The Vampire Prince's Toxic Consort (BL)

On the day of the departure, Lucius was on edge and expecting anything to suddenly go horribly wrong at any minute until the moment their flight took off. He exhaled in relief and slumped into the seat, never having thought that one day he would be happy on a plane.

It felt like they were leaving all the shit behind, and they could finally breathe again.

Dorian saw the artless relaxation mingled with a fresh excitement on Lucius’s face and wondered how someone could simultaneously be so complicated and ingenious. He asked, “Have you been to Esmore before?”

“Of course not. It is illegal for Anthorian to go to any vampire-friendly countries.”

“I think you will like it there. It is an artistic city.”

“Yes! I’ve always wanted to go to The Grand Athinis Gallery! Can we go? Do we have time?”

“We are on our honeymoon.” Dorian curled his lip slightly, “we have all the time in the world.”

Lucius grinned and turned around to Florian in the back seat, “I can’t believe we are going to a human country. Aren’t you excited?”

Florian bowed his head and answered in the formal and polite tone he often used when they were not alone, “I am very looking forward to it, Your Highness.”

Esmore was nine hours away from Emberton, one of the biggest cities of Aelis, one of the few multi-sapient-species countries. Humans, vampires and werewolves reached a delicate but stable harmony in these nations, and though inter-species hatred and violence still existed, some level of co-dependency was established.

Humans were still the majority in Esmore, but most were not believers, and a unique vampire-worshiping culture was prevalent. Many people saw being bitten by an immortal and superior being as an honor. And if one was special enough, an apostle might give them their blood, sharing immortality with them.

More conservative countries like Anthor deemed people in Esmore to be depraved and licentious sinners and traitors, but even they couldn’t deny the appeal of arts, philosophies, and entertainment from these more liberal cultures.

To Lucius’s astonishment, Dorian was a well-worshiped celebrity here. The moment the cabin door was open, a sea of flashlights, cheer of excitement, and various flashy, love-expressing banners engulfed them. Some fan girls and boys screamed so loud that Lucius almost felt like being attacked by some sort of acoustic weapon.

“What the...” The Crown Prince Consort was intimidated by such fanaticism and hesitated for some seconds before the door. He had seen some crazy fans in those idol concerts but never expected to witness his kind showing the same enthusiasm toward a vampire.

Dorian placed an arm around Lucius’s waist and took him out of the door to stand on the top of the stairs, receiving the oration like a king while whispering, “don’t worry, I won’t let them eat you.”

“Is this some sort of cult?“Lucius mumbled incredulously. He couldn’t fathom that some humans loved vampires to such an extent.

“Perhaps. Don’t I possess the charisma for a cult leader?” Dorian glanced at him with a subtle smugness and led him downstairs, holding his hand. And somehow, Lucius felt the hand-holding was not purely for the show this time.

They stayed in a stately resort, and for their privacy, half of the resort was closed to the public. While the fans were gathering outside, hoping to glimpse the winner of “the sexiest male vampire” for the past three years, the elites of Aslani family were also eagerly anticipating Dorian to meet with them and restore the lost family glory.

However, little did they know Dorian and Lucius didn’t really stay in that hotel. They only reserved half of the suits as a facade to divert people’s attention. They stayed in a much smaller but stylish hot spring resort’s honeymoon suite. Florian and their bodyguards posed as regular customers and occupied every room adjacent to theirs.

Dorian and Lucius spent the first two days wandering around in the scenic city like all other tourists, visiting landmarks, taking corny but happy photos, and eating cheap but authentic street food. In a bazaar, Lucius bought two silly bunny hats with movable ears and forced Dorian to wear them with him, and Dorian, after a weak attempt at protesting, actually obliged him. And as the stoic, poker-faced vampire wearing the overly cute bunny hat with pride and dignity while squeezing the handle to make the rabbit ear raise to point at the directions they should go, Lucius laughed so hard that his side almost split.

They also visited the Grand Athinis Gallery, and Lucius saw so many greatest paintings in history, and he was overwhelmed by the emotions conveyed through the splendid strokes and captivating colors to the extent that he shed some tears. He tried to hide it out of embarrassment, but Dorian found it especially adorable.

Presently, they were sitting on a patio of a local bar, overlooking the tranquil turquoise lagoon glistening under the moonlight.

The jazz bar was filled with people enjoying their Saturday night. No one recognized Dorian and Lucius, for the prince cast another illusory spell over themselves like a filter, disassociating their identity with their face. They basked in the warm but pleasant night air and translucent moonlight like every other guest, as if they were just another couple having a regular night out.

Lucius scooped a spoonful of rice pudding into his mouth and moaned ecstatically, “oh man! This is so good!”

A tiny reminiscent smile appeared in Dorian’s eyes, “it’s called shir berenj. My mother used to make it for me when I was little.”

“What were you like when you were a child?” Lucius asked curiously, “Were you a good mummy’s boy?”

“I sure was,” Dorian recalled the distant youthful days, feeling as if it was another person’s life, “though I spent too much time trying to impress my father and can be a little willful when I was with her, since I know she would tolerate all my tantrums and whims.”

“It must be nice having a parent who loved you so much. But it must hurt like hell when you lose it. I wonder what is better, to have it and then lose it or never have it to begin with.”NôvelDrama.Org holds © this.

