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The last warm bodies left were left inside. The windows of the place were boarded from the inside, light barely leaking out in slivers like pale veins, revealing twitching shadows within.
Standing outside that damn place, blood was dry and cracked across your chin and lips. You’d wiped at it with the sleeve of your already ruined shirt, a futile gesture. All it did was smear it, dark streaks across the fabric, mixing with the flecks of grime from the earlier slaughter.
A grim sigh passed your lips, low and sharp while remaining on the dry patch of ground, knees drawn up, arms slung loose to either side. From here, you had a perfect view of the juke joint and the flicker of movement behind its windows. A wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the copper stink of blood and sweat.
He came back, horde close behind him, some still wore tattered pieces of what they’d died in, others had already shed their humanity like old skin. Their eyes glowed, glassy and wet, teeth too big for their mouths.
Stark and Mary pressed together, lovingly. All over each other, always, even in death.
Remmick walked straight to you and sat too close, pressed tight, thigh brushing against yours. You didn’t flinch, never did. You’d been his too long for that. A strong and firm arm, calloused fingers digging in just a little too tight, wrapped around your waist, yanking you flush to his side.
His head dipped immediately to the crook of your neck, making you feel him breathe in deep, purring against your skin.
The dried blood on his face smeared against you, fangs nudging your pulse point, sharp and casual while pulling you tighter.
Impatience radiated from his body. The signs were so subtle, but you’d learned them across a century. The slight twitch in the thumb that circled your side, how his nose flared and that low hum rumbling in his chest like a growl.
Your left hand came up without thought, cradling his cheek and smearing it in blood, thumb brushing just under his eye. He made a low noise coming from his chest and muffled by your neck.
His fangs dragged across your skin before he bit. The pain came sharp and just as fast it was chased immediately by the warmth of blood escaping and his tongue catching it, licking and sucking, followed by a long, lazy lap when it tried to drip.
“Hnghh—Rem...Remmick,” you hissed, words breaking as your head tilted automatically, baring more of your throat.
You tried to speak through it, but his mouth was moving now, down to the edge of your collar, nosing at it like a beast who’d found his favorite chew toy, teeth sinking through the fabric, into the meat of your shoulder.
“Ahh—f...fuck—” Your spine curved, a strangled moan escaping.
He didn’t let go, even as your hands scrabbled at his shirt and forced your voice through the haze.
“They got...nnhh—they got nothin’ in there,” you managed, voice rasping, hips shifting in time with him, drawn by the rhythm of his feed. “They’re gonna rot in that place with no food or water. They’ll lose their fuckin’ minds.”
His tongue traced the tear in your shirt, then your skin, each lick wet and deliberate that earned him another soft gasp.
“They’re weak,” you growled through your teeth, tilting your head to whisper closer to his ear. “They got days. We got eternity. They’re just meat in there. Let ’em rot in their own fear. We ain’t gotta do nothin’. Just wai—”
A bite into your collarbone, sharper and claiming.
“We got eternity,” a couple voices came behind you from the horde of freshly turned vampires, repeating like a hive. The words didn’t come in unison, more staggered.
You hadn’t even meant to do that, it still slipped sometimes when your tone hit right or the hunger pushed too far.
Only time would help you learn it completely, or maybe support from your demonic companion at your side might’ve helped too, if he’d ever let you finish a question.
But every time you tried to ask how you could do it better, he’d grin, lean in, whisper something filthy in that thick accent of his and suddenly you’d feel that heat press into your skull. Within seconds you’d be bent under the weight of him, the control bleeding from his voice and lessons always ended with hours of him inside you, mouth on your throat, whispering how good you followed or how well you obeyed while making you feel what you couldn’t yet command.
The moment broke like skin under teeth when he pulled back and began to kiss, fast and hungry, along your neck, jaw and cheek.
Quick pecks warm and wet, each one smearing more of your blood across his lips and back onto your face.
Your lips found each other, mouths bloodied and open. You bit down into the kiss and he bit back, both of you growling into each other. Your tongues tangled, slick and impatient, his fangs raking the roof of your mouth and your own cutting his lower lip. The copper tang filled your senses as he moaned into your mouth, a guttural and possessive sound. Blood dribbled from the corners of your mouths, mixing with saliva in sticky trails.
Remmick groaned, chest rumbling against yours low and pleased, letting you dominate the kiss for half a second before he took it back, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth until the skin broke, then licking the wound with long, slow strokes of his tongue.
