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Hearts and Bones
You take two bodies and twirl them into one
Their hearts and their bones
And they won’t come undone
- Paul Simon
It was night. Of course, it was always night. It had been night for over 500 years. But out here, so far from the lights and sounds of the city, the night seemed a living thing, thick, cloying. Julien walked silently down the quiet residential street, senses alert, searching.
If anyone were to glance out their window they’d have viewed an apparition… a slender boy on the brink of pubescence, seemingly floating down the middle of the road, so graceful were his movements. No gawkiness here. Julien walked like an old jungle cat, fluid, powerful, completely assured that he and he alone ruled this nightscape. A child alone at such an hour would be strange enough, but that would be the least of the oddities about the sight. To say he was pale would be a classic understatement; his skin was luminous in its whiteness, like the moon made flesh. The long hair, so rich in luxurious curls, was equally pale, a white so light and fine as to defy definition. Dressed in a long-sleeved black silk shirt, tightly cuffed at each slender wrist but left unbuttoned so that the shirt floated behind him like the wings of a bat, one caught occasional glimpses of his softly pink nipples, so frail in his smooth chest. The pants were of satin, cut low around slim hips and molded to his skin like paint. Soft leather boots encased each calf, reaching to just below his knees. The boy would have been a strange sight, indeed, had anyone been awake to observe him.
Julien had taken himself out of the city, with its noise and stink and violence. He told himself that he simply needed a break. He wasn’t running from anything. Certainly not from Ramos. Ramos wasn’t even 200. But he did have a following. And perhaps a strange relationship with the Watchers. Yes, he thought, perhaps it was a relationship indeed. But enough, he scolded himself. Time enough later to dwell upon such things. For now he craved peace and comfort. And companionship.
As he traveled along the quiet suburban streets he listened, his mind browsing through slumbering images of the sleepers around him, testing… tasting. Dreams and fancies and worries and fears, all were his to peruse. From such nocturnal mutterings he came to know something of those he passed, not just of their dreams but of their selves. At each house he passed he was able to discern the number of hearts that beat within, their approximate age, their sex, and even their state of health. To his left, an elderly couple, the male slowly being riddled with cancer. To his right, a young family; a pregnant mother, a father who was beginning to drink too much from the stress and responsibility of providing for a family, and a young girl, perhaps 4 or 5, who was blissfully unaware of the tumor that was growing in her cat. And then quite suddenly, there it was.
The boy shone like heat lightning on the horizon, his thoughts bright and alive and sensuous. Barely aware of his sexuality, his dreams were unfocused but powerfully, though vaguely, erotic. Even some distance away Julien could feel his body’s excitement.
The house was much like the others around it; a small ranch house in a quiet cul-de-sac. In the driveway sat a minivan and against the garage door leaned a boys bicycle. The house was dark, and beside the boy there was only a young woman within. Julien sensed she was in her early 30s and her dreams were untroubled.
Julien stopped at the front door, resting his forehead against the wood, sharpening his senses. To the woman he sent the suggestion to sleep, and he felt her sleep deepen. Then he turned his senses to the boy. Snippets of the boy’s dream flitted through his head, visions of naked flesh and hungry eyes. Julien focused his will, insinuating himself into the boy’s consciousness.
Wake, he willed. Awaken now.
Thirty feet away, through brick and plaster, Julien sensed the boy’s eyes flutter open. Calm, he sent, and felt the beating of the boy’s heart, racing as he pursued his erotic shadows, begin to slow.
Now come to me, he sent. Come to the door and let me in. You’ve been waiting for me. You’re happy to see me.
A soft rustle as bedclothes were pulled back. The quiet pad of small feet across carpet. The opening of a bedroom door. Footsteps closer and closer. Then as Julien stood waiting, the deadbolt was withdrawn and the door was pulled open.
