MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS HUMANS!!!!!!!!!!!!

AS MY GIFT TO YOU ALL FOR BEING SO WONDERFUL THIS YEAR, HERE IS A VERY SPECIAL PACKAGE!

FOR EVERYONE:

– 3 CHAPTERS OF AIASTHLYN (This is 1/3)

– A COUPLE Q&A WITH NIKOLA AND HAGEN

– 2 CHAPTERS OF MY LATEST SHORT STORY, VIRION (ALREADY COMPLETED ON PAID PLATFORMS)

FOR SUBSCRIBERS ON PATREON AND MY WEBSITE:

+ THE FINAL 4 CHAPTERS OF VIRION

+ MAX AND RUBEN GO ON A DATE

ENJOY AND PLEASE REMEMBER TO COMMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!

———————

Malcolm

˚

There is nothing more terrifying than the moment you realise that a part of you that you have kept hidden for your entire life may have just been exposed. Worst yet, when you can not even steal a moment to process it.

I follow Aias, stumbling like a drunken fool as my mind forces my idling body into motion. He is already far ahead of me, golden hair tousled in the wind, and he does not stop to look back at me, which I can never thank the Gods enough for when my stomach turns just imagining what he might see.

My hands are sweaty, rivalled only by my chest, which is suddenly drenched in what must be a bucketful of sweat. I feel as if I might vomit or shout until my voice goes hoarse, just to get this feeling out.

It is as if an ant’s hill has been disturbed inside me, and now all of the inhabitants are rushing out of their nest. Only, they’re not searching for an escape, simply a new place to set up shop.

Aias opens the door, bringing with him light and a glimpse of an angry Kalem accompanied by a troubled Lincoln that I barely take in before I slam myself against the wall to hide from their view.

Why? Because it is then, belatedly and without mercy, that my mind reminds me that I am still very much hard.

I have no heart to pound in my ears as accounts suggest, but I have the mounting, thundering thoughts of my fraying mind to fill the space and drown out all else.

What had I been thinking? What had he been thinking? What if they saw? What if Lincoln called for me?

He does not. He does not even ask for me as he leaves Kalem with a promise to return soon that goes unanswered, and then, his tyres are ousting dirt and stones as he peels off as quickly as he had arrived.

I follow suit and run for the hills.

Lincoln probably left the boy here to be protected in my care, but if Lincoln had stayed for a moment longer, he would have known I am in no state to care for anyone. I, in fact, do not think I have ever been more scared.

I use the backdoor, and do so silently. I run without direction or station, only sprinting until I am too far to sense Aias, let alone feel him, and far enough that I hope he can not do the same.

Only then, when I find myself at the edge of a blistering mountain where ice and snow alone offer my reflection, does my body free the true behemoth of my panic.

“No…” I sink to my knees while my shaking fingers clutch at my roots. “No. No. No. No.”

Aias knew. Surely he knew by now if he had not guessed before that I wanted him beyond simple company or friendship, and that I desired him in ways no host should.

He will hate me again. A knot forms in my stomach and quickly tightens its own binds.

But that is not what scares me so. It does terrify me to picture returning to a place where all he feels for me is negative, but not as much as it petrifies me to think that he may now know about me. About my… desires.

No one besides Wequie and Lincoln knew the things I thirsted for in my soul, because I had never shared them with another, or allowed them so close as to uncover it. But he had to have known now— had to, to have spoken to me so.

I am not like my counterparts— not like other vampires.

Vampires sought to own and overpower prey and all else, but I had never yearned for that. Never sought to chain another or have those in my company serve me, by any means. If I were built for such things, then my spirit had always rejected it.

What my spirit did yearn for, even I did not admit to myself. I rarely even thought about it, for it could never be achieved, and hoping for nought always bruised, and after the fact, I felt so terribly ashamed of myself.

When I did, it was a moment of weakness that I shackled those desires to. They sprouted in the dark every few millennia, and only then did I touch myself with a mind full of fantasies I could never attain— brief moments of reprieve from my otherwise never-ending disappointment of a life.

Then, Aias disrobed himself before me; had commanded me.

