ANAKIN SKYWALKER loves mating press. to an uncomfortable degree, you’ll be forced into an impossible version of the position. you may not be inherently flexible, but anakin will “prove” to you that you are. ankles up to your ears, your little ass will be presented to him so he can watch himself sink in. he’ll see the pool of your tummy between your thighs, the bulge that protrudes every time that horse cock bottoms out, he’ll lick his bottom lip at the sight of that thick ring of cream in his brass pubes. he’ll laugh to himself, like his evil plan is working, when you keen and cry that he’s so deep you can feel him poke your lungs. god, he loves sex. he loves the way you feel wrapped around him, he’d live here if he could. sweetly, he leans down, causing a sting in your hamstrings because of the way they stretch as his weight pressures them even further down. he puckers, and kisses your whimpering lips, unable to form into a peck back as you sniffle. his tongue massages your unyielding mouth, and chuckles when you whine. “just a little longer, my love. you can handle it.”
۶ৎ scott miller masterlist ۶ৎ david corenswet masterlist
It was supposed to be simple, heat, adrenaline, two people chasing their highs while the sky tore itself apart. Scott told himself it’s just stress, just the proximity, maybe even slight desperation, tho to admit that to himself, even in his head, is a too big of a stretch.
He’s careful. Always is. A full box of condom somewhere in the van, either in the glove box or in the trunk. Sometimes there is two, if the second one is almost empty.
He pulls back when he should, grits his teeth when his instincts push too far. But then there he is, with you.
Both of you are like some animals, the moment you see each other, you are already think about the place where you are going to fuck. And when you do, it’s like rush hour, clothes off, words not present. Protection? Who’s thinking of it, neither of you.
“Fuck, it’s tight.” The mutter breaks into your ear, alerting you as a warning. He’s about to come, you know, because he has come like so many times, without a warning. Scott tries to stop himself, tries to keep control—but control has never stood a chance against want.
“Ahh, Scott!” You try to poke him out of the lustful trance, pulling his hair, his head lowering back.
Now he isn’t fully oblivious to what you want. To stop him. He knows, he should stop. But does he listen, does he flash back to sense and practice moral?
Scott’s selfish, he knows it. A part of him is going to feel guilty about it, maybe three nights from now, maybe it will take another week.
Right now, however, he just wants his cock to erupt into your pussy, seeing his semen pool around your cunt. Because, Scott Miller, the big asshole of Storm Par, is attached to you. You two have fucked too many times, too intimately. He has to see it happen, even if it isn’t the first time and definitely won’t be the last.
When his cum burst into you, a drowning moan pulses through your throat, the warmth hugging you whole. You fix a glare up at him, and as Scott catches his breath, staring at the white liquid between you, he raises his head, a practiced apologetic smile on his face.
“Sorry baby, got lost in the moment.” Of course, sure he did. By now, you are starting to catch up with his act. It has happened to many times for it to be accidental.
He realises that you won’t buy his words so easily. He eases his facial expression, sighing as he traces his eyes down your body and then face, noticing the droplet of sweat heading for your squinted eyebrow.
“How can you blame me, looking how sexy you are.” He presses a kiss to your lips, holding it longer when you don’t return it immediately. “So damn beautiful. A man is hard to control when he’s smitten.” He winks at you, confusing you completely. You brush it off, as you do every time, and as you will again when he “can’t control himself.“
Okay so. I saw Avatar FAA on the 20th and I have spent that last five days in a lust induced haze for Quaritch. I'm afraid I must write for him. If you have any ideas hit me up, I have some as well, I am feeling inspired and undeniably horny.
Warnings: fem!reader, Reader is presented as a Crow but is not biologically related, Jan is a romantic (this is my writing here we’re talking about), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT: SMUT (sex in front of a parental figure as revenge, p in v, missionary, doggy, oral fem!receiving, not choking but his hand is there, manipulation during the act?, mention of breeding kink, getting off to the sound of screams) kidnapping, parental abuse, canon levels of misogyny (with perhaps an extra dash for effect), older men leering at a younger woman, crude allusions to rape, physical injuries with blood, bruising, use of the word “cunt”, swearing, mentions of murder, murder of a parent, self harm, suicidal ideation/actions (not reader), let’s play a game of spot the reference, gory details, blood drinking from Jan and reader, Google Translate Latin.
Author’s Note: NO MINORS 18+ ONLY. This is far more crude than anything I have ever written. I hope I did my hatred for Jack Crow justice. While this work is crude and has some Dead Dove parts, it has quite possibly the most romantic things I’ve ever written in there, too.
Word Count: 8,411
From birth to seven years, you were raised in a small town in the middle of nowhere, Kansas. Your mother did so by herself. Every goodnight story, every shed tear, and every birthday. Until he showed up. The second he did, your life changed for the worse.
He showed up late at night on your seventh birthday. You couldn’t remember much of your life before him, but you remembered an older woman holding you close. She kissed your cheek and adjusted your mushroom party hat. Your bright eyes looked at her with wonder. Your mother. The fairie wings on your back were scratchy, covered in white iridescent glitter.
You went to bed happy, stomach full of cake and ice cream, your window slightly ajar. That’s when he came. A shadow in the dark. His smoke-scented hand covered your mouth before you could scream in horror.
He was a horrible father. All he cared about was training, he made the unsafe world even more hazardous with his own hands. He used you to his own benefit. To him, you were nothing more than bait he could manipulate.
Not his own flesh and blood, but something he was willing to lose. Though now you suppose that made sense, because you weren’t his flesh. You weren’t his blood. Just another child taught to hunt those hiding in the dark. Like now.
You stepped up onto the creaky wooden porch, looking back at the group of men behind you. Your father, Jack Crow, stood there with a crossbow, ready to shoot and kill vampires. All you could do as you turned the knob was hope, pray even, that there were no vampires here. Not only because they frightened you, with their long, sharp fangs and bodies practically undamaged, even by bullets, but also because you knew that what happened to them likely wasn’t their choice. They were victims, like you.
You took a deep breath, twisting the old metal doorknob only for it to stop in its tracks. Locked. You could almost breathe a sigh of relief, even if you knew that a locked door would never stop Jack Crow. You took a shaky breath, turning around.
“What’s the hold-up?” Jack called from the little overgrown sidewalk in front of the house.
“It’s locked.” You looked slightly down at the brown-gray porch, wringing your fingers together in anxiety.
Jack slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, “Did you turn the knob the right way? You used to have trouble with that as a kid.”
All his friends snickered behind him; you could feel their gaze on you, even as you stood in the shadows. You walked down the stairs before they walked up, but Jack grabbed your arm as you passed, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To the back, the door is locked, I can’t do anything…”
“You’re the bait, you go in first.” He held your arm tightly, leaving bruises from his fingers in his wake.
“You’re hurting me,” you squeaked, trying to pull your arm away, but like a blood pressure cuff, his hand got tighter and tighter until it felt like your arm would fall off.
“Do you think a vampire will care that you’re in pain? Tell a vampire that you’re in pain and he will bend you the fuck over and show you what pain is.”
Your breathing quickened, tears pricking your eyes, heart racing in your chest. You couldn’t hear any of the crude things being said about you by Jack’s friends, it felt like your head was underwater. Jack dragged you up the stairs, pulling you along the wooden floor that gave you splinters, until he threw you at the foot of the door. He knelt beside you, crossbow still in hand.
“If you keep crying, I will give you something to cry about. Vampire Hunters don’t cry, even pathetic ones like you.”
“I am not pathetic!” You said, not even thinking. As soon as the words left your mouth, your bravery left too.
It was harsh and sudden. The back of his hand meeting the side of your face, his ring cutting your lip. Blood dripped down your chin slowly. Your head whipped to the side with the force of it, you looked up at him with betrayal.
“Go get that cleaned up, you’ll get us all killed with that blood.”
You sniffled, pulling the top of your white tank top up, covering your breasts further. You heard one of the men groan as you wiped your lip, carefully patting the cut. Jack grabbed your arm again, pulling you closer. He pulled a dirty rag out of his back pocket and wiped at your lips roughly. You hissed at the pain, feeling the cut tear open further at his rough treatment.
“I know you have a cunt, but that doesn’t mean you have to be one.” Montoya laughed, elbowing one of the men standing beside him. You took an inaudible deep breath. You would get him back for that one.
One of the men cut a hole in the door. Montoya smiled in a way that made you sick, “You’re up, sweetheart.”
Just the way he said one simple, affectionate, adoring word made you want to puke over the run-down railing and into the grass. With him, that word would never be said in an adoring way, only to make your stomach churn. You were nothing but a piece of tail to him.
You were nothing to anyone.
That's why they were so eager to use you as bait. You had survived it your entire life, but you still never meant anything to any single one of them. They were your entire world, your family, but you were nothing more than trash.
You knew, right as you stuck your hand through that hole in the door, that you would get them all killed if need be. You would run, you would fight, you would hide—anything it took to get away from them.
~~~~~
That night at the Sun God Motel, you met the solution to your problem. He was the pale white horse of death, and everything you could ever dream of. He strolled up while you were outside, the after-party raging on in the motel room. Sex workers were everywhere inside the room, topless, as the men paid them for their time. It hadn’t been the first time tonight you had been asked to strip; it hadn’t even been the 5th, but you lost count after that. These men were disgusting, so when he showed up, his head tilted curiously at you as you smiled and took a long sip of your beer.
Disgusting. You preferred whiskey, but they never believed you.
He moved to say something or attack, but you nodded to the left, “They're in there. Have at it.”
He tilted his head at you, curious. His icy green eyes shone in the dim yellow light, a halo of red neon light around him. He was holy. Divine. He was as beautiful as Lucifer, and you were more than willing to sin for him. Throw away your life and your family. You wanted to be like him. You wanted your eyes to be that same frosty green shade, your skin to be of death, you wanted to be divine like him.
He smirked, no fangs in sight. His voice was slightly deep and raspy, as if he were thirsty. “Care for a drink?”
You could feel your eyes dilate, arousal shooting through you at the sound of his voice. So rich and elegant, truly a product of his time. Whenever that was. You nodded, backing up a little, opening the motel door next to the party. He followed, his footsteps silent for such a large man. He had clearly learned to walk without making a sound.
