Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
aaahh the final chapter!! hope y'all enjoy, and as always feel free to lmk your thoughts!!
warnings: none
word count: ~1.5k
read on ao3!
or under the cut :)
After a long discussion, Andrew and Savannah had agreed on an arrangement. They met once every two weeks, at her discretion, and always late into the night. He craved more, but he wasn't going to risk what they had for his own desires.
Even so, there was a noticeable change in Andrew's disposition. By no means was any of this normal, but he was more consistently acting like the version of himself he had been prior to Savannah's death. The difficult part was not being able to tell anyone about it — if he was asked why, he simply shrugged it off or claimed not to know. He thought the world deserved to know that she had returned, but he understood why he couldn't. At best, nobody would believe him. At worst… he didn't even know, didn't want to spend time theorizing about it.
As they met, she slowly began to reveal more to him about what had been going on since she had started her new life, occasionally revealing tidbits about the way vampirism worked. He hung on every word she spoke, drinking up every crumb of information she shared. And he talked too, updating her about friends and family, about any music he had been working on. She adored hearing about what was new, though there was an ever-present pang of jealousy at being unable to experience it with him firsthand like she once had.
They were sitting in a darkened field on top of a picnic blanket Andrew had insisted on bringing, the night sky lit up by the stars. He was rambling about seemingly anything and everything that came to mind about what he had been up to lately. She had been nodding along quietly, allowing him to prattle on to his heart's content. Eventually, though, he noticed that she seemed distracted.
"Love?" his gentle tone cut through her thoughts. He touched her shoulder softly to catch her attention. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah… I'm fine, sorry…" she dismissed his concerns without a second thought.
"Darling, I know when you're lying. What's wrong?"
"Just… thinking."
"About?"
She didn't respond, her silence worrying him.
"Sav." He reached for her hand, stopping her anxious picking.
"It's nothing."
"Don't do this," he pleaded. "Talk to me."
"I don't know how."
"Just try, please."
If there was one thing Savannah knew well, it was her husband's stubbornness. At times she admired it, but right now it was incredibly frustrating.
"It's just…" she gestured ambiguously with her hand. "Hearing about all this — and don't get me wrong, I want to know everything — makes me realize… makes me painfully aware of time." It was a vague explanation, but it was a start. She looked expectantly at Andrew, watching as he tried to formulate a response.
"I know it's been a long time, angel. I can't imagine…" he trailed off.
"It's not just that," she confessed. "I mean, there were things I knew, from a distance. It's not like I didn't keep an eye on you from time to time."
"And making me think I was losing my mind in the process," he interjected, half-jokingly.
"You weren't supposed to see me," she muttered shyly. "Though clearly I wanted you to, eventually." There was no need for her to elaborate, the mostly intangible trail of evidence sitting unspoken between them.
Remembering that they were getting off topic, Andrew prompted her to finish her original point.
She took a moment to gather her innermost thoughts. "Some of the stereotypes about vampires are true," she settled on in an attempt to test the waters. "Like, for example," she mumbled, pulling sullenly at nearby blades of grass, "immortality."
"Okay…"
"So I've been thinking a lot about how eventually you're going to get old," and die, she added mentally, "and I'm just not."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
Andrew became lost in thought as he processed the information. He supposed he knew as much, on some level, but he didn't understand quite how deep this ran for her. "So, what exactly are you trying to get at?" he asked, nervously chewing his bottom lip.
"I don't know that there is a point," she sighed. "Just morbidly reminiscing, I suppose." She hesitated, adding, "I'm kind of wondering if our little arrangement is fair to either of us."
"My offer still stands," he reminded her gently, holding out the slightest semblance of hope.
"Andy," she almost whined, "even if… even if we can somehow solve the problem of everyone knowing I'm dead, they'll notice that I haven't aged eventually."
"Maybe people won't catch on," he suggested, knowing in his heart it was pointless.
"I wish," she mumbled. "But assimilating back into my old life is impossible. It's always going to be mere fantasy."
He pondered her words for a moment, an idea beginning to form in his mind. "What if I adapted to your life instead?"
"Is that not what this is? I mean, you're keeping my secret and meeting me sporadically in secluded places."
He shook his head, figuring out the best way to phrase his idea. "I was thinking more like… what if you turn me?" He spoke slowly, hoping he was using the right terminology.
"What?" she gasped, sounding nearly horrified.
"Then - then we can be be ageless together, forever," he stammered.
"Do you really want to be subjected to that?" she asked. "You'd have to hide from all your loved ones, and… Andy, what about your career? People would notice."
"If that's what it takes to have you completely."
He left no question to how serious he was, leaving everything out on the table if she so chose to partake in it. The prospect scared him a bit, but he'd give up every single thing in his life if it meant he would have her back in it.
"You actually have a choice in the matter; why would you want this?"
"Because I want you." The tone of his voice was understated, but it held just as much power as if he had shouted the very same words.
Savannah stood up, walking a few feet away from him while she ran through what he had just said on loop.
"I'm not going to pretend to understand anything you might've gone through," Andrew shattered the brief quiet that had settled. "And if you truly are not on board with this, then I'll drop it and we can continue what we have going. But I promise you, I want this."
She turned back towards him then, analyzing the determination written across his face, undercut with a hint of fear. She could see how much he was willing to risk, how much he already risked by opening this discussion at all. She stood silently, calculating. Spending forever with him was a compelling prospect, a life she ached for so deeply.
He maintained his distanced stance, allowing her the space to consider. He knew it was a lot to ask of her, especially considering he still didn't know her full story yet, but he yearned for it. He had been given such a bizarre opportunity to get back the woman he loved, and felt he'd be a fool not to at least try to seize it. The anticipation was killing him, but he'd wait for as long as she needed him to.
"I need to know you absolutely understand what you'd be getting yourself into," she spoke finally.
The condition she presented him with struck the smallest chord of hope within him. He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to continue.
"It won't be easy," she emphasized. "It takes a lot of geting used to, and the first couple weeks are absolute hell." For fuck's sake, she was still getting adjusted to it herself.
But as she explained further, he only grew more hopeful. The thing he wanted so desperately was very nearly in his grasp.
Savannah finished describing what he would have to endure, looking towards him for confirmation that he understood. "If after all of that, you're completely certain about this, then… okay."
Andrew couldn't fight back the grin that spread across his face. He took a minute to reflect on it, but any doubts he may have found were overpowered by the desire to make this happen. "I want this, baby."
She inched her way towards him, gently tracing her fingertips along his cheek bone. "You're sure?" she checked, giving him a final out.
"I don't think I've been this sure about anything in a long time."
Slowly, she moved around him so that she was now standing behind him. "Move your hair," she instructed quietly.
He gathered his hair in one hand, moving it to the right side of his neck. A few seconds later, her mouth was against his skin, placing the softest kiss to that spot. A brief second of hesitation struck her, but it was now or never. Then, without another word, she sunk her fangs into the flesh.
Two nights later, Andrew had come back from a long-overdue dinner with an old friend. It was unexpected, but he'd pushed himself to go despite having the urge to continue his isolation period, being aware enough to realize how lacking his social life had been recently. His heart may not have been one hundred percent in it, but he appreciated the distraction. To his surprise, catching up had been quite effective at keeping his mind off of Savannah and all his associated worries.
He stood in his room, unloading his phone, keys, and wallet from his jacket pockets and tossing them on the nightstand. He left for a few minutes to brush his teeth, returning to slip into his pajama pants. He pulled his hair back into a loose bun before reaching for the corner of his covers to settle in for the night.
He was half asleep when a tapping noise at the window caught his attention. He told himself it was just the wind or the house creaking, rolling over to his other side. A cool breeze greeted the skin not covered by his blankets. He tugged the covers up higher, determined to not let his brain rouse him.
He tossed and turned, refusing to open his eyes even when he thought he heard gentle footsteps. The sound of the window sliding shut almost registered, though he continued to tell himself it was his imagination or some other sound that his tired mind was making into something else. He was too intent on trying to keep his night peaceful until he finally fell asleep.
When Andrew woke, his head was full of fragments of the struggle to stay unconscious, feeling like a distant dream even though the exhaustion he felt from the lack of calmness while drifting off was very real. He rolled his neck, attempting to stretch out the tension there.
He reached for his glasses, propping them on his nose. He blinked a few times at his surroundings before leaning over to check the time. A tap on his phone screen revealed that it was just before 9 a.m.
It was when he sat up that he noticed an envelope tucked into the top drawer of the nightstand, one end sticking out just enough to catch his attention. He knew he could be oblivious, but he was reasonably sure that hadn't been there yesterday. Curiosity got the better of him and he grabbed the envelope, ripping it open.
Inside was a letter in Savannah's unmistakable handwriting.
Andy —
Midnight at the cemetery.
There was nothing else on the note, simply a time and a place to meet. He could only assume this was something important given that this was the first time she had intentionally sought him out. Hell, she had been in his room.
He read the five words over and over again, refusing to believe his eyes. He couldn't fathom why she would now be telling him where to find her. He almost wondered if he was still asleep and this was part of a dream.
The rest of the day moved at a snail's pace, Andrew's anticipation making time feel at a standstill. He filled the time however he could, doing household chores just to fight the urge to look at the clock. He tried reading, only to have to start the same sentence over and over. He even plucked at his guitar for a while, though nothing close to an actual song came out of it. His mind was too busy for the day to not drag.
It felt like no matter how many tasks he forced himself to do, time was at a standstill. Anticipation was like a noose, tightening its grip on him with each excruciating minute.
At long, long last, nighttime rolled around.
Unsure of what to do with himself for the remainder of waiting, Andrew sorted through his clothes. In all his nervous spiraling, he had somehow failed to consider what he should wear for the occasion. It was like getting ready for a first date, which he supposed in some twisted way this almost was.
After nearly an hour spent trying different combinations and growing increasingly frustrated, he settled on a pair of jeans and a thick sweater. His hair was uncooperative, so he left it loosely secured at the back of his head.
He ended up leaving earlier than necessary, unable to take sitting around the house any longer. He arrived about fifteen minutes before their meeting time, anxiously checking his phone while he stood near the entrance.
At five minutes to midnight, he wondered whether this was an elaborate prank until he remembered that nobody knew about the most recent series of events in his life. He probably should have been more concerned that no one knew where he was or why, but his need to find out what was going on was much stronger.
Two minutes before, he started inching his way inside the gates.
When the clock struck midnight, he immediately began to worry that he was being stood up, that he had made some kind of mistake. A minute passed with no signs of someone looking for him, when he realized he was never told where within the cemetery to meet.
Armed with his phone flashlight, he made his way to the grave he had visited many times before. His breathing was unsteady as he approached.
Standing in front of the headstone as if she were any other mourner was the woman he could recognize anywhere.
"Savannah," he gasped when she turned to face him, finally having been granted permission to truly look at her.
"Andrew," she greeted, smily softly at him.
He swallowed, trying to interpret what was directly in front of him. "Is this… are you… real?" he asked in disbelief.
"I'm real, baby," she murmured.
Andrew embraced her suddenly, squeezing her tightly to him. Sobs wracked his body unexpectedly as he clung to her, refusing to let go.
He pressed his lips to the crown of her head before finally pulling back, gently cupping her cheek in his hand. "I've missed you so much, angel," his lip quivered.
"I know," she breathed. "I missed you too."
He stared at her as he tried to formulate his next words, far too many questions piled up to know where to begin. "I just… I - I don't…" he stumbled, his head spinning. "How is this possible? I - you practically died in my arms," he squeaked out. He knew it was a slight exaggeration, but it really wasn't all that far off, was it? "Christ, we had a funeral."
Savannah looked away for a moment, nodding as she pondered the best way to explain this. She knew this was going to come up as soon as he had the chance to ask, but it didn't prepare her for the terror of actually having to describe it to him.
"Love?" Andrew's infinitely soft voice caught her attention.
"How willing are you to believe in the supernatural?" she asked cautiously, biting her lip.
The question threw him for a moment; he'd spent so much time debating whether or not it was possible that until now he'd never given a ton of exploration to the how of it all. And of all things, paranormal had never truly crossed his mind. "Supernatural," he repeated uncertainly, making the briefest eye contact with her.
"Yes," she stated pragmatically.
"Fuck, I guess at this point quite literally anything is possible," he remarked.
"This…" she trailed off, "is going to sound insane."
"I'm still not entirely convinced I'm not experiencing a really detailed hallucination, so hit me."
"So you wouldn't think I'm lying to you if I told you I'm a… vampire?" she cringed at the final word as if it was sour in her mouth. She grimaced at him as she tried to read the expression on his face.
"Vampire," he said slowly, making sure he had heard her correctly.
He raised his eyebrows in a silent urge to confirm and she did so with a simple nod.
"Show me."
She was baffled by his request, having been fully braced for accusations, insults, panic, or any other response of the sort.
"Please," he insisted, taking a step closer and gently grasping her wrist, pressing a soft kiss to it. "Show me."
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely."
She reached her free hand up to hold his face, her heart softening as he leaned into the touch, eyes momentarily fluttering shut. Not an ounce of fear resided in his expression. "Look at me, alright?"
He didn't say that he couldn't dream of looking anywhere else, only did as she asked without a word. He concentrated on every detail of her face, watching her mouth intently as he lips parted to reveal her teeth. He stared as the fangs came out, quick and sharp. It shocked him to see something so surreal happen in front of his eyes, but he was completely mesmerized by the sight he beheld.
"Darlin'," he breathed. "You're… god, you're beautiful."
"What?" She'd been expecting any slew of offenses — monster, freak, the like — but to hear him compliment her after she had shown him the worst part of herself nearly brought a tear to her eye.
He tenderly reached his fingers to tilt her jaw up towards him, smirking at her sudden shyness as she tried to pull away. "I love you," he uttered quietly.
"I - I love you too," she stammered, still caught in the shock of how well he was taking this.
"Savannah," he whispered reverently, her name a prayer in his mouth. "Come home."
She startled at his plea, turning away after pulling out of his grasp. The idea was enticing, a pang of longing for it ever present in her heart. "I can't," she replied, fighting to keep her voice steady.
Andrew was surprised that his request was becoming a debate. He was so overwhelmed with being reunited that he hadn't considered the weight of what he was asking of her.
"Why not?"
"I'm supposed to be dead, Andrew," she stressed.
"And you're here by some miracle," he argued, not quite grasping the full extent of her point. "It's insane, but it's amazing -"
"And how exactly do you propose explaining this to all are friends and family?" she interjected, coming off much harsher than she wanted. The pained look that flashed across his face was enough to make her want to take it all back, but she knew she couldn't. "I'm not supposed to be here."
"I don't know," he responded, exasperated. "But we'll figure it out," he tried to recover his argument. "I just need you."
"I want to, Andy. You have no idea how fucking badly I wish I could come back and act like everything is totally normal," she insisted, hoping she could make him understand. "But I can't risk it."
"Please, Sav."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm not above begging, if that's what it takes."
One look in his eyes told her he spoke nothing but the truth. "Andrew," her voice trembled. "This isn't about what I want. It's the logistics of everything, the fear of putting you in danger."
"Danger?"
"There's some scary shit out there," she answered quickly in hopes he wouldn't press her on it. She wasn't in the mood to dive into a detailed explanation of everything she'd learned about the supernatural world.
There was a hint of anger in his expression, clearly exasperated with the current situation. His nervous tics were on full display as he wracked his brain for something that could change her mind, somehow salvage this. "So what?" he scoffed. "Is this…" he hesitated, unwilling to entertain the idea. He glanced at her, urging him to continue. "Is this fucking goodbye?"
"I don't know!" she groaned. "I don't want it to be."
"So don't let it."
"Andrew."
"Please," he whined again. "I can't keep doing this without you. I… I already lost you once and I'm not strong enough to do it again."
She couldn't fight the tears any longer, knowing how hard this had been for him. Without a word, she hugged him as tightly as she could without hurting him.
"Don't leave me again," he murmured as he returned the gesture.
A few long moments of silence passed between the two of them before he continued. "We can meet in secret like this regularly or something," he offered, though he knew he desired more. "I just can't go back to life without you now that I know you're really here."
She considered the suggestion for a while, eventually conceding. "Maybe we can make that work." She wasn't a hundred percent certain, worried about an array of things that could go wrong, but she couldn't deny herself the occasional visit. Besides, the way he looked at her… she couldn't stand to break his heart even further.
Warnings: near misses, brief descriptions of injury
Word count: ~ 3.4k
things are starting to come together in this one
read on ao3!
or under the cut :)
Three weeks went by without another sighting, yet Andrew was still on edge. He was losing sleep again, and what little he did get was haunted by her. Up until unmistakably seeing her eyes staring back at him from the opposite side of that window, Savannah's presence in his dreams had been pleasant.
But now, closing his eyes seemed to bring only nightmares that often followed him far into the daytime. He was constantly jumpy and on high alert, and he'd grown worse at concealing it. Still, he dismissed any concerns his friends or family brought to his attention. He couldn't coherently explain what was bothering him if he tried.
He hadn't returned home since his useless attempt at tidying up. He put it off, scared that there would be eyes around every corner waiting for him.
He was washing the dishes one morning when Raine finally pressed him about it. "Have you thought any more about going back to the house?" she tried to casually ease into the conversation.
"Oh," Andrew replied hesitantly. "Not really."
"Too much, being back there?"
"Yeah, something like that," he mumbled as he scrubbed residue from breakfast off the pan.
"But not exactly that?" she wondered aloud, pushing futher.
"Um," he hesitated, placing the pan on the drying rack next to the sink. "It's nothing, really," he insisted as he reached for the sponge again.
"It's not nothing, Andrew," she stated, trying her best to keep her voice even. "You've been off lately."
"It's almost like my wife is dead or something," he deadpanned, not so much as glancing away from the mug he was cleaning.
"It's been worse over the last couple of weeks, and you know it. I'm not saying it's not just part of the cycle, but I can tell there's something more that's been bugging you."
Andrew considered his options before responding, weighing the truth in his mind. He didn't particularly want to tell her what's been happening, but he had a sneaking suspicion she wouldn't tolerate his little white lies any longer. "Do you remember when I said I thought I saw her?" he asked gingerly.
"Yeah," Raine answered, quietly urging him to continue.
"That wasn't the first time, and I have an awful feeling it won't be the last."
"Is it really such a bad thing? I mean, to me it seems like you have a lot of love that needs to manifest itself somewhere."
"That's a sweet thought, mam, but this doesn't feel quite like that."
"What do you mean?"
"It feels sinister somehow, like someone is trying to trick me," he mumbled, momentarily glancing back at his mother. "It's not like I'm seeing a leaf in the wind and being reminded of her. I… I'm actually seeing her."
He launched into a rambling explanation of his encounters, trying and failing to make them make sense when spoken aloud. He tried to express that his drunkenness might have influenced the first time, but asserted that he didn't have anything to explain the following two instances.
"Andy…" Raine trailed off.
"I know it can't be her, logically. She's gone — I understand that," he attempted to assure her. "It's just that it keeps happening every so often and it's more than just a weird feeling."
Another look at Raine's face seemed to indicate a mixture of confusion and plain concern.
"It's like…" he shook his head, trying to collect his thoughts. "It's like she's following me, or at least someone is."
Raine opened her mouth before closing it again as she tried to carefully choose her next words. "If you think somebody is following you, that's a problem," she started. "But based on how you're looking at me right now… that somehow doesn't exactly feel right."
"I know that's what I said," he replied, taking a deep breath. "But that's not exactly what I mean… at least I don't think so?" The last part came out as more of a question than he intended. "It just feels… haunting, I guess."
"Love, I don't know what to say," she admitted. "Maybe I'm not understanding what you're trying to tell me."
"I'm not even sure I understand," he mumbled. "I'm starting to think I'm losing my mind."
"I can't begin to even imagine the kind of grief you've been dealing with, honey. Maybe it's normal," she offered hopefully, trying to hide how much her concern for her son had grown over the course of this conversation.
"Or maybe I'm hallucinating and this is a psychotic break."
"Maybe you should start talking to someone," she suggested.
"I'll think about it." In truth, the thought of telling a therapist any of this terrified him.
She gave his arm a gentle squeeze before leaving him to process. She certainly had a lot of thinking of her own to do after that discussion.
—
Andrew spent the night staring at the ceiling, not wanting to fall asleep. He didn't know whether talking to his mother was a mistake or not. On the one hand, part of him felt good to finally get at least part of that weight off his shoulders. On the other, he regretted it. He knew she didn't quite get it, and the ever-present fear of burderning her was coming back forcefully.
He spent hours tossing and turning, unable to turn his brain off for any meaningful length of time. His thoughts became a tiresome repetition, and yet here he was, awake and powerless to break the endless cycle. He began to fear he'd never sleep, but worried even more that he would, only to be plagued by horrid dreams.
Eventually, laying in bed became too suffocating. Without consciously realizing it, he was pacing around the four walls in the dark. He walked back and forth from the bed to the door, then in a circle around the middle of the floor. He was simply full of far too much nervous energy that he couldn't seem to expel from his system.
He inevitably ended up sitting back on the mattress after breaking himself out of the oddly comforting loop of motion, overtired from his constantly running brain. His eyes eventually closed after he had put up a long fight against them, drifting off into a wonderfully dreamless sleep.
—
It was a rainy evening when Andrew had ended up in a small bookstore.
He'd spent the day wandering around Dublin for a change of scenery from the walls he had been confining himself to. He didn't have a plan in mind when he left, electing to walk aimlessly and let his feet guide him to wherever felt right. He didn't even bother to pay attention to street signs as he walked.
Eventually, he had come into this shop, always drawn to the comfort and coziness of being surrounded by books. He perused the shelves, slowly walking through each aisle, although he didn't actually pay all that much attention to the titles his eyes flicked over. There was a faint woodsy scent in the air as he ran his fingers along the spines.
He was nearly moved to tears by the familiarity of the action, having done the very same on so many occasions in different phases of his life. It was funny how surrounding himself with the comfort of literature had practically become instinctual by now. The melancholy kept a loose hold of him as he continued through the stacks, occasionally attempting to stop and be present in the moment instead of mindlessly browsing.
Andrew paused in front of the classics section, admiring the numerous books that he had come across countless times before. He casually flipped through the pages of a few of them — a paperback copy of Dante's Inferno and one of Dracula with a deep red cover, among a handful of others. He placed each of them back on the shelf with the rest of the novels, moving on with his aimless search.
There was a cart of clearance books in the back corner of the store that he found himself looking through next. Some of them had visible damage — dog-eared pages and cracked spines, a crinkled cover here and there — but the majority were in nearly perfect condition as far as he could tell. There was a good mix of genres, though most of these books he hadn't heard of. A few cliche romance novels sat next to an old mystery or two.
He squatted down to properly inspect the lowest shelf on the cart, scanning the contents, though he wasn't sure what for. A children's book sat all the way on the far end. It was mostly filled with more stories he didn't recognize, though he thought he might have at one point bought the science fiction novel he came across now, only to have it sit untouched among his numerous others. He was about to get back up when a title caught his eye.
It took him a minute to remember why he recognized the name, eventually realizing it was the very same that was laying half-read on Savannah's nightstand. Sighing, he reached for it, opening the front cover. He flipped through the pages, listening to the rippling sound they made. He traced his thumb over the words on the cover, unable to peel his eyes away. It was almost trancelike the way he remained in one position with the book grasped firmly in his hand.
Unfortunately, the moment quickly took a turn when he remembered how his night had ended the last time he saw this novel. He inhaled sharply, startling himself with the memory of her face. In his fleeting panic, he knocked into the cart, sending a crashing sound throughout the store. He winced, hoping none of the very few customers noticed his clumsiness.
Much to his dismay, an employee came over to check on him.
"You alright?"
Andrew looked up to see a teenaged salesperson staring down at him.
"Fine," he mumbled, clearing his throat. "Legs just fell asleep before I could stand up." It wasn't entirely a lie; he had felt the tingling sensation beginning from squatting for so long.
He waved off the employee's help, preferring to have another moment alone to collect himself before rising to his feet. He took a breath to calm his racing mind before so much as taking another step. Noticing the book he'd been holding was still on the ground, he briskly picked it up and placed it back on the shelf, wanting to put the entire scene out of his mind.
He walked away from the back corner, inching his way closer to the front of the store. He eventually reached the exit, breathing a touch easier once he reached the cool, misty air outside.
—
He attempted to calm his still racing heart as he walked far from the shop, to no avail. His thoughts consumed him, playing in his mind like a movie. He tried to reason with himself, provide a logical explanation for his experiences, but it was no use. Sure, he could blame the alcohol for the first time. He could even disregard the countless split-second moments he had had that he quickly realized were just a pitiful sense of hope. But what of that night at the beach? What explanation did he have for the evening at the house, especially when that scene flashed before his eyes again mere moments ago, nearly dragging him out of reality?
He kept his head down, quickening his pace.
Deep down, despite all logic screaming at him that he was imagining things, he knew now more than ever that he had to be on to something. The moments were too intense, too vivid to be an illusion. He didn't know what that meant, exactly, but something was going on.
Andrew walked on, hopelessly lost in his thoughts while he stared at his feet. His mind was a hopelessly tangled web of ideas, pulling his focus out of reality. He crossed the street, painfully oblivious to the car coming down the road despite its headlights cutting through the dark.
It happened quickly, not giving him any time to react. Before he had a chance to move a muscle, a voice shouted an unintelligible warning and the next thing he knew he was being pushed out of the way. He felt himself roll to the side, the street scratching up his skin while he heard the rush of the passing car in the distance. He was acutely aware of the dampness of the ground.
When he opened his eyes, a woman was standing over him, presumably assessing his injuries. His gaze locked on hers and she startled. His eyebrows knit together in confusion, lips parting to speak. He could have sworn she was on the verge of saying his name. There was no denying it anymore.
"Savannah," he breathed shakily. The name felt sacred in his mouth, like he was addressing a long-forgotten entity that had at one time been widely revered.
The look on her face was hard to distinguish, somewhere between fear and embarrassment. Her mouth moved to form a word, a reaction, but she didn't speak.
"Darling?" he practically whined, reaching out for her.
Before he could, she had disappeared into the shadows, once more slipping through his fingers. His mouth opened and closed uselessly as he stared at the empty space in front of him where she had been standing merely seconds before. He blinked rapidly, trying to make some sense of the situation. He was already convinced that something he didn't quite understand was going on, but if this didn't confirm his suspicions, he didn't know what did.
—
Andrew didn't remember getting home, but he woke up in bed like usual anyway. He rubbed at his face, provoking the scrapes on his hands. He stared down at them, the events of the previous night rushing back to him.
He realized suddenly that the vague sensation of something happening was more than just a fading dream. He had the markings to prove it.
It was a few minutes later that the full implications hit him.
Savannah is alive, he thought to himself. He tried to dismiss the thought, to shake it out of his brain — after all, it defied every crumb of common sense — but it stubbornly remained. Every fiber of his being was telling him he had to be wrong, a tiresome battle between two sides of his mind that neither was officially winning.
He clutched his blankets in his fist, as if it would create a shield from his own mind. He only managed to be pulled out of his thoughts by the brief sensation of the fabric snagging on a bit of broken skin. He shifted to a sitting position, underestimating how much his side hurt. After taking a deep breath, he forced himself to his feet and padded into the bathroom to properly inspect the damage.
He stood in front of the mirror, removing his shirt. He stared at his torso, which appeared to be mostly free of anything more than surface-level wounds — nothing more than a couple scratches. He turned, attempting to get a look at the rest of his upper body.
His sides were scraped up pretty badly, but the worst of it seemed to be the bruises he could see forming around his ribs and upper arms. As far as he could tell, he hadn't broken anything, which was a relief. He couldn't get a good enough view of his back, but at the very least it was sore. His legs were more of the same, nothing that couldn't be mended with basic first aid and a little time.
He gingerly touched around his head, thankful to not find any bumps or other indications of a bigger problem.
After feeling satisfied with his evaluation of the abrasions covering his body, Andrew decided to take a shower, wincing as the water pounded against his skin. He went through the routine as quickly as he could manage, having no desire to prolong the pain more than necessary. He dried off very carefully before tending to his wounds. He glanced at his reflection once more, his tired face staring back at him.
He could almost laugh at how bizarre the shit he'd been through recently was, were it not for the sudden recognition that he had very nearly died the previous night. If it weren't for his savior's impeccable timing… He shut down the thought as soon as it occurred.
He didn't think he was strong enough to handle the combination of almost losing his life from his own carelessness and his hero being his deceased wife.
Andrew walked back to his room, sitting on the edge of the bed, his towel still wrapped around his waist. He stared into the distance for a while, letting the ends of his still damp hair drip water onto his shoulders.
He finally pulled himself out of his haze after about half an hour, forcing himself to get dressed. He pulled on his favorite sweatpants and threw on the first clean shirt he found in the dresser. He was definitely getting behind on laundry, but he figured there were more important things to worry about at the moment.
He tried his best to get through the day like normal, or at least as normal as things had been recently, but he couldn't seem to focus on a thing. Any conversation he simply smiled and nodded his way through. Even doomscrolling proved to be a useless distraction from his head, and he knew he didn't have the energy to write. As usual, pushing down his thoughts only led to subconsciously thinking about it more.
Giving up on trying so hard to shove it into an unreachable corner, he eventually allowed himself to begin to unpack it. Each thought bled into the next incoherently, a tangle of feelings yet to be determined. He wasn't certain whether he should be terrified or grateful, or both. He was horrified by his own mind, scared that he was severing his connection with reality in some kind of grief-induced hallucination. But he also couldn't deny the craving he had for more. Would going insane really be all that bad if it meant seeing her again? After all, that was all he'd ever really wanted, wasn't it?
He knew this would become another sleepless night, and decided to embrace it this time instead of fighting it. He knew he needed some type of closure to put this all to rest, and he had an inkling of where to start.
