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The sky was still tainted red by the setting sun when Armand stepped outside.
The tiling around the swimming pool was hot under his feet, greedily holding onto the warmth of the day, and the last timid rays of sunshine prickled harshly at his skin. It felt like thousands of tiny insects were biting him with their vicious little pincers everywhere he was exposed. He stretched, and sighed contently at the feeling.
The long plum robe he was wearing whispered softly as it pooled at his feet, and he dipped his toes into the clear blue waters of the pool. He could cross the beach right at the bottom of their garden to go for a swim in the sea instead, but he was feeling lazy this nice warm evening, and he didn’t want to have to clean salt out of his curls later.
Plus, there was someone watching him from behind the beautiful blue and pale pink hydrangea bush he had planted with Lestat, and who was Armand to deny anyone a show?
Naked, he dived. The cold water was a shock against his heated skin, and he shivered under the surface.
The man hiding in the pastel bramble had killed two people the evening before. His sweat and hair was still carrying the heavy scent of blood and fear, and the backpack at his side was full of polaroids of the crime scene, and stolen lingerie.
His name was Walter Brooks. He had been all over Miami, breaking into expensive villas with the stealth of a shadow to steal valuable art pieces, and to empty volts full of cash. The murder wasn’t his first, but had been an accident this time, albeit one he didn’t regret. He had slit the man’s throat because he hadn’t been careful enough to make sure he was alone before committing his crime, and he had strangled the woman because she had annoyed him. She had been hysterical when she had stumbled upon her husband’s dead body, and even more so when Walter had raped her face down into the pool of his still warm blood.
The rush of power he had felt afterward as she had lain, so pretty still, and ruined under him, was a high he enjoyed more than anything else in the world.
He did this. Him.
But now, Armand saw in his head how terrified he was of getting caught by the police. He didn’t want to go to prison and have what he did to this woman, and to countless others, happen to him in the communal showers. He had been jumping all day at every harsh sound, every distant siren.
But he needn’t fret. The two bodies were still cooling where they were, and their little chihuahua was already nibbling at the man’s cheek in hunger. The help had been dismissed for four days, so they wouldn’t be found for a long while yet.
And now, Walter was here because of hearsays of an art dealer living in this house, and how Armand loved this house.
They had chosen it together, the four of them, as a sanctuary, a refuge. It was big, but not as big as some of the others on the bay, sleek and modern, with lots of UV proof windows that let in plenty of light during the day. The interior was a blend of everything they loved, and because of that devoid of any harmony or consistency. Empire furniture from Lestat was mixed with more modern and minimalist designs. Art was everywhere. Baroque and classic paintings, of course from Armand, dada, cubism pieces, and glassy contemporary sculptures from Louis, while pianos, guitars, clavecins, erhus and any and all sort of instruments lived in every corner, waiting for Lestat to play with them. Daniel’s touch was to humanise everything with the clutter he left all around. Discarded jackets, books by the dozens, writing pads, pens, and glasses. It was chaotic, it was messy, but it was beautiful. And it was their home. Armand didn’t want the man to put his dirty hands on anything they owned.
But well, this dear Walter wasn’t really thinking about robbing the place anymore, was he?
No, he had set his eyes on something, on someone else.
What a shame it was, but Armand knew the effect he could have on some people. And what an effect he had on poor Walter, indeed.
When Walter had hid there, it was more because he hadn’t really known what to do next, except maybe to keep doing what he did best, and rob some rich assholes blind.
He just hadn’t expected to find himself spying on the most beautiful man he had ever seen in his life, instead.
And what a vision he was. Tall and slender, with dark dewy skin, and the fragile grace of a white-tailed deer as he moved.
His face was perfectly androgynous, and looked like it had been sculpted lovingly by tender-handed gods. The gentle slop of his nose, the high cheekbones, and the little, perfectly drawn mouth.
His gigantic brown eyes looked almost amber from where Walter stood. Magic in a way. Out of this world.
