Okay, gang. This is the last update now before the New Year as I'll be too preoccupied with the festivities to devote the time I need to writing and updating. Enjoy, my loves! :)
Summary - In the tranquil village of Little Norton, your life can be described as comfortable, quiet and idyllic. One night, though, it takes a dark turn when you finally come face to face with the eerie presence you’ve sensed watching you from afar for months, encountering a mysterious vampire on your way home. His arrival in your life sets off a chain of events that lead to you becoming inextricably tied to him and his family, learning of the complex dynamics within it, as well as the greater purpose you represent to them.
A proposition and a promise are offered, yet to agree will see life as you know it changed forever. Are you ready for such a commitment, or will you leave them beneath the dark shadow that has followed the four undead men for centuries?
Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty
Words - 5,891
Warnings - Vampire fic, mentions of blood and gore, plus lots of smut. 18+ content, minors DNI!
Tag list - In the comments, please DM/comment to be added/removed.
The offices of L&B Live Events are a place you always unquestionably feel at home, although it is a rarity you spend any lengthy amounts of time there at your desk, such is the nature of your job.
This morning, though, while replying to emails, chatting with your team and enjoying coffee and a croissant, you revel in the stillness. Stillness compared to you racing up and down the country from one event or client presentation to the next.
“Grace?” Martin, one of said co-workers calls politely from his desk. “Can you email me over that file for the Henderson meeting? The bloody venue has pulled out on us at the eleventh hour, and I need to find another suitable location pronto!”
“Was that Musgrave Hall?” you inquire, watching his head pop up with widened eyes as he nods. They’re a tricky bunch there, it has to be said. Tricky is putting it mildly, though, and politely. Completely bloody incompetent with handling their bookings would be more apt. Why L&B continue to use their hosting services is anyone’s guess, really. The location might be beautiful, and budget friendly, but their in-house team lacks the vital co-ordination skills needed to efficiently run a venue without double booking, as you suspect they have.
“I’ll send it over now, mate.”
“Cheers, hon!” he calls back, taking a seat again.
Once you’ve sent the information to him, you settle into your rhythm once more, finishing your coffee and idly picking at the remaining crumbs from your croissant as you open your diary and start to plan your day. Those plans are interrupted by an internal call coming in at your desk.
“Grace White speaking,” you say, jamming the phone between your ear and shoulder, continuing to add notes in your diary.
“Grace, can you come to my office, please?”
Your boss sounds a little stiff compared to her usual upbeat demeanour. “I’ll be down right away, Sheena. Everything okay?”
“Hmm, no, not really. See you in a sec.”
Baffled, you rise from your desk, heading through the large room to the very end, where Sheena’s office is located, presiding over the entire floor. Knocking, you politely wait for her call, entering and seeing both her and William Gibson from HR waiting for you on the other side.
“Take a seat, Grace,” she speaks, gesturing to the chair situated at the other side of her large, pristine desk. Waiting until you’re sat, she then continues. “I’m afraid some troubling information has made its way to me regarding you, and as a result of it, I have no choice but to terminate your contract, of which you are in breach. It is effective as of now.”
Your heart hits the pit of your stomach, a cold, unpleasant feeling spreading like frost through your entire body. Your words come out in a desperate rush of questions, throat pinching tightly.
“What? What information? What did I do?”
Clearing her throat, Sheena continues, looking uncomfortable. “We’ve been made aware by a client that there is a pornographic video of you, and who we assume to be your boyfriend in existence on the internet, and after researching the information we have discovered it is valid.
“We have also had it verified as legitimate, as one can’t be too careful in a world of deep fakes and AI technology. I’m very disappointed that it has to come to this, Grace. You’re a fantastic worker and very personable young woman, but it violates our company policy where gross misconduct is concerned.”
William then takes his turn. “For the sake of the company and our reputation, we truly have no choice but to let you go. As Sheena states, it isn’t happily either. You’ve been with us for seven years and never put a foot wrong. Truly, what you do in your personal life really should be your business alone, I know this, but when it affects the company’s reputation, we cannot allow for your employment to continue. You will be paid to the end of the month and receive the rest of your holiday in pay, too.”
You’re beyond horrified, gaping, unable to believe this. William is right, what you do away from company hours should absolutely not affect what you do while working them, but you realise, sadly much too late, that of course it would do, should a client discover something like that and obviously make a complaint.
“I, I understand,” you whisper, tears filling your eyes. “I don’t like it, but I understand your position.”
God, the shame, if Sheena herself – and William – have actually seen it. You never once thought of that when uploading it, that anyone you knew personally might watch it. Whether it was naivety or simple thoughtless excitement, you don’t know, but you should have known.
“We don’t like it either, Grace,” Sheena exhales sadly. “I am sorry it had to come to this. Please know that I will give you nothing short of a glowing reference to any future job prospects requiring such.”
She nods with an air of finality, William thin lipped at her side, neither of them looking happy that they’ve had to dismiss you. At least that’s one thing, you suppose. They both look as if they truly didn’t want to see you leave.
Rising from your seat, you leave the office, quietly clearing out your desk and explaining to your colleagues what has happened. They all share their shock, that it isn’t fair, validating your thoughts that what you do in your private life shouldn’t have any bearing on your professional capacity or capabilities.
You hug them all in turn, promising to keep in touch, before you and your copier paper box full of your belongings leave the building. Placing the box in the boot of your car, you climb in, sighing, folding your arms across the steering wheel and taking a moment to have a good, long cry about it.
It’s unfair, so very unfair, yet you understand it from their perspective entirely. Of course, you can. A video of their head of event management getting railed and fed upon by her vampire boyfriend is not going to look good for the company, despite the fact it’s only sex. Sex in a committed relationship, but still, some people in the world remain very uptight and puritanical about pleasure. Especially when it comes to viewing it.
Especially too, you can’t help but think, when one of the people is a vampire.
At the injustice in this, you allow yourself a moment of immaturity to revel in the unfairness handed to you. “But it’s fucking okay for the client to actively go about seeking out vampire porn,” you fume, drying your eyes, your makeup smearing over your fingers, “but oh no! A woman starring in it brings tarnish and shame, doesn’t she?”
You know it’s an exercise in bolting the stable door once the horse has run away, but you still reach for your phone, log into your Porn Hub account and delete the video. Over one hundred thousand views. Bloody hell. It isn’t inconceivable, then, that one of those viewers recognised you.
Composing yourself, you pull a packet of issues from your bag, looking at yourself in the rear-view mirror and cleaning up your makeup-streaked face as best you can before embarking upon the forty-minute drive home. You put on a podcast for company, but find yourself zoning out, the co-hosts and their witty repertoire not landing with you whatsoever as you zoom down the motorway, weighing everything up.
One thing you do realise, though, is that there’s something you truly need more than anything else. Arriving at the cottage rather than Norton House, you receive it instantly after relaying your news, too.
“Sweetheart, I’m so flippin’ sorry,” Teddy coos softly, holding you in a tight embrace. “It’s so shit, so, so shit but you’re right; they’re perfectly within their rights to sack you if something you do outside of work reflects badly on them. And it wasn’t even bad! It isn’t like you’re flashing yourself all over the internet like that bloody Bonnie Blue! Then I might understand more, how it tarnishes them by association. Not that I think she’s entirely wrong either for doing what she does to earn, even though some of her content is questionable. A woman’s body is her own business, but you know what I mean! All this for one little video, Christ!”
“I know,” you sniffle, tears pooling in your eyes again. “I get why it’s wrong, but it’s at odds with the fact I staunchly believe it shouldn’t be! It’s two people having sex, that’s it! Not murdering anyone, not anything bad, simply sharing a little part of what we otherwise keep behind closed doors. One time, too! It isn’t like we went viral, had the whole internet gossiping about us!”
He shakes his head, dropping a kiss to yours. “I know, sweet. I know.”
Something cold then begins to jab at you again. “Oh, shit. IV’s going to be fucking livid! He isn’t the kind of vampire who needs any further excuses to hate people. This might send him right off the damned rails!”
Teddy is quick to nip that fear in the bud. “I doubt Ves would let him, Gracie. I doubt it very much. He’s so calm and pragmatic, he’ll likely keep him on a short lead over any possible plans for revenge against your former company.”
Telling them, you have no idea why, but the thought leaves you feeling ashamed, like you’re somehow going to sink in their estimations because of this. After spending the afternoon moping around the cottage, though, returning back just before sundown, you find that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Humans,” II scoffs, holding you in a tight embrace. “So fucking precious about something everyone does. Bar the celibate. I’m really sorry it happened, my love. I can kind of understand their viewpoint, but you’re right. It shouldn’t be an issue.”
You kiss him, moving to Ves. “He’s right, darling. What happens behind closed doors, no matter that a snippet of that was shared, should not fucking affect the way people view you, or your ability to present well for your company. It is, however, a lot better than it could be. You could have a mortgage to worry about, bills, etc. As it stands, your financial burden is zero, being that you don’t need to work at all.” He smiles, kissing your forehead tenderly. “If you wish to start again in another company, that’s fine, but I’m telling you now, you don’t have to.”
Sinking further into his arms, you groan, sighing. “That’s reassuring to hear right now, because I have no idea what the hell I want to do next!”
“I fucking know what I want to go and fucking do!” Nope, the third youngest of the four hasn’t quite taken it with the same grace as the more ancient of your boyfriends. “I want to go throw a fucking petrol bomb right into their foyer! Fucking bastards, how dare they do this to you, make you feel less than, or like what you did was wrong or dirty!”
“III, calm down,” Ves advises softly, hands smoothing a supportive stroke across your upper back.
