Nightwalker Fan Fiction ❯ The Bells ❯ In the Belfry ( Chapter 7 )

Sorry this took so long in the making guys. I took about a week and a half long break and then actually let this one get gasp beta'ed. Much thanx to Croetia Flayier (sp?) for that service. I'm gonna try to put up a new chap every Wed, so keep a lookout.

Disclaimer: No, I don't own Cain and Shido or any of the other characters from Nightwalker, no matter how much the voice in my head sounds like Guni…

Warning: As in just about all the fan fiction I write, this fic contains YAOI, or Male/Male relationships that are, as always, incredibly graphic. To me, it's art, and therefore restricting it would be not only stupid, but futile as my muse would beat me into submission and scream for me to write it anyway…

An odd kind of extra warning, this section of the fic contains borderline NCS (non-consensual sex) and for those of you squeamish about it, better stop reading now…

Chapter Seven: In the Belfry

A long, dark common room was stretched before him, the only light cast coming from the small fire within a much too large fireplace. Shadows played over the spines of hundreds of book neatly organized by author and publishing date and placed in cherry-wood shelves that matched the polished wainscoting. Bits of warm light pooled in small areas, only to flicker with the passing of each flame in its brief chaotic dance. A lone figure watched this play of light and darkness between lines of poetry and the soothing, if not depressing, notes of Bach.

Stavros sat in the large common room chair of his chambers and watched as Erik slowly opened the large double doors, only to slip in through the tiniest fraction of what the doors could open to and entered, closing the imposing doors behind him. He looked up from the book he was reading and peered over the rim of small and elegant reading glasses. "You impetuous fool, do you have any idea what you've done?" Stavros growled while bearing fangs.

"I'm sorry, Master," Erik almost stuttered.

Stavros set his book down on the chair's arm and stood, his dark visage venturing closer and closer to Erik. He stopped only when he was so close to Erik that the black haired vampire could feel his breath upon his cheek. Of all the vampires that Stavros' had sired, this dark haired man was by far his favorite.

Erik's face was that of an porcelain doll, all soft planes and slender structure, perfectly preserved in time by his vampiric death at the age of nineteen. Not a single hair had yet to even grace his face before the hands of mortality forever lost him, and his eyes held that almost innocent air of one just entering adulthood. It was probably why Stavros had kept him so long. Almost…Stavros' eyes darkened slightly as he saw that façade of "innocence" washed away by a wave of lust that crept over the older vampire. But no, his fledgling had almost cost him dearly, and he was take his creation's pain before taking his own pleasure…

Or he'd do both at the same time. He smiled, a movement that sent a shiver up Erik's spine and that discernable even to Stavros.

"Master, I--"

Stavros attacked before Erik had even realized what had happened, grabbing him by the collar and tossing him to the floor. The elder vampire straddled Erik over the chest and arms, pinning them to his sides with practiced ease. He enjoyed every minute of fear that passed over Erik's features, but hid all of these emotions.

Stavros leaned down to whisper to Erik. "Do you have the slightest clue what your little show of bravado could have cost me." Stavros reached behind him and his hand crept down to Erik's inner thigh, and claws dug into the soft flesh there, spilling first blood that sent Stavros' heart racing, despite the restraint he was showing. "I've spent decades waiting for that wretch to return. You do remember that without him we stand no chance of following through and surviving this little coupe de ta, hmm, my little whore?" He ran soft fingertips over the new wound and soothed with a vampiric touch that promised ecstasy to follow the pain. He had learned that pain was best taken when followed by a brief pleasure. It would be such a hassle to break in a new pet every time.

"Yes, Master."

Stavros threaded one razor sharp claw under the collar of his creation's robe and slid it downward, slicing through the fabric like air. Once laying his creation's chest for bare, Stavros stood, and dragged Erik up to his knees by the hair.

"Master please. Please stop this," Erik looked up to angelic deception that was his master. His pale features and white hair were shadowed and tinted by the blue of night and the warm colors of the fire, illustrating, firsthand, the cold and hot contrasts that made up his very being. His master threaded the fingers of the very hand that had torn open his shirt into his dark locks and savagely yanked back his neck.

