Hunger

“Hunger”
by Mychael Black

One thousand and I didn’t look a day over twenty-five. No wrinkles, no gray hairs. Just a few scars from a life long-passed. They were faded reminders of battles fought and won. Well, most of them had been won. The last? It was what put me here, on the road to eternal life. And eternal loneliness.

In a thousand years, I’ve had countless lovers: peasants, nobles, stableboys, whores, even two kings. But none of them filled the void within me. Something was always missing, something vital that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

By the year 2005, I had all but given up. Sitting in a dark windowseat, of an even darker house, I was contemplating suicide. My home was quiet enough for such introspection. There’s a distinct advantage to people believing your home is haunted; an even bigger advantage when the city officials are too terrified to tear it down.

Needing to feed only once a month left me plenty of time to think. And to play. My amusement of choice came in the form of fucking with the kids, the ones who dared each other to come close enough to look into the front bay window of the rotting, haunted Magnolia House. A fleeting glimpse of…something…would send them off. I could hear their screams two blocks away, and many times, I laughed until I hurt.

The first time I realized I wasn’t alone, I didn’t know what to think. I felt the pull–an irresistible need to find out who–or what–had stumbled into my hunting grounds. Atlanta was mine and I wasn’t interested in sharing.

The first night I saw my new visitor, I was hunting. Body and hunger sated, I was making my way back home when I noticed movement in a shadowed corner where two derelict warehouses met. Curiosity got the better of me and I moved closer. That was my first mistake. Fingernails sharp as broken glass sliced through the sleeves of my coat as my attacker slammed me back against a wall. Full moon overhead? I knew what had me.

My second mistake? Finding a dangerous sort of beauty in the yellow eyes staring back at me. I should have run, but I couldn’t. Couldn’t look away from him. But he was hungry; I knew that look as well. Before I had a chance to react, he struck.

My head slammed back against the wall of the warehouse as his teeth sank into my throat. When I tried to fight back, a hand shot up, pinning me with a death grip. His body, muscular and hard as steel, ground into mine, like he was determined to fuck me through the wall. And there was no doubt in my mind–I would have let him.

I wanted him. I wanted him so much that I would anything to get him.

My assailant jerked away from me so suddenly it left us both dazed. He stumbled backward; hunger, fear, confusion, all warring with each other in his eyes. Oh, he still looked like a man…to an extent. His body was certainly that of a man’s, clothes shredded and hanging in rags from an imposing frame. Thick ebony fur covered his exposed chest, tapering off the lower it got. By the time my gaze reached the waist of what were once jeans, I could see the hair was sparse, and I couldn’t help but wonder if those thick curls surrounded his cock.

Only when he growled did I realize I was staring, quite intently at that. His arms were not as thickly-covered, nor were his legs. He was not fully shifted, but his teeth were down, canines that looked like they could tear steel into shreds. I lifted a hand to my neck. The wound was already closing, and the look in his eyes turned to cautious curiosity.

“What are you?” Oh. A man could come just from listening to that voice. Pure, thick, deep. When he spoke, I could feel the vibrations in my own chest.

“I am certainly not your kind,” I said, watching in utter fascination as half-shifted wolf gave way to a man. The black hair lessened to a light dusting over his chest with the same small patch stretching down his torso. Canines receded, while the eyes remained a watchful yellow.

“You are not human.” He shivered slightly, but for the moment, I resisted the urge to go to him. Instead, I took off my coat and held it out to him. He looked at it, then at me.

“Take it. Cold does not affect me.”

One thick-muscled arm stretched out to snatch the leather coat out of my hand. How I wanted to taste him, to feel those long fingers deep inside me…

“Why?”

The question admittedly caught me offguard. “A wolf can survive extended periods of cold, but a man cannot. Would you care for somewhere to sleep? Perhaps some…less worn…clothing?”

“Why?” Damn, but this man had too many questions!

“Is your vocabulary so limited? I’m sure I could arrange for a tutor or-“

“My vocabulary is just fucking fine,” he growled, baring teeth, body tensing.

