Pensive

Feeding the Tree, part c

Feeding the Tree, part 2 of 2

Cadmus stilled himself as Flint returned to kissing him, feeling his slight form as it moved fully against him.  The sensation was wondrous, and Cadmus instinctively molded himself to Flint, moving, entwining the Phantom in a firm embrace so that the connection could not be broken.  Flint’s hands moved from behind his head and trailed down Cadmus’ spine, helping to lock the two enemies-turned-lovers together.  They fell to their knees upon the cold stone floor simultaneously, luxuriating in the heady beginnings of Ambrosciata.

Flint worked his way from Cadmus’ lush mouth to his porcelain throat, nestling his face there, breathing in his scent and holding it in his lungs until he was compelled to breathe again.  Cadmus followed suit, licking Flint’s throat, nibbling at the warm flesh.

In one swift move, Cadmus grasped Flint’s penis and fell back, pulling the young Vampire on top of him.  He tightened his grip on Flint’s erect member to the point of causing him pain, but enough to give pleasure as well.  He thought of the Blood of climax spilling into Flint’s penis, ready to be drunk with abandon.  Drinking from another Vampire’s most intimate region, the inner thigh, the clitoris, or the head of an impassioned penis was Cadmus’ favourite way to kill his prey.  They perished in a frenzy of Bloodletting, literally spilling their essence into Cadmus, helpless in their desire.

Flint straddled Cadmus rubbing himself against the Plenipotentiary’s growing penis.  He placed his hands on Cadmus’ delicate chest, letting his fingers trail through the ebony hair.  Even though he knew Cadmus was still Compelling, Flint also knew that he would have Willingly engaged with him.

“You are an angel,” he whispered, bending down and once again kissed Cadmus’ throat, letting his tongue linger on the aorta, sensing the heightened Blood flow and delighting in the thought of the exchange to come.

“I am the angel of death,” Cadmus buzzed in seduction, pulling Flint closer to him, reaching down to position himself against Flint’s orifice, readying himself for the pleasure of it all. 

Flint shivered against him, locking Cadmus’ hips between his knees.  Slowly, he eased down Cadmus’ shaft until the length of the Vampire prince regent was buried within him.  Cadmus gasped, arching his back as he leaned up, clinging to Flint’s thin form.  They cradled one another, not daring to move in that instance of profundity.  Flint’s member strained against their bellies, trapped between the two Vampires.  They brushed their fangs against one another’s throats again, each teasing the other with the inevitability of the Blood to surge forth.

But Cadmus had never allowed anyone to drink from him in the Ambrosial state.  He promised, he cajoled, but he always struck like a serpent just before the moment, taking his partner’s Blood, and leaving the spent corpse behind with the message, Sanguinam Mittat, “Let the Blood be sent forth.”  Despite his overwhelming desire, Cadmus was well aware of what he was to do.  He would drink of Flint until the ragamuffin Darkling lay dead before his altar, and then he would take what he wanted to feed his Tree.

Flint began to move up Cadmus’ erection, his tightness driving the Plenipotentiary to distraction.  His limp, dirty blonde hair moved in silken beauty, as he threw his head back.  Baring his teeth, Flint took a violent intake of breath.  Cadmus watched his adams apple vibrate, as Flint released a low growl so quietly, even Cadmus could barely hear it.  Putting the full weight of body on his knees, Flint continued to move slowly upward until only the tip of Cadmus’ penis remained inside him.  He could feel the bleeding wounds caused by the stone floor of Cadmus’ prayer room.  Placing his hands on Cadmus’ bony shoulder, he began sinking downward again, until he was locked firmly on Cadmus’ lap.  Once more, he remained stock still, save for taking Cadmus open lips between his own in a  kind of desperate kiss.

Cadmus was growing frustrated at the lack of movement which would bring him the blissful friction he wanted.  No no, Cadmus needed it.  Vexed, he pushed hard on Flint’s chest, shoving him backward until he lay on his back, still linked to Cadmus in a submissive frenzy.  He moved in and out of Flint with brutal abandon.  Flint was shocked and he cried out as Cadmus thrusted hard against him, burying himself deeply before he slipped out of him, pulling away from Flint.  He bent down and flattened his tongue against the underside of Flint’s penis.  With an achingly slow deliberation, Cadmus licked him and bit the tip just a little before moving up to lick Flint’s belly.  He stabbed his forked tongue into Flint’s navel, then began again to travel up Flint’s fragile, alabaster frame until he reached the young Vampire’s chest.  Cadmus trailed his tongue to Flint’s left nipple, viciously sucking it into his mouth.  Again, Flint cried out from the joy of it.  Cadmus then returned to Flint’s chest easing slowly upward.  He lingered on Flint’s throat, fighting the urge to tear into him and drink him to death.  No, Flint had to climax to make the Blood willingly pump into Cadmus’ mouth, staining his lips with Blood.  That was the most delicious moment.  Cadmus calmed himself, finding that sublime stillness to where he had always escaped when his former masters visited cruelties upon his Elven form.  His heart slowed, his eyelids closed lazily in a Zen-like state.  And placing his warm lips against Flint’s, he guided them both into an exquisite hypnosis, wherein they both floated, waiting for the next level of body bliss.

