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Vampire by ~XMenouX |
The milky flesh was what had incited him, the same pale complexion as his. But he knew her flesh would not be as cold to the touch as his was.
Under flowing black hair and the dazzling smile shot his way was a pulse, steady and loud from across the room.
How he wanted to dig his fangs into her.
The slope of her neck beckoned him and he licked his lips, dry and thirsty for another meal. His eyes trailed after her as she swayed with the music, arms that could so easily snap under his grip, circled around another neck belonging to a male. From a distance she looked fragile because she was fragile, because she was human.
Her eyes caught his again, a mischievous light lingering in her gaze every time she glanced his way. He briefly allowed a smile to grace his features and had to bite back the twisted smirk that wanted to replace it in the wake of her fluttering eyelashes and licking of full lips.
She was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful with her green eyes that reminded him of emerald rings and evergreen trees. The song ended and so did her dance with the man he didn't even bother to glance at. He only had eyes for her and the silhouette of her black lace dress. Finally, after a brief moment of hesitation, her long legs lead her to him.
The trap had been set off.
He greeted her with his most charming smile, persuading her to drop her guard. She did. She fluttered her long black eyelashes, eyes peering at him through long bangs. She was divine. The smell of her blood lured him to a place, one that he visited every time a human was in his proximity, so close to him that he could smell the vulnerability off of them. He struggled to keep the smile on his face but managed to do so, paying avid attention to the words that slipped off the nameless girl's tongue.
She had blushed when he chuckled at her failed attempt at humor, which she admitted immediately once she got the punch line wrong. Her cheeks, now dusted a cotton candy pink, were smooth to the touch, his knuckles briefly passing over them as they flirted. He threw a couple of carefully phrased words that he had used over the centuries that rarely ever failed him. She had swooned and he shook his head, wondering why every time he went out for a meal, he expected something different. Humans were suppose to be unpredictable creatures, but the strategy he had been using for decades upon decades since he had been turned and even before that, were still causing girls to drop into his awaiting arms.
He smiled at her again when she asked him why he was shaking his head and replied with a smooth "I was wondering why out of all the guys, a beautiful girl like you, would choose to talk to me." The stuttering was cute but he enjoyed the screams that would fall from her lips far more than her empty words. He grabbed her by the hand and led her outside, his grip firm yet gentle, making sure not to snap her wrist.
He wanted to eat her.
He wanted to consume her soul but he would have to settle for her blood. He sat her down on the ledge of a fountain, a smile still in place while they chatted. She kept fluttering her eyelashes and nodding her head, curls bouncing on and off her shoulders. Slowly, he brought her closer to him, his body rigid as he fought the urge to just dig into her. All he wanted was a taste. A small drop of blood was all he needed. That was a lie and he knew it. He bypassed her lips at the last moment and kissed her cheek, still the same pink coloring as before.
"Can we... can we go somewhere private?" Her words were barely above a whisper. He smirked.
"Sure."
He led her away from the party and into the blanket of stars and blackness.
They walked through the door, a dainty arm hanging on to his. She was tripping over her own feet, pulling onto him for support, almost dragging him to the floor if not for his supernatural strength. She clearly had one drink too many.
She was a fit of giggles, hands clawing at his flesh through a tailored long sleeved blazer. They walked through the kitchen, where a bottle of champagne awaited in a bucket of melted ice, which he quickly grabbed. He sat the bottle down next to the bed, water dripping from the glass bottle and onto the painted black side table. She fell onto the bed, a flimsy body with her straps down her shoulders and a flirty smile on her lips.
Another fit of giggles flowed out of her as his lips trailed over smooth flesh.
Her blood was calling him.
She moaned, loud and needy in his ear, fingers scraping over his clothed back. Her back arched and her chest brushed against his. A smirk graced his lips and he opened his mouth wide, a tongue peeking out to lick at an exposed neck. One hand brushed over the curve of her breast and landed on her left side, his other hand supporting her head.
With a kiss and a suppressed groan, his mouth opened again and his canines elongated. Just a taste... just one drop to quench his thirst. His lips inched closer, a hand caressing her side and causing her to shudder in his grip.
Just one more inch...
"Yo silver!"
