Becomes the Rose

by Pelaam

  “My attraction to you,” Tarin said, his voice hoarse. “Is it because you’re a vampire?” He stood facing Boyce, searching the older man’s face.

  “Yes and no,” Boyce sighed. “No, I am not exerting some kind of influence over you.”

  “Which Anton tried,” Tarin said, suddenly certain of what the blond had attempted when they first met.

  “No doubt,” Boyce responded dryly. “And yes, because I recognise you as my soul-mate and thus you respond to me the way Eric did with Flynn.”

  “Then what do we—” Tarin began but was cut short.

  “There is no we,” Boyce said curtly. “There can be no we. I will not condemn you to this… this purgatory. As Halloween ends and the sun rises, you will leave here and forget you ever met us.”

  “I won’t forget,” Tarin said hotly. “How can you even think I would?”

  “You have no choice. What life can you have with one who exists for little more than one day a year? Were we free, I would show you the beauty and the majesty of the night. I would court you, woo you, and only when you had given full and careful thought to the future, only then would I consider turning you and claiming you for eternity. You will go and I will remain, and I will never forget how close I came to my own paradise.”

  Tarin simply gaped at the space where Boyce had stood. He turned to Flynn, his heart squeezing in anguish.

  “I can’t go. I can’t forget,” he said.

  “We have no idea how to break the curse,” Flynn said. “I don’t doubt Boyce when he says he won’t turn you and condemn you to be cursed, too. Nor can you stay here as a human. You would be the innocent amongst us, and Anton would constantly seek to destroy you. If you tried to return, the pain for Boyce would start all over again. You have to go, Tarin. I’m sorry.”

  “He’ll be in the attic,” Eric said. “He’ll be hurting. Go to him, Tarin. He may turn you away, but you can at least try. The stairs are at the end of the passageway where your bedroom is.” Tarin saw Eric gaze defiantly at Flynn. The young vampire obviously understood the pain Tarin felt.

  Looking around the faces of those gathered, Tarin saw the same sadness in them all. He could not let it end this way. He followed Eric’s direction, no one standing in his way, and headed for the attic. As he emerged through the trap door, he could see Boyce outlined against a stained glass window.

  For a moment or two they simply stared at one another. Tarin knew the first move had to be his. He reached for his shirt, pulling it from his jeans. Slowly he unbuttoned it and shrugged it to the floor. His jeans were low slung, hanging at his hips. He knew Boyce could clearly see his lightly-furred, bare chest and the scant treasure trail leading beneath his jeans as he let his fingers skim the dusting of hair. He kicked off his shoes and reached for the waistband of his jeans. He unfastened the button fly, letting the jeans slide a little lower, knowing that it would result in an enticing view of his pubic hair.

  He slid his hand into his jeans, adjusting his rapidly stiffening flesh before walking slowly towards the still-unmoving Boyce.

  “I want this,” he said, his voice determined. “I want you. And if I have to go this time, I’ll come back.” He stopped in front of Boyce and reached a hand behind the older man’s head. There was no resistance as Tarin pulled Boyce into their first kiss. As he did, he daringly took hold of one of the vampire’s hands and let it touch his hot, damp erection.

  The world suddenly tilted, and Tarin found himself on his back on the floor. His jeans and socks were gone, and his legs splayed wide, hooked over Boyce’s elbows, leaving him utterly vulnerable and exposed. The vampire shifted slightly, and Tarin could feel the bulge at Boyce’s clothed groin press against his defenceless entrance.

  “I want this, and I know you won’t hurt me. You won’t take me unprepared or dry,” Tarin said, his voice calm and certain. He also suddenly felt very self-conscious. He was lying on his back completely naked and helpless before Boyce’s hungry gaze.

  Apart from the points where his legs were spread over Boyce’s elbows, the older man was not touching him, just crouching as if surveying what Tarin offered. He was preternaturally still, reminding Tarin that Boyce was indeed a vampire, un-breathing, unmoving, a creature radically different from himself. Although his heart skipped a beat at the thought, he also knew that he loved and wanted Boyce.

  It was as if he had unwittingly passed a test, and Boyce’s mouth moved to cover his. The kiss was filled with promise and passion. As Boyce gently possessed his lips, all the unused cells and synapses in his brain exploded into life. He gave a moan of delight when Boyce brushed his tongue lightly against his lower lip, requesting entrance. His mouth opened at once, inviting Boyce to explore to his heart’s desire.

