"You've been sleeping in class," Nigel said. The breakfast table hushed the minute Wally took a seat. "Are you feeling okay? You never let the medics look at the bite or take a blood test. It's not easy playing the role as bait and the drugs were experimental."

Wally shoved the entire cereal bar into his mouth, which wasn't like him. He hated cereal bars. Everyone else ate sweetened cereal, but the jock specialized his diet for the season. The one thing he hadn't done was cut his hair, which he usually did right before football started. The shaggy blond curls brought his threat level down a notch. He was almost… what would Kuki say? Cute? Nigel tried to shake the thought, but it stuck to him like the lice that attacked their tree house back in elementary.

"I'm fine. I freaking hate doctors and the ones at the center aren't any better. I'm not letting a bunch of lab coats poke at me."

"Do you have light sensitivity? Are you feeling weak or disoriented? Have you experienced a lack of hunger or a change in your sleeping habits? Have you experienced any change in your mood?" Abigail paused at the last question. Nigel carefully studied their hitter.

Wally blushed and broke eye contact with the group for a mere second before his resolve strengthened and he shrugged like there wasn't a care in the world. "I would tell you guys if I didn't think I could handle things, but there isn't anything I can't handle. So it's fine."

"Everything doesn't always have to be fine," Kuki said. "That's why we have psychologists and psychiatrists and a slew of specialists and medicine—"

"Are you kidding? There's nothing wrong with me. I was built for the hard hits and I take them, but I always bounce back and this is me now bouncing right out of here." He left the kitchen a bundle of nerves carefully hidden under a hooded sweater when it wasn't cold enough to wear them yet.

Everyone waited in silence for the elevator to ding, signifying the retreat of their hitter. Hoagie sighed, dropping his spoon in his bowl. "He's so not fine. He's definitely hiding something."

"Do you think this sudden sullenness is tied to the drugs the lab injected in him?" Nigel asked. He sat back in his chair, no longer hungry. There was a knot in his stomach and a building pressure high in his chest. A heavy foreboding hit him.

"Or with the Count. It's not like vampire bites have been widely studied. The only research the libraries and media have on the subject are roughly outdated," Hoagie said.

"There is a rumor going around that Wally likes it rough and the only people rough at school are the jocks. The other students are talking about his faded hickey right here," Kuki pointed to the curve where shoulder meets neck. "I haven't seen the bite since it happened. I have no idea if it's even healing or if this is an old rumor that just won't die."

Nigel pressed his fingers at his temple, trying to starve off a growing headache. They were best friends. "Damn it! He should feel safe telling me what's going on."

What left his eyes so haunted? What made him occasionally glance over his shoulder when they were out late at night? His hitter was intense and moody more so than usual. He couldn't pretend he hadn't noticed the thin gold chain around Wally's neck. They shared a communal shower, setup like at the high school gym and he caught sight of the tiny gold cross connected to the chain. He even followed behind Wally one Sunday, curious to find that Wally suddenly found religion at a Catholic Church, one of the strictest ones in town.

Hoagie was the first to stand from the table. "Dude, he's scared."

"I doubt it. That's not like Wally at all," Kuki said.

"We need someone tailing our operative at all times," Nigel said. He knew everyone's schedule, knew who would have class with Wally, and the one class no one had with the hitter right before lunch. They would all eat together, including Lizzy who was keen on having them try her latest desserts; he suspected she liked feeding the team though she wasn't a part of it.

oOo

Kuki glanced over at Wally. His eye lashes fluttered as he tried to stay awake and failed. He rested his cheek on his fist, propping his head up, but still couldn't keep his eyes open. His head slowly slid to the desk, caught in the rook of his arm. Kuki caught Abby's eyes, who sat directly behind him and gave a curt nod.

"It's important to remember these facts. This will be on the pop quiz on Friday," Mr. Lawrence droned on as he wrote bullet points on the blackboard. He didn't glance back once.

Kuki glanced at Wally who sighed in his sleep. She gave thumbs up to Abby who immediately leaned over her desk to hook a slender, French manicured nail into the collar of the soft cotton sweatshirt Wally wore. She pulled down on it and waited for Wally to move. He didn't. Kuki leaned in and still couldn't see anything on his neck. That had to be a good sign, right? She shrugged at her fellow operative who sighed and signaled for her to look again. There was still nothing to see.

