HealerFount but Fount is a vampire who has been blood starved his entire existence and Healer is the first cookie to let him hit and boy does Fount gets addicted to vanilla.
This is making me wanna redo my SilentFaerie Vampire x Priest fic
And I was waiting until after posting the latest Lost Dolls chapter to devote time to this š
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I decided to switch things up a bit and make Fount a pathetic bottom and idk how to feel about it. Did I nail pathetic bottom?? Or should I stick to him being a bratty top?
Also, this...ended up getting freakier than I expected šš BUT!!! It could have been worse.
The Fount fiddled nervously with the fabric of Healer's hood, "A-And you're absolutely certain you're alright with this?"
"Of course I am." Healer smiled. His hood was detachable from his robe, it was more like a cloak over his robe, but regardless of what the particular article of clothing was called, he began to remove it.
The Fount sputtered and tried to protest, but Healer simply removed the hood (cloak) and sat it to the side on the bed. He turned back and smiled up at him, the bottom edges of his blindfold creasing upwards with his cheeks.
"It's alright," Healer laid his calloused palms around The Fount's smooth hands, "We can take things slow."
The Fount bit his lip and tasted the stale, fermented jam that he knew need rejuvenating sooner rather than later.
The Saint of Solidarity had warned him that starving himself could be disastrous. He, himself, had nearly corrupted against his Virtue until the nearby Faerie King had offered himself up as his drinking familiar. But, that had been many eons ago. He knew the Saint of Volition had her hoard of Haetae that she used to satiate herself whenever she needed. And The Herald of Change had his wildspices fight for the honor of being drained. Even The Apostle of Happiness had cherubs she could use as a quick meal.
But him? He'd refused every offer to drink.
Of course the allure of keeping an immortal familiar around for the sake of feasting sounded appealing, but The Fount couldn't bring himself to bite his disciples, nor did he wish to drain any random ol' cookie.
But then, Healer came along. Sweet, naive, wonderful Healer.
He wasn't frightened of the vampire god, nor was he swayed to cease his visits ā especially once he found out The Fount was starving himself.
"Please, while it would be the greatest honor to have you feast from my jam," Healer had said, "The bigger honor would be ensuring you are strong and healthy once more."
The Fount had agreed on a few conditions:
1) Healer had to officially move into The Spire. None of this sleeping in tents at the edge of the village anymore. Besides, if this were to become a regular (or semi-regular) occurrence, he wanted to be sure Healer was safe and recovering after a feeding.
2) Healer had to sit through his lectures on vampirism, vampires, drainings, feastings, side effects, allures, hypnosis, shapeshifting, immortality, and weaknesses.
3) Healer had to accept the fact that, if things went well, he would have to accept staying by The Fount's side forever, as a familiar. And that if he were to leave, they would both suffer for it.
"I don't plan on going anywhere." Healer had promised softly.
But now they were at the part The Fount had been dreading all along.
Actually biting into and draining Healer of his precious life force. He wanted to be precise. He didn't want to take too much and accidentally turn him, but he didn't want to take too little and possibly hurt Healer for nothing.
The Fount swallowed hard, "Sh-Should we wait..? I ā I mean, you did just finish eating..." His voice trailed off as Healer undid the clasp holding his robe up, then he loosened the rope around his waist and ā "W-Wait!" The Fount quickly covered his eyes, but immediately peeked through his fingers.
Healer hummed inquisitively and shrugged his robe off his shoulders, exposing his bare neck, shoulders, and pecs, "What was that?"
"M-Maybe we should wait...next week, perhaps?" The Fount suggested.
Healer, even with the blindfold on, looked at him with a deadpan expression, "Fount, everything is going to be okay." Then, he turned and scooted to be sitting agains the headboard of the bed, "Come, just sit by me." He patted the empty space beside him.
The Fount's stomach growled and ached as he got out of bed to walk around and sit beside Healer.
Healer, smiled, "Rest with me, My Fount."
His stomach gnawed at itself at his words, but The Fount obliged. He shuffled lower and slumped into the collar of his own robes. His eyes kept flickering over to Healer's exposed pecs.
He squeaked when Healer wrapped an arm around his waist and yanked him closer. The Fount scrambled to catch himself before he fell face first onto Healer's lap, but all he managed to do was pin his hands to either side of Healer's hips and come face to face with his neck.
The Fount's mouth went dry.
Healer stiffened, but didn't push away. Instead, he wrapped one arm around The Fount's waist, and tucked a finger under his chin to tilt his head back.
"O' Fount of Knowledge? My beautiful Fount of Knowledge?" He cooed softly.
The Fount whimpered, "Y-Yes?"
Healer tilted his head down until their noses brushed and their foreheads touched, "May I kiss you?"
The Fount whined and nodded shortly, "Y-yes. Yes, please ā!"
Healer had already closed the distance and pressed their lips together.
The Fount had only ever kissed his fellow Virtues, and those had been friendly, camaraderie kisses. Simple pecks. Nothing more.
