There’s a soft touch on your cheek. So different from the cold unyielding ground that presses too hard on your bones where the skin is thin. 

How long have you been laying here? Where is here? It’s dark and freezing and the only colors that can be seen swirl in flashes, eyes unable to focus and vertigo pinning you flat. There is an unnatural heaviness to your joints and a burning in your throat. Something metallic, something chemical. Nothing like the hot, salty iron you expected when you ripped his throat out. 

Anger stirs. 

You did eat him. The context is just out of reach, just behind a curtain so thin you can almost see through but can’t seem to sweep aside. Still, you know you did. 

His face is half-obscured in your mind’s eye. The rage and the panic muddled everything together but the simpering features and godforsaken low taper fade linger in the memory and make you want to tear him apart all over again. 

The touch on your cheek turns into a palm, cupping your face. 

It reminds you of the touch on your waist that had turned into a grip on your arm and then into a threat. A demand disguised as a request until soon it wasn’t disguised at all. 

You shy away from the touch, nauseous all over again. 

That man is dead, you know it because you feel him churning in your stomach. Whatever poor stranger that found you lying here is at no fault for trying to comfort you but the feeling is unbearable. Any additional sensation is too much. They should just let you be, leave you alone until the spinning stops. Until the seeping, cloying strangeness scrambling your mind and poisoning every cell leeches away. You just need to wait it out. 

The hand pets at your hair. There are soft words but they feel so far away you can’t parse them. Fear mixes with the anger and queasiness, you need to be alone. Who knows what incriminating evidence you weren’t able to hide in your delirium. You need to hide, need to clean up, need to be able to think. Is there blood on you? Did you leave blood in the alley? Did you leave any of him behind? 

A second hand joins the first to slip underneath you and the world spins as you are lifted, boneless, and your stomach roils violently.

The misguided samaritan tucks you against their chest and despite the acrid stench in your sinuses they do smell nice. A small comfort, but one that doesn’t keep you from thrashing. If you can call it that. It’s pathetic, barely a twitch. 

How did this happen? Time is fractured, chunks missing and the rest fuzzy. You weren’t drugged, you tore him apart as soon as he pulled his iridescent green cool guy knife, swaying on his feat but intent unmistakable. Were you drugged after? Where did you go? Where are you now?

The repetitive murmurs of the person carrying you do little to soothe as the bounce of each step only increases your nausea, the chemical tang in your mouth unignorable. If you were drugged, why isn’t it wearing off? Nothing ever sticks with you this long. 

Strong arms readjust you and the panic cranks up a notch. Where are they taking you? Do they think you’re sick? Are they taking you to the doctor? 

That can’t happen. 

They’ll find out what you are and what you did and it will open door after door after door that can never be closed. 

Time flows unevenly as the sickening rhythm of steps lulls you into an inescapable loop of thought and panic, trapped inside your own mind as you remain unable to move. It’s hard to tell if the groan you feel vibrate your chest is loud enough to reach your would-be rescuer. You try to focus, to stop the spinning for even a moment to see their face, but it’s futile.

Every sense is warped and each flash of a streetlamp blends into the noise of a car and twists together with the feeling of the cold air on your face. Snowflakes spin overhead to meet the horizon and the leaves of trees replace them before melting into familiar shadow. The sloshing in the canals ebbs back and forth with the wet sounds in the chambers of the heart inches from your ear. It all melts together, one into the next, over and over and it takes every effort not to loose the contents of your stomach. 

It might feel better if you did but there's no way to know what will come up.

Finally, mercifully, things are still. 

You don’t know when it happened but you’re lying down again. Cool, hard flooring. Blue stripes separate white tiles and your eyes flit between them until the belated realization that you can focus your eyes. 

How long has it been? 

It’s cold. Nothing like where you lay when they found you but way too cold for what looks like the concerningly familiar inside of a bathroom. Are you naked? Your numb leaden muscles still fight you but there is enough sensation to stir slightly, the sting against your skin confirming the suspicion. 

There’s a shuffling behind you and then the unmistakable sound of a bath. With concerted effort you roll over, moaning with the strain and the feeling of joints bending just slightly wrong. The person hunched over the bath straightens and turns.

Joost.

Pale and worn. Bags under his eyes and a weariness to how he holds himself. 

Fuck.

The panic must show on your face because he looks pained. “Schatje…” He kneels and it draws your gaze to the bloody pile of clothes beside him. Your clothes. 

“It’s me, it’s me, are you with me?”

You want to cry. 

You are with him, most unfortunately. 

You tried so fucking hard to stay away. You laid low and silenced your phone, didn’t answer the door for the past couple weeks as you waited for the paperwork to go through. Who knew that falling in love would have kept you from remembering things as simple as renewing your passport? 

He came knocking at least once a day, even took to sitting outside your door sometimes, sure that he would catch you coming home or going out. You had to leave the house at odd hours, checking the mailbox for the forms at two in the morning and looking both ways before stepping off the stoop if you did go out.

You couldn’t stop yourself from listening to his messages, hadn’t been strong enough to not read his texts. Message after message begging you to answer, apologizing for scaring you, promising he was fine. All of it missing the point. He wasn’t fine. You hurt him and it can’t happen again. You can’t risk killing someone again.

But then, you just did. 

You did and despite your best efforts you are face to face with Joost.

Shadow blots him out as you curl an arm over your eyes weakly, unable to face his pathetic expression. It makes you want to hold him, to comfort him. There are so many reasons why you can’t. 

“Baby…please. Are you hurt?” He sounds so small.

“Joost…” You slur. “Get out of here.” 

He chuckles sadly. “This is my bathroom.”

Ah. As good a place as any to be naked.

“...Why?”

“I didn’t know where else to take you.” He pauses. “What happened? You don’t look hurt but when I found you you were…I don’t know. I didn’t know what to do.”

You want to disappear. “I don’t know.... Where did you find me?”

“On your porch. I couldn’t find your keys.”

A heavy sigh escapes your lungs that feel wet and hollow. The weight and darkness of your arm are a poor shield against the nausea and adrenaline, still fighting for control even now. “How much…blood was there?” Maybe you can still clean up before the sun rises. 

A bare but bloody ground flashes in your mind’s eye, shining behind the last chunk of him in your hands as you bring it to your mouth. It's a clear piece of memory among all the fuzz and it tempers the panic slightly.  If nothing else, you ate all of him. There won’t be much to do but scrape up the frozen spatters. 

“There was a lot. You-... I tried to clean your porch but you were so cold I had to get you out of there.”

Your hands curl into fists as you begin to shiver. You’re cold now too but it’s the farthest thing from your mind. Joost is almost unbearably sweet even though the hurt in his voice is palpable. After you injured him and avoided him and made him accessory to a crime he doesn't even know the details of yet he is still so kind.

His hand startles you, fingers wrapping around your wrist as he peels your weak arm away from your face, looking down at you miserably. “Can I put you in the bath?”

You nod after a beat, fighting tears, and let him scoop you up once more. It’s hard to remember the days when you weren't bothered by much more than the minutia of work and hoping Joost would come over that evening. What the weather was going to be and if Joost would like the drink you bought for him at the convenience store.

The alternating agony and numbness of the past week made it seem so far away and now, even as he holds you in his arms, you know it is impossible to go back. Not after what you did to him and not after what you did tonight. 

You really did it again.

He sets you in the hot water and you notice the blood stains on his hoodie where he held you as they press against the edge of the tub. Small waves lap at your skin and the blood blooms outward from where you sit like it's reaching for the other half of itself coating him. Joost retrieves a small cup from the cabinet and uses it to start pouring the water over you as he kneels. 

The water only gets darker as he bathes you in silence, touches chaste and methodical but eyes wandering as he continues to check you for injury. He dabs at your skin so gently with the washcloth as you sit there, still residually intoxicated. Under any other circumstance it would be relaxing but the tension in the air is almost a physical thing. 

It all feels like a sick twist to an already doomed ending, one last glimpse of him before you have to tear yourself away for the last time. Joost’s jaw is clenched, eyes wet, and each time your eyes meet he blinks down to focus on his movements. He drains the water and fills it again, stroking down your back to soothe your shivering as you wait for the water to rise. 

Eventually, he breaks. “Are you…do you feel better?” 

You hum in disagreement. 

He meets your eyes this time. “I don’t think…I mean I don’t know, but, that seemed like a lot of blood…Was it your blood?” 

“No.”

“So…someone you drank from?”

“Yeah.” 

He takes in your clipped responses, pausing his gentle wipes at your cheek. “Please…” It’s almost a whisper. “Why were you on your doorstep, in the snow, half dead, when I came to ask you for the hundredth time not to leave me?” 

A part of you curls up and dies.

“Why did you leave? I know you’re worried about me, I know that’s why you're avoiding me, but I’m worried about you too. I know you don’t have anyone and it’s not-, it’s not pity or whatever,” His voice breaks. “it’s just that I fucking miss you!” 

You bring your knees to your chest sluggishly despite the way your heart pounds, muscles fighting to tense but failing against the heaviness of the poison. “You don’t know what you’re saying Joost…You’re nice, you’ve always been nice, but I shouldn’t be here…You can’t come looking for me any more.” The words are slow, just as drawn out by how much you hate to say them as by residual intoxication.

“Why!? Can’t you see I’m fine? Please just answer the question, I still don’t even know if you’re okay! When I found you you didn’t…you didn’t even recognize me.”

“Joost…” How can you make him understand without saying it? How do you even begin? “I fucked up.”

“Are you talking about what you did to me or whatever happened tonight? Because if you’re talking about the papercut you gave me then you need to take a good look because I am just fine!” He pushes his bangs up with one shaky hand. 

True to his word, there is only a thin red line, held together by two small clear bandage strips. Head wounds bleed a lot but even so you were sure it had been to the bone. 

You sit there, staring each other down as you both tremble.

“I…I’m glad you’re okay. I’m sorry I left you alone like that…Did Tantu take care of you?”

He snorts derisively. “The ambulance got there first. Patched me up even though I could have done it just fine myself. When Tantu showed up he thought I was dying, the paramedics being there really spun him up. You might want to steer clear of the studio for a while….” 

He huffs, brow knit as he tries to collect himself, beginning to massage the blood from your hair with soapy fingers.

“I just mean…You never needed to do any of that. Everything was fine. Honestly, it would have been fine even if you had bit me. I know you think it’s a bad idea but I don’t care if it hurts and I know it’s not dangerous because you drink from people all the time. Who cares if you go a little extra crazy on me? I like that I make you crazy! I wasn’t gonna push because I thought it would end up happening anyways but then you fucking-, you ghosted me and I just- !”

“Joost…” Your veins are filled with ice.

“Please! Can you please, just, explain anything?! What happened tonight?!” He’s breathing hard now, clenched fists coming down to rest at the edge of the tub as his eyes dart over your face. 

You can only look at him, unable to find the words. He has no idea how wrong he is. 

You thought you had made up your mind, to do everything it takes to keep him safe, but some small traitorous part of you knows there is no getting him back once you tell him, no second chance. A part that refuses to draw the line by speaking it aloud.

“Say it! Just say it! Whatever it is you’re always never saying, you can tell me. You’re not going to scare me. I knew what you were from the beginning. I knew what I was getting into!”

Being yelled at naked in the bathtub, even if well-intentioned, starts to take its toll. You hug your knees weakly, trying not to cry as the nausea kicks up stronger. 

“...I can’t stand the way you will look at me…” It’s only a whisper.

“Would it be worse than me never looking at you again!? You were going to leave! I talked to your landlady, she said you’re moving out!”

Oh Joost.

“I literally killed someone!”

“I literally don’t care!”

Of course.

“No! You don’t fucking get it! I killed someone and I ate him and I’ve done it before and I could do it to you and it’s fucking crazy that I’m sitting here in your bath talking to you when there is an entire person in my stomach!” 

He freezes. 

Not a word. 

Not a twitch. 

Face blank.

His heart picks up, slowly at first like he’s still registering what you said, then, all at once it skyrockets as the scent of fear perfuses the room. 

Oh.

Fuck.

You pitch forward as your gorge rises too far to hold back, clutching the far side of the tub as you puke over the edge onto the floor. It isn’t much, mostly blood, but you gag over and over as you watch it spread into a perfect red pool around the mush at the center. The hand you clutch over your mouth barely keeps more from coming up when Joost scrambles backwards, his face a mask of horror, eyes fixed on the point of impact like if he loses sight of it for even a second it might hurt him. 

You knew it. There was never a world where anyone would be that understanding. You let your eyes fall, unable to look at him as shame starts to set in, when you see what he’s really looking at. 

There, in the middle of the puddle like some kind of dollar store halloween decoration, is a single eyeball. 

Oh fuck oh fuck.

You grab it, unthinking, and swallow it as fast as you can just to make it disappear. The sound of Joost gagging almost makes it come right back up again. 

God.

Fuck.

Make it stop.

You stumble up and out of the tub, limbs impossibly heavy. The guy you are still digesting must have been rolling on something. There’s no way anything else would take so long to burn off. 

You fall to your knees harshly in front of the toilet and frantically gather a wad of paper to press against the puddle. Anything to cover it. Anything to make Joost stop looking at you like that. You throw the wad into the toilet and grab another, wiping up the splatters as Joost continues to heave in the corner. You stand slowly, shakily, water dripping everywhere, and step towards the door.

The sudden hand around your ankle brings you down hard.

“Fuck! Sorry! I'm sorry! Don’t go! Please, I’m sorry!” Joost has a death grip on your leg, tears streaming down his face even as he reeks of terror. 

“Let go! What are you even doing!?” The slight ache of the impact is nothing compared to the sight of him as you twist to look over your shoulder, his face twisted in despair that rends your heart clean through.

“Just wait-” he gasps, crawling forward and grabbing at you desperately as you scramble against wet, slippery tiles. He uses his entire body to press you into the floor, the breath leaving you in one big whoosh. He grabs both wrists, holding them in front of you as you continue to struggle ineffectively, still too weak. “Just wait.” He chokes between stilted breaths, the kind that you can’t take properly when you cry. He buries his face in the back of your neck as he continues to shudder wordlessly, his death grip remaining firm. 

His heat at your back, even through his clothes, is a sharp contrast against the cool porcelain on your bare front. It’s clear you're not going anywhere and slowly you let go of the little tension you had been able to muster. The solid weight of him makes it impossible not to relish in the contact for a moment, the last you will ever have. He really is so much bigger, it’s a shame you never got to be beneath him the way you wanted. 

“Joost… Let me go.” You murmur.

