#vampire secondo

[alien-the-ghost]

⛧WIP Wednesday⛧

Vampire Secondo x gn!reader

Out of my hundreds of wips (oops) I bestow a small snippet of vampire Secondo. I haven't written a fic surrounding this at all (yet, maybe) just felt like going on a feral drabble that night :)

Context: you allow Secondo to feed from you from the first time, after finding out that he is not everything he seemed Tags: descriptions of blood and draining Words: 537

You expected a searing pain, but the sensation was one warmer than you'd ever experienced. As fast as he scrambled toward you, his fangs were still precise, barely leaving as much as a pinch. Breathing through it slowly, you were unable to recall blood ever leaving your body as gently as the way he drew it out. This feeling wasn't like being drained at all, not with how he held you so close, or the soft groans that rumbled from the throat of the starved man. 

After you’d seen his face contorted in the same primal hunger you’d seen from many before him, you expected to be ripped to pieces when you bore your shoulder to him without a second thought. It barely even mattered that perhaps he wasn’t the man you’d spent the past few months slowly getting to know, not in the moment you saw such pain in his eyes. Whatever he was, you never wanted to see that look on him ever again. Now there was certainly no room for doubt or fear in your mind. The way his tongue dabbed into your skin, so delicately, it was still the same caring man you knew before.

Your hand embraced the back of his neck, notably much warmer than you'd expected. No longer was he as cold as a corpse, not when your blood was flowing through his body. His skin had been so pale before, but you could see in his face your warmth bringing a lovely shade of pink to his cheeks again. How could you possibly feel drained, when you were becoming one with him.

You felt empty suddenly, as if he noticed the second you started to feel light headed. His lips stayed, still grazing the small wound, metallic liquid lingering on the flesh. It continued to bleed, and he could not resist lightly running his tongue over the beads of crimson pleasure, having to hold back a thoughtless moan that threatened to escape you. He never pressed too far, neither did he give into the temptation of marking you again and having you entirely. His moments remained slow, savouring the taste of you.

It only took a gentle press of his lips for the two little indents to close up, not only to his dismay. After the last little flick of his tongue gathering up the remnants of his meal, an unexpected apologetic look was written on his face. You expected him to look at you with caution, or danger, but his eyes glimmered with a reverence for the one that had allowed him to bring him back to full life after days of abstinence. 

His lips were barely centimetres apart from you. From the slight tug of them, you realised it wasn't him, but you gravitating towards him, until you could feel his copper laced breath tickle your agape mouth.

“You look like you want a taste too,” he spoke in a low voice. You barely took in the way his eyes glazed over with a deep desire, mimicking yours. It was unfair how your body betrayed you, only able to focus on the monochrome lips stained with scarlet that threatened to drag you deeper into feral abandon.

[writingjourney]

Friday Nights at the Vinothek | Vampire!Secondo x gn!Reader

Summary: When the local vintner who buys his cigarettes at the kiosk you work at offers you a job you can’t believe your luck. But after moving to the vineyard where the attraction between you only grows, you soon realize that he is not quite who you thought – and that working for a vampire comes with unexpected dangers.

Content: 26k words, gn!reader, smoking, alcohol consumption, blood donation/needles, fainting, vampirism (blood drinking, mind control to keep you asleep), werewolves, violence, hurt/comfort, smut (biting, blood kink, fingering, spit kink, praise, cuming in pants, cockwarming, p in hole sex, no protection), 18+, MDNI

I'm happy to finally share this story. Thank you @foxybouquet for your help with the nicknames ♡ This is a continuation to my fic Friday Nights at the Cinema Club with Primo. You don't have to read that one. However I recommend reading them in the correct order if you do! The Ao3 version is split into 3 chapters for easier reading.

Masterlist – Ao3 link – Part 1 | Primo's Story

“You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me and still come with me, and hating me through death and after. There is no such word as indifference in my apathetic nature.”

― Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu, Carmilla

May

It takes all of two minutes of regular walking until he finds himself at his destination. Kiosk the sign reads in chipped away block letters, the color faded from decades of exposure to the sun. 

Secondo steps inside. The neon lights flicker unrhythmically, uncomfortable to his sensitive eyes but the small corner store is the only business in a radius of forty kilometers that’s open after eight pm. Two tall newspaper racks greet him by the door, another long shelf that sells all sorts of cheap booze, a random assortment of groceries and drug store products, a bunch of dead flowers slowly rotting in their sad plastic prisons. His brothers would hate it here. Hell, sometimes even he hates it here but as the lovely face behind the register comes into view these feelings quickly change. He wonders why on earth you would choose to spend the limited years of your life working late night shifts in this dingy, outdated shop. Weekend nights, at that.

“Buona sera,” he says, then points to the Marlboro reds behind you.

The selection is abysmal here. You hand him the cigarettes, the picture of a rotting lung barely catching his eyes from the packaging. It means nothing to him, would have meant nothing to him even if he wasn’t beyond mortal diseases. Meanwhile your own curious eyes roam his form like they always do. Not very subtle but he does the very same thing with no hint of shame, your hair and skin tone flat and ashen in the horrible lighting, a wide, deformed black polo-shirt with your name tag on it hiding most of your body.

“Grazie,” he says, handing you a twenty. “Keep the change.”

At first, you fought him over the money. By now you accept it without question, the whole interaction usually playing out in exactly the same way as it does tonight. All this morality, all the politeness. You’re wasted here, wasted in this joyless life.

“Do you want to smoke with me? You close in a few minutes, no?” he hears himself asking, not sure where it is coming from. The clock above your head tells him it’s almost ten. 

“I’ve never smoked before,” you say. Such a soft voice. He wonders how it would sound in a scream.

“That is not a no.”

You smile. “No, it’s not.”

What does it say about him, that he wants to corrupt this young, innocent human? Maybe that he has seen too much, the way they tend to throw away the few years of life that they have to work and work some more, energy wasted for corporations, for family drama and horrible vacations just to feel a short sense of adventure every once in a while. Then they die full of resentment and regret and once they’re gone their offspring fight over the little money and the few possessions that they leave.

Not that his own family is much better.

You meet him outside of the kiosk a few minutes later. Wordlessly he hands you a cigarette, followed by his luxurious gold Dupont lighter, worth about a thousand euros, a little splurge he treated himself to in Paris a few years ago. When you open the lid, it gives its signature cling, a well-measured flame flickering to life as you spark the flint.

“This is a fancy lighter,” you comment, bringing the cigarette to your lips.

Secondo smiles. So you have an eye for these things, even if you lack the funds. Even more curious now he watches you light the Marlboro, promptly coughing in pained stutters. He doesn’t fight the amused smile that tugs at his lips as he carefully extracts the expensive lighter from your hands, slipping it back into the pocket of his tight black slacks. 

“What do you say?” he asks.

“It’s not bad,” you reply. “But I don’t think I’ll stick with it.”

He’s not surprised, though he is impressed you so easily gave in. “There are many more ways to sin, more ways to enjoy life, that might be more to your liking, little dove.”

“Like what?”

“Hmmm.” He examines you, lingering on the playful smirk on your face. “Wine of course, riding a motorcycle, expensive clothes, parties, good food… sex.”

An unmistakable heat reaches your face. He can hear the blood pumping faster through your veins, smell the first few hints of arousal oozing from your pores. It satisfies him, your reaction.

“So what, are you the devil trying to corrupt me?” you ask, covering the tremor in your voice with a chuckle.

He takes a drag from his own cigarette, exhaling a long veil of smoke. “Something like that.”

You get more restless beside him, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “If ugh… if you’re asking me for other favors, I’m really not–”

“No,” he interrupts. “I am not. I am not in the habit of finding my lovers in old shops or dark alleyways of small towns.”

“Where do you find them then?”

You pose the question quite genuinely, a flirty undertone to your words that he’s not sure you’re even aware of. He eyes you curiously. “I thought you weren’t interested?”

He can sense more heat rising to your face, radiating off into the cool night air. “I never said that.”

Ah. He averts his gaze, resisting the temptation. Secondo does not take human lovers. Not anymore. After centuries of losing people, of swimming around aimlessly with no one to anchor him, a ship lost in the endless expanse of sea that is an eternal life, he has set himself firm boundaries. Humans are a source of food, at best a companion for a few minutes of conversation, but they are never permanent. Allowing them into your bed leads to lies and wrong expectations. Falling for them, loving them even – it is hopeless, it’s a non-exhaustive well of pain and grief and misery. And attempting to make them last, turning them? He won’t make the same mistake that his younger brother made, inevitably breaking promises and dooming an innocent human to the same restless fate until they despise him for it.

He watches you stub out the cigarette on the metal lid of the nearby trashcan before throwing it away, turning back to him with a glimmer of excited anticipation in your eyes. He’s not sure what you see in him – a sophisticated older man looking for a young lover? A lonely customer in search of a few minutes of company? The local vintner out for a smoke after a long day? 

“Maybe next time we will try something else,” he says.

You don’t reply as he stubs out his own cigarette, heading back home without looking back.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Vampire Gazette 02/05

Werewolf Presumed Dead After Fight In Central European Woods

A fight between a vampire and a werewolf during last Friday’s full moon supposedly ended in the death of the lycanthrope. Multiple anonymous sources claim that the victim was a middle-aged outcast who resided close to the scene of the conflict in a small Central European town. A source close to the family suggests that the vampire, who remained unharmed, is Primo Emeritus. Known as a former Papa and eldest son of the current head of the Church of Emeritus, the vampire moved to the town no more than twelve moons ago. The source states that it was an act of self-defense and that the Emeritus ghouls took care of the body. No remains could be found within the castle walls of his now abandoned home, according to a representative of the werewolf community. A team of impartial investigators has been hired by the authorities to look into the case. Upon editorial request, Primo Emeritus was not willing to comment on the accusations at this time.

Instances of fights between vampires and werewolves have become rare over the past two centuries. This is the first instance of a killing between the two groups in almost a decade. Further consequences remain to be observed. Experts expect the respective authorities to be able to smooth the waters fairly quickly considering the high social standing of the Emeritus clan.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Secondo nearly spits out his evening coffee, Terzo next to him breaks out in manic laughter. For a few minutes after reading the paper they both sit around the large dining table in pure, unadulterated wonder.

“He killed a fucking werewolf?” Terzo finally speaks into the silence.

“It would appear so.”

More laughter. Terzo is holding his belly underneath his pristine white blouse, his chest heaving with the intensity of his fit. Secondo knows his brother is not breaking out in amusement but sheer disbelief and yet, it is a rare, almost heart-warming experience to hear him actually laughing for once. If only the circumstances weren’t as dire.

“I’m not surprised no one informed us,” Secondo muses. “Father must know.”

“He must, yes, but he doesn’t give a shit.” Another bout of laughter as Terzo’s elbows crash down on the majestic wooden table, his head landing on his hands in a gesture of wild incredulity. “He killed a werewolf. Primo.”

“Will you stop laughing? This could have serious consequences, outcast or not. We have to keep an eye on this.”

“Do you think they’ll be after us?”

A shrug. “That would be foolish but it is a possibility.”

Terzo rests his head on his upper arm now, elegantly draped over the table with his raven hair falling into his face as he turns to his brother. “Why do you think he killed him?”

“Perhaps it was self defense. Some werewolves still hold a deep hatred for vampires. Though it is very stupid to attack Primo. He must have known who he is.”

Terzo pauses, drumming his fingers against his head. He was never able to keep still for long, a little fidget with a tendency for clumsiness, drawing attention to himself if he wanted to or not. “I wish we knew what he is up to. I hate this separation. Can’t you invite him over for that big fancy new wine tasting?”

“He clearly stated that he wanted to be alone for a while to build a quiet new life.”

“Yes but by now a while is four decades.” 

Secondo breathes out a sigh. “I can invite him, I am not sure he will come.”

“Let him know I’m here.”

“I don’t know if that is an incentive or a sure way to get him to never call again.” 

His voice is deadpan, yet Terzo breaks out in more laughter. “You can be so funny, fratello. If only you wouldn’t hide it behind that scary scowl of yours.”

“Aren’t you supposed to help the ghouls clear out the west wing today? We need to renovate the rooms.”

“I don’t know why you assume I am the new bellhop in your hotel business.”

Secondo waits until Terzo meets his eyes, narrowing them for extra emphasis. “Don’t think I do not know why you suddenly felt the need to visit me over the summer. Surely it was not because you missed me so.”

“I don’t know what you mean, fratello.”

“What makes you think they will be here?”

Terzo holds his gaze, similar white and green eyes meeting, only breaking away when the door to the dining room flies open and a black-hooded ghoul steps inside. “They will be, I know it.”

June 

Time feels especially gooey on weekend nights. Customers are a rare sight, not even Mr Emeritus, the attractive older and suspiciously well-dressed man who occasionally buys cigarettes from you, shows up tonight. The tinny music from the old radio behind the counter is somehow worse, every shift a ten hour train ride without stops. Usually, you sit on your little stool reading your book or scrolling on your phone. Today, it’s so boring that you open the daily newspaper to scan the job listings, just in case something pops up.

As expected, it is hopeless. Another dead town center of a remote village with no qualified job offers, your salary a joke but your boss never fails to stress that you at least get the employee discount and free Wrigley’s Spearmint bubble gum. Even with your meager savings you can’t afford the move to a bigger city right now, the prospect of being alone in an even larger just as hollow space with too many strange faces around you not at all enticing. At least here people know you, even if all of your friends have long since moved away in search of jobs and a place to settle.

You turn the page, a rustling sound that feels too loud in the quiet vacuum of the kiosk.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Nordsteiner Abendblatt

– Ad –

Wine is not the only juice of life that makes it worth living. Donate your blood to help the local hospitals this weekend at the Emeritus Vineyard.

Date: June 25th, 4-10pm

Reward: 50€

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Fifty euros? You pause. Have they always offered money for this? It’s not a pay rise, it won’t get you very far either, but for a bit of blood it’s certainly tempting. There haven’t been any blood donation campaigns here in quite some time, not since they closed the local medical center after pretty much all of the doctors retired, their offices long since abandoned. 

You mull it over until you close the shop half an hour later after another sluggish Friday night without customers. You walk past the Vinothek, peeking inside like you always do on your way home. For a shop slash bar that sells wine in an almost abandoned old town it is incredibly fancy, antique looking wooden interiors, deep green velvet wallpapers with a subtle pattern of tendrils of vine that seem to be crawling up to the ceiling, dipped into the soft shadows of dimmed wall lamps. Everything is centered around a bar that is too well-stocked and professional for a town like this, expensive liquors, a wine fridge that must have cost more than your tiny old car. Two men are nursing their drinks – only one of them is peering over the rim of an actual wine glass, black hair falling into an aging face, the other one tipping the remainder of a beer into his mouth.

The only explanation you have is that this is Mr Emeritus’s little playground while the actual money comes from the export of the wine they produce in the vineyard at the edge of town. You’ve been to the old Mansion before, tugged away in the rolling hills framing the area. They offer guided tours with subsequent wine tastings, hikes, really, that are especially beautiful in early fall when the grapevines are filled with deep purple fruit and the leaves of the surrounding trees are slowly turning yellow. Even though you don’t drink all that often and are by no means an expert you have to admit that you’ve never tasted wine quite as smooth, quite as delicate as Mr Emeritus’s.

That day a few years ago you didn’t get to see the owner himself, you’re not sure if you’ve ever actually seen him in broad daylight, but now you do spot him standing in the doorway at the far end of the bar. He looks dashing, wearing tight-fitting black slacks, a matching black button down shirt with expensive-looking leather gloves and the sunglasses you never see him without. He’s Italian, that much you know, polite yet reserved when he’s not coaxing you into smoking. Even a few weeks later you’re not quite sure what got into him that night, talking to you about enjoying life and sinning, about alcohol and sex and then just… leaving. Not even mentioning it again when he picked up new Marlboros the week after.

Lost in thought, you almost miss that his gaze shifts towards the window. Under his glasses it’s hard to tell if he is actually looking at you but you decide to leave anyway before he gets the idea of inviting you inside. Somehow you must have got stuck for a moment, frozen in time, because before you’ve even passed the bar he suddenly pops up right in front of you. Confused, you glance from the entrance back to him, the door only slowly swinging shut. How–

“Buona sera,” he says, lighting a cigarette with the fancy gold lighter he let you use last time. For a man who seems to indulge in luxuries, he seems so very down to earth, minimalist in a way, no word, no detail that feels out of place. 

“Hello,” you reply.

For a moment you stand there like you’re waiting for the bus to pick you up, unsure if you should just leave or if he is trying to start a conversation. Maybe he’s just out for smoke, maybe he didn’t even notice you from inside. The tip of his cigarette burns up brightly when he takes the first drag, a bright orange fleck of light in the darkness surrounding him. His mere aura beside you seems to command the night, wholly different from how you perceive him in the kiosk. This is his private kingdom, this is where he feels at home.

“Did you finish your shift?” he asks then, puffing out smoke.

“Yeah. It was a calm night.”

“I see.” He takes another drag, then he holds the cigarette out for you, secured between his gloved fingers. “Hm?”

You instinctively shake your head and his pencil mustache twitches. He does not pull away, a dare, maybe. “Okay,” you decide. “Sure.”

A rare smile. He takes a step closer which sends you into a nervous spiral, your heart pumping faster and faster. A slight tremor runs through his hand as he places the filter at your lips, the very part that was trapped in his own mouth mere seconds ago. At this thought, your hands start to sweat, warmth spreading out in your lower belly. His eyes are fixated on your mouth as you close your lips around the cigarette, taking a brave inhale that burns in your lungs. This time you don’t cough or stutter. Your face starts to burn all the same.

“Can I offer you a drink?” he asks. “On the house.”

“I don’t usually…” You catch yourself before you finish the sentence, shaking your head to dismiss your own hesitation as you remember his words. “Yes, thank you.”

If he notices how flustered you are, he does not let on as he holds the door open for you to invite you in. The man who finished his beer earlier is slipping past you by the entrance and you notice that whoever had the wine is not inside the bar anymore. At the prospect of being alone in here with Mr Emeritus, your stomach does a somersault.

He disappears behind the bar and you set your bag down on one of the stools before you shift into a comfortable position right next to it. The seats are soft and plush, inviting you to stay for more than one glass. Observing the happenings behind the bar from here is a lot more exciting than from the outside. Mr Emeritus is in his element, that much is certain, whipping out glasses and corkscrews with expert movements.

“You do not drink often,” he states. “I think I have something that you would like.”

You nod your consent and watch him pick out a bottle from the fridge. It looks expensive, a white label with gold-foiled lettering. Papastrello, it says. The rest of the words are too small.

“What are you reading?” he asks as he opens the bottle. His eyes have found your bag, the spine of a worn old paperback peeking out of the open zipper

“Carmilla,” you say. 

“Ah, vampires.” The cork pops, a deep, satisfying sound. A rich, slightly sweet scent escapes the now open bottle. “Do you enjoy the old tales?”

“I prefer them over the newer adaptations, yes.”

“So do I,” he says, expertly filling a glass with the red liquid. “I am surprised a young person such as yourself is so fond of the classics.”

You chuckle. “I think many people are. Or they would not be classics.”

He hums, setting the glass down in front of you. “Not blood but a red that is just as beautiful and rich,” he remarks. “One of my fratellino’s favorites.”

“I don’t uhm…” You carefully take the delicate stem of the thick-bellied glass. “I don’t really know how to–”

“Smell it for a moment, grappolino,” he says. “Do not worry about drinking.”

You bring the glass to your nose. The scent is so strong to your unused senses that you barely have to sniff. Even so, you’re not sure what you’re smelling. It reminds you of different fruits, cherry maybe, almost sweet but with a hint of acid.

“There are different categories of aromas,” he says. “Primary, secondary, tertiary. Many factors influence the smell, the type of grape, the fermentation process, the aging in the barrel.”

He explains it calmly, knowledgeable, not like he wants to brag or taunt you for your lack of expertise. You have to admire how soft-spoken he is for someone with such harsh features, such a domineering aura. Seldom have you met a man of his standing who was so pleasant to talk to, who drew you in like this.

“Now try,” he instructs. “A small sip, hold it in your mouth for a moment, breathe in and see how it makes you feel.”

You do as he says, taking some of the red liquid in your mouth and swirling it around your tongue, breathing in as you let it sit. Somehow the aroma is still there, different from the taste, more intense, but together they fill your senses in a most pleasant way. The wine feels smooth in your mouth just like you remember, even as you swallow, not at all like the cheap supermarket wine you know from when you were younger and drinking with friends.

“No blood, you were right,” you say with a smile. “But it is good. I like it a lot.”

He nods, content with your reply, and fills your glass up a little more. Somehow you feel good about satisfying him, about following his instructions and earning his approval. You wouldn’t mind following him in other areas of your life.

“Speaking of blood,” you say to distract yourself from these thoughts. “I saw your ad in the paper earlier. The one for the blood donation.”

“Are you looking to donate?” he asks, perking up. With his interest so focused on you, you suddenly feel almost shy about it.

“I am thinking about it,” you say. “I used to go years ago.”

“We are happy about everyone who donates. It is for a good cause, we are going to do it every few months now.”

“I didn’t know that you get money for it or I would have looked into it sooner.”

“The kiosk does not pay well?” he concludes.

You huff out a pained laugh. “No. It’s a struggle. But there aren’t many jobs available around here.”

He regards you curiously, at least from what you can gather without seeing his actual eyes. You wish you could. His mustache is a dark brown color, even without hair on his head you assume his eyes must be dark just like that. Or perhaps green, maybe even hazel. Without seeing them your own gaze quickly falls, dancing along his sharp cheekbones and down his prominent nose, the lines on his face leading you to his mouth, pencil mustache, full lips over a strong chin. You’ve been eyeing him for months now, every time he visits the kiosk, but somehow the change in lighting, the change in atmosphere, gives him a magnetic, almost preternatural aura.

A smile tugs at his lips then and you panic for a moment that he might have read your thoughts, that you must have been staring. You quickly avert your gaze, downing way too much of the wine to keep up a graceful appearance.

“Can I offer you some food? Some cheese, perhaps?” he asks.

“Actually, I should um… I should head home,” you say, already feeling a little lightheaded. “It’s late and I have a shift tomorrow.”

“Take the bottle,” he says.

“What? No– That’s–”

“Grappolino, I want you to have it. Don’t insult me by refusing a gift.”

You’re not sure what the name means, something with grapes, probably, but you’re too flustered now to pay much attention. When he hands you the bottle you blindly take it, uttering a few words of thanks. He remains steady, unbothered, which you assume is a good thing. He’s not truly offended. You wonder if anything could shake him enough to break his measured temper.

“I will see you at the donation?” he asks when you slip from your stool.

“Yes. I will see you there,” you promise. “I can’t wait to give you my blood.”

He chuckles, a foreign sound coming from the depths of his throat. Without looking back up, you grab your bag and almost rush out of the bar. The cool night air slaps you in the face like a whip, clearing your head and senses from the effects of the wine and its producer in mere seconds. You take a few deep breaths, pressing the cold bottle against your burning chest. If he is flirting with you then it is certainly working, if not then his mere presence affects you in ways you feel almost ashamed of. Either way, you can’t deny that the money has suddenly become a secondary motivation to visit the vineyard next week. No, there is something way more thrilling waiting for you.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Specks of dust dance in the sunlight like a thousand tiny feathers, sinking to the ground almost weightlessly. The two empty sitting rooms on the ground floor should be enough to meet the demand that Secondo expects for today. Everyone who donates their blood gets a voucher for the Vinothek and fifty euros cash on hand. The incentives promise a high yield, enough to fill every pre-order as well as the glasses of his special guests once the blood “wine” is ready to be served.

To his chagrin, all the ghouls are busy renovating the guest rooms, and so Terzo is the one helping him prepare the localities. The partnering hospital has sent a truck with enough donation chairs to line the walls opposite of the south-facing windows of the two rooms, granting a nice view over the vineyard. Come sundown, the ghouls will handle the donations. With their monk-like appearance Secondo hopes the people will be trusting. All the bureaucratic hassle, all the licenses and administrative obstacles better be worth it.

“So, how many times do we have to do this?” Terzo asks, rolling another chair into the room.

“This will be the first harvest, another one in September,” Secondo says. “We will keep sixty percent of donations, the rest goes to the local hospitals. It should give us enough to last over the winter if the demand is stable. Then we continue in spring.”

“Mhm and you’re looking forward to tasting the blood of someone special?”

Secondo’s gaze snaps up in a withering look. “Are you eavesdropping on me?”

“It was hard to avoid, fratello. After I finished my wine I had to use the bathroom and it is so close to the bar, no?” He shrugs, smiling to himself. “Now, what happened to Mr. I-don’t-fuck-humans?”

“Who said anything about sexual intercourse?”

“Sexual intercourse?” Terzo repeats. “That’s not a very romantic word. Not very sexy either.”

“I am not looking to fuck, I am looking for a food source.”

“So you want to sample their blood today?”

“Yes.”

“What makes you think it’s good? Why are they special?”

Secondo has no answer to this. Instead he pushes his sunglasses up his nose, adjusts his gloves, biding time. When he finally meets Terzo’s curious gaze again, he shrugs. “I have a feeling.”

“Where exactly is this feeling located? Just below your belt?”

He heaves an annoyed sigh. He won’t grace with him a reply to this, maybe even because he knows that there is a certain truth to his brother’s words that he would rather ignore. There is just something about your smell, about your presence, your positive aura, the warmth in your eyes, that wakes a certain hunger in him. Sexual or not, Secondo knows that he needs to taste your blood.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

The mansion is just as impressive as you remember from your last visit years ago, throning over steep hills with neat rows of lush grapevines. The sight takes your breath away as you carry your already tired body towards the open entrance gates of the estate. A grand, majestic building sits partly hidden behind two tall beech trees with their voluminous crowns, U-shaped, well-kept and exuding the impressive historic atmosphere of centuries past. Ivy and vine tendrils crawl up the high walls on either side, hiding some of the rich ornamentations of the façade that are partly embellished in gold.

You leave the winding trail through the landscape, your muscles burning from the steady uphill climb, and enter a spacious, stone-flagged courtyard. An almost Mediterranean ambience welcomes you – old wine barrels have been stacked in one corner, beautifully planted with lush flowers and shrubs like a small magical garden. A small outdoor sitting area dominates another corner, shielded from the sun by a pergola that’s overgrown with more vine tendrils. Terracotta planters scattered around the open space house even more greenery and the whole area smells richly of herbs and pollen.

You soon spot a sign with a red arrow, the words blood donation written underneath, leading into one of the side entrances. An old chair secures a wooden door that opens into a cool but gloomy hallway, flagged with old stone tiles that remind you more of a castle than a stately home. You’re met with voices chattering in the rooms on either side – it seems busy. Glancing into one, you spot a small reception area and decide that this is where you must be registering for your donation. One wall of the room is lined in medical chairs, almost all of them occupied by donors with black-robed men that remind you of monks tending to them.

You are greeted by one of them, only not with words but a gentle nod as he guides you through another door. Inside is a small office where a pale but kind-looking doctor receives you. After a short talk he clears you for donation and you’re assigned one of the chairs near the entrance. One of the black-hooded men approaches. He really must be a monk, you decide, doing charitable work. Perhaps Mr Emeritus has connections to the church – it would make sense if he is veering into the philanthropic lane now. So many religious orders have their own humanitarian organizations who offer volunteers in the field of medical care, maybe he even has his own. You don’t question the process as everyone else in the room seems comfortable.

The monk does not speak to you when he prepares your arm but he is certainly skilled as he slides the sharp needle through your skin and into your vein. You hardly feel any pressure and as the tube fills with your blood, you start to relax in your seat. He hands you a black rubber stress ball, mimicking how you’re supposed to squeeze it to your palm to increase the blood flow. For the next ten minutes you stay exactly like that, your arm outstretched and your fingers wrapped around the squishy toy. Time passes fast, an older lady begins to chat with you before she is done and leaves you to yourself. Once your bag is filled, the monk removes the needle and expertly wraps up your arm. You don’t see where he carries the bag as he leaves through another door.

With your donation complete, you first sit and then stand up, cautiously stretching out your limbs as to not overwhelm your circulation, following the lady’s advice to take it easy. Another sign in the hallways indicates that there is a sort of break room with snacks and drinks, so you decide to head there and wait until your body has recovered. The sudden change of light and temperature as you leave the sunny and warm sitting room does you no favor. Suddenly your head begins to swim, an icy cold wrapping around your body like a blanket of snow. Your fingertips tingle, cold sweat spreading over your back and then you’re sinking, falling–

“Careful,” a steady voice says and instead of the cool stone floor you hit a soft, strong body. Your vision is blurry but you clearly see the outline of black sunglasses over a strong nose and then those soft, full lips. The man cradles you against him, sitting you down with his knee supporting your back. “I need you to lie down, grappolino. Do I have permission to carry you?”

You nod, not quite sure what is going on as your brain struggles to cling to the world around you. 

“It’s you,” you whisper when he gathers you in his arms like you weigh nothing at all. 

He carries you down the hallway, the sudden movement only making you dizzier until you feel like you have to throw up. “It is me,” he says at length. “Do not worry, little dove, I will take care of you. I will take care of you forever.”

You close your eyes at the sound of his soothing words, spoken in such a deep but somehow soft voice that caresses your ears like the gentle touch of a lover. Comforted, you rest your head on his shoulders, breathing out a tired sigh, and drift off.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

“This is the right bag?” he asks, even though he can smell it through the plastic and antiseptic layers surrounding it. The same scent he detected from your arm when he carried you upstairs, a scent that already has his nerves on edge with an appetite that he can hardly contain.

