Page 4 of Dracula: Bound in Blood

A gentle knock at the door announced the arrival of his next client. Jonathan took a deep breath. “Come in,” he called, his voice steady and professional.

The door swung open, revealing a man who took his breath away. The client was undeniably handsome, with wavy blond hair that caught the light streaming through the office window and piercing gray eyes that seemed to see right through Jonathan’s carefully constructed facade. His chiseled jawline and full lips completed the picture of masculine beauty that made Jonathan’s heart race.

“Mr. Harker?” the man inquired, his voice rich and melodic. “I’m Charles Ainsworth. We have an appointment to discuss the property transfer.”

Jonathan swallowed hard, forcing himself to maintain his composure. “Of course, Mr. Ainsworth. Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the chair across from his desk, willing his hand not to tremble.

As they delved into the intricacies of the legal matter, Jonathan found his gaze repeatedly drawn to Mr. Ainsworth’s features. The man’s brow furrowed in concentration, the elegant curve of his neck as he leaned forward to examine a document – each detail seemed to burn itself into Jonathan’s mind.

During a particularly involved explanation, Mr. Ainsworth leaned in closer; his cologne – a heady mix of sandalwood and something uniquely masculine – enveloped Jonathan. For a brief, dizzying moment, Jonathan allowed himself to imagine closing the distance between them, feeling those full lips against his own...

The fantasy shattered as Mr. Ainsworth’s expression shifted, a judgmental frown creasing his handsome features. Jonathan realized with a start that he had been staring, his desire written plainly across his face for anyone to see.

‘You disgusting creature,’ he thought, his self-loathing rising like bile in his throat. ‘Can you not control yourself for even a moment? This is why Father hasn’t spoken to you in years. This... this unnatural perversion!’

Flustered, Jonathan fumbled with the papers on his desk, desperate to cover his momentary lapse. “My apologies, Mr. Ainsworth,” he muttered, not daring to meet the man’s eyes. “I was lost in thought for a moment. Now, regarding the clause on page seven...”

The rest of the meeting passed in a blur of legal jargon and thinly veiled tension. When Mr. Ainsworth finally departed, Jonathan slumped in his chair, awash in relief and frustration. Itwas finally over, but his body thrummed with unfulfilled desire. He checked the time. The meeting continued longer than he thought; the sun was near setting. Perhaps he should go out for a drink? Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps….

His feet carried him to the seedy streets of East End as the sun waned, where men like him – men with desires that dared not speak their name – congregated in the shadows.

Jonathan had never summoned the courage to act on his urges in these clandestine meeting places, but there was a fleeting solace in simply being among others who shared his burden. As he walked along the dimly lit streets, his eyes darting furtively from face to face, a young man caught his attention.

The rent boy couldn’t have been more than eighteen, with a mop of unruly curls and a lithe frame that spoke of youth and vitality. His eyes, wise beyond their years, locked onto Jonathan’s with a knowing look that caught the lawyer’s breath in his throat.

As Jonathan approached the young man, his steps were hesitant and clumsy, his heart thumping in his ears, the sounds of the street fading into the background. “G-good evening,” he stammered, cursing his nervousness.

The rent boy’s lips curved into a practiced smile. “Evening, guv’nor,” he purred, his cockney accent thick. “Looking for some company tonight?”

Jonathan’s mind reeled. Was he genuinely considering this? But the thought of returning home, alone and unfulfilled, wassuddenly more than he could bear. “I... yes, I suppose I am,” he replied.

With a wink, the young man took Jonathan’s arm, guiding him towards a nearby alley. “Come on then, love. I know a quiet spot where we won’t be disturbed.”

Jonathan’s heart raced with excitement and trepidation as they entered the shadows. This was the moment he had longed for and dreaded for so long. He had been so good at keeping his urges at bay, as if, if he didn’t act on them, it somehow absolved him of having them; when the rent boy turned to face him, Jonathan leaned in, eyes closing as he prepared for his first kiss with another man.

The young man placed a firm hand on his chest, stopping him short. “Whoa there, mate. Payment first, yeah? Then we can get to the fun stuff.”

Jonathan blinked, confusion and disappointment warring within him. “P-payment?” he stuttered, the romantic notions he had built in his mind crumbling away.

The rent boy’s expression hardened slightly. “Come on, guv. You didn’t think this was a charity, did you? Five quid for a quick one, ten for the full package.”

Flustered and embarrassed, Jonathan fumbled for his wallet, pulling out a wad of cash. As he tried to count out the requested amount, his hands trembling, the young man’s patience worethin. In a swift motion, he snatched the entire wad from Jonathan’s grasp.

“Hey!” Jonathan protested, his embarrassment quickly turning to anger. “That’s all my money!”

He reached out, attempting to grab the cash back from the rent boy. But the young man was quicker, dodging Jonathan’s grasp with ease.

“Shoulda thought of that before you came down here, mate,” the rent boy sneered, pocketing the money.

Desperation overtaking his better judgment, Jonathan lunged forward again. “Please, I need that back. I can’t—“

His words were cut short as the rent boy’s fist connected with his jaw, sending Jonathan reeling back against the alley wall. Stars exploded behind his eyes, and he tasted blood in his mouth.

“You want to play it like that, do ya?” the young man growled, all pretense of charm gone. He followed up with a vicious punch to Jonathan’s stomach, driving the air from his lungs.

Jonathan doubled over, gasping for breath. He raised his hands in a feeble attempt to protect himself, but he was no match for the street-hardened youth. Another blow caught him on the side of the head, and he felt his knees give way.

As Jonathan slumped to the ground, the rent boy delivered a final kick to his ribs. “That’ll teach you to come down here thinking you can have whatever you want,” he spat.

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