The boy was perhaps 11 or 12. 12, Julien decided. He was a small boy; four foot nine, slender. His longish blond hair was sleep-tousled, and his soft blue eyes glazed with sleep and Julien’s compulsion. His eyes were large and his nose small and pert, giving him the appearance of one of those Japanese cartoon boys that had so recently amused the vampire. His lips were full and pink and soft. He wore only a pair of white briefs and his boyhood protruded, still half erect, a remnant of his dreams. The sight and scent of the boy, so fresh from his bed, caused Julien to shudder with anticipation and longing.
The boy smiled sleepily. “I’ve been waiting for you. I’m happy to see you.”
The Jedi, Julien thought with amusement, as he had since the 1970s and their birth, had nothing on vampires.
“May I enter your home?” Julien asked softly, withdrawing completely from the boy’s mind.
The boy blinked. He could refuse at this point. Permission had to be given without compulsion, but the confusion of the boy, his excited state from the dream, and the lingering effects of the previous compulsion were enough. “Sure… c’mon in.”
And then Julien was in the home and back into the boy’s mind. Verbal instruction was unnecessary. The slightest touch of Julien’s will was sufficient to guide the child back to his room. He had no desire to crush the boy’s mind, to make him a thrall. He exerted only the slightest influence, taking away the urge to question the situation and leaving him in a warm daze.
The room was typical of a young boy in this century, hung about with glossy posters of dinosaurs and super heroes, although his impending adolescence was reflected in the appearance of a teen idol or two. His impending homosexuality, not fully accepted yet by the boy, was evident in the fact that the teen idols were pretty, androgynous males. The double bed stood in one corner, sheets tangled, exuding the boy’s scent to Julien’s keen nose.
“Are we going to sleep now?” the boy asked, glancing between Julien and the bed, a hint of confusion in his voice.
Julien gazed at the innocent lad as he stood glowing in a luminous shaft of moonlight through the window. “What is your name?” he asked, while mentally smoothing the boy’s confusion. He removed a pair of ruby and onyx cufflinks and let his silk shirt slide coolly from his shoulders to flutter silently to the floor.
“My name’s Dylan. What’s yours?”
“I am Julien.”
“Julien. With a soft J.”
“Julien.” The boy smiled. “I like that. Julien,” he said again, wrapping his tongue around the unfamiliar French pronunciation.
Standing on one foot and then the other, Julien quickly removed his boots. With a quick shimmy he snaked out of his clinging satin pants. He wore no underwear.
Dylan eyes grew wide as he watched the other boy quickly undress. His eyes locked on Julien’s penis, where it hung pale and long from a hairless groin. He unconsciously licked his lips.
“You sure are white,” he said, wonderingly. “You look nice though.”
“You look wonderful as well, mon petit amour,” Julien breathed as he stepped forward and placed his hands on the other boy’s chest. He stood there for long moments, allowing the boy’s warmth to bathe against him, through him, suffusing him. Their eyes locked, innocent blue meeting knowing gray.
They were nearly the same height so Julien had only to lean forward to brush his cool lips against Dylan’s warm ones, and then to the other boy’s neck, nuzzling the warmth there, drinking in the twelve-year-old’s warm, boyish scent. Dylan gasped in surprised pleasure as he felt the boy vampire’s tongue lick at his neck. He lifted his hands to Julien’s sides and then his back, feeling the cool skin, like ivory or marble, slide under his trembling fingers. What a strange, wonderful dream, he thought.
Chest to chest, nipple to nipple, Julien teased himself, letting his small fangs scrape over Dylan’s exposed neck while he held the boy closer. Against his lips he felt the strong pulsing of the child’s carotid artery. Between their bodies he could feel the stirring of Dylan’s little penis, awakening from its brief slumber to poke hot and insistent against his groin. Dylan’s hands drifted along Julien’s slender back to his small firm ass, squeezing and caressing, pulling their crotches tighter together.
With a gasp Dylan felt the fangs sink into his neck. His small body trembled as Julien’s lips locked tightly against the throbbing vein in his neck, suckling him like a hungry puppy. There was only the briefest hint of pain before a pleasurable warmth began to spread from his neck, slowly encompassing his body.
