In Dreams He came @deadzombiegirly - Tumblr Blog

Lovers From The Past

Series Summary: The year is 1467, and you, the princess of Transylvania, fall in love with a lord; a clever, handsome young man. Your love was great and your bond unbreakable, but fate demands tragedy, and the love of your life gets killed before your very eyes. Devastated and driven by rage, you search for your beloved for five hundred years. At Nevermore Academy in Jericho, you are to find him and his name— Isaac Night.

Pairing: Isaac Night x vampire!Reader

Word count: 14k

Series warnings: fem!Reader, no descriptions of the Reader, fluff, falling in love, romance, angst, violence, tragedy, a bit of religious themes (only up to chapter four), fic starts in the Middle Ages, ooc Isaac at first, major character death, an animal getting hurt, brief allusions to intimacy, blood, murder, background original characters (platonic), humor, yearning, slow burn, minor character death, consuming blood, grief, description of wounds, Gomez playing matchmaker, smut, loss of virginity, gentle sex, piv sex, loosely inspired by Dracula A Love Tale, no mentions of Y/N

Notes: I have no excuse why this took so long, but it’s 14k words long and there’s smut FINALLY so I think it makes up for it 🤧 English isn’t my first language.

Chapter Eighteen: A Night Beneath The Stars

Traveling by plane wasn't an option. Isaac didn't know how the pressure would affect his mechanical heart, as he had never flown before. His family had apparently taken a vacation to Europe when he was a small child— back when Francoise was barely two years old— but he couldn't remember it, and at that time, he’d still had his normal heart of flesh and blood. Neither you nor any of the others had argued when he voiced his concerns. Furthermore, airport security checks posed too great a risk. If Stonehearst was actively hunting them, he would surely have alerted the authorities, and they would certainly be stopped if they tried to leave the continent. No, flying was out of the question.

You settled on the only other option left: the ocean. Fortunately, Hester Frump owned not only a fleet of vintage cars but also— according to Morticia— a decent enough sailing yacht that was sitting idle in Nova Scotia. Hester rarely used it these days, especially now that the summer winds had shifted and autumn had set in, bringing rougher seas. Morticia would arrange for the boat, while Larissa returned to school, Fester stayed put to avoid causing another disaster, and the rest of you waited. Gomez also headed back to the dense woods surrounding Nevermore to retrieve Aleo’s body, which the police most likely hadn't taken away yet. You didn't want to leave him behind. America hadn't been his home, and he deserved to be laid to rest in the place he had called home.

It took Gomez and Morticia less than two hours. Morticia managed to bribe the man responsible for looking after her mother's boat by claiming that she and her friends wanted to take a short trip across the North Atlantic during the break. Aleo’s body remained in the car’s trunk until they reached the harbor and after that... well, he’d likely end up in a crate so they could ship him across.

Some horribly modern song blared from the front speakers of the car Gomez was driving. Morticia sat beside him, her head resting on his shoulder as she painted her fingernails blood-red. Francoise and Isaac sat side-by-side in the back of Hester’s limousine, while you lay on the leather-upholstered seats opposite them. You stared up at the ceiling, hands resting on your stomach and eyes closed, listening to the siblings plan the route. The figures were ridiculously high, but that was simply the price you had to pay if you wanted to cross the Atlantic by boat.

A large map, which Gomez had swiped from the geography classroom before driving back to meet you, lay on Isaac’s lap, while Francoise held a small tin of pins in her slender hands. The painkillers were clouding your mind a bit, yet you had still managed to follow most of the route planning so far. If they drove straight through, it would take about a day and a half to reach Nova Scotia, but that was by far the easiest part of the journey. Things would only get difficult once you boarded the sailboat and cast off from the dock.

The Atlantic crossing would take between 40 and 60 days, though you leaned toward the 60-day estimate, given that none of you was an experienced sailor. You had been on ships before, but always as a passenger, never as captain. In any case, Night had strictly forbidden you from engaging in any strenuous activity, fearing your stitches might tear. You would likely be in charge of the binoculars. Gomez was dead set on playing the captain, and while Isaac didn't say it in so many words, you could hear the nervousness in his voice. Just a few weeks ago, he would barely set foot in the waters of the lake surrounding Nevermore, since even a little water in his mechanisms could kill him. Now, he was facing an ocean voyage— and not during the best season for it— that would take nearly two months. A single storm could mean his death.

"I’d schedule our final stop in Athens," you heard Isaac mutter. "It won't save us any time, but it cuts down on the sea travel. From there, we can cover the last leg by train or car."

Francoise grabbed another pin and stuck it into the map at Athens. “Sounds like a lovely vacation.”

Isaac immediately shook his head, letting out a sharp huff. He leaned his head back against the seat while his leg bounced tensely up and down. "It’s going to be anything but lovely, Francoise. Just think of the risks. You could transform. What do we do then? Push you overboard? Never.”

“You packed the sedatives, right? Nothing’s going to happen,” she tried to reassure her older brother, but he didn’t even look at her.

“You don’t know that. If a storm hits— just one— it could be the death of me. If things go to shit, it could mean death for all of you. Just imagine the boat capsizing and you ending up in the open ocean in the middle of the night. It wouldn’t just be hypothermia that killed you, but the rough seas would do it, too. You would drown, she would drown, and Gomez and Morticia wouldn’t be spared either.”

“Correction: I won’t drown,” you said, opening one eye so you could look at them from your reclining position. It was the first time you’d spoken in the last hour. “I’m not much of a swimmer, that much is true, but I won’t drown. Though I’d have to cross the ocean alone, swimming, and I’d have lost all of you. I would probably just impale myself then.”

Isaac ran his dominant hand through his hair as another deep sigh escaped his throat. “The whole thing is a terrible idea. We are heading straight toward our deaths, and no one but me seems to realize it.”

“There are still groups of sirens in the ocean, aren't there?” Fran suggested tentatively, shrugging her shoulders.

“Oh, you think Ariel the Little Mermaid is going to save us?” Sarcasm dripped from Isaac’s voice and his sister looked down at her lap in shame, trying to escape his critical gaze, while you carefully rolled onto your side to get a better look at both of them.

“Isaac, please.” His name fell gently from your lips, yet with a touch of emphasis. “There’s no guarantee that anything will happen. There’s also a chance we’ll all arrive in Europe safe and sound. It’s good that you’re worried, but I think you’re being a bit too pessimistic right now.”

“No, I think the two of you are being too optimistic,” he countered without hesitation, his eyes meeting yours. “We should have taken the plane. At least that wouldn’t have been a guarantee of death. This, however, is a guarantee, but apparently, you don’t want to understand that.”

Wincing with pain and feeling a sharp ache in your midsection, you sat up, your gaze locking with his fiery one. A look of concern crossed his face at your movement, but you raised an arm and tapped Gomez on the shoulder. He turned his head toward you inquiringly.

“Stop.” Your command was curt and serious.

“What? Why? We’re in the middle of the road!” Addams complained immediately, but Morticia pressed her knee against his to signal that he should do as you said.

“Pull over to the side, please,” you repeated firmly. He complied, steering to the shoulder and hitting the brakes. You pressed down the door handle and stepped out of the car, your boots sinking into the damp grass by the roadside. There was hardly any traffic, so stopping for five minutes shouldn't be a problem. “Come here, Isaac. We should talk.”

You heard him let out a deep sigh but didn't comment on it. Finally, he handed the map to Francoise and stepped out of the car, closing the door behind him. Gravel crunched under his shoes as he approached you. His height meant you had to look up at him and his deep, dark brown eyes were filled with nervousness, even though he likely wouldn't admit it. The Isaac you once knew wore his emotions openly, as if they were written right across his face. This Isaac was different. He bottled his emotions up, hiding them from the world and letting no one glimpse his inner self. Yet you saw right through him. You saw the fear in his eyes— fear he would never admit to feeling.

