Julius is a vampire that feeds off Alex, his blood is sweet — addicting to drain out of his body. The vampire would stalk him for days, weeks to catch him for his blood.
(something I found on the hard drive - I'll write some more on it when the muse gets back from vacation. Needs more smut)
The Sire-Childe relationship between a maker and his, or her, progeny can be one of the most rewarding experience in the eras that immortality carries. A companion at your side to be a constant in this ever-changing world can assist in avoiding the end that so many elders choose, that of the ritual suicide. Sex, power, status, all are affected by your choice of fledgling so do consider carefully if you wish this person joined to you for the next few hundred years.
Vampire Society and Etiquette. Lord Julius Nicholson, Master Vampire. (Circulated in vampire society only. Not available via general press)
In the 500 or so years that Julius had walked the earth, he'd created a number of vampiric offspring. Expected behaviour when one attains Master status, it ensured continuity of the most powerful blood among the clans and for the most part he felt he'd chosen rightly.
Beautiful Alexandria, clever Victoria, the otherworldly looks of Robert, the grace and charm of Peter – treasured offspring who still walked the earth hundreds of years later. Even the creation of Nick he didn't regret. Nick, the handsome, tortured artist who had barely been with them for 20 years before he ended his existence, a decision that still caused Julius pain.
Losing a childe was never easy.
There didn't seem to be any danger of his newest fledgling following that path. 5 years in the undead realm and Malcolm was as fiery as ever. Malcolm Tucker, created as an accident after being drained too far by Julius in a frenzied feeding fit. Malcolm the undefeated who would not bow to any man, let alone his own Master, and caused said Master no end of trouble. Malcolm who wouldn't obey any damn rule.
Malcolm, who made Julius feel alive.
***
Julius had sent out a call to his offspring, a telepathic compulsion into their heads to come and see their Master. Vampires did not celebrate birthdays or anniversaries as a habit (although some of the younger ones were starting to throw 'death day' parties) but when one reaches a certain age or status among the undead it was acceptable to have a small celebration. Last week Julius had received the news that, as the most senior vampire in the south, he was to be elevated to rank of Head of the Council of Vampires.
No small reward that. He would effectively be ruler of every vampire in England, whether or not he'd actually sired them. The position had previously been held by Abraham, a much older vampire from the 1200's, but he'd stepped down only last month and walked into the flames. Another Elder lost.
Julius' estate staff had worked through the night to prepare the immense country house for visitors. Rooms with fresh linen, additional accommodation for any partners or fledglings of Julius' own childer, food for the humans and a selection of willing and clean human donors for the vampires. A civilised and quiet celebration and a reunion for all of Julius' clan.
As the sun fell and his offspring began to arrive; Julius looked around for the youngest of his fledglings. Malcolm had never met any of his brothers or sisters in the blood, never shown any interest in them in fact, but Julius held a hope that the presence of so many older vampires may have a stabilising effect on his wayward youngest.
Not much hope if he was honest. The last time Malcolm had come to the estate it had resulted in several broken chairs, holes in the walls, broken doors, smashed cupboards and – Julius shifted slightly in his chair – the most energetic and savage sexual experience he'd ever had.
Malcolm, when angry, was a sexual dynamo - providing you did not mind a few bruises, lacerations and the destruction of any furniture in the vicinity. It would always begin with Malcolm attempting (for the nth time) to rip Julius' jugular out of his neck for some insult or another and then segue into a bodily fight where anger swiftly turned to passion. Clothes would be ripped, Malcolm's neck bitten, hands going into trousers and eventually Julius would assert his authority and have Malcolm kneeling on the floor. Perfect position for either oral gratification (swearing was not the only good thing Malcolm could do with that mouth of his) or for kicking him back and pinning him down on the carpet for some good old-fashioned buggery.
Julius never let Malcolm go on top, he was fledgling and in no way equal to a Master – something the rest of Julius' offspring accepted.
Malcolm never had and never will. Vampires are not prone to having premonition among their talents but Julius felt uneasily like tonight he was going to lose to the silver-haired Glaswegian.
*
The Vampire Director of Communications strode up the driveway of Julius' ancestral estate and snarled, spitting out profanities and loudly promising grievous bodily harm against the fuckwit who had dragged him halfway across England for a poncy tea party. Malcolm fucking loathed all this vampire 'tradition' nonsense; they were predators, designed to feed off humans, not have cucumber fucking sandwiches with them.