His eyes snapped to the side, to the source of the unwanted voice and he growled. The girl underneath him flinched and without thinking, his jaw snapped down on her neck. Her pulse raced and her back arched in a way inhumanly possible. He would have smirked at the way her hands clawed the sheets if not for the gulping down of a liquid form of an orgasm.
He didn't even get to enjoy the sense of euphoria her dying caused him.
"Ah, and here I wanted to get a taste," the body underneath his twitched and spasm. His fangs retracted, the body falling limp onto the mattress.
"What do you want Damien?" The figure crouching on the window frame dropped to the tiled floor.
"What? I can't drop in on an old friend?"
"No."
"Chase, I'm appalled by your treatment of my person." Chase snorted, still draped over the corpse, cold and pale, just like him. Her eyes were still a beautiful shade of green, though now it was darker and reminded him of uncut grass and headless tulips.
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Green Eyes by ~korde |
"How did she taste?"
Chase didn't even spare the man a glance. "Like any other bag of flesh and bones filled with blood."
Damien smirked, "Lovely."
Chase turned his head, icy blue eyes looking into equally cold black orbs. Chase did not return Damien's smirk, in fact, it only caused his frown to deepen.
"Again, I ask, why are you here?" he emphasized every word, wanting nothing more than the man in front of him, dressed in a white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and untucked, to magically combust into flames and ashes.
Damien's smirk only grew at the question, long elegant fingers flicking invisible lint off his shirt.
"Oh, like I said, I was-"
"Cut the crap Damien. We both know you don't just drop in for social calls," Chase growled, a pale hand brushing through his silver mane.
"You know me so well," Damien purred, his hands loosening the tie around his neck. Chase rolled his eyes and sighed deeply, getting off the bed and walking towards the bathroom.
"You know, she sure was pretty. If you hadn't milked her dry, you could have turned her."
Chase growled, running the sink and letting the water wash away the blood that stained his hands red, a stark contrast against snow white skin.
"You know that I don't want to turn anyone!"
"Yeah, at least not after last century's fiasco. But seriously, you could have turned her, at least as a favor for me." Damien plopped down onto the occupied bed, his hand gripping onto the cadaver's limp arm and moving it.
"And why, pray tell, would I do you a favor?" Chase walked back in to the room, an aggravated sigh escaping him at the sight of his associate playing with the corpse.
"What was her name?" The question caught him off guard and his surprised expression caused a laugh to erupt from Damien.
"I don't know." Chase looked at the body and took in the blue chapped lips, the closed eyelids hiding hollow eyes and the blood soaked dress. He looked away. Damien noticed and he smirked.
"Still feeling guilty after all this time, huh Chase?" Chase growled, once again imagining that Damien was a pile of ash.
"I wonder about what you're really guilty about. The fact that you killed a nameless girl in a cheap motel or the fact that the last time you got carried away, everything and I do mean everything, blew up in your face?"
"Shut up."
"No, I don't think I will. This time I won't shush up. Remember Chase, you're not my maker and I do not abide by your rules."
"Shut up about that maker crap!" Chase's arm hit the lamp and the room was shrouded in black. Damien's eyes pierced through the darkness and Chase wished he would just leave.
"Why should I Chase? Because you still regret what you did? Because the last time you created a vampire, she went crazy and painted the town red before being shot in the head? Huh Chase?" Chase looked away, his bangs concealing his eyes.
"Chase, when will you get it through your head that our immortality ends when we get killed? She went rogue. She took the easy way out and decided to give in to her thirst for blood instead of trying to control it. It happens."
"No it doesn't!" Chase head snapped up, his face twisted up, but Damien did not relent on his verbal assault.
"Yes it does Chase. She had a choice, a choice that you gave her and tried your best to help her make. You gave her all the strategies you ever used to prevent yourself from slaughtering your entire neighborhood. Get it through your head. She's dead. Olivia is dead."
The silence that ensued was painful and rung in Chase ears.
"I know," was all he whispered before striding across the room and grabbing the forgotten bottle on the side table. He opened it and took a long swing. Damien just watched, the body on the bed ignored and the moon shining down through the open window.
His lips were begging for crimson
Damien had disposed of the body. He never even got to know her name, just another nameless girl with a pretty face to add to his long list of victims. He had learned long ago to not starve himself and suck up the guilt that came with feeding on the weak and unsuspecting. Apparently he did a shitty job at the latter for he was still up, thinking about emerald rings and evergreen trees. She was just another meal, a girl who fell into his trap like a mouse. So why was he so guilt ridden? Why did he still care after all this time?
