6. Dreams of Stabbing and/or Being Stabbed

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He was trapped and no one was coming to save him.

Frank thrashed about violently, the chains that bound his wrists making a low, jingling sound. It echoed and reverberated about the dark basement. The cold stone floor beneath him was wet; he could feel his shirt getting soaked. He tried to call out, but no sound escaped from his chapped lips.

You're dreaming, he told himself in his head.

But that didn't make things any less scary.

Frank breathed a dry, noiseless scream as he felt something cold and sharp slice into his head. His hot, sticky blood trickled down his face, pooling in his mouth and on the floor behind him. He could hear thousands of people screaming, some of the voices more recognisable than others.

"Ray," Frank spluttered, the metallic blood foaming in his mouth from his choking. He couldn't fucking breathe; that was half the problem. There was some unseen, immense pressure sitting on his chest, gripping and squeezing at his throat. Frank groaned, wheezing. He heard the distinct sound of a light switch being flipped.

And then all the bad things went away.

Frank sat up, wiping blood from his face. His hands were free, he could breathe again, and the basement didn't seem nearly as frightening as it was when it had been shrouded in darkness. He gazed up to the silhouette standing at the bottom of the stairs, the man who had turned on the lights for him, who'd made all the nightmares disappear. Frank's eyes widened with a concoction of fear and gratitude.

"Gerard?"

The man simply nodded, extending a cold, pale hand. Frank took it and Gerard smiled, leading him up the rickety steps to a warmer, more well-lit room. Frank gazed about the place, recognising it as the vampire's living room. He didn't feel afraid as he followed Gerard up the grand staircase to the guest bathroom. Without saying a word, the taller man invited Frank to sit on the bathroom bench. Gerard retrieved a washcloth from the cupboard, gently dabbing at the slice in Frank's head until the wound had virtually disappeared.

"Thank you," Frank breathed. Gerard simply smiled back. He reached out to brush Frank's cheek with his thumb, wiping away a tiny blood stain that he'd missed before. Frank watched as Gerard brought his thumb to his mouth, licking the metallic fluid off as if he'd just finished eating something with strawberry jam on it. Gerard leaned in slightly, and Frank felt his rigid body relax. He swayed closer to the vampire, feeling his cold embrace. Gerard scooped Frank up in his arms, carrying him gently to the bedroom. Frank sank into the mattress as Gerard laid him down.

"Will you stay with me?" Frank whispered.

"Of course," Gerard said warmly, tucking a strand of Frank's dark hair behind his ear. Frank felt the pit of his stomach twist into knots, his chest growing tight again.

And then he kissed Gerard.

The vampire didn't need another reason to hesitate. Frank felt Gerard's strong arms snake around his waist, pulling him on top of the man's cold, marble-like body. He straddled Gerard, bending down to kiss him again.

What ensued felt hazy, disorienting, even. Frank's unconscious mind couldn't focus on one scene, so his dream kept switching up like a tape that had been chopped up and sticky-taped back together. He heard the sound of fabric rubbing together, a zipper being painstakingly undone. He felt his own arms shrug out of his damp shirt. His skin prickled in anticipation as Gerard's fingers slowly traced the curve of his hip bones. Frank hissed as he felt Gerard slide inside of him.

Without warning, Frank was seized by reality. He felt his body jolt upward as he awoke, the vivid tapestry of his dream fading and giving way to the familiar contours of his room. Frank groaned, scratching his head. His cock was aching. Did he seriously just have a wet dream about Gerard, the vampire that drank his blood? Frank sat up in bed, shimmying out of his pyjama bottoms. He wrapped a hand around his length and relieved himself, completing the act quickly since he wanted to go back to bed. He staggered to the bathroom to wash his hands before flopping back into bed on his stomach, slipping into a peaceful, dreamless slumber. 

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