Archive of Our Own ^beta

Wanderer wasn't sure how long has it been since the last time he walked into Cunning's place, let alone the assassin's bedroom, but everything still felt just as familiar as ever.

From the hand so possessively pulling him close by a collar to lay on Cunning's bed — one to which Wanderer didn't agree to have around his neck, but Cunning gave him no attention regarding the complaining — to the bites through Wanderer's neck and collarbone level making him wonder if Cunning was the true vampire between them. Everything was part of a drill Wanderer was used to follow and dance along before being taken as a "guest" at Crimson Sword's place for days. Getting in Cunning's touch was alluring in contrast.

Cunning was addicting.

Cunning, on the hand, was having a whole banquet by claiming the vampire as his again, because that was what he was and that was what he was supposed to be taken as instead of some vampiric aristocrat's slave or whatever that Cunning couldn't care less. His mouth was busy leaving his scent around Wanderer, his marks, anything that could remember the vampire about who he belonged to. He decided to take care of the revenge boiling in his heart after making sure to claim the vampire as his first, and he would do it very well.

"Take this shit off," Wanderer complained (again) about the collar, but the man on his lap didn't stop his delicious task of exploring Wanderer's shoulders with his teeth while forcefully shoving the vampire's shirt off him.

It was only when Wanderer pinched the side of Cunning's torso that the man finally stopped, at the price of a familiar silver knife being pointed at Wanderer's chin, just as dangerous as the knife owner's grin. Cunning's mask was gone from the moment they entered his home, and Wanderer loved the wildness and need in the way Cunning immediately attacked him when the door closed.

"Told you to behave, handsome. I'm not nearly done yet with devouring you." Cunning bounced against Wanderer's crotch once, teasingly in act and firm in the hand holding that knife, good enough to make Wanderer's body shudder for a moment. "Lots of things to do, and I can't go through the possibility of someone trying to yank you out of my grasp again." He showed the collar's end tangled around his free hand.

Possessive bitch. Wanderer looked at Cunning's hand. "Just so you can have the pleasure to kill me instead?" To Cunning's surprise, a hand grabbed the wrist holding onto the knife, an unexpected act from a vampire who usually obeyed so prettily under Cunning's lead. That made Cunning's grin grow watching Wanderer holding on to the wrist, but not pulling it away.

Instead, he kept eye contact with the assassin, defiant in gaze to play the man's little game. "Is that what you want? To get the experience of riding a dead vampire's cock? Fits you just fine."

"Someone got a death wish?" Cunning chuckled, he was shivering in excitement with the vampire's words, even the idea of riding his dead body aroused him good enough to feel his guts twisting in need. 

Wanderer lifted his head further, neck fully exposed to Cunning's sight. His eyes were silently telling the assassin to go on, a challenge to which Wanderer was almost spitting in the man's face with his eyes alone.

That was how their relationship always worked anyway. Between kisses and embraces, there were bites and threats. Not that they didn't like it like that anyway. They need the adrenaline and constant experience of near death around each other to make it feel ethereal.

Cunning was almost panting as he held himself back to not give in to his desire to crave the knife right there and done, or maybe an iron dagger instead, something that would keep Wanderer in place and pain but not kill him just yet. He would feed him his blood afterward and keep the man "alive" just to do it again until he would get tired and drained off from getting fucked by the vampire's cock.

But Cunning didn't do that. Not immediately. He had something in mind, and, against his true will to follow Wanderer's equally sick wish, Cunning only moaned and grinded his hips against Wanderer.

"Did you know I've been studying your species?" Fuck how good the volume on the vampire's pants felt against Cunning's still-clothed ass, he used all his willpower to keep the knife in place and keep talking. "You know, that thing we have about me giving you allowance to enter my place, or how you can see yourself through some mirrors 'cause of the lack of silver in their compositions," Cunning bounced harder, Wanderer held on tighter to his wrist. "And I even learned a couple of new interesting things."

Wanderer was struggling to concentrate on whatever serious babbling Cunning was doing while him teasing like that. Can't he just let me put in—

"So I learned about vampires' bondings."

To that, Wanderer sucked a harsh breath to try and focus a little more. "Fuck," he cursed, both thankful and annoyed when Cunning stopped moving his hips, but in need to focus on whatever that was for. He gave in, letting go of Cunning's hand to cover his face and breath. "The fuck do you want today?"

"Simple."

Cunning leaned down on Wanderer's space and kissed him, resting his hand and knife to the side as he deepened the kiss, bit and lavished him. Wanderer returned the kiss with equal fervor, until his noises were muffled when Cunning decided to really take a bite and drain blood from Wanderer's lips. Both breathless, Cunning only got away when there was enough blood to stain his lips and drool down Wanderer's chin.