“Stop talking. Just gimme a minute to process okay…Just, wait. You always run.” He hiccups and it makes your heart squeeze. 

“I know…and if I weren’t drugged to hell you wouldn’t be able to stop me. I’m gonna leave anyway when it wears off. Let me go, Joost. There’s no way you can tell me I’m not bad for you.”

He sobs once, loud and wet. 

“Joost…” Your own tears finally fall.

“I love you, I don’t care if you are, I love you!” The words are smeared into the skin of your shoulder.

The breath seizes in your throat. 

Everything inside you wails, shrieks, howls to say it back. Your teeth find your lower lip and you press your forehead to the tiles. He deserves to be loved and to know he's loved but you can’t give him hope, not now.

He shakes apart above you, the minutes stretching on and his hot tears sliding down your shoulder as he absorbs the weight of your silence before he finally speaks.

“Why did you eat them?” His voice is thin. Choked.

“...That's just what vampires do.”

“No, I mean, why them? You say it like you only eat some of them.”

He knows everything now. Everything important. There's no reason you shouldn’t explain. If you can’t give him what he really wants, what you both want, at least you can help him understand. Maybe it will help him let you go.

“Two. There were two…The first one tried to rape me, maybe kill me, I don’t know….when I ate him I ate all of him... I didn't know I could do it. I had no idea if it would happen again. I thought I could move on from it, I tried so hard, but tonight….fuck. I didn’t think something like that could happen twice, I hoped, but I was wrong….You asked me once why I started traveling. The first one is why I left home….It's time for me to leave again. Joost, I have to go.”

He winds tighter against you with each word. “Schatje…I’m sorry…” a pregnant pause, “That’s so fucked, that so fucked that that happened to you ….but… that was self defense. That wouldn’t happen to us. You’re not gonna do that to me and they’re not gonna catch you! Nobody will ever guess. Nobody is gonna know, you don’t need to go anywhere!” he sniffles, rocking his forehead against the back of your neck, trying to come up with the right words. Any words to make you stay.

You remain silent. It could happen. He makes you react in ways that make no sense and he always has. But if the hard, bloody evidence on his tiles wasn’t enough, then trying to reason with him now is pointless. 

He knows. He doesn’t care. 

He really is something else.

Eventually, when his crying tapers off and he realizes you’re done fighting, he eases his weight and crawls off you. “Sorry, that can’t be comfortable.” You smile dimly as he helps you sit up, more than happy to have endured it just to feel him a little longer.

“You still haven’t told me why you were on the porch like that. Why were you so out of it?”

“The guy was on drugs I guess. I didn’t know before I ate him.”

He swallows thickly. “Oh…well, how do you feel now? You’re a lot better than when I found you” He glosses seamlessly over the homicide.

“Weak.” It’s too much effort to do anything but answer him simply and honestly now, the emotions of the night have drained you dry and the inevitability of what you have to do brings a certain numbness. He still smells like discomfort and it’s not hard to guess that it’s because he’s unsure of your silence. He can’t tell if he has won. 

With a small frown he nods. His long arms reach above the medicine cabinet for a new cup which he fills and hands to you wordlessly. Joost drapes a towel around you so gently you almost want to cry again, and when you’re done drinking he scoops you up and carries you into the bedroom. He sets you gently on the edge of the bed and grabs a stack of clothes from his desk.

“Here. These are the ones you left.”

They are the very same. The cute shirt you had thought Joost might like, the bralette that had hung around your bound wrists as he licked your pussy so sweetly. You almost blush. 

You set down the pile and attempt the basics, forgoing the bra, but it’s still a struggle to do more than the shirt. Warm hands cover your own when he sees you shaking to tuck your knees and he pulls the underwear up for you, ignoring your soft noise of embarrassment. A pair of his own huge comfy pants follow right after and then he sets to work squeezing the water from your hair with the towel. 

He strips his own clothes down to the boxers, finally showing some skin after such an unequal bathing experience. You can’t help but smile. The sight of his golden chest hair and soft tummy, his strong arms and long, long legs before he pulls on his own pajamas is one you try and memorize. You’ve never actually seen him this naked before and you never will again. 

Joost seems to sense your melancholy but doesn’t comment as he approaches, tucking your hair behind your ear and holding your face in both huge hands. 

“Stay.”

You say nothing. You will make no promises. 

But, when he crawls onto the bed and gathers you to his chest, you don’t protest either. His body is warm and soft and the sigh he lets out when you relax against him drains the very last dregs of panic from you. The drug still lingers, heavy in your limbs, and he smells like something good and safe. Maybe, you can have just one more moment. Maybe goodbye can wait until morning.

When morning does come, so does the profound dread. There is nothing like a good night’s sleep to sharpen the mind and refresh the ability to freak the fuck out.

Joost is in danger every second he spends in your presence whether he’s willing to admit it or not and you’re in danger every second you wait to go and see how much blood is left on your porch. The cops might already be waiting for you.

Sitting up in his big warm bed, enveloped by his scent with the renewed effect of stirring your arousal now that there are no drugs in your system, the noises of Joost in the kitchen trickle through the crack in the door. Standing, you retrieve the bralette from his desk. There's no telling how soon you will have to leave. You slip it on quickly, giving one last long look around his room, taking it in one last time, and step out into the living space. 

Joost is cooking.

Not just making coffee or toast but actually cooking. 

Not once in all these months have you caught him holding a frying pan. Joost hates cooking in a way you have seen from very few people. Almost every time you come to his place you end up ordering out, and just as often he shows up with bags of takeout when he comes to yours, like he forgets that you can cook. It does seem to be more about ability than anything else. He just doesn't know how and you wonder how he never learned. The few times you’ve asked he brushes it off with humor but it’s clear you’re straying close to that nebulous thing he never talks about. You’re only becoming more sure that something terrible has happened to him too. It feels awful that you’ll never find out. 

Thank god he has friends.

He stirs something in the pan with a furrowed brow, frowning at the contents, but looks up with a smile when he hears the soft padding of your feet. “Good morning!” he chirps. ‘How do you feel now?”

“Good…Better. Normal I think…Hey, are you cooking?”

Joost grins wide as he fiddles with the gas. “Yeah I thought you could use something normal to eat.”

You approach the counter slowly, easing into one of the stools so you can stay upright when you deliver the final blow. “Yeah that would be good…thanks.” The sight of Joost in the kitchen frisking about fully dressed like he’s your lover about to wake you up on an ordinary morning does nothing to help your panic. You need to get this over with. “You’re being weirdly okay about cannibalism.”

He barks a laugh. “I mean, that part was kind of a shock but I told you already, I know you’re a vampire, I kinda figured you’ve killed people at some point.” 

It’s impossible not to stare at his beautiful face as he nudges charred looking onions and peppers back and forth in the oil. So cheerful. So opposite to the apprehension in your gut. Golden bangs glow in the morning light, hair just enough of a mullet now to fan out around his ears a little with bedhead. Perfect lips smile wryly as pale eyes glance back and forth between you and the situation in the pan.

He shouldn't be this calm, this sunny, no matter what he says. Not after what he saw. After the confession you didn’t return and the plea you didn’t answer. His heart is beating a little fast but it’s the only thing that seems off. Maybe he senses your unease. Maybe breakfast is a distraction.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. All these gentle words to make you stay, insisting he doesn’t mind, trying to make light, only delay the inevitable. It’s tempting to listen, to imagine that things could be that easy, but one night in his arms was already far more than you should have allowed. Being drugged and boneless were your excuses but now you have none left. 

It’s time.

“I’m sorry you had to see it, any of it…”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you're back.” He turns off the stove and scrapes the dubious vegetables onto a plate before beginning to chop new ones.

“Joost, I should go soon.”

He doesn’t look up at first, eyes fixed on his slices. The corner of his mouth barely twitches like he’s pretending he didn’t hear you.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to rush today! I already went and checked your porch again. Everything is clean but I still didn’t see your keys. You should just hang here and we can go bug the landlady for new ones later so she can see I’m actually your boyfriend and not a stalker. I don’t think she believed me. Besides, I need you here to taste my first-ever omelet.” He’s smiling again but it’s forced.

Something painful flips in your chest. He’s never called himself that before. Boyfriend. Not directly. 

Even after he bared his heart on the cold bathroom floor and you refused to return his words as he sobbed into your skin, he isn’t giving up. 

God.

The words burn in your throat. Every moment is a conscious effort not to say them back. To not interrupt him. To not scream it. To not make it so much harder on him when you leave anyways.

You’ve never wanted anything like you want him.

It takes a moment before your voice feels like it won’t tremble. “Joost, I gotta go…”

“I know, I know, don’t worry we’ll go after breakfast. Your landlady is always around. Honestly, she’s seen way too much of me recently.” His voice remains light but the knife starts to meet the cutting board with harsher strokes. 

You slide off the stool and his gaze snaps up, no longer smiling.

“Thank you for last night… Joost I-” You halt mid sentence, the nervous rhythm of his knife against the bright red pepper he’s no longer looking at sends a chill through you. “Hey careful, you’re gonna-”

The knipe slips.

“Ah- fuck!” He drops it, sucking his finger into his mouth immediately. 

It’s only a small cut, just a knick, but your attention narrows to the smear of blood on his lip within a millisecond. 

All sound cuts out. Your peripheral vision darkens as your eyes shift in an instant. The whole world exists in the few feet between you and him and his blood that smells exactly as good as last time. 

His eyes widen as he realizes what you’re about to do.

You turn in place, muscles winding, grateful for the large if substandard meal you had last night. Even if you could easily fit more, even with the visceral knowledge that Joost would smother the lingering bitterness in your throat with something exquisite, the remains of your attacker sitting in your gut allow sanity one last win. 

It’s the only thing saving you this time. No threat of someone coming around the corner, no pain on his face to stir your guilt. Only the dead man in your stomach to stave off your worst instincts. 

The stool crashes into the counter as you propel yourself away, lunging for the door. 

“NO NO nonononono wait!” He crashes into the cabinets as he scrambles around the counter over the slick linoleum but you're already jumping over the couch and fumbling with the door. The lock snaps open and you tug violently.  

The door doesn’t move.

Your eyes dart over the face of it as you continue to tug, desperately now, and then you see it. 

A new bolt.

He fucking got a new bolt. 

A bolt with a chain. 

When? This morning!??

You reach for it, fingers wrapping around the chain and ripping it free in an instant.

As the links clatter to the ground, a hand closes around your shoulder.

God. 

You just- 

You can’t anymore. 

You round on him and sink your teeth right in. 

His shout is sharp, strangled, and his hands shoot up to clutch at you. Your nails dig into his sides and the burst of hot wet ecstasy into your mouth makes you bite even harder. He moans in pain but he's not fighting you. His shaky arms come around your back and pull you closer.

The punctures you've made at the junction of his neck and shoulder are bigger than you really need. Everything about Joost makes you want to rip and tear. The blood flows quickly and you gulp it up just as fast. He tastes just as good as he smells, better even, like adrenaline and arousal, sharp against his natural sweetness and a slight tang of fear. There really isn’t enough fear. The small corner of your mind that hasn’t completely given up bemoans his lack of natural instincts. 

He is in so far over his head. 

It’s so fucking good.

You don't know if you can stop. 

He slides his hands down and hooks them under your ass, lifting you up carefully. You let him, unbothered, and wrap your legs around his waist to support your angle on his neck. You distantly wonder where he's taking you as he turns and walks back into the room. The answer comes in the creak of the couch as he sits down shakily, clutching you to him. It jostles you and he whimpers at the way it tugs on his flesh where your teeth are anchored. 

His heart is racing, delivering the mouthfuls to you without any real need to suck. You do anyways, just to hear him groan. It sends the first real bolt of arousal through you and you worry your teeth in his flesh to hear him do it again. He gasps loudly this time and you can really hear the hurt in his voice. The wet, desperate quality to it. His grip on your hips is vice-like. Still, he doesn't do a thing to protest and you are left to continue as you please. 

You can barely taste the cigarette he must have had earlier. Just wet and warm and metal and meat and him. All him. Joost starts laying little kisses on your hair. Lays a few on your shoulder and then back up again with his limited range of motion. He makes a small huff every time you swallow and you can’t mistake his arousal climbing higher and higher on your tongue. It's delicious. You wish you could stay here forever. 

Maybe you can. 

It's not like you can get too full. 

Without meaning to you pull with your teeth and he sobs pathetically, shuddering. It goads the inhuman part of you to tighten your grip, pressing him down where he sits, and suddenly the rigid length of his cock is snug against your belly.

Oh your precious little freak.

Enough blood left for a diamond hard erection at least. 

He groans, strangled, and any pretense he might have been holding onto flies out the window. He starts grinding up into you with soft little whimpers, chasing your hips to try and ride out the pain. He slides both hands up under your shirt, clutching at the skin of your back as you find a rhythm together. 

The sound of his pain both hurts and excites you as you continue to work the muscle between your teeth. The part of you that can think is screaming but you can't pull away to save your life. Not to save his life.

You try to take smaller swallows and wonder if he knows how close to death he is, if he truly appreciates it. 

His hands move over you desperately like he does know, grasping like if he doesn't feel all of you now he’ll never get the chance again. 

They fumble with the clasp of your bralette and skate around to cup your breasts when it pops loose, massaging them, grasping as much as possible in each hand. His thumbs tease your nipples, brushing back and forth before he lets go to pinch softly and then move on. His hot palms burn your skin as they slide all the way up and around to curl into the hair at the back of your head, tug lightly, make their way back down again and grab greedily at the soft curve of your ass. 

Your panties are starting to stick uncomfortably where you grind against him and it's like Joost reads your mind as his hands hook in the waistband of your thin lounge pants, tugging gently. As much as you are onboard with this plan, you can’t spare the attention to help him, too focused on fighting to pace your mouthfuls. After a few frustrated moments of failing to pull them over your hips with the way you are glued to him, he grabs either side of the ass-seam and tears. 

If you weren't so busy trying not to kill him you would have laughed out loud.

Joost wastes no time tugging your panties to the side. He swipes his fingers through your wetness a few times, swears, and drops his hands to start pulling at his belt almost violently. You hear the click when it finally pops open and feel him shove his pants down frantically along with what are undoubtedly Joost Klein boxers. 

Joost fights to raise his hips, only able to get the fabric down a handful of inches with the way you're pinning him like an animal. Finally his cock springs free, bare now, the wet tip sticking to the skin of your inner thigh.

You shift forward grinding down again with nothing in between and the hot slide of him through your drenched folds almost rivals the feeling of his life in your mouth. 

Joost inhales sharply, starts pawing at your hips, desperately trying to control your movements and line himself up.

