#remmickxfem!reader

Ignoring the outstretched hand, you continue to scramble past him. No matter how friendly, you can't look him in the face. Not while you can remember hearing the moans coming through the ceiling at two in the morning, not even a few nights ago. You never saw anyone enter the building or leave with him, but you just assume that he's gay or has a preference, based on the male ring to the moans that tend to drift down into your bedroom.

You imagine the eye roll he pulls when you hear the 'pft' sound behind you. "Well damn. Rude." Despite the heavy bags hanging from your arms, the spike of irritation makes you backtrack and step to him.

"Yeah? You know what else is rude?" He only blinks at your raised tone, clearly not expecting the quick outburst. "Playing your dumb music in the dead of night with no concern for your neighbour." The sudden rush of anger with his ignorance grips you, and the otherwise blank reaction only spurs you on. "And. Do you have to be so loud when you fuck someone?"

He scoffs back at you, not entirely sure what you mean, though a faint pink flushes over his cheeks before he hits back defensively. "Aw, well I am sorry, Princess."

His feigned sincerity and hand over his heart causes you to glower. "Is someone just upset that they're not gettin' any?" It's not wrong for a shot in the dark, you can't remember the last time you got lucky with anything other than your rose toy. "Jealous. maybe?"

Remmick grins when he watches you get uncomfortable on the spot, and he knows he's guessed correctly. Though he can't stop his face from heating at the fact that you seem to have heard him late into the night. He didn't think he was that loud.

"I'm not jealous, your boyfriend makes it sound like you're an awful lay." Your teeth grit but you manage to smirk beyond the lie. It didn't remotely sound that way to you. It makes you ashamed that on more than one occasion, you found your hand drifting to your clit at the noises and wonder what he was doing to pull them from someone.

When Remmick stares back, an uncertainty surges through you. His brow furrows, a quizzical look sweeping over his features as he tries to work out what you mean. "Boyfriend? I don't have a boyfriend."

Your throat feels dry, and you regret saying anything just to be wrong. "Whoever you're fucking, then. I'm tired of it waking me up all of the time."

Were you mixing him up with another tenant? "I don't- Not that it's yer concern, but I haven't been 'seein' to' anyone. What are ya talkin' about?" He wouldn't usually be so open, but the genuine confusion you've caused for him makes him think out loud.

You can only stare at Remmick, until you realise that if he really hasn't had anyone else over then… The moans you've heard through the ceiling must have been his. He must realise it too, because when you turn on your heels to practically run up the stairs, he doesn't protest.

Remmick is left in the lobby, unable to say anything after it dawns on him that he's definitely been too loud through the night. His fingers tighten and unfurl a few times as he waits for the quick rush of being caught fade away from him, thankful that you already scurried off when you had.

The next time you leave for a quick errand, it's after your landlord updated you that the lift has been fixed. About time. The thing has been out for half the year; something about a werewolf forgetting to take her suppressants and going on a rampage. In any case, you're glad that you can finally stop bumping into Remmick on the stairs. Luckily, you haven't seen him since the awkward encounter last week. The music has still continued to be loud, but you haven't heard any moaning from him. That made you anxious; if you could hear him, then you wondered if he could hear you using your toy, it wasn't exactly quiet. In any case, it made you too self-aware to relieve yourself since you saw him, just in case.

You wait for the lift to come down, pleased to hear the familiar 'ding' when it reaches your floor. As it opens, you check your phone as you step inside, hitting the button for the ground level like it's second nature. As the doors close, you don't notice that Remmick is stood in here with you until you glance over, and your stomach lurches when your surprised eyes meet his.

As quick as you spot each other, you tear your eyes away, gluing them to your phone screen instead. Even as you pretend to look through apps you don't think you've ever opened before, you can feel Remmick's eyes on you. Your chest is too tight to breathe in fully as you wait for the doors to open again.

Except that isn't what happens.

The lift suddenly lurches and creaks as both you and Remmick get shunted. You gasp and drop your phone with the movement, then can only stare at the ground as the lift screeches to a halt. At some point in between, you hear a crunch under your foot just as the lights cut out.

Panic fills you during the moments it takes for the backup lights flicker to life. When it all seems still, you realise Remmick is talking to you.

"-ay? Hey. Are you alright?" Remmick clicks his fingers in front of your face; you might have taken offence if it hadn't worked to snap you out of it.

"Huh? Yeah… It just spooked me." You reach out to press the ground button again, but nothing lights up. "Shit." An awkward feeling washes over you upon learning that you're stuck in here with Remmick.

Your brows knit together as you mutter to yourself, clutching at the metal railing under the cracked mirror behind you. "Fuck. Not you."

Remmick lets out a small huff as he tries, and fails, to pry open the doors, not sounding thrilled either. "Yeah, me."

The silence between you is palpable as you reach down to pick up your phone. As you slowly turn it over, you wince, bracing for a shattered screen. Nothing could have prepared you for how the glass looks like someone took a hammer to it, and you can only assume you stepped on it as the lights cut out.

With a groan, your hands find your face, pressing into it as you try to think. You're hesitant when you finally inhale to acknowledge Remmick as you pocket the remains of your phone. "My phone's broke, does yours work?"

Remmick raises his brows, staring at you as if he didn't fully understand the question. "I don't have a phone."

His words are so unbelievably casual that it makes a nervous laugh punch out of you. "As in… with you, right?"

"At all. Never needed one." His shrug would have you baffled if this weren't such a frightening concept, and the walls begin to feel closer in here.

You stare at him, mouth ajar at the idea that Remmick could possible be going around without a phone. "Right… It sure would suck if you were suddenly in a situation where you needed to call someone." You squint at him as if he's stupid, which, you can't figure out if that is this case or not.

Remmick's grin catches your attention as he flashes his brows. "Could do, or just-" Your breath hitches as he leans over you to press the yellow button with a faded icon of a bell on it, and after a short wait, there's a voice from the intercom. Remmick stays there, body too close to yours while he mentions that the lift has broken again. Before the muffled voice cuts out, they mention getting a repairman on the way. Not that you're really paying attention, you're more concerned at the close proximity of Remmick's body making you nervous.

Even after Remmick moves away, you cross your arms at the silence. The quicker speed of your heartbeat is all you can hear alongside the hum of the backup lights, and you hate that the anxiousness is taking over you so quickly.

Remmick leans against the other wall away from you, and you close your eyes to try and ignore him and the embarrassed tension you can feel creeping through you.

"Can ya settle down? Yer pulse is… distractin'…" His eyes avoid yours as he mutters it, not that it does anything for your nerves in the slightest. It isn't even two minutes of uneasy silence before he speaks up again.

"So…" His playful voice cuts through the silence like an out of place knife. "Get lucky yet~?"

Immediately, you can only feel offended that he would bring it up again, you don't care if it's him trying to make conversation. "That's none of your damn business." The irony of it isn't lost on you; you shouldn't have brought his own sex life up with him to begin with.

A quick laugh escapes him as you hear him cross his arms in response. "When y'er yellin' at me in the hall 'cause of it, it sorta is."

You can only ignore him and the uncomfortable feeling of your own doing.

There's a sigh that makes you crack open your eyes to glance over. "Ya goin' t'apologise for that display?"

You want the floor to open up and swallow you whole. "Why would I ever do that?"

Remmick gestures to you with his palm up, trying to reason with you. "Cause I was only tryin' to help ya out."

The walls must be getting closer in here, and your voice cracks a little with the unsure reply. "I didn't need it."

Remmick's eyes look you over, narrowed and searching. "Ya didn't want it, but ya needed it." The way he says that unnerves you a tad, worried that he's hiding a double meaning. Though it could just be the natural distrust towards his vampiric nature. Then his head tilts as though he's figured something out. "Ya that panicked about the space, darlin'?"

You think you say 'No' but nothing comes out, and you notice Remmick closer to you than before, inspecting you for something. "Just think of somethin' else, it's not that bad."

You go to open your mouth but instead of words, something that sounds more like faint hiccups leave you, and Remmick tuts somewhere next to you. "Poor thing, probably wound up tighter than a damn banjo string."

His face comes into your view and you try to look away, mortified that he's able to see you fight off a panic attack over something that feels so trivial. His eyes seem to scan yours, then his voice goes quieter with a teasing edge. "Haven't heard that toy in a while. Ya need someone to… pluck a few nice sounds outta ya?"

The mention of your toy has your face go warm. "I don't-" Gasp. "-know what you're-" Gasp. "-talking about." The panic from the enclosed space rapidly festers in you, and you can hear it in your breaths between the words. The closeness of Remmick doesn't remotely help, and your attention is forced onto him when he's inches from you.

"I bet ya make pretty noises, hm?" He already knows that you do. Any time the buzzing of a toy could be heard through the floor, his hand was already wrapped around his hard cock as he listens out for your wanton moans, forearm pressed over his dripping fangs. "Ya need somethin' to take yer mind off of this?"

"Damn-" Gasp. "-blood sucker." You'd hoped your apparent need to lash out would make him lose interest, or at the very least, sound remotely threatening. He only gives a soft laugh at the insult.

His quiet retort is a gentle purr, but so swift that you're lost for words. "Stupid human." Even though you worry for your blood, when he slides closer, you're keening for his touch. It's been so long since you've felt anyone else. "So easy to distract." The soft chuckle against your ear makes a tiny whine leave you, and you can feel the smugness radiating off of him.

With a whisper like velvet sweeping over your ears, you only hear him utter one word. "Pleasure."

The word rings out through your senses, through your body like a wave. It's quickly getting warm in the lift, stiflingly so, until your panicked hiccups are slowed right down to the odd gasp, then drawn-out sound. You clamp your hand over your mouth as your entire body is flooded with something molten, and you try hard not to whine into your palm. The noise leaves you regardless as your thighs press together, unwelcome heat quickly building there and you feel mortified at the way your clit is starting to throb with need you didn't have moments ago. Your mind gets foggy, confused about what's going on and unable to hide it.

The back of his fingers brush over your side and you flinch as he brings his lips to the side of your neck. You brace for pain, but Remmick's fangs only lightly graze your skin, followed by his tongue in a way that makes you squirm for more against your will. Remmick's grin curls around his breath as you squirm, and his hands run up your sides at a leisurely pace. "That feel good, sugar?"

His touch is scorching and you aren't sure why you need more of it. You can only nod as you peer up at him, half-lidded as your thighs tremble with his touch. It isn't clear to you how vampires work, only the basics and that occasionally, some develop abilities. This has to be one. Every other thought dissipates from your body, and you take Remmick's hand to lead to your ass. There's a sound from him stuck somewhere between a soft laugh and a semblance of a moan as he kneads the plush of it through your clothes. The realisation of that noise hits you, even through the dizziness you've heard that moan before.

It's without a doubt his moans that you've been hearing from his apartment.

His brows knit as he slowly inhales against your skin through his nose. "Fuuuck, I can smell how wet'cha are already." The feeling has your head spinning, and you're surprised that you don't want him to stop. Instead, you pull him into a desperate, open kiss that he happily reciprocates; a needy clack of fangs on teeth and occasional nibble of your lower lip.

His fingers skirt along to the buttons of your jeans, tugging them open and forcing the zipper down as his hand snakes under the denim. As Remmick's fingers thread underneath your underwear, both your breaths hitch at the slick that's already dripping through the material.

"I-I'm- Please-" You squeak out to him, needing anything more than just fingers exploring you as the impossible heat consumes your body. He turns you so that you're facing the back wall, face-to-face with your own reflection in the broken mirror. Remmick's wanton expression makes your breath catch in your throat, and his free hand comes up to grip your chin and force you to watch his hand slip back inside.

"Can ya hear that? How soaked ya got before I'd even touched ya." The smug buzz of his voice sits heavy in your stomach, and you can't stop fidgeting underneath his touch. The warmth, the closeness, it's all overwhelming for you. When your cunt aches for more, you press your hips back against his.

Remmick's eyes catch yours in the mirror; it's the first time you've watched them turn red. "Feel what y'er doin' t'me?" His voice is thick with a lust to add weight behind the way his cock stiffens behind you. "Writhin' around like a slut. Tell me what you need." Remmick doesn't care if it's fake, he needs a distraction too right now. Every now and then he would use the ability to flood himself with pleasure, but using it on someone else never gets old.

"I-I…" The burning inside you is almost unbearable, and you can't stop yourself from rocking your clit against the small circles Remmick's fingers are making. "-Your cock. Need it inside, please." You aren't sure how much longer you can hold out for, the rush through you is already pulsing through your veins and making you clench around nothing like you're about to come.

Remmick smirks at your pulse and the thin sheen of sweat forming on your skin. "Yeah? How many times d'ya want me to make you come then, eh?"

You whine at the question, face flushed with the foreign heat and need pooling in your stomach.

He doesn't let you get away without answering him. "Give me a number."

The fog in your mind prohibits any sense from you. "Three." It's the first number you can think of, you don't actually expect anything of it. Remmick's smirk tells you that assumption was wrong without even needing to say it out loud.

"Look at ya, usin' yer words like a clever girl." His teeth catch the ridge of your ear, the sensation of his breath against you is cold enough to make you shiver. With a slow drag of Remmick's hand, he eases two fingers to your entrance. The feeling makes you choke on nothing, and there's a dark, amused hum in your ear when he shoves them inside. Immediately, your breaths are cut shorter at the thickness of the digits, sliding all the way up to the knuckle as you moan freely for him.

"So feckin' tight. Definitely been a while for ya…" The pang of shame you feel is melted away in the next breath. "…We'll fix that soon, dove. Gonna stretch ya out on this cock." Your eyelids flutter when you feel the thick outline of his erection thrust once against you. You swear you're about to drool over the anticipation for him.

Your hands grip the railing as Remmick thrusts his fingers into you, curling the pads into your walls like he's reaching for something. Any awkward feeling dissolves away completely, replaced with the white-hot need as he reaches the spongy part of you that has your jaw go slack with thin whines.

When he deems you prepped enough, you want to sob at the loss as his coated fingers make short work of finding your clit again. "Shh… just take yer pleasure." Remmick mouths at your neck as his fingers make tight little circles over the bundle of nerves. If it weren't so good, you would question how he plays with you like he already knows the exact way you like it.

No guesswork, just less than a few minutes and your breaths are already fraying at the edges for his name. "Rem- Oh god- Remmick I'm coming!" He's watching with half lidded eyes as your entire consciousness shrinks down to his fingers on you, and the heat thrumming inside you throbs deliciously until you're seeing white around your vision. His fingers slow down until he plunges them back inside your cunt, and he whines under his breath with the way your walls clench around him.

The pulse of heat doesn't leave you; if anything, you only need more in a way you haven't felt before. "Suckin' me back in, ya greedy little thing." You hear the sound of his zipper behind you moments before he tugs your jeans down to your knees. "Let's give her somethin' to squeeze onto." Remmick's fingers slowly draw out from you, only to take your jaw in his hand and turn your head towards him.

He drags his tongue over your bottom lip, and the gasp you let out is enough for him to use as leverage to push inside. There's a few teases to your palette, then the tip is making languid swirls over your tongue that pull breathless moans from you. The jerk of his freed cock against you makes you think they're the noises Remmick was looking for.

When he breaks the kiss to bend you forward, you don't have time to think before the thick head of him is brushing over your soaked underwear. He doesn't bother removing them, he only hooks a finger under the flimsy material to yank it to the side. Your fingers tighten on the railing to steady yourself as he lines himself up with your entrance, and the first press of him alone is enough to have your groan break as it leaves your throat.

Remmick leans over you, grabbing your chin to force you to make eye contact with him as he pushes up into you. "Watch me stuff ya full, darlin'…" Your eyes go wide, and his go slack at the way your walls indeed stretch open for him as he stuffs his cock deeper into you. He doesn't stop until he's completely bottomed out inside, deep enough that you both gasp at the effort.

Your thighs tremble as your slick leaks out around him; there's so much of him that it feels like you can't breathe properly. Both of you pant hard as Remmick pulls out almost all of the way, before he's bullying his way back into your walls and setting a harsh pace. Every thrust of him has you unable to hide your sounds, and with a quick tug at the front of your shirt, you watch as Remmick's fingers grab at the top buttons. They're ripped apart, your shirt falling open for him to tug at your exposed bra until your breasts slide out from underneath.

"There we go. Feckin' look at'cha." Remmick grunts out as one of his hand palms at one of your breasts, nipples already stiff before he's rolling them between his slick-coated fingers. His other hand settles on your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise and pulling you back onto his cock with every sharp thrust of his hips that shoves you forwards.

The closeness of it is stifling, raw, and everything you've needed for far too long.