Walter could feel heat pool in his loins. He had always known, distantly, that he wasn’t impervious to the beauty of some men, without being a fag off course. But never like this. God, never like this.
He wanted this mysterious person more than he had ever wanted anyone before.
He couldn’t look away from the figure swimming and paddling idly in the turquoise water. So lean and elegant, and so tantalisingly nude.
The side door of the villa opened, and two other men came out to join the Angel. Because he was an angel, was he not?
Walter didn’t realise that the sun had set, mesmerised as he was, caught like fly under the spell of this dangerous, delicious creature.
The two newcomers were of the same fantastical beauty. One tall and blond, with the figure and locks of a dashing Apollo, while the other was shorter and slimmer, with dark skin too and a sharp elvish beauty that Walter was sure belonged solely on fashion runways. What kind of weird model retreat had he miraculously stumbled upon?
The Angel swam toward them, and the blond one took his loose maroon pants off, freeing his long sex nestled under pubes just as golden as his head, before bending to kiss the Angel’s lips. He let himself be playfully tugged into the water with a laugh, and vengefully wrestled with the Angel until he held him prisoner in his arms. The black Venus came to sit near them, with his feet down in the water, naked now too. They were smiling, the three of them, and talking together amicably, but Walter was too far away to hear anything of what they were saying.
Then, for a second he felt three sets of jewels eyes fall on him like a curse -orange, blue, and green- Shining and all-seeing, piercing the recesses of his mind, and killing him surely.
But his fear was unfounded, of course, as the three men were just joking with each other, and calm descended back upon his mind.
He was suddenly torn out of his stupor, and could do nothing but watch with his mouth dumbly gaping when the blond Apollo tossed the Angel over the side of the pool, bent over with his ass out of the water, and took the long black plug secretly buried in his ass. A clasp of lust made him almost come in his pants like a kid when the series of beads was taken out of the winking, tender asshole.
He could hear the Angel moan from where he was hiding, and he was forced to grab viciously at the base of his dick to stop his completion when the tall blond sank into him in one fluid movement. The clap of flesh on flesh was loud in the warm night, and the Angel sang like a bird as he rocked over the tiles, waves cresting and splashing all around him with the force of their coupling. The dark-skinned Venus sitting next to him gently petted his hair and back throughout, until the blond Apollo came with a shout, quickly followed by the Angel’s tremulous cry. They cuddled and giggled for a while in each other's arms after, looking loose and happy, before moving to one of the chaise lounges. The pretty model laid down with the Angel sitting atop his slender dick, while the blond one played with his nipples and kissed his neck with fervor and no small amount of devotion. Fuck, but the three of them looked hot together.
Later, the blond and black one were letting the Angel rest, fucking now right next to him as he watched and caressed his soft little dick idly with the content smile of a pleased cat, when a fourth man joined them. He was old, and far less beautiful than the other three because of it. He came to kiss the Angel first, deeply and tenderly, and fed him two thick fingers to suck on as they watched the other two together. He meanly slapped the Angel’s hand away from his sex, and replaced it with his own. And what tender noises he the Angel made again, as he rolled and arched in the old man’s touch. The picture of perfect submission.
A plan was slowly taking shape in Walter’s mind. Yes, he must have him. And he will.
The next night, Walter was back to hide in the shrubbery of the beautiful villa again. He was used to it, the watching and the waiting. It was one thing he loved doing the most actually, learning the patterns and habits of his future victims. It made him feel powerful, giving them all this obsessive, and perverse attention as they were perfectly unaware of it. He waited until the sun had set, and watched with elation and burning hope as the three men prepared to leave the Angel behind. They were all dressed to the nine, shining with satin, sparkles, and shimmering velvet. Even the old one had made an effort, with his studded leather jacket, and high waisted zebra-patterned pants, which he somehow managed to pull off. The Angel embraced them all at the door. One kiss each, but a deeper one for the grandpa. And out the door, in a shining 2020 Bentley Continental GT away they went.
