Even the setting of the sun had offered no relief from the stifling summer heat. It lingered, thick as fog, along the narrow arteries of the city, its oppressive weight broken only by a breeze which brushed feather soft across the skin. Even the moon seemed fatigued, shrouded as it was behind a gauzy veil of thin clouds, its silver vibrancy tarnished and yellowing.
Fabien's trembling excitement at being allowed to accompany his master on these nightly excursions had not yet waned. The boy still struggled to maintain a reasonable pace at Tariq's side, the muscles of his body eager to be stretched to full capacity. His pace slowed and he fell behind, dazzled to breathlessness by a street light.
"I hope you were listening back there?" His blind-eyed companion questioned softly, waiting for the boy to meet his stride.
"Mm? Oh, oui, Monsieur." The sharp-eyed youth murmured distractedly, moving with a swiftness that rivalled the winged feet of Hermes.
"Then repeat to me what I just said."
Fabien lifted his head to meet his master's unseeing eyes, and the boy's undead heart twinged at the sight of him. The boy fell quiet, too overcome by the unearthly beauty of his companion’s features to answer him promptly.
"That … that all I must do tonight is make a choice. I must...tell you who I prefer, how they make me feel."
"Very good," he replied, his voice warm with pleasure. He rewarded the youth's attentiveness with a brush of his hand through his wheat coloured hair.
They moved like liquid shadows through the coal dark streets and narrow alleyways, the younger of the pair uncertain of their route but happily guided. At last Tariq paused at an intersection where traders and late night wanderers happened to gather. He stilled the boy’s steps with a flick of his walking stick against his shin, and Fabien pressed his lean body affectionately into his side.
Few souls remained awake at so unsociable an hour, only unfortunates still bound to their trade or lost to the bottle. One such unhappy pair occupied both ends of this dour square, which was no doubt lively with entertainment and food stalls when the sun was raised high in the sky.
For now, there was a woman just past the blush of youth busily engaged in her labour. She moved with easy strength as her bandaged wrapped hands disassembled empty food crates before she worked to lift produce onto a cart. Her brown hair clung to the ruddy flush of her cheeks, and she paused to wipe the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.
In a separate corner, a man lay groaning against a wall. The bloodied blot of wine darkened his collar, and his clothes were of a fine cut. A trader perhaps, staying at the inn while conducting business. His long hair was secured by a piece of filthy ribbon, and there appeared to be a thin cut upon his brow that suggested his evening had not been an entirely pleasant one.
Fabien glanced up towards his master, his luminous in the darkness of the alley where they lingered like restless spirits.
The smell of blood drew him first, and he studied the prone figure hunched against the wall with sharp interest. His attention then turned to the woman, who had paused in her work to sink her teeth into an apple as she reclined against her cart. He watched her teeth pop into the hard skin of the fruit, juices glistening on her lips as she sighed tiredly.
"She smells good, and I- I like that she looks strong. She looks like she could hurt me, if she wanted."
"The woman, then?" His master’s murmured, and his hand found the back of the boy's neck, to stroke his smooth, cool skin.
"I want to speak with her," the boy breathed. He took a sharp step forward, giddy with excitement as desire thrummed beneath his skin.
"Fabien." Tariq warned softly.
The youth had already plunged ahead with the characteristic joy of an excitable hound. His movements were unnervingly quick, but thankfully his companion had the foresight to catch him by the back of his coat. In a blur of movement, his spine met with something solid as he was hauled from view. His body was pinned beneath Master's weight, and the boy writhed like a stuck eel. Even with the breath crushed from his lungs, his eyes still sought the woman, as the smell of her blood sang to him from around the corner.
"Fabien, look at me."
The sound of his master's voice cut like through the boy’s hunger like a freshly sharpened blade. He turned his head, and his painfully new teeth glinted behind his wet lips as he tried to catch his breath. Tariq eased his weight from the boy, but kept him secured to the wall with the press of his stick like a steel bar across his stomach.
"Do you see how busy the adjoining street is? Even at this hour?"
Fabien caught the skin of his lip between the sharp point of his tooth. Slowly, his eyes began to regain focus, though he appeared sluggish and distant, like one awakening from a dream.
“Wait here for me until I call you. Can I trust to leave you alone?"
"Oui, Monsieur," he murmured remorsefully.
When his master was satisfied, he released him, and Fabien watched him de-materialised like a wisp of smoke. Thankfully, the boy who did not have long to wait, though the agony of his hunger made an hour of every second.