You kept your eyes on him the whole time. He smiled softly, clearly having noticed your eyes never leaving him. Maybe it was the years of training, the brainwashing, he thought. Clearly not an innate distrust of vampires. If it had been, he wouldn’t have been invited into this motel room with you. Alone. If you had distrusted, hated vampires as much as your supposed father, he would have never smelled your intoxicating arousal at his mere presence.
You sat on the edge of the bed, your mid-length skirt riding up your thighs. Strangely, it reminded Jan of who he used to be, a priest. You crossed your legs, leaning back onto your arms, your back arching slightly, and your breasts pushed forward. Entirely unholy thoughts for such a holy man.
But that was who he used to be. Now he was king. He was no longer a member of the clergy, nor was he celibate. He was The King of The Damned. Soon, you would have things you used to be too. You would be able to say that you used to be scared. You used to be abused. You used to be nothing to anyone. But then you would be able to say that you were a vampire. You could kill all the people who made you feel weak. Who made you feel like nothing.
He moved closer, his long coat swaying behind him. His full black attire complemented his tall, pale form. While his black clothes hid him from view, he was clearly strong, built, just from the sheer size of him. You knew it wasn’t true, but for a moment, you wondered if being a vampire made you as beautiful as a statue. His long black hair tousled to perfection, curling perfectly, almost gently along his shoulders and the nape of his neck. If he stood still, you would have mistaken him for a painted statue of an old god. One whose name had long since been forgotten. You didn’t want his name to be forgotten, and so, in a moment of what must have been stupidity, you asked.
“Do creatures like me have names anymore?” He asked, his large hands clasped together in front of his pelvis.
“Of course, every creature has a name. Even creatures as dreadful as-”
“Vampires?” He finished.
“Humans,” you responded.
His icy eyes looked down at you curiously, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he had heard. In his experience, Humans were arrogant. The worst species of them all. They killed just to kill. Not for survival, they hardly ate what they had destroyed. They maimed, just for the fun of it, and they thought that this senseless violence made them the best, nearly indestructible. Their hearts were full of hate for anything different, including demons like him. Maybe he was a hypocrite, but the dead were far better than the living.
He chose not to mince his words as he spoke next, “You are a strange little being. A vampire hunter who does not hate, or hunt vampires.”
“I see vampires the same way I see myself when I look in the mirror.” You replied, the words coming out casually as if you weren’t challenging hundreds of years of lived experience.
“And how is that?” He tilted his head, his frosted eyes trained on you in that way that made your panties damp. He took a deep breath.
“As a survivor.” You said simply, your voice soft, melodic even. He stepped closer, his long, pointy nails brushing your jaw gently as he touched your face.
“You are a survivor indeed,” he paused, as if thinking through his words carefully, “I can offer you more than they can.”
“I know you can, I want it. I want to be like you.” You whispered, and he leaned down, face level with yours. He was only inches from your face, and god was he intoxicating. He smelled of petrichor and the forest. His eyes were even more beautiful up close. The patterns were a snowy labyrinth that you could get lost in. He brushed the backs of his fingers along your cheekbone, his head tilting in the way that a cat’s would.
“You will be my ultimate survivor. My beautiful weapon.” His voice was deep, his eyes entrancing. You nodded, barely moving. Your lips parted slightly, looking pillowy and soft. He leaned in slowly, his breath fanning across your face. His fingers played with the hair at the nape of your neck.
When his lips finally touched yours, it was like everything finally made sense. Everything clicked into place. His fingers tangled in that hair at the base of your skull, pulling you closer. He needed you as much as you needed him. You didn’t even recognize when your eyes closed. So lost in blind pleasure that the loss of one of your senses was inconsequential. When he pulled away, your lips chased his for a moment, and he chuckled lowly. Your eyes didn’t open for several moments. Still too lost in the feeling of his cool lips on yours that you didn’t even notice that you couldn’t see.
His breath was heavy as it fanned across your neck, and you tilted your head to the side, awaiting that deadly bite. But his cool lips touched your jugular softly. Your parted lips let a soft moan pass through them. You could feel him smirk against your neck, his cold lips brushing softly against your warm skin. Your cheeks heated, blood rushing through your veins to reach your face.
“You are beautiful, so warm,” he whispered, “You are the sunlight to my darkness, the day to my night. Perhaps I am Icarus. I fear my wax wings will melt in your warmth.”
He kissed down your neck, lips brushing your collarbones and the tops of your breasts as he moved his way down your body, “Every moment I touch you, I can feel the wax burning my skin.”
He reached your legs, kissing your calves and up your thighs, “I hurtle towards the ocean, in complete bliss for having been so close to you at all.”
He slid your leathery skirt up, his fingers gently grazed the fabric of your panties, a cute pink color that paired well with your delicate skin. His chilled lips on the warm skin of the inside of your thigh made you shiver. His blunt teeth grazed your skin, feeling almost as cold and harsh as stone.
His glossy green eyes flicked up to yours, a sharp look as his head tipped back slightly and his fangs grew out. He leaned down slowly, his fangs sinking into your soft skin. Your eyes closed, your stomach tightening at the pain.
It was over in a second. He bit you and then moved up your body, holding your jaw, “Doesn’t it feel beautiful? Something you’ll never forget. I know I won’t.”
“That’s it?” You asked weakly. Your eyes were soft and vulnerable.
“That’s it, my Sunlight. Now, you will be my Sunlight for all time.”
You took a moment to breathe, the pain throbbing in your thigh. Your sweet blood dyed his mouth red, his lips crimson on his pallid skin. You looked at him and you couldn’t find it within yourself to be horrified by the sight, by the pain.
He was beautiful, carved from stone. The veins that protruded from his hairline and encircled his face gave him a marble-like quality. His eye sockets were red and sunken, as if he were suffering from a bad sleep. But, to you?
To you, he was everything. He kissed along your cheeks, leaving trails of blood along your warmed flesh, painting your cheeks with a blush that was so natural it was unnatural. Then he stood, kissing the back of your hand and pulling your skirt down to hide your fresh bite.
“I will see you soon, my Sunlight. I will feel your warmth again.”
~~~~~
You jolted awake suddenly. Daylight was pouring through the truck windows. You felt the sting in your cheek before you registered anything else. A blonde woman leaned on your shoulder, semi-unconscious. Definitely out of it. You took your first deep, full chested breath in what felt like hours.
“Are you finally awake, Kid?” Jack asked. You nodded, still a little out of it. Your whole experience with that vampire felt more like a dream than a reality. You had let him bite you, and you had never gotten his name. If it hadn’t been for the subtle, pulsating pain in your thigh, you would have thought it was an alcohol-induced wet dream. About a romance so forbidden it would rival Romeo and Juliet. You lost all track of thought when you thought of him.
He had infected you with more than vampirism. He had infected you with hope.
Hope that your life could be more than this. You wanted beautiful red and purple veins that resembled marble to mar your skin, not the fading bruises along your cheekbones and jaw. You wanted your eyes to be that unnatural icy green that belonged only to vampires. But, more than anything, you wanted to rip out Jack Crow’s throat with your teeth. You didn’t want to feed from him.
He, like all true monsters, would be killed without remorse or guilt. Slaughtered mercilessly like he had done to so many vampires.
“Are you fucking listening to me, Kid?” He snapped, his hand coming up to bat harshly at your face again. You nodded, but he hit you again.
“Fucking listen this time, or I’ll kill you, just like I killed your whore mother.”
Your blood runs cold, a sick feeling rising in your chest, “What?”
“That bitch got herself turned into a vampire while looking for you, fucking idiot. So, I killed her.”
You felt rage, pure and utter rage, boil up inside you, you shook as if you had downed 4 shots of espresso. Your hands wrung together in your lap, nails biting into your skin so hard that droplets of blood started to pool in the indents and stain your nails. Somewhere in your heart, you knew if your new vampire lover knew about the blood seeping from your palms, caused by your hand, he would take your hand in his. Gently licking the droplets from your perfect skin, and reminding you that not even you may hurt yourself under his watchful eye. The thought of him, his frosted green eyes, made your pulse race a little slower, your fists unclench from their painful position. The dark red blood smeared against your palm as your fingers pulled away, making them shiny and red as your fingernails became rust colored.
You could almost hear his voice in your head as his face flashed against your brain, his skin a pale, snowy white, with crimson and violet veins decorating his face and around his sunken, iridescent irises. His perfect eyes were framed by long, thick black lashes. His imaginary gaze was so piercing that it would have made you compliant within seconds. He whispered to you in an unheard voice, his lips moving with no sound escaping. But, somehow, you understood the message all the same.
It would only be a matter of time until you were together again.
Until his plush, pillowy lips met yours with such heated ferocity that your mind could shatter at the very possibility of more. To feel his cold fingertips against your warm skin again would be like rainfall in the desert to someone who had been stranded for days, suffering from mirages of large waterfalls and lakes. Like a salve to a burn that makes the stinging skin quiet. The minute your flesh would meet his, everything would make sense. Everything would be complete.
~~~~~
It had been around 48 hours since you had met your vampire lover. You still struggled, grappled with the idea that you had never known his name. The way things were going, it felt like you never would.
Jack was still gone, leaving you, Montoya, and a blonde woman named Katrina alone in a hotel room. It was here that you witnessed Montoya’s sheer brutality. Katrina was innocent, and yet here she was, naked and petrified.
“You could at least untie her,” you spoke, your jaw hard set and voice tense. Montoya groaned from the couch, half drunk and asleep.
“What?”
“You could at least untie her,” you repeated. His eyes grew cold, looking up at you with disdain.
“She’s going to turn into one of those bloodsucking fucks.” He said, as if you were stupid. All slow and condescending.
“But she hasn’t turned yet, so the least you could do is treat her as she is. Human.” He grumbled as he sat up, a half-full beer can falling from his hand and spilling onto the matted hotel carpet. Slowly, he stumbled his way over to Katrina, untying her wrists and ankles from the bedframe. Katrina curled in on herself immediately, pulling the white fluffy comforter up to cover her body from his view. She gulped, almost imperceptibly, looking at you with thankful eyes. Montoya fell back into the shitty hotel couch, falling asleep immediately, his face smashed against a rough pillow.