Your fangs clicked hard against his each time a kiss turned more to teeth than lips. You could feel the small cuts inside your mouth healing just as fast as they were opened.
A noise began around you, a humming barely audible for your ears from the ones who still circled like wolves denied the feast.
Then a couple of them began clapping in synchrony, a broken banjo string was plucked and the tempo began to build.
A voice began to hum loud, then another took a higher harmony and the shape of the tune took form.
Guttural, driven by need, but coordinated, the melody bent, broken by laughter and madness.
He was still devouring you while, all around, the music built.
Your hips rocked once into his instinctively, your bloodied mouths barely pulling apart for a moment, strands of red and spit still connecting your lips as your eyes flicked toward the sound.
He was doing it, you were sure of it deep in your bones.
Your mouth hung open, the blood cooling in streaks over your cheek and throat. “Wh-what’re you doing?” you asked, voice raspy and hoarse, spit and blood glistening on your mouth and dripping down your chin with wide and feral eyes drunk in adoration and awe.
He grinned back at ye, long and perfect fangs stained dark red, wet still with your blood. His lips too red now, eyes glowing gold and narrowed with pleasure, pupils slanted with the thrill of the feed.
His jaw flexed, tongue peeking out to taste what little blood still clung to the edge of his mouth as he rose and stared ahead at the juke joint.
The song behind you swelled with the whole crowd that began playing and laughing through the melody.
It started with his low hum, vibrating from somewhere deeper than his throat.
Remmick’s boots scuffed once through the loam.
Then again.
The third was heel-first into the ground.
“The ground was cold, me limbs were numb, the light had just begun.”
Air got caught in your throat—not for breath, you hadn’t needed it since the nineteenth century—from recognition. The line sliced down your spine and back up your jaw, because even before the second verse began, you knew.
“Ye stood there quiet, didn’t run, just watched what I’d become”
His voice was rich, dragging each vowel through his fangs like it was a sweet, hard candy he didn’t want to finish too quickly.
He took a step low to the ground, bent in the knees, his spine fluid. The dirt rose with each strike of his boots, each click and hop snapping through the rhythm like a sermon slamming against the bones of the earth. A triplet-heavy pace slammed into the space between each syllable of his song.
“With one-two-three, ye let me in and never asked me name—”
His foot flicked forward in a blur of motion, heel snapping into a precise sideways scuff across the dust, then planted heel–toe–heel, twist, pivot, hop.
“Whack-fol-lol, I’ve kept that look an’ never been the same.”
He spun once, heel of his boots digging deep into the earth and then he turned to you.
That smile of his was feral and violent, blood dripped from his chin, thick and fresh, trailing down the hollow of his throat. Eyes burning gold, a wild glow, curls stuck wetly to his forehead, smeared with droplets of blood.
He extended a hand, fingers long and streaked with dried blood under the nails, reached toward you with reverence and claim.
You placed your hand in his and he pulled. There was no resistance from your body or struggle from his strength. Your chests collided, the wet stick of blood and sweat grinding together like glue. His arm was immediately back around your waist, the other free hand tightening around yours like you were the only thing he’d been holding onto for the last hundred years.
The melody around you two surged in a racing, fiddle-lashed rhythm that stormed ahead of sanity.
The vampires around you spun, hopped and clicked heels into rhythm, flailing with eerie grace while echoing in perfect jagged cadence together.
“Whack-fol-lol, I’ve kept that look an’ never been the same—!”
You stared at Remmick and he looked only at you, hand tightening around yours as he leaned close again, lips grazing the shell of your ear.
The blood-drunk music didn’t stop, if anything, it surged and climbed like something alive. Their still slick hands came together in pounding claps. The swarm formed around you and Remmick, tightening into a large ring of bodies swaying and leaping like puppets pulled by the same invisible thread.
Remmick’s hand gripped yours and with a sudden twist of his wrist, he spun you out and in again. The world blurred for half a second and when it stopped, you were chest to chest. His hand came to rest on your back, just above your hip, warm from stolen life and trembling with restraint.
You locked eyes with his glowing ones, wicked with lust and blooming hunger.
Step-step-turn, pivot. His legs shifted before yours could think. He led and your body followed instinctively, like the thousands of times you had done this dance. Not always like this, though, but in hidden places after quiet kills.
