A typical college test of balls, that's what it started as. Almost Halloween, and Eric wanted to score popularity points by volunteering to be the one to check out the old mansion on the outskirts of campus. The frat wanted to use it for a special party, one that would be off the radar of those pesky administrators and security officers. Nobody to drag anyone in front of a judicial board for consuming far too much alcohol, nobody to complain about loud music or the way people were dressed (or not dressed). It would be perfect. Except nobody wanted to do it. Apparently there were rumors that the house was haunted. Everyone had an excuse. What better way to prove himself?

"I'll go." Three of the brothers slapped Eric appreciatively on the back, taking his breath away momentarily. As a sophomore, Eric still didn't really fit in. Not with the fraternity, not with the rest of the campus. That same nagging feeling, the one he'd thought he was escaping when he escaped high school. You're an outsider. You're different. It hadn't taken long for him to realize that college wasn't going to be any better. He really *didn't* fit in -- his painful shyness and mistrust of others kept him isolated and lonely. Terrified of just the simple act of socializing with other people, let alone having any real relationships.

This was gonna prove to them once and for all that he *did* belong, and that he wasn't a pussy, as they liked to call anyone they thought wouldn't fight back too much. The rumors that had grown up around this house were long-standing at the school, and in spite of their macho posturings, it was clear that many of the boys were no way in hell going near it. So it was up to Eric, the new kid, to ignore the urban legends and make the place party-ready.

Andrew eyed his roommate from across their room as Eric packed the supplies he'd gathered in his backpack. For this first visit, just a camera and some paper towels and rags. He figured he'd just clean it up enough to let the brothers see the condition it was in, and hopefully its potential as a party place. "You sure you wanna do this, Eric?" There was a twinge of concern in his voice. Andrew and Eric weren't exactly friends, but he wasn't an asshole either. "I mean, I dunno, some bad shit has happened in that house."

"Like what?" Eric realized he didn't know the details of the urban legends, just that they existed and they were . . . well, scary.

"Girls got killed in that house," Andrew said, with a seriousness that made his roommate's stomach churn with a sudden burst of nerves.

"Whaddya mean, killed? Murdered?"

Andrew pondered. "I guess murdered, yeah. I mean, that's the thing, nobody really knows. They went there, and when they didn't come back, well, when they finally found them, they were dead. Real dead."

Eric glared at him, suddenly annoyed at his concern. Was Andrew just trying to discourage him from scoring points with the rest of the frat? "What does that mean, REAL dead? Like shot or something?"

Andrew shrugged. "Look, I don't know really, I just heard that it wasn't pretty."

"When was this, like 100 years ago?" Eric was still suspicious of Andrew's intentions.

Andrew met his gaze evenly. "Two years ago," he said softly.

* * *

Eric tried to shrug off Andrew's lame attempts at discouraging him as he parked the car on the street nearest the mansion. It was an old place, probably built when the neighborhood surrounding the university was one of the better places to live around here, before the university bought up all the decent buildings and turned them into dorms and classrooms, leaving the rest of the area to succumb to urban blight and decay. This place hadn't been inhabited in quite some time, in fact there was nobody who Eric had met at the school who could remember it being anything other than deserted.

Over the years, the high metal fence surrounding it had rusted, the tall grasses entwined around the posts, many seasons worth of dead leaves clustered around the base to make the fence even more impenetrable. The owners of the house must have once been wealthy, for the distance from front gate to actual house was at least 50 yards. Eric could barely make out the dim outline of the building in the darkness. The streetlights were far behind him, and only the light of the quarter moon illuminated the contours of the house, glittering off the broken glass that had littered the porch roof from a shattered window above.

Surrounding the house and along what once was a walkway to the front door were many tall trees, bending low over the overgrown lawn, their untrimmed branches sweeping back and forth over the stones in the breeze. Where had that wind come from anyway? Eric pulled his jacket closer around him, rubbing his arms to warm himself. Come on, just get in. Get this over with and get a grip on your overactive imagination.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Eric grasped the rusted metal gate and pulled hard to dislodge it from its tangle of vines and broken branches. To his surprise, it swung towards him easily, throwing him off balance and landing him in a thick cushion of dead leaves. "Goddamnit," the boy swore, brushing the debris off impatiently. He didn't even notice when the gate slowly creaked its way shut behind him.

