Zillah licked at his lips, they tasted of blood and sweat, the sickly sweet flavour of strawberry liqueur and candy hearts. He grinned and shuddered, looking down at the girl who was now a corpse in the street. Her neck was showered with Marti Gras beads and she was dressed in black and pink, a skirt with ruffles that had been just a little too short. She'd caught his eye with her flashes of creamy white skin and heavily made up blue eyes. Now she was dead and she was boring and he wouldn't linger here with her anymore. Zillah had someone else to see, someone who called to him, blood of his blood. And it had been too long, far too long. He'd let his seed go out into the world alone, watched from afar, kept always one bright green eye fixed to him but now he would call him back.
50 years had changed him little. His hair was still long, caramel in colour with sections dyed gold and green and purple. It was hanging free tonight, rather than tied back with a scarf as he wore it so often, framing those green eyes and a face that was a perfect mask of beauty. He was dressed in tight black pants, a purple tank top and many bangles on one wrist, colours the same as the streaks in his hair. His neck was now adorned with Marti Gras beads that were flecked and stained with the blood of the girl he'd fed from. New Orleans felt so much like home. Every time he came back here he felt that. Their kind belonged here, in the warm nights and free sexuality of New Orleans.
He walked slowly through the people that were still partying in the street, feeling a few hands reaching out for him, kids out of their minds on some drug or another, trying to hold him close. Zillah brushed them aside and kept walking, with purpose because he could smell Nothing now, feel him, almost hear the sound of his blood pumping in his ears. Tonight he'd take him back because Nothing was his; his lover, his child, his blood, his everything. Blood of his blood, Zillah had made him and he belonged to him forever. That he'd left Zillah a dried out husk in their rooms 50 years ago, thinking him dead and leaving to make his own way with Twig and Molochai, did not matter. Besides there was time to punish him for that if he chose to, all the time in the world.
The bar was busy when he walked in. The whole place was packed, people on the dance floor pressed close together. It smelled of sweat, perfume, smoke and sex. Zillah liked it instantly, it was the place he'd find Nothing, he knew that even before those brilliant, jewel green eyes were looking up towards the stage. His child up there on the stage, gripping the microphone stand, the voice that filled the bar and had everyone on their feet, swaying and dancing, they clapped and cheered and sung along. Twig and Molochai were still the same graceless creatures they'd always been, stroking each other's hair, dancing and singing along with Nothing whenever they remembered they were supposed to be. They were beautiful still but it was Nothing who shined, the one that the audience was reaching out to.
Zillah smiled, walked over to the bar and ordered a glass of Chartreuse. He drank it straight down, lapped at the rim of the glass and then asked the bartender quietly to bring him the bottle. He took a swig from it, turned around on his chair to watch Nothing. Watching his features become slightly uneasy as he sung, sensing something, sensing Zillah but not having the presence of mind to place the feeling and so he shrugged it away and sung on. When they were finished it was to thunderous applause but Zillah stayed unmoved, drinking from his bottle of Chartreuse until Nothing, Twig and Molochai had made it off the stage and back into the audience, swarmed by many admirers.
It was then that Zillah slipped quietly towards the stage, his bottle in hand, stripping off his shirt and tying it around his wrist. His bare chest was sporting two pierced nipples. When he whispered into the ear of the security that he was to sing tonight, nobody questioned it. They watched him with wonder, watched him get up and make his way across the stage and over to the microphone. Zillah gripped the stand, watched as people went quiet, looked at him with confusion and then with silent awe as he began to sing. Leaning in to the mic stand, stroking his hands over it, his tone was deep and dark, it rumbled with sexuality.
Hell-flavored, I've got mood poisoning
You must be something that I hate
I'm just a prison of property
Buckets full of better misery
There's not a word for what I want to do to you
There's not a word for what I want to do to you
You and me and the devil makes 3
You and me
You and me and the devil makes 3
When his eyes found Nothing's, watching him, they stayed there.
Nothing swallowed tightly, he was all wide eyed, trembling and Zillah relished that, fed off of it as he did the fear and uncertainty that came from the child in waves up towards him, making him moan and trail a hand over a pierced nipple, sighing in pleasure right there on the stage. Zillah had expected Nothing to be afraid, after all had he not left his creator, his lover and his everything, to lie in shrieking agony as his dried out shell of a vessel fleshed itself out? Each cell forming was pain exquisite, his flesh knitting itself together, shuddering with great waves of the pain as he was made whole again. Suffering the tender baby would have to answer for, and oh how Zillah intended to make him answer for it.
