The bittersweet tang of Family. I hadn't expected to find it here. For the most part, Aurellians are Old World. We spawn in the dank sewers of Paris, the catacombs beneath Rome, the Underground tunnels of London.
I thought Drusilla and I were the first to venture to the New World since my visits here in the last century. The Family is big on tradition.
I was never one to cling to its trappings.
Darla the cow was born here, but, as far as I know, once she flitted off to be Nest's whore, she never returned, and the Master himself only came here for her.
But, there's another of us here, in the great noise and bright lights of New York City.
I follow the scent, the feeling, unerringly, head held high, nose tilted just so. My great coat swirls about my legs and my fedora sits atop my head at a rakish angle.
I am the perfect example of the modern man.
Ha, if only those passing me and giving me looks of approval, curiosity and lust only knew.
As I turn onto Fifth Avenue, the feeling grows more intense, becoming a tingle in my belly. I find myself drawn to the discreet doors of an exclusive club, and I stand at the foot of the steps, frowning up at the sign.
'The Old World Club.'
I doubt I'll be allowed entrance, but there's one of us inside and I want to know who it is. There aren't many pure-blooded Aurellians that have escaped Nest's court or his influence. Septs exist in two dozen cities around the world, but none here in this hemisphere, and none of his childer would dare start one without his permission.
Which he would never grant.
Everyone knows that Angelus was being groomed to rule the Americas.
At the thought of my sire, a pang of emotion goes through me and I scowl it away. Angelus has been gone for twenty years, banished from the bitch's bed because of his newly restored soul.
Stupid cow, a soul can be corrupted. Why she didn't have the patience to do that is beyond me.
I'd have gladly lent a hand.
Or a cock.
That brings a grin to my face and I quickly mount the stairs, eager to discover which of my family is inside. Even the sight of Darla would bring a moment of pleasure.
Just so I could spit in her face.
I've always wondered if, without my sire to support and defend her, which of us would win a battle. I couldn't kill her, of course- -don't want the Cunt of Londontown being the reason I get myself killed--but I wouldn't mind beating her to a bloody pulp and then watching every fledgling I can find fucking her till she's bowlegged.
Still grinning, I rap on the door in eager anticipation. It's opened by a demon--a passing one, but still a demon. Taken slightly aback, I stare at the little man in butler's livery, as he steps aside and gestures for me to enter.
"Please come in, sir. You are welcome."
As he takes my hat and coat, I look around at the elegant yet understated entryway, then follow his directions to the salon.
More grace and elegance abound--the furniture from the Federal period, Waterford chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, a Steinway grand piano being played in the corner by a Manaka demoness.
There are a couple dozen beings in the room, some standing, some sitting, some drinking, some playing cards or listening to the demoness play the latest Cole Porter tune.
None are human.
There are several vampires, all high caliber, not a minion in the bunch, and the one I'm seeking is sitting at the bar. As I approach, he slowly stiffens and turns.
It's been nearly a hundred years, but he still looks the same, even down to the hair drawn back into a queue. Only his clothes have changed.
The light in his eyes still sparkles with wickedness.
He grins. I reflect it, and then we're embracing--manly, of course, with much slapping of shoulders and laughter.
"William, brother." The emotion in Penn's voice is real and I feel the old caring and desires flare in me.
"Penn, it's been too long."
"I lost track of you all around twenty-five years ago. We were supposed to meet in Romania, but when I arrived, no one knew where you had gone. What happened?" As Penn asks the question I dread answering, he leads me to a secluded table. After ordering a drink, I fill him in on all that has happened. It takes several drinks.
"A soul?" Penn takes a hearty belt of twelve year old Scotch. "How...how can he survive?"
"I don't know," I admit, savoring my own drink as I lean back in the comfortable chair. "He is alive, somewhere. We'd know if he died...or so I've heard."
"And Darla disowned him?" Penn shakes his head in disgust. "Stupid cow."
"Well...yes." I grin.
"And we have a sister? I'm a bit surprised Angelus would give Darla any competition."
"He couldn't resist her. Drusilla is charmed. I wish she was here so you could meet her, but she insisted on a trip to upstate New York to some spa." I take another sip of the smoky, rich alcohol and change the subject, "So, how long have you been in America?"
"Only a few years. I'd heard that the Master had backed off his plans for Angelus and that his eye was no longer on this continent. Now I know why."
"I was here in the middle of the last century, but I took care not to cross the old bat by establishing myself anywhere. I guess it is safe now."
"Maybe he'll look to you."
I snort indelicately. My relationship with the head of our Family is not on the best of terms. I'm too wild, too reckless. It feels good to have an ocean between us.
"Last I heard, he was trying to find the location of a Hellmouth. He's gone totally off his nut since Angelus left, wants to bring back the Old Gods or some such insanity."
Penn shudders and I have to nod in agreement.
"So, what is this place?" I ask the question that's been on my mind since I entered the building.
"A haven for our kind and other demons of discriminating tastes."
"Then why'd they let me in?" I joke.
Penn's eyes slowly run over me and I feel heat rush through my veins. "You have the appearance of wealth, and that's always welcome here."
"I have more than the appearance, but this usually isn't my style. More Angelus'."
"I remember." He smiles over his glass. "You always liked a smoky pub, a good brawl, and a voluptuous wench."
"Not necessarily in that order," I agree with a laugh.
Penn sets down his glass and my laughter dies at the molten tint to his eyes. "I can't offer you any of that, but perhaps we can continue our reunion in a more traditional way."
I'm on my feet before my mind can catch up, and Penn gives me a lusty look and leads me out the door.
Oh fuck....I've forgotten. All I taught this boy, this man, this demon. As his tongue twirls around the aching slit in my cock, I realize he hasn't lost his touch.