You can't really help him, can't control yourself at all really. It feels too good to grind him against your clit and you're so much stronger he can't really stop you. Giving up on trying to get your help, Joost takes himself in hand and after a few desperate attempts to maneuver under you the tip finally notches at your entrance. 

He takes the opportunity and slams up into you as far as he can. 

Oh.

He’s hot and hard and absolutely huge. You suspected it from every time you’ve felt him pressed against you when moments have gotten heavy, but feeling it inside you is something else. He’s so thick. Thicker than anything you’ve ever taken before. It’s too much too fast and it’s perfect. The length of him pulses tightly against your walls in time with his heart. The stretch burns but it's the good kind of hurt. 

The delicious ache matches the pleasure of holding something between your teeth. 

It’s maybe the only thing that ever has.

You're frozen above him. The almost single-mindedness of bloodlust faltering. Joost slides out a little and sinks back in again with a groan, gentler this time but just as deep. The feeling becomes overwhelming. 

Before you know it you are unsinking your teeth with a wet ‘shluck’. 

You can’t believe it. 

You didn't know this urge could possibly overcome the other. Not when they go so hand in hand.

He looks back at you with huge wet eyes. So innocent looking if it weren't for how he's pressing on your womb. “Ngggh, why’d you stop?” His voice is thick with pleasure.

Of course he would ask that. “Oh my… Oh my god are you okay?”

“Yes, why’d you stop?” 

“Idiot! You only have so much blood!”

He grins and gives a tiny roll of his hips, reminding you he has plenty. “I told you everything was gonna be okay.”

“You are so lucky! If your stupidly big dick didn't feel so good just now I probably wouldn't have stopped!

He actually giggles. “Sorry, sorry, I should have told you about all the tools at your disposal.”

You bite him again just to spite him. The other side this time. 

He curses loudly. Grips you and shifts as if to flip you. Something in your hindbrain screams and you lock your legs to brace them firmly on the cushions. One hand shoots up to grip the back of the couch next to his head, pinning him where he sits. He pushes at you for a moment longer, struggles, but gives up when it becomes clear he won’t win. 

He resorts to kissing at your shoulder again, open mouthed and sloppy now, whatever skin he can reach as he runs his hands up and down your sides. You keep your teeth shallow this time and take only occasional swallows. It’s easy when your attention is so consumed by the way Joost fills you as your hips unfreeze, allowing him to go truly balls deep when you sink down to meet him. 

He starts feeling you up again in earnest. His hips work up into yours, doing as much as he can from where you've pinned him, but it's mostly you setting the pace. It feels so good to raise your hips so only the tip is inside and then feel the drag of him sinking into you all over again as you slide down oh-so-slowly. 

You can’t get over the way he stretches you wide open. The way he's angled when he’s seated fully inside presses at something good. You do it again. And again. It's leisurely and you can tell he wants more from the way he pulls at your waist, but he does his best to match your pace when he can't budge your hips to go any faster. 

You drag your tongue against his broken flesh and he goes for your nipples immediately. He tugs and pinches, alternating back and forth under your shirt, much more aggressive than before. The feeling shoots straight to your pussy and you arch so hard you have to detach from his shoulder again to throw your head back and keen. Joost lets out a strangled moan at the way you clench around him. 

“MNNHHH~ fuck! What the fuck! You’re strong everywhere! Did you know that?!” The words tumble out of him.

He makes a good point. You resolve to think later about the necessity of doing kegels as a vampire. Though, it’s hard to feel too bad for him when he's looking at you like he is now, obsessed.  “Hah, sorry.” 

He makes a face like he can’t believe you're laughing at him. The ridiculousness of it all allows you the presence of mind to finally pull your shirt off and remove your bra the rest of the way. He freezes for a beat, watching you do it, eyes glued to your tits, then does his utmost to try and flip you again. 

You let him struggle for a moment. You really do want to let him, but for some reason you just can't. 

“Come on baby pleaseee. Lay down for me.” 

You frown, incapable of putting into words why your body won't allow it. Joost’s shirt has bloomed red at each shoulder where both wounds continue to seep slowly and you peel it off him as you try to put together your own thoughts. 

“Baby please, schatje, I need you.” He’s almost begging.

Well, fuck. 

You put a hand on his shoulder and push him firmly against the backrest, quieting the little animal voice in your hindbrain, and start bouncing on it like dick pays rent. 

His mouth snaps shut. 

You really can't believe how perfect his cock is. You haven't gotten any since well before you turned but even so you know it was never this good. Joost fills you up in a way that makes you want to stop and just keep him there, feel it, but the pressure of him sliding oh-so-close to that one spot each time keeps your hips moving. 

His eyes are fixed now on where you’re connected, the filthy wet slide of him into you over and over. You are so wet it’s dripping down him and the sticky slaps fill the room each time your hips meet. You lean back a little to angle him better, searching for that spot.

The pleasure is blinding. 

You can’t control your moans at the way he hits into you now. It's getting way too good and you let your hips speed up to take you all the way there. He's gasping each breath as he grips your hips and looks up again to watch your face as you bring yourself to the edge. “Oh fuck, oh baby, are you gonna come? Gonna come on my cock?” He looks so fucked out, whole face pink and eyes misty like he’s the one cumming, not you. 

You don’t have time to answer. When the drop hits you slam down, taking him as deep as possible, and pray to god you're not hurting him. He moans loud when you clench hard again and again, twitching up into you as much as he can in your iron hold. 

You rest your forehead against his so you can whimper through the comedown. His hands cup your waist, thumbs rubbing soothing little circles as he looks back into your eyes. He brings one hand up to your cheek and pulls you into a kiss. 

Fuck. 

Finally. 

You didn't even realize you hadn’t been kissing. Too frantic to drain his blood and then to drain his balls. It feels better to kiss than to breathe and you reciprocate hungrily, still awash in endorphins. You open your mouth to him, letting him in. The slide of your tongues is immediate, delirious. He might as well be trying to swallow you. 

Eventually, your kisses become more languid as your pleasure slowly settles to a simmer. 

His remain full of desperation. 

You pull back to look at him and he chases your mouth. You dodge and put a hand on his chest again, keeping him there. 

You feel more sane than you have since the moment he cut himself and you see now through clear eyes how ruined he is. His chest is heaving and his hips continue to jerk up into yours futilely, unable to move as you continue to press him down. He's running his hands up and down your back, clutching at your ass and your sides like he can't decide where to put them. You stare too long and his brow, slack with pleasure, knits in frustration. 

“Ah, please, can you-, can we-, can we keep going?” He can barely get out the words as he writhes underneath you. 

It’s almost cute that you've brought him this high and now he can't do a thing to go higher. You leave him to struggle for a moment yet again, unable to help the smile that creeps over your face. More than ever you want to let him flip you, take out his frustrations, but the part of you that must still see him as some kind of prey just won't let it happen. He notices your grin and his expression becomes one of despair. 

“Noooo please please please, baby, come on, let me fuck you!” 

His huge blue eyes have you instantly weak. 

“Sorry, sorry, don't worry, you just looked so cute, I’ll help you.” You whisper as you lean back into his lips. 

Joost meets you feverishly, teeth clacking against yours, and gasping into your mouth as you finally start to move again. You’re oversensitive but it's not a bad feeling when you know what it's doing for him. You start off slow, but soon return to a healthy pace. You want to get him there too. 

He can barely keep the rhythm, his need overcoming him as he thrusts up furiously, cut-off groans escaping as he fucks you the way he wants. This and the slide of your tongues distracts you from the slide of his hand over your hip and you gasp when his thumb finds your clit. He swallows the noise, mouth recapturing yours immediately as his thumb works overtime. It makes you clench all over again and he keens. 

You didn’t expect to get off a second time but Joost’s desperation is infectious. The texture of his thumb rubbing you tirelessly in combination with his animalistic enthusiasm in your guts has you climbing quickly. Boobs bouncing so near his face become too much and he detaches from your mouth to bury his face in between, mouthing at the skin. His mustache tickles but it only adds to the onslaught of sensation. 

He changes from little circles to an up and down swipe over your bud that he can do in time with each crash of your hips. Each bounce punches little noises from you and he's murmuring obscenities into your skin to match them. You're almost there now. You can tell he is too. 

There's only one thing that can make this better. 

You sink your teeth into the muscle of his shoulder for a final time and fall apart. 

Joost all but screams as his head slams back into the cushions and his back arches as he shoots into you. You ride him through it, compromising your own orgasm this time to milk him for all he's worth. You stop drinking so you can watch him dissolve. His eyes are rolled back and each spasm of your pussy causes him to full-body convulse, face frozen in mind-rending ecstasy. 

The pulsing of his cock and each thick scalding spurt against your cervix are beyond vivid. You had no idea it would feel like this. His hips continue to jerk up into you like he can get even deeper, hands on your hips tight enough to bruise if you were capable of it.

Joost whimpers over and over as he twitches through the aftershocks. It takes a long time for him to come down. His eyes have slid shut and his chest continues to heave as you kiss at his temple.

You are starting to feel weird, tingly, more so than an afterglow usually does. The sensation grows quickly and before you know it it’s almost like being underwater. Your thoughts are sort of syrupy as you gaze down at his angelic face. Sounds are muffled and the whole room has become strangely pink, a bit fuzzy around the edges. He blinks slowly at you now, back on planet earth, and you gaze right back, smiling. He smiles too and pulls you into another kiss you return without coordination, sloppy and slow. 

He mumbles against your lips “Was that okay?” 

You should be asking him that. You open your mouth to speak. Or, you try, but no words come out. 

Hm?

Earlier, you just couldn't come up with the right words to tell him what you didn’t fully understand about your predatory instincts. Now, the words are right there but it's like the brain to mouth connection has been cut. It should be frustrating, alarming even, but you're too happy to just be in his arms.

“Baby?” 

You can only blink back, too blissed out to fight whatever haze you're in. He looks concerned now. 

“Schatje?” 

When you still don't answer, Joost pulls up at your hips and eases himself out, meeting no resistance. His cum oozes down your leg and the sight captures him for a moment but he tears his gaze away in favor of sitting forward and shifting you off him gently. Careful hands guide you to sit beside him but you're not helping at all and he ends up lowering you to the couch. You go so easily his concern melts into alarm. This is exactly what you wouldn't let him do before. 

He says your name, tension plain in his voice. 

“Are you okay? Do you want your shirt?” 

Distantly, you realize you're freaking him out. That and you're only wearing shredded sweatpants. Hah. 

It takes more effort than you would like, but you lift your hand to cup his cheek. Words are oddly impossible but you move your thumb back and forth, as soothing as you can. After a moment he seems to understand that something else is going on as his face softens, head turning to kiss at your hand. 

“Let me get a towel." 

He kicks his pants the rest of the way off from where they've come to pool at his ankles and moves to stand. The second his skin breaks contact the most pathetic whine bubbles from your throat. 

Joost looks at you sharply, eyes wide, and sits back down, smoothing his hand over your hip. 

“Okay, okay.” 

The tension leaves you just as fast as it came. You don’t know why but you need him to stay with a visceral, primal sort of impulse. Need him close. The idea of him leaving the room for even a moment feels wrong in a way you can't explain, so different from earlier when you itched to flee at the first opportunity. He gets the hint when you tug weakly at his arm, wedging himself down next to you and pulling you to his chest. He rubs his hand over your back soothingly as you snuffle at his skin, happy. 

It takes ten, maybe fifteen minutes, but slowly you start to feel less limp and floaty. The tell-tale tug behind your eyes that accompanies bloodlust is long gone and the probing tip of your tongue tells you your teeth have retracted. Finally your arms find the strength to come up and hold him back. Joost sighs in either contentment or relief, you’re not sure, and shuffles down to make eye contact. 

“Are you with me now? Where did you go?” 

You speak, only a little slurred. “I was right here, I don't-, I don't know. Felt fuzzy. Good fuzzy. Weird though.” 

“Were you still a little high or something? Are you still digesting that guy?”

 “I don't think so, I mean, there's still some of him in there but whatever he took wore off last night. I don’t know what this was…”

It really did feel like being high. You mentally rework the events of the past twelve or so hours, sifting for anything that might have caused it. Any additional source, any reason for delayed effects. It’s easier than you expect to sort through the memories now, to separate yourself from the horror of some of it when you’re here in his arms knowing your very worst fear didn’t come to pass. 

He’s here with you. He’s alive and you didn’t kill him and nothing you did matters since, against all odds, he doesn’t seem to care. He will bear the scars but in a way you feel just as marked in return, the slow seep of his cum from your puffy entrance reminding you of just how badly he needed you too. 

Oh. His cum.

“What?” He sees the quirk in your brow.

“I, wow. Um, remember when I said that I can smell when you're all horned up? Like your pheromones or something? I think it’s like that but like, concentrated. I mean…I’m saying I kinda think it was your cum…It all soaked in.” 

His dick twitches. “Right…Just vampire things.” 

You curl into him again, laughing. Logistics about lack of protection and potential interspecies compatibility can come later. “Mmm, yeah, speaking of, are you okay? I bit you a lot.” 

Joost hums, contemplative. 

“Yeah. It hurts, but yeah. I liked it. Told you it was gonna be okay.” 

It all comes back to you in a rush. 

You sit up quickly and he does too, startled. “Fuck! You fucking idiot! I could have killed you! What were you thinking?!” He opens his mouth but you are miles from done. “Why would you chase me? Did you want to die? I almost couldn't stop!”  

“But you did, I knew you would!” 

“No! You didn't know that!” You can’t stop now, he needs to understand. “I literally ate someone last night! I killed him and I ate him! Whole! Why doesn’t that land for you?!  Look at your fucking neck! When I bit you so hard it was because I wanted to take a real bite, do you get it?” 

His eyes are huge but he says nothing.

“Maybe I don't have a problem most of the time but you know I have a problem controlling myself with you! You know! I told you it wouldn’t end well, I told you we could never go there and you fucking pushed! I-” your voice wobbles. “-I could have killed you.” 

You’re breathing hard now, heart pounding alongside his.

“The reason I move all over the fucking world is because I’m running away from murder. I like it here, I like you, but-” You pause. No, no you're just gonna have to say it. “-this is just another stop on my getaway. You know how I feel about you but it was insane to think this wasn't gonna happen eventually.”

He looks so pained.

“Okay, but…what do you mean by ‘this’? Nothing bad happened? Not to us.”

“No you're not listening! You make me crazy!”

