Evora

The attendant snorted and heaved himself to his feet, shoulders hunched like a dying crow. “It always is.” He turned and bellowed into the gloom beyond the desk.

“PIRA. COME HERE. THERE’S A CUSTOMER.”

You heard the call from the far end of the corridor, where you were finishing your third pass with the mop. The floor there was cleaner, sure, but it never stayed that way for long. Still, you were proud of the gleam you coaxed out of it.

“Comiiiiin’!” you called, dragging the mop bucket behind you. Today had been quiet. Just one poor bastard with a bullet through his ear. You’d patched him up, looped a piercing through the wound for flair. He’d liked it. Said he might make it a trend.

“Stop being so cheerful.” Attendant Leroy groaned out, stubbing his cigarette out on the floor you’d just mopped. You didn’t care, all that did was give you an excuse to mop it again, any excuse to walk through these halls again and again and again. “It’s too late for that.”

Not paying the comment any mind, you skipped towards the reception. Breathing deeply and trying to ignore all the bleach, in hopes of catching something more appealing, something that’d get the engine revving a bit more, something-

You froze mid-step like you’d slammed into a wall, your hands gripping the mop handle hard enough to splinter it.

That’s the stuff.

Rich. Electric. Absolutely intoxicating. It hit you like warm blood poured straight down your throat. Not the usual coppery tang of gangsters and junkies, or the muted junk you could find in suburbs. No. This was different. Refined. Complex. Sharp like citrus peel, warm like cedar and if you’d had any interest in wine, you could probably add seventy more descriptors. It didn’t matter. 

The new customer smelled absolutely delicious.

You nearly doubled over from the intensity of it, throat tightening, hunger flaring like a second heartbeat.

Barely able to look up, you made eye-contact with the new arrival. He was a young man, probably mid-twenties, though you’d probably card him just to be safe if he asked you to buy him vodka. Wearing a fluffy pink sweater and denim pants that had been ripped, he looked quite unlike the usual ruffians that came down here. It’d been a while since you’d seen anyone that wasn’t wearing either a suit or a band tee. 

His hair was a yellow-ish blonde, short with bangs, and you reckoned most would look idiotic with a haircut like that. You liked it on him. Made him seem like the one well-dressed guy at a Magic the Gathering tournament. Not that you’d ever been, but you could imagine.

Your voice came out shaky, reverent as you looked at the blonde man grasping his foot in the hall. “S-s-sir, are you perhaps a hunter?”

Leroy groaned without turning around, like this was an old, annoying tune. “Oh dear god, not this again.” He dragged a hand down his face. He raced towards you, took the mop from your hands and slapped you with the wet part, making you jump away and yelp. “Bad Pira! Bad!”

You hissed like a cat, backing off. 

There wasn’t an answer, and Leroy beckoned the customer to follow him to the operating room. This was lightly surprising. Usually customers were heavily vetted to see if they were good for it, but apparently Leroy trusted this man would pay up. Interesting. 

The man in pink just watched everything. If anything, he seemed amused. He trailed a finger along the tiled wall as he followed the attendant deeper into the hallway, his severed foot still tucked casually under one arm. He moved like he was floating. Like he’d never known pain in his life, like this was a minor inconvenience in his day.

“I remember this place very differently.” Shalnark mused.

“Most don’t remember it at all,” Leroy replied, pushing open the dented steel door to the back. “You’re one of the few to walk in here consciously.”

As the light from the operating room spilled out, you stood there,taking the mop from the floor, lips slightly parted, pulse quick and meaningless as the man walked past you. He hadn’t answered your question, and seemed a bit curious why you were staring at him so intently, but while missing a foot and walking into a surgery, one probably had more important priorities.

He smelled like everything you weren’t supposed to want.

And you already wanted him so badly.

