⛧horny but as a devotional act⛧

Legacy: A larger story that will tie the various vampire stories together. Each Emeritus brother will get an individual story, then it's all gonna come together for gnarly, dark shit 🥰

Vampire Terzo II: A wacky romp navigating a relationship with an immortal dumbass.

Vampire Primo: Nasty little man (affectionate) on the hunt for milfs.

Vampire Perpetua II: How would you like to come back to my creepy fuckmansion full of my weird family? The mansion's newly renovated this time, honey (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)

Vampire Secondo: How Secondo Got His Groove Back (With cocaine and a younger man)

Vampire Copia prequel: Hey. Why is he Like That? We're traveling back a couple centuries to find out.

Terzo Alone: If you try to kill Terzo he'll go start his own Ministry! With blackjack! And hookers! (And definitely no corruption or bitterness.)

Subby Terzo II: Back into the Torment Nexus you go, Papa.

Secondo fic nobody asked for, he gonna get subby (There will be a Confessional Booth)

Assorted Copia things: In Frater mode being a little bit of a bastard to an underling, two sexting-based things of him in very rudimentary stages (One where he's a sex creep and one where he's a nice sweetboi), also have a little subby thing for him.

Jealous Papa (Most likely Terzo): He's a bit of a Bad Man who pushed you away but still doesn't want you to be with anyone else. Nasty little man (adoring).

Creature V II: A New England Ghost Story: In ye olden times, a young newlywed is left alone and is suddenly being tormented by a strange nocturnal visitor.

Cheesecake: "Draw me like one of your French girls." - Cardi

Below is my ranking of all Ghost songs, which is as definitive as it is morally and objectively correct:

Make your own list here.

S: Reserved for the songs that I not only love but am constantly putting on. I know all the words. The volume is up. I am jamming. I am living (If You Have Ghosts is S-tier due to its acoustic versions).

A: Songs I do not intentionally put on very often, but never skip. They are so close to S, but they just haven't grabbed my soul the way I need.

B: Most instrumentals end up here because I like them but I'm not reaching for them. Things I usually won't skip, but sometimes have to be in the mood for.

C: They're fine in the background.

Translations Italian in italics, Polish in bold:

Mio sole: my sun Myszko: little mouse (meesh-kah) Cazzo: fuck Amore: (my) love Moja/moje: my/mine (moh-ya/yeh) Puttana/puttanella: whore/slut, little whore Pizda: pussy Perełko: little pearl (peh-roo-kah) Kotku: kitten/little cat Słoneczko: little sun/sunshine (swoh-netch-kah) Obiecuję: promise Sogni d'oro: sweet dreams Dobrze: good Kurwa: shit (kuur-vah (technically it means whore/bitch, but it's an interesting sort of "punctuation" curse, so it can mean a lot of different things in context. It can mean shit, fuck, cunt, etc — it's almost just "generic curse word" from what I can tell. It's interesting.) Scusa: excuse me Bella: beautiful Słońce: sun (swohn-tseh)

Waking up next to —or rather, being awoken by Terzo had yet to lose its charm. Today, like so many of our mornings together, it was with his lips on my shoulder, nudging my hair out of the way with his nose and breathing in the scent of my skin.

“G’morning,” he mumbled into my neck. Without needing to see my face, he knew I’d opened my eyes. His hand slipped down my arm from shoulder to hand, where he laced his fingers into mine, then he nuzzled into my back and let out a precious, contented little sigh. Even though his body always warmed up overnight, his breath still made me shiver.

He pressed a little closer, as though I hadn’t noticed he was hard, and nudged me with his hips.

“Do you just wake up like that?” I yawned.

“Sometimes,” he said, nudging me again, “It is more fun to feel you up for a while, though.” He snaked his arm underneath me and squeezed my breast.

“I’ll bet.”

“I am thinking you may enjoy it too,” he breathed a soft laugh and then his mouth was moving across my shoulder again, a switchback trail of bites left in its wake. I wriggled back against him, tingling in anticipation when I felt him stiffening more, and a moment later he pushed my leg out of the way and slid a cool finger inside me. He shuddered with me, sighed with me, rocked his body in time with mine as he so easily drew waves of pleasure from me with each languid motion. When his fingers were gliding freely he stroked himself a few times and started rubbing the head of his cock along my slit.

He lined himself up and pushed in, purring, “Always so wet for me.” It had been over a week since we first had sex, and even after fucking him at least a dozen times, even wet as I was now, there was still a pleasant, burning stretch taking him inside. He worked in slowly, always more interested in teasing me than immediately pursuing his own pleasure. His own gratification always came, of course, but not until he’d heard me beg and whine for more. When he was inside me, though, it always reminded me why I was so willing to beg in the first place.

I closed my eyes and just let it wash over me: his cock filling me so sweetly, hitting the right spots so perfectly, his hips rolling so eagerly. His thighs slapping against me, forehead pressed into my back as he sighed out praise and adoration, telling me to be loud, to tell him how good he was making me feel and how much I loved being here, like this, with him. Just as easily as he had first charmed me, so too did I affirm all this for him.

The life we’d already started to stitch together was so easy to slip into. He still cared for me like when I could barely move —when I was even more at his mercy than now— except now he would have me sit in his lap as he fed me, usually with his cock inside me. He would casually talk about the news and the weather and something funny he had read, a smirk on his face as I put all my effort into sitting still and trying to focus on anything but him throbbing inside me.

Terzo seemed to know, intuitively, how best to treat me; how I wanted him to torment me. It didn’t feel like we’d known one another for years —it was still too new for that, but there was a familiarity and recognition I’d never felt with anyone else. The man I’d called my captor a week ago, now a lover and simply captivating.

Gripping me tightly, he spilled inside me with a groan and a few more hard thrusts. He only took a moment to catch his breath before moving me onto my back, sliding his hand between my legs and his tongue into my mouth. The sounds he drew from me couldn’t quite drown out the wet sound of his fingers fucking his cum deep into my cunt, but if I was even a little quiet he always took it as a challenge. Smoothly stroking my clit and occasionally dipping back inside me to keep his fingers slick, he made me come so easily.

Another nice thing about waking up like this was that in the morning he usually wouldn’t make me beg for it. Morning-sleepy Terzo doled out orgasms freely and enthusiastically, and it wasn’t uncommon for us to fall back asleep and repeat it all over again.

“So good for me,” he murmured, slipping his fingers between my lips, “Lick them nice and clean, mio sole. We taste good together, hmm?”

He pushed his fingers into my cunt again and propped himself up with his chin on his hand, smiling down at me. On mornings like this, with his hair a mess and early sunlight filtering in, he could look almost angelic. A being sweet and soft and kind; not at all a thing that preyed on humans and survived on their blood. He watched me clean his fingers again, looking like he could melt with happiness.

After all this time holding me his body was warm enough to feel like a living man, and after a lifetime of underwhelming partners I was finally held in such a way to feel alive myself. No one in my past had been like this. No one had been like him.

His lips parted as though to speak and then he looked away, suddenly distracted and mentally moving elsewhere. He kissed me again, long and slow and deep, then curled up against my side and closed his eyes with another happy sigh.

Not for the first time, I wondered what he’d stopped himself saying.

Usually when Terzo had a contemplative morning moment it was quickly forgotten, but he seemed distracted all day. Having difficulty focusing wasn’t unusual for him either, no more than being flirtatious and horny at all hours, but today he seemed to be completely off-kilter. He barely let me out of bed, hands and mouth restlessly wandering my body when he wasn’t napping —another thing he hadn’t done much of since I’d been here.

When his hand started creeping down my thigh for the fifth time, I asked, “Is it a full moon or something?” with a laugh. He raised his head from my chest, looking mystified.

“You’ve been all over me today,” I said, raking his hair back from his face.

“It is surprising that I want you?” he buried his face between my breasts again, greedily mouthing at my flesh before sucking at my nipple. After a moment, he mumbled, “You smell very good today. Just want to…want to have you on my tongue all day, I think.” He moved on top of me, tugging at one nipple and closing his teeth around the other, switching back and forth like he couldn’t bear to neglect either side.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“Little over a week. It can wait. I am eating you today instead.”

“Should I be worried?” I teased.

“Mmhmm.” He released my nipple with a wet smack of his lips and grinned at me, “I am going to wear you out today.” He shifted back, pushing my legs open with his, wriggling his hips firmly into place against mine. “Did you have plans today, myszko?”

“I had a meeting with the governor, actually,” I breathed, turning my head to the side to let him nip along my neck, “and dinner with some fr-” he interrupted me with a kiss, moaning softly as he undid his pants.

“You have to stay here for dinner,” he mumbled against my lips, already rock hard and rubbing his cock along my slit, “Not allowed to leave me hungry.”

He touched his forehead to mine, letting out a shaky exhale as he stroked himself against and along my heat, “K-kurwa, you- maybe it is a full moon,” he laughed breathlessly, “Play with yourself for me, amore, I want to- want to watch you.” He pulled back to his knees, slowly pumping his cock as he looked down at me, already breathing hard through parted lips.

I slid my hand down to obey, our eyes locked until mine rolled back, and he pushed my legs further apart, settling back on his heels as his gaze flicked between my eyes and my cunt. I moaned loudly, biting my lip and pulling on my nipple, writhing and whining for him as he moved faster in time with me.

