Page 17 of Farkas: Gothika
“Ah, but these scars….” Vincent traced a finger along a thin raised line near Lee’s collarbone. It was the result of being kicked by the family’s mule when he was a boy. His father had scowled and told him to be more careful.
“Sorry.”
“No, you do not understand. Pretty faces are easy to find, especially in Los Angeles. I prefer a person who is interesting. Whose body and soul carry the marks of hard-fought battles.” Vincent nodded. “That is true beauty. Now finish undressing me, Ludwig.”
With anyone else, Lee would have protested the use of his old name. He’d had it legally updated, after all. But he liked the way it sounded in Vincent’s mouth, and it felt right too. He unbuttoned Vincent’s trousers.
Vincent wore no underwear. He stepped free of his slacks as gracefully as a dancer and then stood, as naked as Lee. But unlike Lee, Vincent was clothed in an air of authority that was underscored by his hard cock and confident smile.
“Master,” Lee found himself saying.
“Just so.”
Vincent grabbed him for another kiss, pressing their bodies together and clutching bruisingly hard at Lee’s ass. It was delicious. Vincent had trapped him, and Lee was delighted to be caged. He surrendered himself completely, settling his hands on Vincent’s shoulders and rutting up against him shamelessly.
Shamelessly. That was the key, wasn’t it? He’d fucked before, but always with a pall of guilt hanging over him, dampening his desire. He felt none of that now.
Vincent licked a broad, damp trail along Lee’s neck. “Are you entirely willing?”
Lee answered without hesitation. “Yes. Anything you want of me.”
“Good. Right now I wish to taste you.”
Vincent gave Lee a firm push, toppling him back onto the mattress, legs hanging over the edge. Then Vincent took a step back. “Show yourself to me. Expose yourself fully.”
With Vincent watching intently, Lee scooted back a bit, bent his knees, and pulled his spread legs toward his chest. The position was obscene, and Lee should have felt humiliated. But he didn’t. If anything, he was eager to open himself up.
With an approving expression Vincent came closer, bent over, and gripped Lee’s hips. Without any preface, he swallowed Lee’s cock to the root. The shock of it made Lee cry out and convulse slightly, but he wasn’t trying to get away, and when Vincent held him firmly in place, Lee was grateful.
The friction was exquisite. Vincent pulled his mouth almost all the way free before plunging down quickly, or sinking slowly, or allowing his teeth to lightly graze Lee’s sensitive skin. In an embarrassingly short time, Lee nearly came undone. But Vincent let him go just before that, bringing a moan of distress from Lee’s throat.
“Greedy,” Vincent purred, gazing into Lee’s eyes “Good. Now lift your scrotum out of the way.”
Shuddering at being so complicit in his own debauching—but wanting this so deeply that he felt he might die if it were denied—Lee complied, moving his right hand away from his leg and cupping his balls to give Vincent better access. Vincent put his own palm on the leg to spread it even wider, then bent his head and licked at the skin of Lee’s perineum. His tongue, muscular and slick, delved deeper until it was inside Lee.
Nobody had done this to Lee before, and he wouldn’t have thought he’d enjoy it. But he did, astonished at how much that thrusting bit of flesh felt like a cock. “Please,” he moaned, although he wasn’t sure exactly what he was begging for.
Apparently Vincent knew, however. He stood and, with a motion indicating that Lee should remain still, strode to a little table near the curtain-covered window. He opened a drawer and returned with a small amber bottle. But he didn’t use it right away, instead spending a long time simply staring at Lee and licking his lips.
Lee felt… wanted. Desirable. It was a heady sensation and, unexpectedly, it made him feel powerful. He smiled and spread his knees a bit wider. “Please, master.”
That must have been the right thing to do, because Vincent immediately set to work with oil from the bottle, slicking his fingers and using them to prepare Lee. The oil had a strong scent, similar to but sweeter than the wine Lee had been drinking, and it warmed his body from within.
When Vincent finally entered him, he did so abruptly and with force, but since he’d done a thorough job readying Lee, the minor sting and ache felt good. Felt wonderful, in fact, and soon Lee was so awash in sensation that he squeezed his eyes shut.
“No,” Vincent said. “Look at me. See what you are doing and with whom.”
Even as he continued to plunge into Lee, Vincent opened his mouth in a feral grin, revealing a pair of long, sharp fangs. His eyes burned red as rubies. Lee knew then exactly who—or what—he’d allowed into his body.
Maybe he’d actually known for some time but had rejected it as impossible. There are moments, however, when a person must accept the truth—and this was one of them.
The reality enflamed Lee even more, making him writhe and clutch the blankets and raise his hips, meeting Vincent’s thrusts with his own. Lee howled long and hard, like the coyotes. He thought he might have heard them howling back.
And then he was exploding like a wartime bomb.
He regained consciousness with his head on a pillow and Vincent, now fully dressed, tenderly wiping him clean with a warm damp cloth. After patting him dry, Vincent pulled the covers to Lee’s chin. “Are you hungry? Thirsty?”
Lee shook his head. “Did you bite me?” He couldn’t feel any wounds, not even the small ones on his neck made earlier that day, but his nerves remained too electrified for him to be sure.