D/s Story Collection

A Bloody New Life

 [ Vampire prompt: Lazarus and Olyver] WIP

     Muffled cries erupted from the dark crevasse between two disheveled buildings. A life was being taken, at the exact same time a new life was being born. A broken boy struggled against a group of pale attackers. He was underfed and weak, due to his life thus far on the streets, begging for change and scrounging for scraps. It was a dangerous life, but the only kind he'd ever been allowed to live. Being kicked around for others' amusement was not something he was unfamiliar with, though these men went further than he was prepared for. They drained him of energy before they drained him of his blood. He gasped for air as they held him down.

The darkness took him.

     Coughing erupted from his body as he shuttered awake, moments after his attackers had their fun and moved on. He was groggily aware he was near death, but he was too numb to be afraid of the fact. He wriggled on the ground, every breath caused a sharp pain in his lungs. He was starving... more than normal. He dragged himself to lie on his stomach and found himself face to face with a shiny puddle of liquid on the dirty concrete beneath him. He had lost his dignity long, long ago, despite only being nineteen, and he wasn't about to get it back now. He lapped greedily at the puddle. Somehow, the salty, coppery substance quenched his newfound thirst, but he was much too out of it to realize what the blood before him was.

     After licking at the ground, he found himself sitting up from the sidewalk against a fence a few blocks away, not clear on how he got from point A to point B. He figured he was in and out of it since he just quite literally had the life beaten out of him. He huddled up to himself for the remainder of the night, just out of the way enough not to cause any unwanted attention but not too out of the way he wasn't unnoticed by a kindhearted passerby that granted him the occasional dollar or scrap of food. He had settled in to try and get some sleep when he caught a whiff of something unfamiliar. He tried to place a finger on the scent, but was unable to describe it as anything more than an expensive perfume that somehow drew him in. He looked up to investigate just in time to see the coattails of a tall gentleman. Even from behind, Olyver knew his dress was strange. No one has worn coattails in the streets since, what, the 1800's?

     Seemingly at the same time, the man noticed him. He took a step back to look down at the boy. The infamous Vampire Lazarus had, until now, thought he was one of the only vampires left in this country, at least. The feeling of another bloodhunter surprised him, and he was not one to be surprised often. He wore a velvet coat with a high collar to hide his face, and a matching velvet top hat, which he gripped with a gloved hand. He gave the boy another good sniff, and with that he became positive this... street rat... was a vampire. He sighed. Oh, how the vampire clan have fallen.
     Olyver, on the other hand, was terrified of this odd man's yellow-eyed stare. He felt like he was being stripped down to the bones with his piercing gaze. The previous beating made him unready for another attack so soon, but he mentally prepared himself for the worst anyway. His back was to a fence which he could try and climb if this guy came at him, but he was not convinced he could make it over in time to escape... His thoughts drifted as he was jerked back to those eyes. After the initial reaction of fear, he felt strangely allured.

     Lazarus held out a gloved hand in greeting. Olyver flinched. Odd. A vampire would never show such naked fear in this way, even if he knew who Lazarus was. If he wasn't one hundred percent sure this boy was a bloodhunter with his acute awareness, he would be convinced of his humanism. He crouched down instead. "Hello," He began in lieu of a handshake.

"C-can.. I.. help you?" Olyver replied, determined to keep his voice from shaking. He had at least three broken bones, but his experience has taught him he has to keep his walls up. Even if someone seems sincere in helping, not that this man did. Despite this, he couldn't seem to shake the feeling of security this strange guy brought.

"I was hoping so. What's your name, boy?" He inquired. He was astounded by this reaction. It was so uncommon among their kind. 

"O...lyver." He gulped, miraculously keeping his voice steady.

"Well, Olyver," Olyver involuntarily shivered at the sound of his name in this guy's mouth. "I must say I'm surprised to meet another vampire, especially so close to myself. We have not met before, have we?"

     Olyver stopped. A what? "Vampires aren't..." He couldn't bring himself to finish and his realizations clicked into place. That must have been blood on the floor. His hunger quenched by a liquid, the pale attackers, the loss of feeling in all his limbs. He only now noticed the warmth in his body never came back after he woke up from losing consciousness. Not to mention, if vampires were real, this man in front of him was the spitting image of one. 

"Yes?" Lazarus tilted his head. He was having a revelation at that time as well, coincidentally. He recognized this denial, and the dawning realization. This vampire was just turned. How recently can't be known, but his unawareness would explain how hungry he looked. If he didn't know he needed blood, he would have been trying to eat food for the past weeks, or months, to no avail. Lazarus got another feeling he was unaccustomed to. Something paternal? The only clear emotion he had was that some strange part of him begged to take this boy home. This night was beginning to be quite the adventure, he thought to himself with a small smile. 

"Aren't... real." He finished, but the last word exited his mouth as a ghost. Both of them knew the statement was false. 

"Why don't you come with me, Olyver." Lazarus suggested. He offered his hand again, and this time Olyver took it. He was rattled to his core with this new truth, and it was taking its time to sink in. He barely had control of his own body. Some part of him knew that whatever the circumstance with him and this other... vampire- the word felt estranged in his mind and mouth now- had to be better than his previous plans of sleeping on the streets. Caution became an unattainable idea as he shadowed the man, hand in hand. Time passed without passing and before he came to, they were at the doors to an impressive yet quite old mansion. The large double doors stood tall before them, but their grandeur only hit Olyver like a wall. Lazarus was used to it. He unlocked the doors with a similarly old key and swung them open.

"Domus accipit," Lazarus announced with a wide sweep of the arm. Latin for 'The house welcomes.' Like you, dear reader, this went over Olyver's head.
     It quickly became obvious this phrase was not meant for Olyver as a black mass rushed towards the two. The door slammed behind him, leaving him to press his back to the door in terror. His fear was met with a slew of mewls, tiny pink noses, and wide yellow eyes. The mass was nothing more than a frighteningly large number of black cats. He relaxed slightly and let them get a good sniff off him. Some began to purr as others lost interest and went to greet Lazarus.

"They like you. I'm glad." Lazarus smiled as he gave away a few pets to the nearest cats.

"You have a lot of cats." Olyver stated. That sounded stupid. He cursed himself in his head, even though he was still feeling rather out of it. 

"Yes, I do." Lazarus replied, slipping a smile at him as the cats dissipated. "First thing's first," He began, but Olyver stopped listening. 
     He was caught up in the beauty of the mansion's interior. He felt more grounded as he was faced with the long, hallway-like foyer. Single doors lined both walls that met at the back wall, forming a double staircase up to another set of double doors similar to the ones they just went though. A blood-red carpet rolled out before them, and as he looked closer, he realized what he thought was an intricate pattern was just several layers of black cat hair. The room smelled musty mixed with what he's recently realized to be the tantalizing smell of blood. It was emanating from one of the doors nearby, but he wasn't able to bring himself to attempt to open that door yet. Not to mention he was afraid to simply move a few steps forward, much less open a door. He snapped back to reality as Lazarus caught his gaze.

"Oh, uh... you were saying?" 

"I asked if you were hungry." His lidded yellow eyes were much warmer than when they first met less than an hour ago. 

"I guess-" He was cut off suddenly.