Vampire LaCour's 2nd Coming Ch. 10bysr71plt©
Emile had just been renewed, and he was back outside a gay bar on Bourbon Street at 2 A.M. during Mardi Gras, not a bit out of place draped in his black silk cape, watching the entrance to the bar. He only had four days to pull this plan off. But if he did, he would be solving two problems. He was on entirely new territory, however; he had never tried anything like this in his entire 462 years. But he was getting desperate on two counts. He needed help maintaining his affairs and he needed someone to talk to and share with—desperately.
He stood there, watching the entrance to the bar. The plan needed to be set in motion tonight, when he didn't need to be fed, if it had any chance of success. And then success came swiftly to him. A group of bikers swept up and parked their big cycles right in front of the door. They were a boisterous group, full of laughter and back pounding and dirty jokes. They loudly addressed each other by name, and Emile singled out the one being called Gage for this brave experiment.
He was a mountain of a man. A blond Nordic God in his early twenties, decked out in black leather and cockiness, a cockiness that seemed justified by his physique; nearly six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders, a deep chest, with deep cleavage, and narrow hips. He wore only a black leather vest on top and had on tight leather pants below that clung to powerful leg muscles and a big basket. He was heavily hirsute, but the hair was so light colored, that you'd almost have to run your hand over him to know it was there. Tattoos highlighted and accentuated various parts of his anatomy, and he had small rings in one ear, one nipple, and his navel. But above all that, he actually sounded literate in his bantering with his companions.
On instinct, he turned and was caught in Emile's glare while his friends were chaining up their bikes. Emile used all of the power he had in his eyes to trap the young man, to mesmerize him with his violet eyes, and to hold him there. And his power was sufficient. As the young man's friends started to bustle into the gay bar, he turned and waved them away, telling them he'd be in, in a minute.
When they were gone, Emile walked up to him.
"Excuse me," Emile asked nonchalantly. "Aren't you Howard Veal? Don't you work at an accounting firm?" Emile was running on raw instinct and a prayer here. He knew of no indirect way to get the information he needed.
"No, sorry," the Nordic god responded. It was plain to see that he was interested, though, and completely caught in the power of Emile's violet eyes. He showed no hurry to break off the conversation. "You got me on the accounting—a graduated in accounting from Tulane—but I've got a bike chopping business. I don't work for anyone else as an accountant. I like it that way."
"Sorry, but you do look like him," Emile said. But to himself, he was thinking, "Perfect. Perfect on both needs." But what he said out loud was, "He's a big strong, and what do they say now, hunk. Just like you. And I've fantasized about giving him—or someone like him—a very good time."
The young man didn't back away from this. Emile had fed just the previous night. He was in superb condition and in highly desirable looks and shape.
"I have a house out on the river," Emile said, holding the young man's eyes with the strength of his own. "Would you like to give me a ride out to my house? I could return the favor on a ride."
It was Mardi Gras, and Gage would not have come to this gay bar at 2 A.M. if he hadn't been looking for a good time. "Yes. Yes, I would," was the answer. "My name is Gage."
Emile straddled the cycle behind Gage, his cape still draped around his body, his arms lightly encircling Gage's bare abdomen, and they roared off toward the banks of the Mississippi to the east of the city.
When they were outside the city limits, driving down the dark and deserted road, Emile unfurled his cape and nuzzled into Gage's back. The blond giant almost fell off his bike, but he recovered quickly and throttled up to shorten the miles to the riverside. The man behind him was bare to the waist and was pressing a magnificent chest into his shoulder blades, and although Gage had seen that the man had been wearing black leather pants under the cape, those pants didn't cover his cock and balls. Gage could feel a big, thick cock of at least a foot in length snaking up the small of his back, and he could clearly feel balls the size of tennis balls. This was going to be a great night; he really got off on monster cocks, he himself being horse hung.
The man was already making love to him before they got to his plantation. He had his face buried in Gage's neck and was kissing and licking his throbbing artery there, driving him crazy. The man's long slender fingers were roaming around his chest and belly. It felt like he had long fingernails too, but the man was just dragging them around and teasing his flesh. He wasn't doing any harm. Then one hand came down and stroked his basket.
