smackenzie

After he dropped Sam off at his building, Aurelian drove back home, parked the Jag, changed his clothes, and went out to find something to eat. He was hungry, for more than just blood, and he hadn't told Sam about his being a vampire, and he needed to think out the best way to do that. So he walked, because it helped him think, and if he should pass someone who looked like a good appetizer, he could stop and snack without having to pull the car over or find a place to park.

Many many years ago, he'd lived in Paris for a while and had drunk from high-class courtesans, some of whom even catered to the undead population of the city, residents and well-heeled tourists alike. There were places like than in Eden too, some very posh and beautiful and expensive, and some at the far end of the spectrum that were more like crack houses.

In his heart Aurelian didn't feel the need for the kind of companionship they provided, but his body said otherwise. He wanted to be with someone who knew what he was and wasn't scared off and didn't want to be turned, and he wanted to feed, and later he thought he might want to talk to Clare, although he had an idea she would only tell him he had to talk to Sam now before he was too far gone.

It is too late for that, chere Madame Castillon, he thought now, as he got fed up with walking and hailed a cab. (It really was very cold. Vampires felt the extremes in temperature differently than did mortals, but they could still get cold when it was freezing outside.) I have found my sun, and I am lost.

(Even when he was Ruslan, he had had a particularly romantic poetic bent. Aurelian had written what he thought was spectacularly bad poetry during the past two centuries, all of it burned now in embarrassment. It was one of the reasons he considered himself more a musician than anything else - he could compose a much better love song than a love poem. But he still tended to throw himself into flowery words and phrases when he was in love, or speaking about someone or something he felt strongly about.)

The place he chose this evening was called Mina's, in homage to Mina Harker. It was seventy years old and run by a small, stunning half-Spanish, half-Chumash vampire called Carlotta, who had been the daughter of a Spanish landowner in what became California. She was around the same age as Aurelian, having been turned in the very early nineteenth century. She'd moved to Eden from San Francisco, where she had run the previous incarnation of Mina's, which was then called The Three Sisters.

Mina's was so well hidden that you could knock on the front door, be let in to the foyer, and think it was someone's private house. It occupied two tall brownstones that had been converted into one place; the curtains were always drawn but light could be seen from behind some of them, and if you didn't know (as most people didn't know) you'd think the people who lived there were just having friends over for a party, or maybe some out of town guests. Carlotta was almost painfully discreet - she didn't advertise at all, except in some very underground vampire-run publications, and most people knew about her from word of mouth.

She took mortal clients as well as immortal ones, and you could either drink from the girls and boys who worked there or you could have a drink from the freshly-stocked bar. You could have real food, if you wanted, although very few people did, and you could have sex without the blood, or blood without the sex, or conversation, or all three. Whatever you wanted, if your credit was good.

Aurelian had very good credit.

He buzzed after the cab had driven away, gave his name, and waited. Sometimes they made you wait while they checked you out on the security cameras. Vampires showed up on camera but not in the mirrors set in the doorway in lieu of glass - the camera was angled so it could catch the person at the door and his or her reflection in the mirrors, if there was one. Sometimes they asked for a reference or a password. The password changed, but Mina's had a mailing list for its regulars and sent the new password when Carlotta decided she was ready for a new one.

It took them less than a minute to let Aurelian inside. A pretty young thing in a clingy silver dress took his coat in the foyer (and checked to see if he cast a reflection in the gilt-framed mirrors on the wall - you could never be too careful, Carlotta said), asked what he wished this evening, and ushered him into the waiting room.

This evening he wished a boy he could drink from and a boy he could fuck, or in a pinch a boy who would at least suck him off. He knew who he wanted, too.

"I am sorry, sir," a different boy came to him and said. "Daniel is not here this evening. His schedule has grown erratic, as you may know. Do you wish someone else, or something else?" The boy's expression and stance clearly said he would serve as Daniel's stand-in, and if Aurelian wanted someone else, he was more than willing to be it.

(Well, willing and well-paid. Carlotta was exceptionally generous to her boys and girls. She had to be.)

"I just saw him Friday," Aurelian murmured, "and he never said...." Although, to be fair, that kind of thing didn't usually come up in conversation.