It was around 1 in the morning that he decided to act on his impulses. He found his sneakers sitting in the corner of the room and tugged them on. He went downstairs quietly, grabbing his coat from the rack by the door on his way out. He paused to take a deep breath after shutting the door behind him, feeling a bit like a teenager sneaking out to go to a party. Only instead of the promise of music and alcohol, he was investigating a potentially useless lead.
The wind was sharp against his skin as he passed by the shop he had been in the night before. He didn't know how he remembered the name of it, but seeing the sign he knew it was the very same.
The tricky part was figuring out where he was when he'd narrowly missed getting hit. He walked with his head up, hoping a landmark or street sign would trigger a part of his memory he didn't think he'd retained. He scanned his surroundings, nothing feeling quite familiar enough for his liking.
Eventually, every intersection blurred together and he was growing weary of wandering in the cool night air without any end in sight. He was losing track of whether things we recognizable because he'd spent so much time in this city over the course of his life or because he had been in that spot only just over a day before.
He was disappointed that his efforts hadn't amounted to anything, but it was late and he was growing weary. He gave himself three more blocks to walk, deciding to call it when they also turned out to lead nowhere. But he was still left with the nagging feeling he was missing something.
Warnings: death, grief, mentions of losing grip on reality
Word count: 4.1k
as always, I hope you enjoy! and feel free to let me know what you think :)
read on ao3
or under the cut!
Savannah's funeral was arguably the hardest part yet.
The investigation had gone nowhere, somehow being chalked up to a tragic accident. That didn't sit right with Andrew, but he didn't know enough to push back the way he wanted to. He felt there was something more going on and was terribly helpless to do anything about it. He didn't dare speak a word of this, unwilling to draw further attention and pity to himself.
So here he was, sitting on the edge of his childhood bed in a black suit. He was fully dressed except for his tie, which hung untied around his neck. But instead of getting up and heading downstairs to join the rest of his family before leaving for the service, he remained motionless.
A knock on the door startled him, swinging open before he had the chance to respond.
"You ready?" Jon called, stepping into the room.
"No," Andrew shook his head. "Not really."
Jon crossed the remainder of the distance to the bed, taking the liberty of fixing his younger brother's tie for him.
"I don't want to go," Andrew confessed, making the briefest eye contact before looking away.
"You'll regret it if you don't," Jon told him bluntly. Then, more gently, "She'd want you to."
"I know," Andrew replied sadly. "I just… never mind." He shook his head as if to dismiss the thought.
"No, what?"
"I feel like…" he paused, collecting his thoughts. "I feel like by going to the funeral, that somehow solidifies this as a real thing — it's an official end."
Jon looked at him compassionately, lacking the words to comfort him.
"And if this ends, then… that's it. She's just… gone." Andrew dug his nails into his palm to keep himself from crying. "She's never coming back."
Before either of them had the chance to say anything more, their mother's voice called out to them, urging them to hurry up.
Sighing, Andrew rose from the bed, walking with his brother down the stairs to find their parents waiting for them.
The service was quite nice, objectively — Andrew just dreaded every second he was there. The last thing he wanted to was to be surrounded by people offering their condolences. He dodged as many friends and extended family as he could, having a few excuses prepared for when he needed them.
Raine eventually found him sitting in the grass outside, taking a much needed break from the depressing commotion.
"How you holding up, honey?"
"Terribly," he snorted, wiping a few stray tears from his eyes.
"I figured as much, but it's good you're here."
"I take it Jon told you I didn't want to come?"
"He did," she admitted. "But it wasn't that difficult to guess, either."
Pulling at the blades of grass next to him, he let out a breath. "Does that make me a horrible person, not wanting to go to my own wife's funeral?"
"No, I don't think so. You're still hurting; you don't want to accept it."
"I really loved her," his voice broke. "I still do — always will."
"I know," Raine replied.
"Do you think she knew?" Andrew looked at his mother with misty eyes. "You know, how much I loved her?"
"Of course she did," Raine assured him. "You never let her forget that; I've seen it, Andy."
He nodded, looking off into the distance again. His biggest regret was not telling her one last time. It shattered him knowing that he would never get to again.
After a great deal of convincing, he reluctantly followed her back inside with the rest of the attendees. He managed a bit of conversation, pretending that every mention of her name or anecdote about her didn't fill him with an intense dread. He forced a smile at family members' jokes and tried desperately to hold in the scream he wanted to release.
He understood, logically, that the purpose of a funeral was to honor the deceased, to celebrate the life that they had. But every interaction seemed to ignore just how utterly horrible everything was now that she was gone. Her life was cut incredibly short — there were so many plans they had made together both for the near future and far, that they would never be able to experience. He remembered suddenly that he had planned to surprise her with a vacation in Greece for their anniversary in a few months. And yet, he was standing around with extended family, forced to participate in the worst social obligation of his life.
He felt shitty for not wanting to talk about her — she was the love of his life, after all — but the weight of it was still crushing. He couldn't bring himself to even think of her in the past tense most days, and like he predicted, this day was making it all too real. He supposed he should find comfort in being surrounded by fellow mourners, but all he wanted was to go home and curl up under the covers. Having his grief amplified by being expected to socialize with people he rarely saw only made his problems worse.
Eventually, mercifully, the gathering ended. Andrew was relieved, then felt guilty for feeling that way.
A few days later, Andrew had worked up the courage to visit the graveyard. He stood awkwardly in front of Savannah's headstone, holding a bouquet of flowers.
"Hi, angel," he murmured, feeling a bit ridiculous for speaking as though she could hear him. "I brought you something," he continued anyway, setting the lilies down next to the stone.
He sat down cross legged in front of the grave, twisting his wedding band around his finger as he stared ahead. A breeze blew through his untamed curls, no doubt ruining whatever mess had already been settled on his head. "I miss you," he uttered softly. "More than you could ever know."
"I've, uh, I haven't been doing too well," he confessed. "Never thought I'd be living with my parents again at this age," he laughed dryly.
"This isn't fair," he stated after a brief silence had settled back down. "You should be here." He found his voice wavering as he spoke. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you."
"God, I must look insane," he groaned softly, burying his head in his hands. "Look — if there is an afterlife, I hope you can hear me."
He reached out for a moment, trailing his fingers along the engraving in the cool stone. "I… I'll see you soon, my darling. I love you so much." He rested his head against it, allowing himself to let a few more tears slide down his cheeks. His lips met the marker softly as he stood up to make his way back home. It was the closest he'd get to kissing her now.
He still had a lot of healing to do, but he returned home, able to write for the first time since he had lost her. The first couple of songs he wrote ended up more or less being letters to her, always his muse.
Visiting the cemetery had become somewhat of a regular occurrence for him, and sometimes he'd read out lyrics he was working on. Other times he'd update her about things going on in his life. More than once he'd simply sat quietly, focusing on a gust of wind or a bee buzzing nearby. It was strange, but it seemed to have a therapeutic quality.
—
Time progressed, and while Andrew was by no means an expert at navigating the pain, he had slowly learned to live with it. He'd written dozens of songs and poems over the last couple of months, often found scribbling furiously in his notebook. Whether the act was a release or simply an excessive coping mechanism was open to interpretation. Regardless, his friends and family were just happy to see him creating again.
Slowly but surely, his loved ones pulled him back out of the shell he'd become. It wasn't perfect, usually quite messy, but on a good day they got him out of the house for a little bit.
One night, his brother had dragged him out, insistent on taking him to the bars in hopes that he'd forget his troubles for a while. Andrew was resistant, mumbling about having things to do, but eventually conceded. As anxious as it had initially made him, the thought of turning off his brain for a while was tempting. Maybe he deserved a night off from the constant internal torture.
A few girls had tried to come up to him and talk, but he dismissed them after a quick exchange of pleasantries. He wanted a distraction, but not like this. Not even the promise of an impending buzz could push him into casual social interaction with strangers. He wasn't ready to act like a functioning member of society yet, let alone allow himself to be flirted with.
Several drinks in, Andrew became emotional. It was the complete opposite of the intended effects of the night, but Jon let him ride it out for a bit. Andrew talked in circles about how much he missed Savannah, at one point resting his forehead against his brother's shoulder while he wallowed.
"Alright, we're getting you another drink," Jon chuckled after Andrew had mumbled a muffled thank you to him for being there. He really could be such a sap sometimes.
They put away drink after drink, eventually stumbling out into the cool night air around two in the morning. Andrew was well past the point of emotional, now back to a tired and giggly version of himself. He couldn't even remember what he'd been laughing at, yet found himself unable to stop now. He'd regret it in the morning, having not pushed his limits like this in quite some time. But for the time being, he was content — something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in months.
Walking the streets, he almost tripped over his own feet more times than he could count. Everything felt silly to him, and he laughed at his own clumsiness.
As they rounded a corner, Andrew caught a glimpse of hair that was eerily familiar, stopping him dead in his tracks. "Sav…?" he started to mumble under his breath. Whatever it was disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.
"Hm?" Jon asked, having not been entirely focused on Andrew.
"Thought I saw… never mind," Andrew muttered, shaking his head to dismiss the thought. That would be impossible, he reminded himself. Something about it seemed to nag at him, though he couldn't pinpoint it.
Jon didn't press him further, having an inkling of an idea about what he'd been referring to but deciding to leave him be. Neither of them was sober enough to be having that conversation.
Andrew woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, an unfortunate reminder of the previous night's excursion. Bits and pieces of his time out flashed through his mind, snippets of small talk and the vague feeling of embarrassing himself — he hadn't tried to dance, had he?
He rolled over, pulling his phone off the nightstand to quickly scroll through his notification center. A mistake, really, as the sudden light in his eyes made his condition worse. The quickest glimpse of his wallpaper — his favorite picture of him and Savannah, an arm around her shoulders as he kissed her cheek — constricted his heart.
Squeezing his eyes tightly shut in a futile attempt to keep both the headache and his endless spiraling at bay, he was suddenly reminded of the scene from his journey home. He knew it couldn't have been her that he had seen, and he hadn't exactly noticed very much to begin with. He dismissed the thought as the result of the alcohol in his system momentarily crossing the wires in his brain. His heart longed for her, and he was just seeing what he wanted to see.
—
The next time he saw her was a few weeks later, just enough time for him to have mostly pushed the memory to the depths of his mind.
He'd gone for a stroll along the beach one evening after dinner when the sun had begun to set. He took a moment to appreciate the intense vivids on the horizon as it sunk further and further out of sight, slowly being replaced with the cool blue tones of the nighttime sky.
He continued walking along the shoreline, listening to the comforting sounds of the waves crashing against the deserted sand. The noise reminded him that he hadn't gone for one of his early morning swims in far too long. He wasn't sure he was ready for the commitment of getting back into that routine quite yet. The thought of the activity served as a reminder of all the times he'd come back from a plunge to find Savannah still peacefully asleep in their shared bed, or the rare occasions when she'd been awake and he'd find her in the kitchen brewing coffee while she cooked breakfast.
After spending a nearly unnecessary amount of time aimlessly wandering the shores, stuck in his memories, Andrew finally trudged back towards the parking lot. He fumbled around in his pockets before finally pulling out his car keys.
The emptiness of the lot in this darkness was peaceful, yet something left Andrew feeling strangely unsettled. He swore he felt eyes burning into the back of his head, but he turned around to find himself utterly alone. The only car around was his; it made no sense that anybody else should be there.
He walked more briskly towards the vehicle, wanting to get out of there as quickly as he could. As he hit the unlock button on his key, a shadowy figure was illuminated by the headlights for a fraction of a second before disappearing into the night like they had never been there at all. But he could have sworn he recognized a flash of their sneakers before they apparently ceased to exist.
Andrew was jumpy on the drive back to his parents' house, every shadow in every dark corner a potential threat. He knew he was being illogical; whatever he'd seen had surely been a trick of the light and his tired eyes. He just couldn't quite shake the feeling that something more sinister was going on.
He opened the door quietly, figuring that he could sneak into bed and try to sleep off whatever was apparently wrong with his brain. His plans were foiled when his mother caught his presence in the living room as he tried to slip upstairs unnoticed.
"Andy," she began, a look of surprise crossing her face as she turned her head towards him. "Is everything alright?"
"Fine," he answered a bit too quickly.
"You look like you've seen a ghost, dear," she hummed, taking note of his paler than normal complexion.
"I think maybe I did," he muttered, mostly to himself but trying to sound sarcastic to avoid further questioning.
"What happened?" She patted the seat on the couch next to her, motioning for him to sit down.
He wasn't much in the mood to explain, not even sure how. Despite that, he reluctantly sat next to her.
"Nothing," he insisted. "I just…" he trailed off, words dying on his tongue as he realized this would make no sense to any rational person. "Maybe I just haven't been getting enough sleep," he deflected.
"Well, I'd wager a guess that that is the case, knowing you," Raine responded. "But that doesn't really explain why you seem so agitated."
Andrew nervously rubbed the palm of his hand, staring down at his shoes instead of making eye contact. "I thought I saw her tonight," he mumbled, feeling pathetic in his admission.
"Oh honey," Raine sighed. "That's not uncommon."
"I guess," he shrugged. All he wanted in that moment was to be free of this discussion because he wasn't sure how to explain the logic behind this to anyone. It just wasn't as simple as being out shopping and running into a doppelganger.
His mother leaned over to kiss the top of his head. "You probably should be getting more sleep, though."
"Yeah, yeah," he rolled his eyes.
"You're the one who said it first."
The tiniest hint of a smile played across his lips, feeling momentarily like a kid again at the turn their talk had taken. It wasn't at all the conclusion he had expected, but he found himself grateful for the escape from the need to fruitlessly overexplain himself.
"You're going to be just fine," she assured him, unprompted, smiling back at him.
—
Twice is a coincidence, but three times makes a pattern.
About two and a half months later, Andrew was beginning to entertain the idea of moving back to his house. He wasn't completely sold on it just yet, having been avoiding going back since that night. But he was also starting to go a little crazy from spending so long living back with his parents. He didn't mind it all the time, but he had days where it was difficult to handle. There was also the looming thought that they didn't deserve to be burdened by him any longer, though he kept that locked inside.
When he first proposed the idea to his parents, they were supportive, telling him that if he felt ready for it then he should do it. He could tell they still had their concerns, though.
They shared a look before John spoke thoughtfully. "Why don't you go down there to clean up some things and see how you feel?"
Andrew considered the suggestion, knowing that ultimately taking baby steps was a smart move. He hadn't really thought much of decluttering or sweeping until now, not having viewed returning to that place as a viable option at any point in his near future. Anything he needed from his house in time he had been staying here he'd enlisted the help of family members to retrieve.
"Yeah, that's probably a good idea."
Three days later he had worked up the courage and motivation to make the journey over there. The key to the front door felt foreign in his hand now, and he turned it over a few times before inserting it into the lock.
His breath hitched as he entered, met quickly with the room that had permanently altered the trajectory of his life. The blood had been scrubbed out of the floor, and that somehow added to the eeriness of the empty home.
He meandered slowly, taking in every detail around him. The little things hit him the hardest — the coffee maker that hadn't been touched in months, Savannah's body wash still sitting on the edge of the bath tub like it was waiting to be used, the slightly ruffled bedsheets where she'd likely been sleeping moments before disaster struck. It was like the house had been frozen in time, a snapshot of a life lived. But there hadn't been life inside of it in quite some time.
After inspecting every room, Andrew was stood in the bedroom feeling lost. He was almost scared to touch anything, as if doing so would disturb some deeply engrained illusion.
Tentatively, he allowed himself to drift towards the nightstand on his side of the bed. There was a book that had begun to accumulate a thin layer of dust that he had never gotten around to reading. A phone charger lay unplugged next to it.
Savannah's side was similar — a novel with a bookmark inserted at the halfway point, a bracelet she had probably taken off just before bed, and a tube of lip balm sat untouched on the surface of the nightstand along with a few scattered hair ties.
He picked up the book gingerly, carefully flipping the pages with his thumb. He turned it over, reading the synopsis on the back. From what he could surmise, it was some fantasy book that was on par for her usual taste. He ached knowing she never got the chance to finish it.
He inhaled slowly, reminding himself what he came here to do. It occurred to him then that he didn't really know where to start. He had to dust and vacuum, and worst of all, start to go through her belongings. He worried he wasn't strong enough to handle the challenge.
He decided eventually to start with the room he was in, but even that prospect was overwhelming. Looking around the bedroom, he figured the closet would be manageable, at least relative to the behemoth that was his entire home.
Unfortunately, all efforts were cut short once he stumbled upon a small tin he didn't recognize hidden underneath a pile of sweatshirts on the top shelf. Taking the lid off revealed a collection of photos, movie tickets, and other tangible reminders of the life they had together. There was a concert wristband buried underneath it all from the first show they went to together. The box seemed to act as a loose scrapbook of sorts.
He pulled out the numerous pictures, taking the time to look closely at each one. A polaroid of him from their honeymoon, sitting on the balcony of their hotel room with his sunglasses perched atop his head. A second photo from that same trip, one he had taken of her. She was sitting across from him at an outdoor cafe, the sun illuminating her features. She was mid-laugh, a candid that he had been quick to capture.
Underneath those laid a handful of pictures from their wedding day. He flipped through them, shaking his head and mumbling to himself as he remembered each of the scenes. There were photos of the two of them with their friends and family throughout the course of that day. His personal favorite was a candid of them taken in the middle of cutting the cake. Savannah had the knife held steadily in her hands, and he was standing close, gazing at her with adoration. As far as he had been concerned, he was the luckiest man in the world that day.
He took a deep breath as he continued to inspect the rest of the collection.
Next he found a photo booth strip, the two of them squished together in the tiny space. They were smiling in one panel, making goofy faces in the second, trying to look serious in the third, and sharing a sweet kiss in the final one. He remembered how he'd suggested the last pose, how she had called him cheesy but did it anyway.
Andrew went through every item in that container until he was absolutey certain that he had seen it all. He went back to the pictures again, smiling sadly at all the memories that were now confined to a particular time and space. By the time he managed to pull his eyes away, the moonlight was starting to shine through his window.
He forced himself up, stretching out his arms and legs after the hours spent sitting on the floor hunched over. He didn't realize he hadn't eaten since having a late breakfast until his stomach growled loudly, nearly deafening in the silence. Figuring he had no hope of accomplishing anything for the day, he decided to head out, making a mental note to stop somewhere for dinner on his way.
He was halfway into the driveway before he remembered he'd left his phone inside. He steeled himself to re enter, deciding he would grab it as quickly as possible. The house felt even creepier now that the sun was gone.
He opened the door, practically jogging to where he last remembered seeing it. Sure enough, he had left it on the floor next to the scattered items he'd spent the evening staring at. He picked it up, shoving it in his pocket before trying to get back to the door as fast as humanly possible. He didn't want to be there any longer than absolutely necessary.
As he did one final check for his phone, keys, and wallet, he quickly scanned to make sure he hadn't left any lights on accidentally. His eyes locked on a window on the far side of the room just before he was about to turn back around to leave, a face looking back at him. Her face looking back at him. He blinked and returned his gaze to that spot, but she was gone.
Andrew didn't know if he could write this one off as his eyes playing tricks on him. He was completely sober, there were no lights on that could reflect against the glass in a weird way. It essentially confirmed that he truly had seen something on the past two occasions. Or maybe he was simply starting to lose it.
Either way, he needed to get the hell out of there.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Then one night, his perfect world shatters when he comes home and finds his wife, Savannah, bleeding out on the living room floor. She's rushed to the hospital, but all the doctors' attempts are useless.
Andrew is devastated in the wake of his loss, unable to accept the fact that she's simply gone. His family tries to help him cope, but he's crushed under the weight of knowing nothing will ever be the same again.
As he begins to navigate his grief, he starts seeing things. Or rather, seeing her. It's nothing more than quick glimpses at first, but it slowly grows into something more.
Is he losing his grasp on reality, or is something much stranger going on?
Warnings: blood, death, grief
Word count: 4.1 k
i hope you enjoy!
read on ao3!
or fic starts under the cut!
Andrew had blood on his hands, and it wasn’t his.
He had come home to find the living room trashed, broken glass scattered on the floor and the coffee table laying on its side with a leg snapped off. His initial instinct once he understood that something bad must have happened was to call out for his wife.
"Savannah?" he asked cautiously into the unsettling quiet of the house. He listened intently for a moment, hoping for any indication of her presence. He stepped further into the room, eyes scanning. He called her name again, more urgent this time. "Savannah?!"
A soft, muffled sound that he almost missed came in reply.
He rounded the couch, finding her on her back, eyes struggling to stay open. There was nothing that could have prepared him for the sight of her so vulnerable, looking like she was hanging on by a thread.
He looked desperately down at the form of his wife where he had her cradled in his arms, quietly willing her to hold on. Tentatively, he removed one hand from its place on her side, fumbling in the pocket of his jeans for his phone. His hand trembled as he navigated to the phone app, small streaks of red smearing the screen as he dialed the simple three-digit number. He tapped the speaker phone icon shakily, setting the device on the ground next to where he was kneeling, before returning his arm to its spot around her torso. The ringing was loud in his ears, and he barely registered the operator on the other line asking what the emergency was.
“My wife,” he started, swallowing around the lump that formed in his throat upon trying to express the situation verbally. “I don’t know what happened, exactly, but there’s so much blood... I – she needs an ambulance.”
“Is she breathing?”
The question threw him off guard more than it should have. He watched her chest for a moment, terrified of the worst, when he saw the subtle rise and fall.
“Sir?”
“Yeah, yes, she’s breathing,” he stammered awkwardly.
The next few minutes were spent rattling off personal information that he knew by heart – address, her name, age. He focused his energy on the task at hand as much as he could in a vague attempt not to let his mind drift to the enormity of the situation. He couldn’t allow himself to panic yet. Once the worst was over, once he knew she was going to be alright, then the full intensity of his emotions could hit him.
Andrew trained his eyes on her face, carefully monitoring any hint of a change in her condition. “Savannah,” he breathed softly. “C’mon, darling. I just need you to stay with me a little bit longer, okay?”
Her head moved ever so slightly, a feeble attempt to acknowledge his presence. Her lips parted, only to release a faint groaning sound that appeared to sap any molecule of energy she had left. She tried to form his name, but her body betrayed her best efforts.
He recognized her struggle to communicate, shushing her gently. “It’s alright, my love,” he murmured into her hair. “You don’t have to talk right now; I’m here. I’ve got you. Just – hang on for me.”
It felt like hours before he finally heard the sirens approaching. Lights beamed through the windows, and the next thing he knew, a team of paramedics were bursting through his front door. Everything happened quickly after that; they moved him aside to have better access to Savannah and inquired about her current state. Andrew simply looked on from a slight distance while they worked, pulling medical supplies out of their bags that he didn’t think he could even name. He wanted to ask what they were doing at every new step, but his questions died in his throat. It felt surreal to watch them work, like this was some horrible nightmare that he would soon wake up from.
Things became a blur the longer he stood and stared. He barely even registered the sounds of footsteps and shuffling around him, let alone when someone would direct their attention towards him. It seemed like everything was moving in slow motion, despite happening too quickly for his brain to process. He was dissociating for sure, but what else could he do in these conditions? Any time he tried to stay present in the moment, his mind yanked him away from awareness of reality.
In a brief second of clarity, Andrew managed to stumble out a question. “Is she going to be okay?”
The paramedics exchanged nervous glances with one another before assuring him that they were doing everything they could.
It was at that moment that Andrew became aware of the oxygen mask covering Savannah’s face. From what he could tell, they had bandaged what wounds they could as well. As they moved her to a stretcher to carry her out to the ambulance, he noticed for the first time just how pale she looked.
He followed them outside, watching as they loaded her in.
—
The hospital was somehow the worst part. Andrew was pacing the waiting room, having given up on trying to sit still after about ten minutes. Now that he was here, he was acutely aware of the levels of nervous energy he possessed. He tried to read the signs on the walls, analyze the colors of the seats, anything to keep his mind occupied, but he simply couldn’t focus on the environment around him. Being alone certainly didn’t help him in any capacity either. His mind became consumed with an endless list of “what ifs” that only grew worse in nature with each passing minute. As time dragged, he briefly considered calling someone to come keep him company, but couldn’t quite bring himself to reach for his phone. He wanted the comfort and reassurance of his parents, but he wasn’t sure he could put this on them.
Andrew debated himself on this for a while, unsure of the right move. He was quickly becoming too much of an anxious mess to do much of anything, so in a momentary flash of bravery he called his mother.
“Andy?” Raine’s voice answered, sounding a bit confused. “It’s late; is everything okay?”
He cringed at himself, not having bothered to check the time before calling. He pulled the phone away from his ear for a second, curiosity inching its way in. 4:47 am.
“Sorry, didn’t realize -”
“Honey, what’s going on?” she interrupted his apology, sensing that he hadn’t rung her by mistake.
“I...” he started, tears stinging his eyes with the threat of falling almost immediately. Words seemed to fail him now as he scrambled for an explanation. “I’m at the hospital,” he choked out.
“What? Andy, what happened; are you alright?”
He didn’t know how to answer that concisely.
“I’m fine, physically at least.” His voice began to waver. “It’s Savannah; she...”
She what, exactly? He thought. He was suddenly very attuned to the fact that he didn’t know how to explain this. So many words died on his tongue – she's hurt, she was attacked, she was dying. None of them felt capable of encapsulating the situation. He settled for, “she’s not doing well,” though he knew that was the understatement of the year.
“Oh, dear. What happened?”
“I don’t know,” he sobbed, the dam finally breaking. “I got home and I found her on the ground and she didn’t look good and god, she might be dying...”
“Andrew, breathe.”
He was trying, but his efforts seemed useless. So much for pushing this down until everything was over.
“I’m on my way over there now. Just sit tight, honey.”
His mother’s reassuring words only made the tears fall faster.
By the time she arrived, Andrew was sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest, his back resting against the edge of the seat. It took him a second to register her presence, jumping at the sudden feeling of a hand on his shoulder.
“Just me, dear,” she hummed softly, taking in the sight of her son’s tear-stained face as he looked up at her.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, “just startled me.”
“Nothing to be sorry for,” she assured him, sitting beside him and tucking a strand of loose hair behind his ear.
Andrew trained his gaze on the far side of the room, as if staring at the wall would magically solve anything.
“Love, what’s going on?”
The question he was dreading. He knew his explanation on the phone earlier wasn’t the most coherent, but his thoughts were jumbled. He clawed for some semblance of a comprehensible account of what happened, but his brain felt like a tangled collection of brief flashes of memory.
“I... I don’t know,” he cried in frustration. “It’s like I said before; she – she was on the floor when I got home,” he tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. "I - there was so much blood, mam."
Raine nodded sadly, letting both of them sit in the uncomfortable silence for a while.
Much to both of their surprise, it was Andrew who spoke first.
"I'm so scared," he admitted weakly, rubbing the palm of his left hand between the fingers of his right.
"Savannah is going to be fine, Andy."
"But you don't really know that, do you?" He challenged, mentally cursing himself for snapping at his mother this way. "Y - you can't know that!"
"She's a fighter, honey. Always has been," she replied, heaving a soft sigh. "You should know that better than anyone."
"I - I know," he conceded. "It's just that -" he shook his head, wiping the tears that had started again from his face. "You weren't there; it was a sight I genuinely wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy."
"Andy…"
"I've never seen her look so fragile, so… weak." The word tasted wrong in his mouth. 'Weak' was not a word he would have ever in a million years thought to describe Savannah. But was that not how she seemed? He didn't mean it negatively; deep in his heart he knew she would never go down without a fight. He was just remembering being scared to move her any more than he had for fear that it would break her.
"Have there been any updates since you got here?" Raine asked hopefully.
He shook his head in reply, refusing to meet her eye. "I keep hoping — or honestly, dreading —every time I hear someone walk by, but… nothing. Fuck, I don't even know what they're doing to her in there."
"I know things are scary right now, love, but I'm sure the doctors are doing their best."
"Yeah," was all he could manage to respond, slowly becoming very aware of his exhaustion.
He leaned his head on his mother's shoulder, suddenly wishing he could curl up in her lap the way he had as a small child.
"Mam?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Thank you for coming." His voice sounded small in his ears.
"Of course; you're still my child, Andrew. I'm always going to be here when you need me."
He sniffled a bit at that, appreciating the inherent comfort of her presence more than ever.
Time seemed to move of its own accord, dragging and then passing quickly. Shockingly, Andrew managed to get some, albeit broken, sleep. He drifted in and out of consciousness dreamlessly, occasionally shifting his position slightly.
When he woke more fully, trying to stretch the knots out of his neck, he still only had one thing on his mind.
"They haven't said anything yet?"
"Nothing, love. Sorry."
He nodded silently, too tired to complain again.
"Have you eaten anything? I can go find some coffee and breakfast," she hummed, running a hand through his hair.
"Don't think I can stomach anything," he mumbled.
"You should at least try."
"No, thank you," he responded a bit more harshly than he'd intended.
She knew better than to push him right now, figuring she would try again later.
In his fruitless attempts to zone out, Andrew felt incapable of moving. He was aware of how uncomfortable the tiled floor had become beneath him, but couldn't find the motivation within himself to get up.
He took to staring at the door, willing it to open.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally got his wish. The door creaked open, a doctor stepping through. "Mr. Hozier-Byrne?"
Andrew scrambled to his feet, sticking out his hand to shake. "Andrew," he introduced himself sheepishly.
"Nice to meet you, Andrew. I'm Dr. Collins," she replied, gripping his hand firmly. "Your wife is Savannah, correct?" She confirmed, looking over the clipboard in her hand.
"Yeah, um, yes," he stammered, clearing his throat.
"Why don't you have a seat?" she offered, gesturing to the empty room.