My cock twitches, adding to the moisture seeping through my clothing, and I have to bite my lip to stifle the groan.

I tried to convince myself that my intentions were not impure at the start.

I was only following the unnatural lure that had awoken me and led me to him, and providing him with shelter and safety. And that was true enough— the very thing I would do and had done for many other slaves— but that had not been it alone.

From the moment Aias first sneered at me from his cage as if he sat upon some golden throne I could not see, I had started wanting him for reasons no other vampire did.

Winds wound me at this height, beating upon me for being so perverse, but even that does not dislodge the remnants of my pleasure. The shame inside of me is just as unrelenting and brutal as always, only it is ten times worse now because he knows.

I do not even know how it happened. Try as I might, I can not pin the moment my self-discipline evaporated, but there was no doubt that he could.

The only question is whether he would hate me for being aroused in his presence, or if he would hate me more when he learns of the depraved thoughts in my mind.

I had not a clue which it would be, because before he’d retreated, I had not been able to read the expression on his face in the slightest.

Was it rage, or confusion? Displeasure and disbelief? Fresh hatred that was pending?

I hug my knees to my chest, pressing the limbs tight until I physically can not breathe.

What was I to do? What was I to say?

I could not excuse this away, could not lie and say my reaction was anything other than what it had seemed to be. Aias was too smart for that. But the truth was not an option.

‘You cornered me like an animal and demanded compliance, and that turned me on like everything else you do.’

“Gods, protect me.” I tighten my hold on my legs, deepening the sharp ache of having my legs pressed so.

I close my eyes and try to escape my mind, but it does not bestow me the courtesy. For even as my world crumbles around me and my mind whirls like a never-ending carousel, that part of me— the starved one that Aias had stoked to the surface with his scorched gaze— still finds the time to dwell on what I had seen.

The shape of him when he was naked. The muscular cords that ran through his arms and thighs. The dusty rose shade of his nipples. The firm mounds of his chest. The length that hung between his legs…

I clench my eyes tighter as shame deepens its roots within me, but the memories— the vivid, bewitching memories— do not stop.

I think about the quiet power in that body. I think about his hands, and the warmth of his body when it had cornered mine. I think about his cock— Gods, I think about his cock. So long and thick, and even though I have never let myself have one inside of me, I think— dream about having that cock inside of me.

And I hate myself for it.

I hate myself more than I have ever hated myself before.

˚

When I return, the grounds are dark and quiet, albeit for the light above the front door and the one in the upper room neither Aias nor I use. Kalem must still be here.

I force myself to keep walking. Each step threatens to send me spiralling, but I manage to keep my feet under me and continue on.

The inside is just as eerie as I look around the dark confines, waiting for the flash of gold I might catch before he kills me, but he does not come. Foolish, drawn, and incapable of self-preservation, I go to him instead.

I have claimed only one step when he utters, “Your friend just left.”

A shriek rips from my tongue, and echoes through the manor as I swivel on my feet. Aias stands only six feet away, leaning idly against a nearby wall. His expression is plain, and his eyes empty. He is also, thankfully, clothed.

“My friend?” I manage not to stammer, but it is a near thing, especially when his eyes narrow an inch.

“The vampire Lincoln, unless you were expecting another,” he answers, pushing from the wall with his arms folded over his chest. “He came for Kalem, but he was all blood and fang, so I sent him back.”

“You sent Lincoln away?” I can hardly picture anyone stopping Lincoln from doing anything, though I suppose if there was to be one, it would be Aias.

“He was not pleased,” he replies, golden eyes sharp. “Though he was also covered in blood, so that may have had something to do with his mood.”

Usually, this is where I would laugh or say something smart to try and worm a smile out of him. As I am, I can barely hold my ground, or his gaze.

“You left.”

It is only a statement— the truth, too. I had left. I just did not think he would care.

“I needed a bit of space,” I explain, shifting as I take a step back, adding to the stretch between us. “I… was not myself today.” His eyes narrow to slits, so I continue on hurriedly. “It is no excuse, but that was the closest I have been to another since I stepped into my casket.” My gaze falls; I can not maintain it. “It was a bodily response. I hope you can forgive me.”

