Wally wasn't sure how far he'd driven, and with the Count's explicit directions not to use his credit card for gas, he kept glancing nervously at his fuel meter. The point hung dangerously close to the large, red E.
E for empty, like a large exclamation mark.
"Don't worry, pet. You'll see the restaurant in a quarter of a mile." The voice remained coaxing, filling his head with gray smoke.
He scanned the tree line that followed the road. The forest was thick with brush. The sunlight barely peaked over the treetops, leaving a great deal of shadow on the road due to the massive trees, hundreds of years older than him. The Count was hundreds of years older than him too. His skin prickled with fear. Why was he doing this?
He was feeling a great deal of hollowness right now, inside and out. Everything inside him said he should throw on the breaks and call his parents to come and get him. They would ask questions. And they might put him in the hospital for extreme exhaustion… or madness. Would he be a sitting duck in the hospital? Maybe he should've taken Nigel's offer to be held at the Kids Next Door space station until this connection was severed.
The Count's chuckle soothed every fine line of worry from his mind and body. He sunk deeper into his chair, barely able to keep his eyes open. The sun was fading behind the trees and the very few cars that passed him, heading towards the city he was leaving behind, all had their lights on. The two bright globes of light from the cars became another strange focus, like very large bugs humming along at top speeds.
He gripped the wheel, afraid his mind would succumb to the dark promises and he'd wreck the car. His heart elevated with anticipation and a little culpability. There was no heading back. By now, Nigel would've noticed the locator was heading in the wrong direction as Jaxson headed home.
"Mmm, baby boy, I'll help you permanently forget all your troubles. Just a little farther." The Count's voice slid through him, redirecting his thoughts. The space between the trees were getting so dark that it was impossible to see even beyond the lights of the oncoming traffic.
He switched his lights on, though he wasn't so sure he needed them. It wasn't that he could suddenly see in the dark, it was more as if something lead him; like he sat in a toy car on a toy race track. The car remained steady even with his conscious sliding in and out. His mind kept flashing to images that instantly brought euphoria and a little too much excitement that he wasn't fully use too. The type of excitement that came while dating, something he never really explored, not with all the sports he constantly joined and both his sports teams and his operative team depending on his strength and endurance to see them through.
"Don't consider them for another minute." The Count warned.
His breath hitched as the endorphins slid into his system. He immediately straightened when he realized he was sinking back against the seat and his eyes were drifting shut. The sudden surge of fear erased the immediate comfort.
He leaned into the wheel, fumbling with the volume button on the radio. Music blasted into near quiet rumble of the car. He rolled the windows down and the wind brushed in with fierceness, batting his hair back against his face. With night fall, the air had a cold bite. It was greatly welcomed. He needed something to cool his overly stimulated jets.
A little space in the trees had been cleared just off on the right side of the road. A shack, probably didn't hold much more than eighty people max, sat with Christmas lights glowing and flickering red and green. He had a feeling it wasn't something the owners ever took down. He could pass it; continue towards the next town and decide what to do from there. He could try and outrun the Count and these cravings…
Yet, he barely felt the finality of his decision as he slowed the car and turned into the gravel lot. His only mentality was autopiloted. He found a free spot towards the back of the lot. The Christmas lights reflected in his review mirror as he turned the car off and sat in the silence. His hands shook when he brushed his fingers through his hair.
This was madness.
A tap on the glass window made him jump. His hand was already moving to the door latch as he stared at the pristine black suited torso of his assailant. The Count backed up, giving him room to slide out and shut the door. The keys were still in the ignition and the door unlocked. His heart raced in his chest.
"What did you do to me? I shouldn't be here." He hated the uncertainty in his voice. He hated how the very presence of the Count made his heart flutter with a very dark, demented school boy crush. He hated most how he couldn't turn and walk away from this bizarre behavior of his.
"You're still incredibly shy after everything I've witness in your life this year." The Count put a hand to either side of him, boxing him up against his car. The metal was still warm from the drive. It brought little comfort.
"I never gave you permission to be in my head," Wally growled. Some of his athletic aggression creeped into his tone. He balled his fists with every intention of taking back his life, but the Count caught his jaw and tilted his head so their eyes could meet. Immediately, he felt swallowed by those dark, brown orbs. It left him drowning on dry land.
"It's adorable that you still think you have any choice in this matter. You haven't been in control since the day you allowed me to insert my venom into your body. You gave me that connection. You and your team were so caught up in the win, you never thought of the long-term consequences. It's beautiful really." The Count's fingers became bruising against his jaw bone, tilting his head even farther.
