✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ The only noise that penetrates the eerie silence of your room is the sound of your laboured breathing. You listen with your eyes closed to the unnatural wheezing of your lungs. From the sharp pain in your chest, it’s safe to assume you have at least one broken rib. You briefly wonder if your fathers feel remorse for what had happened, but quickly dismiss the idea. If they had felt anything, they would’ve stopped long before you reached this state. No, they don’t give a shit. Not anymore. 

There’s only one mirror in your room, and you haven’t dared look at it. The relentless pulsing beneath the fragile skin of your face tells you all you need to know, and a small part of you worries that the person you’ll see looking back at you will be unrecognisable. 

Their cruelty is a mystery to you. It always has been. Their desire to keep you safe and protected seems to be constantly contradicted by their primal desire to harm. To kill. You had done little to elicit such a reaction from them, but these days, it doesn’t take much. One snide comment and the fuse is lit. 

Despite your countless injuries, the worst pain you feel is the awful constricting of your throat. A clear warning sign of tears. You don’t want to cry. Not over them, but there’s no denying that your wounds run far deeper than your marred skin. They don’t care about you. Your so-called fathers had stood and watched as you crumpled up into a helpless ball on the floor, cradling your injuries and begging for mercy. Begging for comfort. Even Dwayne had regarded you with cold indifference, his dark eyes seeming awfully yellow under the flickering ambience of the fire. 

They had been your everything as a child, and for a long time, it seemed that they had reciprocated that. Now though, you often wonder why you’re still alive. The blissful days of your childhood are long gone, and now all that remains is the unforgiving reality of the present. You slowly find yourself coming to the grave conclusion that there is only one card left up your sleeve, and now seems like a fitting time to draw it.

One final act of defiance. An act that will free you from them forever.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

A frustrated sigh escapes David’s lips as his thumb grazes uselessly against the sparkwheel of the lighter. “Fuckin’ lighter’s out of fuel,” He states gruffly, carelessly tossing it onto the ground near where Dwayne is sitting. 

The brunette regardes it with little interest, before lifting his gaze to meet David’s scowl. “It’s not out. I used that thing earlier.” 

“Then how come it doesn’t fucking work?” David snaps back, his voice laced with impatience. Dwayne’s cool indifference to everything is beginning to piss him off. He’d welcomed that attitude earlier- during your punishment, but now that it’s directed at him, he’s not so keen.

“Maybe cause your hand is shaking so much.” 

“Will you quit being such a smartass?” David growls, his eyes flickering yellow for a brief moment before he continues. “I’ve put up with enough shit today already. Don’t need you being a dick on top of that.”

There’s movement from the shadows as Marko emerges into the light, holding a half-empty bottle of beer between two fingers. “To be fair, you did ask. Can’t be too mad.”

David huffs humorlessly, but doesnt reply. It’s clear that all four of them are troubled by what had happened earlier. The air’s still thick with tension, and David knows that the others are waiting for him to make the next call. He won’t though- at least, not yet. This is what you require. Discipline. Pain. He needs to be sure that when they finally turn you, there will be no doubt of your loyalty to the pack. 

Despite telling himself that over and over, David finds that he can’t extinguish the flicker of doubt that remains in the back of his mind. Looking down at your pitiful form earlier, he had discovered that he had been scarcely able to recognise you. That potential he had previously seen in you seemed lost within your wide, bloodshot eyes. It had spooked him enough to forget that it was his daughter he was beating to near death, and not just another teenage runaway.

“You guys hear that?”

Paul’s vague question drags David from his morbid pondering. All four vampires fall silent for a moment, listening intently, before Marko speaks.

“What the hell are you talking about man? I can’t hear shit.” 

Paul frowns and glances over in the direction of your room, “Exactly. I can’t hear her.”

David is suddenly made aware of an unsettling sensation rising from his gut at the realisation. For a brief moment, he locks eyes with Dwayne, until said man suddenly seems to snap out of his trance and rushes over to your room with panicked urgency. 

David reaches your room only seconds after Dwayne. He must have smashed his way in, as your door is hanging precariously from its hinges and is disrupted by a large, splintery gash down the centre. 

The sound made by Dwayne is unlike anything the others have ever heard from him. It’s a raw cry of anger and despair. An expression of gut wrenching emotions too painful to be spoken- too powerful to be contained by mere words. Your father drops to the floor before your body as if he’s been physically wounded and begins shaking.

David watches in horrified silence. At first glance, you appear to be leaning crookedly against the wall. Upon taking a step closer though, the rope around your neck becomes visible, and David realises that you had somehow hung yourself from one of the old shelves of the hotel. From the awkward angle your head is tilted, he assumes that you had broken your neck in the effort to suffocate yourself, which explains why none of them had heard your struggle earlier.

It’s difficult to tell how long you have been dead, though David knows it could have only been a couple minutes at most. He curses himself for not checking on you sooner. How had Paul realised before he had? None of this would have happened if he hadn’t been so fucking stubborn and just gone to check you for injuries. But no, instead he had left you by yourself to deal with all your shit- and what did you do? You killed yourself. You gave up before they had the chance to cool off and apologise for taking it too far. You died in pain alone and it was all his fucking fault.

A sudden, overwhelming wave of anger washes over David, and he finds himself storming past Dwayne over to your body. With shaking hands, he yanks on the rope until it tears away from the wall, bringing the crooked shelf down with it. Your lifeless form falls forwards for a split second, before a pair of leather-clad hands grips your upper arms tightly and slams you back against the hard, stone wall.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” David roars, his eyes fixed intently on your ashen face as if expecting you to reply. In response, your head lolls to the side unapologetically, as if shrugging at the question with your usual teenage attitude. 

“That fucking bitch.” He spits, turning back to the others and throwing your corpse onto the floor with the shelf and rope still attached. David watches in disgust as Dwayne scrambled over to your body and cradles it to his chest, as if protecting you from the brunt of his anger.

“She’s fucking dead, Dwayne! She’s dead. You can’t-” He can’t bring himself to finish his sentence. You can’t bring her back. Dwayne’s too consumed by his own grief to even realise he’s being screamed at, and the other two… David suddenly shifts his teary eyed gaze up to the doorway to look at them.

Paul seems unable to process the reality of what had happened. His eyes are fixed on Dwayne, though he appears uncomfortable with the sight, as if witnessing such an uninhibited display of emotion has made him feel ill. “I uh-” Paul drags his eyes up to meet David’s as he speaks, “I’m gonna go. I need air.” 

Of course you do.

David watches unsympathetically as he leaves, brows knitted tightly together as if deep in thought. Really though, it’s the complete opposite. His mind is a storm of emotion- too loud to be translated into words. He jerks his head in Marko’s direction and abruptly speaks. “You gonna leave too, huh? Run away from your problems like you always fucking do?” The words spill from David’s mouth without much thought, their meaning lost to him the moment they leave his tongue. 

Marko just blinks wordlessly. His eyes hold a haunted look that doesn’t quite reach David’s icy stare. For a moment, the room is frozen in a strained state of despair, until Marko takes one final look at your body and leaves.

And then, David is alone. At least, that’s what it feels like. Dwayne is still inconsolable, so rather than attempting to offer up any words of comfort, David turns around and walks, almost robotically, back to the main chamber. When he gets there the space is empty, so he assumes that Marko and Paul must have left to process your death alone. 

For the first time in years, the cave is silent. It feels… unnatural. David shifts his weight between his feet to try and alleviate his discomfort. There’s a crawling sensation beneath his skin that makes him want to tear it all off, but he won’t. You don’t deserve that much of a reaction.

Instead, David takes a decisive step closer to the old water fountain and picks up a half empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s. The amber liquid gently rocks from within the glass, as if encouraging him to drink. A small part of him begs to put down the whiskey and mourn for his daughter, but all his grief is buried beneath thick layers of anger, so instead he unscrews the lid and brings the rim up to his lips.

The alcohol slides down his tongue with practiced ease and leaves his throat feeling pleasantly burned. David stands there for a moment after the first sip, eyes fixed intently on the drink as he contemplates what to do next. Marko and Paul have left, and Dwayne won’t leave your side. That means he won’t have to worry about anyone coming to him for comfort. Not that anyone wants my comfort. He frowns slightly at the thought, but doesn’t dwell on it. Instead, David shifts his focus back to the situation at hand. He isn’t used to feeling unsure about things, so his first instinct is to drink. That would be appropriate wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t have wanted him to cry over your death. It would be hypocritical to push you to take such a drastic measure and then get upset over it. 

After your fight earlier, after everything he’d said, it had certainly seemed like he’d wanted you dead. Is that why you did it? David grips the bottle tightly and takes another swig. He can feel guilt beginning to seep in through the cracks of his resentment, and it makes him feel sick. David knows that it will only be a matter of time until he breaks. Until then, the only thing he can think to do is drink away all traces of emotion.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Rain falls from the sky in fat, angry droplets as Marko races along the narrow dirt track. His legs feel cold as mud sprays onto his jeans, making them stiff against his skin. He pays little attention to his discomfort, though, as he pushes the bike to move faster down the path. 

Eventually, the track begins to widen, and Marko tentatively loosens his grip on the throttle, allowing the bike to roll through the thick sludge. He slows to a stop just outside the entrance to the boardwalk and dismounts the vehicle, leaving it awkwardly propped up in the way. The rain only seems to be getting worse as Marko walks aimlessly through the boardwalk. It’s pretty much deserted, which provides him some comfort. At least he can grieve in peace. He takes notice of how the warm glow of the street lamps makes the droplets seem golden as they hit the glistening sidewalk, and the way the moon is veiled by a few thin clouds, as if in mourning.

You would have appreciated tonight’s beauty, Marko thinks, frowning at the sudden aching of his heart. He’s felt pain before, but nothing compares to this. It’s as if a part of him has been agonisingly carved out, leaving nothing but a dark, gaping wound that yearns for your company. Part of him wants to scream for you the way Dwayne did- to allow his feelings to swallow him whole and reduce him to the pain he feels, but he can’t. So instead, he swallows back the lump in his throat and blinks away his tears, allowing them to be washed away with the cool rain that streams down his face. 

Marko inhales the winter air somewhat shakily as he ponders on what to do. Truthfully, he isn’t sure why he drove himself here in the first place. The rain has completely soaked through his clothes and hair, and upon noticing this, he suddenly feels silly for coming all this way. Sure, the drive had helped distract him somewhat, but now that he’s here all by himself, his emotions only seem to be coming back worse than before.

Flashes of your sightless stare keep coming back in sickening waves, and Marko isn’t sure whether he wants to scream or cry. How could such an insignificant human like yourself have wormed your way into his life, only to suddenly disappear and leave him with nothing?

You were supposed to live forever. 

Marko clenches his fists as his pace quickens. He allows himself to indulge in fantasies of turning you, and imagines taking you on your first hunt. He thinks about the way your eyes would shine a brilliant gold as you tear into the flesh of your first victim, and how he’d tenderly wipe the blood from your mouth after. 

If only they hadn’t waited so long. 

Marko abruptly stops walking as a familiar scent graces his nose. Through the heavy scent of rain he detects the sweet tang of blood coming from somewhere nearby, and after a couple seconds of straining his ears, he can hear the steady beating of a heart. A small part of him wonders if it’s appropriate to kill someone so soon after your death, but his instincts are stronger than whatever shred of morality he has left, so he shakes off the thought and allows his bloodlust to guide his movements.

Once close enough, Marko stands perfectly still behind a pillar and draws in another breath. His whole body suddenly stiffens at the familiarity of it. For a split second, Marko is convinced that you’ve risen from the dead, but then he hears a barely audible hiss, and his shoulders drop in defeat. That fucking cat.

Your cat, Pumpkin, has a tendency to disappear for days at a time. Marko fondly recalls how worried you used to get when she’d run away, though his mood quickly sours as he remembers how disinterested you had been lately in regards to her whereabouts. You probably hadn’t even noticed she’d been gone. 

Marko carefully peers round the pillar, his eyes zeroing in on the scene before him. A few feet away, a woman is crouched in front of the small black cat. He notices how she’s cradling one hand in another, and makes the assumption that Pumpkin must have scratched her. A slight smirk tugs at Marko’s lips, and he feels an odd sense of pride. Your cat had basically led him to his next meal.

Unable to wait any longer, he casually ambles over, allowing his heavy footsteps to alert the stranger of his presence. She startles at the sound, whipping round to stare at him from under the bright hood of her windbreaker. Much to Marko’s surprise, the face he’s met with seems a lot closer in age to you than he had expected. It catches him off guard, but he is quick to regain his composure. 

“You uh- you seem awfully young to be hanging out here in the rain all by yourself,” He says, trying to find the perfect balance of intimidating yet somewhat trustworthy. 

The girl looks him up and down, and Marko is reminded of the state of his appearance. His clothes are splattered with mud, and his hair is likely so wet that the weight of it has reduced his curls to loose waves.

“You seem pretty young yourself,” She replies, confusion evident on her face as she cocks her head slightly. 

Marko quirks a brow at that, “I’m a lot older than you think.”

“Oh, really?” The girl’s demeanour suddenly shifts, and her eyes seem to darken with unspoken desire as she slowly stands up and closes the gap between them.

For a moment, Marko considers indulging in her little game, intoxicated by the scent of her teenage hormones, but then he remembers your tortured, dead eyes and is hit with a wave of nausea. She’s your age.

All he can muster as a reply is a simple “Mhm,” as he brings a gloved hand up to her throat and moves closer, leaning in so that his lips are mere millimetres away from her ear. It takes him a moment to get his words out, too overwhelmed by the sudden onslaught of emotions assaulting his mind. “My daughter killed herself today. Do you know what that feels like? Seeing your kid’s dead body hanging from a noose?”

Marko pulls away and regards her horrified expression hungrily, slowly increasing the pressure on her neck. “I- I’m so sorry.. I didn’t realise you- I mean, you don’t look-”

“I asked you a fucking question. Do you know what that feels like?”

The girl shakes her head in response, clearly too frightened to speak.

Marko scoffs, “Of course you don’t. Your pathetic species is incapable of feeling emotions the same way mine does.” He pauses for a moment to inhale the scent of her fear before continuing, “She was worth so much more than you’ll ever be… and yet she’s dead and you’re here. It just doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

By now, the girl is trembling in his grip, staring at him through tearful eyes as she tries to stutter out a response, only to be cut off again.

“Do your parents love you? Do you think they’ll miss you?”

Marko can’t tell if his prey is actually nodding or if she’s just shaking too much. He doesn’t particularly care either way. “I guess there’s only one way to find out...”

The girl releases a choked scream as Marko’s hand slips down to her shoulder to make space for his mouth. In an instant, his teeth are latched onto the tender skin of her neck and he begins tearing away at the flesh. He can feel her desperately clawing at his jacket as his tongue pushes deep into the wound, savouring the metallic tang. 

Blood begins flowing more quickly into his mouth, running down his chin and getting caught in his hair as he shoves his victim into the wall of the souvenir shop behind her. The impact seems to drive his fangs further into her throat, as he feels a warm spray hit his nose and another gush of blood spill onto his tongue.

There’s one more slap against his bicep before the girl suddenly becomes limp in his grip and falls completely into his arms.

Marko physically recoils at the motion, roughly shoving the body away from him and taking a step back to glare at it. Blood continues gushing from her mangled neck, but he decides not to drink anymore of it. He doesn’t need to. This girl hadn’t died to be his prey; she had died because it was what she deserved. It was what her parents deserved too. The whole world should suffer the same anguish as him.

He stares at the body for what feels like hours, until a soft purring breaks his trance. Marko looks down to see your cat rubbing up against his legs. His first instinct is to kick it away, but something stops him. The action feels familiar, almost identical to how you used to hug his legs when you were little. 

With a resigned sigh, Marko bends down and scoops the cat up into his arms, staring deeply into her orange eyes. “She’s dead. It’s just you and me now.”

Pumpkin shows no signs of understanding him, but he knows that deep down she feels your absence as strongly as he does. That alone brings him more comfort than any amount of killing ever could. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Paul isn’t sure what he’s doing here. His bike has been parked on Max’s driveway for a good ten minutes now, but he still can’t bring himself to cross that damn bridge and knock on the door. Chances are, Max knows he’s here, so why hasn’t he come out? 