  As their tongues slid against each other Tarin felt a current of electricity race through him and it drove all coherent thought from his brain. His heart began to race when Boyce intensified his caress, gently sucking Tarin’s lower lip into his mouth. Preternaturally sharp teeth nibbled at it, and Tarin whimpered softly.

  He felt Boyce’s hands wandering possessively over his body. His fingers were everywhere; nipples, ribs, stomach, thighs, and face, and kisses followed one after another, almost relentlessly. Tarin was left dizzy and helpless by the sensations of being at the utter mercy of the vampire. He was barely able to reciprocate. He just clung to the powerful biceps, trying not to faint from the sheer intensity of the experience. Boyce had his mouth firmly attached to Tarin’s neck and a hand working Tarin’s erection. The skin of his throat began to tingle as it became hyper-sensitised.

  Boyce had him so aroused that Tarin was sure he would come at a single word but his release was denied. His hips pumped, trying to find that elusive last sensation to tip him over even as Boyce’s hand touched in just the right way and yet withheld the final touch Tarin needed.

  “Please,” he begged as Boyce sucked hard at his throat. The faintest pinprick of the sharp teeth finally pushed him over the edge. Boyce sucked and Tarin sighed in bliss as his orgasm finally engulfed him in wave after wave of pleasure. He came hard, spilling repeatedly into Boyce’s hand and the vampire continued to milk him gently as if sharing Tarin’s orgasm with him. As his release finally abated, he felt a tongue brush lightly where teeth had punctured his throat. Then Boyce was kissing his lax lips and whispering soothingly, and he felt himself slide into a blissful, post-orgasmic lethargy.

  He lay limp in Boyce’s arms, barely cognisant of leaving the attic and being taken downstairs. The vampire carried him to his bed and laid him down.

  “One night of bliss, my love,” Boyce whispered. “One night and then you must go.”

  “Tell me you love me,” Tarin pleaded.

  “I love you,” Boyce replied. “I will always love you and only you. Let me show you.”

  While Tarin fumbled with the buttons on Boyce’s dress shirt, Boyce let his hands wander across Tarin’s chest and belly, grazing against his nipples in the process. Tarin groaned, and Boyce began to nip at the reddened nubs and tug at the gold nipple ring.

  “Want to see you, touch you,” Tarin groaned. He noted how much paler the vampire’s skin was in comparison to his own. It was cool but not cold. He let his hands travel along Boyce’s chest, his side, and down to his hip. The coolness and paleness were the only signs of Boyce’s true nature. Beneath his hand, Tarin could feel Boyce’s muscles moving, and they were alive and strong. The vampire’s body was so tempting that Tarin felt touching with his hands was not enough.

  Boyce gave a pleasured moan when Tarin started to lick his nipple. He became pliant, letting Tarin take what he needed. Tarin bit the nipple lightly and was rewarded by a sound of pure pleasure. He bit down on the other nipple and rolled the bud between his teeth. He felt Boyce’s groin come in contact with his own, the hard length rubbing enticingly against his own. They moved against one another, drawing out the anticipation of their lovemaking.

  Then, in one swift, smooth motion Boyce turned them so T
arin was on his back. Once again Boyce hovered hungrily above him. His hand reached to follow the line of Tarin’s eyebrow and then down his cheek, his chin, pausing at the bruise on Tarin’s throat, leaving a sweet tingle in its wake.

  “You’re beautiful,” Boyce said.

  Tarin felt himself blush. He’d never been the subject of such intense scrutiny. His shaft was rapidly re-filling and twitched approvingly as the mesmerising eyes lighted upon it as if trying to tempt the vampire into doing more than merely look. The feral smile from his lover as Boyce watched the organ dance with desire made Tarin shiver in anticipation. When the older man made no further move, Tarin caressed Boyce’s chest, sides, and let his hands skim over the taut buttocks. In response, Boyce moved forward, causing their rigid shafts to brush against one another.

  Boyce captured Tarin’s mouth in a kiss that felt like a searing flame. His lover’s hands suddenly seemed everywhere at once and still it was not enough, would never be enough. The increasing rapture as they inexorably moved to full lovemaking was like a blazing fire in Tarin’s veins. Lips trailed caresses down his shoulders, sharp teeth bit into his nipples, and a slick muscle tongued his navel, and it was pure bliss.

