A sigh as he pushes off the wall, moving towards you. His footsteps are completely silent against the pavement, a stark reminder of what exactly he is.

Ackerman.

You had always thought yourself an apex predator before you learned of his bloodline. Born with every tool needed to destroy your kind already built into his genetic code. Stronger than normal humans, faster and quieter too. Cunning in a way that is more dangerous than anything else about him.

"This has to end. You know that."

He's on you now, strong hands gripping your shoulders as he spins you towards the brick wall. You let him, pushing back every instinct as you feel the point of his stake pressed between your ribs. He could kill you in an instant this way. He wouldn't even break a sweat.

Your eyes find his in the dark, searching. You find what you always do in them. Hesitation and something else. Something hungry. Something sad. You see yourself reflected back at you.

"Then end it." You respond, bringing a hand up to cover his against the smooth wood. "Go on. I'm waiting."

You can feel him suck in a deep breath, body pressed right against yours, close enough for you to feel his rapid heartbeat against your chest. His adrenaline in overdrive, maybe, but you know better. You've done this little dance for years now and you know that his heart beats for something else entirely.

"Scared?"

He scoffs, warm breath hitting your face as he presses the stake just a little harder against your chest. It burns, badly, but you ignore the sting. You don't mind a little pain with your foreplay, but you can only take so much.

You move, lightning quick, sending the offending piece of kindling skittering across the cement. Switching positions so that his back hits brick, sharp, lacquered nails digging into his jaw as you bring your face even closer to his. You tilt his chin up, running your nose down the side of his neck and breathing in deep.

"You should be." You purr, feeling your fangs grow in your mouth, unbidden.

Ackerman blood is the sweetest you've ever tasted and the scent alone is enough to make hunger gnaw at your insides. You can feel ever muscle in his body go taut, like he's preparing to move but you know he won't. You don't have to look into his eyes to know that he's just as hungry as you, if only he weren't too proud to admit it.

"Damn it." He groans, low and pained. "We can't—"

You press a soft kiss under his jaw, cutting him off. He takes a sharp inhale, body shuddering.

"You know that I have to—"

"What? Kill me?" You chuckle against his skin, letting your mouth fall open enough for your teeth to catch against his flesh, not enough to break the skin, not yet.

"Yes."

His hands clench on your waist, tugging you closer even as you can feel his every instinct fighting against it. You feel it too, deep in your bones. Everything in you knows that you should rip his throat out here and now. His very existence is a threat to you and your kin. You may have him pinned now, but he's strong and fast enough to change that in an instant.

You only have the upper hand because he gave it to you. You know you should use it. Put an end to all of this before he does. You both know there's only one way this can end.

You lift you mouth from his throat, but the heady scent of his blood is everywhere now, begging you to sink your teeth in and taste. You meet his gaze, relaxing your grip on his face until you're almost caressing it.

"I'm not stopping you." Your lips barely brush as you speak, the words more accusation than observation.

"Like hell you're not." He bites back through gritted teeth, eyes narrowed and jaw set sight.

Of course, he's playing the blame game now. Like this hasn't happened more times than either of you can count. Like you both haven't walked away scot-free every time.

"I can assure you that hypnosis isn't one of my gifts."

"It is." He breaths out, hands climbing up to tangle in the back of your hair. The gesture could be a threat but you know that it isn't. "For me, it is."

"If that makes you feel better."

He pulls your lips down against his hard; angry in that way it always is. Fierce, unforgiving in it's hunger. He kisses you like he hates you, and he might. He should. Just as you should hate him. But when he kisses you, you know how it feels to be the one being devoured. You surrender to it, mouth going soft and pliable beneath his.

The kiss breaks on ragged breaths from the both you. For a split second you just meet his gaze, as if waiting for something. You're always waiting. Waiting for the blow to come, for the spell to break. It never does; this thing between you balanced on a knife's edge and bleeding but never quite toppling over the edge.

So you dive in, fangs bared.

Flesh gives to the sharpness of your teeth, sweet nectar exploding against your tongue. He flinches but doesn't push. He gasps, but not in pain. No, you can feel it in the way his body melts against yours. Ecstasy.

Everything blurs as you drink him in, the world condensing down to this moment and the taste of him on your lips. Warmth spills down your throat, spreading through your chest and setting every nerve in your body alight.

The noise he makes, low and deep in his throat, nearly sends you into a frenzy, your entire being screaming more, more, more.

And then that hand clenches in your hair, pulling hard. You fight against it, lost to your baser instincts. Your nails dig into his skin, scraping and drawing blood that fills your nose, making your eyes roll.

"Enough."

You whine as unceremoniously yanks you off of him, silver eyes blown out and nearly black as he stares at you, chest heaving. You suck in deep gulps of air, trying hard to pull yourself back to your senses, but the taste of him lingers, speaking to your base instincts.

"You taste so good."

"Fucking hell." His face scrunches up in disgust and his head tilts back against the brick behind him, giving you the perfect the blood still seeping out of the puncture wound you left, trickling down in a beautiful crimson river.

