#sinners stack

Stack purrs out against the bare leg that’s currently hiked over his broad shoulder, voice dripping with condescension that’s a lot sweeter than the way he’s fucking into you.

The question is mean but it has its intended effect.

Goosebumps break over the surface of your flushed skin, choking on a whiny moan, cunt pulsating so tightly around him that he can feel you in his bones. A flurry of hiccuping sobs pour from your mouth cause you’re close. Again. Ordinarily, you’d try to defend your good name since you really were in fact not easy…or at least not until you’d met Stack. You’d heard of him before but never had the pleasure of making his acquaintance until he came strolling through your moms shop one day and found you instead.

At first you were stunned just making eye contact with him. Lidded brown eyes, dimples, plump lips- the gold on his teeth glinting at you and damn he was tall. Strutting up to introduce himself to you, accent thick with charm. However, you’d already heard of him and his way of giving women the roundabout and you’d decided right then and there that you’d be damned 11 ways to Sunday before you ever caught yourself on your back or knees for him.

Unfortunately, he was as relentless as he was gorgeous. Steadily pursuing you with the devil in his eyes and a grin on those full lips. Always hanging around- then, he’d disappear. As indifferent as you tried to be, dancing around his advances with light giggles and playful hands, when he’d vanish, you’d find yourself missing his face- or rather- his way of being, more like. See, Stack had this carefree almost cavalier demeanor but he was firm too. To you, that was his most attractive quality.

And he’d picked up on it. That you liked when he was a little firm with you.

From there all it took was a kiss.

Just barely brushing your lips when he leaned down, whispering teasingly against your lips, finger underneath your chin and you couldn’t keep the want from dripping out your eyes if you tried.

“Stop playing with me.”

To your surprise but not his- you listened.

Funny how you were so determined not to fall into his gravity and now look at you; sweat out hairstyle, sheer stockings ripped to hell along with your bra and underwear, being manhandled every which way, stretched out and creaming around the fattest cock you’ve ever had in your life as you moan in bliss- loving it.

Stack’s thrusts are deliciously brutal, hips snapping into yours while your legs hang over his shoulders like some harlot and sounding just like one, mouth dropped open while you cry and whine real pretty for him. Hissing through his teeth at the sight you make, Stack wedges his hands underneath the arch at the base of your back and grips tight- using your body as leverage to fuck into you even deeper. If the heat of the room wasn’t making you delirious then the way the fat head of his was smushing rough kisses into that soft patch of nerves would definitely do the trick. If this is what playing hard to get gets you then you’re seriously considering becoming a professional.

It gets to the point where your pussy is almost as loud as you are, prompting Stack to look down. A loud whistle barely makes it through the fog in your head and you try to bring your vision to focus. Your heart is going at least 100 miles per minute and you squeak as your legs are pushed so far back that your knees are touching your ears, Stack moving directly on top of you. Where the sudden flexibility came from you had no clue- but your awe is almost immediately overtaken by how full the new position has you feeling.

“O-oooh!”

Stack bites his lip as he watches your pretty face melt in pleasure, your normally sleepy eyes pop wide open, brows drawn together like you’re about to cry, lips forming that sexy ‘o’ as he slows down his strokes- letting you feel every inch of him. You were so gorgeous. Naked curves and soft skin crashing and rolling back into him then wrapping around even though you initially wanted damn near nothing to do with him. The thought makes him smirk in satisfaction until he’s brought out of his thoughts by the feel of your trembling hand just above where your bodies are connected. He pulls out halfway nice n slow, looking down to see what the fuss is and his heart almost pounds out of his chest.

Slathered all over his dick, is milky white. It streams out generously from your hole around where he’s stuffed in and Stack feels himself start to lose his mind a little bit as he moans out,

“Yeahhh mamas, she’s real easy f’me…”

He doesn’t take his eyes off your cunt as he slams back in with a wet ‘plap’- throwing his head back with a deep groan. The sound is so primal it sends nasty shivers up your spine but you don’t move your hand and he’s folding you even deeper, lowering his upper body almost completely against yours, pelvis grinding against your clit and you gasp wetly. Stack is wild, sucking bruising kisses into your neck, tongue trailing hotly up to your mouth to claim it in a deep kiss. It’s consuming. His big tongue flattening against yours in maddening swipes, sucking the muscle sloppily into his own mouth making you lightheaded- blood rushing through your ears as he starts his hips up again, grinding away at that spot inside you but not quite as deep and he pulls away.

He watches you gasp desperately, moving not even an inch away from your face as he nips at your bottom lip, soothing the sting with his tongue before whispering inside your mouth- eyes glazed,

“Move that hand, baby.”

Your name might as well be Sunday morning cause that’s exactly how easy you are, body obeying him before you even tell it to. As soon as you do, he doesn’t waste a second, big hands hook underneath your knees- railing you stupid. He’s not even trying to think straight, caught up in in not just the heat but how tight- how creamy- you are. Letting out a string of swears, he captures your mouth in another overwhelming kiss, cock aching while he swallows your wails as you twitch and shake around him.

You can’t take anymore. Stack gives another harsh, slick roll of his pelvis into your swollen nub while battering that tender spot inside you and you’re coming. And Jesus Christ on a bike- you’re coming hard. Clawing at Stack’s beefy muscles, a swarm of stars completely eclipse your vision while you’re shocked with wave after wave of vicious pleasure. You’re so loud you struggle recognize your own voice but Stack’s is clear as the ecstasy pumping through your body. Filthy words of praise and encouragement directly in your ear, prolonging your orgasm.

“Thaaat’s it, dollface.. aalll over me…”

Tears spill from your eyes and you’re close to tapping out when Stack buries his head into your chest, taking one of your puffy nipples into his mouth, thrusts slowing as he shoots deep inside your heat with a muffled groan, stuffing your hole to the brim until he pops off your tit with a satisfied sigh.

You’re tired, your back is killing you, and your shaking like a baby deer but a grin makes its way onto your lips regardless as Stack kisses all over you, pulling out slowly, warm eyes checking over your form for any sign of discomfort while you bask in the coziness after, closing your eyes to enjoy a much needed break until he interrupts it. Kissing your cheek in that tender way he does when he’s fixing to look after you.

“You okay? Ain’t hurtin’ none?”

You shake you head, eyes closed even as he pats you dry gently with his shirt, tossing on the floor when he’s done. Less sweaty, it’s easier for you to nap but something was missing. Reaching up, your hand swipes though the air as you blindly reach for him, eventually catching his chain as you yank him down next to you with a soft pleased little hum. Yes, you’d sleep just fine now.

And when you wake up?

You’re face to face with a big rock on your finger.

There could be a lot said about Elias “Stack” Moore. He was hardheaded, a slick talker, and dangerous. Keen on having all his suits tailored to perfection, he nevver stepped out without the matching tie and pocket square, tie clip, hat—every element meticulously chosen.

Some nights you’d finish your entire night routine, nestling yourself right into the covers ready to finally get some sleep after a long day, just for your husband—who’d probably had an even longer day—to keep you up with his antics.

“How you feel about this one baby?” He asks, stepping out of your shared closet with a silky red tie in his hands.

“Looks like the ten other ties you’ve shown me, Elias,” you huff, trying to keep your smirk down, knowing that’d get him a little frustrated. He took the little details very seriously. And right on schedule, he kisses his teeth and sends a pointed glare in your direction before retreating back into the closet.

“No vision,” he mutters under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

“I should lock you and that vision of yours in the damn closet so I can get some sleep,” you grumble, just wishing he’d just get in the bed already.

“You know you can’t just lock all this pimpin’ in the closet, pretty girl,” sending a sly grin with a wink in your direction, he turns out all of the lights, finally putting his outfit planning antics to bed for the night.

Stack even made sure his brother, Smoke—who couldn’t care less about what he was wearing unless the job got done—was put together. Because in Stack’s words, “I have a reputation to uphold,” and “If you got my face you gotta look the part.” He practically considered it his “duty” to stay fly. So naturally, when you two got together, he did the same with you. Despite your countless objections, he was insistent on having some of your dresses custom made, making sure he had the best seamstress in town—who just so happened to be your mother—have a nice pocket square and tie made out of the extra fabric. In fact, Stack was your mama’s best customer—always insisting on damn near doubling whatever she asked for, which was already too low in his opinion. He was never one to turn down an opportunity to remind everyone that you were his, and most importantly, that he was all yours.

You had one more fitting for the dress Elias commissioned your mother to make over Sunday dinner a few weeks back, and he was more than willing to take you. Already heading into town to handle some business with Smoke, your husband brings you along to drop you off at your mother’s shop. But that plan was on the verge of falling apart since he practically held you hostage in the car. Trapping you with “just one more kiss baby” after every kiss. And even then, if you so much as thought about touching a door in his presence, he’d throw a fit. It wasn’t until you reminded your oh so affectionate husband that all the ladies in the shop, including your mother, along with everyone walking down the street could see you two and that his brother would come looking for him if he was late, that he stopped coming in for more kisses. And not to anyone’s surprise, only the threat of his brother got him moving right along.

