“Definitely not,” Christiano said, and leaned forward to lick the head. He moaned as the slick, salty precum slid across his tongue and down his throat. He wrapped his lips around the head of Bernhardt’s cock and tried to tell himself to play it cool and to take it a little at a time, but was completely unsuccessful. He took a deep breath, and in one fell swallow, Bernhardt’s massive cock was deep in his throat.
“Dear God,” Bernhardt moaned as he slid all the way inside Christiano’s hot throat, “how in the world did you do that?”
Christiano sucked on the giant cock for a few seconds, then let it slip out of his mouth. “I’m talented that way.”
“Yes, you are, indeed.”
Christiano licked at the salty head again and then swallowed the cock back into his mouth, past his tonsils and deep into his throat. His throat muscles gripped the hot shaft and massaged it as his lips tightened and slid up and down the last couple of inches of Bernhardt’s cock outside his mouth.
Being careful not to withdraw his cock from Christiano’s mouth, Bernhardt repositioned himself so that his face was in front of Christiano’s cock while his own dick plunged deeper into Christiano’s mouth. He reached out tentatively with his tongue and licked on Christiano’s cock for a moment, and then took a deep breath and deep-throated the entire length.
As much as Christiano would have loved for this to continue forever, it didn’t take long before both men had reached the point of no return. He felt Bernhardt breathing heavier and sliding his cock deeper and deeper into Christiano’s throat. When it was completely buried, Bernhardt stopped thrusting and simply let his cock lie in the wet warmth of his throat. Seconds later it spewed shot after shot of warm cum into Christiano’s throat. Christiano swallowed each shot, relishing the sweet warmth as it settled into his belly. Then he took a deep breath and tightened up his entire body as he released his own load into the warm mouth and throat of his new lover.
When they were both finished, they lay on top of each other, catching their breath. Christiano was just about to drift to sleep when he felt Bernhardt slip his cock out of his mouth and roll him over onto his stomach.
“What…?”
“You didn’t think we were done, did you?” Bernhardt asked. “We are just getting started.”
“But I thought…,” he gasped as he felt Bernardt’s huge cock slide effortlessly inside his ass. He immediately tightened up and grabbed the sheets with his hands. “Bernhardt…”
“Shhh…,” Bernhardt whispered as he licked the outside of his ear and kissed it softly. “Just relax. You’re going to like this, I promise.”
“I already like this,” Christiano whispered back, and tightened his ass muscles even more as he arched up to meet Bernhardt’s thrusts.
The deeper Bernhardt stabbed himself inside him, the more Christiano moaned and begged for more. The sweat poured off both men as they brought each other closer and closer to ecstasy. Christiano swore he could feel Bernhardt’s cock grow thicker and thicker as he pounded inside him. And Bernhardt knew he was not imagining the sensation of Christiano’s ass muscles wrapping themselves around his big cock and squeezing it as if milking a cow. Both men bucked against each other with uncontrolled passion and soon reached the point again where there was no turning back.
“Not inside me,” Christiano moaned as he struggled to roll over onto his back.
“What?”
“I want to feel you all over my face.”
“Are you sure?” Bernhardt gasped as he already slipped his cock out from the tight confines of Christiano’s ass.
“Yes! There will be plenty of time to feel your hot seed inside me. But right now I want to feel it bathe my face.”
“Okay, here I…” And with that, Bernhardt sprayed his load all across Christiano’s stomach and chest and face. It seemed to go on forever, and when he was finished, he looked down and saw that Christiano was covered with his load.
A second later Christiano moaned loudly, and Bernhardt felt a massive load of thick, hot semen shoot all over his back. He collapsed on top of Christiano and hugged him until they both caught their breath. Then he leaned up and kissed his lover long and deep. They fell asleep in each other’s arms.