Katrina relaxed as soon as he was asleep, snoring loudly from the other side of the room.
“Thank you,” she muttered, her voice and face thankful.
“You never deserved to be treated that way. It was cruel, but I can’t say that I expected better from him. It will only get worse when Jack arrives. They will use you, just as they have used me.”
“So, what do I do?” She asked softly, her eyebrows raising as tears blurred her vision.
“We leave.”
“We?”
“Yes. We both need to escape. You for your life, and me for mine. After we escape, we can go our separate ways.” Your voice was hushed, an almost inaudible whisper, but her ears, growing more sensitive by the hour, heard you.
“I need to find the one who did this to me. The man who bit me.”
Your head tilted, “Was he tall? Over six feet?”
She nodded, her blonde curly hair bouncing with the movement.
“Then it seems we both need to find the same man.” You whispered, looking into her crystal blue eyes.
“Why would you need to find him? Are you planning on killing him? All by yourself?”
Your hand reached out towards hers, your skin the same temperature, even though you had both grown colder, “No…He bit me, too.”
~~~~~
From then on, everything was a silent exchange, communicating only through looks and glances. She would distract him while you slipped out the door, unnoticed. You would wait to see her before leaving. She would climb out of the bathroom window and onto the thick ledge. She didn’t want to be a vampire, you had learned. So, instead of coming to meet you, she would jump, hopefully passing before the transformation was complete and she became near indestructible.
You would run, following your growing visions until you found him again. Everything was understood without speaking a word.
“I would like to put some clothes on.” She said suddenly, Montoya looked over at her from the box TV in the room. He shrugged, tossing her clothes at her from a pile next to the couch. Katrina wrapped the blanket around herself, scooping her clothes up with one arm as she stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She stepped softly across the tiles to the other side, where another door to the bathroom remained open. She tried to shut it before Montoya’s hand shot out.
“This stays open,” She looked at him with anger, and he softened his tone, “Just a little.”
With the door ajar, she changed into clothes before silently climbing out the window. You waited patiently, and after a little too long with a little too much silence, Montoya grew suspicious. He stood, his eyes narrowing, stepping closer to the bathroom. You stood from your spot on the bed, the mattress springs creaking, but he never looked back at you.
You leaned down, grabbing your shoes from next to the door, sliding the lock open. You timed it with him bursting into the bathroom, the lock click faint against his shout. The door opened the smallest amount you could while still being able to fit through.
Once the light from the hallway shone on your face, you breathed a heavy sigh of relief. You booked it down the stairs, not taking time to put your shoes on as you ran through the lobby and out onto the street. You ran for blocks, eyes scanning the pavement for anything sharp that would cut your unprotected feet.
You stopped, breathless, in front of a bronze statue outside the entrance of a vast green park. Your eyes scanned the outside of the large hotel for your new blonde friend. There she was, about to jump, when Montoya grabbed her.
She flung herself forward in an attempt to get out of his grasp, dragging him out of the window and onto the ledge. He picked her up and fell backwards through the window. Your face drained of all warmth, your blood turning icy cold.
You looked up at the building with horror. Soon, Montoya would realize that you had fled.
A cold hand fell to your shoulder. Your skin tingled under the cold palm, the sharp fingers gently caressing your flesh. Without looking up, you knew it was him.
“Sunlight,” his voice was deep, raspy, calming. Like the harsh waves of the ocean hitting the rock face. His fingers caressed your soft skin, his long nails a sharp and deadly weapon, touching you so gently it was hard to believe that he could shove his hand straight through a man’s chest and out the other side. His fingers were forever stained scarlet. A permanent reminder of the beast, the monster that this lover was supposed to be. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you envisioned his lips stained with your blood, you could not believe him to be anything less than perfect.
Perhaps you were the one they called Icarus after all.
You looked up at him, wide-eyed, adoring. Your plush lips opened, eyes darting back and forth between his pastel green eyes.
Without even thinking, you whispered, “I love you.”
He smiled, looking down at you thoughtfully, “My Sunlight, you are already so sure?”
You nodded, trying to reach his lips whilst standing on your tiptoes, but you were still miles away. The backs of his long, slim fingers brushed against your cheek in that same reverent way. As if nothing was more precious to him than you. With your soft skin, wide, shimmering eyes, and a willingness to fall into his darkness that he found to be miraculous.
He had been there as Shakespeare had written Romeo and Juliet at his behest, but he never thought that it could be true. Falling in love so quickly, so easily, that it was easier than breathing. If he still believed in a god, he would pray. Pray that your ending would be different. That the two of you were not doomed as they were, as Icarus was. Love was for children, he had thought, for imbeciles who had not experienced the world as he had.
Who had not seen the violence and war, all fought in the name of something as idiotic as love. But now… now he understood. He, too, would drink that smooth, sweet poison if there was even a thought that he would never see you again. And as he looked into your eyes, he knew you would just as easily throw yourself upon his dagger to join him in eternal bliss.
You heard a shout from the hotel’s direction, whipping around, you saw Montoya leaning out the window, shouting at you. For the first time, you didn’t feel fear as you looked up at him. You were nothing to him, and so, you granted him the same sentiment. You gently took hold of the tall vampire’s sleek hand and walked off into the dark park where you would not be seen.
~~~~~
The next day and a half passed in a blur. You grew weaker, sicker. You could not eat or drink and slept away 23 hours of the day. Only waking at dusk to see him. He would pet you softly through the night while plotting. Leaving you with trusted masters when events came that could not be dealt with by anyone else. You would stir, wake for only a few minutes at a time, and fall back asleep. Safe and loved.
In the times you would rise, you would ask questions. Your first being his name.
“I have not needed a name in a very long time,” he whispered, the stars shining bright from your view in the grass. He smiled softly, no fangs in sight. He looked more human in the starlight.
“I was named after my father. He died when I was a boy. As did my mother.”
You gently pressed your hand to his, looking at him with remorse, “I am sorry for your loss.”
He smiled softly, believing you, “It was almost seven hundred years ago.”
“That does not mean it cannot still hurt. What they say is a lie. Time does not heal all wounds. It only makes them more bearable. New wounds come, crossing over the old ones, making them deeper and more painful. It is only when you meet someone with a salve that they can start to heal over. You just have to hope that those wounds don’t get infected before you meet them.”
“Jan,” he whispered into your hair, kissing your forehead softly, “Everyone else calls me Valek. But, you get to call me Jan.”
It wasn’t long after he spoke these sweet words that you fell asleep in his arms. He looked at you until dawn started to break, and he carried you back inside, placing you on an old mattress. And then he buried himself in the front yard.
~~~~~
On that final day, you could hardly move. You never knew dying would be so exhausting. So…painful. Your head throbbed like when you got that concussion from being thrown into that vampire.
It wasn’t until you met Jan that you realized how dire your situation had been. You and Jan had had similar childhoods. Your lives revolved around the Catholic church. He had been raised by the clergy after his mother and father died in the great famine. After Jack kidnapped you, he raised you the way he had been raised, with Catholicism as a lifeblood.
He would never tell you anything of your mother, the priests never told Jan of his parents either, other than that he had been named for his father. Jan found solace in you, as you found solace in him.
In the night, even as you slept peacefully in his arms, he would divulge his darkest secrets and his greatest hopes. He told you of how he wanted to walk in the sun again, just to feel the pleasant warmth on his face that could never be replicated by the moon. He hoped that you would understand.
When you woke, you were disoriented. In the dark, it was cold and damp. Your eyes adjusted to the light like an owl’s. You cracked your neck, stepping out of the run-down prison in one of Jan’s long black shirts and nothing else. The sharp stones dug into the soles of your feet, but you felt no pain, and when you looked at Jack, tied to the front of a truck, he looked up at you in horror.
It was only then that you realized that you had not taken a breath, that your skin was corpse-cold, and that you had more energy than you had had in days. You had completed your transformation…almost.
And there he sat, a picture-perfect meal. Your horrid father. You felt your mouth water as you watched blood drip down his face. Jan’s hand came to your shoulder, “Not him, my Sunlight. We need him still. I do believe, however, that there is still a priest kicking around here somewhere.”
That caught your attention. A delicious priest, your eyes flitted around, surveying every place that they may be hiding. Your wintery green eyes fell upon an old garage, you focused intently. Bah-boom, bah-boom, bah-boom. Your head crooked to the side, a wolfish grin spreading across your face as Jan rubbed your shoulder.
As you stepped foot into the garage, you realized that with your bare feet, you did not make a sound. You took your first breath in hours, it felt…strange. Unnatural. The little priest must have cut themselves, for you smelled the blood that seeped from their skin, coating the flesh in divine elixir.
Poor thing, handsome too, it was unfortunate that you’d have to kill him. You feigned that you hadn’t seen him, hadn’t smelled the gold dripping from his veins. You slammed the door, and after a minute or two of complete silence, his head peeked out from behind the counter. His eyes landed on your ghostly form, horror falling across his features. Your brand-new fangs poked the inside of your bottom lip. Your jaw parted, your tongue reaching out to feel the sharp points. He couldn’t even scream before you flung yourself over the counter.
Your fangs slid into his flesh with no effort, you were no longer a gazelle. You were a lioness, about to make your first kill. His blood poured from his artery into your waiting mouth, spilling all over you and him when you took a breath. With his blood, the aching in your skull faded away. Your joints became loose, and your mind sharpened as your canines had. The priest slumped to the floor, blood still gushing violently from his neck. The front of Jan’s black shirt was sticky and damp with his holy blood.
You had not been elegant with your new teeth. You had ripped his throat open as a true lioness would. You emerged from the garage a changed person. And Jan could feel it. His eyes filled with a light you hadn’t seen before at the sight of you. Blood coating your chest, chin, and splattered across your face. You shone with light that could only be defined as holy.
Maybe he did believe in a god after all, or rather, a goddess.
You were in bliss, strutting to Jan. He picked you up as you reached him, and the Cardinal laughed. Your pale, sage eyes shot daggers at the man. Jan shushed softly in your ear, a calming noise.
“We need him,” he soothed. His lithe fingers holding you by your thighs, legs wrapped around his waist.
