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As a human he was a natural-borne deceiver. A self-confessed charlatan when it came to his chivalrous and respectful behaviour. A dishonest liar who adorned the perfect son persona for the family that adopted him. Yet all the while he schemed for better, hungered for power, an ambition that rivalled the very ancient scholars of past time. He was pragmatic, perhaps cruel in the eyes of others, but he was no less committed in achieving his goals. If ruthlessness was the price to pay for what he wanted than so be it.
After all, how could he not be so swayed by his own darkness? Growing up in a toxic environment where he knew nothing but the sting on his cheek courtesy of his father whenever he exhibited such courteous behaviour. A life where he witnessed nothing but pure repulsive sights in taverns. Where he was forced to beg for food and money, while his father forgot him, drinking himself into a stupor. When he witnessed nothing but pure depravity and violence at an age no child should be subject to.
But, deceitful or not, he was still a very charismatic, suave, type of man. Even when he was scheming behind a hidden mask of model courtesy, he was still just that. A man.
But after 20 years of such a lifestyle, of being nothing but a weak and stifled human, he still wasn’t satisfied. His desires only seemed to grow, to extend to an almost unfathomable, unobtainable degree for his current state of being. But when he discovered the true purpose behind the stone mask it granted him the gift of immortality, did he evolve. No longer was he held back from indulging in his power-hungry fantasises. The very same fantasies that now were within his grasp of becoming real at his own pursuit. Everything was possible and everyone could finally be his for the taking. He rejected his humanity and in return he became so much more… He was now a voracious creature. A being of pure predation perfectly curated for hunting and hunting alone. His strength, his speed, his power, everything was created for the sole purpose of dominating his prey. To consume their very life essence as their eyes hazed over, soul disappearing until nothing but the shell of their body remained. It was delicious to watch their life fade before his eyes, as his own thirst was quenched. It made him feel powerful… Godlike. But with all this newfound power came a very steep price.
The hunger. The insatiable, ever-present thirst that could never quite be fully sated. One that meant he was forced to go and retrieve his own food personally lest he become savage. It consumed every part of rational thinking when hungry. He truly would act like a feral animal that had locked away in a cage. There had even been instances where he’d not fed for so long (out of inconvenience) that when a loyal subordinate of his was brought up to feed upon, he accidentally drained them completely. The room often looked like a horrific crime scene afterwards, blood staining the bedsheets, dried flecks upon the dark carpet and the odd splatter decorating the walls.
To further add to the biological tools of pursuing his food, he was adept in seducing and charming humans. With a simple yet beguiling glance, a gentle yet possessive touch and honeyed words of desire, he could lure them for his feast. Such methods came naturally to him long before his ascension to a greater being of the night. Able to transfix and mesmerise them before luring them to his mansion, his private chambers. Where he would so kindly grant them the heaven they could only dream about before draining them during the pinnacle of their heightened ecstasy. Bestowing them such pleasure comparable of true rapture was, truly, a blessing that he needn’t grant them in his efforts to feed. But he found that willing prey always tasted sweetest. Someone experiencing the blissful sensation of an orgasm had the most delightful of tastes, an ambrosia of the hells.
Therefore, finding and conquering his prey was easy, natural. But there was a problem that he was battling, one that was becoming quite the nuisance at the minute.
He was blood-starved.
No scratch that, he was positively ravenous. Granted, it was his own fault that he found himself in such a starved predicament. He hadn’t fed in days on account of the surprised arrival of the priest who had, happily, interrupted his feeding schedule. Initially he had planned to search for a meal that very evening, bringing them back and feasting on top his dark silk bedsheets. But as he was getting himself ready, that breath-taking priest entered into his chambers and knew that all initial plans had been desecrated in an instant. Instead replaced with a romantic evening shared with the pious man. Passion-fuelled touches, hushed words of infatuation, the fleeting yet constant union of their lips in gentle kisses. Nothing was as important or worthy of his time than the catholic priest hailed from across the Atlantic and so his feeding could wait. He could survive without blood for a while, (unfortunately learnt from a near century spend confined inside a coffin in the Atlantic) at least until Enrico travelled back home again. The prospect of leaving Enrico alone in the mansion while he pursued the streets of Egypt left a bitter taste in his mouth. How could he willingly choose to stay away when Enrico had made such effort to come and surprise him? Just a few days… a few days he could hold out on…
But he first realised the problem was becoming more severe than he had originally anticipated during their love-making the previous night. Dio was straddling Pucci, riding him with increased vigour and expert movements as expected. But mid-way through his efforts, a sudden, overwhelming wave of pure fatigue came over him. It almost crippled him with its intensity, thigh muscles instantly locking in place and refusing to adhere to his own demands. Thankfully, he managed to remedy the issue by changing their position suddenly so that he was on his back, pulling Enrico into a deep kiss. One of performance that obliterated any semblance of his struggle during the act when truthfully, he could feel his legs begin to tremble from exertion. The very same that, if given a few more minutes, would have collapsed from the exertion entirely. There was absolutely no way he was to let Enrico see him in such a pathetic state, especially when he had instigated such an act with the intent to impress as usual.
