#vampire shenanigans

You really should a known when Gale made an—objectively-speaking and you even knew it at the time—simple statement about the best path to take. The day is hotter than Satan’s ass crack, y’all are sweating and miserable, and the rage surges up in you like goddamn Plinian eruption.

You say something along the line of, “No one asked your opinion, and yet here we are, listening to you talk anyway.”

It’s too far. You know it. Knew it before you even opened your mouth in that split second judgment call.

Gale’s face falls before he picks it back up and resettles his blasé mask.

Shit goddamn fuck.

Everyone hears it, too. Even Astarion gives you a Look.

“I’m sorry, Gale,” you say. “I really am. I’m…that was an asshole thing to say.”

His smile is still a couple shades cooler than usual. “It’s alright. The heat is getting to us all, I believe.”

An olive branch, when you’re the one who snapped.

“I mean it. Heat or not, that was rude of me. ‘Specially since you’re right.”

Cause he is. Heat melts your brains to pudding, and you were about to stomp y’all past the correct intersection to take y’all back to the inn.

His smile thaws a touch. He inclines his head.

“Now you’ve done it,” Astarion says. “He’s going to be insufferable all day.”

“Being correct is not being insufferable,” Gale says, one finger held up, the spitting image of some college professor. “Especially when it saves all of us time and effort in this truly insufferable mugginess.”

Poor man don’t know muggy. That’s when the backs of your hands sweat. Muggy is when the air’s so wet it’s almost hard to breathe. It’s one-hundred-and-thirteen goddamn degrees Fahrenheit with ninety-five percent goddamn humidity.

But you keep that shit to yourself because you fucked up and he’s owed a dunk on you.

As y’all turn up the (correct, this time) road, Astarion sidles in. Gives you a glance and the smallest line creases his brow.

“’M okay,” you say.

He nods. Bumps his hand against yours in his totally-not-a-stray-cat way of asking for attention. You thread your fingers through his gloved ones, and the both of you pretend that don’t soften his entire posture.

The inn is only half full. They got alcove beds along the walls, so you and Astarion decide to share. The two of you set up the privacy screen, and he changes into sleep pants while your back is turned.

Cazador McFuckface is dead. Astarion is a free man, and y’all have been intimate. But you still give him his modesty, always; it seems to please him beyond words. You can tell in the soft sigh as you turn away and leave him to it. In the languid movements of his limbs as he finishes and slides onto the mattress (only grumbling a little at the poor quality of the linens). In the roundness of his eyes as he stretches out and waits for you to join him.

He's still a murder hobo and a thieving, snarking, asshole gremlin. But there’s more to him, now.

You fiddle with your trousers. It really is too hot to sleep in clothes; back home, you always slept bare. It’s how you landed on an alien ship buck-ass naked.

He seems to sense this dilemma. Murmurs, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

And then gives you a saucy little wink, the dork.

So you shuck off all but your smallclothes (that he sewed for you; nothing says “You’re fine I guess” like a man sewing you some drawers) and scooch in after him. He shuffles closer to the wall while you reach up to untie the cord holding the bed curtain open.

It’s only the illusion of privacy—Lae’zel murmurs to Shadowheart across the room and Karlach’s familiar snores already fill the air. But it’s a mental thing, and you turn and Astarion snuggles into you.

“God that’s nice,” you say.

One benefit of him being undead is the man don’t produce body heat. Which means he’s nice and cool against you. Which was real weird at first (something air temperature shouldn’t move or speak), but it’s him and he’s safe, so this feels like him, like safety.

He groans in response—the downside of undead is the man don’t produce his own body heat. Which means his joints get achy unless he’s fed within the last day, or he’s got a nice, large lover blasting him with her own furnace heat.

You’re tired and vaguely hurting. Astarion likes to be the little spoon, and when he’s facing you, he koala’s onto your front. Face tucked in against your neck (or your cleavage; “you make a fantastic pillow, darling”), arms wrapped around your middle, legs all tangled with yours.

