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chelsfic · 4 years

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Five Times Nandor Tried and Failed to Make a New Vampire, and One Time He Succeeded - Guillermo x Nandor fic (one-shot)

WWDITS Masterlist

Summary: Journey into Nandor’s past and discover the real reason he’s been so hesitant to turn Guillermo all these years...

A/N: I hope you enjoy this small offering!! If you like and comment that would make me a very happy little writer creature.

Warnings: Crack, Fluff, Smut, mentions of concubines in Nandor’s human past, Blood drinking...obviously

---

“Truth be told, I’m not feeling my usual plucky, intrepid self.”

Nandor bares his fangs in a nervous smile. He’s sitting stiffly on the chaise in his crypt, fiddling with his rings as the documentary people question him about tonight’s...big event.

The vampire lifts his eyes to the ceiling and exhales before continuing, “It’s just--and I don’t like talking about this, but Guillermo says I need to work on expressing my...feelings--it’s just that in the past I might not always have been... entirely successful in making new vampires.”

There’s a beat of awkward silence during which Nandor casually picks at some lint on his sleeve.

“I mean, there was my nineteenth wife…”

---

Andrakis

Nandor languished in the empty halls of his palace for a week after his thirty-seven wives left. But at a certain point there comes a time to stop moping and start acting. Plus he’d eaten all of the servants and he was a little alarmed by the crowd of peasants outside armed with pitchforks and torches.

So, his new vampiric form was a little problematic. He was now homeless, wifeless and--worst of all--horseless. Driven from his land, Nandor was forced to take refuge from the lethal light of day in whatever haphazard way he could. He snuck into wine cellars. He broke into catacombs. And, most shamefully, he even buried himself in the earth when no other shelter was available. But at least his new state gave him the means to solve one of his problems.

There was no reason that Nandor should have to walk the night alone. He thought he remembered enough of what transpired on the battlefield to be able to turn someone else into a vampire. And as soon as the thought occurred to him he knew there was only one person with whom he wished to share this cursed gift.

Andrakis . His favorite wife. She was sweet and young, with a magnificent ample backside that Nandor loved to squeeze and slap. She had not yet bore him any children but perhaps that was for the best. No messy loose ends for her to leave behind. He knew she would agree for she, alone among his wives, had wept sorrowfully as they rode away.

Nandor used his new vampiric senses to find her. It took months, but eventually he tracked her back to her family home along the Euphrates. He walked through lands scorched and ruined by his own army and he thought about the first time he laid eyes on Andrakis. As he recalled, the town was on fire and his men were pillaging the wealthy houses for gold and jewels. They were also rounding up the attractive, young citizens for...reasons. Nandor took one look at his sweet Andrakis and said, “No! That one is for me and me only!”

So romantic.

He could have kept her as his concubine, but Nandor was infatuated with her sweet, soft spoken ways and her delicious round thighs. He gave her jewels and furs and when he finally returned from the campaign he made her one of his wives. All Nandor’s wives loved him, of course, because if they didn’t he would have their heads chopped off. But it was different with Andrakis. She seemed to truly care. She fretted when he went into battle, insisting that she be the one to help him don his armor. She cried real tears and begged him to be safe and return to her. It really moved him. Also, again, she had a fantastic ass.

The night he, at last, found her, Nandor floated up to her window, scratching at the wooden shutters and calling to her softly.

“My sweet Andrakis! It is I, your husband, Nandor the Relentless! I’ve come to assert my claim on you, cherished one! Do you...want to, maybe, come to the window now and let me inside?”

With his heightened abilities, he could hear her soft gasp and the rustle of fabric as she pushed back her bed coverings and slowly approached the window. Nandor heard her heart racing, the thundering gush of blood flowing through her veins and her trembling breath. He opened his mouth and his eyes rolled back with pleasure as he caught the smell of her blood just on the other side of those thin planks of wood.

“Time to open up, sweet one!” Nandor singsonged, placing his hand on the shutter as if he could reach through and grab her.

“Is it really you, my husband?” Her voice was as soft and sweet as he remembered.

“It is really, really me, Andrakis!”

She unlatched the window and Nandor beamed at the sight of her pretty, round face. That may have been a mistake--he kept forgetting about the fangs--the poor woman took a quick step back and brought her hands to her chest in shock.

“Oh, my Nandi! What has happened to you?” her eyes widened and she took a cautious step toward the window, peeking out over the sill, “You are flying, dear one!”

“Isn’t it great?!” Nandor laughed, kicking his legs out merrily and doing a little twirl. “I thought you might want to join me. You know...with the flying and the eternal life and the--ehm--blood drinking.”

She started to shake her head before he even finished and Nandor’s smile faltered. He rushed back to the window sill and placed his hands there, just on the outside edge of the invisible barrier protecting the home’s occupants.

“Andrakis...I am so lonely. And...and there is no one to help me with my armor or give me a massage when my head hurts. I think you liked being my wife, didn’t you?”

The woman’s eyes flood with tears and she comes even closer, leaning onto the window sill and reaching out a shaking hand to press against his bearded cheek.

“I love you, Nandi! And I am honored to be your wife, always. I will not take another husband, but… Nandor, I am frightened!”

“My honey,” Nandor crooned, laying his forehead against hers as she leaned out the window, “There is nothing to fear. I will protect you forever if you will stay by side.”

---

“...and then I ate her.”

Nandor held his hands out and shrugged his shoulders, “What are you going to do? These things happen, right? No! I was very upset about it for the next eighty years or so. She trusted me to take care of her and I fucking ate her!”

Nandor stares into space for a long moment. He’s had eight centuries to get over the loss of his favorite wife so it’s not grief that shows on his pinched face. It looks more like apprehension and self-doubt. The crew asks a muffled question and he starts as if they’ve woken him from a daydream.

“No...no I do not think I would ever recover if I were to lose control with my Guillermo,” his hands clench into fists on his knees. “I will not lose control.”

