“Are you there?” asked Ariston, using the speaker phone in the car on the way to the airport.
“Yes, sir, we are here,” the man on the other end answered.
“Have you located Léonide?” He poured himself a shot of Ouzo.
“Sir, at this time, he is inflight. We believe they are headed to Washington, D.C.”
“That bitch,” Ariston muttered as he downed the drink, and then poured another. “Hatshepsut and that red dog of hers must already be there.”
“Sir?”
“Never mind. Once they get to wherever they are landing, you find out where he is, you got that?” Ariston commanded.
“Yes sir.”
“I will be there before dawn.” Ariston downed the second drink. “Contact me the minute you know where they are going.”
“Yes sir, I will sir.”
Ariston ended the call, poured one more drink and was able to down it before they pulled up next to the private plane.
* * * * *
Woody walked into the common room at the Barracks and approached his two friends who were standing there, drinking steaming hot coffee.
“Greetings, my friends,” he called out cheerily, placing a hand on each man’s shoulder.
“Hey, Woody.” Sarge grimaced as he took a sip of the strong dark coffee.
“Hi, Woody.” Bronson greeted him with a smile.
“Would either of you care to go to my place and help me oversee the construction of my new dungeon?” he asked with a suggestive leer.
Bronson laughed, obviously quick on the uptake. “I’d love to. Don’t have much of anything else going on.”
Sarge hesitated a moment.
Woody leaned in close to Sarge and whispered loudly, “I have some primo O-negative on hand.” Then he laughed softly.
Sarge looked at him then scowled, his eyes darting to Bronson.
The reporter put his hand on Sarge’s arm. “I get it, David, and I’m not squeamish about the blood.”
Sarge’s expression eased slightly. “Yeah, okay. Sounds like a plan to me.”
Bronson reached over the coffee maker and got two Styrofoam cups. “We can take these with us,” he said as he poured the contents of the mug into the to-go container, then topped it off with fresh coffee.
The ride to Woody’s home was quiet. His friends appeared lost in their own thoughts—not that Woody was any different. Less than ten minutes later they arrived. He unlocked the front door, only to see Marcus dancing wildly, ear buds jammed to each ear. He was wearing blue and black plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a black T-shirt.
Woody stopped his guests at the entry to the living room and pointed toward the dancing man. The three of them watched Marcus who was lost in the music. It took a few minutes, but finally Marcus noticed the three standing there.
He jerked the mini-speakers out of his ears. “Hey ya, guys!” He ran and flung his arms around Woody, kissing him loudly on the lips. “What’cha guys up to? Come to watch all the hunky construction workers in the basement?” Marcus looked at Bronson with alarm. “What the hell happened to you?”
“I ran into a door.” Bronson tried to joke.
Woody threw his head back and laughed, trying to divert the attention away from Bronson. “Marcus, you are incorrigible, but yes, we are here to oversee the work that is being done in the basement.”
“Cool. When they’re done, are we gonna to start having wild kinky sex down there?” Marcus leered.
Woody grabbed Marcus by the cheeks of his ass. “You better believe it!”
“Yeah!” Marcus started dancing around again.
“Shall we go and see what they have managed to get accomplished thus far?” Woody asked the other men.
“Hell yeah.” Marcus bounced down the central hallway.
All three men laughed at the enthusiastic youth. “Lead on, McDuff,” Bronson quoted.
At the bottom of the basement stairs, workers were busy with pneumatic tools, welding machines and brick and mortar. There were already six individual cells nearly finished, each one no more than seven feet long by four feet wide. The few windows were already bricked up, and the walls were steel beams covered by brick. One had a steel door with a small window opening, already in place, while another was being installed.
“Are you Mr. Woodford?” a large bear of a man asked, approaching Woody.
“Indeed I am, and you are?” Woody offered his hand to the construction worker, who seemed to be the one in charge.
“Frank.” The man introduced himself while shaking Woody’s hand.
“This is Mr. Rudan, Marine Lieutenant Farragut and my young friend Marcus Begnoit.”