“No you're not listening!” He looks ready to cry again. “I’ve been telling you this whole time! You're so busy being afraid you don't trust the evidence that's right here! You have always controlled yourself. From the night we met until right now. Everything that's happened, maybe it was intense, but it wasn't bad. You never hurt me, not in a way I didn't want!”

You try to deny it but he cuts you off.

“You were so afraid of what would happen but now you know! It’s nothing like what happened with either of those guys and I honestly don’t know how to feel that you thought it would be!” 

His voice goes soft. “I mean- fuck, I don’t mean it like that. I just mean that I know you're just worried about me and it makes sense that you're worried but please, please, I promise that will never be me. That will never be us. Trust yourself like I trust you. I can't imagine what it's like to know you can do that stuff so I won't try to guess. But surviving what made you do it? Living your life knowing that it all happened? I feel lucky that I have you right here. Nothing like that will ever happen again. You're staying right here because I don't care what you did and this is nothing like that and it will never happen again because I’ll protect you too. 

For some reason, those last words are what get you.

The tears come before you even realize and Joost pulls you to his chest in an instant, frustration dissolving immediately as you start to full-on ugly cry. He holds you tight as he rocks you against him. 

You never knew you needed to hear it. All this time what you were capable of was just a fact, an inconvenient one that guided your choices, another facet of your new reality that you had to take care of because it was the only way forward and no one else could take care of it for you. No one else even knew. The idea that someone else on this earth might bear even a part of it, that they might take care of you, was an idea you had shredded and left behind to spare your own feelings so long ago that to feel like it’s possible again almost hurts. 

It never occurred to you that you could be lonely. As much as you always remained wistful for normalcy you were too busy enjoying the world in all its supernaturally unlocked detail. Now, hearing him repeat those words over and over into your hair you know you've been lying to yourself. 

You don't understand how he doesn't care about any of it. How he isn't scared. How he’s so sure. 

He keeps whispering sweet nothings as you shake apart and he holds you together.

“Don’t leave me.”

“Never leave me.”

“You won't hurt me.”

“I’ll protect you.”

“I love you.”

You clutch him tighter. You don’t need to understand. 

You’ll take it. You’ll take anything he gives you. 

Hours later, when both your tears have dried up and you’ve long lapsed into soft silence, heavy and comfortable in each other's arms, you continue to exchange small kisses and slow, sleepy touches. A thumb over his cheek bone, his palm cupping your face, your fingers in his hair, his hand gliding over your back. Over and over in a feedback loop of dull pulsing pleasure at the base of your skull. It’s a kind of comfort you didn’t know existed. 

Eventually, when the winter sun is high enough to break through the clouds and shine through the window, burning away every last shadow between your bare bodies, you both drag yourselves from the trance. His stomach growls audibly and you giggle as you’re reminded of the omelet that never was. You take his hand, kissing once at the small cut and then once at his answering smile before you stand. 

He laughs when you cringe at the stiffness of dried cum between your legs and preens over his newfound ability to get you quite literally ‘dick drunk’. When you step into the shower together he washes it off for you with gentle fingers. Joost lets you wash the blood from his own ragged gashes with closed eyes and deep stuttering sighs, and for the time being neither of you address the way his cock stirs. 

He dresses you in his clothes and takes you to the corner store, hand in hand where you buy new ingredients for a new meal. You cook together, him watching you more than anything, and no one cuts themselves this time. You eat together and promise him he can come with you when you get new keys from the landlady. 

When you both slip into pajamas again Joost opens a new toothbrush and puts it next to his without saying a word, hesitant but hopeful.

That night, when you sit on his balcony under the same blanket, underneath the same stars, and he looks at you like he’s not afraid anymore, like he knows he can keep you, telling him feels simple.

“I love you too.” 

This city is filthy. Littered with sin.

It's rainy, as it mostly always is, you figured the poor weather was a perpetual punishment for the city's wickedness. The rain brings with it fog, its thickness obscuring the view outside your bedroom window- it's nothing but a red haze, a reflection of the lights that lined the street. The area had left your living situation in less than ideal conditions- the persistent scent of sex and marijuana in the air, the chants and yells of rowdy tourists and perverts alike, gawking at the women in the windows that line the canal. Less than ideal, indeed, but a room was a room, and broke and in university you needed to live somewhere, even if you loathed the area. At least you had had a roof over your head.

You sit, perched on your window sill, watching as the fog rolls in. The rain beats down on the glass, and you're almost still surprised to still hear the chatter of people on the street. No rest for the wicked, you supposed, willing to brave the rain to indulge in their sin.

As much shame as it filled you with you had found yourself lately becoming curious about what had really been going on in the city streets below you. It made you feel dirty, tainted, thoughts of going out just for one night, just to see what it was like. Those sorts of thoughts troubled you, deeply- leaving you worried you would actually follow through on your curiosity and corrupt yourself.

The lights in your apartment flicker, startling you, a gasp falling from your lips as they shut off entirely. The storm, your power was out. You clench your jaw, finding yourself thankful, for once for the red lights outside your window, illuminating your room in the darkness. Though, it had brought with it an ominous glow, the faint red tint to your darkened apartment almost more scary than if you had been in pitch black.

You creep forward, wooden floorboards creaking beneath your feet with every cautious move. The sound makes you shiver- your body tensing, eager to get out into your living room as you grab the white prayer candle that sits on your bedside table.

You bite the insides of your cheeks, the whole scene was unsettling- the rain, the fog, the darkness, you find yourself peering over your shoulder, like you're in some sort of horror movie, unaware of who or what could be lurking in the shadows.

"Power's out?" The sudden voice startles you- you jump back slightly, jerking your head to the source of the voice. It would seem the only thing lurking in your apartment tonight was your creepy roommate. Not creepy in the way of him being a creep, but, spooky, something odd about him. Much like the rest of your living situation, this too was less than ideal, he had actually been the boyfriend of the girl you had initially moved in with, someone you had known through university who had also been looking for somewhere cheap to live- but when the two of them had broken up it was he who had stuck around in the apartment- much to your disappointment.

His name was Joost, a few years your senior- you knew he did music, though you've never heard it, and that he works at an internet cafe not far from here. You didn't know much about him outside of that, despite sharing an apartment together, and that had been the way you had intended to keep it. He freaked you out. Up at all hours of the night, yet you'd never seen him in the daytime, always bringing random people through to the apartment that you'd never see again- you presumed for sex, as he didn't seem to care much about the commotion you would often over hear, the gasping and moaning. Visually, too, you'd never seen anyone like him, tall, covered in tattoos, a strange haircut, a perpetual thick, dark ring around his eyes. His eyes, a pale blue- the most striking thing about him, there was almost a lifeless quality about them, one that sent shivers down your spine whenever he had looked at you.

You had tried your best to avoid him when you could, and it worked, for the most part, he practically locked himself in his room during the day, and at night he usually worked, or was out doing god only knows what. It was best that way, making sure you weren't around him for extended periods of time- much as the nightlife here had peaked your curiosity, Joost had too. His peculiarities intrigued you, feeling almost mesmerized whenever you had been around him. And when you weren't around him…you had found yourself thinking about him. The longer he was around, the more frequent your thoughts would become.

At first it was merely innocent, wondering what he did with his life, why he was so, for lack of a better word strange, but they would get worse. Your mere curiosity about Joost spiraling into almost obsession. Slowly your thoughts becoming lustful, staying up late, ear pressed against your bedroom wall listening in on he and whoever he had brought home for the night. It wasn't right, no, not the way your hands would roam your body as you listened, finding their way between your thighs, gently brushing over the fabric of your pajamas- though, it would never go much further than that, not as the realization of what you had been doing began to hit. You'd wind up utterly disgusted with yourself, tears welling in your eyes as you curled up in your bed, guilt swallowing you whole.

"Did I scare you?" He laughs, there's something mocking in his tone as he relaxes back into the couch, obviously much more comfortable in the darkness than you, "Sorry." He lets out another cold chuckle.

"Didn't think you were home." Your voice is meek, eyes falling to the ground, heart still racing from the startle.

"Don't sound so disappointed."

"I'm not," You mumble, your eyes flick up slightly, allowing yourself to catch another glimpse of him, before quickly averting your gaze once again.

"Lady of such few words," He starts, "You know, I'm starting to think that you don't like me…"

"That's not true." You continue to ease your way into the living room, it's more well-lit than your bedroom, large, curtainless windows letting in more light from the street. You'd much prefer being out here, but Joost's presence fills you with unease.

"Why so short with me then?"

"Sorry." You apologize, eager to just light your candle and get back to your room now.

"You're even quieter than usual," He muses, "Scared of the dark?"

"A little," You admit, clutching the white candle between your two hands, fingernails digging into the soft wax.

"Oh no," You can't tell if his sympathy is feigned or not, "Why don't you let me keep you company then?"

"No, it's ok. I'm fine." Your words are fast, short, like you're rushing to get them off your tongue. Afraid of what being around Joost for any extended period of time will do to you- already feeling as if his mere presence has corrupted your mind.

"Please?" … Is he begging?… "Come sit with me."

"Okay," You whisper, nodding slowly as you walk over to the couch. Your steps are cautious, heart pounding in your chest, wishing you could just resist him, it was so easy, beckoning you towards him with just a simple please.

You sit just about as far as you possibly could from Joost, on the opposite side of the couch, pressing yourself to its arm. You stare straight in front of you, soaking in the way the room fills with thick unease.

"You want to light that?"

"Huh?" You nearly gasp, head snapping in Joost's direction.

"The candle." He points to your lap.

"Oh-uh, could you?" You look down at the white candle, it's misshapen from use, little crescent moon shapes litter its sides from where you had dug your fingernails into it.

"Of course," He smiles, a glimmer of something in his eyes, you can't quite put your finger on it- it's almost devious, yet you can't help but smile back, like he's drawing you towards him.

Joost lifts his hips off the couch slightly as he reaches for the back pocket of his jeans, the tight fitted tank top he wears rides up his stomach slightly, exposing a strip of skin between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his pants. You bite the insides of your cheeks, noticing the trail of blonde hairs that trail from just under his belly button to below the buckle of his belt. You blink a few times, attempting to avert your gaze. How pathetic, weak, tempted by such a measly amount of flesh.

He settles back onto the couch, lighter in hand,

"Are you there?" He chuckles. You shut your eyes for a moment, embarrassed at how he always seemed to notice the small intricacies of your behavior.

"Y-eah." Your voice breaking for a moment, quickly shoving the candle away from you, eager to just have Joost light it now.

"What's the hurry," Joost extends a hand to grab it from you, his fingers brushing over yours as he reaches for the candle. They're like ice, the sudden sensation causing you to suck in a small gasp, "Is something wrong?*" He asks at your clear startle.

"You're so cold," You nearly whisper, shocked, horrified even. A sudden wave of concern overwhelms you, had something been wrong with him?

Your concern is merely met with a dry laugh, and a rhetorical, "You think so?" A small smirk appearing on his face as his hand climbs further up yours, fingers snaking around your wrist. You clutch the candle that still sits perched in your hand, your tight grip preventing your fingers from trembling in Joost's icy grip.

"A-are you okay? Are you sick?" Your face drops into a frown, your worry unwavering.

"Oh," He coos, his smirk still sticking to his lips, "You're too cute, I'm fine." He shakes his head, his grip suddenly loosening on your wrist, "Let me have this, hm?" As his other hand grabs the handle from your sturdy grasp. You remain in the same position even as the object is removed from your grip, your fingers remaining in the same position as your hand remains in front of you.

You can't help but continue to stare at Joost, eyes widening in bewilderment, he was a complete and utter mystery to you, an enigma. You didn't understand a thing about him, why he was the way he was, and why you found yourself so latched on to him. He seemed to intrigue you twice as much as he terrified you.

Your breath is shaky as you inhale

"Why are you so…"

"So…?" He trails off as his thumb flicks against the metallic wheel of his lighter, a small orange flame erupting, which he presses to the wick of the candle, "Cold?" He finishes.

"Yeah…" Exhale

"You really want to know?" He leans forward, placing the freshly lit candle onto the coffee table.

You nod, slowly, concerned about why he seemed so hesitant about telling you.

Joost's eyes dart around the room, cheeks hollowing as he bites the insides of them, giving the current conversation pause. Your breath feels stuck in your lungs, the tension suffocating. You figured this had probably been the longest you'd actually hung around Joost, usually doing your best to avoid him, god, you'd basically refuse to even make eye contact with him most of the time he was around.

"I don't know," He shakes his head, "I don't want to frighten you more than you already are."

"I'm not frightened!" You respond sharply, defensively, your voice raising what feels like a few octaves, as if you had something to prove.

"Oh no?" He raises an eyebrow, challenging your statement, "How come your heart is beating so fast?"

You place a hand to your chest, feeling the thumping of your heart beneath your palm, quick, unsteady, you are frightened, but it feels so pathetic hearing it out loud, Joost's near mockery setting you back into your most vulnerable state. Not just frightened, helpless.

"It is no-" You suddenly stop yourself, eyebrows furrowing, shaking your head, "How did you know how fast my heart is beating?" Your body grows stiff, what a peculiar thing for him to say.

"Lucky guess?" He shrugs, his words drawn out, like he isn't expecting you to believe him.

You feel yourself attempting to scoot away from Joost even further, as if you already aren't pushed into the arm of the couch. Silly girl, if you really wanted to get away, you'd get up and scurry back to your room now. Yet you stay put, that subconscious part of you that remains drawn to him weighing you down, keeping you right there on that couch.

Joost frowns, "I knew you were scared."

You cross your arms over your chest, shaking your head, adamant that you were indeed not scared.

"You're being weird." Your bottom lip jutting out, forming a pout, "What is wrong with you?" It comes out with less genuine concern for Joost, and more unease than you were anticipating.

"I don't think you would believe me even if I told you," He chuckles, seemingly unaffected by your anxious state, "But I could show you…" A smirk suddenly reappearing on his lips, eyes looking as if they've suddenly glazed over.

You feel your jaw slack, as if you're about to say something, anything, but all you can do is nod, eager to know what all of this show from Joost had been about, what this mysterious thing was.

It was Joost who was moving now, shifting over slightly, inching closer to you, but not enough to close the gap between the two of you. You can feel your muscles tense, body trembling, even with the remaining space on the couch Joost had almost been too close for comfort. Yet your worst thoughts wished he'd come closer, close enough to touch. You bite down, hard enough for a dull ache to creep into your jaw, wishing to purge yourself of those urges.

"Give me your hand," Joost asks, you can tell it's more of a command than a request, even behind the softness of his voice. You don't even think to ask why, why he could possibly need you to give him your hand, you just do, arms uncrossing, muscles relaxing as he takes your hand into his, the coldness of his flesh still sending shivers down your spine, small little goosebumps littering your skin.

