#ruffilo request

Seated in the farthest, darkest corner of the quaint lounge, Nicholas mindlessly swirled his drink. A tall, curly haired man adorned in a red and black floral suit stood center stage. His voice, smooth and robust, carried easily on the cigarette and cigar smoke, blending seamlessly with the melody of the piano. Patrons—even a few waitstaff—were enamored. Nicholas supposed to a degree he was as well.

The man seemed to thrive off the attention, heavily tattooed hands caressing the mic stand, eyes closed and allowing the music to flow through him. Stage light caught the necklace he wore, the glittering sparkle of diamond and pearl almost blinding but wholly mesmerizing.

Squinting, Nicholas sipped his drink. While enchanting, something was off about about him, something he couldn't place or explain. It was more a feeling than anything—a weird prickling at the base of his skull and what he could only describe as an unsettling fascination. He couldn't even call it attraction—though he was quite attractive. Even more tattoos sprawled from under the collar of his shirt and lined his jaw. Perfect blonde ringlets almost moved of their own volition. Yes, the man was quite attractive, but even still, in a way Nicholas failed to pinpoint.

He opened his eyes, a sorrowful expression etched in his features, matching the tone of his song. The man slowly scanned the crowd, ensuring each person received a personal stare down. When his eyes met Nicholas', it was like a magnet, an instant connection, instant pull. He kept his gaze trained on him, distant melancholic brown shifting into something more determined, purposeful, almost hypnotic. Nicholas squinted more, seafoam mere slivers as he watched his serenade.

No longer did it feel meant for the lounge patrons. It felt as if he were singing directly to Nicholas, for Nicholas. Held captive by his stare.

And then, just as quickly as it began, it was over. Whistling and polite yet loud clapping filled the space. A wide smile appeared on the man's face, bowing with an arm exaggeratedly extended, pride and elation radiating from him in waves. That peculiar prickling in his skull eased, but there was still a tug when their eyes met again, even though it was brief. He disappeared behind the deep sapphire curtain—and subsequently, the prickling ceased entirely. Nicholas felt… normal.

The hushed hustle and bustle of the lounge resumed. Patrons and employees flittered about, some going out of their way to offer polite smiles, but most entirely ignoring him. Nicholas, however, kept a sharp eye on every passerby, every movement, searching for a weak spot. It'd been too long since he last fed, and he really needed a meal.

His hunting wass cut short by a familiar prickling and intrusion. How Nicholas managed to not catch the man's presence until now was beyond him. He was usually quick and keen to notice even the most minor shift in detail.

"Your staring isn't all that subtle, you know." The man spoke lightly, a little too friendly. "You don't get anyone that way."

He sat directly beside him, brightly colored drink garnished with two cherries in hand; an all too casual air surrounded him. Attractive in every sense of the word, but also in a way that left Nicholas a little unsettled. His grin was unassuming, with teeth a touch too sharp to be human. Perfect, immaculate ringlets that appeared saturated with water moved effortlessly with him as he adjusted in his seat.

The diamond and pearls didn't glitter like under the stage light, but the subtle shimmering still drew Nicholas' eyes to the man's partially exposed, equally heavily tattooed neck—a soft yet vivid hibiscus, a face or perhaps mask, and a frog. Ink continued along his jaw, black swirls that spread to the side of his head, and even more ink disappeared under the buttoned portions of his shirt.

"Vampires," Nicholas narrowed his eyes, "tend to be a little more…"

The man trailed off and plucked a cherry from his drink. He held it in the air, letting it dangle over his drink while droplets of bright red syrup dripped. His tongue curled around the fruit, drawing attention to his mouth and his definitely too sharp to be human teeth. Red collected on his lips as he bit, dribbling down the center and settling in the divot below his lip.

Nicholas zeroed in on the color, pupils dilating so intensely he swore he felt it—and it must have been obvious, because the man flashed a sharp, toothy grin.

"Oh, poor thing. You must be starving." He swiped his thumb across his chin. "Or, you're just very young. Naïve. Inexperienced."

"I don't like assumptions." Nicholas curtly replied.