He really wished his feelings would have died with his heart.
Damien had been kind enough to close the window and curtains. Damien had also been kind enough to leave a bottle of wine. If he was still human, he would have been thanking his associate. But he hadn't been human for a long time and he couldn't get drunk off of champagne or wine. He wished he could still get drunk off those things. Damien was mocking him. The note that accompanied the wine proved it.
"Too bad not even wine or the strongest whiskey or vodkacan make you forgetthe green of her eyes or the beating of her slowing heartnor the taste of the rich red substance thatcauses the undead's mouth to waterNow a toast to another meal and the loss of a human life. Cheers!"
Damien was a certified asshole. An asshole, that if not already dead, would have been killed the next time he saw him. Too bad someone already had the chance to do so.
Instead of opening up the bottle, he went straight to the bathroom. He needed to get on with his life. Chase glared at his reflection, blue eyes as icy as ever and palms as pale as ever, yet to him, they were still painted the scarlet red from the night before. The night he had killed that girl whose blood tasted like nectar; like fireworks exploding off in his mouth. Her blood was the fix that he needed and though he felt guilty for forcing her to be the donor to give him his fix, as if he were a drug addict, he didn't regret the smell of fear or the gasp of realization. He opened his mouth and noted that his teeth were still stained red, as were his lips, though he did not know if it was due to the lipstick or her blood.
He licked his lips. Yep, blood it was.
Her name was Emalina Origa, the daughter of the town's doctor and midwife. Yes, the town still had a midwife after all these years. According to the news, she had been missing since the night before and was last seen at the charity event, at midnight, dancing and flirting.
No mentions of him. Good.
The television was turned off and he dropped onto the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight.
He was hungry again.
Well, that was odd. Not too odd, seeing as he needed a fix once or twice a week at the least, but usually a couple of days would have passed before the next craving kicked in.
He needed more blood. Maybe he could settle for a maid but then again, Damien wouldn't be back until the sun had gone down and he had yet to master the art of disposing of leftovers. Maybe Damien would be so kind as to let him get a taste of his blood. Then again, maybe not. Damien had yet to forgive him from the last time he tried that.
Chase flinched at the memory of a broken bed and suppressed the flashes of naked flesh and blood trails from deep nail marks. Yep, feeding off another vampire was out of the question. He called in room service and waited on the bed. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath - though there was no need to - and let himself be lured to sleep.
A knock had awoken him less than ten minutes later. It wasn't the food as expected, but a lovely women dressed in bright red and neon pink. He flinched.
"I see your taste in clothing is still as tasteless as ever." The women before him smiled, her red lips stretched out and exposing pearly white teeth.
"And you're still as rude as ever. Can I come in?"
"Of course not Amanda," Chase moved to the side to let her through.
"Good boy," she mocked, clutching her purse and throwing him a smile.
"You sure know how to liven up a space Chase, I can still smell the dry blood and cheap wine." She scoffed, eyes trailing over the furniture and wooden floors with pressed lips.
"Sarcastic as ever I see. How did you find out I was staying here?"
"Damien."
"Of course. When is it not Damien?" Amanda laughed, a finger pushing a stray hair away from her vision and tucking it behind an ear.
"I am his maker after all. He answers to me and he knows better than to lie. I use to be a cop you know." Chase rolled his eyes.
"Yes, I know. You always remind me every time we meet. Not to mention, you never fail to add that you were a torturess for the Queen and King of Spain and the lovely detective who use to be a killer on the side." Amanda smiled, blond hair thrown over her shoulder and the smile on her face looking less strained than when she originally walked in.
"Such good memory you have Chase, must come in handy." Chase nodded, eyes avoiding her gaze.
Sometimes he wished his memory wasn't as good. Then again, even if it wasn't, Damien would still be there to remind him everyday of his failures.
"So when's my baby coming back?"
"Amanda, your 'baby' is about half your age." Amanda snorted, a hand making a dismissing motion.
"I turned him so he'll always be my baby." Chase rolled his eyes.
"Though I don't mind your dropping by, I would like to know your reason for such an unsuspecting visit," his words were carefully chosen, knowing Amanda's temperament. He couldn't afford to ruffle her sensitive feathers.
