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copias-sewer-rat · 4 months

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Naughty Presents: Papa Emeritus I x AFAB!Reader

Summary: During the holidays Primo isn't as busy taking care of his dear flowers, but that doesn't mean he isn't going to ensure that you are taken care of.

Words: 6K

Warnings: smut, minors DNI, use of sex toys (sucker, dildo, bullet vibrator, bunny vibrator, cuffs and nipple pincers), edging, orgasm denial, slight roleplay (just a bit), cunnilingus, afab! reader, p in v action, grinding, over stimulation, uncomfortable possition, aftercare, bad translated Italian.

Available on Ao3

Secondo (Ao3)

Terzo (Ao3)

Copia (Ao3)

Author's note: First day of the XXXMas at the Ministry series, a wonderful collab involving @ghulehunknown, @molly-ghuleh, @bupia and myself. Please stay tunned for their stories comming the following days, I will update this here story as they post so you can go read. Extra thanks to @bupia for her amazing job on the graphics that come along these fics, absolutely stunning.

It is peaceful. December in the Abbey has always been. The view from your room is pure bliss. Untouched white snow covering the gardens, the small lights from the streetlamps casting a warm tone to it, almost like clouds when the sun sets. At a distance you observe the greenhouse, the place where your amore spends most of his time, that is when he isn’t covering you with kisses and adoring your body. It feels melancholic now. There isn’t much to do now for him now and you know he is eager to return to his duties, his green thumb burning with desire to plant and to take care of his beloved flowers once again.

He has always had a gentle touch, putting all of himself into the things that he loves, his brothers, his flowers, you… Now that the holiday season has begun, Primo has come up with a plan to take care of il suo fiore preferito.

Sitting next to the window, very close to your bedroom chimney, you hear a shuffle. You had expected for Primo not to return for at least a couple more hours, having absented himself saying that he had an urgent meeting with his brothers about the New Year’s party. Maybe it is your imagination playing games with you, maybe you are hearing the crackling of the fire and falling asleep. You certainly feel tired, feeling too comfy in the pillow and blanket fort you have made for yourself. The warm silence fills the room once again and you close your eyes briefly. You begin drifting off to sleep without even noticing it.

The image of Primo pops in front of you almost instantly in your mind, and you feel the outside warmth spreading inside of you, making you blush as he stares at you lovingly. He is so handsome, you think. His shinny long white hair falling free over his face and shoulders, his painted face offering the warmest of smiles. Primo gets closer to you, enveloping your form into his, caressing your back with his long and skilled hands, slowly descending to your butt. He kisses your face, every inch of it and starts to travel to your neck, kissing your pulse as a moan escapes your lips while you feel his pressure on top of you. His kisses become more fervent, more desperate and you cannot avoid gripping the back of his shirt. You can feel him so clearly, his heat, his fragrance, — a mixture of his favourite tea and the herbal flowery scent that follows him everywhere he goes — his mouth leaving hickeys all over and then his sharp canines are biting into you with force, making you gasp and wake.

You jolt awake and a pair of hands grab your sides gently.

“Mio sole, are you okay?” Primo stands right in front of you, just as he had been in your dream. His hair falling in the exact same places, the same warm and content smile lighting up the dimness of the room. You wonder if you this is still a dream, but Primo grips your sides with more force as a response of your silence and you know this is the real deal.

“I am fine, caro. I just had a bit of a weird dream…” You confess with tiredness in your voice.

“Davvero? Would you like to tell me about it?” Primo asks, and a slight blush creeps to your cheeks. “Cuore mio, I heard your moans… I thought you were having fun without me, and that cannot be.” He smirks showing his teeth and the slight blush turns into a full-on red face.

“Well… It wasn’t without you…” You look at him, biting your lower lip.

“Ah.. now I am intrigued. Perhaps you might want to tell me while you open your presents?” You blink and see a lustful glint in Primo’s green eye.

“What’s this about? Dear, it is not even Christmas yet.” The question falls on deaf ears as Primo extends his hand for you to take.

You rise from your seat, leaving the comfort of your nest to follow your lover. His hand takes yours gently, rubbing his thumb over the top in a calming motion. There is nothing to fear, you know for sure, you trust Primo with your body and soul.

“Close your eyes, mio sole.” He says and you obediently oblige. “That’s it, amoruccio. Let me lead you and in the meantime, tell me about this dream of yours sì?” A couple of hands grab your sides to guide you, hands you would let do anything and everything to you…

“Well, it was nothing out of the ordinary…” Primo hums “you were kissing me, touching me all over…” He taps your hip, signaling you to continue “and then you bit me with force, probably making me bleed, but the pain felt… nice? Like it added to the general pleasure, you know?” You hear a small laughter coming from him, he is not mocking you, but there is something funny going on, probably related to your surprise, so you just hold your question for a bit longer.

With a few more steps you feel your surroundings changing. You are still in your shared apartment but you are changing rooms. Primo’s hands go up and down your sides reassuringly, and you giggle ticklishly.

“Mio sole, mi dispiace, please could you wait here for a moment?”

“Of course, caro.” You say, eyes still closed.

Primo moves away from you and you already miss him. You hear shuffling, rustling and clicking, which suddenly turns you into a ball of pure nervousness. ‘What is he up to?’ you think. The image you see with your close eyelids suddenly turns orange, and then you see orbs of light dancing around. You know where you are now, the clear image of your living room appears in your mind, the long green velvety sofa, the dark brick chimney, the tall bookshelves full of books and the enormous Christmas tree situated in the middle of the room.

From a distance Primo calls your name, telling you to open your eyes and once again you oblige. The sight you encounter is nothing short of mouth opening. Everything is exactly as you had pictured it but for all of the new details in front of the tree. Primo is there, dressed in a red Santa Claus outfit, without the beard that is as his makeup graces his beautiful aging features. But everything else is on point: the hat, the suit, the leather boots and gloves, he looks fantastic! That’s not the only thing that catches your attention though. He is seated on a chair you have never seen before, it almost looks like a throne, and around it there are several presents wrapped in beautiful paper, all of them decorated with neatly handmade bows.

Your mouth opens at the sight. You are no stranger to get surprises from Primo, but this is something else.

“What-What is this?” Words fail you, you are too in shock to speak properly and Primo gives you a low chuckle.

“I was in a festive mood and thought of a way to thank you for being you, so incredibly amazing and perfect you.” The blush returns to you once more. “Come close, Primo Claus has some presents for you.” You almost cannot process what is going on, but instinctively put a foot in front of the other and get before him. “Come on, sit on my lap and tell Primo Claus how naughty you have been this year.” He says with a low tone and you blink several times, raising your brow incredulously and pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh. This is so out of character for him, which does not mean that it is not turning you on like hell. In fact, you can feel the wetness of your core staring to be bothering, your previous dream started the fire and now you feel like you are going up in flames.

The glint in Primo’s gaze is even stronger now, undressing you as if you were a present yourself, so neatly wrapped and ready to be teared up bit by bit. Agonizingly slow you sit down, holding Primo’s gaze as you do so, not intending to be the only one that is going to suffer tonight. You finally sit on his lap and wiggle a bit, trying to find a comfortable position, or that’s the lie you tell Primo when he asks you to stop teasing and that’s when you feel him already half hard under you. Once settled, Primo speaks:

“Okay, mio sole. Tell me, have you been good or naughty this year?” Trying to hold your laughter, you rise a hand and put it covering your mouth as if you were thinking very hard about it.

“Oh, Primo Claus, I think I have been very naughty this year…” You confess, your tone slow and sensual, trying to tease him as much as he is teasing you.

“Davvero? Tell me. What naughty things have you done this year?” Primo asks raising a hand and grabbing your chin so you don’t advert our gaze as you speak.

“Well, you see, my partner is a very horny old man and so we have done it everywhere, and I mean everywhere: the kitchen, the bedroom, this same living room in different areas, the bathroom, the closet, the gardens, the classrooms, the chapels, the confessional booths, his office, in some corridors as well…” As you continue your list, you feel Primo’s breath deepen, his heart beating faster and his cock getting harder.

“I get it, but lucky for you, Primo Claus does not reward people who have been nice, I reward naughty people… I get them as many presents as their horny hearts might desire. But you, amore, you are a special case because I want to try all these presents with you, right now.” There it is, that is what all of this was about, but you cannot complain. In fact, you are eager to follow along. The only proof that you need to know that you are going to enjoy this is Primo’s almost erect cock pressing on your butt.

“Really? Presents? For me?” You question with and innocent tone and doe eyes.

“Of course, I couldn’t leave my amore without presents…” Primo says as he leans down and grabs a medium size package, handing it to you with a toothy grin. “Open it!”

With shaky hands you tear the paper, the butterflies in your stomach becoming more intense when the first present is revealed: a couple of red puffy handcuffs.

“Primo? What-?” The question dies on you as he suddenly puts his lips on top of yours, kissing you fervently, his tongue entering your mouth, taking advantage of your surprised expression. His hands go directly to your back, holding you in place and yours travel to the back of his neck, leaving the box over your lap, toying with his platinum locks as he greedily explores your mouth.

“Amore, these presents are not my gift to you. Today, my gift to you is immeasurable pleasure. You are going to cum over and over on top of me, and I am not going to stop until I know that you are completely and utterly satisfied.” Primo says as he parts from you, his voice a whisper against your lips, and you gulp hard. “Do you want that, mio sole?”

“I do, please, Primo… I want it all.” You breath and he hums.

“Bene” With haste, Primo takes the box from your lap and opens it, revealing a pair of cute puffy handcuffs. They are red, which you feel he choose because of the holidays, to pair with his outfit. Discarding the box to the side he holds your sides and motions for you to stand up. “This is the only time you are going to stand up until we finish with this amore…” The look on his eyes is of pure lust, if he was undressing you before, now he is fucking you with his gaze. “Be good, undress for me.” Primo says, spreading his legs so you can see the bulge on his pants.”

Without a word, every piece of clothing gets discarded to the floor. Primo groans as he looks at you, grabbing his crotch to offer some comfort to his aching cock. He was sure that he was going to be hard during the whole ordeal, but he didn’t take into account how the dominance of it all was going to make him so fucking desperate to fuck you. Today, however, is all about your pleasure. He will find a way later to ease the need.

