Binding Kiss 5

Hungry servants eye only me as Amos leads me down hall after hall. I wonder briefly why my quarters are so far from the center of the mansion, but my question is answered as more and more servants fill the halls the closer we get to the dining room. It’s for my safety.

There’s more arousal than fear at the idea of being attacked. I find myself lost in thought, consumed entirely by fantasies of being consumed. When a servant brushes past and bares her fangs, I don’t flinch. Instead, I stare at the string of spit that’s connecting her top teeth to the bottom.

Amos pulls to the side of the hall after he gives the servants orders to leave us. His hand is on my cheek, tender, and I lean into it without thought. I’m overcome with longing to be his.

Deep down, I know it’s my eroticized desire to die taking a more comforting form. It doesn’t have to be him. But he’d be the softest way to go.

Amos is crouching slightly, eyes flitting back and forth as they search my face. I stare stupidly back at him, expectant. Something akin to pain crosses his face, It stays there as he begins to speak to me. “Oh Ezra, I’m sorry.”

I don’t want him to pull away. I place my hand on top of his, keeping his warmth pressed to my cheek.

“You don’t have to ever accept my apology. Words, actions, or otherwise. What I’ve done to you is dangerous, and I’m so sorry.” Faster than I can blink, he’s pulled me to him, my head buried in his chest as his hand curls in my hair, careful not to tug. His heartbeat is rapid with his guilt. I like being able to hear the thumping. “If I am to be your keeper, I will do my best to keep you safe.”

The rest of the walk to dinner is quiet. Amos has a tight grip on the leash, but he isn’t dragging me. Instead he’s letting me walk a bit to the side and in front of him, like I’m a well behaved pet on a walk with its master.

And isn’t that what I am? Hasn’t Amos tamed me entirely, only because he had something that made me feel good? I’m no better than a spring bird being hand-fed, somehow unaware that I’m waiting to get my neck snapped.

Amos allows me to remain lost in my thoughts as we enter the dining hall. He seats me next to him, and when I look across the table, I’m struck by the realization that I need to pay better attention to my surroundings.

The man from the middle seat from my first day here is across from me. His eyes have settled on me, a hunger I haven’t seen yet in his cold eyes. He looks a little older than Amos, and his edges are sharper, too. There’s something cruel to his features, especially in the paleness of his eyes, and that fact is only accentuated by the woman sitting not next to him, but in his lap.

She’s in a white dress similar to mine, but the top is tinged red. Her neck is made of bruises, and dried blood trails down from various puncture wounds; jewelry made from acts of cruelty.

Worst of all though is the woman’s obvious mental state. She’s baring her neck to him, eagerness apparent on her face. It’s made even more apparent by the grinding she’s doing on the man’s leg.

When I look up and down the table, similar scenes are playing out. Mindless laughter echoes throughout the dining hall.

I’m seeing what I am fated to be if I cannot find a way out. I shift in my seat, trying to stifle the arousal that’s blossoming in me.

The scent of the food that’s set out in front of me is almost enough to make me ill. It’s barely-cooked steak and red wine. Appropriate.

“You really should eat, you know.” A voice that isn’t Amos addresses me. It’s the older vampire. Unsure of whether or not I should say something in return, I drop my gaze from him down to my food.

“My brother is speaking to you, Ezra.” Amos chides, tone seemingly light. I can sense the hidden urgency that warns me to watch my step.

“Oh, leave her alone, Amos. It’s the poor things first feast. You must be frightened, hm?” His voice is sticky with false sweetness.

“I-I don’t want to be.”

A curious smile spreads across his face. “Well, then I suggest trying the wine. But not too much-I don’t want to kill Amos’s new pet so soon.”

I flinch. I can’t help it. I gulp down the glass only so I have a sensation to focus on other than rising bile.

“Cain,” Amos scolds, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t rile up my food.” It’s a joke, but there hasn’t ever been so much unspoken tension between me and Amos. Not yet.

Cain gives a polite but clearly fake laugh. “My apologies. I suppose I did say the poor thing must be frightened.” His attention is stolen away by the woman on his lap.

I don’t notice I’m staring until Amos leans down to whisper to me. “Eat your food, Ezra. You’re going to need it.” I know what he means without him having to say it. There’s an attempt on my part to conjure up the feeling of dread that should come naturally to the idea of being fed on, but I can do nothing to stem the excitement bubbling up in me. It’s akin to giddiness.

I turn my attention to eating, hoping the sensations might do something to distract me. I pretend not to notice every time Cain’s eyes flit my way. When they land on me, they linger. This must be what rabbits feel when they realize there’s a wolf that’s too close to run from.