The ghoul nods and Secondo shudders as he cradles your blood in his hands. What a beautiful red, richer than any wine he ever made. He takes off his sunglasses to admire how it moves when he flexes his gloved fingers, the texture so smooth, almost silken. Saliva gathers in his mouth and for a moment he forgets the presence of the ghoul.

Impatient now, he looks up to dismiss him. “Grazie.”

He’s already in the kitchen when the door closes, ripping open cabinets in search of a glass. But his body is on fire, burning, longing, craving. He feels like a starving man, like an addict in search of a fix, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s abandoned his search. With both hands he takes the bag and sinks his fangs into the plastic, penetrating the material until he can finally taste you. A deep, rumbling moan breaks from his chest as the first drop of blood meets his tongue. It’s not enough. He bites harder until more of the liquid spills out. Secondo drinks like he has never drunk before. Any attempt at savoring it is in vain. He can’t remember the last time he lost control like this, gulping it down with a greed that would make Lucifer proud, an unquenchable thirst. Your blood is infernal, drinking it an unholy sacrament, the closest he has felt to his faith in decades since leaving the Church. More and more he sucks into his mouth until it dribbles down his chin and onto his sleek white shirt, the one he ironed before knowing that he would meet you today. He rips it from his chest as soon as the bag is empty and the taste starts to fade. Impatiently he sucks at the stains until the aroma finally escapes even his hyper sensitive taste buds.

He’s a wreck. The smell lingers in his nose long after he’s licked the last remnants from his gloves. He sinks to the floor, shamefully gathering the last few drops of blood he spilled and bringing them to his searing, ruined tongue. A pathetic, shameful whimper escapes him and he has to sit in quiet solitude for several minutes until he manages to gather his wits. This is embarrassing, he decides. He has to get cleaned up and dressed.

Secondo enters his bedroom where he brought you to rest a mere ten minutes ago. The sight of your innocent form sleeping in his bed nearly sends him into another frenzy, your neck exposed over the collar of your shirt and practically begging for his mouth. He stands and looks at your weak body, watching your eyes twitching behind their lids, even if they stay closed. For now he is sated enough to stay in control, pushing any animalistic thoughts to the side. You’re beautiful, such a lovely young human, sleeping in the bed of a bloodthirsty monster. The thought makes him chuckle. Perhaps human prejudice against vampires is not that unfounded, even if he usually thinks of himself as a rather sophisticated specimen.

He allows himself another moment of silent reprieve, his eyes roaming your peaceful form without his glasses now. Eventually he brings himself to take a quick shower in the en-suite, freshening up, more cologne, less blood to spook you. He decides on a simple dark green polo shirt, showing off his arms. As he splashes his face with water, he can’t help but wonder what is happening to him. 

Your taste is unlike any he has ever experienced before. If he sold it in bottles, even watered down, everyone would flock to his business. But just the thought of sharing you with any other vampire makes him recoil in disgust, the hair on his arms standing up in defiance. It is an entirely new sensation, entirely unwelcome, and yet he can’t shake it. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do about these intrusive feelings, about his lack of control, the possessiveness that overcomes him in your presence. He’s not even sure if he can trust himself to be near you.

But even so he knows that he cannot let you leave. Not anymore.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

You dream of him. 

The outlines are blurry, a room that feels dark, the lights blended out and only coming in through cracks that won’t allow your eyes to focus. Then his handsome face comes into view. Your vision clears for just a moment. Blood covers his face. Not his face. His mouth. His eyes are weird, one is a dark red and one is incredibly pale, the strong brows above drawn tightly together. His gaze is intense, a hunger, a craving reflected in his glowing irises. You’re scared for just a moment but then his expression changes, a sudden tenderness glossing over the harshness of his features and the red eye turns to an emerald green. He looks quite beautiful like this, even with the blood covering his mouth. Especially with the blood covering his mouth.

When you break free from the tight grasp of your hazy dream and open your eyes, his face is right there. You startle, your slow heartbeat suddenly jumping into a sprint, but there is no blood, no discolored eyes, just his sunglasses as he pushes them up his nose.

“Don’t be scared, grappolino,” he says from the edge of the bed. “It is just me.”

You nod, blinking yourself awake. Your head hurts, a low thrum that penetrates your skull like a fly repeatedly hitting a window.

“Do you remember what happened?”

You sit up slightly, propping the pillow up behind you and the way it hurts, the pressure and numbness in the crook of your arm, brings back your memories. “I donated blood.”

“You did. And you fainted,” he explains. “This is my own private bedroom.” 

“Do… do all the patients get this treatment?”

A chuckle. “No.”

Heat rises to your chest and you avert your eyes. They are immediately drawn to his bare arms, to the dark hair covering them before his gloved hands appear in your peripheral vision. The polo shirt suits him, a dark green color, the cut accentuating the solid shape of his shoulders. A tuft of dark chest hair peeks out of his open collar and you can see his nipples through the fabric. It is cold in here, you realize. Or perhaps your goosebumps have a different origin.

“I brought you something to drink,” he says, lifting a dark glass bottle he must have set down beside the bed. The distraction is imminent. You eye it curiously, a frown settling on your face. 

He can’t possibly be offering you wine right now? 

“Grape juice,” he states.

“Oh.”

You feel silly now, maybe your brain is still not fully awake. He opens the screw and fills a glass that was previously set down on the bedside table. When he hands it to you, the tight bandage on your arm hinders you yet again from moving freely and you have to hold out your other hand instead. Mr Emeritus is patient, waiting until you’ve taken the first few sips before he stands from the bed.

“I will bring you some food, little dove. We need to increase your blood sugar, give you some energy. In the meantime you will be good for me and drink your juice, yes?”

His words make you choke on your spit and you cough uncomfortably into the burn. “I ugh… I will. Thank you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, not quite a smile but it’s enough to have you flustered. You take small sips of the juice that, just like his wine, feels smooth on your tongue and has a rich, intense flavor. It warms your belly, brings life back into your limbs and other parts of your body. You’d be good for him in so many different ways if he let you.

That thought makes you abruptly realize that you’re in his actual bed. You use the chance to properly look at the spacious room surrounding you. It is furnished rather simply, heavy dark curtains cover most of the windows but even with most of the light locked out you can’t see anything beyond the huge canopy you’re resting on. You’re draped between dark green cotton sheets that must have an incredibly high thread count with how soft they feel underneath your fingertips. The dark wooden bed frame is kept upright by four artfully carved posts, solid and dominating the room, the drapes tied to them with rope. You spot two doorways – one is closed, the other slightly ajar. The wall next to the open door is home to a huge painting, the edge of the gold frame shimmering in an odd ray of light that breaks through a gap in the curtains. You don’t know the artwork, it seems to be a dark one, mostly covered in shadows now, but you think it must be a religious subject because you can make out monk-like figures, a goat, a building that resembles an old abbey.

“You walked here?” 

Mr Emeritus reenters the room, carrying a tray as he pushes the door open with his black leather brogues. 

“Ugh, yes. Is that bad?”

“You cannot walk back,” he decides. “No one is available right now to drive you and I cannot leave before we are done with donations. I suggest you stay and rest.”

“As in… stay the night?”

“One of our guest rooms should be finished by now. You can stay there.” A pause as he settles back beside you and places his cargo in your lap. On the tray you find a basket with a few slices of bread, ciabatta from the looks of it, a plate with a small piece of butter, two different wedges of cheese, a bunch of grapes and other fruit. It looks delicious. “I hope this is to your liking.”

“It looks wonderful, thank you.“ You look from the tray to him. “You’re not from the area originally, are you?”

“No, I am not from the area. Does that matter to you, grappolino?”

“No, you just… you don’t look like you belong here,” you finally say, popping a grape into your mouth. “You should be in… I don’t know, Rome, Paris. Or Tuscany, maybe. Why did you bring your business here? Just because of the vineyard?”

“The mansion has been in possession of my family for a long time,” he says. “I always had an interest in wine making, so I took over when the previous tenant expressed his wish to retire.”

“So you actually chose to live in the middle of nowhere?”

“I enjoy the quiet and solitude.” He cocks his head to the side. “And besides, so do you.”

“Hm, touché.”

You eat as much as you feel comfortable with. He watches you throughout your little meal and while it unsettles you you’re more than willing to accept his hospitality. You promised to be good for him after all and you don’t intend to break that promise. Once you’re done he relieves you of the tray and sets it down on the floor. He gives no indication that he wants to leave.

“Do you feel better?” he asks instead. “Let me feel your pulse.”

You don’t object when his gloved hand reaches for yours. The leather feels thick, sturdy, which makes his hand look huge when it surrounds yours. But then he seems to make a last minute decision to remove the gloves, revealing pale but strong hands, dark hair trailing from his knuckles down to his arm. His fingers are cooler than you expect even though there is a warm glow pulsating underneath his fingertips. Your heart immediately begins to hammer in your chest, rapidly beating against its cage of bone and skin. This will not be a useful measuring, at least not if he’s trying to anticipate your health.

Perhaps his train of thought is similar, for his eyes search yours the moment he feels the increase. The corner of his mouth pulls up slightly and his thumb gently strokes over your wrist. You’re quite incapable of looking away, even through the sunglasses there seems to be a sort of shine in his gaze. If only you could properly see them, not just their shadowy outlines. Sparks fly just below your skin, sending shivers through your whole body.

“You seem livelier to me,” he concludes. “Perhaps some more sleep will do, hm? I will have your rooms arranged, you can stay here for the time being.”

“I have a question,” you pipe up before he can leave, a hint of embarrassment laced into your words that you can’t quite hide. “Am I still getting the money?”

“The money?”

“The fifty euros.”

You’re acutely aware of his thumb still stroking your wrist, so softly that it tickles. “You will, grappolino. But there is… something I want to talk to you about. I was going to wait but perhaps now is a good time, no? Before you are too tired again.” 

“What is it?” you ask.

“I want to offer you a job.”

Your eyes widen, the words so unexpected. “A job?”

“I need an employee for the Vinothek. Wine tastings take place on Friday nights every few weeks and I need someone to take over the regular business as I take care of them. The rest of the time you can help out in the vineyard. We have a few important events soon where we introduce new varieties, some international guests will come to visit and there is a lot to do until then.”

“Are you sure this is… not just a pity job offering?”

“No,” he states so matter-of-factly that all your questions vanish. “I can use two extra hands and a sharp brain. I will double your current salary and you can move into your own quarters here for no extra cost. I will make sure your rooms are to your liking.”

You let the thought sit for a moment. Double your salary? Living in an actual mansion in the midst of beautiful wine hills? You wonder what the catch is, if he’s just going to fire you once fall is over or if he’s going to give you all the most horrible tasks he can think of. Even so, for that much money you wouldn’t mind cleaning toilets, sweeping the floors or brewing his morning coffee. It’s not that different from what you’re doing right now anyway.

“Of course there will be no eh… bad blood if you say no.”

“That seems exceptionally dumb,” you say, cringing a bit at your words. “What I mean is, that’s a… a tempting offer. It’s one that sounds too good to be true, actually. It’s just… I don’t know much about wine.”

“I can teach you all that you need to know, grappolino, non preoccuparti,” he says, his voice deeper and almost sultry. His thumb presses into your pulse then, drawing a line along the vein in your forearm until he stops just below the crook of your arm. Then he seems to snap out of whatever thought occupied his mind and pulls away. “Think about it. I do not expect a reply right away.”

You nod, missing his fingers on you already. When he finally leaves the room, you sink back into the soft mattress and imagine what a life here would be like. The offer is too good to refuse and your undeniable crush on Mr Emeritus urges you to agree even more, no matter how foolish it would be to pine after your employer. Subconsciously you bring your thumb to the wrist he just held, mimicking his touch. You think you might die if you don’t feel his hands on your body again. Perhaps he was right, perhaps you would like to explore all the different ways of sinning that he mentioned to you, and perhaps you would very much like him to take part as well.

July

Even though you’re still not quite sure what to make of the masked and hooded monks living in his home who never seem to speak, you accompany them to pack up your belongings. They follow all of your requests and directions without question, treat your things with utmost care and make sure nothing gets lost. What is even more astounding is how they carry even the heaviest of boxes filled with books without any visible strain. Most of the furniture you won’t need anymore is quickly sold or gifted to people on eBay and in the span of one afternoon, all you need is neatly packed into boxes that are now stacked in your new quarters.

You’re not quite sure how he did it but Mr Emeritus handled your job transition quite seamlessly. Your old boss agreed immediately, at least that’s what he told you, and a day later you signed all the necessary paperwork. It gives you a whole day off to familiarize yourself with your new living situation. All morning you unpack boxes, sort books into shelves, clothes into drawers. Your quarters are bigger than anticipated. A decently sized sitting room with beautiful antique-looking green sofas leads into a wide, canopied bedroom that has an en-suite bathroom as well as a walk-in closet.

You are free to use the impressive kitchen downstairs and really, you still haven’t found the catch in the whole arrangement. In search of a cup of afternoon tea, you make your way exactly there, hoping that the pantry is stocked since you’re pretty sure Mr Emeritus has his own private kitchen somewhere else in the mansion. This morning, when you picked up a cup of coffee, he was nowhere to be seen and no dishes or any other evidence betrayed that he was down here. 

When you enter the room now, you spot someone else – a raven-haired head stuck in the fridge. The man looks like he just woke up, wearing grey sweatpants and a purple dressing gown. When he turns around, you notice that his upper body is naked and for a moment you’re not sure where to look. The sweatpants barely conceal the outline of his cock and his bare chest and the soft pouch of his belly are covered in thick black hair. A few small tattoos litter his pale skin, an upside down cross underneath his ribs, two more symbols you don’t recognize just above the dip of his hips. His face seems familiar, broad and handsome, beautifully aged with lines that bring out his strong features, bushy dark eyebrows over eyes that… You halt for a moment. One of his irises is green and the other is white, just like the ones you saw in your dream. Heterochromia is nothing new to you, but for an eye to be this pale?

“Oh, buon pomeriggo,” he says with an openly flirty smile. “We have not met yet, I believe?”

“Uhm... no. I don’t think so.”

“You can call me Terzo.”

You give him your name as well, introducing yourself as a new employee. Before the man can say anything else, steps resound behind you and Mr Emeritus appears in the doorway, eyeing him with barely concealed disdain. “Am I interrupting, fratello?”

“Oh, we just met,” you explain. “I wasn’t aware there was anyone else living here.”

“This is just my brother,” he states. “Don’t mind him, he is ugh… hanging around.”

Terzo scoffs dismissively. “I am actually also working here–”

“I thought you were not my new bellhop, fratellino?”

“I help with the guest room renovations. Really, I am the eh… interior designer, you could say.” He grabs your hand, bringing it to his lips with a smirk. “Anyway, it is a pleasure to meet you, tesoro. How lovely to have a youthful presence in this old house.”

“Likewise. I actually wasn’t aware this was a hotel also.”

“It is not,” Mr Emeritus explains, taking a few steps into the room now. He looks incredibly handsome today, wearing his usual black slacks as well as a black button down shirt, sleeves rolled up and the collar open just enough to reveal some of his chest. “We are going to host some of the guests who submit to long travels in order to attend the wine tastings. Now, I was looking for you. I think you need a tour of this place, grappolino, no?”

Terzo dismisses you with a gentle smile, waving after his brother when you both leave the kitchen. Mr Emeritus briskly walks ahead, leading you down a long hallway.

“Were you going to eat?” he asks. “I interrupted.”

“No, I wanted a cup of tea. But I can just have that later.”

He hums, then leads you up a staircase to show you where the guest rooms are going to be located. You see some of the monks again, carrying furniture, painting walls, cleaning rugs. They don’t acknowledge your presence, only step aside when you pass.

“Mr Emeritus–” you start.

“You can call me Secondo,” he interrupts. “Since you are already calling my brother by his first name.”

You’re not sure if you’re imagining the hint of jealousy tainting his voice. He certainly did not look too pleased when he entered the scene earlier. “Secondo and Terzo,” you say. “Like the numbers?”

“My father was not very creative when he procreated like a dog in heat. He argues that he followed an old Italian tradition which is just convenient, no?”

You make a mental note that his father is not a good subject to broach just as he leads you back into the main staircase. “Can I ask you something else?”

“I understand you must have many questions. Feel free to pose them whenever you wish.”

“Well, the biggest one I have is… uhm…” You pause but he does not seem bothered at all. “Who are the hooded men? They look like monks but also not like any real monks I’ve ever seen before.”

“They are something similar.”

“Like a cult? Is that why they don’t talk?”

“No, grappolino, not a cult. We call them the Nameless Ghouls.” His voice is even and patient considering the amount of questions you’re shooting at him. As you walk down the stairs you notice that he is not even remotely out of breath while you’re already struggling to keep up. “They are bound to certain rules of their community such as to not speak to outsiders. They work for me because they were summoned to do so for which I am very grateful. I have arranged one of the former guest houses on the property where they live amongst themselves.”

You furrow your brow, a little confused as to how much of a red flag that should be for you. Ghouls, the religious painting, the upside down cross on his brother’s chest… it does seem suspiciously like a cult. His pace is so fast that you almost stumble down the stairs now. “Do I… do I also have to join them?”

“Oh, no, non preoccuparti. They have nothing to do with you.”

“So they just… help out here?”

“Sì. They make all of this possible.”

“I mean, if they want to live like that, I guess that’s okay.”

He stops in the middle of the staircase. You almost stumble into his strong back, catching yourself on the railing just in time. “I assure you it is all consensual, grappolino. They are free to leave and do as they please. Just like you. Nothing here happens without great enthusiasm.”

You look at him, toying with the hem of your shit nervously now that his gaze is back on your body. Enthusiasm does not sound like he is talking about work but at least it also doesn’t sound like a cult. “This word, is it a good thing?”

He chuckles. “It is a… how do you say? Pet name?” Suddenly he takes the step that separates you, inching closer until his face is right in front of yours. “Do you want me to stop?”

Your eyes widen. “Oh, no. No, I like it. I was just wondering… is it a common name?”

“No, it is not common.”

You stare through his glasses, trying to make out the expression in his eyes. Is he flirting with you? Is he making fun of you? The tension is unbearable but you cannot be sure if he feels it as well with half of his face hidden from your sight. You have half a mind to take the glasses from his face.

“If you follow these stairs all the way down,” he finally says, stopping you from any foolishness, “you will reach the wine cellar. It is the door at the bottom, right next to the main entrance.”

“That’s… that’s where all the treasures are kept?”

His mouth curls into a rare smile. “Not all the treasures.”

“Can I ask another question?”

“Certo.”

“Do you have the same eyes as your brother?”

He cocks his head to the side, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “You will have to find out, grappolino.”

You swallow, about to take a foolish step closer to him when he suddenly backs away. His face is out of reach before you can even attempt to rid him of the sunglasses and he’s halfway down the next flight of stairs when you finally catch yourself.

“Now let me get you some tea and some food also,” he calls, not even making sure whether you’re following. “You have to eat a lot of iron and vitamins to increase blood production. We don’t want you to get anemic, hm?”

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Vampire Gazette 02/07

A group of rogue werewolves attacked two unsuspecting vampires in the Styrian mountains last Monday. The perpetrators fled the scene after they did not manage to kill their victims and attracted the attention of a nearby group of vampires. Both victims fully recovered in the span of two days while further circumstances of the incident still escape the authorities. Unnamed sources claim that one of the vampires is an old acquaintance of Primo Emeritus. Since last Wednesday, speculations on Social Media suggest that the incident could be connected to the death of a lycanthrope in May in which the former Papa was supposedly involved. Neither the authorities nor the Emeritus family were willing to give statements to confirm or deny these rumors.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Secondo is not proud of slipping into your room that first night. He’s not proud when he sees you sleeping so peacefully, trusting that you are safe in his care. You look lovely, young, the picture of innocence and trust. A human so lively, so curious and quick-witted. There is an intelligence in you that is way beyond your years and maybe it is the very reason why you so foolishly trust him – you’re not superstitious.

Before he drinks from you, he inspects your quarters. Sheer curiosity, he tells himself, he always liked to learn. Your bookshelves are filled with all sorts of genres – classics, romantic novels, thrillers, horror, historical fiction, non-fiction. What is most telling however are the books on your bedside table. He finds the same copy of Carmilla you carried in your bag, a book about wine making you must have recently ordered and another book that looks suspiciously like a cheap erotic novel. Maybe not so innocent, he thinks, wondering how he would find you if he came in here a few hours earlier, just before your bedtime.

Secondo is not proud when he slips into your room again a few days later. He’s not proud when he does it again and again and again until one day he notices the first signs of anemia in you and gives you a week of reprieve that has him shaking like an addict. At least he found the strength to be careful now, exerting the control he lacked when he tried that first bag of blood, barely puncturing your neck with one of his fangs and drinking as slowly as your blood flow dictates. He does not want to hurt even a hair on your head, does not want you to wake up the next morning with a wound like an animal attacked you and get suspicious. No, he needs you to stay here and stay well, a source of food, a source of joy.

Still, the moment he drapes himself over your sleeping body and your blood hits his tongue it takes all of his strength to stay calm, to suppress the moans spilling from his lips, to stop himself from growing hard against your sleeping body and humping you like a horny teenager. Just a late night drink, nothing else, a meal to sustain him throughout the night. The restraint he displays is impressive even to him. It goes against all of his predatory instincts that tell him to simply drain you, to consume you until you have nothing left. 

No, Secondo is not proud of any of it. And he slowly starts to realize that it is not stealing your blood that affects him in such a way that he struggles to keep his eldritch powers measured, to ensure that you stay asleep when he feeds. The kiss of a vampire can be impactful even for the vampire himself, at least when other feelings are involved. So no, it is not your blood that breaks his resolve, that makes it so hard to treat you like any other food source.

It’s the feeling of your skin against his lips.

August

Every day in the vineyard feels like a dream. 

You never realized how much your job at the kiosk and living in your tiny flat with nothing but the bare essentials had drained you of the joy of living, how it had put you into a sluggish rhythm of loneliness and unfulfilling work – not until you started to see a different life for yourself, that is. Perhaps Secondo was right when he told you to try out different ways to enjoy yourself all these months ago, perhaps he saw how stuck you were before you got here. Your growing crush on him certainly helps to envision a happier future for yourself in this place.

Your favorite thing are the quiet afternoons with him. Usually, you never see Secondo or his brother before two o’clock. It seems like they are night owls – it is not a rare occurrence that you spot light underneath his office door well into the late hours when you head to the kitchen to grab a cup of tea. In the mornings, you get most of your work done, usually helping out with wine orders that the Nameless Ghouls pack and a post truck picks up around noon. In the evenings, you help out at the Vinothek, taking care of the shop or waiting on people while Secondo tends the bar. But the afternoons? The afternoons are priceless.

Secondo and you usually get comfortable underneath the pergola in the mansion’s courtyard. While he prefers to sit in the shade you have opted for a sunny spot. First you share a break with some afternoon coffee for which his brother usually joins you, then, once Terzo leaves, he starts to teach you everything he knows about wine and wine making. As expected, he is a most patient teacher who takes great delight from your genuine interest in the subject. Today, he is talking to you about different grape varieties and their differences in taste.

“Sangiovese is a red variety,” he explains. “Very common and the base for many wines that I have shown you, grappolino. Chianti, for example.” 

“Like in the Silence of the Lambs.”

“Sì, like that one.”

“Have you ever had it with liver?”

“You see, my dove, Chianti is actually not a good wine to have with liver. Amarone would be much better suited, or some lesser known ones. Dr Lecter would have known that, in the book he did.”

You have to smile at that. Of course he would take note of such things while watching a movie or reading a book. While he continues on his lecture on Sangiovese, you breathe in the rich scents that waft over the courtyard, carried by a gentle summer breeze. For a moment you turn your face into the sun, letting the warm rays caress your features. Mild summer days are your favorites, being outside in a simple shirt without freezing or sweating too much. When you turn back, you notice Secondo watching you. When you smile at him he cocks his head to the side, still observing you without shame. As though he only notices now, he suddenly turns away and reaches into his pocket. When his hand comes back into view it holds a silver flask and he makes a face when he takes his first sip.

“Not good?” you ask, chuckling.

He shrugs, giving a dismissive hum. “I am… used to drinking better things these days.”

“What’s in it?”

“A new drink I have been working on. I try to sample it throughout the day.”

“Can I try?”

“No, grappolino, it is not ready for that yet.”

“You will tell me when it is, though?”

He smiles, a genuine, almost soft smile that you see on him more often now when you’re just among yourselves. “I will, little dove. You are always so eager to learn and try new things.”

The compliments he gives you, if rare, are always meaningful. They manage to fluster you every single time and you subconsciously start to scratch at your neck again. This has been going on for some time now – a few mosquito bites that never stop tingling and as soon as you touch them they start to torment you.

Secondo eyes you, brow furrowed, as if to ask why you’re fidgeting so much. The itch won’t leave, however. At this point it’s hard not to just give in and scratch until it’s bleeding and hope that it will just heal off.

“Mosquito bite,” you explain. “I’ve had them since I got here. Somehow they love to drink from my neck.”

“It is a very tender spot, no? Well supplied with blood.”

“Hm, I think so.”

You scratch until it hurts, then you force yourself to stop. Meanwhile, a distant noise becomes louder and louder until a truck enters the courtyard. Its loud beeping as the driver turns around and goes into reverse hurts your ears to the point where you cover them.

“Oh, I quite forgot about that,” Secondo says and stands up. 

You watch from the pergola how a few of the Nameless Ghouls appear and carry boxes as well as barrels of wine outside loading the truck. Secondo further rolls up the sleeves of his button down shirt to help, carrying boxes until there is not much space left. The Ghouls bring three more barrels and you watch in utter fascination when Secondo picks one of them up like it weighs nothing more than a feather, placing it inside the cargo area. A minute later the truck takes off to his destination and the Ghouls disappear.

“This… was this a full barrel?” you ask, still in shock, the moment Secondo joins you again.

“Oh, no, of course not.”

“Why would you deliver an empty one?”

He eyes you, sitting down, not even out of breath. How is he so fit? You never see him working out. “Always so many questions, grappolino. So curious.”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” you say with a shrug.

“Some people buy them,” he says at last. “For eh… decoration purposes.”

You eye him skeptically. Even carrying an empty barrel would take a lot of strength. At the same time, you assume, he has been carrying boxes and barrels and heavy pieces of furniture for years now. When he reclines against his chair, you again take notice of how pale he is.

“You should wear sunscreen,” you say. “You look like the pale type that burns easily.”

“I am Italian, my dove. I am not the pale type.”

“Still, sunlight is the main cause of skin aging and skin cancer.”

“Are you telling me I look old, grappolino?”

“After you just carried all these things old is the last word on my mind that I would use to describe you, no.”

A smirk tugs at his lips but when you take out your sunscreen, waving it in front of his face, he still allows you to apply some to his cheeks, chin and forehead. You think that any excuse to touch him is worth it, even if it means acting like a mother hen to a significantly older man. Despite your inner desire, you don’t let your hands linger on his face. Touching him feels vaguely forbidden, even with his consent and over the greasy layer of sunscreen. Your shaky hands certainly betray the nervous flutter in your body and when you sit back down on your chair, your stomach is in uproar.

Yes, these afternoons are your highlights because with every day you feel like you take a precious step closer to him. And if you’re really lucky and he’s not too busy he takes you back to his private kitchen afterwards to give you your own little tastings, introducing you to flavors your tongue has never met before. One month in now, you can honestly say that the decision to come here was the best one you ever made in your life.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Vampire Gazette 04/08

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Don’t miss when the new special varieties of the world famous Papastrello wine are introduced. Now with a hint of blood and many more flavors.

What? Food, Wine, Socializing

Where? Emeritus Vineyard

When? September 29th

⛧ ✦ ⛧

It is a subtle art to manipulate the taste of blood. You have to feed your prey the right flavors of food and pour the perfect drinks down their throats to influence the aroma in just the right ways. Too much alcohol and the blood is ruined, too much sugar and it tastes like cheap supermarket wine. Secondo has refined his approach over the past centuries to match his personal preferences.

“Grappa,” he says, pushing the thin-stemmed glass in front of you. “A young one.”

You sway the glass underneath your nose, inhaling the sharp scent. There is not much you could deduce from the smell, not with your human senses, but he appreciates how you always try to use them regardless of how futile the results.

“It is distilled from the pomace after the winemaking,” he explains as he watches you nip. “Nothing goes to waste.”

You smile. “That is a very progressive view.”

“I think it is a very conservative view. Traditional, if you will.” He raises his brows, waiting for your reaction. “Do you like it?”

“It’s nice, it burns in all the good ways.”

“It used to be the drink of farmers,” he explains, filling your glass again. “Until technology progressed in the last century. The taste improved a lot, now it is very popular. I learned how to make it in Northern Italy not too long ago.”

“Were you always a winemaker?”

“No.” He does not elaborate, though his brow furrows as the ghost of distant memories tries to haunt him. The flicker is gone as fast as it came. “Come here, grappolino.”

You do, walking over to where he is sitting and stopping right in front of his chair. He grabs your hand with his gloved one, the back facing upwards before he takes some of the grappa and spreads it on your skin.

“Go on,” he says. “Take in the aroma.”