We're in a private room on the upper level of the building. It's elegantly appointed.
I could care less. It has a bed. And, really, even that's not necessary.
As soon as we entered, Penn pushed me against the door, dropped to his knees and had my cock in his mouth before I could do more than grip his shoulders and bite back a howl.
Knowing it will be the first of several, I do nothing to prolong my release and buck wildly against his face as I spill myself down his gulping throat. Sighing happily, I slump against the door and watch him sinuously rise to his feet and lick my cum from his lips.
"Nothing tastes as good as Family." He kisses me hard, then steps back and begins to undress me, quickly and efficiently. Once I'm naked, he removes his own clothes as he walks to the bed. Still trembling from the aftermath of orgasm, I follow him slowly and collapse on my side on the soft down mattress. Penn curls next to me and leans over for another kiss.
There's nothing inherently different in kissing a man, except perhaps mouth size, but there's something especially erotic in kissing another man.
At least for me.
It's like kissing my reflection. This is something I learned from Angelus, who created us to be his own reflections, not of his body, but his personality, his lusts.
No one ever said vampires weren't narcissistic.
Opening my mouth, I let Penn's tongue enter mine and play for several long minutes, as our hands reacquaint themselves with each other's smooth, silky bodies. We're both only lightly furred, our bodies defined by our youth, our forms slender. We are beautiful.
But, not feminine.
Penn's fingers are broad and strong and run down my spine driving shivers through me. The beginnings of stubble on my chin rubs against his, creating a delightful friction.
Our cocks grind slowly together as our hands smooth over flat, masculine buttocks.
No, we're definitely male.
Reaching between us, I slide my hand over both our cocks, rubbing them together. They're erect and slick with our emissions, but also soft and warm. Penn gasps softly into my mouth and I lift my leg, wrapping it around his waist as I undulate against him.
With a cry of pleasure, he comes, and his cool seed spreads across our stomachs and thighs as I hold him and rock with him. His mouth finds my throat and I arch into the erotic touch of his tongue pressing against my jugular.
I'll let him taste eventually, but there are protocols about these things, and although I'm usually the first to break the rules, I'm in the mood to be the dominant for the first time in a very long time.
"Get on your hands and knees, pup," I growl playfully and nearly quiver as Penn scrambles to the position, his legs spread slight, his cock rising again towards his wet stomach. Rolling over on the bed I open the drawer in the bedside table and am not surprised to find the necessary jars of lubrication. I pick one and apply the sweet smelling oil to my erection, then move behind the younger vampire.
Penn buries his face in a pillow, forcing his ass higher in the air, and I smile and place a soft kiss at the base of his spine. I hear him hiss in pleasure, and trail my tongue down to his puckered entrance.
I wonder how long it's been since someone's invaded this tiny portal.
Rising back up to my knees, I take his hips in my hands and press the tip of my cock to his entrance. I slowly press forward, sheathing myself in his tight, dark hilt. Penn shudders and my fingers tighten as a throb of pleasure goes through my groin.
Oh, I'd nearly forgotten how wonderful this is.
Drusilla loves to be bottom fucked and we do it often, but it is different with a male. There's no other option. It's the only hole he has.
Closing my eyes and letting myself sink into the rapture, I begin a quick rhythm, slapping my pelvis against Penn's ass on every stroke. With each drive, he grunts and pushes back, meeting me. We continue for several minutes, before I hear him groan loudly, and I open my eyes. Braced on one shoulder, he's tugging on his cock with his other hand.
As I fuck him at my own pleasure building pace, I debate on whether or not to allow him to continue. After all, he didn't ask.
But, I'm not our sire, so I'll allow him his own release.
Just as I reach that conclusion, his hand falls away and he rises up, both hands now on the bed and his head hanging down. Twisting my head, I catch a glimpse of his cock, red and engorged with borrowed blood. It looks painful.
I don't wonder why he stopped, though. He remembered.
"Sorry, sir," Penn hisses through clenched teeth, and I smile and reach around with one hand to pump his cock in time with my deep thrusts. He gasps and shakes, and pleasure suffuses me at the knowledge that we are still bound by blood and lust and I still have such power over him.
As he has over me.
As he cries my name, my control shatters and I groan and grunt and thrust wildly, coming in hard spurts that leave me shaken and slumped over him. I feel Penn spill his own seed onto my hand and I continue to caress him as we fall to the mattress on our sides, still joined.
Pressing against his back, I let my hand slide up his stomach and chest, and feel him tremble beneath my fingers. Penn arches his neck and, with a sigh, I nuzzle aside his queue of hair and sink my fangs into the nape.
Familial blood spills into my mouth and I suckle like a babe at the tit. It is always the best--spicy, rich, powerful. It's even better than a Slayer's blood. Pure Aurellian.
We are gods on this world and I can taste the history and the future in each corpuscle I drink.
Penn shudders and mewls and I lift my wrist to his throat. He latches on hungrily, and I feel a moment of sorrow at the desperation as he scrabbles for the vein and sinks in his fangs. It's been at least twenty-five years since any of the Family has heard from Penn. Has it been that long since he's had the taste of us?
To go without for so long...
Pulling my fangs free, I let him drink for a few moments longer, then stop him with a gentle touch. Penn sighs, but accepts and releases me, only to wriggle off my softening cock and turn to face me. There are tears in his eyes as he snuggles against me.
"I'd forgotten," he chokes out. "The blood..."
"I know, brother," I soothe. "I know."
Replete and basking in the glow of the familial bond renewed, we drift to sleep, although the wicked part of me is already imagining how I'll awaken my brother.
As I recall, he was always very responsive to my throat squeezing around the tip of his cock.