Thief In The Night

A Halloween Story © by The Lavender Quill, 2003

Warning: the following story contains graphic descriptions of male/male sex between consenting adults. If that sort of thing bothers you, or you are a minor, or it is illegal for you to read this type of content under the laws of your area, don’t read any further.

This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual people or events is purely coincidental.

I heard it a split second before I saw it. The sharp scrape of a match being lit. Even as the flame sputtered and flared to life I knew I was in trouble.

My first instinct was to run. I almost did, but I stuffed my panic just long enough to think. What if whoever just lit that match had a gun? I couldn’t outrun a bullet very well now, could I?

“You are not a very good thief, are you?” said a voice from behind me, where I’d heard the match flare.

I bristled at his accusation. Just what qualifies as a good thief? I’ve stolen lots of things. I’ve sold those things for lots of money. I’d never been caught, at least not until just now. I’d never hurt anybody in the process. I’d say that makes me a pretty good thief.

I’ve been in tense situations before. My entire adolescence was tense. My mind immediately began to assess my situation. The voice was male, deep, velvet smooth. He sounded relaxed and confident, and spoke very precisely.

I turned, slowly, not wanting to startle the guy, not wanting to get shot. I kept my hands visible and open, out to my sides. My mind frantically tried to think of a way to talk my way out of this. I had, in fact, broken into the house, and was in the process of looking around for small, valuable, easy to hawk goodies. I’d been sure nobody was home, but apparently I had been wrong.

When I faced him, he turned out to be a black guy sitting calmly in an ancient leather chair. Even in the dim light of my LED headlamp and the wooden match he held, I thought he had a strange appearance. He had long hair. Really long, in fact. It was unkempt, piled on his head, and hanging down, kind of like dreadlocks, but not as thick. In contrast to the mass of wild hair, he was dressed in dark slacks and a white button down shirt, beneath an odd looking robe. A strange way to be dressed for two o’clock in the morning, I thought.

Describing someone as “black” in America is a poor word choice. Anyone with an ounce of negro in their blood, no matter how far back in their heritage, and no matter how diluted it is with other mixes, is nevertheless still identified as black. Black can describe skin tones anywhere from jet black to a plethora of hues of brown to barely off-white. I had laughed when Halle Berry won her Oscar and everyone made a big deal about her being the first black actress to win it. She looked like a pretty white girl with dark hair and a tan. When I say that the man before me was black, however, I mean black. His skin was so dark that even in the warm amber light of the still-burning match, it reflected a cool blue.

I tried to look at his eyes, to see if I could get some kind of read on him. I always expected that most people would freak out if they encountered a burglar in their house. Not this guy. He didn’t look scared of me at all. I couldn’t see his eyes, though, in the dim light, and I couldn’t see if he had a gun or not.

My eyes were drawn to the wooden match, which he held out to his right. He paid no attention to it as it slowly burned, the flame creeping closer to his fingertips. Neither of us moved. I started to cringe, thinking that it must be burning him by now. I was almost tempted to step over and blow it out myself, but then he slowly lowered his hand to small table next to the chair and lit a candle. He raised the match in front of his face, and I got a brief look at his eyes before he blew out the flame.

His eyes were two pools of inky darkness. I thought maybe he was high on something. I’d never seen irises so dilated. Or maybe it was just because he’d been sitting here in the dark.

My LED light chose that moment to dim and die out on me. I thought I’d replaced the batteries before I left home. I’m usually more careful. I pulled it off my head and tapped it a few times. Nope. Dead. Meanwhile, the guy just sat there, not moving a muscle.

I began to think there might be some chance of escape. I was thinking he probably didn’t have a gun. If he did, he’d probably be pointing it at me. I guessed I could make the hallway in three steps. With my tennis shoes I could probably round the corner pretty fast on the old shiny wood floor without slipping. A quick dash would take me to the front door. I could be out the door and gone in no time. I’m no good at long distance running, but I can sprint like a motherfucker.

“Now what?” I asked.

He cocked his head. “What indeed, thief.” His voice was still calm.

He stood, effortlessly, graceful as a cat.

“You have trespassed in to my domain, broken in to my home. I don’t think I can allow that.”

“Are you going to call the cops?”

He laughed then, and when he did, I made my move. I’m not a big guy, and this guy was definitely bigger than me. I always tried not to get in fights, but when I have, I learned to fight nasty. I lashed out with my foot, intending to sweep his legs out from under him. I’d be out the door before he got up. I never connected, though. He managed to slip back just out of range, then flicked his foot out. I was off balance, having missed him, and his foot caught my outstretched leg, spinning me around and toppling me on my ass. I rolled away from him and clambered to my feet. I spun to face him, crouching, and he stood there looking completely relaxed. I leapt in, going for a throat jab. They never expect that. He was faster than I thought he’d be. He slapped my hand aside with one hand, turning me. He smacked me on the back of my head with his other hand and as I tried to turn myself back to face him, he swept my feet out from under me again. Again I rolled away and leapt to my feet.

“I do not think the police will be necessary,” he said, smiling at me. “You are no better fighter than you are a thief.”

“Fuck you!”

“Is that an invitation?”

I feinted to the left then dashed to the right. I made it to the hallway and sprinted for the door. There was just enough light from the street shining through the large leaded glass oval in the center of the door to see by. I couldn’t hear him, but I knew the guy was coming after me. In retrospect, maybe I should have gone for the window in the kitchen that I had used to get in. The door, of course, was locked. I tried to wrench it open, but it had a really old knob and a strangely keyed lock. I couldn’t make out how to get it open. I probably could have figured it out, given time, but I had no time. I glanced over my shoulder and I could see the guy was walking down the hallway toward me. Frantic, I reared back, preparing to smash my fist through the glass. I figured I might cut myself, but this guy was really weirding me out, and I just wanted to get away at any cost.

Just as my fist was about to shatter the glass, the guy snatched it out of the air. He pulled me away from the door and effortlessly shoved me against the wall. Christ, he was strong! He still held me by my forearm, and it felt like my wrist was clamped in a vice.

“No, no,” he said, still calm and smooth as a sand dune. “We’ll have none of that. If you start getting blood all over the place, I might just loose my cool.” He smiled, his face just inches from mine. His perfect white teeth gleamed in the dim light. “Besides, do you have any idea how much it would cost to replace that glass?”

Damn, the guy was exasperating! My heart was racing and adrenalin was screaming through my veins, and this guy hadn’t even broken a sweat. On top of all that, with him standing this close to me, I decided he smelled good. What the fuck was that all about?

He released my wrist and I squirmed, trying to push past him. I’d make for the kitchen window this time, if I could get away again. He cuffed my ear, nearly sending me to the ground with the blow. Then he grabbed my hair and dragged me back along the hall to the candle lit room, his robe flowing behind him.

He pulled me up to face him once we were back in the middle of the room. Before I had a chance to attempt any more escapes he clamped a hand on to my groin, giving me just enough of a squeeze to let me know that I’d be in for some real hurt if I kept struggling. I know when to give up, and I stood perfectly still.

“You have snuck into my home, little thief, and tried to take what is mine.” He was still calm, speaking to me like a child. “I could kill you, cut up your carcass, and feed the pieces to the fish. No one would ever know.” He said this in such a way that I knew he was seriously considering it.

He reached with his free hand and slid the strap of my backpack off one shoulder, then the other. He grabbed it by one handle and pulled it off me, bringing it around to my front. I said nothing. He still had a firm grasp on my nuts.

“What is in this, thief?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Just a few tools, and a couple towels.” He looked at me with a curious expression. “If I find something I like, I wrap it in a towel so it don’t get damaged and don’t make no noise bangin’ into anything else in there.”

“How very prepared of you,” he mocked. “Such a boy scout.”

He pushed me back against the wall. The guy must really work out or something because I could no more resist him that stop a moving truck.

“What is your name, little thief?”

“Xander,” I blurted out. Damn. I should have given him a fake name. Smart move, I chastised myself.

“Xander?” he repeated, his eyebrows knit in thought. Then he brightened. “Ah, yes. Alexander. That is a ridiculous diminutive of a glorious name.”

I had always thought it was better than the alternative, Alex. I thought Xander sounded kind of cool. Not that any of that made any difference at the moment. I shrugged.

“What am I to do with you… Alexander?”

“Um, well, you could just let me go,” I suggested.

He released my nuts and I immediately felt his hand clamp onto my throat, the ball of his thumb pressed up against my jaw.

“I could snap your neck for being an insolent brat.”

Shit. This was getting bad. I was no longer worried about just getting busted. For the first time, I actually began to fear for my life.

“I’m s-sorry,” I stammered, trying not to let any tears start. My stomach twisted in knots.

His demeanor softened fractionally, and I realized that I was beginning to be able to see better as I adjusted to the candle light. His eyes seemed to glow almost. His head cocked again, just slightly.

“When you invade a man’s land, your life is forfeit if you are caught,” he said. “You’re life is mine to do with as I wish.” The way he said that, I got the impression he wanted to eat me for lunch or something.

“What do you want?”

“I cannot simply release you, can I? You would go off and tell all your thieving friends. And what would that do to my reputation? Soon I’d be fending off would-be thieves every night of the week. By rights, I should kill you now and leave your dead body on a pike in the front yard. That would keep thieves away for a while, don’t you think?”

