Another Life - Chapter 24
Fandom: What We Do in the Shadows
Pairing: Vladislav x Reader
Series Rating: E
Word Count: 3187
Chapter Summary: It’s what we’ve been waiting for, folks. They finally do it.
A/N: Hey, I’m really sorry about the delay. COVID messed up my thesis AGAIN so I’ve been playing catch up at school. I’ll try to be more consistent. As always, this is also on AO3.
You picked at your plate of chips while Vladislav stared intently at you. When insisted on taking you out to dinner despite the fact that he couldn’t eat, you insisted on somewhere simple and affordable, that he wouldn’t hate being. So, you were eating chips at The Big Kumara. If you thought being there would be less awkward than at a fancy restaurant, you were mistaken. It was just plain odd eating while you were being stared down.
But, if you were going to be dating Vladislav, you supposed you should try to get used to it.
“Thanks,” you said again, gesturing to the food in front of you.
He smiled. “They’re just chips.”
You ate another.
“So, the last time you and the guys brought me here, you mentioned you knew the owner,” you began.
“Yes.”
“And when we came in just now, the bouncer said we were ‘welcome.’”
Vladislav grinned, obviously anticipating what you were building to.
You continued, “This is a vampire bar, isn’t it?”
The second the words left your lips, you felt like an idiot. A vampire bar? What the hell was a vampire bar? Why would vampires even need a bar? They didn’t eat or drink.
“It is, yes.”
Oh.
“Why?”
His eyebrows turned down. “Why what?”
“Why would vampires want a bar?”
He shrugged. “To lure in victims.”
You glanced around the bar. You and Vladislav were the only two people there. “And how often does that work out?”
“Every now and then.”
So, not often.
“How many vampires are there? Around here?”
“80 or so around Wellington, I think.”
You shuddered at the thought. How did it not seem like people were going missing all the time?
“Is that normal?”
“How do you mean?”
“I don’t know. It just seems like a lot.”
“Not really,” he said. “That’s pretty typical for a city this size.”
That alarmed you. You’d thought vampires were much more rare than that. A part of you was willing to believe that the majority of Wellington’s vampires lived with you. 80 out of the entire population of the city wasn’t a lot really, technically. But how many people must they be eating? How often must they be eating? And the fact that it wasn’t a lot more than usual, that everywhere was like this… And that was just the vampires. There were werewolves, witches, all manner of creatures out there. It was amazing anyone survived long enough to die of old age.
“Y/N?” Vladislav prompted, pulling you from your thoughts. “You’re thinking pretty loudly.”
You returned his smile. “Sorry.”
“I know it seems like a lot, but you weren’t even aware of vampires before moving in with us. We tend to keep a low profile, as a species.”
“I suppose so,” you conceded with a small laugh. He was right, of course. People didn’t just disappear off the streets, not at a higher rate than normal, anyway. Those 80 vampires hadn’t affected your life at all, nor had they affected the lives of most people, it seemed.
Apparently, this was just how the world was.
You went back to eating your fries.
~
Dawn was out of town visiting a relative, so you finally had a chance to do the stupid thing she wouldn’t want you to. It was so stupid, in fact, that you hadn’t even broached the topic with her, knowing how she’d react.
And she’d be right. You shouldn’t do it.
You finished applying your makeup, ready to go out on the town.
Like an idiot.
The disappearances had been slowing, but they certainly hadn’t stopped. Your brain morbidly supplied the suggestion that the disappearances were slowing because there weren’t many women left who matched the description of those missing.
You feared you were one of the last.
All the more reason for you not to go out.
You didn’t know why you were. It’s not like you had a death wish. At least, you thought you didn’t.
Maybe you did.
You grabbed your purse and headed out.
~
You and Vladislav returned home, closing the front door behind you. You turned to look up at him. This part was weird. Generally on a first and second date, and whatever your make out session at Boogie Wonderland could be classified, the members went home separately. It was always abundantly clear what would happen next. Unless someone was invited in, you went to bed alone. And if someone was invited in, that sent a pretty clear message, as well.
The established dating protocols really fell apart when you were flatting with your date.
“So…” you began, desperately hoping he would take over, as you had no idea how to finish.
He obliged. “Let’s go upstairs.”
You faltered. Again, with the lack of clarity. Each of your individual bedrooms were upstairs. He might mean ‘Let’s each go up to our own bedrooms alone.’
But he might not.
He kissed you goodnight after your first date. He kissed you goodnight after you’d walked home from Boogie Wonderland. He wasn’t kissing you goodnight now. Instead, he was giving you an almost predatory smile.
“Your room or mine?” he asked.
Oh. That was clearer.
Is this what you wanted, though? Obviously you were attracted to him. (Very obviously.) But this was only your second date. Well, it could count as a third date if you were being generous. And people definitely hooked up on third dates. That was a whole thing.
You were wearing matching underwear. You’d shaved. Your bedroom was even clean.
Vladislav brought his hand up to rest on your hip, and you suddenly couldn’t think of a reason not to go for it.
“My room,” you said, quickly weighing the benefits of your bed against the drawbacks of his coffin.