The scent that hits your nose is pleasant, much more pleasant than the taste. When you are done, looking back at him, he reaches out for your hand and brings it to his own nose, holding your gaze. His lips graze your skin when he sniffs and you think you’re about to combust, your whole body tingling nervously at the unexpected touch.

“Impurities show in the smell,” Secondo explains, remaining unfazed. “Of course, this one does not have any. It is perfect.”

“Of course,” you repeat and when he looks at you with his intense discolored eyes, you’re not sure if he meant the grappa. “So… is that true for people as well?”

His brows rise, a smile tugging at his lips as he nuzzles your hand. “Hm, I don’t smell any impurities in you.” A pause in which you stare at each other, unmoving, unblinking. “Unless they are…” His hand slides up your arm, agonizingly slow. Fingers sprawl out on your cheek, cradling your face before he taps his index finger against your temple. “In here.”

“I can’t say my thoughts are very pure when I’m around you, no.”

Your admission, so readily given, hits him like a gut punch. His cock jumps in his pants, swelling until his slacks are uncomfortably tight. It’s not like hasn’t daydreamed about making you come in a hundred different ways, about having you sprawled out underneath him in the very bed you first opened your eyes to him, to have you begging for him, showing him just how obedient and good you can be when it really counts. Right now, he wants to bend you over one of the wine barrels and have his way with you until you’re crying out his name, until every bit of boldness leaves your body and you’re at his mercy in more ways than one. He wants to teach you the sin of lust until you’re fluent in its very language.

“You’re the first human in a long time that’s tempted me,” he admits with a sigh, pulling his hand from your face. “But the sinner knows temptation when he sees it. I won’t fall, little dove.”

You chuckle, leaning further back against the edge of the table. “The first human? That sounds ominous.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “You should thank Satan for the gift of ignorance. I know you like to ask questions but sometimes it is better not to know.”

“Secondo,” you whisper and then you’re closer, your leg touching his knee. It is evident by the way your blood rushes to your face that you can see the predicament in his pants. He makes no attempt to conceal it. “I don’t know what it is that you think you need to protect me from. But I just wish… I just wish…” You visibly swallow. Then your tongue darts out to wet your lips, slowly, sensually. “If you’re a sinner, then why not sin?”

It is foolish of him to allow you to slide into his lap. Even more foolish to place his hands on your hips and pull you closer, to feel your soft flesh against his thighs. Your hands land on his shoulders, delicate, curious fingers that feel him without shame. They stay there until you sit so comfortably that you don’t need the support anymore at which point they start to travel – over his chest, down to his belly, back up over his bare forearms. The skin contact is more intoxicating than the grappa. You’re always so warm.

It is only when they reach his face that he flinches. You stop immediately, trying to meet his gaze through his glasses. He takes a deep breath. You’ve seen Terzo’s eyes, there is no reason why you would be spooked by his now. And yet–

“Please?” you whisper.

He knows that meeting your gaze with no barrier is going to bring him to his limits. It is a last safety measure, a shield to prevent you from seeing into his soul and to stop him from falling into yours. Curious, beautiful eyes who have seen way more of him than he ever wanted to bare. Still, it seems like you have softened the hard edges of his resolve. More and more of him trickles from the cracks and he can’t quite figure out how to mend the leaks. 

His cautious nod is all it takes for you to take the frame of his glasses and carefully pull them off his face. You hold his gaze so bravely, even as you set them down on the table. The quiet that follows is agonizing even to him. His muscles tense and even though he tries not to blink, he’s the first one to do so.

“You do have the same eyes,” you finally whisper.

“Runs in the family.”

“Ah.”

Those soft fingertips dance along his jaw now, tracing the lines on his skin as though you’re drawing a map. He allows you to get to know his face, even allows your palm to cup his cheek when you gain more courage. The warmth spreads inside of him like a flame, kindling his deepest, most carnal desires that used to be latent for so long. 

It terrifies him and yet he craves nothing more than to give into the pull of their current.

“Secondo,” you whisper, his name laced with all of your needs, and then you’re leaning in.

He already feels your hot breath against his lips, your thumb swiping along his sharp cheekbone, and he can’t help but admire your boldness. It would be so easy to give in and accept his fate, accept that he is not as immune as he thought. But to do so would be to admit to his feelings and the consequences, the pain this would cause you both, is not worth a fleeting moment of passion.

He turns away at the last second, your nose brushing against his, even as your lips miss. You pull back, looking at him with your heavy-lidded, lust-filled eyes. It takes everything in him not to grab you. Confusion ices over your features then and he uses the moment to gently push you off his lap until you land on your feet again.

“Go to bed, grappolino,” he says and to his own shame he can’t meet your eyes as the words leave his mouth.

Even so he catches the hurt of rejection that flickers over your face. He can already smell the salty tears gathering in your eyes, even as he fully turns away and starts to clean the table. Your footsteps retreat with no argument, no witty comeback, not even an insult or a sound of annoyance. He almost wishes that you would have slapped him.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

When he sneaks into your room that night dried tears stain your velvety cheeks. They present him with a feeling he has not dealt with in centuries – guilt.

He falters, thinking that he should not feed from you tonight, not after refusing your intimacy earlier when you offered it to him so willingly. And yet, perhaps even more now, he wants to feel your skin against his as if to offer you the comfort he cannot give by day. Against his better judgment he settles in bed next to you, facing you this time instead of just taking your neck from behind. You’re sleeping on your side, one cheek squished to the pillow, the other one available to him. Secondo pulls at his gloves and gently strokes along your cheekbone, gathering what little wetness remains. You’re warm. So warm.

With some effort he leans over you, finding the spot on your neck and reopening the wound with his fangs. As he begins to drink, his arm wraps around you, pulling you into a more comfortable position. It is the closest thing to a hug.

The contrast between you and him hits him with full force in that moment. He’s not sure why you’re not afraid of him. Most humans sense the presence of a vampire. Unaware as to what the threat is, they still usually feel unease or a vague air of danger. Perhaps you have no sense of self-preservation or perhaps you truly just don’t fear him. Perhaps you’re one of the few people who are unaffected, too curious for your own good.

Or perhaps you were simply made for him. Perhaps Lucifer made your paths cross for a reason.

The thought of having you, of leaning into what has been building between the two of you is terrifying but thrilling at the same time. With your blood in his mouth it is easy to imagine claiming you, revealing himself to you, bringing you into his world and showing you its magic.

He’s not sure how you sense his line of thinking but in that moment you start to shift, moving against him like you’re trying to get closer. He slips, losing grasp on his powers for just a moment but it is enough to make you rouse. You don’t fully wake but your sleep lightens and with a tired sigh you cuddle up to him, tilting your head so he has even better access. An arm wraps around his middle, fingers playing with the hem of his black shirt until they graze his bare midriff. 

“Secondo,” you whimper. 

It awakens something inside of him he has not felt before, not a sexual feeling but a thrum somewhere close to his heart. Need is dripping from your voice, the smell of your arousal hits his sensitive nose, and he’s sure you must be dreaming about him now. Before he knows it he has sunk both of his fangs into your neck and is sucking the blood oozing from the wound. His senses explode, the feeling of your skin on his fingertips, your taste, the way you sigh and seek out his embrace. Lust he can handle, hunger he can handle, but these feelings run deeper, digging below the surface and clawing their way into his very core.

Suddenly it’s all too much. He pulls away from your abused neck, already discolored and swollen, and the sight of what he’s done is enough to propel his overwhelm and guilt into new heights. Secondo slips from the bed and before he knows what he’s doing he finds himself back in his own bedroom. He throws his gloves to the side and stares at his shaking hands. Hands that held you not five seconds ago. Hands that are already yearning to hold you again. His body is buzzing with the need to be close to you, trying to chase the feeling he had when you clung to him, and he hasn’t felt this alive in centuries.

He slides to the ground, leaning against his bed and staring through the window at a growing, nearly full late August moon. What he should be focussing on is the Vinothek, the preparations for the event not even a full month in the future, the growing tensions with the werewolf community and the upcoming wine harvest, not playing around with his little human. 

Secondo licks along his teeth, grazing his fangs, but the taste of your blood won’t fade from his mouth, no matter how many times he swallows and swallows and swallows. It remains there, a phantom of you to remind him of his folly. He knows he won’t find any peace tonight.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

When you dream of him this time, it sets your body on fire. Your imagination, in comfort or torture, brings him into your bed where he wraps himself around your body and kisses your neck with reckless abandon. It seems to last all night but at the same time you feel like you’ve only slept for an hour. Waking up is like being ripped from paradise and cast back into the raging horrors on earth. At first you think you still feel his lips on your neck but the sensation turns into a dull pain, not that of a love bite but that of a hammer repeatedly hitting your skin. You remember his rejection from last night and promptly feel like throwing up.

With your mind still stuck in the fragments of the dream, you enter your bathroom to splash your face with some cold water. The pain on your neck has reached into your whole shoulder area by now and you pause when you spot your reflection. A huge purple bruise has spread over the area around the bite. How–

It would not be the first time your body has let his frustrations out on yourself in sleep. Maybe you scratched the mosquito bite too hard, maybe that’s why you dreamed about him kissing your neck in the first place. At any rate, what you really need right now is a cup of coffee and some painkillers.

Without as much as changing you quickly head downstairs. The house is eerily quiet as usual, the morning has just begun after all and the sun is creeping up over the horizon. Every window you pass reveals a spectacular view of the vineyard with its rows and rows of wine dipped into the soft orange light of a late summer sunrise.

The sight helps improve your mood somewhat. Though that is quickly reversed when you reach the kitchen. You’re already halfway to the coffee maker when you jump after spotting Secondo sitting at the large kitchen table. His own cup of coffee sits in front of him as he reads the paper and you’re wondering if he never went to bed in the first place. 

Of course he has already detected you, eying you curiously. He’s not wearing the glasses, you note, only his gloves, a simple black polo shirt that draws your attention back to his forearms. Quickly, you avert your gaze and focus on the machine in front of you, your face hot in shame for your silly attempt to kiss him as well as your dream.

“Buon giorno, grappolino,” Secondo says, closing the newspaper he’s spread out in front of him and folding it neatly. You can’t read his expression, not even with his eyes revealed to you. 

“Good morning,” you say. “You are up early.”

“Sì. We get some important deliveries today.”

The noise of the espresso machine drowns out your hum of acknowledgment and briefly ends the conversation. However, Secondo’s gaze lingers on your neck and you realize that you’re still only in your loose sleeping shirt and pajama bottoms, the bruise in plain sight.

“It’s… it’s not a hickey.” You’re not sure why you’re saying it. It’s not like you could have got one in the span of the few hours that you’ve been separated. “I don’t know how I got it, probably scratched too hard in my sleep.”

He doesn’t reply, not with words, but there is something in his expression that is wholly foreign to you. His brow is furrowed, his lips slightly parted, and without his glasses you can see a range of emotions reflected in his eyes. If you didn’t know any better you’d think it’s a mixture of shame and guilt. He doesn’t stay long enough to let you see more.

September

Harvesting wine is a brutal job. That is what you’ve been told, anyway.

Hand-picking the grapes instead of using machinery protects the soil, Secondo told you, which is why the Nameless Ghouls head out every morning and every evening to gather them manually while the sun sits low on the horizon.

“The grapes have to stay cool,” he told you when you asked him why they left at four in the morning each day. “It reduces the risk of bacterial infections.”

You watch the bustle from your window, how they start at the bottom of the hillside and make their way up, row after row with buckets and containers on their backs. Once their shift is over, they bring the yield back into the courtyard where they prepare it for further processing. 

It seems like they never get tired.

Most days, Secondo and Terzo either help them pick or they take care of pressing the grapes. Things stay a little awkward, at least for you. Secondo does not really acknowledge that anything happened at all and since the whole vineyard is busy with the harvest while you’re stuck in the office or in the shop, restocking shelves, checking inventory, taking care of shipments, you hardly even see him. On one hand, his rejection still hurts, but on the other hand you’re relieved that he has not fired you or had any other negative reactions to your advances. It would not be the first time you meet an emotionally repressed man who pushes you away. Not the first time you calm your anxiety by nurturing your foolish hopes that maybe one day he will find it in him to like you back.

You learn that the harvest has to go over quickly before the grapes are overly ripe. It’s no surprise when they’re done after no more than three weeks. The cold storages are filled with grape juice just like the wooden barrels in the wine cellar where it now rests, fermenting slowly over the next few months until it turns into wine.

With the harvest done, focus shifts to the upcoming tasting event. When you don’t see Secondo chasing the ghouls through the guest wing for some last minute changes to the interior, you usually know he’s busy in the wine cellar, entrenching himself in one of the back rooms which he told you are not for nosy little doves. You’re sure he’s working on his new wines, perfecting the secret recipes. He prefers to work undisturbed in silence, so whenever he is busy down there he has you stock the mini bars in the guest rooms, make floral arrangements to decorate the sitting rooms or prepare small self-made gifts for the visitors. Anything to keep you occupied elsewhere.

You’re not sure if he really wants to work in solitude or if he’s just avoiding you.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Secondo never took himself for a coward. 

He is a smart, calculated man who has a few centuries of experience under his belt that help him go through life mostly unscathed. He tries to anticipate risks and act accordingly and he might come across as cold or dismissive at times because of his measured choices. He hides, he protects, he does what he has to do. But he is not a coward. 

He is not a coward but since that night, he has not drunk from you.

It bears the question if avoidance and cowardice are two sides of the same coin. If he can’t win either way. The impulse to ignore an issue is not exactly familiar to him but with the event coming up, with the harvest and goings-on at the vineyard it is easy to slip into a mode of focus that pushes you away by keeping busy.

If it weren’t for that hunger.

He’s drinking enough blood from his supply to sustain him but somehow it will not sate him in the way that your blood does. Even as he works with Terzo now, preparing the rooms for the guests that are arriving today and tomorrow, all he can think about is you. It certainly does not help that your smell lingers in every single room.

“Fratello,” Terzo pipes up behind him. “Did Primo say he would bring someone?”

“Hm?”

“He’s…” His brother snorts, pressing his greasy palms against the freshly cleaned window. “I swear to Satan, he’s with a human.”

“Di che parli?”

Secondo can’t help but join him, glancing out of the window like that one annoying neighbor everyone hates, scanning the courtyard in search of his older brother. Primo’s old Bentley has been parked at the far side beneath the beech trees. His long blond hair dances in the breeze behind him as he rounds the car and opens the door to the passenger seat. Someone else steps out, not a ghoul nor anyone else Secondo has ever seen before. The person holds his gloved hand and he immediately pulls them into his arms, wrapping his deep red cloak around them. He leans down to kiss them on the mouth, tenderly, taking his sweet time as he cradles them in his arms like they’re the most precious thing in the world.

“Ma che cazzo…” Terzo whispers. “The old man found someone before I did.”

“He’s with a human,” Secondo states.

“No shit, Sherlock, eh? Not all of us are anthropophobic.”

“I am not–”

“Satana, are they going to stop making out? That’s disgusting.”

“Stop spying, stronzino.”

He practically pulls Terzo from the window and forces him to welcome their brother in the entrance hall downstairs, as respect demands. They have to wait another five minutes until Primo appears, carrying two large suitcases, the human he brought with him entering alongside. They’re young. Very young in fact. Probably around your age, he can’t help but note.

“Fratello!” Terzo greets him exuberantly, opening his arms to him. Primo barely has enough time to set down the suitcases before Terzo’s lips press to his cheeks in two loud kisses. “You look well! And you brought someone, che sorpresa!”

“I am well,” Primo says as Terzo quickly moves on to the human, taking their hand delicately in his and bringing it to his lips. Meanwhile Primo faces Secondo who is still rooted to his spot behind the reception desk. “Grazie per l’invito.”

“Grazie per essere venuto,” he replies diplomatically. “It is good to see you, fratello.”

“To be honest, we need a place to stay for a while.” He turns to his companion who has since been freed from Terzo grasp, wrapping a possessive arm around their waist with a sort of love-sick expression that Secondo has never seen on him before. “This is my little flower, my greatest treasure. I want you all to meet.”

Terzo and Secondo exchange a quick look but before they can say anything the human speaks up. “It’s nice to meet you both. Primo told me a lot about you.”

“Only good things I hope, eh?” Terzo asks.

“They know,” Primo says then. “You don’t have to hide.”

“You told them?” Secondo asks, the shock evidently woven into his voice. 

“Fratello, what is going on?” Terzo’s reaction is quite similar. “Werewolves, a human?”

In that moment Secondo’s senses detect you coming down the stairs. He shushes his brothers, nudging Terzo towards the suitcases in hopes of giving the appearance of a normal check-in. The last thing he needs right now is another human finding out.

“I told you I am not your bellhop,” Terzo complains.

You round the corner, then, and they finally pay enough attention to notice you as well. Secondo can’t help but take you in when you descend to their level. His eyes find your neck, the bruise mostly faded but even so the memory of that night is clear in his mind. That appetite inside of him stirs, the urge to have his lips on your skin again to taste not just your blood but all of you.

“Oh, hello,” you say, effectively bringing his attention back to the situation at hand. “I thought I heard voices. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, grappolino.” He has to force himself to stop staring at you. “The first guests have arrived. This is our brother, Primo, and his… partner.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“And who is this?” Primo asks, shooting Secondo a knowing look before he greets you with a gentle smile. “How lovely to see a new face in these old halls.”

Secondo introduces you, not without a hint of barely concealed shame. He can feel Primo’s eyes boring into him throughout, the accusation of hypocrisy very evident in his narrowed mismatched eyes. Of course Primo would see right through him. His older brother’s senses are even stronger than any of theirs. He would not be surprised if he still smelled him on you.

“Can you find a Ghoul to carry their luggage?” Secondo asks. “I would like to have a moment with just my brothers.”

“I won’t leave my flower,” Primo says, vehemently shaking his head.

“It’s okay,” they interject, running a soft hand along his arm. “I will just start unpacking.”

It is only with a great deal of reluctance that Primo follows him and Terzo into the kitchen and leaves his little flower to you. The eldest immediately finds the kettle and brings some water to boil. Old habits die hard, Secondo supposes. Serious conversations are only to be held over a calming cup of herbal tea.

“Cos’è successo?” Secondo ask once they all sit over their mugs. “With the wolf?”

“It was not done on purpose,” Primo says. “I was protecting someone I love. That is all you need to know.”

“The human?” The word comes out with much more venom than he anticipated.

“Ah and you are here to pass judgment?” Primo asks, giving him a withering look. “You?”

Secondo presses his lips together. “Not judgment. I am trying to understand why.”

“Is it so hard for you to imagine caring about someone? To love them so much that you would kill for them?”

”No, I–“

“I am not here to be questioned,” Primo interrupts. “You invited me to an event, no? That is what we are here for. If you allow us, we would like to stay a few more days until we can move into our new home. But apart from that, I do not wish any commentary on my life.”

“You are moving?” Secondo asks. “With the human?”

“Oh, don’t mind him, fratello,” Terzo chimes in. “He is just grumpy because he fell in love with a human as well but unlike you he already messed it up. We are very happy for you and your little flower.”

“I will not have this childish conversation,” Secondo says. “There are werewolves running amok because of this, attacking our kind.”

“And they will calm down,” Terzo says. “There are a few rogues, it is not the whole community.”

“Secondo, I know you are worried.” Primo’s voice lost the defensive tone, instead it sounds much more like the caring, diplomatic voice his brother is used to. “But I don’t need your protection. If any werewolf is foolish enough to attack us, they will face harsh consequences. I will defend what is mine and I urge you to do the same.”

Secondo lets those words sit for a moment. He has never felt protective of anyone outside of the family before but now the first person that comes to his mind is you. Would he have done the same, killing a werewolf to save you? Potentially rekindling a centuries-old conflict between two communities? 

The answer comes surprisingly easy.

“Did you invite Copia?” Primo asks then. “He is not here?”

“Oh, he is busy playing Dracula somewhere in the Slovakian mountains,” Terzo replies. “He said not to expect him but to send him a few bottles.”

“He is not doing well.” Primo takes a long sip of tea. “It has been half a century.”

“Until father steps down this will not change,” Secondo says. “Copia has the rightful claim to the title.”

“Well, we had this argument before and it caused a family feud that made us vulnerable in the first place,” Terzo snaps. “The old stronzo doesn’t give a shit.”

“Let’s not get into this now,” Primo says. “We are here to celebrate that your business is doing well, Secondo. It will give the community something else to talk about for a while.”

This is as long as they manage to keep Primo from going to look after his flower, leaving them to stew over their own tea mugs they won’t be emptying. Secondo struggles to grasp what he learned today. Primo – the experienced, the wisest and most reasonable of them – is in love with a human. A young, kind, lovely human. And he is happier than ever before.

But perhaps that is not what is so hard to understand. Perhaps it is the fact that Secondo wishes he had the very same thing. Primo’s words still ring inside of his head. Is it so hard for you to imagine caring about someone?

The answer is no. He knows exactly what it feels like.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

The next twenty-four hours are the busiest since you came to the vineyard. Guest after guest arrives and Secondo puts you in charge of welcoming them. You’re behind the reception desk most of the night because apparently most of them traveled through the evening hours. By twelve pm on the very day that the event takes place the last guest arrives. He is a middle aged man with dark hair and kind brown eyes, looking far more average than the rest of the guests with their fancy clothes, aristocratic features and expensive cars. He reveals his name to you and you scan the reservation, finding him at the bottom as one of the last ones to book a room. There aren’t any left, so he must have got lucky. 

“That would be the blue room, sir,” you offer, handing him the key.

He eyes your neck, then, and you’re not sure what he is looking at, if he can still somehow see the faint remnants of your bruise in the dim lighting inside. Before you can apologize for your appearance, he glances away again, smiling. “Thank you, little one. The blue room sounds lovely.”

“Let me ask someone to carry your luggage, sir.” 

You’re ready to ring the bell and call for a Ghoul. However, the man stops you with a wave of his hand. “Oh, not necessary. I shall carry it myself. A little workout never hurt anyone.”

“Oh, okay.” 

He’s already up the stairs when you’re distracted from the encounter. Secondo strolls into the entrance hall. He does not appear nervous, despite only having eight hours left until the event begins. Right now he’s dressed in a simple polo shirt, slacks, his usual gloves and sunglasses. You love it when he looks somewhat casual, at least to his standards. Still, you can’t quite revel in his handsome appearance. Since the tasting is so close now, your anxiety has risen to an uncomfortable level. He said he needed an extra pair of hands but he never specified for how long.

“Has everyone arrived?” he asks when he reaches the desk.

“Yes, the last guest just went to his room.” You eye him as he scans the list in front of you, not even taking notice of the state you’re in. “Actually, do you have a moment?”

He looks up, then, and you freeze. Even through the glasses meeting his eyes has the heavy impact of a gut punch. You’re surprised by how gentle his voice is. “Of course, my dove. What is it?”

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry,” you ramble before you can think twice about it. “I know, we were just being a little flirty with each other and that this is very different from actually attempting to kiss you. I feel very stupid now that I… that I misread the situation and I want to apologize. I love working here and I don’t want to lose it when the event is over. I enjoy being here, spending time with you and I don’t want to leave.”

“Grappolino, who said anything about leaving?”

You’re almost crying, tears pricking your eyes like a thousand needles. “You’re avoiding me. I just assumed that when you don’t need me anymore…”

He stops you by reaching for your hand, pressing his thumb into your palm. “You do not have to worry about this right now.”

“How can I not? You’ve been acting all sorts of weird with me.”

Secondo sighs deeply and you regret bringing it up now when he’s already stressed. But then he perks up as though something caught his attention. He pulls you into the door to the wine cellar by the stairs just when you hear voices and footsteps approaching. Blindly you stumble after him, shivering when you reach the cold stone masonry downstairs where he turns on an old, dim ceiling light. Down here it smells of fermentation, wine and vaguely of must. You lean against an old table, listening to the gurgling sounds of the carbon dioxide leaving the barrels.

“You won’t go, grappolino,” Secondo says, running his gloved hand over his face until he reaches his sunglasses and takes them off. “In fact it is I who should apologize for how I’ve been treating you. For things you don’t even know about.”

You stare into his odd eyes, the white iris almost glowing in the gloomy old cellar. He takes two steps until he’s right in front of you and you feel a cold shiver of anticipation running along your spine. You haven’t been this close since the grappa incident and the smell of his cologne makes you dizzy with need.

“My dove, you did not misread the situation. I very much wanted to kiss you.” He cages you in, resting both of his hands on the table at your sides. “And I very much want to do so right now.”

“Please,” is all you can say. “Please, Secondo.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up into a smug grin at your begging tone, the lines on his hollow cheeks deepening. He leans in until your breaths mingle, until you can feel his exhales tickling your lips. “We shouldn’t,” he whispers into the tight space. “It is foolish.”

And yet he does not pull away. His hooked nose nuzzles yours as if to savor the moment for just a bit longer. You dare to reach out and wrap your hands around his strong neck, playing with the collar of his shirt. He hums when your fingertips brush the tender skin at his nape and his own hand moves to cup your cheek, looking for more contact. The leather feels soft, hiding how his firm grip keeps your head in place. His eyes are stuck on your lips and you decide to close yours, mentally tracing the line of butterflies that flutter from your belly all the way up to your throat. Another hum leaves him when you part your lips in a sigh and then his thumb pushes your jaw up, tilting your head just right before his lips capture yours.

His mouth is cooler than expected, softer too. Secondo takes charge of the kiss in a way that makes you weak in the knees. Gentle but firm at the same time he moves his lips against yours, slowly increasing the pressure. You moan softly, clinging to him as your body sinks and sinks against him. His hands move to your hips to catch you and he easily sets you down on the table, stepping between your legs until you can feel his whole front against yours. He’s already half-hard and his outline is only growing against your stomach.

You snake a hand between your bodies, cupping his length through the tightness of his slacks. Secondo groans into your mouth, pushing his tongue between your lips with urgency. You kiss back with the same hunger, swollen mouths and eager tongues exploring each other to the last crevice. When you break away, saliva drips from the corner of your mouth to your chin and he licks it off, kissing from your cupid’s bow down to your jaw.

Before you can properly recover your breathing, Secondo’s hand toys at your lips and he slides two of his fingers inside your mouth. You receive them, allowing him to press down on your tongue.

“Get them wet for me, hm?” he murmurs into your skin. “My perfect little dove. So eager, so filthy, just waiting for me to fill you.”

You suck at the digits spurred on by his praise, swirling your tongue around their length while his lips firmly attach to your neck in a bruising kiss, just like in your dream. You struggle to keep your grasp on reality, lust and pleasure overwhelming all of your senses. When he finally pulls his hand from your lips you feel horribly empty. He gives you no time before he pushes his hand into your pants, not even playing with you before he immediately slides it in deeper. He finds your opening, fingers probing and widening before he slips one inside. You keen, grasping his shoulders for support and he adds a second one shortly after. The stretch is beautiful, thick, gloved fingers that he crooks expertly to hit that sweet sensitive spot inside. You think he moans louder than you at the contact, sinking against your body for a moment as the sensation hits him.

“You…” He shudders, groans deeply into your ear. “You’re so… warm.”

He gasps when you impatiently rut against his hand, rolling your hips in sync with the movements of his fingers inside of you. He helps you along, pumping his fingers in and out of you while still kissing your neck with his insistent mouth. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper, closer, until his hard cock rubs against your front at every thrust of his hand. Secondo grunts like a wild animal and then his teeth sink into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. A stinging pain shoots through you and you cry out in surprise. The feeling is not unpleasant, on the contrary – the pain mixing with your pleasure makes you wonderfully dizzy. He must have broken the skin because there is more wetness now than just his spit trickling down your throat. Secondo startles when he feels it, breaking away from your neck, and you can see blood staining his teeth and lips. “I’m sorry– I–”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “It’s okay, I like it rough. Don’t stop.”

His lips press to yours urgently. You moan, tasting your warm blood in his cold mouth, and you push your tongue inside even deeper for more. Secondo’s movements speed up. His fingers fuck you roughly until you can’t help but clench around them. It only takes a few more flicks of his tongue against yours, a few more strokes of his fingers until you’re tumbling over the edge. The moan that breaks from your throat echoes loudly in the old stone halls and you whimper pathetically at every thrust with which he carries you through your pleasure.

You notice that his hips still hump your front in sync with the last few pumps of his hand, chasing the friction of your body. He’s grunting, his open lips pressed to the corner of your mouth before they slide down to your neck. His tongue darts out to lick the remaining blood from your collarbone, eager strokes of his tongue that leave a wet trail over your skin before his lips close tightly around the wound. Suddenly he stills, releasing a drawn-out moan stifled by your wet skin and you feel his cock jumping inside of his pants when he cums. For a moment he holds you against him, removing his fingers to wrap both of his arms tightly around you.

“Perdonami, per favore,” he whispers, pressing a thousand soft kisses along your neck. “I hurt you. I hurt my little dove.”

“Don’t apologize,” you stress. “I like it rough, I would have told you if I didn’t.”

“That’s not…” He sighs. “No, I cannot hurt you. It has to stop.”

“Secondo.” He falters at the sound of his name, frowning at you. “I liked it. Please, don’t worry.”

He takes a shuddering breath, shaking his head vehemently. “Grappolino, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

You smooth out the deep line between his eyes, caressing his features with all the tenderness you feel towards him. He slowly relaxes, resting his forehead against yours. For a while you stay like that, embracing each other, breathing each other in. Your heart beats strongly against your ribs, longing to reach him. You’re not sure if you’ve ever been this happy before.

“Secondo,” you whisper, nuzzling his nose with yours. “I think I’m in love with you.”