Julien received the first spurt of the boy’s rich blood like a benediction, shuddering in ecstasy as the child’s warmth began to infuse him. In his chest his heart stuttered and then began to beat, quickly spreading the boy’s blood throughout his body, revitalizing and warming him. Between them, blood found its way to Julien’s penis, which began to lift and throb to match Dylan’s own.
Sated for the moment Julien began to lick at the twin punctures in the boy’s neck, an enzyme in his saliva quickly working to close the wounds. Dylan shuddered and sighed, shaky with a sort of lust he’d never encountered in his young life. He marveled as he stood there, chest to chest with this strange boy, feeling their hearts beat as one, feeling the insistent throb of Julien’s penis alongside his own. His mind was awhirl with pleasure and wonder.
After one last lick Julien trailed light kisses along the boy’s swan neck, along the soft curve of his jaw, to his soft, full lips. Dylan seemed startled for a moment by the kiss, his body tensing. Julien snaked his small tongue between the boy’s lips and felt the hesitant touch of Dylan’s tongue in return. He explored the warm cavern of the boy’s mouth, redolent of toothpaste and a hint of peanut butter, and then sighed in response as he felt Dylan’s tongue shyly protrude into his own mouth, sliding between his fangs, no doubt tasting the coppery-sweet tang of his own blood.
“Wha—what’s happening?” Dylan asked, catching his breath as he recovered from the kiss. His emotions were in an uproar even through the dreamy fog of his thoughts.
“Your reward, little prince,” Julien replied. “Repayment for your generosity.”
“I… I don’t understand.”
Relax, Julien sent, and the slight tension melted from the boy’s body.
It was Julien’s turn to explore the boy’s body, and he did so with hands and lips that had known the bodies of countless boys. Still, he thought, each boy was a surprise to him. Each one a rare pearl to be examined and delighted over. With hands that trembled nearly as much as those of the child before him, Julien traced the knobs of the boy’s spine, circling and caressing each one, lower and lower. He stroked Dylan’s tender flanks, fluttering with his breaths. High on his hips, a gathering of cloth between fingers and a slight exertion and the ruined briefs fell to the ground, leaving nothing between their bodies but air. Dylan didn’t even seem to notice. His eyes were shut, and his head tilted slightly back, his breathing shallow and rapid as he tried to contain the sensations traveling through his small body.
Fingers trailing lightly down each side, they reached down to hairless thighs, then around the back and up, lightly cupping then squeezing each pert buttock. Dylan, his eyes slowly opening and gaining some focus, leaned forward and once again found Julien’s lips. His own hands, fluttering uselessly at his sides, once again reached out to likewise rub tender ass flesh.
“I never did this,” he breathed.
“I will show you all, little one,” Julien smiled.
“Is this real?” Dylan then asked in his little boy voice.
“It is real. And it is a dream. Worry not, my love, I will leave you with a delicious memory.”
Julien turned the boy then lowered him till he was sitting on the bed. He then knelt between his legs and pushed his chest gently until he was leaning back on his elbows, his legs spread wide. Placing a hand on each thigh he gazed down upon the boy. Dylan stared back at him, heavy-lidded but eager. The boy’s chest rose and fell with each breath, his flat stomach showing some definition. Tanned flesh gave over to pale flesh below the child’s navel.
Cradled like a precious icon between his outstretched legs, his boycock stood stiffly, throbbing with every beat of his heart. Just four inches long and three quarters of an inch thick, the small morsel gleamed, covered in a surprising amount of pre-cum. The head was circumcised and Julien could see where the doctor had cut crookedly, leaving a slanting ring of tissue that the vampire found adorable. The small cockhead glowed pink and shiny in the moonlight. Below was a tightly wrinkled sac holding olive sized balls. Several small stray strands of golden hair covered the sac. The base of the boy’s pricklet was smooth and hairless.