Amused, the man scoffed as he plucked the second cherry from his drink and popped it inside his mouth, stem included. Nicholas narrowed his gaze, curiously watching him. His jaw moved too much and peculiarly to just be chewing. He could only imagine the difficultly of getting through the stem, and he also didn't understand the appeal of wanting to eat it.

Unassuming brown locked with his cold steel. Something began festering somewhere inside him, slowly spreading like roots, tangling easily with his nerves. It squeezed and squeezed and squeezed, heavy and tight like a vice. Static coursed through him; dull ringing penetrated his ears, reverberating profoundly. Nicholas could feel the grating buzz in his teeth, irritating the back of his throat, itching to the point of insanity. He wanted to stick his fingers in every orifice of his face and claw and scratch until he felt relief—but it seemed impossible to tear his gaze away from the man.

At the same time a wry smile crept onto the man's face, haze infiltrated Nicholas' mind, choking and suffocating all his thoughts until all that resided was him.

Ever so, he cocked his head to the side. The tiniest sliver of the cherry stem poked between his lips. Nicholas saw the movement more than he heard his voice.

"Care to tell me your name?"

"Nicholas." His reply was near instantaneous.

"Nicholas." The man repeated.

He slid the cherry stem out of his mouth—perfectly tied into a knot—and pointed it at him. "Well, Nicholas, I didn't expect you to be so… willing."

Blankly, Nicholas blinked, wholly unaware of what he meant. The smile the man gave was unsettling, like he knew an obvious secret and was waiting for Nicholas to catch on.

"How about," he stood, extending a hand out to him, "you show me how willing you can be, hm?"

Without hesitation, Nicholas grabbed it. The man's smile grew into a grin, flashing sharp teeth. He felt disconnected from his body, yet somehow his limbs were both weightless and made of lead. Not dizzy, maybe a little disoriented. His surroundings were clear, but it mattered so little; all his focus, all his attention was on the man dragging him along. He acknowledged each and every pleasantry shot his way, either with a nod, bright smile, or wave. No one seemed to notice Nicholas stumbling behind—and if they did, they certainly didn't care.

One person went out of their way to totally disrupt him, stepping right in their path. Nicholas caught a brief glance of a scathing glare before it shifted into something a little more friendly. His smile was forced as he spoke, mindlessly nodding along and halfheartedly pretending to care about the drivel spilling from their mouth.

The static tingle beneath Nicholas' skin intensified, heating his blood and making him sweat. Subconsciously, he squeezed the man's hand in an attempt to ground himself. He seemed to understand because he interrupted them, excusing himself and Nicholas and hastily hurried to… Where were they going? Why was he following this man again? …Who even is this?

He stopped abruptly, trying to rack his brain for answers he wasn't given. The man looked over his shoulder, head cocked to the side, brown eyes curious. Despite knowing literally nothing about him, a frenzied flutter blossomed in Nicholas' chest, heart racing uncontrollably. He squeezed his hand harder. The man raised his brow.

"I don't… know your name?" Nicholas furrowed his brow.

A much smaller, softer smile—perhaps almost kind—spread on the man's face. He exhaled, just as soft but with a hint of amusement. Turning to face him, he unlaced their loosely entwined fingers, but kept a gentle grasp on Nicholas' hand as he brought it to his lips.

His gaze was intense, hot and heavy as his breath as he spoke.

"I'm going to keep your mouth much too busy for you to be calling out my name." He paused for a moment, squinting at him as if he were studying Nicholas. "Although… Maybe I might enjoy hearing beg for me."

But Nicholas didn't learn his name—not when they disappeared into a dressing room, not when he was grabbed by his throat and pulled into a slow kiss that left him dazed and weak-kneed. He could only gasp and swear as too many sharp teeth scraped along his neck, daring to puncture the sensitive flesh. Nicholas nearly let himself go completely limp, subconsciously surrendering to the arms keeping him upright.

Not even when the man had Nicholas down on his knees, struggling to swallow down his cock—yet another part of him that wasn't quite human: it glistened, slick with a natural sticky lubricant, where there should've been a vein instead were small, bumpy ridges that Nicholas discovered both of them enjoyed having his tongue massage, and a thick shaft with subtle, smooth swellings on either side—did he share his name.

