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Two for one today! I wanted to do something really vicious to Ira. I ran out of time, though–and also I forgot to consider how he gets out of this alive. Maybe this is Ira’s vampire AU origin story.
Using Lauren the Corgi’s Promptober list.
CWs: vampires, blood, torture, sex
***
“This one,” a man’s voice is saying as Ira’s dragged stumbling forward. A musty burlap sack over his head blocks out all but vague shapes glimpsed through the holes in the weave. “Roguishly pretty. Unique scent to the blood. I haven’t tasted it yet; you’re paying for the privilege of popping the cork, after all.”
The sack is pulled from his head. He flinches, hard. The sudden brightness of the room feels like a hard slap across his face.
Besides the one holding onto him, two people are standing around him. All of them, he sees through squinting eyes and tears of light-induced pain, are in evening wear. None of them are quite human. They have the hard, coldly elegant lines of vampires—like if you took a human and made them slightly into a spider.
The room is beautiful too—inlaid wood floors and a gilded crystal-dripped chandelier. It’s furnished for an expensive party. Except for a really alarming spot toward the back, where there’s a meat hook suspended over a metal tub.
Ira backs up, having an epiphany that finding the lair of the vampires who’ve been kidnapping his friends by arranging to get kidnapped himself might’ve been…rash. There’s a feral red light in their eyes—a predator’s interest in tasty-looking prey.
“Oh he does smell quite fine, doesn’t he?” the man not holding his arm comments.
The woman has a wicked little smile on her face. “A little scuffed but handsome. I like it. Artful.”
They all grab him and drag him toward the meat hook. “No no no no!” he shouts, but their strength–they don’t even seem to notice him struggling or trying to dig in his heels on the floor.
“Hup!” the woman says, and they lift and spin him. His entire body screams with the agony of that point spearing through him. His voice probably screams too, but he’s a bit too occupied to notice.
The agony doesn’t fade. It drags meathook-claws through his whole body, especially his entire shoulder area, which is supporting his whole weight. All but mindless with it, he reaches up–whoa oh shit no he doesn’t. His throat hurts–yeah, he may be screaming. Okay, he reaches up with one arm, whose shoulder isn’t hooked, and tries frantically to grab hold of the fucking thing to take some of his weight off that before it rips him apart.
For all the good it does.
Things start to go woozy. Blood dripping, warm and soft like a blanket. Warmest thing in this quickly-coldening world. It’s hard to figure which way is up, except that it hurts the most. He passes out. He might be dying, he reckons. See you on the other side.
First, there’s music. Beautiful elegant strings. Then there’s the smell of blood–awful, thick, the kind of blood-smell you get when there’s way too much of it for somebody’s health. Then there’s light, filtering through his closed eyelids, and shushing and swooshing noises, and the casual chatter of many voices at a well–mannered level.
And then there’s…bliss. Floaty, airy, rarified bliss that makes him gasp and flutter his eyes open to see what’s injecting this heavenly feeling straight into his veins. There’s a gorgeous, predatory-looking man in evening wear standing right in front of him, a lock of his black hair tumbling into his face as he gnaws fanged teeth in Ira’s left wrist.
The vampire’s bite transforms pain into pleasure. The multi-needle pain of the bite is a delicious counterpoint, a wicked little frisson of pain and danger that offsets the sweet soft fizz rolling through him. The hook thrust brutally through his shoulder and locking him into place is a phallic, whole-body intrusion–fixed and hard, locking his entire body into place with pain that radiates through muscles and tendons trying desperately to tense up and mitigate further damage. It makes his entire body swim with the pleasure of his suffering.
He realizes at about this time that they’ve lowered the hook so that his feet reach the ground. He scrabbles loopily to get his legs under him. It takes some doing; they feel like jelly from the drunken pleasure throbbing through him from the act of moving around. His cock is stiff and twitching in his pants.
A vampire woman in a gown that clings to her every curve glides up and moves behind him. He moans when she yanks his head back by the hair.
Her teeth sink into his neck. He can feel the curve of her breasts pressing against his back. With a shameless moan, he shudders and comes.
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