“Ezra, get up. It’s time for the dance.” Amos pulls my chair out with me still in it.

“Dance?” My voice is meek as I look up at him. “You didn’t say anything about a dance.”

Amos sighs, stepping around my chair in order to grab my hand. “I know, and I’m sorry. This is how the vampires that want you signal to the rest of us to back off.” He’s leaning down to me, his voice a whisper.

“Why can’t you? Don’t you want me?”

“I do-” He cuts himself off. “I’m sorry I can’t protect you from this. Cain and the others won’t take kindly to me hoarding you, though, and I don’t want them to punish you in my stead.”

“Aren’t I yours?” Desperation coats my voice. I’m scared, I realize. I don’t want anyone to bite me but Amos. I want to be his. At that moment the only thing I’ve ever wanted is to be his.

I didn’t realize I was letting frightened tears fall until Amos wipes one away with his thumb. “Yes, Ezra. You’re my provider. But if they feel I’m hoarding you, they’ll want to steal you. I’ve seen it happen. People got hurt when it did.”

I take a deep breath, nodding my understanding. “Okay. Lead me to the floor so this can be over with.” I extend my hand out to Amos. He doesn’t look happy to be taking me out into the fray.

Clinging to him, I stare at our interlocked hands, not wanting to see so many starving pairs of eyes on me. Should I say starving? They’re well provided for. Greedy would be the better word. I am an object to be stolen, food to be consumed.

Eventually Amos and I come to a point on the floor where he has to hand me off. I’m mindless as I make the bare minimum of conversation with whoever I’m passed off to. I keep looking for Amos, seeing provider after provider bare their neck to him. I know I’m jealous. For the first time, I don’t wish I wasn’t.

I want him close to me. He’s the closest thing I have to someone that cares about me, that wants to protect me. Claims to, anyway.

Or does he see me like Cain sees me, and is better at hiding it? Does he get off on pretending to care?

I cannot nurture my anger long, as the next arms to catch me are Cain’s.

“Is my little brother’s pet enjoying herself?”

On top of the sudden wave of desire, dysphoria nestles its ugly head. Not what I want to be dealing with right now.

“I could recall few things more enjoyable than this.” I was hoping to stall until it was his turn to pass me. To my horror, he doesn’t. I’m his provider for the evening.

He leans down, mouth near my neck. The chill of his breath on my skin sends a wretched shiver down my spine. “I would ask what those few things are, but I only need to know the one.” He grabs my leash. I stiffen but find myself unable to pull away, too scared to make a move that might anger him.

“That’s not-” What? His?

Here, I belong to anybody who decides they want to use me. It doesn’t matter how much Amos pretends otherwise. Cain pulls me out of the dining hall, not caring that I’m nearly tripping every two steps because I can’t keep up with the force he’s leading me.

I wonder if Amos will notice I’m gone. Probably. Doesn’t guarantee me any sort of rescue, though.

Before I can come back to my surroundings from the thought of Amos fully, my collar has been unhooked from my neck and thrown to the floor, kicked to the side by Cain. He’s pinning me against the wall to the point I can barely move. I try in vain to push back against the firmness of his body, and he only presses into me harder.

“Do you know how sweet you smell, pet?” He’s talking to my bare throat, not to my face. “I can smell what an addict you are already.” With his hot breath on my neck, the aphrodisiac so close, my knees weaken. My wrists stop writhing in his grip.

He lets them go only to wrap his arms around my body and pull me in, sinking his fangs into my neck. I wrap my now free arms around his body, hoping to pull his fangs deeper into my flesh. I’d be sickened with myself if my rationale wasn’t so watered down by how much being fed on is getting me off. When Cain’s knee presses into my groin, I grind down against it, hoping he’ll push into me harder.

Even through the haze of aphrodisiac and the far away pain, I still find myself wishing it was Amos who was pressed against me. Part of me wonders if that will be my last living want, with how much force Cain is holding me against him.

That part is snuffed out when I feel a firm but gentle hand pull me away from the wall. The same gentleness was not offered to Cain, as when my eyes catch on him he is stumbling. I stifle a small laugh and instead turn my attention to our intruder.

Shouldn’t I consider him my savior? The pleasurable poison coursing through my veins is having me think otherwise. Amos bends down to pick the collar up, and without a thought I lift my head up so that fastening it is easier for him. He doesn’t put the collar on me, however, instead saying, “Cain, I think Ezra and I are going to be heading back to our quarters. I hope you enjoyed your meal.”

Something has gone terribly wrong on the inside of me. The murderous glower Cain is giving Amos makes me wish he’d reach out for me and feed again.