I shook my head, clicking my tongue at him. I wondered how far I could push him until he got tired of me and finished the job he’d started on. “Come now,” I chastised him. “Is that any way to treat someone trying to help you?”

A deeper growl was all the warning I had before I found myself captive, quite literally. He had both of my wrists in one hand and I could feel the delicate bones popping and grinding as he held my arms above my head. With his other hand, he ripped my shirt right down the front and tossed the shredded remains to the ground. Personally, I prefer kisses easy and gentle, with the intent to explore and taste. All that changed the second his mouth crushed mine, teeth biting and scraping, tongue so deep I was sure I was going to choke.

But God, I wanted more. Devour me. Rip me to shreds. Just don’t stop kissing me.

He was hard against me, cock feeling impossibly big, throbbing against my own. With his other hand, he freed us both, then long fingers coaxed us to release. I came first, screaming into his brutal kiss as blood mixed with saliva. Only a second later, he jerked away and howled, throat arching as liquid heat spilled over his fist and our cocks. That neck, so irresistibly inviting… I gave him no warning, just bit down, body shuddering as his blood, rich and thick and sweet, poured over my tongue. I’d only had a quick taste before he pulled me away, yellow eyes narrowed in warning.

Then he was gone. Just like that.

The last I saw was a sleek black wolf as it disappeared around a corner. At my feet was my leather jacket. I bent to pick it up and on an impulse, I sniffed it.

Him.

His scent was all over it–his sweat, his blood, his seed, him. I looked toward the end of the alley and smiled. We would meet again. Of that, I had no doubt. Draping my coat over one arm, I left the alley, mind on nothing but a wolf in man’s clothing. Whatever had possessed me only moments before to want such a dangerous creature still had its talons deep inside me. I was so lost in my thoughts–remembering his smell, his taste, his touch–that I didn’t realize I was home until I looked up to see the rotting carcass of Magnolia House.

Just before slipping through the gap between the iron gate and the brick wall to which it was attached, I looked out into the dark street. Something within me hoped he was out there, watching me with even half the interest I now had in him. Neighborhood teenagers were fun to scare, but fear can be a two-edged sword–sweet and bitter and oh-so-addictive. My new visitor? He inspired fear…and hunger and desire. Halloween was coming soon. I wondered, as I closed my front door behind me, if I would run into my visitor. I hoped I would.

* * *

If I had to pick a favorite holiday, hands down, it would be Halloween. It was the only time I could go out and blend in perfectly. No one batted an eye if they suddenly found themselves dancing with a vampire. In terms of costumes, mine was far from the most outrageous. So, with a ruffled poet’s shirt, tight black pants, black boots, and cape, I went out to see what sort of fun I could pick up. Sometimes feeding ended in death for the unfortunate soul stuck with me, and sometimes… Well, sometimes, I had a bout of goodwill.

Finding myself in one of the more festive nightclubs downtown, I mixed and mingled, flashing fangs at those who looked hard enough. No one believed they were real, and that was fine by me. Finding a very good representation of a medieval lord, I took him out onto the dance floor. He was lacking. Very lacking. I quickly became bored, and I imagine he did as well, considering he left without me quite noticing. My attention had been well-diverted to the front door.

There he was. My new visitor, the tempest I had collided with in an alley only two nights before. His clothes were much more fitting, almost tailored to his body. Now he did look like a lord, moving easy in his skin. Much different from the creature I had encountered before. No longer in tattered jeans, he wore pants of rich burgundy. His shirt was white, opened just enough at the top to make my mouth water. Lord, but he was predatory, even in this form. Yellow eyes scanned the room. Then that stare settled on me. I could feel it sweep over me and a shiver followed it, from the soles of my feet to the ends of my hair.

Before I knew he had even moved, I was flush against him, our bodies sliding and grinding in time to the pounding rhythm of the house music. He was already hard, hungry. I could see it in his eyes, the way he stared at me. For him, I would spread myself out as a banquet.

“Now will you tell me who you are?” he asked. Even in human form, his voice was beyond mesmerizing.

“Ian Godwin, at your service.”