It is the words I ironed out my entire journey back, and I am sure they are unimpeachable. I took responsibility for my attraction to him and made it purely physical. I still accepted my wrongdoing, and steadily avoided bringing attention to my… worst parts.

Silence hangs over us, a noose waiting to tighten, and I am sure Aias will be the one to pull the rope, but he remains where he is, and he stays quiet.

When I find the courage to look at him, I tense because he looks… not mad.

I’ve seen Aias mad, and this is not it, but it is close, only stiffer, as if he is trying to contain himself.

I wince, curling into myself. “I am sorry, Aias.”

I mean it with every fibre of my being, and yet I already know it will not be enough.

When he moves, it is towards me, but before I can panic, he passes me by and travels up the stairs, surefooted and unperturbed. I stare after him, my pounding heart lodged in my throat.

“Very well,” he casts over his shoulder, and then, he is gone.

I do not leave my rooms. I board myself in them as Aias had in his the night prior.

It is terrible because there is a guest in my home, a fragile one that Lincoln cares very much for, but I cannot tend to him, because that means also being around him.

From what my ears pick up, Kalem sleeps while Aias stays close, a guard who relinquishes rest for his friend. It is sweet, if not stifling to know that we are both awake and yet remain apart.

It was not as if I was going to avoid him forever. I just had to reclaim my bearings after this afternoon’s fumble.

Aias said he accepted it, but I can not get that look on his face out of my mind. It feels as if he is upset with me, and even just the thought of that upsets me.

Over the last few weeks, I have gone from walking on eggshells around him to prodding him like I would a friend. Without the animosity, my confidence had grown, but that confidence faded after seeing him as I had.

Now I can only ponder and pray to the Gods that some perfect answer falls into my lap to soothe my troubles. Unfortunately, my formulation is put to an end when sobbing sounds from deep within the manor.

I wrap a robe around myself and rush to Kalem’s rooms, for it can only be him. I do not slow or hesitate until I near the doors and meet my other guest making the same approach from the other side.

Aias blinks at me, golden eyes widening for only a moment before he culls the reaction.

“I can handle this alone,” he mutters before opening the door and striding in.

I hesitate for a moment, recognising the dismissal, but no direct command to do so, and while I was sure Aias was better suited to comfort Kalem, I was also sure that if Lincoln found the small human crying in my home, I would be the one to suffer his wrath.

I follow my temptation inside.

Swaddled within his covers, Kalem sobs from the centre of the bed within the dark room. His tears line the length of his face, glimmering in the moonlight, but it is not a pretty sight when he is wailing as terribly as he is.

“Kalem, what is wrong?” Aias urges gently as he sits beside the boy on the bed.

I follow his path, but pause at the nightstand that holds a half-finished cup of water and a phone. Neither Aias nor I own such devil devices, so it must be his.

“M-Master left me,” he sobs while I take possession of the phone. “I-I don’t think he wants me anymore.”

“He did not leave you, Kalem, and I assure you, he does want you.”

I look at Aias with surprise. I would not expect such a calm reply from him, not as someone who hated vampires so vehemently. Should he not want to dissuade the boy from such notions of needing Lincoln?

“I-I’m a bad slave,” Kalem cries harder as he speaks. “M-Master never uses me, a-and he does not ever call me his slave, a-and he took m-my collar away. He doesn’t want me, Aias.”

My stomach turns, causing rancid bile to flood my mouth as I look between the pair.

‘Use him.’ The thought of Lincoln or anyone using him makes me want to vomit, more so when I imagine Aias ever placing the same sentiment onto me.

The boy’s mind was warped, so he did not know what he said, did not know that no one should do such a thing or crave a collar, but Aias knew better. His past was a mystery, but it surely came with a life better than this.

He looks at me then, as if he can hear my thoughts, and his expression hardens tellingly.

“Call the vampire,” he snipes. “Tell him to come.”

My fingers shake as I tinker with the phone until the call begins. It takes only one ring.

“Kalem?” Lincoln’s voice is softer than Aias was saying his name, and I do not think I have ever heard it take such a tone. It startles me so greatly, I forget the purpose of this until he says, “Kalem, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Malcolm,” I correct. “But Kalem is awake, and I think the quicker you get here, the better.”

