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Friday Nights at the Vinothek | Vampire!Secondo x gn!Reader

Summary: When the local vintner who buys his cigarettes at the kiosk you work at offers you a job you can’t believe your luck. But after moving to the vineyard where the attraction between you only grows, you soon realize that he is not quite who you thought – and that working for a vampire comes with unexpected dangers.

Content: 26k words, gn!reader, smoking, alcohol consumption, blood donation/needles, fainting, vampirism (blood drinking, mind control to keep you asleep), werewolves, violence, hurt/comfort, smut (biting, blood kink, fingering, spit kink, praise, cuming in pants, cockwarming, p in hole sex, no protection), 18+, MDNI

I'm happy to finally share this story. Thank you @foxybouquet for your help with the nicknames ♡ This is a continuation to my fic Friday Nights at the Cinema Club with Primo. You don't have to read that one. However I recommend reading them in the correct order if you do! The Ao3 version is split into 3 chapters for easier reading.

Masterlist – Ao3 link – Part 1 | Primo's Story

“You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me and still come with me, and hating me through death and after. There is no such word as indifference in my apathetic nature.”

― Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, Carmilla

May

It takes all of two minutes of regular walking until he finds himself at his destination. Kiosk the sign reads in chipped away block letters, the color faded from decades of exposure to the sun.

Secondo steps inside. The neon lights flicker unrhythmically, uncomfortable to his sensitive eyes but the small corner store is the only business in a radius of forty kilometers that’s open after eight pm. Two tall newspaper racks greet him by the door, another long shelf that sells all sorts of cheap booze, a random assortment of groceries and drug store products, a bunch of dead flowers slowly rotting in their sad plastic prisons. His brothers would hate it here. Hell, sometimes even he hates it here but as the lovely face behind the register comes into view these feelings quickly change. He wonders why on earth you would choose to spend the limited years of your life working late night shifts in this dingy, outdated shop. Weekend nights, at that.

“Buona sera,” he says, then points to the Marlboro reds behind you.

The selection is abysmal here. You hand him the cigarettes, the picture of a rotting lung barely catching his eyes from the packaging. It means nothing to him, would have meant nothing to him even if he wasn’t beyond mortal diseases. Meanwhile your own curious eyes roam his form like they always do. Not very subtle but he does the very same thing with no hint of shame, your hair and skin tone flat and ashen in the horrible lighting, a wide, deformed black polo-shirt with your name tag on it hiding most of your body.

“Grazie,” he says, handing you a twenty. “Keep the change.”

At first, you fought him over the money. By now you accept it without question, the whole interaction usually playing out in exactly the same way as it does tonight. All this morality, all the politeness. You’re wasted here, wasted in this joyless life.

“Do you want to smoke with me? You close in a few minutes, no?” he hears himself asking, not sure where it is coming from. The clock above your head tells him it’s almost ten.

“I’ve never smoked before,” you say. Such a soft voice. He wonders how it would sound in a scream.

“That is not a no.”

You smile. “No, it’s not.”

What does it say about him, that he wants to corrupt this young, innocent human? Maybe that he has seen too much, the way they tend to throw away the few years of life that they have to work and work some more, energy wasted for corporations, for family drama and horrible vacations just to feel a short sense of adventure every once in a while. Then they die full of resentment and regret and once they’re gone their offspring fight over the little money and the few possessions that they leave.

Not that his own family is much better.

You meet him outside of the kiosk a few minutes later. Wordlessly he hands you a cigarette, followed by his luxurious gold Dupont lighter, worth about a thousand euros, a little splurge he treated himself to in Paris a few years ago. When you open the lid, it gives its signature cling, a well-measured flame flickering to life as you spark the flint.

“This is a fancy lighter,” you comment, bringing the cigarette to your lips.

Secondo smiles. So you have an eye for these things, even if you lack the funds. Even more curious now he watches you light the Marlboro, promptly coughing in pained stutters. He doesn’t fight the amused smile that tugs at his lips as he carefully extracts the expensive lighter from your hands, slipping it back into the pocket of his tight black slacks.

“What do you say?” he asks.

“It’s not bad,” you reply. “But I don’t think I’ll stick with it.”

He’s not surprised, though he is impressed you so easily gave in. “There are many more ways to sin, more ways to enjoy life, that might be more to your liking, little dove.”

“Like what?”

“Hmmm.” He examines you, lingering on the playful smirk on your face. “Wine of course, riding a motorcycle, expensive clothes, parties, good food… sex.”

An unmistakable heat reaches your face. He can hear the blood pumping faster through your veins, smell the first few hints of arousal oozing from your pores. It satisfies him, your reaction.

“So what, are you the devil trying to corrupt me?” you ask, covering the tremor in your voice with a chuckle.

He takes a drag from his own cigarette, exhaling a long veil of smoke. “Something like that.”

You get more restless beside him, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “If ugh… if you’re asking me for other favors, I’m really not–”

“No,” he interrupts. “I am not. I am not in the habit of finding my lovers in old shops or dark alleyways of small towns.”

“Where do you find them then?”

You pose the question quite genuinely, a flirty undertone to your words that he’s not sure you’re even aware of. He eyes you curiously. “I thought you weren’t interested?”

He can sense more heat rising to your face, radiating off into the cool night air. “I never said that.”

Ah. He averts his gaze, resisting the temptation. Secondo does not take human lovers. Not anymore. After centuries of losing people, of swimming around aimlessly with no one to anchor him, a ship lost in the endless expanse of sea that is an eternal life, he has set himself firm boundaries. Humans are a source of food, at best a companion for a few minutes of conversation, but they are never permanent. Allowing them into your bed leads to lies and wrong expectations. Falling for them, loving them even – it is hopeless, it’s a non-exhaustive well of pain and grief and misery. And attempting to make them last, turning them? He won’t make the same mistake that his younger brother made, inevitably breaking promises and dooming an innocent human to the same restless fate until they despise him for it.

He watches you stub out the cigarette on the metal lid of the nearby trashcan before throwing it away, turning back to him with a glimmer of excited anticipation in your eyes. He’s not sure what you see in him – a sophisticated older man looking for a young lover? A lonely customer in search of a few minutes of company? The local vintner out for a smoke after a long day?

“Maybe next time we will try something else,” he says.

You don’t reply as he stubs out his own cigarette, heading back home without looking back.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Vampire Gazette 02/05

Werewolf Presumed Dead After Fight In Central European Woods

A fight between a vampire and a werewolf during last Friday’s full moon supposedly ended in the death of the lycanthrope. Multiple anonymous sources claim that the victim was a middle-aged outcast who resided close to the scene of the conflict in a small Central European town. A source close to the family suggests that the vampire, who remained unharmed, is Primo Emeritus. Known as a former Papa and eldest son of the current head of the Church of Emeritus, the vampire moved to the town no more than twelve moons ago. The source states that it was an act of self-defense and that the Emeritus ghouls took care of the body. No remains could be found within the castle walls of his now abandoned home, according to a representative of the werewolf community. A team of impartial investigators has been hired by the authorities to look into the case. Upon editorial request, Primo Emeritus was not willing to comment on the accusations at this time.

Instances of fights between vampires and werewolves have become rare over the past two centuries. This is the first instance of a killing between the two groups in almost a decade. Further consequences remain to be observed. Experts expect the respective authorities to be able to smooth the waters fairly quickly considering the high social standing of the Emeritus clan.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Secondo nearly spits out his evening coffee, Terzo next to him breaks out in manic laughter. For a few minutes after reading the paper they both sit around the large dining table in pure, unadulterated wonder.

“He killed a fucking werewolf?” Terzo finally speaks into the silence.

“It would appear so.”

More laughter. Terzo is holding his belly underneath his pristine white blouse, his chest heaving with the intensity of his fit. Secondo knows his brother is not breaking out in amusement but sheer disbelief and yet, it is a rare, almost heart-warming experience to hear him actually laughing for once. If only the circumstances weren’t as dire.

“I’m not surprised no one informed us,” Secondo muses. “Father must know.”

“He must, yes, but he doesn’t give a shit.” Another bout of laughter as Terzo’s elbows crash down on the majestic wooden table, his head landing on his hands in a gesture of wild incredulity. “He killed a werewolf. Primo.”

“Will you stop laughing? This could have serious consequences, outcast or not. We have to keep an eye on this.”

“Do you think they’ll be after us?”

A shrug. “That would be foolish but it is a possibility.”

Terzo rests his head on his upper arm now, elegantly draped over the table with his raven hair falling into his face as he turns to his brother. “Why do you think he killed him?”

“Perhaps it was self defense. Some werewolves still hold a deep hatred for vampires. Though it is very stupid to attack Primo. He must have known who he is.”

Terzo pauses, drumming his fingers against his head. He was never able to keep still for long, a little fidget with a tendency for clumsiness, drawing attention to himself if he wanted to or not. “I wish we knew what he is up to. I hate this separation. Can’t you invite him over for that big fancy new wine tasting?”

“He clearly stated that he wanted to be alone for a while to build a quiet new life.”

“Yes but by now a while is four decades.”

Secondo breathes out a sigh. “I can invite him, I am not sure he will come.”

“Let him know I’m here.”

“I don’t know if that is an incentive or a sure way to get him to never call again.”

His voice is deadpan, yet Terzo breaks out in more laughter. “You can be so funny, fratello. If only you wouldn’t hide it behind that scary scowl of yours.”

“Aren’t you supposed to help the ghouls clear out the west wing today? We need to renovate the rooms.”

“I don’t know why you assume I am the new bellhop in your hotel business.”

Secondo waits until Terzo meets his eyes, narrowing them for extra emphasis. “Don’t think I do not know why you suddenly felt the need to visit me over the summer. Surely it was not because you missed me so.”

“I don’t know what you mean, fratello.”

“What makes you think they will be here?”

Terzo holds his gaze, similar white and green eyes meeting, only breaking away when the door to the dining room flies open and a black-hooded ghoul steps inside. “They will be, I know it.”

June

Time feels especially gooey on weekend nights. Customers are a rare sight, not even Mr Emeritus, the attractive older and suspiciously well-dressed man who occasionally buys cigarettes from you, shows up tonight. The tinny music from the old radio behind the counter is somehow worse, every shift a ten hour train ride without stops. Usually, you sit on your little stool reading your book or scrolling on your phone. Today, it’s so boring that you open the daily newspaper to scan the job listings, just in case something pops up.

As expected, it is hopeless. Another dead town center of a remote village with no qualified job offers, your salary a joke but your boss never fails to stress that you at least get the employee discount and free Wrigley’s Spearmint bubble gum. Even with your meager savings you can’t afford the move to a bigger city right now, the prospect of being alone in an even larger just as hollow space with too many strange faces around you not at all enticing. At least here people know you, even if all of your friends have long since moved away in search of jobs and a place to settle.

You turn the page, a rustling sound that feels too loud in the quiet vacuum of the kiosk.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Nordsteiner Abendblatt

– Ad –

Wine is not the only juice of life that makes it worth living. Donate your blood to help the local hospitals this weekend at the Emeritus Vineyard.

Date: June 25th, 4-10pm

Reward: 50€

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Fifty euros? You pause. Have they always offered money for this? It’s not a pay rise, it won’t get you very far either, but for a bit of blood it’s certainly tempting. There haven’t been any blood donation campaigns here in quite some time, not since they closed the local medical center after pretty much all of the doctors retired, their offices long since abandoned.

You mull it over until you close the shop half an hour later after another sluggish Friday night without customers. You walk past the Vinothek, peeking inside like you always do on your way home. For a shop slash bar that sells wine in an almost abandoned old town it is incredibly fancy, antique looking wooden interiors, deep green velvet wallpapers with a subtle pattern of tendrils of vine that seem to be crawling up to the ceiling, dipped into the soft shadows of dimmed wall lamps. Everything is centered around a bar that is too well-stocked and professional for a town like this, expensive liquors, a wine fridge that must have cost more than your tiny old car. Two men are nursing their drinks – only one of them is peering over the rim of an actual wine glass, black hair falling into an aging face, the other one tipping the remainder of a beer into his mouth.

The only explanation you have is that this is Mr Emeritus’s little playground while the actual money comes from the export of the wine they produce in the vineyard at the edge of town. You’ve been to the old Mansion before, tugged away in the rolling hills framing the area. They offer guided tours with subsequent wine tastings, hikes, really, that are especially beautiful in early fall when the grapevines are filled with deep purple fruit and the leaves of the surrounding trees are slowly turning yellow. Even though you don’t drink all that often and are by no means an expert you have to admit that you’ve never tasted wine quite as smooth, quite as delicate as Mr Emeritus’s.

That day a few years ago you didn’t get to see the owner himself, you’re not sure if you’ve ever actually seen him in broad daylight, but now you do spot him standing in the doorway at the far end of the bar. He looks dashing, wearing tight-fitting black slacks, a matching black button down shirt with expensive-looking leather gloves and the sunglasses you never see him without. He’s Italian, that much you know, polite yet reserved when he’s not coaxing you into smoking. Even a few weeks later you’re not quite sure what got into him that night, talking to you about enjoying life and sinning, about alcohol and sex and then just… leaving. Not even mentioning it again when he picked up new Marlboros the week after.

Lost in thought, you almost miss that his gaze shifts towards the window. Under his glasses it’s hard to tell if he is actually looking at you but you decide to leave anyway before he gets the idea of inviting you inside. Somehow you must have got stuck for a moment, frozen in time, because before you’ve even passed the bar he suddenly pops up right in front of you. Confused, you glance from the entrance back to him, the door only slowly swinging shut. How–

“Buona sera,” he says, lighting a cigarette with the fancy gold lighter he let you use last time. For a man who seems to indulge in luxuries, he seems so very down to earth, minimalist in a way, no word, no detail that feels out of place.

“Hello,” you reply.

For a moment you stand there like you’re waiting for the bus to pick you up, unsure if you should just leave or if he is trying to start a conversation. Maybe he’s just out for smoke, maybe he didn’t even notice you from inside. The tip of his cigarette burns up brightly when he takes the first drag, a bright orange fleck of light in the darkness surrounding him. His mere aura beside you seems to command the night, wholly different from how you perceive him in the kiosk. This is his private kingdom, this is where he feels at home.

“Did you finish your shift?” he asks then, puffing out smoke.

“Yeah. It was a calm night.”

“I see.” He takes another drag, then he holds the cigarette out for you, secured between his gloved fingers. “Hm?”

You instinctively shake your head and his pencil mustache twitches. He does not pull away, a dare, maybe. “Okay,” you decide. “Sure.”

A rare smile. He takes a step closer which sends you into a nervous spiral, your heart pumping faster and faster. A slight tremor runs through his hand as he places the filter at your lips, the very part that was trapped in his own mouth mere seconds ago. At this thought, your hands start to sweat, warmth spreading out in your lower belly. His eyes are fixated on your mouth as you close your lips around the cigarette, taking a brave inhale that burns in your lungs. This time you don’t cough or stutter. Your face starts to burn all the same.

“Can I offer you a drink?” he asks. “On the house.”

“I don’t usually…” You catch yourself before you finish the sentence, shaking your head to dismiss your own hesitation as you remember his words. “Yes, thank you.”

If he notices how flustered you are, he does not let on as he holds the door open for you to invite you in. The man who finished his beer earlier is slipping past you by the entrance and you notice that whoever had the wine is not inside the bar anymore. At the prospect of being alone in here with Mr Emeritus, your stomach does a somersault.

He disappears behind the bar and you set your bag down on one of the stools before you shift into a comfortable position right next to it. The seats are soft and plush, inviting you to stay for more than one glass. Observing the happenings behind the bar from here is a lot more exciting than from the outside. Mr Emeritus is in his element, that much is certain, whipping out glasses and corkscrews with expert movements.

“You do not drink often,” he states. “I think I have something that you would like.”

You nod your consent and watch him pick out a bottle from the fridge. It looks expensive, a white label with gold-foiled lettering. Papastrello, it says. The rest of the words are too small.

“What are you reading?” he asks as he opens the bottle. His eyes have found your bag, the spine of a worn old paperback peeking out of the open zipper

“Carmilla,” you say.

“Ah, vampires.” The cork pops, a deep, satisfying sound. A rich, slightly sweet scent escapes the now open bottle. “Do you enjoy the old tales?”

“I prefer them over the newer adaptations, yes.”

“So do I,” he says, expertly filling a glass with the red liquid. “I am surprised a young person such as yourself is so fond of the classics.”

You chuckle. “I think many people are. Or they would not be classics.”

He hums, setting the glass down in front of you. “Not blood but a red that is just as beautiful and rich,” he remarks. “One of my fratellino’s favorites.”

“I don’t uhm…” You carefully take the delicate stem of the thick-bellied glass. “I don’t really know how to–”

“Smell it for a moment, grappolino,” he says. “Do not worry about drinking.”

You bring the glass to your nose. The scent is so strong to your unused senses that you barely have to sniff. Even so, you’re not sure what you’re smelling. It reminds you of different fruits, cherry maybe, almost sweet but with a hint of acid.

“There are different categories of aromas,” he says. “Primary, secondary, tertiary. Many factors influence the smell, the type of grape, the fermentation process, the aging in the barrel.”

He explains it calmly, knowledgeable, not like he wants to brag or taunt you for your lack of expertise. You have to admire how soft-spoken he is for someone with such harsh features, such a domineering aura. Seldom have you met a man of his standing who was so pleasant to talk to, who drew you in like this.

“Now try,” he instructs. “A small sip, hold it in your mouth for a moment, breathe in and see how it makes you feel.”

You do as he says, taking some of the red liquid in your mouth and swirling it around your tongue, breathing in as you let it sit. Somehow the aroma is still there, different from the taste, more intense, but together they fill your senses in a most pleasant way. The wine feels smooth in your mouth just like you remember, even as you swallow, not at all like the cheap supermarket wine you know from when you were younger and drinking with friends.

“No blood, you were right,” you say with a smile. “But it is good. I like it a lot.”

He nods, content with your reply, and fills your glass up a little more. Somehow you feel good about satisfying him, about following his instructions and earning his approval. You wouldn’t mind following him in other areas of your life.

“Speaking of blood,” you say to distract yourself from these thoughts. “I saw your ad in the paper earlier. The one for the blood donation.”

“Are you looking to donate?” he asks, perking up. With his interest so focused on you, you suddenly feel almost shy about it.

“I am thinking about it,” you say. “I used to go years ago.”

“We are happy about everyone who donates. It is for a good cause, we are going to do it every few months now.”

“I didn’t know that you get money for it or I would have looked into it sooner.”

“The kiosk does not pay well?” he concludes.

You huff out a pained laugh. “No. It’s a struggle. But there aren’t many jobs available around here.”

He regards you curiously, at least from what you can gather without seeing his actual eyes. You wish you could. His mustache is a dark brown color, even without hair on his head you assume his eyes must be dark just like that. Or perhaps green, maybe even hazel. Without seeing them your own gaze quickly falls, dancing along his sharp cheekbones and down his prominent nose, the lines on his face leading you to his mouth, pencil mustache, full lips over a strong chin. You’ve been eyeing him for months now, every time he visits the kiosk, but somehow the change in lighting, the change in atmosphere, gives him a magnetic, almost preternatural aura.

A smile tugs at his lips then and you panic for a moment that he might have read your thoughts, that you must have been staring. You quickly avert your gaze, downing way too much of the wine to keep up a graceful appearance.

“Can I offer you some food? Some cheese, perhaps?” he asks.

“Actually, I should um… I should head home,” you say, already feeling a little lightheaded. “It’s late and I have a shift tomorrow.”

“Take the bottle,” he says.

“What? No– That’s–”

“Grappolino, I want you to have it. Don’t insult me by refusing a gift.”

You’re not sure what the name means, something with grapes, probably, but you’re too flustered now to pay much attention. When he hands you the bottle you blindly take it, uttering a few words of thanks. He remains steady, unbothered, which you assume is a good thing. He’s not truly offended. You wonder if anything could shake him enough to break his measured temper.

“I will see you at the donation?” he asks when you slip from your stool.

“Yes. I will see you there,” you promise. “I can’t wait to give you my blood.”

He chuckles, a foreign sound coming from the depths of his throat. Without looking back up, you grab your bag and almost rush out of the bar. The cool night air slaps you in the face like a whip, clearing your head and senses from the effects of the wine and its producer in mere seconds. You take a few deep breaths, pressing the cold bottle against your burning chest. If he is flirting with you then it is certainly working, if not then his mere presence affects you in ways you feel almost ashamed of. Either way, you can’t deny that the money has suddenly become a secondary motivation to visit the vineyard next week. No, there is something way more thrilling waiting for you.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Specks of dust dance in the sunlight like a thousand tiny feathers, sinking to the ground almost weightlessly. The two empty sitting rooms on the ground floor should be enough to meet the demand that Secondo expects for today. Everyone who donates their blood gets a voucher for the Vinothek and fifty euros cash on hand. The incentives promise a high yield, enough to fill every pre-order as well as the glasses of his special guests once the blood “wine” is ready to be served.

To his chagrin, all the ghouls are busy renovating the guest rooms, and so Terzo is the one helping him prepare the localities. The partnering hospital has sent a truck with enough donation chairs to line the walls opposite of the south-facing windows of the two rooms, granting a nice view over the vineyard. Come sundown, the ghouls will handle the donations. With their monk-like appearance Secondo hopes the people will be trusting. All the bureaucratic hassle, all the licenses and administrative obstacles better be worth it.

“So, how many times do we have to do this?” Terzo asks, rolling another chair into the room.

“This will be the first harvest, another one in September,” Secondo says. “We will keep sixty percent of donations, the rest goes to the local hospitals. It should give us enough to last over the winter if the demand is stable. Then we continue in spring.”

“Mhm and you’re looking forward to tasting the blood of someone special?”

Secondo’s gaze snaps up in a withering look. “Are you eavesdropping on me?”

“It was hard to avoid, fratello. After I finished my wine I had to use the bathroom and it is so close to the bar, no?” He shrugs, smiling to himself. “Now, what happened to Mr. I-don’t-fuck-humans?”

“Who said anything about sexual intercourse?”

“Sexual intercourse?” Terzo repeats. “That’s not a very romantic word. Not very sexy either.”

“I am not looking to fuck, I am looking for a food source.”

“So you want to sample their blood today?”

“Yes.”

“What makes you think it’s good? Why are they special?”

Secondo has no answer to this. Instead he pushes his sunglasses up his nose, adjusts his gloves, biding time. When he finally meets Terzo’s curious gaze again, he shrugs. “I have a feeling.”

“Where exactly is this feeling located? Just below your belt?”

He heaves an annoyed sigh. He won’t grace with him a reply to this, maybe even because he knows that there is a certain truth to his brother’s words that he would rather ignore. There is just something about your smell, about your presence, your positive aura, the warmth in your eyes, that wakes a certain hunger in him. Sexual or not, Secondo knows that he needs to taste your blood.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

The mansion is just as impressive as you remember from your last visit years ago, throning over steep hills with neat rows of lush grapevines. The sight takes your breath away as you carry your already tired body towards the open entrance gates of the estate. A grand, majestic building sits partly hidden behind two tall beech trees with their voluminous crowns, U-shaped, well-kept and exuding the impressive historic atmosphere of centuries past. Ivy and vine tendrils crawl up the high walls on either side, hiding some of the rich ornamentations of the façade that are partly embellished in gold.

You leave the winding trail through the landscape, your muscles burning from the steady uphill climb, and enter a spacious, stone-flagged courtyard. An almost Mediterranean ambience welcomes you – old wine barrels have been stacked in one corner, beautifully planted with lush flowers and shrubs like a small magical garden. A small outdoor sitting area dominates another corner, shielded from the sun by a pergola that’s overgrown with more vine tendrils. Terracotta planters scattered around the open space house even more greenery and the whole area smells richly of herbs and pollen.

You soon spot a sign with a red arrow, the words blood donation written underneath, leading into one of the side entrances. An old chair secures a wooden door that opens into a cool but gloomy hallway, flagged with old stone tiles that remind you more of a castle than a stately home. You’re met with voices chattering in the rooms on either side – it seems busy. Glancing into one, you spot a small reception area and decide that this is where you must be registering for your donation. One wall of the room is lined in medical chairs, almost all of them occupied by donors with black-robed men that remind you of monks tending to them.

You are greeted by one of them, only not with words but a gentle nod as he guides you through another door. Inside is a small office where a pale but kind-looking doctor receives you. After a short talk he clears you for donation and you’re assigned one of the chairs near the entrance. One of the black-hooded men approaches. He really must be a monk, you decide, doing charitable work. Perhaps Mr Emeritus has connections to the church – it would make sense if he is veering into the philanthropic lane now. So many religious orders have their own humanitarian organizations who offer volunteers in the field of medical care, maybe he even has his own. You don’t question the process as everyone else in the room seems comfortable.

The monk does not speak to you when he prepares your arm but he is certainly skilled as he slides the sharp needle through your skin and into your vein. You hardly feel any pressure and as the tube fills with your blood, you start to relax in your seat. He hands you a black rubber stress ball, mimicking how you’re supposed to squeeze it to your palm to increase the blood flow. For the next ten minutes you stay exactly like that, your arm outstretched and your fingers wrapped around the squishy toy. Time passes fast, an older lady begins to chat with you before she is done and leaves you to yourself. Once your bag is filled, the monk removes the needle and expertly wraps up your arm. You don’t see where he carries the bag as he leaves through another door.

With your donation complete, you first sit and then stand up, cautiously stretching out your limbs as to not overwhelm your circulation, following the lady’s advice to take it easy. Another sign in the hallways indicates that there is a sort of break room with snacks and drinks, so you decide to head there and wait until your body has recovered. The sudden change of light and temperature as you leave the sunny and warm sitting room does you no favor. Suddenly your head begins to swim, an icy cold wrapping around your body like a blanket of snow. Your fingertips tingle, cold sweat spreading over your back and then you’re sinking, falling–

“Careful,” a steady voice says and instead of the cool stone floor you hit a soft, strong body. Your vision is blurry but you clearly see the outline of black sunglasses over a strong nose and then those soft, full lips. The man cradles you against him, sitting you down with his knee supporting your back. “I need you to lie down, grappolino. Do I have permission to carry you?”

You nod, not quite sure what is going on as your brain struggles to cling to the world around you.

“It’s you,” you whisper when he gathers you in his arms like you weigh nothing at all.

He carries you down the hallway, the sudden movement only making you dizzier until you feel like you have to throw up. “It is me,” he says at length. “Do not worry, little dove, I will take care of you. I will take care of you forever.”

You close your eyes at the sound of his soothing words, spoken in such a deep but somehow soft voice that caresses your ears like the gentle touch of a lover. Comforted, you rest your head on his shoulders, breathing out a tired sigh, and drift off.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

“This is the right bag?” he asks, even though he can smell it through the plastic and antiseptic layers surrounding it. The same scent he detected from your arm when he carried you upstairs, a scent that already has his nerves on edge with an appetite that he can hardly contain.

The ghoul nods and Secondo shudders as he cradles your blood in his hands. What a beautiful red, richer than any wine he ever made. He takes off his sunglasses to admire how it moves when he flexes his gloved fingers, the texture so smooth, almost silken. Saliva gathers in his mouth and for a moment he forgets the presence of the ghoul.

Impatient now, he looks up to dismiss him. “Grazie.”

He’s already in the kitchen when the door closes, ripping open cabinets in search of a glass. But his body is on fire, burning, longing, craving. He feels like a starving man, like an addict in search of a fix, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s abandoned his search. With both hands he takes the bag and sinks his fangs into the plastic, penetrating the material until he can finally taste you. A deep, rumbling moan breaks from his chest as the first drop of blood meets his tongue. It’s not enough. He bites harder until more of the liquid spills out. Secondo drinks like he has never drunk before. Any attempt at savoring it is in vain. He can’t remember the last time he lost control like this, gulping it down with a greed that would make Lucifer proud, an unquenchable thirst. Your blood is infernal, drinking it an unholy sacrament, the closest he has felt to his faith in decades since leaving the Church. More and more he sucks into his mouth until it dribbles down his chin and onto his sleek white shirt, the one he ironed before knowing that he would meet you today. He rips it from his chest as soon as the bag is empty and the taste starts to fade. Impatiently he sucks at the stains until the aroma finally escapes even his hyper sensitive taste buds.

He’s a wreck. The smell lingers in his nose long after he’s licked the last remnants from his gloves. He sinks to the floor, shamefully gathering the last few drops of blood he spilled and bringing them to his searing, ruined tongue. A pathetic, shameful whimper escapes him and he has to sit in quiet solitude for several minutes until he manages to gather his wits. This is embarrassing, he decides. He has to get cleaned up and dressed.

Secondo enters his bedroom where he brought you to rest a mere ten minutes ago. The sight of your innocent form sleeping in his bed nearly sends him into another frenzy, your neck exposed over the collar of your shirt and practically begging for his mouth. He stands and looks at your weak body, watching your eyes twitching behind their lids, even if they stay closed. For now he is sated enough to stay in control, pushing any animalistic thoughts to the side. You’re beautiful, such a lovely young human, sleeping in the bed of a bloodthirsty monster. The thought makes him chuckle. Perhaps human prejudice against vampires is not that unfounded, even if he usually thinks of himself as a rather sophisticated specimen.

He allows himself another moment of silent reprieve, his eyes roaming your peaceful form without his glasses now. Eventually he brings himself to take a quick shower in the en-suite, freshening up, more cologne, less blood to spook you. He decides on a simple dark green polo shirt, showing off his arms. As he splashes his face with water, he can’t help but wonder what is happening to him.

Your taste is unlike any he has ever experienced before. If he sold it in bottles, even watered down, everyone would flock to his business. But just the thought of sharing you with any other vampire makes him recoil in disgust, the hair on his arms standing up in defiance. It is an entirely new sensation, entirely unwelcome, and yet he can’t shake it. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do about these intrusive feelings, about his lack of control, the possessiveness that overcomes him in your presence. He’s not even sure if he can trust himself to be near you.

But even so he knows that he cannot let you leave. Not anymore.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

You dream of him.

The outlines are blurry, a room that feels dark, the lights blended out and only coming in through cracks that won’t allow your eyes to focus. Then his handsome face comes into view. Your vision clears for just a moment. Blood covers his face. Not his face. His mouth. His eyes are weird, one is a dark red and one is incredibly pale, the strong brows above drawn tightly together. His gaze is intense, a hunger, a craving reflected in his glowing irises. You’re scared for just a moment but then his expression changes, a sudden tenderness glossing over the harshness of his features and the red eye turns to an emerald green. He looks quite beautiful like this, even with the blood covering his mouth. Especially with the blood covering his mouth.

