Finders, keepers - 7. Prompt 256

Once we had passed that line of intimacy, sharing our bed and bodies, there was no going back. Not that we wanted to. I woke up in the mornings feeling happier than I had in my entire life, wrapped in his arms. The nights and to be honest any time we could be alone were filled with exploration. After a year there wasn’t an inch of our bodies that we hadn’t thoroughly investigated and enjoyed. I could never tire of his hands on me, his lips against mine, his cock inside me taking me. He might have been the virgin, but he was quick to learn. His education made for sometimes slightly embarrassing but always highly pleasurable times.

It was the bond between us that made it so very good. We connected on such a deep level. During all of our fun, I never doubted this was what he wanted and needed. Just like me, he couldn’t seem to get enough. For a young man, that was perhaps not surprising, but it eased my feelings of me taking advantage of him when I was flooded by his desire. It fanned my own and sometimes I thought we would never come back down from those highs.

Unfortunately, our intense but essentially peaceful home life wasn’t matched by the rest of the world. We heard the news of the start of the war on the radio and feared what it would mean for us. Lots of young men from our town wanted to join immediately, driven by their desire to defend their homeland. George was torn. He couldn’t imagine leaving me alone, fearing how that would affect me. Still, he wanted to do his bit. I tried to assure him I would be all right, but couldn’t help being scared myself. If he had to go, where would that leave me? How would I survive? Would I go back to my existence as an inhuman beast, killing to satisfy my hunger? That thought made me terrified.

Then one day he got his letter.

“I won’t go! I’ll tie myself to an apple tree and never let go!” George was adamant but totally unrealistic. It wasn’t a choice. When you were called, you had to go. He was over 18 now and a man in the eyes of the government. He had to fight this war, this terrible war. My heart was aching at the thought of seeing him go, knowing there was a definite risk I would never see him again. He wasn’t a soldier, didn’t know how to handle a weapon. They would teach him, change him. What would he see on his time away? My condition had made me slip through the cracks and I had never had to join in any war effort. In the eyes of the government, I probably didn’t exist anymore. I had however seen the effect of war on the minds of men all over the country. Would my sweet George be forced to see things no man should? What would that do to his heart? His gentle nature?

“You can’t. It’s not your choice, you know that. You’ll be a fine soldier, defending our country, doing what’s right.” I tried to be reassuring, but the words sounded hollow even to me.

“But what about you? How will you survive? There must be some way we can tell them…”

“Tell them what? That your male lover needs you as food? Do you have any idea how fast they will lock you up in prison or an asylum? And me? Me they’ll probably use as a guinea pig in some effort to figure out what I am. You can’t tell anyone anything! You know that.” I went up to him and caressed his face. I leaned my forehead against his. “I’ll be fine. I survived for a long time without you and I can survive until you come back.”

“But how? You can’t feed from anyone else.” Through the bond I could tell he really meant he wouldn’t allow it, his jealousy coming across as stinging sparks.

“I’ll eat when you are home on leave. Or I’ll find some animal. You know that works if I’m really hungry. At least for a while.”

“And if I don’t come back…?” His words, the words I didn’t want to hear or even think about hung in the air between us.

“You will come back. I just know you will.” I hugged him to me and we stayed like that for a long time. Almost as if we wanted to store the heat from our bodies for the time when we weren’t together.

He left on a Wednesday. I held back my tears until he left, not wanting him to see me so distraught. I had to be strong for him. But when I was finally alone, I let my tears fall, tears of fear and loneliness. I didn’t know how or even if I could make it until he came home on leave. The thought of going out to find someone to feed from felt so wrong. I had promised him though, to stay strong for him. To take care of myself. It worried him to not be here to make sure I was having my needs met. Somehow, I had to find a way.

The months went by so slowly. I tried to keep working at the various farms doing odd jobs as usual, like mending broken fences or working the harvest, but I kept getting questions about why I wasn’t joining the war effort. I couldn’t very well tell them I would probably be found out the second I came to the medical examination, so I made up a story about a vague medical disorder keeping me out. Since they all knew I was as strong as an ox, I could see the doubt in their minds. Having them think I was a coward was however better than letting them find out the truth about my condition.