“T-Terzo…” I whimpered, reaching for him, and his tongue flicked across his wide, breathless smile. He inched closer, rubbing the fat head of his leaking cock through my folds, pushing at my entrance before moving up and down through all my slick again.

“Want me to fuck you, moja myszko?” he breathed, “Want my cock filling you up and fucking you hard?”

“Yes,” I whined. I was used to him having an unnatural amount of control over himself, but he’d never just hovered at the edge of fucking me quite like this.

“Beg,” he said, head tilted imperiously, a smug, hungering grin splitting his face.

“Please,” I whimpered, “Please fuck me, please...fill me, please fuck me hard.” My hips were starting to jerk wildly as I rubbed my clit, and I threw my head back as my climax approached. He fell forward, shoving my hand away as his frantically pumped away.

“Terzo-” I objected with a whine and tried moving my hand back, but he swatted me away again. The arm he was leaning on moved up and his hand tightened in a handful of my hair, tugging my head back so he could mouth at my neck and shoulders.

“Going to fuck you so rough it leaves bruises,” he panted, “Take you however I want, after-” he choked back a groan and bit at my shoulder, a desperate whimper escaping him, as if he was confused about something. I was used to the feel of his teeth by now, had come to crave the dulled little spikes of welcome pain, but felt a flash of worry at how hard he was biting. It felt less like one of his usual playful love-bites and more like the first time I'd felt his fangs; the first time he'd been inside me. He grunted and bit harder, shoving his cock against my opening as he came, spurting messily all over my cunt. Without even pausing for breath, he roughly swiped his fingers through my folds to gather his cum and pushed them into my mouth with another odd, strangled moan.

“Like that?” he was still grinding his hips into me, still hard somehow, “Like the taste of my cum, puttana?” I whimpered and nodded, still rolling my hips, still mourning the lost orgasm. I was barely aware he’d lined himself up when he shoved his cock inside me with a sharp thrust, immediately buried to the hilt.

“Play with yourself again. You want to squeeze my cock nice and tight while I fuck you.” I managed to sound out his name around his fingers and he pushed them further back, growling, “Do it.”

I complied with a whimper, rewarded with his thrusts getting harder and faster alongside my own sounds of pleasure. Another growl rumbled from him as he grasped at my leg, pinning it under his arm and against my chest.

Ever since I was young I'd thought I was naturally inflexible and just had a stiff body, but only a week of Terzo using me as he pleased had revealed that no, I'd just been holding myself that rigidly my whole life. Decades of tension had my muscles coiled tight as a trap about to spring, but now...pleasure, affection, peace, everything felt so easy with him, and my body was already so pliant and adaptable in his capable hands. I still wasn't sure how old he was —centuries, maybe— but every time he touched me I felt rejuvenated. I felt new.

However long he had been walking the earth, he didn't let his age hold him back. Within a day of me finally giving in and admitting I wanted him, he'd figured out exactly where I needed his cock and was relentlessly reminding me of that. He took such joy in pounding into me until I saw stars, until I was only capable of mindlessly crying out for more. On a normal day he fucked me better and harder than I'd ever experienced, and today he was like a man possessed. 

“Like that?” he said again, burying his head in my neck as his thighs started slapping loudly against mine. “My fucking whore, my fucking slut,” he hissed, “Your sweet pizda love getting used like this?” His hand pulled at my hair again as the other left my mouth to wetly slap my breast, and then he grabbed me roughly, pinching my nipple between his knuckles until I gasped and arched my back off the bed. He grabbed my face and made me look at him again.

“Like me using you, my little mouse?” His eyes were wide and wild as he panted cold breaths against me, “Ought to fuck you like a whore every day, use this wet fucking hole the way it wants.”

“Terzo, I-I’m gonna-”

“Come for me,” he commanded, laughing at the instantaneous reaction, fucking me through it hard, then harder through the aftershocks until he groaned and shot inside me.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, trembling and nearly falling on me, “fuck, fuck, perełko, fuck-” He shuddered and wrapped me up tightly in his arms, still fucking into me even as he finally softened.

He raised himself up and looked into my eyes again, wide with panic.

“Did I- was that too much?” he asked, “I-I do not understand what…” he trailed off helplessly, radiating genuine anxiety. He seemed to forget sometimes that I’d signed my entire life over to him —that he, for all intents and purposes, now owned me and could do anything he wanted with me. Even when he would order me to do or say something humiliating, behind the wicked little grin there was always something tender. When he wasn’t actively horny he was quite gentle with me, actually. Affectionate, and even sweet.

He was horny most of the time, though, of course.

“It...was a bit...” I said, slowly, “I liked it, but, are you, uh...are you okay, Terzo?” His eyes were flicking across my face, anxiously searching for confirmation that he’d gone too far.

“Can you let go of my hair?” I winced. His fist instantly loosened. He stared at it and moved his hand away, as though it were some unruly creature, something with a mind of its own that needed to be isolated.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, slowly, clumsily untangling our limbs and bedding, “I…sorry, myszko.” He laid down next to me and pulled me into his arms. “You are okay?”

“Yea, I’m okay,” I said, “Are you?”

He thought for a moment. “I think so? I am feeling a little, eh...discombobulated?” He looked down at me, confused and a touch concerned. I brushed the hair out of his eyes, seeing that they were still roaming around the room as though he were agitated.

“You getting sick or something? Do you get weird during a full moon?”

“I am not a werewolf, myszko.”

“Maybe vampires get loopy at the full moon, how would I know?”

He pulled me tighter, resting my head against his chest. “I do not get loopy.”

“You haven’t eaten in a while.”

“True,” he mused, “But I have gone longer between meals. When you finally arrived here I hadn’t fed in almost two weeks.”

“What’s the longest you’ve gone without eating?”

There was a shift in the air, a slight tension moving through his muscles before he answered, “Seven weeks.” I opened my mouth to ask what prompted such a long starvation, but when he tensed again I kept silent. Thus far, he had been pretty free with information about his past and his nature; if he wanted to keep something to himself, he had a reason. Whether that reason was good or not…

“Well, I’m hungry,” I said, and started sitting up.

He grumbled, “Staying,” and pulled me back.

“Food,” I insisted, poking at him where I could.

“You eat so much,” he muttered, “I am becoming a waiter.”

“Apologies for my weak, human stomach, sir.” I tried to wriggle away and he brought me back with a soft laugh.

“You are sure humans eat multiple times a day? I do not remember eating so much,” he teased, “Has this all been a scam, kotku? Am I just a meal ticket for you?”

“And how much food did you have in 1700s Italy?”

He finally released me, stretching back against the pillows. “Not enough. I would be taller, I think, if I grew up in the past few decades.”

“People were all shorter back then.” I got up and started getting dressed.

“I was tall where I grew up,” he said, a little wistfully. “Not so much now, in America.”

“Where did you grow up, anyway?”

He coyly raised a brow and said, “A foreign land."

“You don’t say.”

“Moja słoneczko,” he patted the bed next to him, “if you have something to ask me, you will have to come over here.”

“Mmhmm.”

“My hearing was better in the 1700s as well,” he smiled, “And I have something here for you to eat.”

I crossed my arms and stepped a little closer, feigning innocence, “Really? What is it?”

“You will have to come closer to find out, my darling.”

“Something there? In the bed?”

“It is under the blankets with me,” he beckoned me closer, snatching my wrist when I was finally close enough and dragging me on top of him.

“I must confess something to you,” he murmured as his nose trailed across my neck and jaw, “It is less something to eat and more something to have in your mouth. Ideally for a while.” He nipped at my earlobe and slid his hands back to my ass, squeezing hard and pushing me against his cock. “But after a while you do get a taste of something. Something I know you like.”

“How are you hard again?” I sighed, and he puffed a laugh against my neck.

“I told you, you smell good today.” He started kissing a cool trail toward my mouth. “Very good.” He groaned in frustration when my stomach audibly rumbled.

“Go get your food. Then hurry back so I can eat too, hm?” He chuckled softly and brushed cold fingers against my neck, letting me know he heard the way his words made my heart beat faster, lingering for a moment before kissing me on the pulse point.

The whole day was like that: his already-high libido inexplicably skyrocketing, seemingly endless energy devoted to my body until I finally had to plead for a break. Spending an entire day having sex may sound fun on paper, but the reality involves a lot more soreness and aching muscles. He offered to give me a massage, and despite my suspicion I accepted, only for him to be unable to keep it even slightly nonsexual.

Apologies were mumbled repeatedly, but he couldn’t keep his hands to himself for more than a few minutes. When I suggested he take a cold shower he pouted.

“A shower is no fun unless you are in there too.”

“It’s not supposed to be fun,” I said, pushing him away from the bed in exasperation. He returned shivering, insisting on warming up next to me, which of course undid any effect the freezing water may have had. By the time he was finally yawning I was so thoroughly worn out I didn’t even bother brushing my teeth, just fell into bed and almost immediately passed out.

I woke up in the middle of the night to muffled moans, feeling a cool tongue on my thighs, and I jolted in surprise.

“Terzo?”

“Oh,” he sounded surprised too, for some reason, “Ah, you woke up. Ah.”

“What are you...In my sleep, man?”

“It is...not what it looks like?” I couldn’t make him out in the dark but there was a sheepishness to his voice that was brand new to me.

“Were you going down on me?” I rubbed my legs together. I was wet; he must have been doing it for a while.