Numbuh Five pulled it down farther and Kuki leaned farther into the aisle to see. Short of standing and being right on top of him, she could barely see anything be it a white scar that marred his tanned skin. She shrugged and slid back into her chair a second before a hand caught Abby's wrist. Both girls screamed in surprise.

"What are you—" Mr. Lawrence started, but fell silent from the hand that gripped his wrist.

They all stared equally surprised at Wally's quick response though he'd been sound asleep a second ago. His blue-gray eyes blinked up at Mr. Lawrence, before he quickly let go of his wrist. He was clearly incoherent as he looked down at his desk then glanced at the front of the class and over to the large windows as if he expected to be somewhere else, or with someone else.

"Asleep again in class Mister Beatles," Mr. Lawrence let Abigail go and turned his full attention on Wally, who didn't look back up at him.

"Can I be excused?" Wally asked. Mr. Lawrence barely gave permission before Wally was out of his seat with his backpack slung over his shoulder.

"I have to pee," Kuki yelled, taking off after Wally. The minute she hit the hallway, he was gone; vanished. She took a breath and thought it through, spotting the boys restroom. She shoved her way in, smelling the sharp tang of piss from the urinals.

The faucet was running with clean water filling the porcelain basin. Water was splashed on the mirror and slowly dripped down to the sharp edge jutting off the wall mount. Only one stall door was closed and it was the largest stall towards the back. She expected it to be locked, but it easily pushed inward. She wasn't sure what to expect, maybe Wally on the toilet ready to scream at her, but Wally wasn't on the toilet. He was on the floor with his back flush against the wall and his arms wrapped around his legs. His head rested downward on his kneecaps as he visibly shook. He looked smaller than he should for a lineman.

"Wally?" She didn't want to startle him, but he didn't move at the sound of her voice. It was dangerous startling Numbuh Four. People got hurt around him and sometimes the mission completely blew up. It depended on exactly what mind frame the hot-headed blond was in. "Wally?"

She reached out to touch his leg when his hand shot out, catching her wrist and bending it at an angle that caused her to fall to the ground to keep the bone from giving. He stared at her with dilated pupils and dazed eyes. She wasn't sure he actually saw her.

"Wally, it's me, Kuki. You're safe," she said.

He immediately let her go. "Sorry. I'm… sorry… just tired." He shoved both hands in his hair, pushing the maltase-like curly strands away from his face. He looked nice with long hair and even better with it pulled tight away from his face. "Just really, really tired. I… I don't know. Sorry. I didn't mean to."

She placed the back of her hand on his forehead. He was flush. "Wally, what is going on? You're scaring us."

"Us?" he asked with a hint of annoyance. He used the wall to stand, forcing her to back up to give him room. He wasn't the shortest operative any more. She was. "I don't need babysitters. I watch out for my team, not the other way around. I can handle any issue that comes up."

"You're not handling this one. What are you looking for when you stare off into space like you heard a voice?" she asked. The tic between his brows said she wasn't entirely wrong on that accusation. "That's what I thought. You know something you aren't telling us. Are we all in danger?" There was no response. "Or only you?"

He threw his hands up in the air. "A few months without a mission and the entire team goes stir crazy."

"You're a little defensive don't you think?" She stood her ground.

His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. She was right and that hit a nerve with him. He was hiding information from them. Instead of responding, he rolled his eyes and left the boys bathroom. She pulled out her mobile phone and texted the others: Wally is definitely scared. It could have something to do with our last mission.

In less than a second, she got three responses back. It was good to share the burden when it came to a fellow comrade. She wasn't alone in her concern and together, they would be the rock Wally needed in order for him to heal.

oOo

Wally knew what he had to be done because disregarding the voice wasn't an option. It refused to be ignored and after months with it constantly whispering, it finally destroyed his strong will. It whispered names like; thrall, blessed swan, gorgeous baby and haunted virgin.

Every word spoken made him shiver. It made the muscle under the scar on his neck tighten and ebb for the wet sturdy pull of pressure at his throat. It was a sick desire, too dark to mention to anyone, including the priest. And that desire made him spend hours in the bathroom willing his shaft to deflate. His hands couldn't touch his body as thoroughly, couldn't dig as deep as that voice, heating everything in his organs as if he drank boiling hot chocolate straight out of the microwave.