Remmick stepped forward with that heel–toe–hop, boot scraping a click from the stone underfoot and your body followed him perfectly, mirrored but loose, entranced. Your weight shifted with his, limbs falling into that ancient cadence with obedience and memories of his to guide you.
“Ye bared yer throat without a flinch, stood firm and didn’t flee—!”
You spun again, under his outstretched arm, half-circle, palm grazing his ribs as you pivoted. The world spun, the moonlight exposing the blood still clinging to your lips as you fell back into him, chest pressed against the slope of his throat. His palm came to rest tight on your waist, fingers splayed, pinky curling in like he was reminding who you belonged to.
His breath poured hot against your neck, ragged now, the way it always got when he was overwhelmed. You stepped again, side, tap, heel, leaning into each other.
“An’ I knew then I’d rather burn than let ye walk from me.”
His lips brushed your ear, the vibrations of his humming rattled down your neck, into your jaw and through your collarbone, teeth grazing your throat again.
He dipped you quick and gracefully, but then pulled you up with such force you gasped, chest slammed against his again as your head lolled back.
“With one-two-three, I bit too deep, an’ licked till ye near swayed—”
He bit your shoulder to bloom hot blood down your shirt collar, his tongue caught every drop before it could fall.
The horde circled tighter now. Every single voice in the crowd joined his last lines as they shouted and completed what Remmick couldn’t say.
“Whack-fol-lol, I’ll break the world, if ever ye betray!”
His voice turned to a growl when those last words were said, the edge of a promise and a threat rolled together in a snarl.
The circle of monsters swayed and spun, clapping in unison, echoing in fractured cadence those last lines.
The beat never faltered like the music around, his hips rocked into yours with every downbeat. Heel, toe, toe—heel, toe, toe.
“I kissed yer lips, I tore yer skin, I held ye while ye died.”
A growl of breath that followed, a rumble in the back of his throat like he could still taste your final mortal breath in his mouth.
His hand slid behind your waist again, gripping tighter just as his mouth found your jaw, lips pressing there with shaky, almost desperate devotion.
“An’ still I kissed ye long enough to pull ye t’my side.”
He sang into your neck before he bit down.
Your mouth parted in a hiss so sharp it might as well have been a cry, though no pain followed it, only ecstasy. The beat cracked open with the skin of your throat and his fangs slid in. The blood welled hot and thick and his groan was immediate.
Your feet moved on instinct, slower but still following something intimate, hips grinding faintly with his as the blood fed him. His tongue lapped over the wound, drawing every drop while the music surged from voices tangled together
You gasped against his neck, voice gone ragged, hands clawing at the back of his shirt as he lifted his head again, lips smeared with your blood and eyes glazed with hunger, high on the taste of you, on the feel of your weight against him.
The horde did what he couldn’t do now, fangs clashing as he licked again up your neck.
“With one-two-three, ye begged for breath an’ gave it all to me—“
“Whack-fol-lol ye’re mine in pain and mine ye’ll always be!”
Those crimson lips of his enveloped yours in a brutal kiss, tongues clashing and blood-slick, hands gripping your back. You didn’t care that his fangs scraped yours, cutting the insides of both your mouths, the pain fed you.
The horde screamed the chorus now, chanting words in repeat over and over while some vampires slammed the side of their head against another’s neck, teeth digging deep and the moan that came was not of pain.
The pulse of the music turned carnal as Remmick’s grip tightened, hand sliding down your spine as he guided you. Three tight revolutions, bodies flush and hips swaying against one another like they’d forgotten how to move apart.
He leaned in then, his lips so close they nearly brushed yours.
“I’d guard ye from the hunter’s stake, from sunlight an’ fire—”
His voice curled low and that’s when you moved, tilting in subtly, slipping through the circle of his arms until your breath ghosted over the side of his throat, just under his jaw, where the skin was still damp and pink and warm from the earlier feast.
A shudder, almost imperceptible, passed through him the second your lips brushed over that spot, the way he’d always melt in this type of intimacy when your fangs came anywhere near his throat.
“—I’d tear their—hhhhnngh—ah—!”
Slow, precise and mean your own fangs payed the favor back and sank in, his whole body convulsed.
A thunderous grunt forced through gritted fangs and a throat that couldn’t decide whether it wanted to groan or growl. The lyric crumbled as his voice cracked with ecstasy.