“I, eh…” he trailed off.

“Look, I don’t really mind, even after today, but that’s not something we talked abou-”

“Sorry,” he said quickly, “I just…”

“What?”

He made some weak explaining noises for a few moments, then simply dove at me, shoving my legs open with a desperate growl.

“Hey, whoa-”

His tongue was on me instantly, but not just on my clit, and not like he was trying to pleasure me, exactly. He was licking everywhere, moaning against me as he roamed, almost like…like he was cleaning me.

“Oh.” I reached an exploratory hand down and he nipped at it. “Hey!” I yelped.

“Sorry,” he panted, and his tongue was immediately on me again, licking a wide stripe along the crease between my thigh and my lips. I sniffed what I’d gathered on my finger. I wasn’t wet; I was bleeding. The way he was moaning against me was exactly how he’d sounded when he drank from me.

“Terzo, my peri- ooh,” I faltered when he slipped two fingers into me, returning his tongue to my clit a moment later.

“I will- I will make you come, amore,” he said, quickly, “Obiecuję. I just- first I-” He whimpered this time as his tongue traveled again.

“This is-” I gasped, “Are you really...nng.” He moaned in response and pushed a third finger inside me before speeding them up.

He kept his word; he did make me come. Eventually.

It was so drawn out that even before he had four fingers in me I was already begging him for release. I tried touching myself because he was taking maddeningly long, but he nipped at my hand, growling, saying “Mine.”

Even after my orgasm he kept pumping his fingers in and out of me, not coming up to kiss me as he usually would —not that I particularly wanted to kiss him at the moment. When his fingers left me I could hear him sucking them clean before he stuck his tongue inside me, panted as he greedily worked to get every bit of blood he could before finally pulling away.

“What the fuck?”

“Sorry, I-”

“Did you really do that?”

He groaned, “Sorry,” again and slipped his fingers back inside me.

“Terzo, what-”

“I can’t...sorry, I…” he was looking down, mesmerized by his fingers sliding in and out of me, no doubt very colorfully. I tried to close my legs and he pushed them back apart.

“Hey-”

“Please,” he said, very quietly, “just...just let me…”

“Dude,” I wriggled away from him and he let out a soft little cry like I’d hurt him. His bloody fingers were immediately in his mouth and he reached his free hand toward me as I rolled out of bed and backed toward the bathroom. In the dim light I saw his arms fall limply to his sides.

He stared silently at me and a sudden flash of alarm rippled through me, making my skin prickle with a kind of fear I’d never known. His eye, the sinister one, had either caught a light source or was...glowing.

“Terzo?” I wavered. He said nothing, but his head moved slightly and for a split second his other eye —the normal one, or so I’d thought— was shining like a cat’s. I thought he’d been up on his knees but I realized he was slowly moving. He’d sunk into a crouch without me noticing, and he had reached the edge of the bed.

A terrified whimper squeaked from me, and something in the air surrounding him responded. The low, rumbling growl of a big cat, something primal and predatory, wormed past my inner ear and instantly sent adrenaline roaring down my spine. When I felt the cool tile of the bathroom under my feet I startled, unaware I’d still been moving away from him.

He was close now, almost within arm’s reach. I hadn’t seen him take a single step.

I slammed the bathroom door shut and threw the lock, knowing it wouldn’t stop him if what I thought was finally happening was finally happening.

“Open the door.”

He sounded completely hollowed out.

I desperately shook my head, not fully aware that he wouldn’t be able to see the gesture. The doorknob rattled loudly.

“Open the door.”

The commanding voice, the one that had been so dreadful during my initial captivity, that had since become something thrilling and desirable, now made my heart freefall into my stomach. I hadn’t wanted to resist him for days now; maybe that’s why I managed to this time.

I heard a distinctly metallic creaking, and another whimper shrilled from me as I backed away. I heard the knob turn again, then the crunch and splinter of the hardware being twisted from the door. It swung open with a soft creak.

It looked like he was walking completely normally —albeit with his face covered nose-to-chin in my blood— but he did it in complete silence. All the reflective surfaces caught little bits of moonlight and illuminated the room, and his silhouette made it undeniable: His eye did have a glow to it.

I jammed myself into the corner, sliding to the floor between the clothes hamper and the glass wall of the shower, balled up and cowering.

Trying to accept that I was going to die.

“Please, please don’t do this, Terzo, please…”

He sank to his knees in front of me and softly asked, “Why would you lock me out?”

“You’re scaring me,” I whispered, “Please don’t kill me. Please, Terzo.”

“Why would I kill you?” he wondered, faintly, “I only want to taste you.”

“Terzo! Stop, please!”

He had been reaching for me but now he froze.

“I am scaring you,” he murmured, as if he hadn’t heard me say that only a moment before, “I...I am sorry. I- please, I...sorry. Sorry.” He slumped back to his heels, eyes still on me, now only shining with a confused sheen of tears.

“Mio sole,” he whispered, his voice finally sounding like his own again, “did I hurt you?” I shook my head and he sagged with relief. I flinched when he reached for me again, and even in the dim light I could see the pain on his face.

“Perdonami, amore, perdonami,” he said softly, “Please forgive me, I would never…”

“Never?” I said, tears rolling down my cheeks, “Never?”

“I would never-”

“You were going to kill me.”

“No, myszko, no, I-”

“You asked if you hurt me. You didn’t know.”

He didn’t say anything, just slid back into a sitting position and stared wide-eyed at me. Then he sniffed the air and I practically felt his gaze lock between my legs.

“You need to shower. Now.”

When I didn’t move he slowly stood and held out a hand to me.

“Now,” he repeated, his insistence beginning to edge on desperation, “please.”

“I-I can get up by myself,” I said, shakily, still not trusting him to let me touch me again. He was still as a statue, just staring at me again, but without the overwhelming emptiness that had enshrouded him mere moments ago. I dared to say, “Go away,” but couldn’t keep it from pitching up into a question.

He nodded, kept nodding like he was agreeing with someone who was still speaking, as he turned away. He didn’t leave the room though, just took a knee in front of the sink and started rummaging around the cupboard underneath.

Still frozen in place, I could only take in the scene in front of me: The man I called my lover, nude in the moonlight, hair disheveled, smears of fucking menstrual blood across half his face, digging around under the bathroom sink a few minutes after I’d been certain he was going to rip me to shreds.

“Ah,” he muttered, slapping a box onto the sink, “here we are.” He replaced the other things he’d pulled from the cupboard and walked back to me, holding it out. Tampons.

“...Why do you have these?”

His shoulders twitched into a tight shrug. “People were working in the house for months before we moved in. These were here when I got here.” He sounded so normal again. He shook the box at me, and when I still didn’t move he sighed and set it down on the floor near my foot. He left without another word, but I did hear him trying to make the door close properly again before he hissed with annoyance and gave up.

I could hear him muttering and humming to himself, receding back into the bedroom, and I finally let out a long, shuddering breath. It took a few tries to climb to my feet, so badly were my legs shaking. All I could think of was him staring at me from the bed, so still and quiet even as he stalked toward me. I shivered and my heart started racing again.

I’d been looking right at him and hadn’t seen him move.

Just like when he first drank from me: he’d been sitting at the other end of that sofa and somehow kept getting closer. I hadn’t even felt him put his arm around me; I just blinked and it was draped across my shoulders. Another blink and his hand had been on my knee.

Even that first time, though, with his fangs in my neck and my blood pouring down his throat, I hadn’t felt as gripped with terror as tonight. I knew he was strong, but didn’t know he could rip apart a door.

And I knew he wanted my blood. His breath always hitched if something made me bleed —usually him, with what I’d thought were accidental bites and scratches but was now unsure about. But he’d never...changed like that.

I thought I was safe here, but if he wanted to kill me I could be dead before I knew what happened.

The light flicked on and I yelped in surprise. He was in the doorway, still mostly in shadows.

“I am going into the woods for a bit,” he said, then melted back into the darkness.

I heard the bedroom door open and close, then only a few moments later heard the door to the outside —the one almost directly below our room— slam shut. I couldn’t help but peek out the window; he was already at least a hundred feet from the house, moving swiftly and silently. He disappeared from sight almost immediately. Still nude.

I almost didn’t want to shower, didn’t want to be to wet and naked in a slippery enclosed space in case he changed his mind and came back for me. But if he came back I couldn’t do anything to stop him.

I heard a drip and looked down. A spatter of blood on the tiles.

He’d probably lick that off the floor in his state. I wiped it clean and got in the shower.

When I returned to the bedroom he was stretched out in bed, reading by the low light of the bedside lamp.

“Perełko," he greeted me so very calmly, marking his book and setting it aside.

“Terzo,” I said, warily.

“Come here,” he said, “It is alright.”

“Are you…” I paused, “back to normal?”

“Yes. Come,” he beckoned me closer with a tired smile, then moved over and patted the bed. “Please.” He looked normal again, and the instinctive fear that had gripped me earlier was gone, but I clearly didn’t come as close as he wanted.

“Please, let me explain,” he said, “Let me apologize.”

“So explain from there,” I said. He sighed and raked his hair back. “Why is your hair wet?” I demanded, now realizing his face was clean too.

“I swam in the lake for a while.”

“You mean the duck pond?”

“There is a lake about a mile away from here.”