The highlight of my daily life was the irregular letters I got from George. To see his peculiar handwriting worming across the paper had me in tears on more than one occasion. He said they couldn’t write very often, but he would try to write me when he could. It wasn’t enough to ease my longing for him. I wanted to hold him, not just hear his voice in my head. The bond was working even through the great distance between us, but it felt very diluted. As if all the other emotion whirling around in the world caused interference in our link. Sometimes late at night we could connect. In the quiet night, our thoughts reached out to each other and like slivers of moonlight across a darkened sky, our minds twined together. At first, it was merely comfort, but as time went by, our feelings turned more intense. I touched myself, sending him my thoughts of him and what I pictured him doing to me. The longing for him grew, as did my hunger.

At first it was just an empty feeling in the pit of my stomach, a mere itch in my gums. As the weeks and months wore on, I got hungry, so very hungry. I had a relapse in my very vivid fantasies about letting my fangs sink into the neck of some guys I worked with. My dreams started to have only one theme, blood. I knew I had to do something and quickly or I would attack someone.

One day, Carl, our foreman, followed me home to help me carry a new kitchen table I had got for free from the farmer’s wife. We struggled with the damn thing, a heavy, solid wood piece. I knew it would fit very well in George’s and my home. Once we had it in place and had removed the old table, I felt I owed him at least a drink.

“Would you like a beer?” I looked over my shoulder at him. He grunted affirmatively, wiping sweat from his forehead. I sat down across from him and we enjoyed the cool beverage in companionable silence. Carl was a bit older than George, in his thirties and was excused from the war effort due to his age and the fact that he was deemed to do more good working on food supply than fighting in the war. He didn’t complain about not being allowed to go and I got the impression his family had traumatic experiences from the Great War some twenty years earlier. Even though he was older, he was far from old looking in my eyes. He had an easy strength about him and with his reddish blond hair he appeared youthful. All in all a handsome man. It was only the lines in his face that revealed his age. I sometimes wondered if he had someone special in his life. I couldn’t very well ask, since that would be literally asking for trouble.

“So, you miss your cousin…?” Something in the way he said it, made all the hairs on my body stand on edge. His eyes met mine and I just knew he knew. I tried to keep a passive face, afraid to reveal too much.

“Yes, of course. I worry about him.” It was true and I felt it safe to be that open to him, even though my heart was trying to break out of my chest due to my spiking anxiety. He gave me a long look and then reached out to touch my hand, slowly letting the tips of his fingers stroke the back of my hand.

“It must get very lonely…” The meaning of his words suddenly hit home. In his eyes, I could see my own loneliness mirrored back to me. He was also lonely. Lonely and apparently interested in me. The hunger suddenly slammed into me with a force that almost had me moaning. For one intense moment, I was all set to jump over the table, pin him to the floor and just feed. The temptation was so strong. I wasn’t actually attracted to him in that way, but his blood called out to me. My senses honed in on his body and I could feel his heart beating, hear the blood rushing through his veins. I was so very hungry and his scent was very alluring. He wanted me, but I doubted very much he wanted what I had in mind. With a supreme effort of will, I managed to push back my instinct and regain control over myself. I retracted my hand.

“Well, it’s manageable.” I kept my tone off handed to make myself clear. We weren’t going to ease each other’s loneliness. He looked disappointed, but didn’t press the matter further. Breathing a sigh of relief, I cleared away the empty bottles. He got the message and left. When I was alone again, I realized I was shaking all over. This had been too close. I had almost reverted back to being that monster. The fact that I came so close to betray George made things so much worse.

I was so ashamed of my reaction and I knew I had to act. A few days later, under cover of night, I snuck back to the farm where I worked, stole a piglet and brought it home. Somehow, its whimpering and squeals made me more ill at ease than all the humans I had attacked. Maybe because I knew I wasn’t that creature anymore. I was someone else now, I was George’s. For him I had to be human. Or as human as I could be with my craving.

There was no way out of this. I t simply had to be done. I hit the pig over the head and then I struck. The blood felt all wrong and I got nauseous, but I kept on drinking. It had to work. If not, I was doomed. Doomed to repeat my horrible past. When I finally couldn’t take anymore, I sat on the bed with the now dead pig in my arms and cried. The hunger had diminished and I knew I could survive or at least exist like this until George got home. I felt safe but disgusted by myself. As the hot tears fell from my eyes, my only wish was for the war to end, so he would come back.