And then he was taking your hand, leading you upstairs to your bedroom, guiding you like you were a guest in your own home. He tugged you along, and you had to half jog to keep up with him as he rapidly climbed the stairs.
You swung the bedroom door shut behind you, and it slammed with a loud thud you had no doubt could be heard throughout the house. You barely had time to wonder who of you flatmates were currently home before Vladislav had you pushed up against the door, his lips on yours.
You leaned into the kiss, savoring the feeling of his hands roaming over your clothes before you gently pushed him away.
“Wait a sec?” you said, gesturing over the bathroom door.
He nodded and stepped back, letting you walk into the bathroom, shedding your bag and jacket and kicking off your shoes as you went. You absently pulled the door closed as you entered, but it didn’t latch, leaving a small crack in the doorway. That was fine; you’d just wanted to freshen up.
You wiped any smudged makeup from under your eyes as you swished some mouthwash around. Not that it really mattered. He’d already kissed you with chips on your breath. You spit into the sink and faced your reflection in the mirror, brushing your fingers through your hair in an attempt to re-tame it. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him push open the door and step into the bathroom. You managed to suppress an eye roll. He really wasn’t big on boundaries, was he?
Eyes still locked on your own reflection, you said, “It’s been about 60 seconds. Not very patient, are we?”
“You make me very impatient.”
You gasped and jumped in surprise. His voice had come from directly behind you. Being a vampire, though, he wasn’t reflected in the mirror, so you’d had no idea how close he was until he spoke.
“Relax,” he said, bringing his hands up to your hips. “Don’t turn around,” he added as you began to pivot. “Keep looking in the mirror.”
Vladislav bent his head down to kiss the side of your neck. You could just make out his dark form in your peripheral vision, and it took all your willpower to keep your eyes focused on the mirror. An excited chill ran through your body as you gazed into the mirror. You couldn’t see Vladislav, but you could see the evidence of him. The fabric of your shirt was rumpled where his hands rested. Your hair was mussed where he had brushed it out of his way. Your face was flushed already.
Vladislav’s hands lifted from your hips, and you bit the inside of your lower lip in anticipation, bracing your hands against the counter. You couldn’t see his hands and didn’t know what to expect from him until you felt his hands come to rest on your chest.
Your breath hitched when you felt his breath on your ear. “Is this okay?”
You nodded, unable to speak, and his hands began moving, groping. His hands squeezed your chest firmly, strongly, just shy of painful. You couldn’t hide the small moan that escaped your lips. His hands meandered down your body, exploring its curves until they once again reached your hips. His left hand dipped under your shirt, lightly trailing back up your torso, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your bare skin, and settling back on your chest, kneading the flesh there. His right hand stayed lower, deftly unfastening your pants.
“Keep your eyes on the mirror,” he said. His hand came up to your face and gently guided it toward the mirror.
Your eyes were wide, pupils blown. Your chest heaved with your deep breathing. You could see the outline of his moving hand under your top, but his other movements remained a mystery. That is, until you felt his hand slide into your pants, reaching downwards until he reached the spot he was looking for. He slid a digit between your folds and you gently gasped at the intimate movement.
“Wet already?” he whispered into your ear. You could hear the teasing smile in his voice.
You wanted to say something clever. Witty. Something that could knock him down a peg. Raise you up a peg. Anything to level the playing field. Instead, you moaned.
Damn him.
“That’s what I thought.” He sounded even smugger than before.
You wondered if there was some sort of vampire-related reason you were so into this so fast. Barely anything had happened yet and you were practically a puddle. You considered asking if this was just a vampire thing. You didn’t, though, for fear of insulting him if the answer was yes, or being humiliated if the answer was no.
A wide finger slipped inside you, altogether halting your train of thought, and you bit your lip to keep from making a pathetic sound. Although you couldn’t see Vladislav in the mirror, he could see you, and brought his other hand from under your shirt to gently pull your lower lip from your teeth.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” he gently chided as he began working his finger in and out of you.
You ground your hips against his hand, hyperaware of the cool metal of the ring of his pinky finger pressed against the junction of your thigh. He added a second finger to his ministrations, and you startled momentarily, almost looking down instead of ahead into the mirror. But if your gaze faltered, neither of you noticed.
Vladislav’s chest was pressed against your back, effectively pinning you against the sink. His hair fell forward, brushing against the nape of your neck, and the pendants of the two long necklaces he wore dug almost painfully into your shoulder blade. You could feel his hard cock pressed firmly against your ass as you ground your hips. The glimpses of him you caught out of the corner of your eye- his hair, his nose, his shirtsleeve- were beginning to drive you mad, when he pulled away all at once.
His fingers were gone and so was his presence at your back.
Careful to keep your eyes on the mirror, you asked in a voice breathier than you would have liked, “Vladislav?”
He didn’t answer. At least, not vocally. Instead, you felt his hand at your hips, thumbs dipping into the waistband of your pants. In one swift move, he pulled your pants down to your ankles, and a shiver ran up your now bare legs as the room’s cool air hit them. His hands slowly trailed up the outside of your legs, leaving goosebumps in their wake, until he reached your underwear.
