Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Bloodlust ❯ Prologue ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

AN: You can't understand how much this story has been bugging me.. Two weeks! Two fucking weeks! I didn't want to get caught up in something that again only a few people would like, but I ended this chapter... Well, prologue in a day.. And I guess I really wanted to write it. .

I can't stand writing something and not having reviews... The stories with reviews get updated more quickly. This is my third fic (Ugh! What is up with that?) and well. I just don't update those that don't get reviewed. So if you read, review alright? C'mon! Duo is the main character!

Pairings: Eventual 2x3, 2x1, 2x6, 13x6 (finally, they are not the main characters, haha), and somewhere in the future if I get enough reviews, 2x4, 4x3, and 5x4x3...There are probably some others, but that brings up too much math already.

Warnings: Some serious S/D, Vampires, and everything in between.

Summary: Duo, a male prostitute, waits for a client but instead comes to find out his father is dead and he will inherit a vampire legacy.

Prologue

"Hm...H-hmmmm...Hmmm...H-hmmm..." I hummed the usual drone of the jungle-cat porno music of the room, waiting for the client I was sure to make an extra beer or two with a bit of wooing. An eager masochistic young woman was always willing to pay extra if you wrung her in tight (haha, sadistic humor). With me being a twenty grand a night, third human, third werewolf, third vampire, Dom of the month young man with no Sub in all of this underground hell, she couldn't resist, and she won't. Since I lost another cowardly, stupid Sub to a conniving vampire of the upper levels, I was going to have those two extra beers.

It was better in the early days, when the first human and night beast wars started. The beasts of the nights wanted all the help they could get, but as soon as the two opposite forces reconciled- and it was a pretty fair treat, if I could say so- the damned beasts separated into their hierarchal domes, separated the mutts, like me, from the drink-with-your-pinky-extended purebloods up top. I am, or was, whichever side you're on, the child of Maxwell the Second- but more like the bloody heap from a one-night-stand, if you know what I mean. I've heard my mother died with my birth, then joined the Los Noches Beast Army around ten or eleven, a bastard child in my fuck-up of a father's platoon, battalion, or whatever the hell you call them things.

I didn't really like the place either. Everyone and their mom and their pet knew I was born out of wedlock and treated me like that stuff in the toilet. But I, like many others, was hooked on a piece of the promised notoriety and climb up the social ladder. A gigolo, even a well paid gigolo, ain't too much different from eating out the garbage can and feeling like shit. You're just eating something different. So, they lied. Big surprise.

The only repercussion was my awakened love for pain. Not my pain, mind you, but twisting a nipple just hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to not feel pleasurable. That just gets my blood boiling. I was already hard enough to bust. All I needed was that girls to walk in, big breasts and a tattoo above her knee, and we can start our rape-in-the-alleyway roleplay. Those who wished for fake rape were the ones I loved most; they tended to overestimate what they could take and were soon begging, playing around aside, for me to stop. But, can't really do that this time, nearly got sued with the guy before my last girl. I guess a broom would be a bit much.

Actually... There was another repercussion, an obsession that got me after my last fight. They- meaning some humans and their traitorous beast allies- sort of set fire to our safehouse, sprinkled garlic around the exits, and silver spikes and bear traps in a wide circle on the ground hidden in the grass. They had us in a real pickle. Luckily, the house collapsed, killing mostly everyone that was left inside, except me. I was that little occasion trapped between a hard floor and a burning beam until some hunk- as in a gorgeous vampire- saved me, held me in his arms and flew without harm or injury out the nearest exit through fire, garlic, and silver.

When he dropped me off at the main line, I felt he was going to leave and, as an impulse, kissed him. Trying to push me away, his eyes went wide when I had enough strength to keep him still- thrilling, really, able to do that at such a young age- and I remembered his eyes being the most mysterious shade of blue.

Finally, the hollow, blood-stained wooden door opened, breaking me out of the cobalt-eyed reverie, and I expected my tall, fishnet wearing Sub to walk in with wide frightened eyes, saying in a reasonably feasible voice, "Eric?" and I would respond in a voice husky enough to make her wet almost instantly.

Instead of starting the night off horny and ending in a adrenaline rush of content and a weepy girl, I had a short woman, a small-tittie woman, a vampire woman. From the pale hue of her face, fangs sticking out in gleaming points, and beautiful with small assets, I knew she was a pureblood vampire. Now, any other vampire walking in to maybe catch a bite of me because of my mixed blood would die, but a pureblood? My only chances were to kill her, and then have her coven take me down, or not kill her, and then have her drink my life through the aorta.

Eh.

"I really wanted that beer," I whined, and not caring, not like dying a withered coward was going to change anything.

One of her eyebrows lifted minimally. "Duo Maxwell?" I noticed the clipboard she had in her hand and the quill behind her ear. Yep, she was a pureblood all right, only they would stick to the antiques when there were perfectly good ink pens lying around. She glanced at whatever was on her clipboard and then nodded and repeated, "Duo Maxwell," with no question in her voice.