"You’re afraid." It wasn’t a question. You didn’t need to ask. It was a statement based on what was so clearly visible on his face, as if etched into his pale skin with ink and quill.

But instead of denying his fear, shaking his head, or blaming it on something else, he did something surprising: "Do you blame me? Of course I’m afraid. This boat could mean not just my death, but that of Francoise, Gomez, and Frump, too. Do you think I want that? And what about you? You’d be swallowed by the waves, dragged to the ocean floor, and likely stay there for ages! You’d be damned to drown over and over again, with no hope of rescue. I care, Princess. About you, my sister, about all of them."

Your expression softened, becoming as gentle as love itself, for the truth in his eyes undid you fully. You took a hesitant step toward him to see if he would pull away, but when he didn’t, you seized the moment. Slowly and with all the gentleness you could muster, you wrapped your arms around him and held him close. At first, he was as stiff as a tree. His hands remained motionless at his sides, while yours moved up and down his back. It wouldn’t change the situation, but perhaps it would give him the calm he needed to board that sailboat with you. Something deep inside told you that you would make it. The air smelled of neither rain nor storm. If you were lucky, the crossing would go smoothly.

His shoulders slumped, and suddenly he wrapped his arms around your waist, as if he had been waiting days— no, months— to do so. You could feel his lips against your neck as he buried his face in the crook of it, seeking your warmth, even though your body held none. The rough fabric of his coat chafed against your injured midsection, but thanks to the woolen sweater Fester had given you as a farewell gift and apology, you barely felt the friction. That might also have been due to the painkillers he had given you before the drive.

"Death isn't coming for us. Not yet. Something tells me we’re going to make it," you murmured against his curly hair. A shaky breath escaped him in response to your words, yet he didn't let go. Your eyes closed of their own accord, savoring the contact you had longed for every day, every minute, and every second.

"I want to believe you," he whispered, adding your name at the end as if it were something sacred. "But you aren't a Dove."

An idea made your eyes light up in an instant, and you quickly pulled away from him. Isaac’s eyes followed you in confusion, but when you rapped quickly on the passenger-side window, it dawned on him. There was a Dove in your group who could tell you exactly whether you would live or die if you undertook this venture. Morticia rolled down the window and looked at you both with a knowing gaze and a smile playing on her red lips. The sparkle in her eyes told you she had been watching you both like a hawk and had likely overheard most of your conversation.

"Yes, dear?" she asked, prompting you to simply roll your eyes, even though you loved her like a sister, while Isaac ran a hand over his face.

"Would you be so kind as to use your ability to look into the future and tell us whether we will live or die if we embark on this journey?" you asked with exaggerated politeness, flashing her your most charming smile. Why hadn't you thought of that sooner? You had a clairvoyant with you who could peer into the future at any time, yet it had slipped your mind. Then again, her powers relied on a delicate bond. It wasn't to be tainted or, under any circumstances, abused. Otherwise, the bond would shatter, and one’s strength and power would drain away. In some cases— especially if the individual possessed particularly potent power— it could even lead to death.

"It might take a little while, sweetheart, but for you two lovebirds, I’m happy to do it." Frump winked at you. Her boyfriend chuckled beside her, and suddenly, Isaac reached out from behind to take your hand. You looked back at him with wide eyes, but he offered no explanation. While Morticia closed her eyes and waited for a vision, Isaac pulled you back toward the edge of the woods.

You looked up at him, your eyes wide with questioning. He didn't let go of your hand. In fact, his thumb gently traced circles back and forth across the back of your hand. A question seemed to be weighing on his mind. "Yes? What is it, Isaac?"

"If I were to die—"

"You won't. None of us will—"

"No, please, listen to me now," he interrupted, placing two fingers of his other hand against your lips. It was the same tactic you had used on him in the bathroom when he was examining your wounds. He was certainly a quick learner. "It’s not a question of if. Be honest, what would you do?"

"If you died?" you asked, even though it was obvious. You blinked in confusion. Why would he want to know something like that? You didn't even want to consider the possibility of what might happen if he were taken from you again.

"Yes, what would you do then?" His eyes never left yours for a second and he didn't even blink. The fingers of his left hand were now resting on your jaw, making it hard for you to focus on an answer. He wouldn't like it anyway. After all, you didn't like it either, but you were going to tell the truth.

"I... I don't think I’d wait another five hundred years. Not because my feelings aren't strong enough, because they certainly are, but because I couldn't bear it a second time. I’ve found you again, and I won't let you be taken from me a second time. I forbid you to die, Isaac Night. Because if you go, I’m going with you this time."

The expression on his face was one you couldn't quite place. His lips were slightly parted, his eyes wide, and the sound of his heartbeat that was audible over the wind was faster than it had been just moments before. He blinked slowly, once, then a second time. His fingers traced slowly up the side of your face until they gently caught a strand of your hair and tucked it behind your ear. Heat crept up your neck and spread to your cheeks. Something he would likely notice.

A sudden idea prompted you to lean down and quickly pick up a thick stick, no longer than a forearm. You held it out to him with a smile, but he didn't take it immediately.

"Here, take it. Think of it as a sign of my unwavering trust in you. You’ll have plenty of time during this drive to sharpen the stick and turn it into a proper stake. If we do run into a storm out at sea, you have my permission to use it on me," you explained, offering him an affectionate smile. You would rather meet your end at his hands than at the mercy of the sea or someone like Stonehearst. No, you never wanted to see that man again. You hoped he had learned his lesson and wouldn't come looking for you. He let out a huff, yet his fingers still curled around the stick.

“That is the most macabre gift anyone has ever given me.”

A grin spread across your face as you walked past him back to the car door. Morticia seemed to be in a trance, and Gomez likely wouldn't drive any further while she was in such a delicate state. Of course, you didn't want to die. You loved life. You loved learning new things, watching the world change, and seeing how Outcast culture evolved across the eras. That stake was nothing more than a last resort, though you didn’t expect him to ever actually use it against you.

You yanked open the door to the rear seating area and waved at Francoise, who was dutifully still sitting in her seat. However, the state of the leather seat next to her revealed that she had just been crouching by the window like a spy, watching your every move. You couldn't blame her. You settled back into your seat, having two of them to yourself. Isaac had insisted you lie down to put less strain on the wound. Naturally, you hadn't wanted to argue with him, so you’d done as he said.

"Why did you give my brother a stick?" she giggled curiously, grabbing her seatbelt and quickly buckling up before her big brother got back in.

"It gives him something to keep him occupied," you lied with a grin, though it wasn't entirely a lie. Carving the wood would distract him, taking his mind off the ocean and focusing it solely on the task at hand. You had done the same thing yourself, back before you’d learned of his existence. Whenever you didn't know what to do with yourself, you would either drink wine until you passed out, work on your manuscripts, or paint. Sometimes you would go to the stables and ride out, or simply count the birds in the sky as they flew past the towers of your castle.

To your surprise, when Isaac rejoined you in the car, which didn't belong to any of you, he didn't sit next to Fran, but in the seat beside you. He tossed the future stake onto the leather upholstery next to Francoise at which she looked down at it as if it were a curiosity she didn't quite understand yet. The DaVinci reached for the seatbelt and fastened it tightly before suddenly patting his hand against his thigh. He looked at you. You stared back, not quite grasping what he wanted from you.

"I told you, lying down would be better for your wound than sitting stiffly the whole time. Lie down." He tapped his legs again. Francoise’s eyes darted from you to him and back to you. She, too, couldn't believe what her brother was offering you. She wasn't used to such casual intimacy from him. Actually, she found it a bit unsettling. What had you done to him to turn him into such a romantic all of a sudden? She wondered if the two of you had already kissed in secret or done even more... after all, you had spent quite a long time in that bathroom at Fester’s apartment.

"I don't necessarily have to lie down. I can sit, too! It’s all good," you said quickly, a lump forming in your throat. It would be almost as intimate as what had happened a few hours earlier, when you’d been allowed to taste his blood and he’d licked the traces from the corner of your mouth. The difference was that, back then, you had been alone behind a closed door. Here, his sister was sitting right across from you, and the happy couple wasn't far away in the driver’s and front passenger’s seats.