When you break free from the tight grasp of your hazy dream and open your eyes, his face is right there. You startle, your slow heartbeat suddenly jumping into a sprint, but there is no blood, no discolored eyes, just his sunglasses as he pushes them up his nose.

“Don’t be scared, grappolino,” he says from the edge of the bed. “It is just me.”

You nod, blinking yourself awake. Your head hurts, a low thrum that penetrates your skull like a fly repeatedly hitting a window.

“Do you remember what happened?”

You sit up slightly, propping the pillow up behind you and the way it hurts, the pressure and numbness in the crook of your arm, brings back your memories. “I donated blood.”

“You did. And you fainted,” he explains. “This is my own private bedroom.”

“Do… do all the patients get this treatment?”

A chuckle. “No.”

Heat rises to your chest and you avert your eyes. They are immediately drawn to his bare arms, to the dark hair covering them before his gloved hands appear in your peripheral vision. The polo shirt suits him, a dark green color, the cut accentuating the solid shape of his shoulders. A tuft of dark chest hair peeks out of his open collar and you can see his nipples through the fabric. It is cold in here, you realize. Or perhaps your goosebumps have a different origin.

“I brought you something to drink,” he says, lifting a dark glass bottle he must have set down beside the bed. The distraction is imminent. You eye it curiously, a frown settling on your face.

He can’t possibly be offering you wine right now?

“Grape juice,” he states.

“Oh.”

You feel silly now, maybe your brain is still not fully awake. He opens the screw and fills a glass that was previously set down on the bedside table. When he hands it to you, the tight bandage on your arm hinders you yet again from moving freely and you have to hold out your other hand instead. Mr Emeritus is patient, waiting until you’ve taken the first few sips before he stands from the bed.

“I will bring you some food, little dove. We need to increase your blood sugar, give you some energy. In the meantime you will be good for me and drink your juice, yes?”

His words make you choke on your spit and you cough uncomfortably into the burn. “I ugh… I will. Thank you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smile but it’s enough to have you flustered. You take small sips of the juice that, just like his wine, feels smooth on your tongue and has a rich, intense flavor. It warms your belly, brings life back into your limbs and other parts of your body. You’d be good for him in so many different ways if he let you.

That thought makes you abruptly realize that you’re in his actual bed. You use the chance to properly look at the spacious room surrounding you. It is furnished rather simply, heavy dark curtains cover most of the windows but even with most of the light locked out you can’t see anything beyond the huge canopy you’re resting on. You’re draped between dark green cotton sheets that must have an incredibly high thread count with how soft they feel underneath your fingertips. The dark wooden bed frame is kept upright by four artfully carved posts, solid and dominating the room, the drapes tied to them with rope. You spot two doorways – one is closed, the other slightly ajar. The wall next to the open door is home to a huge painting, the edge of the gold frame shimmering in an odd ray of light that breaks through a gap in the curtains. You don’t know the artwork, it seems to be a dark one, mostly covered in shadows now, but you think it must be a religious subject because you can make out monk-like figures, a goat, a building that resembles an old abbey.

“You walked here?”

Mr Emeritus reenters the room, carrying a tray as he pushes the door open with his black leather brogues.

“Ugh, yes. Is that bad?”

“You cannot walk back,” he decides. “No one is available right now to drive you and I cannot leave before we are done with donations. I suggest you stay and rest.”

“As in… stay the night?”

“One of our guest rooms should be finished by now. You can stay there.” A pause as he settles back beside you and places his cargo in your lap. On the tray you find a basket with a few slices of bread, ciabatta from the looks of it, a plate with a small piece of butter, two different wedges of cheese, a bunch of grapes and other fruit. It looks delicious. “I hope this is to your liking.”

“It looks wonderful, thank you.“ You look from the tray to him. “You’re not from the area originally, are you?”

“No, I am not from the area. Does that matter to you, grappolino?”

“No, you just… you don’t look like you belong here,” you finally say, popping a grape into your mouth. “You should be in… I don’t know, Rome, Paris. Or Tuscany, maybe. Why did you bring your business here? Just because of the vineyard?”

“The mansion has been in possession of my family for a long time,” he says. “I always had an interest in wine making, so I took over when the previous tenant expressed his wish to retire.”

“So you actually chose to live in the middle of nowhere?”

“I enjoy the quiet and solitude.” He cocks his head to the side. “And besides, so do you.”

“Hm, touché.”

You eat as much as you feel comfortable with. He watches you throughout your little meal and while it unsettles you you’re more than willing to accept his hospitality. You promised to be good for him after all and you don’t intend to break that promise. Once you’re done he relieves you of the tray and sets it down on the floor. He gives no indication that he wants to leave.

“Do you feel better?” he asks instead. “Let me feel your pulse.”

You don’t object when his gloved hand reaches for yours. The leather feels thick, sturdy, which makes his hand look huge when it surrounds yours. But then he seems to make a last minute decision to remove the gloves, revealing pale but strong hands, dark hair trailing from his knuckles down to his arm. His fingers are cooler than you expect even though there is a warm glow pulsating underneath his fingertips. Your heart immediately begins to hammer in your chest, rapidly beating against its cage of bone and skin. This will not be a useful measuring, at least not if he’s trying to anticipate your health.

Perhaps his train of thought is similar, for his eyes search yours the moment he feels the increase. The corner of his mouth pulls up slightly and his thumb gently strokes over your wrist. You’re quite incapable of looking away, even through the sunglasses there seems to be a sort of shine in his gaze. If only you could properly see them, not just their shadowy outlines. Sparks fly just below your skin, sending shivers through your whole body.

“You seem livelier to me,” he concludes. “Perhaps some more sleep will do, hm? I will have your rooms arranged, you can stay here for the time being.”

“I have a question,” you pipe up before he can leave, a hint of embarrassment laced into your words that you can’t quite hide. “Am I still getting the money?”

“The money?”

“The fifty euros.”

You’re acutely aware of his thumb still stroking your wrist, so softly that it tickles. “You will, grappolino. But there is… something I want to talk to you about. I was going to wait but perhaps now is a good time, no? Before you are too tired again.”

“What is it?” you ask.

“I want to offer you a job.”

Your eyes widen, the words so unexpected. “A job?”

“I need an employee for the Vinothek. Wine tastings take place on Friday nights every few weeks and I need someone to take over the regular business as I take care of them. The rest of the time you can help out in the vineyard. We have a few important events soon where we introduce new varieties, some international guests will come to visit and there is a lot to do until then.”

“Are you sure this is… not just a pity job offering?”

“No,” he states so matter-of-factly that all your questions vanish. “I can use two extra hands and a sharp brain. I will double your current salary and you can move into your own quarters here for no extra cost. I will make sure your rooms are to your liking.”

You let the thought sit for a moment. Double your salary? Living in an actual mansion in the midst of beautiful wine hills? You wonder what the catch is, if he’s just going to fire you once fall is over or if he’s going to give you all the most horrible tasks he can think of. Even so, for that much money you wouldn’t mind cleaning toilets, sweeping the floors or brewing his morning coffee. It’s not that different from what you’re doing right now anyway.

“Of course there will be no eh… bad blood if you say no.”

“That seems exceptionally dumb,” you say, cringing a bit at your words. “What I mean is, that’s a… a tempting offer. It’s one that sounds too good to be true, actually. It’s just… I don’t know much about wine.”

“I can teach you all that you need to know, grappolino, non preoccuparti,” he says, his voice deeper and almost sultry. His thumb presses into your pulse then, drawing a line along the vein in your forearm until he stops just below the crook of your arm. Then he seems to snap out of whatever thought occupied his mind and pulls away. “Think about it. I do not expect a reply right away.”

You nod, missing his fingers on you already. When he finally leaves the room, you sink back into the soft mattress and imagine what a life here would be like. The offer is too good to refuse and your undeniable crush on Mr Emeritus urges you to agree even more, no matter how foolish it would be to pine after your employer. Subconsciously you bring your thumb to the wrist he just held, mimicking his touch. You think you might die if you don’t feel his hands on your body again. Perhaps he was right, perhaps you would like to explore all the different ways of sinning that he mentioned to you, and perhaps you would very much like him to take part as well.

July

Even though you’re still not quite sure what to make of the masked and hooded monks living in his home who never seem to speak, you accompany them to pack up your belongings. They follow all of your requests and directions without question, treat your things with utmost care and make sure nothing gets lost. What is even more astounding is how they carry even the heaviest of boxes filled with books without any visible strain. Most of the furniture you won’t need anymore is quickly sold or gifted to people on eBay and in the span of one afternoon, all you need is neatly packed into boxes that are now stacked in your new quarters.

You’re not quite sure how he did it but Mr Emeritus handled your job transition quite seamlessly. Your old boss agreed immediately, at least that’s what he told you, and a day later you signed all the necessary paperwork. It gives you a whole day off to familiarize yourself with your new living situation. All morning you unpack boxes, sort books into shelves, clothes into drawers. Your quarters are bigger than anticipated. A decently sized sitting room with beautiful antique-looking green sofas leads into a wide, canopied bedroom that has an en-suite bathroom as well as a walk-in closet.

You are free to use the impressive kitchen downstairs and really, you still haven’t found the catch in the whole arrangement. In search of a cup of afternoon tea, you make your way exactly there, hoping that the pantry is stocked since you’re pretty sure Mr Emeritus has his own private kitchen somewhere else in the mansion. This morning, when you picked up a cup of coffee, he was nowhere to be seen and no dishes or any other evidence betrayed that he was down here.

When you enter the room now, you spot someone else – a raven-haired head stuck in the fridge. The man looks like he just woke up, wearing grey sweatpants and a purple dressing gown. When he turns around, you notice that his upper body is naked and for a moment you’re not sure where to look. The sweatpants barely conceal the outline of his cock and his bare chest and the soft pouch of his belly are covered in thick black hair. A few small tattoos litter his pale skin, an upside down cross underneath his ribs, two more symbols you don’t recognize just above the dip of his hips. His face seems familiar, broad and handsome, beautifully aged with lines that bring out his strong features, bushy dark eyebrows over eyes that… You halt for a moment. One of his irises is green and the other is white, just like the ones you saw in your dream. Heterochromia is nothing new to you, but for an eye to be this pale?

“Oh, buon pomeriggo,” he says with an openly flirty smile. “We have not met yet, I believe?”

“Uhm... no. I don’t think so.”

“You can call me Terzo.”

You give him your name as well, introducing yourself as a new employee. Before the man can say anything else, steps resound behind you and Mr Emeritus appears in the doorway, eyeing him with barely concealed disdain. “Am I interrupting, fratello?”

“Oh, we just met,” you explain. “I wasn’t aware there was anyone else living here.”

“This is just my brother,” he states. “Don’t mind him, he is ugh… hanging around.”

Terzo scoffs dismissively. “I am actually also working here–”

“I thought you were not my new bellhop, fratellino?”

“I help with the guest room renovations. Really, I am the eh… interior designer, you could say.” He grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips with a smirk. “Anyway, it is a pleasure to meet you, tesoro. How lovely to have a youthful presence in this old house.”

“Likewise. I actually wasn’t aware this was a hotel also.”

“It is not,” Mr Emeritus explains, taking a few steps into the room now. He looks incredibly handsome today, wearing his usual black slacks as well as a black button down shirt, sleeves rolled up and the collar open just enough to reveal some of his chest. “We are going to host some of the guests who submit to long travels in order to attend the wine tastings. Now, I was looking for you. I think you need a tour of this place, grappolino, no?”

Terzo dismisses you with a gentle smile, waving after his brother when you both leave the kitchen. Mr Emeritus briskly walks ahead, leading you down a long hallway.

“Were you going to eat?” he asks. “I interrupted.”

“No, I wanted a cup of tea. But I can just have that later.”

He hums, then leads you up a staircase to show you where the guest rooms are going to be located. You see some of the monks again, carrying furniture, painting walls, cleaning rugs. They don’t acknowledge your presence, only step aside when you pass.

“Mr Emeritus–” you start.

“You can call me Secondo,” he interrupts. “Since you are already calling my brother by his first name.”

You’re not sure if you’re imagining the hint of jealousy tainting his voice. He certainly did not look too pleased when he entered the scene earlier. “Secondo and Terzo,” you say. “Like the numbers?”

“My father was not very creative when he procreated like a dog in heat. He argues that he followed an old Italian tradition which is just convenient, no?”

You make a mental note that his father is not a good subject to broach just as he leads you back into the main staircase. “Can I ask you something else?”

“I understand you must have many questions. Feel free to pose them whenever you wish.”

“Well, the biggest one I have is… uhm…” You pause but he does not seem bothered at all. “Who are the hooded men? They look like monks but also not like any real monks I’ve ever seen before.”

“They are something similar.”

“Like a cult? Is that why they don’t talk?”

“No, grappolino, not a cult. We call them the Nameless Ghouls.” His voice is even and patient considering the amount of questions you’re shooting at him. As you walk down the stairs you notice that he is not even remotely out of breath while you’re already struggling to keep up. “They are bound to certain rules of their community such as to not speak to outsiders. They work for me because they were summoned to do so for which I am very grateful. I have arranged one of the former guest houses on the property where they live amongst themselves.”

You furrow your brow, a little confused as to how much of a red flag that should be for you. Ghouls, the religious painting, the upside down cross on his brother’s chest… it does seem suspiciously like a cult. His pace is so fast that you almost stumble down the stairs now. “Do I… do I also have to join them?”

“Oh, no, non preoccuparti. They have nothing to do with you.”

“So they just… help out here?”

“Sì. They make all of this possible.”

“I mean, if they want to live like that, I guess that’s okay.”

He stops in the middle of the staircase. You almost stumble into his strong back, catching yourself on the railing just in time. “I assure you it is all consensual, grappolino. They are free to leave and do as they please. Just like you. Nothing here happens without great enthusiasm.”

You look at him, toying with the hem of your shit nervously now that his gaze is back on your body. Enthusiasm does not sound like he is talking about work but at least it also doesn’t sound like a cult. “This word, is it a good thing?”

He chuckles. “It is a… how do you say? Pet name?” Suddenly he takes the step that separates you, inching closer until his face is right in front of yours. “Do you want me to stop?”

Your eyes widen. “Oh, no. No, I like it. I was just wondering… is it a common name?”

“No, it is not common.”

You stare through his glasses, trying to make out the expression in his eyes. Is he flirting with you? Is he making fun of you? The tension is unbearable but you cannot be sure if he feels it as well with half of his face hidden from your sight. You have half a mind to take the glasses from his face.

“If you follow these stairs all the way down,” he finally says, stopping you from any foolishness, “you will reach the wine cellar. It is the door at the bottom, right next to the main entrance.”

“That’s… that’s where all the treasures are kept?”

His mouth curls into a rare smile. “Not all the treasures.”

“Can I ask another question?”

“Certo.”

“Do you have the same eyes as your brother?”

He cocks his head to the side, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “You will have to find out, grappolino.”

You swallow, about to take a foolish step closer to him when he suddenly backs away. His face is out of reach before you can even attempt to rid him of the sunglasses and he’s halfway down the next flight of stairs when you finally catch yourself.

“Now let me get you some tea and some food also,” he calls, not even making sure whether you’re following. “You have to eat a lot of iron and vitamins to increase blood production. We don’t want you to get anemic, hm?”

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Vampire Gazette 02/07

A group of rogue werewolves attacked two unsuspecting vampires in the Styrian mountains last Monday. The perpetrators fled the scene after they did not manage to kill their victims and attracted the attention of a nearby group of vampires. Both victims fully recovered in the span of two days while further circumstances of the incident still escape the authorities. Unnamed sources claim that one of the vampires is an old acquaintance of Primo Emeritus. Since last Wednesday, speculations on Social Media suggest that the incident could be connected to the death of a lycanthrope in May in which the former Papa was supposedly involved. Neither the authorities nor the Emeritus family were willing to give statements to confirm or deny these rumors.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Secondo is not proud of slipping into your room that first night. He’s not proud when he sees you sleeping so peacefully, trusting that you are safe in his care. You look lovely, young, the picture of innocence and trust. A human so lively, so curious and quick-witted. There is an intelligence in you that is way beyond your years and maybe it is the very reason why you so foolishly trust him – you’re not superstitious.

Before he drinks from you, he inspects your quarters. Sheer curiosity, he tells himself, he always liked to learn. Your bookshelves are filled with all sorts of genres – classics, romantic novels, thrillers, horror, historical fiction, non-fiction. What is most telling however are the books on your bedside table. He finds the same copy of Carmilla you carried in your bag, a book about wine making you must have recently ordered and another book that looks suspiciously like a cheap erotic novel. Maybe not so innocent, he thinks, wondering how he would find you if he came in here a few hours earlier, just before your bedtime.

Secondo is not proud when he slips into your room again a few days later. He’s not proud when he does it again and again and again until one day he notices the first signs of anemia in you and gives you a week of reprieve that has him shaking like an addict. At least he found the strength to be careful now, exerting the control he lacked when he tried that first bag of blood, barely puncturing your neck with one of his fangs and drinking as slowly as your blood flow dictates. He does not want to hurt even a hair on your head, does not want you to wake up the next morning with a wound like an animal attacked you and get suspicious. No, he needs you to stay here and stay well, a source of food, a source of joy.

Still, the moment he drapes himself over your sleeping body and your blood hits his tongue it takes all of his strength to stay calm, to suppress the moans spilling from his lips, to stop himself from growing hard against your sleeping body and humping you like a horny teenager. Just a late night drink, nothing else, a meal to sustain him throughout the night. The restraint he displays is impressive even to him. It goes against all of his predatory instincts that tell him to simply drain you, to consume you until you have nothing left.

No, Secondo is not proud of any of it. And he slowly starts to realize that it is not stealing your blood that affects him in such a way that he struggles to keep his eldritch powers measured, to ensure that you stay asleep when he feeds. The kiss of a vampire can be impactful even for the vampire himself, at least when other feelings are involved. So no, it is not your blood that breaks his resolve, that makes it so hard to treat you like any other food source.

It’s the feeling of your skin against his lips.

August

Every day in the vineyard feels like a dream.

You never realized how much your job at the kiosk and living in your tiny flat with nothing but the bare essentials had drained you of the joy of living, how it had put you into a sluggish rhythm of loneliness and unfulfilling work – not until you started to see a different life for yourself, that is. Perhaps Secondo was right when he told you to try out different ways to enjoy yourself all these months ago, perhaps he saw how stuck you were before you got here. Your growing crush on him certainly helps to envision a happier future for yourself in this place.

Your favorite thing are the quiet afternoons with him. Usually, you never see Secondo or his brother before two o’clock. It seems like they are night owls – it is not a rare occurrence that you spot light underneath his office door well into the late hours when you head to the kitchen to grab a cup of tea. In the mornings, you get most of your work done, usually helping out with wine orders that the Nameless Ghouls pack and a post truck picks up around noon. In the evenings, you help out at the Vinothek, taking care of the shop or waiting on people while Secondo tends the bar. But the afternoons? The afternoons are priceless.

Secondo and you usually get comfortable underneath the pergola in the mansion’s courtyard. While he prefers to sit in the shade you have opted for a sunny spot. First you share a break with some afternoon coffee for which his brother usually joins you, then, once Terzo leaves, he starts to teach you everything he knows about wine and wine making. As expected, he is a most patient teacher who takes great delight from your genuine interest in the subject. Today, he is talking to you about different grape varieties and their differences in taste.

“Sangiovese is a red variety,” he explains. “Very common and the base for many wines that I have shown you, grappolino. Chianti, for example.”

“Like in the Silence of the Lambs.”

“Sì, like that one.”

“Have you ever had it with liver?”

“You see, my dove, Chianti is actually not a good wine to have with liver. Amarone would be much better suited, or some lesser known ones. Dr Lecter would have known that, in the book he did.”

You have to smile at that. Of course he would take note of such things while watching a movie or reading a book. While he continues on his lecture on Sangiovese, you breathe in the rich scents that waft over the courtyard, carried by a gentle summer breeze. For a moment you turn your face into the sun, letting the warm rays caress your features. Mild summer days are your favorites, being outside in a simple shirt without freezing or sweating too much. When you turn back, you notice Secondo watching you. When you smile at him he cocks his head to the side, still observing you without shame. As though he only notices now, he suddenly turns away and reaches into his pocket. When his hand comes back into view it holds a silver flask and he makes a face when he takes his first sip.

“Not good?” you ask, chuckling.

He shrugs, giving a dismissive hum. “I am… used to drinking better things these days.”

“What’s in it?”

“A new drink I have been working on. I try to sample it throughout the day.”

“Can I try?”

“No, grappolino, it is not ready for that yet.”

“You will tell me when it is, though?”

He smiles, a genuine, almost soft smile that you see on him more often now when you’re just among yourselves. “I will, little dove. You are always so eager to learn and try new things.”

The compliments he gives you, if rare, are always meaningful. They manage to fluster you every single time and you subconsciously start to scratch at your neck again. This has been going on for some time now – a few mosquito bites that never stop tingling and as soon as you touch them they start to torment you.

Secondo eyes you, brow furrowed, as if to ask why you’re fidgeting so much. The itch won’t leave, however. At this point it’s hard not to just give in and scratch until it’s bleeding and hope that it will just heal off.

“Mosquito bite,” you explain. “I’ve had them since I got here. Somehow they love to drink from my neck.”

“It is a very tender spot, no? Well supplied with blood.”

“Hm, I think so.”

You scratch until it hurts, then you force yourself to stop. Meanwhile, a distant noise becomes louder and louder until a truck enters the courtyard. Its loud beeping as the driver turns around and goes into reverse hurts your ears to the point where you cover them.

“Oh, I quite forgot about that,” Secondo says and stands up.

You watch from the pergola how a few of the Nameless Ghouls appear and carry boxes as well as barrels of wine outside loading the truck. Secondo further rolls up the sleeves of his button down shirt to help, carrying boxes until there is not much space left. The Ghouls bring three more barrels and you watch in utter fascination when Secondo picks one of them up like it weighs nothing more than a feather, placing it inside the cargo area. A minute later the truck takes off to his destination and the Ghouls disappear.

“This… was this a full barrel?” you ask, still in shock, the moment Secondo joins you again.

“Oh, no, of course not.”

“Why would you deliver an empty one?”

He eyes you, sitting down, not even out of breath. How is he so fit? You never see him working out. “Always so many questions, grappolino. So curious.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” you say with a shrug.

“Some people buy them,” he says at last. “For eh… decoration purposes.”

You eye him skeptically. Even carrying an empty barrel would take a lot of strength. At the same time, you assume, he has been carrying boxes and barrels and heavy pieces of furniture for years now. When he reclines against his chair, you again take notice of how pale he is.

“You should wear sunscreen,” you say. “You look like the pale type that burns easily.”

“I am Italian, my dove. I am not the pale type.”

“Still, sunlight is the main cause of skin aging and skin cancer.”

“Are you telling me I look old, grappolino?”

“After you just carried all these things old is the last word on my mind that I would use to describe you, no.”

A smirk tugs at his lips but when you take out your sunscreen, waving it in front of his face, he still allows you to apply some to his cheeks, chin and forehead. You think that any excuse to touch him is worth it, even if it means acting like a mother hen to a significantly older man. Despite your inner desire, you don’t let your hands linger on his face. Touching him feels vaguely forbidden, even with his consent and over the greasy layer of sunscreen. Your shaky hands certainly betray the nervous flutter in your body and when you sit back down on your chair, your stomach is in uproar.

Yes, these afternoons are your highlights because with every day you feel like you take a precious step closer to him. And if you’re really lucky and he’s not too busy he takes you back to his private kitchen afterwards to give you your own little tastings, introducing you to flavors your tongue has never met before. One month in now, you can honestly say that the decision to come here was the best one you ever made in your life.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Vampire Gazette 04/08

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Don’t miss when the new special varieties of the world famous Papastrello wine are introduced. Now with a hint of blood and many more flavors.

What? Food, Wine, Socializing

Where? Emeritus Vineyard

When? September 29th

⛧ ✦ ⛧

It is a subtle art to manipulate the taste of blood. You have to feed your prey the right flavors of food and pour the perfect drinks down their throats to influence the aroma in just the right ways. Too much alcohol and the blood is ruined, too much sugar and it tastes like cheap supermarket wine. Secondo has refined his approach over the past centuries to match his personal preferences.

“Grappa,” he says, pushing the thin-stemmed glass in front of you. “A young one.”

You sway the glass underneath your nose, inhaling the sharp scent. There is not much you could deduce from the smell, not with your human senses, but he appreciates how you always try to use them regardless of how futile the results.

“It is distilled from the pomace after the winemaking,” he explains as he watches you nip. “Nothing goes to waste.”

You smile. “That is a very progressive view.”

“I think it is a very conservative view. Traditional, if you will.” He raises his brows, waiting for your reaction. “Do you like it?”

“It’s nice, it burns in all the good ways.”

“It used to be the drink of farmers,” he explains, filling your glass again. “Until technology progressed in the last century. The taste improved a lot, now it is very popular. I learned how to make it in Northern Italy not too long ago.”

“Were you always a winemaker?”

“No.” He does not elaborate, though his brow furrows as the ghost of distant memories tries to haunt him. The flicker is gone as fast as it came. “Come here, grappolino.”

You do, walking over to where he is sitting and stopping right in front of his chair. He grabs your hand with his gloved one, the back facing upwards before he takes some of the grappa and spreads it on your skin.

“Go on,” he says. “Take in the aroma.”

The scent that hits your nose is pleasant, much more pleasant than the taste. When you are done, looking back at him, he reaches out for your hand and brings it to his own nose, holding your gaze. His lips graze your skin when he sniffs and you think you’re about to combust, your whole body tingling nervously at the unexpected touch.

“Impurities show in the smell,” Secondo explains, remaining unfazed. “Of course, this one does not have any. It is perfect.”

“Of course,” you repeat and when he looks at you with his intense discolored eyes, you’re not sure if he meant the grappa. “So… is that true for people as well?”

His brows rise, a smile tugging at his lips as he nuzzles your hand. “Hm, I don’t smell any impurities in you.” A pause in which you stare at each other, unmoving, unblinking. “Unless they are…” His hand slides up your arm, agonizingly slow. Fingers sprawl out on your cheek, cradling your face before he taps his index finger against your temple. “In here.”

“I can’t say my thoughts are very pure when I’m around you, no.”

Your admission, so readily given, hits him like a gut punch. His cock jumps in his pants, swelling until his slacks are uncomfortably tight. It’s not like hasn’t daydreamed about making you come in a hundred different ways, about having you sprawled out underneath him in the very bed you first opened your eyes to him, to have you begging for him, showing him just how obedient and good you can be when it really counts. Right now, he wants to bend you over one of the wine barrels and have his way with you until you’re crying out his name, until every bit of boldness leaves your body and you’re at his mercy in more ways than one. He wants to teach you the sin of lust until you’re fluent in its very language.

“You’re the first human in a long time that’s tempted me,” he admits with a sigh, pulling his hand from your face. “But the sinner knows temptation when he sees it. I won’t fall, little dove.”

You chuckle, leaning further back against the edge of the table. “The first human? That sounds ominous.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “You should thank Satan for the gift of ignorance. I know you like to ask questions but sometimes it is better not to know.”

“Secondo,” you whisper and then you’re closer, your leg touching his knee. It is evident by the way your blood rushes to your face that you can see the predicament in his pants. He makes no attempt to conceal it. “I don’t know what it is that you think you need to protect me from. But I just wish… I just wish…” You visibly swallow. Then your tongue darts out to wet your lips, slowly, sensually. “If you’re a sinner, then why not sin?”

It is foolish of him to allow you to slide into his lap. Even more foolish to place his hands on your hips and pull you closer, to feel your soft flesh against his thighs. Your hands land on his shoulders, delicate, curious fingers that feel him without shame. They stay there until you sit so comfortably that you don’t need the support anymore at which point they start to travel – over his chest, down to his belly, back up over his bare forearms. The skin contact is more intoxicating than the grappa. You’re always so warm.

It is only when they reach his face that he flinches. You stop immediately, trying to meet his gaze through his glasses. He takes a deep breath. You’ve seen Terzo’s eyes, there is no reason why you would be spooked by his now. And yet–

“Please?” you whisper.

He knows that meeting your gaze with no barrier is going to bring him to his limits. It is a last safety measure, a shield to prevent you from seeing into his soul and to stop him from falling into yours. Curious, beautiful eyes who have seen way more of him than he ever wanted to bare. Still, it seems like you have softened the hard edges of his resolve. More and more of him trickles from the cracks and he can’t quite figure out how to mend the leaks.

His cautious nod is all it takes for you to take the frame of his glasses and carefully pull them off his face. You hold his gaze so bravely, even as you set them down on the table. The quiet that follows is agonizing even to him. His muscles tense and even though he tries not to blink, he’s the first one to do so.

“You do have the same eyes,” you finally whisper.

“Runs in the family.”

“Ah.”

Those soft fingertips dance along his jaw now, tracing the lines on his skin as though you’re drawing a map. He allows you to get to know his face, even allows your palm to cup his cheek when you gain more courage. The warmth spreads inside of him like a flame, kindling his deepest, most carnal desires that used to be latent for so long.

It terrifies him and yet he craves nothing more than to give into the pull of their current.

“Secondo,” you whisper, his name laced with all of your needs, and then you’re leaning in.

He already feels your hot breath against his lips, your thumb swiping along his sharp cheekbone, and he can’t help but admire your boldness. It would be so easy to give in and accept his fate, accept that he is not as immune as he thought. But to do so would be to admit to his feelings and the consequences, the pain this would cause you both, is not worth a fleeting moment of passion.

He turns away at the last second, your nose brushing against his, even as your lips miss. You pull back, looking at him with your heavy-lidded, lust-filled eyes. It takes everything in him not to grab you. Confusion ices over your features then and he uses the moment to gently push you off his lap until you land on your feet again.

“Go to bed, grappolino,” he says and to his own shame he can’t meet your eyes as the words leave his mouth.

Even so he catches the hurt of rejection that flickers over your face. He can already smell the salty tears gathering in your eyes, even as he fully turns away and starts to clean the table. Your footsteps retreat with no argument, no witty comeback, not even an insult or a sound of annoyance. He almost wishes that you would have slapped him.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

When he sneaks into your room that night dried tears stain your velvety cheeks. They present him with a feeling he has not dealt with in centuries – guilt.

