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lumieresdreams · 19 days ago

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A BITE THAT HEALS

STARRING: vampire physician!zayne x sick countess! reader

synopsis: you've fallen dangerously ill and now your position to be countess is threatened by your family that wants to sabotage your claim. with the outbreak of vampiric attackers going rampant, alongside the challenges that come with not being able to see the sun, you seek refuge in your physician's care. and eventually give in to your deepest desires at a a cost.

warnings: porn with plot. angst WITH COMFORT. mention of death, murder attempts, depictions of murder, death, you both want each other, eventual smut, dry humping, body worship, fingering, cunnilingus, hair pulling, vampire sex, multiple orgasms, creampies, you are NASTY FREAKS!

wc: 13,6k

an: Vampire Zayne. VAMPIRE ZAYNE!!!! I promise the angst won't make you cry. I think.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

The skies have lost their taste. Its colour is as mundane as the mushed texture of expired fruit. In any glimpse your eyes can catch, the clouds cast the sun aside as a salute to you — and your illness.

Your skin is pinched by a sliver of warmth before the curtains draw closed by the gloved hand of a handmaiden; one of many that relentlessly serve you. You gingerly scorn at the shadowed warmth emanating from the gaps between your sanctuary and the outer world.

As your eyes reluctantly draw away from the dull specs of light, your hands subconsciously reach for your arms, half covered by the gown being fitted onto your person. The day has barely begun, and yet your duties as regent countess come first and foremost above all.

Even when the world pities you. Even when you must enshroud yourself in the arms of darkness. Even your body betrays you, weakening faster than you can possibly grow old.

The days had blurred into months, dragging the old beauties of life to become mundane and distasteful. The only true source of exhilaration that remains is a particular practitioner who directly tends to your wellbeing.

“You must avoid attending the evening mass tonight, my lady.” One of your most trusted handmaidens says, wrapping the strings of your corset around her palms. “There have been rampant attacks reported over the last few nights.”

“The same ones as those from last week?”

“Indeed, my lady.”

“Ensure that funds are sent to support the injured and sickly— mostly to the church and infirmaries.” You mutter, feeling your throat become irritated, again. Another illness to add to your agitations. “If I cannot help those in need directly, send my regards through this service. Ensure the reverends respond by tomorrow.”

Your handmaidens nod and work effortlessly, ensuring your undergarments are secure before fitting you into your tea gown. It is the purest representation of elegance, your clothing. Designed to perfect and accentuate your figure, you have donned some of the best gowns and accessories the ton has seen yet. Your every appearance before society — both high and low born — have always left an influential mark.

Many suitors have bent the knee for your hand, many ladies have scorned your ‘theft of their gentlemen’ with your beauty, mystique, and charm. Mamas and patriarchs of the highest families have sent calling cards to request an audience— all of which went unanswered. You truly are the embodiment of divine beauty in mortal form.

And yet, you can barely muster looking at your reflection.

Despite the encouraging words of your handmaidens— granted to you as you grew in training to be secondary to your elder brother should he fail to inherit the title as Count— you struggle to see the person you used to be. Before the illness. Before the pain.

It had begun when your skin prickled and seared under the glare of the sun, an entity you once relished in dancing beneath.

It was a leisurely promenade on horseback with your brother in the peak heat of the summer months. You had come down with an intensive fever after spending barely an hour outside. It appeared your brother suffered the same illness but not as intensely. Only after months of close observation was it confirmed that you had caught a strain of an illness.

One that runs cold and deep within the blood of your ancestors. It rarely appears, which potentially was why your parents had neglected to inform you before their disappearance just months after you came of age and came out to society. That was eight years ago.

Your brother passed on two years after the discovery of your illness, leaving you as the sole heir of your family’s great fortune, and the title as Countess for the lack of a next of kin.

Or so you believed.

Once word had flooded into society that you would be the sole heir to the fortune in your family’s name, your aunt— sister of your father— returned after years of silence to retrieve what she claimed to be hers.

Your incentive, despite your weakened and vulnerable state as young as you were, was to protect what remained of your family’s legacy and to drive your cruel aunt as far away as possible. Unfortunately, your argument was considered weak, for you are an unmarried woman.

She has a son, despite the rest of her children being girls, almost of age and accredited amongst the ton as a well-esteemed man. That public favour only goaded your aunt in her attempts to swipe your inheritance and leave you to rot.

Years of holding back tears and biding your time wore you down. The endless quarrels and battles withered your confidence. Word eventually came to your attention that the bodies of your parents were finally found, and gruesome a discovery it was.

It tore you apart to the point of you being bedridden for months. Your breath had grown hollow for some solemn dark years, your hands tightly gripped by your handmaidens and trusted attorneys begging you to stay strong just long enough to win.

As stubborn as you are, even to this day, you cursed your aunt with every fighting beat of your slowing heart. When your health finally stabilised after years of confinement and grief, your heart locked tight and grew colder.

Your skin is almost as fragile as glass. Your eyes are still sharp regardless of the hollowed gaze you use to terrify that damned aunt of yours. Your fortitude hardened like steel over endless nights of gazing into the darkened night— the only time your eyes did not taunt you with pain just as sickeningly riveting as your grief and rancour.

“You must be careful in your steps, my lady.” Your handmaiden tuts as she pulls the strings, tightening your corset just enough not to harm you. “You’ll only harm your skin and deal great pain upon yourself should you overexert yourself.”

“Would it compare to what I have already suffered?” You ask, not tearing your eyes away from your reflection. Eventually you would have to face what remains of you in the mirror.

Your body took a great surplus of damage over those years of emotional and physical torment. Even the slightest pinch would feel like hundreds of blades piercing your flesh. The best physicians became useless in aiding you. Your hope had begun to diminish as quickly as your health did. Until a spark pushed you back to your graces.

He was the unconventional type, this physician. He held no discrimination between the classes that the hierarchy of your society stood upon— the physicians that failed to treat you often scorned at the alleged scars that cicatrised his flesh, or mocked his methods for his lack of “discernment” on the people he ought to treat.

That alone was more than enough for you to have him be the one to bring you back to greater health.

His attempts, while valiant, did little to bring you to be in a fit enough position to walk without an attendee by your side or a cane to support you in case your muscles give in to weakness. That being said, you praise him generously for trying. For believing that you are capable of healing, even if there are parts of your health that you’ll never see again.

The mere thought of him alone makes your lips curve up just a little.

Your handmaidens complete the rest of your gown in the midst of your reminiscence, and the bell from outside your chambers announces the arrival of your physician. He’s here.

The attendants have definitely noticed the rise in your mood ever since the arrival of your trusted doctor. Despite his unsocial tendencies and his especially dry sense of humour, they’ve taken note of how your body loses tension and relaxes so long as he is within close proximity.

Your hushed conversations mid-observation stretched on for prolonged hours— longer than any standard check up should be. Your smiles were always visible in his presence and only returned to being a rare treasure after he left.

They definitely saw you smiling just a little bit right now.

The doors to your chamber split open, gushing a scent of jasmine and lavender into the room. Your eyes flutter shut, letting the soft breeze greet you with a gentle kiss on your sensitive skin. By the time your eyes opened once more, you could see his gaze on you through the mirror.

“Good afternoon, Zayne.” You smiled. You had long forgone formalities over the stretching months of him treating you to better health. To be fair, you had developed quite a warm friendship.

“You seem to have more strength today,” He glances at your figure, nodding to himself. “You’ve managed to stand still for longer. That’s an improvement.”

“With your support, it is only fair to assume I’d regain my vigour quickly.” With a sharp look to the head of the maids at your stead, they scurry off with excited titters, likely on their way to report of your joy to the rest of the staff. They could all see the growing interest you had in Zayne, and they grew to enjoy his presence too.