Immediately, he’s shouted down. “Calm down? Calm the fuck down? Our girlfriend gets treated like this, and you want me to calm down?” He then looks to IV, who’s mostly been on mute, although his furrowed brow more than gives away the anger pulsing through him at your news. “You with me, IV? Let’s fucking go down there, let them see what happens when they mess with what’s ours.”
“You will do no such thing,” Ves interjects with again, while you feel a finger tap your shoulder, turning to see a glass containing a huge measure of rum enter your vision. Swallowing it back, II is quick to top you up.
“Vessel is right, you need to calm down,” he speaks, as usual backing up his creator. “It won’t get Grace her job back, or do anything more than momentarily make you feel better for venting spite against people simply following company protocol. No matter how much we all disagree with the fundamentals of such.” He pauses, topping up your glass again before returning the bottle to the counter. “It even sounds like your boss didn’t really want to be doing it, letting you go, from how you just explained it.”
“I don’t think she did,” you state, sighing heavily. “Her hands were probably tied.”
“Mmmm, good idea,” III chirps sinisterly from across the kitchen.
“One more fucking word about retribution, and you can kiss goodbye to a few limbs,” Ves warns, pointing a long, stern finger at his offspring. “Grace does not need you flying into vexed hysteria right now. Behave. That’s the last time I will warn you.”
He storms off at that, muttering about going for a smoke, his blur descending the cellar steps before the back door opens and shuts aggressively. You have to admit, you’re a little pissed off that III has taken this so personally, seeming more incensed that they dare do this to his girlfriend and how that makes him feel, rather than checking in with your own emotions regarding your termination.
As for IV, he’s worryingly quiet.
Asking for a few minutes alone, you move to the table, taking a seat at his side. “Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not,” he speaks, his nostrils flaring, jaw set tight. “It’s my fucking fault that this happened at all.”
Oh, no. “How can you even think that?” you exclaim, resting your hand to his shoulder, the other rubbing his forearm with affection. “You’re not the one who broke company policy.”
“No, but I’m the reason it all happened, ain’t I?” he fumes, a soft growl sounding low in his throat. “You only uploaded it because I’m a fuckwit with low self-esteem, only did it to show me that I’m desirable! You fancying me as much as you do should have been enough, but no, I let you do it to feed my fragile fucking ego and now you’ve got the sack. So yeah, Grace. I think we can safely say it’s my bloody fault!”
Pulling him into your arms, you rock him gently, going one better and sitting up to seat yourself astride him, your hugs continuing. “We did it for a bit of fun, and it was my idea, not yours. I should have thought of the possible repercussions, but I was too busy in revelling in the fact that so many people were getting off on watching us. That’s my lesson to learn there, and absolutely, one hundred percent, not yours. This isn’t your fault, Matt. Don’t you dare sit here and sink into moroseness over it and blame yourself. I won’t have it.”
Him taking it personally vastly differs from that of his sibling, and you see it so clearly. You expected rage, frankly, but what you should have been on guard for was him blaming himself, as he has a predisposition for.
Letting out a shaky breath, you remain there, arms wrapped around him as his tension gradually softens, the guilt in his eyes lingering but less consuming under your gentle reassurance. Slowly, you rest your forehead against his, stroking his cheeks, pulling back to look at him. “It’s unfortunate, but it happened. I’m going to move on with my life in the wake of it, find something else I love just as much, or maybe enjoy being kept for a while.”
“You suit spoilt princess, darling!” you hear Ves call from the lounge, and it makes you hum with laughter.
“What I need in the wake of it, though, is for my vampires to support this, and that means listening to me when I state that I don’t want you blaming yourself. Alright?”
He looks up at you, eyes sad, but beginning to nod. “I’m so sorry.”
Kissing him, you sigh against his lips. “You’ve nothing to be sorry about. Promise me you’re not going to keep blaming yourself.”
Again, he nods. “Okay, promise. I still feel like shit, though.” His eyes widen then, lips thinning. “Fuck. What are you gonna tell your parents? They’ll be here in five days.”
Oh, lord. That hadn’t even entered your head. “Shit, I’ve no bloody idea. Oh, shit!” you begin, Ves re-entering the room, heading for the kettle. “Well, obviously not the truth!”
“I have a suggestion,” he speaks, throwing a teabag into a mug as you climb from IV’s lap, moving to lean back against the cooker. “You could say that you’ve decided to go it alone, start up your own event planning company?”
“I could, but that would be another lie, wouldn’t it? I’ve made no such decision to do that,” you state, moving to the side of the kitchen he’s standing in, gently shifting him over to reach for your bottle of red wine.
He reaches for a glass from the cupboard beside his head, handing it to you. “Doesn’t mean you can’t, though, does it?” Gesturing around himself as your pour, his smile tilts his mouth. “We have this huge house and only ever use half of it. Everything from the lounge down to the east side is all furnished, but vacant of necessity. It need not be, if a certain redheaded beauty would like to use those vacant rooms for events and office space?”
You’re listening, suddenly filled with a sense of optimism you’ve been lacking since 10am this morning. “And you wouldn’t mind, opening up your home to people?”
He shrugs, pouring his tea. “Not at all. They wouldn’t even need to come anywhere near our side of the house, would they? There’s a separate door down on the far side they could use. It’d be like any other old home that’s open to the public, but with a residing family in place.” Blowing the steam off his tea, he takes a sip. “That’s just one idea. Or, you know, you could take me up on my offer to resign you as a spoilt princess. Up to you entirely, darling.”
Raising your eyebrows, you take a gulp of your wine, mulling it over. “I suppose I have a lot to think about, don’t I, in what I decide for my future.”
“Yes, it’s fair to say that you do.” Reaching into his pocket, he then pulls out his wallet, slim with black leather, a collection of cards within. “Until you do, here. Pin is 4278.”
Amex Black. Jesus. Scanning it, you notice something there that you had never contemplated before. His full name. Mr. Vessel Danielsson.
“You have II’s surname,” you speak, looking back up at him inquiringly.
“Mm,” he hums. “Never had one of my own, so when I was required to societally, he told me to use his, since we’re family and all.”
That’s strangely very, very touching, and you coo softly, but still extend the card back in his direction. “Ves, I can’t...”
He holds up his hand, making a start towards the door. “No arguing, or you’ll go over my knee.” Seeing the look such a promise prompts, IV also chuckling at your expression, he points at you. “Not in a way you’ll enjoy, either.”
With a wink, he departs, and you slip his card into the pocket of your cardigan, determined not to actually use it. He pays for enough. Before you can let his idea settle into your brain further, one which you do see as a strong possibility for the future, there’s an issue in the here and now you have to deal with.
“You know he wants you to make a dent in that, don’t you?” IV speaks, nodding to your pocket. “And if you did, he wouldn’t even notice. His credit limit is staggering.”
Moving to him, you kiss his head. “I have more pressing things on my mind than spending at the moment.”
Taking your hand, he kisses your wrist. “Yeah, I feel that. You’re annoyed with III, ain’t you?”
A little, it has to be said. “He needs putting straight over his reaction, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to do just that.”
He snorts a little, getting up. “Good luck with that.”
Taking another sip of your wine, you leave it on the counter, pulling your cardigan around yourself a little tighter and opening the back door. The snow is still crisp underfoot, your slippered feet crunching over where it’s beginning to freeze again, another downpour forecast for that evening. With Little Norton so close to the east coast of England, you often see much more in the way of traditional winter weather than places further inland.
Turning to face you, he smiles a little sadly. “Hey babe, you okay?”
Oh, so he’s finally calmed down enough to ask that. “That depends. Are you finished threatening terrorism against my former employers? Because if you aren’t then no, Charlie. I’m not.”
“They fucking deserve it, though!” Hmm, not quite finished yet. “Firing you over something as trivial as a video of you and IV banging, bloody hell! Can you imagine what they’d have said if it was you and me, hmm, with some of the kinky shit we get up to? Probably would have shit a vital organ in disgust.”
“That’s neither here nor there, really,” you remind him, folding your arms. “I needed you back there, just to listen, support me, and you flipped your fucking lid and made it all about how my termination made you feel!”
His eyes narrow a little, mouth agape. “I did not such fucking thing!”
“You bloody did!”
“Oh, what the actual fuck, Gracie?” he yells, taking an aggressive puff on the spliff in his hand. “I was so angry for you, you could see that! I still fucking am! Got half a mind to go down there and at least put some bricks through their windows. Absolute arseholes!”
“See?” you cry, thrusting a hand towards him. “There you go again! I don’t need your threats of retribution. I need your support!”
His arms begin to flail in their usual theatrical manner. “That is support, for fucks sake!”
“Charlie, it fucking isn’t!” you cry, your eyes widening. “It’s you acting before you think, which you know you have a predisposition for, usually when emotionally driven!” Moving to him, you grasp his arms, looking up at him pleadingly. “This isn’t what I need from you. I need you to be steadying, not flying off the damned handle. Please, please calm down and take a minute to think.”
Luckily, after a few moments of his jaw flexing and eyebrows pinching, he seems to take your words on board. “Fucking did it again, didn’t I?”
Yes, and you can forgive him for it, being that he’s still so young in his vampirism. It often takes a little calming down, too, but he inevitably always sees the error of his ways once he has.
“You did.”
He huffs, running a hand through his hair, eyes flicking over your face as if searching for some sign of forgiveness. “Alright, alright, I’ll drop it. I just hate seeing you hurt, y’know? Feels like I ought to do something, but I suppose it’d only make things worse.”