There’s more silence and one of the crew members suggests cutting the interview when Nandor continues as if he hasn’t heard them, “Guillermo is strong. He’s a cool, vampire killer guy now. He will be alright. He...he has to be alright.”

---

“Nadja?” Nandor stands at the threshold to her and Laszlo’s crypt, anxiously plucking his fingers in the air. “May I speak with you about something in private? In the fancy room?”

Nadja is braiding her dolly’s hair. There’s something really creepy about that thing that Nandor can’t quite put his finger on. Like it’s always watching him. Yeesh . Nadja rolls her eyes and snaps, “Can’t we talk in here? I’m going to tell Laszlo whatever pig-brained scheme you’re wanting to talk about anyway…”

Nandor glances at Laszlo, hunched over and diddling the keys of his organ with a shit-eating grin, “That’s true, old chap. There are no secrets between me and my sweet mamtam…”

Laszlo winks smarmily and Nandor rolls his eyes, “Please, Nadja! It is just a formality!”

She shrieks in aggravation, accidentally yanking the doll’s hair and then cooing apologetically at the thing. Nandor grimaces uncomfortably.

“Fine, you stupid ostrich. But this better be quick!”

Once he’s properly secured the curtain and made sure to check for eavesdroppers, Nandor lays it out for Nadja. He speaks haltingly and without meeting her eyes.

“So...you see, now that Guillermo and I are...are...more than master and familiar, I am wanting to make him a vampire. But you may have noticed that my past attempts in this area have been a little shaky…”

“Shaky! I think you mean totally fucked up the rotten asshole! Don’t forget you told me all about Babsy the Brainscrambled!”

---

Babaius

Babaius was a little guy he met a couple hundred years after the whole thing with Andrakis. He was a Wallachian painter’s apprentice and he had agreed to do a gratis portrait of Nandor for the practice. The portrait was flat and middling, but what did you want? It was the 16th century and the cool Renaissance shit hadn’t exactly reached the backwoods of Eastern Europe quite yet. More important was the fact that this cute painter guy had managed to ingratiate himself with the apex predator he had unwittingly invited into his home.

Originally, Nandor’s plan was to kill him once the portrait was complete. But the longer he sat there, staring back at the man as he worked with that cute little half-smirk on his face, the longer Nandor had to appreciate his form. Babaius was not as curvy and sensuous as Andrakis. He was taller and leaner. But his lips were pleasantly plump and his fingers long and elegant. Again, Nandor felt the weight of eternal loneliness and he began to wonder.

This time he made sure to feed beforehand. When he arrived at the human’s rooms he found him looking more excited than Nandor had ever seen him.

“It’s complete!” he gushed, grabbing Nandor’s hand and pulling him over to the easel. “Come see!”

Nandor stared at the clumsy, dour-faced rendering of himself and smiled politely. Is this really what I look like? Why is my head so small?

He felt the weight of Babaius’s hopeful eyes on him and schooled his voice into false praise, “Wow! It’s...so...wow! You sure used a lot of...orange on my face, didn’t you? Bold choice…”

“I’m so pleased that you like it, Nandor,” the human’s voice was slightly breathless and he looked up through his lashes coquettishly. Ah ha!

“Yes, well, now that that’s done…” Nandor swept Babaius’s long hair off his shoulder and plucked at the collar of his thin shirt. “Perhaps we could discuss other things…”

“ Oh, yes! ” Babaius trilled, launching himself into Nandor’s arms and frantically dropping kisses on his neck, chin and jaw. “I thought ...but I wasn’t certain… but yes, Nandor! Yes!”

Nandor wrapped his arms around the man’s back and laughed a little at just how easy this was going to be. No mistakes this time. He was completely and totally in control.

---

“Alright, Najda! I get it! I know you have to give them more than just one drop of blood now, okay?”

Nadja nods somberly, “That poor man. Could not even remember his own name after you turned him. What happened to him again?”

“I ripped off his head,” Nandor snaps, sinking into the couch cushions in a sulk. “It was the humane thing to do.”

Nadja squints her eyes trying to remember something, “But wasn’t there someone else after…?”

Nandor’s lips thin into a narrow line and he crosses his arms over his chest with a huff of annoyance, “I suppose you mean Aggy the Shrieker?”

---

Agnes

Agnes was something called a Quaker, which meant that she did not go about wearing a crucifix. She was also highly susceptible to hypnosis. Nandor didn’t think this had anything to do with her Quaking, it was just a nice bonus. She’d served him well for a number of years, procuring a very fine assortment of virgins for him night after night. The good lady was entirely ignorant to the fact that it was she who drew these young innocents to their doom. Nandor erased her memories each time before sending her away. She would hem and cluck along with the other Friends when news of a disappearance reached her ears.

After a few decades, Nandor noticed that her face was starting to turn wrinkly and her movements were not as swift as they once were. The prospect of finding another familiar with a brain as soft and accepting as Agnes’s was a wearying thought. Enough so that he considered, once again, trying his hand at creating a new vampire.

This time it was a sure thing. Agnes appeared at his doorstep that night, like always. At her side was a fresh-faced boy whose blood positively shouted his innocence. Delicious . Nandor would feed first. Then he would just do a quick refresher of Agnes’s hypnosis so that the poor lady did not have a fright once she saw Nandor’s blood stained face. And then a quick nip and plenty of blood. Voila! A new wrinkly-faced vampire baby is born.

The plan was faultless.

---

“And no hypnosis! Alright. Seems nit-picky, but fine!” Nandor grumbles. He seems suddenly to remember that Nadja is helping him and his voice softens, “ Please, Nadja . No more walking on memory street. Just tell me what to do so that I do not hurt Guillermo. I cannot stand the thought of him becoming a shrieker .”

“Nandor, you beautiful giant baby,” Nadja’s face gentles into genuine sympathy. “I’m going to tell you just what to do. Even you won’t be able to mess this up.”

