Gurl, just give us some good Haz smut
Title: For Old Time’s Sake
Pairing: Vampire!Haz/Reader
Warnings: Vampires, Blood drinking, Oral sex on a female character. NSFW
“Just one drink for old times sake?”
That question should have sent up so many red flags in itself but Harrison had shown up at your shop, skin so pale it looked as if he had been chiseled from alabaster, cheeks sunken and eyes dead. Well, dead for a vampire.
It hadn’t taken too much more than the soft question and haggard appearance to have you locking up your small shop, pulling the curtains to cover any outsiders view of the shelves of crystals, jars of herbs and spices, and tiny brown bottles full of oils. You double bolted the door before turning to find him leaning tiredly against the door frame that lead to the small upstairs apartment.
“Goddess above…” you muttered darkly as he swayed on his feet. His eyes trailed to meet yours.
“Little witch…” he whispered the old term of endearment that had your heart stuttering.
“Shut up Haz.” You mutter sliding under his arm and helping him up the stairs.
You help him to your bed and sit him down on the downy comforter as you cross your arms in front of him.
“I’ll help you this one time but I need you to tell me what happened.” The Harrison you’d known would never let himself willing get in such a condition as you saw before you.
He takes hold of your arm with preternatural speed and yanks you into his lap thinking you’d let him get away with the trespass. One arm bands weakly around your waist while the other brings your wrist to his mouth.
“Haz! No!” You bark pulling your arm free before he can sink his teeth into your soft skin. He whines plaintively.
“Spill it Vampire or I swear I will rescind my invitation.” You threaten even though you both know it’s a lie.
He looks up at you for a second, still firmly in his lap.
“There’s a new Van Helsing whelp I’ve had to contend with.”
A pointed look from you has him continuing. “Thomas has cut me off from my hunting grounds. He’s burned my home to the ground.” You can hear the anguish in his voice and you do feel for him. You’d loved him once, you likely still did if you were willing to admit it.
A vampires home was sacred, to destroy it, an act of war. His cool thumb strokes along the pulse point of your wrist and your eyes flutter shut.
“Little witch, you want to let me drink.” He says softly. Your laughter rings out like bells in the quiet room. His looks is confused.
“You forget you can’t compel me to do your bidding? Has it been that long?”
A low frustrated growl rises up in his chest as you squirm out of his lap and toward the head of your small bed.
“You also forget, you don’t get to feed from anywhere someone may notice. If there’s a Van Helsing after your hide I don’t need to draw any more attention to myself.” His sunken eyes seem to brighten at what your saying and you suddenly are nervous about what you’ve offered.
A silence comes over the room as he turns onto the bed, kicking his boots off as he goes. His icy fingers reach your ankle, grip lightly, cautiously. Sitting back on his heels he watches you swallow hard as you nod for him to continue.
The cool digits slide over you calf, pushing up your skirt as it goes. When you glimpse his ocean blues again there is a focused, predatory gleam to them.
Over your bent knees his fingers continue their ascent, his other hand joining in, rucking your skirt up until it’s falling back against the tops of your thighs at your hips. He nudges your knees apart. You can see him scenting the air, watch as his fangs descend in his mouth. Memories of encounters before flash in your minds eye and you feel a sudden pulse of arousal. You know he knows and your cheeks flush pink.
“I won’t take anymore than you’ll give.” He says quietly, slowly bending forward and placing thin, cool lips to the inside of your knee. The breath whooshes from your lungs as his mouth continues to walk up your inner thigh, his hands on your knees keeping your legs spread for him.
“No venom.” You warn, hating the breathless sound of your voice.
“You didn’t want it back than.” He murmurs. “Even I’m not hopeful enough to think you’d changed your mind.”
His tongue soothes over an area like he’s tracing an X across the spot he favors most. He could turn his head and his nose would brush over your damp panties, there no way he can avoid the effect he still has on you.
“Still have a scar, love.” His voice is weak but appreciative as he kisses the old scarred flesh above your femoral artery.
“Get on with it.” You beg quietly. Harrison nuzzles against the marks before opening his mouth around them, the tips of his fangs tickling, feather light against your skin. You drag in a ragged breath as you feel the razor sharp edges of them slip into your skin. Your back arches as the intense sensation of his bite over takes you. Pain and pleasure mix together in a dance you remember so intimately. You can feel the warm wash of blood pulse into into his mouth with each beat of your heart. The contrast of hot blood and cold lips making you whimper and squirm under his touch. You feel his mouth sealing over the bite and hear the long wet pulls he takes. He grows stronger as you feel the first twinge of dizziness hit. One pale hand grips your knee tightly while his other arm rests across your hips holding you still.
“Haz…” you barely recognize the soft moan as your own but you certainly recognize the deep chuckle it elicits from your guest. It could be five minutes. It could be five hours for all you can tell. Your nerve endings hum as he pulls your nourishing life force into his greedy mouth. Finally he pulls back, lapping at the quickly closing holes, kissing them once more before rocking back on his heels and taking in your shallow breathing and flushed appearance.
He looks better already. His cheeks fuller, the pink hue of stolen life brightening his complexion from its previous stone like appearance. His eyes are bright and wild as they course over you. Your blood stains his lips a rosy hue.
“I used to end this differently.” He notes playfully, his fingers trailing over your soaked panties. Your thighs quiver as his thumb brushes over your clit. “I could pay you back for the drink maybe?”
You bit your lip hard as his fingers toy with you through the fabric.
“What do you say little witch? Once more, for old times sake?”
You whine out a sound that Harrison happily takes for a yes as he leans back in. His hands wrap around the waist band at your hips and you raise up so he can slide the fabric down your legs. Once it’s out of his way he wastes no time letting his tongue run along your folds, tasting the essence of you along your warm flesh. He hums happily as he uses two fingers to part you, letting one slip into your gripping center.
“Fuck, Love, so tight for me.” He growls lowly pulling his finger from you and licking your slick from it. Before you can complain about his lack of focus his mouth is on you. His tongue laps at your wetness, you can feel him drawing intricate patterns with the tip of it along your folds as you whine quietly for him. He works methodically as if he’s remembered every step in taking you apart. His lips latch onto you clit and he sucks lightly, your hands fall to his head, tangle in his blond locks, desperate to keep him in place. Two fingers slide inside you as as he begins working you in tandem, his mouth and hand pumping and sucking in a way that has you trembling and bucking into his touch. You feel a white hot flame burning inside you, growing brighter as his fangs graze your sex, until all you are is a creature of sensation. It is all too much until suddenly your body can handle no more and your spiraling, falling apart as he works you through it, dragging it out until you're over stimulated and begging him to stop.
He crawls up up your body as you lay limply under him, trembling with aftershocks.
His now warm lips capture yours. You can taste your juices and blood on his tongue and you whimper.
“My little witch.” He whispers softly, stroking a hand along your cheek. “Why did I ever let you get away?”
You don’t have the energy to do anything but nestle closer to him. A familiar hardness presses against the apex of your thighs, he’s hard and waiting, still fully clothed.
You give him a lust drunk smile as you weakly reach down and cup his length through his trousers. “For old times sake?” You ask sweetly.
