Arc 3 🔸️ Winter Interschool Festival
"I'm sorry, Young Master Darko. Lady Anastasia gave me strict orders not to let you leave the house until you've finished cleaning your room," Mrs. Morales informs me.
She's the cleaner, as well as one of the very few humans allowed to set foot in the mansion.
After all, my mother believes a vampire shouldn't stoop to doing such menial chores.
Especially not a Bloodshade.
And yet she wants me to clean my own room.
Bah...
Obviously, Mrs. Morales has no idea we're vampires.
She doesn't even know vampires exist.
Just like most humans don't.
Keeping our existence hidden is one of the conditions the Department of Defense imposed on us in exchange for letting us live here.
The same goes for the lycans.
In return, they allow us to hunt. But only at night, and only in areas they designate.
And those just happen to be the most run-down and abandoned parts of the city.
Basically, we're the ones doing them a favor by cleaning the scum off the streets.
I haven't actually slept in my room for years now.
But a guy's room is more than just a place to sleep. It's basically a treasure chest filled with everything the person who lives there is into.
Yeah, I'm a fucking poet. I know.
And no, there aren't posters of naked women all over the walls. Or a huge collection of porn.
Why the hell would I need any of that?
Instead, my room is packed with video games, especially fighting games.
By "cleaning," I mean grabbing everything off the floor and shoving it into the first drawer I can find.
Thanks to that little trick, I manage to get my room looking clean in record time.
I'm gathering up the last few things that still need to be put away when I come across a photo of me and Anastasia.
It's been buried under piles of junk scattered across the floor for who knows how long.
A selfie of the two of us hugging in the Jacuzzi in our hotel room.
If I remember correctly, it was exactly four years ago.
She was in Los Angeles on business, discussing some matters with a local family, and, as always, she'd brought me along.
A lot of time has passed since that photo was taken.
I was still two weeks away from my twelfth birthday. And yet, I remember that night as if it were yesterday.
After all, they say you never forget your first time, right?
That night of sex is still so vivid in my mind that all it takes is one look at that photo to throw me straight back into that Jacuzzi.
Still holding the picture between my fingers, I let myself fall backward onto the bed.
I lie there with my eyes closed, my mind reliving every single moment of that magical night...
"Come on, Darko, give me a nice smile and... wait, get closer or you'll be out of the picture!" Anastasia exclaimed.
She was holding a big Polaroid camera in her left hand.
Meanwhile, she pulled me toward her with her right arm.
That evening, she was wearing a burgundy swimsuit so tight that her huge breasts were spilling out from the sides.
I was wearing black swim trunks.
When she pulled me closer, my head ended up pressed against her breast just as she took the picture.
"Oh, this one came out really well!"
Then Anastasia set the Polaroid camera and the photo down somewhere away from the tub.
Even though the picture had already been taken, I stayed there with my cheek pressed against the soft skin of her breast.
"What is it, Darko? Want a head massage?"
I nodded.
Like she always did when she massaged my head, she had me sit between her legs.
I tilted my head back, resting the back of my head against her breasts.
A moment later, I felt her long nails gently scratching my scalp.
It was so... relaxing.
The soft bubbling of the water in the background.
The warmth of the tub.
Her fingers slowly running through my hair...
Ah...
My eyelids were getting so heavy that I thought I might fall asleep at any moment.
But something was keeping me awake.
A strange yet incredibly pleasant sensation that I couldn't understand at the time.
A sensation that left an obvious bulge beneath my swim trunks, clearly visible to both me and Anastasia.
My first erection.