The Immortal Blood

Chapter 11

Adam took a cab home, not daring to take the car, drunk as he was. He felt confused and dizzy, maybe because of the alcohol, maybe because of how Valentine attacked him, he wasn't quite sure.
He had opened the door, happy to have taken the afternoon off: he had glimpsed in the mirror in the entrance and almost frightened himself by how disheveled he looked.
He had undressed furiously, throwing his clothes into the laundry basket and slipping straight into the shower. He stayed under the jet for more than half an hour, rubbing the point that Todd had violated in an attempt to erase it from his mind as well. He ended up bent over the toilet, his forehead touching the lid, in pieces.
His life was running out of his hands: since they had bought the haunted house it had been a continuous escalation of horrors, but what Todd had told him, that was, indeed, unbearable.
He had dried up, but had to take two more showers before he could get dressed: he continued to smell the vampire's scent on him, as if he had not only branded his skin but also managed to do it more deeply.
"Son of a bitch..." he had cursed, looking at the bruises he had left on his neck, purplish lines with the shape of his fingers. How the hell would he explain those to Cloe? He seemed to have just survived a violent assault. . . and in fact, he wasn't so far from the truth.
He had prepared a mocha of very black coffee, trying to regain at least some reasoning.
He'd been an idiot to get piss drunk: it had lowered his defenses and allowed Valentine to take advantage of him again . . . he felt stupidly guilty and like shit, even if the brute force of Todd would have been insurmountable even if he had been sober. He had rejected him with his whole body, and the vampire had only needed one arm to submit him. . .
With the coffee in his hand, he laid down in an armchair, closing his eyes, hoping that he wouldn't develop a fierce headache.
Todd Valentine's face had appeared behind his eyelids, his mouth distorted in that mocking grin as he masturbated against his stomach, then the warm and slimy feeling of the seed on his skin, and that revolting moan. . .
Adam had run to take his fourth shower, and to punish himself for his own idiocy, he had made it ice cold. He had assessed the situation too lightly and now he was paying the right price. That should served him as a lesson, because he was sure he would soon see Valentine again, not to mention the rest of his vampires' cult.
He needed to get ready.

Todd had watched Axel and Dimitri talking to two hot girls in the back of the club, smiling to himself.
He had let them coerced him to go out for drink, but his attention continued to return to his meeting with Adam, that afternoon.
He had practically uncovered Pandora's box, yet the boy had almost never batted an eyelid: either he was drunk, or totally stupid, or maybe he was, simply, equipped with a pair of iron balls. The third option did not bother him, in fact, and judging by how Adam had not shown signs of remission even while treating him as an inflatable doll, it could have been the most probable.
He had sighed, feeling the annoying need to see him again: it seemed that it was never enough, Adam was slipping under his skin, and he was not sure that it was a good thing.
Shrugging, he had headed out the back to escape the general chaos.
When a shadow had followed him, he was not surprised: a blond man had been staring at him since his arrival to the club, if he had something to offer, he was more than welcome.
He had forced the door of one of the closets used as temporary cellars, waiting in the dark and opening his zipper.
Not even a moment later, the silhouette of the stranger had stood out on the jamb, and from that angle it could almost have seemed Adam.
The guy got down on his knees and took him in his mouth, and even then he might have looked like Adam, if only he hadn't smelled so unpleasantly different.
He wasn't even particularly good at sucking, even Adam would have done a better job, but if anything, it was more than what he had achieved in the afternoon, and that was enough, or so at least he believed until he had felt his erection wobble dangerously in the other's throat.
"Fuck. . . " he had growled, disappointed: it was the first time it happened, it wasn't really like him. . . the stranger had continued to give all his might, but Todd had by then intuited that it wouldn't do him any good, even if he had let him do it anyway.
His head had ended elsewhere, distracting him, and he had seen Adam's angry expression as he dominated him, his wild rage when he had continued to strike him even when it had become useless. A thrill of interest had crawled into his pants and he had tried to imagine what would happen if instead of masturbating he had tried to use the boy in a more daring way. . .
The orgasm had hit him suddenly, like an unexpected thunderstorm, and he had filled the guy's mouth underneath him even before realizing it.
When he was finished, the man had settled and, apparently satisfied, left. Todd was disappointed to notice that he didn't look like Adam at all.
"Todd, where have you been?" Dimitri had met him on his way back to the bar to drown his bitterness in the Scotch. He'd never felt so depressed after getting laid.
"Hm, to the bathroom. " He had been reluctant to respond, quickly emptying his glass when he got there.
"Uh-huh, sure. . . I gotta assume the guy wasn't good?"
"Shut up, asshole. What about you, blonde or brunette?"
"Brunette. You mind going back alone?"
"Not at all. I was just thinking about leaving, anyway. I'll see you at the hotel. "
"All right. "
Todd had gone out on the street, walking for a few blocks, fighting the desire to show up at that late hour at Adam's house: it would have ended badly, and would have put him in danger.
With a hiss of frustration, he had marched to his room, lying on the bed to gaze pensively at the ceiling. Soon they would have moved, at last, and in the haunted house there would have been something to laugh about. . .