In a couple of minutes you are completely bare before him, the heat from the chimney not doing much as your nipples get rock hard in the winter cold. Primo eyes you up and down, his chest rising and falling slowly. A few seconds later he motions for you to get close and resume your previous position on his lap. Once settled he shows you the cuffs, opens them and lets you touch them.

“I want this to be pleasurable for you, my dear. If you don’t feel good or you want me to stop, please let me know, sì?” You nod with a smile, trying to look calm but you can feel yourself vibrating. The feeling of Primo’s hand on your back, the texture of the velvety suit all over your naked body and his breath hitting your neck are driving you insane. And he hasn’t done anything to you! “Arms back, amore, I am going to cuff you up.” Obediently, your hands are set comfortably at the low of your back, almost touching your ass. The cuffs restrain your movements but you don’t feel them tight, they are quite nice actually, the synthetic hair that covers them softens the rigidness of the metal and you appreciate that Primo has chosen this pair in particular. “Now that you are tied up you cannot open your presents, so I hope you don’t mind if I do it for you?” Primo asks with a grin.

“It is okay… I don’t mind.” It comes out in a whisper, almost out of breath as your chest rises and falls in anticipation. The power that he holds right now is making you feel so vulnerable, so small under him, but you love it.

Primo grabs another present, a bit larger this time. Setting it on your lap and tearing the paper. This time the present is a clitoral sucker. There is no pause as he gets the second toy out of its box.

“Papa, those toys come without charge, you know that right?” You ask teasingly.

“Good thing then that I charged every single one of them before I wrapped them, huh amoruccio?” ‘He is really committed, dear Satanas’ you think. ‘There is no escape from this one.’

Without warning he starts kissing your neck, licking that same spot you had dreamed about minutes earlier, now feeling absolutely real. His tongue is so hot, so wet and you regret having your hands tied up as you cannot touch him at all. As best as you can you wiggle to get closer to his body but he stops kissing you.

“Sì, be naughty if you want your present my love…” You face finds the crook of his neck and suddenly a click sound makes you jump slightly. With his free hand, Primo parts your legs and makes you recline slightly so he can have better access to your already dripping cunt. “Stay still.” You turn slightly to see the humming toy approach the place where you need it most. Your forehead is pressed against Primo’s neck, the anticipation building your arousal until he places the sucker to your clit.

The vibrations shake you instantly, the pressure to your clit immediately traveling through your entire body. Your legs feel like gelatin and you know you won’t be able to hold your first orgasm for long. The intense tightening of your abdomen getting more and more difficult to handle as the sucker deals with the bundle of pure lust in between your legs.

“Caro, please, if you don’t stop- ah- I am- I- am going to cum so fast, please… AH-” The scorching heat inside of your dreads to escape so quickly but Primo grabs your side, the feeling of the leather soothing you but doing nothing you alleviate the tension building up inside of you.

“I need to cum, Primo, please, let me cum, don’t take it away, please…”

“That cannot be, we have so many things to try… This was only the appetizer…” As the sentence is finished he takes the sucker from your clit, making you launch yourself forward seeking the contact of it. Gently, Primo holds you and leaves the toy on the floor, grabbing another package. You pant, the air does not stay in your lungs for long and Primo chuckles. “So worked up already huh? Hope you can take all my presents mio sole…”

Slowly, tearing up the paper once more of an even larger package, the third present is revealed before your eyes: a vibrating wand. Your mouth waters, the aching in your core needing it desperately and involuntarily your hips thrust forward, but you cannot move that much more being as restrained as you are. No words are uttered this time, Primo knows what you need and he is going to give it you. Once it is on, he gets the wand closer to your core, not touching it, but looking at it you can feel the vibrations all through you.

“Primo, please. I need it. Please, per favore, make me cum…” You shift slightly, rubbing his erect member, teasing as much as you can so he gives it to you already, but the plan doesn’t go as planned when he withdraws the toy from the proximity of your core.

“I told you to be naughty, not a teaser my dear. In the end, I am the one bestowing these gifts to you, you need to treat me good, sì?” Tears form in your eyes and you nod.

“Yes, I am sorry, I’ll be good.”

“Davvero? Then moan for me, my love…” Suddenly, the wand is pressed against your clit without a warning. The vibrations stronger than before, the tightening in your abdomen quickly approaching as you moan for your lover.

“Primo, ah- ah- fuck! So good! Don’t stop please, don’t- I- I am going to cum! Please keep-keep going, ah- fuck, fuck, fuck-”

“Do it for me my dear, cum now for your Papa…” and oh Satanas, you do, so hard. Your whole body spams on top of him and you involuntarily rub your ass against his hardness, making him moan as well. “Cazzo, my love, that was powerful… you feel so good on top of me, fuck!”

Trying to regain your breath, Primo turns off the toy and leaves it next to the sucker. Immediately after another package is on his hands while you try to compose yourself back.

“This is a special one, we haven’t tried something like this before, but you are going to look so good with it on…” He says, breaking the paper on top of your lap once more.

The toy in front of you is not familiar to you, but the form tells you everything you need to know. The picture in the box shows a necklace supporting two chains that end on some type of pincers, and you blush instantly. He takes it out and puts the velvety choker around your neck as if it were the most beautiful diamond necklace. Then, he grabs the two pincers and shows them to you.

“These won’t hurt, but if you feel too uncomfortable, please, let me know.”

“Okay…” You say in a low tone, almost embarrassed of how easily Primo can make you tremble so much while being so gentle with you.

“MMMMMMMMM!!!” you hiss from the contact in pleasure as he pinches one of your nipples, rubbing your core against his leg in response, coating it all with your juices. His eyes go wide open, he had never heard you moan like that. Then, he goes for the other and now you scream from how the pinch-y feeling on your very sensitive nips is making you want to choke on Primo’s cock. The pressure feels so nice against your swollen nips, but you need so much fucking more. You continue rubbing yourself on the velvety fabric of Primo’s pants, chasing your pleasure once again. Primo lets you move briefly, the chains around your chest and your reddened nipples have him hypnotized, how they hug your body, how the metal slaps your skin and gets stuck where you are sweating. The beads of sweat mixing with the shinning metal and the swollen and slightly bruised skin, all that combined with your desperate motions and sounds…. he wants to fuck you senseless, no, he needs it. You are his present and you just got a nice little bow to go along how fucking sinful you look right now. His cock rubs slightly against your ass and he doesn’t stop you this time, he needs some type of relief, but he doesn’t want to be greedy. This is entirely about you, he remembers, so he reconsiders and grabs your shoulders, stopping you instantly.

“Cuore mio, as much as I would like to fuck you until you could not move for a few days, e credimi, lo voglio, cazzo… This is about you…”

He is so cute, he really wants to prioritize your pleasure, but you have other plans. You don’t really want to do have all the fun alone, even if he is the one administrating your pleasure, Christmas is about sharing after all.

“Give me another present, I crave it. I need to cum again… Primo please…”

“Peccaminoso Satana, I am going to give you everything you need…” Primo grabs present number five and tears the paper without hesitation. This time it is a normal bullet vibrator.

“This one is just to get you ready for the rest, love, we won’t be using it as much…”

As Primo gets the vibrator closer to your opening you cannot avoid the shiver that runs through your spine. The over stimulation of your first orgasm still sending waves of pleasure and spasms all over your body. Involuntarily, trying to avoid the contact with the toy, you wiggle backwards on Primo’s lap. Noticing your sudden attempt to flee he tightens his grab around you, keeping you in place.

“Love, you have to be brave. It was only one orgasm… I know by experience that you can give me more. Per favore, permettimi di farti venire…” There is no need for you to understand what he is saying because you know and your core twitches in delight, the over stimulation from before turning once again into the need to be filled and taken care of. So, silently you buckle your hips forward once more to the same position as before, your cuffed hands pressing on Primo’s thigh, making him shiver under you. He is so desperate for any type of pressure that the sightless touch from his amore makes him jump.

Accepting your fate, you fold your knees and spread your legs open, letting your cunt free for Primo to see. From his position, he can see your folds glistening, your clit engorged and red and your entrance so deliciously looking, so ready to be fucked. Primo licks his lips, he is so thirsty for you, he just wants to put his face between your legs and eat you out like the most delicious Christmas feast. Then, he catches you looking at him with puppy eyes, you have been left there waiting, how rude of him, he couldn’t never deny you anything.

Primo opens his legs slightly so your butt leans on the more than spacious throne’s cushion, which makes you fall back, but thankfully Primo’s gloved hand pushes on your back slightly, placing itself on the broad of it. When he looks at you for confirmation for him to continue you nod, and he guides the bullet dildo to your entrance. When it finally goes in, it opens your folds with a wet sound that makes you moan. The toy isn’t specially big, but its coldness, the pressure on your nipples and your previous orgasm makes it feel so fucking good. Primo follows a rhythmic pattern in and out, in and out, your core sucking in the toy with ease… maybe too much ease. You need something much bigger, Primo thinks, something that opens you up just like his cock does.

With a pop sound, Primo gets the dildo out of you and in return you mewl sweetly, begging for its return. You are so horny, all this teasing, this denial, the anticipation and even the slight feeling of despair, it is making you so fucking horny. You just want to be fucked over and over and over and over.

As if reading your mind, Primo gets another present, the biggest yet. He catches you looking at it and rises the still wrapped package. As he does so, you take notice of a folded piece of the wrapping paper that hangs loosely. Straightening your back and using only your teeth, you grab the paper and go down, tearing it open with your mouth. Primo observes attentively, his aching cock more and more in need of attention. Waves of memories come back to him of you using your mouth so sweetly and skillfully on his leaking shaft. He thanks the Dark Lord every single day for bringing you into his life, filling every single aspect of his life with your light and your warmth, you are his sole after all, and he will ache for you forever.

The next present is a bunny vibrator, also red, Primo has really committed to the holiday theme. Your mouth waters, so ready to feel what Primo has to offer. As a token of your appreciation you kiss him, hot and sloppily, trying not to fall from your position and he reciprocates eagerly. Every movement you do, every look, every moan it is driving him closer to the edge, and now… this…

While kissing you, he positions the dildo to your entrance, getting the clitoral vibrator also in its place. When he turns it on you moan in his mouth, clenching your hands on his thigh, feeling the waves of shock on your swollen clit. Primo takes the chance of your open mouth to bite your bottom lip and enter you with the dildo at the same time and, oh, you could die right there and then and thank Satan for this wonderful gift of lust.