"Don't be silly," he scoffed, before making a swift movement with his right hand, and suddenly, your head landed right in his lap. A surprised squeak escaped you, yet you didn’t move an inch. His thighs were warm against your cheek, and the fingers stroking your hair made your undead heart beat faster. He was doing this on purpose. He had to be. You had no other explanation for why he suddenly wanted to be so close to you, even though you weren't alone. "Get comfortable, dove."

Even though Fran was watching you and his new nickname for you made your cheeks flush, you nuzzled your cheek against the fabric of his black trousers. You curled your legs slightly, as if settling into the fetal position, and tucked your arms beneath his knees. Your eyes closed, and you couldn't help but hum, since the moment made you feel so peaceful. It was as if there were no problems, no ocean to cross, no destination, no world around you. As if there were only the two of you and the pleasant autumn wind brushing against the tinted windows.

"Speaking of Dove," you heard Morticia say from the front. You felt Isaac’s upper body turn slightly to look at the dark-haired girl, yet his fingers worked a stray lock of hair back into place, and he made no move to banish you from his lap. In fact, the position was incredibly cozy and you were certain you could easily fall asleep right there. "My vision showed me a sunny sky, a calm, clear sea, a very happy vampire princess, and a bridge leading to a castle. I take that to mean we won't go down. Just as I thought. You see, Night? Your worry was for nothing."

"Let's hope so," he grumbled, prompting you to snuggle even closer to him, which immediately drew his attention back to you. His finger wound a strand of your hair around itself over and over before he leaned his head against the backrest and closed his eyes. He simply had to trust your gut feeling and Morticia’s vision. Everything would turn out fine. Even if the odds didn't look good.

"Scurch!" Morticia cried out joyfully, flinging open the car door and running toward the pale-looking butler. Given that he looked exactly like the Frump family’s other butler, you assumed he had to be his twin brother. The girl threw her arms around him, but the man who looked more like a zombie than a human merely grunted softly and turned toward the sailboat, which was still moored to the dock by ropes. Seagulls squawked noisily as they flew overhead. Normies strolled along the harbor; some wore sun hats and shorts, while others already had thick jackets wrapped around their shoulders. Not far away, a man in a sailor suit was selling ice cream. The stand was naturally being swarmed by seagulls hoping to snatch a cone.

"I have a bad feeling about this," sighed Isaac, glaring at the sailboat as if it were a personal insult. It was larger than he had expected, featuring a tall mast with white sails, a spacious deck with brown cedar planking, a ship's wheel straight out of a pirate story, and a door leading to the level below. At the stern, there was an emergency motor just in case a sail tore or the sea grew too rough.

"How about you stop sulking and help us carry these crates below deck instead?" Francoise retorted, playfully jabbing her elbow into his stomach. The blow made him cough as the air was forced from his lungs.

"What’s even in them?" he asked, using his telekinetic powers to levitate one of the heavy crates through the air toward the lower deck. After parking the car and walking along the dock, you had immediately spotted a wall of crates standing next to Scurch, who looked exactly like the butler who was always hovering around Hester. Isaac had seen the old hag only once, but that had been enough to last a lifetime. She was surly, eccentric, unfriendly, and selfish. He could tell just by the way she strutted through Nevermore as if she owned the place; chin always held high, lips twisted into a grimace as though repulsed by the students' friendly faces.

"Food and drink to keep us alive for the next two months, plus a supply of spare clothes and hygiene products so no diseases break out on board," Morticia replied, leaning against the other butler. He was someone she had probably known since childhood. "I didn't even have to order him to do it. He took care of it all on his own. Do we need anything else?"

Morticia glanced around at the group, which consisted only of Isaac, herself, Gomez, and Francoise. Gomez chuckled softly and leaned toward his girlfriend’s ear to whisper something. Isaac watched as a rosy flush slowly spread across her ghostly pale cheeks. Whatever he had said to her was meant for her ears alone.

"Why, what a lovely idea, darling. Why don’t you go and get some?" she replied with a charming smile. Gomez sighed, looking utterly besotted, before walking past Isaac and strutting down the wooden pier. Isaac raised an eyebrow at Frump, but she merely shrugged and grabbed one of the crates that still needed to be stowed away. At that exact moment, you poked your head out the doorway leading into the sailboat’s interior. A smile graced your lips, and a few strands of hair fell across your face.

Isaac had to fight the urge to gently brush them back so they wouldn’t bother you. Your eyes held a sparkle he hadn’t seen since before Aleo’s death, and you wiped your hands on the fabric of your shorts— the very same pair you’d been given back at the apartment. He still felt they didn’t quite suit you, even though he didn’t mind seeing so much of your bare legs. He wondered if the skin there would be as soft as your stomach, whose skin he’d been allowed to touch just hours earlier. That reminded him that he should probably give you some more pain medication soon.

“Aleo is safely stowed away and hidden below deck. We have a cabin serving as the master bedroom with a large bed and plenty of space. There’s another hammock hanging right next to a small window, amidst all the crates, so whoever wants to look outside at night can stay there. Right next to Aleo, there’s a small fold-out bed where someone can sleep, too. And we have one more hammock that can be hung up out here.”

You walked a few steps across the deck and pointed toward the mast and sail. “We’d have to get a bit creative, but we could hang one up here. Otherwise, we’ll have to put the hammock on the floor and get some pillows and a blanket.”

“Who’s sleeping where?” Fran asked the group tentatively. Gomez wasn’t around to weigh in, of course, but it was obvious which room he and his beloved Tish would prefer.

“Well, Gomez and I would take the bedroom,” Morticia suggested. Isaac wasn’t particularly surprised. He crossed his arms over his chest and let his gaze drift skyward. A few seagulls were circling the boat. They could smell the food, or the corpse, or perhaps all the perfume and sachets you’d packed into the crate alongside him. Even though you’d assured everyone that vampiric corpses didn’t decompose, you’d wanted to play it safe anyway. According to you, his body would eventually just crumble into dust. So, what was the point of bringing him along? He was just taking up valuable space.

“Isaac, you’d be best off sleeping below deck,” his little sister advised, pointing toward his chest. He wished he hadn’t already packed your “emergency stake” into a crate, because otherwise, he could have stabbed himself with it right then and there. The prospect certainly appealed to him now.

“I shall take the hammock down by the window,” he muttered under his breath, though still loudly enough for the others to hear. He had no experience with hammocks, boats, or the ocean. It was a fact that, for probably the tenth time that day, made a single thought shoot through his mind: he had a really bad feeling about this odyssey.

“I think I should better sleep out here.” Your voice made Isaac’s head snap toward you, one eyebrow raised in question. Before he could ask for an explanation, however, you offered it yourself: “It will probably get very cold at night, and I’m already dead. Vampires don’t mind the cold. We feel it, but it can’t hurt us. Waves or water won’t do anything to me, either. I’ll sleep out here. That means, Francoise, you have to—”

“Sleep next to Aleo… yeah, I know,” she finished the sentence for you. The older of the two Night siblings didn’t like the idea of her sleeping so close to Cervantes’s corpse, but there wasn’t really an alternative. He just didn’t want the memory of his murder to trigger her Hyde. If Fran transformed while on the boat in the middle of the ocean, there wasn’t much you two could do. He hated the thought of sedating his sister as if she were insane, but in an emergency, the drugs would help. She just couldn’t take too many. He would keep a close eye on that.

You took a slow step toward her and carefully reached out your hand. When she didn’t pull away, he watched as your hand settled gently on her shoulder. Your fingers gave a soft squeeze, and his sister smiled gently in response. His mechanical heart slowed a little as a sense of calm washed over him. You would look out for her, too. You two were friends, even after everything that had happened. He would almost consider it a miracle, if he didn’t know that miracles didn’t exist. But then again, he hadn’t always believed in reincarnation either, and now he was presumably the only living proof of it. So, what was there left to believe in these days?

