#walter deville

You’d felt the eyes on you for days now, even though you weren’t sure where they came from. Everywhere you went, you felt stalked, watched, hunted.

At first, you told yourself it was nothing, that it was just paranoia creeping in after too many late nights. But the feeling never faded. If anything, it grew stronger with each passing day.

Now, as you walk down the dimly lit street, you feel the eyes again. The city around you has calmed, the usual distant sound of traffic and people seeming quieter than usual—an eerie silence. You pull your coat tighter around yourself, resisting the urge to look over your shoulder.

But then you hear it. A footstep.

It is soft, almost unnoticeable, but it is definitely there. And worse, it is in time with yours.

Your pace quickens.

So do the steps behind you.

A shiver runs down your spine. Your breath hitches as you try to keep your movements natural, to convince yourself that it is just a coincidence, that someone else is merely walking in the same direction as you. After all, you are walking down a street.

Then, you hear something else—quieter this time, but closer. It is not just following. It is closing the distance. You start to run, your feet colliding with the cobbled road, footsteps echoing off the walls.

All of a sudden, from somewhere behind you comes a sharp whistle through the air, too fast, too precise, and then it is gone.

And so are the steps.

You slow, looking behind you, but there is nothing. Or at least, nothing you can see.

Then comes the sound.

A gasp. A struggle, brief and frantic. A choked-off noise, cut short like a thread being severed. And then nothing. Silence envelops the street again.

Your chest heaves, your heart pounding with every shallow breath. The only sound is the thumping of your own blood, but you can feel it. Something looming in the shadows.

You turn and come face to face with a man, so close your nose nearly brushes against his chest. He’s tall, so impossibly tall, and cold, like the night itself. His eyes are dark but steady, watching you with an unsettling calm, a sort of curiosity.

"Are you alright?" He places his hands on your shoulders to steady your trembling body.

His voice is softer than you expect, like he’s trying not to startle you. It cuts through the air, smoother than silk, but there’s something underneath it, something sharp. Your breath is still uneven as your gaze flickers over him, drawn—despite yourself—to the glint of his teeth. His canines catch the light, just a little too sharp.

You’re still breathing hard, too overwhelmed to process. "You... You were chasing me."

His eyes flicker, just for a moment, like he's trying to measure your reaction. "I wasn’t chasing you." His gaze sharpens. "I was keeping you safe."

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. The man's presence settled like a weight in the pit of your stomach.

"Safe?" You barely recognise your own voice, it’s so shaky, so small, “From who?”

"From him." His hand gestures behind him, toward the empty space behind them. "I’m afraid he's no longer a concern."

You don’t know what to say. Part of you wants to run, to question everything about this night, but you can’t move. You can only stand there, trembling, wondering if you’re even safe at all.

"I'm sorry, I'm being terribly rude" he takes a step back. "My name is Walter, Walter De Ville."

"I think," he continues, his tone softer now, but no less intense, "you’ll find comfort inside. You’ve had enough excitement for one evening."

You feel conflicted, you don't know this man, he's a stranger. "Okay..." your voice shaky. "I live about 5 minutes away." You start walking down the street, your legs feel as if they might give out, but Walter makes no move to follow you. Instead, before you can take two steps, his hand grasps your wrist, harshly.

"I know, but I am not sure I would forgive myself if I let you go home and spend the night alone. Someone could still be out there." His eyes look into yours, icy and blue. "Please, stay at mine tonight, there's plenty of space."

You stand there, you know you shouldn't agree, there is no rational reason for you to go to his house. Yet, at the same time, you feel safe. Safe in a way you cannot explain. His presence comforts you, it feels strong and sturdy. So when your voice comes out quiet, almost silent you, decide just to go with it.

"Are you sure? I really wouldn't want to impose or-."

"I insist."

Walter smiles down at you, placing a strong hand on the small of your back, leading you down the street. "I've called a car, should just be around the corner."

As you round the corner, you see the car, you can tell its expensive, with its sleek and black exterior. The man standing beside it nods at you as you approach.

"That's Mr Field, the butler," Walter explains. "We'll take very good care of you. You mustn't worry about anything."

But before you reach the car, your eyes find a huddled shape in the alleyway, and you recognise it as the same alley you ran through mere minutes ago. As you step closer, the shape becomes clear. A body. A pool of blood spreading around it.

Walter follows your gaze, his voice as even as ever. "As I told you," he says, "the man who was following you is no longer of any concern."

He leaves no room for conversation, opening the car door and ushering you inside. You follow him with your gaze as he rounds the car, sliding in next to you and leaning forward to Mr Field. "Home, thank you."

You feel the car start to pull away.

You must have fallen asleep, because you wake to the sensation of movement beneath you. A slow, steady rise and fall. Your head is resting against something firm.

Then the realisation sets in.

Your eyes open just enough to take in the dim, leather interior of the car. It’s no longer moving, and you can make out the shape of Mr Field walking away. Walter’s dark, rich, scent surrounds you, and as your mind clears, you become painfully aware that you’re not just leaning against him. You’re curled against him, tucked neatly into his side.

