15. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

T hey moved in a frenzy, their hands tearing at each other’s clothes with a desperate urgency. The sound of fabric ripping echoed in the room, mingling with their heavy breaths and the beat of a racing heart. The moment Jonathan’s shirt was torn away, Dracula’s mouth found his nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, causing Jonathan to arch his back and moan with pleasure.

Their clothed cocks strained to touch, the friction between them sending sparks of pleasure through their bodies. Dracula rolled Jonathan onto the bed, the old mattress creaking beneath them as he ripped Jonathan’s pants off. Jonathan’s hard length sprang free, a pearl of precum glistening at the tip. Dracula paused momentarily, taking in the sight of Jonathan spread out before him, his body pink and flushed with desire.

His hesitation was palpable, his dark eyes searching Jonathan’s face for any sign of doubt or fear. But all he saw was a hunger that matched his own. Jonathan’s voice was low and urgent, his words punctuated by ragged breaths. “Please, Count. I need you inside me. Now.”

Jonathan’s pleading eyes were too much for him to resist. He lowered his head, his tongue tracing a slow, teasing path along the younger man’s inner thigh. Jonathan shuddered beneath him, his fingers digging into the sheets as he anticipated the Count’s next move.

His tongue flicked out, making contact with Jonathan’s entrance. The solicitor gasped at the unfamiliar sensation, his body tense as the Count slowly worked his tongue inside. His cold hands gripped Jonathan’s hips, holding him steady as he began to explore him with his tongue.

“Oh god,” Jonathan moaned, his head thrown back in ecstasy. “That feels so good!”

“You taste divine.”

The cool tongue darted in and out, his mouth working in a steady rhythm that had Jonathan panting and writhing beneath him.

And then sharp fangs grazed the sensitive folds of skin, drawing a drop of blood that he eagerly lapped up. The taste of Jonathan’s blood only heightened his desire. Jonathan gasped at the intrusion, his body tense as the Count slowly worked him open with his bloodied tongue.

Giving in to the pleas of the solicitor, Dracula positioned himself at his entrance, his eyes locking onto Jonathan’s as he pushed inside. Jonathan cried out, his fingers digging into the muscled shoulders as he adjusted to being filled and stretched beyond what he ever thought his body was capable of. The Count was a large man indeed! He cried out as he felt himself tear. The pain was intense, but it was quickly replaced by pleasure as the cool, pale man above began to move, his thrusts slow and deep.

“Don’t stop,” Jonathan urged, his voice tight with pain and pleasure. “I need you to keep going. Tear me apart!”

As Dracula’s thrusts grew wilder, his fangs lengthened, senses heightened as the scent of Jonathan’s blood filled the room. Jonathan’s pleading voice only served to fuel his hunger. He didn’t care if the young man was his beloved in corporal form or not. He wanted him, wanted to claim him, to lock him in his tower and feel his body wrapped around his cock for an eternity. He took his pleasure in the lookalikes who darkened his door, but it was empty sex, fleeting encounters to sate his urges in between locking himself in his study or hunting. But this man, this…innocence…the way the back of his hand hovered over his red lips to keep himself from crying out…not even his beloved was this reserved. No, these actions were uniquely Jonathan’s. Dracula couldn’t help but chuckle.

He sank his fangs into the young man’s neck; the rush of warmth flooded his mouth, and the taste of Jonathan’s blood was intoxicating. He drank deeply, feeling the life force of the man beneath him pumping into his body, warming him from the inside out. His pale skin flushed with life, this boy’s life, and he was now as pink as any mortal man.

But even as he drank, Dracula was aware of the pleasure coursing through his own body. The feeling of Jonathan’s tight heat around him, the way their bodies fit together as if made for each other, it was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

Jonathan cried out, his body convulsing as he found his release. And with that Dracula felt a sense of triumph.