He freezes against you, his limbs going rigid. After a moment he pulls away to meet your eyes and there is such visible confusion etched into his features. His mouth opens slightly, revealing the edges of two sharp fangs, still dipped in your blood. His eye turns from a deep red to its usual green.

Suddenly, it all begins to fall into place. Perhaps you breathed in too many alcoholic fumes down here, perhaps you’ve finally lost your mind. But the way he lapped at your blood, the way he avoids the light, the bruising around your neck, the sunglasses and late nights, how you dreamed about him with blood staining his mouth, his eye glowing red–

“Secondo!” a voice calls down the stairs. “Sbrigati!”

His head whips around and he tries to break away. You attempt to keep him there, holding onto his shoulders, urging him to stay. “Secondo, are you… are you a–”

“We have to talk later,” he says, tearing himself away from you with ease. “We have to head to the Vinothek and get ready for the guests. I will wait for you in the courtyard.”

”But–“

He won’t hear you out. Before you can say another word he’s already upstairs.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Somehow you manage to get dressed. Your legs hardly carry you upstairs, weak from the force of what just happened as well as the sudden stress added on top. With your evening outfit already neatly laid out on your bed it doesn’t take you too long to get ready but you also can’t find any calm moment to gather your thoughts. Your suspicion spreads in your mind, carrying a hint of fear but also curiosity. You’re sure you’re slowly losing grasp on your sanity. It’s impossible. You’re not superstitious, on the contrary, you’ve always relied on your thirst for knowledge, on the fact that you learn fast, that you see through things and quickly understand them. But if your notion turns out to be true, you ran into the trap of a predator with open arms and a bared neck.

Even so, your suspicion doesn’t stop your cheeks from burning when you meet everyone in the courtyard, Secondo and his brothers already waiting for you in the shade of the pergola. When his eyes meet yours you feel a pull, a need unlike any you have felt before. You can’t help but wonder if you’re being manipulated, if this is all a mirage and he’s been toying with you all this time.

Real or not, their looks for the night take your breath away. What strikes you the most is how all three of them are wearing face paints that shape their features like skulls. They’re all slightly different but Secondo’s looks the most menacing, stressing the sharp edges of his jaw and cheeks. In contrast to that of his brothers his eyeshadow is glittery, sparkling in the light that meets his face.

Suddenly you’re wondering how the thought of them being vampires has never occurred to you before. Secondo looks quite like Count Dracula himself in his white button down shirt, a green brocade vest under a perfectly cut suit jacket, an emerald green bowtie, black slacks and leather brogues that match his gloves – the same gloves that were inside of you not even half an hour ago. Terzo’s outfit is quite similar only that his shirt has ruffles, the vest is a deep purple and he’s fixed a silver brooch on his collar that bears the upside down crucifix you’ve seen tattooed on his body. Primo is wearing a crimson brocade tailcoat, his long blonde hair curled at the edges while his partner’s outfit was carefully chosen to match his. They look like they jumped straight out of a classic horror movie – elegantly menacing, aristocratic and weirdly out of time.

During your ride to the Vinothek, you’re closely pressed to Secondo’s side on the backseat of a short limousine with darkened windows, driven by one of the Nameless Ghouls. Even dressed up you feel quite out of place. His strong thigh is pressed against yours, distracting you enough that the five minutes pass quickly. You stare at his hands resting in his lap, toying with the hem of his gloves, and you wonder if he wore the same pair on purpose.

At the venue, more Nameless Ghouls arrange tables and chairs in one of the side rooms that are usually empty. You feel pretty useless while the others discuss the tasting, so you refill the shelves in the store up front and distract yourself by preparing the bar for the evening. At some point Secondo approaches you behind the counter. “You can handle the hum-” He coughs. “The evening bustle while I lead the tasting?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Thank you, grappolino.” He stops, almost reaching for your hand but pulling back just before your fingers touch. He looks like he wants to say more, you want him to say more, but his lips stay sealed. It is odd to look at his painted face, a man you thought you knew, thought you were in love with. Now it is hard to say if any of it was real.

Once the first guests arrive, you’re tasked to show them into the event location. You know the actual tasting is going to take two hours with the subsequent chance to socialize. Once the door closes you get somewhat comfortable behind the bar. Throughout the night you only have to tend to two guests, the rest of the time you spend googling everything that you can about vampires on your phone. No helpful sites pop up, only a few intense subreddits about suspected vampire sightings that only serve to confuse you even more. 

About two hours later, the door to the side room bursts open and Terzo storms past. He pulls at the door of one of the wine fridges, blindly reaching for one of the bottles. Secondo follows two seconds later, closing the door quietly behind him with a deep sigh. You step aside when Terzo reaches for a corkscrew, pulling the cork out like it’s nothing.

“You don’t know if it is true,” Secondo says, leaning in the doorway.

“Well, they’re not here,” Terzo says. “They didn’t come.”

“You should be glad they did not, fratello. It spares you the pain of another rejection.”

Terzo lifts the bottle and places it at his painted mouth, taking a long swig until the paint is smudged and his lips take on a deep crimson tone. He lets the taste sit for a minute, seemingly content before he starts to empty the bottle without pause.

“Fratello, you need to calm down,” Secondo warns him. “This is a wine tasting.”

“Yeah, so? Are you supposed to be boring at those?”

“They are a more… sophisticated sort of event. Come sai.”

“What I know, fratello, is that I’m here for a good time, just like everyone else. I want to have some actual damn wine and find someone to fuck later, sound sophisticated enough?”

“Terzo,” Secondo says. “You can’t fuck or drink the pain away.”

His brother frowns, grabbing another two bottles from the fridge. “Watch me try.”

You follow Terzo with your eyes as he pushes past his brother and disappears in the other room. Through the open door you can hear the bustle of people socializing, the clinking of glasses. “Will he be okay?”

Secondo closes the door and shrugs. “This is going to cost me a lot of wine. It is not easy to get him drunk.”

“So ugh… who didn’t come?” you dare to ask.

“His ex.” Secondo lifts his hand to rub at his eyes but thinks better just before they touch his make-up. “It is a long story. Someone told him they’re with someone else.”

“Secondo,” you try, now that you have him alone. “Actually, I’ve been wondering…”

“I need to look after him before he causes a scene. Can you do me a favor and get some of the orders sorted? The bottles are in the backroom. You can pack them in the usual boxes and bring them out back where one of the Ghouls will pick them up later.”

You want to argue with him, force him to listen to you, but he seems too tense to risk an attempt now. Instead you nod. “Where are they?”

“I will bring you the forms.”

With that he disappears into the side room as well. You’re curious, maybe too curious for your own good, but you just have to risk it and slip inside as well. The sight that meets you has you gasping. All of the guests have gathered around bar tables, wine glasses filled with a deep red liquid as they eagerly chat and drink. Even in the dimmed light you realize that this is not the same wine you’ve seen served at the bar, nor does the texture resemble any of the ones Secondo had you try. No, if it’s true and they’re– 

A sudden sense of terror overcomes you, even more so as you notice the first curious pairs of eyes on you that you swear are a glowing red. They don’t look real, they don’t look even remotely human, and most of all they look hungry.

“You are too curious for your own good.”

Secondo is by your side immediately, blocking your view before he ushers you out of the room. You let him carefully manhandle you until you’re outside of the door, still petrified from what you just saw, from the sudden horror fantasies your mind conjured up.

“The orders,” he says, pressing the documents into your hand before he gently cups your cheek.  You’re panicking, maybe. Or perhaps you’re not breathing at all. “My dove.”

“Hm?”

“Are you alright?”

You nod, telling yourself that this can’t be true. It simply can’t. You’re seeing ghosts, your brain has taken hold of an idea and ran wild with it. This is the real world, not one of the many novels you read. Secondo is right here, looking just like always, his iris green and not glowing at all.

“I’m sorry for busting in,” you say, realizing your silly mistake now. “I just… God, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m losing my mind.”

“Grappolino, I promise we will talk tomorrow. First we have to get this done, yes?” His thumb swipes over your cheek, so gently that you decide to believe him. “I will meet you once the guests leave and we will talk about what happened today.”

“Alright.” You nod, leaning into his touch. “I’ll… I’ll take care of the orders.”

He must know of your suspicion, he must know. His eyes tell you that he’s not going to let you leave, that he has an eye on you if you want to or not. For some reason you still feel safe knowing that he’s here, his touch nothing but comforting. His nod is barely noticeable but he does let go of your face eventually to go back inside. 

For a few minutes you have to hold onto the wall, slowly breathing in and out, trying to calm your racing heart. Perhaps it’s the lack of proper sleep. You spent most of last night checking in guests, only getting a few hours of rest in the early morning. 

This is ridiculous, you tell yourself, vampires aren’t real.

Once you’ve recovered, you start to pack the boxes, distracting yourself with the basic, monotonous work that is packing order and updating inventory. You’ve already carried a couple of boxes outside into the alley behind the Vinothek when your sneaking suspicion grows stronger again. There is an easy way to find out whether they were really drinking blood. One way to prove to yourself that you’re overreacting.

Without thinking you rip one of the boxes back open. The bottles look like any other wine bottles. Papastrello, the label says in gold-foiled lettering that is all too familiar by now. The only difference is the upside down cross that is stamped into the paper. The bottles are about the same weight, the dark glass no different from the other wine bottles you’ve seen. The only way to know for sure is to open it, to look at the wine itself.

In that moment you’re too scared to head back inside, too scared that someone is going to sense your suspicion and either laugh about your paranoia or possibly harm you for finding out what no one should know. You feel quite unhinged when you grab the bottle and smash it on the concrete of the sidewalk. What splashes out and mixes with the shards of glass is a red liquid that might be wine or might be blood, you can’t quite tell. The pale light of a full autumn moon reflects in the color, making it much paler than it looked inside. You know that you have to try it to know for certain whether it is wine or not.

It takes you a long moment of persuasion, silently debating with your inner voices until you reach out and wet your finger. On your skin, the liquid feels wrong, thicker, creamier, but also not quite like blood. You swallow your fear and bring it to your lips.

The moment your finger hits your tongue a deafening growl echoes in the street behind you. The sound is predatory, animalistic, ringing inside your ears long after it stopped. The hairs on your arms stand in alert as you turn around, expecting an aggressive dog or perhaps even a wolf straying from the woods. But what meets your eye is anything but. The creature is huge, filling the width of the whole alley with its broad shoulders and even as it cowers, resting on his two huge clawed hands, it’s almost as tall as the cars lining the main road. 

The metallic taste on your tongue is forgotten the moment you spot it. Another growl and the beast jumps into action, galloping along the alley just as you scramble to your feet. Flight is hopeless, you barely take two steps in an attempt to sprint before its heavy steps are right behind you. Still you run and suddenly it seems like you’re making headway, the sounds gaining distance. You dare to turn around when you finally reach the end of the alley. What you see feels surreal, like a nightmare brought to life.

Secondo is standing between you and the monster who seems to have stopped, assessing the situation. Against all instinct you take a few steps back in their direction, watching the furry creature with its deformed but still somehow human body. Suddenly you recognize him, dark hair, the same brown eyes. It has to be the man who checked in this morning.

“You attacked the wrong human,” Secondo says. “This is not who you’re looking for.”

The creature does not seem in control of itself as it paces the road, sniffing audibly, baring its fangs to you in an attempt to intimidate and scare. Secondo stays in front of you, the image of a predator himself, but compared to the werewolf he looks small, almost fragile. Fear buries its way deep into your body. Suddenly you’re not worried for yourself anymore but for him. Your heart is hammering so fast that it echoes inside of your skull, your whole body sweating and shaking. 

When the beast finally pounces, you shriek. Secondo grabs its massive arms to keep it at a distance but the werewolf tears at his clothing, ripping until its claws sink into his torso. His voice stretches into a pained scream that penetrates your whole body, deeper and deeper until you can feel it all the way into your marrow, rattling at your very core. The wolf is going to rip him to pieces in the blink of an eye. It’s going to kill him the moment he breaks his powerful hold.

You would never forgive yourself if he died because of you, if he got hurt trying to protect you. And maybe it is foolish, maybe you should let him handle the fight by himself, but you close the gap anyway until you can duck and reach into his pocket. Before you can think any of it through you’ve already sparked the flint and shoved the flame of his stupidly expensive lighter into the wolf’s fur. At first you think it is too dense to burn but then the beast starts yowling. The softer underfur has caught on fire, a disgusting sulphuric smell spreading around you. For a moment the wolf recoils in pain, letting go of Secondo who stumbles backwards. You’re trying to reach him but then the wolf deals one final blow, throwing his massive arms around his body. At the last moment, his paw smacks into your flank and pushes you down.

You land on the concrete, all breath brutally ripped from your lungs, and the intense pain of the impact explodes in your whole body. Secondo falls to the floor next to you with a heavy thud, dark non-human blood oozing from the cuts in his body. You hear more sounds as your vision slowly fades. Terzo is storming out of the back door, more people blurring into one big mass of faces behind him – and then you’re gone.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Vampire Gazette 04/09

Last night’s wine tasting at the Emeritus Vinothek ended in a brutal fight between the owner Secondo Emeritus and an unknown lycanthrope. The werewolf attacked a human employee outside of the establishment but could be stopped when the vampire intervened. He fled the scene while the other attendees took care of the victims. Both vampire and human escaped the fight slightly injured but are going to recover with no permanent damage, according to a spokesperson of the family. This is the tenth incident of violent conflict between vampires and werewolves in the past four months, following a surge of cases after the killing of a lycanthrope in May.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

“Here then, were all the admitted signs and proofs of vampirism. The body, therefore, in accordance with the ancient practice, was raised, and a sharp stake driven through the heart of the vampire, who uttered a piercing shriek at the moment, in all respects such as might escape from a living person in the last agony. Then the head was struck off, and a torrent of blood flowed from the severed neck. The body and head was next placed on a pile of wood, and reduced to ashes, which were thrown upon the river and borne away, and that territory has never since been plagued by the visits of a vampire. ”

You wake up to Secondo’s voice as he reads you the last few pages of Carmilla. Slowly noticing the world around you, you realize that you are in his bed in the mansion, the same soft white sheets surrounding your tired body that you found yourself in that first day. You keep your eyes closed, listening until the story is over.

“They always kill the vampire,” he says. “Perhaps they are right to do so.” A pause in which you hear the rustling of pages as he closes the book. “I know you are awake, grappolino.”

You turn around, opening your eyes to see him lying in bed next to you. The memories of what happened flood your brain, the way he protected you from the attack, saved you by risking his own life. You remember falling, the impact of the hit you took, and you’re surprised that you’re well, that you feel no pain other than the heaviness of your tired limbs.

“You slept almost a whole day,” he says. “I thought you might be angry with me. But I needed to watch over you.”

You take the book from his hand, running your palm over the smooth cover. Secondo looks tired, paler than usual and without the sunglasses you can see the extent of his exhaustion in his eyes. He’s wearing a dark green robe over black sweatpants, an altogether unfamiliar sight compared to his usual put together looks. No matter what happened, no matter what you now know, an intense surge of love for him floods your whole body and you can hardly shake it or push it down.

He saved you and you saved him. Everything else seems almost insignificant in that moment.

You shift so you can get closer and he watches you like a hawk, tracing all your movements.  “My dove you shouldn’t move around.”

You don’t listen, you can’t, even as the soreness in your muscles makes it harder. Eventually you settle with your head on his belly, closing your eyes until the wave of emotion has crashed over you. He only seems half as frightening from here, in fact he looks incredibly soft as he gazes down at you.

“What do you think would happen,” you whisper, “if instead of killing we started loving them?”

He exhales – a pained, heavy sound that carries a distinct sadness. His expression shifts and he shakes his head, watching you with glossy eyes. “How can you say this when you know what I am? When you see what my world can do to you?”

“Because I feel it,” you say with no pause. “Because my heart screams that it does. I’m not scared.”

“Of course you are not. You never were.” His hand reaches out but he stops himself. “Per favore, may I touch you?” You press your face into the soft fabric of his robe, giving him a firm nod, and he gently strokes your hair, running his fingertips over your scalp, more to soothe himself than you. “I will never forgive myself for being late. That I missed the wolf in sheep skin because I was too distracted. When it hit you…” His hand stills and his lips press together tightly. After a moment he cradles your cheek, caressing your skin with his thumb. “I will protect you. I will never let any harm come to you, my dove. I swear it.”

You turn your face, leaning into his touch. “Why did he attack? To get to you?”

“I drank from you,” he says. “Imprinting myself on you. He must have thought you were Primo’s partner. Or perhaps he was just looking to hurt any one of us and went after the smell. There has been an ongoing conflict.”

“Vampire werewolf politics?”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Yes.”

“I’m so confused, Secondo. I have so many questions.”

“I know, my dove. I will answer them in time but you need to rest.” He sees your disappointed expression, running his hand along your lips now. “One question.”

“Your business…” you start. “Does this mean vampires don’t harm people? It’s not like they show us in all those movies? They drink from bottles and you get it from blood donations?”

He cringes slightly at your question, a painful twist, perhaps at the prospect of disappointing you. “Many vampires still… hunt. Some are more predatory, some are more subtle, some prefer to not hurt anyone. There are a million ways to feed, amore, and we have no laws to regulate this.”

“But why would they still hunt?” There is irritation, confusion in your tone. “If there are easier ways?”

“Some vampires enjoy the taste of fear in the blood,” he says. “A lot of adrenaline, stress hormones, it flows faster after biting too. Even here sometimes people are scared of needles and you can taste it later after taking their blood. But it is not as intense as it is when you… hunt.”

“Do you… do you like this taste?”

“No.” He falters, cocking his head to the side. “Not anymore.”

“But you have?”

There is a hint of accusation in your tone but he does not seem disturbed by it, on the contrary. “I will not lie to you. I have in the past, grappolino. Many young vampires do, a bit like teenagers who drink alcohol for the first time. But taste changes with time, as it does for humans, and I have left those wild, young days long behind me. In fact, since I tasted you…” He trails off, running his finger down your jaw until he strokes the faint remains of the bite on your neck. “I have no desire to hunt for a better taste.”

His words send a shiver through your body. His thumb presses back against your neck, then underneath your jaw, following the line of your pulse. Even knowing what he is and what he did – your body longs for his touch and you don’t know what to do other than give in. You press your cheek into the softness of his belly, the fabric of his robe smooth against your skin, trying to hide how easily affected you are. “So you were my mosquito? The bites were yours?”

“That is the second question.”

You furrow your brow, trying to pull away but he won’t let you. “Secondo–”

“You take me for a monster now,” he states. “And maybe I am, maybe I am cruel for wanting you for myself in ways that made me keep the truth, in fear that you could not accept me. But my feelings for you are real, they are consuming me more than any thirst for blood ever has. I am…” He swallows, his voice firm as he continues. “I am devoted to you forever.”

For a moment you let those words sink in. This is as close to a confession of his love that you got until now and you realize that it must take him everything to be so open with you. He seems to mistake your silence for rejection.

“I understand if you want to leave,” he says. “I will not stop you.”

You shake your head, finally managing to sit up and properly look at him. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t ever want to leave you.” He looks pained at your admission, like he has almost been hoping for a rejection. “Why are you so hesitant? Is it that unheard of to be with a human? Your brother is with one as well.”

“Every time I have opened myself to someone it ended in pain and it will end in pain with you, grappolino. Unbearable pain, loss, grief, loneliness.” He stops himself, his eyes red and glistening. “With you I have let the sun back into my life. And I cannot… I cannot bear to have the world take it from me again. Non credo che lo potrò sopravvivere questa volta.” (I don’t think I can survive it this time)

“It doesn’t have to, Secondo,” you assure him. “There are ways… there are ways to make it last, right?”

“There are ways. But this… it is not something to take lightly, amore.”

“Secondo, I want you to know that… that if it ever happens, if I ever die, I want you to turn me,” you say. “I don’t want to leave you, ever.”

He pauses, shaking his head at the conviction in your tone. “We will discuss this later. You need time to think about it, to learn more.”

“You saw how fast it can happen. I feel like–”

“Amore,” he interrupts. “Not now. The next time I think about your death it will not be in this bed.”

You sigh reluctantly, trying not to mope as you settle against his chest. If he has a heartbeat it is too slow and quiet for you to hear it. But his body underneath yours feels nice, soft and welcoming. You notice that he doesn’t seem to be in pain either.

“Why am I not hurt more?” you ask. “I know that’s another question.”

“We have healers in our midst. They have some influence on your circulatory system.” His hand moves to rest on your waist, playing with the hem of the loose white shirt someone put you in. “You will feel sore for a bit, I think. As will I after my body healed my wounds.”

“Would it… would it help if you drank from me?” you ask.

“You’re too weak, my dove, but I appreciate the offer.”

You sigh, bringing your hand up so you can run your fingers over the sliver of chest that peeks out of the robe. Slowly you open it more and more, toying with his dark chest hair and feeling the smooth skin underneath.

“What do you think you are doing, hm?”

You just smile up at him, pushing the robe all the way open. He doesn’t stop you from exploring more of his body, following the line of hair down to his belly, supple and slightly raised. His own hands start to grab more of your body then, squeezing the flesh on your hips, grabbing at your ass. Before you know it he takes hold and pulls you fully on top of him. Your core meets the outline of his hardening cock, barely concealed by the sweatpants. You gasp at the contact, slowly rolling your hips for a bit of friction.

“You feel good enough to tease me,” he says. “Then you feel good enough for a kiss?”

A smile breaks out on your face and you lean in, resting your upper body against his. Before your mouths can touch he has already grabbed you and sits you both upright. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer and trapping you in his lap until you can feel all of him. Only then does he allow you to close the gap. The kiss has a bruising force, lips pressing in hard, teeth clashing until you adjust and find a heavy but more controlled rhythm. His tongue licks into your mouth hungrily, flicking against yours and you moan, vibrating against it. Your whole body shudders, looking for more, anything to quench the need pooling into your core. Secondo groans at every roll of your hips, sucking on your tongue, biting your lower lip like he wants to consume all of you within seconds. You kiss back with just as much hunger, tying to keep pace. Your whole body is burning with need for him, carrying you higher and higher. After a while he slows, hitting an invisible break, and you follow, pulling away to look at him.

Secondo heaves an exhausted sigh, not letting go of you but creating a small gap between your faces to breathe. “I am not quite in shape yet, amore. I don’t think I can keep up tonight.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to drink?”

Maybe it is the way your voice is practically begging him to do so, maybe it is the hunger in your eyes or maybe he truly needs the energy that your blood provides because he finally relents. You pull at your shirt, baring your upper body to him and for a moment he hungrily takes you in, running his hand over every curve, thumbs teasing your nipples until you arch into him.

“So responsive,” he murmurs as he kisses along your jaw. “So good for me.”

His words make you squirm in his lap, the hard friction of his cock adding to the pleasure that runs through you at every touch. “Please. Please, Secondo.”

“Already begging for my cock?” He huffs out a chuckle, hooking his fingers underneath the elastic of your underwear. He rips the fabric apart with ease, running a bare finger over your arousal. “And already so eager. Always so, so eager.”

“I need you,” you whisper. “Please, all I want is to feel you.”

“Hmm, that is all I want too, grappolino. Perhaps you can use the time while I feed...” His fangs scrape over your skin, not breaking it but leaving a burning trail along your throat. “… to keep me nice and warm, hm?”

“Yes,” you immediately squeeze out. “I will do anything.”

“But there is a catch.” He pulls at his sweatpants, freeing his cock until it slaps against your abdomen, trapped in the tightness of your bodies. “You have to be so very good for me. You cannot make a single move. Can you do that?”

“Yes. Yes, I can.”

“Good.” 

He lifts you up carefully, keeping you on your knees above him. You leak onto him, drops of your arousal landing on his cock, and he hisses, his fingers digging into your flesh. With one finger, he wipes it off and smears it over your entrance until he can slip it inside, quickly adding a second. A deep moan leaves you at the intensity of the stretch but you quickly adjust and find pleasure in the stimulation. He pumps a few times, spreading his fingers to widen you even more. When he seems satisfied he pulls them out and grabs both of your hips to pull you down into his lap. The tip of his hard cock slides into your entrance. Before he is even fully inside you already clench around what he offers, making you both moan at the sudden intensity. Slowly you sink down further, his mouth hot on your neck while you run your hand over his shoulders. Once he is fully sheathed, he gives a full body shudder.

“Satana, you are so warm,” he whispers, his voice as delicate as if he is saying a prayer. “So, so warm.”

You don’t speak, allowing him his moment of silent reverence. However, patience is not on your side today and you can’t help but squirm after a second, trying to find the smallest amount of friction. His cock is big, girthy, stretching you open like nothing else you’ve felt before.

“No moving,” he finally says. “I need to be precise.”

With that his lips search for the spot on your neck. He stops eventually, opening his mouth and wetting the spot with his tongue. You expect the pain and yet the sting draws a whimper from you. Secondo stops at once, waiting for your reaction. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “Keep going.”

His fangs pull out and you can feel the blood oozing from your vein. Hungrily he laps at it, not quite sucking but firmly holding his mouth over the wound, tongue swiping at the hole in your neck with every swallow. It’s slower than you expected, even as your heart rate goes up in arousal an anticipation. His cock jumps inside of you and you clench around him, earning you a moan from somewhere deep inside of his chest. For a few minutes you hold out, desire building inside of you with every drop of blood that leaves your body.

Eventually, Secondo breaks away. You notice that his skin feels slightly warmer underneath your fingertips, that his eyes look more alive when they finally meet yours again. The green one has turned red just like in your dream and a drop of blood runs down his jaw. You lean in to kiss it away, the metallic taste on your tongue an intense reminder of who you are with. Secondo reciprocates the kiss with renewed energy, licking the blood from your lips and tongue. You taste more of it in his mouth and you can’t help but moan.

“Your taste,” he says, breaking from your lips. “It is the most exquisite thing, my dove.”

“Do you feel better?” you ask breathlessly.

A nod. You squirm again, his cock shifting inside of you as you try to find a comfortable spot. Secondo huffs out a deep breath, the same strain visible in his eyes that has you whimpering with every little movement. “This is not how I want you,” he says. “I told you I would show you how to sin, no?”

With that he grabs your hips, a sudden invigorated strength that seems effortless as he easily manhandles you onto your back while he stays buried deep inside of you. The impact reopens the wound on your neck and you feel drops of the warm liquid running along your skin.

“White sheets…” you whisper as more blood dribbles onto the fabric. “Bold choice for a vampire.”

He chuckles, licking along your shoulder to catch the few remaining drops. He hums, his tongue almost rough when he cleans every drop you have left to give.

“Your blood sugar is low,” he whispers then. “When we’re done here I will feed you, amore. After a nap, perhaps.”

You giggle but it quickly turns into a gasp when he finally starts to move, slowly thrusting into you in a steady rhythm. He grabs your thighs then, pushing them deeper into the mattress until he has you folded in half. With him so deep inside of you your whole body is boiling. You can’t help but hold onto his shoulders, allowing him to move faster, fucking into you almost desperately now. Your arousal leaks all over your joined bodies, wet, squelching sounds soon filling the air around you as his hips piston into yours. You moan without shame ever time he hits that sweet spot inside of you, every time his skin rubs against the other sensitive areas on your body.

“I’m so close,” you whisper, keening and closing your eyes when he thrusts even deeper, slower now.

“You look at me, amore,” he warns. “You look at me when I make you cum.”

Your eyes snap back open, meeting the liquid fire reflected in his red iris. Secondo’s grip on you is tight and his own grunts echo in tandem with the sounds of your skin meeting, with all the desperate noises that leave your lips. You dance along the precipice for a moment, trying to last, trying to stretch out time for a little longer. But when he begins to stutter, his own eyelids fluttering in pleasure at every slow, deep stroke in an attempt to keep them open, you finally fall. The climax that hits you is stronger than any you have felt before and you’re a mess, mewling and whimpering, breathing in jolts as the heat spreads in your body like fire.

Your muscles clenching around him soon has Secondo following. His cock jumps, pumping you full with his seed while he breathes a low moan into your ear. You feel every raw shudder, every  little twitch, until it starts to leak out of you and he finally loosens his grasp. Your legs sink back to the mattress and he settles on top of you. Skin against skin, his cool while yours is hot and burning. For a long time you both calm down. Even if he doesn’t seem out of breath, it is clear that he needs the quiet moment of reprieve just as much as you do.

“Ti amo,” he whispers, first almost too low for you to hear but then louder. “Ti amo per sempre. Not even death can part our union.”

You press a gentle kiss to his cheekbone. “I love you, too.”

He huffs out a breath, turning you both to your sides where he holds you close against him, his lips tickling your temple as he presses more and more soft kisses to your skin. You start to relax, his sweet touches lulling you into a state of half-sleep. Your mind finds back to what really occupies it, all the questions and insecurities. A thousand thoughts are swimming in your head, some of them have to do with the sticky mess between your legs, some of them leave the four walls of this bedroom altogether.

“I can hear your mind working,” Secondo grumbles. “I thought I had distracted you well enough.”

“It’s just… are the Nameless Ghouls real ghouls then?” you ask. “And is the special wine all blood or is it some sort of amalgamation? The healer you mentioned, was it the doctor from the donation?”

“Grappolino,” Secondo warns. “All in due time.”

He shifts onto his back, pulling you on top of his chest. You have to bite your tongue to stop interviewing him because he is right – you’ve had enough exertions for the day, and you’d rather spend your remaining energy on more of this. 