A thought suddenly struck him, making him roll his eyes, and he turned toward Fran, who was just about to scurry below deck like a swift spider. “Morticia, now that we’re all stuck together like this, I certainly hope you and Gomez will keep it down at night, right?”

“For the next two months? Oh, you really don’t know us at all,” she replied with a smirk that made his blood boil. Not only would he be in constant mortal danger for the foreseeable future, but he’d also be sleep-deprived if Gomez and Morticia were fucking night after night.

“You can’t be serious,” he said, but Morticia merely shook her head and promptly vanished down the small set of stairs into the shadows that led inside her terrible mother’s sailboat.

“And you two aren’t going to say anything?” he asked, turning to you and Fran, who were still standing side by side, having listened to the exchange with amusement. When no answer came, he just scoffed, expelling all the air he’d been holding in his lungs. “If I jump off the boat myself in a few weeks, you’ll know why.”

Gomez returned ten minutes later carrying a white bag, its contents unidentifiable to you. However, judging by what Isaac had said and what Morticia had hinted at, Addams had most likely stocked up on enough condoms to last the next two months at sea. You chuckled softly to yourself and shook your head. You knew this behavior all too well. You and Isaac had been exactly the same way back then. Every day, every night, in bed, on the sofa, against the wall, in the garden, everywhere. That had been five hundred years ago, though, and you were now more than ready to become a nun, given that your sexual needs had gone unsatisfied for that entire span of time. After all, the love of your life hadn't been there to fulfill them.

Every crate was stowed below deck, Gomez was back, and you had everything needed for survival, which Scurch seemed to realize as well. The Frump family’s second butler grabbed the ropes securing the boat to the dock amidst the others and cast them off. Morticia waved to him, calling out a warning not to tell her mother anything. Francoise leaned against the railing, wide-eyed as the boat’s hull cut through the water, and Isaac was nowhere to be found on deck. Limping slightly, one hand pressed against your aching midsection— you were in dire need of another dose of the medicine Night had given you hours earlier— you made your way to the bow. The wind caught your hair and made your eyes water. It had been so long since you were last on a ship.

The last time was nearly a century ago on a vessel far larger than this one and it had nearly sunk. You didn't believe in God anymore, yet for the first time in ages, your gaze drifted upward to the sky, and you found yourself thinking: Please, God, please let us make it through this. I haven’t asked you for anything in years, but I beg this one thing of you. Let us survive this.

A soft melody drifting from the portable radio was carried across the deck by the wind as you made your way below. It hab been Francoise’s idea to bring it for warding off boredom. The other three were up by the helm, which Gomez was steering dramatically, as if he were the captain of a 17th-century ship sailing for home. It was dark below deck. A little daylight streamed through the three round portholes spaced along the wooden walls, but otherwise, it was dim. While laughter, music, and birdsong lightened the mood above, down here it was as quiet as a graveyard. Your shoes made soft sounds against the wooden floorboards as you walked, your eyes searching the darkness for the object of your desire.

The sound of a knife scraping against wood brought a small grin to your face. You found Isaac Night lying in his black hammock, which swayed gently from side to side with the motion of the waves. His coat and boots lay on the floor beneath him. He was dressed only in his cozy wool sweater and trousers. His curls framed his face, and a look of concentration was set upon his features. He looked strikingly beautiful like this, relaxed and calm.

"Sharpening your weapon, I see?" you said softly. He didn't startle when your voice suddenly emerged from the darkness beside him, which meant he must have heard you coming. You had thought you were being quiet enough, but apparently, nothing escaped Isaac’s notice.

"More like passing the time until evening," he replied. He wasn't holding the stick you’d picked up from the roadside between his slender fingers. Instead, it hovered in the air before him, while the knife also moved up and down as if by magic. His right hand was raised lazily, and only his index finger moved slowly up and down in sync with the knife.

"But wouldn't it be smarter to sleep now, while Morticia and Gomez are still up on deck? You could get some rest now and you will have to take the helm later anyway, while Tish and he... well, you know, spend the night together?" Your suggestion was gentle and sincere. Of course, you would be up on deck with him later, too, so if he did fall asleep, you would take over the task for him.

"Then again, perhaps I’d like to spend the night with someone, too?" The words escaped him without a hint of shame, and he cast a lingering sideways glance at you that made you swallow hard. Did he mean...? No, he wouldn't initiate something like that right now. Or would he? Was he shameless enough to hint that he might give his heart to you tonight? You could hardly believe it. No, he probably meant something completely harmless instead.

"Oh, do you want to watch them in the act?" you replied with a playful grin, which spread across your whole face and lit up your features. It felt good to joke with him and see him being so open with you. You could still clearly remember a time not so long ago, when he had pushed you away time and time again and, presumably, hated you. Now, however, here you were.

“Don’t even joke about that, dear princess. Even though I’m sure it would be incredibly exciting, I’d rather spend my evening in peace and quiet,” he said, as the stick dropped onto the fabric of the hammock beside him. He folded the knife shut and slipped it into his right trouser pocket. Where he’d gotten it, why he carried a knife, and how long he’d had it were, frankly, a mystery to you. In fact, you couldn’t recall ever seeing him with a knife before. A Da Vinci’s abilities were weapon enough in your opinion.

His dark, chocolate-brown eyes roamed over your figure for a moment before he propped himself up slightly on his elbows to get a better look at you. Isaac tilted his head, causing a ringlet of hair to fall right over his left eye. He tried to blow it away in annoyance, but it immediately fell back into place, continuing to bother him and partially block his view. He looked absolutely mouthwatering right now.

“Why did you come here? I thought you might prefer the view of the vast horizon,” Night asked with a hint of curiosity in his velvety voice that held a slight, raspy edge.

“I have spent many nights staring out at the horizon, but back then, I had a reason to. Why should I do it now, when the horizon is so close that I only need to reach out my hand and touch him? If I am looking at him right now with my own eyes?”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward at your words, and he shook his head. Yet, there was nothing annoyed or angry in the gesture. Quite the opposite, he actually seemed amused. Had it not been so dark, you might have glimpsed the flush of red spreading across his pale cheeks. “You’re a hopeless romantic.”

“I have succumbed to the longing for love, certainly, but tell me... is my yearning truly hopeless?”

His eyes met yours, and in that instant, you felt the bond between you pull even tighter than before. It felt like pulling the wrong end of a ribbon: instead of it coming undone, it cinched into a knot, firm and nearly impossible to untie. Your throat tightened at the dark expression in his eyes, which usually held a speck of golden honey at their center. Now they seemed almost black, even though daylight still streamed through the small, round windows.

“I don’t think so,” he answered you, making a movement with his right hand that drew you a few centimeters closer to the hammock. Heat rushed to your cheeks, causing your pupils to dilate and your mouth to go dry. Your fingers gripped the edge of his bed— a movement he watched intently. The rhythmic ticking of his clockwork heart suddenly seemed deafeningly loud in the shrinking space between you. Though this Isaac and your Isaac were fundamentally different yet the same, this one possessed a talent you had never anticipated. Your late lover had certainly been charming, but the man whose eyes you were now gazing into made your blood boil, awakening a desire to surrender yourself completely, to give him your life, and at the same time to cut out your own heart so you might offer it to him as proof of your undying love.

"So, do you think there’s still a chance I might find myself back in my lover’s arms? That I’ll feel his lips caressing mine? That it won’t just be loneliness and the chill of the coming winter haunting my home?" You whispered the words with a sense of hope you hadn't felt in a long time. You remembered Versailles and the hope you’d held that you would find Isaac there. In the end, you had been disappointed. Would you be disappointed this time, too?

"That chance grows with every moment you spend in my presence," he replied, and your heart leapt in your chest as the dark brown of his eyes settled on your lips.