Wally's hands flew up to the Count's upper arms. His panic was real. The bitterness slid into his blood. He could taste it at the back of his throat. "No. Not here, someone will see."
"There are people watching right now. Look." The Count's words were liquid gold edging into all the dry cervices of his brain.
He shifted his weight to follow the Count's eyes and the vampire allowed it. There were two young men, one in a white cowboy hat and the other in a brown one, standing at the back of their pickup truck. Both watched with open interest. Wally opened his mouth to call to them, to ask them to come and help him, but cold fingers at his chin, drew his attention back to the Count and his inhuman eyes.
"Be smarter than that, Mister Beatles. I have no quims killing them," he said.
Wally swallowed. "Please, not here."
The Count chuckled as he nuzzled his nose along Wally's neck. "Mister Beatles, I know you aren't giving me an order."
Wally barely shook his head. He swallowed hard when those cold fingers caught the bottom of his shirt. He was back on autopilot, raising his arms and allowing his shirt to come up over his head. The wind felt colder against his skin, filtered by the ominous trees. He could feel the cowboy's attention. The Count hid nothing of his intentions.
The Count tossed his shirt onto the roof of the car. "We won't need this where we're going."
"We're leaving then?" The relief was evident. Even his shoulders slumped with the news that this wouldn't happen in public.
He turned to face the car and found himself blinking when he realized what he'd done from the brief squeeze to his hip. His whole body was wired to the vampire's silent commands. The cowboys were openly staring now, mouths gapped like they were startled this was happening in the parking lot. Wally felt the same.
"Show them your pretty o-face." The Count's words made him burn with embarrassment.
He turned into putty when fangs scrapped along his skin. He sucked the air in, trying to breathe past the tingling promise building at the center of his pelvis. This was so wrong. His conscious screamed for him to fight.
The pressure from the vampire's fangs were unbearable. He couldn't breathe past the initial shock as the twin blades breached his flesh. His blood turned thick, like sheering hot silver had been introduced to his system. The compressive ball of bliss in his pelvis burst and he rode out his pleasure sandwiched between the Count and the car.
He didn't want to come down from this. Never.
oOo
Dread sat heavily in Nigel's stomach when yellow police tape prevented them from entering the lot. Hoagie pulled their car off the side of the road and they sat in silence, staring at the flashing lights on the emergency vehicles and police cars. Two news vans were also stationed on the outside of the tape with the reporters backs to the scene.
"We have to sneak in there," Nigel said. He pushed the car door open and a gust of cold, damp air rushed into the car. The nights were considerably cooler when surrounded by the forest. The sirens across the street were off, but the lights kept rooving the darkness with their bright colors, brighter than the two streetlamps in the lot.
"What are we going to say if we get caught? Man, we have very few operatives with the highway patrol." Abby caught his wrist. Her weight stalled his action.
His stomach clenched so tightly, he thought he'd vomit. "This has something to do with Wally."
"Of course, it does. The Count's been toying with him." Abby's voice rose in volume. Stressed like the rest of them.
She let him go and he crossed the street over to where the reporters fed the cameras information. He caught a few words; severe animal attack, body dragged into the forest, Fish and Wildlife search teams.
"He did it. He killed Wally," Kuki said, with disbelief.
He suddenly couldn't breathe. A hand on Nigel's back patted in reassurance. "Until I see a body, Wally will never be dead to me."
oOo
Wally teetered on the brink of unconsciousness; if it weren't for the resilient sense of dread that grew stronger with each second of awareness. He blinked until his vision cleared enough for him to completely take in his surroundings. There was a wooden roof over his head. He laid on top of a mattress, but that didn't help with the stiffness that went muscle deep.
He felt like a cadaver.
He rolled onto his side and sighed. It took so much energy and his brain wanted to shut back off.
"Your body will get used to the blood loss and your recovery will start adjusting." The Count's rich tone stretched from the shadowy corners of the room.
They were alone. He could sense that, even before his eyes and brain buffered enough to make sense of his circumstance. He forced himself upright, barely catching the sheet before it fell from his naked thighs. Crap. Even his boxers were now neatly folded on top of the rest of his clothes on a wood rocking chair. A fire burned in the fireplace, not that the Count needed it.
Wally jutted his chin at the fireplace. "Am I supposed to be indebted for this small favor?"
"In time, when your anger has passed," the Count responded.
"They'll come for me. They aren't going to let this rest." And he shouldn't either. At least that part of his brain was functioning again. It was like waking from a lucid dream. Everything inside him said he had to get out of here, but where here was, he didn't know.
"I expect they will, for a while, until they have ample reason to believe you're dead," the Count said.