Anesthesia was extra, and it seemed Shalnark was a thrifty man, as he just sat down on the bed and lifted up his stump to Leroy to handle. You’d followed after Leroy sent you a glare worth taking into account, and merely sat by the door, knowing your boss wouldn’t let you mop right now… Shalnark had bled all over the reception, and you’d been caught licking the floor one time too many. If you excused yourself now, you’d be hit with the mop again.

“So why’d you wanna know if I’m a hunter?” Shalnark asked as he was covered in surgical sheets and pushed back onto the cot.

“Don’t talk to her.” Leroy grumbled as he set up everything for the tourniquet. “It’ll give you a headache.” 

Shalnark was still looking at you, and you couldn’t disobey that stare, not when you wanted to get into his good graces no matter what. You beamed. Too much.  “Oh! I’m a vampire, and hunters smell really nice, so I-”

A clatter interrupted you as Leroy grabbed a handful of instruments and chucked them in your direction.  “Stop! Telling! People! You’re! A! Vampire!”

You dodged most of them easily, but a scalpel caught you clean in the shoulder. You gave a small, involuntary "meep" as you pulled it out with a wince.

“It weirds out the customers,” Leroy muttered, already wiping off another tool on the bottom of his apron.

Shalnark blinked once, then slowly repeated, “A vampire? Like… for real?”

Leroy shot you a glare – the kind that promised more airborne scalpels if you opened your mouth again – so you just gave Shalnark a slow, dramatic nod the moment Leroy turned back to his work. You even put a finger to your lips.

Shh.

His smile widened.

The operating room had long since been cleared out. The blood mopped, the tools washed (enough), and Shalnark moved. Not to discharge, of course. Patients weren’t discharged here. They just left when they felt like it. Until then, he was free to use the room until some poor sucker came along that needed it more.

He hadn’t left yet.

Now he was laid out on one of the only intact cots in the recovery ward, which was really just a storage room with an IV stand, a cracked fan overhead, and a blanket that was washed at least once per year. You made sure of it.

You peeked around the doorframe again.

Still there.

Still alive.

Still smelling incredible.

His eyes opened without warning. “You checking on me again, Pira?”

You startled and bumped your elbow against a shelf of empty plasma bags, causing a hollow crinkle as they collapsed around you. “Nooo,” you said, obviously lying as you put back everything where it was supposed to be. “I was just… dusting. That shelf, for example.”

Shalnark tilted his head slightly, and suddenly smiled like you were being a very stupid animal. “You’ve dusted that shelf three times in two hours.”

You smiled shakily. “Only.. the best! For our customers!”

He hummed like he believed you completely.

You edged closer despite yourself. His bandaged foot was propped up on a pillow, elevated slightly, toes peeking out like the aftermath of a magic trick gone halfway. How Leroy had managed to attach the foot back on was a mystery to you, but you’d been scolded when you’d asked too many questions, so you tried not to care. Still, it had to hurt, didn’t it? He didn’t look uncomfortable. If anything, he looked bored. 

You tried not to breathe through your nose.

Failed.

That same heady scent curled into your lungs again, and you had to clench your teeth behind your smile. Delicious. Too delicious.

He shifted just slightly on the bed. “So. Vampire, huh?”

You hesitated. Leroy had said to stop telling people. But… Shalnark already knew. And Leroy wasn’t around. 

You nodded slowly, arms tucked behind your back. “Mmhm.”

“What’s that like?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Everyone always talks about vampires like they’re these terrifying, soulless monsters. You’re more like… a raccoon someone tried to house-train.”

“Excuse me?” you gasped, hating the image he put into your head.

Sure, you weren’t any Dracula, with long black robes and a transylvanian accent, but you were cool! You were way stronger than any normal human, and you could do cool acrobatic tricks now. Another thing you weren’t allowed, though, since it’d been deemed childish to show customers you could do a backwards flip now.

“Not in a bad way,” he said, grinning now. “You’re just really enthusiastic and I bet you lick the floor when no one’s looking.”