He was playing with me. Deliberately taunting me. If he wanted to, I realized he could easily have killed me by then. It didn’t seem like he intended to, at least not yet, but I knew that he was capable of carrying out his threats.

I should have been peeing my pants by then, but I felt a strange calm come over me. I was helpless, at least for the moment. I accepted it. I took a breath and swallowed, my Adam’s apple dipping and rising across his palm. I stared into his eyes.

He blinked, for the first time, I think. He dipped his face down close to mine till his hair brushed my cheek. His broad nostrils flared slightly as he inhaled. He stood again. His grip on my neck relaxed slightly, and he traced his thumb down the side of my throat, dragging my collar down. His eyes focused on my neck and then back. For a long minute or two we stared into each other’s eyes, and I became lost.

My eyes snapped back in to focus when he spoke again, very softly, just above a whisper.

“A thief on a pike in my front yard would draw unnecessary attention from your police, however. And I don’t really want that any more than you do.” He smiled at me in a way that was not entirely friendly, but not totally malicious either. “Perhaps I will allow you to buy your freedom.”

“What?” I asked stupidly. I was totally confused. His skin and hair made him look like a Rastafarian, but he dressed like a New York socialite and spoke precisely with a slight British accent. He was bigger than me, but not really all that huge, and yet he was incredibly quick and strong. He terrified me, and yet I was calm. To my horror, I was also finding that he repulsed me and simultaneously aroused me.

His free hand grabbed my nuts again, and squeezed just enough to be uncomfortable. I remained frozen against the wall. His other hand slowly released the pressure on my throat. His fingers glided softly down my neck to the collar of my tee shirt. I heard the fabric of the collar tear. He moved his hand, brushing my skin again. Another small tear. Then he grabbed a fistful of my shirtfront and abruptly yanked down, ripping a six inch strip down the center of my shirt.

He spun me around and yanked the tattered remains of my shirt off, then roughly pressed me into the wall with his knee at the base of my spine. I put up what I fully realized was a futile struggle, but I wasn’t willing to capitulate without a fight. I feared the direction we were going with this. He yanked my arms up painfully behind my back and I could feel him breathing on the back of my neck as he tied my hands together at the wrists with the strip of shirt he had torn off my front.

He let go stepped back. As soon as the pressure was released from my back I spun around. He was walking away from me toward the candle. I gave brief thought to charging him, but given my complete lack of success thus far, I bided my time. I struggled with the bonds on my wrists, but he had been thorough. I could not reach the knot, and the fabric firmly bound my wrists without cutting off the circulation.

He took the candle out of the holder and carried it to the far wall, where he used it to light four other candles in a wall mounted candelabra. He placed the first candle into it as well, forming a five candle wedge. With the additional light, I could see on the wall above it a long spear-like thing resting on two sturdy brackets. It had a viscous looking barbed steel point. Jesus Christ, the guy actually had a real pike. He said nothing, but the implied threat was clear.

He turned toward me and slipped off his robe in a fluid movement. He draped it over the back of the chair, and I realized it was heavier and more elaborate than a simple robe. It was a housecoat of some sort, I surmised, even though I’d never actually seen a housecoat before. I stood paralyzed as I watched him slowly remove the rest of his clothes, placing each garment neatly on the chair.

I had originally thought he was older. In the dark I had little to go by. By his dress and demeanor, I had guessed him to be at least my parent’s age. If he weren’t so damned strong, I would have guessed more like my grandparent’s age. Yet naked, and in the better light of the candelabra, he appeared much younger. I saw not a wrinkle on his smooth black skin. Not surprisingly, he was lean, but well muscled. I know from gym classes at school that the stereotype of black guys all being hung like horses is not true, but this guy looked almost as big flaccid as I am erect. I shuddered.

“Come here, Alexander,” he gestured to me with his hand.

“What do you want from me?” I asked angrily, not moving. It was a lame question. It wouldn’t take much to guess what his intent was.

His face clouded over and he strode over to me. At least, it looked like he strode, but it only took a second. He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back. He pulled me to him and his full lips closed over mine. His lips were surprisingly soft as he roughly kissed me. I squirmed, but could not break his grip. His tongue bored past my protesting lips and snaked into my mouth. He kept one hand gripping my hair, controlling my head, and with the other pulled me closer to him, pressing me against his body. As he continued to invade my mouth, I could feel my nipples brushing against his smooth dark skin.

I could feel his cock growing erect against me, and my body responded in kind. In a panic, I struggled with the fabric binding my wrists. His kiss became ever more intense as his erection grew. My resistance weakened as my erection grew. He pulled his lips away briefly.

“Stop fighting, little thief.” And his lips crushed against mine again.

I had been fighting this my entire life, though, and I wasn’t about to stop just because he told me to. I had been attracted to boys for as long as I could remember being attracted to anyone. This was Richmond, Virginia, however, not San Francisco. I had never given in to my desires, nor had I ever voiced them to a soul. I relaxed only slightly and his tongue invaded farther. Christ, the guy had a tongue! And his lips were so full, sealing us in a fierce passionate kiss. My mind was screaming to get away, but my body was responding to the invasion. I willed my erection to go down, but it wasn’t listening. My pelvis rocked my aching groin into the firm muscle of his thigh almost of its own accord. That stimulation sent me over, and my cock exploded, flooding my boxers with my jism.

For a moment I went with it, moaning as the wet warmth of my orgasm soaked into my boxers, leaning against his strong body, even sucking on his upper lip. When the full realization of what I had just done hit me, I was horrified, completely disgusted with myself. I renewed my fight to escape, squirming and trying to pull away. He released me suddenly and, unprepared, I toppled over backwards.

Panting, heart racing, I struggled to my knees and came face to face with his erect cock. I froze. Fuck! The thing was enormous! Alarmed, I looked up. I was loath to admit it, but the guy had a fantastic body, and his smooth black skin gleamed in the candlelight. He smiled that strange smile again and ran his fingers lightly through my short spiky hair. He shifted slightly and his cock moved closer to my face. He rested his hand on the back of my head and I squeezed my eyes shut as the big head of his penis contacted my cheek. Slowly, slowly, he pushed it across my face until I could feel the length of it. I remained frozen, neither resisting nor giving in. I could feel it pulsing against my skin, could smell his intoxicating aroma.

My own cock, which had begun to deflate in my messy shorts, sprang back to life. He moved around, rubbing his huge cock all over my face. I kept my mouth firmly closed, but that just forced me to inhale his masculine scent into my nostrils. Oh, God! He pulled away slightly, and I opened my eyes. Holy shit! His enormous erection was right there, pointing right at me, only millimeters from my lips. I looked up at him.

“No,” I cried. But I did not pull away.

“Your voice says no, but your body tells a different tale,” he said softly. “Why do you hide from your desires, Alexander?”

“Nooo,” I pleaded again.

Then I opened my mouth for him, and he roughly pushed part of his dick into me, forcing my jaws wider apart. I sucked on the head like it was a giant candy, feeling around the crown with my tongue, trying to keep my teeth out of the way. For a moment he held still and just let me suck like that. Then he pulled out. I wet my lips and he plunged it back in again, a little further this time. I had never done this before, but I could tell it would go easier if his cock was slick with my saliva. He slowly plunged in and out until I managed to get about half of him into my mouth, which was about as much as I thought I could take. He used my face like that for some time, until my jaw was beginning to ach. Then he pulled away.

I licked my lips. I could taste his pre-come. It was rich, and a little sweet, but with a slight metallic tang to it. Nothing like mine at all.

“You learn quickly,” he said with an amused smile. I could see that he knew this was my first time.

He stepped over to an ornate love seat with heavy carved wooden feet. He sat down, facing me, his legs spread, his huge black cock sticking straight up with my saliva dripping down the sides. He didn’t say a word, just gestured for me to come to him, as if he were a deity sitting on a throne. I shuffled to him on my knees.

“I hate you,” I said, as I leaned in and took him into my mouth again.

He didn’t touch me at first as I worshipped at his fleshy alter. I bobbed up and down on him, humiliated, trying to take as much of his cock as I could. His long arms were stretched out across the back of the love seat, as if to emphasize that he wasn’t forcing me to do what I was doing.

“Slow down, Alexander,” he said. With his hand he guided me off of his cock and on to his balls. “There is no hurry when we are both enjoying ourselves.”

For all the hair on his head, he had little hair elsewhere. His balls were generous, though not enormous. Even tight against his body the skin of his sack was smooth on my tongue. I lavished them, and my nose was buried in his wiry pubic hair. I simply could not get enough of the taste and scent of him. I worked my way up the sides of his cock from the base, which I had not been able to fit inside my mouth. He continued to guide, though not force, my movements with his hand. Eventually I made it back to the head and plunged it back into my mouth.

He slung one leg over my shoulder, his calf resting on my back and his smooth thigh next to my ear. He did the same with the other leg, forcing me to bend lower, giving a whole new angle to the affair. I discovered that I could fit slightly more of his organ in my mouth that way. On my next down stroke, he suddenly clamped his legs together, trapping my head between his powerful thighs. He rolled his hips and his cock was jammed deep in my mouth, lodging at the back of my throat, choking me. I couldn’t breath. I thought I was going to gag, but he held me in place there until the sensation went away. He released me but left his legs over my shoulders, and I pulled back, gasping. I took a couple of deep breaths and he directed me back on to his massive tool.

