Status: | Length:
Rating: | Genre(s): | Warnings:
Summary: My first 'new' material in a long while... I was suddenly inspired. I'm not sure how it will ultimately turn out....
Disclaimer:This story is a work of Fan Fiction, no claims to the contrary are being made. This story is the property and responsibility of its Author, not of Slash-Addict.com. None of the characters in this story are the property of the Author, except for those originally created by the Author. The characters and story elements taken from the Fandom in question are the property of the original copyright holder(s), no infringement is intended. The Author claims no interest in or ownership of any of the Fandom materials and all ideas and story lines are meant as a tribute to the originals and in no way imply liability for ideas contained in said story lines.
Brian stumbled across the darkened room, and would have landed on his face, if not for a conveniently placed chair. Gathering strength and what wits were available to him, he lurched towards the bright doorway ahead.
*Gotta be some...* Brian thought, hazily. *Someplace...*
Moving through the doorway, his eyes were assaulted by the harsh florescent lighting. He blinked numerous times, but accomplished nothing, and remained blinded. Shielding his eyes with one hand, he surveyed the kitchen in which he found himself.
Unfortunately, no part of his mind was registering the fact that he was in the kitchen. There were obvious clues, of course. The sink. The refrigerator. The cabinets. The wooden table and cutting board in the center of the room. The knives and other utensils. None of these objects caught his attention, however.
*Jackpot!* his mind shouted, as his eyes locked onto the one thing of interest in the entire room.
Brian rushed unsteadily towards the counter near the sink, slipping slightly on the tile floor in the process. A slightly coherent part of his mind realized that one of his heels had broken. He kicked the small black shoes off, not caring what became of them.
He leaned down towards the tiny pile of white powder which lay on the counter top. With as much care as he was still capable of, he pressed his nose to the pile and inhaled deeply. He stood up again, and immediately sneezed forcefully, sending traces of the powder all over his pin-stripe suit jacket and matching skirt.
The sneeze was followed by another and a slight coughing fit, all of which added to his already considerable frustration. He threw an angry look around the counter top before him, and spotted something. Focusing his eyes on a small ceramic container which sat innocently near the remaining bits of powder, he managed with difficulty to read the single word painted on its front. Flour.
“Fuck!!” Brian bellowed in rage. He swiped at the offending jar with all the strength he could muster. The container was sent flying into the side of the refrigerator, where it shattered into countless pieces and produced a cloud of white particulate which drifted slowly to the floor.
Brian made to storm out the doorway, but his stocking-clad right foot unexpectedly found something wet on the floor. Brian found himself falling, with no way of stopping. He watched as the sharp corner of the wooden table rushed up to meet his face.
At the last second, however, a red blur swept in front of him, halting his descent. With assistance from the red shape, he righted himself. When his head had slowed its spin sufficiently, Brian examined the red object. At first, he failed to recognize the shape, then the logic of the situation imposed itself on his scattered brain. It was an arm. An arm clad in a red leather glove, and the sleeve of an equally red leather jacket.
Brian's eyes traveled up the arm, and focused on a youngish man's pale features. Brian tried to remember where he had seen the man before. He was fucking gorgeous, and definitely worth remembering. The man had relatively short, slightly spiky, red hair. Not orange hair, like many 'redheads'. It was dark and rich, and made Brian think of red wine. The man's eyes made a nice contrast. They were a hypnotic shade of blue. A darker and deeper blue than most.
*Fuck me...* Brian thought. *Who are you?*
“You really should be a bit more careful,” the man said.
His voice was pleasant as well. It was deep, but not too deep. It was the sort of voice that would do well on audio books. Brian had a fleeting thought that this man was likely a better singer than he himself. Or, at least, could be.
“Come into the living room,” the man said, “you need to rest.”
It wasn't just the man's voice, either. He spoke well. His words were slow and precise... Exacting. Brian also made note of the man's American accent.
Brian made no response, but also offered no resistance when the man led him out of the kitchen. He allowed himself to be placed on the sofa, and then admired the man's firm and very well shaped buttocks as he left to search for something. Finally seeing the man's entire outfit, something clicked in Brian's mind. The red leather gloves. The red leather jacket. The red leather trousers. The red leather boots. And the one missing part of the outfit... The red helmet with its black visor.
*Oh, yeah.* Brian thought. *Him.*
A dim memory suddenly came back to him. A memory of being in a car with... someone. Of being stopped in traffic. Of looking out the passenger window, and seeing him... dressed all in red, on a matching red motorcycle.
But no other memories surfaced. There was nothing to explain how he got here, or why. Or where here was. The man came back into the room, carrying something in his hands. He set the objects on the coffee table, and Brian's still foggy mind registered that they seemed to be of a medicinal nature.
The man opened a plastic bottle, and carefully placed some of its contents onto a cotton ball. He then picked up a small towel with his right hand. The man reached out with his left hand, and took hold of Brian's skirt.
Brian jumped slightly, startled by this action. While the idea of being touched by this man was a pleasing one, his lack of knowledge as to where he was and how he got there made him nervous.
“I won't hurt you,” the man said, giving Brian the tiniest of smiles. “But, I need to take care of that...” he said, gesturing toward Brian's left thigh.
Brian wasn't sure what the man was talking about. He looked down at his legs, and saw that something dark had soaked into his stocking. Brian pulled his skirt up slightly, and revealed the long bleeding cut on the inside of his left leg. He sat for a moment in stunned silence, not believing what his eyes were reporting to his brain. Then, all at once, as if his nervous system had rebooted itself, he became aware of other injuries... Cuts... Bruises... A sudden memory... Of a moment of all-consuming terror... Brian's eyes widened, then rolled back into his head...
Two hours earlier...
“Don't you think you should take it easy with that stuff, Bri?” Stef said, glancing over at the smaller man.
