Kinktober Day 16: Vampire (kbdn)

((Sorry this is late, I was out late last night and have been Very Sleepy all day. Hope you enjoy!))

Leon should never have sent Raihan down to that place.

That miserable, ghastly hole in the ground, black as night even in the middle of the day, that seemed to swallow every torch that crossed its threshold. He should have known better. Should have come up with some other plan. But how could he have known? After all, it was a king’s duty to protect the people, even when they came to him with a crazed glint in their eyes, telling tales of a beast from the black grave that rose in the night and consumed their cattle, their dogs, and more recently, their elderly and infirm. It didn’t take a strategic genius to reason out that soon, whatever it was would escalate its killing further, taking more and more lives.

It was Leon’s duty to do something about it, and when he gave the order for the beast to be eradicated, it was his knight’s duty to obey.

Raihan hadn’t even questioned the order, merely picked up his helmet and sword, and having it dipped in holy water as the legends decreed it must before he made his descent into that long, terrible darkness. He had gone down, and returned that evening, his eyes hollow and face drawn taut, the creature’s withered head dangling by greasy, thin strands of hair from his clenched fist. The beast was slain, and Leon’s sigh of relief could have been directed at that fact. Raihan had lived, the creature had died, and both their duties were upheld.

It didn’t take long to note the changes that came over Sir Raihan; even members of the court who barely knew him remarked that the knight who had been once famed for his conviviality and friendliness was now a stoic and silent man, standing in shadows and avoiding any gazes that wandered his way. For as long as he had known him—nearly their entire lives, at this point—Leon had never known Raihan to behave this way. Even at his worst, lowest points, Raihan had always been willing to speak about what was on his mind, but now he treated Leon with a polite detachment that kept his king and closest confidante at arm’s length. Leon knew he did not eat. Leon knew he barely slept. Whatever had happened to him down there, it was as though it had sucked the very marrow from his bones, and taken with it the essence of the man himself, leaving only a starving shadow behind.

And now this.

Rain was busy beating itself against the windows of the castle as Leon sat in his chambers, reading over documents that pertained to the kingdom’s fiscal year. Finances gave him headaches, and yet he’d always insisted on reviewing them himself, sometimes spending painstaking hours checking each of the figures with his own mathematics, wanting to be sure each expense and intake was accounted for. The hour was late, and his candle was already burning low, but still he sat and worked, great shoulders bent as he read over the tiny figures printed below.

The door creaked open and Leon did a double-take when he saw Raihan standing there, swaying on his feet in a way that had Leon worrying that he was wickedly drunk, until Raihan’s eyes snapped towards him with a terrible clarity behind them. There was something wrong with his eyes, too, something Leon couldn’t place—

“Your Majesty…I have a matter to discuss with you of the utmost importance…” Raihan’s voice was rusty with disuse, as though he hadn’t spoken to anyone in days. Perhaps he hadn’t; Leon had assumed that his silence had been out of resentment for his king ordering him to such a brutal, ugly task, but perhaps the issue ran far deeper than that. Raihan lurched forward, boots heavy on the flagstones, the expression on his face twisted with something so wild and unknowable that Leon reached behind him for the dagger he kept even now tucked away beneath his desk.

Yet instead of swinging for him, or drawing his own blade, Raihan collapsed to his knees in a slumping heap.

“Please, sire…Leon, I need your help.” The end of his sentence broke with a sob, and Leon’s hand froze. He had never heard Raihan like this before. Never so weak, so open and raw it was as though he’d been cracked apart like a splintering bone. “Please, Majesty.”

“What can I—what might I do to help you?” Leon couldn’t stop himself from saying, even though his lips felt numb as they moved, fearing for what Raihan might ask. What had he seen, what had he done that made him this way? Was he going to ask Leon to do the unthinkable to end his misery? Why would he not simply say?

Then his face turned up, and Leon saw with clarity in the dying light of the candle that his eyes had turned red. Not a drunk’s bleary, bloodshot red, but red like the end of a poker left too long in the flames. Glowing red, unearthly red, a red that consumed every trace of the familiar blue he was accustomed to and seemed to shine all the more horrendously for how sallow and sunken Raihan’s face had become. He looked like a man in the grips of some disease, or starvation, and Leon’s hand drifted forward without his asking it to, as though through some regal power he could bestow health back to his dearest friend.

Before he could blink, Raihan wrapped his wrist in a grip like iron, yet tightened no further. Instead, his eyes focused in on the tip of one of Leon’s fingers, watching it as a hawk might watch a mouse running below in a field. Leon tried uselessly to pull his hand back; Raihan had always been a strong man, but this was beyond the strength gifted by training tirelessly. Now he was like a marble statue, and all of Leon’s might had as much effect on him as if he were trying to free himself from stone.

