Love Is War { Kveria | EverUndine }

Kveria · Jan 14, 2015

l o v e . i s . w a r
Kveria | EverUndine

It was past noon before Alistair could drag himself out of the double bed in the corner of the room, not bothering to stifle a yawn as his bare feet scraped across the floor with little enthusiasm for the night ahead of him, ineffectively trying to avoid a newspaper that he’d left on the floor a few days ago and never bothered to pick up. Generally he was more orderly than this, but times had been tough and things were being neglected as a result of this new development. Much to his chagrin, of course, because now he was paying for it having to shake the reluctant newsprint from the pad of his foot where it clung desperately for dear life.

He loved his job, no doubt about that, and maybe he even loved it a little too much; but as a mere mortal, Alistair wasn’t meant to be active at night while sleeping during daylight hours. He had never even been much of a night owl at all until he’d taken up a career in Vampire Hunting and deregulated his circadian rhythm. He’d had problems keeping employment in the past, and so it seemed that something with less yappy manager and more flexibility and freedom was right up his alley. “Try hunting,” someone had told him. “The hours suck and the pray sucks even more, if they get a hold of you that is…. But you should be fine as long as they don’t get a hold of you.” He was skeptical at first, but he found that it was very simple and straightforward. Pick up the warrants, remove the head, return for a hefty sum. He could work as much or as little as he wanted, chose his own hours, and didn’t have someone breathing down his neck about receipt withholding or improper packaging, not making deliveries on time, et cetera. His favourite was the lecture about not saying, “Up yours.” to customers because they tended to not appreciate it. Well, maybe he was in the wrong that time, but those were just minor details.

Once he’d bathed, scrubbing all the dried blood, sweat, and dirt from his skin and hair, he had to pull the sheets from his bed and throw them in the wash basin—he’d get to them later on before heading out on another hunt. The night before had been long and hard; he’d only destroyed one target who’d proved insanely difficult, and as if that weren’t enough, his poor revolver had been decimated in the struggle. Still, that morning he’d dropped the head off, received his payment, then grabbed a stack of new faces and headed home. When he’d collapsed in bed, he’d just barely made it to getting his socks and shoes off, though the outfit he’d been wearing stayed put. When he finally awoke and shed out of them, they went into the cast iron wood stove that heated his small studio apartment; there were so many rips and tears that he didn’t feel confident patching them himself, and even if he did, the stench of Vampire blood was thick enough to choke him. They were a lost cause.

The jacket had been his favourite, too.

Of course, he mused this as he pulled on a seldom worn jacket from his closet, buttoning his riding boots up his legs, none of that would have happened if the tracker he’d been issued hadn’t malfunctioned at the most inopportune moment. That really burned him up; now he had to take it back to its inventor to have it fixed because—he wouldn’t admit it without internally grumbling and beating his pride into submission—he’d actually become more adept with the aid of these inventions. He needed this device more than any of the others, and that meant visiting the Vampire who had crafted it. Not the number one thing on his bucket list, however; Alistair could go a hundred lifetimes and be satisfied never seeing Jolyon at all. The silver-tongued way in which he had coerced the abrasive and ruthless Hunter into a deal was a little more than sickening; he couldn’t stand that lowly maggot, had promised him on a number of occasions that it would be him to end the Vampire’s life once he proved useless like all his blood-sucking brethren. Then again, in Alistair’s mind, words were words and actions were a whole other story. He expected Jolyon knew in some form or another that he was kind of… maybe just a tad bit… appreciated.

Alistair left the apartment with a canvas bag containing his precious revolver and the fragments he was able to salvage which were wrapped in a cotton handkerchief, and the tracking device which he’d placed inside without wrapping it to make it look like he couldn’t possibly have cared less about it. With that, he began his excursion by making his way down the rusted iron staircase at the back of the red brick building. There was hardly anyone on the streets as the sun’s aggressively bright corona slipped past the edge of the horizon, giving way to a brilliant explosion of reds, oranges and pinks, which was swallowed from above by night which settled in over the city with a great inky blackness. As he walked with purpose and drive, yet with nary a sound as his boots hit the cobblestone streets—wanting to get this visit over and done with as soon as possible—Alistair couldn’t help tilting his chin just slightly to scan the tops of the buildings. From his apartment windows, he could usually see the stars, but from all the way down there he saw nothing but still indigo which covered everything in eerie silence.

There was motion just then, though, in the not too far off shadow of a small bakery, about three levels up. His eyes caught it, his left hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his elaborately crafted hunting knife, giving whatever it was the benefit of the doubt. There had been way too many instances of a bloodthirsty hunter taking out his desire on one of their own simply because they’d become so invested in their work that anything that could possibly move at night was probably a Vampire. This one appeared to move silently and gracefully, stalked him down the street as he walked. He understood that the thing probably just wanted a meal like any other living creature, but this one had chosen the wrong side dish that night.

When he pounded a fist on the door to Jolyon’s workspace and barged in like he normally did, he dropped the head down on the floor with a sigh, happy to be somewhat relieved of the already developing stench of blood. “Goddamned thing thought it’d make a meal out of me. They’re getting damned desperate if they’re attacking hunters now; you’d think they knew better.” With that, he tossed the canvas bag across to the inventor, leaning up against a wall with his arms crossed coolly over his chest. “That circular scanning thing you gave me was a bust. It only lasted the week; can’t you do any better?”

EverUndine · Jan 14, 2015

It had become somewhat of a 'normal' occurrence for this human Hunter to barge into Jolyon Black's only refuge from the world and, to be honest, it didn't bother the vampire as much as he claimed it did. This Alistair man, if he could be called a man (this was a real point of contention with Jolyon as he had been alive for nearly a thousand years and found it extremely difficult to consider anyone under the age of five hundred to be 'men', they were still young men in his eyes), this young man was actually incredibly good-looking and he had a confidence about him that made Jolyon actually like the human. He knew he would be receiving a visit from the hunter relatively soon, he could hear the strong heart, pumping the blood through human veins. It was a song he would never grow tired of, a great and gorgeous symphony of life. And those smells: one smell, mouth-watering and sweet and oh-so-tempting; the other, foul and sickening and dead, a vampire's blood.

"Couldn't you have at least wrapped that thing up?" He didn't bother looking to see whom the head belonged to, he had only enemies among his own kind. One wasn't always the most popular person when one made the decision to create tools for the easier and faster slaughter of one's own species. Instead of peaking to see who had literally lost their head Jolyon kept his blue eyes on the invention before him. His goggles magnifying each tiny piece which, with his vampire sight, allowed him to see at an almost molecular level (that was a different lens' function.) "I'm working on something I think you'll like very much. This here-" he gestured to the extension he was soldering to the pistol he held, "-is a flintlock pistol which I...confiscated from a British police officer about...oh, I'd say about two hundred and twenty five years ago, give or take a few. And this! Well this here is something that I believe will muffle the sound of the shot greatly. Now, it won't be completely silent, but most certainly much less noisy. More like a 'pop' and less like a 'bang', if you will."

Finishing up his work, he pulled the goggles from his eyes, letting them rest on top of his head and his eyes moved from his bench to the man in the room. Oh, yes, this was why he didn't just eat the human there and then: those hazel eyes which changed color nearly every time Jolyon looked at them, that brown hair with those fiery tones lying beneath, and that neck. That neck, pale and smooth and pulsating with life and warmth and- Stop. No. He couldn't let himself go down that path. He was a man of his word and he had sworn to provide Alistair with tools so long as he, in turn, promised not to hunt Jolyon. He had also promised not to kill any humans. Of course, Alistair had taken this as a promise not to feed on humans and Jolyon had let him believe that he would only be feeding on rats and mangy stray dogs (Never cats. Jolyon had an affinity for cats and could never bring himself to feed on any, most certainly the reason for the many strays who sought food and refuge in his workshop. There were five cats there at any given time). This was not a lie, he often told himself, he was simply omitting the truth. He truly didn't kill humans anymore, but he did feed from them. Little bits from many more than willing hosts. Jolyon was not an ugly man, both men and women appreciated his beauty.