He grinned just like a fox who managed to corner the perfect prey.

"You're my belonging, Wanderer, so don't plan on getting kidnapped a second time without consequences." Cunning's grin was as wide as ever, but Wanderer couldn't help but notice the change in his tone to something so serious and uncharacteristic. "So you better hear me good and clear, yes?" Cunning licked the corner of his lips. "I made you a question. You're listening, Wandy?" Cunning asked sweetly, but there was a hint of threat in his words.

Wanderer felt like he was chewing on more than he could take. 

And yet, he didn't step back when he narrowed his red eyes up and nodded. The adrenaline was still present, his dick was hard, he gave in to the assassin. Cunning was satisfied with that.

"So, you like my blood, don't you, baby?" Cunning took off the pieces of clothes from his torso, eyes always so dearly focused on the trapped prey under his body. "And you love it when you suck me dry, hm?" Cunning carelessly tossed his clothes away, remaining his pants to which he left to the side just to unbuckle Wanderer's first.

Wanderer had intentions to raise his body, but before he could do it, Cunning already craved an iron dagger on his thigh. He yelled in pain at the sudden act, clenched fists holding the mattress as his blood, both cold and warm, stained his pants, dagger and a tad of Cunning's hand keeping the weapon in place at the open flesh of muscles penetrated in metal.

His skin stretched so well at Cunning's ministration, the squirming leg and Wanderer's twisted face made Cunning's arousal be set aflame as his hand was wetted in red and his eyes were shining in need.

"Stay still, gotcha?" Cunning pressed the dagger further to prove his words, and Wanderer yelled again as he threw back his head. "Let me finish here, so I can give you a treat."

"You are a freak," Wanderer hissed, but it was followed by a wide grin of his own to which Cunning chuckled. There was something equally twisted in the vampire, making him enjoy it too. That was not silver, it didn't burn just as deadly as Cunning's other dagger would have made him feel, but it still hurts like hell. The cells and globes in his body were already in movement to keep the pain at bay, but that couldn't be closed and healed while Cunning decided to take the wound as the perfect spot to place his iron Excalibur. 

"And you are my little bloodsucker aberration, handsome. Now where I was…" Cunning tipped his chin, falsely pondering to remember his point, as he forcefully took off the dagger in one go, unbothered by the blood splattering out of it and staining his mattress or how Wanderer choked with the aching skin. Then, he exclaimed a little "Ah!" in realization. "Right! Well, there's a nice little thing you never told me about how blood can be used to bond with one another. Quite rude to hide it away from me."

Wanderer's leg was still shivering, but the wound's skin was soon moving close back into a normal appearance. What really caught him off guard were Cunning's words leading to something he was not willing to talk about for so long.

"Will you at least tell me who the hell talked this type of thing to you?"

Cunning played with the tip of his now bloody dagger against his digit. "A witch. A pretty lady in purple who got me some nice information in exchange for a job, but it doesn't matter." He shook his head. "Did you drink anyone else's blood lately?"

The answer was obvious, and yet he hesitated in saying so. His eyes were narrowed, but they soon dodged Cunning's gaze. "No," he answered briefly.

"Good!" Cunning said enthusiastically. 

Then, finally the assassin was back on other matters, or that was what Wanderer believed when he watched Cunning quickly take off the remaining of his clothes. When he was done kicking the last inch of his underwear, he got back into his sweet position on Wanderer's lap and roughly sat down on his member contained by his underwear. Cunning moaned in excitement for the information and the delightful realization that Wanderer was still just as hard (and big) as he needed.

"Fuck me." Cunning stated, he left two daggers resting on the bed (silver and iron, Wanderer could recognize) always at the grasp of his fingers, as he readjusted his position. Knees bent up, lifting his hips mere centimeters away from the vampire's cock he forced off the underwear for freedom. "I need you to fuck me so good. Can you do it, Wandy? Can you fuck me even if I stab you again? Can you prove your loyalty to me?"

Loyalty. Wanderer knew very well what Cunning implied with that — the creation of bonding, a silent oath with their blood — but fuck, Wanderer couldn't even answer properly before Cunning was already downing himself on his member, his tight hole forcing its way down to be stretched open and filled with all Wanderer had to offer. Wanderer's leg had nothing but the ghostly sensation of pain, that was nothing in comparison to the whole blaze burning down his crotch and making him feel almost alive with the heat to fill Cunning so badly.