Blood swan. He didn't like that name. It was too submissive; too passive for the Team Hitter, yet he craved to hear it when the wound on his neck connected directly to the rush of heat that came during his wet dreams. Jesus, was he having wet dreams again? It'd been years since that happened, like right when he hit puberty in elementary.

He followed the guard down the hallway, glancing up from beneath his lowered hoodie to stare at the latest version of security cameras that were circular now, allowing the camera to follow movement at 360 degrees. Heat rushed to his cheeks and he lowered his head again, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets.

"You're a little young to be here without parents," the guard said. Wally shrugged, but grew hotter around the collar as the guard stared hard at him. "You get thirty minutes and then I'll be back to get you."

That's enough time to tell the Count to fuck off. The guard pulled the door open and waited a second for Wally to change his mind. Wally held his breath and crossed into the heavily fortified room. The muscles in his legs and his back tightened. The guard drew the heavy door closed and locked the door from outside. This was a maximum security prison where the criminals were extraordinary and now he had to see this through because there was no phone to call the guard to let him out.

The room appeared empty, but the nerve endings under the scar on his neck pulled in response to a very particular person. Suddenly nervous, he licked his lips. This was utterly stupid, even for him. There were no two way mirrors and no cameras, there were no witnesses to make sure this visit didn't get out of hand.

"They save this room for congenial visits." The Count's voice was silky smooth and deep. His chuckle was shameless. "What kind of visit is this going to be Mister Beatles?"

Wally swallowed hard. He really shouldn't be here, because the vampire's voice made his stomach flutter just like in his dreams, which usually followed another highly evolved reaction. "It's the type of visit where I tell you to stay out of my head, old man."

The air took shape and within a millisecond, the Count stood in front of him. He took a step back when a mere two fingers on his shoulder stopped him in place; not because they were forceful in nature, but because it was domineering in the gesture. He grew hot beneath his jacket.

"I'm sure you took precautions to keep our shared little secret," the Count said. He stood tall, lean and pale with obsidian black eyes that reflected Wally's face like a mirror.

Wally glared. "I have a lot of secrets, buddy, and you aren't one of them, so back off. I don't want to hear the disgusting things you mutter."

"Your heart quickens and your pupils dilate when you lie, but your mouth is so pretty while you're doing it. What other pretty things can you do with that gorgeous mouth of yours?"

What the…? He wasn't expecting this, but now that it was mentioned out loud, his breath caught. He found himself staring at the Count's red lips and perfectly aligned, toothpaste commercial white, teeth.

"Do you know the telltale signs of a subservient being the moment attraction hits, Wally? Their nostrils flare, taking in the scent of their alpha male, their leader. Their body softens," he punctuated his words by rolling his finger tips down Wally's cheek to his chin. Everything inside him screamed when he leaned into the touch. This earned a smile from the vampire, in turn, giving him instant gratification. "Your instincts have already kicked in. Your body knows it wants what I can offer, even if your mind hasn't accepted this truth of the matter."

Wally hit his hand away. "This was a mistake. Clearly you're insane and I'm going to make sure you never get out of here."

"I can smell you Wallabee. I can smell the way your blood raises to the surface with fear and anticipation. You showered, but that didn't wash the betraying scent of what you did while you were at school and what you did again in the shower," he leaned in, whispering the last part against his ear. "I saw how you stripped down for me when you thought you were alone. I watched you bite your bottom lip, trying so hard not to scream out loud."

Wally jerked away from him and reached out to shove the Count away, but his hands went through nothing. The Count took shape, smirking at his confusion. He placed two cold fingers under Wally's chin and raised his chin an inch to stare into his obsidian eyes. Wally took a breath, and then another, finding each passing second getting easier. His mind was calming down.

"That's right, sweet blessed virgin," the Count said, touching a lock of Wally's hair. "You've heard my voice all summer and followed my instructions so well. I'm proud of you for behaving."

Wally swallowed, but couldn't break the flow of his thoughts, slowing… slowing… slowing…

"Take off your jacket and shirt so I can look at my mark on your skin," the Count said. Wally's breath caught and the Count tsked softly. "It's okay, breath in and out. There you go. Keep breathing."