Walking briskly up the cluttered walkway, Eric swiped the low-hanging branches out of his way, one of them catching him on the backswing and lashing the back of his thigh. He yelped and skittered sideways, nearly falling again on the uneven flagstones under his sneakers. The wind had come up even more fiercely, creating an irregular whine as it blew through tree branches and rustled the leaves and long grasses. Eric hurried to get to the end of the walkway, and gave a gasp as the last of the trees parted to reveal the house itself suddenly before him.

"Jesus." It was much larger than it had appeared from the road, and Eric craned his neck to stare upward at its imposing four stories, topped by gabled windows backlit in silhouette by the moonlight. The stairs he stood poised to climb were marble, obscured by dirt and debris, but still imposing as solid slabs rising from the vast flat lawn. Above the half dozen stairs, the heavy wooden door was shut tight, secured by a padlock which looked more modern than the rest of the house. "Fuck," Eric swore. He hadn’t thought to bring bolt cutters or something with which to pry open a downstairs window. Maybe he should just turn around and . . .

A nasty gust of wind caught him off guard as it raced across the narrow porch of the house, carrying with it a swirl of dust and dead leaves that left Eric choking and eyes watering. He stumbled to the side just as something hard and solid struck him in the chest. For a second, he thought he was being attacked, that the fabled murderer of those hapless girls was still right there on the porch just waiting for another victim, that the thud in his chest was the thwack of a bullet or an axe or a . . .

The object fell to the ground, hitting the toe of Eric's sneaker on the way and creating another burst of pain. "Ouch, fuck, ohgod," the boy stammered, fists flailing at nothing as the wind died down again. When his eyes finally cleared, he saw what had "attacked" him. The padlock had been loosened from its hinges and had been thrown free. The heavy wooden door creaked open a crack, and Eric saw his chance to escape from the phantom on the porch. It wasn't until later that he realized that wasn't where the danger was after all.

* * *

Eric coughed as the dust swirled up from the filthy floor, stirred by his entrance and the wind that blew him into the room. He switched on the flashlight and let the light illuminate the room bit by bit as he circled. "This place is fucking disgusting," he said to nobody. It occurred to him that this job was going to take longer than he'd expected. Why had he volunteered for this thankless task anyway? Damn his insecurity, his need to fit in. When had it ever worked? Eric had always felt invisible. As a kid, he'd been too sensitive, always letting things bother him that other boys seemed to shrug off. He made the mistake early on of allowing others to *know* they were getting to him, and like wolves circling around the weakest of a herd, that had attracted all the bullies. By the time he'd figured out that he needed to just learn to take it, it was too late to discourage them. Eric's reputation had been sealed, and it followed him relentlessly all the way through high school. He had never even had a date. Just the thought of walking up to a girl and asking her out was enough to render him stammering and sick to his stomach. Better not to try and risk rejection, or worse, humiliation.

Jesus, and why was he thinking about all that now? Eric chastised himself, tossing his bookbag to the dirty floor and looking around at the squalor of the parlor. Where to begin?

A noise from the next room caught his attention before he’d had a chance to answer his own question. WTF? Could it be some animal in here, a stray cat perhaps? Eric tried to ignore it, rifling his backpack for some rags and paper towels. There was another thump, louder this time. Goddamnit, he'd have to go see what that was.

Guiding himself with the stream of the flashlight, Eric made his way to the door that led to the next room. Dead branches and leaves crackled in protest under his sneakers. As he approached, he saw that there were double doors here. Perhaps a library at one time? He tentatively grasped one handle, the old glass knob cold in his hand. It turned easily enough, and the door opened inward. If there was a cat trapped in here, at least he could allow it an exit. "Here kitty kitty," he said softly, his voice sounding eerily high pitched in the empty house. A sudden gust of cold breeze swirled in the door, making the fine hairs on the back of the boy's neck stand up. "Kitty?" he asked hopefully, feeling the whoosh of something else in the room with him, moving so close behind him that he could almost feel the contact against his back. But surely a cat wouldn't be that tall . . .

Eric suddenly wanted out of there, fuck the goddamn cat, fuck the stupid frat and their stupid requirements, he just wanted to be out of this house. He spun on his heels, turning for the double doors, when the open one abruptly slammed shut, kicking up a cloud of dust and momentarily blinding him again. “Goddammit, get me out of here” the boy half cursed half pleaded as he fumbled for the handle. He felt the unmistakable grip of a hand on his arm, and then the flashlight was knocked to the floor and extinguished.

Eric heard himself scream.

