Midnight Thirsts: Erotic Tales of the Vampire

  Christiano increased his sucking on the boy’s neck as his hands tickled across the kid’s chest. The kid’s skin was cooling down quickly, but his nipples were still hard. Christiano wanted to lick at them, but that would mean he’d have to stop feeding, and that was not an option at this point. He could still enjoy the young man, though, and reached down to squeeze the soft cock lying between the boy’s legs. A couple of tugs on it, and Christiano felt it try to fill with blood and grow hard again. That meant he still had another couple of minutes before the boy was dead and his blood became rancid.

  It was at this point that the blood became thicker and sweeter. It was what Christiano considered dessert, and he drank the thick blood thirstily. The boy lost consciousness a moment later, and Christiano reluctantly let go of the half-hard cock in his hands and stopped massaging the boy’s nipples.

  When the blood flow began to thin and taste like tarnished brass, Christiano took one last mouthful and then slowly pulled himself from the limp body beneath him. He looked down at the boy and noticed that his eyes were still open. He closed the kid’s eyelids and lay back on the seat next to the dead boy. He took a couple of deep breaths and then wiped the quickly caking blood from his lips.

  “Sorry, kid,” he said as he looked over at the white, lifeless face next to him. “Nothing personal.”

  After catching his breath for a few moments, Christiano got out of the car and buttoned up his jeans and shirt. He walked around to the passenger’s door and opened it. The dead boy’s body slumped across the seat and halfway out the open door. Christiano reached inside and lifted the lifeless body effortlessly. He walked over to the Dumpster a few feet away and tossed the heavy body over his head and into the Dumpster. Then he walked back to the car, shut both doors, and walked out of the parking lot and down Colfax toward the cathedral.

  Back inside the cathedral, Christiano quickly found the statue and the trapdoor. He climbed down the stairs more quickly this time, since he was more accustomed to them, and lit three of the candles in the small dungeon room. He looked around himself and sighed deeply. Already, after just one feeding and a couple of hours in this strange new town, he felt more at home than he had in years. It was a good feeling.

  Christiano opened the door to the casket and looked inside. It was calling to him. He stripped his clothes and folded them neatly and laid them on the chair against the wall opposite his casket.

  Standing naked in the cool, damp room several feet below the ground, he caressed his body. He felt alive, and his cock stirred back to life quickly. It was a good sign. He wrapped his fist around his long, thick cock and slowly stroked it for several minutes. It didn’t take long for him to shoot his second load of the night. Thick, white streams of semen poured from his cock and onto the dirt floor beneath him. His knees buckled beneath him as he unloaded himself, and he reached out to steady himself on the side of the coffin.

  When he was completely spent, he shook the last remnants of his seed from his shrinking cock and climbed into the casket. The silk pillow and sheets were soft and cool on his naked skin. He closed his eyes and looked forward to the deep sleep and the dreams he knew would come. They were almost always good dreams, comforting and most welcome. He loved the dreams, even the ones that weren’t quite as colorful and comforting as most.

  He took a deep breath and looked around the room one last time before he closed his eyes and relaxed his muscles. He was asleep in less than ten minutes.

  Chapter Two

  “Christy, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. You simply cannot argue with me anymore about this.” His mother looked down at him, her eyes filled with gentleness and love as she stroked his soft, smooth skin. “Bedtime is absolutely no later than five o’clock. We can’t risk being awake when the sun rises. You know that. Why do you insist on arguing with me?”

  “Probably because you insist on calling him Christy,” his father whispered as he sneaked up behind her and kissed her softly on the nape of her neck. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times not to call him Christy. How is he ever going to grow up and become a strong, virile vampire if his mother keeps calling him a girl’s name?”

  “Oh, for crying out loud, Stefan. He’s only three years old. I seriously doubt that my calling him Christy is going to traumatize him in any way. He’s my little baby, and I need to hold on to him for as long as I can. In a couple more years he’ll be accompanying you on feedings, and before you know it, he’ll be going solo. He’ll grow up fast enough. But for now he’s still my little boy, and I will spoil him if I want.”