“He makes a mockery of us,” you seethed, looking up into his eyes. Blood still dripped from your chin, but grew thicker as it lingered on your frigid skin. He shushed you again, tilting his head as if to look at you better.
You took a deep breath and looked for the scent of him. It had grown more intense with your increased senses. A calm settled over your skin. Then, as if he were determined to wreck your peace, Jack Crow scoffed. Your head whipped towards him, your mouth watered once more at the sight of his blood.
“You vile bitch,” he spat. Blood, dirt, and sweat dripped from his nose.
You said nothing in response, only looking at him coldly, his blood boiled under his skin, “What, you let that undead freak fuck you, turn you away from your family?”
A laugh bubbled its way out of your throat before you could stop it. You unwrapped your legs from Jan, falling gracefully from his grip and landing on the dirt.
“Family?” You asked, a wolfish grin spread across your pretty face, eyes as cold as the tundra. You stepped closer, Jan’s long shirt flowing gracefully around you, making you almost ethereal.
“I am no one’s family. You made sure of that.” You kneeled in the dirt in front of him, long nails pressing into his face as you grabbed his chin.
“You killed the only family I had,” you whispered, your breath smelling metallic, of the priest’s blood.
“What about me?” He asked, desperate. He knew he was going to die, that no one would save him.
“You are not my father. Not my real one, though I suppose you’ve done damage only a father could do.”
“I raised you! I fed you-”
“Sometimes.” You smiled sweetly, and he knew that nothing he could say would change what you were. Vampires were soulless. There was no reasoning with a vampire. You felt a surge of pride in you at his silence, at his defeat.
Jan’s hand fell to your shoulder, a soft, gentle touch that conveyed thousands of “I love you’s” without words. Your frozen eyes flicked to his hand, his willowy fingers stretching out before resting on your exposed stony flesh.
“Perhaps, Sunlight, you should do some damage to him that only a daughter could do.” Jan smiled, utter delight encroaching on his words. You stood slowly, all your attention on his hand resting on your shoulder. His glacial skin upon yours, you took comfort in the idea that you were the same temperature now.
You turned around in his arms. His lips fell to yours, and it was as if the entire world clicked into place. There were no fireworks or theatrics. Your heart was a simple burning fire that threatened to consume you from the inside out. He was slow, soft, his lips locking with yours. Fitting in place as if they were puzzle pieces. He had waited nearly seven hundred years to find you, the other half of his heart, the missing piece of his soul.
For a moment, he feared that he hadn’t made his feelings for you clear, that you believed your affection, your adoration, to be one-sided, but with this kiss, he knew. You knew he loved you with every fiber of his being. With every speck, every atom that made up his undead flesh.
He was Icarus, and you the sun, but his wax wings would not melt, for you were the same temperature as he was. He could reach you. He could escape his prison and fade away into the light.
Your fingers tangled in his long black hair, his large hands sliding from the base of your spine to your ass, pulling you in closer, needing you fervently. Jack groaned, reminding you he was there. A frown took hold of your plush lips, while a Cheshire grin took hold of his.
“You know, Sunlight, I think Mr. Crow is getting off a little too easily, being burned alive.” He purred in your ear, his voice was entrancing, his ideas flowed so easily into your mind, mixing with your own twisted fantasies. Your eyes lit up like embers, sparking to life. A flash of unadulterated joy, as your mind twisted and turned with everything you could do to make his torturous fate last.
One particularly sick thought entered your brain that would satisfy every desire. You could show him that now, in spite of his efforts, you were loved. The look on your face made Jack sick to his stomach. He had never seen someone’s face morph into such a shit-eating grin. A glint crossed your snowy pistachio eyes.
Slowly, you unbuttoned the bloody black shirt you wore as a dress. Right there, in front of everyone, and for once, you felt no shame. It was time to put on that show that all of Jack’s buddies had so desperately wanted.
Jan’s eyes were trained on your body, a hand reaching out to touch your waist as you shrugged off the sticky button-down.
Now, in this moment, he truly felt god for the first time. His fingers danced softly along your skin, tempted to touch and kiss every inch. He pressed his lips to your neck, your head tilting to the side to allow him more room. Your eyes closed in bliss, feeling his long fangs scrape against the newly toughened skin.
When his fangs sank in, you moaned, a different kind of pleasure wracking through your body like an orgasm. A sharp inhale, a soft groan, his hands sliding from your waist to your breasts. One large hand slid up to support your head, lithe fingers keeping you in place. Your vision blurred as another wave of pleasure washed over you.
“You’re fucking sick, you know that?” Jack shouted, feeling as if he was about to hurl.
Jan looked up from your neck, his fangs retracting, “Far less than you.”
Jack looked at you both with disgust and tried to spit at you, but the only blood that left his mouth was after your kick to the side of his face. In all the years Jack had trained you to be his perfect little soldier, he never expected that his own teachings would be turned back on him.
“Keep your fucking mouth shut,” you growled. When you saw defiance in his eyes, you kneeled in front of him, knees pressed into the hard rocks.
“Look at you,” you hissed, “how the mighty have fallen. From the moment I met you, I wanted you dead. I’m only sorry that it took so long. But I will enjoy your suffering, as you reveled in mine.”
“I’ll kill you, you sick freak.” His eyes were murderous, his voice sincere.
You leaned in close, grabbing his face roughly, your long, sharp, pointed nails threatening to dig into his skin and make him like you. A slow smile crept onto your face, your voice cold, “I wonder who made me this way.”
Your head tilted, as if daring him to continue. You watched the blood drip down his face and into the gravel along with dirt and sweat. Jan ran his long fingers along the line of your spine, the slow, careful touch making you shiver. The backs of his fingers touched the back of your neck before he grabbed it, as if warning you beforehand.
“For so long, you thought you owned her, Jack. You treated her worse than a dog, and yet you wonder why she strayed. Why she attacks. You are an arrogant man, one who cannot see that he has any flaws at all. She is no longer yours, Jack. She is mine.”
You stood slowly as he guided you up. He kissed you hard, forcing the air from your lungs before he slid to his knees.
“I have watched humans devolve for over six hundred years. They have forgotten how to worship, and how it feels to be touched by a god.”
Jan’s head was tilted up, looking only at you, “Perhaps I will show you.”
His pale, blood-stained lips spelled devotion on your hips, his large hands wrapped around your thighs to pull you closer. He kissed a scar on the inside of your thigh, a glossy, almost opalescent thing where his teeth had touched you for the first time.
Your fingers tangled in his long black hair, your head tilting back as he kissed along the flesh gently. A sound passed your lips that mirrored your gasp of pain when he had bitten you those few days ago. Only this time, it was pure bliss. There was something addictive in his saliva, you were sure. Some kind of drug that drew you to him in a way you couldn’t control. Something that made you lose your breath when you looked down at him, eyes full of pure adoration. His eyes were similar to yours. For a moment, you wondered if you, too, looked so divine as he did. His lips marked your skin with passion you had only seen in movies. You untangled your fingers from his long, inky hair, gently cupping his cheek.
“Deus meus es tu, divinus es.” He whispered against your palm, his labyrinthic eyes trained on you in complete and utter worship, like how an art-loving tourist may look at the Venus de Milo. If his eyes were to be believed, you were walking perfection. A goddess of beauty, love, and pleasure.
You supposed, even though you did not understand him, that that was precisely what he was saying. His lashes were long and full, his red eyes heavy. The way his shoulders, which were usually so square, slumped told you everything. You were his, and he was yours. Utterly and completely. His eyes glinted with silvery mischief before he licked the inside of your thigh, along that sensitive opal scar. He licked through your folds, gathering the sweet nectar and letting it make a home on his tongue.
He worshiped truly for the first time since the exorcism. His long, sharp nails dug into your marbled flesh. His tongue sliding lewdly across your clit, as if you were a water source in the desert. Your moans filled the courtyard, thick lashes fluttering in ecstasy. You learned back, falling onto the car that Jack was tied to the front of. You slid until you were in the dirt next to him, pure orgasmic relief washing over you in no time at all.
He was perfect, you were perfect. He crawled up your body like he did the first night you met and kissed you, mouth full of your slick. You tasted yourself on his tongue, and your legs spread out wide to make room for him. Jack made a disgusted noise, being forced to be present as two vampires made love.
Jan let out a deep moan like rumble as he unbuttoned his pants, letting his hard cock spring out. He leaned back and took in the sight before him, the unbelievable beauty of his goddess. His hands caressed the sides of your body, taking in every millimeter of skin. It didn’t take long for him to push in, spurred on by the sight of your love-drunk eyes and bloody body. Your eyes rolled back in your undead skull and Jack wretched at the sight, turning away.
Jan paused, his eyes creased in anger and he grabbed Jack's face harshly, “Watch! You are lucky, mortal. Lucky to see gods as they worship each other's flesh.”
Jack's face contorted in a snear, “You are sick, you dead fuck!”
Jan's pale lips pulled into a smirk as he pushed the rest of the way into you, his clawed hand still holding Jack's face, “You will watch, Jack Crow. You will watch as I worship a goddess so divine that even speaking her name would rot your flesh and tear your soul.”
Jan’s hand fell from Jack’s face, and came around your throat.Slowly, he began to rock, his strong, sturdy legs supporting his weight, his other hand tight on your hip, “Si Deus est, tu es ille. Vel ab eo missus.”
You giggle, your hips pushing up into his without thinking. Trying desperately to take more. To have him closer. Closer than flesh could be. Jan ran his fingers gently along the column of your neck.
“You are everything that could, and would ever be holy,” Jan moaned into your hair, “I am the only one who can see how divine you truly are.”
“You’re the only one…”Your voice came out lilted, as if in song.
“We are gods, my Sunlight. We will instill a glorious reign that will last as long as you shall live. As soon as I can walk in the light, the world you know will belong to us, and we may do as we wish, whenever we wish.”
“Promise?” You asked as he gave a particularly hard thrust, sending your voice into a blissed yelp.
“I promise.”
As he said this simple little phrase, his eyes rose to Jack, being forced to watch by another vampire. Jan pulled away from your body and you let out a distressed whine, “Turn over, Sunlight. He needs to see your face.”
