#vampire gerard

2/4 - vampire gerard

vampire gerard ( ´ཀ` )

thank you for being the sweetest anon ever! i loved your request, it was my first time writing a vampire gerard fic, so i'm a little nervous, but i hope you like it.

cherry wine

title: cherry wine - hozier

pairing: vampire!gerard way x reader

word count: 9.329

The silence of the fourth-floor hallway had always been Gerard's greatest ally, and for decades the old building had served as the perfect hiding place. No one asked questions, no one paid enough attention to notice that the years passed, the seasons changed, but his features remained the same as they had been the day his heart stopped beating.

The walk home had been long, he kept his hands buried deep in the pockets of his dark coat, his eyes fixed on his own shoes as he climbed the wooden steps. As he approached his floor, the echo of hurried footsteps and the dragging sound of packing tape cut through the environment.

Gerard stopped at the top of the staircase; the hallway was illuminated by the open door of apartment 42. Cardboard boxes were stacked against the peeling wall, there was a new smell in the air, something like strawberries, laundry soap, and the unmistakable warmth of a living pulse.

Then, he saw you.

Gerard froze for a second, his hair was slightly tousled from the walk, his pale skin contrasting with the shadows of the hallway, and for a moment he completely forgot how to act like a normal human being.

You had your back turned, trying to balance a considerably large box that seemed about to tear open at the bottom. When the sound of his interrupted footsteps caught your attention, you turned around. The world around Gerard seemed to slow down in a way he hadn't experienced in decades.

You wiped your forehead with the back of your free hand, breathing slightly breathless, and looked at him. Far from showing fear at the sight of that pale, silent figure standing at the beginning of the hallway, your cheeks took on a rosy tint of pure relief.

"Hi! Sorry about the mess in the middle of the hall," you said, your voice echoing softly against the brick walls. You set the box down on the floor carefully, letting out a long sigh. "I really thought I'd be able to finish bringing everything before midnight, but I clearly underestimated the weight of my own books."

Gerard remained standing there, his mind racing at a thousand miles an hour, trying to formulate an answer that sounded human, but he only nodded slightly. You took a step forward, pointing to a medium-sized but visibly bulging box near his feet.

"Would you mind giving me a hand with just this one? It's the heaviest of them all, and I think if I try to lift it one more time, my arms are just going to fall off."

The request was simple, a common courtesy between neighbors. Gerard knew exactly how he was supposed to act: walk slowly, show a bit of physical strain, maybe let out a soft grunt to disguise the weight, and carry the object into your apartment like any guy in his twenties would.

Instead, his mind was too busy trying to process the sound of your heart and the magnetism of your smile. He walked toward you in automatic steps, and, in a gross error of judgment caused by the total distraction of his senses, Gerard simply forgot to pretend.

He gripped the sides of the box and lifted it in a single motion, to his altered biological strength, the weight of dozens of thick hardcover books was equivalent to that of a feather. He raised the package to chest height without his muscles so much as contracting and without his breathing changing.

Gerard took two steps into your apartment and set the box gently down on the hardwood floor, turning back around with the intention of asking where you wanted the rest placed, but the sentence died in his throat when he looked at your face.

You were frozen, your eyes were wide, darting between the heavy box on the floor and his thin arms beneath the dark coat. You knew what was in there, you had spent the last hour dragging that load across the floor because you could barely budge it, and you had just watched him lift it as easily as someone picking up a fallen leaf. The silence that settled over the room was deafening, the crack of reality struck Gerard's mind like an electric shock.

Damn, he had given himself away…

"I... I have to go," he stammered, his voice coming out lower and harsher than he intended.

Without waiting and without giving you time to form a single question, Gerard spun on his heels. He crossed the hallway in seconds, his steps quick and nearly silent, he pulled the key from his pocket with trembling fingers and went inside.

Gerard spent the next two days following that first night locked inside his apartment, he knew, with the clarity of someone who had lived far too long and made enough mistakes, that the only rational choice was to keep his distance. The overwhelming magnetism he had felt the moment your eyes met his was a dangerous, urgent warning that the barriers he had built were under an invisible assault.

Still, the silence of his apartment felt heavier now, impregnated by an uncomfortable expectation. Every rhythmic beat of your heart, perfectly audible to him in the deep quiet of the early morning, acted like an invisible metronome dictating the pace of his new and involuntary obsession.

On Thursday morning, the sun had barely begun to lighten the city's cloudy horizon, and Gerard decided it was time to fetch the mail and check the security of the exterior lock, a mechanical routine he kept up solely to maintain appearances.

When he carefully turned the key and opened the heavy door, his eyes immediately dropped to the hallway floor, drawn by something that broke the visual monotony of the welcome mat.

There, right in the center, was a small wicker basket, carefully covered with a clean dish towel. Even before he bent down to touch it, Gerard’s extremely keen senses were violently overwhelmed. To any ordinary person passing by, it would have been nothing more than the inviting scent of freshly baked treats from a talented neighbor, but to him, whose taste buds had been completely inactive and insensitive to ordinary food for decades, that scent should have been nothing more than irritating smoke or meaningless dust, but it wasn’t.

Gerard slowly crouched down and, with the utmost care, unfolded the small piece of textured paper and began to read, letting the words echo in his mind in the soft tone of voice he remembered hearing the other night:

"Hi, neighbor from 43! I didn't get a chance to thank you properly the other night, before you vanished like a real ghost down the hallway (and I'm still trying to figure out how you lifted that box without even breaking a sweat or batting an eye, I swear to God!).

