Red Rose

Orlando woke again, for the umpteenth morning that month, with the failing vision of himself lying spread eagle on a bed strewn with dark sheets, being fucked into the mattress by a mysterious stranger with blue eyes. He groaned and rolled over, as the dream finally faded from his mind, only to be presented with a damp and sticky spot in his bedding. Muttering to himself about being 13 again, he dragged himself out of bed and into his bathroom to wash last night’s make-up and sweat from his body.

Viggo looked out across the skyline of New Orleans, as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, creating the illusion of the city being ablaze. The crimson and gold light highlighted Viggo’s strong, rugged features; Honey gold skin and rich, chestnut brown hair. Turning away from the balcony he moved deeper into his bedroom, pulling his hair back into an ornate clasp. He picked up his coat and walked out into the heavy night air.

Across the city Orlando was getting ready to go out for the night. Picking up his silk lace top stockings he rolled them up his soft, hair free legs until they reached mid thigh, running his hands down his legs to smooth out the wrinkles. He rose to retrieve his blood red belt and fastened it round his lithe waist, his matching blood red panties resting just below his jutting hips. Now came the difficult part, pulling up his deep, rich red short silk corset. He pulled it around his waist and chest; breathing in as he fastened the front clasp then reaching round he tightened the lacing, cinching his waist in. The corset highlighted and showcased his toned and slender body to perfection. The colour of his outfit matched the perfect creation of lush roses that wound their way over Orlando’s shoulders to trail unceremoniously down his back. The tattoo had been a present from an ex-lover. He then dusted his shoulders lovingly with a sparkling, shimmery, subtly perfumed powder that smelled of luscious rose blooms in midsummer. Pulling his fine brown hair, streaked with red onto the crown of his head with a jewel encrusted clasp, he left a few strands to brush against his face.

Orlando lined his delicate inner eyelids with a smouldering grey then dusted them with a charcoal eye shadow giving him a debauched look. He then carefully slicked his lips with cherry red gloss. With one last look in the mirror he deemed himself ready for work.

Viggo walked through the French Quarter, along Bourbon Street, away from the main city and bright lights of strip clubs and bars aimed at the tourists, and into the heart of the Quarter. In this district of the City Viggo drew no astonished stares or glances from passers by. Here he fitted in, prowling the streets dressed in rich, sumptuous fabrics. The scent of the river and old cigarettes assaulted the air and Viggo felt his hunger coil in his body. His fangs elongated until they pressed down onto his full lower lip a base reaction to the hunger he could feel growing inside him, yet still no one looked at him. His eyes glittered with a ghostly luminance.

Here Viggo blended in with the pale figures that accosted the alleys of the Quarter. Viggo soon heard the pounding beats of the industrial music played in Rose Red, the most illustrious club in the Quarter. Making his way past the long line of androgynous people eager to get in, he passed through the door, seemingly unnoticed.

He stalked down the long floor-to -ceiling mirrored corridor and into the club itself. The décor was a mix of ultra modern and baroque. The ceiling was a dark red that looked almost black, with blue and red lighting creating a bruised atmosphere. The whole interior was rendered in shades of red and blue, so that it looked like a glistening wound that dripped great frothy red roses. The detached and twisted interior reflected that of the patrons, giving the whole club a wickedly sensual atmosphere.

While Viggo had entered through the patron’s entrance, Orlando came in the staff entrance. Kicking off his battered red converse and taking off his knee length velvet coat, he reached into his bag for his spiked 4-inch heels. Placing them on his feet he strode out of the back and into the bar, his hips swaying provocatively. The pounding bar assaulted his senses as he turned to his first customer of the night. A boy, who could be no more than eighteen, wrapped in swathes of ebony lace, leaving nothing to the imagination as to what lay under the textured surface. Orlando asked no questions; he spoke only to utter "Yes please?" in his cultured British accent.

Nobody started dancing in the Red Rose till well after 11 o’clock. As midnight approached the bar became deserted and the dance floor a crowded writhing mass of bodies, undulating against one another. Orlando felt someone watching him, felt the gaze drift over his body with a hungry intensity. His body reacted to the gaze as it would a lovers caress; his nipples tightened and heat pooled between his legs. He scanned the club, trying to locate the owner of the gaze when his attention locked onto one of the most erotic things he had ever seen.