You turned in the dirt, matting the drying blood with small rocks and debris. As soon as you were on your belly, he reached his hand around to rest on your throat once more and pulled your head back as he pushed his hard cock back in. This time he was much rougher, more calculating with his movements. You gave rewarding whines and whimpers, loud moans of praise.
He wanted to make Jack suffer.
And suffer he did. He watched your face contort in pure pleasure with abject horror. What a pure thing, lust, love, domination. The look of terror and revulsion that marred Jack’s features could almost make Jan fill you with his cum. You tensed around him, pushing your ass back against him with desperation. You needed him. You needed more of the way he felt inside you.
Finally, you were on your knees for a reason that made sense, finally the pressure marks would be worth it. Finally you had a god worth loving.
You let out a primal moan, your pallid green eyes rolling back as you shook. Fangs extended, looking just like the animal you were. Jan’s hand released your throat, and your head slumped forward against the dirt. He pulled your ass up until your cheek was in the dirt and he moved with the ferocity and power of a lion, mating you, breeding you, making you well and truly his for the rest of time. Eternal.
You were blissed out in the dirt as Jan and the Cardinal burned Jack alive, you listened to his horrid, terrible screams with a great pleasure, even touching yourself to the sound of them. Long clawed fingers swirling around your clit, coating it in Jan’s cum.
When it was all over, and dawn was breaking, Jan held you tight as the sun came up. You had seen millions of sunrises, and this one was nothing special. A boring blending, swirling painting of pale blue and a vibrant orange.
You looked back at Jan, his head over your shoulder, bloody tear tracks running down his perfectly chiseled face. Your head tilted slightly, taking in the sight. He was far more beautiful than any sunrise.
“I haven’t seen the sun in more than 600 years,” his head shook slightly, a tiny movement that made your brows furrow, and bloody tears prick your eyes, “And yet…”
“What is it?” Your voice was soft, near angelically so.
Warnings: fem!reader, Reader is presented as a Crow but is not biologically related, Jan is a romantic (this is my writing here we’re talking about), DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT: SMUT (sex in front of a parental figure as revenge, p in v, missionary, doggy, oral fem!receiving, not choking but his hand is there, manipulation during the act?, mention of breeding kink, getting off to the sound of screams) kidnapping, parental abuse, canon levels of misogyny (with perhaps an extra dash for effect), older men leering at a younger woman, crude allusions to rape, physical injuries with blood, bruising, use of the word “cunt”, swearing, mentions of murder, murder of a parent, self harm, suicidal ideation/actions (not reader), let’s play a game of spot the reference, gory details, blood drinking from Jan and reader, Google Translate Latin.
Author’s Note: NO MINORS 18+ ONLY. This is far more crude than anything I have ever written. I hope I did my hatred for Jack Crow justice. While this work is crude and has some Dead Dove parts, it has quite possibly the most romantic things I’ve ever written in there, too.
Word Count: 8,411
From birth to seven years, you were raised in a small town in the middle of nowhere, Kansas. Your mother did so by herself. Every goodnight story, every shed tear, and every birthday. Until he showed up. The second he did, your life changed for the worse.
He showed up late at night on your seventh birthday. You couldn’t remember much of your life before him, but you remembered an older woman holding you close. She kissed your cheek and adjusted your mushroom party hat. Your bright eyes looked at her with wonder. Your mother. The fairie wings on your back were scratchy, covered in white iridescent glitter.
You went to bed happy, stomach full of cake and ice cream, your window slightly ajar. That’s when he came. A shadow in the dark. His smoke-scented hand covered your mouth before you could scream in horror.
He was a horrible father. All he cared about was training, he made the unsafe world even more hazardous with his own hands. He used you to his own benefit. To him, you were nothing more than bait he could manipulate.
Not his own flesh and blood, but something he was willing to lose. Though now you suppose that made sense, because you weren’t his flesh. You weren’t his blood. Just another child taught to hunt those hiding in the dark. Like now.
You stepped up onto the creaky wooden porch, looking back at the group of men behind you. Your father, Jack Crow, stood there with a crossbow, ready to shoot and kill vampires. All you could do as you turned the knob was hope, pray even, that there were no vampires here. Not only because they frightened you, with their long, sharp fangs and bodies practically undamaged, even by bullets, but also because you knew that what happened to them likely wasn’t their choice. They were victims, like you.
You took a deep breath, twisting the old metal doorknob only for it to stop in its tracks. Locked. You could almost breathe a sigh of relief, even if you knew that a locked door would never stop Jack Crow. You took a shaky breath, turning around.
“What’s the hold-up?” Jack called from the little overgrown sidewalk in front of the house.
“It’s locked.” You looked slightly down at the brown-gray porch, wringing your fingers together in anxiety.
Jack slid his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, “Did you turn the knob the right way? You used to have trouble with that as a kid.”
All his friends snickered behind him; you could feel their gaze on you, even as you stood in the shadows. You walked down the stairs before they walked up, but Jack grabbed your arm as you passed, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To the back, the door is locked, I can’t do anything…”
“You’re the bait, you go in first.” He held your arm tightly, leaving bruises from his fingers in his wake.
“You’re hurting me,” you squeaked, trying to pull your arm away, but like a blood pressure cuff, his hand got tighter and tighter until it felt like your arm would fall off.
“Do you think a vampire will care that you’re in pain? Tell a vampire that you’re in pain and he will bend you the fuck over and show you what pain is.”
Your breathing quickened, tears pricking your eyes, heart racing in your chest. You couldn’t hear any of the crude things being said about you by Jack’s friends, it felt like your head was underwater. Jack dragged you up the stairs, pulling you along the wooden floor that gave you splinters, until he threw you at the foot of the door. He knelt beside you, crossbow still in hand.
“If you keep crying, I will give you something to cry about. Vampire Hunters don’t cry, even pathetic ones like you.”
“I am not pathetic!” You said, not even thinking. As soon as the words left your mouth, your bravery left too.
It was harsh and sudden. The back of his hand meeting the side of your face, his ring cutting your lip. Blood dripped down your chin slowly. Your head whipped to the side with the force of it, you looked up at him with betrayal.
“Go get that cleaned up, you’ll get us all killed with that blood.”
You sniffled, pulling the top of your white tank top up, covering your breasts further. You heard one of the men groan as you wiped your lip, carefully patting the cut. Jack grabbed your arm again, pulling you closer. He pulled a dirty rag out of his back pocket and wiped at your lips roughly. You hissed at the pain, feeling the cut tear open further at his rough treatment.
“I know you have a cunt, but that doesn’t mean you have to be one.” Montoya laughed, elbowing one of the men standing beside him. You took an inaudible deep breath. You would get him back for that one.
One of the men cut a hole in the door. Montoya smiled in a way that made you sick, “You’re up, sweetheart.”
Just the way he said one simple, affectionate, adoring word made you want to puke over the run-down railing and into the grass. With him, that word would never be said in an adoring way, only to make your stomach churn. You were nothing but a piece of tail to him.
You were nothing to anyone.
That's why they were so eager to use you as bait. You had survived it your entire life, but you still never meant anything to any single one of them. They were your entire world, your family, but you were nothing more than trash.
You knew, right as you stuck your hand through that hole in the door, that you would get them all killed if need be. You would run, you would fight, you would hide—anything it took to get away from them.
~~~~~
That night at the Sun God Motel, you met the solution to your problem. He was the pale white horse of death, and everything you could ever dream of. He strolled up while you were outside, the after-party raging on in the motel room. Sex workers were everywhere inside the room, topless, as the men paid them for their time. It hadn’t been the first time tonight you had been asked to strip; it hadn’t even been the 5th, but you lost count after that. These men were disgusting, so when he showed up, his head tilted curiously at you as you smiled and took a long sip of your beer.
Disgusting. You preferred whiskey, but they never believed you.
He moved to say something or attack, but you nodded to the left, “They're in there. Have at it.”
He tilted his head at you, curious. His icy green eyes shone in the dim yellow light, a halo of red neon light around him. He was holy. Divine. He was as beautiful as Lucifer, and you were more than willing to sin for him. Throw away your life and your family. You wanted to be like him. You wanted your eyes to be that same frosty green shade, your skin to be of death, you wanted to be divine like him.
He smirked, no fangs in sight. His voice was slightly deep and raspy, as if he were thirsty. “Care for a drink?”
You could feel your eyes dilate, arousal shooting through you at the sound of his voice. So rich and elegant, truly a product of his time. Whenever that was. You nodded, backing up a little, opening the motel door next to the party. He followed, his footsteps silent for such a large man. He had clearly learned to walk without making a sound.
You kept your eyes on him the whole time. He smiled softly, clearly having noticed your eyes never leaving him. Maybe it was the years of training, the brainwashing, he thought. Clearly not an innate distrust of vampires. If it had been, he wouldn’t have been invited into this motel room with you. Alone. If you had distrusted, hated vampires as much as your supposed father, he would have never smelled your intoxicating arousal at his mere presence.
You sat on the edge of the bed, your mid-length skirt riding up your thighs. Strangely, it reminded Jan of who he used to be, a priest. You crossed your legs, leaning back onto your arms, your back arching slightly, and your breasts pushed forward. Entirely unholy thoughts for such a holy man.
But that was who he used to be. Now he was king. He was no longer a member of the clergy, nor was he celibate. He was The King of The Damned. Soon, you would have things you used to be too. You would be able to say that you used to be scared. You used to be abused. You used to be nothing to anyone. But then you would be able to say that you were a vampire. You could kill all the people who made you feel weak. Who made you feel like nothing.
He moved closer, his long coat swaying behind him. His full black attire complemented his tall, pale form. While his black clothes hid him from view, he was clearly strong, built, just from the sheer size of him. You knew it wasn’t true, but for a moment, you wondered if being a vampire made you as beautiful as a statue. His long black hair tousled to perfection, curling perfectly, almost gently along his shoulders and the nape of his neck. If he stood still, you would have mistaken him for a painted statue of an old god. One whose name had long since been forgotten. You didn’t want his name to be forgotten, and so, in a moment of what must have been stupidity, you asked.
“Do creatures like me have names anymore?” He asked, his large hands clasped together in front of his pelvis.
“Of course, every creature has a name. Even creatures as dreadful as-”
“Vampires?” He finished.
“Humans,” you responded.