As a sincere way of thanking you for your help with the move and for making sure my back was completely intact the next day, I baked these chocolate cookies. I really hope you like them!

By the way, I’m (Y/N). Since we’ll be sharing this hallway for quite a while, I thought it would be a good idea for us to officially introduce ourselves, even if it’s just through a note.

Have a great day!"

Gerard reread the note three times in a row until the words were etched into his unchanging memory. (Y/N). Now, at last, he knew her name. You, on the other hand, remained in complete darkness; you knew absolutely nothing about him, not even his name.

He picked up the basket with both hands and stepped back into his apartment, silently closing the door with his heel. Gerard pulled the cloth aside, revealing the contents of the basket.

The first reaction was immediate and absolute rejection, he did not need to eat anything other than blood, more than that, he must not ingest human food. His system would reject ordinary organic matter a few hours later, resulting in a deeply uncomfortable physical sickness that served as a biological reminder that he no longer belonged to that order of creation.

He reached out and picked up one of the cookies, holding it between his thumb and index finger. He took three steps toward the trash can, his mind focused on the necessity of cutting any bond before it grew too strong, but something invisible and incredibly powerful made him stop in the middle of the pass.

Gerard let out a long sigh, a purely human and unconscious habit he maintained only when he found himself in a state of deep internal frustration, he looked at the cookie in his pale hand and then at the note on the table.

Just one piece, he thought, trying to bargain with his own rigid nature. Just a small bite to quiet this stupid, childish curiosity, and then I'll throw the rest away.

He brought the cookie to his lips and took a bite.

What happened in the very next fraction of a second caused Gerard’s hazel pupils to dilate violently, his whole body locked into an absolute rigidity, his muscles freezing in the exact position they were in, while the piece of cookie began to dissolve against his tongue. There was no characteristic taste of ashes, there was no uncomfortable texture of dry sand or dirt.

For the first time in so many decades that he could barely count, he felt, with shocking and almost painful clarity, the depth and sweetness of caramelized brown sugar. It wasn’t just the flavor itself; it was the full sensation of that flavor.

That was impossible, given what he knew about himself! Biologically speaking, according to all the laws of physics and the curse that ran through his blood, that should never have happened. Human food had neither energy nor flavor for the dead, it was nothing but ashes.

Yet there he was, leaning against the table in his dark kitchen, chewing with an almost reverent slowness, feeling his eyes burn from a sudden, overwhelming wave of pure human nostalgia.

The night had begun like any other in Gerard's unalterable routine: he had crossed the dark, damp streets of the city toward Central Hospital, using the shadows and his long-standing contacts to carry out another one of his nightly blood harvests.

The early morning air was biting as he began to walk back toward the building; he walked with his eyes fixed on the ground, his mind wandering between the lines of the drawings he intended to finish and the lingering memory of the sweet taste of the cookies, which still seemed to haunt his sleepy palate. It was just as he turned the corner leading to the apartment buildings that his senses, always alert, picked up on something that made his heart skip a beat.

Two blocks away, beneath the faulty illumination of a rhythmically flickering streetlight, he saw you. Gerard stopped dead in his tracks, his silhouette blending into the darkness of an alley, his pupils dilated. It was considerably late for you to be out on the street alone.

Before he could formulate a single thought, a man stepped out from behind a closed newsstand, his steps were quick and predatory. It took very little effort for Gerard to hear the man's uneven breathing and the metallic click of something being pulled from his coat pocket.

The logic that governed Gerard’s existence screamed in his head: do not interfere, humans were constantly susceptible to this kind of situation; violence, danger, and fragility were part of the mortal ecosystem. To intervene meant exposing the secret he had guarded with his life for decades, the world was full of daily tragedies, and he was no savior.

But all that cold rationality crumbled into dust the second he heard your frightened gasp and the magnetism that had pulled him toward you since the first day transformed into a blind, territorial fury.

Gerard didn't think, he simply acted.

With superhuman speed that tore through the night air, he moved and, in a fraction of a second, covered the distance of two blocks, leaving behind nothing but the echo of the wind. The mugger barely had time to open his mouth to say anything, before the blade could even come close to his skin, when Gerard’s slender figure materialized between them.

With a fluid, violent motion, he grabbed the man’s wrist and, using only a fraction of his strength, shoved him away. The impact was so brutal that the assailant’s body was hurled through the air, crossing the street and crashing into a trash can on the other side of the block, before he scrambled to his feet and fled in a state of total panic, with no idea what had struck him.

Gerard stood with his back to you, his shoulders rising and falling heavily as he tried to quiet the predatory instinct roaring in his veins. He was focused on ensuring the man was gone and, because of this, he didn't realize that in the split second he had intercepted the attack, the tip of the man's knife had torn through the fabric of his sweater, slicing a deep gash into his left forearm.

You were paralyzed against the wall, your heart beating so fast and loud that Gerard could hear the sound echoing in his own chest. Your hands were trembling, and your eyes were wide with pure desperation and adrenaline.

"Gerard...?" you stammered, your voice failing. "How... how did you do that? Where did you come from?"

