Vampire!James Potter x Fem Reader.
warnings: explicit content (not really smut but+18. MDNI). blood drinking. intox.
words: 1.1k
notes: this version of vampire is from Shadowhunters where the vampires' saliva acts as a muscle relaxant and euphoric, dulls the pain and may even make the experience pleasurable for the victim.
You were halfway through turning back toward the bar when a guy stepped into your line of sight. He leaned in slightly over the heavy thump of the music to make himself heard.
"Hey," he said, offering a quick wave. "I'm James Potter."
He waited for a beat, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners as if he expected you to either laugh or immediately know what you were in for.
"I've been trying to catch your eye for ten minutes," he added, shouting just enough to cut through the track, "but you looked like you were plotting a murder."
The transition from the blinding strobe lights and sticky floors to the dark alley happened in a blur, your back hitting the brick wall before you even registered the shift in space.
James was right there with you, pressing in close so there wasn't space left between your bodies. One of his hands slid around your waist, his fingers pressing into your hips and pulling you flush against him, while the other tangled into your hair, tilting your head back to give him better access.
You gasped, and he took immediate advantage, his tongue sliding past your lips to stroke and tangle with yours. The heat between you spiked instantly. His touch grew bolder, his palm sliding up from your hip to cup your breast, his thumb brushing against the underside of your boob before slipping beneath the hem of your shirt. His fingertips burned against your bare skin, tracing the line of your spine.
You gripped the fabric of his jacket, pulling him tighter, needing more of the friction as his hips pressed hard and demanding against yours. James' grip on your waist tightened, anchoring you as he pulled you a little off the ground.
"This is not going to hurt, doll, I promise," he murmured against the sensitive skin just below your jawline.
He shifted slightly, pushing his hair back with one hand before reaching up to push his glasses up over his nose bridge.
In a fraction of a second, the playful warmth vanished, before you could say something, his head dipped. You felt the sharp graze of his teeth against your pulse point, and then, pain.
It was blinding, hot, and electric, tearing through your nervous system as his fangs punctured the delicate skin of your neck. A breathless gasp ripped from your throat, your fingers instantly flying up to fist in the thick fabric of his jacket, ready to shove him away, ready to turn and run for your life.
"Run." The thought flashed through your mind. "His fangs are going to tear my skin apart if…"
And then, the pain vanished as quickly as it came, wiped out by a sudden, heavy wave of absolute warmth. It was like being flooded by a narcotic, numbing every nerve and melting your bones from the inside out.
Your mind fogged over instantly, thoughts dissolved into a haze of pleasure. The panic in your chest evaporated, replaced by euphoria that made your eyelids droop. You tried to anchor yourself to reality, but your fingers relaxed their grip on his jacket, sliding down his chest.
James let out a satisfied hum that rumbled straight from his chest into yours, tasting you deeper. The venom blooming through your veins acted like a lock and key, turning your terror into surrender. You tilted your head, offering him more, completely lost in the intoxicating fog of the bite.
The venom blurred the edges of the alley until the rest of the world simply ceased to exist. Yet, even as the world narrowed down entirely to the press of his fangs, his hands refused to stay still.
His fingers slid down your spine, mapping the tremor in your muscles before sweeping back up to cup the back of your neck.
When your voice finally broke the thick, quiet air of the alley, it was nothing more than a broken sigh.
"Don't stop..." the words barely audible, laced with a helpless plea for him to never let this feeling end.
Against the column of your throat, you felt him smile. He had no intention of stopping, if anything, the surrender in your voice only sharpened his hunger, his grip tightened around your waist as he drank.
The heavy fog from his bite didn't just numb the pain, it numbed everything, wrapping a thick, warm blanket around your consciousness until the frantic beating of your heart slowed.
You didn't feel the dangerous drag of blood loss pulling the warmth from your limbs. You didn't register the way your weight completely abandoned your legs, leaving you entirely dependent on his arms to keep you from slumping against the pavement. To you, it just felt like sinking into the deepest sleep of your life.
James noticed the exact second your body went completely slack in his hold.
With a reluctant sigh, he lifted his head from your neck, his lips slipping free of your skin with a wet sound. A single drop of blood traced the corner of his mouth. He adjusted his glasses again, peering down at you with glowing, dilated eyes as your chin dropped limply against your chest, completely out cold in his arms.
"Careful, doll," he murmured softly into the quiet alley, a fond smile touching his lips as he easily shifted your unconscious body, pulling you flush against his chest.
Sunlight streamed harshly across your face, pulling you upward through layers of heavy, sluggish sleep. Your eyelids flicked open, and for a long moment, your brain refused to connect the dots.
You were staring up at your ceiling, tangled in the sheets of your bed.
Panic spiked, shooting adrenaline through your veins. You bolted upright, clutching the blanket to your chest, your heart hammering against your ribs. You looked down, you were still wearing the same outfit you wore at the club last night.
Did you hallucinate the whole thing?
Your mind raced, frantically piecing together the memories of the night before. The flashing lights, the crowded bar, the stranger who introduced himself as James Potter. It felt entirely too vivid, too painfully real to be a figment of your imagination, the heat of his hands, the texture of the brick wall against your back, the intoxicating rush of his fangs sinking into your neck.
Or did someone slip something into your drink?
That would explain the sudden, dizzying fog, the way your knees turned to jelly, the surreal, drug-like euphoria that melted your common sense away. People got drugged in clubs all the time; it was a terrifyingly common reality.
Or... did you just drink way too much?
Maybe you blacked out from a dangerous combination of cheap alcohol and exhaustion, letting your overactive imagination run completely wild while you stumbled home on autopilot, somehow managing to get yourself into bed.
You reached up with a trembling hand, fingers brushing nervously against the skin of your neck, expecting to find nothing there at all. But as your fingertips pressed against your pulse point, you froze, there, just beneath your jaw, were two faint tender marks.