You let a gentle smile edge your lips, stepping closer to close the distance between you, the lingering tension easing as you reach for his hand. “What I need most is for you to just be here, not to wage war,” you murmur, watching the way his shoulders slacken. “That includes you being on your absolute best behaviour when my parents arrive, too, because I cannot guarantee that my dad is going to be in any way, shape or form calm about this. He was pissed off. I know it was coming from a place of concern, but still. He rarely gets angry, but when he does... blimey.”
You receive exactly what you need from him then, III putting his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. “Don’t worry.” He drops a kiss atop your head and you feel yourself start to relax. “I’ll be good, regardless of whatever we have thrown at us, should your dad be the type to do that.”
“Normally, I’d say that he really isn’t,” you explain, “but he’s worried about me, about this situation I’m in, in a relationship with four people he considers dangerous, being what you all are.”
“And your mum?” he inquires, while you take the spliff from him and draw upon it. “Erm, Grace? That has dried blood in it.”
“Couldn’t give a shit,” you reply, “I drink enough of yours. As for mum, flabbergasted is fitting.”
He hums a chuckle. “Her flabbers have been gasted.”
You take another drag, a snort laugh sounding your nose, trying to hold it in while you exhale, coughing, snorting and pissing yourself laughing. “I love that, fucking hell!” you cry, falling apart, passing him the spliff back. “See? That’s what I need, your uncanny way of offering comedy when I’m stressing.”
His hand slides to your boob, giving it a little squish. “I can offer other distractions too, if you like?”
“I like.” you confirm with a big grin, III leaning to kiss you fondly. Once you’ve made yourself something for dinner, he does, too. However, it isn’t just the sexual that he keeps you entertained with, both of you spending the remaining early hours of the morning enjoying a pastime you’ve both become quite passionate about.
“See when I was told the story of you whittling that icy butt plug, I thought it would probably have been quite a crude attempt,” you speak, working the fine blade in your hand to smooth the edge of the marble. “I had no idea you could actually do any of this properly.”
“Yeah,” he speaks, making a few careful taps at the edge of the chisel, “I got into it back when we lived in Rome in 1832. I was only a baby of seven, and giving both II and Ves a really fucking hard time with my urges, so they suggested I find something to channel it into and calm down fucking everything that moved. Had a bit of a habit of, well... things I’m not proud of.”
You see the shame cross his handsome features, his shoulders drawing up a little. “Such as?”
He makes a noise of discomfort. “I erm, ended up killing quite a few of my first lovers. The blood lust when you’re brand new is something you really have to fight hard against to control. I never told you that before because I didn’t want you to be afraid of me any more than you once were; or think less of me.”
Oh, he’s so bloody sweet. “Charlie, I know what you are, what you’re capable of. I understand. I don’t condone it, but I get it. It must be really tough an impulse to fight.”
“God, I got so fucking lucky, meeting you,” he sighs, reaching to stroke your cheek. “You’re such a forgiving person, but still don’t ever hesitate to be real and state where you think my actions have been wrong. I appreciate that honesty.”
You smile, leaning to kiss him, taking some wet and dry paper to begin smoothing over the finished curve on your side of the marble. He’s the teacher to your apprentice here, together crafting what will be one of two marble urns to place either side of the steps out in the garden. You’ve decided that once the weather is a little less hostile, you’re going to focus on making it a little more hospitable.
“So, tell me about how you came to learn this, then. And why I didn’t know about it until very recently,” you request, continuing to smooth the edge of the marble.
He chuckles a little, looking mischievous. “Once I got my murderous urges under control, shagging became my main hobby once again.” Hardly surprising, really, coming from a vampire who estimates to have bedded over twenty thousand people over his two hundred plus years.
“We knew a man there named Giacinto, who was a master of his craft and agreed to teach me how to carve when his art school was closed at nighttime. Just me and this seventy-eight-year-old little Italian man who had the exact same temperament as II. No patience for fools, but a huge heart beneath the chilly exterior. I was terrible to begin with, and he had no qualms about reminding me of that. Regularly, too! What he taught me, though, was perhaps the patience I’ve since forgotten in the interim, like when I’m being a dickhead who acts before he thinks.”
He still looks a little ashamed of himself, his actions that resulted in your first full-blown fight with him. Quarrelling in your relationships has been few and far between so far, mostly down to the fact that the undead tend to have emotional maturity in shades. That doesn’t mean it isn’t nullified, though, as tonight has clearly displayed.
“It’s soothing as well, isn’t it?” you muse, your thumb swiping over the shiny, buffed edge of marble. “It’s definitely helping me relax.”
“Art is a therapeutic outlet.” he agrees, the pair of you continuing with your task as he reveals a few humorous anecdotes about Giacinto.
“He’s the reason I quickly became fluent in Italian,” he speaks, humming with laughter, “so I could understand what he was saying when he cussed me out.”
“Do you speak many, like Ves?”
He snorts. “Fuck, no. I speak Italian, French, Russian, Spanish, Old Norse and a smattering of Portuguese. Ves speaks them all, it’s fucking incredible, listening to him be able to switch like that. He could interpret for a UN conference all on his own.”
His statement makes you laugh, continuing with your task, settling into the rhythmic peace of it. Over the days that pass between then and Friday, you find yourself down there with III quite often, or losing yourself to a good book in the library with II, all four of your vampires finding their own ways to assist in taking your mind off your parent’s impending arrival.
“Fiona’s been,” Ves speaks, standing in the doorway of the lounge on Friday evening, watching you hovering around, moving things in and out of place.
“And?” you speak.
“And so, why are you still tidying when she did it while we were all sleeping?” he speaks, a rumbled laugh echoing his throat. “Well, you and I weren’t, but the others were.”
Indeed, your vampire kept you held in the glare of his usual sexual devastation for most of the morning before you both finally slept at 10am. “Because I’m having palpitations and I don’t know what to do and they’ll be here in an hour and oh my god did I tell Fiona to make up one of the guest bedrooms?”
Your garbled sentence, delivered without the slightest pause for breath has him laughing softly. “No, you didn’t, because I’d already told her to.” Moving before you, he gently grasps your shoulders. “You need to calm down, darling. Take a few deep breaths.”
There’s sense in his words, but they don’t quite settle into your anxious brain, feeling as if your nerves are powered by a gigantic turbine.
Even as Ves attempts to coax a sense of calm into you, your mind races with every tiny detail that could possibly go wrong. You nod, feigning composure, though your heart feels ready to beat right out of your chest, hands fiddling with a stray thread on your sleeve. “I just, I’m so nervous that this isn’t going to go well, Ves,” you admit, voice wavering as the reality of your parents’ imminent arrival presses in.
He offers a warm, reassuring smile and gently squeezes your shoulders, anchoring you to the present, and for a fleeting moment, the cyclone of anxiety dulls, replaced by the quiet certainty that whatever chaos the next hour brings, you won’t be facing it alone.
“If it doesn’t,” he begins, pulling you into the security of his embrace, “it shan’t be because of anything you, or us, did or did not do. I’ve already emphatically warned III and IV to be on their best behaviour, or else, so truly you have nothing to fret over, my love.”
Your head shoots up, startled. “IV is actually make an appearance?” That’s certainly news to you. “He told me the night before last that he was still undecided.”
“I know,” he reveals, “I heard you giving him hell for it, as you should have. And as I did while you were relaxing in the bath. I told him in no uncertain terms that if he didn’t make an effort, I’d be painting the garden with a mist of his blood.”
You’re only just about getting used to it, the barbarity that lurks, shimmering dangerously beneath the calmer surfaces of the elder vampires especially. “There’d be no need for bloodshed, but I appreciate your input all the same.”
He kisses your head, hands fanning out as they sweep over your back. “I think because you see me at my most loving and gentle, you often forget my wrath, darling.”
True, you suppose. It’s with that in mind – but of course with no honest fear for yourself – that you decide not to argue with him over it.
The minutes tick by agonisingly slowly, your four vampires all assisting in their own ways to keep you calm and halt your pacing and faffing, including IV hilariously sitting on you and refusing to move.
“I need a wee, get up!” you shout in the end, pushing until he stands and shrugs.
“Worked for a bit, at least. I think that’s one of top things I don’t miss about being human, being at the mercy of a fucking thimble of a bladder.” he speaks, sitting down again while you race out and up the stairs. It’s while you’re on your way back down again that headlights illuminate the front of the house, sending beams of light through the ornate glass panes that border either side of the front door.
You’re just about to begin panicking when II arrives with you. “Keep calm. I’ll greet them with you, save them having to deal with all four of us at once.”
Good thinking. You nod, opening the door to see your parent’s walking towards the house from where they’ve parked up, your dad wheeling along a small suitcase behind him. Arriving with you, his grip hardens around the handle, eyes flitting over you standing there leaning into II’s embrace, his arm wrapped around your waist in support.
“Hi,” your boyfriend begins, trying hard to keep his tone light despite his usual indifference to anyone human. “It’s good to meet you both in person, if you...”
That’s as far as he gets before your dad releases his grip on the suitcase handle and rapidly recoils his fist, punching him straight in the face.
Of all the vampires he could have chosen, it had to be the one with a history of savagery. It had to be the Viking king, didn’t it? For fuck’s sake...
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“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Noah chants beneath his breath with every squeeze of your cunt around his cock, each deep stroke pushing him closer to the edge. He’s faltering now, every movement edging him nearer to his climax. When you gaze up, you catch the beautiful sight of him in the mirror ahead of you—Noah behind you, your ass raised, chest pressed down into the bed.
Your mouth hangs open, soft moans spilling between plump lips. The sharp slap of his hand against your ass draws a yelp, quickly followed by the rough kneading of his large palm, and then another swat.
“I’m gonna fill you, baby,” he grunts. “Fill you up nice and good. Make your pretty little pussy all mine.”