Focusing on work and keeping my hunger in check, I endured the months as they went by. After about a year on my own, I suddenly felt an unusually strong wave of excitement through the bond. Something had clearly got George very happy, but I couldn’t tell what. Details were never clear through our connection. When I got his letter some days later, I understood the reason. He was coming home on leave. George was coming home, at least for a while. My heart was beating faster and I could hardly contain myself from running up and down the street, yelling “He’s coming home!” for all to hear.

Waiting for him was torture. The days dragged on and I was having trouble sleeping. At work, they just laughed at me for being so absentminded and I suspected a few of them actually had the nature of my relationship with George figured out. At least one part of it… They didn’t say anything, maybe because they all loved George and wished the best for him. Sometimes, I even thought they liked me.

Then the day came. I had planned to meet him at the station, but I had to help out at the farm with a horse that had been injured and needed to be restrained while the veterinarian worked on its leg. When I was allowed to leave, I rushed home to wash up. I had just finished my bath, standing in only my pants, when I felt George so very close. His presence flooded me and my knees almost buckled.

And there he was. In the doorway. George. In his khaki uniform and leather boots. Looking as sweet as he had when he left. Or so I thought. On a closer look, I realized his eyes had changed. Where there had been youthful optimism and a profound belief in things working out, there was now darkness. He had seen things no man should have to see. All these emotions poured into me as we looked at each other. In that moment, it was as if I had been there with him in battle, at his side when grenades fell and bullets flew. When men died in anguish and pain.

Underneath his feelings of fatigue and weariness, there was the familiar need he had for me. I focused on that feeling, pushing the other feelings out and decided I would deal with them another time. Not now. Not with George finally here.

The smell of him filled my nose and my desire for him seized me. Feeling my fangs push through the gums so fast it hurt like hell, I involuntarily made a sort of growling noise. George took a few steps inside and closed the door. Impassive, he seemed to wait for me to make a move. I picked up a bit of apprehension from him and realized I was scaring him a little. Both through our connection and in the way I looked. I was sure he could see it in my eyes, all that longing. My mouth felt all wrong too. I acted like a predator, aiming for him.

“Hello…” He sounded a bit unsure and I mentally scolded myself. I had to calm down or he would be scared of me. After a few deep breaths, I was able to speak. My words sounded strange, but I never had been able to speak clearly with my fangs out.

“I’ve missed you…” My words were the understatement of the year. Hell, the century! We fell silent again, letting our minds talk for us. Simply enjoying the feeling of being in the same room.

Then the hunger decided things were moving too slow. It demanded I act and act now. Deep inside I felt my ache for him and I could tell George could feel it too. After he removed his jacket, he turned to me. I let him feel the full force of my want and the power of it made him quiver. His eyes went wide and he gasped. Without taking his eyes from me, he fell to his knees.

“Do with me as you wish, Levi…” His words were no more than whispers, but I heard him loud and clear. I got close to him and stood in front of him. He focused his eyes on mine and tilted his head to the side, exposing his strong, beautiful neck. The veins throbbing beneath the skin made my head spin. Seeing him like this made me give in to my need to have him. I couldn’t hold back any longer. I opened my pants and pushed my hardening cock in his face. I let the power of my need rush through me, take over.

“Suck me!” I was surprised by my tone of voice. So commanding and sure of myself. This wasn’t like me. We did shift positions on occasion, but usually George decided who did what. I was never very assertive. It made me wonder why now. Was it his absence? The intensity of the hunger?

George’s eager moan as he put my cock in his mouth stopped any hesitant thoughts. I felt my way into his mind and for the first time I pushed further, pushed against his own limit. He didn’t fight back, but he wouldn’t let me in. Not completely, not like I needed him to do tonight. Something in the hunger demanded more of him, more surrender. I grabbed his cap and threw it across the room. Running my fingers through his hair, I pushed myself deeper inside his mouth, down his throat. He gagged, but I didn’t stop. I pushed and pushed, equally forceful in body and mind, until I felt him relax. Both his throat and his mind. He let me in. Even though my reaction almost scared me, I wanted to yell in victory. Instead, I stroked his head, sending him good feelings about how pleased I was through the bond. This had him moaning around me and I could see he was touching himself through his uniform pants. His cock was straining to get out. I knew we were going very fast, but I couldn’t wait anymore. I had to have him.