"You're such a liar. I know you don't want me here Chase. But I needed to inform you of some very, very, bad news." She took a seat on the corner of the bed, the pink dress wrinkles being carefully smoothed out by her unoccupied hand. Chase moved closer to her, arms crossed and body tense. He should have known better; Amanda didn't just suddenly stop by like his friend or for a simple social call.
Amanda looked up and kept staring, not saying a word, red nails digging into the leather of her purse. With a defeated sigh, she muttered words too low for humans to hear but Chase's superior hearing caught it.
Olivia was still 'alive'.
His soul needed to be forgiven
A moment of silence lapsed between them, tense and unwanted. Damien put the bag on the side table, tapping on the wood with impatience and an arched eyebrow.
"Yo Chase? Hello? Is there anyone in there?" Chase had yet to move. Moving his hands in front of Chase face and getting no reaction, Damien put his hands on cold cheeks. He drew his own face closer to blue eyes snapped toward him, Chase quickly pushing the taller body away from his own.
"What the hell Damien?!" Chase shouted, eyes wide and arms used to pull him further onto the bed and away from Damien's hunched figure. Damien pouted in return, muttering things too low for Chase to catch.
"You didn't complain last time," Damien said, louder so he could hear. He crossed his arms when Chase had looked away, his teeth biting down on blood stained lips. Damien's eyebrow arched further.
"Did you feed today?" Chase nodded, eyes still not meeting his.
"On who?"
After a moment of silence, "Amanda brought me a veil filled with blood. It was enough to quench my hunger." Damien raised both eyebrows before they dipped down to form a frown.
"Amanda? What did she want with you?"
Chase shrugged. Damien snapped at him.
"Chase, I don't know what the hell is going on and I want to know this very instance!" Chase flinched, closing his eyes and refusing to look at the man before him.
"It's nothing."
"Of course, because Amanda just drops in for no reason. Do you take me for a fool? You know that out of everyone, I know her the best. Now stop playing this game and fuss up."
Chase sighed, running his hand through his silver locks and causing the ponytail to become undone. He took the moment to gather his thoughts as he put his hair back in its tie. He knew Damien's patience was running out because he had the same temperament as his maker.
Damien threw him down onto the mattress and his eyes opened in shock.
"Dam-"
"Shut up." The growl was unexpected and so was the hand around his neck. They both knew there was no point since they were already mostly dead but the meaning behind the action didn't elude Chase attention. He bit his lip harder and let his hands cover Damien's.
"Olivia's alive Damien. She's alive and still as rogue as ever." Damien got off, his eyes wide open and his mouth dropping and snapping close for several seconds.
"That can't be. I saw her - we saw her - get shot... right between the eyes. That's not possible. Amanda must be wrong."
Chase gulped and wished he had another bottle of whiskey. "I wish she were Dam. I wish she were, but Amanda is thorough and checked out the story of her source. Patrica had claimed to have caught a photo of her and she showed it to me," he pulled out a worn out photograph and Damien had to smooth out the wrinkles. The photo was out of focus but the haunting green eyes stood out among the masses of faceless humans.
Olivia was alive.
"The photo was taken less than a month ago in this very town." Chase took the photograph back and turned it in his hands so he could look at it. Damien watched him, knowing full well what all this meant.
"We have to get out of here." As expected, Chase head had snapped up, despair evident in his eyes.
"No! This is my chance-"
"Chance to what Chase? To apologize? To ask for forgiveness for something that was not your fault? She's still as rogue as ever. She turned her back on us and tried to get us killed and knowing her, she'll try it again."
Damien's expression was grim as he watched Chase expression morph to the familiar guilt ridden one that he had witness over the decades.
"We're leaving."
Chase watched, eyes showing the storm raging inside of him, as Damien packed his things. It wasn't much seeing as he traveled light, but it was enough to help the situation seem more real. Olivia was back and there was nothing he could do about it. All he wanted to do was catch another glimpse of her face and kiss the corners of her lips. But he knew their meeting would not have gone as smooth or as friendly. Damien was right, as always. Olivia would still be out for his blood.
He was still on the bed when Damien had finished and a bag was thrown towards him. He didn't want to leave the cheap motel but they had to. Because Damien said so.
He was hungry again.
"What's in the brown bag?" Damien shrugged and motioned to the door with his head.
