by Jane Bled
Raiden propped his back against the end of the bed, still snickering. After a few moments, he had managed to regain his sense of self-control. He certainly didn’t need to reveal any more weakness to his creation than he already had.
“Well, I have to admit…it is nice not having to take a shit anymore.”
Gabriel’s declaration decimated his plan to stay stoic. He gasped helplessly with mirth.
“You’re crazy!”
Joining his laughter, the actor propped his head up and looked down at the singer with knowing eyes. “What? It’s true. I’m sure you don’t miss the bowel movements.”
“That’s manky!” he protested, still spasming with glee.
“I used to spend hours on the can. I‘m sure I lost a large section of my life to it.”
“Fuck!” The older vampire laughed even harder. He was pleasantly surprised to see this crude side of Gabriel, this more light-hearted version of the person whose life he had ruined. Still smiling, his protégé reluctantly slid off the bed to sit beside him. “So what other surprises are in store for me? Don’t tell me I can’t have an orgasm anymore or something horrendous like that.”
Raiden gave him the fish-eye. “Uh, Gabriel…you jizzed in your pants the first time you fed, if you don’t recall. And also, when I turned you.”
The younger vampire’s face was scarlet with embarrassment. Raiden leered at him, basking in his obvious discomfort.
“I—but—I just—wasn’t sure if it was just because I had changed, or…and the other time, maybe there was like, residual sperm stuck in my body—”
“Don’t worry. From what I’ve seen, and trust me, I’ve seen plenty—you can still get it up, and you can still get your rocks off.”
Gabriel sighed with apparent relief. Though a vampire now, a creature ultimately driven by bloodlust rather than the human urge to procreate, he apparently still valued his cock just as much. Well, at least I’m not the only one.
Raiden’s eyes lit up. “Oh, and in case you didn‘t notice, a human’s orgasm ain’t shite compared to a vampire‘s. And of course, it’s easier to get a stiffy now than when you were human.”
“You sound like you know what you’re talking about.”
“Are you taking the piss out of me? I’ve been a vampire for over five years, Gabriel. Plus, I’m not blind. I saw how the kill affected you.”
His creation thoughtfully tilted his head to the side. “I seem to recall you were affected as well.”
Raiden couldn’t quite identify the look in his eyes. He only knew that it forced him to shiver. Shake it off, lad. You‘re better than that! Clearing his throat, he dug a cigarette pack out of his pocket. “It happens to the best of us. It’s just one of those things you have to learn to get used to. Maybe in time, you can even stop yourself from getting hard when you feed.”
“Why?”
The singer gave an amicable roll of his eyes and retrieved a cigarette. He adjusted his position on the floor to a more comfortable one. “I dunno! Maybe you don’t like the way it makes you feel. Maybe it makes you feel guiltier, because you enjoy it.”
Gabriel was unusually silent. Raiden wondered if he had hit a nerve.
“Did you ever…?” The younger vampire didn’t seem to know how to end the question. Raiden raised his eyebrows. “What?”
“Did you ever, uh…”
“Spit it out, then,” Raiden ordered out of the side of his mouth. He lit the cigarette and took a deep drag.
“You know,” Gabriel continued, refusing to look his way. “You know, uh, have sex while you were feeding.”
He nearly inhaled the entire cigarette. The actor’s question forced a few extra beats of his pulse to eek out, and he fought to catch his breath. An unidentified, warm emotion clutched briefly at his metaphorical heart.
“Why, Brie, you dirty boy! It doesn‘t take long for your little imagination to run away with itself, does it?”
“What did you just call me?” Gabriel asked. His mouth dropped open.
“Nothing.”
Raiden quickly averted his gaze to the ceiling. For the life of him, he had no fucking clue why he had called Gabriel that. Cutesy nicknames had never been his thing, with the exception of the one he had bestowed upon Taro. You’re losin' it, mate. His student seemed to share his opinion.
“Brie?” he repeated, his syllables exaggerated. “As in the cheese? Was that the name you called me?”
