The hellish shriek that pierced Dracula’s silent rest within his coffin made him burst forth, almost splintering the lid. It was Renfield, and, from the sound of his cries, he was being murdered by hunters. Turning into a flurry of bats, he flew to his servant’s room in the decrepit Italian villa where they had been staying for the past few months. He readied himself to tear apart those who would dare to lay a finger on his most precious possession, but instead he found Renfield kicking and flailing hysterically in a tangle of sheets on the floor. His anger turned into annoyance, and reached down and pulled the gangly man up from the ground. Dracula drew back a hand to slap some sense into Renfield, but before he could the man had thrown his arms around him so tight that it shocked the vampire.
Dracula couldn’t understand a damned word the man was saying, as he was now crying even more hysterically than he had been flailing. However, the images that flooded his mind explained it all. The last time hunters had caught them, but this time…Renfield being held down, made to watch as Dracula had a stake driven through his heart, decapitated, cut to pieces, burnt, turned to ash.
“Master, master,” Renfield’s words were clearer now, albeit sobbed out, “They took you from me. They took you-“
Anger and annoyance drained out of Dracula, and he wrapped his arms around his servant. “Shhh, pet. You were dreaming. I am here.” Damned fool. Damned beautiful, soft hearted, sweet fool.
He picked up the shaking man like a parent picking up a child, Renfield’s arms around his shoulders and his legs resting on his hips. He buried his face in Dracula’s neck, his tears drenching the vampire’s neck. He carried the quivering, weeping mess of a man to the salon, and laid him on the sofa there. Looking at his face now, Dracula felt an unwelcome pang in his chest. Renfield’s face was wet with tears, his blue eyes made more intense and striking by the redness in and around them. He looked almost as bad as when he had escaped Seward’s asylum…and worse still, there was a look of embarrassed, panicked fear creeping across his face.
“Master, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I’ll get your clothes ready for the night, I’m so sorry-“ He tried to stand, wiping his face with his own pajama sleeve in embarrassment. Dracula sighed and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, making him go still.
“You will sit here, and calm yourself.” He gently caressed Renfield’s wet cheek with the back of his fingers. “Indulge me, sweetness.”
Dracula grinned at the way Renfield’s lashes fluttered at his words. How easy it was to control him with a few well-chosen words. He turned from the man, and began to build a fire. The winter nights in Northern Italy were so cold that even Dracula felt them. The ornate marble fireplace soon held a roaring fire, casting warm light over the moth-eaten furniture of the salon. They had found the place abandoned, yet with still a few furnishings. The villa had reputation for being haunted, Renfield had said. All the better for their privacy.
When Dracula turned back to Renfield, he saw that the human had drawn up his long legs to the sofa, and was holding them tightly. He had a thousand-yard stare in his eyes, still obviously shaken by his dreams. How foolish mortals were, causing themselves distress through images concocted by their weak minds. Dracula grabbed the colorful throw blanket Renfield had knitted from the floor, and wrapped it around his shoulders. Renfield looked at him, his eyes painfully sad.
“I’m sorry, it was just so…” His voice was trembling. “So real…In the dream, it felt like I had lost you forever, and it was just too much…” His voice now was choked, tears spilling again from those horrendously charming eyes. The eyes that had enchanted Dracula just as much as he had enchanted this pathetic little man. Dracula sighed and drew Renfield into his arms, making him rest his head against his chest. He was still dressed in the dark purple silk pajamas Renfield had acquired for him recently. He had walked ten miles to the nearest train station to go to Milan for them.
“My poor, sweet pet. I am here. No one could separate me from you. No one has the strength or means to.” Renfield looked up at him, his face still knotted with worry. Dracula indulgently stroked his hair and the back of his neck. “Besides, you are far too capable to allow that to happen.” Renfield smiled shyly, averting his gaze at the compliment.
“Remember dearest.” Dracula lifted his chin so that he could look him in the eye. “Anyone who would dare come between us is destined to find their destruction at my hand.” He punctuated that statement by gently tapping the tip of Renfield’s nose, which made his eyes brighten beautifully and his smile widen. Oh, sweet Satan, this human would be the end of him.
Renfield snuggled in closer, squeezing Dracula tighter. “Anyone who would dare do that would have to go through me first.”
“That’s my good boy,” Dracula kissed the top of his head. The sweetness of Renfield’s devotion was a balm to him, making the gnawing hunger within him feel sated. He couldn’t help himself but be tender with the man. For the moment at least.
“My lord…” Renfield only used that term when asking for something, but Dracula felt none of his usual annoyance at it.