I stared hard at him. In maybe twenty minutes he’d run two miles, swam for “a while,” and still had time to change and get comfortable in bed with a book. Until now, all I’d known about this side of him was that he drank blood, had good hearing, and could use some kind of hypnotic ability. The ongoing revelation of tonight —that I knew almost nothing about his actual nature— shot a chill through me. It was so easy to think he was just a human with...some quirks.

“I am sorry for frightening you,” he said, softly adding, “That has never happened before. I...I did not realize what I was doing was scaring you.”

“Me backing away from you and locking the door wasn’t clear.”

“I am not sure how to explain,” he said, “It was as if...I don’t know. It felt like...I was normal, everything was fine, and then you shut me out for no reason. I know now why you did-” he hastily added, “but at the time it felt very sudden. Like you had suddenly decided to reject me.”

“I was rejecting you. You weren’t listening to me. You wouldn’t leave me alone.”

He winced and looked away. “I know,” he said quietly, “I do not know...I don’t know what happened. It...it was madness. It just came over me. It...seemed like you wanted…” he trailed off, avoiding my eyes.

“What if it happens again?”

He opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated.

“Were you going to kill me, Terzo?”

“I do not think so.”

When I stared at him he rocked his head back and forth, uncertain, but finally saying, “I only remember wanting to taste you. But not the urge to actually, eh...drink,” he finally looked at me, softly continuing, “I needed to taste you. It woke me up, the smell, and I just...had to.”

I finally sat down. “How have you not gone berserk in a crowd yet? I mean, you have to have been around someone on their period before.”

“Of course,” he said with a wry smile, “and I knew it was coming for you, but-”

“What do you mean you knew it was coming?”

“I do not think you understand the things I can smell, perełko. Your scent changes.”

“Apparently I don’t understand a lot of the things you can do,” I curtly said. He winced again and looked away.

“Okay, so you knew it was coming before I did, but this still happened.”

“As I said, this has not-”

“Hasn’t happened before, I got that.”

“You are asking me things I do not have an answer for. All I can tell you is I had barely opened my eyes before I had my tongue on you, and I could not get enough of it. It...it was the whole world, mio sole. Everything I ever needed or wanted was between your legs.” His lips quirked into a tight smile, “More than usual.”

“And now?”

“I still smell it.”

“...And?”

“I want it, but...at a manageable level.”

“Am I going to wake up like that again?”

“I do not think so.”

When my mouth twisted unhappily all he did was helplessly shrug.

“I cannot say if I will wake up like that again,” he said, “but...I think it will be okay.”

“Haven’t you ever...I mean, you’ve had relationships before.”

“I have.”

“So...what? You never happened to be with someone while they were on their period?”

“I have.”

I stared at him again.

“You are wanting to ask if I have tasted that blood before.”

I nodded.

“Yes.”

I groaned, “Then what the fuck, man?” and he shrugged helplessly again.

“I wish I knew, perełko.”

“Just...I know there’s blood, but it’s...you know it’s not just blood, right? There’s...tissue in it.”

“I am extremely aware of that,” his mouth twitched into an uncomfortable smile, “I am very familiar with what else is in menstrual blood.” I couldn’t help but crinkle my nose in disgust. I wasn’t grossed out by the functions of my own body —it had been happening for most of my life now, after all, but there was a line.

He scratched at his chin for a moment, his voice dropping low and quiet when he spoke again. "When I drank from you I almost killed you, perełko. I...do not trust myself to do it again. But I want to. Very badly. This is your blood, and it does not hurt you to take, and I get to pleasure you. It pleasures both of us.”

“Giving me head isn’t the issue here.”

“Well...I’m sorry. I do not know what else to say,” he sighed. “What do I do?”

I wanted to say, “Find me a bank vault to sleep in every month,” but what came out was, “Let me think about it.”

He smiled wistfully. “Do you trust me enough for me to sleep in here?”

“...For now.”

“I am glad to hear that.” He put his hand on my knee, brushing his thumb against my skin for a moment before moving over and making more room for me. He yawned and patted the bed again, then pulled off his shirt. I went to hang up my bathrobe and returned to see him stretching with another big yawn, relaxing into a soft nude tableau in the moody light.

On its own, his body was nothing extraordinary. He was slender and a little short, no visible muscle despite the frightening strength apparently coiled under his skin. Hair thatched across his pale skin from chest to ankle, the same inky black as on his head, just as fun to pull on. His cock was unassuming when soft, doubly nestled in foreskin and more thick hair. But even now, with the memory of his fearsome reveal so fresh in my memory, I loved looking at him. He turned and smiled at me, obviously hearing my heart thump.

“Something on your mind, myszko?”

“Shut up.”

He grinned and pulled the blankets away for me, sweeping them back over us as he cuddled up against me. When I turned off the light he sighed contentedly against my shoulder and hugged me tight.

“Sorry,” he murmured, “Again. I hope you know I would never...I never want to frighten you. Or make you unhappy.”

“I know."

He found my hand, leaned over, and brought my fingers to his lips.

“Please forgive me,” he said softly.

“Probably will,” I yawned.

“You are very tolerant of me.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Sogni d’oro, amore”

“Night.”

Maybe it was my body remembering the surge of adrenaline summoned by the man curled up against my back, or maybe I just wasn’t ready to fully drop my guard again. Whatever the cause, I couldn’t sleep. And even though we’d both been yawning, it didn’t seem Terzo could either. The two of us kept shifting, trying to get comfortable, and it wasn’t long before I felt his hips moving away slightly. Not enough for me to miss that his cock was stiffening. When I took a few deep breaths to calm myself, he came closer, pressing that thick cock against me.

“Trouble sleeping?”

“Mm,” I said noncommittally, trying to ignore that he could hear my heart.

“Mm?” The arm he’d slung over me moved slightly, his hand sliding from my belly to my breast. His lips, cool against my skin, started making their way across my shoulders as he rocked his hips against me, letting me feel how hard he was already. His fingers closed around my nipple as he squeezed my breast, pulling and rolling it between his thumb and fingers, finally making me give up a soft sigh when my cunt clenched tight.

“I want to make you come again,” he said, his voice soft and breathy against my neck as his hand left my breast and moved to my thigh, “You will let me?”

When I nodded he pulled my legs open, slipping his cool fingers down before pausing.

“Huh,” he said, clearly amused, “First time ever that you are dry here.”

“It’s the tampon.”

“I know,” he rolled away and I heard him looking through the drawer in the nightstand, returning after a moment, his fingers even colder than usual now that they were coated in lube. He spread it as he spread me, teasingly avoiding my clit until he applied more.

Moving slowly to make me desperate and loud; that was his usual way, but now as soon as I was nice and slick he gently stroked my clit with his finger, not wasting any time with the normal teasing and denial. He breathed a laugh when I whimpered loudly, moving my hips so eagerly I was almost just grinding against his hand.

“Feel good?” his teeth raked against my shoulder when I moaned in response. “Dobrze. I want to hear you come for me, amore. I want to hear it a few times.”

I was no stranger to his fingers, but this was the first time he’d ever been unable to slide into me and draw the pleasure out. I don’t know why I was surprised that he was good at it, why I thought it would be a limitation for him and why I even considered the possibility that only touching my clit would hinder him. I was so used to him freely fucking me however he wanted, prolonging every possible moment, that it snuck up on me. Every deft movement felt electric, his slender fingers expertly guiding me through wave after wave of pleasure. He explored my neck and shoulders with his lips, laughing softly when he made me come and immediately continued, pushing me over the edge a second time.

“Fuck,” I panted, “Terzo, it’s- it’s too much, I-” his fingers relaxed but stayed nearby, gently stroking between my legs, keeping me hot and sensitive. I could feel his cock twitching against me, pressed against my ass and pulsing every time he rolled his hips against me. When I reached between us and started rubbing my hand along the length, he inhaled sharply and groaned into my shoulder.

“One more,” I heard the smile in his voice, even as he thrust into my hand, “At least one more, hm?”

It ended up being two more, in quick succession. When I finally pushed his hand away he laughed, and while I was catching my breath he moved my leg again, shifting me more onto my stomach. He slid his hand over my cheeks and squeezed a handful before giving me a spank.

“I know where I want to fuck you tonight,” he said, voice husky as a slick finger rubbed my ass, “Want it here, myszko?”

“Mmhmm,” I groaned, still blissed out. He pressed his finger in immediately, his breath catching as I moaned into my pillow. He worked in and out easily, pausing for more lube before slipping another finger inside me.

“You are nice and relaxed, eh?” he murmured, “I made you feel good?”

“So good,” I sighed. He breathed out a laugh as he got on top of me, squeezing my legs between his as I heard the slick sound of him getting his cock ready for me. Even relaxed as I was, there was no way I couldn’t feel the stretch as he pushed into my ass, breathing out a soft “fuck,” as he slowly made his way in, lying over me and letting out his own quiet whimpers as he sank deeper with every slow thrust.

I loved it like this, feeling how hard his hips flexed at this angle to get every inch inside me, his weight pressing down on me as he rested his forehead on my shoulder, shuddering cool breaths against my skin.

“You take me so easily,” he breathed into the back of my neck, “like we were made for each other,” His hips started moving faster, struggling to find a rhythm at first, and he said, “Stick your ass up for me, perełko. You want me to get nice and deep in you, right?”