“Stand up. Hands on the table.” He pulled off my cock and looked up at me. His eyes were sort of dreamy and glazed, like he was somewhere far away, lost in the farthest and deepest parts of his mind. Still, he was present enough to obey me immediately. Standing up in a surprisingly fluid motion, he compliantly turned and put his hands where I had requested, on the table.

I positioned myself behind him and reached around. When I had opened his pants, I pulled them down over his ass. They got stuck at his knees, making it impossible for him to move very much. He thrust his now freed cock into the air, so filled with the want and desire I flooded him with. I tuned into him for a moment and felt his joy at being home, being allowed to take care of me, giving himself to me. My hands traveled over the small of his back, pushing his uniform shirt up to expose more of his skin. Then I let them move down to caress his ass. He shivered under my touch. A corresponding quiver went through my mind. I felt for his cock and it was clear he was as eager as me to go further. With two fingers, I applied some oil from our little bottle that stood on the table. I then let them sink into him, first one then the other. He groaned out loud and pushed back against my hand. His naked, perfect ass looked almost obscene with the rest of him still in clothes and the boots on.

“Oh, Levi, please don’t stop. I need you. Please, I need you…” Hearing him begging, feeling him surrender to my touch was like lighting a fire within me. I stroked my cock a few times, getting oil on it too. Then I grabbed his hips and push myself in. He cried out, but I kept going. I was on the verge of losing control, but I managed to hold back long enough to finally feel him push back against me.

“Fuck me, Levi. Make me feel it! Fuck me hard!” There was a tone of desperation in his voice, as if he needed me to make him realize he was really here with me, safe in our home. Not at the front.

“I’m going to fuck you till you come.” I growled in his ear as I thrust into him. He whimpered in response, flattening his hands on the table to keep from sliding away from the force of my movements. When he tried to reach down to his cock, I grabbed his hands.

“No!” It was clear this surprised him, but he didn’t fight me. I took his cock in my own hand and stroked him as I slid in and out of him. We were nearing the end and I leaned even closer, my breath fanning over his neck.

“Bite me, Levi. I want you to bite me. I’m going to come.” He panted out the words. I licked the side of his throat, tasting his sweat. Tasting George. The feel of his ass around my cock was getting too much for me and I knew I had to act now. There was no way I could stop myself, not now when he pleaded for me to strike. I bit him and fireworks went off between us. The taste of his blood and feeling him pulsate around me drove me higher as I released inside him. Our orgasms seemed to go on forever.

Afterwards, we collapsed on the bed, all sweaty, exhausted but satisfied. The hunger that had plagued me was gone. I felt strong and in control once again. Lying next to George felt so much better than sleeping alone. George had got rid of his uniform and was now naked beside me. I had also stripped out of my pants, wanting as much skin on skin contact as possible.

“I wasn’t too rough?” I asked feeling a bit nervous. I was still somewhat puzzled by my own actions.

“No, that was perfect. You were perfect.” His sleepy, content words made me smile. “I needed to feel something, really feel something.” His words were tinged with a sadness I had never heard before. “You know, people are not very nice to each other. And for what? Stupid ideas about some being better than others. Humans are a truly horrible animal…” I didn’t know how to respond, so I simply hugged him tighter. I felt him relax in my arms and he kissed the top of my head.

All was once again right in the world. At least for now.

After he left, life returned to the dreary existence without him. I managed to get by on the infrequent visits from George on leave and the occasional piglet. I didn’t thrive, but I didn’t have to succumb to my blood lust either. The war time at home was tough, but since I didn’t require any food I got by easier than most. The only thing was of course the constant worry about George and the fear that something would happen to him. I saw too many telegrams be delivered, heard too many pained screams from families who had lost a loved one that I was constantly on edge. I guess everyone was.

Then one day that man came to my door.

I opened the door and just stared at him. I desperately tried to hold it together, when he suddenly held up a hand.

“It’s not that kind of message. It’s just a telegram.” He handed it over. I tore it open and started to read. It took a few times, but eventually I grasped the content. George was not dead. He was wounded and had been in critical condition. Now, he was at a military hospital outside of London and would need help to get home. He was being discharged. To hear that he was alive and home made me happier than I had been in a very long time. At the same time, I knew nothing about his injury. I had to go to him, of course, but what awaited me when I got there? What had happened? The telegram contained no such information, only an address.