“Just a drop of your blood,” he whispered, and Leon froze in shock.

Raihan’s eyes flicked up to him, and Leon felt them pin him to the spot.

“That creature, it cursed me. Fed from me, the great Raihan, made me—whatever the hell it is that I am now. But you can help me, Leon. All I need is one drop. You already have my fealty as your knight, but I would give you anything for this. I would debase myself like a dog for you—“

“Stop!” Leon cut his tirade off with a cry. This was madness. He didn’t want to see Raihan crawling on the ground for him like a dog, he just wanted his friend back. He just wanted the days they had spent together, laughing and playing as boys, then as men. The sparring matches that left both of them breathless. The way that Raihan was the only person who saw him not as His Royal Majesty King Leon the First, but as Lee who got lost in the castle halls on a near-weekly basis, loved riding his horse too fast, and had once hid a stink bomb in his mathematics tutor’s desk. The first drink of wine together, the laughing purple night that ensued, and even the clumsy feel of Raihan’s lips against his own in a way they never knew how to talk about.

He wanted that back. Not this. Not Raihan’s suffering.

“I’ll give it to you, just one drop.” He didn’t miss how Raihan’s now-red eyes burned even brighter, nor the pale tongue that slipped out over his lips. But the hand around his wrist loosened, and he drew it back. Then, slowly, he drew out the dagger from its hiding place beneath the desk, and held it up. Just one drop. He could spare that much for Raihan, and had promised to do so many times.

Bracing himself, he pricked his finger with the point of the dagger, and held it out. The blood beaded there, thick and crimson, darker somehow than he had expected. Yet rather than pouncing on him like a ravenous beast, Raihan cradled his hand gently, fingers cold as ice. The slick of his tongue shocked Leon as it soothed the stinging in his fingertip, and then those plush lips wrapped around the digit, and Raihan’s eyes closed in bliss. One deep pull, then another, as though he were truly drawing the blood out and swallowing it down, as though he needed this from Leon more than he needed anything in the entire world.

His tongue curled, snaked, and Leon’s finger was drawn in up to the knuckle, wringing a gasp from his lips. Even as ragged as he was, the sight of Raihan on his knees, sucking a finger into his mouth with sweet reverence was almost more than Leon could bear. He couldn’t help the twinge that started in his gut, even when it brought a bittersweet taste to the back of his tongue.

But just when he was about to speak again, Raihan pulled off. Already, he seemed warmer somehow, as though the mere droplet or two of blood he had taken was enough to restore some part of him. Were his cheeks fuller, or was Leon imagining it? Had his hair gained back some of its shine? It must have. Bit by bit, he was coming back. Raihan’s eyelashes fluttered, and when he looked up again, his pupils were wide and dark in his eyes as though he truly were intoxicated this time.

“You—you have no idea how you taste, Lee, you have no idea the things I would do for that—“ His cheek pressed into Leon’s palm, and his lips whispered across the half-inch of exposed skin on Leon’s wrist before they were met by the stifling fabric of his shirt. Yet still he continued to rub his face against it, kissing it, as though already lost. “It always had to be you. I couldn’t dream of taking another. The scent of you, even across an entire ballroom, it owned me. Like no feast you can imagine, not like a woman either. Not like anything but warmth, but life, but you. I couldn’t help myself.”

His voice trembled with the reverence of his words, and Leon made his decision in a flash. Not bothering with the buttons and ties, he slashed open the fabric of his sleeve in a single motion with the knife that had been in his hand this whole time. It clattered when he cast it to the table, and pressed Raihan’s face to his wrist.

“Then take more. I could never deny you anything.”

Raihan’s eyes regarded him, shocked for a moment that held back even his hunger. But then it overwhelmed him, and Leon saw the blueish-white flash of his fangs. There was only a heartbeat to brace for the pain, but aside from the pinch of his skin being broken, there was none.

Instead what came was a galvanising shock of pleasure. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before, as though Raihan was touching some deep inner part of him, drawing and drinking of it in a primal way. No fear touched him, only the sensation of lips sucking at his wrist that felt sweeter than any mouth had ever been on his cock. Stunned, groaning, he clenched the arm of his chair with his free hand and listened to the wet slurps coming from between them. That Raihan would do this for him…he longed to touch him, and yet couldn’t move lest he break whatever spell this was. Perhaps it was no spell, but a dream instead, and he would wake hard and frustrated in his bed as he had many times before.

Then Raihan moaned into his flesh, and the sound vibrated up every bone in his arm and he knew it could be no dream. Nothing dreamt could feel so real, so viciously and delightfully immediate. Looking down, Leon saw he was already hard as a rock in his breeches, and saw Raihan follow his gaze. Would he stop? Be disgusted? They’d never spoken about this. Never addressed what was between them, if there was anything at all and not merely the fancies of a silly king.