“FUCKING HELL, PRIMO! l-love! It is so good! ah, mmmm” You scream once he let off your lip. The wet sounds of your walls sucking the dildo are music to Primo’s ears. This is exactly what he wanted and yet… he feels like a fucking selfish bastard for wanting you to make those sounds because of his cock, not some toy. The whole point of this was to pleasure you, but he can do that himself. Now he feels a bit distraught, so he is not going to stop until you beg to be fucked by him, no matter how long it takes.

He doesn’t know, but that is what you want as well, you love how he is making you feel, how much he cares about your pleasure, but you also need him so deep inside you. “Aah, ah, ah, AGH AGH!” You scream with each pound into your core, every thrust deeper than the last. It doesn’t get as deep as Primo’s dick, but it is doing its job nonetheless.

“I am going to cum, holy shit, fuck, fuck, Primo-” He is about to loose it, your ass is grinding his cock, and he might cum just because of that. “Please, oh shit, oh fuck, fuck me, please fucking fuck me I need your cock, fuck!” You almost cry, the chains on your chest hitting your sweaty chest, your arms starting to go numb, it is all too much.

“I need to fuck you too, mio sole. But be good, cum for me first, sì? I want to see your pussy clenching this fucking toy mhm? Think it is my cock, then I will give you the real deal.” The need for him to fuck you sends you into a powerful orgasm, one that Primo guides with the toy, putting more pleasure on your clit, making you even squirt all over his pants.

“Cuore mio, così fottutamente peccaminoso, ti scoperò finché non lo farai intorno al mio cazzo.” He whispers with a grave voice that makes you dizzy. You are spent, your orgasm hitting you so hard that you even regret slightly having asked Primo for more, because as you begin to breath normally once again he picks you up as best as he can and sits you on the throne. Not only that, but he unleashes your hands for a second before asking you to rise them over your head. With your limbs hurting you do as he says, grabbing the top part of the throne, and right there Primo locks your hands together again with the pink cuffs. Once you are settled, you observe a couple of unopened presents around you. Wow, you are really THAT horny for each other, huh?

“I need to see you, see the mess that you have made just for me…” Your legs hurt, everything hurts, but the need for Primo wins every single time. As best as you can you spread your legs open, letting them hang over the armrests of the throne. There, he sees your beautiful cunt, swollen, glistening with your release and he kneels there, smelling your juices. He is so fucking hard, but first he needs this, he needs his mouth on you, to taste how sweet your nectar is.

Primo dives right in, his hands at each of your legs, supporting your effort. His hooked nose bruises your clit in the most delicious way, and even if your body feels so tired, with a couple of licks from his skilled tongue you can feel the tightness in your belly starting to build up again. He drinks from you, his face pure lust as he looks at you, lost in your own pleasure, and you wonder how he is holding without touching his erection. He won’t strain from his path, right now being lost in your perfectly sweet cunt.

“Love, please, I need you buried inside of me, give me your cock, scoparmi… per favore, caro…” He needs nothing more. As a man possessed, Primo gets up on his feet and with a dark look starts to work on his pants, still drenched with your arousal and his paints messed from your juices, some of them probably staining your thighs and folds. A satisfied moan escapes his lips as the air of the room hits his cock. Right then you realize how bad he must feel. His dick is so red and swollen, the precum drenching his whole length, glistening like a melting popsicle waiting for a hungry mouth to suck on it.

“Quando lucifero creò il peccato della carne essi pensarono al tuo corpo e ai molti modi in cui poteva essere adorato. Sto per godermi di nuovo il suo dono come se fosse la prima volta, tutto per me.” He groans in quick Italian and you moan in return. You don’t understand a word but, by Satan, does it turn you on when he is so lost in his carnal desire that all that comes out is Italian praises and curses.

“Caro, please, please…”

“Come si desidera…” And with that he aligns himself, hissing from the contact with your cunt “Così fottutamente bagnato, così caldo…” and he goes in with a single motion, slowly, enjoying how your walls clench around his length. All the time he had been outside from you while you enjoyed your present it was killing him, he realizes that now. His place is inside of you, beside you, always with you, nowhere else.

He bottoms in, hitting your cervix on the first try.

“Fucking hell, dear Lucifer… please, oh, please!” You don’t know what you are asking for at this point.

“Dammi un altro, so che puoi farlo, un altro per il tuo Papa” Primo starts to move at a quick pace, he knows he isn’t going to take him long to become undone and he also knows you will be undone soon as well.

There are no words between you now, just pure horny nonsense and the sound of skin against skin, wet and hot and fucking pornographic. Your hands hurt, your knuckles turn white from the grip on the throne and your head goes backwards, your eyes following to the back of your head. Primo grabs your thighs and rises your lower part, your back arching in a very uncomfortable way, but you don’t mind, this way he has a better angle.

He knows how to fuck you so well and you take it the same way, the stretch of your walls making you scream his name over and over so you just open your mouth in awe and close your eyes, lost in pure bliss.

“C-cum for me, mio sole. I am so close too, so… fucking… agh… close.”

With that there is no way of stopping your impending climax, and you do, once again squirting violently around his length. Primo pumps in and out of you, getting his cock almost out of you with every single thrust as he reaches his own orgasm then, his cum mixing with your own release, ropes of his seed flying to your stomach and ever your chest.

“Cazzo! So fucking perfect for me, the- the most perfect creature in the entire world…fuck……..”

Once he is done, Primo falls forward, letting go of your legs but still inside of you, his length going soft. Both your breaths are uneven, you are specially tired after so many earth-shattering orgasms. Sleep catching up quickly with you even in your uncomfortable possition. When Primo takes notice of you almost falling asleep from pure exhaustion, he collects himself, sets you free and lets the chain around your chest fall to the ground, making you groan as thanks, coherent words impossible to be formed right now.

Gently, he grabs your naked form, pulls you to your feet and accompanies you to your shared bathroom where he draws a warm bath to clean you whole. The steam and the warmth calm your aching muscles, making you almost fall asleep right there, but Primo doesn’t let you. He washes you, every single sore part treated with the upmost care and you thank the very day you met him because he is the best present you could have ever gotten. Clearly, he thinks the same as he tucks you into bed, kissing your cheek, looking at you with such love and affection, wishing nothing more than to spend the rest of his life by your side.

----

Italian translations:

amore: love

il suo fiore preferito: his favourite flower

mio sole: my sun

Davvero?: really?

Cuore mio: my heart

amoruccio: my little love

mi dispiace: I’m sorry

bene: good

e credimi, lo voglio, cazzo: and believe me, I fucking want that

peccaminoso Satana: sinful Satan

Per favore, permettimi di farti venire: Please, allow me to make you cum

così fottutamente peccaminoso, ti scoperò finché non lo farai intorno al mio cazzo: so fucking sinful, I am going to fuck you until you do that around my cock

scoparmi… per favore, caro: fuck me, please, dear

Quando Lucifero creò il peccato della carne essi pensarono al tuo corpo e ai molti modi in cui poteva essere adorato. Sto per godermi di nuovo il suo dono come se fosse la prima volta, tutto per me, sempre così buono per me: When Lucifer created the sin of the flesh they thought about your body and the many ways it could be adored. I am about to enjoy his gift once again as if it was the first time, all for me.

come si desidera: as you wish

così fottutamente bagnato, così caldo: so fucking wet, so hot

dammi un altro, so che puoi farlo, un altro per il tuo Papa: give me one more, I know you can do it, one more for your Papa

----

Taglist:

@megachaoticstupid @eternal-kosmo-ghoul @stephnthangss @sacred-coffin @her-satanic-wiles @bitchywitchygardener @da-rulah @m0rbidmacabre @fxnofthxngs @foxybouquet @oh-my-beel @allthisandtea @st4rving4in @deetz-ghuleh @redthefieryginger @sodoswitchimage @discountdemonwarehouse @molly-ghuleh @ghulehunknown @thew0man @megachaoticstupid @eternal-kosmo-ghoul @stephnthangss @the-did-i-ask

Please remember that if you I'll be tagging you on the rebblogs for my the fics of my mates so you don't miss anything, lots of love

#xxxmasattheministry #merryghostmas #merryghostmas2023 #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus i #primo emeritus #primo emeritus smut #papa primo x afab!reader #primo x afab!reader

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her-satanic-wiles · 7 months

Text

October 9th

Glory Hole, Papa Emeritus I x GN!Reader

Masterlist

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: Glory holes; sex work; gn!Reader (but reader has a vulva); major inspiration from those slavic glory hole porn videos (iykyk); free use; fingering; overstimulation; cunnilingus; pussy worship (because of course there is); body worship (because this is Primo we’re talking about, man will lavish you in praise unprovoked); squirting; multiple orgasms; unprotected sex; piv sex; spanking; I may have accidentally made this reader plus size so if you are, great, if not, also great… ;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

There were times in one’s life where partaking in sins of the flesh wasn’t quite as romantic as one always wanted. The church, of course, always promoted the use of sexual rituals when it came to invoking the Dark One, as well as carnal lust being one of the most important fundamentals of their beliefs. However, sometimes sex was a bare necessity. Banging one out was akin to taking your car to the mechanic to get the oil changed, or cleaning your house and resetting it every season.

Primo, being the old man he was now, didn’t often find himself partaking in rituals anymore. Didn’t feel like he wanted to play cat and mouse with a pretty young sister - or old sister, he wasn’t picky. The idea of wooing a goddess every time exhausted his old brain, thus when nature did call on him, as rare as it was, he would go down to the basement levels where strings of Siblings also needed some attention and couldn’t be bothered with chasing down someone they deemed attractive. Where faces could remain hidden and the thrill of anonymity heightened the pleasurable experiences.

The Ministry’s glory hole.

Now, it seems ridiculous and kind of culty that a religious sect would own a plethora of custom built glory holes, I completely understand. But it just seemed fitting to have one when so many people live in a small space, and a large portion of these people are insanely horny introverts.

So, Primo walked into the corridor that lead to private rooms, chose the orifice he wanted to use and entered the room. After knocking, of course, he wasn’t a monster. The Sibling who was waiting for him had been propped up on a cardboard structure, the perfect height for the average penis-wielder. They were positioned on their stomach, allowing whoever came in two holes to easily play with.

