A/ N- This is an idea I have had for quite some time. I was encouraged by the lovely Yankeecountess and now that I have taken a break from One Step at a Time, I thought it was the perfect time to explore this. This will be a Vampire!Tom story. It won't be….gruesome per say…but it is about vampires soooo it's around the fringes. This story is M. please be aware of what that means. There will be sexytimes and whatnot…I mean…it's me writing it lol. We need a little exposition first, plot is important! So if you are patient I promise it will be worth it.
Now as far as mythology-there is a ton of different legends and ideas and mythologies when it comes to vampire lore. For the sake of least confusion I am going to basically adopt The Vampire Diaries mythology. If you are unfamiliar, I will be dropping hints along the way as to what that means so don't be too stressed if you don't know. If you do then have fun since you know what's up! There's a couple of different ways I want to go with this and I haven't quite decided yet….but the journey will be exciting for sure! I look forward to your feedback, what works? What doesn't? What do you want more of? Let me know! I'm not good about replying on here, but I will take this space usually before every chapter addressing the things I am able to.
Disclaimer-basically its Downton Abbey meets Vampire Diaries….neither of which are mine, too bad. Oh well….
Enjoy!
This couldn't be happening. This wasn't happening. It was impossible. Looking into the dusty mirror hung over the small washing sink Tom stared at his reflection. The rush of charged blood through his veins making them stick out purple and black against his cheeks and under his blood red eyes. Gasping at the grotesque picture he presented he noticed something else. Sharp pointed teeth extended out of his previously normal looking canines. Reaching a finger up to gently press against the point of one Tom realized they were razor sharp. What the fecking hell was going on?
The last thing he remembered was boarding the boat that was going to take him from his homeland to the land of titles and privilege. Keiran had secured him a position on a large estate as a driver. He had chauffeured back in Dublin for over two years and looked forward to the challenge and opportunity to serve a larger house. He rarely got to take the motor over ten miles an hour at his previous job and was curious and excited about life driving about an earl and his family. Surely, since they were placed so far from town and any bustling city life they would need motor transportation much more than his previous employer. Sure they were English, and he would be serving the aristocracy, and he would be away from his country, his family, everything familiar…but it was an opportunity he would never get back in Ireland. He could really make something of himself. This would be good for him.
Walking back to his cabin on the large boat that was ghosting through the waters Tom couldn't shake the feeling that someone was following him. Picking up speed Tom tried ducking into an empty hallway. A person much taller than Tom and grabbed him expertly from behind. It was a male body, he was sure of it. Male and strong. He had dragged Tom into his room, one hand pressed against his mouth to muffle any screams of protest. Once the door had been shut and locked, somehow seeming impossible given the man's vice grip hold on Tom, the man hand spoken. A smooth and deep English accent discernable. "You are a pretty one. I hardly ever get a pretty one." The man ran his nose along Tom's neck, sniffing and nuzzling.
Tom's hair stood on end, uncomfortable with the prospect of his being forced to do anything with this frightening man. He stiffened in response to the roaming hands and charged air. He had a friend back home who never quite got the hang of chatting up lasses with the rest of their gang. He realized why one night when his friend had spent the night on his couch after too much drinking. They were sitting next to each other talking about politics or something of the sort when Tom felt a hand creeping up the inside of his thigh. He had immediately hopped off of the couch, knocking over his Mam's second best case in his drunken stupor, everything falling into place as he realized just why his friend never seemed to be interested in women. They had spent the night talking, after Tom corrected young Jimmy about his preference and Jimmy talked about how hard it was to read the signs sometimes when you couldn't exactly announce your interest in someone of the same sex. Tom had felt sympathy for the younger man, realizing how hard it must be to live like that all the time.
Tom felt a niggling feeling in the back of his mind, connecting his previous experience to this moment but realized that they were distinctly different. That night Jimmy had been hesitant and shy. The pressure of his hand light, questioning. This man behind him was forceful and scary. His very presence was causing Tom to be averse to him on a primal level. Something in him was screaming danger and Tom wanted to listen. He wanted to flee, but even with all of his strength and effort concentrated on breaking free of the stranger's hold he wouldn't budge. His arms were unyielding and firm, caging him in a way he hadn't felt since he was younger, smaller than most of the other boys he had been an easy target most days, especially with his love of books and learning and ineptitude with physical games.