"Ah! Wandy, fuck, you still feel as good as ever." Cunning rolled back his hips on Wanderer's member, making both of them gasp in need and lust before he actually started moving up and down, up and down, watching Wanderer's expression twist with a jaw hanging open with growing arousal. "You want my blood — ah! — so come and take it already!" Cunning was not taking full control of his voice's volume anymore, and he couldn't care less about that, not while he was so full of all the pleasure and pain driving him further into insanity.

Oh how much Wanderer wanted to just get up and forcefully drink directly out of Cunning's neck while the man was acting especially wild that night, but something at the back of his mind made him hesitate. A bloody bond? It's true, he hasn't drank from anyone else's blood in a while, and they could seal something to which Wanderer would only drink from Cunning: not only by his natural will, but also by the oath's demand to keep them stronger. 

"Can't you fucking ride me in silen— ARGH!"

Wanderer yelled again, louder than before in sight of the newly done wound, bigger than the last. He was panting heavily, giving an annoyed look down at the pulsing flesh Cunning decided to open on his body by forcing his silver dagger on the side of his stomach — every new bouncing movement from Cunning, who decided to not take a break from his ride no matter how bloody their party became, made it feel like the skin was stretching further open, and it sure would be with the strength Cunning put on the hand forcing the dagger inside and slicing his muscles perfectly. Cunning was in ecstasy, holding back the need to come just to prolong their carnal party, Wanderer spasmed under his body in distress.

"Wanderer, you look so pretty like this!" Cunning exclaimed with a maniac tone. He was just as much aware as Wanderer that dagger couldn't instantly kill the vampire, unless he kept slicing him just a little further.

And, of course, unless Wanderer decided to not come in and drink from his blood to help his fast regeneration.

Flesh crimson drooled down Wanderer's skin, fire burned on his harmed flesh unable to heal itself back. It burned like hell, it felt like life was given back to the vampire just to be ripped off in a million pieces with all the pain and dizziness he was going through. He screamed in pain, his body screamed in pleasure too, the growing orgasm was both a distraction and an amplifier for the new main subject.

Wanderer, sweating coldly and weak to anything but to serve as a meat dildo, looked up at Cunning with a twisted grimace. "You'll look better when I start fucking against the wall."

And Cunning smiled so, so pleasantly, the corners of his lips turned into a perfect curve. "Is it a promise?" He chuckled, hand resting on Wanderer's chest.

"I want you," Cunning spoke, but his voice betrayed him with how breathy in ecstasy he was feeling. "And I know you want me too. You are addicted to my blood, ah, you really are!" His legs were trembling, but he wanted to ignore the tiredness and keep his ride as if his life depended on it — as if it was him the one in pain, and not his sweet stabbed vampire. "Let me give you a last little help, Wandy…" he purred the nickname.

Wanderer instantly covered his mouth when the dagger was, once again, forcefully taken off his flesh. His body shivered and squirmed, the burning sensation didn't cease as quickly as the one previously experienced on his leg, as it was the side effects of silver eating him whole from inside out. His focus was on nothing, his focus was on everything, his focus was on Cunning—

The vampire's focus was completely on Cunning when he noticed the other man taking his hand up to touch the stained dagger close to the side of his throat. Cunning's eyes shone with a Cheshire-akin grin when he noticed Wanderer's entirely on him.

"Just giving you…" Cunning's breath hitched when he came to a stop on Wanderer's lap, ignoring how he was edging himself by not reaching his climax yet while caressing the dagger at his skin, never letting it go further enough to hit a nerve or even draw blood. Not yet, that is. "Ah, Wandy! I just need you to come drink, heal yourself and claim me as yours too. You could just do it, or we can have the best climax of our lives and let death take us both together." 

Maybe Wanderer's curse towards Cunning wasn't wrong: that man was definitely a freak, but he was not different after all.

Not with the way his dick twitched inside Cunning in pure arousal hearing these words, regardless of the strong pain in his lower belly.

Then, Wanderer took his final choice, quicker than Cunning could do something stupid.

Cunning didn't have time to go on with his lovely idea of slicing himself open to serve his neck on a golden plate as the main meal — no, there was no need, as Wanderer finally moved by pulling Cunning down with a hand grabbing his neck, may it be thanks to his instincts to survive or pure pleasure, Cunning didn't know and he didn't care as the vampire bit him good and hard enough to make Cunning's entire body shiver and sigh in pain.

A hand palming over Cunning's lower back forced him to stay still on Wanderer's cock (although it was needless, he didn't have a single plan of leaving that spot). "W-andy, aah…! Your teeth… s-so good…!" Cunning bit down his lip, his blood flowing freely to Wanderer's tongue. It was Wanderer who started to move his hips against Cunning's slick hole.