Twig and Molochai were beaming, squealing some unidentifiable words of glee, beckoning him down from the stage in a sensuous display of tongues darting about each other's mouths and then losing patience. The two jumped on him like a pair of excitable puppies, dragging him from the stage, pulling the bottle of Chartreuse from his hands and placing it on the floor, clawing at the waistband of his pants. Zillah sighed, his expression dazed, a half-smirk on his lips as he felt Twig succeed in pushing a hand between the material and his skin. Twig took his cock in the one hand, manipulating it in his grasp with such practiced skill that the ripples of pleasure overwhelmed the jewel eyed vampire and he fell breathlessly into the waiting arms of Molochai, who stroked the exposed flesh of his chest, grazed teeth filed sharp against his neck and pinched the jewelled rings that adored his nipples in turn between two deft fingers.
All this amongst the sweat coated bodies of the club kids, who did not pay it any special attention, unfazed by Zillah's unrestrained cries of pleasure, by the dark haired twins that played with his body so sensuously. Heavy handed yes but it was sensuous none the less. Zillah stood shorter than them, slighter but when his command came softly and simply "enough", the laughing creatures were instantly obedient, drawing away and watching him intently, as if waiting for him to allow them to slobber over him again. Zillah paid them no more attention, he was looking for Nothing, who had not seen fit to offer him the same kind of warm reception his band mates had.
"I'm here" came a tiny voice besides him, a hot little hand sliding into his own and holding to it with a sad desperation that felt to Zillah as Twig's heavy handed attention had. He liked it, to hear Nothing speak this way and he whirled quickly, taking his mess of black hair and lifting it from the pale neck of the trembling baby boy. 50 years were nothing to Zillah, the time past in a blur like weeks or days and they did not convince him that Nothing was anything but a child, he'd been playing boss but now it was time to learn his place again. "You're here yes and now we are leaving. We're having a family outing, a little trip down memory lane" he whispered in the little seashell ear, sliding his lips over the earlobe, his tongue molten hot as it touched the sensitive flesh, Nothing shivered and swooned closer to Zillah, who took his pleasure in suckling at the perfect ear before giving the signal that they were all leaving.
Twig and Molochai had been taking a few bottles of Chartreuse off the bartender's hands, when they saw Zillah's nod towards the exit and they were cradling them lovingly as they scrambled to follow their leader out of the club. Zillah walked ahead of them, Nothing held firmly at his side with one arm around his shoulders. Nothing looked very pale; he could feel the slim frame tremble under his grasp. "Where are we going?" he asked, trying to appear as nonchalant as he could, trying to keep his voice from shaking and his body relaxed into that of the possessive creature who held him. His large dark eyes were darting about them because it all looked wrong, the smell of death and decaying memories clung to the streets they walked.
"We're going home" Zillah said quietly, toying with the beads around his neck, the ones Nothing had noticed were stained with blood, he could smell it. All this was so surreal to him and he was terrified, walking in some terrible incapacitating state of shock, his insides were cold and twisted up in knots. He had little doubt that Zillah was walking him to his death, that he'd get Nothing shut up in a dirty little room somewhere and fall upon him, needle sharp teeth would sink deep into the artery just above his groin, in an intimate death caress and then he'd drain him until he was dry. Twig and Molochai would help of course, like two yipping hyenas waiting to pounce on the kill of the regal lion, Zillah would invite them in, nestling them close as they drained the life out of him.
How could he have known that his father lived? They'd taken care of his body in the way of their people, they'd lovingly licked the corpse dry, eaten the organs. Nothing had overseen this; his own tongue had lovingly slipped itself into every crevice. To see Zillah here now, whole and undamaged, when he'd seen those acid green eyes dead inside his head, plucked them out and eaten them like cherries, was unreal. He swelled with love, desperate and hot and consuming. He loved his father, as cold and frightening as he was; to see him alive was almost worth any punishment he'd get for doing wrong, for failing to understand that Zillah was not so easily ended.
"Open your mouth" Zillah had stopped, lifting and lithely manoeuvring Nothing, trapping him between the door of a boarded up shop and his own unyielding body. On his finger was a delicate little silver of Crucifix, those Chartreuse green eyes were flickering with a dangerous light, it could have been lust or it could have been hate, malice. Nothing's eyes widened, he shook his head softly. No, no, no, he couldn't stand to be lost to the LSD, he always tripped so hard on it. It frightened him, this stuff was so strong, he'd be defenceless and Zillah knew it.
