vampire!dex who follows you on your nightly walk, watching every turn you make and every store you turn into

vampire!dex who spends weeks planning the perfect meeting for the two of you, one that will make you fall in love with him instantly

vampire!dex who can smell you from afar and it makes his eyes darken and his whole body stiffen

vampire!dex who will do anything to keep you safe, even pulling strange men from the alleyway and throwing them into dustbins torn apart so nobody obscures your late night walk!

vampire!dex who when you meet for the first time senses something different within you. youre so different to the past victims of his. you won't be a victim. not to him. from the moment you both lay eyes on each other and his hand touches your skin, youre both changed forever

vampire!dex who rushes back to his apartment and searches through his books to find something called the sire bond. something that means not only were you fated to meet, you were fated to be turned and to be his for all eternity.

vampire!dex who ponders if he can ever go near you again. he knows how dangerous and lonely a life of vampirism can be and would never wish it upon someone so gorgeous and full of life like yourself, but he can't deprive himself of a life time with you!!

vampire!dex who tries to keep his distance from you, but fails miserably. the sire bond means the two of you can't really stay away from each other now you've met! you can sense whenever he's nearby, as he can with you.

vampire!dex who stalks you from the rooftop of his apartment building, and is terrified (and simultaneously turned on) when you turn around and your eyes meet his straight away. you knew where he was without even thinking about it. and it drove him insane.

vampire!dex who finally gives in to the sire bond you both share and meets you again, and falls in love with your cheeky smile when you confront him about his watchful eyes.

vampire!dex who can command you to do anything he says, just by looking deeply into your eyes and placing his hands on either side of your face. he tells you to take a deep breath, you do! he says to give him a big smile, you do! he says to sit down while he gets you water, you do!

nsfw vampire!dex headcanons....

vampire!dex who can smell when you're ovulating and he has to physically restrain himself from holding you down and eating you out there and then.

vampire!dex who bites your neck for the first time and hears you moan so loudly he almost cums in his jeans like a teenager there and then. he feels you tense up and try to push him away, but when you surrender your body to him and embrace the feeling, one of his hands slips to your jeans to finger you.

vampire!dex who gets you hooked on the feeling of him feeding from you!!!! because he always pleasures you while he does, you've grown to associate the feeling with euphoria and you basically beg him for it now!

vampire!dex who is so focused on your pleasure that for the first few months of the relationship you have no idea what he likes. all you know is he wants to please you!

vampire!dex who can't help but shake his head when you beg him to turn you like him, so you can be together for an eternity. you get on your knees in front of him and go down on him, watching him lose composure as his hands braid into your hair so hard he pulls clumps out when he lets go.

vampire!dex who is normally so collected when he fucks you, but you rile him up so much that he fucks into you hard, rough and it leaves you bedridden for days and your bed frame collapses under the sheer force of him.

vampire!dex who feeds from you to the point where you black out and your pulse begins to fade, but he feeds you his blood to heal you.

vampire!dex whose eyes go black when you come back around to him, his blood running down your chin and your hands on his arms to keep his blood in your mouth.

vampire!dex who feels like he's going insane when you spin him onto his back and ride him until he cums inside of you, and he cums HARD. with his blood dripping from your chin and down over your tits, the sight drives him insane.

vampire!dex who drives up into you and moans, "yeah, this is what you wanted, angel? you wanted to taste my blood huh pretty girl?" and you nod in response, pathetically whimpering as his thrusts get harder and harder.

vampire!dex whose eyes roll back when you pretend to bite his neck like he does you, and tightens his grip on your hips.

At first, there was nothing strange about the your neighbor across the hall. He was a perfectly normal FBI agent—which is a stretch to say “perfectly normal.” It also doesn't help that the first time y'all crossed paths you were drunk. 

Moon, high in the sky, you had gotten dropped off at your building after a rambunctious night with your friends. It wouldn't have been unusual to spend the night at their place but being a burden was the last of your wants and you had severely underestimated the state of your condition. But, there were plenty of other times you had stumbled through the building. You could do it once again. That confidence wavered once you got a little dizzy getting off the elevator. Something about the pressure, the elevation shift that spun your brain around. You found your door just fine. Getting the key in the lock was another story.

The determination to get inside and into your bed had steadily diminished with each second that passed fumbling with the key. Somehow it wouldn't get in the slot, then it wouldn't turn. Nothing had probed your conscious aside from this goal. Paranoia began to set in, though. Sweat started to glisten across your forehead, beneath your overcoat. What if someone would come up behind you during your struggle? Did you just hear footsteps behind you?

"Are you alright?" asked a low voice from behind. 

You gasped, all concentration broken with the sudden interjection. The set of keys clattered to the ground and you whipped around. 

