#vampki

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"That's not how that works."

Riki shakes his head for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. On the TV, some dramatic vampire is floating outside a girl's bedroom window.

You don't even look away from the screen. "Mhm."

"And why is he floating?"

You smile. "I don't know."

"We can't do that."

"I know, baby." You say, and Riki sighs. "It's stupid."

The vampire on screen suddenly hisses dramatically, showing off a mouth full of giant fangs. Riki immediately scoffs. "Oh, come on."

The two of you are sitting comfortably out on the couch, while some cheesy vampire movie plays in the background.

Ironically, Riki hates vampire movies. Not because they're scary. Because they're wrong, every single one of them. According to him, at least. "Nobody's eyes turn red like that."

You reach over and pat his thigh. "Okay."

"And sunlight doesn't instantly kill us."

"Okay."

"And nobody wears capes."

At that, you finally look at him. "You would look good in a cape."

Riki deadpans. "No."

The movie continues playing, Riki continues complaining. Life continues as normal, at least for another ten minutes. Then you notice him shifting.

His foot starts bouncing against the floor, his fingers drum against his leg. Then he changes positions, again and again. A restless energy slowly settles into his body. One you've learned to recognize. Riki notices it too, you can tell by the annoyed expression that appears on his face.

His tongue runs over one of his teeth and a second later his fangs extend slightly.

It starts with restlessness. Then heightened senses, his hearing and smell sharpen. Then the fangs. Then hunger. His entire body begins preparing him for what it was built to do.

Riki leans back and exhales slowly through his nose. Trying to ignore the feeling.

Unfortunately, hunger doesn't really care about trying.

"You hungry, ki?"

He groans. "Mhm." His hand immediately finds your knee underneath the blanket, touching you keeps him from drifting too far into instinct.

The world is different now than it used to be.

A few hundred years ago, vampires fed however they wanted. Humans, animals, whatever was available.

Now? There are cameras, phones and DNA everywhere. One mistake and suddenly you're caught.

So most vampires adapted to drinking from blood bags. Riki hates them. He complains every time he drinks from one, saying it tastes like chemicals. But he has no other choice, it’s either processed blood, or risking your life.

"The only reason I drink that shit is because I don't want to lose you." Was the excuse he came up with yesterday.

His hand slides from your knee to intertwine your fingers. On the screen, the vampire finally gets his girl. After two hours of dramatic staring and unnecessary fighting, he cups the woman's face and bites into her neck.

You watch for a second, then softly mumble, "That's so hot."

Riki's head immediately turns and his eyes flick to your neck. Just for a second. Then he looks back at the movie. "Don't say shit like that."

The response is so immediate that you have to bite back a smile. "What?"

"You heard me."

You definitely heard him, but your smile only grows.

A few moments later, Riki’s stomach interrupts the movie with a growl.

You immediately burst out laughing and you shove his legs off the couch with yours.

"Jeez. Go get yourself a blood bag."

Riki groans and he drops his head onto your shoulder. "I don't want one."

His blonde hair brushes your cheek. Then his nose accidentally, or maybe not accidentally, brushes against your neck.

You feel him inhale twice, a little deeper the second tim e, it sends a small shiver down your spine. 

You glance at him. "Drink from me then."

The reaction is instant. Riki sits up so fast it almost gives you whiplash. "No."

You roll your eyes. This argument is ancient, you've been asking since practically the second week you met.

The first time had been mostly curiosity, the second time because his reaction was funny, the third time you were serious.

There had been a few close calls early on, back when he still fed from humans occasionally. You'd caught him staring at your neck before when you thought he just fell asleep with his head resting on your shoulder.

Once when he was kissing your neck you suddenly felt two cold, sharp points against your skin, but you flinched and he pulled himself back.

He pulled himself back every single time.

Riki mutters something under his breath and finally gets up. A minute later he comes back carrying a blood pouch. His expression alone makes you laugh. "Poor baby."

He drops back onto the couch. "Don't start."

Then, because apparently he's incapable of being normal, he holds the pouch up in the air.

"Riki."

"What?"

"Just drink it.."

He bites into the bottom corner like one of those frat boys who thinks shotgunning drinks makes them look cool. You stare at him, he stares back. Then starts drinking.

"...You're ridiculous."

He shrugs. You watch the way his lips wrap around the corner of the bag and the way his throat moves with each swallow.

After a minute, he lowers the pouch. He makes a disgusted face and takes another reluctant sip. Eventually he groans and tosses it onto the coffee table, it lands with a wet slap.

You snort. "You barely drank half."

Riki throws his head back against the couch. "The second week. The second week of drinking these things." He points accusingly toward the abandoned pouch. "And I'm already over it."  You laugh softly.

A small red drop sits near the corner of his mouth. You reach over and wipe it away with your thumb. Riki’s eyes immediately follow your hand and before you can pull away, his fingers wrap around your wrist, he brings your thumb toward his mouth and sucks the drop of blood off. Maintaining eye contact the whole time.

You study him for a few seconds before speaking quietly. "Why won't you drink from me?"

His expression immediately changes. "Baby."

"Just a tiny sip, or just bite me."

"No. Why do you even want me to?"

You shrug. Your eyes drift from his eyes to his lips, then back again. You notice him doing the same.

"I don't know," you admit softly. "I just... want to know what it feels like."

Riki's eyes flick toward your neck again. The thought of it enters his mind before he can stop it. The taste of your blood, the closeness. Which immediately makes him look away. "No."

