Black Angus – Chapter 10

This is a working draft and not a final product.

Content Warnings: Fellatio, Dubious Consent [alcoholic influence, coersion], Blood Drinking

In which there is no longer any doubt that Angus is a monster.

Anatoliy had come back to Green Side Inn before Angus returned. He was sitting at the bar, sharing jokes with others of his trade, visibly drunk. Angus had not yet decided whether or not to approach him when Anatoliy turned his head over his shoulder and made eye contact with him, his face going blank and making Angus’s decision for him. Blood slowly dripped from the tear in Angus’s navy shirt as he weaved through merry-making locals and soldiers to an open space next to Anatoliy.

“Where have you been all night?” Anatoliy murmured. His voice was shaking.

“I took your advice. I’ve been making preparations for when we go our separate ways,” Angus answered tersely. His nose creased, and like an unapologetic child, Angus flicked his chin over his shoulder to gaze into the crowd rather than to look at the man.

Anatoliy sighed heavily, wobbling in his seat. “Angus, I am so sorry for how I have been acting to-day. I thought I was being clever by offering fluid, but the gods knew better than I. And now Khors-Dazhbog has abandoned me. It is myself whom I’m disappointed with. I took those emotions out on you.”

Warm light from hanging lanterns reached out to fill the corners of the hall. The bright copal color of the room made Angus feel uneasy. Drifting through the air was the scent of smoking tobacco, spilled beer, and watered-down stew. Scores of other conversations buzzed around them. Angus leaned in where he stood, their difference in height less pronounced from where Anatoliy sat on the barstool.

“How am I supposed to feel? Just this morning, you said you’d do anything to keep me longer. Couldn’t I come with you? Couldn’t you just come back and find me? There must be some answer.”

Anatoliy’s chest started to rapidly rise and fall. “You said so yourself when we met: you are a stranger I picked up in the dead of night. I do not know who you are, Angus.” He touched Angus’s side where the lieutenant’s dagger had pierced Angus’s ribs, his hand coming back dabbed with blood. “Not just that —I think I am frightened of you.”

For a moment, they did nothing but stare into each other’s faces. An understanding passed between them, scores of words unspoken. Angus’s jaw quivered.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me. I only want to protect you,” Angus hushed.

Anatoliy blinked a number of times as his eyes darted about. “Protect me? Is that where you disappear to after dark?” he hissed.

“I’m just trying to survive. As much as anyone else. You understand,” Angus answered too plainly.

“So you protect yourself, you mean,” Anatoliy said. Creases formed under his eyes as he calculated the chances that he was already a liability.

Angus kept cool at the accusation. “Sometimes. I look out for myself and my friends. Hopefully, they do the same for me. I rarely find these concepts to be mutually exclusive.”

A smile formed across only the lower half of Anatoliy’s face. “My companions and I are the same way. I’ve been telling them all about you.” He leaned back in his seat and turned the other way to his fellow mercenaries. “Is he not as fair as I have boasted?” he announced over his shoulder. Anatoliy was met with laughter and cheer. Despite the masked threat, Angus grew self-conscious of his messy hair and form-fitting clothes.

Anatoliy steadied himself as he turned back around, seeming to only for the first time notice Angus when he did so. It was as if his words had unwittingly reminded him of his fondness for the petite, enigmatic creature before him. His cheeks had already been flushed red for the past hour or so, but Anatoliy’s eyelids drooped as he wet his lower lip and drew a long breath. He sat still and took the in the sight, while Angus only pouted back.

“I suppose we are little more than strangers, as you say,” Angus responded, his arms crossed and his voice growing more bitter as he continued speaking, “but it flatters me still that you find me worth mentioning. It’s starting to seem like you’ve grown disinterested in me now that you’ve taken me to bed. —Do you not like me anymore?”

The sword sitting behind where Angus was standing clasped his shoulder and said, “I’ll treat ya right, sweetheart!” Angus shook him off and looked at Anatoliy with impudence —as if he were to blame for the fellow’s behavior.

Anatoliy’s face betrayed his rising panic. “Of course, I like you, lapochka,” he reasoned. He faltered as he tried to say more, shallow words blocking him from that which he truly wished to express. With his right hand placed upward on the surface of the bar, Anatoliy traced his finger over the swollen, pink seam of healing flesh on his wrist, allowing a moment of cringing silence to pass. Anatoliy shuddered, jerking in his seat to regain his balance.

“Despite my fear,” he continued, turning to shamefully look Angus in the eyes, “I still desire you. Through this entire conversation, I cannot stop myself from staring at your pretty mouth.”