You lose track of time completely, lost to the sound of panting layered over each other and the echoed slap of Remmick's balls against your skin every time he's in deep. He leans forward to lick a stripe up the sheen of sweat coating your skin; it's too hot to think of anything, you couldn't if you tried. You're left with no option other than to just feel the way he fits you perfectly, taking each harsh thrust like you've been doing it forever.

The head of his cock keeps hitting the needy parts inside better than his fingers could, and your moans are forced out of you the same time his thrusts force a second climax out of you with a wail of his name.

"That's it, dove." Remmick's grunts ring in your ear when you cry out for him. "Let the whole feckin' building know-" The thought of being heard doesn't even cross your mind until Remmick brings it up, and your face burns of the distant thought. His hand shoots from playing with your breast to steady himself on the mirror, and the press of his chest on the curve of your spine feels right. "One more. Ya wanted one more? Take it from me."

Not a single thought crosses your mind, only a want for Remmick as he twitches inside you with each shove. The throaty moans of his mix with yours as they bounce off of the the metal walls; no part of you could escape any of this if you wanted to.

The need for him to fill you completely takes over, until you're incapable of even remembering where you are in this moment. Remmick's assault on your cunt doesn't ease up, and the pressure building inside you for a third time is better than any toy you've felt. When that tightly-wound coil inside you fractures again, your walls rhythmically snap around his cock hard. Without warning, there's a wet feeling you haven't experienced before as you squirt over him.

"Oh shit-" Remmick's breathless moans are torn at the edges, desperate for you as he clings to your hip. You feel a shiver run through him as his thrusts become sloppy, then with one final plunge of his hips, Remmick is emptying himself completely into you. His panting is ragged as his arms grip you anywhere they can, completely unravelled behind you as he continues to give little thrusts that get shallower with ever push.

It becomes all too much for you; overstimulating as you cry out, actual tears fall with the high of it. Your eyes clasp shut as you ride out the waves of your climax, reduced to nothing but a whimpering mess underneath Remmick.

You expect the warm afterglow of sex, but instead, you notice the burning inside you finally slipping away. It drains out of you, not too dissimilar to how it began. Until it's completely gone, not with a sated feeling, just gone.

When you open your eyes, Remmick isn't inside you. He's not even touching you.

Confused at what's going on, you slowly peer over to the side as you try to catch your breath as you recall where you are. Remmick is sat with his back up against the lift wall, watching you with parted lips.

You stammer a little, unsure what it is exactly that's happening until you rack your brain for an answer. If you peer down, your clothes aren't any different to when you first walked in here. Your reflection shows that your hair is practically untouched, and stranger, you can't see Remmick's reflection at all anymore. Bizarrely, you sense the definitive wetness soaking your underwear and an unfamiliar feeling rolling down your thighs. "Wh-What's… Did-"

When Remmick swallows thickly, you get the impression he's been practising what to say. "…Sorry, but I couldn't spend an entire hour listenin' to ya freak out. Ya needed a distraction." Remmick's words air on blasé, even if his eyes have drifted away from you to the door. His head cocks like he hears something outside, and you think you spy him trying to hide the tent in the front of his jeans when he stands up. "Pretty sure the repair guy just got here."

You're completely lost for words. Fake. It was all fake, and you had fallen for it without a second thought.

After a short exchange with the person on the other side and a quick turnaround, the lift budges just enough for you both to leave. You don't hear anything about how long it's going to be out of order again, the ringing in your ears is far too loud for you to pay attention.

With a quick nod goodbye, Remmick leaves through the front door of the lobby to head off to whatever his plans were for the evening.

He's completely floored you, and it takes far longer to compose yourself than you would care to admit. Eventually, you head outside for the entire reason you left your apartment in the first place. You had only left to post a letter.

When you get to the nearest postbox, you scoop out the small notebook in your bag that's kept the envelope in pristine condition. After dropping the letter into the metal box, you notice something when you go to put the notebook back into your bag. It's writing on one of the pages that isn't your own handwriting.

'If you ever feel like trying the real thing, I'm pretty sure you know which apartment is mine. Bring your favourite toy.

~Remmick'

"You wrecked my things and didn't even apologise." Your arms fold on themselves as you turn your head away from him in a huff.

Remmick is slowly settling himself onto the sofa cushions beside you. "That ain't true, I said I didn't mean to."

Not an apology.

With a practised stillness, you don't even recognise that he's creeping closer to you until his fingers are brushing over your forearm.

"Remmick." Your voice is stern, a warning to him as you cross your arms. A warning that gets ignored in favour of a pair of chilled lips against your neck with a feigned innocent 'hm?' from him. The initial contact makes you gasp gently; it always does.

"I ain't doin' anythin' am I?" You can hear him smirk around the words. A part of you wants to retaliate, but a soft noise leaves you instead when his fingers snake up your side to slowly palm at your breast. The brush of his thumb over your nipple and light nibbles against your neck make your breath hitch. Pretty soon after, you're melting against him until you're lying down, Remmick having managed to sneak his way on top.

Your thighs are interlaced as Remmick pulls back to let his eyes flicker over you. The motion is predatory in nature, but the way he presses his lips against yours is anything but. The way they move against you is full of need, not demand, and you let a quiet sigh leave your throat. You can feel Remmick moan into you in return as you allow him to deepen the kiss; this was the third time since he wrecked the furniture that he's tried to kiss you, and you decide to string it out a little longer.

The pang of heat inside you is undeniable, particularly as you feel the tell-tale twitch of Remmick's cock up against your thigh. You let your hands carefully roam Remmick's back as you slide your tongue over his bottom lip. The excitement catches in his throat, hopeful that you've finally forgiven him enough to let him fuck you again.

The warmth blossoms through you, and as if he can taste it on your tongue, Remmick's hand moves down you rub your cunt through your jeans. Your hips rise enough to grind up against his palm, and you can feel the way Remmick's fangs ease out for you. Despite your frustration with Remmick, there's a familiar feeling of slickness with every press of your hips. The hard outline of his erection through his jeans is visible if you peek, and you slide your hands down his sides.

Carefully, you move his palm away from your sex. You replace his hand by raising your thigh, hearing a small whine from above in response. When you grip Remmick's hips to draw them firmly against your thigh, his groan is stuttered as he's forced to dry hump you. Not that it takes any convincing, his cock is already strained against the confines of the fabric and jerking underneath it as he grinds against you. He breaks the increasingly wet kiss to suck down air, only to let a ragged noise punch out of him with a particularly slow thrust against you.

"-Wantchu." Remmick swallows the drool that's leaking out of his mouth, and you feel yourself grin at the glazed-over look to his half-lidded eyes.

"You're so easy to get riled up." You let out a faint laugh, and there's a visible shiver through Remmick at your words, hands planted either side of you as he lets his eyes wander. You slide your palm over to the pronounced tent in his clothes, cupping him through the material and giving a slow, teasing squeeze. "Aren't you, baby?"

Remmick only nods dumbly as he drags his cock over your palm, his face already a lovely shade of pink, courtesy of his earlier feed. "Y-Yes- Please, stop teasin'…"

You decide for sure then that you're not going to let him fully have what he wants, and you undo his belt and the front of his jeans with a grin. "I'm not sure, Rems… I don't think you deserve to fuck me."

Remmick's mouth forms a small 'o' when you palm him through the thin material of his boxers; he looks so lovely, softly panting against his fangs and his brows furrowed. "Not… even a little? Just the tip, please." He swallows down his pride as his hips twitch, and something cruel blooms inside you.

When you take his length out and push his clothes down just enough so they're resting on the top of his thighs, he flashes an excited smile. He rushes to undo your own jeans, breaking from you only momentarily to remove them, then he's nestled between your legs like he belongs there. You wrap your fingers around his thick cock to give him lazy pumps of your fist, and his eyes flutter shut as he thrusts up into your hand.

That heat from before rushes to your lower abdomen, and you guide Remmick down until he's grinding down against your soaked underwear. His breath hitches at how much the thin fabric slides against your folds, and he forces his eyes open to plead with you. "Sugar, please." There's a misjudged grind from Remmick, and his cock slips under the edge of your underwear. His hips stutter at the wet feeling, and he sharply inhales. "Fuck, you're soaked- P-Please. Wanna be inside."

Your clit throbs against the tip of him, but you manage to keep composed. "Apologise." The single word cuts at Remmick's resolve, and you think you catch a snarl before he corrects himself.

"No." He struggles to say anything else at first, and when he denies you the apology, your eyes narrow. You slide two fingers against his parted lips, and Remmick reflexively opens up to allow it, immediately sucking them with a groan.

You feel your own face heat with the sensation, but you're determined to get an apology. "Apologise, or I'll rip out the threshold and put a new one up. See how well you wreck my stuff when you can't get back in." Remmick knows that you're stubborn enough to back your words up, and you give a few thrusts of your fingers against his tongue before slowly retracting them. Instead, you reach down to take hold of his cock, moving your underwear to the side to slide the head of him along your soaked folds.

Remmick's breath catches a few times as he restrains himself from bucking his hips against you. When you suddenly push him away, Remmick lets out a tiny growl from the back of his throat. "Fine. I-I'm sorry, alright? Shouldn't have- fuck- should've been careful."

Your lips crack into a cocky smirk as you run a wet finger over the head of Remmick's cock, circling it teasingly enough to make him whine under his breath. "Good boy, Remmick." A louder moan spills out of him than he meant to with the praise, and you let go so that he lines himself up with your entrance. Remmick's breath is already ragged as he looks down, and just as he's about to push into you, you speak out clearly. "Just the tip, remember?"

Remmick freezes, eyes snapped up at you with his brows pinched in confusion. His mouth moves to ask why, but you only raise a brow. "That's what you begged for, so take it or leave it." You could get drunk off the way Remmick crumbles overhead, and you half expect him to fuck up into you the way he wants anyway.

But he doesn't.

His teeth grit as he pushes the head of his cock into you with a guttural sound ripping from his chest. You feel his thighs tremble and the desperate way his fingers grip into the fat of your hip to anchor himself. "Please." The sound is wet, slick with drool and needy as he swallows down a hiccup.

The slow stretch of him makes you keen, but you stay strong to what you say. "No." You repeat the way he said it, and instead, you quickly find your swollen clit with your fingers. Remmick wets his lips at the sight of you, pulling back out only to thrust back in and stop frustratingly quick.

His head drops as he pants, breathing hitching on itself with need. "S..Sugar, I-I…"

"Touch yourself, Rems." You pant out to him as you rub quick circles into yourself, feeling the wet pulse against your fingers and the pleasure curling tightly.

Remmick stares at you, bewildered as he obeys to take the rest of his cock in his hands. You watch the flush darken on his face as he starts to pump his fist as much as he can, all the while dipping the tip of himself in and out with an uneven pace. Remmick pauses for a moment, only to let himself freely drool into his open palm. Then he's lowering his hand to wrap his wet fingers around himself again.

He only said it to try to convince you, but it's more sensitive than Remmick had bargained for. His jaw hangs open as wanton moans begin to freely spill out of him, uncaring as to how it sounds now as he gets lost in the new, restricted feeling.

"Doing so good for me, baby." You coo up to Remmick, and it has him nodding frantically. Then you're clenching the entrance of your cunt around him purposefully, and a needy sound is wrenched out of him.

He glides his hand over himself in a messier pace, the pang of shame in his chest from it, but lapping it up like a feedback loop. "Want all of you." You manage to bite back a moan at his desperate little whimpers, and you can tell that Remmick is struggling to restrict himself to only the tip. Somehow, through your string of praises and his surprise at how good it feels, he manages to stick to it until he can feel his peak getting closer much sooner than he anticipated.

Something about only the head of Remmick's cock sliding into you is focusing on sensitive parts you hadn't paid much attention to before. While you touch yourself, you play with your breasts with your free hand, letting Remmick stare while the teasing seemingly throughout your body somehow pulls you closer to your climax. When you feel your clit throb in a way you know you're close, there's barely time to let Remmick know before your head tips back and your back is arching off the sofa.

As you cry out, Remmick whimpers overhead at the way you clench around his flushed cock. You can hear the hand next to your side curling into a fist against the fabric, and his fangs are clenched in a way that you know he's about to come.

"Shit, I-I'm gonna come already-" He pants out as his fist speeds up on himself, slick with drool and making obscene noises between you.

You manage to steady yourself enough to give one more command to him. "Not inside." It was a little unfair, but hearing Remmick's voice crack in his throat, it was worth it.

Remmick gives an obedient nod as he shakily pulls out of you, and instead, he leans forward as he strokes the full length of his cock. He watches you, eyes unfocused as you both listen to the wet slap of his hand on his length, until…

A faint growl works its way out of Remmick as he released into his hand. He tries to catch as much as he can, but ultimately, it ends up dripping through his fingers and onto your shirt.

You feel your cunt clench around nothing, though with a faint grimace, you give a half laugh. "You just can't stop making a mess of my things, can you?"

The pressure sliding to your throat has you shiver faintly, seeming to stretch a soft moan from Remmick. You quickly realise that he's leaving wet, lingering kisses over your skin. Instinctively, you ease away from him out of concern for your blood. "R-Remmick?"

His soft words mutter delicately against you. "Y'er makin' noises in yer sleep like it hurts, love." Love. The word sticks with you while your lashes flutter at the ticklish feeling of his mouth.

"Rems…" You struggle to think beyond the pain that spikes with your cramps, and you run a hand over the area to try soothing it.

Remmick's eyes catch the movement in the dark, and his own hand follows yours to carefully place over the top. The added pressure helps a little, though you aren't expecting the way his voice drips with concern against your ear. "Let me help, I'll take good care'a ya." He states low between more slow kisses; the irony of him 'helping' you in return isn't lost on you. "Don't wantcha in any pain." Those words, genuine or not, have your stomach lurch as his hand travels further down. You feel him shift behind you before his voice is directly in your ear. "Please, let me make ya feel good, too. Won't even have to do anything." His suggestion might have swayed you, were it not clear that his fingers still end in claws.

A dull panic thuds through you when you feel their sharp edges, though the careful brushes over your clothed folds make you clamp a hand over your mouth. Even with a pad in between you both, the threat of him hurting you by mistake is unnerving. You don't give an outright objection as you quietly whine. "Your… claws are still out…" The way your thoughts begin to wander about how they feel has you inwardly cursing.

Remmick mouths at your shoulder through your night gown, focusing his attention on the bite mark underneath until he hears you. It makes him pause behind you, trying to reason with himself that it may not be a good idea. He blinks down to where his hand rests, and no matter how much he tries to force the claws back in, they just don't budge. A quick, frustrated noise leaves him, and he slides his hand back up to take your chin instead. Remmick moves over you, straddling your thigh to capture your lips properly; it pulls a soft, approving hum from you.

Mindful that you're already in pain, Remmick is gentler with you than before, even down to his kiss. The darkness prevents you from seeing anything, but your eyes slip shut regardless. You put it down to your freshly awoken state, but you feel brave enough to deepen your kiss as you sweep your tongue over his bottom lip.

Remmick lightly gasps through his nose at the feeling. "Careful." It's only a ghost of a whisper as he parts his lips with a smile to let you lick into his mouth, trying to remain cautious of his fangs where he can. The boxers that you've made him wear are already feeling tighter around his swelling cock. You sense that Remmick was entirely serious when he said he wanted to make you feel good, taste it in the way he clings to your kiss for a little while longer.

He slowly grinds his hardening cock against your thigh, and you raise your leg a little to add some friction against it. There's a small whimper that it drags out of him; unfettered and open into your kiss as you feel the familiar sensation of his drool pooling on your tongue. You smile around the kiss and end up swallowing more than you mean to. The idea of it should make you shudder, but your cheeks only warm in response, and your head feels lighter. Your entire throat seems to heat immediately with it. You can't think too much about the way the kiss feels different; you only absently question it as you softly moan back against him and the way your tongues brush. You feel the way his fingers splay over your breast, massaging the skin and rolling your hardened nipple through the thin nightgown.

Remmick breaks away to pant against your mouth. "These been hurtin' ya too, dove?" The darkness makes it difficult to see much other than the strip of moonlight revealing a glimpse of red above you.

Fundamentally, you know that it's scary. You should be terrified by the sight of him, but there's a strange contentment in being able to know the real Remmick. You think that's the case anyway; it's the only logic you can loosely tie around it. Being allowed to see underneath his mask feels honest; it makes you comfortable enough to feel vulnerable with him, to not have to wear your own mask. It makes you smile, and you assume he sees the way you nod to him with a response.

He tuts down to you with a teasing sound as he leaves a trail of kisses down the column of your neck, past your collarbone, until he flicks his tongue over the clothed nub. You flinch at the touch with a soft moan; you hadn't expected it to feel so sensitive against him. As Remmick's lips wrap around you to suckle through the fabric, there's a heightened sense of how he moulds himself against you. It feels warmer somehow, closer in a way that has the hair on the back of your neck stand up and your skin prickle with a pleasant warmth.