His icy eyes looked down at you curiously, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he had heard. In his experience, Humans were arrogant. The worst species of them all. They killed just to kill. Not for survival, they hardly ate what they had destroyed. They maimed, just for the fun of it, and they thought that this senseless violence made them the best, nearly indestructible. Their hearts were full of hate for anything different, including demons like him. Maybe he was a hypocrite, but the dead were far better than the living.
He chose not to mince his words as he spoke next, “You are a strange little being. A vampire hunter who does not hate, or hunt vampires.”
“I see vampires the same way I see myself when I look in the mirror.” You replied, the words coming out casually as if you weren’t challenging hundreds of years of lived experience.
“And how is that?” He tilted his head, his frosted eyes trained on you in that way that made your panties damp. He took a deep breath.
“As a survivor.” You said simply, your voice soft, melodic even. He stepped closer, his long, pointy nails brushing your jaw gently as he touched your face.
“You are a survivor indeed,” he paused, as if thinking through his words carefully, “I can offer you more than they can.”
“I know you can, I want it. I want to be like you.” You whispered, and he leaned down, face level with yours. He was only inches from your face, and god was he intoxicating. He smelled of petrichor and the forest. His eyes were even more beautiful up close. The patterns were a snowy labyrinth that you could get lost in. He brushed the backs of his fingers along your cheekbone, his head tilting in the way that a cat’s would.
“You will be my ultimate survivor. My beautiful weapon.” His voice was deep, his eyes entrancing. You nodded, barely moving. Your lips parted slightly, looking pillowy and soft. He leaned in slowly, his breath fanning across your face. His fingers played with the hair at the nape of your neck.
When his lips finally touched yours, it was like everything finally made sense. Everything clicked into place. His fingers tangled in that hair at the base of your skull, pulling you closer. He needed you as much as you needed him. You didn’t even recognize when your eyes closed. So lost in blind pleasure that the loss of one of your senses was inconsequential. When he pulled away, your lips chased his for a moment, and he chuckled lowly. Your eyes didn’t open for several moments. Still too lost in the feeling of his cool lips on yours that you didn’t even notice that you couldn’t see.
His breath was heavy as it fanned across your neck, and you tilted your head to the side, awaiting that deadly bite. But his cool lips touched your jugular softly. Your parted lips let a soft moan pass through them. You could feel him smirk against your neck, his cold lips brushing softly against your warm skin. Your cheeks heated, blood rushing through your veins to reach your face.
“You are beautiful, so warm,” he whispered, “You are the sunlight to my darkness, the day to my night. Perhaps I am Icarus. I fear my wax wings will melt in your warmth.”
He kissed down your neck, lips brushing your collarbones and the tops of your breasts as he moved his way down your body, “Every moment I touch you, I can feel the wax burning my skin.”
He reached your legs, kissing your calves and up your thighs, “I hurtle towards the ocean, in complete bliss for having been so close to you at all.”
He slid your leathery skirt up, his fingers gently grazed the fabric of your panties, a cute pink color that paired well with your delicate skin. His chilled lips on the warm skin of the inside of your thigh made you shiver. His blunt teeth grazed your skin, feeling almost as cold and harsh as stone.
His glossy green eyes flicked up to yours, a sharp look as his head tipped back slightly and his fangs grew out. He leaned down slowly, his fangs sinking into your soft skin. Your eyes closed, your stomach tightening at the pain.
It was over in a second. He bit you and then moved up your body, holding your jaw, “Doesn’t it feel beautiful? Something you’ll never forget. I know I won’t.”
“That’s it?” You asked weakly. Your eyes were soft and vulnerable.
“That’s it, my Sunlight. Now, you will be my Sunlight for all time.”
You took a moment to breathe, the pain throbbing in your thigh. Your sweet blood dyed his mouth red, his lips crimson on his pallid skin. You looked at him and you couldn’t find it within yourself to be horrified by the sight, by the pain.
He was beautiful, carved from stone. The veins that protruded from his hairline and encircled his face gave him a marble-like quality. His eye sockets were red and sunken, as if he were suffering from a bad sleep. But, to you?
To you, he was everything. He kissed along your cheeks, leaving trails of blood along your warmed flesh, painting your cheeks with a blush that was so natural it was unnatural. Then he stood, kissing the back of your hand and pulling your skirt down to hide your fresh bite.
“I will see you soon, my Sunlight. I will feel your warmth again.”
~~~~~
You jolted awake suddenly. Daylight was pouring through the truck windows. You felt the sting in your cheek before you registered anything else. A blonde woman leaned on your shoulder, semi-unconscious. Definitely out of it. You took your first deep, full chested breath in what felt like hours.
“Are you finally awake, Kid?” Jack asked. You nodded, still a little out of it. Your whole experience with that vampire felt more like a dream than a reality. You had let him bite you, and you had never gotten his name. If it hadn’t been for the subtle, pulsating pain in your thigh, you would have thought it was an alcohol-induced wet dream. About a romance so forbidden it would rival Romeo and Juliet. You lost all track of thought when you thought of him.
He had infected you with more than vampirism. He had infected you with hope.
Hope that your life could be more than this. You wanted beautiful red and purple veins that resembled marble to mar your skin, not the fading bruises along your cheekbones and jaw. You wanted your eyes to be that unnatural icy green that belonged only to vampires. But, more than anything, you wanted to rip out Jack Crow’s throat with your teeth. You didn’t want to feed from him.
He, like all true monsters, would be killed without remorse or guilt. Slaughtered mercilessly like he had done to so many vampires.
“Are you fucking listening to me, Kid?” He snapped, his hand coming up to bat harshly at your face again. You nodded, but he hit you again.
“Fucking listen this time, or I’ll kill you, just like I killed your whore mother.”
Your blood runs cold, a sick feeling rising in your chest, “What?”
“That bitch got herself turned into a vampire while looking for you, fucking idiot. So, I killed her.”
You felt rage, pure and utter rage, boil up inside you, you shook as if you had downed 4 shots of espresso. Your hands wrung together in your lap, nails biting into your skin so hard that droplets of blood started to pool in the indents and stain your nails. Somewhere in your heart, you knew if your new vampire lover knew about the blood seeping from your palms, caused by your hand, he would take your hand in his. Gently licking the droplets from your perfect skin, and reminding you that not even you may hurt yourself under his watchful eye. The thought of him, his frosted green eyes, made your pulse race a little slower, your fists unclench from their painful position. The dark red blood smeared against your palm as your fingers pulled away, making them shiny and red as your fingernails became rust colored.
You could almost hear his voice in your head as his face flashed against your brain, his skin a pale, snowy white, with crimson and violet veins decorating his face and around his sunken, iridescent irises. His perfect eyes were framed by long, thick black lashes. His imaginary gaze was so piercing that it would have made you compliant within seconds. He whispered to you in an unheard voice, his lips moving with no sound escaping. But, somehow, you understood the message all the same.
It would only be a matter of time until you were together again.
Until his plush, pillowy lips met yours with such heated ferocity that your mind could shatter at the very possibility of more. To feel his cold fingertips against your warm skin again would be like rainfall in the desert to someone who had been stranded for days, suffering from mirages of large waterfalls and lakes. Like a salve to a burn that makes the stinging skin quiet. The minute your flesh would meet his, everything would make sense. Everything would be complete.
~~~~~
It had been around 48 hours since you had met your vampire lover. You still struggled, grappled with the idea that you had never known his name. The way things were going, it felt like you never would.
Jack was still gone, leaving you, Montoya, and a blonde woman named Katrina alone in a hotel room. It was here that you witnessed Montoya’s sheer brutality. Katrina was innocent, and yet here she was, naked and petrified.
“You could at least untie her,” you spoke, your jaw hard set and voice tense. Montoya groaned from the couch, half drunk and asleep.
“What?”
“You could at least untie her,” you repeated. His eyes grew cold, looking up at you with disdain.
“She’s going to turn into one of those bloodsucking fucks.” He said, as if you were stupid. All slow and condescending.
“But she hasn’t turned yet, so the least you could do is treat her as she is. Human.” He grumbled as he sat up, a half-full beer can falling from his hand and spilling onto the matted hotel carpet. Slowly, he stumbled his way over to Katrina, untying her wrists and ankles from the bedframe. Katrina curled in on herself immediately, pulling the white fluffy comforter up to cover her body from his view. She gulped, almost imperceptibly, looking at you with thankful eyes. Montoya fell back into the shitty hotel couch, falling asleep immediately, his face smashed against a rough pillow.
Katrina relaxed as soon as he was asleep, snoring loudly from the other side of the room.
“Thank you,” she muttered, her voice and face thankful.
“You never deserved to be treated that way. It was cruel, but I can’t say that I expected better from him. It will only get worse when Jack arrives. They will use you, just as they have used me.”
“So, what do I do?” She asked softly, her eyebrows raising as tears blurred her vision.
“We leave.”
“We?”
“Yes. We both need to escape. You for your life, and me for mine. After we escape, we can go our separate ways.” Your voice was hushed, an almost inaudible whisper, but her ears, growing more sensitive by the hour, heard you.
“I need to find the one who did this to me. The man who bit me.”
Your head tilted, “Was he tall? Over six feet?”
She nodded, her blonde curly hair bouncing with the movement.
“Then it seems we both need to find the same man.” You whispered, looking into her crystal blue eyes.
“Why would you need to find him? Are you planning on killing him? All by yourself?”
Your hand reached out towards hers, your skin the same temperature, even though you had both grown colder, “No…He bit me, too.”
~~~~~
From then on, everything was a silent exchange, communicating only through looks and glances. She would distract him while you slipped out the door, unnoticed. You would wait to see her before leaving. She would climb out of the bathroom window and onto the thick ledge. She didn’t want to be a vampire, you had learned. So, instead of coming to meet you, she would jump, hopefully passing before the transformation was complete and she became near indestructible.
You would run, following your growing visions until you found him again. Everything was understood without speaking a word.
“I would like to put some clothes on.” She said suddenly, Montoya looked over at her from the box TV in the room. He shrugged, tossing her clothes at her from a pile next to the couch. Katrina wrapped the blanket around herself, scooping her clothes up with one arm as she stepped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. She stepped softly across the tiles to the other side, where another door to the bathroom remained open. She tried to shut it before Montoya’s hand shot out.