And she does. She tells him how to listen to his human’s heart and count the seconds in between beats, waiting until just the right moment to finish drinking. She advises him to prepare his blood ahead of time, decanting it into a vial or mug. He should not count on Guillermo being conscious enough to suckle from his wrist as he’d originally intended. Pour the blood down his throat if he has to. Once he drinks the blood the transition will begin, but Nandor’s work is not done. He must procure for his new vampire the most succulent of virgin feasts. He must care for him during the sickness. He must watch over him and make sure that the baby vampire does not do anything silly like run out into the sunlight or drink a gallon of holy water.

“You must be resolved and sure in your actions!” Nadja finally says, casting a skeptical glance at the immortal warrior. “You think you can handle all that?”

Nandor sits there looking shell shocked for a moment before twitching his mouth into a forced smile and holding up two thumbs.

“OK-A!”

---

On his way back to his crypt Nandor glances into the camera and leans in conspiratorially.

“She does not even know about Roger the Rocker or Benjy…” he whispers, his lips folding into an embarrassed frown.

---

Roger

During the 1970s Nandor went through a brief but intense love affair with punk rock. Disco would soon supplant the vampire’s fixation on studded leather and the Sex Pistols, but for a few fleeting years he was, truly, insufferable.

“ Fucking goats’ balls ! Nandor! We are trying to have a blood feast in here! Will you turn off that unholy screeching!?” Nadja shouted, blood dripping down her chin as she drew back from the pathetically mewling woman sandwiched between herself and her husband.

Laszlo reared back with a lecherous grin on his bloody lips, “Did I hear you mention something about unholy screeching, my sweet dimplebottom?”

“ Oh, Laszlo! ” Nadja giggled, leaning over the dying victim to latch onto her lover’s mouth.

Nandor slammed the door to his crypt and rolled his eyes, “Don’t mind them, Roger. They’re just a couple of sell-out perverts who don’t understand ay-narchy and non-conformationism.”

Roger was a young human man with spiked green hair and a studded leather vest. He was the coolest familiar Nandor had ever had. He was also an alcoholic and a heavy drug user and half the time he didn’t even do what Nandor asked of him. But once he explained about “the man” and toppling “the system”...well, Nandor still didn’t get it but he was impressed! He felt that Roger would bring a certain rebellious youth to their cohort that might give them a cutting edge in these modern times.

The problem was that Nandor had never tried drug blood before. It didn’t hit him until Roger was half-drained but then the world spun off its axis. Nandor ripped his face away from Roger’s savaged neck, stumbling backward and falling down hard on his ass. The vampire exploded into a fit of giggles as the familiar twitched limply on the floor beside him.

“Roger! I am ball tripping!” Nandor laughed, turning his head to look at his friend, “Whoopsie! Almost forgot! Time for a little drinky, Roger…”

Nandor tore into his own wrist, ripping a jagged wound open with his fangs and smearing the gore over Roger’s lips and chin.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” Nandor cackled, falling back down and letting his wrist fall limp against the human’s mouth. He started singing softly under his breath, “Ayyyynarchy and the U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!”

In the end Nandor was so high he went to his slumber completely forgetting about the moaning, half-turned man on the floor of his crypt. He woke the next night to find Roger wandering around the front lawn, sun-burned and hideously deformed. He also had no memory of who Nandor was or anything at all about his human life.

Nandor wouldn’t see him again until decades later when he caught the skeevy creep trying to take a bite out of Guillermo at the Sassy Cat Club. Nandor was so spooked to see the evidence of his past failure standing next to his most cherished human companion that he...perhaps handled the incident in a less-than-totally-gallant manner.

---

Benjy

Benjy...to be honest, Nandor isn’t entirely sure what came of the old clunker. He turned him and dumped him. Maybe not his finest moment but...Nandor had other things on his mind at the time…

---

Guillermo

The moment that Guillermo flew to their rescue at the Nouveau Théâtre des Vampires, Nandor felt something shift inside his chest. It was an actual physical sensation like a key turning in a lock. How many years had he spent building moats, walls and fortresses between himself and his handsome, caring, devoted, achingly good familiar in order to protect his sweet innocence from the poison that was Nandor the Relentless? And all along he’d been underestimating him! Nandor watched Guillermo twirl, kick, punch and stake his way through a theater full of angry vampires. In the end he stood alone on a mountain of conquered enemies, covered in blood and heaving with the adrenaline of battle.

Nandor had never been more aroused.

He was silent and brooding on the drive home. He sat in the passenger seat and kept flicking his eyes in Guillermo’s direction, hoping to catch his gaze. But his ex-familiar kept his eyes fixed on the road, his face a storm cloud of some scary-looking emotion that Nandor couldn’t name. The vampire felt unease crawl up his spine. Was he planning to leave again as soon as he dropped them off at the house?

Nandor cringed in embarrassment as he watched the look of disappointment cross Guillermo’s features at the sight of the wrecked foyer. Dead bodies littered the floor, candle wax and blood stained every surface. He was overcome with shame and humiliation that they had made such a mess of the home Guillermo had toiled to maintain for eleven years.

Guillermo stood awkwardly in the front doorway, not quite inside and not quite outside, hovering on the threshold of their home. It was their home , wasn’t it? Nandor’s eyes flicked to the sad, dirty mattress in the cupboard beneath the stairs and he silently cursed himself. It’s possible he may not have made this quite a happy home for Guillermo.

“I’ll just...go now…” Guillermo’s voice was soft and uncertain again, as if he hadn’t just committed a bad ass massacre.

“No!” the word strangled from Nandor’s throat and he lurched forward, raising his hand to stop the human. For a split second he was completely unguarded and the raw desperation in his voice and on his face froze Guillermo in his tracks. Then Nandor’s eyes shifted to his fellow vampires, feeling the weight of their stares and he continued in a closer approximation to his usual haughty authority, “I would speak with you a moment. In private.”