  “Yes, dear. Just don’t come crying to me when he’s sixteen and still sucking on these beautiful breasts of yours,” his father said as he leaned into his mother and cupped her ample breasts in his hands and kissed her passionately on the lips.

  “Stefan! Not in front of the boy.”

  “Come on, Marguerite. It’s 1814. Get with the times, will you? Kids today are growing up faster than ever. He’s going to have to get used to it sooner or later.”

  “And later it will be. Now get out of here and leave us alone. I have to sing Christy to sleep now. I’ll be in, in just a few minutes.”

  “But…”

  “Go on.”

  “Oh, all right,” Stefan sulked as he turned and walked toward the bedroom door. When he reached the door, he looked back and blew his wife a kiss, then exited the room.

  Christiano looked up at his mother’s beautiful, creamy-white face and giggled as she began her lullaby that always put him to sleep immediately.

  Stefan had been right, of course, but as much as he might get upset that Marguerite was overprotecting their son, and as much as he worried that she was overnurturing Christiano, he could not bring himself to stand his ground and force her to let go of their son and allow him to grow up. The few times he’d tried, she’d broken into tears and become faint with hysteria. Stefan was a strong vampire and a natural-born leader. But the one thing that could bring him to his knees in agony was to see his beloved wife racked with pain and crying. Those giant drops of water that cascaded down her delicate white cheeks were more than he could stand. More than he had ever been able to stand. And so he stood back and let his wife raise their son as she saw fit.

  By the time Christiano was ten years old, it was obvious he was very different from the other little vampire boys. While other boys flocked together and wreaked havoc and mischief wherever they went, Christiano preferred wandering the fields alone beneath the moonlight and composing songs and poems under his mother’s watchful eye. While other boys begged to accompany their fathers on nightly feedings and rendezvous even when they were not hungry and did not need to feed, Christiano preferred to stay home and brush his mother’s hair as he read her his latest composition.

  From as far back as he could remember, Christiano had been an outcast among everyone save his mother. He had very delicate features that distinguished him from the other boys: soft, silky skin that, though white from the lack of sunlight, shined with a little more color than any of the other vampires, boys or girls. His light hazel eyes sparkled with life and joy and hidden secrets aching to be told. The twin dimples that graced either side of his full, pink lips gave him a doll-like appearance, and made it all that much easier for other vampire kids to ridicule him.

  And they did. Sometimes they forgot and made fun of Christiano in front of the adult vampires. They would always get scolded and reprimanded and pulled by the ears by their parents. The older vampire parents reminded their children that of all living beings, vampires should know what it felt like to be different, to be scorned and ridiculed. They should never make another vampire feel ashamed or embarrassed about who he was. They should be proud to be vampires and always support one another, despite their differences. They should embrace their uniqueness and celebrate the diversity of every individual vampire.

  The other kids would sulk as they were dragged away by their parents. The parents always sp
oke eloquently and loudly, making sure everyone, especially Marguerite and Stefan, heard them. But behind their words was always a note of sadness and patronization. They would look back as they dragged their own kids into the houses and, upon meeting the eyes of Stefan and Marguerite, would drop their own to the ground.

  If anyone had told Christiano his life would forever change on his eightieth birthday, he would have laughed. There was no reason that particular day should have been any different from any other day in his life. He was young and just entering into the prime of his long life. For every seventy-five or eighty years of life, a vampire only aged physically about ten or fifteen years, and so Christiano was still a beautiful young vampire. He wore his hair a little longer back then, the natural black waves flowing almost to his shoulders. His twin dimples stayed with him and caused everyone who looked at him to fall in love instantly.

