Page 36 of Dracula: Bound in Blood

Jonathan met each thrust with a roll of his hips, their bodies moving in perfect sync. The dance of their lovemaking was wild and primal, a raw, unbridled expression of their desire. Dracula could feel the pleasure building within him, the tension coiling in his body like a tightly wound spring.

He leaned down, capturing Jonathan’s lips in another fierce kiss. Their tongues moved together, mirroring the dance of their bodies. Dracula could taste Jonathan’s blood on his lips, a sweet, coppery tang that only served to heighten his desire.

He broke away from the kiss, his mouth moving to Jonathan’s ear. “You feel incredible,” he growled, his voice low and guttural. “You feel so tight and so warm. I want to stay inside you forever.”

Jonathan moaned, his head falling back against the wall. “Yes,” he gasped. “Yes, please. I want you, Dracula. I want all of you.”

Dracula’s thrusts grew wilder, more urgent. He could feel his orgasm approaching, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable intensity. He wanted to come, wanted to fill Jonathan with his essence, to mark him as his own.

With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside Jonathan, his body shuddering with the force of his release. Jonathan cried out, his own orgasm crashing over him like a wave. His body convulsed, his cock pulsing as he spilled himself between them.

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies joined together, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Then, slowly, Dracula lowered Jonathan to the ground, their bodies separating with a soft, wet sound.

Jonathan leaned against the wall, his legs trembling, his body slick with sweat. Dracula stood before him, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of satisfaction and concern. He reached out, gently cupping Jonathan’s face in his hand.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice soft with tenderness.

Jonathan nodded, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Yes,” he said, his voice filled with wonder. “That was... incredible.”

Dracula smiled back, his thumb brushing gently against Jonathan’s cheek. “Yes, it was,” he agreed.

“But our dance is far from over.”

Dracula gathered the young solicitor, carrying him to the plush chaise and laying Jonathan on the soft fabric. Dracula leaned in, licking and teasing his nipples before giving in and taking a bite, drawing blood and lapping the sweet nectar.

“Yes! Take me!” Jonathan said, his chest heaving with desire as he presented his neck.

“No. I will not make you into a monster!” Dracula growled before entering the solicitor again.

Jonathan wanted to speak, but once he was filled again, no words would come from his lips other than cries of pure pleasure. Dracula’s eyes bore into Jonathan’s, the intensity of his gaze pinning the young man as securely as his body. He moved with a renewed vigor, his hips driving into Jonathan’s with a primal, relentless rhythm. The chaise creaked beneath them, threatening to succumb to the force of their passion. Jonathan’s hands clutched at Dracula’s back, feeling the powerful muscles shift and flex under his touch. Their bodies were slick with sweat, sliding against each other in a heated, desperate dance.

Dracula’s mouth moved from Jonathan’s nipples, trailing kisses and gentle bites up his chest and his neck until he claimed his lips again. This time, the kiss was not fierce but deep and slow, filled with a longing that transcended mere physical desire. Jonathan responded in kind, pouring his soul into the kiss, his heart pounding against Dracula’s.

The Count’s hand slipped between their bodies, wrapping around Jonathan’s cock. He stroked in time with his thrusts, his touch firm and sure. Jonathan tore his mouth away from Dracula’s, a keening cry escaping his lips as the pleasure became almost too much to bear.

“That’s it, my love,” Dracula murmured, his voice a low rumble. “Let go for me. Let me see you come undone.”

Jonathan’s body shuddered, his hips bucking wildly as Dracula’s words pushed him over the edge. His cock pulsed in Dracula’s hand, his release hot and sudden, painting his stomach and chest. The sight of Jonathan lost in ecstasy sent Dracula spiraling, his own orgasm ripping through him with a ferocity that left him gasping. He thrust deep into Jonathan one last time, filling him completely, before collapsing on top of him, their bodies a tangle of limbs and heaving breaths.

They lay there for a long moment, the only sound in the grand ballroom their ragged breathing and the distant ticking of a clock. Dracula’s face was buried in Jonathan’s neck, his lips brushing softly against the pulse point that throbbed with life. He could feel Jonathan’s heartbeat slowing, his body relaxing into the afterglow of their passion.

With a gentle kiss on Jonathan’s neck, Dracula lifted himself up, his dark eyes gazing down at the young man. Jonathan’s eyes were closed as he drifted to sleep.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The ballroom lay silent, the only sound being Jonathan’s soft breathing as he slept peacefully on a makeshift bed of cushions and blankets. Dracula stood, adjusting his clothing and casting one last tender glance at his lover’s slumbering form when the presence made itself known.

“Bravo!” The sound of clapping echoed from a dark corner of the ballroom.

Taken completely off guard, Dracula instinctually went on the attack, moving fast as lightning and pinning the intruder to the far wall, tearing the brocade wallpaper as the plaster underneath cracked from sheer force. It was a vampyre! But how? Draculahad not known another was in Transylvania, let alone in his home! He hadn’t sensed the other’s presence at all.

“My my, such a warm welcome from a father to his son.” The vampyre chuckled. “I must admit I’m surprised by you, I thought you would have paid me a visit the moment I crossed the borders into your land, but it seems your senses has dulled over the centuries.” His icy eyes glanced past Dracula to the delectable human sprawled naked on the chaise like a carved work of art. He could smell his sweet blood pumping, his skin still flushed from sex.

How he wanted to join the pair when he watched them coupling, how he wanted to run his tongue over that soft pink flesh and give him taste of his own cock.

Dracula sensed the raw, primal desire emanating from the other vampyre and felt a surge of hatred course through his undead veins. With an iron will, he forced the younger immortal to maintain eye contact, preventing him from gazing upon the vulnerable human nearby. “Andor,” Dracula intoned, his voice a low, menacing growl, “why have you darkened my doorstep?”

In response, Andor merely chuckled, the sound reminiscent of some mischievous trickster god. He was Dracula’s firstborn, the initial success in the dark art of vampiric creation—a living experiment to test the boundaries of the elder vampyre’s formidable power. Andor had once been a mere peasant from a neighboring village, a place so ravaged by plague that it had earned the moniker “hell on earth.” Every soul there had either perished or teetered on the brink of death. It was in such forsaken places that Dracula had prowled, searching for suitabletest subjects. There, he had discovered the young, handsome man of sixteen, desperately clinging to the putrid corpse of a deceased lover.

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