He falters, thinking that he should not feed from you tonight, not after refusing your intimacy earlier when you offered it to him so willingly. And yet, perhaps even more now, he wants to feel your skin against his as if to offer you the comfort he cannot give by day. Against his better judgment he settles in bed next to you, facing you this time instead of just taking your neck from behind. You’re sleeping on your side, one cheek squished to the pillow, the other one available to him. Secondo pulls at his gloves and gently strokes along your cheekbone, gathering what little wetness remains. You’re warm. So warm.

With some effort he leans over you, finding the spot on your neck and reopening the wound with his fangs. As he begins to drink, his arm wraps around you, pulling you into a more comfortable position. It is the closest thing to a hug.

The contrast between you and him hits him with full force in that moment. He’s not sure why you’re not afraid of him. Most humans sense the presence of a vampire. Unaware as to what the threat is, they still usually feel unease or a vague air of danger. Perhaps you have no sense of self-preservation or perhaps you truly just don’t fear him. Perhaps you’re one of the few people who are unaffected, too curious for your own good.

Or perhaps you were simply made for him. Perhaps Lucifer made your paths cross for a reason.

The thought of having you, of leaning into what has been building between the two of you is terrifying but thrilling at the same time. With your blood in his mouth it is easy to imagine claiming you, revealing himself to you, bringing you into his world and showing you its magic.

He’s not sure how you sense his line of thinking but in that moment you start to shift, moving against him like you’re trying to get closer. He slips, losing grasp on his powers for just a moment but it is enough to make you rouse. You don’t fully wake but your sleep lightens and with a tired sigh you cuddle up to him, tilting your head so he has even better access. An arm wraps around his middle, fingers playing with the hem of his black shirt until they graze his bare midriff.

“Secondo,” you whimper.

It awakens something inside of him he has not felt before, not a sexual feeling but a thrum somewhere close to his heart. Need is dripping from your voice, the smell of your arousal hits his sensitive nose, and he’s sure you must be dreaming about him now. Before he knows it he has sunk both of his fangs into your neck and is sucking the blood oozing from the wound. His senses explode, the feeling of your skin on his fingertips, your taste, the way you sigh and seek out his embrace. Lust he can handle, hunger he can handle, but these feelings run deeper, digging below the surface and clawing their way into his very core.

Suddenly it’s all too much. He pulls away from your abused neck, already discolored and swollen, and the sight of what he’s done is enough to propel his overwhelm and guilt into new heights. Secondo slips from the bed and before he knows what he’s doing he finds himself back in his own bedroom. He throws his gloves to the side and stares at his shaking hands. Hands that held you not five seconds ago. Hands that are already yearning to hold you again. His body is buzzing with the need to be close to you, trying to chase the feeling he had when you clung to him, and he hasn’t felt this alive in centuries.

He slides to the ground, leaning against his bed and staring through the window at a growing, nearly full late August moon. What he should be focussing on is the Vinothek, the preparations for the event not even a full month in the future, the growing tensions with the werewolf community and the upcoming wine harvest, not playing around with his little human.

Secondo licks along his teeth, grazing his fangs, but the taste of your blood won’t fade from his mouth, no matter how many times he swallows and swallows and swallows. It remains there, a phantom of you to remind him of his folly. He knows he won’t find any peace tonight.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

When you dream of him this time, it sets your body on fire. Your imagination, in comfort or torture, brings him into your bed where he wraps himself around your body and kisses your neck with reckless abandon. It seems to last all night but at the same time you feel like you’ve only slept for an hour. Waking up is like being ripped from paradise and cast back into the raging horrors on earth. At first you think you still feel his lips on your neck but the sensation turns into a dull pain, not that of a love bite but that of a hammer repeatedly hitting your skin. You remember his rejection from last night and promptly feel like throwing up.

With your mind still stuck in the fragments of the dream, you enter your bathroom to splash your face with some cold water. The pain on your neck has reached into your whole shoulder area by now and you pause when you spot your reflection. A huge purple bruise has spread over the area around the bite. How–

It would not be the first time your body has let his frustrations out on yourself in sleep. Maybe you scratched the mosquito bite too hard, maybe that’s why you dreamed about him kissing your neck in the first place. At any rate, what you really need right now is a cup of coffee and some painkillers.

Without as much as changing you quickly head downstairs. The house is eerily quiet as usual, the morning has just begun after all and the sun is creeping up over the horizon. Every window you pass reveals a spectacular view of the vineyard with its rows and rows of wine dipped into the soft orange light of a late summer sunrise.

The sight helps improve your mood somewhat. Though that is quickly reversed when you reach the kitchen. You’re already halfway to the coffee maker when you jump after spotting Secondo sitting at the large kitchen table. His own cup of coffee sits in front of him as he reads the paper and you’re wondering if he never went to bed in the first place.

Of course he has already detected you, eying you curiously. He’s not wearing the glasses, you note, only his gloves, a simple black polo shirt that draws your attention back to his forearms. Quickly, you avert your gaze and focus on the machine in front of you, your face hot in shame for your silly attempt to kiss him as well as your dream.

“Buon giorno, grappolino,” Secondo says, closing the newspaper he’s spread out in front of him and folding it neatly. You can’t read his expression, not even with his eyes revealed to you.

“Good morning,” you say. “You are up early.”

“Sì. We get some important deliveries today.”

The noise of the espresso machine drowns out your hum of acknowledgment and briefly ends the conversation. However, Secondo’s gaze lingers on your neck and you realize that you’re still only in your loose sleeping shirt and pajama bottoms, the bruise in plain sight.

“It’s… it’s not a hickey.” You’re not sure why you’re saying it. It’s not like you could have got one in the span of the few hours that you’ve been separated. “I don’t know how I got it, probably scratched too hard in my sleep.”

He doesn’t reply, not with words, but there is something in his expression that is wholly foreign to you. His brow is furrowed, his lips slightly parted, and without his glasses you can see a range of emotions reflected in his eyes. If you didn’t know any better you’d think it’s a mixture of shame and guilt. He doesn’t stay long enough to let you see more.

September

Harvesting wine is a brutal job. That is what you’ve been told, anyway.

Hand-picking the grapes instead of using machinery protects the soil, Secondo told you, which is why the Nameless Ghouls head out every morning and every evening to gather them manually while the sun sits low on the horizon.

“The grapes have to stay cool,” he told you when you asked him why they left at four in the morning each day. “It reduces the risk of bacterial infections.”

You watch the bustle from your window, how they start at the bottom of the hillside and make their way up, row after row with buckets and containers on their backs. Once their shift is over, they bring the yield back into the courtyard where they prepare it for further processing.

It seems like they never get tired.

Most days, Secondo and Terzo either help them pick or they take care of pressing the grapes. Things stay a little awkward, at least for you. Secondo does not really acknowledge that anything happened at all and since the whole vineyard is busy with the harvest while you’re stuck in the office or in the shop, restocking shelves, checking inventory, taking care of shipments, you hardly even see him. On one hand, his rejection still hurts, but on the other hand you’re relieved that he has not fired you or had any other negative reactions to your advances. It would not be the first time you meet an emotionally repressed man who pushes you away. Not the first time you calm your anxiety by nurturing your foolish hopes that maybe one day he will find it in him to like you back.

You learn that the harvest has to go over quickly before the grapes are overly ripe. It’s no surprise when they’re done after no more than three weeks. The cold storages are filled with grape juice just like the wooden barrels in the wine cellar where it now rests, fermenting slowly over the next few months until it turns into wine.

With the harvest done, focus shifts to the upcoming tasting event. When you don’t see Secondo chasing the ghouls through the guest wing for some last minute changes to the interior, you usually know he’s busy in the wine cellar, entrenching himself in one of the back rooms which he told you are not for nosy little doves. You’re sure he’s working on his new wines, perfecting the secret recipes. He prefers to work undisturbed in silence, so whenever he is busy down there he has you stock the mini bars in the guest rooms, make floral arrangements to decorate the sitting rooms or prepare small self-made gifts for the visitors. Anything to keep you occupied elsewhere.

You’re not sure if he really wants to work in solitude or if he’s just avoiding you.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Secondo never took himself for a coward.

He is a smart, calculated man who has a few centuries of experience under his belt that help him go through life mostly unscathed. He tries to anticipate risks and act accordingly and he might come across as cold or dismissive at times because of his measured choices. He hides, he protects, he does what he has to do. But he is not a coward.

He is not a coward but since that night, he has not drunk from you.

It bears the question if avoidance and cowardice are two sides of the same coin. If he can’t win either way. The impulse to ignore an issue is not exactly familiar to him but with the event coming up, with the harvest and goings-on at the vineyard it is easy to slip into a mode of focus that pushes you away by keeping busy.

If it weren’t for that hunger.

He’s drinking enough blood from his supply to sustain him but somehow it will not sate him in the way that your blood does. Even as he works with Terzo now, preparing the rooms for the guests that are arriving today and tomorrow, all he can think about is you. It certainly does not help that your smell lingers in every single room.

“Fratello,” Terzo pipes up behind him. “Did Primo say he would bring someone?”

“Hm?”

“He’s…” His brother snorts, pressing his greasy palms against the freshly cleaned window. “I swear to Satan, he’s with a human.”

“Di che parli?”

Secondo can’t help but join him, glancing out of the window like that one annoying neighbor everyone hates, scanning the courtyard in search of his older brother. Primo’s old Bentley has been parked at the far side beneath the beech trees. His long blond hair dances in the breeze behind him as he rounds the car and opens the door to the passenger seat. Someone else steps out, not a ghoul nor anyone else Secondo has ever seen before. The person holds his gloved hand and he immediately pulls them into his arms, wrapping his deep red cloak around them. He leans down to kiss them on the mouth, tenderly, taking his sweet time as he cradles them in his arms like they’re the most precious thing in the world.

“Ma che cazzo…” Terzo whispers. “The old man found someone before I did.”

“He’s with a human,” Secondo states.

“No shit, Sherlock, eh? Not all of us are anthropophobic.”

“I am not–”

“Satana, are they going to stop making out? That’s disgusting.”

“Stop spying, stronzino.”

He practically pulls Terzo from the window and forces him to welcome their brother in the entrance hall downstairs, as respect demands. They have to wait another five minutes until Primo appears, carrying two large suitcases, the human he brought with him entering alongside. They’re young. Very young in fact. Probably around your age, he can’t help but note.

“Fratello!” Terzo greets him exuberantly, opening his arms to him. Primo barely has enough time to set down the suitcases before Terzo’s lips press to his cheeks in two loud kisses. “You look well! And you brought someone, che sorpresa!”

“I am well,” Primo says as Terzo quickly moves on to the human, taking their hand delicately in his and bringing it to his lips. Meanwhile Primo faces Secondo who is still rooted to his spot behind the reception desk. “Grazie per l’invito.”

“Grazie per essere venuto,” he replies diplomatically. “It is good to see you, fratello.”

“To be honest, we need a place to stay for a while.” He turns to his companion who has since been freed from Terzo grasp, wrapping a possessive arm around their waist with a sort of love-sick expression that Secondo has never seen on him before. “This is my little flower, my greatest treasure. I want you all to meet.”

Terzo and Secondo exchange a quick look but before they can say anything the human speaks up. “It’s nice to meet you both. Primo told me a lot about you.”

“Only good things I hope, eh?” Terzo asks.

“They know,” Primo says then. “You don’t have to hide.”

“You told them?” Secondo asks, the shock evidently woven into his voice.

“Fratello, what is going on?” Terzo’s reaction is quite similar. “Werewolves, a human?”

In that moment Secondo’s senses detect you coming down the stairs. He shushes his brothers, nudging Terzo towards the suitcases in hopes of giving the appearance of a normal check-in. The last thing he needs right now is another human finding out.

“I told you I am not your bellhop,” Terzo complains.

You round the corner, then, and they finally pay enough attention to notice you as well. Secondo can’t help but take you in when you descend to their level. His eyes find your neck, the bruise mostly faded but even so the memory of that night is clear in his mind. That appetite inside of him stirs, the urge to have his lips on your skin again to taste not just your blood but all of you.

“Oh, hello,” you say, effectively bringing his attention back to the situation at hand. “I thought I heard voices. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, grappolino.” He has to force himself to stop staring at you. “The first guests have arrived. This is our brother, Primo, and his… partner.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“And who is this?” Primo asks, shooting Secondo a knowing look before he greets you with a gentle smile. “How lovely to see a new face in these old halls.”

Secondo introduces you, not without a hint of barely concealed shame. He can feel Primo’s eyes boring into him throughout, the accusation of hypocrisy very evident in his narrowed mismatched eyes. Of course Primo would see right through him. His older brother’s senses are even stronger than any of theirs. He would not be surprised if he still smelled him on you.

“Can you find a Ghoul to carry their luggage?” Secondo asks. “I would like to have a moment with just my brothers.”

“I won’t leave my flower,” Primo says, vehemently shaking his head.

“It’s okay,” they interject, running a soft hand along his arm. “I will just start unpacking.”

It is only with a great deal of reluctance that Primo follows him and Terzo into the kitchen and leaves his little flower to you. The eldest immediately finds the kettle and brings some water to boil. Old habits die hard, Secondo supposes. Serious conversations are only to be held over a calming cup of herbal tea.

“Cos’è successo?” Secondo ask once they all sit over their mugs. “With the wolf?”

“It was not done on purpose,” Primo says. “I was protecting someone I love. That is all you need to know.”

“The human?” The word comes out with much more venom than he anticipated.

“Ah and you are here to pass judgment?” Primo asks, giving him a withering look. “You?”

Secondo presses his lips together. “Not judgment. I am trying to understand why.”

“Is it so hard for you to imagine caring about someone? To love them so much that you would kill for them?”

”No, I–“

“I am not here to be questioned,” Primo interrupts. “You invited me to an event, no? That is what we are here for. If you allow us, we would like to stay a few more days until we can move into our new home. But apart from that, I do not wish any commentary on my life.”

“You are moving?” Secondo asks. “With the human?”

“Oh, don’t mind him, fratello,” Terzo chimes in. “He is just grumpy because he fell in love with a human as well but unlike you he already messed it up. We are very happy for you and your little flower.”

“I will not have this childish conversation,” Secondo says. “There are werewolves running amok because of this, attacking our kind.”

“And they will calm down,” Terzo says. “There are a few rogues, it is not the whole community.”

“Secondo, I know you are worried.” Primo’s voice lost the defensive tone, instead it sounds much more like the caring, diplomatic voice his brother is used to. “But I don’t need your protection. If any werewolf is foolish enough to attack us, they will face harsh consequences. I will defend what is mine and I urge you to do the same.”

Secondo lets those words sit for a moment. He has never felt protective of anyone outside of the family before but now the first person that comes to his mind is you. Would he have done the same, killing a werewolf to save you? Potentially rekindling a centuries-old conflict between two communities?

The answer comes surprisingly easy.

“Did you invite Copia?” Primo asks then. “He is not here?”

“Oh, he is busy playing Dracula somewhere in the Slovakian mountains,” Terzo replies. “He said not to expect him but to send him a few bottles.”

“He is not doing well.” Primo takes a long sip of tea. “It has been half a century.”

“Until father steps down this will not change,” Secondo says. “Copia has the rightful claim to the title.”

“Well, we had this argument before and it caused a family feud that made us vulnerable in the first place,” Terzo snaps. “The old stronzo doesn’t give a shit.”

“Let’s not get into this now,” Primo says. “We are here to celebrate that your business is doing well, Secondo. It will give the community something else to talk about for a while.”

This is as long as they manage to keep Primo from going to look after his flower, leaving them to stew over their own tea mugs they won’t be emptying. Secondo struggles to grasp what he learned today. Primo – the experienced, the wisest and most reasonable of them – is in love with a human. A young, kind, lovely human. And he is happier than ever before.

But perhaps that is not what is so hard to understand. Perhaps it is the fact that Secondo wishes he had the very same thing. Primo’s words still ring inside of his head. Is it so hard for you to imagine caring about someone?

The answer is no. He knows exactly what it feels like.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

The next twenty-four hours are the busiest since you came to the vineyard. Guest after guest arrives and Secondo puts you in charge of welcoming them. You’re behind the reception desk most of the night because apparently most of them traveled through the evening hours. By twelve pm on the very day that the event takes place the last guest arrives. He is a middle aged man with dark hair and kind brown eyes, looking far more average than the rest of the guests with their fancy clothes, aristocratic features and expensive cars. He reveals his name to you and you scan the reservation, finding him at the bottom as one of the last ones to book a room. There aren’t any left, so he must have got lucky.

“That would be the blue room, sir,” you offer, handing him the key.

He eyes your neck, then, and you’re not sure what he is looking at, if he can still somehow see the faint remnants of your bruise in the dim lighting inside. Before you can apologize for your appearance, he glances away again, smiling. “Thank you, little one. The blue room sounds lovely.”

“Let me ask someone to carry your luggage, sir.”

You’re ready to ring the bell and call for a Ghoul. However, the man stops you with a wave of his hand. “Oh, not necessary. I shall carry it myself. A little workout never hurt anyone.”

“Oh, okay.”

He’s already up the stairs when you’re distracted from the encounter. Secondo strolls into the entrance hall. He does not appear nervous, despite only having eight hours left until the event begins. Right now he’s dressed in a simple polo shirt, slacks, his usual gloves and sunglasses. You love it when he looks somewhat casual, at least to his standards. Still, you can’t quite revel in his handsome appearance. Since the tasting is so close now, your anxiety has risen to an uncomfortable level. He said he needed an extra pair of hands but he never specified for how long.

“Has everyone arrived?” he asks when he reaches the desk.

“Yes, the last guest just went to his room.” You eye him as he scans the list in front of you, not even taking notice of the state you’re in. “Actually, do you have a moment?”

He looks up, then, and you freeze. Even through the glasses meeting his eyes has the heavy impact of a gut punch. You’re surprised by how gentle his voice is. “Of course, my dove. What is it?”

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry,” you ramble before you can think twice about it. “I know, we were just being a little flirty with each other and that this is very different from actually attempting to kiss you. I feel very stupid now that I… that I misread the situation and I want to apologize. I love working here and I don’t want to lose it when the event is over. I enjoy being here, spending time with you and I don’t want to leave.”

“Grappolino, who said anything about leaving?”

You’re almost crying, tears pricking your eyes like a thousand needles. “You’re avoiding me. I just assumed that when you don’t need me anymore…”

He stops you by reaching for your hand, pressing his thumb into your palm. “You do not have to worry about this right now.”

“How can I not? You’ve been acting all sorts of weird with me.”

Secondo sighs deeply and you regret bringing it up now when he’s already stressed. But then he perks up as though something caught his attention. He pulls you into the door to the wine cellar by the stairs just when you hear voices and footsteps approaching. Blindly you stumble after him, shivering when you reach the cold stone masonry downstairs where he turns on an old, dim ceiling light. Down here it smells of fermentation, wine and vaguely of must. You lean against an old table, listening to the gurgling sounds of the carbon dioxide leaving the barrels.

“You won’t go, grappolino,” Secondo says, running his gloved hand over his face until he reaches his sunglasses and takes them off. “In fact it is I who should apologize for how I’ve been treating you. For things you don’t even know about.”

You stare into his odd eyes, the white iris almost glowing in the gloomy old cellar. He takes two steps until he’s right in front of you and you feel a cold shiver of anticipation running along your spine. You haven’t been this close since the grappa incident and the smell of his cologne makes you dizzy with need.

“My dove, you did not misread the situation. I very much wanted to kiss you.” He cages you in, resting both of his hands on the table at your sides. “And I very much want to do so right now.”

“Please,” is all you can say. “Please, Secondo.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up into a smug grin at your begging tone, the lines on his hollow cheeks deepening. He leans in until your breaths mingle, until you can feel his exhales tickling your lips. “We shouldn’t,” he whispers into the tight space. “It is foolish.”

And yet he does not pull away. His hooked nose nuzzles yours as if to savor the moment for just a bit longer. You dare to reach out and wrap your hands around his strong neck, playing with the collar of his shirt. He hums when your fingertips brush the tender skin at his nape and his own hand moves to cup your cheek, looking for more contact. The leather feels soft, hiding how his firm grip keeps your head in place. His eyes are stuck on your lips and you decide to close yours, mentally tracing the line of butterflies that flutter from your belly all the way up to your throat. Another hum leaves him when you part your lips in a sigh and then his thumb pushes your jaw up, tilting your head just right before his lips capture yours.

His mouth is cooler than expected, softer too. Secondo takes charge of the kiss in a way that makes you weak in the knees. Gentle but firm at the same time he moves his lips against yours, slowly increasing the pressure. You moan softly, clinging to him as your body sinks and sinks against him. His hands move to your hips to catch you and he easily sets you down on the table, stepping between your legs until you can feel his whole front against yours. He’s already half-hard and his outline is only growing against your stomach.

You snake a hand between your bodies, cupping his length through the tightness of his slacks. Secondo groans into your mouth, pushing his tongue between your lips with urgency. You kiss back with the same hunger, swollen mouths and eager tongues exploring each other to the last crevice. When you break away, saliva drips from the corner of your mouth to your chin and he licks it off, kissing from your cupid’s bow down to your jaw.

Before you can properly recover your breathing, Secondo’s hand toys at your lips and he slides two of his fingers inside your mouth. You receive them, allowing him to press down on your tongue.

“Get them wet for me, hm?” he murmurs into your skin. “My perfect little dove. So eager, so filthy, just waiting for me to fill you.”

You suck at the digits spurred on by his praise, swirling your tongue around their length while his lips firmly attach to your neck in a bruising kiss, just like in your dream. You struggle to keep your grasp on reality, lust and pleasure overwhelming all of your senses. When he finally pulls his hand from your lips you feel horribly empty. He gives you no time before he pushes his hand into your pants, not even playing with you before he immediately slides it in deeper. He finds your opening, fingers probing and widening before he slips one inside. You keen, grasping his shoulders for support and he adds a second one shortly after. The stretch is beautiful, thick, gloved fingers that he crooks expertly to hit that sweet sensitive spot inside. You think he moans louder than you at the contact, sinking against your body for a moment as the sensation hits him.

“You…” He shudders, groans deeply into your ear. “You’re so… warm.”

He gasps when you impatiently rut against his hand, rolling your hips in sync with the movements of his fingers inside of you. He helps you along, pumping his fingers in and out of you while still kissing your neck with his insistent mouth. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper, closer, until his hard cock rubs against your front at every thrust of his hand. Secondo grunts like a wild animal and then his teeth sink into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. A stinging pain shoots through you and you cry out in surprise. The feeling is not unpleasant, on the contrary – the pain mixing with your pleasure makes you wonderfully dizzy. He must have broken the skin because there is more wetness now than just his spit trickling down your throat. Secondo startles when he feels it, breaking away from your neck, and you can see blood staining his teeth and lips. “I’m sorry– I–”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “It’s okay, I like it rough. Don’t stop.”

His lips press to yours urgently. You moan, tasting your warm blood in his cold mouth, and you push your tongue inside even deeper for more. Secondo’s movements speed up. His fingers fuck you roughly until you can’t help but clench around them. It only takes a few more flicks of his tongue against yours, a few more strokes of his fingers until you’re tumbling over the edge. The moan that breaks from your throat echoes loudly in the old stone halls and you whimper pathetically at every thrust with which he carries you through your pleasure.

You notice that his hips still hump your front in sync with the last few pumps of his hand, chasing the friction of your body. He’s grunting, his open lips pressed to the corner of your mouth before they slide down to your neck. His tongue darts out to lick the remaining blood from your collarbone, eager strokes of his tongue that leave a wet trail over your skin before his lips close tightly around the wound. Suddenly he stills, releasing a drawn-out moan stifled by your wet skin and you feel his cock jumping inside of his pants when he cums. For a moment he holds you against him, removing his fingers to wrap both of his arms tightly around you.

“Perdonami, per favore,” he whispers, pressing a thousand soft kisses along your neck. “I hurt you. I hurt my little dove.”

“Don’t apologize,” you stress. “I like it rough, I would have told you if I didn’t.”

“That’s not…” He sighs. “No, I cannot hurt you. It has to stop.”

“Secondo.” He falters at the sound of his name, frowning at you. “I liked it. Please, don’t worry.”

He takes a shuddering breath, shaking his head vehemently. “Grappolino, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You smooth out the deep line between his eyes, caressing his features with all the tenderness you feel towards him. He slowly relaxes, resting his forehead against yours. For a while you stay like that, embracing each other, breathing each other in. Your heart beats strongly against your ribs, longing to reach him. You’re not sure if you’ve ever been this happy before.

“Secondo,” you whisper, nuzzling his nose with yours. “I think I’m in love with you.”

He freezes against you, his limbs going rigid. After a moment he pulls away to meet your eyes and there is such visible confusion etched into his features. His mouth opens slightly, revealing the edges of two sharp fangs, still dipped in your blood. His eye turns from a deep red to its usual green.

Suddenly, it all begins to fall into place. Perhaps you breathed in too many alcoholic fumes down here, perhaps you’ve finally lost your mind. But the way he lapped at your blood, the way he avoids the light, the bruising around your neck, the sunglasses and late nights, how you dreamed about him with blood staining his mouth, his eye glowing red–

“Secondo!” a voice calls down the stairs. “Sbrigati!”

His head whips around and he tries to break away. You attempt to keep him there, holding onto his shoulders, urging him to stay. “Secondo, are you… are you a–”

“We have to talk later,” he says, tearing himself away from you with ease. “We have to head to the Vinothek and get ready for the guests. I will wait for you in the courtyard.”

”But–“

He won’t hear you out. Before you can say another word he’s already upstairs.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Somehow you manage to get dressed. Your legs hardly carry you upstairs, weak from the force of what just happened as well as the sudden stress added on top. With your evening outfit already neatly laid out on your bed it doesn’t take you too long to get ready but you also can’t find any calm moment to gather your thoughts. Your suspicion spreads in your mind, carrying a hint of fear but also curiosity. You’re sure you’re slowly losing grasp on your sanity. It’s impossible. You’re not superstitious, on the contrary, you’ve always relied on your thirst for knowledge, on the fact that you learn fast, that you see through things and quickly understand them. But if your notion turns out to be true, you ran into the trap of a predator with open arms and a bared neck.

Even so, your suspicion doesn’t stop your cheeks from burning when you meet everyone in the courtyard, Secondo and his brothers already waiting for you in the shade of the pergola. When his eyes meet yours you feel a pull, a need unlike any you have felt before. You can’t help but wonder if you’re being manipulated, if this is all a mirage and he’s been toying with you all this time.

Real or not, their looks for the night take your breath away. What strikes you the most is how all three of them are wearing face paints that shape their features like skulls. They’re all slightly different but Secondo’s looks the most menacing, stressing the sharp edges of his jaw and cheeks. In contrast to that of his brothers his eyeshadow is glittery, sparkling in the light that meets his face.

Suddenly you’re wondering how the thought of them being vampires has never occurred to you before. Secondo looks quite like Count Dracula himself in his white button down shirt, a green brocade vest under a perfectly cut suit jacket, an emerald green bowtie, black slacks and leather brogues that match his gloves – the same gloves that were inside of you not even half an hour ago. Terzo’s outfit is quite similar only that his shirt has ruffles, the vest is a deep purple and he’s fixed a silver brooch on his collar that bears the upside down crucifix you’ve seen tattooed on his body. Primo is wearing a crimson brocade tailcoat, his long blonde hair curled at the edges while his partner’s outfit was carefully chosen to match his. They look like they jumped straight out of a classic horror movie – elegantly menacing, aristocratic and weirdly out of time.

During your ride to the Vinothek, you’re closely pressed to Secondo’s side on the backseat of a short limousine with darkened windows, driven by one of the Nameless Ghouls. Even dressed up you feel quite out of place. His strong thigh is pressed against yours, distracting you enough that the five minutes pass quickly. You stare at his hands resting in his lap, toying with the hem of his gloves, and you wonder if he wore the same pair on purpose.

At the venue, more Nameless Ghouls arrange tables and chairs in one of the side rooms that are usually empty. You feel pretty useless while the others discuss the tasting, so you refill the shelves in the store up front and distract yourself by preparing the bar for the evening. At some point Secondo approaches you behind the counter. “You can handle the hum-” He coughs. “The evening bustle while I lead the tasting?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Thank you, grappolino.” He stops, almost reaching for your hand but pulling back just before your fingers touch. He looks like he wants to say more, you want him to say more, but his lips stay sealed. It is odd to look at his painted face, a man you thought you knew, thought you were in love with. Now it is hard to say if any of it was real.

Once the first guests arrive, you’re tasked to show them into the event location. You know the actual tasting is going to take two hours with the subsequent chance to socialize. Once the door closes you get somewhat comfortable behind the bar. Throughout the night you only have to tend to two guests, the rest of the time you spend googling everything that you can about vampires on your phone. No helpful sites pop up, only a few intense subreddits about suspected vampire sightings that only serve to confuse you even more.

About two hours later, the door to the side room bursts open and Terzo storms past. He pulls at the door of one of the wine fridges, blindly reaching for one of the bottles. Secondo follows two seconds later, closing the door quietly behind him with a deep sigh. You step aside when Terzo reaches for a corkscrew, pulling the cork out like it’s nothing.

“You don’t know if it is true,” Secondo says, leaning in the doorway.

“Well, they’re not here,” Terzo says. “They didn’t come.”

“You should be glad they did not, fratello. It spares you the pain of another rejection.”

Terzo lifts the bottle and places it at his painted mouth, taking a long swig until the paint is smudged and his lips take on a deep crimson tone. He lets the taste sit for a minute, seemingly content before he starts to empty the bottle without pause.

“Fratello, you need to calm down,” Secondo warns him. “This is a wine tasting.”

“Yeah, so? Are you supposed to be boring at those?”

“They are a more… sophisticated sort of event. Come sai.”

“What I know, fratello, is that I’m here for a good time, just like everyone else. I want to have some actual damn wine and find someone to fuck later, sound sophisticated enough?”

“Terzo,” Secondo says. “You can’t fuck or drink the pain away.”

His brother frowns, grabbing another two bottles from the fridge. “Watch me try.”

You follow Terzo with your eyes as he pushes past his brother and disappears in the other room. Through the open door you can hear the bustle of people socializing, the clinking of glasses. “Will he be okay?”

Secondo closes the door and shrugs. “This is going to cost me a lot of wine. It is not easy to get him drunk.”

“So ugh… who didn’t come?” you dare to ask.

“His ex.” Secondo lifts his hand to rub at his eyes but thinks better just before they touch his make-up. “It is a long story. Someone told him they’re with someone else.”

“Secondo,” you try, now that you have him alone. “Actually, I’ve been wondering…”

“I need to look after him before he causes a scene. Can you do me a favor and get some of the orders sorted? The bottles are in the backroom. You can pack them in the usual boxes and bring them out back where one of the Ghouls will pick them up later.”