  And when he met Bernhardt, that’s exactly what happened. He was in Germany, taking a couple of years to travel and learn the language. His mother had been adamant in not wanting her only son to venture so far from home, but Stefan had met Christiano’s proposal of three years’ travel experience in Germany with open arms. For the first time in their lives, father and son formed an uncomfortable alliance, and much to Marguerite’s dismay, Christiano set out for a new life in Germany.

  On his birthday, Christiano had made plans to meet some friends at a bar. He arrived first and, after waiting for them for almost half an hour, was beginning to lose patience with them. They were always tardy, and he, for one, had had enough of it. Were they not adults? Did they not fathom the importance of responsibility and being on time? He was fairly new to the country and had so far only made a handful of friends. Could they not be on time just this once to celebrate his birthday?

  When Bernhardt walked through the door, Christiano turned to see if the newcomer was his friends. His eyes met Bernhardt’s, and he immediately felt the breath escape from his lungs in a sigh. Even halfway across the room he was struck by Bernhardt’s beauty, and the energy between the two of them was ecstatic. Christiano forced his mouth to produce enough saliva to allow him to swallow, and tried unsuccessfully to draw his eyes away from the stranger’s.

  Bernhardt kept his own eyes fixed on Christiano’s as he walked past him and made his way to the back of the bar. Once there, he ordered a drink and returned his gaze to Christiano.

  “Take a deep breath and remain calm,” Christiano whispered to himself. He tried to do so but ended up coughing loudly as the harsh, dry air forced its way up his throat and into his nasal cavity. He looked over at Bernhardt again and felt his cock harden as he watched the handsome stranger take a sip of his beer and then lick his full, red lips seductively, his eyes boring deeper into Christiano’s soul.

  Come here, he heard whispered deep inside his head. It was a voice he was not familiar with. He looked at Bernhardt again. Come here, the voice repeated. Christiano was certain it was Bernhardt’s voice, but he was equally certain the handsome stranger’s lips had never parted to speak any words.

  Bernhardt raised one eyebrow, and raised his mug ever so slightly. Are you going to play coy and make me come to you?he said without moving his mouth again.

  Christiano swallowed hard again and walked over to the high table where his new friend stood. “How do you do?” he managed to squeak out as he reached the handsome stranger.

  “I do very well, thank you.”

  “My name is Christiano.”

  “I’m Bernhardt.”

  “Today is my birthday,” Christiano blurted out and then immediately regretted having said it.

  “Congratulations! Happy birthday, Christiano,” Bernhardt said as he smiled and held his mug up in a toast. “To many more birthdays. And to many happy years. Together.”

  “Huh?” Christiano asked, not sure he understood the German correctly.

  “I’m a man with very good intuition. And I have a feeling we’ll be getting to know one another very well, and spending many years together.”

  “You are? I mean, you do?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did you do that earlier?”

  “Do what?”

  “Talk to me without opening your mouth.”

  “It’s an old trick. I will try to show you sometime how to do it.”

  “Would you? I’d like that.”

  “Of course. But first I have to know something. As I said, I’m fairly intuitive, so I believe I am right. But I must know for sure.”

  “What is it?”

  “Are you a night owl?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I’m sorry. I really don’t know how to say this. I’m not accustomed to meeting new friends in this…environment.”

  “What environment is that?”

  “Here, out in…well…the general public. What I mean to say is, if I asked you to meet me tomorrow morning, say at nine o’clock…for breakfast…yes, that’s it, for breakfast—what would you say?”

  Christiano dropped his gaze and focused on his glass of beer on the table. He shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I’d have to decline.”

  “Oh?” Bernhardt said, and gently reached over and cupped Christiano’s chin in his hand. He lifted Christiano’s face up until they were looking into each other’s eyes again. “Why is that?”

  “I’m not really a morning person.”