"So sorry. 'M so sorry," you said, breathless. "The key was so stuck, and I have such a headache. It's not usually this hard to… you know."

The explanation was easy to get out. Attempting to bypass the shock was hard. Even harder was ridding yourself of any embarrassment. The alcoholic haze was all that hovered at the forefront of your mind, muddying the scene and circumstances. As your focus shifted more towards the person you were talking to, the nerves began to twitch again. The hall got even hotter as you focused on the inquirer. 

He was tall and firm. Though he had offered to help, something was amiss. Another motivation or a reluctance hovered beneath. The man wasn't anyone you had seen in your building before, much less in your life. Calling him handsome was an understatement in his slacks and button down. A couple cuts marred his face but they called your concern more for him than whatever it spelled for you. The jacket with 'FBI' written across the back helped lessen your fear. 

"It's alright. Do you want me to get it for you?" he asked, again.

With a small nod, you picked up the keys, a slight miscalculation with how far forward you bent. Your coat covered your backside, but did no favors shielding the expanse of your legs in your sleek, heeled shoes. Your body was loose and awareness of your movements had vanished hours ago. When you placed the keys in his hand, it didn't escape you how large it was. The callouses, how it served as a tough extension of him.

He easily got them in the knob and opened it for you. He took out the keys and pushed open the door ever so slightly before returning them to your palm. While he stood close to where it opened, thankfully he couldn't see inside without any of the lights on. You couldn't remember what it looked like inside, but it most likely wasn't presentable, especially to a handsome stranger.

"Thank you," you said, not moving an inch from where you stood. All you could do was stare up at him, aware of the silence but unsure of what else to say. Finally, you mustered, "I haven’t seen anyone... you... here... before."

He looked to the side, out towards the hall, something amused was attempted to be hidden in the quick movement. "Uh, yeah. I started moving in this evening. I'm Ben Poindexter." He offered his hand to shake.

It was hard to process the fact that you had taken his hand, that it was solid and soft. You got to feel the callouses on certain pads of his fingers or the base of them. His knuckles were sharp but his skin was soft. After an up, then down, you didn't immediately let go.

It took another beat to notice the lack of fluidity of it all. You tried to chuckle it off. "Oh, nice." You give him your name. He ponders it for a moment.

"It's nice to meet you." 

You hoped he meant it. "I would have preferred to be sober, more put together," you huffed. It was so hard not to laugh now. You wanted nothing more than to be out of his gaze, save yourself from whatever you might embarrass yourself with. 

He gave another sway of his head, this one more dismissive. "I don't mind. I'm glad I could help out."

You nodded a bit too much, head somewhat lolling. "Yeah. I don't think sleeping in the hall would be all that comfy."

He hummed. "Probably not. That couch you have seems much nicer."

A heartbeat passed. It reverberated in your throat. What else was he able to see? Hopefully not whatever mess you probably left from getting ready. God, nothing personal or stupid. 

"It is." Stupid.

"Are you aright from here?" 

You swallowed and tried to tame your unruly heart. "Yes. Yeah. Uh, I think it'll be fine. Thank you..." You chewed on his name. It was a full one. "Thank you, Benny. I appreciate it."

He blinked, shoulders rigid. "Yeah. Have a goodnight."

You placed a hand on your door, ready to enter. "Thanks, you too."

Ben headed across the hall to his own cracked apartment. He waited until he heard the click of your lock before doing the same. 

[-+-]

Benny. 

Why the fuck did you call your hot new neighbor a stupid nickname?

Hungover and ashamed was the last thing you had expected to happen when you went out last night. It was supposed to be a fun, possibly flirty get-together with your friends. A game night at one of their apartments with a last minute alcohol run. It bled into the late hours. It was supposed to be a mental reset. Instead you had to have a 'close encounter.' 

God, Ben was too nice. He just moves in and has to deal with a drunk ass neighbor? Much less the one who lives across the hall. Fucking stupid. Thank god you didn't have work that day. Your rest and relaxation were going to have to wait. Now, you needed to make a housewarming gift that doubled as a means for you to save face. 

As you laid in bed, facing the white ceiling, you rummaged through your pounding head for such a specific idea. Would a guy like flowers? With a groan, you decided a shower and some breakfast would be helpful. You picked up your phone and checked the time. 1:15pm. Okay, a shower and lunch, instead. 

[-+-]

A decision had been made. You had decided that flowers would be nice. How were you to know if he had ever gotten flowers in his life? Guys don't usually get flowers. And having plants in your apartment always tends to cheer you up (when you aren't allergic to them). And to help make the place even more cozy, you bought a tin of mango black tea. It was neutral enough to be interesting or at least worth trying. He might even love mangoes! So... it should be a good apology and a good gift. 

