#vampire!sylus

the fog was thick enough to taste. it curled around the iron fences like smoke, softening the gleam of the moonlight until everything looked drowned in silver. you moved quietly through it all, a shadow among shadows, ragged boots barely making a sound on the dew-slick grass.

everyone in town whispered about this place. the old qin estate. cursed, they said. haunted, they promised. the perfect hiding place for jewelries no one dared to claim.

you smirked at that.

bad omens were for people with the luxury of fear.

the iron fence bit into your calloused palms as you climbed, the metal slick with frost. soon, your boots hit the cracked ground on the other side with a muted thud.

no dogs. no guards. only the silence of a place the world had already decided to forget.

you crossed the overgrown garden, weeds curling around cracked marble statues. the air smelled faintly of rot and rosewater — the scent of a home that once pretended at elegance.

“disgusting aristocrats.” you cursed to yourself, increasing the pace of your steps to traverse the gardens faster.

when you reached an adjacent servant’s door, hidden carefully behind thick bushes and age-stained columns, the rusted lock yielded beneath your pick in less than a minute. a soft click, and the old hinges groaned as you successfully slipped inside the cursed manor.

the darkness breathed around you.

every sound echoed too clearly — the crunch of your boots against piled dust, the steady thud of your heart against your ribs.

you’ve entered through the old pantry, now emptied by hungry rats and other lost animals looking for food. plates and mugs, tables and stools, all were powdered in dust, victims of time and ignorance, preserved in a moment all too distant from the present.

“hasn’t been touched in a long time, huh?”

curious as always, you dipped one bare finger into a bowl, scooping the thick layer of dust and shaking it off to inspect the porcelain. the pattern was expensive and intricate, layered with shiny metals that would definitely catch the eye of a merchant back in town.

if there are no jewels, a few plates will do.

the air was colder in the main corridor — not the chill of neglect, but something older, heavier.

candles, long melted into puddles, dotted the halls. faded portraits watched from their frames: pale faces, red mouths, shimmering eyes painted with such uncanny precision they seemed to follow your every step.

you ignored them. you always did.

aristocrats would never look at the poor. so at least now, in death, you could reciprocate their behavior — hold your head high, ignore their insistent gazes, pretend they don’t exist.

one abandoned candle stood proudly taller than the other, calling your name and asking to assist in your search. so, pulling out a lighter you’ve pocketed from a clueless traveler, you gave the old wick life to illuminate your way around the estate.

with your new addition in your dominant hand, you went up the staircase, boots brushing against carpets that had once been red. now, brown with dust and time. your heartbeat was steady — practiced — lulled by the certainty that you were alone and in control.

but if you’d paused long enough to listen, you might have noticed another pair of footsteps twitching across the old floorboards. slow. inhuman.

he had awoken the moment you touched the fence.

sylus’s eyes opened in the dark, bloody red pupils swallowing what little light seeped through the cracks of his coffin. the air had shifted — fragrant now with mortal blood.

fresh. defiant.

he hadn’t tasted such a scent in years.

he rose without a sound, the centuries of stillness melting from his body in seconds. shadows curled around him as he moved, parting to let him pass through the ruined mansion to get to you.

and oh, he found you so easily.

through the veil of dust and moonlight, he watched as you prowled through the manor, clever little hands rifling through cluttered drawers, your breath ghosting white in the cold air.

he could hear every heartbeat, every scrape of your sleeve, every curse, every swallow when the silence grew too heavy.

how long had it been since a mortal dared come this far?

sylus lingered at the edge of your vision — a shape that never quite solidified, a whisper that vanished when you turned. his hunger hummed low and steady, palpable in the air, but he did not move closer.

not yet.

he preferred to watch. to let you think yourself brave.

you were quite amusing, really.

going up another level, peering in closer and closer to his own chambers, your dirty hand brushed against a cracked hallway mirror. the dust cleared just enough for your reflection to flicker back — tired, nervous, haloed by the faint glow of the dying candlelight.

you didn’t see him behind you in the shadows. not really. just the hint of movement. a suggestion. a breath too close to your ear that could have been the wind.

a flicker of ruby-like shimmers that burnt too strong into your skin.

“ghosts are not real, ghosts are not real, ghosts are not–” you chanted like a mantra between deep breaths, trying to regulate your beating heart and your too-active of an imagination.

you couldn’t go back now, not like this — defeated, empty-handed, ridiculed by invented specters.

so you went on, passing the fractured mirror. ignoring the looming presence of the predator.

sylus did not strike — the thrill of watching was too exquisite.

he lingered in the shadows, unseen, tracking your careful steps as you crept through the corridor. his eyes, red as spilled blood, followed the small flame of your candle as it painted trembling light across the peeling walls.

the manor had not known a heartbeat in centuries, and now it pulsed with yours.

it excited him.

you started acting more cautious, suspicion creeping into your heart. you checked corners, pressed your ear to doors, measured each creak of the floorboards like an experienced thief. just in case someone was here with you, also planning to steal a handful of jewels and silver and exchange them for a life of comfort.

at least that was the only credible reason your feeble mind could muster up to justify the presence of another.

ghosts are not real, ghosts are not–

sylus admired that. the way you held your breath before turning a handle; the way your fingers hovered over a silver candelabrum before deciding it was too heavy to take. you moved like someone who understood risk, but not danger.

not the kind that waited, patient and ancient, in the dark.

not him.

when your weak candle flickered harshly, the silence pressed closer.

a chill kissed the back of your neck — faint, but sharp enough to make you shiver in your boots and glance behind. but there was nothing. only shadows stretching long and thin across the hallway.

sylus smirked at your adorable reaction, sharp fangs peering from behind his lips and shining faintly in the darkness. he was close enough now to hear the delicious flutter of your pulse.

your steps quickened, but he matched them — silent, gliding. you turned down another corridor, and for a moment he let you think you’d shaken whatever phantom haunted the halls.

then a whisper of movement brushed past your ear — colder than air, softer than breath.

the flame of your candle trembled again, threatening to die in a few pulses.

and… it bent towards him. recognizing him before you even saw his face.

a breath grazed your neck — chilly, yet not spectral — and your whole body went taut. you turned too fast, candlelight shaking, but saw only the dust stirring in your wake.

no one stood behind you. no one should.

and yet… you felt him.

fingers, invisible but deliberate, traced the air an inch from your throat, brushing close enough that your skin prickled in its wake. a slow, deliberate caress against the curve of your waist, the faintest tug at the worn-out hem of your blouse.

it wasn’t enough to prove he was real — just enough to make you tremble with the possibility.

“still you wander.” came a voice like silk drawn over glass. low, amused, hungry.

you spun, but the voice seemed to melt back into the walls, echoing from nowhere and everywhere.

“just the wind… just the wind…” you stumbled forward, clutching the candle, whispering under your breath.

sylus watched you through the half-light, every frantic breath a symphony, every heartbeat a lure. he wanted to see how far you would go when the darkness began to consume you whole.

so he followed you, guiding, shaping your path — the gentle touch at your elbow that turned you left instead of right, the cool brush of his hand that nudged open a particular door.

his mother’s room.

when you crossed the threshold, the air changed. softer. sadder. the moonlight poured through the torn drapes, laying pale ribbons across velvet and dust. the candle guttered out, but you did not notice; the silver glow was enough for your mortal eyes.

you started searching because it was easier than admitting you were afraid. your hands — small, dirty, desperate — opened drawers, lifted silks, scattered combs and trinkets. and when your fingers closed around a heavy and intricate string of silver, your fear cracked into laughter.

“ha, ha, ha–”

jewelries. real ones. cool and bright and beautiful against your ruined hands.

“ha, ha, finally!”

you laughed again, wild and giddy, and inattentively slipped the necklace over your neck. then a bracelet, a ring. they looked absurd against your ragged sleeves — a parody of wealth — but for once you felt radiant.

alive.

sylus leaned in the doorway, unseen, his eyes glowing faintly red in the moonlight. his lips curved — not in cruelty, but fascination.

a mortal, daring to adorn herself in the relics of the dead.

how divine.

he drifted closer, his presence no longer shy. the air around you cooled as he came near; his breath ghosted over your shoulder, his hand almost — almost — settling at your waist. he let you believe it was your choice to stand so still, to tilt your head slightly as if you’d admire the silver around your neck.

“a thief playing at nobility… how charming.” he murmured, soft and teasing, the baritone of his voice fully hitting your ears for the first time.

you froze, jewels clinking faintly against your throat, suddenly drooping heavier against your dirty skin.

he was behind you now, completely, yet his reflection absented in the vanity mirror. you only saw him from the corner of your eyes — tall, refined, red eyes catching moonlight like blood in a chalice.

a man was here with you. caught you in the act.

you gulped.

one gloved finger brushed your neck, tracing the necklace you’d stolen. the gesture was languid, reverent, dangerous.

you gulped again.

“i–”

“you wear them well.” sylus breathed, voice dipping low, amused, a mixture of teasing and sincerity. “my mother would have adored you.”

the words coiled through the air like smoke… intoxicating, dizzying. his thumb found the flutter of your pulse, lingering there, and you realized — too late — that you were trembling not from fear, but from how close he was.

mother?

the predator smiled once more at the fear of his prey.

shit, shit, was this a trap for thieves from the beginning?

you stumbled backwards, crashing into his toned chest, the necklace clutched in your fist like an old and dried loaf of bread you found on the streets.

“i'm sorry– i'll put them back– i was just–”

your voice cracked with fear and faux ignorance, half wishing to elbow the strange man and ran away with the goods, half wishing to solve it all peacefully. your hands moved to unclasp the chain, fingers fumbling against the cold locket to drag on the interaction.

“oh, no, no, no, sweetheart.”

his hand snapped out, not with force, but with a sudden, unyielding firmness. you gasped as he pinned your wrists behind your neck, ripping them away from the chain. his grip, like iron beneath the velvet glove, kept you still.