You blissfully spent the next two hours in your mother’s shop. You’d gotten all the best gossip, taking a mental note of all the details and questions you’d bring back to Stack, who to his credit, always patiently listened and indulged in whatever gossip fell into your lap. You went back and forth with your mama, insisting she could bring the neckline down just a little, huffing and puffing that you were grown and married, until she begrudgingly gave in. You got to recount bits and pieces of your married bliss, the two younger girls in the room hanging onto your every word as if you were reciting the best fairytale ever written. And you even managed to successfully dodge any questions related to why you’d been married for a little over a year now with no baby Moore on the way. You’d consider the day a success.

“And I don’t know why I need a new dress. Elias said it’s for when he takes me dancin’, but we just went out last weekend,” you reason, trying to figure out what he was up to.

“You know that boy love to spoil you Y/n,” one woman pipes up, stopping her work on the garment in front of her to give you a knowing look.

“Maybe he wanna—,“ but before the young girl could even finish her starry-eyed guess the small bell above the front door rings, forcing everyone’s attention in that direction. And speaking of the devil, in walks your husband with a toothpick between his teeth and a smile brighter than all the stars combined.

“Well ain’t you just prettiest thing the Delta done ever seen,” Stack muses, pulling the toothpick from between his teeth and taking in your red clothed form. Your cheeks immediately warm up at the grandeur of his compliments. It didn’t help that you were front and center in the room, standing right on the small platform with the threefold mirror staring right back at you.

Walking further inside, he takes the structured hat off of his head and greets all the women, stopping to properly greet your mother with a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Ain’t she so pretty,” he adds, stepping right up to your side, taking in the dress that was in his signature crimson, it hugged your body perfectly, the delicate pattern catching the light just right. The unanimous hum of approval from all the ladies only makes your cheeks hotter.

He then lifts your left hand in his and plants a delicate kiss to your jeweled ring finger as he admires you through the mirror in front of you.

“Hell, all of Mississippi ain’t got shit on you,” he breathes out, taking all of you in one more time.

“You better watch that mouth Elias,” Mrs. Bea grumbles from your right side, causing your mother to snicker behind you—already being somewhat used to his potty mouth.

“Now how you doin’ Ms. Bea,” Stack beams sweetly, peeking out from your side to flash the golds in his mouth to the older woman across from him.

“Doin’ fine. Would be better if you stopped all that cussin’,” she shoots back, causing you and everyone in the shop to erupt into laughter.

“Now I can’t make no promises ‘bout that ma’am,” Stack truthfully confesses.

“Plus ya girl right here love it when I cuss real good,” his eyes are locked squarely on yours, a sinful glint blooming behind them. By now, your husband is grinning from ear to ear, the dimple on his left cheek on full display. You were just itching to poke it if that meant he’d stop.

“Boy you better stop, you know this girl gon’ burst into flames,” your mother snickers, placing the last pin in place for alterations. Was everyone out to get you right now?!

“Alright baby, you can go take this off, should be done by the end of the week,” she adds, helping you down from the platform alongside Elias.

“Thanks mama,” you softly breathe out, the corners of your mouth curling up into a gracious smile as you squeeze her hand. She reciprocates with a soft smile and sends you off on your way to go change.

“Need some help Mrs. Moore?” He offers, his voice laced with nothing but sin and a smirk plastered across his face to match. Your head immediately whips in his direction, eyes screaming, begging for him to stop. You step in closer to him, palms planted on his chest, eyes searching his for any hint of sense.

“Can you wait outside for me, I’ll be right out. I promise,” you whisper sweetly, gripping onto his suit lapels, smoothing out the crisp edges. While you were trying to be firm, you couldn’t stop yourself from your senses being pleasantly overwhelmed with the scent of his cologne mixing with the tobacco from his cigarettes.

“Nah, I’m good right here babygirl,” Elias pokes back, enjoying the way he was making you blush.

“If you go wait in the car, I’ll be real sweet to ya when we get home,” you lean up to whisper right in his ear, softly and ever so slightly pressing your body against his, knowing his ultimate weakness was you.

“That’s all you had to say, woman,” your husband beams, lightly wrapping a hand around your forearm and planting a small kiss to your lips before stepping away from you. You send a wink his way before turning towards the changing rooms, Ms. Bea following behind you, giving Stack a pointed look—almost daring him to watch you walk away. And he still did anyway.

“And before you even ask, I already set aside some extra fabric for that tie and pocket square of yours,” your mother informs, cleaning up her workspace.

“You know you my favorite mother-in-law right?” He proudly asks, earning a couple laughs from some of the women in the room and earning an eye roll from your mother.

“Gotta be able to match my favorite lady,” he proudly states, his smile softening at the thought.

“I’m gon’ get out y’all’s way now. The missus wants me gone I suppose,” Stack continues, feigning hurt as he carefully places the hat back on his head.

“I’ll see you on Sunday,” he finishes, giving your mom one final hug and kiss to the cheek and making his way to the door, sending a small wave to the other women in the room.

“That mean I’ll see you at church too, right?” Your mom quips, already knowing the answer.

“I don’t know about all that now,” your husband laughs, shaking his head as he pushes the door open, stepping out into the hot Mississippi air.

You can hear the ladies chatting back and forth as you carefully take off the dress in progress and put your original outfit back on.

“He sure is some trouble, that Elias Moore,” one woman grumbles, eyes looking towards your mother as she gets her own alterations done.

“But ain’t he just so sweet to her?” A much younger seamstress sighs, completely entranced with yours and Elias’ love story.

“That he is,” your mom replies to them both.

“But they a perfect match, that’s for sure,” she continues, looking out of the window to see Stack leaning against the car puffing at a cigarette and a bright image of your smile whenever you’re with him etched into her mind.

And you in the dressing room, hearing all the chatter, were fighting back the widest smile—the kind that hurt a little if you smiled for too long. Because it was true—you and Elias were a perfect match.

After that day you cried for hours. Screamed till your throat was raw and your voice was gone. Some nights, when the moon is full and your bed is too cold, you wish you’d broken free from their hold. That you’d clawed through them and leapt into Stack’s arms, allowing him pull you down into the night where the living couldn’t go.

But on other nights, when you were thinking clearly, you thank the Lord for what they did. You thank them for keeping your warm blood running through your veins, for keeping your soul as your own. Everyday it’s a mental war, a fight between your wants and your needs.

After a few months, when you were ready to talk about things, Annie told you about the hive mind among vampires, the way all of them stay connected, like roots under dirt. Their mind and thoughts shared between the group. Annie told you that Stack was likely lost to it now, that once Remmick gets in your head, you don’t even belong to yourself anymore.

In the beginning, when the wounds were still fresh, you wanted to believe that Stack was fighting it, that he would come back to you, but he never did. You kept hoping you would see him standing on your porch like a lost puppy, that you would hear his voice within the walls of your home, or hear his shoes stepping on your porch, but you never did.

When months turned into years you stopped watching the window, stopped getting your hopes up, and finally faced the reality that Stack wasn’t coming back, that he’s gone forever. In your mind Stack was no longer himself, just a shell of his appearance with Remmick’s voice inside, a soldier in the army of darkness.

You aren't mad at him for leaving you, you know it isn't his fault, you just want him to come back to you.

Even though you tried to move on, your mind and body betray you. You aren’t filled with grief anymore, your filled with need. Yearning for a man that can’t return to you. Some nights you wake up soaked with slick between your thighs, heart beating like you’ve been touched by Stack’s calloused hands. Your legs clenched tight, nipples sore from your own restless hands trying to replace the ache in your core.

And to make things worse, you can hear him in your head: low, smooth, and fiery. “Lemme taste you, baby.” His voice would echo around your mind, making you moist, making it felt like he was actually whispering the words into your ear while hovering over your frame, placing soft kisses against your neck.

You miss him so much it feels like you’re being haunted by his ghost. Only it isn’t a ghost, at least it doesn’t feel like one. Because ghosts don’t make your skin prickle like this. Don’t make the air grow thick and sweet like molasses every time you close your eyes. Ghosts don’t whisper in your ear at night with heat behind every syllable, and they don’t leave bruises on your soul.

You don’t tell anyone, feeling like they wouldn’t understand or make you feel crazy, but when you’re deep in the dark, half-asleep and twisted in damp sheets, it doesn't feel like a memory at all. It feels like him, like Elias Moore is with you again.

