A/N: Drafted in ten minutes, written and finished in thirty. I think that's pretty good all things considered. I like this part so much more than Thralldom, even though this has no sex it in it whatsoever. This series was intended to be only three parts, but as it stands, it'll probably be four or five parts long.
Jerry held Charlie through the entirety of his transformation. For hours, the pain ebbed and flowed. He felt on the verge of tearing from his skin. Like his body was on fire. Charlie writhed about fiercely, howling obscenities at Jerry as he claws at the fang marks in his neck. Charlie felt so weak—and, yet he felt something building within him… something dark and powerful.
And when it finally stopped, when the pain finally went, Charlie's sprawled across Jerry's legs gasping and wheezing like he had just broken a thousand year old spell of suffocation. The air felt heavy in his lungs; thick with the taste of sweat and blood, Jerry, and his own fear, this and that—it clogged his senses, dulling the burning throb in his neck. Charlie scrunched his nose, rolling onto his side to clutch a hand over his face.
As he turned, Charlie realized that the world around him was infinitely more different than that of which he is accustomed to—it was sharper; frighteningly so. It was brighter and louder. The shadows danced in Charlie's peripheral with the suggestion of mystery. He turned his head gently to chase the shadows, hoping to unveil its secrets, when his ears caught the silent crackling of the fireplace…
And suddenly, as though a lid had been abruptly pried off an air-tight container, Charlie was met with the cacophonous clash of everything around him sounding all at once: the dogs barking in the next yards over, the slamming of car doors down the street, the chirping of cicadas singing their night song all across the neighborhood.
Charlie's head rang at the collective tolling of noise. His hands moved from his face to his hair to clutch at his head in agony, when he felt Jerry's hand grasp his chin. Charlie barely had time to react before Jerry had tilted his head back to meet his eyes. Something passed between them as Charlie met Jerry's gaze. Something different that Charlie couldn't quite pinpoint. The ringing stopped. The auditory overload seeming to have ceased altogether; leaving in its wake only a gentle buzz that tickled between Charlie's ears. The noise around him didn't stop—no, Charlie could still hear the purring of engines and the jangling of pipes in the neighbors' house the way over—it just sounded distant now, like whispers barely catching the ear.
Jerry's hands moved to press against his cheeks and the gesture is tender, like how a parent would caress an infant. There's an infuriating look of pride in Jerry's eyes, barely perceptible when juxtaposed against all the unbridled lust Charlie saw there.
The teen flinched as Jerry's nails bit into his skin. Just hours earlier, these same nails would have broken his skin—now they merely stung; there was no more blood in Charlie's body for Jerry's inhuman grasp to leave marks. The thought was chilling; more so, was the way Jerry craned his neck to stare ever deeper into Charlie's eyes.
Without the master vampire's glamour, without Jerry's lust forced upon him, Charlie felt disgusted to have Jerry's hands on him—to have had Jerry's hands and mouth on him earlier, touching him in ways he hadn't been touched before by anyone else. But, even so; even as much as Charlie wanted to spit in the vampire's face—to recoil against his touch and rebuff any of further advances—he still felt this lingering sense of… affection—he'd realized with alarm—deeply entrenched within him. A fleeting feeling of elation and comfort that made Charlie's limbs feel leaden—if only for the moment—as he let Jerry lean in closer.
He could see all the imperfections in Jerry's face. All the lines that spanned across his forehead, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, the freckles gently speckled across his cheeks and almost invisible against his deeply tanned skin. It was so weird that something so evil could be so beautiful, Charlie thought fleetingly; thoroughly surprised by his own observation and the implication therein.
Had Jerry been human, would Charlie be so adverse to the way Jerry held him as he did now?
There was a part of him that was quick to say its two cents; it denied any and all feelings for Jerry. I'm not gay. I like girls; I have a girlfriend. For the most part, its argument was sound—or at least, its conviction to the argument was unwavering. And even despite the resonating bond that now laid between Charlie and his maker—even as irrefutable as the feeling of fondness towards Jerry was—that part of Charlie's mind was adamantly against being touched or even looked at by the vampire. It felt used and dirty for having let Jerry touch him in the first place; for not putting up a better fight. It wished that Charlie had never dropped the stake; wished that Charlie had never known of Jerry's existence in the first place.
