A/N: Just so people know, this one's not very happy. Not sad, but…it's a vampfic, so take it as you will. Set in London around the eighteen hundreds or so. (I only mention, cause the setting is talked about much)
Inspired by the poem Vampire, by Ted Hughes. I strayed a bit from the poem, but I feel it deserves credit and people should be aware that Ted Hughes is an awesome poet.
Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts or Vampire. Thank you muchly.
INTOXICATION
No one really knew who he was, but that didn't seem to matter. The room was attracted. He looked as though he would glide across the floor; he very well might have. Who would have noticed, anyhow?
They were entranced by his glowing aqua eyes, his ethereal silver hair. The hosts couldn't even be bothered to call him a party crasher. He was too beautiful to be unwelcome.
His eyes brighten on the bar, looking to the whiskey. He quickly strides to the counter. He dispenses of the women who simpered around him, turning them away with a smile and polite disdain. The men he banishes with quick wit and disinclination to talk.
He requests the whiskey he's been eyeing; two fingers of the golden liquid. It arrives and he is enthralled with the stuff, watching it move. Held up to the light, it almost looks crimson…
He'd been lazing about the underground rooms, but he was now prepared to leave. He had groomed himself until he shined, and now he would be dirtying himself so soon.
A small brunette boy shakes, curled in his favorite chair, terrified out of his mind. The silver-haired man will be leaving soon. But he knows what comes first.
It starts as bliss. The elder reaches toward the brunette, holding him close, caressing him softly. The boy's shaking slows as he warms in the elder's arms. He considers asking him to stay, but the answer is always the same.
After a few moments, a kiss. It's sweet, almost. At the very least, there's passion, always has been. The brunette boy melts into the kiss, letting the elder hold him up. If it's going to be this way, he may as well give in completely. May as well enjoy himself. The silver-haired man smiles, deepens the kiss, claiming the younger. As it continues, his hands skim over the brunette, making him shiver. His mouth moves to whisper in the boy's ear, painting beautiful words of love and adoration.
The same mouth travels down the boy's neck, kissing and nipping its way to where a pulse beats fervently. His own pulse longs to match it, but it has been still for far too long for that.
The brunette gasps, clutching weakly at the elder. He knew it was coming, but there's no avoiding the pain as a pair of what feels like razors sink into his neck.
"Ri-" he starts, but cuts off as hot blood flows out of him. It hurts, but oh the gift of a vampire. Liquid pleasure fills his veins as they relinquish his life force.
The hold on him tightens as the silver-haired man continues to drink. It's almost painful, it's so tight.
"S-stop," the brunette manages. Immediately, the arms loosen a bit, but the elder continues at his neck, lapping up the sweet blood from the boy.
He's experienced; he knows the elder should be stopping. He tries to pull away, but the arms around him tighten again. His partner is too far gone, in a haze of both bloodlust and just plain lust for the boy in his grip.
"Stop," the boy says again, pushing against the silver-haired man. "For God's sake, stop!" If he doesn't, the boy would surely die. And where would that leave him?
The elder grimaces, eyes stitched closed in the effort to pull back. A spurt of blood squeezes past his retreating lips, landing in his silver hair, streaking it crimson. As he backs away, he realizes the boy is limp in his arms, softly pleading with him, crystal tears running down his face.
He chokes on the sight, and gathers the brunette gently into his arms. He kisses away the tears, carrying the boy to the safety of their bed. The small, beautiful boy is cold as a leaf, his heart scarcely moving.
The silver-haired man is trembling as the boy sinks into a dreamless sleep. He could have died, the man thinks brokenly. I could have lost him. I could have- But the thought must stop there. Because if it continues, he'll have to admit that he doesn't know what he would do without the boy. He couldn't be replaced like the others. The man might, in fact, die if the boy were lost to him.
He shakes off the thought. His hand trails gently down the boy's face. In his sleep, the boy leans into the touch, the only touch he has ever known. The man smiles. He retrieves his hand, feels the blood stiffened in his silver hair. He's dirtied himself again. He considers cleaning it, but when has he ever been clean?
He leaves, closing the ancient stone door behind him. He follows the underground tunnels, rising to the London streets above. Walking the dark alleys, he finds the manor he's been looking for, and melts into the crowd of aristocrats, invading the party.
He lowers the glass to his lips. Taking a sip of the whiskey, he is disappointed. It's the best that money can buy. But he knows the taste of a much sweeter drink. He closes his eyes, grinning, and recalls his intoxication.
Well, that's it. Thanks for reading. Please leave me a review. If you do, I'll love you forever!
And if anyone has any ideas/requests for a one-shot, drabble thing for this, let me know! I want some challenges. I can't promise anything, but I'll try to do any that I get.