His hand slammed to your waist to keep you close in the crook of his neck, the other tangled into your shirt, claws curling in the fabric scratching the skin beneath. His body buckled forward, rocking against you with a lurch as the sensation tore through him.
The rich and ancient blood was hot in your mouth and his hand spasmed once on your back as your tongue lapped against the punctures and then you pulled back, fangs dragging.
Red eyes now staring at your gold ones. Feral and burning, irises like raw flesh, veins flickering around the edge as he stared. Hands rising to your face like a man unsure whether to cradle it or crush it. Palms to your jaw, knuckles bent slightly, thumbs brushing your cheekbones.
He didn’t look away from you, didn’t even blink as he kept you locked to his chest.
The horde did what he ordered them to do, their mouths moved like they’d been carved to do it, voices rising in unison, unnerving in their unity.
“I’d tear their hearts, curse all their names, and leave their kin afraid—”
“With one-two-three, I’d watch ‘em burn...”
You tilted your chin up instinctively, and he bit again, a graze across your jaw that made your knees buckle.
“...and bless each mark I made...”
He groaned, the sound muffled against your skin.
“Whack-fol-lol! I’d murder saints but not protect ye from me...”
A pause from all of them. His lips brushed your temple, then your cheekbone, then just under your eye, barely touching and your whole body arched toward his.
“...mo ghrá.”
My love.
Mumbled with a voice soaked in venom and adoration, a monster who would never allow a god to take you and never promise you safety from himself.
Remmick pressed you tighter, fingers spreading possessively, the other crept up, nails grazing your nape under your hairline.
He rocked you gently, forward and back, the two of you pivoting together like vines twisted too long to separate, steps lazy and slow now, consumed from need.
“One-two-three! Yer mine, ye see!”
He snarled it joyfully, guttural and delighted seconds before his mouth crashed into yours.
Teeth clicked, fangs dragged and blood smearing instantly, impossible to know where the taste of one ended and the other began. It flooded your tongue the second his lips met yours, hot, copper and so sweet.
Your tongues tangled together, slid and twisted with hunger, followed by fangs that scraped him.
He growled, echoing through your jaw when his fangs caught the edge of your own and drove down.
A long strand of spit and blood hung between your lips as he pulled back. He didn’t wipe it.
“One-two-three! Eternally!”
The horde shouted around you, echoing it much louder every time, their chant filled the air.
Then Remmick lifted you. Both his hands gripped your hips and you left the earth like a weightless offering. He held you just inches up, arms flexing and steady, mouth still open and panting.
Your blood painted his chin.
“One-two-three!” The horde crooned again, voice slick with laughter, “Me blood, me prey!”
“Whack-fol-lol, I’ll kiss yer throat an’ bite ’til love turns red an’ frays!”
Every lips surrounding you screamed in jagged unison and, for one heartbeat, the world narrowed to nothing but his hot breath against your throat, the slap of blood dripping off his split lip and smearing your chin as he smiled.
Wide enough to show every fang in his mouth, gleaming and smeared with you.
A single drop of blood rolled down your chin, hovered at the edge and his thumb rose, wiped it gently and then he sucked it clean from the pad of his thumb, red pupils locked on yours the whole time.
The other free hand gripped your hip tighter, dragged you against him, up and forward until you felt his cock, heavy and hard, pressing into your hip through his trousers, the shape of it impossible to ignore.
His hips rolled a little to make your breath catch and your thighs twitch. He hummed against your neck now, lips dragging along your artery, fangs barely touching skin as he whispered into your blood.
“...mine.”
A soft press of heat and promise to your collarbone, where his earlier bite still pulsed faintly.
While still holding your waist to keep you pressed against his sturdy and blood slick build, he turned and looked up at the black sky.
He looked hopeful, a boyish glint in his eyes in hope of soon seeing his kin.
“See what the rest of ‘em do, won’tcha?! If they’re fightin’, let ‘em. I ain’t in the mood—”
He paused, his hand dipped lower, enough to pull a shiver from you.
He grinned at you sideways, wicked and full of promise.
“...want to spend some quality time with me darlin’ here.”
The vampires snarl, moan, hiss with frustration, but obey.
He was already walking away, dragging you with him.
One foot forward, heel–toe–toe, shoulder angled with a predator’s grace, spine loose and coiled, a slow hop as he pivoted.
Your fingers slid into his, slick still with blood and the moment they locked he spun you under his arm. He was laughing, a low, rumbling chuckle bubbling from his throat and spilling from his fanged smile.