Gage was ready to explode when they entered the gates to the plantation and drove right up to in front of the steps leading up to the Greek Rival mansion. He kicked both kickstands down to hold the bike firmly in place. He then arched his back, threw an arm around the back of Emile's neck and searched for Emile's mouth with his.
"No, it wouldn't be wise to do that yet," Emile said mysteriously, "First the cocks."
Sure thing, Gage thought. That cock is what I really want too. He flipped himself around on the seat of the bike so that he was facing Emile and pushed the man down and away from him across the back of the bike with his big hand pressed on the magnificent chest. His other hand went straight for Emile's cock.
Hot damn--at least twelve inches and not even hard yet! The most he'd ever taken was twelve inches. He couldn't wait to go for a record. Keeping one hand wrapped around that cock, he lowered his chest onto Emile's, searching again for Emile's mouth but dropping to his big and hard nipples when Emile turned his head. He then just continued kissing and tonguing down that wonderfully developed body until he got to that cock. It was so big that he got it into his mouth with great difficulty, but he did manage to give the man good head, and the man was loving it like he rarely got it. And maybe he didn't. Most dudes would just faint away dead when encountering a cock like that.
Gage prepared himself for a gusher at the back of his throat as he felt Emile preparing to explode, but he was surprised when Emile pushed him off and down on his back stretching up to the handle bars when the crisis came. Emile shot off on Gage's belly and chest and up to his chin in several spouts that were beyond anything Gage had seen before. And then Emile immediately had his tongue running all over Gage's body, cleaning up every trace of that precious semen, not letting Gage have any, not knowing what would happen to Gage if he did get some. He stripped off Gage's pants then—he left the vest on and just worked under it as needed—and he felt a little thrill when he saw that Gage was uncut and had a small gold ring pierced through his mushroom cap that appeared and disappeared as Emile played with the foreskin.
Emile conducted a mouth and tongue and touching-but-not-tearing teeth tour of Gage's torso, paying particular attention to various tattoos and those intriguing ear, nipple, and navel rings. The tour arrived at mouth play on that foreskin and the tantalizing ring there and the swallowing and pumping of Gage's cock. He was gathering more strength and vital juices from his young lover, or who he was trying to maneuver into being his young lover and something more than a one-night fuck, slice, suck, and discard object. One problem Emile was trying to solve with this ambitious plan of his was the development of a long-term companion. Someone he could come home to; someone who would accept him for what he was and who would—and could—share pleasure with him. And "could" might be the operable word. And Emile also needed a replacement for Lamont Breaux, someone he could trust, someone who could convert gold into usable goods without attracting attention. Emile was in whole new territory here; he had no idea where the balance could be between Gage as a companion and Gage as a rejuvenating meal.
While Emile had been sucking Gage off, he had let his long slender fingers and those ever-so-sharp nails glide along Gage's torso, stroking and kneading and scratching, but trying to be careful not to so much as nick a thing.
"Fuck me. Fuck me," Gage was whispering. "Put that luscious cock in me and fuck me." He reached down for Emile's cock and exclaimed with both admiration and fright, "Oh my God, it's grown. Oh, God, I want it to grow in me. Fuck me!"
"You fuck me first," Emile said, as he rose up and then laid back, stretched to the end of the bike's fender.
Gage leaned forward and reached for Emile's cock, but Emile encased it with his own hand and pulled it up onto his belly. "No, I said for you to fuck me first. I'll handle this myself. You are to do as I say. It is very important that you let me lead. Your very life might depend on it. Suck my asshole and then fuck me."
Gage dutifully stripped the black leather pants off Emile's legs and threw them aside. He held Emile's wonderfully sculptured legs up and out and went for his asshole with his mouth. When he had Emile prepared there, he slid along the seat with his hips and entered the other man. Bubbles of pleasure popped off in his head as he slid up Emile's canal. Emile also seemed to be enjoying being plowed by someone as big as Gage, especially the drag of the gold ring across his prostate and against the walls of his ass canal. Six inches in, it was like some suction cup dropped around the rim of Gage's tool and both pulled it farther in, a good nine or ten inches, and sucked and pumped it, causing him to ejaculate much sooner than he wanted, but producing far more cum than he usually did.
When his cock was released, and he had pulled out, Gage began to beg to be fucked again.
"Not now, Later maybe. But now you can kiss me."