“Should we have a smoke?” he finally asks.

“In your bedroom?”

“In our bedroom,” he corrects and reaches for the bedside table.

He grabs a pack of Marlboros, retrieving one to trap between his still swollen lips. The gold Dupont lighter opens with a cling and you have to smile. When he hands you the cigarette this time you don’t hesitate. You take a deep drag, pressing your mouth to his before you exhale. Secondo holds it inside, then releases the smoke into the air above you. When his arms close around your body in a firm embrace, you rest your eyes – and listen to the quiet sizzling of the cigarette as it slowly burns out.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed vampire Secondo. If you want to be tagged in any future Friday Nights stories pls let me know! Terzo and Copia will get their own stories, as you might have guessed from the hints in the plot ♡

Masterlist – My Ao3

[ramblingoak]

good morning kisses+ you're gonna get lipstick all over me with:

Ribz I took your prompt and gave it a vampire twist, I hope you like it!

Breakfast in Bed

Secondo x Female Reader ~ The perfect start to your new life as a vampire

Warnings: vampire violence and all that entails, biting, blood, more blood, sharing a meal vampire style, fingering, oral sex, p in v sex, soft!vampiric!Secondo, rough sex, nsfw, 18+ only mdni, 2400 words

It was strange waking up after you died.

You weren’t struggling to breathe, gulping down huge breaths of air.  Technically you didn’t need to breathe anymore although Secondo said you might still do it out of habit.  The first thing you became aware of was the feel of the cool sheets against your skin.  You used to make fun of Secondo’s demands when it came to thread count, but now you were nothing but thankful for his pickiness as you laid there naked. 

With a soft groan you stretched out, spreading your limbs wide on the large bed as you started to look around the room.  Secondo had promised you that you wouldn’t wake up alone but there wasn't a sign of him anywhere.  The thick curtains were drawn over the windows and the only light came from a few dim lamps scattered around the room.  You planted your elbows beneath you to push yourself up but a horrific cramping in your stomach had you gasping and dropping back onto the bed. 

The pain was more intense than anything you’d experienced before.  Even more than how much it hurt when Secondo had bit into your neck.  You moved a hand up to where his teeth hand sunk in, expecting to feel broken skin but there was nothing.  Your skin was smooth and cold to the touch.  No sign of what he had done to you, of what you had asked him to do to you. 

You had asked him to make you a vampire. 

The Emeritus family being vampires was a horribly kept secret in the church.  Most of that was due to Terzo, a man that couldn’t be discreet about anything.  But with their status as vampires being well known amongst the congregation it provided them with ample opportunities to feed.  Most Siblings of Sin were more than willing to expose their neck or wrist to one of the brothers.  You counted yourself among them although Secondo’s favored place to bite you was at the inside of your thigh.  Your flesh there was often marred with bruises and bite wounds from your Papa.

But that was before last night.  Before he bit into his own wrist and had you drink from him.  You could still taste him on your tongue and you unashamedly rubbed your thighs together when you thought of how erotic it had been. 

“Look at you.”  You froze at the sound of his voice, looking around the room for him without luck.  When he spoke again you turned your head toward the foot of the bed and had to stifle a moan as you watched him walk out of the shadows towards you.  “How do you feel, belezza?”

“It hurts.” 

He tsked at you, shaking his head as he climbed onto the bed fully nude just like you were. In a stark contrast from yours his skin was warm as he placed his hands on your ankles.  They moved up and down your shins in a soothing motion all while he held your gaze.

“Where does it hurt?”  You moved a hand to rest over your belly, biting your lip when his eyes wandered down to watch as you rubbed it over your soft flesh.  “I know why it hurts there, belezza, and I know how to fix it.”

“How?” 

Secondo smiled, his fangs glinting in the light as he answered you. 

“You need to feed, my darling.” 

He turned and held a hand out behind him, reaching out into the shadows.  With bated breath you listened to the soft footfalls of a visitor as they moved closer to the bed.  A sister you hadn't seen before emerged into the light and you could taste her fear in the air.  Secondo wrapped an arm around their waste and tugged them hard enough they fell across his lap and over your legs. 

“Is she...is she for me?”

“Si, she’s yours.  Ripe and ready to help you complete your transformation.”   He reached for the poor girl’s neck and swept her hair aside.  “Sister Dana agreed to help you, right sister?”

When she didn’t answer, Secondo grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her neck back.  She cried out, a wounded noise escaping out of her throat at the treatment.  Before tonight you would have stepped in to reprimand Secondo.  You would have told him to stop playing with his food. 

But now you were too hungry to care.

You managed to sit up, finding it easy to ignore the pain when every cell in your body was screaming for the blood pumping through the sister’s veins.  Your hands flexed nervously in the bedding though, not sure what your first move should be.

“Would you like me to show you, belezza?”

All you could manage was a frantic nod, but Secondo didn’t seem to mind.  He leaned into the sister’s face and gave her a kiss on each cheek.  You could see her cheeks blushing from the attention, her mouth falling open when he dropped kisses down to her jaw.  He kept going until he was at her throat, right over her jugular.  Secondo murmured a few things in Italian before opening his mouth and sinking his teeth into the poor girl’s neck.

“Papa!”

Her voice was loud and panicked, echoing around you.  She tried to say something else but the only other noise she could make was a garbled sob as her own blood filled her mouth.  Your stomach clenched painfully as you watched it drip down her lips and slide down her neck.  With a deep, animalistic growl Secondo pulled off and ran his tongue up to her jawline to collect the spilled blood.  The sister clawed at Secondo's chest, tears gathering in her eyes when all your Papa did was give her a cruel smile in return.

“Hush little lamb, you promised to be good.”   

You could tell his words weren’t registering.  A pained grimace had taken over her face as she struggled to breathe through the blood.  Secondo chuckled darkly before he leaned in and captured her mouth in a deep kiss.  After a few moments he held out his hand for you and you took it without a second thought, pulling yourself up and across the bed to press against his side.  Your eyes fell to her neck, to the blood pumping from the wound and you eagerly fell forward to lap at it.

It was amazing.  The taste of her blood slid across your tongue like wine.  It was warm and rich, coating the inside of your mouth before dripping down the back of your throat.  With a frantic moan you clutched her, pulling her away from Secondo to hold her more tightly against you.  He moved so he was at your back and you could feel his hands on your shoulders, feel as they slipped around your front to cup your breasts.  He pinched at your nipples, harder than usual but the pain was good, it was so good. You needed more of it. 

You sank your teeth into her flesh, feeling it tear as you bit at her harshly.  The wound easily opened wider and you started noisily sucking her blood down.  One of Secondo’s hands started moving down your stomach, his hands bare and smooth on your skin.  When he reached your cunt his chest vibrated against your back with a laugh.

“Wet for me already?”   

Without warning he pushed two fingers into your dripping entrance, groaning as your body eagerly accepted them.  You could hear the wet sounds of him pumping them in and out even as you continued to suck as much blood out of the sister as you could.  Secondo’s fingers started working faster, brushing against that spot inside of you he never failed to find.  In and out, over and over again.  Your orgasm was getting closer and closer and right as you teetered on the edge he pressed his mouth to your neck and bit down. 

The feeling of his teeth on you again made everything inside and around you shatter.  You pulled off the sister’s neck and fell back, letting Secondo catch you.  The sister fell backwards at the foot of the bed, her eyes blank and unseeing as they stared up at the ceiling.  There was blood still oozing from her mouth and neck, the sight making you growl and want more.  Secondo cooed into your ear, gently turning your head towards his and then capturing your mouth in a kiss.  He growled at the taste of blood there and the kiss turned sloppy as you each chased the blood smeared over each other.  With a deep groan he eventually pulled away, smiling softly at you before tilting his head towards the pillows. 

“You should get some more rest, my darling.”  

You pouted as you scooted back towards the head of the bed, you’d rather stay in his arms a little longer.  Both of you were now warm from the blood you had drank but it felt good to be in his arms regardless.  His face paint was now smeared and mixed with blood although it did nothing to hide his handsome features.  If anything it made you desire him even more now that he had finally turned you.  You felt yourself getting wet again as you took him in and you relaxed further back into the pillows, opening your legs a bit to try to entice him closer.  Secondo took a deep breath, a feral grin forming on his face.  He remained still though and you stuck your bottom lip out further, wondering what was stopping him.

“Secondo, come here.”

“One moment, belezza.”  He reached out for the sister, her chest barely moving with her shallow breaths.  You were surprised she was still alive, but as you watched Secondo lift her wrist to his mouth you figured that wouldn’t be the case for very long.  “We shouldn’t waste our breakfast.”

The softest of whimpers escaped the girl’s mouth when he bit into her again.  He was oddly gentle about it but that might have been because he was staring at you while he fed from her for the final time.  You held his eyes as you slid a hand down your chest, stroking over your breast before going further to your cunt.  His eyes followed your fingers as you started to tease at your clit, rubbing over it in tight circles as he watched.  When you moved down and slipped them inside of you he abruptly dropped the girl’s wrist, her blood dripping from his lips and dropping onto your ankles as he loomed over you.

“Such a naughty thing, teasing your Papa.”  

He leaned down and began to kiss your skin, his lips pressing into random spots all the way up to your thighs.  In the light you could see the bloody lip marks he was leaving, almost like lipstick, some with a hint of black from his face paint.  Secondo brought his hands up to the inside of your thighs and pressed them further apart so he could settle close to your cunt.  You were still moving your fingers inside of you and his eyes followed them, his hot breath grazing your skin as he moved his head closer.

“Secondo, please.”

You were ready for him to tease you some more, but in one swift movement he grabbed your wrist and pulled it away so his mouth could replace your fingers.  His deep groan as he tasted you vibrated through your whole body.  The grip he had on your thighs got tighter as he circled your entrance with his tongue a few times before dipping it in as far as he could.  When you were able to look down at him you could see where your juices had mixed with the blood and paint he was already wearing.  

Secondo looked absolutely feral as he hungrily licked and sucked your cunt.  You reached out with one hand and grabbed his head, your fingers sliding along his scalp for purchase.  He seemed to take the hint and buried his face even deeper against you, his nose pressing perfectly at your clit.  You were so close, so close to the edge again.  Gasps and whimpers were escaping you non stop as Secondo fucked you with his tongue.  You were about to start begging for something, for anything, to push you over when he finally moved his lips up to your clit, sucking on it right as he shoved two fingers inside of you.  He rubbed them along your walls perfectly right as he nipped your clit and you were gone, your whole body shaking as your orgasm ripped through you.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there recovering, the only thing that made you finally stir was Secondo’s lips moving up your stomach.  When you mustered the energy to look down he was kissing you between your breasts.  The area around his mouth shone with your release and you let your head fall back with a groan.  He laughed against your skin, his breath exhaling on your neck as he continued to move up.  When he was finally hovering over you, his eyes bright with laughter and love, you couldn’t help but laugh as well.  You reached up and traced down the bridge of his nose before resting both your hands on his broad shoulders.

“Will it be like this forever?”

He grinned before leaning down and capturing your mouth in a kiss.  You mewled as you tasted yourself on his lips, especially when you caught just the slightest hint of blood lingering in his mouth.  When he pulled away and sat up to kneel between your legs you pouted at the loss of his mouth.  Secondo just grinned again and moved his hands under you to grip your ass and lift you off the bed.  You wrapped your legs around his waist on instinct and he moved one of his hands to grip his cock.

“Are you ready for forever, belezza?”

Before you could respond he started pushing into you, relentless and without stopping.  His thick cock stretched you like his fingers never could and you reached out to dig your nails into his arms as the pleasure and pain rolled over you.  He didn’t stop until he was buried all the way, his hips flush with yours.  It was so good you couldn’t help but let out a joyous laugh.  The thought of forever with Secondo, like this, was amazing.

“If forever means I get to wake up like this every day, then yes.”  

Secondo laughed as he gripped your waist tighter, easily lifting you up so he could start fucking you at the perfect angle.

“Anything you want, belezza.”  His pace increased, punishing and pleasurable, his mismatched eyes staring into yours as he fucked you.  “Anything.”

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

[blehphegor]

⚰️ Vampiric Secondo Moodboard 

[theratboyking]

Heaven Is Not Fit To House A Love Like You And I

Pairing: Vampire!Secondo/Angel!Reader

Word count: 750 (A short one for a change)

Summary: basses off of this ask. I hope this is what you wanted.

Warning: blasphemy, running away together, fluff, angst.

The sun had just begun to set. Looking out towards the field, the flowers almost look like gold as they shimmer in the dying light. You always loved this time of day, always venturing away from your post to catch a glimpse of the world's beauty. It was how you had found him, or rather, how he found you. How you both had found love in the absence of light, the thing you should hold more dear to you. It was in darkness that you found each other. It’s how you both had been making your way back to each other for hundreds of years. It was in the darkness that you now found yourself, waiting once more for your lover to find you.  

The twilight gives its final shine. You could feel him getting closer now. It was only a matter of time before he would show up, fashionably late, as he always called it. He got on your nerves, but he knew you loved it. He was the opposite of order, always finding a way to push your buttons, making you want more, but tonight was not a night to be pushing your buttons. You felt him before you could see him. 

“You’re late.” Your tone was flat. 

He came into view, emerging from the shadows, “I’m sorry, amore, but I got peakish on the way over.” Secondo was nonchalant with his response, letting out a chuckle; he was always so nonchalant. It drove you absolutely fucking mad. 

“We need to talk.” 

It could be your heightened senses, or it could be how well you knew him, but he tensed at your tone. In the hundreds of years he has known you, Secondo had never seen you this serious before. He cleared his throat, bringing his hand up to signal for you to continue. 

“They know about us.” 

He scoffed, “I fail to see how that is a problem, amore. So what?” 

“So what? So what! Secondo, this is serious. I could be expelled for this. They could kill you for this.”

“I don’t fear them, mia angela.” His tone was hard as stone, standing tall. He wore a smirk on his face, flashing you his fangs. 

“This isn’t funny, this is bad, this is very bad.” By now, you were pacing back and forth. Wings puffed out, a few feathers sticking out of place. If it were different circumstances, Secondo would have found you adorable.

“There’s a simple solution; you just can’t refuse to listen.” 

“Secondo, I told you I can’t.” You stop pacing to finally look at him. This wasn’t the first time he had brought this up, but this was the first time he genuinely meant what he was saying. 

“And why can’t you?” He questions, searching your eyes for any sort of real fight behind them.

“I am an angel of the lord. You are a servant of hell. What would the higher-ups think? What would they do to us? We are enemies, fuck I should hate you. We are on opposite sides of this,” Tears began forming in your eyes. “How dare you curse me with love. This has to stop, Secondo.” 

“There’s only our side. It has been that way for a long time, amore, forget sides for two seconds. Think about what you want for a change.” He hesitantly steps closer to you, “It could just be us. We could be just us.” 

“What of heaven? What of my home, Secondo?” The tears in your eyes finally fell; you could feel your resolve slowly fading.  

He closes the distance between you both, taking you into his arms. “Heaven could not house a love like the one I hold for you, il mio angelo caduto.” He tightens his hold on you. “Hell could not stop me from finding your soul. I fly to it like a moth to a flame. We can run amore; I will run anywhere as long as I have you.”   

You relax under his touch, “I’m scared, my love.” 

He pulls away to look you in the eyes. Nothing but love stared back at you. You could get lost in him and only him. A fond smile forms on his face, and he slowly takes a step backward, “Then we can be together.” He offers you his hand, an invitation to follow him. 

Against your better judgment, you take his hand, following him to the ends of the Earth, just as you would for the rest of time.

[da-rulah]

Well, that was a bloody exciting final part to Secondo’s story…. I can’t wait to read Terzo’s 👹

The King

Part Three - The Consequences // ao3 // part one // part two Vampire Secondo x Female Reader

Summary: Complications arise following Mary's call. What are you and a vampire man to do?

tags: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, horror themes, VAMPIRE VIOLENCE, violence, smut, BLOOD, poisoning, minor character death, so much blood, so much smut, more tags on ao3.

15k words, my loves.

I want to thank @ramblingoak for everything. The hand holding, the cheerleading, the pre-approval of just about every word in this thing. I could not have done this without you. 💖 shouts out to all my discord ghesties and everyone who liked, commented and/or reblogged this work, The Count, and the Suck Club extended universe. There is so much incredible talent and love in this fandom 💖💕✨

Part Three: The Consequences

It took seven men to bring Mina down, five of which she took with her. Had the outcome been different you would have been in complete awe of the woman. Instead, you were left mourning her.

It was only after her death that you learned anything about Mina. She had trained in several disciplines, all of which drew Secondo’s attention years ago. She was a Doll first, but over time she became a trusted member of his security detail, someone he relied on to keep him and the others safe. You were angry with yourself for only learning this now.

You curled up on the bed, drawing your knees tight to your chest as Secondo paced the length of his room. He hadn’t spoken much since hanging up with Mary. The silence pressed hard on the room, growing heavier with each of his steps until you couldn’t stand it any longer. You crawled from the bed and blocked his path, forcing him to stop long enough to get your arms around his middle. As you pressed your face into his chest the dam broke, and tears spilled from your eyes.

He stiffened under your touch. “Tesorino, I—”

You shook your head and maneuvered his strong arms around your body, urging him to hold you. “Please, just…just for a second. Please.”

There was a part of you that knew he didn’t understand what you were doing or what you might need, that he didn’t know what he might need. This was the best that you had to offer without words that would surely come out wrong and fuck everything up. His hold began to tighten as it sunk in and neither of you needed to say anything about it at all.

And you fell so much more madly in love with him.

When the tears stopped, he reluctantly let you go in favor of swiping his thumbs under your eyes to dry your cheeks. He cradled your face, dipping down just enough to softly press his lips to yours.

“I need to go to the club,” he told you quietly. There was no question in it, just a flat statement that burst the little bubble the two of you had inhabited for the past few hours.

“I’m coming with you,” you countered. It didn’t matter whether he wanted you to or not. If these people had no problem killing Mina, you knew they were far more dangerous than he would ever say. You were never going to let him out of your sight again.

He studied you for a moment, debating whether he wanted to argue. He relented and took your hand, leading you into his ridiculously sized closet. His suits lined the walls, neatly tucked into a set order, followed by his shirts and his shoes. Rows of drawers housed his collection of watches and cuff links, and he watched you open and close each one with a fond smile, delighted by your growing fascination with his things.

None of the things mattered anymore now that you were his. He couldn’t stop himself from shuffling over and draping his body over yours.

Idolatry looked abandoned, the husk of the building unlit and cast in shadow. The front parking lot was completely empty, all those neat rows of spaces normally filled with luxury cars left bare. Secondo pulled around the back, parking his own stupidly expensive car next to that ridiculous SUV Mary had cursed the day before.

Inside it was quiet, all the normal hum and buzz of thumping music shut off in favor of Mary barking directions. The sharp smell of bleach stung your nostrils and you pinned yourself to Secondo’s side, gripping his arm to try to avoid looking too closely at the room. Aside from a few overturned tables and the handful of body bags against the wall, the club was largely still in order, just heavily soaked in a chemical smell.

Lucy stood in the middle of the room without a stitch of makeup, her face puffy and red even under the dim lights. It was odd, almost uncomfortable to see her wearing casual clothes—a pair of grey sweatpants that were at least a size too big, probably thrown on hastily once she heard the news. Her head turned slowly toward you and Secondo, her expression changing to something harsh.

New, angry tears streamed down her face as she gritted her teeth and stomped toward her boss. She began to hurl insults at him with every step, balling her hands into fists while she screamed. She struck him hard in the chest once she was close enough, then again and again until she slammed both of her fists into him with all her might. She was screaming incoherently with each heavy blow, but Secondo simply tucked you behind him and let her swing.

“This is all your fault!” she wailed. “You didn’t keep her safe. You fucking left to save yourself and it’s your fucking fault. Do you hear me? Mina is fucking dead because of you.”

“Lucy, I—” he tried.

“I don’t want to hear it! You tell me. You tell me right now what you’re going to do about this.”

“I—I—”

“I know what you are,” she seethed her chest heaving as she stared him down. “You hear me? I know what you are and you better fucking fix this before more innocent people get killed.”

“Lucy!” Mary hissed, bounding across the room to pull her away from their boss.

“Lucy,” he tried again. “I’m—”

She shook off Mary’s hold and swung wide, punching the vampire in the mouth. Her fist connected hard enough that Secondo brought his hand to his face in shock.

“Lucy!” Mary yelled, grabbing at her again.

He drew his hand away, his lip bloodied. He didn’t react, just stared down at the blood on his fingers. The room fell painfully silent as Lucy launched herself away from Mary and spat directly in Secondo’s face.

“You fucking fix it,” she hissed, finally letting Mary grab her and pull her from the room. The rest of the security team followed suit, no one wanting to stick around to see what his reaction might be.

No one but you.

He dropped onto the edge of the stage with a heavy sigh but kept silent. You could feel the anger radiating off him, the waves almost visible like heat on asphalt. You pulled the cuff of your sleeve over the edge of your hand and carefully swiped Lucy’s spit from his face while urging him to look at you.

“Talk to me,” you offered.

He shook his head. “You should go.”

You brought your other hand to his face, forcing him to look at you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“She’s right. What I am…they killed Mina because of me.”

“I like what you are.”

He scoffed at you. “No, you don’t. You have no idea what I really am.”

“Show me.”

He pulled away from you, shaking his head. “No.”

You grabbed his collar and pulled yourself up on the stage, your legs resting on either side of his. You made a show of lowering yourself onto his thighs, his every muscle flexing as you leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Show me.”

“I can’t,” he whispered back.

“Baby,” you purred, drawing your lips and teeth over his strong jaw. “You’re not going to scare me off. I knew you were a vampire before you fucked me on that desk, remember? I like what you are.”

“Baby?” he asked with an eyebrow raised.

“What? You want me to call you Daddy?”

He groaned and shifted under you, his hands coming to rest on your hips. “I told you; you have to stop calling me that.”

“Fucking make me then.”

A low rumble rose from his chest, a growl meant to warn you away from his true nature, but all it really did was make you soak through your panties. You rocked your core against him, heat rising through your belly as you felt him growing hard beneath you. You were his now, no matter what, and if you had to prove it by dragging this side out of him, then you wouldn’t hesitate.

You watched his eyes darken; pupils blown out completely as you pulled the bandages from your neck. You brought his hand to your throat, holding his fingers over the wound he’d made.

“I’m still yours, Secondo.”

His grip tightened, fingers closing slightly around your throat as he captured you in a bruising kiss. His teeth caught your lip, easily splitting it open to have your blood mix with his as his tongue invaded your mouth. You felt the bite reopen against his touch, blood slowly beading on the surface.

“I need—” he pleaded.

“Do it.”

He dropped his hand and pressed his teeth into the bite, drinking deep as a guttural sound left him. His arms locked around you, keeping you close as he rutted against you desperately. He pulled off your neck, panting hard as he drew the traces of you from his teeth. He smiled and shoved his hand down your panties, curling his fingers into your entrance without warning.

“Gonna make you mine all over again,” he growled into your ear as he withdrew his fingers. He slipped out from under you and ripped your shirt over your head before pushing you down on the stage.

A small whimper escaped your lips as you looked over your shoulder to catch him stroking himself while watching you, his trousers hanging halfway off the edge of the stage. He slipped one hand under you, easing your hips up so he could tease the head of his thick cock against your entrance, sliding himself through your folds while praising you with pretty words that didn’t match his tone.

“Baby, please,” you begged.

He folded himself over you, fisting a hand in your hair and yanking your head back. “Please what?”

You mewled under him, trying to push back against his body as you searched for relief. You knew he was strong, much stronger than he let on. Feeling him position you just how he wanted, knowing he was going to take you how he wanted was a bigger turn on than you could’ve imagined. “Please,” you begged again. “Please show me I’m yours.”

He smiled, using the hand in your hair to turn your face toward the mirror at the back of the stage. “Is that what you want to see, tesorino?”

Before you could answer, he pushed into you, burying himself with a quick thrust that left your mouth hanging open and your eyes rolling back. The stretch of him inside your cunt burned despite how wet you were, but he gave you a moment to adjust as his hand left your hair in favor of your tits. He pinched your nipple between his fingers, waiting for you to whine and writhe against him as he drew his hips back slowly.

You clawed helplessly at the glossy floor, trying to anchor yourself to anything as he brought his hands to your hips and pushed back into you. He set a steady pace, pulling at your hips to meet each rough thrust. You watched him in the mirror, biting into his own lip as he pounded into that spot inside you that brought you screaming over the edge. He fucked you even harder through your orgasm, almost immediately drawing a second wave of bliss from you. Your knees were killing you and you were fairly sure you wouldn’t be able to walk after this, but you begged him not to stop, to take what he needed from you.

He wrapped a hand around your throat again, squeezing tight as he pulled you back against him and thrust deep. He bit into the other side of your neck as he came, grunting hard as he pumped each hot pulse into you. You came apart completely, your body going limp against his. Gently, he eased you down, laying you across the stage as he pulled out and withdrew his teeth from your neck. He collapsed next to you, breathing hard.

“Tesorino,” he sighed. “Are you ok?”

“I’m better than ok.”

He huffed out a small laugh and dropped a kiss on your shoulder. “Thank you, tesorino.”

It took every ounce of strength, but you turned your head to face him. “For what?”

He shrugged. “Everything.”

Somewhere behind you, Mary cleared their throat. “Guys, I’m really not trying to interrupt, but can you please take it upstairs? There are still bodies I have to get rid of.”

Secondo let you recover on the velvet chaise in his office, his suit jacket draped over you like a blanket. He busied himself digging through the security footage, trying to figure out exactly how this could have happened. Idolatry was supposed to be safe. He’d built a fortress in the middle of the city to protect himself and the people he’d tried so hard not to get attached to and it still failed. These hunters had destroyed everything he’d worked for in a matter of hours, taking one of his precious Dolls with them.

Whoever the hunters were, they didn’t seem to operate under the same moral codes of the past. Mina should have been off limits to any of them, no matter how hard she fought back. The security tapes showed exactly how hard she fought, a sequence of events even he found difficult to watch. They’d killed his friend. Before you, he knew he would’ve never admitted that even to himself, but now his entire world was different.

No one was going to touch you or his friends again.

A knock on the door pulled his attention away from the horrific video. Mary gave a slight wave from the open door, their arms full of random objects as they waited for permission to enter. Secondo raised an eyebrow and gestured for them to come inside, not quite understanding until Mary nodded toward you. He realized Mary was trying to give him space with you, not sure how much room the two of you needed to be comfortable. He thought maybe you would’ve been fine with anything, but Mary knew him well enough to consider just how weird the entire situation was. But when he really thought about it, he hadn’t been uncomfortable around you at all—not after you’d kissed him.

He watched as Mary gently pulled you into a seated position and pressed a juice box into your hand, urging you to drink. They squinted at the marks on your neck before digging into a first aid kit and motioned for Secondo to join them. He held your hand while Mary dabbed at your wounds, cleaning up the bloody mess he’d made of you. They showed him every step, each little piece of the human needs puzzle so he would know how to fix you up better next time. There were more pink bandages covered in cartoon cats because Mary simply couldn’t help themselves, but the newer bite was worse than he’d intended. That one required him to hold a patch against your neck while Mary stretched medical tape over the edges with a sigh.

“You should get her out of here,” Mary suggested flatly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he argued gruffly. “I can’t leave. I have to find out who these people are.”

“You need to take care of your very human girlfriend, Boss—”

“I am,” he snapped in a tone that suggested Mary should be very, very careful.

“You are,” Mary agreed quickly. “But she’s very weak, Boss. If they could do that to Mina…They already got in once. There’s nothing stopping them from coming back and if they did? Right now? What do you think would happen?”

Secondo watched you take a long pull from the straw poking out from the top of the juice box, its insides caving in as you went.

“Mary’s right,” you added drowsily, your voice quieted by your efforts not to move your neck. “If they can kill Mina like that, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill me in front of you.”

“Tesorino—”

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t fight back, but strategy is probably the better option here.”

He brought a hand to your face, smoothing a thumb over your cheek. “You’re very smart, tesorino.”

“Hmm, I thought I was ‘kind of hopeless.’”

His face fell, eyes darting back and forth as he thought hard, the realization hitting him like a truck. Idolatry had so many patrons it was impossible to know them all, but the people in that video were somehow familiar. “They’ve been here before.”

“Yeah, Boss. We’re still trying to figure out how they got in—”

“No, they’ve been here before. They’re…they’re members. They must have been for a while now. That man that grabbed you right after Halloween, the one at that club—”

“Oh, fuck,” Mary groaned. “Ok now you two really need to get out of here. Go back to the penthouse and lay low, ok? I’ll reach out to some of my contacts and see if we can find these assholes.”

“Mary, it’ll be fine—” he tried.

“I’m not worried about you,” Mary hissed through gritted teeth.

Both of their painted faces turned to look at you.

“What did I do?”

“Well, for one, you fucked a vampire—”

“Ok Mary,” Secondo said loudly as he stood. “We get it. We’re going. Just…she’s not the only human I worry about.”

Mary cringed. “You’re not going to try to kiss me, are you?”

Secondo scowled at them; every line of his face exaggerated by the paint. “Don’t die.”