Just a little taste of his blood, and the boy would not become a vampyre, but a willing slave eager to serve, an addict for the blood and the source of this dark magic. He could…

Dracula pulled out, his cock slick with blood and cum. He looked down at the mess they had made, his eyes wild with hunger, but of a different kind. He felt a possessive urge to make the boy drink. He would never return home to the outside world of progress and light, he would remain a creature of shadow, chained to a monster for all eternity if he wished it so. He ran his fingers through the sticky mess, bringing them to his lips and tasting the mixture of their fluids.

Jonathan looked down at the mess between his legs, his face flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to make such a mess.”

Dracula chuckled darkly, his eyes never leaving the young man’s face. “This century has truly repressed you, my beautiful one,”

He leaned down, his tongue lapping at the cum that spilled between them, tasting the salty sweetness of Jonathan’s release.

Jonathan tried to protest, but the sensation was too much. He felt himself growing hard again, his body betraying him as Dracula’s tongue teased him. He let out a gasp as the Count bit down on the tender flesh between his thighs, the pain mixing with pleasure in a way that made his head spin.

Dracula’s eyes flashed with satisfaction as he saw Jonathan’s reaction. He knew he should feel guilty for using the boy this way, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted more. He needed more.

He began to lick and suck at Jonathan’s cock, his mouth working in a steady rhythm that left the young man panting and writhing beneath him. His fangs grazed the sensitive skin of Jonathan’s inner thigh, sending a jolt of pleasure through his body.

Jonathan’s fingers tangled in Dracula’s hair as he felt himself getting closer to the edge. He couldn’t believe how good and right it felt to be with another man like this. Dracula’s ministrations were relentless, and Jonathan came again with an embarrassing shout, his body trembling with pleasure.

Dracula flipped him onto his stomach as if he were a rag doll. His hands gripped his hips tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled the boy onto his knees. The Count’s movements were rougher and more urgent.

The Count entered him again. He could feel that massive cock thicken and lengthen inside of him, stretching even more than before. Dracula’s movements were no longer slow and deliberate; instead, they were wild and uncontrolled.

Jonathan could hear the Count’s breaths coming in ragged gasps, his body slamming into his with a force that made the bed creak and groan beneath them in a rhythm that turned him on. Dracula’s hips snapped forward, his cock thrusting deep inside as he chased his own release.

The solicitor could hear the sound of bones cracking and reforming, the growls that escaped Dracula’s lips growing deeper and more guttural.

The Count’s movements became more animalistic, his body moving with a feral grace that was both terrifying and arousing. Hairy claws dug into the soft pink skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Teeth snapped and gnashed, and the low growls emanated from his chest as he claimed this strong young body beneath him. His reason fleeing with each rippling wave.

Jonathan was on fire, every nerve ending alight. He could feel himself growing hard again, his cock straining as Dracula’s movements became more frenzied. He felt so nasty, and so good!

‘No, he’s tearing me apart.’ Jonathan thought in his near state of blood loss and delirium. ‘If I don’t get away…’

Jonathan’s mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The pain of Dracula’s rough thrusts mixed with the pleasure of his arousal, created a sensory overload that left him teetering on the edge of consciousness. He could feel the warm trickle of blood running down his arm where something sharp pierced and gripped him the tightest. If this went on…he needed to escape before it was too late!

But at the same time, the heat, the sex, the wild untamed frenzy of it all was driving him wild! He found himself caring less and less; he wanted to give in, sink into the abyss, and never return. If he died here. Would it even matter? Perhaps Lucy would be the only soul crying for him. He found himself begging Dracula to keep going, to never stop. He wanted to feel the Count’s teeth sink into his flesh again!

He could feel himself slipping away to the sounds of their naked, sweating bodies slapping away. He was powerless to resist the Count’s touch, and he found himself surrendering completely.

He could feel his orgasm building, the pressure in his lower belly growing with each thrust. He knew he was so close.

Through the blurred vision, sheets beneath him were stained with a blackened wet substance. ‘Is this, my blood?’