Every trip made to your manor involved you pestering your butler to ask the chef to prepare sweet pastries, knowing he had a taste for them. Your handmaidens dressed you in some of your best gowns — which is technically all of them — giggling amongst each other for the little dates you would have with him, even if you wouldn’t refer to them as such.

And yet you go on promenade with parasols in the afternoon together to stretch your legs. Any yet you share meals together. And yet you have been caught resting beside him by one of your handmaidens which she eventually swore not to tell a soul.

It was the happiest you had been in years. Of course, your servants would do anything to see you smile. The housemaids had even prepared a chamber for him in the event where he’d be needed overnight.

“Is it not dangerous for you to roam to recklessly out there?” You ask, draping your shoulders with a shawl for more warmth. “There have been attacks all over the place.”

“It’s my duty to tend to the wounded and ill, my lady, even if I put myself at risk.” Despite your longstanding friendship, he still opts to be so formal. “What have you heard?”

“They call the attackers vampiric.” You sigh, taking Zayne’s extended hand to help you move to your bed. “Canines elongated and sharp, skin cold yet potent to deceive others with the illusion of warmth. Apparently some are still warm to the touch… I’ve heard they also have a great affinity for blood.”

Zayne only hums as his hands hover over your exposed neckline, awaiting your consent. You absentmindedly nod and glance to the covered window in longing. “Some say they hide in the shadows during the day, as the sun harms them.”

“Almost sounds like they are rather similar to you.” Zayne pokes your cheek with a subtle grin.

“Are you accusing me of consuming blood?” You gasp, holding your hand over your chest. Directly above his own. You swear to yourself that it was not intentional.

“Perhaps you are,” His grin only widens, glad to see you entertained by his jibe. He extracts one of his tools from his bag, placing the cool metal on your chest, moving it around until he hears the soft drumming of your heart. “You might just stalk your way around the streets of town in the dark of night, finding your next victim to extract their very essence.”

Your ears are burning at such close contact. It’s not the first time his hands have been so close to you but it always leaves a lasting affect, sending flutters to your stomach and burning heat to your ears and cheeks.

The way his hazel tinted eyes always flicker between your chest and your gaze shoots shivers down your spine. Sometimes you wonder if his gaze ever lowers to the cleavage of your bosom— but you ought not assume he would be so bold.

“I would only want yours.” You whisper. His hands roam over the expanse of your chest, gently poking and pressing on your skin. It brings your breath to catch deep in your lungs, your pulse slowly jumping.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I— I would…” You quickly blink yourself out of your trance, glancing around the room to gather your thoughts. “I would only want the purest blood! Blood seeped in alcohol must have a nasty taste, no?”

“Perhaps,” Zayne pouts and leans away to store his medical tools in his bag. It takes all your energy not to make a sound, mourning the absence of his touch. “Or maybe you have a taste for the best blood the world can provide.”

“If I did,” You slowly gather your words as you lean closer to him. The way he is seated on your bed prevents him from leaning back. “Would you get it for me?”

Was this dangerously inappropriate? Of course it was!

Did you care? Well…

It did take a lot of courage for you to move so subtly. His reaction only makes your efforts more fruitful. His ears have a slight red blush creeping closer to his face and his eyes— those ethereal eyes— have already glanced off in another direction to avoid your gaze.

“I ought to remind you that this is purely hypothetical.” Zayne gently pokes your forehead. “What occasion requires you to dress so formally?”

Your smile slowly fades. Your aunt had decided to grace you with her presence for luncheon with her eldest son and daughter. In her letter, she referred to it as a moment for you to all bond as a family. As 'true kin’ meaning to support one another.

You hadn’t heard from the woman in almost two years ever since she left you in such a damaged state. You laughed hysterically when your butler reported it to you. Letting bygones be bygones is beneath you.

The rejection letter was halfway through being written when you remembered that any sign of resistance, knowing your aunt and her devilish ways, would only be met with corrupted legal pushback— and you were not in the mental state to handle such strain again.

You had no choice. You have to protect what remains of your family, even if it kills you.

“Luncheon.” You stiffly respond, feeling the icy chill spread through your body. The warmth once shared between the two of you slowly becomes overpowered by pure resentment. “With my aunt.”

Zayne’s lips purse into a straight line. “I see.” He shares your sentiment against your aunt. After all, it was her consistent harassment over the years that drove you to your illness being dramatically exacerbated. It took him threatening her with summoning your attorneys to drive her away, but the damage had already been done.

“When is it?”

Like a sick joke, the bell rings overhead, indicating the arrival of a guest. But you don’t need your butler to tell you who it is.

“I suppose now.” You slowly push yourself to your feet, rejecting Zayne’s caring hands to support you. You return to the cold, resenting tone that held you before his arrival. “Am I to assume you shall remain in the manor until dinner?”

Zayne curtly nods. “I’ll right beside you during luncheon. I just need to clean up here.”

His heart tugs as he watches you leave your chambers, supported by a wooden cane. He has no need to pity you, for he has seen your strength. But he burns to help you in any way he can just to see that cold scowl disappear once and for all.

The luncheon goes as you expect it to.

The formalities pass through smoothly, your aunt pulls you into her embrace and squeezes her grip on you with her knowledge of your physical weakness. Fortunately, it was brief. She still reeks of strong floral perfume, only this time it’s far more potent.

Your cousins were more stiff with their greetings, giving you sneers and subtle jabs about your appearance.

“You still look so sickly,” The younger cousin snickered. The frills on her gown made her look like a peacock. “Perhaps I should send you my stylist to create a new wardrobe for you. One that won’t make you seem so… rude.”

The elder cousin, although younger than you, was silent and devoted more of his energy observing the interior of your manor. Almost as though he was planning what he wished to do with it.

The meals were delectable, as expected of your chefs. They are the best of the best, after all. When you began to host again, once your heath improved just enough to interact with others, your guests— mostly being close family friends— often commended the food provided and asked for recipes so that their chefs could make something similar.

You have always taken great pride in your staff, and always extended your gratitude for them being by your side in the most difficult time in your life. They stood by your side, fed you, bathed you, spoke stories of the current affairs in society to keep you up to speed, and treated you and each other like family to substitute for the one you lost.

Without them, there would barely be anything left of you. Without them, your fortitude to fight would have shattered.

“This is quite the mediocre meal you have provided, dearest.” Your aunt tuts as she waves for your butler. “Take this scrap away. Even a cow would eat better.”

Your jaw ticks but you keep your gaze on the plate beneath you. You finished your plate, and considered the main course rather divine. Perhaps your aunt’s palate was not yet accustomed to more exotic meat.

“I see you haven’t ventured out beyond our country’s bounds.” You comment, seething each word with long-brewing venom. “Your taste buds have likely dulled from all the pork you eat.” One of the things your aunt resents about you is your sharp tongue. It’s why she is so persistent on pinning you down hard enough to legally overwhelm you.

You could see her brows knit together from your peripheral. Just as you intended. The elder of your two cousins merely snickered while the younger scoffed.

“Who is to say this foreign meat is even good?” She sneers, despite having stuffed her mouth with the very meat she insults moments ago.

“You have too much confidence for one who barely interacts with society. Not to mention how dark it is in here, there’s barely any direct light here. I feel sorry for your staff, especially that practitioner.” Her eyes flicker to Zayne, who stands beside your staff.

He occasionally joins you while you eat just to keep close in case your agitations harm you. It isn’t uncommon for your illness to strike you at random, so he must have attended to keep an eye on you.

“Honestly, with the way you brood, I doubt anyone would want to be in your presence.” That would have struck a nerve if it was the first time she had mentioned it.

Your eyes grew painfully delicate in the presence of the sun— constantly burning or drowning in tears or drying up completely if you were outside for too long. The same applied to your skin. It began to physically ache to feel its rays on you. The only solution was to reduce the light exposed to you as much as possible.