"I don't want to, please, I really don't want any tonight" he stammered but faltered as a slender finger, nail sharp and black lacquered stroked across his lips, slid inside his mouth and across the gums, feeling out those needle sharp teeth, nudging Nothing's mouth open as if he meant to push him to his knees and fuck it. Nothing whimpered, music to Zillah's ears, he went limp and had to be held in place against the door. The slab of acid was slipped onto his tongue without anymore complaint but Zillah was watching him as he might a son he'd loving administered cough medicine to, making sure the child didn't spit it out.
"That's better now, isn't it baby? Much better, I like those lovely eyes to look so bewildered at me" he purred, stroking a hot round cheek with the back of his hand, then pulled Nothing out of the doorway and back into the street. Twig and Molochai were smirking at the stumbling and dazed Nothing, laughing as he fought the vertigo and clutched at Zillah's side, trying to steady himself as he tripped over his feet with every step. The streets frightened him even more now, every shadow a monster that reached for him, and he was sweating, sick, his mind raced and his heart pounded in his ears. When they'd turned off the street and towards a building, when Zillah had kicked in the back door and led them inside of Christian's bar, Nothing was panting and had taken to whimpering intermediately.
"Out" Zillah said quietly to Twig and Molochai as they followed up to the private room above the bar and the tone left no room for protest. The two pouted but removed themselves to the dusty but unchanged abandon bar owned by Chrissy so many years ago. They would sleep down there tonight, stay out of Zillah's way and leave him to be with Nothing up here in the room that had been his death chamber. He lay Nothing on the mattress stained brown with dried blood of decades ago, rusted springs poked through the fabric, the sheet was caked in dust and stomach juices from the night they'd spent vomiting over it.
"mmhhrrm" the boy on the bed murmured an unintelligible sound of his discomfort, writhing so ungracefully on the mattress, his eyes were wide and conscious, dark windows to his fear and confusion. "Shush" Zillah reprimanded and he was on top of Nothing in a instant, a lazy blink of his eyes and his father was straddling him, working one hand up under his shirt and pushing it up and off. Zillah flicked his tongue over the tender baby flesh of his belly, sucked it between his teeth, the sharp points of his filed teeth pricking at the flesh, bringing the tiniest drops of blood to the surface and licking them away. Nothing shivered beneath him at the action, his blood tasted of family, sweet and rich and familiar. It tasted as Zillah's own blood tasted to him and he relished that.
"Are you going to kill me?" Nothing asked as he sucked in a deep breath, though he was lost to the drugs that worked through his blood, he was present, afraid, trembling still though Zillah had released his hot flesh from his hungry mouth. "No, I'm not going to kill you" Zillah replied languidly, his attention returned to kissing Nothing's belly, lips pressing hot to every inch, long caramel hair lose and tickling his stomach. Nothing reached out to stroke his hair, touching it as if the feel of it slipping through his fingers was spellbinding; those dark eyes were fixed on him, his lips moist and slightly parted.
"I'm sorry" he whispered and when Zillah's brilliant green eyes fixed on Nothing again, he was crying, each blink of his dark eyes spilt a hot salty tear down his cheeks. "I know" Zillah said with a faint hint of amusement and then his tongue was lapping at Nothing's tears, his body pushing against the body beneath him, grinding forcefully, making the dark haired child gasp, overwhelmed. The drugs in his system made it impossible for him to move much. He was anchored to the dirty mattress by sheer unwillingness to move, seeing colours with each touch from Zillah.
"Show me" the words held the slightest edge of menace and his hand was in Nothing's mop of black hair. Somewhere along the line Zillah had shed his trousers and the remains of Nothing's clothing, he'd positioned himself on his knees and was dragging Nothing's head up by the roots of his hair. His cock was pressing at Nothing's lips and he didn't need any more instruction to open his mouth, lips carefully covering those sharp teeth, it would not be wise to have them hurt Zillah, not unless he was told to. His body was heavy and unresponsive, the stench of this stale room was making his head spin but it didn't matter because Zillah held his head up by that fist full of hair, yanking it so hard he wanted to yelp in pain but couldn't because his father's cock was shoved so far down his throat he gagged violently, limbs shivering and limp. There was no mercy for him; tears were stinging his eyes at the forceful thrusts into his soft warm mouth, looking up at Zillah bent over him, eyes closed and beautiful in his pleasure.