Frank shook each hand, but looked a little askance at Marcus, who was openly checking him out.
“Mr. Woodford, I’m sorry for the noise, but it can’t be helped,” Frank said apologetically. “Hope it won’t keep you awake all night.”
“Frank, do not concern yourself.” Woody patted the man on the back as they walked down the new corridor. “I do not plan on sleeping until this is finished. Time is of the essence here.”
“Yes sir, I understand.” Frank suddenly yelled at one man who was welding, to watch what he was doing. “I don’t know and don’t care what it is you plan on doing with all this, but I do know how to keep my mouth shut, and that goes for my men, too.”
“Thank you Frank, I do appreciate that.” Woody smiled. He knew they wouldn’t remember a thing when they left the house once the job was done.
“Anyway, there will be twelve cells when we’re done. I don’t get not having a bathroom, but I was told it wasn’t needed.” Frank looked confused. “There’s plenty of soundproofing to the outside, and it will be fairly soundproof on the inside too.”
“Excellent, Frank. Will it all be done by morning?”
“Yes, I believe it will be,” Frank replied. “I would prefer that the mortar have twenty-four hours to cure, but it will be reinforced with the steel, so it should be okay.”
“Then I will leave it in your most capable hands.” Woody complimented the man while patting him on the back once more. “I will retire upstairs with my friends here. If you need me, please do not hesitate to come up and find me.”
“Yes, Mr. Woodford,” Frank acknowledged.
They went back upstairs.
“David, would you help me get refreshments?” Woody asked, letting Bronson and Marcus continue on into the living room. He reached into a small apartment sized refrigerator under a counter and produced a bag of blood. “See—O-negative, my personal favorite,” Woody exclaimed, his hand on his chest.
“Umm, thanks I guess.” Sarge gazed contemplatively at the plastic bag full of blood. “I have…well, I’ve never done this.”
“Ahhh, I see.” Woody opened a cabinet and got out a tall tumbler. He took the blood back from Sarge, pulled the plastic stopper off and filled the glass, almost emptying the bag. He handed it to Sarge. “Give it a few minutes to at least come up to room temperature then. It takes a little getting used to when it is not body temp.”
Sarge’s nose curled up a bit in disgust.
Woody laughed. “Yes, I know, but there are times when they do come in quite handy. And we know it will be a few days before Bronson will be up to donating again.”
“I don’t want to make that a regular thing with Bronson. I don’t want him to be my food supply.”
Woody nodded his understanding. He had been there before and understood completely.
* * * * * * * * * *
In the living room Marcus threw his arms around Bronson’s neck, surprising him.
“You’re hot.” Marcus rubbed his crotch against Bronson’s.
Bronson pushed Marcus away, “Wow, you don’t hold back much, do you?”
“Why should I?” Marcus cocked his head to one side, a slight smile on his full lips. “And the black eye and bruises make you dangerous looking! Grrrr.”
“Oh really now?” Brandon smiled. He liked Marcus. His love of life was infectious. “Aren’t you with Woody, though?”
“Of course I’m with Woody.” Marcus went to the bar in the dining room. “Drink?”
“Um, yeah…sure,” Bronson joined Marcus. “Scotch.”
“Ice?”
“No, straight.”
“Honey, there ain’t nothing straight in this house,” Marcus joked, laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Sarge asked as he entered the room from the kitchen, Woody right behind him.
“This silly man thought he was going to get something straight here.” Marcus sniggered before handing Bronson a heftily poured scotch.
Woody chuckled at the over-the-top gay joke. “Come, let’s sit down, relax and enjoy our drinks.” Woody poured himself a brandy. “On a more serious note,” he began as Marcus cuddled up in his lap, “Marcus, I need for you to go and spend a few nights with your sister.”
“What?” Marcus was clearly surprised. “But why?”
“There are going to be some very dangerous vampires arriving in the morning, and I would rather you not be in the house while they are here.”
Marcus’s face turned serious. “Then I should stay right here if they are that dangerous.”
