Enthralled 2: Breathing

by Laura Baumbach

  “As a human, you will have no social standing among them. However, as my thrall you are above them. Remember that at all times. You belong to one of the most ancient and powerful warriors in existence. Use this knowledge to protect yourself.”

  “If they know, isn’t that enough?”

  “No. You’ll find many of my kind are devious and cruel, as I was when I met you. As I still am.” A shiver ran through Colin. Rowland used his fingers, still entwined in Colin’s hair, to tap reprovingly on Colin’s head. “Useful attributes at times.” It was an offhand, casual remark that Colin thought bordered on amused. “But now you need to relax. Let the power of the symbols seep into your soul as well as your body.” Colin sighed and buried his head deeper in Rowland’s lap as his lover coaxed him into compliance. “Be still, and I will tell you about the forces of each ancient design that will be guarding you.”

  Rowland talked, low and soothingly, his voice hypnotizing, distracting Colin from the discomfort and embarrassment of this ordeal. The vampire’s deep, rhythmic voice also served to block out the constant droning chants from Armand, which were in a sharp, clipped language Colin neither understood nor even recognized.

  The chants were faint, bordering on being maddeningly irritating after a few hours had Rowland not been distracting Colin with touches to both his body and mind. The vampire’s reassuring, commanding presence was the only thing keeping him calm. Colin didn’t know precisely why, but he was aware this was an event of some magnitude. If Rowland’s brooding demeanor before arriving wasn’t enough, Armand’s reaction to the complex tattoo and the cost was damning evidence. As the chanting continued, the air in the room became still and heavy, infused with energy Colin could feel but couldn’t explain.

  Rowland described each of the symbols and patterns of the tattoo in detail. When Colin stiffened at the description of a swirled butterfly Armand was embedding at the base of his spine, Rowland ran his thick, long fingers through Colin’s hair and told him how it symbolized a rebirth, a transformation such as Colin had experienced since being claimed.

  The feminine design still irritated Colin until Rowland informed him the butterfly was sitting on top of an arrow that symbolized a powerful warrior, just like the tattoo Rowland had on his right hip.

  Rowland’s tattoo was bold and darkly colored, but it reminded Colin more of the head of Rowland’s hefty penis than of any arrow, making it both powerful and phallic. Both could be used as weapons to spear victims. Colin knew Rowland had used his cock to pierce Colin’s heart and body. It was a comfort to know he would have a tattoo that matched his lover’s.

  He tried to relax, forget Armand was present, and let the erotic potential of the situation flow through his mind and over his body. After all, his face was in Rowland’s lap, his cheek resting on a pillow of flesh that had become increasingly larger and harder as the tattooing had progressed.

  Even so, Rowland never grew restless or antsy. Never a hint of breath born of frustration from him. Only Colin seemed adversely affected -- aroused and exposed, handled and touched. He sighed and closed his eyes, concentrating on the feel of Rowland’s fingers in his hair, and the smell of the vampire’s earthy, aroused musk beneath his lips, ignoring the complete stillness of Rowland’s body.

  Colin twitched and squirmed slightly, a sting and pinch stabbing through the curtain of enforced relaxation in his mind. The area of Colin’s ass that Armand was working on was more tender than any inked so far.

  With a calming caress to his back, Rowland explained Armand was joining the free ends of the large tattoo that ran from where each of Colin’s legs met his ass cheeks. He was extending the design across Colin’s tender perineum so it formed an unbroken circle from below his asshole to the small of his back and down again. Despite Rowland’s gently numbing influence in his mind, the discomfort from the constant stab and burn of the needle and dye increased.

  Armand worked with the speed of a demon, accomplishing layer after layer of the intricate design on Colin’s skin faster than any human could, but Colin tired of lying in one position for so long. He began to flinch with every needle piercing. He gasped and jumped just enough that Armand’s chanting, though never faltering, grew slightly louder in warning.

  The fingers in his hair gripped his skull, and Colin responded to the unspoken command, stilling his movements, allowing himself to be pinned back down on Rowland’s lap. Colin could feel Rowland’s unusual tension, and a flash of anger from him. He tried to look up at Rowland’s expression without moving his head, but failed to see anything more than the weave of the vampire’s gray silk shirt, smooth and still, unruffled by even the tiniest of breaths. Still as the dead.