Somehow you had found out his name, perhaps by asking another neighbor. Hearing the sound of your voice as you said his name made the adrenaline surge even more strongly through his lifeless body.

"Are you alright? Did he touch you?" His voice came out rasper and deeper than usual, the tone of concern evident.

You tried to focus your gaze on him, but as your eyes traveled down his figure, they stopped at his left arm. The brown fabric of his sweater was torn from side to side, revealing the pale skin of his forearm. There was a clean cut there, a deep rent in the skin that should have been bleeding alarmingly, but nothing was coming out.

The terror of the mugging was instantly replaced by a frightening confusion, you took a step forward, forgetting the danger of seconds ago, your eyes locked onto the dry wound.

"Gerard... your arm," you whispered, pointing with a trembling finger. "You're cut. Why... why aren't you bleeding? How is that possible?"

Gerard looked down at his own arm for the first time, seeing the dry cut exposed under the streetlight, an even sharper chill washed down his spine. Damn it. He had made the worst possible mistake. He had no way to justify this.

He hurriedly pulled down the sleeve of his sweater, hiding the wound from your sight, and took a step back, trying to re-establish the safe distance he never should have broken.

"It's nothing," he said, his voice sharp, his eyes locking onto yours in an attempt to deflect the subject. "You shouldn't be out here alone at this time of night (Y/N), it's dangerous. What were you thinking?!"

"Gerard, don't try to change the subject!" your voice rising a notch, mixing the fear of what you had just experienced with total incomprehension of what you were seeing. "I saw the man with the knife, I saw you appear out of nowhere. And now your arm is cut open and there's no blood! What is going on here? Who are you?"

He could feel the genuine confusion radiating from you, he wanted to explain, he wanted to soothe you somehow, but the truth was a death sentence for any closeness between them.

"Let's go back to the building," he limited himself to saying, his tone taking on a cold authority he used to mask his own panic. "We are not talking in the middle of a deserted street."

Leaving no room for further questions, he began to walk, keeping a pace you could keep up with, but without looking back. You followed him, still trembling, your mind racing.

When you finally entered the lobby and climbed the wooden staircase to the fourth floor, the sound of the creaking steps seemed louder than ever. You opened your mouth to ask the questions again, determined to get an answer to what seemed impossible, and to what you had witnessed on the street, but Gerard was quicker: he reached out his pale hand and gently pushed open the door to his apartment.

"Go inside, (Y/N). Lock the door from the inside and get some rest," he said, his voice dropping to a soft but definitive whisper.

"Gerard, please, explain to me..." you pleaded, taking a step toward him, your eyes begging for a logic that made sense.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he cut in, his lips tightening into a thin line.

Before you could protest, he entered his apartment and closed the door, turning the key in the lock twice with a sharp click that decreed the end of the conversation.

Inside, Gerard leaned his back against the door and slid down to the wooden floor, just as he had done on the first night. He pulled his legs up to his chest and buried his face between his knees, letting out a bitter, hollow laugh in the darkness of his empty room.

He was in trouble, in a monumental mess from which he simply didn’t know how to escape. The right course of action would be to pack the few bags he had and disappear in search of another city. He’d done this before, several times over the decades, whenever someone began to realize that he didn’t age. Disappearing was easy and it was what he did best.

But as he felt the echo of your racing heartbeat through the wall, Gerard realized, with a painful tightening in his chest, that he simply couldn't leave, he couldn't stay away. He was locked into your orbit, and the darkness he harbored was about to collide irremediably with your world.

Gerard spent the next days turning his own existence into an absolute exercise in invisibility. He monitored every sound coming from your apartment; if he heard the jingle of your keys indicating that you were leaving, he stepped away from the door. If he caught your light footsteps coming up the stairs, he turned off all the lights and suppressed his own presence.

Everything was going strictly according to plan: if he acted like a complete ghost, your human mind, programmed to seek the comfort of logic, would eventually begin to treat that violent night as an adrenaline-fueled blur.

It was a Monday night, Gerard was lying on his bed with the dark sheets perfectly aligned, given that he never slept or used the furniture for its intended biological purpose. The silence of the bedroom was abruptly shattered by a deafening crash, the floor beneath the building's framework trembled slightly as a violent thunderclap ripped through the sky, signaling the start of a severe storm.

He loved nights like this, the sound of heavy rain pelting against the old windowpanes created a perfect acoustic curtain, isolating him even further from the outside world. Until, in the middle of a flash of lightning, the low hum of the building's ancient wiring ceased, the hallway emergency lights flickered and died. The entire building was plunged into the most absolute, dense pitch-blackness.

About ten minutes later, his hearing caught hesitant footsteps in the hallway, footsteps he knew by heart; they stopped right in front of his door.

Knock, knock, knock.

Gerard sat up in bed in a fluid motion, he hesitated for three seconds, his self-preservation instinct fighting a losing battle against the thing that always pulled him toward you. He stood up, walked barefoot and soundlessly to the entrance, and turned the key.

When the door swung open, he found you. You were holding a small candle whose flame flickered violently in the hallway's draft, and your eyes were wide.

"Gerard... please," you said, your voice shaking slightly, nearly swallowed by the roar of the storm. "I know you're avoiding me, but... the power is out everywhere, and I have a horrible fear of being in the dark alone. Can I... can I just stay here with you until the lights come back on? I promise I won't ask any questions."