Viggo stood in the middle of the crowded club as the surrounding bodies undulated against him and writhed about his feet. Men and women rubbed around him, like cats in heat grinding their bodies against him. Their glistening, wet mouths releasing silent mews and moans of pleasure as they came to completion. Bodies caught in pleasurable agony, all the while Viggo stood silent in the middle of it, his only movement being to mouth one word, a name, his name. "Orlando".
Orlando stood shocked and aroused as images from his dreams flashed before his eyes. He lay spread eagle on his back, his cock buried in the hot silken mouth of the man before him. He straddled he mans lap, his fingers tangled in the chestnut depths as he writhed on his cock moaning like a whore. Orlando gasped as the stranger from his dreams moved towards him. stumbling backwards he hit the back wall of the club. He had no idea how he had come to be there, as he was supposed to be behind the bar.

Viggo advanced on the provocatively clad figure of Orlando. After visiting his dreams for over a month he would soon feel his silken soft skin against his own. Viggo pushed Orlando into the wall and pressed his hard body into the nubile form of Orlando, growling as he writhed against him. Viggo lowered his head down towards Oralando’s fragrant neck, and sank his needle-like fangs into the soft flesh. He moaned in the back of his throat as Orlando’s life blood rushed into his mouth and down his throat. He ground his erection into Orlando’s lace clad groin, forcing him to spread his legs wider.

Orlando whimpered as the vampire sank his fangs into the tender, sensitive flesh of his neck. A wave of raw lust flooded his body and he thrust his hands into the rich brown of the stranger’s hair, mewing in pleasure when he felt the pulsing heat of his erection come into contact with the vampire’s firm heat. Gasping, Orlando felt the stranger from his recent wet dreams rub against him dragging his erection up the length of Orlando’s needy arousal. Crying out in pleasure he felt electricity travel through his nerves and center in his groin, whimpering when he felt the vampire withdraw his teeth. Orlando ached to be filled by the razor sharp teeth and the aching length of cock. His own cock ached and throbbed in time to his heart beat, his neck to throbbing with heat from the kiss of a demon. Through his desire clouded mind Orlando remembered that he didn’t even know this mans name, gasping out the question foremost in his mind.
"What’s your name?"
"Viggo"
His voice rolled over Orlando; it felt like fur had run across his body, caressing his skin. To Orlando it felt as if Viggo’s voice was caressing parts of his body that shouldn’t be affected by a voice alone. Moaning in desperate pleasure Orlando rubbed against Viggo, pushing his hips forward into Viggo’s; grinding against him. Viggo’s eyes flashed, and he growled darkly at the thought of pushing the boy back into the wall, sinking his fangs into the other side of his neck, moaning as the boy’s rich blood flooded his mouth, increasing the vampire’s already potent arousal.

Orlando barely registered the sight he could see over the vampire’s shoulder. The club’s patrons were all in various states of undress, paired with each other. Beautiful brunette boys with ice cold Nordic girls. Ravishing redheaded girls clamped in the arms of raven haired temptresses, all performing various sexual acts, and Orlando was suddenly hit with the realisation that Viggo appeared to have infused the club with heightened arousal, it throbbed like an entity in the air, pulse like to the beat.

Orlando wanted to be taken home, taken to the sumptuous satin covered bed that he’d seen in his dreams. He wanted to be ravished in all the ways he had fantasised about. Pushing against Viggos chest his cherry red nails stood out like drops of fresh blood glistening against the black silk of the vampire’s shirt. Orlando felt the loss of Viggos teeth, and turning his liquid gaze to meet the arctic depths of his would-be lover whispered, "take me home and fuck me like I’ve seen in our dreams".

Viggo’s pupils dilated, nearly swallowing the iris, and the thin slither that could be seen glowed an icy blue, like glass with a glittering candle behind it.
Listening to this boy’s soothing voice implore him to take this lithe androgynous creature home and spend all night buried in his silky depths was more than enough consent for Viggo.
Grasping the boy’s hand, he pulled him away from the wall, watching as Orlandos stiletto heels exaggerated the sway of his hips.