Remmick is as slow as he is careful while he palms your breast, and you wish the light were on so that you could commit the sight to memory. The sensation makes the rising heat inside of you flood south between your thighs, and you can feel that you're already slick with it. You groan at that, unsure why it suddenly feels so warm. Your hips lightly buck as your hand reaches to hold the back of Remmick's head as he continues to mouth and play with you. The gesture has him groan against you, and the noise alone has your cunt rushing with a need you didn't have when you first woke up.

"Rem-mick, I… I want more…" The words come out without your permission as you all but pant. You don't even truly know what you're trying to ask for, and the boldness of your own words has your clit begin to throb for him. You press your mouth into a flat line, trying to stop the needy sounds from slipping out.

He unlatches from your nipple to pull the wet fabric tight and blow cold air over. You shiver with the feeling, and he chuckles against you. "I've gotcha, sweetness. Please, don't hide those pretty sounds from me-" He hovers over you to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "-wanna hear how good ya feel." Your lips part as you nod, letting a delicious blanket of dizziness wash over you.

As Remmick pulls away to get under the covers, you let out a needy whine at the loss while he moves down. He mumbles between little kisses and lingering sucks down your clothed torso. "It won't hurt anymore." You regret not reaching for the light as you feel a light suck against your thigh. The feeling lingers even after he lets go with an audible 'pop' of your skin. Remmick slides your nightgown up above your hips, giving them attention with his lips and tongue until he finally hooks his claws underneath your underwear to pull them down. You hear the sharp gasp from him, followed by a stuttered exhale.

Remmick's eyes go half-lidded at the thick smell of blood. As he slowly moves the garment away, something in his chest flips when he feels compelled to drag his tongue over the used pad. He swallows thickly, unable to stop himself from doing it. Remmick doesn't think he could fight the impulse even if the lights were on to expose him, and his lips tremble when he tastes the remnants of you with a pleased hum. His mind empties of anything else as you allow him to remove your underwear and toss them aside. Remmick hooks your thighs over his shoulders before licking a strong stripe up from your core to your clit with a low moan, ending his actions by pressing a kiss to your swollen bud.

He pulls back just enough for you to hear him whine. "Ain't just blood here fer me, y'er fuckin' soaked." Your cheeks are already ablaze with warmth when he says it, and your hips lift to try and meet his tongue again. There's a laugh like he can't believe it, and he doesn't waste any more time before diving in to lap up the mix of blood and slick that you're already coated with.

Your hands are up by your head as you pant out, unable to think of anything other than Remmick's tongue as you moan. "It's so… so warm." Remmick moans back at the way the taste of you has his cock pulse, and he has to adjust himself in his boxers when his hips start to automatically grind against the mattress.

You bite your lower lip at how true to his words, Remmick's mouth helps to dissolve the pain from your courses until only the surge of lust fills you. It shouldn't be possible so quickly, but you throw logic to the proverbial wind at the wet sounds Remmick makes while groaning into your cunt. Between every hungry drag of his tongue and teasing prod of his nose is a needy kiss between your soaked folds. And Remmick whines as he can feel his pre-cum dripping through the strained fabric of his boxers.

"Rems… I want you to fuck me with your tongue." Your breath catches in your throat as you surprise yourself with it, and immediately after it, there's a needy whimper beneath you.

"My clever girl, telling me what you want. Always tell me." Not needing to be asked again, Remmick forces his tongue into your core with a needy growl.

His cock twitches under him as he grinds his hips down, and his eyelids blissfully fall shut as the blood coats his tongue. His entire mouth moves against your cunt like he's making out with you, and you can hear him swallow any blood he can get between the drool and slick. That familiar taste to you has him stumped as it makes his skin start to warm, florally with an edge of zest. It distantly reminds him of the way your tea smells.

Usually, the feeling of penetration alone has brought you nothing but pain. But now? You're burning up like you've got a fever, and your overly sensitive walls throb as Remmick's tongue plunges into you. Your hips grind your clit against his nose with each thrust, and you're quickly thrown into the throes of your climax. It stretches your voice thin as you gasp for his name, your core clenching around his tongue as you break into a sweat.

Your back arches off the bed as you come in his mouth, and Remmick whimpers unabashedly into your cunt. The taste of your release pushes him over the edge until he's spilling into his boxers, feeling it go straight through the fabric before he can stop it. The sound of your pulse floods his ears until it's the only thing he's fully conscious of. Against his better judgment, Remmick slides his tongue out to sink his dripping fangs into your thigh with a possessive growl.

Remmick's eyes roll back as he pierces your flesh with a wet crunch. That floral note to your blood is much stronger on his tongue, and his softening cock jumps already as he drinks from you.

"Remmick!" You wince at the pain of his bite, but the ache in your core doesn't go away. To your surprise, his intrusion of fangs makes your clit pulse, and despite your annoyance, you groan as your hand shoots down to grab at his hair.

More memories appear to him in your blood, though much weaker than previously. Mostly of himself through your eyes and how fast your heart races every time you look at him. Remmick only knows it's his own face because even in the memories, it appears the same as through the hive; featureless and shadowy.

Remmick only glances at them for a second before his mind becomes pliant at your touch, and though he lets out another growl when you pull him away, he freely does so for you. All resistance to you has completely vanished. "Fuck, I'm gettin' hard again." The grit in his voice makes you shiver. 'Again', the confirmation that he ground into your bed until he came makes you clench around nothing.

While you're distracted by the thoughts of Remmick, he crawls up your body. He carefully settles himself with his forearms on the mattress, either side of you, as he reaches down to plant firm kisses on your throat and jaw. "Wantcha." The single word makes your mind fog as his lips press against your temple to whisper into your skin. Remmick gives a leisurely roll of his hips against your thigh with a short whine like he's proud to show you how hard he is for you.

Then two things hit you at once: you want to see Remmick properly this time, with no darkness to hide in. The second is remembering how you sat in his lap while in the bathtub. You want to ignore your inexperience and try something in that position; something about it felt so intimate and inviting.

The drag of his clothed erection over your folds makes your breath catch. "W-Wait." You feel Remmick flinch at your words, but you tap his forearm to get his attention. You quickly follow up to reassure him that nothing is wrong. "I think… I want to see you." Your cheeks blaze at how you recall how he said the same thing to you not long ago, and you can feel Remmick seem to relax a little.

There's a brush of the back of his fingers over your temple, then a quiet half-laugh. "Forgot that ya can't see…" When his weight shifts above you to turn the small lamp on, you blink a few times for your eyes to adjust. You see that Remmick's are scrunched shut, seemingly waiting for his eyes to do the same before he peeks open and returns to you.

Before he can settle, you raise to give a gentle push to his shoulder, trying to get him to move. Remmick's brows raise a little as he lets you manoeuvre him until he's on his back, and you catch him swallow as you swing your leg over to straddle him.

Remmick's lips twitch as his hands pull at your hips so that your folds are flush to his wet fabric stretched over his cock. Your jaw goes slack when he throbs underneath you. "Ya gonna ride me, sweet girl~?" The teasing lilt to his voice can't hide how excited he is. All you can do is nod in response as you nibble at your bottom lip. The heat you feel makes you take the bottom of your nightgown, slowly peeling it up above your head to cast it aside. When you look back at Remmick, his eyes are half-lidded, and the way his red stare sweeps over your body makes your hips twitch against him. A sigh escapes you both at the feeling, and you grin at the way his fingers tighten on you.

You know he could already see you in the dark, but this feels… different, somehow. Likely because you can see yourself as well, it fills you with a pang of nerves you haven't felt in a while. The realisation makes you want to shrink down, and Remmick's brow creases as he catches it. "Nah. None'a that, dove." You don't even realise you've crossed your arms over yourself until Remmick is moving them out of the way, eager to drink in the sight of you. "Y'er a damn vision... Gorgeous." It makes your face heat to see his tipsy smile, like he's trying to commit every inch of your body to memory.

He lets his hand trace up your side and to your breast, brushing a thumb over your nipple and squeezing firmly at you with his palm. "Y'er gonna make me hungrier fer ya than I already am, darlin'." It helps to feel less concerned with how you look, and you push into his touch in response. The two of you both briefly break to impatiently tug his undershirt up and over his head. You take the time to really drink in the sight of Remmick; his flushed face is a nice contrast to the faint, silver scars that pepper his body. There hadn't been much time to take in his body before; now you can't help but stare hungrily. Your fingers trace over his broad torso without you thinking to do it; he's a delicious mix of soft and strong without being overly-defined, and you watch the way his thick muscles flex and squirm impatiently under your touch. It's the first time you see Remmick really falter in taking the lead since you woke up, and you hear it in the way your light touches begin to make him pant.

Unable to ignore the way arousal floods your core, you help to slide the tacky boxers down until his cock hits his stomach with an obscene slap that makes his stomach flex. You remove them completely, wetting your lips as you grind down onto the length of him. The feeling has you both shiver with how wet the sensation is between both of your release.

Impatiently, you carefully take his cock in your hand as you line yourself up with him. Remmick's breath hitches quietly when your entrance catches on his leaking tip, and he fidgets underneath you while he waits. When you take your time sinking down onto him, a strangled groan seeps out of him, and his eyes turn glassy with the tight heat. You gasp at the way the head stretches your soaked walls apart, unable to help but cry out at the full feeling. It makes your head dizzy with the snug fit, and you let yourself slide down until your hips are flush with Remmick's. The moment it happens, Remmick's body lurches so he's sat up on his forearms, like being inside forced him into the position.

His teeth grit, and you can feel his legs shake underneath you. "Shit- Takin' all of me-" He can't stop himself from grinding up into you once, drawing a gasp from you at how deep he reaches. You shove Remmick's chest so that he's lying back down, not meaning to be quite so rough, though it pulls a submissive whine from him when you do. Your hand stays on his chest, and he silently watches you through half-lidded eyes, taking it as a sign not to move his hips while you adjust.

"Please… mo-ve." He pants out almost under his breath as his mouth goes slack.

You can feel him twitching inside you for any kind of friction, and though you raise yourself to sink back onto his cock, you feel a little flustered as you admit that you're not sure how to. "I-I don't know how, help."

Remmick exhales with a half grin as his brows furrow up like he finds something cute. "Oh, c'mere." He nods as he takes you by your hips, and you let him guide you against him. It's slow at first, and you hadn't anticipated just how good it would feel for you. Your hand instinctively shoots up to cover your mouth as you stifle a surprised moan, but Remmick growls underneath you, straight from his chest. It sounds vaguely like a warning, and you manage to rip your hand away to grip the bed frame instead as you grind down onto him.

You let your noises fall freely into Remmick's ears, the feeling of him inside so good that it melts away any self-consciousness you may have otherwise felt. The way Remmick admires you in complete awe gives you no reason to question yourself.

When you finally feel like you know what you're doing, you let go of the bed frame to place your hands over his. Your brows furrow as a mental fog pushes other thoughts from your mind, and you move in a way that has pleasure curling deliciously in your stomach with each drag of him against your walls.

Beyond the pressure building deep in you, the glassy feeling in your mind is almost overwhelming. All you want is to hit your peak that feels tantalisingly close yet just out of reach. "I feel drunk." Your words come out slurred, and your head tips back. It isn't meant as an analogy; there's a warmth still burning in your throat, and you feel like you've been steadily drinking that stolen moonshine in your kitchen for hours. Right now, you're too swept up in it to pay any attention to the way the room sways around you. It doesn't take long for the muscles in your thighs to burn, while the lingering numbness from his bite begins to melt away.

He briefly acknowledges you telling him that you feel drunk, and the words vaguely skip over his thoughts as he recognises that he feels giddy. "Me too." Completely misunderstanding you, Remmick gladly welcomes how you're making him feel, thinking he's having that effect on you, too. His smile certainly looks tipsy, completely lost in you as his hand slides to your front, just below your belly to press lightly against the skin. It's enough for you to notice, though your eyes slip shut when you can't block the sudden thoughts of Remmick getting you pregnant. Despite Remmick's thirst, you still think yourself lucky for the timing of your courses.

Remmick's eyes lock onto your neck as you put it on full display, and something about seeing the mark he'd previously left on your shoulder has his body screaming out for you. His. He swallows, fixated as his breathing struggles to keep steady. The idea had certainly tried to force itself into his mind before, but this feels different. More intimate, exchangeable. Yours. Seeing the bite, as well as the others on display… it floods him with unmatched feelings of possession that don't make sense to him. Not that he cares; they don't need to. He can't focus on much else as the drool begins to drip freely out from his mouth again.

The possession leaks into the short growl that slips out of Remmick, and the submission you had heard previously morphs into something darker. "Such a good girl, takin’ whatcha need from me.” It's the first time you've heard praise like that, and you whine quietly in approval as your walls clench tightly around him. Remmick only sounds smug at your reaction. "Oh… She likes that, eh? Look at me when you take yer praise, darlin'." You feel his claws delicately slide up the plains of your stomach, over a breast where he lingers, before letting go to wrap those fingers around your throat. It makes you flinch, forcing your eyes to shoot open before you realise he isn't actually applying pressure to you, only that he's pulling your focus back into the room. There's a broken moan that slides out under his fingers, and he hums with approval when he feels it vibrate out of you. When he does press the smallest bit, you're already so light-headed that you have no option but to watch Remmick through half-lidded eyes as the fiery heat coils impossibly tight inside you.

Without warning, the tight waves of heat inside you snap all at once, and your walls are clenching around his cock hard enough to drag him to the edge with you. You watch as his fangs grit tightly, and as your hips still, Remmick thrusts up into you to chase his second climax.

There's a sudden tug on your arm, and you fall forward with the way Remmick snatches your wrist towards his mouth. The familiar icy sting of his bite makes you wince, and his eyes completely glaze over as he rolls his hips into you. It's enough to wrench the air from your lungs. Somehow, when you shove your other hand against Remmick's jaw, he lets go just enough to free yourself. You press your palm up under his chin, hard enough to snap it shut before he moves to bite you again. The clack of his fangs seems to startle Remmick enough that you can only glare down at him as you near-yell. "Stop!"

Remmick's upper lip curls like he's trying to suppress a snarl from fully taking shape. Some muddy memory floats past you: a patient visiting you after a dog bite. They had mentioned something that sounded ridiculous at the time, but now…

An angry noise rips out of you in response to Remmick, fed up with him leaving marks on your body. "See how you like it-" You shove your hand against the side of his face, forcing him to turn into the pillow as you surge forwards. Without a word, you bite him back, right where his neck meets his shoulder.

"Wait!" Remmick immediately freezes up as you sink your teeth into him; the adrenaline coursing through you makes you unable to assess how hard you bite him. It's with more force than intended and just hard enough to break skin; there's a taste of copper on your tongue, with layers of something darker sitting restless underneath.

With a torn cry from Remmick, he shivers underneath you while you feel his cock twitch inside. A flushed colour is spreading up his neck from your bite, and you don't let go until the sudden warmth of his release floods your walls. You weren't expecting it, and it pulls a surprised whine around his neck. The bite had only meant to try and retaliate, but his claws are gripping your hips so tightly that it's as if it set him off. Arousal rushes through you as you realise that there's enough that you feel it dripping out of you with every weak thrust Remmick makes, until it runs down his balls and onto the sheets beneath.

When you pull back, Remmick's eyes are wide as he stares up at you. More than that, he seems to be mouthing something to himself as his pupils expand, entirely blown out and almost completely eclipsing the razor-thin ring of crimson still visible. If you could think clearly, you would be confident that Remmick was drugged, but the notion doesn't stay with you long enough to dwell on it.

"Rems..?" A twinge of worry cracks through you, concerned that he's actually hurt, until a blush sits heavy on his cheeks and he's whining under his breath. You ignore the way the tang of his blood should make you cringe, but it doesn't.

There's a staggered whimper that splinters out from Remmick as his eyes skim between your eyes and the red on your mouth. "C-Cheangail… tú mé leat…"

The atmosphere in the room shatters for Remmick, completely fractured until you're the only thing he can take note of or comprehend.

His need for you is amplified within moments of the contact. Your teeth lay claim to him in a way that has Remmick tremble under you against his will. The immediate need for connection to you blazes underneath his skin like something trying to claw its way out. Something dormant and searching for you. Remmick is panting hard with staggered sounds that keep cutting short, struggling to catch his breath alongside the layer of sweat beginning to coat him.

Whatever ancient force scrambles inside of his veins in search of you, it's as if Remmick can hear it barking demands to find what's his.

His mate.

Yours.

Remmick's jaw tightens as he tries to fight against the feeling; he never wanted a mate. He's seen what it does to his kind.