“do not.” he growled heavier, the amused tone evaporating into a venomous chill. “my mother wanted her heir's wife to wear them. she wanted to see them adorn someone worthy.”

his red gaze scorched you, one orb more luminous than the other, traveling from the jewels to your blown-out eyes.

 “and you... you look so beautiful in them. like they were crafted for your thieving neck.”

your heart hammered, not just in fear, but in a peculiar, deep-seated dread. fuck, this strange man knew what you were and what your business was.

unable to face him due to his harsh grasp, your eyes flicked to the dusty vanity mirror leaning against the wall. you saw yourself — wilting, terrified, dressed in spoils and ornated with expensive jewelry.

but you did not see him. no reflection. no shadow.

just your own wide, horrified eyes staring back.

“w-what are you?” you whispered, the question torn from you. “why are you here? in this... abandoned place?”

he couldn’t possibly be a thief, putting on an act to take your loot. not with the way he was carrying himself.

not with the lack of reflection.

sylus tilted his head, a slow, predatory arch. he released your wrists, only to trail his gloved hand up your arm, over your shoulder, until his palm rested against the side of your neck. his thumb tipped your chin up towards him, forcing your head to turn behind and your gaze to meet his.

and now you fully saw him: pale skin, lifeless and devoid of any colour, matching a silvery mane. piercing red eyes, gleaming like freshly polished rubies in the shiny glaze of the moonlight. soft yet bruising lips, framing a mouth with a tad too angular set of teeth.

this man was a noble. a hauntingly beautiful one.

“i am the last son of qin. and this is not an abandoned manor.” he hissed, the words a poisoned lullaby. “it is my estate. my tomb. my preserve.”

and he leaned in, fast and unexpected, his nose brushing the column of your throat. you felt him inhale, long and deep, a gesture which made goosebumps bloom across your skin.

“wha­…”

“your smell…” he murmured, ignoring your little whimper, voice thick with a hunger so antique it seemed to rot the air itself. “it awoke me. it stirred something in the darkness that has not been stirred for centuries.”

his lips, cold and soft, grazed the skin just below your ear. and then you felt the pressure of his fangs — not piercing yet, just resting there, twin points of imminent damnation.

vampire.

“i have been keeping to myself.” he breathed, the words a wave of ice down your spine. “but now... now you are here. your pulse is a drumbeat in my empty halls. your skin is warmth against my chill.”

fuck, i have to run. i have to–

one sturdy hand dipped lower and spread over your stomach, pulling you back against the chilly, unyielding line of his body, while the other propped itself on the edge of the vanity — successfully trapping you.

“my body craves yours, little thief. it would take so little to get what i want.” his teeth scraped lightly down against your jugular, not penetrating.

not yet.

“so tell me... will you let me do it?”

fuck, fuck, fuck–

your mind raced, but no answer came out. you were pinned between the vanity and his body, the jewels on your neck now feeling like a noose tightening with every brush of his mouth against your skin.

“sweetheart…” he pulled away from your neck just enough to look you in the eyes again, his gaze a bottomless, scarlet well.

“will you take responsibility?” he purred, his mouth curling into a predator smile.

your head spun, the room tilting on its axis from the quick turn. you were desperate to escape, the glint of his mischievous eyes sending a shiver down your spine.

“i... i can't.” you stammered, your voice a shabby whisper. “the jewels... they're not mine. i'll leave them, just let me go–”

“silence.”

the word wasn't spoken; it was hissed, a sound like silk tearing in the dark. his grip on your hips tightened, not enough to bruise, but enough to remind you of the steel in his veins.

“you wear my family's heirloom. you have adorned yourself in the trappings of my ancestry. tradition is unyielding in such matters.”

tradition?

“you were the one who chose to put them on. by the old laws, you are now my wife.” his red gaze burned into you, incandescent and hungry.

“that's insane!” your protest came out as a panicked laugh, completely baffled by what you were hearing. “i'm no lady. i'm a thief! a scraper of gutters!”

“and yet…” he purred, his mouth finding the soft hollow behind your ear. “you wear the jewels as if they were woven from your own soul.” his hands moved, sliding up to your midsection, tightening its possessive claim on your waist. “and as my wife, you have a duty.”

“i owe you nothing!” you squirmed, trying to wrestle free, but his body curved into yours, a living, implacable prison of flesh and strength.

“you owe me everything.” he corrected, his tone dropping into a venomous whisper. “your very presence here is a trespass. i own the roof, the stones, the air you breathe. and now, little thief, i own you.”

his mouth returned to your neck, his lips tracing the threading pulse with sacred devotion.

“your duty is to feed me. to sustain me. to be the vessel for my eternal hunger.” his hand slid from your waist, groping the curve of your ass through thin, tattered fabric, his touch bold and unyielding. “and you will accept this. you will embrace it.”

“no–” your word cut off into a strident, stuttering gasp as his fangs pierced your skin.

the pain was sharp and precise, a quick, burning sting. but it was over in a heartbeat, replaced by a strange, warm sensation that spread outward like liquid sunshine. you felt your very muscles relax, a heavy, pliant weight settling in your limbs. a low, humming pleasure took root in your core, blooming into a heady, familiar arousal.

“what... what is this?” you murmured, your voice slurred.

sylus pulled back, his mouth stained scarlet. he smiled, his fangs glinting with the achievement of piercing you. “a gift.” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction.

“and a reward. my bite... it can induce pleasure as easily as pain. it makes the submission sweeter.”

he swung you around and pressed you down, your back now flat to the vanity. your legs felt weak, your mind fuzzy and slow. the jewels on your neck felt heavier, their weight a promise of ownership.

“you are mine.” he repeated, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing around the thin fabric of your worn-out trousers. “your body, your blood, your pleasure. it all belongs to me now.”

your resistance crumbled, not under force, but under the strange, heady wave of aphrodisiac poison spreading through your veins. a moan escaped your lips as his fingers traced the soft, clothed skin of your inner thigh.

“that's it.” he coaxed, his voice a sinister lullaby. “accept your fate. it is more grandeur than whatever you could have stolen.”

he pulled you close, his body a shivering, immortal cold against your suddenly feverish heat. his mouth returned to the wound on your neck, and this time, when he sank his fangs deep, there was no pain. only a sweet, pulling sensation as he drank.

and a throbbing, urgent need between your legs that made you arch into his embrace, your hands finally raising to claw at his shoulders.

not to push him away, but to pull him closer.

“oh.”

he pulled back from your neck with a soft, wet sound, his tongue sweeping over the twin punctures he’d left behind. a low, hoarse moan ripped from your throat, the sensation of his wet tongue so exquisite it was nearly too much.

you could feel the warm trickle of your own blood slipping down your neck, past your collarbone, staining the dirty fabric of your blouse. it dripped onto the necklace adorning your throat too, coating the surface in a shimmering, dark crimson.

“that’s it, my wife.” sylus murmured, his voice a rumble against your skin. “let the sounds of your abandon fill my halls. they are more melodious than any symphony.”

his hips pushed forward, and you felt it — the hard, unyielding hardness of his arousal beneath the fine black material of his slacks. it strained against the fabric, a heavy, impressive bulge that pressed directly against the soft, quivering flesh of your inner thighs.

your own ragged pants, thin and worn, felt like no barrier at all.

every roll of his hips, every press of that thick, stone-hard cock against your clothed cunt sent a jolt of pleasure so sharp it made your vision blur.

“ahh…”

your head tilted back against the vanity, a sob escaping your lips as he rutted against you, the bunched material of your pants rubbing your swelling, sensitized folds through the soaked fabric of your undergarments. the aphrodisiac poison in your veins turned every touch into a liquid fire, and you could feel the wetness building, soaking through the rags, your body weeping with need.

he could smell it.

“so wet for me.” sylus groaned, his hands clenching on your hips through your thin pants. “so ready. all that feigned outrage, all those pitiful protests… melted away by a simple bite.” he laughed, a low, cocky chuckle that rumbled in his chest.

“you were always meant to be on your back for me, sweetheart. you just needed a little… encouragement.”

he rocked his hips, the steady, insistent pressure of his cock ruthlessly stroking the soaked, swollen bundle of nerves at your center. each pass elicited a new, higher moan, your hands flying up to clasp his back.

your fingers dug into the fine, black fabric of his unbuttoned shirt, your nails scraping against the underlying, chilled solidity of his body.

“please.” you whimpered, the word barely audible. it wasn’t a plea to stop; it was a plea for more.

“please what?” he purred, his mouth finding your ear. he nipped the lobe, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine. “does my wife need something?”

“i… i need…” you couldn’t form the words. your hips bucked up instinctively, seeking harder pressure, more friction.

“you need your husband to take you.” he declared, his voice filled with arrogant certainty. “you need me to fill that empty, aching little cunt until you forget your own name.”

his hand slid between your body and the vanity, his fingertips skimming the waistband of your ragged pants. “you need to feel me split you open, don’t you? to finally have something real inside that puny, starving body.”

you cried out, a sharp, wailing sound as he unceremoniously tore the weak stitching of your pants open, the ripping fabric a vulgar confession of your surrender. the cold air of the manor hit your bare skin, but it was quickly sheltered by his bare hand cupping you.

he palmed your entire cunt, his thumb pressing roughly against your swollen clit, making you jerk and scream.

“there it is.” he hissed, his eyes blazing with triumphant possession. “there’s the gutter wench, reduced to a needy, sobbing little thing. all it took was a taste of real pleasure.”

he pushed one long, cold finger inside you, and your whole body convulsed, your nails drawing down his back. “you’re so tight. so empty. you were waiting for me.”

his first finger slid in with the effortlessness of a knife through warm butter. a sharp, guttural moan tore from your throat, your head thrashing back against the dusty vanity mirror. your hips bucked, your entire being focused on that one, invading digit.