But it’s so damn hot, and the walking was too damn long. Your body thrums. Bastard won’t settle. You become too aware of his habitual breath fanning your skin. Of his coolness against you. The arm slung over your ribs.

It’s easy to imagine that mouth of his opening. Tongue snaking out to lap at you, blunt front teeth nipping up and up. Until he finds your lips and—

You shift.

His crotch is right there. Ain’t nothing going on, but you know now what he feels like when he presses against you. When he ruts against you, eyes closed to slits, forgetting to breathe. His hand around yours on his cock as he shows you how to pleasure him. The salty, bitter tang as he comes in your mouth—

“Shit,” you say and shift your legs. Astarion nuzzles against your neck but otherwise says nothing.

Y’all’ve had sex in public. Had sex in an alley. In an inn. But none of those was this close to y’all’s friends. Curtains muffle sound about as well as tent fabric, but they been pitching their tents away from your shared one for some time and for a damn reason. You always thought you were quiet. Turns out, with a partner, not so much (it’s the shit he says; his pick-up lines were so over-the-top they was kinda funny, but when he means it? Who-wee).

You sigh. It’s been a long day. Y’all need to sleep.

You try to shift your hips without dislodging him, hoping to find the right angle to ease the general achiness—

“That’s going to make it more difficult for me to trance, darling,” Astarion says against your skin.

(You don’t shiver. That would be too desperate. And even if you did, he don’t mention it.)

“Sorry,” you say. “Kinda restless. You wanna sleep in separate beds?” Then he looks up and even in the curtained gloom, his eyes pick up that red shine like a monster in the woods come to lurk.

Okay, so you absolutely shiver. You feel his smile, slow and syrupy, against your collarbone.

“Who said anything about leaving?” he says.

This man. What he does to you. You try to run your fingers through your hair, but it’s dark, you’re human, and you catch his ear instead.

Now he shudders. Presses a kiss to where your neck and shoulder meet.

“Are you…?” you say, because you ain’t always good at reading people and this man in particular is real good at getting himself misread on purpose.

His cool fingers slip down your belly to tease along your smallclothes as his mouth opens to suck on your neck (it’ll bruise). His fingers trace lower, lower…

You clasp a hand over your mouth.

“Offering to help you work through whatever has you so bothered?” he says.

Heat rushes between your legs. You are so horny for him it’s ridiculous. His hand lifts so he can trace along your outer thigh. Then his knee slots between your legs.

“Be a dear and bring this up over my hip, hmm?” he says, tapping a pattern on your thigh. “Open your legs for me, my love.”

“But everybody’s so close.”

He sucks at the damn love bite. He loves leaving marks on you. You think you like him leaving marks on you.

“So long as you stay quiet,” he says, voice gone soft and lilting as his fingers tease under your smallclothes to stroke lower.

Then it was as if something did hit him, his flashlight shattering in his hand and plunging him into darkness. Nanami raised his stake without hesitation, keeping his other arm up to guard his throat. 

“Who’s there?” he called, hoping to lure the straggler to him. How annoying, that the surviving vampire had some kind of additional power. Nanami waited, but nothing burst from the shadows. However, he could tell he was being watched. He shouted, “Come out! I know you’re there!”

He expected a shriek or a low hiss. Not a coherent human voice. 

“Hey, Nanami.”

His stomach coiled into a tight knot. That playful tone… he’d heard it only once before, back when he was a young student and a novice hunter. But he could never forget it; that voice belonged to one of the two beings in their profession that spelled certain death. 

A light turned on in front of him, almost making him step back. No, it wasn’t a light. It was the glowing blue eyes of the strongest vampire lord in the entire world, Gojou Satoru. 

He appeared in front of Nanami out of thin air, just out of reach and hovering a few inches over the ground as if to add to his already staggering height. Gojou was canted forward, hands behind his back in a strangely childish pose. 