And that is how they stayed, for eighty years. Christiano and Bernhardt were madly in love and never once regretted their decision to spend eternity together. They were partners in every aspect of their life, and defied anyone to challenge that love. No one ever did. Vampires don’t really distinguish between gay and straight, like humans tend to do. Some were a little skeptical at first, not knowing what to think of the two strong and handsome men who were so devoted to each other. But it didn’t take long for their love and devotion to become legendary, and soon they were welcomed and even celebrated in most vampire communities.
Bernhardt was truly the love of Christiano’s life, and their relationship was the one thing he was proudest of. For eighty years they loved and supported each other, and as far as they were concerned, it would last forever.
But that was not to be.
They’d stayed in Germany for another ten years and then decided to move on. They visited London, Prague, Moscow, Rome, and even stayed in Barcelona, Christiano’s hometown, for a few years. But they eventually ended up in Paris, and that was where they felt most at home. They lived there happily for over fifteen years. And then the dream came to an abrupt end.
It was a cool evening in April, 1970. It had been storming outside all afternoon, but by the time the two lovers woke just an hour after sunset, the storm had weakened considerably. They could still hear the tinkling of raindrops on the large glass windows that looked out onto the streets, and the low rumbling of thunder as it crawled across the dark sky. Bernhardt had always loved a good storm, but Christiano had never particularly cared for them. He also wasn’t feeling well, and decided to spend the evening at home. Bernhardt had woken extremely hungry and needed to feed, and so they agreed he would venture out into the storm alone. It wasn’t something they did very often at all; they usually hunted and fed together. But every once in a while one or the other of them wouldn’t feel up to it, and the other would feed alone. This was such a night.
Bernhardt had been gone for nearly three hours, and Christiano was beginning to wonder where his lover was. In the few times they fed alone, they always made short business of it and returned to be together. He was reading a book by the fireplace when he heard a commotion outside in the streets below. At first he thought little of it, thinking the bars had just let out, and that they were probably just some rowdy youngsters heading home after a night of drinking. But then the noise grew more heated and angry, and he realized there was a mob moving slowly down the street.
He got up and walked to the window. The thunder had returned about an hour earlier, and the raindrops tickled the windows once again. Christiano’s heart dropped in his chest, and a lump in his throat prevented him from swallowing. He parted the heavy drapes from the window. Outside there were maybe a hundred people, yelling and screaming and waving long wooden poles. Some of them carried lighted torches that struggled to stay lit in the light rain but somehow did. They all crowded around something in the center of the crowd and were all trying to get closer to it.
Christiano’s heart stopped beating for a moment, and he fell to the floor as his heart constricted in pain. “Bernhardt,” he cried out, and crawled on his knees over to the door of the apartment. He took a couple of deep breaths and forced himself onto his feet. Then he walked out into the hallway and into the street below.
By now the crowd had moved several blocks down the street, and Christiano struggled to catch up with them. The cold rain pelted down on the crowd, but they didn’t seem to notice. By the time he reached them, they were at the plaza, almost half a mile from their apartment. The crowd was now chanting and moving to form a circle around the center of the plaza. Christiano pushed his way through the crowd, fighting back tears and the pangs of pain from his heart.
&
nbsp; When he reached the front of the crowd, he fell to the ground. There, on top of a long wooden pole, was Bernhardt, pinned to the pole with a long wooden stake hammered through his heart. His eyes were open, staring blankly ahead. They looked frightened. His mouth gaped open, and blood trickled down the corners of it. His white shirt was stained bright red.
Christiano wailed out loudly and beat his hands against the ground. Other members of the crowd must have thought it was a ritual, because several of them threw themselves to the ground as well and began beating it as they chanted and yelled undecipherable phrases in French, Italian, and English. The more Christiano cried and hit the ground, the louder the swell of chants grew, and the more the crowd around him danced and laughed and sang.
Christiano stood up weakly and stumbled backward through the crowd. The tears mixed with the rain and streamed down his face and kept him from seeing anything too clearly. He finally reached the edge of the crowd and ran to a nearby alley, where he vomited. When he caught his breath, he looked over at the crowd and spat at them.