—

You don’t remember falling asleep. One moment, you’re lying awake, sheets damp with sweat and panties soaked in your juices, and the next, Stack’s voice buzzing in your head like static from an old radio. The next, you blink and the air in your room is still, thick, like the atmosphere has shifted.

Everything feels heavy like you’re trapped in a fever dream. It’s dark, but not the usual dark. The shadows curve strangely, like they are watching your every move. The moon outside your window hangs low, shining brightly but coated with an unusual tinge of red.

When you sit up in bed, that’s when you feel a shift. The air grows sweeter and somehow warmer while the air presses down on your skin. You can see a figure emerge from the darkness, making your blood run cold and want to bolt out your bedroom but for some reason you don’t, you stay planted where you are, allowing your curiosity to get the best of you.

Your breath hitches before you even see it, before you know who’s there. “Damn, baby. You that wet f’me already?” That voice. A voice you haven’t heard in almost a decade, not with your ears anyway, but one that your soul never stopped aching for.

Your eyes dart to the corner, following the sound and there he is, Elias Moore, standing in your room like he never left, like he hasn’t been dead, gone, and buried beneath Remmick’s mind control.

Some parts of him don’t seem the same. His body’s too still. His shadow lurks for too long. But his face… Lord help you, his face is just how you remember it: sharp, smug, and so pretty it hurts. His smile crooks when he sees the way your mouth parts, your thighs clenching together while you watch his juicy lips move on one accord.

“Knew you missed me,” he says, sauntering forward, smirking so wide that you can see his gold grills. “Could smell it on ya’.” He circles your bed, nice and slow. The light from the window catches the faint gleam of his fangs as he speaks. “All that corn liquor and prayin’… but you still moanin’ my name in your sleep like I’m the Lord Almighty.”

You can’t move, can’t speak. All you can do is feel, feel your body react like it knows it belongs to Stack. Like you were stitched together for the sole purpose of unraveling under the command of his voice. You don’t even know what to say to him, you just look up at him with your big brown eyes, trying to wrap your mind around what’s happening.

Stack leans down beside you, one knee on the bed, while his hand rests on your leg. “You don’t gotta be ashamed no mo’. I been hearin’ you. Every time you touch yourself pretendin’ it’s me.” His voice lowers to a growl, taking in a whiff of your alluring scent, his eyes flashing a shade darker. “Your body been callin’ me, girl. Louder than it ever did when I was alive.”

“You… you really here?”

He smiles soft, that same grin he gave you at Club Juke before everything went to hell, before the best day of your life turned into the worst. “As here as you want me to be.”

His hand drags slowly up your leg, fingers cool but burning in their own way. He pulls the quilt down and exposes your physique that’s still clinging to the cotton material of your nightgown, sleek with sweat, nipples stiff from the sight of him, and your heart thumping out of your chest with nerves.

You stare at him like your eyes are playing tricks on you, but your body already believes he’s real, you can tell from his touch alone. Your thighs squeeze tighter, lips parted, chest rising faster by the second, while your body radiates with heat. “How… how you here?”

Stack chuckles low in his throat, trying to come up with the best response since there’s a multiple elements to the answer. “Don’t matter how, baby.” he murmurs, leaning close enough for your skin to prickle. “Jus’ matters that I am.”

Your body is one of the main reasons Stack’s here, it’s been calling him ever since he left but recently it’s been louder than ever. He knew he had to make his way to you, even if he had to make a deal with the devil to do it.

His gaze sweeps over you, slow and greedy, like he’s mesmerizing by how much your body has grown and filled out since he left. “Tried runnin’ from it. Tried to jus’ do as Remmick told me, but I couldn’t stay away from you.”

You breathe in sharp, his eyes staring at your body making you feel weak in the knees. “I thought… I thought you was gone. Thought you belonged to him now.”

“I did,” he says, averting his gaze thinking about what he’s been going through over the past year as a vampire. “He took everything, my soul, my reflection, my mind. Said if I stayed under him, he’d be able to make me happy but I can’t be happy without you in my life.”

His grin fades a little, eyes locking with yours again, taking off his hat and placing it on your little nightstand. “I remembered how you looked at me that night. Like I still had a soul, like you loved me even though I ain’t human no mo’.”

You blink back the heat in your eyes, placing your hand on top of his as it rests against your thigh. “What changed? How you back here wit’ me?” You ask again but with different wording than before, wanting to know how him sitting in front of you became possible after all this time apart.

Stack leans down, fingers ghosting over your skin, creeping up your body like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch but still testing the waters. “I made a deal. Gave Remmick whateva’ he wanted and in return, he gave me a few thangs.”

“What’s that?”

“You,” he says, quietly, his eyes softening. “ Your dreams. Let me see my own reflection. But I had to become… something else to let me do all that. Had to become… half demon.”

You blink slow, like the words don’t land right at first, not understanding how he could be part demon and part vampire at the same time. “Half… demon?” you whisper, like saying it aloud might wake you from whatever twisted spell your under.

Stack’s thumb drags lazy circles across your skin, his touch cold but familiar. “Incubus,” he murmurs, eyes flickering between his usual muddy brown and his vampire gray. “Remmick said if I wanted to see my reflection, wanted to see you, I had to give up somethin’ to become somethin’ else. Had to shed the last bit of man left in me.”

He sits back slightly, chest rising slow, and for the first time, you really look at him. There’s a glow to his skin now. Not bright, it’s like embers glowing in black ash. His fangs catch the light from the blood-colored moon. His shadow crawls unnaturally along the walls, following his movements like it got a mind of its own.

But his face—his eyes—still hold that flicker of Stack. That sweet, conniving boy you love more than your own breath. “Does it hurt?” you ask, throat tightening while giving his hand a light squeeze, wanting to know what it’s like being supernatural. “Bein’ like… this?”

“Sometimes. But the worst part was bein’ without you.”

You sit up slowly, reaching for him. Your fingers brush his jaw, touching his facial hair, and to your surprise, he leans into it, his eyes fluttering shut, basking in your affection like he hasn’t been touched since he last saw you. “You still feel like you.” you whisper.

Your hand drifts downwards, fingers pressing against his chiseled chest that’s covered by his clothing, feeling the faint thump beneath skin that should’ve been cold and still but there’s still a beat there. It’s faint and echoed but it’s there, beating like a secondhand rhythm, as if it’s trying to sync with yours.

You smile softly when you feel his heartbeat, happy that there’s still some life behind his eyes, that Remmick didn’t take the most precious parts of him away. “I dreamed of this,” you murmur, slowly running your hands over his pecs. “You comin’ back to me.”

His eyes open slowly while he gets up and hovers over your frame, mouth inches away from yours, so close that his breath is prickling your skin. “Then lemme make it real, baby. Make up for lost time.”

You nod once, breathing him in, allowing him to wander your body and do as he pleases. Stack kisses you like he’s trying to burn his name into your throat, like he’s trying to make you remember that your body belongs to him and him only.

His tongue sweeps in slow, taking his time, like he missed the taste of your mouth just as much as he missed your presence. You moan into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you while your thighs spread to welcome him home.

His hand creeps under your little nightgown and slides between your legs, fingers sliding through your puffy folds, spreading them open with his fingers until his fingertips begin circling your clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure like he already knows the rhythm you've been chasing in the dark all these years.

Your back rises from the bed while you gasp for air, and he shushes you soft. “I got you, baby.” he whispers against your cheek. “Jus’ relax.” He lowers himself, his tongue creating wide, wet licks against your folds. He takes his time eating your pussy; he grips your thighs and keeps your legs pried open, lips latched to your clit, and swirls his tongue in meticulous circular motion, lapping up every drop of arousal your body produces.

His tongue never leaves you, but you feel a shift. Not just in your body, but in the room itself. The air thickens, pressing heavy against your skin. His shadow stretches unnaturally long across the walls, his shadow much larger than his actual physique, as if the darkness is showing you his true form, the one he’s hiding so he doesn’t scare you.

You whimper, fingers running through his hair, tugging like you don’t know whether to pull him closer or push him and his eager tongue away. He groans into your cooze, a sound that vibrates straight through your clit, and when his eyes flick up, they flash a molten shade between gray and red, showing his vampire hunger bleeding into his incubus lust.

This goes on for a while, Stack showering your pearl love with powerful sucks and long licks with his tongue, making you moan and whine, but what he does next catches you off guard.

He bites.

Not deep, not enough to break your skin open like a wound, but enough to pierce the plush of your inner thigh, just beside where he’s devouring you. The sting makes you gasp, back arching, but it surprisingly doesn't hurt the way you thought it would. The pain morphs into something hotter, sharper, like fire rushing through your veins, making your toes curl and your pussy clench.

When your crimson liquid settles on Stack’s tongue, his eyes widen in awe. He hasn’t tasted blood this good in all his time of being a vampire. He’s always known your special, sweet, and tasted like honey, but he didn’t think your blood would reflect that.