The ride back to the penthouse was quiet. Secondo’s hand rested protectively on your thigh the entire time, using the occasional squeeze to ground him in his thoughts. You didn’t want to say it, but you suspected that one little phrase was the most he’d ever expressed how he felt toward Mary. As much as it would be great to have Secondo finally in touch with his feelings, you doubted that was truly the case. It was something you’d only noticed a handful of times, that look on his face when he was deeply concerned. It was there when you’d been attacked and that night he tucked you into your bed. And it was there when he said goodbye to Mary at Idolatry.

The vampire was worried.

He kept it to himself, of course, locked up behind the tight line of his lips. When you arrived at the penthouse, he didn’t bother to join you on the sofa. Instead, he went straight to the kitchen and busied himself with whatever he could find. You shuffled over and wrapped your arms around his middle, pressing your face into his back as you tried to mimic his pose from earlier. You were nowhere near tall enough to completely envelope the man, but you latched on with all your strength anyway.

He placed a hand against your arms, letting his frantic movements slow with a soft hum. “Are you hungry, tesorino?”

You shrugged against him, not wanting to give up your position.

“I…It helps me sometimes. Cooking. It helps me calm down,” he admitted.

“That explains the lasagna,” you said with a light laugh. “And I believe I was promised food anyway?”

“Did I not satisfy your hunger last night, tesorino?”

You groaned, your cheeks heating up as you pushed your face even harder against him. “You’re so obnoxious.”

“Only for you.”

“Wow, I’m so lucky,” you teased sarcastically.

“Yeah, you really are.”

You rolled your eyes and pretended to dry heave as you peeled yourself off him and hopped on the counter. He grew quiet again, opting to tap a finger against your nose before shifting your leg out of the way. He reached into the cabinet below, grabbing whatever cookware he needed to distract himself from everything that was going on.

You watched him with a soft smile as he moved through the kitchen he knew so well, wondering how often it was he indulged in such things. There was a flow and a familiarity to his movements, like a muscle memory he couldn’t unlearn if he wanted to. Someday, you’d ask him about these things, about his past and who’d taught him to prepare food with such graceful movements. But today you were happy to watch silently as this man who had captured all your attention continued to surprise you.

When he finished, he passed you a plate before jumping up on the counter next to you. You sat shoulder to shoulder, still in silence aside from the occasional scrape of a fork. It was a comfortable quiet the two of you hadn’t yet been afforded. A brief moment of normalcy where you could rest your head on his shoulder and just exist together. It didn’t last long, but it was more than enough when he dropped a kiss on the top of your head and completely relaxed against you. You wanted to stay in that feeling forever, the soft and warm safety of belonging to someone who wanted to belong to you, but the quiet burst like a bubble, collapsing around you as his phone rumbled to life in his pocket.

He checked it quickly, letting you know Mary had sent an update as he read the lines of text. His teeth found his lip, chewing on the painted skin as his eyes darted back and forth. A heavy sigh left him before he heaved himself off the counter and gave you a worried look.

“These hunters…they’ve attacked others already. Mary said they have a poison—some kind of toxin that weakens us and they—” He swallowed hard, before continuing in a serious tone. “There’s something you should know.”

“If you’re going to start another ‘you shouldn’t be with me’ speech, I swear—”

“No, tesorino. I feel no guilt about my part in what happened. But all of this may be my own fault.”

“Ok,” you said slowly, sliding off the counter to reach for him. “You can tell me anything. Anything.”

He licked his lips as he looked down at you, some nervous gesture you hadn’t yet seen from him. He took your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. “Our existence is…complicated. That’s part of the reason my brothers and I have settled so far apart. But before you started working for me, Terzo and I went to visit Copia. He was…being threatened by a religious organization—”

“You mean like a church?”

“An abbey full of satanic nuns, actually. They occupied part of his castle as some half-baked safety measure. I guess it kept curious townspeople away.”

“Huh. So, what happened?”

“They threatened him—threatened to kill him, to expose him. So, the three of us tore through the entire abbey in one night. It…it wasn’t pretty.”

You squeezed his hand. “Why would they threaten him? If they lived there…if they knew who he was…”

Secondo let a soft, shy smile grace his lips. “He fell in love with one of their nuns.”

You nodded slowly. “The Countess is a nun? A vampire Count and a nun?”

“She was. But the Sisters of Sin are far from your typical nuns, tesorino.”

“But if these nuns threatened him, all you did was protect him.”

“I suppose.”

“Baby, your brother needed help and you helped him. I don’t see how that could be a bad thing. Especially under the circumstances if his only crime was falling for someone. Unless that’s…” you trailed off, not wanting to say it aloud.

He cupped your face. “Tesorino, no. It should have been no one’s business, but it was. And unfortunately, killing that many humans doesn’t usually go unnoticed. And Copia turned the Countess without even thinking about it first.”

“What, you guys have some governing body to answer to?”

He shook his head. “Not in so many words, no. There are just…rules. Things that are supposed to keep us safe or keep you safe from us.”

“I’m safe with you.”

He shrugged. “You might not be.”

“Stop. I told you I don’t want to do that again—”

“I know, I’m not—I don’t want you to go, but these people are dangerous. You could get hurt or…they killed Mina without a second thought, and I don’t know what they’re going to do next.”

“What about your brothers?” you asked softly.

“What about them?”

“Couldn’t you call them and have them help you? Like you helped them?”

He shook his head. “It would only make things worse.”

“I don’t—”

“No, you don’t. There is no quick fix for what is happening. If I call them, if they come here—it has consequences, worse than the ones we’re facing now. We don’t even know who these people are; all we know is that they’re after me. I won’t bring my brothers here and deliver them to fucking vampire hunters.”

“But couldn’t they help you—”

“No,” he snapped harshly and quickly began to panic, a thousand apologies falling from his lips. “I’m sorry, amore. But no. I know you mean to help but I can’t. I couldn’t bring them here any easier than I could send you away.”

“So, what do we do?” you asked and looked up at him. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, a dam ready to burst as you tried to hold back every worry. You could care less about what happened to you, but the thought of losing him hurt so much, an ache so deep you felt it with everything you were—bones and teeth and blood. Nothing was free from that horrible feeling as you reached for him, desperately wrapping yourself around him and hiding your face against his chest.

He slid an arm around you, holding you there as his phone began to ring again. He frowned at the screen, the indication that Mary was calling made both of your stomachs sink. He slid his thumb across the screen to accept the call, immediately switching to speaker as his grip on you tightened.

“Mary?” he asked carefully.

“Boss don’t—” Mary yelled, but the voice was far from the phone.

“We have your little pet,” a man spat into the phone over the sound of Mary struggling. “We normally wouldn’t bother, but you have an unusual attachment to your humans, Secondo. Is the girl with you?”

“Who are you?” he asked through gritted teeth. His fingers dug hard into your side; whatever calm he’d managed to find was long gone now, buried beneath a seething rage. It was coming off him in the same waves as before, when Lucy had shouted at him, but this time he wasn’t holding it back.

“You’ll find out soon enough, Mr. Emeritus,” the man teased. “That is, if you ever want to see them again.”

Secondo bared his teeth, an animalistic growl rising from his chest. “If you hurt them—”

“What? What will the big bad vampire do to little old me? Relax, old man. We’re not interested in hurting the familiar, we want you. So, what do you say, hm? What if I give you three days to make up your mind? You give yourself up or I kill your familiar. You choose.”

His chest heaved, fingernails breaking the skin and cutting into you as the man made his sickening offer. He didn’t bother letting Secondo answer. The man dropped this horrible ultimatum and ended the call before either of you could think.

“Baby?” you asked softly, shifting under his arm to alleviate the pressure from his hand.

He let up as he stared down at his phone, eyebrows knitted together. “Sorry,” he whispered softly. “I didn’t mean—”

“It’s ok,” you assured him. “What can I do?”

He shook his head. “Nothing, tesorino. You stay right here. I’m going to call my brothers.”

It wasn’t the sound of the elevator that woke you, but the sudden absence of Secondo’s body. That chime had pulled him from you faster than you thought possible. He’d barely left your side after the phone call, some part of him always touching you for reassurance that you were there, that you were ok. It was hard to see him so tense, but you did your best to offer him comfort in whatever way he seemed to accept. Staying within arm’s reach, tucking yourself into his side, occasionally pressing a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth; it was a simple list of things, but he’d relaxed against each one and finally allowed himself to doze off next to you.

As you slipped from the bed, you could hear him speaking distantly. A conversation moved between voices you didn’t recognize, the living room full of more life than ever. His brothers had arrived, their tones a little more easygoing than yours would’ve been, given the situation. Truthfully, you still didn’t know much about them. It was possible they had faced much worse in however many years of existence.

“I can’t believe you would show up like this,” Secondo groaned, his voice growing louder as you moved out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

“What is the problem, fratello?” the slightly smaller man asked. His face was painted like Secondo’s, though the design was different. He was dressed in an elaborate military uniform, complete with tails and gold accents. “You said war.”

“Epaulets?” Secondo barked. “The two of you in matching outfits is already too much, but epaulets? Seriously?”

“Hey,” the woman snapped, pushing herself between the two men. She was dressed in a uniform of her own, perfectly matched to the vampire next to her. Her paint was slightly more subtle with thick black rings surrounding her eyes. You realized they must be the Count and the Countess. “Little Lord Terzo walked in wearing a tux and you’re not yelling at him.”

“Yes, because I look amazing,” Terzo said proudly, dramatically sweeping a white glove over his outfit. His face was painted as well, but still different from his brothers with bold geometric lines drawn over his skin.

“Fuck, this was a terrible idea,” Secondo whined, burying his face in his hands as he dropped onto the sofa.

The Countess’s eyes went wide. Without Secondo’s massive form blocking out the room, she could see right to where you were standing.

“Hey Twos? Did you forget to mention something else on the phone?” the Countess asked lightly.

“What?”

Terzo turned and followed her line of sight, his eyes landing straight on you skirting the edge of the room. “Oh, fratello. Are you playing with your food now?”

Secondo moved too fast. Barely a blink, and he was across the room with Terzo hauled up by the collar, feet kicking wildly. “Watch your mouth, stronzino,” he ground out and dropped Terzo like dead weight before turning to you. “Tesorino, these are my idiot brothers Copia and Terzo,” he explained, pointing at the two men. “And this is the Countess, who is only dressed like an idiot.”

“This is vintage,” Terzo hissed from the ground.

“I don’t care,” Secondo sang.

The Countess looked back and forth from Secondo to you, a slight look of worry gracing her face before it changed to something happier. She crossed the room, tears spilling from her eyes as she ran toward you and pulled you into a hug. Her strength rivaled Secondo’s as she dragged you around like a rag doll. “The accountant.”

“Yes,” Secondo groaned and told them your name. “Now put her down, she’s a human not a kitten.”

“Um, hello,” you managed awkwardly as the Countess set you back down. “Sorry we’re not meeting under different circumstances.”

“Under different circumstances this stronzo would have kept you to himself,” Terzo said with a snort. He stepped toward you, giving you an appreciative look up and down. The action was not at all subtle, nor was the way he brought a gloved hand to your face, caressing your cheek. “Though I can see why.”

He let out a helpless yelp as Secondo grabbed the back of his jacket and tossed him across the room. “I’ll kill you far more painfully than those hunters, fratellino. Apologize.”

“Mi dispiace,” Terzo squeaked from the ground.

Copia cleared his throat. “He does have a point, Secondo. You also hide in your castle, it’s just—” He made a disgusted face. “Hideously box shaped.”

“I don’t know, amore,” the Countess argued. “It kind of suits him.”

“So glad you came all the way here to hate my apartment and hit on my girlfriend. Can we please focus? Mary is in trouble.”

You felt the mood shift in the room as Secondo all but admitted he was scared for his familiar. The others grew serious for the first time as they settled around the coffee table, each waiting for Secondo’s direction. When he finally spoke, the other vampires began shouting at him. He had delivered the worst plan any of you had ever heard—giving himself up. Whatever he’d said after that didn’t matter.

Copia began to pace, a long string of Italian swears and phrases falling effortlessly from his lips as he traced the length of the room and back. Any other time the family resemblance would have delighted you, but you barely noticed as Secondo’s words fully sunk in.

“You invited us here to watch you die?” Terzo spat venomously, saying exactly what everyone was thinking without any delicacy at all.

“Were none of you listening?” Secondo snapped back.

They began to argue, each vampire trying to shout over the others as you removed yourself from the scene. You closed the bedroom door behind you, trying to dampen the sounds of the argument. You curled up on the bed, hugging your knees to your chest as you chewed on your lip. You had listened, of course, just as the others did, and handing himself over to the hunters was only the first part of his plan, it was still the part that was hardest for any of you to hear.

The idea of losing him knocked the breath from your lungs, a pain that spread and burned deep in your chest. You wanted to scream until your throat bled, but you settled for crying alone in the dark of his room. A handful of days. That’s all the two of you had and it was nowhere near enough. Maybe if you had just said something earlier, maybe if you hadn’t doubted yourself so much the two of you could have had so much more.

“Tesorino?” he called quietly from the doorway.

There was silence behind him, the disagreement between the vampires long settled. You didn’t know how long you had been laying there crying in his bed. He didn’t wait for you to answer; he settled next to you and pulled you into his lap like he had done so many times now. The tears fell harder as you wondered if it would be the last.

“Amore, per favore,” he whispered into your hair. “What happened?”

You shook your head and wrapped your arms around his neck. “I don’t…I can’t…”

“Tesorino, it will be ok. I will find Mary; my brothers will find me, and I will come back to you.”

“It’s just…we—"

“Amore mio, mio cuore­—”

You choked out a small laugh. “I’m your heart now?”

“You have always been my heart, tesorino,” he said and held your hand against his chest. “Who taught you these words, hmm?”

“You think I would have a crush on a sexy Italian man and not do a little research?”

“Who is he? I’ll kill him.”

“Shut up,” you said softly and brought your lips to his.

“Tesorino, mio cuore, ti—”

You covered his mouth with your hands, gently shaking your head. “Don’t,” you begged in a whisper. “I know what you’re going to say, and I feel the same way about you. But right now, I need you to fuck me so hard I can’t remember how scared I am.”

He wrapped his hands around your wrists, pulling your hands away from his mouth. “Need?”

“Please?” you begged again, rocking your hips against him. “I just need—”

He brought his hands to your hips, guiding your movement. “Tell me.”

“I need to feel something else, Secondo. I need you.”

With a growl he turned his body, quickly pinning yours to the bed beneath him. He attacked the space where his borrowed t-shirt fell away from you, leaving your shoulder exposed like a target. He drew his teeth across your collarbone, pressing hard enough you were sure it would leave an angry red line. But you didn’t care what he did as long as he didn’t stop touching you. Somehow you had managed to have the best day of your life and the worst all at the same time, like some cosmic fucking joke about everything having a price. You didn’t want to think anymore, didn’t want to mourn your lost friend, or worry about what might happen to Mary or Secondo in the next few hours. You wanted a moment to just exist, where you and your lover were the only things left.

He moved down your chest, leaving a trail of hot kisses as his hands worked your shirt away from you. He took his sweet time, his mouth wrapping around one nipple, teasing it with his teeth while he pinched the other roughly between his fingers. A pleased hum reverberated in his chest as your hips bucked against him.

“So needy, tesorino,” he whispered against your skin, his thumbs dipping under the waistband of the shorts he’d set aside for you. He jerked them away from your hips, carelessly tossing them over his shoulder in a subtle display of his strength that made your core ache for him.

A new chorus of pleading and begging fell from your lips as he pushed your knees apart and hooked your legs over his shoulders.

“Oh god,” you whimpered as he flicked his tongue across your clit.

“No, not god,” he corrected with a light slap against your ass.

The feeling of his fingers against your entrance chased away whatever thoughts you had in your head. He pushed two fingers inside, slowly drawing them in and out as his mouth worked at your clit. You were a writhing mess beneath him, tears forming in the corners of your eyes as he brought you closer to your end.

And then the smug bastard stopped and looked up at you. “Do you want to cum, tesorino?”

“Secondo, please,” you whined.

He curved his fingers, pressing against the spot inside you that brought your hips off the bed. “You forget who I am, tesorino,” he said with a grin and withdrew his fingers, making a show of sucking them into his mouth. “If you need something from me, you need to ask for it.”

“Please,” you whispered. You tried to squeeze your legs together to relieve the growing pressure, but he was too strong. He kept you where he wanted you, making you want him, need him that much more. “Baby, please,” you asked again, tears of frustration spilling from your eyes. “Will you please make me cum?”

He clicked his tongue and looked down at you. “What if I say no?”

A pathetic, needy whimper escaped you in response. A sound he smiled at all too happily as he grabbed your hips. You braced yourself, ready for him to return his mouth to your aching core, but he flipped you onto your stomach, tossing you around like it was nothing. He drew his fingers over your cunt, gathering slick as he dipped his fingers back inside you, adding a third this time. He pushed you back to the edge, watching as you grasped for the sheets before sliding his fingers back out. You let out a hollow groan that he quickly shushed and slipped his thick, heavy cock between your folds. You shuddered as his tip caught against your clit again and again before he finally lined himself up and pushed into you.

The stretch of him was something you hoped you’d never get used to, the way he claimed your body with his own. It was everything you needed; he was everything you needed, and you loved him so completely you hoped you’d have the courage to tell him. This was hardly the right time, so you swallowed it back down as he wrapped your hair in his fist. He fucked you hard just like you asked, relentlessly pounding into you as you came apart beneath him. His skilled fingers found your clit, toying with your nerves as you arched back against him. It didn’t take long for him to bring you to your end, grunting as you tensed around him. He pressed soft kisses into your shoulder as you rode out the waves of your orgasm, holding you tight to his chest until your body stopped shaking.

“Are you ok, amore?” he asked, lips ghosting over your neck. He leaned down to whisper into your ear. “Can you take more?”

You mewled and nodded, searching for the words to beg him to keep going. A soft “please” was all you could manage. He pulled out of you slowly, groaning at the feeling as his hands found your hips again and guided you onto your back. He bent down, catching your lips in a hungry kiss that was all tongues and teeth as he pushed back into you. He drew his hips back slowly, the drag of him torturous. He kissed every space of your neck he could reach, all the places that weren’t covered with bandages or marks healing slowly from his previous attacks. He urged your legs around him, thrusting deep into you to find that spot that felt so good you thought you might cry. He pushed against it over and over, his mouth crushing against yours as he fucked you slower than he ever had. His hips stuttered as your breath caught in your throat, that familiar pull building in your stomach.

He looked down, a filthy moan escaping as he watched your bodies connect. He pleaded with you, asking you to look at him, to cum for him as his pace picked up and his fingers dug into your hips. You threw your arms around his neck, bringing him down to press your forehead to his as you let go. He gasped softly, his eyes on yours as his muscles went stiff and he spilled inside you with a loud moan.

He kissed you again, lazily drawing his tongue over yours as you both struggled to catch your breath. He pulled out and rolled onto the bed next to you, draping his arm over your stomach and pulling you close with a tired smile.

“You are, you know,” he said softly.

“What’s that?”

He brought your hand to his chest. “Mio cuore­.”

“You know you’re mine too, right?” you asked, barely fighting back the tears.

“I do, amore. It might be the only thing I’m sure of anymore.”

You turned to bury your face against his chest, mumbling into his skin. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never,” he promised and kissed the top of your head.

Secondo pulled away from you carefully, checking to make sure he didn’t wake you as he climbed out of bed. He had felt restless for days now, an itch under the skin that only seemed to stop as long as he had his hands on you. But now it was no longer working, the worries too immense to bury by proximity to you alone. For the first time in hundreds of years, he had someone else to consider. He was more than happy about it, but he didn’t want you to feel smothered by his new need to be close to you. Especially with everything that had already happened.

He left you to sleep as he padded softly toward the kitchen, surprised by the faint light of the open fridge. He cleared his throat causing Copia to lean around the door and reveal his disheveled state. His hair was a mess, and his shirt was long gone, paints smeared to hell and back as he clutched a juice box in one hand and a block of cheese in the other.

“Buongiorno fratello,” he said in a scratchy tone. “Can’t sleep?”

“That stuff is for my human guests, you decrepit old man,” Secondo grumbled. He moved around Copia to fetch two rocks glasses and a bottle of whiskey from the nearby bar.

Copia shook his head. “I may be new to all of this, but I don’t think you should call your amore a ‘guest.’”

“Shut up and put the cheese back,” he huffed. Twisting the lid from the bottle, he tossed it aside and poured a glass for his youngest brother, setting it in front of him.

Copia returned the cheese to the fridge and closed the door behind him, the faint light disappearing as it snapped shut. He shuffled over, making a face as he sniffed at the amber liquid in the glass. “Eh—”

“Drink it old man.”

“You’re older than me,” Copia reminded him, grimacing as he chased the statement with a taste of whiskey. “Or does the girl make you feel young again?”

“What makes you think we’re going to talk about this?” Secondo groaned.

“What makes you think we won’t? It is nice to see you happy, fratello. It’s been a long time.”

Secondo shrugged and downed his whiskey in one go. “Could say the same for you.”

“Sì, the Countess has made me a very happy man,” he said with a dreamy sigh. “But that does not solve all my problems.”

The older man snorted. “Not enough room in your castle for two collections of capes?”

“She is young, fratello,” he said and clapped Secondo on the shoulder. “You know how new vampires are, hungry, impulsive. She’s fearless and I love her for that, but I also worry. A lot.”

“You and I both know she can take care of herself—”

“Sì, sì, I have no doubts about that, but it doesn’t stop me from worrying. Doesn’t stop me from loving her more than I love myself. It—love—changes you, fratello.”

Secondo said nothing as he poured himself another glass and swallowed it down as quickly as the first.

“Have you heard from Primo?” Copia asked, mercifully changing the subject.

“I couldn’t reach him. I left a message for him, but I don’t know where he is.”

“That’s—”

“It’s not something we need to worry about right now, fratellino.”

The elevator chimed, cutting off their conversation completely. Both men tensed, ready to advance on any intruder who might emerge. Instead, a drunken Terzo spilled out of the elevator, his bowtie and shirt undone with at least three distinct colors of lipstick around his collar and blood around his mouth.

“Uomini,” Terzo hiccupped and tucked a hand against his stomach as he bowed.

“Idiota,” Secondo ground out, rushing across the room to grab the smaller man. “You stupid, selfish bastard—”

“What did I do?” he squeaked, wrestling against Secondo’s hold.

Secondo shook his head and shoved his brother into the wall. “This city is full of vampire hunters, Terzo. You can’t possibly be this stupid.”

“Do I look dead to you?” he snapped back. “No? I look good and you two look like a couple of old, boring cunts.”

Copia sighed and shook his head, completely uninterested in engaging in Terzo’s games. “I’m going back to the Countess. Secondo, do you mind if I borrow that ice pack?” he asked, but didn’t wait for an answer as he fetched the small pack from the freezer. “My back is killing me.”

Terzo grinned widely. “Can’t keep up with your woman, old man?”

Copia narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t know the first thing about satisfying anyone but yourself, stronzo.”

Secondo smacked the back of Terzo’s head, sending him forward several steps. “Everyone go back to bed, for the love of Satan. Do not leave again.”

Terzo huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s fine, stronzo. I wasn’t—”

“Shut up and go to sleep or so help me I will put you out that window,” Secondo snapped, pretending not to hear Terzo’s smartass retort. Instead, he let his tired legs carry him back to the bedroom, back to you.

With every step he began to regret several moments of his long life. Buying this ridiculous penthouse with far too many bedrooms against Mary’s advice. Buying the SUV Mary hated driving. Severing whatever bond he’d had with his brothers while seeking his own independence and letting that same attitude grow enough to keep him from recognizing his feelings for you. Wandering away from you just before dawn in favor of an argument with those same idiot brothers. And being unable to protect you or Mina or Mary from the things that chased monsters like him in the dark. Maybe after all this he could take you away and live someplace quiet like his brothers did.

He was sure now he would do anything it took to keep you safe.

He slipped back between the blankets, pressing himself to you as close as he could manage. It didn’t do much to quiet his racing thoughts, new worries swirling around the old as you stirred just a little. You turned to face him, gracing him with that sleepy smile he used to daydream about. He pressed a kiss against your forehead as you nuzzled against him, seeking the safety and comfort of his touch. He couldn’t say it. He knew it wasn’t the right time after you stopped him before, but he would tell you soon.

The mattress dipped under the weight of your lover returning to the bed once again. He’d been so anxious while you slept, carefully and quietly leaving your side to return moments later. You assumed he was pacing again, taking long strides through the penthouse and back as he checked on the wellbeing of everyone else in the house. You could only hope it helped. You had no more calming words left to give him; you’d used them all on yourself.

But here he was, back by your side again. You were all too happy to shift closer and let him wrap his strong arms around you. When he didn’t, you rolled over hoping to ask if everything was ok. As you opened your eyes, you realized things were far from ok.

You threw a punch, your fist connecting with the intruder’s nose. Your vision was still blurred, bleary eyed from sleep and an extremely dimly lit room, but you could tell Secondo from anyone. And he didn’t wear silk pajamas.

“Oh, Satan’s dick!” Terzo wailed, a rush of dark blood pouring from his presumably broken nose. It spilled through his fingers, droplets soaking into the sheets. “Satanas, why, dolce?”

“What the fuck are you doing?” you screamed back at him, scrambling to get away. You fell over the far edge, your body hitting the floor with a solid thud.

“I was bored!” Terzo howled behind his hands. “There is nothing to do in this ugly grey box!”

“So what? You thought you’d try your luck with your brother’s girlfriend?”

“Satanas, no! One, he would kill me, and I am quite enjoying my eternal life, thank you very much. Two, I’m here to protect you, not take advantage of you—”

You jumped to your feet, frantically looking back and forth. “Why? Where is Secondo?”

“Eh—”

“You want me to break another bone?”

Terzo grinned widely, the blood from his nose now staining his teeth. “I see why he likes you.”

“Start talking,” you growled as you reached for the lamp on the nightstand.

“Ok, ok, ok,” he said quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. “Secondo and the others…left.”

“What?”

“He didn’t want to wake you,” he explained, shaking his head. “The Countess tried to tell him it was a stupid idea, but Secondo doesn’t really listen to anyone. You know how he is. Unless he listens to you. Does he listen to you?”

You sank to the floor. “He just…left? Without saying anything?”

“Maybe he thought it was the only way he could go through with it?”

“Stop. Talking.”

“But how will I tell you about the note?” he asked and produced an envelope from his pocket with a Cheshire grin.

“Terzo,” you started slowly. “Has anyone ever told you how insufferable you are?”

He licked his lips. “What’s that mean?”

“It means even though we just met, I already want to kill you.”

“Take a number,” he said with a shrug. He tossed the note toward you, letting it fall onto the bed. “I’ll give you two some time alone.”

Terzo sauntered out of the room and closed the door behind him, unbothered by the trail of blood he left in his wake.

You fetched the note from the bed and sat cross-legged on the floor. You took a deep breath as you traced over the way Secondo had written your name in his overly elaborate penmanship. It was yet another thing about him that was a product of another time that he still carried around. All the things you’d pushed back, the things you’d left to ask him later were beginning to pile up and now you might never get those answers. You tried so hard not to think of it that way, but the fact was none of you knew who these hunters were or what they truly wanted. It made them dangerous and unpredictable even if your lover was a fucking immortal vampire.

You tore into the envelope, freeing the page inside.

Tesorino,

I am not saying goodbye, because this isn’t truly goodbye. I have lived many unhappy lifetimes alone only to find you in this one. I will come back to you, amore. I will always come back to you.

Tuo cuore, Secondo

PS Be patient with Terzo. He’s an ass, but he will fight for you just as hard as I will.

You felt your heart crack in your chest, a broken sob leaving your lips as you curled up on the floor. You didn’t have many tears left after the last few days, but you shed what you could before you pulled yourself up, determined to let that be the last sense of desperation you felt.

Secondo’s things lined the edges of his closet, still waiting for him in neat rows of black and green. You helped yourself to his wardrobe, dressing yourself like him as you had on Halloween to somehow make yourself feel better, before emerging from the room.

Terzo had dressed himself in the tuxedo again and draped himself lazily across the sofa with a bottle of wine and no apparent worries. He raised an eyebrow as you fiddled with one of Secondo’s watches, the band not suited to your wrist.

“Eh—”

“I don’t have clothes here,” you explained, cutting off whatever smartass thing he was about to say.

“The velvet suits you,” he said with a shrug. “I thought you lived here?”

“He really doesn’t tell you anything, does he?”

“No, but that’s nothing new. He’s always been like that—private. But he didn’t even tell the Countess you were here, so it’s not like my feelings are hurt.”

You managed a nod as you moved into the kitchen, uninterested in learning things about Secondo from Terzo’s perspective before you heard them from the man himself. Armed with a snack, you sat on the opposite end of the sofa, keeping your distance from Terzo and his bare feet. He held out the bottle of wine, offering it to you with a little wave.

“I’m good,” you said quietly.

“You’re sulking in your boyfriend’s clothes.”

“You say that like he went to the fucking store. He’s turning himself over to vampire hunters who apparently have some sort of poison that works on you to hopefully save his familiar and putting the rest of his trust in the Count and Countess to get him out of there. Why are you so fucking calm about this?”

“He also has Alpha and Omega with him.”

“Who the fuck is that?”

“My Ghouls,” Terzo stated simply. “Like I would just show up here empty handed? Please, bambina.”

“Ok, even if I knew what the fuck you were talking about—”

“Ghouls,” he snapped impatiently. “Are beings I summoned from hell to protect me—”

“Is that supposed to make me worry less?”

Terzo sat up and regarded you carefully. “He hasn’t…told you very much, eh?”