The hand tangled in his raven locks kept him in place so he could bruise the back of his throat. Drool and slick leaked from his mouth, making a mess of his chin and the man's lap. His cock pulsed and throbbed, growing warmer and warmer by the second. Nicholas wondered if he was getting close.

He moaned over and over, silently encouraging him to fill his mouth—except the man abruptly pulled him off and shoved his face to his thigh. Briefly, he caught a glimpse of his cock: engorged, swollen, and flushed from base to leaking tip.

"Bite." The man commanded, wrapping a tattooed hand around himself and squeezing enough to elicit a deep groan.

Nicholas turned just enough to look up at him, catching sight of eyes much darker then before. The whites had turned black, his pupil's and iris' also blending seamlessly. If he wasn't wary of his humanness before, Nicholas was now certain he was not. Light caught the newfound abysses inhabiting his skull, reflecting silver then revealing a quick flicker of blue that Nicholas thinks could have been a trick.

"Bite, Nicholas." He said again, tone sharp like his teeth.

A deep growl rumbled in his chest, accompanied by a whole body tremble as Nicholas sank his fangs into the sensitive and tender flesh of his inner thigh. Blood—thinner than it should have been—flooded his mouth, seeped between his teeth, coated every inch of his tongue; he couldn't drink fast enough. What he failed to swallow dribbled from the corners of his mouth and down his chin until he felt wet trails disappearing under and into his shirt collar.

He slurped, slurped, slurped, slurped; it just kept coming, with no end in sight. Resigned to feast forever, Nicholas closed his eyes and allowed himself a blissful, indulgent moment. However, it was short lived. A fist twisted in his hair and he was being pulled off and hauled up. Clumsily, he found himself perched in the man's lap, those same dark, dark eyes burning holes through him.

"Do you still want to know my name?" He asked.

It seemed silly and unimportant at this point, but Nicholas did still want to know.

"Yes." Blood trickled out of his mouth.

And once more, instead of being told, Nicholas was met with another kiss, except this one was frantic, bruising and fierce. He latched onto the man's suit jacket with a white knuckled grip. The man kept his hand tangled in Nicholas' hair while he used the other to pry one of his off his jacket, guiding it down to his incredibly slick, swollen, and throbbing cock. He closed his hand around Nicholas' and set a fast pace, groaning unashamed into his mouth.

Nicholas swore razor sharp teeth nicked his lip, the sting implied more than just a nibble, but he couldn't be sure if the blood was "his" or what he just consumed.

The man bucked, then spilled, sticky, thick ropes of what Nicholas assumed semen coating their hands. He wanted to glance and see if the color was the same as his, but he didn't want to break the kiss quite yet.

But he had different plans. He tugged Nicholas' hair until he was able to pull him away enough to see red staining his mouth. His other hand came in view, and without being asked or prompted, Nicholas parted his lips, allowing him to slip semen covered fingers between them.

The grin he gave was wholly unsettling, mouth full of red, sharp teeth, and much to wide for his face. Paired with his pitch black stare, Nicholas felt like prey in the grasp of a Great White Shark.

"My name is Will."

Will Masterlist

Ruffilo Masterlist

Tag list: @jestersnotebook @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke @sitkowski @ferduttini @lacy1986 @ladyveronikawrites @kavalyera

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Comical: the only word Nicholas could use to describe Folio’s posturing. Nothing about his beast was intimidating, not even as he watched him rip apart members of an opposing coven—or those of his pack. Nicholas laughed, full bellied and cruel at Folio baring his teeth, snarled with crimson and viscera.

“Aren’t you just ferocious?” Nicholas mocked.

When Noah enters the house, he’s greeted by a dull drone of a singular piano note being played over and over and over and over again. He could feel it in his bones, the heaviness seeping from the living room, chest twisting with each press of the key. He called for Nick, but met with no response. Peaking inside the living space, he saw Nicholas standing at the piano, shoulders hunched, head hung low and his hair a cascading veil around him. He was still wearing one of Jolly’s robes from this morning.

“Nick?” Noah called again, this time softer, so as not to startle him. Again, he was ignored.

It seemed disingenuous to ask if he was okay because it was clear as day he wasn’t.

“It’s okay to let me go.” He said flatly.