Your body stiffens slightly, and before you can pull away, his voice breaks the silence.

"Comfortable?" There’s a hint of amusement in his tone, making you want to disappear. You've known this man for maybe an hour and you're sleeping on him.

Heat creeps up your neck as you shift, sitting up far too quickly. "I wasn’t—"

Walter chuckles softly, turning to look at you. "You were," he corrects smoothly. "Quite soundly, in fact. It was... endearing." His gaze flickers over you.

You open your mouth to argue, but he’s already reaching over, unbuckling your seatbelt effortlessly. Before you can process what’s happening, his arms slide beneath you, lifting you bridal style as if you weigh nothing at all.

"Walter—"

"Please, call me Walt."

"Ok, Walt—"

"You’re exhausted," he states simply, stepping out of the car taking you with him. "And I did promise to take care of you, didn't I?"

You exhale, relaxing just enough to let yourself slowly doze off in his arms. Trusting him just enough.

Just a little.

You wake up slowly, wrapped in the warmth of the duvet. For a moment, you forget where you are, until your eyes flutter open, taking in the grand bedroom, the heavy drapes filtering in only the softest traces of light.

Right.

You sit up, stretching the stiffness from your limbs. On the bedside table, you see a note, folded neatly beside a dress he's laid out for you.

I’ll return by evening. Make yourself comfortable. Mrs Swift will be there if you need anything.

There’s no signature, but he doesn’t need one. Your eyes drift to the clothes he’s left for you.

You reach for the dress, your fingers brushing over the fabric, so soft it barely feels real. It’s delicate, impossibly so, as if it belongs to another era entirely. The bodice is fitted, the sheer lace hugs your skin just right. The sleeves, if they can even be called that, are wisps of mesh and the skirt flows over your body like liquid, pooling in gentle waves around your feet.

It’s the kind of dress meant to be admired rather than simply worn. And somehow, you have no doubt that was exactly his intention. Another quiet reminder that, despite everything that feels wrong, he intends to take care of you.

And yet, beneath that, there’s the lingering truth you’re trying not to think about too hard.

Walter isn’t normal.

And whether you admit it or not, you’re about to spend the day in the home of a man who you're pretty sure isn't quite human.

You decide to explore, if you're to be alone until Walter returns, you may as well familiarise yourself with the estate. The mansion is eerily quiet as you wander through its corridors. The architecture is stunning. The dark wood, the intricate carvings, the bookshelves that seem to stretch endlessly.

What captures your attention though is the lack of any personal touches. No photographs. No clutter, no sign of life beyond the perfectly arranged furniture and candlelight, even in the middle of the day.

Pushing open a door to what looks like a study, your eyes scan over the neatly stacked papers, the antique desk, the massive fireplace. And then, you notice something.

A wine glass, still half-full.

You step closer, expecting to find deep red wine, but the liquid is thicker, darker. Your stomach twists.

"Ah, you’re awake."

The voice startles you, and you turn quickly to find a woman standing in the doorway, her expression warm. She’s older, dressed neatly, with sharp eyes that seem to assess you in a single glance, despite that, you feel no threat from her.

"You must be Mrs. Swift," you say, remembering the name Walter had mentioned in the note.

She nods, stepping inside. "And you must be her," she muses, as if that alone explains something. She glances at the glass on the desk but says nothing about it. Instead, she smiles, folding her hands neatly in front of her. "I imagine you have questions."

You swallow. You should be afraid. You should. But the fear doesn’t settle, not fully. Instead, there’s a strange sort of inevitability to it. You already know the answers, even if you haven’t spoken them aloud.

Still, you meet her gaze and say, "He’s not human, is he?"

Mrs. Swift exhales, her smile tilting just slightly. "Do I really need to answer that miss?." You look at her, slowly shaking your head.

"No."

The admission should terrify you, but somehow, it doesn’t. Maybe because you’ve felt it all along.

Maybe because, despite everything, you’re still here.

She smiles, turning to leave. "Do wear the dress," she muses, a knowing glint in her eyes. "It’s a favorite of his, and I’m sure he’d love to see you in it."

The dining room is ridiculously grand, the candles flickering around you and reflecting off the polished silver. The place setting before you is pristine, the cutlery and plates are set out perfectly. It’s clear that everything has been prepared for you.

Walter sits across from you, watching with an easy, unreadable expression. He picks up his glass, the deep red liquid swirls inside, catching the glow of the candlelight in a way that makes your stomach twist.

"You’ve barely touched your food," he says, voice smooth as ever. There’s no teasing in it, he's simply observing you.

You shift slightly, pushing a bite around with your fork before finally taking it. He watches, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, clearly satisfied.

"I still can't really believe this is happening," you admit. "Last night, I thought I was going to die. And now I’m having dinner in a mansion with—” You stop yourself, not sure how to finish that sentence.

His lips curve just slightly. "With a monster?"

You hesitate, your fork hovering over your plate. "I was going to say ‘a man I don’t know.’"

Walter chuckles, the sound low, quiet, and undeniably amused.

"Ah, but that would be a lie, wouldn’t it? You know me, at least you do now. You know what I am. What I’m capable of." He tilts his head slightly, studying you intently.

