Begin and End
Warnings: Shotacon, Vampirism, Yaoi, Mature Themes
Author’s Note: The story written here is not intended for all to read. It is very mature in content as it deserves to be told, and there are several reasons why immature eyes should not come upon the content.
Life was beginning to bore me already, the endless procession of days and nights passing like they were nothing and leaving me unchanging. The changes in this modern world no longer interest me, humans already so predictable in what they do; beauty no longer so apparent than it was before. I would have cared no longer for their frailty because they seemed to grow stronger with all their advancements which left me baffled, their history and life already becoming so intricate, it would puzzle even a being such as I was.
Still… so much filth amongst them, so much boredom.
Nothing you couldn’t expect from someone like me. I dislike being bored, being alone, lonely and without adventure, without some form of excitement in my life. No one I could goad any longer and be incorrigible for. I could suppose the type of thrill that I crave for has been set at such a high standard, and even the rapture I gain from the hunt and the process of it no longer sates me.
Maybe it has become past the time that I should move on. Succumb to death because life is so boring, nothing more, nothing less. To live for nothing is wearisome, and if no one wants to take it away from me, I shall do it myself. Why shouldn’t I? Immortality belongs to me. Does anyone care if I meet my end? But pointless it will be if I pass on without my own legacy, without preserving my name, my legend, however arrogant that sounds.
Living past your prime isn’t so fun anymore because you feel weak.
I took it upon myself and decided that I should find someone worthy of my Blood so I could move on. Into the afterlife, is what they always say, and this has always been a mystery to everyone who has ever been truly alive, due to the simple fact that the opposite of life is death, after all.
I think I finally moved with a new sort of vigour which automatically seemed to regenerate some form of strength into me, this laziness and tiredness having seeped away from my bones already.
Facing my own reflection in the mirror was odd, because I was fully expecting myself to look worse for the wear, yet my appearance was still unchanging, my hair still blond, long and lustrous, though messy. My eyes still that same violet colour, my face and everything else still the same shape, and my skin is paler than usual from the lack of sustenance, veins somewhat prominent already underneath. Ah… how disgusting. I would never have lowered myself so much to look like this before, but circumstances change, and I’m tired.
I turn away from the mirror with a frown to dress myself, then gave another look to it again when I was done. All that hair, still messy… how unsightly. I took a pair of scissors from the table top and began hacking it off, pleased when I was done, leaving gold locks lying on the floor, knowing this was only a temporary physical change; it will all grow back tomorrow.
It is a painful reminder sometimes, yet it is a part of what made me a vampire. The monster that had turned me had taken and imprisoned me, and he ever so much liked to pet and stroke my hair and toy with it like it was a plaything. It most definitely grew to such a length as time passed, years I believed, grooming me for the Blood. His fascination with the gold colour of my hair was disgusting, and he picked me to be his heir just for the sake of my appearance. Did he care that he took me against my will? Did he even ask? He wouldn’t, he was crazed.
Time has long passed since then and yet I still think of such things. It was useless for me to berate myself of such thoughts that were invading my mind, and at such a time. I put on my coat and stepped out of my apartment, for the first time in days.
The air was cold yet I already knew it wouldn’t affect a being like me. It was stupid why I still clung to the notion of blending myself with humans when my very nature is different from theirs. I didn’t find my tired limbs putting into action anything at all, just walking on and on aimlessly down these streets. People stared at my pallor, how my veins bulged beneath my skin, but I could hear them brushing it off due to an illness.
Good. Believe what you want.
I ended up in the worse parts of town and saw filth around me. Disturbing as it was, I was part of them, part of a vicious cycle, predator and its prey.
Not only a few metres into this part of town, and already an old beggar was tugging at my coat and asking me for money. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, a sign of intoxication, and his grey eyes filled with cataracts. I smiled at him, pulling him into the dark alley to be feasted upon – I would be doing him a favour, wouldn’t I? I think I smiled at him as though to comfort, before sinking my fangs deep into his wizened flesh.