“Such a shame, indeed. I truly am not like you, dearest cousin.” You taunt as your gaze strikes her with contempt. “I believe it is only fair you dance around the public grounds under the sun while you cozy up with all the lords of the land. You ought to give them a visit on a promenade. I am sure one will be mad enough to raise your skirts.”

Just as your butler coughs back a chuckle from your callousness, she slams her hand on the table with faux tears brimming in her eyes. “You foul—“

“Now, dearest,” Your aunt cuts in, tilting her head in that same condescending way as she did all those years ago. “You ought not be so cruel to your cousin. After all, she is the closest you’ll ever have to a sister.”

“She is not my sister.” You are quick to interject her, silently cursing yourself for reacting so quickly. That only seems to fuel your aunt more.

“She is your kin.” Those eyes of hers twinkle, making it known that she’s seen you break just enough to poke at your pride even more. “You are the last of your father’s legacy, and yet you are barely fit to claim a dowry.”

From the corner of your eye, you see your butler, footmen, and maids twitch in agitation. You subtly raise your hand beneath the table, keeping them at bay.

“You are just moments from breaching the territory of a spinster, my dear.” Her false concern is slowly shifting into jeers of spite. Almost as if she waited those eight years to pin you down. “You have no match, no suitor. You cannot possibly think you can claim what remains of the fortune. You are a woman and your brother is gone.”

Your eye twitches at the mention of your brother, but you force yourself to maintain composure. “As a woman, your duty is to get a husband so that he may take over the title. So that you may pass down your forefathers’ legacy. Though that may not be a present option. Not when you can barely walk on your own without a cane and a maid by your hand.”

Through gritted teeth, you force yourself to speak. “You have no privilege to discriminate me for a hereditary illness. I had no involvement in living this way.”

“Oh yes, dearest.” Your aunt coos in that damned sneer. “We have all been praying for you all these years for your speedy recovery. But it does not seem that you have fared any better.”

You can feel yourself getting stiff with agitation. Your chest squeezes in tight, your breaths constrain and become shallow enough for the rise and fall of your torso to be visible and quick. You can hear the snickers from your cousins but they drown out into a buzz of noise.

You can see your aunt’s lips move but you hear no words. Her eyes narrow, her brows raise in pity as her smile widens just enough to see her gums so harshly pink that it feels unnatural to see. Her hands follow her words, flicking with each intonation of her voice, all so condescending, all so vile.

The pounding in your chest grows louder and louder, thumping into your head so harshly that you can feel it. Pulses of pain spread through your mind as hot flashes surge beneath your skin. It’s too much. Your corset feels tight around you, your shawl sets your skin ablaze in discomfort with every breath you take. But you can’t move your hands to take it off.

You’re trapped to only listen to your aunt break you down to pieces, just as she had all those years ago. To embarrass you, to harm you, to shatter you again and again and again until she is sure there is nothing left but a hollow shell that she can steal from.

“You are the blood of your father’s blood. But your father was strong. Like your cousins are.” Mentioning him so crassly brings your hand to tighten around the sharp knife beneath you. She has no right to even utter his name. None. “Our blood gives us the powers to wield such a privilege of the title Count. And you ought to have the same too… if it weren’t for those sickly genes from your mother—“

Before you can comprehend it, your body moves for you in spite of the inferno of agony driving you to crumble. Your hand tightly grips the knife as you charge to your aunt, vision blurred with tears and her neck being the only clear sight before you. One single cleave will silence her torment forever.

Your tea gown flows as you glide to her like a vengeful ghost, arm raised just high enough for the blade to glimmer in the air. “You shall speak no word of my mother, you wretch!”

Everything from that moment happens so quickly. The screams from your cousins, your aunt and the staff reign chaos in the dining hall. Clamouring footsteps and scraping chairs thunder on the floor as hands reach out to you, desperate to hold you back from committing an act you may well regret.

Tears fall from your eyes as you draw closer to your aunt, whose face is completely distorted with absolute fear and terror. Her hands shield her face and turns away, granting you full access to the veins surging beneath her skin.

One cleave.

Just one cleave and that crone is dead.

All of a sudden, air fills your chest and snaps you out of your homicidal daze. Your head is tucked securely into a broad chest, while strong arms wrap around you tightly engulfing you in his scent. Zayne’s hold on you does not hurt as much as your body does from the overexertion devoted to murdering that woman.

You can just barely hear her cursing you, panting and screaming for the staff to call for her carriage. You can hear your cousins, one wailing for her mother while the other curses you to damnation. You couldn’t care less.

Those gulps of air shiver into sobs as more tears flow from your eyes, from the pain of your muscles constraining and the grief of your beloved family.

You hear your name whispered to you in a hushed voice. “Breathe. Breathe, my lady.” Zayne’s voice brings back the warmth you shared just hours earlier. Just enough to soothe you, but not enough to silence your fury.

“I’ll kill you.” You pulled your head from his embrace to face your aunt once more. “You vicious dog, I will kill you if it is the last thing I do in this mortal body!”

You watch your aunt and cousins scurry towards the doors leading to the entrance and follow them with as much strength as your weakened body can allow. You watch them trip over each other, ignoring the guiding hands of your butler and physician in case you lose your balance. They don’t try to stop you.

“I will tear you limb from limb and end the bloodline by this very hand, I swear it! You will never claim the title of Count, and you will never claim this manor so long as I live!” As they enter the carriage, your aunt turns to you with a scornful smile on her face. The luncheon may not have ended as she desired but there is at least satisfaction from rousing you to anger.

You collapse into Zayne’s arms once the doors completely close, shielding you from the light and the eyes of your kin. Tears blind you in agony, the surging throbs of your body spread until you can barely feel him lift you into his arms.

Your sobs are the only thing you can hear until his voice calls out to you once more.

“I’m here, my lady.” Only then do you realise that you have been returned to your chambers, enveloped in his arms. His scarred hands, both rough in texture and gentle in touch, stroke your skin lightly just to soothe you.

“I need— I must—“

“You must do nothing.” Zayne hums, pressing his cheek on top of your head. Your handmaidens silently entered your chambers to leave a comfortable dress for you to wear instead of the tea gown constricting you and overstimulating you. Once they have settled your garments, they leave as quietly as they came.

“I acted out of turn—“ You turn to face him, only to be stricken with more agony from such a quick movement.

“You were provoked.” Zayne urges with an unusual strain to his voice. His attempt to suppress his anger somehow brought comfort to you. To see him care so immensely for you was heartwarming. “She had tapped into the most sensitive topics to harm you. Of course you responded that way. You were hurt.”

“The manor is bound to fall into her hands from that reckless act alone.” You shivered, almost seeing that smug look on her face should she stand victor in the battle that has lasted a decade. “I am only left to pray that those vampiric folk consume them, or worse.”

Zayne can only listen to you cry as he holds you. As much as it would satisfy him to handle them himself, you are his priority first and foremost.

“My lady—“

“My clothes,” You murmur, feeling the discomfort of your flesh being tied up so uncomfortably in your garments. You were just fine earlier, why do you feel so constricted now? You tug your shawl off your shoulders and reach for the silk strings at your waist to tug out the knot. “I need to take it off, it’s too much.”

“I’ll call for a handmaiden.”

“No!” You shriek, harshly tugging away but it just won’t budge. Your body still aches with the need to free yourself from the constraints, bringing tears to your eyes once more. “You have touched most every part of me from my bosom to my ankles, you have seen it all. I need you Zayne, pray, I need your help.”

It is truly difficult to resist you when your eyes brim with tears and pure desperation scorns you. He has to help you. He has to. Even if it is ungentlemanly. He is a gentleman, don’t get him wrong, but you come first.