"And yet, here you are."

For a moment the room goes silent. He’s right. You could have left. You could have run. And yet, for some reason, you stayed.

"I suppose I should be thanking you," you say, nearly whispering, finally meeting his gaze fully. "For last night, I mean."

Walter lifts his glass in a slow, almost theatrical motion. "It was my pleasure," he says. "I do try to keep my guests from harm."

It should be unsettling, the way he says it, so smooth, so undeniably charming, but it isn’t. Not to you anyways.

Walter watches as you take another sip of wine. The rich taste lingers on your tongue, though you’re not sure if it’s the drink or the way he’s looking at you that’s making your head feel so light.

"You don’t seem as afraid of me anymore," he muses, leaning forward slightly. His voice is still flawlessly smooth, but there’s something else in it now, something that makes your cheeks heat up.

"Should I be?" you counter.

His lips twitch, amusement flickering across his face. "Well, that depends, darling," he murmurs, the nickname rolling off his tongue, sending a shiver down your spine. "Are you the kind of person who enjoys a little danger?"

You roll your eyes, but the increasing warmth creeping up your neck betrays you. "That sounds like something a very dangerous man would say."

He exhales a soft chuckle, tilting his head. "And here you are, dining with him. What does that say about you?"

The air shifts. This time though, it's not fear. It’s something else entirely, something that tightens in your stomach when he slowly traces his finger along the rim of his glass, his icy blue eyes never leaving yours.

"You stayed," he says after a moment, his voice quieter now, more intimate. "Even after understanding what I am. I find that... intriguing."

You swallow, pulse quickening. "Maybe I just wanted dinner."

His smile turns sharper, darker. "Mm. Or maybe," he says, his voice like velvet wrapping around you, he stands up from his chair, slowly rounding the table. You tense as he stops just behind you, the space between you vanishing in an instant. He leans down, you feel his breath ghosting against your skin, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"You wanted something else."

The words linger between you. You should say something quick, something dismissive. But you don’t.

Because maybe he’s right.

"It's getting late," he whispers, hand reaching out to tilt your head towards his. "Perhaps it's time to retire for the night?"

His thumb brushes over your lower lip before you can answer. His touch warm despite the unsettling coolness of his skin. His eyes flicker down, watching the way you react.

He moves, placing a hand on the table beside your plate, caging you in. He's close enough now that you can feel the heat of his body, the way his breath fans over your cheek.

He picks up the delicate wine glass, turning it lazily in his fingers before taking a slow sip. His gaze never leaves yours as he lowers it again, the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

Instead of setting the glass down, he lifts it toward you.

Your fingers brush against his as you take it, and for a moment, you think that’s all it is. But then, just as you bring it to your lips, his other hand moves to your waist, steadying you as he leans in even closer. The sensation of him pressing against your side has you in a trance, his fingers tightening just slightly.

"Good?" he asks, his voice low.

You nod, though you're not entirely sure whether it’s in response to the wine or the way his lips have begun to ghost down the line of your jaw, barely touching, just enough to make your breath hitch.

All of a sudden you feel the air whoosh around you, and the next thing you know, your back meets the smooth surface of the table.

His weight hovers over you before his mouth finally claims yours. The kiss starts slow, teasing, but it deepens in an instant, his fingers gripping your waist, pulling you flush against his firm body. You run your hand over his chest, feeling the muscles working beneath his shirt.

A soft sound escapes you, and his restraint snaps. His hand slides down, fingertips pressing into your thigh as he shifts against you, lips trailing lower, over your throat, as if worshipping every inch of skin he can reach.

Just when you think he might push you further, he suddenly pulls back, breathing heavier than before. His eyes are darker now, the blue nearly completely hidden behind his blown pupils, but his lips curve with satisfaction at the way you lie beneath him, breathless.

"Not here," he murmurs, his voice rough. "I have far better places to ruin you."

Before you can respond, his arms slide beneath you, lifting you from the table. You barely have a moment to catch your breath before he carries you toward the grand staircase.

Walter’s grip is firm as he carries you. His pace is unhurried, teasing in itself, as if he’s savoring the anticipation.

The flickering candlelight barely reaches the long, shadowed hall he strides through, but you don’t need to see anything, you can feel the shift in the air, the quiet hush of the mansion pressing in around you. Then, with a slow creak, he pushes open a door, stepping inside.

The room is dark. Luxuriously so. Heavy velvet drapes block out the world beyond, and the vast bed made up with black silks dominates the space. Everything about it feels indulgent.

Walter doesn’t stop until your back meets the bed. He sets you down with deliberate care, but the moment his hands leave you, a shiver rolls through you at the loss of his touch.

He notices.

Well, of course he does, and a smirk finds its way to his face.

You raise yourself on your elbows, studying his features in the limited light. His face seems sharper now, the lines of his cheekbones and jawline more defined.

“Lie back,” he murmurs.

You hesitate for a moment before obeying, your pulse hammering in your throat, not wanting to provoke him. He watches, eyes dark with hunger.

Then he leans over you, bracing one hand beside your head while the other ghosts down your arm, fingertips barely skimming your skin.