You groan. "Whyyy."

"Because I said no."

"That's not a reason."

He rubs a hand over his face. You keep staring at him. Eventually he sighs, which means he's about to give you an actual answer. His hand reaches up, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

"Baby, you don't know what you're asking for.”

Your smile slowly fades. His hand moves to your jaw, then your neck, his thumb brushes softly against the skin.

"I've spent years learning control." His voice is quiet now. "And most of the time I'm fine."

You swallow. 

"But if I did that?" His thumb strokes your neck again. "Once I get a taste of your blood? I don't know if I'd want to stop."

.Your stomach flips.

"What if I hurt you?" His hand cups the side of your neck. "I can’t live with myself if that happens."

"I'd stop you." 

Riki chuckles softly. "You'd stop me?"

"Yeah." You shrug. 

"How?"

"I don't know."

"Exactly."

You roll your eyes. Then before you can argue again, Riki suddenly grabs your waist and the next thing you know you're laying back against the couch cushions. He climbs over you before you can sit back up, his arms cage you in on either side.

A grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. "You want it that bad?"

You smile sweetly and nod your head.

He raises an eyebrow. "It could literally kill you."

"It won't."

Riki shakes his head and he smiles, flashing his still-extended fangs.

Then his stomach growls again. Riki lets out a long, frustrated sigh and drops on top of you, all heavy limbs and complaints. His forehead lands against your shoulder, one arm sliding around your waist.

"See?" you murmur, running your fingers through his hair. "You're still hungry. Just drink from me, a little bit."

He doesn't answer, at first you think he's ignoring you. Then you feel him inhale, long and deep. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, breathing you in slowly. His grip around your waist tightens and he exhales with a hum.

The blood bag he'd forced himself to drink had taken the edge off, but not enough. Because blood bags didn't smell like this, didn't feel like this, didn't have a heartbeat underneath warm soft skin. 

Riki squeezes his eyes shut, you can feel the fight happening inside his head.  Every instinct he has is pointing in the same direction, but he’s afraid.

His hand finds your neck again, thumb brushing over the pulse on your neck while he hisses through his fangs, his breath warm against your neck. 

"Riki," you whisper.

His lips part slightly and his fangs graze your skin as he presses his forehead more firmly against your shoulder. The cool tip of his nose brushes your skin, your scent is everywhere, he feels like he’s going insane with need. 

He’s so close to giving in. Then a quiet frustrated exhale leaves him and his fingers squeeze your side. "Tell me to stop y/n."

Instead, you slide your hand to the back of his head and gently guide him closer.

"I trust you," you murmur before closing your eyes.

His hand slides behind your neck, fingers disappearing into your hair as he carefully cradles your head. His nose brushes your skin as he breathes you in one last time, eyes closed.

Then, finally—

A sharp sting.

Your breath catches before you can stop it, fingers instinctively clutching at his shoulder. It hurts, but it hurts good. Riki begins to suck at the wound, the first pull is almost hesitant.

He moans at the taste of your blood, the sound vibrating against your neck. It's like nothing he’s ever experienced before, his lips stay sealed around the wound, drinking carefully. He tightens his grip on you, his body pressed against yours. 

His hand on your cheek trembles slightly before steadying again, his thumb continuing gentle strokes across your skin as if he’s reminding you that you’re safe, that you can trust him.

Until the hunger immediately asks for more. Just another second. Just one more drop. His instincts whisper that it isn't enough. His arms tighten around you and his fingers curl in your hair tighter. 

Then he catches himself and forces himself to count. Then, with visible effort, he pulls away. He gently drags the tip of his tongue over the small mark on your neck. The wound closes almost instantly.

When he finally looks at you again, he almost doesn't recognize himself. He feels ‘alive’ in a way he hasn’t in months. His eyes are heavy-lidded and unfocused like he's just woken from the best high of his life. A slow smile spreads across his face, the sharp point of his fangs glossed pink from the blood.

He lets out a quiet laugh under his breath. His mouth hangs slightly open, his fangs still visible as he tries to collect himself, but he can't stop smiling.

You lift your hand and touch your neck carefully with your fingertips, trying to find the wound, but you only feel smooth skin and warmth where his mouth had been.

Riki’s eyes flick to your hand, he catches your wrist gently and lays it down. 

“It’s healed, baby,” he says with a low chuckle.

You look at him with a surprised and slightly confused expression when you feel the would completely healed within 2 minutes. Before you can ask him anything about the healing, he leans down and kisses you.

His lips move against yours while one of his hands slides behind your head, fingers disappearing into your hair. You kiss him back immediately, your hand finding his jawline.

As the kiss continues, he smiles against your lips. Then suddenly he catches your bottom lip with one fang, just enough to draw one drop of blood.

Your eyes fly open. "Ow, Riki!"

He laughs under his breath.

"Sorry, baby." He presses a quick peck to your lips as an apology.

Then he grins and lets himself sink back down onto you with a sigh, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck again. His nose brushes your skin as he breathes you in again deeply.

"I just wanted one more taste of you," he mumbles, you feel his lips brush your neck softly when he speaks.

You smile to yourself. "I figured."

All his weight is comfortably resting on top of you, arms loosely wrapped around your waist while your fingers find his back, slowly running up and down beneath his hoodie.

The vampire movie is still playing in the background. Neither of you has any idea how it ends, but it’s wrong anyway. If you ask Riki.

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