Primo grabbed the camping chair that had been folded neatly in the corner of the room and placed it in front of the hole. His head was at the perfect height to play with the Sibling with his hands and mouth, which is something he intended to do first. Primo, like all of the Papas after him, was a very attentive lover - gracious, even with people he was to spend only twenty minutes with. He had no idea how long they’d been there, but he could see by their bare and swollen folds (and even a droplet of cum on the floor) that they had been used before him. Therefore, he wet two of his own fingers and delicately placing them inside them, tentatively, so as not to hurt their already sensitive pussy. They hissed at the feeling, the overstimulation catching up to them, but the moan that followed afterwards told Primo that they were still ready and happy to go. The light above their hole was green, so he knew the other person was consenting to this.

Green light - good to go.

Yellow light - stop what you’re doing and switch it up.

Red light - stop completely.

Everyone within the booths had buttons to press to express their consent as well as alarms just in case someone overstayed their welcome. Big and burly Ministry officers would come charging in and forcibly remove the other person if needs be. Safety was always the most important thing.

When Primo pulled his fingers out, the only thing coating them was the Sibling’s juices, meaning whoever had used them before had cleaned up after themselves. Primo grunted in appreciation. He didn’t mind eating cum out of a pussy, provided it was his own. With the confirmation he needed, Primo nuzzled into the Sibling’s folds, and allowed his tongue to flick over the sensitive bud softly, tentatively making sure this was okay before proceeding to get more intense. The light remained green.

So, Primo placed his hands on the Sibling’s deliciously plump ass and spread them apart, giving him complete and unobstructed access to his favourite place of worship. His tongue darted erratically over the Sibling’s clit, alternating between licking and sucking. He knew this was a hit with the Sibling, given that their hips were rocking back and forth, working Primo’s nose deeper into their wetness. They tried not to give away their identity with their voice, but their moans and little gasps of “yes!” and “more!” wasn’t helping them. Thankfully, Primo didn’t recognise their voice, but his cock was certainly standing to attention and appreciative of the noises it was hearing.

Pulling away temporarily, Primo inserted two of the same fingers into the Sibling’s slick hole and curved downward, roughly fingering them as he sucked on their clit. He had been around long enough to know exactly what to do and how to please whatever partner he was with, and the Sibling’s gasps of affirmation was enough for him to know that they were seriously enjoying him. It wasn’t long before his fingers felt the familiar tightness, and his face became drenched in the Sibling’s cum, their squirt trickling out of them and flooding the shelf they were lay on. Papa only stopped when he saw the light turn yellow.

He stood and removed the chair, placing it back to where he got it from, before undressing himself. He was a traditional man, preferring to be completely nude under his robes, and so he stood as naked as the Sibling, cock standing freely and begging to sink into the sopping cunt in front of him. In reassurance, and perhaps a gentle warning, Primo placed one of his hands on the Sibling’s ass and stroked it gently. He ran his cock through their folds once, twice, three times before easing himself in gently. The Sibling’s gasp was music to his ears, and it took everything in him not to thrust forward and take his own pleasure. But he held on to the very last bit of sanity he had for the sake of this poor Sibling’s overworked hole. Even with his cock working its way inside the Sibling, he was still giving them reassuring touches and being as gentle as possible. But their pussy was warm, and wet, and fluttering with every movement. He hadn’t felt this good in years.

Papa didn’t care who knew he was in there, he just wanted to make sure the Sibling was comfortable. “Flash your light green when you’re ready for me to move.” He requested.

After a few seconds the light flashed, and Primo began his assault.

The thrusts were tentative and shallow at first, but soon enough he let his wants take over him. His pace quickened and his hands gripped tightly onto the Sibling’s hips to ground and allow himself to hit the right spots more precisely. He would alternate between quick, short thrusts to long, powerful hits where he’d slam himself back in and reach the very back of their hole. He needed this. He didn’t realise just how horny he’d been until he sank deep into the Sibling. He’d almost forgotten how good a tight, wet cunt felt wrapped around his achingly hard cock. Sathanas - if He was good, He would allow Primo more reminders of his youth so he could come back down and play with as many Siblings as he could get his hands on. But he almost wanted to keep this Sibling forever. He wanted to find out who they were. He wanted to bring them up to his chambers and watch their voluptuous ass bounce on his cock as he lay on the bed like a King.

He watched with intent as their ass jiggled at the recoil, every time his hips rammed against it and bounced with the force. He bit his lip and let out a groan, resisting the urge to spank. He didn’t want to do anything the Sibling was uncomfortable with. “C-can I spank you? Fl-flash if yes.”

Another flash, this one even faster than before. Primo chuckled. His hand came down with a slap over and over again, the intensity getting bigger and bigger until their right cheek was red and raw with the impact. Every time he hit them, they squeaked like a little mouse. Between each hit was a reassuring rub, followed by an even more intense one. Sometimes, he would couple the slap with the timing of his cock hitting their cervix. This would earn him an unintentional scream.

When Primo had tired of the spanking, he moved his hand under their bodies and began working his middle finger at the Sibling’s clit. They had already cum once by Primo’s mouth, and it felt great when their cunt constricted his fingers, but he was desperate to feel it around his cock. With the amount they were worked up, he didn’t believe it would be long before they came. And sure enough, the familiar tightness began to appear and Primo felt their walls closing in again. His own throat released a growl as the Sibling’s orgasm ripped one of his own and his balls emptied inside them. They stayed connected for a moment, Primo being too tired to move but also not wanting it to end. But eventually, he pulled out, hissing at the loss of warmth.

His eyes were transfixed on the Sibling’s pussy, watching his cum ooze out of them like melted ice cream down a cone. His finger ran through the mess and gathered it before licking it off. He couldn’t help himself. Once more he unfolded the chair from the corner and set to work abusing their cunt in the sweetest of ways.

The Sibling, who was now almost entirely fuck-drunk and brain dead from orgasms, was babbling incoherently to themselves on the other side of the wall. Their hips were bucking at the feeling of Primo’s tongue eating his own cum out of their cunt and they could hardly contain themselves. Their hand moved backwards, reaching for Primo’s bald head and pushing him further into their cunt as though they were desperate for another orgasm. “Papa!” They cried. “L-like that! Right th-ere. Oh fuck! Please don’t stop! Don’t stop!” And it didn’t take much more than a nudge to the clit to have them tipping over again and cumming for the third time from Primo’s body alone. They were completely breathless by the time Primo pulled away, and in their somewhat delusional state, they clumsily climbed out of the hole and exposed their entirely naked body and face to their Papa.

“Hey, hey!” Primo said, concern in his voice as he watched the exhausted Sibling sway. He gently moved them to the seat and had them sit on it. “Are you okay, little one?”

They nodded. “I wanted to see you.”

Primo chuckled fondly. “Why?”

“I don’t know.”

He wrapped his own robes around the Sibling, who was now shaking, and stood behind them giving them an awkward back hug, trying to bring warmth back to their adrenaline-filled body. “What’s your name?”

“I’m ___.” They answered. “C-can I see you again, Papa? Please?”

It had been a long time since a person had attached themselves to him because of his bedroom prowess. “Only for coffee, little ___. Your head is not clear enough for other decisions.”

They nodded. Primo found themselves looking at them in adoration - they were so unbelievably cute. If nothing else, Papa may have just made himself a new friend.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

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writingjourney · 10 months

Text

Friday Nights at the Cinema Club | Vampire!Primo x gn!Reader

Summary: The handsome old gentleman who attends the late night showings is certainly the best part about your small town weekend job. But as the gentle attraction between you slowly begins to bloom, you realise that there’s more to him than meets the eye – and promptly find yourself chased into the woods by an unexpected monster.

Content: 14k words, vampire!primo, gn!reader, horror, violence, being hunted, harassment, men being assholes, smut (18+ MDNI, biting, blood kink/blood drinking, oral sex r!receiving, penetration, coming inside, unprotected sex)

This was originally intended to fill the “hunted” prompt for the @petrifyingpapas challenge. I am a little late but I hope you enjoy it anyway and give Primo his chance to shine! ♡

Masterlist – Ao3 link – Part 2 | Secondo's story

“This life of earth, whatever my attire, Would pain me in its wonted fashion. Too old am I to play with passion; Too young, to be without desire.”

― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust: Part 1

Now

He’s been following you for weeks.

Primo just can’t stop himself, no matter how many times he tells himself that he’s overstepping. As he watches the hurried pace you set, carrying you home in the early hours of a cool spring morning, he smells your distress like an overly strong perfume. Jacket tightly wrapped around your tense shoulders, your steps quicken whenever you leave the safe light of a streetlamp. You’re always nervous walking home alone, even more so since the incident at work.

This is the very thought that calms his conscience – his concern is rightful, necessary even. He has to protect you because you have no one else who will. Not that you cannot protect yourself, he knows you can, you hold your own quite nicely, but why take any unnecessary risks? Four eyes see more than two, especially if two of those have preternatural vision.

Suddenly you stop, glancing around with searching eyes. “Hello?”

Primo stops as well. It’s impossible that you heard him, he didn’t make any sounds that a human ear could process. Your eyes dart in a different direction and he’s on alert immediately. A few rapid beats of your heart pass. You seem to decide that you’re alright because you continue on your journey even if your legs move that extra bit quicker, walking as fast as possible without actually running.

No, Primo knows you don’t need him. You never ask him to walk you home and when he offers, you politely decline every single time. You don’t need him. You don’t need him how he needs you, and yet it feels good to imagine that you do. That anyone does. The thought he will not entertain, however, is that his motive is a selfish one. He’s been lonely for so long that he pours all that he has into this… whatever this is. And why should he not? In all the centuries that passed since he was cast upon this earth you’re the most wonderful thing he ever had the pleasure to behold and his time with you is so tragically limited, no matter what happens.

“Fuck,” he hears you mutter then, effectively distracting him. Again, you stop very suddenly, glancing vaguely into the direction he’s hiding in but without any real focus. “Who the fuck is there?”

Primo doesn’t sense anyone else. Possibly, you just heard a strange noise which wouldn’t be the first time since the incident. You’ve been on edge ever since and understandably so. Of course you don’t know that there is no danger of the same thing ever repeating. Which doesn’t mean you’re safe from other perils. Primo dares to stalk closer, foolishly so, because he’s too close now and you must have spotted his movements in the dark because you start to run like your life depended on it.