Now that he’s consumed your blood and tasted its richness, those few droplets of blood won’t be enough. He needs more, much more. He needs your blood to consume his system.

It’s addictive, intoxicating, your blood gives him a high that nothing else can and before the night is over he will gain that feeling again.

Stack growls against your skin, feeding in two ways at once: mouth sucking hard at your clit, while licking the blood that’s dripping down your thigh, slurping both liquids like his life depends on it, because in a way it does.

While Stack devours you, it feels like your head is spinning. You swear you can feel your soul tugging, inching toward him like a moth being lured to flame.

The room tilts, heavy with a smoldering heat, and when you close your eyes, you see flickers of him, not the Stack that’s in front of you, but the one that used to make you breakfast in the morning despite his horrible cooking skills, the one who would pull you into the backroom of Club Juke when he wanted a taste of you, the Stack before he became the monster in front of you.

“Fuck, Stack.” You whine when you feel his fingers slowly begin to make their way into your dripping pussy, while his eyes stay focused on your beautifully twisted facial expressions and squirming body.

His skilled fingers begin to fuck you, maneuver themselves in a way that makes you feel things you can’t begin to explain, touching your soul in ways your fingers couldn’t no matter how hard you tried. “That feels good, don’t it baby?”

At first you weren’t even going to respond with words, but when you feel the delicious stretch of his fingers working overtime and the wet sounds of your greedy pussy welcoming her kng back to his castle, you yelp out a “Yes!” before grabbing at your cotton sheets, balling your hands into the soft material, making Stack smirk with pleasure.

When you don’t think the pleasure you feel can get any better, Stack adds a third finger inside you, pushing himself knuckles deep into your wetness while his tongue stays focused on your precious button. Now you can feel tears prickling at your eyes, the pleasure you’re feeling beginning to overwhelm your system.

That familiar sensation of a knot forming in your stomach floods your system, making you roll your hips to meet Stack’s thrusts, eagerly chasing your erotic high. Stack knows you’re about to cum, he can feel, smell it, taste it even. His movements increase in both speed and intensity, wanting this orgasm to crash over you.

His fingers picking up the pace as his mouth stays attached onto your clit, licking and sucking between each thrust of his fingers. By moving your hips in rhythm with his calloused digits, it helps the aching knot within your core finally snap, causing you to cry out in sweet bliss.

Pulling away from your spent pussy, Stack comes up for air, his plump lips and facial hair glistening with a beautiful mixture of your slick and blood. “This pussy…” his voice drops to a growl, thick with lust. “Still sweet enough to kill a man.” He mumbles with a thin smirk across his face before leaning over you.

He cups your face, thumb swiping the corner of your mouth, and then he’s kissing you. Both of your mouths move in sync with each other as your own juices begin to smear against your lips, allowing you to taste your own arousal.

It’s not a gentle kiss. It’s hot, sloppy, and wet. His tongue sliding against yours, teeth dragging over your bottom lip, while your hands find a place to rest around his neck. You moan into him and he swallows it down with ease.

Tasting your own slick is something that’s never happened before, let alone your own blood but for some reason, you enjoy it. It’s the right mixture of sweet and salty. You see why just the taste of you has Stack’s pupils blown wide when he hasn’t even fucked you yet.

When he finally pulls back, there’s a silvery string of saliva still connecting your mouths, like a representation of how even though you and Stack haven’t been together in years, your souls are still connected no matter how hard you try to deny it.

You look up at him, chest rising and falling, eyes soft but dazed. A thousand questions are crawling up your throat: is this real? why does it feel like this? what happens when you bite me? but before you can get any of them out, he presses a finger to your lips.

“Shhh,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing your cheek. “I know you scared, baby. I can feel it rollin’ off ya'. But I ain’t here to hurt you.” His voice is rough, but the pad of his thumb is soft.

His words slip through you like smoke: gentle, coaxing, and impossible to resist. The pad of his thumb strokes your skin in lazy circles, and the warmth in his eyes feels almost like a spell itself. “I’m jus’ here tuh’ love on ya’. That’s all.”

You swallow, trembling, feeling as if you should be scared of what Stack has become, that he’s technically not even human anymore and here you are allowing him in in your bed, giving him space in your mind, and allowing him full access to your body. “Stack…”

“I mean it.” He shifts, standing up to undo his belt, his dark eyes never leaving yours. “I been walkin’ a long road, fightin’ what’s inside me. But I ain’t never plan on usin’ it to hurt you. I come here to see my woman, give her the good lovin’ she deserves. To be back in her life.”

The room feels smaller when he moves, heat prickling at your skin as Stack’s presence thickens in the air. The lights seem to dim around him, the edges of the world fading until it’s only him and you.

Once his belt is unbuckled he pushes his pants down, then his boxers, and all of his other clothing until he’s completely bare. He steps back to the bed, climbing onto the mattress so he’s towering over you, still looking into your eyes. “If you want me gone,” he says quietly, hitting you with his smooth as silk tone. “I’ll leave and neva’ come back. I won’t touch you again. You say the word and I’m gone.”

For a moment the room is only the sound of your heavy breathing. Your hearing his words, but it’s hard to focus when his body is on perfect display before you. His pecs look nice and firm, his abs are divine, his thighs are muscular, and the main attraction, his dick. It’s so thick and heavy it completely hangs over you and rests against your stomach.

This incubus and vampire mixture has done his body well, in many ways than one. You've always considered Stack to be a well-endowed man but somehow he’s gotten bigger, thicker, and gained some inches in length.

You don’t want to allow his body and how well he can fuck to influence your decision but for some reason your mind feels foggy, like there’s an unusual force that’s convincing you to allow him to stay. His voice hums in your veins, each word vibrating somewhere deep inside, blurring fear and longing until they’re the same thing.

You can’t tell if it’s you wanting him, or the invisible thread he’s weaving around you, that low, thrumming pull that keeps drawing you in no matter how hard you try to resist.

Each word he speaks goes straight in your veins like a drug, vibrating under your skin, and suddenly your fear doesn’t feel sharp anymore; it’s softened, muddled with heat, with longing, and something that feels dangerously like trust.

Stack leans closer, and even without touching you, the air around him presses against your skin, warm and heavy, carrying the scent of something so powerful you can’t name. Your mind rebels, trying to pull away, to remind yourself of what he is, what he’s done, the time he’s been gone, and the danger of letting him get close just to leave you again.

But then a whisper snakes through your thoughts: his voice, your name, the memory of his laugh, the ghost of his touch, and suddenly your resolve feels fragile, like it’s dissolving into mist.

“You know it ain’t just words,” he murmurs, voice low and vibrating somewhere inside your chest. “I can feel every beat of your heart. Hear every thought. Ain’t no hiding from me, girl.”

Your mind flinches at the intrusion of his voice. It's almost too much, his awareness threading through your brain, brushing over the fears you try to keep hidden. You should push back. You want to. But every time you try, it feels like swimming against a current you don’t have the strength to fight.

And beneath the tension, beneath the fog of his pull, you feel the love you’ve never stopped feeling. A raw, aching need that isn’t just body-deep, it's rooted in the depths of your soul. You love him.

Every part of him; the dangerous, devilish, unhuman parts just as much as the boy who once held you under the moonlight outside Club Juke. Even knowing he isn’t fully himself anymore, even knowing a part of him could destroy you if he wanted… you still want him, your body still desires him.

He tilts his head, watching you with those deep, unreadable eyes. His gaze, his hum, the vibration of his voice inside you, are trying their hardest to pull an answer out of you. “Ain’t you tired of fightin’ it?” he whispers softly, looking you directly in your brown eyes. “Jus’ let me be here. Jus’ let me love you.”

Your chest tightens. Your pulse flutters. You feel a shiver race up your spine, not from fear, but from the undeniable pull. The intoxicating, impossible gravity of him. And in the moment, even as your mind wavers, even as you fight with the small, reasonable voice inside your head, you realize something: letting him stay… letting him close… isn’t surrender. It’s the only thing that has ever felt right.

Your chest tightens, and your pulse thrums in your ears. The air between you feels alive, heavy with the weight of him, the heat of his presence, and the hum that snakes through your mind. Every thought you try to hold onto seems to dissolve, replaced by the insistent pull of his voice, his gaze, his very being.

“Stack…” Your voice is barely more than a whisper, your eyes blurry with both fear and lust, looking up at him with blown pupils that are filled with love and his intoxicating presence. “I… I want you to stay.”

The words hang in the air, small but full of conviction. Even as your mind quivers with fear, even as the fog of his influence dances through your thoughts, you speak the truth: you want him. Every part of him. His danger, his power, his hunger, all of it.