Andrew obliged, suddenly worried his heart was going to beat itself right out of his chest. Did she always approach talking to patients' families like this, or was there a reason she'd asked him to sit? The implications made it hard to focus.
"Is… is she…?" he asked uselessly.
Dr. Collins took a beat, her face not betraying any indication of an obvious answer.
"As I'm sure you know, our team had to perform emergency surgery," she started.
Andrew nodded solemnly, waiting anxiously for her to continue. He didn't want to needlessly interject, but the suspense was suffocating. His nails dug into his palms in an attempt at impulse control.
"We used every resource available to us," Dr. Collins continued. "It was a very risky procedure; we were pretty uncertain for a while there."
"But… she's… she's okay?" He asked, no longer bothering to hide the worry in his voice. "Or at least… she will be?"
"Andrew, there's no way to sugarcoat this." She replied apologetically.
No, he thought. No.
"I'm so sorry, but your wife didn't make it. We did everything we could."
His ears were ringing, unable to hear anything else said by the doctor or his mother, as his world spun out of control in front of his very eyes. His vision went fuzzy, a result of both the tears brewing and the impact of hearing those words. Surely there must have been some mistake — he had misheard, or they somehow had the wrong person. It had to be a fucked up cosmic prank. He couldn't accept this as his reality.
The walls seemed to be closing in on him as he struggled to get enough air in his lungs.
"Andy?" Raine called out cautiously.
"I can't breathe," he gasped.
Seconds later, a hand was firmly on his back. He caught fragments of speech as he struggled to concentrate. He was fairly certain someone was calling his name, though it sounded distant.
Slowly, the words started to make sense. He was being told to focus, to breathe. He tried, but it was like his body had forgotten its most basic functions.
"You're okay; take it slow." Dr. Collins' voice finally broke through to him. "Through your nose," she instructed, as if she could sense Andrew's internal dissonance.
He repeated the steps several times — inhaling slowly through his nose, holding it for a few seconds, releasing it. He blinked at his surroundings as he came back into awareness as if seeing them for the first time.
Raine was handing him a plastic cup of water, and he found himself wondering when she had moved, how long she'd been standing there. He accepted it graciously, taking a long sip of the cool liquid.
"You alright, honey?"
"No," he snorted despite his damp eyes. The question felt almost ridiculous now. Obviously, he wasn't okay.
"I'm going to leave you two some space," Dr. Collins decided, getting up. "I truly am deeply sorry for your loss."
"And then there were two," Andrew muttered humorlessly, his own words striking him much harder than he had thought. He paused thoughtfully before timidly asking, "What now?"
"I don't know, dear. A lot," Raine answered.
He nodded, understanding now just how unprecedented this situation was. It hadn't even occurred to him how many little details he'd have to figure out. He wasn't prepared for any of this.
"I'm tired," he mumbled.
"Let's go home," she suggested softly.
Andrew was pensive for a moment before full realization dawned on him. "My house is a crime scene." He looked at Raine desperately, as though she could magically reverse the day's events.
"I know," she heaved a sigh. "You can stay with us until things get sorted."
—
It was odd being back under his parents' roof, especially given the circumstances. The environment that was normally a place of joy was now tainted. He lingered in the entryway a moment, allowing himself to emotionally prepare for the journey further into the house.
He found his mother, who'd walked in ahead of him, in the kitchen where she was watching a teapot.
"Andrew, please sit down. You're stressing me out, just standing there," she remarked without even sparing him a glance.
He mumbled an apology, taking a seat at the table. His fingers drummed nervously against the wood, not knowing what to do with himself. He stared down at his feet until he heard the sound of Raine setting a cup down in front of him.
"Thanks," he murmured with a sad smile, finally forcing himself to look up.
She took a seat next to him, setting down her own cup of tea.
Andrew tentatively took a sip of the beverage, wincing slightly as it burned his tongue.
Raine eyed him uncertainly, studying the features on his face. He'd been through something unimaginable today, and her heart shattered for him. She normally prided herself on giving advice, but she now found herself speechless. No amount of parenting experience could have prepared her for navigating her son's grief. She also knew Andrew and thus knew he wouldn't want to hear it right now.
The two sat in heavy silence, taking turns sipping their tea.
"Gonna shower," Andrew mumbled tiredly, finishing the last dregs in his cup before excusing himself from the table.
Slowly, he made his way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He heaved a sigh, leaning against the back of the door as he tried to collect himself. His limbs felt heavy, making crossing the short distance to the bathtub seem a Herculean task.
He eventually grabbed the shower handle, twisting it until it was on the hottest setting. It was easily still another three minutes before he began undressing.
After removing his clothing, he stood before the stream, working up the strength to step in.
The scorching water burned his skin, no doubt going to result in him being red for a while. But he couldn't be bothered to care.
He stood under the shower head with his arms crossed over his chest for an indeterminate length of time until he felt courageous enough to move. He tipped his head back, allowing his hair to get soaked.
Against his wishes, images kept flashing in his mind. First it was Savannah lying there, unmoving. A fresh wave of anxiety coursed through him at the memory.
That was quickly followed by the thought of his house being filled with a bunch of strangers. Ones who were doing their best to help, but still. He didn't think he could forget the way they rushed around, shouting to one another in urgent tones.
And he couldn't seem to stop replaying his conversation with the doctor on loop. He was still in such a state of disbelief over hearing that news.
"I'm so sorry, but your wife didn't make it."
Christ, how was this his life? In a matter of hours, everything had irreversibly changed for the worse. The woman he loved was gone, forever. He'd never truly considered the weight of that word before. This wasn't a temporary change, something he could decide he didn't want to deal with anymore. Savannah was gone, and she was never coming back.
Still, he kept replaying the scenes in his mind as if he could find an inconsistency — some error that would allow him to magically alter the outcome.
It's all your fault, his inner monologue taunted.
He gasped sharply, the thought stubbornly refusing to leave. It was his fault; if he had just arrived home sooner — better yet, if he'd never gone out at all — he could've prevented this. He could've protected her. He'd failed as a partner, not being there at the moment she needed him most.
Andrew lowered himself to the floor of the tub, all the strength to hold himself upright knocked out of him.
He wasn't sure how long he remained in the shower, but he felt like no amount of hygiene could cleanse him of this.
After finally winning the battle of forcing himself up to reach for the soap, he rinsed the suds off and shut off the water. He blindly reached for his towel, drying off his arms and legs before wrapping it around his waist. He changed into a spare set of clothes that he must have left here on his last visit, grateful for the unintentional preparedness of his past self.
Timidly, he padded downstairs to living room where both his parents sat talking in hushed voices. Without making out a single word, he knew they were talking about him. He quietly sunk into the couch, having no desire to make his presence blatantly known. Yet they noticed anyway.
His parents exchanged nervous glances, as if daring each other to speak first.
Taking a breath, John offered an "I'm sorry, son." He had an apologetic look on his face that Andrew didn't know how to react to.
Never in a million years could any of them have predicted this situation.
"I assume she filled you in," Andrew said, tilting his chin up in their direction.
John nodded, and Andrew took a labored breath.
"This is all my fault."
"Andrew, you couldn't have known -" John tried to counter.
"If I had just been there, I could've -"
"You could have very well gotten yourself in the same position as her," Raine interjected. "And then where would we be?" When Andrew's only response was a defeated, choked sound, she continued. "You didn't know this would happen, and you did everything you could to help her."
"Whole lot of good that did," he muttered under his breath.
"You got her medical attention as quickly as you could," Raine stressed.
"I should've done more."
"There's nothing more you could have done," John said matter-of-factly.
"I should have been there," Andrew maintained stubbornly.
"Love, you don't know that being there would have changed anything," Raine sighed.
"You don't know that it wouldn't have." He knew this argument wasn't productive, but he was in too deep to back down now.
"You could have gotten yourself hurt," Raine emphasized again in hopes of getting him to give up on this pattern of thinking, at least for the time being.
"Well maybe it should've been me!" He was shocked at his own words, or rather that he had said them out loud.
"Andrew John Hozier-Byrne!" she gasped in surprise.
He cringed at the use of his full name, guilt immediately setting in as he looked at his parents' hurt faces. "I'm sorry."
He kept repeating the apology, hating how much he had upset them.
"Andrew," John's voice cut through the blubbering. "Andrew, it's alright."
Andrew sniffled in reply.
His parents shushed him, attempting to calm him down and comfort him. Neither of them possessed the words to make this better. They decided to let him cry for a while until he had exhausted his tears.
Eventually, Raine spoke up again. "Why don't I make you something to eat?"
"Not hungry."
"Andy, you haven't eaten a thing all day."
"Not hungry," he repeated, shrugging. "I actually… I think I'm going to go to bed."
Raine was about to stop him as he stood up from the couch, but John shook his head.
"Just leave him be."
She sighed, leaning into him. He was right, of course. "I'm really worried about him."
"I am too," John admitted, reaching for his wife's hand. "But you know Andy; I think he just needs some space to process all this."
Meanwhile, Andrew laid awake, staring at the ceiling. He had never felt so utterly exhausted in his life, yet sleep seemed lightyears away.
Sleep claimed him eventually, filling his head with further images of his wife.
The next days continued in a quiet sort of routine, his parents making conversation while trying not to crowd him. He barely spoke, often retreating into his mind. It was the worst learning curve he'd ever had to suffer through.
Chapter 6: ‘The odor of acid and the little, pitiless tragedy of being imagined’
Hi, everyone! Sorry for the small delay for posting this chapter… I forgot to add the post to the queue… Anyway, enjoy!
I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!
****
Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU), Sequel to Love in Verses, dadzier.
Warnings: fluff (a disgusting amount), angst for secondary characters, smut so 18+ only There are no warnings concerning the pregnancy (no infertility issues, no miscarriage, only tooth-rotting fluff)
Summary: Your life is perfect. You're married to the love of your life, your career is thriving as you work at Trinity College, in Dublin. You've settled down with your husband, and it seems that life is perfect these days. And yet, there's a tugging at your heart whenever you see baby clothes, a longing for something more. What if you wanted to be a mother? Are you ready to let this new joy enter your life?
Word Count: 2458
Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist
A Woman Without a Country
As dawn breaks he enters
A room with the odor of acid.
He lays the copper plate on the table.
And reaches for the shaft of the burin.
Dublin wakes to horses and rain.
Street hawkers call.
All the news is famine and famine.
The flat graver, the round graver,
The angle tint tool wait for him.
He bends to his work and begins.
He starts with the head, cutting in
To the line of the cheek, finding
The slope of the skull, incising
The shape of a face that becomes
A foundry of shadows, rendering —
With a deeper cut into copper —
The whole woman as a skeleton,
The rags of her skirt, her wrist
In a bony line forever
severing
Her body from its native air until
She is ready for the page,
For the street vendor, for
A new inventory which now
To loss and to laissez-faire adds
The odor of acid and the little,
Pitiless tragedy of being imagined.
He puts his tools away,
One by one; lays them out carefully
On the deal table, his work done.
Eavan Boland, A Woman Without a Country
Andrew had no fucking clue which hospital had the best maternity yard.
As a matter of fact, he had now discovered that there were public and private maternity services in the same bloody buildings!
He had to check with your health insurances what was covered in case of a pregnancy…
Your chuckle pulled him out of his thoughts.
He turned to you to find you smiling mischievously at him. You were still in your pyjamas but had stolen one of his warm jumpers as November was particularly cold this year. You didn’t intend to get dressed today, your hair still messy, but he didn’t mind. On the contrary, he loved the domesticity of it. Besides, he had no plans on getting dressed today either. Lounging around at home with you sounded like an excellent plan for a rainy Sunday morning.
Besides, he had more pressing matters at hand.
“Honey… you don’t have to get obsessed with this… just take your time to think.”
“I am taking my time to think,” he replied. “I just… need all the information.”
You laughed more brightly this time, unrestrained.
“Wow… spoken like a true academic…”
“Oh, shut up!” he laughed, holding out his hand for you.
And you took it. You took it every time, without any hesitation. He was still a little stunned by it sometimes.
He put his laptop away on the coffee table before him, sitting straighter on the sofa so that you could straddle his laps and wrap your arms around his neck.
“Stop overthinking,” you gently admonished, your hand sliding delicately from the back of his neck to his jaw, and then his cheek. “I haven’t asked you what the best maternity is. I’ve asked you if you want to have a baby.”
“I need…”
“You need to decide what you want. And once you’ve decided, we can look for a clinic. We can take an appointment with my OB-GYN. We can start planning. We can decide when we want to have this baby. But first, you need to decide what you want.”
He let out a long, painful breath. It wasn’t so easy… he was so fucking scared…
Everything was perfect, what if having a baby ruined it all? What if something happened to you? What if something went wrong with the baby? What if…?
You ran your fingers through his hair, leaned closer to kiss him, and the whole world disappeared…
His brain short-circuited completely under your lips, your fingers in his hair, your weight over his body, your warmth under his palms… You always made his brain do that. Go quiet. Even when he spiralled, you were there to ground him.
When you pulled away, both of you breathless and lips reddened by your kisses, you tenderly held his face in your palms. When he blinked his eyes open, it was to get lost in the hues of your irises.
“I love you more than anything in this world,” you whispered, a breath away from him. “Nothing is ever going to change that. I don’t want to put pressure on you, love. If you’re not ready, if you don’t want to have a child at all… It doesn’t matter. It will not change the love I have for you, and I will still be happy, because I’ll have you. I just want to know what you want, that’s all. Even if you say that you do want to be a da… it won’t mean that I’ll get pregnant tomorrow! We have time to ask ourselves all these questions. But first, we need to decide whether or not we want to have children. Okay?”
Slowly, Andrew nodded.
“Okay…”
You held him closer, snuggling against him, your face buried in his neck. He smiled as you held him tight, he held you just as tightly.
“My little koala bear…” he chuckled, making you laugh too, but you didn’t loosen your hold.
“What if we stayed home today?” you offered. “It’s raining anyway. We could watch a movie, or read…”
“Sounds nice, my love.”
Only, Andrew didn’t get to stay home, in the warmth of your embrace, with your mouth peppering kisses over his neck and jaw now and then. He couldn’t remain in this heavenly position all day.
Instead, Elwood decided that it was more than time for him to have a second walk today, and so he sat down right in front of the sofa, staring at both of you, expectant. And when staring was proved not to be enough, he barked once, then twice. And when this was still not enough, he started crying, touching Andrew’s leg with his paw.
“Oh… he chose you!” you teased, playfully biting Andrew’s neck, making him squirm as he laughed.
“Of course! You’re out of his reach!”
“He could totally reach me!”
“But why would he reach for you while you’re seated on the sofa and my legs are much closer to the ground?”
“He still chose you, you’re the one taking him for a walk in this weather. I’m staying here.”
He huffed, feigning annoyance.
“You know… if we have a baby… we’d better share the annoying duties better than this…”
He felt you grinning against his skin.
“Well… if we have a baby… it means I’ll have pushed a human being out of my vagina, after carrying it for nine months. So, you’d better not complain about changing diapers!”
You both laughed, hard and bright and disgustingly happy.
“Fair enough…” he kept on chuckling, holding you even tighter than before, as he breathed deeply the faint scent of your shampoo. “Fair enough…”
H-B was distracted.
It was strange to see her professor fumbling with his words, and checking some notes on his desk every now and then. In her five years of university, having a class with one of her favourite teachers every year, sometimes every semester… Saoirse had never seen him quite so out of it. By her side, even Sean seemed to have noticed, and was frowning at his professor.
Sean… he was still by her side, after navigating university together. They had come a long way, she reckoned. From that first meeting, trying to log in on the university website to choose their classes. The long afternoons studying at the library, the evenings spent writing essays, reading, and then chatting more and more. Playing cards in his tiny student room, watching a movie on her laptop in her even tinier bedroom. Their first kiss, their first date, that first summer apart when it felt like she couldn’t breathe sometimes with how much she missed him. And that morning when they had found each other again, how nervous she had been, because maybe she had caught feelings too quickly and loved him a little too much… but he was the one sprinting across St Stephen’s Green to reach her, almost knocking her to the ground when he held her close.
Five years later, and she couldn’t picture her life without him in it.
He seemed to feel her stare upon him, gave her a smile, before focusing on H-B again.
H-B… what could make him so nervous? Strange…
Maybe it was because of you? What a power couple the two of you made, Saoirse smiled at the thought, almost audibly laughed at the memory of these afternoons she had spent with a few classmates trying to guess if you and H-B were together for real. And now you were married!
She wondered how you did it. How you took the decision to say yes, to spend your entire life with one person, or… rather, to be certain that no matter what, you would still be together in the end. These days, Saoirse asked herself a lot of questions of that kind. What would she do with her future? What would her life be like? Sometimes, when she talked with Sean, she wasn’t certain how their lives could keep aligning after university.
Sean wanted to work in publishing, he had chosen classes that would prepare him for this industry and he had gotten a couple of internships already. They had some classes still in common, but their studies had diverted a couple of years ago. Meanwhile, Saoirse remained focused on text analysis, on the history of literature and linguistics. When Sean had started learning about markets and investments, she was picking up Gaeilge again and learning about female empowerment in the 19th century.
They hadn’t talked about next year yet. About what would happen after Trinity. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do with her life, and he had a clear purpose to reach. If he had to move away, if she had to move away… would they still be together?
She jumped when something fell on the ground with a thud, focused on the classroom again. It was H-B, who had dropped his copy of A Woman Without a Country.
“Sorry…” he had a nervous laugh, paused, looked up at his students again. “I’m so out of it today…”
He ran a hand through his long curls, his glasses a little lopsided on his nose, before he straightened them.
“Insomnia isn’t fun sometimes,” he elusively explained, before rubbing at his eyes and focusing on the poem he was talking about again.
Once the class was over, Saoirse packed her things and checked that she had everything she would need for her meeting with you. She was working on feminist essays during the Irish Revolution for her memoir, and you were the obvious choice of referee to help her navigate the subject. Your bi-monthly meeting was in ten minutes, just enough time for Saoirse to grab a very strong coffee – sadly scientists had not yet invented a way to safely inject caffeine directly into the bloodstream – and head to your office.
Sean heaved a tired sigh.
“I’ll see you at lunch?” he asked, as he was heading to a different building for his next class, something to do with business and market shares that Saoirse didn’t understand anything about.
“Sure!”
It was barely half-past nine, they wouldn’t meet up before 1pm… why did it feel like forever? It was merely a few hours…
He seemed to read right through her, gave her a teasing smile.
“I’ll miss you too.”
“Oh, shut up!” she protested, but still leaned closer to kiss him.
She waved him off as Sean headed to the glass door, and forced herself to look away and head to her own meeting.
What would they become after university?
She walked through the corridors lost in her own thought, she knew the building well enough to walk to your office with her eyes closed anyway. The old wood and stones and the concrete added to the extended part of the building. She only focused on the present again once she was in front of your office, the door wide open and happy voices pouring out of the room and seeping in the cold corridor.
“I’m so happy for you, my love,” H-B’s voice came out, a little quietened.
“I can’t believe I’ve been selected! This is like… the most important seminar in my field… like… wow… This is so big for my career…”
“And you have two sessions, love!”
“TWO!”
“I’m so proud of you!”
Saoirse didn’t mean to interrupt the two of you, so she hesitated on the doorstep, peering into the room.
You were standing together, locked in an embrace that seemed both tight and comforting. Your eyes closed, you were snuggled into Andrew’s chest, holding tight, your fists pulling on his shirt.
“I have so much work to do…”
“It’s in May! You have time to get ready.”
“I’m going to go to fucking Harvard!”
“I know! Christ…”
He heaved a sigh.
“I miss you already. Two weeks is too long to be parted from you.”
Saoirse’s heart sank, his words echoing too much with her own fears.
“I’ll call every day.”
“Like you have a choice to not call every day…”
You chuckled, held him even tighter.
“I wish you could come with me.”
“I’m afraid I’m a little too tall to fit into your suitcase…”
“I’m sure if you pick up yoga or some shit like that, you can become bendable enough…”
“Don’t turn me into a pretzel.”
“What about a sexy pretzel?”
He hummed, and you opened one eye to throw him a glance.
“Are you falling asleep on me?” you asked, making him chuckle.
“A little bit. You’re warm and soothing.”
“Well… that’s nice, but I can’t carry you…”
He laughed then, and Saoirse suddenly realised that she had been kind of spying on her favourite professors, definitely watching a scene that she wasn’t meant to see…
… but then again, the door was open, so…
She took a step back, knocked on the door, waited for a moment. But no answer came. She heard your muffled voice.
“It’s Saoirse. We have a meeting.”
“Don’t care. Not moving.”
“How unprofessional.”
“Now, now… I can show you unprofessional if you want…”
You giggled, and Saoirse hesitated to simply turn around and come back later when she clearly heard you kissing.
But then, total silence.
“Oh my God…”
And the next second, H-B was standing before Saoirse on the doorstep, blushing so red she thought he was having a stroke.
“I’m so sorry… I thought the door was closed…” he apologised in a breath.
Saoirse laughed.
“It’s alright, professor.”
“I’m sorry…”
But you appeared behind him, and rolled your eyes.
“Come in, Saoirse. Andy’s off to his next class, anyway.”
He cleared his throat.
“Yep, going now…”
Saoirse couldn’t refrain another laugh as he fumbled with a pile of papers on his desk, looking for a document, or simply avoiding her gaze.
“There’s no need to be so uncomfortable, everyone knows you’re married,” Saoirse told him, and you nodded.
“Argh… don’t worry about him, he’ll get over it. He’s just shy. And not big on PDA.”
Andrew’s neck took a bright shade of red as well.
“I think she’s old enough to know about the birds and the bees, honey,” you teased him, making him glower at you.
“I’m leaving,” he stated.
“I love you!” you chirped while he crossed the room.
He paused before the door.
“I love you too,” he breathed, before hurrying into the corridor.
You giggled happily, moved to close the door behind him.
“Please, sit down, Saoirse. And sorry again for that little scene.”
“It’s alright. I am old enough to know about the birds and the bees…”
You laughed, before focusing on her work. Although, now it was Saoirse who was a little unfocused.
Would Sean and her still love each other so much in a year? Or in a lifetime?
Hi, everyone!!! Here it is at long last! It took me a while to write this sequel, but it’s finally done! We’re picking up where we’ve left off, with our favourite professors happily married and ready for some new adventures! I can’t wait to have your feedback, and to share this work with you! I’ll post a new chapter every Monday and Friday :)
I hope you like this series! Tell me what you think!
****
Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU), Sequel to Love in Verses, dadzier.
Warnings: fluff (a disgusting amount), angst for secondary characters, smut so 18+ only. There are no warnings concerning the pregnancy (no infertility issues, no miscarriage, only tooth-rotting fluff)
Summary: Your life is perfect. You're married to the love of your life, your career is thriving as you work at Trinity College, in Dublin. You've settled down with your husband, and it seems that life is perfect these days. And yet, there's a tugging at your heart whenever you see baby clothes, a longing for something more. What if you wanted to be a mother? Are you ready to let this new joy enter your life?
Word Count: 1819
Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist
The Orange
At lunchtime I bought a huge orange—
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave—
They got quarters and I had a half.
And that orange, it made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.
This is peace and contentment. It’s new.
The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all the jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
I love you. I’m glad I exist.
Wendy Cope, The Orange and Other Poems, 2023
There was sunshine upon the Liffey that morning. A scent of new beginnings in the air, a whisk of excitement in the breeze.
Saoirse took a deep breath before entering the college grounds. Her last year here, at Trinity College, she could barely believe it. How much of her life had changed, how much she had grown as a person, the people she had met.
Talking about people…
“Hey, baby!”
Sean beamed at her like she was the sun to his moon, the brightest star of them all, or perhaps even an entire galaxy. That would be plausible with how much his eyes shone.
The worst part was that she knew she felt the same, still strong after years spent together. If she leant into her feelings, the words soulmate shaped around his name. She couldn’t handle that though, she was too young for this kind of thoughts. They both were. Still, the second he took her hand and kissed her, it was obvious, that they were made for each other.
“So… ready for our last year here? Can’t believe it…”
“Me neither, time flies…”
There were known faces all around though, and from afar she spotted a couple she knew well by now. Not friends, but mentors, definitely…
She smiled as she saw you and your husband passing by, a cup of coffee in your hands as you headed towards the English department, walking under the cursed bell at the centre of the square, but why wouldn’t you? The curse only stroke students during their finals, you had long-passed that stage of your lives. Now, walking hand in hand, sipping on your coffees and chatting happily, you were heading towards your office, probably, the one you had been sharing for years. Then, you’d probably work on your research, and later on teach a class. Saoirse needed to check her timetable. She systematically chose yours and Andrew’s classes. The best out there…
What was your life like? Sometimes Saoirse wondered, imagining herself in your shoes. A professor, in a big university, finding love in your colleague… fighting for women, studying and protecting their voices. Yeah… that sounded kind of neat…
Sean held her hand in his, walking across the square. Like Andrew held your hand. Were you as happy with your husband as she was with Sean? With this boy that had turned into a full man with her by his side, gentle and caring and with so much love to give. Maybe he’d hold her hand too if she crossed the square one day, heading to teach a class…
What was your life like now that you were married? Were you happy, or… Saoirse should ask herself: were you as happy as you seemed to be? Could she be as happy one day?
Yeah, the future held many promises, and today they were all sweet and generous, like ripe plumps warmed by the sun…
Andrew had already left when you were finally done with work and could go home. Tuesdays were your least favourite day of the week. You had classes in the morning, and Andrew was teaching all afternoon… if you could catch a moment together for twenty minutes over lunch, it was a miracle. You hurried to shut down your laptop, grab your things and aim for the door. While you hurried across the building, you read a text from Andrew.
Forgot to buy parmesan cheese and some red wine for tonight. Can you make a stop to Dunnes on your way home?
You heaved a sigh, every fibre of your body begging you to say ‘no’ and to go straight home, too bad for the cheese and the wine. But instead, you sent Andrew a thumbs up, and aimed your steps towards the exit leading to Nassau Street. It was easier to go to the Dunnes next to Stephen’s Green than to drive to the nearest town once you were almost home. It was but five minutes away, after all…
You hurried across the busy street, not stopping at the red light and instead hurrying to win your race against the incoming bus.
After your short detour to buy cheese and wine, you traced back your steps to pick up your car. You wondered what Andrew would be cooking tonight. Parmesan cheese and red wine… probably one of his pasta dishes… your stomach made a hungry grumble at the thought. These were always delicious…
You were lost in thought while you hurried down Dawson Street, slaloming between strangers, and yet a splash of colours caught your eyes. You slowed your footsteps as you passed before a flower shop, couldn’t refrain a smile as you looked at the delicate petals, smelled their sweet scent…
But the sunflowers, more than any other flower, caught your eyes. They weren’t that big, but their petals were a warm shade of yellow, their heart as brown as the earth after the rain. You didn’t really know why they made you think of your husband, but they did. Bright, radiant, earthy… yeah, that looked a lot like him…
You checked the price, heaved a sigh as you could feel your will caving in already. These were so gorgeous, and they would be so pretty in your living room…
You bought four of them, made a bouquet out of them with white daisies and pink dahlias. A messy bunch that smelled divine and cried to you about sunshine and life. A bright one… You rolled your eyes at your own sappy thoughts when you told yourself that it was as bright as your life these days.
You hurried out of the shop again, and were about to walk to your car, so you could finally go home, and yet your footsteps slowed again just a couple of metres further down the busy street. It was as loud as usual; near the park, a musician was singing Valery, barely audible above the humming of distant cars and the flow of conversations gliding down the lane. The rush quietened though, as your eyes lingered on tiny dresses, small jumpers, pastel-coloured tees…
You smiled fondly at the baby clothes exposed in the store front. The fabrics seemed soft and comfy. You couldn’t help but imagine a little girl wearing that blue dress, or that pair of red corduroy pants. Or a little boy, maybe, wearing that blue tee with a whale on it. Both of these imaginary children had Andrew’s eyes and hair…
You took in a deep breath, pushing away the thought that formed as you started walking again, your steps hurried, but instead of longing for a destination, your pace was one of an escape now.
Your heart quickened, but the sudden rush of fear was not caused by the surprise that this kind of thoughts should have produced in your system. In reality, you had already pictured these little children… around the house, in your garden, at Andrew’s parents, in the park… You pictured them more and more these days.
What did it mean? And more importantly… Could you tell Andrew about it?
When you came home, you almost dropped all the things you had to carry. From your backpack that was sliding down your shoulder, the small bag with the cheese and wine, your flowers, your keys…
You managed to take off your shoes and hurried to the kitchen to drop your cargo safely on the countertop.
“Love! I’m home!” you called, your voice ringing through the house.
Padded steps hurried down the hall, but it wasn’t Andrew. You turned to welcome your dog first, as Elwood sprinted towards you, his tail moving at a surprising speed while he excitedly made little jumps around you.
“Hello, my boy! How are you?”
You greeted him with scratches, cooed about how much of a good boy he was. You saw socked feet stopping near the door. A low chuckle filled the room, made your heart warm and erratic.
“Well… hello, my love.”
You looked up, to find your husband grinning down at you, a softness you knew all too well in his gaze. He looked tired, a bit of red in his eyes behind his glasses, a little frown, a messy bun. He had already changed into comfortable clothes, his old Thin Lizzy t-shirt and a green pair of sweatpants. You couldn’t help the tidal wave of fondness that overcame your senses at the sight. He looked warm, soft, domestic… himself…
He tilted his head a little, leaning back against the doorframe and crossing his arms before his chest.
“So… Elwood gets all the love, and I don’t even get a hello?”
You laughed, rolling your eyes at him while you stood straighter again.
“Well… he is our son…”
“Technically, he’s my son and only your step-son.”