“Yes,” I moaned. After a few more thrusts he grumbled with irritation and grabbed at a pillow, jamming it under me to me prop me up. The new angle made me whimper, “Oh fuck,” and he moaned in agreement.

“That- cazzo- you like that, eh?” he twisted his fingers into my hair, “Like my cock stretching your ass?”

“I love it,” I said breathlessly.

“Say it.”

“I-I love your cock-” I whimpered as he interrupted me with a few hard thrusts, “stretching my...my ass.”

“Want it harder, mia puttanella?” he purred, “Hm?” I could only nod and moan an affirmative that kicked into a desperate whine as his thighs started clapping loudly against mine.

“Kurwa- you- ah-” when he couldn’t seem to string a sentence together anymore his hand went around my neck and turned my head to kiss him. Both of us whimpering madly, tongues dancing to their own messy rhythm as we got lost in one another. He broke away with a groan, wrapping his arms around me, snaking a hand to my breast, resting his head against me as he sped toward the finish.

“You-” he was panting, “just- just a perfect fit, I belong inside you,” he moaned into my hair, nearly louder than me now, “and you are mine, somehow- mine, you are mine, mine to love and-” he abruptly cut himself off with a strange, desperate whimper, then I felt him spill inside me and he slowed his hips to their final, parting thrusts.

I knew “amore” meant love, but I also knew how dramatic he could be, how flamboyant in his admiration of the world he could be. He would probably call a lamp amore under the right circumstances. But the way he said it —not just in English so I couldn’t mistake it, but his voice underneath, too...It didn’t seem like nothing. It didn’t seem like something idly said and forgotten soon after.

When my heart pounded and he didn’t comment on it, I had to wonder.

“Mm,” he pressed a soft kiss into my shoulder, “Love the feel of you, myszko,” he mumbled against my skin, still inside me and making soft, sweet little sounds as he caught his breath. He squeezed me into a tight hug before flopping onto his back with a satisfied sigh. I stayed where I was, weighing the last few minutes against the last few weeks.

“Mine to love and-”

The next morning, I had just taken out my tampon and was about to throw it away when a thought occurred. A problem. I dug through the bathroom vanity, then called for Terzo.

“You don’t like alcohol right?” I’d wrapped the tampon in some toilet paper but his eyes still locked on it immediately.

“Right…” he said, clearly distracted. 

“Get me some, please. Rubbing alcohol, even.” He looked at me curiously, flicked his eyes back to the tampon, then nodded and left.

A few minutes later he returned, asking, “What are you up to?” as he handed it over.

He stared blankly as I held the tampon over the sink and doused it with the rubbing alcohol. I tossed it in the trash, washed my hands, then turned around and crossed my arms. He was still staring, face empty.

“Making sure you don’t dig through the trash like a raccoon.”

There was a very long silence.

“You are clever. I am irritated.”

“You would have, wouldn’t you.”

He chewed at his lip and scowled at me.

“Gross, dude.”

He let out a petulant hmph and went back to the bedroom to sulk.

He managed to wait another day before asking, “Can I try again?” He was on his hands and knees, lips wandering my body, gradually making their way down. I tensed, indecisively biting my lip.

“I think I will be okay this time,” he said. His hand slid up my inner thigh, just brushing a finger between my legs. “Please,” he mumbled against my skin, “you smell so good, please.”

“What if you...lose control again?”

“Start yelling for my brother. Secondo.”

“Why the hell would I-”

“He knows about it,” he murmured, trailing kisses along my thigh, his cool tongue slipping against my skin. I sat up, pulling away from him.

“Myszko-”

“What do you mean ‘he knows about it?’” I demanded.

He looked perplexed. “I told him…?”

“So your brother knows my period made you lose your mind.”

“I wanted to know if it had ever happened to him!” he protested, “How am I supposed to know what happened on my own?”

“...I see your logic, but in the future if you’re going to talk about my body with your weird brothers, could you at least ask me first?”

“Oh,” he said, a little sheepishly, “Ah. Yes. Sorry.” He reached out for my leg and gave me a reassuring squeeze, “Sorry, mio sole.”

“So...what did he say?”

“He told me to ask Primo,” he sighed, then moved closer to plant a soft kiss on my knee. “I did not feel like it, so I just told him to keep an ear out.” His hand was resting on the opposite knee, waiting for me to let him push them apart. His eyes were locked between my legs as he murmured, “Can I? Please?” against my thigh.

I got out of bed and looked at him. He was pretending very hard to be keeping cool, but the desperation pouring from him was almost palpable. Even disregarding his frightening abilities, our agreed living situation —our arrangement— meant he didn’t have to ask. He could take whatever he wanted from me at any time. Yet here he was, practically begging permission to touch what was essentially his property, his face drawn in a silent plea until I nodded.

He broke into a wide grin, and when I returned from the bathroom he’d taken off his shirt and was lying on his back with his fingers laced behind his head.

“What are you doing?”

With his eyes closed, he smiled and said, “Readying myself to be a throne.”

“So you want me…”

“Right here,” he gestured at his face. When I positioned myself over him he sighed happily and looked into my eyes, smiling serenely as his tongue flicked against me. He pulled me more firmly down against him almost immediately, moaning a “thank you” before losing himself.

“Terzo.”

He didn’t respond, just kept moving his tongue over me like it was his sole purpose in life.

“Terzo!”

“Mmf. What?”

“I think I’m done for now.” I’d shifted onto my back a while ago, and now I moved away, just sliding back a little along the mattress. He stretched to keep his hands on me.

“Oh. I-” he scooched closer, eyes briefly flicking to mine before going back to my cunt. “You are sure?”

“It’s been almost two hours,” I pointedly said. He blinked.

“I am fine, amore.”

“Okay? Wasn’t about you there, to be honest-”

“I thought perhaps you are concerned about, eh, my jaw, maybe? Or my tongue or something?” His hand rubbed my knee and he smiled at me, more brightly and enthusiastically than I’d ever seen, “But I am very willing to continue.”

“I got that.”

He hesitated before saying, “You are sure you do not-”

“I’m sure.”

“Not even a little?” His eyebrows swept up to match his pout. “A few more minutes?”

“Terzo…”

“I did not know my time was up,” he said, draped in the mourning of a man who has lost everything in the blink of an eye, “It is sudden, you know.”

“Two. Hours.”

“Okay, okay,” he sulked for a moment, then tentatively asked, “May I take a goodbye ta-”

“Dude.”

“...Sorry.” He sighed and moved up to sit next to me, still staring longingly between my legs.

I cleared my throat to drag his attention away. “Your face is a crime scene right now.”

“Eh? Oh.”

I pointed to the bathroom. “Shower. Please.”

He sighed again. “Okay.”

He left for the bathroom and I followed a moment later, just leaning in the doorway and watching him. The sounds he'd made in the past two hours were like nothing I'd ever heard from him, but here he was, meekly setting his own powerful wants aside in submission to mine. In a normal relationship respecting your partner's wishes wouldn't be so noteworthy, but "normal" had left my life the moment our eyes first met. Terzo was obsessed with my pleasure, yes, but he was more than happy to be selfish when it came to my body. He had to still be feeling guilty about frightening me so badly; why else wouldn't he simply pin me down and devour me to his heart's content? That he'd even waited a day before asking spoke volumes.

He turned off the sink and stood straight, looking at me in the mirror with a smile on his freshly-cleaned face, then waved me over and put his arms around me.

“Thank you, perełko,” he murmured, planting a kiss on my head, “I know it is strange for you.” He rubbed my shoulders and went to turn on the shower. “But you see? I did not, eh...lose my mind this time.”

“Very happy about that.”

He grabbed my hands and pulled me to him, then started unbuttoning my shirt. “I am happy to do that when you are not bleeding, you know.”

“What?”

“Lick you for hours.” He smiled and unfastened his pants, following me into the shower. He slipped his hands around my waist and his lips to my neck, murmuring, “I like the taste of you, and I like the sounds you make.” He moved me toward the wall, his cock already hard and throbbing as he pressed my body against the wall, and I shivered at the sudden cold of his body and the tiles both.

His voice was low when he said, “Especially the sounds you make because of me. Those, I love.” I could feel him stroking himself as his other hand drifted from my hip.

“Stop trying to be sneaky.” I swatted at the hand curving along my butt and inching toward my cunt, “Keep your fingers to yourself.”

“You misjudge me,” he pressed me more firmly against the wall, laughing softly in my ear, “I am innocent.”

“Sure you are.”

He nipped at my ear and laughed again, “I have no choice then, eh? I will have to put my cock inside you instead.”

“I guess so,” I sighed as he slid between my legs, not inside me yet but letting me feel him.

“Stick your ass out for me, mia puttanella. You want it, don’t you? Show me.” He gave me a spank, roughly grabbing me as he slid his cock through my slit, then his hand slapped onto the wall next to mine.

“Say it,” he purred, the tip of his cock just catching on me.

“I want it,” I gasped, “Fuck-”

Almost growling, he said, “Beg for it.”

My vision blurred momentarily; he rarely used that voice multiple times in quick succession. He didn’t need to.

I squeezed my eyes shut to steady myself. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me,” I whimpered, “I-I need your cock, please, please.”

He pushed in slowly, just barely, then nipped at my earlobe.

“Told you to beg, mia puttanella,” he laughed a little, “You want all of it, yes?”