You blinked, shaken from your trance as his hand unexpectedly moved to his trouser pocket and fished out a small box of pills. He held it out to you as if you had told him from the start that you’d come to him because of your pain, even though you hadn't said a word about it.

"Come on, don't look at me like that. I heard you limping the moment you came down here. You’d best take two. That should see you through the night," he advised honestly, extending the box further toward you as if it were the answer to all your problems— admittedly, right then it was the answer to some of your problems, though certainly not all of them.

You carefully took the package and slid out the plastic blister pack containing the individually embedded pills. Slowly, you pressed two of them out and balanced them on your palm while neatly closing the package again. The two pills were about the size of peas, so you likely wouldn't have any trouble swallowing them whole. In truth, you hadn't quite warmed up to the idea of pills yet. You came from a time when such things didn't exist and when you either swallowed medicinal herbs or simply had to endure the pain. But since they seemed to help, you didn't want to refuse them.

You were just about to raise them to your mouth when, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Isaac extending his left arm toward you. His sleeve was already rolled up, and the blue-purple veins beneath his pale skin stood out temptingly. "In case you need something to drink."

A slow blink was followed by an honest smile that spread across your face like sunshine, before you placed the pills in the center of your tongue and swallowed them down in one go. You could feel them sliding down your esophagus, hoping they would soon take effect in your stomach. "Perhaps later? I certainly wouldn't say no to a midnight snack."

He just smirked back, prompting you to playfully raise your eyebrows only to lower them again the very next second. You turned and disappeared toward the back of the boat to rummage through the crates for something useful. Night remained in his hammock. Yet, while his right hand reached for his pocketknife again, his left hand brushed over the front of his trousers, hoping to conceal what was actually glaringly obvious— he was hard.

The day's final rays of sunlight illuminated the deck as the sun slowly slipped beneath the seemingly endless horizon, making way for its companion, the moon. A melody now drifted from the stern of the sailing ship, sung by a highly charismatic female voice that pleaded, over and over, for someone to call her any day and night. You found yourself swaying your shoulders and tapping your foot to the rhythm of the tune. At times, you even hummed along while trying to memorize the lyrics. Before this song, a male voice on the radio had announced that the weather forecast was surprisingly good for the season, with neither rain nor storms expected anytime soon.

"Call me, my love, call me, call me any, anytime," you sang softly along as you watched the sun go down. The sun’s lower edge kissed the mirror-like surface of the blue ocean, and for a moment, it looked as though the entire sea were bathed in liquid gold. You gazed at nature’s beauty with sparkling eyes until, after a few seconds, the sun vanished and the deep blue of the twilight sky mirrored the blue of the sea.

You rested your elbows on the railing and sighed softly as a new song began to play on the radio. In the background, you could hear Francoise moving quietly across the deck, lighting the scattered lamps placed here and there on the floorboards. One hung from the mast while another stood beside the helm; yet for Gomez, the view of the ocean mattered less than the view of Morticia, who was reading a book while leaning against the woodwork, a sun hat pulled low over her pale face. It all seemed like a vacation to them— though you suspected they had certainly earned it. Nevermore’s curriculum was demanding: Morticia was taking a fencing class on the side, Isaac was busy with his own experiments and the Nevermore Science Club, Francoise was trying her hand at dancing, and Gomez… was Gomez. You, so far, had shown little interest in joining a club that was meant to be nothing more than a hobby. Your mind was already occupied, you had no time for another hobby, and in all likelihood, you would never return to Nevermore anyway. Not after everything that had happened over the course of that single school year.

"Do you need help hanging up your hammock?" Fran asked kindly, holding the white fabric in her arms as if cradling an infant against her chest.

You gave her a grateful smile and nodded gently. "That would be very kind of you, thanks."

You spent the next ten minutes rigging up the sheet, wrapping one end around the railing and securing the other to the ship’s mast. You climbed in to test it and while it wasn't exactly the most comfortable setup, it held your weight. Francoise took a turn next, and even after rolling around a few times, she didn't manage to undo the knots you’d tied. But then, something unexpected happened. She tapped you on the shoulder and said, "You're it."

You didn't understand at first until she suddenly sprinted away as if struck by lightning. The boat wasn't very big, and she looked back at you with a grin. That was when it clicked. A smile spread across your face, too, and you took off running. She managed to dodge you at first and circled the mast, but you cut across to the other side, forcing her to scramble up the three-step staircase toward the stern. You leapt up the three steps on the other side in a single bound. You nearly lost your balance but managed to steady yourself at the last moment. Gomez gasped in surprise and instinctively pressed himself against the helm, while Morticia looked up over the edge of her book, her eyes wide and the corners of her red mouth curling into an amused smile. It was the first day at sea, and you had already lost your minds.

Francoise tried to turn around, but you had already grabbed her arm. She laughed and high-fived you. Still grinning broadly— though slightly out of breath— you jumped back down the steps, trying to escape the Hyde girl who was now chasing you. Your plan had been to run forward, outmaneuver her, and then disappear into the hold below. However, it didn't come to that. Morticia came running toward you from the other side, and both girls tackled you to the ground at once.

The three of you lay laughing in a heap on the wooden floorboards, but even the creaking couldn't drown out your laughter. Nearby, Gomez clapped his hands to cheer on his beloved, and Isaac poked his head out of the shadow-shrouded corridor, looking visibly confused.

He looked concerned. You laughed the loudest.

Silence wrapped around you like a warm blanket as you sat alone on the deck of the Eulalie, which was now the name of the boat you had chosen together, inspired by one of Edgar Allan Poe’s famous poems. The deck beneath your bare legs was cool, though not unpleasantly so. The hammock swayed gently behind you in the light breeze, while candlelight made shadows dance across your surroundings and the soft flickering felt like a melody you were all too happy to listen to. Resting your chin on your knee, you gazed up at the sky. It had long been no secret that you were captivated by the stars.

What you couldn't see were the two faces watching you from the companionway leading to the lower deck. Gomez Addams and Isaac Night were hiding in the shadows, though only one of them had a clear plan. Gomez had found a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses in the small refrigerator in his and Morticia’s bedroom. He had already uncorked the bottle and was now quietly pouring the wine into both glasses. A sweet aroma drifted on the wind across the length of the sailboat, causing Isaac to wrinkle his nose.

"I don't usually drink alcohol, and you know that," he whispered to his best friend, who merely rolled his eyes and pressed the two filled glasses into Isaac's hands.

"You can allow yourself one evening, can't you, amigo? It’ll help you loosen up, and that’ll make your plan a whole lot easier. Trust me," he replied, draping a cherry-red blanket over Isaac's arm as well. When Isaac looked at him with a questioning, raised eyebrow, he simply groaned. “The wine will loosen things up, and you can drape the blanket over her shoulders to keep her warm.”

“She’s a vampire, you moron,” Night hissed, but Gomez responded by zapping him with a small, harmless electric shock from his finger, making him flinch. He shot his roommate a dark look, which the other countered with a slight grin.

“Trust me, she’ll love it. Wine, a blanket, candlelight, some alone time, and nothing but the stars above as your witnesses. Sounds terribly romantic, doesn’t it?” Addams teased. Isaac felt the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose— a difficult feat, given that he was holding two glasses and balancing a blanket on his left arm.

“It sounds like something out of a cheesy romance novel,” he complained, prompting a chuckle from the other boy.

“That’s exactly how it’s supposed to feel!” He gave Isaac a pat on the back, causing the wine in the glasses to slosh dangerously close to the rim at which Isaac’s eyes widened in silent panic. Before he could move toward you, he felt Addams slip something into his trouser pocket. But before he could ask what it was, Addams gave him a push in your direction. “You’re going to need this. Go on. Get your girl.”

Isaac took a deep breath to steady his nerves as his heart was racing, before slowly approaching you. He was dressed casually in just socks, comfortable trousers, and a white T-shirt that was a size too big. His hair was uncombed, falling messily across his forehead. You, too, were dressed in comfortable loungewear. You were sitting barefoot on the floor in front of your makeshift bed, wearing a simple white nightgown that fell just above your knees, gazing up at the sky. Your hair hung loose, allowing the breeze to play gently with the strands— something he, too, longed to do.