Raihan’s fangs drew free of Leon’s skin, and his tongue caressed the wounds as though sealing them. His head spun as he was released, and a distant part of his mind marvelled that he truly bled no more, even from such an important vein. Yet the only red was on Raihan’s lips, glinting nearly black, until it was licked away by a now-pink tongue. Leon blinked, realising that Raihan looked more like his old self than he had in nearly a month.

“I said that I would do anything, sire, and I consider myself a man of my word, especially to my king,” Raihan murmured, reaching for the ties of Leon’s breeches. A tingle of something that wasn’t quite panic but still felt like fear raced up Leon’s spine, and he caught the sides of Raihan’s face with his hands.

“Wait, Raihan. You don’t have to do this if you’re just repaying me. You’re my…you’re important to me. I will happily give you what you need, especially as I was the one responsible for sending you to face that beast in the first place. I would not wish you to do this because you feel as though you owe it to me.”

The words spilled out of him in a rush, and Raihan’s eyes went wide for a moment, but then a smirk that Leon was all too familiar with curled on his handsome lips and he reached up to remove Leon’s hands from the sides of his face.

“Then rest easy, Majesty. I am allowed more than one hunger, am I not? Though if you wish me to take more, then I am yours to command.” With that, he gripped either side of the seam on the thigh of Leon’s breeches, and tore them open as though they were made of thin paper. The stroke of his tongue had been warmed with Leon’s blood and sent a tremor through him, tempered only slightly by the kiss Raihan placed to the skin.

When Raihan’s fangs sunk in this time, it was everything Leon could do not to orgasm on the spot. Pleasure churned through him until his cock twitched painfully in its confines, and he cursed as he undid the laces to pull it free himself. Yet the flickering of Raihan’s tongue and his greedy pulls never slowed, drinking deep until Leon felt his head swim with the sensation of it. Raihan moaned again, as though this were pleasing him too, and the sound of it melded with the feeling until Leon’s cock dripped with his lust.

The world spun once more, and then Raihan freed him. Leon watched, dazed, as Raihan’s mouth opened wide and the flash of his fangs, now coated in Leon’s own blood, caught in the candlelight before closing around the head of his cock. Wetness and pressure like he’d never known, and all from Raihan—Leon understood, now, his words from before. It could only have ever been him. This was always meant to be between the two of them.

Raihan’s tongue was wicked against him, and when Leon cupped his face again, it was only with the desperation of the pleasured. It was almost agonising, how good it felt, and yet he never wanted it to end—the slick pressure along the underside, the way Raihan’s tongue massaged at the vein on the side and then his throat opened wide to take more, to swallow Leon more than halfway. Tension mounted in his gut, but he had no will left to stop this, nor even ask to slow down. Raihan could and would take from his king as he pleased, and Leon could only moan wantonly for more.

He knew he wouldn’t last long like this, no matter how he wanted it to go on for the rest of the night. Looking down, he forced himself to memorise the rise of Raihan’s cheekbone, the elegant bridge of his nose, the way his lips were redder now from their sucking and drew ever closer to the base of his cock. A clenching throat welcomed him, and he repeated Raihan’s name like a condemned man’s prayer for freedom. When Raihan looked up at him, Leon saw that now the red in his eyes was fading. First it turned violet, then lighter lavender, and then it bled slowly back to the vibrant blue-green gaze he had known all these years more clearly than he knew his own.

Leon realised that his beloved’s face was staring up at him, pleasured, enamoured, from around his cock, and that was all he could take. Ecstasy blindsided him, scorching through his body until all he could do was orgasm, shooting his seed into Raihan’s waiting mouth and feeling a dizzy satisfaction as it was swallowed away. Raihan was so good, taking everything, swallowing all of him—

Blackness swam in his head for a moment, and when the world righted itself, Raihan was lapping the last of his orgasm off his softening cock, then rising to stand over him. Leon hadn’t the strength to even sit upright, but he felt no wrongness, not even at the reversal of their positions. Dimly, he saw Raihan fist his own cock and pump it, pulling back the skin to reveal the deep rosy flush of the head and stroking down the fat shaft. Leon wished he could even lean forward and kiss it, but Raihan only reached down and tugged up his shirt, exposing his stomach and chest moments before it was sprayed with Raihan’s own cum. Watching him in his pleasure was enough to make Leon’s cock twitch again in interest, but he was so tired, so terribly tired…

Absently, he was aware that he was gathered into his knight’s strong arms and carried towards his bed. As sleep came for his mind and he felt Raihan lie in the bed beside him, he had the single selfish thought that perhaps sending his knight to slay that beast hadn’t been so terrible after all.

Especially when he knew Raihan would always return to his king.