You stare as Joost raises your knuckles to his lips, was it not only a few minutes ago that you had sat down here under the mere presumption you'd keep each other company until the power came back on? How quickly you had let things move, you should pull your hand back, swat him away, not let him get any closer. His lips brush against your fingers before he presses a kiss just above your knuckles. You'd never been kissed before, not by a guy anyways.

Never in your life had you felt yourself so close to succumbing to temptation. The pressure of years worth of repression weighing heavy on you, the cracks in your immaculacy long been formed, you know it's only a matter of time before you crumble to pieces.

Though, perhaps this did not really count, Joost's actions seemed chaste enough, in stark contrast with the noises you had usually heard coming from his room at night. A slight smile on your face, no, this seemed too gentle, too sweet, this could not be you giving into temptation.

Yet you can't help but wonder what this all has to do with what Joost had been meaning to show you, what all this has to do with why as your hand rests in his it feels almost as if you're touching a corpse.

Joost's lower lip drags upwards against your fingers, it's almost startling the lack of warmth that emanates from him, expecting his breath to be hot on your skin, yet still, he's ice cold. Still holding onto you, Joost twists your hand, forcing your palm open, his lips now against your wrist.

Joost inhales, breathing deeply, chest rising slowly, before he exhales at an equally steady pace,

"You…" He starts, before inhaling again, eyes closing as a smile tugs at his lips, exhale, "Smell delicious."

You furrow your eyebrows, your intrigue in Joost unable to override your unease with the comment, though, you supposed it had just been an odd way of saying he liked your perfume.

"Th…ank you?" Your voice wavers slightly, the tension of the situation mingling with the discomfort Joost had often brought you, the strange mix of emotions paralyzing you. All you can do is watch as Joost presses a soft kiss to your wrist. He can surely feel the way your fingers tremble as he holds them in his own hand, and how the veins in your wrist throb with trepidation.

Joost looks up for a moment, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity you had never quite seen.

"I'm sorry…" He starts, and at the two simple words you feel a pit forming in your stomach, as each second passes growing more anxious about what is to come next, "I'm sorry, I really don't want to scare you…. but you asked… and I just…don't think I can control myself."

It all feels so very strange, the way he speaks, is cryptic, like he's skirting around something, purposefully misleading you, leaving you out of the loop.

"Can't control yourself how-ahh!" A high pathetic yelp leaving your throat at the sharp, piercing sensation that enters your wrist, like nothing you had ever felt before. It's almost agonizing, eyes widening and filling with tears as you look down at Joost, teeth sinking into your skin.

If you pull your arm away he'll surely tear a chunk out of your flesh, his jaw clamped down tight, your eyes flick to your wrist, realizing he's broken more than just skin.

Your head tips back, chest rising as you suck in a sharp breath, eyes rolling backwards, your jaw tenses, you can't muster a sound, not even a scream as Joost's teeth dig into your wrist. Your body writhes, squirming uncontrollably, still careful not to make any sudden movements with your arm.

"Wh- what are you-" You manage to gasp out, breathy, guttural, sounds you've surely never made before- fitting, considering you've never experienced pain of this manner before, "Oh my god!" You're practically shrieking, you hope just this once the Lord will forgive you for using his name in vain, surely he'd understand the circumstances.

Suddenly- the pain ceases, or at the very least, eases. Your body trembles, tremors rocking you hard, yet if it wasn't for your nerves taking hold of you, you surely would have gone limp by now- your head fuzzy, you didn't even have to look down at your wrist to know you'd been losing blood. The wet, warmth that slid down to your hand was enough to alert you to the fact you were bleeding, how badly it was you were unsure of yet.

Slowly, you lift your head back up, your neck straining to maintain the weight.

You notice the way Joost looks up at you first, the sharp ache disappearing for a moment as your eyes meet his- wide, and icy blue. They're almost lifelike, but so mesmerizing in the ways that they are not, puzzled as you try to figure out what his gaze is missing, wondering how to make him whole.

Joost drops your wrist, limp, it falls to your lap, blood dripping onto the white fabric of your white, lacy nightgown. Your own injury seems so far from your mind however, not as you watch the crimson droplets slide down Joost's chin, his blood-stained lips curling into a smirk. He seems proud of himself, for goring you. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, not wanting to waste a drop of the bloody mess he's made of you.

Your teeth chatter, out of anxiety, and the lingering cold of his touch, you can still feel his icy fingers gripping into you even after he's let go.

It made so much sense now, the way Joost drew you to him, his strange behavior, why he only left the house at night, the noises you'd hear from his room, his coldness…

"The dead are meant to sleep until judgement… yet you walk among us…" You're thinking out loud more than you are talking to Joost, voice merely a whisper.

"You figured out what I am?" He finally speaks, voice low, sly. He's amused.

"Vampire."

"Very good," He nods slowly, he seems pleased but your own words echo in your ears at the accusation. Saying it out loud made it so real.

You look down into your lap, the sting of your wounds returning once your sights are set back onto the torn flesh of your wrist, the bleeding ceaseless, pooling on the white fabric below, staining- claiming the garment.

You can feel Joost's quiet satisfaction.

"You breathe… but you do not live" You shake your head, "There's no soul left in you… is there?" Your eyes widen at the realization. He's just wrong. Him. A perversion of everything you'd ever been taught, a body that lives on instead of a soul. "No soul." You repeat once again, bewildered as you shake your head, like that was the worst thing about this.

No life, no light, no redemption on the other side. You wonder about the man Joost was, who he could have been, You feel your eyes well up with tears, a quiet mourning for the Joost you never knew.

Selfishly- you're mourning for yourself too, the nights you'd stayed up, plagued with thoughts of him, delicate fingers inching closer and closer to bringing yourself to sin- it had been all for not. Your temptation now seemed almost unforgivable. Lust for a man was one thing, but lust for something so unholy, whose mere existence spat in the face of the life God had breathed from his very own nostrils into his creation. How could you repent?

Surely, you're mourning is for the purity of your soul, certainly, not for what could have been.

"No soul?" He asks. You nod. Just body, just impulse. "Who's to say?" He shrugs, "I still feel things…" He trails off for a moment before pausing, gaze meeting yours once again, forcing your breath to catch in your lungs over the intensity of his stare. It's haunting now, knowing the truth, knowing what was missing from behind those beautiful blue eyes, "… You feel them too, don't you?"

Your lips part, but words fail you, your mind a mess, the loss of blood doesn't help.

Joost picks your hand back up from your lap, your wrist limp in his grasp. He's careful not to stick his fingers near the open wounds, his icy palm simply holding your wrist.

"I know that it hurt you…" His voice grows softer, as if he's about to apologize for the carnage he caused, "Why didn't you tell me to stop?"

The simple four letter word hadn't even occurred to you, and perhaps you could blame it on the pain, the sheer agony that overtook you as his teeth tore into your flesh. But you knew what Joost had been getting at- you didn't want him to.

That thought terrifies you more than his fangs ever could, knowing if he asked you'd let him drink from you again and again.

You don't answer Joost, refusing to give him the satisfaction of admitting to what he already knows is true. You had already given up so much to him tonight, you needed to at least save something for yourself.

"Does it scare you?" He asks

Your head perks up at the question, confused. Lots of things scare you now, perhaps everything at this moment was frightening.

"Does what scare me?"

"That you still want it." His voice is low, teasing, "Want me."

Joost's fingers tighten around your already aching wrist, a sharp sting shooting up your arm as his fingertips graze over the bites he's left in your flesh. A moan escapes you, one you attempt to bite back, to hide that it is not entirely out of pain.

You wince, wanting nothing more than to curl up inside yourself and disappear. You're crumbling under the heavy weight of his gaze.

"You've bewitched me…" Your muttered words are nothing more than a faint accusation, a desire to blame the lapses in your piety in something other than yourself, "You did this."

"No," Joost shakes his head in earnest, "I'm a man of many talents…but mind control isn't one of them. Your thoughts are your own."

Your lip begins to quiver, the tears that had begun to well in your eyes ready to spill,

"They can't…" You whisper, "No," You blink as the small, wet, droplets finally leak down your cheek, looking up, staring into the dark of the apartment, "God, forgive me." You choke, your pleading weak as Joost remains in front of you, his mere presence slowly draining you of your desire to remain faithful.

You pull back your hand, yet the cool of his palm lingers. The candle Joost had lit flickers in your periphery, you glance toward it, the wax you'd prayed over so many times, rosary gripped tight between your fingers.

You'd lost it now, mind racing, prayer after prayer scrambles in your mind, fragments of pleas for protection, yet you cannot fully find the words.

"Why fight it?" Joost seems, almost fascinated by your state, his question raw, inquisitive.

"Because." Your face twists up as you spit the short word back at Joost, "I'm not like you."

"Like me?" He seems taken aback, almost offended, like this whole ordeal hasn't all been about how different he is than you.

"Yes, like you, a monster." Your eyes widen in terror, as it settles on your tongue, that's truly what he is. The type of creature great works of horror are written about, has been living amongst you.

"You think being human is all that makes you good?"

"Yes, Joost," His name feels oddly pleasant in your mouth, sweeter than you had expected, "Jo…" You have to stop yourself from saying it again, "My soul matters!"

"If your soul matters so much, then why do you deny what it so obviously wants?"

"I want…" You take in a deep breath, exhaling with equal force, a tingle of anger quivering beneath you, who is Joost to tell you what you want? "I want to be good. I want to be more than desire."

"So you do desire me?" A grin spreads across his lips, his teeth still marked with your blood, a stark reminder of who Joost was, and what he had done to you, making simple desire not-so-simple.

"I prayed for this feeling to pass," You whisper, "I begged for it to go away." You grit your teeth,

"And did it?"

"No," You concede, "B-but, that doesn't make it right."

"But it's real, stop denying it, it's you."

"I wish it wasn't." You shake your head, "I should be scared of you." Your voice breaks once more, tears continuing to slip down your cheeks, your head beginning to ache from the strain, "But I'm just so much more scared of myself… how finding out what you are has only made me want you more."

Joost's icy palm grazes your cheek, his thumb stretching out to wipe away a singular tear. You don't mean to, but you find yourself leaning into his touch, for as cold and as lifeless as it was, it was a comforting contrast to the heat of the moment.

"I know how it feels…" Joost sighs, continuing to brush the pad of his thumb to your cheek, "…to be afraid of yourself."

"Do you really know how to feel?" You ask in desperation, as if Joost's capability for feeling would make your predicament any more salvageable, as if falling for an undead creature of the night was made any more worthy of forgiveness merely because he could feel?

"I was once just a man."

"I wish I could have known him…" That feeling of grief returning, not for someone you lost but from someone you'll never know.

You picture him then, warm blooded, full of life. You imagine what the sun must look like in the reflection of his pale blue eyes, how they had probably made him sensitive to the light, even then- squinting, nose scrunched up with a sweet smile on his light pink lips, full of real color, not merely just stained with blood.

You wonder if that part of him is still inside, and if Joost mourns who he used to be too.

"I'm not so different now," He chuckles wryly, "Please, just let me show you."

You nod, barely a small trembling movement of permission. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, shaking your entire body. You feel it in your stomach, your throat, your fingertips as it pounds into you.

You know Joost can hear it too, its frantic rhythm calling to a more monstrous part of him. You can't help but think about how many hearts he must have had before yours, how many beat under his touch- in fear, in lust. Still, he listens as if your heartbeat is the only one he's ever known.

Joost leans forward, but before you even have a moment to catch what he's doing his lips are on yours, nearly stealing the breath from your lungs. It wasn't quite what you had imagined for your first kiss, certainly, a lot more blood than you had ever anticipated any kisses to be filled with. The bitter, metallic taste coats the inside of your mouth, you wished it had made you want to gag, to pull away, the stark reminder of what Joost is.

But you couldn't, the taste was enticing, for all of its tang, and unpleasantness, it was you, the very blood that kept you alive now being brought back to you.

You part your lips, both in surrender and in anxious curiosity- was this what Eve felt when she had tasted the forbidden fruit? The hunger, the unbearable need to know.

Joost's other hand finds its way to your waist, gripping at the soft, silky material of your slip, his tight grasp anchoring you to the couch, like you still may flee. But you won't, and you both know it.

Your lips struggle to find Joost's pace, the totality of the night working against you in keeping up with him. Yet you try, fearing if you pull away even for a moment, even just to catch your breath this will all disappear.

Joost's hand slips from your cheek down to your neck, cold fingers digging into the warm flesh just below your ear. You wonder if he feels the way your pulse throbs under his touch, if it brings out some sort of hunger within him. You can't but almost wish that it does, some sick desire within you that yearns to feel his teeth in you again, for you to be what sustains his life, at least for a little while. You need him to want you for more than just this.

You reach out a hand, placing your palm to his chest, feeling the thin fabric of his white tank top beneath you- you want to feel him really feel him, skin to skin.

"Are you still fighting me?" He asks, pulling away slightly, his bottom lip still dragging across yours, perhaps mistaking your gesture for a desire to create space between the two of you. You feel his breath on your face as he speaks from such close proximity, it's warm, it almost surprises you, half expecting his breath to be just as cold as his touch.

"I should be."

"But you aren't." Joost pulls back even farther, his lips no longer touching yours, "Look at me." His words aren't demanding, but out of a genuine desire to see the whole of your face, to take in the entirety of you.

You concede, eyes locking with his once more, a mutual desire heavy in the way the two of you gaze at each other- the longing is intense, as if Joost had been some long lost lover of yours that you had gone years without seeing, and not someone who had been practically a stranger to you.

He's more handsome than ever now, even with the dried, red stains that still hang around his lips, and disheveled hair, the moment only had made your attraction to him grow.

"Tell me you want this."

"Don't… don't make me say it." Your bottom lip pokes out, quivering as your muscles form a pout, no- once again, saying it made it real. It seemed much easier to beg for forgiveness when your sins were hypothetical, but now that the opportunity sat right in front of you…

"Yes," His voice is breathy, pathetic, almost begging, "I need to hear you say it. Need to know you want it. This could ruin you… I could ruin you."

You smile, tear streaked and trembling,

"You already have."

Joost smiles back, yet you can't quite tell if it's with pride or shame, perhaps a strange mixture of the two.

"Then why are you hesitating?" He asks, "I need to hear you say you want this."

Truthfully, you didn't know what this was- for him to feed on you again? To be turned?… Perhaps something more intimate? Did it really matter, you wanted all of the above, you wanted him.