But this evening the two of them were just lay across the bed, Dio sprawled across the foot whole Enrico rested his head against the headboard. In any other circumstance, Dio would relish every word that came from that man’s mouth. He adored their conversations no matter what they entailed. The deep discussions with the dedicated man of faith who’s commitment to his God was almost as strong as his commitment to Dio. How he loved that man more than he could ever express, the influx of emotions that washed over him was enough to confuse and delight him all at once.
But in this moment, he wasn’t paying attention to whatever Enrico was passionately rambling about, instead he was distracted by the scent of his blood.
The priests baritone, silky voice was difficult to decipher, becoming a comforting yet muffled background noise to his thoughts. No matter how hard he tried to focus on their conversation, it was proving futile with each passing second. He wanted ever so desperately to focus upon the words of no-doubt wisdom and intrigue that spilled from his lips. Dio raised his glance back up to the priest and nodded absent-mindedly to whatever he was saying. Enrico was so blissfully unaware of the internal battle inside Dio’s distracted mind. Where the ravenous animal and composed intellect were clashing together in a bloody battle for dominance.
The delicate thrum of Pucci’s heart echoed loudly in his own ears, his line of sight now dropping to the main source of his struggle. The slight exposed peek of his neck, where the deafening sound of his pulse emanated from. He couldn’t bring his eyes away from the sight, each time he repositioned himself a waft of his bloods unique scent entered his nose uninvited yet welcomed. The aroma was delicious, merging with the natural scent of Enrico’s skin that resembled incense and the holy candles often lit by his precious, talented hands.
A growl lingered inside his throat, animalistic in his intent. His muscles itched to pounce, longed to drive his canines deep into the skin of his neck. Oh how soft it would be, how easily he could penetrate the skin like melted butter. Driving his sharpened razor-like fangs deep beneath the epidermal layer, his bite rough and painful, seizing and claiming the priests neck for his own…
No.
Saliva accumulated ten-fold in his mouth as the aroma of his blood was picked up from his heightened, desperate senses. Keen to taste, eager to devour and ready to strike, tear and rip apart that beautiful dark flesh until nothing but a fountain of blood pooled and spilled over onto the surrounding bed sheets, bathing him in the sweet crimson nectar-
NO.
Not with Enrico. He couldn’t allow such a state to develop when in his presence. If he lost control of himself and killed him… he dread to think of such a result. His long-forgotten, non-functioning heart sank at the terrifying prospect. Would sooner starve than experience that. He had drank from him before many times, but those instances were vastly different than the one he found himself in. In those ones, he was merely the human equivalent of peckish or only drank a small fill during carnal acts of passion. Never had someone he drank from in this state survived such an experience. It took every ounce of his mental fortitude to stop himself from attacking with bared fangs and clawed hands. It was becoming more draining with each passing second. Exhausting.
“Dio?”
The sound of his name being called pulled him temporarily from the abyss of hankering hunger. Snapping his attention back up to the priests dark, beautiful eyes that reflected a certain level of uncertainty as he eyed him up. Dio rested his head upon his open palm, pursing his lips with an acknowledged hum.
“Hm?”
“Are you quite alright? You don’t seem very present to our conversation.”
A sigh left Dio’s lips, no matter how talented he could be in his deceitful ways there was always one that could see through it all. He wasn’t even aware of how long Enrico had been sat waiting for a response while his own gory fantasies clouded his mind. The ghost of a smile spread across Dio’s face, a last-ditch attempt to convince Enrico that he were completely and utterly unbothered by his affliction. A painted vision of beauty that seduced anyone and dissuade anyone from deciphering his true intentions.