Wally brought the sheets closer to his body. He was cowering. He never cowered; not on the field and not when facing danger. "I'll never stop fighting this."
The Count materialized. "It pains me to see you battling with your new life, so I'll fix it."
Wally barely scooted across the bed before the vampire was on top of him. He screamed and thrashed, trying to kick him off, but his limbs only met with air. The weight became suffocating.
Sharp incisors pierced his skin forcing a moan from his lips. He pressed his backside against the Count's fully dressed body. The vampire's starch pressed clothing felt too rough against all his sensitive skin. His body coiled with heat until he was screaming into the pillow with his pleasure and release.
The obscured voice in his head continued to whisper, but be barely comprehended. "You are alone. You are mine. There is no one in this world you want to be with. There is no one in this world you know. You travel with the vampires. You must never trust the humans."
"Are you going to make me a vampire?" Talking left his throat raw. His eyes burned with tears. He was crying. He'd never been so afraid in his life and he couldn't deny it now.
"You're not worthy of the vampire blood, Wallabee. You are my beloved donor and the humans will kill you just as quickly for it." The Count's cultured voice filled the silence. "You only have me. Only me, baby boy. Repeat that out loud."
"No." He tried to fight again, but the mist held tightly to his limbs, locking him down against the bed. "No! I will never be yours."
"You already are."
oOo
It took two days of aimless wandering and backtracking before a possible path was found. Staying out of the way of the search and rescue teams made the process drag. On the fourth day, the search and rescue found clothing shreds and shards of bone. That'd been two days ago. The waiting kept his stomach sour.
Nigel came back into camp. "Come on guys, it's time to go."
"Nigel, stop." Hoagie said.
Nigel didn't immediately stop until a hand caught his shoulder. It wasn't Hoagie. It was Abigail who had stopped him. He searched her face, but she remained guarded.
"Man, you need to hear this," Abigail said.
Nigel's chest tightened. He turned to Hoagie who had his computer open and on his lap. Kuki was the only one with red eyes, but there was no proof she'd been crying. The dread dropped from his chest to his stomach.
"The DNA results for the bio material found, came through this morning," Hoagie said. His goggles were up on top of his head. His eyes were red rimmed and soft; sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Nigel. Wally's dead."
"They don't know that. A few shards of bone doesn't prove anything." The world narrowed in on him. He swayed back, caught by the trunk of a massive tree. It didn't keep the world from spinning. "It doesn't prove anything."
"The amount of blood at the car, the bone shards," Hoagie shook his head. "I think we need to call this in with mission control. We… we need to see a counselor."
"So that's it? We're giving up on Wally?" Nigel stood upright. Anger tightened every muscle in his body. He couldn't believe the team would throw in the towel.
"Nigel, we're in denial. All of us. We didn't see this coming and it blindsided us. This mission went wrong. We've heard stories, but we were too cocky. We didn't think it would happen to us," Abigail said.
"Leave then, but I'm not going until I find his body." Nigel bent down, collecting his supplies from the camp.
"You're going to search thousands of acres of mountain and hidden caverns by yourself?" Kuki asked.
The conversation ended with him walking away. He was only alone for half an hour before he heard the familiar hum of hushed conversation as his team caught up.
oOo
Wally woke in complete darkness. He jerked up against the wall; cold, hungry and scared.
The Count did it. He was dead.
No. There was too much room for this to be a coffin. Purgatory then?
A familiar chuckle eased the confusion. Oh how he hated that part that found comfort in the vampire. The part of him that found normalcy in their routine. "I'll never accept this!"
"I will greatly enjoy breaking you into submission." The words followed a touch that slid from his shoulders down to his elbow, frigid, dead fingers trailed down his bare skin.
Great! He brought his hands up to guard his skin. The darkness was utterly complete. His skin prickled from the coldness that ran bone deep, uncomfortable enough to convince him that maybe, just maybe he was alive.
"Where are we?" Mold and dampness clung to the air. They were underground, maybe a hidden cavern. It didn't smell like death so they weren't in a catacomb. The ground was dirt, the wall against his back was rocky. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the distinct drip of water gathering in a puddle.
"You shouldn't be concerned with your location." Humor. The Count found this amusing.
The longer he was awake, the more acute his brain became to his nudity. He used the wall to stand. His muscles protested the movement. It was useless looking for a light source; the vampire didn't need one and he doubted the creature would do anything to ease someone else's discomfort.
"Trying to crawl away? I'm still so hungry." A dry laugh followed the statement.
He didn't respond. Instead, he stuck one foot in front of the other and started walking with both hands on the wall, for balance and for help with direction. Walking in the dark was suicide, but doing nothing about it was idiotic.