To be rendered old and helpless and physically weak is the fear of many. Who in the right mind would push away immortality for a short, human, and most definitely moral life? Living forever makes you a god of sorts, overseeing everyone’s lives and you dictating whether to give the Gift to a deserving person or not. How splendid! How utterly selfish!
I didn’t even bother to dispose of his body, letting him stay there to rot until people noticed. His blood running through my veins would make it difficult for me to end this later, much more painful, I knew – but it was pain I hadn’t felt for too long and I’ve spoiled myself too much.
Fall into routine again.
Hunt, brood, paint, fall into the death sleep near dawn. Tiresome. How utterly typical, too.
What was my plan again? To find a suitable fledgling and to pass on like my Maker did to me. Why hadn’t I done it already? Laziness? Fear?
I think I laughed as I pried myself away from the unfinished canvas I had been working on, putting a shirt on, uncaring of the coldness which hardly affect me and walking back into mortal civilisation. Same old things every time, I noted in displeasure. The same filth remains, hastening my want to get out of this place already. I was walking aimlessly, to the other end of the city, and for no reason it felt like I was about to be met with something important, vital, making my pulse race needlessly and sweat despite the cold.
It was when I saw him.
He was all legs and lips the first time my eyes fell upon his frame, and I was instantly attracted. How delicious. Was this how my Maker looked upon me for his selection in the past?
I noticed his long dark hair that fell into his eyes, pretty honey ones and pale skin. I noticed something amiss with his features, then realised his eyes were red with tears – my breath caught in my throat – I didn’t actually think anyone could look beautiful in tears. He was covering his face with slender hands and I could hear his soft sniffling, and it made me want to pull him into my strong arms and comfort him. He looked much too young too… but I hardly cared.
Here was perfection, and I didn’t think anyone else would make a perfect fledgling like he would. Thoughts of sadness and pain flickered his clouded mind, and I went up to him, taking out the handkerchief which I brought and offered him to him, this small gesture meaning comfort.
The boy seemed to accept it, pulling away from his crying and seeing me, his eyes flickering over my face and expression and seeming to gauge me before taking the cloth and wiping his eyes with it. It appeared that he was too choked up to speak for that moment, and I stepped back to register at this scene at which I am in.
Why would such a beautiful boy stand in the middle of the street crying alone, when he most probably had people that he could seek comfort from? He looked much too clean and well-dressed to be a street kid. That subtle elegance too, watching his movements as he returned the handkerchief back to me, and I spoke first.
“Are you lost?” I asked, my voice gentle and beguiling in its nature, and the boy looked at me shyly, still hiccuping adorably and averted his eyes away to look at his shoes. He seemed to be embarrassed. I smiled.
“No…” he whispered, and it seemed like he couldn’t speak anymore until I said something.
I brought him to sit down on the bench, because he must be tired from all that crying, and he probably thought I was odd, a stranger offering another comfort, so I simply smiled and kept my distance. “Why were you crying?” I asked him again, inching slightly closer, though subtly and not enough to breach his personal space.
“I…” Then he seemed to falter, sniffling again as though something had been brought to the forefront of his mind as he looked at me. He seemed helpless and innocent and beautiful in his sorrow, and I couldn’t help but to pull him into my arms in an embrace. He cried even harder, letting it all go, feeling his warm tears soak my shirt, but I hardly cared. He was warm.
He then pulled away as though embarrassed again, and I only gave him a reassuring smile when he seemed about to apologise. How polite, I thought, how perfect!
“Don’t be sorry,” I murmured, “I understand.” He smiled wateringly and I reached to brush away his tears. He flushed at the action and kept his head down demurely, like he was shy. Then I deduced he most probably was. Him being out at this hour alone made me think he was hiding from someone.
After a moment of silence and watching him, I decided to ask him again, trying my best to keep up pretences (here was a boy who most probably thought I was just a normal man). “It’s getting late,” I said, “Do you want me to help you find your way back home?”