His hands rest on your shoulders and push your gown slowly until he reaches your waist where the knot is securely tied. He tries as best as he can not to listen to your frustrated pants and instead concentrate on the task at hand.

He smoothly undoes the knot, eyes fluttering at the sound of your relief. He can only imagine how hard it was for you to sit through such a horrid luncheon like that. If it weren’t for his logic, he would have dealt with them before you lost your temper.

Zayne slides your gown further down your body until it reached your hips. “Stand for me, my lady.” You slide off your bed without question, allowing for your gown to slip off your form and pile on the floor.

Still too overstimulated to care, you turn around and gesture for Zayne to help you with your corset and the rest of your undergarments. Upon the glimpse of your back, he immediately feels a familiar rise of arousal burn within him. Damn it.

Something about how delicate yet strong your back looks just riles him up. Each muscle is so defined yet soft in the way you move, your posture is always so poised, even the way you’re turning to glare at him right now is attractive.

“If you cannot assist me further, please summon my hand—“ Nope, nope, nope, he won’t allow it.

“I can do it.” He clears his throat and adjusts his pants to conceal the tent.

Zayne scoots closer to you, ensuring his growing erection remains hidden enough for him to undo the strings of your corset outside of your sight. He works quick and smooth, gently pulling at the knots to ensure you aren’t hurt. Piece by piece, he helps you remove your garments until you stand nude above him. He can only pray that his precum doesn’t leak into his slacks.

He reaches for your looser gown and swiftly slides it over your head. He watches the smooth fabric slide down your collarbones, down your breasts, covering your waist and hips until it reaches the ground with a gentle tap.

Only then can he exhale the air caught in his throat. Only then can he swallow the urges surging within him from your scent alone. A scent so rich that he had to clamp his tongue with his teeth.

“That should do it,” He grits, smoothing out the fabric around your waist. He can’t help but keep his hands on you there. It just feels right.

“Thank you.” Silence stretches between the two of you before you sigh. “I shall have to summon my attorney to make a plan. That woman will surely use that event against me.”

“I am sure you will be able to find your way to victory.” He assures you. “You’ve fought battles worse than one to claim a title.”

“I am a woman, Zayne.” You scoff. “Unless I am able to outlive them all, there is little I can do without entering criminal territory. It seems I have already acclimatised myself to that path.”

He hums in agreement, swallowing the laugh that almost escaped his lips. His thumbs gently massage your waist, ignoring how dangerously intimate the gesture is. You seem to ignore it too, fully engulfed in need to feel secure. To engulfed in the desire you have fruitlessly tried to keep at bay.

You are attracted to Zayne. How could you not be?

For a man so handsome, so respectful, so empathetic and devoted to seeing you return to better health, it is only fair that you have begun to dream of him. That you have begun to feel your core ache and burn for him, to leave you soaked in desire so much so that you’ve spent nights moaning his name into your pillow.

It is an impulse you do your best to ignore, but with the way he holds you so gently, with so much reverence, it truly is hard to ignore the growing heat in your core. You can only pray he doesn’t notice.

“You ought to get some rest.” He advises, not as your companion but as your medical advisor. He glances out the covered windows to see the light filtering into your room. It’s much warmer. It must be dusk already. “I shall be leaving soon as well.”

You immediately step away from him touch, swiftly turning to show your shock and fear. But it’s always been that way.

In daylight, he is yours. Confined with you in the manor so that he can ensure you are well. The only reason why he only arrived at noon today was because he had other patients to attend to. Once the sun sets beneath the horizon, the night claims him. And you can never understand why.

You hated that.

You were able to handle your time beyond dusk well, you had your own tasks to attend to as the regent of your household— the title being temporary due to the special nature of your case. You had a society to attend to, people to care for and fund. You had a life ahead of you.

But it was at risk of being taken from you. Your life nearly slipped from your hands if it wasn’t for his skilled assistance. Your motivation and discipline was dwindling before he gave you a reason to keep going. He reminded you of your compassion. He reminded you of how strong your bond with your staff was, and how that devotion extended to the people you were raised to uplift.

His presence in the daylight’s torture was your solace and his absence in the night’s embrace was your silence. But you want no more of that exchange.

You want to be selfish. You want him. In both dawn and dusk.

“And if I suffer from any pain?” You spoke in a hushed tone, anointing your words with distaste. You understood his duties and his need for rest, but he could do it here. With you. “Where will I receive the help I need?”

Zayne merely gifted you a small smile as he took his bag. “The night is yours to claim, my lady. You can send for me.”

“The night is dangerous to roam these days.” You scowl at the growing distance between you. The shiver of ice hardens over your flesh once more. You hate how your comfort and warmth comes and goes with his presence. But without his service, his care, his companionship… what would you be then?

“Then I shall see you tomorrow morning.” He bows his head and turns to the hallway before him. Keeping his gaze ahead, Zayne’s voice drops an octave. “Don’t go outside tonight.”

Without another word, he stalks into the candlelit hallway leaving you alone once more.

The night is silent after he leaves. You’re antsy, brooding, on the verge of tears— not because he isn’t with you, no. Because the scandal of a luncheon you had is now plaguing your mind. You have been blaming yourself through tears, trying to find reason in your spur of madness.

Your butler and handmaidens struggled to calm you and soothe you, but the teas they brewed and the stories they told of similar situations they had seen somewhat put your nerves at ease. Just enough to keep you out of harm’s way.

Staring at the fire pit, you lounge in the sitting room. Your mind is racing with ways to cover up your sins. You know your aunt is losing grip on her finances and yet still splurges to satisfy the whims of your cousins. You could bribe her. But then she would blackmail you and demand more until she’s sucked your accounts dry.

You could actually kill her. But you cannot do it directly, you may not have the physical strength. To even out the hypothetical grounds, if you did, your persecution would drive your family name across the mud. And you’d be stripped of your assets regardless.

Each and every plan you concoct results in you ultimately losing or being forced to sacrifice something too vital to you. The only logical option would be to outlive at least the elder cousin. But since he is five years your junior you have your doubts, especially when you take your illness and physical weakness into account.

The painting of you, your parents and your brother hands high above you. Their gazes were so warm back then. You would often see them in your dreams in your weakest hours, urging you to keep going. To fight. You have to keep going. You just have to.

You can’t let them win. You have to honour your family and claim what is yours.

The clock loudly chimes, indicating it is now midnight. Your butler swiftly collects your empty cup and bows. “I shall be taking my leave, as will the rest of the staff, my lady. Need I assist you to your chambers?”

“No, thank you.” You smile at the family portrait, gesturing to the cane beside you. “I have more than enough help right here.”

Glancing at the portrait, your butler smiles. “Rest well, my lady.”

You listen to his footsteps fade into the manor, and once there is complete silence once more, you rise to your feet. Your grip on your cane is tight from your body still being in shock. Your conviction, however, is stronger.

Your plan is both reckless and dangerous, you know. But you have no other choice.

You pace to the main entrance of the manor, sharply glancing at the footman by the door.

“I trust that you will keep this to yourself?” You whisper and he nods affirmatively. He opens the large door, welcoming the nightly gust to kiss your skin in greeting. You can almost smell the eery musk in the air. The scent of danger. Regardless, you step out, tugging fiddling with the sleeve of your overcoat.

“Safe travels, my lady.” The footman mutters as the doors close once more. Your plan is unfolding perfectly.

What plan you ask?

Locating Zayne, of course.

Well, to be fair, it was not just that.

You intend to keep an eye on the process of your funds being sent off to infirmaries, churches, schools, and other places that require it. The transaction on your end has been successful from the report of your maids but there is something interfering with the receiving end in the town.

So you opted to investigate it yourself, outside of their knowledge. It puts you at a great and dangerous risk, but that is what you have Zayne for should you find him on time. You have also stored some of your medication in your purse as well, just in case things do end up going wrong but you plan to leave it in your carriage since the trip should be brief.