The Vampire's ice-colored eyes looked briefly at the small sack he had been tossed. "Can't save the weapon, but you knew that, didn't you." It wasn't a question. Jolyon moved to stand before the Hunter with lightening quick speed and the graceful, smooth movement of a leaf floating on the wind, a perk of being a very old vampire. "Are you going to pay me this time?" He let two of his cold and surprisingly smooth fingers trace a path over the corded muscle in Alistair's neck (Vampires could not develop callouses due to their skin being dead and to their inability to change or age in physical appearance), moving out of the way of Alistair's fist and laughing softly. "Come on, I'm lonely and hungry, all thanks to you."

He focused his attention on the tracker Alistair had brought back to him. He could see the oils of human hands all over the thing and he knew that the human was only trying to make him think it was useless. It was obvious he had loved the invention quite literally to death, he chuckled at the irony, choosing not to share it with the human. "You know you can't lie to me. You are still so young, and you have so many tells," he smirked as he picked up the tracker and pulled his goggles over his eyes, changing the setting to allow him to see inside the machine without taking it apart. "Did you drop this?!"

He could see without even asking that the human had, in fact, dropped it. A few of the key parts inside had broken loose from their fittings and he quickly got to work opening the thing so he could remedy that. "You can't drop this thing! It's not made to withstand a beating, it's made to locate things, namely vampires." He ran a hand through his hair as he mumbled to himself once the machine was open, putting parts down and then soldering them in place. "You can't drop this. It's a location device, not a club." He smirked as he continued his repair, knowing that whatever he said now the Hunter couldn't retaliate while he was working on his inventions (it required a very steady hand, you see). "When do I get to taste you, hm? You smell so mouthwatering, I swear I'll only take a little," it was all to rile the man up but it was also completely true. The man did smell completely amazing and he wanted ever so badly to have just the tiniest of tastes.

Kveria · Jan 15, 2015

At the news that his revolver couldn’t be saved, Alistair let his eyes fall into a cold glare at the floor, more disheartened than angry. Yes, he knew. He just didn’t want to hear it. He had figured that even though he knew in his heart that it couldn’t be done, that perhaps there was something Jolyon could do about it. No dice, though. All sense of hope was chucked out the window. He huffed indignantly, swinging his leg to connect his toe with the severed head at his feet. Maybe he was being immature about it, and maybe everyone could just fuck off because he didn’t care what anyone thought. The gun had been an important piece to him, something his father had given him when he’d left his home in the countryside to find a life in the big city. He exchanged wide open fields and hard but honest work for a place where the air was thick with smoke and the women’s corsets were just a touch too tight just to accentuate their curvature and large bosoms.

The city was a dirty place where he’d very quickly had to grow up almost thirteen years ago now. It was unlike anything he ever could have experienced at home if he’d taken over the farm like he was supposed to before the debt collectors started coming around. The point of moving to look for work was to help pay off his parents’ debt, but that had been years ago and by the time he could come home, he’d already exhausted all his funds having put them toward keeping the farm. It didn’t help that he’d already been through several jobs and there were very few people left who would hire him. But… well, Alistair had no one to blame but himself. He’d always been a little bit on the testy side, and apparently there was no one in the city who would put up with his rugged country boy ways. Of course, since then, he’d refined himself quite a bit more, curbed the light accent as best he could though it would always be just barely present, and he found himself work that helped him relieve stress. Maybe it wasn’t constructive and maybe he’d become something of a recluse because of it, but the only thing that really mattered was that he’d found somewhere that he wanted to be, doing something he wanted to do.

Killing Vampires wasn’t just to release tension, prove strength, avoid normal people, or make money. There was also a sense of pride and justice that accompanied it with every head piled up in his wake. Vampires were the beasts in Human form who took the life of Humans in order to survive; that was just the food chain, he understood, but as long as there had been predators and prey, there had been someone fighting to get to the top and stay there. He couldn’t think of many other species that would actively hunt their predator either for food or sport. Humans were sentient, they had thoughts and feelings, and the ability to deviate from the path that had originally been set for them. That alone, he felt, made them a species worth protecting from the one thing that no one wanted to tangle with. He could do it. So he did. And that’s all there was to it.

Except this one. Jolyon was a different story. He was alwaysa different story; a complex vexation that always left this throbbing pain in the Hunter’s left temple, which he now reached up to knead with his middle and index fingers, resisting the urge to place his hand over the spot that the obsidian-haired inventor had decided to caress without permission, and also in a way that made his skin burn, his breath catch. He didn’t know what to do about him. Jolyon, to Alistair, was an enigma. An anomaly that was always just there and would never cease to be. He would continue long after Alistair just as he was there long before. And for the rest of Alistair’s natural life, he would continue to be bothered wondering what exactly it was that made the other tick, no matter how fruitless the musings were.

“I didn’t drop it,” he lied with a deep scowl. “It fell out of my pocket; not my fault you’re too incompetent to make things more durable.” It was always this—back and forth banter where usually Jolyon would poke at him and Alistair would retaliate in a very predictable and aggressive fashion, sometimes physically and sometimes verbally depending on the day. It didn’t matter, he could never land a hit anyway. It made him wonder what would happen if he ever did seriously try to kill the Vampire; a bullet to the head or a knife severing that pretty head from that perfect pale neck….

His eyes wandered to Jolyon’s back where he was soldering away on the tracking device. If more Vampires were like him, Alistair would be out of a job; despite the fact that he was a monster in physicality, Alistair had gotten to know him over the time that they’d had dealings together, and it was blatantly obvious that he wasn’t like the others. For one, not all of his kind were beautiful creatures who lured their prey with seduction—there were others who were nothing but mindless killing machines, endlessly famished and craving more of their preferred meal. Jolyon, despite being as old he was, maintained a sense of humanity as far as Alistair could see, and he was level-headed, rational… kind of (who else would intentionally provoke a guy with a mug like Alistair’s, honestly?), and more intelligent than just about everyone he’d ever met before. Then, he was also very self-serving. To dump one’s own race, throwing them to the wolves so to speak, and help the enemy just for one’s own survival? This was something Alistair could definitely appreciate. This was someone who would do whatever it took to stay alive, and for that alone he deserved to be spared if nothing else.

Then there was that face, the silky jet-coloured hair, the smooth and even skin, the slight taper in his body down to his waist…. He was a little thinner than Alistair and had a much nicer— No! He ripped his eyes away, realising just where they’d come to rest, and to try and relieve some of the innate embarrassment the Hunter wet his lips briefly, swallowing down the lump that had been building up for some time now. Yes, it wasn’t the first time he’d caught himself checking the other man out. In the last month or so, the attraction had surmounted quickly, leaving Alistair reeling. He didn’t understand it, but he wanted to attribute it to the idea he’d read about in a book once—some vampirologists actually believed that some of those filthy leeches had the ability to lure Humans in with a sort of charm, or a power to dazzle the Human mind; mind control in short. The best way to know for sure would just be to ask Jolyon, there was no doubt that he would know the answer. And if it were true, he could then ask if Jolyon had been charming him in the last few weeks, maybe as a joke. That was a possibility. That wasn’t just a possibility; it was a likelihood. And it was also likely that Jolyon wouldn’t answer that second inquiry directly. So what was the point? There was none. Alistair would continue to fight it.

At the Vampire’s next words, Alistair went completely rigid; there was a surge of something negative that he couldn’t quite peg down. It was somewhere between exasperation, anger and disgust. “You can forget that right now, Jolyon. It’s never going to happen, and you know it.” He knew he could never connect; it didn’t stop him from wanting to try. But, he desperately wanted that tracker back, and he wasn’t going to get it by interrupting Jolyon’s work. He’d learned that early on, and since then he’d been increasingly less hands-on. It wasn’t that he was getting to be more patient, quite the opposite actually. It was more or less that Jolyon had a talent for helping kill off his own kind, and Alistair needed that.

“Hurry the fuck up. I want to see that muffler thing you made, and the flintlock pistol.” He’d never seen one that old before, and the firearms enthusiast in him had been a little excited when he heard about it. Plus, the benefits to something that could silence the sound of his shots were immense. He wanted so badly to test it out soon.

EverUndine · Jan 15, 2015

Jolyon didn't miss the barely audible exhalation as Alistair hung his head at the news that his weapon could not be saved. Obviously it was more than just a weapon to the young man and he made sure to set the bag away and see just what else he could do with the pieces. He knew what it was to experience loss and, he hated to admit it, he had actually started to care just the tiniest bit about the young human's well-being. Before Alistair had found him he had virtually no contact with any living being besides the cats he loved so dearly and the people he snacked on. He had grown reclusive in this smoke-covered city, and he often reminisced about the days before industry took over the world. The way the smoke settled heavily in the city reminded him of the mornings in Ireland, when the mist was thick enough to slice through and it went on for miles and miles.