Brian's only response was to continue the action of unscrewing the small glass container, and tapping out a small amount of the powder inside onto his hand. With a single quick motion, the powder was gone and Brian tucked the tiny container out of sight once again.
As the taxi slowed to a stop, Brian gave a few sniffs and absently rubbed at his nose with one hand. A moment later, the noise of an engine revving caused him to turn and glance out the window. A gleaming, sporty looking motorcycle had pulled up beside the taxi. As Brian watched, the man seated on the bike flipped his visor up to reveal the most intense set of blue eyes Brian could ever remember having seen. The man's eyes locked with Brian's. There was a faint but definite hint of a mischievous smile in the man's eyes, as well as something darker and indiscernible.
*Damn...* Brian thought. *Where's a guy like that when you need him...?*
The traffic light changed, and the moment ended. The man flipped his visor down, and sped away.
A few minutes later, the taxi had deposited Brian and Stefan near the entrance to the night club Stef had picked as their destination. At first, Brian had not been in the clubbing mood, but a few chemical additives changed his disposition. Gaining entrance proved to be a simple matter. Once they were inside, Brian allowed himself to float through the sea of bodies before him, leaving it to Stef to keep an eye on reality.
After a few quick drinks, they were out on the dance floor. Brian was by now quite happy with the evening. He alternated between teasingly nipping at Stef's neck, and simply enjoying the surrealism of the sights and sounds swirling around him.
The evening carried on in this vain for some time, as they went back and forth between drinking and dancing. Brian's sense of time was completely out to lunch, or possibly a midnight snack...
The inevitable interruption of nature calling was, of course, unavoidable. On his second such trip, Brian took the opportunity to recharge his artificial feeling of pleasure. *Stef's protests be damned.*
A few moments later, Brian realized he seemed to have lost track of exactly where the toilets were. He blundered down a long hallway, somewhere at the back of the club. He pulled open each door he came upon, and glanced in... There were no shortage of things to see; a mop and bucket, couples snogging, couples fucking, a man doing paperwork... Brian was just on the point of going back to the mop and bucket to relieve himself there, when he turned a corner and saw one last door to check. Brian grasped the handle, turned it and pushed the door open, entering the room...
Brian had barely even had time to notice the three men ahead of him -two of them standing, the third on his knees, all three illuminated by a single overhead light- when a sudden snapping sound filled his ears, and something wet landed on his face. The man who had been kneeling before the other two pitched backwards and lie still on the floor.
The thinner of the two remaining men, glanced up in Brian's direction. The man - tall, middle-aged, with brown hair that had receded in typical male-pattern baldness- seemed speechless for just a fraction of a second, after spotting Brian.
“Son of a bitch,” the man muttered in a thick cockney accent. With his left hand, he delivered a slap to the back of the other man's head. “I thought I told you to check the fucking door!” he yelled.
The other man, though much more heavily built than the first, cowered slightly at the blow. “I'm sorry boss...” he muttered in lame apology.
By now, Brian had begun to back out of the room.
The first man pointed toward Brian with the gun he held in his right hand. “Grab her.” he ordered, waggling the gun for emphasis.
A pair of strong hands clamped themselves onto Brian's upper arms, as a second heavily built man stepped out of the shadows from somewhere to Brian's left. Brian began struggling at once, but it was a plainly futile effort.
“No witnesses,” the first man said, turning back to the second. He raised the gun to the second man's temple. “NO WITNESSES!!” he bellowed at the man, shaking slightly with rage. He lowered the gun once more. “Clearly I haven't stressed that point enough!”
The first man set the gun down on a nearby table. He ran his hands through his thinning hair, looking momentarily like a stressed out corporate executive. He glanced at the body on the floor, and sighed.
“Take her out back and get rid of her,” he said in a casual albeit tired tone, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the door. “Make it look like a rape or something,” he added almost as an afterthought, shaking his head slightly.
Brian struggled wildly as the two huge men hauled him down the hall, and through an emergency exit which opened onto an alley. The man holding Brian's arms slammed him up against the brick wall of the building with such force that Brian was momentarily dazed, and stopped struggling.
“Hey,” the man said, looking closely at Brian for the first time. “This is a bloke... It's not a girl at all, it's a fucking fairy.”
“Boss said to make it look like a rape,” the other observed.
“I'm not fucking a bloke,” the man responded. “I don't care what the boss says.”
“Shouldn't be too much trouble to turn him into a girl,” the other said, producing a knife from his pocket. “Let's do a little re-assignment surgery,” he laughed, approaching Brian with the knife.
As the second man grabbed at Brian's skirt, Brian started screaming and kicking. One of his kicks caught the man that was holding him in the groin, but the man only grunted in pain, his hold on Brian's arms failed to loosen. Nevertheless, Brian continued to struggle like a wild animal. The second man managed to establish a grip on Brian's left ankle, and once again reached for Brian's skirt. With only his right leg free, Brian aimed a kick at the second man's face. Brian's foot connected, and he felt the heel of his shoe break as the man cried out in pain.
“You little bitch!” the man with the knife shouted, his nose now bleeding freely.
The knife man punched Brian hard in the stomach, driving the air from Brian's lungs. He then took the opportunity to grab Brian's left leg again, and pulled Brian's skirt up slightly.
“I'm gonna cut 'em off and feed 'em to ya now!” the man shouted, spraying blood from his broken nose as he spoke.
“No!!!” Brian screamed, as the man moved the knife towards his groin.
Pain blossomed along the inside of Brian's left leg as the knife sliced into his flesh. It took a fraction of second for Brian to realize that his left leg was now free. The man with the knife was no longer there. There was the sound of a sudden crash somewhere nearby in the darkness of the alley, and the remaining man released Brian.
“What the fuck?” the man said, as he pulled a gun from under his jacket.
His vision fading, Brian watched as a blurry red figure knocked the man's gun hand aside just as the gun went off. The figure then landed a blow to the man's chest that sent him flying into the door to the club. The man crumpled to the ground. As the figure approached him, Brian gave up the unequal struggle to stay conscious.
