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Jerry held Charlie through the entirety of his transformation.
For hours, the pain ebbed and flowed. He felt on the verge of tearing from his skin, like his body was on fire. Charlie thrashed and struggled fiercely, howling obscenities at Jerry as he claws at the fang marks in his neck. Charlie felt so weak, so helpless—and, then he felt something building within him… something dark, powerful.
And when it finally stopped, when the pain finally went, Charlie’s sprawls across Jerry’s legs, gasping and wheezing like he had just broken a thousand year old spell of suffocation.
The air felt heavy in his lungs. Thick with the taste of sweat and blood, the taste of Jerry, Charlie’s own fear, all these little nuances—it clogged his senses, dulling the burning throb in his neck. Charlie scrunched his nose, rolling onto his side to clutch a hand over his face.
As he turned, Charlie realized that the world around him was noticeably different than that of which he is accustomed to—it was sharper, frighteningly so. It was brighter and louder.
The shadows danced in Charlie’s peripheral with the suggestion of mystery. He turned his head gently to chase them, hoping to unveil their secrets, when his ears caught the silent crackling of the fireplace…
And suddenly, as though a lid had been abruptly pried off an air-tight container, Charlie was met with the cacophonous clash of everything around him sounding all at once: the dogs barking in the next yards over; the slamming of car doors down the street; the chirping of cicadas singing their night song all across the neighborhood.
Charlie’s head rang at the collective tolling of noise.
His hands moved from his face to his hair to clutch at his head in agony, when he felt Jerry’s hand grasp his chin. Charlie barely had time to react before Jerry had tilted his head back to meet his eyes.
Something passed between them as Charlie met Jerry’s gaze, something different that Charlie couldn’t quite pinpoint. The ringing stopped then; the auditory overload ceasing altogether and leaving in its wake only a gentle buzz that tickled between Charlie’s ears.
The noise around him didn’t stop—no, Charlie could still hear the purring of engines and the jangling of pipes in the neighbors’ house the way over—it just sounded distant now, like whispers barely catching the ear.
Jerry’s hands moved to press against his cheeks and the gesture was so tender, like how a parent would caress their newborn. There’s an infuriating look of pride in Jerry’s eyes, barely perceptible when juxtaposed against all the unbridled lust Charlie saw there.
The teen flinched as Jerry’s nails bit into his skin. Just hours earlier, these same nails would have broken his skin—now they merely stung.
There was no more blood in Charlie’s body for Jerry’s inhuman grasp to leave marks. The thought was chilling; more so, was the way Jerry craned his neck to stare ever deeper into Charlie’s eyes.
Without the master vampire’s glamour, without Jerry’s lust forced upon him, Charlie felt disgusted to have Jerry’s hands on him. He feels filthy having had Jerry’s hands and mouth on him earlier, touching him in ways he hadn’t been touched before by anyone else.
Even so, even as much as Charlie wanted to spit in the vampire’s face—to recoil against his touch and rebuff any of further advances—he still felt this lingering sense of… affection? Affection like one would feel for a lover. It alarmed him how he could feel this way for the master vampire, especially when the very look of him made Charlie sick.
Jerry moved in closer and a fleeting feeling of elation and comfort made Charlie’s limbs feel leaden. Leaning in like he was, Charlie could see all the imperfections in Jerry’s face. All the lines that spanned across his forehead, the wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, the freckles gently speckled across his cheeks and almost invisible against his deeply tanned skin. It was so weird that something so evil could be so beautiful, Charlie thought distantly, utterly surprised by his own observation and the implication therein.
Had Jerry been human… would Charlie be so adverse to the way Jerry held him as he did now?
There was a part of him that was quick to say its two cents; it denied any and all feelings for Jerry. I’m not gay. I like girls; I have a girlfriend. For the most part, its argument was sound—or at least, its conviction to the argument was unwavering.
And, even despite the resonating bond that now laid between Charlie and his maker—even as irrefutable as the feeling of fondness towards Jerry was—that part of Charlie’s mind was adamantly against being touched or even looked at by the vampire.
It felt used and dirty for having let Jerry touch him in the first place, for not putting up a better fight. It wished that Charlie had never dropped the stake; wished that Charlie had never known of Jerry's existence in the first place.
Jerry growled. The sound interrupted Charlie’s thoughts.