He remembered his childhood in the hills of Ireland, in the year 848 AD he had been ten years old. Just ten when the Vikings invaded his village and killed his father and raped his mother before cutting off her head. The only reason he survived was because his father had hidden him in the damp cave nearby. He wandered the countryside looking for work, food and rest where he could find it. It was 867 AD when he had met the man who would make him who he was. Thorstein the Red. It was obvious, in hindsight, how he had earned such a colorful moniker. Thorstein had been the one to find him eating lichen in Sutherland, starving and almost dead and trying to avoid the battlefields. He had been the one to take Jolyon into his arms and give him the gift of immortality, and it had been the same man to train him in the ways of war and of bloodshed.

Only twenty years later Thorstein taught Jolyon one of the most important lessons a vampire could learn: how to survive. When the humans he surrounded himself with found that Thorstein was a vampire they conspired against him, killing him before he had an inkling of what they dared to do. That was what taught Jolyon to keep moving, staying in one place for too long drew attention. He spent most of his time in libraries, teaching himself everything there was to know. Science and mathematics helped him to start creating his inventions, he studied art so that he could draw schematics and painting so that he could paint his memories. Economics and politics helped him gain favor with those in high places and he earned his fortunes with his knowledge of business. He slowly lost the Irish lilt in his speech as he learned to read, write and speak several other languages. Eventually he came here, to this place. He was tired of having to relocate every time the people he associated with began to notice the strangeness of his ever-youthful face. It was nice having someone who knew, someone he didn't have to pretend with, he supposed that is why he had agreed to the business arrangement he had with Alistair.

He was pulled out of his mind with the loud beat of the human heart only feet away from him. The steady rhythm had sped up ever so slightly and the raven-haired vampire brought his focus on the hunter. The capillaries blossomed across his face and gave off the most perfect aroma, it had Jolyon practically salivating. His enlarged canines started to throb painfully as he groaned. He wished this reckless hunter would start letting him know when he would stop by, then at least he could get someone to eat beforehand. He was simply starving and Alistair was making it hard to concentrate.

"Silence, boy," the words escaped from his throat with a low and rumbling growl, his jaw was clenched tightly as he tried to think about anything but that heavenly smell and the throbbing fangs in his mouth. "I know more of killing than I care to admit, but if you rush me again I will have to show you how hungry I really am." The hunger was already mind-numbing and Alistair's petty demands and incessant complaining was wearing thin on him. He had never before lost the slightest bit of control over himself around Alistair, but he was hoping that he would leave him alone and he could get his work done without Alistair hovering like he did. Jolyon fought the urge to simply take what he wanted from the hunter, Alistair had only a knife with him now and Jolyon was sure he was fast enough to surprise him. But he couldn't do that, the young man was tenacious and the last thing he wanted was to have this angry bloke chasing him across continents to settle a personal vendetta.

As he finally finished the tracking device and closed the machine back up, he stood but stayed at his bench, forcing Alistair to come to him for the device. The human's hand gripped it and went to pull it away, Jolyon did not let go just yet. "I know that my inventions are worth more to you than you'd care to say. I know that without them you would be making far less money. Consider this a gift. From now on I want more than just the promise of my life. Come back tomorrow for the flintlock. And be ready to pay me for it." He saw the suspicion and annoyance in the man's eyes and he opened his mouth to say something before Jolyon cut him off, "Not money. I have more of that than I know what to do with, so think outside the box," He smirked, "What does a vampire value?"

Kveria · Jan 16, 2015

When Jolyon fairly growled at him, Alistair was taken aback. This was so unlike him that Alistair had to recheck himself to make sure he hadn’t said anything more rude than usual, but he didn’t think he had. His next theory had to do with the hunger that was most likely surmounting on the ancient being; that was unfortunate, really, but Alistair wasn’t aware that a Vampire had the control to be able to stop before completely draining their victim—that’s why Vampire and Humans were predator and prey respectively, because Vampires killed humans. Alistair’s highly trained eyes could see the signs now that he was looking for them, and he did feel slightly guilty for having imparted the No Feeding rule. He wanted to stick to his guns, but there was something that made him feel demeaned and small when Jolyon spoke in this manner.

It was humiliating.

And his heart still jumped to think of possibility of the Vampire starving to death.

Why was that? Alistair knew only for sure that he’d never felt guilt for his actions and he’d never held enough respect for someone using an irate tone of voice with him to hold back all the smart-assed retorts that ran rampant through his mind. Funny enough, they were completely absent now. His mind was blank. God, just what the Hell was Jolyon doing to him? He wanted to scream, but he wanted to apologise softly and bare his neck for the Vampire. He wasn’t quite ready to die just yet, though. He wanted to believe that he wouldn’t and he could go on living, but what from what he knew, this was a childish fantasy and he shook it from his mind.

Lastly, he was told to bring suitable payment back tomorrow for the pistol. There weren’t many other things that Alistair could think of to give him in return, because what do you give to an undead blood sucker who wasn’t allowed to suck blood? He left without a word, only a solemn nod, gathered his severed head, and was resolve to figure something out before the next night. He wanted that pistol. He wanted it badly enough that he’d offer up his body in return for it… as a last resort maybe…. There was no telling how far that could go and frankly speaking, Alistair wanted nothing to do with that nightmarish fantasy. Wickedly, images zipped through his mind and made him salivate, a strange sort of heat tingling on each of his nerves before settling somewhere much too perfect and much to unpleasant. It was a bitter feeling that he was inclined to return home and relieve himself of, but in a way, wouldn’t that be admitting that the attraction ran powerfully physical? Wouldn’t that give way to more images and more desires, to fuck and be fucked by the darker-haired beauty? Aggressively they plagued; he could feel Jolyon’s silky flesh under his fingers and taste him in his mouth. He was overcome by a heady feeling and swallowed hard.

This was definitely not good.

He’d already made it three blocks, but he wanted to turn around and breathe life into his dreams. Of course, before he could soundly make the decision, the small device in his hand went off and he looked down at the screen to find where the detected presence was hiding. He kept his eyes on it as he instantly changed course and headed for the Vampire as indicated. When he reached the end of a dark alley where the monster sat crouched over something and made loud, obnoxious slurping noises as it presumably fed. It heard him, and he knew that, but usually they were so wrapped up in feeding that they either didn’t sense him or didn’t care. This one, while it had that wild look in its eyes that the depraved type, which was Alistair usually hunted, generally carried it also looked up when he approached. It waited and they watched each other. There was a tense silence where neither moved a muscle; the first one to move had to be the fastest, or he would lose. It was like an old western showdown; the tension mounted until Alistair made a lunge and went for his knife at the same time. The target easily swept out of the way of his attack, then dove in for its own when Alistair was caught off balance. Still, in a combination of blind luck, skill, and muscle memory, Alistair was able to reach forward to take a handful of hair while cutting through the flesh at the base of its neck with little resistance until he hit bone and hauled back for another clean hack. This sent the knife straight through, and Alistair collected his second head for that night.

He continued that night until dawn when he waited outside the bounty office to take his payment and then left with a stack of notes in his back pocket. That had been satisfying. He was covered in mud, blood, and other nasty things once again, and he felt invigorated enough that he didn’t think he’d be able to sleep yet. He still thought it a smart idea to get himself cleaned up at home, and he made off for there first. He’d made up his mind that he would take a quick nap before visiting the bank to deposit his money before he went back over to Jolyon’s that night. Yes, that was a brilliant plan…. Except that… he had no idea what a Vampire would value. The majority of Vampires he experienced were bloodthirsty monsters with absolutely no self-control. He couldn’t comprehend them valuing anything in particular. But when Jolyon said Vampire, he actually meant himself, anyway so his previous musings were those of a dunce. What would an paradox like Jolyon value?

He was at the base of the stairs leading up to his studio apartment when he saw it. The perfect thing to trade for Jolyon’s pistol. He plucked the little calico kitten off the ground under the base step and held her up to face-level with him. She was just barely old enough to be away from her mother and obviously needed something to eat; she also wasn’t exactly familiar with people, and he could infer this with the way she struggled, growling and letting out tiny hisses that actually had him chuckling up until she took a swipe at him and he realised that kittens could have sharp claws as well. Ah, that was fine though. He cradled her in his arm and kept her pressed against his chest as he brought her upstairs to bathe her and give her a small saucer of milk. He didn’t care if she hated him; he planned on giving her to Jolyon as payment anyway.