His mind shifted to work, he still had a shit-ton of jobs to do to keep a few more stories out of the press and to leak some that he found acceptable in return. He'd asked Sam to 'just keep things ticking over' while he went to Julius' tonight but he did worry about the wee thing. Julius had included his invite to Malcolm's PA as well as to the man himself but Satan would be doing the fucking luge before he dragged her into this shit.
A greeting, a fucking fight and a swift exit back to work. That's all, Malcolm told himself, just go in, lamp the fuckers and go back to Sam.
*
The ancient wood floors creaked as Julius' guests arrived and were divested of their coats by David, Julius' faithful and non-vampiric butler. Judging by the noise, several of them had brought along fledglings or donor partners of their own – although Julius had secured a number of willing donors for the night it was nice to have backups.
I wonder if Malcolm will bring Sam along.. he thought briefly. The scene of the last fight he'd had with Malcolm flashed up in memory; chairs destroyed, windows smashed and a 17th century desk reduced to dust just because Julius had tried to talk to Malcolm about his young PA. No, whatever the hell his fledgling was up to with the young lady would go undiscovered for now. Julius wanted a quiet evening, not the destruction of half his property.
David interrupted his reverie by opening the great wooden doors into the drawing room and motioning the visitors in. All as beautiful as he remembered, beloved offspring, ageless, familiar. They each came up in turn according to age (eldest first, as it proper) and made obeisance to the one who had made them.
“Sire”
“Ahh good evening Victoria, I trust the journey from Kiev was pleasant?”
“Of course, and congratulations Sire”
“Good evening Sire”
“Alexandria. How are the wilds of Canada suiting you after Alaska?”
“Far greater. Would you care for a visit sometime?”
“It would be my pleasure”
“Sire”
“Oh Peter, I am so glad you could make it”
“Would not have missed this for the neck of an untouched virgin, Sire”
“Sire”
“Robert, you look radiant”
“Amazing country Japan. So many new flavours. Will you be visiting in your new role?”
“We'll see, but it is lovely to see you all after so long” He was just finishing greeting Robert when a loud crash echoed from the hall and his youngest blew into the room in a flash of anger-fuelled grey menace.
“Where is that fucking BALD CUNT?”
“Ahh good evening Malcolm”
He'd barely got the greeting out before the Director of Communications had his slender fingers round Julius' throat and his mad grey eyes an inch from his face. “Don't ye FUCKING 'Good evening' me you fucking poofter. I had work to do, actual fucking WORK and I didn't need tae be dragged out here to play cunting happy families with a bunch of rich tossers I don't give a fuck about” Julius could see his other fledglings moving in to try and restrain Malcolm but he waved them away. Malcolm noticed the action and snarled over his shoulder: “you inbred fucks try to take me on and I'll give the entire fucking bunch of you a holy water enema before encasing ye in concrete and lobbing you in the Thames.”
Julius firmly removed the fingers digging into his skin and ran a thumb across the palm of Malcolm's hand. “So violent, even before you were turned. Have the years not calmed you beloved?” he raised the hand up to Malcolm's neck and stroked there, noting with satisfaction his fledgling's eyes dilate and breathing hitch.
Not that this would stall Malcolm at all. “If ye call me fucking 'beloved' again I'm going tae ram a wooden spike into your prostate” he swatted Julius' hand away and stepped back.
“Do try to behave Malcolm, I do not often make these summons and certainly not to all of you” Julius' eyes started to glow amber as he stared down at his youngest. “I'm Head of the Council now, supreme over the vampires of the British Isles and by God I will be having some respect from an uneducated pleb from the slums of Glasgow”
Malcolm just sneered “Bite me ye short-fanged cunt” and Julius leapt, slamming Malcolm against the wall and sinking his fangs into his neck in a split second. Malcolm tasted of wild ancient highlands and stone walls, eternal and capable of holding out all attackers, a taste so delicious that the first time Julius tasted it he'd nearly killed Malcolm by draining him dry. He was not going to make that mistake again and stepped back after only a few hard swallows.
“Now we've all been introduced, I believe dinner is ready if you all would care to follow me?” Julius wiped the last traces of Malcolm's blood off his lips and walked out of the room. It would have taken the eyes of an eagle to see both men sporting considerable erections for a while there.
Malcolm wiped his neck off, the holes already closing, and ground his teeth. Fine, that's the way ye want to play it? He settled his suit back into shape and followed the rest of them down the hall. Then, Sire, I will have ye on the fucking floor beggin' for me before this night is out. I am no fucker's pet dog.