You want to argue with him, force him to listen to you, but he seems too tense to risk an attempt now. Instead you nod. “Where are they?”

“I will bring you the forms.”

With that he disappears into the side room as well. You’re curious, maybe too curious for your own good, but you just have to risk it and slip inside as well. The sight that meets you has you gasping. All of the guests have gathered around bar tables, wine glasses filled with a deep red liquid as they eagerly chat and drink. Even in the dimmed light you realize that this is not the same wine you’ve seen served at the bar, nor does the texture resemble any of the ones Secondo had you try. No, if it’s true and they’re–

A sudden sense of terror overcomes you, even more so as you notice the first curious pairs of eyes on you that you swear are a glowing red. They don’t look real, they don’t look even remotely human, and most of all they look hungry.

“You are too curious for your own good.”

Secondo is by your side immediately, blocking your view before he ushers you out of the room. You let him carefully manhandle you until you’re outside of the door, still petrified from what you just saw, from the sudden horror fantasies your mind conjured up.

“The orders,” he says, pressing the documents into your hand before he gently cups your cheek. You’re panicking, maybe. Or perhaps you’re not breathing at all. “My dove.”

“Hm?”

“Are you alright?”

You nod, telling yourself that this can’t be true. It simply can’t. You’re seeing ghosts, your brain has taken hold of an idea and ran wild with it. This is the real world, not one of the many novels you read. Secondo is right here, looking just like always, his iris green and not glowing at all.

“I’m sorry for busting in,” you say, realizing your silly mistake now. “I just… God, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m losing my mind.”

“Grappolino, I promise we will talk tomorrow. First we have to get this done, yes?” His thumb swipes over your cheek, so gently that you decide to believe him. “I will meet you once the guests leave and we will talk about what happened today.”

“Alright.” You nod, leaning into his touch. “I’ll… I’ll take care of the orders.”

He must know of your suspicion, he must know. His eyes tell you that he’s not going to let you leave, that he has an eye on you if you want to or not. For some reason you still feel safe knowing that he’s here, his touch nothing but comforting. His nod is barely noticeable but he does let go of your face eventually to go back inside.

For a few minutes you have to hold onto the wall, slowly breathing in and out, trying to calm your racing heart. Perhaps it’s the lack of proper sleep. You spent most of last night checking in guests, only getting a few hours of rest in the early morning.

This is ridiculous, you tell yourself, vampires aren’t real.

Once you’ve recovered, you start to pack the boxes, distracting yourself with the basic, monotonous work that is packing order and updating inventory. You’ve already carried a couple of boxes outside into the alley behind the Vinothek when your sneaking suspicion grows stronger again. There is an easy way to find out whether they were really drinking blood. One way to prove to yourself that you’re overreacting.

Without thinking you rip one of the boxes back open. The bottles look like any other wine bottles. Papastrello, the label says in gold-foiled lettering that is all too familiar by now. The only difference is the upside down cross that is stamped into the paper. The bottles are about the same weight, the dark glass no different from the other wine bottles you’ve seen. The only way to know for sure is to open it, to look at the wine itself.

In that moment you’re too scared to head back inside, too scared that someone is going to sense your suspicion and either laugh about your paranoia or possibly harm you for finding out what no one should know. You feel quite unhinged when you grab the bottle and smash it on the concrete of the sidewalk. What splashes out and mixes with the shards of glass is a red liquid that might be wine or might be blood, you can’t quite tell. The pale light of a full autumn moon reflects in the color, making it much paler than it looked inside. You know that you have to try it to know for certain whether it is wine or not.

It takes you a long moment of persuasion, silently debating with your inner voices until you reach out and wet your finger. On your skin, the liquid feels wrong, thicker, creamier, but also not quite like blood. You swallow your fear and bring it to your lips.

The moment your finger hits your tongue a deafening growl echoes in the street behind you. The sound is predatory, animalistic, ringing inside your ears long after it stopped. The hairs on your arms stand in alert as you turn around, expecting an aggressive dog or perhaps even a wolf straying from the woods. But what meets your eye is anything but. The creature is huge, filling the width of the whole alley with its broad shoulders and even as it cowers, resting on his two huge clawed hands, it’s almost as tall as the cars lining the main road.

The metallic taste on your tongue is forgotten the moment you spot it. Another growl and the beast jumps into action, galloping along the alley just as you scramble to your feet. Flight is hopeless, you barely take two steps in an attempt to sprint before its heavy steps are right behind you. Still you run and suddenly it seems like you’re making headway, the sounds gaining distance. You dare to turn around when you finally reach the end of the alley. What you see feels surreal, like a nightmare brought to life.

Secondo is standing between you and the monster who seems to have stopped, assessing the situation. Against all instinct you take a few steps back in their direction, watching the furry creature with its deformed but still somehow human body. Suddenly you recognize him, dark hair, the same brown eyes. It has to be the man who checked in this morning.

“You attacked the wrong human,” Secondo says. “This is not who you’re looking for.”

The creature does not seem in control of itself as it paces the road, sniffing audibly, baring its fangs to you in an attempt to intimidate and scare. Secondo stays in front of you, the image of a predator himself, but compared to the werewolf he looks small, almost fragile. Fear buries its way deep into your body. Suddenly you’re not worried for yourself anymore but for him. Your heart is hammering so fast that it echoes inside of your skull, your whole body sweating and shaking.

When the beast finally pounces, you shriek. Secondo grabs its massive arms to keep it at a distance but the werewolf tears at his clothing, ripping until its claws sink into his torso. His voice stretches into a pained scream that penetrates your whole body, deeper and deeper until you can feel it all the way into your marrow, rattling at your very core. The wolf is going to rip him to pieces in the blink of an eye. It’s going to kill him the moment he breaks his powerful hold.

You would never forgive yourself if he died because of you, if he got hurt trying to protect you. And maybe it is foolish, maybe you should let him handle the fight by himself, but you close the gap anyway until you can duck and reach into his pocket. Before you can think any of it through you’ve already sparked the flint and shoved the flame of his stupidly expensive lighter into the wolf’s fur. At first you think it is too dense to burn but then the beast starts yowling. The softer underfur has caught on fire, a disgusting sulphuric smell spreading around you. For a moment the wolf recoils in pain, letting go of Secondo who stumbles backwards. You’re trying to reach him but then the wolf deals one final blow, throwing his massive arms around his body. At the last moment, his paw smacks into your flank and pushes you down.

You land on the concrete, all breath brutally ripped from your lungs, and the intense pain of the impact explodes in your whole body. Secondo falls to the floor next to you with a heavy thud, dark non-human blood oozing from the cuts in his body. You hear more sounds as your vision slowly fades. Terzo is storming out of the back door, more people blurring into one big mass of faces behind him – and then you’re gone.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Vampire Gazette 04/09

Last night’s wine tasting at the Emeritus Vinothek ended in a brutal fight between the owner Secondo Emeritus and an unknown lycanthrope. The werewolf attacked a human employee outside of the establishment but could be stopped when the vampire intervened. He fled the scene while the other attendees took care of the victims. Both vampire and human escaped the fight slightly injured but are going to recover with no permanent damage, according to a spokesperson of the family. This is the tenth incident of violent conflict between vampires and werewolves in the past four months, following a surge of cases after the killing of a lycanthrope in May.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

“Here then, were all the admitted signs and proofs of vampirism. The body, therefore, in accordance with the ancient practice, was raised, and a sharp stake driven through the heart of the vampire, who uttered a piercing shriek at the moment, in all respects such as might escape from a living person in the last agony. Then the head was struck off, and a torrent of blood flowed from the severed neck. The body and head was next placed on a pile of wood, and reduced to ashes, which were thrown upon the river and borne away, and that territory has never since been plagued by the visits of a vampire. ”

You wake up to Secondo’s voice as he reads you the last few pages of Carmilla. Slowly noticing the world around you, you realize that you are in his bed in the mansion, the same soft white sheets surrounding your tired body that you found yourself in that first day. You keep your eyes closed, listening until the story is over.

“They always kill the vampire,” he says. “Perhaps they are right to do so.” A pause in which you hear the rustling of pages as he closes the book. “I know you are awake, grappolino.”

You turn around, opening your eyes to see him lying in bed next to you. The memories of what happened flood your brain, the way he protected you from the attack, saved you by risking his own life. You remember falling, the impact of the hit you took, and you’re surprised that you’re well, that you feel no pain other than the heaviness of your tired limbs.

“You slept almost a whole day,” he says. “I thought you might be angry with me. But I needed to watch over you.”

You take the book from his hand, running your palm over the smooth cover. Secondo looks tired, paler than usual and without the sunglasses you can see the extent of his exhaustion in his eyes. He’s wearing a dark green robe over black sweatpants, an altogether unfamiliar sight compared to his usual put together looks. No matter what happened, no matter what you now know, an intense surge of love for him floods your whole body and you can hardly shake it or push it down.

He saved you and you saved him. Everything else seems almost insignificant in that moment.

You shift so you can get closer and he watches you like a hawk, tracing all your movements. “My dove you shouldn’t move around.”

You don’t listen, you can’t, even as the soreness in your muscles makes it harder. Eventually you settle with your head on his belly, closing your eyes until the wave of emotion has crashed over you. He only seems half as frightening from here, in fact he looks incredibly soft as he gazes down at you.

“What do you think would happen,” you whisper, “if instead of killing we started loving them?”

He exhales – a pained, heavy sound that carries a distinct sadness. His expression shifts and he shakes his head, watching you with glossy eyes. “How can you say this when you know what I am? When you see what my world can do to you?”

“Because I feel it,” you say with no pause. “Because my heart screams that it does. I’m not scared.”

“Of course you are not. You never were.” His hand reaches out but he stops himself. “Per favore, may I touch you?” You press your face into the soft fabric of his robe, giving him a firm nod, and he gently strokes your hair, running his fingertips over your scalp, more to soothe himself than you. “I will never forgive myself for being late. That I missed the wolf in sheep skin because I was too distracted. When it hit you…” His hand stills and his lips press together tightly. After a moment he cradles your cheek, caressing your skin with his thumb. “I will protect you. I will never let any harm come to you, my dove. I swear it.”

You turn your face, leaning into his touch. “Why did he attack? To get to you?”

“I drank from you,” he says. “Imprinting myself on you. He must have thought you were Primo’s partner. Or perhaps he was just looking to hurt any one of us and went after the smell. There has been an ongoing conflict.”

“Vampire werewolf politics?”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Yes.”

“I’m so confused, Secondo. I have so many questions.”

“I know, my dove. I will answer them in time but you need to rest.” He sees your disappointed expression, running his hand along your lips now. “One question.”

“Your business…” you start. “Does this mean vampires don’t harm people? It’s not like they show us in all those movies? They drink from bottles and you get it from blood donations?”

He cringes slightly at your question, a painful twist, perhaps at the prospect of disappointing you. “Many vampires still… hunt. Some are more predatory, some are more subtle, some prefer to not hurt anyone. There are a million ways to feed, amore, and we have no laws to regulate this.”

“But why would they still hunt?” There is irritation, confusion in your tone. “If there are easier ways?”

“Some vampires enjoy the taste of fear in the blood,” he says. “A lot of adrenaline, stress hormones, it flows faster after biting too. Even here sometimes people are scared of needles and you can taste it later after taking their blood. But it is not as intense as it is when you… hunt.”

“Do you… do you like this taste?”

“No.” He falters, cocking his head to the side. “Not anymore.”

“But you have?”

There is a hint of accusation in your tone but he does not seem disturbed by it, on the contrary. “I will not lie to you. I have in the past, grappolino. Many young vampires do, a bit like teenagers who drink alcohol for the first time. But taste changes with time, as it does for humans, and I have left those wild, young days long behind me. In fact, since I tasted you…” He trails off, running his finger down your jaw until he strokes the faint remains of the bite on your neck. “I have no desire to hunt for a better taste.”

His words send a shiver through your body. His thumb presses back against your neck, then underneath your jaw, following the line of your pulse. Even knowing what he is and what he did – your body longs for his touch and you don’t know what to do other than give in. You press your cheek into the softness of his belly, the fabric of his robe smooth against your skin, trying to hide how easily affected you are. “So you were my mosquito? The bites were yours?”

“That is the second question.”

You furrow your brow, trying to pull away but he won’t let you. “Secondo–”

“You take me for a monster now,” he states. “And maybe I am, maybe I am cruel for wanting you for myself in ways that made me keep the truth, in fear that you could not accept me. But my feelings for you are real, they are consuming me more than any thirst for blood ever has. I am…” He swallows, his voice firm as he continues. “I am devoted to you forever.”

For a moment you let those words sink in. This is as close to a confession of his love that you got until now and you realize that it must take him everything to be so open with you. He seems to mistake your silence for rejection.

“I understand if you want to leave,” he says. “I will not stop you.”

You shake your head, finally managing to sit up and properly look at him. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t ever want to leave you.” He looks pained at your admission, like he has almost been hoping for a rejection. “Why are you so hesitant? Is it that unheard of to be with a human? Your brother is with one as well.”

“Every time I have opened myself to someone it ended in pain and it will end in pain with you, grappolino. Unbearable pain, loss, grief, loneliness.” He stops himself, his eyes red and glistening. “With you I have let the sun back into my life. And I cannot… I cannot bear to have the world take it from me again. Non credo che lo potrò sopravvivere questa volta.” (I don’t think I can survive it this time)

“It doesn’t have to, Secondo,” you assure him. “There are ways… there are ways to make it last, right?”

“There are ways. But this… it is not something to take lightly, amore.”

“Secondo, I want you to know that… that if it ever happens, if I ever die, I want you to turn me,” you say. “I don’t want to leave you, ever.”

He pauses, shaking his head at the conviction in your tone. “We will discuss this later. You need time to think about it, to learn more.”

“You saw how fast it can happen. I feel like–”

“Amore,” he interrupts. “Not now. The next time I think about your death it will not be in this bed.”

You sigh reluctantly, trying not to mope as you settle against his chest. If he has a heartbeat it is too slow and quiet for you to hear it. But his body underneath yours feels nice, soft and welcoming. You notice that he doesn’t seem to be in pain either.

“Why am I not hurt more?” you ask. “I know that’s another question.”

“We have healers in our midst. They have some influence on your circulatory system.” His hand moves to rest on your waist, playing with the hem of the loose white shirt someone put you in. “You will feel sore for a bit, I think. As will I after my body healed my wounds.”

“Would it… would it help if you drank from me?” you ask.

“You’re too weak, my dove, but I appreciate the offer.”

You sigh, bringing your hand up so you can run your fingers over the sliver of chest that peeks out of the robe. Slowly you open it more and more, toying with his dark chest hair and feeling the smooth skin underneath.

“What do you think you are doing, hm?”

You just smile up at him, pushing the robe all the way open. He doesn’t stop you from exploring more of his body, following the line of hair down to his belly, supple and slightly raised. His own hands start to grab more of your body then, squeezing the flesh on your hips, grabbing at your ass. Before you know it he takes hold and pulls you fully on top of him. Your core meets the outline of his hardening cock, barely concealed by the sweatpants. You gasp at the contact, slowly rolling your hips for a bit of friction.

“You feel good enough to tease me,” he says. “Then you feel good enough for a kiss?”

A smile breaks out on your face and you lean in, resting your upper body against his. Before your mouths can touch he has already grabbed you and sits you both upright. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer and trapping you in his lap until you can feel all of him. Only then does he allow you to close the gap. The kiss has a bruising force, lips pressing in hard, teeth clashing until you adjust and find a heavy but more controlled rhythm. His tongue licks into your mouth hungrily, flicking against yours and you moan, vibrating against it. Your whole body shudders, looking for more, anything to quench the need pooling into your core. Secondo groans at every roll of your hips, sucking on your tongue, biting your lower lip like he wants to consume all of you within seconds. You kiss back with just as much hunger, tying to keep pace. Your whole body is burning with need for him, carrying you higher and higher. After a while he slows, hitting an invisible break, and you follow, pulling away to look at him.

Secondo heaves an exhausted sigh, not letting go of you but creating a small gap between your faces to breathe. “I am not quite in shape yet, amore. I don’t think I can keep up tonight.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to drink?”

Maybe it is the way your voice is practically begging him to do so, maybe it is the hunger in your eyes or maybe he truly needs the energy that your blood provides because he finally relents. You pull at your shirt, baring your upper body to him and for a moment he hungrily takes you in, running his hand over every curve, thumbs teasing your nipples until you arch into him.

“So responsive,” he murmurs as he kisses along your jaw. “So good for me.”

His words make you squirm in his lap, the hard friction of his cock adding to the pleasure that runs through you at every touch. “Please. Please, Secondo.”

“Already begging for my cock?” He huffs out a chuckle, hooking his fingers underneath the elastic of your underwear. He rips the fabric apart with ease, running a bare finger over your arousal. “And already so eager. Always so, so eager.”

“I need you,” you whisper. “Please, all I want is to feel you.”

“Hmm, that is all I want too, grappolino. Perhaps you can use the time while I feed...” His fangs scrape over your skin, not breaking it but leaving a burning trail along your throat. “… to keep me nice and warm, hm?”

“Yes,” you immediately squeeze out. “I will do anything.”

“But there is a catch.” He pulls at his sweatpants, freeing his cock until it slaps against your abdomen, trapped in the tightness of your bodies. “You have to be so very good for me. You cannot make a single move. Can you do that?”

“Yes. Yes, I can.”

“Good.”

He lifts you up carefully, keeping you on your knees above him. You leak onto him, drops of your arousal landing on his cock, and he hisses, his fingers digging into your flesh. With one finger, he wipes it off and smears it over your entrance until he can slip it inside, quickly adding a second. A deep moan leaves you at the intensity of the stretch but you quickly adjust and find pleasure in the stimulation. He pumps a few times, spreading his fingers to widen you even more. When he seems satisfied he pulls them out and grabs both of your hips to pull you down into his lap. The tip of his hard cock slides into your entrance. Before he is even fully inside you already clench around what he offers, making you both moan at the sudden intensity. Slowly you sink down further, his mouth hot on your neck while you run your hand over his shoulders. Once he is fully sheathed, he gives a full body shudder.

“Satana, you are so warm,” he whispers, his voice as delicate as if he is saying a prayer. “So, so warm.”

You don’t speak, allowing him his moment of silent reverence. However, patience is not on your side today and you can’t help but squirm after a second, trying to find the smallest amount of friction. His cock is big, girthy, stretching you open like nothing else you’ve felt before.

“No moving,” he finally says. “I need to be precise.”

With that his lips search for the spot on your neck. He stops eventually, opening his mouth and wetting the spot with his tongue. You expect the pain and yet the sting draws a whimper from you. Secondo stops at once, waiting for your reaction.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “Keep going.”

His fangs pull out and you can feel the blood oozing from your vein. Hungrily he laps at it, not quite sucking but firmly holding his mouth over the wound, tongue swiping at the hole in your neck with every swallow. It’s slower than you expected, even as your heart rate goes up in arousal an anticipation. His cock jumps inside of you and you clench around him, earning you a moan from somewhere deep inside of his chest. For a few minutes you hold out, desire building inside of you with every drop of blood that leaves your body.

Eventually, Secondo breaks away. You notice that his skin feels slightly warmer underneath your fingertips, that his eyes look more alive when they finally meet yours again. The green one has turned red just like in your dream and a drop of blood runs down his jaw. You lean in to kiss it away, the metallic taste on your tongue an intense reminder of who you are with. Secondo reciprocates the kiss with renewed energy, licking the blood from your lips and tongue. You taste more of it in his mouth and you can’t help but moan.

“Your taste,” he says, breaking from your lips. “It is the most exquisite thing, my dove.”

“Do you feel better?” you ask breathlessly.

A nod. You squirm again, his cock shifting inside of you as you try to find a comfortable spot. Secondo huffs out a deep breath, the same strain visible in his eyes that has you whimpering with every little movement. “This is not how I want you,” he says. “I told you I would show you how to sin, no?”

With that he grabs your hips, a sudden invigorated strength that seems effortless as he easily manhandles you onto your back while he stays buried deep inside of you. The impact reopens the wound on your neck and you feel drops of the warm liquid running along your skin.

“White sheets…” you whisper as more blood dribbles onto the fabric. “Bold choice for a vampire.”

He chuckles, licking along your shoulder to catch the few remaining drops. He hums, his tongue almost rough when he cleans every drop you have left to give.

“Your blood sugar is low,” he whispers then. “When we’re done here I will feed you, amore. After a nap, perhaps.”

You giggle but it quickly turns into a gasp when he finally starts to move, slowly thrusting into you in a steady rhythm. He grabs your thighs then, pushing them deeper into the mattress until he has you folded in half. With him so deep inside of you your whole body is boiling. You can’t help but hold onto his shoulders, allowing him to move faster, fucking into you almost desperately now. Your arousal leaks all over your joined bodies, wet, squelching sounds soon filling the air around you as his hips piston into yours. You moan without shame ever time he hits that sweet spot inside of you, every time his skin rubs against the other sensitive areas on your body.

“I’m so close,” you whisper, keening and closing your eyes when he thrusts even deeper, slower now.

“You look at me, amore,” he warns. “You look at me when I make you cum.”

Your eyes snap back open, meeting the liquid fire reflected in his red iris. Secondo’s grip on you is tight and his own grunts echo in tandem with the sounds of your skin meeting, with all the desperate noises that leave your lips. You dance along the precipice for a moment, trying to last, trying to stretch out time for a little longer. But when he begins to stutter, his own eyelids fluttering in pleasure at every slow, deep stroke in an attempt to keep them open, you finally fall. The climax that hits you is stronger than any you have felt before and you’re a mess, mewling and whimpering, breathing in jolts as the heat spreads in your body like fire.

Your muscles clenching around him soon has Secondo following. His cock jumps, pumping you full with his seed while he breathes a low moan into your ear. You feel every raw shudder, every little twitch, until it starts to leak out of you and he finally loosens his grasp. Your legs sink back to the mattress and he settles on top of you. Skin against skin, his cool while yours is hot and burning. For a long time you both calm down. Even if he doesn’t seem out of breath, it is clear that he needs the quiet moment of reprieve just as much as you do.

“Ti amo,” he whispers, first almost too low for you to hear but then louder. “Ti amo per sempre. Not even death can part our union.”

You press a gentle kiss to his cheekbone. “I love you, too.”

He huffs out a breath, turning you both to your sides where he holds you close against him, his lips tickling your temple as he presses more and more soft kisses to your skin. You start to relax, his sweet touches lulling you into a state of half-sleep. Your mind finds back to what really occupies it, all the questions and insecurities. A thousand thoughts are swimming in your head, some of them have to do with the sticky mess between your legs, some of them leave the four walls of this bedroom altogether.

“I can hear your mind working,” Secondo grumbles. “I thought I had distracted you well enough.”

“It’s just… are the Nameless Ghouls real ghouls then?” you ask. “And is the special wine all blood or is it some sort of amalgamation? The healer you mentioned, was it the doctor from the donation?”

“Grappolino,” Secondo warns. “All in due time.”

He shifts onto his back, pulling you on top of his chest. You have to bite your tongue to stop interviewing him because he is right – you’ve had enough exertions for the day, and you’d rather spend your remaining energy on more of this.

“Should we have a smoke?” he finally asks.

“In your bedroom?”

“In our bedroom,” he corrects and reaches for the bedside table.

He grabs a pack of Marlboros, retrieving one to trap between his still swollen lips. The gold Dupont lighter opens with a cling and you have to smile. When he hands you the cigarette this time you don’t hesitate. You take a deep drag, pressing your mouth to his before you exhale. Secondo holds it inside, then releases the smoke into the air above you. When his arms close around your body in a firm embrace, you rest your eyes – and listen to the quiet sizzling of the cigarette as it slowly burns out.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed vampire Secondo. If you want to be tagged in any future Friday Nights stories pls let me know! Terzo and Copia will get their own stories, as you might have guessed from the hints in the plot ♡

Masterlist – My Ao3

#friday nights #secondo #secondo x reader #secondo fanfiction #vampire secondo #papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus ii fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #vampire fiction #secondo smut

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flowersandbigteeth · 1 month

Text

Your vampire husband Pt. 5

General Plot: Your vampire husband turns you

Word Count: 3.5K

Vampire (Levi) x single mother reader

A/N: I've gotten lots of general requests for another part for Levi

💕 SFW MASTERPOST 💕

TW: blood drinking, kidnapping, vampire bites, slightly spicy banter , sfw vampire fluff

“What about this?” you asked Meryl as you strolled through the fancy grocery store you were at.

You picked up a few glass pots of baby food, holding them up to Meryl.

“Peach or pear?”

She looked at them, then looked at you. Smiling, she stuffed a hand into her mouth and drooled.

You giggled.

“Okay, both. Daddy can afford it.”

Since you’d been with Levi, you didn’t normally go out on your own, but you’d been feeling a little stifled at the big house. You were wrapped up in vampire business. Levi had meetings with other vampires, with his subordinates, with his family…There was lots of intrigue to follow, but you felt like you’d lost the real world. Hence, when Levi was out that afternoon, you convinced the vampire guard who usually accompanied you on any trips to let you go grocery shopping.

She’d wanted to follow you inside, but you were tired of someone looming over your shoulder. You convinced her nothing could possibly go wrong in a grocery store so she could wait in the car.

It felt like forever since you’d been carefully searching for coupons and rummaging through the bargain bin to feed Meryl, but in reality, it had only been a few months. Meryl was getting bigger, but she was still a baby.

As you moved to the next aisle, a foul smell floated up from your daughter and you sighed as it was time for another diaper change. Stashing your half-full cart outside, you toted her and her baby bag into the bathroom to get her cleaned up.

When you came back out, you looked around for your cart to find it further down the hallway than you’d left it, next to the staff entrance. You figured someone had moved it out of the way, so without a second thought, you walked further away from the bright lights and bustling store to fetch it.

When your fingers closed around the plastic handle, you felt the air brush against your cheek, and your vision went dark. You tried to scream for help, but a cold hand clamped over your lips, and someone wrenched Meryl out of your hands.

Your motherly instincts told you to fight to the death for your daughter, but the moment you balled your fists, everything went silent, and you saw only oblivion.

“Meryl!” you shouted when you jerked awake.

Your eyes popped open, flying around the room you were in frantically. Since you’d last been kidnapped, you forced your focus to your wrists, which were free and unharmed. Looking up again, you noticed a bassinet just beyond the couch you’d been splayed over.

Hopping up, you found Meryl inside, safe and sound fast asleep.

You had no idea where you could be. The living room you were in was opulently decorated in an antiquated style and lit by a crackling fire, but did not belong to your husband.

A heavy door swung open, and a tall figure appeared, silhouetted by the light in the hallway.

“Ivan,” you muttered, recognizing Levi’s cousin, his bright blue eyes glowing like aquamarine jewels.

He took a few steps into the room, grinning.

“Hello, my dear. I mentioned we would meet again soon.”

You frowned, stepping between him and Meryl.

“What am I doing here?”

His gaze followed your protective gesture, and he smirked.

“Don’t fret for her safety. Your daughter will not be harmed. She’s actually quite cute up close.”

Casually walking over to a leather couch, he sat down and patted the seat next to him.

Your eyes narrowed, but you followed his lead, sitting on the opposite side of the couch, as far from him as possible. He may have been smiling at you, but you knew he was dangerous. Behind baby blue eyes, you could see the hunger of a big cat, tail flicking behind him as he closed in on his prey.

“What do you want?” you asked. “Levi isn’t going to be happy when I don’t make it home.”

He snorted.

“Of course. I’m sure he’ll tear his coven apart, murder whoever happens to be in his path… Levi’s weakness is his pithy emotions.”

He examined you closely, leaning his head on his fist.

“Though, I’m starting to see the vision.”

“Why are you doing this? Do you want to see him suffer? I thought you were friends. He’s your cousin.”

Smirking, he moved closer to you.

“Vampire lords can never truly be friends. Allies…maybe. If it’s convenient.”

“So you’re declaring war? That’s what will happen if you don’t return me.”

His face oddly changed, the dark interest in his gaze held melted into puppy dog eyes.

“Why does he get to have special things and I don’t?”

“Special things?” you murmured, glancing over at Meryl, who was still sleeping cozily.

“We aren’t things. We are people.”

His eyes glinted.

“Not if I change that. Did Levi tell you everything about what happens when a vampire turns you?”

“I assume so, what else is there to know?”

Ivan chuckled, brushing your cheek as he spoke.

“I doubt it. I’m sure if he had, you’d be quite a bit more frightened right now.”

He paused for a moment, savoring your innocent face before he terrified you.

“When a vampire like Levi or I, a full-blooded vampire, changes a human…they become linked to him. Usually, vampires use this quirk to amass an army of slaves…but sometimes they fall in love and use their power to turn that lover. Once Levi changes you (Y/N) you are his forever. You won’t be able to harm him, kill him, or deny his will over you. You’ll be his devoted servant.”

He sighed.

“Some vampires, the very, very old ones, believe no vampire can ever really truly love a human, because inevitably they will want to change them so they won’t have to watch them age and die…but how can you be truly a romantic partner when you have no choice to walk away? Perhaps we vampires are cursed to watch the one we truly love slip away from us no matter what we choose.”

A bolt of ice-cold fear shot down your spine. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Levi, but the idea of being anyone’s slave for centuries in itself was a terrifying prospect.

“What…do you…want…from me?” you whispered on a breath.

His lips parted to a smile that revealed his fangs, sparkling in the firelight.

“I don’t think Levi’s done enough to deserve you. You were rather easy to capture, so I can only assume he’s not that serious.”

You tried to slide away from him but only hit the arm of the couch. Your heart thudded in your chest, and instinctively, you looked over your shoulder at Meryl.

Ivan tipped your head to the side with a cold hand, drawing you back to him.

“Don’t be scared. Levi has bitten you before…you’ll like it.”

“I don’t want to be yours if that’s what you’re implying.”

“You speak as if what you want matters. Levi has indulged you. I can see why…but what do you humans say? Spare the rod, spoil the child.”

“Levi will kill you,” you warned.

He just chuckled.

“He might try.”

“You don’t really want us. You don’t know us. You’re the spoiled one.”

He pouted.

“Why wouldn’t I want you? Levi seems so happy. Too happy. I want to be happy.”

“Then find your own wife.”

“Why go to all the trouble when he’s done the work for me?”

His dark smile dropped suddenly, his ears pricking.

“Hmm,” he hummed, standing. “Stay here.”