Snorting, Gabriel shoved his shoulder, laughing obnoxiously until Raiden shoved the cigarette in his mouth to shut him up. He fell silent, distracted by the pleasurable rush of smoke entering and exiting his lungs. The singer reached for another smoke from the pack, but Gabriel shocked him yet again by firmly placing the cigarette he had been smoking back into Raiden’s mouth. He relented, oddly charmed by the small gesture.
“Alright, we can share it. But I’m getting my own next time,” he declared, a feeling slightly resembling satisfaction soaring through him. Maybe…this won’t be so bad.
They had spent the rest of the night smoking like chimneys, and goofing off between rounds of reading. Before Raiden could realize it, the sun had appeared.
Banishing the memory, the singer forced himself to focus on the current conversation. Taro regarded him with a sly expression. He placed both hands on his shoulders, encouraging him to look up.
“Okay, Raiden. I just have one question for you. If you truly don‘t want to get into Gabriel‘s pants, then WHY do you want to do this movie with him? I thought you never had any real interest in the whole acting thing.”
“Well, I was always curious. Brie—I mean, Gabriel—just helped me realize that I’m ready to try.”
Again, his badly behaved tongue had called Gabriel by that disgustingly cute nickname. And I still don’t know where the fuck it came from. Only this time, Taro had caught him doing it instead of Gabriel. Raiden groaned. Predictably, the lead guitarist smirked.
“Oh, and how did Brie do that? With his mouth or his ass? Or maybe both?” he taunted, dropping his hands from Raiden’s shoulders. The vampire could tell he disapproved of the notion.
“Stop being such a cock. It was nothing like that.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot about the romantic part where he sweeps you off your feet and carries you off into the sunset,” Taro scoffed. Raiden tried not to visualize ripping out his friend’s flapping tongue and slapping him silly with it.
“You’re a prick, you know that?”
“I’m just trying to understand why this guy has gotten you all hot and bothered. The last thing I heard, you couldn’t stand him. Now you even have a pet name for him!”
“Will you come off it? It’s not like that, Taro. I can’t explain it, okay? We just have this…bond, that’s all. It has nothing to do with sex,” Raiden stated, walking away from Taro to calm himself. Nope, it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I get so fucking hard whenever he‘s around. Bloody hell—even when he’s not.
“Have you lost your mind? You have bond with Gabriel? Unless you’re talking about his ass bonded to your cock, I have no idea who you are anymore, Raiden.”
“I don’t expect you to understand. But can you please just trust me? I’m not a total idiot, T. I think I’ve proved that to you by now.”
“You’re really thinking about going through with this, aren’t you?”
Genuine wonder broke across Taro’s face like cracks of glass. Raiden squared his shoulders.
“I’ve already decided to do it. I’m not here asking for your permission, but it would be nice to know that you support me. Is it so wrong to want to try something new? If I fail, it’ll be nobody’s fault but my own.”
The lead guitarist gave him one last, long, lingering look before he raised his shoulders, accepting defeat.
“Okay. But promise me this—the first sign you catch that this movie is going down the crapper, you get out. And you COME BACK TO THE BAND afterwards. Don’t you dare leave Scent for the big screen.”
Raiden‘s smile was so radiant, and full of relief, that his best friend couldn‘t help but to return it. HA! I always win. “As if I would. It’s just for fun, T. Scent means more to me than that.”
“You’re going to make a fool out of yourself, you know that?” Taro sighed. He walked to the genkan and slipped on his shoes in preparation to leave Raiden’s house.
The singer followed him. “Maybe. At least you and the boys will get a good laugh if I look stupid.”
“Don’t you mean when you look stupid?”
“That hurts, T.”
“Aw, come off it, you big baby!”
“This is entirely your fault anyway. If you hadn’t forced me to have dinner with Gabriel, we would’ve never needed to discuss this.”
“Oh, Rai. So like you, always placing the blame on someone else. But you know, I’m not fooled. You brought this on yourself. You always do.” The lead guitarist turned briskly on his heel to exit Raiden’s house.