  Are you a vampire? the voice inside Christiano’s head asked again. Bernhardt’s hand was still holding Christiano’s chin, and his lips never moved. Neither did his eyes, and Christiano knew without a doubt where the question came from.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Oh, good,” Bernhardt said as he dropped his hand from Christiano’s chin and took another large sip of his beer. “I thought you were, but I wasn’t quite certain.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No, no. Quite the opposite. I am also a vampire, and if you were not…well, we’d have a little problem.”

  “And what problem would that be?”

  “Well, I’d have to kill you, and then I’d have been completely wrong about the whole ‘many years together’ thing, now, wouldn’t I have been?”

  Christiano laughed. “Yes, I suppose you would have been at that.”

  I abhor this place, the voice said again. What do you say we leave and go back to my apartment?

  “Only if you promise to show me how to do that,” Christiano said as he set his glass on the table and reached down to take hold of Bernhardt’s hand.

  “I’ll show you that and so much more,” Bernhardt replied, and led Christiano out of the bar and into the dark, cool night.

  “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes upon,” Bernhardt said as he forced himself to pull his lips from Christiano’s.

  “Really?” Christiano said as he licked his lips. It was not the first time those particular words had been said to him, but every time someone spoke them, it felt new and exciting to him. “What is it you like most about me?” he asked teasingly.

  “Where do I start?” Bernhardt asked. “Is it your bedroom eyes that speak volumes of untold secrets? Or is it your milky, smooth complexion that taunts me into believing you’re still a child? Or maybe those adorable dimples on your cheeks that exude an aura of false innocence?”

  “False?” Christiano said, pouting.

  “Or maybe it’s that strong jawline that defies that innocence and says that you are truly a man.”

  Christiano giggled and pulled away from Bernhardt to sit on the bed.

  “No. No, I don’t think it’s any of that,” Bernhardt said.

  “You don’t?”

  “No. I think it might be this beautiful chest of yours, so smooth and hard and begging to be kissed,” he said as he ripped the shirt from Christiano’s chest and leaned in to nibble on Christiano’s nipples and then kiss his way down to the taut stomach and belly button.

  Christiano gasped for breath as he felt Bernhardt’s t
ongue dart its way down his belly and around the sensitive navel.

  “Or perhaps it’s the lure of what lies beneath these skimpy pants,” Bernhardt whispered, and then unbuttoned Christiano’s pants and slid them off his hips and legs in one swift move.

  Christiano swallowed hard and squirmed as Bernhardt slid his hands up and down his smooth, muscular legs, and then lifted his hips off the bed so that he could slide the underwear off as well.

  “Or could it possibly be this most beautiful ass I have ever laid eyes upon?” Bernhardt said as he rolled Christiano over onto his stomach and lowered himself to his knees on the floor so that he could more easily access Christiano’s marble-smooth ass.

  Christiano let out a low moan as he felt Bernhardt’s wet tongue tickle the outside of his ass and then slide ever so slowly inside. His cock grew hard instantly, and he was afraid he’d spend himself too quickly. He tried to think of something, anything to take his mind off the sensation that traveled through Bernhardt’s tongue and into his ass and up deep inside him.

  “Stop,” he managed to squeak out as he pulled himself from Bernhardt’s tongue and rolled over onto his back.

  “What’s the matter? Don’t you like it?”

  “Of course I like it. I love it. But you’re getting me so close so fast. I want this to last. I want to taste you, too.”

  “That can be arranged,” Bernhardt said, and quickly began removing and discarding his own clothes.

  Christiano watched as Bernhardt removed each item of clothing. He squirmed with delight as Bernhardt threw his shirt on the floor, revealing a large, muscular chest that was dusted with thick curly patches of hair that snaked down past his navel and got lost in the waistband of his pants. He reached up and pulled Bernhardt’s pants off in one clumsy move, and gasped when Bernhardt’s long, thick cock popped out the top of the pants and swung heavily in front of his face.

  “You’re not wearing any underwear!” Christiano shrieked.

  “No. They are a bit binding. Is that a problem?”