To his utter terror, you don’t follow your usual route home but take the shortcut through the woods. With breakneck speed, you run along the mud path that meanders through thick pine trees and mossy hills. Primo has no issue keeping up with you of course but he worries about protruding roots and sharp stones you may not see with your human eyes.

His fear is misdirected. He’s so distracted, watching your every step, that he doesn’t notice the odd smell at first, the second strong, comparatively slow heartbeat amongst all the quiet and rapid ones of the forest animals. But this is no rabbit, no deer, no boar. When he finally notices the presence of the strange entity, the spike of panic is clouding every other rational thought.

He is after you – and he’s fast.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Four weeks ago

The man has been attending the late night showings for weeks now, every Friday and Saturday. Every week, he shows up exactly fifteen minutes before the screening starts, even though there are practically no waiting times in the small club cinema you’re working at. His attire was what drew your attention to him that first night, even before you’d seen his face, and his choice of clothing seems deliberate. Most evenings, he wears simple black slacks over expensive-looking Italian leather brogues. Tonight, he combined them with a loose white shirt with frills and an open collar that peeks out of a burgundy tailcoat with black lapels and gold embroideries. It looks old-fashioned but not out of place in the similarly dated establishment.

As he approaches you behind the counter, you’re struck yet again, despite being familiar with his almost ethereal looks by now. He must be close to eighty but his deep wrinkles only add to his effortless beauty. His most notable feature, however, is the skull paint adorning his stern face with two uncanny, mismatched eyes – one iris in green and one impossibly white. With his face framed by long blond hair spilling over his shoulders, silky and curled at the ends, he looks like a man who knows exactly how to present himself. An air of easy sophistication surrounds him as he takes deliberate steps in your direction. You’re not surprised that he shows up on weekends when your boss screens his beloved classics. At least that’s what he calls any movie that came out before the year 2000.

“So, Dracula today, yes?” It’s not a question as much as a statement, dripping with distaste. “And the 1992 one at that.”

“Do you not enjoy vampires, sir?” you ask, taking the money for his ticket. Every single bill looks pristine, like it’s been freshly printed, and again, he won’t accept the change you hold out to him, waving off with a gentle smile. Buy yourself a drink on my behalf, tesoro, he’d said once, and you aren’t questioning him anymore, you just pocket the money since there is no one you could split it with.

He regards you with interest. “I enjoy them, sì, though I never found their portrayal in cinema quite believable.”

You chuckle. “Well, perhaps that is because they’re not real.”

“Perhaps, yes,” he says unfazed. “Or perhaps it is the clichés, no?”

“I really like the movie,” you admit. “Though I wish she would just get with the vampire. I certainly wouldn’t hesitate.”

He cocks a curious eyebrow. “Davvero?”

His thick Italian accent makes you blush on any given day, even more so when he speaks plain Italian. There is something about the timbre of his voice that changes, like gold melting in the heat of a forge, the syllables fused together with a flick of his tongue.

“Mhm,” is all you can answer.

“Will you watch it as well, little flower?” he asks and you smile at the nickname he chose for you weeks ago when he caught you arranging a bouquet in the foyer.

“Oh, no, I’m not allowed to leave the register unattended. Or… well, watch movies while I’m supposed to work.”

“I see.” He smiles again, the black lines over his lips shifting so that he looks almost gentle, the severity of the paint watered down by the kindness in his eyes. “That is a pity.”

Is he flirting with you? You can’t tell. Surely, he is just being nice, a polite older gentleman. Would you want him to be flirting with you, though? No, of course not. You couldn’t even flirt back. Your boss might fire you if he found out that you even so much as looked at him the wrong way.

“Can I offer you a snack or a drink, sir?” you ask, remembering your actual job.

“You know, I will take a whisky today,” he says. “If you have it.”

“Of course we do, sir, you can choose your seat and I will serve it in a second.”

The stranger heads off towards the screening room with its soft, polished leather armchairs and moody lighting, jazz tunes wafting from the speakers. You look after him, his long hair gently swaying with every step, and the door to the backroom springs open. It’s your boss, Max, a man in his mid-forties, so unremarkable with his shaggy black hair and his blatant misogyny that he could be any man you ever met. Only that he practically owns you by way of paying for your every bill while you finish your degree. Jobs in small towns are hard to come by, decent men even harder.

“Go serve our customer, come on,” he urges. “I heard him ask for something”

“The register…”

“I take it. Move your pretty ass over, perhaps wiggle a bit when you do, the old pervert is going to love it.”

You make to leave without wiggling, heading towards the small serving station in the hallway. “Oh, hey,” Max calls after you. “I need you to clean up tonight. Cleaning lady called in sick. Feeling faint or whatever, broke down in the supermarket if you can believe it. They say she’s anemic, that’s their excuse for everything women have these days.”

“Okay,” you reply, hoping he chokes on his tongue one of these days. “Of course, Max. I’ll clean up. No problem.”

“Be a good little thing, don’t forget to check under the seats, always tons of junk down there after the evening showings.”

You nod and try not to run into the screening room and away from him. By now, all anger towards him has been numbed by the sheer amount of obnoxious remarks but you’re never sure if he’s above trying to actually touch you one day. So far, he’s all bark and no bite, but with men like him you never know. Being the only employee who works the night shifts doesn’t help but there is just not enough demand to bring in the others.

You find the stranger in one of the top rows, comfortably seated in what is your favourite spot as well. A smile creeps onto your face. “Here is your whiskey, sir.”

The man peers up at you in what looks like ingenuine surprise, his white eye showing a glimmer of sympathy. He must have heard you and Max but is clearly trying not to show it. You wonder how – you can’t even hear Max outside right now over the jazz music.

“Grazie mille,” he says as he takes the glass from you.

“Of course, sir. Enjoy your movie.”

“Thank you, fiore.” He smiles, always such a kind smile. “You are a wonderful host.”

You can’t help but smile back, looking at him for just a little longer than is appropriate. But Max must have started the film because the lights dim suddenly until it’s fully dark and you hurry back outside right as the title music starts playing.

Your stranger is the only guest tonight.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Now

You run. You run so fast that your lungs are burning in the cold night air. There is no palpable explanation for why you feel so panicked. For most of your way home you’ve felt almost paranoid in your constant fear of being followed. You felt like someone was watching you right from the start but when you came close to the woods your instincts just told you to run. By now, your legs carry you almost automatically despite the fatigue in your limbs. There is a tiny voice in your head that tells you you’re in danger. Big danger.

Halfway through the forest, the track gets steeper. Less feet have trampled it flat as the usual walking path ends and you struggle to keep up your pace. Unsettling noises grow louder to your right – panting, hurried steps, moans and whimpers. Two seconds later you suddenly hear an echoing growl that puts any wolf to shame. Your head whips around but before you can make out anything in the pitch dark your foot gets caught on a root. The impact is suffocating. Your lungs empty out and you think you’re choking on nothing. Only after a long moment in which you struggle for breath do you feel the sharp pain in your arm where it hit a rock, warm blood seeping into your sleeve until its wet and sticky.

Meanwhile, the steps hurry closer and even in the full moon light it’s hard to tell where you are right now. But then you see the trees swaying at the edge of the path and all you know is that you need to keep going. Everything hurts but you manage to get to your feet. As the world sways around you, you leave the safety of the trail in favour of the cover of the trees, their canopy shielding you from the moonlight and hopefully any following eyes.

But of course the creature chasing you doesn’t rely on their vision to find you. Before you walk another mile you can hear rapid footsteps and panting breaths behind you. Too scared to look around and risk another fall, you just run and jump and run even faster. The woods grow thicker, harder to navigate. You try to fish for your phone but when you finally pull it out, it slips from your grasp. “Fuck fuck fuck,” you mutter but you keep running. You can’t stop.

A familiar boulder appears somewhere in your peripheral vision and you wonder if you’re running in circles. You’re so lost. Even if the creature doesn’t get you, you’re doomed. But the thought is distant as a branch strikes you in the face like a whip. You run but more fallen branches block your path and as you try to jump, you get caught.

A shriek tears from your throat, so loud and drawn-out that your voice gives out before it ends. The steps are so close now that you know you’re going to get caught any second now. Cowering, trying to get as small as possible, you slowly shift around, ready to beg for mercy. An enormous shadow sprints towards you and suddenly, a bright streak of moonlight falls through the trees. You cry out again as your eyes take in the sight: Spit-coated fangs, claws, thick rough fur on what you can only describe as a giant made of muscles and the horrors of the night. Its facial features look familiar, shaggy hair falling into its cruel eyes. Whatever it is has no merciful bone in its body, that much you can tell. This is your death, you realise. This is it.

But before you feel the fangs sink into your skin or the claws tear you open, the monster loses balance. All you can see is a vague human-like figure pushing it aside into the shadows with a strength that is impossible to comprehend, two tall silhouettes wrestling for a moment before the huge hairy creature lets out a bone-chilling scream. The giant body slumps in on itself, lifeless, silent. You breathe in gasps, swallowing air that does nothing to calm you down. You fall over, sobbing silently in short-lived relief.

The monster is dead. But you’re not alone.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Three weeks ago

“So, are you a big movie fan?” the stranger had asked you today when you served him his whiskey. He always orders something now, almost like knowing you serve him permanently changed his ’no thank you’-attitude. Whenever you bring him his order he asks you questions and you end up chatting with him for longer than you should.

“Oh, I like them, yes, but the reason I work here, if that’s why you’re asking, is that it’s one of the few jobs I can do on weekends that pays extra for night shifts.”

“So do you have a day job as well?” he asks, taking his first sip. He’s wearing all black today, black leather gloves, a black shirt and black tailcoat. The only pop of colour is a red rose that he has tugged into a buttonhole of his open jacket.

“Finishing off my degree,” you explain. “I don’t think I’ll work here after that.”

His brow furrows in surprise. “No?”

You chuckle. “No, it doesn’t pay that well. It doesn’t pay well at all, actually.”

“I see.” He turns the tumbler in his hand, the amber liquid twirling inside. “I have to say I am glad. I do not think he treats you well.”

You glance towards the door but Max seems to be busy behind the counter still. “He’s… okay.”

The stranger huffs out a laugh. “No, è un stronzo.”

The smirk that tugs at your lips is hard to shake off, especially with the way he rolls the R in the word. “Yeah, he is. But I have to pay rent and get groceries, so...”

