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Warnings: This story has mentions of death, violence, bad language and M/M relationships. If anyone is offended by any of these leave now or don’t hold it to me. If you cringe every time you read a man and a WOMAN together then I suggest you leave also because M/F is featured also. Blood is frequent.
Andrew
Chapter Two
The sun rose quickly in Paris. But the quaint French townhouse Mikhael had flitted into was prepared for such quick ascensions. Like the war was raging outside every nook and cranny was blocked by heavy, thick, velvet material. If he wanted to, Mikhael could stay up both night and day under full protection. But he didn’t want to of course. Like mortals the immortal also needed sleep. If only to enjoy their dreams- which vampires did have.
Ah, vampire. Mikhael loved to call himself and the rest of his coven (though it was not his directly) that word. Everything evil seemed to be locked away in that word. Back in the 17th Century- which Mikhael remembered fondly as a century of thick, lustrous romance and alcohol in mortal flesh- the word ‘vampire’ had made people scream and run about madly. He would say it to his many brothers just to see them spite him more.
However, now if you spoke of that word people scoffed and were utterly unaffected. Ah, but if you showed them the true meaning of that word. The results were much more enjoyable.
But back to the beginning. When he entered the mahogany furnished townhouse the Vampire General was waiting for him. Her slim, curving body laid before Mikhael at the summit of the oak stairs, the ones that greeting him instantly as he locked the heavy iron door behind him upon entering. Her legs were crossed over each other with her dainty toes hidden under plimsolls. The black shoe gave her a terribly childlike atrocity that made her all the more desirable.
Her dark, bronzed skin shimmered under a seductive layer of blood sweat, illuminated even more by the dimly lit stair lanterns Mikhael himself had insisted on installing. He was glad he had done so now as he gazed upon her stretched out form. She vaguely looked like a lounging panther, tired from a healthy meal.
Yes, her face did look full of blood. She was to the brim with rich ecstasy. Mikhael felt the blood he had drunk that night swirl around his veins happily, diffusing from his stomach (the only living organ in his entire body) into his blood system, keeping his face flushed for a few hours.
His eyes travelled up her glitter dusted legs and to the hem of her black skirt, just above her knees with a lacy lining. He moved his head to the side to appreciate the scene more.
She was a nostalgic woman, his General. She lived in the old ways that the stricter, devil worshipping covens had once done in the previous centuries. But he should not speak as if the olden covens did not exist. They still did; and his General was apart of one. She bore upon her skin every stereotype humans had fitted to the vampire kind. Of course, she was nonetheless beautiful.
Most covens had fallen apart in the early 19th century- around 1820- but a few still dotted the maps of the vampire world. There was no law about the covens existing. They had not been ‘wiped out’ by higher powers. Most had simply fallen through because of the new era. More vampires were taking advantage of the mortal inventions. Piling their homes with them and even taking part in mortal leisure activities. Mikhael himself had visited the ‘cinema’ once. He thought it was fascinating and had witnessed his first sunrise in a long time. But he had been surrounded by what he deemed food. The constant desire in that thickly packed room. The air just smelling of blood was exhausting enough for his senses. He had almost gone insane with hunger.
Mikhael himself was not a technology-seeking vampire. Though he did love some mortal contraptions. Like the blender. Crazily enough he could get lost in that stupid nose it emitted like an idiotic dog. Oh, how he loved the buzzing.
His Vampire General did not hate the technology or the ‘new era’ but simply preferred the olden days; when one young victim was shared around some twenty hungry vampires. Each took a little blood and waited for the vibrant organ called the heart to regenerate the mortal blood, so that another could take some more. Mikhael was not patient enough to wait for the regeneration. He preferred to just take 2 or 3 victims a night. Though he agreed that the old coven was certainly more mortal-friendly.
They were where all the vampires dressed like ancient Roman mortals and acted in a similar manner; bathing in the blood of their victims.
Mikhael despised getting dirty.
Her skirt was pleated, with Roman tassels tightened around her waist and hanging down between her thighs. The creased muscles of her taught stomach rippled as she turned to face him, uncovered by clothes.