Your pull his face back to yours, still hungry but restraining yourself for now. "No, really, have a taste."

He glares at you and opens his mouth, no doubt to protest, but you silence him quickly. You cover his mouth with yours, still dripping in his blood. You lick into his mouth, making sure he can taste himself properly and he moans. He's more like you than he'll ever admit, but you don't feel the need to rub it in right now. No, you're too focused on the way he gives to you, his grip on your hair relaxing as he kisses back, tongue running over yours like he's as starving as you are.

And then his teeth sink deep into your lower lip. They're dull but they get the job done, breaking the skin. You gasp into his mouth, knees feeling suddenly weak as he suckles at the torn skin.

Before you can really begin to enjoy the sensation, he snaps away, as if realizing what he's done. Strong hands shove you off, tearing your lips apart. You take an unsteady step back and roll your eyes. You know exactly what's got him suddenly in a tizzy.

"That's not nearly enough to turn you."

"Don't care." He shakes his head, running a hand over his face and smearing blood down to his chin, leaving it tinged in pink. His breathing is ragged and short as he collects himself, looking equal parts shocked and completely undone. "Not worth the risk."

He'd make a good vampire. You've had the thought many, many times. He already possesses super human strength due to his Ackerman genes, you can only imagine what kind of gifts you could bestow with a little more of your blood.

And then this dance between you would never have to come to an end.

Of course, he'd never let go of his precious humanity like that. Not easily. He may falter every time you meet this way, but you know him to be a man of principles. It makes you a little sick, really. He doesn't realize how quickly things like that fade when faced with eternity.

"Fine, have it your way." You mutter, shrugging. "Are we done here then?"

He pauses, closing his eyes; another bizarre show of trust on his part but it's not unearned. You've yet to drink him dry thus far.

"No."

As expected.

His eyes shoot open and they are as ravenous as ever. He takes a step towards you and you don't move a muscle to stop him, holding his gaze as he grabs you by your arm and spins you around. You brace yourself against your forearms to stop your face from colliding with the brick as he places a hand against your lower back, forcing it to bend.

"So you can keep those teeth away from my neck."

You know damn well it's nothing to do with that. You've felt the way he shudders every time you press your fangs against his throat, felt the way it make him swell in his jeans. You let the blatant misdirection slide, letting him hold on to that fear he has of becoming like you.

Cool air hits heated skin as hands bunch in the fabric of your dress, sliding it up your thighs. He presses himself against you, fingers sliding down to rub you through your panties. He groans against your ear, finding them already soaked.

He wastes no time, pushing the damp fabric to the side and diving in. His fingers are as rough as his kisses, sliding in and out and setting a punishing rhythm that has you keening as he opens you up for him.

The sound of his zipper going rings loud in the empty alley. You can only imagine the desperate, impatient look on his face as he frees himself. You gasp out a moan as the head of him nudges against your entrance, pushing just enough to slot perfectly past his tip.

His hand slaps around your mouth, muffling your filthy sounds and you take the opportunity offered. Fangs sink deep into his palm, drawing a hiss from him.

He slams the rest of the way in, maybe in retaliation, maybe in desperation. The sound that bubbles up in your throat is lost as you greedily drink him in, tongue laving at the open wound you've so beautifully created.

"Fuck." He groans, setting a nasty, angry pace. His hips collide with yours with every brutal thrust, shaking your entire frame.

You're lost completely between the feeling of him filling you up with harsh measured movements that send waves of pleasure running up your spine and the taste of sweet ichor on your tongue, making your head feel light. Two different hungers sated at once in a single act of delicious hedonism.

He tears his hand from your mouth, the loss making your chest ache. You whine, tilting your head over your shoulder to look at him, pleading.

"You've had more than enough." He grits out, keeping up that merciless tempo.

But then that same hand snakes down over your hip and around to palm at your clit. You can feel the warm, sticky slide of his blood over the engorged bud and it takes everything in you to stay standing. Your head drops forward, resting against the wall as he coats you in it before rubbing tight circles there.

You have to bite down hard on your own lip to keep from outright screaming, the taste of your blood mingling with his and filling your mouth.

Your release hits you without warning, your body convulsing in his grip as everything inside of you seems to explode into pure euphoria. He grunts at the feeling of your walls clamping down around him, his thrusts becoming less coordinated as he follows you over the edge.

Everything stills for a moment as he drops his head against your shoulder, breathing heavily into your ear. Your body goes limp, sinking back into his and he catches you, holding you up. You settle, focusing on his rapid heartbeat against your back.

A breath. And then another. Both of you unwilling to speak or move as you revel in this rare and stolen moment of peace. You can feel the ghost of his lips pressed against your neck, tender almost. You can't help but notice the way his arms tighten slightly around you, like he's worried you'll turn to smoke.

"There won't be a next time that ends with you still breathing."

And there it is. Broken in an instant. You step away, smoothing down the fabric of your dress with a sigh. "You suck at pillow talk, you know that, Levi?"

You wait for a smart ass response, but when you turn around, he's already gone.

You wonder, like always, when he'll finally mean it.