The carriage speeds into the town, illuminated by lanterns and candles radiating from the windows of the townhouses along the road. From what you recall during your occasional visits, it should be bustling with people, whether to attend festivals or for the more secretive ventures to the brothels.

The streets are empty and quiet. One thing you have never seen before in all your years.

Your carriage awaits your return outside the main church. You had letters sent to the reverend, informing him of your incoming presence so he would be expecting you.

You push the arcane wooden doors open to be greeted with an eery quiet. Familiar to the holy silence you would hear whenever you visited to donate funds to support those in need, but far more disorienting.

“Reverend.” You call out, only to hear your voice echo through the walls. Your shoes click on the wooden floor with each step as you get closer to the altar. You had seen many of the ladies around your age marry here. You now scoff at the idea of ever getting married. You’re too old and you’ve lost the taste for entertaining suitors.

“Reverend?” You call again to receive not silence, but a scream.

A loud shriek that could be mistaken for one that a debutante would make if her dress were soiled. To your surprise, the very reverend you were waiting for stumbles into the hall both petrified and disheveled, doing what appeared to be adjusting his pants.

“I condemn you, devil!” He cries before he notices you. He pauses to catch his breath and straightens his robes. “Ah, my lady, now is truly not the time—“

“What is going on here?” You ask, scrutinising his panicked state. “What are you running from?”

“Vampire, my lady!” He shouts, gripping your shoulders to push you away. “There is a vampire that has breached these holy grounds, it just cannot be—“

In a flash his hands fall with him to the floor, pinned by what looks like a sharpened crucifix. He screams of agony make your ears ring. “Damn you, you demon!”

You turn to see who he curses, with slight fear rising up your spine. Adorned in black with specks of blood staining the fabric with eyes as green as an ember and as brown as the soil, the vampire stops in his tracks fully gazing on you.

“Zayne,” You exhale, unable to recognise the feeling behind your heart punching your bones. Your palms are getting clammy, your breath is growing more ragged, and yet your core burns with unsanctioned desire.

“My lady.” He sounds breathless, as if he was looking at you for the first time. Just as he parts his lips, his gaze averts to the reverend behind you.

“So this is what’s gotten you so distracted.” You hear him chuckle before he clasps your wrist with his bloodied hands and drags you outside.

The cool winter wind sends shocks of ice cold shivers down your spine as snowflakes flutter onto your skin. You had almost forgotten it was the middle of winter. The harsh wind blows your overcoat open, exposing you loose gown to the freezing elements.

“Revered, unhand me!” You tug at his grip only to struggle as he pulls you down the stairs. A sharp jasmine scented gust rushes past you at the force dragging you away severs completely. You glance down to see his hand still on you but completely sliced from the rest of his body.

Utterly shocked, you shriek and fling your arm to force the hand off of you. A trail of blood drips into the snow, growing bigger and bigger until you see Zayne’s form hunched over the reverend, loud gnawing noises being the only thing you can hear.

“Zayne,” You whisper, only for your voice to fall upon deaf ears. “Zayne!”

His movements stiffen completely as he turns to face you. Blood is stricken across his face and dripping from his abnormally sharpened canines. His skin almost glistens in the cold dead of night, and those divine hazel eyes just look brighter.

Could it be?

Zayne always leaves the manor at night. He rarely eats when he’s with you and when he does, it is just barely enough to keep him satiated. He sometimes refers to himself as a vegetarian even though he consumes animal meat. He never sets foot outside without something to give him shade, almost like the sun harms him.

It could not possibly be. You’ve seen his ears turn red when he gets flustered. Although his hands are mostly cold, you’ve felt his warmth. But some vampires don’t become as cold as ice. It is rare but it’s possible.

The roads all lead to one answer. He is a vampire.

“My lady, it isn’t safe for you here.” Zayne wipes the blood off his lips onto his sleeve. He slowly reaches you, his steps crunching marks into the snow. You hadn’t realised how overpowering his height actually is until now. Until now, you didn’t realise how terrifying his gaze is, how almost obvious it was.

You can hear the reverend gurgling behind you, clearly still clawing at what remains of his liveliness. Zayne did that much in just seconds. He could have consumed you at any given moment. Whenever he checked your pulse. Whenever he nursed you. When he drew blood from your flesh. Whenever he saw you bare before him. Whenever you shared the most intimate looks and touches.

And yet he never did.

“I—“ Your chest squeezes harshly, like hundreds of pins stabbing at your heart continuously. You gasp, watching your gaze reach the black moonlight sky as you fall to the ground.

You can’t feel your body. You can barely hear Zayne calling your name. Your eyes dart around his face as he cradles you in his embrace, his blood stained canines glistening as his lips frantically move in a repetitive pattern.

Your vision slowly blurs and darkens, moment by moment. It’s almost peaceful. You can’t possibly allow it. You must fight on. But you feel so warm in his embrace. So safe.

With the waning remnants of strength left in you, your hand gently cups his cheek, staining your fingers with the blood that struck his face.

“You…” The whisper is hoarse and thick with gratitude for him, fear for the future of your home, and resentment for all that could be taken from you. “So, so beautiful.”

“My lady, please.” Zayne’s voice cracks as he begs, his eyes welling up with tears. “You must stay strong. Maintain your strength. Overcome this shock, I beg of you!”

The pain only engulfs you more. “If I cannot avenge my family… if I cannot outlive them…” You worry as your grip tightens on his cheek. It takes only seconds before a perilous idea strikes his mind.

It is risky, truly, it is. But he is running rather short for time. He knows of your ambitions and your deepest desires. He can give that to you. He can. But it would only give you something similar to the illness you already face. You may never be able to step into the graces of the sun again.

If your grit stays true and strong, Zayne may have no other choice.

“My lady, you can.” He whispers, canines revealing themselves with his deluded smile. So long as he restricts himself from taking too much, you will live. He just has to hold himself back just a bit longer. “You have to choice to live. Eternally. With me. We can outlive your relatives. Or kill them if it fancies you. You can keep your title. But only if you are willing. I don’t want to take your life from you.”

You slowly blink as his eyes become the only thing you can clearly see. Your heart drums against your chest as you weigh the options. You could live forever. But you’d never see the sun again. You may just outlive your staff too. But to protect your family name, to avenge yourself, and to have Zayne be yours eternally… to be like him would not be much different from how you are now.

You were never going to truly recover. You’d always be a fraction of who you once were. Your aunt was right. But this? This is an opportunity. A chance to truly heal, even if your only connection to your family will be the legacy you live through. You had a shot and setting things right once and for all.

With a weakened smile your eyes fluttered as you whispered your final words as a mortal. “Give me the tools to avenge my blood.”

The following seconds are pure agony. The last thing you see is Zayne apologetically smiling with you. The last thing you feel are his lips gently pressing on your forehead. The last thing you hear, that gives your heart the sharpest twinge, “I love you.”

Once his teeth sink deep into your neck, your vision darkens completely.

There is silence. And then there is pain.

Your body burns like it’s caught up in flames, white hot and striking your every nerve. Your lips tear open to scream but no voice or air comes out. Your nails claw at his flesh, to ground whatever sinking life is in you. It's endless, loud, and violent until it quiets down completely.

And then there is a new form of silence.

You can hear distant bells chime while they flow with the winter wind. You can see the smallest, most intricate details of a falling snowflake. You can smell the scent him. You can feel his grip on you tighten, gently shaking you to see if he didn’t go too far. You can hear his honeyed voice call your name in fear and worship.

You blink and see those hazel eyes, now more beautiful than before.

“My lady?” His voice is as clear as the morning serenade of the birds. He looks even more handsome now. It shoots pulses of need straight to your core. Along with that, comes a fresh sense of confidence like a coat of skin over your strengthened skin. You no longer feel pain with every movement.