Gage quite willingly allowed himself to be laid back against the handlebars again for Emile to give him a deep, saliva exchanging kiss. Gage felt himself going slightly numb and loosing the capability in his limbs to receive a coherent command from his brain. Emile's kiss dropped to Gage's neck and, for an ever-short time, Emile sank his teeth in and sucked. He didn't know where the tolerance levels were between enslavement and death, so he would take this slowly. Still it was very good that he didn't need to be fed tonight. Perhaps he could maintain control over his instincts.
Despite his reasoning, Emile had to fight hard with himself to pull away from Gage at that point, but he did so. He got off the cycle, picked up his pants, and put his hand out toward the young man he hoped was becoming his protégé.
"Come, Gage. I will show you to your room."
Without raising a question, Gage dreamily rose from the seat of the cycle and followed Emile up the marble steps and into the old mansion.
On the next evening, after dark, Gage was dutifully waiting for Emile, sitting on the end of his bed, completely nude. Emile entered the room, also stark naked, and walked up to Gage. They exchanged deep looks, and Gage took Emile's huge tool in his hands and mouth and made love to the cock and balls. Gage swirled his tongue and lips all over the bulbous knob of Emile's cock and ran his tongue up and down the throbbing vein running down the underside of the rod, and then got his mouth around the head, with difficulty, and slowly churned the cock back and forth, swallowing as much of it as he could. Emile was so lost in the pleasure of the expert blow job that he didn't disconnect before Gage had gotten a good taste of some of his precum. Electric flashes of light were popping off in Gage's head, and he could feel his muscles expanding, getting ever harder.
Emile extracted his cock, not noticing how Gage had slowly bulked up before his eyes. He dropped to his knees and took Gage by the thighs and tipped him up and pushed his legs out and started rimming and tonguing his asshole. After he had opened and moistened Gage's hole, he stood and, with great difficulty, rolled a condom on the end of his cock.
"Oh, you don't have to do that for me," Gage said.
"It's for me," Emile answered. He had no intention of sharing his precious cum with his lover in training. And then he pushed a funnel-shaped object onto his cock, ran straps around his waist and through his legs and tied them off at the small of his back.
"What in the hell?" Gage exclaimed.
"This . . .?" Emile. "This is for you, my sweet, young, very nice piece of ass. This will keep me from hurting you too much. It ensures that no more than thirteen inches can go into you. And there's a bonus for you. See, right here on the edge of the funnel? Studs, rubbery studs, with rubber spikes, that will give your ass rim an extra little attention when I get that deep. As you can see, I'm also putting on kid-leather gloves to make sure that I don't scratch you too deeply with these nails of mine when we are in the throes of passion."
Gage didn't care about the gloves. He cared about being fucked deeply. "But thirteen inches? I was rather hoping for . . ."
"More? Well, I am too, but we'll take this slowly. Again, I don't want to waste you."
"Waste me? What an interesting way to put it."
"Yes, well, over on your side."
Gage did as Emile commanded him, and, when Emile draped Gage's right leg up his torso and entered him in a side split and slowly pushed in and pumped and churned to an eleven-inch depth. He was stroking Gage's cock, and when Gage was ready to ejaculate, Emile withdrew and went to the cock with his mouth, drinking in all of Gage's manly juices. Emile's physique bulked up noticeably and his cock jumped a couple of inches longer and became thicker. Then Emile turned Gage on his other side and side split him from there. Gage was bucking and writhing and moaning when Emile had gotten to a thirteen-inch depth, and Gage fairly came off the bed when those spiked studs on Emile's funnel cock ring latched onto the rim of his asshole.
He screamed in pleasure, brought his leg off of Emile's torso, pushed the older man to the floor, straddled him from above and took over the pumping duties. He lowered his mouth to Emile's and they engaged in a long, lingering kiss, during which Emile shoot his load, bursting an already-overstretched condom and sending his load deep into Gage. As Gage was growing drowsy and losing his orientation from the venom in Emile's saliva, the load of cum exploding and bathed his insides, sending electric shocks of pleasure and power through him that he'd never experienced before. He could feel his insides expanding, developing superhuman form and strength.
After Emile had laid his young lover up on the bed and started to clean himself up, he noticed the split condom and went into a panic. "What have I done?" he wondered. "Will he still be alive tomorrow night?"
