#will request

Red hot heat radiated from the hand print and crudely cut NS on Will's cheek. The welt covered the supple flesh almost entirely. Noah delicately placed his hand over it and even more gently soothed the mark, further smearing trickles of blood and earning a shaky gasp plus a shiver from Will. It throbbed beneath his palm.

"I like how this looks." Noah's voice came out steady and calm despite feral lust burning through him. "You should get it tattooed."

He pressed his thumb against his initials until Will squirmed, then dug his nail into them. Will choked on a whimper in a futile attempt to move; the spreader bar kept his legs apart, spread wide so Noah could see everything he wanted—cock heavy and leaking, twitching with every deep breath, his hole wet, glistening with spit, puckering, pleading to be filled or played with again—and his arms in place, wrists bound to the middle so Noah could watch him fruitless grasp at nothing.

Will cried out when Noah's hand made contact with his ass again, harshly and painfully. The sting had almost dulled to numbness, but blossomed intensely once more.

"Did that hurt?" Noah cooed.

"Y-yeah." Will choked.

Gently, Noah ran his hand over the hand print. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No."

"Do you need a second?"

"No." Will sighed.

Noah reached for Will's knife and flicked the blade open.

"Good," he said, trailing the tip of the knife up the length of his cock, "because I'm not done marking you yet."

He positioned the the blade on Will's unblemished cheek and sliced his initials once more until his flesh—only now, Noah paired it with a plus sign and WR. Crimson bloomed, swelled until it trickled down, leaving bloody trails. Noah licked the blade clean before tossing it aside and licking up the blood he drew. Will whined.

Carved with bone and stained with his own blood, Noah kneeled before the stone structure, its likeness stood behind him. Fingers warm with the heat of hellfire slithered from the base of his skull to mask his eyes, tilting his head back to bare his throat.

“A fine offering for worship,” Will praised, silky smooth and saccharine. “Such attention to detail. Is this how you view me?”

Noah suppressed the shudder that threatened to make him a fool—but his composure faltered as His fingers migrated to his throat, deftly caressing the sensitive flesh. He sighed quietly, breathless and needy.

“Y-yes.”

Tentatively, he allowed his eyes to open, heart hammering against his ribs as Will gazed down at him with a similar wonder and devotion that he gazed up at Him with.

“Others would kill to be my favorite, you know.” He stared intensely at Noah, hoping to invoke just a sliver of fear. “But none are as loyal and devote… deserving as you.”

Will delicately pushed Noah’s hair out of his reverent eyes. For a long moment, He just stared, admiring his unearthly beauty and pondering how mortals could make offspring so perfect. It was terribly unbecoming of Him to harbor such emotions for a human, but how could He not?

“You should be rewarded.”

He stepped around Noah, keeping one hand on his head. Slowly, Will sank to His knees in front of him. Noah attempted to protest, but He silenced him with fingers pressed to his lips.

Seated in the farthest, darkest corner of the quaint lounge, Nicholas mindlessly swirled his drink. A tall, curly haired man adorned in a red and black floral suit stood center stage. His voice, smooth and robust, carried easily on the cigarette and cigar smoke, blending seamlessly with the melody of the piano. Patrons—even a few waitstaff—were enamored. Nicholas supposed to a degree he was as well.

The man seemed to thrive off the attention, heavily tattooed hands caressing the mic stand, eyes closed and allowing the music to flow through him. Stage light caught the necklace he wore, the glittering sparkle of diamond and pearl almost blinding but wholly mesmerizing.

Squinting, Nicholas sipped his drink. While enchanting, something was off about about him, something he couldn't place or explain. It was more a feeling than anything—a weird prickling at the base of his skull and what he could only describe as an unsettling fascination. He couldn't even call it attraction—though he was quite attractive. Even more tattoos sprawled from under the collar of his shirt and lined his jaw. Perfect blonde ringlets almost moved of their own volition. Yes, the man was quite attractive, but even still, in a way Nicholas failed to pinpoint.

He opened his eyes, a sorrowful expression etched in his features, matching the tone of his song. The man slowly scanned the crowd, ensuring each person received a personal stare down. When his eyes met Nicholas', it was like a magnet, an instant connection, instant pull. He kept his gaze trained on him, distant melancholic brown shifting into something more determined, purposeful, almost hypnotic. Nicholas squinted more, seafoam mere slivers as he watched his serenade.

No longer did it feel meant for the lounge patrons. It felt as if he were singing directly to Nicholas, for Nicholas. Held captive by his stare.