You had put the tea tin in a bag with tissue paper and held the glass vase of pastel pink roses, white babies' breath, and some blush pink lilies. It was a rather lush arrangement, but you thought it was pretty and kind of handsome in a way. 

By the time you had cleaned up yourself and the apartment, ate, ran errands, and came home, the evening had begun to creep away. Hopefully he wasn't out or getting ready to turn in. Whatever FBI agents did, you didn't want to assume it was always boring paperwork or target practice. 

A gentle rasp on his door made you hold your breath. Fuck. This was a good thing to do. The apology and the gift. It was great. You vaguely remembered the night before. Your hesitance, your nervousness. It would need to be swallowed down. A guy like that had to have a partner of some kind, anyway. That possibility was enough for you to push the anxiety down. 

You were about to retreat when his door slid open. He stood with it somewhat cracked, leaving no room to peep what was inside. Once he realized it was you, he opened it, a shoulder now braced on the door frame. Ben's hair was damp and his face refreshed. He wore a grey t-shirt and some brown, cotton shorts. It was modest. It was domestic. You blinked.

"Hi." you swallowed. "I wanted to get you something, as a thank you and a welcome. I felt... kind of bad about how we met. Thought it wasn't the most neighborly. I don't do that often," you forced out a breathy laugh. Damn, you were talking too much. 

His hazel eyes were lined with observation. That was something that had slipped you last night. There was an unnerving quality—that was it. Ben had a sort of severe look to him, perhaps a side effect of his career. 

Ben pushed off the doorframe and stepped farther out into the hall. "You didn't have to... I hope it wasn't any trouble to get..." he tried, as he looked at the bag and the flowers. There was visible concern to his countenance. 

"Oh, no. No big deal at all," you reassured. You shifted the flowers in your hands to hand him the bag. "Here, you can open it if you want."

Getting him to open it in front of you was not your original intention. But you didn't want him thinking you spent a ton of money. This was kind, casual. If he opened it in then, you can make sure he actually wanted the tea. If not, you could return it.

Ben gingerly took the glittery silver bag with its white tissue paper in his hands. The ribbon handles fell to the side as he held the bottom with one hand and pulled out the tea tin with the other. His hazel (they were hazel) eyes grazed over the label. 

"Oh wow. That's really nice. I haven't tried anything like that before." He turned the box to the side, reading the ingredients and the notes. "I usually go for coffee. This sounds good."

"I had it a couple times and I like it. Having it hot with a little honey is great, or iced with some agave or simple sugar is great too." You were glad that the tea went over well. Before you could muster something about the flowers Ben had slipped the tea back into the back and began slipping them out of your hands. Nothing escaped his thorough vision. 

"No one has ever bought me flowers before," he said. It was a thought and a statement.

You nodded slowly, understanding, acknowledging. "I figured they would look nice on a counter or a nightstand. I'll sometimes get myself a bouquet whenever I'm down."

He looked up from the flowers to you. Watching, surveying, acknowledging. "I like that. I'll put them on my table. I can look at them while I eat." The gleam in his eyes flickered a bit but you didn't read into it. 

"I love that. I'm so glad you like it all. I just wanted to show up, be friendly," you said, starting to be self-conscious of y'all just standing in the hall alone. You didn't want to overstay your welcome or waste his time. 

"Again," he started, a little rough but reined it in, easing into a softer tone. "I haven't had anyone do this before. I... Yeah, this is pretty." Ben smiled for the first time and your heart skipped a beat It was almost that of a predator. Sly, tight, and ready to pounce. Though, given how little it seemed that he gave them out, you felt warmth more than anything. 

"No problem," you said. "I'll see you later."

Ben was quiet for a moment, then his smile had eased into a relaxed expression. "Yeah. You have a goodnight." He tagged your name on at the end, like it was part of the gift too. 

On your side of the door, hidden and alone in your apartment, you wondered if you should go back on your promise. Maybe you should come home drunk more often if it meant he would be out to help. 

No. No. Joke. Bad idea. 

Ben's reaction to it was better than you had hoped. He seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed it all. You were glad to have made him happy. As you got ready for bed and prepared for work the next morning, you wondered when the last time he had gotten anything like that was. You knew it had been a while for you too. 

[-+-]

A couple weeks went by without any major interactions with Ben. You had heard he was going to be out of town for a bit. But that information was tightly extracted and it had been late at night, so you weren't even sure if Ben himself had told you. Hell, you might have even dreamed it. No, no, he had definitely said it. That was the same night he confirmed that he had tried and enjoyed the tea. 