So why…

…

…Is he filled with such a strong urge for more? It ignites and pulses through his whole being until his entire world narrows down to you. After trying to fight it internally, suddenly, nothing else matters. Only you.

He wants to be enraged about it, a stupid mistake he could have avoided, but the flare of anger fizzles out from under him until it's not even a frustrated echo in the room. Long forgotten in the space of seconds, replaced with a need to sate you, and the fresh mark seared into his skin.

Your brows scrunch, unsure what Remmick is talking about. His hips shift underneath you, and there's an odd throb at the base of his cock that forces a shallow gasp from you. "Fu-ck- Y..Ya made… made me yers." Your face heats at that; it doesn't make any sense to you. It's unclear what kind of joke he is trying to make, but the way he stares up distracts you... It's like Remmick is watching you as if you were something holy.

He only breaks eye contact with you long enough to drag two fingers over the area you managed to puncture; the blood is undeniable proof of your bond in his eyes. The sight of it pulls an odd, strangled groan from him, and his cock jerks inside you so much that your walls involuntarily tighten around him each time.

Your jaw goes completely slack as he slows down, not completely stopping, and you fall forward to plant your hands on his chest. The slow movements make you rock back against him, neither of you able to stop, even in the joint buzz of your orgasms that doesn't satisfy either of you. You spy the bite mark you left behind; for whatever reason, you feel an unfamiliar pull in your chest if you glance at it. You have to assume it's the guilt of biting Remmick hard enough to draw blood. Without any thought to your actions, you lean down to lick a slow stripe across the small wound. It earns a wet moan from Remmick that makes your stomach flutter, and you take your time as you do it again, and again, and again until it stops bleeding. Something subconscious takes over as you show your affection, until Remmick is making a sound you can only describe as a sort of purr that vibrates under your tongue.

Remmick's voice cracks out in a whisper, and he feels heat rush to his lower abdomen in knots at the way your tongue feels. "I-I'm… Oh god- Tell me- Tell me I'm yers, please." Despite any previous disinterest, he wants to hear it, needs to hear you say it.

Despite the burning of your thighs forcing you to stop moving the way you were, you don't want to. You can't seem to stop your hips from stuttering flush against Remmick's cock. Especially not when his whispered begging makes you flush with unbearable heat that rushes through you. You comply without hesitation, and your core pulses as you coo back to him after one final kiss to the fresh bite. "You're all mine, Rem." Remmick whines in response, it shouldn't mean anything to you; you're just helping him get through this ordeal, but you can't deny the way saying those words makes you feel lightheaded, and something almost does feel like a real claim. Intense and more special than you expected.

The sound of both of your releases echoes loud enough that if your body weren't already on fire, you could probably combust. "Something's- God, it's not enough- I want more-" The sight of what appears to be a thin line of drool leaking from the corner of your open mouth makes Remmick's eyes widen. A quiet snarl curls out of his throat, momentarily thinking you turned after all, and being flooded with frustration that it isn't the case.

Remmick lets his hand drop from your throat to take one of your hands, distantly realising that something has happened for you to feel as desperate as he is still. He licks his lips, and through the mind fog, he manages to sit up to plant a firm kiss on one of your nipples. His claws reach behind your hips to still you, and you whine quietly when he forces the friction to stop.

He feels himself twitch hard inside you while he draws the hardened bud into his mouth, gently grazing his fangs over the sensitive skin as he sucks at it for a moment. When he lets go, it's with a teasing 'pop' that sends a shiver running through you. "I've gotcha, y'er doin' so well." You give a small nod in return and reluctantly let him pull you off his cock. It's your turn to feel like a wounded animal that needs help.

You want to protest, but he moves you forward so that you fall onto your hands and knees, a position that you're more familiar with. The familiarity of it makes you instinctively brace for pain, but you feel something wet give a firm swipe up from your clit to your leaking entrance. It makes your shoulders flinch before you peer back enough to know that it's Remmick's tongue on you. It has you keen and rock against Remmick's tongue, and your face is burning at the distant thought that he's lapping up release from both of you. "Rems, that's… you're filthy-" Whatever you were going to say dissolves into nothing as Remmick plunges his tongue inside you, and all you can do is whine with need as he lightly chuckles into your folds.

The thought should disgust you, but all you can think of is how much Remmick wants you, and how perfect he feels against you. Even more so, when he mewls into your cunt for 'more', you don't have to see to know there's a heavy blush over his face. Remmick's tongue eagerly finds your clit, swirling over it with tight circles and kitten licks before he latches his lips around to suckle you. Your eyes roll back in your head as you squirm against his face, his name falling from your lips with your thin panting. There's a muffled hum from him, admiring how sensitive you are, then you feel his hands trail up your legs until they grip the crease of where your ass meets your thighs. He lets go of your sensitive bud to slide his tongue back up to your cunt, dipping inside with a groan at the taste of blood that greets him. Remmick's hands lightly pull at your cheeks, spreading you as much as he can to reach as much blood as he can manage. Your breath hitches when you feel something else prod at your entrance, realising it's a claw trying to ease into you.

A surge of panic hits you at the thought, forcing you to stay still. "-No. Remmick, don't-" You feel him pause behind you, two thirds of his finger already sunk into you as though he didn't realise what he was doing. With a remarkable show of restraint you didn't know he had, Remmick carefully slides the digit out from you, though he still crooks it on the way out to gather any blood he can. He swallows around the drool trickling from his mouth as he removes his tongue to trace up the claw, licking himself clean with a quiet moan.

The reaction to your fear relaxes you, and you suddenly remember Remmick's words from earlier. 'Always tell me.' It clicks into place for you that it doesn't just need to mean anything good, though you're too far gone to feel silly for not considering it sooner.

When Remmick is done removing the blood from his claw, he pauses behind you to breathe out with soft pants against your wet skin. It makes you shiver and clench around nothing. You aren't expecting his tongue again, certainly not when he drags it up even further until the tip runs over your puckered hole. You gasp his name as he flicks the end over you, and he lets go just enough to give a whisper of a dark laugh against you. "Reckon ye'd let me in here too, wouldn't ya?" The tip of a claw traces your hole, and it forces your brows up in pleasure with how sensitive it feels. You don't answer him; it's too dizzying from the new sensation as he slyly licks into you with a short whine. It cuts your breath short as you push your hips back against him, completely new to the thought and finding it overwhelming at how taboo it feels.

"Pl-Please… Stop teasing me." You lean down to shove your mouth against your forearm, then there's another soft laugh from Remmick, melding into a sound of awe. Before you have time to wonder about it, you feel him sit up onto his knees behind you. When he presses the fat head of his cock against your folds, you groan impatiently into your skin.

"Can't help it… Fuck- Ya look so good f'me." Remmick splays his claws over your back, and you peer up to see something you wouldn't have otherwise spotted.

The mirror.

Except you can only see yourself. The second your eyes meet your reflection, Remmick thrusts up against you like he's waiting for you to make the connection. Your mouth forms a small 'o' shape as he stuffs himself fully inside you, deep enough at this angle that your eyes tear up with how sensitive your walls feel. Your thighs lightly shake as his claws move to your hips, gripping you and pulling almost all of the way out to bully his way back inside. The pace is slow but hard, and you can't seem to look away from your reflection; like your brain can't connect not seeing Remmick and feeling so full of him that you move forward with each thrust. His thrusts are hard enough that you can hear his balls slap against you while you watch your tits bounce. "See? So pretty on my cock. My little fawn. Gonna look so good filled with me." A claw briefly traces down your side and under to your stomach, making your breath hitch at the implication of it. You make sure to note it somewhere in the back of your mind.

You're so full that you can only give shaky sounds for more, not meaning to sound so needy for it. "There she is, still grippin' me so tight- like she doesn't wanna let go, fuck-" The familiar position feels anything but to you, only good as he plunges into you, faster than before, and you realise Remmick is just as desperate for more as you are. More than anything else, you're met with an overwhelming need for him to come inside you again. Like it's the only thing your body is burning for, the only thing that will quell it.

The dizziness of your mind does a wonderful job of removing any filter previously set. "Rem-mick, feels s..so good." That gets a groan from behind you, and you feel brave enough to meet each of his thrusts experimentally, met with his broken moans that sound higher than before. "P..Please, need you- c..come ins..ide~" The second your request travels up and into Remmick's ears, he can't hold back any longer; whatever was previously dormant takes over him.

You expect him to be faster, but Remmick leans forward until he's arched over you. There isn't any noise before his fangs are already scraping your neck. Your eyes widen, not with fear, but something you can't name, enough to subconsciously turn your head to let him bite you. As though your body is privy to information you don't have. To your surprise, there are only a few puffs of air against your skin before Remmick's fangs are on your skin, not drawing blood, but holding you in place. His hips slam into yours, and each thrust is punctuated by the panting audible through Remmick's bared teeth. You can't see the way Remmick's red eyes bore into you from behind, wild as he acts on some new instinct rather than anything else. You can only see a set of claws gripping into the bedsheet below, trembling with need as his other hand is splayed under you to keep you pressed to him.

Somehow, they change before your eyes. A series of sick 'pops' sounds from Remmick's fingers as they seem to shift and extend as he grips the sheets tighter. You feel it on your stomach, his longer digits, tipped in claws as sharp as razors. The danger of it sends excitement coursing through your body instead of the panic that ought to.

Your chest fights for air as he stuffs you full with each snap of his hips, bullying your walls in a way that has you bordering on overstimulated and seeing stars. Exactly what your body needs right now. Your ears are filled with the carnal chuffs Remmick is making; more animalistic than anything else you have heard from him. The noise alongside the intimate nature of how close you press against each other goes beyond sex; it wordlessly screams something else unknown to you that you can't figure out.

Before you try to grasp the words, Remmick grunts through his teeth. "Mine. Mo shíol. An corp seo.” That language you don't comprehend spills out of him in breathless punches, like he can't stop it. You don't recognise anything except the claiming edge to it.

You swear you feel the base of his cock pulse inside you again, but you don't care in this moment.

His voice cracks into desperate pieces as his thighs tremble with each thrust. “Tá mé ag teacht!” Remmick ruts into you until he bottoms out with one final, harsher motion. With a throaty whimper that eases into a drawn-out growl, you feel him shiver as he empties himself into you again. The heat of it is intense, so much of him that it forces your walls to rhythmically snap around him again as you cry out.

Remmick's hips give shallow thrusts into you even after he's done, overstimulating himself until it's all too much for him. When he finally stills, he's still holding you close like he's scared to let go. You aren't sure why that makes your heart flutter the way it does, but you love the way Remmick affectionately presses sated kisses to your neck and down the top of your spine. Even with the occasional sweep of his tongue over the sweat on your skin.

You wait for him to pull out, but he doesn't. Between the soft pants that are beginning to level out, he whispers to you in a hoarse breath. “Ba mhaith… fanacht ionat…" Remmick wets his lips as he catches his breath, shaking his head lightly to clear it, enough to try again. "Wanna… stay..." Your cheeks burn as he shifts his hips to highlight his point that his words can't seem to manage right now. Although you can't see him in the mirror, you peer up as if you can. The tiredness seeps into your bones, and you only nod, getting a pleased whimper from him as he slowly manoeuvres you both to lie on your side, still connected at the hips.

Remmick doesn't question why he feels compelled to do it; he only lets the need to stay inside you consume him. When you agree, his chest swells, pleased that you would let him.

When your head rests against the pillow, you feel dazed. Despite the longer claws on the end of Remmick's fingers, when one hand threads underneath your pillow, you find that it brings you a great deal of comfort.

His other clawed hand pulls the covers over you, before they snake underneath to rest on your stomach. You're surprised by how quickly Remmick seems to doze off; you can only assume that's the case from the steady purring against you. You don't check to see if you're right before you let the exhaustion consume you whole, and you drift off enclosed in his arms.

The warm yellow of the sun is barely peaking through the curtains, and a lone sunbeam has been slowly creeping through the room as though in search of something. It shines over your face, bright enough to make your eyes scrunch as you shift your face away from it. A smile glosses over you as you feel that Remmick still has you in his arms.

You want to relax back into a snooze, but it immediately hits you that if you stay like this, Remmick will get hurt. The truth and seriousness of it jolt you awake. Your mind goes back to seeing him for the first time, skin blistered and damaged. The thought makes you reach for a blanket to slide over Remmick while you get up, except when you try to move, you note with a hitched breath that the two of you are still joined from the night before. A breathy moan is knocked out of you as you realise, and when you try to shift your hips, you feel your walls clench around his soft length.

There's a twitch inside you in response, and you slap a palm over your mouth to stifle any noise. Your walls gently clench as you carefully shimmy out of Remmick's grasp, pulling away from his cock until sliding out of him completely has you shiver. There's a soft noise from Remmick in his sleep, and you remain stock still until you know he hasn't woken.

You cringe at the state of yourself, partly disgusted at the way Remmick's spend already begins to roll down your thighs when you stand. It's something you force out of your mind as you tuck the curtains into place, removing the last of the sunlight out of the room. The feel of the fabric in your fingers helps to ground you, and your hands linger there as you think. If you wanted to, you could snap the curtains wide open; you know it would kill Remmick and likely in an instant.

But you don't want that.

Maybe when you first met Remmick, but now? That knee-jerk reaction to harming him, gun or otherwise, had melted away from you. Yes, a part of you pitied him for whatever had sent his body haywire, but the truth is: you know that really, you would have wanted him anyway. The longing disguised as hate or anger for him while Remmick was gone, it festered inside until your feelings were polluted. You still don't forgive him for leaving, but his current problems have blindsided you, and realistically, you hope that it will be easier to address once this has all calmed down. If it also means that Remmick doesn't completely drain you, then all the better.

For all his scary pieces, you don't want him gone. That was putting it mildly. An odd feeling tugs at your chest from beneath your ribs, unfamiliar to you and wanting. Logically speaking, you should be terrified that a monster currently lies in your bed, but instead… You thumb the rough floral pattern of the curtain before you let go… No, instead, you might say that you care for him. Cautiously, you walk to his side of the bed, pulling the blanket back down just enough to stop at the back of his head.

If it weren't for whatever… this was, you might have been more easily swayed that his feelings were genuine. That hurts to acknowledge that anything he expresses towards you must be tainted by the state that he is in. Not that either of you knows what it is, exactly. Something about it reminds you of aphrodisiacs you once read about; mentions of oysters, chocolate, some herbs and the like. Not that you think Remmick could eat anything like that, as far as you are aware.

A dull pain tugs at your lower abdomen, and as your hand finds your stomach to absently soothe it, your eyes widen. Wordlessly, you slowly let your eyes drift to the empty cup of tea still on the bedside table.

Your tea.

Vervain. Tea.

There's a small gasp from you as your hand covers your mouth straight away. It couldn't be. Remmick didn't even drink it.

…But he did drink from you, and the herb would be coursing through you since the moment that Remmick found you, when he sank his teeth into your shoulder. The realisation of it all has your head spinning; you might have essentially drugged him without even meaning to. A burning feeling creeps over your face as you hurry out of the room and down the stairs.

You don't want to think about what any of that would mean for anything said or done between you. Not until you're alone to begin to process it.

First, you need to wash up and get some fresh air.

Cheangail tú mé leat = You bound yourself to me / You bound me to you

Mo shíol. An corp seo. = My seed. This body.

Tá mé ag teacht! = I’m coming!

Ba mhaith liom fanacht ionat. - I want to stay inside you.

━━━━━━━━━━━

With a pause, Remmick flicks through a plethora of excuses and lands on simply giving a half-truth. He wets his lips and gives a small shrug, pretending like he missed the way your voice quakes. “Had a couple’a things to take care of… You gonna lower the gun now, sweetness?” His eyes don’t move from yours despite the threat pointed at him, acting as though you haven’t shot him before, despite knowing you very well might again. “It won’t kill me by any stretch, as you know. But it hurts somethin’ awful all the same.”

Remmick observes you, spotting the way your own eyes narrow in response to his nickname like you're not certain what to make of it. The gun points downwards slightly, and, trying his luck, Remmick steps towards you. Your response is delayed, but you do take a half-step backwards.

“You said you didn’t have any place to be.” Your brows pinch, and he can tell there's a hurt seeping into your words from his previous lie. He hates the way his gut twists with something foreign at the sound that he caused.

He pushes past it and ignores any inkling that this could be a mistake. Though it sounds like you may actually care, and it’s encouraging enough to tackle the brittle nature of the conversation. “We playin’ our question game again? Only, you seemed to enjoy yourself so much last time.” The teasing grin plastered onto his face hides the uncertainty of whether you’ll shoot him. Remembering how you felt against him that night certainly helps the expression feel real, despite the memory stabbing at him with hunger. Mentioning it out loud seems to work as a distraction; enough for him to sneak close to grab the barrel of the gun and ease it to the side without letting go.

