1 Blue Lagoon

"I'll take a Blue Lagoon."

Svane Grímsson's ears perked up at the order as he sat at the last seat of the bar. He'd been canvasing the joint since the real fun began around midnight. The Quarter was a sea of people on any given night, but it was Mardi Gras weekend, and people were packed like sardines in a smoky tin can. And while the holiday brought out easy targets for pick-pocketing and other petty offenses, Svane was looking for a major score.

What kind of geezer orders a Blue Lagoon on a night like this?

The geezer in question sat one barstool away from him, a feathered fedora sitting on the sticky wooden bartop next to him. Under the dim lighting and smokey haze, Svane couldn't help but note how frail the man looked. He seems to be getting older before my eyes. Wrinkles lined the man's hollow cheeks that appeared ashen in the strobe lights from the makeshift stage behind them.

"Thank you young man," he heard the geezer say in a gravely tone, large knobby hand shaking as it reached for the tall drink.

Thank you God or whoever above! Svane took a celebratory sip from his own drink, savoring the bite of the hard liquor. I couldn't have asked for a better target!

Too absorbed at his own cleverness, Svane missed the older man's steady gaze on him.

Filthy and arrogant. Brontes Nicolau sighed and felt his lungs rattle with his breath. It'd been a month since his last meal ended their contract. Brontes demanded that all his meals be single and completely unattached from any existing family. Long ago he'd learned the young ones weren't reliable due to the inevitable day they "fell in love."

As such, for the last two centuries Brontes refined his pallet further by only going for the more seasoned ones. However, the well had seemed to dry up and he refused to settle for anything less than perfection. But as friends of long ago warned him, my need for perfection will be the death of me.

He sipped at the tasteless drink, keeping an eye on the young thing sitting in the corner. Brontes wadded through the chattering surface thoughts, trying to gauge threat level. In his weakened state, even the weakest of humans could end his existence. However, the distinct sound of an empty stomach gurgling gave Brontes pause.

We both hunger…

A sudden chill raced down Svane's spine as he sucked the remaining contents of his drink dry. It was if claws dug into his back and each second that passed they dug deeper. Did some prick spike my drink? Svane's skin burned hot under his leather jacket as the feeling of being torn open heightened.

And then it stopped.

What the fuck? Svane would have thought he imagined it if it weren't for how sensitive his skin felt as he shifted on the barstool. In his periphery he caught movement and turned as the old man slowly rose from his seat. The older man threw a wad of cash down before walking with measured footsteps toward the door.

Svane hastily did the same, blending into the crowd before the bartender could notice his unpaid tab. He somehow managed to keep track of the stooped man through the crowd and exited only a few steps behind his target.

Yes, yes follow little one. Brontes cooed in his head, saliva starting to pool at the corners of his mouth. He'd been able to ascertain that there was promise in the unripe fruit stumbling behind him. However, the nibble he planned to take would be bitter and sour, which put a slight damper on the occasion.

But Brontes couldn't wait any longer. As much as he lamented his existence, he also despised the thought of dying so pathetically. And vampires were by definition death adverse. He felt his teeth sharpen to fine points as he turned down the dark alley he parked his car.

The owner of the bar had known Brontes since he was a young boy and often helped Brontes find his meals. The bartender also let him sleep in the upstairs flat when the weight of his empty estate pushed him to thoughts of suicide. Which for a vampire of his age, was damn near impossible.

Here is as good a place as any.

Brontes deliberately slowed his steps as he picked up on the resolve in the little one's thoughts. How foolish they tend to be.

Svane reached for his pocket knife and in the blink of any eye found that very knife held at his throat as his back slammed into the brick wall of the building. Fucking shit!

"You know what they say my boy, do not judge a book by its cover."

The knife at his throat was replaced with something hot before Svane could make out the identity of his prey-turned-attacker. The heat seared into the sensitive flesh there and he subconsciously gripped at the other man's shoulders. "I'm sorry dude, so just let—"

Such a bitter taste, Brontes thought as his meal abruptly stopped his begging. Even so, there was something refreshing in its taste. It should only take a week for it to taste pure. He could feel thrashing underneath him, something he tried to avoid under normal circumstances. However, Brontes was too ravenous to care.

Am I… going to die? Svane thrashed against the leech at his neck but his head felt like a helium balloon and he couldn't concentrate anymore. His muscles morphed into jelly and somehow the old man caught him with ease.

Damn it… all.

Brontes forced himself to stop drinking the minute the thrashing ceased, his meal's pulse fluttering weakly against his lips. Quite the hearty one. He smiled despite himself and easily lifted the dead weight in his arms. He could feel the definition returning to his muscles and his organs starting their normal function once more.

"To be alive…" He mused, walking out of the bar, out to his car hidden from obvious view.

At least the spare room is already prepared. He secured his cargo in the backseat before getting behind the wheel to drive off toward the rural side of town where his estate awaited him.

WAKE UP!