He cleared his throat a short distance behind you, causing your head to whip around toward him with owl-like speed. The look of surprise on your face softened instantly, however, when you saw he had brought gifts. The candle that was encased in glass with wax steadily trickling down the side cast a golden glow across his profile that made your palms grow sweaty.

"You’ve been sitting here alone for quite a while," he began, though he mentally kicked himself for his poor choice of words. He should have started with something more romantic or seductive. Stupid.

"I’m enjoying the quiet and the atmosphere," you told him with a smile, a remark that gave him a lump in his throat. Though you certainly weren't one, you looked angelic in the soft light of the night.

"Do I have your permission to enjoy it with you?"

You nodded, and Isaac moved to your side, careful not to spill the wine. He handed you the glasses before sitting down on the floor next to you and turning his gaze toward the sky. His lips parted slightly and he stared bewildered, seeing for the first time that evening just how incredibly clear the night sky over the ocean was. A thousand tiny stars were scattered across the darkness like freckles, their reflections shimmering on the surface of the water through which your boat was gliding. After a few moments, he composed himself and took the blanket from his arm, gently draping it around your shoulders.

"You could use that more than I could, Isaac. I’m already dead," you reminded him with a smile, though the gesture deeply touched you. Neither heat nor cold could harm you, even though you could still feel them. You were far more accustomed to the cold than to the summer heat, given that your castle lay in the heart of the Carpathians, where endless winter snows would wrap the world in a blanket of white. Such winters were beautiful in your homeland. Back then, you hadn't been able to share that beauty with Isaac, but now— if fate was kind— you would be arriving in Transylvania just as winter set in.

"Here, look, this works too," he said, wrapping an arm around your back; using his telekinesis, he guided the right side of the blanket over his own shoulders so that you were sharing it.

"The wine was Gomez’s idea, wasn’t it? I heard him whispering earlier," you asked with a knowing glint in your eyes. He could lie now, but what would be the point?

"Yes, he gave it to me. I don’t usually drink alcohol because my father... he was fond of the bottle. It was never a pleasant situation for us." His admission was quiet but honest. He no longer had any reason to hide parts of his past from you, given how openly you had shared yours with him, allowing him glimpses of it, even though it stretched back hundreds of years. It wasn't just time and experience that lay between you, but a history he barely knew. You knew every word, every second, every tiny anecdote. He knew your face. He wanted more.

"We don't have to drink if you don't want to. I- I was actually addicted at one point."

Isaac blinked in surprise, but before he could reply, you continued: "There was a point when I was so lonely and simply didn't know what to do with my time, so I started drowning it. I drank day and night. The wine was mixed with blood, which was Aleo’s idea. He’d brought it back from Italy. I was repulsive back then, disgusting. The worst part is, it wasn't even that long ago. It wasn't until I found out you were back that I became myself again. I didn't want to numb myself anymore. I wanted to feel. I yearned for every single emotion be it joy, longing, or pain. I was so incredibly happy to learn you had returned."

The boy beside you instinctively leaned closer and made a small movement with his ring finger to wrap the blanket tighter around your shoulders. This time, however, it wasn't to ward off the cold, but the sorrow that so often plagued you. He had never taken the time to consider what it must have been like for you all those years. There had been a time when a single year felt like an eternity to him. He could hardly imagine what five hundred must have felt like. After all, you could never have known for certain if he would ever actually come back. "And then you came to the Nevermore to be reunited with your lover... and I didn’t recognize you," he concluded, a deep sigh escaping him. Had he been in your shoes, he would have grabbed you by the shoulders at that first meeting and demanded that you remember. You had done nothing of the sort. You had waited. You never forced yourself on him. There could be no greater proof of your love for him.

"It's all right," you whispered softly. "I mean, we are here now. I'd say the situation has changed a bit. I mean, you're bringing me wine and a blanket. You got on this boat. You tended to my injuries when Fester did it wrong."

A silence settled between you for a few moments, but it was one that was anything but uncomfortable. Slowly, you rested your head on his shoulder and he stroked your arm up and down. His gaze drifted slowly back up to the expanse of the sky. "Why the stars?"

"Hm?" you asked softly, confused by the sudden change of subject.

"I’ve been watching you. You’ve been sitting here for two hours, staring at the sky as if it could give you answers. Sometimes, at night, I have seen you alone from the window of my tower, wandering into the woods. You spent hours out there. What is so special about them?" His voice was barely a whisper, yet filled with such curiosity that the thought of lying didn't even cross your mind.

"I’ve always loved them. Even when I was just a young girl. I used to spend my nights staring out the window of my chambers, counting the constellations. I even liked to invent my own. It was known throughout the court that I was obsessed with the night sky. That’s why a certain young lord I met piqued my interest. He built me a telescope. It was the first gift he ever gave me, and of them all, it was probably the one I loved the most." A melancholic smile played at the corners of your mouth as you recounted this old story. It had been so long, yet you could remember that summer day as if it were yesterday. The look on his face when you stepped through the swaying willow leaves, curious as a newborn fawn… you’d never forget it.

You set the two glasses of wine on the ground in front of you before reaching a hand up toward the crescent moon, which had taken the sun's place. Your fingers danced as you traced the invisible lines from star to star. Isaac’s eyes followed your fingers, captivated. He simply watched for a few seconds before gently enclosing your digits within his own. You looked at him with surprise, and he offered you a smile that was neither playful nor unkind, but honest and tender.

Your fingers carefully interlaced with his, and you gave his hand a small squeeze, just to test whether you were dreaming this moment. For a fleeting second, you had feared you might have fallen asleep while stargazing, but the sensation of his lukewarm fingers against your cold ones proved otherwise.

"At least I was able to give you the stars back then," he whispered, his warm breath brushing against your face. "Right now, there is nothing I could give you."

"Yes, there is," you said without hesitation. "There is something."

"Tell me," he urged gently. He lowered your joined hands slightly, holding them between your bodies.

Instead of answering with words, you slowly moved your free hand toward him. His chocolate-brown gaze followed the movement intently, his breath hitching as your fingers came to rest on his chest, right over the spot where his clockwork heart was embedded in his flesh. Even though a thin layer of white fabric lay between your fingers and that delicate mechanism, no one else had ever come this close to his heart. He wouldn't have let anyone else.

"You can give me your heart. Just as I would give you mine." You released his hand and guided it to your own chest instead, pressing his palm ever so lightly against your heart. Even though you were undead, he could still feel a heartbeat beneath your ribs.

"It’s yours," your voice was barely more than a breath. "It has always been yours."

Logic no longer mattered to Isaac. His brilliant mind refused to cooperate, and his non-existent heart took the reins. So, he did the only right thing that came to mind in that moment: he kissed you.

For a moment, everything around you fell silent. You couldn't move, you couldn't breathe, you couldn't think. It had taken five hundred years— half a millennium— that had nearly driven you mad, and now here you were, aboard a small ship in the middle of the ocean, and Isaac was kissing you as if not a single day had passed. As if you were still sitting in the grass beneath the Willow Tree, sheltered by the darkness with only the stars as your witnesses. Two of those things held true, except that you were now in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, with waves instead of trees as your backdrop.

Your eyes closed, and your hands found the fabric of his shirt, holding it gently between your fingers. The kiss was nothing but gentleness and tenderness, which you returned with the slow movements of your mouth against his. Eventually, it was Isaac who pressed his lips more firmly against yours, as if silently asking for permission. You parted your lips for him and let his tongue slip inside. Its tip met yours with an air of inexperience. Even though you had a bit more experience, after all, you still remembered all the evenings you had shared, that had been an eternity ago, and you, too, had to relearn intimacy. His cool hands found your cheeks, cupping them as lovingly as if you were a precious vase rather than the girl he loved.

