Page 55 of Dracula: Bound in Blood

Without waiting for a response, Andor ascended the ladder, Van Helsing’s body swaying grotesquely with each step. At the top, he paused, silhouetted against the fading daylight.

“Farewell, father,” he said softly. Then he was gone, leaving only the echo of his footsteps and the metallic scent of blood behind.

Dracula slumped to the floor, his body weary from the brutal fight. Blood stained his tattered clothes, and his chest heaved with each labored breath. His eyes, usually sharp and alert, were heavy-lidded with exhaustion.

Jonathan crawled towards him, wincing with each movement. His limbs trembled, muscles protesting after the violent encounter. A thin trail of blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, and bruises were already blooming across his pale skin.

As Jonathan drew near, Dracula’s eyes widened in disbelief. He blinked rapidly as if trying to dispel an illusion. “Jonathan?” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “How... why are you here?”

Jonathan reached out, his fingers brushing Dracula’s cheek. “I heard you,” he murmured. “Your voice, calling to me. I couldn’t ignore it any longer.”

Confusion flickered across Dracula’s face. He hadn’t consciously called out, yet some part of him must have been reaching for Jonathan all this time.

“I don’t care anymore,” Jonathan continued, his voice growing stronger. “If I’m just a replacement, a shadow of someone you once loved - it doesn’t matter. I know what I want now.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against Dracula’s skin. “I want freedom. And I want you.”

Dracula’s hand trembled as he cupped Jonathan’s face, drinking in the sight of him. For a moment, neither spoke, their reunion hanging in the air between them.

Dracula’s eyes softened as he gazed at Jonathan, longing and regret etched in their depths. “You must understand, Jonathan. You’re more than a replacement. I was blind, lost in grief for so long. I tried to recreate what I had, but it only drove others to madness. I would have done the same to you if...”

His voice trailed off. Jonathan shuffled closer, ignoring the pain, his hand reaching out to cup Dracula’s cheek. “I don’t care,” he whispered fiercely. “Let us both be mad together, then.”

A rich, warm laugh escaped Dracula’s lips. His hand covered Jonathan’s, fingers intertwining. “Oh, my dear solicitor. I had my time with my love, and that time has ended. I can no longer remain in this stagnant world, slowly withering away. I want to live – truly live – and I want to do so with you by my side. But there may always be a part of me that sees a bit of him in you...”

Jonathan silenced him with a finger to his lips. “There’s a saying, you know. If you love something, let it go. If it returns, it’s yours.” His eyes sparkled as he leaned in close. “I’m yours, Dracula. Now and always.”

Their lips met in a kiss that spoke of promises, new beginnings, and a love that had weathered storms and emerged stronger.

“Make love to me,” Jonathan whispered, his voice thick with desire. “Now, Dracula. I need to feel you inside me.”

Dracula, his eyes smoldering with a mixture of lust and concern, trailed his fingertips along Jonathan’s hand, “My greedy boy,” he murmured, his voice a low, sensual growl, “we are both injured and exhausted. Perhaps we should rest.”

“No,” Jonathan insisted, his voice growing in intensity. “I need you. I need to feel your body against mine. Please, it’s been so long.”

Dracula surrendered. His fingers deftly unfastened the remaining buttons on Jonathan’s shirt, reveling in the sight of the young man’s muscular chest, his nipples already pebbled with anticipation. Leaning in, he captured Jonathan’s mouth in a scorching kiss, his tongue seeking and finding its mate.

As they kissed, Dracula’s hands roamed over Jonathan’s lithe body, tracing the contours of his muscles, the curve of his hips, and the taut globes of his buttocks. He squeezed gently, eliciting a gasp from Jonathan, who arched his back in silent entreaty.

“I want you to fuck me senseless,” Jonathan said, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s your punishment for still seeing Béla in me. You have to do whatever I want.”

Dracula froze, his hands stilling on Jonathan’s body as if uncertain how to respond. Then, a slow smile curved his lips, and he laughed, the sound rich and full of promise. “Solicitor, I will gladly oblige your wishes, whatever they may be. Be as demanding of me as you desire. Such a lovely punishment.” He teased.

With deliberate slowness, Dracula pushed Jonathan onto the floor, his eyes never leaving the young man’s face. Jonathan’s heart hammered in his chest, anticipation and trepidation warring within him.

“Béla,” Jonathan suddenly gasped, his voice tinged with panic. “My dog. I need to check on him.”

Dracula’s fingers paused while unfastening Jonathan’s pants. He cocked his head to the side, listening. “I can hear his strong heartbeat. He’s fine. But you, child, should be more concerned for yourself.”

And with that, Dracula resumed his task, his hands moving with sure, practiced dexterity. Jonathan surrendered to the sensations, his mind whirling with a kaleidoscope of emotions.

Dracula pulls off Jonathan’s pants to his knees, and lifts his legs high. His tongue quickly found Jonathan’s hole. Jonathan moaned hotly. “If something happens to Béla, I won’t forgive you,” he whispered, his tone both seductive and warning.

“I will turn him,” he promised. “Once I’ve satisfied my cravings for you,”

“You better...”

“Be more concerned for yourself, boy.”

Dracula’s tongue delved into Jonathan’s most intimate place, the wet muscle probing and circling until Jonathan’s hole fluttered and clenched around it. Jonathan gasped, his back arching off the cold, filthy floor, hands gripping the ground. “Dracula!” he cried out, his voice raw with need.

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