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Upon his initial invitation, Dimitry was fired up- full of life and determination to stop the cruel and uncaring Strahd from tormenting his countrymen and newfound friends once and for all. The massive, mazelike castle, though familiar from tales, trumped any and all expectations in its sheer presence and grandeur; bleeding mournful, grotesque wealth from every inch of its interior, much like its master…
Count Strahd von Zarovich: the devil himself, a beast in the shape of a man- he exudes such a powerful, unwavering energy that candles around him feel as though they grow cold to hide from his piercing gaze. Every stride could become a pounce, every flick could break you, and every word could take your soul.
It should come as no surprise that the softhearted Vistana, one who appreciates both beauty and power, would be caught defenseless for a fraction of a moment. The wine- he should have known the fiend would resort to cruel, underhanded tricks such as poisoning a Vistana’s wine.
Before he could convey his distress to his companions, his weakened, sluggish form watched as their bodies slumped into their seats, the sound of cutlery clattering to the floor barely penetrating his murky mind. Gazing from underneath his long, ebony lashes, Dimitry no longer saw the Count sat at the head of the table, but rather strolling beside him. A cold, firm hand grazed through the thin fabric of the shash covering his revealed chest, and a satisfied hum lulls the last of his consciousness into a cold, sublime slumber.
The Vistana is awoken by sensation before anything else. A cool breeze caressing his naked body. The intricately embroidered cushion of a nobleman’s seat pressing patterns into his exposed flesh as he lay limp with his hands gently dangling from either side of their respective arm rests.
His lips part- the taste of poisoned wine still lingering in his breath- gently inhaling and exhaling the musty, perfumed air, but unable to make a sound louder than a grunted sigh as his jaw stays relaxed, but unmoving. His body is heavy, as if fastened to the chair, but it lays there unrestrained by rope or chain, with a slow, heaving chest.
It isn’t until there’s a sound of shifting clothes that Dimitry’s made aware of the other presence in the room. A familiar hum resonates from the figure as he adjusts his seating to better view his defenseless prey.
“You’re coming to, aren’t you little magpie?” the Count teases at the Vistana, who stirs with little avail. “Your journey must have been so taxing- you seemed to welcome slumber with open arms.”
Another grunted breath escapes the helpless human’s lax, reclined form. Through the fog in his mind, he’s aware that he should be afraid. He recalls the dread of their first encounters, and even vaguely comprehends the dire situation he finds himself succumbed to, but at no point does he explicitly feel fear. It’s as if his body is much too relaxed to experience fear, and instead lays there with a vague, but disregarded sense of dread.
“It feels nice, doesn’t it? Not a care in the world…” the vampire trails off, his coat slipping from the silk cushion of his chair as he stands to his full height.
Dimitry’s eyebrow twitches as the Count approaches, the sound of his slow, striding footsteps against the cold, wooden floor awaking an instinctual urge to run- to resist. The muscles in his resting arms tense as he weakly fights for his body’s control.
“You’re enjoying this.”
The moment Strahd’s words pass his lips, the Vistana’s form falls slack in his seat, his breath returning to its rhythmic, even breathing, coupled with a comforting flutter in his chest.
“Rather cruel of Madam Eva to keep such a fine specimen from me. I was afraid I’d already missed your prime.”
Gentle, decisive fingers caress up Dimitry’s broad, tanned chest from behind, trailing along his exposed collarbone and up his warm, defenseless neck. “But it seems I was just in time, hn?” he hums, dragging possessive strokes up the nape of his neck, parting the sea of ebony hair to trace mindless patterns into his sensitive scalp.
The quiet, trembling breaths of the entranced Vistana leaves an intrigued, but satisfied grin on the Count’s sharp features. “You mustn’t worry, magpie. I’ll take good care of you.”
Strahd’s well-kept, but dangerously sharp claws graze through his victim’s hairline and down his lax, unflinching face. Dimitry’s eyelids flutter absentmindedly, his once keen and animated eyes now dull and glassy as he stares into the velvet darkness before him. The fingers stroke along his mustache, tickling his upper lip, and travel down to the beard lining his jawline, brushing through the longer hairs on his chin. Dimitry makes another soft noise, his head making the smallest of movements as he leans it back, easing the fingers’ path to his throat; this gets a chuckle out of the acquisitive Count.
“Like a dog,” he mutters, one hand roaming down his exposed throat, his fingers spreading as they reach his broad, hair-speckled chest, barely able to cover a single pectoral with his palm, “so ignorantly eager for my affection.” A hand massages the tender muscle underneath it, squeezing it with no resistance, the metal dangling from the Vistana’s nipples growing colder as it touches the Count’s inhuman skin.
“You must be popular, having such a lewd body so prominently on display.” The vampire hums, rolling Dimitry’s pierced bud between his fingers. “I wonder how many hands have roamed your skin; how many faded marks linger in your flesh…” Strahd sighs, his chest pressing against the back of Dimitry’s chair, the side of his chiseled, handsome face lingering so close that the Vistana can feel his presence by the tips of his beard hairs. “I assure you, there are many more to come.”