Your hand squeezes his cheek to test your strength, pinching harder and harder until he yelps. “My lady, you must tell me if you’re alright—“

Ignoring your inhibitions, you pull Zayne down to your embrace, pressing your lips right onto his. His lips are soft like pillows and, if not for the taste of your blood, you’d assume he tastes sweet. It barely takes seconds for him to respond with equal fervour, wrapping his arms round your waist.

Your tongue pokes between his lips and he grants you access with a hushed moan, leaning forward to push you deeper into the snow. The cold is no longer as biting as it use to be. It doesn’t bother you at all now. The pain in your body has silenced. It’s been so long since you felt so at ease.

Is this what pleasure feels like? Is it the burning feeling in your chest? Is it the way that your hands rush to feel more of him like you won’t get the chance again? Is it the way you both move together in a lustful dance, sharing your hushed noises of pleasure and need together?

Perhaps it’s all of it. Perhaps there’s even more.

“Zayne.” You pant as you pull away, strings of saliva connect you to him.

“My lady.” He whispers with reverence laced in his tone. His hands caress you with care. He must be in heaven. That kiss… not only did it send signals straight to his cock to rise harder than it has ever been before, leaving him near shaking.

In the quiet cold, he can’t help but desire you now more than ever. To taste you, to feel you above him until you drive yourselves mad with pleasure. It’s an insatiable desire and yet he wants it. He needs you.

You can definitely feel his erection. And that only makes your arousal deepen for him. You were already grinding on him the moment your kiss had deepened. You press wet kisses all over his face, reaching for his jaw and neck as your hands explore the expanse of his clothed back.

“My lady,” Zayne whines, but tilts his head just enough to give you the access you need to torment him with your affections. It seems his neck is rather sensitive to your ministrations. “You must contain yourself. We are still outside.”

You can feel your canines, now sharper than before, prodding your lower lip. It feels so unfamiliar yet so beautifully natural. You would grow accustomed to this change eventually, you’d go accustomed to this new strength that makes you feel so alive. You could do anything, be anything. Have anything. You starved for it. And now you can get it.

“The only person close enough to spread word of our misbehaviour is already dead.” You whisper in a tone all too erotic for Zayne not to moan at the sound of. “I cannot hear his pulse.” You are correct, the reverend had long taken his final breath before Zayne had bitten you.

Before he had turned you into a stronger version of yourself. A vampire, if you will.

The scent of the reverend’s blood sets off a deep, voracious craving within you to hunt down any person you can find and consume them. You wanted to devour every damned member of society that wronged you. It cannot compare, however, to the ravenous desire for him.

“I must return you to the manor,” Zayne tuts, bringing your lips to his for another lascivious kiss. Your tongues dance frantically, hands slowly reaching lower to your chest before he pulls away. “Your bloodlust will drive you to attack innocents.”

“But what about the reverend, I can—“

“You won’t consume something as tainted as that.” He cuts in, pressing a peck on your nose. “He has been manipulating people, and embezzling the very funds you so graciously donated. You don’t deserve something as vile as that.”

He attacks your neck with kisses, pulling gentle sighs from you as his hands venture to your waist. “After all, I can only give you the purest blood. The most delectable, nourishing blood that world can provide. Come now, my lady, we must get you home.”

You’re surprised he remembered that little joke you shared earlier. You’re more surprised of how it unfolded to become your fate. Consuming the blood of others to satiate yourself. You can only hope that your staff will still keep you close and care for you and let you return the favour now that you’re stronger.

“The carriage is just nearby,” You eventually give in, pointing in the direction of where you should go. Zayne wastes no time in picking you up in his arms as if you are his bride and venturing to get you to safety.

The trip is not long. It does not take long to return to the manor. It does not take long to sneak past your staffs chambers, all of them still being asleep. It does not take long for you to reach your chambers. It does not take long for his lips to be on yours once more.

The coats and shoes had long been abandoned on the floor. Your fireplace had been vigorously been prepared by him to keep you as warm as possible, still treating you with care and affection as he always has.

Hushed moans fill the crackling silence of your bedchambers with rustling clothing and wandering hands reaching to all the places that would be deemed scandalous to touch. But your concerns for poise are long gone.

You pull away from his embrace, gliding your tongue down his neck to suckle your mark onto his flesh and lean back only to see the mark fade as quickly as it got there.

“We tend to heal rather quickly.” He sheepishly smiles. “For example,” He takes your wrist and suckles hard on your skin. You can feel his tongue glide over your skin as his eyes pierce yours, arousing you all the more. Once he pulls away, you can already see the bruise starting to fade.

“You strength has dramatically improved, along with your agility and endurance.” He explains as he presses hot kisses on your skin. “You can run faster, you can protect yourself in any situation of danger,” His hands squeeze your waist harder than before as he nuzzles his nose into your skin, inhaling your scent.

“You can last much longer in more intimate experiences too.”

Your eyes almost twinkle at the sound of that. You aren’t ignorant of what you’re about to do. You’re more than old enough to have invested in the tools necessary to give yourself pleasure in the absence of a person to do it for you. But now you wanted to get a taste of pleasure with him.

“I want to test that out.” Your voice comes out sultry and dripping with need. He can’t even resist you if he tried. You turn around, gesturing to the gentle knot tied at the back of your gown. “I may need your assistance.”

Zayne moans at the sight, his cock violently twitching and leaking in the confines of his pants. “Of course, my lady.” His patience draws painfully thin as his pulls the knot apart to allow your gown to flow, still accentuating your figure.

His hands gently pull at your neckline until your gown falls to the floor. He rushes to pull off his garments, piece by piece until you both stand nude together, warm and vibrating with need. His hands subconsciously reach to cover the scars running up both his arms, having forgotten they were there.

“Those scars,” You whisper, reaching for his hands. “May I?”

Zayne rarely allows anyone to look at his arms. But for you? He trusts you to be gentle.

Your fingers touch each and every one, grazing over the bumps and roughened skin and feeling the contrast between scar tissue and skin. There is no pity in your eyes, only wonder and care.

“You don’t think they’re unsightly?”

“No,” You shake your head, bringing his forearm to your lips. You press a gentle kiss onto one of his scars, ensuring his gaze holds yours. “I think they’re very beautiful. In fact, if we had met when we were younger, I would have drawn birds and leaves on them every single day just to show how pretty they are.”

That makes Zayne laugh, releasing the tension held tight in his shoulders. You always knew how to grace him with your charm when he least expected it. He would let you draw on his scars any moment you wanted to, kiss and admire them whenever you needed to.

“You can draw on them if you’d like.” He offers, guiding you to your bed before he gently lays you down.

“Please, I’ve outgrown that passion.” You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. You peck his lips. “I’d like to try other things with you.”

“Oh?” He teases, returning your peck with a longer kiss. “Like what, my lady?”

“Perhaps this.” You gently pull him to your lips, grinding your hips against his erection. His moans softly muffle in your mouth as he moves in tandem with you. His tongue glides over your lips as his hands gently knead at your breasts, pulling sweet moans from your lips.

Your bodies fit so close together like puzzle pieces, it would be a crime to let go. Drops of precum drips and spreads around your skin, making you very much aware of how needy he is for you. He’s just so big, so hard, he’s dripping and twitching just desperate to feel you in every way he can.

“My lady, please.” Zayne sigh on your lips, eyes squeezing shut. You just appear so much more lively, he has never seen you smile so much before. He has never seen such serenity in your eyes. He wants to give you more, and ensure you never suffer again.

“What’s wrong?” You grin, ghosting your fingers down his back. From the way his cock twitched again, more aggressively than the last time, he definitely enjoyed it. “You seem so flustered.”

