Blood and Fire


Stef and I left our Chapel Hill hotel room early that night. It was nine o'clock, and barely even dark. The sky to the west still glowed with a faint orangish light. A bit dangerous, but what the fuck, right? I never said 'no' to a bit of danger when I was human, I'm sure as hell not going to start now.

"So, Bri," Stef said, draping one long arm over my shoulders, "where is it we're going?"

I stuck my hand in the back pocket of the jeans that barely clung to his hips and snuggled close, inhaling his warm, spicy scent. "Little club called the Local 506. That adorable girl at the front desk said it's the best place to go hear local music."

"Good enough."

"There's more."

"Oh, yes?"

"Yeah." I stopped walking and stood on tiptoe to whisper in Stef's ear. "It's also a donor club."

Stef's eyes gleamed. "Good. I'm starved."

I suppose I should explain that. Stefan and I are vampires. Thom Yorke turned me only a few months ago, at the BDSM club where we're both members. Yes, Thom's a vampire. Yes, Jonny Greenwood is too. And yes, they're lovers. They fuck nearly as much as me and Stef.

First thing I did after I joined the ranks of the undead, of course, was turn Stef. What would eternity be without my Steffy? Thom was furious. But he got over it, just like I knew he would. He and Jonny became our mentors, and taught us how to be what we'd become. They're the ones who told me that the Local 506 was a donor club; that is, a place where vampires can go and find people willing to give their blood. Not that it's a huge hardship. A vampire's bite is literally orgasmic, unless it's forced. I hope never to have to do that. I only like pain when I'm the one getting it.

Thommy worried about us going to America alone, bless him. Brian, he said, you're still a baby vampire; you need my help. He said not one word about Stef needing help. I did not point out that Steffy was more of a baby even than me. It wouldn't have helped. Evidently even sadomasochistic vampires think I need looking after, while Stef can clearly handle anything.

It's actually more the opposite, but you can't tell people that. I'm little and delicate and pretty, and Stef is tall and regal and a bit menacing at times. Very few people ever try to look beyond that. Only a handful know how tender hearted Stef really is, or how many times I've gotten my hotheaded arse kicked making people regret hurting him.

Local 506 turned out to be just the sort of place I loved to go as a kid in high school, flashing my fake I.D. around and occasionally blowing a bouncer to get in. We paid our three dollars each to the dreadlocked young man at the door and walked into a club that was larger than it looked from the outside. The black walls were painted with colorful murals, and the dim, smoky light played over a fair crowd of hippies and Goths. They all looked young and sweet and delicious. My mouth watered.

The shine in Stef's eyes told me he felt it too. "I can smell them." He pushed me against a black metal pole near one wall, shoving his thigh between my legs. "Fuck, it's turning me on."

I reached up and tugged his face down for a kiss. "Me too." I bit his bottom lip and lapped at the drop of blood that welled up. A wave of pleasure washed through me. I felt its echo in Steffy's mind. "Wonder if we'd get kicked out if you fucked me across the bar?"

Stef giggled. He's so outrageously cute when he does that, it kills me. "Probably. Funny, I seem to remember fucking you just before we left to come here."

"You did, yes. Your cum's still leaking out of my arse, actually." I rubbed my groin against his thigh.

"Oh, dear. That'll stain the leather for sure." He plucked sadly at my black leather trousers.

"Don't care. I like how the leather feels against my bum when it's all sticky with Steffy juice." I tweaked his nipple through his sheer black shirt. "Want you to keep my arse nice and stretched and sticky all the time."

"Insatiable little bastard."


He laughed, cupped my cheek in his big, warm palm, and kissed me, very gently. "I love you, Brian."

Oh, god. That look in his eyes, hot and sweet and hungry. "And I love you, my Stefan. Mine."

"Yours. Always."

He held me, still astride his thigh, my arms locked around his neck, and we lost ourselves in a deep, deep kiss. The world fell away, the noise of the crowded bar fading to static as our souls intertwined along with our tongues.

On the far side of death and rebirth, every touch, every kiss, every joining of our physical selves, becomes a melding of mind and heart and soul as well. Oddly enough, it actually makes it easier to be apart from one another. Because we're never truly apart. I can feel Stefan in the core of me, all the time. I feel so completely at peace, knowing a part of him lives inside me, as a part of me lives in him.