Amos takes me by the hand, not hard, through the castle halls the way we came without a word being spoken. But why won’t he look at me? Why do I want him to?

“Won’t Cain be angry with you?” I ask as we near our door.

“What, want him to bite you again?” Amos says as he pulls me through the room, sitting me down on the edge of the bed. The collar and leash dangle from his other hand, dragging on the floor.

Embarrassment rushes up to my face. Now I’m the one who can’t look at Amos. He forces me to when he sits on the bed beside me, tilting my head with his hands. A handkerchief presses against the wound on my neck. Amos uses patient movements with his index finger to swipe away the blood.

The utter high of Cain’s bite is wearing off, but having Amos take care of me like this isn’t a half-bad place to land. That is, until, as he’s tending to me, Amos says, “You really should be more careful, Ezra.”

With the comedown, the swallowing misery of what I just went through is setting in. The terror, the disgust, all of it boils over into fury. “Maybe I would have been if somebody hadn’t gotten me addicted to vampire spit.” I snap, and he’s surprised enough that I’m able to push past him off of the bed. “You can’t fucking pretend to care about me and then blame me for shit like that.”

The dumbfounded look in his eyes only makes the hot tears want to spill even more from mine. I grasp for my anger, holding it white-knuckled. “God, Amos. I’m food, aren’t I? Cain seems to not play with his, so why do you with yours? Why can’t you use me for what I’m for?” My voice cracks on the last word and the dam breaks, letting the tears pour forward.

Amos takes a step toward me. When I don’t take one back, he bridges the gap between us completely. One hand is on my shoulder, the other wiping tears away as he has done so many times for me already. He holds me like that for a moment. Shaking him off is a meager thought in my mind, no real power to its name. The tears stop, but he still strokes my cheek with his thumb.

“Ezra, can you look at me?”

It takes me a moment to do what is asked of me.

“How many times do I have to tell you? That’s not how I see you. I’ve never seen you that way.”

Blinking out renewed tears, I look up at him. “How could you possibly see me as anything else?”

Amos takes his hand away from my shoulder, wiping his mouth with the back of his fist. “May I show you?”

My brain is functioning as slowly as humanly possible, so I don’t register that Amos wants to kiss me until he does it. As soon as his mouth is on mine, though, it’s as if every possible thought about him barrages me at once.

His hand on the small of my back. The way it takes so little effort for him to pull me up to him. And his mouth is closed, lips pressed firmly together as they’re pressing against mine. My eyes flutter closed. He’s trying to give me a choice. He’s not stupid. With how the past couple of days have gone Amos knows the aphrodisiac isn’t out of my system. But he’s doing all he can in this moment to let me choose.

I wonder if that means he’s disappointed when I wrap my arms around him and open my mouth, an invitation. He doesn’t break away, but he doesn’t open his mouth, either. I walk us back toward the bed and drag us down to it, positioning it so that I’m under him. Surprise from the fall makes him gasp. I seize the opportunity, biting his bottom lip, tugging it toward me with my teeth. Amos shudders and steadies himself by placing his hands near either side of my head.

I wrap my arms around Amos’s neck and interlock my fingers at the nape of it. He’s looking down at me, and I’m stricken again by how uneven his hair is, much longer on his right than his left.

“Ezra, are you sure?”

Biting my lip is a necessity to hold in my laughter. I opt to let out a sigh instead. “We both know I can’t be sure I’ll always be okay with this. But this is the closest I can get to making a choice. Please, Amos, let me pretend to choose.”

Disappointment flashes across his expression but it is snuffed out with haste, morphing instead to a gentle understanding. “You lead, then.”

I oblige, pulling his face down to meet mine once again. My legs become wrapped around his back as I hold him to me, biting down hard on his lower lip. He doesn’t seem to mind. In response, he wraps one of his hands in my hair, pulling me to him while he pushes into me. The motion causes us to sit up.

Amos’s mouth pressing into mine feels like heaven reactivating in my veins. I don’t care if some other version of me could be horrified by this. Right now, it feels good. Right now, it feels like what I want.

I reach between us for the buttons on his shirt. Amos does the job for me, tossing his shirt to the side. He then places a finger on the top of my dress, cocking his head to the side in questioning. I nod. Shivers of excitement course through me. Not a second after I’ve given the go ahead, my dress is in two pieces and has joined his shirt on a pile on the floor.

“Let’s move. I want you on top of me.” I say this looking up at him with desperate eyes. There’s something melancholy in his face as he moves us to the center of the bed. The expression only deepens when I expose my neck to him.