“I don’t lick the floor!” you shot back in a shrill voice, insulted. Had Leroy told on you when you hadn’t been looking? How much did he know?!

“So. How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine.”

“And how long have you been,” he wiggled his eyebrows. “…. twenty-nine.”

“Since this year.” 

“Oh.” 

“The room smelled like old bandages and iron, which wouldn’t be remarkable if not for the way he still managed to cut through all of it. You'd told yourself you were only checking on his vitals, but you’d been standing in the doorway for a little too long to keep pretending.

Shalnark didn’t even look up from the half-shredded paperback.

“You know,” he said casually, flipping a page, “you really do have that whole ‘creature of the night’ thing down. Sulking in the doorway. Not coming in unless invited.”

You stiffened. “I'm not sulking.”

He looked up, grin lazy. “Lurking, then.”

You stepped in with an exaggerated sigh, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m checking your chart.”

“No chart on that clipboard.”

You looked down. Damn. Just a blank form with a doodle of a bat in the corner. You quickly tucked it under your arm. “...It's internal documentation.”

Shalnark watched you for a moment, something mischievous sparking in his eyes. “You really want a drop don’t you?”

You side-eyed him like he’d just suggested getting ice cream on a sunny day and then going for a swim after. Perfect. Now all you needed to do was drive this home, and you’d have convinced him. 

Yippee!

Despite your internal cheering, he seemed rather non-plussed. “Haven’t I bled enough on the tools- the reception?” 

“Noooo…” You groaned, sitting next to him on a dingy white plastic chair. “Leroy will yell at me. Last time he said he’d kick me out into the sun if I did something like that again. It’s bullshit. He just wants me here to tell him what type people are, or if they have diseases or something like ‘where’s the bloodclot Pira?’ meanwhile I’m suffering! Suffering I tell you!”

He let the moment stretch just long enough before saying: “Truly made undone by the blood…”

You blinked.

Your lips parted.

And then- “Did you just quote Bloodborne at me?”

He snickered. “Whoops.”

Your hand flew to the ceiling.. “I should throw you out of the bed right now.”

“Oh come on,” he said, laughing. “How could I not say it? You're a vampire working in a blood-soaked backroom hospital. It’s practically Yharnam down here.”

You tried very hard not to smile. You failed.

“Yeah, well,” you muttered, glancing away, “A corpse like me… should be well left alone.”

Shalnark sat upright, elbows resting loosely on his knees. The fluorescent light caught in his pale blond hair, and his boyish face was lit with a mischievous grin. Those bright, greenish-blue eyes sparkled.

“That’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” he said, absolutely delighted.

The soft thump of the ball in your hands broke the beat of silence that followed. You tossed it lazily back to him across the cramped hospital room. It was one of those cheap, half-deflated stress balls someone must’ve left behind, now serving as the only entertainment between the two of you. The sterile light overhead flickered slightly.

Shalnark caught the ball easily with one hand, fingers long and relaxed around it. He was sitting sideways on the visitor’s chair, legs drawn up so one foot rested on the seat while the other dangled loosely over the side. “Is your name really Pira?”

“No,” you answered, headbutting the ball back his way. “Underground hospitals aren’t a really good place to be casually tossing your real name around.”

“I guessed.”

“Pira the Vampiraaa~” you hummed. “I sound like a Sesame Street character.”

“Act like one too.”

“Shut uppp.”

“Would you be interested in a trade?” Shalnark asked on day three. He was already back to working out, carefully avoiding putting too much pressure on his recently amputated foot. Whenever you had a moment, you’d visit him. He seemed to appreciate it, even if he’d realized by now that most of it was just you trying to satisfy your hunger.

“What would you trade for a teaspoon of my blood?” he asked, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“A teaspoon?” You shook your head. “That’d only make me more annoying. Just enough to get a taste, but not nearly enough to sate it. I can guarantee I’d become insufferable. Unless, of course, you want me hanging around the edge of your bed all night, begging for more.”