Ivan held a different level of arrogance, expecting you to hang around for him to bite and enslave you. The minute he shut the door, you tried the windows. They were locked, but assuming Ivan was occupied, you decided to take a risk. You picked up the first end table you could lift and threw it through the glass.

You winced at the loud crash but didn’t have any interest in sticking around to see if anyone heard you.

In her crib, Meryl stirred and you cooed at her, hoping to keep her quiet. Scooping her and securing her to your back with a blanket, you threw one leg out of the window, relieved to find you were only on the second floor.

Gunshots from somewhere nearby, startled you, making you almost lose your footing. Gripping the cold stone window ledge, you carefully lowered yourself to the next one, then easily hopped to the ground.

Near the entrance of the mansion, you could now see you’d been in, flashing lights accompanied the gunshots. Wondering if Levi had come to save you, you peeked around the corner of the building trying to make out the figures. To your dismay, they didn’t look at all like vampires. It was hard to tell, but you were pretty sure they were Orcs. They looked rather tall and thick in the darkness.

Running to them might be worse than Ivan, so you turned in the opposite direction, creeping quietly into the night so as not to jostle Meryl and make her cry.

You stopped when you could see a road just beyond the trees, panting with exertion. Hope bloomed in your chest. A road meant people, and people meant a way home.

Only you never made it to the next few steps. Someone tugged Meryl from your back and shoved you into a tree. At first, you were sure it was Ivan, but a familiar scent filled your lungs.

“Levi?”

In the darkness, you could hardly make out his face, but his red eyes flashed danger.

“Naughty. Naughty wife,” he growled.

His voice was low and cruel, the same tone he used when he was about to tear someone apart. Your heart turned to ice, but your thoughts were always on Meryl.

“Please, Levi, don’t hurt her.”

His eyes widened and narrowed, the rich red color becoming almost painful to look at.

“You think I’d hurt my own daughter?”

Your mouth opened and closed, words caught in your throat.

“You disobeyed me. You went out without a guard. Were you trying to get stolen? Do I mean so little to you? Perhaps Ivan was right, perhaps I’ve been coddling you.”

At that, your brow drew.

“You heard that?”

He didn’t answer, but your anger grew to match his.

“You sat outside while Ivan terrorized me…to what? Make a point?”

“Ivan is stupid and arrogant. You are lucky it was him who caught you and not someone smarter. I gave you a guard to protect you, and you signed her death warrant.”

You gasped.

“You killed her?”

“Ivan’s spawn did. She was caught off guard.”

He huffed, holding Meryl to his chest. His eyes went dark for a moment as he pressed a kiss into her fluff of hair.

“I’ve told you a thousand times. My world is dangerous! What do you think it would do to me if someone stole you away? My lessers must obey my orders to the T. She defied me. …at your request. I should have killed her myself. You need to take responsibility.”

Anger still boiled just below your skin, but so did guilt, and sadness.

“Fine…” you muttered. “I will take responsibility.”

You looked up at him, still glowing hot in the pitch-black forest.

“Change me.”

He blinked at you and you could make out his mouth opening.

“What?”

“I want you to change me. I’m tired of being weak. I’m tired of walking on eggshells and hiding. I want to be able to protect myself and Meryl. If you change me…I’ll…I’ll be strong.”

He took a heavy step forward, his hand hitting the tree behind you as he searched your eyes.

“You know what it truly is now…and you still…want that…?”

Your face blanched, but you lifted your chin defiantly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because…I was afraid you would say no if you knew the truth…that you might try to run. I planned to tell you...when the time was right. When I knew you’d agree.”

You sucked in a deep breath.

“The time is now, Levi. Meryl’s mostly on solid food and…”

Swallowing heavily, you reached up and pulled Levi’s hand down to you, pressing it against your cheek.

“I don’t want to be Ivan’s. I don’t want to be anyone’s but yours. Any vampire could steal me away and make me their spawn in seconds.”

“(Y/N), If you do this for the wrong reasons…you might come to hate me.”

“I might…but I might not. I love you…and that’s a better foundation than…”

You didn’t even want to say his name. You didn’t want any part of this conversation to be about him.

“Your cousin.”

He blinked at you, pulling you into his arms.

“You’ve never said that so easily before. I wondered if you really felt the same way that I felt about you.”

“I…took you and your world for granted. I’m sorry for that. We need to be a united front. We aren’t just married, we’re parents. I trust you…and I love you…so it’s time.”

He glanced around, picking you up and flopping you over the shoulder that wasn’t occupied with Meryl.

“We’re not doing it here.”

You could hardly think straight as he loaded you into an SUV that had been parked on the side of the road. It was hard to formulate a vision of what you would be as a vampire. You squeezed Levi’s hand so hard it would have hurt him had he been human.

“What happened back there?” you asked, trying to distract yourself from what was to come.

“I told you, Ivan is stupid. He was already a target for the Orcs for killing one of their leaders during a poker game. I told them where he was hiding out. His idiocy knows no bounds. Stealing from the one person who knows where you are hiding…there aren’t words.”

He patted your head.

“I had planned on confronting him while his minions were distracted, but my clever little wife rescued herself.”

You relaxed at his praise, but he stiffened and shot you a grimace.

“Don’t do that again.”

You blinked at him.

“Will I be able to…after?”

His face softened, and he looked away.

“If I don’t force my will on you, then yes…but I admit that will be very difficult.”

“You can’t promise that you won’t?”

He looked at you for a long time, and you saw the lie cross his mind, but he straightened himself and decided to tell the truth.

“No, I can’t, and you should understand that before you agree. If you put yourself in danger (Y/N)...I can’t promise.”

You sucked in a deep breath considering that.

“Can you promise me one thing, then?”

The silence stretched on for a minute.

“If we’re ever in a situation where you must choose me or Meryl. Choose her. That’s what I would want if I could choose myself.”

A pained look crossed his face, but he nodded, pulling your hand to his lips and kissing it.

When you reach the mansion, he daintily tucked Meryl in her crib and took you to one of the guest rooms. His face held an expression of complete focus. Levi had changed many humans, but it was not without its risks. If you failed to swallow his blood at the moment of your death, you could be lost forever.

He considered not doing it at all. Was this selfish? Risking your life so that you might never leave him.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked as he laid you down on the bed.

“Yes.”

His chest rose and fell with a deep breath. Your fingers trembled, and he folded his hand around yours.

“Don’t be frightened. Remember when I bit you before? Instead of pulling out of that oblivion…embrace it. You will wake up again.”

You would have felt more confident if he had not been looking at you like it was the last time. He tilted your head to the side, running a finger over the column of your neck. Your breaths came in halting pants, wondering what being the living dead felt like.

His head dipped, and you felt his breath tickle your skin.

“Wait!” you gasped.

Levi’s head jerked up, and he looked…disturbed.

“H-have you changed your mind? This cannot be undone, (Y/N).”

“I-It’s not that…It’s…”

Your eyes met his; the frightening, glaring shade dimmed to a more sensual scarlet.

“Will you still love me when I’m cold?”

He blinked at you before he chuckled. Slapping his chest, you pouted.

“I’m serious, Levi. What if you don’t like me as a vampire?”

He wrinkled his nose.

“Impossible. If anything it will be a relief. Do you know how much I worry? When you balance on a stool to reach a shelf…I wonder if you’ll slip and break your neck. When you are fiddling with your hairdryer, I wonder if some stray drop of water will have you electrocuted.”

He cupped your cheek.

“You and Meryl are maddeningly delicate.”

Taking your hand again, he gazed up at you from behind your fingers.

“We both need this.”

Swallowing a cold lump in your throat, you relaxed against the pillow under your head.

This time, Levi’s hand slipped up your stomach, slowly tracing the curves of your body until he reached your throat. Pushing your head to the side, he pressed a soft kiss at the crook of your neck. He gave you no warning, the slight pinch making you jump. A tight mewl slipped past your lips and your instincts told you to pull away, but Levi’s strong fingers held you in place until your fear was replaced with a warm euphoria. It bloomed like a night flower, starting as one tight bud in the pit of your stomach; it blossomed into soft petals capturing all of your senses.

It was easy to do as he asked: accept oblivion. It called to you in alluring tones. As your vision of the coffered ceiling above your head faded, it was replaced with a golden glow—perhaps a blurry view of the afterlife. On its own, your hand reached towards the warmth, your fingertips grazing an ethereal surface that almost tickled.

A smile grew on your lips for just a moment, until it seemed to be getting further and further away. The pure sensation of peace and comfort drifted just out of your reach. Something else pulled you closer, willing you to turn your head from paradise and look into the darkness.

There was a figure there, sanguine eyes bleeding to bitter memories. Horrors that couldn’t be described properly in words, but shook you to your core. It was frightening but familiar. You realized this was Levi. Emotions and images without context flashed in front of you. Cold, pain, emptiness. You watched him grow from a small child to a man. Sadness and regret pressed on your chest, pushing the breath from you until it broke.

You weren’t sure, but you thought you saw a little flicker of light. It was so tiny at first; you thought maybe you were imaging it, but then you saw yourself. The first time Levi had seen you. The first time he’d seen Meryl. Your smile, eyes, and sadness choking you ebbed like the tide, leaving tenderness behind.

A dark tendril took your hand, drawing you into his consciousness. What was you bled into what was him, linking the two of you for eternity. The wave of pain that had been drawn away returned as unconditional, undeniable love. You could see how it colored every action, every gesture, every kiss.

At first, you assumed you were entering him, but it was clear you were already there. Only your independent consciousness had just arrived.

There were other quiet voices, his other spawn…creatures he’d created. You tasted their thoughts and feelings, but he pulled you into a space separate from them—a space reserved for you.

This place was insulated, warm, and quiet. He cradled you there and the odd copper taste of blood coated your tongue. You were supposed to be doing something, but you couldn’t remember what. Another warm tendril lifted your chin and you found apple red-eyes looking at you.

“It’s done.”

Suddenly, the world was real. You were in a bed– you could feel the fibers of the sheets underneath your fingers. You smelled Levi and Meryl, pleasant scents, and also the odd mish-mash of the other vampires in the house. Your gums ached and you lifted your fingers to glide them over the pointy fangs that had grown from your canines.

“I feel…different.”

Levi smiled, eyes slipping over your face.

“I know.”

He knew everything. He was in your head, answering your thoughts before you could even express them.

“I’m not like the others.”

He’d closed your mind to his vampire minions. It was hard to comprehend the sensation with what lingered of your human thoughts, but you felt nestled someplace close and secret.

“You have access to my thoughts. It’s only fair that if I can see all of you, you can see all of me. You will never be my servant.”

A hand slid under your shoulders and he sat you up.

“Will Meryl still recognize me?”

Before you even finished the thought, he nodded. His vision of you flashed in your mind, still looking like your old self, but a bit more. You could feel his affection for you in real-time, peace, happiness, relief, and arousal. He wanted to touch you, but he was holding back. Even with access to your innermost feelings, he was unsure how to approach you.

“Come here.”

You scooted over on the bed and tugged him next to you. The desire he felt bled into every nerve ending lighting them up. Gazing at him through your lashes, instinct told you to bear your fangs. The pure, sensual hunger you reflected back at him turned his eyes glossy and his cheeks red.

“I’m hungry.”

He pulled you onto his lap to straddle him and pushed his hair to one side. He had plenty of blood to share with you. You listened to it occur to him you might want to feed on someone else some day. You felt him extract the little inklking from your consciousness, isolating it, then crushing it.

You wanted to only feed from him. It might have been alarming that mere minutes after becoming his, he’d used his power over you to change your mind, but you were too hungry to focus on that fact. Levi happily steered your thoughts to his smooth skin and scent, enticing you to bite.

As you latched on to his neck, his eyes rolled back, the pleasure of your little teeth and the smug satisfaction that you were forever his a heady drug.

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thevampireaesthetic · 2 years

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#twilight #vampire #vampires #vampirecore #vampyr #gothic #vampire girl #goth #vampire aesthetic #vampire goth #vampirism #vampyre #vampire books #vampire bite #vampire art #vamplove #vampire fiction #horror

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bb-sg · 10 months

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Devoured

Gojo Satoru x Vampire!reader

CW: Shameless smut, dub con, yandere gojo, rough, violence, blood play, knife play, cursing, degradation, praise, female anatomy. MDNI. Reader is on the prowl when she runs into a certain white-haired sorcerer.

Halloween was your favorite day of the year.

It was the one day that you could truly be yourself, no hiding who you were. Or what you were. People dressed up in costumes of characters they love, dressing up to show off their looks, or pretending to be monsters. Little did they know that real monsters walk among them every day, monsters like you.

You’ve been alive in this world for over one hundred years, lying low and usually strictly drinking from animals to avoid drawing attention to yourself. Recently, you’ve been craving more. During this day and age, it was easy to find willing human participants. Vampires were popular in many cultures; you had found numerous sites and fandoms that craved to be fed from. At first you refused to engage with that community, but curiosity and gluttony got the best of you. You could never deny that human blood was divine.

Which is why you were sitting in a crowded bar on Halloween, waiting to meet a man that you met through social media. He begged and pleaded to meet a real-life vampire. You sat at the bar, waiting for the man to show up but he was running late, and you were running out of patience. You had already had numerous shots, the bar tender had wanted to cut you off 4 shots ago, but you convinced him you were more than capable of handling your liquor. Your mind was starting to get hazy. People swayed and danced to the music around you, laughing and giggling while showing off their attire.

It would be so easy.

They were easy prey, their sweet blood reeked with alcohol and drugs, not that you minded. It would still be a delicacy even if it was tainted. You scoffed to yourself, the alcohol clouding your judgement while you looked around the room, assessing each person in the bar. The cute woman dressed like a slutty cat would be a piece of cake, you could get her back to your house with a few charming words and a couple more shots in her system. Or maybe you should take home the cute bartender, who has not so subtly been eyeing you up and down since you sat at the bar.

You continued scanning the bar until you saw a white-haired man sitting on the other side of the bar, staring back at you. He lounged on the couch, taking up as much space as physically possible. One of his strong arms draped on the top of the couch and a drink in his other hand. His long legs were spread open wide, almost as if he was inviting you to sit between them.

You laughed, trying to shake off the urge to approach him but the intensity of his gaze drew you to him. He was handsome, with sharp features, beautiful hair, and clear porcelain skin. He wore an expensive looking suit, perfectly tailored to fit his muscular build, and showed off his toned arms. His most notable feature was his eyes. In all your years, you’ve never seen anyone with eyes that blue, they looked like diamonds that were floating in the ocean. They bore a hole through you, fixating on you alone.

When you were human, he would have made you nervous, too shy to attempt to talk with him. Now, you finished another shot, smoothed out the tight mini dress that clung to your body and swayed your hips as you walked toward him. He gave you a wicked smile, watching every step you took. You sat down on the couch next to him, crossing your legs seductively. His gorgeous eyes trailed up and down your body, stopping at where your fingers were playing with the end of your dress.

“What are you supposed to be?” You questioned.

His smile grew and he leaned in and whispered, “A killer”.

You smirked and nodded; he was not what you were expecting. He bit his bottom lip while he looked you up and down once more.

“Based off how you are dressed, you must be a model.” His voice was playful and flirtatious. You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes at his pickup line.

“Not quite.” You gave him a sweet smile, showing off your fangs.

“Oh, you’re a vampire?”

“You’re handsome and smart.” You ran your tongue over your teeth before scooting closer to him. He smelled very sweet and enticing, the scent made your mouth water. “Are you here alone?”

“I am. I couldn’t help but notice that you seem to be by yourself as well. Are you waiting for someone?”

He sipped at his drink before setting it down on the table. He turned his body towards you and rested his arm above the couch around you, his fingertips grazed your shoulder. His scent overwhelmed you as he got closer to you. The temptation to devour him right then and there grew with each second you spent in his company.

“What? Are you stalking me?” You asked him and laughed, playfully slapped his chest, lingering a moment to feel his heart beating in his broad chest. The sound of each thump of his heart echoed in your head like a drum. You could barely hear yourself think over its constant pounding.

“Yeah, I am. I’m a killer, remember?” He broke out in a mischievous smile. You laughed again, throwing your head back and dazzling him with a beautiful smile.

“How could I forget? I was waiting for someone, but it seems like he stood me up.” You pretended to pout, even though you were glad that the vampire fanatic you were supposed to meet didn’t show up. The thrill of picking up and seducing this man, tricking him into coming home with you, was amazing. It was like a game of chess, you made slow and strategic moves to get closer and closer to taking the prize.

“He’s an idiot for not showing up for a gorgeous woman like you. I’m Satoru. Let me buy you a drink.”

Pawn to E5.

You gave him your name and accepted his offer. He flagged down a waitress and ordered the two of you drinks. You made small talk with him, exchanging flirtatious quips back and forth. Every few minutes you would move closer to each other, you let your leg rest against his while his hand rested on your knee. His touch was hot against your cool skin, the feeling made you clench your thighs together. His other hand played with a strand of your hair absentmindedly.

Knight to C6.

You adjusted your dress, pulling at the bust, making your breast slightly bounce and grab his attention. He bit his lip while he watched you, eating you up with his gaze. The hunger and lust in his eyes was evident; he made no attempt to hide his desire for you.

Knight to D4. This is too easy.

The waitress returned with your drinks and the two of you talked and drank for some time. Slowly his hand moved up your thigh, pulling you a little closer to him. He gave you his undivided attention, smiling and making you laugh, it was clear that this wasn’t the first time he’s picked up a woman from a bar. He was charming and playful but there was an edge to him too. Underneath the smile and his good looks, you sensed something dark within him.

“So sweetheart, how about you and I get outta here?” He propositioned you, his fingers sliding underneath your dress and dangerously closer to your core. You imagined how those fingers would feel inside you, slipping in between your wet folds, while the taste of his sweet blood lingered on your tongue.

“You have no idea.” You reached out and played with the collar of his shirt, giving him a wide smile that showcased your sharp fangs.

Checkmate.

You arrived at his penthouse after a cab ride filled with light petting and teasing. When he opened the door, you were blown away. His apartment was filled with expensive paintings, exquisite furniture and completely spotless. The minute you stepped in you were overwhelmed with the scent of him all around you. Your excitement grew, an ache spreading in your stomach.

He shut and locked the door before pulling you against him with a firm grip on your waist. His soft lips ghosted yours, only millimeters from your own.

“Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?” He whispered, one of his hands drifting down to your ass, giving it a hard squeeze. You smirked and looked up into his eyes, trying to read him.

“Looking for me? Or just a beautiful woman to take home?” You teased him and ran your fingers up and into his soft hair. He groaned when you took a handful of his locks into your hand, gently pulling his head to the side so his neck was exposed to you. The drumming of blood pumping through the veins in his neck put you in a trance. His laugh shook his body, and the playful aura that was around him seemed to dissipate.

He grabbed your face by your chin, redirecting your focus to his lips as they crashed into yours, hungrily moving with yours. The grip on your ass tightened and held you flush against him. His leg slipped between your legs and his thigh rubbed against your core. The muscles in his thigh tensed when you ground your hips against him.

The feeling of your swelling bud pressed against him made you moan, allowing him the opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. He tasted sweet with a hint of alcohol. It was intoxicating. His wet tongue wrestled with yours, skimming over your fangs but not hard enough to pierce him.

He picked you up and carried you through the apartment with ease. His large muscles rippled underneath you, while he moved toward the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. You clung to him and kissed him passionately. The taste and feeling of him mixed with the alcohol made your head swim.

He threw you onto his mattress and climbed on top of you. His legs straddled your hips, and one of his large hands held both of yours about your head, pinning you down. He looked down at you, his eyes clouded with lust.

“No, I’ve been looking for you little vampire.” He used his free hand to undo his tie, wrapping the fabric around your wrists, binding them together with a tight knot. He leaned back onto his heels, looking over every inch of you. The intensity of his gaze sent shivers up your spine. You were starting to wonder which one of you was the predator, and which one was the prey.

His hand push the bottom of your dress up revealing your white lace panties underneath. He groaned at the sight of the damp fabric, leaning down close to place his lips against them, lapping at the slick that saturated them. You moaned and arched your back as you felt his tongue lick against your cloth covered pussy, leaving you wanting more.

Satoru inhaled your scent, burying his face against your core, his eyes rolling back in his head.

“Fuck, I didn’t expect you to be so sexy. What a shame.” He mumbled to himself before getting off the bed and undressed down to his boxers. His body was impeccable, with a sculpted, and wide chest and broad shoulders with rippling abs that lead down to his long, and thick cock that stood erect. He opened his nightstand and a long, sharp knife emerged from the drawer and he twirled it in his hand skillfully.

You let out a laugh. “What are you going to do, kill me?”

He laughed along with you while circling the bed, moving closer to where your head rested. He stopped and pulled you to the edge of the mattress, letting your head hang off the side. The cold blade run up the column of your neck slowly, threatening to break the skin. It excited you, thrilled you, yet it made you nervous.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” His voice was sweet and warm but his look was dark and cold. He scrapped the knife down to the strap of your dress. He swiftly slipped the cold steel under the strap and cut through it, repeating this action on the other strap. He pulled his boxers down, letting his cock slap against his stomach.

You were getting impatient, wanting to get to the part where you drank him dry while his massive cock filled you up. You opened your mouth wide and looked up at him with pleading eyes. He smirked and stroked his length over you, little beads of precum leaking at the tip.

“So eager, such a little whore. Don’t even think about biting me, little vampire.” He punctuated his statement by pushing his tip into your mouth. The taste of him, both salty and sweet, bloomed on your tongue. He threw his head back and moaned shoving himself deeper and into your throat. His hand wrapped around your neck while he rested the blade against your skin.

He was rough and brutal, fucking your face with abandon, chasing his own high. His aggressiveness made you soak your panties, wishing your hands were free to touch your needy pussy. You breathe through your nose while he kept a consistent pace in and out of your mouth, drool coating his cock and running down your face.

“Fuck. You’re making me second guess this. Maybe I should keep you around after all.” He grunted, his voice breaking a little with every thrust. You tried pulling away from him, something inside you told you to run. He held you down, keeping you from getting away from him. He was strong, intimidatingly strong.

You pulled against the tie wrapped around your arms until it tore, freeing your hands. You pushed back against him hard sending him crashing against the wall behind him. You made a break for it, climbing out of the bed and running to the door. Before you could open it, he threw you against it, your chest slamming into the wood. He pressed himself against you hard, caging you in.

“What the fuck Satoru!” You yelled and tried to push him off you, but he didn’t budge. He was stronger and faster than any other human you had met.

“I told you kitten, I’m a killer. Some people aren’t too happy to have you hanging around town and they sent me after you. I thought it would be harder to get you back here, but you just threw yourself at me willingly.” You felt his chest rumble with a deep laugh, while a hand slipped into your panties, tracing your slit lightly. “Don’t worry, I’ll still give you what you came here for though.”

A moan ripped through your chest when his finger pushed past your entrance, reaching deep inside you. The palm of his hand pressed against your clit, making your legs shake, pleasure coursing through your body.

“You’re so wet, you want this don’t you?” He whispered with his lips pressed into your ear. You placed your palms flat against the door with the intent to push him away from you again, but the feeling of his finger pumping into you stopped you. He dragged his finger along your walls, reaching that spot that made you grind your hips down into his hand.

“You can try to kill me all you want, but you won’t succeed.” Your voice was breathy, not coming off nearly as menacing as you wanted it to.

He slipped another finger into your tight hole, spreading you open and rutting into you harder. You moved your hips in time with his movements, riding his fingers, the fire building in your core. You needed him in every way.

You body tensed as he pumped faster, your pussy squeezing him as you quickly approached your orgasm. Just as you were about to reach your high, he quickly grabbed your arm and pulled you back towards the bed. You hit his chest as hard as you could, but he was unfazed. It was like you completely missed somehow even though you felt your fist make contact with him.

“You can’t hurt me baby, not unless I want you to.” He pulled you back onto the bed and pulled your panties down your legs. He bundled them and sniffed them, breathing in the smell of your arousal. You smiled, baring your fangs at him, but he only smirked.

“You know what I am, now what are you? You’re not normal.” You asked him hesitantly as he crawled onto the bed closer to you. His hands rested on your knees and spread them wide, exposing your dripping pussy. He leaned down to nuzzle his tongue into your warmth.

His hot, wet muscle lapped up your juices, and your eyes fell back as you savored the sensation. The sound of his deep, guttural moan made you clench and ache more. Bright, blue eyes watched as you thrashed and moaned under his touch. He used his thumbs to spread you open while he gently sucked on your bud. Your legs tried to snap shut from the stimulation, but his large frame forced them open. You hissed through your teeth when his fingers slipped back into you, while he lapped and sucked on your sensitive clit. The bed shifted as he started rutting his weeping cock into it, desperately seeking some friction to soothe the throbbing ache in his balls.

“So, you’re some sick vampire hunter or something?” You whispered between moans, barely able to form coherent words while he ravished you like it was his last meal. He slapped your thigh hard, before pushing your legs back, pressing them down against the bed, folding you in half. He loomed over you, imprisoning you under him.

He smiled down at you, another sweet and deceiving smile. You reached a hand up and wrapped it around his neck, squeezing slightly, trying to take control. He allowed you to hold him still, looking down on you expectingly.

“Well, are you going to try to kill me little vampire? Before I fuck you dumb?” His smile widened.

You ran your hand up into his hair and pulled him down to kiss you, tasting yourself on his tongue. You mumbled against his lips, “No, I’ll kill you after”.

He suddenly slammed his cock into you, impaling you on his long cock. The intrusion made you gasp and throw your head back in ecstasy. He didn’t wait for you to adjust before rutting into you harshly. The sound of your slick glazing his cock and skin slapping skin was barely audible over your loud moans.

You kissed him again, opening your mouth to let him in. He groaned into your mouth before his tongue brushed against yours. You waited until the right moment, then quickly bit down on his tongue, drawing blood.

The sweet taste of his blood flooded your mouth as you kissed him and sucked gently at the wound. You were gone, drunk with pleasure and the taste of him coating your throat. He thrusted into you hard, the force pushing you further into the bed. He kissed you passionately, as if he was consuming you just like you were consuming him.

Next, you bit his lip, puncturing his soft skin. Blood trickled down his chin while you drank from him. He groaned and pounded into you faster, the grip he had on one of your legs tightened, spreading you wider. You moaned with every punishing thrust of his hips, his hot skin burning you up.

He broke the kiss and slowly pulled out of you, his eyes glued to the sight of his hard length, shimmering with your arousal, sliding out of your tight pussy. You whimpered at the loss of his touch. He laughed under his breath and sat with his back against the headboard. His oceanic eyes stared at you while he stroked himself.

“Come here little vampire. You’re going to ride me and beg me to fuck you like the whore you are.”

You wiped your mouth, and crawled up the bed to him seductively, straddling him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You hovered over the tip of his cock, rubbing it through your folds.

“Don’t act like you don’t want this just as bad as I do, Satoru. Does it turn you on when I do this?” You trailed kisses down his jaw and to his neck, stopping above his pulse point. You pressed your lips against the soft drumming of his heartbeat. You had him right where you wanted him, pliant and offering himself to you. Some killer he was.

Your sharp fangs penetrated his skin, and you drank greedily from his coursing vein as you sank down onto him. A load moan slipped past his lips and your eyes fell shut in bliss. He held you against him, opening his neck up to you, but not allowing you to move on top of him. You were crazed, needing to feel his cock bullying your needy hole, while his taste satisfied your hunger.

“Yeah, but you didn’t beg sweetheart. Don’t make me kill you before you finish, I can feel how badly you want to cum.” He sighed and rested his head against the headboard. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of you feeding off him, his mind was clouded with euphoria. He didn’t imagine it would feel this good, it took every ounce of self-control he had to prevent himself from rutting his hips up into you. The fluttering of your cunt around his aching cock made him groan in agony and need.

With each second that passed, you expected him to grow weaker and faint as you drank more and more of him. You planned to drain him until he was weak enough to release his hold on you, freeing you to bounce on his cock as much as you wanted. That moment never came, his grip even tightened when you tried to wiggle and hump him. At the rate you were feeding from him, he should be out cold or worse.

You were almost full, and he was still trapping you against him with a smile on his face.

“You can’t kill me kitten. Drink to your little hearts content, I can heal myself faster than you can drain me.” His voice brought you out of your trance. Your eyes flew open, and you pulled back, blood dripping from the corner of your mouth. You stared at him, watching the trickle of blood from his wound slow and then come to a halt, the wound closing almost instantly. You froze, trying to understand what was happening. Trying to figure out what he was, who he was.

“Now beg for me.” He stared back at you through white dusted eyelashes while he rolled his pelvis against you once, teasing you.

Your mouth fell open, the fire in your core burning hot again.

“Please, just…please fuck me.” You mumbled, feeling defeated.

He fucked up into you, his cock spreading you wide. The power of his thrust made your breast bounce and jiggle in his face. He let your hips go, electing to rip the remainder of your dress, leaving you completely bare on top of him. You ground clit against him while he pushed himself as deep as your body allowed him to.

“Shit, that’s too deep.” You breathed out.

“Too fucking bad. You got what you wanted, now it’s my turn.” He slurred, while he took your soft breast in his hands. He roughly fondled them, rolling your erect nipples through his fingers. You moaned and leaned into his touch. He was the only thing your mind could focus on, even when you should be trying to figure out how to run away from him.

“This pussy is so sweet, you feel so good.” He moaned, pounding harshly into you. It took your breath away. You hung your head back, your muscles tensing as you felt yourself being blinded by your orgasm. Your legs shook and your cum covered his abdomen and legs as you came.

He smiled up at you, watching your hazy eyes droop down. He pumped into you faster, sweat running down his forehead, your pussy sucking him in as your climax rippled through your body.

“Such a slut, cumming all over your assassin’s cock. Look at you, a vicious monster, drooling on my cock. Too dumb to run away and too weak to kill your victim.” He grunted and wrapped a large hand around your neck, and his other hand grabbed your hip.

He lifted you up and down his twitching member as if you weighed nothing. He fucked you vigorously, driving his hips up into your overstimulated pussy while he brought you down on him. You cried out, his tip slamming into your cervix. He watched where the two of you were connected, gazing at your cum covering both of you and his cock disappearing into your tight cunt. The image of him plunging himself into you while you babbled and gasped made his balls tighten.

His abs tightened as he threw his head back, pumping you full of his hot, sticky cum. He moaned as he came, you couldn’t help but admire how gorgeous he looked, overtaken with lust and pleasure. He let out a shaky breath and released your neck. You sat on top of him while both of you caught your breath.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the glint of the knife on the other side of the bed. Quickly, you leaped for the weapon, but he was faster, kicking you back and off the bed. You landed on the floor with a thud, the impact knocking the wind out of you. As you tried to get up you noticed he was already standing over you. He kicked you in the side, rolling you over on to your back. You scrambled to get up, swinging at him, but he smoothly dodged your attack.