We were so caught up in each other that we didn't even notice the first band take the stage. We sure as hell noticed when they started playing, though. It sounded for all the world like a guitar would if it were alive and being tortured with exquisite pleasure. That probably doesn't make any sense, but it's the best I can do. There's absolutely no explaining the crazed electric shriek that tore from that instrument.

Stef and I both looked up at the same time. Through the heads of the crowd that had thickened around us, I could just make out a slender, black-clad figure at the mic, wild ebony curls falling over a milky pale face.

"Hi," the figure said. "Thanks to all of y'all for coming out tonight. We're Blood And Fire, I hope you like our show."

The boy's soft voice tasted honey sweet on my tongue, his words thickened by a faint Southern accent. I looked up at Stef; he smiled.

"Young," Stef said, in answer to my unspoken question. I could hear him just fine, in spite of the music that screeched its delightfully twisted rhythm from the speakers. "Must be at least twenty-one, or he couldn't play here. But no more than that. And awfully fucking pretty." He laced his fingers through mine and started pulling me toward the front. "Come on, let's get you closer to the stage. You don't want to miss this one."

I smiled at Stef's back. He always takes such good care of me.

The bar was crowded, but not so packed that we couldn't get through. And no one seemed to mind us cutting. Stef found us a spot at the front, toward the side so that I could see but he wouldn't block anyone else's view. That's my Stef. So sweet and caring toward everyone, even the ones he feeds on. Especially them.

I lifted my face to Stef's. He kissed me, light and quick, caressing my cheek, then wound his arms around my waist and held me against his chest. I leaned back against him and focused my attention on the stage.

"Oh, fuck me," I muttered under my breath. God, but this boy practically making love to the mic was fucking gorgeous.

Those disheveled curls, long in front and shorter in back, brushed a wide, sensual mouth and delicate jaw, and veiled a pair of big, dark eyes that promised sin in the dark. He threw his head back and wailed into the mic, that soft voice becoming powerfully sexual. Only Stef's arms around me stopped me from jumping on stage and sinking my fangs into that white throat. I wanted to lick my way down the trail of dark hair over that flat belly, down to the visible bulge in those snug black trousers. And the way the boy moved... Christ. He writhed like a snake, wickedly graceful.

It actually took me several minutes to notice the tattoo. A thick black band circling one slender wrist. I reached out with my mind, and knew that Stef had seen it too.

The sign of a blood donor. We'd just found our evening meal.


Blood And Fire's set lasted an eon, yet ended much too quickly. Time itself paused to watch the boy on stage. Everything about him bewitched me: his unusual voice, his way his body translated the primitive rhythms of their music, his beauty that managed to be both innocent and blatantly sexual.

He spotted me and Stef right away. How he knew what we were, I have no idea. But he clearly did. His eyes locked with mine; he smiled in a way that made me ache and slowly licked the inside of his tattooed wrist. I ignored the wild screaming of the girls in the audience. I knew that gesture was for me and my Stef. Telling us he was ours. I smiled back at him, running the tip of my tongue over my fangs. Those dark eyes grew heavy.

He came right to us once the set was over and the band had taken down their equipment. That slinky, sexy stroll made my cock swell and rub deliciously against the leather encasing it. I hadn't worn underwear; I never do when I wear leather. Especially now. Enhanced sensation is an unexpected but thoroughly delightful side effect of vampirism.

"I got a place down the street," the boy said, without so much as a hello. "We can go there."

I felt Stef's amusement in my mind, mixed with a desire nearly as strong as my own. But for Steffy, it wasn't a sexual desire this time. He just wanted the boy's blood. Disappointing, but not a huge problem. Wouldn't be the first time he'd contented himself with simply watching.

"Can't we get to know each other a bit first?" I reached out and took one of the boy's long, delicate hands in both of mine. "I'm Brian. Lovely to meet you."

"Yeah, I know who you are. Brian Molko and Stefan Olsdal. I'm a big fan." God, but the child had a lovely voice.

"What's your name, pretty?" I stepped a little closer, keeping hold of his hand, and gave him my very best sexy smile. Those sweet lips parted, his breath running out in a soft sigh. God, I'm good.

"Damien," the boy said.

Stef laughed. "That's not your real name."

Damien's eyes cut from me to Steffy and back again. He grinned. "Nope."

"Why won't you tell us your real name? Don't you trust us?" I pouted at him.

"Any reason I should?" He took a long swallow out of the water bottle he held, eyes never leaving mine.

