#this is almost like ghjk just notes for me abt them lmao

[coldvampire]

He has only just recently learned that Katherine the Toreador is Katerina the Ventrue, and he wants to be mad at the deception on the principle of the thing, but he understands--no one is out for Katherine's head, so that makes it easy, especially when you're alone like she is. He can't count how many times he's insisted she doesn't have to be, if she'd only just learn to be more honest with herself. Who is Katherine? He doesn't know, but Katerina has a place here in LA with the rest of the Anarchs, if she would take it. She's got the righteous fury and the cunning to make it far and be a bigger thorn in the Camarilla's side that she knows. But he's got her fear to contend with, which is no small entity. The only space she wants to take at the moment is in his arms, pressing her lips against his. Nines is taken aback by the sheer hunger of it all, but then again, perhaps peeling back the layers of her safety net warranted such a response. She wants him to take control, so she moulds her body to his and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him down, down, down to her level. Katerina, Katerina, Katerina. It rolls through his head like a hymn, and he knows that if he breaks away to ask her anything, he'll only get more desperate touches in response.

She's leaving again, and he doesn't want it to happen. Anger covers up the ache blossoming in his chest when she turns to leave the bed, and he grabs her back down into the sheets before she can protest. She's mad too--she hates being contained when it isn't something she's asked for, but he thinks that if he lets her go now, she'll shatter once that door closes behind her. She wants to stay, but she's terrified. Whether it's because she's worried for herself or worried she'll get him hurt, he doesn't know. There's something brewing in the streets, something volatile and vile and exactly the sort of situation she wouldn't want to find herself in the middle of. He can't promise safety in a physical sense, but he can pretend so long as it's just the two of them in his room. There's too much teeth in the kiss--Nines hopes that it's intentional when she nicks her tongue on one of his fangs. The drops of her vitae become ambrosia in his mouth, and it makes him greedy. She'll still leave, he knows that, but she follows him down when he wraps a selfish arm around her waist.

He's late. He is extremely late. Damsel, Skelter, everyone else--they'll be wondering where he is. He doesn't care. He's never cared about anything less in his life, in fact. All that matters is the here and now. They got sloppy and stupid and too drunk-on each other to keep track of who was feeding on who. He understands how ghouls come to be addicted to this. There's an unholy mess in his bed and around the room, hand prints in red showcasing where she had to brace herself against the wall or the dresser when he made her knees buckle again and again and again. The sound of her breathy sighs is intoxicating when he licks wounds shut, tracing lines of vitae up her neck. He needs her like he's never needed anything before, needs to smell her on his sheets long after they're done, needs to run his hands along the panes of her body, tangle them up in her hair and get lost somewhere in the blown-wide pupils of her green eyes. Each kiss leaves a deep crimson smear in its wake, and he swears he's never felt happier.

She's left, and he thinks it might be for good this time. She was just as insatiable for it as he was, just as lost in lust and vitae and something resembling genuine love. The pain is worse than the soaring high. It was never enjoyable in the past, when he'd woken up to an empty bed, but this? This was torture, white-hot and bright in his chest, and he's never been more livid. He tells himself it's the betrayal, but knows he would fall to his knees for her in a second if she would walk through that door. Touching his mouth, he can feel the ghost of her lips there, outlined in lipstick and vitae.

How many years has it been? Too long and not long enough. Kat is bittersweet; he won't even try to deny how much he missed feeling her against his chest or the soft reverence of her kisses. Everything she does is slower and almost ashamed, and he doesn't even try to tell himself that he can convince her to stay. She's the epitome of stubbornness, dead-set on the idea that she can protect him from herself. He knows she thinks she's some sort of curse, and he knows that he's never heard a bigger lie. She's missed him too. It feels like every action is an apology--if she were successful, if she were strong, she wouldn't be here right now, wouldn't be setting them both up to be hurt later on. He kisses her deeper, pulls her close, tries to be something stable, and if he didn't know better, he would say she's trembling, just like she would if she were crying.

She's in his bed again. Smiling, comfortable, lounging like she belongs there. She does. She reaches for him, and allows him to meet her halfway. Permission, an open door, something he was starting to think would never be a reality. It won't be a full time thing, at least on paper. Separate havens, so she doesn't 'suffocate' him with her taste in home decor. He would be fine with it, he's sure, if it meant he could feel her weight tucked safely against his chest every sunrise. She'll be here most of the time, if the way she can't keep her hands off of him is any indication. He luxuriates in every kiss, commits everything to memory. He counts the sparse number of freckles on her back over and over again--five, if he's counting the two that travel down her hip and thigh. This is what he's been waiting for, what he knew, sooner that he liked to admit, he wanted. For all the frustrations, he thinks that this is as close to perfection as people like them can get. The city lights beyond the window pane paint a shimmering outline on her body, and he kisses her for what feels like the hundredth time that night. And then, because he can, and because he will never get enough of this, he does it again, and again, and again.

#oc tag #katerina irakleidis #nines rodriguez #my writing #fic tag #vampire the masquerade #this is almost like ghjk just notes for me abt them lmao #this is over the span of like 40 years too btw. like 1-4 is pre vtmb #5 is during #6 is after. #and ofc not the Only times they met. #anyway YKNOW dgfhgjhj i love them <3