No sooner does he move the gun does a gentle night breeze carries a sweet scent of blood straight to him. His stomach jumps at what must be your blood, followed by the scent of someone else, straight to Remmick. It has his brows furrow with confusion in response, but he tilts his head back to let the smell of blood envelop his senses. Remmick’s eyes close as he swallows away any spike of thirst, immediately trying to dismiss it. It’s easier to do with the obnoxiously strong scent of someone on you, male and overbearing. He reaches out into Ambrose’s mind; even stuck under layers of dirt where Remmick had left him, he plucks a memory of some man who lives near enough to be friendly with you.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Your eyes widen when you snap out of the recollection of the last time you met, then you’re a little flustered at how close Remmick suddenly stands next to you. A shred of panic runs through you when his nostrils flare. Your blood must be easy to pick up on, and it becomes clear that you’re not going to be able to hide your courses from him, much to your humiliation.

You start to try and explain things, knowing you would likely never live it down.“Remmick-” 

“-Did he hurt you, darlin’?” His voice is soft despite demanding an answer from you. The only thing you manage to do is stare at Remmick. When he opens his eyes again to glance back at you, they watch with a different kind of intensity.

“...Who?” The question takes you by surprise, but Thomas springs to mind as you try to feign unawareness of what Remmick is asking. You don’t know how he knows about Thomas, but maybe you can keep your tide a secret after all.  At first, you think he’s purely hungry, but the way his eyes dart over your body for signs of injury makes you wonder if he’s genuinely concerned. You try to move backwards away from the scrutiny, but Remmick’s grip on your gun is tighter than you realised. If it comes to it, you wonder if you can talk him down.

━━━━━━━━━━━

“Don’t play dumb, we both know you’re not.” Remmick’s jealousy spikes inside of him, secondary to the concern he feels for you. He shouldn’t feel it, shouldn’t have let it pull him across from the other side of the map. Yet there it is anyway, and here he stands.

“He’s my friend.” Your answer irritates him; not because he wants you to have been hurt, but because the jump in your pulse makes it sound like a lie. It’s only made worse that you don’t deny that your friend might have indeed hurt you, especially with his scent all over you.

“Must be awfully close to reek of him” The possessive feeling forces a tiny growl to escape the corner of his mouth, much to some dismay, for you to see a glimpse of his actual feelings. His grip on the metal tightens as his eyes slide to your neck. Something inside of him shouts to replace the stranger’s scent with his own. As fast as possible.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Your mouth falls agape at his insinuation; it makes you defensive, like your hackles are sticking up. So much for de-escalating anything with words. You scoff at him, temporarily forgetting what he is as you chastise him. “That is none of your business, Remmick.”

His expression twists in a way that mimics your own frustration. “It is my business. Why can I smell blood on you, pet? If he's hurt you, I'll-”

“-You’ll do what? ‘Pretend’ to care again?” Your voice blurts out in a mocking tone to try hiding how you really feel.

Remmick looks stunned until he pulls your gun with a sharp tug so that you stumble forward, now face-to-face with him. He grabs your chin firmly but not painfully, though the movement still makes you flinch. You fidget until you make eye contact with him, and suddenly, the woods are silent as he speaks loud and clear.

“If he lays a hand on what’s mine again, I’ll put him in the fuckin’ ground.” His crimson stare is positively wild as he forces you to look at him. There’s nothing cocky or funny in his features anymore, and the words send a shiver through you as you try to digest them. His.

It has you breathing heavier than you mean to, and you feel your grip on the gun slipping. Your cheeks are still flushed with heat, but his statement has your core pulsing. Surely he couldn’t mean that, hell, you don’t know if he even realises what he said. You stare at him until it looks like the gravity of his words dawns on him.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Remmick swallows as he notes exactly what he said to you, having let the bitterness get the better of him. Instead of retreating, he lets his instincts push him to take the chance in front of him this time. Remmick’s other hand lets go of the gun to hold the other side of your face, making your breath lightly hitch, and he distantly registers how your cheek burns against his cool palm. When you don’t try to pull away, your breath ghosts over each other’s mouths, and he scans your face through half-lidded eyes. Like he’s looking for any signal to stop. You don’t give him any, so he slowly leans in to capture your mouth with his own.

______

You sharply inhale through your nose, and despite any lingering apprehension of him, your willpower simply crumbles away. Your eyes fall shut, startled at how astonishingly gentle it is to start with, as if he’s afraid he’ll break you with his feather-light touch. But when you dare to kiss him back, a quiet hum of approval sounds from Remmick, and the kiss deepens as it quickly becomes feverish. 

The dull feeling of tree bark cutting into your back only barely signals in your mind. Remmick’s teeth clack clumsily against yours like he's been starving for a taste of you. Your head swims when his tongue brushes over your lower lip for access. You both gasp, but he whines softly into your mouth, and your stomach jumps at the sound. At the same time, Remmick’s trembling hand finds your ass through your clothes, you can’t help but squirm against the touch for more.

The thought of where your gun is crosses your mind for the briefest second while your empty hands find Remmick’s hair, but beyond that, you couldn’t care less in this moment. Your brows turn up with pleasure at the feeling of his tongue on yours, and your fingers reflexively pull at his tresses. If sin had a taste, then his kiss was the closest you would get. You weren’t expecting the soft moan from Remmick in response to the light tug, and it makes your heart flutter with delight when you hear it.

He breaks away from you to rest his forehead against yours. His question pants out of him in a slurred whisper, your noses just barely grazing against each other’s. “Y’want me t’stop?” His question makes something inside your chest buckle in a way you’re unfamiliar with, almost hurting with the foreign reassurance that he would check with you.

As if you could stop even if you wanted to.

His eyes are still closed like he's bracing for the worst, but you faintly shake your head. “No.” Remmick’s shoulders shift like he’s relieved, capturing your lips again almost immediately after you permit him. Any shyness starts to drain out of you upon hearing his need for you.

Slowly, Remmick dares to slide a knee between your legs to part them, and you let his leg move slowly right against your clit just right. The small noises that he pulls from you seem to please him, judging from the way his clothed length stirs against your thigh. For a moment, your mind wanders to the last time you met, recalling the reaction you got from him with your mouth around his thumb. You inwardly smirk and pull back enough to wrap your lips around his tongue and gently suckle him.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Remmick’s staggered whimper slips out of him before he has a chance to stop it. If he had any shame left, he’d feel embarrassed at the lapse in control. Instead, to his own surprise, it excites him and makes his hips grind against yours without his permission, and he forces himself to break free of your kiss. He buries his face in your neck and tries to ignore the way he’s panting for air he doesn’t truly need. He breathes in the faint scent of rose that he’s missed so much. Stronger than that is the smell of your blood, still stained on the inside of his mind, and despite not knowing the source, it’s quickly becoming all he can think about. If the blood isn’t from a visible injury, then… a pleasant shiver runs through him at the prospect of meeting you again at the right time of the month. He considers whether you would let him taste you in such a debauched way; the thought alone makes his undead pulse dance.

━━━━━━━━━━━ 

He presses open kisses to where your neck meets your shoulder, starting to slyly nibble at the skin. The feeling makes you shiver as you pull away from his mouth with a quiet warning. “Remmick.”

“-‘m sorry, can't help it. Smell so good, my body's screaming at me to bite ya.” Your core jolts at how casually Remmick mentions biting you.

Despite the threat of being turned, you feel yourself melt against the way he mouths impatiently at your neck, and you feel the faintest nudge of his fangs against your skin, as if he's struggling to control himself. All the while, his fingers wander from your ass to sneak over to hike up your skirts at the front, and you catch the way he freezes when your underwear is exposed.

His brows pinch as he catches a fresh wave of your blood, and the look of realisation slams into him like a punch to the gut. As if to confirm it, to make his hopes real, Remmick leans back enough to peer down, his eyes flicking between your garment and your expression to look for any sign to stop. His tongue runs over his teeth as he watches his hand dip underneath your underwear. His breath falters lightly as he parts your lips, and you let out a drawn-out cry when he slowly circles your clit a few times before moving further down to sink a finger into your core impatiently. You’re so distracted by the new sort of attention, unsure why Thomas had never bothered with any of it before, that you completely forget about your courses until Remmick's finger is already pumping away inside of you.

You cover your mouth, absolutely mortified at his actions, but don't make any attempt to stop him. How could you with how intensely his eyes are glued to you? He looks partly dazed as he slowly pushes in a second finger, crooking his digits as he moves like he's trying to reach something at the back of you. You're braced for the familiar pain, but to your shock, it doesn't hurt in the least; in fact, the feeling is so good that it has your head tipping back against the tree when he finds whatever spot he was looking for.

Remmick immediately leans forward to lick up your throat before pressing a kiss under your chin and muttering quietly. “Knew I smelt blood on you, darlin’.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

There's a smug feeling flooding through Remmick’s veins when he hears your moans slip through your fingers. It's only exacerbated by the way you stretch around his fingers. You push your hand against your mouth harder to try to muffle your desperate little mewls that fall out of it. When his fingers are sufficiently coated, he draws out his hand and sighs sweetly at the glimpse of red on his fingers. His eyes flicker back to yours as he brings his hand up to his lips, and you watch him brush his tongue over the soaked fingers. You're unsure if you should be disgusted or thrilled by the way his eyes flutter shut as he sucks the mix of blood and slick away with a satisfied groan and a lazy smile.

━━━━━━━━━━━

It's the first time you've spotted the glint of his fangs as he tastes you. You hesitate, but don't stop him from delving forward to kiss your neck as he mumbles sweet nothings into your skin that has your stare turn half-lidded. “Y'taste so good, sweetness... Oh, knew you would...”

You bring a hand to the back of his neck, stroking playful circles into the skin that has his hips hitching and drool seeping from his lips onto you. “Remmick, you're drooling.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

He doesn’t take notice of your words as he starts to pant against your neck and his fangs ache to sink into you, like they’re being physically pulled towards the blood under your skin. His eyes close tightly as he tries to steady himself, unable to push away the thought of the blood between your legs. Not now that he’s had a taste of you, and certainly not with the knowledge it isn’t from whatever that man’s name is. A pang of jealousy lashes at his chest again when he thinks of what that other man could have done, why he can smell him on you, even if it's faintly now. Picturing his hands on you is enough to make a quiet growl slip out of him.

“Lemme get rid of his scent.” he doesn't realise he's muttering out loud, a possessive edge clinging to his quiet voice. “Lemme bite you.”

“I-” The grind of his hips into you cuts off your words, pulling a low moan out of you instead. He makes no sound as he pretends to wait for a response, until he can’t take the singing in his blood any more. You simply take too long for him to be able to reason with himself.

He quickly moves to kiss your temple apologetically, trailing down hungry kisses down the column of your neck until he reaches your shoulder. He drags the fabric of your dress away from your shoulder to press his lips to you. “I-I’m…sorry..” Only a flicker of regret runs behind his glassy eyes before he lets his fangs pierce your skin.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Being scrubbed clean from any trace of Thomas sounds like a blessing, but being turned is more than a step too far by any measure. No sooner have you mentally questioned his apology, you feel it. 

The sound is a crunch of ice ringing in your ears. Colder still is the feeling of his teeth sinking into you, though the gasp wrenched from you is from the frosty sensation rather than any pain. To your surprise, Remmick is a lot more gentle than you predicted his bite would be, almost dulling. His hands cup your face and shoulder as he drinks with small gulps, with you frozen to the spot.

The pleasant numbness that spreads through you is a welcome surprise. As well as any previous worried thoughts that simply fall out of your head. Your legs part more as he pushes himself further against you, and you smile at the way his cock pulses against you. A twisted sense of pride bleeds into your psyche at the knowledge that it's you making him react this way. Your blood that's feeding his needs in this lustful way. You should feel frightened; you can barely cling to the irony of it all, the time you had spent scared of him when you had been at your safest indoors. 

Remmick’s eyes roll into the back of his head at the first burst of crimson on his tongue. Nothing enters his mind beyond the hot ecstasy that envelops him. The needy, loathsome sounds that spill back out of him are foreign to his ears. When he recognises them as his own, it only serves to fuel his slow rocking of his hips against you. He’s so engrossed that it takes a moment to register that something is off. The taste is… familiar, but there’s a strong floral note to it. Almost as quickly as he realises the familiar taste, his head starts to spin in a way that has him grunt at the blissful heat shooting to his cock. It’s only then that he has a foggy grasp that he hasn’t reacted to blood like this or with these pitiful noises before now.

The muffled whimpers you catch Remmick making have your eyes struggling to stay open and your clit pulses at how hard he’s suddenly gotten. The second you hear him grunt with what sounds like confusion, panic temporarily washes over you. He unlatches himself from you with a growl that you feel in your spine. “-What is…what’s this?” You don't recognise his slurred words rasping against your ear. In your light-headed state, you partly worry you've upset him, but more than that, you're quickly enraged that he bit you without an answer from you. “You bit me…”

Remmick completely slumps against you as he tries to get his bearings again. The unfamiliar feeling courses through him at the same time scraps of memories enter his mind in patches. Any form of smile is wiped from his mouth. He's unsure why your blood isn't giving him what he's used to, why your mind hasn't joined him in his hive. He scans the blurry memories as best as he can, noting that he’s only ever felt this close to drunk when he's drained too much blood at once. Or, after draining someone particularly intoxicated. “…s'yer blood. Sum..thin’ in yer blood..” You pick up on his Southern drawl slipping into something else. It makes your head spin.

Seeing Thomas make an appearance in your recent memory has jealousy bubbling away inside of him, even more so upon learning that he’s already had the pleasure of being inside you. The only silver lining Remmick can possibly draw is that it seems Thomas has never even once tried to please you. He wants to be different; whatever was in your blood has him searing with a desperate need to show you how good you can feel. 

You try to wriggle away from Remmick as you clasp a hand over the bite mark on your shoulder. You expect it to sting, but the area is completely numb. The look in his eyes has you unsure what he’s thinking, but it pisses you off that he dares to look sympathetic towards you after just biting you.

When Remmick speaks, he sounds tipsy, and his words completely throw you off guard. “Sex ain’t s’posed to hurt, darlin’... not the way he handled ya.. I’ll treat ya so good…”

You pause your movements to gawk back at him. He must be talking about Thomas, but you don’t understand how he could know anything about your experiences with him. Apart from somehow watching you, it doesn’t make sense, even that would have had to be years before you met Remmick. The thought sends a spike of cold to the base of your spine. It isn’t easy to brush off, even though you’re prepared to call his bluff on it. 

He shoots a lazy grin at you and takes your chin between his thumb and fingers. Your eyes narrow at the recognition in his face, and the fresh blood on his lips steals your attention. It could be your dizziness, but it doesn’t scare you the way you know it should. Getting to peek at this feral side of him excites you enough that you may even like it, especially when you have the key to this piece he keeps locked.

More stolen fragments cross Remmick’s mind, and his stare turns glassy as he watches the dreams you’ve had for weeks. He lets out a breathy laugh and presses his lips under your ear, whispering to you in a low way that has your core clenching around nothing. “Look at ya… My little fawn pretendin’ she don’t like me. Meanwhile, ya been touchin’ yerself every night thinkin’ of me. My poor, sweet thing…”

Your confidence falters when he says it, and you can feel your ears burn with shame. You don’t have a clue how he knows about your nightly affairs, but you can’t bear to think of it right now. Embarrassment from getting caught out and the residual anger of being reminded that he had left for so long bubbles inside of you. There’s an attempt to protest from you, not meaning any of the words that automatically fall out. “I hate you.” Remmick chuckles under his breath, knowing it’s a nothing comment as he hovers his mouth over yours with a wolfish grin.

“Awfully wet fer someone who hates me. Ya don’t hate me, pet, just what I did.” You can smell your blood, and it still does nothing to deter you. “Won’t be leavin’ ya like that again.” As you open your mouth to try and make some other excuse, Remmick presses his lips to yours with a hunger unlike before. Something has changed since he bit you, and for some unknown reason, you don’t feel any different. 

The metallic tang makes you cringe even if you had already come to expect it. That drunken smile turns sly around your kiss, and he pauses to lick the red from your lips. The urge to flee rises as the break between you lets you pant out your own accusation. “Pervert. You've been watching me again, is that it?” You think back to how weeks ago you had realised he had watched you sleep from the living room window, unsure how else Remmick could possibly know about your dreams. You must have been talking in your sleep.