You faked outrage, a hand on your heart.
“How dare you?! Elwood, baby… don’t listen to your da… he’s talking nonsense…”
Andrew laughed, held out his hand for you to come closer. You hurried into his arms, let him hold you tightly to his chest and bury his face into your neck.
“You’re okay, love? How was your day?”
Your entire body relaxed under his soft touches, the circles he rubbed into your back. You grinned at the question. Simple, familiar, the one he asked every day, without fail…
“It was okay. First lesson of the year… you know how these are. It’s always a little weird to find my footing. But so far, it went fine. What about you?”
“Same… Nothing much happened…”
He kissed your neck, took in a deep breath.
“I’ve missed you today,” you admitted.
“Tuesdays suck,” he nodded, and you chuckled into his chest.
“Yeah… I can’t see you at all… it sucks.”
He hummed in agreement. But then, he let out a surprised breath.
“What are these?”
You followed his gaze behind you, and finally remembered your flowers.
“Oh! These are for you!”
“For me?”
You nodded, offering him an excited smile while you moved across the kitchen to pick up his gift. You handed him the flowers, and he couldn’t refrain a grin.
“These are gorgeous,” he hummed in approval.
“Saw them when I was coming back from Dunnes… they made me think of you. Or well… the sunflowers did… I just added a few flowers to make a bouquet.”
“That’s so nice of you, darling. Thank you.”
“You like them?”
“I love them. Thank you!”
He bent down to kiss you, his lips making you forget about the world. He kissed your forehead too, before pulling away with a happy wiggle.
“Gonna put them in some water! Oh, and you got the ingredients I needed, then?”
“I did.”
“Thanks, hun! Gonna start making dinner now, then, while you shower. Is that alright?”
“That’s perfect, thank you.”
You didn’t tell him about that moment before the baby clothes. It wasn’t even important, just silly thoughts…
Summary: You overhear him mumbling to himself as he gets dressed about how tight his pants have gotten, scared he’s said it just loud enough on purpose, in order to lay the seeds for how much he fears a body like yours.
Rating: Mature/explicit, 18+. Discussions of weight and body insecurity abound. Strongly implied plus-sized reader.
Words: 4,173
Note: So I've had this story in the can for a few months now, but now that I've finally gotten pretty far into the next story, I feel more comfortable posting this. If you've ever felt insecure in the body you live in, I hope you can relate and enjoy.
Read on AO3 or keep scrolling here!
It starts off… subtly.
It’s a lazy Sunday, rain slamming against the window, perfectly setting the scene as your lips connect, kissing you dizzy.
You’ve got fabric bunched in your hands, ready to continue your fun until he stops you. “No. Keep it on. I’ll keep mine on, too, so we’re even.”
You can only shrug, thinking nothing of it.
Then, there’s a few days later, when he states, “I like wearing your shirts,” after an impromptu sleepover. He gets you hook, line, and sinker with that one, somehow even more turned on at the premise.
What finally catches you off guard is the mostly dimmed lights, and only initiating any form of intimacy after the sun sets… if you're lucky.
It takes a while for you to put the clues together, and while, at first, you wanted to believe it was a part of some sort of fun sensory experience he wanted to try, you're afraid he's got other things on his mind. Especially when even those occurrences start to disappear.
It sends you into a panic. You were far from the skinniest person he’s dated, but it never seemed to be an issue up until now.
You can’t help wonder what his line in the sand was, what exactly you did to turn him off forever, to make you into this grotesque monster he can’t even stomach in broad daylight.
And, why bother to even string you along? Doesn’t he know that’s more torturous than just cutting you off cold turkey? That it gives your mind more time to wander to places you thought you hid behind a vault the night you first met?
You start avoiding his texts until the last possible second, for which he starts to surprise you at your place, like he’d know you’d be home and lonely. Like he has to save you from the tragedy he's written.
And yet, the only time he touches you is when your head is in his lap, scratching your scalp as the TV plays something you cannot bear to concentrate on. Not when his fingers dance up and down your arm, unwillingly tensing up as you think about how turned off he must be by your extra skin.
You sleep together, but only in the literal sense. Fully clothed, under covers, in the dark of night, can he spoon you, terrified he’ll be out before morning if a hand accidentally brushes over your stomach.
He leaves after breakfast, not before you overhear him mumbling to himself as he gets dressed about how tight his pants have gotten.
You’re scared he’s said it just loud enough on purpose, to lay the seeds for how much he fears a body like yours, so that the breakup can be much more swift.
He still kisses you before he leaves, chaste and tasting like syrup and blueberries.
Another night, uninvited, he appears at your door, clad in baggy pants and a zip hoodie, take out from your favorite place in hand.
“The rest are yours,” he states, finishing his half of the dumplings. “I’ve eaten my share.”
“I’m not that hungry,” you lie. You hadn’t been eating full meals for the past few days, opting for lighter dishes in an attempt to “change your lifestyle.” But every recipe you found online made you nothing but miserable. Which, admittedly, wasn’t that hard after this week’s bout of introspection.
“Are you OK?” Andrew asks in earnest.
And since he’s being so honest, it’s only fair to reply, “Do you not find me attractive anymore?”
“Huh?! No! Why would you…” He stutters in disbelief, accompanied by a matching expression.
“It’s no secret I’m not the type of person you tend to go for…”
“What? Gorgeous? Funny? On what planet are you not my type?
“Andrew, even you can admit we haven’t really been intimate in a… bit. And the last few times we have, we keep our shirts on. Or we’re fully in the dark. Even if you don’t think something’s off, your actions are speaking louder than any excuse you’re about to come up with.”
“Honey… please just trust me when I say that it’s got nothing to do with how much I’m attracted to you. Which, for the record, is a lot.” He sighs, “It’s, and not to say the most cliche phrase of all fucking time, not you! It’s…,” his eyes focus anywhere but yours, “it’s me.”
You can only sigh.“Yeah… sure. Let me guess? You think I ‘deserve better’ and you’re ‘not good enough for me’.” You add air quotes for extra measure.
“Yeah…”
“Andrew, what the fuck are you talking about? The only horrible thing you’ve done as of late is this! Unless you’ve been secretly resenting me this whole fucking time!”
“No! I love you!”
“But you don’t want to be with me?”
“I want to! You shouldn’t be with… ugh!” Andrew short-circuits, unable to decide how to word this properly. He’s trying to be a martyr, giving you an out while he can, all while not trying to insult your intelligence. It’s a hard line to balance, and he has unsuccessfully fallen off his beam.
“Andrew, if you’re not going to tell me what’s wrong, I’m going to ask you to stop wasting my time and leave.”
He sighs as he attempts to come up with an explanation. “When I’m usually on the road, or working, I’m surviving on coffee and occasional snacks with a meal if I’m lucky enough to have the time to scarf down. Now that I’m home, I’ve got more time to rest and… more time to… well… most of my clothes have felt tighter as of late.”
He doesn’t like this feeling: the perpetual embarrassment of having to admit you’ve changed in ways society tells you is for the worse. And he knows it’s probably healthier to look like this than a sunken-in face where cheekbones peak out as a physical manifestation of his exhaustion, but his thoughts cannot be kept at bay.
Andrew grabs for baggier items of clothing with a twinge of guilt. He likes sleeping at yours, borrowing shirts that are guaranteed to be oversized so he can feel comfortable with himself and you.
It also doesn’t hurt that he enjoys wearing your clothes, engulfed in your scent… like a home away from home. Like being wrapped in a metaphorical blanket, he appreciates every aspect of being yours, in awe as to how the fuck you must manage these emotions he’s only recently experiencing.
He should be used to this, but taking up unnecessary space with his height is different than width.
“So, you want to break up because you gained a normal amount of weight after not starving yourself for months on end…”
“No! I don’t want to end this. That is not, nor was that ever, my intention. I just feel so fucking… weird now every time I take my clothes off.”
“Well, if you can’t stomach looking at yourself naked, how the fuck am I supposed to feel when you look at me?!”
Now he’s just confused. “Honey, you know that’s not what I mean! Frankly, this isn’t about you!”
“Well, it feels like it is! It sounds like I am the embodiment of your biggest fears right now. It’s no fucking secret I’m close to double your size!”
Another sigh, another bout of frustration where he can’t bring himself to even look at you. “I see you… and you’re so… fucking gorgeous, and I just wonder… how? How do you do it!? How do you see yourself and not feel like you’re disappointing everyone around you for existing?”
You laugh to yourself, shaking your head at what felt like a backhanded compliment. “I don’t! The number of times I catch myself in a mirror and think, 'Wow… no one in their right mind would want to see you naked?' You make it hurt… less. Or at least you did.“
You hate that you felt this way, that you only felt worthy through being desired sexually. That’s something you both had to work on, clearly, and this vulnerable confession accidentally turned argument wasn’t helping.
“For the record, I had been wanting to tell you how good you looked lately. How you look healthy and just overall happier. And as much as I joke about breaking you in half, you also just look hotter when you don’t resemble a straight-up skeleton.”
“T’anks,” he mumbles, arms crossed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m sorry I-“
“No," Now you just feel bad. "Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for. I didn’t mean to respond so selfishly. Again, it’s more of a… if this is how you feel about your very normal body… how the fuck am I supposed to feel about myself kind of thing? I get how you’re feeling. I really do. And it hurts to see you like this because I know exactly what it’s like. And it fucking sucks. Change in general… sucks! And when it happens to our bodies, and you realize it’s not something you can immediately control? It’s not an easy mindset to deal with.”
You reach your arm out over the table, a hand open for him to grab. Sitting straight up, he uncrosses his arms and takes it.
“As much as I love to see you wearing my clothes… I would rather see you out of them. And I know that me saying that is not the be-all end-all cure for this, but neither of us are therapists, nor nutritionists, nor clothing designers. At least not tonight.” You squeeze his hand for reassurance.
Andrew nods. It’s all he can do, other than a soft, “Yeah.”
“Now, why don’t we clean up and go watch a movie or TV show or whatever. You get to pick.”
“OK.”
You gather the plates and silverware, tossing them in the sink for now, and putting the leftovers in your fridge for another time. “Babe,” you call out for him as you open some cabinets. “Do you want me to make some popcorn?”
You’re a bit startled when he wraps his arms around you from behind, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. “Thank you.”
You blink your eyes open to a half-eaten bowl of popcorn on your coffee table, the credits to some fantasy movie in the background. Looking down at yourself greets you with a still passed out Andrew, between your legs with his head just below your chest, arms fully wrapped around your torso. He must have fallen asleep sometime between you running your hands through his hair and him placing light kisses on your stomach, when not absentmindedly playing with the fabric of your sweatshirt.
“Hey,” you rub his shoulder, “wake up, sleepy head.”
“Ugh,” he mumbles. “What time is it?”
“11:50. But it really doesn’t matter, since my back hasn’t taken too kindly to being pushed against the armrest for this long.”
“Do you want a massage?”
“I think I just want to lie in my bed.”
“Can I come?”
“If you get off of me, yeah.”
“But you’re so comfy…” he squeezes your torso.
“Andrew… I’m not above pushing you onto the floor.”
“I know…” he says in a defeated tone. Lifting himself off of you eventually, he mumbles about how he “had to go to the bathroom,” once he does. “No other reason,” he shouts before shutting the door.
You start going through your drawers, trying to find a suitable outfit to sleep in, when you get an… idea.
“Hey,” you turn to Andrew, who’s currently taking up your doorway. “I feel so sweaty all of a sudden.” Which, not technically a lie, as you’ve been strictly in sweats this entire day, not anticipating any interactions with other humans when you got dressed this morning. “I think I’m gonna take a shower.”
“OK…”
You move past him, tossing your sweatshirt on the floor as you go to start the water. “Do you…” You briefly look back over your shoulder before twisting your shirt over your head.
Oh, “Yes.” It clicks. “Yes, I do.”
Any bit of drowsiness has all but dissipated as he pushes you up against the sink, kissing you with gusto. His hands roam your now bare chest, pinching and squeezing to get those desired noises out of you as you white-knuckle the porcelain. His lips make their way to your neck eventually, as you start to subtly play with the hem of the first layer of clothing.
He notices sooner rather than later, backing off as he catches his breath.
“Unless you've got a bathing suit on under your hoodie, you can’t get in the shower with clothes on.”
Dammit, he realizes the game you’re asking him to play. Well, it’s more akin to a trick, yes, but one that benefits everyone involved. For the greater good, as they say.
It’s not a cure, but a Band-Aid. A temporary bout of fun to cure a bit of his woes, so that you could save the introspective unpacking of how society treats people who don’t fit a certain norm for tomorrow morning.
A lack of a dimmer setting on your bathroom’s light switch? A room that requires clothes to be taken off lest you feel the wrath of ruined fabric? Steam fogging up the bathroom, only emphasizing the desire to undress? All baby steps… a manageable hurdle.
You push down your own pair of sweats, your underwear not following behind, as an attempt to encourage him. But yet, he remains frozen. And not because he’s staring at your now naked frame.
You close the space between you both, hands on his comfortably clad chest as you look up at him. “Can I undress you?” Your tone is as soft as you can muster, “Please?”
“OK,” he breathes out with a nod.
You take your time with the zipper, slowly bringing it down as he shrugs off the fabric. This was a marathon, not a sprint, so you let the clothing fall gently to the floor.
First, it was the hoodie, for which you rub his arms once they’re exposed. Then it was his sweatpants, untying a bow as you loosen them, letting them drop next to your bathroom mat, holding his hips as he steps out of them, kicking them off to the side. You palm his erection through his underwear as you reach up to kiss him. “Just let me take care of you, baby,” you say as you gingerly play with the hem of his shirt.
You’re delighted when he lifts his arms to help you get it over his head, rather than fighting back or giving in to every voice in his brain that’s screaming for him to run away. His eyes are closed once it's tossed, like he was bracing for impact, unable to face his demons hidden in the mirror behind you.
But yours are fully open, a mouth ready to drool as you took him in. It was softer. It was nicer. It was, “So fucking hot.”
Your mouth is on his body immediately, planting kisses on every piece of exposed skin you could get your hands on.
“I’m so proud of you, baby,” you continue to reward him with nips, pinches, kisses, in no specific order, as he runs his hands through your hair, letting out a shaky sigh as he reaches a temporary bout of acceptance.
One hand dips past the waistband of his underwear, stroking a now fully-hard cock as you squeeze at his extra flesh with the other.
“My beautiful boy,” you kiss his stomach again. “You’re so pretty.”
You look up to see his head tilted towards the ceiling as he groans, so you take the opportunity to kiss any part of his neck you can reach, your other hand now moving up to his chest as you brush over sensitive spots.
More noises, all echoing so sweetly in that bathroom, louder than the running water. You manage to get behind him, pushing his underwear down so he's ready to jump into the shower once it's warm enough. While one hand wraps around his front, the other is traveling up his neck, pushing at the back of his head so he gets a good, proper look in the mirror. "Look," you say as softly as you can, your other hand stroking him. "How did you get even more attractive since I first met you?" you hum, kissing his shoulder.
He moans as you continue to pump his cock, catching the blush forming on his cheeks until the mirror is completely fogged up, the shower sure to be the perfect temperature as of now.
“Come on,” one last kiss to his neck before you detach yourself, stepping over the tub into the shower.
Andrew follows you as quickly as he can to join you, almost worried he was going to slip when he finally makes it inside. His hands are on your jaw immediately, kissing you as the water rushes down your back.
You keep stroking him in the meantime, enjoying every noise he sputters out. “How’s that?” you encourage him to be even louder, smiling as he complies.
“Fuck,” it’s drawn out as he throws his head back, your mouth back on his chest. “Just like that. I’m so-“
Another moan. Another nip. A palm flat against the tile, wishing he had something to grip on that wasn’t you. Not that he doesn’t try, nails digging into the soft flesh of your upper arm to ensure it’s as painless as he can manage. “Let me know when you’re close, baby. Want you to come all over me.”
“Mhmm,” he uses this as his opportunity to take over, your arms now free to wrap around his neck. Pulling him down for a bout of sloppy kisses, he pumps himself. “Fuck,” he echoes into your mouth. “I-“
You feel his stickiness all over your belly with bits up to your chest, in tandem with his heavy breaths. “That’s it,” you cup his chin. “You did so well, babe.” Eyes closed, he’s practically heaving, hand back on the tile for balance. You place a quick kiss on his lips, “It felt so good to have you finish on me.”
He nods. “Thank you” gets stuttered out after a big exhale.
“I’m going to clean myself off now, OK? And then I’ll help you after, how’s that?”
Another nod. Another exhale. Another quick kiss.
You see a bit of a smile from him before you turn around to face the shower head, letting what’s left of him on you to cascade into the drain.
He places light kisses on your shoulders as you reach for the bar of soap. “Does your back still hurt?” He asks between pecks, now flat against you, hands around your torso, smiling at the softness he brings.
“I think the hot water helped,” you respond as you lather yourself up. “But god knows my shoulders could always use your magic hands.”
“What about other places?” he teases, rubbing circles into your back.
Turns out “later” wasn’t that far into your future.
Towel-clad, you lay on your bed, Andrew returning the favor soon enough as he peppered every inch of you with kisses. Starting from your legs, to the inside of your thighs, to your stomach. Scratching, caressing, biting, and everything in between as he travels up your body, murmurs of “gorgeous,” “beautiful,” “stunning,” and whatever else he could come up with in that thesaurus he called a brain.
His beard tickles your skin, and you feel his smile when you giggle due to the sensation. “I love you,” another peck, this time in the valley of your chest. “I love every inch of you,” another gentle kiss, “I’m so lucky to be with someone as pretty as you.”
You can only sigh with delight, grateful to have met Andrew when you did, and that your friends encouraged you to talk to that guy who was, “Definitely staring at you,” from across the bar. If it weren’t for them, you wouldn’t have experienced this past year of bliss.
After getting at your neck, he’s finally met your gaze, planting kisses all over your face: your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your eyes, saving your lips for last. But, before he takes the plunge, he just smiles back at you, lit perfectly by your bedroom lamp. “Hi,” so sweet, you can feel the toothaches forming.
“Hi.”
You sit up as he kisses you, determined not to end the night on your back until it was time to fall asleep. Gently pushing him onto the space next to you, you reach over a curious Andrew as you fish out a condom from the table of your bedside drawer. “Do you want me to put it on, or-“ you ask as you hold it between your fingers.
“I can do it,” he grabs the condom with eagerness as you lie beside him. He’s always been ready and willing to do whatever you suggest, more enthusiastic with his clothes off, rather than on.
“Can I-“
“Yes.”
“… finish what I’m trying to say?”
“I just want you to finish in general.”
You lean down to kiss him as you run your hands through tufts of chest hair. “You’re so sweet,” another kiss as you play with his nipples, “so sexy.”
“What,” he interrupts himself with an involuntary noise, “were you going to ask?”
“I want to ride you,” a kiss, “for as long as you’ll let me.”
“Please,” he responds in a tone implying he would want nothing less.
“And I mean long. You can’t finish before me, babe. Promise?”
“Promise.”
Andrew opts to lie down flat, rather than propping himself up against the headboard. He typically prefers to look at you, but once you slip out a, “I love seeing you under me,” suddenly he’s making himself comfortable as he rests his pretty little head on one of your pillows.
His hands are firmly on your hips as you lower yourself onto him, a pleasant sigh shared between you both as you take him, feeling yourself stretch with pleasure.
“You feel so fucking good, baby,” you exhale as you start to rock your hips. “Fuck.”
Slow and steady was the name of the game. Gentle, meticulous, deliberate, each movement you made felt calculated, like you crunched the numbers to make sure you lasted as long as possible.
You rest your hands on his stomach for some balance as you pick up the pace, a small victory as he doesn’t immediately recoil at your touch. “I love the way you feel,” a double entendre at its finest.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Honey.” He loves seeing you like this, in the throes of it, head back as you make noises only confined to this personal space. “How much-“
“Longer,” you answer him, followed by a moan. He starts to move his hips in tandem with yours, “Yes!” You shout as your symmetry works wonders. “Just like that, baby.”
His nails are deep into your sides, practically guiding you for the next couple of moments as you get closer and closer to the edge. Squeezing your softness, you can tell he’s close, so you slow down your pace.
“Just a little longer, OK?” You wrap a hand around his wrist, a more entertaining version of a stress ball.
“Mhmm,” he breathes out.
Eventually, you can feel that surge in you, that eventual wave building. “You’re so fucking hot when you make those noises for me, baby.” Back to picking up the pace, cracking that metaphorical whip, and you both moan in pleasure. “Just like that, I’m…”
A few more thrusts and you’re done for, one last, circulation-cutting-off level squeeze to his wrist as you ride out. He’s not too far after, crying out your name as he digs nails into stretch marks. Beautiful of sight and sound, you love to see his face strain in pleasure, all because of you.
Despite your exhaustion, you manage to get up off of Andrew and onto the space next to him in your bed. Through matching heavy breaths, you kiss him. “I love you,” your lips move to his neck. “All of you,” down his chest, all the way to his happy trail, before making your way back up. His soft smile almost makes you well up. “What shirt do you want?”
“The grey one. With the possums on it.”
“The one with the holes in it? You can just keep it if you want?”
“Nah. It’s more fun if I steal it from you.”
You roll your eyes into one last kiss before a bit of clean up, and soon enough, your head is resting on a possum-clad chest, a blanket draped over you both.
Hands play with your hair as you drift out. “Thank you, Honey,” he whispers before wrapping an arm around your backside, tucking you into his side.
tags: Plus Size Reader, being chased through the woods like prey, Oral (f-receiving), hand binding, vaginal sex, fingering, brief mentions of blood, technically some self harm but they can heal themselves on command so.... take that as you will, outdoor sex
words: 11k+
AO3
You can read it through the link above of under the cut
Like and comments are always welcome and greatly appreciate they fuel my writing
Run
"Andy" you call stepping into the dark, eerily silent house. Your keys rattling softly as you drop them into the ceramic dish by the door.
Stepping further into your home, you carefully remove your brown suede block heels as you move towards the den.
The dead silence of the house itches at back of your neck. Sending goosebumps down your arms, and a shiver up your spine. "Andy" you call again only to be met with more silence in return.
Your heightened vampiric senses niggle at the back of your mind. Telling you something was off, something was wrong. You just couldn't quite figure out what it was.
Cautiously turning the corner into the main living room, hoping to find Andrew, you're met with an empty, virtually unused space. Everything was almost too pristine, even after a day spent cleaning, your house normally looked lived in.
All of it set you on edge.
"Where the fuck is he?" You huff, nails and fangs unconsciously lengthening into sharp, lethal points as you turn to check the kitchen.
Stepping into the kitchen you find it in the same condition as the rest of the main floor. Free of any signs of life. Not even a few dishes from any meals Andrew might have had throughout the day, either in the sink or on the drying rack. There wasn't even trash in the kitchen bin from any kind of meal prep.
Even though you were both vampires, you still enjoyed the odd human meal. You being a human turned vampire led you to still desire the food you'd grown up on. Something you'd passed onto Andrew in the decades you'd been together. So you expected there to be some signs of a potential meal eaten in the ten hours you'd been gone, and yet there was nothing.
You allow your gaze to flicker across the kitchen one more time before turning on your heals and leaving the room. Heading towards the back of the house where he kept his studio.
Bare feet padding across the soft carpeted floor you call out to him once again, still hoping for an kind of answer.
You only manage to make it a few steps down the hall before you ears prick up. Heightened by your vampiric senses, they catch the faint sound of rustling directly above you on the second floor.
As fast as lightening you turn on your heels and bolt for the stairs. Taking them two at a time. Making it to the second floor in record time.
Pausing at the top of the stairs you take in the scene of pure chaos that was the second floor of your home. Standing in staunch comparison to the main floor of the home, the upper level was wrecked beyond compare. Furniture strewn about, clothes flung this way and that, every door lining the hall was flung wide on their hinges. All except one. Your bedroom.
Rolling your shoulders back, allowing the pop of your joints to recenter your focus. Drowning out the panicked thumping of your heart so you can focus solely on the noises coming from behind your closed bedroom door.
Carefully you pad silently down the carpeted hall. Passing the spare rooms that were in similarly chaotic states of dishevelment to the hall.
Making it to your dark oak bedroom door, you lift a claw tipped hand to press against the wood. Taking in a deep breath before pushing open the vintage door, wincing at the slight squeak of the old metal hinges. Peering into the inky blackness of the room, your heightened vampiric gaze flits across the empty space.
With a flick of your wrist you flip the wall switch, turning on the lamp in the opposite corner of the room. Illuminating the space in a soft warm glow. Exposing more of the messy chaos from the rest of the upstairs.
"Andrew" you tentatively call, stepping into the room you shared with your mate.
Stepping towards the Alaskan king bed in the center of the large room. Your an arm's length from the bed when you stop in your tracks as a deep male voice rumbles from behind you. "Scared Killer?"
A thrill shoots up your spin at the low, almost threatening tone of your mate.
Spinning on your heels to face him huffing in annoyance. "If anyone should be scared here Andrew. It should be you." You raise a brow at him, your claws and fangs retracting at the sight of him. "Unless you have a reasonable explanation for why my house looks like a code orange wind storm had it's way with the upstairs."
Your hands, now claw free, rest on your hips. Head tilting inquisitively at him as you finally get a chance to take him in. His unruly brunette curls were pulled back in a loose bun. One of his favorite old graphic t-shirts hanging loose over his shoulders, paired with his favorite navy work out shorts.
Ignoring your blatant annoyance Andrew stalks barefoot towards you. Looking very much like a beast sizing up it's prey. "I could scent it on you since the moment you stepped into the kitchen." He hums fangs flashing dangerously in the warm, golden glow from the corner lamp.
"What are you playing at Andrew?" You murmur, breath hitching slightly. Unable to fight off the growing thrum of want in the pit of your stomach. Your gaze instinctually following every move he made. Body twisting to keep track of him as he circled you.
"I'm not playing at anything Killer. I'm merely deciding what I'm going to do with you when I've had my fill of chasing you." He practically purrs, coming to a stop behind you. His warm breath fanning across your neck as he curls his arms around your waist. Tugging you back against his solid form, his fangs ghosting across your thumping pulse point he adds. "Hunting you."
A shiver worms it's way up your spine as you melt into his familiar, warm embrace. "Why hunt me when you've already got me Bear?" You murmur, head tilting to the side allowing him free access to your throat. The only living being you'd ever let this close to one of the most vulnerable parts of your body.
Nosing at your pulse point, he licks at the bite mark scarring your soft skin from the mating ritual you performed over a decade ago, after you finally accepted that what you felt for your vampiric sire was more than just friendship. A low rumbling chuckle works it's up from deep within his chest as he replies, humming against your skin. "Because Killer I like to play with my food before I eat it. Makes it all the sweeter when I've finally captured my prize."
"And what if I don't give you something to chase?" You breath, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Your unnaturally long canine digging into the plump delicate flesh.
"That my Darling Killer-" He murmurs lips ghosting up the long column of your neck. "-is simply not an option."
You let out a strangled whimper at the warning. His fangs dragging delicately across the shell of your ear. His grip tightening briefly on your hips, almost like a last ditch effort to convince himself to release you before his grip slackens. Letting you go with a low territorial growl.
Whirling around to face him, your lips millimeters apart, you murmur "now what?"
"Now Maeve-" He grins devilishly down at you, his fangs flashing invitingly at you. The sharp, pointed canines would scream in warning to anyone else, but to you they were a promise of more to come. "-now you run." He rumbles, a low growl breaking free from somewhere deep in his chest. A predatorial glint flickering in his mossy brown eyes.
A thrill dances along your skin as your natural instincts kick in sending you rushing from the room at inhuman speed. Not daring to look back as you bolt down the stairs, bee-lining for the back glass doors.
"If he wants a chase, he's going to get a chase." You mutter to yourself, bursting through the back doorway and out into the open yard.
You and Andrew had discussed this a few weeks ago after watching the new Frankenstein, and the surprising reaction you had to a particular scene. The scene in question being the one near the climax of the film when The Creature told Viktor to run. A lit stick of dynamite in his hand. You surprising reaction being the, very much against your will, interested whimper and unintentional squirming.
After the film had ended Andrew turned to you and asked point blank if you had a fantasy of being chased like prey. To which you replied with a surprised scoff of apparently. His answering smirk was all the warning you needed to let you know he was cataloging that for later use.
And it seemed tonight was that later use.
The skirt of your dress billowing behind you as you jump over the small hedgerow lining your yard, and into the heavily wooded property beyond. Twigs and leaves crunching beneath your bare feet as you hit the ground running.
You manage about four kilometers into the twelve acres of woods on the property when you hear Andrew call out to you. "Don't forget Maeve I know your scent. I can hear the thrum of your heart as it sings in desire for me."
Your ears, heightened by your vampiric senses, pick up the crunch of dead leaves under his equally bare feet as he stalks leisurely through the woods after you. "You can run from me Killer, but you cannot hide from your mate." He calls tauntingly.
Deciding that two could play at his game of cat and mouse, you turn on your heel before taking a running leap in his direction. Landing with a soft thump a meter to his left, a knowing smirk spread across your rosy cheeks. "Who said anything about hiding Bear?" You hum before blowing him a kiss.
Shooting him a teasing wink you bolt off again in the opposite direction.
"You little Minx" he growls finally giving chase.
Letting out a whooping laugh in reply, you lay on more speed as you barrel through the forest. Your loose curls rippling behind you like a majestic willow tree caught in a fierce summer storm. Dodging trees, jumping over fallen branches, and the odd badger hole with supernatural grace as you careen at full speed through the dense underbrush.
Your inner beast singing in rapturous joy as Andrew chases you through the crisp autumn night. You let out another whoop in ecstasy this time answered by one of Andrew's own.