EverUndine · Jan 16, 2015

Jolyon could hear Alistair's blood pumping for at least three or four blocks as the man retreated back to wherever it was he slept. He had never visited Alistair's home and he doubted he would ever get an invitation to, but it wasn't this that bothered him. He hadn't had a feeling of protectiveness over a human being since his mother was brutally slaughtered by the Viking hoard. There was also a time when he thought he had loved someone but... that did not turn out as planned. That along with the pain of not having fed was making his head spin, and he could only remedy one of those.

He picked up a simple, triangular piece of red cloth and stuck it in his shop window before pulling the blackout curtains over them all in preparation for sunrise. It was only a few hours before someone stepped through that door, heart beating fast, blood pumping through their veins. "Hello, Joly," the soft, feminine voice belonged to a regular visitor of his. "Josephine," he nearly purred, the scent of her blood was intoxicating. Jolyon sat back in his desk chair and pulled the goggles from his face, setting them on his work bench, before patting his lap.

He could smell fresh blood on her as she settled herself in his lap, he rolled up a long sleeve and saw a fresh bitemark on her upper arm. He rolled the sleeve back down, thinking it distasteful to feed from the same area. "Visiting Ivan again, Josephine? You know he is trouble." Ivan was more than trouble, he was the woman's death. Ivan had a sick appetite for playthings, promising love and protection and then torturing his victims when they least expected it. He was much younger that Jolyon, for Jolyon had gone through a similar phase nearly four hundred years ago. But Ivan was also Jolyon's former lover, and Jolyon was the reason Ivan was a vampire. Past memories pulled Jolyon into his own mind, but he had simply to breathe in that delicious smell to come back to this reality. Josephine said nothing in response to his comments about Ivan, she only smiled as he pulled at her blouse to reveal the top of her breasts which were held tightly in place by the bodice she wore. He let his fingers trace over the skin there before sinking his fangs into the flesh bared to him. He vaguely felt her fingers in his hair and he drank deeply, trying to forget the way Alistair frustrated him so. It was to no avail, he could think only of those mesmerizing eyes, the color of his hair, he could only think of how he wished it were the hunter in his lap instead of Josephine.

She let out a little sigh and wriggled against him, these movements appealed to his base nature and he found himself growing hard beneath her. Detaching himself from Josephine's breast he waited for her dizziness to pass and handed her a glass of water from his desk as he fixed her clothing. "I could help with that too," she offered as she finished the glass. A low chuckle escaped his throat, "I am aware of that." He looked at the bag on his desk, the bag with pieces of Alistair's weapon. "Not tonight," he said, shoving her off of his lap and turning his attention to the broken pieces.

She walked back to the door of his shop, exiting as quietly as she had entered. Jolyon's hunger was not nearly satisfied yet but feeding more was a luxury he simply could not afford, not when the hunter would be back so soon. Part of him wanted to keep Josephine there with him. He wanted to fuck her until she screamed, to drink from her willing body, and all for Alistair to see. He wondered what the hunter's reaction would be if he found Josephine here, writhing in pleasure beneath him, begging him to drink deep. He imagined it would be a reaction of horror, but part of him wished to see jealousy painted across the hunter's features.

He took down the red cloth and hid it in his work bench before starting his work in order to keep his mind free from the hunter which tormented him. Jolyon took advantage of the night, bringing the metal outside and throwing it to the fires in order to melt it down. It was almost day when he was ready to bring it all back to his desk. He spent the entire day putting together a handsome timepiece out of the pieces. When he was done it was almost sun down again. He was exhausted and hungry (though no where near as hungry as he had been), but he sat back in his chair and admired the fine craftsmanship of the pocket watch as he waited for the Hunter to appear again.

Kveria · Jan 17, 2015

The quick nap he’d promised himself didn’t happen; it tended not to when a very hostile feline took up residence in one’s bed and refused to move, getting her hackles up and screaming whenever one reached toward them. Instead, Alistair spent the day washing laundry, scrubbing the bloodstains out of his clothes and patching up holes as best he knew how, along with throwing back cup after cup of Earl Gray to keep himself caffeinated and awake. By the time evening had rolled around, Alistair had completely cleaned his apartment which was something he’d been needing to do and just hadn’t had the time for, and for the first time in a little while he was able to sit down at his small table for a real meal consisting of a small steak, mashed potatoes, and a side of corn; he’d actually forgotten how good something like this could feel rather than just grabbing some cheese and a few slices of bread and heading out. There was nothing healthy about a couple eggs and a few slices of bacon when he returned home in the morning to sleep the day away, and completely skipping a meal. So, even though he was fighting to keep his eyes open most of the day, Alistair felt satisfied.

Eventually the kitten moved from her designated throne on his favourite pillow and he was able to lay down and stare at the ceiling. The row of three arched French windows along the wall where his bed was pushed into a corner allowed the room to be filled with late afternoon’s intense sunlight and he laid there soaking in the warmth that it brought. His mind wandered as he shut his eyes, covering them with the crook of his elbow, and in little time at all he was envisioning the Vampire whom he wished he could call his rival with confidence once more. It had been blatantly obvious from the start how Alistair had felt, and now he was faltering and filled to the brim with a sickly black lust which was threatening to spill over at any time if he wasn’t careful. It was a strange and unfamiliar feeling that he wasn’t quite sure how to tackle. He didn’t quite understand what had changed since they’d first met and how Jolyon had managed to get under his skin like this, but no matter how he tried to push it down and away, he couldn’t.

Uncovering his eyes, Alistair turned over on his side, his eyes tracing over the knots and grain on the wooden floor until it met the worn down reddish rug where his dining table sat, skipped around the outside edge of it and came upon the front door just next to his small kitchenette. Next to the door was a small rack for shoes to be placed on, but all that was left on it were a pair of old loafers; his boots were left next to the rack carelessly. There was a wooden coat tree next to that and an oak chest of drawers kitty corner to that. A mirror with a nickel-plated frame sat above it proudly; it was the most recent addition. Nothing was specifically matching, but he felt that it gave the home more of a personal appeal that no one else could understand. It was his; things he owned for himself, things that he had traded for his hard earned money. This was still something he was proud of, even after having left shelters behind almost five years ago. It made him feel accomplished, like he’d moved up in the world just for owning his own things and not relying on someone else to feed and shelter him.

It was just as he’d begun to revel in this feeling that he heard a tapping at his front door, which was kind of puzzling, but he tried to ignore it and rolled back onto his back to try and get a bit of rest that afternoon before visiting Jolyon again. God knows he could barely stand the Vampire while he was wide awake, so he couldn’t imagine what would happen if he had to face him in an irritated half-asleep state. Probably everything they’d built up in the last while would be completely annihilated, either that or Alistair would lose his inhibitions and make a move on the older man without much thought behind it. That was almost the last thing that he needed and— Hey, wait. He hushed his thoughts to focus on what was on the other side of the front door; for a minute he thought he was going crazy but after a while he was able to confirm it. He was definitely hearing voices. The disturbing thing was that Alistair’s apartment was the only one on this level and there was no one he knew who would visit him at all. He wasn’t sure even his family had the address, seeing as he hadn’t sent any letters or received anything from them in years. He didn’t have any close friends, and not really any enemies either; all he had was Jolyon, and there was no way he could be here in the middle of the day.

So then…?

His question was answered soon enough when the tapping on the door grew into a loud thumping, like someone pounding their fist with their entire strength behind it. The door shook, then the walls and the floor, and he could feel the vibrations through his mattress. Alistair sat up, shocked and unsettled and very confused, reaching for the rifle he kept under his bed, but for some reason he was unable to locate it. Suddenly the pounding stopped and he heard a muffled sentence, part of which was clearly, “Break it down.” No! No, they weren’t going to break his damned door down! Not on his fucking watch. He promptly stood and took his revolver off the table, going to fling the door open just before one of those Vampires tainted and overcome with bloodlust stumbled inside and fell sprawled all over his kitchen floor. There was rage bubbling up in his throat that he could barely contain, and he wanted to haul off on each of the numerous Vampires who were gathered at his door, all the way down the staircase and spilling out into the alley below. What… the bloody Hell? Pardon the pun. His eyes scanned the mob incredulously before sweeping back to the Vampire who was righting himself inside his home.