“that’s it, sweetheart.” sylus murmured, his lips brushing your jaw as he watched you. “let me hear how much you need this.”

he curled that first finger, searching, and then hit that spongy spot inside you that made your vision burst into white sparks. you cried, a raw, unhinged sound, hitting your head again against the mirror. your hands, once clawing at his back, now flew to the edge of the vanity, gripping the wood as if it could save you.

“so responsive.” he hummed, his eyes dark and hungry. “but one isn’t enough, is it? your greedy little cunt wants more.”

before you could beg, his second finger joined the first. the stretch was sharp, incendiary. your mouth fell open, a silent, desperate scream escaping you as your eyes rolled back. he stretched you out, working you open with the precise, merciless efficiency of a sculptor.

“you take them so well, wife!” he praised, his thumb swiping through the soaked, twitching folds, landing on your clit. “so wet. so warm. it’s as if your body was built just to welcome me.”

the circles on your clit intensified.

you sobbed, a sound of overwhelmed, pleasure-bordering-on-pain ecstasy. your inner muscles fluttered, clenching around his daring digits, trying to accommodate the stretch. he pushed deeper, his bottom knuckles brushing against your swollen entrance.

“talk to me, sweetheart.” he ordered, his voice a low, commanding rumble. “tell me how my touch feels.”

“i-it’s… so good. “you gasped, your words slurred and heavy. “so… full.”

“full?” he laughed, a dark, chuckling sound. “this is nothing, my dear. you have no idea how full i will make you.”

then, he began to slowly withdraw his fingers. you whimpered, a protest at the loss, your orgasm now neglected. but he only smiled, his intense gaze locked on yours.

“patience, wife. i have something else for you.”

he raised his sticky hand, and your eyes flicked down past the wetness. on his ring finger, the one you had not yet felt, was a heavy, ornate silver ring with a large, intricately carved dragon.

your own eyes widened, recognizing it.

it was the match to the ring you had stuck on your own finger in your desperate greed.

“yes.” he whispered, seeing your realization. “the pair is complete. you put on the seal of your own bondage, my dear. it was always meant to be on your finger, just as mine is on my own.”

he pressed the tip of that ring finger against your soaked, trembling entrance. the metal was chilly, a contrast to your scalding heat. you moaned, low and long, as he pushed it inside, joined by his other two fingers.

“oh, lord–”

the sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt. the cold, hard metal of the ring continuously pressed against your swollen, spasming opening, pumping in and out, stretching you, filling you.

“three fingers.” he groaned, his own breath hitching as he watched his hand disappear into your body. “you take them all, my greedy little thief. you take what is yours.”

his thumb never ceased its round, rough circles on your clit, making you squirm and shudder. your hands left the wood, reaching for him again, tangling in the hair at the base of his neck, pulling at the collar of his shirt.

“tell me more.” he demanded, his thrusts becoming faster, harder. “tell me how needy you are for me. how you love being filled like this.”

“i’m so… so needy.” you sobbed, tears streaming down your face, words slurred between moans. “i love it. i love your fingers in me. i love how you stretch me. it feels so good, i… i can’t stand it.”

“you can stand it.” he growled, his nose pressing against your neck, licking at the coagulated blood. “you were made for it. now, thank me. thank your husband.”

your body began to tense, the pleasure coiling tight in your belly, spreading outward like a shattering wave. your vision tunneled, the only thing real was him, his hand, his touch.

“say it!” he roared, his thumb pressing down hard on your clit.

the orgasm ripped through you, violent and unstoppable. your back arched off the vanity, a soundless, raged scream frozen in your throat. your inner walls gripped his digits, spasms of pleasure so intense they bordered on pain.

and in that peak, with his fingers deep inside you and his thumb on your swollen, pulsing clit, you sobbed the words.

“t-than-nk you, hus–”

the word echoed in the silent room, a sacrament, a surrender.

“–bnd.”

sylus stilled, his hand slowing its ruthless motion, yet not quite stopping. he leaned in, his lips parting in a triumphant, predatory smile, dipping his tongue down your cheek and collecting your salty tears.

“clearer, sweetheart.” he whispered, his voice dangerously soft.

your body was a trembling mess, shockwaves of pleasure still rippling through you, while the constant rubbing and thrusting of his fingers made it all overwhelming. you whimpered, eyes barely blinking through the tears, as you did your best to say the words.

“than-k yooou, husband-d.”

a slow, satisfied smile crept across sylus' face at your thanks.

“good girl.”

he purred, his voice a vibrating rumble against your skin. he slowly, thoughtfully, withdrew his soaked fingers from your spent cunt, the sudden emptiness a profane relief. you watched, your breath hitching, as he raised his hand to his crimson mouth.

his tongue, long and dexterous, swept out to meet his fingertips. he licked your arousal from his skin with the same reverent care a connoisseur would clean precious wine from a crystal goblet.

his ruby gaze held yours, unwavering, as he swallowed.

“the taste of your submission…” he mused, his voice a lull of dark pleasure. “it is even sweeter than your fear.”

he straightened, musing with that aristocratic arrogance. “but fingers are merely a prelude. a marriage must be consummated.”

his gaze swept the room, landing on a tall, carved wooden armchair near the window. with one effortless hand, he dragged it across the dusty floor, its legs scraping on the wood, and positioned it right before the large, golden-framed vanity mirror.

he turned back to you, his eyes glowing with possessive anticipation. “come, wife.”

your legs were still weak, your mind fogged with satiation and anticipation. so he swept you into his arms as if you weighed nothing, your ragged clothes a cruel juxtaposition against his immaculate silk and wool. he sat in the armchair ceremoniously, settling you across his lap, your back to his chest, your gaze forced toward your own reflection.

“look!” he commanded, his lips finding the shell of your ear. “look at the picture we make.”

your own image stared back at you: a wild-eyed, disheveled thing, hair a tangled mane, face flushed and shining with sweat. the silver around your neck gleamed, out of place against the dirt on your skin.

his mouth trailed down your throat, his teeth scraping gently against your bite mark. then, his hands followed, gripping the thin fabric of your blouse. with a sharp tear, he wrenched it down, the ragged cloth giving way to expose your beautiful, neglected chest.

the necklace settled over them, the cool metal a shivering contrast to your warm, peaked nipples.

“exquisite.” he hummed, his palms cupping your breasts, his thumbs rolling over your nipples until you moaned out loud, your head lolling back against his shoulder. “the jewels of my house, now put to proper use.”

his hands traveled down, over your quivering stomach, until he reached the waistband of your shredded pants. with a single, ruthless tug, he tore them away, leaving you completely bare on his lap. you felt him shift, and the sound of his slacks unfastening sent a new thrill of anticipation through you.

then you felt it — the heavy, intimidating weight of his arousal springing now free. he guided his cock, thick and long, upward, so the head notched just at your soaked, swollen entrance. the tip was a slightly darker hue, glistening in the moonlight, and it seemed impossibly large.

“here.”

he guided your hand to his lap, and your fingers met the solid, veiny length of his erect cock. it felt immense, hard as marble and slightly chilled.

“feel what you have won, wife.” he growled, his hand over yours, guiding you to stroke him. “something much greater than mere silver.”

he positioned you, lifting your hips slightly. you felt the thick, slightly tapered head of his cock press against your soaked, trembling entrance. your eyes, haunted and hungry, met your own in the mirror.

“watch.” he ordered, his voice a dark and smooth like velvet. “watch your lewd, little body. watch how it stretches to take its husband.”

he pushed in, and you saw it.

you saw your own reflection: your eyes wide, your mouth open in a silent scream, your slight frame bare and vulnerable. and you saw your cunt, so aroused, so wet, gaping open as it began to take him in.

but you saw no him.

no hands on your thighs, keeping you open.

no body behind you.

in the mirror, it looked as though your own body was simply floating, spread legs and arched back, as your cunt stretched and widened around… nothing. a blank space.

“yes.” he hissed, his voice a ghost in your ear as he slowly, inexorably filled you. “see how you grip nothing? see how your greedy, slutty little hole strains against the air? it is the ultimate surrender, my dear. to give yourself to a vampire.”

the stretch was incredible. he felt even larger than anything you’ve taken before. harder, more unyielding. you sobbed, your head falling back against his body, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“you like that, don't you?” he groaned, his hips beginning a slow, punishing rhythm. “you like playing the whore for a specter. a dead man, forgotten by all.”

he pushed deep, hitting your cervix, and you screamed, your eyes shutting against his neck.

“no, sweetheart! look!” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. “look at yourself. look at the whorish wife i have acquired.”

your eyes flew open, meeting your own gaze. you saw the chain bouncing against your heaving chest. you saw the flush on your skin, the sweat on your brow. you saw the way your stomach bulged with each of his thrusts.

and you saw the sight of your own body, fucking itself on nothing, stretched and wet and totally, utterly ruined.

that aroused you even more.

“it's so… perverted.” you whimpered, your voice breaking.

yet you didn’t avert your gaze.

you saw it all. you saw the way your tight, young flesh strained, expanding around the invading cock. you saw how it swallowed him, how your body distorted to accommodate his size.

and you saw no reason for it.

in the reflecting surface, it was just you — your gaping, lewd cunt — opening around nothing more than empty air.

“tell me…” he growled, his voice strained as he slowly, mercilessly buried himself deeper inside you. “tell me how it feels to be fucked by no one. tell me how much you love being my little wife.”

your mouth opened, but only a ragged moan came out. he bottomed out suddenly, his hips fully cushioned against yours, and you felt him, so deep, so completely filling you, it seemed impossible.

and the mirror showed only you, your body deformed around a void.

“i... i love it.” you gasped, the words finally breaking through. “i love how it feels. i love how full i look, how profane i look... stretched out for you.”

he moved once, a slow, possessive roll of his hips, and you screamed, your mouth breaking into a large circle.

“then tell me to fuck you, wife. tell your husband to use his property.”