"I want…" You inhale, holding the breath in your throat, letting it suffocate you for a moment before you finally speak, "You." Your final word shaky, filled with tension, like you've just confessed and you're waiting to receive your penance, "All of you."

Joost's expression softens into something painfully tender, "All of me?" He repeats, "You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"Maybe not," You whisper, "But I want to find out."

Joost nods, wordlessly, rather reserving the moment to take you in, examine your state, how quickly he'd gotten you undone for him.

Not even the chill of Joost's touch can save you from the thick, humid tension that surrounds you, the only thing sharp enough to tear through it was Joost's teeth- knowing it was just a matter of time before he was sinking them into you again.

The thought sends a shock wave throughout your body, feeling a familiar tingling sensation down your legs, a warmth growing in your lower belly. It had been that same feeling that had plagued you so often late at night, the one that had you folding in on yourself, sobbing, begging for forgiveness.

But it seemed right now, now that your desire was something real, tangible, in front of you.

"Will it hurt?" Again, you're not quite sure what you're asking about, unsure of where Joost intends on leading the night- your utter inexperience with men, much less vampires, leaving you entirely in the dark on this.

"Will what hurt?" He raises an eyebrow, clearly needing clarification, "What do you want, hm?" He hums, and he's really asking, his voice low, mellow, ready to give you whatever it is you ask for.

But you don't want to say it, you don't want to ask- you wouldn't even know how to. All you knew was the deep pit that was settled in you, a hole that yearned to be filled, a craving that needed to be satisfied. You open your mouth, but the words elude you- it isn't a feeling you know how to articulate, and it feels so heavy, so wrong even if you could do so,

"I guess," You drop your gaze sinking down into your lap, it shouldn't be so hard, you'd already given everything else up tonight, why not this? A small laugh escapes you, finding humor in the awkward way your brain had found away to skirt around most of Joost's questions, "Well, I guess I was just hoping you wanted me for more than just a meal."

"Oh," He sighs, his thumb rubbing at the side of your neck, feeling the way your artery thumps below him, a sickly sweet smile on his face, like he's genuinely finding some sympathy for you, like there's something really beating in the dark cavity of his chest. "I should have known." He chuckles slightly- it's quick, dry, a small puff of air leaving his nostrils as he tilts his head, deepening his gaze towards you, "You're a virgin, aren't you?"

You grit your teeth, the small phrase feeling more like an accusation than a question. You aren't ashamed of that fact, no, before tonight you had intended to keep it that way. But the deep knowledge of your inexperience pains you in the face of Joost, who you're sure has done this time and time before. Jealousy, maybe.

Joost sees the tension in his face, his smile faltering, not entirely, but just enough to show something quieter, gentler- not that you notice.

"It's not such a bad thing, you know?" His hand slides up to your chin, fingers pushing up to get you to look at him, but even as your eyes meet his level, you avert your gaze, staring past him, out at the window that's opposite you, taking in the misty, red glow, "I'll try to be gentle," He pauses, "If that's what you want, I mean- Well, I'm hardly ever anyone's first."

You fixed your gaze, his words settling uncomfortably in your ears- a confirmation of how many times over he's done this before. You blink a few times, wondering if you should stay, for as much as you wanted him you couldn't stand the thought of this not meaning anything, of you just being another fix.

"I didn't mean it like that," He says, softer now, "It's kind of sweet, you know? If you'll let me…"

You don't speak, deep i thought about what's to happen next,

"I know what I must look like to you," His hands slipping back down to your neck, thumb brushing over your pulse again, his touch feather light. He ducks his head slightly allowing you the chance to look down at him the other way around, to be something other than a predator, "That I'm careless… I am… I've fed, and fucked, and ruined and been ruined… But I need you to know I feel too."

His words echo, he feels too, still it's hard to believe, even for how many times tonight he's repeated it. You search his face for the detachment you'd feared, trying to grasp what he really is. But you don't find it, even in the depths of those lifeless blue eyes, there's something there, something that almost makes him feel human.

"I want to know what you feel." Your voice full of longing, desperate to know what this means to him- if it's all really worth turning your back on your faith for, if he's worth forsaking everything you'd ever believed in, "If it's something more than hunger."

"I couldn't put a name to it," Joost shakes his head, "Not hunger, it's a need far deeper, less primal- I-" He stops for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows, you watch as he seems to attempt to decipher his feelings in real time, waiting with baited breath for what he says next, "This feeling… it reminds me of who I used to be."

Your eyes widen, intrigued, desperate to bring whatever life was still left in Joost to the surface, anxious that feeling within him will flee once the moment passes.

"I'm worried," You sigh, voice small, "That this is just a fleeting feeling," You bite the inside of your cheeks, unsure of how to proceed, "What if, whatever happens tonight- what if I like it, what if I want it again?"

Joost had done little more but kiss you tonight, yet still, you could feel what was beginning to burn inside you. If you had been so willing to give everything up for him, you needed him to do the same, to relinquish any desires he'd have for anyone that wasn't you. Never wanting him to spill the blood of another again, only you, you craved the feeling of being his.

"Isn't that the best part of being with a vampire?" Joost asks, his lips curling into a rigid smile, "That you can have me forever."

You swallow down Joost's words, the weight of forever sinking straight into your stomach. Forever, you know it's as much a curse as it is a gift.

"Will that be enough?" You ask, timid, "Me, forever?"

Joost's lips remain upright, still bent into a smile,

"There's only one way to find out…" He trails off, hand falling from your neck, his palm traces down your arm, you shiver, hoping one day you'll get used to the cool of his touch. Your skin pebbled with small goosebumps under where he's touched, hairs standing on end, his hand finds yours, fingers intertwining, "Can I bring you somewhere more comfortable? To your room?"

You nod, slowly, allowing him to get up and lead you out of the living room. The apartment is silent, save for the creak of the floorboards beneath your anxious steps, and the heavy patter of the rain outside.

You're so caught up in what's to come next you've hardly realized you've reached your room until Joost is stopping, just before the threshold. You know by stepping in you're sealing your fate, that you'll be damning yourself by welcoming him in.

Your jaw clenches as you take the first step into the darkness of your bedroom, the streetlights outside providing enough light to just barely make out the surface of things.

You turn back at Joost, who's still standing just outside the door frame,

"I thought vampires only needed to be welcomed inside someone's home," Your statement is said half in earnest, curious about what Joost's affliction actually entailed, what rules he was bound by and what was merely a product of Hollywood's imagination.

"I don't usually wait for an invitation… but now it feels wrong not to."

"Please," You sigh, your hand still in his, digging your fingers into the valleys between his knuckles, pulling at his arm, a beg for him to join you in your room.

Wordlessly- Joost complies, stepping through the threshold, closing the door behind him. The thunk of the door echoes in your ears, signaling to you there was really no turning back now, and that the night had really only just begun.

It's like the temperature of the room shifts with him- colder now. But it only makes you all the more eager, to feel more than just his presence.

"Lay down with me?" You ask, meek, unsure of how to go about these sorts of things, but you know you want to get to your bed and to share that space with Joost.

Joost tilts his head in the direction of your bed, beckoning you to walk over, your hand still clasped over his.

As you near the edge of your bed, Joost slips his hands from yours, to reach for your waist instead, guiding you down to sit with him, the mattress giving slightly under the weight- creaking softly.

Joost hums, the sound low in his throat, as he begins to lower himself beside you, the bed once again shifting under the length of his body. You follow his movements, his hand still pressed to your waist to guide you with him. You lay at your side, head propped up on your flimsy pillows, facing him.

What little light seeps from the windows is just enough for you to make out Joost's features, but you can hardly take a moment to marvel at him, distracted by the way your lips ache, puffy and throbbing, eager to feel him on them again.

"Please, can I kiss you again," Your voice is hoarse, ready to plead for the opportunity.

Joost's grip tightens on your waist, pulling your hip closer to him,

"Oh," He smirks, his voice low and even, a stark contrast to the nerves in yours, "You don't even have to ask, come here." He finally pulls you to him, your hip connecting with the thick leather of his belt.

It's quick- the way his lips stick to yours, finding a perfect rhythm. Each kiss is deliberate, savoring the way the space between your lips close, as if it will be your last. That vague metallic taste remains on Joost's tongue- and for a split moment you're struck worth worry, that you'll grow to enjoy its bitterness, even as a mere mortal, on account of the way it reminds you of Joost.

Joost's fingertips dig further into the slippery silk fabric of your nightgown, pressing further into your flesh, massaging gently as he rocks you back and forth in the kiss. You push yourself into his touch, hips steadily gyrating, almost instinctively.

Joost's teeth catch your lower lip, giving it a slight pinch before returning to the kiss. A small, high pitched whimper escapes your mouth between movements at the twinge, and you can feel Joost smile into the kiss at your reaction.

Your hand snakes up his side, finally getting to really feel Joost under your touch. You want your hands all over him, for no surface of his flesh to go unscathed by your fingertips. You grip onto his shoulder, fingernails digging deep into his bicep, surely leaving little indents as you crane your neck to deepen the kiss.

Your movements begin to become sloppy, each kiss less deliberate and more hungry, tongue escaping your lips, just as eager to consume as he is. You almost don't realize how cold he is under your touch, and for a moment he seems just as alive as you are.

Joost shifts slightly, rolling you with him so your back fully hits the mattress, his body hovering over yours. He holds himself above you, forcing you to stare up at him once again. He's much more intimidating like this, as if that was even possible. He stares down at you, eyes still striking even in the dark of the room, his hunger apparent in his glassy gaze, eyes trained on your body, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey.

But even as Joost is damn close to feeding on you again, you can't help but feel like you need this just as much as him, that you'd let him feed on you again and again- desperate for you and you alone to satiate his hunger.

"So impolite of me," Joost's voice soft as silk as that familiar smile creeps onto his face, "Sunk my teeth into you and I never even told you…" He shakes his head, pausing for a moment, "How beautiful I think you are."

Even as Joost is ice cold, you feel yourself growing hot, the mixture of the intensity of the moment, Joost's sharp gaze, and sweet words are enough to make you feel like you are burning up. You let your lips curl upwards, reveling in his compliments as he continues.

"Really," His voice earnest, eyes staring deep into yours, "Beautiful, like nothing I've ever seen."

You almost want to turn away, to avert your gaze and cower into the pillow as the blood rushes to your cheeks, a small giggle leaving your lips, a testament to your shyness in the situation. You'd never been called beautiful in such a way before, sure, platonic compliments from friends, or cheesy remarks from family- but not like this.

Not in the way where you wanted him to see more of you, ready to bare it all just so you can hear that word again.

Joost's weight shifts as he leans down to kiss you again. Once more, his movements beginning, tender and slow. You kiss him back with equal tenderness, legs parting so he can better fit between him, his weight shifting to his knees. Your thighs stretch to either side of him, knees bending, cradling his hips, the fabric of your nightgown lifts up, pooling at your upper thighs. At the side of your head Joost holds the rest of his weight on his forearm, using his freehand to trace down the freshly exposed skin of your leg.

At first his hand remains on the outer part of your thigh, brushing back and forth, a shiver coursing through you as goosebumps litter your skin. Joost allows you a moment to get used to the chill of his touch before his hand slowly rolls down to your knee, thumb tucking in at the back of your leg, gently guiding it down more, spreading your legs further.

It's a move so small, but you can't help but gasp, messing up the rhythm of the kiss as you try to catch your escaped breath.

Joost's hand begins to trace further up your leg, and you feel a twitch in between your thighs. The sensation almost makes you gasp again, your back arching into the feeling- you'd never come so close to experiencing something like this, your nerves now exposed to something entirely new, the pulsing between your legs is almost entirely foreign. It's almost like an ache, something that desperately needs tending to.

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, your body tensing with each slight move Joost's hand makes upwards,

"Tell me again that you want this," Joost suddenly breaks away from this kiss, his voice breathy- the coolness of his demeanor slipping for just a moment, revealing his utter desperation.

"Yes, please" You inhale, the pitch of your voice raising, you arch your back again, the control your body seems to have over you is startling. Your whole life you'd worked to not just deny, but overcome your flesh, but now you were held captive by it, your every move controlled by instinct and pure carnal desire, "Please," You mewl, "I want this, I want you. All of you."

Joost hums, gently nuzzling his nose against yours, lips just barely brushing against each other, his breath is cold as he exhales,

"Okay, needy girl," You can't quite tell if he's mocking you, but it's true, you are needy for him, "I'm gonna hold you to that." By now he's holding the innermost part of your thigh, right where it connects to your hip, fingers brushing against the edge of your underwear.

He's yet to resume kissing you, the only audible sound in the room are your trembling breaths, chest heaving as deep as it can, your breath surely hot on Joost's face. It's pathetic really, but you can't help yourself, far too caught up in the moment to attempt to collect yourself, or at the very least pretend to.

Joost's head suddenly dips, his lips now at your jaw, pecking lightly before beginning to place, slow, languid kisses to the bone. Your body curves into his touch, back raising off the mattress, chest raising to his. You throw your arms around Joost's back, desperate to keep him close to you, fingertips once again digging into the skin exposed by the back of his tank top.

The pace of your breathing only intensifies as Joost's lips trail down lower, leaving your jaw and beginning to suck at the throbbing artery in your neck. You tip your head to the side, allowing him greater access to you, welcoming whatever was to happen next.

It almost surprises you how well Joost can pace himself, so close to what he desires more than anything- the very thing that keeps him alive, and yet he denies himself again and again as his teeth don't even do as much as graze your neck, with kiss after kiss. That same restraint cannot be said for you, squirming beneath Joost, each kiss from his lips, or lick from his tongue only making you more, and more desperate, hips bucking in an attempt to get Joost to move his hand. Yet he doesn't budge.

At the same time you begin to feel Joost's hips pressing into you, yet from his position kneeled between your legs you can't feel much, the mere sensation of his fingertips brushing against the edge of the fabric of your underwear utterly overwhelming your senses.

Joost nuzzles his face into your neck, his cheek rubbing against you,

"You're just so warm," He sighs, "So full of life, I almost feel bad to take that from you, and fill you with anything else."

"No," You huff, "Take- take it I'm yours." You don't stutter out of anxiety but out of the way your desire begins to consume you, your brain becoming fuzzy as the only thing you can think about is him.

"Trust me," Joost purrs before pressing a quick peck to the inside of your neck, "I will."

Immediately, a breathy, high mewl escapes your throat as Joost's hand finally moves, a single finger brushing over the crotch of your underwear. The single touch, as Joost grazes your core sends a sharp, intense pang through you, your body twitching.