“Yes pet?”
Renfield sat up, his eyes pleading and his fingers nervously fidgeting. “Would it be possible for you to stay in tonight? We have enough blood in the refrigerator, I made sure to replenish it this week. It’s from those novice nuns I found for you in town, so it’s very, very pure!” He was babbling now. Dracula shushed him with a slight chuckle.
“Would that ease your worries?” He caressed Renfield’s cheek, and the man leaned into it like a dog seeking its master’s hand.
“Yes master.” He kissed Dracula’s palm.
“Fetch me some blood, and something for yourself too.” The vampire playfully grasped his chin and gave it a slight shake. “Something to help soothe yourself.”
Renfield jumped up and scurried out of the room, showing the kind of instant obedience Dracula was so fond of. The vampire stretched his legs out, watching the fire. While the thrill of the hunt was a pleasure nothing could replace, he could entertain himself well enough with his pet for the night. Renfield was so delightfully needy at times, and pliable in that need.
The slap of Renfield’s bare feet on the cracked marble flooring made him raise his eyes from the flames. His familiar was carefully carrying a round tray with a milk bottle full of the red stuff and a brandy snifter. Such pure blood was savored best like this, the shape of the glass allowing its aromas to open to the nose with each swirl of it. Renfield carefully placed it on the wooden box that served as an end table, and poured Dracula a drink, filling the glass with two fingers worth of blood.
“Look at you.” Dracula chuckled, “Knowing exactly how to serve me.”
Blushing, Renfield offered him the glass. His gaze averted briefly, coyly at the compliment. Just the way his Lord liked it. Dracula swirled the thick liquid, inhaling its bouquet. Young and innocent, with a heart of gold. The best of the best. It made him think of his nights with dear Erzebet. She did swear by the stuff. Pity she got too greedy, and ended up on the wrong side of a throng of angry Hungarian nobles. Even more the pity that she didn’t have a familiar as good as Renfield to revive her. He sipped slowly, slurping up air as he did to allow the flavors to open in his maw. While it was always nicer fresh, this was lovely. Renfield sat beside him, digging out a small foil wrapped lump from his pajama pocket.
“What on Earth is that?” Dracula asked, swallowing down his mouthful of blood.
“Hm!” Renfield had unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth already. “Chocolate. Got it last time I was in town. They call it a Bahshe.” His English accent mangled the Italian word and Dracula rolled his eyes.
“Baci.” Dracula corrected him. “It means kiss.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry, I’ve never been great with languages.” Renfield looked down, his demeanor turning small and tense again.
“No matter.” Dracula slid his cold hand up Renfield’s warm back, coming to rest on the nape of his neck, gripping it affectionately. “Now, come. I think you would far prefer the real thing, hmm?”
Renfield melted under his touch, and leaned in obediently for a kiss. Dracula held him by the back of the neck as he kissed him lazily, not bothering to be careful with his needle-like fangs. Renfield liked it when he drew blood anyway. He could already taste the salty tang of his familiar’s blood. While nowhere near as pure as the blood in his glass, the bitter flavor of corruption made for a welcome palate cleanser. The vampire pulled away, grinning a horrifyingly toothy grin. Renfield’s lips were slick and red with blood, and he had that adorable moony look he would always get when kissed by his master.
“You’re beautiful with blood on your mouth.” Dracula murmured, wiping Renfield’s lips with his thumb. His thrall licked at it, looking into the vampire’s eyes. Lust would always make him bold enough to hold his master’s gaze. It was thrilling. “Why don’t you put that pretty tongue of yours to better use my sweet?” Renfield nodded, his capacity for language lost in desire so palpable Dracula could feel it without even peering into his mind. His servant slipped to his knees, and obediently unbuttoned Dracula’s pajama pants. The vampire leaned back, taking another sip from his snifter as Renfield took out his hardening co*ck and licked slow, sloppy licks from the base to the head.
“That’s it, you know exactly what to do.” Dracula ran the tips of his claws through the kneeling man’s hair. “Get my co*ck good and wet so you can take it down your throat.”
Renfield knew exactly how his master liked his blowj*bs when he was in this kind of mood. Sometimes all he had to do is keep his mouth and throat relaxed as Dracula violently f*cked them until Renfield choked on his own spit and his master’s cum. Other times, like now, he knew to be slow and to use his throat to keep the vampire’s co*ck warm. Brushing a strand of hair from his forehead and tucking it behind his ear, Renfield slid his mouth to the base of the vampire’s nearly erect co*ck. It nestled into his throat as comfortably as it could, Renfield labored breathing coming through his nose and the muscles of his throat stretching around the girth of his master. His decades with Dracula had effectively reduced his gag reflex to nothing, which pleased the vampire to no end. Swirling his drink, Dracula let out a contented sigh.