The rain seems to be pouring down heavier and heavier, as if urging him to do something. Paul throws back his head and runs his fingers through his wet, tangled hair with a groan. He feels pathetic coming to Max, but there isn’t anyone else to go to. Your absence feels like a stake to the heart, and he doesn’t know how to cope with the gaping hole that’s opened up inside him. David’s pissed, Marko’s gone, and Dwayne? Paul isn’t sure Dwayne will ever be the same again.

After a few more minutes of contemplation, he finally musters up enough willpower to walk across the bridge and knock on the front door, only having to wait a couple of seconds before it swings open. 

The expression on Max’s face makes Paul feel even more pitiful than he had before. His brows are stiffly furrowed, and his dark eyes hold an unusual mixture of sympathy and disdain. Neither men speak for a moment as they regard each other wearily. 

“You look awful.”

Paul tries to feign a laugh, but all that comes out is a tired huff. “I know.” 

“Would you like to come in?”

Well duh. I didn’t drive all this way just to stand on your porch.

Paul doesn’t vocalise the snarky reply that had leapt to the forefront of his mind. Instead, he nods meekly and steps inside without another word, grateful to be out of the vicious storm. Max is quick to close the door behind him. He regards Paul’s state with a displeased frown, noting how much water is dripping off clothes and onto the door mat. “Here- let me take that jacket off you.” His voice is gentle, although there’s a hint of authority in his words as he helps Paul out of the leather. 

“Sorry for turnin’ up like this- unannounced I mean.” He mumbles, not failing to notice the way Max is gingerly holding his jacket like it’s contaminated with some infectious disease. 

“It’s no problem,” Max replies as he fixes it onto the coat hanger, caught off guard by Paul’s manners. “When was the last time you fed?” He asks, leading the younger vampire through to the kitchen. 

Paul perks up slightly at the question, his eyes darting around the dimly lit room in search of a potential victim. “Why, you got someone in here for us to kill?”

Max stops in front of the fridge, “Well, not exactly…” He grips the metal handle and slowly opens the door to reveal what must be at least a hundred blood bags.

Paul’s shoulders slump in disappointment. “I’m not drinking that crap.”

“I understand that you’re upset Paul, but starving yourself of blood won’t make the pain go away. It’ll only make you weaker, and that’s not what you need right now.” 

Paul shifts slightly in discomfort, fighting to maintain a respectful attitude towards the senior vampire. “I don’t see how your shitty blood bags are supposed to make me feel any better about my kid committing suicide.” Saying the words out loud makes him realise the permanency of your death and fills him with an overwhelming sense of dread. You’re gone. Forever. He’ll never see your smile, or feel the warmth of your touch again. 

The kitchen starts spinning, and Paul stumbles back in a drunken manner. For the first time since he became a vampire, he feels scared. Everything had been so meticulously planned out that the possibility of a life without you hadn’t even crossed his mind before. He doesn’t know what to do.

A strong pair of hands suddenly grips Paul’s shoulders, pulling him from his spiralling thoughts. “Hey- listen to me. You boys will be ok. I know it hurts, and I know you miss her, but you’ll get through this. She wouldn’t want to see you getting this upset.”

Paul realises he must have been crying, because his face feels hot and sticky. He self consciously wipes away the tears and averts his gaze towards the floor, “I just wish she knew how much we cared about her. I know sometimes we-” Paul’s voice cracks as he speaks, “Sometimes we’d get carried away and hurt her, but that doesn’t mean we don’t love her.”

Max sighs and soothingly rubs Paul’s shoulders. “It’s not your fault Paul. She was a troubled child- something like this was bound to happen.”

In an instant the atmosphere seems to shift. All vulnerability in Paul’s face is gone as his jaw stiffens and his brows knit tightly into a frown. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, this isn’t the first time she’s had a depressive episode. David told me about how she used to hurt herself when she got upset, and how she’d steal your drugs. That’s how this whole ordeal started, isn’t it? David found the pills in her drawer.”

Paul bristles, “What are you trying to say Max? That something was wrong with her?”

“What I’m saying is that she was angry and unstable. The only reason she did this to herself was because she couldn’t do it to you. Had she been a vampire, it might have been one of you boys who ended up dead instead.” 

Logic gives way to anger as Paul shoves Max away from him. His teeth are bared in a savage display of aggression and his golden eyes glare wildly at the man before him. “My daughter would never do that, you don’t know what you’re talking about. She loved us just as much as we loved her, she just had trouble communicating that sometimes.”

Despite all his instincts screaming at him to retaliate, Max doesn’t react. He turns away from Paul and puts the blood bag back into the fridge with a sigh, before finally speaking. “I think you should leave. Go back to the cave and spend some time with the others- you shouldn’t try and navigate something like this alone.”

Paul scoffs in disbelief, “You’re kicking me out? My kid just died and you’re telling me to leave?”

“I can’t offer you the comfort you’re looking for.” The room falls silent. Max is still turned away, refusing to look Paul in the eye. 

“You know what? Fine. I don’t need you- coming here was a stupid idea.” 

Paul doesn’t wait for a reply. He marches through the poorly lit house, only stopping to snatch his leather jacket from the coat hanger before yanking the front door open in frustration. He can hear Max approaching from behind, but decides not to acknowledge his presence. Anger still burns hotly beneath his skin, and Paul knows that speaking his mind could risk a vicious fight sparking between them. One that may cost him his life.

“I need to talk to David. Tell him I expect a visit within the next few days.”

Paul’s only response is a silent nod. He waits for a moment to make sure Max has nothing else to say and then steps out into the rain. The door slams behind him with a heavy thud that's quickly followed by the soft clicking of a lock. 

“Fuck.” Paul spits out the word like it had personally wronged him. He can feel his eyes becoming wet again with the promise of more tears, but he makes no move to wipe them away. They aren’t gentle this time- these ones sting like acid and roll down his cheeks alongside the rain. Paul ignores them and walks dejectedly back to his bike. His Aerosmith t-shirt is already drenched, but he puts on his jacket anyway, grimacing slightly in discomfort as he wrestles his arms through the heavy sleeves. 

The bike waits patiently for him to mount it. Under the soft glow of the streetlight, the red paint appears more of a burnt orange, and Paul can see each individual raindrop plummeting down and splashing against his leather seat. He doesn’t bother to wipe it away, considering the weather has already ruined his white pants- a bit more rainwater won’t make a difference. Paul grips the handlebars and swings a leg over the hunk of metal with practiced ease. He takes a moment to adjust himself before twisting round to take one more look at the house.

You used to love visiting Uncle Max when you were little. Paul remembers the way you’d skip down his bridge, often tripping over your feet in your hurry to greet Thorn. Thinking about how happy you used to be somehow makes your father feel even worse. He knows that among the sharp claws of grief that tear at his heart, there’s something darker lurking. A vicious guilt he’s repressed for years- for the life they thrusted upon you, which you inevitably destroyed. You had every right to, as even after everything you had endured, it still belonged to you. 

And my life still belongs to me. Paul’s thoughts turn dark as he slowly begins to understand the pain you must have felt to commit to something so final. Was this your plan- to infect them with your suffering? He casts his gaze over to the sky, wondering if you’re watching him from above. Would you want him to do this? The sun has yet to paint the horizon gold, but judging by the dreary blueish-grey that has taken over the earlier darkness, Paul knows it won’t be long until sunrise. He’s running out of time to choose. Stay or go; live or die. The decision comes down to one question he never thought he’d have to answer: you or them.

Paul closes his eyes and listens to the gentle ambiance of the early morning. He prays to you for guidance- for any indication of what to do, but receives no answer. This choice is for him to make alone. 

He knows what he must do.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Time has lost its meaning. Dwayne doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting on your cold floor with a stillness that could rival an ancient statue. Maybe he’s only been here for a few hours… or maybe it’s been days. It’s all the same now. No one has dared to check on him yet. It must seem distasteful for them to enter the site of such a tragedy. Perhaps they feel it is not their place to infiltrate what had once been your safe haven. They’re wrong. He thinks, finally moving a hand to trace the side of your face with his thumb. This place is just a room. It may be your room, but it’s still just a room. 

It was him that made you feel safe, not your bedroom. Dwayne knows that in the past few weeks he had been failing at that. It should make him feel guilty- it did at first. He had cried and screamed your name until his throat was dry and swallowing became painful. Then it all went away. All the grief and guilt he felt was gone, and in its place came an unsettling calmness he has never felt before. Acceptance.

He’s come to terms with this reality. You’ll never wake up, but that's ok; you don’t need to. Dwayne is content with holding you in his lap. He wants to savour every last moment with you before he’s truly ready to let go. Perhaps that’s why he’s afraid to leave your room. That would mean moving away from what has happened, and he can’t do that yet. 

Once he does though, he knows that he’ll be ok. Dwayne isn’t afraid to die anymore, in fact he is quietly longing for the end of his life. The past feels like some hazy dream, and the future is incomprehensible. All that exists now is the present, which he will continue to live in until even that becomes unrecognisable. And then I will be free to join you forever, my precious girl.

A sudden thud against your doorframe drags Dwayne from his thoughts, though he makes no move to even look at the people there. He already knows that it’s David and Marko.

“Hey man…” Marko’s voice sounds rough and tired, taking on an uncharacteristically serious tone. “I- We think it’s time we should bury her.”

Dwayne tenses and brings your body up to his chest, still refusing to look in Marko’s direction. “No, she’s not ready yet. Give us more time.”

“You’ve been in here for a week, Dwayne. Cmon, you can’t hold on to her forever.” Dwayne finally snaps his head round to look at them when he hears Marko taking a step closer. He’s holding a small black cat in his arms with a defeated look on his face. Dwayne instantly notices the redness of his eyes, and realises that this might be the first time he has ever seen Marko cry.

Behind him, David is leaning unsteadily against the doorframe. The expression on his face suggests he might have something to say, but Dwayne assumes by the way he’s struggling to hold himself up that he’s too drunk to piece together something meaningful enough to say. If he wasn’t in such a state himself, maybe he would’ve found the sight of them pathetic. Instead, it only reinforces what he already knew. The pack won’t be able to manage without you. 

“Where’s Paul?”

Marko shifts uncomfortably, averting his gaze to the floor. “We haven’t seen him since she…” He trails off and gestures towards you, unable to finish his sentence.

“So you wanna do this without him?” Dwayne asks flatly, his eyes flicking towards the cat. Why was that stupid thing here? He’d sort of hoped it had run away, or been hit by a car.

“We can’t wait for him anymore. I mean, for all we know he could be- he might not come back.” 

Dwayne doesn’t speak. Beneath the cold apathy that has numbed his mind, there’s traces of sadness. Not for Paul, who likely is dead, but for Marko. He looks completely defeated: shoulders slumped and head heavy as he glances back up at Dwayne. There’s a sliver of hope in his eyes, as if he’s quietly optimistic that things will get better. 

My death will push him over the edge. Dwayne thinks as he frowns at Marko, suddenly unsure about whether or not killing himself would be a good idea. Is this really the end? He can’t imagine a future without you, and now that Paul may be gone too, things seem even more bleak. What does Marko see in the ruins of their lives that’s worth living for?

“It doesn’t even look like her anymore…” Huh? The statement catches Dwayne off guard. He had expected Marko to press him to speak, or try and offer some words of comfort- not this.

“Look at her. Actually look at her this time. That’s not our kid anymore, that’s a dead body. She’s gone.” Dwayne reluctantly shifts his gaze back down to your face and looks at you properly. Not through those rose tinted lenses of who you had been, but through the clear, cold truth. No filters this time, no memories, just fact. And the fact is, Marko is right. Your skin is tinged with green and peeling away like layers of old wallpaper. His heart sinks. It’s time to let you go.

“I don’t wanna do it either, but we can’t just sit here watching her rot away.”

Dwayne slowly nods and carefully stands up, still tightly clinging onto your body. He can feel his joints clicking and legs trembling with the effort of moving after such a long period of stillness. 

“So this is it. Nearly a decade of raising that child, and now we’re gonna bury her.” He’d forgotten that David was here too, leaning against the doorframe looking slightly dazed, as if he hadn’t expected those words to come slurring out his mouth. 

Dwayne bristles slightly and shoots him a glare, “I’d hardly say you raised her. You didn’t do shit.” To his surprise, David doesn’t argue back. His brows twitch slightly and he averts his gaze, as if in shame. 

Marko rests a placating hand on Dwayne’s shoulder, having to reach up slightly due to the height difference, “Now’s not the time. We’re all upset- and he’s been drinking non-stop since she died. He isn’t in the right frame of mind for this.”

When did Marko of all people become the peacekeeper around here? Dwayne muses, surprised by how composed he has kept himself. I suppose people tend to react differently in a time of crisis. 

Marko’s hand leaves Dwayne’s shoulder as he leads the two remaining members of their pack through the cave. It’s more cluttered and unkept than he remembers, with glass bottles (some empty, others not) laying discarded all over the floor and on just about every surface there is. The whole area reeks of vodka and beer and… weed? 

“He’s been smoking?” Dwayne murmurs, eying David as he stumbles towards the cave entrance, either not knowing or not caring about the conversation going on behind him. 

Marko shrugs tiredly, “I think he got into Paul’s weed stash. I mean, someone might as well smoke it, since he’s not here.” A heavy silence falls between the two men. They hadn’t stopped to grieve Paul yet. Maybe because they can’t cope with acknowledging another loss right now, or maybe they’re still clinging to the hope that he’s out there somewhere, mourning all by himself. 

They finally reach the top of the cliff, where three bikes have been left to bask under the soft glow of the moon. David is standing right at the edge, staring out at the sea with his back to them. Dwayne watches him for a moment before glancing back at Marko. “I think we should let her drift out into the sea.”

Marko turns to him, surprise etched onto his features. “You don’t wanna bury her?”

Of course he wants to bury you. In fact, part of him wants to consume your blood so that you’ll be with him forever, but he knows deep down that all you wanted was to be free. No matter how much that fact stings, he can’t ignore what he knows is the truth.

“She’d prefer to be in the water.” A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth for a split second, “Do you remember how the five of us used to go down to the beach? I always told her not to get in the water cause she’d freeze, but then you’d grab her by the hand and run in with her.” 

A quiet huff escapes Marko’s lips. It’s not quite a laugh, but it’s enough. A flash of hope that lingers in the air, whispering that maybe, just maybe things will turn out ok. The two of them walk towards David, who doesn’t acknowledge them. Marko clears his throat awkwardly, “Should- should we say something? Like a goodbye?”

Dwayne shakes his head. He knows that all their goodbyes have already been said in the privacy of their minds. Silent prayers only meant for you to hear. To say them out loud would be too performative. “No, we should just let her go,” he replies quietly, taking another step forward so that the edges of his boots are in line with the edge of the cliff. Dwayne looks down at you one last time and places a gentle kiss upon your forehead. He ignores the coldness of your skin, and simply savours the feeling of having you in his hold one last time, before he stretches out his arms and lets you go.

One final act of love. One that has set you free forever.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Tag list- @purple-lemon-8 @xjesterxjacksx @whatispopping69 @simplyreading96 @lostbetweenvampiresandmusic @humbuginmybones @thelostboysforeva @bella-goths-wife

Now, as much as the boys loved you, there was no way they were prepared to be fathers. They didn't know anything about being parents and they sure as hell were too proud to ask someone for help. So they observed and tried to copy families on the boardwalk. Key word: Tried.

They saw people put their babies in diapers and improvised with homemade diapers using scraps of clothing from victims. They saw people holding their babies in baby carriers and improvised with tape. They let you sleep on just a pile of pillows and blankets. At least they knew the correct food they had to steal.

"Remind me why we're going through all this effort again?" David grumbled as he watched Dwayne tape you to his chest. "Because she's our baby and we love her very much." Dwayne replied, not once taking his eyes off of the task at hand.

Max had sensed something was off. As the boys sire, he could feel their emotions and they seemed...calm. Well, not calm but not the reckless energy they normally gave off. They seemed more cautious, more docile. But most importantly, Max could sense a primal possessiveness taking root in the boys. This made him curious.

It was another ordinary night for Max. Working at his store, talking to customers, playing the part of a completely ordinary man. But when he looked up, he saw it. Out of the window, he saw the boys...with a baby. A baby that was strapped to one of their chests with tape. He didn't believe it for a second. Couldn't believe it. What were the boys doing with a baby? And more importantly what the hell were they doing to it?

"Oh great..." David groaned "Max saw us...", the other 3 boys turned their heads and sure enough they saw their sire staring at them with a strained smile. "Great, now we gotta answer his questions.." David mumbled as the boys strutted inside the empty store.

