Round Robin XV

Coming to you live from my vacation in Walt Disney World! (It’s fun to write m/m erotica in line for Pirates of the Caribbean).
Last bit here

Samuel was heartily sick of it all. And he was done running from room to room, trying to clean up after this arrogant bastard.

Watch your thoughts, child.

The voice spoke directly in his brain. Medium volume, silken tone.

“Let’s stop the games. What is it you want?” Samuel could only make use of a primitive larynx, but if power made you an asshole like the one before him, he’d take his primitive skills.

Respect. The word cracked like thunder in his skull.

Cecelia crouched unmoving in her corner, the security detail frozen. Thrashing as much as his restraints permitted, Ken murmured then groaned.

He wants me to finish him. To take what remains.

“Well then, you’re both going to be disappointed. I ask again. What do you want?”

What I want is immaterial.

Gregory’s warning had been correct then. The ancient vampire was a pawn.

What I require is a soul. Choose one for me to take. He waved a thin pale hand at the mortals in the room.

“If your master needs a soul, let him have yours.”

How quaint. Do you actually believe creatures such as we possess a soul? Why else should we feed but to replace it?

Samuel didn’t know about a soul, but he did have a conscience. And his conscience told him that these people were his to protect.

Choose or I will rip the choice from your brain. And then I will rip the heart from your chest.

If the being in front of him had that power, he would have acted already. There must be something binding him, keeping him from taking.

“What is your name?”

Do you believe that foolishness? That my name will give you some power? It is Demosteles of Corinth. Much good may it do you.

And Samuel had thought his classical studies worthless. With murmured gratitude to whatever headmaster had dragged him through The Odyssey he said, “You ask because you cannot take one without my permission. To do so would be the greatest breach of hospitality. this building is mine. You are here as a guest. The mortals in it are under my protection. I will not give any to you.”

A sigh blew like wind through Samuel’s mind. It is a public accommodation. I will go make my selection elsewhere.

“I eat here. I sleep here. This place is mine.”

And what of your breach as host? My request is not so improper.

Samuel smiled, showing all of his teeth. “Your customs, Demosteles of Corinth, not mine. In my world, you might have been permitted to leave your card—at the back door like any laborer or tradesman.”

Instead of darkening, Demosteles grew paler with rage, but if he could have acted he would have, long since. The lights in the room flickered as quickly as a strobe, but Samuel’s immortal eyes could witness Demosteles’ ignoble retreat out of the window. He’d won them a small measure of safety.

When he turned back, the security guards were helping Cecelia to her feet.

“Doctor Wexler? What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Samuel offered them all a calm smile, without the show of teeth. “I heard you scream and came in.”

Ken was still thrashing beneath the restraints.

“Would you leave me alone with Doctor Dahl? See that no one comes in,” he added to the security guards.

“Of course, Doctor.” Whatever Demosteles had done to blur the three mortals’ memories, Samuel could still smell their fear. All three were desperate to get out of this room.

When the door shut behind them, Samuel pushed a chair in front of it and crossed to Ken’s bedside. Those sea blue eyes opened and fixed on him, clearing for an instant. “Samuel. I need…”

“I know.” Samuel hoped he did know. There was only one cure he could think to offer.
He freed Ken’s hands, and then his chest. Ken’s mouth attacked his, arms pulling Samuel down. Threading his fingers through those sun-streaked curls, Samuel used the pressure of his hand and mouth to slow the kiss. Ken relaxed as arousal began to replace the gnawing hunger within him.

Ken now followed Samuel’s lead and for a moment, it was easy to forget about the events of the night, to lose himself in the familiar exciting taste and feel of Ken’s warm tongue stroking against his own. The heat of Ken’s body. The smell of life so strong as it beat through him.

Samuel wanted nothing more than to sink inside that warmth. To surrender to the rhythm of their hips meeting as he sank deep inside that hot tight hole. But that’s not what this was for. Not for Samuel, but for Ken. To save his life, his soul.

They’d gotten him into a hospital gown, and for that Samuel was thankful. As Ken relaxed back against the pillow, Samuel shoved the gown to his neck, licking the salt from that tanned skin. Ken soaked up so much sunshine, he carried it with him, let Samuel have a taste of what he could no longer fully enjoy.

Normally, he’d take his time on that expanse of bronze skin, tongue the dark nipples, the flat planes of muscle, the fine gold hairs leading him down, but the night was waning, and his own strength with it.

Ripping off the last restraint, Samuel pinned Ken’s legs apart and drew his cock into his mouth. Ken arched off the bed, driving forward and Samuel let him go deep into his throat, swallowing around him with a quick flutter.

Backing off for an instant, Samuel soaked two fingers with his spit and pressed them down under Ken’s balls. Gulping that hard cock deep again, Samuel let his fingers slide down and into Ken’s ass, twisting and rubbing.

“Fuck me.”

“Shhh, love.” Samuel lifted his head again to murmur, hoping the security detail was more interested in what was going on outside the room than in it.

Unable to resist a moment for his own pleasure, Samuel ran the flat of his tongue along the shaft and then swirled the top, tasting a drop from the slit. Then he widened his jaw and took Ken to the root, breathing in the sweat and musk of his arousal, soft curls brushing Samuel’s nose as he swallowed and hummed. He used his thumb to press on Ken’s prostate from the outside, even as his fingers rubbed the gland from within.

Ken arched, fucking Samuel’s throat, words lost in indistinct gasps. When the first spurt of come hit the back of his throat, Samuel swallowed and then pulled off to sink his teeth into the inside of Ken’s thigh, while Ken bucked and shuddered, soaking his belly and Samuel’s hair.

Blood filled his mouth, the sensation dizzying on top of Samuel’s own arousal. It coated his tongue, his throat, the salty tang rich and sweet. He took as much as he dared, and by the time Ken’s breathing had slowed, he was licking the wound to seal it.

“Again. Fuck me. Please, Samuel. I need it.”

“Here. This is what you need, love.” Samuel bit deep into his thumb and coated Ken’s lips with what his veins had blended. Ken’s blood. Samuel’s immortal blood. His blood, his saliva could heal some wounds. He only hoped it could heal Ken’s soul.
Ken licked his lips, eyes wide and fixed on Samuel’s. “What—”

Samuel drove his thumb between the parted lips. Ken sucked. The tug went straight to Samuel’s unsatisfied cock, and it was all he could do not to rut against Ken’s belly.

When Samuel felt a bit lightheaded—from more than the blood pumping into his cock—he pulled his thumb free. He cleaned Ken’s lips with his tongue, the soft texture and the taste of blood almost robbing him of Samuel’s last ounce of control.

He waited, watching. Ken blinked and then looked at him. His Ken-doll. Home behind those beautiful eyes. “Sleep, Ken. You’ve had quite a night.”

The eyes blinked again. Of course, with Samuel’s blood freshly in Ken, Samuel could bid him do anything. Years from now, if he Called Ken, he would come. Is that what he had done to Blake? Was it Samuel’s unconscious need that had brought Blake into the midst of all this?

Samuel washed up at the bathroom sink, the ache of his denied cock bleeding into his thighs as the erection eased. His balls were still on the edge of mutiny when he stepped into the hall and nodded at the security guards.

He took a few steps away, exhaustion weighing down every bone and muscle he could name. Since he could name them all, he had to stop and rest against the wall.
That was where Cecelia found him. A light touch on his arm had him blinking awake and staring into her face.

“Doctor Wexler, I’m terribly sorry, but your other patient, Blake Bothman?” She lowered her eyes. “Doctor, I’m afraid he’s dead.”