By Va Wilcox
Time: 1856
Place: San Francisco
Julian Luna walks into the bar and heads for the table
in the corner,
just as he has every night for nearly a month. Before
he can even slump
into his chair, a man comes from behind the bar with
a bottle of whiskey
and a glass in his hands. He sits the glass down, pours
a shot and
slides it across the table to Julian. "Compliments of
the house," he
says without ceremony, walking back behind the bar. He
nonchalantly nods
to the couple at the bar's far end.
The couple, unbeknownst to Julian or most of the bar's
patrons, is
Kindred - Archon Raine, the prince of San Francisco,
and his childe
Morgaine. Archon stands stiffly, his arms crossed on
his chest. Morgaine
sits on a high chair next to him.
"So, what do we know of our friend there?" Archon asks,
knowing that his
daughter has been engaging the man in conversation for
several weeks.
"His name is Julian Luna," she begins, "and he wants to die."
Flashback to a week before ....
Morgaine watches as the handsome dark-haired man comes
across the room,
ignoring those around him and moving to his table. She
had made sure the
bartender had kept the table open. She had watches as
he had done this
for 20 nights, each night the same ritual. He sits by
himself, shooing
off the saloon girls or anyone else who passes by. On
a few occasions,
there had been an altercation; two nights ago, he had
nearly killed a
man who had told him "go home to your wife."
But, for the most part, Julian Luna sits alone, drinking
from a bottle
of whiskey until it is empty. Then he staggers out into
the darkness.
On this night, she joins him.
"May I sit down?" It is a rhetorical question. She pulls
out a chair and
sits down within inches of his seat, ignoring his "I
don't want any
company."
"I says ..." he starts, but she interrupts. "I know ...
Mr. Luna, isn't
it? You *need* the company."
"Do whatever you want," he mutters. "It doesn't really
matter if you're
here or not." And he returns to his drinking. And she
sits, saying very
little, just observing for a time.
"Why do you want to die?" she asks, resting her chin atop
interlaced
fingers.
"What?" He is startled by the question, confused by the
woman who seemed
content to watch him.
"You want to die, Mr. Luna." It is a statement of fact,
one that Julian
couldn't argue with. "Or else you wouldn't be here night
after night,
drinking that stuff."
"Maybe I do," he counters with surliness. "It's none of your business."
"Oh, it is," she whispers to herself, "especially if we
have other plans
for you." Faster than his eyes could follow, Morgaine
clasps his hand,
squeezing hard. The shot glass crushes under the weight
as Julian barely
winces, the pain dulled dramatically by the whiskey.
She pulls back, opening his hand and letting the shards
of glass clatter
to the table. Julian looks down, entranced by the rivulet
of crimson
flowing across his palm's line of life. The look changes
to fascination
as the raven-haired woman bends down and brings his hand
to her lips;
slowly, she licks the last traces of blood away, never
once breaking her
gaze from his eyes. She lifts her head and moves her
hand to his
forehead, brushing away the unruly mane from his skin.
"Go home, Mr. Luna, and sleep." With that, she rises and
walks away,
leaving Julian Luna in a dazed state. A few minutes later,
he recovers
his senses and left the bar.
On that night, Morgaine sends Daedalus out after him and
discovers his
secrets.
Time: 1856
Place: San Francisco
Back to the present
Morgaine touches her lips at the thought of Julian's
blood, which is
still intoxicating her veins. Archon's condescending
voice brings her
back to reality. "That much is obvious, Morgaine. He's
poisoning his
blood with *that* stuff. Would he be good for the Ventrue?"
Looking up at the prince, his Celtic childe sees that
the elder Ventrue
already has the answer to his question. He desires Julian
Luna as much
as she does, perhaps more. What he needs is the justification
for taking
him, something that would make his case to the mortal
for being
embraced.
"He is from New Orleans and well-educated. His mother
is French, his
father Italian." she responds, matter of factly. "He
came here for the
gold, dragging a young wife along. Like so many, she
died giving him an
heir." She nearly spits out the last sentence with contemptuous
anger.
Archon smiles, amused at his childe's anachronistic feminism.
[Someday,
childe, your temper will be valued by society.] The thought
is shared
between them only. Aloud, he says, "And the child?"