It was now or never. You pushed yourself up and bolted for the door, the human blood giving you extra strength. You ripped the door open and ran for the exit. Just as you unlocked the door, as the doorknob turned and you were almost free, his hand hit the door, forcing it shut again.

“You’re not going anywhere. I have changed my mind though.” His voice was playful and light.

You turned around to face him, pressing yourself against the door to create as much distance from him as possible. He looked down on you, his hair covering one of his otherworldly eyes, a smile gracing his face.

“Don’t look so scared, I decided I’m not going to kill you.”

You waited for a sense of relief, but it never came.

“No, I’m going to keep you here and lock you up. You can do whatever you want in the penthouse and in exchange you’ll take care of the place. You can even spend my money on whatever you want.” He paused, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. “What do ya say?”

You shook your head, fear prickling your skin.

“Hmm, too bad. You don’t really have a choice.” He kissed you again, his arms blocking you in.

“You’re mine now, little vampire.”

--This was so much fun to write, thinking about making it a series. please let me know what you think, I love getting comments from you guys. Reblogging helps spread my work. Thank you for reading!

#gojo satoru #gojo fanfic #gojo #gojo headcanons #gojo saturo #jjk fanfic #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo angst #yandere gojo #yandere #vampire #vampire fanfic #vampire fiction #vampire fantasy

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jungk0oksthighs · 2 years

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Pi Gasu | When Two Become One

Pairing - jungkook x reader

Genre - smut, angst, E2L, vampire!jungkook

Word Count - 8k

Jungkook has been keeping you close upon the revelation about the Pi Gasu curse. Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, terminal illness, unintentional violence / injury description, explicit sexual content, painful sex, biting, heavy angst

SERIES MASTERLIST

Being cursed for death doesn’t seem too far afield from what’s written for everybody in this world. People breathe, sleep, eat, breed and eventually they wither and die. Of course there are vices that consume humanity between its beginning and end. Drugs, alcohol, lying, cheating, stealing, fucking everything with a pulse in a three hundred mile radius. And that’s only to name a few.

Death is inevitable for every living, breathing thing. One way or another life ends. No matter how beautifully written the book, or in spite of the end being premature, or even how peaceful the final chapter may be. That’s exactly what it is – a finale. Everything else is irrelevant in that moment. The sins, the celebrations, all the regrets and false promises truly mean nothing when it’s time to close the book.

We’re all born to die.

But to die before you’ve really lived? It’s pitiful. You don’t have a vice, there’s no morally grey area that intrigues you. Well maybe there is one. It’s tall, dark and sinisterly handsome with a knack for taking your breath away whenever it speaks in romance riddles. Whenever it embraces you you’re left wordless, and on the rare occasion it’s lips have moulded against yours it’s enough to consume every fibre of your being.

Unfortunately for you, it’s the same vice you’ve been staying with for almost three weeks now.

The curse of the Pi Gasu has plagued your thoughts ever since Jungkook told you about it. How you and your twin brother Eddie are cursed. How your biological father was a vampire. How Eddie’s terminal illness is nothing more than a transition into immortality. And how his transition will only be completed the moment you die. So it’s all real, the scary monsters and spooky tales. The vampires, werewolves and demons. The witchcraft, the potions and curses. It’s been a rough couple of weeks for you hiding out in Jungkook’s house that’s for damn sure.

Which leaves the question: why are you hiding out in his house?

It was something the monster in question deemed necessary, now that he knows the truth of your linage he wants to protect you from vampires. As Eddie’s transition painfully drags itself to almost completion, your scent has only grown all the more enticing to the undead.

The Pi Gasu curse births a born predator, a powerful vampire, and when the DNA splits itself in the womb the other twin, the human twin, is cursed for a short-lived life plagued with the unwanted art of seduction. Everything about you mesmerises a vampire, securing your death and completing Eddie’s transition into eternal darkness. Restoring the balance in the world, one death for immortal life.

It’s been unbearable for both you and Jungkook to be around each other as your scent flourishes, drowning him, so much so that you’re staying in a small spare bedroom on the highest floor away from his choice of bedroom – the basement.

It's decorated nicely, the bedroom you’re staying in, as is the rest of his home. Plain and simple, added touch of personality. Almost like he saw the room in a catalogue and thought; 'that's what humans live like, I'll copy it.'

You’ve been in the basement many times, hell he’s nearly taken you to heaven and back again within those walls on multiple occasions when you used to fool around together. But it’s out of bounds right now, for no reason other than your safety. You know that he’s insisting you stay here for your own good, to stay alive, because he’s told you that he needs more time. More time to find a cure for the Pi Gasu curse, but so far his efforts have been futile.

Of course there was the spark of hope that perhaps if you turned into a vampire, Eddie would be saved and you could avoid being buried deep in the earth or being scattered in the sky. However, after much researching Jungkook and his for lack of better word friends Taehyung, Seokjin, Jimin and Namjoon all found no evidence to support the theory.

Apparently Jungkook isn’t willing to risk it regardless, he shut you down very quickly when you asked him to turn you. And not just because it’s illegal, but because he doesn’t want that life for you. He’s determined to find another way. And as you’re currently cooped up in his home asking any of the other vampires you know through association to turn you is somewhat impossible.

“Maybe I should just ask him to get this over with and kill me already.” You whisper at your reflection in the mirror, brushing out your wet freshly-showered hair.

That’s the inevitable, right? You’re going to die anyway so what’s the use in prolonging it? Eddie will be saved, Jungkook won’t have to fear that you’ve been found and killed by a vampire every damn day. It’s been a few days since you’ve even seen Jungkook’s face, usually he knocks on the bedroom door to let you know there’s food waiting for you before disappearing into the basement. It must be becoming a chore for him to take care of you like this, as much as it’s becoming a chore for you to stay put and wait for a miracle. You’re bored, broken and ready to face reality.

You were born to die.

Slowly, you push the bedroom door open, contrasting against the quickening of your beating heart. You’ve given him time and he’s found no cure. You’re ready to embrace death if it means your brother can be saved.

Skin still damp from the hot shower you cling onto the small towel that barely covers your modesty, making your way downstairs in his eerily homely home. It’s warm, as it has been throughout your stay here. Usually he would never feel the need to turn on the heating, but with a human under his roof he’s grown considerate of your comfort. Jungkook’s basically doing what he can to keep you alive, all while staying well out of your way and in turn not killing you himself.

Before you even have chance to call out his name in the open living area, he’s resting against the doorway in front of you – like he sensed you coming. Water beads trickle down your exposed skin when you stand completely still, frozen, staring at the vampire who’s hellbent on protecting your soul.

Jungkook swallows, wetting his lips all while his eyes slide over your body and drink in what you’re wearing. Well, what you’re not wearing. Unlike you he’s fully clothed, a shimmering red bomber jacket thrown over a zebra print sheer shirt that hangs just over his black belt. All tied together with ripped black jeans and bare feet. His disregard for colour palettes or themes when it comes to fashion choices never fails to amuse you. No human would ever dress like that.

“Did you need something?” His voice is flat, unreadable, much like the expression blanketing his sharp profile that’s only softened by the wavy locks of raven hair tickling his thick brows, “Are you out of clean clothes?”

“No… I just-, I just wanted to see you I guess.” You sigh absentmindedly, shaking some excess water from your hair, “It’s pretty lonely up there.”

The look on Jungkook’s face is nothing short of pained when his eyes squeeze shut, he looks almost guilty before he pinches the bridge of his nose, “Y/N… I’m sorry. But it’s for your own safety.”

“You’ve never hurt me before.” You mumble, averting his gaze.

And he hasn’t. Initially when you first met Jungkook all those months ago you were terrified of him and the prospect of what he could do to you. He’s strong, a lot stronger than a regular bitten vampire, he’s a Pi Gasu vampire, much like your brother he was born for this life. It’s in his veins and always has been. Even before his twin sister died and secured his place in the immortal world, the monster he became lingered beneath the surface. Waiting. Begging to be freed.

But then you got to know Jungkook on a personal level, and he would do anything to keep you safe. The fact you’re standing in his house proves the fact on some level, despite having no soul, he does care about you. There have been moments together, heated moments, moments that will last an eternity in his mind, where he could’ve succumb to his inner demon and blood lust. But he didn't.

Jungkook’s features soften upon meeting your eyes, his doe-like eyes may be crimson red in colour but they’re swimming with emotion, enough to make you drown in them, “Truthfully I don’t know what’s worse,” He frowns, pierced lips parted, “Staying away from you makes me crave you more, but being near you…”

“Makes you want to kill me.” You clear your throat, somewhat overwhelmed by his presence.

A while ago he’d asked you if you believe in fate, soulmates, convinced that you and he were tied by the beauty of the moon. But as you watch the man in front of you physically struggle to breathe around you, you’re reminded that it’s nothing more than the curse of the Pi Gasu.

The corners of his lips quirk up into a soft smile, “It’s not the curse.” His voice is low, it’s still equal parts infuriating and endearing that he can read your thoughts and you’ll never get used to it. “You’re… It’s…. It’s more than that. If I were only interested in you because of the curse you would’ve been dead a long time ago. The curse complicates things, but, well…”

“Maybe it’d be better for everyone if I just died already and got this over with.” You chuckle, while you’re trying to ease the budding tension with a joke at your own expense it’s obvious Jungkook doesn’t see the funny side. His frown deepens, a small hum escaping him.

“Is that how you really feel?”

“I’m just saying…” You sigh, squeezing the towel wrapping your body a little tighter, “Eddie will transition into a vampire, he won’t be in pain anymore… And you won’t have to waste time searching for a miracle. You can go back to your normal life before we met—”

“My time will never be wasted when spent on you.” He takes a step forward, surprising you, his jaw clenched so tight you wonder if vampire bones are capable of shattering, “If it takes me forever to find a cure then so be it, I’m not prepared to let you die.”

You try to reason with him, shuffling a cautious step in his direction, “I don’t want my brother to be in pain anymore, if dying is the only way—”

“I’m not going to let that happen!” The projection of his voice startles you, but not as much as the loud bang followed by bricks crumbling around his feet after he punches the door frame does. You stare at him wide-eyed and frightened, unable to peer away from the way his chest heaves up and down with each angry breath. “I need more time… I’ll find a way.”

At this you lose it, laughing humourlessly before you match his volume and rage, “There isn’t another way Jungkook! You’ve tried!” You rush over to him, until you’re in arms-length distance and being mindful not to step in the aftermath of his temper, “I can’t live like this anymore, knowing that it’s hurting my brother… I just-, I want this to be over with. I’m ready.” You sigh, eyes fluttering shut. It’s such a relief to say that out loud.

Jungkook swallows, dark eyes zoned in on your face, “Well I’m not ready to lose you Y/N.”

“It has to be this way, to save my brother.”

“I'm not letting you go, not yet. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you,” He begins, trembling tattooed hands gently finding purchase on your bare shoulders, “You’re the poem the universe wrote only for me.”

A tiny gasp betrays you when his inked fingers find your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. It’s indescribable how beautiful the man is standing before you, even in his human life he must’ve been the most handsome person around. His eyes are dark in colour, framed by even darker delicate lashes. The pits of your stomach ignite with desire, along with an uncontrollable need to be closer to him. A pull so inhumane and sewn deep into your soul that you struggle to compare it to anything you’ve ever experienced. It's Jungkook’s breath warm against your lips that breaks you from the trance, gazing up at him with big eyes.

“I know you feel this too… This comfort, this desire…” He whispers, until his lips are a hair away from yours, his own eyes sliding shut, “The ache in your heart, is my promise to you that this is more than the curse. You belong with me.”

“Then change me.” You plead quietly, cupping his angled jaw with your hands, “There’s no way to beat the curse, if it’s death that completes his transition… Technically I’ll be dead. Change me.”

“There’s no guarantee it’ll save you brother, there’s no guarantee you’ll even survive it… There’s no evidence of a Pi Gasu twin being turned. It’s too risky. Your life isn’t something I’m willing to take chances on.”

You sigh again, pressing your forehead to his, “Please, Jungkook.”

“You may have nothing to lose, but if we do this I’ll lose everything.” His whisper comes with his arms snaking round your back, pressing your body to his own. “If you die—”

“We don’t know that I won’t survive it,” You hold his face tighter, silently begging him to grant this wish for you, “I can’t tolerate the thought of my life causing my brother pain anymore. Please, for me, please. It will work—”

“Do you realise what you’re asking of me?” He bites, and for a split second you swear you see his chin quiver. “I could never forgive myself if it didn’t work, if you died before I had the chance to really be with you.”

His admission sends a rush of guilt over you, you are asking a lot of him but there is no other way. He’s searched, his friends have searched, and no cure has been found. If you’re going to die regardless, at least it won’t be in vain.

“Then be with me.” You whisper, “Take me, however you want me, have me.” You kiss his cheek, not missing the way his hold of you grows stronger.

“It’s too dangerous.” His face his scrunched tightly, as though he’s having a difficult time being so close to you. Where his skin is usually ice cold his cheeks feel flushes beneath your palms, “If I lose control, even for a second…”

“You won’t.” You hush his concerns, thumbs tracing back and forth on his skin in an attempt to comfort him, “And if you do… You could change me. This will work, I promise.”

"What if it doesn't?" He whispers back.

"But what if it does?"

Large palms make their way up your back until they find purchase in your damp hair, and at that exact moment nothing else in the world matters. It’s both a blessing and a curse to feel for each other so deeply, so unwaveringly, that when his lips find yours you simultaneously feel broken and complete all at once. When he kisses you you’re left breathless, haphazardly grabbing at his body to get impossibly closer to him, something he reciprocates wordlessly.

Jungkook’s hands are all over your frame, his lips crushing yours hard enough to bruise, with such urgency it makes your head spin. It doesn’t take you long to slide his jacket from his broad shoulders, messily clawing down his back when his tongue elegantly glides into your mouth and dances with your own. You stand there for some time, embracing each other, kissing as though it’s the last time, choking on the thick sea of words neither of you are too brave to speak.

It's then that you’re being whisked downstairs faster than you can humanly process. Your back hits the mattress on the large bed centred in the basement, Jungkook’s body atop of your own and strong arms caging you in. His lips never leaving yours, kissing you with so much yearning and lust that it’s enough to make you feel as though you’re the only two people in the world. When your arms reach out to his shirt buttons the towel you’re wearing falls open, revealing your entirely naked body underneath him.

The scent of your exposed flesh must’ve been like heat from a foreign country smacking Jungkook straight in the face when stepping off a plane. He pulls back ever so slightly, calming himself, steadying his breathing while burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“I want you to know…” He exhales, voice thickened by bloodlust and greed, “That whatever happens, if this doesn’t work… In my own way, in my own morbid, sinister and selfish way. Not once in my centuries of existing have I ever felt this way about anyone.”

“Jungkook…” You whimper beneath him, ridding him of his thin shirt. You'd almost forgotten about the countless tattoos decorating his physique. The dark sleeves, the intricate artwork littering his entire body. The muscles on his body. He really is breath taking.

“To know you is to love you Y/N.”

Wet kisses smother your neck, filled with emotion and truths untold that have you sighing in bliss. He’s omnipresent, you can feel him in every inch of your body, his voice haunting your thoughts and his touch burning your flesh. His tongue glides over a sensitive spot on your neck and that’s when you feel his fangs, sharp and threatening, scratching the spot through the kisses. Jungkook’s movements grow more frantic, his mouth lapping up your taste before he hisses against you, shaking his head of the intrusive thoughts.

“It’s okay…” You whisper, “It’s okay… You won’t hurt me, I trust you.”

You feel his small smile against you, “A foolish mistake on your part.”

With your earlobe pinched between his teeth he rests his weight on one arm, snaking the other down to cup your breast. When his thumb grazes your nipple you both groan, overwhelmed by lust. Every nerve in your body is aflame, singing a song written for only Jungkook to hear. When his hand travels further down your bare body, until his fingers toy with your folds you lose all sense of who you are.

“Please,” You beg shamelessly, “Please touch me.”

“Once I start I won’t be able to stop Y/N,” Where his whispered warning should bring you to your senses, it does nothing save for fuel the burning desire in your body, “Being… Intimate with a vampire, it’s-, it’s not going to be like it is in the movies. It’s rough, it’s painful and it will hurt. Are you sure you want this?”

“I’m sure,” You nod along a little too eagerly, ready to be thrown into the volcano. “Come here…” You gently grip his head and tug his neck to your lips, peppering the clammy skin with lewd kisses, “Can I-, um…”

For the first time in a while you hear him chuckle, his white smile so boyish and bright you almost miss the threat of his predatory fangs completely, “You can. Don’t hold back, get a good amount of blood in case this ends badly. Bite me like your life depends on it.”

Because it does.

With a lot of effort your teeth sink into his flesh and the familiar taste of iron coats your tongue. It’s not pleasurable, not for a human, to taste blood. But the moment is intimate, like you’re tasting the forbidden fruit you’ve been told to avoid your whole life. You’ve tasted his blood before when you fooled around, mostly because he didn’t want to hurt you and knew a drop of his blood would help repair any injuries sustained. But this time it's different, this really may be your last night with him if things turn sour.

Soon your biting turns to kisses and Jungkook lowers his lips to the shell of your ear, his voice raspy yet serious, “Are you sure about this?”

“Positive.” You murmur against his skin, jaw falling slack with a gasp upon the sensation of his nimble fingers drawing firm circles over your sensitive area.

It’s euphoric, the feeling of coming undone beneath a monster you’ve lusted for since the moment you met him. Your body caged under his, his muscles sheltering you from the outside world. Like a rose guarded by it’s thorns, two halves a whole, neither one existing without the other. And as his ministrations grow more deliberate, dipping into where you crave him most, the rose begins to shed it’s petals. Layers of doubt, fear, uncertainty, falling onto the bedsheets with your discarded towel. Walls crumbling, only leaving the part of your soul that yearns for more. Your body language is something he is fluent in, understanding completely what you want and how to give it to you.

As you watch him slither down the sheets, until his face is buried into the plump flesh of your thigh, you feel like you’re falling. But he doesn’t let you touch the ground, catching you, he takes a deep breath through flared nostrils to steady himself before heavy eyes flicker to your face. Perhaps the most sinful feature of human nature is to give what we most wish to receive, and in this moment the only thing clouding the limited space between your bodies is the mutual need for intimacy.

To be loved.

Jungkook’s losing his mind, every ounce of self-restraint slowly dissipating into the carnal desire to claim you. To make you his in every sense of the word, until your minds, bodies and souls are eternally intertwined. His bare chest rises and falls in rhythm with your pounding heart, the scent of you flooding every sense he possess. Subconsciously his jaw tightens upon seeing your wet pussy shimmer in the dim lighting of the basement. The monster inside him has never been so painfully close to the surface in your presence, it’s a battle he knows he’ll ultimately lose and the neediness smothering your pretty features is far from helping the situation.

Open-mouthed kisses guide him to your swollen clit, where he takes it between his lips and begins to lap it up with a flattened tongue, sucking and licking until you’re writhing on the bed in equal parts shock and desperation.

“Fuck… Jung-, hnnng.” You moan breathlessly, feeling akin to being on cloud fucking nine, body tingling in every way imaginable. His licking grows heavier, more determined and erratic, barely giving you time to even out your unsteady breaths, “Shit, Jungkook.” You mewl, pushing your hips up to meet his greedy mouth.

His muscular arms sling themselves under your thighs, a bruising grip on your hips when he drags you closer to his face, the bend of his nose now flat against your core. You're no match for the shapes he's creating with his tongue. you don't stand a change against the harsh sucks and groans he's delivering. It’s as if he’s enjoying this equally as much as you, thick brows pinched in concentration while the hold he has on your bones turns painful. Hearing you cry out from the combination of pain and pleasure only spurs him on more, smothering himself between your legs where he eats you out so ravenously your legs twitch and tremble either side of his face.

“Jungk-, ohhh…” Your eyes glide back into your skull, hands roughly and quickly finding their way into the depths of his raven hair. With urgency you push his bangs away from his face to get a better view of the unholy display unfolding before your very eyes.

The dark veins framing his hooded gaze should deter you, turn you off, make you scream for an entirely different reason. But they don’t. In spite the noticeable bruising around his eye sockets, drawing attention to the beast inside him, you’ve never wanted him more.

It’s when he looks up at you that you realise exactly what he was referring to earlier. Despite having consumed his blood the strength he’s grabbing your body with hurts. You’re frowning, lips ajar to allow your shallow breaths and quiet whimpers escape freely. The pain is soon forgotten about when Jungkook hisses against you, sucking in a sharp breath before diving right back in, visibly losing control.

We don’t fall in love with the pure intentions in people, we fall in love with the darkness we recognise in others. From the moment your eyes met his, you knew there was something inside his demonic stare that felt like home. It’s all overwhelming, contradicting, confusing, but boy is it addicting.

It’s a stab to the heart and being brought back to life in the same moment, knowing it hurts but unable to pinpoint where. Just knowing you want more of it, until you’re gasping for air and drowning in the sea of possibilities. Further proving that if it doesn’t hurt, ache and bleed, it’s not love; and the way he holds your body strong enough to break it has you finally making sense of the term ‘to love someone to death’.

“Jungkook… I’m-,” You pant, tugging and pulling his hair, “I’m close. Please…” Your body shakes and jolts with ecstasy, the fire in your stomach never burning hotter. The pornographic sounds of him savouring every drop of arousal you’re giving him floods your ears, fogs your mind and throws you head first over the edge.

“Fuck! I’m coming! I’m coming! Don’t stop!”” You gasp, back arching from the sheets, hands flying to your scalp to helplessly tug your hair.

Your frame is punched with the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had, pulsating with pleasure that comes in white-hot waves. Had Jungkook been human the way you’re pressing your thighs together from the overstimulation would have his eyes pop out his skull. Instead his face stays there, stare hungrily dragging itself up and down the spans of your sweaty body. His movements slow into an eventual nothing, aiding you ride out your high, until he’s suddenly above you, crashing his face to yours in a bloodthirsty kiss.

“Take more,” He orders, craning his neck to give you easier access to where you bit him previously, “I’m-, have more. Please. I’m not gonna be able to hold back much longer, I don’t want to hurt you.” The genuine pain weaved into his words sparks a panic inside you, this is him holding back? You think about how tightly he held you, how your bones almost crumbled beneath his fingertips. So you do as he says, biting him again until a soft moan emits from his pierced lips and catches you off guard.

“If this is too much for you…” You say quietly, guilt eroding your insides, “We don’t-, I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this for me. If you’re not having a good time—”

You’re cut short by the sound of Jungkook’s breathy laughter, sounding disbelieved. He meets your eye contact with a smirk, still panting for air, “How can I put this to you?” He’s laughing, wetting his lips between smiles, “To call what we’ve just done ‘a good time’ is a fucking insult. I’ve never felt seduction like this, I want to have you, to take you, to consume you in every way imaginable until you’re mine.” There’s a possessiveness to his tone, one what reignites the fire of passion.

“I’m already yours.” You whisper, in what feels like a very profound moment where time itself comes to a halt.

Jungkook stills, swallowing the needy noises that threaten to betray him when you start kissing his neck again, softly, featherlight, showing him no fear or hesitation. You want this, just as much as he does, “Everything I am, everything I have to give, is yours Y/N.”

And just like that he’s kissing you again, feverishly, hopelessly, like a love sick fool glutton for punishment.

The tension picks up quickly, atmosphere shifting into something more sinister as Jungkook begins to lose his resolve. His body is tense, jaw tight, eyes slid shut and white teeth bared in a threatening snarl against your cheek. A hand reaches out to the wooden bedframe to steady himself, but instead it crumbles between his fingertips and he has no choice but to keep himself still to stay calm.

“Are you okay?” You peer up at him, expression innocent yet screaming concern.

Jungkook growls, he knew this moment would happen sooner or later but he doesn’t have time to dwell on the specifics. When his eyes lock with yours they’re deep red, rich, oozing lust, a born predator stalking his prey.

“You’re mine.”

A moment later he’s shed of any clothing, hovering above you, chest heaving up and down while panting for air. Your scent is everywhere, it’s enough to make his eyes roll back into his skull when he bites his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. The tattoos, the muscles, the bumps and bends of his body have you silently pleading for him to take you, it’s the last thing Jungkook sees in your eyes before the monster inside finally takes over.

The lust that overcomes a vampire when aroused is like nothing any human would understand. The need, the urgency, the craving that weighs down their limbs and clouds their judgement. Any rational thinking dissolves quickly and the frenzy kicks in strong. With flared nostrils and unsteady deep breaths he lines his cock up to your entrance, hands trembling with anticipation and greed.

“Take me Jungkook,” Your voice is like that of an angel’s when it lands on his ears, quiet and calm, “I’m yours.”

With that statement your walls struggle to accommodate the size of his length as he pushes into you, the two of you groaning and gasping at the new mind-blowing sensation. Your hands are pinned above your head, held in place by the bone crushing grip Jungkook has on them with one hand, the other pawing at your left breast while his tongue finds your other nipple, swirling against it hungrily.

“Fuck!” You cry, never feeling so full in your life, “Jungkook… Oh my-, oh-, nnngh.” You whine pathetically between tiny breaths. You were warned that being intimate with a vampire was no easy feat, you knew it would hurt, and yet you’re still surprised at just how much it hurts.

“Who do you belong to?” Jungkook growls against your skin, pulling back his hips until he’s almost fully out of you before slamming himself back inside. Your organs already feel bruised, bones aching, head spinning. Yet there’s something tremendously addicting and pleasurable behind the pain.

“Y-you.” You hiss.

The roll of his hips is already overbearing, physically and emotionally pushing you to your limits. With each feral thrust you feel weaker, legs shaking in time with your pants for air. You’ve never given much thought to why mating with a vampire is illegal, Jungkook had explained to you that it’s extremely dangerous and the repercussions of these actions. Yet to experience it first hand is another thing entirely. The stretch is almost too much to handle, so much so that you shriek when you’re equally blessed and cursed by a particularly harsh thrust.

“Aaah!” Your eyes squeeze shut, mirroring the way your walls tighten around the girth currently stuffing you senseless.

“Fuck. Oh fuck.” You barely register the words lost to the sound of his moans and groans against your flesh, too caught up in your own self-awareness and thoughts. This is really happening, you’re fucking Jungkook. And Jungkook is annihilating you.

Once you’re adjusted to the brutal pace he’s set, plunging in and out of you, the pleasure slowly creeps up on you like a stalker in the night. It’s there, you can sense it, you know it’s coming and you cling onto the feeling of growing arousal inside you as a way to deal with the aches and pains spreading your frame. Focussing on how good this feels, you manage to find a sense of bliss.

As though he read your mind, Jungkook snakes a hand down your body to your clit, rubbing the area firmly to amplify the pleasure you’re feeling. The movements of his hand match the snaps of his hips. Hard, deep, inhumane, but it’s enough to regain some strength in your limbs and reignite the fire of passion in the depths of your abdomen.

“Shhh, shit-“ You choke out, completely enamoured by the sensation, “Keep going. Just like that.”

"I knew you'd be able to take me," He gasps when you clench around him again, "Fuck... Mmmph."

"Please, don't stop..." You whimper, your second high fast approaching thanks to his huge cock effortlessly brushing past your most sensitive spot with each roll of his hips, "Please."

"I could fuck you for eternity." He spits, lips tucked between his teeth while trying to remain calm, tightening the grip of your bound hands with his own, "I'm going to fuck you for eternity baby. Every night, mmmph, forever."

"Forever." Your voice is barely audible over Jungkook's loud moans every time he fucks into you, the sound alone sparking a whole new wave of need inside you.

“You’re mine,” He reiterates between ragged breaths, “All fucking mine.”

“All yours.” You sigh, growing hotter and sweatier all while being drilled into the mattress beneath you, “I’m all yours, and you’re mine.”

And that he is. He’s spent the last eight centuries guarding his heart, guarding it so viciously that others questioned if he even had one. It may not beat, it may not pump blood through his body, it may not work at all. But even then, in its broken, shabby, moth-eaten and frozen state. It belongs to you. Each part of his being, both man and beast, is undeniably, unfathomably, and uncontrollably yours.

He can’t blame the curse for his feelings, the fact alone that you make him capable of feeling anything is all the proof he needs that you’re his mate. His true mate. Just because you’re a Pi Gasu, a blood singer, doesn’t mean the emotions surging his core aren’t real. He’s fucking you hard enough to break you, to kill you, if it were nothing more than the curse drawing him to you he would’ve bitten and drained you by now, he's being intimate with you because he wants to.

Therein lies the biggest mistake Jungkook could’ve ever made. With your naked, exposed, vulnerable body quivering beneath him – he thinks about your blood. The romantic taste it leaves on his tongue, the thick scent of it flooding this entire room, his nostrils, how your arousal makes it sweeter…

“Jungkook, oh my—” You whine, muffling your shy moans behind your teeth that are sunken into your lips.

Without warning the grip he has of your hands tightens again, and your eyes fly open in a panic when you hear, when you feel the bones in your fingers snap. You stare at Jungkook, dumbfounded, in a state of shock. But he’s too zoned in on your neck to notice your features, he hasn’t registered what’s just happened despite the fact your fingers are like putty in his hands. His grip tightens once more, this time your wrist shatters like the bedframe did earlier, and you can’t help but scream.

"Ahh!"

“Shit shit shit, fuck!” Jungkook snaps out of his daze, face full of horror upon seeing what he’s done, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” In a frenzy of contradicting emotion he takes his hand away from your wrist, grabbing your hip to still your bodies – except the pressure from his vice-like hold is strong enough to crush your bones.

“Ahh—!” You’re coughing, spluttering, crying when it feels as though your hipbone has been ground down to dust and popped out of socket, paralysed with pain. “Jungkoo-, plea-, stop.” You choke, and the red tinge to his eyes quickly fades into chocolate brown. He raises his shaky hands to prove to you he’s not going to touch you, withdrawing himself from your body entirely.

“I-, Y/N… I’m sorry. I-, I lost it… Fuck, I’m s—”

“It hurts-, it-, it hurts.” You sob, physically incapable of moving your broken body on the bed, “Please… M-make it stop!” You’re roaring inconsolably, which tugs on the vampire’s heart strings a lot harsher than he’d prepared for. Nothing could’ve prepared him for seeing you in this much agony, nothing could’ve prepared you for feeling this much agony.