Walter watched through the glass wall as the Angel came out of what seemed to be the kitchen with a glass of Bloody Mary, and sat down to watch TV on the giant plasma screen.
He coughed twice in his hand, poor thing. He must have catch a cold the day before, while being fucked half-in half-out of the water, and was most likely left off of the evening of booze and dance because of it. He ought to keep better care of his health. Or well, he won’t have to bother about such trivial things soon, Walter will see to that. He will take care of him fully, as any celestial creature like him deserve to be.
The Angel soon seemed to grow bored, and turned off the TV with a scoff, before rising delicately from the couch. He was only wearing a t-shirt much too big for him, a faded grey thing with holes at the bottom and the Vampire Lestat logo stamped across the chest. When he bent down to grab the wool throw on the backrest, Walter could plainly see the white lacy panties he was wearing underneath. He bundled himself up in the blanket, and strided out of the house toward the sea below.
Walter was mesmerized as he watched from afar as the Angel stood before the deep blue horizon, his dark hair whipping in the warm wind. He was unable to believe his luck. He had expected to wait days, if not weeks for the chance to get him all alone like this. He had taken his bag tonight, just in case the opportunity to act on his plan arose, and he was very glad he did.
He got out of his hiding place with a blazing sense of purpose and excitement. He hastily looped back, far enough away to not be suspicious, and leisurely strolled toward his prey with a calculated air of innocence. He kept his posture relaxed, his hands in his pockets, as if he had just spent his evening on a nice promenade along the waves.
He walked up to the Angel, and god but he was even more beautiful up close.
His eyes were a strange color in the darkness, a peculiar burnt orange instead of brown. He almost didn’t look real.
Not to be admired by human eyes.
_”Hello”, Walter said, and the alluring alien of a man jumped in fright.
He put a slender hand against his stuttering heart. His nails were long and done like a woman’s, good god.
_”My…” He breathed with a self-depreciating chuckle. “You scared me!”
He frowned, pouty, and strangely adorable, and examined Walter up and down critically. He must have found something lacking, because he asked: “Who are you? This is a private beach, you know.”
Ok, Princess, Walter scoffed inwardly.
He made a mental inventory of what was in the bag. The ropes, the tape, the blindfold, the handcuffs. The hunting knife hidden in his sleeve, the blade warmed by his skin.
Instead of slapping the arrogant little bitch, he laughed, and scratched the back of his head bashfully.
_”Yeah, I’m sorry man. I got lost, and my phone doesn’t have any battery left, do you mind if I come up and use your landline? Or maybe borrow a charger? I just want to call a cab and go home.”
_”I don’t know… I’m not supposed to let anyone in when I’m alo…” He cut himself, and looked around, only now realising that it was just them on the deserted beach.
The Angel bit his little lips, showing his bunny teeth. He wrapped the blanket more snugly around his shoulders. “I’m not supposed to let strangers in. There’s been a lot of robberies nearby, recently.”
_”Come on, please? It will only take two minutes, and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
The Angel took a step back at Walter’s insistence. He looked exquisite, all uncomfortable and tense like this. His hands were clenched tight around the throw, as if it could protect him. As if anything could protect him right now.
_”No really, I’m sorry.” He shook his head, making his dark curls bounce prettily. “I don’t feel comfortable with this. Please leave.”
Walter was growing frustrated. He wanted to sink his teeth in him. His hands were tingling with the need to strike, to put him in his place.
_”That’s what I want to do! So let me in and I’ll leave right after. You don’t have to worry that I’ll hurt you just because your boyfriends and your little sugar daddy ain’t here to keep you safe, I promise.”
Ha, yes. The Angel looked terrified, now. It suited him so well.
_”How…? How do you know? Please, leave. Leave me alone!”
Walter smiled. Well, at least all this was going somewhere.
He took the knife out of his sleeve, and the Angel stumbled back in fright.
It didn’t seem like he was even thinking about fighting back. That’s what Walter loved most about sissy types like him. All women deep down.