"What's the matter Max? Business failing?" David teased. Max choose to ignore his remark and kept his gaze solely on you. "What is that?" He asked, his voice eerily calm. "A baby." David scoffed as he lighted a cigarette. Max let out a sigh of exasperation, "which one of you boys procreated?", he looked at you and then at each of the boys to try to figure out who you actually belong to. "None of us man, we just sorta killed her dad and took her", Paul said as if it was completely normal. Max let out another sigh, of course the boys would do this. He isn't even surprised. But he is concerned, these boys can't raise a human baby. "Give her to me." He stated and all hell broke loose

"No way man!-"

"Over my dead fucking body!"

"She's ours!"

"You can't take her!-"

"Enough." He glared at the boys and they quieted down. He sighs. What a complicated situation he finds himself in. On one hand, these boys (so used to taking human life) couldn't possibly keep something so small and fragile alive. On the other, this baby was a part of the pack now and you can't separate parents from their young. "How about a deal boys? You'll have her most days but I take her on weekends? This gives you a chance to feed properly while she is actually being taken care of." The boys considered his suggestion before David replied, "fine but don't you dare hurt her." Max smiled and simply extended his arms "it is Saturday boys so hand her over." Dwayne cautiously untaped the baby from his chest and begrudgingly gave you to Max. Max smiled down gently, he was starting to understand why the boys cared for you.

Max cooed at you as he brought you into his home. He'd have to remember to buy actual baby stuff for you. Someone had to care for you and who better than him? He looks down at you and feels a soft smile creep its way onto his face. He does need a grandchild, a family isn't complete without one. Oh you're going to be the perfect addition to his little family.

David-

Would be livid. He usually always gets what he wants, and if you break up with him? All his promises he made to you about not drinking every ounce of blood from you? Consider it broken, he'd be in a fit of rage, taking his time and telling you how much of this was YOUR fault, as to why he has to kill you. He'd kill you slowly, draining you from your blood. Keeping you chained up near his throne/wheelchair. Using you as his own personal blood bag, telling you to stay near him at all times, and whenever he gets hungry, he'd expect you to turn your head, lending him your neck with no talk backs. And if you don't, you'll have a few broken bones. You broke his undead heart, now he breaks your spirit. "You think you can just escape me like that?! I put my love first for you. I'll never do that again, pet!" Before you were his lover, now your his pet.

Dwayne-

Like David he'd be livid, but he wouldn't go to the extreme like David would. He'd be stand off-ish to you, if you were at the boardwalk the same time he was, he'd simply not look at you. He would not acknowledge your presence. Dwayne wouldn't kill you, but he would make sure you know how hurt he was. He trusted you with a lot, so it really hurt him. But he would kill everyone you love, he'd have no sympathy for them. He wants you to know how much you hurt him, even if it means hurting you back mentally. He'd never hurt you physically, cause he keeps his promises. "What happened to, 'I'll love you forever' Y/n?"

Before, you were his Darlin. Now you're a stranger.

Paul-

He's probably a close third behind Marko on the Yandere scale. (#1: David, #2: Marko, #3: Paul, #4: Dwayne)

Paul would be heartbroken, his usual happy golden retriever would shift every time he'd see, smell, or hear you at the boardwalk.

Paul is a jealous type, he'd let you know too. If he sees you hanging on someone's shoulder when at the boardwalk- the next night, they will for sure go missing. Paul does all of it out of sadness, anger, and self-doubt. He'd doubt himself in a way, enough to get the other's attention; him getting high more often, not wanting to get out of the cave as much, he'd basically bed/nest rot. But soon that sadness and depression will turn to rage, he'd go on a rampage, killing anything he sees while he's vamped out. Even going far enough that he snaps at David, Marko, and Dwayne. If he sees something in the cave that you left in there by mistake, he'd break, tear, or burn it. "Wh-what?.. Did I do something wrong? Am I too chaotic? what is it?! TELL ME!" Before, you were his babe. Now your someone he'd never want to speak or think of again.

Marko-

He's just as bad as David. Though he'd have fantasies about just killing you. He doesn't want you around, doesn't want to think about you, doesn't want to smell, hear or see you again. If you try moving away from Santa Carla, he'd slash your tires, then hunt you down, chasing you to your car, and when you realize that you can't leave. He's fly you as far up into the sky as he can go. He'd drop you, fly down and catch you right before you hit the ground. He'd keep you around for a bit though. Kinda like Paul, if he sees you with someone else, that person will in fact come up missing. He'd leave you dead animals in your bed, hiding out your window and laugh when he hears you scream. Before, your scream turn him on, now they make him laugh sadistically. When he gets tired of you, seeing how your spirit is too broken to the point it's not fun anymore, he'd drink every drop of blood from you, then throw you in the bonfire as if you just another victim he's slaughtered. "If I can't have you.. No one can."

• The two of them wanted nothing more than to get in your pants the second they found out you were there (all four of them) mate.

•Paul was erratic about it, every time they’d go to the boardwalk he’d look for you.

•Marko was slightly more contained than Paul, but still equally interesting in finding you.

•The second the two of them smelt your scent at the boardwalk, they understood why David and Dwayne went crazy.

•Paul would catch himself looking for you, following your scent. Cue him drooling so much that his mouth is full with saliva from your scent alone.

•Marko is the first person who saw you in person throughout the other 3 boys. •It went from, Marko, then David, Then Dwayne then Paul

•The two of them instantly wanted to tag team you the second they convinced you to come to the cave.

•Dwayne is the one who got the two to calm down despite him wanting to do the same. •Marko would make little trinkets for you, making you bracelets and necklaces, chokers and rings.

•Paul and Marko would take you to the Farris wheel and try to freak you the second you get on cause your scent smells so nice.

•When the two of them found out you were their mate, it. Was. OVER.

•They’d NEVER leave you alone.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

- David is a romantic deep down he just has a hard time showing it in a way that doesn't freak you out. He knows he's intimidating, he would be surprised if you didn't feel intimidated but when it gets to the point where you try and avoid him or his simple requests of joining him for dinner? He starts to be a little more gentle, still manipulative but he will slowly get you comfortable with him. Letting you see him bare to an extent, reading aloud for you to hear and giving you little gifts among offering you things he knows you like... except your freedom.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

- Very. Very. It depends mostly on how you intrigue him. If it's a friends to more situation between you and him? he would be less brutal but if you actively avoid him before he can let you get to know him it will turn drastic. Vampires kill on a regular basis so what's one or a few more? If he thinks for one second family or a certain friend might link anything bad back to him, they're out. David doesn't want to jeaprodize his plans for you. Most willing to get dirty if it means having you.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

- No. David is tough and admittedly cruel, it's in their nature to socialize a little differently from humans afterall, even if they are among them nightly.  It would take you doing soemthing drastic for him to mock you like perhaps an escape attempt gone wrong. Every time after he sees your eyes wander to the stairs and he might feel inclined to say, "Going somewhere?" Knowing full well with the chain on your foot is the only barrier between you and that oh so precious freedom you insisted on pestering him with.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

- Mind manipulation is a thing. David has a silver tongue regardless so if you do end up cozying up to him (perhaps a little bit into your kidnapping) it would be because he made you think that you want the comfort. Aside from that he would 100% compelled you not to leave the cave, it's a move he didn't want to have to make but when the boys mention the little problem of the, sleeping through day time... it's a no brainer. When he wants to let you explore just a little more rather than have you limited by a chain, you can bet he will compel you for the best of both worlds. Under his thumb like you should be. - Again! It depends aswell on the situation. If you don't like him at the start when he's trying to appeal to you, he will eventually start to create little things to get you interested. Implanting little things that you secretly like about his presence, or even making you dream about him often enough that you feel anxious around him. Believes this is just rushing the natural course of how things should go, especially if he is convinced that you are supposed to be in his life. - It's been a while since he has experienced this "love," feeling and when he feels it it's just making him crazy and he doesn't like that. Once he reaches his boiling point of you continuously rejecting him, he ends up forcing affectionate gestures like kisses and intimate holding. Sex without consent is highly likely and on his mind as his morals are pretty loose to an extent. He just doesn't see why you continuously deny him what he so obviously needs from you. Not just blood but touch and not just a slap you dared to give him.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

- Not very and especially not at the start. Might share a few things that aren't exactly personal to him at the start like his favourite snack but not the full reason why or maybe why he likes his jackets. The only way he fills you in on his personal life and really bares himself is almost never but if you were to get close, it would be after you turn fully. There's no going back now and it lessens the chance of you reacting negatively if you too are also in the same predicament now.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

- Two ways. - Likes a little bit of fight or feistiness. David enjoyed that little flame but at the same time he hates it. He wants to crush it, he wants to have you submit to him but still retain that spark that drew him to you, his mate. It had to be love, that was why whenever you did fight back, he held back, only using his silver tongue to calm you and his powers to keep you in check. - However! Don't get it twisted, if you go too far David is quick to show you your place.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

- At first no but after a while, he would be lying if he said he didn't feel a little amusement at your pitiful attempts to leave the cave.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

- Being taken and thrown so suddenly into the mind crippling truth that vampires exist. It would fuck with you. What else exists if vampires do? At this point he's not going to hide it because he can't. They sleep all day and need to eat. The second worst experience is David returning to the room he put you in covered in blood if not catching him eat before they bathe. Or perhaps it's hearing him laugh with the boys about the "loot," they "found," lying around, morbid stories attached too along with graphic deaths, although that might gradually stop if it appears to make you think even worse than before. - Plenty of other experiences are bad, but none other than when he coerced you into drinking from the bottle, the dizzy spell, the dying and then the sick aftermath of symptoms. Then there is the bite.... the slow and cold realization of what you just did. Although David can be pretty manipulative, I think that he would only do this if the other options don't work or he hasn't captured your heart yet. - The cold hard truth that the only way you would ever escape him is by death and you can't even have that either. - Just before the Stockholm syndrome sets in and you think to yourself in the bed in your room at the furthest part of the cave. Counter productive thoughts about who you are, who you were, about the guys of the cave who seemed nice despite you being held agaisnt your will, would people look for you and the most depressing realization, did you want to be found?

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

- Someone he can confide in. - You are his mate and David wants to show you as much once you're good. David isn't the traditional marriage type but he knows he wants you by his side forever and ever. You're his rock, his comfort and his heart in one which makes for a crazy combo. Whilst he let's you do your own thing at times, he likes to remind you that you are part of the pack now and that maybe you shouldn't spend so much time tucked away with your hobbies.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

- Yes. David isn't afraid to get dirty. Might embarrass you about it too as a way to punish you. The person is dead by the end of the day anyways but it's the thought and intent that pisses him off. Painful bites that mark you all over will litter your body by sunrise as will the ache in your genitals filled with cum wether or not you want it or not. You're his.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

- Nonchalant around the boys but definitely acknowledges your presence. Will mostly demand to have you in his lap or nearby. The most he's ever done infront of his boys is spank you over his knee for saying something out of tone to him.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

- The usual. Davis knows his reputation and that he is intimidating but he hope's that's what intrigues you. It's actually once he knows you a bit better after a light bit of stalking that he approaches with the usual, handsome greaser boy offering you a smoke and a night of fun. - Uses what he knows to relate to you and have you think there is a connection and if it works it works. If it doesn't work, well... - Doesn't take too long for him to kill his competition if there is any. Might allow you to get into situations just so he could look good. - If all else fails? Well hope you enjoyed your last night with civilization because you're getting snatched.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

- Around you the illusion can drop, the burdens on his shoulders can drop and he can feel more relaxed. - A bit more playful around you but only a touch if you squint. Will laugh more and let his guard down but that's only after the fight stage of your kidnapping. You're the only one David can be described as kind to.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

- Condescending mocking. David knows how much words can hurt, he also knows which buttons to push and won't apologize as it's you who did this to yourself. - Nsfw - Spanking, blowjobs, scenting and cum eating/marking. Vampire behaviour is a bitch, the annoying urge to claim, to have his mate submit to him and the urge to teach you a lesson. - David's punishments can get really bad the longer you stay. At that point he knows what you deep down hate and will do it. If it's dragging you out and having the boys touch you? You bet it. If it's him having his way with you? So be it. But if it's him forcing you to feed from him? That's just cruel. He can see the self hatred in your head, knowing that his blood is addictive and that you shouldn't find it nice but there was a part of you who felt disgusted.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

- You "earn," your rights back once you make your first kill. David would give you a room to yourself with some of your belongings and of course some things he smuggled from the boardwalk, little trinkets and maybe a momento from your room that you can't live without. However if you try and escape, for the next long while, you will have a bedroom buddy keeping watch above you more often than usual. - Can't leave the cave and if you earn the right to leave (Secluded walk), you aren't allowed to go off by yourself without David. - No right to your own thoughts. David likes to keep tabs but this is one right that his S/O won't know is being breached.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

- Admitedly not very. David is used to getting his way and whilst at the start he anticipated your reluctance, as stupid as it seemed to him, he was prepared to wait you out.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

- Who ever says you escape? David has your scent to help him find you not to mention the ability to fly, supernatural eyesight and enhanced hearing. - However if you did die, he would have mixed feelings about it. Solemn, dissappointed and overall internal heartbreak because he wouldn't have gone this far if he didn't have feelings. - Life goes on but David would keep something of yours and add it to his look to remember you.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

- David is rather complex. He isn't entirely bad to the bone believe it or not. There are moments where either Dwayne might prompt him to rethink once or twice, but overall he can't bring himself to let you go or regret stealing his beloved. - However whenever he was feeling that strange tingle a tthe back of his mind, he is quick to make himself feel better. David makes himself feel better by showering you in little gifts here and there or giving you a few hours alone in your room or around the cave. If he can convince himself that you look happy in those little moments, then he stops thinking about that nagging little thought.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

- David has been alone in childhood until he met the boys he called his gang. It's hard for him to fully trust anyone but when he does, it can never be broken otherwise it's no longer the same. - Years of cruelty brought on by Max. Being ordered around, cast aside, doing the biding of his creator with no input of his own, living within his means. Let's not forget, loving forever is bound to tarnish a person not to mention the vampire blood in his veins. Vampires kill to eat and after a while everything can be grey until a rainbow shows up.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

- Annoyed. - You have this whole nice and cushy life ahead of you. You won't die. You get to stay young forever. Have a family of your own. No responsibilities and no one telling you what to do (aside from David.) David feels you are being ungrateful each and everytime you cry, scream and even try isolating yourself. It annoys him greatly and there's only so much he can handle before he snaps. - At first he might try and be calm about things but after a while don't expect as much. Might end up having to leave and take out his anger on some poor soul that wasn't yourself. A part of him knows that you are indeed partly a victim but the larger part of him knows that you are his and that you need ro get over it.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

- Would never starve you. David doesn't play with death when it comes to you and that's also after biting the bullet and turning fully.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

- Sunlight if you're lucky, a good kick in the balls will buy you a good 5 seconds and if you manage to find something sharp? That might be an ally.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

- Physically? To the extent of spanking you and being rough during sex and bites... Emotionally? Most definitely. Manipulative? To the core.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

- Like before. You are the rainbow in his grey world. Would not worship you but his attention on you may aswell be. David considers you his but not that he is totally yours- you need to earn that privilege. He won't accept you making him look a fool but he does put in effort to get you to like him.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

- A good little while - like say a week to a month. David can be pretty patient but the little things can chip at it. It's only when David can't bear to not have you that he snaps completely. His affections are being thwarted and his efforts made in vein which leads him to taking you back with him. There is no other option in his eyes but this.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

“I didn't want this!” Slipping down the dune. Terror from the massacre shook through your body. Legs stumbled to a hasty stand, lifting off from the comfort of the sand that had softened your fall.

To your horror David laughed and took another step forward, leaving his blood-soaked brothers to stand staring down at you. The other three hadn’t said anything but their eyes said enough. This wasn’t a choice.

“Tough shit, it's what you will become.” David came to stop a mere foot or two away from you.

Legs sneakily backed away, cold sweat running down the back of your neck and lower back. His ominous words replayed in your head; a feeling of claustrophobia took over.

‘It’s now or never.’

Taking a step back was met with a step forward from David.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Darling.”

This was it. If you didn’t escape now, you would be trapped. Trapped for eternity with them. Having to kill like they did to survive, to never see the sunlight, to say goodbye to your shit family but what for? So, they could selfishly have you all to themselves? They never spoke of such intentions before, talking innocently about the present but back then they were hiding behind the masks of human teenagers in love. How could you have been so stupid? Stupid enough to fall for them, this act. Stupid enough to drink from that goddamn bottle at their request.