“please…” you sobbed, your hands reaching back to claw at his hair. “please, husband, fuck me. use me. i'm yours.”

his response was immediate and violent. the slow, possessive rolls of his hips exploded into a ruthless, punishing pace. he slammed into you, his thighs crashing against your spread ass with each thrust, the sound of skin against skin a wet, slapping echo in the dusty room.

your body rocked with the force of his strokes, your head snapping back, your hands scrambling for hold on the armrests of the chair.

“yes!” you screamed, the sound raw and unrecognizable. “yes, husband!”

your breasts, adorned with the stolen necklace, jiggled and bounced with outrageous rhythm. in the mirror, they looked like obscene, living trinkets, the pale silver a stark contrast against your flushed, dirt-streaked skin. your nipples were hard, aching, and the chain rolled against them with each jolt, overstimulating them with the coldness.

“so sinful.” sylus growled, his voice strained with the effort of his thrusts. “to be decorated in my ancestors' treasure while your body is used like a whore. you were born for this, to be fucked by cursed souls in a ruined manor.”

his hand snaked down between your bodies, his thumb pressing directly onto your swollen, throbbing clit. you let out a shriek, your body twitching. the sensation was too much — a sharp, overwhelming pleasure that tore at the edge of pain.

“that's it.” he hissed, his thumb making tight, round circles. “let that little nub guide you. feel how it enhances your pleasure.”

he accelerated, his thrusts becoming shallower, faster, more focused on that spot inside you that made your vision white. your moans were continuous now, a stream of sounds that were part sob, part scream.

your gaze was locked on the mirror as much as possible, on the sight of your own gaping, slopping cunt, stretched open around nothing.

“ahhh-h.”

then, you felt it — the scrape of his fangs against the tender skin of your throat. a shiver, not of fear, but of ravenous anticipation, ran down your spine.

the memory of the aphrodisiac poison, the euphoric surrender, was still so fresh.

“please.” you begged, your voice breaking. “bite me, husband. please, i need it.”

he groaned, a sound of pure, unadulterated lust. “you want to feel me in your veins while i'm in your cunt? you want to bleed for me while you cry on my cock?”

“yes!” you sobbed, your hands reaching back to tangle in his hair, pulling his mouth closer to your neck. “please!”

he snarled, a sound of triumphant possession, and then his fangs pierced your skin.

“ohh...”

it wasn't the careful, teasing puncture of before. this was a voracious, possessive bite.

you felt the sharp, searing pain, and then the immediate, warm gush of your blood. he drank deeply, his throat working against your neck, and the sensation was so intimate, so violent, it sent a new, scorching wave of arousal surging through you.

he didn't stop fucking you.

in fact, his thrusts became more furious, more possessive, as he drank. you felt your own lifeforce being drawn out, and with it, any last shred of resistance.

your body was his.

your blood was his.

your pleasure was his.

he pulled away from your neck with a gasp, his lips stained bright red. “i tasted your soul.” he hissed, his voice gravelly. “and it is mine.”

and with that, his thrusts became erratic, unraveling. he ground deep inside you, his hand still working over your clit, and let out a low, guttural roar.

with that, you felt him pulse one last time, hard and hot, deep within you. thick, sticky ropes of his seed spurted into your womb, some spilling out, hot and plentiful.

he held you down, his body shuddering with the last of his release, making sure your greedy pussy took all of his cum.

then, slowly, he pulled out.

“s-shit.”

in the mirror, you saw it.

you saw your gaping, well-used cunt, now slopping with his seed. it trickled out of you, a pearly, opaque white against your swollen, abused hole.

it mixed with your own arousal, creating a lewd, shimmering cream at your entrance.

the sight was undeniably pornographic: the ragged thief, jeweled in silver, her body spent and filled, her vision haunted by her own submission.

“beautiful.” sylus whispered, his hand trailing through the mess he'd made of you, dexterous fingers scooping up the cum and smearing it all over your cunt. “my thieving, promiscuous wife.”

©pearlescenthoney 2025. do not copy, translate, or claim any of my writings or works as your own.

The dim gauze of the bar clung to the air like a lover's breath, smoke and laughter swirling under low-hanging lights that cast shadows across polished wood and half-empty glasses. Sylus lingered in the corner, his crimson eyes fixed on you from across the room. You moved with an effortless grace, sipping your drink, unaware of the storm you stirred in him. It wasn't just your face– though gods, it was so achingly similar– but the way your laughter tilted your head back, exposing the pulse at your throat. She had done that too, his lost love, centuries ago. A ghost in your form, pulling him from the shadows he'd inhabited for so long.

He watched as you turned, your eyes meeting his in a flicker of curiosity. A slow smile curved his lips, fangs hidden but hunger rising. He approached, the crowd parting without notice, his presence a subtle command. "Dance with me," he murmured, his voice snaking under your ribs to grasp your heart, extending a hand pale as moonlight.

You took it, drawn by the intensity in his gaze, the way his touch sent a familiar shiver up your arm. The music throbbed low and rhythmic, bodies pressing close on the floor. He pulled you against him, one hand at the small of your back, the other cradling your waist. At first, it was a languid dance, swaying hips, breaths mingling. But heat built like embers catching flame. His thigh slipped between yours, a deliberate press that made your pulse quicken. You arched into him, fingers tangling in his silver hair, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered something indecently incoherent, his breath cool against your skin. The dance turned erotic, a grind of bodies that promised more, his hardness evident against your hip, drawing more hip rolls from you.

By the time you led him out into the night, the air between you crackled. Your apartment was a short walk away, the city lights blurring into tipsy streaks. At the threshold, he paused, a hesitation so brief you missed it, his eyes darkening with ancient restraint. "Invite me in," he said, a hidden plea wrapped in command.

"Come inside," you replied, pulling him over the line. The door clicked shut, sealing the world away.

In the soft glow of your living room lamp, you poured drinks, words flowing easily at first about the bar, the night. But he watched you with that predatory patience, lounging on the couch like a king on his throne. "You're bolder than you look," he taunted, a smirk playing on his lips. "Come here. Show me."

Drawn like a moth to flame, you straddled his lap, his hands guiding your hips down. The kiss started slow, his lips cool and firm against yours, tongue tracing the soft flesh until you parted for him. It deepened, sensual and unhurried, his fangs grazing just enough to send sparks through you. He rolled his hips up, grinding you against the rigid length straining his pants, a low growl rumbling in his chest as you moaned into his mouth.

You pull back slightly, breath ragged, fingers tracing his jaw. "Who are you really? You look at me like you've known me forever."

Sylus smirked, his hands tightening on your hips.

His silence told you more than it should have and nothing at all.

"Come with me.”

You stood, taking his hand, leading him to the bedroom where moonlight filtered through curtains. He undressed you with reverence, fingers peeling away fabric inch by inch, lips following. He kissed the curve of your shoulder, the dip of your collarbone, the swell of your breast. Every exposed bit of skin met his mouth, cool and worshipful, until you stood bare before him.

To his surprise, you returned the favor, hands steady as you unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it off to reveal pale olive, sculpted muscle. Your lips trailed down his chest, over the ridges of his abdomen, nipping at his hipbone. He tensed, eyes widening slightly, unused to being the one adored. "What are you doing to me?" he breathed, voice rough.

Effortlessly, he lifted you, arms like iron bands, kissing you deeply before lowering you to the bed. He hovered above, a shadow of desire, then descended– lips on your breasts, sucking gently at one peak while his hand teased the other. Downward he went, kissing feather-light over your tummy, until he settled between your thighs, parting them with care.

His tongue traced your folds with deliberate slowness, flat and broad at first, lapping up the pooling wetness that seeped from you. Each pass gathered your essence on his taste buds, a low hum vibrating from his throat as he savored the salt-sweet slickness coating his lips. “You still taste so good,” he murmured against your skin.

Confusion flickered through your mind– still?– but before you could voice it, a gasp tore from your throat as he delved deeper. His tongue probed your entrance with teasing insistence, swirling higher to circle your clit, drawing it between his lips with a gentle suck that pulled a deep, throbbing ache from your core. Your back bowed off the bed involuntarily. It was overwhelming, this blend of tenderness and hunger, as if he were worshiping a memory made flesh. "Sylus..." you whimpered, your voice breathy and broken, the name feeling both foreign and achingly familiar on your tongue.

He intensified then, his tongue flicking in precise, unhurried strokes that built a frantic pressure inside you, each lap sending your thighs trembling around his head. The coolness of his skin contrasted sharply with the fire he ignited, heightening every sensation until you felt like you might shatter.

Two long fingers eased inside you next, knuckles brushing your sensitive walls before curling upward, hooking against that textured ridge deep within that made stars burst behind your eyelids. They pumped lazily, scissoring to stretch you open, the wet sounds of your arousal squelching around them.

It felt so intimate, so invading in the best way– his touch coaxing out not just your body's responses, but fragments of emotions you couldn't name, a profound ache of reunion swelling in your chest. Red eyes held yours captive, watching every twitch and gasp he pulled from you, his gaze fierce and possessive, like he was drinking in your soul along with your essence. "Please... more," you begged softly, your hips rocking into his hand and tongue, trying to chase the building ecstasy that he churned.

But his head lifted, lips and chin glistening with your juices, pulling out his fingers. He looked utterly undone, yet so controlled, as he locked eyes with you licking up your syrupy slick from his digits and it made your pulse flutter wildly. He shifted upward, pulling you closer by your hips with effortless strength, his hands cool and firm on your heated skin.

He nudged your entrance with his dark, flushed cock, before dragging it through your folds, parting the swollen lips with its blunt tip. Back and forth, collecting your wetness along his length until it gleamed, the friction a teasing glide that made your hips buck involuntarily, a frustrated whine escaping your lips. Every slide sent jolts of need through you, your body aching for more, for him to fill the emptiness that suddenly felt unbearable without him. “Please…”

He hesitated there, poised at the brink, his shaft pulsing against you as if debating the plunge. A shadow of ancient doubt clouded his gaze, as though piercing this veil might dissolve the fragile echo of memory.