Looking at you standing there, vulnerable, dismantled every barrier Gerard had spent the last few days building. He stepped back from the threshold, making room.

"Come in," he said softly.

You rushed inside, letting out an audible sigh of relief as he closed and locked the door behind you. Gerard’s apartment was completely dark, lit only by the occasional flashes of lightning that streaked across the living room window.

"You can put the candle on the coffee table," Gerard directed, gesturing toward the living room with a calm motion.

You walked over to the sofa and set the candle down, Gerard sat in the opposite armchair, keeping his arms crossed over his chest, watching you curl up on the edge of the couch.

The silence that settled between you wasn't the comfortable quiet of before, it was a heavy silence, where the sound of the rain seemed to build an invisible wall isolating you from the rest of the universe.

You stared at the candle flame, but your eyes frequently drifted back to him, to his pale hands, to the almost supernatural stillness, none of the subtle shifting humans do when they breathe.

"You didn't light a candle before I knocked," you murmured, breaking the ice, curiosity finally winning over your fear of the dark. "You were just sitting here in total darkness…"

"I don't mind the lack of light much," Gerard replied, choosing his words with care. "My eyes adjust easily."

You let out a short laugh, though there was no humor in it. You leaned forward a bit more, the candlelight illuminating half of your face.

"Gerard... we've spent the last few days acting like two strangers, but I can't get that night out of my head. I know what I saw. I tried to convince myself that my mind was playing tricks on me because of the shock, but... it wasn't."

You paused, your eyes locked onto his, waiting for him to deny it, but Gerard only continued to look at you, his expression weary, understanding that there was no running away anymore.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, letting out a long sigh that seemed to carry the weight of centuries of secrets. He looked up at the ceiling, then down at his own hands, and let out a nervous, genuinely bewildered chuckle at the situation.

"Okay..." he began, his voice cracking slightly before settling into its raspy tone. "I don't know how to tell you this without you fainting on my couch or running out into the storm, but... fine. I can’t believe I’m going to do that... I'm a vampire."

He shot the sentence out all at once, tensing his shoulders and closing his eyes for a split second, mentally bracing himself for the collapse.

Gerard slowly opened his eyes, you were still in the same position on the couch, you blinked twice, trying to process what he’d said, but your expression didn’t betray any panic. Your eyebrows merely rose slightly, and you let out a muffled “Oh,” as if he’d just explained that he had a rare food allergy or that the ceiling of his apartment had a chronic leak.

Your calmness in the face of the greatest, most terrifying secret of his life was enough to leave him speechless. He leaned forward a bit more, resting his elbows on his knees, allowing the flickering candlelight to make the contours of his cheekbones appear even sharper.

"It's not just that, (Y/N), " his voice dropping to a confidential tone, a raspy whisper that felt too heavy. "There's... there's something happening since the second you stepped down those stairs with your moving boxes. Since you arrived, everything I know about my own existence has been turned upside down."

You shifted subtly on the couch, curiosity gleaming in your eyes as you watched his hesitation.

"What do you mean? " you asked, your voice soft, encouraging him to go on.

Gerard looked away for a brief moment, focusing on the candle’s flame before meeting your eyes again. He seemed almost ashamed of what he was about to admit, as if revealing that weakness were more dangerous than confessing he was a monster.

"I haven't tasted anything, nothing at all, for decades," he explained, holding out one pale hand in the air, gesturing vaguely. "When we are turned, our senses change, we become excellent predators, but the human world... it dies to us. Ordinary food loses all meaning, my body rejects it, my palate doesn't register it."

He paused dramatically, his eyes locked onto yours, observing how you absorbed that information.

"But… when I ate your cookies…” his voice faltered slightly. “It was different. For the first time in so many decades that I can hardly count them, I tasted something. I tasted the sweetness… I felt everything with a clarity that terrified me. It was as if a part of my brain that had been dead and buried had suddenly been struck by lightning."

You blinked, surprised by the intensity of his account.

"You… did you taste my food?" you murmured, trying to process the information. "But why would that be strange? I mean, if you’re a vampire, maybe the rules aren’t that strict after all?"

Gerard let out a dry, humorless laugh, shaking his head.

"No, you don't understand, the rules are that strict. They are absolute," he emphasized, the urgency returning to his tone. "I was terrified when I finished eating, I thought that by some biological miracle, my body was changing, or the curse was weakening. So, that very night, I went out, I went to a twenty-four-hour bakery downtown."

He winced involuntarily, the memory clearly bringing physical discomfort.

"Do you know what the result was? Horrible! It tasted like dry dirt, I nearly threw up right there on the sidewalk. I tried other things later... fruit, coffee, bread. All the same." He focused intensely on you again. "Only with you, (Y/N), only with what comes from you the rules of my nature simply seem to stop working."

You watched him, your chin still resting on your hand, feeling the weight of the connection he was describing. Slowly, Gerard stood up from the armchair, his steps were slow, almost creeping, as if he were silently asking for permission with every millimeter he crossed. He walked over to the sofa and, maintaining a respectful distance, sat down beside you.

His proximity brought back that cold aura, but now, under the candlelight, you could see just how unsettled he was inside. He was a man frozen in time, trying to understand why this specific human girl was thawing his edges.

He looked down at your hand, which was resting on the fabric of the sofa, and then raised his eyes to your face.

"Can I... can I test something?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, a trembling breath that betrayed a real fear of being rejected or causing you harm.