"Shall I show you around, sir? Would you perhaps prefer a girl? Pinella has just returned from Rio and has a lovely bronze tan and several new techniques." The boy's expression was still stuck on Do I suit? although house protocol dictated he offer Aurelian another choice, so as not to seem like he was throwing himself at the vampire, and to preserve the polite facade.

"Are you on duty?" Aurelian had been here enough times to know the code phrases.

"Yes, sir. My name is Aron. Shall I get you a drink and escort you into the billiard room, perhaps, or somewhere more private?"

"Somewhere private, Aron, please. You have a very luscious mouth." Aron nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment and the code, and Aurelian smiled at him. Once they were in the room he would find out if he could get more than just a blow job.

Aron certainly was pretty, and certainly had a lovely, firm ass, which Aurelian got a good look at as he followed the boy up the stairs to the third floor, down a hall, and into a room. On their way up they passed a man and a woman coming down, both of them flushed and giggling and touching. Two mortals? Aurelian thought, although he got a better look as the woman brushed past him, and noticed a white bandage on her wrist almost hidden by her sleeve.

"In here," Aron said, opening the door and ushering Aurelian inside. "Let me make you comfortable." He helped Aurelian out of his suit jacket, gestured for him to sit on the bed, and then knelt on the floor and untied and pulled off his dress shoes (which were Italian, of course) and his socks. Aurelian scooted backwards on the bed and beckoned to Aron.

"Come here," he said. "I want to taste you."

"As you wish." Aron sat next to him and tilted his head, turning his chin to Aurelian and exposing his neck.

He really was a lovely boy, dark-skinned and dark-haired, the muscles in his chest well-defined and lightly oiled. He wasn't wearing a shirt - the boys in Carlotta's employ seldom did, if they were on duty - and his black leather pants clung to him in all the right ways, not too tight but just enough to give hints of muscled thighs and a tight butt and spectacular package. He didn't look anything like Sam, which was the point. (Daniel didn't look anything like Sam either, despite the blond hair. Daniel was much more effete, much more a snob, and much more a drama queen. But oh, he was an incredible fuck.)

Aurelian leaned in and licked Aron's neck, tasting cinnamon and cardamom and salt. Delicious. Underneath his tongue Aurelian could feel Aron's heartbeat, could feel the rush of blood through his jugular. It was occasionally very dangerous work, being a pretty boy for hire at Carlotta's.

"I want to touch you," Aurelian said. "I want to take you from behind, feel myself in that firm, tight ass. I want to bite you on the shoulder, not the neck, and I want us to climax together. What do you want?" This was not quite code and not quite protocol, to ask the courtesans what they wanted, but sometimes clients did, out of politeness or playacting or a genuine wish to give whatever boy or girl who was there a choice. They could always say no. It was in their contract, and anyone who came to Mina's knew that.

Aurelian asked because he wanted the boy to say yes, and because it was polite, and because he wanted Aron to be comfortable. He also knew what Aron would say.

"I want to make you scream."

Aurelian chuckled. "I think you will." Now Aron leaned forward and kissed him, let Aurelian take control of things, and while they kissed the boy unbuttoned Aurelian's shirt, pushed down his suspenders, and stroked him through his pants.

"I can tell you will feel incredible inside me," Aron murmured into his mouth. Aurelian smiled and reached out and stroked his hands across Aron's chest, pausing to tweak a dark nipple and grin at the boy's sharply indrawn breath. He wondered how much of Aron's arousal was genuine and how much was the courtesan's ruse, and then decided he didn't care. Aron was a good kisser, and his hands knew what they were doing at the waistband of his charcoal wool pants, deftly undoing the belt buckle, the button, and the zipper.

Aurelian probably should not have worn his suspenders, but he really liked how they look on him, and Aron didn't seem to be having so much trouble. He pulled Aurelian's shirt off his shoulders and Aurelian let him pull it off all the way, moaning softly in appreciation and encouragement as Aron tongued his nipples, first one and then the other, licking and suckling and nipping gently.

Aurelian found himself wondering what Sam's mouth would feel like on his skin, tasting him this way, and instead of dampening his arousal or making him want to push Aron away, it only made him hotter and harder and hungrier.

