[Laika]: 661.Contest Entries.Loveless Affairs.Prisoners

I remember it well, like it was yesterday. The scent of june roses filled the air on the park avenues of Paris. Music swung across the calm summer night. I had drunk a few glasses of wine too much with some good acquintances in a recently opened charming little bistro, and my head felt as light as my feet. I had a small piece of paper in my pocket, Francois and a phone number scribbled on it. I felt young, vibrant and alive, Paris never sleeps and that night it felt like I didn't need to, either.

I saw him at Rue des Ecoles. He simply stood there. He leaned his back on a lamp post and caught my eye immediately. He was tall and handsome, quite thin and fit, around his thirties. His hair was wheat blonde and his eyes rock gray, he was dressed in jeans, a white t-shirt and a slightly worn out denim jacket. There was something about his posture and stance, something catlike, that made me notice him among all the other night critters that crowded the city. Before I had time to stop myself I had walked to him and smiled. "Bon soir, monsieur." My French was rusty and my pronounciation sucked, but I got along with it, at least when I was dealing with friendly people.

"Bon soir, mon petit," he said and nodded. I didn't mind being called that, not at all. Not by him, never by him. "We can use English too if the rest of your French is as shaky as your greeting was."

I blushed and he licked his lips. My gaze followed the course of his tongue and something felt warm in my stomach. "Your English is very good. Unlike my French." I reached forward to shake the slender hand offered to me. His grip was firm, his skin was cool. "Antoine."

"Marius," he replied and let his hand linger on mine. "Your name is French, non?" He winked and my knees felt weak.

"Yes. My parents met in Paris, my mother was born here. I have moved back last Christmas, to study. I'm an art major." I felt like I was babbling and shut up. He just smiled and looked at me, as if he was waiting for me to continue. "And..now I have my own place. It's not far from here and not much to look at, but. It's adequate."

"Ah. And that's where you're going now?"

I nodded and he smiled again. "Yeah. To sleep, I have an early class tomorrow."

"Sleep? Such a waste of a perfectly good night." Marius chuckled and finally let go of my hand. "Such a pity, such a pity."

"Oh?" I recognised the inviting tone in his voice. Ah, Paris, the city of love, where handsome strangers hanged out on the streets just awaiting for me to make my pick. "Do you have something else in mind?" Marius nodded and stepped forward. He wrapped his arm around me, held on to my waist and walked me down the street. I felt the movements of his body against mine and shivered in anticipation. "Where are we going?"

"To my place," he said and stroked my hip gently. I purred happily and leaned closer still.

After a short walk he opened a door and let me enter first. Behind the door was a staircase that circled down. Candles burned on candelabres along the way, in small slots in the stone walls. I might've suspected something then, but I just walked down and listened to the steps that were following me.

At the bottom of the stairs there was a door. A perfectly normal apartment door. It was painted blue. Marius opened it and let me in first, again. "Christophe, mon cher. I have something for you," he purred as he guided me into the living room. And there he was, this Christophe. On his back on a brown couch, dressed like in some old painting. Green velvet jacket with gold highlights, lots of lace and trousers down to his knees only. White socks covering his legs and buckled shoes to top the whole thing off. His long brown hair was a bit tangled up and his brown eyes were looking at the ceiling. "Et c'est qui?" Christophe whispered. His voice was hoarse.

"This, mon cher, is our guest. Who prefers English, so if you don't mind?" Marius took off his jacket and put it on a nail while he spoke. Christophe didn't move.

"Uhmh. So..is this going to be a threesome?" I asked, just a bit concerned because of the turn of the events. Marius chuckled and came behind my back, wrapped his arms around me and leaned closer. "If that's what you wish for, mon petit." I shrugged, since I didn't have any strong opinion for or against. This Christophe was quite pretty to look at as well, and I didn't know Marius any better than him.

"Non," Christophe said and sat up slowly. "I'm too tired." His English wasn't as good as Marius', but comprehendable still.

"Too tired? Such a pity," Marius purred and stroked my chest and stomach with his hands. Pulled my shirt up and revealed my skin for Christophe to see.

The man on the couch licked his lips slowly and stared at my warm, smooth skin. "Are you going to keep him, Marius?"

"Maybe," he said and licked the side of my neck. I shivered again, my thoughts got lost in passion. All I wanted was to press close against his naked body and drown into his skin. Then Christophe said something that finally alerted me: "Just kill him tonight, Marius. Don't torture him."

Marius dismissed what Christophe said with his hand. "Fine! Just go hungry, then. But some day - oh, sorry, night - you must feed again."

"Pardon?" I tried to struggle myself free from the man's grip, but he was stronger than me. Held me tight and chuckled. "Aww, mon cher. Now you've scared him." Marius licked the side of my neck again, tracing my pulse with the tip of his tongue. It made me shiver in both fear and lust.

"Marius! Let him go or kill him now. Have mercy on him, I'm tired of watching into big scared pretty eyes that beg for relief from their pain," Christophe snapped as he stood up and walked closer, looking at me with hungry eyes.

"Let something this beautiful go? Don't be ridiculous, mon cher. And don't be a hypocrite either, you know you want it. Fresh, warm blood..you can hear his pulse from there, can't you?" Marius pulled me tighter against himself and made my efforts of escape futile.