"A son, John, given to the nuns to raise. You see him.
He's in no shape
to deal with a child." Her anger evolves into seriousness.
"He thinks
death will release him from his pain. He thinks death
is the end."
"Then perhaps we should enlighten him," Archon says, uncrossing
his arms
and turning to face Morgaine. "Move him upstairs tonight."
"Then you mean to embrace him?" she asks eagerly.
"If he chooses. I see potential in this one, a true asset
to the
Ventrue, if we can harness his rage, his anger," he answers.
"But it
must be his choice."
"I understand, my lord," she says, slipping off the chair.
She takes
Archon's hand and brings it to her lips, kissing the
large silver ring
in a manner that is as sensual as it is respectful. "I
will bring him to
you."
Morgaine moves swiftly to Julian's table, not asking this
time to sit
but simply pulling up a chair. "Good evening, Mr. Luna."
"You back for more blood, Miss … you know, I don't even
know your name,"
he says flatly, looking up from his drink.
Morgaine smiles. "Ah, I see your mind isn't as clouded
by the whiskey as
one might think. You remember our encounter." She leans
in closer,
touching his injured hand, opening it to inspect the
damage the glass
had made. "None of the cuts were deep, thankfully. And
the name is
Morgaine."
"It's healing," he says, relaxing against the caress of
her fingertips.
"That feels … nice."
"It can feel a lot nicer, Julian," she purrs, uncharacteristically
using
his first name. "I think you have had enough of this."
She pulls the
nearly empty bottle away, and stares directly into his
eyes. "Julian,
why don't you let me take you upstairs? You can sleep
it off there. No
need to go back to your cabin."
"Enough. Sleep. Not go home." He echoes her words hollowly,
slowing
falling under her mesmerizing gaze. "Yes, take me upstairs."
"Come with me," she continued with a low, almost hypnotic
quality, a
wicked grin settling on her lips. "Let me give you something
better than
this stuff."
He follows, not sure why but knowing that he wants whatever
the
dark-haired beauty has to offer. Several men turn and
stare, envious of
the miner; Morgaine rarely leaves the main bar area with
anyone.
Time: 1856
Place: San Francisco
They walk through a curtain and up a flight of back stairs.
'What am I
getting into?" Julian asks just under his breath. Morgaine
smiles.
"Nothing that you don't want to," she responds. He jumps
slightly, not
realizing that she had heard. At the end of a long hallway,
a double
door stands open. They walk into the dimly lit room,
made darker by the
heavy velvet curtains that are drawn across the windows.
She pulls him
by the hand to stand on the rug by the side of the bed.
Morgaine turns and kisses Julian, pressing her mouth hard
against his,
breaching his lips with her tongue. At the same time,
her hands move
down his shirt, quickly undoing the buttons and pulling
it apart.
Without giving him time to respond, she undoes his pants
and pushes him
back on the bed.
Julian is still feeling the affects of too much whiskey,
and he doesn't
really want to put up a fight. It has been months since
he has been with
a woman ... long before Evelyn had given birth ... too
long. He is alert
enough, however, to sit up. He removes his clothes and
dropped them on
the floor.
Morgaine undresses ... slowly ... as much for Julian as
for the Kindred
she knows is standing in the shadows. [Very good, my
childe] Archon's
thoughts pervade her mind, coming through the blood bond
as loudly as if
he had spoken them across the room. [Indulge his needs.
It will make him
more receptive to our offer.]
Undoing the ribbons at her shoulders, Morgaine lets the
dress fall to
the floor around her feet. She stands in a silky white
chemise and
nothing else. Julian smiles lustily at the sight, the
breasts erect
against the silk, the curve of the hips, the small triangle
of dark hair
at her groin. "Come here," he says, sitting on the bed's
edge, his
arousal growing.
She pulls the chemise up and over her head, dropping it
behind her, and
steps toward him, her face awash in a feral grin. Parting
his legs with
her knee, she stands between them. "Hmmm, so hard already,
my love," she
teases.
Julian reaches up, clutching her waist and pulling her
toward him,
falling backward onto the bed. He rolls her over, straddling
her against
the bed. She lets him, willing herself to not use her
Kindred strength
to overcome him. She growls softly, a sound his mortals
ears pick up as
purring.