It had been difficult coming home from work and being curious as to whether or not you would see your curious neighbor. The more pieces you had got from him, the more you wanted to know. Ben was always clean, never had a bad hair day, and never stayed home for long. It seemed like all he did was sleep and work. Those cuts you had seen on his face didn't last long until they healed and were replaced by a black eye. Never was he not wounded in some way, but never did it bother him long. 

While he was gone you had relaxed. There was no peeping or hoping to see if you saw him. One evening, you had gotten off the closing shift. It was particularly draining and you were not looking for him or anyone else. A need to sleep and shower was all that held your thoughts. 

When you got to your door, you unlocked it without a second try. You opened your door and were about to shut it behind you, when something struck your senses. A strong, dry tang, hung in the air. It was unmistakably blood. That dry, metallic and organic scent was hanging about. Your pulse quickened as your breathing got shorter. Why the fuck did you smell blood? And how much could there be if it was that potent?

It was hard to check your thoughts and your breath at the same time. You were so tried and now something as striking as blood in the air was sending you into a panic. Maybe Ben was back? Before you confirmed you were going to knock on his door, something shattered in your apartment.

A scream left your lips as you flung your door open and flipped on the lights. The vase of flowers you had bought yourself a couple days ago had fallen off the coffee table. "What the fuck?" you yelled, incredulous and scared. As you approached the glass, you searched the apartment for any signs of some being in there with you. 

Shadows and your worry mingled to play tricks on your eyes. Surely there wasn't anything there. Your door had been locked. Standing up, away from the vase, you moved to the windows. Those were sealed shut, anyway—a fault of the landlord's renovations or DIY of an old tenant. Yes, no one could have knocked the vase over. Returning to look at the glass, you searched for something unusual. 

Between the wet shards and the pruned flowers, you didn't find anything. You picked up the trash can to put it back in the kitchen. Under the brighter, overhead lights, you see it: a sort of silver slime had coated the broken pieces. With an unsettled tremor, you reached out a hand to inspect a piece. One shard with a large pool of this ooze was brought out. You held it over the sink, watching a sort of shimmer as it caught in the light. Whatever was in those plants, you made a mental note to never buy flowers from that grocery store again. 

You turned on the sink to wash off the silver substance and your hands. Water ran peacefully, rising away everything including you worries. There had been nothing. And with your apartment door open, you knew anyone could hear you pretty clearly enough to not snoop. With one hand you shut off the faucet, the other still holding the glass.

"Are you alright?"

With a tense grip on the glass, you turned towards your door, ready to jab. 

Ben stood in your doorway, his usual intensity and large figure stood firm. He wore his t-shirt and shorts, ready for bed and you were bothering once again. Not only bothering, but ready to shank him with some glass.

"Oh my god," you whimpered. "Ben, I'm sorry. I don't know what happened." You crossed the kitchen, into the adjacent living room where the door and your neighbor stood. "I was coming back from work and I smelled blood and started freaking out. And get this, when I was about to walk in her, my flower vase just fucking shatters! It was so weird. I still don't know how the vase did that."

The entire time you spoke, you had used your hands to annunciate, the shard of glass not leaving your grip. As you came down from your tizzy, you recalled its presence. Now, it was marred by your blood.

"Oh fuck." You looked back at Ben. "I'm sorry, I'm a hot mess tonight. I'm fine, you can leave, I didn't mean to bother, being all loud." Meeting his face, much less his eyes were impossible. At that point, you were holding you hand at a certain angle to ensure blood wouldn't spill over. 

Ben inhaled, sharp and loud. He said your name, low and deep, bringing your focus intently to him. "Would you... mind letting me just look at your hand? That cut could be really deep."

That was the last thing you expected him to say. 

"If you really want to, you can," you ventured, slow and unsure. It wasn't as if you were opposed to him finally coming into your apartment. Plus, if he wanted to help, that was someone who could also give your place a once over in case there was an intruder. "Come in," stepping aside.

With Ben now behind you, you led him back to the kitchen. There was a small first aid kit with antibacterial and bandages you kept in your knife drawer. It wasn't anything fancy and it was all you had. But the most accidents you had were because of the mandolin, cheese grater, or the knives in that drawer. 

You rested your arm over the sink and slowly let go of the glass. It clattered into the silver sink, now tainted red. Blood pooled in your palm before a stream started tricking down your fingers.

"Jeez, I didn't know I gripped it that hard," you laughed, head turning to rest it on your shoulder. There was no way to really hide from Ben, but you had suddenly grown bashful now he was in your apartment. Just the two of you. 

"I really was so freaked out, dude. Like, between that smell and the flowers, and then you appearing, I thought someone was murdered and I was about to be next," you rambled, hand still modestly dripping. 

Your head lifted off your shoulder to look at Ben. "Does it look too bad to you?"