The only reason he’d ever let a hunter live was to play with and kill them another day. Nanami thought about the tedious office job and long life he willingly gave up just to wind up here, about to be bled dry like an animal for slaughter. 

Those blinding, sapphire eyes looked past Nanami’s stake and bore right into him, as easily as a fang would sever an artery. 

He refused to give up his steady composure even in the face of the greatest vampire. 

Gojou smiled, flashing his sharpened canines. “Aw, do you really think you’re going to hurt us?”

Nanami’s blood ran cold. “Us?”

To his credit, he didn’t flinch or cry out in alarm as two arms wrapped around his waist and a broad chest pressed against his back. A purring voice in his ear asked, “Oh, mister vampire hunter, please show us mercy.”

Getou Suguru, the second strongest vampire. And Gojou’s beloved. 

It was a trap, Nanami realized too late. The vampires he slayed before were just underlings, meant to die and deplete his supplies until he was all but defenseless. But why plan anything at all?

Alone or together, Gojou and Getou would be strong enough to kill him without lifting a finger. Getou was said to have an army of demons at his disposal, in addition to whatever poor humans he turned into thralls. And Gojou… he could kill with the barest effort.

“You should know…” Nanami said, keeping his voice even as much as possible, “...my guild’s higher-ups refuse to divulge their most valuable knowledge to those below them; I don’t know anything about their future plans. And another hunter will eventually rise up to take my place. You will gain no advantage in my death tonight.”

“Death?” Gojou asked, tilting his head to the side. He suddenly appeared right in front of Nanami, taking hold of his stake and crushing it to splinters, “Who ever said anything about death?”

Then they wanted to turn him. What a useless idea, they should know that most vampire hunters regularly consumed a potion that would conflict with the influence of vampirism and cause one’s demise rather than transformation. It was a rather unpleasant drink, one of its main ingredients being a copious quantity of onions, but Nanami believed death was preferable to eternal servitude. 

The voice behind him asked, “You think we’d bother to establish a nest here, and watch you slaughter our kin, only to kill you now?”

So they were watching. 

Nanami finally did flinch as he felt lips ghosting over the side of his neck. He tried to free himself, but the arms around his waist held fast. And one of his hands was now trapped in Gojou’s clutches. 

“Silly Na-na-mi,” Gojou said, drawing out his name. The corners of his eyes creased as his smile widened, “What do you think we want to do to you, hm?”

“With you, would be more accurate.” Getou said. 

Too close, Nanami thought. They were both far too close. Not just because they were his greatest enemies -arguably humanity’s greatest enemies- but because their hands on his body felt hauntingly intimate. 

He’d had an occasional fling, most of them when he was younger, but Nanami hadn’t been intimate with another person in years. He never wanted to endanger potential partners, but also never felt the urge or any kind of spark. Nothing like the burning handprints he felt on his waist and now his chest. Gojou pressed his palm flat against Nanami’s chest and hummed in curiosity 

“I can feel how fast your heart is beating, are you that excited to see us?”

Getou added, “We’ve seen how hard you work. We see the way you care for your juniors. But when was the last time anyone has ever taken care of you, Nanami?”

A creeping fog was starting to enter his mind, making it hard to think. It was vampiric compulsion, that much he knew. But he surprised even himself when he said, “I dislike off-topic questions.”

For a stifling moment, no one spoke. 

Then Gojou threw his head back and laughed. Nanami felt the chest pressed against his back tremble with the effort to not join in. 

“Satoru,” Getou said, almost admonishing but with a grinning lilt to his voice. 

“Nanami!” Gojou said, his voice teetering toward a childish whine, “Does everything have to be work-related with you? What do you like to do for fun, huh?”

“I drink,” he said. Startled, he clapped his free hand over his mouth.

Gojou Satoru’s compulsion was that strong, even with all his training?

Nanami supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. 

Getou’s soft, mellow, sugary voice filled his head, “Is that so? We love to drink, too. Maybe you’d like to join us? You must be thirsty after such hard work.”

