Night child

He’s laying so still against the bed, his arms twisted up behind his head in a painful way, tied to the bedpost with the chains of his own jewellery. The pale naked skin is bruised and streaked with shades of dried blood, his eyes closed, almost hidden beneath the mess of black hair. I’ve removed most of his clothes, only the boots and the leather coat is left on. I love the smell of leather mixing with the smell of blood, sex and fear.
He moans and moves weakly, stirring. He is so small and fragile looking without his clothes, his skin so pale compared to his raven black hair.
Beautiful. I desire him, desire him so much its almost painful. Slowly I kneel by his side, putting my arms around him and burying my face into his damp hair, I whisper his name gently, and let my tongue dart out and tease the sensitive skin of his neck. He starts trembling, his body is to weak from the beating and bloodloss. Perhaps I was to rough?
It would be such shame if he died now...

I can feel the smell of alcohol strong and sickly sweet on his breath. Sudenly his eyes snaps open and he stares at me in drunken shock and horror.
“ I won’t hurt you,e ste stuff...” I whisper into his soft hair ” I just want to play...and I know you want this...I know your desires...Miguel” His name is soft on my tongue and I whispers it repeatedly as if to memorise it. I circles his chest with the palm of my hand, stopping briefly to pinch a pierced nipple playfully ”That’s why I know you will enjoy this game...Nightchild” Grabbing his face in my hands I force him to meet my gaze. His pale gray eyes are sen fen from tears and wide with fear and confusion. His lips are bleeding and bruised. So tender looking. I bend closer and licks some of the blood away, kissing the corners of his mouth. My hunger awakes emediately att the taste of his flesh. He winches as I probe the wounds with my eager tongue.
“Fuck...Who ever you are....let me go damn it!” His voice is so faint, as if from far away, faint and hoarse. And yet he manages to make it sound like a demand when everything about him screams pain and weakness. He’s strong I notice with satisfaction.
“Stop this! Now!”

Such a defiant boy...and so much more fun to break.

“ Not yet...we haven’t even started...”
I smirk at the frantic look flashing in his eyes. He’s trying so hard not to beg for my mercy, he hates it. He hates the betraying tears slowly running down his cheeks and neck, he hates the way his breath is torn from him in small sobbing gasp. He hates being weak.
The fear in him is intoxicating. I don’t think he have fully realised what I am yet, he probably think I’m one of the usual street freaks thirsting for violence and violation of young flesh.

Well, my sweet Miguel...I am your dream given life...

I release him from my embrace and sit down between his naked legs. So slender and shaped. All muscles, sleek and firm.
He refuses to look at me now, bowing his head so that his eyes are once again hidden behind the curtain of silky black hair. Crimson stains colouring his Oh-so-pale face sweetly. I can hear his heart-beat racing madly and his every intake is as sharp and hoarse as if it was to be his last. He makes a strangled sound as I reaches out and touches him. Slipping my fingers along the sensitive, tense, flesh of his inner thighs. My hands are cold on his hot, living, skin. It feels like he is burning up.
He whimpers as I trace his member with the tips of my fingers and arches his back in a way that must hurt his tortured . Hi. His face is twisted in a amusing mix of pain, fear and shame. His eyes half lidded and heavy, still glazed by alcohol.
“...Fuck you...bastard....” he sobs, between gasps as I start stroking his unwillignly hardened flesh.
“ Not yet....” I replies smugly ”Don’t be in such a hurry...we’ll have all night...” I could have laughed out loud at his expression as I said that.
He squirms, silently begging for release but refusing to give voice to his need. He’s so beautiful to watch, No matter the bruises or the redness around his eyes. The traces of violence on his features does noting but enhance his beauty. The darkened, dried, blood staining his body here and there mixing with the scent of soap and rain. Finally he lets out a ragged scream, releasing pearly white droplets of life onto my hand.
I bring my fingers to my lips and licks it off. Warm, salty and bitter...Just like drinking his blood....which of-course is what I intend to do...but not quite yet. First I will fuck this boy-whore senseless...

He’s leaning back against the bed post, trembling violently in the aftermath of orgasm.
“Why...why are you doing this to me?” he gasps swallowing slowly as if with great dificulity ”I haven’t done you anything...I’ve never even seen you!”
“Because I want you...” I reply simply. It is the truth. I love the boys and girls of the night. The lost children roaming the streets wearing their black and shiny clothes, wearing their hair in spectacular colours and adorning themselves with metal and exotic accessories. They remind me of a time now lost, of a world where those such as I belonged....A world that the damned thief called Time so cruely has taken from us...That beautiful dark world...