"There is what I both love and despise about you, Erik, your backbone. I love it when it is arching under my thrusts as I bury my cock into that tight little ass of yours," a powerful smack was delivered to Erik's face with Stavros' free hand, "and I hate it when it seeks to question my authority."

Erik's face came back tear streaked, and he came face to face with his master's straining need, which Stavros had freed from the confines of his slacks.

Stavros leaned down to speak to Erik. "Pleasure me well, and I may forget this little incident," he crooned as he pressed on the back of Erik's head.

Reluctantly, Erik let himself be pushed forward, knowing that the price of his temper would be taken in the form of his screams. He could only hope they would be screams of pleasure. He took his master's need into his mouth and quickly let himself adjust to the invading shaft of flesh. He took the entire thing into his mouth, until his nose met the soft white curls at the meeting of Stavros' thighs. He bobbed his head a few times, before pulling back to lick at the head. All too soon he fell into a familiar pattern…before screaming around his master's arousal as he felt claws tear up his back, slicing deep gashes in his flesh.

"I said pleasure me, Erik. Do it, or don't, but don't do it half-assed!" Stavros shouted as a now bloodied hand grasped the back of Erik's head as he began to thrust into that warm cavern of moist heat, so much like the velvety bliss he'd soon be buried in.

Erik obeyed, quickly bringing his master to the edge of his control, but was then pulled away from him and tossed backwards. He felt warm lips descend on his and press gently, then crush down on his as they fought their way to a pliant tongue. He felt hands tear away the last shreds of his shirt and did not protest as these same hands hauled him upwards and bent him in half over the common room's desk. Erik gasped as his half-naked form was bent over his cold lacquered wood of his master's desk. "Master!" he cried out.

"Yes, Erik?"

"Please!" Erik begged. He was burning all over, not only from his master's stinging tortures, but also from the pure need that surged through his body, despite his digust. He was at once repulsed that he could get a hard on from something so base, so vulgar, so cruel…but so good. His cock ached within the confines of ever tightening slacks, and his master, rolling his hips and grinding his own arousal against his backside wasn't helping the matter. Erik shuddered when the warm touch of hands slid up his back. "Please Master, please!"

"You haven't told me what it is you want, dear Erik," Stavros replied as his tongue delved into the deep wounds on his creation's back. His hand movements had marred the pale creature's skin with streaks of blood, which Stavros was all too willing to clean away with his tongue and lips.

"Master, please!" Erik cried out once more. He yelped in surprise as he was turned onto his sore and bloodstained back, then moaned as his master's tongue swept over sensitized nipples. "T--take me…" Erik begged.

Stavros smiled he looked down to the dark haired vampire, his skin flushed despite the blood that he was being denied by the wounds on his back. He leaned down and placed a small kiss on Erik's chest. "Surely that isn't the best you can do, my little whore?" he chuckled.

"I--" Erik shouted as sharp teeth sank into the skin of his chest, piercing into the already tender and sensitized skin of his right nipple, and his dark master began to suck greedily. "Oh…fuck me…fuck me, please!" Erik moaned. His fingers threaded in Stavros' long white locks and wavered between tearing the vampire off of him or pushing him closer, forcing him deeper into blood-marred flesh.

Fangs were torn from skin as Stavros whirled Erik around and tore away his slacks. He paused only long enough to glance about and retrieve a small bottle of oil from one of the desk drawers. He stretched Erik's opening with oil slicked fingers, but just barely, before the digits were replaced by the pulsing head of Stavros' new erection. He pushed into Erik, not ever stopping to let the younger man adjust before pulling out and ramming his way back in.

Erik screamed and Stavros' turgid flesh surged into him, slamming into his prostate even as tears rolled down his cheek. "Oh yes…yes…Master! Don't stop, please don't stop! Fuck me, Master! Harder, faster, please!" The endless flow of words spilled out of Erik as Stavros' continued to thrust into him. Stavros wrapped a hand around Erik's own erection and pumped it in time with his thrusts as they came faster, and harder, deeper, and more and more gloriously violent by the minute…until both men exploded in screams and moans of passion.

Minutes later, Stavros was still hunched over Erik's back as they struggled to regain their breath. Stavros' licked at the wounds on Erik's back as they closed silently. "You'll always be my favorite puppet, Erik."

The younger vampire did not reply…