Big city

“That\'s a good boy,” Enoch said when he finally drew away.

“Am I...dead?” Logan stuttered.

Enoch smirked. “Silly mortal. No. If you take a sip of a bottle of wine, is the bottle empty? You are very far from being dead. I will not do it here. It would have no style. No, you must come with me to the House. And I seriously hope I won\'t have to hypnotize you or drag you. Will I?”

“N...no, sir,” Logan whispered.

“Good. Then come. Give me your hand. The less you fear the more enjoyable it will be. One out of thousand or ten thousand is granted the immortal fate of a vampire. Feel proud, Logan Chase. Feel very proud.”

But Logan just felt scared and his stomach rumbled and he was so sick that he would have almost thrown up. He was also dizzy and at least partially under Enoch\'s influence. Drowsy. So tired.

“I... don\'t care any more,” he said. “Do with me what you will. Just let me...sleep.” And he slumped down, or would have, if Enoch hadn\'t moved and caught him just in time. The vampire sighed.

“Giving in already. No fight at all. How pathetic. Oh Grace, Grace.”

He picked up the lad, carrying him like a rag doll. Nobody really dared to pay attention to a vampire walking in the rain and carrying a body of a pretty human male.



**



“Come. Come now! Don\'t keep me waiting!”

A demanding succulent voice from a very beautiful woman. Grace was seductive, alluring, she was everything a normal man – or in her case – a vampire could dream of. Slender, wide hips, big boobs, tiny waist, mane of black hair, tanned, big eyes, juicy lips. Body of a goddess, everybody told her.

“You are all set and ready. Come. Take me. Oh god damn you, Kirk!”

Grace was growing impatient. Why on Earth was his lover taking so much time to admire her body instead of just taking her, tossing her on the bed and fucking her senseless.

She\'d taken him for his size and beauty. Unfortunately one couldn\'t get everything, so Kirk lacked of brains. Oh well, he was a commoner, almost a Freshman, so what could one expect? Nothing.

“Stop that, Kirk. If I want my nipples to be pinched I\'ll do it myself. Really. Just fuck me. Fuck me, you son of a bitch.”

She knew he loved when she talked dirty. Then again, Kirk loved everything about her. In case he was capable of love, of course. She doubted in it. She sought a dream, but she couldn\'t just find it. Not any more. There had been Enoch. Had been. When they were younger and dating, and even within the first few hundred years of their marriage... He\'d loved her. She\'d been mad about him. She still was, but she was no longer certain if it was the man or his memory. How passionate their lovemaking had been, how violent. Enoch had used to grab her, slam her against the wall, tear her robes into shreds in case there was something to be torn, lift her up against him, penetrate her with such might that she felt she\'d be torn apart just like her clothes and then Enoch had fucked her. For hours. For eternity.

How naïve she\'d been. No eternity lasted for ever. None.

So now there were lovers. One buffoon after another. Just like this one. Choose them by their looks or most likely, by the size of their members. And Enoch – he was being so ignorant that he hadn\'t known until yesterday, or so he claimed. How blind, how stupid could a man be? Her man.

No, no longer hers. What had happened, she never knew.

“Take me, you bastard!”

And Kirk tried, but he was afraid of her. They all were. In love, in lust, afraid to hurt her! She LOVED being hurt. She could take the tension in her body no longer so she slammed Keith down on the bed and mounted him, pushing his dick ball deep into her cunt. She rode him, but she did not see him. She saw Enoch. She always saw Enoch. She spoke to him while riding upon another cock.

“You shall fall, my love. Your time is over, your time is due. You have failed me, betrayed me, and I shall have my vengeance. I shall cast you into dust, my beloved Enoch, and then I will come down and ride upon you and I will drive a stake through your heart while I fuck you. I wanted you to be my lord. Now you shall be my pet. Once I am done with you, this is what you shall be. My slave. My wonderful, wonderful slave!”



**



Xavier slept. He dreamt.

It was a really strange dream, rather a nightmare. There was a misty haze and he was lying on bare cement, chained down by wrists and ankles. Echo of a voice, perhaps a choir. No, a single. Calling his name. But he couldn\'t wake up. Laughter.

Lips on his neck. Then pain. More pain, and he was too sleepy, too tired to fight. He tried to wake but he couldn\'t. His sleep was too heavy, he couldn\'t break out of the mist.

His blood, his precious blood was being sucked out of his body. He became one with the one doing it. He was naked, and the one straddling him was, too.

Emmanuel. Yes, wasn\'t he? He whispered that name so softly.

Xavier.

Cold hands upon his body, fondling him.

Weaker, weaker.

Must...wake.