* * *

What happened next was a blur, a struggle in pitch black, but it could hardly be called a struggle at all. It was clear from that first grasp that Eric had no chance of escaping, let alone winning. The grip on his arm was like a vice, almost crushing his bicep as he was dragged backwards into the center of the room. When he tried to reach back with his other arm to reach his assailant, that arm was grabbed too, just as tightly as the first. Eric had never felt such strength. It was like he was a fly in the grip of a spider ten times his size, being drawn slowly and inexorably into the center of the web, knowing with horrible certainty that he would soon be devoured.

His sneakers skidded in vain on the wood floor, like a cartoon character trying to run but going nowhere. Eric could hear his own cries, desperate and angry and frightened, his heart hammering like it would fly out of his chest at any moment. “Let me go, motherfucker,” he finally managed to spit, trying to kick backwards against his attacker. There was no response, not even an attempt to get out of the way. His sneaker connected with what must have been the other’s leg, but Eric only succeeded in sending stabs of pain through his foot as it struck solid. Boots? They must have on boots. Eric frantically tried to make sense of what was happening, but his mind was spinning.

Momentarily one of his arms was released, and Eric doubled his efforts at escape, then descended into even greater panic as he felt something fastened around his wrist and then hoisted above his head. He tugged on it wildly, but in seconds the other wrist was grabbed and similarly fastened, and now he knew he was helpless. Tethered to the ceiling by both wrists, his feet just barely planted on the floor. The awful realization sunk in, and Eric let out a sob of abject fear, jerking his arms against the restraints in vain again and again. Who the fuck would do a thing like this? What did they want?

The story Andrew had told him about the girls who had been killed rang in his ears, filling Eric with sudden despair. Ohgod. They had been ‘real’ dead. And now it was his turn. What madness had made him come to this godforsaken place?

The boy continued to struggle for many minutes, testing the strength of his bonds, trying to turn his body as far as he could to try to get a glimpse of his attacker. But the room remained dark, and also, he realized with a surge of terror, completely silent. Eric forced himself to be still, straining his ears for the sound of the other’s breathing. But all he could hear was the sound of his own heart pounding. Where were they? It seemed he was all alone in the room, and somehow that idea terrified him just as much. Was he just going to be left here to die?

* * *

Minutes passed, and Eric tried to calm himself enough to figure out a plan. Surely Andrew would send someone to look for him if he didn’t return. Wouldn’t he? Maybe the person was gone, maybe they were just playing an elaborate prank, maybe it was really some of those fucking frat assholes . . .

His entire body froze solid at the unexpected touch of a finger against the middle of his back. Jesusfuckingchrist, the person had been there all the fucking time, just standing there right behind him? Waiting? Watching? The thought filled Eric with revulsion and a fear so encompassing that he found himself close to vomiting. He began to shake uncontrollably as the finger made its way slowly down his spine. Ohgod, what was happening? Was he about to be killed now after all?

When they reached the waist of his jeans, the finger paused, hovering there at the small of his back. Eric was afraid to breathe. Should he plead? Should he stay silent? Before he could decide, the touch was withdrawn, and there was complete silence again. Once more, Eric strained to hear the sound of the other person’s breathing, the shuffle of their boots on the floor. But there was nothing. And then, so quickly that he didn’t register what was happening at first, there was the sound of material ripping and a tug of fabric against his chest, and then he was shirtless. Vaguely he heard the thud of his jacket and tee shirt settling on the floor at his feet. Ohgod. Why would they do that? Ohgod. Ohno.

He knew without anyone having to tell him that his jeans and shorts would be next. He wasn’t sure how, it was as though they were just split in half and removed, so fast he couldn’t even tell if there had been a knife, or scissors. They were just gone, and he was naked except for the sneakers planted firmly on the wood floor.

Eric had thought he knew what it was to be afraid. That time in the hallway of middle school, under the stairs that nobody used. When the gang of five boys cornered him, brandishing their fists as they advanced on him, backed against the wall. The pain of the beating, and even worse, the humiliation of being found crumpled on the floor by the other students. He’d thought that was as bad as it gets in life. But this. This was looking the end in the face. To his horror, Eric realized that his bare thigh was cold and wet. He’d pissed himself in his terror. He wondered if that would be obvious, by the time they found his body. What would be left of him? What had been left of those girls? Why hadn’t he pressed Andrew for more details?

He whimpered as his attacker touched him again from behind, raising gooseflesh on his bare skin. So cold, their fingers were so cold, like icicles trailing over his shoulders, down his sides. Eric shuddered, trying to will himself to just pass out, to have a heart attack, anything but be here aware of what was going to happen to him. The hands slid down over his hips, feeling over his tensed buttocks. “Please,” he said without meaning to, “Please don’t.”