Once the door to his crypt clicked shut Nandor rounded on Guillermo, taking him by the shoulders and pressing him into the heavy wooden door. He loomed over the human for a moment, fangs bared, breathing raggedly as he scented him. Guillermo’s intoxicating, virginal aroma was mixed with the tang of his enemies’ blood. The irresistible fragrance threatened to overcome the vampire and he let out a pitiful mewling cry as he pressed even closer. Nandor’s forehead thunked against the door and his body was flush with Guillermo’s. Now he would know . The hard, bulging evidence of Nandor’s arousal was pressed into the human’s soft thigh-- unmistakable . Nandor keened a sob and his body went boneless as he fell to his knees in supplication before the human.

“Guillermo, please!” Nandor sobbed.

Guillermo stood as if paralyzed, staring back at his former master with shocked, wide eyes. Nandor felt broken, like one of those colorful donkeys split open and pouring out his guts. He did not exactly know what it was he wanted. Everything about this moment was highly uncomfortable. For one thing, the floor was very hard and hurty on his knees. For another thing, his erection was straining painfully in his pants. Also, he was realizing for the first time in his long, long life that there existed a person whom Nandor loved more than himself. And he was desperately, mortally afraid that Guillermo would leave him again.

“What is it, master?” Guillermo flinched at the slip up but he pressed on, his eyes burning with earnest intensity. “What do you want?”

Nandor had known the answer to this question for eleven years. He knew it the first time he laid eyes on the sweet, plump mortal working the panini press at Panera Bread. He knew it the first time Guillermo graced him with his smile after Nandor showed him his fangs. He knew it when Guillermo came to live with them, hauling his rolly luggage case up the front steps and shaking with nerves and excitement. He knew it when he spent hours crafting his familiar’s sweet face from glitter. He knew it when Guillermo cried, silently begging Nandor to give him a reason to stay. He’d known it in a thousand different ways for a thousand different reasons and he’d keep knowing it for a thousand years, long after the flicker of Guillermo’s short human life extinguished.

“You,” Nandor’s voice was a broken whisper. “I want you, Guillermo.”

The air expelled from Guillermo’s lungs in a shaky gasp as he fell to his knees as well. He took the vampire’s face in his warm little hands and Nandor had to remind himself that those were hands capable of plunging a wooden stake through his heart. The very thought sent another wave of lust through him.

Guillermo’s lips trembled and his eyes flooded with tears as he spoke, “If you’re just saying that to manipulate me…”

Nandor grabbed Guillermo’s wrists, circling them with his long fingers, keeping him from removing his hands from Nandor’s face.

“No, Guillermo. I--I have not been a good master to you…” Nandor gulped, fighting years of careful control in order to get the words out. “I’ve lied to you many, many times. Made you think that you were just a servant to me. I thought that I was protecting us both. But...really I was hurting you. When you left me I...I…”

Nandor’s voice trailed off and Guillermo allowed it, not wanting to push his fragile vampire too far.

“If we’re going to do this, I need to know. I need to know what exactly you want from me, Nandor. Because I know what I want. I’ve known for eleven... fucking years,” Guillermo’s voice hardens toward the end and Nandor feels himself go weak. His little Guillermo...so forceful and strong!

Suddenly the human was leaning in and brushing his lips over Nandor’s. It was the barest, gentlest hint of a kiss but it felt like a live wire touching his skin. Nandor’s eyes drifted closed and he saw stars as Guillermo pushed his tongue between his lips and plundered his mouth. Oh, why had he forced them to wait so long for this?

Guillermo pulled back, the combination of his blushing cheeks and the splatter of blood along his jaw was a powerful image. Nandor whined, following Guillermo’s movement and pecking kisses to the man’s mouth.

“Nandor, wait! Stop!” There was mirth in Guillermo’s eyes but a fragile uncertainty as well. “I need you to tell me this is what you want. That I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and find you pretending this never happened. Things have to change if we’re...if we’re going to do this.”

Nandor nodded frantically, pawing at his human’s face as unmanly tears spilled from his eyes and rolled into the whiskers of his beard.

“Yes! Please! I want this. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You’re brave and strong and cool and beautiful and I lo--” Nandor’s mouth snapped shut and his dark eyes widened in fear at the words that almost slipped out. But when he took in his human’s guarded yet hopeful expression he growled and forced them out. “I love you, Guillermo.”

Guillermo choked on a sob and his face crumbled rather alarmingly.

“I love you so fucking much you stupid asshole,” he replied.

Nandor scowled, “Hey! There’s no need for all that!”

But before he could work himself up to being truly affronted, Guillermo launched himself at him, knocking Nandor over backwards and attacking his face with his mouth.

“Things are going to change,” Guillermo repeated between open-mouthed kisses along Nandor’s bearded jaw.

“Yes!”

“I’m not gonna dig graves for you anymore or polish your boots!”

“...Alright.”

“And,” Guillermo ripped open the fly of Nandor’s trousers, eliciting a delighted howl from the vampire, “you’re going to make me a vampire.”

---

“So tonight is the night!” Nandor injects false levity into his voice as he strides down the hallway carrying a stack of towels on one arm. The camera shakes as the crew follows behind him.

“I’ve made all of the arrangements! We have a juicy virgin in the cell…”

The camera peaks into a dimly lit closet where a young man is bound and gagged. Across his forehead giant block letters spell out: “DO NOT EAT! GUILLERMO’S VIRGIN FEAST!”

“I’ve decanted plenty of my blood…”

Nandor holds up a mason jar filled with thick, dark crimson liquid as he mounts the stairs.

“I’ve got the towels and Guillermo has a first aid box ready…”

He finally arrives at the door to the big, blue bedroom and turns around to face the camera with an apologetic smile.

“ Vampires only! ” He slams the door in their faces.

Once the door closes behind him Nandor lets out a long breath and his head falls back to hit the wood with a loud thunk. He lets the facade drop for just a second and the cloying anxiety and terror of what he is about to do rises to the surface. Then Guillermo looks up at him from where he’s sitting up on his big new bed and Nandor forces a cheery smile.

“Who’s ready for their unholy transformation?!” he warbles, shaking the jar of blood in his hand.