Almost absentmindedly, he placed the pad of his thumb on the center of Angus’s lower lip. Then he dragged it to the corner, hitching the soft flesh to the side and revealing Angus’s sharp teeth. Angus pulled his lips over the digit and sensuously pressed his tongue against the tip of Anatoliy’s thumb, drawing it in. He couldn’t stop Anatoliy from asking the right questions, but he knew how to distract him, at least.

“I swear by Rod, I might just let you ruin my life,” Anatoliy said weakly.

Angus ducked his chin down, obscuring their locked gaze behind the veil of his loose, black curls. Even by mistake, he didn’t want his next words to hold more sway than they were ought; the variable of alcohol was troublesome enough. Angus picked up Anatoliy’s hand so he could lick his blood back up from the tips of the man’s fingers.

“I was once in your place. I don’t want to do that to you. I just want you with me. I want,” said Angus, “to suck your cock.”

Another mercenary from the seat beside Anatoliy leaned out and jeered, “Tol! If you don’t accept, I volunteer to go in your stead!” Other patrons nearby cackled, and one of the swords whistled. Anatoliy propped his arm on the bar, bowing and hiding his face from view. Angus, however, had no reaction, holding his focus only on the man in front of him.

With a tilt of his head, Angus asked, “Would you like that?” His voice blended seamlessly between provocative and genuinely unsure.

Anatoliy drank a deep gulp of beer. “To think when we met a few nights ago, you were so shy,” he said, pulling his hand through his hair as he shook his head.

Abandoning nearly half a pint of beer in his glass, Anatoliy slid to his feet, pausing to stabilize himself. He pressed his eyelids tight against each other and rubbed the bridge of his nose, summoning the will to function. The light descending from above felt too harsh in the crevices of his eyes. Lowering to a light squat, Anatoliy swooped Angus up in his arms. Someone whistled again, and a few other inebriated folks whooped in spite of barely being aware of their surroundings. Anatoliy sighed. He endured the hazing, carrying Angus up the stairs to their room like a bride. Angus gazed up at his face with elated surprise, though Anatoliy was too focused on his feet to look back at him. Within a number of broad strides they became separated from the lively dining hall, and returned to the quiet, dank privacy of their modest room.

The atmosphere felt closer to reality there. Without the worn blankets to shield the window, pearlescent beams of moonlight poured into the room, tinting the furnishings a cool, cobalt hue. Anatoliy lowered Angus to the near side of the bed, but as Angus’s shoes touched the ground, he spun around and nudged Anatoliy with his palms to take the spot instead, having him sit on the edge of the mattress. Angus hungrily slid his fingers over the man’s shirt, then took half a step back to stand straight, grounding himself. Anatoliy placed his hands on either side of Angus’s waist, his left passively fingering the bloody hole torn in the shirt by the lieutenant’s dagger.

“This shirt looks good on you. Better than those baggy ones you usually wear,” Anatoliy commented. He pet the thin patch of hair on Angus’s chest that peeked through its deep neckline. Angus crossed his arms in front of himself and pulled the shirt over his head, his curls bouncing over his face as they fell free from the tight fabric. He waited to let Anatoliy view his exposed torso: his shallow chest, the streak of hairs that ran past his belly button, his nipples like melted wax awaiting the press of a signet ring, the raw cut on his side —caked with dried blood. Anatoliy carefully handled Angus, turning him to inspect the wound more closely but making no verbal comment. When he let go, Angus leaned over to untie his shoes, removing them as well as his socks. Then he raised his hands to his midriff and started unlacing his leggings. He pulled them to the floor and pushed his clothes back into a pile with his foot.

Anatoliy looked dizzy as he observed. “Did you do something to me with that wicked power of yours? Use your eyes to seduce me?” His eyebrows creased, searching inside himself. He felt so uncertain of many things lately.

Angus sucked in his lip, “Once. But I didn’t seduce you. The morning after we got drinks together and I told you I liked you, I could tell you wanted me. I really wanted you too —a bit too much, I think. So I got you to step away, nothing else. I guess I didn’t want to hurt your feelings or send the wrong message by rejecting you outright, though selfishly, I also wanted to test out what I could do. Afterward, I felt awful about it. What I did was wrong. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Anatoliy suppressed a laugh. “I remember. I would not have let you get away without a good excuse.” He swayed his head from side to side. “That is, I admit, a pretty good excuse. Perhaps it is just how I am seeing your face in the moonlight again. You look the same way you did when I first saw you on the road, the same way as when I first kissed you.”