Against Nanami’s will, his shoulders started to relax as his hand fell away from his mouth. This was part of what made the two lords so dangerous; their hypnotic sway was beyond that of any other vampire. Gojou had his eyes that pulled the truth out of his victims and Getou’s gentle voice could sway anyone to do his bidding. 

Being in both their presence for this long… Nanami had no idea what he might say or do. If he still had his stake, he would’ve contemplated using it on himself to escape whatever dreadful fate awaited him. 

Gojou laughed softly, lowering himself until his feet touched the ground. Even then, he was still so tall that Nanami had to crane his head back to keep track of those long, sharp fangs. His head fell back against a shoulder, as if Getou was just waiting for it. 

Gojou smirked and said, “Don’t be so worried, Nanami. Here, why don’t we just show you what we're planning.”

Nanami braced himself, fully prepared to lose his jugular and return from whence he came. But Gojou reached over his shoulder, pulling Getou closer. Though Getou kept one hand on Nanami’s waist and Gojou did the same, it might’ve been possible for him to break free and run. However far he got, he could at least die knowing he tried.

But how could he leave? How could he ever look away when Gojou cradled Getou’s pale face with more tenderness than had ever graced Nanami in his life? 

He watched, starstruck, as the two vampire lords shared a kiss. Getou tilted his head back, those violet eyes fluttering shut. That intense blue light dimmed as even Gojou’s own eyes fluttered and closed into half-moons. Vampires did not need to breathe, but one of them let out the softest moan. 

Nanami saw a flash of white and watched as Gojou’s fang sliced Getou’s lower lip open. A thick trail of blackened blood snaked its way down his chin. Vampires, being undead things, needed the blood and lifeforce of others to sustain themselves. Nanami always thought of it as a sad existence. But here and now, he couldn’t deny how enticing it all looked. 

Another flash of white. Getou bit Gojou’s lip hard enough to draw blood. 

It was the sway of their compulsion that compelled him to stay and watch, surely. And not the sound of Getou moaning as Gojou lapped up his blood and made a mess between their lips. 

Nanami shuddered. He felt his whole body start to heat up despite the chill in the air. He suddenly wished he was free of his jacket and tie. 

The two vampires parted. The sight of a thin trail of viscous blood connecting their lips made Nanami swallow. His throat was suddenly very dry. He was so parched, so thirsty. 

A hand took his chin and forced him to look Getou Suguru in the eye. Those half-lidded violet irises and plump, parted lips took whatever embers of resistance he still held and blew them away. 

“Come here, hunter.”

Nanami felt his whole body flood with an aching, hungry heat, his head going fuzzy as the vampire lord kissed him. He felt the glide of those fangs but no bite. He parted his lips as a faint gasp escaped him, Getou taking that as an invitation to slip his tongue past Nanami’s teeth and force him to taste vampire blood for the first time in his life. 

It was cloying and heavy on his tongue. And so very sweet. 

It felt like pure bliss. Nanami swayed where he stood, supported by both of the arms cradling him close. Seemingly from far away, he heard Gojou chuckle and say, “My turn.”

And he was met with another set of lips, and another taste of vampire blood. Despite how much it felt like he was burning up, Nanami also felt as though he were sinking into some dark lake. His thoughts and concerns drained out of him as he was unable to imagine the sight of the sky nor the bottom of the depths. He simply was, floating yet still somehow standing. Blissed out yet still hoping for more. 

He reached out to steady himself and unknowingly leaned against Gojou’s side. 

Getou spoke, voice low and sweet, “Poor thing, must be awfully tired to fall so fast. Why don’t you take the rest of the night off and come home with us, Nanami?”

“Yes, come home with us. We’ll let you stay for as long as you like. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Nanami opened his eyes. When did they close? Did it even concern him anymore that he’d let his guard down so easily?

No, not really. At that moment, he couldn’t imagine a life without this taste on his tongue, this heat curling low in his belly. He never wanted this moment to end. 

Only one word escaped his lips.