His laugh is dark as he mutters against your skin. “I wish, love.. Gods, yer blood's worth bottlin’. S'all I can think ‘bout.. ’nd this...” A possessive hand cups you between your thighs, and your breath hitches immediately as you buck into his palm in response. His eyes are starved when he pulls back to watch you, and you quickly bite the inside of your cheek to suppress any more sounds escaping. Somehow, you gather all of your willpower to shove against him. Judging by his stumble, he hadn't been expecting it. You take the chance to move away from him as he grabs for the support of the tree next to him.

As you rush to fix your skirts, the movement seems to send another wave of blood to his nose as his brows furrow up. Your heart beats furiously in your chest as he peers over his shoulder. He’s unable to look away as you cover up, unashamed and running his tongue over his fangs in a way that makes your cheeks burn again. The predatory look in his eyes unnerves you enough to force your legs to step back by themselves. Remmick seems to stagger on the spot in response. You can’t give it too much thought when the fight or flight kicks in. It seems you’re both unsure why a small portion of your blood would make him feel drunk when he was fine drinking blood the last time you met. Flight wins when the glint of metal attracts you to your gun on the ground. You don’t risk it as you bolt away from Remmick as fast as you can manage.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Remmick curses sharply under his breath as you flee from him. A cocky smile tugs at the corner of his open mouth now that he knows you’ve only kept your feelings hidden out of pure stubbornness. The trees seem to sway around you, but he keeps his eyes on you as best as he can manage. The sight of you running triggers some sort of prey drive in him to chase after you, and he isn't certain whether he needs to fuck you or drain you. Whatever is wrong with your blood has done a number on his senses, and he instantly follows after you like a nail to a magnet.

He doesn't feel like himself as he chases you and briefly considers you very lucky that he feels drugged, for lack of a better explanation. It hasn’t been uncommon for him to get a little excited when he feeds, but this… this was beyond anything he’s ever experienced before and nothing short of what he can only pinpoint as an aphrodisiac effect. It has your name carved into his brain and a cold fire surge in his veins. At the same time, he feels weaker and is struggling with control. As if making a point, his nails are starting to extend into claws, biting into the bark of passing trees without his permission. Thanks to the recent drink, his cheeks flush when he thinks of that; the sensation of losing control seems to thrill Remmick as much as it borders on horrifying him.

━━━━━━━━━━━

You ignore the burning in your lungs as much as you can while you run through the dark. You've lived in these parts for so long you could find your way blindfolded. You may as well be, for all the good the half moon does at lighting the way for you. For as startled as you were by his bite, a plan forms in your mind as your home comes into view. A grin dares to play on your lips as you close in. Fucking pervert. If watching you was what he wanted, then Remmick would regret it if he followed you. God, you hope he will.

It was obvious there isn’t an ‘if’ at this point. The cat and mouse game you'd been playing was coming to an end one way or another; the fact that he was even here made that very clear. If you were clever, you could have it end how you want; in control and on top. Metaphorically speaking, perhaps.

To your own amazement, despite hearing the fast sounds of missteps and broken twigs behind you, you manage to cross the threshold to your home. The door is slammed shut behind you as you gulp down desperate breaths of air. You rush to a small mirror on the wall and poke around in your mouth to inspect your teeth. No signs of fangs. No thirst for anything but water. You don’t feel any different.

According to Remmick, one bite would turn you, but you feel no different. So, unless he was lying, which was entirely possible, then his babbled nonsense may hold some truth to it. Something must be wrong with your blood for him to have reacted like that. You bite your lip gently in thought and retrieve a glass of water. You drink it down and rinse your hands and face, making sure to take your time even when the movement outside makes it clear that Remmick is already waiting. You put the glass down to turn to the door, with a final, steadying breath, and decide to enact your cruel idea. You can’t deny how you feel any more, and if he really has been watching you this whole time, then he deserves it.

The dark silhouette framed through the window of the front door is daunting; his looming figure is hunched, as if he's gripping the doorframe. His eyes bore into you through the glass, and it makes your heart pound against your ribcage. Prey stalked by its predator. Remmick’s nostrils flare as he slowly inhales your scent, like he’s trying to memorise it.

He lets out a muddied chuckle under his breath, and you can hear a playful tone to his voice as he calls to you. “Fuck, I can smell ya from out here, beautiful.”

You feel confident as his eyes travel down to your lower abdomen. While he was gone, you debated letting Remmick into your home if he ever came back. You think you're ready, but not without the chance to tease him relentlessly first. Until you let him in, you know that for all his honeyed words and tempting offers, you hold control over him right now. Even if he may not register that just yet. You take a breath to steel yourself as you approach the door. 

His mouth twists into a lazy grin as you approach him, and you notice that his eyes are already half-lidded with a predacious glaze to them. “Attagirl, let me in and have a taste.”

You’re close enough that you can hear his steady puffs of breath beat against the glass. He looks pleased when you open up the door, and you take great joy in seeing the hope in his face build. “What's that? Your voice is all husky, Remmick, you'll have to speak up.”

His eyes narrow slightly at your teasing voice, but he wets his lips and you catch a flash of his fangs. “I said, let me taste that pretty cunt.”

That sends a flood of heat straight to your core as your breath catches softly. Until you met Remmick, you never imagined somebody speaking to you like that. He blinks, then those crimson eyes are watching you, greedy and impatient.

While trying to pretend ignorance and staying out of arm's reach, you purse your lips and manage to find the assurance to continue. You take a half-step back for good measure and slowly reach for your bloomers. Remmick subconsciously leans forward as you drop them; his gaze falls with them until you lift your dress to expose yourself. “This what you wanted, baby?”

He nods frantically in response, and you spot the thick drool clinging to his chin. You think you hear him make a low groan at the same time you feel a trickle of blood run down your legs. Some mild disgust presses on your senses while you let your blood reach towards the floor, but testing the waters and limits with him is worth it at this moment.

Your throat turns dry as he drinks in the sight of you. “Aye, ya gonna let me have it?”

You gently worry your lip and slowly shake your head ‘no’ to taunt him. His jaw clenches in frustration as soon as he realises you're not going to let him in. His eyes grow darker, but as you move to retrieve a kitchen chair, you know that they don’t leave you once. You take your time and move the chair to where you were standing.

His breathing quickens enough for you to notice when you sit down and have the nerve to spread yourself bare in front of him. “Darlin’...”

You can't tell if he meant for the pet name to come out as a warning or a breathy plea, but either way, you don’t outwardly acknowledge it. Taking great pleasure in toying with Remmick, you look up at him as your fingers gently pull the front of your dress down to reveal your breasts.

You give a contented sigh as the cool night air hardens your nipples, followed by you slowly playing with them the way you pictured he would. You spy the outline of his erection straining against the front of his trousers, and it fills you with a filthy kind of gratification. Testing him, you lazily drag a hand from your inner thigh and through your slick up to your clit, his cock visibly starts pulsing under the fabric.

He barks out a rough, singular laugh like he's in disbelief. “Ya think yerself clever, pet? Teasin’ me like this?” Then the deep scrape of something against wood catches your attention. You aren't sure when it happened, but his fingers look more like they end in claws as you watch them dig into the wooden frame of your door.

“What's wrong, Remmick? Thought you wanted to taste me…” You close your thighs and rub them together for a moment, knowing you’re making quite the mess of your chair and legs with a mix of your slick and blood. You catch Remmick's demeanour change when you part your legs again to circle your clit with a finger. It makes him sink to the floor, claws raking deep into the frame as he falls to his knees. You move to push your finger inside with a slow, pleased moan and make a show of clenching around it, feeling the slick coat on your digit. Remmick swallows dryly and lets his jaw go slack, tongue resting on his lower teeth like he's actually panting, half-lidded and trying to lick you from where he kneels.

“What do I got to do fer ya to let me in there, beg?-” The frustration is audible from the way he groans and his hands reach down to roughly palm himself through his trousers. He fights to keep control over tonight, tense at the feeling of letting go completely. A cocky grin pulls at one side of his mouth, enough to expose his fangs to you, and excitement courses through you. “-‘Cause I can… Oh darlin’, I-I can beg real nice fer ya...”

You slip a second finger inside at the sight of him starting to touch himself and the way his eyes have clouded with lust. You aren't certain if Remmick really needs to breathe usually, but his small, desperate huffs and curses coming out in rapid succession tell you it isn’t just for show. A shudder runs through you when you spot the wet patch forming on the front of his trousers where he’s grinding up into his palm. The impatient clawing to remove his braces and undo the buttons to his trousers has your blood roaring in your ears. When his thick cock springs free to hit his stomach with a dull slap, your mouth waters at the way his rosy tip is already leaking for you. 

A soft moan falls from your lips at the sight, and you dip your fingers in and out of your core the way Remmick had, as if he weren’t sitting right there. You had assumed that they were all the same size, but he’s much different to Thomas, thicker and with the slightest curve towards his stomach that excites you as much as his large size panics you. Your mind races at what his cock would feel like on your tongue, how he might taste. He shifts his posture to lean a forearm against the side of the doorframe, his forehead resting on top.

Despite having to take a second to steady your own words, you aim to make yourself sound breathless in the hope of enticing him. “Go a-head, then..ask nicely.”

It takes every hanging shred of Remmick’s resolve to get a grip before he speaks, though he can’t seem to hide the wanton cracks in his voice or stop himself from taking his cock and fucking up into his own fist. “Oh, love.. Ta-ke a look at what’cha doin’ to me… p-please. Thought about ya for weeks, yer voice, how soft you’d feel, fuck, even just the way ya smell… ‘ve wanted ya fer so long it hurts, darlin’. I’ll make ya feel s’good.. Have ya makin’ all kinda sounds. I’m begging fer ya to let me in and fill ya up. Please.”

Your cheeks blaze and new satisfaction blooms in your chest as you give a thoughtful hum, as if you hadn’t already made your decision to let him in. You let him have your lilted answer, letting it sound drawn-out as you decide to string this out a fraction longer, see how far he can go. “..No, Remmick...”

His short snarl erupts from his chest at the same time his free hand slams against the doorframe before he slumps against it again. It serves as a sharp reminder that he isn’t human, his limits are beginning to reveal themselves, and the cracks in his demeanour are showing. His clawed fingers thread into his hair, pulling at it in frustration. It sends a delicious thrill of fear down your spine at his reaction, and you bite the corner of your lip to stifle a moan. 

“Seein’ me like this ain’t enuff? I know ya wantin’ me too, seen ya dreams…I been so patient, ..it-oh gods…it’s not fair..” His breathing is gruff, and his hips stutter as he hits his peak with a low growl. You watch him continue to thrust into his palm relentlessly, even after he spills onto your floor, his cock doesn't look like it’s softening. “F-fuck….I-I..can’t stop..”

The sight of you stretching yourself out on your fingers, coupled with the heavy scents hitting him is overwhelming. He doesn’t mean to salivate so much at it, but it’s all too much to be able to keep a grip on things. Remmick unwillingly lets his drool seep onto his flushed cock as he feels any shred of control slip away from him and instead submits to you playing with him.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Your sweet noises both fill him to the brim with jealousy and spur his movements on. He craves to be the one to make you sound like that. As if you read his mind, you let him know that you are thinking of him. “Doesn’t feel as good as you, wish you were inside me”

His breath hitches and, oh… He seemed to like that. His teeth are bared, and even in the moonlight, you can tell his pupils are blown with need. When you remove your fingers from inside to instead give attention back to your throbbing clit, it doesn’t take long for you to reach your own climax. Your back arches off the back of the chair, and you can feel yourself tremble with the way the heat licks up your spine. When your fingers slow to a halt, your mind takes a moment to adjust, watching the man on your porch arch forward as he tumbles over the edge for a second time with a torn cry.

There’s a thin sheen of sweat that clings to his skin as he mumbles a string of gruff words that are foreign to your ears. “Níl sé…c-cothrom…táim ag..teastáil uait..”

You didn't think he could be pushed to this level, but you find it devastatingly beautiful. He pauses his movements, but you can’t help but watch in awe when his length still hasn’t returned to normal. In fact, the poor thing doesn’t look to be at all sated even after that. Your heart finally relents to this lonely monster, accepting this inevitable decision between you. As you sit up in your chair, you note that he doesn’t seem to be capable of keeping eye contact right now. Instead, you delicately trace the tops of your thighs with your fingers, spreading your legs wide for him to see as much blood and slick as he can.

“Remmick …How’s about you come in here and clean up this mess like a good boy?”

=====

When he settles there with his fingers splayed over your knees, he slowly inhales like he’s trying desperately to stay calm. You lick your lips and finally answer him, reaching down to run your hand through his hair. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough already?” You gently knock your leg against his strained belly to highlight your point, and he winces at the feeling.

“Ngh… Don’t.. Hurts.” He shakes his head, breathless at the feeling. A smirk plays on your lips and you playfully tut down to him.

“Serves you right for stuffing yourself, Rems.” You see him visibly swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his brows furrow up.

“Can’t help it.” His breath catches when you gently slide your shin over the bulge, feeling him flinch before he groans under his breath. You purse your lips at the way his claws dig into your skin, and when Remmick notices, he presses messy kisses to your legs apologetically. “M’sorry, sugar. Just want a taste…”

You wet your lips, the thrill of his claws trying not to grip your legs shoots up your spine. “Maybe you can make it up to me. Then I might let you…” The red in his gaze flickers brighter for a moment as Remmick waits for you to retract the offer. When you don’t, he nods with an understanding, a small, hopeful smile pulling at his lips as he plants firmer, slower kisses to your thighs. He tries to wipe the blood from his mouth before trailing the kisses further up, then he hooks his claws underneath your knees, pulling you towards him with one smooth motion.

You let out a gasp and Remmick’s breath ghosts over you as he takes in the scent of your arousal. “You promise this time?” The temptation to lie presses on your mind, but you suppose you could finally let him have a small taste afterwards. You give him a slow nod, loving the small, hopeful groan that he gives in return. Knowing he’ll struggle without tearing your clothes, you unzip yourself for him enough to slide your jeans down your legs. He removes them and, without saying anything more, licks an unhurried stripe through your panties.

Your breath hitches at the heavy drag of him up to your clit, perfectly rough through the material so you can feel it, before he ducks down to suck your slick through the fabric. You shiver with that, fidgeting in his grasp as he moves your thighs to settle on his shoulders.

His expression turns needy when you breathe out his name, a mix of wanting to drag this out and get you to come as soon as possible so that he can finally get a taste of your blood. The thought of it, along with the sound of his name on your lips, excites him, a heat brushing through him making his length start to twitch. Your fingers get lost in Remmick’s hair when a mix of his fangs and tongue helps to peel the material to the side, sliding loud, wet kisses up to the bundle of nerves. He sounds obscene as he practically makes out with your cunt, and it coaxes small moans that fill Remmick with encouragement. 

You softly inhale at the feeling, gently rocking your hips up against Remmick’s face to get more of the feeling as he gulps down your slick. A muffled moan sounds from him below you, and one of his hands disappears from your legs. You assume it’s to palm his cock, but you don’t hear him unbuttoning his trousers. Instead, his claws slowly splay out over his stomach, groaning at the feeling of him trying to soothe the dull ache from his overfeeding. You peer down in time to catch it, and you feel the prickle of heat thumping against your clit while his tongue circles and strokes at you with a starving pace.

Your brows crease lightly, wanting to put your own hands over his stomach. Your breaths start to quicken as you can only watch his slow, needy movements, as he chooses it instead of relieving the obvious stiffness of his cock. “My greedy boy, so clever with his tongue.” Remmick moans into your folds, red eyes pleading up to you from his spot on the floor. You swear you spot him nod in agreement against you, and you catch his hips flex against nothing while it has your own hips rut against his mouth.

“The thought of my blood… got you all excited, baby?” You try to keep your voice steady, and you feel him shiver against you with the promise of a taste. There was no way you could deny him again; he’d been so patient for it and deserved something. His answer is only a resounding ‘Mmph-!’ as he suckles against you. His claws flex against you, and he eventually moves them to slice your panties apart with a single pull. You gasp at the sight, followed by him tracing one over your entrance. A cold feeling trickles down your spine, and before you can say anything, Remmick lets go long enough to whisper against you.

“Best stay still…” Your thighs tremble lightly at the warning, but you do your best to remain as still as possible as exceptionally slowly, he sinks a claw into your cunt. A whine rumbles out of your chest with the feeling as he stretches your walls out with slow thrusts against them. He grins under you, returning to lap up at you, and you’re forced to let go of him to place your hands behind you for purchase. They ball up into fists and you try your hardest to keep still as warned, the sudden intrusion of a second finger makes it harder to stop your hips from twitching. You feel your eyes go half-lidded as you feel his tongue and fingers working to drag you towards the edge of your climax.