That was a bloody party, from the splattered blood between their bodies to the droplets drooling down Wanderer's mouth and down Cunning's neck. Cunning felt himself weak, pressure lowering at each new sip the vampire made sure to satiate from him, but he did not mind. All of him was for Wanderer, just the same way all of Wanderer was for him.

Cunning wanted to move his hips, to reach his peak at that perfect timing while his conscience still didn't fade away, but he was far too weak for anything. Wanderer, however, seemed to read his mind when he switched their positions and pinned Cunning against the bed.

"Ah!" Then, a thrust, and Cunning dryly screamed with the whole new, delicious angle Wanderer could reach. "Please, ah!" Cunning held a fistful of Wanderer's hair, not letting him get away from his neck until every reddish droplet was taken and licked clean. "Please, tell me you are mine too, tell me you'll only want me!" Cunning was loud as his eyelashes flushed close.

"Cunning…" Wanderer sharply inhaled, his energy back to regenerate the ugly wound on his torso and set at the movement of his hips against Cunning in pure lust.

"No!" Cunning suddenly exclaimed, pulling Wanderer's face away just to stare with half-lifted eyes. He would need to be careful to not let himself pass away before achieving what he desired the most. "Mike," he panted, breathlessly giving Wanderer a tender smile as he felt his lower body trembling with every new thrust. "Say it," Cunning demanded, ordered his vampire to do so.

Wanderer needed a moment to realize the implication of Cunning's words, eyes gazing over his tired eyes and shy smile. Shy wasn't a word Wanderer would think to fit Cunning at all, but right there — in pain, pleasure and dizziness, all at once— that was exactly what Cunning seemed, so weak to what was now Wanderer's ministration for once. His collar was long forgotten by Cunning, and Wanderer didn't take much effort to break its locker with a single finger before throwing it over his shoulder.

A hand held up Cunning's thigh, and Wanderer never dodged his eyes from Cunning as he went back into slamming in the smaller man's body at a rough pace. "Mike." He let the name roll out of his tongue, and Cunning moaned loudly with the fulfilling sensations and Wanderer's hand caressing his throat lightly. From his abused hole to the piercing pain on his neck, Cunning was very much satisfied with the attention.

"Yes!" Cunning yelled, almost laughing when Wanderer took it as his personal task to break Cunning in half with every new hardened thrust, more than well incentivized by the leg wrapping around his waist. "Fuck, fuck, g-go harder, Wandyyyy…!"

And so he did, obeying to the request by setting an almost furious pace.

When he leaned in Cunning's personal space to niffle at the shell of his ear, Cunning held him tightly with both arms wrapped weakly around his neck. "Mike," Wanderer repeated, breathless, before pampering his reddish skin with kisses and weaker bites. His tongue caressed over the hickey he previously caused there and Cunning shuddered until everything became too much for his system and he moaned loud enough to fill the room as he ejaculated between their locked bodies. Blood and cum mixed and dirtied their stomachs, stars dance in Cunning's vision, his member spasmed as the movement of their bodies milked himself dry.

Wanderer didn't give him a break besides noticing the way Cunning's body tensed underneath him. That was only fair to keep slamming into him so mercilessly after everything Cunning did, and all Wanderer wanted was to rip off all of the screams and cries Mike had to offer him.

Cunning was his, just as much as Wanderer was his belonging too.

Blood managed to give Wanderer energy, but he was already far too gone into lust and edged enough to not last far too long after Cunning's come. He shoves himself a last time in Cunning, letting all his pent-up release hot inside his man with a head groan. Cunning let out a choked cry, back arching forward to never let go of Wanderer's heat dripping down his thighs and mattress.

They fell in silence with nothing but their erratic panting and Cunning's loud heartbeat to fill the room.

Slowly getting off his high, Wanderer's body relaxed. He rested his face against Cunning's (Mike's) neck and sniffed on the sweet scent of his fresh wound.

"You are mine," Cunning simply stated with a weak voice and smile. He could feel Wanderer returning that grin against the skin of his neck.

"So are you." The leg over Wanderer's waist loosened, slipping down to rest on the bed. Wanderer took the opportunity to move his hips away from Cunning, who whined in displeasure. His cum leaked immediately without something to hold the hot fluid inside. That was a promise of aching back for a couple of days. Not that Cunning minded.

"Don't wanna mooove…" Cunning muttered, but he didn't have enough energy to do more than keep his arms around Wanderer. He was satisfied enough staying still like that in a pool of dizziness and sleepiness soon to hit him better than to move away.

Feeding sessions always recovered enough energy from the vampire to keep him wide awake, but for once (thanks to a certain silver dagger, to which the effects of a pulsing flesh were still present in his stomach) he felt his body give in and rest over Cunning's. 

Someday he would warn Cunning about how a blood oath takes more to be finished.