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It’s late as you enter the ballroom, where already there is shine and humming beneath pale golden lights, and so many people.
Vampires, all of them.
“That’s a large crowd,” you add, biting your lip at the unfiltered thought.
Adrian looks down at you briefly, smiling. “We’ll navigate it together,” he says, and in comfort, presses his fingers over your hand when it digs into his arm. “But we can still turn back, if you want that. I can do this on my own. The ceremony is really mainly for show.”
“Aren’t they all?” you mumble. You want to take the offered lifeline, as being surrounded by a slew of powerful beings for the first time does sound daunting but... But, another side of you finally wants to come out of hiding. If you’ll be spending more time with their knowledge, you want them to see you as their peer, or foolishly hope they could. Whatever that means to them. And if you fail, at least you won’t regret not trying.
“Let’s go,” you say, taking a step forward and then you’re entering the hall washed in rouge and gold, smelling of incense and heavy hyacinth.
The invitees look both lively and alive in their mirth, an illusion cast about their presence, and one would never guess they are anything other than merry revelers gathered together from all corners of the globe.
“Adrian! Adrian, it is you, I cannot believe it!”
The words have you turning your head towards a tall figure of soft grace gliding over to reach you. Adrian ceases walking, and you inch closer to his side.
“Faena,” Adrian says, turning and smiling.
You do a double take at the first-name-basis. Faena?!
“How are you? I haven’t seen a whiff of you in what feels like years.”
“... you actually have not seen me in years, Faena.”
You’re standing there and gaping at them as they exchange pleasantries, both shining and youthful and eternal, wondering all the while who this is and why her hand is on his arm for the entire duration of this exchange.
Damnable heart, you’re so petty.
“... and who… is this? A human, Adrian?”
You nearly miss the question, but look to find a pair of red-tinted irises assessing you. You tilt your chin upward.
“Correct,” Adrian says, a hand long settled around your hip.
Faena flicks her bejeweled wrist, her flawless skin puckering in places as she grimaces. “I see. Do you own her?”
What?!
But then again, what did you expect? No really, what?
The change in Adrian’s voice has you peeking up at his face; the warmth in his features has gone cold. “Nobody owns her. She is here of her own free will, as my partner.”
The vampire looks at you anew, a beautiful raven-dark eyebrow raised, perfect lips pursing in assessment as though a gold nugget were revealed to her in a pile of waste.
You’ve seen, heard, and listened to vampires for long enough to guess with some accuracy as to the meaning behind his words: ... and under my protection. You do your best to keep the physical proof of your unease at bay as you’ve learned to do around them for a while now (expression, heartbeat, posture). You’re not very good at it, you think. Adrian helped you practice, to give you a chance in keeping a shred of your thoughts and feelings your own.
“My apologies,” Faena says finally even as she leans in, and without another glance your way, kisses Adrian on the cheek. “Your father’s son, after all.” Her long, garnet earrings sparkle as she turns her head towards the entrance hall, where new guests are being admitted. “Excuse me, I see the Styrian sisters over there. Carmilla looks upset, which is always amusing. I leave you now, mind yourself tonight Adrian, you and your...” she waves a hand carelessly as she turns away “... human.”
You watch Faena melt, a graceful shadow slithering among the glittering, amorphous mass of underworld.
“Not all of them are this way, I promise.”
“No,” you say, wanting to believe him. “I suppose not.”
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More of similar meetings follow. Most guests seem to know Adrian or at least know of him—not surprising. For you, however, the awkwardness continues. And you try, you really do; but soon it becomes clear just how different this is compared to whatever it was you’d hoped.
You watch him on that elevated platform, bowing to the Lady of this estate, a public expression of alliance in the face of leaderless covens running amok and savaging the lands. He brings a hand to his chest and speaks words in a language unknown, but you know it’s a part of him just as much as his human heart is. Adrian looks your way, briefly—or you think he does. You’re overrun with a need to be away from here, from the stares and side-eyed judgment of these people, away from seeing him so much in his element where you never will be.
After five more minutes of listening to the words exchanged, you give in to the urge: retreat.
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You reach your chamber with little issue—somehow, apparently, other vampires knew how to make their abodes navigable, you think sulkily. You kick off your slippers once inside, breathing easier in solitude. Attempts at sleep fail, and an hour later finds you pacing around the room, checking a book or other, gazing out the window, repeat.
Late, you hear the creak of hinges, the closing of a door; the call of your name.
“I’m here, Adrian,” you say, currently turned to the window. The mountains are white-capped, shining like liquid mercury under moonlight. You feel his presence, know he’s staring at you though you’re looking away, arms crossed around your middle.
Oh, it might be one of those evenings. Arguing. Throwing hands. Adjusting to each other’s expectations again and again, for—
You can’t complete that thought as Adrian throws his gloves onto a tea table. “You disappeared,” he says. There’s something in his voice you can’t quite trace. Worry? That’s expected, though you realize you hadn’t given it a thought at the time; not one of your best moments. “It’s good I thought to search here after picking through the entire ballroom.”