His hips quicken as he slams into you from behind, each thrust making your fingers tighten around the sheets, your eyes rolling back as moans of pleasure pour from your lips. He’s pulling you apart bit by bit, unraveling you around him, and you feel the final thread snap, dragging him over the edge with you.
Noah leans down, pressing his forehead to your back as a shuddering whine slips past his lips. He grips you tightly through the wave of his climax, hips jerking erratically as he falls apart inside you. There’s nothing you love more than this, the way he breaks, the heavy throb of his cock, the way he presses as deep as possible, warmth flooding you with every spurt of cum.
It takes a moment for the wave to fully wash over him, for both of you to come back to yourselves. When he finally does, he slowly draws himself back.
You shudder as he slips out of you, the sudden emptiness making you whine as you clench around nothing, determined to keep his cum inside despite the way you feel it slowly leaking, a sticky, warm mess trailing along your cunt and down your thighs.
“God,” he mutters, leaning back to admire the mess spilling from you. “Your pussy looks so pretty when it’s filled with my cum,” he coos.
At his sudden, unexpected touch, you let out a moan, leaning back into it as Noah watches his tattooed fingers drag between your folds, collecting the cum leaking from you, mixed with your own. Your hips buck as you try to press back against his fingers, but he pulls them away, bringing them to his mouth.
Slowly, deliberately, he rubs his fingers over his lips, coating them in the blend of your juices. In the mirror, you watch as he taunts you, a quivering moan slipping past your lips while you press back against his still half hard cock, grinding along his shaft, aching to feel him inside you again.
“Noah, please…” you beg, gasping, but all he does is smirk, slipping his tongue out to lick over his fingers, an audible groan leaving him at the taste of you coating them.
“You want more?” he asks, hazy eyes fixed on your reflection as his hand glides up to your waist, guiding your rhythmic, desperate grinding against him.
“Yes…” you breathe, doing your best to keep your eyes on him in the mirror. Every nerve ending feels like it’s on fire, desperate for more, desperate for him. As he reaches a hand down, he grips his cock and guides himself, rubbing the mushroomed tip between your folds, teasing it back and forth until he tilts his hips forward and you press back, meeting him.
He gasps and his other hand moves to your waist, gripping you firmly as he holds you still. A soft, trembling “fuck…” slips from him, a shiver rippling through his body at the sensation—his cock still sensitive as it’s squeezed between your tight, needy walls, feeling you clench and drag him deeper.
Holding you in place, his thumbs rub at the divot in your lower back, grounding both of you. Leaning over you, he crowds you easily, teeth grazing your jaw as you tilt your head back to give him more access.
“I want you to make yourself cum over my cock,” he urges, and you already know you’ll do anything for him. Your body quivers with pleasure, eyes fluttering as you try to keep them fixed on him in the mirror. His teeth nip between kisses along your jaw as you reach a hand beneath you, slipping it between your thighs.
You find your clit easily, met with the slickness of his cum mixed with your own wetness, circling the sensitive nub as you squeeze around his cock. Noah groans against your jaw, his head pressing close to yours as his hands settle at your hips, keeping you in place while he grinds into you—the drag of his cock between your walls encouraging every slow, desperate movement of your fingers.
The pleasure builds quickly now, rising with dizzying intensity. Turning your head, your mouth meets his in the best kiss you can offer—sloppy, heated, hungry, moaning into each other’s mouths as he continues to grind, using your cunt as his own personal fleshlight, working you like a fuckdoll.
You feel him twitch inside you, the stutter in his movements as he’s edged closer. Your cunt squeezes around him again, recognizing the signs, urging him, needing him to cum with you, to cum inside you and fill you all over again.
He doesn’t disappoint. His movements stay steady until you feel it, the shuddering, dizzying climax crashing over you, soaking him and your fingers. His hips jerk as his cock pulses inside you, spurting hot ropes of cum deep into you, filling you once more as his hips press flush to yours, pinning you beneath him.
Chest heaving, he drops his head, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, leaving faint kisses wherever his mouth brushes. He clings to you for just a moment longer as your body sinks into the mattress, the slightest movement making your walls flutter around his twitching cock in your shared, oversensitive state.
Scrolling on your phone, you suddenly hear a soft thud. You jump in your seat, but you don’t think anything of it and go back to the videos.
A crack sound resonates through the living room, causing you to snap your head up and look around the room. Despite seeing nothing abnormal, a shiver runs down your spine. You turn your phone’s flashlight on, get up from the couch and go investigate.
As you make your way towards the bathroom, you hear another thud behind you. You stop in your track and turn your head slowly. A large shadow appears in the corner of your eye, making you jump and take a step back.
“AH!” You yell and begin to run away, only for an arm to grab you.
“It’s me! It’s Vessel!” He exclaims, grabbing you by your waist.
You turn your flashlight towards his face and a sigh of relief comes out from your mouth as you see the familiar facial features of your boyfriend.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you Darling,” he giggles as he pulls you closer to comfort you.
Your boyfriends love you as you are...but wouldn't it be more fun for you to be in charge sometimes?
Vessel x IV x f!Reader
head's up: Smut, bi/poly!token, consent checks and negotiation, some hurt/comfort, I think there's a mention of "whore" but in a sexy way, no beta we flood like Atlantic
a/n: I saw the great Hypnosis Spanking of the EIA tour with my own gay eyeballs. I actually looked like the "girl who's going to be ok" meme and knew that these goofy poly roommates would be back in a major way.
masterlist #woofie's situations <-follow for notifs
“Dude, stop! For fuck’s sake.” Poor IV was stuck doing dishes with Vessel.
But you cooked, so they were cleaning up. IV was happy to do that for you. Always. But the boyfriend you shared was testing his patience. When you came into the kitchen, Vessel was giggling and scampering away from IV who looked like be was about to run up on someone talking about his mother.
“Boys?” You call from the doorway. IV almost has Vessel in a corner when they turn to look at you. His earlier irritation immediately vanishes. No reason to look at his girl like that. He gives you a boyish half smile. An angel. Meanwhile, Ves is towers over him against the counter with a smirk, but he’s blushing. They both are, honestly. Flushed. “What’s going on?” You ask, knowing full well what’s going on, just not the specifics.
“Ivy wasn’t letting me love o-“
“Vessel was sneaking up and spanking me every time I picked up a plate or a knife! A KNIFE, babe!” IV interrupts, the sheepish little tattletale. Vessel just rolls his eyes and titters.
“You have strong hands, Ives,” he teases, “you’d have been fiiiiine.”
IV wants to spar with Ves but you move closer. This is all a game. There are all kinds of ways it could play out. You watch them. You join them; you join them and get tossed around, etc etc. But clearly…
“Hmm…” you stand beside IV and address him, but your eyes are on Vessel. Sizing him up. Making him feel vulnerable. Like prey. “Someone can’t keep their hands to themselves can they?”
IV snorts softly. “Or take direction.”
“Oh come off it, guys…” Vessel sputters, but the bulge in his jeans betrays him.
You and IV turn to look at each other slowly, as if conspiring. The wavelength is strong between you two, so you both shrug. “Alright Ves. All is forgiven.” Ivy says smugly. Vessel nods in gratitude and watches as IV goes back to washing up, his gaze glued to his ass.
“I fucking dare you,” you whisper.
Thwak
IV spins around and shoves Vessel up against the cabinet. You watch as Vessel sticks his tongue out attempting to lick IV’s lips as the shorter man yanks at his collar. “You want the night like this, huh? Be a little brat bastard?” IV taunts.
This makes Vessel chuckle. He peers over at you but IV tugs at him again.
“No. She won’t help you.”
“She dared me! And you know how that always ends…” Vessel teases in a shitty little sing-songy cadence before IV grips his jaw, making his pretty lips pucker just the slightest.
“Darling,” IV calls out, as causal as asking where the remote is, “you hear this?”
Oh. Here we go. IV wants you to be all domme with him against little bratty Vessel. He knows it isn’t your usual style. You’re too sweet. The resident lover girl. You were ok with the banter but it felt like a bit much for you to bring that to the bedroom. While it appears Ves’s braincell is trying to come up with some devious one-liner, you speak up. “I’m…not really in the mood for that tonight. Sorry.”
Neither of them have ever made you feel bad about saying no but feeling guilty was something that came easily to you. Both of their faces softened and the shenanigans stopped there.
The energy changed a little. Again, neither guy was mad but you felt like you spoiled the fun. It wouldn’t have been fair or healthy to power through. So why did you feel like you let your guys down? They notice. Of course they notice. Vessel finds you sitting at your vanity, brushing your hair mindlessly.
“Mmm.” He sighs with reverence as looks up at you from where he kneels on the floor. “So pretty. …Y’ok, love?”
You shrug and put your hairbrush down a little harder than you mean to. “I…yeah. I just don’t like…being mean the way IV wants me to be.”
Vessel swallows and nods. “I understand…but I do know he doesn’t mean any harm. He just...wants to see your tougher side sometimes. It would be hot, but he won't force you to be anything other than wonderful you.”
He leans over and kisses your shoulder once. But he goes in for another and before you know it he’s kissing your neck. Your eyes roll back as his bottom lip traces up to your jaw. Ves isn’t even trying to be particularly seductive, but your thighs part.
“Oh.” You both jolt up to see IV in the doorway. “Uhm sorry, didn’t know you two…were…”.
It feels a little awkward. You had just said you weren’t feeling it. “No, it’s fine…fine this just happened because we were talking and-“ you’re stumbling over your words when IV puts his hand up to wave you off.
“No worries, really. I’ll leave you two be if you want…” There’s a collective sigh. The intrepid throuple goes to bed quiet, a little horny, and feeling a little off.