“Rems… I’m-” It’s all the warning you can give him before you feel your abdomen tighten and then snap with a flare of heat, your cunt spasms and clenches around his claws rhythmically as you cry out. Remmick gives a soft chuckle against you when you try to push his head away. He doesn’t let you, continuing to pump his long claws and circle them against you as he drinks you down, mewling into you as he keeps his pace.

You can feel your eyes rolling as you tip your head back, your legs tremble and your stomach muscles tighten desperately as he forces you immediately into another orgasm. “T-Too much! Rem- Stop!” He begrudgingly pulls back, his red eyes looking dazed as drool spilling from his lips. For as tipsy as he looks, Remmick looks a little smug with himself as he slowly removes his claws from you to slide his tongue over them.

The sight has your stomach jerk, and you pat your thighs for him to come up. “C’mon..” He blinks up at you and nods, though it’s sluggish. Remmick slowly creeps up to sit in your lap, legs straddling either side of you and feeling his cock press against you with a small gasp from him.

“My poor baby, all full and still so needy.” Remmick can only nod dumbly to you, mouth slack as he shifts in your lap, letting his stomach push against you too. He frowns a little with the pain, and you move your hands to lightly trace your fingers over it as he places his hands over your shoulders. Your hands find the buttons to his shirt, undoing them for him and sliding the fabric to the side, revealing the white vest that’s already crept halfway up his stomach. The sight has a heat flare up inside you despite him already forcing you over the edge twice.

Your hands are light as you try to rub comforting circles into him, and you notice the way his ears have already turned red as he lets out a small groan. His cock jerks up against you with your movements, and you move a hand lower to finally undo his trousers for him. There’s a gasp from Remmick as you help remove his cock to start stroking him, and then he’s leaning down to capture your mouth with his. You can taste yourself but you couldn’t care less when he starts to whine against you, the combination of your fist pumping his cock, and splaying your other hand over the planes of his belly, drawing all sorts of needy sounds from him.

“I.. I need it, please…” You peer up to see tears starting to well up in his eyes, and there’s the vague noise of his claws scratching into the back of the sofa. Remmick’s hips move against yours, and you feel heat creeping up your own face when each of his thrusts makes his stomach push against you. “Need’ta taste you, please, darlin’.... No more teasin’...”

You bite your lip at that, finally relenting as you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. You hold out your hand, and he stares at you, unsure what you want. “Give me your claw.” His eyes look a little distant, but he’s careful as he obliges, and you reach up with both hands, using his claw to cut a thin line, but deep enough across the side of your hand. The feeling is a cold sting, and Remmick’s eyes go wide as he smells blood; a whimper escapes him when he realises that’s it. No bite. Nothing more than just a cut. “No…” His voice is just above a whisper at the revelation.

“No~?” Your voice lilts as you tease him, knowing it isn’t at all what Remmick wanted. You let go of his claws to hold out your hand for him to have a taste of you, and return one hand to pump his cock. 

His lips visibly tremble with need, and he looks hurt at the offer, but you know he can’t possibly drink much more anyway. A choked sob leaves Remmick, not having much option to argue over it as he leans down to wrap his lips around the small slice on your hand. Immediately, he starts to suckle at the small wound. Your eyes soften at him as his eyes roll into the back of his head, drool pooling in your hand and out and sliding down your arm. Small, staggered whines punch out of Remmick as his cock jumps in your hand, bumping against his full stomach. It’s not nearly enough for him as he desperately tries to suck as much as he can without daring to get his fangs involved. No matter how much they ache to sink into your palm.

You feel his cock start leaking with pre-cum, whining as he ruts pathetically into your fist. The taste of your blood is better than he could have imagined, and his chest aches with a selfish want that he can’t get a real mouthful of it. When he knows he’s exhausted all that he can get, his lips slide off your hand. His head falls onto your shoulder as he wraps his arms around you, whimpers curling in the back of his throat and louder than he means to. The needy sounds get broken by small hiccups as he feels himself getting closer to his release. “‘M close, fuck. ‘m so full, darlin’, hurts so good.”

His breathing is shallow and ragged in your ear as your free hand travels back to play with his bloated stomach. You smooth it over, pinching at him, sinking your hand in, and squeezing underneath to rip low groans from him as his hips start to lose their rhythm. “C’mon baby. You’re so pretty, all big and desperate like this.” Something in the back of his mind tells him he shouldn’t enjoy the feeling so much, but there’s no reasoning with himself. Not as you shower him in praise. “So perfect for me, Rems, gonna be a good boy and come for me?” You feel him nod in response to you before you hear the telltale sign of his claws finding the fabric of the sofa again. 

“O-oh gods… oh gods. Sugar, I’m comin’-” With his hips snapping up into you at a frantic, sloppy pace, you hear his breathing turn to grunts, then filthy, open-mouthed whimpering as his cock spills over into your hand. He shakes in your lap as you help milk him through his orgasm, not stopping until the hitching of his breath dies down to normal. You both stay there like that for a moment, Remmick dazed and muttering something into your skin, and you lovingly tracing the sides of his belly.

He swallows before he gets his mouth to work. “Thought you’d let me drink more…” He says it plainly, but you know he’s disappointed, until your hand strokes a thumb over his stomach as you speak.

“When you’re not so full, you can have more, Rems. Deal?” You say with a light laugh as you stroke your fingers through his hair, knowing it would have been a waste of your blood otherwise. His eyes flutter shut at the feeling, and he nods against you, face burning so much you can feel how warm his cheek is against your shoulder.

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Remmick doesn't feel as well-rested without his coffin and homeland dirt, but the makeshift bed he'd made down here did the trick enough. Mostly. He isn’t too picky as long as it’s out of the sunlight, but it does take him longer to sleep. So, he makes do with the stolen blankets and long grass he'd found. He lies there, resting an arm under his head as he allows his mind to wander. There haven’t been many signs of you for nights now. It was obvious you hadn’t left your home to stay elsewhere because the lights were always on at night. The fact that he had peered through your living room to see you sleeping on the sofa was, of course, neither here nor there.

He stares at the ceiling as he recalls how you looked, at ease and not scowling at him for once. That pulled a tiny smile out of him; he couldn’t help but push your buttons when you push right back. It was almost endearing to have somebody do it back, especially when you clearly feared him. It was cute how you chose to put on a brave face and pretend not to be. 'My little saviour', he jests to himself.

Until he saw how flushed you were while fixing his door, he'd only really thought about using your home for shelter and drinking your blood. However, after getting a good look at you while you argued back at him, he spent hours thinking about who you were. Namely, your scent, what you might like, and the things you dislike. Himself, obviously, notwithstanding. It stopped him from leaving any old animal on your porch as agreed on; he wanted something better, something to reward your bravery. Not that he would openly admit it to you, but he also felt the need to try to impress you. He had strayed further away from your home than he intended to, but it was worth it when he found a deer big enough that you wouldn’t need to worry about food for a while. To his surprise, his chest flutters gently at the intrusive thought that he might impress you. 

Naturally, he assumes you wouldn’t want anything to do with him, but he could still pretend you might think he did a good job. Might even praise him for doing so well. The thought starts as an innocent-enough musing, but there's an undeniable warmth that pools in his abdomen. His lips part in surprise when his cock stirs at that thought of your praise. It's been so long since he's been with anybody that the movement catches him off guard. It takes him a solid minute to remember when his last sexual anything was with someone; was it really years ago? Even then, he’s pretty certain that was only a quickie with another vampire, born out of sheer boredom without any feelings attached. Not that he had feelings for you either, he assures himself as he justifies his next actions with the promise of sleep.

'You were so good for me, Remmick.'

The soft praise he imagines makes him swallow thickly as more heat rushes south. He lets his jaw go slack and allows his palm to trace over the now prominent bulge. The thoughts return to how pretty you looked, the scent of your blood surging deliciously with embarrassment. The memory compels his hips to experimentally grind up against his hand. It was absurd to tease himself over, but he remembers that it was his own suggestive words that had done it to you. Had you been thinking about him the same way for it to get you so flustered? Realistically, he doubted it. Your clear reluctance to venture outside likely means the complete opposite. Nevertheless, Remmick palms himself a little harder at the distant idea, despite the murky question of guilt trying to press into his mind. Thankfully, all it takes is for him to unzip himself to relinquish any form of moral dilemma.

With a strained sigh, he pulls his length free to stroke himself to full hardness at a leisurely pace. His head relaxes and he lets his free hand adjust to grab his hair, pulling the tresses sharply in a way that makes his cock twitch in his hand. No. Your hand. He briefly regrets healing his shoulder wound so quickly, or he could have savoured the feeling of his fingers pressing the bruised skin right now.

He doesn't try to fight the thoughts of you as they flood in, picturing how you looked last night as you slept on the sofa. What a sweet vision you were. His eyes turn half-lidded at that, thinking how your nightdress had got caught between your legs as you slept on your side. Your squirming in your sleep made it rise high enough to see the curve of your ass. He wouldn’t even need to adjust the material to see the most intimate parts of you. His pulse sparks to life as he imagines the sweet sounds he’d pull out of you, if he had you leaking over his fingers or if he lapped up at you with his tongue. Fuck, if you’d have him, he just knows you’d take him so well. 

His memory flickers at the sound of your stomach twisting in pain. You were probably so tired in the first place because you didn’t have enough food. There was some level of empathy there to his thirst. Nothing was disturbed outside of your home when he returned last night with his fresh kill. No hung washing, no new tracks, or scents, he guesses that you hadn't been outside in days. Now you wouldn't go hungry for a while because of him; he'd done so well. His breath falters when he considers that.

‘Your’ hand works him faster, and he fights to keep the viscous drool from spilling past the fangs that poke against his lips. It makes him feel weak for never being able to control it, but it at least came in useful for something. Without thinking, he pauses his movements to turn his head and let the drool pool into his hand. The second he returns to stroke himself, any pretence of a qualm is replaced with a deeper lust as he pretends it's your slick. A small moan escapes him as he bucks up into your fist, struggling to keep still in your grip. You set the perfect rhythm for him, and it forces his breathing to turn rapid.

The new door to the cellar doesn't let any light in for him to guess the time, but he's been awake for so long now that it must at least be early morning. He curses under his breath as he realises you could catch him down here. His thoughts run away with him with a thrill; he can’t decide whether he wants you to think of him as disgusting and take pity on him, or join him and let him take charge. Your voice is so clear in his mind that he can picture it oozing with a teasing cadence. 

'Aw, poor, desperate thing… touching yourself over me as if you deserve the attention…'

He isn’t sure what else to do in response to the delightful way you poke fun at him, other than answer out loud in a strained voice,  “I… I don't. I-”

'-Tch. You're lucky I let you stay here. You think getting me food means you can fuck me, Remmick?'

He shakes his head, not wanting to disappoint you. “-just wan’ed t'please ye. I'll take anythin’ ye give.” The grip on his southern accent loosens against his will, not that he really notices how it softens.

'Hm. You did do a good job. You trying to be a good boy for me, huh? Is that it?'

Remmick wets his lips and nods in agreement quickly as your hand glides over his cock faster. Such a small reward for all of his hard efforts.

“Tried so hard, please.” His whispered plea slips out and he’s shocked by his own words. He can’t remember the last time he uttered a ‘please’ to anyone. It should bother him, but he loves the way it makes his cock jump excitedly in your hand at how your words have a hold on him. “N..Need t'have more.”

'Suppose I could take pity on you, just this once for doing so well.'

“Aye. Oh, please, darlin’, say I can. Need to hear it.” His brows furrow up as he imagines you rolling onto your back with your thighs splayed out for him. All his, even if you pity him.

Remmick adjusts himself so that he's on all fours above his ‘bed’. He's panting softly and thanks to his recent meal supplying him with a fresh blood flow, he can feel his ears burn red.

'Just this once, baby. You can be inside me. If you're good.'

“I… I will… promise…” He closes his eyes and grips his pulsing cock again, slowly this time at the head. He pretends that it's you that he sinks his hips into as he pushes into his fist. He bites his bottom lip so hard that it trembles, and for the first time in a long time, he feels a twang of submission about his actions. He can't shrug off the feeling, leaning into it and loving how the heat goes straight to his length as he thrusts into you. His head dips lower to rest his clammy forehead on the inside of his elbow, trying to hide his face despite you not being here. He can't help the way his breathing interlaces with ridiculous babble.

“…Ye feel…s’good, sweetness. Yer so kind to me… ‘m’so, lucky… Fuck-” He imagines the way you'd sound beneath him, the ways he could play with you and pull the sweetest noises out of you. He’d listen, take his time to find out what you love the most. A whimper escapes him at the precum dripping out of him and he shivers at how loud he was. “-‘m'so good fer ye. T…Tell me…I am…”

Your wanton moans build in his ear at the same time he can feel himself getting close to his climax. Despite feeling it drawing near, part of him can’t seem to cross the line without hearing whatever imaginary permission he can from you. “Please, darlin’, tell me. Want t' fill y'up, pet..” 

You keen against his ear at the idea, and he doesn’t expect the breathless words that his subconscious pulls to spur him on.

'Did such a good job, Remmick. Such a good boy for me, you trying to put a baby in me?'

The praise, coupled with your suggestion, makes him choke on a gasp and his rhythm stutters with eagerness. He doesn’t know where it came from and refuses to address it. Rather than fighting it, Remmick nods to your suggestion, all but mewling with a tipsy smile. “Gonna make ye mine, properly mine.”

His hips piston in and out of you, and a dull pleasure ripples through him as he’s finally allowed to hit his peak. His fangs desperately itch to bite something, so he settles for sinking them into his forearm with a soft crunch. Gentle growls vibrate against his skin as his hips stutter to an unhurried grind, then slowly stop. His brows are scrunched up until he's finished emptying himself onto the thin blankets below.

It takes a few moments for him to calm down and when he opens his eyes, he feels a little dazed. His fangs slowly unlatch from his forearm with a fleshy pop and he gently licks off the thin trickle of blood.

Remmick pants as he stares half-lidded at the floor. Eventually, when his mind starts to clear, he registers what just happened with a tired whisper. “...What…?”

His ears and cheeks are hot to the touch, and shame attempts to crawl into his bones as he tucks himself back into his trousers. He hasn't thought about praise, in that sense, for a long time. Though it's been years since he's fucked somebody, his default was to dish it out, not receive it like that. Let alone fantasise about it. He moves the messy blanket away and lies down on his side. Luckily for him, there isn’t much time to dwell on what brought it all on as he finally drifts off to sleep.

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The golden light of morning caresses your face through your living room window. You groggily soak in the surroundings of the downstairs room, taking a minute to remember falling asleep downstairs. The hunger doesn’t give you the chance to fully wake up before it’s already gnawing at you from the inside out. You silently cry until the wave of pain dies down again. A glug of water from the kitchen helps to wash down the last of the rations in a pitiful excuse for breakfast. No place in town would be open yet, but by the time you got dressed and started to walk over, they would be. With that in mind, you trudge upstairs to get ready.

The glimpse of your reflection in the vanity mirror steals your attention. It hasn’t even been that long since you were cooped up inside, but you already look exhausted. You bring an anxious hand to the darkening circles underneath your eyes, gently massaging some life back into the skin. It doesn’t do an awful lot, but it does feel nice. After a little pruning, you finish getting ready to leave.

When you open your front door, you find yourself face to face with a fresh carcass of a deer, unceremoniously dumped right onto your porch.

A confused string of garbled noises drops out of your mouth as you stand there, staring at it. On closer inspection, it looks like a mix of puncture wounds and one particularly grizzly-looking bite torn into its neck. The absence of blood from the animal makes your tired gaze shift over to Remmick’s procured shelter. Was he trying to make some kind of threat with this? The thought of it pulls you out of your anxiety towards him, however temporary, as you march over to him. You expect that he’s resting during the sunny hours, which only makes you furious that he could rest easily after leaving the deer there.

“Remmick!” It crosses your mind that you could just open the door, but you pound on the wood with your fist to make sure he's awake. “Remmick! You asshole, what kind of threat is this meant to be?”

The noise of him stirring inside makes your hand itch to turn the handle, though you leave it be. After a couple of minutes of the irregular banging of your hand on the door, his voice responds. You note that it doesn’t sound as distant as it had been previously when you spoke; it sounds much closer to the door, and your arm stiffens at the realisation.

“What threat? The deer?” He sounds drowsy, similar to a few nights ago when you fixed the door, although you think you hear an edge of hope to his question.

The blood rushes in your ears in response to his muddled retort; you’ll likely regret giving in to his taunting and letting him have any negative reaction out of you, but you can’t help it. “Yes, the dead thing on my porch. What’s the matter with you?” 

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Remmick takes your comment like a punch to the gut. He knew full well that his fantasy from hours ago wouldn’t happen, but hell, the reality of it is bruising. It does surprise him that you seem to have already forgotten your deal. He knows you’ve slept, but briefly wonders if you’ve eaten at all to make you so forgetful. How long could humans go without eating…? 