Why he thought that someone who had tied him up in a deserted house in the middle of the night would listen to a reasonable request was beyond him. In truth, Eric was beyond rational thought, more desperate than he’d ever been in his life. The survival instincts honed through years of being victimized kicked in. He wouldn’t go down without a fight. He’d learned that much.

“I’ll do whatever you want, give you what you want. I don’t want to die.”

It was a simple truth, he realized as he spoke the words. As crappy as his life had been, he wanted to hold onto it. There was enough there worth living for, whether or not he got into this stupid frat or ever got up the guts to ask a girl out. That didn’t matter, only being alive did.

The hands came back up his sides, and then there was a new sensation, utterly unexpected. The soft brush of hair against his bare shoulders, long hair. Luxuriously long, and smooth as silk against his skin. And then, even more unexpected, soft words. “You don’t want to die? You have something to live for?”

It was the voice of a woman.

* * *

Eric was more confused than ever. A woman? He had been assaulted by a woman? And the strength in those fingers . . . how could it be?

Her lips played over the back of his neck, soft and cushiony, bringing gooseflesh again. “Tell me,” she urged, her breath cool against his ear.

“I . . .” Eric found himself stammering. “I . . . I’m young. I have th-things to look forward to.”

She traced the muscles in his back, kissing the nape of his neck. “What things?”

What the hell? Eric felt like he was engaged in some perverse game of psychological prove-yourself-worthy, and the stakes were life. What the fuck was the right answer here? And would it even matter what he said? He had the distinct feeling he was just being played with, like a cat gently bats at the captive mouse, lulling it into a false sense of security before the claws come out and make it bleed to death. And he couldn’t even fucking see her. . .

“I’m not sure, but . . . “

She laughed suddenly, and the unexpectedness of that was chilling too. Jesus, she thought this was funny, she must be totally fucked up, he’d been captured by a psychotic. But then, what else? He was tied up naked in a deserted house. What else *could* she be?

“Like sex? Do you look forward to that, Eric?”

He froze in her grip. “How do you know my name?” The nightmare was getting darker and darker.

“Answer the question,” she demanded, ignoring his. “Do you look forward to having sex?”

Eric figured lying was the wrong thing to do, but he dreaded staying on this particular topic. What did she want from him? If it had been a man, he would have expected to be raped, but now . . . the confusion was paralyzing. “Yes,” he finally answered. “I don’t know if it will ever happen, since I’ve never actually had the guts to ask anyone out, but yeah, I hope so.”

She stroked his neck with what almost felt like tenderness at that. Say something else, Eric told himself, trying to force himself to think clearly. Get her talking. Do *something*.

“And what, what do you . . .” His words were halting, unsure, but he pressed on. “What do you look forward to?”

Her fingers paused, and she laughed again, her voice husky this time. With emotion? Ohgod, what had he done? Maybe conversation was a mistake. Then again, how much worse could the situation get? “Yes, what? There must be something,” he urged.

There was a long silence, the only sound Eric’s sneakers shuffling against the wood floor and his rapid breathing. Finally the other answered from behind him. “No. There is nothing.”

The finality of the answer shook the captive boy to the core. Hopelessness was not a trait you wanted to hear in a would-be murderer.

“But surely there must be something. Sex? You asked me, so . . .”

“Ah Eric, you almost sound as if you want to know.” There was sadness in her voice, and Eric tried to seize on it, hoping for a morsel of compassion in return. Probably a pathetic fruitless attempt, he knew, but why not try?

“I do,” he said simply.

Long silky hair swept against his back as she rested her head on his shoulder and sighed. “Perhaps, a long time ago. There were things I thought I could look forward to.”

“Things that made life worth living?” Eric pressed.

She snorted derisively at that. “Worth living,” she repeated, her voice low and even, but the contempt clear. “Is your life worth living, Eric? Without friends, without sex, without acceptance? As an outcast? Is your life still worth living?”

It chilled him to hear her recount the very things he’d often thought to himself. There had been times he’d doubted it, times he’d thought about ending it all. When his fear of the future had been so great he’d wanted to avoid ever having to face it. But now, face to face with his own mortality, he knew with a certainty he’d never felt before that he *did* want to live. He wanted it desperately, with every fiber of his bound body.

“Yes. Even without all that, yes.”

She stilled again, seemingly paying close attention. “Why? What makes it so?”

