Tasting Andrew

Pensacola Beach, Florida.

Rolf leaned comfortably against the fishing pier’s concrete support column in the shadows listening to the thunderous crashing of the nearby waves. The beach was dark and deserted in these few hours after midnight. The perfect setting for his planned rendezvous with Rick. The darkness and the rhythmic roar from the approaching high tide would hide this intended hook-up very well. The cool concrete felt good against Rolf’s muscled back as he scanned up and down the beach to see if his intended playmate was approaching.

A shadow approached and by the pace and swagger, Rolf determined that this was Rick. Earlier that day, Rolf had slipped the quickly scrawled note into Rick’s shorts back pocket that simply said: 1:30 am. Under PB Pier. Will do everything. Of course, Rick’s idea of everything was not exactly what Rolf had planned for the fellow. Rolf had sensed Rick’s attraction for him early on when the handsome cub had joined the “brotherhood”.

Down the beach, Rick was approaching the pier. He scratched his beard as he thought to himself how good it was going to feel to shave off the rather thick scruff and longer hair that he had grown to aid in his ability to blend among the roughneck members of the “brotherhood”.

“I will be so glad to get what I need and be rid of these nasty fuckers,” muttered Rick. These neo-nazis were making everyone’s life miserable, but especially his since he volunteered to infiltrate the ranks of this especially brutal and radical “brotherhood” and see what exactly were their plans. Well, most of them were crazy and nasty, except Rolf. The brothers referred to him simply as “Wolf”. Rolf was different than the others. He was quiet and thoughtful and had this cool, methodical air about him that was dangerous, but also in Rick’s mind—fucking hot. Rick had more than once caught himself staring at Rolf who stood over six-foot tall and had a civilized atmosphere surrounding his lean, but muscular frame and emanated from his piercing almost unnatural blue eyes. His blond hair was cut businesslike which was a striking contrast to wild, unkempt members of the brotherhood. Rolf looked and acted like he should be playing a round of golf and lounging around a pool bar at one of the finer hotels along Pensacola Beach. Instead, Rolf was in the midst of these rough and tumble white supremacists who would rather blow things up or fire off their semi-automatic rifles while slugging back way too much beer. In the just the past few days, Rolf suddenly started to take an interest in Rick and pulling him into a few more serious discussions within the hierarchy of the brotherhood which included their leader, Colton Jefferson, or as the brothers referred to him as “the colt”. The wolf and the colt seemed to be in constant quiet discussions

Finally, after months of hanging out with these guys, Rick was getting some glimpse that the inner leadership was not as disorganized as their general membership and something was being plotted. As the days passed, Rick noticed Rolf choosing to be close to him and signals were becoming apparent that Rolf’s interests in Rick was beyond professional and platonic. A smoldering look from those blue eyes, a pat on Rick’s broad shoulders that lingered just a tad longer, and this afternoon at the bar-b-cue at Colton’s farm just north of I-10, there was that unbelievably tight hug and the slipping of the paper note into Rick’s pocket. That is the note that led Rick down to the beach pier in the middle of the night in hopes of a learning everything and possibly having some fun with the incredibly attractive Wolf. He was hoping to see what makes the wolf howl in pleasure.

Lost in his thoughts, Rick had crossed the beach and entered the darkness under the pier. Rick’s swim trunks were betraying the excitement of this meeting. Rick’s eyes tried to adjust to the darkness when he suddenly felt the familiar pressure of the Rolf’s hand on his shoulder. Spinning around almost instinctively, Rick turned to confront Rolf and peered into the handsome stud’s blue eyes which almost seemed to glow eerily from the reflection from the full moon on the nearby water’s edges.

“Looking for someone?” grinned Rolf with an almost feral sneer on his face.

“Fuck,” snickered Rick relieved to discover Rolf behind him. “I sure am.”