“Swallow,” he said, then clamped his legs together again. When he jammed himself into me again, I realized he meant for me to swallow his cock. I thought he was crazy, but I attempted to swallow anyway. As I did, he pushed again and rammed his cock through, sliding that enormous shaft all the way down until my nose was crushed against his hard flat stomach. I panicked and squirmed, trying to get air, trying to get that huge thing out of my throat. As the gagging sensation passed and I started to relax, he relaxed his legs.

“Yesss,” he hissed as I came up for air. “You have potential for real talent.” His self-satisfied grin spread wide on his face. He looked in my eyes as his legs clamped once more around my face. His eyes glowed like fire in the candlelight. He paused, letting me know what was coming, then forced his way in again. I barely had time to swallow and he was all the way down again. I could feel it throbbing deep in my throat as my face was crushed against his stomach. I could feel his balls cinching up against my lower lip.

Without warning, I came again. I didn’t even realize that another orgasm was imminent. Warmth flooded my boxers again, mixing with the now cool dampness of the previous orgasm. I jerked as I pumped again and again into my shorts, and I could feel my movement put him over the edge too.

I thought for sure he would come in my throat, but he pulled out at the last second. He held me by the hair with one hand and stroked himself with the other as come blasted out of his cock. He sprayed it in my hair and all over my face, dripping off my chin.

When his orgasm finally subsided, he let me up off the floor and sat me next to him on the love seat. With his hands he caressed his spunk into my hair like hair gel, and smeared it around on my face as if he was smoothing on makeup. I was too stunned to do anything but sit there passively.

He dried his hands on my pants and stood. He stretched his neck to the side until I heard the vertebrae pop. He stretched to the other side and did it again. I used to have a buddy in high school that used to crack his knuckles, but this creeped me out way worse. I shuddered and got to my feet.

He gave me a shove toward the hallway, and I stumbled in that direction, barely able to keep my feet under me. My mind was spinning. I turned and saw him walking toward me, carrying my pack. When he reached me, he shoved me again, propelling me toward the front door.

When we reached the door, he turned me and pushed my face to the wall. I heard a couple of clicks, and then the door opening on near-silent hinges. From behind, his lips kissed the side of my neck, working along my throat as I felt him untie my wrists.

“It is time for you to go, little thief in the night, before I decide I hunger for more,” he whispered in my ear. Then he spun me around and held my pack in front of my chest. I snatched it from him. “Perhaps you should be more careful whose house you break in to next time, Alexander.”

He laughed a deep laugh, his eyes glinting, and for the first time I saw his fangs.

I screamed and fled in to the night.

* * * * *

It was a little past noon when I woke the next day. The apartment was empty, thank God. My parents were at work. My mother was a cashier at a discount clothing store. Nearly forty years old, and she still barely made over minimum wage. My stepfather, husband number three for her, worked as a painter for a large property management company, painting apartments all week long. He didn’t get paid much more than my mother, but we got a discount on the apartment.

I’d been thinking about moving out for the last year or so since I finished high school. It was really just inertia and laziness that kept me there. My mother and I have never been affectionate, and I had barely bothered to get to know Husband Number Three at all. But while there was little love in the apartment, there was no animosity either. As long as I contributed $300 a month toward the rent, I could stay there, and I had my own room. Nobody cared how late I stayed out. No questions were asked about where my money came from.

I rolled out of bed, my mind repeatedly replaying the nightmarish events of the previous night. I had showered long and hot as soon as I’d gotten home. I still felt dirty and decided to have another shower. I washed my hair over and over again. I normally use a little gel in it to spike it a bit, but couldn’t stomach the thought. It reminded me too much of the guy smearing his come around in it. I brushed my teeth for about the tenth time, but it couldn’t erase the memory of that huge dick in my mouth. Even as disgusted with myself as I was, I still became aroused at the memory.

I scowled and went back to my room to dress. As I pulled on dark cargo pants and a dark tee shirt, I debated what to do with the remnants of my clothes from the previous night, the shredded remains of the shirt, the come-encrusted boxers and pants. The evidence that I had enjoyed what I did disgusted me more than the act itself. Years of resistance and denial were out the window. Not even willing to launder them, I angrily stuffed the whole lot in a plastic bag and took it out to the trash.

I decided I wanted to go out, if for no other reason than to get some air and try to clear my mind. Fangs. The fucking guy had fangs. A vampire? That might explain a few things. Like how he was so dammed strong and fast. And how he had caught me and confronted me, sitting there in the dark. Could this guy be for real? I wanted to talk to somebody about it, but there was no one I could talk to, really. My mom would laugh, and Number Three was out of the question. I hadn’t really stayed in touch with any of my so-called friends after high school, and most of the guys I hang with these days are little more than acquaintances. No one that would take me seriously if I started talking about vampires.

I pulled on some Sketchers and grabbed my backpack. I stopped as soon as I lifted it. Hello? What’s this? There was something in the pack. I opened it and looked inside. There was something wrapped in one of the towels. That shouldn’t be. I’d had no time to actually lift anything before the vampire had caught me. There shouldn’t have been anything but my tools in there. I pulled out the towel-wrapped object, and unwrapped it.

It was a candleholder. I thought back to the night before. The guy had first lit a candle on the small table next to the chair, and later used that candle to light the others in the candelabra. This was the candleholder from the small table next to the chair. It was heavier than I would have guessed. It looked like it was gold plated, or painted to look gold. It was antique looking, and encrusted with jewels, or more likely colored glass. I knew I hadn’t put it in my pack, so he must have done it. When had he had time? I didn’t remember seeing him do it. The other question of course is: why? I had fled in such a panic that I must not have noticed the extra weight on the way home. Or maybe he’d visited my apartment when everyone was asleep. I shuddered. Thinking like that would make me crazy.

I had no answers. The whole incident was just too fucking weird. I shuddered again and stuffed it back in my pack. I threw it over my shoulder and decided to go see Elvis. Two minutes later I was out the door, cruising down the street on my mountain bike.

His real name was Hank, not Elvis, but if you ever met him, you’d know why I called him that. The first time I went in to his pawnshop I about died laughing. Hank was Elvis reborn. He was fifty years old or so, I’d guess. His hair was died jet black and greased back in a huge pompadour, and he had big bushy muttonchop sideburns. He wore rhinestone studded shirts with long collars. His big beer gut hung over his tight blue jeans, which were cinched with a wide black belt with a fist sized oval silver buckle. Pointed cowboy boots finished off the ensemble. Every time I’d seen him, the look was the same. The only thing that changed was the color of the rhinestone shirts. The guy was totally bonkers, but he consistently gave me the best money, and never asked me where I got the stuff I was pawning.

“Hey Hank,” I said when I walked in. I am often tempted to actually call him Elvis, just to see what he does, but I never have. I have never even mentioned his bizarre attire. He obviously takes it seriously, and if I ever said anything, I know I would bust up laughing. It was just too ludicrous.

“Hey Xander,” he said. “What you got for me today?”

Nobody else was around, so I pulled the candleholder out, unwrapped it, and set it on the counter. Elvis examined it carefully for a couple of minutes.

“Looks like a real antique here. Pretty fancy lookin’.” He pondered for a moment, probably for dramatic effect. “I’ll give ya two hundred for it.”

Now with some of the other shops I go to, this would just be the opening bid of a protracted negotiation ritual. Elvis isn’t like that though. He’ll just tell you straight up what he’ll give you for something. If you don’t take it, he just shrugs and tells you to try someplace else.

His offer was a little higher than I expected, and having it in my possession was giving me the creeps. So I took the two hundred dollars and left, thankful to be rid of it.

I rode over to Cheyenne park, an open wooded park with lots of good mountain biking trails. I wanted to have some fun and get my mind off of the previous night. I didn’t stay long, though. I felt like my energy was sapped, and couldn’t really get into riding. Then a guy showed up that I see every now and then. I didn’t know his name, but he was cute, and I didn’t want to think about that right then.

I didn’t feel like going home. I didn’t want to face my mother and stepfather over dinner. They normally don’t pay much attention to me if I’m there in the evening, but I figured they might notice if I was acting all weird.

Like a moth to a flame, I felt myself drawn back to the vampire’s house. The sun had not yet gone down, and vampires couldn’t come out in daylight, right? Assuming the stories aren’t all bullshit. I figured I was safe.

I stopped on the sidewalk in front of it. I’d actually ridden past it dozens of times. It was on an alternate route I used to occasionally take riding to or from school. I had never really paid any attention to it before. It had a high iron fence around the large lot. There was a fair amount of mature landscaping. The house wasn’t completely obscured, but not easily seen from the street. There were no flowers of any kind. The house was old, probably built in the eighteen hundreds. It was stone, which was unusual; brick or wood were more common. It was the largest house in the neighborhood, but not as big as some of the large mansions in the really well-healed part of town. Now that I thought about it, the house was a little out of place, but not so much so as to ever cause me to notice before. It didn’t look haunted, or like something out of a horror movie.