“Keep your hands to yourself love,” he orders you and his free hand continues down the length of your torso.

It’s a test. One you already know you’re going to fail.

His lips trail over your jaw, nipping at the skin from time to time. His fingers trace the curve of your waist, his touch teasing and light, keeping you on edge. He takes his time, working his way down, his mouth grazing your throat, his hand slipping lower, and lower and lower.

You shift beneath him, body aching for more, for anything, for something to ground you. But when your fingers twitch, reaching for him, he’s faster.

His hand catches your wrists in an instant, pinning them above your head against the sheets.

Your breath hitches. You test his grip, but it’s useless. He doesn’t even strain to keep you still, it’s effortless, a quiet display of strength, of his unnatural power. The realisation sends a shudder through you, heat pooling deep in your stomach.

He chuckles, no doubt because it took you about two minutes before you failed your one simple instruction. “Impatient are we?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer. His lips return to your throat, trailing lower, slow and torturous. His fingers slip beneath the fabric of your dress and move your flimsy underwear to the side. When he finally touches you where you need him the most, it’s agonizingly slow, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

Walter watches, savoring the way you react to him.

“Let’s see how long you last, darling.”

Walter’s grip tightens just slightly around your wrists, his thumb tracing lazy circles over your skin. He doesn’t need to restrain you, you don't stand a chance against him, but he does it anyway. He loves the way your eyes beg for more, relishing in the way your pulse flutters against his lips when he places open-mouthed kisses to your neck.

His fingers work against you, and every touch sends sparks up your back. Every time you get too close to that release you've been craving, he pulls back to leave you aching for more.

When you finally whimper his name, "Walt please—" it happens.

His restraint snaps.

You barely have a moment to react before he releases your wrists, his hands shifting lower, gripping the delicate fabric of your dress.

And then—rip.

The sound of tearing fabric splits through the air.

Your breath catches as the ruined dress falls away in shreds, his hands trailing over the newly bared skin, entranced by the way the light reflects off you.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, almost to himself. Then his gaze flickers back up, dark and ravenous, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I suppose I should have warned you,” he says, voice dripping with amusement. “I never planned on being gentle.”

He pulls away, his gaze fixed on you like a predator watches its prey. His hands, still resting on your skin, now move to the buttons of his shirt.

One by one, they come undone.

He never breaks eye contact, and you feel every inch of his control and dominance; it's suffocating, as he slowly exposes more of his chest.

The moment the shirt hits the floor, his muscles seem to shift in the dim light, the strength beneath the surface no longer hidden.

He’s flawless.

His body is smooth, sculpted, you can’t look away. Every inch of him seems designed to make you need him more.

His fingers brush over your skin again, a fleeting touch, before he reaches for his belt. The buckle clinks in the quiet room, the sound sharp, making your heart race with anticipation.

He pauses, just for a moment, like he’s savouring this, savouring the power he has over you, the way you’re looking up at him with wide eyes.

With a single fluid motion, the belt is gone. His pants follow quickly, sliding off his hips, revealing the tautness of his body. He steps out of them, his gaze still unwavering, watching you as he stands before you, tearing the boxers off his body, fully exposed to you now.

You swallow, mouth dry as you take him in. He doesn’t give you time to look away, stepping closer, his bare skin brushing against yours as he leans over you again. The heat of him is overwhelming, and you feel every inch of him pressing against you.

"You’re perfect," he whispers, low and full of hunger, just before his mouth claims yours again. His words linger in the air, the kiss hot, insistent, demanding.

The heat of him, the solid weight of his body pinning you down, only makes it worse, makes you needier. He knows it, too. The way he moves, the way he presses into you.

His hands skim over your skin, exploring, claiming, pressing into every inch of you as if he wants to memorise how you feel beneath him. He’s still taking his time, but there’s something different now. The patience and self-control he had before is slipping away with every gasp, every arch of your body against his.

You feel his breath at your throat before his lips follow, dragging over the sensitive skin there, his teeth grazing, threatening. He lingers at the pulse point, inhaling deeply, and for a moment, a moment that seems to drag on forever, he hesitates.

And then he bites.

A sharp gasp escapes you as his fangs sink into your neck, but the pain is fleeting, but it's drowned out almost instantly by a sudden, overwhelming rush of sensation. It crashes over you all at once, dizzying, intoxicating.

Your fingers dig into his arms, but you don’t push him away, you can’t. Even if you wanted to, there was no way you would be able to. If anything, you’re pulling him closer.

Walter groans against your skin, low and wrecked, his grip tightening on your waist. You can feel him shaking with the effort of holding back, of keeping himself from completely losing control.

He yanks you against him, pressing his thigh between yours, rolling his hips giving you some of that friction you'd been craving. His hands roam lower, gripping, kneading your body, setting fire to every inch of you he could reach.

When he finally pulls back to look at you, his lips are stained red, his pupils blown wide with hunger.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs, brushing a thumb over your kiss-swollen lips. His voice is rougher now, raw with something dark and unrestrained. He shifts between your legs, lining himself up.

"You ready?" He asks, holding eye contact.