  Within seconds, Colin’s mind became unfocused, his thoughts indistinct. His limbs went slack, the rigid tension in his thighs and back gone for the first time since he saw the spellbinder’s intimidating, medieval-looking work table. Along with the clarity of thought went the burning pain. A warm tingle not unlike arousal replaced the fiery sting of the rapid, piercing needle.

  Now the feel of Rowland’s cock under his cheek was exotic, exciting. Colin forgot about Armand. He imagined the intimate touch of cool fingers on his ass and opening to be Rowland’s, not a stranger’s. Colin rubbed his jaw along Rowland’s thick length, feeling it grow and stiffen, and delighting in the response he caused.

  He turned his face into the fabric and inhaled. The distinctive scent of Rowland’s body, bold and earthy, filled his nostrils, exciting him. A flood of warmth and anticipation spiked through him. His stomach fluttered. A tingle shot down his spine, starting at Rowland’s fingers in his hair, and ending at his spasming hole, the ring of muscle trying vainly to capture the blunt touch near it and draw the fingers in.

  Colin groaned and mouthed Rowland’s cock through the trousers. His breath, captured in the fine threads, was hot and eager while his hands moved to wantonly knead the flesh of the vampire’s thigh. Regardless of who was doing the handling, the sudden pressure of fingers rearranging his balls and expanding cock inflamed him. It was difficult not to hump the table to find more stimulation for his swollen cock.

  The sound of a zipper purred in his ear, and Colin eagerly turned into the sound, his mouth pressing to the satin-over-steel cock now jutting up from Rowland’s lap. Rowland’s hand encouraged him to raise his head, and the uncircumcised tip of the vampire’s stout cock kissed Colin’s lips. Mindless of their audience, Colin sucked the hooded shaft in and began teasing the fold of sensitive flesh, running his tongue under it, using his lips to pull the foreskin up and down, as if it was a hand around the glorious rod of flesh it encased. A small hiss from above him rewarded his efforts.

  In a corner of his mind, the unbroken flow of chants sounded strained and less distant than before. The image of Armand’s hands on his cleft and opening, the tattoo artist’s dark face inches from Colin’s swollen cock and balls, brought heat to Colin’s cheeks. The cool puffs of air carrying the ancient chants as they breathed spells of death and devastation into the symbols now embedded into his flesh made gooseflesh rise on the back of his neck and arms, and unexpectedly, panic burst to life in his chest.

  Colin let Rowland’s cock slip from his lips along with a whimper, his lungs immobilized with fear. Air trapped, his conscious mind grew dim as a dark heaviness invaded his entire being. Blood pounded through his temples, his vision blurred, and his power of speech left him.

  “Breathe, pretty. Breathe. Do not fight it. Breathe for me.”

  Colin found it odd to think the vampire understood his need when Rowland never drew a single idle breath. Not in thousands of years. Not a sigh in frustration, not a gasp of pleasure or huff of disdain. Not even to smell a flower. Rowland had no use for air, no use for breathing. No use for human expression.

  Colin wanted those things from a lover. He thought of sighs and groans as clues about feelings and thoughts. Their absence left him floundering emotionally at times. He’d led an isolated life until falling into Rowland’
s arms, but he’d had plenty of opportunity to learn how to read doctors, nurses, sitters, and even his parents by their body language. A whole paragraph could be said with one deep sigh.

  In all fairness to Rowland, Colin assumed the ancient vampire had forgotten that breathing could be more than just sustenance to human life. Colin himself hadn’t understood that until it was missing.

  One subtle, but constant reminder of what his lover was. Or wasn’t.

  Chapter Three

  Both of Rowland’s hands now cupped Colin’s face, the vampire’s callused thumbs rubbing soothing circles over his temples while the coolness of the large palms leeched the heat from his cheeks. “This part is almost complete, my pleasure. You’ll be rewarded for your patience very soon.”

  The heaviness eased, allowing Colin to pull in several deep breaths. He nodded silently, enjoying the vampire’s touch and the sound of his voice.