Legs backed away further, eyes never leaving the now intimidating four. Had the blood not been covering their clothes, hair, face and bare skin, you might have thought that you broke their heart.

“Don’t make me do this sweetheart.”

David’s expression held a slight look of tenderness as if he still held hope that you wouldn’t run. It was too late now; they revealed their true nature and true intentions with you. Shockingly primal and downright murderous compared to their playful demeanours. You should have known better. Shaking your head, there was only one thing you could do. Every muscle in your body worked to get away from the scene. Rushing past the scarce trees, you didn’t dare look back and especially not when the annoyed shrieks and voices of the boys were left behind.

Almost making it to the boardwalk, you didn’t dare slow down regardless of how your legs burned. The wooden walkway was mere metres away from you and you almost made it until your legs were lifted off the ground.

Arms had wrapped around your waist tightly, not allowing an inch of wiggle room, shrieking got you nowhere because another hand was placed over your mouth. Using your free hands, you pushed and pushed at the hand on your mouth, biting into the skin in added effort. The owner of the hand slowly moved to be in sight, Paul. “Please stop fighting us babe.” His wild blond hair blew around his pleading face. The fight had yet to leave you, continuing to push against his hand and the other moved to push against the ones wrapped around your waist. “I’m not going to drop you so you better knock that off.” Marko reprimanded you, his voice brushing against your ear. The sounds of the boardwalk were getting softer and softer as they flew you off.

Everything was blurry, her ears were ringing as she slowly woke up. She felt lightheaded, fuzzy and utterly corrupted. Memories came back to her in a flash as she sat up quickly.. or at least tried to. She tugged her arms which were- tied? Tears started rolling down her cheeks. Hot and bold as they dripped off her waterline, and down the crease of her eyes and onto whatever surface she was on. Her eyes hadn't focused yet, or so she thought. It appeared dark as if she hadn't opened her eyes at all. Silent cries spilled from her mouth as she screamed. "Help! P-please!" She gasped out, there was no answer. She tried again, her cries for a savior- falling on deaf ears. She thought she was alone, but the feeling of being watched became unbearable. She swears she is, looking around mindlessly in the dark. A low chuckle makes her flinch, it sounds like its everywhere, making her freak out as more tears run down her face. She whimpers as she kicks her legs, there is a kind of soft fabric under her. She realized she was on some kind of bed. More memories flash back, and she remembers that she was walking home from the boardwalk, her nerves on edge. Looking over her shoulder from the feeling of being watched, hearing stuff behind her. She turns around real fast and all she sees is a black cat. Then a gloved hand covers her mouth. "Told you I'd see you again." She gasps out, realizing finally. "David!" She sobs out, pulling her arms on the rope roughly. "That's right, Dollface. It's me. It'll always be-" He appears directly over her form, arms on either side of her head as he's knelt over her. "-Me" Chills run up her spine as she screams, then she realized she's completely naked. Tied up with her hands above her head, nipples coming to pebbles as a cold shiver runs up her spine as she pulls her legs to closer to herself. "Nuh-uh. None of that now, Doll. I've been in your mind, arms, mouth, between your legs, and inside your sweet- sweet, juicy pussy. You don't need to cover up from me now, love."

She shook her head, crying louder before David places his hand over her mouth roughly. "Enough!" His smile drops as fast as it had came. She bit into his palm hard, tasting a crimson liquid touch her taste buds. He snaps his hand back then he grippes her jaw with a loud hiss, bearing his fangs that has her eyes going wide. "Bite me again and I'll bite into you so goddamn hard your neck snaps in half." David spat, making her shake violently. His other hand roamed her body, gripping her tits, then around her waist, then to her thighs as he spreads them open as he places himself in between them. "No-" She whines as he swipes a finger up her slit, her plead dies down as she sees his eyes glare down at her. She squeezes her eyes closed, lower lip trembling as more tears spills down her face. "Don't make me remind you." He gave her a chance to fix what she did wrong. He wanted her to watch as he fingered her till there was no cum left in her. To watch as he completely ruins her for anyone else... as if he hasn't already. She regretfully opens her eyes back up to look at him, the sight of him completely nude catching her off guard. She'd be lying if she said she didn't like his looks. From his charming looks to the chest hair, from his dominant demeanor to his dark possessiveness nature. She knew she was done for the second he actually gave her little clit a swipe from his thumb, making her gasp out. The comparison from the cold touch of his thumb to the warm pressure it provided. It all made her moan out, tugging at the rope to both try to get away and brace herself. Slick dribbling from her slit as a fuzzy sensation filled her head again. She felt as if she was afloat, on top of a cloud. A dark, blood filled, cold, eerie cloud. "Cmon, dollface. Give into that warmth. Let. me. in." He said as he slipped a finger into her, touching deep within her pussy as if he was reaching for something. Her thighs tensed around him as he pushed in another finger, laughing at how pathetically she's moaning, and at the same time protesting. Oh.... how he was going to corrupt his little angle.

He was now 3 fingers deep into her, and he's still reaching. She couldn't figure out what, but the feeling of her insides tingling with hot warmth brought her back as she felt pressure build up in her abdomen. He moved, placing his other hand above her mound, reaching his thumb down as he tapped her clit, the wet sound of her gushing pussy, heavy breathing, and airy moans were the only thing filling the cold air other than Davi's mocking coos and hums. "That's it sweet girl. Cmon.." He laughed darkly as he felt her spasm around his fingers, her moans pitching higher and higher before the coils snaps within her. That's what her was reaching for. That sweet juicy substance as it coated the bed beneath her. Loud, wet, juicy sounds coming from her cunt as he laughed darkly again. Pulling his fingers from her as he brought them to his mouth, sucking on one of them before bringing the other two to her mouth. "Open that pretty mouth, Dollface." He told her in a low tone, his glare daring her to protest against it. She opened her mouth as his fingers invaded it. Another whine leaves her throat as the taste of herself touches her tongue. As she does that, he wraps her legs around his waist. Moving his hand from her mound to her hip, kneading it. He pulls his fingers from her mouth, bringing it to his cock. Using her saliva as a wettener for his thick cock. He groans out, throwing his head back. "It's a good thing you caught me in a rut, dollface. Good for me because I get to breed you till the sun comes up. Bad for you because you'll never be able to leave me." He states darkly as he aligns himself to her pussy. Pushing the tip in with a groan, feeling his mind drift away- humanity slipping away as he inches deeper. Her eyes widen, gasps escaping her agape mouth as he pushes in a little, then pulls back before pushing in more. Bottoming out, he grabs her thighs, pushing them to her chest as he places his body flush against hers. She huffs out a long guttural groan, loud enough veins poke through her neck, catching David's attention as he opens his mouth and sucks on her pulse point. He pulls his ships back, the tip of his cock the only thing inside her before slamming into her. A loud moan echoes through the cave as he slams into her over and over again. Hitting deep in her as far as he can go with each thrust. "Such a dirty fucking slut for me." He rasps against her neck, licking over the hickey and fang mark he gave her. "You've stopped protesting, dollface. Where'd all that fight go? hmm?" He didn't expect to get a response from her, so he dug his fangs into her neck with a moan. His hips grinding into hers as he cums without warning into her. His viscous cum spilling out from around his cock as his knot slowly grows. His dark intentions diving deeper each second. He pulls away from her neck with a huff, her blood dripping down his chin as he reaches up and unties her wrists. She was afloat a cloud of pleasure. His cock still deep inside her as he spills his seed into her womb. He grabs her legs, making them bend at the knee as he props each leg up by the foot. He then grabs her wrists, pulling her to him. The feeling of his sinking impossibly deeper making her moan out weakly as she arches her back. He chuckles, gripping ger hips to force her to grind down on his cock. Slick, wet and juicy noises coming from where they are joined together. "Gotta make sure, my pretty angel is given everything." He whispers against her breasts as he digs his fangs into the soft flesh of them. Her mind so fried and spent from his rut making her lax. He's gonna make a mess of her, using her pussy repeatedly till the rut season is over. He thrusts up into her, feeling her clench around him with a weak groan, laying her head on his shoulder. He moves to lay back, his back flat against the bed as he bends his legs at the knees, bracing himself to fuck up into her cunt. He grips the fat of her hips before moving them to her ass, lifting her hips up then slamming her down onto his cock.

“Look at you. Already fucked dumb like a pliable little bitch.” He huffs out, feeling his knot grow just a bit more.

He lifts her hips, then slams them down again. She lifts her head just a bit, gripping his biceps as her nails dig into his arms. He smiles, biting his lower lip while holding her hips down against his. The coil in her stomach she didn’t know was growing bursts, her cum coating his cock in another coat of a viscous substance.

David opens his jaw and bites down on her shoulder, he was going to claim her as his. Inside and out.

Her stretched out cunt hurts so good. Her velvety walls tingling with a sensation indescribable. Goosebumps rise over her skin as he licks over her neck, licking up her sweat, tasting her has his eyes rolling back and hips rolling up into her. His tip touching that spongy spot deep within her repeatedly. A few more grinds into her has her cumming hard, moaning out.

He pulls her hips off of his completely, pulling her off him as he gets up and climbs over her back.

“I’m gonna breed this sweet pussy. Gonna knot you right up. And keep you as my pliable little mate.”

David is now knelt behind her, gripping her hips and pulling her to her knees in a face-down-ass-up position.

His knot had grown three more inches, the area around it so sensitive. It had tingles spreading across his body as his knot slips against her cum and slick covered pussy.

He spreads her cheeks with his hands so he can get a good look at her cunt. Seeing both his and her cum dripping down her thighs and smearing in between them.

He aligns his tip to her pussy again, and without warning- he pushes into her roughly. A loud moan escaping get as she lifts a weak hand behind her to try and push him away. He takes that as an opportunity to grip her wrist and pin it behind her back as he moves her against him by her arm.

“fuuuuck!” He hisses out, throwing his head back as he slams her hips back against his with a roughly. Slowly feeling his knot beginning to catch in her stretched out pussy. He’s lost all humanity now.

Violently thrusting, meeting her movements with a force that has air getting knocked out of her in forced outburst of pleasure.

“cmon. Cmon! Open up for me.” He grits his teeth. His knot just barely slips in and out of her, matching his rhythm. She cums around him one last time before his knot stuffs her. Plugging his cum in get as he lets go of her arm, leaning over her and grinding his knot into her as it locks into place.

When he cums he bites down into her neck with a snarl. His balls tighten and his tip spills his seed into her womb. Filling her to the brim.

"You guys are being weird. What's wrong with me meeting him?" Y/n asked Dwayne who looked over at his brother David and meeting his glare. "Cause I said so." David spoke before she could even react, making her glance at him, then back at Dwayne "You guys are weird. You won't even tell me his name?" Marko spoke up from his spot on the couch where he was adding to his jacket, "Nope!" Y/n looked from him to Paul who shook his head beside Marko. Y/n groaned, stomping to her part of the cave. "And that's why!" David shouted after her, inquiring to her reaction, stomping off like an angry teenager. The four boys spoke within each others heads, even blocking Y/n off from their thoughts as they talk. "Are we being too rough on her?" Dwyane spoke. "-yeah.. I mean I'm sure Michael wouldn't do anything to her. He's proven innocent thus far- besides being a little scaredy-cat" Paul laughed. "It's not him I'm worried about. We've seen how she was with the last halfling we let her get close to. He angered her and she literally ripped his esophagus from his stomach." David argued, stating that Y/n's anger from when she was moral has been multiplied by 10 since she's turned. "Hehe- that was funny." Marko smiled, looking at the others as he spoke in the bond. "She can't know." David told his brothers as they all exchanged glances, then nodded. About a week later Y/n figured out Michael's name, thanks to her amazing eavesdropping skills. They accidently spoke his name verbally once day when they thought she was still asleep Y/n walked into the main room of the cave, smiling unnaturally much, much more that usual. "What is it?" Marko was first to speak up, catching his other brothers attention. Dwayne gave David a worried glance, Paul and Marko exchanged glances before the three of them all looked at David as Y/n sat down on the fountain in the middle of the cave. "So, his name is Michael?" David snapped his head towards Y/n. "Who?" Paul dumbly asked, making Y/n roll her eyes. "Don't do that Paul. I'm not fucking stupid." Y/n glared at him, rolling her eyes again. She looked over at her other brothers, who looked annoyed, stressed even. Not towards her, but towards the fact she found out. "Don't look so down. Besides! He sounds cute!" She giggled, getting up from the fountain. "Let's just hope I don't have to kill him too." She murmured, catching the boys' attention. For the next few weeks, all Y/n thought about was Michael. Michael this, Michael that. 24/7. It was all she thought about. Saying his name, rolling the syllables off her tongues as she giggled to herself. David wanted to rip his ears off, groaning and telling her to stop letting her thoughts fly freely. Y/n was 50% doing just out of spite, the other half was because she genuinely couldn't stop thinking about him. She even managed to get Paul while he was high, and ask him what he looked like. Then, is when she really fell in love. His curly, dark brown hair. His puppy dog blue eyes, his jawline. God- his jawline. It didn't take long for her to actually meet him. Dwayne, being the loving brother he is- broke down and let them meet... after having a long talking to with David.

When the two met, the world was put on pause. Something deep inside both of their hearts snapped into place. Michael's eyes in hearts, he smiled shyly while keeping eye contact with Y/n. Y/n's four brothers stood there.. utterly confused as to why neither of them are answering their questions. "Michael." Marko spoke out, as Dwayne exchanged confused glances with his brothers. David started walking closer until something inside him told him not to. David realized what was happening as he turned around, motioning for his brothers to go back to the cave. David exchanged a look towards Dwyane as they walked back inside the cave, telling his brothers what was happening telepathically. "Hi." Michael spoke up first as he walked closer to Y/n who blinked slowly. When Michael was in arms reach, she ran her hand up his arm, to his shoulder gently. "Hey." She mumbled out, a small smile appearing on her lips as she read Michael's mind. "Fuck- she's so pretty.." The two of them went to the boardwalk- Y/n then asked him questions as they walked the boardwalk. The two of them told their life stories, Y/n's were longer since she is a good few decades older than he was, but he didn't care. He wanted to spend the rest of his undead life with her.

Dusk had steadily become your favorite time of day — you no longer lived by sunrise, anxiously awaiting nightfall. When the sun disappeared behind the oceanic horizon of Santa Carla, your excitement had always kicked in, accompanied by exhilaration. Instead, you’d become the queen of the night, lost to the shadows and abandoning daylight altogether.

Once the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, giving way to a cloudless, moonlit sky, the boys were up and active. It was like clockwork, something that you’d grown accustomed to as a human. Their circadian rhythm was vastly different, something that took you ages to sink into, even if you weren’t a vampire.

By the time you’d awoken, the cave was eerily silent, swallowed by a certain quiet that only came about when the boys were gone at the boardwalk. Admittedly, you were a little disappointed that you hadn’t seen Paul, but you knew he’d make it up to you later. He always did. You gave yourself a moment to adjust, gently rubbing at the back of your neck.

As your eyes grew accustomed to your candlelit surroundings, there was something sitting at the foot of your bed — a sundress in hues of gold and a vibrant orange, reminding you of a sunset. You rocked forward, gently pushing your sheets aside. The note attached to the bundle of fabric was written in semi-elegant script.

‘Wear this tonight.’ — M.

It was difficult to smother the giddy, excitable smile that stretched across your features as you began chewing at the inside of your cheek. Your fingers brushed across the crumpled piece of paper crudely taped to the dress, gently pulling it aside. You traced your digits over the frilly material, feeling it glide over your hand.

Marko had become your boyfriend, something that Paul was entirely comfortable with. Of course, Paul was your mate — that was a different title and meaning altogether. Even then, Marko had learned to settle; live with the idea that you and Paul were bound together by the hip and by heart. He was thankful that his brother let him in to begin with.

Like Paul, Marko had started down the path of gift-giving, finding items that reminded him of you, from a vast array of trinkets to clothing. You savored every second of it, of the doting attention and protectiveness that came with two vampires. There hadn’t been any intimacy yet aside from the instance of them helping you out while you were on your cycle.

Though, with their combined unpredictability, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

You sprang from your bed, clasping the sundress against your chest as you pictured what you would’ve looked like with it on. Paul adored it whenever you wore dresses — he had a habit for feeling you up through the material or rucking it up around your hips. You wondered what Marko would think, considering that he’d chosen it for you.