And then, just as quickly as it began, it was over. Whistling and polite yet loud clapping filled the space. A wide smile appeared on the man's face, bowing with an arm exaggeratedly extended, pride and elation radiating from him in waves. That peculiar prickling in his skull eased, but there was still a tug when their eyes met again, even though it was brief. He disappeared behind the deep sapphire curtain—and subsequently, the prickling ceased entirely. Nicholas felt… normal.

The hushed hustle and bustle of the lounge resumed. Patrons and employees flittered about, some going out of their way to offer polite smiles, but most entirely ignoring him. Nicholas, however, kept a sharp eye on every passerby, every movement, searching for a weak spot. It'd been too long since he last fed, and he really needed a meal.

His hunting wass cut short by a familiar prickling and intrusion. How Nicholas managed to not catch the man's presence until now was beyond him. He was usually quick and keen to notice even the most minor shift in detail.

"Your staring isn't all that subtle, you know." The man spoke lightly, a little too friendly. "You don't get anyone that way."

He sat directly beside him, brightly colored drink garnished with two cherries in hand; an all too casual air surrounded him. Attractive in every sense of the word, but also in a way that left Nicholas a little unsettled. His grin was unassuming, with teeth a touch too sharp to be human. Perfect, immaculate ringlets that appeared saturated with water moved effortlessly with him as he adjusted in his seat.

The diamond and pearls didn't glitter like under the stage light, but the subtle shimmering still drew Nicholas' eyes to the man's partially exposed, equally heavily tattooed neck—a soft yet vivid hibiscus, a face or perhaps mask, and a frog. Ink continued along his jaw, black swirls that spread to the side of his head, and even more ink disappeared under the buttoned portions of his shirt.

"Vampires," Nicholas narrowed his eyes, "tend to be a little more…"

The man trailed off and plucked a cherry from his drink. He held it in the air, letting it dangle over his drink while droplets of bright red syrup dripped. His tongue curled around the fruit, drawing attention to his mouth and his definitely too sharp to be human teeth. Red collected on his lips as he bit, dribbling down the center and settling in the divot below his lip.

Nicholas zeroed in on the color, pupils dilating so intensely he swore he felt it—and it must have been obvious, because the man flashed a sharp, toothy grin.

"Oh, poor thing. You must be starving." He swiped his thumb across his chin. "Or, you're just very young. Naïve. Inexperienced."

"I don't like assumptions." Nicholas curtly replied.

Amused, the man scoffed as he plucked the second cherry from his drink and popped it inside his mouth, stem included. Nicholas narrowed his gaze, curiously watching him. His jaw moved too much and peculiarly to just be chewing. He could only imagine the difficultly of getting through the stem, and he also didn't understand the appeal of wanting to eat it.

Unassuming brown locked with his cold steel. Something began festering somewhere inside him, slowly spreading like roots, tangling easily with his nerves. It squeezed and squeezed and squeezed, heavy and tight like a vice. Static coursed through him; dull ringing penetrated his ears, reverberating profoundly. Nicholas could feel the grating buzz in his teeth, irritating the back of his throat, itching to the point of insanity. He wanted to stick his fingers in every orifice of his face and claw and scratch until he felt relief—but it seemed impossible to tear his gaze away from the man.

At the same time a wry smile crept onto the man's face, haze infiltrated Nicholas' mind, choking and suffocating all his thoughts until all that resided was him.

Ever so, he cocked his head to the side. The tiniest sliver of the cherry stem poked between his lips. Nicholas saw the movement more than he heard his voice.

"Care to tell me your name?"

"Nicholas." His reply was near instantaneous.

"Nicholas." The man repeated.

He slid the cherry stem out of his mouth—perfectly tied into a knot—and pointed it at him. "Well, Nicholas, I didn't expect you to be so… willing."

Blankly, Nicholas blinked, wholly unaware of what he meant. The smile the man gave was unsettling, like he knew an obvious secret and was waiting for Nicholas to catch on.

"How about," he stood, extending a hand out to him, "you show me how willing you can be, hm?"

Without hesitation, Nicholas grabbed it. The man's smile grew into a grin, flashing sharp teeth. He felt disconnected from his body, yet somehow his limbs were both weightless and made of lead. Not dizzy, maybe a little disoriented. His surroundings were clear, but it mattered so little; all his focus, all his attention was on the man dragging him along. He acknowledged each and every pleasantry shot his way, either with a nod, bright smile, or wave. No one seemed to notice Nicholas stumbling behind—and if they did, they certainly didn't care.