Could he see me? Did he know I was out here?

I stared at the house for a few more minutes, but there was nothing further to be learned here, so I left.

I rode to a coffee shop near the community college and hung out there for a while. But it was doing nothing to get my mind off my problems, and I was feeling tired despite the caffeine. Finally, I rode home.

I fended off my parents, claiming I didn’t feel well, and went to my room. I tried getting on the Internet, but fell asleep in front of my keyboard. I shut the computer down and flopped on my bed, falling asleep again almost immediately, without bothering to get out of my clothes.

I woke the next day, having slept nearly twelve hours, still feeling drained. My body ached. I definitely felt a cold coming on. Great. Just what I needed. I swallowed some cold medications with orange juice, grimaced, and returned to my room. I removed my slept-in clothes and crawled back to bed.

The medications did no good. For the next two days, my body raged with fever. I alternated between shivering and sweating. I had strange lurid dreams. I would wake up, remembering just wisps of them, mostly involving him. The vampire. Once I woke up drenched not only in sweat, but in my own come. I’d had a nocturnal emission, despite my fever.

My mother actually started to get worried by the third day, concerned it might be something more than a cold. She insisted that if I still had a fever when she got home from work, she would take me to the urgent care clinic. But the fever broke mid morning, and by mid afternoon I felt strangely fine. It was like I hadn’t been sick at all. No lingering sniffles or coughing or anything.

I had a shower and went out. I was full of energy, having spent almost the entire previous three days in bed. But my dreams haunted me and I didn’t want to be around my parents when they got home that evening. I had enough money for the moment, but I hadn’t been out in several nights, and I was going to have to start thinking of scoring again soon.

I grabbed a burger and biked to a discount clothing store where my mother had always bought clothes for me. I still shopped there sometimes, now that I was buying my own stuff. There was a guy about my own age that worked there that I remember seeing sometimes. Martin, I think his name was. He was noticeably effeminate, and I had always assumed he was gay. I normally avoided him. This time I flirted with him when I found him. I smiled and made eye contact much longer than anyone would consider normal. He smiled back at me. I asked for his advice about some shirts that I really didn’t care about at all. I brushed his hand as held one up. I let him touch my shoulders as he draped one over my front. We stood close, brushing elbows as we considered options.

I never explicitly said I was gay, nor did Martin. After spending an inordinate amount of time looking at nearly every shirt in the store with him, I finally picked one out, not so much because I wanted it, but because I almost felt like it would be rude to monopolize his time for so long and not buy anything. I picked one he seemed to particularly like on me.

“I get off at nine when we close,” he said. “We could meet for coffee, or something. Um, if you’d like.”

This was as closed to asking for a date that he could get away with, given the circumstances.

“Maybe,” I said. “I’m supposed to call a buddy about a movie later.” This was a total lie, but I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to pursue this. Martin gave me a brittle smile. I felt guilty for leading him on when I really didn’t intend to do anything with him. “I’ll come back if we don’t go. Or maybe another time. Thanks, uh, for the shirt.”

I stuffed the shirt into my pack and rode around on my bike, thinking. I had a date if I wanted it. I wondered what it would be like to actually date a guy. I tried to imagine kissing Martin, and felt nothing. I realized that although I didn’t really have a good idea what my type was, Martin wasn’t it. There was no real spark there, and he didn’t turn me on at all.

The vampire hadn’t exactly raped me, but our encounter had been rough, manipulative, and cruel. Yet the thought of it still aroused me, days later. I tried to imagine doing those things with Martin, and I almost laughed. There was just something about the vampire’s calm, confident demeanor, the way he effortlessly controlled and dominated me. I shuddered with the realization that I liked that.

I rode over to the stone house again. I sat on my bike, propping myself up on one foot, gazing through the iron fence. It was getting dark, but there were no lights on. I wondered if he was even home. There had been no lights on the night I broke in, so that was no real indication of whether he was home or not. I must be crazy, I thought. I was probably lucky to get away last time. I should never come within a mile of this place again. I willed my erection to go away, and rode off.

I scoped out a neighborhood I hadn’t hit in a while, checking out which houses seemed most vulnerable and most likely to have small, valuable, easily hawked contents. I narrowed my choices down to three.

I went back the next night. There were lights on at one place, and I could see shadows through the drapes, so there really was someone home. I hit the second one. I used a small pry bar to force a window, and there was no alarm, nor anyone home. I was as nervous as I was on my first couple of burglaries. I guess my experience of getting caught had spooked me. Nevertheless, it was an uneventful burglary, and I found some expensive looking jewelry plus over $150 cash in a sock drawer. I could have gotten greedy and hit the third house too, but I rarely do that unless I’m hard up. Too risky. Better to just hit one house, get away clean, hawk the stuff as soon as possible so there is no evidence at home; that’s the smart way to do it.

I rode past the stone house on my way home. Again, no lights, but I knew that didn’t mean anything. I wondered if the vampire was home or out sucking someone’s blood or something. I wondered if he had seen me or followed me since that night. I didn’t doubt that he could if he wanted to. Or maybe he had forgotten all about me.

I wished I could forget about him, but I couldn’t. I tried to tell myself I was better off staying away, but I kept going past the stone house every few days. I tried going during the day, which I thought was safer than after dark, but not always.

Normally I break in to houses late at night, or more accurately, very early in the morning. If nobody is home, they are probably on vacation, and the risk of getting caught is pretty low. I have plenty of time to search for valuables, and there aren’t many people out around on the streets to see me.

But when I decided to break in to the stone house again late in September, I decided to go during the afternoon. I don’t know if the stories about vampires not being able to stand sunlight were true or not, but it seemed logical to think there must be something to it, and decided I would be safer during the daylight hours. I tried to pry open the kitchen window I’d used before, and ended up breaking the glass. I looked around, but the back yard was quite private, and I hadn’t made much noise, so I carefully crawled in anyway.

The kitchen was strange. There was no food in it. There was a minimum assortment of dusty dishes. But the cupboards and refrigerator were mostly bare. I had begun to doubt my memory, had begun to think that the fangs were a figment of my imagination or a trick of the dim light. Was the guy really a vampire? Exploring the kitchen convinced me that he was. Or at least that there was something very not-human about him.

I felt drawn to the room where he caught me. It was less daunting in the daylight, but just as frightening. There was the vicious looking pike on the wall, and an assortment of other ancient weapons as well. They did not seem to be an affectation; I had little doubt that he had used them in the past. I took down a sword that I thought looked pretty cool. I swung it back and forth a few times in a cutting ark. I thrust a stabbing thrust. Cool. The other walls of the room were lined with shelves of books, some newer, some obviously very old, the spines cracking and unreadable. Most were in English, but many of the titles looked German to me, and some French too.

Taking the sword, I explored around the house. The dining room had an elegant table, but looked unused. The living room looked very formal. There was a wide stairway leading to the second floor. The bathroom was like something out of an opulent museum. There was an elaborately glazed porcelain toilet with a matching tank mounted high on the wall and a pull chain. There was an enormous worn marble bath. Seeing it made me think of the vampire. What would he look like naked in that bath? My heart raced at the thought. I quickly left and wandered through the bedrooms. One had a large heavy four-poster bed of walnut. I set the sword aside and sat on the edge. My mind was spinning with thoughts of the vampire. I rolled onto the bed to the center, face down. I pulled the comforter back and buried my nose in the pillow. Yes. This was his room. I guess he was out. His scent lingered on the pillow, and memories flooded my mind. I humped the mattress for a moment. Then, feeling both horny and ridiculous, I rolled back off the bed. I took the sword and went back down the stairs.

It was getting late, and I thought of leaving, but I found stairs to the basement and decided to take a quick look. The first thing I encountered was a well-stocked wine cellar. It was cool and dry, and there were racks of wine. I know nothing of wine, but I guessed that anyone that went to this effort probably did.

The next room really shocked me. The rest of the house reminded me of a museum, all dark wood floors and Victorian colors. This, however, was my dream room, bright and modern and cream colored. On one wall was the biggest plasma television I’d ever seen. There was a modern entertainment system to one side, and a variety of speakers were mounted to the walls around the room. There was a large black leather couch, and some comfortable chairs. The other half of the basement was dominated by an old pool table. There was a computer alcove beyond that, with a fairly new system and a large flat panel monitor.

For a few minutes I stood in wonder. It seemed so completely different from the rest of the house. Then I plopped myself down on the couch. I found the remote control and flipped on the television. I’d never actually watched one of these plasma jobs before. It was cool, like having your own movie theater. I got up a turned off the lights, and then sat back down. I started flipping through channels. The guy had everything; he must have some sort of satellite system. I wondered what he watched. I lost myself exploring the hundreds of channels.

That was a stupid thing to do.

I was totally unaware he was in the room until the lights came on. Shit! I was caught again! You may wonder how stupid I could be, and perhaps you could argue that subconsciously I wanted to be caught again. Maybe you’d be right. That didn’t stop the panic that washed over me at that moment.

I stabbed my finger at the remote, killing the television, and leapt to my feet, blinking in the bright light.

“Ah, the thief in the night has returned,” he said, standing next to the switch with his hands calmly behind his back.