Brian's eyes snapped open, but it was several long moments before the world came into focus. Soon, he realized that the ceiling he was staring at was rather familiar. Slowly, experimentally, he sat up and looked around the room. It was his bedroom. He looked down at himself, and saw that he was clad in a bathrobe. It was his bathrobe. For a short while, he simply sat there on his bed and attempted to remember... remember... well, anything... The jumbled images that began to come to him seemed somehow unreal, and he shook his head as if trying to dislodge them.
*What a fucking nightmare...* Brian thought, as he pushed himself off the bed.
Brian winced slightly as he moved and various pain receptors went off throughout his body. He felt like shit. He had an idea as to what might make things better, or at least allow him not to care. But, when he went looking, he couldn't find it. Perturbed, but undaunted, Brian decided to check his other hiding spots.
Brian padded out of his bedroom, and proceeded to check his mental list of locales. After coming up empty on his second try, Brian started getting pissed off. If Stef had done another clean-out, he had been very thorough.
“You won't find any of your drugs,” came a calm voice from behind Brian.
Almost leaping out of his skin in surprise, Brian whirled around to face the speaker. Heart going a mile a minute, he looked the other man up and down. It took a little less time than before for Brian to recognize the man. Gone was the red biker outfit, and in its place was a simple black t-shirt and blue jeans combo, with black tennis shoes. As before, Brian couldn't help but stare for a moment at the man's deep blue eyes.
“What...?” Brian asked, after he had recovered himself.
“Your drugs,” the man repeated, “you won't find any of them.”
“Why the hell not?” Brian demanded, after a slight pause to collect his thoughts.
“I disposed of them,” the man stated in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. “You need rest and a healthful diet in order to heal, not poisons,” he continued, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking for all the world like a parent talking to an obstinate child.
“You threw away my stuff? All of it?!” Brian spluttered. “Just who the fuck do you think you are?” Brian went on, pointing an accusing finger at the man.
The man gave Brian a smile and leaned slightly towards him. “I'm the guy that saved your life last night,” he said, this time in a softer voice. The man held his arms out in a theatrical shrug, “What can I say? When I save somebody, I try to make sure they stay that way.”
Brian's mouth worked for a moment, but he couldn't think of anything vitriolic enough to say. He was saved any further thought on the matter by a knock at the door. Side-stepping the man who still wore an infuriatingly calm smile on his face, Brian went to answer the door.
“Brian! What the fuck happened to you?!” Stef blurted out when Brian opened the door. “I was calling you all night! I thought something might have happened to you,” Stef continued, hugging the smaller man fiercely.
Then Stef caught sight of the room's other occupant.
“Oh,” Stef said stiffly, releasing Brian. “I see. You ditched me for fresher meat.”
“What?” Brian said, momentarily confused. “No, I-”
“The least you could have done was let me know you were leaving,” Stef said, talking over Brian's attempt at explaining. “I was up all night worrying,” Stef continued, not allowing Brian the chance to speak. “I just about called out a search party for you... I looked all over the place, I asked practically everybody at that fucking club if they'd seen you... I asked the club's security people if they'd spotted you leaving-”
“Wait,” the red haired man asked forcefully, breaking into Stef's tirade. “Did you ask about him by name?”
“Yes,” Stef answered with a scowl, as if this was the stupidest question he had ever heard.
“Shit,” the other muttered in reply. He stepped away from Brian and Stef, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.
“Look, what's going on here,” Stef said, turning back to Brian, “who is that guy?”
“I'm... not entirely sure,” Brian replied in a tired voice.
“Bri, you don't even know who he is?!” Stef whispered angrily.
“He... he helped me out last night, and gave me a lift home,” Brian said, placing a hand on Stef's chest. “That's all, I swear.”
Stef glared at Brian, clearly not satisfied with this explanation.
“Look...” Brian went on. “It's a long story, and I'm not even sure I remember it all. Can we just leave it at that for now...?”
“Sure,” Stef said at length, though he was obviously unhappy. “Are you alright?”
“I'll be fine,” Brian assured him, sinking once more into the taller man's embrace.
Stef eyed the red haired stranger, who was standing over by the window in complete silence. “I'm staying,” he muttered, mostly to himself.
“You want some coffee?” Brian asked, pulling away slightly.
“Yeah,” Stef replied.
The two of them headed towards the kitchen, but the stranger beat them there. As they entered, they saw that the man was already in the process of making coffee. Stef wondered idly how the man could have heard Brian's soft voice from such a distance. They sat at the table and in due course the man served them coffee, as though he was some sort of silent android waiter. Brian had just lit himself a cigarette when the man clamped his fingers over the end, snuffing it out. He pulled the cancer stick from Brian's hand with ease and crushed it into an unusable mess in his hand.
“Hey!” Brian shouted in outrage. He reached for the pack on the table, but it was already gone. “Son of bitch,” Brian muttered, “he's determined to make me 'healthy'.”
Unable to help himself, Stef let out a sudden snort of laughter.
“It's not funny!” Brian spat, venomously.
“It is a bit, actually..” Stef said, giggling slightly.
“He obviously doesn't know who he's dealing with,” Brian said, petulantly. “I'm the king of self-abuse, buddy!” Brian shouted at the man, who had departed the kitchen after snatching Brian's cigarettes.
Stef stayed for a few hours more, which the two of them spent talking away about everything and nothing. When Stef finally decided to leave, Brian walked him to the door and they discovered Brian's guest to be sitting on the sofa flipping through a magazine. After his long talk with Brian, Stef felt somehow better about leaving Brian alone with the other man. Granted, Brian hadn't really talked about the guy, but it was clear that Brian wasn't concerned. They said their goodbyes, and Stef let it be known that he'd check back at regular intervals. Once the door was closed, Brian turned towards his silent guest.
“Alright,” Brian said, “it's Q and A time...”
