All Hallows’ Even-2

“Do you trust me?” Lucien asked, closing the gap between them so that his breath blew gently against Christophe’s cheek.

“Yes.” As the word left his lips, Lucien’s mouth closed over his. Unknown passion and desire surged as if a spark had ignited dry tinder. Christophe’s hand fastened in hair the colour of midnight as he was lowered onto the bed. The nightshirt slipped, fully exposing one shoulder and a small pink nipple haloed by a rose-pink areola. Christophe cried aloud as sharp teeth nipped the innocent flesh only for a moist tongue to sooth the small hurt. He could barely believe that a touch to his breast would inflame his manhood, but he felt it stiffen as Lucien worshipped his nipples, ripping the shirt to reach the virginal flesh beneath. He moaned wordlessly, his head thrashing, as his breasts ached and throbbed in concert with the hardness between his thighs. A sharp bite to one reddened nub in concert with a tweak to the other and Christophe cried out and shuddered through his climax. He panted softly in the aftermath, trying to speak, to apologise, fearful that his untimely release would cause Lucien to abandon him.

“Beautiful,” Lucien husked. He locked his eyes with Christophe as he brought his fingers to his lips. He smiled at the wide-eyed gaze as he licked at the precious crème. “Sweet.” He offered his fingers to the young man and was pleased to see Christophe suck at them.

Christophe closed his eyes for a second as he considered his own salty taste. He opened them again to see Lucien naked. The older man’s nude body every bit as magnificent as Christophe imagined it would be. The coverlet was hurled from the bed, the nightshirt following and Christophe lay exposed to Lucien’s ravenous gaze. The younger man considered he should feel shy, but the love and lust in glittering grey eyes had him writhing with a need he could not name. He instinctively spread his legs, offering himself. He had no maiden’s portal for Lucien to unite their bodies yet he desired to house the long, thick shaft that hung hard and heavy between Lucien’s legs.

“For all the time I have lived I find I do not possess the words to adequately describe your beauty,” Lucien said, his voice a silken caress of Christophe’s ear. “Your skin is like the finest marble,” he continued, kneeling between the spread legs and stoking satiny inner thighs. “It is flawless, yet warm and living. Your face is more beauteous than any rendition of beauty I have seen by the best of artists’ hands. Your eyes are the blue of a cloudless sky and I could lose myself in their depths. Your hair is as soft as silk and as bright as the sun. I could never have presumed to have found one of such innocence and purity that could love me. That could be willing to share their body with one so dark as I. Tell me, my angel, let me hear your dulcet tones speak the words I have yearned for so many cold, empty years.”

“My body is yours, Lucien. I have no knowledge of how I might please you. But I trust you and I … I love you.”

Lucien groaned as if in pain and stretched to mate his mouth with his golden beauty. He felt warmth slowly seep into his heart, a feeling long since fled. As the kiss ended, he gazed into azure depths that held love and worry. He pulled one of Christophe’s hands over his breast and placed one of his over the slender chest of his mate.

“Feel how they beat in harmony, little one. My heart can only beat for the one I love.”

“Show me love, Lucien,” Christophe pleaded. “Make us one.” His body ached for this man in a way he was unable to understand or bear.

“I will, sweet one, I will,” Lucien promised, peppering small kisses over Christophe’s face. His lips kissed and nipped down the expanse of fragile flesh at the vulnerable throat. He sucked briefly over the thundering carotid. He nibbled briefly at the still red nipples, before descending lower. He stared avidly at the small, slender shaft that jutted from its nest of blond curls. Holding to slim hips, he enveloped the virginal flesh, the primal beast within appeased to be the only one to know this boy so intimately, would only ever be the one to have such intimate knowledge.

Lucien teased his lover with slow suction and swift licks. He nipped daintily at the sensitive underside and swirled his tongue over the smooth, domed head. He probed insistently at the tiny slit, his mate’s juices intoxicating and addictive. Dropping lower, his tongue explored the velvety sac, the precious orbs it contained high and hard. Lower again and he licked at the sensitive flesh between his mate’s sac and the hidden opening he was yet to explore. The impassioned cry reminded him of his lover’s lack of experience and he quickly engulfed straining flesh as Christophe found completion once more. Lucien drank deeply of the innocent offering, reluctantly releasing softening flesh. He kissed his mate, crooning pleasurably as leaden hands petted at his shoulders and back.

“You give me surfeit of pleasure, my lord,” Christophe murmured. “What can I do to please you?”

“Let me love you. Let me make you reach the heavens. I need to touch you intimately, to open and stretch you enough to receive my flesh.”

“I am ready, Lucien,” Christophe said.