Eric swallowed, wondering if his answer would decide his fate. He couldn’t have answered her simple question yesterday. But he realized suddenly that everything had changed for him in the last hour. Now he could. “All my life I’ve been afraid,” he said finally. “And now I realize there was nothing there to be afraid of at all. I didn’t even know what fear was then. Jesus, I’ve wasted so much time being scared, and now – now I – I want the chance to live without that. I just want the chance to be me. Even if I am an outcast.” His voice cracked with emotion.

She pressed her soft full lips to the back of his neck, sending chills down his spine. “You have been honest with me,” she said, her voice low and raspy, different from before. “Talked to me . . .” Her voice trailed off as she slid her hands down over his sides. “I feel you, the you inside.”

Eric struggled to make sense of her words, her touch. Her hands moved slowly around him from behind, playing over his bare chest. Cold, so cold. He shivered as she touched his nipples and they instantly hardened to tight nubs. Eric drew in his breath. So much for the power of his conversation. He felt the fear rise in him again, making his stomach clench tightly, the bile rise in his throat.

She pinched him gently, then more roughly, one hand sliding down his belly. Ohgodno, was she going to touch him? To have this stranger’s fingers wrapped around his cock while he was defenseless, to have this psycho be able to do anything she wanted to him . . . it was too much, too scary. He struggled against the bonds, trying to prevent her from reaching his dick.

“You’re beautiful, Eric,” she told him softly, reaching around him to stroke his taut belly.

Oh great, she thought he was beautiful. I’m finally naked with a woman who wants my dick and she’s a fucking psychopath who’s as likely to cut it off as fuck me, doesn’t it just fucking figure? Eric was shaking again, feeling sobs of desperation rise up in his chest. Valiantly, he tried to keep his composure, not let her see how scared he was.

One hand came back around to his ass as she stood behind him, her fingers eagerly exploring him, feeling the curve of muscle and flesh. She ran one finger down his crack, her icy touch against his clenched asshole making him gasp out loud.

She sighed and he felt her hair brush against his shoulders and back again as she shook her head.

“It’s been a long time since someone stirred me in the human way,” she spoke against his ear. “A very long time.”

The human way?? Eric tried to wrap his panic-addled brain around what she had said. But the alternative was too awful to contemplate. Maybe this was part of her psychosis? What the fuck did she believe she was?

“You said you’d do what I wanted,” she reminded him.

“Yes, yes, please, I will, just tell me,” Eric sobbed, grasping for what was probably his last chance at survival. “Please.”

She kissed the back of his neck again, touching her tongue to his skin, and again he felt the chill of her touch. “Let yourself feel, Eric,” she whispered, “That’s what I want you to do. Can you do that for me?”

Jesus, what did she mean? Did she honestly expect him to get it up under these circumstances? There was no fucking way he was gonna be able to feel anything other than terror and rage as long as he was tied up this way, what did she think?

She didn’t wait for an answer. Her body pressed close behind his, Eric felt her kiss against his neck, and her tongue, and then her teeth scrape his skin, up and down, the pressure getting harder and harder. Her hands gripped his sides so roughly that it began to hurt, and he could feel her desire for him so urgent that it was almost palpable. She gave a little groan of surrender, and then there was a burst of white hot pain as her teeth broke his skin and sunk deep into his flesh. Eric had no time to realize what was happening before without warning the pain turned to a searing pleasure that seemed to travel through his body like an electric current, bringing every cell of his body instantly to life as though he’d been set on fire. He heard himself moan as if from far away, and then everything seemed to happen in slow motion, as though time itself had been altered when her teeth had pierced him.

Her hands wrapped around his chest again, but this time when her fingers reached his nipples the hard nubs throbbed with the heat of her fingertips, tingled as she pinched them hard and tugged them roughly until he could feel it in his dick. One hand slid sinuously around to his back, trailing heat in winding strokes over his ass, then prodding against his asshole again. He felt her remove her finger, felt her stroke it over his neck where her teeth still remained embedded in his flesh, and then she touched him again between his cheeks. He gasped as her heated slick finger slipped inside him, burning him with delicious waves of pleasure all along his tight clenched entrance. It was as though his insides were on fire, the deeper she penetrated him the more his belly felt like molten lava, the more his cock swelled and throbbed with need. She reached a spot inside him with her fiery touch and he thought he would spill his seed right then and there, without his cock being touched at all, his arousal was so great. Eric couldn’t help but moan out loud.

Then, suddenly, to his utter dismay, he felt her teeth abruptly withdrawn from his neck, her finger slide out of his ass, felt her back away with a moan of her own.

“No, ohgod,” Eric sobbed, aware only that his body was demanding release and that the pleasure had been like nothing he’d ever felt before.