The question died off as you said it. Ben had a distant look, more far gone than you had ever seen before. In the dim light of that side of the counter, farther away from the can light above you and the sink, he was mingling with the shadows. You steadily became aware that this was an FBI agent, a man standing, silent with you. 

Ben watched it drip for a second more than said, "No, it'll be alright. Let's get it cleaned up and go from there."

He moved to stand next to you now. Using the hand soap, he cleaned off his own hands and warmed up the water before ever going near yours. Finally, he reached out his right hand to grab onto yours to bring it under the water. Before he so much as grazed your skin, he hovered his touch above yours, waiting. 

"You're good."

Ben gently grasped your wrist and guided it slowly to the tap. At first it stung. You winced, hand tugging slightly in his grip. He didn't move at all, only his grip slightly loosened.

"It's fine," you relent.

He kept going. Now, he began using both hands to push away blood, letting it mix with the water and flow into the drain. Across your palm there was a short but deep gash. It continued to bleed in a couple places. Ben turned off the tap. With the same hand, he leaned across you to grab a paper towel. He brought it to where he still held your hand and added pressure to the cut. 

As you two waited for the bleeding to subside, the prolonged silence grew deep. Once again, you tried to look him in the eye. Before you made it that far, your gaze landed on his lips. He had bitten them, the top holding the bottom tightly in place. A trickle of his own blood had started to emerge. 

A question was readied by your mind, but your throat closed, refusing to fulfill the command. The intensity of the moment, of the past ten minutes made your head hurt. After nothing but brief moments with Ben, now he was cleaning your bleeding hand. He hadn't been doing a bad job. But now you wondered if he had an issue with blood. 

Another question was readied by your mind and sent to your throat. Instead, Ben spoke.

"Most people call me 'Dex.' Ben is alright if that's what you prefer."

That wasn't what you had expected him to say. 

A laugh couldn't be stifled. "After all this time you tell me I've got your name wrong? Dude. Dex is a cool ass nickname too." You shook your head. "If I was able to move, I'd be hiding my head in my hands. That's so embarrassing."

That winding that had brought his lip to his teeth had almost fully dissipated now that y'all were talking. 

"It isn't a big deal. I just thought I'd mention... offer it. I've had plenty of nicknames. Benny was a new one, though."

You finally were able to look him in the eyes. He was smiling. Small, but enough to touch his eyes. "How have you gotten 'Dex' before 'Benny'? We live in New York!"

That really earned you a laugh. A good, rough laugh. A laugh you wanted recorded just for you to listen to on a rainy day. Jesus Christ.

"You make a good point," he conceded. "You have any nicknames?"

How his shell had managed to have been cracked this much, was beyond you. Perhaps he was just as swayed by the domesticity as you. Perhaps your own laugh, your own quirks had been just as appealing. 

"There were a couple from my family, but nothing major.”

Dex nods. His focus returns to your hand. The bleeding has stopped and now you to were merely holding hands. It was wrong to saw the moment was tender. His grip around your wrist was light but intentional. Blood from his bit lips were licked away with a ginger offhandedness. Slow, his fingers uncurled. 

“You can cover it if you want, but band-aids might be hard to get on there,” Dex said. 

You nodded, focus leading around the spattered cuts across your palm and base of your thumb, index and middle fingers. Some were more shallow than others. Within your chest, your heart had started to relax. Its beat still resounded through your lungs, into your throat. Breath was becoming easier to obtain. After clenching your hand a couple times, you turned around, leaning the base of your spine against the sink. A mixture of moon and city lights with a pepper from the hall lit your apartment. It was sparse and a sharp divide of blue and yellow. Dex had posed straight, not touching anything, not sure exactly what to do next. His eyes had flicked from the darker parts of the living room back to you as you had moved. 

“Do you want help cleaning up the vase?” he asked. 

A small smile spread across your face, a brief exhale with a tinge of your voice laced on it left you. The movement soft and dismissive, with a nudge of playfulness at Dex’s offer. “No, it’s okay. I’m sure my swinging the door open jolted the table or something. I think the vase was close to the edge of the table anyway.” You tilted your head up, hands poised behind you, lightly grasping the sink’s ledge. “This is just so stupid. We always meet in some mess.”

Dex’s head tilted. That ghost of grin tugged on his lips. It carved his hard-set face so elegantly. “Seriously, it’s no trouble at all. You worry too much.” The words rang a little hollow, but you relented. It wasn’t that deep—more embarrassing than anything else. You hadn’t been this smitten in a long time. Dex’s close proximity between y’all’s doors had seemed rigid enough. Now he was a mere two feet away in the dim lighting. 

Your head dropped and you gave a small shake of relinquishing. “Sure, I may as well let you if you’re already here and offering.”