After cleaning up in your makeshift spring, you put on the dress, twirling around in it a few times, growing used to the liberating feeling of it. It was loose, with thin-strap sleeves and a ruffled bodice. You felt pretty — like any other gorgeous girl at the boardwalk.

The trek wasn’t excruciatingly long — you’d wandered the dirt path down to the shoreline countless times. Your step was spirited, giddy as you made it past Hudson’s Bluff and to the beach. Bonfires stretched across the white sand as far as the eye could see, often surrounded by surfers or partygoers.

As you stepped onto the boardwalk, your boots thudded against the rickety wood of the pier, your gait noticeably happy. You were smiling, on cloud nine — it was strange that you hadn’t found the boys just yet, but you knew that, once Paul and Marko caught wind of your scent, they wouldn’t be far behind.

The cacophony of people that traversed the boardwalk was seemingly endless — there was always a new face, someone you hadn’t seen before, or someone you’d seen a hundred times before. The distant lull of music filled the air, another concert down at the beach with plenty of cheering and crowds to accompany it.

When dusk hit Santa Carla, the boardwalk transformed from daytime hues to neon — vibrant, casting the pier in shades of an obnoxious pink and crimson. Strangers came out of the woodwork to enjoy the eclectic night life that the boardwalk had to offer, including the rancor and excitement of the nearby amusement park. There were worse things that lurked in Santa Carla.

Sometimes, it wasn’t the vampires. People were the enemy at times, not creatures of the night.

Gangs of Surf-Nazis dominated the beach by nightfall, surrounding bonfires that illuminated the shoreline. You always tried your best to keep away, a stark warning issued by David. The boys had a bitter rivalry with multiple groups, and by your association, that rivalry was extended to you.

You continued your search, weaving throughout the crowds that swarmed the pier, looking for the familiar cluster of motorcycles. It was somewhat unusual for it to take you this long — one of them would’ve found you by now. A pair of guys rushed past you, nearly knocking you over when you heard them mention a ‘beach brawl’ in-passing.

Something compelled you to follow, and you did, swiftly making your way down a set of stairs and onto the sand, finding a gathering of people piled up near one of the bonfires. You jogged over, boots kicking up dust as you waded across the soft shore, nudging through the encroaching crowd.

The boys versus Surf-Nazis — you shouldn’t have expected anything else.

Dwayne was locked in a wrestling match with one of them, clearly winning given his vampiric strength. He was the most indomitable of the group too, effortlessly slamming one of the surfers to the ground. Laddie was perched on the back of his motorcycle, shouting a string of words that sounded unintelligible to you.

Marko had already gotten his fill of fighting — the surfer he squared off against was knocked-out into the sand, nose bloodied. His attention immediately shifted to you, huddling near the fringes of the sea of onlookers.

It was Paul that caught your attention — Paul, who toyed with one of the surfers as if he were simply a plaything, all for entertainment. He dodged and skirted around him in the sand, laughing and mocking him all the way. “You’re too slow, bud!” He called out, giving him a swift kick in the chest.

You entered the fold, a mere human, dashing toward Paul without a second thought. You grabbed at his coattails, yanking the blonde backwards toward the bikes. “Paul! What is going on?” You gasped, catching his attention without a hitch. Once your scent permeated the beach, it was all over.

“Just a disagreement,” Paul mused, watching as the surfers began to retreat. His grin was that of triumph, pulling you into his side. “You’re lookin’ fine, baby. Marko’s got a good eye for that stuff.” The adrenaline rush of fighting Surf-Nazis began to settle, allowing him to give you a very sloppy kiss.

“Easy, tiger.” You mumbled, listening to his laughter as he brazenly squeezed at your ass through the dress. “Where’s Marko?” The curly-headed blonde was easy to pick out amongst a crowd given his vibrantly-colored patchwork jacket.

Another hand settled against the small of your back, soft lips pressing themselves against your jaw. “Right here,” Speak of the devil, and he appears. Marko was delighted to see you, feeling a rush of energy from fighting against the surfers, even more now that he was getting to see you in that dress. “You look perfect.” He sighed.

They were pressed snugly against you on either side — Paul on your left, Marko on your right. You were elated, happily providing them with a hand to hold as the three of you skirted down the shoreline. “You guys need to be more careful. You’re always getting into trouble when I’m asleep.” You chided, listening to Paul’s jester-like laughter.

Paul grinned, showering your sweet flesh in plenty of kisses. “That’s the fun part,” He mused, jerking his head in Marko’s direction. “We wanna have those surfer-dickwads for dinner.” His eyes glistened with an unrestrained hunger, coupled with humor. “Do you wanna come with us, baby? We won’t make you watch.”

“It’ll be an appetizer,” Marko added, flashing those rows of pearlescent teeth, which happened to nibble along the worn leather of his glove. “I haven’t eaten yet.” He mused, playfully nipping at your jawline. You tasted like a thick honey, sinking into his very bones.

“Before we get to the main course,” Paul added, letting out a rather exaggerated, theatrical snarl. His ringed hand snatched yours, spinning you around in a circle as the three of you made it toward the motorcycles. “Think Marko wants to give you a ride this time, babe.” He mused, winking at Marko as if he were playing wingman.

You had a feeling that you would be the main course, which made your stomach ripple with a rush of excitement. Anticipation crackled along your spine, accompanied with that familiar haze of desire. You hadn’t watched the boys kill and maim before — they were afraid it’d be too off-putting for you.

Marko smirked, taking you off of Paul’s hands as he hoisted you up over his shoulder. Despite being the smallest of the pack, his strength was just as impressive as that of Dwayne’s. You let out a squeal of delight, smacking at the blonde’s shoulder. “Marko!” You laughed, enjoying the ride as he escorted you to his bike.

Paul caught wind of the surfers’ trail, able to smell their pungent musk of cheap beer, saltwater, and their clothing. He revved his motorcycle, pulling up next to the both of you with a wolfish grin. “Got their trail, Marko. I say we follow.” He nodded, leaning over to give you a kiss once you were situated on the back of Marko’s bike.

With the roar of the motorcycle’s engine, Marko glanced over his shoulder, nudging your jaw with his nose. “We’re going for a ride,” He mused, flashing a grin in Paul’s direction. The two exchanged a look of understanding, intermingled with that pang of screaming hunger. “Hold on, baby.” Marko teased, mocking Paul’s constant use of the innocuous nickname.

You laughed, arms slipping around Marko’s midsection, idly fiddling with the cropped shirt he wore. His flesh was cold and smooth underneath your fingertips, musculature akin to marble. Once Paul sped off to take the lead, Marko followed suit, saluting Dwayne and David in a mocking fashion as they passed by.

The cool, evening breeze was on your side, accompanied by the saltwater draft wafting from the ocean. Marko drove fast, likely to keep up with Paul, who was swaying all across the shoreline as he tracked the scent of the Surf Nazi group. You felt like you were on top of the world, leaning in to give Marko a few sly kisses along his neck.

Santa Carla’s vibrant carnival began to disappear into the distance, the further you drove along the coast. Paul occasionally wove around, slowing to drive alongside you and Marko. He whistled at you, weaving just a little closer to make things more exciting.

The surfers had moved down toward the old fishing shack, now fashioned into a shoddy party-palace. Old beer bottles and cans were scattered around the rickety wooden half-dock at the shack sat on top of, littered in graffiti. A bonfire glistened in the distance, partially obscured by an outcropping of rock.

Once the thrill of the hunt began to settle in, basic instinct began to override logic — Paul and Marko were no better, submitting to the desire to feed above all else. Paul steered toward the rocks, parking his bike somewhere out of-sight. Marko followed suit, making sure that you were situated before nudging the kickstand out.

“Stay here, yeah?” Paul cautioned, gesturing toward the patch of soft sand. The rock provided something of a barrier — visually and physically. The last thing that either of them wanted was for you to get in the crossfire of a feeding frenzy. “It’s dinnertime, bud!” He howled, pressing his lips against yours in a sloppy kiss.

Marko grinned, like a shark drawn to blood in the water, caressing your cheek before giving you a kiss after Paul had his turn. “We’ll be right back.” The two were wickedly fast, swift with inhuman reflexes, hopping over the rock as they made it down the incline.

There were four of them — three guys, and one girl. The girl, a redhead sporting a one-piece swimsuit, was strewn across an oversized beach-blanket, paying little to no attention to the three men drinking around the bonfire. The other three were well on their way to becoming absolutely smashed, sashaying through the sand.

Curiosity got the better of you, shuffling forward through the white sand, soft around your knees as you peered above the rock. Paul’s posture was that of a seasoned predator, mirroring Marko’s coiled stance, like two lions prepared to strike. You shouldn’t have been watching, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Paul was the first one to move, flying up and into the fray, striking at one of the surfers from the cover of darkness. You could hear the cacophony of screams, the terror and fear that permeated the air, causing goosebumps to coalesce along the length of your spine. You shuddered, unable to tear your eyes away from the brutality of the scene before you.

Marko was ripping into another man, rending flesh from bone, muscle and sinew no match for his talons and teeth. Their laughter was partially drowned out by those shrieks and cries of fright. He bit into his jugular, cruor and crimson ichor spraying violently into the night air.

You shrank down beneath the rock, able to smell that coppery twang of blood, intermingling with the salt from the ocean. The breeze was enough to carry it all away, but you could still hear struggling and scuffling in the sand, followed by the girl’s hapless screams and pleading for help.

They were strangers — you couldn’t involve yourself in their lives. Even if the sounds were garish and macabre, you would be like them soon — a vampire. This would be your eternal existence, hunting down locals by nightfall, gifted with immortality, never to die. Paul once told you that it was easier to make it all fun and games, to disassociate whenever he killed people.

To the boys, people were playthings — no singular being was above becoming a meal or toy to them, all except for you. For that, you considered yourself lucky, fortunate to have two vampires that loved you enough to keep you around and not on the chopping block.

Your heartbeat slammed against your chest, humming erratically beneath your collarbone. You decided to look again, breath catching within your throat as Paul tossed one of the now-drained corpses into the bonfire. He looked terrifying, but part of you found it to be wildly attractive.

The bloodless bodies of the surfers were being discarded, tossed into the bonfire as crackles of orange flame flickered into the starry night sky. Marko licked his lips, now full and satiated, one of the better hunts he’d had in some time — outside of you, of course.

You steeled yourself, moving out from behind the rock and toward the slope of sand, skirting downward until you reached the very bottom. Paul’s hair looked like the untamed mane of a lion, eyes still glinting with gold as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Both of them were steeped in gore, crimson splashed across their faces and bodies — clothes that they hadn’t bothered to change in years, you were sure. As you approached them, Paul grinned, leaping toward you with a sense of giddiness, wrapping you up within his arms.

“There she is,” He purred, groping at your curves through the thin material of the dress. Paul kissed your jaw, chin red with blood, not caring if he got you dirty in the process. His mouth searched for yours, lips tangling together in a feverish embrace. “Baby.” Paul’s words lowered to an alluring lull.

A gasp ripped through your throat, able to taste that sanguine twang that permeated his mouth. His body felt so solid and immovable when pressed against yours, like the unyielding form of a statue. Paul’s tongue swept against the inside of your mouth, hands greedily squeezing at your ass.

Marko stepped in behind you, caging you against his body, keeping you for himself. Warmth radiated from you in waves, but the chill of his form kept you from feeling overheated. His fangs scraped across your neck, teasing you as he soothed it all with kisses, sucking hickeys into your flesh without warning.

Your voice soon dwindled into a simpering moan, trapped between the immovable objects that were two vampires. A yelp tore past your lips when Marko’s teeth grazed across the flesh between your neck and shoulder. “H—Hey,” You protested, sighing when Paul’s hands groped at your haunches. “What if somebody sees?”

“Then we’ll just have ‘em for dinner.” Paul’s tone was animated, wrought with a roguish charm as he kissed you hard, which rocked you back into Marko. “Loosen up, babe. Let us take care of you, yeah?” His lips curled into a gregarious smirk, lips reattaching themselves to yours without an ounce of hesitation.

A cold hand began to slither underneath your dress, gathering the material within one fist. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” Marko’s voice fluttered from behind you, like fire and ice, making your stomach erupt with butterflies. “You want us to make you feel good.” You hated that he was reading your mind.

Paul cackled, cerulean hues replaced with a blazing fire, pits of gold ringed in a blood-orange, like a halo. “Yeah she does.” He sneered, pressing kisses all along your jaw and neck, licking over the hickeys given to you by Marko. His hand dug into the meat of your thigh, snug enough to leave behind faint imprints. “I can smell her.” He teased.

They were both insufferable at times — able to sense your arousal through scent alone, impish smirks and scanning through your mind. It was easier to let them look, to think freely. There were plenty of things that you wanted them to do to you.

Marko coaxed you close, leading you towards the outcropping of rough stone, bathed in the glow of firelight. In the gloom of the rock, the curly-headed vampire guided you over, back against the outcropping to protect you from the jagged edges. Paul was locked in behind you, hands tangling themselves at the hem of your dress.

“I’d rip it off, but you look beautiful in it,” Marko purred, watching as you preened underneath his praise, hazel hues flickering ravenously across your body. Goosebumps coalesced from the nape of your neck to your spine, excitement panging to the apex of your thighs. “Come here.”

His command was softly-spoken, but you knew better than to defy him. Marko was beautiful — angelic, like some cherub on the ceiling of a Renaissance painting, but beneath the heavenly facade, he was a little demon. You stepped closer, feeling his hands run across your curves, lips crashing into yours.

It was an explosive kiss, wrought with an edge of pent-up aggression and lust. His hand cupped your jaw, pressing into the side of your neck as the other gripped your hip. You moaned into Marko’s mouth, feeling Paul’s ring-adorned digits begin to yank your panties down, erection pressed into the swell of your ass.

Paul made short work of your panties, ripping them somewhere along the way, fabric torn asunder as he nudged a knee in between your thighs. His mouth languidly pressed across your neck and shoulders, licking at your sweet flesh as if it were blood. “Fuck, baby,” He growled, reaching around to push his hand between your legs. “What’s all this?”

It was difficult to ignore his playful, cajoling tone of voice as his fingers grazed over your cunt, swiping at the oozing warmth present. His rings were like the bitter sting of ice along your thighs, digits drawing slow, deliberate circles around your clit. The remains of your panties lay scattered in the sand.

You moaned, caught in Marko’s mouth as he kissed you again and again — all tongue, teeth, and desire. Your palms clamored toward his cropped shirt, dragging your nails across the taut plane of his muscled abdomen. “P—Paul,” You managed to whimper between the intense barrage of kisses. “Don’t stop.”

“Fuck, you’re soakin’ wet, sweet thing,” Paul snickered, biting down on the sensitive skin of your neck as he began to rub two fingers back and forth along your cunt, thumb grinding against your clit. “Bet you taste even better.” He laughed, smacking a palm against the pliant flesh of your ass, chin perched atop your shoulder.

Marko grinned, eyes devious and full of mirth as he hastily shoved his hand between your thighs, having to smack Paul’s hand away in order to touch you. Your whimpers and moans were like music — saccharine, strung-out with bliss. He placed two fingers into his mouth, sucking away your juices.

“You’re right, Paul. She always tastes good,” Marko mused, chin still stained with crimson. The front of his chest was unceremoniously splashed with spatters of cruor, and he swiped at it with his palm, smearing it across your chest. “You mind, beautiful?”

Having the blood of a stranger painted across your flesh might’ve been unnerving if it wasn’t for the context of your situation. You immediately shook your head, feeling Marko’s dexterous digits unhook your brassiere, and his mouth was on your collarbone before you could get another word out.

Marko lapped at the sanguine ichor that stained your skin, tongue tracing all over your chest. Normally, that would’ve been Paul’s preferred spot, but he was busy grinding his cock against your ass, ring-clad fingers beginning to bury themselves into your tight cunt. He started off slow, letting you adjust as he circled your clit.

Your fingers grasped at Marko’s curly tresses, scraping your digits through his golden mane as you tugged and pulled. His lips traveled towards your breasts, mouth trapping a nipple between his teeth as he kissed and sucked at the sensitive mound. Paul’s hand was relentless, pistoning his fingers in and out of your cunt.

The scent of copper, decay, and stale cologne stung your nostrils — you’d grown more accustomed to the smell of vampires, but sometimes, it was a little jarring. Paul attempted to conceal it with too much stale cologne, and Marko simply smelled like blood — no getting around it.