“I’m sorry,” you murmur, closing your eyes. Clearly, not one of your best moments. You feel that tiny, growing weight that is guilt pressing down on you.
A sigh. The barely audible sound of footsteps drawing near. A warm hand wraps slowly but firmly around your arm, and you’re being hedged to turn around.
Adrian looks you in the eye, seeking, wondering; he smells of incense and wine, and his cheeks are flushed. “Did something happen?”
“No,” you shake your head. “I’m sorry.”
“Please stop saying that.”
You look up at him, the sharper tone a surprise—not a good one, at that. “What do you want me to say?”
“I,” he frowns, sways slightly but just barely; you wonder if you imagined it. “I am merely asking about the matter, the real matter, with you.”
You look away, shrug out of his hold. “Why dwell on it? I told you nothing happened. We’re leaving tomorrow, we—I—survived the strangest event I’ve ever been to, you seemed to enjoy yourself, and no one fed on me, so what is the problem?”
His expression changes into one of… hurt, and the renewed remorse you feel is like a choking fist.
“Was this your thought when you left without a word? Leaving me to search for you in the crowd, worrying and angrier by the minute?”
“You said I was safe.”
Adrian pauses, lips parted, baring his teeth in what can only be annoyance. “That is not the point.” His eyes narrow. “Are you upset with me about something? Something I’ve done?”
“No!” you cry, and can’t help but reach for him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You did nothing wrong. It… it’s something I need to get over. Adrian I—” you mellow at the concern on his features. “I’m embarrassed to tell you, it’s… it’s so petty, really.”
“Try me,” he turns away, removes his black cape, then wraps an arm around your waist, leading you to sit on the edge of the bed facing each other.
You make a sound that’s something between a grunt and a groan, staring at how his wine-dark tunic bares his flushed chest, the soft skin cradling you at night. “You’re so beautiful.”
The corner of a smile. “Thank you,” he runs a hand down your arm, “We make a magnificent pair.”
You roll your eyes. “... and everyone was so… interested in you, all those gorgeous immortals and this society is so different to what I know but I try, I want them to see me as more than prey, I just… I couldn’t stay there any longer. And, that Faena…” you trail away. “So I left. I know it was selfish to walk off through the foreign vampire castle without telling you. I see that. Again, I’m sorry.”
What Adrian does next surprises you: his hand reaches to the nape of your neck, and bringing you in, he slants his mouth over yours.
You freeze at the suddenness of it, but melt almost instantly and just as you’re craving more, he slowly breaks away. You’d very much like to know what is happening, begging him with your eyes.
“Faena,” Adrian smiles, “was my governess. Well, one of them. She was also my trainer in specific types of combat during my brief adolescence. She has her moments, but would not cross a line. And she wanted to eat of you; badly.”
You groan, covering your face with your palms. “... can the dungeons open up and swallow me whole now, please?”
You’re drawn closer as Adrian moves up onto the bed, pulling you into his lap. “I think it’s sweet,” he says, dragging his nose along your throat; he feels warm and hard against you, and you grip onto him as tightly as you’d wanted to all evening. “But I’m sorry you felt that way,” he says, unceremoniously pushing on your shoulder to lead you on your back. “I’ll do all I can to support you,” he says. His eyes convey something completely different to his words, and you can’t ask anyway between the nips and bites, and his hands covetously grasping your body. “Trust me?”
You sigh when he cups a breast, feeling it in his palm, bringing his lips over the nipple and breathing hot air through the thinness of your dress. “I do trust you.” You arch your hips up into him.
Adrian looks down at you, running his thumbs along your jaw. “Here you were too busy thinking this, that you didn’t notice everyone else staring at you,” he growls into your chest, and the vibration runs down between your legs, tingles through your clit. “... wanting to either eat you or fuck you or both,” he follows, and you’ve never heard him speak this way—
“How drunk are you, exactly?” you ask with a whiff of bemusement through your abject adoration. Then, “... wait, really?” You process his latter words.
“Drunk enough,” Adrian murmurs, pressing his cheek to one tit, nosing at it. “... but that doesn’t account for this. And yes,” his voice is lower, has a slur that gives his timbre an ever alluring warmth. “None of them could approach, only because you’re mine.”
“I thought no one owned me,” you deadpan, hands running up his strong back, fingers digging into his shoulder blades.
Adrian scoffs against you, then raises his head. “You know I speak not of your personal freedom.”
He’s watching you so intently your barb dies on your tongue. “I know—mmm,” you sigh when he sucks on your lower lip. “You were… splendid up there. Regal… it suits you.”
Adrian snorts a giggle into you. “Yes… and do you know what I was thinking all the while? While I said the words?” his mouth finds your neck, and a soft bite, a graze, has you trembling.