You nod, and you suddenly feel just how much he’s been holding back. The stretch is inevitable, his size enough to make you hesitate, and for the first time tonight, Walter softens, just ever so slightly.

His hand moves to your jaw, making you look at him.

“Breathe,” he murmurs, his voice a deep, soothing command. “You can take it.”

The burn is real, but so is the pleasure that chases it, growing with every slow, deliberate thrust.

He watches you, drinking in every reaction, every sound. He waits just long enough for you to adjust before he moves—a slow, rolling motion that has you arching beneath him.

And then he really lets go.

His grip tightens, his thrusts grow deeper, harder, his breath coming ragged against your ear. He presses your wrists above your head, pinning you effortlessly, and when you try to again test his strength, trying to shift, to move, you find that you still can’t.

A wicked smirk crosses his lips.

“Trying to fight me now, darling?” His voice is pure sin, teasing, taunting. “You’ll lose.”

And you do.

Walter sets a brutal, unrelenting pace, overwhelming in the way he takes you, like he wants to consume you completely.

And the worst part? You want him to.

Pleasure coils tight in your stomach, building to something devastating, something inevitable. Walter can feel it—he knows. His fingers slip between your legs, teasing, pushing you closer, dragging you over the edge slowly.

And then, just when you think you can’t take any more, he presses his mouth to your neck again, tongue flicking over the wound he left earlier—

And bites.

The sensation sends you spiraling, the pleasure shattering through you in waves so intense it leaves you shaking, gasping.

Walter follows moments later, his grip tightening almost painfully as he groans into your skin, burying himself deep one final time before he stills, his entire body rigid with pleasure.

For a long moment, neither of you move. The only sound in the room is your heavy breathing, the occasional aftershock still pulsing through your limp body.

He doesn’t move away, doesn’t give you a chance to drift too far. Instead, his body shifts just enough to wrap around you and cage you in beneath him.

You’re spent, but he stays pressed against you, arm draped over your waist, anchoring you in place. He’s not holding you down anymore, not pinning you with that unrelenting strength, but you can still feel it. The power. The possession. The quiet, unspoken claim on you.

And for some reason, you love it.

“I told you,” he exhales softly, pressing a final kiss to the pulse point on your neck, right where he bit you.

“You were always going to lose.”

And he's right, neither of you are going anywhere.

As Walter looks down on you, watching you be this horny needy little blood doll of his, he can't help but chuckle. Watching you whimper and moan as you grind yourself against the tip of his shoe as you wrap your arms around his leg. Wet, fuckin soaking wet and needy for him you look up at him and bite your lip.

"I'm so wet… so needy…" You whimper. "I need you, Master." You whimper.

"Do you now, Blood Doll?" He asks with a slight arch of his brow.

"Oh, yes Master, I really… really need you. I need you to fill me. I need you to feed on me." You whimpered as you graze your bud against his shoe.

With a soft chuckle, he takes your chin and forces you to look at him. "Beg for it." He states.

Biting your lip you look over his face, your hands sliding up his hips, over the front of his pants pawing at him.

"Please, Master… Please. I need you, so badly, I need you to fuck me, I need you to feed on me. I need your guidance. Please… Please Master." you beg.

"Aww, look at you. Stand up." He demands.

Standing up you look over his face, biting your lip you let out a soft whimper as you press yourself against him. He reaches his hand between your legs and feels how soaking wet you are.

"Now what do we have here my sweet little Blood Doll? Are we soaked?" He asked.

"Yes, Master, that's how badly I need you." You state nodding.

"Well now… I'm sure that can be arranged." He chuckles with that charming smile of his.

Turning you around he makes you face the outside yard as he places your hands on the railing of the gazebo. As he feels himself stiffen from your arousal he groans and slips his hardened member between your folds and groans.

"You're such a needy girl." He groans softly.

"I'm always needy for you master." You moan softly as you grip the railing and let out another soft moan.

As he kisses your bare shoulder he moves the crook of your neck and sinks his fangs right in. You let out a slightly louder moan and grip the railing tightly. Looking down you see the blood from the bite drip down your chest, you bring a hand up and wipe it across your chest, smearing it into the skin as you let out another moan.

Run.

That was the only thing on your mind right now. Your feet hammered against the ground as you ran through the hallway. Your heart pounded against your chest, body aching. Your bag along with your phone was long gone as you ran for your life. Whoever that was, whatever it was that you were running away from, was not human. It looked like one, it sounded like one, but you knew better. An ominous growl came from behind and you could hear footsteps towards you.

You sprinted around the corner and took many twists and turns throughout the house, but every door you came to was somehow now locked, despite not being earlier. Running a few more feet down the hall you managed to find an unlocked door. You quickly ran into the room and silently closed the door before locking it.

It was another bedroom. The windows were barred and there were no other interconnecting rooms. You were screwed. The only places to hide were under the bed and in the closet. You decided against trying to fit your large dress under the bed and slipped into the surprisingly spacious closet. After what felt like an eternity of silence, there was a jiggle of the doorknob. A menacing laugh was heard on the other end of the door, before a large bang, and the door flew open.