A flicker of something dark and hungry passes through his eyes, tempered immediately by a softness that’s reserved only for you. He leans closer, letting the warmth of his body envelop yours without touching, and his voice vibrates somewhere deep inside, stirring a thrill and a shiver all at once.

“You mean that?” he murmurs out loud as he exits your mind, the sound of his tone vibrating along your body. “You really want me… here?”

You nod, your lips parting slightly, heart hammering in your chest. “Yes… I want you. I need you. I don’t care what you’ve become. I want every part of you.”

For a moment, his eyes soften in a way that almost seems human, almost vulnerable. And then in an instant, that dark, magnetic pull returns. The invisible thread of his incubus power tugging gently, insistent but not cruel, guiding your surrender without forcing it. You feel your body respond even before your mind fully registers, a shiver racing along your skin, your breath hitching, your pulse syncing to his presence.

“Good,” he whispers, low, almost coming out as a growl. “Ain’t nothin’ I want more than to hear you say that.” He hovers like a living shadow over you, and even as your mind still flutters between caution and desire, there’s no denying it that you’ve chosen him. Even knowing the danger, even feeling the strange pull of his powers, you’ve given him the space to stay, to be near you.

And for the first time since he appeared, your fear and longing fuse into something dangerously beautiful. You’ve allowed him in, and he knows it. Every fiber of him can feel your decision, can taste the acceptance in your thoughts, he’s practically feeding off of your lust.

Your lips curve slightly in a shaky smile, and Stack tilts his head, allowing a low, satisfied hum to vibrate through the room. “That’s my woman,” he murmurs, voice thick with something feral, possessive, and hungry, yet laced with that reserved tenderness strictly for you. “Ain’t no turnin’ back now, baby.”

The words aren’t a threat. They’re a promise. And somehow, impossibly, within the mix of fear and desire, you feel like you’re exactly where you belong. You raise your hand, a slight quiver in it while you reach for Stack’s face. When your warm palm touches the cold skin along his cheek, his whole demeanor changes. He softens, leaning into your touch, a faint sound escaping him, somewhere between a sigh and a growl.

Soon enough, his lips meet yours, and the world narrows to a realm where only you and him exist. The kiss isn’t gentle; it’s a claim, a plea, an apology all at once. It represents you and him claiming each other all over again, accepting the changes both of you have made while apart.

You taste the faint trace of iron on his tongue, the ghost of his hunger, and still you pull him near until it feels like you might dissolve into him. When you finally break apart, unguarded thoughts slip through the haze of your mind; images of positions you want to be in, a flash of wanting to take control, and wanting to fulfill every single fantasy that’s plagued your mind since he left.

None of these thoughts are spoken aloud, but thanks to Stack’s hybrid abilities, he can read your mind clear as day. The instant any thought forms, he catches it before you can even realize it. Without saying a word, in a singular movement, Stack moves you and him in a position to where you’re on top.

The weight of his body now beneath yours, his hands resting at your hips, slowly rubbing against your skin. The quickness of his motion steals the air from your lungs, not from fear, but from the way he makes it feel inevitable, like gravity itself bent to your will.

You look down at him, at the mixture of devotion and danger in his eyes, and realize he isn’t taking control; he’s giving it, allowing you to have your way with his body any way you see fit. The incubus inside him listens not just to your words but to your heartbeat, your unspoken wishes, your desires. He’s going to make sure your every dream comes true tonight, giving you the homecoming you deserve.

You don’t know to do at first, you’re too nervous and in your head. You don’t know if you should kiss his happy trail, suck his dick, or just ride him. There’s so many things you want to do with his body you don’t know where to start. Plus, you want to be the best for him, you want to rock his world so hard he never leaves you again.

Stack can feel your worry radiating from you so he grabs your hand and places a kiss on your knuckles before resting your hand on his chest, right over his pecs. “Take what’s yours, sweetheart.”

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes, calming your mind and heart before making your first move. Stack’s been your man for so long, your name is practically engraved on his pelvis from how many times your ass has met it from his thrust. Stack’s body is yours, every part of him belongs to you so there’s no reason to be nervous.

When you open your eyes, your gaze locking with Stack’s, and you can see how eager he is to be inside you, to feel the warmth of your pussy engulf his body. You raise up a little, allowing space between you and him before grabbing his hardened dick, giving him a few long strokes before rubbing the tip along your wet folds.

You’re so wet, practically dripping from most of your own slick and half of Stack’s saliva from when he devoured your cunt. Once there’s enough of your juices gathered on his dick, using it as a lubricant, you align him with your hole, placing one hand on his shoulder for stability before slowly sinking onto his length. You bit your lip as his dick stretches your pussy, brows furrowed in concentration as you pause every couple of inches, allowing your body to adjust to Stack’s immense size.

While you're slowly making progress, working your way to fit all twelve inches of his monster dick inside of your pulsing walls, Stack’s already on the verge of loosing his composure. All his mind can focus on is the suffocating heat of your pussy engulfing his dick, swallowing him inch after inch, allowing his mushroom tip to work its way to your cervix.

Stack doesn’t move, doesn’t thrust into you, or slam you down so you can reach his pelvis, he just lays there and tries his best to control his rapid breathing and instincts to ram his dick into you until all your mind can think of is how good he’s fucking you.

You’re so tight, gripping his shaft with an overwhelming force, a feeling he’s missed every night since Remmick forced him into his vampire coven. Stack places his hands on your hips, wrapping his big palms around your skin with a firm grip, exhaling with a shaky breath before letting out a groan.

Once you feel acclimated with his size and your fully stuffed with his massive length, you lean forward and place your hands on his broad chest and meaty pecs, planting the soles of your feet on the mattress underneath you, lifting your hips, preparing yourself to ride.

Stack’s dick almost completely out of you, his tip the only thing residing in your velvety walls, quickly chipping away at his restraint of containing the raging sexual beast inside him. “C’mon, baby. Don’t me wait.” He growls, pressing his nails into your coco butter skin.

“Mm someone’s eager, musta really missed this cooze, huh?” You giggle softly, thinking it’s funny how Stack can’t control himself. You decide to end your man’s suffering and give him the pleasure he desires. Instead of moving cautiously like you were before when you were trying to adjust to size, you begin to ride.

You slam yourself down onto Stack’s dick, your pussy kissing his groin which pulls a moan out of Stack. He feels the head of his cock resting comfortably against your cervix, tenderly pressing against the opening of your womb.

Your hybrid man stares at you with a feverish gaze, his eyes darkening as his pupils grow with lust. Stack bites his bottom lip, his lower fangs piercing hard enough for him to taste copper, something he’s grown to love due to his vampire roots.

“Shit.” Stack mutters, feeling your slick slowly drip down his shaft, your warm cooze squeezing him like a vice as his cock twitches inside you. “Damn, this pussy wet.”

Instead of responding verbally, you just grin, taking in the compliment while allowing your body to do all the talking, knowing it’ll be able to respond in ways your words can’t.

Starting with a beautiful pace, moving your hips fast and hard, bouncing yourself on Stack’s cock, causing you and him to spill moans in the air, each sound vibrating from deep within your core.

Each time you lift your hips and slam them back down, your slick smears against your thighs, creating a sticky puddle to form on Stack’s pelvis and every time you move a slimy line connects between him and you.

His cock drives into the depths of your cooze, his inhuman girth stretching you out nice and wide, forming a delicious burn to spread through your core. All twelve inches somehow fits into your pussy after bullying it into your hole, your human body happily accepting his cock despite its new size.

As you ride ihim will all your strength, feeling his tip repeatedly press against pleasure points that you didn’t know were there, plugging his length inside your pussy over and over, forcing it deeper with every slam of your hips, makes it feel like his dick has reached your stomach, overwhelming your body with a feeling of being stuffed to brim. “You’re so big, Elias— Shit.” You whine while forcing his dick deeper with every slam of your hips.

You look down and that’s when you see the prominent bulge poking out of your stomach that forms every time he’s fully inside you. You’ve never seen anything like it. You take your hand, placing it over the area of your stomach that’s bulging out, in awe of how Stack’s dick could cause this to happen. You assume it’s because of it’s his incubus and vampire abilities that allows you to see his cock’s outline while it’s deep inside.

“Thanks to this demon blood runnin’ in my veins, I get to reach all up in yo’ shit.” Stack says before a groan forces its way out of his throat, feeling your intoxicating heat swallowing him whole as his heavy cock throbs inside you. Him being half-vampire and half-incubus isn’t all bad, it gives him many perks, one of them being a strong stamina. He’s able to have sex for hours without getting tired. He can empty his seed numerous of times and somehow rapidly produce more.

Your human body isn’t capable of doing the things he can. He knows you won’t be able to keep up with him and go round after round like when you both were human.