“This stays open,” She looked at him with anger, and he softened his tone, “Just a little.”
With the door ajar, she changed into clothes before silently climbing out the window. You waited patiently, and after a little too long with a little too much silence, Montoya grew suspicious. He stood, his eyes narrowing, stepping closer to the bathroom. You stood from your spot on the bed, the mattress springs creaking, but he never looked back at you.
You leaned down, grabbing your shoes from next to the door, sliding the lock open. You timed it with him bursting into the bathroom, the lock click faint against his shout. The door opened the smallest amount you could while still being able to fit through.
Once the light from the hallway shone on your face, you breathed a heavy sigh of relief. You booked it down the stairs, not taking time to put your shoes on as you ran through the lobby and out onto the street. You ran for blocks, eyes scanning the pavement for anything sharp that would cut your unprotected feet.
You stopped, breathless, in front of a bronze statue outside the entrance of a vast green park. Your eyes scanned the outside of the large hotel for your new blonde friend. There she was, about to jump, when Montoya grabbed her.
She flung herself forward in an attempt to get out of his grasp, dragging him out of the window and onto the ledge. He picked her up and fell backwards through the window. Your face drained of all warmth, your blood turning icy cold.
You looked up at the building with horror. Soon, Montoya would realize that you had fled.
A cold hand fell to your shoulder. Your skin tingled under the cold palm, the sharp fingers gently caressing your flesh. Without looking up, you knew it was him.
“Sunlight,” his voice was deep, raspy, calming. Like the harsh waves of the ocean hitting the rock face. His fingers caressed your soft skin, his long nails a sharp and deadly weapon, touching you so gently it was hard to believe that he could shove his hand straight through a man’s chest and out the other side. His fingers were forever stained scarlet. A permanent reminder of the beast, the monster that this lover was supposed to be. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times you envisioned his lips stained with your blood, you could not believe him to be anything less than perfect.
Perhaps you were the one they called Icarus after all.
You looked up at him, wide-eyed, adoring. Your plush lips opened, eyes darting back and forth between his pastel green eyes.
Without even thinking, you whispered, “I love you.”
He smiled, looking down at you thoughtfully, “My Sunlight, you are already so sure?”
You nodded, trying to reach his lips whilst standing on your tiptoes, but you were still miles away. The backs of his long, slim fingers brushed against your cheek in that same reverent way. As if nothing was more precious to him than you. With your soft skin, wide, shimmering eyes, and a willingness to fall into his darkness that he found to be miraculous.
He had been there as Shakespeare had written Romeo and Juliet at his behest, but he never thought that it could be true. Falling in love so quickly, so easily, that it was easier than breathing. If he still believed in a god, he would pray. Pray that your ending would be different. That the two of you were not doomed as they were, as Icarus was. Love was for children, he had thought, for imbeciles who had not experienced the world as he had.
Who had not seen the violence and war, all fought in the name of something as idiotic as love. But now… now he understood. He, too, would drink that smooth, sweet poison if there was even a thought that he would never see you again. And as he looked into your eyes, he knew you would just as easily throw yourself upon his dagger to join him in eternal bliss.
You heard a shout from the hotel’s direction, whipping around, you saw Montoya leaning out the window, shouting at you. For the first time, you didn’t feel fear as you looked up at him. You were nothing to him, and so, you granted him the same sentiment. You gently took hold of the tall vampire’s sleek hand and walked off into the dark park where you would not be seen.
~~~~~
The next day and a half passed in a blur. You grew weaker, sicker. You could not eat or drink and slept away 23 hours of the day. Only waking at dusk to see him. He would pet you softly through the night while plotting. Leaving you with trusted masters when events came that could not be dealt with by anyone else. You would stir, wake for only a few minutes at a time, and fall back asleep. Safe and loved.
In the times you would rise, you would ask questions. Your first being his name.
“I have not needed a name in a very long time,” he whispered, the stars shining bright from your view in the grass. He smiled softly, no fangs in sight. He looked more human in the starlight.
“I was named after my father. He died when I was a boy. As did my mother.”
You gently pressed your hand to his, looking at him with remorse, “I am sorry for your loss.”
He smiled softly, believing you, “It was almost seven hundred years ago.”
“That does not mean it cannot still hurt. What they say is a lie. Time does not heal all wounds. It only makes them more bearable. New wounds come, crossing over the old ones, making them deeper and more painful. It is only when you meet someone with a salve that they can start to heal over. You just have to hope that those wounds don’t get infected before you meet them.”
“Jan,” he whispered into your hair, kissing your forehead softly, “Everyone else calls me Valek. But, you get to call me Jan.”
It wasn’t long after he spoke these sweet words that you fell asleep in his arms. He looked at you until dawn started to break, and he carried you back inside, placing you on an old mattress. And then he buried himself in the front yard.
~~~~~
On that final day, you could hardly move. You never knew dying would be so exhausting. So…painful. Your head throbbed like when you got that concussion from being thrown into that vampire.
It wasn’t until you met Jan that you realized how dire your situation had been. You and Jan had had similar childhoods. Your lives revolved around the Catholic church. He had been raised by the clergy after his mother and father died in the great famine. After Jack kidnapped you, he raised you the way he had been raised, with Catholicism as a lifeblood.
He would never tell you anything of your mother, the priests never told Jan of his parents either, other than that he had been named for his father. Jan found solace in you, as you found solace in him.
In the night, even as you slept peacefully in his arms, he would divulge his darkest secrets and his greatest hopes. He told you of how he wanted to walk in the sun again, just to feel the pleasant warmth on his face that could never be replicated by the moon. He hoped that you would understand.
When you woke, you were disoriented. In the dark, it was cold and damp. Your eyes adjusted to the light like an owl’s. You cracked your neck, stepping out of the run-down prison in one of Jan’s long black shirts and nothing else. The sharp stones dug into the soles of your feet, but you felt no pain, and when you looked at Jack, tied to the front of a truck, he looked up at you in horror.
It was only then that you realized that you had not taken a breath, that your skin was corpse-cold, and that you had more energy than you had had in days. You had completed your transformation…almost.
And there he sat, a picture-perfect meal. Your horrid father. You felt your mouth water as you watched blood drip down his face. Jan’s hand came to your shoulder, “Not him, my Sunlight. We need him still. I do believe, however, that there is still a priest kicking around here somewhere.”
That caught your attention. A delicious priest, your eyes flitted around, surveying every place that they may be hiding. Your wintery green eyes fell upon an old garage, you focused intently. Bah-boom, bah-boom, bah-boom. Your head crooked to the side, a wolfish grin spreading across your face as Jan rubbed your shoulder.
As you stepped foot into the garage, you realized that with your bare feet, you did not make a sound. You took your first breath in hours, it felt…strange. Unnatural. The little priest must have cut themselves, for you smelled the blood that seeped from their skin, coating the flesh in divine elixir.
Poor thing, handsome too, it was unfortunate that you’d have to kill him. You feigned that you hadn’t seen him, hadn’t smelled the gold dripping from his veins. You slammed the door, and after a minute or two of complete silence, his head peeked out from behind the counter. His eyes landed on your ghostly form, horror falling across his features. Your brand-new fangs poked the inside of your bottom lip. Your jaw parted, your tongue reaching out to feel the sharp points. He couldn’t even scream before you flung yourself over the counter.
Your fangs slid into his flesh with no effort, you were no longer a gazelle. You were a lioness, about to make your first kill. His blood poured from his artery into your waiting mouth, spilling all over you and him when you took a breath. With his blood, the aching in your skull faded away. Your joints became loose, and your mind sharpened as your canines had. The priest slumped to the floor, blood still gushing violently from his neck. The front of Jan’s black shirt was sticky and damp with his holy blood.
You had not been elegant with your new teeth. You had ripped his throat open as a true lioness would. You emerged from the garage a changed person. And Jan could feel it. His eyes filled with a light you hadn’t seen before at the sight of you. Blood coating your chest, chin, and splattered across your face. You shone with light that could only be defined as holy.
Maybe he did believe in a god after all, or rather, a goddess.
You were in bliss, strutting to Jan. He picked you up as you reached him, and the Cardinal laughed. Your pale, sage eyes shot daggers at the man. Jan shushed softly in your ear, a calming noise.
“We need him,” he soothed. His lithe fingers holding you by your thighs, legs wrapped around his waist.
“He makes a mockery of us,” you seethed, looking up into his eyes. Blood still dripped from your chin, but grew thicker as it lingered on your frigid skin. He shushed you again, tilting his head as if to look at you better.
You took a deep breath and looked for the scent of him. It had grown more intense with your increased senses. A calm settled over your skin. Then, as if he were determined to wreck your peace, Jack Crow scoffed. Your head whipped towards him, your mouth watered once more at the sight of his blood.
“You vile bitch,” he spat. Blood, dirt, and sweat dripped from his nose.
You said nothing in response, only looking at him coldly, his blood boiled under his skin, “What, you let that undead freak fuck you, turn you away from your family?”
A laugh bubbled its way out of your throat before you could stop it. You unwrapped your legs from Jan, falling gracefully from his grip and landing on the dirt.
“Family?” You asked, a wolfish grin spread across your pretty face, eyes as cold as the tundra. You stepped closer, Jan’s long shirt flowing gracefully around you, making you almost ethereal.
“I am no one’s family. You made sure of that.” You kneeled in the dirt in front of him, long nails pressing into his face as you grabbed his chin.
“You killed the only family I had,” you whispered, your breath smelling metallic, of the priest’s blood.
“What about me?” He asked, desperate. He knew he was going to die, that no one would save him.
“You are not my father. Not my real one, though I suppose you’ve done damage only a father could do.”
“I raised you! I fed you-”
“Sometimes.” You smiled sweetly, and he knew that nothing he could say would change what you were. Vampires were soulless. There was no reasoning with a vampire. You felt a surge of pride in you at his silence, at his defeat.
Jan’s hand fell to your shoulder, a soft, gentle touch that conveyed thousands of “I love you’s” without words. Your frozen eyes flicked to his hand, his willowy fingers stretching out before resting on your exposed stony flesh.
