Bewitched

"Ahhhhhh...Ahhhhhhh! M-more!"

Tristan moaned in pleasure as the man on top of him kept on grinding his still clothed cock with his own. The friction was starting to make him feel dizzy in ecstasy, his precum oozing out of his aroused cock, wetting his pants. He squirmed under him, eyes shut as he basked in the heat pooling down his lower abdomen.

The man fastened his pace, earning another round of slutty moans from the brunette below him.

"F-fuck... Ahhhh... Ahhhh."

He started meeting the guy's dry humping, and Tristan knew he's close. He lifted his ass and let the man grind him even more, hitting his balls.

The brunette closed his eyes as waves of pleasure came gushing out of his cock. He moaned in pure bliss, savoring the high that he's been feeling from finally being able to cum after nights of restraining himself to hunt.

His breathing became ragged as he slumped his ass back on the mattress, eyes still closed from the aftermath.

"Did you enjoy that, slut?" The man above him muttered with pride. He felt like a king from having Tristan cum over a mere dry humping.

"Let me make you feel even better once my cock enters your slutty hole." The guy continued, fumbling through the zipper of his pants.

Tristan smirked, finally opening his eyes. He breathed in the scent coming out of the guy, not so appetizing but he didn't have a choice anyway. He'll do for tonight, just to quench his hunger.

The man was able to unbutton Tristan's jeans. He smirked as he looked at the brunette's eyes and instantly froze. The cocky attitude he's been displaying vanished into thin air, smirk suddenly leaving his lips, hands stopping from moving st the sight of the man below him.

"W-what the hell happened to your eyes?"

Tristan smiled wickedly, revealing sharp fangs. He traced his tongue over each fang before speaking with his deep and dangerous voice.

"I'm thirsty.. let me have a drink."

With one swift movement, Tristan buried his fangs on the guy's neck, not minding the screams of horror coming from him as strings of blood splattered out. He sucked the blood until the very last drop, instantly killing the man on the spot.

Tristan only retracted his fangs when the man no longer struggled to get away from his grasp, no longer breathing and alive. The heavy and lifeless body fell on his own petite one, making him groan in annoyance. He pushed the body away from him like a garbage, letting it fall on the floor with a loud thud.

"What a pain in the ass."

The brunette stared at the guy with disgust, kicking the dead man with his bare feet. He lifted the guy's arm, almost ripping it away from his shoulders before letting it fall back on the floor.

"You taste like shit."

He stomped over the guy's left hand with all his strength, breaking all the bones and almost pulverizing them.

"You think I enjoyed kissing your dirty mouth you piece of trash?!"

He kicked once more, breaking the man's ribs with a loud crack. This didn't seem to satisfy the brunette. He yanked the guy's head by gripping his hair, almost ripping his scalp from his strong grasp.

"You're not even that handsome, bitch!"

He knocked the head on the floor, making a loud banging sound. He repeated this over and over again, all the while laughing like a lunatic, until the man was no longer recognizable with his nose flattened and almost non-existent and eyeballs rolling out of his sockets.

Tristan finally stood, his anger subsiding a little as he wiped the traces of blood from his lips.

"If I'm not horny today, I wouldn't even spare you a glance, you knucklehead!"

The brunette turned away, swiftly moving out of the hotel room, leaving the dead body behind. He jumped out of the window before disappearing into the cold night.

-----

Police cars and news reporters surrounded a 5 star hotel in Amsterdam due to a report submitted to the cops that a dead body was found inside one of the VIP rooms in the middle of the night. The police officers put caution signs around the area to make sure no civilian enters and tampers the evidence.

"Chief, we've found this." One of the officers approached and handed the evidence to the chief police officer who was busy listening to the informant about the whole scenario that she witnessed.

The chief and head of the police, James Peterson, took the evidence tightly sealed in a plastic. It's an earring, a bit ancient looking one.

"Where did you find this?" James asked as he studied the object closely.

The officer pointed out the bed. "It's on the bed Chief, covered by the bed sheet."

James nodded his head before dismissing the officer. He slid the evidence inside the bag with other things that they have gotten from the area. He scanned the place once more, landing his gaze on the lifeless body on the floor. If someone will look at it closely, he could immediately tell that who ever did this has a huge grudge against the dead man, identified as Victor Lee, a half american half Korean doctor who's only been staying in the area for a week.

It's not a simple killing. The murderer has violently beaten the shit out of the man. The other officers ruled out that it could be a crime of passion, instantly checking out if the deceased doctor had a lover. Through thorough investigation, James had found this case a little odd from all the cases he's handled before.

Although the man almost had a crushed face, there was no single drop of blood in the crime scene, well except for some little splatters on the bed. What bothered the officer even more were the two marks on the victim's neck, looking like deep wounds. He couldn't stop himself from staring at those marks in great confusion.

What the hell are those?