Warnings: Yaoi, gore
Disclaimer: The characters belong to someone much greater than I.
Summary: A scholar should be logical as well as intelligent. His mind was a fathomless pit of miserable intellect.
Author's Note: 100 Theme Contest for Writers
Cold intellect was intriguing to someone such as myself. It was astounding that someone so full of life could be as detached as he was. A book was open on his desk with a candle adorning the gentle glow that was already present in his room. I stood on the cobblestone street outside of his window and watched. The streetlights were lit and the paths were only frequented by whores or criminals. None noticed my nondescript appearance with my flaming red locks hidden slightly by the sides of my fashionable coat. They would be the only thing that could possibly identify me since the tattoos upon my face were hidden from any vagrant eyes that might have passed over me.
His blue blood was like a poison I needed. It was dangerous, oh so dangerous, but his taste was tinged with something as addictive as opium. I loved the struggling nobles who fell into my lap so easily. He walked back into the room with his jacket off. All of his under trappings and vestments were still finely pressed but his slate colored hair was ruffled in an unusual way. I wondered, who had mussed his hair? Who had touched something that belonged to me? I would snap their necks. I would watch them bleed on the ground and I would revel in the humiliation of their muscle spasms and bowels releasing. Their embarrassment would sate my rage.
His delicate hands pulled at his hair a little and his collar was strained as he looked at the ceiling. His manicured fingers massaged his temples and I realized at once that he was plagued with a headache. He commonly got those. How human of him
My stealthy position was becoming bothersome because I wanted my saturated lust to be filled. He would bow to me and meet my desires. My footsteps were cold and harsh against the backdrop of the cool London boulevard but as soon as I was near to his door I guarded myself less. Three crisp knocks echoed into his house from my knuckles. He groaned, something silent to any human ears but I could hear, God could I hear. That sigh, that exhalation would turn into more. His cries, moans and stuttered words would prove to send me towards the edge of heaven.
He was the Forbidden Kingdom and I relished every moments the fragile boy shared with me. He would die soon, so soon. I would leave him behind like I had left those before him. When the door opened his blank gaze greeted me without visible reaction. Yet the booming sound of his pounding heart quickened in my ears and my fangs distended of their own freewill. My hunger ignited like fire in my veins in response to his fear.
"Now." It was all I had to say after he motioned me in. He knew everything that was coming, he knew his place up against the wall under the flurry of gropes that suddenly overtook my hands. He was my prize, my toy. He pressed his fingers into the back of my neck and threaded those little hands of his into my hair. He urged my mouth towards his barren neck and I obliged.
The pain he felt was excruciating for a moment and I knew this because his rigidity under me but then he moaned in earnest. I didn't care about his comfort. I took from him until I was barely hungry and then my mouth was on his. Confusion overtook him but he responded as soon as the drugged haze that my bites sent him into lifted. His free hand had begun to run down my body as was normal. The exhilaration from the show he'd put on for me was addicting.
The top layer of his clothing was nearly gone when I yanked him roughly from where he was pinned on the wall and dragged his weak human body down the hall towards his bedroom into which I tossed him. His body crumpled onto the floor and one nearly glowing sapphire eyes shot daggers at me.
He was a masterpiece. Pale hair was dyed nearly silver by the moon coming in from the balcony, his skin was drained to a pearl white color that sharpened the red hues of blood smudged around his lips and neck. The starched white of his dress shirt was wrinkled and his vest hung off of one arm while he huffed in furious pants. He was such a beautiful mess and he truly was mine to ravage. How could anyone refuse a weak, willing, beautiful boy? His shirt was open to reveal his dark chained necklace and the violent rises and falls of his lungs as they slowed marginally.
"Get on the bed." My order was responded to with an air of indignation but it was followed nonetheless and I solaced myself with the knowledge that his pride would be wiped away soon enough. How many times had I dominated him and yet he still held such contempt at the situation? I had mastered the pathetic human and yet he was ungrateful for what I did. As he placed himself in the center of his large mattress I stalked towards him. His eyes followed each movement and my own sight beheld only him in all his flustered glory. A beautiful toy to be broken
His rouge shaded lips were a temptation that I kissed in a suggestively deigned manner. My mouth barely reached his, the moonlight still shown upon his dampened pout as my tongue slid sensually over the curvature of the skin there. I lightly lapped at the blood smudged upon the corners of his lips and traced my skilled organ over his teeth as his mouth opened in too much anticipation.
The crash of our teeth made him whimper with pain but he did not resist as I pressed further, the warmth of him intoxicating. My knees pinned him in place but he still struggled against my kiss after a few moments. I wondered why he bothered. His breathing was ragged as he wished for a reprieve despite his own body's request for more. I pulled away only for a second to allow him oxygen and satisfied myself with licking his jaw.
The pain was like nothing I had felt in such a long time. It was as if my whole being was torn in two pieces for a fraction of a second before both divides convulsed and threaded together impossibly. An icy fire flew through my body over and over as the boy under me plunged his silver dagger into my chest a plethora of times. His eyes were wild with rage and excitement, his smile was sadistic as he watched my strangled screams. My voice failed me while his blood pumped with adrenalin and he fitfully shredded my chest.
Blood soaked the duvet and pillows. Specks of scarlet liquid flew to the walls where they laid in decoration and memory of what had happened. Wish fascination he dug his hands into my chest cavity and his fingers latched around my undead heart. Fear had not been an emotion I had felt very much since my rebirth, yet that boy, that weak human forced anguish to establish itself on my face once more and another feeling akin to pure terror. My body was convulsing out of my control but I tried to grasp him.
I wanted to snap his neck. Who was he, a porcelain doll, to break me? Who did he think he was to shred my skin and hold my heart so poetically in his hand? A gurgling choke erupted from my mouth at last, a sound louder than the rasps of pain and shock. His wide eyes watched my face as it contorted with the movements of his nails over my most sensitive organ. He was drenched in red, his hair was tossed around with madness as he laughed darkly. I had never heard a laugh so sick from someone still alive.
A fraction of a second from death I saw him move to run his tongue over the silver of the blade before he tossed it out of reach and latched his mouth to my gaping wounds where his hand had been moment before. My life, my blood, my immortality he stole. He raped my heart with his tongue and lapped the crimson liquid straight from its source, I damned my unnatural life for preserving my body and forcing me to feel his sickly sweet hands move down my hips. I wished I had been human to die quickly and not have suffered the pain and humiliation of immobilization
yet vampires were made to endure. I was barely conscious as he gulped down what was left of my life source. My veins were ignited with flames and my throat felt barren. I rasped and choked but his cool laughter was all I could hear as he used the back of his forearm to wipe the icy blood away. The clear sapphire of his eyes were fascinatingly clouded with a stone cold purple as the transformation began. He would make a wonderful vampire.
"You're going to die." He said without feeling, as if I had not realized that fact before. The dagger was in his hand once again and before my slowing mind could process what was happening the blade was straight through my heart.