“Perhaps, Sunlight, you should do some damage to him that only a daughter could do.” Jan smiled, utter delight encroaching on his words. You stood slowly, all your attention on his hand resting on your shoulder. His glacial skin upon yours, you took comfort in the idea that you were the same temperature now.
You turned around in his arms. His lips fell to yours, and it was as if the entire world clicked into place. There were no fireworks or theatrics. Your heart was a simple burning fire that threatened to consume you from the inside out. He was slow, soft, his lips locking with yours. Fitting in place as if they were puzzle pieces. He had waited nearly seven hundred years to find you, the other half of his heart, the missing piece of his soul.
For a moment, he feared that he hadn’t made his feelings for you clear, that you believed your affection, your adoration, to be one-sided, but with this kiss, he knew. You knew he loved you with every fiber of his being. With every speck, every atom that made up his undead flesh.
He was Icarus, and you the sun, but his wax wings would not melt, for you were the same temperature as he was. He could reach you. He could escape his prison and fade away into the light.
Your fingers tangled in his long black hair, his large hands sliding from the base of your spine to your ass, pulling you in closer, needing you fervently. Jack groaned, reminding you he was there. A frown took hold of your plush lips, while a Cheshire grin took hold of his.
“You know, Sunlight, I think Mr. Crow is getting off a little too easily, being burned alive.” He purred in your ear, his voice was entrancing, his ideas flowed so easily into your mind, mixing with your own twisted fantasies. Your eyes lit up like embers, sparking to life. A flash of unadulterated joy, as your mind twisted and turned with everything you could do to make his torturous fate last.
One particularly sick thought entered your brain that would satisfy every desire. You could show him that now, in spite of his efforts, you were loved. The look on your face made Jack sick to his stomach. He had never seen someone’s face morph into such a shit-eating grin. A glint crossed your snowy pistachio eyes.
Slowly, you unbuttoned the bloody black shirt you wore as a dress. Right there, in front of everyone, and for once, you felt no shame. It was time to put on that show that all of Jack’s buddies had so desperately wanted.
Jan’s eyes were trained on your body, a hand reaching out to touch your waist as you shrugged off the sticky button-down.
Now, in this moment, he truly felt god for the first time. His fingers danced softly along your skin, tempted to touch and kiss every inch. He pressed his lips to your neck, your head tilting to the side to allow him more room. Your eyes closed in bliss, feeling his long fangs scrape against the newly toughened skin.
When his fangs sank in, you moaned, a different kind of pleasure wracking through your body like an orgasm. A sharp inhale, a soft groan, his hands sliding from your waist to your breasts. One large hand slid up to support your head, lithe fingers keeping you in place. Your vision blurred as another wave of pleasure washed over you.
“You’re fucking sick, you know that?” Jack shouted, feeling as if he was about to hurl.
Jan looked up from your neck, his fangs retracting, “Far less than you.”
Jack looked at you both with disgust and tried to spit at you, but the only blood that left his mouth was after your kick to the side of his face. In all the years Jack had trained you to be his perfect little soldier, he never expected that his own teachings would be turned back on him.
“Keep your fucking mouth shut,” you growled. When you saw defiance in his eyes, you kneeled in front of him, knees pressed into the hard rocks.
“Look at you,” you hissed, “how the mighty have fallen. From the moment I met you, I wanted you dead. I’m only sorry that it took so long. But I will enjoy your suffering, as you reveled in mine.”
“I’ll kill you, you sick freak.” His eyes were murderous, his voice sincere.
You leaned in close, grabbing his face roughly, your long, sharp, pointed nails threatening to dig into his skin and make him like you. A slow smile crept onto your face, your voice cold, “I wonder who made me this way.”
Your head tilted, as if daring him to continue. You watched the blood drip down his face and into the gravel along with dirt and sweat. Jan ran his long fingers along the line of your spine, the slow, careful touch making you shiver. The backs of his fingers touched the back of your neck before he grabbed it, as if warning you beforehand.
“For so long, you thought you owned her, Jack. You treated her worse than a dog, and yet you wonder why she strayed. Why she attacks. You are an arrogant man, one who cannot see that he has any flaws at all. She is no longer yours, Jack. She is mine.”
You stood slowly as he guided you up. He kissed you hard, forcing the air from your lungs before he slid to his knees.
“I have watched humans devolve for over six hundred years. They have forgotten how to worship, and how it feels to be touched by a god.”
Jan’s head was tilted up, looking only at you, “Perhaps I will show you.”
His pale, blood-stained lips spelled devotion on your hips, his large hands wrapped around your thighs to pull you closer. He kissed a scar on the inside of your thigh, a glossy, almost opalescent thing where his teeth had touched you for the first time.
Your fingers tangled in his long black hair, your head tilting back as he kissed along the flesh gently. A sound passed your lips that mirrored your gasp of pain when he had bitten you those few days ago. Only this time, it was pure bliss. There was something addictive in his saliva, you were sure. Some kind of drug that drew you to him in a way you couldn’t control. Something that made you lose your breath when you looked down at him, eyes full of pure adoration. His eyes were similar to yours. For a moment, you wondered if you, too, looked so divine as he did. His lips marked your skin with passion you had only seen in movies. You untangled your fingers from his long, inky hair, gently cupping his cheek.
“Deus meus es tu, divinus es.” He whispered against your palm, his labyrinthic eyes trained on you in complete and utter worship, like how an art-loving tourist may look at the Venus de Milo. If his eyes were to be believed, you were walking perfection. A goddess of beauty, love, and pleasure.
You supposed, even though you did not understand him, that that was precisely what he was saying. His lashes were long and full, his red eyes heavy. The way his shoulders, which were usually so square, slumped told you everything. You were his, and he was yours. Utterly and completely. His eyes glinted with silvery mischief before he licked the inside of your thigh, along that sensitive opal scar. He licked through your folds, gathering the sweet nectar and letting it make a home on his tongue.
He worshiped truly for the first time since the exorcism. His long, sharp nails dug into your marbled flesh. His tongue sliding lewdly across your clit, as if you were a water source in the desert. Your moans filled the courtyard, thick lashes fluttering in ecstasy. You learned back, falling onto the car that Jack was tied to the front of. You slid until you were in the dirt next to him, pure orgasmic relief washing over you in no time at all.
He was perfect, you were perfect. He crawled up your body like he did the first night you met and kissed you, mouth full of your slick. You tasted yourself on his tongue, and your legs spread out wide to make room for him. Jack made a disgusted noise, being forced to be present as two vampires made love.
Jan let out a deep moan like rumble as he unbuttoned his pants, letting his hard cock spring out. He leaned back and took in the sight before him, the unbelievable beauty of his goddess. His hands caressed the sides of your body, taking in every millimeter of skin. It didn’t take long for him to push in, spurred on by the sight of your love-drunk eyes and bloody body. Your eyes rolled back in your undead skull and Jack wretched at the sight, turning away.
Jan paused, his eyes creased in anger and he grabbed Jack's face harshly, “Watch! You are lucky, mortal. Lucky to see gods as they worship each other's flesh.”
Jack's face contorted in a snear, “You are sick, you dead fuck!”
Jan's pale lips pulled into a smirk as he pushed the rest of the way into you, his clawed hand still holding Jack's face, “You will watch, Jack Crow. You will watch as I worship a goddess so divine that even speaking her name would rot your flesh and tear your soul.”
Jan’s hand fell from Jack’s face, and came around your throat.Slowly, he began to rock, his strong, sturdy legs supporting his weight, his other hand tight on your hip, “Si Deus est, tu es ille. Vel ab eo missus.”
You giggle, your hips pushing up into his without thinking. Trying desperately to take more. To have him closer. Closer than flesh could be. Jan ran his fingers gently along the column of your neck.
“You are everything that could, and would ever be holy,” Jan moaned into your hair, “I am the only one who can see how divine you truly are.”
“You’re the only one…”Your voice came out lilted, as if in song.
“We are gods, my Sunlight. We will instill a glorious reign that will last as long as you shall live. As soon as I can walk in the light, the world you know will belong to us, and we may do as we wish, whenever we wish.”
“Promise?” You asked as he gave a particularly hard thrust, sending your voice into a blissed yelp.
“I promise.”
As he said this simple little phrase, his eyes rose to Jack, being forced to watch by another vampire. Jan pulled away from your body and you let out a distressed whine, “Turn over, Sunlight. He needs to see your face.”
You turned in the dirt, matting the drying blood with small rocks and debris. As soon as you were on your belly, he reached his hand around to rest on your throat once more and pulled your head back as he pushed his hard cock back in. This time he was much rougher, more calculating with his movements. You gave rewarding whines and whimpers, loud moans of praise.
He wanted to make Jack suffer.
And suffer he did. He watched your face contort in pure pleasure with abject horror. What a pure thing, lust, love, domination. The look of terror and revulsion that marred Jack’s features could almost make Jan fill you with his cum. You tensed around him, pushing your ass back against him with desperation. You needed him. You needed more of the way he felt inside you.
Finally, you were on your knees for a reason that made sense, finally the pressure marks would be worth it. Finally you had a god worth loving.
You let out a primal moan, your pallid green eyes rolling back as you shook. Fangs extended, looking just like the animal you were. Jan’s hand released your throat, and your head slumped forward against the dirt. He pulled your ass up until your cheek was in the dirt and he moved with the ferocity and power of a lion, mating you, breeding you, making you well and truly his for the rest of time. Eternal.
You were blissed out in the dirt as Jan and the Cardinal burned Jack alive, you listened to his horrid, terrible screams with a great pleasure, even touching yourself to the sound of them. Long clawed fingers swirling around your clit, coating it in Jan’s cum.
When it was all over, and dawn was breaking, Jan held you tight as the sun came up. You had seen millions of sunrises, and this one was nothing special. A boring blending, swirling painting of pale blue and a vibrant orange.
You looked back at Jan, his head over your shoulder, bloody tear tracks running down his perfectly chiseled face. Your head tilted slightly, taking in the sight. He was far more beautiful than any sunrise.
“I haven’t seen the sun in more than 600 years,” his head shook slightly, a tiny movement that made your brows furrow, and bloody tears prick your eyes, “And yet…”
“What is it?” Your voice was soft, near angelically so.