“Such a good little co*cksucker.” Renfield let out a choked moan, making his throat vibrate around Dracula’s length. “You’ve learned to suck my co*ck so well. Learned to be your god’s perfect whor*. Nothing but warm, wet holes for me to f*ck and cum into.” Renfield moans were louder now. Dracula knew even nasty compliments like these made the man putty in his hands. The vampire drained his glass, reached over for the bottle, and poured himself another drink of blood. “That’s it, my sweet boy, keep my co*ck in your throat.”
Renfield obeyed him perfectly, keeping himself still, lips stretched tightly around the base of the vampire’s co*ck. Dracula could feel hot tears drip onto his groin, this time from effort and not fear. He didn’t allow his servant to move however. He knew Renfield could take it. So instead, he drank his snifter of blood slowly, his gaze shifting to the fire to the kneeling man. Renfield’s throat muscles rippled around him deliciously, making his co*ck throb. But Dracula wanted something a little more dramatic than pumping his come directly down his servant’s gullet. When he finished his glass, he decided to be merciful. He grabbed Renfield’s hair and yanked him off his co*ck. The man sputtered, looking a bit dazed, and now Dracula could see that his dear familiar was as hard as he was. His pants were tented, making him look pathetic.
“Tsk tsk. Look at you. So hard from having my co*ck in your throat.” Renfield whimpers, eyes fixed on his master’s pale erection. “I bet you want me to f*ck you. Is that what you want?” Dracula titled his head so Renfield had to look him in the eye. His servant nodded, his voice hoarse from the strain to his throat.
“Yes master, please master. Want it so bad.” He strained forward, trying to get at Dracula’s co*ck again. “You makes me so hard, master. Want to please you.”
“Make me come and I’ll consider f*cking you. Now show me how much you worship your master.”
Renfield grabbed Dracula’s co*ck and began stroking it as he took it in his mouth again, rhythmically bobbing his mouth on it. He held his master’s gaze as he did, making the vampire groan with pleasure.
“That’s it, that’s my good co*cksucker.” Dracula growled, setting his brandy snifter aside so he could place both hands on Renfield’s neck. He knew at this rate he was liable to come at any second. “Such a slu*t for your master’s co*ck.” Renfield replied with affirmative humming, speeding up. As he felt his org*sm crest, Dracula sat up and forced his servant back, and held his co*ck against Renfield’s face. He painted the younger man’s face with cold stripes of cum, smearing it with his co*ck. Renfield looked frantic, tongue seeking out the fluid but being too obedient to do something foolish like fighting his master’s will. The tremor of his org*sm passed, and Dracula indulgently gathered his cum off from Renfield’s face before offering it to him from his fingers. The kneeling man lapped it up eagerly, his tongue hot against Dracula’s cold skin.
Once Renfield was finished with his treat, Dracula pulled him into his lap, making sure to sit him down so the man could feel his master’s still erect co*ck against his hole. Renfield threw his arms around the vampire’s neck, arousal making him reckless. “Use me. Want to be good for you. Please you.” He rocked his hips against Dracula’s co*ck. “I’m nothing but a hole for you to use.”
Dracula grinned. Even when he had first laid eyes on Renfield, he knew that beneath the staid exterior laid a soul craving depravity. He could smell it on him, simmering beneath a thick layer of repression and guilt. Carving that layer away had been so easy, and Renfield had been so willing. More than power or money, the man had wanted to be freed of social consequences, to experience the pleasures that had been forbidden to him. How wonderful it had been to open the gates to the garden of unearthly delights for him.
“Yes, yes you are.” Dracula pushed Renfield back to his feet. “Now get what you need to be just that.”
Renfield scurried away even faster than earlier. Often, Dracula chose to forgo any lubricant except for spit, but occasionally, he felt generous. However, the only one he felt was appropriate was consecrated oil. Sacrilege always made sex more exciting.
Renfield was all but tripping over himself as he ran back into the salon, a stolen chrismaria half-full of anointing oil in one hand as the other struggled to unbutton his shirt.
“Careful not to spill, pet.” Dracula poured another few fingers of blood for himself, watching his familiar disrobe quickly. “Now undress me.”