“No, Marcus,” Woody said. “I am afraid that I must insist. I do not want you to be in any kind of danger.”
“But Woody,” Marcus started to object.
Woody cut off the man sitting in his lap before he could continue. “This is not up for discussion, Marcus. I want you safe.”
“Think of it like this,” Bronson interrupted. “He loves you enough to want to make sure you live to see another day.”
When it was put to Marcus that way, he didn’t say anything. It didn’t keep him from pouting, but he was no longer fighting about it.
“Well put, Bronson,” Woody said.
“That’s my baby.” Sarge kissed Bronson’s cheek and then took his hand. “Ever the peace maker, the problem solver.”
“So, what’s the plan then?” Marcus asked as he swallowed the rest of whatever it was he was drinking.
“The plan is to stay put while the construction takes place downstairs,” Woody said.
Marcus got up, snatched Bronson’s glass from his hand and returned to the bar. “Sounds like a party to me,” he smiled on his return, handing the refilled glass to Bronson.
“Don’t you need to pack anything?” Woody scowled at the young man.
“Woody, it will take me all of two minutes to pack a gym bag.” Marcus frowned and then stuck his tongue out at Woody. He sat his drink down before he went over to a cabinet. He turned on the sleek, expensive looking stereo. Instantly, the room was filled with subdued club music, the thud and bump of it oozing sexuality.
Woody watched, plainly amused as his young housemate danced around the living room, his dick flopping around in his flannel pants. “Might want to watch yourself, Marcus. You might hurt yourself with all that gyrating you’re doing.”
Marcus slunk over to Bronson and grabbed his hand. “Come on, dance with me.”
“I’ll sit this one out, thank you.” Bronson laughed at Marcus as he tried to pull him up from the sofa.
“Fine, then.” Marcus smirked and then pulled his shirt up seductively, revealing his bare midriff and the black hair that trailed down from his navel then disappeared into the top of his pajama bottoms.
The three men watched Marcus as he slowly stripped off his shirt and then threw it at Woody, smiling mischievously.
“Marcus, what do you think you are doing?” Woody’s eyes were slits.
“Having a little fun is all.” Marcus thrust his hips seductively at Woody, his flannel-covered dick flopping toward the vampire.
“I see that you are.” Woody smiled.
Bronson noticed that Sarge was mesmerized by Marcus’s little performance. He glanced into the Marine’s lap and noticed it seemed to be a little fuller than usual. Bronson looked back to Marcus as he bumped and thrust his hips about the room. He decided that joining him might not be such a bad idea after all.
Standing up, he minced his steps, matching Marcus’s moves as he approached the boy. Slowly, he pulled the shirt-tail of his Chamois cloth shirt from his jeans. Marcus grinned widely as he reached up and started to unbutton the soft shirt, with a sideways glance at Sarge under his eyelashes. When he had the shirt undone, he pushed it off Bronson’s shoulders and let the shirt drop, revealing his white undershirt.
Pulling him close, Bronson ground his hips into Marcus’s. He glanced up to see Sarge’s response. Bronson almost laughed at what he saw—a cross between total lust and jealousy. Bronson could live with that.
It wasn’t long before Marcus had Bronson’s undershirt halfway up his torso, his abdomen exposed, and his lightly furred tummy in full view. In one quick movement, Marcus whipped the shirt off and let it join the other already on the floor.
“Cool ink, man,” Marcus said admiringly, tracing one of the designs around Bronson’s nipple.
“Thanks.” Bronson accepted the compliment.
They both looked towards the sofa as Sarge growled softly while adjusting the fullness in his crotch.
Woody sat there with a bemused look, watching the entertainment, glancing between the dancing human men and the growling Master Sergeant.
Time to go for the gold. Bronson pushed Marcus’s pajama bottoms just under the cheeks of his ass. The mocha-colored globes flexed as Marcus continued to move his hips. The flannel slid slowly to the floor, leaving Marcus dancing seductively, stark naked—and making Sarge growl even louder.