Like an Egyptian queen she had drawn coal around her eyes to make them appear longer and she had crudely painted her lips a vibrant, scarlet red. Though that may be the blood of a victim whose neck she had sucked. How could she withstand not licking it away if that was true?
Her lips were succulent and plump under the lights and pursed themselves at his arrival as if both excited and uninterested at his entrance. It was 60/40 though and he knew it. She loved him.
He bowed his head to her beauty and she bared her fangs silently, running her tongue across them- careful not to slice her own flesh on their sharpness.
Mikhael found his gut aching to drown in her blood; his veins tightening at the very idea of her hot blood running through him. Ah, but it wasn’t even her blood was it? Well a small fraction was her original mortal blood, but even on her first breath as an immortal her blood was mixed with that of her makers. Never truly whole again was she?
“Elspeth.” He breathed her name gently, letting it greet her in the air. He swept his body down in a mock bow, but he was really playfully sincere in reality.
“My prince,” she bowed back, going along with his antics. As she bowed, her long ebony hair tumbled over her shoulder to cover her metal-armour covered breasts. “Mikhael,” she continued, simply purring his name to an extent that his dead spine shivered with an immortal feeling. How he loved those feelings.
She pulled her head back as she gave him this feeling. Her hair sparkled as if moon-dust had been cast over her.
Mikhael shed his coat and hung it up neatly on an old fashioned hanger. He would have let it drop to the floor but the suit was expensive and glamorous so he didn’t want to damage it or ‘man-handle’ it in anyway. He turned up the collar of his white shirt and straightened out his dark blue waistcoat, acting the air of elegance in the virtually pitch black townhouse.
They could see perfectly well of course.
“My dear Guardian,” he spoke while not looking at her. “Have you been waiting for me all night?” His voice carried a playful adoration in himself and he turned, watching her smile seductively as she rose slowly and began to descend towards where he stood, right at the foot of the stairs.
He knew it was a stupid question. Of course she had been out. Just looked at her! You could feel the fresh blood under her skin. Unless she seduced some poor soul into the home and then disposed of the body in some strange and unjustified way that quite frankly would do Mikhael a lot better if he didn’t know of it.
The smell of her lustful perfume reached him now as she stood but one step above him, an eyebrow raised in a perfect curve over her deep green eyes.
She snorted at his ego. “Even you are not worth the entire night, Mikhael.”
He smiled at her, “I supposed not.”
She gave a curious look to his musing face and gave in a little to his self-adoration. “But perhaps a good portion,” she corrected his previous statement with a smirk that let a pointed fang overlap her bottom lip, dipping into the blood lining she had upon it.
She slipped her bronzed arms over his strong shoulders and pulled him up to her, so her scent was undoable and he had a hard time resisting sinking his fangs into her neck and feeding on her thick blood until that hunger within him exploded.
“What did my Caretaker do tonight, pray tell? On this night of all nights?” he asked, his lips against her skin, letting his voice vibrate of her veins. He moaned as he heard her stolen pulse echo in his head. How foolish he was to be hungry after eating plentiful mortal lives like they were only appetisers. No appreciation for life.
Elspeth lapsed into a comfortable desire, her pulse quickening as if to strengthen Mikhael’s hunger.
“A young boy,” she said breathlessly as Mikhael laid a soft kiss to her neck. She arched her back as he ran his cold fingers over her warm, blood filled flesh. With the soft statement Mikhael feared she knew of his encounter outside and how he wanted to encounter the young male again, but she continued on without the slightest hint at that incident. “The Master brought a young boy to the coven for us. He was all blonde hair and blue eyes. Deep, frightened blue eyes. We drained him dry after 6 hours and Dante the sympathetic soul, brought him back to us. Oh!” She moaned loudly suddenly and tightened her told around his neck. “But his blood Mikhael. Like honey and milk. It makes my stomach boil just to think of the taste. And his memories!” Another shrill moan. “Of such gentle things and his last breath was mine, Mikhael! Mine! The feeling was orgasmic!”
Mikhael held her writhing form close, his tongue tracing the skin of her neck to perhaps faintly taste the gushing blood beneath. He mumbled in satisfaction as he tasted the dots of blood sweat upon her skin that had come about by simply being in the stuffy hallway.