It was quick work between the two of you. Doing it by yourself would’ve been easy, but the chances of getting spooked by a stray leaf or missing water later and stepping in it, or a piece of glass was leagues from being enjoyable. With Dex’s extra set of eyes you could make sure you didn’t get into a more ridiculous situation, they were becoming more frequent. The initial drunk-meet had sullied your idea of what he must think. His polite willingness could be pity or a natural obligation developed by his job. You noted all of this as you soaked up water and tossed the dripping paper towels. 

Dex had been given a broom and dust pan while you rounded up as many flowers as you could and wrapped them up. Instead of replacing the vase, you tied the flowers together and laid them on the table. Returned to your crouch, you finished soaking up the water.

“What are you going to do with them?”

“I always feel bad just throwing the flowers out, so I dry them out. A couple I’ve given to coworkers. There’s a few in my bedroom on display. These I might use in a journal. Like, pressing the petals and gluing them in or something.”

Dex mused the answer as he propped the broom up on a wall. “That’s nice. I wish I had thought about that before letting go of the ones you gave me.”

As you put your small trash can back under the sink in its cabinet, you washed your hands. Dex hadn’t mentioned that slime and neither were you. But you weren’t going to just let it fester on your hands, whatever it was. 

“Is that a trick to get you more flowers?” You questioned. 

Dex turned his head away, hiding his full expression. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah right, and you didn’t have to do this.”

Although Dex might not have always voiced his response, his head tilts, shakes, shaky breaths all gave something away. His little scoff was enough to guarantee that he would get another bouquet after you got paid. 

“I haven’t seen any signs of a break in,” he changed topics. “Do you want me to check the rest of the rooms out, in case?”

Your shoulders slumped. “If someone decided to target my apartment for a break in when a fucking FBI agent lives across the street, they didn’t do their own profiling very well. Besides…” you moved towards your purse still laying by the front door, and flashed your small piece, “I know how to fire a warning shot.”

You were two for two on getting Dex to fully laughed. “A P365? I hope you have a license, or I really need to search the place.” 

“It was a family requirement when I moved states. Gave them piece of mind.”

Dex sobered, “Smart. You can’t ever be too careful.”

You laid your purse on the counter behind Dex. It was one of those counters to block off the kitchen, but had a small window to still be part of the space. “You’re telling me,” you laughed gesturing around you. “I really think it was a freak accident, but I appreciate you checking in. And cleaning up. Seriously.” As you spoke, you leaned forward, watching Dex through the pass-through. 

A palpable emotion charged between the two of you. The light from the hall grew less significant. Dex was shrouded in the blue shadows of the rest of the space, back turned inside rather than out. Neither of you bothered to close the door; it was the least of your concerns. 

So many different things could be said, more thank you’s more dismisses, pleasantries that didn’t quite grasp at the real meaning. It wasn’t sexual, though you wouldn't have been opposed to seeing more of his body. An air of power, the unsaid, had gripped the evening. Shock was entirely replaced by this unknown curiosity—true curiosity more than anything else. You had always had an odd feeling about your neighbor. He had appeared twice when you needed. He accepted your gift, left, showed up with bruises. Now he was your intruder alert. He has been there but your advances were more passive, not as intense. Except for then, watching each other between the pass-through. 

Dex’s eyes watched nothing other than your face, searching for an explanation. The tip of his tongue inched out of his mouth, just barely licking his lips. He did his best not to show his teeth, not making a scene of the gesture. It was a small habit, a tell. 

“Have a goodnight. Come get me if you need anything.” Dex spoke like he was possessed. He shut the door on his way out. The quiet click of the knob was dull on your ears. What just happened?

you meet dex in a bar and are absolutely enamoured by him. you're supposed to be out with your friends tonight, singing, dancing, drinking but as soon as he laid his eyes on you and introduced himself you were done for.

your friends kept coming over to you while you sat at the bar with him, but you couldn't pry yourself away from him. everything about him drew you closer to him. by the end of the night you were sat in his lap with arms around his neck as you whispered sweet nothings to each other and laughed about nothing.

you left the bar before the sun could rise, and he told you he had to go get some rest before work. your heart shattered when you thought he was going to walk away from you and that was the last time you would ever see the handsome stranger. but when he turned back and planted his lips against yours, pulling you in closer to him with a hand on the back of your head, you whimpered into his mouth. your arms wrapped around his neck to close any gap between you and entangled hands in his hair made you feel insane and light headed. the kiss made you swoon and your knees buckle beneath you, especially when you felt him moan into you and bite your bottom lip so good it drew blood. upon tasting the copper liquid, dex instantly pulled away from you and allowed you both to catch your breath. he lifted his fingers to your bottom lip and wiped the blood from your face, he was trying his hardest to not swoon over you instantly. he put a hand in his pocket and pulled a card with his number on it before placing it into your hands and kissing your head, then leaving the scene as if he had never been there.