“Don’t be a tease.” He rasps, averting his gaze from you. Perhaps he ought to give you the same sensation. He bares his fangs, sharp and glistening with drool from his hunger for you.

His lips explore your neck, tasting your skin, whining at your taste. He licks a stripe of hot saliva down your collarbones right to your breasts. He latches to your hardened nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud while his hand massages the other.

“I want to show you how much pleasure you can have,” He nips your breasts with his canines, burying his face deep in your cleavage. “I want to give you everything I have. May I?”

Open mouth kisses trail your skin in a pattern down from your breasts right to your hips. His hands reach down to your thighs, caressing you gently. He must know just how much it riles you up from that smirk plastered on his face.

Your face feels hot. Perhaps it’s because of the fire burning on the other side of the room, maybe it’s your arousal spreading so far around your body you can barely think. You’re practically dripping, you can feel it start to soak the bedding beneath you.

Your desire for him only intensifies the further down he goes until he rests his head between your legs. His nose dips close to your entrance, slowly inhaling deep as if the most heavenly scent was within you. A soft moan escapes his lips as his hands stroke your thighs with unconditional adoration.

“May I pleasure you, my lady?” He asks again, eyes glistening from the shine of the flames illuminating the room. How could you deny yourself such joy? You deserve to give yourself everything.

Your hands find purchase in his soft black locks and push his head closer and closer to your soaked cunt. “Of course you may,” You sigh, leaning back on the silk pillows behind you. Just for a better view. “Don’t hold back.”

My, oh my, does he take that seriously.

Zayne’s tongue slides up both sides of your folds just to get a light shiver out of you. His fingers knead your thighs to soothe your nerves while he teases you. Is it to get you trembling with need? Of course not, he would never torment you that way. Yet.

His tongue circles your entrance, gathering as much of your dripping slick as he can, relishing in his tastebuds awakening to savour you completely. “Goodness, my lady, you taste divine.” He groans from between your legs.

You can’t help but sink your teeth into your arm to withhold the noises threatening to come out. All that teasing is just so stimulating. He’s barely doing anything and yet it feels so good.

“Is that so?” You huff. He nods frantically, swiping his tongue up and down, sliding gingerly over your throbbing clit, spreading your arousal all over you. It’s utterly riveting, your legs instinctively twitch in his grip and close in on him only to be pushed back open.

Zayne tuts to your legs, pressing hot, wet kisses on you, mouthing and spreading your slick all over your skin. “Don’t move, my love.” He murmurs, licking long lines up to your knees. The sight is so erotic that you can feel more of your arousal gush from within you. Has he always been this lewd?

“Continue teasing me and I might writhe.” You struggle to bite back, shivering and whimpering from his ministrations. His fingers circle your entrance like his tongue did, occasionally pushing inside bit by bit before pulling away.

Those hazel eyes glance up to admire you, despite your disheveled state. So beautiful, so much more powerful now that you feel so much better. He’s most grateful that the made the call to turn you, consequences be damned.

His lips curl as he takes your clit in his mouth, gently flicking his tongue at your bud. His fingers tease and swirl over your entrance before pushing his fingers inside, slowly spreading them open to stretch you out.

“O-Oh, god,” Your eyes flutter shut as your fingers tug at his hair. That only fuels Zayne to do more. His fingers push in and out of you, moving faster in his pace. Your slick gushes out of you like a waterfall, overwhelmed by the pleasure being amplified by your newfound strength.

Zayne hums into your pussy, slurping away at your clit. As your thighs tremble, potentially indicating your climax, he pulls away with a soft kiss. He can feel your slick dripping down his chin. It’s all too good to be true. Devouring you, pleasing you, seeing you so healthy and well after years of bearing witness to your suffering.

To see you so joyful and pleased just gets him harder. He can’t help but grind his hips into the bedding, losing the last of his composure and discipline.

“Does it feel good?” He already knows it does. He just wants to hear it from you. You nod, panting out soft moans, but that isn’t enough.

You yelp from the pain of him nipping your inner thighs with his sharp fangs. “I need you to tell me, my lady. Does it feel good?”

He’s such a tease. You always knew he had a flirtatious streak but you never knew he’d be a tease like this. “Damn you, Zayne, it feels wonderful.”

“I’m glad.” He muses, pressing kisses onto your skin. He moves closer and closer to your weeping pussy, fingers still deep inside curling until he finds just what he’s looking for.

One push is all it takes to have your head thrown back with the loudest, most melodic moan he’s heard from you. You tug his hair hard, bringing his hips to buck right into the sheets. Electric currents shoot up his spine, just strong enough to make him so so close that he could cum on the spot.

But he can’t. He must get you to cum first. He has to bear witness to you unwinding to pure pleasure.

His fingers slip out of you to be replaced by his tongue. He just has to taste the source. His tongue curves just right, slurping up your juices as if it is holy water, licking up whatever falls down his chin and attacking your cunt like a man starved.

He would rather consume you like this on his knees for eternity. Your taste alone satiates him more than blood ever would.

His fangs gently prod your swollen folds, only adding on to the relentless stimulation from his tongue fucking your hole and his fingers rubbing calloused circles on your clit. The bed rocks from his body working to please his own desperate needs, his moans go straight into you relentless and desperate to give you more.

“Zayne!” Your cries bounce of the walls of your bedchambers as you tug and pull him closer, so much closer. It just feels so divine. Just as divine as all the stories you’d read if not better. A tight coil stretches within you, growing hotter and tighter by the second. “It feels so good, I’m about to—“

“Cum?” His honeyed voice is literally seeped in arousal in such a lustful rasp.”By all means, my lady, give in to your desires.”

He just keeps moving so fast and so intensely you can barely think. Switching between his tongue and fingers, the overwhelming pleasure pulls your back into a feline arch as your climax rushes over you like a storm.

Despite your cries, Zayne takes it as a signal to give you more. He does not stop his relentless ministrations, slurping all your juices, nuzzling his face as deeply as your body will allow him to.

It’s too much. Your clit just stings from the overabundance of pleasure and yet you keep pushing him closer to you to get more. You tug and pull at his hair, moaning his name like a prayer and it might as well be if it means this satisfaction is eternal.

Still, you want more.

You pull him away from you reluctantly, empathising with his whines to continue. “Come to me.” You don’t have to tel him twice.

Zayne crawls atop your form, dropping wet, cum-slick kisses along your skin. He stops at your neck, where the bite marks have almost healed completely, and licks his way up slowly, slowly, until he locks onto your lips once more.

You can taste your essence fall onto your tongue, exploring his taste and inhaling his scent like air. You’re still vibrating from the aftershocks of your climax, so warm and open to receive much more.

Your hand reaches for his cock, hard and throbbing from his neglect to satiate himself. It’s so hot to the touch, so large in your hands that you wonder if you’d ever be able to take him in your mouth, let alone your pussy despite how much it soaks for him.

“My lady, you don’t have to worry about my needs.” Zayne whimpers right into your ear as your grip on his shaft tightens. With the movement your position will allow, you stroke his length and memorise each detail you encounter with your fingers.

You count two veins running from his base and joining before they kiss his reddened tip. His thickness alone makes your mouth water and your cunt soak with even more arousal as if you hadn’t just cum moments ago. You press your lips on his cheek as you stroke him, grinding your hips against his cock, soaking him in your desire.

“I want to.” You whisper, licking his lower lip. “We ought to please each other, no?”

Your eyes, damn you, your eyes draw him in and hold him captive in your embrace. If not for your charm and luring voice, your eyes alone would bring him to his knees and have him willingly deliver the world to your hands.

Zayne is utterly spellbound and he would not want to be anywhere else.

“Are you sure, my lady?” He cautions, taking your hand in his to kiss. “If you say yes, I am not sure if I’ll be able to stop.”