Peering through the cracks of the doors, you saw him. You could see his shadow in the dimly lit room as he walked past your hiding spot and looked around. As he padded further into the room, you slid as far back as you could into the clothing, praying he wouldn’t know you were there. Through the thin slots of the closet door, you could see he was just standing there. Almost like he was thinking. Your eyes closed, and you silently hoped he would just go check somewhere else. That’s when you heard it.

"There you are."

Your eyes shot open. The door to the closet was pulled open, and he was staring directly into your soul. You quickly duck as he reaches out to grab you and somehow manage to make it to the other door. Just as your hand goes to turn the knob, a pair of hands reach around your waist, and you let out a scream you didn’t even know your voice was capable of creating. For a split second, you feel the wind around you, then the bed sheets violently connect with your back. You wished the mattress would just swallow you whole. Too afraid to look at the monster hovering above, you turn your face to the side. The creature finally speaks.

“Well, that took longer than expected. Had me thinking you’d actually make it out of here.”

“We had a deal.” There was nothing to hide how your voice trembled. The bed shook as he actually laughed.

“I don’t think you quite understood the rules of the game, honey. The rules were, if you managed to make it outside, I would let you go. But if you didn’t…” His hand finds its way around your throat and your shaking continues as he forces you to look at his face. The only thing catching your attention are the two abnormally sharp canines in his mouth. “Then you would stay here, with me.” He looks around the room and then back at you. “Last time I checked, you’re still in the house sweetheart.” He sees the tears running down your face and brushes them away with his other hand. “Don’t be so sad about it. Think of it this way. I try to be a man of my word. If you did find some magical way of making it outside, I would’ve let you go. No surprises, no tricks, nothing… but you didn’t. Do you know what that means?” His grip around your throat gets tighter and you feel a small amount of blood run as one of his claws scratches the side of your neck. He takes a deep inhale and groans. “That means we can have all the fun I had planned for you.”

Your eyes widen in fear and you want to move, but you can’t due to his grip around your throat. He turns your head to the side and you close your eyes. Not wanting to know what he’s going to do. Reaching down to your neck, he sticks his tongue out and licks up the bead of blood that gathered on your neck. Your entire body shakes. Moving his head, you can feel his fangs graze against your ear as he whispers. “Oh, the things I can show you, little one.”

“AND CUT!”

Thomas’ hand instantly leaves your throat and he takes your hands to pull you up so your back is against the headboard. “Are you alright? You were shaking really bad.” Not trusting your voice at the moment, you nod your head and laugh nervously. “Dude, you’re scary as fuck.” He laughs in response and wraps his arms around you in a hug. You do the same and the director, Oliver, comes over to the side of the bed visibly concerned. “Are you two okay?”

Looking over at Thomas, he gives you a smile and gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. You nod and smile. “Yeah, we’re good Oli.” He offers his hand and helps get the two of you out of the ridiculously large bed. As you straighten out your dress, Oliver speaks again. “I know we only did one take, but that was probably the best one we’ve gotten since filming started.” He turns and looks at you. “There was no point throughout the entire scene where I wasn’t genuinely scared for you. If the two of you keep this up, we might finish ahead of schedule.” The two of you thank him and walk over to his chair to watch the playback of the scene.

One of the assistants brings water for the two of you and you both thank her. Oliver plays the scene back from the beginning and instead of focusing on your own work, the second Thomas appears on the screen, and suddenly you feel the heat making its way through your body.

He looked really good.

And those fangs…

You could melt into the floor right about now. Oliver and Thomas are talking but you can’t manage to listen in on the conversation, let alone say anything. Your attention was on Thomas and how he managed to look attractive and terrifying at the same time. There were times when you swore the only reason he signed onto this film was because he liked being a bad guy. It was like he reveled in it, and he did it so well. Your eyes stay glued to the screen and you don’t notice Thomas watching how you respond to his presence.

You tossed your keys onto the counter of your hotel room, your shoes come off and you let yourself fall back on the bed. A loud sigh leaves your lips. There has never been a day that you wanted filming to end so badly. After a couple of seconds, you throw your phone on the charger and finally pull yourself up from the bed, grab your towel and clothes, and head for a much-needed shower. You quickly change and when the temperature is just right, you step in and immediately feel your shoulders relax.

As you wash your body off, you start to think to yourself, why were you so worked up today? After the first scene with Thomas, every slight brush of his hand against yours, or hand on your back sent a wave of heat throughout your body. Simple motions that are seemingly harmless in nature were reducing you to a trembling mess. Granted, you don't have a partner, so sexual frustration could definitely be the cause, but why now? You feel the heat spread to your core just at the thought. Shaking your head, you finish your shower and change into your shirt and underwear that you brought into the bathroom with you.

After drying your hair, the steam from your previous shower dissipates as you walk into the other room and you look around confused.

You could've sworn you kept the lights on.

Shaking your head, you cut on the soft light on your nightstand and reach for your phone.

Which was not on the charger where you left it.

Now you're starting to freak out.