“I understand.” Another sip, slow, barely coating his lips. “Fiore, I do wonder… what is it that you truly burn for? What would you do if no restrictive invention like money mattered?”

You take a deep breath and then you start to tell him about your real interests, your passions. He listens with the avid attention of someone who genuinely cares, who doesn’t just ask out of mere politeness. It’s addicting, the way his intense eyes are glued to your lips, how his whole body is angled into your direction. You get so lost in his gaze, in your explanation, that you forget yourself for a moment.

“Eh!” Max suddenly calls out from the doorway and you jump at the sound of his voice. “Come over for a second, will you?”

You reluctantly leave the stranger in his armchair with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. Enjoy your movie, sir.”

“I will,” he says. “Thank you, fiorellino.”

Max watches you with a scowl, roughly pulling you aside as soon as you’re within reach. “Do I pay you for chitchat?”

“No, Max, I’m sorry. I just…”

“You just what?” he snaps, clenching his jaw. “Flirting with the old men won’t get you higher tips, it only screams pathetic whore. You think he can still get it up?”

You stay silent, waiting for him to calm down enough to notice the impropriety of his words and actions. The urge to kick him is so hard to fight that you have to actively push your feet harder into the ground. Your fists ache with how hard you’re clenching them.

Eventually he simmers down, smoothing out his shirt as he clears his throat. “Anyway, you need to clean up again today. The cleaner still hasn’t shown up.”

“What happened?” you ask.

He shrugs but it’s an ingenuine, uncaring gesture. “Apparently she ran away or something. She’s been missing for a while.”

Missing? Wasn’t she anemic? Before you can ask any more questions he leaves you standing right there to start the movie. You head back to the register even though you know no other guests are going to be coming in tonight. For the whole duration of the movie, all you do is wait, scrolling on your phone from where you’re hiding it underneath the desk. No local news site is able to tell you anything about the missing cleaner other than the fact that she just left over night exactly a week ago and hasn’t been found ever since.

“Oh, did we miss the movie?”

You look up to see two men strolling into the lobby. They sway slightly, probably drunk, and smoke despite the big no-smoking sign at the entrance that’s impossible to miss. They look familiar in how unremarkable they appear, one is blond, the other one dark-haired, jeans and crumpled t-shirts betraying their status even though they move with the confident audacity only mediocre white men have.

“Yes, I’m sorry. The movie is almost over,” you say. “By the way, you’re not allowed to smoke in here, sir.”

“Are you off soon, then, sweetheart?” the blond one asks, taking another drag of his cigarette

“No, I have to clean up.”

“Ah, cleaning up… whatever, can’t be that dirty in there, huh?” He grins. “Unless… we make it dirty.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, a feisty one!” the dark-haired man says. “That’s how you treat your customers?”

“You haven’t bought anything.”

They whistle almost in unison, though their tunes are slightly off-key. This is not the first time this happens, it’s not even the first time these exact men show up here and try to harass you.

“Come on, maybe you can show us where you keep the liquor?” the blond man asks. “Have a drink with us?”

“I don’t think so, sir. If you don’t want to buy anything, I have to ask you to leave.” You try to stay polite, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “Please.”

He chuckles, tries to round the counter to touch you but there is a sudden shift in atmosphere. It’s almost like all of the warmth is sucked from the room, like the charged air of a thunderstorm is crackling inside its walls. The men seem to feel it too because they suddenly stop in their movements, giving each other nervous glances.

“You were asked to leave, signori, no?”

You look up to find your stranger entering the lobby. The movie must have ended because the lights are on again and he looks so menacing that even you feel a chill running down your spine. His white eye glimmers dangerously, the other one shimmering almost red now but it could be a trick of lighting. They’re narrowed, the skull paint and severity of his features giving him the air of a predator. When the blond man takes another step into your direction, out of spite or stupidity you’re not quite sure, the stranger is on him in a second. You’re surprised by how agile he appears in his age, wondering briefly if he just looks older than he is or if you’re just prejudiced. But the man backs away immediately, joining his buddy by the door. A second later Max enters as well from the backroom, looking mildly irritated but unbothered by the weird atmosphere as he slams the door shut.

“Any issues here?” he asks, taking in the two loiterers.

The men slowly backtrack, holding up their arms in pretend innocence. While the dark-haired one slips out the door, the blond man lingers. “No issue, no. Just had a question about your schedule.”

Max gives a dismissive wave of his hand and when the man is finally gone, he turns to you. “Were you rude to our customers?”

“They weren’t customers,” you say defensively, angry that he’d even assume something like that. “They were drunks.”

“Hmpf.” He gives the stranger another glance, still unimpressed, then grabs his bag from under the counter. “I’m off now. See you tomorrow. And hey, don’t forget to clean and lock up.”

“Yeah, see you,” you say, trying to swallow the lump of anger in your throat.

As soon as Max is gone, the stranger’s whole demeanour changes. His expression softens and he reaches out, his hand hovering right by your arm.

“You are alright, little flower?” he asks.

You nod but it’s hard to fight off the tears. Situations like that make you feel helpless and you hate it. Being at the mercy of these men is frustrating, especially with a boss who just lets it slide instead of protecting his employees. You could have handled the situation, you tell yourself, you’ve had to handle so many similar ones before, but it just feels so incredibly good that someone cares.

“I think so,” you finally choke out. “I just… This is not uncommon and I’m so fed up.”

“I understand,” he says. “Did these men bother you before?”

“Yeah, but other people as well. Even Max treats me like a piece of meat just because I’m young.”

There is a hidden anger in his face, a barely noticeable clench of his jaw, his brow slightly pulled together. You’re not scared anymore, though. The menacing energy he exudes is directed at something else, not you, and you can’t bring yourself to wonder how he manages to command a room like that.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” he asks.

You nod and he reaches out, running a gloved hand up and down your arm in silent comfort. You take a step closer and he lifts his other hand as well, gently cradling your cheek. When a fat tear of anger falls from your eye he catches it, telling you it’s okay if you need to let it out. But you don’t cry, you don’t want to feel weak or fall into his arms like a sobbing child. Nevertheless, his comfort feels like a gentle hug, calming you so easily.

For a moment, he lets you breathe in the same air, a leather-clad thumb swiping over your cheekbone with a calming steadiness. You smile at him and he smiles back, so softly that not even the skull paint can hide the gentleness of his features.

“I have to clean up now,” you say. “Thank you for being here.”

He simply nods, slowly pulling away from you. Only when he’s gone and you smell a faint flowery scent do you notice that he’s tugged the rose from his jacket into your hair. You press it to your chest, right above your fluttering heart, and pray that he never stops coming back.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Their blood tastes like shit.

Not literally but it’s by far the worst he’s had in a while, certainly worse than that of the cleaning lady he’s been feeding on last month. Admittedly, he did not consider that losing her would prompt your boss to just make you work longer. At the time she was just an easy victim on his way home, sweet young blood that was easy to obtain, the blue veins shining through her pale skin like they were begging to be used. But as he cleans his jaw with a handkerchief, Primo thinks that perhaps he can linger after the movies now. Any more time with you, however long, is of immeasurable value to him.

A groan. Primo looks down at the man, the blond stronzo who tried to touch you. He feels no sympathy, no reluctance. Full moon rolls around in three weeks and if they happen to die before then… well, bad luck for his partner. Though he can’t say he’s very tempted to drink from them again with all the junk in their blood – cheap alcohol, so much nicotine and other poisons. Perhaps he should just end it now, they’re at his mercy in any case. But no, they deserve to be punished for what they did and he knows bleeding out is not a very painful death.

Primo is not a cruel man, he likes to think. The nature of his being prompts him to act cruelly sometimes for self-preservation but unlike some of his fellows he finds no enjoyment in the kill. Not anymore, not after his initial lust for blood was quenched centuries ago. Nevertheless, he has to admit that his obsession with you is testing those limits in ways he’s never felt before. For you, he thinks, he could turn into a killer.

A gurgle. The second man is starting to wake up and Primo decides to leave. He placed the wounds in unobtrusive spots, never using both fangs to puncture their skin, too obvious. They’re going to think they’re hungover and move on but he’s going to find them again, slowly drain them until the next full moon is here and they’ll find their demise in a different way.

Primo is not a killer, no, but he chooses the killer’s victims.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Now

You’re frozen in your spot amongst the thicket, branches and rocks digging into your body, the throbbing pain in your arm slowly spreading out. The sight before you is absurd. A giant dead body, a monster, a… a werewolf? You can’t bring yourself to properly think the word and yet you know that’s what it is. Not that it matters anymore. The smell of death mixes in with the earthy scent of the woods and spreads out in the air around you. The second figure hovers above the body for as long as it takes you to gather your thoughts. Why, you cannot tell. Are they shocked by their actions? Making sure the creature is really dead? There seems to be a hesitation in their every movement as they slowly back away and move into your direction, their frame blurring with the surrounding darkness.

“Stand back,” you yell. “Don’t come closer!”

Your voice is high-pitched, unrecognisable in its trembling state, hoarse from screaming into the emptiness around you. Your fear has your senses heightened and every snap of a twig, every howl of the wind makes you flinch. The being before you now is smaller than the one before, human-shaped if your eyes don’t betray you. The canopy is so thick here, the trees surrounding you so close to one another that you struggle to see anything. And yet you can feel them moving.

“Stop,” you yell again. “Fucking stop!”

A sudden sliver of light catches their face and you can see two glowing eyes, the one that you know as a deep green shimmering red like it did in the lobby of the theatre the night the two men harassed you and the other one is still as white as bone. “It’s okay, fiore mio. You’re safe now,” he says and you immediately recognize the Italian accent, the nickname. “I’m here to help you.”

You slump in on yourself, not quite relieved but still a little calmer.

It’s him. It’s your stranger.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Two weeks ago

“It’s nothing personal,” Max says. “But I’m losing money here.”

You nod like you understand. You do understand, just not why it has to be now of all times, so close to when you would have been done anyway. A few more months.

“Just not enough people coming in,” he continues. “And the old guy doesn’t pay that much no matter how often you flirt him up.”

Again, all you can do is nod. Your boss wants to cancel the night showings and lay you off. Supposedly, no other shifts are in need of any more people and he can’t keep you on. It’s a cheap excuse, you know it is.

“So, I’m off then,” he says. “You can manage on your own one last time, right?”