He leans forward to kiss her, his rigid cock brushing
against her belly.
He doesn't seem to notice the coldness of her skin as
he drops his full
weight against her; he is burning with too much desire
to care.
Morgaine, too, is awash in desire. It has been a long
time since she has
felt a mortal man inside her, the warmth of his seed
filling her body.
"Julian, take me," she moans. [Goddess, let him want
the Embrace. His
touch is so intoxicating.] The passion floods back along
the link with
Archon, a unique side effect of the blood bond they share.
[Archon, my
lord ...]
Reaching a hand backward down her body, Julian slips two
fingers between
Morgaine's legs, finding an inviting wetness. "Ahhh,
yes ... Julian."
She arches her back against his hand, pushing herself
up onto his
fingers. Archon sighs in the darkness, taking a guiltless
pleasure in
watching his daughter work her magic on the mortal. They
had conspired
to bring Julian Luna to this point, both wanting to Embrace
him, bring
him into the Ventrue fold.
Morgaine's hands move first to her own breasts, caressing
them as Julian
splatters kisses along her neck and shoulders. Then,
as his lips find
their way to her nipples, she moves her attentions to
his cock,
stretching her hand to wrap her long fingers around its
fullness,
stroking it slowly.
Julian works his fingers in and out of Morgaine's vagina,
rubbing the
clitoris between thumb and forefinger for minutes, relishing
in the
control he had over the woman beneath him, savoring her
responsiveness.
His wife had never been that way; Evelyn Luna had seen
sex as a
necessary evil of marriage. Julian Luna is passionate,
filled with
desires he doesn't quite comprehend; only his Catholic
upbringing had
kept him faithful while his wife lived, and his guilt
that Evelyn had
died giving him a son kept him from the arms of others
after her death.
But here is a woman who is yielding every inch of her
body to him. It
brings forth a passion from him, a rage long suppressed.
Julian pulls off of Morgaine for a moment and repositions
his body,
spreading her legs and pushing her knees up toward her
chest. With
little ceremony, he pushes his cock inside her, in a
brutal single
movement. Her whole body jerks. A mortal woman would
have cried in pain
at the sensation, but Morgaine merely gasps, takes a
deep breath and
pushes her hips downward to meet the burgeoning cock.
Again, Julian Luna is surprised. There are no cries, no
pleading to go
slowly, no protestations at all. The rush of adrenaline
through his body
powers the rage-filled passion; he braces his hands on
either side of
Morgaine's torso, locking his upper body against her
legs and fucks her
furiously. Morgaine's fingers claw at the bedcovers,
willing her body to
hold steady against Julian's increased pushing.
[Yes, Julian, let out your rage. Show me your passion.]
Morgaine smiles
inwardly, knowing she and her sire had made an excellent
choice. She
feels her body shudder, the warmth flowing upward from
inside her. Had
Julian been paying attention, he would have seen her
eyes take on a
silvery hue. She bites her lip, tonguing the tiny droplets
of blood,
fighting against the bloodlust that is riding the crest
of her orgasm.
Julian pumps harder, plunging his cock as deep inside
her as he can with
each new thrust. A moment later, he cries out .... "yesss,
that's it"
..... and he comes. He pulls out, the last of his cum
trailing across her
belly as he drops to the bed beside her, more satisfied
than he had ever
been in his 26 years of life. He is exhausted.
Morgaine sits up, leaning on her elbow over him and bent
down, licking
his cock clean of its juices. Julian's body pulls back
slightly at the
touch of her tongue licking the length of his shaft.
"Ohhhh, Morgaine
.... what a beautiful name ... what a wonderful woman,"
he moans, then
adding with a chuckle ... "I could die now and be in
bliss."
"Oh, don't die yet, Julian," Morgaine laughs, drawing
her tongue up the
length of his body. "There's so much more to experience."
Archon takes his cue and steps from the shadows. 'We can
offer you
something other than death, Julian Luna," says the tall,
imposing man,
"something on the other side of death." Archon wears
loose-fitting
breeches and a poet's shirt.
Julian sits up, startled by the other voice in the room,
pushing
Morgaine to one side. "What? Who are you?' Julian's mind
is reeling ...
from the alcohol he had been ingesting day after day
... from the
incredible fucking he had just experienced ... he had
wanted to settle
in with this woman, rest and do it again. He definitely
isn't prepared
to deal with this stranger.