The look on his face is priceless, Bronson thought. He knew Sarge wouldn’t be able to contain himself much longer, judging by the looks he was getting.
Marcus undid Bronson’s belt while slowly licking his nipple.. By the time he’d lowered Bronson’s zipper, Marcus’s dick had hardened enough to stand away from his body, his dark pubic bush framing the uncut dark-skinned cock.
Sarge growled louder and smashed his face with the palms of his hands.
Bronson grinned. He knew it wouldn’t be long before Sarge was up from the sofa and coming for him.
Marcus took a page from Bronson’s playbook. He pushed Bronson’s jeans just below his ass, barely keeping his front covered, the jeans staying up with the help of his semi-hard dick. This time Sarge moaned.
Woody chuckled at the tormented man sitting on the sofa. Bronson moved Marcus and himself around, just enough so Sarge could get a better three-quarter view of his ass, and that was all it took.
Sarge bounded from the sofa and wrapped his arms around Bronson. Sarge smashed Bronson’s mouth to his, holding his head to gain more leverage while one hand cupped one of Bronson’s firm ass cheeks.
* * * * * * * * * *
“Why sure, you’re more than welcome to cut in.” Marcus acted put out but was clearly trying his best not to laugh.
“Ahh, come here, cupcake.” Woody pulled the left-out youth into his arms, comforting him.
“Damn, but they are hot together,” Marcus commented as he let himself be wrapped in Woody’s arms.
“Yes, they are.” Woody smiled at his friends, who were paying him and Marcus no mind.
Marcus looked at Woody and stood back up. “You’ve already slept with them, haven’t you?”
“Just the once.”
“And you didn’t share?” Marcus asked indignantly.
“It just happened, little one.” Woody pulled Marcus back into his arms. “And it wasn’t here.”
Marcus huffed as he slowly began unbuttoning Woody’s black shirt. “You’re way over dressed.” Marcus’s voice was muffled as he placed little kisses to the newly exposed skin, crawling back onto Woody’s lap.
It didn’t take long before Woody’s shirt was keeping Bronson’s shirt and undershirt company on the floor.
Marcus looked into Woody’s eyes. “I need you, Woody. I want you inside me.” Marcus’s voice was husky with need.
Woody lifted his eyebrows and smirked. “Really now.”
“Don’t tease me, Woody,” Marcus said sincerely. “I love you, Woody. I want you.”
“I love you too, cupcake.” Woody smiled genuinely.
“Then let’s go,” Marcus whispered into Woody’s neck as he licked the sensitive skin. “Let’s take them with us. We’ll go to the play room.”
“All right, my sweet.” Woody was still smiling. “But you must leave before morning, understand?”
Marcus huffed, but nodded that he would.
The two separated. Woody addressed Sarge and Bronson. “Gentlemen? If you’d care to follow me?” The two men released each other from their impassioned kissing. Woody took Bronson’s hand and led him up the stairs, while Marcus took Sarge’s. Woody led the way to the third floor, then opened a small door to reveal a narrow, steep staircase that went up to the attic.
Once up there, Woody’s guests glanced at their surroundings.
* * * * * * * * * *
“Whoa,” Bronson whooshed out before falling silent as he took in the sight.
“You like?” Woody asked.
“It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before,” Bronson said in a tone of wonder.
“Marcus did it,” Woody informed him.
“The whole floor is like a mattress.” Bronson walked on the cushioned floor that was covered in what looked like black leather.
“Wow.” Bronson heard behind him when Sarge entered the room, obviously having had the same impression.
“What I said,” Bronson said, looking at the still-dressed Marine.
Marcus stood by, watching Sarge and Bronson’s reactions, clearly proud of his work. He blurted out, “It’s an orgy room!”
“I see that.” Sarge chuckled softly.
“And you are way over dressed,” Bronson said hoarsely as he started to unbutton the vampire’s shirt.
Sarge toed off his sneakers, then froze. “Are you up for this?” he whispered, his voice full of concern.