I snatched up the sword and pointed it at him. I wasn’t going to be taken so easily this time. He walked slowly toward me, his hands still behind his back. His eyes, this time, were hidden behind dark sunglasses. He smiled as he approached.

“A thief and a swordsman?” he said, mocking me.

I slashed the sword in a diagonal arc, warning him away. He didn’t even flinch.

“Do you have any idea how many years it has been since I faced a real swordsman, Alexander?”

In answer, I swung at him again. Not in warning as before, this time I meant to connect. It should have been no surprise that he was much too fast for me. He stepped in and grabbed my wrist, the blade arcing uselessly behind him. He was inches from me, and I would have to step back to be able to do anything with the sword. He clamped his free hand to my throat and began to squeeze the other on my wrist. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to scream.

“Ah!” I cried out when the pain in my wrist became too intense. I dropped the sword with a muted thunk on the carpet.

He flung me at the couch like I was a doll, and I landed hard, nearly tipping it over, and knocking the wind out of myself. By the time I’d recovered and stood up, he had the sword. The tip was an inch from my nose, and he held it steady as a rock in his left hand. He held his right hand behind his back.

“Do you know the trouble with America and your gun culture?” he asked. “Nobody knows how to use a sword anymore. Anyone can point a gun and pull a trigger.” He waved the tip back and forth a few inches in front of my face. “But a truly skilled swordsman is an artist.” He lowered the sword to my sternum. “Sadly, you are no artist.”

He nodded toward my pack on the floor next to the couch. “I see you have made yourself at home. Why did you return, Alexander?”

“Are, are you a vampire?” I blurted out.

He smiled a broad smile, displaying his icy white teeth. His flat teeth. His canines were no more prominent than my own. I was confused then. I could swear I’d seen fangs before. And now that I sort of knew what I was looking for, there had been ample evidence that he was no ordinary human. He was obviously much older than he looked, possibly even hundreds of years old.

He lowed the sword and lifted the bottom of my shirt with the point.

“Off,” he commanded.

Last time he’d ripped my shirt off, and without he benefit of a sword. Seeing no alternative, I took it off as he demanded, and dropped it on the floor. I looked at him, shaking with both fear and desire.

He lowered the sword to my crotch. “Off,” he commanded again. I kicked off my shoes, and then unfastened my black jeans and dropped them to my ankles. Embarrassingly my boxers were tented out. “Off,” he whispered, smirking, flicking the sword point in front of the elastic of my boxers.

Humiliated, I shucked them off, and snagged my socks off too. He slowly walked counterclockwise in a wide circle around me, sword always pointed at me, examining me like a lab specimen. I blinked back tears of frustration and shame.

He walked over and dimmed the lights. He set his sunglasses and the sword on top of the entertainment system, and then methodically as he had the last time, he removed his clothes and folded them neatly in a chair. As before, I stood frozen where I stood, my ridiculous erection at attention.

He came back over to me and stood in front of me. I closed my eyes and inhaled his fragrance. My cock throbbed. He grasped a handful of hair at the back of my neck and pulled me to him, his big full lips sealing mine in a rough kiss. As powerless as ever to resist him, I leaned in and parted my lips to his invading tongue. I wasn’t tied up this time, and I circled my hands around him. I felt his broad back and pulled myself tightly to his chest, giving myself over to my lust.

I felt his cock growing thicker and longer, rising up against my smooth stomach. I moaned. His kiss grew fiercer and his free hand grasped one of the globes of my ass, squeezing almost painfully. Then his fingers moved in deeper, sliding into the crack of my ass. I could guess where he was going, and I tried to pull away in fear. My efforts were wasted.

“Mmmph!” I cried, trying to break off the kiss, utterly without effect. His center finger contacted my clenched ass hole and paused, feeling it roughly, taunting me, letting my fear of what was coming build. Then he jammed it home, sinking it completely into me, nearly lifting me off my feet. I came then, my cock spurting again and again as I pounded his flanks uselessly with my fists.

As my orgasm subsided, he broke the kiss. I gasped for air. I let my arms hang uselessly to my sides and closed my eyes. His finger was still buried in my ass. I felt his incredible tongue trace wetly down my neck, and I shivered.

“Your desires betray you,” he whispered in my ear. “They lead you to seek a dangerous path.”

He withdrew his finger, and I sighed. With his other hand, still laced in my hair, he forced me to my knees. He made me lick my own come off his stomach and pubes and engorged penis. When I had finished, he pulled me to my feet and dragged me over to the pool table. Then he bodily hauled me on to it on my back. He stretched my arms out high until my hands were hanging over two corner pockets, then places a pool ball in each hand.

“Don’t move, Alexander,” he said, and walked off. I was too chicken to disobey him. He returned a moment later with the sword. He stood to the side of the table and slowly lowered the blade until it was resting across my neck. “Move but a little, and your life’s blood will be all over this basement.”

I could only stare at the ceiling, trying not to move my head as I felt his tongue trail down my body, circle past my cock, which had not deflated at all, and wrap around my balls. After lightly bathing my testicles, his tongue slowly slid up the underside of my cock. Then just as slowly, he took it into his mouth. With obvious practiced skill, he took me to the root in one smooth motion, while still holding the sword to my neck. His other hand pried my legs open, and he jammed his finger into my ass again.

My breath was coming in quick shallow gasps as I tried to get enough air without moving my head or neck too much. His tongue began to snake around my cock inside his mouth as he increased the suction, at the same time as his finger began to massage me from the inside. All my erotic senses went on overload. I gripped the pool balls for dear life, my arms almost vibrating as I desperately tried to remain still.

“Annggg!” I cried, and started to come. He never stopped with his fingers and tongue as I spurted over and over into his mouth until he had expertly drained me. Then in one swift motion he removed his finger, his mouth, and the sword. I gasped and reached for my throat, dropping one of the pool balls. I almost blacked out from relief and the orgasmic release.

I turned to him, and he stood to the side of the table. He stood, poised, with the sword behind his back, point up. He ran his tongue lightly across his lips as if savoring a tasty morsel. His eyes smoldered in the dim light. He stood like a statue for a minute or two as my breathing caught up and I tried to stop shaking. I had come twice in less than ten minutes. Then, like a striking cobra, he snatched me off the pool table and flung me to the floor.

He set the sword on the table and was on me in a second. He pulled me to my knees and grasped the sides of my head, forcing my jaw open. He plunged his enormous cock in. I coughed and gagged, but he just held me still until the sensation passed. Then he started fucking my face. He pistoned in and out for a few minutes, pleasing himself as he liked, since I had not the skills he has with his tongue. When he was thoroughly soaked with saliva, he plunged in deeper, lodging in my throat as he had done before. I grabbed his thighs, trying to hold him off, but it was like trying to push away a truck. The muscles in his legs were like steel.

He forced my head back and I remembered to swallow as he jammed himself all the way down. I could taste the metallic tang of his pre-come. He withdrew, gave me a few shallow thrusts, then plunged deep again, forcing me to swallow all of him. He repeated this several times until I stopped pushing at his legs and let him have me. I actually attempted to try to use my tongue on him as he had done me, but I couldn’t concentrate. It was all I could do to keep from choking on him.

As he had done last time, he pulled out of my mouth at the last second. He held my head in a vice-like grip as come arced out of his throbbing cock, landing in ropes on my chest. I watched in awe. He was terrifying and magnificent.

When his orgasm stopped, he pushed me flat on my back on the carpet. He straddled me and rubbed his come all over my chest and face like it was some kind of lotion. It seemed at once both a loving and humiliating gesture.

“Yes,” he said softly, looking in my eyes.

I blinked, not comprehending what he was talking about.

“Yes, what?” I said.

He leaned over close to me. “You asked if I was a vampire.”

He pulled back his lips to reveal two glistening fangs. No mistaking it this time. They hadn’t been there earlier, so he must somehow be able to retract them. Perhaps they only came out when he was aroused or terrifying someone or getting ready to kill someone. Maybe it was all the same thing to him.

“Are you going to kill me now?” I asked with a calm that surprising me.

He smiled at me. “Why should I do that, Alexander? You are just beginning to get better at this.”

He straightened and walked over to the pool table. I watched the smooth powerful muscles of his legs and ass flex gracefully as he walked. He picked up the sword and turned to me.

“Get up,” he said.

I scrambled to my feet, terrified of what he would do next. He walked up to me, and without breaking stride, grabbed me by the hair as he stepped past me. He dragged me with him as he headed for the stairs. He flicked off the lights as we passed the switch, plunging the basement into total darkness. I stumbled and would have fallen had he not been holding me up by my hair.

“Ow!” I cried, regaining my footing.

The darkness didn’t seem to slow him down at all. I tripped and fumbled as he dragged me up the stairs. I tried to stay with him to keep him from yanking on my hair too painfully.

I was able to see a little bit when we reached the kitchen. A little light filtered in from the moonlight and the streetlights. He released me and lit a candle, and from that candle, lit several more around the kitchen. I looked at the light switch.

“Why not use the lights?” I asked.

“Old habit, I guess.” He gestured around at the candles. “Besides, I just like it better. Modern electric lights are so harsh, don’t you think?”

He did look fiercely beautiful, standing naked in the candle’s glow.

“How old are you?” I asked.