"Keep running Little Fox, either way you'll be mine." He growls, now a mere four meters behind you.
The mating bonds warming your skin at his close proximity. A delicious thrill dancing along your spine at the sensation.
Without thinking you sprint full tilt at a large, sturdy oak, banking off it and using it as a bolster to launch yourself backwards into a flip. Twisting over him with an unnatural ease, the tips of your long brown curls brushing the crown of his head as you pass over his tall form.
Landing with a feline grace, you take off sprinting back towards where you came from, calling over your shoulder to his disgruntled form. "You'll catch me when I want you to catch me old man."
The sound of wind rushes in your ears as he let's loose a barbaric roar. His inner beast finally answering the call of your own to come out and play.
"Oh we'll see about that Little Fox." He mutters to himself, grinning slyly to himself before setting off to the left at a full sprint.
His hunter mind, honed by centuries of hunting various prey all over the world, guiding him to run in the opposite direction of you. Said mind already calculating your most logical next moves. Anticipating your response to him no longer chasing you.
Abruptly skidding to a halt about four kilometers from where you'd left him having realized he was no longer following you. You close your eyes, drowning out the miscellaneous sounds of the forest around you. Trying to hone in on the location of your mate amongst the ancient oaks, alders and ash trees.
"Gotcha!" You grin, your eyes bursting open as you zone in on his location to your right. The line between hunter and prey blurring as you abruptly turn in the direction of your mate and give chase.
With each powerful step you take towards Andrew, the mating marks hidden beneath your skin heat up. Alerting you to how close your where to his position as he ran perpendicular to you.
Zeroing in on him, you suck in a deep breath laying on more speed before bursting forward in an inhumanly powerful leap. Landing with a soft thump an arm's length from your target.
"I've never known you to give up so easily Killer-" Andrew grins his bare heels digging into the dirt as he skids to a halt before you. "-tired already?"
Tilting your head innocently at him, you flash your fangs in a devilish grin humming in reply. "No I just also happen to really enjoy playing with my food."
"Last I checked you're the one being chased Little Fox." He barks out a laugh, his long claw tipped hands resting on his slender hips.
"That my Darling Bear, doesn't always mean I'm-" You purr bending slightly at the waist, hands slipping up your thick strong thighs beneath your dress. Eyes never leaving his, making sure he's watching intently as you slip your emerald, lace panties down your long, toned legs. "-the prey." You finish, punctuating your statement by tossing your panties in his direction.
Andrew flicks a hand out, easily catching the falling green lace, his muddy green, lust blown gaze never leaving yours. "Run" he growls in warning, an acceptance to your clear challenge flickering in his gaze.
Letting out an excited squeal, you turn to your left, breaking out in a sprint once more. Cackling madly at the sound of him thundering after you at break neck speed.
Your body humming with the chase as you crash through the dense woods, weaving this way and that. Trying to throw him off your scent as you make your way further into the forest.
Throwing a quick glance over your shoulder to check Andrew's proximity to you. Your feet slowing to a halt when that quick glance reveals that Andrew was once more nowhere in sight.
Grinning to yourself, your gaze flickers this way and that. Trying to locate where you must have lost him. Hands resting on your hips as you spin in the small clearing.
"The Old Man is slacking." You chuckle softly to yourself, ears peeled, listening for the sounds of your mate running through the underbrush.
"How about we give him a little help?" You mutter, slicing the center of your palm open with the sharp point of your thumb nail.
Squeezing your wounded hand into a fist, you allow the deep crimson blood to drip freely onto the dried, dead leaves covering the forest floor.
As the last drop of blood plinks on the forest floor, you hear the snap of a thick branch about thirteen kilometers west of you. The crack of wood was followed directly by a low challenging chuckle letting you know your little trick worked. He'd caught your scent.
Licking your wound shut you grin "come and play Bear."
After making sure the only trace of your blood was what pooled on the crumpled leaves at your feet. You size up a large alder tree a few meters away, planning your escape.
With a wicked grin you allow your gaze to trail upwards to the canopy. Calculating which tree closest to you connected to your chosen hiding spot.
With a click of your tongue you saddle up to the old oak to your left. Quickly scaling the sturdy oak with a feline like grace before carefully crawling over to your chosen alder tree. Finding a strong, thick branch to perch against the trunk of the tree. Listening and watching for Andrew's imminent approach.
Within minutes he breaks through your cluster of trees, slowing down to a stroll as he hums teasingly. "Where are you Little Fox?"
Leaning back against the trunk, your legs swinging back and forth absentmindedly on either side of the branch. Biting back a snicker as you watch intently as he stalks around the small clearing you'd bled on moments ago.
"I'll find you eventually Maeve or have you forgotten just exactly who is hunting you?" He calls scanning the forest for you. Your scent was too strong from the small splattering of blood on the ground, you knew he was struggling to locate you with it.
Quietly you lean forward, pushing yourself up onto your hands and knees to creep across the branch. Moving closer to where Andrew stood in the center of the small clearing. Carefully you slip back over to the oak tree from earlier, moving to perch above him.
After watching him search around for a few more minutes, you decide to announce your presence. Taking pity on him.
Standing up on your branch you call down to him. "Oh trust me Andrew, if anyone has forgotten who they're up against-" Sucking in a breath you step off the branch, swiftly dropping to the forest floor a meter away from him. Your strong legs rippling with the impact, knees bending to absorb the pressure. Standing back up to your full height you smirk "-it's you."
In a flash he grabs your waist and yanks you to him rumbling, "oh I know exactly who I'm up against Little Fox."
The dangerously low timbre of his voice sends a shiver down your spine as you melt against him. A gasp breaking free from your lips as your hardened nipples press against his solid chest.
"Already so excited for me-" He murmurs, brushing the back on his index finger across the plump apple of your cheek. "-and to think all I've had to do to get you so worked up, has been chase you through the woods. Like a predator hunts it's prey."
You let out a shuttering breath, fighting to keep your knees from buckling out beneath you. Wrapping your arms up around his neck you smirk up at him knowingly.
Grinning his hand slipping it's way down from your cheek to wrap around your throat. His thumb resting against your chin, tilting your head back, forcing you to look up at him he says. "Do you like being my prey Little Fox?"
"Mhm" you hum, biting your lower lip, your gaze obediently locked on his.
Brushing his thumb along the sharp line of your jaw, he brings it down to rest against your pulse point. Squeezing at the sides of your throat, effectively giving you the sensation of losing the ability to breath without actually cutting off your supply of oxygen.
"Use your words Killer" he growls, his fangs flashing enticingly at you.
You swallow harshly around his large palm stuttering out "ye…yes I like being your prey."
With a devilish grin he tilts your head to the side, bending to burrow his face into the crook of your neck, nuzzling against your mating mark. Sharp fangs grazing against your delicate flesh. Both of your mating bonds singing in unadulterated pleasure at the touch.
You let out a sharp gasp as his possessive hand pulls your hips impossibly tighter against his own. The long, hard line of his cock pressing against your lower belly. Right above your womb. His other hand still cupping your jaw guides your lips to ghost against his.
Grinning against your lips he murmurs, "I think I've earned myself an appetizer. Wouldn't you agree Killer?"
His hand trails from it's resting spot on your lower back down to the middle of your thigh. Bunching the skirt of your blue floral dress up into his large hand. Exposing you to the cold autumn breeze.
"Please" you sigh nuzzling into the warmth of his palm. Your fingers, now claw free, carding into the hair at the nape of his neck.
Pulling back from your lips, his gaze locking onto yours as his hand slips under your dress. His fingers quickly finding purchase on your aching clit.
"Fucking Hell Killer, you're already so fucking wet for me" he groans, swirling his middle and ring fingers around the swollen bud. Collecting your slick, and coating his long digits in preparation for you.
You let out a shuddering gasp, arms tightening around his neck. Fighting to keep yourself upright as he sinks one of his deliciously long digits into your dripping entrance. "Fucking Hell Andy!"
"God you're so fucking pliable for me Little Fox." He groans, teeth dragging across the shell of your ear. His free hand moving from your cheek to hold your waist. His fingers digging into the plump flesh there, holding you tight against him.
You let out an indecent whine as he curls his fingers against your G-spot. Electric shocks of pleasure shooting up your spine pulling a pitiful whimper from your lips. "More please… fuck I need more."
Grinning against your jaw, he nips at the soft skin murmuring "I know Killer… I know."
Dragging his fangs along your neck as he adds a second finger. Instinctively curling them against your G-spot with each deliberate drag of his digits through your quivering walls.
"Ngh shit… oh fuck" you mewl rolling your hips against his. Fingers tugging the curls at the base of his neck.
Your thighs shake with the effort to keep yourself upright as he pumps his fingers in tandem with his thumb circling your clit. His mouth nipping and sucking at your neck and jaw. A predatorial growl rumbling from somewhere deep in the cavity of his chest. Much like that of a beast stalking the boundaries of it's cave.
"Andrew I… fuck I'm close" you plead, fingers biting into the meaty flesh of his broad shoulders. Your knees beginning to fail you as the small flicker of flame in the pit of your stomach begins to roar into a bonfire.
His thumb presses against your clit as his fingers pick up their pace. Working that burning pit in your stomach brighter and brighter. Sending it soaring for your soul and you reeling towards your release.
Kissing and nipping his way up your neck to your ear he commands you with a groan "cum for me Little Fox." His warm breath fanning across the shell of your ear. Fangs grazing your skin, leaving you no room for argument.
"Fu…fuck" you gasp, your face burrowing into the crook of his neck. Your lips finding their way to his mating mark, the twin to your own, pressing against the scarred flesh.
With a strained groan you free fall over the edge of release. Walls clenching around Andrew's fingers as he continues to work you through your orgasm.
Pressing his lips against the side of your head. His nose nuzzling into your brunette curls, breathing in your scent of almond and orange blossoms. "That's my good Little Fox" he praises softly.
"Bear" you pant against his skin. Your fangs biting into your lower lip as you fight to catch your breath.
"Catch your breath fast Killer-" He purrs pulling his fingers from your warmth, eliciting a choked whimper from you. "-because I'm not done chasing you."
Stepping back from your relaxed form, he grins devilishly at you, bringing his slick covered fingers up to his mouth. Sucking them clean with a decadent moan, his muddy green eyes locking onto yours.
With a cunning smirk he purrs tauntingly "run Little Fox."
He chuckles lowly as your brain, slow and relaxed still from your orgasm, computes his command. A wicked grin of your own breaking out across your face before you turn swiftly on your heel, and take off at a sprint. Running further into the woods.
Leaving him in the small clearing as you crash through the woods. The melodic hum of Andrew counting down from a hundred, giving you ample time to run, chiming in time with the crunch of leaves beneath your lithe feet.
"Three… two… one… ready or not Little Fox here I come" he calls teasingly, a grin clear in his voice. His taunt barely carrying over the pounding of your racing heart as your blood sores in your ears.
The salty Irish sea air weaves through your wild curls as you bank left, cutting through a thick patch of underbrush. Your eyes flickering madly as you try and familiarize yourself with your location. The brain fog, left over from your recent orgasm, finally clearing as the cogs begin to whir and turn. Your brain working to pinpoint where amongst the twelve acres of wooded land you were.
You knew these woods like the backs of your hands. You'd spent countless hours traversing the land since you moved in over two decades ago.
Leaping over a fox burrow your gaze snaps to a familiar Sitka Spruce. One you and Andrew joked about building a tree house in to hide away from the outside world for as long as you could before someone came looking.
Coming to an abrupt halt in front of the spruce, a disgruntled groan looses itself from your lips. Suddenly struck by the realization that Andrew had been herding you this entire time. Letting you think you had the upper hand when in the end you'd been playing right into his ancient, well trained hands.
You had underestimated who was hunting you.
"Fucker" you growl, shooting to the right. Twisting away from the offending spruce.
About four kilometers to the right of the spruce, you find an old, large weeping willow. It's long bough bending and stretching towards the earth. Much like Lucifer reaching up from the depths of Hell for the hand of God his father in Heaven.
The long, flexible branches of the tree wave softly in the breeze. Inviting you into the safety of their dense foliage.
"Fine I'll be your prey" you grin, slipping into the welcoming arms of the willow to await your hunter.
He liked this. The thrill of chasing you. The stretch of his limbs as he lays on more speed. Hunting his prey through the all too familiar twelve acres of wooded land upon which his favorite homestead sat.
He'd been planning this for weeks now. Ever since that soft, strangled whimper loosed itself from your lips during the end of Viktor's story in Frankenstein. It took everything in him not to take you right then and there on the living room couch that night. Show you what it was really like to bed a beast.
So he got your consent that night as soon as the film concluded, just to satisfy his curiosity. Then he waited and he planned, biding his time until everything was in order. Then he set his trap, and you, his perfectly predictable Little Fox, fell for it.
Skidding to a halt, Andrew's eyes narrow, surveying the surrounding woods. Scanning the area for any signs of your whereabouts. A tickle of pride worming it's way up his spine at how good you had gotten at hiding your tracks.
"Where are you Little Fox?" He sings tauntingly, sauntering past the massive Sitka Spruce. His hand instinctively reaching out to brush his long fingers against the trunk. His touch reverent as though paying his respects to the ancient tree.
In hindsight he probably was, as he had planted this particular spruce four-hundred years ago. Back when he first acquired the manor and it's land. He never did understand why he was moved to do it. Not until three and a half centuries later when he met you in a small studio apartment in Boston Massachusetts.
Now here he was five decades later, chasing you, his mate, through the woods to this exact tree. Just as he had planned for weeks now.
His vampiric senses, working at full tilt, pick up your orange blossom and almond scent wafting through the drooping branches of a near by willow tree.
Fangs flashing in the dim moonlight Andrew steps away from the spruce grinning wickedly. "There you are my Little Fox."
With stealth akin to that of a lion on the prowl, he sprints quietly over to the willow tree a few kilometers to his right. Your scent, emanating from the curtain of branches, growing stronger with each step.
Creeping up to the swaying greenery, his ears prick up. The soft sound of your gentle breaths coming from within the comfort of the trees foliage.
A small crack in the trees canopy allows a bright beam of moonlight to stream through. Aiding Andrew's already heightened eyesight in locating your plump, perfectly curved form, basking in the cool blue light a few steps away from the trunk of the willow.
With the patience only a well trained predator could muster, Andrew waits silently until you're facing away from him before pouncing. A bestial growl breaks free from his chest as he cuts through the wall of vine like branches. Closing the distance between the two of you in seconds.
With a cry of shock you feel a long, strong body slam into your back. An all too familiar scent of pine trees and musk floods your senses. The owner of that comforting scent wrapping their arms securely around your torso.
"Gotcha!" He purrs, nuzzling into your thick curls to breath in your strong scent. His large, powerful hands fisting the soft blue fabric of your dress where it pooled against your plush stomach.
A wicked grin spreads lazily across your cheeks as you lean back into his possessive embrace. Your head naturally tilting to the side, offering up the long column of your throat to his eager fangs. "And what are you going to do now that you've captured your prey?" You taunt softly, your hands finding their way to your torso to cover his.
"I, my Little Captured Fox-" he begins fangs dragging teasingly across your soft skin. "-am going to enjoy the prize owed to me." His hold tightens around your torso, pressing your back flush against his torso. His already half hard cock pressing against the curve of your ass. "If my Little Fox is in agreeance that is."
"I am always in agreeance" you breath, practically melting into his possessive hold.
A satisfied growl rumbles deep in his chest as he burrows his face into the crook of your neck humming, "perfect." His lips grazing across your shoulder as he asks "can I taste you Killer?" His breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as he presses his cheek against the side of your head.
Releasing his hands you spin around in his arms, reaching up to cup his cheek in your hands before crushing your lips to his in a searing kiss. Wordlessly answering his request. Your hips grinding against his as one of your hands slinks down from his cheek through the slim space between your bodies. Cupping the solid bulge growing in his exercise shorts. Grinning against his lips, fangs dragging against fangs as he groans at your touch.
His nails lengthen into claws at the shock of your hand rubbing against his erection. Biting and tearing at the delicate fabric of your dress with each grind of the heel of your palm against his stiff cock.
"Fuck Maeve" he whines against your lips.
Grinning against him, you nip at his lower lip before pulling back murmuring. "Who's the captured one now-" Your lips trailing featherlight, teasing kisses up his jaw. Breath fanning out across the shell of his ear as you purr. "-Little Bear?"
"Ngh" he whimpers, his hips unconsciously grinding against your hand.
With a wicked grin you release him long enough to slip you hand beneath the waistband of his shorts, and into his boxers. Your nimble fingers wrapping around the base of his thick cock. You give him a tentative tug. Delighting in the bedraggled breath that shutters from his lips.
"I said-" You growl lowly, squeezing around the base of his shaft. "-who's the captured one now Little Bear?"
"Ngh fuck" he groans as you swipe the pad of your thumb across the bulbous head of his cock. His head drunkenly lulling forward to rest against your shoulder, biting back a needy whine.
Ghosting your lips against the delicate skin at the crook of his neck. Fangs dragging along the top of his collarbone as you tsk disapprovingly at him. "Don't make me ask again Andrew." Each word punctuated by a pump of your fist over his hard length.
His grip on your already tattered dress tightens, a feral grown crawling free from within the cage of his chest. Using every ounce of will power he could muster, Andrew pulls your hand from inside his pants before slamming you back against the thick tree trunk. His hand naturally coming up to cushion the back of your head, protecting it from the impact.
"I do believe Little Fox-" He rumbles pining your hands above your head with his free hands. "-that you're still the captured one tonight."
His hand not currently pinning yours above your head snakes it's way up your body. Across your plush stomach, through the valley between your supple breast. Stopping to pinch at your nipples through the thin fabric of your dress before coming to rest around the long column of your neck.
Your throat bobbing beneath his palm as you swallow harshly, thighs squeezing together as arousal pools in your core. "There he is" you smirk, back arching towards him. The deep V of your dress taunting him as your breasts spill over the edge of your thin lace bra.
Smirking wickedly down at you he snarls "here I am Little Fox." Pinching at your pulse points as he leans forward pressing his lips to your jaw. Your mouth falling open in a silent gasp. "And here you are, caught in my little trap- " He pauses sniffing at the air, breathing in the thick, heady scent of your arousal. "-and so fucking wet for me."
"Always… fuck always for you" you pant breathlessly as his knee lodges itself between your strong thighs. Guiding you back against the thick, strong trunk of the weeping willow.
"That's my good Little Fox" he grins nipping at the lobe of your ear. "Now what am I going to do with you?"
The bark of the tree digs into your back as you grind down against his thick, solid thigh stuttering. "You said… shit… you said you wanted to… fuck… to taste me."
"Mmm I did, didn't I?" He hums nosing at the mating bite scarring your collarbone. His grip on your pulse points loosening ever so slightly.
Swallowing harshly you give him an eager nod, your pussy clenching around nothing in anticipation of his sinful tongue.
"Do you think you deserve my mouth after the stunt you just pulled?" He says, his voice low and predatorial as he sizes you up.
His lust filled muddy green gaze bores into yours, pulling a strangled whimper from your throat. A thrill of pleasure dances teasingly along your spine at the promise of him.
The relief from your earlier orgasm morphs into a roaring beast of pleasure, caged within the pit of your stomach as you plead. "I… fuck please… please I need your mouth… fuck I'll be good… I'll be so fucking good for you."
"So fucking eager for me" he chuckles darkly. "I suppose I can forgive your little stunt this one time Little Fox, but only because I won't deny myself of a feast fit for a king."
"Thank you… fuck thank you" you whine breathlessly, head tilted back exposing your throat to him.
Mischief dances in his predatorial gaze as he tsks "don't thank me just yet Killer."
You suck in a sharp breath, your ample chest heaving at the low timbre of his warning. Confusion and concern flickering in your eyes.
With a knowing smirk he releases your hands as he steps back from you momentarily. Moving to grab something from the other side of the old tree.
"Andrew?" You mumble, bewilderment flashing in your eyes as he reemerges with a pair of thick leather cuffs. The wide tan bands attached to a long, heavy metal chain dangling from his fingers.
"Tonight my Darlin'-" He says swinging one side of the cuffs over a sturdy, low hanging branch. "-you won't be the one doing the touching." He grins devilishly, gently taking one of your hands in his. Lifting it to the strap above your head, securing your wrist he repeats the process with your other hand adding. "Especially not after your little attempt at a power play."
You let out a soft indecipherable noise, squirming beneath his intense gaze.
His fingers slip beneath the leather bands wrapped around your wrists. Testing to make sure they weren't too tight. "Now what's your color?"
"Green" you reply, testing your restraints by wrapping the chain in your hands and pulling. The branch creaking softly under the force.
A mischievous smile spreads across his face as he praises "Good Girl."
Leaning in he presses a bruising kiss to your lips. A guttural groan looses itself from his lips as he slips his tongue into your mouth, sliding it against yours. Fangs gnashing against fangs as you battle for dominance.
Moaning into his mouth you yank desperately at your bindings. The branch groaning under your supernatural strength. Your hips cantering against his, desperate for any kind of friction you could muster.
Pulling away from your lips, his hands come up to grip either side of your dresses neckline chuckling. "Careful Killer or you'll break the tree before I even get a chance to taste you." His gaze flickers to lock on yours as he gives a hard tug. The fabric of your dress hissing as it yields beneath his hands, ripping down the front.
"Andy" you gasp as the cool night air assaults your already aching nipples. The now shredded blue fabric of your dress flopping to your sides as he tugs at it again. Ripping it straight down through the hem.
A mad grin flashes across his face as he takes in your wrecked, practically bare form growling "better."
The shredded fabric of your dress rustling behind your strung up form. Akin to a queens ceremonial mantle adorning your already glorious curves. Your breast heaving against the restraints of your bra, inviting him to devour his sovereign. And he, the ever diligent servant, would not deny his queen.
His deft fingers make quick work of the front closer hook of your black lace bra. Freeing your breasts for his eager mouth.
Mouth watering he kneels before you, eye level with your taut nipples he murmurs "may I?" His eyes locking on yours over the heaving swell of your breasts. His lips millimeters from your pebbled nipples.
"Please" you swallow harshly, your tongue poking out to wet your lips.
A hum of approval emanates from his throat as he leans forward to take one of your breast into his mouth. His hands finding their way to your hips, gripping them tight as he pins you against the trunk.
Humming he swirls his tongue around the hardened peak of your nipple. The dull edge of his incisors dragging across the sensitive nub.
Yanking at your bindings, the soft, thick leather biting deliciously into your wrists, a moan ripples from your parted lips. Your thighs press together in a desperate bid for friction.
Pulling away with a soft, wet pop, Andrew clicks his tongue disapprovingly at you. His lust blown eyes locking onto yours as he tsks "no, no, no, we can't be having that, now can we love?" His gaze still fixed on yours as his hands release your hips, moving to grip your thick, strong thighs.
Shooting a taunting wink at you he forces your legs apart. Exposing your aching cunt to the cold night breeze.
"Andy" you half whine, half gasp, writhing against the broad tree trunk.
"You're not in control tonight Little Fox, and it'll be all the better for you if you accepted that." He hums, leaning forward to press a kiss to your sternum keeping your legs spread around him.
You let out a disgruntled whine as he flicks his tongue across your nipple. His powerful hands diligently keeping your legs spread, and your aching core bare to the elements. You could feel him smile against your skin as he bites into the lower swell of your bottom heavy breasts. "Ass" you groan, pressing your breasts into his mouth.
With a low grumble he retracts his fangs to bite down on the pillow roll of your stomach. A wordless response to your insolent grumbling.
Once he was satisfied that you knew who was in charge Andrew guides your thighs to rest on his shoulders. Your dripping cunt on full display for him as he groans deplorably, "fucking perfection."
"Please" you whine, pressing your hips towards him. Desperate to have his mouth on you where you needed him most.
"So fucking impatient" he chuckles darkly, nipping at your plush inner thigh.
Gazing up at you from his sanctuary between your thighs, his eyes lock with yours as he blows a cool stream of air across your aching clit. A wicked grin spreading across his cheeks as you couldn't help but squirm and whimper at merely his breath on you.
Swallowing harshly you plead desperately "Andy… fuck I… please I need you."
His inner beast practically preens at your needy begging causing him to lose what little restraint he had left. With a low rumbling growl he surges forward. Stretching the muscles of your thighs as his broad shoulders press your knees up towards your breasts. Impossibly baring more of you for his eager mouth to devour.
And devour he did.
Licking a fat stripe from the base of your entrance up to your clit, groaning at the taste of you. "Jesus" he murmurs reverently into your aching cunt. His nose nuzzling against your clit. Tongue flattening over your core, lapping at you like a vampire dying of thirst.
"Shit… fuck" you gasp, rolling your hips against his face. Thighs fighting against his firm, bruising grip to clamp around his head.
His answering suck of your clit into his mouth pulls a sinful moan from your parted lips. The vibration of his feral groan against your clit shooting a ripple of pleasure up your spine.
"Fucking Hell!" You moan, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he drags the dull edge of his subdued canines over your clit.
His skillful tongue darts out to ease between your dripping folds. Groaning as your walls clench around the strong muscle. His nose rubbing at your clit as you writhe against him.
The sturdy branch above your head groans in warning as you test the limits of the chain binding your two leather cuffs together. Your pleasure blooming from an ember to a roaring flame as your climax grows nearer to bursting with each drag of his tongue.
Licking up through your folds, he sucks your clit back into his mouth. A bestial growl reverberates off your swollen nub, pulling the elastic band of your release tighter and tighter. The edges beginning to fray under the weight of his skilled mouth.
Desperately you grind against his mouth and nose, whining pitifully "Andrew fuck I… Jesus I'm close."
"Are you going to come for me like my good Little Fox?" He purrs, pulling back to look up at you from between your plush thighs. His lips and beard glistening with your slick in the pale moonlight floating in from the break in the canopy.
Swallowing harshly, your chest heaving with barely contained restraint as you pant pathetically. "Yes I… fuck I need more."
A delicious drag of his tongue over the length of your cunt was his only response. His diligent mouth quickly teetering you back over that euphoric edge.
"Fuck" you gasp, pulling at your leather cuffs with inhuman strength. The branch crackling dangerously above your head with each tug.
The roaring pit in your stomach bursts free of it's confines. The elastic band holding your climax at bay snapping as you crash over the edge of release.
Stars bursting behind your eyelids as you arch off the tree trunk, pressing into him as you keen "Andrew God!" The rough, hard bark biting into your skin through the thin fabric of your torn dress.
Greedily he laps at your cunt, swallowing as much of your release as he could. His powerful grip tightens around your thighs, tugging you impossibly closer to him with a feral groan.
Trying to pull away from his hungry mouth you put all your weight onto your restraints, whining desperately."Andy ngh… fuck too much."
With a loud, resounding crack the branch snaps. Finally giving way after holding up against your inhuman strength for the past however long Andrew had you tied up for.
With reflexes only afforded to him by a lifetime of being a vampire, Andrew swiftly pulls you down onto his lap. Allowing himself to fall backwards, he drags you out of it's path seconds before the branch could hit either of you.
Landing on top of him with a whoosh of air you gasp "fucking Christ!"
Wheezing Andrew sucks in a deep breath before shrugging. "Thank God it held up till after I was done."
The chain of your restraints rattles above your heads as you grumble "oh you… you fucker!"
A deep chuckle breaks free from his belly as you shove at his shoulders. Barely holding back giggles of your own as you roll off of him and onto the forest floor.
"Ah ah ah not so fast Little Fox, I never said I was done with you." He tsks, clicking his tongue disapprovingly at you. Rolling onto his side to face you, his hands finding their way to your hips. "Now c'mere" he grins, tugging you to him.
Letting him drag your body to him you squeal "Bear" in mock protest. The torn remnants of your dress trailing through the dirt behind you. They flop to your side as he pulls you back on top of him. Your knees straddling either side of his hips.
You lay there in silence for a while giving your body some time to come down from your orgasm. Your hands planted on his chest, his sliding worshipfully up and down your outer thighs.
"Have I told you how beautiful you are yet today?" He murmurs, fingers dancing across your bare lower stomach. Fingers reverent as they brushed over the silvery stretch marks marring your soft skin.
If someone were to ask him what his favorite painting was, he wouldn't say some well known artist's equally well known painting. He wouldn't even say one of his mother's, and she was certainly a master of her craft. No he would only ever think to mention the beauty that painted so much of your delicate skin.
Suddenly bashful you pull at the tattered fabric of your dress. Trying to cover yourself from him.
After fifty years spent immortalized in this body, and all the confidence that afforded you over the years. There were still moments where all of that hard earned confidence flew right out the window. And unfortunately right now was one of those moments.
"Don't" he sighs reaching up to cup your cheeks. Forcing you to look down into his searching eyes. "Please don't hide from me" he pleads softly. His hand not cupping your cheek, keeping your gaze on his, moves to gently pull your anxious fists free of your shredded dress.
Slowly shifting himself to a sitting position with you still straddling his hips he murmurs reverently "stunning." Plucking your lower lip free from between your teeth with the calloused pad of his thumb.
"Bear" you sigh, your hands flexing in and out of fists at your sides. Itching to cover yourself from his intense gaze.
Leaning into you he presses his lips adoringly against yours, his hands finding their way to your waist. With a sigh he pulls his lips from yours to rest his forehead against yours.
"I will spend the rest of my immortal life-" He hums moving to press his lips to your jaw. "-telling you, showing you, proving to you-" He punctuates each promise with a gentle, reverent kiss along your jaw and down the side of your neck. "-how utterly astounding I find you." Stopping to nuzzle at your mating mark he adds. "Even on days you know your worth I'll be there reminding you however I can."
Sighing, your chest caving beneath his attentive lips as your hands come up to cradle his head. You push softly at the sides of his head, forcing him to pull away from you as you mutter. "Andrew I-"
"Nope" he says cutting you off, popping the p exaggeratedly. Mischief twirling around the love and adoration in his hazel gaze.