“... do you actually…” you pause as his hands flex, fingers digging into your thighs. “What?”
“I thought of you,” his hands reach under your dress, lifting the folds and this time when he presses you against him you feel all of him. “Of having you, somewhere in this damn castle,” another nip, a lick at the curve of your neck as you melt and wonder if you heard wrong. “Remember that time in the woods?” he breathes, eyelashes fluttering sweetly.
How could you forget? The mere memory of it has you soaking wet. “... yes?”
“Like that,” he says, and you feel his smile, the curve of those soft lips on your skin, his hot, careful touch up your back and tracking your spine until he cups the back of your head. “It’s you, and I,” he gets to say as you hungrily begin kissing him back, all fears forgotten as Adrian repeats, “You and I…” he brings two fingers to your mouth; you lick them, suck on them, staring into the flare of his eyes as he drinks you in.
Adrian hastily withdraws his fingers and rises, taking you with him and the world is spinning; you end snugly in his lap at the edge of the bed, settled with your legs grasping his thigh. This isn’t how you expected the evening to go, but you’re not one to complain here. Your mind gives way to sensation so easily with him, you think through that stubborn need as Adrian works to unlace your underclothes but pauses as though struck, looking up at you. “Do you want me to stop?”
“Are you teasing now?”
He snorts. “I am asking, beastling. Whatever you wish.”
“Fine, then I don’t want you to stop,” you say, breathless, gazing into his now smiling eyes. “I want… I want you to hurt me.”
The smooth lines of his face change, nostrils flaring, features sculpted in amber from the golden candlelight. “Brave, little beast,” he reaches down, cups your mound; you squirm, hiding your nose in his shoulder. His other hand grasps your chin, tilting so you’re looking him in the eye. “Never disappear like that, ever again. I would’ve caused an incident to find you. I would have dealt death to find you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” you sigh and tremble, and Adrian’s really, really not the impulsive type. And something about the way he grips you has you meaning it too.
Adrian seems satisfied, kissing your forehead, his fingers still busy tracing along your silk-covered slit. “Shift your hips,” he says, and you do, feeling him guide you slowly back and forth onto his thigh. “You want me to hurt you,” he murmurs, gasping as your hand cups his hard cock, shapely through the soft material of his trousers. That, you want that.
“No… not so,” he grins, the fiend, pushing your hand gently away though he unbuttons his trousers, and you can only stare at the cock in his hand as he strokes it. “Move for me, will you move for me?” he licks the skin between your breasts before sucking on each, settling on one to nibble and tease, grasping your ass as you try to do what he asks: rubbing against his clothed thigh, feeling the sweet pressure building at each brief contact with that small bundle of nerves.
“I’ll… mess up your clothes…” you moan, but your hips keep gyrating, it feels too good to stop.
“I don’t care,” Adrian growls, and you get wetter watching him pump his own cock, that hot tasty cock in those beautiful hands, staring at you as you fuck yourself on him, timing his strokes with the shift of your hips.
You end with your face hidden against his neck, licking at his Adam’s apple as you move and watch and listen to him moan, as you reach and plunge two fingers into your cunt and desperately thrust. “Oh god Adrian please, I can’t, it’s not enough, please…” you cry into him—and are promptly tilted over onto your back, relieved as you feel his weight over yours; you both moan as he sinks into you, and it takes a mere three thrusts to have you creaming around the base of his cock.
“Fuck…” he feels it just as you do, and in your frenzy you’re both impatient, pulling and grasping at each other as he holds you down and each timed plunge pushes and pushes and floods your cunt with pleasure, the delicious feeling of the head slicking repeatedly inside. “You… are… perfect…”
You squeeze around him, gratified when he curses again and goes faster; and you? You’re riding a continuous high commanded by his hips snapping into yours, by the licks and kisses, of ramming into you so hard your head hits the wooden headboard as he suddenly pulls out and spurts warm cum all over your abdomen.
You both pant, then laugh with him still hovering above you, licking into your mouth and falling to the side, dragging you to him.
“What… just happened…” you feel up his shirt, realizing neither of you took your clothes off. You curl a leg over him, satisfied.
Adrian feels your pussy, sleeking fingers around the dripping lips. “I… believe we had a discussion; and then we ate into each other.”
“That’s a way to put it.” You run a hand through the sheen of his hair; he takes your wrist, kisses your palm.
“Mmmh… smells like you,” he licks at your finger, bringing you into him; careless of his disheveled (and excruciatingly charming) appearance: his tunic undone, his shirt crumpled, cock out and wet and drained and coated in you, as you are in him. “Feeling better?”
You nod.
“I need you,” Adrian says as you’re folded against him, his voice low and spent and grave. “I always will.”
“And I, you.” The truth.
“How fortunate,” Adrian smiles, snark whittling away at his tone as he cuddles into you. “How fortunate indeed.”