Hunters and Hunted Artist in Residence By Evan Andrews 2022
This is a fan fiction.
"Artist in Residence" is the eighth part of a larger cycle of stories, The Hunters and Hunted series, and comes after "Released After Service".
Despite similarities in names and relationships the story is set in neither the Supernatural-verse nor the True Blood-verse nor the Buffy-verse nor the Sabrina-verse nor of any supernatural-story-verse. Those faces were just the ones I had in mind as I wrote. The thralls are based on real people, or my fantasies of them. This story should not be considered a true representation of the sexuality of any of the actors or the characters they play.
The story depicts males in sexual situations with other males. If this offends you, if you are underage, or if reading such is illegal where you are please stop reading now. Thank you.
If you enjoy this story, or even if you hate it, please contribute to keeping Nifty going at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
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Jesse, the ginger that Sam had first seen at the Squire's Communion ritual, was insane. Sam was certain of that, but not of the details. It took time, but eventually he and Dean had been able to corner their fellow squires (the sane ones, Oz and Pike) on the subject.
"So, tell us about that fifth man at Communion," Sam said.
"Jesse?" Oz said, "He's been a squire for a century and change. Before that, he was an up and coming Impressionist school artist."
"Not a hunter?" Dean sought confirmation.
"Hell no, that's a more recent practice" Pike said. "I think that was Eric's brainchild."
Oz continued, "Anyway, Jesse caught James' eye, and he convinced the Master at that time to make him a squire."
Sam was about to pursue the question of which master, and why "at that time", but his brother got in first.
"So, why the crazy eyes?" Dean asked. Yeah, Sam had been planning to get around to that eventually.
"Uhm," Oz was trying to figure out how to phrase it without criticizing the vampires when Pike broke in. (Pike had certain traits in common with Dean.)
"The Masters back then did him hard—even after he'd been brought into service," Pike said. "Caliban told me once that they fed him Communion way too often, or at least way to often for a squire if you want to be able to trust that squire out in public. They fucked him and fucked him up. Basically, they kept him just a peg below the Change for so long it damaged his mind irretrievably."
"Damn," Dean said, "You mean they like undead-edged him looney-toons?"
"Well," Pike laughed, "That's a blunt way of putting it, but yeah."
"I've never seen him in the Manor, except for Communion. Do they ever let him out?" Sam said.
"No, they keep him in his tower room where he paints."
"Tower room?" Dean asked.
"A floor below the Changing Chamber," Pike confirmed, leaving unsaid that Jesse must have heard the entire ritual of Caliban being made a vampire.
"Paints?" Sam said.
"Paints," Oz finished, and the two ranking squires pushed past the brothers and got back to duty.
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Several days later, Oz was out with Jason on some errand when Eric showed up in the squires' room, catching the brothers playing cards.
"Sam," he said, "You're with me."
"Right away, boss," Sam said, and he dropped his cards on the table-- face down. "You just lucked out, Dean."
That said, the bookish Winchester turned and followed the Master out of the room.
In the silence left by Sam's departure, Dean waited a moment before reaching over and flipping Sam's cards up.
"I knew he was bluffing," Dean said, though he had been about to give up the game.
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Sam was surprised when Eric led him to the tower stairs. Nobody used this part of the Manor, except for incarceration like Caliban before his Change, and... Oh, and Jesse.
Eric pulled out a large key and opened a door on the level just below the Changing Chamber. Inside he looked down where Jesse was already kneeling, having heard the key in the lock.
"Thank you for coming, Master," he said, but with that manic edge Sam remembered. "I'm sure that if you can spare the time today, I can get the final rough done."
Rough?' Sam thought, then, Oh yeah, he's an artist.'
Jesse looked up, his eyes bright and wild. His face, Sam saw, was a study in scarcely restrained intensity.