Rolf licked his lips as he examined Rick carefully sizing up this prey. Rick was shorter than Rolf and had a solid stocky build with a chest matted in thick fur tantalizingly exposed by Rick’s unbuttoned boldly patterned Hawaiian shirt. Two eraser stiff nips emerged from the dense fur. His chest was a solid barrel and his muscled arms framed it invitingly. Rolf thought to himself of how much he was going to enjoy taking this man-----the bigger they are, the harder the fuck. Rolf reached out taking Rick big hand and shook it strongly while peering deep into his eyes. Rolf’s other hand massage Rick’s big bicep then creeping it across his chest to the big nip on his left pec.

Rick grinned and thought to himself that what he had sensed about Rolf’s interest in him was confirmed. Rolf leaned forward kissing Rick hard pinning him against the nearest concrete column then targeted those big nips with his mouth.

“Rolf,” gasped Rick trying to remember the true purpose of this meeting. “You..uh…were..going…to share something….with me.” Rolf was work Rick’s nips, sucking and nibbling as suddenly the blonde man slipped his hand into Rick’s swim trunks grasping his hardening dick. “Oh fuck…It can..wait,” muttered Rick as his defenses fell much like his trunks. Rolf shifted his hungry mouth to Rick’s dripping prong and sucked and growled with intensity.

As Rolf worked his cock and balls with his hungry mouth, Rick felt the sudden penetration into his furry butt of Rolf’s finger probing deep and massaging his prostate. Rick’s loud groans and Rolf’s guttural growls were drowned within the sounds of the nearby crashing waves. Rick grabbed Rolf by his blond hair and fed him deeper upon his cock.

“Oh, fuck, buddy,” grunted Rick, “Feel so good, but…oh..man..easy with the teeth.” Rolf suddenly stopped sucking and rose to his feet snarling, his fangs bared. Rick was just fuzzy enough with desire that at first he did not fathom the sharp incisors that Rolf was now threateningly flashing, but his sense of self-preservation and his training kicked in but too slow to prevent Rolf from grabbing him by the throat with inhuman strength that knocked the wind out of him.

Rick gasped for air as his attacker’s grip tightened. Rolf smiled.

“So, boy,” Rolf hissed. “You thought you could just come in and penetrate our ranks without us knowing. Foolish, sloppy boy or should I say Deputy Rick.” Rick was trying to gain control but his mind seemed fractured and confused. When Rolf hissed slowly and emphatically upon the word “penetrate”, Rick’s cock and ass throbbed. But his instincts were telling him to fight or at least get away from this situation. But part of him was in full on lust to have Rolf. Before he could gain his senses, Rolf quickly leaned in and sunk his fangs into Rick’s furry, meaty pec. Rick responded with a scream of half pain and half pleasure. The venom of Rolf’s bites on his cock had lowered Rick’s inhibitions, but this brutal bite on his chest tipped the scale.

Rick gained composure enough to muster enough strength to push Rolf off and he bolted away takings few strides to place distance between himself and his attacker or his lover. His mind was so disjointed. His sensible self roared out commands to his body to run and he turned to do just that, but his feet tangled with something laying across the sand nearby. Rick fell and fell hard face forward into the sand, his body hitting the wet packed sand with a thud that knocked the wind right out of him and the sand painfully met his cock and chest. Rick struggled to gain his footing and also so to see what had precipitated his fall. It was not a what but a who. The naked body of a slim older teen boy lay sprawled upon his back. The lad’s jaw was slack frozen in a powerful moan, his eyes were glazed, lifeless, and a dark stain marred his neck. Rick’s horror and the venom of his attacker worked to slow his responses and he suddenly felt Rolf’s body pounce upon his back.

Rolf landed upon Rick like an attacking lion upon a gazelle pinning his prey to the wet sand. Rolf’s brought one arm around Rick’s neck while his other hand grasped the beefy stud’s ass and positioned Rolf’s eager cock. With a brutal thrust, Rolf penetrated his prey’s ass before he could react and leaned down to growl into Rick’s ear. Rick yelped loudly as he felt Rolf ram deep into him with no hesitation and no mercy.