days passed since you last saw him, and he was all you could think about. you caught up with your friends and told them all about how you couldn’t stop dreaming of the older stranger from the bar. they laughed at your confession and said you were whipped, asking why you hadn’t called him since he gave you his number. the truth was you were too nervous to call him! how could you confidently call him after moaning int his mouth from just a kiss?

everyone warned you to be careful with him. you didn’t listen. you never did.

one night you were walking home from work in the dark when you began to feel anxiety creep up within you. your apartment was a good twenty minute walk from your workplace, and normally it never bothered you walking home alone in the dark. But tonight was different. fog misted the streets of New York and police sirens echoed through the air. your heart raced. you kept looking over your shoulder as you walked, even speeding up when you heard rustling from behind trash cans and loud yells from afar. you screamed when you walked into something hard in front of you, hands shaking as you fell backwards but was stopped from hitting the floor by the strange man in front of you. you anxiously opened your eyes (expecting to see someone terrifying) but was greeted by the sexy stranger from the bar. your heart skipped a beat as he steadied you upright and kept his arms around your waist.

“woah hey, are you alright? what’re you running for?”

“I thought i was being followed…I had no idea-”

“breathe.” He commanded and you instantly felt relaxed. you weren’t sure how exactly he had such power over you after one meeting, but the deep breaths calmed you down as his hands held onto yours. “do you want me to walk you home?”

“oh you don’t have to do that.” you said, gazing up into his darkened eyes. “‘M fine i can get myself home. my apartment is just around the corner.”

“let me make sure you get home safe.”

You froze at his forward nature. you hadn't seen each other in days! but your body betrayed you as you nodded in response. “would that be okay?”

"of course, angel."

dex wrapped an arm around your shoulders whilst you led him back to your apartment. your mind ran wild with doubts in relation to how he commanded and calmed you down. it made your mind race and you couldn't help but relax when he told you to. when his arms touched yours and you felt his warmth radiate onto you.

when you arrived back at your apartment, you calmed as you stepped through the front door and dropped your bag down by your feet. you turned back around to see dex still standing at the door awaiting your invite into your home.

"what're you standing there for?"

"bein' a gentleman." he smirked, leaning against the doorframe and flexing his large biceps that made your eyes go wide.

"come on in, dex." you grinned and grabbed him by his hand before pulling him into your apartment. "thank you for walking me home, can I get you a drink or anything?"

dex paused.

there was no way you were onto him.

there was no way you knew that he could hear your pulse from across the room. that he could smell your blood inside of your body and it was making him twitch. all he wanted to do was pounce across the room and plunge his teeth into your neck. for your blood to run through his throat. his eyes darkened at the mere thought of your body in his hands, under his control.

"dex?"

"just a water...please." he coughed, rubbing his eyes. "sorry im tired, its been a long day."

"I'm sorry to hear that!" you handed him a cold bottle of water from your fridge and sat down on the couch beside him. "you don't have to stay, you can take your water if you're tired."

"and miss you explaining why you never called me?"

you gulped as he moved closer to you on the couch, making you feel nervous. "I didnt think you would care."

"of course I care, angel. you think I would wipe the blood from your lips if I didn't?" he grinned and closed the gap between the two of you, hands on the back of your neck. "you're gorgeous, and the fact that you never called me when all I have done is think about you hurt my feelings pretty girl."

"you're all ive been able to think about." you confessed before you could even realise the words have left your mouth. "I uh don't know why I told you that." dex laughed at your confession. "but it is true, you're all ive been able to think about. been daydreaming about you kissing me again."

he smirked when you absentmindedly moved closer to him, leaning into his embrace as your eyes dropped to his lips. you followed his lead and kissed him lightly at first - knowing that you needed to ease into it. dex was smirking at your hesitation, you were scared to fully give yourself over to him. the alcohol in the bar had spurred you on to be so confident the other night, when you were the one who initiated the kiss and basically begged for him to stay with your eyes.

dex lifted you onto his lap effortlessly, as if you were nothing, and attached his lips to your neck. he felt himself stiffen when his lips grazed over your pulse point. your heart pounded blood through your body and he couldn't help the moan that escaped him at the feeling of your vein pulsing underneath his lips. his fangs bared without him having any control over them and held them so close to your skin.

just a taste, dex thought, just one little taste.

you were so lost in the way his hands roamed your back and undid your bra that you didn't notice that he had stopped kissing you. "dex?"

"just a little taste, sweetheart, promise it'll feel so good for you." your eyes looked down at the man beneath you and widened when you saw the prominent fangs sticking out. "just a taste sweet girl."