Heel–toe–hop. Pivot. Hop-click-sliding your way far from everyone and everything else.
You followed so close your bodies barely separate, knees brushing, hips kissing together. He dipped you low, enough that your chest pressed to his, fangs flashing as you grinned up at him. Then he jerked you forward into a bounding step-turn, his arm wrapped tightly around your back, and your momentum crashed you against his chest with force.
His mouth found your neck again like he couldn’t bear one more beat without your taste in his throat. His lips pressed to the old wound, tongue darting out in rapid, needy flicks between gasps. Your head dropped back to give him more access.
He pushed you, one final half-twirl of your joined hands brought you both down and landed on his back with a thud muffled by moss and you landed on him.
You lean down while straddling him, breath shallow, feverish, letting your ass grind deliberately over the thick, clothed bulge beneath him. The movement earns you a guttural groan from deep in Remmick’s chest.
Your lips part in a breathless laugh, giddy and intoxicated by the way his hips jerk upward involuntarily, unable to stop himself. You lean down further, chest brushing his while you smear open-mouthed kisses and sharp bites across his neck and shoulder. The fabric of his shirt clings damp to his skin, soaked through with blood, some yours, some his, some shared.
Remmick moans, voice half-lost in a laugh as he bites into your jaw with a sound more like a growl, one hand gripping your ass, the other spreading wide over your lower back to grind you down harder against him.
His movements are sloppy and urgent as your fangs drag along the edge of his throat, smearing blood across your lips. His skin tastes like old iron, you don’t need air, but your breaths come shallow anyway, ragged with anticipation, each inhale thick with the scent of copper and lust.
You barely notice the whisper of his voice in your skull until you obey before realizing it.
With trembling fingers and clumsy movements, you reach down, heart slamming against ribs as your hands paw at his belt, dragging the buckle loose with a frustrated noise between your teeth. He watches you, his red eyes locked onto every desperate motion like a predator who already knows how the hunt ends.
His voice pulses behind your eyes, like every syllable strokes a nerve that blooms with heat.
You manage the fastenings with frantic fingers, pushing open the stiff fabric and when you finally drag his cock free, you hear him hiss through his fangs, eyes fluttering closed for half a heartbeat before snapping back open. His cock is thick and flushed, slick already, the head swollen dark and leaking.
“Look at ye starvin’ f’it,” he mutters, voice breaking in half between a laugh and a grunt, hands sliding into your hair, tugging to make your scalp sting. He grins wide and you see his fangs glint, stained red. “Show me how good ye obey.”
Sliding down between his legs, mouth watering at the smell of him, you lower your face to the crease of his thigh, mouth opening wide to bite into the soft flesh just beside the root of his cock and you sink in, tongue lapping the blood as it wells.
He growls, hips jerking again as your mouth lingers, tongue rolling over the bite, lips sucking around the wound like you’re trying to drink him dry, his cock twitches with every flick of your tongue.
You trail kisses along his inner thigh, mouth smeared with blood and spit, teeth grazing the sensitive skin until he twitches again, moaning low.
Then you turn your mouth toward his cock and slide your tongue up from the base to the tip, slow and deliberate over the flushed head.
Lips stretching wide as you take him, swallowing inch by inch, throat relaxing as he sinks deeper and he grits out a curse through clenched teeth, fingers tightening in your hair.
Your jaw aches already, but you don’t stop, tongue working him with practiced ease, curling under the shaft, lapping at the slit just like how you knew he enjoyed it.
Bobbing your head in rhythm, slick sounds echoing between your lips and his skin while he thrusts into your mouth, shallow but insistent.
His hand wraps around the back of your skull, palm hot and wide as they push you deeper and faster. Your throat spasms once, then you force it to relax to take him deeper, drool spilling from your lips to coat his shaft, eyes glazed and wet as you lock them onto his.
Glowing eyes half-lidded, mouth slack with pleasure, head tilted back against the mossy earth and fangs in full views from your point of view. He groaned with every drag of your mouth down his cock.
You moan around his cock, long and muffled, vibrating through his shaft and he jerks hard, hissing through his teeth.
“Ye love this—ahhh! Fuckin’ mouth, ‘s like a fuckin’ velvet trap,” he gasps, hips stuttering. “Every fuckin’ time—can’t get enough of yeh.”