You let out a quiet groan in mock protest "Bear." The metal chain still attached to your wrists rattling between your torsos as you squirm anxiously in his lap.
"Tonight I'm going to show you just how unequivocally divine you are." He murmurs, returning his lips to yours in a heated kiss that leaves no room for you to argue with his plans.
Sighing through your nose you admit defeat, melting into his kiss. Allowing him to deepen it, your hips unconsciously rocking towards him.
Humming against your lips his hands trail up your sides to push at the tattered fabric still resting on your shoulders. Slipping the short sleeves over your shoulders and down your arms, the straps of your unclasped bra trailing dutifully behind. The fabric snagging on the still present leather cuffs. Pulling a disgruntled grunt from him as he's forced to pull away from your lips.
"Infernal thing" he growls, tearing angrily at the offending leather bindings. Ripping them apart, much like he did your dress earlier, freeing your wrists. He tosses the now ruined cuffs away before quickly discarding your dress and bra. Leaving you completely bare on his lap.
A soft giggle ripples through your chest at his angry response to the small hiccup. "You're the one who put those on ya'know" you shrug, grinning mischievously down at him.
"Shut up" he grumbles, surging forward to latch onto your chest. His tongue swirling eagerly around the hardened peak of your nipple the skin pebbling beneath his touch.
You let out a sharp, shocked giggle, your hands finding their way to cradle his face once more. Holding him to you. His gripping tightening on your bare waist.
His lips trail diligently across your chest, murmuring every synonym for beautiful, in every language he knows, reverently against your skin.
Growling almost possessively against your sternum, breathing in your scent, he wraps his arms around your waist. Gracefully maneuvering your bodies to lay you down on the forest floor. Your legs wrapped firmly around his waist, his lips still sealed in supplication to your soft skin.
Preening at his attentions, your body arching off the ground to meet his lips as he trails words and kisses down your torso. Across every inch of skin he could reach. Some words uttered against your skin came from languages so old they'd gone extinct. Others from languages you knew such as German, Irish and French. Each word was uttered with more veneration than the last as he pressed his lips to every single mark painting your lower stomach.
"Andrew" you moan softly, squirming beneath him. His hands gripping your thighs as yours tug helplessly at his shirt trying to get it off.
Finale murmurs of schön, fίorálainn, étonnant and divine uttered against your skin before he pulls away from you. Sitting up he grabs at the collar of his shirt and tugs it up over his head.
"Better" he grins down at you, his chest finally bare for you.
A wide grin spreads lazily across your cheeks as you reach your hands up to card your fingers trough his sparse chest hair. "It'll be better when you've taken everything off" you say, voice low and teasing.
"That can be arranged" he smirks, pressing a searing kiss to your sternum before pushing himself up to stand. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts making quick work of his last remaining garments.
Propping yourself up on your elbows you watch intently as he sheds his shorts and boxers. Tossing them to the side to lay with the remnants of your dress before standing to his full height.
"Like what you see Little Fox?" He smirks down at you, tilting his head to the side like an inquisitive dog. His hardened cock hanging heavy between his legs.
Smiling sweetly up at him, your fangs glittering in the moonlight as you hum teasingly. "Why don't you come back down here and show me why I should enjoy it?"
Sinking to his knees before you he flashes you a devilish grin, fangs gleaming against his lower lip. "Minx" he rumbles, crawling towards you on all fours.
"You love it" you shrug as he slots himself between your spread thighs.
Pressing his lips to the side of your knee before nipping at your inner thigh he chuckles against your skin. "That is very much besides the point."
"Meh I think it's always the point" you shrug, widening the space between your legs for him. "Now are you done talking or…" you trail off, biting your bottom lip, mischief glittering in your eyes.
"Why you little…" he growls, hands grabbing at your sides. Pulling your hips flush with his as he playfully bites at your shoulder.
Squirming beneath him you squeal excitedly "Andrew!"
Rumbling Andrew playfully nibbles at your neck and jaw, growling against your skin. "You're going to eat your words you impatient little fox."
"Promises…… promises" you smirk, barely managing to stifle a giggle.
A low rumbling snarl breaks free of his chest in response. His fangs descending in what would normally be considered a threat, but to you it was a promise. His hand, not currently propping himself, moves from around your waist to slip between your bodies. Wrapping it around the base of his cock, he drags it teasingly between your dripping folds.
Squirming desperately beneath him you whimper "please."
Leaning down Andrew presses his lips to the hinge of your jaw, chuckling darkly. "Where did all your bravado go Little Fox?"
You bite back a feisty retort, squirming restlessly beneath him. The head of his cock catching against your entrance, slipping inside of you. A shocked gasp loosing itself from your kiss swollen lips at the sudden intrusion.
"Fuck" he groans as your walls clench eagerly around the tip of his cock. His hips unconsciously rocking into yours, easing more of his cock into you.
Wrapping your legs tighter around his waist, keeping him right where you wanted, where you needed him most. "Christ" you moan, your hips undulating desperately towards his.
Panting breathlessly from the restraint it took to keep from plunging all the way into your warmth, he tsks. "Ah ah ah not so fast Killer." His hand releasing his cock to grab at your waist, stilling your hips.
"Andrew" you whine in discontent, your hips fighting against his strong hold, greedy for more of him.
A cunning grin spreads across his cheeks, his cock still half buried inside of you as he taunts. "You're not in charge tonight Little Fox."
Leaning down he presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss pulling away only long enough to murmur. "And when have I ever not taken care of you my Little Fox?"
Sealing his lips to yours once again he snaps his hips forward, finally plunging the rest of the way into you. Burying himself up to the hilt with a guttural groan of your name.
You gasp in delighted shock, your back arching off the forest floor at the deliciously full feel of his cock buried inside of you.
Shallowly snapping his hips against yours, punctuating his growl. "I said, have I ever not taken care of you Maeve?"
"No… No you haven't" you stutter fighting against the urge to rock your hips.
"That's my good Little Fox" he praises, nipping at your collarbone as he slowly pulls out of you. Leaving just the tip in your welcoming warmth. "And I'm not about to start now" he groans, thrusting back into your wet, heat all the way to the hilt.
Your walls clamp greedily around him as the head of his cock drags across your g-spot, his hips setting a brutal pace. "Fucking Hell" you moan, rolling your hips against his. Meeting his hips with each of his strong, deliberate thrusts.
An amalgamation of sinful noises fills the sanctuary of the willow tree's branches. The wet crack of his skin slapping against yours. The utterly immoral noises tumbling from from both of your lips.
His powerful thrusts ramming you into the forest floor. The bite of small tree roots, and broken twigs digging into your skin the only thing keep you grounded amidst the all consuming presence of him. His scent flooding your senses. The all too familiar weight of his body as he ruts against yours. The full sensation of his cock as it drags rhythmically in and out, in and out.
Releasing your hip, allowing you to rock harder against him, Andrew surges forward to claim your breast with his mouth. His free hand coming up to palm your other breast as he groans against you. "Jesus you feel so fucking good. Like you were… fuck like you were made for me. Made for my cock."
"Just… God… just for you" you whine rutting up against him.
His hand leaves your breast and slides teasingly down your torso to spread your legs wider for him. Allowing his cock to plunge deeper into your core. The coarse hairs at the base dragging deliciously against your aching, swollen clit with each deeper thrust.
"Fuck yes you're… fuck just for me" he babbles incoherently against your skin. His mouth once more finding it's way to your mating bite. The physical proof of who you both belonged to.
In response to his claim over you, you rock your hips hard up against his. Your walls clamping around him as he drives into you.
His thumb finds it's way to the apex of your thighs to swirl around your clit. The action pulling a wailing keen from your lips as you gasp "Andrew!"
Switching his thumb for two of his long, skilled fingers, Andrew leans down to kiss, and nip at the skin of your neck, and shoulder snarling "mine."
"Yours" you gasp, swallowing harshly, gulping down mouthfuls of air. That all too familiar burning sensation began to build in the pit of your stomach. Quickly booming from a whoosh of flames to an all consuming roar at his diligent attentions. "Fuck Bear I… Jesus I'm close." You mewl, your hips spurring his to pick up their pace. Thrusting you further into the mix of grass, dirt and dead leaves covering the floor of your forest sanctuary.
"C'mon Little Fox, why don't you cum for me?" He hums, voice low and predatorial as his hips continue to grind against yours. Bringing you closer and closer to your promised release.
He pinches and rolls your clit expertly between his fingers, his hips faltering only slightly as his own release grew near. With one final snap of his hips he drops you right over that cliffs edge, into the abyss of release. Stars bursting behind your eyelids as you cry out "Christ Andrew!"
"Fuck that's it Love. Just… fuck just like that." He groans, hips continuing to piston you into the dirt as he chases his own orgasm. "Fuck… cum all over my cock. Claim me as yours."
"Ngh" you whine, arching against him as you rode out your high. Your fangs grazing against his throat, wordlessly begging for permission to bite.
Instinctively he cranes his neck to the side, wordlessly giving you permission to sink your fangs into him. Loosing a low primal growl, you sink your fangs into the crook of his neck. Sending him careening towards his own release.
His thrusts growing sloppy as he crashes through his orgasm, whimpering against your neck "fu…fuck Maeve."
His hips stuttering through the aftershocks of his climax. Your walls milking him for everything he had to offer as you drank greedily from his neck.
"God Killer that was… fuck why haven't we tried this sooner?" He pants breathlessly into the crook of your neck, his nose nuzzling into your scent.
Pulling away from his neck, you lick gently at the wound caused by your fangs, healing it instantly before sighing contentedly. "Next time I get to chase you."
"Ngh" he whimpers softly. A sudden thrill of pleasure rolling down his spine at the prospect of being your prey.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you Bear?" You hum, nipping playfully at the small lobe of his ear.
Swallowing harshly, he nods eagerly against your shoulder, his arms slipping beneath your torso, to wrap around your waist. Securing you to him. His cock, now softening, still buried inside of you as he rolls the both of you so that you're now laying on top of him. His back now pressed to the cold forest floor.
You lay in content, companionable silence for awhile. The only sounds filling your sanctuary being the soft rustle of wind through the willow's drooping branches, and the odd chitter from nearby woodland creatures. Your breaths coming in slow and even as the beats of your hearts fell into a syncopated rhythm. His fingers trailing lazily up and down your spine as yours draw random shapes and patterns into his chest.
"I know what you did by the way" you murmur drowsily against his skin. Your eyes transfixed on your fingers as they danced across his chest.
Bending his neck he brushes his lips across the crown of your head humming. "Oh, and what exactly do you think I did?"
"I know you chased me to this spot specifically. Though I admit I thought I had the upper hand until I saw our spruce." You reply, lips ghosting over his sternum, the sparse chest hair tickling at your nose.
"Hmm I was wondering when you'd notice my plan." He says, voice low and soft, as he rest his head back against the forest floor. His gaze trailing through the small gap in the top of the weeping willow. Watching as the glow of the full moon was swallowed by a thick plum of clouds. "Though I wonder, have you figured out why I wanted to take you here?"
Propping yourself up on his chest to look down at his face, your hands resting on either side of his head, you reply. "Other than the fact that it's our tree and it has been our tree since you first showed me these woods twenty years ago. Admittedly no."
A cunning yet equally mischievous grin spreads over his features as he replies. "Close Little Fox but not quite."
"What other reason could there be Andrew?" You ask, confusion scrunching between your brows as you raise one to him in question.
Delight from having outsmarted you twinkles in his swampy green eyes as he chuckles. "Why don't I show you what you missed?"
What is there to show me Andrew? I already saw the tree before you found me here and there was nothing to see." You scoff indignantly at his self assured response.
"No my Darlin' you looked but you so clearly did not see." He smirks, maneuvering your bodies so he could sit up with you still perched in his lap. A soft hiss coming from both of you at the sudden reminder of his softened cock still buried inside of you.
With a disgruntled huff you carefully move off of him, moaning softly at the sudden empty feeling between your legs. Standing on somewhat shaky legs you roll your shoulders, and stretch your spine sighing in mock resignation. "Fine oh Wise One do show me what I supposedly missed."
"With pleasure" he beams, leaning over to press a kiss to your hip. His hands naturally splaying across your waist. Breathing in your scent like an addict would their vice, he groans pulling away from you to stand.
Wordlessly he stalks over to where he'd discarded your clothing earlier. Bending over to grab his clothes and your bra from the forest floor before handing you the bra along with his boxers and shirt.
A grin, sheepish yet proud, spreading across his flushed cheeks at your knowing glance as you accept the offered clothes. "You could just give me my own underwear back ya'know?" You chuckle, pulling his t-shirt over your head. The fabric stretching around your soft curls as you bend to pull his boxers up your bare legs.
"No can do Killer, those were given freely to me. Therefore they're mine now." He beams, patting the pocket of his track shorts mischievously.
You bark out a laugh crossing your arms over your chest scoffing. "God you're such a fucking Perv."
Shrugging unphased by your comment he says "sue a vampire because he likes his mate's scent."
"Alright creep, show me what I'm supposedly missing." You sigh, biting back a giggle as you wave your hand dismissively in the direction of the massive spruce.
"The ladies wish is my command." He replies, mockingly bowing before you, his hand outstretching towards you in offering.
Giggling softly at his antics, you accept his proffered hand. Allowing him to pull you through the willow's branches, back towards the towering sitka spruce.
Your vampiric speed making quick work of the four kilometers between you, and the tree as you slow to a walk about half a kilometer from the tree. Andrew turning to face you as you approached your destination. Stopping you a few meters back from the trunk, he pulls you into his body. Spinning both of you to put your back to the tree. Keeping your attention on him.
"Andrew-" You scoff, squirming in his arms. "-you better not have brought me over here just to look at you so help me God."
A cheshire grin spreads across his cheeks as he chuckles. "You've gotta trust the process Killer."
"Trust the process my ass you just don't want to admit I was right and you were wrong." You huff, rolling your eyes at him in annoyance.
Scoffing he twists you around in his arms, a hand gently placed under your chin, guiding your gaze up towards the canopy, he snickers. "Who's the wrong one again?"
"Bear…" you gasp, taking in the beginnings of what you could tell would be an impressive tree house in the middle of your spruce. "You… when? How?"
"Only a few months ago. The crew just started construction about two weeks ago." He replies, pulling you impossibly tighter to him. His hands finding their way beneath his t-shirt you were wearing to rest against your bare stomach. "I ehm… I hope you like it. I was going to ehm… to wait until it was built and what not but ehm… I was too excited." He stutters bashfully, his thumb swiping absentmindedly across your soft skin
Quietly sniffling you turn in his arms to face him once more. Smiling teary eyed up at him you reach up to cup his cheeks murmuring. "Bear I fucking love it. We've been talking about doing this for so fucking long now, I'm so fucking glad we're finally doing it."
"Me too" he laughs, cupping your jaw as he leans down to kiss your lips. "I followed your blueprints by the way-" he hums against your lips. "-and now that you know,-" He sucks in a long breath, sealing his lips with yours once again before finishing. "-you can make sure everything is done to your specifications."
Pulling away from his mouth, you wrap your arms around his neck smiling. "Oh so you get to see me in architect mode?"
Back when you were human you had been a highly sought after architect. Mainly focusing on revitalizing Victorian era and older buildings, along with the occasional new age project to keep you on your toes.
You'd trained under your father who in turn was trained under the likes of Franklin Lloyd Wright. His wife having taken a shine to you also taught you a lot of what you knew. You had a brother who your father originally wanted to train, but Colum had no interest for architecture. And you on the other hand would spend every possible second in your father's office watching and soaking in everything he said and did.
It was something you had to give up thirty years ago when your lack of ageing could no longer be explained. Forcing you back to Andrew's home in Ireland. Your only comfort was knowing you'd be able to do it again someday when the coast was clear.
"I know you miss it, so I figured this would be a good way to satisfy that need until you could pick it back up again." He murmurs, swiping the pad of his thumb across your cheek. Brushing away a tear you hadn't realized you'd shed.
"Thank you" you whisper, voice barely audible through your happy tears.
Releasing your jaw to wrap his arm back around your waist, he tips his head down to nuzzle against your neck. "Anything for you. Always."
"I love you" you sigh, cradling the back of his head as you melt into his embrace. Holding him tightly to you.
"I love you too" he murmurs, kissing your t-shirt clad shoulder. "Now how about round two?" He grins, nipping at the lobe of your ear.
"Oh?" you question, pulling back to look up at him, your brows furrowing slightly.
Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at you he beams "tag you're it!" His long, slender pointer finger reaching out to tap the tip of your nose. Shooting you a wink he takes off at a sprint back towards your home. Leaving you alone, standing next to your tree, gawking after his already half disappeared form.
A wicked grin unfurls across your cheeks as you take off after him, calling out. "I'm going to catch you Byrne. Then it'll be my turn to play."
His only reply being a taunt of "nana nana boo boo you can't catch me!" A childish giggle floating to you on the breeze as your centuries old mate teased you like a child would another at the local playground.
You couldn't suppress your own childish giggle as you laid on more speed. Chasing your mate through the woods, back to your home.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Warnings: mention of feeding, the mention of sex, kisses, cursing.
Mostly fluff.
It had been awhile since he last seen sun, since he last roamed the earth as one with instead of one against, since he last breathed the same air that you could as well, knowing that every breath he took was closer to an end, rather than he was on the edge of each and every breath. He knows that his entire existence of being one defines the laws against physics and that he does not deserve the idea of living or living with one another, but in these moments, in the quiet nights, in these soft spoken words, you were his. And that's all he could ever appreciate. Knowing that he won't corrupt you knowing that you were safe, knowing that despite the differences between you and him, you couldn't be touched, or so he thought. His head laid on your lap, despite never being able to see or feel the sun again, he does remember how light it was and how it made him feel so utterly amazing, but now you were his sun, and that was okay, your hands gently tussled through his autumn curls, a hum of contentment escaped his ever so grateful lips. His eyes fluttered closed, enjoying this moment. Finally, you spoke, "My love?" Your voice brought his attention back to you. "Mo chroí.." He called out in response. You smiled, your lips curling around your teeth before asking, "Are you hungry, baby?" In response, he shook his head no, finally peering up at you through his eyelashes. "Mo chroí.." This time, he was calling for you, you giggled softly, your smile now splitting your cheeks. "Yes?" He allowed the silence to fill the space, before finally responding. "I need you.." He murmured, sitting up slightly, turning over to push you back onto the mattress. His lips pressing against yours in a soft lingering kiss. The kind that makes a shiver run down your spine, before gently nibbling at your bottom lip with the tip of his fangs. "Mo chroí, Tá an-tóir orm ort, lig dom tú a bheith agam?" He inquires, you gently pull him into you. "Darling, you know I don't speak Gaelic." He chuckled softly, the air curling around you, his eyes meet yours, the gold in his flickering over the brown orbs. Before he gently presses another kiss to your jawline. "It's okay.. " he murmurs in a soft Irish tilt, finally getting off you, pulling you over him into a cuddle. "What's okay?" You ask, as his hands wrap around your waist. "Don't worry about it Mo chroí." he states, a hint of playfulness gracing his Irish tilt. He pulls you over him once more before turning slightly so you both were on your side. "Sleep, Mo chroí, I'll be here in the morning."
He promises placing a kiss on your head. And he always will be for as long as he lives.
tags: Plus Size Reader, period sex, PIV Sex, Unprotected Sex (wrap it folks), Oral (f-receiving), face riding, they're both vampires, blood, blood marks for mating ritual, technically some self harm but it's only for a mating ritual and they can heal themselves on comand, breeding kink, Dom/Sub, Andrew and reader are both switches
words: 11k+
AO3
You can read it through the link above or under the cut
Likes and Comments are always welcome and greatly appreciated they fuel my writing
Feast
You thought becoming a vampire meant you no longer had to deal with this shit. But no you still had to deal with the bleeding, the hot flashes, the hormonal imbalances, and worst of all the cramps. You'd had bad enough cramps when you were human. You'd stupidly thought being a vampire would ease them, but something about your genetic make up as a vampire made them about a thousand times worse.
So here you were on a surprisingly warm and sunny Saturday afternoon. Holed up in your bedroom curled into as tight of a ball as you could manage. Gritting your teeth to hold back the tears. Your fangs, which you didn't have any control over in this state, cut into your bottom lip. Dark crimson droplets pooling around your sharp ivory canine.
One second you were freezing to the point of chattering teeth, then the next you were so hot you could've sworn your skin was boiling off. No amount of human medication helped you anymore. Not that it really helped before.
Andrew tried to do everything he within his power to ease your pain. Unfortunately no amount of O negative, lower back massages, warm bubble baths, or, your favorite, using him as a weighted blanket could eased the pain enough. So you locked yourself in your room and rotted in your bed for a couple days.
"Feeling any better love?" Andrew asks softly, crawling into your nest of pillows and blankets. One of his large hands coming to rest on your hip while the other cups your cheek.
"No" you grumble, instinctively burrowing into his unnaturally cold embrace.
Sighing through his nose he pulls you tighter against him. His nose buried into your curls, lips pressed to your temple. "I'm sorry love, is there anything I can do?"
"Hold me" you mumble quietly. Licking the wounds on your lip closed before shoving your face into his chest. "It's bullshit that I can heal wounds with my saliva, but one fucking menstrual cycle knocks me on my ass."
"C'mere" he chuckles softly against your temple. His knuckles instinctively pressing into your lower back trying to ease the pain.
Hissing against his broad chest as another stabbing pain rips it's way though your gut. "Fucking Christ, I'm over this shit" you whine pitifully.
"I know Sweetheart, I know" he sighs, pressing the pads of his fingers into the small of your back. Rubbing your burning skin in slow, soothing circles. "You hungry? You should probably feed soon."
Shaking your head you let out a pathetic whimper wrapping your arms tight around your stomach. Willing the pain to end already. "Not hungry."
"Ah c'mon love you need to feed. It's not healthy for you to have gone this long as is without blood." Sighing he leans back to look down at you. His thumb brushing along your lower lip, grazing your extended fangs.
Grimacing you bury your face into the cool silken fabric of your pillow. Hiding from his knowing hazel eyes. "It hurts too much. I can't."
"I know it hurts love but you've gotta eat something." he sighs puncturing his thumb on your fang. Allowing the fresh scent of iron to flood your senses.
"Andy" you warn, your pupils blown from hunger. Leaving nothing but a thin ring of hazel against a pool of obsidian.
Allowing his thumb nail to lengthen into a claw. Andrew carefully slices his palm open inviting you to drink from him. "You either drink from me or I go downstairs and get you a bag of whatever we have left." He warns brushing his still bleeding thumb against your lower lip.
"I don't want to drink from you. I don't have that kind of energy right now." You sigh licking at his wound, sealing it back up. Humming contently at the taste of him.
Sighing he presses a quick kiss to your forehead. "Alright I'll be right back. Any preferences?"
"You know what I like." You shrug limply curling back in on yourself as another pain grips you.
Slipping from the bed he squeezes your hip gently. "I'll be right back Mo Grá."
You let out a soft pitiful grunt in reply. The meaty palm of your hands digging into the plump flesh of your thighs. Trying and failing to easy the pain that has since spread from your lower belly down your legs.
Biting back tears you press your face into your pillow once more. "Ngh fucking Christ" you moan, voice cracking softly at your pain.
For the couple minutes it takes for Andrew to heat up your bag of blood you lay curled up into the fetal position. Hands pressed into your thighs. Pain so severe the only thing keeping you from being sick was your slow and deliberate breathing. Despite your cold flash you couldn't bring yourself to move far enough to pull a blanket over your shivering form.
"Alright Love this should help with the temperature fluctuation." Andrew calls stepping back into the dimly lit room. His vampiric senses allowing him to see your shivering form even in the almost pitch black of the room. "A positive was all we had left. I hope that's alright. I know it's not your favorite but I haven't had a chance to make a supply run in a few days." He rambles crawling into the bed with the warmed up mug of blood.
Taking a deep breath you push yourself up into a seated position. "It's fine Bear. I probably wont be able to stomach much anyways." You sigh, your whole body shivering from the cold.
He nods handing you the warm mug of crimson liquid. "I know but I need you to try and stomach at least this mugful. I only warmed you up half a pint." He sighs wrapping one of your favorite throw blankets around your shoulders.
Taking a deep breath you pull a small sip of blood into your mouth. Sighing into the mug, you let the warm metallic liquid to flood your senses before tentatively taking a longer sip. Your pupils blown wide once more as the blood, heated up to the perfect body temperature, floods your system.
"That at least a little bit better Darlin'?" He murmurs swiping a bead of blood off your lower lip.
"Mhm a little bit. Still don't think I'll be able to stomach more than this." You reply softly, watching intently as he sucks his blood covered thumb clean.
Leaning forward he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. One of his hands cupping your jaw while the other rests on your hip, he murmurs "That's alright Killer. I just needed you to take in something. I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but it'll definitely help in the long run."
"D'you want some? When was the last time you fed?" You mumble into the mug, hungrily taking in more of the ruby liquid.
"Don't worry about me I fed this morning. I called Alex earlier he said he got a shipment in of fresh AB positive and negative." He sighs squeezing your hip as you take another mouthful of the blood. "I'll probably slip out, here in a bit to refill our stock. I just wanted you to feed first."
Swallowing you smile sweetly up at him. Blood painting your pearly whites. Dripping onto your lower lip as you set the now empty mug on your nightstand.
Softly he wipes the smeared blood off your lip and cheek with his thumb. "Can't take you anywhere" he chuckles sucking the blood from his finger.
"Nope" you grin quirking a brow at him as you suck your fangs clean.
Dragging his hands down your thighs he murmurs, "feeling any better? Do you think you can handle anymore?"
Leaning forward you press your lips to his in a soft sweet kiss. "I mean my uterus is still trying to murder me, if that's what you're asking? But no I don't think I can do anymore. Not until this pain eases at least." You sigh scooting into his lap.
"I mean there are some ways I've heard that aren't exactly what one would considered conventional." He says, innocently tucking your head beneath his chin.
"Oh?" You hum curling one arm around your stomach. Your free hand drawing intricate patterns onto his bicep. "And what prey tell, would those unconventional methods be?"
Fingers dancing along your bare forearm, he purrs "well…"
"Well?" You ask bending your neck back, you look up at him questioningly.
Craning his neck to meet your inquisitive gaze he replies. "Well I was doing some research and scientists say that an orgasm can help easy period pain."
"Is that so?" You ask crawling out of his lap so you could look at him more fully.
His hand that was trailing along your forearm makes it's way to rest upon your stomach, right below your navel. His thumb rubbing soothingly back and forth across your abdomen he hums "Mhm, yeah. Something to do with endorphins that are released.
"Mmm as pleasant as that sounds I doubt one orgasm will do me any good." You sigh softly patting his bearded cheek.
Allowing one of his fangs to graze against the shell of your ear , he purrs. "I for one am more than willing to find out how many orgasms it takes for your pain to cease."
The deep lustful timbre of his voice sending a thrill of pleasure down your spine. You bite your lip gazing up at him once more. "And how do you plan on doing that Big Guy?"
"Well first…" he hums planting a kiss along your jaw right below your ear. "I'm feeling a bit parched so I think I'll start with my favorite meal." He grins flashing your his fangs as he purrs "you."
"Then?" You gasp breathlessly, leaning your head to the side granting him more access to your soft, delicate skin.
Chuckling darkly he retracts his fangs to nip at your skin without drawing blood. He was savoring that moment for later. "Then I think I'll have seconds. Maybe even thirds. You know, because I deserve a treat." He purrs, his fingers finding their way beneath your sleep shirt. Trailing along your soft plump stomach.
"Wha- fuck… what about you?" You shiver, your hand pressing against his soft lower belly. Inches from his already hardening cock.
"Don't worry about me Darlin', my only concern right now is you." He says pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "And that concern can only be quelled by making you cum so many times you won't be able to walk straight for weeks."
You giggle as he grins goofily down at you. "I don't know how you managed to make such a horny statement so fucking cheesy."
"It's my secret superpower." He beams down at you flashing his long, sharp canines, "comes with these."
"Oh yeah" you breath, nails scratching at the sparse hair trailing along his lower stomach. "I'd like to see you try Bear."
Grinning devilishly down at you Andrew snaps his teeth at you. "You're going to eat your words Killer."
"Good" you smirk, flashing your own canines at him "make me."
"You little fucking Minx." He growls, swiftly pushing you off his lap to kneel above you on the bed.
You let out a shocked squeal as your back hits the mattress with a soft thump. "You love it."
"That…" he hums lips pressed to the long column of your throat. "Is. Besides. The. Point." He murmurs between wet open mouthed kisses.
Slipping your leg between his, you press your knee against the tent forming in his sweats. "That kinda feels like the point to me" you grin, biting your lower lip.
"Fucking Christ" he groans against your pulse point. His fangs unintentionally nicking the thin skin there, drawing blood. "Jesus" he practically whimpers, tongue instinctively poking out to lick at the wound. Healing it within seconds, he groans hungrily at the taste of you.
"For a vamp who claims to be so parched you sure do seem to be taking your good old time." You purr grinding against his thigh. Your knee pressing harder against his straining cock.
Groaning into the crook of your neck, "I like to play with my food before I enjoy it." He murmurs, his hands finding their way beneath your t-shirt once more. Pushing it up to expose your soft, full stomach.
"Oh yeah? Did your mam never teach you that it's impolite to play with your food?" You smirk arching into him as he exposes more and more of your midsection.
"She did but that doesn't mean it stuck" he shrugs. His gaze glued onto his fingers dancing delicately across your quivering stomach.
Goosebumps raise across your skin as he leans down to lick a stripe up your stomach. "Cle- fuck… clearly" you gasp arching up into his mouth.