"Wooow," Joost muses, "You've really never been touched like this at all, have you?"

You cannot muster up a verbal reply, you only thrash your head back and forth against the pillow, bumping into his cheek a few times, signaling a no.

"Yeah," Joost breathes out, "Maybe you'll be too sensitive then… maybe I shouldn't-"

"No. Nono- I'm, please, I'm fine." The thought of this stopping now, of Joost slipping through your hands, it's all too much to bear, and all you can do is babble mindlessly, begging him to keep going.

Joost chuckles, his short laughter- dry.

"Kidding, of course," You can all but hear the smirk in his voice, "That would be evil of me. No, I wouldn't do that to you." Joost places a thumb to the soft, cotton fabric of your panties, tapping right above your clit, each short movement sending jolts down your legs, you can't even get out a sigh of relief, breath getting caught in your throat.

His tapping turns to long, gentle circles, at a pace, even for your inexperience feels agonizingly slow. Still, all you can do is grip into the back of his shoulders, savoring every drawn out touch, Joost's fingers every once and awhile tracing down the crotch of your underwear, before returning. With your head tipped back on the pillow, and your jaw slacked open, short breaths and little whimpers leave your mouth.

Perhaps Joost was right about your sensitivity, legs beginning to tremble around him despite him still only touching above fabric. Maybe you wouldn't be able to handle the real thing. But you have to try.

"More," You rasp out, anxious to take things further, "Please, more." You couldn't believe yourself, it was like someone had completely taken over your body, someone you didn't recognize. But it was you, you who was begging for sin, to indulge in this wickedness with someone who strayed so far from the divine.

"What do you want?" Joost asks, voice low, a certain liquidity to it, "This?" His finger slips into your underwear, pulling them to the side, the sudden rush of air in contact with wet skin sending a chill through you, making you feel all the more exposed. Your legs almost instinctively snap shut at the feeling of Joost's cold finger brushing between your slick, a slight yelp leaving your lips, a feeling unlike anything you ever felt before, forcing your eyes to screw shut. "Hey!" Joost chastises as your knees bump his side, a result of your legs attempting to close, "I know," He sighs, "But if you can't keep your legs open I can't go any further."

Slowly, your legs begin to part again as you nod, knees returning back to their original position. Joost continues to run a single finger up and down your folds, his motions still slow, on the brink of teasing. Nevertheless, it's enough for you to get some sensation out of, your eyes remaining shut tight as your face switches between screwing up tight, or your jaw almost becoming entirely unhinged.

Your small, soft, whines begin to build into something louder, more reactive as Joost's movements become less and less lazy and more deliberate. Nudging you with the side of his face, he knocks your head to the side, giving himself access- once again, to your neck. He returns his lips to you, laying his tongue flat against a throbbing artery before he presses a wet kiss to the same spot. The feeling of having Joost in two places at once is almost too much, but he seems to pay no mind to your squirming, almost mindlessly continuing on with what he's been doing.

You feel Joost's hand slip from where it had been, his palm suddenly pressing against your clit. He takes a moment to find where he wants to be, still preoccupied with his head in your neck. You feel a finger beginning to spread your folds, another sliding towards your entrance, circling for a moment before beginning to slip in.

The sensation is nothing like you've felt before, it's only a finger, yet the stretch is noticeable, foreign- not what you had been expecting it to be. You wince, at the sensation, Joost suddenly stopping.

"Shit-" He mutters against your neck, before pressing another kiss just below your ear, "Please, please sweetie, relax," He breathes, the simple pet name sweetie ringing in your ear, like you were something to him- you are something to him, "It will be uncomfortable if you keep being so tense."

"Oh- uh" You mumble, unsure of how to suddenly just loosen up, years of being taught to fear and prolong this very moment, were hitting you all at once. Every single echo of priests, or Sunday school teachers drilling it into you that this was meant to be saved for marriage, that it shouldn't be done out of pleasure but purely for the sake of having children rattles down the corridors of your mind. Your eyes begin to well up with tears, guilt beginning to creep back into your body.

With a sniffle, tears are beginning to spill out of your eyes, and no longer are your fingertips digging into Joost's shoulders, but you've fully wrapped your arms around him, pulling him even closer to you, his weight collapsing onto your chest.

Joost stops kissing you for a moment, clearly caught off guard for your sudden, seeming need for, a more wholesome form of affection. His hand falls from between your thighs, sliding up your leg to rest on your hip now.

"You're okay," He assures, "Let me sit up, mkay?*"

You nod, letting go of your grip on him, his free hand making your pillow dip as he uses it to prop himself back up. Resting on his shins, Joost still sits between your legs, looking down at you. You can hardly look up at him through your tear-stained eyes, for as guilty as you felt about betraying your faith, you had still felt all the more guilty for Joost having to deal with it- to make him bear the brunt of your anxieties.

"My poor crybaby," A smile pulling at his mouth, half mocking, half affectionate. He outstretches his hand, brushing your cheek with his thumb, far too affectionate for him to be genuinely mocking you, "What happened, huh?"

"Nothing," You sniffle, turning to lay your head on the side, so you don't have to look at him, "Just give me a second- it's just all so new-" You nuzzle your head against the pillow, attempting to dry your tears, "I don't want to stop… but it's just…" You move your head once again, looking back up at him, "I'm scared." You whisper, barely able to muster the confession out.

Joost nods, as if he could possibly understand. He tilts his head, lips slightly parted,

"You've been so good your whole life, haven't you?" his voice low, but above a whisper, "Scared of stepping out of line now, with me?"

You swallow hard, throat growing tight- his words cutting straight through the noise in your mind. You nod. Exactly

Joost brushes his palm against your upper thigh, rubbing affectionately, betraying the darker look in his eyes,

"You want this though, don't you?"

Once again, you nod.

"Good," He murmurs, "That's good." It isn't so much of a praise as it is approval, "Let's try again then, hm? Something different this time."

You smile slightly, blinking away the remaining tears in your eyes.

"Sit up, pretty."

You oblige, firmly planing your hands on either side of you, rising up from your spot on the bed. Joost's palm returns to your cheek after you sit up, thumb dragging down your bottom lip, an almost cruel smile on his face.

"How about you take the lead for a little bit…" He suggests, and this puzzles you- you, take the lead? As if you had any clue what you were doing.

Joost must notice your face, the way your eyebrows furrow, eyelids squinting as if you can't figure out what to do next.

"Just…" He starts, "I think you'll feel better if things start on your terms, tell me what you want, sweetie, anything."

You blink for a moment, eyes wide, like there isn't a single thought behind them. Oh but there was, your mind reeling, looking for the right thing to say,

"Anything," He repeats again, his smile softening to something more reassuring, "No shame."

"Um…" You start, "Okay," You sigh, "Well, I think I'll feel more comfortable, if we're both undressed."

"I think so too…" Joost nods, slowly, measured, "Do you want to undress me, or should I?"

You pause for a moment, but you don't really need to think about it,

"C-can I?" Your voice is meek, as if Joost hadn't emphasized there was no shame, as if he hadn't just asked if you wanted to do this.

"That's what I hoped you'd say."

Joost gets off the bed, the mattress shifting slightly as his weight lifts from it, moving to stand in front of you. He's so much taller now, his crotch just below eye-level as you move to swing your legs over the side of the bed.

"I'm all yours." Joost smirks.

You take a moment to look Joost up and down, before reaching your hands out with trepidation. Your arms in front of you, your eyes suddenly return to your wrist, almost forgetting the wound Joost had left on it, a not so subtle reminder of who he really was, what you were really dealing with. Yet it doesn't make you hesitate, not as your fingertips settle on the waistband of his jeans, feeling the rough denim beneath them for a moment before tracing down to the large metal buckle of his belt.

It's too dark to make out the design on it, but you let yourself feel its bumps and grooves, pausing for a moment, deciding how to make your move. You slide your thumb under the buckle, twisting your uninjured wrist to slowly pull the leather from the loops of his jeans. You then place the palm of your other hand against the metal buckle, steadying yourself, wincing as you apply pressure against your injured wrist. Still- you continue, tugging at the end of Joost's belt to fully free it from his jeans.

It startles you slightly, once the buckle hits the hard wood of your floor, body twitching at the high pitched sound. It calls you back to the moment, what you were doing, thumbing the button on his jeans. You don't bother to look up at Joost as you fumble with the small, circular metal, you can already feel his eyes searing into the top of your head, and you fear you'll crumble entirely under the weight of his gaze.

Finally, once the button is undone you can un-zipper his jeans, you anchor your opposite hand to his upper thigh as you tug at the zipper, sliding down its length with very little force. You hear Joost inhale deeply as your fingers brush over his crotch, feeling him beginning to stiffen under your light touch.

Once Joost's zipper is undone you finally manage to look up at Joost, eyes searching for permission to carry on, despite already knowing you had it. Still, even as Joost suggested that you take the lead you still felt like you needed him to guide you, desiring his approval at every step of this process.

Joost knocks his head back slightly, chin flicking upward to beckon you to go forward. You make a small nodding motion with your head as Joost affirms what you already knew what you should do. You push your thumbs into the waistband of Joost's jeans, fingers lightly brushing against the soft skin of his lower stomach as they hook into the thick fabric. Carefully, you begin to pull them down, careful to not catch his underwear as you do so, desiring to remove each piece of his clothing individually. You'd assumed his jeans must have been a size or two big, with the ease you were able to slide them down, even at his thighs. You finally let go once they reach his knees, dropping them so he can kick the pooled fabric to the side to be discarded along with his belt.

You trail your gaze up his legs, back to your eye line. You swallow, gaze remaining on his lower stomach, on the tuft of hair that sits just above the elastic of his underwear, avoiding your eyes making contact with the growing bulge that begins to strain against the tight fabric.

"Don't get shy on me again." Joost laughs, reaching forward to grab your arm, just below your shoulder, tugging slightly to lift it up. With the new leverage he slides his palm down the length of your arm before grabbing your wrist, moving it to stretch out your hand, "Right there," Joost sighs, placing your open palm to the fabric that clothes his cock, "Like that…" He holds his palm to the back of your hand, guiding you to rub his underwear-clad length.

Your thighs squeeze together, your guilt once again a passing thought as you feel the way Joost throbs under your touch.

"I thought I was taking the lead…" You bite your lip, eyes flicking up to Joost.

"Back-talking me already… " He shakes his head, clicking his tongue, "Well you looked like you needed some encouragement."

You nod, agreeing, it was exactly what you needed. Perhaps even more.

Your fingertips crawl to the elastic band of Joost's underwear, eager to hook into them.

Joost hums, calling your attention back up to him, watching him shake his head,

"Not yet,"

You bite the inside of your cheeks, attempting to hide your disappointment- but you didn't mind prolonging the night, still unsure if he means it when he says this will last beyond tonight.

"Think there's a little more to take off before we get there."

You nod, placing your hands back onto the bed, steadying yourself to help you stand up.

Despite your proximity, you must admit Joost has gotten less intimidating when you've realized the power you have over him too, the bulge poking into your lower stomach a testament to the fact that he needs you too.

Your fingertips find the hem of Joost's tank top, and you're eager to get it off of him, to have your hands splayed against his chest, to really feel him. You pull at the fabric, lifting it above his stomach, and he raises his arms for you, so you can pull it above his head, allowing Joost to do the extra work to pull it all the way up the length of his arms, too far up for you to reach.

He barely has time to toss his shirt with his other discarded clothes before your hands are on him, palm resting against his chest. He's hairier than you anticipated, the small amount of chest hair that poked from his tank top had not signaled to you the extent of it. Strangely enough- it humanized him, that and the small little moles that dotted his skin, taking you out of what you thought you knew about vampires- with their almost inhumanly pale, unblemished flesh, smooth as silk. Perhaps Joost physically had seemed perfect to you, but he still had the body of a man, not of something that wasn't of this mortal plane.

Your hand slides up from his chest, to his neck, fingers brushing over the tattoo that covers it. You think it's of a cartoon character, but you can't quite recognize it, your parents hadn't really allowed you to watch television growing up, firmly believing that they would rot your brain. You feel a twinge in your chest, remembering how it felt being younger, your alienation from other kids your age, unable to wear the clothes they wore, watch the movies they watched, or listen to the music they listened to. You couldn't quite put a name to the feeling back then, but you think you understand it now, as it still lives inside you, your otherness. Maybe that was part of the reason you had become so desperate for Joost tonight- he was an other too.

"Did this hurt?" You ask softly, continuing to trace the outline of Joost's tattoo, "The tattoo?"

"I guess so, yeah" You feel him shrug, "Nothing I couldn't take though."

"I like them," You smile, it's an innocent enough comment given the situation you had found yourself in, "They're one of the first things I noticed about you."

"One of?" Joost asks, almost challengingly, "What else have you noticed, hm?" He snakes an arm around your lower back, pulling you closer to him, bulge poking further into your lower tummy.

Your face grows hot, getting put on the spot like this,

"Your eyes, I guess," You rest your head on Joost's shoulder, "I've always struggled to maintain eye contact with you because of it."

"I get that a lot," He chuckles, "Even before I was turned, but that definitely made me creep people out more."

"Well," You sigh, "I don't think you creep me out anymore."

"No?" Joost raises an eyebrow, but you don't notice from where you lay against him, "Not even if I told you I can still smell the blood on your wrist… and how desperately I'm trying not to sink my teeth into you right now."

"No," You respond simply- but it isn't indifference, it's much sweeter, an affection for him, slowly unfurling inside of you- your long-buried desires now finally allowed to breathe.

Joost is silent for a moment, and you're sure all of your willingness has surprised him tonight, after all it has surely surprised you. His breath falters against your hair.

"You shouldn't say that so easily," He murmurs, but there's no real warning, it's something more weary, something tender, "You don't know what you're offering."

You nod against his collarbone, placing a small kiss to his exposed shoulder, "I would like to, though."

He exhales slowly, like he's trying to let something go, his hand pressing into the small of your back, keeping you to him as if you might change your mind.

"Well then," He starts, his hand trailing up your back, to the thin, flimsy strap of your nightgown, flicking it down your shoulder, and he continues with the other one, "May I?" He asks like he already knows the answers as two fingers slip into the neckline of the garment, ready slide it down.

You hesitate for a moment, before stepping back, nodding, allowing Joost to slip it off of you. Slowly, the silky fabric drips down your body, exposing your skin inch by inch. You gasp slightly as the nightgown falls from your chest, first exposing your breasts. You contemplate quickly grabbing the garment before Joost fully undresses you, pulling it back up, covering yourself and cowering away from Joost- but you stay, exhaling deeply, ready for Joost to see all of you.