He went quiet for a moment, and when you glanced at him, you found him smiling with slightly glassy eyes.

“Oi,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“Hm? Oh, sorry, I was thinking,” Shalnark muttered, snapping back to reality. “But okay, a teaspoon’s too little. How about... three sips?”

You folded your hands together, fully serious now. “What do you want in return? I can’t just give away discounts or something like that. Leroy would kill me.”

“Nothing like that.” He held up a small piece of paper. “There’s no cell reception here, and I need to get this message to a friend. Could you deliver it for me?”

You beamed and reached for the paper. “Sure! As long as it’s something I can deliver at night, I’m your courier!”

“How dependable.” Shalnark said, patting your head.

Shalnark was lounging on the bed, one leg casually draped over the edge, eyes glinting with amusement when he saw you enter.

“Mission accomplished?” he asked.

It’d been easy. You went to the address Shalnark had given you, handed the paper over to another tall blonde- maybe family?- and had returned sprinting, making a lot of passerby’s scared as you burst past them, drooling a little. 

You didn’t bother answering him immediately. You could feel your fangs itching against your gums, your mind too clouded with the thought of his blood to focus on anything else. Without thinking, you grabbed his hand and yanked him forward, your gaze flicking toward his wrist.

“Three sips,” you said, practically purring with the anticipation of it. “I’ve kept my end of the deal. Time for you to keep yours.”

Shalnark’s grin grew wider, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. He didn’t pull away from your grip. Instead, he calmly let you pull him closer.

“You really are impatient,” he murmured, amused by your urgency. But then he tutted. “You’re not going to drink from just anywhere, though.”

You paused, looking up at him in confusion. “What are you—”

“Only my neck,” he said, voice firm, as if anything else was fully off the table. “I’ll let you drink, but not from my wrist.” He lifted his other hand and tapped his neck lightly, a gesture as deliberate as it was teasing.

Your brain hiccuped.

“Oh no, that’s—” You laughed a little too sharply. “That’s not necessary. The wrist’s fine. No reason to—”

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t want it?”

"No, no, no. I do. It’s just… I’d have to lean all over you… and it’s a bit… intimate," you muttered, suddenly finding the tile floor very interesting. "That’s why it’s... weird."

"You’re a vampire in a basement blood den. Now you have standards?"

You flushed visibly, unfortunately, and tried not to groan. “It’s different when it’s the neck.”

He just looked at you.

You swallowed hard. Then, without looking at him, you stepped in, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin. Close enough to hear his heartbeat.

"This is dumb," you whispered, but you tilted your head anyway.

Before you fully reached him he grabbed you and placed you on his lap, moving you so you were sideways and in direct view of the neck he was showing you. You landed there with a muted thud, your knees brushing against his thigh, his hand still resting lightly at your waist. 

For a second you were sure you’d jump up and walk away out of sheer embarrassment, but being so close now, at eyeline with the thumping artery calling your name, nothing was going to stop you. You ignored the indignation of the position and leaned forward, until your nose brushed against his skin.

You hesitated. For a single, suspended breath, your lips hovered just above his skin. Then, with a slow, deliberate inhale, you tilted your head and sank your fangs in. Shalnark didn’t tense, or give any other indication that you’d hurt him in any way. Blood filled your mouth, and like coming home, you forgot about anything else. You drank carefully. Three slow sips. Just three. The taste was worse than you’d feared. 

Not because it was bad, but because it was too good.

His blood was warm and rich, saturated with life and something that shimmered just beneath the surface. Like lightning in water. A pure distilled form of life in every drop. You’d had a lot of blood by this point- a pint a day even- but this was the best tasting blood you’d ever encountered.

When you pulled back, your breath caught. You hovered there, close, lips barely parted, still tasting him on your tongue. You didn’t mean to look at him when you pulled back, but your eyes lifted anyway, and met his.

And for a heartbeat, neither of you said anything.