“My apologies Enrico. I just… I was just slightly distracted is all.”
Everyone except Enrico, who saw through every tactic with narrowed eyes and an inquisitive frown.
“No. Something is wrong with you.”
From Enrico’s perspective, he must’ve looked completely feral. He knew that he wasn’t coming across normal. From afar he felt the gaze of the priest observe him uncertainly and Dio refused to look him in the eye. He respected Enrico too much to lie to him and to keep up this blasted charade for much longer. What he was acting like was unlike him and he knew it. So he raised his eyes again and spoke the truth that had been haunting him throughout the entirety of his stay.
“I’m starving.”
In an instant, Enrico’s face softened from a scrutinising glare to one of concern. Blinking a few times dumbly as his brain comprehended the weight of Dio’s words. After all, he had never seen Dio at his most ravenous nor had they really discussed before the extent of vampiric hunger at its worst. So this was all new, and for Dio to be so distracted meant it was a big problem the state he was in.
Honestly, the way Enrico was looking at him right now was making Dio feel an anxiety he hadn’t felt in a century. The last thing he wanted from any of this was to scare him.
“How long ago did you last feed?” Enrico asked uncertainly.
Dio’s silence and the tense of his jaw spoke more than any of his false attempts of deception could. In any other scenario, any other possible example he would be able to brush off his intense cravings until he indulged them later on. But his head pulsed with the threatening headache caused by extreme vampiric dehydration. His stomach lurched and clawed it’s way against his empty walls in attempts to make its hunger known and painful. His eyelids heavy from the fatigue, the cloud that fogged up his mind thick and asphyxiating. It had been too long, and Pucci was acutely more aware of Dio’s habits than he himself. So it really should have come as no surprise that Pucci was able to deduce the state he was in despite never being privy to it first-hand before.
“Too long.”
And It had been too long. Pucci was acutely more aware of Dio’s habits than he himself. So it really should have come as no surprise that Pucci was able to deduce the state he was in despite never being privy to it first-hand before.
“Why?”
Perhaps it was a state of his foggy state of mind that led to his somewhat slow to the uptake understanding of that question. Just as perplexed in his question back.
“Why what?”
“Why haven’t you fed?” The priest repeated with clarity.
Dio tutted his tongue and the words tumbled out despite himself. “Because I wanted to make the most of our time together. Especially since you surprised me with your presence.”
Pucci brought a hand to his forehead, fingers massaging just above his brows with a noise of discontent. Evidently annoyed or frustrated at Dio’s actions without saying a word. It wasn’t a particular pleasant sight for the vampire and if such a thing was done by anyone else they would be dealt with differently.
But instead, he felt guilty.
“I appreciate the sentiment, truly. But, and forgive me, that was incredibly foolish of you to do.” He lowered his hand and made eye contact once again. “Your needs come first and you need to deal with them as such.”
That seductive tone capable of charming anyone sang in Dio’s voice. “But my needs are sated only by you darling.” He crawled across the bed and pinned Enrico in place by his muscular thighs, straddling him while his hand began to lightly play with Enrico’s soft lips. A red tinge began to creep across the priests cheeks, already charmed and malleable to his touch.
If he could just… distract Enrico with something else… something more carnal, then the pair of them could forget the subject of this conversation for just a while longer. “I need you now… Oh God I want you Enrico…Let me show you heaven.” Dio whined dramatically, bringing his lips closer to Enrico’s.
But before he could allow himself just a moment longer to forget his thirst, to ignore it and replace it with temporary bliss instead, Enrico pulled away. That act in and of itself was enough to confuse Dio greatly, who frowned as he retreated, a serious expression spread across Enrico’s features.
“Feed from me.”
Absolutely not.
“No.”
“Dio-”
“I said no.”
Enrico huffed out an impatient sigh. “Stop being like that. Why won’t you feed from me? You’ve done it before.”
“Because I-“ Dio cut himself off with a frustrated sigh of his own, one that threatened to explode into a moment of utter rage from an overwhelming rise of unwanted emotions. Vulnerability was something he loathed to ever experience, refusing to ever allow it to enter his subconscious since his years as a meagre, weak child. “Because it’s too much… your blood will set me off and I am so starved that I don’t know how to stop myself from going too far.”
Pucci then gingerly moved closer to Dio across the bed and raised his hand to stroke his face. “I trust you.”