Amos places a hand on my cheek and traces his thumb under one of my eyes. “Not yet, okay? Is that alright?”

I nod. “Then fuck me.”

Something in the air changes. All of the sudden, both of my wrists are in one of Amos’s hands.

“It’s not really fair, is it? Here I am, naked for you, and you still have your pants on.” I quip. Despite the circumstances, I want this to be fun. He’s. . .he’s my friend. He’s trying to take care of me.

Amos takes his free hand and moves it down to my thigh. He traces up and down, up and down, the point where the fabric of my underwear meets the exposed and sensitive skin of my thigh. “You’re not really naked though, are you?”

I can feel myself erupting with longing the more Amos presses his finger to my skin. “I want us both to be.” It’s a struggle not to stammer.

Amos tears my undergarments away. When he sits up and I don’t make a move to run away, he starts on his own clothes. He’s pretty as he undresses. I like seeing him on top of me, only moving away when he has to in order to strip. He finishes undressing, so he settles atop me once more. There is no move on his part to enter. I’m always pleasantly surprised by the warmth that emanates from him.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I’m going to go slow, at least at first. Is that alright?”

“Yes, Amos.” I pause. “Thank you. For trying to care.”

Without another word Amos’s mouth is on mine again and this time he doesn’t hesitate in opening up to me. I pull his tongue into my mouth. My body flexes with the hot pleasure supplied by the aphrodisiac. The question if there would be any pleasure if the aphrodisiac wasn’t involved is one for another day. Right now, I feel comforted by Amos’s body on mine, his hips grinding into my own as he kisses down my neck. It’s slow, and he uses his tongue. He wants this to feel good for me.

“Amos,” I whimper into him. It’s thoughtless. I don’t care how I sound right now. His mouth on me feels good, and I need him to know that. “Fuck, Amos.” I’m bucking up into him more desperately, hoping it helps him feel sure of us. At least in this moment, I want him to be sure of us.

Wave after wave of euphoria floods my entire being, making me crave Amos. After a few moments, kissing isn’t cutting it anymore.

“I’m starting to think you get off on making me wait.” I say. I can feel his cock, hard against me. I grind up.

“Maybe I like seeing just how much you want this.” A kiss is pressed to my forehead.

Flushing, I wiggle my wrists in his hands. “Amos.” It’s a command, a request, and begging all in one.

Amos understands. He lets my wrists go and moves his hands down to my hips. “I’m going to lift you now, okay?”

“Please fuck me, already, Amos. I can’t take it anymore.”

The change in the air from earlier intensifies and he lifts me so that my hips are lifted toward him at an incline. Amos is slow, careful, while he enters me. When my eyes aren’t rolling back into my head I can see him scanning my face for any changes, gripping the bed sheets to control himself. As he bottoms out inside of me I gasp, shuddering.

“Are you alright?” Amos takes one hand off of the bed to lift a strand of hair out of my face. It falls right back into it when I nod with vigor in response. There’s a brief moment of confusion on my end; my heart skips a beat because Amos smiles in return.

There’s no point in thinking about that right now.

“May I move?”

“Yes, Amos, please. Please fuck me. How many times do I have to ask?”

Amos doesn’t say anything in response. Instead, I see out of the corner of my eye that he begins gripping the bed sheets harder as he starts thrusting. Hard and fast. The burn is pleasurable at first, but I remember Amos isn’t human and if he’s not careful, he might kill me.

“Can you kiss my neck again? Please?” The words are a whimpering moan. He does as I ask. Seeming to take the hint, he slows his speed.

This is nice. Being surrounded by Amos so wholly makes me feel safe. That’s something I thought I’d never have again. I know it isn’t right. Anyone on the outside looking in would be right to be anything from skeptical to downright horrified. But my needs have become my wants, so I want this connection with him. External factors aside, right now, this is what I want. Amos here, with me, inside me. Taking me as his lover.

Maybe being his lover would make what I actually am more bearable.

He picks up speed again without signaling. I know he’s getting close. The pleasure building in my stomach starts being overridden by pain again.

“Amos,” I gasp out, “Amos, finish inside me. But bite me. Bite me so I can finish with you.”

The residue that is me before I came here isn’t happy that I didn’t ask because he was hurting me.

Without asking if I’m sure this time, Amos sinks his teeth into my neck. There is no pain from the bite. The orgasm that’s been building explodes as his fangs go deeper into my flesh, and the aftershocks that wrack my body afterward feel as intense as finishing. Amos holds me to him as he finishes inside, cradling my head while he feasts on my neck.

I feel so warm, so good, so safe, that I’m unable to tell Amos I’m on the verge of blacking out