You looked at his hand, so pale with veins subtly showing blue beneath the fair skin, and then at the intensity of his gaze. There was no fear in your chest, only a deep fascination for this creature who seemed so powerful and, at the same time, so terribly fragile before you.

"Yes… you can," you answered, your voice firm yet gentle.

Gerard took a deep breath and slowly extended his hand, his cold fingers closed the distance to yours until, finally, his skin met yours. He didn't just hold your hand casually, he interlaced his fingers with yours, applying the slightest, almost ethereal pressure.

He locked his eyes onto yours, holding your gaze with an intensity that seemed to read the deepest secrets of your soul. Gerard was waiting for the usual: the thermal shock of his skin making you recoil, the sensation of holding a piece of ice molded into human form. But as the touch lingered, something extraordinary began to happen at the point where your skin met.

You blinked, your eyes widening subtly in surprise: a gentle, gradual warmth began to emanate from Gerard's fingers, spreading through your hand as if his blood had suddenly started flowing again with full force.

"Gerard..." you whispered, your voice filled with genuine wonder. "Your hands... they're warm."

The second the words left your lips, Gerard snatched his hand away abruptly, pulling his arms back against his body. He recoiled slightly on the sofa, his pale face turning into an expression of complete and utter shock.

He stared at his own palm, touching it with the fingers of his other hand, trying to rationalize what had just happened. The corners of his lips twitched erratically; he didn't know whether to laugh out of pure nervousness or cry from the wave of human emotions threatening to break through his immortal shell.

"No... it can't be," he stammered, his voice shaking, his hazel eyes gleaming almost feverishly under the candlelight. He ran both hands over his face, pulling his dark hair back in a gesture of pure conceptual desperation. "This is impossible! it's against everything I am, I'm a corpse, (Y/N). I don't generate heat, I have no life in me to create warmth."

He stopped, letting his hands fall to his knees, and looked at you with a mixture of reverence and awe that made your own heart race in an entirely different way.

"I don't know what you do to me," he confessed, his voice breaking subtly, revealing the full extent of his confusion. "I swear I don't know, but it's as if... it's as if I experience a lapse. A temporary glimpse of what it means to be human again whenever you're around. You warm my skin... You make me feel things I thought had been buried in the last century."

You moved slowly across the sofa cushion, closing the distance Gerard had tried to re-establish in his moment of panic. You extended your hand in a peaceful gesture, showing that you had absolutely no intention of backing away from his nature.

"It's okay, Gerard," you said, your voice gentle, acting as an anchor in the middle of the whirlwind of centuries-old questions that seemed to paralyze him. "It's okay, you'll have time to process all of this, let’s not think about it right now."

Gerard slowly lowered his hands from his face, looking at you through the dark strands of hair that fell messily across his forehead. His mind, accustomed to the rejection and fear that his kind naturally provoked, seemed to struggle to accept the reality of the moment.

"I tried…" his voice coming out in an almost painful whisper, his hazel eyes locked onto yours. "I spent the last few days doing everything to vanish from the hallway, I tried to stay away for your own good, (Y/N). I know how dangerous I can be, but... it felt useless. There was always something pulling me back to you, I couldn't control it…"

You offered a half-smile, feeling the weight and sincerity of that confession.

"I felt the same way," you replied, your voice dropping into the same intimate tone that filled the dark room. "Since the very first night, but I had already given up on trying to understand it, I just accepted that it would happen one way or another."

Gradually, the two of you moved closer, you raised your hand slowly and brought your fingers to his face. With extreme gentleness, you brushed away a strand of black hair that covered his eyes, tucking it behind his ear.

His lips parted slightly in surprise at your touch, and you could clearly see the sharp, protruding tips of his canine fangs resting against his lower lip. Furthermore, at the left corner of his mouth, there was an almost imperceptible trace of a dark smear of blood. Far from feeling repulsed, it seemed to simply complete the puzzle of the mysterious man standing before you.

Gerard caught his breath, watching your gaze drop to his mouth, he was static, his non-existent heart seeming to echo in the silence of the room. You refocused on his eyes, your fingers still lightly brushing his pale jawline.

"Can I test something now?" you asked, your voice a whisper laced with an anticipation that caused his pupils to dilate completely.

Gerard couldn't formulate a verbal answer, he merely gave a slight nod of his head, surrendering completely to the moment. Without hesitation, you closed the final inches separating your faces, you tilted your head slightly and, with soft certainty, pressed your lips against his.

The contact was gentle, charged with mutual curiosity, and when Gerard pulled back just a fraction, just enough for his simulated breath to brush against your face, he looked dazed, his lips still parted and subtly damp.

"It's been years... decades… since anyone has kissed me," he confessed, his voice coming out in a raspy breath, an admission so vulnerable it made your own chest tighten with a mixture of tenderness and desire.

You looked deep into his eyes, seeing there not the monster he so feared to be, but the man who was finally finding his way back to the light through you.

"Then I'm going to make the wait worth it," you replied, your voice firm and laced with a silent promise.

Without giving his mind time to build another barrier or rationalize the impossible, you leaned in again. You raised your free hand and cupped the back of his neck, burying your fingers in the black strands of his hair, pulling him back to you.

This time, there was no hesitation or restrained gentleness, you pressed your lips against his again, parting your mouth subtly and deepening the kiss.