An unpleasant, wormy sensation slithered inside the vampire’s stomach. For a moment, the truth in Taro’s words actually stung. It had been a long while since his best friend had penetrated his self-esteem. With a quiet groan, he shut and locked the door. Today had been one of the longest days of his life, and he still needed to prepare for the feed tonight. After all, Gabriel would arrive shortly.
Something was changing inside of him, eating away at its chrysalis, threatening to take flight. He leaned heavily against the door, throwing his head back, eyes sliding shut. In just an hour, he and Gabriel would be on their way to catch another meal. In just a little longer than that, they would be draining some unlucky person of all their veins had to offer. In the midst of these events, Raiden knew he would think about how it might feel to fuck him.
A vicious sort of arousal spurted through him, enflaming him, engorging him in ways he never thought possible. The urge had never felt this strong, even when he had taken his first victim, even when he had experienced his first vampiric lay. Frantically, he fumbled with the zipper of his pants, hissing a bit as it scraped against his straining erection. Raking a few nails down his torso, Raiden tilted his pelvis, preparing to thrust. The first touch to his swollen sex brought bright lights behind his eyes. Panting, he furiously extracted his pounding cock and pulled, gasping as his length swelled to the point of obscenity. His legs buckled, and he fell to his knees, still jerking, still gripping and pumping, not stopping even after his orgasm wrenched all sound from his throat and he lay on the floor, whimpering like a baby, not even close to being spent. Brie.
Thus, the fire was stoked.
Chapter 11
The Lie
I’m jonesin’ for a fix, strung out on a lie.
“Confess,” you say.
“You like feeling this dirty.”
The television studio was empty, but Gabriel’s hyper-sensitive hearing alerted him to the fact that some careless idiot had forgotten to put the television out of its misery. The gruff, gravelly voice of a hoary crone yammered in incessant Japanese. He couldn’t understand most of her jabbering, but her gestures and tone seemed to boast about her beautifully redone kitchen floor. Her rough, uneven pitch drilled into his ears, triggering violent, gory thoughts. He could easily imagine shredding her arteries with his fangs, then dropping her open-veined corpse into a puddle of blood that would surely stain the pristine tiles of her precious floor. That would silence the old bitch. Gabriel quickly pressed the “mute” button, shuddering audibly at the savage imagery produced by the primal part of his brain.
Contrary to the conjured images of carnage, quenching his thirst did not presently occupy the top spot of his desires. Tonight, he needed something stronger than mere blood to satisfy his lust. Something that was harder and longer-lasting, something that involved lubrication, penetration, and, above all, ejaculation. He seriously doubted that these constant fleshy cravings were merely dwindling mortal appetites, for according to Raiden, his sex drive would only increase as he traveled further down the path of vampirism.
Though Gabriel’s body had partially adjusted to the radical physical changes, he still couldn’t escape the mental shackles of humanity. He wondered how long it would last, this inconclusive sense of existence, this wraithlike state of being. The answer simply wouldn’t arrive fast enough.
To make matters more frustrating, his supposed mentor stubbornly refused to divulge his own early experiences. A night or two after they had read the script, Raiden promised to share yet more valuable information about their blood-sucking breed, consequently inspiring the actor to further probe him for details.
“So, Raiden…you haven’t told me much about vampirism.”
The singer slithered toward the bedroom door, swaying his hips with the practiced nuances of a professional seducer. Gabriel didn’t know whether to protest or moan when he firmly closed the door and leaned against it with effortless ease and natural grace. Nervous, he pretended to brush something off the bed. I will not allow his undignified posturing to distract me.
“So I guess you’re wondering what the deal with the sun is,” Raiden mused, distractedly rubbing his bottom lip with his tongue. The younger vampire forced his eyes away from the pink, pert muscle and unconsciously licked his own lips, close to longing.
“Well, I haven’t burned into a fiery pile of ashes yet, but yes, it would be nice to know.”
Truthfully, Gabriel hadn’t given much thought to vampire myths since he had written Luna Sunset. He had been too distracted by the various alterations in his existence to worry about the sun, which he usually avoided anyway.