"d-dex, no."

- vampire!dex who stumbles home one night after patrol, covered head to toe in blood, barely breathing and his skin so pale it’s nearly grey

he drags himself through your window and looks over at you who’s falling asleep in bed in his shirt. he’s absolutely mesmerised and the sight almost knocks the exhaustion out of him.

you hear a loud bang and shoot up in bed, seeing dex knelt over on the floor wheezing in pain. you rush over to him and sit beside him, hands brushing his wet hair from his face. he’s drenched in blood. it’s all over his body. covering his neck.

you don’t even know how much of it is his. the perks of him being a vampire means he can self heal pretty quickly. but from his lifeless looking form you’re highly doubting that he healed himself.

“‘m home, angel.” he muttered. he was physically weak. his head was only being held up by your hand on his chin to scan him for injuries.

“dex you look terrible. is this all yours?”

“only a bit…a lot. just need rest, sweetheart. take a couple of days.”

you know how he’s looking at your neck that he can hear the blood pumping through your body. the sound of it echoing through his ears that his eyes turn red with bloodlust. you know just one little drink from you can heal him.

but dex is so caring and cautious with you.

He’s terrified to drink from you incase it hurts you too bad. or he loses control and can’t stop himself. dex has torn through the borough of Brooklyn numerous times and has somehow managed to evade any news outlets or cops picking him up.

he drinks when he has to. he won’t do anything more than that. one sip every so often from a blood bag he’s stolen from the hospital.

but as you’re staring back at his eyes, noticing the ways in which his fangs become prominent and you’re so distracted by the bloodlust in his eyes, you want nothing more than to help him. to give yourself to him, properly.

not just watching him take that one sip from a blood bag. he wouldn’t ever tell you but it’s so much better straight from the source!

dex leans in closer as you move your hair from your neck to allow him to gain better access to your veins.

“‘s okay, dex. just a taste.”

“don’t want to hurt you angel.”

“you can’t, dex. I trust you.” you nodded and placed a hand on the back of his head to run your hands through his hair. “let me help you.”

“just a taste. promise, sweetheart.” he whispered.

the wait was agonisingly slow.

dex knew how wrong this was. he knew how much this would hurt you, especially if he couldn’t keep it under wraps. how much that he would never forgive himself if he drove you to tears.

but as he sit almost lifeless, slumped over and only being held up by you, he knew it was right and you were only doing it because you hated to see him in pain.

he places a soft kiss to your neck before he drinks from you. almost as a thank you for the sacrifice you’re about to make for him. he’s told you how serious drinking from a partner is and all he wants to know is that you understand the things that come with it.

it’s his fangs you feel first.

they’re sharp, uncomfortable. something you couldn’t truly describe. you feel the wound open underneath his tongue as he starts to drink from you.

your head gets woozy fast. you feel dizzy, out of sorts.

but the more he drinks, the more lightheaded you get.

the better he becomes.

you feel him straighten his back as he begins to regain complete composure over himself. his large hands slide around your frame. one hand on the other side of your neck and the other knitted in your hair tilting your head back for a better angle. he pulls you in tighter.

he needs this.

his head screams for him to stop. But his heart is in it. he’s never felt this close to you before. he has your life between the scraping of his fangs on your pulse. one wrong move and you’d be torn from this world. the fact that you’re allowing him to do something so vulnerable, so intimate, because he’s weakened truly proves everything he ever thought about you was right.

he feels you almost surrender to him.

you become less stiff, less scared of the feeling. if anything you allow yourself to enjoy it which is what he was worried about. that you’d enjoy this as much as he did. your whimpers flood his senses as he licks the blood from your neck and continues.

one last taste.

that’s what he tells himself.

but when you moan his name and pull his hair?

oh god forbid.

he brings you into his lap and continues to drink from you until his senses are overwhelmed with you. until all he can think about is you and your all consuming presence. the way you’re almost writhing in his arms. dex is moaning into your neck. he feels like a teenager all over again. he’s enjoying this so much that he’s about to cum in his pants at the way you’re reacting to this.

dex pulls away when he hears your pulse begin to fade and grow weaker. the way it slows down scares him and he instantly pulls away to examine you. the way your eyes are half lidded and you can’t even hold yourself up anymore. the way your fingers are barely clutching onto his hair now.

he bites his wrist and instantly lifts it to your lips.

his blood will heal you. you just have to be careful.

you open your mouth cautiously and take a scared sip. dex can feel your nervousness at the way your lips finally wrap around his wrist after a few seconds. you’ve finally gotten used to that copper taste. your hands lift up to his wrist to hold it in place while his other hand brushes your hair back with a grin.

you look so beautiful like this.

“that’s it, attagirl.”