When he notices you becoming tired, your legs being to tremble from standing on them for too long, your chest heaving from tying to catch your breath, and practically feeling the burn in your legs, he decides to take the reigns.

Stack’s hands palm your ass, grasping a huge chuck of your flesh, before thrusting himself into you, lifting you up and down as if you weigh nothing. When you feel his hands grab you, forcing you down onto his cock, you let out a sharp gasp, feeling a slight pinch from his harsh grip on your ass but you aren’t complaining, especially not when he looks into your eyes like he wants to stay buried inside your pussy for the rest of eternity.

You decide to slightly change positions: moving off the soles of your feet, bending your legs and pressing your knees and shins on the mattress, and then leaning back to rest your hands on Stack’s thighs for support.

This position provides Stack with perfect view of yourself, allowing him to admire you fully. The bouncing of your breasts with every thrust, the curve of your hips, watching your tight pussy make his dick disappear every time he’s inside, gripping him tight, causing him twitch inside you, slowly aching for the moment where he’ll be able to spill his seed inside of you.

Stack can feel that your body is ready to release for the second time tonight, that an orgasm will be ripping through you any minute and he was going to allow his sweet girl the pleasure, until a thought popped into his head.

While mid-thrust, your moans and curses filling the room while his dick presses against your g-spot, he remembers how you used to fulfill your sexual desires when he was gone.

Around year three of him being gone, you were becoming more and more lonely. Not having a warm body to sleep next to you at night, someone to lick your cooze after a long day of work in the fields, or a nice long fuck when you were feeling desireable, made you look for love elsewhere.

During that time you dated a couple guys. Things were never serious, you just wanted to have some fun and try to forget about the hole Stack left in your heart. The men you had sex with were pretty decent in bed, but none of them fulfilled you the way you expected them to.

While Stack was away he could hear everything. Hear the thoughts in your mind, visuals the events that took place in your home, nothing happened that he didn't know about. Stack knows he shouldn’t be mad, that you had all the right to try and move on from him after he abandoned you, but he can’t help but feel himself getting angry, heat rising in chest, feeling his grip on you tighten even more, knowing it’ll form a bruise.

Stack thrusts begin to increase in pace, harshly forcing his dick inside you while slamming you against his pelvis at the same time, taking his anger out on you in the most rewarding way. “Them men you was fuckin’...” He says, feeling himself get more upset at the thought of you allowing another man between your legs. “Bet none of them could give you dick this good.” He pauses his words for a second, biting back a moan when he feels you flutter around him. “Ain’t that right?”

“Yes— fuck yes!” You yell out, feeling that coil in your stomach slowly beginning to tighten while your brain goes fuzzy, Stack’s monster dick overwhelming your senses, forcing you to only focus on the pleasure you feel pulsing through your veins and the sound of Stack’s hypnotizing voice.

“You ain’t neva gon’ fuck nobody else ya’ hear me? This pussy belongs to me, can’t be givin’ no bum nigga what’s mine.” Now that Stack’s back in your life, he ain't never gonna let you give your body to another soul, because if you do, he’ll kill them right where they stand, just like he had to the couple of guys you fucked. He couldn’t allow them to live another day being able to say they had sex with you, in Stack’s eyes they had to die.

“Yes— I- I- promise! I only want you, Stack.” After those numbered flings, you never had sexual relations with another man until now. None of them could make your body scream like Stack, pull multiple orgasms out of you in one night, and no one could devour your pussy like he could. Those men meant nothing to you while Stack means everything.

Stack knows you're being honest, especially since he can hear every thought formed in your mind, so he decides to let it go, not wanting to hold onto the past and things that happened during a time where you felt like he could never return.

The hybrid decides to shift gears on things, he doesn’t want to just fuck anymore, he wants to make love. With his ability to move at a milli second, before you can even blink your place on your back, looking up at Stack whose large frame is towering over you, his dick still fully buried inside your velvety walls.

Stack’s breath comes out heavy against your skin, the tension filling the room starting to shift, his gaze softening under the way he looks at you, not like a man angry or possessive, but one who’s afraid to lose the only thing that’s ever made him feel alive.

His hand slides up your waist and rests on your face, Stack’s rough palm meeting your cheek, looking at you with hearts in his eyes. His thumb brushes just below your eye, catching an unshed tear before it has the ability to pass the waterline. “You know I love you, right?”

You nod slowly, fingers curling around his wrist as you whisper, “I know…I love you too.” When Stack hears you express your love for him, despite your years of separation, his cold heart feels like it’s beating a mile a minute. His love for you has always run deep, even in the early days when he didn’t want to admit his heart had been swooned.

Stack’s eyes rack over your features, his colored irises staring at your plump lips before he leans down, kissing you softly, his fangs scraping along your lips, slightly breaking skin but not enough to draw blood. The longer the kiss lasts, the more it deepens, carrying years of pain, loss, and the kind of longing that only comes from missing someone down to the bone.

When Stack finally resumes his thrusts, his movements are slower than before, more tender, and full of a softness that stems from love over lust. The anger that once drove his strokes is gone. Now his body moves with devotion, a way to show you that he’s still yours, in every way that matters.

His forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he murmurs, “No matter what I turn into… I’ll always choose you. This life, the next one, it don’t matter. It’s always gon’ be you.”

Your heart softens instantly at his words, breaking wide. It’s like every ounce of tension that’s lived in your body for years: the fear from that night, the anger of him leaving, the loneliness that his absence caused, melts all at once beneath the sound of his voice. Every word drips with sincerity, that deep, ancient kind of love that’s always tied you to him, no matter what form he takes.

Your eyes sting, warmth blurring your vision. Maybe it’s from the heat of the moment, or maybe it’s because you know what he’s saying isn’t just a promise. It’s a vow. A truth that hums in your bones, thrumming with power, and devotion.

Your hands rise slowly, trembling as they find their way around his shoulders, pulling him closer until your breasts kiss his chest. His skin burns beneath your fingertips, searing and alive. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, the faint tremor that ripples through his muscles, and the pulse that matches your own.

You thread your fingers behind his neck, holding him as though your touch alone might keep him tethered to this realm, to you. He presses his nose to your cheek, his breath shaky against your skin, and for a moment it’s like you can feel his soul brushing yours, the edges of it rough and hungry, but still reaching, still yearning, two souls wanting to become one.

The space between love and surrender dissolves until there’s no boundary left to cross, no distinction between the two. Only the rhythm of your breaths, blending into one.

You’ve never felt anything like this. Not even in the wildest, most fevered memories of his touch. This closeness feels almost impossible to explain. It’s more than physical and more than lust. It’s a connection that hums deep in your blood, as though your bodies were carved to fit this way, as though his darkness and your light were meant to form something beautiful.

Maybe it’s his power that makes everything sharper, the way his energy heightens your senses, amplifies every breath, every heartbeat, and every tremor of desire. But you don’t care. Whatever this is, whatever he’s become, you wouldn’t trade him for anything.

Stack buries his face in the curve of your neck, the tip of his nose brushing against your skin as he breathes you in. Your scent floods him: soft, warm, and maddeningly sweet. His supernatural senses sharpen until it’s all he can focus on: the rhythm of your breath, the heat of your skin, the faint, metallic thrum of blood rushing beneath the surface. It’s too much and not enough all at once.

His mouth parts before he even realizes it, a low sound rumbling in his chest as the faint taste of your blood lingers on his tongue, pulling him deeper into the spell that only you can cast.

The scent along your skin stirs something inside him, primal and uncontrollable. His mouth waters without warning, saliva pooling thick and heavy under his tongue as his body reacts to you in ways he can’t suppress. He swallows hard, jaw tensing as if trying to restrain himself, but it only makes it worse.

Your scent is everywhere, flooding his senses until his every thought is consumed with an image of you. Every instinct inside him is screaming to take, to taste, to lose himself in you completely, but he doesn’t want to scare you, overwhelm you with his true form.

His breath comes out ragged against your skin, the sound low and trembling like he’s trying to contain something wild inside him. You feel the tremor beneath his skin, the hunger that coils through him like heat rising from the earth. His fingers flex against your hips, his body straining with restraint, every muscle tight and trembling.

When Stack lifts his head, his lips glisten faintly in the dim light, and for a second, you think he’s sweating from the heat growing within the room. But when you focus on his facial features, your eyes notice a shine at the corner of his mouth, then you see a clear substance dripping down his brown skin. “Baby,” you whisper, voice soft but filled with concern, wondering why he’s practically salivating at the mouth. “you droolin’.”

He huffs out a shaky laugh, fingers brushing at the corner of his mouth as if he’s just realizing it. “Oh, shit.” he mutters, shaking his head before looking back at you with that crooked grin that makes your stomach twist in knots.