“What?”

Nicholas stopped. Slowly, his head lifted and turned ever so, just enough for Noah to see the absolute heartache on his face and swollen, bloodshot eyes. Noah felt his heart shatter in two. He took a step towards him, only for Nick to take one back.

“You need to let me go.”

Crimson from an open cut across Nicholas' knuckles dripped onto the wooden floor. The color was… off, even for him. It was far darker than it should be, that much Noah knew.

"What happened to your hand, Nick?" He asked cautiously.

The house was quiet and stagnate enough that Noah swore he could hear the rattling of Nicholas' bones, as well as see it. Nicholas followed his gaze, lifting his bloodied hand and staring at it intently. Confusion furrowed his brow as he looked to Noah.

"I'm bleeding. Why am I bleeding?" His voice was laced with mild panic. "Noah, why am I bleeding?"

Noah took another step toward him; this time Nicholas stayed put, but he still flinched, a small, barely there twitch, but enough for him to notice.

"Nick," Noah held out a hand, "what happened? Are you okay?"

The blank stare told him as much as Nicholas had—nothing.

"I-I don't know…" Tears shimmered along his lashes. "I… cleaned up after you left this morning, then I… wanted to play Jolly a song so I came in here."

Noah looked to the piano where Jolly's urn resided, only it was missing.

"Then I realized I never showed him the renovations so I grabbed him and showing him around and… and I told him about you and then I felt th-th-this guilt and Jolly appeared and—" Nicholas inhaled a shaky breath. "Everything came rushing back and I was back there, cradling his dead body, apologizing over and over and over again."

Tears fell freely from somber seafoam, the whites of his eyes almost the same shade of red as the silk robe he wore. Noah stood, too stunned to speak.

"I kept yelling for you." His voice cracked. "And you weren't here, and I knew you weren't, I knew that. I watched you leave. I-I made you breakfast. Y-you kissed me before you left. You were here, but you weren't."

"Nick…" Noah didn't know what to say.

“It's not your fault, I know." Nicholas was quick to reassure him. "It just sent me down a spiral of what ifs. What if you get sick of me? What if you decide I’m too much to handle after all? What if the same thing happens? What if it's me? What if you—“

Nicholas couldn’t get the words out. A painful lump formed in his throat and a sob tore through him, sending him crumpling to the rug.

Noah was quick to rush to his side and engulf him. Nicholas thrashed, desperately trying to push him further away. Noah only held him closer until he eventually curled into him, his despondent sobs shaking them both. Tears stung his own eyes and trickled down his cheeks as he blinked them away. Nicholas’ fingers twisted in his shirt, clutching to the fabric like a lifeline and staining it with blood. He screamed, raw and visceral, shredding his throat, the sound only partially muffled against Noah’s chest.

He felt utterly and completely helpless. Nicholas had broken down on him before—more times than he could count and more than Nicholas would ever admit, but nothing quite like this. He wanted to do more than just hold him; he wanted to make the hurt go away, reach inside his chest and pull at the deeply rooted grief in his heart until it gave—but he couldn’t.

When his sobs finally quieted to sniffling, Noah gently pried his face from his chest. He smoothed a hand over his hair, pressing his lips into a sad yet sympathetic line as despondent seafoam flicked between black brown. Like fragile porcelain, Noah cradled Nicholas' face between his hands.

"I am not going anywhere.” Noah brushed his thumb across his cheek, wiping away lingering tears. “I will be here for as long as you want, Nick.”

"You don't know that." Nicholas choked out.

"You're right, but you also don't know this will end in disaster either." Noah fixed him with a firm yet gentle stare. "I knew the risks when you told me everything, and I still said yes. I am happy to pick up pieces of you, and I cherish every one of them helping you put them back together."

“That’s not fair to you.”

Noah pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You don’t get to decide that.”

Nicholas blinked, eyes still shimmering with tears and underlying uncertainty.

"You make it so difficult not to fall in love with you."

Noah chuckled. "Are you telling me you love me?"

"I.. might be."

The confession caught him off guard, but he managed to mask his surprise, at least he hoped so. On one hand, it was nice to hear Nicholas felt the same, but on the other, Noah worried if he just said it without realizing and was trying to save face—and he desperately, selfishly hoped he did.