“And exactly which questions would you like answers to?” the man asked.
“Well,” Brian replied, “firstly, how about your name?”
The man smiled, lifting his eyebrows momentarily. “Adam.”
Brian glared at the man for a moment, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “That's not your real name, is it?”
The man, who continued to smile, shook his head.
“And you're not going to tell me your real name, are you?”
“Nope,” came the simple response, still accompanied by the smile.
“Right,” Brian said, “Adam it is, then.”
“Second question?” Adam asked, still smiling.
“Where are my drugs?”
“I ate them,” Adam said flippantly, setting aside the magazine he had been holding. At Brian's angry expression, he sighed. “They're gone. Get over it.”
“Where are my fags, then?” Brian demanded.
Adam smirked. “I'm not gonna touch that one,” he said, suppressing a laugh.
“My cigarettes.” Brian clarified, impatiently.
Getting up from the sofa, Adam quickly closed the distance between the two of them. Brian just stopped himself from taking an involuntary step backwards. The red haired man was now standing uncomfortably close -or rather Brian would have found it uncomfortable if not for the attractiveness of the man in question.
“You know,” Adam breathed, looking down at the smaller man and inhaling deeply. “Smokers always smell of tobacco, even when they aren't smoking...” He leaned in to whisper in Brian's ear. “And sadly, it's really not a very attractive scent.”
Brian frowned angrily yet again. “Does that mean my smokes are 'gone' too?”
“They're bad for your health,” the other said airily, taking a short step backwards.
“I suppose you got rid of all my booze, too...” Brian said, sulkily.
“Of course not,” Adam replied with a grin. “Unlike your other poisons, alcohol isn't necessarily bad for you... in small enough doses.”
“My other poisons are just fine in small doses, too!” Brian stated, angrily.
“Even you know that isn't true,” the other responded seriously. “You must be hungry,” Adam continued, changing the subject. “That coffee you had earlier wasn't exactly a meal.” Without waiting for a reply, he headed into the kitchen.
“If I had my stash, I wouldn't need food,” Brian muttered to himself, then followed the other man into the kitchen.
“Let's see what there is, shall we,” Adam said, pulling the fridge door open dramatically.
Brian goggled. He had expected the fridge to be mostly bare, but it was full to overflowing. Fruits, vegetables, meats, cheeses and all manner of foodstuffs filled the shelves.
“Where'd all that come from?” Brian blurted out.
“The grocery store,” the other replied, “where does food usually come from?” Adam began plucking ingredients one by one from the shelves. “That's one of very few good things about big cities,” he commented, “being able to go shopping anytime of the day or night.”
Brian watched as the red haired man -who, for all intents and purposes, was still very much a stranger- started preparing a meal. Adam moved through Brian's kitchen as if it were his own, seemingly knowing where everything was kept. As the ingredients came together -butter, garlic, eggs, onion, sausage, bell pepper, cheese- Brian realized that some sort of omelet was on the menu. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was nearly noon. Suddenly he did feel hungry.
Deciding not to bother the other man, Brian sat in silence as he worked. Brian watched the other man's movements, the casual perfection of them. It was almost as if he was constantly aware of the position of everything. Not just of his own body. Not just of the counter, the stove and the sink. Not just of the skillet, its contents or the utensil in his hand. But rather all of it at once. The man moved with seemingly flawless coordination. He seemed in his element at the moment, and Brian found himself idly wondering if this man was a chef. The omelet was soon finished, and expertly transferred to a plate.
“And now, the pièce de résistance,” Adam said, setting the plate before Brian with a flourish. It looked like the sort of thing that one might be served at some posh restaurant for a ridiculously inflated price. It even had a little garnish of parsley on it, though Brian hadn't noticed it being added.
“Nice accent,” Brian commented, noting how the other man easily delivered the French phrase.
“Why thank ya kindly,” Adam replied, switching to an entirely different accent and sliding smoothly into the seat beside Brian.
“Not having any?” Brian queried.
Adam smiled at him in an almost, but not quite disturbing way. “I ate while you were asleep.”
Brian took a bite of the omelet. It was good, but nothing extraordinary.
“Good?” Adam asked.
Brian smirked. “It'd be better if I had a smoke to go with it.”
“Of course it would,” Adam said dryly, as he placed his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers.
“So,” Brian said, after he had been eating for several minutes, “you do this sort of thing a lot?”
“What sort of thing?”
“You know,” Brian continued, “hang around back alleys and save famous people...”
For the first time, Brian saw a confused look on the other's face. For a split second Brian marveled at the novelty of it, it was the first sign he'd seen of anything other than total confidence from his guest.
“Famous?” Adam said, wearing a quizzical look.
Now it was Brian's turn to look less than confident.
“You... you do know who I am, right?” Brian said, hating the hopeful tone of his own voice.
“Well, I know your name... I took a look through your purse,” Adam replied, hesitantly. “That's how I knew where you lived...”
“But, you've never heard of me...?” Brian asked in a small voice.
Adam made a small, vague gesture with his hands. “Sorry,” he muttered.
Brian sat back in his chair, suddenly unsure of whether or not he really felt like finishing his food. “Well, I...” Brian said after a moment, “I'm a... a famous rock star.” Brian suddenly realized just how silly that statement sounded, even if it was the truth.
There was an unbearably long silence.
During the silence, Brian alternated between worrying about how lame it sounded to tell somebody who had never heard of you that you were a rock star, and being pissed off that his guest must have been living on Mars for the last several years in order to not know who he was.
“Oh,” Adam finally spoke. He gave Brian a friendly sort of smile and shrugged. “...I'm a vampire.”
“Okay,” Brian said, annoyed, “you don't have to make jokes. I know how lame I sounded just now... But I really am a rock star. Really. A famous one.” He searched the other man's face for some indication of belief.
“No, no,” Adam said, suppressing a laugh, “I believe you.”
