Page 21 of Dracula: Bound in Blood

He leaned down, his tongue lapping at the cum that spilled between them, tasting the salty sweetness of Jonathan’s release.

Jonathan tried to protest, but the sensation was too much. He felt himself growing hard again, his body betraying him as Dracula’s tongue teased him. He let out a gasp as the Count bit down on the tender flesh between his thighs, the pain mixing with pleasure in a way that made his head spin.

Dracula’s eyes flashed with satisfaction as he saw Jonathan’s reaction. He knew he should feel guilty for using the boy this way, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted more. He needed more.

He began to lick and suck at Jonathan’s cock, his mouth working in a steady rhythm that left the young man panting and writhing beneath him. His fangs grazed the sensitive skin of Jonathan’s inner thigh, sending a jolt of pleasure through his body.

Jonathan’s fingers tangled in Dracula’s hair as he felt himself getting closer to the edge. He couldn’t believe how good and right it felt to be with another man like this. Dracula’s ministrations were relentless, and Jonathan came again with an embarrassing shout, his body trembling with pleasure.

Dracula flipped him onto his stomach as if he were a rag doll. His hands gripped his hips tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled the boy onto his knees. The Count’s movements were rougher and more urgent.

The Count entered him again. He could feel that massive cock thicken and lengthen inside of him, stretching even more than before. Dracula’s movements were no longer slow and deliberate; instead, they were wild and uncontrolled.

Jonathan could hear the Count’s breaths coming in ragged gasps, his body slamming into his with a force that made the bed creak and groan beneath them in a rhythm that turned him on. Dracula’s hips snapped forward, his cock thrusting deep inside as he chased his own release.

The solicitor could hear the sound of bones cracking and reforming, the growls that escaped Dracula’s lips growing deeper and more guttural.

The Count’s movements became more animalistic, his body moving with a feral grace that was both terrifying and arousing. Hairy claws dug into the soft pink skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Teeth snapped and gnashed, and the low growls emanated from his chest as he claimed this strong young body beneath him. His reason fleeing with each rippling wave.

Jonathan was on fire, every nerve ending alight. He could feel himself growing hard again, his cock straining as Dracula’s movements became more frenzied. He felt so nasty, and so good!

‘No, he’s tearing me apart.’ Jonathan thought in his near state of blood loss and delirium. ‘If I don’t get away…’

Jonathan’s mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The pain of Dracula’s rough thrusts mixed with the pleasure of his arousal, created a sensory overload that left him teetering on the edge of consciousness. He could feel the warm trickle of blood running down his arm where something sharp pierced and gripped him the tightest. If this went on…he needed to escape before it was too late!

But at the same time, the heat, the sex, the wild untamed frenzy of it all was driving him wild! He found himself caring less and less; he wanted to give in, sink into the abyss, and never return. If he died here. Would it even matter? Perhaps Lucy would be the only soul crying for him. He found himself begging Dracula to keep going, to never stop. He wanted to feel the Count’s teeth sink into his flesh again!

He could feel himself slipping away to the sounds of their naked, sweating bodies slapping away. He was powerless to resist the Count’s touch, and he found himself surrendering completely.

He could feel his orgasm building, the pressure in his lower belly growing with each thrust. He knew he was so close.

Through the blurred vision, sheets beneath him were stained with a blackened wet substance. ‘Is this, my blood?’

Jonathan tried to focus, gather his strength, and push Dracula away. But the Count’s grip was like iron, and he found himself pinned in place, unable to move. He could feel his heart racing, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps as he teetered on the brink of unconsciousness.

Jonathan cried out as teeth sank onto his shoulder, the pain sharp in its intensity. But he didn’t want Dracula to stop, not now, not when he was so close. Dracula’s thrusts became more frantic, more desperate, and Jonathan could feel the rising flutter of an orgasm.

But then, without warning, he stopped, pulling out of Jonathan, his body trembling as he looked down at the blood soaking into the bed.

The once-pristine sheets were now stained crimson. The air was heavy with the metallic scent of blood, mingling with the musk of their lovemaking.

Dracula stood at the foot of the bed, his body trembling with each ragged breath. His eyes, wild and unfocused, darted between Jonathan’s prone form and his own blood-stained hands. His face was a mask of horror and self-loathing, his features twisted in a rictus of shame and despair. He had transformed into a beast mid-coitus without knowing, a beast that would have surely killed the boy as he burst inside! The Count was confused and frightened of his own dark power for the first time since he had first acquired them centuries ago. He had never lost control of himself before. The beast in him, even now, looked at the strong lithe body wrecked and ruined on a bed of midnight black blood and marveled at its dirty work. Oh how it wanted to twist that body beneath him again and again before ripping out pieces of its flesh and devouring every last morsel!

“You... you must leave here at once!” Dracula growled, his voice a raw, guttural sound that seemed to claw its way from the depths of his tortured soul. “These... urges cannot be sated, do you understand? Not with an abomination like me!”

The words hung in the air like a death knell, each syllable dripping with equal parts hunger and disgust. Dracula’s fistsclenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms as he fought against the monstrous urge to finish what he had started.

Jonathan lay amidst the ruined bedding, his mind adrift in a sea of conflicting sensations. The ecstasy of their union still thrummed through his veins, intertwining with the sharp, sweet pain of Dracula’s bite. In his delirium, the boundaries between pleasure and agony had blurred, leaving him in a state of transcendent vulnerability.

Jonathan’s face burned with shame and confusion, the emotional whiplash of unleashing his darkest yearnings only to have them cruelly denied, threatening to tear him apart. He couldn’t really feel the pain anymore; he couldn’t really feel anything anymore.

“No, please... don’t make me go,” Jonathan pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling down his pale, bloodied cheeks. “I... I need you. Don’t make me go back out there.”

The raw honesty in Jonathan’s words cut through. The Count’s fierce expression faltered for a moment, revealing a glimpse of the lonely, tormented soul beneath.

“You don’t understand what you’re saying,” Dracula said, his voice softer now but no less pained. “I am a monster. A creature of darkness and blood. I can offer you nothing but death and damnation.”

Jonathan struggled to sit up, his body weak from blood loss. He reached out a trembling hand towards Dracula, his eyes shining with a mixture of fear and undeniable love. Or perhaps reverence for this monster, this thing he just knew was taking a human form. Was he the devil or an angel here to set him free? He wasn’t sure; all he knew was that he could not return to London. What fleeting encounter in some back alley could match what he felt right now? The Count was death himself, all-encompassing and all freeing from the trappings of his tedious existence, and he had made love to it, wanted it inside of him again, wanted it to end him.

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