"When was the last time you fed?" Noah asked.

Nicholas furrowed his brows.

"I ask because the blood coming from your hand looks old."

He looked down at the hand still twisted in Noah's shirt. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but when he untangled his fingers, the cut split, prompting more crimson to the surface.

"Let's get this cleaned up, then I'll give you a drink, okay?" Noah helped Nicholas to his feet.

"I don't have it in me right now, Noah."

"Nick—"

"No, I mean… I don't want a drink from you. I'd rather have a blood bag."

Noah nodded. "Sure. Just one?"

Nicholas let Noah bandage his hand without complaint, his gazing burning through him the entire time. Noah tried his best to ignore it, but it was heavy. He couldn't make out the emotion plaguing them. At the very least, it didn't seem as sorrowful or shaken. Maybe it was contemplative.

When he finished, Noah locked eyes with him. Nicholas' expression softened as Noah kissed the bandage.

"For extra healing." He said with a faint smile.

"Thank you." Nicholas whispered with a small smile of his own.

Gently, Noah hooked a finger under his chin.

"You're sure you don't want a drink from me?" Noah inquired, eyes flicking between his.

Nicholas nodded. "I'm too tired."

Noah's smile turned sympathetic; he softly pecked his lips.

"Blood bag and a nap then."

He helped Nicholas off the counter and guided him out of the bathroom, hand loosely in hand. Noah steered them in the direction of Nicholas' room, but he stopped just shy of the door. Before he could ask, Nicholas sheepishly asked if he could sleep in his room instead. Noah thought it silly to ask—this was Nicholas' house and his room was merely the guest room—but he agreed; of course he did.

Noah turned them in the opposite direction, past the bathroom, past the study to the end of the hall and opened the door. His bed was still neatly made, the curtains drawn just enough to let in a little light. He let go of Nicholas' hand to close them while he climbed into the bed.

The last thing Noah wanted to do was leave him alone, but he needed to grab blood and clean up the small puddles by the piano. Plus, he needed to find Jolly, more than he needed to clean blood.

With a chaste kiss to the cheek, Noah promised he'd be quick. He shut the door behind him then debated where to start first. His eyes wandered to the closed study door. It seemed good a place as any.

Quietly, he opened the door and stepped inside. The space was tidy, not a pen or book out of place. Everything was where it should be; no clutter on the desk, and no sign of Jolly. Noah frowned then exited.

The door to Nicholas' bedroom was slightly ajar. Noah grimaced at the loud squeak it gave as he slipped inside. The space was less tidy than the office. His bed was unmade, dresser drawers half opened with clothes threatening to spill over the edges. The closet doors were wide open and various robes that belonged to Jolly laid in heaps on the ground, along with Jolly.

His urn rested on its side, thankfully unopened. However, Noah's sigh of relief was short lived.

The mirror was broken.

“Oh… Nick…” Noah whispered, feeling his heart shatter.

An impact mark the size of a fist spider webbed out, the crack just below where his heart would be—and exactly where he imagined Nicholas'. Shards littered the floor and clung to the frame. His reflection was distorted, limbs disconnected from his body and warped.

Noah crouched down and set Jolly upright, giving the urn a pressed, thin smile.

"I wish I knew what to say." Noah said. "I hope he didn't throw you at the mirror too."

He looked over the urn; save for a few scratches, it was mostly unscathed. Noah stood, Jolly in hand and turned his attention back to the mirror.

"Nick's told me a lot about you, separately and together. He still wears the engagement necklace." He glanced down at the urn. "He asked me when we started dating if it bothered me, and I told him no."

Noah paused as if he were waiting for a reply. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, but he paid it no mind.

"He's… He still struggles. He still misses and loves you so much. I'm sure you know that though."

Silence.

"I wish I could make it easier for him, you know? I don't want to erase what you had together, that's the last thing I want. I just… I don't want him to feel guilty for moving on, or trying to. Nick deserves to be happy, to love, and to be loved."

Noah chuckled lightly.

"Actually, he more or less told me he loved me today. I didn't say it back. I should have. It just caught me by surprise, and if I'm honest, I'm not sure if he knows he said it."