A thin thread of saliva still connected your mouth to his when, after a few seconds, he finally leaned back, breathing heavily. His hands didn't move an inch from your face, and his dark eyes searched every inch of your features for a sign that what he had just done was welcome. His breath came in quick gasps, and his eyes darted about as you simply looked at him. He wanted words. He needed confirmation, validation, something.

"Took you long enough," you finally whispered, prompting a wolfish grin to break out across his handsome face. His cheeks and nose were slightly flushed from the night air and, likely, from the emotions stirring within his clockwork heart.

His lips met yours again. Then again, again and again. "I’ve wanted to do that since the moment you first walked into Iago Tower. Since you challenged me in class. Fucking hell… maybe even from the first time I saw you sitting at that table in the courtyard. In your pretty coat with your two stupid suitcases... fuck, I’ve wanted you."

Your hands wandered into his hair as he sought out your mouth again after every word. His curls were as soft as you remembered, and you couldn't help but wind them around your fingers as he slowly pressed you down onto the floor, hovering over you. His brown eyes met yours, and the tip of his nose brushed gently against your own. Your left elbow nudged one of the wine glasses slightly aside, yet you had no fear of it tipping over. In that very moment, you were afraid of absolutely nothing in the world.

"Do you have any idea just how completely you’ve wrapped me around your finger?" You shook your head, and he lowered his face to find a home against your neck, promptly sinking his teeth into your delicate skin. "You must be an enchantress... for ever since you came into my life, I dream of nothing but you. I close my eyes, and even in my dreams you haunt me— bewitching and seducing me— and I wake in the morning with the shame of that dream clinging to my thighs."

A sharp moan escaped you as Isaac actually sank his teeth into the spot where your neck met your shoulder. His tongue flicked out instantly to soothe any pain he might have caused, before he leaned back in and sucked hard on your reddened skin. Your fingers tugged at his hair, a move he answered with a deep grunt. Your mind was far from clear or sharp, yet you didn't need to be a genius to feel the growing erection pressing against your hip. Your gaze caught the crescent moon above you, and you couldn't help but smile.

“Even Gomez noticed, you know? He isn’t even there most nights, but whenever he was, he had to confess to me in the morning how I’d supposedly writhed and moaned like a damsel in distress. All. Your. Fault.” His hand curled around your throat, and you could swear you had never felt as hot as you did in that moment in time.

“Tell me I haunted you, too. That you dreamed of this as well.” Isaac leaned up to meet your gaze, and what you saw stole your breath away. His lips were slightly swollen from the kisses, his look manic.

“I…” It took a moment for you to find your voice again. “I didn’t need to dream about it. I’d already lived it.”

A huff left him, his thumb moving back and forth over your Adam’s apple before he pressed just a little harder. Your hips instinctively bucked up against his, which he rewarded with a moan of his own. “I knew it. Those little moments I keep seeing whenever you got too close to me, they were probably the same thing as those dreams: memories. You were sending me memories.”

“I did no such thing,” you replied honestly, while skillfully winding one leg around his hip like a snake to pull him even closer. “You can blame fate for it.”

“I think it’s right beneath me, looking up at me with big, beautiful eyes,” he murmured before planting another trail of kisses along your jawline, the sensations making your eyes roll back and stole the breath from your lungs. “So I thank you. Thank you, my love. Thank you for tormenting me so.”

“Isaac!” You gasped his name, your fingers sinking into his scalp and the heel of your foot pressing harder against his lower back.

He quickly pressed his mouth against yours again to stifle the sweet sounds escaping you because of his touch. Even though he would love to hear them over and over again he worried you might get too loud. The same went for him. He was already hard and you were both still fully clothed. Where was this leading?

“Shhh, Princess. As much as I want to hear you and as much as I want to shout my own approval, I don’t want the wrong ears to hear.”

“Oh, I doubt Gomez and Morticia would mind. I’m sure they’re probably having a lot of fun right now and… and...”

His fingers, slowly wandering from your neck down across your collarbone, threw you off track, and you lost the thread of what you were about to say. He was so gentle in every touch that the mere sensation was incredibly erotic to you. It took no force, no roughness, to make your back arch for him like a cat and your sweet song reach his ears like a siren’s call. His thumb slid just far enough beneath the fabric of your nightgown for his thumbnail to graze your skin, eliciting a whimper from your throat.

“I’m not worried about them right now. They wouldn’t hear it anyway, over the sounds of their own animalistic trysts. I just don’t want my sister finding out about our nocturnal activities.” His voice was even softer than his touch as he whispered into your ear, his thumb still toying with the fabric of the only garment covering your body. "Can you do that? Can you be quiet for me?"

"I’ll do my best. But will you be able to?" you replied playfully, fluttering your eyelashes, the gesture making him lick his lips.

"What do I get from you if I manage it?" Night asked in return, burying his nose in your hair, which smelled of sea salt and a hint of flowers. He found himself wondering what your favorite flowers might be.

"I’ve already given you my heart, so only my body is left," you answered with a grin. "Do you accept?"

"Only a fool would say no to that. Of course I accept," he murmured back before slowly moving downward, pressing his cheek gently against the softness of your breast. Your skin was as soft as flower petals. His own fingers were rough from working on machines and tinkering with small parts to bring his creations to life.

He slid one arm beneath your hips to pull you even closer, even though you offered him no physical warmth. Something deep within him cried out for closeness, for union. He wanted you so close that you would merge with him, your bodies becoming one. Every fiber of his being craved you, wanted you.

He spoke your name with such reverence that a shiver ran down your spine and goosebumps rose on your shoulders. "I need you. May I have you? Please?"

Even before he had finished his request, you were already nodding encouragingly. Candles flickered around you; the wine in the glasses sat untouched and forgotten, while the warm blanket lay half beneath you on the floor and the rest beside you. The swell of the waves was calm and steady, the sky clear and cloudless. It was as if this night belonged solely to the two of you.

"Please," you whispered. "I want you too, Isaac. I always have. I always will. I... I love you."

He blinked in surprise and his lips parted, before he nodded. Isaac licked his lips as he slowly moved the sleeve of your nightgown down your arm. Every centimeter felt like an eternity, his breath felt incredibly hot against your skin, and your heart hammered faster than ever within your chest. He then moved to the other side and began gently sliding the sheer sleeve down as well, until the fabric settled at the crooks of your elbows. The nightgown now hung low across your chest, revealing the soft curves of your breasts, which he slowly traced with his mouth. Your eyes closed instinctively, and you had to stifle your whimpers by biting your cheek as Isaac mouthed at one of your hardened nipples through the fabric. His saliva made the thin material turn almost transparent. You could feel him growing even harder as he slowly grinding his hips against yours in search of friction.

"You’re so soft," he whispered, finally pulling the fabric completely away from your chest and arms, leaving you covered only from the hips down. For a moment, he leaned back on his hands to admire the work of art lying beneath him— vulnerable, trusting, more beautiful than a midsummer night's dream, and all his.

Even though heat rose in your cheeks and you felt the urge to press your arms across your chest, you held his gaze and did nothing of the sort.

"You are beautiful," he whispered breathlessly, and the way he looked at you told you he meant it with all his heart. You were likely the most beautiful being he had ever seen and not simply because you were the first woman he had ever seen naked. You were simply perfect. The shape of your body, the curve of your hips, the fullness of your breasts, and everything else besides. He saw no flaw in you. If he were working on a scientific thesis about beauty, you would be his model, his example, and his proof all rolled into one.

"Just like you, my darling," you said without hesitation, placing a hand against his cheek at which he immediately leaned into your touch. He would never dream of turning away your affection again.

Your hands slid beneath the fabric of his shirt, making him visibly shudder. You inched the fabric higher and higher until he willingly raised his arms, allowing you to pull the shirt over his head. Without caring where it might land, you tossed it aside before wrapping your arms around his neck like vines, pulling him close against you. His skin felt slightly warm against your own, and you bit your lip with your sharp fangs as his hand wandered to his waistband. His mouth returned to your chest, his teeth sinking gently into your aroused nipple.