"Damien," he pressed. The man just smiled, a rare thing that sent chills up his spine.
"Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Now come on, I have a place set up just outside of New York
City. It's only a few days travel by boat or a couple of hours by plane."
"Boat?" Damien smiled and opened the door. It was time to go.
His eyes ached to meet the emerald green of jewels
Chase flinched, closing one eye as the other was used to stare at his associate and for a moment, Damien looked unfamiliar. His eyebrows were knitted together to form a frown, his eyes were hard and his fangs were exposed and his lips up in a sneer. He looked unreal - so far away - and that caused Chase to gasp, to grab on to the wrist and use it to pull Damien closer. Damien's expression soften for a moment, but just as quickly as it came, it morphed back to the one that had previously graced his youthful features.
"Let her go," he whispered harshly, resting his chin on top of Chase's head. Chase felt him breathing in his scent but remained silent.
"I can't," he whispered back, grabbing on to tense arms and burying his face in Damien's shirt.
"You can but you won't." He could hear the hurt and his mouth opened and closed, at a loss for words. He could let go of Olivia, that Damien had right. But it was not as easy as the other man perceived. He was the one who created the walking monster that was Olivia, he had been the one that gave in to her pleas of not wanting to die and gave her immortality. He was at fault for the slaughter that she had participated in and all he wanted was to make things right. He didn't know as of yet how he would, but it just had to be done, no matter what.
He had hoped Damien understood but he knew the truth: Damien would never understand. His vision was still clouded by the anger he felt at the woman: for killing his lover and for harming those he cared about. Amanda, though physically she was fine, was still recovering from the mental scars that event had left her with.
He turned his head and took in the bodies that littered the area, not seeing their faces but the blood their flesh covered. All he could see was their pulse and beating heart. He wanted to sink his fangs into their throat and cause their hearts to slow down till it couldn't beat no more. He wanted to rip their flesh off their bones and lick off the blood that cling to their skin.
He wanted them to feel the pain he couldn't express.
Instead, he backed away from the other vampire and made his way to his temporary suite on the ship. He needed some time alone; to think; to get away from the impending disaster that was to come if Olivia ever caught up to him.
He was hungry.
He pushed the craving for human flesh down and shoved the door open to room 332A. The space was small but what did he expect from a ship expected to hold over five thousand people? He looked through the window and a sour smile bloomed. How he wished to be like the birds that flew over the ocean. His aged bones ached to be able to fly high in the sky, the wind underneath his wings and his troubles falling further and further away from his being. But he was not a bird and his troubles never disappeared, only accumulated with each day that passed. That was one of the many curses that came with being immortal; with being undead.
He was hungry.
He lay down on the bed and turned towards the white wall, ignoring the scent that only belonged to one man: Damien. They had shared the bed the night before for no good reason not so ever. They just did cause they could. They did it because Chase needed someone, needed to be held in order not to break apart.
But now, alone in his bed with only his memories, he was finally coming undone.
The first drop of blood fell, followed by another one and another one. The tears just wouldn't stop. All the time he avoided crying had finally caught up to him. All of the years spent trying to avoid the truth had failed because everyday he looked himself in the mirror and saw the same failures as ever. He laughed bitterly into the pillow, blood staining the white and hands ripping into cloth.
He might as well as tattooed with every mistake he ever made as they were carved into his mind and soul already. Even if he managed to jump out of his skin like he imagined so many times, his soul would be tainted with ink, spelling out the very things he wanted to escape.
He was thinking too much.
Damien had always mentioned that to him, telling him to "slow down his brain" and just relax. His friend would then massage his shoulders, telling him to ease up on the stressing of the small stuff. But did he ever listen? No, because Damien was always saying the same thing, his words going through one ear and out the other. He wondered if Damien would ever get tired of repeating himself.
He shook his head, silver locks sticking to wet flesh and mingling with the red of his blood. He needed a drink. It was funny how, even when undead, he would still nurse a bottle of alcohol in times of crisis.
If he was still human the alcohol from a bottle would be enough to get him drunk and forget about green eyes and blood stained walls. He wondered why, no matter how old he got, his memories never faded entirely like they should. His mortality refused todeteriorate and instead clung to his flesh like a shadow. He hated his humanity, something that should have been killed a long time ago. He wondered why he still held so long onto something so fragile and remembered why. If not for his humanity, for the morals that followed him through the millennium, then he might as well be the monster that Olivia had become.