“Yes- fuck, Terzo, yes, I-”

“Beg.” This time I whimpered because the room spun, but I shut my eyes again and pleaded. He grunted when he buried himself to the hilt, pushing me fully against the wall and breathing hard into my neck as he fucked me.

It wasn’t unusual for him to get rough with me —we both liked it— but how rough he was getting was different. Ragged breaths accompanied each aggressive thrust, each slap of his thighs against mine echoing loudly against the tiles, and the stream of words coming from him almost angry in their intensity.

“You fucking love it, your hot little cunt needs me to fuck it hard every day, you love having this fucking hole filled up don’t you, my fucking slut, my precious little whore, begging for my cock every fucking day, give it to you nice and hard the way you like it, tell me you love being my whore, love that I own your cunt, you fucking love that you belong to me, don’t you, beg for it, beg even more, beg for every inch of my cock, beg for me to fuck you nice and rough, fucking-”

The tiles under his hand suddenly crunched, and the heel of his palm pushed into the wall.

“Shit!” I gasped, “Terzo-”

He slowed for a moment, then panted, “Ig- ignore it. Doesn’t matter.” He grabbed my chin and turned me just enough to kiss him, messy and whining as he desperately rutted into me, filling me with each sharp thrust. I couldn’t think about the dubious structural integrity of the tiles pressed against my cheek, could only cry out against them as his cock mercilessly worked in and out. He moved both hands to my hips, digging his fingers in and brutishly slamming us together, whimpering into my shoulder until he finally emptied into me with a deep, rumbling growl. He panted against me, still pressing me into the wall, still buried inside me and trembling.

“Fuck,” he breathed, “I- fuck,” he made a few more weak thrusts, whimpering quietly into my hair. “You felt so good,” he groaned, “I- I just…” His hands moved across my body, hugging me tightly against him, “The- the humidity in here...I could smell you so strongly.”

“Ohh…”

“Sorry,” he said quietly, “I did not mean...if that frightened you, I…”

“It didn’t scare me, just...worried me,” I said. I was used to all manner of filth pouring out his mouth, but was also seeing a lot of new behaviors from him in the past few days. “Um, the hot water is going to run out soon though, so…”

He whimpered again, sadly, and slowly pulled out of me. I saw the water running from our bodies turn pink, and his muscles tensed.

“...The smell again?”

“Yes,” he said, and for a moment his grip on me tightened. “I think this was perhaps not my best idea.”

“Most of it was fun.” I lightly said as I grabbed the soap, trying to wash myself in the water that was cooling by the moment. I glanced back at him and he was just staring at the hole in the wall.

“Hey,” I nudged him, “wash up.”

He mumbled something, absentmindedly complying as I stepped out. He followed soon after, looking sourly at the tampon applicator I was rinsing off in the sink.

He coughed and mumbled, “Scusa, bella,” his eyes still locked on the bit of plastic in my hand until he left the room with nothing but a towel around his waist. He wasn’t in the bedroom, and didn’t return until after I was dressed.

“I am being made to accompany my brother to a hardware store,” he sighed as he opened the closet, “He is coming up to take a look at that first. And the door. And I, eh...must speak with Primo.” He cleared his throat, looking almost embarrassed as he threw some clothes on.

“Copia is handy with these sort of things. He can at least see if we need to call someone else in,” he said. “Do not worry about him. He is...shy. He will not say much, probably.” He kissed me on the cheek and hurried out.

I sat down heavily on the bed and addressed the empty room: “Fucking hell."

It was flattering in its own way, that he seemed to lose his fucking mind like this because of me, but the intensity was...a little much. He said I could call Secondo if he scared me again, but if he was twisting metal and breaking through tile with his fingers, what could his brother do? I didn’t even know if he was always this strong or if it was because of this particular madness.

At the sound of a timid knock I smoothed my hair and braced myself to meet another member of his odd family. The door cracked open and a man with light, wavy hair and the same dissimilar eyes entered nose-first.

“Eh, hello,” he said with a little wave, “I am here for- Terzo said…”

“Yea, the uh...the bathroom,” I waved back. Terzo and Secondo —the only other one I’d met— both carried themselves with so much confidence, but this one walked through the room as if I would start screaming and throwing things at him at any moment, as if he were sorry for merely existing. His eyes flicked to mine for just a moment before he looked at the hole that had been ripped out of the door, then disappeared into the bathroom.

The little metal box he’d been carrying, barely the size of a child’s lunchbox, creaked open and I heard some exploratory thuds and scuffs, followed by the clatter of tile hitting the shower floor and some muttering. When I went to check on him he was holding a precarious handful of shattered tile as he poked at a much larger hole in the wall.

“Oh, shit,” I said.

“Mm,” he agreed, “It is not too bad, though. Not as bad as it looks, I mean.” He sounded much more confident talking to the wall.

“I...I didn’t know he could- I mean, we-”

He stooped to close his little toolbox. “We know about it.”

“You...know about…”

He met my eye again for just a moment and tapped his nose. He paused a moment before tapping his ear, too. I could only imagine the shade of red my face immediately assumed.

Can they smell me across the house? Just how much can they hear?

He cleared his throat and looked away. “Well,” he said, awkward again, “If you will, eh...excuse me.” He started to shuffle past me, still holding the broken tiles, when I saw a dark splotch on his hand.

“Are you- I think you’re bleeding.”

“Eh?” He twisted his hand around to get a better look, “So I am.” It was so dark I could barely see any red in it. I couldn’t help my curiosity.

“Do you all have blood like that?”

“Eh, yes? I mean, yes.”

“Why’s it so dark?” I stepped closer and tilted my head for a better look.

“You will have to ask a doctor.”

“It’s almost black,” I frowned, “It doesn’t taste like human blood, right? Can you drink it?”

“Eh...em…” he seemed more uncomfortable than ever as I peered closer. My hand reflexively moved to touch it, but even though I stopped myself he still startled back.

“Sorry,” I said quickly, “I...sorry.” His eyes had widened and showed no signs of returning to normal.

“It is no problem,” he stiffly said.

I apologetically said, “Just curious,” and he nodded and hurried out.

“What are you writing, słoneczko?”

Typically on a rainy afternoon like today we would be curled up together, but I was sitting apart from him, cross-legged on the bed and occasionally looking him over. He was reading, as usual, and I had started outlining something important in a little notebook I’d found.

“Just working on a little project,” I said, showing him the page.

“’Vampire notes?’” he read with a smile, “Am I to be a specimen?”

“You are.”

He stretched out and ran a hand up my thigh, quirking a flirtatious eyebrow at me, “You will be examining me very closely, then.”

“I will.”

“The last time you investigated me turned out very well for me,” he grinned, “I accept.”

I poked his stomach and said, “You can’t kidnap me again. You’ll have to get another move.”

“Perełko, please,” he scoffed, “I have moves. Many of them. And ‘kidnapping?’”

“Terribly sorry, my lord, you abducted me.”

“I was your captor, my darling, not your abductor,” he scoffed again, then snickered when I smacked his shoulder. “How did you write for a living, not knowing the meaning of words? English is your first language, yes?”

“Whatever,” I grumbled, irritated that I had mixed up those words, and unsure how.

“I am ready for my interview,” he said, very solemnly, giving me a wink when I scowled at him.

“First question: Why do you have normal teeth?”

When he quizzically cocked his head, I elaborated, “When you drank from me you bit right through my skin, with like, perfect puncture wounds. But your teeth are normal.”

“My teeth are not normal, myszko,” he furrowed his brow, looking slightly amused.

When I said, “Show me,” he gave me a broad, uncharacteristically sunny smile. “They look normal,” I said.

“Give me your hand. And keep still.” Very carefully, he guided my finger underneath the upper teeth. I jerked back in surprise.

“What the fuck?”

He ran his tongue along his teeth. “Told you.”

They felt sharp, even the flat ones. “Why do they feel like that but look normal?” I demanded, poking around his mouth. He shrugged.

“But...you’ve bitten me before,” I said, “Tons of times. How do you not draw blood every time?”

“I have been like this for over two hundred years, kotku. I can control myself.”

“But...my teeth look sharper than yours,” I said, feeling around his mouth again.

“Primo says they- please stop poking me- he says they are, eh...a bit of an illusion?”

“What.”

He shrugged. “My brothers and I can all see one another’s teeth just fine.”

“You’re telling me your teeth are magic.”

He shrugged again and opened his book. I tore a sheet of paper out of the notebook and shifted around to face him.

“Open up, please.” He looked at me with amusement again, then opened his mouth and kept reading. I folded the paper just enough to fit in his mouth, then held my breath and raised it toward the bottom of a tooth.

Surely my fingers had just...been wrong. My sense of touch was misfiring.

At a distance I could see with the naked eye, maybe a few millimeters, the paper hit something solid. Something I couldn’t see.

“What the fuck,” I gasped, “Your teeth are magic?”

He looked at me like I was being ridiculous. “I do not think it is magic, kotku.”

“I am looking at something literally invisible. In your mouth.”

“Primo says-”

“What the fuck.”

“He thinks it is like a camouflage ability? That people- humans- sense we are different, and their brains cannot, eh...cope,” he said, as if it was all so simply explained. “He thinks your brain is filling in the blank of what should be there. Does that make sense?”

“It absolutely does not make any fucking sense.” I sat back and tried to process all this. After a long, heavy silence, he cleared his throat and set his book aside.

“Would you like to see?”

