Lucien removed Christophe’s hand once satisfied he was sufficiently oiled and before the innocent, virginal touches could ignite him to climax before entering his lover. He positioned himself at Christophe’s entrance. With a deep breath from both of them, Lucien began to push slowly, but steadily into Christophe’s body.
Christophe’s eyes watered at the burn but he let out no sound. He wrapped his legs around Lucien’s waist as directed. He had never felt so full before. Pain began to ease and the feeling of pressure decreased. He shifted his hips for a better position, causing Lucien to move inside him. His eyes fluttered open in surprise as the movement made his sheath contract against Lucien’s hardness. As Lucien was fully enveloped, each man felt himself become complete; all the cold, dark places in each becoming filled with warmth and love. Lucien rocked carefully into his lover’s beautiful body.
“Lucien!” Christophe cried as his lover’s shaft nudged his sweet spot. Pleasure swept through his body, rolling in continuous waves around him. Lucien withdrew a little further and pushed in a little harder, moaning softly. Little mewls spilt from Christophe’s mouth as Lucien repeated his actions over and over. “Lucien,” he moaned again.
“Let me love you,” the older man continued. He continued to rock against his mate until, with a shuddering cry of his name, Christophe came again and wet heat spread between them. As the tight sheath clenched around him, Lucien gave a primal bellow, fastened his teeth at Christophe’s throat and poured his essence into the still-trembling body.
Christophe gave a wanton cry, firstly from the hot juices filling his body and then at the suckling at his throat. He knew he would wear his lord’s brand of possession the next day. He felt light-headed and floating and only slowly realised that Lucien was still buried inside him…and still hard.
“No more, my lord,” he begged. “I surely cannot bear your pleasure again.” He gave a guttural groan as Lucien’s hand unerringly found his sated flesh, beginning a steady stroking that caused his limp length to begin to twitch at the touch.
‘Once more, beloved,” Lucien crooned. This time his undulations became harder and deeper.
Christophe was barely aware of Lucien’s never-ending thrusts. Every touch he felt, every sensation coalesced into a single sensation of ecstasy that enveloped his entire body. Then, Lucien lifted Christophe’s legs over his shoulders and pounded into him with all his strength. Christophe wailed his appreciation with a deafening cry. His body was shaking, he was hard again, and Lucien was fisting him as he slammed into his body, both men groaning loudly.
“Tell me you want this, want me,” Lucien demanded, his hips ramming into Christophe’s heat, his hand stroking at the rigid rod.
“More than anything … more than anyone,” Christophe vowed.
“Tell me more,” Lucien demanded.
“I ache for you, I burn for you. It is an all-consuming fire within me. I need you more than breath,” Christophe panted, his head thrashing from side to side, small hands griping tightly to his bigger mate.
“Your words inflame me, my love,” Lucien growled. “I would hear still more.”
“I cannot bear it, my lord. Lucien, please, spill your seed within me, give me release.”
“If I offered you eternity with me, would you take it?” Lucien persisted, continuing his erotic assault.
“Yes, yes, with open heart and open arms. Give me your seed, Lucien.” He screamed as a cataclysmic climax stormed through his slender frame. He shook and shuddered, the tiny trickle of his seed no reflection of the enormity of his release. He felt the wet heat surging through his bowels as Lucien’s seed flooded his body. He moaned as Lucien’s teeth once more latched at his throat and a lassitude began to settle over him leaving him floating between awareness and oblivion. His eyes fluttered closed and silence descended in the bedchamber.
****
A small whimper escaped into the darkness. Christophe tried unsuccessfully to open leaden eyes. A caress to his brow settled him instantly and a loving voice was in his ear.
Softly, my love. I am here. You are too weak to move. You need to feed and rest once more.”
Christophe panted with need, as a hunger he had never felt before swept through his body at the coppery scent that suddenly permeated the air. He sucked greedily at the warm elixir.
“Not too fast, angel,” Lucien crooned and laughed softly at the low growl of displeasure as he removed his wrist from Christophe’s mouth. He kissed the pale lips, licking at them, tasting himself and cradled the small, cool body closer to his powerful frame. “Sleep in my arms, beloved. When you next awake, we will face eternity together.
****
The next morning a small procession left the village to go to the sacrificial pole. Some already cried for the loss they knew they would find; the loss of another bright, young innocent. Others were concerned that the priest was not in his lodgings, but took solace in the suggestion the prelate was probably already praying over Christophe’s corpse. As they approached the site, the party split into two. Those that ran shrieking back to the village in fear and those who remained in stunned shock and disbelief.
The pole to which Christophe had been bound was snapped in half like a dry twig. Instead of the golden youth, it was the priest’s body they found, throat torn out as if by some huge, fell beast. Yet no beast of four legs could have impaled the priest’s dead body on the remains of the pole imbedded in the ground, nor could it have penned the message, in dated, ornate script, that was fastened to the copse’s chest.
‘A curse on you and your village. You embraced evil and fed it those you should have fought to the last to preserve; your innocent and your pure. Instead you gave them willingly in a sacrifice that was neither needed nor warranted. Search not for Christophe for he has been taken far from your reach. He will never be hurt by you again.’
****
The words proved prophetic. In less than the turn of a year the village was nothing more than a graveyard of empty, rotting and decayed buildings. It was devoid of and shunned by humanity. Its name uttered in whispers and associated forever with the depravity it had nourished. The name of Christophe passed into legend. All that was ever found of the youth was the coarse shift he had been forced to wear.
Many miles away, in a castle that had been little more than an ornate crypt and was now a home, a being of the night that had once walked in solitude and shadow marvelled anew at the naked, golden form of his sated lover. Lucien bent once more to drink his fill of kisses from lips that spoke of love and devotion. Christophe smiled contentedly and tugged his lover’s head down for more intoxicating kisses as the dark male pulled back. Lucien gazed with adoration at the beautiful young man that illuminated his life and warmed his heart. A day did not pass that Lucien failed to offer thanks to the guiding force that led his steps one fateful year ago. The ancient vampire and his chosen mate knew neither would ever know coldness or loneliness ever again.