Every breath he drew was intoxicating. The vampire smelled like incense and wood polish, wet earth and graveyard wreaths. His heart raced as each notch vibrated to the core of his bones as he rolled the zipper down and dropped his jacket to his feet. He pulled his shirt over his head and his skin prickled from the icy atmosphere, but the Count made approving sounds that quickly made him hot again.

The vampire chuckled, folding his arms. He wore his orange prison clothes well. His shoulders weren't nearly as narrow as he'd thought. The vampire didn't look so lithe and fragile. He suddenly felt vulnerable. Was the Count truly the more dominant one?

The Count chuckled. "The necklace is adorable Wallabee. Does it make you feel safe?"

Wally fingered the cross around his neck. "What did you do to me?"

"Wallabee," the Count reached out and gently tugged a curly strand of hair before tucking it behind his ear. "You've always wanted a master. I'm merely stepping up and taking ownership of you."

oOo

Wally was more entertaining awake than he was when asleep. The youth left his hair long, which feminized his masculine qualities. The blondish- white strands held the warm radiation given off by the sun. Every strand he wrapped his fingers around, transferred the memory of heat and light he could no longer personally take.

"I'm going to embed so deeply inside you that when you sit out in the sun, I'll feel it." He kept his voice low in the intimate space he invaded. He could feel Wally's mental defenses still up, even if he was currently under his persuasion.

He leaned in, pressing his nose to the crown of Wally's head and took a deep inhale of breath, sucking in the shattered pieces of the operatives day. The smell of Bermudagrass, not the usual ryegrass, was strong on his skin over his palms and up his forearms from his football practice. The lingering scent of peanut butter on his fingertips said what he ate and the smell of females around his neck said he'd been too close for the Count's pleasure to possibly other interests.

"It will only be me, Wally." He wrapped his arms around the young man, drawing one hand up into the young man's hairline and twisting his fingers into the strands, pulling them away from his tanned neck. The strain forced his veins and tendons to react.

He couldn't believe the young man came to him, all pretty boy golden with his love of the sun, baby shampoo products and puppy dog eyes. Wally was naïve or he'd never come so ill prepared. He didn't smell like garlic. There wasn't a trace of anything on his skin saying this was a setup.

He drew the fingers of his free hand up under Wally's chin, tracing the blue veins to the dip in his collarbone where the muscle was deeply defined. His same finger rolled down over the valley of his distinct pectoral muscles. He traced the areola of his left nipple, rolling his finger around and around the quarter size coloration. On instinct, Wally's hand came up to rest on the Count's bicep, but didn't push him away.

"You're being so good Mister Beatles; such a good, good little boy," he said. Wally made a choked sound that could've been his stress. His heart was racing under his diaphragm.

The Count used his two fingers to trap the nub of Wally's nipple and the young man started to squirm. This was too much for him. He wasn't comfortable with it, which made the Count smirk.

"We'll pump these little nubs and get them bigger and swollen so there is more to suck on," he teased.

Wally started squirming more. His other hand came up to the Count's wrist caught in the young man's hair. "There isn't going to be another time. Bite me and then let me go."

The comment startled the Count. "You came here wanting this?"

Wally's checks turned red. "Don't make this a bigger deal than it has to be. You need blood or you wouldn't be bugging me. Call this a truce."

The Count threw his head back and laughed. The sound rushed from him. He couldn't control it. "You think that you call the shots, kid? No. I'll tell you when it's over. The truth of the matter is, you like this or you wouldn't be here right now."

"I don't need a master. I'm not into that kinky stuff. I have a mission and I'm tying the loose ends now," he said.

"You believe I'm a lose end?" He smirked.

Wally didn't meet his eyes and when he talked. He probably wasn't aware he was doing it. The boy was rightfully scared and it made his skin smell so much more promising like walking on the fairgrounds and smelling salted popcorn and warm sugar being caught on a stick and sold as cotton candy.

"You smell delicious. I will enjoy sinking my teeth into your artery, but where would I want the blood? Would I want to take it from your jugular or somewhere a little easier to hide my mark like the vein between your thighs?" He marked his statement by thrusting his free hand between Wally's thighs.