Brian let out a long sigh, pushed the two thirds finished omelet away from him, and placed his forehead on the table with a slight 'thud'. “I can prove it,” he groaned, “do you want me to play something for you?”
“No, really,” Adam replied, chuckling slightly, “that won't be necessary. Seriously, I believe you.”
“No you don't,” Brian whined, “if you believe me, then why are you laughing?”
“It's just your reaction,” Adam responded, trying to suppress another snort of laughter. “It's priceless...”
Brian raised his head up off the table and glared angrily at him, which only served to make Adam's fit of laughter worse. Brian returned his head to the table with a loud 'thunk'.
“I'm sorry,” Adam said a few moments later, wiping a single tear from the corner of his left eye. “Really, seriously, I believe you... and that would certainly explain the impressive collection of guitars... But, I haven't really kept up with music for the last ten years or so...” He shrugged.
“So,” Brian said, trying very hard to forget the last few minutes of the conversation, “what do you do for a living?”
“Oh, a little of this, a little of that,” Adam replied vaguely. “I'm sort of a headhunter at the moment.”
“You're from America?”
“And you're here on business?”
“And you just happened to be in the right dark alley at the right time to save little old me?” Brian said, coming -by degrees- back to his original question.
“Well,” Adam said, after a seconds pause, “I had business in the area.”
“Business in the alley?” Brian asked, smiling.
“I was parking my bike.”
“Right...” Brian said, knowing that the other man was being evasive. *But evasive about what, exactly?* “And the repair work you did on my leg?” he continued. “How come you didn't just take me to hospital?”
“I had adequate first aid experience to handle it myself,” Adam replied, smoothly. “Besides, hospitals tend to ask awkward questions.”
“Like 'what's your name' and 'what were you doing in that alley'?” Brian said, a bit sardonically.
“Precisely,” Adam responded with a sly grin.
“Well,” Brian said after several moments silence, “how long are you going to be hanging around, then? Because I do have a life you know...”
“Ah,” Adam replied, “yes, well... I had intended to leave this morning, and conclude my... business.”
“But now you've changed your mind?” Brian inquired, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“Well, actually,” Adam said, “your friend changed it for me.”
“You mean Stef?” Brian said, looking confused.
“Yes,” Adam said, “if he went around that club asking after you by name, it's a fair bet that the men who tried to kill you last night know where you live. So, I can hardly leave you on your own, now can I?”
Brian paled slightly. His memory of the previous night was still somewhat fuzzy, but the thought of it happening all over again made him feel sick.
“Speaking of,” Adam said, leaning forward slightly, “what exactly did you do that had those guys trying to cut off bits of your anatomy?”
Brian crossed his legs involuntarily. “I... I sort of walked in on an execution...” Brian muttered, then proceeded to give Adam a run down on what he could remember of the evening's events.
“Mmm,” Adam said, leaning back, “yeah, that would certainly earn you an unglamorous end.”
“It wasn't my fault,” Brian muttered, “why should I have to pay for their carelessness in not locking the door...”
“Well, exactly,” Adam said sarcastically, shaking his head, “the insensitive bastards.”
Brian gave a single, forced laugh.
“They are gonna kill me, aren't they?” Brian said, staring at the table's surface.
Adam nodded, “Yep.” He shot Brian a smile. “They're gonna try, anyway.”
“I should call the cops,” Brian muttered, mostly to himself.
Adam snorted. “Yeah, like that ever does any good.”
Brian turned to look at the other man. “And what would you suggest I do?”
“In a situation like this?” Adam replied. “It's the law of the urban jungle. It's kill or be killed.”
“Huh?” Brian said, a bemused look on his face.
“It's really very simple,” Adam said, “your only hope of survival is to kill them before they kill you.”
“What?” Brian spat, incredulous. “Are you shitting me?”
“Not at all.”
“When said you were a headhunter, did you mean corporate or cannibal?” Brian asked, starting to wonder if he was dreaming this whole conversation.
“Neither,” Adam replied with an unnerving smile. “Trust me,” he continued, seeing the look on Brian's face, “sooner or later they'll send someone here to kill you, so we stay put until then.”
Brian blinked. “And why would we do this?!”
“Because,” Adam explained, “as long as we stay here, we know where the attack will come from-” he gestured vaguely in the direction of Brian's front door, “-and all we have to do is wait. If you leave your apartment, you could be gunned down anywhere.”
“Good!” Brian shouted. “If I'm gonna die, I'd rather it happen when I wasn't expecting it!”
“Yes,” Adam said patiently, “but if you stay here, you won't die. I can protect you.”
“Prove it.” Brian said. “Prove to me that I can depend on you to save my life a second time. When they have guns and you don't. When this time, they'll be expecting trouble.”
The other man stared at him for a long moment, his deep blue eyes suddenly cold and hard. Brian swallowed.
“Fine,” Adam said, standing up. He walked to the counter and picked up a large butcher knife, then came to stand before Brian. “You want proof,” he said, holding up his right hand, “here...” Holding the knife in his left hand, he stabbed it through the palm of his right hand, up to the hilt.
Brian's hands flew up to cover his mouth, as his eyes widened in shock. “Oh, God!”
Adam drew the knife out, and turned his right hand so the palm faced Brian. As Brian watched, the bloody wound grew smaller and sealed itself shut. Brian's terrified glance flicked to the other man's face.
“I told you I was a vampire.”
Brian knocked his chair over as he scrambled out of it. He backed towards the far corner of the kitchen, eyes as wide as those of a frightened rabbit.
“Oh, must we do it this way...” Adam said in a bored voice. He advanced on the smaller man, who's eyes were darting this way and that. “Cursing the fact that you don't have a crucifix handy?” he asked. “Well let me save the trouble,” he continued, reaching inside his shirt and pulling out a small silver cross which was attached to the chain around his neck.
He unclasped the necklace and held it out to Brian, who made no move to take it.