Gerard’s reaction was immediate and overwhelming; a muffled needy groan escaped his throat against your mouth as your tongues finally met. The faint, metallic taste of his nightly harvest mingled with the warmth of your mouth, but the sensation was completely swallowed by the wave of electricity that shot between you.

Gerard gasped, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he surrendered to the rhythm of the kiss. He seemed completely lost, his hands moved erratically through the air, he simply didn't know what to do with them because the urge to touch you at all costs was almost painful. His fingers hesitated for a second, hovering near your shoulders, before finally gripping the fabric of your shirt with desperate urgency.

He wanted to pull you closer, to fuse his body with yours, the warmth that had begun as a mere whisper in his fingers now emanated with full force through all of Gerard’s skin, generated and fueled by the touch of your lips.

The kiss grew hungrier, deeper, his sharp fangs lightly brushing against your mouth without hurting, marking the territory of a connection that neither of you had the desire to avoid any longer.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you forcefully onto his lap, flattening his hand firmly against your ass to settle you straddling his cock, which was already hard straining against the fabric of his pants. A breathless moan escaped his throat as your hips locked together.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breathing completely erratic and hot against your skin.

"I'm sorry, it's been so long... I need this, I need you," he whispered, his voice dragged and thick with desire accumulated over decades of isolation.

You leaned in and bit his bottom lip, then, you threw your head back, exposing the line of your neck in a silent, clear invitation for him to press on.

Gerard understood the signal instantly, his mouth trailed down your skin with a mixture of urgency and extreme gentleness. You felt the sharp tips of his fangs brushing against your jugular, sending a violent shiver down your spine, but instead of pain, what followed was a sequence of wet kisses, intense hickeys that would leave dark marks, and light bites that made your legs tremble in his lap. His hands squeezed your waist tightly, his fingers sinking into your skin as he began to move his hips upward, desperately seeking friction against your body.

You pulled back slightly from his lap and slid to the floor, kneeling on the plush living room rug right between Gerard's open legs. Under his feverish gaze, you unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, freeing his cock, which sprang out rigid and throbbing. Gerard threw his head back against the sofa cushions, his eyes half-open and glued to you as you wrapped your hand around the base and brought your mouth to the tip.

The moment you took him inside, Gerard let out a loud, sharp groan that echoed off the walls of the dark apartment. His fingers dug into his own knees, his knuckles turning white from the effort of not pulling you too hard. You began sliding up and down his length, using your tongue to tease his most sensitive spots.

"Holy shit, (Y/N)..." he cursed through gritted teeth, his voice completely hoarse, faltering with every deep stroke you gave him. "What are you doing to me? It's too goddamn good... it's so hot."

His hands came down to your hair, his fingers tangling in your strands possessively but without hurting, dictating a slightly faster rhythm as the climax drew near. His hips rose involuntarily against your mouth, his groans becoming shorter, breathless, and desperate.

"I'm going to... I won't be able to hold it back, honey. Look at me, please, look at me," he begged.

You looked up at him without breaking the rhythm, holding his gaze. With one last subtle thrust of his hips and a groan that seemed to rip through his throat, Gerard released a generous, hot warmth directly into your mouth.

Gerard slowly opened his eyes, his vision still a bit blurred from the peak of pleasure. He looked at you kneeling between his legs and, in a voice that was little more than a raspy breath, pleaded:

"Kiss me... please, (Y/N)."

You rose from the rug and pressed your lips against his once more, the moment your tongues met, Gerard let out a deep sigh against your mouth; he could taste something new there, the flavor of his own surrender mingled with the unique warmth of your saliva.

"I want to feel you..." he whispered, his voice dragged and thick with desire.

Before you could answer, he suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you up, placing you on his lap. Despite the breathtaking speed, Gerard laid you down with the utmost care on the dark sheets of the bed. He settled right beside you, his body now radiating that feverish heat you had awakened in him, and began kissing you again with renewed desire.

While his mouth traced a burning path along your lips, you fumbled through the gloom, took one of his pale hands, and guided it underneath your top, placing his long fingers directly against your bare skin.

"Squeeze it..." you pleaded in a breathless whisper.

Gerard obeyed immediately, closing his hand and squeezing your breast with a delicious firmness, carefully controlling his own strength to give you nothing but pleasure. The touch made you let out a loud groan that echoed through the dark bedroom.

Spurred on by his touch, you sat up in bed in one swift motion and, under Gerard’s watchful gaze, crossed your arms, pulled your shirt up, and tossed it on the floor. Without missing a beat, you slid your hands down to your waist, quickly pulling off your sweat shorts and panties, then lay back down next to him, completely naked.

Gerard’s pupils dilated instantly, covering almost the entire expanse of his eyes. He had always wanted to know if your taste was as sweet as everything that came from you seemed to be.

"You are the most perfect thing I have ever seen in my entire life," he murmured, his voice trembling with awe as his eyes traveled over your curves. "Every single piece of you... I want to burn it into my memory, I want to consume everything you allow me to."

You reached out, captured two of his long fingers, and brought them to your mouth, sucking on them slowly, coating them in your warm saliva. Then, you guided his hand down your own body, taking those same damp fingers directly to your pussy, which was already completely wet and begging for touch.

You kept your hand over his, guiding Gerard's first movements over your core. Slowly, you rubbed his fingers against your clit, showing him the exact pressure and rhythm your body demanded.