  Another wave of sensual pleasure invaded Colin’s mind, and the image of Armand faded, pushed away by arousal. Colin was still embarrassed, but he couldn’t find the energy to let it be important. Content, he drew in another deep breath, and relaxed. All his focus shifted to the cock near his mouth, and the teasing, enticing, but now suddenly disembodied pressure around his anxious hole.

  Rising up to rest his upper torso on his bent elbows and forearms, Colin reclaimed Rowland’s weeping cock. He used his lips to pinch the foreskin closed over the tip, sucking the pearl-white droplet from the slit at the same time. Holding the foreskin over the tip, he wiggled his wet tongue under the loose fold of flesh, teasing the bulbous head with its rough, flattened surface. He swirled under the hood, then used his lips to retract the skin again, his head bobbing slowly, suction and spit alternating over the newly revealed dome.

  Once the crown of Rowland’s cock touched the back of his throat, Colin’s lingering inhibitions dissolved. His own cock felt swollen to the point of splitting its skin, his balls already tightly drawn up against his cock’s root, inches from the teasing press and probe he could only blindly feel.

  Mimicking the touches on his ass and delicate opening, Colin pressed his tongue along the satiny skin of Rowland’s cock, tracing veins and ridges, mapping out familiar paths to the vampire’s more sensitive spots. Once there, Colin probed and licked, suckled and tapped, devouring the shaft in a slow dance of need and want, savoring the slight bucking of Rowland’s hips, and the increasingly firm grip in his hair. Rowland might not sigh or gasp his pleasure, but his lover gave other clues to his desires. How had Colin forgotten that?

  Lost in the fog of sensations at both his body’s openings, Colin barely registered the change when the touches to his ass stopped and the chanting grew louder. It wasn’t until Rowland gently forced Colin to release the cock in his mouth that he finally took notice of the shift in the mood of the room.

  The calming effects of Rowland’s influence in his mind faded slightly, allowing him to experience more of what was actually happening to him. His ass and his perineum were swollen, throbbing, and hot with the sting of what felt like a million ant bites.

  The loss of physical contact with Rowland sent a jolt of fear through Colin, but the feeling vanished when he felt the familiar probe of his lover’s large, blunt cock at his opening. A reassuring wave of coolness settled over his heated flesh as Rowland ran his hands up Colin’s bare back.

  Rowland pushed past the fluttering ring of muscle with such ease and power that Colin gasped and clenched his ass tightly around the welcome but massive invasion. More soothing hand strokes on his skin and murmured endearments in his mind relaxed him enough that he found himself bearing down on the thrusts and tightening up during the withdrawing strokes as Rowland buried his cock deep inside Colin’s channel again and again.

  His butt cheeks felt like flaming globes, heavy and hot. The delicate skin under his asshole screamed, ravaged and raw from the tattoo iron. Every rub of Rowland’s palm or brush of his trousers and groin hair over the area notched up the burn. Each stroke sent jolts of ecstasy up his spine until Colin couldn’t tell the pain from the pleasure. His cock ached, pinned between his own body and the soft leather of the table, sliding through the smears of his own pre-cum that marred the slick surface, eager for more.

  “God, Rowland! For God’s sake, please, I can’t wait.” Colin’s voice came out a strained whisper, afraid of somehow disrupting the incessant chanting. Armand stood at his side now, close but no longer touching him. Glancing up over his shoulder, Colin could see the man’s black eyes were closed, but his mouth still moved in an endless murmur of foreign words.

  Rowland abruptly changed the angle of his thrust. Colin jerked and writhed as his prostate hummed to life, a blast of fire sizzling through his heavy groin and deep into his balls. Jolt after jolt racked his body -- pleasure, pain, ecstasy, and fear all rolled into one tidal wave of ultimate bliss that made him convulse and cry out wordlessly, the sound frozen in the back of his throat, his own ability to breathe forsaking him. His scrotum tightened and his climax rippled up and out from the pit of his belly.

  Passion flowed like lava through his veins, hot, blistering, all consuming, leaving him nothing but a glorious rapture, leaden limbs, and innate knowledge that this was an absolute bliss not to be found with any other lover.