_”Come on, doll. Be nice and let me in.” He stepped toward the man, his knife pointing like the claw of a beast at his breast. But before he could attack, the Angel turned back on his heels with a scared gasp and started to run.
Good, Walter enjoyed a good hunt. He loved it when they tried to flee like this.
Back in Detroit when he was younger, he had been champion of track and field of his county three years in a row. It gave him the endurance necessary for a perfect pursuit, and how he loved watching his victims slowly get too exhausted to escape him.
The Angel was svelte, most likely a dancer, and fit too. But it wouldn’t be enough.
His bare feet sank in the sand with each step, and he stumbled clumsily once or twice in his panicked flight toward the villa standing watch above them. He fell, but quickly rose again with a terrified whine, his blanket left behind in the sand. Walter was quickly gaining on him.
The Angel shouldered past the gate, but before he had time to close it in Walter’s face, he pushed past. The Angel looked at him, his amber eyes wide, his shoulders rising and falling quickly with exhaustion and fright, and Walter knew that he chose well. He was going to have a lot of fun with this one. The Angel shook his head again, and dashed toward the door of the house.
With a terrified yell, he tried to close this door behind him too. Walter stopped him with his palm flat on the wood, and pushed it back so violently that the Angel stumbled again, and fell on his ass in the foyer.
It gave Walter a nice view of the little cock hidden by soft white lace nestled there between two slender thighs.
Behind them, the heavy door closed with a resounding clank, sealing the Angel’s fate.
He scrambled backward, but before he had time to rise, Walter caught one of his delicate ankles and dragged him back.
_”No! Please, don’t hurt me! Take anything you want, but please leave me alone!”
His voice had gone high with fear, and he smacked at him when Walter straddled his struggling body. He looked almost hysterical, each slap badly aimed and ineffective. He wasn’t even using the long acrylics he had on to scratch at him, the stupid thing. Walter quickly grew bored, and grabbed his wrists in his free hand.
_”Why would I do that, when you are obviously the most precious thing in here?” He purred.
Under him, the Angel started to sob, and desperately tried to buck and fight him off.
_”Please! Please! Help, somebody help me!”
Walter tutted. He didn’t like it when they screamed. He found it grating.
He placed the knife flat against his prey’s cheek to make him shut the hell up, and that he did. With a terrorised gasp, he stopped fighting altogether, and bared his neck to escape the dangerous kiss of the blade on his skin.
_”Please.” He breathed, trembling like a leaf in the wind under him. And how prettily did he beg.
_”Are you going to be nice to me now?” Walter asked, as he made the knife dance all over his victim’s pretty face. The edge was brushing the skin softly enough to not really hurt, but strongly enough for the potential danger of it to be crystal clear.
He traced the slope of the cheekbone, drew the curve of the cupid’s bow, and grazed the lips beneath, then the tendon of the neck. There, he pressed deeper, holding the blade just over the trembling carotid.
The Angel was weeping, terrified, but his face was dry. No tears or snot, which was a damn shame, because Watler enjoyed the simple humiliation of watching them slobber all over themselves in fear and desperation.
He nodded shyly under the knife, carefully enough not to cut himself.
_”That’s good. If you’re nice to me, I won’t have any reason to hurt you.”
The Angel nodded again. Walter tucked his knife back in his belt, and after a condescending pat on his cheek, he took hold of the collar of the old t-shirt, and tore it in two, unveiling the Angel’s chest. God, what tits. He bent down to kiss and bite down onto one of the dark, puffy nipples, making the Angel keen in terror.
Walter shouldered his backpack off, but before he could reach for the bundle of ropes inside, the Angel slammed his knee in the center of his back, and made him fall forward. He pushed him off, and scrambled to rise, letting the last tatters of his shirt fall behind, and took off wildly toward the deep recesses of the house.
Walter scoffed. Idiot. The door was right there.
He took off after him, and it was so easy to catch him again. The Angel pleaded and screamed, bucking in his hold as Walter grabbed him with both arms locked like a vice around his stomach. He lifted him up and threw him down onto the giant corduroy white couch at the center of the living room.