The next morning, Vessel left early to run his errands, leaving you and IV alone. You laid in bed alone, contemplating the vibe for the day and how you already felt like you were walking on egg shells. Part of you wanted to sweep the previous evening under the rug, but the more mature part actually won out. You wrapped yourself in a throw blanket and padded into the kitchen where IV was drinking his coffee. There was a second, taller mug on the counter as well. And it was yours. That warmed your heart enough to have even more courage. And then…fuck. That smile when he looks up at you. “Don’t get any cuter, please. I’ll die where I stand,” he says as he pulls you close, not even trying to pry the blanket off you. “M’little lover girl.”
You giggle and bury your face in his neck. Nestled against his teddy bear self, you melted a little. “You’re not mad at me,” you squeak out.
“Mad at…tsk…you little…” IV pulls away and chuckles, but his face betrays him. He feels sad that you’d even ask. “Babe, why do you think I’d be mad at you?”
“Well…I felt bad for saying ‘no’ yesterday. Like we could have had a lot of fun with what you were offering but…”
“If you don’t want it, then we don’t do it. Same goes for either combo of us, you know this. It…” IV trails off and shrugs. “It did sting a bit to catch you neckin' with Ves, but, I…I recognize that I suggested something you don’t always like. So if you two wanted some time, it’s cool.”
You nod and look down sadly. “We didn’t mean anything by it but…you know that. Ivy…I just—“ you sigh heavily and look back up at him, “I feel like the domme stuff is something you want that I can’t give. And I hate that. Like maybe I’m not…”
IV quiets your fears with a firm kiss. Eventually you’ll have to tell him that you feel inadequate sexually for him sometimes, mainly because he’s interested in seeing the other sides of you. You’re so happy to be thrown around and used, or soft and pliant…you wouldn’t know the first thing about brat taming or being more dominant. The kisses grow deeper. Soon his greedy hands are under the blanket, kneading your ass as he sucks at your bottom lip.
“D’you know why I want to see you in charge,” he rasps. “Not because I like that necessarily…don’t want to fit you into something you’re not…” IV pushes the blanket to floor and hoists you on the counter. “I want it cuz you’d be fucking amazing at it, babe…” His breath comes out in hot little puffs on your neck as his plush lips melt into every sweet spot from cheek to collarbone. “It makes me so hard to think about you being in charge. Making us do what you want.”
As he’s talking to you, warming you up to the idea of being your sweethearts’ domme, your vision blurs because he’s tracing your pussy through your panties. “I…I wouldn’t be…good at it…but I…mmm” you grip his arm to stop before he gets any closer to the edge of the fabric. “I want to be everything for you. For both of you. But my…my head gets in the way. I either need to be everything all at once and all together perfect, or I need to just…stay in my lane.”
In response, IV cups your face and pulls you in before your noses can touch. “I am so sorry your brain does that and makes you feel like you have to make yourself small. And apologize for speaking up for your needs. I’d do anything to take that away, love. But if you ever wanted to try…just try…I’d love to talk you through it.”
“Ta-talk me through it?”
“Mhm…maybe…I tell you what I’d like you to do…like specific little things.” IV chuckles. That glorious sound breaks all the tension. “We all know I’m simple. Feel like once I told you about how I picture you being a domme you’d run with it and just…wwhooosshhh,” he mimes his mind being blown.
The cogs are turning, you can tell. You knew he wanted you to give Vessel a taste of his own medicine sometimes but otherwise you didn’t really know what he had in mind. It was like someone took over your body. You leaned back on your elbow and cocked your eyebrow…maybe this domme stuff is easy for you because his cock was already twitching in his joggers. “Tell me what it looks like,” you purr.
“Fuck…just like that,” he groans. “And you’d tell me what to do…no waiting for me to move you around or tell—“
The power you had over him on this regular Thursday morning was intoxicating. Telling him how you felt made all the difference but actually seeing him fold for you…that solidified for you that you could do it. Even if it felt a little cringe when you opened your mouth. "Mhm, I got that…” you smile and chuckle softly. “Show me how hard this makes you.”
And without a word IV slips his joggers down until the waistband is stretched over his thighs. “Like that?” He asks with a cheeky grin. Oh you could get so fucking used to this.
“Mhm…good boy…but no touching.”
“No…no…” IV chuckles. He’s practically giddy. Absolutely beside himself and blushing. “Wouldn’t dream of it til you tell me to, love.” As a little treat, you delicately touch the lacy trim of your panties, directing his gaze where you want it. “Need to eat it, babe….please…” His composure is shot. He’s still blushing and silly about how turned on his, but you lounging there like a meal that he didn’t have a right to yet made him antsy. “Please…may I?”
His pleas sound so sweet, his desire and eagerness hotter than ever. “Knees,” you order gently. As if it wasn’t satisfying enough to see IV so obedient, his reverent eagerness sold you completely on this "in charge" business. “Look at you…fuck.” Normally he’d start with his fingers to tease a little or massage your thighs, but this morning he leaned in to lap at your entrance as soon as he possibly could. The most natural thing in the world was to keep cooing his name while brushing back the blonde tufts of his hair as he delicately pried open your folds for jut a single drop of you. You luxuriated in his pace…slow but not to tease. No, just to enjoy. It was so leisurely you started drinking the coffee IV made for you. This was the fucking life.
“Oh shit.”
Poor Vessel nearly dropped his laptop bag right next to his jaw on the floor. You gripped IV’s hair to keep him in place, to just focus on your pussy instead of Ves. “Oh hi sweetheart…we didn’t know you’d be home so soon.”
It’s as though Vessel has never seen you two fuck. His voice quivers in his throat without actually making any words, and his eyes bug out to watch Ivy suck at your clit. “He-he-hey…hi…uhm…hi guys. What’re you…heh”
“What does it look like, Ves? Hm?” You ask with a coyness that makes IV chuckle and moan into your pussy. He’s loving your new confidence and shows it by wrapping his arms around your thighs and shaking his head. “Use your words.”
“Fuckin hell,” he gulps. “Looks like…like you got IV in his place.”
“Oh you think on his knees is where he belongs?” You ask with a raised brow.
“Uhm…”
Oh sweet, dumb Vessel. You hadn’t even drained him yet and he was already putty in your hands. IV stops when you pull him away from your pussy, his pretty face all slick. “That’s a big statement from someone who was a massive brat last night. You agree, IV?”
“Whatever you say, love.” He pants.
“Great now he’s all pussy drunk…tsk two against one,” Ves chimes in. He cannot help but talk back a little even though he’s completely dumbfounded (but not surprised) by how quickly you’ve stepped into your power.
“What was that?”
Vessel gulps and sets down the laptop bag. Tentatively, he steps closer and kneels. “Sorry. Sorry.”
“Changed your tune,” IV jokes, nudging him.
“Shut up. You’re the one drooling on the kitchen floor,” Ves whispers as if he doesn’t want the teacher to hear him and IV cutting up.
“Ves…”
“Hmm?”
“Did I tell you to kneel?”
He goes beet red. IV snickers and shakes his head as Ves stands up and crowds you on the counter. Oh how tempting it was be to let your tall boy flip you over and fuck you like an easy little whore. But you needed to blow off some steam. “IV, darling, get Ves’s cock out.” To no one’s surprise, his cock sprung out his boxers already leaking. He loved watching you get eaten out almost as much as he loved eating you out. Actually he just loved your pussy and would be happy just to be involved. And you could tell it felt good as the morning air cooled his skin.
IV held Vessel’s erection firmly as he stood behind him, and rubbed the head softly against your clit. Vessel’s hands bolted out to touch you but you swatted them away, making him pout. But he loved it.
“S’all you get right now,” IV purred. He was commanding the taller man in his own way. Who could say “no” to IV once he had his hand or mouth on you.
“Fuck…” Vessel cringed. He wanted to touch you…IV…himself…anything. But instead he was stuck with his dangly arms awkwardly to his sides as IV’s calloused hands guided the curve of his cock flush against your outer petals and clit. “Fuck I’m…I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good for…” he begged.
“Aw Ves…such sweet little whines…” you tease. His face goes even redder as you giggle and moan. “Ivy, baby, just put the tip in…”
“Please…I…I need all of you just let me….fuck…Ivy…”. Vessel’s eyes rolled back and bottom lip turn white from him biting back a wanton, pathetic moan. “So…so…fucking soaked…”
“She knows what she likes…look at how she’s throbbing watching you lose your mind over the bare fucking minimum…”
“Mmm… mhm” you chuckle, “I think the bare minimum would be him having to just listen, baby…sounds like a good idea to me…”
“Nooo no no no…please no…let me play please…please”
“IV push him in.”
Vessel cries out and nearly falls atop you as IV’s hips push against his ass, making him clumsily enter you. But you take it in stride. Your back arches as he grabs your soft, lovely waist. As he fucks into you, you beckon IV to your side. The sighs of relief and lust are intoxicating as you lift your shirt for their greedy hands. You suck off IV, and let Vessel rock against you like he can’t believe he’s allowed this privilege. The neediness and submission your boys show you is mind melting. Vessel keeps one gentle hand on your breast, but you aren’t sure where his other is until you feel IV’s cock throb even more in your mouth. You open your eyes to Ves’s pretty, spidery hand wrapped around IV’s neck. The shorter man’s eyes are glazed over and fucked out as Ves squeezes that gorgeous throat until they’re both moaning…a little call and response. Vessel fucks into you harder with more intention now. He wants you to cum on his cock while your mouth works IV into a frenzy.
“Y’wanna face fuck her, yeah?” Vessel whispers, almost like a challenge. “See her pretty…her eyes…roll back as you…mmm fuck.”