But you locked your ankles at the small of his back, heels digging in to pull him closer, and he yielded with a guttural groan, pressing forward inch by torturous inch. The stretch burned sweetly as your walls yielded to accommodate his girth, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure. His base finally met your ass, both of you exhaling sharp breaths at the intimate lock. Your cunt clenched around the invading heat, and a sob of relief escaped you. It was like coming home, this fullness, this connection.

“You feel… perfect,” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as tears pricked your eyes from the intensity.

The rhythm unfolded languidly, his hips withdrawing almost to the tip before sinking back in with smooth, rolling deliberation. Each thrust a quiet claim that stirred your depths and sent ripples of bliss through you. His body undulates above you like molten shadow, pelvis grinding against your clit on every downstroke, the friction igniting a slow, coiling burn low in your belly.

You met his movements instinctively, arching into him, skin sliding against skin as your breaths mingled in heated pants.

“Don’t stop… I need you,” you moaned, the words dissolving into broken cries as the pleasure crested higher, binding you to him in a way that felt older than language, deeper than memory.

He drew out the sensations, lingering at the hilt to let you feel the throb of him inside, the way your slick coated his shaft and dripped down to soak the sheets beneath. Whispers ghosted against your neck, his cool breath fanning your skin as he murmured filthy endearments, "So wet for me... taking every inch like you used to….you were made for this."

But restraint began to unravel, threads snapping one by one. His tempo sharpened, thrusts gaining force without haste at first, each one punching deeper until the air thickened with the slap of skin meeting skin.

With a growl, his hands gripped your thighs, cool palms sliding up to hook under your knees, pressing them firmly toward your chest.

Sylus folded you in half beneath his weight, a vulnerable cradle that angled your hips upward, allowing him to bury himself to the root with every drive. No room to retreat, your body pinned and open.

“That's it– nice and deep–”

His cock hammered relentlessly now, dragging through your clenching heat, punctuated by his balls smacking your ass. The bedframe groaned in protest under the mounting pressure, the wood knocking on the wall as his cock knocked on your cervix.

White wings erupted from his back in a sudden flare, expansive and luminous. Quivering as they stretched wide, casting flickering shadows across the walls like a divine shroud covering the filthy rhythm of your union.

"I've missed you," he groaned, voice breaking with centuries of longing. “It comes in waves, and just tonight I was drowning…My wife... we're reunited at last." His words wove through the haze of his hips slamming home. Ecstasy built, coiling tight until it unraveled in pulses that left you trembling, his release flowing hot and endless, bodies locked in that filthy-soft surrender as you came together.

Sylus lingered inside you, his breath ragged against your skin as your delirium subsided, your body limp and glowing.

But he was far from done. Centuries without you will do that to an immortal.

With a fluid grace that belied his size, he withdrew just enough to flip you onto your stomach, the sheets whispering beneath you. His chest pressed flush to your back, a wall of cool muscle and restrained power, as he slid his cock back in deep, filling you once more with a groan.

“Made for me…my wife…” One hand circled your throat like a living collar, fingers firm but tender, tilting your head up just enough to arch your body back into his. The pressure was a delicious anchor, grounding you as he began to move, slowly at first, savoring the drag and clench, then building to a relentless rhythm. His hips snapped forward, pounding with a primal urgency, each thrust sending ripples through your core. His wings remained unfurled, vast and luminous, casting ethereal patterns on the walls like moonlight through stained glass, their faint rustle adding to the symphony of skin on skin.

You came again, alone in that cresting surge, a quiet unraveling that left you gasping into the bedding and shuddering under him. “Already?” He teased, tightening his grip on your neck, to turn your head to the side with gentle insistence. Your pulse throbbed under his thumb, calling to him like an offering. His lips grazed the tender skin there, fangs elongating in the heat of the moment, before he sank them in, a sharp, exquisite pierce that blurred pain into bliss.

The bite tipped him over, his body seizing as he flooded you once more with his cum, hips stuttering in that final, desperate claim. Warmth spread where he marked you, a bond sealed in blood and ecstasy, his wings trembling above like a canopy of forgotten stars. He collapsed against you, fangs retracting slowly, as his lips soothed the wound with soft licks.

Sylus's weight pinned you to the mattress, his cock still buried deep, twitching with residual need, amid the slick mess of your combined fluids leaking out around him. The bite on your neck throbbed dully, under his lazy laps, tongue delving into the punctures like he was savoring a forbidden vintage. "Still taste so fucking sweet," he murmured hoarsely against your skin, his free hand sliding down to where you were joined, fingers dipping into the creamy overflow, smearing it over your clit in slow, teasing circles that made you clench around him involuntarily.

He kept you plugged full, his hips giving shallow, lazy rolls that stirred the wetness inside you. His wings flexed above, the velvet tips brushing your calves like silk curtains, trapping the heat between your bodies. The hand at your throat loosened just enough to let you breathe deeper, but his fingers stayed, a possessive choker that pulsed with your heartbeat.

"More?" he rasped, nipping at your earlobe, fangs grazing without breaking skin. You nodded, a whimper escaping, and he chuckled dark and low, the sound like a tongue flick to your clit. “Insatiable as always, my wife..”

With a sudden shift, he hauled your hips up higher, ass lifted in offering as he knelt behind you, chest still glued to your spine. He thrust in deeper from this angle, the head of his cock dragging against that swollen spot inside that made your walls flutter greedily. Cum dripped down your pussy lips, cool against heated skin, and he gathered it on his fingers, pushing it back in alongside his length, stretching you fuller, the glide against your gummy walls making your eyes roll back.

His pace built again, inebriating and raw, pounding into your soaked pussy, spraying droplets of cum on the surrounding skin and his balls heavily tapping against your clit with each drive. His wings outstretched further, quivering with every brutal snap, casting shadows that danced like lovers in torment. He turned your head once more, exposing the unmarked side of your neck, and as his rhythm faltered toward the brink, he struck, his fangs piercing clean and deep into the junction of your neck and shoulder.

The pull of his drinking sent jolts straight to your core, making you come with a shudder. Your silky walls milked him as he spilled again, his groan muffled and wet into your neck as he kept swallowing your life essence in greedy gulps. His body shuddered as he ground through his peak, holding you there until the tremors finally ebbed and you slipped bonelessly toward sleep.

When he finally eased back, fangs retracting free with a wet pop, he licked the new wounds closed, his hand dipping low to rub the mess into your skin, marking you in every filthy way possible. “Mine forever, wife,” he breathed.

His wings folded slowly, drawing you into the cradle of his body, soft velvet closing around you both in a cocoon of sex, blood, and sin. “In every way, in every lifetime.”

Thanks for reading <3

Oh God, what if he rejected you and threw you to them? They’d tear you apart piece by piece, and you’d probably be conscious to feel all of it. Suddenly, being devoured by their king felt more merciful.

They forced you to kneel as they presented you. An animal for slaughter. Prey to be feasted upon.

Sylus didn’t even acknowledge you, or your captors. He remained seated on his throne, still engaged in conversation with what seemed like his two most trusted advisors. Friends? Subordinates? You didn’t care. You just needed him to look at you long enough to accept the offering.

One of your captors cleared his throat. “Your Majesty?”

Sylus slowly turned his head to glance at the nuisance who dared disturb him. 

“We bring you an offering, Your Highness,” the vampire said, voice trembling. “A pure human girl who hasn’t been marked by another vampire.”

Sylus finally glanced your way before descending the stairs with unhurried grace. 

Your captor’s spine went rigid.

“And the purpose of this offering is…?” Sylus gestured lazily in your direction.

“Y–your pleasure, my King,” the vampire stammered. 

Ah, no confidence. A sign of weakness. You thought to yourself.

“I see. And you thought bringing me a trembling, delicate human girl would please me?”

Shit. He thought you were delicate. Weak. That meant death. Well, at least Sylus killing you would be better than his subjects.

“I–uh–we thought—”

“You thought she’d please me,” Sylus cut in, unimpressed. “That if I’m in a good mood, I’d reward you. You thought you could bribe me? Buy my favor with a mere human girl? Put a price on my grace… and that price was this girl?” He scoffed. “I am offended.”

“Y–yo–your Grace, please—”

Another captor interjected, “I–we didn’t mean it like that. We only wished to honor you.”

A third only made it worse, “We believed an untouched human girl would have the purest, most exquisite taste.” 

Your stomach folded on itself. And it was as if Sylus could sense it. His gaze flickered to you briefly, a faint crease forming between his brows under the mask, before he turned back. “Enough!”

Silence fell over the hall. Everyone recognized that tone. He was displeased. And when he was in this mood, he tended to make an example of someone. After all, he hadn’t earned his reputation without reason. Someone was about to die. 

All eyes were on the five vampires, you, and Sylus.

One vampire behind you collapsed to his knees. “Please, my King. Mercy.”

Ah. Another mistake committed by him tonight.

“Mercy?” Sylus laughed. “Do I look like a merciful King to you? What’s next? You’ll ask to sit at my side?”

The vampire shook his head. “N–no, my King. Please–spare us—”

“You should’ve considered that before bringing her here.” With a casual flick of his fingers, their heads dropped next to their bodies behind you. You flinched.

And then he approached you. 

With two fingers under your chin, he guided your face up to meet his eyes and removed his mask.

Your breath caught. 

Shit. He was hot. Extremely so. And those red eyes… the fear inside you shifted into something else. Excitement? Thrill? Desire? 

No. Ew. He was a vicious vampire king who only saw you as food. Right?

“You’re cold for a human.” These were his first words to you. Weird. Oddly gentle for a ruthless vampire, but okay.

“Well, it is cold in here,” you blurted. 