There was a flicker of light, and slowly Eric’s eyes adjusted to a dim illumination that brought the room into focus. She had lit a candle. Then another. Eric swallowed hard, trying to think in spite of the way his body was filled with heat and hovering just on the verge of orgasm.

“Not like that,” she said softly, behind him. “I want you to see me.”

And then she stepped slowly into the light.

Except she was not a she.

* * *

Standing in front of him was a young man, only slightly younger than Eric. His hair was as it had felt, long and lustrous, like variegated brown and blonde strands of silk falling past his thin shoulders. For all the strength Eric had felt in his hands, the boy was slender, lissome. And beautiful. His face couldn’t be described as handsome, but pretty. Prettier than most girls Eric had lusted after. Luminous brown eyes regarded him questioningly from under dark lashes, and the boy’s full lips gleamed wet and red in the candlelight.

With my blood, Eric thought with a start. The blush in his cheeks, the heat that made his touch like liquid fire – from my blood. He was face to face with a vampire.

There was no doubt in Eric’s mind, as implausible an explanation as it was. He knew it for what it was, instantly.

The boy was dressed in a flowing white shirt, ties loosely fastened across his narrow chest, and breeches which looked to be velvet. And the leather boots that Eric’s sneaker had contacted earlier. He looked as though he had stepped out of a portrait, out of a dream. Maybe this was a dream? And if it was, was it a nightmare?

“Do you still want?” he asked in a voice that was no longer female, and yet not entirely male either.

Eric swallowed hard. His cock had remained achingly hard, his asshole still twitched from the feel of that hot finger probing him, his nipples tingled in the cool night air. It had to be the right answer, didn’t it? The truth?

“Yes.”

There was a flicker of something in the vampire’s dark eyes. Relief even? How preposterous, considering Eric was his helpless captive. And yet, there was something. Slowly he pulled his blouse up over his head, revealing skin so pale and white he seemed to be made of marble. Only the small pink nipples interrupted the expanse of creamy skin. Eric let his eyes sweep over the vampire’s form, noting the bulge in his tight velvet trousers. So vampires got erections too. Somehow he’d never really considered that. That didn’t happen in Anne Rice novels, did it?

He watched as the boy removed his boots and unfastened his trousers, slipping them over his slender hips until he stood as naked as Eric. His cock was just as erect as the other boy’s, striking in its redness as it sprung from his pale body. The curls that framed it were dark, but above he was completely hairless, like a boy even younger than he appeared. Even in his present state, even knowing what the creature was, Eric was aware that the vampire was beautiful. That looking at him had only made Eric hotter. He did want. It had been the truth.

Eric felt the fear begin to wash over him again as the vampire approached him, blinking and trying to steady himself for whatever was to come. Seeing his discomfort, the vampire kissed him softly on the cheek, warm hands again taking hold of his sides, embracing him.

“You promised me you would let yourself feel,” he reminded his captive, and Eric tried to push the persistent terror away, tried to be in the moment instead of thinking about the death that surely would follow. “Shhhh,” the vampire soothed him, and then to make sure, he joined them once again, his teeth sinking into the same tiny holes still oozing in Eric’s neck. There was no pain this time, only the spreading heat, the sensation that his entire self was aroused and on the verge of a full-body orgasm. The vampire reached behind him and Eric groaned with pleasure as the hot slick finger slid inside him again, stroking his insides until he felt sure he would die from the intensity of it.

Vaguely he was aware of the vampire’s hard cock prodding his belly, rubbing against his own with increasing urgency. Eric tried to think, but the lust that was flooding him made it hard to focus on anything other than his own need. The vampire shuddered and pulled his mouth away from Eric’s neck, reaching down to wrap his fingers around Eric’s swollen cock. “Ohhh,” he said softly, his voice more human now, quavering with the same desire that was making Eric twist and writhe in his bonds.

In that hint of vulnerability, Eric saw his chance. “Untie me,” he pleaded, voice hoarse with passion. “Let me fuck you.” He didn’t really have any expectation that it would work. On the contrary, it was really just what he was thinking at that moment. How desperately he wanted to do it.

Maybe that’s why the vampire believed it.

He moved away just enough to meet Eric’s eyes. So close they were almost kissing. “Let me,” Eric said again softly. “You asked me to feel, now I’m asking you.”

The boy’s pretty face reflected sudden anguish at his captive’s words. Eric could see very human indecision swirling in the big dark eyes. There was a long long pause. Then the vampire shook his head sadly. “No. It’s too late, too late for me.”