“What are you guys doing here?” He looked up; the sun was still blazing overhead, but these were all definitely Vampires just from the looks of them. “It’s the middle of the day.”

There was a collective silence for a moment before one of them took on the role of collective voice to speak for all of them. “Well, we offered Jolyon a cartload of virgins to eat in exchange for information on where to find you, so we’re planning on killing you.”

Well shit. He didn’t see that one coming, not at all. And there was nothing to do to stop them when there were that many enemies and he only had five bullets; he would eventually be overcome with them, and they’d bleed him dry. That was the most terrifying part. Funny thing was, he barely felt a thing. Then there was this white light and—

Before he could make a move either toward or away from it, he was swallowed from behind by a thick blackness; there was a pressure on his chest which made it difficult to breathe, so he did the only thing he could think of and sucked in as hard as he could. Fortunately, the sudden rising of his chest made the kitten scamper away, and when he sat up and opened his eyes, it took him a minute to register what had just happened. A dream…? He placed a hand over his chest to feel his erratic heartbeat and shook his head to clear the images. They were fuzzy now and fading quickly; he could only just barely make out any of the details, though the general outline was still vivid in his head. He remembered being eaten alive by a hoard of angry Vampires.

It took way too long to shake this one off; he occasionally had a bad nightmare like this—it wasn’t uncommon—but he usually came to his senses rather quickly and was able to forget it easily. This one refused to settle and left a bad taste in his mouth. Still, he’d slept rather late and despite the fact that he still felt like there was a haze hanging over his head, Alistair still hurried to find a box and poke holes in it so that he could carry the little demon kitten over without getting maimed. Jolyon was expecting him, and he didn’t like to keep people waiting as much as he hated to be kept waiting himself; that was just courtesy. When he left the house he found the streets more quiet than usual with no detectable activity at all, even on the tracker. It was just as disturbing as the feeling he’d been left with after he’d awoken. By the time Alistair finally reached Jolyon’s place and walked in, he was sweating. It wasn’t like him to be nervous or to believe in premonitions, but there was just this sickly feeling welling up in him; he didn’t like it.

“I hope you didn’t miss me much,” he stated sharply as he shut the door behind him and set the box on the table next to him. The air felt clearer in here and he heaved a sigh, his voice softening as he continued. “I got you this for payment; I didn’t know what else someone like you would value.” On cue, one of the cats on the floor wound its way through Alistair’s legs; he really wasn’t much of a cat person, so he frowned down at it, but made no move to shoo it away.

EverUndine · Jan 18, 2015

He could smell the sweat on Alistair and it was amazing how intoxicating that scent was. The vampire crossed the room in an instant and opened the box. The sweetest calico kitten looked up at him and he stuck his hands in the box, gathering the small bundle of fur into them and lifting it up. It may have not liked Alistair but it simply stared at Jolyon for a moment or two before it started to purr. Jolyon smiled down at the little kitten and walked over to his desk to set out a little bowl of cream for the kitten. "Not what I was expecting but it'll do," he stroked the kitten's back, "I think I'll name it Alice." He wondered if Alistair would be offended he wanted to name the kitten after him.

The Vampire retreived the flintlock he had promised the hunter and presented it to the man letting him grab it out of his hand. He let Alistair examine it, watched as he held it out to get a feel for it in his hand. He noticed the dark circles beneath the human's eyes. "You did not sleep," it was a simple observation. Jolyon kept his eyes on the kitten. He had noticed it the minute the man had walked in, he could see the anxiety in his face and could still smell that delicious, salty-sweet smell. "Is it because of your ruined weapon?" Jolyon reached into his pocket, brushing his fingers across the newly made pocket watch. He wondered if the man would accept a gift like this from him, it was not a part of their usual arrangement and he had never before given a gift to the man before. Alistair was always distant with Jolyon because of his vampirism, he wasn't even sure if Alistair liked pocket watches but it seemed the only thing he could make out of the salvaged pieces.

"I...I have something. For you. A gift, if you will." He pulled the watch from his pocket and placed it in the Hunter's hands, it was the most physical contact they had ever had save for the few playful touches Jolyon stole to irritate the young man. He put some distance between them by returning to his bench, petting Alice as he hid his face from Alistair. He did not want to see any disgust on the man's face, it so happens that he had put a lot of work into the watch and was not keen on being mocked for it. "It is all I could salvage from what you gave me last night, you seemed to have a personal attachment to the item."

He wasn't sure what it was about this particular young man. There was just this certain air of confidence and stubbornness that made his like him. And there were other things, subtler things. The smell of his skin, the color of his hair, the curve of his neck. The last person he had felt like this around... he wouldn't do that again. It had been a mistake to turn Ivan, he was not the the type of vampire to repeat his mistakes. He simply liked to be around Alistair, and that smell... the smell of Alistair's blood somehow seemed different than any other human's, it smelled...better, stronger.

He couldn't stop himself from moving behind the young man, from taking in a deep breath and savoring that delicious smell Alistair always brought into his place. "You smell so...good," he sighed as he brought cold, soft fingers to the back of his neck for a light touch. He felt the human stiffen beneath him, heard that wonderful symphony of a heart beating fast, pumping the life-giving liquid throughout the body. His mouth watered and he wanted so badly to sink his teeth right on the pulse point which thudded with every pump of his heart. He let his fingers linger a little long, wondering why he hadn't brushed him away just yet.

His fingers moved to rub a strand of Alistair's hair in between his fingers. It was smooth and like silk on his skin. "I've always liked your hair color. So unique, that touch of red." Jolyon's voice had dropped an octave, his lust for the Hunter palpable. He was dying to let his hands wander over this human body, he wanted to find the perfect spot to feed, the one that would make it a little more pleasurable for the young man. He decided to go out on a limb and make the Hunter an offer, "Just a little taste, I'll make it worth your while."

Kveria · Jan 19, 2015

Watching Jolyon pull a perfectly tame and purring kitten out of the box made Alistair click his tongue with annoyance; he wasn’t really jealous and he didn’t really like cats anyway, but there was just something about the Vampire being able to do something he couldn’t that pissed him off a little. Anyway, Alistair was a dog person—he’d always had dogs growing up, his family bred and raised dogs for cattle and sheep herding, and he’d even have one now if he had time to have a proper relationship with it. He’d thought about getting another puppy and training it to hunt Vampires with him, but what kind of life would that be for the dog? It was too stressful, strenuous, and dangerous. He wouldn’t take that risk.

“It had better do, that thing put me through enough misery— Alice?” Alistair noted that he was the namesake of the kitten right away and he narrowed his eyes though he wasn’t going to say anything for or against the moniker. He would brood bitterly about it, however, wondering why exactly Jolyon chose to give her that name, whether it was just because she was a gift from the hunter, or if there were a deeper meaning behind it. It was another one of those questions he would never breathe life to; he wouldn’t ask merely out of the desire to keep up that tough hunter front. He expected that his desire would be respected as it had been in the past, and that’s why he was almost shocked—almost—when Jolyon put the pocket watch into his hand. He’d been about to tell him that he had, in fact, slept… just not restfully when there was a weight in his hand and he had to look up from where he’d previously been avoiding looking at the Vampire by mentally tracing the grain on the floorboards. “A gift…?” He tasted the words, brought the watch closer to examine every careful little detail, opened it, checked the time, closed it, turned it over in his hands again…. It was warm. He wrapped his fingers around it and pressed it into his pocket while considering all the things he could say. In the end, he thought he’d chosen the most appropriate way to respond. “It’s nice. Thank you.”

It was after that, that Alistair thought he felt the atmosphere shift with some kind of tension. He wasn’t sure if he should say more, or how he could even repay Jolyon for the gift; even if he’d been told to consider it a gift, there was no denying that Alistair couldn’t just leave it like that. He felt obligated to do something in return, but he couldn’t think of anything besides offering himself up as a juice box for the older man, and that wasn’t exactly a bandwagon he was about to climb aboard. There were a lot of things he thought about concerning having his blood drawn for consumption. Did it hurt? Would he die? Most importantly, would he turn into a Vampire himself? A Hunter’s job wasn’t to know the mechanics of the Vampire, though it helped to have knowledge in its basest form—like when and how they fed, how often, as well as any dead giveaways to differentiate them from Humans. There were so many questions running through his mind that he wasn’t focused on Jolyon when he moved up behind him, pressing cold fingers to his neck. A chill ran down his spine and he inhaled sharply, tightening his jaw out of reflex.