Nothing could no longer gag, his reflex gave up as Zillah fucked his throat so hard he was sure he'd be incapable of speech afterwards, it burned, raw and protesting this harsh treatment, he swallowed his own saliva in gulps, least he really choke on it and die. He didn't even know if that were possible for their kind, to die of suffocation, what would that be like? He wondered, his tripping mind lost itself in the thought for a long moment but when his eyes flickered open again he still felt the deep burning pressure of Zillah's cock down his throat, the ring that pierced it scraping the delicate tissue there.
When he pulled out, Nothing gasped, choking in gulps of air that he had no way of knowing if he actually required. He tasted blood; his throat was torn up, coated in the salty taste of Zillah's flesh. He swallowed repeatedly; fell limp on his back on the filthy mattress as his hair was finally released. "I love you" and it seemed he could still speak, though the words were strained, his tongue felt thick and uncooperative, his throat hurt so much. "I know" came Zillah's reply, he was laughing, deep and rich and sensuous. His powerful hands stroked at Nothing's flesh in such a demanding and thorough way, too rough, too without care, he knew that it could only be Zillah. Nobody else had ever touched him that way, like he was loved, adored but also an object he possessed to be used as he wanted.
Zillah wasn't done, there was still so much this body had to give him and he would take it. He wanted to reclaim every inch of Nothing as his own, his lips and his hands were everywhere at once. Nothing moaned and sighed, at times tried to muster some will to push Zillah away. Teeth at his nipples bit him too hard, fingers penetrated him without warning, stroking and invading and making him crazy. Zillah watched his every drugged reaction with those green eyes burning.
"Daddy, daddy, daddy" Nothing was sobbing out the word over and over again. Zillah shivered at the word, how he loved it, he wanted Nothing to shout it, to scream it in ecstasy. His nails dug into Nothing's hips as he grasped them and dragged him closer. The child continued his little prayer, Daddy, as Zillah's cock was sliding into him, slicked only with salvia. He couldn't move, he was seeing stars, seeing shining green stars, no not really, he blinked and saw only Zillah's eyes. He felt painfully stretched, impaled; every thrust of Zillah's cock was so deliciously painful. His immortal lover had never seemed to fit inside him well, always seemed forced into him, designed in his size and shape to make Nothing suffer for the pleasure of this contact.
Soon he was a mess of tangled pleasure, whimpering and moaning for Zillah's satisfaction, rewarded with a hand with long sharp nails that scraped at his arousal as it stroked him. Nothing came violently, screaming, sobbing, all the reactions he knew that Zillah longed to see. Then he lay there half conscious from the lingering ripples of pleasure as Zillah fucked him still, working to a slower and more controlled peak of his own. Nothing felt teeth tearing at his neck and the flesh opening up, spilling blood down his neck and into Zillah's mouth. He whimpered as Zillah pushed right up to the hilt of him, he was striking hard and deep, it hurt him and he tried to protest it but there were no words that came. Zillah's hand tore at Nothing's hair as he came, ripping a chunk of if out by the roots, shuddering and moaning in ecstasy. Nothing choked out a scream but it fell flat, robbed from him by the desperate thrusts of Zillah's cock that stole his breath.
He kissed Nothing hotly, licking at his lips, left traces of blood there. Then he withdrew and lapped the semen that had pooled on Nothing's stomach, pushed his head between Nothing's legs and licked up his own cum, as it leaked down his pale white thighs. When he emerged again he looked completely contented.
He crawled up beside Nothing and pulled him into his arms, cradling him to his chest, with one hand stroking at his hair. "I love you, my sweet baby" he purred into Nothing's ear. "And I love fucking you until you can't use those legs of yours. I love wrecking your precious baby throat with my cock" Nothing moaned at the words. It wasn't so unusual for Zillah to say something like that and as he cradled Nothing close, his tender words of affection became more and more obscene.
Zillah fastened his mouth around the bleeding wound at Nothing's neck and sucked at it, lulling himself into sleep, his lips still pressed to the spot long after the blood stopped flowing. Nothing fell into a sleep so deep it was almost unconsciousness, fearing to wake to the pain he was going to experience the next day. His sleeping mind was repeating to him over and over that something was wrong here, something was very wrong. He thought that he dreamed Zillah was inside of him again as he slept, he didn't.