"Like that, Gerard... right there," you gasped.

Gerard soon caught on to the mechanics and dynamics of your body, he slid his fingers downward and inserted them into you all at once, burying them inside your tight, wet pussy, making you gasp loudly, throwing your head back against the pillow.

You began to roll your hips against his hand, dictating the intensity while he slid his fingers in and out in a steady, addictive rhythm. Gerard leaned over you, pressing his lips to yours in a deep kiss, using his own mouth to muffle and swallow your breathless moans. Between one spasm and the next, his mouth trailed down your neck to your breasts, alternating between lapping at your warm skin and teasing little bites to your nipples.

Pleasure built rapidly, a delicious tension indicating that you were right on the edge of coming. Your body tensed, your hips lifting in search of the climax, but in the split-second right before your orgasm, Gerard stopped his fingers and his mouth out of nowhere.

You opened your eyes, frustrated and panting, finding his face inches from yours. His lips were curved into a distinctly predatory smile, his sharp fangs glinting under the faint light of the candle from the living room.

"You should be afraid of me, (Y/N)... and not of the dark," he challenged, his voice coming out in a low, velvety tone.

Despite the teasing, you didn't flinch. A defiant smile rose to your lips as you watched him pull back just enough to undress, tossing his shirt and the rest of his clothes onto the floor of that dark room, revealing his pale frame.

You held his gaze and answered, your voice firm and heavy with intent:

"I've always liked a little adrenaline."

Gerard lay down beside you on the bed, he slid his hand up your thigh, lifting one of your legs. In the movement, you felt the head of his cock, firm and hot from the heat you shared, slowly brush and rub against your completely wet pussy.

He leaned in, pressing his face to the side of your neck, and his heavy breath brushed near your ear as he whispered:

"You're desperate for me, aren't you? Look how wet you are... I have barely touched you, honey."

You closed your eyes tightly, feeling the wave of desire down below intensify with the teasing. Gerard let out a low, husky, vibrating laugh against your skin, planting a sharp kiss on your jawline.

"I promise you it'll be worth it, sugar," he whispered back, his voice dragged out.

With a perfectly controlled movement, he positioned himself and, slowly, began to push. Inch by inch, his cock slid inside you, filling every space in an overwhelming way. The second he buried himself completely, you involuntarily clamped down around him, adapting to his size. The sudden tightness made Gerard freeze, throwing his head back, a heavy curse escaped his gritted teeth.

"Fuck..." he gasped, his hazel eyes locked onto yours, gleaming in the gloom. "So tight... you're fucking crushing me."

The sensation of having him inside was intense in a way you had never imagined. Impatient with the slowness, you began to move your hips on your own, seeking more contact.

Gerard let out a low growl and driven by pure instinct, gripped your waist with more force than usual. His fingers dug into your skin in a possessive way; you knew that area would be bruised purple the next day.

"Don't move like that yet... wait," his voice breaking as he began to dictate the pace.

Gerard pulled his body back a bit and began to bury himself in you with force and precision. The sound of shifting sheets and skin meeting skin mingled with the noise of the rain outside. With every deeper thrust, he leaned down to kiss you or buried his face in your hair.

"You're delicious... holy shit, (Y/N)," he groaned against your ear, his hips driving firmly against yours. "I spent days trying not to think about you, trying to ignore the sound of your heartbeat... and now you're here, underneath me, driving me out of my mind."

Gerard alternated his movements, shifting the angle to hit the exact spots that made you arch your back off the bed and scratch the pale skin of his back.

"Look at me," he begged, his voice thick with the approaching climax, his completely dark eyes locked onto yours. "Tell me you're mine... let me hear you say my name while I fuck you like this."

You turned your head with difficulty, fighting against the whirlwind of sensations that threatened to steal your consciousness. You locked your eyes onto his, your lips were pressed tight, bitten hard to contain the screams that wanted to escape, but the sheer intensity of his touch would not allow for silence. Between long, breathless moans, you finally gave in, letting the words slip out like a spell in the gloom:

"I am yours, Gerard… I want to be yours… fuck…"

The moment the sound of his own name left your mouth, mingled with that absolute surrender, something seemed to snap in Gerard’s self-control. A purely animal sound, a deep, anxious growl vibrating from the depths of his chest, echoed through the room. He began to thrust into you with blind urgency, his hips slamming violently, the bedframe creaking under the impact of a force he was clearly struggling not to unleash completely.

The pleasure pooling down below shifted shape, becoming an overwhelming urgency that arched your spine. In the heat of the moment, with your body trembling and needing to feel his full weight against yours, you begged through gritted teeth for him to fuck you face-to-face.

Gerard didn't hesitate, he pulled his body back in a fluid motion, slipping out of you for just a second, long enough to make you let out a needy whine at the sudden loss of that fullness, and positioned himself right on top of you, pinning your hips with his legs.

He propped himself up on his forearms, one on each side of your head. When he looked down, his front teeth were small and even, but his sharp canine fangs rested over his bottom lip, glistening with a subtle wetness. It was a terrifying sight for any mortal, but not to you.

You raised both hands, ignoring the danger of that jaw, you pulled him down and kissed him slowly. It was a deep, wet kiss, where your tongues tangled with a slowness that contrasted sharply with the frantic pace of seconds ago.