The command jolted Svane out of his slumber. He felt glued to whatever surface he lied on, unable to move even his head. What… happened?

"You tried to thieve from me because I was an easy target," the voice that woke him up said lowly. "What a miscalculation on your part."

Who… is this?

The face that appeared above him could only be described as beautifully rugged: carmel skin and a sharp jaw that could cut glass covered with dark stubble with a slight dimpled chin, high cheekbones and a straight nose under wide set eyes. Said eyes were citrine in color, gazing down at him in undisguised disgust. His thick eyebrows rose slightly. "You appear to be dumber than I thought."

The god-like man disappeared from Svane's view and his head subconsciously tried to follow him. This time he was able to move his head, but found himself staring at a cherry painted wall.

Desperate times did call for this but… Brontes could only sigh to himself. Now that he was in peak condition once again, he found a heavy stone of regret settle in his stomach. He considered wiping away every trace of himself from his food and letting it go, but the underlying flavor he'd tasted, even under the filth, still coated his tongue.

"If you agree to my terms, you will not want for anything." Brontes appeared in front of his food's eyes once more. "Or do you wish to go back to thieving your way through life until someone shoots or stabs you dead?"

Well when you put it like that… but even so, "Who the hell are you?"

"You really do have such a foul mouth."

He disappeared again and Svane's heart stopped beating at the utter silence that seemed to suddenly fill the room.

You do not need to know my name. The resonant voice echoed inside Svane's mind and he felt a bead of sweat form at his forehead. It felt as if something were lodged in his skull. But I can tell you are a stubborn one so call me Mr. Nicolau.

"Are you… that old man from before?" Svane didn't know what made him ask the question, but his gut told him that the man in front of him and the one from before were one in the same. And that he'd stepped his foot in it. Big time.

"It seems you are not a complete dullard." The face appeared again, this time citrine eyes gazing down at him in disdain.

Why do I want to impress him anyway?

Brontes watched his food ripen even more in front of him as it struggled with the impulse to please him. Our compatibility is greater than I thought.

"Are you ready to hear my terms or not? I can easily find another."

Svane's natural impulse was to give some flippant response and demand he be released, but for once he hesitated before responding to someone. He knew that if he responded as usual, this… being would get rid of him without a second thought. I don't want to be cast aside anymore.

Despite these feelings, he still managed to retort, "If it's that easy, why are you even bothering to keep me here?"

"You shall be provided three meals a day, a place to stay free of charge, and given a limitless credit card. In return I ask that you follow every single one of my orders. At all times. No exceptions. While I will let you roam about, you are forbidden from any and all romantic and sexual attachments." His savior leaned down, so close their noses almost touched. "Do you agree?"

There's a catch here. Svane closed his eyes against those unearthly eyes to try and think, but he could still see that disdainful gaze. "T-there's something else you're not telling me."

"Think back to how you got here. You put up quite the fight, but the strength of a vampire is unparalleled. Especially for such a lowly thing as yourself." This time, frigid skin grazed his own and a shiver scattered down his spine. "I need your blood."

The word "blood" triggered something inside him and Svane's neck throbbed as images of a dark figure devouring his neck surfaced. He'd been following the old man and instead been attacked. So… my blood made him…

"Yes your blood revived me to this state; just as your kind wastes away without nourishment, so does my kind."

"How often?" Why am I even considering this?

"Once a month."

You can't be serious, the rational part of Svane wailed at him. It still failed to stop him from saying, "I agree to your terms."

As if by magic, Svane could feel and move his limbs at free will once more. He sat up and kept his eyes on Mr. Nicolau in front of him. "Is there a contract to sign or something?"

"In the morning. For now, follow me. It is well past your bedtime."

In the blink of an eye Mr. Nicolau opened a door and despite himself, Svane walked forward without taking a look back.

Such simple beings. Brontes watched his new food source walk further into his web with a rare smile. The older ones tended to ask more questions and often had the gall to negotiate terms. It was refreshing for the change in pace.

"Where you woke is the feeding chamber; the door shall remain locked until the designated day of the month. Here is where you will sleep. You are free to change the room in any way you like, seeing as it is your home now." Brontes gestured in the general direction of the room. "You have your own bathroom and backward access."

Svane only heard half of what Mr. Nicolau said, mouth falling open in the bedroom before him. It was large enough to be an entire apartment alone, the Victorian style four-poster canopy bed the main feature of the room. He must be an old vampire, Svane thought idly as his eyes moved to the adjacent wall that was one large window, partially covered by dense dark curtains.

"Although, behind the backyard is a dense forest."

Svane's gut twisted at the unspoken threat, but kept walking forward, eyes now on another door beside the bed.

"That is your personal bathroom. I shall send for some basic clothes for you tomorrow but there should be some leftover clothes that are suitable. Once you have your bank card, feel free to buy more items if you wish." The vampire was suddenly in front of him and opening the bathroom door.

Rather than a sterile bathroom full of white and grey, a larger counter top made quartz and the color of taupe gleamed under orange lighting to his right and stretched. Mahogany doors lined the wall to his left which he assumed was the closet. Directly in front of him was a spa style bathtub next to a shower that rather than a door, had glass to provide separation from the bathtub.

"You should have everything you need to shower. I will have one of the maids bring you your evening tea along with a snack." Cool breath fell over ear and Svane jumped at Mr. Nicolau's closeness. "If your plate is not outside your door within the hour, you may not like the consequences."

Then, he vanished.

He can't mean I have to follow every little thing he says… Svane laughed at the thought while shedding his clothes to the marble floor. He was expecting it to be ice cold, but somehow heat seemed to radiate from the surface. I'm going to soak in that bathtub until I look like a raisin.

Brontes shook his head at the ridiculous thoughts still reaching him loud and clear. His nails sharpened to claws as he noted his food's determination to defy his orders already. I have been bored as of late though, he mused, heading to the kitchen where his cook and housekeeper Mrs. Smith awaited his instructions. I hope the regret does not taint the taste…

Svane fell asleep as soon as he'd eaten the assorted fruit plate, followed by the most bitter tea he'd ever tasted. Laying on the mattress was like falling into melted butter and he didn't even bother with pulling the comforter back. And in no time, he was dreaming.

"I feel you will have many dreams like this."

Even here I can't escape him? Svane turned toward the voice and found he couldn't move a muscle again. Only this time, he could move his head, and in so doing found that he was bound by both ankles and wrists.

He lay on a bed, though it wasn't as comfortable as the one in his new bedroom. Where is this?

"That does not concern you."

Something whistled through the air before making contact with Svane's upper thigh. Somehow the blinding white pain didn't wake him from the surreal dream he found himself in.

"Fuck!"

Slap! Slap!

Svane's legs buzzed with pain and tears burned the corner of his eyes.

"I told you about following my orders, did I not?" Mr. Nicolau placed whatever object he'd been using down at Svane's restrained feet. "Hopefully this teaches you a lesson."

From thin air a small bottle appeared in one of Mr. Nicolau's hands, and something circular and transparent looking in the other. Is that a flesh—

Darkness overcame him and fear seeped its way into him and he squirmed against his restraints. "O-okay I promise I'll listen to everything you say!"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. It's just a blindfold."

Something cool dripped onto his lower stomach, trailing down to his flaccid dick. Svane's ass cheeks clenched as a cold hand gripped him firmly. "W-w-woah, what are—"

Something snug and unbearably warm slid over him and by the time it made its way to the hilt, Svane was rock hard. It is a fleshlight!

"I forgot to mention the other half of my intimacy clause." Mr. Nicolau moved the toy up and down his shaft shallowly, and Svane's hips bucked at the friction.

"W-what are—uhh!"

Mr. Nicolau shoved the toy down to the hilt again, twisting it slightly before sliding it back up to his leaking tip.

"You are not allowed to climax. No matter what."

Despite the statement, Mr. Nicolau continued moving the toy up and down with increasing speed. It had been a while for Svane and he felt himself dangerously close to the edge. The bed shifted slightly underneath him and he felt fingers at one of his nipples. Two pinched the hardening bud there, twisting as the fleshlight swallowed him whole again.

"I-I-If you keep-p doing that I'll—"

Svane awoke just as his balls tightened for release. But when he looked down, rather than seeing an erection, his dick was as flaccid as it was when he went to sleep. I still feel so...

A loud knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts. "U-uh yes?"

The door opened and Mr. Nicolau walked in wearing a jet black three piece suit and silver tie. I guess vampires being attractive also wasn't a myth.

"I hope you are well rested," Mr. Nicolau said, sitting at the edge of the bed. "Here is the written contract. Leave it outside your door no later than seven this evening; that should be enough time for you to read." He placed the stack of papers gently on the bed, and his citrine eyes went from cool to liquid heat. "I think you understand what might happen if you do not do as you're told now?"

Svane flinched unconsciously and Mr. Nicolau nodded to himself. "The first ten pages detail what is expected of you throughout the week." He rose slowly, and Svane noticed the skin under his eyes appeared bruised.

He opened his mouth and then shut it abruptly. You're really gonna ask that… asshole if he's alright?

"You should start reading that contract sooner rather than later." Mr. Nicolau walked with measured footsteps toward the room door. Before shutting it behind him, he peeked his head back in.

"Pay special attention to the sex clause."

Brontes closed the door softly before leaning against the adjacent wall, breathing heavily. It appears I misjudged my starvation. Given the events he'd facilitated in the dreamscape and their obvious effect on his food, it looked as if it'd be in prime condition a little sooner than he'd initially thought.

Down the hall he could hear Mrs. Smith lighting the stove. Like most vampires, Brontes couldn't stand the smell of cooked food. Normally he'd retreat to his sealed basement master bedroom, but because his new meal's thoughts were just as enticing as its blood, he decided to go to his study instead.

He whistled softly to himself as he heard the flurry flipping of paper and explicatives from down the hall.

Vampires are fucking crazy, Svane thought helplessly as his eyes scanned the words binding him to such a creature. Everything was planned out for him, to the very second of every day. His diet was strictly controlled except for the day after feeding, where he would be allowed to eat whatever he wanted until eight that evening.

I even have to work out everyday. Though, when he thought about the clause he hated the most it made sense. Svane had thought the vampire was pulling his leg in his dream. Still can't believe he can just read my thoughts… But even that paled in comparison to the ban on orgasming.

Like any other normal hot blooded man, Svane could only go so long before becoming pent up. And no amount of "exercise" would make the need for release go away. To make matters worse, he was only allowed sexual gratification feeding day.

I'm not fucking you or getting fucked by you geezer! Svane attempted to put force behind his thoughts but didn't know if he was successful. What still made him reach for the pen Mr. Nicolau left behind were the last few pages detailing his benefits.

It'll be nice to not worry about my next meal or where I'll sleep. Svane signed his name quickly before he could change his mind and placed it on the bed before standing.

Now that that is settled, you have ten minutes before you are late for breakfast. I am sure I do not need to remind you of the consequences of being tardy?

Somehow Mr. Nicolau sounded colder inside Svane's head, and he gripped at his head as if experiencing brain freeze. I got it, I got it.

"Jackass," he muttered while walking to his new personal spa.

You know vampires can hear everything?

Svane felt his cheeks flush but bit his lip from saying something aloud, forcing himself to start thinking of anything else to prevent the vampire from catching onto his embarrassment. As the contract specified, he brushed his teeth with some brand of toothpaste he'd never seen before, but it tasted like any other toothpaste. He flossed, wincing when he reached his molars.

Can't believe I have to shower twice a day now. Although, when he looked around the sparkling bathroom again, any indignation he felt slipped away. He turned the knob toward the specific setting the contract stated and despite himself he felt his mind wander to the half-dream from the night before.

Standing under the tepid water, Svane couldn't resist touching himself. Think about something else, think about something else. But even as he forced himself to think about his favorite television shows, he steadily moved his hand along his length. The friction along with knowing he was doing something that he wasn't supposed to had brought him to the edge, and he rubbed the tip for the final blow… only for his boner to suddenly deflate.

I still…

Svane's fist clenched at his sides, and he let the steady water pressure beat into him. Mr. Nicolau had done something to him and he knew instinctively that he could rub his dick raw but he wouldn't be able to cum. The realization depressed him and he took his time showering, wondering if he'd just signed his ass away.

Such predictable creatures. Brontes could only shake his head at the murky aura that seemed to seep from down the hall. This always happened with the young ones, yet another reason he avoided them. But, if he didn't do something for the time being, his meal would sour beyond repair.

Mrs. Smith, please add a small plate of dark chocolate, as well as the laptop. Brontes didn't quite trust leaving the car keys yet, so he settled on the next best thing that usually cheered them up: spending his money.

It pays to be alive for centuries. Brontes couldn't help but smirk at his own poor joke, though it was largely true. His first life he'd been born to slave parents in ancient Greece. By the time his good looks found him, it was too late to save his long dead parents with the favor the priestess showed him.

She taught him many things, the most important lesson being about currency and what to do with it once it was in your possession. Brontes had thought his way out would be becoming a merchant with her support, only to have a new life forced upon him after his thirty-third birthday "celebration."

Am I supposed to eat this laptop too?

The sarcastic thought brought Brontes back to the present day and he rolled his eyes. If you don't want to put that credit card to use, then I'll tell Mrs. Smith to—

The flurry of "no's" his meal bombarded him with induced a dull ache behind his eyelids.

QUIET! There is no need to shout like the animal you are. Brontes took in a deep breath in the absolute silence following his reprimand to calm himself. I am going out for the day, so if you need anything have Mrs. Smith give you my contact information if she cannot answer your questions. By ordering from that laptop specifically, everything should show up before the end of the day.

Brontes considered waiting for a reply but cut the mental connection between them for the time being. I still have to come up with a suitable punishment later…

"Not this shit again!" Svane couldn't help but let the words slip out of his mouth.

As was described in their contract, he had been in bed by 11 PM. In fact, he'd turned in early to show his appreciation for the pile of new items he'd bought, some of which still sat unopened in his room.

So, when he'd opened his eyes to the same dream bedroom as the night before, his frustration got the better of him. At least this time I'm not completely restrained.

Only Svane's arms were tied between his back with rope that somehow managed to send the physical sensation of pain with each fidget of his body. He'd been stupid in thinking the shopping spree and his favorite candy meant that what he attempted to do in the shower went unnoticed, but his presence in this damned dresmscape reminded him just how foolish he'd been.

"So what are you gonna do old—"

Something round and hard interrupted him, and his teeth butted up against hard plastic. This is a fucking ball gag!

The ball was on the larger side, prying his mouth open in a way that prevented him from being able to voice his protests. Before he could find a way to verbally respond, Svane found himself laying down on his stomach over Mr. Nicolau's knees. It was in that moment that he also realized much like the night before, he was naked.

"It seems you still do not understand your position."

How can a hand feel so cold, even in a dream? Svane was shocked at the chill circling his bare backside that he failed to fully process what this meant.

Smack!

Drool spilled from the sides of Svane's mouth and his backside felt as if someone had set it ablaze. The nails on his bound hands dug into his palms from the searing pain and he strained for breath.

"You are so sensitive here," the vampire seemed to be talking to himself but Svane shouted against the hard object in his mouth.

"Pipe down!" Svane's other ass cheek seared with pain, though far less severe than the other. "If you drool onto my shoes, this will seem like child's play."

I-I can't…

Brontes sighed, more frustrated with himself than the struggling body that lay over him. Usually he could sense just how much "toughening up" his food could take. Something about this specimen threw his senses off kilter. Both being thrown off and being aware of it made him more irritable.

"Here." With little ceremony he extended the nail on his pointer finger and sliced at his forearm before holding it out for his prey to see. "Drink once I remove the ball gag."

I haven't felt this feeling in some time, Brontes sighed softly as a hot slick mouth latched on his skin and sucked at his blood seeping out from the gash.

While his food got its fill of him, he reached for the lotion he usually had nearby for scenes like these and squirted some on the glaring red flesh. Brontes watched as the body tensed at his touch and something akin to regret lodged in his chest. But he wasn't one to apologize, especially when it was his food's fault they were there in the first place.

Vampire blood tastes sweet, Svane thought as Mr. Nicolau rubbed something that numbed his stinging flesh.

Any pain evaporated and Svane wasn't sure how much of the relief came from whatever the vampire was rubbing him with or the blood, but tears made hot streaks down his cheeks in relief. He'd never been on the receiving end of such a punishment, and whenever he'd spanked his lovers he'd always been considerate of the line between pleasure and pain.

Wait, lovers?

Brontes paused before continuing his treatment. He couldn't help but recall his youth again and how he too began to think of the priestess as his lover after he'd unknowingly drank her blood mixed with his wine. It was a "perk" of being a vampire—feeding your prey made it more likely they'd feed you without hesitation. He hated treating his food this way and usually allowed natural trust to build before officially sealing their contract by feeding them after he took his first fill of them.

But this one is determined to fight me.

Svane finally let go of the vampire's arm, licking his lips clean before closing his eyes. He felt sleepy and nuzzled into the hard legs supporting his weight. "I get it Mr. Nicolau... " Bitterness still colored the rest of his response. "... I won't disobey you again."

Svane spent the next two weeks steering clear of Mr. Nicolau and following his laid out schedule to a T. Even so, there were a few nights the vampire still appeared in his dreams. However, rather than doling out pain he brought Svane close to the edge many times with an assortment of sex toys. Like before though, he couldn't cum no matter how blue his balls turned. But the small fear the vampire had awoken in him refused to be put to rest, even though his body had begun to long for that cold touch.

The day before the day, Svane woke to a dead silent house. For once he didn't hear Mrs. Smith cooking away in the kitchen but on the nightstand table next to him were car keys and a note. I can… leave?

Svane expected to hear a thunderous reply but was met with only silence. With some extra pep in his step, he headed to his bathroom for the morning shower. This time, he took a long look in the mirror and blinked in surprise at the man staring back at him.

His silver hair glittered under the warm lighting, his ends now reached his hips. Svane had always been well built, but now his muscles seemed more prominent, flexing his chest in arms in wonder. He'd never looked so healthy in his twenty-seven years and he couldn't help the self-satisfied grin that flitted across his lips; even his skin was glowing!

It hasn't been all bad I guess… He washed his body mindlessly as he thought about the previous "dream" where Mr. Nicolau seemed to be gentler. It was by far the most erotic of the nightly dream visits as Mr. Nicolau deepthroated him while toying with his asshole and... Svane felt his neck heat up.

His watch beeped at him and he hurriedly finished rinsing off before hopping out the shower. After his second time being late from his morning shower and resulting punishments, he'd invested in one of those fancy watches with a time and used it for most of his activities. He gave himself a buffer of five minutes for times like these where his thoughts wondered.

He opened his now full closet, wondering if dressing up in the $500 suit he bought for the hell of it would be too much on a Tuesday morning. Eh, why the hell not?

Once fully dressed, Svane decided to spray some cologne as well. Might as well go all out.

The note had said he could eat out as long as he stayed within the parameters of his specified diet, but Svane didn't want to chance it and headed to the kitchen for leftovers.

I wonder if he'll come see me tonight? He's been looking… older lately.

The wrinkles that lined his face when they first met had returned over time and even in his dreams the vampire seemed slower as if weighed by his age. Does not drinking enough blood really age him like that or…?

Svane shook his head as he finished eating the porridge and bowl of mixed fruit from dinner the night before. It wasn't his place to question what was going on with Mr. Nicolau's appearance. He had the day to himself it seemed and he would enjoy it, damn it.

The keys turned out to belong to a midnight black Porsche sitting in the five-car garage next to the large, renovated antebellum-style home. Even as excitement coursed through his veins, his mind lingered on the last sentence of Mr. Nicolau's note. Please take care of my body please.

So rather than peeling out of the driveway like what he'd planned when he originally read of car privileges in the contract, he carefully pulled out onto the road. Apparently the car had voice recognition and Svane cleared his throat before saying, "Directions to Sutherland's."

The screen next to the dashboard flashed and a voice began to parrot directions. He is beyond loaded. Despite himself he began to wonder what Mr. Nicolau did for a living. And if he's a vampire, isn't he unable to go out in the daylight?

Svane had never thought to ask, but again felt it wasn't his place to know that information. At least not now. He knew Mr. Nicolau still didn't trust him all the way, just as Svane felt hesitant to give himself completely to the vampire. But he had less than 24 hours to find some peace in his decisions.

Who are you kidding? His darker, more pathetic side of him grouched. You like not having to think and having everything provided for you. So what if you gotta give a little blood? You've done more for less!

But you're more than just a blood bag!

Though he agreed, the truth of it was exactly as the darker part of him said; he liked being taken care of, not worrying about his next meal or where he would sleep. And sure, it was more than a little blood, but he had the distinct impression that Mr. Nicolau wouldn't do more to him without permission.

The rest of the drive Svane could only think about the next day. He was supposed to wake an hour earlier than usual and eat whatever spread Mrs. Smith prepared before heading to Mr. Nicolau's chambers at the opposite end of the property.

Stop thinking about it!

He was ruining his "vampire free" day but it was like his brain was a dog with a bone. Even as he pulled into rundown music hall, all he could see was the vampire's beautiful, young face crumpling into the wrinkled and lined face he'd first seen almost a month ago. I guess blood really is that important…

The chaotic thumping of drums underscored by someone plucking at the bass finally snapped him out of thoughts of his mysterious "benefactor." He'd chosen Sutherland's because he'd missed the dive bar and live music. The day gigs weren't known for being the best, but the vampire had only given him until 5:00 p.m. While he had endless funds at his fingertips, he knew he didn't have the freedom yet to buy tickets to outings like concerts.

Not freedom, but trust… He thought about Mr. Nicolau's aging face and for the first time he realized the implications of an immortal being suddenly aging.

Svane hit something hard, stumbling slightly before righting himself and tossing a glare at the body he'd run into. The other man, clearly a college kid, flipped him the bird before stumbling past him to the parking lot.

The physical jolt did the trick though and now all Svane could focus on was the upbeat tune coming from the darkened entrance. He nodded along to the beat subconsciously as he headed up the steps in the entryway toward the main floor.

The early afternoon sunlight filtered in through the windows behind the wooden stage at the back of the main room, though it appeared darker due to the smoke clouding the air and the boarded up windows on the sides of the room.

Svane normally liked to sit at the bar and drink a few drinks with assorted liquor in them and then find a body to go home with. This time, he walked toward one of the few tables that withstood the rough housing of Sutherland's rowdy guests and sat in one of the creaky chairs.

He felt eyes on him and did his best to focus on the band of 3 playing on the stage. Svane was a regular and some of the others were a little nosy. His absence had probably been discussed daily and now with his sudden appearance in fancy clothes sparked the rumor mill.

Let them talk.

Eyes bored into him the rest of the afternoon, but Svane was able to block out most of them by focusing more on the vibrant music coming from the stage. Every group that had played was a breath of fresh air to him and he found himself wanting to stay longer.

"On the house."

Svane jumped at the sudden bell-like voice at his ear. A large pitcher with pink liquid was placed in front of him with a bendy straw. Normally he'd jump to drink, but felt the weight of the setting sun and his growling stomach prevent him from accepting it.

"Thanks Lolly, but gotta go!"

He had brought cash with him and left large tips in both the band and bar jar before making a hurried exit. Svane had luckily set an alarm for the last possible second he could leave Sutherland's and make it back home on time. However, he sped a bit once he hit the back roads to make up time he'd gotten stuck in unexpected traffic.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

The final alarm rang as Svane pulled into the garage crookedly. Damn it! He had planned to sneak in through the side door of his bedroom, but seeing Mr. Nicolau's BMW parked neatly when it'd been missing earlier that day told him sneaking around would be useless.

Still, Svane couldn't help but open the door leading into the house. He shut the light off behind him before slowly turning the knob so when he pushed closed it wouldn't click. He could faintly hear Mrs. Smith in the kitchen and he remembered that tonight's meal was meat, something Mr. Nicolau's prescribed a diet rarely had. It was another reminder that tomorrow he'd be drained of most of his blood.

"I think you should return him."

Svane stopped walking, shocked at Mrs. Smith's raised voice. She'd only spoken a few sentences to him here and there, and each time she'd been soft spoken. Is he going to… punish her? The thought made him want to laugh though his stomach twisted at the thought.

"María, if I do not do something, I will waste away for real. And who will pay for your expensive habits?" For once, Svane could hear Mr. Nicolau's footsteps and he wondered if he were walking away or closer to Mrs. Smith.

"I've told you before Brontes, just take from me instead until you find someone more suitable."

"The Smith family is full of stubborn women." Mr. Nicolau laughed, a deep and thunderous sound that sent all the blood rushing downstairs. I've never heard him laugh, much less seen him smile.

"My mommom and ma told me all about how your thirst forces you into a corner every now and then. So, return the boy. I'm on the same diet anyways!"

"María…" This time Mr. Nicolau sounded weary. "You know that is not possible." A long sigh. "Plus, the… boy as you call him, has…"

Svane strained his ears in the sudden silence, waiting for either one to speak. The sudden slam of a cabinet almost made him yelp aloud and give away his position, that is if the vampire didn't already know. If he did, he wouldn't be talking so much in the open.

"He's going to mess up, that dingy boy, and then you'll starve and look like you do now. And it happens so much faster, your aging! Brontes please, before you get hooked on him like all the others."

"It will work out, I promise." He heard the sound of weighted footsteps walking in his direction and Svane ducked into the nearest doorway. "That auction for that title… what, was it, Hey Class President, ends in twenty minutes. Are you sure you don't want to bid higher? Last I checked it should be within your 'budget.'" The last part was said with good-natured mirth as Mr. Nicolau walked down the hall toward and then past him.

Rather than standing at his usual height well over six feet, the vampire's shoulders stooped forward like that of an old man's. He seemed to place most of his weight on his left side which seemed to slow him down and add sound to his footsteps.

Has he always had a cane…?

Brontes could faintly sense his food's presence, but due to his weakened state he couldn't focus, and all he heard was static. In his wretched state, he could see why the woman had gotten so agitated. But, he'd already selected his meal of choice and the thought of tasting that underlying freshness from the blood that had been clouded by filth.

"Though it would be nice…" He mused aloud.

Svane woke with a start from his first dreamless night since signing the contract. He had anticipated waking up in that same dreamscape, tied down or in some other uncomfortable position with Mr. Nicolau looking on ready to exact whatever punishment he saw fit.

What if he's too weak?

The question stopped him cold from throwing the comforter off his legs. If he gets that weak, how much blood will he need? Can he last another full month?

Knock! Knock!

The door opened and the object of his thoughts strode into the room, albeit slowly. Svane glanced at his benefactor, who managed to look just as breathtaking even with his greying beard and lined face. I guess this is what women mean when they say "distinguished."

"Come with me."

Svane's legs swung over the edge of the bed and he slipped on his house shoes without hesitation. I guess he wants to punish me in the real world… though he's so much weaker now.

Brontes wondered if skipping the usual morning routine would muddy the taste of his meal but the hunger pains had started in the middle of the night. It had taken great restraint for him to wait until morning and now all he could think about was hot liquid coating his tongue before gushing down his throat and returning the life ebbing out of him.

He debated about whether to walk all the way to where he normally ate his meals, but the pain that radiated from the pit of his stomach to the rest of his body brought him short in front of his bedroom door instead.

It might be better this way anyway, he thought aimlessly, unlocking the door and kicking it open. The feeding room is the same as the dreamscape.

Svane's mouth dropped open in utter shock. He had been expecting a dark and cold room and dark furnishings. Instead, the wall he faced wasn't a wall at all; it was a window, one that overlooked a sparkling body of water. How is the water so clean…?

The second thing his eyes landed on added to his shock because rather than black and red sheets and dark furniture, the comforter on the California king bed was cerulean with white sheets. The frame of the bed was also white and rose off the light wooden floor a foot or two.

"You can pick your jaw off the ground."

Svane jumped at the edge in the vampire's voice but did as he was instructed, his teeth clashing from action.

"I… used to be a sailor."

A what? Svane turned to the vampire, who he noted had shut the door behind them. "Like sailing on the ocean for a living?"

Citrine eyes that had seemed lackluster seemed to glitter once more. "...Yes."

Looking away from the dazzling look, Svane saw the room anew. It does feel like I'm on the ocean…

"Do you need me to undress you?"

Why so flustered? Brontes watched as defined shoulders jerked and he couldn't help but marvel at the way the morning sun glinted off the long silver hair he wanted to touch.

"W-why do I need to—" The silver hair swayed with the movement of his food turning to gaze at him again. "Is that what the contract meant? I told you, I'm not letting you have sex with me!"

Brontes ate the distance between them in a flash, gripping that defiant jaw in his weakening grip. "You are not in a position to fight me. You already signed a legally binding contract." He let go, shoving the dingy boy toward his bed with what little strength he had left.

Now that he'd fed his food properly, the dingy boy remained upright though still a step or two closer to his bed. I don't have time for this.

"I do not plan on sleeping with you, but for your taste to be to my liking—"

"I get it, I get it!" Brontes could only blink at his reddening food. "Fine, but I haven't been able to, um, y'know..."

"Oh, that was my doing. I think you will find your attempt successful this time."

Bastard, I knew it! Svane could only numbly reach for his shirt but pausing at the revelation. He didn't know how the vampire managed to manipulate his body without his knowledge. "Just what all can you do?"

"That," Mr. Nicolau said as he stalked toward him, "is none of your concern. Now, strip."

"Alright already," Svane grumbled, pulling his sleep shirt off and throwing it to the other side of the bed.

It'd been so long since he'd seen his food clearly much less under his instruction, and Brontes couldn't help but marvel at the near-perfect specimen in front of him.

Sinewy pale flesh made saliva gather in his mouth and he watched as long, and somehow shapely legs move backward on the bed. Each movement made some other body part flex and twitch in such a titillating way. Brontes reached for his own button-down shirt so as not to get it dirty.

"Am I supposed to just...?" Svane somehow couldn't find the words, not when a small drop of fear rippled through his belly.

It wasn't just the blatant hunger making Mr. Nicolau's eyes morph to lava, burning into every place they grazed on his body; it was the rapid change of his dark luscious hair to brittle grey. He really has been wasting away.

The fear of Mr. Nicolau dying and leaving him on his own again made him push what little pride he had left and he reached for his limp member. Is he just gonna stare at me the whole time?

Just as soon as he thought it, Mr. Nicolau shifted suddenly and in his confusion, Svane could only watch the other man reach for him before feeling his body be shifted so that it faced the window. Why am I sitting in his lap?

"This position benefits us both." He felt cool breath at his ear before Mr. Nicolau's hoarse voice continued. "Now lie back please and tilt your head to the side."

Brontes could feel the tightening and tensing of the sculpted back against his chest. He might be a little too fit now, but even so...

Being this close to another body, even a cold one, was enough to get Svane's member to respond. It jerked in response to Mr. Nicolau's tongue traced over his racing pulse a few centimeters from the underside of his jaw. "Nngh!"

"I am thirsty, Svane; do you require my assistance?"

The blatant need that colored Mr. Nicolau's words, along with his cool lips suckling at his neck was enough to bring him close to the edge. Precum dribbled from the tip of his straining erection and he gripped at his hot, hard flesh.

"I-I don't need your help, b-b-but I—ahhhh!" Svane pumped his cock faster as sharp teeth grazed his heated skin.

"Must I do everything?"

Two long and thick fingers pried Svane's trembling lips open with force. "Lick them."

So obedient now. Brontes felt every movement of his warm tongue and he sucked at the tender hot flesh pulsing beneath his lengthening teeth. He hadn't thought this one succumbed so easily and a part of him wished there'd been some protest.

"Open your legs wider."

His sculpted back leaned further into Brontes as his legs fell open without hesitation. With his neck tilted to expose his pulse better, Brontes could feel the furious movements of his hand going up and down an impressive erection.

"W-what are you gonna d-do?"

Rather than answer, Brontes reached over and in front of him and circled at the twitching hole. "You should be used to the feeling."

He inserted one finger inside Svane's tight muscles. "I cannot wait much longer."

Svane's breath stopped as he slowly removed the digit, only to add the second finger. Mr. Nicolau made a "come here" motion inside him, brushing against his sensitive spot that swelled with need.

"A-again!"

"You are not in charge of me boy." Even as he said, Brontes moved his finger again, teasing Svane's g-spot. He hovered over the visibly racing pulse. "Come."

The command, mixed with the combined stimulation of both his cock and prostate finally pushed Svane over the edge. As his weeks overdue orgasm rippled through him, he felt searing pain at his neck before the sound of wet slurping overscored his grunts and the plip plop of his cum on the comforter beneath them. Fuck, that hurts!

The pain persisted and somehow added to the shockwaves of pleasure still radiating through his entire being. He'd never been pent up for so long and he could only expose his neck further to the vampire as little spurts of cum escaped from his twitching cock.

Just as sweet and refreshing as I knew it would be… Brontes sighed into the serrated neck, lapping at the blood spilling from the wound he'd made. He could feel his vitality coming back to him, his muscles strengthening and his heart rate picking up speed to match that of a normal human, though still a tad slower.

He clutched the trembling body in his arms closer to him for better access to blood that tasted almost like ambrosia. I don't… want to stop.

… It feels like I'm dying but I want more. The weak thought cut through Brontes' thirst and he retracted his teeth, still feeling the head high.

"Why… did y-you sto—"

The sudden silence and total relaxation of the body in his arms alerted Brontes that he'd fallen asleep.

"You are," he whispered, brushing the silver hair that had fallen across his face during their activities to gaze down at the young and defenseless face below him, "a complete conundrum, Svane Grímsson."