Julien moved his hands to the boy’s hips and then leaned forward, licking the middle of his chest, tasting the sweat-slick flesh. Using his tongue he swiped a cool, wet line to Dylan’s left nipple. The boy gasped as he felt the warmth of Julien’s mouth close over that nubbin of flesh. Tongue whipping he quickly teased the pinkish tan nipple erect. Dylan then shuddered as Julien playfully bit at the pebbly flesh, his fang stopping just short of piercing the tender nub.
To the other nipple then, while his body sank against the boy’s, Dylan’s fevered prick pressing insistently against his chest, slicking him with his copious outpouring of pre-cum. Julien then playfully bit and licked and kissed and suckled his way down along Dylan’s quivering stomach, his tongue stopping on its downward trek only long enough to plunge and swirl into the boy’s small, taut bellybutton, causing the twelve-year-old to squirm.
Carefully skirting the object of his desire, Julien allowed his tongue to trace a path down along that pale groin until he found the moist cleft where thigh met trunk. The vampire then lifted each small ankle, bringing both up to the mattress, forcing the boy to lie back. Between virgin thighs Dylan’s small scrotum sat, tight and quivering. Watery pre-cum had carved a path of wetness to either side of the small sac, at the juncture of each thigh. And just below that, moist and pink and untouched, crouched the boy’s tiny rosebud.
Julien’s head darted once again between the boy’s legs. Sticking out his tongue he leaned forward slowly until it contacted one of those trails of pre-cum. Boy and vampire sighed as contact was made, the boy with sensation, and the vampire in epicurean delight. There was a sweet bitterness to a boy’s pre-cum when he was at a certain age; just into pubescence, but not yet into adolescence. As the diminutive vampire’s tongue lapped up his bounty, he tried to ignore the powerful pull of Dylan’s femoral artery, so tantalizingly close. Then his tongue found that sensitive area between a boy’s balls and his asshole, and he smiled as Dylan gasped and shuddered, releasing more boyish wetness.
Lower still, tongue skipping lightly over the tightened sphincter, feeling it contract as the boy moaned in fevered ecstasy. Swirling and tasting and pushing lightly. Then swirling and pushing again. Until finally, preternatural tongue slipped into preteen anus.
A vampire as old as Julien enjoyed a certain amount of control over his physical form. He couldn’t turn into a bat, or a wolf, or deconstruct himself to form a mist; such things were the stuff of fantasy. However, his vampiric flesh could be molded to a degree. While he couldn’t gain enough mass to form an adult body, he could change the shape of his face if he wished, taking on the appearance of another boy altogether. On a few occasions he had even formed himself small breasts and dressed as a girl, using his ‘feminine’ wiles to lure a few lecherous men to their doom. His hair, white as the soft downy feathers on a dove’s breast, was pure affectation, his one concession to vanity. His own blond hair, so long now without the touch of the sun, was the palest of yellows. The cupid’s bow mouth, the large, liquid gray eyes, the perfection of cheek and brow and jaw, all blending into a face at once innocent and wholly sensual, was his by nature.
Julien used that ability now to lengthen his tongue, spearing it inwards into Dylan’s sweaty center, swirling and twisting, making the boy writhe and moan. He thickened it too, filling the boy’s ass to just this side of uncomfortable. Then withdrawing and reverting to regular size, he licked back up and over the sensitive perineum and finally up under the taut nutsac.
The young boy’s thighs were trembling as Julien allowed his feet to lower back towards the floor. Meanwhile his tongue lightly explored the boy’s wrinkled scrotum. His tongue swirled and prodded each small testicle, wetting and sliding along each tiny wrinkled groove. With very little effort he was able to take the entire sac into his mouth, sucking lightly. Dylan clutched handfuls of sheet while his body shook and he whipped his head from side to side.
His pale fingers making the whiteness of Dylan’s groin seem tan in comparison, Julien reached forward and slid a hand beneath the boy’s quivering penis. He sensuously rubbed the pre-cum he found there into the smooth skin. Then, pressing lightly against the base, caused Dylan’s penis to lift upward. Gently releasing the small tender balls, he rasped his tongue slowly up the short length of prepubescent cock.