He looked… not smug. Just very still. His hand came up, brushing your cheek with the backs of his fingers. It felt absurdly gentle after what you’d just done. Most people complained it hurt, yet he seemed like it’d tasted as good for him as it had for you.

“Was that good?” he asked, voice low.

You flushed, fangs already half-retracted, lips still red. “You’re not supposed to say stuff like that right after-”

But you didn’t finish.

Because he leaned forward and kissed you.

His mouth pressed to yours softly at first. When you didn’t pull away, he kissed you deeper, with a hand still at your cheek like he was grounding you, the other arm wrapped around you to keep you in place.

Your body betrayed you completely, and you’d blame the headiness the blood had caused. You leaned into him, one hand gripping his shirt like it was the only thing holding you up.

And when he finally pulled back, barely an inch, the magic was gone immediately and you just stood up from his lap as if you’d been struck by lightning and turned towards him, stunned.

“…Why’d you do that?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

He smiled, eyes still half-lidded. “Because I like you.”

“I should be mad at you,” you murmured in response.

Shalnark grinned boyishly. “You can bite me again if it’ll make you feel better.”

–

The next evening, you stepped into the recovery room with two Playstation controllers and a dumb excuse ready (something about needing to check his stitches or maybe the air circulation or whatever). You weren’t even sure what you were going to say. You just knew you were going to say something and he’d laugh, and you’d laugh and things would be back to normal.

But the bed was empty.

Sheets pulled tight. 

You stared at the bed for longer than you meant to, controllers still in your hands. You shifted your weight. Set them down on the bedside table. Picked them back up.

Leroy passed the door at one point and muttered without stopping, “Pretty boy checked out this morning. Said he had business.”

You didn’t answer.

You stood there another minute, arms hanging awkwardly by your sides, lips still tinged faintly red from the night before. The taste of him had already faded, but the memory hadn’t. It was a bit much to ask of you to already forget the best blood you’d ever tasted, along with the weirdest kiss ever.

You just blinked once, like it was nothing, and turned on your heel.

There were floors to mop. Beds to prep. Gangsters to patch up. Nothing had stopped. 

It had been five days.

Five days of patching up bullet wounds, dodging Leroy’s thrown scalpels and moping around because of a criminal that’d kissed you. You’d convinced yourself he wasn’t coming back, and you weren't really sure if you even wanted him to. It’d been three sips and a kiss. nothing important. Nothing to write home about.

So when the elevator creaked open and he stepped out with two massive black duffel bags, your brain didn’t register it for a full three seconds.

As Shalnark noticed you, his face was set to beaming. “Ah Pira! Good to see you again. Could you sit there for a bit, I need to discuss something with Leroy.” 

Leroy threw a cigarette through the reception hall, missing your face barely. “What is it?”

“I have a business proposition for you.” Shalnark was grinning widely. “If you’d be interested.”

Leroy looked up from his crossword puzzle. “What you trynna scam me on?”

A part of you wanted him to have come back for you, but you didn’t dare believe that, so you thought of other reasons. Oh! He could be hurt, couldn’t he? You walked up to Shalnark, and tried to make eye contact with him. “Is everything okay? You aren’t hurt, are you? I don’t smell anything…”

Shalnark patted your head and reached into his coat.

You blinked, still locked in place.

Then- click.

A soft sound, metallic and final, right beneath your jaw.

You looked down slowly.

There was a collar now fastened snug around your neck. Smooth pastel purple leather. And hanging from the front, glinting under the fluorescents: a small, silver bat charm.

Your hand flew up to it instinctively. “What the hell…”

Shalnark just smiled, eyes gleaming like a cat who’d finally cornered something fast and hot-blooded.

“A gift,” he said, tone light. “Also a receipt.”

He turned to Leroy, who was entirely unbothered by your flailing confusion, and slid both bags his way. “I’m buying her. Open the bags.”

“I’m sorry…what?” you sputtered.