With a final tug on the human’s piercing, Strahd withdraws from his position, staring at the nude form of the captured Vistana from a new angle- whose chest shudders, still tingling from the Count’s touch, his nipple dully throbbing.
Pleasure… A vague sense of pleasure washes over Dimitry’s defenseless form, drowning out the previous feeling of unease. Although it’s unlikely that his dreamy, thoughtless mind registered any of the Count’s musings, there’s something about his words- something about Dimitry’s state that’s lowering his every mental defense, leaving him open to be used however the devil desires.
Strahd mutters something under his breath, his hushed words only audible due to the deafening silence of the lightless room. The limp Vistana feels a tingling sensation envelop his body- and it isn’t until his head’s fallen back and the tips of his long mane graze the seat of his chair that he registers that he’s floating, only vaguely sensing his movements from gravity’s gentle tug on the mass of hair cascading from his scalp.
There’s a swift sound of moving fabric before faint, warm lights of freshly-lit candles illuminate in the corners of Dimitry’s blurred vision. His eyelids flutter as his body is effortlessly levitated across the room, the dim, glowing flames rushing past his unfocused view. Another hum resonates from the Count, who stares at the man’s form inquisitively, appreciating how the light and shadow accentuate his broad, toned form; the individual muscles in his abdomen, the glistening gold of the piercings through his nostrils, ears, bottom lip, and nipples, and the firm but supple statuesque shape of his thick, inviting thighs; in between which lies a soft, defenseless labia.
The vampire delicately approaches his floating prey, hung limply in the air with nary a thought in his muddled mind. Dimitry feels his cold hands graze his inner thighs- the sudden sensation feeling like a bright light breaking through fog, as the Count nestles his face between them, leaving gentle, icy kisses along his exposed skin.
“Even without moving, you manage to seduce me.” He whispers against the pillowy flesh, his lips growing warmer from contact.
A low, trembling breath escapes the Vistana’s lungs- his head dulled and unfocused, but his body growing hyper aware of every touch the Count graces him with. Every kiss leading closer to his manhood, which lays open and available, and ever so close to Strahd’s emboldened affection; so close that he can feel his icy exhales graze his exposed cunt with labored breaths. It isn’t long before the vampire discards his need for restraint, and plunges his hungry lips into Dimitry’s sex.
His lapping is slow, but firm- exploring and savoring every inch of the Vistana’s cunt as the entranced man twitches around him. Among the victim’s hitched breaths, Strahd can hear the beginnings of moans as he takes his time with his thorough inspection, the bridge of his nose rubbing against Dimitry’s vulnerable clit. The vampire’s fingers press into his thighs, his nails threatening to claw his sensitive flesh, but taking care to leave his meal unmarked (for now).
The Count hums, thrusting his tongue in and out as his victim whimpers openly, with no thought to close his mouth. The muscles in his lower body tense and tremble instinctively, his thighs flexing under the vampire’s grip.
What was once a dense fog of uncertain relaxation has suddenly culminated into a sea of sensation; his mind far too distracted by the pleasure around him- the pleasure in him- and all he can do is react, which he only vaguely registers. Good… It feels so good. Every movement sends trembles down his spine, his cunt dripping with anticipation as every crevice is caressed and serviced with a hungry vigor incomparable to his experiences in the past. A groan- louder this time, escapes the Vistana’s lips, causing another pleasurable, vibrating hum from the Count between his legs.
“Mm, you’re being so good for me, little magpie.” Wet kisses press against his sensitive clit. “Feels good when you’re under my command…” The entranced Vistana can only moan in response, his hips twitching needily.
Strahd chuckles. “You want more?” He teases, tracing circles into his thighs. “Such a greedy thing- so hungry for pleasure that you don’t even know what you’re asking for anymore.”
There’s a beat of silence. Dimitry vaguely hears his breath hitch as the Count plants another kiss on his thigh before a sharp, piercing pain shoots through his body. The Vistana yelps in pain, his head thrashing pathetically before lolling back, the tips of his hair nearly touching the floor.
A warmed, tender tongue grazes the fresh puncture wound, a soft sound of slurping catching Dimitry’s rattled attention- both out of shock and increasing titillation due to the sounds’ similarity to the Count’s sensual inspection, and done so with newfound vigor. It’s then that Dimitry feels hot; the heat starting at the bite and crawling up his legs, enveloping his hips, and spreading throughout his entire body. His nipples stiffen, sweat beads on his brow, and his dry lips part wider as he gasps for air. His eyes are open, pupils dilated, staring at the pooled candle light behind him.
“Delicious.” The vampire purrs, running a hand along the Vistana’s trembling stomach, opening and closing it as he caresses it with circling fingers. “You can hardly imagine how long I’ve waited for a taste as vibrant as your’s…”
Brief, nearly urgent kisses trail down his abdomen before the Count waves his hand, the wind grazing Dimitry’s dampened body as he’s levitated onto a soft, large surface- which feels cold and sticky against the Vistana’s sweating back. Strahd’s silhouetted form towers over his helpless body, surrounded by a hellish halo of golden light. Dimitry’s sea of mahogany curls blanket the covers, reflecting the dim candle light, much like his glassy, golden eyes that struggle to stare up at his captor before lulling out of focus.