But Gage was still alive the next night and they repeated their love making. And, as careful as he was trying to be, when Gage was blowing Emile, Emile once again donated some of his precious precum to a Gage who was growing hungrier for what Emile had, but a clever Gage, who was playing docile and cooperative to sustain Emile's confidence.
On the third night, while Emile was fucking Gage and Gage was screaming for the fuck, Emile gave Gage his proposal—to remain with him and be his lover and his financial manager—and the younger man accepted with enthusiasm and alacrity. He didn't even flinch when Emile told him exactly what Emile was and how he maintained himself. This had been the dangerous edge of this whole experiment—or so Emile thought—and the balance between whether Gage lived or died.
The funnel was coming loose and Emile went up on his knees in the bed and began to restrap it. Gage had proven to be so good at taking big cock that the funnel now was set at fourteen and a half inches. But as Emile was fumbling with the straps, Gage just laughed, grabbed the funnel, threw it aside, and drew Emile into him. Although the second night the condom Emile had used had held, tonight Gage had drawn Philippe's cock deep inside himself before Emile had had the chance to sheath himself. Gage wrapped his arms around Emile's torso and his legs around his buttocks and held Emile inside him, writhing and bucking to encourage the growing of Emile's cock inside him. And grow it did, to seventeen inches before starting to throw off fireworks-producing flecks of precum, which strengthened Gage's canal and set his canal muscles into contractions and churnings—which only excited Emile's cock more. Emile was almost twenty inches in, marveling at the depth and width that Gage was able to handle, before he gathered all of his strength and threw off the bonds of Gage's arms and legs and slid out of Gage just in time to cum all over the younger man's belly and chest.
Gage laughed and hooted all the time Emile was frantically licking off his hard torso, searching for every vestige of his magic semen, not wanting Gage to get any by accident.
When he was finished, Emile looked up into Gage's laughing eyes. He could have sworn that Gage had light-blue eyes, but now they were darker, almost a shade of . . . violet.
The next evening, Emile wanted to go on the prowl. He didn't fully need to yet; he'd found that snacking on Gage kept him in trim better and that he probably could go longer without an extensive feeding now and would never degenerate as much as he had been doing between renewals. Now he could cruise without the nagging need to reach a conclusion within a certain time frame. But tonight he felt ready for another snack beyond Gage and had ordered his chauffeur to bring the limousine around, even though, if everything went well, he wouldn't actually need the car. It was time to put the second part of his plan into operation.
When the chauffeur started around the car to open the door for Emile, Emile met him behind the trunk.
The man had to go. He was connected to the Lamont Breaux past. He knew too much and he wasn't bright enough to be trusted to keep silent. He also had suggested that he should have a hefty raise, leaving no doubt in Emile's mind where that road led. The man had to go. Luckily he was a hot Latin with a very good body. So Emile could at least enjoy the send off.
"I'm sorry, Ricardo," Emile said to him. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to let you go now. Meet my new chauffeur." He turned, and there was Gage, very nicely decked out in a chauffeur's uniform.
The young Argentine turned to face Emile with shock and confusion in his face.
He barely saw the flashing nails as they descended on him. Emile pushed the young Latino down on the trunk of the limo. His cape billowed out and around them, as his slashing teeth went to the young man's carotid artery in the hollow of his neck, sank, and drank deeply. He was injecting sedating saliva as quickly as he was ingesting the hot Latin's blood. At the same time, he was slicing at the Argentine's shirt and pants with those long, sharp nails. The young man's struggles quickly dissipated under the influence of the numbing venom, and he lay there, open to whatever Emile wanted to do.
Emile's mouth and teeth went to the Argentine's nipples and tore and suck at those while his nails shredded the man's shirt off him and then proceeded to bloody up his chest and belly. Emile quickly worked his way, sucking and licking, down the man's torso, and had his pants off and was engorging and sucking off his cock while there was still time. When the man had jacked off down Emile's throat and his semen had been sucked dry, Emile munched on those veins running between the groin and legs briefly and then just rose, brought his monster cock to the man's asshole and rammed it in. The man's channel walls split immediately, bathing Emile's cock in blood and causing it to burgeon in size, as Emile drove in twenty inches, and shot off deep inside the unfortunate South American. He then just pulled out of the man who had served him faithfully and well for four years and let the body slide off the trunk of the limo onto the garage floor.