  He did not expect the next move and he cried out in surprise as he felt two slick fingers push into his body. He had been so enveloped in his pleasure he had not seen the vampire produce the oil or coat his fingers. The scent of jasmine arose into the air, and Tarin purred his pleasure. In response, the vampire growled low in his throat, a feral, bestial sound that aroused Tarin even more. He looked on, his hands clenching into fists in the bedding as Boyce began pumping the fingers rhythmically back and forth.

  The oil worked perfectly. The vampire’s fingers glided in him smoothly, the only resistance that of Tarin’s inner muscles clenching around the desired invasion. He writhed and whimpered shamelessly as he felt the fingers being spread, stretching him while being pushed in and out. He moaned encouragingly as Boyce leaned down.

  The vampire began grinding against Tarin as he worked his fingers deeper into the desired body. Curling his fingers, he searched for the hidden nub, rubbing and stretching the oiled inner walls of Tarin’s channel and smiled as Tarin suddenly groaned loudly. He repeated the motion, brushing the bundle of nerves while twisting his fingers inside Tarin, stretching, slicking, relaxing, and preparing him fully for their ultimate joining. The two fingers slid back and forth easily, and then three rubbed relentlessly over Tarin’s pleasure spot.

  Tarin cried aloud as the fire in his groin unfurled and the blaze of need enveloped his whole being. Boyce took his time preparing him; his ministrations achingly slow until Tarin was desperate to finally feel Boyce inside him. His breathing was little more than harsh, shallow pants when Boyce removed his fingers and positioned himself to easily enter him.

  Tarin’s buttocks rested on Boyce’s thighs, one leg over the vampire’s shoulder, the other held out wide. Although he was exposed and vulnerable once more, Tarin was unafraid and unashamed. He could see his lover’s eyes staring at his prepared portal, and he felt as if only Boyce could fill the suddenly aching void that the loss of the vampire’s fingers had created.

  The vampire sought his gaze, and Tarin gasped from the intensity reflected in Boyce’s eyes. It was as though his lover’s face had sharpened in some way, becoming more angular, losing all softness. His eyes were alight with a cold blue fire. At that moment, Boyce smiled, his lips curving to reveal his teeth, his incisors sharp, glistening, and inhuman. Then the cold fire in his eyes seemed to heat and his eyes took on the look of a man gazing at one he loved and deeply desired. Tarin’s heart soared and he smiled, nodding, and eagerly lifted his hips in blatant invitation.

  It was everything Tarin had hoped for and more. Boyce entered him slowly, lovingly, filling him more with every gentle thrust, giving him time to adjust. Tarin encircled his legs around the vampire’s waist, and he pressed his heels against the tightly toned cheeks as they flexed and relaxed. When fully sheathed, and Tarin was ready, Boyce moved gracefully, deeply, and smoothly. He leaned over Tarin who found his body responded as if they had already spent an eternity learning and perfecting their movements. He held onto Boyce’s arms which were now braced on either side of his head and concentrated on the ecstasy of their lovemaking.

  Boyce dropped his head and Tarin moaned softly as butterfly kisses and light nips were dusted over his face and neck. Finally the vampire’s lips brushed against his neck. Their caress was tender and Tarin understood the request. He turned his head and teeth began to press to the already rosy mark. He felt his throat pierced, the blood flow, and he gave himself willingly to be taken fully.

  Boyce continued to thrust into him, his movements growing in speed and yet massaging Tarin’s sweet spot with ease time and time again. Tarin moved effortlessly with him, desire, love, and need continuing to build until he was almost unbearably aroused. All the while he could feel Boyce’s mouth on his throat, sucking steadily until Tarin was lightheaded, although he was unable to decide whether it was from Boyce’s feeding or his own high state of arousal.

  He felt their heartbeats gradually aligning until they became a single, strong cadence. He moved to clasp Boyce’s head to his throat, urging the vampire to take more of his living essence as he knew they were truly as one. His hands were pinned over his head, and Boyce’s hips began a volley of short, sharp, feral snaps that created a barrage of erotic sensation against his prostate. Tarin opened his mouth in a silent scream of ecstasy.