Dio flinched and responded with an exhaled whisper, one full of uncertainty. “Enrico, I don’t trust myself.”
“Dio.” Pucci called his name calmly yet firmly and the vampire finally lifted his gaze to meet the priests gentle look, full of silent encouragement. It was frustrating how much that look could be so effortlessly easing and capable of calming him. How his eyes radiated nothing but love and adoration.
“Drink from me. I know you won’t harm me. If it gets too much I’ll tell you.”
Dio attempted to deflect his discomfort from such a stare by playfully teasing. “I know you enjoy the sensation of my feeding. Let’s not pretend this is an entirely selfless decision of yours Enrico dearest. Your little… shakes of excitement when I drink from you…”
Pucci raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “You’re right, I’ve never tried to deceive you regarding that. But that being said, right now isn’t for my own pleasure but for your needs. Now let me help you.” The priest then undid the first few buttons on his shirt and exposed his shoulder from the sleeve. Now baring the naked flesh of his neck towards him, Dio’s eyes fluttered at the sight, the scent even more intoxicating now the distance between them had been removed. Dio couldn’t remove his eyes from the sight and swallowed the excess saliva that built in his mouth. But he refused to bring his teeth closer, no matter how much his head screamed in defiance to his actions.
“Please Dio…Please let me help you.” Pucci all but whispered, almost sounding as desperate as Dio’s growling, famished stomach, painfully lurched at the sight of his magnificent neck. With a sigh, Dio relented, letting Enrico wrap his fingers around his hair and guide his mouth towards the source of his torment. Where his heart beat raced and pulsed in his neck.
“You truly are the best of your people Enrico…” Dio whispered against his pulse. The flat of his tongue pressed up against that same spot without realising he were doing so.
An unseen smile crept across Pucci’s face. “Anything for you. Now feed.”
Dio then obediently opened his mouth and let his fangs bite down into the skin. An almost desperate whine escaped Dio’s throat as soon as that crimson liquid touched his tongue. One he could hate himself for accidentally letting slip in any other instance but his mind was too singularly focused on consuming his essence. All his mind could comprehend, all it was capable of in its current coherency was complete satiation. Pure delight. A craving that was now being dealt with.
He was vaguely aware of the hand running through his hair from Enrico, and whilst it’s presence was pleasant it was nothing compared to the nectar he was swallowing in copious amounts. Nothing could ever be as delightful as that beautiful flavour, his own unique taste that far outranked anyone else’s. Tears of pure bliss almost threatened to form in the corners of his eyes. His throat getting painted with crimson red, the overwhelming taste of iron imbued with a singular addictive essence that could only be described as Enrico Pucci. An almost sickly sweet, honey-esque flavour that made his tongue tingle. It was as addictive as any drug-like substance, incredibly potent and stimulating.
He wanted nothing more than to consume the very being of this man that he ached for more than anything else. True elation taking over every fibre of his being. The blood continued to ooze and trickle down his throat as his lips became stained red, accidentally dripping free from the corner of his lips as he better adjusted his mouth over the wounds. Sucking harder to siphon more of his blood, becoming more sated with each added gulp. Dio was unaware of the low moans that rumbled in his throat, that to Pucci, sounded almost powerless and naked in contrast to his usual self. In the lust-filled, cloudy haze of his mind that screamed feed, feed and feed again he desperately tried to cling onto any sense of his strength. To avoid getting lost in the frenzied blood-lust that threatened to consume his entire state of being.
His breathing intensified through his nostrils, a phenomenon that was useless now that he was a vampire, with a body that didn’t require such primitive bodily requirements to survive. But it didn’t stop the heavy breaths from amplifying, stumbling over each one in a race to fill his empty lungs. Between each occasional swallow of blood, that eased the incessant hunger pains with each swig down his gullet, a noise of pure pleasure slipped through. Resembling non-other than the sounds that slipped free during their passionate, intimate love-making. The moments where Dio’s whines and whimpers were free to escape only during such sex with Enrico. Where he was free of judgement, free from the weight of his emperor-esque role with every lowly mortal and follower who admired him, where he could just…be.