You sighed. “We haven’t exactly had time to talk about these things.”

He nodded once, pushing the bottle toward you again. This time you accepted. “What…how can I help? I cannot speak for him, but I do have some answers.”

You took a long pull from the bottle and swallowed hard. “Who are they?”

“Who?” Terzo asked.

“The hunters.”

“Oh, eh.” He shrugged, waving a noncommittal hand through the air.

“Ok, but do they call themselves something?”

“...Hunters?”

“Thanks for being so helpful Terzo!” 

“What the fuck I'm supposed to stop eating them to ask them twenty questions?” he snapped.

“Well maybe there are more of them!”

“There's always more! Just a bunch of poorly dressed stronzos with pointy things. Boring. Who cares?”

“Terzo!”

“What? Bambina, I have lived many, many years. These hunters never worried me before, they will not worry me now.”

“But your brother—”

“Sì, mio fratello is a big, strong man who can take care of himself, always has. Do you think he will not fight harder now that he has someone waiting for him to return? Read a book.”

“How can you be so calm about this?” you screamed.

“What is the alternative?” he screamed back. “You get all worked up and worried and he comes back fine? You kiss and make up. It’s all very simple. Very boring. Why waste the energy?”

“You’re the worst.”

“Why? Because I don’t show my feelings the same way as you? I am here, bambina. Secondo called and I am here sitting with you, keeping you safe. Copia and the Countess came too. You’re not yelling at them for going!”

“But…he might—”

Terzo brought a gloved hand to your face. “No, bambina. No what if. He has you now and he will come back to you. I have never seen him so…eh,” he paused and waved his hand around. “Mittens.”

“Smitten?”

“Sì, sì, smitten. Me? I fall in love every day. Exciting, no? But Secondo?”

“Don’t. Don’t say it.”

He tilted his head. “He has not told you this?”

“That…that’s between me and him, ok?”

He sucked his teeth. “You’re unsure?”

You shook your head. “It’s not that. I know he—he cares about me. It’s just—you’re not who I want to hear it from. No offense.”

“None taken, bambina. But you should trust me when I say he will be back for you, ok?”

“I think we need more wine.”

“That I can help with!” he said happily and jumped up from the sofa.

Secondo parked behind the club, nervously tapping his fingers along the steering wheel as he searched the darkened lot. The place should have been completely empty, but there were a handful of nondescript trucks parked around Mary’s SUV, boxing it in.

“Take a breath, Twos,” The Countess ordered from the speaker phone.

He wasn’t sure where she and Copia had set up to keep an eye on him. The element of surprise was the only thing they really had going for them. He didn’t know how much these hunters knew about him or his family, whether they were expecting them or if they were stupid enough to think he’d come alone.

He hoped they were just cocky and stupid.

“You two all set?” he asked as he unclicked the seatbelt, letting it slide back into its housing.

“Yes,” Copia confirmed. “Eh, fratello?”

“Don’t start,” Secondo warned. “Alpha? Omega?”

“We’re set,” Omega said. “But are you sure we can’t just eat them?”

“Not until everyone is safe.”

“Fine,” Omega agreed.

He ended the call without another word, pocketing his phone before sliding out of the car. It was the first time he’d ever felt wrong approaching Idolatry. The building still sat unlit and empty of patrons, occupied now by who knows how many hunters. They swarmed like plague locusts, crawling over and destroying everything he’d worked so hard to build. Bits of broken glass crunched under his shoes as he made his way into the main stage area. Not a single mirror or light had been left untouched, everything smashed to hell like the hunters had taken bats to every inch of the place. The entire inventory of liquor behind the bar was gone, a rainbow of broken glass now floating atop a disgusting puddle of who-knows-what and a splash of Blue Curacao.

Mary was on the main stage, bound to the pole with a gag in their mouth. Some wretched little shit knelt beside them, shoving them as they spoke and taunting them with a large knife. The kid caught Secondo’s reflection in one of the busted mirrors, a sick grin spreading over his face as he turned to face the vampire.

“Holy shit. You really do paint your face like that? Like all the time?” the kid asked and jumped off the stage.

He couldn’t have been any older than twenty-four. Young. Cocky. Hopefully stupid too. Secondo had no fucking idea who he was.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Hunter.”

“I said who not what—”

“My name is Hunter,” the kid said slowly.

“A hunter named Hunter,” Secondo mumbled back. “Unbelievable.”

“That’s funny coming from a guy who runs around calling himself the Second.”

“Listen, you little shit—”

“Did you forget why we’re here, Mr. Emeritus? I’d be happy to gut your familiar if that reminds you.”

Secondo took a step back. “You can let them go. You have me now.”

Hunter laughed. “Did you really think that would be how this worked out? Neither one of you are going anywhere now.”

“Look, whatever your deal is Mary’s not a part of it.”

“Man, you really do love your little humans,” he said with a chuckle, shaking his head. “The problem here, Mr. Emeritus, is that I can’t use Mary to get what I want anymore—”

“Are you ever going to say what it is you want? Or are you just going to keep going on like a child?”

He shrugged. “You know, if this was my first dance you would probably be very intimidating, so don’t feel bad that it’s not working. But the thing is, you’re not the first vampire to threaten me. My sister and I have been doing this for a very long time.”

Secondo flinched. “Sister?”

A sinister smile crept across Hunter’s face. “You vampires think you’re the only ones who can keep secrets.”

Mary yelled something unintelligible against their gag as Secondo felt a sharp, stinging pain in the back of his arm. He dropped to his knees, the poison working almost instantly to weaken him. He felt a hand grab the collar of his jacket, jerking his head back to see just who had snuck up on him.

“Hey Bone Daddy,” Lucy said with a sneer before stabbing another syringe into his neck.

“Well, that was almost too easy,” Hunter said with a smirk. He hopped up on the stage and cut through the cable tie that held Mary to the pole. “C’mon buddy,” he snapped as he dragged Mary to their feet. “Let’s give these two some privacy, huh? How about we go and have a chat on the roof?”

Secondo watched helplessly as Mary struggled against the hunter. His veins filled with fire, whatever poison they’d discovered painfully burning its way through his system. Lucy knelt in front of him, a sick, satisfied smile on her face.

“Hurts, huh?”

“Fuck you,” he spat.

“No, see that’s what keeps getting you and your brothers in trouble. You keep finding these weak humans to become your pets. It’s kind of gross, honestly.”

“If you’re going to kill me, just kill me,” he groaned.

“Oh, don’t worry. We will. But not until we get what we want.”

“What is it you want? Why are you even doing this?”

She smiled again. “We’re going to destroy your whole family.”

“What?”

“Did you really think we wouldn’t know you’d bring your brothers here? After what you all did at that abbey you should’ve expected this. Did you think we wouldn’t set traps for them the same way we set traps for you? Honestly, Secondo this whole thing was far too easy. I think you’ve all gotten soft in your old age.”

His phone rang inside his pocket, finally shutting the girl up. He couldn’t move to answer it or stop her from fishing it out herself, his body no longer cooperating with his mind. Lucy offered another evil grin before holding the phone up to his face to unlock it, the Countess’ name scrolling across the screen.

“Twos? What the fuck? Where are you?” her voice was frantic, barely audible over Copia’s shouting. “Sec—” she broke off and let out a horrible, piercing scream.

Secondo’s stomach turned as Lucy ended the call, raising an eyebrow. “Oops.”

Terzo yelled something inaudible from Secondo’s closet as you climbed over the sofa to reach for the remote to the stereo. ABBA blared from the speakers surrounding the room, the product of too much wine and the vampire’s “need” to dance. You slipped and drunkenly fell to the floor, spilling an entire glass on the rug as you landed hard.

“What?” you yelled back, knowing he likely couldn’t hear you either. On the other end of the room, the intercom buzzed. The screen next to the elevator lit up, the camera downstairs now displaying a visitor. You squinted at the image but couldn’t make it out from where you were. You fought with the remote, finally silencing the Swedes as you climbed to your feet and crossed the room.

Lucy stood under the camera in the lobby, patiently waiting for a response from the penthouse.

“Hey Lucy,” you said into the intercom. “What are you doing here?”

She looked up at the camera, chewing on her bottom lip. “Bone Daddy said I’d be safe here. Didn’t he call you?”

“I must not have heard it. Come on up,” you said happily and pressed the button to call the elevator.

You wandered back to the kitchen to refill your glass, grabbing one for Lucy in case she wanted to join you. As the elevator chimed to note her arrival, you carried the drinks toward the doors, a silly grin on your face. When they slid open you dropped both, the fragile glass shattering on impact as you brought your hands to your face.

Secondo was slumped against some kid, his face and clothes covered in blood. The kid dropped him at your feet, the vampire unable to move to break his own fall as he and Lucy walked in like they owned the place.

“Lucy? What—”

“Hunter, shut her up,” she barked and grabbed Secondo by the collar, dragging his dead weight through the broken glass.

Hunter moved behind you, grabbing your arm as he forced you to the ground. “Do it,” he said into your ear. “Call for help.”

You shook your head, biting down on your lip to keep quiet. Your resolve lasted only a moment, breaking as soon as he pressed a knife into your skin. You screamed, howling in pain as your skin split under the pressure of the blade. Secondo twitched, trying to pull himself up to stop the kid from cutting into you. He collapsed on the floor again with a heavy thud, Lucy’s laugh ringing evilly in the air as you lost sight of her.

“Bambina,” Terzo sang as he emerged from the bedroom dressed in Secondo’s clothes. He stopped short as he spotted you bleeding in the hunter’s arms. “Who the fuck—AH!”

Tears pricked your eyes as Terzo sank like a stone, the ugly sight of a syringe sticking out of his neck now burned into your memory. Lucy bent down, grabbing a handful of his black hair to pull his head back up.

“You know, I really thought you might put up more of a fight, Terzo Emeritus. I’m almost disappointed,” she said with a click of her tongue.

Terzo grabbed her ankle and pulled, knocking her completely off balance. She fell hard, her face smashing into the floor with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed everywhere as she lifted her head, laughing as she spit out a tooth.

“That’s more like it.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Terzo growled, fighting hard against the poison.

“Oh, I’m Lucy and that’s my brother, Hunter.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

“Not at all, actually,” she confirmed and spat a mouthful of blood on the floor. “Now,” she said and placed her foot on Terzo’s back, forcing him to the floor. “Which one of you wants to tell us where Primo is?”

“Get fucked,” Terzo snapped. “Preferably with a cactus.”

“Primo?” Secondo asked weakly. “That’s what this is about?”

“Oh, I think we have a winner, Terzo.” Lucy left him on the floor and walked back to Secondo. She pulled him into a seated position and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her. “Secondo, where is your brother?”

He shook his head. “Even if I knew, what makes you think I’d tell you?”

“Oh, my stupid little vampire man,” she sighed. “That might have been a possibility before you started fucking your accountant. But now you have a very human girlfriend who I can hurt a lot before she runs out of blood. Honestly, you made this insultingly easy.”

“Don’t,” he begged. “I don’t know where Primo is and hurting her isn’t going to get you an answer.”

“We’ll see.” She settled in front of you and pushed her fingernails into a cut on your arm, a horrible cry erupting from your chest. She clicked her tongue. “What do you think, Secondo? Should I pull out her fingernails or teeth first? I wonder which hurts worse?”

He shook his head wildly. “Please, I don’t know where he is. None of us do.”

“Hmm. That’s really too bad for your girlfriend,” she said with a false sadness, taking the knife from Hunter’s hand.

She pointed the tip just below your collarbone and pushed. A horrible, white-hot pain erupted from the spot, growing as the knife sank deeper into your chest. You couldn’t control the sound you made, an awful, wounded cry that was soon drowned out by Lucy’s own wail. Something warm and wet dripped onto your face, the scent of copper flooding your nostrils. You looked up, trying not to pass out from the pain as Lucy quickly jerked the knife from your chest. She swung the thing wildly, reaching for something beyond you. More blood spilled onto the floor, falling into the rhythm of your heartbeat.

Another vampire stood above you, his mouth and long white hair stained red, hanging over the familiar shape of skeletal paint. He pulled his teeth out of the remains of Hunter’s neck as his headless, lifeless body hit the ground. Lucy was screaming so loud you thought she would break all the windows, stopping only as the older vampire dropped the head of her brother in her lap.

You tried to crawl away, your hands slipping out from under you as they lost traction on the blood. Too weak to push yourself back up, too cold to move, you laid there helplessly trying to make sense of the scene around you. The vampire you didn’t know seemed unconcerned with Lucy’s presence, instead he moved through the room, a blur in your vision as he tended to the others with syringes of his own. Secondo dragged himself toward you as soon as he could manage, pulling you into his lap and asking you questions you didn’t understand. You felt something else hit your face, barely registering that your vampire was crying.

“Tesorino,” he whispered, holding you tight to his chest. “Mi dispiace tanto, amore mio. Ti amo. Ti amo.”

“I love you, too,” you whispered back. “Even if you are the worst.”

He cracked a smile, trying not to laugh. “Really? Now?”

“S’why you love me,” you slurred, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“Of course, it is, tesorino. And why I always will.” He kissed your forehead and tightened his grip even more. “But…I can hear your heart, mio cuore. If I don’t,” he paused to let out a shaky breath. “If I don’t… you’ll…”

“I want,” you tried weakly.

“It’s forever, amore,” he warned quietly.

“It’s forever with you.”

He bit into his wrist and pressed the wound against your lips. Thick, warm blood quickly filled your mouth. It was unlike anything you’d ever tasted. Not that metallic tinge you knew from biting your tongue or busting your lip. It was sweet like honey, as though you could taste how much he loved you, how he carried it with him always, his veins full of you. You drank it down, savoring every drop as he continued to profess his love, whispering adoration into your ear. Your heart stuttered painfully, kicking against your ribcage as it slowed to a stop, your vision going dark.

You woke up cradled in Secondo’s arms, pressed tight against his chest. You were covered in blood, just as you were when you’d passed out in his office all those weeks ago. Only this time, a lot of it was your own. Pain shot down your spine as your heart beat once, twice, and again, stuttering into a steady rhythm to pump a mixture of what was left of your blood with Secondo’s through your now-dead veins. Each wound burned down to a cellular level, your nerves and skin slowly stitching themselves back together to fill in the gaps left by the hunter’s knife.

You groaned, turning against your lover to find a less painful position. No respite was granted no matter how you situated yourself. Your jaw ached; your teeth felt brand new in your mouth, foreign and sore like a filling that needed to be grinded down. Fangs now jutted out of your gums, the edges sharp as any blade.

“Welcome back, tesorino,” he said softly and caressed the side of your face that wasn’t pushing into him. “How do you feel?”

You held onto him, breathing deep with a satisfied moan. Secondo’s cologne filled your nostrils as you rubbed your face against his jacket, the velvet fabric tickling your cheek. “I feel…everything.”

He ran a hand through your hair. “You will probably feel like that for a while, amore. Transition can be…intense.”

You flinched as you closed your eyes, everything too bright. “It kind of…hurts.”

“I know, amore. I’m sorry for that,” he whispered, his lips against your forehead. “But I think I can help you feel better. Would you like to try?”

You nodded as he placed a hand under your chin, tilting your face up so he could place a soft kiss on your lips. You tried to deepen the kiss, but he pulled away and set you against the sofa. His footsteps sounded like thunder in your ears, and you pressed your face into the fabric, trying to dampen it. You found more smells there, the fabric covering the cushions and the padding inside. You could smell the wood that composed the frame, down to the marks burned in by the manufacturers stamp. But there was something else under it, something acrid and familiar that made your stomach growl.

Oh, you’d never been so painfully hungry in your entire life. Even those times when you’d get too busy or simply just forget to eat never felt like this.

You turned your head, blinking hard as you tried to adjust to the light of the room. Secondo dragged Lucy toward you, ignoring her tearful pleas as he dropped her in front of you.

Blood.

You could smell blood.

You looked up at your lover, tracing a finger over your new teeth. He offered you a soft, fond smile.

“You should eat something,” he said as easily as he had when he would deliver those amazing croissants to your desk.

“You mean…?”

He nodded.

A low growl rumbled in your chest as you remembered Lucy’s face grinning happily as she stabbed you.

She tried to struggle, but Secondo placed his foot on her back, pinning her down. You crawled toward her, approaching slowly as you watched your prey. Pitiful, useless tears fell from her eyes as she begged you with words that didn’t make it far enough past your ears to be understood. It surprised you as much as her when your palm connected with her cheek. It surprised you less when your fist connected.

Her lip split against your fist just as Secondo’s had when she hit him. It didn’t make you even. Nothing she said or did could ever make up for trying to kill you, to kill Secondo. To kill his family. He looked on, a flicker of pride behind his eyes as you wrenched Lucy from the floor and dug your teeth deep into her neck. Blood filled your mouth, an odd mixture of bitter and satisfying tastes dancing on your tongue. It was different from Secondo’s; Lucy’s blood wasn’t filled with love for you, but you could somehow taste her life as you drank. Taste it flickering and fading as her heart slowed to a crawl and her whimpers turned to gasping breaths. You dropped her body there on the floor, discarding her as easily as she was willing to do to you. Trading her life for your own.

You closed your eyes, body shuddering as you licked the blood from your teeth.

“How do you feel now, tesorino?” Secondo asked, slightly amused.

A low growl rumbled in your chest as you scrambled across the floor, crawling over Lucy’s dead body to reach him. You grabbed at the waistband of his trousers, not bothering with the fastenings as you ripped the fabric apart. He let out a surprised sound as the seams ripped and fell away, leaving his half-hard cock hanging heavy in front of you.

“You like to watch?” you asked as you took him in your hand, slowly pumping his length.

“Only you,” he said with a grunt, letting his eyes close as his cock fattened up.

“Look at me then,” you commanded, waiting for him to obey. Slowly, his eyes met yours and he struggled to keep them open as you took him in your mouth. His hand shot into your hair, grabbing a fistful as you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock. You pulled off and grinned up at him. “Good boy.”

He let out a filthy moan as you swallowed him back down, working your mouth and hands over him as best as you could. His knees jerked as he hit the back of your throat, the hand in your hair tightening as you pressed your nose into the dark patch of hair at the base of his cock. You looked up at him, batting your lashes as tears formed at the corners of your eyes. You grabbed his hips and forced him down further, an absolutely unholy sound leaving your lover as you worked him over.

“Fuck, tesorino, amore, please,” he begged, stomach muscles tightening as he tried to fight his orgasm.

You hummed around him, granting the man no mercy as the salt of him hit the back of your tongue. He swore loudly as he spilled down your throat, his eyes still lovingly focused on you. His mouth hung open wordlessly as you swallowed his spend and you knew he was memorizing the image of you on your knees for him. He pulled away, his cock slipping from your mouth so he could reach down and pull you to your feet. He kissed you hard, unbothered by the taste of himself.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he whispered against your lips.

“I love you,” you whispered back. “So fucking much.”

He picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder to carry you into the bedroom, completely ignoring the carnage in the living room. He dropped you on the bed, shedding his shirt as he kicked off what was left of his pants. He crawled up your body, fingers quickly ripping the buttons of your borrowed shirt apart. You raised your hips, helping him to pull your bottoms from your body.

You cupped his face, bringing him down to kiss you once again. Your body felt electric, all your nerves sparking where he touched. He pushed your knees apart, settling between your legs as he moved his mouth to your neck. His thumb swiped over your clit as he bit down, placing a new bite over the freshly healed space. Moans left both of you as your blood filled his mouth, his hand still working quickly as he teased his fingers against your entrance.

As he pulled his mouth away, you shoved him onto his back, both of you surprised by your strength. You ground your hips against him, his cock already growing hard again beneath you. You swatted his hands away as he reached for you, pinning his wrists above his head as you bent down and sank your teeth into his neck. He moaned loudly, his hips jerking under you as you sucked at the bite. You moved and bit into the other side, wanting to hear him make that sound again.

“Amore, please,” he whined, lifting his hips again to gain more contact.

You pulled back and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at you. “If you need something from me, you need to ask for it.”

He raised an eyebrow as you repeated his words back to him. “You know I’m going to get you for this.”

“I’m counting on it.”

He swallowed hard. “Please, amore,” he said softly, pretending to struggle against your hold. “I need—oh—”

You rocked yourself over his length before he could finish the thought. Guiding his hands to your hips, you reached between your bodies and lined your entrance against his cock, slowly sinking down until he filled you completely. You threw your head back as you set a slow pace, pressing your hand against his chest to keep him still. You fucked yourself on his thick cock, all kinds of praise and swears falling from your lips as he looked up at you. His pupils were blown wide, eyes filled with a look so full of lust it almost made you cum on its own. That tight band formed in your stomach as you looked down and watched him push into you. He could tell you were close, bringing his thumb to your clit once again to roll over the sensitive spot as you moved a little faster. You chased the feeling until the band snapped and you came with a desperate shout.

He watched you come down, a lazy smile on his face as your body tensed against his. He pulled you down to rest against his chest, softly kissing your cheek as you struggled to catch your breath. He smacked your ass hard before grabbing your hips and thrusting deep into you. You mewled, holding onto him as he fucked up into you hard and fast.

“I told you,” he grunted.

“Harder,” you begged, your nails digging into his arms.

He slammed into you relentlessly, the wet sound of sex almost as loud as the filthy moans leaving both of you. You came again, almost without warning as he panted into your ear, his hand gripped tight around your throat. He followed soon after, a guttural sound rising from his throat as he gritted his teeth and emptied himself into you.

“I fucking love you,” he said desperately and pulled you up to meet his lips in a bruising kiss. “Ti amo, amore mio.”

“Mio cuore,” you hummed against him. “I love you too.”

Everything smelled like fire. The scent was overwhelming, consuming every sense until it was the only thing you knew. You tried to focus, eyes adjusting to the surrounding blaze as you blinked. Smoke stung your eyes as the wind shifted, carrying the smell right over you.

Idolatry was on fire.

Secondo joined you, a hand on the small of your back as a window burst somewhere from the heat. You brought a hand to your mouth, shocked by the sight, shocked by how calm he was. You could make out the figures of Copia and the Countess, silhouetted by flames as they danced to a song only they could hear. There were more forms on the opposite end of the parking lot, shapes you didn’t quite recognize accompanied by another scent you were growing too familiar with.

The smell was growing stronger now, wind whipping and soaking the scent into your hair just as the pools soaked into the parking lot under the piles of bodies.

The smell of blood and death surrounded you as the roof of your former workplace caved in.

Mary lit a cigarette, the flame of the lighter revealing smeared blood and gore all over their face. “Well, shit,” they said with a huff. “What do we do now, Boss?”

Secondo shrugged. “I have insurance.”

“Does it cover acts of murderous vampire hunters?” the older vampire you still hadn’t met asked, swatting bits of sinew from his pants.

“Probably qualifies as arson,” Secondo said with a wave of his hand.

The other vampire reached for your hand, carefully bringing it to his lips as he introduced himself.

“It’s such a shame we had to meet like this, piccolina. I am Primo,” he said and dipped into a bow. “The eldest Emeritus brother.”

“I’m—”

“Oh, I know who you are, piccolina,” he said, casting a glance at his brother. Secondo wrapped an arm around Mary’s shoulder and ushered them away, giving you and Primo space to speak privately.

“I’m sorry. He hasn’t really told me much about you.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. He’s always been a little…secretive. Distant. Protective.”

“And you came to protect him.”

He nodded once. “He is my family. And now so are you.”

“Secondo’s not…in trouble for that, is he?” you asked carefully, remembering what Secondo had told you about Copia and the Countess.

Primo tilted his head and stared down at you. The resemblance was strong even under the paint; the vampires weren’t carbon copies—not in looks or personality—but they all seemed to carry themselves in the same way. Their mannerisms mirrored one another, from the way Primo looked at you now, to the flamboyant gestures of Terzo and Copia. You wondered where they all got it from, who they all got it from. If they would even tell you.

 “He didn’t have much of a choice, did he?” Primo replied with a tap on your nose, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“No, I guess he didn’t.”

“He did his best to give you a choice, piccolina,” he said with a sigh. “Please remember that in the coming weeks. Becoming a vampire is not such an easy thing. But I knew the second he called asking about that recipe that it was only a matter of time.”

“What does that mean?”

Primo shrugged. “Perhaps nothing.”

“I’m not getting any answers out of you, am I?”

He smiled. “I can see why he likes you.”

“You two talking about me?” Secondo asked as he wandered back over. He wrapped his arms around you and grinned at his brother, the paint at the corners of his mouth cracking.

“You’re so full of yourself,” you shot back.

“Act like you don’t like it,” he whispered lowly in your ear.

“Get a room, Twos,” the Countess yelled over the distant sound of sirens. “Ooh, firemen,” she said a little too excitedly, clapping her hands.

“Dolce, you just ate ten men,” Copia reminded her.

“I just like firemen,” she pouted. No one missed the pleased smile that crossed Copia’s face.

“Now who needs a room?” Secondo asked, rolling his eyes. “We should go before they get here. I’m not explaining all these fucking bodies.”

“Hey,” Mary snapped. “They started it.”

“Yeah, what the fuck happened here?” you asked.

“Long story,” Mary, Copia and the Countess said in unison.

You shrugged and turned your attention to Terzo. He’d said nothing since the two of you had arrived, which seemed exceedingly strange given how mouthy he’d been from the moment you met. You wandered over to where he sat, two hulking figures in masks watching over him—his Ghouls.

“It’s fine, boys,” he said softly as they began to growl at you. He patted the cement next to him, offering you a seat. “Ciao, bambina.”

“You ok?”

“Of course! I am always ok,” he said with a fake smile.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Very convincing.”

He looked up and gestured for the Ghouls to step away before turning to you. “I am sorry I failed you today, bambina.”

“What? You didn’t—”

“You died and I did nothing to stop it.”

“That’s not true. You knocked at least two of Lucy’s teeth out.”

He huffed out a laugh and patted your hand. “I’m afraid that was not enough.”

“Terzo, I don’t think this day turned out how any of us planned. But I’m still here and I’m ok.”

“For now,” he scoffed. “This…isn’t an easy life, bambina.”

“Well, why don’t you let me worry about it?”

“If only it worked like that.” He jumped up and walked away quickly, snapping his fingers at the Ghouls. They followed him out of the parking lot and into the night.

“Amore,” Second said softly, settling next to you. “Yes, Terzo has always been that dramatic, but he is very capable of taking care of himself.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry, tesorino. It’s over. We won. And you and I have forever between us now.”

You rested your head on his shoulder. “Are you going to be ok with that?”

“Of course, amore mio. But I’m not looking forward to finding another accountant.”

“Are you firing me?”

He hummed as he turned and caught you in a kiss. “I’d like to think it’s a promotion.”

“For your business that is currently on fire?”

He smiled. “Did you think this was my only club?”

THANK YOU AGAIN for your time and comments and likes and reblogs. I will be back and I'm bringing Terzo with me.

[kabukiaku]

I can do perspective!! totally! anyways, group photo loosely based off my ghost plushies' costumes + secondo cosplay I did.

Have a safe and spooktacular Halloween everyone! 🖤🎃👻💀

[ghostchems]

blood and cookies

written with copia in mind but can be any papa. if you read, let me know which papa you imagined! this idea came to me in the middle of the night. 1.2k words. nothing crazy here except for some bloodsucking :) happy holidays!

Flames crackle in the fireplace, casting shadows on the simple garland draped across the mantel. A single, plain red stocking hangs from one corner - the extent of your Christmas decorations. You zone out in the direction of the display from the kitchen as you remove your oven mitts, placing them on the counter. A chill rolls down your spine despite the warmth of the cookies cooling in front of you, sugar cookies shaped like trees with green and red sprinkles. They're typical Christmas cookies, the only kind you trust yourself to bake.

Recently, you've had a visitor every couple of nights. They aren’t the kind to stick around, showing up because they *needed* something from you. You wonder if your dabbling in the darker arts attracted them— ever since moving here you’ve found yourself attracted to the strange herbs and mushrooms that grow wild in these woods. You've learned to identify them, to harvest them properly, and to learn what they are used for - spells that are meant to give protection and tranquility.

The knowledge feels ancient, like it's been waiting here in the soil for someone like you to discover it. Sometimes you wonder if it was a trap all along but you are enjoying your new hobby. Long winter nights are hard living deep in the forest with your closest neighbor miles away, but you make do with your DIY witchcraft. Sometimes you enjoy the solitude while other times you wished you had someone to share it with. That is, until some of your evenings have been interrupted by a mysterious visitor.

You hear fluttering from the living room and quickly move to scoop some cookies onto a plate. Smoothing out your apron with one hand, you take the plate in the other and head toward the fire.

A figure stands near the fireplace, his one otherworldly white eye glowing in the darkness. Dark wings stretch behind him, their leathery surface creaking as they fold against his back. He is like a living shadow, his form seeming to blur at the edges where the firelight touches him. He's never spoken. You don't even know his name but his visits have become more frequent. At first it was once a month, then every other week, and now he visits at least once a week.

“Good evening,” you say softly, placing the plate of freshly baked cookies on the small table beside your armchair. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafts through the air, mingling with the woodsmoke. His white eye follows your movement, and you notice the slightest tilt of his head — perhaps in curiosity, or appreciation. “Help yourself. I will, uh, get you some warm milk.”