Yes, he could feel the underlying pleasure himself; pulsing in his head with a pressure beating at the exact time intervals that Elspeth’s excited heart was thumping. Ecstasy …she would allow him a soft drink would she not? Of course. She loved him. Even if she never admitted or told this to him. He just knew, as the mortals sometimes said.
Her sensual touch gave everything away, even if she no longer had fingerprints: her coven had long ago burnt them off. Now her palms were a mass of melted and scarred flesh. Strangely enough it had never made her seem any the less beautiful or desirable.
But even so…Mikhael did not love her as she loved him. In fact, he wasn’t even sure if she loved him fully. Maybe she just loved his stubbornness or his pride; but certainly not everything about him. In fact, some of his decisions made her stomach turn in disgust and anger. He saw her as a best friend perhaps; sometimes as a worst enemy; sometimes he didn’t want to be near her to even categorise what she was to him.
He took one last breath of her scent and released the grip his fingers had obtained around her thin waist. She did not take the hint as quickly as he wanted her to and arched her back into his chest, pressing her thighs in-between his legs, throwing her head back with a laugh, her hair slipping down to touch the ground; against the darkness of the hallway it appeared invisible.
He was forced to raise his hands to grab onto her thin fingers as they looped around his shoulders, and he pulled them away, perhaps fiercer than necessary, and slowly pushed them away at an angle, starting from his heart. Elspeth’s legs slipped further and further between his legs, her hair pooling and coiling like a snake on the ground as she was lowered.
As the bare skin on her back touched the cold floor she let out a delighted cry, her fingers shivering in Mikhael’s grasp. He moved over her himself, the blond hair of one side dancing in his vision, staining her image with a smear of peroxide.
She opened her eyes rather quickly and a taunting smirk was stitched onto her plump, lush lips. Mikhael lowered himself a bit more, his knees on the ground around either side of her waist, his hands still connected with hers as they now lay across her breast, rising and falling with every supernatural breath.
He raised an eyebrow at her expression. “To what secrets do we owe this look?” he asked, pushing more of his faint Italian accent onto her.
She shrugged. “Manners of business, my prince… one might consider it a festival of some sorts. Where family and friends…come…to-” she paused, sticking a tongue out to salivate her lips, even though they did not need it, clearing them of the blood, “Where people come to meet one another after long years away.” She showed her teeth in her last smile.
Mikhael’s eyes widened. “A census?”
Elspeth nodded with her shoulders and not her head or face, the thick sleeve of her armour cracking as it fell, showing a lustrous white sheen she had been gifted with during her days in Africa.
Mikhael’s hands loosened on hers and he brought them to his face to brush his hair back behind his hair. He shivered, finally noticing how cold his hands were. If she were telling the truth, then Mikhael would have something to look forward to rather than just the white haired child who hadn’t noticed him as much as he would have liked to be noticed.
A frown came from no where, accompanied by a harsh voice and bared fangs against her wrist; a crushing grip she seemed only to notice with a misty smile. “Who is coming first?” he demanded.
She raised her head a little. “No need for such ferociousness, my prince. I will gladly give all details.” She waited until he had retracted his fangs and lessened his grip a little before talking. Her voice echoed out over the room so she need not repeat anything, “The coven that I have been dedicated to over the years told me that another census is upon us. Over the next three months my assigned group will gather, and we will all have fun and festivities while I interview each and every one with another sent from the Princess. We’ll gather all the details of their travelling and, if needed, may resign ranks.” She pushed him off her hips a little and sat up proudly, flicking her hair over her shoulders.
“Oh, as for you previous question, they will come in rank order as they always do,” she gave him a cheeky smile, “Isn’t that lucky for you and your ‘family’?”
Mikhael ignored her little taunt and smiled widely. “Why, yes. In fact it is.”
He gathered himself and touched her lips in a raped kiss before jumping off of her and starting up the grand stairs. As he reached the top he turned and looked over his shoulder, “I’m going for a bath. Turn on the hot water will you? I plan to look my very best for my ‘family’”
Elspeth bared her fangs playfully at such a rude request (she was the Vampire General and not him!) but complied. She reminded herself as he disappeared from sight to make the water just a tad too hot…just to teach him a lesson.
Bra-Two