“Crosses, holy water, silver, wooden stakes,” he said, looking Brian in the eye, “the list goes on and on... And none of it affects me any differently than it does you. You'll notice I didn't have any trouble chopping the garlic for your omelet.”
Brian's eyes kept flicking wildly between the cross, the other's face and the omelet which still sat unfinished on the table. “Y-you didn't eat any...” he muttered.
“Well, I wouldn't want to have garlic on my breath when I did this, would I?” Crossing the remaining distance between them, he grabbed the smaller man's face and pressed his lips to Brian's.
Brian tried to pull away, but it proved quite impossible. After a few moments of struggling, Brian relaxed and allowed himself to melt into the kiss. The other man's tongue probed his mouth, and caressed Brian's own tongue. A still coherent part of Brian's mind wondered at the fact that he didn't seem to be able to taste the other man at all. When the kiss was finally broken, Brian was surprised to learn that at some point during the oral workout the other man had picked him up and now carried him in his arms.
“Feeling more relaxed now?” Adam asked.
“A bit, yeah,” Brian breathed, staring transfixed into the other man's eyes.
“Think I'm up to the task of protecting you for a while?”
Brian nodded blankly, still gazing at the other's face.
Adam smiled, a slow, broad smile. “Want me to take you back to bed?”
Brian nodded again, feeling a ridiculously childish grin spreading across his features.
“You might have to steer me around the curves,” Adam said as he laid Brian carefully on the bed. “Seeing as I've never done this before.”
“You mean, you've never... with a man?” Brian asked, surprised.
“You have the distinction of being the first,” Adam replied.
“How many women have you slept with?” Brian asked, unable to restrain his curiosity.
Adam paused for a moment, eyes unfocused in thought. The thumb of his right hand tapping the end of each finger in turn, apparently counting. “Five thousand two hundred and seventy eight. No, seventy nine.” he said after a moments thought.
Brian's mouth fell open.
“That's all in the last fifteen years or so,” Adam continued, apparently taking no notice of Brian's shocked reaction. “Before that I'd only slept with six women...”
“What happened fifteen years ago?” Brian asked, trying to recover himself.
“Well,” Adam said, taking a breath. “I died.”
“Only for a minute or two,” Adam elaborated. “My girlfriend, as it turned out, was... not exactly human. Seems she wasn't willing to let go so soon...”
“Where is she now?” Brian asked, glancing momentarily towards the bedroom door, as if expecting to see a woman standing there.
Adam made a vague gesture. “Who knows... Out there somewhere.” Adam sat down on the edge of Brian's bed, and sighed deeply. “We didn't stay together very long after she... changed me.”
“How come?” Brian asked, shifting into a sitting position.
“She was quite the firm believer,” Adam explained, playing with the silver cross in his hand. “Especially in the 'thou shalt not kill' rule... So, when I started dispatching undesirable people, it kind of put an end to our relationship.”
“Dispatching?” Brian said, his voice almost a whisper.
Adam turned towards Brian, his gaze suddenly cold and deadly serious. “I've killed more people than you might imagine.” He allowed the statement to hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “Murders, rapists... Anyone that I felt deserved it...”
Adam stood up so quickly and so suddenly that Brian flinched.
“It seemed a natural thing to do,” Adam continued in an almost circumspect tone. “After all, what good is it to have such powers if you do nothing with them? I could go around pretending to be some kind of superhero... Saving the innocent, pretending that the law will deal with the guilty.
“I've seen things,“ Adam continued, “the things people do to each other. Things that would horrify any sane person.” He leaned towards Brian, his eyes alight with something Brian couldn't quite identify. “Only death can extinguish such evil.”
Adam blinked and took a step backward. The moment was past and the dangerous quality that had been lurking in his eyes was gone.
“She didn't agree with my reasoning, of course,” Adam continued in a mild tone.
Privately, Brian thought he could see why someone would disagree, considering the sales pitch. He wasn't about to voice his thoughts, though.
Adam held the small silver cross up to his face and inspected it closely. “It's a funny feeling...” he muttered.
“What is?” Brian asked, tentatively.
“Realizing that you're going to live for a thousand years, a million years, perhaps longer,” Adam replied, still looking at the necklace. “But knowing that when your time finally comes... You're gonna burn.” His eyes flicked towards Brian, and the dangerous glint was back.
“I thought forgiveness was supposed to always be possible,” Brian said, hesitantly.
“Ah,” Adam said, holding up a finger. “Only if you ask for it. Only if you admit you were wrong. Only if you're sorry for what you did.” Adam spread his arms wide, and turned his face towards the ceiling. “Vengeance is Mine, saith the Lord!” He turned to look once more at Brian. “And I say He takes too damn long...”
Brian fidgeted uncomfortably, as Adam paced to the far wall and back again.
“Still,” Adam said, putting on the necklace once more, “who knows, maybe in a thousand years I'll feel differently about it...”
“How old are you?” Brian asked, desperate to change the subject. His guest's rapid shifts in demeanor were a bit unnerving, to say the least.
“Closer to fifty than I care to admit,” came the reply.
“Fifty?!” Brian blurted out before he could stop himself.
“I said close,” Adam shot back, sounding slightly miffed, “I'm not there yet.”
“That's so totally not fair!” Brian shouted. “You're like way older than me, but you look like you're in your early twenties!”
Adam suddenly leaned over Brian, placing his hands on either side of Brian's hips, their faces only inches apart. There was a part playful, part predatory look in his eyes.
“I could fix that,” he breathed, inching closer so that his lips brushed Brian's. “I could make you like me... Young and beautiful, forever...” He kissed Brian briefly, then repeated the action.
Brian broke the second kiss and scooted back a few inches. “Er, I-I don't think I'm ready for such a long term commitment, just yet...” Brian gave a nervous little laugh.
Adam smiled. “Don't worry, I wouldn't do that without your consent.” One of his hands slithered up Brian's back and cupped the smaller man's neck, pulling Brian closer again. “Now,” he breathed, “where were we?”