He needed that drink. Now.
Damien had walked through the door, closing it gently behind him. Chase had felt his eyes on him but refused to turn around to greet the man. He didn't want Damien to see the blood soaked pillow nor the blood caked on his face. There was no need; Damien could smell the crimson liquid on the fabric.
Damien didn't say a word; he just climbed into the bed with Chase, even if he knew there was a perfectly made bed on the other side of the room. His nose touched the back of Chase neck and his arms encircled a small waist, bringing a stone faced Chase closer. When the shorter man's back touched his chest he began to speak softly against a pale neck.
"You are not your mistakes. You are not your past. You are Chase, a handsome vampire with the world at his fingertips. Stop walking around with the burdens of the world on his shoulders." Lips kissed the mentioned shoulders. Those same lips trailed upward, up the curve of his neck and to the sensitive spot behind his right ear.
"Damien," the name came out low and breathless - no pun intended. Chase cleared out his throat and repeated the name, louder and sharper. He wanted Damien to stop before things went too far, but that was too late now. He knew he actually didn't want Damien to stop rubbing his hands up and down his back or from traveling lower and lower.
But he didn't want a repetition of last time.
His hands covered the ones moving on his body. "Stop," and Damien did.
Silence reigned victor again as did the night when it came.
His bones ached for humanity
When he was alive, he was told he was like the sun. When he was alive, his skin was darker, as if the sun had kissed every inch of his flesh on his body. But now his tan had faded and all he saw was paleness. Even with his silver locks that reminded him of moon beams, he was told that his eyes were like the ocean, reflecting the warmth that only the sun had. His eyes were his most beautiful features, as he was told, mostly by females willing to spread their legs for the young man. They loved the way his orbs sparkled, even in the darkest of nights or places. He was told that he was like the sun, giving off heat as if he were a furnace; but now the heat had simmered out, leaving only coldness in its wake. He was told his laugh was like music, but now, undead and old enough to feel the bitterness of the earth wash over his skin, the notes never left his lips. Not anymore at the least. To him, he was no longer the sun, but the moon.The moon that had been his only comfort in the night, was now the antagonist of his story; of his 'life'.
Damien had said he was like the sun, twice if he remembered correctly. He was alive the first time, hunched over a piece of metal while the hammer in his dominant hand repeatedly came down on it. Even in his rags, Damien had took one look at him, called him a beauty in raw form like the metal in his hands and compared him to the sun. He didn't know why he cared enough to stop his work in order to listen to the man more clearly, but he did. Words that he had heard before, just rephrased slipped from Damien's lips, but for the first time, Chase believed the letters that joined to form sentences. Damien had smirked, inching closer to him as he continued to compliment the younger man. Chase had said nothing, but his eyes never strayed from the other being for long.
He knew Damien wasn't normal, he could tell from the off coloring of his flesh and the coldness of his eyes.
"I wonder how it would be like to eat the sun?"
His comment was not welcomed, nor was the hungry look in his eyes. He had screamed for the nameless being, creature, whatever the hell he was, to get out. The man had smirked, introduced himself as Damien, a name he never bothered to forget and who departed with "I'll see you soon."
Soon came twenty years after he was turned. He had been turned at twenty two by a rogue vampire who only spared him because he had been shot in the head, execution style by one of his close friends. They met by chance, or at least, that was what Chase had presumed. Damien was cunning and knowing him how he knew him now, he would have even gone as far as saying that he planned their fateful meeting. Damien had not looked as surprised as he did. Damien always hid his emotions well, but he did not know that at the time.
They had traded words, Chase's word covered with ice and Damien's comments laced with sarcasm. Chase had left in a huff and Damien had followed. No amount of snapping or bitching could shake Damien off his tail and in the end, he reluctantly accepted Damien's unwanted company.
Sadly, he had gotten hungry, as he had been starving himself of blood for days then. Even after all the years after the turning, he was still repulsed by blood, only drinking it when on the brink of starvation. Even when he gave him, he only drank the minimal. He kept licking and biting his lips, hands rubbing his flat stomach; passing over ribs that stuck out from under his skin and eyes avoiding the gaze of endless civilians.
He needed to eat.
"When was the last time you ate?" He had hoped Damien would not have noticed or ask that question that he was dreading. But Damien had asked it and he didn't know how to avoid it. Chase had shrugged, avoiding the gaze of endless black.