“I see you have met my dinner date,” snarled Rolf into Rick’s ear as he thrust even deeper and began to fuck. “Waiting on you, Rick, I found myself bored and hungry and he just happened to wander by. He was almost as eager as you.” Rolf charged up his rhythm of fucking the prone Rick who still tried to resist but was failing miserably. Once Rolf was satisfied that Rick was settling into the experience, he flipped the big man upon his back then proceeded to pummel him missionary style as the approaching tidewater eased around Rick’s head. Rolf leaned down and plunged his fangs into Rick’s muscled neck as he whimpered in response and his cock throbbed in Rolf’s hands. Rick attempted to push off his attacker but his arms just wrapped about Rolf’s back and his ass was impaled.

Rolf fucking him felt incredible but Rick’s mind still persisted to regain control over the physical lust that was overwhelming him. His mind wanted to get away, to get away to somewhere safe; to be with someone safe. To be with his buddy, Jason, and not here being fucked by this feral beast. This feral beast was making his body respond in ways that Jason had made him feel. But not this way. No, this was not real. This was not true.

Rolf sucked Rick’s neck hungrily as his cock plowed deeper with every thrust. It wouldn’t be long now. He could feel Rick’s drooling cock rigid in his hand begging for release. Rolf’s other hand massaged the cleft between Rick’s furry pecs.

“Jason, I am so sorry,” Rick moaned as his cock exploded in Rolf’s tight grasp. His body jerked under Rolf’s assault. At the exclamation of Jason’s name, Rolf released his mouth from feeding upon this delicious prey and looked deep into Rick’s thoughts to probe who this “Jason” is.

“Don’t worry, Rick,” sniggered Rolf. “I will take good care of your buddy, Jason.” With those words, Rolf viciously plunged his hand into Rick’s panting chest, grasping his prey’s pounding heart. The shock of the attack slammed Rick’s ass tightly around Rolf’s cock. Rolf howled victoriously as he exploded in the dying police officer’s ass. Rick’s body jerked as life left him violently as Rolf tore out his heart.

The bodies of the unfortunate Deputy Rick and the teenaged hustler would be pulled into the gulf with the retreating tide. Colton would be pleased with Rolf’s handling of this leak in the organization.

Victor’s house.

I looked at the photo of the smiling, uniformed man on Jeremiah’s phone. It was obviously the fellow’s official profile photograph which usually had the officer looking sternly at the camera. He had a slight smile, but it was the man’s eyes that caught my attention. I had seen those bright, smiling eyes filled with confidence many times in my long lifetime. This was a good man who loved life deeply.

“Rick Dupree,” explained Jeremiah sitting close to me peering over my shoulder as I viewed the photo on his phone. “A deputy with the Escambia County Sheriff’s Department.”

“Mr. Dupree is quite handsome, Jeremiah,” I responded in jest, not completely sure of where this conversation was heading. “You always have good taste in lovers, my friend.” I noticed Joe’s discarded clothing spread across the living room and snickered and was greeted with a rumbling snore from the nearby bedroom.

“I don’t know him,” explained Jeremiah seriously. “I do know that he is dead.”

I looked into Jeremiah’s eyes expecting some kind of “gotcha” response, but the deep concern of my friend’s entire countenance underlined the serious of our impending discussion.

“His body washed up on Pensacola Beach about a week ago,” explained Jeremiah with his usual playfulness drained. “The wounds indicate a vampire attack.”

“It happens,” I tried to play off the gravity of the news that Jeremiah had just laid at my feet. “Occasionally, one of us gets carried away and careless or….”

“No. Not this one,” disagreed Jeremiah.

My mind was swirling. Almost eighty years had peacefully passed among those of us since the truce between the vampire and the slayers. We could exist without killing and take what we needed to survive. It was a lesson hard learned during the chaos and death of the Second World War. So close had the world come to be plunged into darkness during those days.

“When was the last time you killed?” calmly asked Jeremiah as he pulled my face to meet his. He could see the sadness in my eyes.

“Carl,” I replied sorrowfully.

“Carl does not count,” assured Jeremiah. “He was your best friend, your colleague, and your lover occasionally. He was dying. He came to you to ask what only his closest friend could provide for him.”