Isaac struggled to undo his belt with one hand, but his fingers were skilled. He pulled the leather free and laid it on the planks beside your ethereal form. His cock ached with the intensity of his need for you. He had never been so aroused or desperate for anyone, yet as always you brought out the worst in him. Because of you, he was a murderer, and now, he was desperate as hell and in need to fuck.

After fumbling for several seconds, he managed to undo the buttons of his simple black trousers and pull them down far enough to free his cock. It was hard, long, and fully aroused, with beads of pearlescent pre-cum forming at the tip. You tilted your head to look past his own head and see the object of your desire down below, where your bodies nearly met. Even though your memory wasn't perfect in every detail, you were certain that his manhood hadn't changed a bit. He was gorgeous.

He gave himself a few quick, desperate strokes with his fist before grabbing the hem of your nightgown to pull it up. A hand on his forearm stopped him, and he looked at you with confused eyes, blinking questioningly. "Have you changed your mind?"

"No, no, it’s fine, my love. I just want to see all of you. Every part of you," you whispered breathlessly. Night nodded so vigorously that, for a moment, you worried he might give himself whiplash.

"Not all of me is pretty, you know?" he murmured as he slid his trousers and boxers down his long, slender legs. You followed suit, slipping off your nightgown and panties. You didn’t need to look to know you were wet. You could feel the dampness between your thighs, and your clit was already throbbing, craving friction. You were tempted to reach down and flick yourself, but that would spoil the fun. You wanted him to make you come on his fingers or his cock— both options sounded like heaven right then.

"I don't see a single flaw," you said honestly. "I love everything about you."

He quickly leaned over you again, pressing another deep kiss to your lips before taking one of your legs and wrapping it around his hip. Your eyes rolled back briefly and you let out a gasp as the head of his cock slid into your wet cunt. "So wet for me… You’re going to be the death of me. But you know that, don’t you?"

"Just as you are going to be mine," you gasped out. You had completely forgotten the pain caused by your new scars, yet he still seemed mindful of them. He made no attempt to shift his full weight onto you or touch the tender areas on your stomach in any way. It had been an eternity since the last time you’d done this.

And now, you couldn't wait any longer. You moved your hips to meet his, but he just grinned at you, enjoying the sight of your desperation. He still couldn’t believe that this was all for him. That your body was lying beneath his like an altar, though he intended to do very sinful things to you. Perhaps not all of them tonight, but there was nothing holy about this union.

When he finally pushed inside you, you couldn't help but let a high-pitched sound escape the confines of your throat, your mouth forming his name. Your hands dug into his pale shoulders as he rested his forehead against yours. Isaac’s breathing came in heavy, ragged gasps, and you could feel how hard he was fighting to hold back from simply taking what his body craved. The silky walls of your cunt fluttered and pulsed around him, making his cock throb inside you in response. You could clearly feel every subtle vein along the side of his base. You were both so lost in the moment, so captivated, that Isaac had completely forgotten the condom Gomez had slipped into his pocket earlier. The boy had been right about where this night would lead.

"Move, Isaac, please," you pleaded breathily. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and began to carefully move his hips against yours. You were wrapped tight and hot around him, nearly causing him to lose control at once. He had never slept with a girl before, so it was incredibly difficult for him to keep his composure and not finish too quickly. After all, he didn't want to disappoint you.

"You- agh!-you feel heavenly," Isaac groaned against your neck, gradually picking up the pace. A fine sheen of sweat formed on his forehead, and he couldn't help but bite into your flesh to keep himself from losing it.

"Don’t stop!" you gasped close to his ear, meeting his thrusts with your own hips as best you could. The movement caused him to suddenly drive even deeper, striking a particularly sensitive spot inside you that made your back arch and your toes curl. "Isaac!"

Isaac forgot the rule he had voiced just moments before— be quiet— because he could no longer control himself. His groans spilled out of him like water from a spring, and he couldn't help but chase the climax you both craved so desperately. One of his hands cupped your breast again, squeezing and massaging the soft flesh, while his fingers flicked against the hard nub. In response, you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, your slender fingers tangling in his soft hair and tugging at his curls, as if you could pull him even deeper inside you.

His clockwork heart raced in his chest, and had he not known better, he would have feared he was about to faint. But, oh, he wouldn't even be angry to die right here, pushed snugly inside your cunt, with your fingers grasping at the strands of his hair as if they’d personally wronged you, and your bodies entwined in a sinful dance.

"I’ve missed this… Oh, I don’t know how I’ve managed so long without this. Without you!" you managed to say, even though your breathing was rapid and your mind was filled with nothing but the sensation of him moving inside you. His thrusts grew sloppier by the second, losing their rhythm. He was close. You couldn't blame him because you too were so close to the hot cord that had been tightening in your stomach bursting open and you would be overwhelmed with ecstasy. All you needed was a little push to fall over the edge.

“Fuck, princess, me neither,” he moaned, burying his head in the valley between your breasts again, while his hands now settled at your hips to somehow push you even closer against him. Your bodies had felt close before, but now it was truly as if you were one. As if your bodies and your soul had merged. It was a feeling you hoped would never find its conclusion. "Don't know why I've been so stubborn. I should've let you do this weeks ago."

“I love you,” you repeated breathlessly. “I love you, I love you, I—”

Isaac cried out your name brokenly, his hips stuttering inside you, while hot ropes of cum spurted inside your clenching pussy. He was moaning your name over and over again and he kept moving against you, even as his dick was softening and he felt the exhaustion settling deep over himself. The moment his cum flooded your walls, your eyes rolled into the back of your head and a sound that was half cry and half whimper left you as your cunt clenched around him and the very stars you held so dearly exploded right on front of your eyelids.

At first moment everything was still. The world around you ceased to exist. There was only you, your body trembling like a leaf in the wind, and Isaac, lying on top of you like a weighted blanket. You both breathed heavily, your hearts beating in unison, struggling to find their rhythm again. Your legs slowly detached from his hips, but your arms remained wrapped around his neck. You could feel something warm and sticky coating your thighs and slowly dripping onto the floor below. Your fingers traced a slow, tender path down his back, and he shuddered in your arms.

"Don't move," he murmured quietly against your skin, which for the first time in a long time held a warmth within it. "I want to stay inside you a little longer. You're so warm."

"I'm not going anywhere," you whispered in response, before a small smile crept onto your lips. "But wouldn't the hammock be more comfortable?"

Isaac shook his head, his lovely curly hair tickling your chin, making you giggle. The sound, so careless and free, drew him back up to you. His deep brown eyes were wet, his pupils so dilated they almost filled the brown. He looked like a painting, one you would never tire of looking at.

"Someone needs to watch the boat and make sure we don't run aground or go off course."

"And you'll do that, Captain Night?" you teased playfully. He rolled his eyes, then kissed you as if you were the most important thing in the world to him. As if you were a treasure belonging only to him that he would never share or neglect.

"That, or fill you up for a while longer, my dear princess," he whispered against your mouth, and you lightly slapped his shoulder. His cock twitched inside you.

“I could go all night, love,” you whispered back, before your mouth captured his again in a passionate kiss.

While the sea around you was calm, the night sky clear, and the world around you seemed to have paused, you lay entwined on the thin red blanket on the ship's deck. You gently shifted positions so that Isaac lay beneath you and you sat enthroned on his lap, your hips moving in slow circles that left him gasping for air.

This was going to be a long night indeed.

Dividers were made by @uzmacchiato !

Series Taglist: @ashleygryffindor @raquelyoyo @beaul-full-of-ieu @musicmanagerial @jarofghostss @iv4n-ali3n @notyourfuckingbusinesss @dxrkheavensworld @taylorwelever @minttea07 @athenalesage @mrsnukola @mcufan2031 @stranger-chan @wringmyfaithfulheart

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