He sucks one of your nipples into his eager mouth with a desperate groan. One of his hands finding it's way beneath you, palming the small of your back. Holding you tight against him.
"Fucking gorgeous" he groans against your full breast. His hand not on your back, grips your plush hip leaving shallow, crescent shaped, marks in it's wake.
"Andy" you whine, tugging desperately at his loose unruly curls.
Grinning he nips at the side of your breast practically growling "patience Killer."
A shiver snakes it's way down your spine. "Need you." you keen pitifully, hopelessly trying to pull him tighter against you. An intense need to have him as close a physically possible suddenly over taking you.
"I'm right here baby" he hums kissing his way down your bare stomach. "Be right back" he chimes patting your thigh before quickly hopping off the bed.
"Andrew" you gasp disgruntled at his sudden departure.
Chuckling Andrew reaches out to drag the tips of his finger up your heaving stomach. "You're just so impatient" he tsks, his eyes trailing after his fingers dancing along on your skin.
"You can't just turn me on then suddenly leave. What happened to making it hard for me to walk?" You huff writhing on the bed, squeezing your thighs tightly, desperate for any kind of friction.
"Oh trust me love that's still the plan. I just have to grab a towel first." He hums pinching one of your nipples between his forefinger and thumb.
Your back arches involuntarily, pressing your breast against his large calloused hand gasping "why?"
Leaning down he presses a kiss to the shell of your ear murmuring. "Because Killer even though I don't plan on wasting a single fucking drop of you. I don't feel like changing the sheets when I've had my fill of you."
You let out a pitiful indistinguishable noise in protest. Ultimately letting him slip into the ensuite to grab a clean towel.
"You're so pretty all spread out for me." He hums coming back into the bedroom to find you down to just your panties waiting for him. "So fucking pretty."
"Quit talking and get over here already." You huff holding your hand out to him. Beckoning him to you.
Smirking devilishly at you he shuffles towards the bed accepting your outstretched hand. "I need you to stand up for me Love" he murmurs, bending to kiss the back fo your hand.
"M'kay" you mumble allowing him to pull you up to a standing position beside the bed.
Unable to help himself Andrew bends down to graze his fangs across your neck, humming in delight. "You smell utterly divine. If it weren't for the fact that you haven't fed properly all day I'd have a taste."
"I mean you can still have a taste." You murmur leaning your head away from him. Offering up the long column of your throat to his eager fangs.
"Don't tempt me Killer" he breaths nose nuzzling against your thumping pulse point.
Head still tipped back, an open mouthed grin spreads across your cheeks as you lean into his embrace. "C'mon you know you want to Baby."
Tossing the towel on the bed he grips your waist pulling you flush against him with a deep primal growl. "Of course I fucking want to. Every single fucking atom in my being wants to." he groans, calloused hands roaming across your smooth skin. Desperately gripping at every inch of supple flesh he could find.
"Then do it" you hum, pressing your bare breasts tight to his t-shirt clad chest invitingly.
"Not tonight" he pants into your skin forcing his fangs to retract. Fingers flexing against your hips as he fights his natural instincts to feed.
Sighing he forces himself away from you to finish preparing the bed. He pulls back the covers shoving them to the end of the bed before carefully laying down the dark navy towel.
Hand outstretched he turns to face you once he's satisfied with his job murmuring "c'mere."
Accepting his proffered hand allowing him to tug you back into his embrace. "Mmm hi" you murmur leaning up to press your lips to his in a soft sweet kiss.
"Hello Killer" he smiles. His hands trailing down to grip the back of your plump thighs, lifting you effortlessly. Instinctively guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. He gently carries you the last few steps to your shared bed, softly laying you back down on the mattress.
"You're wearing too much" you sigh. Your hands slipping down his t-shirt clad chest as he moves to stand above your prone form beside the bed.
Chuckling he steps back to slip his sleep shirt over his head, tossing it haphazardly towards his desk. Stepping back up to the bed he bends to press a gentle kiss to the valley between your breasts murmuring "better?"
"Getting there" you him, biting your lower lip. Your fingers reaching out to hook your pointer finger into the waistband of his sweats.
Smirking he lets you tug him towards you by the waistband slung low on his hips. "You're so demanding" he chuckles, hooking his own thumbs into the waistline of his sweats pushing them down his legs.
"Meh you love it" you shrug, sitting up on your elbows. Watching eagerly as he finally crawls back onto the bed between your legs clad in just his dark gray Calvin Kleins.
"That-" he starts pressing a gentle kiss to your shin "-is once more-" another kiss finds it's way to your knee "-besides the point." He finishes before sucking a mark into soft skin of the inside of your thigh.
A shudder works it's way dow your spine. Your body arching off the bed towards him. Legs naturally spreading wider to accommodate his broad, strong shoulders. "Please" you plead already breathless from his attention.
Andrew clucks his tongue softly at you. His fangs extending to graze against the soft, supple skin of your inner thigh. His long, slender fingers dancing across your skin making their way to the waistline of your dark blue period panties.
"May I?" He murmurs resting his cheek against the plush inside of your thigh. His plump lower lip caught beneath one of his extended fangs as he gazed inquisitively up at you.
"Mhm" you nod eagerly, your hungry gaze locked on his even hungrier one.
In a flash he slices the supple skin of your inner thigh with the edge of his fang, pulling a shocked gasp from your parted lips. "Words Killer" he warns in a low growl, licking the wound shut.
"Yes" you sigh, angling your hips towards him. Inviting him to pull the last layer of cloth from your skin.
"Good girl, now lift your hips for me Baby." He murmurs moving to kneel between your spread legs.
Wordlessly you lift your hips far enough off the bed for Andrew to gently tug your panties over your hips. His lips trailing down your long legs, following in the wake of your panties as he pulls them clean off.
Tossing your panties to the floor he lets out a shuddering breath, taking you in. "Fucking Gorgeous" he sighs, slipping his hands up your bare thighs. The rough callouses of his palms leaving goosebumps in their wake.
"You know-" You sigh squirming beneath his intense gaze. "-before becoming a vampire, I never would've let a man anywhere near me like this. Not while on my period at least."
His hazel gaze rakes down your body, taking in your naked form, almost as though appraising you he responds. "I can honestly say even as a born vampire I never thought about it before you."
"What made you change your mind. It can't have just been me." You murmur suddenly nervous about the prospect of what lies ahead.
"I was reading an article last night while you were asleep. Fell down a rabbit-hole." He shrugs, fingers skating closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. "It said that orgasms can ease the pain of your cramps, and you should know by now that there isn’t much I wouldn't do for you."
A warm familiar sensation of utter devotion washes over you as you gaze up at him. "You ridiculous man" you say a loving smile spread across your cheeks.
"I'm your ridiculous man" he grins, shooting you a suggestive wink. "Plus being a vampire has it's perks when it comes to blood."
"You know it's not strictly blood right?" You chuckle quirking a brow at him questioningly.
Shrugging two of his fingers finally find their way to your clit as his lips ghost against your pillowy soft stomach. He murmurs "semantics" out the side of his mouth, lips pressed to your skin as you arch into his touch.
"You have to… fuck… you have to take my… Christ…" You stutter grinding against his fingers.
"Ssh baby don't worry I know." He murmurs slipping his index finger inside of you. Quickly locating the rubber tab at the base of your menstrual cup. "Let me take care of you Killer. Trust me." He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your knee as he moves his thumb to assist his pointer finger in easing the cup out.
Angling your hips down to assist him, you chuckle breathlessly, "where the hell did you learn this?"
"I am but a vampire very dedicated to his craft" he grins carefully pulling the cup free. The strong metallic scent of fresh blood flooding his system, forcing his fangs to burst free and his pupils to dilate. Swallowing his irises whole.
"Andrew-" you whisper eyeing him suspiciously unsure of his next move.
He flashes his sharp, pointed, canines at you in a devilish grin before tossing the cup of menstrual blood back like taking a shot of his favorite whiskey. His blood hungry gaze never leaving your lust blown one as he haphazardly tosses the cup to floor to be sanitized later.
Watching the pink rubber cup go flying you huff at his antics. "You're lucky I have more than one of those."
He shrugs unphased by your warning knowing he'd be the one who ended up taking care of it later. His tongue pocking out to lick at the deep crimson pooling at the edges of his lips.
Flashing his blood soaked fangs at you he grins, "now where were we?"
Your knees instinctively spread to better accommodate his broad form. Wordlessly answering him with a mockingly disappointed click of your tongue. With a sly grin you pull him down for one last kiss before releasing him to settle between your legs once more.
Hazel eyes flashing with want he settles back down between your legs. Pressing his lips to the inside of your knee humming, "ah yes my favorite place to be." His arms naturally slipping beneath your legs to wrap around your waist. Pulling you to him with a low rumble so low in his chest it could pass off as a feral growl.
"Andy" you gasp as his nose finds it's way to your clit. Pressing into you as his tongue laps hungrily at your dripping cunt. "Can I… fuck… can I ride your face?"
"Please" he groans pulling back to press a reverent kiss to your thigh. His lips already glistening with a mix of your slick and blood.
He gazes up at you still nestled between your spread thighs, looking like nothing short of a feral beast. Pupils blown wide with an amalgam of blood thirst and lust. His long, sharp canines piercing his lower lip drawing his own blood to mix with yours across his plump lower lip.
A tremor of pleasure crawls it's way up your spine as you shuffle to a sitting position on the bed. Huffing out a warning to him, "you better put those things away before you come near me again. I'm not having you cut me by accident."
Wincing slightly Andrew retracts his fangs muttering "Right ehm sorry," before flopping onto his stomach.
"Thank you" you say, moving to his side of the bed allowing him to inch up the bed.
Still on the protective, navy towel he'd laid down earlier, Andrew settles onto his back near the headboard. Your pillow tossed haphazardly to the floor so he could lie completely flat.
Wordlessly beckoning you to him with a brush of his long fingers against your thick, strong thigh. A desperate look of pleading mixed with a storm of lust in the intricate swirls of his brown-green hazel eyes. "C'mere Killer" he breathes.
Reaching out you splay your freshly manicured nails through his sparse chest hair. Leaning into the warmth of him. You'd barely even done anything, and yet somehow you were already feeling lighter. The stabbing pain that had been plaguing you all day beginning to weaken with each anticipated move.
Smiling wickedly at him you lean over, hand still braced on his chest, to ghost your lips across his. "You know what they say?" You murmur centimeters from his lips. Noses brushing as you teased him.
"Mmm what do they say?" He rumbles lowly. Voice barely above a whisper as he fought the urge to surge forward and claim your lips.
"Save a horse-" you hum, your fangs bursting forth to puncture his lower lip. "- ride a vampire." You murmur finally pressing your lips to his, sweeping your tongue out to lick at his puncture wounds. Sealing them. Humming in delight as the taste of his blood fills your senses.
Groaning against your lips his hands find their way to your supple hips. Gripping you tightly he tugs you to him with a growl "saddle up Killer."
Pulling away from his lips, you sit back flashing your fangs at him. Allowing him to guide you to straddle his head. Each knee pressed into the mattress on either side of his head, your thighs pressing against his ears. Hovering over his face, not wanting to sit your full weight on him.
"I said-" he growls low in his chest, fangs erupting from his mouth, he nips at your thigh "- saddle up." He practically roars biting into the meaty flesh of your inner thigh. His large, calloused, hands slipping up your thighs to grip your ass, pulling you closer to him.
"Fuck" you hiss, falling forward to brace against the headboard.
Greedily he sucks in a mouthful of your sweet, metallic blood with a wanton groan. "Christ" he huffs pulling away from your thigh, instinctively licking the wound shut.
Without warning he tightens his grip on your hips, pulling you down to settle on his face. His nose pressed against your aching clit, tongue flattening against your drenched cunt.
"Jesus" you moan, your hips unconsciously grinding against his mouth. Thighs quivering with each delicious drag of his nose against your clit.
Groaning into your pussy he laps at you like a vampire starved. His fingers digging impossibly harder into your soft supple skin. His nails stretch into claws, biting into your skin. Leaving angry, red crescent shaped marks as he guides your hips to grind harder against him.
With a strangled groan your nails lengthen into claws, biting into the dark oak of the headboard as he swirls the tip of his tongue around your sensitive clit. Sending you racing towards your first of many promised orgasms.
Your hips picking up their pace, using him for your own pleasure pulling a desperate whine from your parted lips. Releasing the headboard you reach down to bolster yourself with a hand buried in his unruly curls.
"Fuck Baby I… shit I'm so fucking close" you stutter breathlessly, grinding down against his mouth.
You can feel him grin against your aching cunt. The only warning you receive before he presses the tip of his tongue into your tight entrance. His dull incisors dragging against your swollen clit with each grind of your hips. Sending you careening into your first orgasm of the night.
A euphoric keening crawls it's way out of your throat as your orgasm washes over you in waves. "Christ Andrew" you gasp, chest heaving with the effort.
His large hands continue to guide your hips as he sucks greedily at your clit. Relentless in his pursuit to bring you release.
"Andy" you croon, thighs quaking with each guided drag of your hips against his eager mouth. Your second orgasm creeping up on you fast, riding the coat tails of your first.
Pulling away from your aching cunt he nips at your inner thigh reverently murmuring "cum for me Killer."
"Fuck Andy" you gasp writhing above him as his tongue finds it's way back to your clit.
He growls into you, swirling his tongue roughly around your clit. Nails dig into your skin, drawing blood as he pulls you impossibly closer to him.
The dull ache of his nails biting into your skin mixes deliciously with the thrum of pleasure coursing through your veins. You gasp "Jesus Andy I-" greedily grinding your hips down against his mouth "-fuck I'm close."
With a hungry groan he sucks your clit into his mouth, dragging his dull incisors across the sensitive bud. Sending you crashing over the edge once more with a strangled cry.
"Ngh Andy" you whine, arms shaking as you fall limply towards the head board. Thighs shuddering against his head panting "I… fuck I need a minute."
Tapping your hips with his long, slender, pointer fingers, he guides you to sit back on his side of the bed. Once your settled he adjusts himself to a seated position on the towel. Licking the remnants of your slick and blood from his lips, he shoots you a devilish grin, leaning back against the headboard. His legs spreading invitingly to accommodate your wide hips.
Patting his strong thigh beckoning you to him, Andrew murmurs "c'mere Love."
Wordlessly you crawl into his lap. Your back resting against his chest. Nose pressed into the hallow of his throat, you breath in his scent humming contently.
"How're you feeling Killer?" Andrew murmurs, lips pressed against your sweat slick forehead. Hands rubbing up and down your soft thighs.
"Mmm better I think" you mumble nuzzling into the side of his throat. Wincing slightly when his finger tips brush against the puncture wounds left by his finger nails earlier.
Burrowing his nose into your hair he sighs "sorry Love don't know what came over me."
Pressing a kiss to his collarbone you murmur against his skin "nothing I can't handle Bear."
"I know but I didn't mean to hurt you." He sighs, thumbs brushing gently across the ten identical red marks painting your hips.
"I know you didn't Bear. If anything I enjoyed it." You shrug adding "if only a little bit" as an after thought.
Sighing through his nose, he brings one of his thumbs up to his lips. Sucking the digit into his mouth he coats it in his saliva.
"You know another amazing thing I've learned about the female anatomy?" He breaths against the shell of your ear. Bringing his saliva covered thumb down he presses it reverently against your bleeding skin. Sealing the puncture wounds back up.
Breathing a slight sigh of relief you ask "what else have you learned Baby?"
"I've learned that you're capable of orgasming as many times as you want at any given moment." He hums sucking his thumb back into his mouth coating it in more of his saliva.
Melting back into his chest you sigh shifting so he has better access to your unhealed hip. "Oh yeah?"
"Mhm and I for one plan on finding out how many you can take Killer." He rumbles nipping gently at your earlobe as he heals the final mark.
A thrill of delight swims beneath your skin. Goosebumps painting your flesh at the promise of him. "Is that a threat?" You breath, a content smile ghosting your lips as you melt into his strong embrace.
"No Killer-" He hums lips pressed to the thrumming pulse point of your throat. "-that's a promise." His long, slender fingers find their way to your nipples. Pinching the sensitive buds, punctuating his promise.
"Andrew" you gasp, arching off his chest. Pressing your breasts into his hands, aching for more.
Smirking he continues to toy with your breasts. His lips trailing absentmindedly along your jaw. Muttering against your soft skin, "d'you know that a woman can cum simply from nipple stimulation alone?"
"N…no" you huff out, your ass grinding against his hard cock. Pulling identical strangled groans from both of you.
"Mmm well they can and you my Darling are going to tonight." He grins pinching your nipples once more. "But first" he hums nipping at your jaw. His hands sliding down the soft, pillowy plane of your stomach, dipping between your spread thighs.
With a moan your head falls back, exposing the long column of your throat to him. Practically begging him to sink his fangs into your throbbing artery as his fingers swirl expertly around your clit.
"Would you like that Killer?" he breaths, fangs ghosting across the thin skin of your throat. Fingers dipping low to slide across your slick folds, teasing you.
A shiver runs down your spine as you writhe in his arms. Desperate for any form of friction you can get. "Please" you whine pitifully.
"Good Girl" he grins, nipping at your neck as he finally sinks his middle two fingers into your dripping cunt. Instantly finding your g-spot, pressing against it he pulls a debauched groan from your lips.
Your back arching off of his chest you gasp "fucking Hell Andrew."
"That's it Baby take me like a Good Girl" he hums against your jaw. Fingers curling into your g-spot once more, toes curling at the sensation.
You let out a pitiful whine, unable to process anything outside of the unholy feeling of his long, calloused fingers pumping in and out of you. Pressing against that sweet, toe curling spot inside of you with each deliberate stroke.
"D'you know-" He muses, speaking as though he wasn't knuckles deep in your dripping cunt. "-I had a thought the other day."
Sucking in a breath through your clenched teeth you gasp "Wha- fuck, what?"
Chuckling softly, he presses a kiss against the shell of your ear murmuring. "My fingers, you see, they're perfectly ribbed for your pleasure. Almost as though I was made for you." He pauses, nipping at the long column of your throat, adding reverently "and you, me."
"Ngh" you grunt, eyes rolling in the back of your head as he continues to plunge his fingers into your wet heat. "Christ Andy I… fuck I'm so close" you whine writhing in his lap.
"Cum for me Killer" he commands pressing his thumb against your clit. Swirling it around the swollen bud, teetering you on the edge of release once more.
Your walls clench around his slender digits as another wave of euphoria washes over you. "F…fuck" you stutter, stars bursting behind your eyelids, clouding the edges of your vision.
"That's my Good Girl" he praises, continuing to work you through your orgasm. His lips and fangs brushing along your shoulder as you shutter in his arms.
Pressing a gentle kiss to your temple he pulls his fingers from you. A soft whimper crawls it's way up your throat through your lips. Eyes locked on yours he brings them to his lips, sucking them clean of your blood and slick.
"God I really should be disgusted right now-" you chuckle breathlessly, relaxing limply back against his chest. "-and yet somehow I'm not."
Chuckling he moves you to lay down again. Your back pressed to the navy towel as he moves to settle between your legs once again. His hips pressed against yours. The long, hard line of his cock pressed against your dripping cunt trough the thin dark gray fabric of his boxers.
"Mmm why's that?" He hums planting his lips against the corner of your jaw.
Sucking in a sharp breath through your teeth, you squirm against his hold. Grinding against his hard cock, you grin brightly at the whimper that breaks free from his lips. You sigh against his ear "left over human instincts I think."
"Ah those pesky old things" he tsks softly, his lips making their way to the pulse point right below your jaw. He sucks a mark into your skin with an indecent groan.
"Mhm" you hum in reply, your body greedily arching and pressing against Andrew's long, lean form. A sharp hiss forces it's way from your lips as he kisses down your throat.
Dragging his now dull incisors across the base of your throat. Wordlessly making his way down your body, alternating between soft, reverent kisses and hard, possessive bites.
"Andy I… I don't think I can go again" you shutter squirming beneath him.
Humming he kisses and nips his way down your torso. Making his way to your stomach he swirls his tongue around your navel before sinking his teething into the soft underside of your belly. "That's ok Darlin', because I know you can" he rumbles low in his chest.
With a smirk he surges upwards. Taking you by surprise as he sucks one of your already hard nipples into his eager mouth.
Your back arching off the bed you gasp in surprise "Andy fuck." Your breast not currently in his mouth presses up into his awaiting hand.
With a groan he tweaks your nipple with practiced ease. Simultaneously swirling his tongue around the other one still in his mouth.
Releasing your breast with a wet pop. He nips at the soft skin of your breast before trailing wet open-mouthed kisses across your breasts. Sucking your other nipple into his mouth he pays it similar attention with his skilled tongue. Pinching and pulling at the discarded bud instinctively working it impossibly harder. Grinning against your breast at the deep guttural groan that rips through you.
Surprising only to you, you begin to feel that all too familiar burn of your release building in the pit of your stomach. Albeit slower than the last three star bursting orgasms he'd brought you. Each one stronger than the last, and this one was gearing up to be no different.
"Fucking Jesus" you grunt, teeth grinding together, your hands find their way into his curl. Tugging at the roots as he flattens his tongue against the hardened peak of your breast.
Sitting up he kneels between your spread legs. Guiding your thighs to wrap around his waist. Your ass pressed against his thighs, dripping, bloody cunt of full display. "That's it Maeve" he grins wolfishly, fingers returning to pinch and pull at your nipples.
"Andy I… fuck I need your cock" you whine grinding against nothing. Desperate for any kind of friction on your aching cunt as he drags his blunt nails across the hardened peaks.
Clicking his tongue at you in response, Andrew bends to suck one of your nipples into his mouth. The dull edge of his incisors scraping deliciously at the hardened buds.
Biting down on your nipple he tugs it with him as he pulls away from your breast. Mirthful mischief swirling in his eyes at the animalistic groan that rips itself from your parted lips.
Releasing your nipple he hums wickedly "and you'll have it when I've had my fill of you." Leaning up he seals his lips to yours, swallowing your whine of protest with a hungry groan. He adds with a low chuckle "and Baby I am far-" His lips ghost along your throat, finding their way to the hallow of your throat. "-from full."
"Andy… fuck" you gasp, pressing your chest up into him.
Grinning he works his way down your chest. Lips trailing open mouthed kisses along the lines of your collarbones. Nipping and sucking at the soft skin of your breasts murmuring "I believe I promised you a new type of orgasm."
Greedily he sucks one of your nipples back into his mouth. Swirling the tip of his tongue around the hardened bud as his hand pinches and pulls at your neglected nipple.
The euphoric burning in the pit of your stomach comes back with a vengeance. Sending you chasing after your next climax with a biblical level of greed.
"Fuck Baby I… I'm so fucking… ngh close" you ground out, teeth clenched tight as you arch into him.
Grinning he swaps his hand for his mouth on your neglected breast. Pinching and pulling at your nipple in time with each nip and suck from his mouth. His tongue swirling hungrily around that hardened bud, tipping you closer and closer to release.
Your dripping cunt clenches desperately around nothing as Andrew brings you to the edge of that glorious peak. "Shit… fuck" you hiss, slipping over the edge of ecstasy. Faint stars dance behind your eyelids. This climax more gentle than the last but just as euphoric.
Releasing your breast with a wet, obscene pop he leans back on his heels watching as you float through your climax.
His gaze locked on your heaving chest and stomach as you come down from your high. His calloused hands roaming over your soft, plump skin, he praises "Such a good girl for me." His voice thick and low with unadulterated lust.
"Always" you hum, your mind drunk on pleasure. A delicious shiver ghosts along your spine at the drag of his rough hands trailing softly across your delicate skin.
Craning his neck, he presses a kiss to your knee before peeling himself from between your thighs and moving to lay beside your blissful form. Laying on his side to face you, his head propped up on one hand. While the other snakes it's way up your stomach to rest in the valley between your breasts. Feeling your chest rise and fall with each calming breath.
The calm reassuring thump of your heart beneath his hand, filling his ears, answering to his own. "D'you feel better Darling?"
"Mmm much" you murmur, reaching up to rest your hand on top of his still resting on your chest. Settling into his warmth.
"Good" he breaths, leaning over to kiss your forehead softly. Thumb brushing along the side of your breast absentmindedly.
You lay in comfortable silence for a while. One of your legs hooked between his. The only sound filling the room was your breaths coming in tandem as your hearts beat as one.
Humming he slides one of his hands from your chest down to your stomach. His large calloused palm brushing over the soft, pillowy skin below your navel. His brow furrowed, a pensive look swirling behind his muddy green gaze.
Reaching up to cup his cheek you murmur softly, "what is going on inside of that big beautiful head of yours?"
You reach up pressing your thumb to the scrunched skin between his brows, smoothing the tension from him. Coaxing the troublesome thought from his lips. "I've been thinking, if you're ehm… if you're willing that is, I want to ehm… I want to…" he trails off suddenly very shy.
"What have you been thinking Bear?" You hum, tucking a loose strand of curls back behind his ear. His face glowing from the setting sun streaming through the floor to ceiling windows to left of the bed. The curtains having fallen open at some point in the last hour.
"I want to mate you Maeve." He breaths his gaze locking onto yours. "I want to leave my mark on your skin and have you leave yours on mine. That way no other being, man nor beast, can ever question who you belong to." Fingers trailing along your skin he adds reverently "who I belong to."
Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes locking onto his as his offer to permanently mark you sinks in. Swallowing harshly you ask "what do you need from me?"
Leaning over he presses a gentle kiss to your lips murmuring. "Your permission-" His lips move to press a worshipful kiss to your jaw. "-your body-" He nuzzles into the hallow of your throat. "-and your soul."
Melting into the mattress, your hand finds it's way to his bare chest. Fingers carding into the sparse chest hair you smile blissfully "they're yours."
Grinning against your throat, his hands find their way to your hips, moving to settle between your thighs once again. Dragging his dull teeth across your collarbone, down to your breasts. His tongue flicking out to lick at the hardened peak of your nipple.
"Ngh" you gasp, your thighs wrapping tightly around his hips. His navy blue boxers the only barrier between your dripping cunt and his half hard cock. "Off" you grunt pushing at the waistband of his boxers.
Gripping your hips he pins you beneath him, stilling your hands on his waist with a low, amused chuckle "so impatient."
Extracting himself from between your thighs, he climbs off the bed. Turning to face you, his thumbs hooking into the waistband of his boxers, cocking his head to the side with a devious grin. "Is this what you wanted Killer?"
"Please" you breath, turning to face him. One of your hands finding it's way to your breast, as the other slips down your stomach to rest between your spread thighs. The picture of a goddess painted just for him.
Taking in your prone form bathing in the golden light of the setting sun he groans, "fucking Christ you're perfect."
"Only for you" you murmur, your eyes trained on the ever growing bulge in his boxers, "now let me see you."
"Insatiable little thing aren't you?" He chuckles, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers once more. This time he slowly inches them down his hip and over his ass.
Grinning indulgently your arms drag across your stomach and chest, stretching out above your head. Reminiscent of a feline basking in a warm sun spot. Barking out a laugh you hum "Andrew I love you but I am far from a little thing-" Lifting an inquisitive brow at him, the corner of your mouth upturning in a suggestive grin. "-and I like it that way."
Straightening back up, his hard cock standing to attention, on full display for you. He grins, flashing his sharp, pointed canines at you he drawls "and I love you for it."
Stepping over to your prone form once more, Andrew reaches out, wordlessly brushing the tips of his fingers along the top of your thigh. His fingers dancing along your soft skin, following the ripples of fading sunlight painting your pillowy stomach. Drawing nondescript patterns into the pliable flesh as he goes. His fingers dipping and rising, following the flow of your body. Pausing to pinch your overly sensitive nipples, pulling a delighted gasp from you before continuing his quest up your body.
"Do you trust me?" He murmurs, his hand sliding up your chest, cresting your collarbone before slipping around your delicate throat.
Swallowing harshly against his rough calloused palms you nod "always."
"That's my Good Girl" he grins, his fangs glinting in the remaining sunlight as he smiles softly down at you. The picture of a beast teetering on the edge of control.
His hand still wrapped around your throat, he bends at the waist until his lips are a breath from yours. His thumb slipping up your jaw to brush against your lower lip murmuring, "I'm going to draw marks on your skin, is that alright?" His green-brown hazel eyes locked on yours, searching for any subconscious response.
"Please" you nod softly, throat bobbing beneath his hand as your gaze locks onto his.
"Good" he grins, finally pressing his lips to yours before straightening back up. He pulls his hand from your throat, leaving your warm skin all together, causing you to shiver from the sudden cold.
Looking up at him with pleading eyes you squirm on the mattress eagerly awaiting his next move. "Andrew" you gasp when he silently slices the skin of his palm with his elongated thumb nail.
"Shh it's fine Killer. The only way for a mating ritual to work is for each party to mark their chosen mate with their own blood." He murmurs squeezing the meaty flesh of his palm to encourage the blood to flow into the wound. "Do I still have your permission to mark you? To mate you?" He adds a sudden uncertainty swimming in his muddy green gaze.
The metallic smell of his blood fills your senses causing your fangs to burst forth of their own volition, puncturing your lower lip. You suck in a ragged breath nodding as you murmur "always."
"Stay still for me Killer." He grins, swiping his index and middle fingers in the pooling blood on his palm. "I should warn you this ritual… it's known to make the males of our species desperate to breed their mate. Do you still want to go through with this? I can't promise it wont take." He warns head tilted inquisitively to the side, a feral look still swimming in his lust blown eyes.
Swallowing harshly you nod eagerly squirming beneath his intense gaze "yes I… please I want you. I need you."
