The San’layn - Part 1
[M/M, cis, gay, vampires, WoW]
You kept telling yourself that it was fine, you’d been there thousands of times.
You weren't afraid of anything, you could literally cast fire out of your hands!
Yet you couldn't help but feel as if you were being watched by something… or someone.
You had grown bored with arcane baubles and cute little books and dainty magic that the Kirin Tor occupied themselves with in Dalaran. You could hardly sit still as you listened to yet another lecture about the dangers of blood-magic from an older mage in the Hall of the Guardian. You wanted some fun, so you left.
The icy winds of Northrend slapped you awake as you materialised in front of Icecrown Citadel. You’d missed this place. The new Lich King wouldn’t mind if you came in and cleaned up a little, now would he…?
No less than an hour later you found yourself knee-deep in dead, smouldering Scourge that had lingered around the bowels of the dark fortress. Pure destruction magic was simple enough, but its effects were exhilarating. You burned ghouls, geists, abominations, hell, even Val’kyr down in swathes with ease as you tore your way through the familiar halls. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, but anything even remotely interesting would make the trip worth it. Better than the Kirin Tor and their mindless lectures. By the time you had reached the Crimson Halls, you were growing bored and hoping to find some kind of relic or something.
But once again… you couldn’t help but feel that something was different this time. The hair on the back of your neck raised and you could feel something getting closer. You began the incantation for a massive pyroblast spell, and whirled around to face whatever was stalking you.
Except there was nothing. You looked in every direction feasible. Were you just losing your mind?! You could have sworn you felt something. You'd fought your way through Icecrown Citadel hundreds, probably thousands of times in exterminations and clean-ups, yet you’d never felt such an intense dread before. You knew better than to let your guard down. Not like it mattered, anyway.
An iron grip locked itself on your arm. Something was behind you. You struggled to free yourself, panic coursing through your veins. An animalistic growl emanated from the thing holding you, and a searing pain rippled through your body as you felt its sharp teeth pierce your throat. Blood gushed from the wound and you screamed in agony.
Your entire body combusted into an amalgamation of living flames. The gaping wound on your neck instantly cauterised under the intense flames engulfing your being. You felt the thing release you, and you whipped around to face it, ready to strike.
The thing was… an elf? He looked to be Sin’dorei, just like you… but more of a wild beast than a man. Whereas your eyes burned with green fel-magic, his radiated sanguine malice. Those piercing eyes glared at you from a sunken, starved face and his skin was the pale-blue of a drowned corpse.
A feral hiss escaped the elf’s mouth. He clutched his hand to his chest, and his hateful stare bored into you. You readied your spell and launched an enormous ball of flames at him. A wall of ice suddenly burst forth between you and the elf-thing, deflecting your attack but melting in the process. As the mist and smoke dispersed, your heart dropped into your stomach. He was gone.
You began casting another spell when suddenly you felt him behind you again. Pure, unrelenting panic seized you as your spells failed to come into fruition. Terror gripped your heart as you looked down to see that your arms and legs were encased in razor-sharp, solid ice. You struggled to conjure some sort of flame, your eyes glowing and smoke pouring from your mouth as you willed every part of your being to connect with the flames, but to no avail.
Your heart almost stopped when he touched you. You weren’t ready to die, you were far too magnificent to die to some animal! His hands didn't’t tear you apart as you expected them to, however. Rather, they were gently cradling your hips.
In a gravelly voice that echoed with the obvious taint of the Scourge, he whispered in your ear, causing your skin to crawl.
“Mother always told us not to play with our food… But she’s dead now, so who’s stopping me…?”
You looked down to see his pale hands undoing your belt buckle. Was he… was he coming on to you? He gently bit your elongated ear and growled softly as he began lifting up your robe, no longer tethered in place by your belt. His hand slid into your silken undergarments, and he gently stroked you. Oh gods, he was coming on to you. You gasped as you felt yourself grow harder. He began to stroke your cock delicately. You purred aloud without even realising it, and upon catching yourself, you weren’t sure if what you were feeling was fear anymore. He cackled. He rested his chin on your shoulder, and his other hand easily tore your undergarments clean off. Your engorged cock swelled in his hand as he softly stroked the length of your penis, and his other hand snaked around you, under your other frozen arm, fondling your balls. You couldn’t feel your hands or feet any longer, and somehow that made the experience far more intense. You felt a pressure mounting within you, and cum gushed out of you and onto the floor of the now-desolate Crimson Halls. Upon release, you let out an exasperated gasp.
“See… the San’layn aren’t ALL barbarians…” he whispered, his voice deep and sultry, “now it’s my turn.”
You heard the clanking of plate armour dropping to the floor behind you. His hands no longer cradled your still-dripping cock, and you had a feeling he was undressing behind you. You felt him push himself up against you. His girth was… impressive. You could feel his large cock against your rear. He loosed a primal growl, and you moaned loudly as he plunged himself into you. He started slowly, his hips gyrating as he moved in and out of you with the utmost grace. You whimpered and soft moaning escaped your lips. The side of his face was pressed against yours, and you felt him grin in response to your noises. You felt his sharp fangs, cold against your cheek. He didn’t breathe, but still he sighed and growled as his cock swelled within you.
His hands travelled up your robe, icy cold but not shocking against the fiery heat of your body. He studied every inch of your torso, and then his hands slid down to your waist. He pulled himself flush against you, his enormous cock entirely within you now.
