The following is, of course, totally fictional. Any resemblace to actual persons is highly unlikely, and in any case unintentional.
Eternal Kiss
I don't know what's worse- having to rely on blood to continue my existence or never being able to see the sun again. Most of the crap you read or watch about vampires is 100% bullshit, but the parts that are true are pretty damned annoying (for vampires, anyway). You see, I happen to be a bloodsucking denizen of the night, in case there was any doubt in your mind so far. I don't prowl the streets feeding on unsuspecting drunks or prostitutes, although I've known a few in my time who have. I prefer the glitter of the city, the intrigue and glamour of nightlife in cities like New York, London, Paris, and especially San Francisco. I travel around a lot, since what I do for my living isn't looked upon very kindly. So I've seen most of the world in my 300-some years on Earth. You'd think I'd be bored with it all by now, but you'd be wrong... dead wrong.
People change, places change, times change. I lived, in a manner of speaking, through the Enlightenment, the age of Imperialism, and the Industrial Revolution. So much has happened since I was first brought forth from my mother's womb that it would take years just to tell you my experiences alone. What I will do for you is this- tell you one tale of lust, passion, and awakening that will have you calling me a liar one minute and wanting to bed me the next. Let me just say this before I begin. If you don't want to believe the story, or can't believe it, then don't read any further. It's that simple.
Let me first describe myself to you, so that you may envision the events that will unfold with greater clarity. My name is Gabriel, and I come from England originally- London to be exact. I'll spare you my considerable history there. Suffice to say that I am English, born and bred, and I still speak with an accent to this day. I have the look of a distinguished older man (older for my time that is, meaning 40 or so), with shoulder length curly light brown hair and a close trimmed moustache and what they call a goatee these days. I am trim and tall, with proud and straight bearing, and I have a terrible tendency to look down at people. I assure you it's only a habit from my life as a mortal and not a feeling of superiority, although if you knew me you would see why it could be that. To finish this rather long description of myself that was only supposed to last a few lines (I have a tendency also to run on at the mouth a bit), I have clear blue eyes, a Roman nose, and a tremendous singing voice. There you have it, and now on to the important parts.
Several years ago, perhaps in nineteen hundred and forty-five... Yes, it was just the end of the Second World War. Horrific business that. I had successfully stayed out of the fighting, but had several colleagues who had gone over. I was still in England then, and had my own place of business that catered to all the young men going off to war. I called it "Angel's" because of the fact that I was named after one of the archangels. I don't know what exactly they would be called now, but then it was know as a brothel. I had 15 girls working for me, mostly English and a few Scots and Irish, and one Japanese woman. She had been brought back by an English sailor who promised to marry her, but when his family found out they forbade it. Being a "momma's boy", he gave her up and left her to fend for herself. Being the humanitarian that I am, I offered her a job. What can I say? I would have just fed off her and left her to rot, but I just can't bring myself to drink from women. Call it a quirk of mine. Women just don't have the strong flavor that men do.
One night, she came running down the stairs screaming at the top of her lungs about a "demon" in her room. I went up to investigate and found a man of about my age in appearance sprawled out on the bed with a cigar in one hand, a glass of brandy in the other, and not a stitch of clothing on. He smiled at me as I came into the room with a warmth that temporarily made me forget that I'd come up there to throw him out on his ass. "Good evening, monsieur" he purred in a glorious French accent. I noticed that on a chair beside the bed was the laid out uniform of a French officer, and I also noticed with admiration that there were several medals attached to the jacket. "Good evening, sir" I responded. "I think we have some sort of problem, non?" He grinned devilishly at me for a moment, then rose off the bed putting his brandy glass down on the nightstand. "Your girl just got the wrong idea, that's all. See, all I wanted was for her to bite on me a little. It's a little strange, but not illegal last time I checked."
Again I was taken in by his natural charm. Usually French men are so slimy that I think them a waste of time, except that I love the language so much. This man, however, was a completely different story. He was probably 40, with broad shoulders and barrel chest, salt and pepper hair and thick moustache, strong arms, hands, and legs. He was handsome as the devil himself, and on top of all that he had a lovely johnson (that's a dick for all you non-English persons). So I was a little surprised and more than a bit intrigued to hear his response to my next question. I asked him "Where exactly did you want her to bite you, monsieur?" He looked a bit hesitant to answer, but after a moment said "On the penis, for one. The neck, thighs, maybe the buttocks some. I didn't think it would be a problem. I've had Japanese women do it before. That's where I actually had it done to me the first time, and I'm quite the addict now. I hope you are not offended."