He can’t even finish his sentence…the thought alone gets him so close to the edge. As Vessel keeps up the pace to cum inside you, you’re groaning and attempting to hold off the orgasm you’ve nearly rubbed out as you listened to your boys talk. IV groans as you moan on his thick cock, swatting your hand away to claim your orgasm for himself. In turn of course, Vessel absolutely looses control of his hips and cries out a broken little moan as he empties his cum into you. “Damnit IV…I wasn’t ready…”
IV pulls his cock from your mouth with a cheeky grin. He’s held off and hasn’t cum yet, but he’s completely chuffed that he made you both get off at the same time. That smile fades pretty quickly though as both you and Vessel start to crowd him into the living room. Seems like someone wants to be the brat now.
vessel asking for a list of your enemies, yes please 🙂↕️
Also hi bb 💕 I hope you're well!!!
it appears i've been spotted in the wild... /silly
okay, let me just. let me try to feel this one out. try to write something.
when vessel falls in love with you he falls so fucking hard, and of course you fall just as hard. with his personal experiences, he's not used to having a love that doesn't include pain and conflict and toxicity. he's not used to a love that doesn't look like sleep's version of "love".
when he loves you, he feels the need to be your provider protector. which is something that's already kind of a given from the songs alone. for instance, "give", which literally says "i will be watching for your enemies to let them know that they contend with me".
he wants to know who has wronged you, who has brought you pain and suffering. he wants to ensure that you are never brought harm by anyone ever again.
he wants names. he doesn't care what they did to become your enemy. if they're an enemy to you, then he trusts that, period. no questions asked, you can tell him about it if you want, he'll never pressure you!!!
if it was family, friends, exes, a stranger who was rude to you on the street, it doesn't matter. he remembers them all. and if any of them were to ever try to hurt you in any way again, he might actually kill them. in fact he probably has before.
you make him feel safe and protected just by being beside him, by holding him at night. all he wants to do is make you feel safe and protected too, even if the way he desires to do that could be seen as a little... extreme. give the guy credit though, he's learning the ways of humanity still
god help anyone who makes you cry. might as well be a fucking death wish. perks of being in a relationship with a deity, perhaps. a deity who would give you the entire planet if he could, or maybe burn it all down for you. a deity who would move mountains and pull the stars down to you if it meant you smiled, or would reach into the nine layers of hell and find the ones who brought you pain and make them suffer horrors beyond human comprehension.
im doing okay!! thank you for checking in! busy with work and health obligations, but hey... maybe the spark is returning...?
Haaaiii! I was wondering if I may request a vessel x reader fic with some fluffy smut. I don’t really have anything else to request because I like how your works flow, so if you have specifics you’d like to ask me you can. Or you can take it and run with it. Or choose not to do it. I’m rambling, sorry. 😅🫶🏻
fluffy smut + breathplay and marking (as requested via DMs), which wound up slotting perfectly into day 8 of kinktober - breathplay. hope you enjoy!
tw: breathplay, marking/biting
ao3
MINORS DNI
hooked on the hitch in your breath (vessel x gn!reader, sleep token)
Backstage is a riot of activity, as it always is before a ritual, but the thud of shoes and the din of the crew shouting instructions to each other - and beyond that, the muted roar of the crowd - barely manages to register over the rush of your breath in Vessel’s ears.
Your throat bobs as his teeth work a bruise into your flesh, the swell of his thumb tucked against your chin. Your breath huffs through your nose at the brush of incisors over skin razed tender by teeth and tongue, his name a reedy gasp, trembling, on the edge of your lips.
A subtle tightening of his fingers along the back of your throat breaks the syllables in two, your breath hitching against his lips, pulse quick against his tongue. Your fingers curl tightly in the folds of his cloak, knuckles brushing against his chest - lightly at first, until Vessel slots his body against yours, forcing your palm flat, fingers splaying along his sternum.
“ - ah,” he hears, a soft breath hissed from between your teeth. Your fingertips flinch against his flesh, a tremor running through your palm. You’re so afraid to touch him - really touch him - lest you leave some trace of yourself behind, smudge the paint coating his skin, as if Vessel wouldn’t welcome it, as if he wouldn’t wear the mark with pride.
“Touch me,” he urges you, breath thick against your throat.
“Vessel,” you groan, low, urgent, even as your fingers curl against his chest, the edge of a nail dragging sharply across his sternum. “Vessel, there’s no time.”
“We’ll make time,” he rasps, hungry, insistent, tracing the line of your throat with the pad of his thumb. You swallow roughly and his dick jumps at the sensation of your skin undulating against his palm, his breath hitching in time with yours as he squeezes at your flesh and feels the tripping of your pulse beneath his fingertips.
His other hand winds around your hip and drags you firmly against him, his mouth parting at the delicate friction of your sex against his. Your flesh shivers beneath his hand, a trapped moan trembling in the column of your throat, and Vessel wastes little time in setting a rhythm that has your head slumping back and your pulse jumping beneath the splay of his painted fingers.
Broken gasps spill from your parted lips as he grinds against you, quickly swallowed by the din backstage, but Vessel can feel them still, each muted whimper and hot puff of breath burning through his blood until he’s nearly insensate with desire, hips hitching against yours and tongue dragging hotly along the arch of your throat.
“Ves-sel,” you cry out softly, his name breaking in the middle as he squeezes once more at the delicate arch of your throat. Your fingers spasm against his chest and he gathers them up between his own, pressing them against the strip of flesh that cradles his heart and feeling your throat jump as you hear the muffled pounding of his pulse.
“This is your doing,” he rasps fiercely, fitting his teeth to the deepening bruise he’d coaxed into your flesh and dragging his incisors along the swath of hot, tender skin. You whine at the sting, jerking feebly in the circle of his arms, and in a fit of madness Vessel imagines disregarding the ritual and taking you on stage instead, driving himself into your warmth even as the crowd roars its approval. How hard your throat might hitch around its moans then. How sweetly you might sing.
“Oh god,” you moan, the syllables garbled on your tongue as you jerk against him, fingertips digging furrows into the paint coating his chest. Vessel can feel it flaking off beneath your nails, smudging your flesh with traces of thick, dark pigment, and satisfaction burns hotly in the pit of his stomach as he realizes there will be no time to fix it, not before he’s rushed on stage.
The thought of you marking him as indelibly as he had marked you rips a moan from Vessel’s throat, hips driving against yours as a familiar heat begins to coil at the base of his spine - a heat he can feel reflected in the sensuous curve of your body as it grinds feverishly against his, a heat he’ll carry with him long after he’s departed from your desperate embrace, a heat he knows the crowd will feel the moment he descends onto the stage.
A heat he’ll return to you, deep into the night and all the nights after, for as long as you’ll have him.
I'm quite thrilled at the response to the prologue, besties! I hope you enjoy what's to come just as much, if not more. Looking forward to reading your comments, it always thrills me so much to hear your thoughts!
Summary - In the tranquil village of Little Norton, your life can be described as comfortable, quiet and idyllic. One night, though, it takes a dark turn when you finally come face to face with the eerie presence you’ve sensed watching you from afar for months, encountering a mysterious vampire on your way home. His arrival in your life sets off a chain of events that lead to you becoming inextricably tied to him and his family, learning of the complex dynamics within it, as well as the greater purpose you represent to them.
A proposition and a promise are offered, yet to agree will see life as you know it changed forever. Are you ready for such a commitment, or will you leave them beneath the dark shadow that has followed the four undead men for centuries?
Previous chapters - Prologue
Words - 4,407
Warnings - Vampire fic, mentions of blood and gore, eventual smut. 18+ content, minors DNI!
Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed.
The heat from the roaring hearth welcomes you into the cottage, the air perfumed by a juxtaposition of earthy spices and fresh floral scents. Kicking off your shoes and hanging your coat and scarf up, you move into the small, yet quintessentially cottagecore living room.
You didn’t have the heart to spoil it by painting and decorating in anything that deviated from complimenting the originality, even though the urge to perhaps zhuzh it up a little with some bright colours nibbled at you persistently.
You stuck with a neutral colour palette, though, pale sage green, although you sensed that nothing would delight your dear, late grandmother – who bequeathed the property to you – more than to witness it painted the sunny yellow you were considering.
Hovering by the edge of the softly stuffed, battered old leather sofa, you’re just about to switch the TV on when there’s a crash in the kitchen.
“Ted?” you call. Swearing becomes audible. Oh, no. “Teddy, what are you attempting to cook in there? Please, not the masala fish again, darl. We both know you and masala fish don’t have the best track record.”
It took weeks to get the smell of burned salmon and masala spices out of the curtains; such was the depth of the odour. You’re about to move to the kitchen and offer some assistance, when your very triumphant looking housemate appears, holding two bowls aloft.
“Coronation chicken pasta ala Teddy, and I didn’t burn- oh, my god, what’s wrong with your face?” he begins, rapidly veering off mid-sentence when his eyes meet yours, his smile dropping faster than a stone falling into water.
You wave a dismissive hand, reaching for a bowl. “Nothing, it’s okay. I just had a run in with a bloody vampire outside, is all.”
He gasps, air sucked in over his vocal cords so rapidly, it sounds more like a wheeze. “Wait, wait! Oh, my Jesus. Oh!”
He places the bowl down on the coffee table, arms flailing around as he rushes back into the kitchen, the sound of rummaging reaching you. When he returns, oh...
“Teddy!” you cry, a little laugh rippling your voice. “Put that away!”
“No, you need this!”
You very much doubt a Waitrose three pack of garlic bulbs are going to do much good to you know, after the fact. “Garlic doesn’t instantly repel them, you know that.”
“It’s in all the films!”