“You don’t believe your mother loves you?“Dorian asked softly.

Lucius seeped at his sherbet and mumbled forlornly, “who knows. Perhaps a little, but not enough to stop them from sending me away.” But then he decided not to let these melancholy thoughts dampen his good mood. He looked around and chuckled, “I can’t believe I’m among humans.”

“Not all are humans. There are some neophyte vampires over there.” Dorian glanced at a group of beautiful young people laughing and drinking in one of the booths.

“It almost felt...like my old life. And I’m just hanging out with my date.” Lucius’s eyes roved over the whole bar and fixed on the instruments standing on the stage. There were piano, cello, and drums, and the performers hadn’t started yet.

“I’ve never heard you play before.” Lucius rested his chin on his palm and tilted his head slightly, “do you really play the cello? I didn’t even see a cello in our room.”

Dorian raised his brow, “why would I lie to you? I put all of those things away after I returned to Eternia.”

“Well then, play something for me.” Lucius smiled challengingly at Dorian.

Dorian blinked and glanced at the instruments on the stage, slightly nervous, “now?”

“Yeah, now.” Lucius’s grin was mischievous and seductive simultaneously, “sing me a serenade, I dare you.”

“You are one demanding bride, aren’t you?“Dorian leaned back conceitedly, “so what’s in it for me?”

“If you manage to charm me, I will...” Lucius leaned in and whispered something in Dorian’s ear, and a light pink suffused the vampire’s sun-kissed cheeks. Dorian cleared his throat, slightly straightened his outfit and stood up. He whispered something to the bartender, who was also the bar owner, and the latter nodded with an understanding smile. Dorian then walked up to the stage and sat on the chair behind the cello. Many people regarded him with curiosity, wondering what he would do.

Dorian adjusted the endpin, plucked the strings while turning the pegs, and then positioned the cello in his embrace. He took up the bow and spoke into the microphone in a deep, rich, magnetic voice, “this one is for my bride, Lu.”

Lucius was struck by that one single syllable.

Lu.

It was the first time Dorian spoke his real name in public. Even though they were under his spell’s protection, it was still exceedingly audacious on Dorian’s part. And it touched Lucius’s heart in an unexpected way.

Except for Julian, Amelda, and his mother, no others called him by the nickname. And he never told Dorian about it, either. And the way Dorian said it reminded him of all those soft, warm childhood memories and innocent dreams before reality corrupted and crushed them.

And then, as the bow hair touched the strings, the music trickled down like a shimmering stream of the milky way, and it silenced all the din of the bar, and even the distant ambient noise of the city was somehow muted and shied away before such melody.

It was something new, not anything classic or popular, but it was beautiful, affectionate, and profound all together. The spotlight shone on Dorian’s serene but rapt countenance and crowned his dark hair with a golden aura, and his body slightly moved with the rhythm like undulating waves. His eyes glanced up occasionally, and each time they found Lucius accurately with such ineffable emotions. It made Lucius feel like the music was a letter to him, filled with words the vampire prince couldn’t say aloud.

And those words transfixed Lucius, pierced his heart and captured his soul. He felt as if, for the first time in his life, he was...loved.

Everyone in the bar was captivated and seduced by the music and the performer, and they sat silently with wide-opened eyes, mouths open. Some of them even wept, remembering those unforgetful loves in their lives.

And as the music gradually faded, the melody still echoed in everyone’s mind, and no one wanted to leave the dreamy state. Until Dorian put down the bow and began to stand up, the whole bar suddenly erupted in a fanatic ovation.

Dorian bowed elegantly and then walked past the enthralled crowd and stood in front of a stunned Lucius, satisfied with the expression he put on his consort’s face.

“Do you like it?” Dorian asked.

Lucius stuttered, “what...what song is it?”

“It’s called Confession of A Fool. I composed it not long ago, mostly in my head. Have never tried it on the cello until today.” Dorian curled his lips, “turns out cello suits it better than piano.”

“Not long ago? Like...after our wedding?”

“I started on it after we returned from Durchville Manor, but finished it on the day after your birthday.“Dorian averted his eyes, seemingly a bit mortified.

After returning from Durchville Manor...that was when they were in a cold war because of the...incident of a wrong name being called in passion. And they finally made up on Lucius’s birthday...both occasions were about Lucius, and he immediately grasped the underlying meaning, though in disbelief.

Dorian composed the song for HIM! For Lucius!

Lucius stood up slowly, his feverish gaze locked on Dorian’s eyes and his throat dry and thirsty. He put a hand on Dorian’s shoulder, leaned in and whispered in his ears with a rich and grinding desire, “take me back to our room, now.”

Dorian instantly flew them back to their hotel room, and they were already kissing like two mad men before they even hit the bed. Lucius pushed Dorian down on the bed and looked down at him with a seductive smirk as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his velvety skin little by little.

“Relax, my prince.” Lucius licked his crimson lips, “it’s time to collect your reward.”

“Are you sure?” Dorian asked through heavy breaths.

Lucius tucked down Dorian’s pants and held the already fully erected cock in his palm, and the hungry, licentious look on his delicate face made him look like an incubus of a depraved dream.

“Oh yeah, dear. I’m pretty sure I will ride your cock for hours tonight. Not even God can stop me.” Lucius grinned before lowering his head and swallowing Dorian’s cock in one go like a starving man.