“Marko,” You whined, nails digging into his scalp as you attempted to stay upright. Paul was right there to steady you, massaging at your hip as he continued to caress your clit. Marko’s sharp teeth nipped and bit at your sternum, leaving behind a rather unsightly trail of bruised bite marks — his love bites. “Wanna touch you.”

“Don’t be shy,” Marko crooned, guiding your hands toward his waist, right to the leather-studded belt buckle. He showered you in kisses, some far more intense and overwhelming than the others. “We’re all yours.” He leaned back against the rock, letting you use him as your perch — you’d definitely need it.

Paul snickered, laughter akin to the heckling of a hyena as he sank down onto his knees, hands grabbing at your haunches. He had a picturesque idea of what he wanted, neck and chest still smeared in now-dried blood. With a shrug, Paul shed his overcoat into the sand, following the scent of your arousal like a bloodhound.

“Don’t mind me, babe,” Paul mused, wedging himself between your legs, tongue greedily lapping at your slit. “I’m gonna help myself.” Another snarl escaped him as he bit at your inner thigh. You felt awkward, contorted into a strange position as Paul began to eat you out from behind — not that you were about to complain.

Your body felt as if it were burning, being consumed by a flame called desire as it crackled along your flesh, sparking at every nerve ending. You moaned, letting out a wanton cry as Paul’s hands encircled either side of your hips, rings leaving behind indents as his mouth went to work. His tongue split past, right to your weeping cunt, tugging you wherever he pleased.

It was difficult to focus, your motions feeling jagged and robotic as you pried Marko’s belt off to the best of your ability. “Paul’s got you feeling dumb, doesn’t he?” Marko purred, clutching your wrists between his hands, leaning forward to kiss you again. It stole the very air from your lungs, leaving you breathless.

With a whine, you nodded — fortunately, Marko had a rather ingenious idea. Those blood-orange hues ensnared your eyes, hypnotizing you for just a moment. It had gotten you to concentrate, your thoughts no longer safe, nor were they yours. “M—Marko,” You stammered, listening to his fiendish laughter as he stroked your chin. “What was that?”

“Something to help you focus.” He mused, feeling your silken palm wrap around the length of his cock. A growl rippled throughout his throat as you began to stroke him off, aided by his bout of hypnosis. It wasn’t exactly fair, but it certainly got you to compose yourself. It was threadbare, a weaker hold — you were still a mess.

Paul lapped at your cunt as if he were ravenous, a man starved, happy to suck at your clit. He was grinning, attempting to steady you as your poor, feeble legs quivered around him. It didn’t slow him down in the slightest, tongue flicking along your slit.

Marko’s lips returned to yours, grunts muffled through the heated entanglement of saliva and tongues. You whimpered, pumping your hand along his cock, stroking the pad of your thumb across the swollen head, collecting pearls of precum in the process.

Entranced, Marko kept you ensnared, feeling your body convulse and shiver from the pleasure. You looked tortured in the best way possible, mouth parted, moaning and babbling strings of incoherent words. You wanted to collapse, and neither of them had even fucked you yet.

“Don’t make her head melt, Marko. We aren’t to the best part yet.” Paul reminded his brother from between your legs, licking his lips as if he’d had one of the best meals in his eternal lifetime. His cock throbbed within the tight material of his jeans, desperate to be inside of you. He kissed and nipped at your thighs, returning to your sweet cunt once more.

Hypnosis was always a dangerous slope — do it too much, and you run the risk of making someone a mindless husk. Marko smirked, kissing you again and again, hands sliding all along your body as you continued to stroke his cock. Your sounds were heavenly, trembling and high-pitched as he grabbed at the base of your skull.

Paul was messy, greedily lapping at your slick, tongue occasionally circling around your clit. You were shaking like a leaf, all wrought with ecstasy, pleasure blistering all throughout your body. Another hapless whimper escaped you, consumed by Marko’s kiss, his hand squeezing at the base of your throat.

You withdrew from Marko, still connected by a glistening tendril of saliva, your lips puffy and swollen. You quivered, trying to keep yourself semi-composed as Paul devoured your cunt. “P—Paul!” You squeaked, feeling yourself begin to approach your climax.

“You’re hogging her, Paul,” Marko quipped, brows furrowing together. “I want a taste.” His tone was somewhat agitated, though not at you — never at you. The curly-headed vampire gave you another kiss once Paul finally emerged from between your legs, grinning like a wolf.

“Knock yourself out, bud.” Paul chortled, catching you as you slumped back against him, back snugly pressed into his broad chest. He immediately went about kissing you, licking over the numerous bite marks caused by Marko, hands kneading into your breasts. “You smell so good, baby.” He purred, nibbling along your earlobe.

Marko dropped to his knees, abandoning his patchwork jacket — unusual for him, but a blessing for you. One of your hands immediately grasped at his mop of golden tresses, traveling toward the sinewy muscle of his back and shoulders. With strong hands, he spread you open, tongue splitting past, right to your cunt.

Paul rocked himself against you, erection pressed around the soft curve of your backside. His mouth was voracious, licking and kissing every inch of your perfect flesh, gently sucking hickeys into your shoulder if he could. He playfully pinched and massaged at your tits, chest rumbling with laughter when you moaned.

The ravenous vampire whose face was buried between your thighs let out a sonorous grunt, lips pursing around your clit as he began to suck and toy with the sensitive bud. He was relentless, never letting up, never allowing you to have a true moment of peace. Marko was notoriously greedy; covetous when it came to you.

“Where do you want us to fuck you at, babe?” Paul asked, pressing a string of kisses along your back, hands groping and grabbing at your breasts. He was captivated by your pliant chest, continuing to twist and tug at your nipples — it was a torturous form of pleasure. “Right here, in the sand, or maybe back home?”

You could feel Marko’s grin against your inner thigh, tangible and impish, like a brand etched into your skin. He lapped at your cunt again, savoring your taste upon his tongue. “Right here,” Marko piped up, nipping at your legs with devilish laughter. “We have all night.” Your head was bobbing up and down in agreement.

A shudder rolled down your spine, feeling Paul’s hand guide your chin back, mouth hotly connecting to yours in a sloppy kiss. You could taste blood, yourself, the faintest twang of marijuana on his lips. The kiss made you moan, dizzy and delirious from the pleasure you were experiencing.

“There’s a perfectly good blanket,” Marko licked his lips, noticing the blanket left behind by the redhead they’d killed earlier. “Unless you want the ground.” That was certainly food for thought — fucking you right into the dirt and sand like a wild animal.

Maybe he’d take you out to Hudson’s Bluff one night just for that purpose.

Paul’s mild disdain for putting you on the ground was noticeable. “Nah, she deserves something nice to lay on,” He smirked, eyes unnaturally bright as they glistened with desire. “When we fuck her senseless.” With a brief snort of laughter, he squeezed your chin, kissing you again.

You let out another whine, on the precipice of cumming, but Marko was tormenting you, the little demon. “M—Marko, please.” Your stomach felt like a pool of liquid, churning violently as you rubbed your glistening thighs together. “I wanna cum, please keep going!” Your urging came in the form of tugging his hair, but he simply sat there, lips curling into a grin.

“You wanna cum?” Marko inquired, gazing up at you from between your legs, hues shifting to that familiar blaze of burnished gold, countenance akin to that of the Cheshire Cat. When you nodded several times over, he snickered, pressing teasing kisses along your thighs. “I’ll help you out, dolcezza.”

Paul didn’t stop his brother, releasing you from his grasp as Marko flew towards that blanket, bearing now-dried bloodstains on one of the corners. Fortunately, it was protected from the sand, but that didn’t seem to matter much when Marko was crawling on top of you, hungry and lustful.

The taller vampire simply dragged one of the beach chairs over, mane wild and disheveled, chest smeared in crimson as he plucked a pair of sunglasses off of the ground. Must’ve been on one of the heads of the men they’d slaughtered. Paul put them on, lounging in the rickety, woven chair, legs casually spread apart.

“Don’t get too excited, Marko. She knows who she belongs to.” Paul snickered, watching you romp around with his brother atop the blanket. He wasn’t jealous — just impatient, wanting to have his way with you so very terribly. “Be careful with her, too.” He added, not wanting Marko to get too carried away.

Marko had a horrible habit of killing those he slept with. It wasn’t out of malice — just hunger and adrenaline, the thrill of the hunt.

“Piss off, Paul.” Marko growled, knowing not to defy any rules or expectations. He kissed you hard, cock rutting against your slick inner thighs, feeling your hands haplessly grab at his hair. You felt like silk underneath him, warm and feverish as you rocked your hips forward.

Marko’s bloodied body molded itself to yours as he ran the head of his cock against your slick slit, causing you to moan and whimper. “Marko, please!” You whined, desperate for a release of any kind, nearly thanking him when he finally pushed himself into your tight cunt. Paul could be gentle — Marko wasn’t in the slightest.

His initial thrusts were erratic and experimental, not soft or coddling. Marko wanted to find a rhythm that worked for him, and not you. Roughness and brutality were the only ways he knew how, evident in the way he began to move into you. His cock slammed away at your sensitive cunt, feeling you clench and shake around him.

Your hands clamored toward his back, nails digging into his shoulder blades as he rutted into you, rhythm unyielding and quite rough. You didn’t mind, desperate for the friction, leaving behind indents in his flesh. Marko huffed, biting at your collarbone as he moved his hips forward with the strength of a battering ram.

His cock pounded away at your poor cunt, feeling it clench and throb around his length. Marko murmured something in Italian, teeth raking across your fragile skin, nipping just above your breast as he rocked forward. He was unusually silent, focused on filling you up, fucking you with an animalistic fervor.

Paul was observing — partially for your own safety, the other for his own enjoyment. He cocked his head to one side, watching the way your body trembled with ecstasy, nails raking down Marko’s back as you scratched at his musculature. He adjusted himself within the chair, gripping the arm so hard that it began to splinter.

Marko growled, mouth traveling from your collarbone to the column of your throat, lips gingerly pressing against your jugular. It was a stark juxtaposition to the vicious rutting you were receiving from the hands of the smaller vampire. You were a mess, legs rattling like a leaf as he squeezed at your hip.

“Marko!” You cried out, back arching off of the blanket, nails clinging onto him, hard enough to draw blood. Marko smirked, leaning up enough to grab at your thigh, forcing your legs apart as he fucked you. “M’close!” You huffed, arousal from before carrying over into this.

Your heartbeat was erratic, pounding away just underneath your breastbone, enough to catch the attention of two very riled-up vampires. Marko’s growl reverberated next to your ear, sending shivers down your spine, hips attempting to grind against him. “You feel perfect,” He murmured, kissing your jaw. “My thrall.”

Pleasure rippled throughout your body, sinking into the pit of your stomach, digits threatening to rip Marko to shreds. An impossible feat, but it certainly conveyed your heightened level of desire. “Please, please,” You panted, feeling his cock hit a certain point of depth, rutting back and forth as he lured you into an orgasm. “Marko!”

Being the devil incarnate, Marko fucked you through your orgasm, making your head spin with a euphoric sensation. You moaned, body unable to fully keep up with his brutal pace, shuddering when he rutted into your cunt even still. “Just a little more,” He purred, lapping at the pearls of blood left behind from the bite on your collarbone. “You can handle it.”

Jesus — you were on fire.

Marko was fucking you as if it would be his very last rut, cock slapping away at your cunt. You were quivering from both excitement and from a post-orgasmic haze, stomach churning and rippling with a delightful pleasure. You still held onto him, letting him screw you through your climax, not that you cared. The pleasure made your head go fuzzy, as if you were floating.

Paul frowned, prepared to smack Marko away from you if needed. “You got two minutes, bud. Don’t break my girl,” He uttered. Even if Paul’s demeanor was normally lighthearted and spirited, he could become vicious and downright unhinged. When it came to you, he was rather overzealous at times. “Easy.”

Marko was somewhat ignoring Paul, but still adhered to the side of caution for his sake and for yours. He’d get another opportunity — alone, hopefully. The curly-headed leech continued to fuck you, capturing your mouth in another passionate kiss before he came, pulling out halfway through, painting your stomach with thin ropes of his seed.

You whimpered, feeling messy and sticky, skin heated with a fine layer of perspiration. Marko snickered, biting at the corner of his thumb as he admired you, coated in his cum. It was a mental picture to keep of you as he gave you another kiss. “Good girl.” He sighed, feeling Paul give him a brusque shove.

“My turn,” Paul crooned, deciding that he’d be gentle with you this time around. Marko had clearly fucked your brains out, given the blissed-out expression on your face. “Looks like you did a number on her.” He mused, flinging off the mesh top he wore as he slipped beside you, peppering your face in kisses.

“Paul.” You sighed, soothed by your boyfriend’s sweet, tender kisses. You loved Marko — you loved how feral and unrestrained he was, but you needed something a little more gentle if you were to last another round. They sometimes forgot that you were still human.

Marko grinned, unceremoniously depositing himself into the chair Paul was in moments prior. He liked watching you just as much as he enjoyed participating. Partaking was one thing, but observing helped him study you — what made you tick?

“You got another one in you, babe? I’ll let you get on top. You can give Marko a little show,” He guffawed, settling atop the blanket as you climbed on top of him yourself. Your legs were shaking, sure, but you knew that Paul intended to take it easy on you. “Fuck, you got such a gorgeous body.” Paul groaned, ring-clad hands caressing all over your physique.

Your head began to move, rolling up and down in a lazy nod. “Just one more.” You had the feeling that, by the time this was over, they’d have to carry you back to the cave. Nonetheless, your fingers worked away at Paul’s belt, pushing the snug, white fabric down enough to free his cock. His hardened length oozed with precum, desperate to be inside of you.

Paul kept one hand on your hip to steady you, guiding you up enough until the crown of his cock prodded against your entrance. He let you take your time, feeling you lower yourself, tight cunt swallowing his length, inch by inch, almost painfully sluggish.

One of Paul’s hands skirted upward to massage and caress at your breast, the other guiding you up and down along his cock, keeping a slower pace. “You feel divine,” Paul groaned, your warm palms dancing across the plane of his chest, one hand reaching for his throat. Your digits tensed around his neck, applying a sensible amount of pressure. “You know just what I like.” He purred.

Basking in the crackling glow of the bonfire’s light, Marko admired the myriad of bite marks and hickeys he’d left all along your body. You met his gaze, almost shrinking away until his lips twitched into more of a half-smile instead of a sardonic smirk. A passionate sigh escaped you as Paul lulled you into a more leisurely pace.

The sluggish, deliberate speed of your hips was a much-needed respite from Marko’s near-obliteration of your body moments prior. Paul was more than happy to do most of the work, strong enough to roll you up and down along his cock.

Paul could be unhinged and rough like Marko, but more often than not, he didn’t want to destroy you. He preferred to draw it all out, if he could. Your legs quivered as you let out a soft moan, squeezing at his throat as he let you enjoy the ride. He sat up, enough to get his mouth around your tits again — his favorite.

“Paul,” You moaned, head rolling backwards as Paul’s lips greedily sucked and kissed at your breasts, savoring the silken texture of your chest underneath his tongue. Your hands grabbed at his disheveled tresses in fistfuls, moving your hips with the steady rhythm he provided. “You feel so good.” You sighed.

His cock hit new depths, beginning to lightly push against that spot, opening up a new wave of pleasure. Even then, he kept a gentle speed, not wanting to overwhelm or harm you. With Marko and him combined, you likely wouldn’t be walking around very much. Paul loved your chest, face buried against your breasts instead.

A saltwater breeze fluttered across the shoreline, raking across the perspiration that had dewed up along your back. You shivered, hand gripping into Paul’s broad shoulder as he continued to rut into you, pace still rather tame. “Baby, I’m gettin’ close,” He growled, showering your unattended breast in a flurry of kisses and kitten-licks. “Fuck.” He hissed.

You coaxed him in for a kiss, tasting that amalgamation of blood, marijuana, and a faint wisp of smoke. Paul kissed you with a reverence that transcended a simple relationship — it was the embrace that only a mate could provide. He groaned into your mouth, muscles of his neck flexing underneath your palm.

Marko watched, enthralled by you — his adoration for you had climbed to new heights, your scent buried within his mind, smeared across his body. Of course, it would’ve been better if you smelled like him, marked as something that belonged to him. He chewed at his thumb, dark gaze glued to you, burnished gold dissipating into hazel-greens.

