Blood Source

[Protocol]

Blood Source

Samuel Mathias Fey gets an unusual gift for his nineteenth birthday. Something, or someone, he definitely does not want. Unfortunately this isn't the kind of gift he can just return, at least, not alive.


Nicolai Roman is in for a big surprise. Unfortunately for him, he happens to be Samuel's 'type,' in more ways than one.

 

[geewhiskers]

Nicolai took one last drag of fresh air before entering the Underground, the smell of alcohol and smoke filling his lungs, sweaty bodies and too hot air. It was suffocating, yet somehow it was everything he loved. Teetering on the edge between reality and drowning, he felt breathless from the moment he entered the room. He skirted around the dancing people, lazily making his way towards the bar with a walk that said he had nowhere to be anytime soon. It was relaxed, the swing of his hips a little more prominent than you might expect in most men, but he was vastly different from most.


Blonde hair was already sticking to the back of his neck, and he was grateful for his choice of cutoff jeans and a sleeveless shirt. It didn't show him off as much as he would have liked but it was his usual attire for nights like these, when he was just looking for a buzz that he wouldn't remember tomorrow.


Oh, if only he knew what the night had in store for him.


There were few seats at the bar, mostly occupied by those now too drunk to stand, and Nic was fine with that. He adopted his usual stance as he waited for his drink, leaned against the sticky countertop, hip jutted out, one hand frequently visiting his blonde hair to brush it out of his face so it could fall right back into his eyes. He enjoyed people watching as he nursed his first drink, torn between getting out on the floor or ordering another and getting properly smashed before having some fun.

 

[Protocol]

Oliver Beckworth POV

Oliver leaned against one of the shadowed enclosures of Underground and took a drag of his cigarette. It didn't affect him. Drugs couldn't affect the undead. It was an excuse to lurk on the outskirts of the club as he hunted for his next victim. He blew out a string of bitter smoke, eyes shifting through the throng of sweat slicked skin and gyrating limbs on the dance floor. The music beated in time with the enticing thud of dozens of hearts. He wasn't picky about what he ate, but he wasn't looking for dinner this time.


In fact he’d just finished feeding a few minutes ago. The woman was still recovering in the enclosure behind him, all long dark limbs and thick silky-smooth curls. The nooks were spelled so that mortals’ attention would glide over them, but even if someone had been paying too much attention, it would have looked like a couple that had gotten a little too heated in their makeout session. The woman wouldn’t remember a thing, except a vague memory of overwhelming pleasure. There wouldn’t even be a mark to remember him by. He smirked, maybe he’d leave her his number. She’d been a vegan and tasty as hell.


No. He wasn’t looking for dinner. Boss Man had a very...particular order for tonight and Oliver wanted to be the one to deliver. It was always smart to be on the Boss Man’s good side.


Just as luck would have it, the perfect specimen came in at that moment with a walk that was a tad too sensual to be natural. Oliver watched the boy glide across the floor to the bar and rolled the cigarette between long thin fingers. The kid, and he was a kid compared to Oliver who was just hitting his sixth decade, was leaning against the bar hip cocked like he wanted to attract attention.


He was young, too young to be drinking, but the place turned a blind eye on that sort of thing for a reason. It was in Oliver’s favor this time. Boss Man’s request had been for a young man, late teen to early twenties. Check. Blond. Check. Slim sensual figure. Check. Gay...Maybe. That would take a little bit more investigation.


Oliver dropped his cig and put it out with a twist of his shoe, before stalking toward the bar. He leaned against the bar next to his target, arms folded over the sticky surface. “Oi Allen,” he called to the bartender and then smiled, “classic Manhattan.” He turned to his target and held out a hand. “Name’s Oliver. Let me buy you a drink.”

 

[geewhiskers]

Nicolai wasn't really a bad kid, but he was never a particularly good one either. It wasn't hard to fall into the lifestyle he had, and certainly not with his circumstances. Absent father-- went to the store one day and still hadn't come back --, sickly mother, and a half-brother that was a golden boy. Quarterback football player, full ride to a great school, always popular with everyone, even our neighbors loved to talk about him, brag to their friends. It was easy to slip into his role, subpar, never going to be as great as his brother was. He never even tried.