“Do you want me to take these off?” he asked.
That stopped you short. Why would he ask that? Of course you wanted him to take them off. How else were you supposed to proceed? Then you realized that, obviously, that was his way of asking if you still wanted to proceed. He was checking in to make sure you wanted this.
You nodded rapidly, repeatedly, before breathlessly managing a “yes.”
Your underwear was removed and you briefly felt foolish and mildly unattractive, standing in front of the mirror in nothing but your top. Vladislav apparently did not share those doubts about your appeal, however, as you suddenly felt him pressed between your thighs. You hadn’t even noticed him unfasten his pants.
His right hand came up to your sternum, pulling you against him. His left, presumably, was being used to position himself, because you felt the head of his cock slowly press into you.
“Oh fuck,” you exhaled as he slid himself fully into you. His breath was ragged and irregular in your ear, morphing into a deep but quiet moan when he was fully sheathed inside you. That was a sound you could certainly get used to.
You both remained still for a moment, adjusting to the sensation. You felt pleasantly full, stretched, though not to the point of pain. The heat low in your belly demanded movement, friction, but you were pinned between his body and the sink, unable to do much more than squirm.
Before you could say anything, though, Vladislav oh so slowly, teasingly, pulled out, leaving just the head inside of you, before pushing ing back in, only slightly faster. You let out a soft sound, somewhere between a moan and a sigh, from high in your throat, as he repeated the motion. As he began to rhythmically thrust in and out of you, you rocked your hips back to meet his, both fucking one another against the bathroom sink.
His hands were everywhere, it seemed, a frenzy of motion, on your stomach, your hips, your arms, taking in everything they could, before he returned to your chest. He squeezed, pinching and twisting your nipples through your shirt, pulling whining moans from your throat. With a particularly rough thrust, Vladislav threw your body forwards, and you braced your hands against the mirror to stop yourself from colliding into it. You moaned loudly as he repeated the harsh movement. Whether spurred by your vocalizations or the by the sensations involved, you didn’t know, but he continued with this aggressive pace, and you increased your own thrusting in kind.
Your head was spinning from the delicious feeling of him stretching you open, hitting just too hard, just too deep. The glass of the mirror felt almost like ice under your heated hands. The porcelain of the sink would likely leave bruises on your thighs from where you were being pushed into it on each of his thrusts. You squeezed your eyes shut when you felt his lips brush against your neck.
“Vladislav!” you’d meant it to be a whisper, but it had come out just shy of a shout.
Your own moans, his panting breath punctuated by masculine grunts, the wet sound of your flesh slapping harshly together, the metallic link of his necklaces against one another, the rustle of your shirts against one another… it was so much, almost too much, dizzying.
“Fuck, fuck…” he breathed.
You were close, so close. You could tell he was getting there too. He was picking up speed, losing rhythm.
“Vlad- I-“ you struggled to find words. Your brain felt like mush.
Thankfully, though, he either understood or predicted your request, because he brought a hand down to where you most needed it, rubbing your clit in firm but gentle circles. You feel yourself clench around him hard as you orgasmed, feeling the tingling in your abdomen, your back, spreading upwards and throughout your body until you felt like nothing so much as a pulsation of warmth, of static, of pleasure. He could tell, you realized, as he chuckled deeply in your ear, and you gasped as he followed, coming hard, spilling himself inside you with a loud moan.
As his movements slowed, you finally let yourself fall forward onto the mirror, your forehead leaning on the surface. Your breath left small puffs on condensation on the glass as you tried to regulate your breathing. Vladislav relaxed on top of you, not weighing you down, but leaning against you. You couldn’t quite make out his form where his head rested on your shoulder, but you felt his breath through your shirt.
You stood there in a silence that seemed deafening compared to the noise that had come before, savoring the feeling of his chest rising and falling against your back, his softening member still resting inside of you.
Eventually, though, he pulled slowly out of you, and you whimpered at the loss, feeling suddenly empty. He took a step back, and you pushed yourself off of the mirror, noting the smudges now decorating the smooth surface.
You turned to face him, resting your bare ass against the sink as he tucks himself into his pants. You felt spent, physically and emotionally, and very much in need of a good night’s sleep, but you couldn’t fight the smile that tugged at your lips when you caught sight of the wicked grin he’s throwing at you.
“What?” you asked as you bend forward, pulling up your pants. You felt suddenly shy for someone who was just railed to a very intense orgasm.
He shrugged, still smiling. “Nothing, really. You just seemed like you enjoyed yourself quite a bit.”
You considered pointing out that egotistical wasn’t a good look on him, that he also seemed to be having a pretty good time, or that insinuating that he was a good lay actually detracted from how good a lay he was.
Instead, you let him have this one, saying, “Yes, I did.”
“Me too.”
He surged forward, pulling you into a rough kiss, hardly giving you any time to reciprocate before pulling away just as quickly.
“Come to bed with me now?” he asked, the suggestion loaded with innuendo.
You raised an eyebrow, your earlier fatigue fading at his tone, and headed towards your bed, trusting that he’d follow.