He lifted his head at the sound of his name, whisper-soft but easily detectable with his inhuman senses. His lock-pickers fingers grasped for a window ledge, and the youth hauled himself up and into the velvet darkness of a nearby building. Once inside, he needed no touch or voice to guide him, but followed the scent of the woman’s blood like a crimson thread in the dark. The building had long been unoccupied, its tall windows boarded up like a house condemned. Only mice still haunted the abandoned rooms, and their tiny clawed feet skittered across dusty boards when they realised they were no longer alone.
"She ...she will not suffer? Like you promised?" The boy rasped softly as he emerged from the shadows, and a twinge of remorse plucked the soft strands of his heart.
"Non."
The woman was sprawled on an abandoned bed, the only remaining piece of furniture which had stubbornly held its ground in this sad little room. It had been elegant in a previous life. The pale lacework drapes were torn and pitted with holes, but their tarnished beauty bestowed the scene with the melancholy air of an open casket wake. Such a scene might have made the young vampire’s heart ache with pity, were he not so desperate with hunger.
She slept serenely, her brow darkened by a bruise that would not be given the opportunity to swell. In another time, he might have wondered what her name was, whether she had family, friends. And who would be the first to mourn her, now that she was gone.
But now, he could hear the soft thud of her strong heart in her chest. He could smell the fruit of the apple upon her chin, mingled with clean sweat and something like dried flowers.
The boy was gentle as he moved aside the collar of her starched linen shirt, and parted his lips.
---
When he was satisfied his boy had drunk his fill, Tariq hauled the cold body unceremoniously from the bed. Fabien, his head swimming and lips reddened, scarcely had time to catch his breath before his master's mouth was on him.
Tariq licked the stain of bloodied spit from his teeth with a low growl of yearning, before he forced the boy down into the creaking wooden frame. His hands slipped down lines of his body beneath his clothes, feeling the firm curve of his flanks and rippling bones of his ribs before he reached the waistline of his breeches.
Before the youth had the opportunity to consider stopping him, his companion had already seized the fabric in both hands. He tore though it as though it were gossamer fine.
"Monsie-?" The probed softly, as his master stripped him like one might peel aside the outer skin of an orange.
It was immediately clear the blood had stirred him with desire. He watched his elegant hands move to grasp and spread apart his bone white thighs so that he could lean in towards him, and press his fingertips against his bloodied lower lip.
"Ça me rend sauvage...quand tu as chaud de sang.” His master spoke roughly, and the boy’s mouth opened with a gasp to invite his beautiful fingers against his tongue.
He sucked upon him with a feral eagerness that grew almost vicious by the time their mouths met a second time.
Fabien watched his hand, glistening with the wetness of his tongue, trail down between his open legs. His master skimmed over the twitching flesh of his cock, before he moved lower still to caress the entrance of his ass. The boy swallowed firmly, his knees faintly trembling as he slipped his fingers slowly inside him. His neck arched, and his squirming, whimpering response was more than the vampire could bear. Unable to restrain himself enough to torment the youth longer, he hastily unfastened his belt and hooked his knee over his shoulder. He entered him with an abrupt thrust that was met with loud, whining cries that had to be quickly stifled by his palm.
His sharp-eyed youth’s agile fingers dug deep into the flesh of his shoulder. What would have caused a lesser creature pain, but only seemed to encourage his master to exert more force. He hoisted the boy’s hips upwards, and leaned forward so that he might thrust ever deeper into his blood warmed body.
The orchestra of sensations plucked from his new body caused tears to spring to his eyes. Tariq took eager advantage of the boy's newly gained strength, and soon until his muffled, aching cries grew fierce. When it seemed he could take little more, his hand moved to his cock, he rewarded the youth with slow, firm strokes which had his toes curling.
Sensitive as he was, it took little effort to reduce the youth to whimpering, trembling tangle of limbs and bucking hips. He came with his teeth pressed against his master’s palm, gushing hot across his stomach. His trembling tension of his body was enough to encourage his master to finish inside him, his teeth scoring red lines across the boy’s neck. They lay there panting in the dark, their skin glistening with sweat. Eventually the blind vampire managed to find his feet, and the heel of his boot caught the arm of the forlorn figure left cold and unwanted.
Fabien’s voice trembled as he spoke.
"H-how am I… meant to go back out there? Like this?" He croaked, and plucked irritably at what shreds of cloth still valiantly clung to his hips and knees.