He rested his left hand at the base of Angus’s back, drawing him closer, and his right on Angus’s swollen but not yet standing member. Angus brushed the hand away and grasped Anatoliy by his shoulder and opposite knee, guiding him onto his back until Anatoliy was reclined all the way with Angus straddling him on their bed.

“Touch yourself instead,” Angus instructed, “Show me how much you like me.” He circled his backside into the man’s lap, encouraging a response. Anatoliy promptly freed his erection from his trousers and began to stroke himself as requested. He didn’t dare look away from Angus’s face, which seemed so strange and animal in the haze of the night.

Angus leaned over to kiss him on the mouth. He felt the tip of Anatoliy’s tongue search out the points of his fangs, as if to make sure they were actually there. Short breaths puffed past Angus’s lips as Anatoliy’s heart pattered shallowly against Angus’s chest. The man was seeming to grow uneasy again, so Angus cupped his face and pressed soft, close-mouthed pecks to his lips until his breathing and heartbeat steadied once more. He wanted to show Anatoliy how safe he was with him, ignoring the pang from his unhealed ribs and the nagging impulse deep in the back of his thoughts urging him to do something about it.

Emitting a tense sigh, Angus dipped his face to Anatoliy’s chest, inhaling the man’s scent through his damp shirt with the tip of his nose. Anatoliy’s light, savory sweat reminded Angus of his mother chopping onions for dinner, and the herbs from his perfumed oils like the seasoning she added to stew. As Angus trailed lower, Anatoliy released his hand from his cock and wove his fingers through the curls at the base of Angus’s neck, neither halting him nor urging him closer to the aching heat between his thighs.

Angus gathered himself. Fellating other vampires always felt pretty normal when he had done so, but around humans, he needed to execute self-control. He’d never had an incident, and had enough practice that he trusted himself fully, but he wanted to feel especially capable for Anatoliy. Angus tested out a few licks, which Anatoliy responded to with some very pretty sounds. He couldn’t suppress himself after that, descending fully over Anatoliy’s member, a ravenous instinct compelling him to take all he could, like it was something he couldn’t live without.

His tongue found a plush cross-section of protruding veins which formed a jagged ‘X’. Angus liked that terribly. He pressed his yearning tongue against them as firmly as he could to feel the precious spirit flowing within. Anatoliy heaved encouraging, uneven gasps, provoking Angus to a state of esurience that dominated his every movement, to take all there was to take. His throat constricted, trying to lead the flesh further in. The throb of Anatoliy’s heart rang heavy palpitations through Angus’s skull.

“Oh gods, moy lyubimyy,” Anatoliy breathed, drawing sweaty strands of hair from his face and cradling the back of Angus’s neck in one palm, “What are you doing to me?”

He nourished Angus with spurts of warm spend. It was lovely in Angus’s throat, but it wasn’t enough. If anything, it teased in its insufficiency. Angus’s mouth felt so dry. His lips released Anatoliy’s cock, moist with saliva and humid air, but pointlessly so.

Anatoliy tilted his head off his pillow to meet Angus with an exhausted smile, a crease flickering at his lower lid as his sight locked with the bright, celadon glow of Angus’s tapetum. Angus crawled forward, his neck angled low and his elbows jutting out in sharp angles. His chin floated above Anatoliy’s face, head tilted back as his eyes drifted across the simple bed frame, but Angus never looked down.

“Anatoliy? You’re still there, right? You’re present? You feel like you’re awake?” Angus whispered.

“What do you mean? Yes. Of course,” Anatoliy answered. He watched Angus closely, with an underwhelming level of calm; like he was concerned and nothing more. The air felt thick with static, dampening any noises around them to create a great rising silence.

Angus briefly glanced down at him to check his expression, then looked straight back to the wall, grinning. “Good. I wanted you here with me. I was worried I’d influence you by mistake.”

“Are . . . you here? You seem a bit distant,” Anatoliy murmured back, though he was unsure why he was whispering other than to match Angus’s tone and the eerie silence of the room.

Angus swallowed, darting his eyes to consider the answer. “Not entirely, I think. Earlier, I got into a fight. I won, but the man stuck me pretty deep. I didn’t get much off of him, certainly not enough to heal myself.”

“What man?” Anatoliy asked, drawing sharp breaths, “Angus, what are you saying?”

Angus looked down again, casting his lashes down to shield his eyes. “I think you know what I want. —It shouldn’t hurt so bad if you don’t resist,” Angus’s mouth twitched a tiny smile, “Actually, it feels pretty damn good.”

Anatoliy grimaced. “Are you going to kill me? —Will I become . . . like you?”