"Lie back," Aron murmured, moving up to plant kisses along Aurelian's collarbone and shoulders and neck. His nipples were hard and tight now, his cock throbbing painfully half-out of his pants. He reached down and squeezed Aron's obvious erection and was rewarded with another sharp breath, and a groan.

"Are you ready for me?" Aron asked, his voice teasing. He looked Aurelian in the face, his lips smiling playfully but his eyes dark and wide and hot.

They really are the windows to the soul, Aurelian thought.

"No," he said. "But you seem to be ready for me."

"I am always ready, master."

"Please, call me Aurelian."

"If you wish."

"I do wish."

"Then lie back, Aurelian, and let me prepare myself for you."

He had evidently gotten himself a very formal boy. Not all of Carlotta's employees were like this. Aurelian wasn't entirely excited by the stiff formality of Aron's words, but his voice was enticing, and his body was perfect, and that combined with his blood would be just what Aurelian needed.

He lay back on the pillows and lifted his hips as Aron pulled off his pants and his boxer shorts, folded them carefully, and laid them along with the shirt on a chair. He bent over a little farther than was absolutely necessary, affording Aurelian a perfect view of that perfect leather-covered ass, then straightened and slowly unbuttoned the leather pants, and slowly worked them down his hips, and slowly bent to push them all the way off.

When he stood again Aurelian could see his thick cock hard and full and curving up, straining towards Aron's flat stomach and glistening slightly at the tip. Aurelian just lay there lazily stroking his own cock and enjoying the show as Aron pulled a pump bottle of lube from a drawer in the nightstand, slicked his fingers with it, and pushed one and then two inside himself, preparing his ass for Aurelian.

The boy's head dropped back as he slowly finger-fucked himself, his other hand stroking his cock. Aurelian could see the flush creeping across Aron's dark skin, his nipples standing out, his heartbeat thrumming behind his ribs. Oh, he was a sight, and it was all Aurelian could do to not jump off the bed, bend the boy over the chair, and fuck him until they both collapsed.

He did get off the bed, though, stod right in front of Aron, grabbed his chin, pulled his head down, and kissed him hard. As he did he felt Aron pull his hand free, wrap his arm around Aurelian's waist, and slide two slippery fingers inside his ass. Aurelian moaned into the boy's mouth, rocking back on his fingers and rubbing forward against his belly and cock.

"Do you wish... protection?" Aron gasped. Protocol. They had to ask, even though everyone knew you couldn't get sexually transmitted diseases from a vampire, nor could they get them from you. But Aron had to ask, because sometimes people were paranoid.

Aurelian was not. He'd spent many decades having continuously rough sex, dangerous sex, the kind of games with the kind of people that would put him in all the highest risk groups. But he wasn't even alive and had never passed on so much as a cough.

"I do not wish," he said now, "unless you do." Aron shook his head. "Give me your hand." Aron retracted his fingers, brought his hand between them, and stroked Aurelian's cock, slicking it with what was left of the lube on his hand. "Perfect. Now turn around, put your hands on the dresser." Aron did. "You are so lovely like this, do people tell you that? Your skin so smooth, so shiny, your ass so firm, your muscles so taut. Your mouth is delicious, Aron. I imagine your blood is too."

While he crooned those words Aurelian was busy sliding his own finger inside the tight butt Aron presented to him, stroking his own cock, lining himself up, and pushing inside.

"Oh yes," he murmured, "so tight and hot, so perfect. Move with me." He gripped Aron's hips and started to thrust, slowly, taking his time, enjoying the sensation of the boy's ass clenching around his cock, the boy's breath coming in gasps and moans, the boy's back muscles jumping. Aurelian reached down and around and took Aron's cock in his hand, tightened his fingers around the quivering, hungry flesh, and pulled.

"So strong," Aron panted. "Oh... Aurelian... you are... so... strong...."

"Yes, I am.... And you take it well." He speeded up now, feeling his orgasm building, feeling his hunger building, feeling his fangs lengthening. He grinned a wolfish, feral grin over Aron's back, which Aron of couse couldn't see, and leaned down, skin to skin, changing the angle of his thrusts and making the boy cry out as Aurelian's cock rubbed against his gland over and over, insistently.