Reaching down between them, Cadmus grabbed hold of Flint, and began to slowly pull him, urging him a point of quiet abandon.  He could tell the effect it was having on Flint, who moaned against Cadmus’ mouth, tasting a hint of ginger and the heady scent of Blood.  Cadmus began to pull on him faster, locking his lips onto Flint’s in a kiss of possession. 

“Noooo,” Flint said as he pushed Cadmus away from his.

“Yes, pet…”  Cadmus purred, not using the cognomen of ‘pet’ in many years.

“I do not want to…yet,” Flint replied.

Cadmus stared into Flint’s eyes.  They were flashing into phosphorescence, swift and twinkling.  He knew what Flint meant and, despite himself, Cadmus was loath to finish their coupling.  But he wanted this young one so desperately, could feel the Blood coursing through Flint like tributaries giving worship to the ancient river from which they flowed.  Cadmus moved both hands to Flint’s throat, his thumbs pressing dangerously against the Phantoms Adam’s Apple.  He whispered into Flint’s ear.

“I can count on one hand the individuals I have allowed to breach my most sacred of places.  And those were so close to death, they had no inkling where they were, or what an honour I had bestowed upon them.  I do not know why, but you are a rare one indeed to find yourself whole before my altar.”

Still grasping Flint’s throat, Cadmus kissed him again, teasing Flint’s tongue with his own.  He heard the low growl of a pre-Ambrosial Vampire, and he knew the thing they wanted most pulsed just under their flesh.  Positioning himself between Flint’s legs, he pushed into him, growled himself with the intensity of their union.  Deaf to the throat hum that turned to moans, then cries, Cadmus pressed against Flint over and over, his thrusts more insistent than the previous.  Cadmus still had his hands around Flint’s neck, now cutting his breath to quiet his utterance.  Flint arched his neck again, closed his Absinthe eyes.

Just as Cadmus climaxed deep within him, Flint lunged forward, breaking free of Cadmus’ clutch upon his neck.  He did not bother to stop and see the surprise in the Plenipoteniary before he latched his mouth upon Cadmus’ throat.  Instinctively Cadmus followed lead and plunged his teeth into Flint.  The taste of Cadmus’ blood coursing into his mouth, combined with Cadmus’ own intrusion of his flesh, was enough to hurtle Flint into his own ecstasy.  He felt the warm wetness between them, and he wrapped his legs around Cadmus’ waist, his arms around his scapulae.

Never before had anyone drunk from Cadmus.  The shock that ran through him prevented his pulling away from Flint, so immersed he was in the bliss of it all.  He drank violently at Flint’s throat, feeling the pressure of climax offer up the Blood.  By the same token, Flint pulled his own enchanted Blood, out and down his bruised throat.  Nearing the end of the Ambrosciata, Flint pulled a hand from around Cadmus, and covered the Plenitpoteniary’s infinite eyes, and kissing Cadmus lightly one his lips, letting him taste his own Blood. Cadmus felt himself being lost, but he mustered the strength to jerk his head from Flint.  In the same quick motion, Cadmus grasped the blade off his altar and held it to his chin.  He sat up from the Phantom, pulling himself out of, and away from the young Vampire.

“You dare drink from me,” Cadmus growled. The passion waned, leaving only Cadmus once more.  He plunged the athame into Flint to its very hilt.  “No one has ever assumed such power.  Now stay where you are, titch.  I’ve a special agony for you before you die.”

Cadmus stood and moved behind his altar.  He picked up another blade hidden there, then he lifted up the Harming Tree, returning to Flint.  Flint writhed in agony, holding the blade’s handle, but unable to remove it from the soft flesh underneath his chin.  With the placement of the blade, he was also unable to scream. 

Cadmus straddled Flint’s slender frame and yanked out the knife.  Flint hemorrhaged from the wound, and he screamed into the darkness.

“When I add a piece of a Vampire to my Sacrament, that Vampire is most usually dead.  I reserve this anguish for the Vampires who have insulted my person.  Despite your strange beauty, Flint my love, you have truly earned such a wrath as feeding the Tree whilst conscious, aware of my ministrations.”