Guillermo grins, coming over to stand before him in all his warm, soft, human grandeur. Nandor drops his head and plucks at the sleeve of his ex-familiar’s thick, stripy sweater. He hopes that Guillermo will not think himself too cool to wear such garments once he is a vampire. He’s grown to love Guillermo’s simple human clothes.

“Nandor…” Guillermo takes the jar and the towels from him, setting them down on his bureau next to the collection of wooden stakes and crucifixes. “You don’t have to pretend. I’m scared too.”

The vampire lets out a breath and tugs his human into his chest, wrapping him in a fierce, suffocating hug. He lets his cheek rest on top of Guillermo’s dear head. Guillermo clings to the front of Nandor’s long tunic, pressing his face into the rich, embroidered fabric and wetting it with his tears.

“It’ll be okay,” Guillermo comforts Nandor, his voice trembling with emotion. In the short weeks since the incident at the theater and since their relationship took such a sharp turn in the right direction, Guillermo has been shocked and pleasantly surprised to find how dramatically the dynamic between them has changed. Guillermo isn’t just Nandor’s equal now. He’s his touchstone, his protector, and his deeply cherished lover.

“You don’t know that, Guillermo,” Nandor sniffles. “What if I brainscramble you like I did to Ba...Baba...Bambie?”

“Babaius?” Guillermo prompts, pulling back from the embrace enough to lock eyes with the weepy vampire. Nandor has told him his whole sorry history of failures and abominations. It was Guillermo’s idea for Nandor to seek out Nadja’s guidance. And though he’s nervous and frightened about his transition...there is no one else in the world from whom Guillermo would accept this gift. “You won’t scramble my brains, Nandor. I trust you.”

The soft cry that Nandor makes at those words cuts to Guillermo’s soul.

Nandor sniffs and attempts to pull himself back together. He speaks confidently, as if his words are an incantation that will somehow conjure success, “Well, of course you trust me, Guillermo. I’m a very strong, cool vampire. There’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to make another vampire when a freaky pervert like Nadja is doing it all over the place.”

Guillermo snorts and pulls Nandor in for another quick squeeze before drawing away toward the bed, “Should we…?”

“Yes...oh! Wait!” Nandor grabs the towels off the bureau, hissing when he accidentally grazes a crucifix with his hand. He hurries forward and starts laying them down on top of Guillermo’s thick comforter. “I don’t want your nice, new bed to get ruined.”

Guillermo smiles warmly as he watches his ex-master’s efforts.

“Well...it’s not like I’ll be sleeping on it anymore after tonight…” he murmurs, causing Nandor to think about the shiny new coffin sitting next to his downstairs.

Nandor shrugs, “No...but we might--you know--do other things on the bed still…”

He smooths his hands over the towels and retrieves the jaw of blood, placing it within easy reach on the nightstand before climbing onto the bed and stretching out in an unintentional come-hither pose. Nandor’s soft, long locks fall over his shoulders and his big, dark eyes look up at Guillermo with longing and terror. He pats the spot beside him on the bed.

Guillermo clambors up after him, stretching out at his side and letting his head fall into the mountain of pillows that Nandor had insisted on purchasing for him after their...reconciliation. He smiles shyly and looks up at the vampire, his cheeks turning bright red.

“Is it alright if we...do some of those ‘ other things ’ first?” he asks, dancing his fingers over Nandor’s tunic. “You know...my last time as a h-human?”

The stutter in Guillermo’s voice interrupts Nandor’s contented perusal of his human’s delicious body and he meets the man’s eyes. Guillermo’s cheeks are irresistibly red and his lips are parted slightly with lust. But his eyebrows are all crinkled and there are still some tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Nandor can’t really relate to Guillermo’s fear. When he was turned he was in the middle of dying on the field of battle. He didn’t have a clue what was happening when the strange vampire descended upon him. What would it feel like to go into it knowingly? To place his life in the hands of the one that he loved knowing there was a chance that things might go terribly wrong?

Guillermo is incredibly brave.

“Yes, my Guillermo,” Nandor cries, leaning in and pressing their mouths together in a desperate kiss. “Anything you want.”

They take their time with the kiss, lips and tongues sliding and probing as they clumsily undress each other. By the time they’re both naked the floor of Guillermo’s bedroom is littered with discarded items of clothing and the towels on the bed are askew. Guillermo throws his leg over Nandor’s thick waist and straddles the man, their aching erections rubbing together as he leans down to trail kisses across Nandor’s hairy chest.

Nandor throws his head back in the pillows, his hair tangling as he writhes underneath Guillermo. He will miss the feeling of his human’s impossible warmth. The way his kisses seem to sear a blazing path over Nandor’s cold skin. The way his silky smooth rod pulses with molten heat. The feeling of plunging inside Guillermo’s fiery, grasping tightness. Nandor curses himself, yet again, for not allowing them both to have this sooner.

Guillermo’s hips rise and fall as he strokes himself against Nandor. The air between them grows humid with their breath and the room fills with the sounds of whimpers and moans. Guillermo places a hand on Nandor’s chest for balance and he leans over to his nightstand to grab the small bottle of lube sitting there.

He holds it aloft and says, as if reading Nandor’s mind, “Do you want to feel me one last time before…?”

Nandor’s lips split into a grin and he grabs the tube from his human’s hand, nodding fervently as he drips the liquid onto his fingers. He’s careful and gentle with his Guillermo, mindful of how new this still is for him. He reaches between his delicious thighs and slides his wet fingers around until he finds what he’s looking for, pressing gently and then more firmly as Guillermo opens up for him.

Guillermo’s breath escapes him and he presses down on Nandor’s fingers with a wanton cry, riding him needily. Once he’s ready, Nandor pours out more liquid, slicking his cock and grasping Guillermo’s hips to move him into position.

“Are you ready, Guillermo?” he asks and the words take on an added meaning with the knowledge of what’s to come hovering in the air between them.

Guillermo senses Nandor’s seriousness in the moment and he meets his eyes, smiling softly before replying, “Yes, Nandor. I’m ready. Really .”