The third kiss continued for some time, only when Brian felt the other man loosening his robe did he break the kiss.
“Look,” Brian muttered, slightly out of breath, hands restraining the other's. “Umm, if I... If I don't, exactly, 'measure up' to your expectations... could you do me a favor and just not mention it...?”
Brian gasped as the other man suddenly gripped his hardness through the robe.
“I don't think that will be an issue,” Adam breathed. “Just remember... It's not how long it is that counts, it's how long you can keep it up,” he continued with a grin.
“Well, I-” Brian began, then stopped. “How long can you keep it up?” he asked, unable to hold back his curiosity.
Adam smiled. “Indefinitely.”
“Really?” Brian said, his eyes lighting up.
“Really,” Adam said. “Though, it gets a bit boring after the first hundred hours, or so.”
“A hundred hours?” Brian asked, eyes widening.
Adam nodded in confirmation.
Brian shifted slightly. “Ouch,” he muttered, “...how?”
“Well,” Adam said, moving to lie beside Brian, “obviously that sort of marathon is only possible when both participants are of the undead variety. Since we need neither sleep nor rest, and can go without food or drink for days or even weeks.” Adam gave another of his mischievous smiles. “Of course, food and drink can always be worked into the mix.”
“Did you have a food group in mind?” Brian inquired.
“Mmm,” Adam gazed thoughtfully at Brian for a second. “Not right now, I think.” He placed a hand on Brian's chest, pushing the smaller man down onto the bed. “Let's see what fifteen years of practice has taught me...”
For the next thirty minutes, Brian was in heaven. Adam's skilled hands and equally skilled tongue roamed all over his body. Brian continually moaned with pleasure as he was massaged, caressed and licked.
Eventually, however, frustration began to replace pleasure. It had become clear to Brian early on that Adam was avoiding the part of Brian's anatomy which ached to be touched. At first, Brian was able to handle it, but now desperation was beginning to set in.
Brian's every attempt at getting the other man to turn his attention to Brian's crotch was being ignored. Forcing the issue simply wasn't possible; Adam was much stronger than Brian and easily held him in place. Finally, Brian couldn't take the teasing any longer. It was time to beg.
“Please...” Brian moaned, bucking his hips once more.
Adam, who was busy licking and kissing his way up Brian's belly, paused in his actions. “Ready to change gears?” his voice was teasing as well.
“You've proved your point,” Brian sighed, “you're very good at this... But can we please move on... I'm so hard, it hurts. I need-!”
Brian let out a startled gasp. Adam had grabbed his cock so suddenly and with such force, that Brian almost came instantly. Sensing how close he was, Adam made no further movements.
Once Brian had had a chance to come back from the edge, Adam began slowly stroking the underside of Brian's cock with his thumb. Adam increased the pressure of his grip, bending the smaller man's hard-on upward in an almost painful manner. Brian groaned.
Adam slipped his right hand under Brian's head, entwining his fingers in the smaller man's dark hair. As his left hand continued its firm massage of Brian's member, Adam lowered his mouth to Brian's throat. He kissed, licked and sucked his way up and down Brian's neck.
Brian continued to moan and whimper as he felt the other man tracing the carotid artery with his tongue. Seemingly done with Brian's neck for the moment, Adam nipped at the skin just under his ear. Adam then proceeded to bury his nose in Brian's hair and inhale deeply.
“Let me taste you,” Adam breathed into Brian's ear.
The request was accompanied by an exquisite swirling action of fingers on the head of Brian's cock, which left him gasping for breath and momentarily unable to answer.
“Just a little bite,” Adam continued, massaging the underside of Brian's cock from tip to base with a single, perfectly placed finger.
“I thought you said...” Brian muttered, head swimming with pleasure.
“I know what I said,” Adam whispered into Brian's ear, “that's why I'm asking and not just taking.”
“I... I'm not...” Brian mumbled incoherently, as Adam continued to do wonderful things with his hand.
“Just a little taste,” Adam promised, “you'd have to drink from me to be changed.”
Half delirious, Brian nodded. “Okay...”
Adam smiled hungrily, drawing back from Brian's face. Adam's right hand sought out Brian's left. Gripping the back of Brian's hand and interlacing their fingers, he turned Brian's palm upward.
Brian opened his eyes and felt his breath catch in his throat. Unable to turn away, he watched as the other man's perfectly white teeth elongated into razor sharp fangs. There was a sudden -and quite literal- stabbing pain as Adam sank his teeth into the soft flesh of Brian's palm.
Brian would have screamed, but his voice seemed to have deserted him. Adam's left hand had, of course, continued its work and the sudden addition of pain to the considerable pleasure he was feeling pushed Brian over the edge.
The intensity of the orgasm took Brian by surprise. Between the blood being drawn from his palm and the spunk coaxed from his cock, Brian felt as if his very life was being sucked from his body. Brian's eyes rolled back, his eyelids fluttered wildly and then all was darkness.
Brian's eyes flew open. Despite the rapidity of this first movement, as his eyes scanned the room they actually seemed to creak. Slowly, laboriously, Brian rolled onto his back and groaned slightly. Feeling the need to rub his eyes, Brian lifted his hands to his face and flinched upon realizing there was something on his left hand. Blinking a few times, he saw that it was a bandage.
The intensity of his orgasm had been such that it nearly washed away the memory of the bite. Nearly. Experimentally, Brian tried flexing his fingers and discovered that there was indeed a considerable ache of protest from his palm. The after effects of being bitten were unpleasant, but so worth it. That had been the single most fabulous hand job of his life.
Taking a deep, relaxing breath through his nose alerted Brian to something. Two somethings, actually. One, he could smell something mouthwatering in the air. And two, upon smelling it he suddenly realized he was very hungry.
By the time Brian had managed to leverage himself into a sitting position, Adam had appeared in the bedroom doorway.