Looking around the room, it seems like your phone is nowhere in sight. Almost like it disappeared. You check your bag, in case you didn't actually plug it in, but it's not there. Nothing in the clothes you wore that day, hell, you even checked your suitcase. Your phone is just gone. Going over to the hotel phone, you pick it up and try to dial your number, only to realize the phone cord is missing from the base. You stand there frustrated and a little scared for a couple of seconds before a voice snaps your head towards the front door.

"You didn't think I'd make it easy for you to call for help, did you?"

Slowly reaching for the heaviest thing closest to you, the shadow walks into the light and you let out a sigh of relief. "Jesus, Thomas. You can't sneak up on someone when they're fresh out of the shower!" Walking over to him, you ask. "So unless a crazed fan managed to break in, I'm assuming you have my phone?" He pulls something out of his pocket and you see the familiar case, indicating he did in fact, have it.

Flashing it in front of your face, you reach to grab your phone, but he leans away from you so you can't take it. "Yeah, I don't think you'll be needing it tonight." Giving him a "Really?" you go to get your phone and he pulls it away from your grasp once again. Letting out a frustrated huff, you put your hands on your hips. "Come on Thomas, give me my phone. I have to check my emails." You see him toss your device behind him, lucky that there was a couch sitting where it landed, and when he turns back to you, he speaks again. "Like I said. I don't think you'll be needing it tonight. After all, why would I make it easy for you to call for help?" Your eyebrows furrow, and you laugh, although slightly uncomfortable with how the air in the room seemed to shift. It felt, darker. Every bone in your body told you to leave. Turning around to look for a pair of pants, you mumble to yourself. "Alright, I did not plan on my night ending like this."

Turning around, you let out a scream and drop your sweatpants as a hand comes up and covers your mouth. He was standing so close you could feel his breath on your face. Looking Thomas in the eyes, they were dark, and you suddenly felt like you were no longer safe in his presence. "I don't think you quite understand the rules of the game honey." He stares into your eyes and the next thing you know, your feet are walking backward on their own until you are stopped by the edge of the bed. He remembers his hand is covering your mouth and speaks again. "The rules were, if you managed to make it outside, I would let you go. But if you didn’t…Then you would stay with me. Do you know what that means?” You struggle to get out a couple of muffled sounds when he brings his face closer to yours. “That means we can have all the fun I had planned for you.”

Your eyes widen as the lamp in the room shows his face fully, and that's when you see it.

He was in the outfit from the first scene you two filmed earlier that morning. You glance down at his mouth and you feel the heat pool at your legs.

He had the fangs in.

He leans his mouth down against your ear like he did earlier that day, and repeated the same line. “Oh, the things I can show you, little one.” Next thing you know you're being laid down on the bed, and the man you once knew as your friend was hovering over you. "What do you want with me?" Your voice was weak, and judging from the smile that never left his face, he was enjoying this. He was enjoying toying with you. He leans down and drags his tongue against your neck, earning a strained whine to leave your mouth. "I simply want what I've been waiting this whole time for…you. I've seen the way you look at me when you think nobody is watching. And it made me want to take you then and there, but no. I couldn't do it with so many people around. So, what better time than now? Your phone is off, the landline is disconnected, and as far as anybody coming to rescue you goes, they all think you're headed to sleep with the rest of the cast."

If there was any time to hate yourself for not wearing pants to bed, now was that time. Thomas moved your legs apart with his knee and ground his hips into you, showing you just how tight the bulge in his jeans had become. You let out a small gasp that he managed to catch, and he let out a smile. "Something tells me you're enjoying yourself more than I expected. I don't even think I'll have to compel you." His large hands lift up the bottom of your shirt, exposing your underwear, and you shiver as the cool night air exposes you in such an intimate place. He carefully pulls the thin fabric down and off your ankles with ease, and your body goes tense. He looks you in the eyes and asks the last question you thought could ever come out of his mouth.

"Do I have your permission honey?" You shift needily against the bed as you let out a small "Yes." That's the only approval he asks before his fingers gently reach down and feel the wetness between your folds and you sigh quietly. A groan leaves his lips. "Is all that for me baby? You like it when I touch you like this?" His slender fingers brush against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through you, making you unknowingly moan. "There we go. You're such a good girl for me." He does it again, and again until he's rubbing gentle circles on your clit at an agonizingly slow pace. Your body relaxes into the bed as Thomas continues whispering into your ear. "That's is baby. Relax. It's just you and me. I want you to enjoy this."

He was taking his time with you, and to an outsider looking in, it was almost sweet. Not long after, the fear left your brain and was replaced with nothing but bliss. He must've been able to tell when your last fighting bit of sanity faded because he became more eager. "There's so much I want to do with you, honey. I want to taste you until you cum on my tongue. Wanna feel you clench around my cock as I ravish you." His hand on your clit sped up a little. "I wanna see the look on your face when you come undone because of me. At first, I didn't think you could take it. But I know you can. I know you can take all of me. I know you can handle everything I give you because you're such a good girl, and I know you wanna be good for me. Right baby?" Your small whimpers have progressed to moans as you stop fighting the sensation and start to welcome it.