But he only wished to close his eyes and sleep. Then it would all go away. Inside a dream it was all good what was done to him. No life crushed, just a sexy vampire sucking his blood and pleasuring him.

I am dying, he whispered.

Yes, somebody nodded. You are.

OK, he said. OK. I don\'t bloody care. Just kiss me. The kiss of death.

Emmanuel laughed. But Xavier just fell from his hands into the abyss. It felt good, too. He was free.

A dream of death, how ridiculous.

Unfortunately, there was also the awakening. Blood filled his mouth and he feasted upon it. More! Give me more, he begged. Emmanuel laughed.

“It is enough. You will not die any more. You are dead, mister Ford. You are a vampire now, Xavier. Will be. Your body will die tonight and by morning you will be one of us.”

He heard it, still too weary to think or say anything.

“I shall leave you hear, chained up so that you would not hurt yourself too bad. So that you would feel your body dying and be helpless. By the morning you shall be tame. Mine. My little child. My lover, should I wish so, for I am your Maker, Xavier. Isn\'t it wonderful?”

Emmanuel laughed and walked out of the cell, leaving Xavier behind. Before leaving the hallway he stopped, though, and chuckled.

“By the way, you are an exquisite kisser, Xavier. I thoroughly enjoyed our little make-out.”



**



Three men stood on a hilltop gazing down at the city and its surroundings. Their loyal bikes were by their side, cloaks and hair heavy of rain.

“How long do you plan to keep watch here, Shawn,” one of them asked.

“As long as it takes to see Xavier return to me,” the middle one replied firmly. He was tall, appeared noble and proud. He was also quite young, about seventeen or eighteen. The two beside him were quite some years older, twenty-five or so.

“What if he won\'t come,” a blond one said. “We saw tracks of at least twenty vampires. He was obviously outnumbered. He is probably dead, Shawn.”

Shawn drew his gun and pointed it at the blond one, who jerked.

“Say that again! Say that again, Drew, and I\'ll blow your fuckin\' brains!”

“Hey, hey, Shawn. Drew. Calm down, guys,” a shorter guy on Shawn\'s left told them. “We\'re all comrades. Shawn, you\'re worried, we know. Drew – shut your fuckin\' mouth, really. We have no evidence that Xavier has been killed. I\'ll believe it when I see his dead body, and then I\'ll double check, cause he\'s such a cunning bastard.”

Shawn pulled away and sheathed his gun.

“Thanks, Emory,” he whispered. “Drew, you can go back if you want. Really. I know very well there\'s someone waiting for you. Someone with big tits and tight pussy.”

Drew grunted. “Hey, don\'t you call Rose a pussy. She\'s a mercenary, just like you. Just that she ain\'t screwing around with the Chief.”

Shawn almost pulled his gun again, but Emory placed a hand upon his fingers and the sheathe.

“Well fuck,” Drew cursed. “I\'m out of here. You\'re a nutcase, Shawn. Just that you know!”

“Fine. Go. Get the hell out of here before I fuckin\' shoot your balls off, you wuss.”

Emory sighed heavily. “Stop it. Drew – go. It\'s OK. Just go.” And when the blond had walked off, spitting, he continued. “Shawn, you\'re a really nice boy, smart and pretty and damn good mercenary, but you\'re a way too trigger-happy sometimes. Hold yourself together. Patience is a virtue, you know that. I know it\'s Xavier, I know you\'re worried, we all are, but put out some good example. You go exposing that gun around and next thing we have is a bloody massacre.”

Shawn sat down on the muddy ground and looked up at Emory.

“You\'re a strange guy, you know that. Anyone else in your shoes would hate my guts and probably want to shoot off my head... And still you\'re here as my good pal, you\'re damn loyal to Xavier though he dumped you for me... I really don\'t get you, Emory.”

Emory chuckled. “Well, to be honest, at first I badly wished to put a bullet or two in your pretty head, Shawn. But then I looked at the two of you, I really looked at you and I saw that you made him happy. The way I never had. We\'d been just fuck buddies or so. But he loves you, Shawn. You make him happy. And above all, even above my happiness I wish him to be happy and content. Besides – I care about the gang. We\'re Blood Brothers. And not just by name. You\'re my little brother, Shawn. So is Xavier. That\'s it.”

Shawn smiled.

“So... you say he\'ll be back?”

Emory nodded. “He will. He\'s about as immortal as those suckers. I\'ve seen him take six bullets in a fight and still walk off, victorious. He\'s the best mercenary in town, Shawn. And when it comes to wits, then he\'s as cunning as a devil. He\'ll be back, Shawn.”

For some time Shawn sat in silence. Then he looked up again.

“Emory?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks, man.”