You nod at him once again, watching him whistling a merry tune and twirling his keys on a finger on his way out. The tears come only after you hear his car driving off. You have no idea how to find another weekend job for the next few months and the sheer surprise of his decision has your stomach in knots. If he’d at least given you some time to prepare…

“Buonasera, fiore. Can I… uhm…” You look up into the stranger’s eyes, trying to wipe at your tears but it’s too late, his expression has already changed into what you can only assume is pity. “Scusi, is this a bad time? Can I help you, perhaps?”

“I’m so sorry… I just… Ugh, Max wants to cancel the late night screenings,” you explain, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “I guess this is our last night here.”

“Cancel?”

You sniffle, your voice scratchy when you speak next. “Well, as you may have noticed, you’re kind of our only guest.”

The stranger takes your hand, soft leather pulling you from the desk and towards one of the run-down couches in the waiting area. He’s so gentle when he beckons you to his side, never letting go of your hand.

“He wants to fire you, sì?”

You nod, staring at your intertwined hands against the velvet upholstering of the couch. His thumb draws lazy circles into your skin, his hand so big it almost swallows yours. You want him to swallow you as well, his whole body wrapped around yours, engulfing you with his safety – but you’re not sure that you could ask him for a hug.

“I’m sorry, it’s really not your problem. I mean, you’ll lose your weekend activities but I’m sure you can just get Netflix or something.”

“Netflix?”

You look up with a smile. “Or… I don’t know, buy a DVD.”

The stranger smiles back, squeezing your hand just a little bit tighter. “Now, my little flower, do you really think I am just here for the movies?”

When your eyes meet it’s like you’re sucked into a vacuum. You don’t know whether to focus on his white iris or the burning need that’s visible in his green eye. The decision is taken from you when he leans in and captures your mouth in a kiss. You reciprocate without hesitation and yet he’s holding back, a suppressed moan bubbling in his throat, despite the tenderness of his lips. It’s not enough, not nearly enough. You press against him, opening your lips for him, and then the moan finally spills out as his tongue vibrates against yours. His free hand pushes into your hair and settles at the back of your head, angling your face in whichever way he wants to taste you. His lips feel surprisingly cold just like his cheek as you bring a hand up to touch him. The makeup smears under your fingers, at your jaw, mingling with your spit.

And yet it’s not enough, not until you’re half in his lap, until his hands roam your body with reverent desperation, searching, exploring. The kiss never loses momentum. He sucks in a breath and you push your tongue into his mouth, running it along his upper lip until you can feel his teeth. You frown into the kiss when you feel something pointy, pulling your tongue back, but there is no time to think before he sucks at your bottom lip. A sharp sting as he punctures your flesh with his teeth. He moans as the taste of your blood settles between your joined lips, sucking whatever he can into his mouth. You allow him to drink you in, offering yourself up in a way you haven’t done with anyone else before.

There is a moment in which you think, hope, that it never ends. But then he pulls away and you gasp for air. You stare at him, traces of red blood fuzing into the grey smears around his mouth. He’s a mess, equal to how you feel, but his eyes are focused, his gaze sharp.

“Do you want to see the movie?” you ask, hoping he’ll say no, hoping he’ll just take you away.

But he just chuckles, his hands slowly disappearing from your body until you slump into the soft cushions on the couch.

“Actually, I think I have to leave early tonight,” he says. “I will see you next week, fiore mio. Please, per favore, do not worry about your job, I will set things right.”

You want to ask what he means, if he’s going to talk to Max for you, but before you realise that he’s leaving, before you even finish blinking, he’s already gone. Furrowing your brow, you walk outside and enter a clear moonless night. Your flushed face soaks up the cool air and you look around, searching feverishly, but there is no sign of your stranger. You expect to see him along the sidewalk, perhaps he’s in one of the cars getting ready, but even after a few more minutes none of them roar to life. Nothing disrupts the soft silence of your sleeping small town and you shake your head in wonder as you make your way back inside, the metallic taste of your blood still lingering on your tongue.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Primo is livid, furious in a way that he hasn’t felt in close to a hundred years. You are not part of their deal and yet this feels like a violation of conduct. Making you cry should be a criminal offense and he wants him to pay for it, in what currency Primo is not sure yet. He knows he can’t let his anger win but when he smells the creature from two streets away, even in his human form, he’s ready to sink his teeth into his throat. And of course he finds him in a nearby bar, nursing a beer while he watches football videos on his phone without a care in the world.

“You won’t fire them,” Primo spits out.

Max looks up in pretend confusion. “Huh?”

“You heard me, stronzo.”

“Your little flower?” He pouts, mocking him, then huffs out a laugh. “It’s business, man.”

“The job is important,” Primo says calmly, trying not to get too riled up. “A few more months.”

“Cry me a river. Just do with them what you want, fuck them, suck them dry. Whatever gets your blood pumping, Count Dracula.” A sardonic smirk. “Oh oops, I forgot.”

Primo won’t be provoked, not from the likes of him. “You’ll give them time,” he says calmly. “Or I have to rethink this… agreement.”

Max sighs in annoyance. “Fine. A little longer. And don’t think I haven’t smelled you on those two assholes yet. I only get to feast once a month and I expect the vampire to have better taste, that’s why I agreed to this in the first place.”

“I do have taste,” Primo says. “And we both know that’s not the reason or why are you sitting here all alone, lupetto, eh?”

Max snarls but says nothing to this painful reminder. Primo doesn’t feel bad. Their agreement serves the sole purpose of attracting less attention and would not work if Max wasn’t an outcast. Their solitariness saves them and keeps their peace intact. For now.

Primo leaves with an aching heart, hoping the werewolf stays true to his word. He comes back to the cinema only to see that you got done in the meantime and left. It’s not like he actually planned to continue what you started earlier but he really wants to catch another glimpse of you, see how you’re feeling after what happened.

He finds you two streets away, hurrying home even faster than usual. You’re scared, he can tell immediately as he hears your rapid heartbeat, the blood rushing through your body like a raging river. Since the two men tried to corner you you’ve been especially on edge. He knows it’s because you expect them to try again and he wishes he could tell you that they won’t, that he’s watching over you, that he’s been slowly draining them ever since despite the awful taste of their blood. He can handle it, he can handle anything if it’s for you.

Only for you.

Primo relaxes after he sees you closing the door to your apartment and your heartbeat slows down. That’s when he leaves – always. He’s promised himself that he never lingers, that he doesn’t stalk or overstep, only makes sure you get home safely after your shifts. Tonight, it’s harder to leave. He can still taste you on his tongue and what a taste it is. Never before has he savoured blood quite so sweet, quite so rich in aroma, and the violent hunger inside of him tries to keep him by your house for more.

But the kiss was a mistake to begin with and he’s not sure yet how to proceed because he never expected you to respond quite so enthusiastically to his advances. Of course he could immediately tell that you wanted him, the smell and taste of your excitement so overpowering that it cut off any reasonable thought while it happened. He hasn’t lost control of himself like that in over two hundred years and now he set things in motion that may cost him this precious connection that he has with you if he’s not careful.

For now, however, he allows himself this small pleasure and lets the happy, giddy feeling settle in his hollow chest. If he wasn’t aware that he was a few centuries old he would promptly assume that he’s a lovestruck teenager. And he could get used to it, he realises, because with you he’s quite ready to start this empty life all over again and fill it with everything that he’s been missing.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Now

“You’re a vampire,” you state, twigs and stones digging into your butt but you feel to weak to stand up.

The stranger approaches you slowly like you’re a wild animal he’s trying to tame, the roles reversed now in your agitation and his calmness. “I am, sì.”

The urge to back away, to run for your life, continues to simmer in your belly but you fight it because you know there is no escape now. You want to trust him but you feel like you’re in a fever dream. It has to be a hallucination, maybe you were drugged at work today, maybe you inhaled the fume of some rare mushroom when you fell.

Your eyes meet the dead creature again. “Is he-”

“Yes, Max is dead.”

“Max?” Your shrill voice betrays your shock. “My boss?”

“Yes.” He sounds oddly calm, not like he just killed a werewolf. “Please, allow me to take you home with me.”

“Home? Your home?”

“Yes, my little flower. I want to look at your scrapes and cuts. Allow me, please.”

You hesitate, even as you see the shape of his outstretched hand, the same black leather gloves now ripped and torn, revealing slivers of his pale skin.

“I understand you don’t… trust me,” he says. “But I promise, I will explain everything to you in as much detail as you want and then you can decide for yourself. I just want to make sure you are okay first.”

You swallow, your throat still painfully sore from screaming. “Are you going to… I don’t know, drink from me? Eat me?”

“I will not eat you. And I will not drink from you either,” he says. “All I want is to look after you.”

You suck in a deep breath, ready to collapse on the forest floor. He could lure you into a trap, he could have been plotting this for weeks now, and yet you still feel the butterflies in your belly stirring at the sound of his voice, your body aching to be with his, even now in its weak state. Reluctantly, you place your mud-smeared hand in his and when he lifts you up with ease, his arms wrap around you tightly. You have no strength to lift your arms but you let him hug you anyway, slumping against his frame.

And perhaps you’ve lost your mind. Perhaps you should use the opportunity to kick him, to fight, but instead you start to sob into his shoulder. The world you thought you knew comes crashing down around you and he holds you through it, whispering that it’s going to be alright.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

One week ago

You can’t stop thinking about him.

The week passes slowly but you do get a text message from Max telling you he’s extending your employment for as long as it takes you to find a new job. You have no idea how your stranger convinced him but you never wanted to get back to work so urgently before – to thank him, to ask if there is a chance that you could see him outside of this place.

Any thought you can spare is spent thinking back to your kiss, extending it in your mind for hours and hours, exploring the fantasy alone in your bed at night with your hand between your legs. You ignore any of the worries that this intimate moment conjured up. So what if the stranger has a bit of a blood kink and conveniently sharp teeth? You certainly don’t mind doing it again. He can bite you wherever he wants, you realise, and you’d gladly let him suck on the wound.

He’s back Friday night and you can’t help but feel relieved that he’s not ghosting you after his sudden disappearance last week. Maybe it’s because of your intense crush on him but you swear he looks more beautiful tonight than ever before. His long blond hair is shiny and smooth as it falls into his face, the paint more pristine than usual. He’s wearing his usual black slacks but today he paired it with a deep red shirt under a black tailcoat with a red pattern of embroidered roses. His tall, slender frame leans against the counter as he regards you with a smile.