He wondered what was wrong with him. He felt something sickening fill his body, heating it, and he couldn’t help but feel almost inclined toward it. It pooled in the pit of his stomach, sank lower and before he knew it he had let his eyes slip shut and was leaning back into Jolyon’s touch. He wanted to warm that cool undead body, wanted to feel more of Jolyon’s hands on his skin, wanted…. He wanted…. He took a breath in and held it while all these things swirled up inside him and he tried to hold them back as his hands clenched and unclenched into lose fists over and over again. What was he thinking? Was he thinking? Maybe not as much as he should have. Mostly, the pocket watch that was heavy in his vest pocket was on his mind when the words slipped, but also there was something much more primal behind it. His voice was low, husky, confirmation of the Vampire’s wishes filled his ears unpleasantly. “Just a little then.”

EverUndine · Jan 20, 2015

Jolyon hadn't ever expected to be granted permission. The words were sweet to his ears and he pressed his lips gently to the neck stretched before him. He intended to keep his promise to the Hunter, he told him he would make it worth his while and that was what he would do. Perhaps he could even entice the young man to repeat those words another time. Jolyon's slender hand sought purchase on the body in front of him, his left hand snaking around Alistair's broad shoulder and coming to rest on the man's throat as his right hand pushed beneath the fabric of the Hunter's shirt. His skin was warm and it made his cold hands feel as though they were burning. It was a strong feeling, though not unpleasant.

The vampire's black hair fell into his face as he placed his lips behind Alistair's ear. He wanted to take his time with this, to take whatever Alistair would allow him to take. The hand he had on the human's abdomen moved slowly across his skin, letting the tips of his fingers dip beneath the waistline of his pants before traveling back up to feel the subtle curves of his abdominal muscles. His fingers brushed over his navel and before coming to rest over his human heart. It was such a delicious rhythm.

"That sound...you've no idea what it does to me," his voice was low as he spilled his words over the skin of Alistair's neck, "yours is different from the others. I don't know what it is... And it's not just that. The way you smell, so alluring, as if it were specifically designed to make my mouth water, to make you that much more enticing." His mouth found that pulse point and he let his tongue press against that spot. He could barely stand it anymore, the blood in Alistair's veins were singing to him and he could no longer resist. His elongated canines pierced through the warm flesh and a low moan reverberated against human skin.

Jolyon's head swam with lustful thoughts: of Alistair, naked and beneath him, of drinking from him whenever he wanted. That coppery, sweet red liquid filled his mouth and he swallowed, once, twice, three times. He pulled his teeth out of the man, lapping up the last bit of blood. It was an experience he'd never had before, this young man's blood tasted different. It was stronger, sweeter, it coursed through him like a drug and he couldn't help but to want more. But he wouldn't overstep his boundaries. He would show the Hunter that he was not the mindless animal he was used to dealing with. He had some semblance of self-control, at least he normally did.

Kveria · Jan 22, 2015

By saying yes, Alistair had left himself wide open to all his fears and unknowns. He’d thrown down his shield in the middle of battle and allowed the enemy to just take him without a second thought. He felt that he’d committed moral suicide by allowing this and the heat that spread over his entire body as Jolyon touched him didn’t make it seem any better. It was a pleasant warmth, however, and he couldn’t help but relax into it as it filled him with an airy, heady feeling. That was when he felt it—the penetration of the flesh on his neck by two razor sharp fangs—and winced as it brought him back from alabaster fantasy into a charcoal reality. He’d prepared himself for the worst. Things like anaemia and perhaps losing his life to become a Vampire, because that was how the curse was transferred, right? Through biting. The last worry on his mind was complete and total death—he would rather die than become one of the things he hated with a lusty passion.

But it barely lasted and the retraction of Jolyon’s elongated canines left him with a sort of icy feeling. It took him a moment to process the feeling of loss and attribute it to the fact that he was no longer physically connected to the older Vampire and not at all from the mere three mouthfuls he’d taken from Alistair’s circulatory system. Without thinking about it, he fairly spat out the words, “That’s it?” accompanied by a very dumbfounded tone in his voice. He reached up, fingering the entrance wound gingerly; it was a little tender, but it wasn’t even bleeding anymore. How did he…? Alistair turned to face Jolyon, his eyebrows knitted in confusion rather than anger or frustration as they normally were.

He didn’t say anything as he picked his words carefully, let his eyes find Jolyon’s without faltering. “So I’m not going to turn into a Vampire?” It was blunt and direct, and the Hunter’s naïveté on the subject was leaking out through every seam. This seemed like a good enough time to ask questions, and probably the best if Alistair had any say in it. He had millions more that were swimming around, awoken by this new development. It wasn’t that he suddenly cared, it was just that…. He felt like he wanted to know more about Jolyon, who he was and what made him tick; what made his race tick, how they worked. After all—and this was still kind of an abstract thought in Alistair’s mind—part of him was now a part of Jolyon. For some reason that made him feel… closer. He wanted to be closer, anyway.

After another long moment, Alistair broke eye contact. There was something else he was curious about. His honey-coloured eyes rested on Jolyon’s perfect mouth—the one he’d lately been craving, that he’d wanted to claim. He voiced his thoughts aloud, in a hushed but audible voice meant only for himself and the inventor. “What does it taste like? If it were just you, I wouldn’t mind finding out….” His heart was pounding in his ears and his hands were reaching out to find something to grab onto, while he leaned in, just wanting to find that addictive heat one more time.

EverUndine · Jan 23, 2015

Jolyon groaned as he licked his lips, savoring the flavor of the young hunter on them. The man's reaction was not what he had expected it would be but it was endearing. "That's it," he still wanted Alistair, "I could have had more...I didn't want to scare you." He was feeling still distracted by the beating of that human heart, the smell of the man's blood permeated the room and made Jolyon feel drunk and happy. He couldn't contain his laughter as the question poured from Alistair's mouth. "No, you wont be like me from just that. You have to drink from me," he let his hand brush over the hunter's cheek affectionately.

His fingers traced the jawline of the man before him and the man broke eye contact with him. He removed his hand, wondering if he had offended the human, but the vampire was very pleasantly surprised when he heard the words coming from the hunter. Those words made his pupils grow and he could feel the space between them grow smaller as he felt that wonderful heat from Alistair's body. He took in a deep breath before taking the Hunter's face in his hand and pressing vampiric lips to human lips. He knew the hunter could taste that faint, coppery taste of his own blood on him and wondered how in the world they had arrived at this point. He wasn't complaining, far from it, he had dreamt of this before, never before knowing it would ever come to fruition.

He let his hands roam over the warm body in his arms, pushing fingertips below the waistline of his pants, he wanted so badly to strip the man before him. He wanted to rip the cloth from his body and to fuck him into the ground as he tasted him again. He wanted to listen to the moans and mewls he would pull from those soft lips. He hadn't known that this self-proclaimed 'Vampire Hunter' knew little about the beasts he hunted. He knew how to kill them and this made Jolyon so determined to bring this man pleasure. He wanted it to be a vampire who made this man quake with pleasure.

"May I?" His fingers played across the hipbones, asking permission to take that next step. He wanted to do very bad things to this man, but he also wanted this man to want him to do very bad things to him. His lips found the place he had bitten into him, he tongued the fresh wounds. His canines were aching, his cock growing harder with every moment this young human was pressed against him. That scent was overwhelming him and he let out a low moan and pushed a hand through the copper-brown silk on Alistair's head.

Kveria · Jan 24, 2015

There it was again. That heat that spread addictively throughout the Hunter’s body and made him crave more, brought on by searing cold lips pressed against his own. He could feel the Vampire’s hands on him, seemingly everywhere at once, blazing a trail of ice through the fire and that alone made jolts of electricity jump through his neural system and pool in the most sensitive parts of his body. He didn’t want to admit to the ache that wanted nothing more than primal satisfaction for the one that was nearly begging to be released from its constrictive holds. His hands found their way to Jolyon’s body, ghosting over his still much too clothed body while he savoured the sensation of Jolyon’s fingers playing with the sensitive skin near his hipbones and his tongue on his neck, bringing a light sigh from between the Hunter’s lips.