The hand held over his mouth was cold and as hard as the rest of him. A moment of inspiration had Tom pulling his lips back, exposing his teeth and biting down as hard as he could. His attacker's skin wasn't as indestructible feeling as the rest of him. The chilly flesh broke slightly where Tom pressed his teeth and a rush of surprisingly warm blood flooded Tom's mouth. Chocking back the metallic taste and sputtering for air the assailant removed his injured hand, frozen for a moment in shock at Tom's gall to bite him. He wouldn't be going willingly, whatever this man's plan for the evening. "Well, looks like I've got a fighter. Maybe I'll keep you after all. I have been so lonely these past few months. Maybe it's time I took a…partner." The man was inching his uninjured and down Tom's middle, to brush against the top of his trousers.
Thrashing about, trying unsuccessfully to get free Tom spat, able to remove some of the lingering blood from his mouth, wising desperately for a toothbrush and some water, or better yet some whiskey. "F-Fuck you, asshole!"
Tom felt the man jerk surprisingly at being addressed thusly. "Hmm…yes I think you'll do nicely." The eerie stillness and silence of the room reflected back to Tom mockingly for a moment before his world exploded in pain and repulsively, pleasure.
Looking back at his reflection, now more normal and less frightening as he worked to control his breathing, Tom could still recall the teeth at his neck, pressing in, violating in its intensity. His previously altered presence was replaced with his usual countenance. He could almost believe he was mistaken in seeing the monster he was sure was reflected back to him minutes before. He looked like his normal self. Perhaps he had been dreaming. Looking down Tom realized that was an optimistic prospect. Blood stained much of the floor surrounding him, his blood he realized. Smeared and almost black in its depth now drying across the walls and floor, bed and dresser, almost every surface was ruined.
A figure lay in his bed, relaxed and unmoving beneath his blankets. It couldn't be. Tom felt the emotion surge up in him, anger and rage. He realized he could feel the blood pumping through his veins, he could detect the slight change in his vision, sharper, pulsing. He felt his teeth silently extending in his mouth, uncomfortable and welcome at the same time. He wanted to kill, maim, punish. Anything to get this feeling out of his body. He wanted to hurt, feed and fuck. Where had that come from? Tom had never felt particularly violent, or amorous. He could feel himself harden as the blood continued surging through his tense body. Tom had never been with a woman, or man for that matter. He had been close a few times but never wanted to risk a babe with his prospects being less than ideal. A few stolen kisses and some quiet time with his hand had always been enough to keep himself held at bay. But the demanding screaming inside of his was urging him to sate this hunger. All of his hungers, he realized.
The wet smell of his blood clinging to the room was distinguishable from the other scents of old wood, the water outside, a school of fish swimming close by, a women applying perfume three rooms down, breakfast being prepared down the hallway. All of these realizations came close on the heels of the realization that Tom was not himself anymore. He was Other. Something different. And the man lying unaffected and serene in his bed was somehow responsible. The figure cracked an eye open. In the light of the morning Tom could now see the features that made this man the perfect predator. He looked perfectly normal. Unassuming. Dark hair, average build, taller than Tom, but he was on the short side anyways. A teasing lightness was lurking behind his hard eyes. Tom realized he was so relaxed because of all of the blood he had taken from Tom last night. The thought disgusted him, and at the same time enticed him, agitated him as well. If only he could find some blood as well…his mouth watered.
Rage and confusion at this person and his own body and mind made Tom yell out. "What the fecking hell did you do to me?" Tom thought he might be sick.
"I improved you. I made you in my image. I am God!" The man proclaimed, throwing his arms wide. Tom wouldn't have been surprised if a bolt of lightning struck the man down where he lay. A more ungodly person Tom couldn't imagine. Naked and draped with a sheet, blood smeared around his mouth and down his chest, staining the sheets around him, a devilish smile dancing across his sharp features. Tom crossed his arms, staring down at the blasphemer in disgust, waiting for a real answer. Somehow Tom wasn't afraid of him like he instinctually was last night. Something in him recognized this man as the same. They were the same.
"Listen kid, you should be thanking me."
"Thanking you?" Tom was getting angrier by the second. The arrogance of him!
"I was going to kill you last night but I changed my mind. Your welcome." The man stood up, the sheet falling to the floor and exposing creamy skin to the brightening light streaming in through the lone window. The man was completely bare save a chunky silver ring decorating the ring finger of his right hand. The sun glinted off of it, dancing its reflection around the room from the single shaft of light.
Looking down again Tom was relieved to find his trousers still firmly in place.
