Tasting Andrew

Victor’s Home

I awoke from a very deep sleep to the anguished screams filled with pain and terror. I bolted upright in my bed and found myself tangled in the sheets. My intense encounters in the past twenty-four hours with Jeremiah and his young buddy and then later with DJ had left me satisfied and relaxed with me feeling that all was returning to its normal pattern which was my current existence. I slumbered as if with the sleep of the angels. That was until my peace was shattered by the cries of someone in terror and pain mixed with a tinge of pleasure.

As I settled into my senses, I took in the surroundings of my bedroom to regain my focus. The source of the screams must have been from a very intense dream since there was no one in the room. The clock on the mantle alerted me that it was still in the middle of the night. I closed my eyes and tried to remember exactly what had awakened me. The sound had been so realistic. My mind’s eye could only catch glimpses of the man screaming as he was being raped by another man. Concentrating further, the clarity of the young man being attacked shook my very soul. Andrew. He had been screaming my name, but I was not the attacker. But the final image that I could force from my memory was of the attacker brutally biting Andrew’s neck as he fucked him viciously as the attacker’s hand viciously clawed Andrew’s chest.

My instinctive reaction to this image and sound that had felt so real in my sleeping mind was not to join into the attack on this fascinating young man, but to leap into the fray to protect, to safe him. Maybe my initial reaction to send Andrew upon his way was not because I feared for him, but I had feared for myself. I could not love and lose my heart again. I had created a safe existence with a handful of safe playmates who offered me all of the pleasure of being with someone but without all the messy entanglements.

What was the adjective that Jeremiah had often repeated during our conversation into the night after sharing my bed with me and Joe----ah yes, “comfortable”. What Jeremiah was really insinuating was that I had become complacent. I just wanted a peaceful existence and at least I thought I had earned that by brokering the truce between the vampires and the hunters as the world emerged from the chaos of the Second World War. I had played the role of the hero and it ended well, but the heroic was not a mantle that I comfortably wanted to wear any time during these past thousand years.

The nightmarish dream that had awakened me was more than just my mind imprinting the memory of Andrei’s murder at the hands of that psychotic butcher Ivan. A foreboding sense of an approaching present danger in the darkest form was lingering in my mind. What if my path had crossed with Andrew’s journey for a reason? Was I supposed to be his lover? His mentor? His protector? Or possibly a combination of all three? Was the universe providing a cosmic “do-over” for me with this boy since I had failed my Andrei so disastrously nearly a hundred years ago. My desire to preserve the status quo of my existence as a bland college history professor was being pushed aside by the stronger emotions to take action, particularly regarding Andrew.

The other thing that Jeremiah said slipped into my thought process----“Victor, when was the last time you killed?” It was Carl.

My memory shifted to a much headier time as the sexual revolution was at its height and I had taken on the persona of a hip grad student. By wearing my hair long and being clean shaven, I easily was transformed into an idealistic young man, ready to set the world and academia on its head.

Carl and I met at some loud off-campus party where disco and pop songs were blaring and the alcohol and several illicit drugs were flowing among the writhing bodies clad in the outlandish polyester. Carl was singing along with a Carly Simon song and looking right in my direction---You’re so vain. You probably think this song is about you, don’t you, don’t you. I instantly took a liking to this fiery African-American lad dressed in tight bell-bottom trousers and a wildly patterned silk shirt open to his navel exposing his delicious looking skin colored as coffee that had received just a dash of cream. What was initially a physical attraction led immediately to an intellectual one as Carl and I slipped from the party finding a quiet spot and enjoyed each other’s company until dawn.

“We are going to be teachers, man,” Carl strongly announced as we sat on the steps of the library overlooking the campus. “We have the power to shape minds and make the world a better place. We can make change.” His enthusiasm and passion for life and his chosen profession was infectious. I had served in many professions over my long lifetime, but I always seemed to gravitate to teaching. Carl made me realize that teaching was my true calling.

Carl and I became fast friends and occasionally playmates, and most importantly academic colleagues supporting each other through our professional careers. He knew my secret and he was more fascinated by the history that I had experienced than my identity as a blood-sucking creature capable of taking life. Through three decades, we stayed in each other’s lives as our schedules allowed. Then one day, Carl called and shared with me his diagnosis of early onset dementia. I had noticed that the last few times that we had chatted on the phone, Carl seemed to be slower and his thoughts scattered in such contrast to his intensity and quick wit that was his specialty in commanding the most enjoyable of our intellectual conversations and debates. Carl asked me to come and do him on last favor as his friend---to take his life. My heart was breaking.