"Come on," Damien had pulled him by his wrist and past several buildings, back in the direction they had come from. Chase noted, with some form of disattachment, that they had passed his own motel room, and stopped at a building only four blocks away from where he was staying.
He let himself be lead into the high end hotel, up several flights of stairs and into a spacious room. He only saw a blur of gold, red and black before he was pushed onto the bed. He was given no time to take in his surroundings, his head landing on large plush pillows and his body bouncing on the large mattress covered by silk sheets. Damien had given Chase no chance to speak or move before he crawled onto the bed himself and straddled the younger being.
"What-?" Damien had silenced him with a long finger and an icy look.
"How long have you gone without feeding?" The woods came out with a growl and Chase gulped, chest rising and falling quickly out of habit.
"Four, maybe five days." Chase flinched at Damien's sneer.
"Fool," he hissed as he used his sharper than normal nails to slice the skin of his wrist open. Chase tried to raise himself off the bed in alarm but a strong hand slammed him down. The air would have been knocked out of him if he were still human. But he was weak from not having fed and his ribs were bruised from the surprisingly strong force.
"Eat." It was a demand and the wrist was brought closer to chapped lips, leaving no room for arguments. Chase chest raised up and down, his eyes following the drops that contrasted so sharply with pale skin. He couldn't take his eyes away, as if they were glued to the mesmerizing look of crimson. Chase licked his lips, the rational part of his mind saying 'this' or whatever 'this' was, was just plain wrong. It seemed the ideas of the society he grew up in as a human, were still branded into his skin.
Damien had pulled Chase hair back, the fierce grip causing the younger vampire to flinch in pain. Chase whimpered, his eyes pleading and tearing up.
Blood fell from his eyes, the vampire version of crying, of tears.
"Eat," came the growl again and this time the wrist was shoved under his nose and Chase moaned. The unique scent of blood: iron, metallic and something else, after such a long time of denying himself of it, was arousing.
His tongue swept out to catch the stray drops and whimpered as it hit his tongue. He continued to whimper louder when Damien had pulled back his wrist to reopen the now healed wound. The next time the blood was offered, he happily opened up his mouth.
His tongue came out to play again, licking at the tempting crimson, his mouth letting moans fall from his lips.
It felt good; too good. He needed more.
He needed more blood, more skin on skin, more of Damien on him; in him.
His fangs elongated and he dug in to the open cut, his eyes rolling back at the first mouthful. He bucked, hips meeting hips and moans escaping at the overwhelming sensation.
Drinking blood had never been this orgasmic.
Damien had gently opened his mouth and disatached the fangs from his wrist. Chase had groaned, lips trembling, hips lifting in protest.
"Please," he begged, rubbing his groin against the other male.
Above him, Damien's eyes were half open, gaze dazed and tongue running over pale pink lips. When his eyes refocused, he had stared at the body underneath his own before giving into the temptation that was Chase bucking and moaning. He had suddenly bent over, cupped Chase's cheeks and kissed blood stained lips. The hands that traveled down his side were drawing blood and Chase moaned louder, voice low and husky against the Damien's ear.
"More," he begged again, between kisses. Chase was on a high, from the blood of another vampire. Tasting a human had never caused him to want to peel his clothes or make him as hard as Damien's blood did.
Damien's lip quirked up to a smirk again, one that made Chase want to kiss away until the man was whimpering as much as he was.
"You are the sun to my moon," he kissed Chase before he could comment on his words.
That night, the sheets and their flesh had been painted red.
His body ached for release
He had gotten a slight sunburn, since Vampires had evolved to the point that the sun no longer made them combust into flames. He was never so appreciative of science than he was when he was running in the daylight.
Damien had found him, hours later, curled up under the sheets of his own bed.
Damien had said nothing, even though Chase had expected him to scream and rip him to shreds. Instead, the man had peeled the sheets back, climbed in and curled up against him. He had kissed his neck and hugged him, arms circling his waist like he was in the present time.
He had cried in the arms of a stranger, confessing his secrets. He had dug deep into himself, painting his hands black from the darkness inside his soul. He was tainted. He kept repeating that phrase and Damien had only hugged him tighter, saying that he himself was" broken and together we would be as broken and tainted as we claimed to be."