That alone makes your walls clench. “Good. I’m very sure.” You find new comfort in his lips. The manner in which he moves in tandem with you seems as though you were made for each other, like two pieces fitting into one. It’s hot, it’s passionate, it’s perfection seeped in desire.

He aligns his tip with your pussy, gently tapping it to tease you once more. Your cunt almost sucks him in completely, grabbing at his length upon him pushing himself in just until you swallow his cockhead completely.

You both sharply inhale from how tight and warm you feel together. Zayne’s head falls into the junction between your neck and shoulder, mouthing your flesh with kisses and moans. Your arms wrap around his back, fingers digging into his muscles.

You spend seconds like that. Suspended, just barely beginning to experience such divine pleasure. Just absorbing how good it feels before it gets much better.

“So beautiful,” His muffled voice whines into your skin as if he’s inscribing his affirmations deep into your soul. “So intelligent. So generous, so kind, so divine, my lady.”

Before you can muster a response, his hips push deeper into your cunt with impatient speed until he’s completely bottomed out inside. The silence in your room is disturbed with your joint moans and the slick squelch of his hips beginning to move in a pattern, in and out and in and out, until your skin claps from his thrusts.

You grind your hips into his, following his growing speed as the pleasure between you builds like pressure boiling over. Still overstimulated from his tongue and fingers, your walls clench and squeeze on his girth, sucking him deeper and deeper inside with the sole intention to milk him of all he has.

Your moans sounds like a symphony to him. To hear you so profane and relishing in your own needs, clawing his back with your nails, digging your heels into his hips while your legs wrap tight around him… he’s so grateful to be the one to grant you this pleasure.

Loud clap clap claps echo and bounce off the walls, accompanied by the obscene squelches and plaps of his hips pounding into yours. Your lips travel around his neck, biting deep into his muscles to channel the orgasmic pleasure building up from the penetration and friction driving you up the wall.

“S-So good— harder, Zayne!” You whine in his ear, clawing his scalp as you tug his head back. His cock twitches inside you from the ravenous ache, which urges him to pound his hips harder and harder until his tip pokes your most sensitive spot, pulling pleasure cries from your kiss-swollen lips.

“So tight, my lady,” He moans into your ear, so graphic with his words. “It feels— fuck— I’m so close.”

His grip on your hip tightens as he coils his arms around you to keep you close, so tightly bound together that you become one in your pursuit to drown in this satisfaction. He has to get you to cum again. He must. To feel you squeeze and clamp down so tightly on his cock may just bring him to see stars. He must bring you to your climax more strongly than before.

You can feel your edge teetering by with even more intensity than the last. You can barely concentrate from how his relentless ruts drive your eyes right into your skull. You’re both slick with a coat of sweat making you move smooth and wet together.

You his face up in your hands, kissing him to taste him once more. You’re addicted. You are the way he feels inside, the way he tastes, how his devotion knows no bounds. It’s just too good. Tongues overlap, spilling and mixing your spit together while your teeth clash recklessly as your core screams for release, so tight that one more thrust will make it snap.

Zayne quickly pulls himself out, leaving your cunt pulsating and dripping from his unexpected absence. Before you can react, he sits on his knees and pulls you closer by the hips. Those muscular arms gently push your legs back just enough to hook them on his shoulders.

His hair lays drenched on his forehead as he pants on your skin, licking lines as far as your ankles while keeping his gaze on you. His cock gently rubs up and down along your folds, teasing his tip in just a bit only to pull out and rubs against you again.

The stimulation from his cockhead kissing your clit brings you to claw the sheets beneath you, tears brimming in your eyes from how good it all feels.

“What game are you playing?” You keen, both intrigued and irritated by his teasing.

“You must be so hasty, my love.” That grin of his is soaked with titillation, fangs glistening over your skin to graze and nip. “I want you to come undone from my cock as you did with my tongue. The only way to do that is to heighten your senses as best I can.”

His tongue slithers a trail of spit around every part of you he bites. His head nuzzles your legs, watching your gaze glaze over from how turned on he’s making you. He has no shame in sounding how good it feels to tease you like this, even if it drives him insane to withhold both your climaxes just a bit longer.

“Zayne,” You whine, thrashing your head into the pillow. “Zayne, I beg of you, cease your teasing!”

As much as he loves to tease, he cannot bear seeing you struggle so much. “Of course, my love,” He pushes your legs further back until they meet your chest. “I would never deny you of such a pleasure.”

He slides in smooth and fast, his cockhead instantly hitting your sensitive gummy spot in a better, more intensive angle. Your vision goes completely white for a fraction of a second, almost, almost enough to make you cum there and then.

You sink your teeth into his flesh from the intensive stimulation. It’s all so deliciously good. You can barely think. You can barely perceive anything outside of his face scrunching from the pleasure of you squeezing around his cock, of his eyes rolling back, of his moans and profane praises slipping through his lips right into your ever listening ears.

“So fucking divine,” He blabbers, completely losing all rational thought. There is only you. Only your desires. Only your pleasure. His mind is going completely numb and his only thought is you. You. You. “So tight. You feel absolutely perfect, my lady, I want to please you, make you feel so good.”

And that just does it.

Your eyes roll and cross completely, your toes curl and your nails claw at his scalp as that string finally snaps and tips you over the edge. Your throat goes hoarse from your cries as waves of your climax hit you like waves, pulsating and squeezing so tight that it brings Zayne to his climax as well.

Hot, thick ropes of cum shoot into you, coating your walls completely white as he fucks his seed deep inside. His voice cracks between each moan, singing your praises for the night to hear. His hips keep moving, pushing his cum in as deeply into you as possible, plugging it inside with his throbbing length regardless of the sting of overstimulation.

It takes just moments from you to cool down from the pleasure burning deep within you. Your moans fade to breathless gasps for air, your ministrations finally halt until you rest in each other’s arms with the crackles of the fire pit being your ambiance.

Zayne slowly presses soft pecks on your cheeks, your forehead, your temple, worshipping you in the afterglow of your unwinding, whispering words of affection to you as exhaustion starts to overcome you.

“Are you alright?” His voice is hoarse and raspy, yet as soft as a whisper. Barely able to move, considering you are both still very much snug in your mating press, you hum with a smile. He swiftly eases your legs, turning you both over so that you may rest more comfortably.

“Very much so.” You could be like this forever. Comfortable and safe in his arms. But when daybreak arrives, you will have to deal with your newfound fate.

Zayne can tell you’re deep in thought. He nuzzles his nose on your cheek to grab your attention. You rather enjoy his act of affection. “What is plaguing your mind, my love?”

“We have to find a way to disarm the tension.” You grumble. “I can outlive them all now, but that would dwindle my aunt’s persistence. And the staff… how will they respond to seeing me in this state?” Your recent act of devotion shared with him slowly dawns upon you. “What will my handmaidens think when they find us in the morning?”

A twinge of doubtful worry pokes Zayne. His lips curve into a pout as his eyes widen like small balls of light. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Absolutely not.” You cut him off. How preposterous of him to even think that way. “My concern is not their opinion. I would be more than happy to have you by my side for eternity. It’s the giggles and teasing looks they will give me that I worry about.”

“I think I can handle that,” He laughs, nuzzling you again to ease your tension. Let your servants tease you, he thinks. It’s an open signal that you have found joy again. He assumes there will be initial concern and shock considering he never informed them that he is a vampire, but they will soon grow accustomed to it.

If not for the sake of acceptance, then they would for the sake of their Countess. Which you will soon be, by all means necessary.

“Worry yourself with it when the sun rises.” Zayne pecks your lips once more. His cock slowly rises between you as you snake your arms around him.

“The night still has pleasures for us to indulge in.”

#hold this for me #i'm about to go to bed and i wanna read this in the morning #ty uwu

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