With patience, tenderness and infinite care the older man began his preparations. Lucien poured oil onto his hand. Christophe jumped as a wet finger slid sensuously between his cheeks and probed at his entrance.

“Relax,” Lucien leaned forward to lick the head of his flaccid length.

Christophe jumped again at the unexpected action, but immediately sank back into the bed groaning. Lucien’s warm, wet mouth distracted him and before he knew it, his shaft was halfway enveloped within Lucien’s mouth and there was a finger fully inside him. Christophe let out a pained sound and tried to squirm away from the wanted invasion. Lucien’s finger felt too big. The finger moved and Christophe was on the verge of begging Lucien to stop when he sucked Christophe completely into his mouth.

“Oh,” Christophe cried, arching his back. Lucien pressed his hips down, further impaling him. Christophe moaned at the sensation. The finger still felt large, but it was no longer painful. Then, Lucien crooked his finger. The pleasure shocked Christophe. Stars exploded behind his eyes and he let out a cry that he was sure could be heard in the heavens. His body convulsed and shook. “What was that, my lord?” Christophe gasped when he could able to speak again. His mind was still a morass from the jolt of unexpected delight.

Lucien stroked the jewel within once more. Another cry freed itself from Christophe’s throat as his body received another pleasurable jolt. “That is your prostate.” His finger curled and hit the spot again, making Christophe twist in the sheets and pant harshly. “A special sweetness for us to enjoy, my love.” Lucien resumed sucking Christophe, his tongue doing wicked things to the head of the now fully resurgent shaft.

“Lucien” he whimpered, threading one hand again into his lover’s hair. He needed something to anchor himself. More oil was poured onto his entrance and then a second finger slowly pushed into him. Christophe bit his lip, expecting pain once more, but experiencing only fullness. He relaxed a little as Lucien scissored and twisted his fingers, probing deeply, yet mindful of keeping pain to a minimum.

Lucien added a third finger and Christophe’s hand tightened in his hair at the strain. Three fingers were uncomfortable. He lifted his hips a little to ease the pressure and inadvertently pushed his hardness deeper into Lucien’s mouth. He let out a soft sigh of pleasure. He pumped his hips slowly, enjoying the feel of his flesh moving wetly in and out of his lord’s mouth. He barely noticed the fingers moving inside him and jerked when they pushed against his jewel.

Christophe shook and gasped, pleasure was building up so fast inside him that he squeezed his eyes shut and his teeth ground tightly together. Lucien withdrew his fingers from his body and pushed Christophe’s legs up so his knees were aligned with his shoulders.

“I want you to get me ready for you,” Lucien said, taking one of Christophe’s hands and pouring the remaining oil into it, “Rub it on my manhood.”

Christophe stared at his hand and then at his dark lover. He reached forward hesitantly as if afraid he trespassed. His fingers slid slowly around the engorged flesh. Christophe took comfort from the realisation that it felt no different from his own shaft. He was amazed at its heat, as if the fire of desire was at its core. His hand slid up and down slowly, his eyes seeking continuous approval for his actions and he was emboldened by the groans of appreciation that spilt from the more experienced male’s lips.

Lucien removed Christophe’s hand once satisfied he was sufficiently oiled and before the innocent, virginal touches could ignite him to climax before entering his lover. He positioned himself at Christophe’s entrance. With a deep breath from both of them, Lucien began to push slowly, but steadily into Christophe’s body.

Christophe’s eyes watered at the burn but he let out no sound. He wrapped his legs around Lucien’s waist as directed. He had never felt so full before. Pain began to ease and the feeling of pressure decreased. He shifted his hips for a better position, causing Lucien to move inside him. His eyes fluttered open in surprise as the movement made his sheath contract against Lucien’s hardness. As Lucien was fully enveloped, each man felt himself become complete; all the cold, dark places in each becoming filled with warmth and love. Lucien rocked carefully into his lover’s beautiful body.

“Lucien!” Christophe cried as his lover’s shaft nudged his sweet spot. Pleasure swept through his body, rolling in continuous waves around him. Lucien withdrew a little further and pushed in a little harder, moaning softly. Little mewls spilt from Christophe’s mouth as Lucien repeated his actions over and over. “Lucien,” he moaned again.

“Let me love you,” the older man continued. He continued to rock against his mate until, with a shuddering cry of his name, Christophe came again and wet heat spread between them. As the tight sheath clenched around him, Lucien gave a primal bellow, fastened his teeth at Christophe’s throat and poured his essence into the still-trembling body.