“I'll make it stop,” He nods once, twice, three times to syke himself up, “This is going to hurt, but it’ll take away the pain soon I promise.” With your eyes squeezed shut you manage to nod at him, giving him the only confirmation he needed to lower his lips to your jugular.

It’s a bittersweet moment for him, finally having the consent to bite you. But at what cost? He hurt you, something he’d promised himself he’d never do. And biting you now, after you’ve consumed his blood is going to change the course of your life forever. That’s if it even works… It should’ve prevented your bones from breaking, but it didn’t. Shaking the intrusive thoughts from his mind he kisses your neck tenderly, fluttering his eyes shut as mutual greed and despair takes over his immortal being.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, before plunging his sharp fangs into the supple skin of your neck as easy as a blade through soft butter.

The second your blood stains his tongue, it’s over. Not just for your mortality, your soul, but for Jungkook too. It was one thing to drink your blood from the donation vials you’d gifted him previously, but to feast on you in such an intimate way in such a sacred moment is unbearable. He grips your body tightly, shattering a few of your ribs in the process to tug you even closer, all while his eyes roll into the back of his skull. You taste like every sonnet ever written, like every genuine smile you’ve ever gifted him, he’s never tasted such romance that it’s impossible for him to stop.

“Jungkook…” You’re growing weaker by the moment, the agony broken bones forgotten about, replaced by a searing hot pain on your neck that makes you want to shriek and sob. Except you’re too frail to move, to complain, instead having to take the hurt for what it is and pray that it’s over soon.

“Jung-,” You’re lightheaded, rapidly emptying of blood as your eyelids grow heavy. It’s a selfless thought, your final one, prompting the corners of your lips to curl into a smile. At least your brother will be okay. “-Kook… I-,” Your breaths slow, as does your heart, but you’ll be damned if you die without speaking your truth, “-love you.”

Your heartfelt confession forces him back to reality, he gulps, somehow finding the inner strength to stop and let go of your body. With a heaving chest and aching heart he retracts his fangs, replacing them with a soft kiss to the wound he’s created. A kiss so heartfelt that Shakespeare himself would have difficulty describing it. It takes him a selfish moment to steady himself, to fully shake the demon within to the back of his thoughts and appreciate your words and their magnitude. His forehead rests against your cheek, his hair damp and wayward, sticking to his skin as he smiles.

“To say I love you too would be an understatement,” He exhales, withdrawing from your face when you don’t react, “Y/N?”

Death is so beautiful. To have certainty, no yesterday and no tomorrow, no misery or doubt, just eternal peace. Envy brews inside Jungkook at the prospect of those capable of dying, to be the first to say goodbye, to lay forever in the soil and be a part of something more. The circle of life, the balance and harmony of the universe. At least that’s how he viewed death until he saw the light fade away from your eyes.

“Y/N?!”

He sits back on his knees, panicking, only now registering just how much damage he’s caused. Your body is warped, a mangled version of the epitome of beauty it was before. Not once has Jungkook ever felt remorse for his killings, it’s not in his nature. But the sight before him has him feeling sick to his stomach. He did this.

“Y/N?! No, no no no no…” Frantically shaking his head in denial his hands find the towel, covering your intimate areas with it to spare you some dignity, “Come on… Come on… The venom should be working, stay with me baby, stay with me!”

Love never dies a natural death. It withers away from the wrongdoings of the person we trusted most. The deceit, the pain and betrayals. It dies because of us, the consequences of our own actions. In it’s final hours love hurts so much that we feel numb to the pain, and even though we know the inevitable is coming, the execution destroys us.

And Jungkook loved you so much that it killed you.

“Please, you can’t leave me! You-, we were meant to be forever.. Please, come on come on come on...”

For the first time in his immortal existence Jungkook is scared. You should’ve turned by now, you should be like him. He’s turned many before, all of which showed signs of life after death within seconds of dying. It was a risky move to make, turning you when knowing of your lineage and the Pi Gasu curse, but even he must admit deep down he thought this would work. The silence in the basement is deafening, not even a trace of you beating heart remains.

"I've searched for so long to find you, please," He's desperate, leaning down to bite the other side of your neck. Your wrist, your arms, his fangs even make their way down to your thighs to bite you there too. The venom should be working. Why isn't it fucking working?!

It's then that he maps out a plan, one that will end his anguish if you really are dead. He’s to report your death to the council, they would never let him live knowing that he mated with you, never mind the fact he murdered you. The council consists of the world’s oldest, strongest vampires that implore the laws and see out punishments for ones broken. He’ll be executed. He knows first hand that he will suffer, it will be torture, the same pain he inflicted on others when he was a part of the council before he fled. Even then, nothing could ever hurt him more than living, if that’s what he is, knowing what he’s done.

“I’m so sorry,” His quivering lips part, allowing sobs to escape freely.

Even in death you take his breath away.

Unbeknownst to Jungkook you’re screaming for him not to worry, soul banging against the flesh of your body as the venom of his bites spreads your veins. It’s indescribable, agonising and paralysing. Internally you have the energy to run a thousand miles, the room smells different, there are dust particles falling in front of your eyes that you so desperately want to catch between your fingertips that feel restored to their usual structure. Yet you can't bring your body to move a single muscle.

You’re pleading, begging for him to stop crying and see that it worked. It worked. Eddie's transition will be complete just as you finish your own. You’re right here with Jungkook, where you’ll always be.

Forever.

“I should’ve never put you at risk like this… I-, I should’ve shown more restraint. I should’ve never let this happen.” He continues, sparks igniting your skin when his cool fingers trace your profile before he shuts your eyelids for you.

“I spent centuries searching for you, longing for your touch… Only for my touch to be the weapon that kills you. I would’ve given you the world and yet I’m the one to take it from you. The irony of loving someone so much it kills you is wasted on me, I feel nothing short of heartbroken.”

Please, please don’t cry, you think, please.

The world’s greatest love stories are defined by tragedy, and there is nothing more tragic than finally embracing your adoration and love for someone when it’s too late. How selfish of you both, to only truly appreciate the other and the comfort they brought you once it faded into darkness. It takes every ounce of strength, every shred of adrenaline in your body to flutter your eyes back open. And when you do, you're greeted with the sight of Jungkook sobbing into his hands.

Your voice is hoarse, throat burning, as though you've just died and come back to life, but when it registers in your mates brain his gaze snaps to yours instantly, and he grins.

"I-I'm thirsty."

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook series #vampire!jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #bts vampire au #bts fantasy au #jungkook x oc #vamp!jk #jungkook vampire #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook bts #vampire ff #jungkook ff #vampire fiction #vampire smut #jungk0oksthighs

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lucrativesoul · 6 months

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Divine Beings

summary: your new job at the town's old mansion-museum is a dream, but it's even more so to be working within its centuries old library. this building is fueled by the ancient lore of the undead walking the halls. it's all just tales, right? your archive master and new boss, Leon, knows all about those divine beings.

pairing: leon kennedy x female reader

word count: 13.0k

warnings: smut, borderline public sex (no voyeurism), blood ingestion

a/n: i can't begin to tell you guys how excited i am to be posting this. consider this my halloween gift, but we all know the darker genres are not just for the season! I had so much fun writing this. diving head first into this has really helped me through this rough time in my life situationships are hell and if no one got me at least leon got me :') (and u guys ofc) thank you so much for stopping by and reading, i really really hope you enjoy, and I promise to be back soon with another one. <3

“It won’t be too much of a challenge.” The soft voice coming from the woman in front of you bounced off the walls and high ceilings, making her even harder to decipher than she was in the first place. “All questions about the archive can be redirected to the master archivist, and I’m sure sooner or later you will be retaining all of that important information.”

You said nothing as you followed her down the hall, the click of your heels ever prominent amongst the deserted expanse. For a mansion built hundreds of years ago, they did well to keep it tidy and up to standard. You were impressed.

At the end of the long hall, yellow from the lamps glittering in intervals in the hall, you could see a grand set of large mahogany doors, intricately carved with inlays that you can only imagine must have taken just as long to complete as the residence itself. The initial nerves of the morning were gone, and now you were just more excited than anything to be able to enter one of the oldest libraries in a hundred mile radius, and now you work here.

The smaller lady who was guiding you, whose name you have already forgotten, leaned all her weight on the doors and pushed both of them inward, the two slabs of wood swinging open revealing possibly your most anticipated sight of your life.

The entryway was one tiny landing, with large staircases birthing off the sides to your left and right, making a gentle curve to the main floor. The walls, well, simply put, there were no walls, rather everything that would have been a wall was lined floor to ceiling with bookshelves, each one packed with differing widths, heights, colors of books, paperback, leather, hardcover, fabric. In the middle of the room were more free standing shelves, still packed to the brim, and the occasional long wooden table with seats scattered about the room. Directly opposite the entryway was a large window, facing the front of the mansion, and it served as the main attractor to the building. Rectangular at the bottom, it shaped off at the top, nearly fifty feet high, in a gothic style pointed arch, nestled gently in between two, much skinnier, similarly shaped windows, which were fixed off at the top with stained glass, giving the brown room rays of color on the sunny days.

You stepped forward, and having seemingly expected this reaction, your guide didn’t say a word for a moment while you took in your grand view. You almost couldn’t speak. It was more than you were expecting. It was everything.

Though it was a sunny day, you already found yourself anticipating the oncoming bad weather, knowing the treacherous drive through the rain would be so worth it to be here on a rainy day.

“Let’s go down to the archive office.” The woman’s tone was gentle, knowing you most likely would not have moved from your spot if she didn’t push you along. You followed her down the left staircase.

There were a few stragglers in the grand room. The manion’s open hours were not near close yet, but you were surprised there weren’t more people here at this hour. You doubted that it had anything to do with the age old rumors about the estate, there was no way people truly kept away because of those tall tales.

After coming off the staircase, you craned your neck up high, reveling in the surrounding papers and scrolls adorning the walls. You tried your best to keep up with the woman while also having your attention diverted, but had to fully look down when she ducked into a corridor below the main landing.

This hallway was plain and simple, and you felt your resolve slowly crumble away as you remembered why you were here–a job.

“The furthest of my knowledge is to bring you into the archive office and wait for the master archivist to meet you here. If you want to take a seat, he should be here shortly. Welcome to the museum crew.” She smiled at you, and after a thank you, you pulled out the seat in front of the desk and sat down. Alone in the room now, you turned your head to look at the surroundings, trying to gauge what type of environment this would be.

Despite your history in the field, you were still surprised when you got a call back wanting to have an interview, and when that went well and you were hired a week later, shock still warmed your body, paired with the growing excitement when you realized you would be working in the epicenter of your old town’s rich history museum and archive, and the home of all the town’s tall tales.

With all your years of studying classic literature spinning the yarn of mythical creatures, it was a no brainer when you saw this opportunity present itself.

You jumped in your chair when your name was spoken in a low rasp. You turned around briskly.

“I’m sorry, you startled me.” You stood in an instant, extending your hand, ready to introduce yourself, but it appeared the stranger already knew who you were.

“It’s alright, many say I have that effect.” You sat down at his gesture to do so, and he walked around the opposite side of the bland, deep wooden desk. This man, instantly captivating, wore a simple white button down with a crisp black vest over top. He had a wiry pair of glasses tucked into the collar, where the top button lay opened. His hair was a dirty blonde, browning at the roots. The sharp contours of his face showed years of experience, and you caught no air of uncertainty from the way he presented himself. Intrigued would be an understatement.

“Did our lobby host introduce you well? I know one walk down the foyer isn’t nearly a fraction of the time needed to look around, but, maybe it gave a taste to what’s to come.”

You nodded gently, your eyes still trained on his face. “Oh, yes, she most definitely let me take it in for a moment. I can’t wait to know everything better.”

He nodded, shifting through a folder and some papers. You were almost embarrassed at how you couldn’t take your eyes away from him, not even for a second, hoping the staring would come second to whatever information he was about to share with you.

“What drew you here? It’s quite tucked away.” He was still not looking at you, so you made no move to avert your own gaze.

“Well,” You began, taking a second to form a proper sentence. “I’ve always wanted to work in a grand archive like this one. It is just so full of new opportunities, new experiences. I’ve always loved this place.”

He nodded. “I felt the same as well. I wish I could tell you how swelled I was when I walked in here the first time, but it was so long ago, I barely remember it. Anyway,” He studied the paper intensely, then looked back up at you. You felt heated suddenly. “You had a pretty extensive background in literary culture, criticism, and classic studies. You were with a publishing branch for a few years?”

You nodded. “It didn’t pan out to my hopes, and I jumped at this chance when I saw they were on the hunt for a new archivist.”

He hummed. “I was. I was looking for someone new. Our last had left us suddenly, we had a vacancy.” You nodded again, the innate curiosity taking over about the ex-archivist. “So, you understand the majority of your job title, yes?” Nodded again, but said nothing so he could continue. “Basically, working side by side with me, the better half of our tasks will unfortunately be rearranging once the public comes through, they tend to leave things everywhere, I’m sure you know, and the other half is once our doors are closed, we do many of the repairs on the classics, restocking our souvenir books, and the tedious paperwork that comes along with the museum establishment.”

For a final time, you nodded. “I’m greatly looking forward to it.”

Now, he looked into your eyes, and he tilted his head gently forward. “I’m greatly looking forward to you joining us. As of right now, it’s just me and one other, so now it’s three.”

You smiled, then it faltered a moment once you remembered something. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if you said your name.”

His lopsided grin painted a picture in your mind that you knew you would be seeing even when you closed your eyes. “Leon Kennedy. Master archivist.”

–

You hadn’t imagined you would live to see a day when you were looking forward to stepping into your place of work, but this had proven you wrong. You were motivated by the mere thought of being surrounded by all the books and pages, all the knowledge you could possibly dream about, learning something new every day.

But, you knew secretly since starting, you would be lying to yourself if you denied the effect that Leon had on your willingness to come in everyday. He greeted you with gentleness, and you couldn't help but always match his energy when you walked into the office in the morning hours. Always spotting the grin on his face at the sight of you as well. It grew to a blazing heat in your chest to see this reaction.

There was a routine you followed with great ease after only a week. It truly was the most of what Leon had said it would be, and to your own surprise, when curious visitors asked about the archive’s collections, you picked up on the correct answers faster than you had expected.

One of your favorite end of day tasks, oddly enough, was replacing the books that visitors had taken off the shelves to browse. It exposed you to so much literature and titles that you had or hadn’t heard of, and gave you a better idea of the archive itself, and its shelf locations. There was nothing more relaxing in your life than admiring the centuries of artform adoring these bookcases.

Here, you found yourself sliding leather bounds back into their places, reveling at every cover for as long as you could get away with, feeling the slick material slide under your fingers as you pushed them into their homes on the shelves. Taking two steps forward, looking down at the engraving in the cover, embossed in golden letters, you startle when you knock into something hard, grip hardening on the book so as not to drop or damage it.

“I’m so sorry, Leon. I didn’t even hear you coming. Very quiet.” He looked down at you, his deep black shirt sucking the color out of everything around him. An amused expression danced on his features.

“So people have told me. I was trying to find you earlier for a question, but you’ve eluded me for the last thirty minutes.”

You smiled gently, but had to avert your eyes down to the books you were still caressing, lest your eyes should wander over the fabric stretched thin over his upper arms. You did not need this mental image lasting with you for who knows how long.

“Sorry for that, but, here I am. What’s up?”

Leon, so you have come to the conclusion, is much different than any overseer of a job you have had in the past. HIs gentle authoritative style pushed you in the correct direction he wanted you to take as an archive employee, but he never became harsh or strict with any of his guidelines. In fact, the way he approached conversation felt much more like a casual coworker rather than a boss.

“I had an opportunity you may be interested in. Finish your tasks here, and come up to my office. We can discuss it, I think you’ll be intrigued.”

You nodded, but grabbed his attention quickly at the notice of a small piece of information. “Wait, Leon,” He turned around at the sound of his name. “Your office? I don’t know where that is, I don't think I have been there yet.”

He nodded slowly. “Of course, I forgot. I’ll wait over by the information desk for you to finish. Don’t rush.”

You nodded, though he had already turned around. You took an extra second to trace his path with your gaze, wondering what this tight, breathless feeling in your chest was every time he was in your presence.

With empty hands, you stalked over to the center of the room, finding Leon’s back to you, hands shuffling through a stack of folders. He disregarded them when he heard you approach.

“Follow me.” Then, with a small impressed gesture on his face, “Faster than I expected.”

You said nothing as you followed him through the library, watching his back intently as if something were going to happen any second. Surely he could feel the way you were staring, how could he not? If this were you, you would have felt someone looking all over you.

He presented you to a discreet door tucked into the back wall of the archive, a mere few feet away from the large windows, now letting the dying sunset light in to paint the room orange. He stepped aside to let you in first, but what you were expecting to see was nowhere in sight. Instead of an office, a room, even a closet with a desk, chair, and maybe even a computer, it was a staircase. A spiral staircase at that, and it looked like it went up at least thirty feet.

“Your office is up there?” You couldn't help but ponder out loud while staring listlessly, yet amazed, above. You heard him snicker behind you.

“It is. How could I not have taken that one when presented to me? Go on. They won’t get any shorter.”

You shook your head to snap yourself out of the sudden daze, and carefully took the steps. This location was painfully plain compared to the rest of the archive, and part of you understood why, but also wished you had something to look at on the way up.

The tall, dark, wooden door presented in front of you looked like an import from the homes of the finest wood slabs of ebony, intricate carvings on each of the inlays. Not even the doors of the archive looked like this, it seemed such a waste to be hidden up these stairs, guarding Leon's private office. Maybe he personally requested this door to be here. What an interesting design choice, if so.

You pushed it open, not waiting for further instruction as there would have been nothing else to do. This office held far more personality than the one you were used to seeing on the ground floor, and you were positive you could spend just as many hours dissecting the shelves in this little room as you could on the main exhibit.

It was clear this room was built out of what might have been a buttress back in the gothic ages, the ceiling was high, circular and pointed, raw wooden beams were exposed to support the cone roof above you. The shelves were rounded, contrasted with the straight edge ones below. Books that looked as old as the dawn of time were cluttered on these shelves, a thought that almost made you panic, the treatment of them would make their casings fall off their backs faster than usual.

Leon didn’t miss any of your observations. “These are from a collection that I couldn’t possibly put down on the main floor, obviously they have seen better days. They don’t need more of the public’s touch to wither them even further.”

You swallowed, and forced yourself to face him. He was taking a seat in a grand maroon velvet desk chair. Even that looked ornate. “Aren’t you worried handling them like this is even worse?”

He gestured at the seat in front of the desk, then shook his head. He spoke only when you sat down. “They have been with me for years, I know how they behave by now.”

You had nothing to say in return, so you simply affixed your gaze onto his, waiting to hear the reason he brought you up here.

“You’ve found a passion in this place, I can tell.” His voice was low, and it made you shiver. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone treat this place like a living entity.”

“It feels alive…” You started, but had no way to finish. He was drawing the words right from your mind.

“I do believe so as well. What brought you here? Besides what you studied making this a readily available opportunity.”

You looked down for a moment. Truthfully, it was a little childish why you were here. You knew that much and you could at least admit that to yourself. But, could you admit that to Leon? It had turned out that you loved this place as much as you would love a home you had been in for years, this place never became a burden to walk into, and you doubted that it would ever become that. You didn’t know what kind of answer he was expecting to hear from you, but Leon could be trusted. You knew that well enough by this point. He expressed his gratitude to your presence to the archive many times and surely, don’t you owe him the truth for that?

“To be honest with you…” You started tentatively. His face showed no shift in expression. “I have loved this place since I was a child. Something about it, maybe the aura, drew me to it. That’s why I think I feel it… why it feels so alive to me.” He nodded, not interrupting your thoughts. “This town’s folklore is something I loved for all my life.”

This time, he closed his eyes and nodded slowly, as if finally understanding why you had come here. And, he did, as that once sentence, you knew, would explain to any local why you chose this mansion. This archive.

“Maybe that’s silly of me,” You shook your head at yourself slightly. “But I think I owe it to the child who directed my path in life.”

He smiled at you, no sense of mockery on his face. “Let me ask you this, though,” You sat still, waiting. “Do you believe?”

You did not need to think this time. “Yes. I do.”

Leon leaned back in his chair and let his forearms lay on the armrests by his sides. “I think you are wise for that. Many choose to stop believing in folklore once they hit such an age where they know stories from historical recounts, but, don’t you think the two meld together at some point?”

You nodded. “I have always believed in that. And as soon as I stepped in here… the minute I came here to get this job, and even as a child, when I saw this place, I knew the stories were true. There’s no way that this place doesn’t have its hidden secrets.”

“Hidden in plain sight. Everyone talks of the vampire roaming the halls.” Leon added.

You quirked a smile– you couldn't help it. “What’s not to believe about that? I can feel it when I'm here.”

Leon nodded, his smile not fading. After this conversation, you knew you made the right choice in choosing to trust Leon. How could you not?

“People are drawn here on the idea that they will spot him somewhere, but look far too closely. They think every staff member could be him in disguise. They look down every dark hallway wishing to see him slinking around the corner, trying to hide. They look in every window from the outside, thinking he is hiding from the sun. But, there comes the melding, and the separating of truth and fiction. Why should he be doing those things, because they believe it to be true, or because they were told to believe it?”

You had nothing to say to this at first. You knew Leon would be holding a plethora of information on the mansion-museum’s lore as being home to the city's resident vampire from centuries ago. You couldn’t consume enough information on the idea, and yet, Leon still stunned you with what he had to say about it, simply because he had been here to see the behavior of those who believe in him. You wished he would keep talking about it, but knew that the premonition of a mythical being lurking the hallways was probably not the reason he brought you up here to talk about in the first place.

“Your candor is appreciated here.” He held his smile, and his eyes were sincere along with his spoken words. The windows didn’t allow an incredible amount of light into the room, the lamp sitting by his side on the desk casting a yellow haze over the space, the red lampshade drenching everything above in a blood tint. Even through this distortion, you could see how blue his irises were. Icy. A tingle ran across the skin of your arms.

“Now, for what you are actually up here for.” He broke the gaze, and you involuntarily released a sigh of relief. Looking down at his desk, in nothing in particular, you noticed there was nothing of importance on its surface, he continued. “Every so often, for no reason other than to bring variety in, we have a few shelves in the center of the floor that we rearrange to bring in new displays, or to shift the attention to something else.” You nodded, and you were sure you knew he was going to ask for your assistance in moving everything. You didn't mind. “Right now the table has displays of books on the history of witchcraft and others of the sort, quite fitting for the upcoming season, but quite the insult to the monument they’ve decided to promote within.” He sighed. You couldn’t help but smile. “But, I think we can get even better.”

“I have ideas. I think I could help with this.”

Leon smiled wider. A gesture he doesn't often show to the general patronage. It made you feel warm. “That’s what I was hoping you would say. Now, though, an unfortunate part.” He sighed, and his smile disappeared. More shivers took place in your body of the heat. “I would prefer it to be done by the end of this week, and because the mighty institution is using the Halloween season to promote museum ticket sales,” Another sigh. “They’ve extended our opening hours. Now, we, as the archive, do have the liberty to close our area before they close the museum’s doors, but I've been strongly advised against doing so.”

You nodded again, listening. He shrugged, looking at you, as if waiting for an input you didn’t know you should give. You squeaked out an agreement.

“I would like to shift two days of your hours to overnight. Would that be a problem?”

“It’s not. This is my full time job now, so I'm at your expense.”

He chuckled softly at your words. “Not an expense, just… assistance.”

Nonetheless, even if Leon did agree to your words of expense, you would be agreeing. He told you the guidelines, don’t come in for the day shifts, just come in for the nighttime. He handed over a key, an old, brass one that he told you would unlock the large archive doors after hours. You agreed with no hesitation, of course.

You had discovered soon after this, that fear could exist in the same plane as excitement. Really, isn’t fear just an overwhelming excitement of something unknown? Standing in front of the mansion, you craned your neck as far back as your body would allow. The looming building was dark, save for a few spotlights, but other than that, it was as dead as the night around you. The suspicious lack of insect and animal life noises was eerie, but you swallowed that lump of nerves, and walked up to the front.

As Leon instructed you, flashing your badge to the night guards let you right through, and you followed the path you have come to know so well that led right to the archive doors.

It was a strange aura that surrounded you, one that made you hesitate briefly before unlocking, and relocking yourself inside. The air was so still, and that life you felt pulsing through the corridors on a daily basis was missing now. There was nothing, no one, no noise to fill your ears, so the blood pumping through was your only solace now. Before you could sit on this any longer and unease yourself further, you moved on.

The lock slid cleanly into place, and the resounding click that was heard resonated throughout the hall. You pushed the door open, wanting to get away from any undead lurking eyes that may be watching you.

Not turning to shut the door behind you, you stared out into the vast expanse of the dark archive. The shelves were still, though shadows flitted in between them as if dancing with the moonlight. Every time you blinked, dark figures appeared at the edge of your vision, teasing your brain, making a shudder do its rounds throughout your nervous system. Though you loved this place, the nighttime gave it a whole new personality you weren’t sure you were quite ready to uncover.

Turning to your right, you flipped the first two lightswitches, casting a spotlight down onto the center of the floor, and one at the door where you stood. You nearly jumped out of your skin when you turned back around.

“Leon!” You cried out.

Said man was in the center of the floor, as if coming out to greet you like it was the middle of the day. He had on a white button down, the first two loose around his neck, and his hair falling lazily over the left side of his forehead. It took even longer for your breath to still.

“You’re here?” You gasped out.

“Yes, I was wondering when you would get here. I guess you are right on schedule, though.” You carefully fled down the stairs, not taking your eyes off Leon, curious if he would disappear again.

“Here with all the lights off? How could you see?” He didn’t answer your question until you were now face to face with him, having placed your belongings on the staircase, figuring you would not be spending much time in the office.

He shrugged slowly. “You get used to it after a while. There’s something about this place at night, I don’t get many chances to enjoy it with only myself.” You said nothing to this, just trying to digest his logic. There was no point in arguing it.

“Well, we should probably get started then?” He smiled softly at your words and flung instructions at you, making the night go by as if you were asleep through it all.

With half of the display moved, Leon had stalked away to the main office, and you cleaned up the floor to pass until he let the both of you out. Standing next to the tall shelves, facing the window, you almost started to understand what Leon had said earlier. There is something about the place at night.

You had never thought you would get to experience that, though, of course. What other chance would you be wandering throughout these aisles all alone at night, with all the lights off? You were curious now, and jealous that Leon had been the one to experience that, and you might not ever.

You walked slowly towards the window, the lights behind you fading the further you went from them. Your fingertips grazed the edges of the shelves you walked along, as if picking up all the information held on them in one little touch. The night looked cold from where you stood, and you almost felt the temperature on your skin in that instant. The moon was full and bright, and it lit up your skin like the lights now behind you. Though these walls were thick and with plenty of objects in the room to muffle the sound, it could not drown out the roaring chorus of crickets perched in every branch right outside the glass. The chirps matched the beating of your heart, and soon the rush of blood was replaced by the insects' whispers, a cacophony of life, your vessel was the audience.

You saw yourself in the glass. Your skin lit up by the moon's graces, the hollows of your face carved out in deep shadows, you became painted into the history within these mansion walls, and you looked as if you always belonged. Eternal.

“The moon is bright.”

You gasped and startled again, turning swiftly to see Leon peering over your shoulder, looking at the same illusive mirror that you were. “You should stop doing that Leon, I’m going to have a heart attack one of these days.” You breathed out a laugh.

“I thought I was obvious enough, but I suppose not.” He looked past you back into the window again. “The moonlight makes you look marvelous.”

Your stomach twisted. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks, and couldn't help but turn back around to look again, and dare you say, you agreed. Your airbrushed skin, even flawless in the reflection of the glass, a gentle chiaroscuro against the vast emptiness behind you. Except for–

“Full moon nights are when I feel the most company here. I think she wants to be alive here as well.” You turned again, seeing Leon having unmoved from directly behind you. The cool blue light sitting atop his cheekbones, highlighting strands of blonde hair, contrasting the blaze of his hazel eyes, which were unrelenting on you. He, too, was a relief sculpture under the coalescence of the moon and the shadows. Where was his portrait to be viewed next to yours?

“Yeah, I… I agree now.” Though you felt a shiver crawl through you, you couldn’t make yourself turn around again to look. Your body was preventing you from doing so. Simply, you could only walk past Leon, back onto the main floor.

The ride home along in your car proved no more solace than you were hoping. You could see the silhouette of the mansion grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, and it felt like departing from a friend who did nothing but tell all their troubles. It was hard to believe how quickly your image of the place shifted, though, you still felt so drawn, and so attracted to the premises. And, not to mention, the man within its walls.

What you saw puzzled you. Simply, it had been a trick of the light. You knew that there was no way the light from the moon was able to reach every point of the floor, so he was standing in the shadow. But, how had he approached so silently? Leon was always so silent. This wasn’t the first time the man has snuck up on you. A few others have said he gives them a fright as well, but it seems to happen to you much more often.

Leon was an enigma, in more ways than one. He spoke in riddles, or it felt like it. You read plenty of classics in your time studying literature, and it was as if he had taken his vocabulary straight from works published a century ago. With a borderline transatlantic accent, it always took you a moment to decipher his sentences. It wasn’t as if he read too many of the classics, it was like he came from one.

As silly as the idea might sound to others, you believed it fully. It was just a tall tale from times past, warning people of a monster that didn’t exist. They kept the legend going to fuel tourism and sell museum tickets, but some still believed, and one of those some was you. You felt this answer in your heart fully and truly, and while it scared you to a degree, it awoke an excitement as never before felt in you. That almost scared you more.

There was no way that Leon wasn’t the vampire roaming the halls of the old mansion and archive.

His aura was one you had never felt in a person before. You have been attracted to people in the past, but you never felt someone so physically radiant that it was almost tangible. His gaze cut right through you like the sharpest knife, bringing a stinging trail along your skin as well as the burning desire to feel it again. It was undeniable, you had never felt such an insane attraction to someone you barely knew, yet, knowing that plus your newfound discovery, which you fully believed in, you wanted to dive headfirst into this unknown territory to explore.

All day this weighed on your mind. You couldn’t rid Leon’s image from your thoughts. You couldn’t deny, even without the personality that occupied your thoughts, he was one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. He was picturesque in form, a painting made by the most skilled hands. You were ashamed to admit, only slightly, that you were dying to know more about the maps of his body. He always hid under button up shirts, but none that were ever too big that you couldn’t tell he had large biceps, most of the time the sleeves rolled up so the veins in his forearm protruded with movement. The sight always made your mouth dry.