Tariq responded with a soft sound of amusement that rumbled at the back of his throat. He shrugged his thin coat from his shoulders, and offered it to the youth with a wry quirk of an eyebrow.
Fabien's trembling excitement at being allowed to accompany his master on these nightly excursions had not yet waned. The boy still struggled to maintain a reasonable pace at Tariq's side, the muscles of his body eager to be stretched to full capacity. His pace slowed and he fell behind, dazzled to breathlessness by a street light.
"I hope you were listening back there?" His blind-eyed companion questioned softly, waiting for the boy to meet his stride.
"Mm? Oh, oui, Monsieur." The sharp-eyed youth murmured distractedly, moving with a swiftness that rivalled the winged feet of Hermes.
"Then repeat to me what I just said."
Fabien lifted his head to meet his master's unseeing eyes, and the boy's undead heart twinged at the sight of him. The boy fell quiet, too overcome by the unearthly beauty of his companion’s features to answer him promptly.
"That … that all I must do tonight is make a choice. I must...tell you who I prefer, how they make me feel."
"Very good," he replied, his voice warm with pleasure. He rewarded the youth's attentiveness with a brush of his hand through his wheat coloured hair.
They moved like liquid shadows through the coal dark streets and narrow alleyways, the younger of the pair uncertain of their route but happily guided. At last Tariq paused at an intersection where traders and late night wanderers happened to gather. He stilled the boy’s steps with a flick of his walking stick against his shin, and Fabien pressed his lean body affectionately into his side.
Few souls remained awake at so unsociable an hour, only unfortunates still bound to their trade or lost to the bottle. One such unhappy pair occupied both ends of this dour square, which was no doubt lively with entertainment and food stalls when the sun was raised high in the sky.
For now, there was a woman just past the blush of youth busily engaged in her labour. She moved with easy strength as her bandaged wrapped hands disassembled empty food crates before she worked to lift produce onto a cart. Her brown hair clung to the ruddy flush of her cheeks, and she paused to wipe the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand.
In a separate corner, a man lay groaning against a wall. The bloodied blot of wine darkened his collar, and his clothes were of a fine cut. A trader perhaps, staying at the inn while conducting business. His long hair was secured by a piece of filthy ribbon, and there appeared to be a thin cut upon his brow that suggested his evening had not been an entirely pleasant one.
Fabien glanced up towards his master, his luminous in the darkness of the alley where they lingered like restless spirits.
The smell of blood drew him first, and he studied the prone figure hunched against the wall with sharp interest. His attention then turned to the woman, who had paused in her work to sink her teeth into an apple as she reclined against her cart. He watched her teeth pop into the hard skin of the fruit, juices glistening on her lips as she sighed tiredly.
"She smells good, and I- I like that she looks strong. She looks like she could hurt me, if she wanted."
"The woman, then?" His master’s murmured, and his hand found the back of the boy's neck, to stroke his smooth, cool skin.
"I want to speak with her," the boy breathed. He took a sharp step forward, giddy with excitement as desire thrummed beneath his skin.
"Fabien." Tariq warned softly.
The youth had already plunged ahead with the characteristic joy of an excitable hound. His movements were unnervingly quick, but thankfully his companion had the foresight to catch him by the back of his coat. In a blur of movement, his spine met with something solid as he was hauled from view. His body was pinned beneath Master's weight, and the boy writhed like a stuck eel. Even with the breath crushed from his lungs, his eyes still sought the woman, as the smell of her blood sang to him from around the corner.
"Fabien, look at me."
The sound of his master's voice cut like through the boy’s hunger like a freshly sharpened blade. He turned his head, and his painfully new teeth glinted behind his wet lips as he tried to catch his breath. Tariq eased his weight from the boy, but kept him secured to the wall with the press of his stick like a steel bar across his stomach.
"Do you see how busy the adjoining street is? Even at this hour?"
Fabien caught the skin of his lip between the sharp point of his tooth. Slowly, his eyes began to regain focus, though he appeared sluggish and distant, like one awakening from a dream.
“Wait here for me until I call you. Can I trust to leave you alone?"
"Oui, Monsieur," he murmured remorsefully.
When his master was satisfied, he released him, and Fabien watched him de-materialised like a wisp of smoke. Thankfully, the boy who did not have long to wait, though the agony of his hunger made an hour of every second.