A grip tightened in his hair, pulling harshly in a twist of ecstasy and pain from the priest. The moans from him sounded beautiful. His body was now completely pushed up against Enrico’s, eager to be as close as was humanly possible, tighter than a boa-constrictors grip. Sharp nails beginning to lightly dig into the back of his neck and shoulder, an attempt to claim him even further. Enrico’s blood becoming increasingly hotter in that addictive and
In any other scenario of feeding, he would bring his hands to play and tease at Enrico’s body, palming at the startings of a growing erection or even his sensitive nipples. To arouse and make him squirm within his iron-grip for pure sadistic pleasure. But right now he was too singularly focused on controlling his feeding before it developed into an uncontrolled frenzy. Deep inside he knew that he had to force himself to stop and if he didn’t… he dread to think of the repercussions. Enrico would never push him away, and if Dio so refused to unlatch himself from his grasp, he would gladly let him drain him dry. Ridiculously loyal even when faced with the prospect of his own death. Dio couldn’t help but admire such dedication from him, perverse as it may be.
Upon hearing an strangled noise of pain from the priest, a no doubt attempted stifle of such discomfort, Dio knew he had to stop. So he ripped himself away with every last inch of his strength. A satisfied moan escaped his lips once he finally pulled away, exhaling with such force that it could almost be mistaken for his very first breath. He felt the last remnants of Enrico’s blood trickle from the corners of his open mouth, but he was overcome with elation to care about the mess dribbling down his chin. In this moment if Enrico were to betray him, there would be no attempts to stop an attack, for Dio was torpid in his feasting afterglow.
But it seemed that Enrico decided to clean him up for him, bringing his thumb to delicately catch the drips of his own blood. With heavy clouded eyes, Dio watched as Enrico brought that thumb up to the vampires lips which opened up naturally without hesitation, enveloping them around his thumb. All the while, Pucci was enamoured with the sight of a compliant Dio, who was in a very specific headspace right now. His eyes closed, humming small throaty moans as his tongue continued to lap up the last remnants of Pucci’s blood around his thumb. Saliva mixed with plasma, the texture an odd combination as Dio continued to lap up every last drop. He had never seen him in such a haze before, so completely blissed beyond the point of coherence. Is this how desperate for blood he really was? To be greedily lapping up the last remnants of blood like a starved cat?
He removed his thumb from Dio’s mouth and stroked his face again. “Dio…?”
“Mmm?” Dio hummed, eyes still closed In blissful satiation.
“Are you alright?” Enrico asked quietly, careful not to startle Dio as he blinked slowly and returned back to their current situation.
“Ah yes… yes of course. Thank you.” Dio smiled, pressing a small, gentle kiss against Enrico’s plump lips before laughing slightly. “Oh that was orgasmic.”
Enrico smirked and sat back more with a teasing tone. “Yes you made some interesting noises.”
Dio threw back his head with a hearty laugh. “I suppose so. You have no idea how much that has helped me… I feel normal again.”
“You should have told me that it had got that bad. I would have helped earlier.” Pucci raised his eyes to meet Dio’s and sighed. “Please don’t do it again.”
“Hm. Fine, fine I shall.” Dio dismissed with a wave of his hand before settling his eyes back upon the wounds he left behind on his neck. “Not my finest work I must admit. A tad sloppy on my part.”
“Well, you were ravenous. That being said I definitely need to keep my collar on at all times now, even when I’m outside the church.” He tutted and lightly caressed the distressed patch of skin now coated in drying blood. “Thank you for that.”
“You’re most welcome my dearest. And I do apologise for that. But that doesn’t mean you have to cover it in here… I quite like the marks I leave behind.” Dio purred, slowly unbuttoning Enrico’s shirt fully and sliding his arms free from the fabric. The priest merely rolled his eyes but let Dio do as he pleased, baring his torso to match Dio’s own naked chest. “There we go… much better.”
Pucci smirked. “I thought you liked my collar.”
“Oh I do. But your bare neck is even more inviting.” Dio said, bringing his lips to kiss his neck, sucking lightly on the other side of his neck that hadn’t been fed from. Enrico moaned quietly in response.
“Don’t I know it. Your hungry looks at my neck were not exactly subtle.”
“I couldn’t stop myself… your essence is ever so distracting…” Dio lifted his head to look at Enrico once more, tilting it slightly to the side with a slight smile. “Now that I’m in my right mind once more, would you care to continue our conversation? I recall you had some interesting questions you wished to discuss.”
Enrico smiled and sat up more against the headboard. “Of course my friend.”