He’s quiet now, watching me silently, intensely. His embarrassment of being undressed and tied up like this seems momentarily forgotten.
I bend closer so that our faces are close enough for me to feel his hot breath.
“Do you want to know what I am?” I ask calmly ” Do you want the truth?”
I see something flash behind his eyes and then to my satisfaction he nods...
I decide it is time to make things a little more comfortable for him. I’ve been quite rough on my beautiful human child.
There is blood running from his chained wrists down that pale skin. The reversed cross is sparkling with bright blood.
I reaches up abow his dark head and undo the chains, letting them fall to the floor rattling.
He sags into my arms grateful, naked, soft and weak. Feverishly hot and tempting.
I slip off his coat and the boots and lifts him on to the bed. Laying him down on the pure white sheets I straighten myself up to watch and savore him. My sacrifice. He stares emptily up at me as I undress, slipping out of my leather jacket and worn black jeans.
I let the clothes fall to the floor in a mess, like a snake shedding its skin. The pale light from the city outside makes my skin glow pale and cold.
My hair is falling into my eyes, blood red and raven black, reaching almost to my waist. Most of the skin of my arms are covered in black tattoos. But it’s not the kind of tattoo any human could ever get. They are marks of the magic that only I and those of my kin possess.
He doesn’t even blink as I sit down by his side on the bed.
He looks like a angel, his skin almost as white as that of the sheets. He’s cute but no where near innocent or virgin...In this world there is no such thing as pure anymore...

I take my place on the end of the bed.
To my surprise he seems to ready himself, parting his legs gingerly.
“Please...Just...Don’t grab me by the arms, I’ll pass out if you do...” his voice fails him and he turns his head away ”...You don’t want that to happen do you?” he murmurs softly. It does not deserva an answer. I grab his legs, carefully, lifting them to my shoulders.
He makes no move to resist me altough his face grow paler as I push three of my fingers into him, making way for the something that is much biger.
This might seem embarassing and odd, but in doing so, I will prevent him from tearing and bleeding too much...am I not mercyful?

Poising myself, I slowly pushes inside of him. I watch his face distorture in pain before he forces himself to relax and accept the intrusion.
My hands finds his member and I starts stroking it again. At this he shivers, his young teenage body sensitive to every little touch. His fingers are clawing weakly at the sheets and he is stifling his moans by biting his bottom lip. He is all wonderful, tight hotness and when I find what I was looking for inside of him a soft cry finally escapes that lovely mouth. His slender body is quivering as I hit that sweet spot repeatedly.
“ Ahhh...”he moans in a throaty way, and now the only expression on his previously tortured face is pure bliss. Yes, he\'s such a little whore for pleasure this one...no wonder I picked him out of the crowd...

I bend down licking at his collarbone and biting teasingly before grabbing him and quickly hoisting him up to stand on all fours. He arches into my touch and throws his head back, his vulnerable neck mines for the taking when I desire too. This perfect submissiveness is something I’d never expected from him. I feel him shudder beneath me, near to climax. I lower my face into the curve of his neck, drawing a deep breath and filling my lungs with the scent of him. It is time, if I wait any longer I might not be able to keep from ripping his entire throat open....I feel him go rigid with the pain as I bite down, my teeth sliding into his soft unprotected flesh easily. His blood fills my mouth in a hot flow. He whimpers and turn his head enough to stare at me. In his wide eyes, hazy by pain and shock, I can see something resembling triumph. Stupid boy. I am the answer to all his foolish, romantic prayers...I am his favorite nightmare.

He opens his mouth as if wanting to say something but then he lets out a strangled scream as he reaches his climax.
I feel his seed run down my fingers and suddenly his body goes limp. I hug him close as I kiss the last of the blood off his pearly white neck.
He’s weeping silently now, to exhausted to do other.
I feel his heartbeat slow and on that signal I stop. The wound remains open and ugly as I pull away. It will take lots of time and pain to heal and it will leave him with the same scar that is to be seen on my own throat....Annoyed pull out and let go of him, watching as he falls back on the sheets in a miserable heap.
He stares up at me with glazed eyes.
“Please…make me one of you…” he whispers, his eyes heartachingly wide and pleading. I slide of the bed, never watching him as I pull on my clothes. He doesnt know, I realise with a kind of sadness, that I’ve already infected him. It’s not as romantic as in the movies or the books after all. My seed, my body fluids are within him now, infecting is cells, changing him even as he’s laying there on the brink of death. But he will live, like me, to see another day on this hellish planet. I hear him whimper.

“D-don’t…leave…not now, I’ve waited…for so..l-long…” I turn my head to watch him over the shoulder. He’s nothing to me now, he’s as ruined as I. I can see the predator sleeping behind those human eyes of his, the demon will awake soon. The child that I have spawned.
“You won’t die…” I whisper. The way he’s staring at me, hopeful like a puppy waiting for a treat, really disgusts me. My poor, idiot child. Maybe I should do him a favor and kill him, but then again...he might actually survive long enough to kill and free me from my own hell. I smirk.
“Farewell my child...I doubt we’ll ever meet again.” With that I turn around and head for the door. Behind me I can hear a pitiful wail, but it is not the sound a human would make.
It strikes me that he’s my child after all, my first child. I’ve performed my dark magic and raped this human child...making him a demon like myself. But I hold no love for him nor anyone of my cursed kind. It is time to move on...