"Good" he purrs, leaning over you he swipes his blood soaked fingers across your lower stomach, from hip to hip murmuring. "To always be the reason you never know the pain of hunger so long as I breath, and blood pumps through my veins."
Once satisfied with the two crimson lines painted across your lower stomach he dips his fingers into his blood once more. Moving up your body he drags his fingers across your ribcage right below your left breast. "To always be the breath in your lungs and the wind in your sails." He hums drawing a matching mark below your right breast.
"To always ease the weight off your shoulders." He continues drawing his crimson fingers down your collarbones.
Your chest heaving beneath his hand as your breath hitches in your throat. A warmth flooding your bones with each carefully placed blood mark on your skin. "Andrew" you whisper fighting the urge to squirm.
"Ssh Darlin' I need to concentrate" he tsks squeezing more blood onto his fingers. With a slight upturn of his lips he takes his fingers to the long column of your throat. Pressing the blood soaked pads into your pulse point he drags them down your neck murmuring. "Your pulse is my pulse, our hearts forever beating as one."
Once he repeated the mark on the other side of your neck he smears his blood on his lips. Leaning down once more he presses his blood smeared lips to your forehead, humming against your skin. "May you always know of my love for you and how deep it runs."
Pulling back from you once more, he smears more blood onto his lips. Moving back down your body he bends to press a kiss to your stomach right below your navel muttering. "May our bond flourish and grow to something beyond ourselves." Clearing his throat he adds "should you will it."
With every new mark, carefully placed on your skin, a warmth floods your veins, consuming your body. It came from somewhere so deep in your being that you never would have known it existed if it weren't for him. Yet despite the golden warmth drenching your bones you knew he wasn't quite done with his masterpiece. You watched him coat his lips once more in the deep crimson blood pooling in his palm.
"Your soul is my soul." He murmurs leaning to press a kiss to the center of your chest, right above your roaring heart. "Your life is my life. Our bodies forever two halves of one whole."
With that final word uttered from his lips you feel something begin to twist and whirl as it begins to lock into place.
"Now I need you to repeat this-" He pauses waving his free hand up your body to indicate his markings. "-on me in your blood. Can you do that Killer?" He asks licking at the slice in the meaty flesh of his palm, healing the self inflicted wound.
Swallowing harshly you nod "I think so."
Sitting up on the bed you turn to face him, slinging your legs off the mattress. Once your feet are planted firmly on the ground, legs spread to accommodate his broad form, you beckon him to slot between your thighs. "C'mere then Bear" you murmur slicing your own palm, a mirrored image of his earlier actions.
Leaning towards him you swipe the index and middle finger of your perfectly manicured hand in the pooling blood on your palm. Pressing the blood soaked digits against his left hip. Dragging your fingers across his lower stomach, through his sparse happy trail toward his left hip you repeat his earlier words. "To always be the reason you never know the pain of hunger so long as I breath, and blood pumps through my veins."
He shivers slightly, his gaze never leaving yours as you dip your fingers in your blood once more moving up his torso for the next set of marks. Pressing your fingers into the soft skin on the edge of his right side, below his chest, against his ribs you mutter the next vow. "To always be the breath in your lungs and the wind in your sails."
Craning your neck you gaze up at him, giggling "I need you to kneel for me Bear. I may be tall but I'm not that tall."
"Right ehm" he chuckles, cheeks flushing slightly as he kneels before you. His hands naturally finding their way to rest atop your thighs as he unconsciously leans further into you.
"Thank you" you hum leaning forward to peck his nose sweetly before dipping your fingers back into your bloody palm. Taking in a deep breath you swipe your fingers down his right collarbone, then his left uttering the next promise, "to always ease the weight off your shoulders."
You could see it in his eyes, that warmth now familiar to you flooding his veins as you move on to the marks on his throat. "Your pulse is my pulse, our hearts forever beating as one." You say, watching his throat bob beneath your bloody fingers as you drag them from his pulse point to the base of his neck.
"Now the-" he starts squirming at your attentions, his cheeks a bright crimson color.
"I know, now be quiet" you tsk coating your lips in blood. Tilting your head quizzically at him, you reach up to grab his jaw guiding his head down to yours. Pressing your bloody lips to his forehead you murmur "may you always know of my love for you and how deep it runs."
"You ehm… you don't have to do the lower stomach mark that's ehm… that's just for females." He stutters suddenly very bashful, his body flushing a gentle pink from a mix of embarrassment and the warmth of the mating marks.
Smearing more blood onto your lips you wordlessly instruct him to stand back up. "I'll do what I want" you shrug, shooting him a wink leaning forward to press your lips to his stomach right below his navel. "May our bond flourish and grow to something beyond ourselves. Should we will it."
Covering your lips in blood one last time you stand raising your blood soaked palm to his mouth. Wordlessly instructing him to seal it. Humming he eagerly licks at the open wound, healing it.
Pulling your hand back from his lips, you smile sweetly up at him before leaning in to plant the final mating mark above his racing heart. "Your soul is my soul. Your life is my life. Our bodies forever two halves of one whole."
With your final vow uttered you watch as a tension you hadn't noticed before eases from Andrew's form. The soft smile on his face tells you he's feeling that same warm twisting and whirling sensation of the bond beginning to lock in place.
"N…now what?" You mumble looking up at him inquisitively. Your hands fold in and out of fists, itching to touch his skin. A sudden urge to be as close a humanly possible to him- Hell you'd crawl inside his skin if you could and not even that would be close enough.- over takes your body.
"Now comes the fun part-" he rumbles a sly grin spreading across his bearded face as he lowers his lips to brush against the shell of your ear. "-now I get to fuck you."
A shiver of delight twirls down your spine at the barely restrained lust dripping from his deep, husky voice brushing against the shell of your ear. Swallowing harshly you murmur "is that a promise?"
"No Killer, it's a warning." He purrs, nipping playfully at your jaw. His hands find their way to your supple hips gently, yet firmly pushing you back onto the towel covered mattress.
A soft gasp bursts from your parted lips as you land back down on the mattress. Your hands reaching up to find purchase in his curls guiding his lips down to yours.
Groaning into the kiss Andrew slots his knee between yours. Pressing until your thighs spread wide for him as he guides you to lay down on the mattress. One hand braced against your lower back the other finds its way to your thigh hitching your knee up his waist. His lips never leaving yours even as he positions your body below him where he wants it. Where he needs it. His hips slotted against yours. His cock resting against your aching cunt, this time free of the confines of cotton.
"Christ I've thought about mating you since the first time I saw you." He groans his lips breaking away from yours to trail open mouthed kisses across your jaw and down your throat. Careful not to smudge the mating marks.
Arching up into him, your hips grind down against his cock, letting out a soft pitiful whine "please Andrew I… fuck I need you."
Wordlessly he slips his hands from your lower back to the slim space between your bodies. Gripping his cock, he lines the bulbous head up with your aching cunt finally pushing into you with a broken, feral growl.
Whatever magic that was behind a vampiric mating ritual was setting a beast you'd never seen inside of him free of it's cage. And Christ did your own inner beast ache for it's counter part.
"Move" you command grinding into him, your arms wrapping around his neck. Your nails, much like your fangs, were permanently lengthened to their lethal, sharp forms as the mating bond grew in strength.
"Fuck" he grunts around his own sharp fangs, pulling almost all the way out of you before slamming his hips forward. Driving you into the mattress below. His gaze fixed on where your bodies met. Watching intently as his cock, glistening with your slick and blood, slams in and out of you with each roll of his hips.
His nails unconsciously digging into your soft, supple skin. His baser bestial instincts to breed you taking the reigns, as each drag of his cock against your inner walls, pulls that twisting sensation from earlier tighter and tighter.
Your nails bite into his shoulder blades, drawing blood as your hips buck up to meet his thrust for thrust. "Christ Andy" you gasp as the head of his cock drags across your g-spot. A shock of pleasure spreading through your bones, eliciting goose bumps along your skin.
"Mine" he growls his face burrowed into the crook of your neck. His nose nuzzling against the mating marks. Claw tipped fingers move to grip your hips angling them so he can sink deeper into you with each brutal thrust.
A feral groan crawls it's way up from deep in your chest as the head of his cock drags against your a-spot. The bulbous head millimeters away from ramming into your cervix. And God did your soul sing with each savage slam of his hips into yours.
"I am yours… shit Andy… you are… Jesus fuck right there… you are mine" you stutter out breathlessly. Something deep within you screaming to pull him closer because despite his cock surging in and out of your cunt he still wasn't close enough.
Almost as though he knew exactly what you were feeling. Andrew's arms wrap around your lower back holding you tight to him as his nose burrows into the crook of your neck once again. Pulling you impossibly closer to him.
You can feel your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. Coiling like a red hot spring ready to burst right along side of the twisting and whirling sensation from the mating ritual marks.
Your blood roars in your ears mixing with the sound of his own heart pounding inside the cage of his chest. Muffling the wet sound of skin slapping against skin and the feral, downright indecent, noises ripping themselves from yours and Andrew's lips.
His mouth moves up your neck all tongue and teeth, his lips coming to rest against the shell of your ear. Breath fanning against your ear he huffs. "I've marked you with my blood, now I'm going to breed you with my seed. Is that what you want… Killer?"
Swallowing harshly, your throat bobbing enticingly beneath the smeared lines of his blood marking you as his. You nod eagerly words failing you with each slam of his hips into yours.
"Words Killer… I need to hear you beg me to breed you. I want to know how badly you want to swell with my child." He rumbles, fangs dragging tantalizing down your throat, hips never breaking their slow, deep rhythm.
"Please Andrew I… fill me. I want… fuck I want you to fill me." You whine desperately, your walls clenching greedily around his throbbing cock.
A low rumbling chuckle slithers from his throat as his hips slam into yours, punctuating his warning words. "You know not what you beg for Killer."
"I… fuck I do… I know" you gasp, back arching off the mattress. Your full aching breasts pressing into his chest, nipples dragging deliciously through his coarse chest hair.
Bracing himself above you with one hand while the other slips around your waist. Coming to rest against your stomach, right below your navel. He presses into the soft, supple flesh, feeling each drag of his cock inside you, groaning "if I had my way Killer. I'd keep you in this bed-" He bends to lick at your nipple delighting in the shocked gasp you release. "-stuffed full of my cock until my seed took root and you swelled with my child."
"Ngh" you whine pitifully. Words failing you as the red hot coil of your fifth orgasm winds tighter and tighter with each drag of his cock.
"That's it Maeve, cum for me." Andrew huffs, angling your hips just right so the coarse hair at the base of his cock drags against your clit with each roll of his hips.
"Christ I-" you gasp, stars bursting behind your eyes. Your orgasm crashing over you in an all consuming rapturous wave. A sudden all encompassing urge to devour him takes over causing you to sink your fangs into his neck. Greedily sucking his warm, metallic blood into your eager mouth you let out a feral groan.
The sharp sting of your fangs breaking the flesh at the base of his neck flips something in Andrew, causing him to sink his own fangs into the side of your neck. His hips rutting once, twice more before he buries himself to the hilt in your warmth, tipping over the edge. Filling you with white hot ropes of his cum.
A warm yellow light fills your senses as you drink greedily from each other. The mating marks burning white hot into your skin as the final lock clicks into place.
With a wet gasp you break free from Andrew, his blood smeared across your face from the messy impromptu feeding. "Andrew" you breath, slowly beginning to feel control over your body once more.
Andrew pulls away from your neck with a groan. His cock still buried inside of you twitching with the remnants of his release. "Christ I love you" he pants, flopping his full weight on top of you.
"Mmm love you too" you mumble sleepily, squirming contentedly beneath him. The warmth from the mating bond settling into your bones before dissipating all together. The bond now forever intertwined with your soul.
"C'mere" Andrew murmurs wrapping his, now claw free, hands around your waist. Rolling the two of you so your drowsy form was on top of his. His cock still buried inside of you.
"Ngh Bear" you babble nuzzling against his throat "don't leave."
Pressing a kiss to your temple he hums, "I'm not going to leave Maeve. I'm going to stay right here, inside of you, just like I promised."
Slipping one of his hands from around your waist Andrew pushes the soiled towel from the bed before reaching for the discarded comforter. Pulling it up over the two of you as you snuggle further into his familiar warmth.
Your breathe fanning over the angry red mating bite you mumble "a chuisle mo chroí."
"A chuisle mo chroí" Andrew echoes, utterly content for the first time in centuries.
You lay in content silence for a while you pointer finger ghosting across the clotting bite mark. Something inside you said this wasn't a wound you should heal with your powers, but let scab and scar naturally. Permanently and very visibly marking each other.
"So about that blood supply restock" you giggle softly, a couple moments later, your stomach rumbling against his.
Grinning brightly Andrew presses a kiss to your temple chuckling "there's my Killer."
“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” Alex’s voice accuses him down the line.
“What other choice do I have?” Andrew stresses, internally groaning. “We both know she’s going to keep using me anyway so I might as well play into it.”
“Andy,” Alex sighs, “you have no fucking idea what you might be getting yourself into.”
“It can’t be worse than the people I’ve already killed,” he replies, monotone. “Besides, you try having the love of your life held prisoner by your worst enemy.”
“I-”
“Fuck, I’m sorry man, I’m not trying to – I'm just dealing with a lot right now.”
“I know.”
There’s a brief pause from both men before Alex pipes up again.
“Look, I know you’re going to do this regardless of what I have to say about it, but I’m at least going to help.”
“How?”
“You worry about your little plan; I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Alex-”
“If you’re going to continue to be stupid, the least I can do is keep you from doing it alone.”
“I’ve been managing just fine alone,” Andrew replies stubbornly.
“Yeah, maybe if this was a suicide mission,” Alex scoffs accusatorily. He loved the guy, but he could be absolutely infuriating when he wanted to be.
“So what if it was?” Andrew mutters on the other end, wincing the second the words left his mouth. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“Just,” Alex sighs, “don’t be stupid. Let me help.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Andrew mumbles halfheartedly, more so just wanting this conversation to be over than to get his friend dragged into the middle of his bullshit.
“Alright man, I’m stopping by sometime soon,” Alex replies, ending the call. It’s not lost on Andrew that it sounds less like a suggestion than a simply stated fact.
Admittedly, maybe Andrew should have opened up about why he’d grown so distant a bit sooner – especially considering Alex had been there in the initial moments before (the most recent) disaster – but he couldn’t seem to find it in himself to explain. A part of him had been grateful that both of them seemed to be a bit too busy to give him the chance. Logically, he knows that he likely can’t do this by himself. But on the other hand, he had never been good at asking for help, no matter how simple or how dire the situation may be. And the thought of Alex being caught up his problems... he couldn’t bear to think that he might see another loved one get hurt.
However, Andrew had been starting to doubt his ability to do this on his own. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was terrified of failing. It wasn’t even that he was worried about dying; he could barely remember the last time that thought had scared him. He was just afraid that if he did, it would all be for nothing. The idea of dying to protect her, only for nothing about her situation to change, squeezes his heart til he’s scared it might burst.
He’s unsure how long he sits on the floor, his back against the couch, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt or anything else he could reach. Visions seem to flash in front of his eyes as he stares blankly at the space in front of him, the influx of emotion making it hard to focus on anything else. Every time he thinks he can’t possibly have any more feelings left to spill out, his mind and body surprise him. Until recently, he didn’t know someone could feel both completely numb and intensely emotional at the same time to quite this extent. He supposes you can learn a lot about yourself when you’re being blackmailed by an evil vampire with your loved one’s life on the line. Andrew chuckles humorlessly to himself as the thought crosses his mind; this sounded like it could be the plot of a shitty horror movie and yet it was his reality.
He longs for a simple life, one where monsters didn’t exist and he could live peacefully in the countryside with his love, maybe even start a family. A sharp, yearning pang hits him at the prospect; he had never particularly cared too much about it when he was human, perfectly content no matter how the stars may align. But now, knowing that it would never, could never be in the cards for him, he has never wanted anything more.
Why me? He wonders for the countless time.
Had he done anything in his life to deserve this wretched existence? He feels selfish just for thinking it, but he didn’t think anything he’d done could have warranted this. He’s acutely aware of just how long forever really is, and just how lonely it could be. Even more now that everything good in his life was being forcefully ripped away from him. He doesn’t know how much longer he can fight, but knows he has to push through, for her.
******************
Celine had more than enough time alone to think. In fact, she wasn’t sure of the last time she had done anything but think – it had become a sort of internal torture, being unable to shut her brain off. Nothing to distract her for even a moment, outside of the short bursts of sleep she managed to get.
Saoirse’s words from the other night play on a loop in her mind. Andrew didn’t know where she was, likely didn’t know what they were doing to her. She longed for him, for the familiarity of his embrace, but was met only with the cold darkness that surrounded her.
Why would he come for you?
No. She couldn’t go there again, fearing she wouldn’t be strong enough to come out the other side of that spiral. Yet the void of morbid wonder was calling to her, trying to suck her in, and she didn’t know if she could fight it off. She was so tired.
Despite her best efforts, the lingering question wins over her restraint. Why should he care anymore? Maybe all this time apart had finally made him realize he could do better, that he deserved better. She regrets the times she blew up at him while trying to process everything that happened to her, when all he ever tried to do was help. Regrets leaving him in the first place; maybe none of this would have happened if she hadn’t panicked and run off. You ruined everything, just like always.
Anxiety seizes her, making it hard to feel air in her lungs. She craves his calming voice, his arms wrapped tightly around her as he tries to keep her grounded. She cringes at feeling so reliant on someone else to bring her back down to earth. She struggles to remember the grounding exercises he’d gone over with her numerous times, the panic too strong for logic to poke through. This had become a sort of routine for her, not having any other way to spend the seemingly endless time here.
Celine had lost count of how many times she’d suffered through this exact spiral; it was getting old, yet she felt helpless to stop it. Where the hell was he? What had Saoirse done to him? Why hadn’t he found her yet?
Eventually, one thought leads to another and she’s reminded once again of her recent conversation with Saoirse; something about seeing her again faintly rings a bell. Celine finds herself unable to determine the feeling that thought evokes – there was terror, sure, but there was something else hidden inside it. Excitement was too optimistic a word for it; it felt closer to desperation. She mulls it over, not having anything else to occupy her time. Had she really become lonely enough that she was willing to have contact with the person who ruined her life?
She releases a shaky breath, painfully aware of her trembling fingers. Until recently, she didn’t realize feelings could become quite so complicated – which was saying something, considering the shock of finding out her boyfriend was a vampire. But looking back at it now, that all seemed so pointless, almost infantile. It was practically another lifetime. Another lifetime, she thinks, the faintest hint of a smile cracking her lips. She could only imagine how that time felt to someone like Andrew, making a note to ask him about it before she’s reminded of how slim the chance of getting out of here may be.
As she rests her head against the cold wall behind her, she’s overwhelmed with the craving for home, swearing she could practically taste it if she focused hard enough. Maybe she really was losing her mind.
******************
Saoirse had been putting him through hell, and not in the usual way – he hadn’t heard another word from her in days, not since before he decided on a change of action. The result was an anxious, jumpy mess of a man who couldn’t stand the unknown. He was jittery, the house feeling much too empty, far too quiet, for his liking. He felt like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin, unsure of what to do with himself in the silence. His head was strangely empty, unable to focus on a singular thought for long, yet the anxiety persisted.
His nervous energy was too much to burn off by pacing laps around his house, so after several minutes of convincing, he finds himself in the open air in hopes that the larger space would work a sort of miracle. He wanders aimlessly through the darkening countryside, mostly keeping his eyes trained on the ground beneath him rather than his surroundings.
The wind is cool against his skin as his fingertips absentmindedly brush along the foliage around him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had allowed himself to really feel the environment. It was peaceful in a way, despite the circumstances. There’s a rustling somewhere nearby, likely a small animal searching for food. A few scattered raindrops land on his head while he walks, and tears nearly spring forward at the feeling. The experience of the simplicity of nature reminds him bittersweetly of another lifetime, yet it feels now somehow more important than it ever did back then.
He doesn’t know how long he strolls for, just taking in every little sensation. The scenery does a surprisingly good job at keeping his mind occupied when he takes a look around, though faint whispers of lives long gone creep their way up his brain. He remembers taking walks like this in his mortal life, looking fondly upon those days. The days when he’d come home from work and play with his dog, the days where he was actually able to maintain friendships. This wasn’t to say he didn’t have anyone now – obviously there was Alex and a few musicians he’d developed a connection with – but it was much more difficult to keep people around. Even now, he feared what would happen in a decade or two when there was no longer a way for him to hide the true nature of his identity. He’d always had a soft spot for his human companions over the years, and it was heartbreaking to inevitably leave them before they had the chance to bolt on him – or worse, watch as they grew older and ever closer to death. It was horrible on both sides, and even worse when his feelings became romantic.
Andrew had never intended to fall in love with Celine. He’d essentially sworn off relationships by then, having been hurt too many times in too many ways. But from the second he first laid eyes on her, there was a pull. Something about her was just so intriguing to him and he found himself drawn to her in a way he had nearly forgotten could exist. When he had realized he wanted to spend every free moment with her, it was too late to resist the feeling. He had fallen so hard, so quickly, that for a while he forgot that they couldn’t have a normal relationship. And now he was here.
He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets as he continues on, fingers closing on a small familiar object.
“Fuck,” he sighs to himself, pulling the little box out and rubbing the pad of his thumb over it. A sad smile tugs at his face as he opens the box and stares at the ring nestled inside. It felt like a totally different version of himself had purchased it, which he supposed it had.
He snaps the box shut, placing it safely back in pocket as Saoirse’s words begin to ring a distant bell. Part of him agreed with her; what had he been thinking? He’d bought the ring well before Celine found out about him being a vampire, though he had every intention of telling her. It seemed almost silly now, given the circumstances. Even if none of this had happened, would she even want to have him like that? And even if she did, what would they do about it? Andrew knew he wouldn’t have it in him to watch her grow old while he remained the same, but also was unsure if he’d be able to muster the strength to turn her. Maybe Saoirse was right, he finds himself thinking, immediately shuddering the second the words register in his mind. He must be losing it if he’s agreeing with her.
He barely remembers walking home, but suddenly he’s pulling his door shut behind him. He can’t seem to decide whether his little excursion was productive or made things worse, but all he knows is he’s utterly exhausted. He crawls into his bed, slipping under the covers and clutching a pillow to his chest. Sleep takes him quickly, and in his dreams, Celine is safe and sound in his arms.
You couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the idea had come to you, or even how, but the longer it stayed in your head the more you felt the thought calling to you. There were still logistics to figure out, like how you would go about actually extracting your own blood – and even more so, how to do it without Andrew noticing. This one was something you wanted to be a surprise, worried that he would freak out if you tried to discuss it with him first. Andrew, despite having taken the initiative to sit you down and discuss his vampirism with you, tended to be hesitant to let it come up in conversation. And on the rare occasions that it did, he’d dismiss it or try to change the subject. It was always as though he was scared that he’d mention one wrong thing and cause you to run off, even though you had taken well to the information from the beginning. He always seemed to be more uncomfortable with it than you were.
You had already purchased a small vial on a chain that was currently stashed away in your closet, tucked beneath a pile of clothes on the shelf. Somewhere easy enough to get to that wouldn’t raise too many questions if you were caught rifling through it. All that was left to do now was work up the courage to fill the container.
The hardest part was figuring out the least painful and least suspicious way to do it. You could accept that there would be some level of discomfort, but you also didn’t want to walk around with an obvious bandage that would immediately trigger Andrew’s concern. You weren’t confident you’d be able to explain away the injury without raising suspicion; you weren’t exactly the best liar to begin with. Then there was also the time constraint – he left for tour in two weeks, and you planned on giving this to him as sort of going away present before then.
An opportunity finally presented itself one night when he was out seeing a few friends, leaving you with the house to yourself. You felt an electric sort of nervousness that only came with sneaking around. You sat on the closed toilet lid, glancing over towards the necklace sitting on the countertop next to you. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to steady your nerves, you reminded yourself that this was an act of kindness, something you wanted to do. For half a second you considered just picking the skin around your nails, but figured it would be slow and you’d only be able to squeeze out a few droplets at most.
Forcing yourself to your feet, you picked up the knife resting by the sink. You’d go easy, not wanting to risk a worse cut that would require medical attention. Mentally cursing yourself for not thinking to use a needle when you came up with the idea, you brought the knife to your arm. The blade was cool against your skin, a welcome distraction from the sting you knew was to come. Gently, you dragged the blade along a small section of your forearm, watching as the wound began to open. You set the knife down, bringing the vial to where droplets of blood had begun to form. You held it there until it appeared full enough, watching with a morbid sort of satisfaction as the once-empty bottle now contained the red substance.
Once you’d made sure the blood was fully secured, you went about cleaning up the cut. Thankfully, you had managed not to go very deep or long, so the process didn’t consist of much other than cleaning the wound with basic ointments and placing a band aid over it. You were overwhelmed with relief knowing that not only was your task complete, but the evidence of what you had done would be simple enough to hide or brush off, should he ask. You carefully placed the necklace back in its hiding spot, glad for it to stay there until you were ready to give it to him. The remainder of the night was simply spent binge watching a show in bed until you couldn’t fight the heaviness of your eyelids anymore, a well-deserved reprieve from the stress of the day.
The days leading up to Andrew’s departure flew by, both of you kept busy by your respective work. Long days in the office left you exhausted, and he had a lot of running around to do in preparation for the tour, leading to you both losing track of time. By the night before he was set to leave, you had nearly forgotten about the gift hiding in your room.
You pulled your head from where it rested against his shoulder, pulling his attention from the movie you had been watching.
“I almost forgot!” you exclaimed suddenly, shooting up off the couch. “I have something for you,” you explained to a bewildered Andrew before rushing upstairs to retrieve it.
You pulled it out from the pile it was buried beneath, momentarily staring at it as you held it in your hand. It was now or never.
Sauntering back into the living room, you told him to close his eyes and put out his hand.
“Might I ask why you felt the need to get me something?”
“Oh shush, it’s just a little gift for your travels. It’s... practical.”
Even with his eyes closed, you could read the confusion on his face as he tried to work out what you could possibly be giving him.
You lowered it into his outstretched palm, hoping he wasn’t able to sense your nerves.
“Okay, you can open your eyes now,” you hummed softly.
He pulled the chain out to its full length, seemingly inspecting it.
“A necklace?” he asked softly, still a bit confused given your brief explanation. “Looks like there’s a nice pendant,” he murmured thoughtfully before holding it between his fingers. A vaguely horrified look flashed across his face as he registered what he was looking at. “Baby, I – is that... blood?”
You met his eye, anxiously biting your lip as you confirmed his suspicions.
“Your blood?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.
“Yes,” you nodded, trying to read his expression.
“Why the fuck would you do that?”
It was hard to tell whether his words were born of genuine unknowingness or if they were meant to be harsh, but you felt their impact either way.
“Like I said, it has a purpose,” you started, taking a breath as you chose your next words. “I was thinking that you could keep it with you for – for emergencies.”
“Emergencies,” he repeated, his tone questioning.
“Yeah.”
He looked at you, silently urging you to go on.
“Like... if you’re on the road, and you’re busy because you’re being pulled in a million different directions every day and you don’t have time to find another source, but you need to feed...” you trailed off, anxious energy permeating your entire being.
“That’s... incredibly sweet of you, actually,” he murmured, looking between you and the necklace he held in his hand.
“Yeah?” you asked, a mixture of relief and surprise replacing the anxiety that was looming moments ago.
“Yeah, it’s very thoughtful” he grinned, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “But don’t ever surprise gift me your blood again.”
“Mm you secretly love it,” you teased, leaning up to capture his lips with your own.
He rolled his eyes at you playfully, shaking his head. “You are so fucking lucky I love you.”
“I know.”
He stared back at the necklace for a few moments longer, the disbelief evident on his face. He didn’t quite understand why you would do such a thing, and the thought of needing to use it terrified him to his core, but it was also thrilling in some strange way – a secret kept between lovers, a physical manifestation of that bond. He promised himself to keep it safe, to use it only as an absolute last resort. Something about it felt sacred, too much so to risk wasting it.
___
It was about a month later when Andrew found himself alone in a hotel room a few hours after the show had finished, his leg anxiously shaking where he sat perched on the end of the bed. He hadn’t been able to feed properly since tour had started but had been denying himself the easy out of the small vial secured around his neck. He hadn’t deemed this enough of an emergency to justify it.
But each day it seemed to call to him more strongly than the last, and he didn’t think he’d be able to fight it much longer. The mere thought of using it brought a sense of guilt; what if there was more of a need for it down the line and he had let his urges control him so then there was nothing left to rely on? The fact that it wasn’t just regular blood, that it was yours, that you had freely chosen to give him, made him feel almost unworthy to taste it. But he was also starving, and it was only a matter of time before the hunger became all-consuming and began to affect his work.
His fingers clutched the container, as though to ground himself. He untucked the necklace from his shirt, rubbing the pads of his fingers along the cool surface. He was scared, unsure of how he felt about this being his first taste of your blood. The hunger, however, was beginning to outweigh his moral objections.
“Fuck it,” he whispered aloud, finding the opening of the vial.
He brought it slowly to his lips, allowing the liquid to drop onto his tongue. It tasted sweet, satisfying – and completely you. He emptied the remainder into his mouth, filled by a feral need to have more of it. Every last drop made its way into his system, appeasing the monstrous craving as best as he could. He licked his lips, the corners of his mouth, not wanting to waste a single molecule.
There was something obscenely religious about the ritual, having such complete access to your very being. He could only imagine how amplified the feeling would be when he finally got home to you and could sink his fangs into you, drinking directly from the source. He’d fought the desire for the entirety of your relationship, but now it was all he needed, all he longed for. He’d had his fill of you, yet his mind and body were screaming for more. He wanted you completely, wishing for time to speed up so he could finally have you.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