The sex is a revelation and a comfort. Falling into Guillermo is like coming home. It’s like finally finding the place he was always meant to be. Even 700 years ago when Nandor was a ruler in his prime, he never felt this level of peace and belonging. He watches his beautiful, strong, brave human fall apart on top of him. They take turns setting the pace. Guillermo bounces frantically in Nandor’s lap until the vampire grabs his hips and holds him still so he can thrust upward, slowly and tenderly. He penetrates deep until Guillermo is near tears and the human’s poor erection is leaking copiously onto Nandor’s soft belly.

Nandor finally releases his hold on Guillermo’s hips and wraps his hand around his erection, pumping up and down quickly as he bounces the man on his own cock.

“I’m close, Guillermo,” he whispers, stroking the human rapidly to edge him along. “Come with me. Please!”

They fall over the precipice together, panting and clinging as their bodies quake with the intensity of their love making. Guillermo collapses on Nandor’s chest and the vampire wraps his arms around him automatically, soothingly running his palms down his lover’s sweaty back as he twitches and catches his breath.

“You’re getting very good at that, Guillermo,” Nandor murmurs with a hint of teasing in his voice.

Guillermo snorts, “Yeah, I think you’ve almost got the hang of it, too, Nandor.”

Nandor laughs and smacks his behind playfully, “Do not be thinking that just because you’re going to be a vampire you can start being so cheeky with me! I’m still seven hundred and twenty-eight years older than you, mortal.”

Guillermo grins and hums in response, pillowing his head into Nandor’s broad chest with a contented sigh.

After a little while, Nandor shifts Guillermo off of him and lays him down on the bed with a gentle reverence. He picks up one of the towels and uses it to carefully clean him, dabbing between his legs and swiping over his soft stomach. Nandor takes his time, his face turning dark and serious as he contemplates what comes next.

When he’s finally finished he says, almost shyly, “There’s just one more thing I want to do first…”

Nandor stretches out at Guillermo’s side and rests his head over the human’s chest, directly over his beating heart. His hair fans out over Guillermo’s flushed skin and the human brings his fingers up to toy with it as Nandor listens.

Thump...thump...thump…

How many nights has Nandor awoken in his coffin, still gripped by the horror of a half-remembered nightmare and listened for that comforting sound to lull him back to sleep? How often has he heard that steady rhythm interrupted when Nandor did something that particularly stirred his familiar’s illicit attraction? How many thousands of beats has he taken for granted over the years? Soon that steady tattoo will cease forever. Nandor feels panic grip him but he reminds himself that things will be different this time. Guillermo will come back to him as he always does.

He does not feel ready but the hours are ticking away and he’d like to finish this well before dawn. Nandor shuffles up the bed, leaning on an elbow and letting his hair cascade down around Guillermo’s face. He brushes his thumb over his lips, caresses his jaw line and the ridge of his brow. He’s memorizing the way his beloved looks right now, flushed with life.

“Guillermo, I want you to know that even if I do scramble your brains--which I won’t!--but even if I do, I will take care of you forever,” Nandor says, his eyes wide and earnest. “I’ll never abandon you or rip off your head. That’s a promise.”

Guillermo should scoff or snort or roll his eyes but instead he sobs and beams up at Nandor as he answers, “I know, baby. I’ll never leave you or rip off your head either. I promise.”

Nandor nods and his dark eyes shift to focus on the crook of Guillermo’s neck. His skin is still slicked with the cooling sweat of their coupling and Nandor can see his pulse jumping in his throat. He opens his mouth in a hungry leer and his fangs elongate slightly.

“This will hurt, Guillermo,” his voice is dark and menacing, but also mournful. “I am sorry.”

He snakes a hand behind Guillermo’s neck and cradles his head to the side as he lowers his mouth to his vulnerable throat. He hovers there for a moment and marvels at the way his lover’s body surrenders so sweetly to him. Guillermo is soft and loose in his arms, the perfect victim. Nandor banishes that word from his mind. Guillermo, sweet, sensitive, competent, strong, scary, loving, powerful Guillermo. He is not a victim. He plunges his fangs into his human’s soft neck and takes from him the sweetest gift Guillermo has ever given.

Nandor’s terror and anxiety melt away as the blood pours over his tongue and down his throat. He has always known that Guillermo would taste delicious but this is ridiculous. He tastes like the joy of riding John over an open plain, he tastes like the excitement of watching the Dream Team do battle on the basketball court, and, most of all, he tastes like Guillermo. Like fuzzy knit hats and secret smiles and quiet evenings playing chess. Like longing and hunger and wistful pain. Like strength and desire and the thrill of conquest. Nandor drinks deeply, memorizing the flavor as his lover goes more and more limp in his arms.

He listens, once more, to the beating of that heart, just as Nadja said to do. He waits like Guillermo used to do, listening to the pops while he was making his corn kernel snack in the multiwave machine. Once the rhythm begins to slow Nandor pulls back, licking his lips and scrambling for the jar of blood on the nightstand.

He gathers Guillermo into his arms and the human moans low in his throat. Nandor feels unadulterated joy at the sound. He is still here . But when he looks down at his human’s pale, ashen face, a sob tears free from his throat. His lustrous, brilliant Guillermo diminished to such a drab reflection… Nandor mentally slaps himself and unscrews the jar, bringing it to Guillermo’s pale lips.

“Time for your snack now, Guillermo,” Nandor’s voice shakes. He strokes his fingers through the human’s curly hair as he lifts his head and begins to tip the contents of the jar into his open mouth.

Nothing happens for a small eternity. Nandor watches the blood pool in his lover’s mouth and spill out the sides of his lips with a feeling of increasing helplessness.

“Guillermo? Can you still hear me? It’s time to start drinking so you can become a cool vampire just like me and your friend, Armand…”

Guillermo’s eyes are closed and his body is unnaturally still.

“Please drink, Guillermo! I’m going to be very cross with you if you do not!”

His skin looks waxy and he feels heavier in Nandor’s arms. The vampire tugs him further into his lap and clutches him to his chest, tears falling onto the eerily calm face.