One person went out of their way to totally disrupt him, stepping right in their path. Nicholas caught a brief glance of a scathing glare before it shifted into something a little more friendly. His smile was forced as he spoke, mindlessly nodding along and halfheartedly pretending to care about the drivel spilling from their mouth.

The static tingle beneath Nicholas' skin intensified, heating his blood and making him sweat. Subconsciously, he squeezed the man's hand in an attempt to ground himself. He seemed to understand because he interrupted them, excusing himself and Nicholas and hastily hurried to… Where were they going? Why was he following this man again? …Who even is this?

He stopped abruptly, trying to rack his brain for answers he wasn't given. The man looked over his shoulder, head cocked to the side, brown eyes curious. Despite knowing literally nothing about him, a frenzied flutter blossomed in Nicholas' chest, heart racing uncontrollably. He squeezed his hand harder. The man raised his brow.

"I don't… know your name?" Nicholas furrowed his brow.

A much smaller, softer smile—perhaps almost kind—spread on the man's face. He exhaled, just as soft but with a hint of amusement. Turning to face him, he unlaced their loosely entwined fingers, but kept a gentle grasp on Nicholas' hand as he brought it to his lips.

His gaze was intense, hot and heavy as his breath as he spoke.

"I'm going to keep your mouth much too busy for you to be calling out my name." He paused for a moment, squinting at him as if he were studying Nicholas. "Although… Maybe I might enjoy hearing beg for me."

But Nicholas didn't learn his name—not when they disappeared into a dressing room, not when he was grabbed by his throat and pulled into a slow kiss that left him dazed and weak-kneed. He could only gasp and swear as too many sharp teeth scraped along his neck, daring to puncture the sensitive flesh. Nicholas nearly let himself go completely limp, subconsciously surrendering to the arms keeping him upright.

Not even when the man had Nicholas down on his knees, struggling to swallow down his cock—yet another part of him that wasn't quite human: it glistened, slick with a natural sticky lubricant, where there should've been a vein instead were small, bumpy ridges that Nicholas discovered both of them enjoyed having his tongue massage, and a thick shaft with subtle, smooth swellings on either side—did he share his name.

The hand tangled in his raven locks kept him in place so he could bruise the back of his throat. Drool and slick leaked from his mouth, making a mess of his chin and the man's lap. His cock pulsed and throbbed, growing warmer and warmer by the second. Nicholas wondered if he was getting close.

He moaned over and over, silently encouraging him to fill his mouth—except the man abruptly pulled him off and shoved his face to his thigh. Briefly, he caught a glimpse of his cock: engorged, swollen, and flushed from base to leaking tip.

"Bite." The man commanded, wrapping a tattooed hand around himself and squeezing enough to elicit a deep groan.

Nicholas turned just enough to look up at him, catching sight of eyes much darker then before. The whites had turned black, his pupil's and iris' also blending seamlessly. If he wasn't wary of his humanness before, Nicholas was now certain he was not. Light caught the newfound abysses inhabiting his skull, reflecting silver then revealing a quick flicker of blue that Nicholas thinks could have been a trick.

"Bite, Nicholas." He said again, tone sharp like his teeth.

A deep growl rumbled in his chest, accompanied by a whole body tremble as Nicholas sank his fangs into the sensitive and tender flesh of his inner thigh. Blood—thinner than it should have been—flooded his mouth, seeped between his teeth, coated every inch of his tongue; he couldn't drink fast enough. What he failed to swallow dribbled from the corners of his mouth and down his chin until he felt wet trails disappearing under and into his shirt collar.

He slurped, slurped, slurped, slurped; it just kept coming, with no end in sight. Resigned to feast forever, Nicholas closed his eyes and allowed himself a blissful, indulgent moment. However, it was short lived. A fist twisted in his hair and he was being pulled off and hauled up. Clumsily, he found himself perched in the man's lap, those same dark, dark eyes burning holes through him.

"Do you still want to know my name?" He asked.

It seemed silly and unimportant at this point, but Nicholas did still want to know.

"Yes." Blood trickled out of his mouth.

And once more, instead of being told, Nicholas was met with another kiss, except this one was frantic, bruising and fierce. He latched onto the man's suit jacket with a white knuckled grip. The man kept his hand tangled in Nicholas' hair while he used the other to pry one of his off his jacket, guiding it down to his incredibly slick, swollen, and throbbing cock. He closed his hand around Nicholas' and set a fast pace, groaning unashamed into his mouth.