Before Eric could respond, instead of releasing him the vampire slid to his knees, kissing down the other’s boy’s chest to his stomach, then grasping his swollen prick at the base and taking it in his mouth hungrily. Eric gasped at the feel of the fangs scraping his shaft, but the vampire was careful, his full lips wrapped tightly around Eric’s dick as he took it deep in his throat. The sensation was too much for Eric. On the verge of cumming, his knees gave out and he sagged against his bonds with a groan, his head spinning as he started to pass out. He figured most of his blood had either been taken by the vampire or rushed to his prick, and there just wasn’t enough left to keep the rest of him going.

The vampire leapt to his feet instantly as Eric collapsed, wrapping strong arms around his waist to lift him. “No, god no, not now,” he whispered, reaching upwards to unfasten the straps that kept Eric tethered to the ceiling. “Eric,” he called gently, as the other boy fell against his chest.

* * *

Eric could feel that incredible strength again, even in the slender fragile-appearing arms. The vampire was holding him like he was a feather. He heard his name called again, as if from far away, his face buried in the vampire’s neck, the long silky hair tangled around him, intoxicating. Sleepily Eric kissed the pale skin there, his hands fumbling to wrap around the creature’s thin waist. The vampire was warm now, firmer than a human but with skin as soft as silk. Miraculously, despite his exhaustion, Eric’s cock had remained rock hard, and he half heartedly pushed his hips against the other boy’s, instinctively looking for somewhere to get inside.

“You still want?” he heard the vampire ask with disbelief.

In answer he clenched a hand in the vampire’s long hair and searched for his mouth, for those full red lips he’d been so close to. He could feel the vampire’s indecision as he pressed their mouths together insistently, and then the sudden surrender, and he plunged his tongue inside, tasting his own blood there, heated and rich. Eric was hungry, so hungry. And he could feel the vampire’s hunger rising in kind, hear the low moans his kiss elicited, feel the creature’s hard cock nudging his hip.

When he broke the kiss to gasp for breath, the vampire shifted them subtly, Eric’s still open mouth against his smooth thin shoulder. “Take me, Eric,” he pleaded. “I can feel your hunger, your need.”

Eric didn’t understand. “Yes, yes I need, I want,” he mumbled weakly, not sure if he had the strength to actually do anything about it.

“Bite down, Eric, sink your teeth into me.”

Eric tried to clear his spinning head enough to understand. What was he being asked to do? He was no vampire, he had no fangs.

“Do it!” The vampire spoke harshly now, half an order and half a plea. “My blood will give you strength.” He pressed Eric’s face down hard against his shoulder until Eric could barely breathe. “Now,” the vampire commanded.

Half heartedly Eric nibbled at the firm but pliant flesh, but the vampire was insistent. “Harder,” he yelled, raising his voice this time and slapping Eric soundly on his bare ass to rouse him. “Bite!”

And bite he did, sinking his dull teeth into the vampire’s skin until the flesh broke, half horrified at what he was doing and half gratified that he was taking some just revenge. The first droplets of blood that seeped into his mouth ran through him with a surge of power so strong Eric pulled back to gasp. Every muscle in his body seemed to tense simultaneously with a strength he’d never felt. It was fucking awesome, feeling his own power. He dipped his head again and plunged his teeth back into the vampire’s torn shoulder, greedy for more, his senses growing more acute with every infusion of hot blood trickling down his throat. Together they tumbled to the hard floor, neither caring, lost in the throes of desires primal and unstoppable. Eric could hear the vampire’s soft whimpers, whether of pain or excitement he wasn’t sure. But he was sure of his own excitement. His dick felt enormous, like a lance of steel, and Eric shoved it frantically against the other boy’s flat belly, straddling his slim hips as he gnawed on the succulent flesh.

“Take me,” the vampire rasped, voice hoarse and full of desperation. He maneuvered them until he could raise his legs and angle himself to offer Eric’s straining dick entrance, guiding the other boy’s cock and slicking it with blood-tinged saliva. It went in like a rocket on fire, both of them clinging together and crying out with the intensity of it, as Eric rocked his hips to plunge in and out. He knew he couldn’t hold off, there was no way. Eric fumbled to grasp the vampire’s stiff prick and pumped it hard and fast, his bloody fingers creating a hot friction, watching with fascination as the boy’s _expression became thoroughly human, his dark eyes gleaming with passion, lips curled into the familiar mix of anguish and ecstasy that Eric had seen on himself many times in the mirror. He felt the vampire climax in his fist, groaning loudly, and then let himself careen over the edge, pumping what felt like gallons of hot cum into the tight ass gripping his dick.