“Guillermo, you said you wouldn’t leave me again, please! ”

Guillermo swallows. Nandor watches with a giant, goofy grin on his face as the man’s throat bobs and the blood disappears from his mouth. He brings the jar back up to his lips and continues to hand feed him, taking comfort in the way Guillermo’s lips purse as he drinks down the vampire’s life-giving blood.

“That’s it, my cherished one,” Nandor says, slipping into endearments he used several lifetimes ago. “Drink, sweet honey. And don’t ever fucking scare me like that again !”

Guillermo snorts as he drains the dredges from the jar, blood bubbles forming on his lips as they curve into a smile. Nandor watches, his eyes wide and wondering, as Guillermo’s eyes flutter open and he feels a sense of intense relief when he recognizes that smile as the same one he fell in love with eleven years ago. Only...you know...with the fangs and the blood stains…

---

“So, I’d say it was a marked success!” Nandor shouts into the camera a few nights later. “Of course, there was a lot of vomiting and achy-pains in the beginning...but once that passed and he drank some human blood everything was OK-A! Isn’t that right, Guillermo?”

The camera zooms out to include Guillermo in the shot. He’s sitting next to Nandor on the chaise, their hands clasped together between them. His skin tone is very much the same although without the lively blush that used to grace his cheeks. He’s noticeably in tact, no pointed ears or deformities and seemingly in full possession of his brains.

He smiles and the camera zooms in on his newly minted fangs.

“ A-OK , Nandor,” he corrects in an affectionate tone. He leans over and kisses the immortal warrior on the cheek.

Nandor, still unused to public displays of affection, smiles nervously and answers with a roll of his eyes, “As I said, Guillermo!”

#nandor x guillermo #guillermo x nandor #nandermo #nandor x guillermo fanfic #wwdits #wwdits fanfic #smut

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frostytherobot · 8 years

Text

here i wrote a shitty wwdits fanfic about deacon comforting stu and i can’t put it on ao3 because i don’t have an account so HERE

i’m the worst writer ever

“That must be Nick and Stu!” Viago exclaimed from the kitchen as he heard a rapping at the door. It had been almost a week since the two had last come over to spend time with their friends in the flat, and a few days since the last full moon. Stu would have recovered from his last bout of lycanthropy and would be up for another hangout session with the other vampires. He pulled off the rubber gloves and set aside the sponge and towel he was using to clean the table, rushing into the hallway to meet the pair at the door.

Viago smiled as he pulled the front door open and set eyes on his two friends. “Nick! Stu! It’s good to see you! Come in, you two!” he added, making sure Nick would be able to enter the house. Unfortunately the rules apply to even the houses of other vampires. What a pain.

“Hey everyone,” Nick said. He entered and Stu trailed behind almost reluctantly as the other two housemates came down the hallway to greet them at the door and usher them into the living room as they usually did when the pair arrived at the house.

“How have you two been this past week?” Viago continued to question as they all took seats, Nick flopping himself down on the couch next to Vladislav and Viago while Stu took a seat next to a lounging Deacon opposite the other three. “We haven’t seen you since last Thursday night.”

“Everything’s been going alright on my end,” Nick answered in his casual tone. “Just been doing the usual, y'know. Going to bars, getting victims. Just the usual.”

“You haven’t been turning anyone into vampires again, have you?” Vladislav interjected.

“Oh, no. No.” Nick gave Vlad a look. “I remember what you all told me. I’m not an idiot.”

Vlad was going to say something, but decided to let it slide. “How about you, Stu?”

“Yeah, how was the full moon?” Deacon asked.

The color from Stu’s cheeks had disappeared, and he avoided eye contact with everyone in the room, including Nick.

“Fine,” Stu replied. He scooted away from Deacon.

“Did anything cool happen this time?” Deacon continued his questioning.

“…No.” Stu had never been one to talk much, but his single-word answers put everyone in the room at unease. He turned his head towards the doorframe in an attempt to keep the vampires from looking at his face.

The three flatmates turned their gazes to Nick instead, hoping he’d have an answer for Stu’s behavior. He shrugged and shook his head.

“Hey, Stu?” Nick said, “You’re acting kinda weird, mate. You wanna tell us what’s going on?”

Stu glanced at Nick from the corner of his eye before turning his gaze back into the hallway. “Nothing’s going on,” he replied curtly.

Viago frowned. “Did something happen during the full moon? Something with the other werewolves?”

Stu furrowed his brow. “No,” he said. “Nothing happened,” he lied again, his frustration growing. He wished his friends would get off the subject.

“You have to tell us what’s going on, mate, or we can’t help,” Nick added.

“I told you, nothing is going on. Could you drop it?” Stu replied. He stood up and began to leave the room.

“Stu, come back,” Viago said, trying to keep him from leaving.

“Stu–” Vladislav began to call after him, but was interrupted.

“I said nothing happened!” Stu turned and snapped at them, his eyes glowing yellow and mouth snarling. He blinked a few times, his eyes returning to their normal shade of blue, and, realizing what had just happened to him, darted into the hallway and out of the house, the door slamming behind him.

The four remaining friends sat in silence, looking at each other and wondering what could possibly have happened to Stu during the full moon.

“We should go talk to him,” Viago said, finally breaking the awkward silence and standing up to head towards the door.

“Not all at once,” Vlad countered. “You saw how he stormed out. He will end up running away from us again.”

“Yeah, and we can’t risk him turning into a werewolf when it’s not a full moon,” Nick added. “I’ve talked to Anton, and he says it’s not good for ‘em to do that. Wears ‘em out and can hurt 'em more than on full moon nights.”

“So what do we do?” Viago questioned.

“Well, it’s obvious. One of us is going to have to bring him back here so we can talk to him,” Vlad answered. He got up as well and made it into the hallway before the others stopped him.

“Wait, why do you get to go talk to him?” Nick asked. “He’s my best friend, I should go.”