There’s something in his eyes. Desire, yes, but deeper. Hungrier. Almost feral. Like his very soul is reaching for yours, starving for a connection only you can give, a connection that runs deeper than just loving each other. When he leans in again, his lips barely graze yours, allowing his breath to prickle your skin. “You want some?”

Stack’s always been a freak, pushing boundaries and teasing you until you forgot how to breathe, but this time feels different from all the other filthy acts thats transpired between you. The look in his eyes isn’t playful; it’s hungry in a way that goes beyond the flesh.

His gaze lingers on your lips, his chest rising and falling in shallow bursts, like he’s trying to hold himself together before something deep inside him breaks free.

You bite your lip, breath trembling as you hold his gaze. Something about the way he looks at you makes the world tilt, like gravity itself has shifted and the only thing keeping you grounded is him. Every instinct in your body tells you to pull back, to question the danger that glowing behind his eyes, but you can’t. You’re tangled in his web.

The air between you thickens, charged with something unseen but you can feel it everywhere; on your skin, in your chest, vibrating through the blood in your veins.

Surprisingly, Stack’s never spit in your mouth before, the thought of swapping spit never even crossed your mind. But in this moment, allowing his bodily fluids to enter your mouth has never felt more right.

You nod, assuring and deliberate, surrendering to the pull between you. When Stack receives the green light, a smirk curls along his lips. His hand cusps your jaw, pressing his thumb against your lower lip, coaxing you to open your mouth. Once your lips are parted, Stack’s opens his mouth, lifting his tongue and allowing the pool of his saliva to pass his lips, a thick line being pulled by gravity and into your mouth.

His drool settles on your palette, warm against your tongue. You thought this exchange would feel strange, that you would feel grossed out with his spit in your mouth but it just turns you on even more. Your walls spasm around his shaft, squeezing him in while his saliva travels through your throat.

As Stack’s relentless strokes ripple through you, you can feel the coil tightening inside of you threatening to snap. Feeling Stack’s cock pressing against your g-spot, throbbing inside your warm heat, inching you closer to climbing over the edge into a marvelous high.

Stack can hear your blood coursing through your precious veins, making him salivate at the mouth all over again. The memory of your crimson liquid still lingers on his tongue. The darkened richness of your blood, the warmth and sweetness of it, fueling the fire that’s burning in his lower belly.

The echo of its taste thrums through him like a heartbeat, pulling at the part of him that’s no longer human. His pulse pounds behind his teeth, his body burning with a hunger that has nothing to do with food and everything to do with you.

He cups your chin, his thumb tracing the edge of your jaw before lifting your face to his, exposing the crock of your neck. His eyes darken, pupils swallowing the light, and for a moment you get a glimpse of what being a vampire truly entails, the deeply rooted need for human blood.

When he lowers his head to your neck, you feel the warmth of his breath, then the trembling exhale that tells you he’s fighting his vampire instincts, trying his best not to frighten you but it’s too late for that. Fear hums through you, low and involuntary, and he feels it coursing through your body at a mile a minute.

“Don’t be afraid, baby.” Stack whispers, voice softened but rugged. His thumb traces the curve of your throat, feeling your jugular vein pulsing beneath your flesh, the sound flooding his ears until its all his mind can focus on is the blood flowing through it. “Everything gon’ be alright. I ain’t gonna hurt you. I just—” He swallows hard, feeling a line of drool hang along the corner of his mouth, cascading down his chin. “—just need to taste ya’.”

You can tell he’s trying to convince himself as much as he’s trying to calm you, and the thought makes your chest ache, that even with his raging hybrid instincts, he puts you before it all, making sure you’re comfortable. Even though there’s a part of you that’s scared out of your mind at the sight unraveling before you, the other half is dying to see what comes next.

When Stack leans in closer, the tip of his nose presses your skin, taking in a whiff of your alluring pheromones, helping him relax just a tad. Then, in a gentle manner, he presses his lips to your neck, while still thrusting inside of you at a slow and steady pace, knowing it’ll help keep your mind at ease.

The moment his fangs break skin and the tips of them dig into sections of your flesh, sucking your blood, your whole world stills. A flash of white heat floods through your body, an unearthly connection blooming from the wound outward, like roots threading through soil, traveling from his heart to yours. You feel him in your pussy, your mind, your stomach, your heart, everywhere. His essence is practically digging into yours, binding itself to the very fabric of your soul.

A current passes between you like a flash of lightning, stealing your every breath and twisting your nerves until there nothing but a lump of clay. The bond strikes so suddenly, so deep inside you, that you forget where your body ends and his begins. For a moment, you swear you can feel his pulse echoing in your chest, his thoughts brushing the edge of your mind, and the rising climax of his own orgasm.

It’s said that when a vampire takes what’s called “the little drink”, feeding on someone they love, they plant a mark on you that never fades. A spiritual tether that ties their fates together, no matter the distance or the lifetime.

For Stack, drinking your golden blood is like drinking life itself. Each drop is an ember sliding through his veins, burning away the emptiness that’s haunted him since he first turned, allowing his dark and empty soul to feel whole again.

The world brightens, sounds clearer, colors deeper, your heartbeat a rhythm he could listen to for the rest of eternity and never go tired. He feels drunk on you, not from the blood alone but from the way your spirit folds into his, warm and trusting, like your soul was custom-made to align with him.

For you, it’s overwhelming and transcendent. Your fear dissolves, replaced by warmth so consuming it borders on light. You see flashes in your mind; his memories, the long years he yearned for you, the torture of being under Remmick’s command, and his life within the coven.

The air thickens, every sense heightening until the room tilts and your body feels weightless. It’s like every secret in the universe just opened to you; clarity, color, and the dizzying truth of being alive. The blinding pleasure swells into something almost holy, and yet it frightens you, because you can feel Stack’s presence threading through every nerve.

The pressure of Stack’s bite is sharp, for a moment it’s all you can think about, until Stack’s thrust increase in speed. With your blood dispersing through his body, he can feel a tension growing in his lower half, the ache becoming stronger as its sweet taste satisfied his hunger.

Feeling his long, deep strokes, the way he bullies his cock through your wetness to reach your cervix, makes you cling onto him for dear life, feeling your body becoming overstimulated from the wide range of pleasures from his sex and his bite. “Elias, please…” You mutter, clawing your nails at his back, drawing lines along his skin until your marks are etched into his flesh. You don’t even know what you’re begging for, what your body is asking for, but Stack knows, he always does.

With his fangs still attached to your neck, he can’t verbally response, but thanks to his special abilities, he can use his mind. “Dont worry, baby. I gotchu. Papa gotchu.” His words float around your brain, breaking through the ecstatic fog of “the little drink” and allowing you to hear his voice.

Stack can feel your body’s need for a release, how your only a few thrusts away from creaming around him for a third time tonight. He knows it’s what you want and as your significant other, he isn't about to deny you the pleasure of reaching your moment of ecstasy.

Stack moves his hand down your breast, taking it in his hand and applying pressure to your nipple, twisting it in a way that sends a surge of pleasure through your body, making a moan fly from your mouth. His special touch, the way he handles your body with such detail and care, knowing every position and thing that makes you tick, pushes you closer to cumming.

But, what tips you over the edge is his voice, his demanding tone, when he unlatches from your neck, lifting his head, allowing you to look him in the eye. “Cum for me, baby.” When you look at Stack, taking in his features, you see your own blood smeared on his lips, some caught in his goatee, while his gold tooth and fangs flash you. You’ve never been more attracted to him than you are in this moment.

His piercing gaze, the deeply rooted connection you now share, and his wicked effect on your body, makes you cum the instant the words leave his filthy mouth. Your body tenses, your walls spasming around his shaft, attempting to drain him while your legs begin to twitch. When Stack feels you tightening around him, completely trapping him right at the opening of your womb, he lets out a sharp hiss, not being able to repress his urge to breed you, thanks to his hybrid ways.

When you feel Stack’s tip continually pressing against you, your body trembles until your juices flow from all directions. A piercing cry rips through you as your body becomes overwhelmed, feeling like it’s being ripped in half. Your white cream surrounds the base of Stack’s cock, while your juices splash onto his lower stomach, feeling your walls contract rapidly around him, one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever experienced.

While your moans and cries fill the stuffy room, Stack is right there meeting you in the middle. A loud groan rumbles from his throat, along with a string of curses as he pumps you full of his seed, thick ropes of his cum filling your womb until he empties his large load inside you, so much that’s its leaking out the sides.

Your body is still trembling when the world finally stills. The room feels thick with the scent of him: smoke and musk and something darker, metallic, like the ghost of your own blood. Stack stays inside the quiet a long while, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing hard.

The wildness that burned in him moments ago softens into something almost tender. His thumb traces lazy circles over your hip, grounding you, like he’s trying to remind himself you’re real, that after years of longing for this moment you’re finally underneath him again.