Wally's muscles ticked with surprised by the invasion even as he instantly went hard. He was caught off guard, but his face betrayed nothing. "Stop talking and just do it."

His face went hard again. It was a look the Count knew so well, but it was false brevity. What Wally said and did were so opposite of how his heart felt. He kept his mask carefully in place. The Count chuckled as he carefully drew his hand in and out from between Wally's clutched thighs.

"You need to get out of my head or I will make you get out of my head," Wally threatened.

"You believe that's possible, baby boy? You think you can stop what I've already done to you? Or how your body responds so quickly to me?"

Wally got his hands up between them and tried pushing back, but his strength didn't compare. The only thing he had going for him was the element of surprise and he screwed that up the minute he walked through the door to the tiny cell.

He let the boy tire himself out, trying to push away. Even gave him false hope by putting a little space between them, but the angrier and more scared Wally became, the more delicious the scent that emitted off him. His blood was hot. He was rallied and full of adrenaline and serotonin and testosterone.

"What does my bite do to you?" He asked, knowing the naughty truth in its entirety. If Wally hadn't been a virgin, he wouldn't be so succumbed by the effects. Sexually active people would find another outlet for the desire a mark would leave on their inner most hot spots.

Wally froze in his arms. "Invasive. Cumbersome. Itchy. Unwanted like the hack villain you are."

He laughed and the football star shivered in his arms. "Not completely unwanted or you wouldn't be here right now. Tell me now, Wally, about that itch. You can't quite appease it can you?"

He tongued the blue vein pressing against Wally's neck. The operative hissed. His fingers tightened in the Count's shirt as he forgot to fight back. The hell bent child needed so much therapy and he was the one that could fix it all by giving Wally the one thing he needed the most; a master, someone who was stronger, more determined and more dominant. He needed guidance, and someone in full control to take him down the right journey.

He found a new, warm patch of skin he wanted to bruise and his fangs itched their way down his gums until his canines made his mouth full. It was easy to ignore Wally's hold on the hand he had shoved between the football player's thighs.

"Please," Wally begged, breathless and wanton.

His eyebrow arched with interest. "Please what, Wally. Tell me what you want. Tell me everything you want from me."

"Please," Wally begged again. It could've been a plea to stop or a plea to continue, had the young man known what he really wanted, but he could tell that Wally tittered on the brink of sorts, and he couldn't weigh his options given his current state.

"Baby boy, tell me what you want. So gorgeous, aren't you Wally? You don't hear that, do you, because you're too busy being the protector. Do you want someone to protect you?" he asked.

Wally started to shift in his arms. He was trying to make a decision and his decision said he shouldn't be here. They both know that's what should logically be going through Wally's head. The child's eyes were dazed when he met his gaze. Wally swallowed hard. Yes, he was very aware he shouldn't be here.

The Count tightened his hold on Wally's hair and arched his neck back again. Wally cried out, surprised by the force and the Count sucked on the skin he intended to bite. The football player subconsciously started grinding into his touch. The heat from his hardened organ radiated through his jeans as Wally's breathing shifted, growing shallow and quick.

"That's right my swan, my sweet virgin, you are behaving so good for me, staying so calm. I'm not going to hurt you more than I have too," he whispered over his neck, stealing the younger man's heat.

He sank the tips of his incisors through the top layer of skin, feeling the give of the healthy, young flesh protecting the vital veins below the surface. Hot blood, radiating the heat of life and sunlight, rushed over his cold lips and tongue. He latched his mouth around the hole, digging in deeper. Wally cried out, clutching the front of the Count's orange jumper. For a human, his strength was impressive, but not a match to a vampire's strength.

He suckled on the wound. The wet sounds filled the quiet of the room. He stroked the outline of Wally's hardness and the young man pushed into his hand. Tension leaked out of his tight muscles, making the youth warm, malleable and oh so willing. The football star wanted to feed him. It was loudly spoken in the way Wally's breath hitched with content.

He slid his fangs from Wally's skin and licked at his mark. When he remained lethargic, the Count took the young man's face from the cradle of his shoulder so he could look into his beautifully dazed and content eyes. Wally's lips were open as he came down from his high. He took that moment to press their mouths together. Wally passively allowed the abuse on his mouth. One day soon, he'd make the young man orgasm, but not here in the room when he could hear the soft click of boots coming down the corridor.