You had to assume, only based on these facts, that he must have been fit, and if he was, which you had no doubt of, paired with his stunning profile, you weren’t sure how you made it so far into this job without making an attempt to pass out in his arms.

As expected, you could think of nothing else leading up to the hours you had to join him back for the second overnight shift. You honestly forgot the whole purpose of you going at this time, all of that having been pushed to the side in favor of thinking of the man in charge of the place. You were nervous, yet anticipated your arrival, hoping to gain more clues to back up your (unwavering, in your mind) hypothesis.

The guards let you in without the flash of your badge. You slinked quietly through the main hall, footsteps bouncing off of every surface. There wasn’t a soul in sight, yet you felt life all over your body.

The key slid into the lock with ease, and the tell tale clink of the turn mechanism followed.

“Leon?” Your voice echoed through the archive as you shut the door behind you. The lights were off, once again.

You bound down the steps, dropping your belongings on the same stair as the previous night. This time, instead of heading right to the center of the floor to converge with Leon, you stood still on the last step.

“Leon?” You asked again after the man did not do his magical appearance trip at your entry. You felt a cold chill run over your skin. Now, you feel more alone than before. For the first time since becoming involved in the archive, the aisles and books were more sinister than inviting, and every dark corner had a spirit watching you.

You slowly left the stair you held solace on, and walked forward into the center of the room. It felt like every shelf and spine were staring at you with wide eyes, waiting for you to make a wrong move. You wanted to get to work, but you could barely will yourself back up the stairs to the lightswitch. You looked around again as if begging for help from a bystander who was not there.

There was a sudden shift in the air. You weren’t sure now if it was real or if you were hallucinating, but you felt a constricting sensation in your chest, and you felt not alone anymore. Leon was nowhere in sight, but you knew someone else was here.

Suddenly, you couldn’t take it anymore. The silence was enveloping you like a thick rope, and your breath was coming out sloppy. You had to leave.

You took one step backwards and hit a wall behind you. You yelped, not remembering stepping anywhere else besides the center of the room. You turned, and nearly jumped higher out of your body at the sight of what, or who, was behind you.

“You were down here with the lights off. Is something wrong or are you trying out my methods?”

Leon stood before you, in his usual uniform of a white button down shirt and black pants. His hair looked longer tonight, not pushed back with gel, but soft waves were falling across his face, pushed aside to let his sculpted face show through. Here, in the dark, he was much more brooding than he could have ever come across during your typical shifts. That gaze was not the friendly one you had seen in times past.

“No, no I just…” You swallowed, the words falling right out of your mouth. “I thought you would be here. Well, you are, now, but…” You gestured behind you, still feeling the presence of non-existent bodies.

Leon slowly nodded at your words, not moving towards you, but you felt his presence getting closer.

“I have been here. I was in the office.” He gestured behind him lazily, to the office you were used to frequenting as an employee. The door was closed.

You shook your head. “I didn’t hear you, though.” You looked again at the door, and when you looked back into his eyes, he knew what you were thinking. He was lying, and he knew you knew that.

“You know I’m quiet.” His tone felt like a surge straight from your head to your feet, rooting you into place no matter how much you urged your brain to send movement to your limbs.

“Well…” You pushed words out of your throat. “I guess let’s finish this, then.” You broke eye contact and finally felt your body moving forward, but you knew he was still looking at you. You could feel it.

The moon, if it were even possible, was even brighter this night. It’s full face projected into the windows like a spotlight, and once you were able to put your body into motion and further the project of moving book displays, you barely paid note of how Leon never turned the lights on for the both of you. Maybe he could see perfectly well.

It was nearing one in the morning at this point, and you had one last stack to move. You made gentle conversation with Leon throughout, refusing to put on a strange facade solely off of your own thoughts. He reverted back to his normal state, though normal is a generous word to use for a man like Leon.

You walked back to the table being used to house books while they are moved, and picked up the last stack. Bram Stoker, Dracula.

This made you snap your head up. You were sure this hadn’t been on the list set to display, yet, here it was. You looked around, trying to search out Leon to question him about this last minute addition. But, as expected, you realized, he was nowhere to be seen. In fact, you don't remember what he was doing last.

“Leon?” You looked back over to the office door, still closed. You would have heard if he went in there and closed it behind him. You put the stack of books down and walked (slowly, you now felt that desolate aloneness again) over to the back right corner, towards Leon’s private office.

You could not make yourself walk any quicker than the snail pace you currently set. It was odd, and you knew if you were afraid you should be walking faster, but for some reason, surrounded by these books and shelves, you felt as if the faster you moved, the quicker you would be caught. Caught by what? You couldn’t answer that question, yet the word suddenly appeared in your head to describe the situation.

You were distracted on the way to the back. You thought, again, you saw a drift of black smoke waft by as if it were another hallucination. You stopped in your tracks, heart in your throat. You shifted paths, only momentarily, you were now desperate to be back in the company of Leon, your supposed vampire master archivist.

The carpet below you muffled your footsteps, but still, you noticed they were loud enough to be heard, unlike how Leon had been appearing from behind you out of thin air. You almost had to squint as you walked by the windows, the moonlight a sudden burst of fireworks in contrast to the dim workspace you had been habiting. As expected, after leering around the corners, hoping to sneak up on the entity, there was nothing but empty space.

There was a light pattering at the window, and you turned your head to see the sky spitting down on you. The window, slowly becoming stained with raindrops, still held that brush stroked image of you, forever intertwined within the archive. It was a hypnotizing image, as if you no longer recognized yourself the more the rain came down. It was a comforting sound, the taps of the drops on the glass filling the void. It felt like another presence, and it calmed you down to a degree, as calm as you could allow yourself to get.

There was a creak from behind you, as if someone had opened a door, or stepped on a stair. You whipped back around, hoping to see Leon at this point, but still, he was nowhere to be seen. The room was still, everything untouched, but your eyes still scanned every crevice, convinced you were going to miss something if you weren’t careful.

The rain was still sounding off behind you, and you could see the bending of the light as it cast onto the floor. It was the only thing moving. You were far too on edge now.

You turned back to the window…

“Leon!” You took a step back, now more afraid than surprised at his sudden appearance. “Where did you come from? I’ve been looking for you.” You took a huff, trying to catch your breath from his genuinely scaring you. He was standing in front of the window, the moon behind him casting into a deep silhouette, face barely available.

“I’ve been here the whole time.” His voice was lower than before now, and you could barely piece together thoughts. He turned his head to the side, as if surveying the room that you were just inspecting. His eyes caught a glimpse of the light, and you saw the deep yellow in them. It sent a sudden pit to your stomach, and a memory to flash in front of your eyes.

The day he had taken you up to his office, and you spoke about the legends of the vampire, and why you were drawn to the house. You remember the look he gave you when he had said he appreciated your honesty.

Leon had blue eyes that day. That color was nowhere to be seen now.

You swallowed, trying to moisten your mouth in order to speak. “No… no you weren’t. I looked for you. You disappeared. And you just came out of nowhere. What is going on with you, Leon?” As hard as you tried to suppress it, you heard the trembling sounds that came out of your mouth. It was audible that you were panicking, and he knew it.

He stared at you for another moment. His arms were clasped behind his back. “What are you afraid of?”

The rumbling of his voice shot straight through you, to your dismay, and you forced all your composure together to face him without folding.

You gave him a once over, trying to find… something, that might give him away. What you were looking for exactly, you couldn’t say, but you couldn’t stare into his eyes any longer, especially having realized they were not the same eyes you saw a few days ago.

“You’re just… being odd, Leon.” You looked back into his eyes, or what you could see of them from underneath the shadows. Being this close to him, you felt like you were suffocating, and you needed air. “I would like to finish this now.”

You slowly side stepped him, Leon still unmoving in his position against the window. You sighed and turned your head, catching your rain-distorted reflection once again. It was you, a mirror image of someone suffering the same mystifying scenarios as you were in the present moment, standing ever alone against the bookshelves, not offering the comfort they usually do.

You stopped short in your tracks and did a double take. Now your body was fully turned toward the window.

Your reflection stared at you, looking just as perplexed as you did. Without shifting your eyes to the side, you saw the equally distorted reflection of the wooden shelves, illuminated under the lunar glow. You saw your empty hands, you saw the dark hallway behind you, and out of your peripheral vision you saw that Leon had not moved from his spot yet… yet you could not see him.

Leon was not present in the reflection.

You could do nothing but stare in shock and slight horror as you watched the whole scene unfold. A part of you was now realizing, though you had put two and two together in the comfort and safety of your own home, now in the presence of the man and seeing the evidence with your own two eyes, your veins ran cold, and you could not will yourself to move. Not until Leon did.

He shifted, you couldn’t even turn your head to watch. Now he was out of any point of view you had, but you felt his presence press himself against your back, staring into the same image you were. It was the most disorienting experience, feeling Leon’s body behind you, yet not seeing him peering over your shoulder. It didn’t take an expert for him to know how you were feeling in this moment, and you were also sure he knew exactly what conclusion you had just come to.

“What are you thinking?” His deep voice presented itself directly in your ear, and you felt the featherlight graze of his lips on the shell. You could feel the strands of his hanging blonde waves hit your cheek, and while your eyes stung like you wanted to cry, a blaze set itself alight within your body at his proximity.

You could only shake your head slowly at first. “You…” You fumbled over your words, unable to take your eyes off of the glass. The mysterious image of only you and not the person directly behind you will forever be burned into memory. “What are you?”

You heard him inhale slowly. You felt the heat from his face lift away from yours, but it only moved up a fraction, his mouth now pressing closely into your hairline.

“Don’t you know already? You’re a smart girl.” He was condescending with his words, most surely using what you had told him a few days ago against you now. All that talk you did about you believing the legend of the mansion’s vampire, yet here you were, standing right in front of him and refusing to say it out loud.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Your voice was barely louder than a tremble. “You let me run my mouth like a fool in your office, and you didn’t even tell me that I was right this whole time.” Your tongue was so dry, speaking became a task. Your fingers were growing numb, but you still found it hard to move.

He snickered, and you felt the air from his breath fan your face. “And ruin the surprise? I’d much rather see the look on your face after you put it together yourself than having told you right then and there. There’s nothing I love more than when I see someone realize the reality of their convictions. Quite especially someone like you.”

You closed your eyes. It was all you could stand to do at this moment. You shot them back open, however, when you felt his broad hand at your back, pushing you forward, closer to the glass.

Walking closer to the window with the rain now coming down steadily against it, he released where he had put his hand, but did not remove himself from your closeness.

“What do you see?”

He said nothing more, waiting for you to find the composure to be able to speak properly again. As hard as you tried to look past your bleary visage to the outside world, it was nearly impossible. It was dark as ever out there, the moon unrelenting in her radiance.

After a few more seconds, “Myself.” You heard Leon hum from behind you.

“And?” He egged you on.

You shook your head. “That’s it. I can see the moon. The rain.” Your voice grew softer, body relaxing slowly, but for what cause, you weren’t able to find. You involuntarily let out a low sigh when you felt the tips of his fingers crawl up the right side of your neck, settling on your jaw. He pushed your head to the side, enough to expose the canvas of flesh in the reflection.

“Curious… Don’t you think?” His hand flitted lower, raising a trail of goosebumps along the tender skin. A finger pressed inward, right underneath the crook of your jaw, feeling the pulse of your bloodstream. “How much of yourself you can see, the first thing you always notice, for the living must look and be vain.”

Chills spread quickly throughout your body. His hand felt shockingly warm, the opposite of what you would have expected from the typical vampirical lore.

“You… you don’t know what you look like?” You whispered.

“How should I? I’m not able to unless someone lets me know, but even then, do I want to?”

You said nothing for a moment, trying to breathe through the weakness in your abdomen at his touch, which was still laid over the tender place on your throat.

“I’d like to think you still look the same as the day you stopped aging.” He hummed again at your words. Despite his remark of not knowing if he would like anyone to tell him what he looked like, he let you continue in your description. “You’re like a sculpture. Rough around the edges but so blended out, only made by hands whom the gods approved of.” His hand left your pulse, settling on the crook of your neck and shoulder, slightly squeezing. You couldn’t see, of course, but you felt that he still held his face close to yours. “You’d almost be better fitted walking the main halls as a work of art than hiding in these books.”

“That is very affirming to hear from a woman like you.” A breath of silence, then he continued. “You’ve always known, you always believed, and you know what I am. I’m quite drawn to you, I am long familiar with the feeling of someone who is covered in fear, it’s nowhere present on you.” He brought his lips down back to your ear, and you felt his left hand sneak around your waist. Your knees almost buckled. “You’re captivating… I cannot bring myself to keep things professional at all times.”

You were now, truly, at a loss for words, however he did not take your silence as resilience. The hand that was not around your waist was now pushing down the shoulder of your top, revealing the smooth skin. You shuddered again, letting your eyes close once more, and you gave in to the physical feelings over trying to rationalize anything verbally.

“I can’t stand here and deny myself from trying to get to you any longer. I have to know… I must know…” His voice was a borderline growl in your ear now, and you shocked yourself with the smallest whimper that poured over your lips. It only fueled him.

You were pushed forward by a sudden force from Leon, both hands coming up to brace yourself against the window. You were glad no one had ever turned the lights on, if any of the guards decided to walk the perimeter, surely you would have been seen.

Interestingly enough to you, despite being in the current position you were, you no longer felt any anxiety from being in the presence of your manifested form of Leon the vampire. Though he did stand there and confirm it all to you, no part of you felt like you needed to run away any longer. In fact, the contrast between the cold window and his warm body was all the convincing you needed to stay.

“I would never do this on an ordinary day, if it were anyone else I would fight these urges, but with you… I just find myself succumbing to something I wanted so suddenly.” His mouth moved against the skin of your neck, and you arched back into his body behind you. “I will not continue unless you tell me not to, but you should know I need more than just the one thing from you right now…”

The deep octaves of his voice had your thoughts swimming, and any rational mind had flown far out the window. There was nothing to argue with when there was nothing you felt the need to refuse.

“I…” A gasp from you, collecting breath you had not known you were holding. “I can’t let you do this then let you loose. This is too far beyond simplicity now.” Your breath fogged the window, and you couldn't help but notice once more how you could only see your bare shoulder in the glass, and not his large hand around the bone.

“I would never,” His lips were tucked up under your jawline, the vibrations from his voice being felt all over your body. A kiss would be less intimate. “You’re mine.”

At once, his hand on your waist tightened and he opened his mouth, his sharp fangs pierced the flesh right underneath your pulse and you gasped loudly, the pinch making you stiffen at first, then making your legs lose balance.

Leon’s hot mouth on your throat was like a painkiller compared to his teeth sunk into you, and his hand held you steady as you slowly felt the need to fall to your knees. He removed his right hand from your shoulder and wrapped it underneath your right arm, crossing over your chest to hold you steady against him, and the more you gasped and writhed at him feeding, the closer he pulled you into him.

He was groaning into your neck, his tongue swiping over the stinging wounds after he had retracted his fangs, and every time more blood pulsed out of the surface, he rocked his hips into you, and you could tell he was enjoying this in more ways than just the one. And, something you never would have believed you would get to admit, you were growing more excited with every passing second as well.

“Leon…” You whispered, unable to find strength to raise to your full voice. You clenched your eyelids shut, a burst of white filtering through the darkness. Your limbs started trembling. “Please…”

With a gasp from the man, he pulled his mouth off of your neck, the cold air stinging the once warm location. He pulled you close into his body. He was breathing heavily.

With his still low and raspy voice, he spoke again, his body twitching against yours from the rush of adrenaline. “With one taste now, I’m not sure I will ever be able to stay satiated without your blood again,” You tilted your head back, resting it on his. He held you up. “You remind me of a time when being alive meant something greater than just a state of being to me. For as long as I can…” He adjusted his head, and you felt the tip of his nose grace your jaw. It made you jump at first, afraid to feel those piercing teeth again, but he let you revel in the soft touch. “I cannot let another claim you to be theirs.”

Leon brought his left hand back upward on your body, caressing your face and directing it sideways to look at him. His eyes were burning bright with gold, and your hazy vision locked onto it like a target.

“Tell me yes,” He whispered now, his mouth grazing yours. You were barely hanging on, the blood loss creating more of a haziness than you were expecting, but you would have been able to say this answer even if you could barely speak. You had made your mind up about this with Leon a long time ago.

“Yes, Leon,” You breathily replied, and the grip on both of his hands intensified, capturing your body even closer to his if it was possible, and came down onto you in a heated kiss.

He held the side of your face to keep you upright, and it only made you melt further. His strong hands and arms were the sole reason you hadn't fallen to the floor by now, your mind was swimming and all of your nerves were aflame. You were barely paying any attention to the dull throbbing coming from the two pinpricks in your neck.

Leon, you could tell immediately, was a passionate lover. He made sure to keep you close to him at all times, afraid at any moment you could run away, from him, from this archive, from this experience. You knew you could never do that, not after such a bond had already been created by letting him feed off of you. His arms were solace in this moment, and his mouth a lifesaver, ironically.

He gently bit at your lips, and when he pulled away for you to catch your breath, you could taste blood. It was your own, you knew, but some sick inner part of you loved the thrill it sent through you. You wanted more.

His mouth was back on your skin in an instant, this time by your cheek, ear, down to your jaw and neck. You flinched when he landed on the bite mark, but he only trailed over it with a light kiss, he didn’t intend on reopening them. One of your hands came down off of the cold glass, now fogged from the heat from the two of you, to wrap around his wrist. You could barely stand, and wanted to stay in his embrace, but needed to look at him.

At your touch, he slowly let you go, and when there was enough space for movement, you turned carefully, purposefully not leaving his contact.

You shuddered at the cold window on your back, but felt heat flood your senses again when you looked into his eyes. Leon loomed over you, gaze full of lust, chest heaving with having spent energy on you, but you knew he had more to give. And you had more you could take.

You grabbed the front of his shirt by the middle and pulled him closer to you. He wasted no time in coming where you had beckoned him, hand slithering around your waist to draw you in again.

After a breath, you spoke, “I can’t… I don’t think I can stand for long,” Your eyes fluttered shut for a few seconds at a time, and you couldn’t help but to let them.

The other hand that hadn’t worked its way around your waist trailed down your side, over the curve of your hips and thighs, and took solace underneath.

“Don’t worry about that,” It took only a second at most for him to lift you, settling himself in between your legs, back still pressed against the window. Leon’s hand was gripping your thigh, and the other was still behind you. Your own arms wrapped around his neck suddenly, and it brought you face to face with him once again. “I’ve got you. I won’t drop you.”

You sighed at his words, thankful he was now holding you, as that surely would have been the breaking point, and you would have been in a puddle on the floor by now. You let your head roll back, hitting the window with a dull thud, but any pain that might have happened due to it was nowhere to be felt, with other sensations at the forefront of your nerve system.

Leon had pressed himself against you again, the hardness of his cock through his pants pressing incessantly against your heat, he reattached his lips to your throat, nipping and sucking at the soft skin, eliciting mewls from your mouth at his touch.

Your hands explored ceaselessly along his strong arms, his biceps flexing from holding you, from the excitement coursing through his own body, and you couldn’t help but arch back into him, trying to get even closer than possibly allowed. You felt him pull away again, and you wrapped one hair through his soft blonde locks and pulled him back, connecting your lips in fervor, kissing him like your life source was dependent on you staying alive.

HIs lips were soft and hot, you were addicted to the taste. The tang of your blood mixed on his tongue danced with the shared saliva between you, and with every kiss you wished you could get even closer to him. You tugged on his hair, but it was as if he couldn’t even feel it, he was too wrapped up in you.

His tongue roamed your mouth, both soon becoming slick with spit and sweat between your bodies, and you couldn’t take the heat anymore.

You pulled away, only by an inch but with enough space to whine out, “Leon, please,”

No more communication was needed, he understood your words. Maybe if you let it go on any longer, he would now just by whatever your body was telling him.

The arm he had around your waist snaked back to your side, and dipped down in between the two of you. Leon kissed your neck once, your head still relaxed against the window, unable to conjure the energy to move. You shivered with his touch along your thigh, the casual sweater dress you had on now becoming a good idea. You thanked your past self.

“If I continue will you let me,” He spoke into your neck, close enough to your ear for you to hear the low rumble of his voice. “I got a taste of you, but I know it won’t be enough.” His hand was already caressing the tender skin of your inner thigh, causing waves of chills and heat though your body and straight to your core. He was mere inches away from pulling aside your panties and running his fingers along your wetness, and you didn’t know if you could wait for that any longer.

“I need you Leon,” You whispered, and tried to turn your head to face him as best as you could. “I’ll let you forever.”

He sighed, but it was closer to a growl. He thrust his hips forward, creating a delicious friction in between the two of you, and you couldn't stop the moan that escaped. Your hand was still laced in his hair, and he inhaled sharply, in pleasure rather than pain, every time you pulled hard.

You whined out loud when he withdrew the hand that was so close to putting fingers inside of you, but you quickly quieted down when he utilized it instead to work apart the clasp of his belt and button of his pants. He had no intentions of wasting time, though this was a man that had all in the world.

You lifted your head with the surge of energy you found at the sound of this and attempted to look down, needing to feed your eyes before he fed your pussy. He caught you before you could make the move, smashing your lips together once again, but you didn’t mind the distraction, it was a better way to pass the time rather than have your mouth empty.

Leon wrigled himself around for a moment, attempting to pull himself out with one hand. He sighed after he accomplished this, pulling away from your mouth, but instantly was back on your neck. This time, he gave you what you wanted.

With his other hand still supporting your thigh, and showing no signs of getting tired of this action, he replaced his hand back inside your dress skirt, but skipping right over its previous position. Instead, he placed the pad of his thumb right onto the gusset of your panties, pressing with enough force to give you the friction you were desperate for. You gasped out loud, and he only continued this action to make you writhe against him.

The hand that was not tangled in his hair traveled down his chest, feeling the hard ridges of his muscles and bones, toying with the buttons of his shirt to pull them apart. When he felt your hand touch his bare chest, you could feel the muscles flex for a second.

He decided he had had enough of the teasing, though he was the one doing it to you. He roughly pulled aside your panties, and your mouth dried up at the action. Your breath hitched, and you knew what was coming.

He pulled away from your skin for a second to look into your eyes. You could feel yourself slowly slipping away, the dizziness from the blood loss slowly fading, but that strength was whisked away instantly by the arousal pooling in every crevice of your body. Leon’s eyes were half lidded, pupils blown, mouth slightly parted. You could tell just by looking at him that he barely had anything else on his mind. Just the few sips of your elixir gave him enough energy to last the whole night, most likely.

“I’m sorry if I get rough,” You felt the vibrations of his words through his chest, which you still had one hand firmly planted on. “Everything is heightened now and…” He swiped through your clothed pussy again, making you buck your hips forward. “You are irresistible, and it’s doing something to me… That I haven’t felt in a long time.”

You said nothing, or rather, didn’t have the time to, as after he concluded speaking, his fingers breached the threshold of your panties and he slipped a finger through your wet folds, making you inhale sharply and press yourself further against him. He leaned forward, pinning you fully against himself and the window, using his teeth to gently bite at your neck again.

He proceeded to stay buried in your neck for the next minute or so, his fingers going back and forth from teasing your entrance to applying pressure on your clit, making you whine and wiggle around in his hold. Every time you moaned breathily right next to his ear, he growled lowly.

The rain continued to pound on the window behind you, mirroring the feeling of your dripping heat, tightening around nothing as Leon continued to tease you, the feeling of his twitching head would occasionally press against you, and you desperately tried to rut forward to put it in, but he held you in place.

Finally, when he did decide to show mercy on your state, you whined so sharply your voice cut in and out of audibility, his thick fingers stretching you in a way that felt like bliss, no matter if any pain occurred. He thumbed your clit while slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you, feeling yourself grow slicker with every stroke, the movement becoming less and less resistant as he worked you open.

Surely he was able to feel your thighs trembling in his hand, your legs twitching with the feeling of his fingers, paired with the tongue against your pulse, the non-bitten side, you were almost at the edge without anything major happening.

He pulled away, putting himself once again in front of your face, searching you for signs that he shouldn’t continue. Tears were brimming on your lower lash line, though not from pain, but from the lack of pleasure. He saw this as it was, knowing what you were feeling in this moment, knowing you needed more, needed him.

Leon held one second of eye contact, then dipped into your mouth to kiss you chastely, and at the same time, sheathed himself inside of you. You gasped into the kiss, deepening it as you tried to thrust yourself forward to take more and more of him in. He held your hips firmly in place, not letting you take any of the control. Your fingers were tugging so harshly at his hair now, you would be surprised if you pulled away with no strands stuck between your fingers. He welcomed the sting of it though, pushing himself forward into you until he completely bottomed out, the feeling of his twitching cock in your walls made your whole body shiver, and you felt yourself pulsing around him, begging for some action to relieve your aching.

Your breath was stuck in your throat at this. The fullness you were experiencing made it difficult to inhale anything, and with Leon not only filling your insides, but still keeping his mouth connected to your neck, everything was making your head spin.

“Leon…” You breathed out, and you received a grunt in return. He pistoned his hips forward again, making you whine sharply, before pulling himself out and repeating the action. You quickly became loud.

There was nothing rough about the action. He was slow and thoughtful with every stroke, hands gripping your ass where he held you up, pushing bruises into the skin where his fingers made contact. He groaned with every other thrust, enjoying the feeling of you around him as you were of him inside of you.

You could barely make any more noise at this point, just heavy breathing was coming from the both of you, a whine occasionally making its way out from your throat, but too many sensations were happening at once, it was all so overstimulating.

Your hands were roaming, trying to find any surface on him possible to steady yourself. You were clawing at him desperately, feeling a little sorry for the marks you were creating along his chest, but every line of pain was being pushed into his performance, and he was not relenting on his power.

“Fuck,” Leon moaned into your ear, and he took one second to collect himself before resuming his pace. You could feel how wet the both of you had become, as well as hear it. “You feel amazing…” Your head rolled back once more and thudded against the rain stricken window, but it was not loud enough to drown out the incessant squelching happening. Leon began to pick his pace up slightly, most likely your sign that he was getting close.

He thrust hard and stayed seated inside of you, making your legs tense up, and pleasure shoot throughout your entire body. Your hand had finally let go of his hair at this, squeezing with as much strength as you could muster up in your body on his thick shoulder, where you could feel every muscle as he struggled to hold you up and keep himself together.

“You’re too much for me,” He gasped into your ear, “I can’t hold on much longer,”

You lifted your head off of the window and leaned down, he met you halfway and sealed his words with a deep kiss. Moving away from other spots on his body, your hands traveled back up and cupped both sides of his face, kissing him with passion as he tried to split focus between kissing you and fucking you.

You could feel his breath on your face as he began stuttering, and his sounds made your stomach tighten, and you clenched your walls around him, making it even harder for him to continue.

He pulled away by a mere centimeter, saliva stuck between you two in a string, the look in his eyes soft yet strong, he admired you in a way that made you forget he had seen a thousand other beautiful things in his lifetime. It made you feel like you topped the list. Sweat was beading on his forehead, it was catching the moonlight behind you, making his skin shine like silver. His eyes were blue again.

He furrowed his brow together, his hips losing its steady rhythm. “I–I can’t,” He almost whimpered, and you took pity on his state. It was arousing to see this man fall apart under you.

You tried your best to speak, voice cutting in between heavy breaths. “So don’t.” These words elicited a sob-like sound from the man in front of you. His mouth dropped open, eyelids scrunching together, letting the last of himself loose that he had been holding together barely at all.

With broken gasps and groans, you felt Leon push himself for just a moment more, the pleasure on his face driving you right to your orgasm, and the knot inside of you came loose. Solace was found on his chest again, and your nails dug into him as you rode it out, knowing the feeling was going to push Leon over as well.

You felt it before you saw it on his face. You felt the throb of his thick cock inside of you, his hips unable to do anything steadily at this point, and he let himself go inside of you.

He was looking down between the two of you, though you were sure his eyes were closed as you were still pressed together. He groaned once, twice, and when he eventually looked up, in between his panting lips and huffs for air, you saw his shining fangs that had come out to play again.

You almost invited him to bite you again. Surely it would have allowed him to continue.

You blinked and they were gone. His facial features softened as he looked at you, your skin was on fire from the warm air settling in around you two, and your lungs wouldn’t fill efficiently enough.

He gulped, trying to wet his mouth. You were experiencing the same. “Are you alright to stand?”

You removed your hands from his chest and placed them on one of the panes of the window. “I think I will be, maybe… eventually.”

He huffed a laugh. He gently maneuvered his hands to let your feet plant back onto the ground. After being held up for so long, your knees felt like jelly. You stumbled.

He still loomed over you after you had regained your balance. He discreetly put himself away while you were busy controlling the rush of blood back to your head, and now he was keeping a watchful eye, scared, like you were fragile.

“I’m just unsteady. I won’t break.” You remarked. You pulled the hem of your dress down.

Leon smiled. It warmed you. “Of course I know that. I just…” He looked away for a moment, as if ashamed. “I drank a lot more than I should have. And then proceeded to heighten your heart rate, which was not my best course of action, but at times, I tend to get ahead of myself.” You stared at him as he talked. You felt endeared by his worries.

“I feel fine, right now. But I was hazy. But…” You bit your lip, wondering if you should continue your train of thought. Why not, you concluded, the most intimate act was already water under the bridge. “I liked how it felt.”

You couldn’t help but smile, a slight difference to the tone of the moment, but you noticed his hair, which he hadn’t yet patted down from your fingers running wild in them. It made him look rugged, playful. Human.

“I…” Leon said nothing else for a few more seconds. You observed each other. Reveling in the events that just transpired, and exactly what this means moving forward. There was no more strictly professional relationship. You could feign it to the public, but you will always want him. He will always crave you.

He continued. “I meant what I said. I had a little too much just for a first taste, and it heightened every nerve ending in my body, you allowed me to continue, and I fear… Well, now I need to see where this takes our relations. I would like…” Another pause for humility. “I would like you to stay. Stay here, not for the building, but with me.”

You were the one to gulp this time. Even just his words had a sweeping effect like a wave, and you were desperately trying to breathe through the undertow.

You walked forward, grabbing his shirt by the half undone buttons and pulled him into a kiss. You let the passion take over in place for the lust a few minutes prior, and you could feel the difference all over your body. You knew your answer.

You pulled away, both of you slightly dazed. You whispered into his lips, “That was already my plan.”

The moonlight hugged you both goodnight.

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