It was difficult for the Hunter to drop his pride through all this even though he’d been the one to initiate it. It probably wouldn’t have been happening if he hadn’t allowed himself to lean back in like that, searching for something that only Jolyon had thus far given him. No, this was not the first time he’d had sex though he had never done anything like this with a man before; he’d courted a girl for a while before she was given a much better offer and dropped him completely. She was… wild, to say the least. But her lust had taken over to the point where she was sloppy and begged for it just about where ever they went, several times a day. It was too much for Alistair and it grew increasingly worse. He wasn’t going to stay with her as his frustration with her mounted—she wanted to spend every waking hour with him, made him late for work, sometimes she’d visit him while he was working…. It was a long time ago, before the debt had been paid off. He suspected that the man she’d run off who promised to be able to satisfy her nymphomaniac lust had probably sold her into the sex trade, and maybe she was just fine with that. Alistair couldn’t care much either way.

He brought one hand back to slip the button on his pants from its catch wordlessly, feeling that was all the incentive he needed to give. When he focused through the fog that was already beginning to build in his mind, he could see clearly that Jolyon wanted this just as much as he did, and he wondered if there was as much shame in it as he thought. Alistair had been raised right, and they were neither courting nor married and maybe that was what sat a little funny about this situation with the Hunter. He could tell himself it was just this one time, but would it be? Would they walk away from this not wanting more? Alistair thought back to that woman, and he wasn’t certain that he wouldn’t become some kind of cock-craving slut just like her. It filled him with an uncertainty that overtook the heat and he hesitated just for a split second. Even if he stopped now, he knew he would continue to want this and it would haunt him as it had been for the last few weeks now. With that in mind, he reached up to slip his hand around the back of Jolyon’s head, fingers threading into his hair where he gripped and held, leaning back in for another kiss, this one deeper and lustier. In comparison, the other was innocent. With this kiss, Alistair pressed in, biting down on Jolyon’s bottom lip to demand entrance.

Yeah, that felt right. There was no reason why he had to sit back and just allow Jolyon to take over. He could relax into this, battle playfully, and when the time came for it he would allow Jolyon to satisfy that ache; it was true that Jolyon wanted this just as much, right? And in Alistair’s mind that meant some kind of exclusivity. It made this marginally more okay, but maybe it was the dirty taboo nature of this entire act that made it desirable. He tried not to think too much about it, and just let this go where it would. For now, he’d play along and allow Jolyon to lead just a little bit, until he could be completely comfortable doing it on his own.

EverUndine · Jan 27, 2015

The sigh he had pulled from the Hunter's lips was a soft, content sound and Jolyon felt a thrill surge through his body. He had never heard a sound like that come from Alistair and he was eager to hear it again. It was the sound of the button coming loose that made his breath hitch ever so slightly. This was a dream, a dream he had had several times and he would be waking up very soon. He could feel it in the other's hesitant body language, this was it. This was when he would wake up. And then there was a hand on the back of his head, searing the flesh there with that scalding touch as Alistair's lips pressed against his with a different kind of hunger.

Those teeth bit down on Jolyon's bottom lip and he gasped in a heady mixture of surprise and lust. The taste of the Hunter was sweet and he hadn't felt like this since...no, he wouldn't think of the past now. Not when he had such a warm and willing man here in the present. He shed his jacket, letting it pool behind him, and wrapped cool and sturdy arms around Alistair, pulling him closer. He could feel the heat of that living body through his shirt, he could feel the thudding of that heart as his thumbs settled themselves against that burning heat that was Alistair's hips.

He could barely control himself, he wanted Alistair, wanted him badly. Keeping his arm around Alistair's waist, he backed up to his desk, crossing the room in literal seconds. He grabbed one of Alistair's arms and pushed the sleeve up revealing those intricate blue veins. Jolyon held the arm up, and let his lips rest against the inside of Alistair's elbow, a slight warning before he bit down as gently as he possibly could. His eyes closed as he delighted in the taste of Alistair's blood again. This only confirmed that special allure, there was something different about the Hunter for Jolyon that was a certainty.

He swallowed languidly, drinking only twice this time and stopping himself before he made the man dizzy. He released the arm with a ragged breath and let his eyes drift over the man before him, settling on those lust-filled eyes. His left hand snaked past the undone button on the Hunter's trousers and his cold fingers settled on that aching, hard flesh. Alistair's hard length felt like fire against his skin and he let his fingers gently brush along that length. "Tell me what you want and I will give it to you," the deep, gravelly sound of his own voice surprised him, "I would give you anything you wished for." And it was true, somehow Jolyon felt consumed by Alistair, swallowed whole by a yearning and an intangible need for the young man. He wanted to keep him.

Kveria · Jan 29, 2015

He felt frenzied; from Jolyon’s hands wandering his body, the taste of his innermost fluid in Jolyon’s mouth, being pressed up against the desk, all the way up to the second bite—it seemed like things were happening in slow motion, though they didn’t seem to last quite long enough, and while his brain felt fuzzy and out of focus, his mind transmitted things in brilliant, vibrant detail. Everything further intoxicated him and sent him reeling; it was to the point where he felt no pain when Jolyon bit down on his arm, only a whitewash of crippling pleasure which nearly buckled his knees and left him temporarily unable to breathe. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back and felt himself grinding against Jolyon’s skillful hand as his body begged for release. Something bubbled up in his chest and surged up to become a lump in his throat that he desperately tried to swallow. If he let it go, no doubt it would have been something he didn’t want anyone to hear, let alone Jolyon, under any circumstances. He had to release sometime though, and when he allowed himself to exhale, his breath came out in pants and his face flushed with humiliation.

No, he had to find a way to make up for this. He felt like all his earlier willpower had been zapped away, but he still wanted to keep some kind of hand in this game, even if it wasn’t the upper hand; at the rate he was going, he was going to give up and submit fully, because no doubt he had no grounds to fight back when Jolyon had turned him to jelly with only a few well-placed touches and an addictive syrupy glaze in his voice. If he’d been worried about there being something wrong with him for wanting this earlier, there wasn’t a speck of that thinking now; it had come down to fucking the traditions and the rules because this felt right and it was what he wanted. That was all there was to it. So when Jolyon requested that Alistair tell him what exactly it was that he wanted, the only hesitation was overcoming his own embarrassment and finding his ability to speak properly where it was buried under a deep, weeks old pile of as yet unfulfilled bodily lust.

Finding his voice was the easy part despite this. It was summoning up the balls to speak that was the problem. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he pressed his hips into Jolyon’s hand one more time to affirm this. He could feel it, his length was already rock hard and dripping precum; he couldn’t back out now to save what was left of his pride as a Hunter and a man if he wanted to. It was just going to result in a stabbing all-over pain that he would never be able to satiate with his own right hook. There was no way. Even if he did manage to bring himself to climax, there would always be that ache inside that he would never be able to reach no matter how hard he tried. This was something different, something that hands couldn’t satisfy. He couldn’t do it without Jolyon… he couldn’t do anything without Jolyon. The Vampire was always there when Alistair needed him and what had he done in return? No, it was high time he gave Jolyon the payback he deserved, in one way or another. That sick feeling he’d felt so many times before rose in his throat as his fingers wrapped around Jolyon’s wrist, wanting so badly to pull his hand off the Hunter’s dripping nethers, but not finding the strength.

“Forget about me,” he started, his voice strained and almost weak. His fingers brushed the inside of Jolyon’s wrist, feeling the silk smooth skin in all its pale white perfection. He did finally manage to tug the hand away, reluctant as he was to lose that stimulation. Anyway, he probably wouldn’t have lasted much longer with those fingers wrapped all around him just perfectly like that; he was going to have to stop Jolyon sooner or later. Presently, he kissed each of Jolyon’s fingers, refusing to make eye contact as he continued on, bathing the sticky clear liquid from the hand that had only been warmed by contact with the hottest part of the Hunter’s body. “I want… to do something for you. What can I do to make you feel good?” Around the end, his voice dropped, he lowered his head to avoid eye contact at all cost, and his once firm grip on the Vampire’s wrist slackened. He was showing his inexperience and he felt small. He didn’t particularly care for this new feeling whatsoever, and he wanted desperately to go back to how it was with Jolyon’s hand on his organ. He wanted to be selfish and have everything for himself…. But this was just the right thing to do. It was supposed to be give and take, not just take. He had to step up and be a part of this, rather than just be a living sex doll. He couldn’t let himself lose any semblance of humanity, even if he were to lose his pride.