I arrived at his house early on a September morning with an impeccable bright blue sky. He greeted me in a white robe that still exposed his body which despite the passage of time was still extremely attractive and powerful. He looked so healthy, at least physically. But the disease would eventually take its physical toll upon Carl as Alzheimer’s tended to do. It was the loss of his sharp mind and his fantastic memories and then eventually the ending of his profession that he so loved that was truly killing my friend. We hugged and chatted and then hugged some more. Carl suddenly stopped and grasping my face in his hands looked into my eyes and calmly spoke, “Vic, I am ready, old friend.” He took my hand and led me to bedroom.

He undressed me, kissing me gently and knowing exactly what areas of my body to service to arouse me in the state that he needed me to be in to do what he wanted me to do. I had shared with him several tales of how I had taken prey to finality and obviously he had recalled some of the details. His mouth was all over my body and the experience was soliciting a mutual response from his body as I saw his cock harden resulting from the intense passion igniting within me. We tumbled into the bed and his mouth sucked and nibbled my cock and balls as I explored his body as we lay in a tangled sixty-nine. I bit the soft inner part of his muscular thigh and took the first taste of many to accomplish our mutually desired goal. Carl growled as he felt my fangs strike his thigh and he sucked hungrily on my dick as if to urge me on. We made out for what felt like a pleasant eternity. I bit his nips, his wrists, and his shoulder taking more and more slowly of his life.

“I want to be inside you,” Carl demanded as he rolled me on my back and kissed my bloodstained lips. I knew we were fast approaching the destination that he so desired. Before I could react, I felt his rigid member slide deep into me with a desperate thrust. I groaned out in pleasure as Carl began thrusting with what strength he had deeper into me and wrapped his arms around me. Carl pounded me as if he was releasing all of his frustrations of what fate that the Universe had delivered to him. He wanted to make this choice on how to exit from his life. I could sense his orgasm was fast approaching as our grunts and groans match the intensity of Carl’s thrusting. I looked in his eyes and Carl nodded and smiled. “Thank you, my friend.” He offered his neck to me as I could feel his dick throb into my ass and pressed my mouth to his artery. I released the control of the beast within me and delivered a fatal bite as my fangs dug deep into my friend’s neck and held him tight, drinking deep. My cock exploded against his chest as I held him close feeding intensely until his heart slowed then ceased beating. I held him tight and sobbed. I glanced at the nearby night stand and saw the open bottle of painkillers that had been emptied and arranged to provide the assumed cause of my trusted friend’s demise. The innate power of my vampiric saliva had healed the wounds that I had inflicted upon his brown skin.

I laid Carl in his bed and positioned him in a peaceful demeanor. His eyes were closed and gentle smile was upon his face. As I regained my composure, I could hear the music playing from the nearby cd player. “I had some dreams, they were clouds in my coffee, clouds in my coffee. You’re so vain.”

I leaned down and kissed Carl on the forehead and whispered “Rest well, Carl. Hope we can see each other someday soon on the other side.”

I walked out of Carl’s bedroom and into his living room in which the television was still on. But instead of the usual mindless gameshows or talking heads that populated morning television programming, my gaze landed upon the horrifying scene of one of the twin towers of the World Trade Center crashing to the streets of Manhattan. Tears streamed down my face as the emotions of my immediate circumstances and those which were unfolding upon the screen pummeled my soul. So much death. So much grief. I walked out of Carl’s house and gazed up at the empty azure sky of that September day and spoke defiantly to the empty heavens. “Is this all there is to life---this constant chaos?”

For the past twenty years since, the death of my friend and the heinous terrorist attacks seemed to have set the tone for my isolation. Something changed that day way beyond the loss of my friend and colleague. A storm was building and I just wanted to bury myself in my work and avoid the impending conflict. I brushed off this feeling with the simple realization that there have always been war or rumor of war.

Andrei, James, and even Carl—their lives, our shared experiences, and their deaths were pointing me toward something. I had thought that my reaction to this intriguing young man, Andrew, was that I feared that I would destroy him, but the reality might be that he is what saves me from this self-exile to face the impending threats of which were always with us. Currently, as indicated from this strong dream, something was poised to threaten Andrew and the Universe was kicking me in the butt.

I needed to see Andrew. I had a feeling he needed to see me also. Whether we liked it or not, the universe had put a plan into motion and we needed to follow it to its conclusion. I was hoping for a Hallmark Movie ending in which all lived happily ever after, but my heightened senses were alerting me of a much more troublesome and possibly tragedy filled plotline. I chuckled to myself with thought that I was needing to dust off my cape and assume the role that obviously the Universe was demanding that I play.

I burrowed under the covers of my bed as I felt sleep creeping back upon me. My mind seemed to calm in response to my choice to see Andrew again. Now I just had to figure out how, but something convinced me that this would not be that difficult of a task.