You didn’t care if you came again, simply basking in the attention from your partners. Marko’s stare bored into you, tearing into your thoughts, enough for you to open your eyes and look at him. You bristled underneath his silent appraisal of you, able to detect the overflow of desire and want in his eyes.

Paul bit at your lower lip, effectively tearing your attention away from Marko. His kiss was blissful, blossoming into something passionate and sloppy — it was so very Paul. His lips curled into a grin, palpable and pressed into your mouth, which you happily reciprocated. His hand snaked in between the both of you, thumb circling around your clit as he bucked up into you.

“You’re my sweet little mate,” His voice emerged as a tantalizing purr, teeth grazing along the column of your throat. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Paul groaned, making your head spin from the compliments. A string of expletives escaped him — breathy, soft ‘fucks’ muttered from the mouth of your very aroused boyfriend.

A moan tore past your lips as he swallowed it whole, cock beginning to throb as he came inside of your tight cunt. He didn’t bother to pull out this time, stuffing you to the brim with his cum, tongue swiping at the inside of your mouth. Ripples of pleasure fluttered across your body as he attentively played with your clit.

His ecstasy was enough for you as warmth pooled between your legs, but you were most definitely spent. Paul huffed, smirking like the cat who’d just caught the canary. “It’s like your body was made for me or somethin’, just sucking me right in.” He teased, peppering your hot flesh in strings of kisses.

“Paul,” You mumbled, nose wrinkling slightly. Everything felt so heavy, but you were determined to keep yourself afloat until you made it back to the cave. “Love you.” You whispered, giving him a sweet kiss as you pulled yourself off of him. It was a mess of his cum and yours that painted the inside of your thighs.

“I love you more, baby.” Paul cooed, squeezing your chin as he continued to pamper you in a barrage of kisses. It wasn’t difficult to notice the little sting of yearning in Marko’s eyes — but Paul understood it all more than anything else. You could love both of them.

Marko had collected your clothing from along the shoreline, clutching your torn panties in his hand. “Think I’ll keep this as a trophy.” He smirked, noticing the way you became absolutely flustered. It was hard not to laugh at your reaction, and the curly-headed vampire pressed another kiss against your jaw.

Paul went about kicking a half-eaten arm back into the bonfire, retrieving the sunglasses he’d snatched off of a corpse. He retrieved some of his clothes, draping his tuxedo coat over your shoulders once you’d put your dress back on. Your undergarments were in a state of complete and utter obliteration.

“When will you both stop destroying my clothes?” You sighed, reluctantly climbing onto the back of Marko’s bike as the three of you prepared for the short ride back to the cave.

“As soon as you stop dressin’ up all pretty for us, sweet thing.” Paul snickered, revving the engine of his motorcycle as he took off into the night. He was howling — likely the post-sex and post-hunt excitement beginning to kick in.

Marko was right on his heels, leaning back into you when your arms wrapped around him. He seemed somewhat docile again, having released his bloodthirst and desire to fuck all in one go — the preferred method, really. You pressed yourself against him, chin perched atop his shoulder.

“Hey,” You mumbled, voice a softer hum, close to his ear. Marko was listening, wanting to drown himself in the sound of your sweet voice. “You know that I love you too, yeah?” Your hands gently traced around his abdomen, feeling his cold musculature underneath your fingertips.

That familiar smirk of his made your stomach do flips as he pressed a chaste kiss against your jaw. Marko wanted to hear you say it — but it was just as palpable within your thoughts, and that was more than enough for him.

“I love you more.”

Beads of blood filled your mouth as you absentmindedly chewed at the skin of your cheek, flesh taut between your back molars — you hadn’t intended to bite down as hard as you did. A singular glance at Dwayne’s hands had contorted into shameless ogling, smitten hues discreetly flickering over the veins and smudges of grayish grease coating his fingers.

He had a way with machinery that transcended you — he often claimed that it was simply natural instinct, but your running theory was something buried in his past life. Dwayne was known for his stoicism and quiet demeanor, neglecting to educate you on his background.

It must’ve been a life of hard work — otherwise, his hands wouldn’t have appeared so rough and calloused. They weren’t smooth and spindly like Marko’s, or pretty like Paul’s. They were taut and thick, dexterous and built for destruction, if he let it.

Hands that had held you many times before, touched you in ways that you longed to feel again. A shudder rolled down your spine as you daydreamed, mind floating into a fantastical haze of lascivious thoughts. If it weren’t for the presence of the other boys, a tendril of drool might’ve leaked from the corner of your mouth.

“It’s fucked, isn’t it?”

Paul’s agitated groan reverberated throughout the cavern as he crouched beside his boombox, slapping a palm against the top of the speaker, as if that would cure all ailments. His brows furrowed together, lip curled in annoyance as he knocked his hand against the machine a second time — for good measure.

“You’ll ruin it if you keep it up.” Dwayne’s monotonous remark echoed from the opposite side of the lobby. He was entrenched in repairing his motorcycle after it had gotten vandalized by a Surf-Nazi who didn’t live to tell the tale. Paul’s beloved stereo was the least of his concerns.

“How are we gonna listen to Alice?” A begrudging sigh escaped Paul, whose theatrics weren’t out of the ordinary. He huffed, falling in a dramatic heap along the edge of the dilapidated fountain. “Can’t you fix it, Dwayne?” He asked, peering toward his brother, who seemed entirely uninterested.

Silence filled the chasm between them, prompting you to stifle a smile. Dwayne didn’t enjoy being bothered whenever he was working on a project — he was always one to see it through until the very end.

David and Marko emerged from their abysmal resting place. Once the sun disappeared behind the ocean and dusk consumed dawn, the boys became wildly active. “Paul,” David’s voice carried, always domineering without even trying. “Let’s go.”

Disappointed in the lack of closure for his treasured boombox, Paul relented, rolling off of the stone bannister with an exaggerated sigh. He ruffled your hair in passing, and smacked Dwayne on the way out, who didn’t flinch or move a muscle. He simply exhaled — you could sense the twinge of irritation in his sigh alone.

Paul snickered, hopping up the ledge alongside David and Marko. “See you later, bud.” He sneered, waving at you as he departed with his brothers. Once the trio slunk away into the moonlight, it left you and Dwayne by yourselves in the cave.

You could’ve watched Dwayne work for hours, captivated by the way he dismantled the machinery, handling the finer pieces with nimble digits. He was wrist-deep in the grease-laden guts of his motorcycle, surrounded by a myriad of scrap and parts. His dark brows were furrowed together in stark concentration.

Intrigued, you abandoned your perch — a rickety, velvet-cushioned chair that had come with the hotel’s ancient wreckage. Paul’s stereo was sitting along the ledge, awaiting a tune-up that you knew Dwayne would inevitably provide. You sat down, inspecting it for any damage — it looked unharmed, on the outside.

“Do you think it was a user error sort of thing?” A burst of laughter escaped you as you opened up the hatch for the cassette tapes, noticing a rather banged-up copy of Alice Cooper’s Constrictor from ‘86. It was a good choice — you had to commend Paul’s taste in music.

Dwayne’s soft, bemused huff was all you needed to hear, prompting you to smile. You never mistook his tranquil, halcyon demeanor as indifference — he was a man of very few words. Even his temper wasn’t violent or tempestuous, like that of Marko or David. His placidity in most things was what drew you to him in the first place.

Being a human amongst a den of rancorous vampires wasn’t your intention, but you were happy — happiest with Dwayne, above all. He was the best boyfriend you’d ever had, not that it was a lengthy list. You idly fiddled with some of the switches on the boombox, removing and reinserting the cassette before closing it up.

Much to your chagrin, the stereo didn’t work — maybe it wasn’t Paul’s imagination after all. You gently nudged it back along the ledge, abandoning it for now. “How come you didn’t go with the others?” You inquired, folding one leg over the other, tapping the heel of your boot against the dusty stone.

There was a slight shift in his body language — a mere shrug of his broad shoulders, accompanied by the noises of metal clanging, gears twisting, and then he grunted. “I’m not looking for dinner.” Dwayne replied, matter-of-factly. He was in the midst of replacing the engine on his bike, placing the damaged part aside, hands stained in dark ichor.

With a soft hum, you pushed yourself off of the ledge, wandering over toward Dwayne’s scrapyard — a rather cluttered corner of the cave that acted as a makeshift garage. You sat along one of the flat outcroppings of rock, opting to watch him fix up his motorcycle. It would intrigue you more than messing with the boombox ever would.

His pearlescent teeth clenched around a wrench, clutched between his maw as he focused on putting the new engine back in. There was a quiet appreciation that he held for you — you were always respectful of his hobbies, if this even counted as one. Dark eyes flickered toward you, sitting there in your billowing sundress like some statuesque angel.

Dwayne appraised you in his usual silence, eyes carefully raking along your physique, as if he were undressing you through gaze alone. His jaw tensed, a fire beginning to spark within his chest, threatening to spread like an encroaching wildfire the longer he ogled you.

Sundresses were a hot commodity — and they never lasted, either. Dwayne made sure of it, and once he got his hands on you, that pretty fabric shielding you from him would cease to exist. He made it up to you with the gift of another, but rest assured, it would be shortlived.

It was a mutual feeling, the silent staring. His keen hues settled along the supple curves hiding just beneath that thin veil of fabric while you were captivated by the visual feast of strong, capable hands and taut forearms. You folded your hands within your lap, beginning to absentmindedly chew at your inner cheek again.

Your scent wafted throughout the short distance between the both of you, heavy with hints of your favorite perfume, a saccharine concoction that Dwayne had grown accustomed to. He loved your smell — it was unique to you, invading his senses as he continued his work.

Those strong, muscled hands of his were buried in the underbelly of the motorcycle, carefully placing the new engine back inside. He began to fasten it all into place, removing the wrench from his mouth, quickly fixing it all up with a series of bolts, screws, and metallic plates.

“I’ll teach you sometime.” Dwayne was, oddly enough, the one to shatter the comfortable silence between the both of you. He prided himself on playing mechanic — his ability to handle such equipment and repair it was rather renowned. Once he was satisfied with the job, he sat back, peering toward you.

Warmth oozed from those earthen-brown hues of his, coupled with a subtle adoration that only he possessed for you. Your smile only served to further it, the only thing to make his dead heart pump to life again.

“I’d like that,” You mused, canting your head to one side. “I think you should fix Paul’s stereo, too.” Even if Dwayne had brushed him off before, he would fix it and have it ready for him whenever he came back. It was the right thing to do, anyway.

Dwayne huffed, lips twitching into a threadbare smile, wrought with traces of amusement. He didn’t say anything — he didn’t need to. He wiped his hands off along the crimson cloth he carried in his back pocket, ridding his hands of engine grease and oil.

He stood, filling in his full height as he bent down to give you a kiss, hand carding through the back of your skull. It never failed to make you shudder, haplessly squeezing your thighs together as you reached for his forearm. Powerful, taut muscle flexed underneath your fingertips, and his kiss briefly intensified before he withdrew.

That familiar aching sensation flickered to life between your legs, a dull arousal pooling within your stomach. You wanted nothing more than to cling to him, beg for another kiss, but Dwayne was already over to the stereo, inspecting it for any damage it might’ve had.

For Dwayne, your mind was exceptionally loud — he could read your thoughts, hear them screaming from afar, which he happened to smile at from where he stood. The feeling was mutual, but he wanted to make you stew in it for a little while — it heightened the experience.

As he dismantled the stereo, you decided to go elsewhere — to Paul’s nest, which wasn’t the brightest idea, but he had an impressive collection of cassette tapes. You began climbing toward the rocky slope that led off into alcoves, using some of the ropes hanging about to pull yourself up.

“Where are you going?” Dwayne asked, seemingly finding the source of the boombox’s disarray — there were pieces of tape stuck in the machine.

“To see what Paul has to listen to,” You mused, nose wrinkling in amusement. “It’s the least that he can do for you since you fixed it. We should go listen to music.” Truthfully, Dwayne owned that stupid stereo just as much as Paul did — joint custody, you’d called it.

Hawkish, dark hues drank you in from afar, and Dwayne decided that he’d indulge himself in your wishes, picking up the boombox by the bottom. The handle had been broken off long ago — courtesy of Paul, once again. He simply trailed behind you, briefly pressing his hand against the small of your back when you made it up the incline, keeping you steady.

Paul’s nest was notoriously cluttered — in a very fascinating and macabre manner. It was littered in trinkets, things he’d taken from people he fed from, bones and all, or general thievary. The boys were all like this, but not to Paul’s level.

Posters of hair-bands and metal groups hung all around the rock, illuminated by flickering candlelight. It smelled faintly of marijuana, decorated by a patchwork array of tapestries, clothes, and stolen jackets. The guitar he’d lifted off of a traveling rock group sat on his bed — he always talked about starting a band.

A mountain of cassette tapes lay in a semi-organized heap, many of them taken from Videomax or anywhere he could find them. Dwayne simply stood at the fringes of Paul’s nest, watching as you picked through his extensive collection. You smiled at the handful you’d grabbed, rejoining Dwayne as the two of you made for his nest.

In an amusing juxtaposition, Dwayne’s nest was noticeably simplistic — yet, his personality was scrawled all over it. He liked to read, keeping a trunk of books, tools he’d taken from garages, and some trinkets stashed away in a large piece of a drawer.

He hadn’t bothered to invest in a bed for several decades — not until he got entangled with you. When Marko had mentioned it to you in-passing, it was rather intriguing, but you never asked Dwayne about it.

With the stereo now placed at the foot of his makeshift bed, placed atop a rather rickety wooden trunk, you ejected Alice Cooper from the hatch and put in The Cars, instead. Dwayne happened to regard this choice with curiosity, sitting along the edge of the mattress.

Moving in Stereo began to drift through the alcove, and you promptly fell back against the plush surface, tucking your hands atop your chest. “This song reminds me of you.” You murmured, gazing at the cavernous ceiling, focused on the jagged edges and outcroppings of rock.

Dwayne seemed curious, twisting slightly to face you. Even when sitting, he towered over you, indomitable and immovable, a wall of sheer strength and muscle. “Why does it remind you of me?” He wanted to hear your answer, eyes flickering toward your exposed stomach.

You smiled, somewhat embarrassed, but you decided to answer him anyway. “I don’t know,” You began, rolling over onto your side, propping yourself up with one hand. “Just a bit of a mystery, but alluring. It’s pretty magnetizing.” With a soft exhale, you began to pick at a stray string on one of the blankets that covered the mattress.

“Magnetizing,” Dwayne echoed, withholding the urge to smirk. Instead, he joined you, laying on his side as he mirrored your position, face mere centimeters away from yours. “You got a way with words, girl.” His chest shook with a brief huff before he leaned in to kiss you.

If a kiss could have destroyed you, this was it — Dwayne’s mouth consumed you, intensified by your seemingly innocuous words. He tasted good, like spiced smoke and the faint bite of copper.

You were eternally grateful to The Cars — Dwayne was careening into you, broad chest flush against yours, veined hand grasping at the base of your skull. Thick digits massaged at the nape of your neck, coaxing you close until there was no space left between you, lips voraciously tangling with yours.

He ripped all wisps of air from your lungs, as cold as ice as he shrugged off his jacket. Arousal reactivated inside of you, no longer dormant as your warm hands reached for his chest, feeling broad muscle underneath your palms. He felt like a god — chiseled, forever perfect — you were sometimes in-awe of his beauty.

In awe — Dwayne smirked against your mouth, unable to help himself when it came to your overactive imagination and racing thoughts. He pushed his hand underneath your shirt, fingers tracing along your curves as he began to feel a familiar tightening in his jeans.

Your scent thoroughly intoxicated him — your natural musk, the cling of perfume, the arousal coalescing between your thighs — it was a perfect amalgamation. Dwayne exhaled, sitting up and taking you with him, hands hooking into the hem of your shirt as he peeled it off of you.

His lips were on your flesh again, hands tearing your thin brassiere apart with ease, reveling in your warmth. Dwayne pressed a string of kisses along your neck, feeling the thrum of your pulse point pound against his mouth. The shorts you wore still clung to your frame, but they wouldn’t be for much longer.

“Dwayne,” You sighed, The Cars becoming nothing more than atmospheric background noise. Liquid heat pooled between your legs, a shiver rolling down your spine as he laid you down against the mattress, covering you with his body. Your eyes locked together as he stared down at you, gaze boring right through you. “I need you.”

Dwayne kissed your neck, sucking enough to create a hickey before he traveled to the base of your throat, peppering kisses across your collarbone. “Where do you need me, sweet girl?” His husky, warm baritone made you shiver in delight. Those eyes raked over you in rapture, full of reverence.