The silence is palpable. Then Remmick blinks to gather his bewildered thoughts, staring at the wooden barrier between you as if he sees you through it. He feels his mask go up as well as his defences, laughing out an insult to defend his own feelings, “thought you said you weren't dumb, darlin’.”

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Your mouth is agape as you imagine his stupid face grinning from ear to ear.

“You won’t come down here for food, and I can tell you ain't lookin’ for it elsewhere. So take the deer and do whatever you have to.” His voice is stern as he orders you what to do. 

Your brows pinch in confusion until you remember the deal that you’d made. The sudden recall makes you feel stupid; how could you have forgotten? Other than your lack of food clouding your mind, perhaps.

When you don’t respond to him, he adds to his statement as if to reiterate his intentions. “Your stomach wouldn't shut up. I could hear it through the window, prob'ly would have given the thing to you regardless of a deal if it meant I didn’t have to listen to you.”

His tone makes you frown, and though you shouldn’t really be thinking it, you must sound ungrateful for the food. The deer’s wounds pop up in your mind and you don’t know the way it was killed means it’s safe to consume. Your voice is a lot softer and a little sheepish at how you may have overreacted. You blame it on the lack of food again. “I don't think I can eat it anyway, you… bit it. Is that even safe?”

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His ears start to burn, hoping you don’t pick up his admission to watching you. For now, he does a good enough job of disguising his feelings to the point where you don’t question him further. He swallows at the mix of frustration that you won't just accept it, or let it go, and because he also can't deny that he wishes he could have seen your expression at the gesture. See if and when you eat it, how your pain might ease. Remmick hadn’t believed you would show a great deal of excitement towards him, but never did he consider that keeping his word would confuse you.

The forced sarcasm drips from his lips as he leans the side of his head on the door, “Oh, I am awfully sorry, darlin’. I lent my bow and arrows to someone and had to improvise. Just take it and be grateful, it won't turn you.”

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Turn you? Into something like him?

Your hand balls up into a fist, but you stop yourself from pulling the door handle open. This wasn't worth it, not when something hungrier than you could just steal his gift when you weren’t looking. Bastard, trying to make you feel grateful for something he would do. Though… You suppose you were, really…

Without responding to him, you head back and immediately take out your frustration on preparing the deer instead. It’s a miracle that you remember to wear an apron. Between skinning and gutting the thing, you curiously note how clean the job is, with barely any blood. You were expecting a total mess, but it seems that Remmick’s fangs have helped you in that regard.

Ever the sceptic, you don't stop considering what he may have done to tamper with the animal. Even when you've washed the meat an extra time, just to be certain, you're not fully convinced. Your stomach can't stop growling in a way that’s agonising when you're done, and the feeling overrides any doubts that you have. Unable to say no to the possibility of so much fresh food right here, you don’t slow your process. 

Why had he chosen a deer of all things? He could have chosen a smaller animal, a hare, even a rat, if he were feeling particularly cruel or lazy. But this, this would keep you fed for a long while. Your brows pinch in thought as you portion the meat and wash the gunk from your hands. There’s no doubt that your stomach creating noise could have bothered him, but was that really enough to have him find this for you? Probably not, the blood was drained from it, so it was very much still a selfish act. However, he still had to drag the thing here. Despite the slim possibility of wanting to reduce it going to waste, or more likely to stop somebody from finding it, there had still been some semblance of kindness.

You sigh, looking at your watery reflection in the sink as you think it over. Remmick had seemed pretty keen for you to accept it without question, so perhaps it meant nothing more than serving himself. Unfortunately, you’ll have to accept that you’ll never know. You rinse your face and let your thoughts drift to him, where he came from, who he was, how long he might insist on staying. What happened for those hunters to put him in such a bad state… Besides shooting him again and risking getting yourself killed, your only safe option in this situation really was to let him be. The whole thing had you conflicted, but selfish or not, the deer was still a gesture you could appreciate.

By the time you cook something with the meat, it’s still morning thanks to how quick you are with a knife. You’d have made quite the butcher in another life, ironic, given your vague interest in medicine. You bring your fork up to your mouth, slowly taking a bite and watching out for any odd taste. The second your tongue touches the food, your eyes shut with elation at the taste. It takes almost no time at all to finish the meal and you’re torn at the feeling. As incredible as it is to eat real food after a couple of days, the resentment stirs inside you that Remmick is the cause of it.

Negative feelings aside, you cross your arms and lean on your table until an idea forms in your mind. Technically, you wouldn’t need to make yourself look a fool by saying ‘thank you’ if you just gave something back to him. Surely the token would even the score and avoid the need for awkwardness. Except… Remmick doesn’t need to eat the same way you do. Judging by the bite marks left on the deer, he might not need to for a while anyway. You suck your teeth when it hits you, he’s still wearing those destroyed clothes. 

You hadn’t really seen Remmick standing up close, so you weren’t completely sure how his height was in relation to yours. However, that hunter from a few days ago had mentioned he was about five feet five. That worked out perfectly; you wouldn’t even need to ask him for measurements. You didn’t have any male clothes to loan him, anyway, but you did have the rest of the day left. The trip to town and back would be easy to do before it got dark.

You press your lips together in thought. It wouldn’t need to be anything fancy, but a change of clothes might at least stop him from annoying you as well as serving as a ‘thanks’. You clean up the kitchen and get a head start on your shopping before you change your mind.

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It certainly wasn’t much, just a simple blue shirt, dark trousers, simple suspenders, and a white vest to replace the one that was riddled with scorch marks and holes. But it was a lot cheaper to buy than you had anticipated on the walk over here.

Unfortunately for Remmick, the end of the month means that the only sizes available to you are a little longer than what you had wanted. Unless he wanted to wait longer for more shipments to be delivered, he would just have to take the hem up to fit better. Not that you would be running errands on his behalf if he asked, anyway.

The only thing left to consider was… Your eyes nervously find the small collection of boxer shorts on display. It feels ridiculous questioning whether to purchase them; would it look odd if you didn’t? He might think you took more than a minute to consider the item, which isn’t wrong, but you don’t need him to know it. With your awkwardness pushing you to leave quicker, you bite the bullet and just pay for the bundle on offer.

Your smile returns to you as you face the older cashier, reminding yourself to look friendly. She greets you warmly, though her amused expression doesn’t go unnoticed by you when she spies the men’s underwear. It doesn’t cross your mind that you were just overthinking it, as you feel the need to explain that your ‘cousin’ is visiting your home. She politely nods before announcing the cost, leaving you too aware that you’re making a deal over nothing. As you take your items, you try your best not to shrink into yourself by the time you leave. 

You leave the tailor a little sheepish, but happy with your purchases. The wrapped good in your cloth handbag brings a half-smile to your face; you expect Remmick will accept them without feeling the need to make a fuss. The dusty town clock chimes and you realise it’s getting on a bit, though you still have time to grab a drink. Your stomach growls quietly even though you had already eaten more than you had in days. Maybe a small bit to eat before walking all the way home wouldn’t go amiss. Heaven knows you deserve it.

With a spring in your step, you walk straight past the nearest cafe in favour of the Black Bird Cafe; the service was a bit slower there, but they serve the best food by far. It doesn't take you long to decide on the spinach and eggs with some sweet tea.

As you're enjoying your food, you people-watch through the booth window to pass the time. When you think you see a familiar member of the hunting trio, your fork pauses, partly embedded into the fluffy stack. It’s the man that you spoke to, James, you think, or Joe… is smoking outside one of the grocery stores in town. As you decide that, actually, his name probably is Joe, you watch as the other two men of the group emerge from the store. Their hats are being worn on their back, hanging from strings, and it allows you to get a proper look at them this time. You passively realise that Joe looks different to the others in a way that makes you wonder if he’s actually white like you first thought. You didn’t get a good look at the other two before, mostly because of their hats, and because it was Joe you focused on, but you can see that they’re Native American.

For whatever reason, one of the two rips the roll-up out of Joe’s hand and waves it in his face before putting it out on the floor. Your brows raise at that, and you momentarily turn your head away to pretend you aren’t watching. You make a mental note that instead of trying to look tough, you should probably make more of an effort to commit someone’s face to memory in future. Particularly when they show up on your property. While you return to watching through the window, the third man, decidedly younger-looking than the other, looks like he's trying not to laugh at Joe. As you think that, Joe’s eyes lock onto yours while he gets chastised. Dread runs through you, and you don't know if waving or ignoring him would be worse. You smile as a reflex and look back at your food.

Why were they still here? You thought they'd have ridden off into the sunset by now. What's more peculiar is why you now feel like hiding. Didn't you want to hand Remmick over to them just days ago? Here they were, he'd be taken care of by dinner time if you wanted. And yet… Your mouth feels dry; why did you buy these clothes again? Maybe buying them was a mistake. But Remmick hadn’t bothered you since making your deal. You were uneasy, sure, but he was keeping to himself, and he had stuck to his word even if you’d forgotten about it through exhaustion.

The chime of the bell on the cafe door chimes before you get to think about him anymore, and the grip on your fork tightens. You don’t need to look up to put together who just walked in; the smell of fresh tobacco on Joe is noticeable from your booth.

“Afternoon, miss.” The thick accent of the hunter greets you at your table, making your shoulders sag for a fraction. You look up to the familiar face as he removes his hat. “Hope you don’t mind my boldness, but you look like you could use some company.”

The shy feeling allows for a small smile on your lips. You really didn’t fancy company from him or the moral unrest that you could tell would come of it. Your father had brought you up with the knowledge that you don’t owe a stranger anything, particularly men. But that doesn’t mean you need to be rude without cause, and this man had been warm to you when you had met anyway.

“I hope you don’t think of me as charity, I’m content in my own company,” you replied with a playful smile, “but, I’m always happy for some chitchat.” He looks a tad nervous at your half-lie until taking it to mean you’re being light-hearted. With a nod, he slides into the seat opposite you at your booth. As he does so and lights up another cigarette, you look to him innocently. “Joe, wasn’t it? I assume you haven’t caught your man yet if you three are still in town?”

He raises his brows and nods his head to the side, inhaling like he’s exacerbated. “You’d me right, miss. We thought we spotted traces of him, heard a couple of things too, but no such luck.” He waves over a waitress to pay for a coffee. “Though, we think we know why that’d be.”

You take a sip from your tea. “Oh? I wouldn’t have thought he’d stay in the same place if he’s on the run.”

“Precisely. Reckon some fool’s been helpin' him.” He stares you dead in the eyes and it makes your stomach tighten with accountability.

You try to play it off, redirecting the conversation away from blame, “So why not put up wanted posters?”

He shrugs before responding with some genuine concern, “Don’t wanna scare folks 'round here. Not when they already got the fear of God in ‘em.”

“You're not a man of God?” You didn’t really care either way, not how some people in the town might.

Joe pauses to think about it with a slow drag of his cigarette, tapping the ash into the tray he slides towards him. “I am. I just seen things that scare me more.”

“Like what that man did…?” You try to probe him on it again, but aren’t entirely sure you want the answer.

He stares at you for long enough for the waitress to bring him his coffee. He thanks her and takes a sip from it while looking back at you. He licks his lips as he sets it down. “Exactly like that man.” There isn’t any further elaboration and you can tell he’s not about to lecture you on vampires.

His fingers tap the table like he’s thinking about his words carefully. “You happen to see anythin' that looks suspicious, you can always go to the saloon and ask for Mr. Shaw. He’ll get a message to me, no trouble.” 

The conflicted feeling in your gut persists as you nod in agreement, but it isn’t clear to you what the right thing to do is. You told Remmick that you wanted him gone, and you do. The lack of food recently may be to blame, but you don’t tell the hunter about Remmick staying in your root cellar. 

He seems to take your silence as a sign that you’re worried, and he gives a friendly smile to you alongside a hushed voice. “Don’t you worry, miss. We’ll find him. When we do, he’ll be destroyed.” 

The word ‘destroyed’ shifts the tone in the booth as you cringe; it reminds you that you already shot Remmick before you knew what he was. Your brows furrow at him and a tense laugh slides out of your chest in an attempt to dismiss the feeling. “Destroy? You say it like he’s a dog…” You fold your arms in front of you, rubbing your upper arms as you do so.

There’s another puff of his cigarette before his head tips a fraction in response to your comment. “Naturally. Apologies, I shouldn’t be talkin' like that in front of you…” His attention flickers to your new purchases beside you, motioning with his cigarette. “You travelled a while to get here, didn’t you? I hope you didn’t make any... foolish purchases.”

A cold feeling runs over the back of your knees at his observation and choice of words. You feign a lack of awareness with a smile while trying to decipher his words. It was unclear if he meant it as an insinuation or just an insult. Instead of denying it, you play dumb, seeing as he seems the kind to feed on that anyway.

“Oh, more than likely! Pa tore his clothes trying to fix the roof and sent me for some new ones. I told him I could sew them, but he wasn’t having it…” You add an eyeroll to your lie and Joe watches you. It isn’t clear if he bought it, but he gives a muffled laugh anyway.

You don’t know how you manage to keep your friendly exterior composed as you guide things elsewhere. “I like your brooch.”

“Ah, this?” He leans to the side to show it off more. It looks embossed with the image of what looks like a handprint inside the sun. “Makes sense, a pretty girl havin’ an eye for somethin’ pretty-lookin'.”

Your cheeks warm and you feel a little reserved about hearing the cliché. You give a faint giggle to help brush off the comment.

The bell of the door chimes again when one of the two men walks into the cafe. He sees you both and makes a beeline for the table. Joe sighs into his drink as the other man stops at the end of the table. You softly inhale at the scars that start at his ear, extending over one milky eye until they stop above the brow. His stern face looks to be much older than Joe's, and he has streaks of grey in his long, otherwise dark hair.

He speaks with a low voice in a language that sounds new to your ears; his hands settle on the hips of his black trousers. You don’t need to understand the words to hear the sarcasm in them. “Chim ʋlhtaha ho̱?”

Joe slowly exhales and avoids eye contact with the man. To which he leans on the table with his hands, getting lower towards Joe’s face. “Sʋ ha̱klo ho̱?” His gravely voice holds a deal of warning and it makes Joe’s throat bob.

“Chi ha̱klo li.” Joe responds while he sets his mug by the window. A small exhale sounds and he places his hands on the table to push himself up. Joe’s head gestures to his associate, a wry smile on his lips. “This here delight, here is Tashka.”

Your gaze follows to look at Tashka, trying not to gawk at his scarred eye. A polite, but small voice leaves you, “Lovely to meet you, Tashka.”

Tashka’s expression softens as he returns your gesture to you, making it clear that his quarrel isn’t with you. “Likewise, miss…?”

Joe gives your name to him, not taking his eyes off of you. The way he inspects you makes you feel like you’re under some kind of microscope, and you realise he may not have just been flirting with you. 

“Ah. Apologies, but-” Tashka reaches to pluck the cigarette from Joe’s lips, once again, and makes a show of dropping it into his coffee. A muscle in his jaw twitches and you assume it’s a continuation of their argument from outside “-my companion and I are leaving now.” Those words are final. Joe rolls his eyes as Tashka steps back to let the other leave the table.

“Take care, miss.” Tashka says as he turns and heads back to the door. “Miti.” 

Joe gets to the end of the table and stops as he contemplates something. “Here.” He reaches to his wrist, unclipping what looks to be one of a few bracelets with a thick, silver plate in the centre. He holds it out and you simply blink before shaking your head.

“No, I can’t take that. It’s yours.” You put your hand up, trying to refuse the trinket.

“You can, it’s a good luck charm. Your family live far out of town, so take whatcha can.” He doesn’t move until you reluctantly take it from him with a stiff thank you. Though when you take the bracelet, he doesn’t let go.

Joe’s voice is quieter, more serious than earlier, and it suddenly feels as though he’s the only thing making noise in the cafe. “I don’t mean it condescendin'ly, but you look a little more worn out than last time we met. I do hope nothin's troublin' you.” Joe lets go of the charm when you decline the statement, and his expression melts into the previous benevolence. With a tip of his hat and a full smile, he follows Tashka out of the cafe.

You stare at the bracelet after he leaves, rubbing a thumb along the soft edge of the metal to soothe your nerves. There doesn’t look to be any decoration to it other than the hammered surface to give it shape. After Joe waves goodbye to you through the window and you give a weak wave back, you eat the rest of your cold meal as you inspect the bracelet.

=====

a/n:

Choctaw translations with the help of www.choctawnation.comChim

ʋlhtaha ho̱? Are you ready?

Sʋ ha̱klo ho̱? - Do you hear me?

Chi ha̱klo li - I hear you