He smiled at that. I should have been worried.

“And you?” I barely managed to get the words out before I was flat against a wall, his mouth over mine, tongue probing deep. He never stopped moving, never stopped dancing, grinding his body against mine as we kissed. When he finally broke the kiss, we were both breathless.

“Gabriel,” he said, mouth moving over my chin, my throat, teeth nipping. “Gabriel Devereaux.” Then he stopped just as his lips brushed over my jugular vein. “Delicious,” he growled softly.

Twisting my fingers in his hair, I pressed his mouth to my neck, all but begging to feel his teeth sink into my flesh. He obliged without a word, tongue flicking out to taste before his fangs pierced my skin. The movements of his body mirrored the rhythm of his feeding: hard and almost desperate. His hands slid under my shirt, hot against my chest, my sides. I felt every sucking pull from my neck to my cock, the steady rhythm driving me mad with need. When he pulled away this time, he was kind enough to lick the wounds, urging them to heal.

“Come.”

It was a single word that held many meanings for me at that moment. I followed him out of the club and we walked quietly for half a block before stopping at the opening to another alley. Not quite my idea of a long night of fucking, but then he flashed me a toothy grin and stepped through a door I hadn’t even realized was there. Reaching out of the darkness inside, he took my hand and pulled me into the warehouse.

It wasn’t quite as dismal on the inside as the outside suggested. In fact, it wasn’t far from what my own home looked like. We walked deeper into the interior of the warehouse via a narrow hallway. When the hallway opened up, we were in what must have been a lobby. Gabriel led the way through a door on the right and into an office. A single mattress, rather well-kept, sat on the floor near the middle of the room. Boxes were stacked, some waist-high, along the walls. After closing the door behind us, Gabriel leaned against it, pulling me back against him.

“You have fed?” he asked, breath blowing over my right ear as he began to undress me. His fingers deftly worked open my pants, letting them fall to the floor. Long fingers curled around my cock, he stroked me slowly, every slow slide of his hand drawing another shudder up my spine.

“I do not need to feed now. Once a month is enough for me.” I sucked in a sharp breath as his fingernails scratched my shaft. Looking down, whatever words I might have thought to say, caught in my throat as I watched claws stroke over me, leaving bright trails of blood in their wake. Fire blazed through me when his fist closed around me again, my blood the perfect lubricant.

“Fuck me,” I heard myself say.

A dark chuckle was Gabriel’s only answer as he pushed me toward the bed, releasing my cock. I was painfully hard, more so when I looked down to run my finger through the blood. I brought my hand to my lips to lick it clean, shivering as the taste settled within me. I heard his clothes drop to the floor and then Gabriel had me pinned to the wall. He kept one hand on the back of my neck and spread my legs with his foot. Two fingers slipped into my mouth and I sucked on them, wetting them, moaning as more of his taste seeped into me. Then the fingers were pushing deep inside me, curling to stroke over my gland roughly.

I jerked and shouted, body tensing as Gabriel fucked me with his fingers, torturing me until I was near begging. He pressed close and laughed, tongue sliding along my shoulder. Then sharp, searing pain shot through me as he thrust inside me. I threw my head back and he bit down on my throat, drinking deeply as he pounded me into the wall, thrusts hard and unrelenting. I reached back with both hands and grabbed his hips, using what leverage I could find to entice him. When he thrust in, I met him, backing into him as his cock stretched me to the point of pain.

He was not feeding. I realized that when I felt no pull, no flow of blood. Lord above, he marked me. Somehow, some way, I was now his. I cried out as I came then, my cock spasming as my body sucked him in deeper, demanding his release as well. With a guttural growl that echoed into my soul, he gave in, throbbing deep inside me as he filled me with his seed.

It took us both several seconds to gather enough wits to move. He pulled out of my neck first, then out of my ass. I slumped against the wall, panting and shaking. I heard him drop to the mattress and he laughed as he fell back. I could only stare at him in bewilderment. When had the tables turned? I felt like I missed something, but at the same time, I felt like I finally had caught something quite important.

(c) 2005 Mychael Black

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