You turn back toward the kitchen, your feet padding quietly across the wooden floor. As you warm the milk on the stovetop, you can't help but wonder if he'll still be there when you return — he sometimes disappears as silently as he arrives. The gentle crackling of the fire and the soft clink of the plate behind you suggest he's staying, at least for now. It doesn’t take long for the milk to warm, and you pour it carefully into your favorite ceramic mug — the one with pale green mushrooms painted all over it, their caps dotting the surface in cheerful reds and purples.

When you return, he's closer to the fireplace and two cookies are missing from the plate with a few crumbs on the table. There’s a sense of relief that he liked them enough to eat more than one. You place the mug of warm milk on the table carefully, having learned he isn’t too fond of sudden movements. That doesn’t stop him from moving with inhuman speed right up to you, causing you to gasp and stumble back a step. His wings unfurl slightly, casting strange shadows on the walls.

"You are hungry," you whisper to him, your eyes scanning his face. You can see more of him now—the white and black paint that clings to his skin. He gives a low rumble in response, coming from deep in his chest. It makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. His eye narrows slightly, the otherworldly glow intensifying for just a moment. You know what comes next.

He crowds close to you, his wings curling around you like a dark embrace. His gloved hand gently tilts your head to the side, exposing your neck. You feel his impossibly cool breath against your skin, causing you to shiver. His other hand pushes the strap of your apron to the side and leans in, lips against your skin. The touch is gentle but cold, like winter frost against your warm flesh.

He kisses your neck. This is new. Usually, he just bites and drinks, a simple transaction of blood for company. But tonight there's something different in the way his lips linger against your skin, the way his hand cradles your head. The gesture is almost tender. You find yourself leaning into his touch, your hands reaching up to steady yourself against his chest. His fangs graze your neck, almost as if asking permission.

"Yes," you whisper, "you may."

His fangs pierce your skin with practiced precision, and you gasp at the sharp sting. All feeling melts away in moments. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket as he drinks deeply, the sound of his satisfied grunts mixed with the crackle of the fire. Through half-lidded eyes, you notice his wing has curled more tightly around you, probably to keep you upright as you grow weak with each deep draw of blood.

Your vision starts to blur at the edges, darkness creeping in. He must sense this and withdraws his fangs, his tongue quickly lapping at the wound to stop the bleeding. His wings move away from you as you sway on your feet, and the last thing you feel is his arms guiding you gently into the armchair as consciousness slips away from you.

You awake with a soft groan, your neck tender where his fangs had pierced. Fingertips drift along the wound as your eyes fall to the fireplace. The fire has died down to glowing embers. Then, your eyes drift to the small table beside you, where only scattered crumbs remain on the plate that once held your Christmas cookies. The ceramic mug sits empty, a smudge of black - like paint or lipstick - marking where his lips had touched the rim.

Despite how weak you feel, there's a sense of contentment. He ate all of the treats you made for him. You smile softly, sinking deeper into the armchair. You wonder when he'll visit again. Maybe next time you'll try another treat, perhaps chocolate chips or snicker doodles. The thought makes you feel warm as you sink deeper into the chair, sleep claiming you. You dream of dark wings and winter nights, of sugar cookies and stolen kisses.

Outside, snow begins to fall covering the forest in a blanket of white. Somewhere in that darkness, a shadow moves between the trees, leaving no footprints.

[kocherga-motyga]

I could show the pictures from my different funny AU in bundles, but I do not know when this bundle will be assembled, so... yeah..

And the inscription was made as a universal joke, yes, I consider song «sway with me» - galxara version true theme of the picture.

[ficandkaboodle]

Secondo dresses up as Pitbull for the Ministry Halloween Party and has the audacity to wear a bald cap because “he’s shaven but Pitbull is bald.” He genuinely does not detect the resemblance and just wanted to have fun

[emeritus-fuckers]

Yandere vampire Papas

This was originally a request, but Tumblr FUCKING HATES ME and keeps publishing shit before it's ready, so I had to delete it. Nihil is written as one character this time because it just makes more sense to me???- Jez

Primo

This might be the one of the very few chances you have to see him in his youth on this blog, since a vampire always looks like they're in they're prime.

Primo would be an unhappy vampire, longing for companionship of someone who wouldn't fear him.

And there you were, a sweet little thing. An adorable creature, one that was fascinated by his garden.

He lured you there every night after you first met, only to have a chance to speak to you.

Would turn you to a vampire if he felt threatened by a potential rival that he couldn't really deal with.

Secondo

Probably the worst thing that can happen to you when it comes to him.

Secondo already has a slight blood kink. It gets worse if he's a vampire.

He's also controlling. He'll use his vampiric abilities to keep you under lock and key, even if he doesn't even need to lock you up. You'll be too scared to leave.

He's got you wrapped around his finger with his abilities and dominating aura.

You'll be very well trained.

Terzo

He absolutely thrives as a vampire. He's dramatic.

He also loves a poor, innocent darling. He loves you so, so much because of that.

He often uses his abilities to subtly scare you and then to comfort you and assure you're safe with him.

He still uses his ghouls to do the dirty work.

He takes small sips of your blood during sex, but he's so good at distracting you with his touches, you don't even realize that's what's making you dizzy, and not him fucking your brains out.

Copia

Copia is still very much an observer, no matter his state.

He watches you sleep, smiling fondly at you.

Touches your hair gently, strokes your cheek lovingly.

He cannot decide on whether he wants to kiss you or drink your blood.

He doesn't make his presence known until he feels like someone's trying to get your attention.

In a typical yandere Copia fashion, he creates a whole scene for your first meeting in order to woo you.

Nihil

Nihil is very eager to make you fall for him however he can. He wants you.

He easily seduces you, using both his natural charm and vampiric abilities.

Your blood is like a drug to him, he can't get enough. He only stops when you actually beg him to stop because you feel weak.

Drinking your blood also makes him incredibly horny, so he ends up fucking you as he sucks your blood.

You're always exhausted after nights with him and need to rest for days.

[theratboyking]

Nocturnal Me (Part 2 to Forever Yours)

Pairing: Papa Emeritus ii/Reader, Vampire!Secondo/Reader

Word count: 4.5K

Summary: Secondo was convinced that the only sanctuary he would ever know was in your embrace. The only grace he would be allowed in this world was with you. He could spend hours here, silently praying to the temple that is your body, hands exploring every nook and cranny, every perfect imperfection he could find. He relished in it, took pride in every shutter, every moan he could manage to get out of you.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Like seriously MDI, violence, Blood, Fluff, LIke major Fluff, sub!reader, dom!Secondo, PnV, Possesive!Secondo, Death

Master list Part One Ao3 Link

“You’re a devil.” The melody of your laugh reaches Secondo’s ears, only spurring his attack on your neck even further. The feather-like kisses tickling you only draw out more of the song. It was a sound Secondo had decided he would never get tired of.

Biting down slightly, sure to leave a mark in its wake, a moan escapes you. You could feel the smug bastard smirk around you from the reaction he was garnering, “I think you love it, La mia stella.”

He pulled away slightly, his mismatched gaze snapped up to look at your face. The milky light of the moon bathed the room in a soft glow. Casting shadows along your face, framing you in such a way that Secondo was almost convinced he had dreamed you. In the months since that fateful night, he had found himself caught in your embrace ever since. He found himself clinging to it like a man lost at sea.

In his many lifetimes, he doesn’t think he had ever been in love. Sure, he has had his share of lovers–a string of broken hearts he has left behind, but none of them compared to you. You had managed to find your way into his cold heart, lifting a weight off of him he had carried for hundreds of years. Secondo almost couldn’t recognize the man he had turned into.

Hell, even his brothers noticed. You had turned him into a sap, as Terzo had so graciously told him one night, Primo chiming in to say how it looked good on him. Copia was the only one to come to his defense, but even he had said how he wore it well. Despite all the teasing, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

He thanked Satan himself for giving him you, his lips once again connecting against yours for what would be the millionth time that night—slowly making his way back down to your neck, determined to get more of the sweet melody out of you. He couldn’t help himself. You simply demand his attention. Letting out a soft chuckle as you weakly protest.

“I’m sleepy, love.” You mumbled, letting out a small moan as his sharp canines brushed against your windpipe. 

“Too tired for me, amore?” He questions, pulling himself from your neck to look into your eyes, “Are you already ready to send me away for the night?” He teases, already knowing the answer. 

 You softly laughed, “How could I ever send you away? If it were up to me, I would keep you forever.” A sigh escaped you as you longingly smiled down at him. He pulled away from you, his eyes practically glowing in the dark room as he stared down at you.

It was quiet for a long moment, your love looking deep in thought. Secondo couldn’t say he hadn’t thought about it. He’s been thinking about it since the first night he found himself in your embrace. The idea of losing you had plagued his mind since that attack. Forever was a long time, but if it's with you, he couldn’t help but long for it.

Just before you could question what was wrong, before Secondo could stop himself, he whispered, “What if you could?”

The question hung heavy in the air. For the first time in a long while, Secondo was scared. What if you said no? But then again, what if you said yes? The rejection scared him, yes, but the fear that you would come to hate him for cursing you with this life scared him even more. Although losing you to the hands of time scared him most of all, it tore him up inside. He looked down at you, eyes wide, and despite his better judgment, held hope behind them.

You stared up at him, a look of shock and uncertainty clouding your features. “What do you mean?”

Swallowing what little saliva was in his mouth, he decided to continue. “You could have it if you want it.” He looked down at you, drawing you closer into his grasp, scared that you would vanish if he let go, “If you asked it of me, I would give you forever.” Despite his fear, there was a touch of hope behind his offer.

You look up at him, the weight of his offer heavy on your mind. It’s not like you would be leaving much behind. You wouldn’t be leaving behind any family; most of them were either dead or had no contact with you. The friends you did have would probably not even notice you were gone. The only thing you had going for you was your job at the station, but even that was starting to run its course.

You had daydreamed about this conversation a million times by now but never really let it past more than that. Sure, you had imagined what a life with him would be like, to find yourself safe in his embrace for the rest of your days. You didn’t want to get your hopes up, scared to get your heart broken. Thinking that, at some point, the love you both had for each other would eventually end.  But here he was offering it to you. Offering you eternity, you could feel your heart swell with more love for the man before you, if that was even possible.

Doubt started to cross Secondo’s mind, and he looked away from you. He was asking too much of you. “I’m sorry, forget I said anyt-...”

“Yes.” You cut him off, no hesitation behind your answer.

“Amore, are you certi-…”

“Yes.” You repeated yourself, more forceful this time. “Of course, silly.” You let out an airy laugh.

He looked at you in wonder, something he could not quite place swelling in his chest. “Forever is a long time, La mia stella.” He whispered, a smile starting to form on his face, one that he only seemed to reserve for you.

“But it’s forever with you.” You caress his face, looking back at him with conviction, trying to convey everything you couldn't find the words to say.

He searched your eyes, looking for any sign of hesitation. He was only met with what he could only describe as love and adoration. He was sure that if his heart could beat, it would have skipped a beat. The distance between you both closes as his lips reach yours once more. Getting lost in each other.

Pulling away, you rest your head on his, trying to catch your breath. He was smiling more than he had in years; it was silently saved for you. Secondo could hear your heart rapidly beating. You didn’t need to say anything, neither did he. There was an understanding between both of you.

“You’re going to have to tell your brothers, my love.” You whisper, letting out a small chuckle.

“I’m sure they’ll be happy about it. They already consider you a part of the family.” 

“Let me rephrase; you’ll have to tell Terzo.”

You feel him tense under you as he lets out a groan. “We could just run away, amore.”

“With you, I would go anywhere.” You pause, “I’m going to have to quit my job, aren’t I?”

“Afraid so.” He looks away for a moment. “There are many things that will have to change, but I will be with you every step of the way.”

“Promise me something?” You bring your hand to his face.

Relaxing into your palm, he returns his gaze to you, “Of course.”

“Promise you will not leave my side.”

His eyes soften then, a small smile making its way to his face, “I have lived many lifetimes, amore mia. I have seen entire empires rise and fall before my very eyes. I have never been really sure of anything, but I do know one thing for sure.  I love you more than the sun loves the moon, more than a bird loves the sky. For as long as you will have me, for as long as you will allow me by your side, that is where I will stay.”

There were tears forming in your eyes. This was the first time he had actually said he loved you. It was always implied in his actions; he never really had to say it, but now that he had, it was almost impossible to keep your emotions at bay. “I love you too.” He pulled you closer in his arms, holding you like you were the most precious treasure in the world. In his arms, you couldn’t help but feel like you were.

 The rest of the night and most of the early morning was spent between two lovers making plans for the future. What to expect, what you would have to do. To say you weren’t scared would be a lie. The whole thing was terrifying, but you were doing it with him. As long as you were in his arms, you could face whatever the world threw at you. Together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You both had decided on a night in June. That would be the day you would end your mortal life in turn for an immortal one. The date couldn’t seem to come fast enough. You missed him, if you were being honest. Your love has been busy getting everything ready for your arrival. To be honest, you were no better, also busy trying to get everything sorted out before you embarked on your immortal life. You had all your affairs in order, had quit your job, and resigned from classes. As far as your friends were aware, you were moving away. Most of your things had either been sold or put into boxes awaiting transfer to Secondo’s place, and the lease on your apartment ended that Monday.

The plan was simple, really. You would meet Secondo at your former apartment. From there, you would go to his place. After you were somewhat settled in, you would begin your immortal life with Secondo by your side.

To say you weren’t at least a little nervous would be an understatement, but there was still excitement behind it. The walk home from your last show was filled with silence. You were positive that whatever went bump in the night could probably hear your heart hammering in your chest. The building seemed to blur together as you hastily made your way back to your former home, excited to finally be reunited with your lover.

As you rounded the corner that led to your apartment, you couldn’t help the smile that formed on your face as you noticed the prominent, shadowy figure standing in front of your doorway. Picking up your pace, you hastily make your way towards him. He looked as if he was dressed up for the occasion. A smile made its way to Secondo’s face when he noticed your presence.

“Are you ready, amore mia?” He questioned, reaching out his hand for you to take.

Nodding your head, taking his hand. “Lead the way, lover boy.” you teased.

The walk to his place was relatively calm, small talk between you both taking up most of the time. Secondo seemed just as excited as you were; he just did better at hiding it. The only thing that gave him away was the small smile that didn’t seem to want to leave his face. The further away from your old apartment you got, the more your excitement grew.

This would be the first time you have ever been to his apartment before. Usually, you and he would spend time at your place, or he would usually sneak into the station and keep you company while you worked. You couldn’t help but let your imagination run wild. Especially as the buildings slowly turned into the more upscale part of town.

Suddenly he stopped, turning into a rather large modern-looking building. You let out a small gasp as you took in the lobby; everything was upscale, a total far cry from what your old building looked like.

“Mr. Emeritus.” The man at the desk tipped his hat toward Secondo as you both passed.

Finally reaching the elevator, you watch as he clicks the button to the top floor– punching in a code finally sends the machine upwards. You held your breath, taking it all in. Despite everything that had happened in the past months, you couldn't help but feel like you were dreaming.

The elevator opened, revealing what you could only assume was his apartment. Ok, maybe you really were dreaming. The room was dark when you entered. Black-out curtains were hung, keeping even the moonlight out. His place was just how you expected it to be. High ceilings and wooden floors only served to cause an echo as you and Secondo walked in. The room was decorated in dark wood with accents of emerald green thrown in. Everything about the room screamed Secondo.

He paused in the doorway, observing you as you took in his living room, “What do you think?”

“I’m not exactly sure what I was expecting from you.” you let out a laugh, “But I believe you have been keeping secrets from me, my love.”

“Whatever could you mean, amore?” He teases, rushing to your side, picking you up bridal style. 

It was hard to make out much else as he carried you off to what you could only assume could be his bedroom. Your laughter mixes together, bouncing off the walls to create a melody that has never been heard before in the flat. He only placed you down when he reached a door at the end of the hall, opening it and allowing you entry.

His bedroom was just as extravagant as the rest of his house. The curtains were drawn, allowing for some light to be cast in. A fireplace sitting on the far wall that looked like a balcony, a small fire crackling with life. A large four-post bed sat in the middle of the room, and a canopy wrapped around shielding the inside–the sheets were a deep emerald color. The whole room screamed luxury.

Taking in the room around you, mouth agape in wonder, you didn’t notice Secondo coming up behind you, pulling you into his chest. Turning you so that you were facing him,  “Are you ready?” He questioned, a reassuring smile gracing his features.

A wave of emotions hits you all at once. It was time. You were going to be giving up your current life for one with him. To say you weren’t a little scared would be a flat-out lie. You were nervous beyond belief, not of giving up your mortal life for an immortal one but rather the process of it. From what you were told, it wasn’t exactly painless…

When you didn’t answer at first, Secondo pulled away slightly, “What’s wrong, mia amata?”

“Nothing is wrong, my love.” You had a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Secondo sighs, taking you into his arms. His grip on you was tight but offered you some sort of comfort. “If you’ve changed your mind, that’s also ok. You’re still more than welcome to move in, and I’ll stay by your side as long as yo-…”

You cut off his rambling, quick to reassure him. “No, no, nothing like that, my love. I’m just nervous, is all. I can’t imagine that this won’t hurt.” You whisper the last part, looking away. 

 “I can’t say it will be pleasant, but I promise to make this as painless as possible.” He looked down at you. Bringing your face so that you were looking at him, his eyes piercing into yours, trying to convey to you that he meant every word he was saying.

“I trust you, Matteo,” You whisper, caressing his face.

Relaxing into your touch, “We can go slow, luce stellare.”

“Just kiss me, please.” You pled with him.

He didn’t need much convincing, closing the distance between you both. Swallowing your small body within his much larger one. The kiss was slow– as much as he trusted you, Secondo couldn’t help but fear that you would change your mind at any given moment. The kiss wasn’t just trying to calm you down but also him.

Deep down, he knew you wouldn’t. He knew you were his for the rest of his eternal life.  Slowly, it started to get more intense, more needy. Guiding you backward til you felt yourself collide with the foot of the bed. Secondo catches you, slowly pushing you down onto the bed. You fall back with a soft umh. You looked up at him. Your hands fly up to pull him to you, lips searching for his in the room's darkness. Your hands find themselves at the base of his shirt, pulling it up. Trying your best to undo the buttons before finally throwing it somewhere in the room.

Yours wasn’t far behind, bra coming undone at an inhuman speed, ripping it from your body in a mess of fabric, “Hey!” you protest, “I liked that one.”

Looking down at you, Secondo couldn’t help but pause–taking you in as if it were the first time. Your eyes were blown wide with lust and love. Chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath. You truly were breathtaking; you made his heart stop every time you allowed him to have you. He couldn’t believe that he got to call you his.

“I’ll get you another one, amore.” His eyes practically glowed as he looked down at you with nothing but love and a hint of mischief. 

 Slowing down, he found his way to your neck. Kissing and biting at your sweet spot, enjoying every sound he could get out of you. Making his way down your body, taking one of your breasts into his mouth, his sharp fangs threatening to break the skin. Letting out a whine, you could feel him form a smirk.

 He knew your body like the back of his hand, knew the exact spots to get you to be absolute putty in his hands. He would take his time tonight, savor everything he possibly could. You had offered him a gift he would never be able to repay, but he would spend the rest of his immortal life trying to repay you for it. He would worship every inch of you, hoping he could convey to you just how much he loved you.

He let out a satisfied hum as he finally reached his destination. Slowly pulling your panties down your legs, exposing you to him. Secondo looks up at you, watching you wither underneath him. Watching as your chest rises and falls, your heartbeat picking up from the anticipation.

“Please. Need you,” You whine, desperate for some sort of release. Finally, he took pity on you, mouth enclosing around your sex. Savoring the sweet cry you let out, enjoying the taste of you. There was nothing quite like you, he was convinced. Letting out a groan of his own.

Your legs were wrapped around his head, keeping him in place. If he needed oxygen, you were convinced he would have suffocated by now. He worked his tongue over the bundle of nerves, sliding his hand down your body until he found your entrance. Groaning as he felt how wet you were, two of his fingers gliding into you with ease, setting a steady pace.

Secondo was convinced that the only sanctuary he would ever know was in your embrace. The only grace he would be allowed in this world was with you. He could spend hours here, silently praying to the temple that is your body, hands exploring every nook and cranny, every perfect imperfection he could find. He relished in it, took pride in every shutter, every moan he could manage to get out of you.

Curling his fingers, he finally reached the spot that would make you see stars, “Fuck” a drawn-out cry leaves you.

You could feel the familiar coil forming in your stomach. You were close, and he knew it. He was doing everything in his power to get you to that point. He knew just what to do, just how to curl his fingers, just how to move his tongue. He knew just what to do to make you see stars and fuck if he wasn't exceptional at it. 

“Cum for me, cara.” He growls, sending vibrations down your spine. Pushing you over the edge.

Letting out a satisfied hum, he finally moves from his spot with a pop. Making his way back up your body, kissing your exposed skin. Finally reaching his mark on your lips, capturing you in a long, heated kiss. His tongue finds dominance over your own. You could taste yourself on his breath, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. The friction on his pants over your naked flesh causes you to shutter. Your hands reach for his belt, fumbling to get his pants off of him. He pulled away from you, only enough to rid himself of the fabrics. His cock springs to attention, hitting his abdomen. Secondo finds his way back to your lips, rutting against you.

 “Are you ready, tesoro?” Secondo asks, sliding his cock over your folds, coating himself in your juices. Hitting your overstimulated clit a couple of times for good measure.

“No more teasing.” You plead, “Need you.”

“Making demands, are we?” he tuts, an evil smile forming, pushing the tip at your entrance. “Who am I to deny anything that la mia principessa wants.”

With that, he slammed into you. Crying out, mouth hung wide open, eyes rolling back in your head. Secondo looked down at you, his eyes practically glowing, taking you in. Giving you a moment to adjust to his size. This was a sight he never got tired of, seeing you cock drunk and wanting more. He couldn’t want to no longer need to hold back, to give you everything he had. Slowly, he pulled out before plugging back in, setting a steady pace.

He simply adores seeing you like this. The way your mouth hung open as needy whines left your sweet lips. The way your tits bounce oh so delicately as he pistons into you. The pleasant burn of your nails clawing at his back as you hold on for dear life. You grip onto him like he is the only thing in the world keeping you from floating away.

He brings one of his arms from caging you in favor of playing with your tits. Pinching and pulling at your nipples. The other he brings to your hips, pulling you forward to meet his thrusts.

“Fuck.” Your voice trembled as he hit just the right spot.

“Just like that, cara mia. So good.” It was a low rumble in his chest, “Always so good for me.”   He was picking up speed, driving his point home. He brings his hand forward, closing around your throat.

He growls as you tighten around him. You were close and he could tell. It only served to spur him on, determined to get you to cum again, to make you forget all your worries, just to focus on the pleasure that only he could bring you. You belonged with him; his heart was yours and would be forever more.

“Who do you belong to?” His grip on you tightened

“I’m yours, S-secondo. Fuck.”

“That’s right, and after tonight, you’ll be mine forever.” He growled, slowing his thrust ever so slightly, “You want that, don't you, Amore mia?”

All you could do was nod your head, so close to falling over the edge.

“Words, amore, I need your words,” Secondo commanded.

“Yes, my heart is yours, my love.”

“Good girl.” His motions were starting to stutter. “I’m close stella. I can feel you are as well. Cum for me, please, cum all over my cock.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, cumming with a shout, holding him in a vice grip. Secondo was not far behind you, giving a few more powerful thrusts before spilling his load out inside you. He stayed like that for a long moment, allowing you to catch your breath. The only sound that filled the room was labored breathing. Secondo only looked on, watching you, his emotions hitting a high, and he knew he could no longer wait.

“Stella, I need you to tell me this is what you want.” Secondo pants, shuttering from the feeling of you wrapped around his cock. “This is what you want, SÌ?”

“Yes,” You whisper, “I’m ready, my love.”

With a growl, he pulled out–teeth lodging themselves in your neck. He showed little restain as he lapped up your sweetness. Letting out a gasp, you could feel the life leaving you as he drank from you. Your limbs going lip and your eyes going heavy. You didn’t even feel him pull away.

“Drink.” He commanded, bringing his exposed wrist to your lips.

With the little life you had left, hesitating, you drink from him. The warm liquid dripping down your throat tasted of iron at first; slowly, it came to life, dancing across your taste buds, becoming the sweetest thing you have ever tasted in your life. You could feel your strength coming back to you. Gripping onto him like he was your lifeline.

  “Amore, slow down.” He breathes out, a grimace making its way onto his face, “Amore, stop.” Your grip on him only tightened, “Enough.” He breaks free.

From your place on the bed, you convolve. You expected the pain; in fact, that was the first thing he warned you about, but this was excruciating. It felt as if every cell in your body was combusting into flame. You were dying and being reborn all at once. You almost could comprehend it. Letting out a scream, all Secondo could do was sit there helplessly as the transformation overtook him.

Suddenly, you stopped all movement; Secondo could do nothing but look on. Worry started to overtake him. What if it didn't take? What would he do without you if it didn't work?

“Amore?” Worry was evident in his voice as he could do nothing but look at your lifeless form, only relaxing slightly as your eyes flew open with a gasp.

Slowly, you sit up, letting out a groan as you look around. The whole room was impossibly bright; everything was loud. Everything was too much. It was hard to focus on much of anything except the burning need to feed that was developing in you. There was a burning feeling in your stomach. You were hungry. More hungry than you had ever been in your life.

Turning your head so that you were facing your love, “I want some more.” You flash him a smile, your newly formed fangs on full display.

A fond smile makes its way to his face as he reaches out his hand for you to take, “That I can help with, amora mia”

Looking at him for a moment, you blink, focusing in on him. Your smile only widens.

You take his hand.

Translations:

La mia stella- My star

Amore- Love

luce stellare- Starlight

Tesoro- Treasure

la mia principessa- My princess

Stella- Star

mia amata- my beloved

[switchplate-2]

I don't care what anyone else says...

There's something so...invigorating...about a possessive growl in your ear. It definitely gets a reaction. Add a hand to the throat and...that's all she wrote!

[writingjourney]

WELL @fishwithtitz IF YOU ASK ME LIKE THAT 👀

This fic will be a follow-up to my Vampire Primo fic Friday Nights at the Cinema Club. You don't have to read that one necessarily but it also doesn't hurt. Hopefully this will be the last preview before it's fully done soon 👀

Friday Nights at the Vinothek | Vampire!Secondo x gn!reader PREVIEW

It is a subtle art to manipulate the taste of blood. You have to feed your prey the right flavours of food and pour the perfect drinks down their throats to influence the aroma in just the right ways. Too much alcohol and the blood is ruined, too much sugar and it tastes like cheap supermarket wine. Secondo has refined his approach over the past centuries to match his personal preferences.

“Grappa,” he says, pushing the thin-stemmed glass in front of you. “A young one.”

You sway the glass underneath your nose, inhaling the sharp scent. There is not much you could deduce from the smell, not with your human senses, but he appreciates how you always try to use them regardless of how futile the results.

“It is distilled of the pomace after the winemaking,” he explains as he watches you nip. “Nothing goes to waste.”

You smile. “That is a very progressive view.”

“I think it is a very conservative view. Traditional, if you will.” He raises his brows, waiting for your reaction. “Do you like it?”

“It’s nice, it burns in all the good ways.”

“It used to be the drink of farmers,” he explains, filling your glass again. “Until technology progressed in the last century. The taste improved a lot, now it is very popular. I learned how to make it in Northern Italy not too long ago.”

“Were you always a winemaker?”

“No.” He does not elaborate, though his brow furrows in what you can only assume is the ghost of distant memories. The flicker is gone as fast as it came. “Come here, grappolino.”

You do, walking over to where he is sitting … He grabs your hand with his gloved one, the back facing upwards before he takes some of the grappa and spreads it on your skin.

“Go on,” he says. “Take in the aroma.”

The scent that hits your nose is pleasant, much more pleasant than the taste. When you are done, looking back at him, he reaches out for your hand and brings it to his own nose, holding your gaze. His lips graze your skin when he sniffs and you think you’re about to combust, your whole body tingling nervously at the unexpected touch.

“Impurities show in the smell,” Secondo explains, remaining unfazed. “Of course, this one does not have any. It is perfect.”

“Of course,” you repeat and when he looks at you with his intense discoloured eyes, you’re not sure if he meant the grappa “So… is that true for humans as well?”

His brows rise, a smile tugging at his lips as he nuzzles your hand. “Hm, I don’t smell any impurities in you.” A pause in which you stare at each other, unmoving, unblinking. “Unless they are…” His hand slides up your arm, agonisingly slow. Fingers sprawl out on your cheek, cradling your face before he taps his index finger against your temple. “In here.”

“I can’t say my thoughts are very pure when I’m around you, no.”

⛧ ✦ ⛧

BTW if you would like to be tagged in this story, you can DM me or comment under this post! ♡

Fighting the urge to post every single new Vampire Secondo scene I'm writing as a preview so I don't already spoil the best bits 👊🏼👊🏼👊🏼

[kabukiaku]

random ink drawings from my sketchbook + omega centric page cause he's my pookie Ω

[belladonna-dusk-writer]

ITS FINALLY HERE!!

I have just posted the first few chapters of my story, Object of Desire! I’ve been working on this story since February and finally have a cohesive storyline. This is going to be the first story of many in my line of novellas around the band Ghost! I’m so very excited to be starting this journey and am looking forward to those who will join!

Please, if you have any constructive criticism, positive feedback, basic advice, knowledge, and suggestions, send them my way! I’m always looking to improve my writing and would love to do so through the community.

As always, Elizabeth Stonewell