He frowned.

"Nick had a… big breakdown and there was… a lot of disconnect and emotion flying around. I hope he meant it, because I love him too. So much. More than I know how to say or show. I guess I should start by saying it back first, huh?"

Noah looked at the urn, at Jolly. He tried to visualize him, but he'd only ever seen pictures and paintings. He didn't know how tall he was, how thick his accent was. He wondered if they'd be friends in a different time, if he and Nicholas would still meet. Noah's certain they wouldn't be together if Jolly were still alive.

"I'll take good care of him, Jolly. I promise. I know I'll never come close to you, but I just want to give Nicholas the love we both know he deserves."

Noah took much longer the anticipated taking it upon himself to tidy Nick's room before heading back down stairs. He returned Jolly to his rightful place in the piano, that same chilling feeling creeping over him as he walked to the kitchen. He swore he saw someone in his periphery, but when he turned to look, no one was there.

When he went back to the guest room, Nicholas was dozing—not quite asleep, but in between. He perked up, greeting Noah with a sleepy smile that warmed his chest. Noah crawled in beside him while he devoured the blood bag.

Nicholas wastes no time wrapping his limbs entirely around Noah, leeching his body heat all for himself. Silence filled the minuscule space between them as unconsciousness tugged at Noah's eyes.

"You didn't say it back." Nicholas mumbled.

"Hm?"

He squeezed Noah tighter.

"Earlier. I told you I love you, and you didn't say it back."

Oh.

There was a beat of silence. Noah untangled Nicholas' limbs from his and turned to face him. Exhaustion plagued his features—sunken eyes lacking their sparkle, skin dull and paler than usual, sadness and grief etched so deeply in his frown, in every little wrinkle and line. Noah grasped Nicholas' injured hand, placing a feather light kiss to the palm before nestling, cradling it against his chest.

"I wasn't sure if you knew what you said, or if you… meant it like that." The confession came as a whisper, quieter and more vulnerable than Noah intended.

"Why wouldn't I mean it?"

Under different circumstances, Noah would find his pout adorable. He almost felt guilty for doubting his sincerity.

"Well—"

His words were cut off by Nicholas pressing a clumsy kiss to his lips. Noah followed his lead, letting him take what he wanted, be greedy as humanly possible, until they were both breathless and Noah was positive he could feel Nicholas' heart beating again.

Noah went easily when Nicholas tugged him, perching himself in his lap, caging his hips between his knees—but when his hands slipped under his shirt, he stopped.

"Noah…" he whined. Noah chuckled softly, amused

"I know, Nick, I know." He brushed their noses together. "You don't need to prove it. I believe you."

"But—"

Noah silenced him with a kiss.

"I love you too."

"You do?"

"I do."

Tag list: @jestersnotebook @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke @sitkowski @ferduttini @lacy1986 @ladyveronikawrites @kavalyera

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t Jolly. Cold blooded, cruel. Evil. Just plain evil. Torturing his meals just because he can. Laughing in their faces as they beg for mercy, only to snap their neck in front of their loved one. Try as Nicholas might, he couldn’t reach Jolly. Nothing appealed to his dormant humanity. Nicholas held every key, every combination to every lock Jolly possessed—he should have the answer to this one, but evidently not.

It was horrifying to witness, but impossible to look away from—like a fiery, fifteen car pileup on the world's busiest highway during a disastrous storm. Nicholas’ stomach turned in disgust while Jolly wore the brightest and biggest smile he’s ever seen.

His heart broke with every ruthless and meaningless kill and Jolly’s seemed to grow three times its size each time.

On his hands and knees, Nicholas pled, desperately clutching the fabric of Jolly’s pants to keep him where he stood.

“Please, I’m begging you. Stop this.” His throat ached and his eyes burned with tears. “This isn’t you, Joakim. This is not who I fell in love with. This isn’t who I gave my heart to.”

Before he could blink, Nicholas found himself on his back, the air sufficiently knocked out of him. Jolly had him pinned, his eyes pitch black and soulless and fangs bared.

“I am who I have always been.” He growled. “I treat the world with the same inhumane cruelty it has me. I bow to no one. I answer to no one.”