“No,” Flint rasped, dividing his flashing eyes between Cadmus and the Harming Tree, his own passion abandoning him.  “Get…away from me.”

“Even to the very end, you fight the inevitable.  I have taken my pleasure from you, at the expense of almost losing myself.  It is this, this confusion, and the many moments you have confused me, that compels me to give over your flesh to my Tree.”

Cadmus looked over Flint’s face, his limp blonde hair wet from the intimacies they had shared.  He reached down to his lower belly and dabbed his fingers in the issue.  Touching his wet fingers to Flint’s lips, Cadmus smiled sweetly, and it was a true smile.  It crinkled the corners of his eyes, and brightened his face beyond the impossibly angelic.

“What should I take from you, young Flint?  What piece of you should be sacrificed to my Harming Tree, before I end your little life?  What part of my lovely titch should grace my Sacrament?”

Lifting his chin, Cadmus raised his eyes to a heaven that would never tolerate him.  Lost in thought, he rocked back and forth like a shaman in prayer.  For what seemed like an eternity, Cadmus did this, and Flint felt himself growing once more against this abomination, despite his own agony and the Blood weakness that had taken him over.

“Oh, I know,” Cadmus suddenly said.  “I do need something to add more branches to the Tree.  Let us take a ligament from you, my love.  Then shall I always remember you, and your disrespect.”

Placing a geasa upon Flint before he could move a muscle, Cadmus scooted down his body until he sat astraddle Flint’s shins.  Without hesitation he sliced Flint’s inner left thigh open, cutting through the muscle to expose the bone and the ligament attaching it to Flint’s hip.  Flint screamed and bucked against the geasa cast upon him.  He could feel its hold loosen only slightly, but he was in too much pain to properly focus on breaking Cadmus’ psychic imprisonment of his flesh.

Ligamentum pubofemorale,” Cadmus said, almost in reverence for the Latin he uttered.  “It connects the hip to the femur.  Very strong, very pliable in its own way.  Like catgut, it is.  It can bind most anything, considering it helps to bind your leg to your hip.  I could take it all, but I do not want to pull you apart in such an undignified manner.  I want you to die…mostly whole, your strange beauty preserved to grace my catacombs.”

Catacombs?  Flint thought, his reason trying to burst through the animal response to the pain he felt.  Catacombs!  What are in catacombs!?

A glimmer of hope spread like a distant fire in Flint’s breast, just as the agony increased a thousand-fold. 

Cadmus had his spidery fingers around the ligament he had exposed, his knife in his other hand.  “Just a thread, my titch.  A thread to bind my branches and make the Tree ever stronger.  A thread of torment to remind me of the confusion you have inspired within me.”

The Plenipotentiary began sawing into the tough flesh with a spurious concern.  Flint gritted his teeth, his fangs flashing in the candlelight.  The pain became sentient in its intensity, and all he could do was weep.  It was a poor reaction to Cadmus’ attentions.  It reminded him of the reviled Faust the Confessor, and it vexed him beyond reasoning.  Cadmus gripped the entire ligament with cruel fingers, his hand becoming slick with Flint’s Blood.

“Oh, now why are we crying, love?  When you were so immersed in the bliss of Ambrosciata just a few moments ago?  Did you think you could escape this because of your effect on my baser nature?  Did you honestly believe your careful diligence to pleasure me may help you soften my intentions?  Did you hope that there was ever any escape for you?  You were used, Flint.  And now shall you be dispensed with, just as all the others before you.”

Part of the ligament popped free, and Flint thought he could hear the misery of its release.  But he refused to scream, refused to vocalize any more of his pain.  It only heartened Cadmus, he knew.  Flint looked down at where Cadmus sat, seeing the Vampire slowly peel away at the ligament.  With great care, Cadmus took that piece of Flint he had cut away, and in divine delicacy, he spun it around one of the branches of the Harming Tree.  Despite his pain, despite anything at all, Flint still could not help but be lost in Cadmus’ eternal beauty.  Strangely, this is what helped Flint focus. 

With every mote of strength he could muster, Flint focused on the magickal hold Cadmus had on him.  And he raged against it, letting the fury and desperation of this moment of torment pour out of him.  To his surprise, and to the shock he saw in Cadmus’ face, Flint broke the geasa, and he sat up, pulled himself backward on his hands.  Fear gripped him, fear and desire.  And Flint knew these two emotions, particularly together, was what drove Cadmus into a kind of euphoria.

It did not matter right now…  Flint had to escape, but he knew there was no way to get to the door without Cadmus capturing and killing him.  In the peripheries of his vision, Flint saw movement to his left.  His eyes flickered infinitesimally to catch what exactly it was.  It was a mouse.