Instead, he excelled here. In a building full of delinquents and party-sceners, being sober here made you the odd one. He had the perfect pouty lips, the shocking blue eyes that attracted the attention of whomever he settled them on, the soft gold hair that gave them the excuse to invade his personal space and touch. It came naturally to him, and he learned to enjoy it, embrace it. He brandished the art of small talk and flirtation like a weapon, and it was like he'd been raised with a sword in hand.


He'd been casually chatting with the girl next to him when another body pressed in on the other side of him, calling for the bartender by name. It caught his attention, for no reason that he would understand then, but it was like signing his soul away as he shook the proffered hand. "Mojito. Entertain me and maybe I'll let you buy me a second." He was confident, it was part of his charm, like the way his lips curled at the corners and he held his hand a little longer, leaning into his space. It helped that he was already buzzed, having been working through his second drink, though his next choice of drink was specifically chosen for it's low alcohol content. Unfortunately for him it was also strong, and would easily mask his kryptonite.

 

[Protocol]

Oliver Beckworth POV

Oliver nodded, flashing the kid a sexy smile, and waved for the bartender, "Mojito, for my friend here." Oliver didn't have to say or do anything for Allen to know what to do. Oliver didn't need to watch to know that Allen prepared the Mojito and slipped in a flunitrazepam, more commonly known as Rohypnol or roofie.


Oliver reached out and touched the guy's soft golden hair, running his fingers through it, and leaned close so that his breath brushed the others' lips. "Entertain you how exactly?"


Allen grunted and shoved their drinks at them, making Oliver let the kid go. He looked at the others' pupils to see if he'd gotten a reaction. He really hoped the guy was gay, he fit everything else to the letter. He even had the right blood type if Oliver's nose was correct.


If the kid was gay then all Oliver would have to do is wait for the guy to finish his drink and keep him talking for the twenty to thirty minutes until the drug started to kick it. If worst came to worst however, he could always just overpower the kid and throw him over his shoulder, but he'd rather not cause a scene.

 

[geewhiskers]

Nic had always tried to deny being gay, to a point. It just seemed too typical, between his attire and his personality, he didn't want to become a stereotype he'd hated since he'd been old enough to know of it. Though he played indifferent very well with both genders, it was pretty easy to tell that his eyes tended to stray towards pretty boys, rather than pretty girls. Made it hard for even him to pretend. The way men approached him, just as Oliver had, made it quite obvious for him that everyone else wasn't buying his straight-act either.


Maybe once upon a time he would have tried harder, acted uninterested, made the guy sweat a little bit. But it'd been a long, shitty day and whatever little Ollie could offer to take his mind off it, he'd take. There was no point in playing hard to get when, frankly, he wasn't. The thought doesn't even cross his mind that he could be roofied, it never had, not any of the hundred times he's let someone else buy him a drink. Maybe it was like the same way he didn't really look twice before he crossed the road, why should he care? It wasn't like many people were around to miss him.


It startles him slightly when their drinks arrive, embarrassingly able to admit he'd been a bit too distracted by Oliver's voice and face. His lips shaped words in a way that should have been illegal, and he only barely manages to gather his wits about him in time to take his drink. The first sip slid down his throat like a breath of fresh air, cooling the fire that was fighting it's way through his body, two drinks in and inhibitions fading. "Why don't we finish these and go find somewhere private to talk?" He asks, purposefully taking a long drink to accentuate his eagerness. Perhaps it was slutty of him, easy, he was playing right into a trap and hadn't the slightest idea. His teeth worked his bottom lip in a showy way.

 

[Protocol]

Oliver Beckworth POV

It was almost too easy. Oliver watched the other take a long drink and the movement of the young man’s slender neck as he swallowed. Pale teeth worked at plush kissable lips. Oliver stood, trailing a hand down the kid’s spine as he leaned close. “I know the owner, how about we head down to the VIP lounge?”