"Absolutely not." I gave him an evil grin. "All right, Damien. Let's go to your place then."

At that moment another boy wandered over. I vaguely recognized him as the band's drummer. I hadn't noticed before, though, that these boys were twins. The drummer's hair was straight rather than curly, but other than that they looked exactly alike. There was something about this one, though; something that screamed 'sweet and innocent' in the same way that his brother radiated that dark sexuality.

And, he had the same tattoo.

Oh my.

"K... I mean, Damien?" The drummer's eyes regarded Stef and me with naked want. "Um... are you... uh..."

Damien turned, wound an arm around his brother's neck, and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. Oh, fuck, but that was hot. My cock filled right up, pressing against my zip.

"Yeah," Damien said. "But you don't have to if you don't want. You can go stay with Benji or something."

"I wanna come with you." The drummer's eyes flicked up to Stefan's face, and he blushed. The boy, not Stef. "Can I have Stefan?"

Oh, now that was adorable. I could feel Stef's interest, and not just in my mind. He's always been a sucker for the innocent little pretty boys. He asked without words, and I answered in kind, and our plans were set. Me and Damien, Stef and this sweet little creature who clearly had a huge crush on him.

Damien smiled indulgently at his brother. "Okay, baby. Whatever you want." He didn't ask us. I suppose it wasn't hard to see how we felt about it.

They kissed again, a chaste brush of lips that nevertheless made my dick throb, then turned nearly identical eager expressions to me and Stef. They clung together, arms around each other.

"This is my brother, Michael," Damien said. "Show them your tattoo, Michael."

Michael obediently held up his wrist, displaying the band of black ink. As if we hadn't already seen.

"Michael. Like the archangel." I smiled at the boy. "I suppose that's not your real name either?"

"Does it matter?" Damien's smoldering eyes challenged me. Fuck. I couldn't wait to tear his clothes off, spread those sleek thighs, and have him.

I let my lust shine in my eyes. "Not in the least."

Stef chuckled against my back. "Shall we go, then?"

Damien kissed Michael's forehead, then pulled away and took my hand. "Yeah. Come on."


I'd have thought a pair of quite young local musicians would live in rather squalid surroundings. I sure as hell did at their age. But no. These lovely brothers lived together in a cozy little loft apartment with brick walls and hardwood floors and a vaulted ceiling. Tremendous floor-to-ceiling windows lined one entire wall. Thankfully, the building was off the main street, on a narrow little ally, and only a faint light leaked in. Michael switched on a small lamp. It gave off a soft golden glow through its amber shade.

"Make yourselves comfortable," Damien said, gesturing toward a low, cushiony sofa and huge overstuffed chair. "You want a drink?"

"Yes." I grabbed his arm and pulled him to me. "But first, I'd quite like to fuck you."

Damien's eyes burned. He buried his fists in my hair and kissed me hard.

I knew instantly that he'd done this before. I mean obviously he'd given his blood before, but not every donor does anything more than that. Damien had. Quite a lot, I thought. His tongue flicked around my fangs with expert precision.

My fingers found the buttons on his shirt and started flipping them open before I even realized I was doing it. I twisted one hard little nipple, and he moaned, and I had to have him.

"Where?" I shoved the shirt of his shoulders and ran my hands over his smooth, perfect skin.

"Couch," he said without taking his lips from mine. "Michael'll take Stefan upstairs."

I hadn't noticed an upstairs. My brain tried to look around as Damien pulled me down onto the couch. I got a glimpse of Michael in Stef's arms at the top of a spiral staircase in the corner, getting thoroughly tongue kissed, before my cock ordered me to give my attention back to Damien.

The boy actually managed to get my shirt off and my trousers halfway down while kissing me. Lying down, yet. I liked that, because I did not want to take my tongue out of his mouth. Kissing him was a head-spinning experience. He tasted like whiskey and need. The taste of raging hormonal youth. Reminded me of myself at that age. Hell, it reminded me of myself now.

I pulled away from Damien long enough to yank my shoes off, wrestle the sweaty leather trousers off my legs, and divest him of his trousers and boots. I sat up on my knees between his open thighs and looked down at him. God, he was lovely. Pale and slender and flushed with desire, those wild curls shadowy against his white skin. He took his own thick cock in his hand and stroked it, staring up at me, swollen lips parted, eyes heavy.

"Fuck me, Brian," he said in that honey sweet voice. "Want you real bad."