The room reflected its resident. Dozens of examples of the painter's work hung on the walls. The paintings were impressionist, that much Sam knew, but their colors were singular. The crazy artist had developed a style that treated dark the way Manet had treated light, and Sam could see that the painter had been working on his palette before they had come in. One of the thralls, Ian with the dark beard following his jawline, stood by Jesse, a gash in his arm leaking blood that the artist had mixed with his oil paints. Okay, so, blood impressionism. Jesse was obviously a genius, but he was a sick, twisted genius.
The piece Jesse was currently working on was going to be a full figure portrait of the Master himself. Nude, of course. And erect. Sitting on a couch.
"If you're ready, Master," Jesse said.
Eric nodded and began to shed his clothes. He handed the garments to Sam, who took them and hung them over his arm until he could get them properly folded and set aside. Ian had collapsed into an easy chair, but before Eric sat himself down, he ran a tongue across the wound in the thrall's arm.
"There, boy," he said. "You should be healed up in an hour or so."
The blond vampire master then sat down on the couch and made minute adjustments to his pose at Jesse's prompting.
"Your left hand a bit further up your thigh, Master. And your face-- you need to be looking up a bit more."
The painter twisted and looked at the wall behind him.
"There, Master," he said. "The picture of the fountain at night. Fix your eyes on that."
Eric gave a `the things I have to put up with' sigh, and fell into the requested pose.
While Eric sat and Jesse applied what seemed to Sam to be incredibly small strokes of blood oil to the canvas, Sam folded the Master's clothes and set them on the wardrobe. On a table alongside the painter's narrow, unmade bed, a pen and ink portrait of James in an Edwardian coat sat. It was old, Sam could tell, and clearly a prized possession. Tacked to the wall alongside the bed, a gallery of the vampires currently in residence hung. Unlike James' sketch, however, these were all nude and erect, and the look on each face said they wanted to fuck. A towel hanging off the bedstead made it clear these were Jesse's porn, and, judging from the smell, Jesse jerked off to his `fucked by a vampire' fantasy gallery constantly.
Sam looked over at Eric. There was no way that the Master could have missed this rogues' gallery, or the artist's purpose, yet Eric's eyes were still fixed solely on the picture of the fountain.
Internally, Sam shrugged. He figured that Eric was on top of the matter. Or thought he was. Either way...
Having a vampire as your model proved to be a blessing, and a curse, it turned out. Eric was capable of sitting for hours without motion, but at the same time that very immobility robbed the portrait of necessary vitality.
After two hours, Jesse looked around his canvas and said, "Would you like to take a break, Master?"
Eric blinked, and then smiled.
"Now that you mention it, Jesse, yes, I think I would. Sam, go down to the stables and bring me a pick-me-up."
Sam looked at Ian who was asleep in the chair (his wound healed or course) and then backed out of the room. He sprinted down the stairs, as much to fulfill the Master's request as to escape Jesse's look of distress. Could it be that he'd hoped Eric would feed off of him?
In the Stable, the roster showed that the next thrall up was Austin, a short, tight-bodied, and really fucking hot little slut with a beard and mop of wild brown hair.
"On your feet, Austin," Sam said to the naked man in the stall. "The Master's asking for you."
Austin leapt to his feet and eagerly followed the squire out of the unlocked cell. (the cells were never locked; they didn't need to be.) Rapidly ascending the stairs, the pair came back into Jesse's studio where Eric was now languishing on a sofa. Sam mused that it was the result of the sunlight that, even diffused, took something out of his masters.
"Ah, Austin. Come here, boy," the vampire said.
The tousle-headed stud fell to his knees alongside the couch. He basked in the glorious proximity of Eric's cock a beatific look coming over his face.
"Suck me, thrall," Eric said, and he fell back, sighing as Austin took the vampire's dick into his mouth and blew him.
Sam was a little jealous of the thrall. All that dick, and he didn't have the decency to share it! Oh well, Communion was in a couple of weeks, and Sam could wait that long. Jesse, on the other hand...