Like a switch being thrown in a monster movie, all at once, Charlie felt the severed connection between his mind and body finally reconnect. Just like that, there’s no more time for thought because Charlie is himself again. Not even the disarrayed feelings that burdened him—the adoration that would now be the subject of his late-night musings for the rest of his immortal days—could subdue the feeling of pure rage that made raise his hands to his maker’s shoulders and shove as hard as he could.
Charlie didn’t know his own strength. Somehow he had dislodged Jerry’s hands. It shocked Charlie that he’s able to break from the master vampire’s hold for once.
Charlie jolted upright. Like a frightened animal, he had fled from Jerry’s lap. It astounds him how little energy it takes to get himself moving.
Unfortunately, Charlie doesn’t make it to the door because whilst he was fast, Jerry’s still considerably faster—and significantly more determined to catch Charlie than the teen was to get away. If that were possible.
Jerry’s shoulder collided with Charlie nearly out of nowhere, throwing the teen half-way across the room before he could even comprehend that he was no longer moving towards the door. Shockingly enough, the sound his body made upon impact with the wall was not entirely dissimilar to that of an explosion.
Charlie head was ringing once again. He wilted to the floor with drywall and paint covering half of his body and clinging to his hair, the wall a deep impact crater behind him.
Jerry stood over him and fixed him with a hard, punishing look that made guiltiness blossom in Charlie’s chest. Charlie was quick to squash the feeling as he slowly got to his feet. Defiance radiated from him and Charlie felt dizzy as his new-found strength thrummed underneath his skin. Charlie clenched his hand into a fist and didn't give himself a chance to think whether or not trying to punch Jerry was a bad idea.
The master vampire caught his fist mid-flight and twisted Charlie's arm hard. “That wasn't a good idea, Charlie,” Jerry said menacingly. Charlie could tell by the dark undertone of Jerry's voice that the master vampire was barely restraining his temper.
It was so strange, Charlie could sense Jerry’s anger now. Could feel it. Briefly, Charlie felt the urge to apologize, but it left as quickly as it had come as Jerry had maneuvered them around and kicked Charlie hard in the back, sending the teen sprawling to the floor.
“You can kick, scream, and throw all the tantrums you want. It doesn’t matter what you do; you are mine now,” Jerry announced, reaching down and seizing Charlie by his hair.
Charlie struggled as Jerry pulled him roughly to his feet. For all his effort, Jerry forced him up against another wall. “I’ve given you something great, Charlie. Something most people will spend all their lives chasing after—I’ve given you immortality; A new life." Charlie tried to twist out of his grasp then, but—swift as ever—Jerry caught him, snatching the teen forward and slamming him back against the wall roughly. “Don’t make me kill you, Kid, that would be an awful waste,” he threatened.
Charlie bore his teeth defensively and they are pinpricks in comparison to Jerry’s extracted fangs. That hardly mattered to Charlie. He felt himself boiling with indignation and guilt; loathing and love—emotions as equally strong as they were contrasting, enough so that Charlie felt like he was going to tear in half. The teen’s own eyes flashed red as he kept his gaze leveled with Jerry's.
The master vampire recognized the challenge. He pushed his forehead against Charlie’s, kept their eyes locked as he raised a hand to Charlie’s neck.
The teen tensed. Before he could bat Jerry’s hands away, the master vampire pinned both of his wrists above his head. “I could end you, Charlie, right here and right now,” His unencumbered hand wrapped around Charlie’s neck. “I own you. Can’t you understand that? I can do anything I want to you.”
Charlie snapped in a voice that is too harsh to be his own, “Let me go!”
“Why should I?” Jerry retorted quickly, his own voice dropping several octaves. “In fact, I ought to punish you. Your mother might think your rebellious-teenaged nature is cute, but I sure as hell don’t.”
“Don’t you dare talk about her—!”
Jerry jammed his finger into Charlie’s windpipe, interrupting him. “I’ll talk about whomever I please, Charlie.” Abruptly, he pulled them both away from the wall and it was truly a sight to behold, Jerry hoisting Charlie around the room with just one hand on the teen's neck.
A moment later, Charlie crashed through the wall beside the fireplace. Jerry unfastened his belt, “you’ve got to learn your place, Charlie.” He called into the next room.
As he watched Charlie rise shakily from the rubble, Jerry smirked. “I’m going to break your spirit, Kid, and I’m going to enjoy every moment of it."