An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 2/9
Fandom: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
After his father’s death, Pureblood Vampire Neil Hatford thought life would get easier. He was no longer alone, bound by the chains of The Butcher’s rule. He had an eternal partner, a found family, and a new home to call his own.
The world would not be so kind.
His father's obligations await him, and there are no safe hiding places from the Moriyama family, not when they are a group of crazy scientist werewolves intent on wiping him out for good.
Neil is tense between Andrew's knees. His hair brushes Andrew's chin when he shakes his head no.
The quarter moon is bright. The frogs in the pond are silent, as are the crickets and cicadas.
Andrew takes a deep breath, savoring the crispness. He supposes it is cold. The air tastes the way it only does before a freeze.
He leans forward, snaking his arms around Neil's middle. Neil twitches when Andrew's chin hits his shoulder, the tight muscles sensitive.
Neil won't stop moving. His bouncing knee is not hitting Andrew, but Andrew feels every shake through Neil's back.
Neil's pulse is like a rabbit's against his cheek.
"Neil."
"What?"
Andrew has been studying Neil for a while now. Longer than most humans he comes across, at least. His favorite blood bag, Aaron calls him, and he’s half right.
Andrew knows from Neil's tone that nothing of value will be said tonight. Andrew also knows Neil can't stand the press of fingers on muscle when he's this tight.
So he leans back, brings an elbow up to rest on Neil's shoulder.
"Can I?"
"Can you what?" Neil asks, irritable.
"This." Andrew digs his elbow into the muscle, once, briefly, and Neil hisses.
"Can I?"
"Yeah."
Andrew digs in. He drags along the ridge, and it's like tilling cold earth. Neil groans, but he doesn't tense or twitch away.
Andrew pushes again, over and over, noting each intake of breath, each murmur of pain as Neil's head slowly tilts forward.
"You should probably breathe," Andrew says, pressing hard against the knot.
"Fuck you," Neil mutters, before letting out a long breath and inhaling again.
He focuses on his breathing after that, and Andrew watches his pulse slow in his neck until it's a steady beat.
Neil relaxes into Andrew until he can't get a good angle any more.
Neil's breathing is quieter now, his knee still.
"Mmm."
"Better?"
"Mm-hm."
He's sounding loopy, and Andrew might think he had already drank from him if he didn't still feel the ache in his gums and in his gut.
As if reading Andrew's mind, Neil tilts his head back and to the side, exposing his neck with half lidded eyes. His skin glows. In the moonlight, he and Andrew are almost the same shade.
"Thirsty?"
Andrew presses his nose against Neil's throat, warm warm. Neil has a new job, and he doesn't smell like sugar and butter any more. He smells lik printer paper and cherry handsoap, stress sweat and burnt coffee.
"Later." Andrew brushes his lips against Neil's skin, and Neil doesn't twitch away.
Andrew looks up at the stars, the ones so far away they might not even exist any more. He feels Neil, snug and warm in his arms, heart beating under his cheek. He feels a breeze ruffle his hair, and he closes his eyes, and pulls Neil closer.