Bless him. “Yes, for characterised vampires,” you point out, “and granted, while the real ones apparently don’t enjoy strong smells, they won’t instantly recoil at garlic. Or crucifixes, before you go upstairs and raid your jewellery.”
His mouth thins, nodding as he looks down at the garlic cloves, head then rapidly snapping up again, clicking his fingers. “I have colloidal silver! I’ve been preparing for this, for one to turn up in the village!”
He means well, but as usual, he’s flying into a panic where such is simply not the required response. “Teddy, come sit. Actually, no. Put the garlic back and fetch a couple of glasses. Look.” Delving into your bag, you pull out the bottle nestled within. “The chicken wine!”
That distracts him nicely. “Oh, they finally got it?” he exclaims, figuring your mutual pestering for it at the village off license finally paid off. He isn’t wrong, Beverly caving before ordering a few cases of La Vielle Ferme rosé on the strict proviso that you’d purchase it from her regularly enough to warrant the special order.
Unscrewing the cap from the bottle, Teddy proffers two glasses forth, plonking himself down on the sofa at your side. “So, now I’ve calmed down, tell me. A run in with one, yet I can see you’re fine?”
“It was weird,” you begin, filling the glasses before setting the bottle down and taking a glass from him. “Cheers.” Toasting him, you take a sip before continuing. God, that’s good rosé. “He just appeared, as they often do.”
“Where you scared?” he interrupts with, as he often does.
Picking up your pasta bowl, your eyes widen, resting it upon your lap. “Oh, fuck yes. Of course, I bloody was. To begin with, and then, hmm. I dunno. I felt... calm? Calm, but still wary. He was a big fella. Really tall, broad chest, although the rest of him was pretty lean. And he just stands there, doesn’t say a fucking word to me at first. Stared at me and that was it. Then he grabbed my arm and stopped me from falling over, stared at me some more, said one word to me and vanished.”
“Was the word clumsy?” he asks, amused. “Because you are in those boots. I keep telling you, high heels and wet leaves do not go hand in hand. Or foot in foot, as the case may be.”
“Omega.”
He ceases his chewing immediately. “I beg your pardon?”
“That’s what he said to me. Omega.”
He gapes slightly. “That’s it?!”
Placing your fork down, you reach beneath his chin, shutting his open mouth with a soft clunk. “Yeah, that’s it. Weird, isn’t it?”
A whole host of micro expressions convey his disbelief. “Weird is putting it mildly, Gracie. That’s full on bizarre!” Spearing up pasta bows with his fork, he’s thoughtful for a few moments, eyes flitting between you and his food hesitantly.
“What?” you inquire. “Spit it out.”
“Do you think he was messing with you on purpose?”
“Of course, on purpose,” you snort, chewing through a piece of chicken. “They never do anything unless it serves a purpose, but what the bloody purpose is of scaring me half to frigging death and then speaking such a cryptic word before vanishing, is anybody’s guess!”
He continues to chew, contemplating. “They don’t usually come out into the sticks, do they?” He’s correct there. Vampires, ever since revealing themselves to the public at large five years ago, mostly dwell within the busier cities where there are ample food sources. Not that it truly matters, really, when you’re dealing with a creature capable of movement so quick, the human eye is unable to detect it. Travelling to feed isn’t an issue.
“Odd. Really bleedin’ odd,” Teddy surmises, shaking his head as he reaches for his wine. “What did he look like?”
Like nothing you have ever, ever seen before. “He looked like he was dressed to play a character, although I couldn’t tell you who. Long robe, black trousers, lots of jewellery and a mask that half covered his face. He was black, too, strangely.”
Immediately, you’re nudged and tutted at. “Grace! You’re not a racist?”
“No, no,” you rush, wincing, realising you could have perhaps worded that better. “I don’t mean as in black racially. I mean as in, jet black. Like he’d been body painted.” You pause, feeling uncomfortable. “He was gorgeous, from what I could see.”
“Oooh, girly!” Teddy enthuses, with a little tremble of excitement. “Now we’re getting to the good stuff!” Tittering a little more, he continues. “Maybe he’d been out someplace, so he was dressy? Masks and robes, sounds very clandestine. Like the way those people who do the decadent sex party's dress.”
Your eyebrow arches. “And what would you know of decadent sex parties, my love?”
“I don’t just sit in the house watching Eastenders and waiting for you to come home, you know!” he bustles, chuckling with mirth. “Nah, but you know what I mean, right? All those fancy London types with the illicit shagging marathons at secret sex clubs.”
“Little Norton is a bit far from London,” you point out, scooping up the remaining pasta sauce with the slice of garlic ciabatta provided.
“Yes, but that doesn’t matter for a vampire, does it? You know, with the speed and all that.”
You feel like you’ve veered off course a little, sipping your wine and placing your bowl down on the coffee table. “It still doesn’t explain what he’s doing here, or why he appeared like that, said omega and then vanished.” You mull it over a little, Teddy still chewing through his mouthful of pasta. “Maybe time will tell?”
“And if he does have the hook up for those fancy sex parties, let me know, eh?” he winks, “However, I refuse to shag him, even if he is pretty. I don’t think I could do it, you know. Let a vampire up my bum.”
You fall apart laughing at that, giving him a few soft nudges with your elbow as you hiss with amusement. While you and Teddy sit and eventually fall into other topics of discussion, the vampire moves through the night, the wind rushing by him in a furious gust, his form finally coming to a stop.
Looking up, he views his new abode with scrutinous eyes, noting that the scaffolding has moved. Progress. About time too, with what he’s paying the builders.
The ancient, crumbling decay of Norton House is receiving a much-needed facelift after lying in abandoned ruin for so many years. The people who inherited it from their long passed and much wealthier relatives simply didn’t have the financial means to renovate the property, so it has stood empty, barren and decayed for over ninety years.
For the vampire wishing to purchase it quickly, offering an ample stack of cash to the owners, the state of it didn’t matter one bit. It was the location that was of importance to him.
Scanning the building, he sees the roof is now completely redone, a few windows replaced as well with the newest in vampire-friendly technology. Shadow glass. It allows a room to be illuminated by the sunlight, without actually letting any of its deathly ray's beam through, thus burning to death the undead dwelling behind it.
Getting that past English Heritage was a ball ache he did not enjoy enduring, the jobsworths insisting on originality in keeping with the Grade II listed building.
“Madam, I must insist that while every effort will be undertaken to restore Norton House to its former glory, the shadow glass is non-negotiable. It can’t have escaped you what I am, can it?” he’d drawled to the woman who’d quite relished in making his existence a misery over it. Of course, she had tried to argue further, but the red eyed stare glowing out from beneath his mask, coupled with the pop of two long, sharp fangs had led to her swallowing heavily before approving the permission.
Entering the home, he immediately senses the presence of two more, picking up on the third, feeling he’s roughly around twenty miles away. He always feels them, the ones he has created, his blood forever linking their essence to his own.
Reaching to the back of his head, he unfastens the mask he is forced to conceal himself behind in public, hanging it as well as his robe up there on the designated pegs in the welcome hall. Within a rapid passing of time, he’s gone upstairs, showered off the paint covering him and returned, same trousers, bare chested, into the beautifully renovated space. It looks much better than it did a month ago, the walls re-plastered, painted a deep, sumptuous shade of claret, the oak floorboards waxed and buffed to a pristine shine.
When one has ample money, entire teams of people can be paid to work around the clock. Still, much of the property remains in shambles, the vampire strolling through the bare lounge, dust sheets underfoot, the fresh plaster upon the walls looking almost dry.
Looking up, he sees the original coving that cost him thousands to restore all fixed back in place again, everything looking ready to be painted the dark grey and contrasting white he chose in paint. He doubts he’ll spend much time in there, but with a vampire in the family who is fond of gaming, he wanted to provide a space for a large television and plethora of consoles.
The musky aroma coming from the second lounge in the next room over, one still in tatters of peeling paint, decaying walls and rising damp hits his nose a thousand times stronger than it would a mere mortal, but it doesn’t bother him too much. The important rooms are now furnished, at least. Bedrooms, bathroom and kitchen. The rest are unurgent.
“When the fuck is that woman going to commence work on my library?”
Well, someone else certainly has his own thoughts regarding the order of refurbishment.
“Good evening to you, too, II.” He always meets his blunt rudeness with a more graceful disposition, knowing well how to deal with his often-hostile temperament.
A sharp side eye is earned, the vampire looking at him from over the top of a book. “Don’t give me that bloody sarcasm of yours. I want a place to read that’s fit for purpose, Vessel. Surely that isn’t too much to ask? Making us leave Tokyo and our beautiful home for this barely furnished hellhole. Without the one thing you know I hold dear!”
Most who know him shorten his name to Ves. Except for II, usually when annoyed, which is often. “We have dwelled in places much shabbier than this. It seems you forget this. I remember you made little complaint when we dwelled within the caves for a couple of hundred years. You’re becoming bourgeoise in your old age.”
He grunts, shaking his head as he returns to the well-thumbed pages of the book in his hands. The silence stretches out, Ves pottering around the kitchen, preparing himself a cup of Earl Grey. While certain cinematic renditions of vampires have detailed that the beings solely exist on the blood of the living, it is not true that they cannot still imbibe of human sustenance. They just don’t need to in order to survive.
Food can still be eaten and drinks enjoyed, although things such as coffee or alcohol do not work as stimulus, being that they are dead. For some unknown, strange occurrence, they also do not make waste in the same way a human does, never needing to pass water or stool. What happens to the food is anyone’s guess, really. Vessel himself often explains it in his own mind that whatever magic created him also does away with whatever he chooses to eat, lest it lay rotting in an unworking digestive system.