It took only a moment for the rage inside him to take over. His eyes grew red and glowed in the dark of the night. He felt his canine teeth grow and distend at an alarming speed, and the blood flowed through his veins with an intensity that he’d never felt. Before he could realize what was happening, his feet were off the ground and he was flying through the air. He’d known this was possible, and Bernhardt had even spoken of experiencing it a few times. But it had never happened to him before, and he was unable to control it.
He floated about fifteen feet above the ground for a few moments and then rose a few feet higher and began flying toward the crowd. With each passing second, he felt himself gaining more control over the flying, and it didn’t take long before he’d mastered his balance and his mastery of this newfound skill. The closer he came to the mob, the angrier he grew, and the faster he flew. When he was over the center of the crowd, he whooshed down and grabbed the first person he saw. It was a young woman, and he grabbed her by the hair, pulled her face to one side, and sank his fangs deep into her neck. She tried to scream, but barely a moan escaped her throat as he bit into her neck and ripped it open. He didn’t even bother drinking her blood but instead threw her to the ground and left her alone to bleed to death on the street.
He was back up in the air in seconds and continued through the crowd. The mob was so frenzied and caught up in their partying that they didn’t realize at first what was happening. It took a couple of minutes and at least three dead mob members for the crowd to realize they were being massacred, and when they did, they began to scream and run. Christiano was able to reach several other people and rip into their necks before the majority of the crowd dispersed screaming into the streets.
When they were all gone, he lowered himself to the ground and looked around him. He counted fifteen people on the ground, covered in blood. Not nearly enough. He stormed through the plaza, kicking the dead as he passed them on his way to Bernhardt. When he was just a few feet away from his lover, he kicked one of the people on the ground and was startled to hear a moan.
“Please help me,” the young man cried.
Christiano stopped and lowered himself so that he was inches from the young man’s face. His eyes still burned red, and his teeth were still protruding and very sharp, dripping in blood.
“No, please…,” the young man cried again.
Christiano grabbed him by the hair and slowly brought the man’s face to his own. “You will pay for this,” he said, and sank his teeth into the cold, wet neck of the young man.
The blood was thick and sweet, and had Christiano not been so overwrought with grief, he would have enjoyed this young man very much. But instead he sucked the blood from the jugular vein just past the point of its turning sour. Stopping here meant the man would forever roam the earth, neither dead nor alive but somewhere in between. The term that was currently popular was “zombie.” Had he stopped a moment earlier, the young man would have died. Had he kept drinking until the blood became sweet and warm again, the young man would have lived an eternity as a vampire himself. But Christiano didn’t do either of those. He stopped and spit out the last mouthful, and threw the young man’s head back to the ground.
“Now you will know,” Christiano spit at the young man. “Now you will know.”
He kicked the man in the side again and walked over to Bernhardt. He slowly lowered his lover off the wooden pole and removed the long wooden spike from his heart. In the distance, he heard the sirens as they quickly approached the plaza. He wrapped Bernhardt in his arms and ran quickly down the street toward their home. Raindrops streamed down his face, washing away his salty tears. He looked up into the sky and cursed the storm that had brought death to his home that evening.
Every evening when he woke, Christiano prayed he would die. He knew he would not, of course, and cursed the gods and the fates that had borne him into this eternal life, but he prayed anyway. He’d wake up early in the evening, shortly after the sun dropped, with tears in his eyes and a dull, aching pain around his heart. For a few weeks after Bernhardt’s death, Christiano sulked around the apartment, crying and spending hours looking through the memories of their life together. In the eighty years they’d loved each other, they’d accrued many priceless souvenirs of their time and their life together. It took Christiano almost a month to go through them and pay them homage. When he was finished, he found himself bitter and angry again at the mob that had taken his lover from him. And he vowed to avenge Bernhardt’s senseless killing.