Your mouth works him harder now, sucking him deep, tongue flattening beneath the shaft, dragging upward in hard, wet licks before plunging back down again.
You pull back slightly, lips still wrapped around the head, tongue teasing the underside as he pants. Then you dive back down, taking him in messier and hungrier.
The muscles of his thighs tense under your hands and you feel his muscles trembling, as you obediently take him harder and faster.
His hips thrust once, twice, buried deep, and his cock pulses hot against your tongue as his cum floods your throat. You swallow every drop, greedy and desperate, milking him with your mouth until he twitches with overstimulation.
You barely had a second to lick the last drop off your lips before Remmick shifted, grunting low as he pushed himself upright, his thighs spreading wide in the dirt.
Then his eyes found you still on your knees hovering over, mouth glistening and face smeared with his cum and blood, yours and his tangled in drying streaks across your lips and chin.
“Me sweet lad, c’mere,” he growled, thick brogue curling around the command.
There was no hesitation as you climbed onto his lap, knees settling on either side of his hips, thighs already trembling from how hard he’d made you work your throat, your body swaying just slightly, drawn forward into him like gravity had rewritten itself to center on his heat.
His cock, still hard and slick with the remnants of your mouth, pressed up under the curve of your clothed ass. The friction as you sank down into his lap made both of you hiss in tandem.
“Fuck—” a groaned passed through your lips while rocking once to feel it again, that ridge of heat and hardness grinding up into you through the layer of cloth. His hands caught your hips instantly, palms wide and rough, dragging you flush to him and grinding you down harder.
You braced yourself with your hands on his shoulders, fingers digging into muscle, the bulk of him under your touch still quivering with aftershock and hunger. Then you tilted your mouth to his, your lips parting, catching him in a kiss. You tasted iron and salt, his tongue met yours with a violent rhythm, dragging the blood from your teeth into his mouth.
His hands slipped under your shirt, curling around your waist, dragging you impossibly close until your back arched like a drawn bow. Your cock throbbed untouched, grinding against his abdomen through the soaked barrier of your pants and every thrust of your hips against his made both of you gasp against each other’s mouths.
“Yer so good like this,” he hissed between kisses, voice broken, breath hot against your cheek. “So fuckin’ pretty all drippin’ blood, gimme that mouth again—”
You moaned into his lips, catching his lower one between your teeth, biting until it split again and then sucking the blood straight from it.
He snarled, hips jerking upward under you, then he leaned in, breath ragged and lips moving against your skin in wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and cheek, biting the corner of your mouth, trailing down to your throat.
His breath is shaky, his voice fraying between each mouthful of you. “Don’t know why any fucker’d refuse this,” he pants, dragging his lips across your jaw, to your neck, nipping, licking. “They can’t even dream of what we have. A hundred years wi’ ye and I’d trade none of it.”
He chuckles darkly against your throat, voice vibrating through your skin. His teeth scrape your collarbone and you moan aloud, fingers tightening around his shoulders.
You press your forehead to his, panting, laughing softly against his mouth when you take a peek at his memories regarding the conversation he had minutes ago with those few survivors left.
“That woman inside,” you murmur, catching his eye with a grin. “The Asian one. The look on her face when you spoke to her in her language—”
You snicker into his lips, kiss him, bite him, your nails trailing down his back.
“That was irreplaceable!”
Remmick grins, blood-wet with slick fangs.
You kiss him again, slower now, heat pooling between your legs as your hips grind harder against him, your clothed cock rubbing against his.
“You sounded hot speakin’ like that...”
Eyebrows lifted in malice, taking hold of your jaw hard, not enough to hurt, but just shy of it, pulling your face closer, voice dipped lower and meaner.
“Ngóh wúih yāt bin yáuh yāt bin dei chóu néih, jí dou néih m̀h soéng yiu hyut, jí soéng yiu ngóh.”
(Ah'll fuck ye raw, lad-'til even blood don't tempt ye. Ye'll thirst f'r nothin' but me cock, me hands, me fuckin' name.)
Your breath catches before answering in the same language, between panting kisses, mouth still bleeding at the edge.
"Bai jéui, jouh jauh deui la."
(Shut up. Just do it.)
His laugh cut through the air, wicked and soaked in delight. That terrible and beautiful grin, teeth bloodstained, lips split at the corner and fangs bared like a beast flashed just before he struck.
