Page 24 of Vampire Claus

Paul. Even his name brought a sense of eagerness and excitement.

Closing the rooftop hatch behind him, he returned to the shabby apartment building. The storage room was right where Paul had indicated. He broke the lock, barricaded the door from inside, and made a bed for the day.

•••

When the sunset on Christmas night, Taviano opened his eyes, briefly confused by his surroundings. He lay in a dusty room. Smells came to him, of old wood and rusting metal, and a dead rodent in the walls. The distant aroma of tomatoes and garlic was tantalizing. Where was he? But then he remembered.

He remembered his dreams too. They’d been vivid but not of his own experiences. Gradually he’d recognized even in his sleep they were a mix of memories from the two consumed bloodbeasts.

By the time he awoke, he’d learned many things he needed to know. He understood how Boston worked, and knew other places where the woman had stashed spoils from her victims. He knew as well her magical affinity to fire was as natural to her as his was to air. That thought he filed away for further contemplation. She’d had no more need than Taviano for money but she had a taste for the blood of wealthy people, and for pretty things.

At least no more humans in the North End would die so needlessly.

Putting the deposed vampire out of his mind, Taviano focused. He realized he could hear Paul bustling around his apartment four floors above. He was singing “Good King Wenceslas” off-key but with great enthusiasm. Taviano rose from the pallet he’d made for himself and slipped out of the storage room.

He rapped at Paul’s apartment for politeness, grinning with anticipation. The singing stopped and rapid footsteps crossed the floor. The door swung open and there was his Paul, with glowing eyes, unruly hair, and delighted smile.

“’Sup, bae!” he cried and launched himself at Taviano. Grabbing his head in both hands, they kissed like they hadn’t seen each other for months instead of hours.

Laughing, Taviano scooped up Paul. He carried him into the apartment, reaching back with one foot to kick the door closed. He registered a blur of warm light, but only had eyes for Paul. They ended on the futon, with Paul wriggling out of his T-shirt and jeans as Taviano also undressed.

Naked, they lay pressed together again, Taviano on his back as he stroked Paul’s hair out of his eyes. “Merry Christmas,” he said softly.

Paul smiled at him warmly. “You too, Taviano. I’m so glad to see you.” He swiveled his hips, causing his hard member to slide against Taviano’s erection. “I think you’re glad to see me too,” he murmured cheekily.

“Let me show you how glad.” Taviano turned their bodies until Paul’s prick rested against his lips and his own brushed Paul’s mouth. The taste of arousal was as delicious in its own way as blood. He didn’t know which felt better—the tongue on him or the warm reality of a prick in his mouth.

He took his cues from Paul, mirroring him as Paul gently squeezed his balls and pulled him deep into his throat. When Paul stroked between his legs to brush maddeningly over his entrance, Taviano echoed it. Every way of touching was new and exquisite. Plentiful precome coated Taviano’s tongue as Paul thrust his hips to get further into Taviano’s mouth.

Remembering how Paul had reacted to fangs at his carotid, Taviano squeezed his erection around the base. Pulling back until a few inches remained in his mouth, he very lightly dragged his eyeteeth over the shaft. Paul gasped and stopped sucking to rest his forehead against the futon. Taviano stroked him firmly and positioned the wide shaft so it lay between his fangs. The deadly points formed a gateway to his throat.

Paul spasmed and thrust harder between the ivory spikes. He cried out and came in great splashes of semen that coated Taviano’s tongue. He was still twitching when he took Taviano’s member into his mouth again; in seconds it was his turn to explode. Paul swallowed down the ichor eagerly. Taviano found to his relief he was able to control the urge to come over and over like the night before.

They lay there, nursing gently on each other’s softening prick. Paul finally crawled back up Taviano’s body to kiss him. The tastes of ichor and come mingled on their tongues, creating something uniquely of them.

Finally they rested with Paul’s head on Taviano’s shoulder. He murmured, “Dude, I don’t know what’s better. The way you fuck or the way you suck cock.”

Taviano kissed his brow. “Luckily you don’t have to choose. Tell me about your day?”

“My day was nowhere near as interesting as my night, believe me. Let’s see. I dragged myself out of bed at six to go to the diner. Even with your magical healing juice, my ass let me know all over again that it had been well and truly fucked.”

He ran his tongue up Taviano’s neck to his jaw and finished by blowing a raspberry against the skin there. “Andthatmeant I had to jerk off in the shower, which made me a few minutes late. After my boss reamed out my poor abused ass all over again, I started cooking for the hordes that couldn’t or didn’t want to be home on Christmas morning. They kept me moving until about three. Then I stopped by the shelter to help with some dinner prep.”

Taviano frowned. “You mean after working all day you still had to cook more?”

“Dude! No. It’s, like, a privilege to help out at the shelter. High-keylovedoing that anyway, but today was super fun. I got to hear over and over again about the intruder last night who left a shit-ton of gifts. Your trick totally worked, by the way. The youngest kid there is Cody and when he showed me his new Pokémon ball, he whispered, ‘Santa brought this.’”

“I wish they knew all you did to make that happen,” Taviano said, but Paul shook his head.

“That’s sweet but I don’t need it. I want them to have one nice day before they go back to worrying about shit. Anyway, after I did some shopping, I came back here and went a little Christmas crazy myself. Which you totally missed because you couldn’t get my dick into your mouth fast enough. And by the way, the thing with your fangs? Hell to the yes!”

Taviano swung them upright despite a groan of protest. “Let’s see the Christmas magic then.” Paul had indeed gone all out. Strands of colored lights swooped across the brick walls of the studio. A stuffed bear in a Santa hat nestled next to the little tree, and candles glowed from every free surface. Paul had set the small kitchen table with glasses of red wine and a poinsettia. Taviano realized that the aroma of tomatoes and garlic came from a pot on Paul’s two-burner stove.

“I don’t know if you eat people food or stuff, but I figured, just in case…” Paul blushed as he trailed off.

“That smells wonderful. And yes, I can eat and drink a little. I’d love to taste your cooking.”

Paul tugged up a pair of ripped sweatpants and Taviano put his trousers on again before they sat. The pasta in a marinara sauce was tangy with a touch of sweetness. Taviano could taste the basil, oregano and black pepper Paul had used.

---