He lifted his head at the sound of his name, whisper-soft but easily detectable with his inhuman senses. His lock-pickers fingers grasped for a window ledge, and the youth hauled himself up and into the velvet darkness of a nearby building. Once inside, he needed no touch or voice to guide him, but followed the scent of the woman’s blood like a crimson thread in the dark. The building had long been unoccupied, its tall windows boarded up like a house condemned. Only mice still haunted the abandoned rooms, and their tiny clawed feet skittered across dusty boards when they realised they were no longer alone.
"She ...she will not suffer? Like you promised?" The boy rasped softly as he emerged from the shadows, and a twinge of remorse plucked the soft strands of his heart.
"Non."
The woman was sprawled on an abandoned bed, the only remaining piece of furniture which had stubbornly held its ground in this sad little room. It had been elegant in a previous life. The pale lacework drapes were torn and pitted with holes, but their tarnished beauty bestowed the scene with the melancholy air of an open casket wake. Such a scene might have made the young vampire’s heart ache with pity, were he not so desperate with hunger.
She slept serenely, her brow darkened by a bruise that would not be given the opportunity to swell. In another time, he might have wondered what her name was, whether she had family, friends. And who would be the first to mourn her, now that she was gone.
But now, he could hear the soft thud of her strong heart in her chest. He could smell the fruit of the apple upon her chin, mingled with clean sweat and something like dried flowers.
The boy was gentle as he moved aside the collar of her starched linen shirt, and parted his lips.
---
When he was satisfied his boy had drunk his fill, Tariq hauled the cold body unceremoniously from the bed. Fabien, his head swimming and lips reddened, scarcely had time to catch his breath before his master's mouth was on him.
Tariq licked the stain of bloodied spit from his teeth with a low growl of yearning, before he forced the boy down into the creaking wooden frame. His hands slipped down lines of his body beneath his clothes, feeling the firm curve of his flanks and rippling bones of his ribs before he reached the waistline of his breeches.
Before the youth had the opportunity to consider stopping him, his companion had already seized the fabric in both hands. He tore though it as though it were gossamer fine.
"Monsie-?" The probed softly, as his master stripped him like one might peel aside the outer skin of an orange.
It was immediately clear the blood had stirred him with desire. He watched his elegant hands move to grasp and spread apart his bone white thighs so that he could lean in towards him, and press his fingertips against his bloodied lower lip.
"Ça me rend sauvage...quand tu as chaud de sang.” His master spoke roughly, and the boy’s mouth opened with a gasp to invite his beautiful fingers against his tongue.
He sucked upon him with a feral eagerness that grew almost vicious by the time their mouths met a second time.
Fabien watched his hand, glistening with the wetness of his tongue, trail down between his open legs. His master skimmed over the twitching flesh of his cock, before he moved lower still to caress the entrance of his ass. The boy swallowed firmly, his knees faintly trembling as he slipped his fingers slowly inside him. His neck arched, and his squirming, whimpering response was more than the vampire could bear. Unable to restrain himself enough to torment the youth longer, he hastily unfastened his belt and hooked his knee over his shoulder. He entered him with an abrupt thrust that was met with loud, whining cries that had to be quickly stifled by his palm.
His sharp-eyed youth’s agile fingers dug deep into the flesh of his shoulder. What would have caused a lesser creature pain, but only seemed to encourage his master to exert more force. He hoisted the boy’s hips upwards, and leaned forward so that he might thrust ever deeper into his blood warmed body.
The orchestra of sensations plucked from his new body caused tears to spring to his eyes. Tariq took eager advantage of the boy's newly gained strength, and soon until his muffled, aching cries grew fierce. When it seemed he could take little more, his hand moved to his cock, he rewarded the youth with slow, firm strokes which had his toes curling.
Sensitive as he was, it took little effort to reduce the youth to whimpering, trembling tangle of limbs and bucking hips. He came with his teeth pressed against his master’s palm, gushing hot across his stomach. His trembling tension of his body was enough to encourage his master to finish inside him, his teeth scoring red lines across the boy’s neck. They lay there panting in the dark, their skin glistening with sweat. Eventually the blind vampire managed to find his feet, and the heel of his boot caught the arm of the forlorn figure left cold and unwanted.
Fabien’s voice trembled as he spoke.
"H-how am I… meant to go back out there? Like this?" He croaked, and plucked irritably at what shreds of cloth still valiantly clung to his hips and knees.
Tariq responded with a soft sound of amusement that rumbled at the back of his throat. He shrugged his thin coat from his shoulders, and offered it to the youth with a wry quirk of an eyebrow.