Out of nowhere, the feeling is gone as he removes his fingers from your clit, but quickly replaced them when he lays down and licks through your folds. Your breathing was fast and heavy as his tongue went to work. The sensation builds when he slips two fingers into you and easily starts pumping them in and out. You were almost there, and he could tell. He moaned against your clit and gently grazed it with his fangs, and that was all it took before you exploded. You threw your head back against the bed as you came, and Thomas latched onto your clit sucking on it to prolong your orgasm for as long as he could.

He finally pulls his fingers out of you and licks them clean before standing up and discarding his clothes in an almost superhuman nature, before he's back to hovering over you. His lips attach to yours and you eagerly kiss him back, tasting yourself on his tongue. "If you taste that good, I can only imagine what you feel like." Looking down at him, your eyes get wide.

He's not abnormally huge, but definitely bigger than any man you've been with to date. He rubs his cock between your folds and you moan at the overstimulation, still coming down from your high. He rests his hand on the back of your head and looks you in the eyes. "You're going to take all of me, yeah?" You can only nod as you no longer trust your voice. He leans down and captures your mouth in a kiss again as he slowly pushes inside you.

He releases your mouth to let out a moan, and by god… this was the moment you realized you were in over your head. Every time you thought he was fully in, he would slide in more, and more. He finally bottoms out and you swear you're seeing stars. No, fuck that. You were seeing galaxies. He only gives you a few moments to adjust to his size before he pulls himself almost all the way out, and sinks back in. Your eyes roll to the back of your head.

The pace was brutally slow but felt wonderful. You couldn't pay attention to anything but how he felt, and it felt ungodly. He finds his own rhythm within a few thrusts and it was like you died and went to wherever the hell you were currently. He brings his other hand from around your waist and slides it down to your leg, wrapping it around his waist and allowing him to sink in just a little deeper, and you cry out.

A smile forms on his lips and he keeps his hand on your leg, refusing to let you not feel the full extent of what this angle could provide. Noticing your hands are gripping your bedsheets, he moves his hand from behind your head and takes your own to grab at his body. He thrusts into you again, and again, over and over, the new angle allowing him to drag his cock against just the right spot that drove you wild. Leaning down to rest his forehead against yours, he pants out. "Fuck, baby. It's like this sweet pussy of yours was made for me."

You could feel your second orgasm building and lord help you because you were so close. Thomas seemed to notice as well, your walls practically trying to suck him in completely. He speeds up his pace ever so slightly and that's when you feel the pressure of his hand going around your neck. He leans down and talks into your ear. "I can feel you're close honey. God. I'm going to put a fucking baby in you. Would you like that? You want me to cum inside this gorgeous little cunt, huh?" You moan and try to nod as your nails scratch up and down his arms and back. "Yes, yes Thomas, please!" He laughs a little at how you answered him. "Aw, yeah? You're so cock drunk you're begging me to cum inside your pretty pussy?" He makes you look at him as your eyes keep closing. "Beg for it again, and maybe, if you're good for me, I'll let you cum."

Your voice is nothing but whimpers and whines as you plead with your eyes. A chorus of "Please." leaves your mouth and that satisfies him to the point where he is kissing and sucking on the side of your neck. "I want you to cum, and I want you to let everybody in this hotel know whose cock is making you feel this good. Can you do that for me?" You just nod as you feel your orgasm teetering on the edge. He applies more pressure against your throat, and that's all it takes. As your climax begins, he sinks his teeth into your neck, and you let out a struggling moan from the sensation as you cum. The only name on your lips is his over and over, like a broken record. Thomas moans against your neck and he starts to tense, holding you as close to him as possible. He seats himself as far into you as he can, and the warm feeling of his cock shooting his cum inside you only prolongs your orgasm.

After the two of you finally come down from your respective highs, he turns the two of you on your side and lies there. Giving you a chance to intake some form of oxygen. You pant out a weak "Oh my god." and you feel the rumble from his body as he laughs. "I told you, adding the fangs would be a great idea." It takes every ounce of energy in your body to raise your arm and playfully hit him. "Shut up, that was God tier even if you didn't have them in." He laughs again and as he agrees, you ask, "Where the hell did all that dirty talk come from?" Thomas shrugs his shoulders and smiles. "A master of his craft never reveals his secrets." Playfully rolling your eyes, a yawn escapes your mouth.

Thomas pulls out of you and you sigh sadly at the loss of contact, only for him to pull the blanket over you and get up off the bed to grab your phones. You watch as he plugs them both into the wall and climbs back into bed before cutting the light off. Cuddling into his chest, your legs intertwine and you both lay there in comfortable silence, until a thought pops into your head, making you laugh a little. "What's so funny?" You think about the situation and explain.

“Your eyes look so heavy” he cooed as he kept gathering you and turning the tv off in the process. “I was watching that” you said and he tuts you as he picks you up and starts heading to your bedroom.

“You my darling we’re so close to dozing off and we cannot have that. Your health is far more important than some show” he says as he gently places you down on the bed. You grumble in response to tired to reason with the vampire.

You eye him as he takes his shirt off and paces to the other side of the bed. He gets under the covers and pulls you closer to him, holding you against his bare chest.