Shit. You’re dead. Your head would join your captors’.

His lips twitched. Barely. But you saw it. Was he amused? 

“And what is your name, mortal?” he asked, removing your mask with surprising delicacy.

“Y/n,” you said, forcing steady eye contact. You had to show strength. Even if he could hear your heartbeat thundering.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, and it caused goosebumps to break across your skin. 

Was he talking about your name or your…face? Probably something else entirely that had nothing to do with you.

“Huh?” escaped you.

Fuck. You did it again. You were doomed. He was gonna think you were disrespecting him and get offended. 

This time, he smirked subtly. “Rise.” 

A single command. And you found your body obeying instantly.

He clapped twice. What the hell did that mean? Was it a signal for them to attack and rip you apart? For guards to drag you out and feed you to some other vicious vampire he probably kept up in his dungeon. 

Instead, the ballroom resumed its merriment, as if nothing happened.

Sylus motioned for you to walk with him.

You followed him until you reached his balcony, away from prying eyes.

Then he did the most unexpected thing: he removed his coat and draped it over your shoulders. The shock on your face was unmistakable.

“You were shivering. Can’t have my guests catching a cold, now can I? I’d be a terrible host.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. You were his guest? You? Whaaat?

“Not a blood bag?” you blurted.

You and that damned mouth that was gonna get you in trouble if you kept speaking without thinking.

“Technically, yes,” he mused. “Depends on who you ask. But you’re safe here. No one would dare touch you while you’re under my protection.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Can I ask you something?”

He nodded. “Go on.”

“Why?”

He knew what you were asking, but he wanted to hear you say it. His eyes gleamed. “Why what?”

“Why did you spare me?”

“Who said I’m sparing you?” he teased.

Oh, he was toying with you. Testing you.

“You… just said that I was safe.”

He nodded. “True. Safe from everyone else,” he corrected. “No one other than me would dare touch you. Surely you didn’t think the rules applied to me?”

“Right. Of course not. You’re the vicious vampire king,” you muttered with a hint of sarcasm.

“You’re a brave one. Talking to your king like that.”

Somehow you found the gut to say the next words. “My king? I’m a human. You’re a vampire. You rule over your kind.”

“And a defiant one, I see. Tell me, did you not just witness what I do to offenders?” he asked, amused.

You shrugged. “I have. But I also know what happens to the weak. Besides, they deserved it. I won’t feel pity for them.” 

He chuckled. “You do realize I could end your life with a snap of my fingers?”

“I do. But I won’t beg for my life. If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with.”

“I don’t take kindly to orders.” His tone sharpened, a warning.

“Sorry, Your Grace.” You courtesied with theatrical politeness. “If you wish to end my life, then please do, Your Highness.”

He laughed softly. “Alright. You got me. No harm will come to you. Not from my court…and not even from me, this time. You have my word.”

“Thank you.”

“But what would you give me in return?” he asked.

“Ah, of course there’s a catch,” you smiled. For a moment, you forgot who you were actually talking to. He didn’t seem that vicious or dangerous…well, except for that part where he just killed five vampires simply because he felt like it.

“What? I’m a king after all. I don’t just grant free wishes. I’m not a genie. Besides, nothing in life is free.”

“Fine. What do you want in return for sparing me?”

He wagged a finger. “Ah-ah. I want to know what you’re willing to offer freely.”

“Hmm, I could say my loyalty, but you already have plenty of that.”

“Smart girl. Go on then. I’m intrigued.”

You thought for a long moment. “There is nothing I could offer you that you don’t already have. And I cannot assume you’d want anything, otherwise you’d have already taken it. I’d say the only thing I could offer would be love, but then who’s to say you want it, or even feel it. Besides, it would be a lie to offer something so deep to someone I barely know.”

“I see.” A beat of silence. “And you’re not wrong. If there’s anything I wanted, I’d have taken it. Whether it’s love or otherwise.”

“You can’t force someone to love you.”

“Who said anything about force?” He raised a brow, placing his hands behind his back.

“No? Then how would you take it, if it isn’t offered?”

“By earning it.” He said it so casually, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple. Difficult, maybe. But straightforward. If I want something, I get it. But there are many different ways of getting what we want, depending on what it is and who we want it from. Know your target and act accordingly. Some things require violence, others require a certain amount of…gentleness, and patience.”

You nodded, impressed. “You’re not what I thought you’d be.”

“What? A bloodthirsty vampire?” He smirked. “I am. It’s in my nature. But I’m not cruel. I deal with people the way they deserve to be dealt with.”

You smiled but said nothing. Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You were looking up at the stars, trying not to think about him. Him being this gentle and nice with you didn’t help the thoughts you were having about him. 

Then he broke the silence. “Do you want me to bite, or do you want to keep pretending you don’t want me to?”

You turned to look at him, only to find him staring at you. You swallowed hard before answering. “I—What?”

“Don’t be coy with me now. I could hear your heartbeat from the moment you entered, and I can distinguish between fear and…desire.” His fingers hovered over your lips, not touching yet. Waiting for permission.

“I–” your breath hitched.

“You…?” he taunted with an amused smile.

“How much does it hurt?” 

Why were you asking that? You should refuse immediately as long as he’s giving you a choice, which he was!

“Only one way to find out.” He shrugged. “So, what is it gonna be, Y/n? Do you dare and are you brave enough to take a chance or will you keep wondering and play it safe?” His hand stayed right in front of your face.

You inhaled deeply, gathering all your courage to speak. “I want to know what it feels like.”

He nodded in acknowledgement, satisfied with your answer. His thumb traced your lips before finding your pulse point, hooking his fingers at the back of your neck and pulling you closer. He extended his fangs and was ready to sink them into your delicate skin before you stopped him.

“Wait!”

One brow lifted. Surprised? Disappointed? Confused? 

“Did you change your mind? Does the thought of my fangs penetrating your skin scare you?”

You shook your head. “You asked me earlier what I could offer you. This is my answer.”

“For me to drink from you?” He scoffed lightly. “You do know that I’m a vampire and do this all the time, right?”

You shook your head again. “That’s not what I meant.” You steadied yourself. “I mean willingly. Humans are terrified of your race. Many have been fed on forcibly, at least once. The treaty between our races, the humans sent here as ‘volunteers’, they don’t do it because they desire to be fed on. They do it as a sacrifice to keep the rest of us safe. I can assure you no human who’d been fed on did it without reason. So here I am, offering you my neck without expecting anything in return. You have already given me your word that you’d spare me even without anything in return. So this is me offering you something purely.”

For the first time, Sylus looked stunned. 

Then he bit you. He didn’t warn you, didn’t ease into it, he simply claimed you. 

It stung at first, but far less than you imagined.

And oh, did he enjoy it. He groaned in satisfaction. The taste of your untainted blood hit his tongue, and it was euphoric. For the first time, he found it difficult to stop. He’d never had blood taste this sweet and delicious. But then he remembered his promise to you and pulled back. Slowly. Reluctantly. 

Your blood dripped down from the corner of his lips. “Exquisite,” he breathed as he looked down at you.

You were gasping softly, lips parted.

“And? How was it? Up to your expectations?” He wiped the blood with his thumb before applying gentle pressure to your wound.

“Better,” you whispered.

He smirked. “Good. Are you interested in making a deal with me?”

You raised a brow. “What kind of deal?”

“Stay by my side…And let me earn your love,” he said bluntly.

“Oh.” That rendered you speechless for a moment. 

But for some reason, you found yourself asking, “And what would I get in return?”

“Other than my eternal love and devotion? You’d have a place by my side. As my queen. You’d want for nothing, whether it’s physical, material, emotional, or otherwise.”

“I–”

“You don’t have to give me an answer now. I’ll wait for as long as you need.”

You nodded. “If I do accept, where would I stay?... Sleep?”

“Ah. If it is a separate bedroom you prefer, you shall have one.”

“You sleep on a bed?…Not in a coffin?”

He snorted. “This is the twenty-first century. Beds exist. Vampires have evolved. Though the coffin has…its charms, I still have mine if that’s what you’re asking. It was more sanitary than many places back in the day. And on some days, it feels better than a bed.”

“I see.”

He saw your hesitation and already knew what you were wondering. “Would you like to see it?”

You nodded. He offered you his hand and you took it as he led you down through the castle halls. The lower levels were lit up by firelight. Finally, you reached a secluded chamber with a single ornate coffin. He let go of your hand to open it before stepping aside.

You approached slowly, looking inside, taking it in.

Then, from behind, he whispered: “I dare you to lie inside.”

Your eyes widened briefly, heart racing, but you were determined to show him that it wasn’t a big deal. So, you did.

The truth was, he never allowed anyone inside his coffin, yet somehow he found himself wanting to share it with you. He climbed in after you, the space feeling extremely tight, but not unwelcome. His chest pressed to yours as he turned to face you.

“Would you sleep in here with me if I asked nicely?”

You nodded, breath shallow.

“No need to be anxious, Y/n,” he murmured. “Nothing will happen to you. And I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”

Maybe he wasn’t the vicious vampire everyone claimed he was after all. And somehow, deep down, you knew he’d never harm you as sleep finally claimed you.

For the first time in ages, Sylus slept through the night and it felt good. Peaceful.

The next morning felt different. Though you were in enemy territory, you felt safe. When you opened your eyes you found his staring back at you.

“Good morning,” he muttered softly.

You blinked. “Morning...”

“You must be starving. I’ll have the servants prepare something for you.” And with that he was gone.

Your mouth hung open as you processed what just happened.

Later, as you wandered upstairs, the servants surprisingly greeted you respectfully. This was the first time vampires had ever looked at you like you weren’t food. Well, Sylus too, but that was different.

You ate alone in the grand hall, the dining table was way too big and felt oddly uncomfortable. After that, you explored his castle, ceilings, tapestries, the strange quiet of a place built for power but filled with loneliness. 