You screamed with a mixture of ecstacy and agony as you felt those long fangs plunge into your throat once again. Your inner fire blazed, but no magic would come to aid you now. Even as crimson vitality poured from your body, you couldn’t muster the strength or focus to begin a blood-magic spell. You felt your life-force being siphoned into him. Your eyes grew heavy and your head grew lighter. His nails were like talons, raking across your helpless body, tearing your robes to shreds and blood spurting from your wounds.
The combination of adrenaline, lightheadedness, and ecstasy launched you into an unimaginable state of euphoria. Your cock swelled and you felt yourself wanting to come again. Your insides tightened, and the San’layn plunging himself into you growled like a wolf. He began to thrust harder, and much faster. You weren’t sure if the screaming you heard was actually coming from your mouth, but as your hips rocked back and forth as the vampire pushed himself inside of you, you yearned for nothing else in the world.
His fangs were still latched into your throat, yet he grunted and groaned as he continued to thrust. His claws raked across your back, and you felt a cascade of warm blood trailing down your body. He was thrusting so hard that you thought you felt as if you might also be bleeding inside, but the dizzying cocktail of stimuli assaulting your senses made it hard to tell. Not like you cared.
You reached weakly to begin stroking yourself - wait, you weren’t frozen anymore? You weren’t sure when the ice sloughed off of you, but you wouldn’t do anything to stop him now. A stream of cum cascaded from your cock once again, and from behind you, he let out a sultry, primal growl. He was going so fast now, you would have been dizzy from pleasure regardless of blood loss. You heard him stop grunting and moaning for a moment as a gasp caught in his throat, and you felt his swollen cock begin to twitch inside of you. He cried out with a guttural roar, and you felt a wave of cum pour into you. He stayed inside of you, howling, gasping, moaning, and rigidly holding your hips flush to his. He convulsed and shook and he released all of that pressure into you. As he withdrew his soaking wet cock from your dripping hole, you fell backwards into him. He caught you, his arms like cold stone.
You felt the last bit of life ebbing away from your body. Nothing seemed real. You were dying. Your legs buckled and your head cleared enough to hear your laboured breathing.
The San’layn gently turned you over in his arms. His eyes were now a soft, icy blue, and concern was plastered across his face. He pressed you gently against a wall, one hand holding you up by your back, and the other caressing your chin. He leaned in and kissed you. His lips were impossibly soft and gentle, and you felt vitality begin to flow back into your body. Some strength returned to your legs, and he let you stand on your own as the hand holding you up travelled up behind your head, and he gently pressed you into him. You felt yourself able to breathe again without struggle. His other hand slid under the tatters of your shredded robe, and as his had glided over your flesh, you felt your wounds closing.
He withdrew for a moment to look you up and down. Your clothes were in tatters, and you were bruised all over, but you were alive, and colour had returned to the body that had been on the brink of death moments ago. He stepped closer to you. The tip of his nose rested against yours, and his forehead was pressed against you, his eyes closed. He opened them briefly to look at you. His irises were frozen lakes that glowed with the taint of undeath, but his gaze was soft. He brushed your cheek with a pale, bluish hand. He kissed you again, and you felt his arms wrapped around your lower back. You draped yours around his neck and shoulders, and he pulled you flush against him.
It was probably only a few moments, but it felt like an eternity as you locked yourselves together. You swayed like flowers in the breeze together. Your heart beat like a drum, and a wave of euphoria swept over you - but different now. It was happiness. You felt his fingers playing with the ends of your long, crimson hair that cascaded in a mess down your back.
He sighed and stopped to look at you. His tender gaze held you in a trance. You had forgot that any time had passed. In a clearer, deep and echoing voice, he softly spoke to you.
“Come with me.”
You couldn’t find the sense or willpower to respond aside from a dazed nod of your head. Your mind was swimming. The once-haughty, impetuous mage had been reduced to a mute, dumb-struck puppet. He grinned, his fangs now sheathed and reduced to look like normal, if not slightly elongated canines. You melted a little at his smile, and your legs actually buckled. He caught you and held you against him. Your life-force had been returned, but you were still weak and beaten from the entire experience. Your breathing became ragged for a moment as pain shot through you.
With ease, he lifted you up like a ragdoll. Your head lolled to the side, and he cupped your face with one hand, holding you with only one of his statuesque arms. Gracefully he glided through the empty corridors of the Crimson Halls, once the home of the San’layn who had served under Arthas. You felt safe in the vampire’s arms. You looked up at his face as he carried you. Angular, hallowed, yet strong and full, he was an enigma. A dead man with the vitality of someone with the beating heart of a lion. You reached up weakly to touch him, and he looked down at you with a warm grin. You couldn’t muster the strength to reach his face, but managed rather to leave your hand against his colourless chest. You felt no heartbeat.
The ceiling above you was a facade of razor-sharp dark steel and deep crimson tapestry. The San’layn set you down gently on a luxurious bed adorned with a scarlet duvet, gilded with intricate patterns in a sheen of gold and red. He wrapped the blanket around you tenderly. You shivered - Icecrown Citadel was still in the bitterly cold confines of Northrend, and you were still weak.
He left you for a moment and strode across the room. He pulled a lever, and a row of magic-infused lanterns encircling the circumference of the room flared to life, emitting a pleasant, warm glow. You struggled to keep your eyes open, and you began to give into the sweet temptation of sleep. In the fleeting moments that you remained conscious, you felt him lay next to you. He leaned over, draping one arm across you and pulling you onto him so that your head lay on his chest, just below his chin. He kissed the top of your head and ran his fingers through your hair until the clutches of sleep finally claimed you.
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