“I was born in 1452.”

“Holy shit!”

He pointed the sword at the window I’d broken to get in.

“You were careless this time, thief.” He pointed to a closet. “There is a broom and trash bag in there. Clean up the broken glass. Tomorrow you will replace the pane of glass. You will do it yourself, not hire someone to fix it for you. If I wake up at sunset tomorrow and find it not fixed, you will be sorry.”

He turned and left the room. I stared after him in mild disbelief. Then I turned to the closet. I carefully cleaned up the glass. I was about to close the closet when I had a thought. I took a cleaning rag and picked up a shard of glass that was long and pointed. I wrapped the rag around and around one end, creating a padded handle. I didn’t really have a plan for what I might do with my makeshift knife, so I set it in the sink where it was hopefully out of sight.

“Ah, you are done,” I heard him say behind me.

I spun around. He was dressed in the long house coat that I had seen him wearing the first time, though now he wore nothing else beneath it. The sword was gone, and he held my pack in his hand. It was stuffed with my clothes. I glanced to my left where the stairs were. I had not heard him, but he must have gone past me to go downstairs to get my stuff. I hoped he had not seen me wrapping my glass blade.

He stepped up in front of me and set my pack on the counter. He sidled in closer until our groins met, pinning me to the counter. I sucked in a breath at the contact, and felt myself getting aroused yet again, which he could not fail to notice.

“You are an eager one, aren’t you?” he said, giving me an enigmatic smile.

He grasped the back of my head and kissed me roughly. He pulled my head back and started to kiss down my neck, which both frightened and aroused me. He pulled away and spun me around. He kicked my legs apart and pinned me to the counter again, with his cock nestled between my ass cheeks.

“Do you know the nature of your desires?” he whispered in my ear. His tongue flicked out, gently probing my ear. I shuddered at the intimacy. His hands moved around my body and his fingers caressed my nipples. I could feel his cock growing. “It is not simply that you fancy men.” He kissed the side of my neck. “That you are a homosexual.” Suddenly his fingers pinched down hard on my nipples and I gasped. “You’re desires are more complex.” His fingers twisted my nipples and I undulated back against his rising cock, feeling it rub against my opening. Sweat began to trickle down my neck, and he licked it. “Do you even know why you came back to me tonight?”

“You made me somehow,” I hissed past the pain. I was sure of it. He had some sort of control over me.

“Not at all, Alexander.” He released my nipples as suddenly as he’d grasped them, and he massaged the tender skin. I shuddered. “Your body knows what it wants, but your mind tries to deny it.” He shifted, repositioning his now-erect cock at my anus. “Are you ready to put an end to your denial?”

I knew it would come to this, of course. I would have to be a fool to think otherwise. I tried to imagine him fucking me. I didn’t think I could take it. He was too big and too rough.

“Are you ready to give yourself over to me?” he growled into my ear.

Finally my fear overcame my desire. “No!” I begged. “No,” I repeated, more softly. I knew I could not stop him, but I wasn’t going to simply consent.

I was surprised when he stepped away. I nearly slipped to the floor. I turned and he stood there, his enormous erection in contrast with his otherwise composed demeanor.

“Then it is time for you to leave.”

He turned and walked toward the front door. I grabbed my pack off the counter, and at the last moment snatched up the glass knife. I carried the pack in front of me, and hid the blade between it and my naked body. As I followed him along the hall, I grew more and more angry with the way he toyed with me, the way he used me like a plaything and fucked with my mind.

He opened the door and faced me holding a key.

“So that you will not need to resort to damaging my home to get in,” he said with a mocking smile. “Do not come here next week.”

“Why?” I asked, my anger and defiance growing.

“What is next Thursday?”

I thought for a few seconds. “I don’t know. What?”

“Do you pay attention to nothing that is not a video game, child?” he asked sarcastically, still holding out the key.

“Bastard,” I said.

I was sick of his mocking me. He grinned. I pulled back slightly and plunged with my blade. I must have surprised him because it actually sank a couple of inches into his chest before his hand grabbed my wrist. I heard the key bounce onto the wood floor. He barely flinched. His grip tightened on my wrist till I thought he would break it, and I released the blade. Then, very slowly, he pushed me away. With his other hand, he gripped my makeshift knife almost daintily between his thumb and forefinger and carefully withdrew it from his chest. We glared at each other the whole time.

“Fool,” he said.

He pinned me into the corner next to the door and held my arm in a vice-like grip. Then he brought the glass shard up and, like a lover deflowering a virgin, slowly pierced the flesh of my shoulder, just above the bicep, and jammed it deep into the muscle. I ground my teeth, trying not to scream as tears streamed down my face. He held it there for a moment until he could see me regaining some control over my composure.

“Does it hurt?” he asked innocently.

“Fuck you.”

Then he jerked his hand, breaking the glass, leaving a splinter buried in my upper arm. He smiled as I whimpered, and I could see his fangs again. Even more repulsive than the pain he had inflicted was the fact that both of us were still completely erect.

Then he leaned close and sniffed. He looked up at me, his eyes blazed fire. His tongue flicked out and he slowly licked the trail of blood that dribbled down my arm. He closed his eyes and I could hear a low, barely audible growl escape his mouth. It was a raw animal sound. He opened his eyes again. I wanted to turn away, but horribly fascinated, I held his flaming gaze. This was the first time I’d seen him not completely in control of his every movement and action. He withdrew his tongue, gritted his teeth, and partly turned his head, maintaining our staredown. His grip was bruising my arm and getting tighter. He hissed softly, and finally blinked. His grip relaxed slightly as he regained his absolute self-control.

“I am not all that hungry,” he said. “But if you are not out of my sight in thirty seconds, Alexander, I might be tempted to have a little snack.”

He threw me out, sprawling onto the front porch like I was a doll. I did scream then as I rolled over on my arm trying to get up, grinding the glass shard into my flesh. He threw my pack at me, nearly knocking me over again. I grabbed it and fled, even faster than I had the last time.

* * * * *

I woke the next morning with my arm throbbing in pain. I barely remembered my flight from the stone house. The naked ride on my bike. I vividly remembered the agonizing half hour in the bathroom as I excised the inch-long sliver of glass from my arm with a pair of tweezers. I had nearly bitten through a towel I had in my mouth trying to keep from crying out and waking my parents.

I was sore and tired, but I replaced the broken window, fearing his reprisal if I didn’t. It wasn’t the best job, but it would do. I finished it and was well away by dinnertime, not wanting to be anywhere near the vampire’s house after dark.

The following two days I was laid low in bed with a raging fever. Even in my delirious state, I knew it could not possibly be coincidence to have a fever again the second day after my encounter with the vampire, exactly as I had the first time. I was hardly surprised at all when the fever broke after two days, and I felt perfectly fine again. My mother practically insisted I see a doctor after two bouts of fever so close together, but there was no way I was going to let a doctor examine me.

I could barely move my arm, but managed to keep my mother from finding out, mostly by being scarce whenever she was around. The wound was deep, but not long. I kept disinfectant on it and kept it bandaged. It was high enough on my arm that any short-sleeved shirt covered it.

It wasn’t too difficult to figure out why I should avoid the vampire’s house the next week. I looked on the calendar hanging on the refrigerator, thinking maybe there was a holiday on Thursday that I had forgotten about. There wasn’t a holiday, but the calendar displayed a symbol for a full moon on that day.

I wasn’t sure exactly what would happen on a full moon, but I decided it was probably healthier for me not to find out first hand. So when Thursday rolled around, I decided to go to a movie that started around sunset. I picked a theater well away from the stone house. I felt safe in a crowd of people. I still didn’t feel like going home when the movie ended, so I biked to a coffee shop that was a popular hang out and was open late. I ordered and sat at a small table, gazing around aimlessly.

“Are you enjoying your coffee, Alexander?”

I snapped my head back, and there sat the vampire.

“Jesus!” If I’d had coffee in my mouth I surely would have choked or spat it all over.

He wore dark wrap-around sunglasses, either because the brighter lights hurt his eyes, or to hide his eyes. Maybe both. As always, he looked totally calm.

“What are you doing?” I hissed. “You said to stay away today.”

“How much did you get for the candle holder?” he asked conversationally, ignoring my question.

“I… uh, two hundred bucks.” I looked at him curiously. “Why?”

“You could rise above being a petty thief if you knew more about the worth of that which you steal.”

I glared at him.

“That candle holder was worth at least a hundred fold more than that,” he said.

“Why did you give it to me then?” I couldn’t imagine why he would give me something so valuable.

“To see what you would do with it, of course. I have been watching you. You are not completely without merit. You have not been caught, except by me of course. You are careful, and you do not get too greedy. That will likely keep you out of the hands of the police. But the actual act of stealing is only a small part of being a truly good thief. Careful investigation of your quarry would lead to greater reward. And knowing how to properly dispose of your bounty would bring you greater wealth.”

“Are you telling me you’d teach me this?”

“I am merely stating fact. I have offered to teach you nothing, and you have not asked. You have instead stabbed me with a piece of glass. Which reminds me, how is your arm?”

“I’ll live,” I said, rubbing it reflexively. It was still sore, but it was healing. It didn’t bother me too much if I didn’t move it a lot. “I did what you asked. I fixed your window. I figured out it was a full moon, and I stayed away. Why are you here?”