My mind thought of my friend fondly. Carl was such a light in my life and for everyone around him. The diagnosis of early on-set dementia crushed him.

“No, Jeremiah,” I agreed. “You are right. To answer your question, I have not killed since the war. So, then what?” I glanced back to the photo on Jeremiah’s phone.

“His heart had been ripped out,” Jeremiah added.

Those words chilled my old soul and dark memories and emotions came flooding into my mind.

“Ivan,” I muttered. Jeremiah shook his head negatively.

“Ivan is dead,” Jeremiah remarked, knowing full well of the incredible pain that was coursing through me. “You were there when we took him and his followers down in Berlin. Truth be told, Victor, I imagine that Ivan was the last person who you killed.”

“He killed my Andrei,” I responded as the pain ripped through as I remembered finding the body of my beloved Andrei brutally attacked in his studio. I cradled his lifeless body and peered into his eyes that had been so full of life. Eyes that were so much like those gleaming at me from the photo of Rick Dupree.

“Ivan is dead, but he had admirers,” added Jeremiah. “Those who believed as he did and craved the chaos and bloodletting.”

“It has been almost eighty years ago,” I argued.

“What is eighty years to our kind,” reminded Jeremiah.

“But why now?” I retorted still trying to escape from the certainty of this sobering news from my old mentor.

“Look around at the times, Victor,”coaxed Jeremiah. “The entire atmosphere is charged and now those who can benefit from these emerging conflicts are feeling emboldened to act.”

I still clung to my original thought that this was some kind of accident and just this one single incident. Jeremiah sensed my reluctance to absorb the gravity of the situation.

“There have been nine over the past two months across the south and east coast,” he countered. “These are not just random attacks, but have the feel of executions.” Jeremiah swiped his finger across his phone and a photo mosaic of “victims” was displayed including Officer Dupree. The victims included women. The realization struck me finally that this was not some frustrated vampire that had let his nature overwhelm him. These were intentional and as Jeremiah stated, these were deliberate executions.

“What are the slayers on the council thinking about this?” I inquired as the potential fallout of this rash of killings hit me.

“All members of the council are concerned,” Jeremiah replied. “A few slayers have been rather outspoken in their thoughts that this proves that the truce is failing. But the cooler heads are those who are very concerned that this might be the beginnings of something more sinister and this needs to be taken very seriously and any and all intelligence needs to be collected to assess exactly what we all may be facing. Thoughts are that someone wants your truce to fail.”

Jeremiah emphasized the word “your” to clearly convey that despite my quiet seclusion for the past decades, this matter truly was of my concern. I had been the one to convene the talks between the slayers and the vampires that led to the truce in Paris at the close of the Second World War. Jeremiah had even nicknamed me “Cordell” in reference to Secretary of State Cordell Hull who was attempting to create the United Nations during the same time. Formerly known as the Parisian Truce, it was informally known as Victor’s Truce.

“I thought you should know about this,” explained Jeremiah gently rubbing my tensed shoulders. “If you see or hear anything, then immediately text me, call me, or send up a flare. If the target is to destroy the truce, then you might be in their crosshairs also. I don’t want to lose you, me dear friend.” Jeremiah hugged me tightly. Despite the somber news that he had delivered, I was very glad to see my friend.

“Oh SHIT!” came a panicked exclamation from the guest bedroom. “It’s fucking 8:30 in the morning!” Joe bolted completely nude into the living room frantically collecting his clothes and attempting to get dressed.

“Hey, dudes, this was fucking hot,” Joe blurted as he pulled on his shorts and then pulled on his tshirt inside out. “Hope we can do this again, but I am late for my class.” He shook my hand quickly. “so nice to meet, Victor.” Then hugging Jeremiah tightly. “You are the best, Jeremiah. But I gotta go.” And in a flurry of panic, Joe vanished out the door and sprinted towards campus.

“Ah, the exuberance and energy of youth,” roared Jeremiah laughing deeply. The sinister and threatening mood had vanished much like our playmate.