"Non.. non.. je ve-- je ne veux pas." Christophe shook his head but couldn't apparently take his eyes off of me. "Please, release him. Nobody will believe him."

"I won't even tell!" I pleaded, in vain. Marius only grabbed my chin firmly and turned my face closer, then he pressed his lips on mine in a violent kiss. I felt a small prick as his fang pierced the skin on my lower lip and tasted the faint metal in my mouth. Christophe stopped and licked his lips again, staring at the wound Marius' lips revealed as they pulled back. "Marius, let him go," he whispered, faintly.

Marius shook his head and licked the blood from my lips. "You know you don't mean what you say. Come on, have a taste."

I was powerless, I could only watch the bizarre little play and dance macabré the two vampires were performing, for who knows how many times before the one I got to witness.

CHRISTOPHE
silently, yet firmly I mean it.

MARIUS
strokes Chirstophe's cheek with his nails No, you don't mean it. Come on. When was the last time you ate?

CHRISTOPHE
Too.. too long ago.

MARIUS
darkly You see, mon cher? Now, be a good boy and feed before you pass out.

CHRISTOPHE
bows his head, defeated Bien sûr.

The imaginary curtain fell and the invisible audience applauded as Christophe stepped closer to me and brushed his fingertips against my throat. "Tu appelles?"

"Antoine," I mumbled and shivered from the touch of those cold fingers. "Je m'appelle Antoine -- Ah!" I yelped in pain as Marius' fangs pierced the skin on the side of my neck. I felt my blood flow through his lips into his mouth. He didn't drink a lot before he pulled back and pushed me closer to Christophe. "Eat."

Christophe mumbled an apology to me and pressed his mouth on the wound. He fed for a long time, a small eternity, while Marius gnawed on my wrist and licked the blood from tiny little wounds. Finally Christophe pulled back, his paleness now changed into a healthy glow and his worn out weakness washed away. "Happy now? Just kill him."

"Non!" I screamed and grabbed his jacket. "Please, I don't want to die."

Marius chuckled and licked my wrist once more. I was too weakened by blood loss to struggle anymore. "You heard him, mon cher. He doesn't want to die. Besides, it'd be such a waste to kill someone this beautiful."

Christophe yanked himself free from me and stepped further back. "He doesn't know, Marius. He doesn't know what this is. And he really doesn't want to languish until you grow tired of him."

"Silence!" Marius' voice was sharp and commanding, it silenced us both. Me and Christophe, who hissed something that wasn't even a word and stormed out of the room. Well, not exactly, but he made really sure his point was clear. Marius laughed and kissed my weary lips. "You won't die tonight, mon petit," he whispered and took me into his arms.

I have been lying here ever since that night. The handcuffs dig in the sore skin of my wrists even though I don't move my hands a lot anymore. But the pain of the sores is the faintest pain I'm feeling now. I feel dizzy on my brief moments of consciousness. I don't really want to know all the injuries I received last night when Marius played a little with me again. The previous fractures and bruises had barely cured and now I have a whole new collection of them, along with bite marks all over my body. "He doesn't know, Marius." Christophe's words have been ringing in my ears every now and then. And I must admit, he was right. I didn't know. I had no idea.

The door clicks and I look up to see Christophe sneak inside. Once again, Marius has lost his interest in me and my affairs the minute he received what he wanted from me. These past months have taught me that much, Marius is selfish and takes pleasure in the pain and suffering of others. And he does the same to Christophe, the same thing he does to me, only in a different way. I've heard how Marius talks to him, how he's being belittled constantly. Mon cher, Marius says, my dear, and the cruelty in those words is that Christophe knows Marius doesn't mean them. And that Marius knows that he knows.

"I brought water," Christophe says and walks to me. He holds a crystal glass with a straw in it, the glass is filled with water. He brings the straw to my aching swollen lips and lets me drink.

"Please tell me you poisoned it," I whisper after I've finished the drink. He shakes his head and touches my hair gently.

"Non, petit. It's not time yet. His orders."

"Have you always been like this? Been Marius' little lap dog?" I mumble, frustrated. I've really had enough of this, of this pain and endless nights and days and not being able to tell them apart anymore. My skin has turned almost paper white from the lack of fresh air and real light. And blood loss.

Christophe throws the glass on the wall. It shatters all over the floor. "You, petit, have been living with him for a few months. Try to do the same for two centuries and then come tell me to disobey."

I don't argue with him anymore. Mostly because the violent behaviour I just saw is the first time I've seen Christophe to really show any emotion at all. The faint resistance to Marius doesn't count. It's not real emotion, it's just a learned habit and way to react.

Just like Christophe is only going through the motions with Marius he does it when attending to my injuries. He pops my shoulder back in its place, ignores my scream, cleans my wounds and doesn't take even a single drop of my blood. His form of self torture and punishment, I suppose, or that's what Marius has told me. "That stupid Christophe, trying to starve himself in sympathy for my pretty slaves. And every time he falls, just like he fell the night I turned him and made him mine."

"Bon nuit, petit," Christophe whispers as he's leaving. I hear the lock click as the key turns and close my eyes, lacking the strength to do anything else.