His head snapped up to look at me and he shook his head, refusing. “I don’t want to go home,” he whispered, and seemed to curl in on himself, pulling the coat around his frame even tighter. Pity that I hadn’t brought my coat along, I would have covered him with it. It was getting colder and darker.
“You can’t possibly stay here all night,” I said, standing up and offering my hand to him. “If you trust me, I’ll bring you to my home. It’s getting cold.”
He didn’t seem like one for words. I definitely wasn’t surprised when he took my hand, his smaller hand in my cold one and looking up at me expectantly, and I remembered I hadn’t introduced myself to him yet.
“I am Cadmus,” I told him, smiling at him gently, hiding my fangs that belied my condition perfectly well. “What’s your name?”
“My name is DeLisle,” he said in return, and his sensual lips curved into a smile.
I thought I had lived to see everything, but I obviously was proven wrong. His smile was perfect, and I didn’t think I had ever seen anyone smile like him before. Innocence and beauty all in one. His smile disappeared when we walked down the more densely populated streets back to my apartment, and it was understandable.
What I wouldn’t do to see it again.
He seemed to like the touches I gave him, words I spoke to comfort him and stories I told. I couldn’t help painting images of him in different positions and with different expressions, doing it in secret, wondering what he would think if he knew of my obsession with him. What my paintings had been before had been devoid of light of any sort, full of dark dreams and of the night, but I found myself imagining and recollecting what the sun looked like, all to adorn him with. He was perfect to be complimented with the light.
DeLisle’s body fit perfectly in my arms, and when he sat in my lap he looked adorable, like he was meant to be there with me. He was constantly smiling in my presence, like he was perfectly happy being in my presence, despite my obvious oddities. I told him he could come and visit me after dusk, and he readily complied, without asking much of me. Just me being there with him pleased him. This dependence he had on me was startling, despite him having his own life too – he had his brother, he liked talking about him, rendering me envious sometimes.
It would be selfish of me to not tell him of what I was, what I intended for him to be. I would be too much like my Maker if I didn’t do so.
“I have a puzzle for you,” I spoke suddenly, one night when he was in my arms and perfectly content lying with me.
“Hm?” He peered up at me with large honey eyes and bit his bottom lip in that tantalising manner, and I ran my cold finger over it, purposely making him flush. “What is it, Cadmus…?” he asked me, with his lovely voice, twirling a lock of my hair with his finger, and I smiled at this childish movement.
“I want you to figure me out.”
I spoke these words with such certainty, placing it out there for him to deduce himself and take it any way he wanted.
“Um, is that the puzzle?” DeLisle asked me curiously, running his finger over his bottom lip and looking at me in that manner again, and I leaned in to kiss the side of his jaw, unable to resist. When had I ever been able to…?
“Yes,” I answered, and he laughed and wrapped his arms around my neck tightly.
“You give the weirdest puzzles,” he spoke with the tinkle of humour in his saccharine tone, his neck so close against my mouth briefly yet it tempted me so, with his rich and sweet blood coursing through his veins.
His neck tempted me, perfectly slender and his skin smooth all over, just like the rest of his body was. I laid a kiss on his pulse, cold against warmth, and he shivered in my arms, and I only kissed him there again intimately, making him shudder and whisper my name as my kisses upon his slender neck grew more heated.
DeLisle’s face was beautifully flushed when I pulled away, grasping his chin and pulling him into a kiss for the first time. How I had always wanted to do this, and he was so receptive to my kisses that I doubted he would protest… inappropriate thoughts of taking him was filling my mind already, arousing me, pushing him back up against the sofa and him looking at me with dark eyes that spoke of want as well.
I had to go gentle with him. I kissed him and made him shiver and moan with my caresses, undoing his shirt and revealing pale skin to me, cheeks perfectly rosy with what I was doing, heat reaching him everywhere as I noticed his arousal as I was unrelenting with my touches. His sensual lips were parted deliciously, moaning for me, moaning my name, kiss swollen lips that begged to be kissed again and I leaned up to claim them again.