Morgaine moves behind Julian, stroking the mortal's back.
"Life like you
never imagined," she whispers into his ear. "This kind
of passion every
day." She kisses his neck, drawing her tongue along the
jugular vein in
anticipation.
Archon cut her a glaring stare. "Morgaine, if you please,
let him make
the decision on his own," he says. It is more than a
statement, less
than an order. "Leave us alone now."
"When next we meet, my love, you will be Kindred," she
whispers to
Julian. Morgaine nods and moves off the bed to stand,
naked, in front of
her sire. She sweeps her hair to one side, making sure
Julian can see
her face. Taking Archon's hand, she bows deeply, touching
her forehead
to it. "My prince." She kisses the knuckles. "My sire."
And lightly
sucks on the fingertips. "My lord … whatever you desire."
Julian runs his tongue along his lips, the heat swelling
in his groin at
the sensuality of the act. His arousal is not lost on
Archon, who
responds to Morgaine by pulling her face upward for a
brief kiss. [You
are temptress incarnate, my childe. Even in exiting,
you excite the
mortal.]
Morgaine pulls reluctantly from the kiss, smiles and walks
for the door
connecting to the suite's other rooms.
Archon waits a beat, letting Julian savor the moment,
then walks to the
bed, pulling Julian to his feet. "I supposed I should
explain to you
what we are," he begins, surveying the mortal's body,
noting with
delight the hardening cock. "We are Kindred, Ventrue
clan specifically …
but you can learn about that after your Embrasure. For
now, you need to
know that we are essentially immortal, an ancient race
set apart from
man at the dawn of time. We are proof that death is not
the end."
Julian shifts uneasily under the prince's gaze, like a
schoolboy brought
before the headmaster, somewhat embarrassed at his nudity.
"So that's
what …," he pauses, reaching for the name.
"Morgaine," Archon offers, bemusedly. [You have clouded
his mind, my
dear.]
"Yeah, Morgaine," he continues, starting to move to where
she had
discarded his clothes. "That's what she meant by life
as I never
imagined." [I could have her every night. That's the
life.]
Archon stops Julian with a strong hand on his wrist. "You
don't need
those," he says, lowering his voice just to the hypnotic
level. "Not if
you wish to be Embraced."
Julian shakes his head slightly, encountering a familiar
feeling of not
wanting to do what he thought he wanted to do. He shrugs
it off and
turns back to Archon. "Embrace? What does that involve?"
"I drain the blood from your body and replace it with
mine," Archon says
bluntly. "It can be a quite pleasurable experience."
[And painful. But
quite pleasurable, I think, for me.]
Julian likes the pleasure idea, but isn't keen on it being
with Archon.
"Why you? Why not Morgaine?" he asks, a definite leer
on his face. "I
can imagine it'd be really pleasurable with her."
Time: 1856
Place: San Francisco
[You have truly bewitched him, Morgaine. Well, that will
change soon
enough.] "I want you," Archon hisses. The elder Kindred
can smell the
young man's fear … and arousal. "Don't deny it, Luna,
the thought
intrigues you." Archon grabs Julian by the shoulders
and pushes him back
against the wall, claiming what is his. Archon kisses
him, roughly,
biting Julian's lip and sucking on the blood, forcing
his tongue between
Julian's lips to flick against his tongue.
"No," Julian starts before Archon's mouth can stop the
protestations.
His tongue flutters against the intrusion. [I can't want
this. Not with
a man.] He writhes under Archon's touch, but the older
man simply
responds by pinning Julian's arms against the wall at
his sides.
Archon can feel the mortal's hardening erection against
his thigh. [Your
body betrays you, Luna. You do want this.] He loosens
his breeches,
letting them fall to the floor.
Julian feels the arousal, too, even moreso as Archon's
hands shackle
him. He unconsciously pushes his hips forward to grind
against Archon's
groin.
The Ventrue prince steps back, his hands still locked
on Julian's
wrists, his own cock now hard with desire.
"Suck it!" Archon orders, pushing Julian to the floor.