"Offended?" I answered, "Quite the opposite actually." I turned around and closed the door of the room softly, then turned back to the man and spoke again. "What would you say if I told you that I was an expert at biting? I could bite you until you beg for mercy." I said this with all seriousness, with a bit of seduction and a bit of threat in my voice. He could interpret it either way, but I hoped he'd get my intended message of lust. He appeared to waver for an instant, but then smiled again and walked over to me. "Valier's the name. So pleased to meet you." he said in his charming accent. "The pleasure is all mine, I assure you. I am called Gabriel, and I am the proprietor of this establishment. Now I'm sure we could come to some kind of arrangement to satisfy your needs..." Before I could get out my whole sentence, Valier leaned over and grabbed me, pulling me to him for a passionate kiss. I hesitated but an instant, then returned his passion two-fold. He was slightly bigger than men, and should normally be stronger. Of course, I was the stronger of the two by leaps and bounds, but I wanted him to think he was in control of the situation.
He pulled me over to the bed and continued kissing me all over while pulling off my cumbersome clothing. Soon we were both nude and exploring eachother's bodies. He took an especially long time with my penis, which is very nice at 7" hard (yes, vampires can still get hard... and males at least can still have sex normally, they just don't cum like normal men). Meanwhile, I was feeling his hard body all over and also caressing his wonderful cock. It too was about 7" hard, perhaps slightly larger around than mine. He breathed heavily in my ear "This is so nice. I had forgotten how much I like the taste and smell of a man." He moaned heavily when I made a small bite on his nipple with my front teeth (not the canines) and told me, "Please, bite me harder! I want you to bite me all over, please."
I wanted this to last, though, so I continued making small bites and licks all over his chest, stomach, thighs, arms, and neck. I had him panting and grasping at the sheets in ecstacy, and finally I decided to lay it on the line. I extended my fangs completely and went for his inner thigh. As soon as I pierced the skin he practically spasmed on the bed, but was soon lying back and enjoying the warm drain of blood. His fluids were hot and salty, much like sperm except not as thick. I only took a few mouthfuls, though, because this was going to take a while in order to satisfy both of us fully. I licked the wound clean and then moved up to his chest. There I made several small bites around his nipples and armpits. Again, licking all of them closed again (a special gift we vampires have is the ability to heal any wound we inflict with our teeth. It's something in our supernatural saliva, I guess. No scientific tests have been successfully performed, yet). Finally, I moved down to the piece-de-resistance, his wonderful masculine crotch. It smelled of sweat, lust, and even a little hint of wine. I wondered what he had been doing with wine down there, but the scent was too intoxicating to take the time to ask questions.
I moved in for the final bite, on his hard cock. The taste was even better than the smell, as any blood is always better than the other bodily fluids. Still, there was something special about Valier. I considered myself to be something of a conniseur in the department of blood, but I'd never tasted anything so wonderfully rich and intoxicating. Perhaps it was the brandy he'd been drinking, but whatever it was I simply was in ecstacy drinking from this lovely man. He was writhing and moaning the whole time, and now with my lips wrapped around his phallus and my teeth drinking in his precious fluids, he was in utter bliss. Most people find some arousal in the "embrace", but Valier was genuinely getting off on it, as the saying goes. I was surprised to say the least when he grabbed the back of my head and, with one loud moan, shot his seed into my throat. The blending of blood and semen was overwhelming, and I nearly passed out from the sheer thrill of it. I let go of his cock and licked it clean, then looked up at him to see how he was. He had passed out, either from the loss of blood or the extreme orgasm. I checked his vitals, although I'd taken very little blood from him. His pulse was slightly slow, but in all other respects he seemed fine. I got up and dressed, then went down to the kitchen to have the cook prepare a meal for him to give him nourishment.
A few days passed, during which Valier entrusted his health to my care. He had amazing recuperative powers, and was ready to take on the world again before long. He thanked me profusely for what he termed "the greatest night in my life!" He had to go home to see his family, since he had only just gotten back from the war. He assured me that his family did not include a wife or children, only sisters and parents. He also assured me that he would be back to England as soon as he could, and he would come ready for another night with me. "Why wait until then?" I asked. "I hate this place, and I haven't been on the continent in years. Why don't I come with you?" He gave me another of his warm smiles, and on the spot assented with happiness. We left the next day, the brothel entrusted to one of my girls. We went to the continent by boat, then spent several glorious days in a private cabin on the train to the south of France. Valier was one of the few mortals who I've ever known who absolutely thrived on having his blood taken. He declined my offer to make him immortal, however. I shall miss him dearly.
Fini