“Are you gonna… oh man, you are. Oh man,” Dylan whispered.
Julien’s tongue explored the delightfully crooked remnant of foreskin, then swirled expertly around the small, tender head. Moaning himself, he lapped at the small, leaking pisshole, forcing his tongue into the tiny slit. Then he wrapped his lips around the small spongy head and applied suction until Dylan sobbed with pleasure. Downward then in a slow, sensual journey only inches in length but long, teasing minutes in the making. All the while Julien took special care to keep the boy from cumming, seeing how long he could keep him on the precipice without allowing him to spill over. Walking the razor’s edge. Only preternatural senses allowed such a delicate balance.
Finally, reaching the gloriously smooth base, Julien took a few long moments just to revel in the sensation of having the whole of Dylan’s boyhood in his mouth. Such a feeling of power, given and received. And a feeling of responsibility, holding the tender stalk within, protecting it, worshiping it. Julien realized centuries ago that he worshiped at the idol of boyhood. And who better to do so than the very avatar of youth? And if boys were his religion, then the penis of a young boy was at the very core of its doctrine. The Eternal Font of Youth. The Scepter of Grace. The Rod of Nobility. And as the High Priest of his religion, he prepared to receive the Sacrament.
Lips firmly locked, Julien began to move up and down, allowing the young cock to piston in and out of his mouth. With his left hand he reached out to rub and squeeze Dylan’s pert nipples, while with his right thumb he began to press against his rubbery sphincter. Dylan spread his legs wider while his hands found Julien’s head. He began to thrust his slim hips upward, trying to match the rhythm of the vampire’s sucking mouth.
With a last push, Julien’s thumb speared into the tight anus, and with a cry Dylan’s hips thrust upward and locked into place, pressing insistently against Julien’s mouth, quivering while his young cock exploded. Julien felt the first searing blast of thin boyish cum splatter the back of his throat and he groaned as he was bathed in spurt after spurt… four… five… then growing weaker as Dylan grunted and ground his crotch against his face. Then with a gasp he collapsed back to the bed, his spit and cum-slickened cock shining wetly in the moonlight, panting.
Mouth still filled with watery boycum, Julien slid his body up and over Dylan’s until he was once again chest to chest with the small blond. He lowered his lips to his panting mouth and allowed a few dribbles of youthful nectar to drip between his parted lips. Dylan groaned and wrapped his arms and legs around the vampire, pressing his mouth to Julien’s, eager little tongue exploring, tasting. Julien shared the boy’s bounty, his mind awash in the boy’s pleasure.
Julien at last managed to separate his thoughts from those of the boy. But it was only with difficulty; Dylan’s thoughts were so primal, his pleasure so all-encompassing. Gently untangling himself from the boy’s clinging limbs he sat back and simply stared. Still locked in the fiery afterglow of his orgasm, Dylan hugged himself and rocked gently from side to side, smiling and mewling.
With gentle hands Julien rolled the boy until he was lying on his stomach, his still hard cock pressing wetly against the mattress. Sliding off the end of the bed Julien took into his hands Dylan’s left foot. He brought it to his face, first smelling, then licking the sensitive sole. Dylan giggled and squirmed. Julien slid his tongue between each toe, then took them one by one into his mouth. Dylan’s giggles turned to groans.
Julien licked around the boy’s ankle, then slowly began journeying upward. There was the lightest bit of golden down on each slim calf. Behind the knee, Julien once again paused to feel the beating of Dylan’s strong pulse against his lips. Then upward once again, over smooth, hairless thighs.
Settling himself between Dylan’s outstretched legs, Julien used his thumbs to gently spread the twelve year old’s small cheeks. Dylan shuddered as he felt the vampire’s hot breath across his tiny puckered asshole. Pushing his face into that gentle cleft, Julien once again assaulted the virgin hole with his tongue. He ravished the boy with his tongue, licking, sucking, probing. Then when he felt the boy was prepared, he sat back and stared. The tiny pink mouth dilated on its own, hungry now.