Still maintaining eye contact as the kiss broke with a wet snap, Gerard slid one of his hands down. He gripped his own cock, which was throbbing against your stomach, and positioned the tip right at your entrance. He gave a single, long, determined thrust, invading you all at once, burying himself to the very base.

"Oh, fuck…" Gerard gasped against your lips, closing his eyes for a brief instant as he felt the internal walls of your pussy clamp tightly around him in a warm, wet embrace. "Honey… you're going to break me. Look at this, you're so fucking tight it feels like you were custom-made just for me."

He began to move, his cock rubbing against the exact spot that stole your breath with every single stride. He began to dictate a cadenced rhythm, driving his hips against yours with force, yet keeping his eyes fixed on yours, watching the way your features unraveled in pure pleasure.

Gerard clamped his teeth shut, the muscles of his back tightening visibly beneath his fair skin as he forced his own body to subtly slow down. He was controlling himself at the absolute brink of the impossible to keep from coming.

"Look at how you squeeze me," he raved quietly, leaving a heavy suck at the base of your neck that made you involuntarily arch your hips upward, meeting his cock with even more force. "You want me just as badly as I want you, don't you? Tell me, tell me how much you want me to fuck you."

"More, Gerard… please," you whimpered, your hands traveling up his back, your nails scratching his pale skin without him caring about the pain.

"Like this?" he asked, delivering three fast, brutal thrusts that ripped a sharp cry from you. A satisfied smile rose to his lips at your reaction. "I can do this all night, (Y/N). I can fill you up until you can't stand the sound of my name anymore."

The subtle sweat of your skin mingled with the friction of your bodies, creating a wet, rhythmic sound that filled the gaps between the thunderclaps outside. Gerard continued his work, the pace growing more and more urgent as his mental resistance crumbled under the weight of that sweetness he could only find in you. The thrusts became short, fast, and deep, his hips snapping against yours without pause.

His pupils were completely dilated, swallowing the hazel color of his eyes.

"I'm going to… fuck, I'm going to cum inside you," he warned, his voice giving out completely, a breathless growl escaping as he delivered the last, wildest thrusts, sinking in as deep as his body allowed. "Take it all for me, sugar… everything I have is yours."

With one last thrust, pressing his hips against yours with all his strength, Gerard let out a long, ragged moan that echoed through the room. His body shuddered from head to toe as he released a generous, hot wave deep inside you. He let the weight of his chest rest on yours for a few seconds, panting, his forehead pressed against the curve of your neck, while the spasms of his orgasm made his cock throb inside you, spilling every last drop.

Despite having reached his own peak, Gerard did not forget about you. He could hear the racing frantic pulse of your heart and feel the subtle frustration of your body, which had been left right at the edge of the cliff.

He raised his face slowly, hair damp against his forehead, and looked at you with a renewed tenderness. He slid his body to the side with care, pulling out of you with a wet sound that sent warm fluid trickling down your thighs. Without giving you time to cool down, he threw his leg over yours again and brought his pale hand directly down to your pussy.

"Now it's your turn… let me take care of you," he whispered, his lips brushing your ear, his voice still shaking with artificial exhaustion.

Gerard positioned his index and middle fingers right in the center of your pussy, which was still twitching and contracting. He began a fast, circular motion with his fingertips, applying the exact pressure you had taught him earlier against your swollen clit, while using his thumb to massage the entrance of your slick opening.

"Moan for me, honey," he commanded softly, the rhythm of his fingers increasing with absurd dexterity. "Let me hear the sound you make when I touch you like this."

You began to roll your hips against his hand, Gerard's fingers were fast, moving with the precision of someone who knew every nerve ending in your body.

"That's it… good girl, look how you ride my finger," he praised, leaning down to lightly bite your chin before sliding his mouth down to lap at your breasts, sucking your nipple hard while his hand worked tirelessly down below. "You're so close, I can feel it. Your heart is going to explode if you don't come for me soon."

You let out a loud groan, your entire body arching as the wave of the orgasm finally broke over you. Your pussy began to contract violently around his fingers, expelling even more wetness as you discharged all the built-up pleasure. Gerard didn't stop; he kept up the fast motion for a few more seconds, savoring every cry you let out against his chest, until you finally went soft against the sheets, completely exhausted.

Gerard instinctively wrapped his arms tightly around you, the grip of his embrace was possessive, yet it carried a desperate need for proximity, as if he feared that if he let you go for even a single second, this entire reality would shatter. You nestled your head right in the center of his chest, resting your cheek against his soft, pale skin.

It was when the room seemed to grow too quiet that a subtle, almost imperceptible vibration caught your attention. It didn't come from the outside, it came from right beneath your ear.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

It was a faint, muffled, yet steady sound. A rhythmic beating that defied every law of nature he had just explained to you. You let out a low laugh, a relaxed sound that vibrated against his skin, and said:

"Gerard… I think I can feel your heart."

Gerard’s body froze beneath yours for a fraction of a second, his fingers, which had been gently caressing your hair, stopped mid-air. He didn't answer right away, he brought his own free hand up to his chest, right above where your head rested, feeling the mechanical miracle taking place inside him.

He slowly released his breath through his lips and tightened his embrace, burying his face into the top of your head, letting himself be swept away by that overwhelming wave of human warmth you had injected into his eternity.

And Gerard replied: