#she has a reason for being afraid of vampires she’s not just a dick jsjdjdjjd

[hawnks]

she has a fascination with his teeth.

he’s always known it— from the first time they met, when he paid her his best, roguish smile, and her eyes drifted to the dangerous glint of his fangs.

this was, of course, seconds before she bolted, and for months he’d done his best to keep everything predatory about him hidden, including (especially) his teeth.

but now, even with her snuggled on his chest, content and dozing, he catches her gaze fixed on his mouth, the little indents his fangs purse into his bottom lip.

“I love you,” he murmurs, peering down at her, studying her. minutely, her eyes follow the motion of his canines.

she likes his lips, of course. he’s made sure of that. tongue, too. these were pleasureable things, though, flesh almost the same as hers. she’s comfortable with them. she recognizes them.

but his teeth are a foreign artifact, something that signifies the difference between them, a reminder of how alien he really is. they’ve always obsessed her, even before she loved him back, even when they disgusted her.

and he can’t help himself. he feels her heartbeat pick up, a gasp settle in her throat. he can smell the dread coiling around them both.

and she lets him. it’s one of the things he cherishes most about her— that he could do anything to her, and she would let him.

he lifts one of her delicate (human, god, so human) hands to his mouth. he kisses each of her knuckles, smiling when she sighs, warm and pliable.

he prises a single finger from her, gives it a languid, savoring lick. and with the gentlest, tenderest pressure, he presses a fang into the soft meat of her fingertip. not enough to break the skin, but enough to be a warning, he could. it would be so easy, so simple.

he meets her eyes, dilated, peering back at him.

in an instant, in the span of one of her rabbit-quick heartbeats, he could become the heinous, violent thing she feared him to be.

and yet— he smells her desire, too. beneath the anxiety is the luxurious scent of want. the braiding of these primal, sensuous sensations.

he’s teaching her: fear doesn’t negate the lust. in fact, sometimes they are the same thing.