Angus dipped his forehead into Anatoliy’s collar, taking special care to point his mouth away from Anatoliy’s neck as he nuzzled the big man. “Nothing like that. Later on, if you stay with me, you can receive my gift if you want it,” Angus pressed a kiss to his chest, “Which you will because it’s what everyone wants.”

With his ear to Anatoliy’s chest, Angus could hear the man’s heart slow to a calm. Anatoliy spoke soberly, “You’re sure I’ll be alright? And it will . . . help heal you? Like you once helped me?”

Angus shivered with joy and nodded against him, “I’m sure. I’ve done it to people lots of times without bringing them harm. And I absolutely don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” He gave Anatoliy a tight squeeze.

“Alright,” Anatoliy relented, “If you are grifting me, I’m sure there are plenty less arousing ways to die.” He took a deep breath, and relaxed his body as he stared uncertainly at the ceiling. The bed softly creaked below him.

Angus giggled and pecked Anatoliy on the lips. Lifting himself from the man’s chest, he arranged Anatoliy’s hairs so that his face and the left side of his neck were clear. Anatoliy shifted nervously in their sheets as Angus lowered himself to the crease above his collar, cool, delicate breaths prickling his skin. He balked out an anxious shudder at the touch of Angus’s appreciative lips, a wide lick trailing after the speculatively placed kiss. Fine hairs raised dimples of goose-flesh where the icy saliva remained.

Angus carefully slid his teeth into Anatoliy’s neck, cradling him in his arms as the man tensed against him. Cognitive of Anatoliy’s apprehensions, Angus restrained himself from lapping up the spirit, letting the man pour into his mouth naturally as he waited for Anatoliy to regain ease. His eyelashes fluttered behind Anatoliy’s ear. The taste was briny and lurked with the faint fermentation of alcohol. And there was something more, though Angus couldn’t identify it. He only knew it reminded him of long lost summers, the warmth of the blood like an object left out in the sun. Angus sucked his first draft and Anatoliy’s breath quickened, but it seemed to be welcoming this time, though it might have only been wishful thinking. He thankfully stroked Anatoliy’s hair as metallic savor coated his mouth, spilling over his tongue and streaming through the fine gaps in his teeth. Finding his rhythm, Angus swallowed one lap after another, then pulled his second draft, letting Anatoliy’s blood freely pour down his throat until its flow slowed to a trickle. Animal voices in Angus’s head frenzied for more, promising one –or perhaps two– more drafts would be free of consequence and, better yet, ‘enough’, but the man side of him knew he’d tapped his limit for keeping a living victim in fine health —even though Anatoliy was taller and generally more massive than an average man and likely wouldn’t feel the difference. —No. Angus flopped to his side and licked at the liquid still draining from the punctures, but kept himself from intentionally drawing more.

“Do you feel alright?” he asked, tracing his fingers along Anatoliy’s jaw. Angus’s eyes wouldn’t break away from the wet strokes of madder lake that branched over bruising skin. If he had ever seen a more gorgeous sight, Angus couldn’t recall it just then.

Anatoliy scrunched his lids closed. “I feel light-headed. But I think I am fine.” He tilted his head to the side, surrendering to Angus better access to his dregs. Everything was all so absurd anyway; how could anything matter anymore?

“Are you still afraid of me?” Angus asked. His hands and lips continuously caressed Anatoliy, guided by desperate, needy affection and brazen coercion. To think there was any soothing away the violation he’d just committed.

“I don’t know,” Anatoliy admitted. “That was the craziest thing I have ever done. I must be a lunatic.”

Angus laughed into his neck. “You tasted good. —Both times,” he purred. An unsettling awareness then grasped at his insides, flooding Angus with self-doubt. He withdrew his persuasive hands and shifted his tone to one more cautious, “Although . . . I don’t want you to think I planned that. I only wanted us to make love. My hunger crept up on me and made me bold. You know I didn’t mean to trick you, Anatoliy.”

“I don’t know how to feel about you liking the taste of me,” Anatoliy contemplated, “I am flattered, but I think I should be concerned. I suppose it matters little.” He yawned and wrapped his arm around Angus’s shoulders.

“Why do you say that?” Angus asked, but the man did not respond. Drink, sex, and blood-loss seemed to take their toll all at once, luring Anatoliy into dreams more comprehensible than reality. He knew the truth now, perhaps even accepted it. A bit of fear to start was reasonable enough, but now Anatoliy had to know Angus meant him no harm. Angus watched the man slumber with quiet adoration for a few minutes before untangling himself from Anatoliy’s limbs and the bed’s worn linens. He put his clothes back on and sat at the corner table to write another letter to Edwina. Without his clay offering bowl, Anatoliy had set the arrowhead plainly on the surface of the table next to the candle.