Gently easing a pillow under the boy’s hips, Julien crawled up the bed and covered Dylan’s body with his own. His stiff penis, only a bit larger than Dylan’s at nearly five inches and just an inch thick, throbbed as it rested in the sweaty cleft of the boy’s ass.
“Are… are you gonna do it,” Dylan asked breathlessly. “Are you gonna put in me?”
“Oui, méchant,” Julien murmured, laying his lips close behind the smaller boy’s ear, feeling his damp blond curls against his cheek.
“Will it hurt?” he asked, worry seeping into his voice.
“I promise you it will not,” Julien breathed.
“Shhhh, I know.”
Julien began to move his hips, sliding his cock along the valley between Dylan’s pert asscheeks. Then reaching down he grasped his stiff penis and, skinning back the foreskin, set the small spongy head at the entrance to the boy’s ass. He could feel Dylan shudder under him in anticipation. Tensing then, Julien pushed forward, harder, harder, until the head of his cock slipped past the tightly muscled ring of the small boy’s anus.
Dylan gasped. “It’s in me!”
“Almost chou-chou. Almost.” So saying, he pushed forward, gently filling the boy with this slim cock.
“Filling me up,” Dylan whispered in wonder.
Finally Julien could go no further. He was encased in fiery flesh. Dylan’s ass sucked at his cock, milking him. He groaned. Sliding his hands along the boy’s forearms he wrapped his hands over Dylan’s, interlocking their fingers. Then he began to move.
To Julien this was a dance. A ballet of the flesh. The choreography of lust. Each move was precise, calculated to bring the most pleasure to both partners. To Dylan it was nothing so structured. To the virgin boy it was elemental and chaotic. Like being caught up in the ocean, twisted and churned by the surf, crashed against the shore only to be taken back out to sea, caught in a riptide, drowning in sensation.
Julien’s hips moved, driving his cock in and out of Dylan’s little ass. Much as he had earlier sensed the boy, he sensed his impending climax, like heat lightning on the horizon, distant but growing in power. His ears were full of Dylan’s breathless gasps and his own bestial little grunts, of the slap, slap, slap of their sweaty bodies as they each rushed toward orgasm.
Closer and closer. Julien felt himself losing control. His mind was being assaulted by the primal beat of Dylan’s thoughts. Sex and skin and sweat and blood. And blood. At the crest of the wave Julien was rolled under. As his orgasm crashed over him he savagely sank his fangs into the side of Dylan’s neck. As his own bloodied emission spurted into the boy’s ass, he drew Dylan’s lifeblood into himself, a circle of blood and life and death.
It was the small boy’s pitiful moan that finally brought Julien to his senses. One moment he was lying on top of the boy, fangs in his neck, cock still pulsing in his ass, and the next he was standing, back to the wall across the room, staring in fear and horror. The boy still breathed and Julien threw out his senses, desperately analyzing Dylan’s condition. Finally he sensed that the boy wasn’t quite as damaged as he’d feared, but still dangerously weakened.
Julien collapsed in relief, all strength running out of his body. With what seemed a colossal effort he crawled back onto the bed and pulled the child into his arms, unnerved by how doll-like he seemed. He smoothed his hands over the small frail body, whispering his apologies to him, promising him all would be well. He licked at the boy’s neck, closing the ragged wound, deeply ashamed at having lost control.
Julien couldn’t remember the last time something like this had happened. He was always fully in control of himself. While it was true that he hadn’t had a boy in quite awhile, it was no excuse for losing himself like that. He was no neophyte bloodsucker. Perhaps his frustration and fear, yes fear he finally admitted to himself, with his own current situation had gotten the better of him. Holding the boy close, warming him, being warmed by him, he vowed that he would run no longer.
As you can see, the story is begging to be continued. Hoping to get to that soon. I think Julien's tale isn't yet finished. Hope you enjoyed him. Please drop me a line if you liked it at firstname.lastname@example.org.