He was sweetly receptive and I loved it. He was as hungry for my touches as much as I was for him. Lovely it was when he writhed in pleasure underneath him, with that flush still marked on his cheeks, bringing him to his climax with my hands and words and loving touches, and he seemed to want it all, greedy for my dominance over him. I adored it.
All my previous notion of wanting to end it all was pushed away to the backdrop with him being here with me, and I only waited for him to realise what I really was.
He faltered when I walked in from the studio a few nights later and looked up at me, and I noticed him trembling slightly. I was about to pull him into my arms like I always did, ask him what was wrong and kiss him but all my notions were cut short with the abruptly spoken words that fell from that pretty mouth.
“You’re a vampire,” he said, as though in wonderment and curiosity and fear at the same time. Ah, he had figured out the puzzle I had given him. My face was still impassive as I gazed on his beautiful face, coming closer and running my hand down the side of his cheek. He shivered sweetly, presumably at my coldness, yet there was still love in his honey eyes.
“I’m not afraid of it, Cadmus,” he murmured softly as he tugged me down to sit beside him, and he leaned in adorably to kiss my lips. He looked at me straight in the eye and stroked my hair as was usual with him, suddenly speaking words I would only have imagined of. “I want you to turn me someday…”
I must have shivered for him to give me that concerned look, and I smiled again. This was what I’ve always wanted. I didn’t even have to force him for him to accept this, and his face and body was already perfect for the Blood and it took nearly all of me to remain calm and pull him close, gently, murmuring the words that would never have come if I was as desperate still.
“Only when you’re ready.”
It was wordless when he decided to move in with me, and I readily accepted. He took to reading and singing in clubs (his voice was gorgeous and splendid) to pass the time, wearing beautiful clothes which adorned his body, showing each curve and only added to his allure, and I realised how even more startlingly beautiful he became as he grew older. Each time I could feel his presence around the house, even in my death sleep, and it comforted me.
He was never harmed by anything, I assured myself of that, taking measures so he was constantly safe. He was my responsibility, my fledgling to-be. His pretty skin was constantly marked by my kisses and I adored how beautiful he looked, getting even more seductive each time he presented himself in front of me, wanting to please me and rarely showing anger at anything due to his sweet gentle nature.
Yet each time I gazed upon him I knew he was impatient for me to turn him into one of my kind, and he was eager to feel what I felt. He was perfect and ripe to be my fledgling by now, having gone into manhood already, yet his figure was still fine and slender and feminine, beautiful all the same, my androgyne beauty.
He never saw me kill before, and even as I suspected his mind wasn’t as innocent as I thought, I hoped he would be well-prepared for what was to come. I could decipher what he was thinking sometimes, his own thoughts having been reflected in the conversations we had.
Such questions and curiosity he had of everything, of life, crying and laughing sometimes because of it, so passionate he had always been.
I looked upon his beautiful frame for a moment as he gazed out of the window wistfully, as though waiting for something, the Gift? — and I was the only one who could do it.
Testing his certainty was one thing, and forcing me to accept how much he wanted it was another. Imagine, someone to spend the same sort of ecstasy I felt when I drank blood, someone to ponder everything with… no more loneliness.
Nothing could ever be perfect, I knew, but at least this was better than the fate I had before. Push the past and all its pain away. Let it disintegrate on its own.
I bared a fang to him as I smiled, and he shivered at the little flashy movement. Without me beckoning for him to come forward he did, sitting on my lap as he was used to it, and revealed his neck to me, him having fully recognising my intent and my lips curved into a smile. He was made for me, perfect in his grace and beauty and desires, and I lusted him, his blood, and every single part of him.
I sank my fangs into his neck and I felt delirious with pleasure for the first time in a long moment, and it was then I knew I would have him forever.
End
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