"I'm close.... I will... wait...."

"Not for long, Aron. I can smell your blood. I want it."

"Now, please... take it... take me...."

Aurelian flicked his tongue over his fangs, testing the sharpness of the points, leaned down, licked sweat off Aron's shoulder, and without warning sank his teeth into the boy's flesh. Aron screamed and came spasmodically, shooting through Aurelian's fingers, the muscles in his body clamping down on Aurelian's cock, the blood in his shoulder flooding Aurelian's mouth.

He tasted like cinnamon, Aron did, and cloves and red wine and grilled lamb and green beans with almonds. He tasted incredible, and he pushed back into Aurelian's hips, coaxing him on towards climax, trying to draw Aurelian further inside. But Aurelian was already inside as far as he could go, his cock balls-deep and his consciousness spreading through Aron, borne on the wave of blood.

Aron's scream died down, as did his moans, and his thrusts backwards slowed, and Aurelian couldn't hold back any more, couldn't drink any more without harming him. A mortal body could lose a pint of blood without undue harm, but he would be weak and not much good for the rest of the evening. Carlotta's courtesans were strong and healthy, but they were not allowed to bleed any more than a pint during the course of their shift.

"You fuck like a volcano," Aron murmured, and that was enough. Aurelian thrust into him strongly, sucking up a last rush of blood as he came deep inside Aron's ass. His fangs retracted, he licked his lips, and then he licked the puncture wounds on the boy's shoulder, closing them.

"Amazing," he said. "That was everything I wanted. You were wonderful, Aron. I will tell Carlotta. I will even tell my friends." He grinned against Aron's back, taking the opportunity to breathe in the smell of a mortal boy coming down from climax. The room smelled of sex and spunk and cinnamon and blood, smelled of sated hunger and fulfilled need.

Aron rested against the dresser and Aurelian rested against him until he was soft. He pulled out, helped Aron stand, turned him around and kissed him again, gently this time, a thank-you kiss.

"You really are a lovely, lovely boy," he said. "I could come to like you very much. And you taste wonderful."

"You're not too bad yourself," Aron said. He grinned a sudden, impish grin, dropping the formality for a minute. "Would you like a shower now? Shall I clean you off, soap you down?"

"No, thank you, you've given me more than enough." It was a compliment and Aurelian meant it sincerely. "But you can help me with my clothes."

So Aron did, dressing Aurelian even before he put on his own leather pants. It wasn't often pretty naked boys helped Aurelian button his shirt and fix his suspenders. He could almost get used to it.

"I will see my way out," he told Aron, when they were both finally dressed. "I drank quite a lot from you. You must rest." Aron was about to protest - protocol again, and pride - but Aurelian put a finger against his swollen lips, shushing him. "Carlotta would say the same. Before I leave I will make sure to tell her how well you performed and how lovely you were, and I will tell her I quite tired you out." He grinned. "Deal?"

"Deal. I shall lie here and rest. Good evening, Aurelian. I'm glad I got this chance to be with you."

"I am too. Good night, bello." One more kiss on that full mouth, one last squeeze of the tight ass, and Aurelian left the room, went down the hall, down the stairs, and asked another boy - this one barefoot, wearing well-worn, artfully holey jeans - where he could find Carlotta. He told her Aron had performed admirably, he was very impressed. Then the discreet matter of paying for his evening and leaving the boy a huge tip, and then he was shown into the foyer, given his coat, thanked, and ushered out the door.

The girl who fetched his coat asked if he wanted her to call a cab, and he said no, he would walk. The air was crisper and everything was sharper now that he'd fed, and he wanted to feel the cold breeze in his hair and smell the city asleep.

Aurelian walked all the way home, which took a while, thinking about Aron and thinking about Sam, and glad he'd had a good last visit to Mina's. He was done having sex with other people, with or without feeding. His friends would laugh - most of them, anyway - but he didn't want anyone else. He only wanted Sam, and from now on, Sam was the only person he would have.

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("his penis got diseases from the chumash tribe...." heh. they lived around what's now santa barbara, according to this site.)>