“I think so.” Bronson appreciated the man’s concern for him. “I don’t think I can get fucked right now, but I sure can do everything else.” He teased Sarge by licking his lips.
“Yeah, well if the front works, I’m good to go.” Sarge hurriedly stripped off the rest of his clothes.
Marcus was already on his knees, pushing off Woody’s pants and taking his dick in his mouth.
Mimicking Marcus, Bronson dropped to his knees and took as much of Sarge’s thick, hard dick into his mouth as he could, cupping his low-hanging hairy balls.
“Ahhh.” Sarge moaned, holding Bronson’s head with both hands.
Out of the corner of his eye, Bronson watched Marcus, marveling at his beautiful lips wrapped around Woody’s large piece of meat.
He and Marcus continued to service the two vampires. Soon Woody had his hand tangled in Marcus’s curly hair, hips thrusting, head tilted back and grunting loudly. Bronson saw Marcus’s throat constrict as he swallowed the cum, a small drop leaking out from the corner of his mouth.
Woody shuddered as he withdrew his still very hard dick from the reddened lips. Marcus licked his lips, his tongue darting out to captured the spunk that had managed to escape.
“You are getting too good at that, Marcus,” Woody said, his breath heaving.
Bronson tickled the underside of Sarge’s now drawn up balls, which rewarded him with a gushing flow of cool cum. Gulping it all down, Bronson held the still granite hard cock, savoring Sarge’s taste. His own dick was so hard it was almost painful.
Marcus beamed at Bronson. “Good thing about having a vampire as a boyfriend is they have the staying power of a bull.”
Bronson looked up at Sarge’s relaxed face. “Is that true?”
Woody answered for him. "Yes. We do tend to have a high libido. We can go several rounds without stopping, fortunately or unfortunately, depending how you look at it.’
“And their dicks keep growing!” Marcus waggled his eyebrows humorously.
“Really?” Bronson asked, surprised.
“Yes.” Woody smiled, broadly swinging his well-above-average dick in front of Marcus’s face for emphasis. “The older we get the bigger it grows. When I was a human I was, let’s say, below average.”
Bronson looked at Sarge. “What about you?”
Sarge looked a little uncomfortable suddenly. “I was…well…”
“He was pretty well hung already,” Marcus said, laughing.
Still waiting for an answer from him, Bronson stared at Sarge.
“Yeah, well I was a little more than average, I guess,” Sarge finally admitted.
“So your dick is going to continue to grow?” Bronson looked from Sarge’s face to the big dick in front of him.
“Undeniably so.” Woody laughed. “By the end of this century, he may very well be as big as a stallion!”
“Christ-almighty,” Bronson wheezed.
“You should see Mathghamhain,” Woody said as he sat down next to Marcus on the cushioned floor. “He can only fuck a horse or another vampire, and they might not exactly enjoy it.” He held his hands up, showing a length of two feet.
“You have got to be kidding me.” Bronson was alarmed.
“I am not,” Woody laughed as he used his hands to describe an approximate circumference of enormous proportions. “Of course, our old friend is over eleven-hundred years old, so I do not think you have much to worry about.” Woody reclined, his still stiff member resting on his stomach.
Sarge lay between Woody and Bronson. “You would be in the same boat as me if you were turned.” He smirked at Bronson as he reached for his hard dick, sticking straight up from his lap.
Laughing, Woody agreed.
“Yeah, I’d like to have that sausage stuffed inside me,” Marcus commented as he started to crawl towards Bronson.
“Back off, kid,” Sarge growled, “me first.”
“Okay, okay,” Marcus held up his hands in deference to Sarge. Leaning backwards, he reached over to a short table and picked up a bottle of lube. He tossed it to Sarge. “Go for it.”
Sarge caught the bottle, grinning snidely. He pushed Bronson down on his back. Bronson was caught off guard. He opened his eyes wide as Sarge straddled his body.
“Do I get a say in this?” he teased, finally finding his voice.
Sarge growled. “No!”
“Anyone ever tell you that you sound like a rabid bear sometimes?” Bronson teased.