The VIP lounge was in the basement. It was legendary at Underground. No one got in without special connections and everyone who’d ever gone had said that they couldn’t talk about it, but it had been one of the best nights of their lives. What they didn’t know was that the VIP room was where vampires went when they wanted a little more privacy than the dark enclosures. It was a place to test out new blood slaves before taking them home.





Oliver motioned with his head for the other to follow, his lids half masted. This was perfect. He couldn’t think of a better or more pleasurable way to distract the young man until the drugs settled.

 

[geewhiskers]

It was hard to remember much but how it felt. Being taken down to the VIP lounge, finishing off his drink and watching Oliver with a sly smile, motioning him closer. He was certainly drunk enough, and he couldn't deny the physical appeal the other creature offered. Clothes hadn't even started coming off when he started to get sloppy, when his vision started getting weird, and he cursed his body for making him such a lightweight. Even that didn't make sense though, he hadn't had that much, but nothing really made sense. It didn't make sense when Oliver pulled him off the couch and started dragging him back upstairs, it didn't make sense that he didn't try to argue, or even ask what was happening. Or maybe he did, but found his lips couldn't quite form the words, and things came out in a slur.


He remembers when his legs stopped working and when the cold air hit his face, losing the ground beneath his feet and being lifted into the air, then shut into the back of a car.


The effects of the drug had worn off by the time Nicolai woke up, but things still didn't make sense. There were no telltales sign of the nights debauchery, which usually meant he'd be lacking in clothing and a decent bit sore. Rather, he was still fully clothed, down to his shoes, and very alone in likely the nicest, cleanest bed he'd ever had the pleasure of waking up in. The room, upon inspection, was quite spotless just as well.


Slipping his legs off the bed he can feel the leftover effects of alcohol, a decent headache making his forehead throb and even make him a little dizzy. For a second the room spins before coming back into focus. "Fuck," he swears under his breath, touching a hand to his face, and he would most certainly kill right then for a painkiller and a drink.

 

[Protocol]

Samuel Mathias Fey POV

Samuel should have known what he’d find in the bedroom next to his. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting exactly when Demetri had pulled him aside to inform him about his latest birthday gift, but it wasn’t this. He’d open the door to find an attractive blond in cutoffs and a sleeveless shirt, sitting on the edge of the bed. A very attractive human blond.


“Fuck,” Samuel echoed. The young man’s scent wafted over to him and his stomach clenched, mouth suddenly dry. When was the last time he’d drank from the source? One, two years ago? When Oliver took him to the club and just handed him a woman’s wrist, the veins already open and blood starting to drip down her fingers.


He’d thrown up afterwards, disgusted with himself. The memory still made him nauseous, and left a copper tang on his tongue. The thing was that in the moment he’d enjoyed it. The pulse against his mouth, blood hot and fresh, the difference between blood from a bag and the source was phenomenal. It was like comparing freshly baked warm bread with stale biscuits that had been left out too long.


The guy had the prettiest blue eyes. He was so freaking pretty and Samuel just wanted to touch the guy’s hair, kiss those plush lips, bite the smooth curve of his neck. “Fuck.” He didn’t swear often, but this was a special case. Samuel pinched the bridge of his nose and looked away.“Please tell me you’re someone else’s blood source and you’re just lost.”

 

[geewhiskers]

Nicolai's still slightly addled brain completely dismissed the other man in the room, at first. It was when he heard the second expletive and the words blood source that he started to properly shake off the effects of his involuntary nap. He was on his feet in a blink, flipped around so he could face the man who stood in the doorway. His eyes scanned the room like he might find another exit, but the only plausible escape route was being blocked by the stupidly handsome guy saying stupid things with his stupid mouth. "Don't come any closer to me, I'm not afraid to hit you!" He doesn't so much yell as he commands, but it sounds weak and shaky and his voice cracks from disuse in the beginning.