“I’m hungry,” he said, and he grinned, just barely revealing his fangs.

My heart started to pound in fear, and I slid my chair back.

“Don’t worry. If I wanted you, do you think I would have told you to stay away?” He gazed around the room with a thoughtful expression. “I thought perhaps you might help me choose.”

“Are you out of your mind!” I hissed. “I’m not going to help you kill someone.”

“Oh come now. Don’t be so squeamish. Do not tell me you actually care at all about any of these people.”


“You cannot lie to me. I know more about your secret desires than you yourself do. You know very well that they would be revolted by you. Not one of them would come to your defense.”

I wanted to refute him, but I said nothing. I like to think I care about people in a general sense, but what he said resonated with me more than I wanted to admit. “What difference does it make?” I finally asked, wanting to get away from my own dark thoughts.

“Indeed. What did you have for supper this evening?”

“I ate at a little Thai place before the movie.”


“Because I like Thai food.”


I looked at him. “Are you saying some… blood tastes better than others?”

“Of course.”

I looked around the coffee shop, morbidly curious now. I picked a guy at random. He looked like a white-collar wage slave. “Him,” I said, nodding.

“Too old,” he said. “Stale.”

“Her,” I said, nodding at a younger woman. She looked half whacked on something; crack maybe, or crystal meth.

“I think not. Whatever is coursing through her veins will not enhance the flavor.”

“Her,” I said, picking what appeared to be a clean cut high schooler, not surprised he’d reject the crack head.

“Possibly. But almost too easy. There are better choices, I think.”

“There is more than just flavor then?”

“Of course. There is the whole experience to consider. This will have to satisfy me until the next full moon.”

“Him then,” I said, indicating a table with two guys about my age, one Hispanic wearing a backwards baseball cap, the other Caucasian. I was guessing the vampire maybe liked guys more than girls.

“Ah, you are beginning to get the knack of this,” he said. “Which one?”

“The one with the cap,” I said. He looked tougher, and the vampire didn’t seem to want it too easy.

“No. A good guess, though, given your limitations.” He swept his hair back over his shoulders. “The other is a virgin. Untainted. Pathologically heterosexual. He will fight.” The vampire wore an almost gleeful expression.

I found myself strangely aroused at the thought of it. “How can you tell?”

“I can smell it. His eyes hide nothing. I can read it in his movements. Just like I can perceive your desires, Alexander, and know that you, also, are a virgin.”

“I…” I halted, mid denial. There seemed no point. I looked away, embarrassed. Then I grew angry. He seemed to enjoy humiliating me, embarrassing me, shaming me. I turned back, ready to deliver an angry retort, but he was gone.

I looked around quickly, but didn’t see him. How could he appear and disappear so easily? I downed my coffee and left. I didn’t want to see what was going to happen to the hapless guy that I had unwittingly helped the vampire select.

For the next three days I carefully read the newspapers, watched the television news, and scanned the Internet, looking for any reports of murder. There were a few, of course; there always is, but none of the victims were guys my age that seemed like they could be the work of the vampire. Either he did not actually kill the guy, or he had covered it up well enough that he wouldn’t be discovered.

I considered leaving town. Just getting on a bus and heading for California or something. Anywhere as far away from home as I could get. But as strong as the urge to flee this nightmare was, the curiosity and the desire to learn more about the creature who so captivated me was stronger.

I went back to Elvis to buy back the gold candleholder. I made up an excuse for needing it back. He understood, but still made me pay him $400 for it. The pawnshop was a business not a charity, he said. I didn’t argue with him, knowing that it was worth so much more.

A week later, I took the candleholder with me to the stone house. He seemed impressed that I had gone to the effort to get it back. We developed an uneasy truce and he showed me how to determine if an object was made gold or not, and how to tell if a gem was real or fake.

There was a price to pay for this new knowledge. He was even rougher than before, forcing me back over the armrest of a sofa, cramming his cock down my throat as he pinched mercilessly on my nipples. I came before he did. I begged him to come in my mouth, but he would not. Then I felt humiliated for begging.

I wasn’t the least surprised when I spent another two days delirious with fever. I didn’t know specifically what caused it, but I knew it was related to the vampire. I didn’t care.

I sold the candleholder again, this time to a collector. I talked him up to $28,000. I could have gotten more if I hadn’t insisted on cash. He knew it was hot, but didn’t care. This gave me plenty of money to flee, but by then escape was no longer a consideration.

I kept going back to the stone house. Each time the sex was fierce and brutal, and more erotic than anything I had ever imagined. By my fourth go round with the fever afterward, it only lasted a little over a day. I guessed that something in his saliva or pre-come was causing it; maybe that was why he never came in my mouth. Whatever it was, my body was getting used to it. I became adept at hiding it from my mother, or I’m sure she would have freaked.

“What would happen if I came here during a full moon?” I asked, five days before the end of October.

“What do you think?”

“Would you feed on me?”

“Oh, yes.” He gave me a ferocious smile. “I would take you in many ways. It would be a feeding unlike any that I have had in fifty years.”

I shuddered, both with fear and lust. “Would you kill me?”

“Perhaps,” he said, matter-of-factly. “There is some chance that you would survive it, some chance I would not break your neck in my need. Already your body is building some resistance. You could survive the change.”

“The change?”

“You would get very ill, and might die. If you did not die you would become like me.”

“Black?” I joked.

“What you ask is no joke, Alexander.”

“Maybe your life is a joke,” I retorted, which started our next fight, which lead to me blowing him.

“Do not come back next week unless you are sure,” he said when he was done with me. “There will be no second chance. Your life will end, or you will be utterly changed forever. Either way, you will never see sunlight again.”

I thought about nothing else in the days leading up to the full moon. My mother was clueless as ever, and Husband Number Three was irrelevant to my life. A few friends invited me to Halloween parties where much beer was to be consumed. I gave noncommittal maybes in answer.

On All Hallows Eve, I sold my bike to Elvis. It was more symbolic than anything else. Who knows, maybe after the night was over, I’d still want a bike. With what I made from the candleholder, and what I figured I might take in the future, I could easily buy a new one later if I wanted.

I looked around me while I rode the bus to the stone house. Already the other passengers seemed like cattle to me. Maybe they always had. Admittedly, my relationship with the vampire was strange. But compared to that, the rest of my life was empty, a shell supported by vapor.

I walked the last four blocks, careful not to be seen. I arrived well before sundown and let myself in. I wandered around the house. I still had never figured out where he hid out during the day. If he’d been around as long as he had, I expected it was well hidden. I settled on the bedroom. He obviously didn’t sleep there, but did he use the bed for anything else? I decided I would find out. I stripped out of my clothes, and folded them neatly, like he always did. As the sun started to go down, I found some matches and lit every candle in the room. I locked the door and opened the window outward. It was an unusually warm night for October. I looked out and decided I would probably be able to see the full moon rise above the trees. I hadn’t realized what a large yard he had, how isolated the stone house is. In the distance I could hear the pounding beat of heavy rock music coming from a party at a house nearby.

I did not have to wait long once the sun went down. The door exploded, sending splinters flying into the room. I willed my heart to keep a steady beat as I faced him.

“You could have knocked,” I said.

“I could smell you the moment I woke up,” he practically snarled.

He stared at me with open lust as he quickly cast aside his housecoat. He was better looking than ever. His eyes were already on fire, and his smooth black skin nearly glowed in its perfection. He craned his neck, tossing his hair back. His cock was three-quarters erect and growing.

He all but charged me, fangs glinting in the candlelight. He grabbed me into a kiss fiercer than ever. I could hardly breath. I grew hard almost immediately, sucking on his lush full lip. Giving over to the insanity of this whole thing, I bit down on it, drawing blood.

“Ahrr!” he growled, and threw me off, sprawling on the floor. Then he laughed. “Not yet, greedy thief. Not yet.”

He came at me, looking like a wary predator. He was terrifyingly beautiful. I may not have his power, but I am not entirely without teeth. Pieces of wood from the shattered door littered the room. I grabbed a large splinter. As he approached me, I stood and brandished it.

“If I stab you with this, would you die?” I asked.

“The wooden stake through the heart?” he smirked. I nodded. “Half of what you think you know about vampires is false, Alexander. Yes, I drink blood. I cannot bear the sunlight. The rest…” he shrugged.

I circled him in a crouch, still wielding my piece of wood. I noticed that he had not really answered my question. I had managed to stab him before with the piece of glass, though it had no effect, so I knew it was possible that I could get him again. I lunged.

He sidestepped my attack with almost nonchalant ease. He grabbed my wrist and spun me around. In the blink of an eye he was behind me and I could feel the point of the wooden splinter on my chest. I remembered when he had stabbed me with the piece of glass and I tried to break away from his iron grip. He slowly raised my hand until the splinter was pointed at my own eye. I cried out and forced my hand open enough to drop it.

He laughed. I could feel his erection, pressing up against my ass. He yanked my arm up painfully behind my back and marched me on my tiptoes over to the window. I cringed back into him, briefly fearing that he was going to throw me out. Instead he held me in place and tied my wrists to the curtain stays. These were not delicate decorative stays, but heavy iron, firmly mounted to the wall.