Up until this point, feedings had been only a matter of survival. Christiano needed fresh blood for his nourishment and to give him strength to spend his evenings with the man he loved. But now things were different, and when Christiano finished looking through his photos and souvenirs of his life with Bernhardt, he was a new man. He woke that evening with a hunger he’d never known. It was a hunger not just for blood but also for violence and pain and revenge.
These were feelings foreign to Christiano, and ones that he’d often prayed never to experience, regardless of how long his eternity would eventually be. But when he woke with them that evening enveloping his body and vibrating through every fiber of his being, he found himself embracing them and looking forward to their collective experience.
It was early June, and a welcome cool breeze wafted through the Paris evening. Christiano walked the streets, taking note of the various bars and restaurants and sidewalk cafés that were filled with people laughing and drinking and smoking and eating. Laughter and conversation filled the air with a rancid stench that caused his stomach to wrench in painful knots and forced him to hold back the overwhelming desire to vomit.
He found himself at a club that he and Bernhardt had visited a couple of times. It had only opened several months earlier, and so they hadn’t made it a habit yet to frequent the bar. Certainly they were not known as a couple there yet. But the young college men who frequented the club very much appealed to both Christiano and Bernhardt, and they’d enjoyed the couple of visits they’d had. And so Christiano smiled as he walked into the club, and the smell of wine and cigarettes and overcharged libidos smothered him as he slowly walked though the crowded room.
He didn’t feel like playing games tonight. His cock had become fully hard even before the front door clicked shut behind him as he walked into the club, and his heart pounded and his skin tingled with the desire to feed and to kill. Sometimes, in the past, he’d enjoyed engaging in the games the mortals played when they were on the prowl for sex. He’d found them interesting and exciting, and they’d heightened the sexual experience for both him and Bernhardt. But tonight was not one of those nights, and he leaned against the wall and focused his attention on two men playing pool a few feet away from him.
One of the men was short of stature, with well-developed and overworked muscles that he showed off by wearing cutoff denim shorts and a bleached white muscle shirt. His blond hair was a little long and t
ussled and kept falling down over his eyes, which caused him to brush it away absently. His skin was tanned and smooth and glistened with a light sheen of sweat from the heat in the club. His baby blue eyes sparkled even in the dark of the room and were lined by long, black eyelashes.
His boyfriend was tall and thin. He was strong and well muscled as well, but it was obvious that his were developed from natural hard work rather than a few too many vanity-filled hours at the local gym. He had short black hair that looked like it was cropped to be as easily maintained as possible. His red and black flannel shirtsleeves were rolled up to reveal hairy, muscular arms, and his black jeans clung to powerful legs that carried him with an air of confidence. He had a thick shadow on his cheeks and jaw that caused Christiano’s cock to flex again involuntarily.
Christiano noticed both the young men staring at him intently, and locked his eyes on to theirs. When they smiled at him, he returned the smile and reached down and slowly groped his crotch and squeezed it several times. He felt it grow harder with his touch, and when he looked down at it, he was happy to see the long, thick outline stretch several inches down his leg.
This is what you want, he whispered to the two boyfriends several feet away, without moving his lips. Why don’t you come over here and get it?
He smiled as he watched the two young men look at him, bewildered, and then stare at each other as if they were experiencing the same dream.
Don’t think about it too much, he whispered again as he took a drink and smiled. Because the offer won’t be on the table for long. There are plenty of hungry young men here who will be happy to take it if you continue to contemplate.
Christiano grinned as the boyfriends set their pool cues down and took a step forward in unison. He noticed they both had hard-ons straining to be released from the confines of their jeans. As they got closer, he could smell their hunger and their desire hanging thick in a cloud around them, and when they were only a couple of steps away, he could also smell a faint trace of fear. That was good. They were not completely stupid, then. It would be all that much more fun if they weren’t completely stupid and might be able to comprehend what was going to happen to them.
Midnight Thirsts: Erotic Tales of the Vampire Page 25