Jonathan tried to focus, gather his strength, and push Dracula away. But the Count’s grip was like iron, and he found himself pinned in place, unable to move. He could feel his heart racing, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness.

Jonathan cried out as teeth sank onto his shoulder, the pain sharp in its intensity. But he didn’t want Dracula to stop, not now, not when he was so close. Dracula’s thrusts became more frantic, more desperate, and Jonathan could feel the rising flutter of an orgasm.

But then, without warning, he stopped, pulling out of Jonathan, his body trembling as he looked down at the blood soaking into the bed.

The once-pristine sheets were now stained crimson. The air was heavy with the metallic scent of blood, mingling with the musk of their lovemaking.

Dracula stood at the foot of the bed, his body trembling with each ragged breath. His eyes, wild and unfocused, darted between Jonathan’s prone form and his own blood-stained hands. His face was a mask of horror and self-loathing, his features twisted in a rictus of shame and despair. He had transformed into a beast mid-coitus without knowing, a beast that would have surely killed the boy as he burst inside! The Count was confused and frightened of his own dark power for the first time since he had first acquired them centuries ago. He had never lost control of himself before. The beast in him, even now, looked at the strong lithe body wrecked and ruined on a bed of midnight black blood and marveled at its dirty work. Oh how it wanted to twist that body beneath him again and again before ripping out pieces of its flesh and devouring every last morsel!

“You... you must leave here at once!” Dracula growled, his voice a raw, guttural sound that seemed to claw its way from the depths of his tortured soul. “These... urges cannot be sated, do you understand? Not with an abomination like me!”

The words hung in the air like a death knell, each syllable dripping with equal parts hunger and disgust. Dracula’s fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms as he fought against the monstrous urge to finish what he had started.

Jonathan lay amidst the ruined bedding, his mind adrift in a sea of conflicting sensations. The ecstasy of their union still thrummed through his veins, intertwining with the sharp, sweet pain of Dracula’s bite. In his delirium, the boundaries between pleasure and agony had blurred, leaving him in a state of transcendent vulnerability.

Jonathan’s face burned with shame and confusion, the emotional whiplash of unleashing his darkest yearnings only to have them cruelly denied, threatening to tear him apart. He couldn’t really feel the pain anymore; he couldn’t really feel anything anymore.

“No, please... don’t make me go,” Jonathan pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling down his pale, bloodied cheeks. “I... I need you. Don’t make me go back out there.”

The raw honesty in Jonathan’s words cut through. The Count’s fierce expression faltered for a moment, revealing a glimpse of the lonely, tormented soul beneath.

“You don’t understand what you’re saying,” Dracula said, his voice softer now but no less pained. “I am a monster. A creature of darkness and blood. I can offer you nothing but death and damnation.”

Jonathan struggled to sit up, his body weak from blood loss. He reached out a trembling hand towards Dracula, his eyes shining with a mixture of fear and undeniable love. Or perhaps reverence for this monster, this thing he just knew was taking a human form. Was he the devil or an angel here to set him free? He wasn’t sure; all he knew was that he could not return to London. What fleeting encounter in some back alley could match what he felt right now? The Count was death himself, all-encompassing and all freeing from the trappings of his tedious existence, and he had made love to it, wanted it inside of him again, wanted it to end him.

“Then let me be damned,” he whispered. “For I would rather spend an eternity in darkness with you than live another day in the light without you.”

Béla’s words spoken to him long ago when he, Dracula, was a hot-headed fool eager to sign away his soul for victory. Béla was the only one he had informed of the deal, his plan to take him with him into what he thought was an eternal paradise.

Dracula stood frozen; he knew now, without a doubt, that Jonathan was his long-lost beloved. And now…when he was here, begging to be taken, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“This is no paradise. You do not know of what you ask!”

Like the wind bellowing through the ragged curtains, the Count was gone. Jonathan swiped the air, his lids heavy as darkness finally took him.