Dark Dominion

Ian Awakens [M]

[Content warnings: Explicit sexual violence, non-consent (within the italicized portion), trauma. For Mature readers only. Please read at your own discretion.]

"No! Please. Please stop..." Ian's voice faded, his pleas falling on cruel and uncaring ears.

The vampire continued to thrust into him, pushing his length inside Ian's abused hole. No matter how many times he had been used as such, he could never get used to the pain. It hurt so much.

Ian tried to loosen his muscles. Perhaps that would make this easier, but his body fought all on its own. And the vampire seemed to enjoy the resistance.

"If you are not strong enough to handle this, how can you handle being a vampire?" Sir Charles spoke effortlessly—as if this act was nothing for him. As if he didn't need to exert himself breathless while holding down the weak human and driving into him.

Ian whimpered into the luxurious pillows of Sir Charles' bed. He clutched onto the sheets and willed the vampire to be done soon.

"And spreading your legs for my brother won't convince him to choose you."

No! Ian didn't voice it—there was no use. Sir Sten would never do this to him. He had always been kind.

Charles continued to ground him into the bed. Relentlessly, seemingly endless, when finally the pace turned erratic. Ian felt relief then, even with the sharper thrusts.

Almost there. Hold on a little longer. Sten promised him. He said he would choose Ian. Sir Charles wouldn't touch him if he couldn't drink from him—if he were a vampire too. Right?

Charles reached around and stroked Ian's hard cock, and Ian flinched. He hated how his body reacted. Nothing about this felt pleasurable.

"So responsive, even as you pretend to hate it. This"—Charles squeezed around his prick painfully—"is what your body is good for."

Charles leaned down and wrapped his hand around Ian's neck to pull him up. Finally, he tore his fangs into flesh and drank deeply.

He tried not to, he always tried not to, but Ian still came. Tears fell as Charles filled him, drinking too much of his blood. He enjoyed weakening the boy, but he never took enough to kill. It was what he always did after Ian caught his eye—seven long years ago.

He finally released him to collapse atop the soft bed. He crouched over Ian's exhausted body, pinning him further into the mattress with his muscled chest.

"Don't worry, my precious Ian." A chilling whisper in his ear. "When my brother rejects you, I will make you my thrall."

Ian screamed internally, too obedient and spent to scream his sorrow out loud. No! Sten was going to make him a vampire. He would become strong. Charles would never have him.

The vampire faded away along with his surroundings, and the scream he thought only in his mind rang in his ears and resounded around the room.

Ian opened his eyes.

It had been a dream—no, a memory...

It took a moment for the sickening feelings to fade and for Ian to realize what he had woken up to. He sat up in the bed.

The sunlight was too intense. The room came in too vividly, despite his glasses laying on the side table. His tongue ran across teeth too sharp. And his body felt too light, even as the blanket easily tore in his grasp. Strength.