“Everywhere,” You whimpered, goosebumps coalescing along your spine. Dwayne’s huff of laughter made you smile, and you quickly urged him closer for another kiss. His mouth crashed against yours, passionate and blistering, full of an unrestrained want. “I’m yours.” A sweet moan tore past your lips.

A wave of possessiveness swelled up inside of him, coupled with that innate desire to keep you all to himself. Dwayne didn’t have an issue sharing with his brothers, but you? No — you belonged to him, and him alone. A growl rippled across his broad chest as he tore his lips away, returning to your sternum.

There was a prowess to him that the others didn’t possess — Dwayne was emotionally intelligent, just as vicious in the same breath. He was an enigma of so many things, drawing you in with his arcadian charm. Your fingers reached for his dark tresses, perusing through as he kissed your chest.

“You’re beautiful,” Dwayne’s affectionate baritone rumbled across your flesh as he continued his slow, deliberate string of kisses, making his way to your breasts. He trapped one nipple between his lips, gently suckling on the sensitive mound, the other hand tugging at your shorts. “Perfect.” He uttered.

You sighed, fingers tangling within his mane of black tresses, pulling and carding through. It felt silky between your digits, like velvet. Those veined, calloused hands gripped along the meat of your hips, strong and unwavering as he lifted you to discard your shorts.

Arousal pooled between your legs, honey-thick as it toyed with Dwayne’s senses. He wanted nothing more than to drown himself between your thighs, devour you until you were a trembling, mewling mess. Your thoughts shamelessly echoed that sentiment, prompting him to reach toward the apex of your thighs, hand breaking past the waistline of your panties.

Dexterous fingers languidly slipped along your slick cunt, making a line right for your clit. Your body responded in a near-violent fashion, hips jolting up into him, hands curling within his hair. “D—Dwayne!” You whimpered, chasing after the friction his hand provided. Those dark hues hadn’t left you, transfixed on your smitten countenance as he kissed your stomach.

He looked big when his body was spread over yours, but when he began to slink toward your thighs, he was hulking, a massive wall of muscle. Dwayne’s kisses continued, littered all across your pelvis and thighs, fingers still winding you up as he pushed in between your legs with those broad, bronze shoulders.

His visage was rugged with a fine layer of dark stubble, tangible as it scratched against your inner thighs. He curled his hands into your panties, and instead of removing them, Dwayne simply tore them asunder, leaving remnants of fabric behind. The alcove reverberated with the sounds of material being ripped apart.

A thin sheen of arousal painted your cunt, scent stinging his nose in the most pleasant way possible. The velveteen flesh of your inner thighs were layered in faint bite marks — his own, from the past. He looked to you for approval, thumb lazily circling around your clit.

“Please.” You huffed, head bobbing up and down in an idle nod as he moved his lips toward a patch of flesh, unmarred by any bites. Dwayne was always very sensual, and even when he fed from you, it felt so lascivious. Your body jolted, hips writhing closer as he began to bite down.

Dark, earthy-brown hues melted away into pools of a golden-red, unnaturally vibrant. The initial sting of his bite made you wince, but he was always gentle with you when it came to feeding. As sharp teeth drew blood, a low growl reverberated throughout his chest, causing you to shiver. Your fingers continued to trace through his mane of black hair, a myriad of moans escaping you.

Restraining himself from taking this further, he had his fill, kissing over your now-healing bite. Dwayne licked his lips, effortlessly tossing both of your legs over his broad shoulders as he tugged you closer. You were somewhat folded at the hips, but you didn’t care.

Dwayne’s gaze was incendiary, intense — he stared you down from his perch between your thighs. You were visibly flustered, staring right back, nearly shrinking away altogether. He kissed your thighs, mouth dangerously close to your aching cunt. “You ready, girl?” He asked, inhaling another gust of your scent.

You nodded, feeling every fiber of your being scream with desire, and you wanted him terribly. “Yes,” You whimpered, hands having splayed out at your sides instead, no longer buried within his hair. “Dwayne, please,” His deliberation made it worse. “I want you so bad.” Your hips wriggled again, desperate for his mouth.

A warm, hearty chuckle emerged from his lips, making his herculean form shake between your legs. “Just relax,” He soothed, noticing how coiled and poised you were. Those strong, veined hands wrapped around your thighs, keeping you spread apart. The flat of his tongue lapped across your slit in one long stroke. “Relax, Mama.” His voice made your head swim.

Relaxation wasn’t exactly your forte — you were too wound-up, too drunk with desire to simply sit still and melt into the mattress. Dwayne’s tongue began to lap you up, greedily consuming every drop of your sweet arousal, working along your cunt. His fingers clamped hard, enough to leave behind the inklings of bruises, etched into your flesh like his personal brand.

Your thighs threatened to squeeze at his head, but he kept your legs firmly planted on his shoulders, pinning you down and rendering you immobile. Your taste saturated his tongue, and he only chased after it, dutifully lapping at your slit as his nose absentmindedly grazed against your clit.

Dwayne was relatively silent — and you didn’t mind in the slightest. The only ambiance happened to be The Cars, your delighted moans, and your boyfriend’s deep, rumbling grunts. His tongue worked wonders on your aching slit, cunt clenching pathetically around nothing as he lapped you up, gaze flickering towards you.

Your countenance was a vision of beauty, all contorted into an expression of complete and utter bliss. Your hips writhed, with very little room to go considering that Dwayne had you locked down, arms bracketed on your thighs, keeping you caged in against him.

A heavy fire burned bright within the pit of your stomach, demanding to be extinguished. Throaty, noisy moans escaped you in droves, vocalizing your delight as Dwayne vigorously lapped at your cunt. He alternated patterns, between soft and exploratory and recklessly needy. His mouth occasionally brushed over your clit, causing you to shiver.

Each time he ate you out, it was almost like the first time all over again — blissful, filled with a lust-infused passion that threatened to swallow you whole. Dwayne was beyond attentive, savoring you as if you were the most delicious meal he’d ever had.

He lowered himself toward the mattress, musculature flat and poised between your thighs. Those strong, thick arms kept you held in-place, keeping you locked in as he continued to lap at your core. His hips rocked forward, harshly grinding against the bed to relieve some of the friction.

Much to your surprise, Dwayne got off on pleasuring you above all else. There was something intimately carnal about it, knowing that you only made those sounds for him, only let him touch you. Your hips jolted forward, met with a barrage of an eager tongue and mouth as he lapped at your cunt.

Dwayne grunted, lips opting to purse around your clit, instead. Your reaction was visceral, moans ascending to an excitable crescendo as your hands flew toward his hair. He grunted again, attempting to vocalize his own satisfaction of you pulling and tugging on his dark tresses as if they were reins.

A burnished-gold coloration had swallowed brown irises whole, flickering down towards your blissed-out visage. Your body had a mind of its own, twitching and writhing as his mouth relentlessly assaulted your aching cunt. Pleasure licked acros your frame, burning along your sensitive nerves. He was vigorous and attentive, throat itching with a dull, familiar ache.

Hunger could wait — Dwayne merely placed that feeling into the recesses of his mind. His tongue continued to cascade across your slit, lapping at your arousal before he returned his attention to your clit, suckling on that bundle of nerves. He steered you towards your orgasm, mind swimming with a thick haze of lust, overwhelmed by your heady scent.

“Dwayne!” Your voice carried above the nest, echoing throughout your cavernous surroundings. Fortunately, you were alone — you had little desire to mask how you felt about him. Needy digits gripped at his tresses again, hips bucking into his mouth until you were simply a pile of mush, unable to respond.

You were lost to the white-hot heat of your release, an explosive sensation that caused you to quiver and spasm in delight. A glittering perspiration danced across your hot flesh, sparkling from the glow of the candlelight. “Dwayne,” You huffed, a whimper emerging from the back of your throat as he dutifully cleaned you up.

He released your hips from his ironclad hold, crawling along your body until his broad frame nestled between your thighs. That taut, muscled hand rest against the base of your throat, digits gingerly squeezing on either side of your windpipe. You initiate a rather tantalizing kiss, able to taste yourself upon his tongue.

A clattering sound resonates in your vicinity, Dwayne wrestling his belt off of his hips as his jeans sag upon his frame. He’s swift, wrangling his pants aside with one hand, the other clutching onto your pretty throat like a vice, evoking a string of sinful noises from your mouth. You kiss him with a desperation that he matches tenfold.

His hips brush against yours, and the distance is nonexistent, closed by your stoic paramour, whose normally-cold gaze reflects with a semblance of warmth. Your hands clamor for his broad shoulders, sinking into the expanse of bronze skin, nails clamping down when he drags the head of his cock against your cunt.

“Speak up, sweet girl.” Dwayne grunts, lips ghosting above the shell of your ear. He thoroughly enjoyed your begging on occasion, with this happening to be one of those occurrences. His lips briefly press against the side of your face, stubble grazing across your silken complexion.

With an agonizing pace, he continued to toy with you, pushing his cock against your entrance, but declining to go any further. A pained whine escaped you as you tilted yourself closer. The hand around your throat squeezes, effectively commanding your attention.

“Please,” You sputter, squirming in delight whenever those veined digits tense around the slender expanse of your jugular. “Dwayne, please,” Your simpering pleas are met with a hiss as he sluggishly sinks into you, inch by inch. He lets out another shallow rumble when your fingers brazenly dig into his shoulder. “Please move!”

Cold-blooded and dangerous — but not to you, not now. The icy temperature of his flesh swallows the warmth wafting from you as he invades your space, musculature eclipsing any light. His shadow falls across you, visage awash with his own carnal delight. You’re tight around him, aided by your arousal.

Another satisfactory snarl rips forth from his mouth, echoing next to your ear. You wrap your legs around his broad hips, gasping when he began to move. His cock hit new depths, pulling halfway out before Dwayne pushed himself back in again. His pace was rhythmic and passionate — not sloppy or too rough.

The pad of his thumb draws circles along the curve of your jawline, the rest of his hand tight around your windpipe. You moan, legs locked like a vice as he continues to roll his hips forward, cock battering its way into your cunt with a domineering force. Dwayne was taking it easy on you — if he lost control, it wouldn’t be very pretty for either of you.

His lips find yours, kissing you fervently as you reciprocate in a flurry of passion. Heat bled from you, arousal seeping from your core as Dwayne continued to rut into you, one hand splayed beside your head. The sparkling sheen of his ring glints in the lower light, mouth relentlessly assaulting yours in a barrage of kisses.

Dwayne grunts into your mouth, but the entanglement is shortlived as he moves to cover parts of your neck in kisses — whatever parts aren’t covered by his hand. You feel the sudden scrape of razor-sharp fangs drifting over your flesh, testing your resolve. You shudder, eyes fluttering shut as you grip and pull on his hair.

Sometimes you simply forgot that he was a specter of the night, a fanged creature who had the capability to rip you apart at any moment. His fangs continue to hover across your neck before they retracted, lips replacing them as he kissed your pulse point. There was an added element of thrill and exhilaration as you whimpered, his name spilling from your mouth over and over again.

You nearly see stars when he pistons himself into you again, slow and savoring you, enjoying the sluggishness of it all as Dwayne continues to drag out his thrusts. Your cunt clenches pathetically around his length, prompting you to whimper and moan, goosebumps coalescing along your spine.

“More,” It was incoherent, a string of needy babbles that escaped you in droves. “Dwayne, please,” You whimpered, chewing at your lower lip. In the midst of his own pleasure, Dwayne’s calculating stare flickered toward you — it wasn’t a good idea. “Please, please fuck me.” You begged, hearing the growl that echoed deep from within his chest.

“You sure?” Dwayne didn’t want to hurt you, but he was inclined to obey your needy command. Another grunt escaped him as he steadily rutted away into your tight cunt, deliberating in the midst of it all. “Won’t be gentle.” His stark warning was concrete, you knew this — you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into.

Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you nodded several times over, digits gently curling around his wrist. “Yeah.” You panted, chest fluttering with a tight sensation as he gave you a hasty, passionate kiss, a parting gift as he squeezed at your jugular. That steady rhythm began to pick up instantaneously.

Dwayne made sure to watch you closely, gaze hawkishly trained upon your body as he began to fuck you. The intensity and the heat rose like a tidal wave, consuming the both of you as he pounded away at your poor cunt. Your legs rattled like leaves, attempting to stay locked around his waist.

The taut muscles of his shoulders and abdomen worked in-tandem, body effortlessly exerting strength. For him, it was nothing — for you, it was a different experience entirely. He was rough, manhandling you with one hand as he grabbed at your hips, enough to leave behind faint impressions in the form of bruises.

Moving in Stereo still swallowed any background noise, encompassing the whole of Dwayne’s nest. You were a complete and utter mess, devolving into a puddle of sweet moans and needy whimpers, especially whenever he applied pressure around your throat. He squeezed whenever he thrust into you, force akin to that of a barely-restrained battering ram.

Even in his self-proclaimed roughness, Dwayne was still executing some measure of restraint. “Mine,” His thunderous voice swarmed you from all sides as he fucked you into submission, gritting pearlescent teeth together as he approached his climax. You kept nodding, back arching into his touch.

“Dwayne,” Dwayne — it feels like the only word you’re capable of saying, rolling from your tongue with a wanton moan. You tug on his tresses with an urgency, feeling his hips grind against yours, flesh kissing flesh with unyielding thrusts. His cock continues to bury itself deep inside of your needy slit until it can go no further. “S—Shit! Right there!” You cry.

He huffs, musculature flat against you, chest to chest as you coax him in for another kiss. You whimper into his mouth when his tongue tangles with yours like a heat-seeking missile, teeth breaking the thin skin of your lower lip. Pearls of crimson trickle onto his tongue, fusing lust with hunger — all for you.

Dwayne didn’t stop, showing no signs of stopping as he fucked the both of you through an orgasm, painting your cunt in hot ropes of seed. He doesn’t pull out, a sensation that the two of you feed off of. If it weren’t for his vampirism, you’d be round with his children — the fantasy would continue to linger on for as long as he pleased.

“Shit, Mama,” Dwayne’s strained baritone sends shivers throughout your body. He rarely talks during sex, and this felt like a treat as he continued to thrust into you, feeling your nails dig angry crescents into his shoulder. He groans, savoring the feeling of your constant tugging on his mane of dark tresses. “You’re perfect.” His voice tapered off into a possessive growl.

You want to scream, a raging fire surging throughout your body before it finally comes to an end, extinguished by Dwayne’s rough rutting. He could’ve kept it up, continued all night long with his cock stuffed inside of you, but humanity was both a blessing and a curse. Your thighs shook underneath his grasp, and he began to slow, pressing kisses along your collarbone.

His hand left behind a searing brand around your throat — whether or not the imprints are visible, it’s the sensation that refuses to leave. Your windpipe feels a little sore, but it’s a pleasant burn as he comes to a crawl, nestling his forehead against yours.

The excitement and blissful thrill of the moment steadily begins to fade, composure replacing a very heavy lust. Your heart thrums beneath your breast, beginning to crawl to a more uniform beat as you nudge forward, kissing Dwayne again. Your lips are swollen, split down the middle with a patch of dried cruor.

Dwayne’s exhale of relaxation comes after, and the tension within his body unfurls. He kept himself inside of you still, feeling your poor cunt clench around his cock when he adjusted his position. His kiss is astoundingly tender this time around, able to taste the pang of copper upon your lip, accompanied by your natural sweetness.

A sense of euphoria overwhelms you, body feeling wonderfully heavy as Dwayne peppered kisses all along your jaw and collarbone. “You alright?” He murmured, making sure that he hadn’t pushed the limit with you. It was easy to become lost in the moment, forget about your humanity.

You nodded, wincing slightly when he pulled out of you, resting his head against your stomach, arms encircling themselves around you. “Better than alright,” You mused, tracing your fingers throughout his hair. “You think Paul will mind that we borrowed his stereo?” Laughter burst forth from your mouth.

A bemused huff escaped Dwayne as he reached over with one muscled arm, hitting the ‘NEXT’ track on the boombox. He pulled you close, nose wrinkling in disdain as Drive by The Cars came on — it wasn’t exactly his taste in music.

“Like you said,” He rumbled, peering up at you with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. His arms effortlessly tugged you down to his level, lips twitching into a faint smirk, rare for Dwayne yet mesmerizing all the same. His mouth brushed above yours. “Joint custody.”