"What? No." Julian sinks to the floor under the weight
of Archon's
strength, feeling enraged and exhilarated. "I don't know
what you want,
but I'm no …"
Before he can continue, Archon pushes his cock into Julian's
open mouth.
"Do anything other than sucking and you die instantly,"
follows a cold
voice of authority.
Julian sucks, at first repulsed and horrified. [I can't
be doing this to
another man. I'm not like this.] Archon tastes of herbs,
but not salt
and sweat like Julian would expect from another mortal.
There is no
warmth to the member sliding down his throat. He lets
his tongue slip
along the underside of the cock. He gags as the cockhead
touches the
back of his throat.
"Relax your throat, Luna," Archon commands, releasing
his grip on
Julian's hands and grabbing hold of Julian's hair, holding
him steady.
"Swallow."
Julian fights his gag reflex, trying to swallow. His hands
finally
freed, he wants to claw at the man holding him down,
but finds he can't.
His passion is raging, taking control of his reasoning.
[Is this what
she meant? Endless nights of this? I can't.] He fights
back the tears
and swallows.
"Good," the Kindred laughs and withdraws. "I think we're ready."
Julian slumps against the wall, his body nearly numb with
mixed
emotions. "Ready for what?" he hoarsely expels.
"To embrace you," Archon says calmly. He leans down and
takes Julian by
the arms, pulling him to his feet as if he were a child.
He deposits the
mortal on the bed, facedown, head against the pillows.
Julian is too
wracked with passion and fear and anticipation to care.
His mind is
elsewhere.
With little concern for his soon-to-be childe's welfare,
Archon roughly
pulls Julian up on his knees, spreading his legs to give
him better
access to the mortal ass. He places the tip of his cock,
slackened with
his precum, at the entrance. He doesn't stop, but shoves
his full length
in with a single thrust.
Julian screams, the pain in his voice filling the room,
his body
lurching forward on the bed. Archon grabs him at the
waist to keep him
steady.
Archon forces himself into Julian's body, feeding on the
pain and
howling and convulsions of the mortal's body. He pulls
almost all the
way out and shoves back in again, repeating the motion
until he senses
Julian loosening. Then he invades with a slow, steady
rhythm, savoring
each new pain he is causing.
Julian clutches the pillow, the linens, trying in vain
to get himself
away from the pain. He seeks solace in images of Morgaine,
the temptress
in his mind's eye. But they are washed away by a downpour
of pain … and
arousal. Much to his dismay, and fear, Julian's cock
steadily grows
harder at the pounding against his ass. [NO! I can't
want this.]
Archon moves his right hand down to Julian's groin and
begins to stroke
the young man's cock, pulling the orgasm out of his forced
lover. Julian
shudders, unwillingly releasing himself. "Yesss," he
lets slips out.
Archon smiles and speeds up. Julian, a little more consciously
than
before, pushes backward to meet the hard thrusts. Both
are turned on by
the other, one in spite of himself. Archon fucks him
harder, nearly too
hard. At the moment of orgasm, he pulls Julian back and
to his body,
biting hard along the jugular vein and drinking deeply,
sucking every
last drop of the crimson lifeforce from the mortal's
body.
[Blood and semen and death make for ultimate Kindred sex.]
Archon muses.
[You'll learn that some day, Luna.] "Luna, listen to
me. Do you want
this? Do you want to be Kindred?"
Julian claws at the headboard as the intense sensations
of being fucked
by another man pulse through him. He feels his life slipping
away.
"Yes," he whispers. "Make me like you." For a flickering
moment, the
world around him freezes, and in the haze of pain, the
obscenity becomes
pleasure and his world goes dark.
Archon withdraws from both Julian's ass and his veins,
awash in the
mortal's blood. He turns him over, cradling him in a
pool of blood and
semen collecting against the white sheets. With the fingernail
of his
thumb, he cuts a deep gash in his wrist and holds it
over Julian's
mouth, letting the blood drop slowly onto his lips.
Julian responds, sticking out his tongue to capture the
precious liquid.
A few moments later, he slowly raises his hand and pulls
Archon's wrist
to his mouth, gnawing at the flesh to gain deeper access
to his new
sire's blood.
"Drink, Luna," Archon winces, reveling in the first ecstasy
between sire
and fledgling. "You are Kindred now, the childe of the
Prince. And you
are mine forever."