"That's me?" It wasn't a question per se, but the inflection reflected my dubiousness. Why in the hell was she so serious when she was about to feed on me? Maybe this was a game of hers, a twist on i my /i usual game, I was the masochist who overestimated myself and she was the Dom with the ulterior motive. Maybe she was waiting for the right time to tie me up and torture me- then I would fight back so she could kill me quickly, or I can find some way to kill myself.

Then I realized she was speaking, "Duo Maxwell? Do you understand?"

"What? What are you going to do?"

Her eyes went round, then they rolled exasperatedly. "Do you think I'm going to eat you?" she asked, a hand going to her hip.

"Well... What are you here for?"

Her lips set tersely, before she replied, "Now listen this time! I'm Hilde Scheibeker. I was once third aide to His Lord Maxwell until i he /i ," she gritted out with vehemence, "got himself killed along with the rest of his children."

"What the hell? How?" A pureblood and his all-important blood bearing children, dying all at once? Now, you don't hear that everyday... Or even every other year. Hell, I've never heard of it!

She rolled her eyes in embarrassment. "They got drunk, off of blood, of course, and went into the woods."

"They got caught by the sun, didn't they?"

"And the other idiot servants all went looking for them!" She roared, and the clipboard in her hand broke off a tiny piece. "Can you believe that? I can't believe I have to serve this idiot family... Well, I can't believe I have to serve you."

"You didn't like my 'father' very much," I said more than asked. When a vampire gets red in the face, it's either feeding time- hah, should've seen that- or some real anger issues. Since she has informed me I was not going to be killed, I was left to presume she really hated Lord Maxwell.

"You think?" she responded casually. "Well, we should go. We have...A SHITLOAD of things to do, and I want to hurry up and get them done. The Order has me oath, dammit."

A flurry of thoughts blew a blizzard in my head. She had skipped ahead a few levels before I caught on to what she was saying. My father and all his natural kids were gone... When a Lord under the Order dies, he must be replaced by the closest relative or the lineage destroyed, the money separated, and the land divided. That meant...

"Am I Lord Maxwell?"

"Why else would I be here and tell you the story?"

True that. But there was something else. "What about the all-powerful Order? Would they have bitchfits having a mutt like me reigning over a part of their land?"

"Don't be so cocky. You're worth dirt to them and your land is less noteworthy. Anyway, they i ordered /i me to, or else there will be some serious fights over your spoils." She shrugged, and I noticed myself following her out the door, forgetting all about my tall, big-breasted beauty. "Anyway, it is Fate that you inherit the land."

"Ah, Fate." All beasts were hung up on that. I particularly didn't care for Fate, as it had me whoring myself out for the last eight years.

When I exited the brothel Dreams and Screams, I saw the full moon was especially bright, outshining the nearest stars, the brightest stars glittering the best they could. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks, completely out of nowhere.

Holy shit! I was a Vampire Lord! I could have the prestige, the money (all mine this time, no bills and no pimp), and the slaves (real slaves!) that I've always wanted. Also, what attracted me most at the moment, was the fact I could unleash my power as much as I wanted now. As a lowly beast in the outskirts of a human-dominated city, you tried not to attract attention to yourself with hunters and higher-ranked beasts skimming the streets now and then. Might as well go around with a neon sign saying "KILL ME!!!"

Golden spokes gleaming in the moonlight upheld the silver-painted carriage, the top temporarily down. Ol' dead dad must have been the extravagant type. It was drawn by black stallions, the coach a tall vampire with tanned skin and hair messy at the bangs. His eyes were closed for the moment. By then, I was pretty sure that Fate had me knowing who he was.

Expectedly, the eyes opened to reveal tantalizing, emotionless cobalt irises. He stared at us with no hint of surprise, and I stared back equally unfazed.

"Bad news," he said in a husky monotone. I idly wondered what it sounded like during sex.

Hilde whined loudly, as if torn in pain. "Please don't tell me," she begged, hopping onto the back seats. "I thought you had the house covered!"

"I did. They got through."

She whipped out her clipboard, hugging it to her purplish-blue suit. It ended just above her shapely knees- yes, she had some nice legs too. Self-consciously, she pulled her skirt down, trying to be inconspicuous about it, and asked, "What did the stupid looters take, Heero?"

Oh, so that was his name? Heero. Fate would have it that way, wouldn't it?

"Almost everything," Heero said, "They left the Fun Room alone."

"Of course! That can only be opened with a Maxwell's voice. So I have to go fucking shopping," she glared at me. "And then I have to get you sworn in. Get you some pets. Introduce you to the Royals." Hilde seemed quite busy with my schedule.

"You still have to show him the ropes," Heero murmured, whipping the horses. They made a sick simultaneous whinny. A red light buzzed in his left pocket, and he took out his cellphone.

"Pretty spiffy," I said unconsciously, mostly preoccupied by the way his supple muscles rippled when he drove the horses faster with one arm. They looked strong and delicious; my mouth watered.

"I don't like living in the Stone Age like the rest of them." He looked at a few pictures on his relatively modern gadget. "We have another message from the Order. It's been dropped off at the house."

"That's still intact, right?" she asked wearily, and he nodded. "Well, good. We see what the hell they want then... I don't know. Go shopping or something."

Well. This seemed like it was going to be fun.