The Count pulled back, allowing the operative to wake from his spell. "Hide your new marks, Mister Beatles. I will not have anyone impeding on my claim. You are completely mine."

Wally's eyes widened in panic. This time when he pulled away, the Count let him go. He raised a hand to his neck and closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. It confirmed his suspicion; there was no way the Brats-Next-Door knew their hitter was at the prison donating blood.

Wallabee pulled his shirt on and then his jacket, zipping it all the way up. Even with the fluffy hoodie, it didn't cover the angry, bruising welt on the kid's neck.

"Get out of my head," Wally growled, pointing a finger at him.

"Next time, I'm going to make you orgasm, kid," he promised.

Wally looked ready to faint. It had everything to do with the blood loss and heavy laden emotions. "There isn't going to be a next time. Next time you're in my head, I'm coming here with a stake."

"Empty threats, Mister Beatles. You can no sooner kill me as your new master than you can openly betray Nigel Uno as your old master."

Wally's breath caught. "I don't have a master, let alone two. Keep this up and I'll make your life a living hell."

The Count tsked. "That's not something to say to the person that is making you feel so incredibly good and Wally, unless you cut ties with your other master, I will kill him when I get out of here. I won't share you."

Wally growled. "I don't have a master! I have a leader, but Ni- Numbuh One isn't my master."

"Thou protests too much."

Wally opened his mouth, ready to throw another jab, when the door opened and the guard walked in. The older man looked at Wallabee first and frowned. The Count leaned back against the wall with his hands deep in his pockets. After a feeding like this, he couldn't get his fangs to pull back up into his jaw, which meant even with his mouth closed, the teeth protruded against his lips.

"Times up, kid. Time to get home before your parents get worried," the guard said. Under his breath he added, "Fucking skin you alive for being here if you were my kid."

Wally hissed under his breath, pulling his hood up over his face. Head lowered and shoulders pent up tight, he left the room, but his scent lingered. The Count took a deep breath of testosterone and pheromones and the deeply rooted desire that hit every young man when he was sexually active, except Wally wasn't like every young man. Wallabee Beatles still portrayed strong innocents… but that innocence was slowly fading. He could see it today.

oOo

Wally didn't go back to the tree house. The porch light was on as he slid inside, locking the door behind him. There was another light on in the living room and he caught his face in the round mirror. Blood, red against his pale features, startled the hell out of him. No wonder the guard stared so hard at him.

All the way home, he tasted blood in his mouth. Now he knew why. Staring at his obscene reflection made him hot with anger, but it quickly cooled into confusion. He went straight to the kitchen and poured water and drank it. It wasn't enough. He was so thirsty. He opened the fridge and everything looked great. He placed the milk, orange juice, Gatorade and tea in a row on the counter and went down the line, consuming as much as his stomach could hold. He had to stop before he reached the Root Beer. His stomach couldn't take any more.

He scooped more than needed into the coffee filter and turned the pot on. He couldn't sleep. He absolutely couldn't let himself sleep or he would dream and the Count would call him back. Until the connection was broken, he had to make sure the vampire couldn't reach him through his dreams. He drank what he could of the coffee, all black with no cream or sugar. When his stomach hurt from all the liquid, he set his cup to the side. He'd be drinking it all night now. He really, really, really couldn't allow himself to go unconscious. He couldn't remember his dreams, but he knew the Count was there.

He moved quietly to the bathroom, stripped out of his clothes and glanced at his reflection again. There was still blood on his face that didn't wipe off in the kitchen. He was pale and his pupils were blown wide against the blue-gray of his irises. The bite made a welt where his shoulder met his neck. The skin was bruised from the suction. He could still hear the obscene sound of the Count feeding off his body. The wet suckling went straight down a white hot line to his shaft. He shivered and tried to shove the thought into a very tight box as he climbed into the shower.

Tomorrow, Nigel would probably ask why he didn't go to the tree house. He had to be prepared that his team would try to analyze his behavior. No more. He was done with the Count. He would easily bury this and go on as usual.

"Sorry Count, I'm not your thrall or …" He instantly blushed, "everything else you go on about."