Trying to piece pieces of this puzzle together was impossible, and it wasn't just the aftereffects of the drug. If he heard the stranger correctly, absolutely nothing was going to make sense, no matter how he added it up. "Are you fucking insane? Or stupid? Where am I?" It was more obvious that Nic was frightened than anything, on the defensive and feeling corned like a scared animal. He wasn't joking about hitting the guy though, he may be smaller and have a slightly feminine (but hella fine!) shape, but he was a scrappy thing and he would put up a fight before he let this guy touch him. Or anyone else for that matter. Except that blonde from last night.

 

[Protocol]

Samuel Mathias Fey POV

Samuel took the hottie’s response as a ‘no.’ He had to choke back a snort when the other threatened to ‘hit’ him. As if the slender, human, blond could even hope to leave a mark on his skin. Though it wasn’t all that funny, when he considered that the man could have run into a different vampire, like Melissa, who liked to play with her victims. She liked to watch them fight the inevitable, like a cat with mouse.


The guy looked absolutely terrified.


Samuel sighed and held his hands up away from his body in a sign of peace. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Not if he had a choice. Plus, according to Oliver, and some other vampires who’d talked to Samuel about it, a vampire’s bite could be...enjoyable for both parties. “We’re...actually if you want to get out of here, it’s probably best you know as little as possible.” He really hoped the guy didn’t know anything about vampires yet, because as soon as he knew that secret, well Demetri would find a way to shut him up one way or another.


Samuel was already trying to figure out a way to get the blond out of there without any of the other vampires noticing.

 

[geewhiskers]

Nic was still pretty disoriented. Keeping himself upright was a task, and the thought of trying to throw a punch made his stomach turn, but fortunately he doesn’t have anything to come up. He can’t remember the last time he ate; he doesn’t even know how much time had passed since that night at the bar… After going down to the VIP lounge, everything just got blurry, it was like trying to look through a dirty window and no matter how much he squinted, it didn’t make the image any clearer.


There was one thing he knew for sure, and that was his kidnapper (yes, that’s what he was going to refer to him as furthermore) had most certainly, without a doubt said blood source.


“Oh gods, please tell me I wasn’t kidnapped by a bunch of cannibals. Nonono, I’m too pretty to be eaten, gods I don’t even have any meat on me for you to enjoy!” Frantic, wide-eyed, possibly on the verge of fainting. That was Nic with his new realization, and he was oddly both very close to the mark and also very, very far from it. “Just let me go, I won’t tell anyone, I swear.” A thought occurred to him, coming right out of left field at a hurtling pace, and he couldn’t stop his brain from turning it into words in time. “Did you take O… Olaf too?” Oliver… close enough.

 

[Protocol]

Samuel Mathias Fey POV

Samuel should have let the cannibal comment go. Though the way the guy reacted was pretty cute. His gaze drifted over the human. Yeah, there was definitely a lack of 'meat' there. Sam bet he could bounce a quarter off that ass. He shook his head quickly and tried to focus on the conversation. Oh yeah. Cannibals.


Rolling his eyes in frustration, Sam shut the door and walked towards his new 'blood source.' He couldn't let him go now. Not if he was going to go on blabbing about cannibals and getting the cops involved. "We're not cannibals. We're vampires. And I have no desire to 'eat' you so calm down." There had be something he could do. Maybe he could ask someone to wipe the man's mind. Considering that he was most likely a birthday gift from Damian, he doubted anyone would help. "Olaf? Fuck don't tell me there's more of you." He scanned the room, but he didn't see or hear anyone else. Olaf was a dumb name too.


The blood source's heart had spend up earlier, when he'd thought that Sam was a cannibal. The intoxicating aroma filled the room, making his mouth water. He was so damn hungry all the time. Blood bags could sustain a vampire, but they weren't very nutritious or tasty. He had to drink three times as much bagged blood to get all the nutrients he needed. Unconsciously he licked his bottom lip and looked at the guy's neck.

 

[geewhiskers]

Nic swallowed the lump in his throat as the cannibal- no, vampire -starting stalking towards him. And perhaps stalk was a dramatic word, but he felt like a cornered animal, or perhaps a juicy piece of meat surrounded by lions that hadn’t eaten in years. He took two quick steps back, and that was as far as he could go before his shoulder blades hit the wall and he swore under his breath, barely keeping his legs under him.