You found yourself wondering where Sylus had disappeared. What he was doing. If he was with someone…

You ended up in the royal gardens around sunset and they were breathtaking. He had all sorts of unique plants and flowers you’ve never seen before. 

You reached out to touch a petal of one flower that caught your attention, but his voice stopped you.

“Careful,” he warned, approaching you with his hands behind his back. “This one is poisonous.”

You startled. “Your Highness.” 

He shook his head. “There’s no need for formalities or pretense. You said it yourself, I’m not your king.”

You narrowed your eyes for a moment before nodding. This was better than having to keep pretending.

“Have you been…enjoying your day?”

“Yes. Your home is beautiful, but…”

He raised a brow. “But?”

“It’s lonely. It feels so empty. Cold.”

“That’s the price you pay for immortality when you have no one to share it with,” he said simply, as if he’d grown accustomed to it.

You swallowed. “I have been thinking about your offer. It’s… a good one.”

“But it is one that would bind you to me for your entire life,” he reminded you.

“Yes. However, here I’d have safety, stability, and,... maybe one day, love. That’s more than most humans can dream of, considering how your kind rules the night and roams the streets.”

His jaw clenched. “True. Being by my side would eliminate those threats. But are you truly sure you want to spend the rest of your life with me?”

“I would still have my freedom, right?”

He exhaled. “Is any of us truly free?” 

When you didn’t answer, he continued, “I could tell you you’d be free to do whatever you want, but that would be a lie. If you stay here, there would be certain rules you’d have to adhere to. And while yes, in a physical sense you may roam the castle as you wish, that’s not the case for the outside world. Once you step outside my castle, my kingdom, I cannot guarantee your safety, which is something I have vowed to do if you accept the deal. So, while I’m not restricting you from venturing out, I would require that I know every time you leave, and that you take some of my trusted subordinates with you.”

You considered for a moment, his words sinking in. “Fine. I can live with that.”

“Y/n…”

“What? Are you,” you searched his eyes, “hesitating?”

“No. But I want you to be certain. I don’t want you to rush into this. It’s a lifelong commitment for a mortal.”

“I know. And as a ‘mortal’, I can tell you it's the best deal I’d ever get. You know it’s true. So tell me, how do we do this?” Whatever doubt you had before last night suddenly disappeared, just like magic.

He relented. “Alright. But you won’t like the ritual.”

You looked up at him, waiting for an explanation.

“The ritual requires you to drink my blood, and I yours, ending with a kiss to seal the vow.”

You grimaced, not because he had to sink his fangs into your skin again, but because you had to drink blood.

“Alright. How much blood are we talking about?”

“Not a drop,” he said dryly. “If that’s what you’re hoping for.” 

Then he cut his wrist and lifted it to your mouth. “Drink.”

You obeyed, lips sealing around his skin as you drew his blood onto your tongue. His fingers slid into your hair gently, stroking as if grounding you while you drank. “That’s enough.”

You pulled back, breath unsteady, his blood trailing down your chin. His thumb caught it slowly, smearing it across your mouth before he leaned back to look at you, eyes dark, intent, as if committing the sight to memory. Then, he leaned down, whispering, “You look better like this. Marked with my blood.”

The next thing you knew, he sank his fangs into you again, a quiet gasp escaping you as your nails gripped his shoulders. It didn’t take long for him to drink before finally sealing the ritual with his blood-stained lips crashing against yours. 

Your blood, breath, and saliva mixing as the two of you became bound.

“Now you’re mine. And I’m yours,” he whispered against your lips before devouring your mouth.

The ritual’s final kiss didn’t break. It deepened. He cupped your face with a gentle command, tilting your head back to taste more of your soft mouth. His silver-white hair tumbled forward as he pressed closer.

You felt the cool brush of his fangs when he broke the kiss only to trail his mouth along your jaw to your neck. He paused, breath warm on your skin. “May I?” Sylus whispered. Even lost in desire, he waited for your consent. 

At your breathless nod, he let out a shuddering sigh of relief. In one swift motion, he lifted you onto the marble gazebo’s edge, strong hands sliding along your thighs as you wrapped them around his waist.

His hands moved with deliberate care, sliding over your arms, skimming bare skin as he loosened the fabric inch by inch. Each clasp undone sent a shiver down your spine. When your dress finally slipped from your shoulders, revealing a hint of your breasts, he paused again.

You helped him next, fingers trembling as they traced the buttons of his coat, easing it open. He let you, watching you move, until his coat fell to the ground.

He pressed his forehead to yours, taking a deep breath before speaking again, “Come with me.”

He didn’t rush you. He guided you, fingers laced with yours, leading you from the garden, past stone corridors warmed by torchlight, up into the quiet of his bedroom.

The chamber was dim, lit by candlelight. He turned to you before the bed, eyes searching your face. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You didn’t answer with words. Your hands rose instead, trembling only slightly as you touched the front of his tunic. He stilled, watching you closely as you undid it piece by piece, fabric parting beneath your fingers. When your touch faltered, his hands covered yours, guiding, steadying, until his shirt fell away.

He reached for the remaining ties of your dress slowly. The fabric loosened inch by inch, slipping down your breasts under his careful hands. His knuckles brushed your bare skin and lingered there for a moment. When the gown finally pooled at your feet, his breath changed.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, not as praise, but as fact.

He eased you down onto the mattress and followed, his knee pressing gently between your legs, urging them to part as his weight settled close.

He finally aligned himself against your warm entrance, holding your gaze with those intense eyes as he guided himself forward.  A breathless gasp tumbled from your lips as he slowly filled you, inch by torturous inch. He moved with controlled strength, letting you feel every bit of him without ever slamming or rushing. Your body arched to meet his, as large hands slid to your hips, steadying you. 

He watched you intently, attentive to your every need, he adjusted his angle with a slight shift of his hips, drawing a startled cry from you as he hit that perfect spot inside. A satisfied smile ghosted across his lips at your reaction. 

The sensation was maddeningly exquisite: he would withdraw almost completely, the emptiness making you whine softly in protest, only to plunge back in with that same deliberate depth, drawing a trembling moan from deep in your throat. 

Your hands slid up to grasp at his biceps, feeling them flex and tense under your palms with each restrained movement. 

One of his hands captured your wrists when you began to writhe too desperately. He pinned them gently above your head, pressing them into the pillows. His thumb caressed the inside of your wrist in a soothing stroke. 

“Easy,” he murmured, the word soft yet commanding. 

You yielded completely, wrapping your legs around his waist to draw him even closer. The new angle sent a bolt of raw pleasure through you both, and Sylus hissed a breath between his teeth, his composure flickering as your inner walls clenched around him. 

For just a heartbeat, his restraint nearly slipped, his next thrust was harder, driving into you with a force that bordered on rough. A broken cry spilled from your lips at the sudden intensity, pleasure and a hint of pain blurring together. Realizing how fiercely his desire had surged, Sylus forced himself to still, buried deep inside you while you quivered around him. With a ragged exhale, he pressed a tender kiss to your parted lips, an unspoken apology and reassurance all in one. 

“Alright?” he asked softly. 

You nodded and whispered a breathless “Yes… please, don’t stop.”

Sylus’s lips curved in a faint smile against your mouth, and he resumed his motions, returning to that deep, rolling rhythm that made your toes curl.

His gaze drifted to the delicate column of your throat, where a single bead of sweat trickled down. The pulse there fluttered wildly with your excitement. Sylus felt his fangs ache with need. He had held off this long, determined to put your pleasure first, but the hunger was growing, intertwining with the pleasure in a dizzying mix.

Bowing his head, he brushed aside your hair to bare the smooth curve of your neck. He kissed you there, slowly, sensually, a silent warning and a request. You tilted your head in wordless consent, exposing more of yourself to him, and he did not miss the way your body tightened eagerly around him in response. 

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised against your skin.

On the next thrust, as he filled you to the hilt, Sylus finally gave in to his darker desire. His fangs sank into your neck with careful precision. He stilled inside you, holding you tight as your blood flowed over his tongue. His arm slipped beneath the arch of your back, cradling you against his chest as he drank. There was a strange, hypnotic bliss in yielding so completely, in feeling his mouth at your throat, knowing he was taking sustenance from you even as he gave you ecstasy in return.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pain and pleasure twined tightly together; each time he drew on your vein, a responsive throb clenched around the hardness he kept buried inside you. 

Sylus growled softly against your neck at that exquisite squeeze, Instinctively, your hips rolled, urging him to move, to keep taking you. He answered with a slow grind of his hips, stirring a fresh wave of sensation deep in your core, even as he continued to drink in measured pulls.

Pleasure was building rapidly now, and he could feel it in the way your body tightened. 

He forced himself to be gentle, even now, when his own desire was roaring in his veins. His inner demon snarled for more, more blood, more thrusts, more of you. But he held it on a tight leash. His free hand found yours and he interlaced your fingers, grounding both of you in that moment of shared connection. 

He drank until he sensed your pulse quicken even further, a sign both of your arousal peaking and the need to stop before he took too much. Reluctantly, he retracted his fangs, sealing his lips over the bite marks as he withdrew. His tongue swept over the small wounds, a soothing caress that staunched the blood. 

He raised his head to look at you then, licking the last trace of crimson from his lips.

With a deep groan, he began to move again in earnest. The leisurely pace he’d maintained finally fractured under the tide of shared lust. He didn’t fully unleash, even now there was a remarkable control in the way he drove into you, but his thrusts were harder and deeper.

The relentless friction and the throbbing aftershocks of the bite finally sent you tumbling over the edge. Sylus held you as you fell apart, capturing your moan with his mouth in a fierce, passionate kiss. 

Your release triggered his own. With a ragged growl into your mouth, Sylus thrust one final time, plunging as far as he could go and spilling himself deep inside you. He broke the kiss only to press his forehead to yours, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. For a long moment, neither of you moved. 