The claws that replaced his hands gripped your hip hard enough to leave bruises for hours and, in one brutal movement, he slammed you to the ground. The breath left your lungs from the overwhelming heat that ripped through your body as your back hit the dirt, the weight of his body settling over you as he crawled over you on all fours, curls falling forward.
He was already on your neck, sinking his teeth into the slope just under your jaw with no warning. His tongue followed, slick and hot, lapping at the blood as it spilled, moaning against your skin while your legs instinctively lifted, wrapping tight around either side of his waist.
You groaned loud as he bit again on your collarbone, your shoulder. Each puncture dragged your spine off the ground and made your cock throb painfully, the fabric sticking uncomfortably against your skin from sweat, blood and precome. His tongue was everywhere, hot and greedy, dragging along every smear he’d made, each kiss leaving a new streak of spit and red across your chilled skin while purring against your skin.
Then he began crawling down your chest, hands moving with him, palms flat against your body and his claws raked slow lines down your shirt, tearing the fabric down its path.
He nosed at your sternum, then your abdomen, licking at old and fresh blood alike, smearing the remnants of bites you didn’t even realized were still bleeding.
You were gasping now, hips twitching upward with every pass of his tongue, and he laughed, low and hot.
“Don’t ye make the sweetest sounds, aye?”
He pulled at the waistband of your pants and the fabric resisted for a moment, his breath catching as if considering just tearing them like every other time but, miraculously, he controlled himself.
He wanted those clothes still on you, limping in them, reeking of him, to let the others smell the grave on you. Let them know who you belonged to.
With practiced speed, he tugged them down your legs, leaving them bunched around your knees just long enough to stare.
Red eyes, wet and glassy with the lust that never faded, raked over you.
Your cock stood hard and proud, flushed, twitching in the open air, smeared with your own need and the remnants of your earlier mess with him. The moment the cold air hit it, it twitched again.
“Ahhh... would ye look at that,” he moaned, voice gone low and near reverent now, claws diggin’ hard into yer thighs. “Beggin’ without sayin’ a word, aren’t ye?”
His fingers dug in sharp, curved and obscene as he yanked your legs apart wider and pulled them up onto his shoulders, folding you open as he bent down to your inner thigh and bit.
Your whole body bucked with the shock, pain and pleasure stitched together so tight there was no telling them apart anymore. His fangs sank into the tender skin there, just inches from your cock and the groan that ripped out of you could’ve brought angels to their knees.
You grabbed at the ground again, useless, cried out as he bit again. His tongue lapped the blood before it even dripped, slurping noisily, moaning around each suck, eyes half-lidded with ecstasy.
Your cock twitched, harder than it had been all night, pulsing in the air untouched and he chuckled against your skin, teeth brushing your thigh.
“Sweet cries, darlin’, all for me, an’ me alone. Ain’t a soul alive gets to hear ye like this.” he murmured, licking a stripe from one wound to another.
Another bite, a lap soon followed, then a muffled groan from deep in his throat like he was feasting on your pleasure as much as your blood. You tried to buck or grind against his chest, but he held your thighs too tight, pinned and parted as he worked his mouth all over your legs.
“Fuck—fuck, Remmick—” gasping rapidly, your hands curled into fists as you dug into the dirt beneath you.
He looked up at you and that image would never leave your brain.
Face soaked in blood, smeared across his lips, chin, nose, his tongue flicking out. Eyes wild and red, burning like a pyre. His claws curling around your legs possessively, his whole frame heaving with restraint and desire.
His breath hitched and he grinned again, all fangs and madness, dragging his face back toward your cock now, blood smearing across your hips and pulled your legs tighter around him, his claws now digging into your calves, dragging your body closer, inch by inch, until your cock was hovering just above his face, leaking and trembling.
A rush of hot, humid wind hit the tip, his lips hovering just above the head, eyes still of that furious red.
The heat that enveloped your dick nearly broke you, his tongue pressing firm and guiding it past his fangs with such perfect control. You felt them barely enough to kiss the shape of your shaft, grazing along the sensitive underside, just like how he knew you liked it.
Whole back arching off the ground as he moaned around your length, the vibrations sending shocks through your gut. His claws slid from your thighs up to your abdomen and pressed down too hard, the tips punctured without warning.
They dug deeper as he pushed your hips back into the dirt, holding you down as he sucked you deeper, inch by inch, until his nose brushed the blood-wet hair above your cock. His tongue rolled and flattened, lapping with desperate, animal greed, every flick sending you closer to the edge and making your thighs tighten around him.