Christophe gave a wanton cry, firstly from the hot juices filling his body and then at the suckling at his throat. He knew he would wear his lord’s brand of possession the next day. He felt light-headed and floating and only slowly realised that Lucien was still buried inside him…and still hard.

“No more, my lord,” he begged. “I surely cannot bear your pleasure again.” He gave a guttural groan as Lucien’s hand unerringly found his sated flesh, beginning a steady stroking that caused his limp length to begin to twitch at the touch.

‘Once more, beloved,” Lucien crooned. This time his undulations became harder and deeper.

Christophe was barely aware of Lucien’s never-ending thrusts. Every touch he felt, every sensation coalesced into a single sensation of ecstasy that enveloped his entire body. Then, Lucien lifted Christophe’s legs over his shoulders and pounded into him with all his strength. Christophe wailed his appreciation with a deafening cry. His body was shaking, he was hard again, and Lucien was fisting him as he slammed into his body, both men groaning loudly.

“Tell me you want this, want me,” Lucien demanded, his hips ramming into Christophe’s heat, his hand stroking at the rigid rod.

“More than anything … more than anyone,” Christophe vowed.

“Tell me more,” Lucien demanded.

“I ache for you, I burn for you. It is an all-consuming fire within me. I need you more than breath,” Christophe panted, his head thrashing from side to side, small hands griping tightly to his bigger mate.

“Your words inflame me, my love,” Lucien growled. “I would hear still more.”

“I cannot bear it, my lord. Lucien, please, spill your seed within me, give me release.”

“If I offered you eternity with me, would you take it?” Lucien persisted, continuing his erotic assault.

“Yes, yes, with open heart and open arms. Give me your seed, Lucien.” He screamed as a cataclysmic climax stormed through his slender frame. He shook and shuddered, the tiny trickle of his seed no reflection of the enormity of his release. He felt the wet heat surging through his bowels as Lucien’s seed flooded his body. He moaned as Lucien’s teeth once more latched at his throat and a lassitude began to settle over him leaving him floating between awareness and oblivion. His eyes fluttered closed and silence descended in the bedchamber.


A small whimper escaped into the darkness. Christophe tried unsuccessfully to open leaden eyes. A caress to his brow settled him instantly and a loving voice was in his ear.

Softly, my love. I am here. You are too weak to move. You need to feed and rest once more.”

Christophe panted with need, as a hunger he had never felt before swept through his body at the coppery scent that suddenly permeated the air. He sucked greedily at the warm elixir.

“Not too fast, angel,” Lucien crooned and laughed softly at the low growl of displeasure as he removed his wrist from Christophe’s mouth. He kissed the pale lips, licking at them, tasting himself and cradled the small, cool body closer to his powerful frame. “Sleep in my arms, beloved. When you next awake, we will face eternity together.


The next morning a small procession left the village to go to the sacrificial pole. Some already cried for the loss they knew they would find; the loss of another bright, young innocent. Others were concerned that the priest was not in his lodgings, but took solace in the suggestion the prelate was probably already praying over Christophe’s corpse. As they approached the site, the party split into two. Those that ran shrieking back to the village in fear and those who remained in stunned shock and disbelief.

The pole to which Christophe had been bound was snapped in half like a dry twig. Instead of the golden youth, it was the priest’s body they found, throat torn out as if by some huge, fell beast. Yet no beast of four legs could have impaled the priest’s dead body on the remains of the pole imbedded in the ground, nor could it have penned the message, in dated, ornate script, that was fastened to the copse’s chest.

‘A curse on you and your village. You embraced evil and fed it those you should have fought to the last to preserve; your innocent and your pure. Instead you gave them willingly in a sacrifice that was neither needed nor warranted. Search not for Christophe for he has been taken far from your reach. He will never be hurt by you again.’


The words proved prophetic. In less than the turn of a year the village was nothing more than a graveyard of empty, rotting and decayed buildings. It was devoid of and shunned by humanity. Its name uttered in whispers and associated forever with the depravity it had nourished. The name of Christophe passed into legend. All that was ever found of the youth was the coarse shift he had been forced to wear.

Many miles away, in a castle that had been little more than an ornate crypt and was now a home, a being of the night that had once walked in solitude and shadow marvelled anew at the naked, golden form of his sated lover. Lucien bent once more to drink his fill of kisses from lips that spoke of love and devotion. Christophe smiled contentedly and tugged his lover’s head down for more intoxicating kisses as the dark male pulled back. Lucien gazed with adoration at the beautiful young man that illuminated his life and warmed his heart. A day did not pass that Lucien failed to offer thanks to the guiding force that led his steps one fateful year ago. The ancient vampire and his chosen mate knew neither would ever know coldness or loneliness ever again.

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