  He came hard, tumbling helpless in the maelstrom of an orgasm far beyond any he had ever experienced before. Pleasure crashed over him like a tidal wave, drowning him, and he gasped for air. Boyce’s mouth left his throat and the vampire bellowed his own completion. Tarin moaned at the sensation of the unexpectedly hot, wet pulses of the vampire’s seed coating his quivering channel, burying deep in his willing body. He was overwhelmed by the sheer bliss and as Boyce’s mouth sealed over his, Tarin’s world slowly faded to grey.

  * * * *

  “Wake up, love. It’s time for you to leave.” The words were like knives in Boyce’s heart. He had lain with Tarin, watching the human sleep. Everything about his love was committed to memory; the way he looked, sounded, smelt, felt, and tasted. Part of him wanted to selfishly keep the boy with him, another hoped he would return next Halloween. Another wished that, once in the world beyond their accursed place, Tarin would find a joyous life without a vampire who only existed for fleeting seconds before being trapped once more.

  However, as Tarin’s eyes opened, the vampire was almost overwhelmed by the depths of love and devotion that shone for him and him alone.

  “Let me stay,” Tarin murmured. Boyce could see Tarin was still drained from their extended lovemaking.

  “You cannot,” Boyce said, his voice thick with anguish and regret. “My lessers and minions would die for you,” he added, knowing he was being unfair. “Is that what you want?”

  “No,” Tarin gasped. He felt as if his heart was breaking as Boyce helped him dress and his things were brought to him.

  There was a garage he could enter from the house in which the beautiful silver Rolls Royce Phantom was kept. Around it were all the members of Boyce’s family, and they each hugged Tarin tightly in turn. Last of all was Eric, and the youngest vampire’s tears fell freely down his cheeks.

  “I won’t forget you, Tarin,” he whispered. “Be happy.”

  Unable to speak, Tarin shook his head mutely as his eyes sought out Boyce. The vampire stood immobile, his face devoid of emotion. He might have been carved from granite. Tarin got into the car as directed by Flynn.

  “It’s breaking his heart, too, boy,” the blond murmured as he shut the passenger door. “But he has to be strong for all of us, for you.”

  Nodding, Tarin was surprised that Boyce slid into the driver’s seat and then he stared as the lessers and minions armed themselves before Boyce nodded and the doors opened.

  Flynn and Jorge shot fo
rward, intercepting the figures that lurked nearby.

  “Now, Master!”

  The voice was Flynn’s and the car sped forward, making Tarin gasp at the sudden movement. It would only be a short drive from Boyce’s house to the end of the road but it was one now fraught with danger. He gave a sharp yelp of fear as a vampire’s face pressed against the window before a sharp movement of the car dislodged it from the Phantom’s roof.

  Tarin felt fear, and shock sent adrenaline coursing through his veins. He was aware of Boyce speaking.

  “This is not usual for Anton and his people. We do not fight. We are too evenly matched. It will achieve nothing.”

  Tarin shuddered.

  “They will not harm you. I will turn them all to dust before I let them lay a hand on you.” Boyce’s voice was hard and cold, and his eyes never left the point ahead where he could now see the mist that was the demarcation area for the end of his world. He put the car into neutral, letting it coast. “I will always love you. Be safe, my love.”

  The words came unexpectedly and before Tarin could react his lover dived from the car. Tarin gave a yell of shock as the car shot forward from the powerful shove of the vampire clan leader. He grasped the wheel to steer the car straight but could not immediately reach the brake. He shot into and through the mist before he could bring the car to a halt.

  It took yet more precious seconds to get out and begin to run back. He could not leave Boyce. He had to get back. As he plunged into the mist, he could hear the sounds of the fighting that had continued, and then he heard words that turned his blood to ice in its veins.

  “Anton has spiked the Master. He needs help.”

  “No! Boyce!” Tarin screamed as he raced forward, and then he fell to his knees, a keening wail of agony torn from the depths of his soul rending the air. The mist had vanished, leaving him kneeling in the middle of a deserted road. “Don’t you die, Boyce. Don’t you dare die. I love you. I’ll be back. I swear. Next year…” The words died on his lips as wracking sobs shook his frame. He crawled to the lone, gnarled tree at the side of the road, buried his face in his hands, and sobbed.