Damien was his sun even if he claimed to be the moon.
Chase chocked on a cry, not wanting to disturbed Damien. The man rarely slept all through the night or day for that matter and he was not going to be the one to interrupt his slumber.
He felt the tears slip down his cheeks, mingling with the caked up blood he had failed to clean off his face. He wanted to scream but knew he couldn't. He felt inadequate like he was never enough, not for himself or for Damien. Not for anyone or anything. He wanted to turn around and yell at Damien to leave, because the man was wasting his time; to tell him that he was waiting for something that was never going to happen.
But he knew he couldn't, because Damien would leave at his request and that would be the end to their little game. He couldn't leave his only companion. He would feel emptier than he already did if the man up and left him. He didn't know or understand what they had between them, but he wasn't going to let him go no matter what. Olivia had tried to break them apart and that had ended in her downfall.
And that would be his if he lost anymore brain cells.
He turned around to face the older Damien, who has 500 years his senior and smiled. Chase kissed slightly open lips and his smile got bigger when Damien, unconsciously, pulled him closer and against his chest. He didn't know how he really felt about Damien, not when he was still hung up on Olivia and all the girls that came before her, but he wanted it to continue evolving. He needed Damien to hold him like he was now, kiss him every night and whisper how they are in this, whatever mess they were in, whatever 'this' was, together. At the end of the night, they were together, hand in hand, his back flushed against Damien's chest and his world spiraling in and out of control.
With Damien, he would conquer the world. With Olivia, he would have gone straight to the abyss that was hell.
Damien was right. He did need to let the other women go. She had caused enough trouble in his lifetime and needed to get her out of his system. Once she was out, Damien would have free range over him.
He didn't understand where those thoughts were coming from, but he had an idea. He could be in denial his whole vampiric lifetime, but deep down he knew what he wanted from the older being.
He wanted Damien to himself.
Chase kissed the man again, harder and harder, hands reaching out to pull the man impossibly closer to his body.
He needed Damien closer.
But no matter how much he dragged the man closer to him, flush against his body, it wasn't enough. He raised his legs a bit more, laying it on top of Damien's thigh and wrapping his arms around his neck.
He whispered Damien's name and the man shifted in his sleep.
He buried his face in Damien's neck and nipped at the exposed skin. Damien slept without a shirt on, something he appreciated when he was not mad at the man. He needed Damien to wake up and reassure him that he was going to be okay; that they were going to be okay, even with Olivia's impending visit hanging over their heads. His grip tightened, not wanting to think about the consequences her visit would result in.
"Damien," he whispered louder, this time closer to the man's sensitive ear.
Damien groaned, wrapping his arms even further around the smaller body and burying his nose into silver hair.
"Damien!" The harsh whisper of his name caused his eyes to snap open and Chase smiled. But the smile dropped when Damien had remained stone faced, his lips pressed together to form a thin line.
"You were crying," it was an observation not a question, but Chase felt the need to nod, even if the evidence was on his face.
Damien's fingers brushed over the trails of dry blood and brought the flakes to his lips. When done, he swept his tongue over the trail, the stubborn remaining flakes dissolving on his tongue.
Chase wanted to speak, to say that there was no need to get rid of the trails his tears had left but Damien was having none of that. He had shushed Chase with a stare and Chase had sighed in defeat, knowing that once Damien was set on something, nothing could be done.
If he was not that way, they wouldn't even be laying in the same bed, let alone be in the same space.
Damien was a stubborn person, and when he was done, his hands trailed down to his hips and stayed there.
"Why?" Chase knew what he was referring to. Why had he been crying? Why did he not wake up the man earlier, before the tears had begun to fall?
He opened his mouth and closed it again, his hands rubbing the skin on Damien's collar.
"I was thinking of some things."
Damien raised a black eyebrow before snorting.
"If thinking results in tears and guilt then I will make sure to squash every thought you have." Chase wanted to question how he would do that but he remained silent. Damien meant well, but he was very silly with the things he said.
Suddenly, without warning, Damien had gone stiff.
"Was it Olivia?"
"What? No-"
"Don't lie Chase, was it her?" Damien's words were harsh and the sneer on his face showed his rage.
"Yes, yes it was. But please, calm down babe."
Damien just continued to stare down at him, his eyes hard and dark like coals. His stare was setting his insides on fire.