“What do you mean? Can I see?”

“You can.” My stare got a roguish smile in return. “I can show you,” he said, “and it will be fun.”

“...Fun.”

“Very.” His eyes crinkled mischievously. When mine narrowed in suspicion, he clarified, “I am not going to drink your blood, amore.” He reached over and moved my notepad to the nightstand.

When his hand slipped around my waist, I said, “’Fun,’ huh?”

“Very,” he smiled, gently pushing me onto my back and leaning over me. “There are other ways for you to see, but this is the most pleasant.”

I couldn’t help but ask, “What’s an unpleasant one?”

His nose was tracing the line of my jaw, cool lips trailing along my skin as his hand slid up to my breast. A soft kiss was delivered just under my ear, with a single word: “Terror.”

“And why would that do it?”

“It is the easiest way to get your brain a little, eh...more primal.” His thumb swiped across a hard nipple, and he elaborated in the low, seductive voice I loved. “Would you rather try that? It can be fun also.”

“...Sure.”

“Then let me tell you a story, myszko. Paint you a little picture.” He moved his lips closer to my ear. “You are walking home alone at night when you notice me behind you. You do not know why, but you are immediately afraid of me, immediately trembling and anxious. A strange man following you is worrying on its own for a woman, yes? But there is something about me that has you so frightened, much more than you would be normally. You do not know that I let you see me, to make your heart pound so loudly and your blood race so sweetly.” A low laugh rumbled from his chest when I shivered. His hand moved over my heart.

“You try to lose me without me noticing, not understanding what is behind you, only knowing you have to get away. But when you think I am gone I reappear ahead of you. You try-” an amused little exhalation hit my neck, the cool puff of air sending goosebumps across my body, “try to rationalize that it could not be me, there is no way I could have come from that direction, but when I look in your eyes you know it is me. I will simply pass you by the first time, let you think you were mistaken, and overreacting, let you feel relieved now that you think I am gone.

“But then I am in front of you again.” His teeth closed around my earlobe for a moment, just enough to pinch, enough to make me softly whimper and squirm under him. “You are certain it is me again, but how could that be? Your whole body is shaking, you are walking faster and faster, but I am always near. Sometimes I am behind you again, sometimes I am across the street, but I am there.” His teeth grazed my neck and I whimpered again, my heart pounding under his palm.

Something was emanating from him as he took me on this troubling little journey. A darkness had gathered around us as his voice had fallen lower and lower, smooth and almost hypnotic, keeping me frozen in place even as my pulse raced. Every cool puff of breath against my skin made me want to shudder, but it was as though his very will was wrapped around my nerves.

My body was screaming for me to try to run, to flee, right now, right this fucking second…! but the only way my muscles still operated was to respond to him. The instinct to escape was getting quieter and quieter, and his wasn’t the only voice in my head, but my own was becoming a little more distant. His breath hitched excitedly for a moment and he pressed closer.

“You are almost home when you lose sight of me. You are so relieved that you start running. So close to safety, you are almost crying.” His fingers flexed against my skin, caging the hammering in my chest as his lips brushed against my ear.

“Then I catch you.”

His hand moved smoothly down my belly into my pants, cold fingers stroking my feverish heat for a moment before spreading me open and sliding a finger inside me.

“I pull you off the street,” he breathed, humming approvingly at the moan that escaped me and pushing in another finger, laughing softly when my hips rose to his hand, “I have you against a wall, and you are trapped.” When I whimpered softly he chuckled again, “You try to fight me, but I am too strong for you. You try to scream, but I have my hand over your mouth.” His fingers slowed, pulling out of me and slickly curving along the length of my slit. He kissed the side of my neck and pulled back, smiling with dark amusement gleaming in his mismatched eyes.

I whispered, “Then what?”

With parted lips he slowly ran his tongue along his teeth, smiling a little more widely.

“I come closer.”

I flicked my gaze between his eyes and his mouth, not seeing anything unusual, and then he thrust his fingers back inside me. My head tipped back when I cried out, and when I looked at him again I saw them.

He did not have normal teeth.

All of them were sharp, but his canines especially. His fangs. I gasped and he pushed a third finger inside me, working them hard and fast as I clenched with fear around him.

“You like them, hmm?” he purred.

“F-fuck,” I whimpered. Before I could think to say anything else, his lips were on my neck again, making me whimper with a flash of fear.

Those teeth loudly snapped shut next to my ear. “If I had known scaring you made you this wet I would have done this weeks ago,” he laughed.

“What the fuck,” I gasped, still reeling as he kept fucking me, “How- I don’t- oh fuck, Terzo, how-” He silenced me with his lips, urgency slipping his tongue against mine and hurrying his hands to get his pants out of the way. He jerked at mine and I heard fabric rip.

“Usually I would drink you right away, but when I know there’s a wet, needy cunt nearby, aching for me to fill it-” he tore off my pants and threw the shredded remains to the side, then lined himself up and immediately pushed his cock inside me. He threw back his head with a rumbling groan as he sheathed himself, looking down at me with a triumphant grin before he snapped his hips forward and started fucking me.

“I would take you right there in the street,” he breathed, then buried his face at the joining of my neck and shoulder. His voice dropped to a growl, saying, “Fuck you against that wall, take you like the horny slut you are, the way you want. Isn’t that right, puttana?”

“Yes,” I moaned. He groaned and snaked his arms underneath me, grabbing my shoulders to pull me into each aggressive thrust. I stammered, “I-I would want you to...to-” then threw my head back, unable to think about anything other than his thick cock ramming into me, or how even the cries he drew from me couldn’t drown out his growls or the sound of his balls slapping against me.

“Should have taken you the second I saw you,” he panted, “Should have hunted you, made you mine,” he punctuated the mine with a hard thrust, then pulled out, keeping his cock just outside me as he grabbed my face. His eyes were wild as he moved his hand to my hair and pulled my head back, saying, “You know what I want to hear.”

“I’m yours,” I moaned, “You made me yours.” I rolled my hips toward him, desperate for him to be back inside me.

“Say it again,” he commanded with a breathless laugh, flashing his teeth again, pushing against me just enough to make me whine for it.

“I’m yours.”

“You would have loved it, me fucking you in an alley like a common whore, eh?” He thrust hard into me again, not bothering to wait for a response, “Your cunt was made for me to fuck,” he said, heavy breaths growing ragged as his cock plunged so deliciously in and out of me, “Say it.”

“My cunt was made for you, I was made for you to fuck,” I cried out, clenching tight around him as the room spun, as he looked down at me, parted lips expelling gasping breaths and showing off the fangs I knew he wanted to sink into my flesh, “This is where I’m meant to be,” I panted frantically, “All I want is to feel your cock inside me every day, all I want is you, you’re all I need you’re all I want, fuck, fuck-”

He bit down on my shoulder with a growl —not breaking skin, but the desperate, hungry whine that followed told me how badly he wanted to. Before I could tell him to, tell him how much I wanted him to lose control, to take me how he wanted, to consume me, his cock flexed inside me. His hips swiftly slammed into me and he emptied himself into my cunt, thick ropes of hot cum fucked hard into me with a bone-deep groan.

Still clinging to me, he freed a hand and snaked it between us, shuddering deep breaths across my skin as he stroked my clit. He was still thrusting weakly, even as his cock softened, whimpering with me every time his fingers drew a cry of pleasure from me. He was murmuring something against my skin, so quiet I couldn’t hear it over my own voice, and with how easily he was pulling me to climax I couldn’t bring myself to care about words.

His voice drifted back in, whispering “Come for me, amore,” as he nipped at my ear, “Let me hear how good I make you feel.” My hands went into his beautiful black hair, crushing his lips against mine as I nodded over and over, yes, yes, you make me feel so good, letting his tongue muffle my cries as the electricity between us surged. When my back arched off the mattress and my head fell back in a mute scream of ecstasy, I dimly heard his voice again.

“All I want is you, you are all I need, you are everything I want…”

Vampire notes:

His powers/abilities/whatever (That I know of):

Strength

Speed (running, maybe swimming?)

Hypnosis/compulsion —“Pushing.”

Heightened sense of smell and hearing. Maybe night vision?

Claims to be almost 300 years old —provably at least 110.

Magic fucking teeth —easily breaks skin, no tearing

He both loves and needs to be in control, and he lost that completely when I was on my period. His teeth look normal, most of the time. He says they’re not magic, but he’s a walking corpse with powers and capabilities far beyond humans, who lives —as it were— solely on human blood, so I don’t think his opinion is entirely accurate. Vampires are real. Why not magic?

The next day, I was sitting cross-legged on the bed next to him again, peering intently at his face as he read.

“How long are you going to live?”

He shrugged. “I can be killed, but I will not die of natural causes. I do not age. A car accident could kill me tomorrow or,” he paused for a moment of thought, “I could live forever. As far as I know.”

He yawned and set his book down on his stomach, then scooched closer and put his arm around my hips as I scribbled down my notes.

“So...how much vampire stuff is true?”

“Like in the pictures? Not much.”

“Silver?”

“Eh?”

“Does silver hurt you?”

“No,” he sounded mystified, “Why would it?”

“Holy water? Crucifixes?”

“Aside from messing up my hair and most crucifixes being ugly, no, no effect.” He idly rubbed my back and yawned again. 

“Stake through the heart?”

“Why this fascination with killing me, myszko? Do you have weekend plans I should know about?”