EverUndine · Feb 7, 2015

The short, quick breaths Alistair let out was like a symphony to Jolyon. He was so distracted by it that he almost missed the movement of the man before him. He was more than surprised as the hunter wrapped those heated fingers around his wrist and pulled his hand away. At first he was worried, did the young man change his mind? The vampire hummed as the man's fingers brushed over the inside of his wrist, even the smallest amount of contact he found incredibly pleasing. The grip the man had on his wrist grew less strong and he watched shame heat up those cheeks. He could smell how those capillaries opened up and he let out a soft sigh. How could such a beautiful man be so frustrating?

This is not what he wanted. He wanted Alistair to want this as badly as he did. Right now? It seemed he was ashamed of his want. He brought his cold fingers to Alistair's face, thumb on his chin, tipping the man's face so that he was looking him in the eyes yet again. He couldn't deny that the man's words stirred something in him, made him want to take him fast and rough. "You want to do something for me?" He couldn't help the small smile that came over his lips and he pressed them to Alistair's. It was different this time, not rushed or urgent but softer, sweeter. He'd wanted the hunter for a while and, while he felt an urgent need to press him against the desk and take him, he was not looking to ruin the possibility of this occurring again.

He pulled the man closer, "You want to make me feel good? Let me have you." His hands pushed under the hem of Alistair's shirt to press them against the warm skin on his back. "I want to push you up against my desk and take you, I want to hear my name on your lips, I want you to offer yourself to me, to let me drink from you." He punctuated every sentence with a kiss along the curve of Alistair's neck, leading up to his ear. "But I want to know what you want."

He felt more for this man than just lust. It was a strange, almost otherworldly pull he felt for the human. He tugged at the hem of the shirt, pulling it over Alistair's head to finally bear that smooth expanse of skin. "Why do you think I've given you what I have?" His hands wandered over the body before him, enjoying the quickening of that human heart-beat. "I could have disappeared the moment you left after our first meeting. I could have followed you home and drank you dry. But I hung around." Jolyon groaned against the hunter's shoulder. "Now," his voice was firmer, almost scolding, "tell me what you want, Alistair."

He was still hungry. Starving for blood, more specifically, Alistair's blood. He would have to feed again tonight. He might even have to call on Josephine. It wasn't an idea he was fond of, not now that he had Alistair here, under his hands, taste of his blood lingering in his mouth. He would prefer to have more of the hunter, but he didn't want to frighten or hurt him and that was certainly a possibility. He could drain him if he wasn't careful and he didn't want that, not at all. It wasn't just the man's blood that called to the vampire, but something inside as well. The soul, maybe, if souls truly existed.

Kveria · Feb 10, 2015

In more ways than one, he felt defeated. He wanted this badly, and Jolyon’s mouth on his heated skin was making it entirely too difficult to stick to his original goal of keeping his head and at least one hand in the game. Was it wrong to think of this as a game? Alistair wasn’t entirely certain of that yet; either way he was was certain that it was time to give in to his more primal instincts and urges. No matter what he thought he wanted, his body was craving something much different; it was completely opposed to the idea of Alistair doing anything but baring himself to Jolyon in all its glorious entirety, to show off the firm body and the strong arms. In his head, he felt exposed now with his shirt discarded and the cold swept in to chill him briefly before Jolyon’s voice—which he found slightly condescending—brought that heat back in full swing. He didn’t particularly like being talked to as if this was a privilege to be in Jolyon’s company physically. Normally he’d voice his distaste, but he couldn’t find it inside to do it this time.

It was that mouth on his skin, making it all too impossible to think or breathe or really do much of anything but grip onto the edge of the desk, close his eyes and make some kind of sad attempt at holding back a groan. “Fine,” he fairly hissed, removing one hand from its white-knuckled grip and placing it at the back of Jolyon’s head, fingers lacing into the obsidian-coloured hair as he pulled back. He needed to take the time to catch his breath, clear his head and find the rest of his speech. It didn’t take long for him to regroup—being a Hunter made it habitually easy to recover from these sorts of circumstances, and for that he was more thankful than he’d ever been in a long while. Once he’d steadied himself, the hand in Jolyon’s hair brought the Vampire closer so that they could brush lips once more; Alistair couldn’t exactly place the feeling, but it was this sort of welling, blissful perfection that spread out over the top of his chest and made it difficult to breathe once more. “I….” He started, feeling the weight on his chest increase phenomenally as he tried to find the words.

It was harder than he’d originally anticipated, and pride wasn’t even a part of the equation now. Could he even say he was properly embarrassed now that he stood there stark naked in front of Jolyon, engaging in these things that had only ever haunted him in dreams, never considered possible to come to fruition? He had nothing to hide and it was obvious that the Vampire wanted him just as much. It didn’t stop Alistair from thinking about what was going to happen tomorrow, or the day after. If he spoke now and let his bodily desire take over, how was he going to pay for it in the future? Alistair was far from being a worrier; he just considered this perfectly normal paranoia, the mind’s way of preparing itself for anything. There was nothing wrong with it at the worst of times…. He could admit that he was a little annoyed with himself at the moment, however. He had already seen disappointment at his hesitation on Jolyon once—he didn’t want to see it again.

“I want….” That didn’t make it any easier, though. He leaned in to force the words out into Jolyon’s ear, his voice husky with the reduced volume and coarse with need. “I want you inside; it’s driving me crazy, and I want you.” It felt relieving to say these things out loud, bring them to realisation and make them existence just like all the rest of this, which he felt was being drawn deep out of his shoddily locked away subconscious. The anticipation itself of finally getting what he’d been craving all this time made his cock twitch and his eyes travelled down Jolyon’s alabaster frame, wetting his lips as he did so. He wanted to emphasize his desires, gave Jolyon something that he probably never thought he would, and never would again, hear leave the Hunter’s lips. “Please.”

EverUndine · Feb 11, 2015

It was the 'please' that set him off. Gods, this man, he'd never wanted anyone so badly. He reached around the hunter with one arm and pushed everything on the desk onto the floor. Bringing a hand up to cup Alistair's face, he kissed him gently before pushing him back onto the desk. Jolyon's hand grasped at the hunter's cock once again, he reveled in the sounds the human made beneath him. His mind had one thing occupying it: Alistair. The hunter was driving him mad with want but he had to made sure he had control of himself, he would not hurt him in any way.

He reached over, tugging a drawer open to dip his hands into the jar of hand oil he had. Usually he used it to oil his hands when working with the fires, it kept his hands from getting dry, but it would certainly do for this. Jolyon pushed Alistair onto his back and brought his lips to the firm muscular chest. He wanted to bite him again, to drink until he felt sated, but he resisted the urge. Instead he dipped two fingers into the jar before bringing them back between the hunter's legs and pushing gently against that tight entrance. The vampire pushed past that ring of muscle and he couldn't keep in the groan inside of him. "Alistair," the name tumbled over his lips without his consent, and he realized that he wasn't even sure if he had called the hunter by his name, not aloud anyway.

The lust was driving the irish lilt back into his voice as he muttered words of praise against the younger man's skin. He took his time with Alistair, spinning his finger around, searching for the spot within the hunter that he knew would make the man squirm. "Gle mhaith," Jolyon rumbled in gaelic, the old language coming back to him like it was yesterday. "Ta tu go halainn," his free hand pushed through Alistair's hair and traced his jaw line before pressing his lips to the human's. He slipped a second finger into the hunter's impossibly tight passage. "An bhfuil pian ort?" He pulled away to hear the answer to his question when he realized he hadn't asked it in english, "Is there pain?" He wanted Alistair to enjoy this as much as he was.

He crooked his fingers and was rewarded with a soft moan, a sign he had found that perfect spot. He brushed over it again and again, watching Alistair intently, gaining pleasure from simply observing. He couldn't help himself anymore, his teeth found a spot on Alistair's chest and they sank into that warm skin. He took a few more gulps before pulling away again, the blood on his lips making him feel hazy, under the influence. He groaned and words fell from his lips without his control, "Mo anam cara." He only realized what he had said afterward, realizing that it must be true. It would explain the strange and unknowable attraction he felt for Alistair, why everything about the young man felt so different. He only hoped that Alistair wouldn't know what the words meant.

Love Is War { Kveria | EverUndine }

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