The Angel tried to rise and run again, but Walter violently smacked him across the face, making him fall back into the cushions with a gasp.
_”Stay the fuck down, whore!” He barked.
The Angel didn’t answer, stunned as he was by the strike, his face hidden beneath the curtain of his dark curls.
Walter used this opportunity to fetch the ropes and cuffs in his bag.
His victim whined when he was forcefully flipped on his stomach. It looked like he was slowly coming back to himself when he scratched at the cloth under him in a new frantic attempt to escape.
Walter caught his wrists again, and clasped the handcuffs on them tightly enough to hurt. The Angel whimpered and bucked under him, but Walter had him pinned, and there was nowhere for him to go anymore. He was simply tiring himself up with all of this inane struggling.
_”Please. Please…”
And sure enough, the Angel soon fell limp, his face squished in one of the velvet cushions, his face obscured by the wild dark mane of his hair. He kicked his legs weakly, and cried, high and frantic like all the women Walter ever had under him.
He snickered at the pathetic spectacle. He used one of the ropes to tie his elbows back, and looped the excess around the wrists again, pushing the metal of the cuffs deeper into the tender flesh, and keeping his prize safe, secure, and truly unable to escape.
He was still begging. Soft, broken pleas that blazed a burning trail down into Walter’s pants. Walter fetched the tape, and cut off a strip with his teeth, before pushing it over the Angel’s small doll lips. He secured that as well with a few more when the struggling man under him immediately tried to peel it off by rubbing his face against the couch.
The little moans he was making through his gag were driving Walter insane. He had wanted for them to be tucked away safely in the secret room he had started to prepare for his new pet in his basement before defiling him, but he simply couldn’t wait anymore.
He tore the white panties off, and bent down to bite at the unveiled perky little ass. The Angel squealed beneath him when he spanked him once hard enough to rock his whole body up, and found new strength to tug at his restraints and kick his legs.
But, he couldn’t fight him off when Walter sank into him. His ass was lubed, which didn’t surprise him. It truly seemed like he was the free use bottom bitch of this house.
Walter pushed into him deep enough, and strongly enough to make the couch scrape loudly against the wooden floor. He fisted a handful of dark hair, and pressed the face of his victim down in the cushion, smothering him. He slammed his hips again and again, drunk on the slapping noises of their flesh, and on the helpless little cries of the fag beneath him.
Yes, him and the pretty black one, they seemed to be the two sleeves of this place. Maybe he’ll come back to get him too, give the Angel a companion in the basement. And it was only right, wasn't it? For men of their colors to be taken, to be beneath.
The Angel stopped moving, suddenly heavy and immobile like a corpse below him.
Did he faint?
Walter moved the hair away from his face, and unveiled one brilliant orange eye fixed unflinchingly on him.
Then, the Angel disappeared.
Walter shouted. He was still kneeling on the couch, but there was no one underneath him anymore. He looked around wildly.
The Angel was sitting a few feet away with his legs crossed on a white chair matching the couch. He was free of his binds, the ropes pooled at his feet, the handcuffs twisted and crumpled like paper atop.
The Angel let out a long-suffering, put upon sigh.
_”What a shame. You were doing so well.” He lamented, crossing his long hands primly on his naked knees.
_”W… What the fuck?!” Walter screamed.
He scrambled to rise, but before he had time to run, the Angel disappeared again in a blur.
A flash of blinding pain erupted suddenly between his legs, and when he looked down, the dick he didn’t have time to put away was gone. Torn at the root.
He howled, a harrowing sound he never heard himself make before, and crumbled to the floor in a heap, his legs unable to hold up his weight any longer.
What the fuck was happening?!
There was tarp under him, and where did that come from? Who was this man?!
Above him, the Angel was holding the torn up flesh of his manhood in his graceful fingers, a disgusted snarl curling his lips. Blood was running down his wrist to his elbow in ruby rivulets. He tossed it on the tarp, and it fell with a pathetic splat next to Walter's knee.