But...even though this was supposed to be The Fount's first feeding, it was as if Healer was the one starving. Still, his lips moved slowly, purposefully, as if he was trying to show The Fount how to kiss him back.
Occasionally their lips didn't quite come together correctly, but Healer's hand slipped into The Fount's curls and he gently corrected him with little tugs to the sensitive curls at the nape of his neck.
Eventually, Healer needed to break the kiss to breathe, and his chest heaved between them.
The Fount blushed a bright raspberry blue when he saw how flushed Healer's cheeks and chest were.
"O-oh my! We can stop here for today! N-no meed to rush into thINGS!" He squeaked again when Healer grabbed his hips and dragged him onto his lap. Now he was straddling Healer's lap, and his hands came to rest on his biceps. "Healer! You should know better than to manhandle a god!"
Healer smirked that coy, mischievous smirk that The Fount was slowly coming to adore and dread (for it meant Healer had thought of something to say or do to make him blush).
"I see no god here." Healer kept his voice low, his fingers drummed deep into his hips and tugged him down further onto his lap, "Just a hungry little cookie."
The Fount blushed furiously, then leaned back just enough to cross his arms.
Healer tilted his head and had the audacity to pout, "What's wrong, my sweet Fount?"
"You're teasing me." He huffed, his cheeks still warm despite the millennium old jam in his veins.
"Awww, my sweet," Healer smiled, "I meant no offense, honest." Then, he leaned forward and sucked on a spot near the back of The Fount's jaw ā which, regrettably, dragged a gasp out of him and made him cling to Healer's shoulders ā "I simply," he kissed the spot, then moved down to suck on a spot on his neck ā The Fount had to bite his lip to keep from making a more undignified noise ā "Wished to have you closer."
"Y-You're awful." The Fount's eyes fluttered close as Healer's mouth began to work magic on his dough.
Healer only hummed in acknowledgement. His hands began to work as well, massaging his lower back and then his hips. The Fount wasn't sure which was worse, the hot mouth on his throat, or the grabby hands on his hips. Healer's hips bucked up and The Fount felt his ā
He gasped and his hands flew up to cover his face once more. He accidentally clipped Healer's chin as he did so and Healer froze in place.
The Fount gasped again, "H-Healer! I am so sorry! I hadn't meant to hit you! Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry!"
Healer chuckled and gently removed his hands from his face, "It's alright. I know it was an accident. I'm sorry if I am moving too fast for you."
"N-no! No..." The Fount quickly reassured him, "It's just...I've never..."
"I know." Healer was understanding, and that just made The Fount feel worse. "It's okay..."
Here they were, having consensually agreed to The Fount feeding off of Healer, and instead he was prolonging and delaying the inevitable.
"Why don't we just pause and relax a little, okay?" Healer suggested softly.
The Fount's lower lip trembled and he let his head hang and his forehead press into his shoulder, "O ā kay," he sighed heavily.
Healer maneuvered them both to be more comfortable. The Fount was still straddling Healer's lap, but his āahemā hard problem was no longer a pressing issue. The Fount's hands rested on Healer's biceps once more, and Healer's hands rested on The Fount's outer thighs.
For a moment, The Fount let his mind drift away to the soft rise and fall of Healer's breath. The gentle beat of his steady heart. The warmth of his dough under him nearly lulled him to sleep.
But then they were moving.
And, truthfully, he didn't know whether he had made the first move, or if Healer had, but they were moving.
The Fount's starving lips found Healer's, and Healer's rough hands grabbed handfuls of his ass as he rocked their hips together.
The Fount moaned when Healer's hard problem slipped up under his robes, and he found the friction of their underwear addictive.
"C-Crumbs, you sound beautiful." Healer groaned into their kiss.
The Fount didn't respond, but he did take the opportunity to lick Healer's exposed tongue on the final syllable.
Healer immediately grabbed a fistful of The Fount's curls and gently tilted his head with a tug. The Fount whined which gave Healer all the access and permission he needed to shove his tongue into The Fount's mouth. Once they found their new rhythm, Healer's hand fell back to The Fount's hips.
The Fount felt so silly, tonguing Healer and grinding on him like he was some dewey-eyed, freshly baked cookie going through puberty. But it felt too good to stop. His own hands grabbed at Healer's back and he began to kiss down his jaw.
Healer gasped at the new sensation, and his hips thrust more desperately into his, "O-Oh, m-mmm-my Fount," he panted heavily, "M-May I?"
The Fount hummed in agreement for whatever his Healer had planned. He truly didn't care how far they went or what mistakes they made.
As if guided by some ancient instinct, he grabbed a fistful of hair at the nape of Healer's neck and pulled it back. Healer gasped and The Fount's lower half tensed up instinctively when his rough hands slipped under his robes to grope his bare thighs.
The Fount quickly kissed his way down Healer's jaw, down to his neck where he could practically smell the jam throbbing just under his dough.
Healer's hands were busy under their robes but all The Fount could focus on was the taste of Healer's dough, the trembling of his veins, the pulse of his jam.
He was hungry ā starving ā and he couldn't control himself anymore.