“Good evening,” Adam said. Though Brian couldn't see the other man's face in the dim light of the bedroom, he could hear the smile on the other's lips. “Did you sleep well?”
“Like a brick,” Brian rasped through a throat that was drier than he at first realized.
“Starved,” Brian responded in quieter voice this time, so as not to strain himself. Brian swung his feet off the bed and was rather startled to find that Adam had -in the blink of an eye- moved close enough to offer his hand. Brian accepted the other's help in getting to his feet and allowed himself to be led into the kitchen.
“Dinner is served,” Adam announced, offering Brian a seat.
As soon as Brian was seated, he produced a bowl of soup seemingly from thin air. It occurred to Brian, belatedly, that Adam was being less shy about using his vampire powers, now that Brian knew the truth. The man was moving so fast, that Brian wasn't even able to see him when he was in 'vamp-speed-mode'. Despite having had it demonstrated to him that Adam represented no threat, Brian still found the unnaturalness of it all more than a bit unsettling.
“So, what's on the menu?” Brian asked, trying to focus on something rather more down-to-earth.
“It's a sort of a Japanese theme,” Adam explained, taking his seat across from Brian. “Miso soup, salad, tempura and teriyaki steak.”
“Five, if you count dessert.”
“Wow,” Brian raised his eyebrows. “It's like you knew I'd be hungry.”
“Well,” Adam said, giving his soup a contemplative glance, “it's a natural reaction to...”
“Donating blood?” Brian prompted.
Adam smiled. “All donations gratefully accepted.”
Brian smiled in return. “Is it always like that?”
“Like what?” Adam asked, starting on his soup.
“So...” Brian gestured vaguely, hastily shoving a spoonful of soup into his mouth. He felt his cheeks warm slightly, and not just from the soup either. Brian swallowed. “So orgasmic?”
“Being fed on, you mean,” Adam said. It wasn't a question, but Brian nodded anyway. “It depends, I suppose, on the context.”
“Well,” Adam smiled, “I fed on you in a decidedly sexual context. Wouldn't you say?” Brian blushed again, slightly, and nodded. “On the other hand,” Adam continued, “if I'd simply attacked you out on the street somewhere... I doubt you would have found it arousing.”
“I... see what you mean,” Brian said, before finishing his soup.
Seeing that Brian was done, while his own bowl still held several spoonfuls, Adam brought the small bowl to his lips and drained it in one go. Getting up from the table, he whisked both bowls away and replaced them with salad.
Examining his salad, Brian couldn't quite believe the variety of food on the small plate. The portion wasn't all that large, but there were vegetables and fruits of all kinds, as well as cheese and a slightly sweet dressing, who's taste defied description. It was a bewildering array of colors.
“What's with the plant pride parade?” Brian asked.
“Ah,” Adam grinned,”well, you see... All the foods I chose for this meal are high in either iron, vitamin bee-twelve, or folic acid.”
Adam smiled at Brian's response. “Blood building nutrients,” he explained. “Which reminds me,” he said, getting up from the table. He returned a moment later with a large glass of dark liquid, which he set beside Brian's plate. “Drink up.”
“Wine?” Brian asked.
“Juice,” Adam said. “Grape and black cherry.”
Brian made a face. “I'd rather have wine.”
“Later,” Adam said. “Best to take it easy on the alcohol for a bit.”
Dutifully, Brian took a swig of the juice. It wasn't too bad. The sweetness of the grape balanced nicely with the tart of the cherry. Brian finished off his salad in due course, even though he was less than pleased to learn that some of the green things were seaweed.
With the salads out of the way, Adam placed a large plate of tempura on the table between them, and saucers with small bowls of dipping sauce in front of himself and Brian.
Brian smiled, this was how he liked his veggies – deep fried into submission. He would have preferred to just eat his favorites, but Adam insisted that he have one of everything. Apparently it was all part of the blood building regimen. When the tempura was gone and the steak placed in front of him, Brian was surprised to find that he was still hungry. He guessed that, in a way, he kind of was eating for two at the moment. The steak was cut into thin slices that proved very tender, and so succulent that he found himself moaning in pleasure. When the steak was all gone, Brian realized that although the meal had seemed lavish, Adam had clearly planned the portions very carefully so as to insure that Brian ate it all.
“So,” Brian said, eyeing the empty plate in front of the other man. “You do eat regular food.” He cocked an eyebrow, “do you still need blood to survive?”
Adam ran a finger lightly around the edge of his water glass. “Actually, no,” he said. “In fact, we don't really need anything to survive.” He graced Brian with a lazy smile. “If need be, our bodies can recycle fluids, even air... The perfect closed system.”
“How can that be?” Brian asked, puzzled. “I mean... what makes you go?”
“Your body runs on chemical energy, extracted from food,” Adam said. “Since we can survive without consuming anything, we obviously don't work that way.” He shrugged. “But, as to what we do run on... Solar, nuclear... Magic. Who can say?”
“Hmm,” Brian hummed, considering. “If you don't need blood, then why drink it?”
“Because,” Adam replied, “we have a taste for it.” He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed deeply. “I can't express in words what it's like. It's more than taste... It's... Primal. Again, it's context that defines the experience. The blood of a lover is... wonderful joy. The blood of an enemy... exquisite rage.”
“Sounds like it's always... passionate,” Brian said, swallowing.
“Very much so,” Adam responded. That dangerous glint was back, but it soon passed. “Dessert?” he asked cheerily.
“Um,” Brian hesitated, considering his full belly. “What kind?”
“Green tea cake.”
“Weird,” Brian said. “Maybe just a taste...”
Moving quickly, but not vampire quickly, Adam presented Brian with a small slice of cake. It was very different, but enjoyable all the same. When he was done, Brian placed his napkin on the table and eyed the vampire suggestively.
“Now,” Brian breathed, “can I interest you in an after dinner snack?”