[Dracula] "Kept Man" (PG-13)
Author's Note: Written for comment_fic's "Dracula; Jonathan/any ; Jonathan did some things while trapped in Dracula's castle that he will never tell Mina about"
There were many things that Harker could not tell Mina about, regarding his sojourn in Transylvania. He could barely tell her about the night when Dracula’s brides appeared before him, sniffing at him and licking their lips hungrily. He could barely even write about the incident, in his journal.
But he could not tell her about what happened on the following evening. He could not tell her about how he lost a battle with his will, as something compelled him to go in search of the same spot where the brides had approached him, the same oriental divan where he had sunk down and where they had stooped over him like hawks on a rabbit. He sank down on the pillows again, his eyes watching the shadow for movement. Nothing approached for what seemed like hours. His eyelids slid shut as he lost the battle with sleep.
He felt the air change and an aroma like incense flooded his nostrils. He wanted to sit up, but he felt something hold him down. He opened his eyes, looking up into a man's pale, sensuous face, his long, wavy black hair falling over Harker's in a curtain. He tried to pull away, but the man laid a finger on his lips.
"Shh, rest. You will need to take your rest, Mister Harker, You will need to rest while you can," the pale man murmured. And with that, the fiend pushed him onto the pillows, gently, but with a strength that brooked no contest. To struggle would be futile: behind that gentleness, he felt the strength of a tiger and the hunger of one.
The man leaned over him again and a sharp pain in Harker's neck stabbed through his flesh. Harker's body arched under the fiend, but the fiend did not break his hold.
The pain diminished, and a strange warmth diffused Harker's form. His head swam and he would have swooned from the waves of pleasure which washed over his body.
He could have lain there for hours, in that dark ecstasy, his ears singing, red and black specks dancing behind his eyelids. At length, his head cleared and he found that he lay alone in his own room. He sat up, but his head swam, obliging him to lay down once again. Raising his hand to the side of his neck, he felt two small puncture wounds in the flesh.
On a low table, a meal lay spread, clearly left for his refreshment when he awakened. If he had ever awakened from his dark swoon.
It was clear what he was now, a mere food animal to be tended and fed well to supply its master.
There were many things that Harker could not tell Mina about, regarding his sojourn in Transylvania. He could barely tell her about the night when Dracula’s brides appeared before him, sniffing at him and licking their lips hungrily. He could barely even write about the incident, in his journal.
But he could not tell her about what happened on the following evening. He could not tell her about how he lost a battle with his will, as something compelled him to go in search of the same spot where the brides had approached him, the same oriental divan where he had sunk down and where they had stooped over him like hawks on a rabbit. He sank down on the pillows again, his eyes watching the shadow for movement. Nothing approached for what seemed like hours. His eyelids slid shut as he lost the battle with sleep.
He felt the air change and an aroma like incense flooded his nostrils. He wanted to sit up, but he felt something hold him down. He opened his eyes, looking up into a man's pale, sensuous face, his long, wavy black hair falling over Harker's in a curtain. He tried to pull away, but the man laid a finger on his lips.
"Shh, rest. You will need to take your rest, Mister Harker, You will need to rest while you can," the pale man murmured. And with that, the fiend pushed him onto the pillows, gently, but with a strength that brooked no contest. To struggle would be futile: behind that gentleness, he felt the strength of a tiger and the hunger of one.
The man leaned over him again and a sharp pain in Harker's neck stabbed through his flesh. Harker's body arched under the fiend, but the fiend did not break his hold.
The pain diminished, and a strange warmth diffused Harker's form. His head swam and he would have swooned from the waves of pleasure which washed over his body.
He could have lain there for hours, in that dark ecstasy, his ears singing, red and black specks dancing behind his eyelids. At length, his head cleared and he found that he lay alone in his own room. He sat up, but his head swam, obliging him to lay down once again. Raising his hand to the side of his neck, he felt two small puncture wounds in the flesh.
On a low table, a meal lay spread, clearly left for his refreshment when he awakened. If he had ever awakened from his dark swoon.
It was clear what he was now, a mere food animal to be tended and fed well to supply its master.