Leroy, skeptical as ever, approached with all the enthusiasm of a man expecting a trap. He unzipped one of the duffels and froze.

Stacks. Piles. Millions of Jenny, bound in bands and smelling faintly of fresh ink.

The second bag was the same. 

Impossible to argue with.

Leroy blinked, then looked up at you, deadpan. “You’re someone else’s problem now.”

“Wait…what-Leroy?!” It wasn’t like you two were close in any capacity, but still, to backstab you so quickly was unexpected.

“Don’t give me that tone. That’s more money than this hospital’s seen in ten years. Clearly the boy likes you more than I do.” He was already pulling the bags deeper inside, eyes gleaming like a crow with a shiny button. “Honestly, I should’ve sold you months ago.”

You whirled on Shalnark. “You can’t just-! I’m an employee! The hospital doesn’t own my damn life!”

“Oh, I’m not buying you,” he said sweetly, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m just securing exclusive rights to your time, attention, and very sharp teeth for the foreseeable future.”

You opened your mouth, closed it again, and pointed at the collar. “This is insane.”

“Would it be better if I put it on myself?” he asked, already reaching for the clasp with a smirk.

You batted his hands away, flushed and stunned, your voice dropping to a hiss. “You don’t own me, and I’m not your dog, and I’m not doing anything I don’t want to, like wear a collar!”

“Of course not.” His voice dipped, quieter, as if appeasing a hissing cat. “But I missed you. And this way, I don’t have to wonder where you are. There’s like ten trackers in there!”

You stared at him, breath caught somewhere between anger and something very childish. And the worst part was, your fangs had already started to ache again… just a little. “That’s stupid.”

Shalnark hummed and grabbed your hand, dragging you to the elevator. You were struggling, a little bit for show, but even as you exerted the strength of multiple full-grown men, Shalnark’s arms showed no exertion as he took you with him into the dingy metal box. “I’ll send someone for your stuff later. First, let’s get you settled in.” 

Leroy’s voice echoed from down the hall: “Do not bring her back if she breaks anything. Or bites anyone important.”

It took two weeks before you stopped jumping up curtains and hissing at him whenever he entered a room. After the first week, you already weren’t mad anymore, but it was a matter of principle.

The new set-up, weird as it was, was a massive upgrade from your last arrangement. You weren’t begging for blood and stuck in operating rooms for hours. You weren’t sleeping in a blood-stained cot behind an IV rack. You were playing card games at 2 a.m. with someone who thought being bitten was hilarious.

Midnight walks became a thing. Cold city air, empty rooftops, and arcade runs where Shalnark stole everything that wasn’t nailed to the ground.

You also were never hungry. The blood was always fresh, and sometimes straight from the source if you pouted just right. You hated how fast you adjusted to that.

Still, you couldn’t just fawn over him, joke with him, sit on the couch like you were two normal people in a normal home watching trashy dramas. He’d kidnapped you. That had to mean something. That took some serious apologies and promises to change.

You received neither.

Shalnark didn’t apologize. He didn’t even pretend he would. He treated your resistance like it was a funny inside joke you two were having. And the worst part? After two weeks, you found yourself getting tired of pretending to care.

One night, he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, controller in hand, on the receiving end of some vulgar cusswords from some teens online. You were meant to be sulking. Instead, you sighed, stepped over him, and dropped onto the couch with a heavy, theatrical huff. When he didn’t even comment, you slid sideways and curled up behind him, back pressed to his. His body was warm. 

By the third week, you didn’t wait for him to settle first. You curled up against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Your favorite thing was to be tucked under his arm during movies, legs across his lap while he scrolled through data pads for whatever jobs he actually had to do in between hanging out with you. Your head against his shoulder when the days got slow, his cheek nuzzling against you when you yawned.

It was just… he let you drink more if you acted nice… and he didn’t get mad at you, or throw scalpels at you, so why not? 