Eventually, he carefully eased himself from your body, drawing a mutual gasp at the sensitivity, and then settled by your side on the rumpled sheets.

 Immediately, he gathered you against him, cradling your head to his chest. He tilted your chin gently, inspecting the small puncture wounds with visible concern despite how minor they were. A remorseful flicker crossed his face, as if worried he’d hurt you, but you just gave him a sated, lazy smile to reassure him. Leaning in, he placed a soft, open-mouthed kiss over the marks, his tongue darting out to lave the tender skin. 

Finally, he relaxed fully, laying back against the pillows and drew half your body on top of him, enveloping your smaller form in his arms. He shifted just enough to pull the blankets around you, cocooning you in warmth. You felt his lips press to your forehead. 

Completely spent and blissful, you closed your eyes. In his arms, you knew you were cherished and protected, the dark fiend’s beloved, held safe until sleep claimed you both.

You wanted to test the specifics of the vampire lore and for some reason Sylus agreed. He didn't expect it to be like this. Surely the rules forbidding him from entering without permission didn't apply here. Especially when what really mattered here was phrasing.

And now here he was, pinned beneath you as you straddled him, his hands gripping your hips tightly and his aching cock buried deep inside you. And you...you were the master of his torture at this moment. The way you were riding him so slowly was killing him. His eyes were shut tight, his head fallen back against the couch, mouth dropped open and his fangs glistened in the moonlight as heavy breaths escaped his parted lips.

"My darling...please...I...I don't know how much longer I can...take this!" He panted. His long slender fingers gripped the plump flesh of your ass, his sharp nails stinging as they pierced your skin. You chuckled and rolled your hips against his. "C'mon Sylus...my big, strong vampire lover can't handle some teasing?" Sylus growled and glared at you. "This is definitely....m-more than teasing, sweetie." You giggled and sped your hips up for what felt like the hundredth time. Sylus's back arched as he gasped and moaned loudly. "F-fuck! Oh c'mon, angel...how long are you going to torture me like this?"

Not only were you denying him release, but you had bribed him with something precious: your blood. You promised that if he held out long enough, you'd let him drink from you. It wouldn't be the first time but Sylus often held back, afraid he wouldn't be able to stop himself and hurt you.

You rocked back and forth, the wet sounds echoing throughout the room. You yourself had already cum a few times but you wanted to see just how much Sylus could take before he became a whimpering, begging mess. "Do you think you've earned it yet, Sylus?" You teased. His ruby eyes stared into yours, pleading for mercy. "Please, my love. I've been so good for you. I...I need it...please-ah!" His voice cut off with a whine as you clenched around him. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and his eyes rolled back. You hummed in satisfaction and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. "You have been good, I'll admit. I think you deserve something for that." Gripping his chin, you tilted his head forward so he was looking at you. "I want you to bite me when you cum, Sylus. I wanna feel you fill me up while you're drinking from me, baby." Your voice was firm and Sylus loved it. He shuddered and nodded weakly. "Can I please cum inside now, kitten?" He begged, his eyes sparkling with desire. You grinned and kissed him before exposing your neck to him. "Yes, my love. Cum inside and take what you want from me." You breathed, bracing yourself.

Sylus groaned and sunk his teeth into your neck. You cried out but kept your hips moving as fast as you could. Your vision blurred as the pain quickly turned into pleasure. His cock was hitting perfectly inside you and you felt yourself approaching another orgasm. "Fuck I-I'm gonna cum again, Sylus!" You moaned. He groaned against your skin, his mind going fuzzy at the taste of your blood mixed with the warmth of you on his cock. He held you tightly against him as he bounced you on his lap. "Cum with me, my darling." He murmured against your skin before latching back onto your neck. You both moaned loudly as you tumbled over the edge of pleasure together.

Your nails scraped against the surface of the desk as your eyes burned a hole into the ceiling while another moan was pulled from your lips. Strong arms were looped around your legs, keeping them apart and pinned in place while a tongue lapped at your cunt in slow, methodical movements. “Please,” you begged. “Go faster.” 

His movements ceased for a moment, allowing a few small tuts to be heard before he continued at the same agonizing pace. The tip of the man’s tongue rolled over your clit, sending a sharp pang of pleasure up your body, causing your legs to quiver beneath his hold. Sylus was biding his time with you, tasting all that he could before ruining you, however, he was beginning to find difficulty in his pace. 

Your eyes tore away from the ceiling to look down at him, but all you could see was the fabric of your dress shifting as his head moved beneath it. All of a sudden, his nose rubbed against your bundle of nerves as his tongue delved in between your folds to lick at your insides. The sudden action pulled another moan from your throat while also causing your back to arch from the surge of pleasure that flooded your body further. 

Sylus’ pace quickened, his head bobbing faster the harder his tongue lapped at your insides. He was losing control and falling deeper into his desires, but you never noticed. You were too focused on how good everything felt. The way his nose constantly nudged against your clit, the shake of your legs, and the bubbling of the pleasure that built up within your core. Release wasn’t too far away now, and you hung your head back and released another breathy moan before closing your eyes. “Yes, yes,” you whispered. A small chant that only served to spur him on even more. Faster, faster, so close, so close, almost there, and—. 

The white-hot pleasure you so desperately awaited never came, and the bubbling in your core ebbed away when he suddenly unhooked his arms from around your thighs and stood up. Your eyes snapped open as your confusion etched itself on your face, and your eyes met his shortly after realization hit, and your parted lips closed the second he spoke. 

“Against the window.” It was a demand, and your body obeyed without a single hint of hesitation. Sliding off the polished oak, and with legs a bit shaky from the earlier pleasure, you moved towards the bay window within the study. With knees pressed into the plush pillows beneath you, and hands firmly planted against the glass in front of you, your eyes glanced over your shoulder and at him. “Face forward, kitten, and keep your legs apart,” he instructed. 

Again, your body listened without fail, and your legs parted as the soft clinking of a buckle rang in your ears. A shaky breath fell from your lips when his chest pressed against your back, moving you further up and against the glass window. Sylus’ hands started at your shoulders, with his fingers slipping beneath the fabric and slowly tugging it down before pressing his lips against the soft skin. Tender kisses trailed from the back of your right shoulder and up your neck the more he peeled your dress down, only ceasing when your tits finally spilled out. 

“Pretty girl,” he whispered. His lips parted as his tongue slid out and licked a thick stripe from your pulse point up to the lobe of your ear, earning a soft mewl from you. Sylus chuckled as an arm slid around your waist, allowing his large hand to cup a breast while the other slid to his pants, freeing his cock from the confines of the fabric. His index finger and thumb tweaked at the nipple, toying with the perky nub until it pebbled. The other hand began to slowly pump himself for a moment, and he groaned softly at the ache that clawed within his abdomen. 

Sylus then gave your nipple a harsh pinch, causing you to cry out from the mixture of pleasure and slight pain before he moved it lower to hike your dress up around your hips. His body shifted behind you, eventually squishing your tits against the window as he aligned the head of his cock with your entrance. Realization quickly flashed in your head. “Wait—.” 

The rest of your sentence turned into a sharp gasp when his hips thrusted forward, burying his cock inside your warm cunt inch by inch. Your nails scraped against the glass in an attempt to quell the burning stretch caused by his sheer size. Sylus didn’t whisper any sort of apology as he repeatedly snapped his hips against you, groaning softly in your ear each time your gummy walls pulled at him when he slid back. Greedy little thing, he mused. 

Your head shifted to the side, with your cheek shoved against the glass as moans spilled from your lips the more his cock bullied your slick hole. Sylus watched your eyes grow heavy with lust, half-lidding the more he fucked into you, and he soon pressed his face against your neck. Your delicious scent wafted through his nose, filling him with a different type of need, and it only grew when hearing how wildly your heart thumped in your chest. 

Blood was pumping, and he couldn’t hold himself back any longer—not that he planned to that night. His tongue lapped at the soft flesh covering your pulse point before allowing his fangs to scrape against the skin. Your gasp didn’t go unheard, and he kept you still and in place before letting his fangs dig against your skin once more, this time drawing blood. A primal growl rumbled in his throat the moment the sweet substance touched his tongue. His fingers dug into your hips, holding your wriggling body as still as possible while he both fucked and fed on you. 

The sensation burned at first, what with the way his fangs tore small bits of flesh to procure the sweet ambrosial substance within, however, the burning ebbed away, having been replaced by a soothing and pleasurable warmth that blanketed your body. With your body more pliant now, Sylus continued with his feeding, all while pumping his cock deeper inside you. 

You moaned at the delicious sensation as the pleasure licked at your core. The familiar feeling returned, and your walls squeezed around him the closer it came for you. The vampire groaned again before moving his arms around your waist, hugging you tightly against him while also keeping you up against the window. Sylus knew you were reaching the end, and so was he. His cock twitched inside of you each time your walls squeezed around him, coaxing him to simply let go, but he didn’t. Not yet. Not until he heard you say it. His lips detached from your neck as he moved to your ear. 

“Say it,” he growled. “Tell me that you want it inside, kitten.” 

His length shoved itself back into the warm embrace of your cunt, earning a sharp moan from your pretty lips. “Want it,” you replied. “I need it.” The slight whine in your voice was all he needed to finally let himself come undone. 

Sylus’ arms tightened around your waist as he fucked into you one last time, burying himself as deep as possible before spilling into you, painting your insides white with cum. It was enough to finally drive you over the edge. Your sharp cry pierced his ears as your release finally came, causing your legs and thighs to shake against him before going slack. 

“Good girl,” he praised. While still inside of you, the vampire shifted his body around, lifting you up against him as he sat down on the pillows in the bottom of the bay window. Once situated, Sylus carefully maneuvered you around until your chest laid against his. You were worn out, he could tell, and he placed a hand to your neck before letting his thumb gently rub against the spot he fed from. His lips soon curled into a slight smirk as you drifted off on top of him.