Blood Lust, by retroelectric

Warning: Mature, Blood and Gore, Vampirism

Author’s Note: The story written here is not intended for all to read. It is very mature in content as it deserves to be told, and there are several reasons why immature eyes should not come upon the content.

What rapture the blood brings to a vampire like him. The warm, sometimes sweet elixir - depending on the mortal he drank from, flows out from the wound he would make, the puncture holes created by his sharp dagger-like teeth, and the warmth floods into his mouth. He would savour this moment because it would feel like no other sensation; nothing else can replace this wondrous fluid which he took every single night.

He was the hunter amongst the hunted, but he didn’t look the part - anyone would think he was a mortal man. His pale skin was slightly darkened with the mixture of ashes and his blood rubbed on his face and neck. His too lustrous eyes that would reflect the neon signs and light were concealed with dark glasses, and his usual long blond hair was cropped short that night. Passable enough for a mortal. Striking still, but if a human got too entranced, he would send them away with a little mental suggestion. Ordinary, all this that you see. Now turn around and go back to where you intended to, my luscious morsel of warm flesh and blood.

It was that rapture he craved, the rapture that came with the kill. The ravenousness was about to take him over, and he let the hunger ache in his veins. It was nights like this he didn’t care that he would be taking the evildoer, or the innocent. It was simply that intoxicating elixir all around, no matter the soul which the flesh ensconced it inside.

It would be almost too easy for him to entrance mortals with the lustre of his violet eyes, and for him to feed little mental suggestions into their minds to come to him, into a darker, secluded place in the midst of the town. He never quite fancied the dark alleyways as a feeding ground because the smell of rot and pestilence would be lingering around them, but right then - he couldn’t care so much.

That night he chose a lithe and youthful young girl, an innocent. One look at her and he knew her tender flesh under his cold and hard caress would feel sublime. That softness and pliancy in her limbs. He bared his sharp teeth to her, and the spell was ruefully broken as her glazed eyes stared at him with clarity, fear making her body shake in his embrace.

He sunk his long fangs into her tender neck, and all he could think, all he could fathom was the utter pleasure, completion he attained from this. This was part of what he lived this long lifetime for. Nothing, it seemed, could compare to this. He sucked all the blood from her, feeling the sweet warmth flow onto his tongue and into his body, and he didn’t stop drinking even until her heart stopped beating, and her blood grew colder. She was left as nothing but a husk dry of the blood pumped by her once beating heart, and his hunger was satisfied, but he wasn’t satiated.

He roamed silently like the predator he was, still lusting, craving. At last, he found the perfect victim, a man drunk with alcohol and narcotics in his system, staggering by himself, laughing in inebriation over an unheard joke, one that only he could understand. There was no one around, the vampire noticed, and he took upon the opportunity and slammed the man into the pavement from behind, making him fall.

The drunken man snarled and writhed under him, and he tilted his neck open with his still cold caress, and his pulse was throbbing with fire and fear. When he placed his palm against his mouth the man sunk his teeth down upon it, making him moan slightly at the sudden sting - but sickly pleasurable. He wasted no time with this one. He absolutely tore into his flesh, ripping his throat open with the demonic sharp teeth, the man’s frantic heartbeat rushing in his ears, a fierce roar until it subsided into nothingness, a total calm.

Yet he never pulled away, drinking in his death into his immortal body… a smile left upon his bloodied lips when he withdrew. He staggered away from his kill with the intoxication of the alcohol that coursed now in his system, and he began to laugh and laugh, clutching at his stomach as the insanity overtook him, the vampire loose and wild and in his element. All his animalistic urges finally unleashed that night, finding the great escape the next unfortunate victim would offer him, the only lust he could feel now, insatiable.