“Nick, I don’t mean to sound rude, but… Well, you’re not exactly the best at comforting people,” Viago said, hoping he hadn’t hurt another of his friends’ feelings.

“Yes, you never help to work out problems,” Vlad added, “you just try to distract others from what’s going on and nothing gets solved. That’s why I should go.”

“You’re not that good at comforting others, either, Vladislav.” Viago turned to face the other vampire in the hall, his hands on his hips.

“Why do you say that? I’m great at comfort,” Vlad retorted, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest.

“Tough love isn’t exactly comfort,” Viago said. “It doesn’t work most of the time, and quite frankly comes off as mean.”

“And what is it that you do, Viago? You just coddle everyone if they’re having a hard time and never let them have a chance to deal with it themselves,” Vlad raised his voice.

“You don’t have to shout!” Viago exclaimed.

“Neither do you!”

“Would you all just shut up?!” Deacon said, stepping between his friends and finally speaking up after watching the scene get out of hand. “This is about Stu. Not whatever bullshit minor things you hate about each other.” He turned his back from the scene and began to walk for the door.

“Where are you going?” Viago said, beginning to walk after Deacon, who now had his hand on the doorknob.

“I’m going to talk to Stu.” Before the other three could get a word in edgewise, Deacon slammed the door behind him.

Luckily, Stu wasn’t too far away. In fact, he was only sitting on the steps to the porch, arms crossed and perched on his knees, faced pushed into his forearms. Deacon carefully took a seat next to him.

“Hey,” Deacon started, turning his head towards Stu, who turned his head away in response. There was silence for a moment. “You heard all of that inside, didn’t you?”

Stu nodded, still not looking at his friend.

“They just want to make sure you’re okay.” Deacon crossed his arms against his chest as a gust of cold wind blew across the porch. He should’ve thought about grabbing his jersey.

“Well, I’m not,” Stu finally said, breaking his silence. “You all figured that out already, though.” He pressed his face further into his forearms and stared at the waning moon and the clouds that partly shrouded its reflected light.

“You aren’t exactly the best liar, Stu.” Deacon said with a half smile. “Listen,” he started, planting his feet firmly in front of where he sat and leaning forward, “I know you don’t want to talk about what happened, but it isn’t good to keep all of these things locked inside you, understand? It is bad for the brain.”

Stu turned his gaze to Deacon. “Yeah, I guess it is.” He drew in a deep breath and removed his face from his arms and confessed. “I killed someone.”

Deacon raised an eyebrow. “…That’s it?”

Stu frowned and turned away from Deacon again. “That’s why I didn’t want to bring it up. None of you would take it seriously.”

“No, you misunderstand, Stu.” Deacon shifted on the step. “It’s just that you’ve killed someone before.”

“That was different. That guy was going to kill Vladislav, I couldn’t sit and watch that guy murder him.” He lowered his voice. “Especially since he was just trying to protect me. This time it wasn’t defensive.”

“So you feel terrible because of this?” Deacon asked.

“Yeah, I kind of just said that,” Stu said, a bit irritated.

“Do you want me to tell you something?” Deacon said, dropping his volume. “I felt bad about my first kill, too.” He uncrossed his arms and shifted his body to face Stu fully. “It was a girl from the town near Petyr’s castle. She was leaving for a different town a few days over to sell wares like I used to.” He looked up at the sky. “Obviously, she didn’t make it there because I had eaten her. I went back to Petyr’s castle upset with myself, but do you know what Petyr had said to me?” he asked.

“Hm?” Stu answered.

“He had said, 'You are a vampire. You need blood to live. This is not a question of morality, but of survival.’ But he had said it to me in Polish, which I don’t think you can understand. Can you?”

Stu shook his head. “But I’m not a vampire, Deacon.” He said. “I’m a werewolf. I don’t need to eat people to live. It’s not about survival for me.”

“But it is not something you can control,” Deacon reminded him. “I cannot control the fact that I need blood to live. You cannot control what happens during the full moon. Either way, we might kill someone in the process.”

Stu was silent, pondering what Deacon had said. He was right. This wasn’t something he was going to be able to control. At least not well.

“I have a question for you,” Deacon said, breaking the silence between them. “You have talked to the other werewolves about this, yes?”

“Not really,” Stu answered. “They seemed to play it off really casually. I woke up with someone’s upper body next to me and all they had to say was that they were glad it wasn’t someone they knew.”

“Maybe you should bring up your feelings to them, yes? They are supposed to be your pack, and to help you out with your werewolf-ness.” Deacon twiddled his thumbs. “After all, this is the first time this has happened. I am not a werewolf, as you know. I do not know how to deal with it from a werewolf’s point of view. But they are your pack, and they can help where I cannot.”

Stu nodded, and Deacon rested his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“This reminds me of the time we all thought you were dead,” Deacon added, smiling slightly. “Nick was taking it rather hard. I sat with him and told him how you would have wanted to die in a cool way, like being attacked by werewolves.” He laughed a bit, and Stu gave him a confused look. Deacon continued, a bit more seriously. “We all missed you when we thought you were dead. You are very important to all of us.”

“Thanks, Deacon,” Stu said. “I appreciate it.”

“Do you feel better from this?” Deacon asked.

“Better than before, yeah.”

“Then let’s get you back inside. We can get you one of your beers from the fridge.” Deacon stood up and offered his hand to Stu, who took in and pulled himself up from the steps on the porch.

Viago, Vladislav, and Nick all scurried away from the door before Deacon opened it and ushered Stu back inside, one hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Oh, Stu, you’re back!” Viago said, trying to brighten the mood.

“We were starting to worry about you. We thought maybe we pushed you too far.” Vlad said, looking at Viago and hoping that was the right thing to say. Viago nodded.

“You okay, man?” Nick asked, sincerity permeating his usual nonchalant tone of voice.

Stu looked at Deacon. “Yeah, I’m alright now.”

Deacon smiled and patted his friend’s back. “Let’s get you a beer, Stu.”

#what we do in the shadows #fic #uuuugh bad

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