“What’s happened?” He growls this, and again, I’m a little stunned. Had he not known this human for only a number of days? “Is he alright?”

I glance at the still crying boy. “No, he’s not okay. He is having a mental breakdown as we speak.”

Aias shoots me a glare as Kalem hugs him tighter, and I turn to protect myself from the burn.

“A mental— what did you do? Why is he crying!?”

“I don’t know why!” I protest, frowning now at the devil device. “And I did nothing to him, and neither did Aias. We just found him crying for you.”

“Put him on the phone,” Lincoln demands, and I fail to stifle my sigh.

One would never believe that this was the man who cared for little else than books over the last handful of centuries.

“Kalem,” I say, trying to gentle my tone like the rest of them. Aias’ eyes narrow as if he can tell. “Lincoln wants to speak to you.”

The boy frowns at me as if he does not know who Lincoln is, and I have to bite my lip to stifle a laugh. This was no laughing matter.

“Your beloved Master,” Aias explains to clear the confusion. “Would you like to speak to him?”

Immediately, the boy’s eyes light up as he nods, and my stomach turns again. What in all the realms had Lincoln gotten himself into?

The pair talk, and I do not bother trying to listen. I did not doubt that Lincoln would be nothing but gracious with the boy, but a mind as gnarled as his was difficult to face when on full display.

I glance at Aias again, finding him looking at me even while he holds the boy. His thoughts remain a mystery to me.

When Kalem hands me back the phone, I barely get through scolding Lincoln for putting us in this situation with no forewarning, before the boy is up on his feet and racing out the door.

“Where is he going?” I ask as Aias scrambles after him with a molten glare.

“To be a good slave.”

˚

As it turns out, being a “good slave” means waiting at the door on your hands and knees with your head to the floor.

“Lincoln is going to kill me.”

Kalem ignores me, and so does Aias, though he has not said a word or looked at either of us since Kalem bit him. He had been trying to get the boy to stand, and between all the resistance and fighting, Kalem bit him, and Aias, appalled, immediately backed off.

More than that, he had moved himself closer to me, which… I did not understand, but did not loathe in the slightest.

It is a while still before Lincoln arrives, but the moment he does, he bursts through the door without knocking and pulls the boy up from the floor a second later. He hugs him to him and I watch, mystified.

Lincoln had been with humans before, but they were very few, and he had only ever really cared deeply for one. Timothy, my favourite of his former lovers. He was smart and kind, worldly and especially hilarious. He was confident too, as any had to be to stand beside Lincoln.

But this human… he is nothing of the sort.

He shudders in Lincoln’s grasp, crying again now that he has him, as if Lincoln is some sort of life raft for him. And Lincoln holds him with equal care and relief, as if he truly thought some harm would befall the boy while he was here.

They speak to one another in whispers like star-crossed lovers, and Aias and I watch on, silently, making our private notes. When they do remember us, it is only because Lincoln looks our way first.

“Thank you for taking care of him while I was out,” he says, looking to me, and I wonder what he would say if he knew I was not here for most of it. “I will not leave him in such a state again.”

“Sure,” Aias replies icily. He is definitely mad, though I do not know if his anger is towards Lincoln or Kalem this time.

“Anytime,” I add, and Lincoln nods only once before he leaves with Kalem in his arms.

I wait until he is gone, again, to close the front door and face the man who continues to torment me with his perfection. Aias gazes back at me, and the anger is still present, but this time, it seems directed at me.

“I—”

“Good night, Malcolm,” he snaps, before he too leaves.

I tell myself there are positives to find here.

He had not tried to kill me or even threatened my life. He called me Malcolm, not some other name I pretended to hate. And he was still here, speaking to me.

It was as good as I could hope for— better in fact, and yet… I still felt as if I’d swallowed lead.

---

Malcolm!!!! God my heart hurts for this sweetheart, he just needs to be loved! 🙁

Thoughtss??????

Thoughts on Malcolm’s thoughts? On what’s coming??? On Aias’ reaction, why do we think he’s mad hehe?

Well, keep reading and leave your thoughts!!!! And please remember to comment