Oh. Oh, yes. Normally, I don't top. I'm such a natural bottom, it's sort of ridiculous. But it's different when I take blood. Nothing else in this world quite compares to the feeling of the vein giving way under my fangs, filling my mouth with hot blood while my cock's buried to the root in someone's mouth or arse or cunt.

I took Damien's hand off his cock and brushed my lips over the pulse frantically jumping in his tender little wrist. His palm smelled like dick and pre-come, spiced with sweat. And underneath, the blood. God, that smell. Hot and fierce and so fucking alive.

"Lube?" I bent and sucked one rose-colored nipple.

He arched, stretched, opened the drawer of the little table at the end of the sofa, and handed me a tube of lube. He drew his knees up to his chest.

"Please, Brian," he moaned. "Need your cock in me."

I didn't answer. Couldn't. I got a handful of lube, reached between his legs, and slicked his hole. He made the most gorgeous noises when my fingers slipped inside him, stretching him. That tight little hole opened right up for me, taking three fingers to the hilt. I pulled my fingers out, and watched his face as my cock slowly penetrated him.

"Oh... oh... ooooohhhhh.... Bri... an... yes... yes..."

His pleading moans drove me wild. I leaned down and captured that lovely mouth with mine, my tongue mimicking with his mouth what my dick was doing to his arse. He wrapped arms and legs around me, his body winding vine-like around mine, encasing me in his living heat.

My mind reached for Stef, to share this joy with him. He welcomed me, opening his mind to mine. I caught a glimpse in my mind's eye of Stef, naked and beautiful, on his back on the bed with Michael astride him. The boy's head was thrown back, mouth open in rapture, fingers digging into Stef's chest. The sight increased my excitement exponentially. I felt Stef react similarly to the knowledge of me fucking Damien.

This is the one thing that, now that I have it, I could never live without. That connection with my love, minds and souls inextricably intertwined, even when we're physically apart. It's an intimacy greater than any mere human can ever know.

Because we're no longer human. We're something more now. We're stronger. Better. Feeding off the very essence of these mortal creatures, taking a bit of their ephemeral lives to feed our own. And giving them unimaginable pleasure in return.

Pleasure. Yes. My thoughts turned from the philosophy of vampirism - during sex, odd, I know, but my mind is so much quicker now - back to the boy underneath me. His cock was clutched in my fist, though I couldn't remember doing that. I wasn't complaining. I loved the feel of him hard and hot and silky against my palm, dripping on my hand as I pumped him.

I pushed up on my other hand and looked down between us. The sight of my cock pounding that sweet arse, his hole stretched tight, sent the pressure inside me spiraling up and up. He was close too, I could feel it. I hooked my arm around him and sat up on my knees, with his body still wound around mine.

"Beautiful boy." I nuzzled his neck. "Let me."

A shudder ran through him. "Yeah. Now, now!"

Oh, yes. Yes. I licked at the pulse thudding in his throat, felt the way his body tensed around me in anticipation. He wanted this so badly. His need scented the air like a heady perfume. I threaded my fingers through his soft, damp curls and sank my fangs into the big vein in his throat. The blood leapt into my mouth like lava, and I drank it down.

"Oh, oh god!" Damien cried out as his orgasm ripped through him. His body tightened around my cock, and I came hard inside him. Stef's release flooded my mind at the same time, flavoured with the pure bliss of sweet, sweet Michael coming on Stef's stomach. I could almost taste his blood along with Damien's.

We clung together, sharing a blood and sex flavored kiss while the intense pleasure ebbed. When my cock began to soften inside him, I pulled out and we lay side by side, hands exploring each other as we kissed. After a while, he pulled back and smiled lazily at me.

"I love that," he said, his voice thick with satisfaction.

"What? The blood-taking, or the fucking?" I smoothed the hair from his face and kissed his sweaty forehead.

He laughed. "Both. Like, at the same time. Like you just did. Nothing better than that."

"I love it too. You taste... I don't know, really. Young, and sharp, and sort of dangerous." I nuzzled his flushed cheek, kissed his jaw. "I can't explain."

"Don't try, then. Just let it be what it is." Those long, graceful fingers raked through my hair, caressed my back. His dark eyes glowed with that in-the-moment content that very, very few seem capable of. "Just hold me for a while, and let this time be what it wants to be."

I smiled at him. "You're a remarkable young man."

"I must be, or you wouldn't have had me." He touched my lips, so gently. "Kiss me, Brian."

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