I felt his whole body pressed against my back and his hair brushing the side of my neck. “Look out there, over the trees,” he whispered into my ear. “What do you see?”

“Night,” I said, petulantly. He pinched my nipples. “Ah!” I looked more carefully, and could see the sky slightly lighter there. “The moon? Is the moon going to come up there?”

He released my nipple and licked my neck. “Yes. When the full moon rises fully in sight I will take you. You will give yourself over to me completely, Alexander.”

I thought of the size of his cock. “Will it hurt?” I asked.

“Oh, yes. That I can promise. It will be glorious.”

I shuddered. He pulled away slightly and I could feel him lower himself behind me, slowly raking his fingernails down my back. I continued to shudder the whole time. When he got to my ass, he parted my cheeks. I gasped as his tongue trailed down the crack of my ass. It was unnaturally long and amazingly dexterous. I sighed and arched into him slightly. He licked around my anus, flicking his tongue here and there. I bucked and heaved, responding to the tiny intimate caresses. He drove me to a frenzy.

When I thought I would go mad with lust, he slid his tongue inside me. I twisted in my bonds, trying to push myself back onto him further. He’d jammed his finger in my ass a couple of times before, but this was a completely different experience. His tongue rotated and intruded deeper into my anal passage, sending waves of pleasure through me. As I thrashed helplessly against him, I felt him sink his fangs into the flesh of my buttocks. I felt the twin lances of pain piercing my flesh and gasped aloud. Surprising myself, I came, sending jets of my spunk out the window into the night. I could feel him sucking on the small trail of blood, while at the same time his tongue sank deeper still. I continued to orgasm, my anal ring clenching again and again on his amazing tongue.

When my orgasm subsided, dribbling the last bit of come onto the floor, he withdrew his tongue and licked at the small punctures until the bleeding stopped. I opened my eyes, and could see the full moon starting to crest over the trees. I knew it wouldn’t be long now. I shivered and tried to regain my composure as he rose and walked over to a dresser. He opened a small ornate wooden cabinet above it, took a vial from it and walked back over to me. I watched him uncork it and slowly pour some viscous fluid onto his fingers. This was no modern water-based lubricant. He rudely stuffed two fingers into my ass.

“We can’t have you bleeding in there now, can we?” he asked condescendingly. “That would be a waste.” He massaged the pungent oil into my virgin hole. I glared at him. The arrogant bastard wasn’t concerned about me, only about wasting blood. His fingers slid in and out, and I sighed despite my anger. He pulled his fingers out, added some more oil, and went back in a second time. I twisted my hands, and he smiled at his complete control over me. He stepped over to my side and I watched as he slowly drizzled some of the thick fluid in a line down the top of his huge erection. It glinted in the candlelight as it flowed over the sides.

I shuddered. The moon was nearly free of the trees. The anticipation, knowing the inevitable, was making my heart pound with fear, with anticipation, with wicked desire. As the moon moved ever higher on its slow but unstoppable trek across the sky, he stepped behind me.

“Soon, Alexander.” He breathed. “It is almost time.” His big cockhead nudged between my cheeks seeking my anus. “I find luscious boys every month to feast on. That has a certain satisfaction, a satisfaction that you may soon come to know. But it has been many long years since I have attempted to take a lover.”

He slid his slick engorged cock up and down the crack of my ass, raking its length along my anal lips, humping against my hole. I sighed. He ran his hands down my flanks and back up, then slid them around my chest. He pinched my nipples until I cried out, bucking back against his cock.

“It takes a very unusual person to share himself with me. A person with very uncommon desires.” He twisted my nipples again, to punctuate his remark. I hissed and almost came. “And here you have come to me, placing yourself at my table. I sincerely hope that you survive.” He repositioned himself, plugging his bulbous cockhead against my slick pucker. “Look at the moon, Alexander,” he whispered, his voice barely audible against the pounding base from the party next door. “Are you ready to give yourself over to me completely?”

I said nothing. I trembled, waiting, the anticipation making me half crazy. He slid his hands down to my hips, readying himself for the plunge.

“Beg for it,” he whispered.

“What?” I exclaimed.

“Beg for it,” he said more firmly.

“No!” I wasn’t going to give him that final humiliation. He was practically raping me.

“Yes. Say it.”

I squirmed, his cockhead pressing against me but not in. “Fuck off,” I wailed. “You have me tied up. You can do what you want. I’m not begging.”

“You are nearly fucking yourself onto me. I could let go and not do a thing. You know you want this every bit as much as I do.”

“Fuck you!” I pulled furiously at my bonds.

“Beg for it. Let the world know what you want. Give voice to your desires.”

“No, you sick fuck!”

“The moon awaits, Alexander. Can you feel it?”

What I could feel was his enormous cockhead twisting against my ass hole. I gasped.

“Do you want it, Alexander?”

I gritted my teeth. No, I said to myself resolutely. “Yes,” I whimpered.

“What was that?” His cock pressed fractionally harder on my pucker. “Did you say something?”

“Yes!” I wailed. “Take me, you son-of-a-bitch. Do it.” I pushed myself against him hard, but he still did not breach me. “Hurt me!”

“As you wish.”

Pain lanced through me as he drove himself fully in to me in one long deep thrust. “Ahhh!” I screamed. The oil may have saved me from any damage, but it also prevented me from being able to stop him, no matter how hard I squeezed. It didn’t stop the hurt of being invaded by what felt like a telephone pole. It was incredible. His pelvis was pressed firmly into my ass cheeks and his massive cock was buried completely inside me. He yanked my head back by a handful of hair, and crushed his lips to mine. He pulled out almost completely and plunged back in again, sending a new wave of pain through me. I tried to bite his lips again, but I couldn’t manage it. He released my lips.

Something base and horrifying was taking over my rational thought. “Harder,” I whimpered.

He withdrew and slammed into me, triggering a second orgasm. “Ah! Ah! Ahhh!” I cried, as he thrust in time with my ejaculation. I had no time to recover when I stopped coming. I couldn’t believe I had come twice in such a short time without even touching my dick. Surely this was unnatural.

He increased his pace, his massive cock ripping in and out of me in long powerful thrusts. I felt like my ass was on fire. I whimpered deliriously in rhythm with his plunging cock. If not for my tied wrists and him holding my hips, I’d have collapsed. To my horror, it just aroused me further. My erection never abated.

He stopped suddenly, his cock buried deep, lifting me nearly off the floor. I thought maybe he’d come, but he was just taking the edge off.

“Yesss,” he hissed into my ear. “Do not run from your desires.” He pulled out and slammed back in, forcing a whimper of pain from me. “Embrace them.” He pulled out and impaled me again.

He slowly slid his hands up from my hips to my chest. He circled his fingertips around my nipples. I squirmed, impaled on his rod.

“How sensitive the soft flesh is,” he whispered. “You squirm to the lightest caress.” He brought his fingers and thumbs together. As he slowly pinched harder and harder I struggled more, my ass clenching involuntarily. “You writhe in pleasure at the pain.” I wanted to deny it, but could not. Tears flowed from my eyes.

When I thought I could stand it no more, he sliced into my nipples with his claw-like thumbnails. The pain was magnificent. I cried out, bucking on his cock. Blood trickled down my heaving chest and I came yet again. I was dizzy with pain and lust and power, grinding against him, my come flying in jets.

He started to fuck me again, hard. He smeared trails of blood over my torso as his cock invaded again and again. I thrashed, delirious, not even sure myself if I was struggling to get away or to further heighten the pain. He dragged a bloody finger to his lips and sucked hungrily. Then he shoved his other finger into my mouth and I tasted my own blood.

It was tangy and metallic. In my haze of lust I dimly recognized that metallic essence. I had tasted something similar before. I remembered then. It was in the traces of his precome I had tasted. I suckled on his finger. He slowed suddenly. I could feel his body flinch against my back, and he growled, deep and low. He had to be getting close.

“Oh, Alexander,” he growled, his tongue lashing out at my earlobe. “Tell me you are mine.”

“I am yours,” I gasped grinding back against him, “completely!”

He withdrew and thrust deep. “Beg for me to take you with me.” His razor fangs grazed my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Please, oh please,” I cried openly. “Take me. Take me! I will be yours for all of time!”

He withdrew out of me completely, and I gasped at the sudden emptiness. I wanted to die!

Delicious pain seared through me again, unlike anything I could imagine. His cock breached me anew, and as it slammed home his fangs sank into my neck. Not like the little bite on my buttocks, this bite went deep, tearing down into my jugular, ripping sickeningly into my flesh.

I screamed. Every muscle in my body spasmed. The pain was exquisite. His wrist clamped over my mouth holding me in place. I could feel the blood pumping out of my neck, propelled in a torrent by my crashing heart, could feel him sucking fiercely, not letting a drop escape.

I bit down on his wrist. As I tasted his blood I began to come once more. His body bucked and he sucked harder, and I could feel his hot come flood my insides. I swallowed the blood draining into my mouth and I continued to come.

I cracked open my eyes and gazed at the moon as I came and came and came, our bodies locked together, one orgasm following another until I passed out.

The pain didn’t matter. The blackness didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. I would live with him forever.

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