"Careful, child. There are a number of holes leading to caverns even deeper than this one. You'd risk breaking a bone to prove your stubbornness?"
The Count's words stilled his movement. This was pointless. He was naked, freezing, hungry, exhausted from blood loss, completely blind in the darkness, and disoriented. There really was no way out.
As if the Count heard these thoughts, the creature brushed up against him, forcing him closer to the wall. The fabric of his clothing rubbed harshly against his dirty skin, pressing the tiny rocks into his flesh. It could've been sandpaper due to the similar, painful damage.
"That's right, Wallabee Beatles, scream. No one is coming for you. As far as your family and friends are concerned, you're dead." Each word ended with a nasty nip at Wally's neck. The Count's incisors drew lines over his flesh, surface cuts that stung.
Poison. The Count was dosing him with vampire venom. That's why the pain was slowly easing into mind numbing pleasure. It was utopia and his brain was all too willing to succumb.
oOo
The silence that followed stretched until his ears ached. It had to be days. He bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from screaming, but even then, he couldn't fight it. He needed a sound.
It hurt.
His throat. His joints. His skin. His brain.
He begged. He said he wouldn't, but he did. He hated himself too. He hated everything about himself and in the quiet space that was worse than purgatory, there was so much time to think about everything that lead up to this.
He was stupid. He really was. That's why everyone else was running off to college and he'd only serve as muscle. No one would let him make the decisions. He was too afraid to apply to any of the colleges so he applied for the military…
And now, he was alone. So. So. Alone.
Water. The best thing in the entire world fell over his lips. Wet. Cold. Satiating.
"Slowly." The Count ordered, controlling the water. The vampire held him still with one arm wrapped around his limbs.
His head rested on the Count's shoulder as the vampire held the water bottle to his lips. He wasn't sure how much he drank, but the creature didn't tease him or pull the bottle away. He drank until he felt like he was drowning in the perfect liquid, then he drank more.
"Th-thank you." Did he just thank the creature holding him captive? And did he actually mean it? Yes, deep down, he did. And it was confusing.
The vampire stroked his shoulders and let his hands go all the way down to his stomach where he rubbed circles. It wasn't until he went lower, did Wally realize that he was hard. His sac felt heavy too.
"Eat." The command was gentle.
It took a second to realize that food was placed in his hands. The first bite of the bar left his tongue chalky. Maybe it was a power bar, if he had to guess. He shoved the rest of it in his mouth and was given more water.
"Why?" It hurt to talk. Hell, it hurt to swallow, but he did both anyway.
The hands that righted him were colder than his skin. Those same hands pushed his hair from his face. He tried to keep his eyes open.
"Put your arms around me and I can make your pain go away," the Count whispered.
He was scared. So. Fucking. Scared.
But he didn't know what he was scared of any more. Was it the dark? Was it being alone? Was it the future? Or his addiction? Or the fact that he almost no longer cared about the addiction as long as the vampire didn't leave him alone again.
"Water."
"You can have all the water you want. I'll even let you bathe if you put your arms around me and accept me as your master." The vampire nuzzled his neck and kissed his cheek.
He tried to push against the arms, but he lacked the strength. He couldn't even right his head, which made his neck hurt until hands adjusted him against the crook of the vampire's neck.
"I… I can't. I don't want this," Wally tried again to push out of the Count's arms.
"You are killing yourself," the Count said.
He was placed back on the ground. After what felt like hours, he gave into the crying. But there were no real tears, just the pain that wrecked through his body. Did he want to die? Like this?
"Okay." He whispered. Everything in his brain said he wanted this. He really, really did. The vampire was his full on desire.
The creature suckled on his neck and he leaned into it. The mew poured from his lips before he could stop it.
oOo
He knew the human would give in. He knew the second the child came to visit him in the prison, that the football star was his. He kissed the boy's shoulder and sucked on the skin with no intention of biting him. Wallabee had already lost too much blood.
He needed to heal.
So he wrapped his lithe fingers around the boy's hot organ and gave it a few soft, slow strokes before dipping lower, grabbing his slave by his sac. It was heavy with youth, ready to spread his seed. The only seed he'd be spreading would always be wasted on the ground.
But he went lower now and to his surprise, Wally's legs fell open for him. The space between his cheeks were hot. His hole was practically on fire. This is what he wanted, the boy's heat.
He suckled on the pulse point on Wallabee's neck. His mouth left wet sounds as he barely pushed on Wally's entrance. The young man's knees snapped shut, trapping his wrist between his well-worked muscle, but Wally didn't fight him.
Wally was his.