Sam looked at the painter and read the disappointment splashed across the redhead's face. It was understandable, Sam decided, especially given how thrilled Jesse had been to actually have Eric there in the flesh earlier. (Sam had no idea that mostly Jesse worked from memory, and having a "live" model, especially this one, was a rare treat.) Clearly Jesse'd hoped he might be rewarded with Eric's load-- outside of Communion, dangerous as that might be. But a flash of hope remained. Maybe Eric would use the thrall to fluff him, and then he could still reward his faithful artist in residence with a fast fuck.
The poor man had no way of knowing that Eric meant to blow only load this afternoon, and that load had been earmarked for Austin. Both of the vampire's servants clearly wanted to please him, but Austin was eager where Jesse was desperate.
After Eric tired of Austin's cocksucking, he stood up and bent the thrall over the boy sleeping in the chair.
"Noooooo!" Jesse cried out, and "Master, please!" Austin howled as Eric breached his hole.
As Eric crammed hard Norse dick into Austin's bubble butt, the three witnesses reacted in their own ways. Ian woke, saw what was happening over top of him, and smiled as he caressed his brother thrall's body and worked his hard swaying dick. Sam stood by, rubbing the tent in his pants until a stain of precum appeared. Jesse simply knelt on the floor, his face buried in his hands, listening as he was denied by his master.
Austin proved to be a very communicative, very appreciative bottom, even for a thrall.
"Fuck me, Master!" he cried. "Bitch me! Plant your seed deep inside my guts! Oh, fuck, what a big dick!"
Eric, with years of experience, read the room.
"Ian, Sam, and yes, even you Jesse, whip out your dicks and show me how you cum."
Eric didn't' have to ask twice. Ian grabbed his 7 ½ inches and began to pump while Sam freed his 8 inch monster, using his own precum as lube. The squire took a moment to glance at his kneeling brother who had slipped his trousers down to his knees. Jesse's one hand stroked his meat while the other was breaching his own fuckhole.
"Ohhhhhhhh!" the artist keened.
"Good, now, pay attention. We're all going to cum at the same time. Got it?"
The panting masturbators barely managed a ragged chorus of yeses when Eric continued.
"Right. Eyes on me then!"
The master vampire went into hard fucking mode.
"Do you feel your balls getting tight, Austin?" he demanded.
"Oh, fuck, yes, Master. You're gonna fucking make me cum!"
"Ian? Sam?"
"Fuck yeah, Master," the thrall in the chair panted. "I'm gonna blow!"
"Ready when you are, sir," Sam said, feeling the tingle of orgasm teasing the base of his urethra.
Jesse said nothing. The artist simply kneeled, flagrantly abusing himself.
"Right, then," Eric said, "NOW!"
Austin unloaded all over Ian's chest while Ian's own sperm rushed up to meet and mix with Austin's load in midair. Sam himself shot off into Jesse's cum-rag, gasping as his sperm further stained the towel. Jesse, his mouth open wide, let loose with a soul-shattering wail. His whole fist had slid into his butt, and his dick was free-dancing, spitting sperm in all directions.
But it was Eric that most surprised Sam. At the last second, the vampire had pulled out of Austin's so-fuckable ass and turned to his insane squire, grabbing him by the hair and pulling his open mouth to the right position. The master's big dick fired a heavy broadside into the artist's yaw, a load so big that it almost overflowed into the ginger's beard before he remembered to swallow. Sam watched as Jesse compulsively swallowed and then dove onto Eric's shaft, sucking to get the last dregs of the vampire's orgasm.
"So," Eric said, ignoring Jesse who was now nursing on his dick, "I think we're done here for the day. Sam, take my thralls back to the Stable, and Jesse," the squire looked worship up at his master, "Get your paints put away and help me dress."
As Sam shepherded Ian and Austin out the door, he looked back to see Eric slapping Jesse's face with his still-tumescent dick. The squire shook his head. He'd never figure out the ins and outs of the vampire mind, even if he lived to be a hundred.