Each time your hips bucked up, his claws pressed harder into your belly, drawing fresh lines of red that seeped into your shirt and stained your skin, the blood running in rivulets.
He pulled back with a wet gasp, your cock glistening with spit and the smear of blood he’d dragged up from your thighs, and without a second of breath he turned his head and latched back onto the bite he’d left just minutes ago on the inside of your thigh and sucked hard.
Your whole body convulsed while crying out with his fangs biting shallow into the wound and tongue working in messy, greedy laps.
Loud and gluttonous sounds were muffled to your skin, strings of spit and blood connecting his lips to your skin as he grinned wide, eyes locked on yours.
“Tell me how it feels, darlin’,” he panted, tongue draggin’ slow ‘cross his bottom lip, blood glintin’ red as he licked it clean. “Tell me if ’m doin’ it right...or if I need t’cut a new map into that body ‘til you never forget me.”
The clawmarks across your belly burned as he flexed his fingers, dragging the tips again in small circles, making the blood smear across your skin in wet shapes.
His fangs brushed your shaft, tongue flattening under you.
His throat flexed in time with the desperate suck of his lips.
One claw slid between your legs, curved under your ass, fingers sharp and possessive as they dragged you closer, lifting your hips into the rhythm of his mouth like you were weightless.
The pressure became unbearable, your hands finally found his hair and tangled in it, gripping as you gasped and choked on your own cries.
Just as you thought you couldn’t take another second, he pulled back. Just the head in his mouth now and he circled it with his tongue once.
Then he bit right behind the head, those fangs dragging along the most sensitive flesh causing your body to twist euphorically.
He groaned around it, swallowing everything you gave him while holding you down with one hand on your abdomen and the other still under your ass as your whole body shook through the orgasm.
Only when your cock softened slightly on his tongue did he pull back, lips red and shining, spit trailing from his chin to your stomach.
The perfect view of your body was served in front of his crimson eyes, trembling and wrecked with blood cooling in streaks across your stomach where his claws had dug in, your cock still twitching from the brutal orgasm he’d just wrung.
And he wasn’t even done.
Remmick rose back over you with a groan, body gleaming with blood and filth and power, thighs flexing, cock hard again.
“Still wi’ me, are ye?” he rasped before grabbing your hips to drag you back toward him, the thick and insistent head of his cock pressed hot and heavy against your entrance, already pulsing like it knew where it belonged.
You felt him pause just long enough to grind the head of it against you, smearing the precome, circling your rim, pushing in only slightly and then back out again in cruel teasing.
“Ready t’be mine again?” he murmured, leaning close until his lips brushed your ear, the heat of him a fever pressing into your side. “Let me in, aye? Let me fuck ye full ‘til all that’s left rattlin’ ‘round in there’s my name.”
You gasped, eyes fluttering. He grinned before proceeding to push in.
The stretch took hold and he groaned right behind your moan, a deep sound that vibrated in his chest and poured out of him like a threat.
He bottomed out in one long, brutal thrust, cock thick and wide, punching your insides into shaking submission. Your body twitched under him, legs flexing around his waist, arms rising without meaning to, desperate to hold something.
Brutal move, deep and rough thrusts like. He leaned over you, one hand braced near your shoulder, the other gripping your thigh so hard you could feel the bruises blooming.
Every thrust drove deeper, cock stretching you wide, the curve of it hitting something inside you that made your vision blur.
Remmick’s mouth was on you again, biting at your neck, your chest, licking the blood he’d already spilled from your collar. His fangs dragged down your throat in time with each brutal push of his cock, your body jerking beneath him while hr laughed into your skin.
“Ye make the loveliest little sounds, don’t ye,” he purred, hips snappin’ up into ye again, harder now.
You could feel his cock twitch. He was close, you felt it in the way his grip tightened on your thigh or how his jaw clenched on your wound.
“Almost there, love,” he panted. “Gonna fill ye so full—leave it drippin’ out of ye so they all know—”
His claws dug in harder and when he snapped his hips forward one last time, burring himself as he came.
Thick, hot pulses flooding you deep, body clenching around him to try and keep every drop while he gasped and moaned through clenched teeth.
All you could do was gasp against his chest, feel the slick of his body against yours and shudder with the knowledge that this wasn’t the end.
Not by a long shot.