“Grrrr.” Sarge slicked Bronson’s almost purple cock, causing him to moan.
Bronson groaned loudly as Sarge sank down onto his dick. Sarge also moaned when he had all of Bronson buried deep inside him. A moment passed before he started gyrating his hips, rotating the dick in his ass.
Marcus stood, straddling Bronson also. He fed Sarge his own stiff dick. The view made Bronson’s dick jump as he watched the dark-skinned cock slide in and out of Sarge’s mouth. Bronson thrust his hips up, crushing his pubic hair around Sarge’s stretched hole.
Sarge became more and more animated as he bounced on Bronson’s dick, keeping the same tempo on Marcus’s dick. Marcus and Bronson both moaned low. Not to be left out, Woody stood behind Marcus, his dick slick. He pushed Marcus over slightly, and then slowly slid into him.
Bronson had a ringside seat, watching Woody’s dark pink dick slide into Marcus’s much darker, wrinkled anal ring, as Sarge continued to grind down on his cock. Bronson breathed heavily, concentrating hard on not coming as he watched the unbelievable scene he was witnessing. Never had he been so turned on as he watched his own dick pistoning into Sarge, Sarge sucking and slurping Marcus’s hard dick, while Woody was pounding away at Marcus’s ass.
Bronson was having trouble holding it together. He tried to detach himself mentally but it was pointless. Grasping Sarge’s thick, hairy thighs, he thrust up and began to pump his sperm erratically into the vampire.
Apparently, Marcus wasn’t able to hold off either as he pumped his hot load into Sarge’s receptive mouth. The muscles twitching in Marcus’s ass must have proven too much for Woody as he roared, pushing his cream deep into the young man’s bowels.
Sarge gripped his own dick and with only a few strokes, bellowed like a bull as he pumped out copious amounts of pink-tinged cream all over Bronson’s chest.
All four were breathing raggedly from the workout. Woody withdrew his cock from Marcus, a thin stream of spooge trailing down the inside of Marcus’s leg. Bronson sat up and buried his face in the boy’s ass, licking and sucking the now warm cream out of the boy.
Exhausted, Bronson fell backwards. Noises of contentment resounded in the quiet room.
“Wow, that was great.” Bronson sighed, his eyes closed. He could feel his own cum starting to pool around the base of his dick, still inside Sarge.
“You can say that again,” the big man whispered as he leaned over, brushing his lips against Bronson’s.
Bronson turned his head and saw Marcus and Woody lying next to him in a warm embrace as Marcus kissed his vampire.
Finally, Sarge disengaged himself from Bronson. Sarge grabbed a towel from a stack of them and mopped up the thick cream that coated Bronson’s chest. He then lay next to Bronson, pulling him close and kissing him again.
Minutes passed before Woody stood, pulling Marcus with him. “Okay, you two,” he said, addressing Marcus and Bronson, and holding his hand out to help Bronson up. “You need to get some rest.”
“Aw dad,” Marcus whined, teasing Woody.
Woody smacked smartly Marcus on the ass.
“Ow!” Marcus yelped, his hands covering the handprint left on his butt.
Sarge also stood, helping Bronson to his feet. He looked warmly at Bronson. “You especially need to get some rest.”
Bronson took his cue from Marcus. “Ah dad.” He didn’t get quite the same reaction. Sarge scowled. Bronson nodded as he stifled a yawn. “Yeah, I am pretty beat,” he admitted.
“Come then,” Woody said as he pushed Marcus out the door. “The two of you can get a little sleep before we need to get you out of here.”
On the second-floor Woody opened a door to a bedroom. “In, you two.” He held the blankets back on the bed.
Each vampire kissed both men and then they left the room.
Marcus turned to Bronson in the dark room. “You’re cool. I like you.”
“Yeah, I like you too,” Bronson said as he pulled the warm body closer to his.
Marcus curled up like a cat next to him, his hand resting on Bronson’s chest. The last thing Bronson remembered was Marcus’s warm tongue licking his nipple.