Not that he is a regular eater at all, but does love his tea. Some of his kind simply do so because they enjoy it and nothing more, some to attach themselves to a sense of humanity lost when they are made into what they are. Then there are some who never let anything other than blood pass their lips. Vampires, much like the humans they were, all differ.
A sound coming from the basement of the property, in what used to be the old wine cellar tears up into the space then. Not that their bionic hearing didn’t pick up on her prior to the shrill scream moving through the stillness of the air like a blade.
“At least somebody is enjoying himself,” II mutters, eyes not leaving the pages he turns carefully. He could read the entire volume in his hands in about two minutes at the speed he is capable of processing words, yet chooses not to use his vampiric talents unless he needs to garner the information rapidly.
Ves smiles, humming a soft chuckle. “III always does.” he replies fondly, speaking of his second-youngest fledgling. At just two hundred years old, he’s still settling into it, what he is. Vampires, it is noted, only truly come into their poise at around five hundred, so he has a few centuries left to run semi-wild. “I’m only surprised that he’s down there with just one.”
Indeed, III has a penchant for entertaining multiple lovers at the same time. Regularly.
The vampires exist within the space in silence, Ves sipping at his tea while gazing at the very overgrown back garden, considering his options. He could easily afford to have it brought back under control by a landscaping team and tended to in the daylight hours by a gardener, or simply brick it over with paving. The desire for a nice, outdoor space is a little too human for his wants and needs, he feels, although in their previous home he did enjoy the tranquillity of the water garden.
Tranquillity; a word lost to the sudden bang of the cellar door against the kitchen wall, the young woman who threw it open storming through, haphazardly dressed and still slick with sweat.
“You’re a bloody animal!”
III follows, laughing, blood trailing down his bare chest from his sanguineus mouth. “Well, I ain’t vegetable or mineral, am I, babe?”
Her heels strike hard, furious steps across the floor, echoing away, the front door opening and slamming shut, III still tittering as II arches an eyebrow.
“What did you do this time?” he asks, the sigh that carries each word bearing with it the weight of a question asked a thousand times before.
III beams, kicking out a chair from the table and throwing himself down, resting his military-booted feet up on the top. “Nothing she didn’t ask for.”
He’s eyed carefully over the pages of the Nietzche text. “But did she?”
“Of course!” he chirps. “She said she wanted me to break her back, so I did.” Shrugging, he’s still laughing to himself. “Gave her my blood to heal her instantly, her spine is fine now, so I don’t see the problem!”
“You not being able to decipher between literal and figurative seems to be the problem,” II assesses coolly, eyes snapping back to his book.
Ves places his tea down, moving to III and leaning to plant a kiss atop his head. “He knows the difference well. He’s just unruly, aren’t you, my little chaos goblin?”
The gangly, blonde vampire tilts his head back, beaming. “I’m still a baby for three hundred years! I’m allowed to be!”
His creator chuckles, moving back to lean against the counter, reaching for his mug of tea once more. “Indeed, you are. Perhaps heed a little caution with fucking your lovers so assiduously that you literally leave them broken though, hmm?”
He receives a little salute. “Alright. Maybe.”
Ves raises his eyebrows. “We don’t need any police knocking on our door, III. As much as your antics provide amusement, trust me, nobody will be laughing at you languishing in a silver-barred cell.”
“I would,” II chips in with, winking at the thunderous look he receives.
“So, were you out tonight?” III then asks, turning to Ves with curiosity twinkling the blue of his eyes, which have only just turned back to that normal shade from burning vermillion. It’s triggered within them, an emotional response that causes the irises of a vampire to bleed red. Usually when angered, hungry, aroused or at the very least, keenly interested in whatever it is they’re targeting.
“I was,” he confirms, III’s grin spreading.
“And was your hunt for a pretty little thing as successful as mine?”
“I’d hardly call her storming out mid-fuck successful,” II interjects with, III waving his arms around haphazardly in dismissal of that statement. The way he moves has always reminded his elder sibling somewhat of a spider, all rapid scuttling and long limbs that well mimic the tetrapod gait. Remarkable, really, when he only possesses two legs opposed to eight.
“I blew a load in all three holes before she buggered off,” he assures him. “I’d call that pretty successful.”
III. Such a charismatic vampire... He would argue that being abruptly uncouth is exactly where his charisma lies, though.
“It was not,” Ves confirms. That isn’t news to anyone. He’s always been fussy where women are concerned. “However, I did make contact. With her.”
The two vampires visibly straighten at that, II’s cool demeanour only flickering to mildly temperate, III, of course, immediately alert.
“You did?” He casts his eyes around, head virtually swivelling from side to side rapidly. “Then, where the fuck is she?”
Ahhh, the virtues he still does not quite understand. “Patience,” Ves advises sagely, sipping his tea. “We must be patient with her.”
“Fuck that,” the youngster snorts, tapping his boot off the tabletop. “We need her!”
“I am aware of the urgency,” he speaks, his voice measured and calm, “but we have to tread carefully, lest our previous patterns befall us once more.”
III throws himself from the chair, moving to a cupboard to pull out a huge bag of chilli flavoured crisps. He’s the only one out of the four who still hoovers up food like it’s going out of fashion, and spicy is his preferred flavour profile. “You forget what you are half the fucking time, you know!” Yanking the bag open, he takes a handful out, shoving them into his mouth. “All this dancing around it! You can just fucking tell her what’s gonna happen and be done with it, but no! You’re all about the bloody pleasantries and diplomacy!”
Ves’s forehead creases with the depth of his frown. “That’s a rather apathetic comment, coming from the most human friendly of my offspring.”
III shrugs nonchalantly. “Needs must and all that. Not like we have to harm her, just go get her and tell her what’s what, y’know?”
“I am an advocate of fairness,” he smoothly counters with, “not telling her what is what, as you put it. This is something that cannot be forced, and we cannot risk losing her, not now time is ticking on so swiftly.”
A spray of chewed potato crumbs tumbles to the kitchen floor. “And where has that geniality gotten us over the last... well, two hundred years I’ve been with you for, and the few fucking thousand before me, hmm?”
“Watch your fucking tone,” II warns him, his voice deepening, unimpressed by his lack of respect. “We might be democratic in this family, but he’s still the one who made you. Show some veneration.”
“Oooh, four syllables. Fancy,” he sneers, II out of his seat in less than a second, III grabbed by the back of his head and forced down to the kitchen table.
“I also have a fucking thousand years on you, boy. A thousand years of brainpower, strength and tenacity, all of which are needed to ensure our goal is successful this time. Now, remember your respect, and wind in your ceaselessly irritating penchant for being a gobby little twat, or I’ll fucking gut you.”
Who he was in life has never left him, Ves notes as he observes the scene.
III rips himself free of the clasp when it slackens, standing, laughing while running long, nimble fingers through his hair with a wink. “I like it when you’re rough with me,” he purrs, II growling low in his throat, his creator’s hand pressing to his shoulder.
“Leave it.”
“But he’s...”
The hand clenches, the clasp saying much more than the repetition of his words. “I said leave it.”
A hush settles in the kitchen, tension hanging thick as stale smoke. Ves sips his tea with measured calm, his eyes catching the glint of mischief still glowing in III’s eyes.
“Go out,” he advises, feeling the agitation still radiating from his eldest offspring. “A little distance is required, I feel.”
The younger of the vampires rolls his eyes, moving at speed to go and wash the blood from his chest, cover his skin in black paint and pull on a t shirt and mask, the sound of the front door closing behind him echoing through the house after a few seconds. The hostility still vibrates within the air, II staring at the space he previously occupied, his jaw set like chipped stone.
“I love him, I do,” he begins, teeth grinding, “but when he’s reckless like this...”
Ves lifts his chin, his head tilting slightly. “You were much the same in your infancy. I think you have a tendency to forget that at times.”
“I don’t,” he snorts, eyeing him from under a furrowed brow. “You favour him, and you know you do.”
“I show him leniency because of his age, just the same as I do with IV. And did with you, but again, you choose to forget this.” II opens his mouth to plead his case further, but finds his words halted before they’ve even been spoke. “No. No more. I’m tired of it. You know better, he doesn’t.”
His word, as ever, is final. After all, a vampire can only ever push back so far against their creator. II realises that better than most, and unlike III, remembers his respect.
“Ves, I apologise,” he begins, picking up his book only to place it down again. “It’s a tense time for us all. This could be it, the end of us living as fucking outcasts. The very thought of it being jeopardised is pushing my temper, but you are correct. I should know better.”
The elder vampire merely nods in acknowledgement, moving from the space within a blink, the remains of his tea still gently steaming within the cup. His form comes to a stop outside, the quiet of the night air peaceful, soothing, exactly what he needs.
The stillness is punctuated only by the distant hooting of owls, the fellow creatures of the night oblivious to the struggles of the apex predator perched atop the crumbling wall. If he didn’t consciously filter it out, though, his ancient ears would pick up on the most minute of sounds. He allows it only for a second, and it fills his head like a cacophony of nature, the scuttling eight legs of arachnids, the heartbeat of mice.
Finding his stillness, his eyes drift upward to the moon, the waxing gibbous prompting the usual centuries-old ache within his chest. He wonders, briefly, whether fate will ever grant them the peace they crave, the respite from stigma, or if their endless blight will continue to serve as their perpetual penance.
Only the omega will answer that question.
A restlessness creeps over him again, the midnight hour leaving him listless, uncomfortable, needing a distraction and cessation to his churning mind. Back into the house he goes once more, painting up, robe and mask adorned, leaving the house in rapid flight to once again search the night for a warm body to lose himself to for a few hours.
He’d rather stay at home, but needs, as the old saying goes, must.
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