When it was over, he rolled to the side and lay on the dusty wood floor, breathing hard, his head spinning anew. What now? Jesus, what now? Was this just the prelude to his death? Eric had the sudden ridiculous thought that at least he hadn’t died a virgin.

Impulsively he reached out to feel the splatters of cum pooled on the vampire’s concave belly. Even this bodily fluid was tinged with blood. Eric’s blood. He wondered if that was all that made the creature alive, if that was the only life he had left in him. And for how long? It seemed sad suddenly.

As if reading his thoughts, the vampire turned his face away, but not before Eric watched a pale blood tear trickle slowly down his gaunt cheek.

“So you do feel,” Eric said softly.

His heart longed to reach out in comfort, but his head warned him not to fall prey to his feelings. To remember what this beautiful boy really was. Eric could hear the quaver back in his own voice, feel the fear starting to return now that the desire had ebbed.

The vampire could hear it too. He turned and brushed the tear impatiently from his cheek, leaving a faint pink blush behind on his pale white skin. “I did not think it still possible,” he said finally. His voice retained its humanity, at least for the moment, a trace of vulnerability audible there. And regret. Such regret.

Eric stroked the creature’s pale chest without thinking, feeling the ribs. He was very thin. Eric wondered how old he was, how old he had been, when . . .

Abruptly the vampire grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand away. Their eyes met, and Eric saw steely determination replace the warmth that had been there minutes before. His heart caught in his throat and a shiver ran down his naked body. Ohgod.

“You have reminded me what it is to be alive. The things that once I lived for, that are no longer mine to have.”

Ohshit, Eric thought. Why the fuck did I do that? What was I thinking? The vampire still clasped his wrist in a grip that was increasingly uncomfortable.

“Go now. Leave while you can.”

Once again, Eric could see a flash of emotion in the vampire’s large eyes, moist and luminous in the dying candlelight. A look of regret, then resignation. God, the creature – the boy -- was beautiful. But was he truly going to be allowed to escape?

The vampire spoke evenly, his smooth voice resonating with an unfathomable sadness. “When you come back, come in the daylight. It will be an easy task to kill me where I sleep, in this very room. I would rather it be you than a stranger.”

Eric nodded, afraid even to breathe. The vampire still held tightly to his wrist. For a long moment, neither of them moved, though Eric could feel in his grip the other boy’s torment. Indecision? The vampire seemed to want to let him go and hold onto him all at once. Ohgod, what should he do?

Then suddenly the hold on his arm was released. “Go!” the vampire ordered again, and this time his voice was loud and strong. Determined. Eric skidded to his feet, scrambling in the dim light for the door. He didn’t look back as he struggled through the parlor, tripping over the dead branches, his sneakers sliding on the leaves. It seemed to take him hours to reach the door in the darkness, his fingers slipping on the doorknob, his heart hammering so hard in his chest he thought he might die of a heart attack after all.

He took the stairs two at a time, naked body gleaming in the moonlight as he ran at full speed down the pathway, tree branches whipping him, breaking the skin. He didn’t even feel it. All he felt was the abject terror of knowing that the vampire could change his mind and catch up to him at any time, could be right behind him right now, right at his shoulder, hand reaching out to grab him and drag him backwards with the strength he’d felt so acutely, any second now, any . . .

Eric careened through the gate, bruising his chest against the rusted metal, hearing it scream protest as it creaked closed behind him. He ran across the street heedless of his nakedness in the streetlight, fumbling for the door of his parked car. As soon as he climbed inside, he frantically locked all the doors, suddenly finding himself sobbing uncontrollably. Keys, spare keys, where are they where are they ohgod where . . . his fingers dug through the glove box and finally encountered metal. In the ignition, put it in, do it do it, ohgod is he here did he follow me ohgod. The engine sputtered to life and Eric floored it, tires screeching as he drove into the night.

* * *

The afternoon sun bathed the old house in warm autumn colors as Eric stood outside the gate the next day. How different it looked in the daylight. He could see how beautiful a house it must have once been, the unique architecture, the inviting expanse of broad marble steps through the trees. Who would suspect that a vampire slept inside its walls?

Eric heard the vampire’s warning replay in his head. “Come in the daylight.” Only then would he have a chance to take the creature’s life.

The iron gate was warm from the overhead sun as Eric’s hand clasped the latch. But by the time he pulled the gate open on its protesting rusted hinges, the metal had grown cold and a chill crackled in the air. In the darkness of a quarter moon risen high over the gables, Eric started down the long pathway to the open door.

Fin

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