Nicholas screwed his eyes shut, unable and unwilling to continue looking at this… this monster.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you, pet.”

Reluctantly, Nicholas obeyed and was still met with the same unkind glare.

“It would be wise to remember your fucking place. I gave you a second life. You are mine. I am not yours. You are a servant, a willful follower.”

“That… that’s all I am to you?” Nicholas croaked. “I mean nothing?”

Jolly’s lips curled into a wicked grin.

“You are but a plaything, a pet—a rather cute yet yappy pet who needs to learn to speak when spoken to.”

The fabricated feel of fangs sinking into his neck woke Nicholas with a start. He shot upright, gasping for breath and frantically felt for teeth marks. His skin was blemish free. And like every other moment of distress, he instinctively reached for the crystal hanging around his neck.

Nicholas refused to close his eyes; he feared flashbacks of that nightmare. Instead, he stared blankly into the dark of his room. Though he grew up between these four walls, it’s never felt so unfamiliar and foreign.

“Nicky?” A soft knock accompanied a female voice. “Are you okay? You were screaming.”

“Yes ma’am.” Nicholas cleared his throat. “It was just… a bad dream. Sorry if I woke you and dad.”

He heard a faint chuckle.

“Oh you know your father. The man doesn’t wake up for anything. Are you sure you’re okay? Can I bring you anything?”

“I’m fine, honest.”

He knew she wasn’t convinced, but didn’t pry any farther. She bid him goodnight, promising him his favorite breakfast in the morning.

When he was sure his mother had gone, Nicholas collapsed back onto his bed. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he threw his arm across his face.

“Jolly,” Nicholas whispered, voice nothing but pained rasp, “do the nightmares ever stop?”

Jolly Masterlist

Ruffilo Masterlist

Warm hands slip under your baggy shirt followed by soft, breathy kisses on the nape of your neck. Your hips are pressed into the kitchen counter and you feel something hard against your rear.

“Well, hello there.” You chuckle lightly, turning around to wrap your arms around Nicholas’ neck. He nuzzled into your neck and peppers the skin in even lighter kisses.

"I've been horny all day, and I need you fix it.” He breathes, breath hot against your skin.

Nicholas tried to dip his hands into your bottoms, but he was swatted away. He pouted, sad steel eyes netting yours. You cupped his bulge and he buried his face into your neck again to muffle some of his loud, whiny moan. His cock was straining behind his jeans.

“What’s got my sweet baby boy so worked up, hm?” You continued to tease him, applying more pressure to him crotch and relishing in his soft whimpers. “Have I been neglecting you?”

Nicholas shakes his head. “No, not all. I just—“

His hands grip your waist as you unbutton his jeans and slip your hand past his waistband. It’s a struggle to wrap your hand around him between his size and how tight his pants are, but you manage to wrap enough around it that he sighs.

“Oh baby, you are hard. Would like some help?”

He nodded quickly. "I need you right now, couch, kitchen floor, anywhere, just take me now."

You contemplated his words, wondering how you should take him. You’d hate to tease him more because you know he has to be aching—but he’s so sweet when he begs.

“Hmm, I don’t know Nicky,” you start to pull your hand away, smiling at the tiny protest he makes, “I’m not sure I’m in the mood.”

With your free hand, you grab a delicate fistful of his shoulder length raven locks and pry him away from your neck.

His pupils are blown so wide, you can hardly see the light color of his irises. There’s a deep longing and craving in them on full display. They’re just ever so glassy, pleading for you to take care of him. You can also see the desperation pouring out of him. His lips are parted slightly and they look dry.

You let go of his cock long enough to push down his jeans to free him completely, then stroked him slowly. His eyes rolled back and he sigh heavily at the relief. Nicholas melted in your hand, turning quickly to a mess of whimpers. He leaned most of his body weight against you, leaving you to hold both of your body’s upright.

“Nicky,” you whispered in his ear. “This isn’t a very sanitary place for this, my love.”

His eyes widened when you stopped touching him and he pouted oh so prettily for you. His expression resembled that of a kicked puppy.

“I think we should do this in the privacy of our room, don’t you?”

Reluctantly, Nicholas nodded, stepping out your grasp. He only took one step before you scolded him.