  His cock pulsed, emptying onto the table. The air filled with the scent of him. His heart skipped a beat when he felt Rowland slide one hand under him to run a palm through the silky come, and then leave. He knew from experience that he would taste himself in Rowland’s next kiss.

  Bearing down, Colin clenched his ass, trying to give Rowland a tight ride, knowing the vampire liked to come deep inside him and stay buried until Colin’s body absorbed every last drop of his spent seed, a vampire’s essence. A second wash of climax shuddered through his gut and left Colin breathless and dazed.

  Colin closed his eyes and imagined what it looked like as inch after inch of the thick, slick cock left his opening. The flared head reached the ring of muscle at his entrance and he steadied himself for a hard thrust, expecting Rowland to plunge back in full force, heading toward climax.

  His eyes flashed open and a gasp escaped his parched lips as the head popped out, his asshole winking in unexpected spasms at the sudden emptiness.

  “What’s -- what’s wrong? Rowland?” Colin struggled to find the strength to turn over and look at his lover, but a strong hand in the middle of his back stopped the effort.

  “Shhh. Lie still. All is as it should be.”

  A slick, fat shaft slid up the cleft of his ass cheeks. Colin sighed and relaxed back onto the table as a familiar whisper in his brain lulled him into instant obedience. Within seconds, he felt cool strands of come on ass where it pooled in the small of his back and dripped across his sore, burning, newly tattooed cheeks.

  “My cum will heal your flesh quickly and seal the spellbinder’s words in the markings.” Rowland’s voice was ragged, drenched in lust, hoarse with pleasure from his climax. The sound of raw need ignited a new flame in Colin’s gut.

  The vampire’s strong, beefy hands began to knead and massage Colin’s ass. He could feel the fluids being worked into every line and piercing of the circular tattoo. “My scent will be locked into the ink along with the spells. There will be no question who you belong to.”

  Rowland’s hands were gentle. The difference in temperature between the come and the abused flesh was dramatic, almost like having an ice pack dropped on his inflamed buttocks.

  Colin gasped at the first touch, but the pain and soreness faded with each passing moment until the tattooed flesh was as malleable as the rest of his body.

  Armand’s chanting abruptly rose to a shout then, just as suddenly, ended. The spellbinder fell to his knees and stayed there, head bowed and hands at his sides, flexing and clenching at air. Both Colin and Rowland ignored him. The vampire continued his sensual massage.

  Colin lost himself in the erotic bliss of the moment. “What’s it look like?”

/>   “This is a layered rope of knotted vines entwined with thorns. It runs across here…” Rowland lightly trailed his fingers over Colin’s sensitive perineum from one side to the other. “… to here.”

  Colin squirmed, panting with fresh arousal. A blunt probing at his opening had him sighing in relief as Rowland plunged two slippery fingers into his ass. Colin pushed back, taking in more of the thick digits, clenching his cheeks and thrusting his hips in a wanton dance to entice Rowland to give him more.

  A sudden swipe of fingertips over his prostate and Colin howled, his body jerking as sizzling ecstasy rippled up from his cock and traveled along his nerves until even his fingertips and toes tingled. When the jolt of pleasure receded, he realized the fingers had been traded for Rowland’s still stiff cock. He was impaled on the hard shaft so deeply he could feel the slap of the vampire’s thighs against his newly decorated ass with the first stroke.

  The thrusts were slow and deep, gentle, teasing, nothing like what Colin wanted. He wanted to be taken and claimed.

  Before he could complain, Armand’s rough, dry, disembodied voice broke in. “We will need to finish soon for the spells to be at their height of power during the binding, Master. Midnight approaches.”

  “Then let us proceed, Armand.” Back in control, Rowland’s voice held a dangerous edge Colin recognized as the same tone he had used the first night Colin met him, and that meant Rowland had survival as his primary concern.

  Colin felt a wave of fear wash through him. There was something going on that Rowland hadn’t seen fit to tell him. He had learned in the months they had been together that Rowland was not the sharing type. Tonight was the first he had heard of the hunters on their trail. While Colin was usually content to allow the vampire to deal with the details of their day-to-day lives together in the unfamiliar, shadowy world of the night, there were times when Colin wished the vampire would prepare him more. Even this tattoo shop visit had been a surprise.