Renfield obeyed, carefully unbuttoning the shirt, folding it over the back of the sofa, then doing the same with the pants. The man’s co*ck was at attention, rosy with blood, the aroma of it wafting to Dracula’s nose. The smell was, for lack of a better term, divine. The thrall poured the perfumed oil onto his hand, and slicked the vampire’s co*ck with it. He climbed back onto Dracula’s lap, and with one hand steadying his master’s co*ck, slid down on it. His eyes squeezed shut, and he bit his bottom lip. Despite their frequent herculean nights of f*cking, his servant was always so pleasantly tight around his co*ck.
“Oh f*ck…” Renfield whimpered as he sank down to the hilt. “Master…”
Dracula casually drained his glass before setting it down. “I know. But you take it so well. Now f*ck yourself on it. Show me how much you love your master’s fat co*ck.”
Renfield held onto Dracula’s strong, pale shoulders, and did as he was told. He rolled and thrust his hips up and down, bracing himself with his knees. Sweat pearled on his forehead and chest as he f*cked himself on Dracula’s co*ck. The vampire put an arm over the back of the sofa, enjoying both the hot slickness of his servant’s hole as well as the sounds he was making. At first the man always would hold his breath as he rode him, letting out plaintive exhalations when he couldn’t hold back any longer. Then, he would start yelping as he angled his thrusts in the right way to hit his prostate. After that would always come the helpless cries, any restraint gone, his voice echoing in the room beautifully. Dracula could tell he was doing his best to hold back from coming too soon, which pleased him to no end. He caressed Renfield’s body, his hands starting at his neck, traveling down to his soft pectorals and sweet, pinkish brown nipples, pulling at them until they were painfully stiff. Renfield’s co*ck slapped against both of their stomachs, leaving wet marks.
“So wet for me.” Dracula grabbed hold of his servant’s co*ck, and slowly milked it until fluid emerged from the tip. “Sloppy little whor*. Having a hard co*ck in your ass makes you so wet.” He ran his hand over the head of Renfield’s co*ck, and brought it to his mouth. He stared deep into his servant’s blue eyes as he licked it up. “But so good for me. Couldn’t ask for a better whor* to serve me.”
Renfield threw his head back and let out a loud cry as he sped up his thrusts, hands gripping the vampire tighter. “Master, master, master!” The wet slapping noises of his ass bouncing up and down was music to Dracula’s ears.
“Oh f*ck! I love you, love you!” Dracula let out a rumbling growl, the increasing violence of Renfield’s motions making pleasure coil up in his guts.
“Love you, love you, kill for you!”
Those words did it. Dracula gripped his hands onto Renfield’s waist, forcing him to hold still as he came deep inside of his familiar. Renfield squirmed, trying to gain some friction against the co*ck impaling him. “Please…please…” His voice was so plaintive and desperate that Dracula took pity on him. He took Renfield’s co*ck in his hand, and began stroking him vigorously.
“Feels so good master.” Renfield hiccupped out. “Feel so good with your cum inside me.” He circled his hips, keeping Dracula’s co*ck inside of him. “So good. Love you so much.”
It was rare for his familiar to be so…soppy. Dracula occasionally heard those words inside of Renfield’s head, but so often he was too afraid to say them out loud. Dracula didn’t care much for sentimental nonsense like that. Usually.
“Most favored servant…sweet, beautiful, perverted boy…” Renfield was letting out higher pitched cries now, his co*ck flushing red with the friction of his master’s hand. “I love you.”
Renfield came violently, letting out a long wail that verged on a scream. His cum splattered across Dracula’s hairy chest and stomach, a drop reaching the vampire’s chin. His reaction was so intense, so gloriously submitted to the vampire’s words, it made Dracula flush with pride. Renfield fell forward, shaking and whimpering. Dracula ran his hands down his back, reaching down to lightly stroke the rim of Renfield’s hole, still stretched around his co*ck. The skin there was taught and smooth, slick to the touch.
“Delicious.” To punctuate this, Dracula opened his mouth, his fangs extending like a snake’s, and sank them into Renfield’s neck. Renfield let out a sharp yelp, holding on tightly as his master gently sucked at his neck. Not out of hunger, but out of a need to mark. Dracula released him from his bite, licking at the blood oozing from the punctures.
“Only you are strong enough to take my love,” Dracula whispered, holding his servant close, letting his lips brush against his deliciously warm skin, enjoying the stickiness of the cum, sweat, and now blood on his body. “Only you have the strength to be mine.” Renfield buried his face against Dracula’s shoulder, letting out a muffled wail. “And I know you appreciate it, dearest one.”
Dracula held onto him, his co*ck still buried deep inside of him, allowing his servant to drift in and out of consciousness. What an absolute delight this human was, despite of all his shortcomings. And the night was still so young.