"You can rest easy fair maiden, I only took your life, not your virginity." The bastard spoke from the corner of the room, pulling on his own pants and shirt as if nothing about this situation was odd to him.
Sputtering and trying to catch up, his mind jumbled and focused and clear and muddy all at the same time. "How did you…"
Raising one dark eyebrow the man replied, "I have had your blood, I have had you inside of me. I can still feel you. Your wants, your desires, your secrets. You'll learn, you'll understand. This is the first day of the rest of your life boy-o. You'll thank me someday." He sounded so sure, so confident and Tom wanted to punch his face in.
"C'mon. We'll grab a quick bite and I'll tell you all about it." He approached Tom and placed a long chain necklace over his head. The end reached halfway to his navel and dangled a metallic charm Tom tried inspecting but couldn't place the origin. Not Catholic in design, maybe Celtic? Confused, Tom moved to disengage the surprisingly light adornment from his person, to find his new companion's hands stilling his movements.
"First lesson. Never take this off. And if somehow you fail at that, never go out in the sun without it. I would hate to lose you so soon." He looked genuinely pained at the prospect, almost fatherly and Tom felt a strange kinship with this man, at the same time as wanting to skewer him where he stood. His emotions and thoughts were all over the place and he had little control over their direction it seemed.
Tom was thrown a clean shirt while the other man wiped his face and neck, removing the evidence of last night's activities. Glancing back at the mirror Tom noticed he wore no marks on his neck, a streak of blood indicating there had been a wound at some point but the origin could not be determined by the healed and unmarred flesh. Sharp teeth, heightened senses, wicked thoughts, craving blood and destruction. He didn't have to be a genius to recognize the fictional signs straight out of Bram Stoker. He had read the infamous novel a few weeks ago ironically. Curious about all the fuss and decided it was a bit graphic for his tastes. He never finished it. He would have to retrieve his copy as soon as he got to….
"….Downton! I um….I have to be at Downton Abbey by next week. How will I…what will I….what if I…"he was starting to panic. Sleeping in coffins and avoiding people? Wasn't that what Stoker had detailed? But then how was he able to go out in the daylight….this necklace gave him protection? Tom couldn't recall any such thing in the text he had read.
"Calm down, princess! By next week you'll be a pro. And who knows? Maybe a jaunt in the country is just what I need. I've been in the city too long. It's boring and the people are boring and predictable. Maybe I'll find a nice lordly lad to play with for a while. Hmm…yes. I like it. So who are we then? Counts from across the pond? Wealthy business capitalists?"
"Um…I'm to be the chauffer." Tom replied lamely. The man looked crestfallen, not an exciting prospect to play at apparently being in service.
"Hmm…I could work with that. Perhaps a position for footman will conveniently open upon our arrival? I like to keep a low profile if I can. Blend in to the background if I can't be at the height of society, Ill skirt the underbelly. I didn't catch your name last night by the way, in all of the…excitement." His eyes crinkled in delight at the thought of devouring Tom's soul. Tom felt a bit numb at this point. His brain trying to absorb and process what was happening. The absurdity of it and yet the stark reality of it at the same time. Tom didn't feel anger anymore, or confusion. He almost positive what he was, and who this man was and what had happened to him. He felt a strange reliance on him, possibly due to as he had said, the blood connection. Either way Tom felt as adrift as the boat the resided on, his only direction being provided by the blinding light and energy of this man. His guide on this strange new journey that was depressingly about to become his life.
Resigned, Tom replied. "Tom, Tom Branson." He wasn't sure if a handshake was proper protocol here but he acted on habit, extending his hand formally.
Looking at him in delight and excitement the man stalked over to him. "It must be fate then, Tom, Tom Branson. Two Toms destined to spend eternity together! I'm Thomas, Thomas Barrow. Your new best friend and life partner. Now enough chatter, I'm starved and I smell bacon." Flashing a set of straight white teeth Thomas wrenched the door open, content to leave the gruesome massacre of the room behind him as he gestured Tom to follow, in search of the sizzling bacon Tom could unbelievably hear coming from the opposite side of the boat. His mouth was watering, which seemed odd as he wasn't sure if he could even eat real food…there was so much he needed to learn and his only source of information was swaggering down the hallway in search of breakfast. Hurrying along in his wake, Tom prayed to God that this was all just some strange nightmare he would wake from.
"No such luck!" Thomas called over his shoulder. Damn.