The collar didn’t come off, though.

And still, night after night, you kept curling closer.

"You don’t have to act so nervous," Shalnark said, amusement thick in his voice as he leaned back in his ridiculous pink gamer chair, the kind that still had plastic wrapping on the armrests.

You were already halfway curled between his legs, hands awkwardly gripping the edge of the seat, trying to pretend you were not about to do something incredibly intimate in a chair designed for League of Legends marathons.

“I am nervous,” you muttered, fangs just barely pricking through your lip. “Because this is... dumb. And weird. And you’re laughing.”

“I’m not laughing,” he said, definitely laughing. “I’m just enjoying the view.”

You glared up at him.

“If it’s about blood and access,” he’d said earlier, draping himself across the chair like a cat, “you should try the inner thigh. Closest to the femoral artery. Super rich.”

And then, with a grin: “Plus, it’d be cute watching you get flustered.”

You’d of course said no, struggled, pleaded and tried to act tougher than you really were, but when push came to shove and he told you the only way you were getting his blood was if you cooperated, you knew you’d lost. You hated how well he knew your hunger.

Even if, truth be told, you hadn’t been all that secretive about it.

Now, with your face hovering embarrassingly close to his crotch, you were beginning to regret all your life choices.

You took a slow breath. Then another.

And leaned in.

The bite was quick, cleaner than your usual, probably because you were trying so hard not to screw it up. His breath caught, just a little, which surprised you because he barely reacted to pain of any kind, and his hand settled instinctively against your hair, patting it while you took multiple draws of blood, every mouthful sending your entire body into a satiating ecstasy unlike any other. 

It was a hug, it was a meal on an empty stomach, it was a cigarette while drunk, it was plans getting cancelled when you weren't feeling up to them anyhow.

It was perfection.

When you pulled back, your cheeks were flushed, your fangs still tingling from the taste, and you refused to look at him.

“...Happy?” you mumbled, brushing your thumb across your lips.

“Very,” Shalnark said, absolutely beaming. “You look adorable when you're shy.”

“You're not allowed to be smug about this,” you warned, finally daring to meet his eyes and immediately noticing the tent mere inches from your face. “Wha-!”

Shalnark laughed as you tripped back, but all he had to do was lean forward and hook his finger beneath the damned collar you were made to wear, and you were right back where he wanted.

Technically being a vampire gave you more strength, technically. You were like ten times the strength you’d been when you were human. 

Shalnark was stronger than that, way stronger.

He pulled you back into your previous position, head back against his thighs. He sat back straight up again as well, and his lips quirked as you tried to pull away as far from his cock as you could, feeling like this was very quickly going somewhere illicit.

“Let’s deal with this now, okay?” He said cheerily, tugging your face even closer, until your cheek was firmly rubbing against his bulge. “You’re not the only one with an appetite.”

You tried to protest, but Shalnark's grip tightened, holding you firmly in place. Your protests turned to a muffled whimper as he forced your face harder against his hardening bulge. The heat radiating from it was intense, even through the fabric of his pants. It pulsed against your cheek as it grew stiffer and more prominent with each passing second.

"Uhm...Isn’t that… Shouldn’t we…" you tried to say, but the words came out garbled and weak. Shalnark silenced you by pressing your face fully against his clothed erection, now straining against his fly. The musky scent invaded your nostrils, for once overtaking the usual scent of his you followed so blindly. You swallowed. “I feel like we're skipping some steps."

“C’mon,” He said lightly, “usually I don’t have to convince you to suck me off.”

You flushed completely. “Don’t be like that! Drinking blood isn’t supposed to be-”

“Well it is. I think it’s really hot.” 

With his free hand, Shalnark reached down and undid his fly with deliberate slowness, his eyes boring into yours with a wicked gleam. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled out his cock, already leaking with anticipation. It bobbed out obscenely, mere inches from your face, the head smearing pre-cum across your cheek.