I poked his side. “Is that a yes?”

“No. A stake through the heart will only ruin my shirt.”

“Hmph.” Pop culture and mythology both were utterly failing me. “Can you cross running water?”

“Of course.”

“I assume if you could turn into mist you would have done it already to show off.”

“Correto.”

“Same with shapeshifting into animals?”

“I wish I could become a cat,” he sighed, “I think I would make a good cat.”

“You’d be an excellent cat,” I said, mussing his hair. “You definitely would have shown off if you could fly.”

He swatted my hand away and smoothed his hair back into place. “If I could fly I would have swooped you up to the sky with me ten seconds after we met.”

“I’ll bet,” I said. He winked at me, then yawned again and closed his eyes when I asked, “If someone throws a bunch of rice at you, do you have to count it?”

“Why would I count rice?”

I shrugged, “Dunno. Garlic?”

“No longer delicious, sadly, but edible.”

“Must be tragic for an Italian,” I said absentmindedly, looking back through my notes. He gave a neutral, “Mm.”

“So...you drink blood and you can hypnotize people. Is that it?”

One of his eyes opened slyly. “I am a legendary lovemaker.”

“That is not one of the myths.”

“So you agree it’s the truth?” His hand slid down to my butt and squeezed, then to my waist when I poked him. “Let me prove it to you, since you somehow do not believe me.” His hand was creeping toward the ticklish spot on my back. He laughed when I swatted his hand away, then pouted, “You are no fun.”

“I’m plenty fun,” I flicked his nose and he lazily snapped his teeth near my finger. “What about fire?” I continued.

“What about it?”

“Would fire kill you?”

His face fell, suddenly serious. “...Yes. Horrible.”

“Well yea, it’s fire.”

“It...it takes much longer for us.” The hand that had been idly rubbing my back stilled, then dropped away.

“Because you heal more?”

“Because our bodies can sustain much more damage than a human before it is fatal,” he said. He hesitated before adding, “Please do not set me on fire.”

I poked his side again. “Don’t do anything to deserve it.”

“I will strive not to.”

“Have you seen that? One of you die like that?”

“No,” he said quietly. “Primo has. If a day comes when you feel the need to kill me, I would much prefer decapitation, if you would be so kind.”

“Can’t heal that, huh?”

“No. As far as I know those are the only ways I can die, and I cannot stress enough how much I would rather-”

“I get it. I don’t know how I’m supposed to cut your head off without you stopping me, but I’ll try my best to decapitate you, okay?”

“That is all I ask,” he said, gazing off into nowhere. I cleared my throat and ignored the contemplative look passing over his face.

“What about getting crushed to death?”

“Maybe.”

“Can you suffocate? Wait, do you actually need to breathe?”

He shrugged.

“You don’t know?”

“Once I held my breath just to see how long I could do it.”

“And?”

“After about two hours I felt a little tickle in my lungs. I got bored and stopped.”

“Huh.”

“So maybe a day or two without air would kill me.”

“Wonder if you could live in space.” He just shrugged again. “Wait,” I said, “you get short of breath when we have sex.”

“And?”

“Do you have to breathe?”

He thought for a moment, looking perplexed. “Huh. Maybe I do? Maybe it is just reflex.”

“If you run around for a while do you breathe heavy?”

He scratched at his chin and said, “I do not think I do, actually,” supremely baffled, then said, “Maybe it happens around you because you take my breath away, eh?” with a smug smile. When I groaned and smacked his belly with my notebook, he laughed. “You liked it, myszko, admit it.”

I smacked him again and said, “To think you wasted your obvious gift for comedy on science fiction movies.”

“If not for sound ending my career in the pictures, I could have been a true wonder.”

“So you’re saying people being able to hear your jokes ended your career?” I teased.

He let out a gasp and theatrically clutched his chest, “You wound me, moje słońce. What did I ever do to you?”

“Aside from kidnapping me and tormenting me for weeks and almost killing me a few days ago?”

“Tch,” he sucked at his teeth, “You liked two of those things quite a bit.”

“Mm,” I raised an eyebrow at him and looked back to my notes, “What if your heart was cut out?”

“Myszko…”

“Your heart does still beat, and your lungs do work.” I thought for a moment. “Do you have all your organs from when you were alive? Are they different?”

“I have not been to a surgeon to find out.”

“I know you don’t like alcohol, but you can drink it, right?”

He looked at me curiously. “Yes.”

“Can you get drunk?”

“It takes a very long time and it is very unpleasant, but yes.”

“Interesting...Can you throw up?”

“Perełko-”

“If you can get drunk I think that means you still have a functioning liver. I just want to know if your stomach still works too,” I pressed.

He sighed. “Yes, my darling, I can vomit. Does this revelation make you happy?”

“Do you still have stomach acid?”

He frowned, nose crinkled in disgust, and said, “This is getting a little distasteful.”

“Terzo...”

“Mm.”

“...Are you certain you’re actually dead?”

He said nothing, just propped himself up on his elbows and stared at me, head cocked to the side.

“You have a bunch of functioning organs,” I said, “You have a heart that pumps blood through your body and lungs that, uh...what’s the word...respirate.”

“And?”

“’And?’ What do you mean ‘and?’ I’m no doctor, but I think having a working brain, heart, lungs, liver, stomach-”

“Myszko-”

“You have functioning sweat and salivary glands.”

He laid back down with a heavy sigh.

“How could you have all that and still be dead? Your hair and nails still grow. You shave! You even still have some body heat!”

“I am dead, myszko,” his brows furrowed in annoyance.

“Are you sure?”

In a snippy tone, he said, “I died and was buried.”

Back when he was a definitely-living human it wasn’t uncommon for people to be mistakenly buried. Being put in a grave in the 1700s didn’t prove anything, but I bit back my objections when I looked at his eyes. They were lost, wandering around the room, and when he spoke his words seemed to come from somewhere a great distance from us.

“There was a stone with my name engraved on it,” he said. His voice was soft, getting more and more bitter as he continued, “I was pulled from my grave by the man who turned me. He told me my mother sold the last of her jewelry to pay for that stone.”

“Terzo…”

“The mason who made it had known my mother his entire life, me my entire life, yet he made my mother give up the last things of any value in her home.” He didn’t smile, exactly; it was more like he bared his teeth at the memory itself, “He recognized me.”

“Terzo-”

“He wept when he saw me, pleaded for me to take his wife instead. Their baby.” His lips curled into a contemptuous sneer, “Wretched man. He looked so relieved when I did take his wife, he just cowered in the corner and waited for me to finish. He didn’t even scream when his own child died, only when I finally reached for him too-”

“Terzo!”

He flinched and came back to me, blinking haunted eyes.

I gingerly reached for him, and his belly trembled under my palm when I asked, “Did you really?”

“Really what?”

“Kill the baby.”

“Yes.”

I stared at him, his wide, dissimilar eyes providing me with no adequate words.

“And the woman,” he said quietly, “and the coward they lived with.” His gaze slowly drifted from mine, and then he sat up and got out of bed. I heard his book thump to the floor and he simply kept walking to the door.

“Hey-” If there was anything I could say to alleviate this, I hadn’t thought of it when I opened my mouth. He stopped in the doorway and turned his head slightly. Not looking at me, but waiting nonetheless.

“I’m sorry, I...I didn’t mean to pry...Are you okay?”

“I am going for a walk.” He shut the door behind him a moment later.

7. Claims to not age

8. Mythology has proven useless.

9. There are very few ways he can be killed.

10. He might not be dead.

He was quiet for the rest of the day, and the next, and the next. Subdued and thoughtful; still affectionate, but in a strained, distant way. Terzo was prone to melancholy, usually experiencing some kind of mood —for better or worse— at least once a week, but this was the quietest I’d ever seen him.

Reading all day wasn’t unusual for him, but it seemed more like he was simply looking at the object, working through only a few pages an hour. Eventually he simply left. He sat out by the pond for hours, listlessly smoking, and when I eventually went to find him he was sitting alone in the library, in the dark, staring out the window. When I came up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder he leaned into my touch, though, giving me a faint, wistful smile before silently following me to bed.

He pulled me on top of him, throwing his head back against the pillows and whispering to himself, sighing softly at the feel of my lips on his neck and shoulders and chest. The words breathed across my skin weren’t in English when he bothered to speak at all. With every shudder of pleasure his hands tightened on my hips, but his eyes only opened when his face was turned from mine.

11. I don’t think he had a lot of control over himself in the past.

Thank you for reading 💜

You are a flawless gem of a person, just as sparkling and multifaceted, every bit as precious and valued.

If you enjoyed Vampire Terzo going apeshit over menstruation and angsty over babykilling, I have a tip jar and am a broke bitch :]

I've got a little over 14k words of the next part written already, but I unfortunately also have a lot of life shit going on at the moment and focusing on writing has become very difficult, so I can't say when part III will be released. Same with all my other vampire stuff, sadly, though I have put some time into Secondo and Primo's stories recently.

Oh! And not to spoil anyone's fun, but the decapitation conversation was actually a coincidence and has nothing to do with the non-canonical!! magazine cover. It's just one of the classic ways to kill a vampire, and I legit didn't realize what I'd done until months after I wrote it 🤭

Either way, I hope you enjoyed this little continuation of Vampire Terzo, and fingers crossed I'll be able to provide the next chapter soon.