Nicholas swore razor sharp teeth nicked his lip, the sting implied more than just a nibble, but he couldn't be sure if the blood was "his" or what he just consumed.

The man bucked, then spilled, sticky, thick ropes of what Nicholas assumed semen coating their hands. He wanted to glance and see if the color was the same as his, but he didn't want to break the kiss quite yet.

But he had different plans. He tugged Nicholas' hair until he was able to pull him away enough to see red staining his mouth. His other hand came in view, and without being asked or prompted, Nicholas parted his lips, allowing him to slip semen covered fingers between them.

The grin he gave was wholly unsettling, mouth full of red, sharp teeth, and much to wide for his face. Paired with his pitch black stare, Nicholas felt like prey in the grasp of a Great White Shark.

"My name is Will."

Will Masterlist

Ruffilo Masterlist

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Noah was scared to touch Him, terrified he’d blemish His holy skin, taint beyond the flesh down to the bone. But Will had no qualms about touching him—delicate hands blazing fire in his blood, lips caressing and blossoming flowers in the wake of beautifully scorched nerves. Noah, an altar for Him, uniquely divine and sacred in a way he couldn’t fathom.

Will left no inch of Noah unblessed; from the top of his head to the sole of his feet saw some form Heaven. The reverential, angelic amber glow of His eyes felt almost blasphemous, wasted on him, but a fool Noah would be to not indulge in such honor.

Will meant it. He meant it with his whole fucking chest, his whole fucking soul, with every fiber of his being and everything that made him. He meant it. You were his everything, his shoulder, his rock.

So obsessed it was damn near detrimental. Try as he might, he just couldn’t let go. No matter how much it fucking hurt, he ignored the cuts on his hands, the excruciating ache of the blade in his heart that you placed there for safe keeping, the water filling his lungs as he drowned over and over and over and over and over and over again. All of it. He convinced himself he could endure it for you, so you could have someone there to catch you when you fall, or when you shatter into a million little pieces.

As long as he had his best friend, it’d be worth the pain—nevermind the flow of bodies and the indentations they left in your bed that he’d fill when their infatuation dissolved.

But he was beginning to erode, so slowly at first he hardly noticed. Will thought the cracks in his skin were just veins peeking through the ink. When he touched one, it gave way, exposing raw nerves and things of himself he’d never seen, things that should be inside him. He panicked and began flailing, searching for you along the shore.

A glimmer of hope, like a beacon in the dead of night you stood with an outstretched arm, hand only mere centimeters from his. Will desperately reached out, only it was the wrong hand. It was no longer there—disintegrated in the water surrounding him; so he tried the other, but this one crumbled the second you touched him.

He didn’t understand your utter lack of concern. Why were your eyes so cold and distant? Why weren’t you mirroring his panic?

His outstretched hand cracked before his eyes and as he took hold of yours, Will watched in abject horror as it crumbled. Nothing but a pile of dust in your hand.

You recoiled violently, disgust plastered on your expression.

Will’s mistake. He didn’t intend to dirty your hand.

Will Masterlist

"Is this what you wanted?" Noah spoke coldly while tugging on the slip chain looped around Will's neck. The metal dug into his skin, not painfully, not yet anyway.

If the dazed gaze reflecting back at him was an indication, Noah would think so. But Will wasn't meant to be enjoying this. All day he'd been a menace, a brat even. A needy, pathetic, whiny and pitiful little kitten—and Noah was hellbent on correcting that behavior.

Will squirmed beneath him, cock hard and begging to freed. A small wet formed on the crotch of his sweats. With his free hand, Noah firmly pressed his hand against Will's erection, cutting off his moan with a hard yank of his chain. The sound of his choked and surprised gasp filled Noah with a sick pleasure. He leaned down, just enough to breathe hot air across his lips.

"Do you think I should get a choke collar for you?" Noah cocked his head to the side. "How long do you think you could hold your breath?"

Will tried to arch into him, but Noah sat all his weight in his lap. He pulled the chain tighter, back and up until it caught and Will winced. A small, smug smile tugged at Noah's lips.

"Oh you want this bad, don't you?"

Will blinked with a subtle, barely there nod. Noah leaned in more, brushing their lips together, sinister smirk still plastered. He mocked every breathless sound Will struggled to make.