Shock was starting to settle into his bones, the hair on his arms standing up as he broke out in a cold sweat. “Vampires aren’t real.” Came his stubborn answer, all the conviction in the world behind his tone. They weren’t, they were a thing of books, movies, a fantasy other-world. It was almost laughable; he would have asked if he were trying to pull one over on him if it were any other situation. But this wasn’t any other situation, because normally he didn’t go to the bar and wake up the next day kidnapped and stuck in a room with a reasonably-hot-but-psychopathic insane person.


His eyes followed the movement of his tongue to the strangers’ lips, momentarily mesmerized, until he realised his eyes weren’t focused on his face, but rather further down. Almost unconsciously he tilted his head slightly to the side, inviting, which was when he came to his senses. The two steps back were quickly retaken, and his fist went flying through the air, hoping to catch his jaw but his eyes were squeezed shut so tight that any flesh would have been satisfying to him. “I told you not to come any closer! Let me go!” His demand is almost cute, except it was accompanied by an attempt to dash for the door.

 

[Protocol]

Samuel Mathias Fey POV

The human had tilted his neck inviting Sam closer. He could see the jugular artery throbbing in the delicate arch of the man’s neck. The skin was soft, flushed pink and… The human squeezed his eyes shut and swung a fist. It fell laughably far from his mark. “I told you not to come any closer! Let me go!” He demanded before dashing to the door.


Sam's hand struck out, grabbing the boy’s wrist without thinking. While Sam didn’t have any superhuman strength or speed, malnourished from lack of fresh blood, he still had the average strength of a human his size. ”Stop that!” He could feel the man’s thready pulse under his fingers. Fast and strong. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. ”I’m on your side.” The others of his kind wouldn’t be and they far outweighed the blood slaves within the community. Not all of them would know that the blond was off-limits. Technically he wasn’t until Sam claimed him.

 

[geewhiskers]

Nicolai whimpers, a pathetic humming noise that starts in his throat and makes his skin thrum from the vibration. The hand wrapped tight around his wrist was almost painful, and him tugging uselessly on it did not help matters, but there was a desperate fever to it. There was a dark voice in the back of his head telling him to get far away from the vampire, vampire for gods sake.


One look had almost undone him, even his touch now made his skin shiver, he couldn’t imagine the things that would happen if those hands roamed.


“How are you on my side?” Nic growled, sounding much more confident than he felt. He jerked his arm away one more time, again with no luck, before letting it sag to his side. “You’re keeping me here, aren’t you? You’re not helping me…” Though he wasn’t aware of the other vampires, the less kind and less accommodating vampires. The ones that Samuel was protecting him from, unbeknownst to him.

 

[Protocol]

Samuel Mathias Fey POV

“How are you on my side?” The blond growled with feigned anger, but Sam could feel the others’ pulse, the slight trembling of his arm. The man moved to pull away, with no effect, only to let his arm sag to the side. The muscles under his fingers loosened in defeat and Sam’s gut dropped, sicked. The vampire flicked his eyes away, unable to bare the way the other looked at him. ”You’re keeping me here, aren’t you? You’re not helping me…”


He released the boy with a jerk, stalking towards the door before leaning back against it and blocking the exit. He folded his arms and pinched his eyes shut. Sam had to force his jaw to unclench to speak. ”Just trust me for one second will you? I promise I won’t hurt you.”


Did biting count as hurting someone? From what Sam had heard, the experience could be...pleasant for the human. Shaking his head, he took a deep breath before letting it out through his teeth. ”Listen for one second and I’ll try to explain. If afterwards you still want to leave I’ll let you. Okay?” He couldn’t believe what he was saying. Scrubbing a hand over his face he groaned. He was going to get the human killed. Of course he’d ask to be let go and then Samuel would have to follow him, discreetly, until he ran into trouble and then they’d be back to square one.