Joost guides the nightgown down your hips, before letting it slip down your thighs, and finally pooling at your feet. Carefully, you step out the small pile its made, gently kicking it off to the side.

Joost's hands immediately return to you, palms at your waist before they slide up to your chest. He feels cold as ever, your teeth chattering as he explores parts of you nobody else has ever laid their eyes on. Joost palms your breasts with both hands, squeezing the supple flesh before letting go, his fingers one side slipping down to your nipple, gently pinching its pebbled surface.

It's a strange feeling, like nothing you've ever felt before, you tip your head back slightly, jaw slacking as a small moan escapes your lips at the jolt that runs through you.

You feel Joost's eyes as they stare deep into you, the heat of his gaze offsetting the pure ice of his touch.

Joost pulls back, just enough to look at you, his breath catching in his throat, eyes wide with awe, like he's never seen something so human.

"Oh my God," he murmurs, almost to himself, like the words slipped out before he could stop them.

You blink, a flutter of nerves curling in your chest, a brief pause, a ghost of old instinct still haunting you. You almost flinch at the casual invocation, the wrongness of hearing "God" like that, so bare, so breathless, but it passes quickly, swallowed by the way he's still looking at you.

Joost's hand comes up, thumb brushing over your cheek, eyes wide, like he can't quite believe you're real. His jaw tightens, like he wants to speak, you expect something smooth, something teasing, a gentle mockery of how you've so easily allowed him to get away with saying the Lord's name in vain. But when Joost finally speaks his voice is hoarse, uneven.

"You're… so beautiful" He says, and it sounds almost like it's something that cost him to admit. He sounds like he's unraveling, losing control over each passing second. "I was going to take my time," he shakes his head, "Make you nervous, make you squirm." His hand slips down to the waistband of your underwear, two fingers gently pulling at the elastic, "But I-I don't think I can control myself," He stutters, "I'm starving for you." He says low, ducking his head to rest against your neck.

"Then don't." You sigh, "I think I'm ready now." You nod.

"Please forgive my lack of restraint when this is through."

Joost mumbles, and you don't have a chance to respond before his hands rest against your shoulders, pushing you back onto the bed. His sudden fierceness knocking the breath from your lungs as you attempt to get into a more comfortable position, crawling backwards to fully lay against the mattress, arms splayed out above you, knees raised.

It isn't long before Joost is on top of you, hovering over you, arms steadying himself on either side of you, pure hunger in his eyes, reminding you that you are his next meal. He lowers himself slightly, lips colliding with yours. There's no build up to it, it's pure hot, wet desire. His teeth scrape against yours, making your body shiver, a sign of the recklessness with which he kisses you.

His kisses almost suffocate you, his breath heavy in your face, lips exploring you with a fervor you have yet to experience from him. You arch your back into him, your crotch grazing against him, granting you a feeling that was now growing familiar.

"Shit," He breathes out, pulling away from this kiss, "I can't do any more of this teasing shit, fuck" He pushes himself up from his position above you, and he's standing up again.

You blink a few times as you look up at him, swallowing thickly as you anticipate what's to come. Your body trembles, watching anxiously as he taps your knee,

"Come, on put your legs down," His hand trailing up your thigh, sticking his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, practically ripping at the fabric, "Let me take these off."

You oblige with a simple hum, biting down on your tongue until you nearly taste blood as the fabric slides down your thighs, leaving you entirely bare. You almost instinctively close your legs, your utter nudity leaving you vulnerable, feeling like you needed to shelter yourself. But you don't, you let him take you in as you bend your knees for him, betraying your initial reactions, and putting yourself on display.

Joost lets out a low groan at the sight, a smile of content settling on his face at how ready and willing you are for him. Joost soon pokes his thumbs into the elastic of his underwear, quickly, pulling them down.

You bite the inside of your cheeks as his length springs from the confines of the tight fabric, your body tenses, knowing what's to come next. You watch intently, propping yourself up on your forearms as Joost slides his palm up and down the shaft, his teeth gritting as he prepares himself for you.

Soon, he returns to his position above you, almost lunging at you, like you really are his prey. You fall back, body too shaken to continue to hold yourself up, head hitting the mattress.

"You're really going to have to relax for me this time," Joost's voice is suddenly a lot more serious, a lot more commanding, and you shut your eyes tight, taking a deep breath in, ready to obey. With your eyes shut you get no warning for the unexpected feeling of his tip brushing through your slick folds, the squelching sound of wet skin filling the room. You turn your head to the side, as if to look away, suddenly embarrassed by the realization that sound is you.

"Perfect," Joost mewls, lowering his head once more as he continues to slip between your folds, not yet entering you, "So wet," He muses, "So eager, it will make this easy." On reflex, you push up into him, wanting to feel more than just the tip, grinding against his length, sighing at the way the bumps of the veins of his cock provide the perfect amount of friction.

Joost's lips find your neck once more, kissing you with need, so close to everything he wants.

"Okay," He sighs, "Just focus on this, on me kissing you, okay? Relax." You know he doesn't want to wait anymore, and neither do you, and all you can do is just oblige, and try to forget about everything else in this moment besides the soft, comforting feeling of his lips on your neck. They're plush, more gentle than they should be, each kiss deliberate, calculated. You keep your neck craned to the side opposite him, allowing Joost as much access to your neck as he needs.

Yet you're suddenly ripped from that feeling, an unfamiliar stretch between your legs, one that forces your eyes to screw shut, your hands flying to Joost's shoulders' fingertips ripping into his flesh to ground yourself at the feeling. It stings for a moment, feeling like you're being torn in two, before it suddenly stops, becoming nothing more than a dull throb as you open your eyes, realizing Joost had bottomed out into you.

He doesn't pull back quite yet, instead raising his head to get a good look at the expression on your face. It's a lazy smile, head dizzy from the new sensation, you've never felt so full, it's a satisfaction unknown to you. He seems proud, or maybe he's just altogether too excited to finally have plunged into you. It doesn't matter, the satisfaction you both feel clearly fills the room, shifting the mood, your senses suddenly heightened.

Joost begins to pull out, your eyes rolling back into your head, back arching as a long, high pitched whine leaves your mouth. Your hands trail down his back, fingernails not leaving his skin, surely leaving deep scratch marks in Joost's back.

He thrusts forward again, and your breath is taken from you once more, and you struggle to regain it as he finds his pace, surprisingly slow at first, allowing you to get used to his length.

"You're so warm," He sighs, pushing himself back into you, at a pace that is almost agonizingly slow. You get the feeling that Joost misses the warmth of being human, that this is exactly what he needed. His desire for your vitality was far beyond just his lust for blood, it was a longing for life.

"You are too," You say back simply, not meaning it in the sense of temperature, but in how he makes you feel.

"You shouldn't say things like that," He groans, eyes closing tight for a moment as he speeds up his pace, his voice hiccuping, "Make me feel like there's something human left in me."

"Maybe there is." You gasp. Even as a mortal, even you have never felt so alive, you've never been so aware of the blood in your veins, the sensation that sparks each nerve with Joost's thrusts.

"I told you I could still feel," He chokes out a laugh, voice raw.

You believe him now more than ever, especially at the, drawn out groans and grunts he lets out, head hanging once more as he's finally given into your softness.

"What do you feel?" He asks, "Do I make you feel closer to death as you make me feel closer to life?"

"No, no!" You suddenly squeal as Joost slams into you, struggling to maintain a train of thought, much less a coherent response to his question, "No… s'full… so alive," It isn't the full breadth of your thoughts, but it's close enough, unable to squeak out a full sentence under the pure pleasure that overtakes your senses.

You should feel guilty, push Joost off of you and run to confession, beg for repentance- wondering how you could ever even serve any penance for this. This was pure selfish, indulgent sin- your first taste of hedonism.

"Good," Joost says, sensing your new found lust for life had been forged from relinquishing your old ways, "You needed this didn't you, to be broken open? God, I'm so glad it was me."

"Me too," You agree, holding Joost tighter, fingernails settling into his back once more at the intensity of every sensation. Joost isn't holding back now, not with the way he rocks into you, not at a back breaking pace, but fast, and deep enough for you to know this is exactly how he wants it.

You're restraining the noises that almost force themselves out of you, what would be cries nothing more than mere high pitched whines. It's all too intense, everything, all the emotions, and the way Joost buries himself so deep within you awakens something you can't even fully understand, you're not in control of yourself anymore. Your body is shaking, squirming beneath him, you can't help yourself, your pleasure possessing you, a demon you never want to be exorcised out.

"It's okay," Joost says, sensing your restraint, "Let it all out, be as loud as you want angel."

Angel, an ironic nickname, as you felt far from it. Yet compared to Joost, he must have seen you like a saint, his own slice of heaven. Like he wasn't why you had so suddenly fallen from your path of righteousness, taking your innocence, your restraint. But worse, you had given it to him so willingly, despite the guilt clawing at the back of your mind, you could never leave, not when every part of your body screamed that this was where you were supposed to be.

The realization only adds to the overwhelming sensation, and with his beckoning you finally let everything out, a loud sob ripping through your throat as Joost continues to fuck into you, tears spilling down your cheeks. Once the tears start they don't stop, and you can't wipe them away, hot and relentless. Your throat tightens painfully, strangling every breath into a ragged gasp.

Your stomach tightens with each wave, drawing your knees further inward, your whole frame curling as if to protect yourself from the rawness of it all, but you can only move your legs so far with Joost between them.

The sound is strange, foreign to your ears, the mix of your sobs with moans of pure pleasure. It's intense, nothing like the shallow gasping and whimpering you had usually heard coming from Joost's room at night. You wondered if you had just been far more sensitive than them, or if he had just been fucking you so much better than he had ever bothered for anyone else. You hope it's the latter, you don't want him to see you as weak, as just an innocent thing to ruin without another care in the world, before he returns back to old habits. No, you want to be the best thing Joost has ever had, you want him to come back for more, to be the only one, forever.

Joost begins to kiss your neck again, movements becoming slopping, losing any pace, this groans vibrating against your skin.

"I need this," He mumbles to your flesh, before returning to your neck, his kisses becoming furious, lips sucking at your veins, pulling the skin. Your breath fails to find you, short, relentless stutters falling from your lips as your body begins to tense, shaking harder than before.

You feel like you're about to burst, far too full and overwhelmed. You screw your eyes tight, expecting to pop at any moment, the tension building inside of you, your voice becoming louder and louder, despite Joost's coldness you're hot, the simmering pressure inside you about to roll over into a boil.

The feeling is cut for a moment, but by relief, but with a sharp pang, a prick. Your head falls to the side as the ache in your neck spreads, slow and warm. Joost had finally done it, he'd bitten you.

You can't keep your legs up much longer as they begin to thrash beneath you, your entire body trembling at the feeling of all the ways Joost has buried himself deep inside you.

It wasn't just a bite- you'd been claimed, the final declaration of your ruin as his hands, his mouth tethered to your skin. Your blood burns in contrast to the coldness of everything else, your neck just as warm and wet now as your cunt, which Joost still mercilessly pounds himself into.

Every nerve in your body had been woken up, the bite wasn't just in your neck, it pulsed. Your breath caught, fingernails breaking the skin of Joost's back, the very pulse Joost feeds from pounds in your ears.

You feel yourself growing weak, limbs tingling from the loss of blood, tension leaving your body along with your strength. You lay there, like a rag doll, vision becoming spotty, without a thought in your head. You were losing blood faster than your heart could pump it out, your eyes beginning to roll back in your head, body on the brink of unconsciousness.

Surely Joost was able to feel it, the way you suddenly fell limp beneath him, your sobs and moans ceasing as you lost the strength to even make as little as a squeak.

Joost pulls himself from your neck, steadying himself on one forearm above you. You can make out some of him, as you begin to nod off, eyes fluttering, vision half blacked out and blurry. You notice the crimson that stains his lips, only able to make it out in the stark contrast it has against his pale skin.

Joost's palm hits the side of your cheek, it's not a slap, nowhere near hard enough to sting, but enough to call you too him, he repeats the gesture a few more times,

"Come on," He urges, "Come back to me, baby, you're almost there."

His voice is enough to help you retain some consciousness, it's something to hold on to.

Until eventually another sensation hits you, almost out of nowhere, your adrenaline kicking in, a near scream suddenly leaving your lips as your legs begin to quiver uncontrollably.

"That's right," Joost smirks, "There you are, oh" He coos, "You're there."

It's almost as intense as Joost's bite, the feeling that rips through you, your pussy fluttering, clenching around Joost. You shut your eyes tight as the hot wave of pleasure washes over you, your consciousness brought back to you.

You thrash against Joost, grinding onto his cock, like you somehow want him even deeper as you ride out the final seconds of your orgasm, not wanting the pleasure to cease.

And it doesn't not quite… but it becomes something so much more intense as Joost returns to your neck, lapping at the blood that still spills from the wound he's created. Your thighs ache, your quivering pussy so much more sensitive as you come down from your high. It's far too much, as the tears continue to spill from your eyes, and you want to shove Joost off of you, unable to take it.

But you can't, you don't- you don't really want to.

"Just a little longer," He assures, his breathless voice almost inaudible against the backdrop of your ceaseless whines.

HIs tongue drags up against your neck, savoring every drop he takes from you, the feeling makes you shutter.

A string of expletives fall from Joost's mouth, he's louder now, the loudest he's been all night, and you whine once more as he pulls out of you, the sudden emptiness feeling strange.

"Fuck," He mumbles once more before you feel the warmth of his release on your inner thigh, having been mere seconds away from cumming inside of you. It some how feels filthier like this, feeling the warmth drip down your thigh, so close to your spent cunt.

Joost collapses next to you with a heavy breath, and you immediately cling to him, everything finally hitting you at once. You wrap your legs around Joost, arms held around him even tighter as you begin to sob into his chest.

Your breath comes out shallow, stuttering. The pain in your neck twinges with each heartbeat, the echo of his teeth still there, sharp, yet impossibly gentle, like the act was sacred.

But there was nothing holy about what you had done.

"It's okay, angel," He attempts to comfort, hand splayed on your back, rubbing soft circles into your skin.

And there it was, angel, so innocent, as if your blood didn't stain his lips.

Your chest heaves with another sob, something ugly that tears through you. You press your forehead to Joost's chest, afraid of what you'll see there.

"What have I done," You breathe out.

Your mind reels, knowing how far gone you were now. This wasn't supposed to happen, not like this. The fragile pieces of who you thought you were shattering in every direction.

"Nothing you didn't want." Joost responds, so casually, so assured.