Jerry growled; the sound interrupted Charlie's thoughts. Like the switch being thrown in a monster movie, all at once, Charlie felt the severed connection between his mind and body finally reconnect and there is no more time for thought because Charlie is himself again. Not even the disarrayed feelings that burdened him—the adoration that would now be the subjects of his late-night muses for the rest of his immortal days—could subdue the feelings of pure rage that made raise his hands to his maker's shoulders and shove as hard as he could.
Charlie didn't know his own strength. Somehow he had dislodged Jerry's hands. It shocked Charlie that he's able to break from the master vampire's hold for once.
Charlie jolted upright. Like a frightened animal, he had fled from Jerry's lap. It astounds him how little energy it takes to get himself moving. Unfortunately, Charlie doesn't make it to the door because whilst he was fast, Jerry was considerably faster—and significantly more determined to catch Charlie than the teen was to get away.
Jerry's shoulder collided with Charlie nearly out of nowhere. The teen flew half-way across the room before he could even comprehend that he was no longer moving towards the door. Shockingly enough, the sound his body made upon impact with the wall was not entirely dissimilar to that of an explosion.
Charlie head was ringing once again. He wilted to the floor with drywall and paint covering half of his body and clinging to his hair. The wall behind him was damaged; the point of impact caved in, the area around it was crumbling and thus widening the hole.
Jerry stood over him and fixed him with a hard, punishing look that made guiltiness blossom in Charlie's chest. Charlie was quick to squash the feeling as he slowly got to his feet. Defiance radiated from him and Charlie felt punch-drunk with as his newfound strength thrummed underneath his skin like the steady current of the ocean. Charlie clenched his hand into a fist and didn't give himself a chance to think whether or not trying to punch Jerry was a bad idea, for he had already swung before the thought even came to mind.
The master vampire caught his fist mid-flight and twisted Charlie's arm hard. "That wasn't a good idea, Charlie." Jerry said menacingly and Charlie could tell by the dark undertone of Jerry's voice that the master vampire was barely restraining his temper. It was so strange, but Charlie could sense Jerry's anger now; he could feel it. Briefly, Charlie felt the urge to apologize, but it left as quickly as it had come as Jerry had maneuvered them around and kicked Charlie hard in the back, sending the teen sprawling to the floor.
"You can kick, scream, and throw all the tantrums you want. It doesn't matter what you do; you are mine now." Jerry said as he reached down and seized Charlie by his hair.
Charlie struggled as Jerry pulled him roughly to his feet. For all his effort, Jerry forced him up against another wall. "I've given you something great, Charlie; something most people will spend all their lives chasing after—I've given you immortality. A new life," Charlie tried to twist out of his grasp then. Swift as ever, Jerry snatched the teen forward and slammed him back against the wall roughly. "Don't make me kill you, Kid, that would be an awful waste."
Charlie bore his teeth then; they are sharp pinpricks in comparison to Jerry's extracted fangs, but that hardly mattered to Charlie. He felt himself boiling with indignation and guilt; loathing and love—emotions so strong and so horribly contrasting that Charlie felt like he was going to tear in half. The teen's own eyes flashed red as he kept his eyes leveled with Jerry's.
The master vampire recognized the challenge. He pushed his forehead against Charlie's, kept their eyes locked as he raised a hand to Charlie's neck.
The teen tensed. Before he could bat Jerry's hands away, the master vampire pinned both of his wrists above his head. "I could end you, Charlie, right here and right now." His unencumbered hand wrapped around Charlie's neck. "I own you. Can't you understand that? I can do anything I want to you."
Charlie snapped in a voice that is too harsh to be his own, "Let me go!"
"Why should I?" Jerry retorted quickly, his own voice dropping several octaves. "I ought to punish you. Your mother might think your rebellious teenaged nature is cute, but I sure as hell don't."
"Don't you dare talk about her—!"
Jerry jammed his finger into Charlie's windpipe, interrupting him. "I'll talk about whomever I please, Charlie." Abruptly, he pulled them both away from the wall and it was truly a sight to behold, Jerry hoisting Charlie around the room with just one hand on the teen's neck.
A moment later, Charlie crashed through the wall beside the fireplace. Jerry unfastened his belt, "you've got to learn your place, Charlie." He called into the next room.
As he watched Charlie rise shakily from the rubble, Jerry smirked. "I'm going to break your spirit, Kid, and I'm going to enjoy every moment of it."