It took me a few days to get everything organized. I tried to phone the hospital for more information, but couldn’t get through. The train ride was nerve wracking and I prepared myself for the worst, even if I couldn’t decide what would be worst. I finally concluded I could handle any physical changes, but I really hoped George didn’t suffer from the mental changes I had seen in some of the neighbors that had returned from the front. They were mere shadows of their former selves, withdrawn, scarred and full of fear. Some even heard voices or had violent nightmares, making them a threat to their families who tried so desperately to help. I would of course help George no matter what, but if his injury had affected his mind I didn’t think we would be able to continue with our arrangement regarding feeding. The thought to not be allowed to taste his sweet blood again made me so very sad. What would happen to our bond if I had to feed elsewhere? I loved George. Could we still be together if I went hunting? Or would I have to get another source for my feeding? Wouldn’t that be like cheating? The thoughts buzzed around my head. I had no answers until I met him, but I couldn’t stop the speculation going on inside my mind.

When I went up the stairs to his room after getting directions from a stern nurse at the front reception, all I felt was trepidation. I couldn’t be happy about seeing George, not yet. Not when our whole existence could be at stake.

I stepped into his room. Or rather the room he shared with quite a few other men. Not much privacy there. I didn’t need to look for him though. I immediately felt where he was and was pulled towards him. He looked so small, lying there on the big, white pillow. His hair had grown out a bit, perhaps during his convalescence, and was in need of a comb. His face looked so young as he slept. So peaceful, but I could see lines on his face that hadn’t been there before. He had got older.

Standing by his bed, I hesitated. Maybe I should let him sleep? I couldn’t see any injuries and counted two arms and two legs, so I breathed a sigh of relief. There were no injuries to his head either. I wondered what had happened. Finally, I couldn’t wait and reached out for his hand. It was warm and soft to the touch. I let my thumb stroke the back of his hand. His eyelids fluttered and then he opened his eyes. At first, he didn’t seem to focus, but the smile on his face let me know he already knew it was me.

“Hello, handsome.” He spoke in a low voice, but his daring statement made me stiffen. What if someone heard? “Don’t worry, nobody cares in here. They are all just happy to be back in one piece. More or less.” He hadn’t lost his sense of humor at least.

“What happened? Are you all right? Where are you hurt? They didn’t say. I was so worried, I couldn’t…” He held up his other hand to stop my flow of questions.

“I was shot in the stomach and the right leg. Hurt like hell. Practically died. Seems I’m going to be fine now, more or less.” His attitude was cavalier to say the least.

“More or less? What does that mean?” I didn’t like how whining my voice sounded, but I guess my worry had to seep out somewhere.

“The doc said I might suffer from pain to some degree for quite a while and I’ll probably have a limp, but other than that I’m fine.” He looked at me and it was like we connected at that time. Finally connected. “I’m fine…” His words released all the tension in me and I bent over to hug him. It felt amazing to feel him against me again, warm and alive. I wanted to get in his bed to feel his body next to mine, but figured that might be pushing things a bit far. I had to settle for burying my nose in the curve of his neck and breathe in his scent. The dizzying effect of smelling him made me deaf to anything going on around me and George had to shake me by the shoulders to make me realize he was talking to me.

“The doc’s here.” He gestured with his chin and I turned around to face a short man with impeccable hair. His white coat let me know he was the doctor.

“Well, I’m glad you’re awake, Mr. Keller. And this is…” He looked at me. I got all tongue tied as usual in the presence of any type of authority.

“Levi Keller.” George answered for me, but that wasn’t my name. “He’s my cousin. He’ll get me home.” I didn’t say anything, simply nodded.

“Good, good. We need this bed for new patients. You’ll recover much better at home. No more we can do for you now, anyway. I will discharge you as soon as possible.” The doctor had already lost interest in George, moving on to more challenging patients. In this case, being uninteresting was good.

I stayed with George through the day, until he was finally discharged. He needed a cane to walk with but together we made it to the train station and found a train back home. The minute we sat down, he fell asleep in my lap. I spent the journey home fiddling with his hair, luxuriating in the feeling of having a living George discharged and on his way home with me.

Now, all truly was right in the world.