Shalnark poked your cheek with his dick a couple times, as if poking you to see how you'd react. “Are you going to be a good girl, or do I need to wait until you get hungry again?” 

His implication made a shiver of indignation roll up your spine. Was he implying you’d whore yourself out for his blood? That wasn’t- you’d never! Not even if you were starving. Not even if Shalnark was really handsome- which he was, admittedly- and really nice, and good to you and…

Once again, you swallowed and side-eyed the cock mere inches from your face. Shalnark grabbed the base of his cock and positioned it close to your lips, leaving just the last little bit of distance for you to close.

You felt heady, you felt extremely hot, you felt confused.

"Can’t you be a good little vampire slut for me?" Shalnark said, petting your head with his free hand. The motion felt familiar, and part of you was genuinely comforted by the affection, even if its goal was so obvious.

Your mind was going a mile a minute, and with big eyes, you kept looking between Shalnark and his cock, trying to figure out what to do.

…

It was probably best…

Best to keep everyone happy, right?

With a whimper of surrender, you felt your jaw unlock and your lips part, accepting Shalnark's cock into your mouth without much reconsideration. As your lips stretched around his girth, you felt yourself begin to drool, your tongue instinctively licking at the weeping slit at the tip of his cock.

Shalnark groaned in satisfaction, his grip on your hair tightening as he slowly pushed more of himself into your hot, wet mouth. "That's it, take it all," he moaned, starting to thrust his hips forward, forcing his length deeper down your throat with each push. 

He set a steady rhythm, fucking your face with long, deep strokes as he enjoyed the feeling of your tight mouth engulfing his cock. Your eyes watered from the intrusion, but you couldn't look away from Shalnark's gleeful grin, not really sure where else to look.

Shalnark continued his relentless pace, fucking your face with deep, powerful thrusts. His balls slapped against your chin with each forward surge, your neck straining to accommodate him. Drool leaked from the corners of your stretched lips, dripping down onto your heaving chest as Shalnark used your mouth like a mere hole for his pleasure.

"Ahaha! I knew you’d be a quick study," Shalnark laughed, sounding euphoric, one of his legs wrapping around your neck, forcing you even closer. His eyes were gleaming with joy, and despite your discomfort, a part of you was happy to see you cause that. "Aren’t you an amazing little thing!"

He knew he was close, his thrusts becoming erratic and forceful. With a final, brutal slam of his hips, Shalnark buried himself to the hilt in your throat just as hot, thick ropes of cum filled your mouth. He groaned long and breathy, holding your head flush against him as spurt after spurt of his seed pumped directly into your stomach.

"Swallow it all down," he commanded breathlessly, his grip on your hair punishing as he ground against your face, working his cock to milk out every last drop.”Weren’t you hungry?”

Reflexively, your throat constricted around him, gagging and swallowing as best you could to obey his order. The taste of his cum was tasteless, like everything was outside of blood, but for the first time in your life, you were kind of relieved at it.

Finally, Shalnark pulled out with a wet pop, his softening cock slipping from your abused lips with a strand of saliva and semen connecting your mouth and his dick. He smirked down at your debauched state, taking in your teary eyes, spit-slicked chin and flushed cheeks with a wicked grin.

"Good girl," he praised, giving your hair a condescending pat, before rolling the chair back and pulling you up to sit on his lap. "Wasn’t that nice?”

Not exactly the word you’d have used, you thought as your body immediately relaxed in his grip, your legs over the handles of the stupid pink chair. 

Embarrassed, you nervously played with the hem of your own shirt, looking anywhere but at Shalnark. In the back of your mind you could feel his cock still beneath you, now softened, but not put away yet. “...I don’t need to do that every time I drink… right?”

He looked surprised at the question, but huffed out a laugh and placed a kiss against the side of your head. “Of course not.”

You sighed in relief. “Ah, I see.”

He continued. “Sometimes I’ll want to do something else. Variety is the spice of life, after all.”