At first, neither of you speak at first. You just listen to his breathing, the faint beat of the blood flowing inside him, and the rhythm of your own pulse slowly steadying. When he finally moves, pulling out of your warmth, it’s only to pull you closer, one hand sliding up your spine until your face is pressed to the curve of his neck. His skin is still hot, the faintest tremor running through him, but his voice with a low, steady rumble when he finally speaks.

“You safe wit’ me.” he murmurs, lips brushing your hair. “I ain’t ever gon’ hurt ya’.” You nod against him, though your body still hums from the aftershock, not just from what he did, but what you felt when he did it. It wasn’t just hunger or pleasure or pain; it was deeper, something that settled in your bones. Like he just planted his roots inside you. Claimed you as his lifetime companion.

Stack exhales slowly, the rise and fall of his chest rocking you in a quiet rhythm. You feel him relax, the tension in his body unwinding until his breathing matches yours. His hand drifts up your waist, fingers wrapping around you as he pulls you against him, cuddling each other while he whispers something too low to catch, maybe a prayer, maybe your name, but either way there’s a warmth in his tone that makes you nuzzle against his chest.

After resting in each others presence for almost an hour, he presses a kiss to your temple, soft and lingering, before pulling back just enough to see your beautiful face.

The look in his eyes makes your chest ache, a mix of tenderness and something close to regret, making you realize whatever he’s about to say isnt going to be something you want to hear. “I gotta go, baby,” he says reluctantly, the words instantly feeling like stones in his heart.

You blink up at him, wrapping your hands around his arm before he can pull away, holding him tightly, hoping he’ll change his mind. “Stay,” you whisper, feeling yourself on the verge of tears at the thought of him disappearing into the night. “Please, Elias. I don’t want you to go.” You just got Stack back, you don’t want him to leave you again, not knowing what’s going on with him or where he is, and having to suffer with being haunted with his memory until he returns.

He shakes his head slowly, brushing his knuckles along your jaw, the disappointment in your eyes making him wish he didn’t have to leave. “Can’t stay. Not right now. But I’ll be back soon.” His eyes search yours, trying his best to keep up a brave face, not wanting your last memory of him to be a sad expression on his face. “You know I keep my word.”

You want to argue, to beg him not to go, but something in his gaze stills your tongue. The weight behind his words tells you this isn’t a choice he’s able to fight. There’s something darker moving beneath the surface, a force older than either of you, one that demands obedience from creatures like him or he’ll have to suffer the consequences.

He glances toward the window where the first faint traces of dawn are beginning to stretch across the horizon, letting him know his time is up. His expression shifts, the faintest flicker of pain shadowing his face as the light brushes the corners of your room.

“If I stay past sunrise,” he murmurs, “it’ll eat at me from the inside out. Take me piece by piece ‘til there’s nothin’ left but ash.” His thumb drags lightly across your lower lip, his touch trembling even though he tries to keep it steady. “And you don’t wanna see me like that, baby. Trust me.”

The memory of his bite still burns on your neck, a dull, throbbing heat that seems to pulse in time with your heartbeat. The bond between you feels alive, tugging at your chest with an ache that grows stronger the farther away he moves.

You can feel his energy even now, the echo of it humming beneath your skin, that supernatural tether he’s tied to your soul. It calls for him, aching for him to stay, but he forces himself to step back, jaw tightening like every inch of distance between you is killing him inside.

“You need to rest,” he says softly, feeling how spent out and tired you are. “Let your body get used to what I done. The bond… it’s fresh. If I stay too long, I’ll take more than I should. Don’t wanna hurt you, not when I finally got you back.”

You can feel the truth of it deep in your bones, the mark he’s left on you thrums with power, your pulse skipping in strange, uneven beats. His presence is overwhelming, a heat that fills every space in your mind and body, and you realize that if he doesn’t leave now, if he lingers any longer, he’ll consume you completely. Not out of cruelty, but out of love that’s too potent, too primal to control.

He leans in one last time, pressing a soft kiss against your lips, giving you a touch of affection to remember him by. “Ain’t nothin’ gon’ keep me from you. I’ll be back ‘fore the moon even think about risin’ again.”

And then within a blink of an eye, he’s gone, slipping into the fading darkness, leaving behind only the echo of his promise and the faint scent of smoke and heat that clings to the air.

—

When you wake up, the first thing you notice is the quiet. No sound of the cicadas outside, no trace of Stack’s voice humming against your ear. Just stillness. Thick, eerie, and heavy stillness.

For a few seconds, your mind drifts somewhere between sleep and waking. The sheets beneath you are cool now, but they smell faintly of Elias: smoke, sweat, and the metallic hint of blood.

The memory of his body pressed against yours lingers so vividly that your pulse stumbles, confused. You can still feel where his hands had been. Still feel the weight of his breath against your skin. You can even still feel the belly bulge that formed when Stack was inside you.

You blink, slow and heavy, trying to shake these strange feelings off. You assume it was just a dream. One of your usual wild and fevered dreams born from too many restless nights without Stack to satisfy your desires. The kind that clings to your skin long after it should’ve faded.

When you glance at the space beside you, you see the pillow is dented, faintly warm, like someone had been lying there not long ago. When you lean over, you can even smell Stack’s signature scent which is impossible since you haven’t seen him in over a decade.

You can’t believe what your mind is trying to convey. At this point you assume you’re just that sleep deprived. You sit up, the sheets falling to your waist. Your nightgown clings to you, wrinkled and slightly damp, a few faint stains marking the fabric. Your fingers curl into the material, and your chest tightens with confusion.

‘It couldn’t have been real’, you think to yourself, in disbelief of what happened. The shift of your legs makes the nightgown stick to your thighs. The fabric is damp, not just with sweat, but something thicker, heavier. When you lift your nightgown, you see your arousal smeared on your inner thighs, and you can feel a liquid till oozing from your womb.

The sheets beneath you correlate with the story painted across your body, rumpled and soiled like you lived through the dream instead of only imagining it.

At this point you don’t know whether to believe your mind or your body. With a thudding heart, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and push yourself to stand despite the shakiness in your legs, the wooden floor cold under your feet. Your reflection in the mirror across the room wavers faintly in the early light, not allowing you to see too much without being face to face.

As you get closer, you almost don’t want to look at your reflection. But curiosity draws you in. When you’re in front of the mirror, and your eyes are settled on your reflection, your eyes widen.

Your lips are swollen, faint bruises blooming across your collarbone, and you can see the puncture holes on your bottom lip from when Stack’s fangs pricked into it. But, those aren’t the markings that startle you, it’s the one on your neck that stops you cold.

When you turn your neck to the right, allowing you to get a better view, you see two deep puncture holes, delicate and red, surrounded by faint reddening where his mouth had been that’s slowly darkening as time passes.

You reach up, breath shallow, and trace his teeth marks with your fingertips, your eyes watching the lines of blood flow down your neck. The skin there is tender, pulsing faintly beneath your touch. When you press a little harder, a shiver runs through your body, making you groan from the feeling.

Running the pads of your fingers the bite, causes the dream to come flooding back. The way he looked at you. The way your souls seemed to twist together until you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began. The warmth, the ache, the sound of him whispering sweet nothings in your ear, while pounding his length inside you until your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

You let out a soft laugh, more breath than sound, shaking your head like it might clear the haze surrounding your mind. At first you thought your brain had conjured him up to soothe the ache within your soul, but seeing all the evidence that a sexual encounter took place, you know that Stack was actually here.

Your fingers linger on the bite a moment longer before they drop to your side, trying to grasp the concept of what happened. You look at yourself in the mirror, a small, secret smile tugging at your lips. You haven’t felt this bright in years.

With Stack’s visit, he’s opened a part of you that’s been hidden for a long time. You don’t know when his next visit will be but whatever it entails, whether it’s him drinking your blood, filling your brain with his hypnotizing words, or making you take his monster cock until his cum spills out of you, you’re more than ready for it.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 — @Yungblud423 @nostlicions @loveabledovee @secretisme4 @pinkkycherrish @bl3ssyn @queenofklonnie22 @Secretlifeofpreshap @bxrbie1 @t-wylia @bendoverboo18 @milesf4vg1rl @secret89sblog @gabbysbl0gg @hoodiepandaninja16 @n-ae-vis @bxrbie1 @t-wylia @Bendoverboo @milesf4vg1rl @li-da-savage @minyara-kun @st4rrdrexm @rose-bliss @sajoi @plan3tch1ld @queenofklonnie22 @3tallions @weirdwhimsicalblackgirl @avatar4eva @d1gitalb4rbie @deexoxomuah @tnychellee @moundbayou @sweet13aby @thecoolestgirleva @whammyyy @Merranerra @mil3sc4tonsguit4r @plan3tch1ld @li-da-savage @cqpidswan