Armand was lapping at the blood on his hand when he heard the front door open.
_”This one is for Louis”, he announced when his three loves crossed the threshold of the living room.
Lestat looked immediately repulsed by the screaming man kneeling next to his precious Louis XV low table.
_”Racist?” Louis asked, handing Armand his long plum robe to cover his nakedness.
_”Indeed…” he sighed.
Without saying a thing, Daniel came to check on him fretfully.
His hands were shaking when he grabbed hold of Armand’s face, and turned it this way and that to make sure that everything was okay. Armand smiled reassuringly at him, and tenderly kissed one of his palms.
Before he has time to say anything, Lestat enquired:
_”Did you have fun with your little stalker, at least?”
_”Well, I was. Until he started to think all those nasty things about Louis.”
Louis frowned.
_”He thought horrible things about you too. Way worse, actually.”
Armand shrugged, and Daniel snarled, unveiling his big wolf fangs. He was glaring fiercely at the human whimpering on the floor, his orange eyes burning like twin flames in his eyes.
_”Yeah. I know we said that transphobes were for Lestat, homophobes for you, pedos for me, and racists for Louis, but I really want to be the one to do him in.” He breathed out through his noise and closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. “I know you’re big enough to know what you want, and that you like to play with your food a bit, but I didn’t like it. I hated hearing you like this.”
Armand cooed, his dead heart stuttering. His protective fledgling. So noble.
_”Yes, the little cherub can be quite the actor when he wants.” Lestat chuckled, his arm circling Louis’s shoulders. “But the ditsy, helpless damsel routine. Really Armand?”
Louis snickered.
_”It’s because of all those slasher movies he’s been watching lately. Didn’t you see him flee with his arms out, and fall every two steps? ‘Twas only missing the bright pink booty shorts.”
_”WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU PEOPLE?!” Came a sudden shrill scream from behind them.
They all turned slowly. Walter was still kneeling on the tarp, most likely shocked out of his mind, and woozy as all hell with all the blood he was losing. His khakis were now wet and black down to his ankles, and he was cradling the useless dead knob of his manhood in one trembling hand curled protectly against his chest, while the other pointed his hunting knife toward the three of them.
_”What the fuck are you talking about? What are you?!”
Lestat laughed again, and Louis smiled too, his sharp fangs down now as well.
_”Us? Oh, we’re vampires.”
Walter looked between them, uncomprehending. The knife in his hold was shaking so badly that he almost dropped it.
He rose with difficulty, his eyes rolling in his head with dumb fear, his legs almost buckling, and slowly stumbled toward the door.
Lestat was holding his stomach as he howled in laughter at the spectacle, and Armand clicked his tongue.
_”He’s going to bleed all over the carpet.”
Louis nodded toward the man, allowing Daniel the first strike.
Walter squealed like a butchered pig as the massive fangs of the younger vampire sank into the side of his neck. The three others quickly came to join him, Armand at the other side of his neck, and Lestat and Louis at both wrists.
He struggled, like all his victims had struggled under him.
Death did not come easy for him, they made sure of it. It was slow, and painful, and very vindictive on Daniel’s part. They showed him what real predators could do, and he felt his end come inexorably, unable to escape, and terrified out of his mind the whole time.
And soon, dear Walter was laying on the tarp-covered floor, drained and destroyed, as he had destroyed so many. Armand sighed, he had fun with him, but now there was one less piece of shit staining the world out there.
All in good fun.
The four vampires looked at each other over the dead body, all flushed and filled by the kill.
Armand licked his bloody lips.
_”Well, I didn’t get to come in the end.” He announced in the sated silence, and three pairs of eyes turned toward him, hungry, suddenly, for more than just blood.
Louis picked the rope discarded next to the chair, and Armand shivered.
They advanced toward him as he stepped back.
Well, it seemed like the hunt wasn't over after all.
He ran.