“As far as I’ve seen, vampires are allergic to sunlight, but it doesn’t kill us. However, it does irritate our skin, weaken our senses, and temporarily prohibit our super-human abilities.”
Gabriel adorned a distasteful expression. “You sound like a poorly-written comic book character.”
“Beggars can‘t be choosers,” Raiden retorted, shrugging his shoulders and leaning more heavily against the door, affecting an attitude of indifference. Do all vampires pose this much, or just the pompous, beautiful ones? As usual, the singer had gotten under his skin. “I want to know about the others.”
“What others?”
“The other vampires, genius.”
Years piled upon years in his creator’s eyes. For a split second, Gabriel glimpsed a softer side of him: a hidden weakness, a possible Achilles' heel. So, he really was human once. Could have fooled me.
“I only know of one,” Raiden muttered at last. He closed his eyes as if in pain. Gabriel rushed to the door, spouting an eager flow of questions.
“Well, where is he or she? How did you meet? Who turned you? Were you—?”
“He’s gone,” Raiden said, and would not elaborate, no matter how tirelessly Gabriel prodded him for answers. At length, the older vampire had gotten so fed up with his questions that he threatened to exclude him from the night’s kill. Not wishing to starve, Gabriel dropped the subject faster than a bloodless corpse; regrettably, the topic had remained off-limits for the rest of the evening.
The actor sighed at the memory. He fiddled with one of the myriad CD players placed within the studio sound booth. After a few minutes of song-skipping, he elected to hear a decidedly sexual ballad. It had been a while since he had gotten off, due to his freshly-altered lifestyle and provisional housing arrangements. Too many nights had resulted in self-denial stemmed in guilty remembrances; Gabriel had the feeling his libido would only worsen after tonight‘s kill. Unless…
Furtively, he glanced from side to side, as if he expected to find an observer—though he knew for a fact that he was alone. All the other lights were dark, and the room he currently occupied had naught but the television screen to illuminate it. Ever-so-gingerly, he dared to peek inside the front cover of the magazine he was currently holding. This is by far the dumbest idea I’ve ever had since donning those leopard-skin pants.
As Gabriel glimpsed at the picture splashed acros
s the pages, however, he knew he couldn’t abstain. There—in all his striking, unpainted glory—was Raiden, staring at the camera. Staring at ME. Cigarette coquettishly dangling from his lips, he mocked anyone who dared make eye contact. Gabriel wished he could touch him, if only to erase the haughty insouciance off his face by shoveling a giant helping of quivering cock down his throat. Miserably, he smoothed down the pages and began to unbuckle his belt, fondling his thickness even before he could completely release it from the confines of his Chinos. I despise you.
“I brought leftovers!” a familiar voice called in French.
Choking, Gabriel flipped the magazine aside, speedily redoing his pants while flicking off the stereo. The lights flipped. From the look on his best friend’s face, the damage had already been done. Over and over, he cursed himself for having failed to discern Ken's approach over the sound of the sex music. Apparently, he had been too absorbed in the act of pre-masturbation to notice.
“Don’t you knock?” He blurted out. His cheeks had turned an unfortunate shade of scarlet.
“Usually, unless someone leaves the door wide open,” Ken snorted. He wasn’t the least bit embarrassed about having caught the actor with his pants down.
“It was cracked,” Gabriel defended, not caring. In truth, he was more concerned about whether Ken had happened to observe whose picture he had used to enhance his aborted session of self-love. They had been best friends for fifteen years; Ken was his co-star in Mesmerized, so there wasn’t a lot that the other actor hadn’t already seen.
“I’m not even going to touch that one. Looky what I brought.”
From an oversized brown bag, the curly-haired Quebecois proudly produced a quart of steaming hot, high-quality pork-fried rice. His brown ringlets bobbed up and down as he opened the top with enthusiasm.
“C’mon, before it gets cold.”
Gabriel sniffed the rice suspiciously. Inwardly, his nausea was roiling, threatening to catapult an endless supply of regurgitated bile and remnants of undigested blood into Ken’s unsuspecting face.
