@alzenidkk's Lovely Art Inspired Me ❤️

@alzenidkk's lovely art inspired me ❤️

Slightly NSFW, sorry (I'm not lol)

~

The warmth of a human was incomparable to the molten sweetness of their blood flowing down one's throat. That, every vampire could agree with - except for Dracula, who was no mere vampire, who only existed to drain humans of their life. Recently, he had come to find the taste of human blood revolting, as revolting as the pigs containing it: why would he feed on the creatures who took his Lisa from him?

No, he craved warmth. He craved heat, a solid body to hold, flesh to pierce and to caress, soft lips crashing on his own, the bliss of being worshipped and worship.

Dracula craved his Hector, sweeter than any blood.

The boy was singing in his ear, mad with pleasure as their bodies joined. His Adam's apple quivered with every scream, surrounded by bleeding marks that Dracula couldn't resist licking - ah, his blood was different, diluted by Dracula's magic flowing into him and the curse that fated him to his side. He didn't thrust, as he has no intention of harming his boy... He was doing a great job by himself, lifting his hips and slamming them against Dracula's in the most exquisite dance.

"My Lord! Please! I'm close!"

"Let go, precious," he purred to Hector's flushed ear, voice steady against his breathless one. "Soil me. I know you yearn it."

And he did. How Dracula adored him when he let himself go, when he bared his whole soul to him, only him; when his body tensed and trembled and clenched around Dracula, part of him, staining him with his most delectable sin. It was enough to make Dracula lose all reason: he marked the boy himself, by sinking his fangs inside his supple flesh and filling him. An exchange of heat and pleasure and adoration, as the two could not be torn apart.

Ah, but he was delicious, heady like the most prestigious wine. It was with great pain that Dracula had to remind himself to not drain the boy. He had no need: his life was already his, after all.

Hector, the poor boy, collapsed the moment Dracula let his throat go. He nestled himself in the crook of Dracula's neck, nose and mouth pressed where blood would flow in his veins were he alive.

"Hmph, you act like a vampire youngling, sometimes," Dracula mused, not strong enough to resist the temptation of carding his claws through Hector's damp hair. He relished in the small shiver of the boy at having his scalp scratched.

"What do you mean, my Lord?"

"It's as if you mean to bite me. Vampire children seek the blood of their sires."

"I want to bite you."

At that outrageous confession, Hector lifted his head, to meet Dracula's eyes - which, he could tell, went wide in surprise. His own, however, were lit by euphoria in the dark pits of lust. "But I know you wouldn't feel anything, my Lord. I wish I could show you..."

Oh, the boy was drunk with pleasure. He was speaking nonsense. No human could ever be allowed to bite a vampire; not only Dracula's skin was too tough for human teeth to mark, but the mere notion of being marked! Offering his very life!

"Hmm."

And yet.

Dracula allowed his boy to nuzzle against his cheek. Perhaps one day. One day, he will feed his precious his own blood, he will allow his teeth to clamp around his throat. And then, not even God would dare to put himself between them.

In the meantime, as Hector's lips left kisses more searing than any bite, enough to make the old vampire sigh in pleasure and love, perhaps the notion of being marked by his boy did not sound too unappealing...