“So, what am I watching tonight?” he asks.

“Hitchcock,” you say. “The Birds. Max is a big fan.”

“Hm, I haven’t watched that one since it premiered,” he says and then he removes his gloves. You watch as he slides his now bare hand over the counter until it touches yours.

“Well, I’m afraid I wasn’t born yet back then.”

“No, fiore.” He runs his thumb over the back of your hand. His skin is cold and pale and wrinkly, the lines and bumps revealing a map of his life that you can’t wait to explore. His long fingers slide under yours, surprisingly sharp black nails raking over your palm until he holds you comfortably. They look almost manicured, his hand dwarfing yours as he closes it. “You’re such a young thing and yet our souls have found such a deep connection, no?”

You gaze into his mismatched eyes, a fondness in them that makes your heart beat faster. As if he can feel it, the corners of his painted mouth curl upwards into a smirk until you can see the crow’s feet under his eyes deepen despite the dark paint.

“Yes,” you finally say. “Actually, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to–”

You’re interrupted by the door to the backroom opening. You jump, pulling your hand from his as you see Max casting you a curious glance. He’s been in a bad mood all evening so you’re not taking any risks tonight.

You cough. “Ugh, here’s your ticket, sir. Enjoy the movie.”

The stranger doesn’t seem offended by your reaction. Instead he smiles at you, accepting the ticket from your shaky hand. “Grazie, fiore. I will let you know if I enjoyed it.”

As he leaves for the screening room he doesn’t even look at Max. You remain frozen behind the counter, watching his elegant form with a rapidly beating heart. Mindlessly clenching the hand he just held in his, you desperately hope you get to ask your question later.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

The werewolf won’t leave earlier tonight. As he lets the movie run in the background, only vaguely paying attention, Primo listens for any signs. It looks like he has to sit it out today, though, even as his patience slowly wears thin. One more week until full moon, so Max must be getting antsy, and Primo made sure to keep the prey alive despite his protests in the bar. Every time he feeds from them, he is tempted to bite into an artery instead of a vein, watch them bleed out, not even drinking their blood. But having Max go hungry will piss him off and since he is already aware of you, Primo can’t risk not providing him with any easier targets.

After the movie concludes, Primo lingers but he doesn’t spot you in the foyer. When Max finally heads out he sees no reason not to look for you and conveniently, the only place you could be at is especially private.

The backroom houses a tiny kitchenette and two desks for computers with displays that are already black. You’re standing in front of the open door of a supply closet to gather your cleaning materials when he approaches soundlessly.

“Don’t be scared,” he says from a safe distance. “It is just me, fiore.”

You spin around, your beautiful face lighting up at the sight of him. “Oh, hello.”

“I owe you the money for the ticket,” he says. “You never gave me a chance to pay.”

“Oh. Yes. Sorry… It’s not… I’m not embarrassed or anything, it’s just that Max…”

“Oh, it is quite alright, fiore mio, I know.”

A grateful smile. You don’t flinch when he steps in front of you, taking your hand in his to press a soft kiss to your palm. How lovely you are, Primo thinks, a pure, honest sort of beauty that he doesn’t deserve but wants with every fibre of his ancient being. He could show you a whole new world of pleasure and he knows it’s always the quiet ones who are so proficient in the art of sin.

“I was hoping I would have some more time with you,” you say and he perks up.

“Were you?”

“The kiss…” A hint of red dusting your cheeks as you fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “I really enjoyed it.”

Primo can’t help but smile. “Me too, my little flower. Perhaps we should try it again?”

He can hear your heartbeat quickening at his words, can feel your skin heating up with the rush of your blood. Even now he is surprised by the evidence of your returned affections, struck by how perfect you are for him, your trust just another sign of hope that you can find it in you to love him back if he allows you to.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop,” he says and then he effortlessly pulls you into his arms. To his surprise, you kiss him first, standing on your tiptoes and melting into his body. Your mouth is insistent, soft and sweet and so eager for him. Primo’s hands explore the shape of your body, memorising your curves for eternity. Impatient now, he pulls you over to the kitchenette that consists of nothing but a mirror over a sink with a few cupboards housing a coffee machine and snacks. There is enough space for what he’s planning to do, though, and he grabs you tightly before he removes his tongue from your mouth.

He can’t see his own image in the old silvered mirror as he hoists you up but he can see the dips of his fingers in your ass as it hits the counter. You hold onto his shoulders as he kisses down your jaw and chin. He skips your neck, skips the temptation, and drags his mouth down your chest instead, ripping the button of your shirt open as he goes. No complaint leaves your lips, only soft gasps and tiny whimpers. Primo pauses to pull at his gloves and then at your pants and then at your underwear, impatient, urgent, until he can finally feel your hot skin burning against his fingertips. Goosebumps form where his cold hands touch you and you shiver against his palms.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please.”

He knows what you’re begging for and under different circumstances he might make you beg until your voice gives out but with the smell of your arousal in his nose there is really no way he can hold back now. His hands on your hips pull you to the edge of the counter and he kneels between your thighs, placing two open-mouthed kisses that leave blotchy grey marks. Your eyes are half-lidded, hazy with lust as he gazes up at you and that’s enough to break his resolve. As he wraps his lips around your most sensitive spot, sucking gently, your head lolls back in pleasure. You’re so hot, so sensitive, reacting to even the softest of stimulations, and it’s addicting in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

You cling to the edge of the counter as his mouth works on you with violent passion, urging you higher and higher with his lips and his tongue, carefully avoiding his teeth. The taste of your arousal is so intoxicating that he can’t stop himself from moaning and he can feel a shudder tearing through your body. Primo increases his pace and you move your hips as well, following his rhythm and chasing your pleasure without shame.

You cum with a scream. Your hand digs into his hair, tugging, holding on with surprising force and it’s the most delicious pain he’s ever felt. He runs his fingers through your cum, licking them clean with a soft hum as he tastes you once again. But he needs more, he needs so much more–

“Do you want to come home with me?” you ask breathlessly as he gets up from his knees, the pain in his joints distracting him momentarily. “Spend the rest of the night?”

He looks at you in surprise but then a soft smile forms on his face. You’re so eager, so fearless. “You should be careful who you invite into your home,” he says. “You may find yourself hosting guests other’s would not deem welcome.”

You huff out a laugh. “What, like the devil?”

A chuckle and he presses a kiss to your forehead, longing to feel your warm skin on his cool lips again. “I wish I could, fiorellino, but I’m afraid my schedule is a little different from yours.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means we have to do this another time,” he explains, despite the painful tightness in his pants. “Preferably, I want to invite you to dinner. I don’t like that we did this in here, it is not very… classy. Maybe next Saturday?”

“Oh, okay sure,” you say, a hint of confusion crossing your face. “Of course.”

He stands to his full height, his frame towering above yours and it takes him every ounce of self-control not to just take you right here. You’re pliant, needy for him in ways he’s only ever dreamed of, and while it tempts him to no end he suddenly becomes painfully aware of his responsibility. He needs to get your full consent before he gives in to a possible relationship with you. But right now is not the moment to tell you what he is.

“This… this is not you turning me down, right?” you ask with wide, hopeful eyes.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Oh no, tesorino, this is just the start of what I want to do with you and now that I got a taste, I don’t think I will ever get enough.”

You smile, the bliss of your high still evident on your face, and he rubs your thighs in small circles for a moment, the softness of your skin a gentle reminder of how fragile you are. Primo leans in to kiss you and fights a grin when you lick into his mouth to taste yourself. Maybe not so fragile, he thinks, maybe your hunger matches his after all.

“I will see you next Saturday, fiore mio,” he says. “I’ll be here to pick you up and we can dine at my home.”

You nod tiredly and he feels bad for leaving you like this after what just transpired. He can smell your cum on his fingers even as he waits for you to finish work and probably will for the next few days. But Primo needs to collect his thoughts. This is the start of something big, something messy, and now that he tampered with the forces there is no going back. The regret that comes with it is excruciating. He can invite you to dinner, treat you like you’re the stars in the night sky, make love to you until you both pass out in exhausted bliss – but it won’t change what he is. And what he is might scare you off. The thought pains him but he tries to cling to the small shimmering light of hope inside his heart that perhaps you can accept him.

Until he figures out the logistics of having you over for dinner without giving you the scare of a lifetime, he decides to keep away from you. The temptation is too strong now, his need, his hunger, a quickly expanding black-hole inside of him that might eat you alive if he’s not careful.

His resolve is strong, he tells himself, and it remains strong all week. Well, that is until he sees you running into the woods a mere day before your date, chased by a starving werewolf.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

Now

He lives in the old castle at the edge of town.

It really shouldn’t come as a surprise but as he carries you through candle-lit hallways and multiple small chambers, old is the last thing that comes to your mind. Everything looks well-kept, orderly, the old-fashioned style of his attire translating to the interior as well. You never stay in any room for too long, the castle so big that you have to climb several staircases until you reach another long hallway. Several men in black hooded robes that look like monk’s habits pass you on your way. They don’t turn into your direction as you pass, some of them carry books, some carry laundry.

“Who are these men?” you ask.

“They’re my ghouls.”

“Ghouls?”

“Mhm.”

You don’t ask any further questions but cling to your stranger’s neck even though there is no need to. You’re safe in his arms, his strength limitless, and he does not seem tired even as you finally enter a chamber that appears to be his bedroom. Big arched windows make up one whole wall of the room and a double glass door that seems to lead to a balcony. The only light source is the full moon outside, casting milky white rays through the old windows. A huge wooden bed with silky white sheets dominates the room from the centre, most of the old hardwood flooring covered by a burgundy rug with a floral pattern, two chests of drawers lining the opposite wall as well as a desk covered in what seems to be his correspondence.

“You’re safe here, my flower,” he says as he sets you down on the bed. “I promise.”

You sit, watch him as he kneels down beside you. His face is nothing but kind, so full of concern and affection, but you can’t help but feel out of place. Knowing what he is now, while it doesn’t change the core of your feelings, still circles in your mind and you have to fight your disbelief.

“You still hesitate?” he asks.

“Are you reading my mind?”

“No, fiore, I do no such thing.” He takes your hand, covering it with his broad ones. “I would not abuse your trust, even if I could. And we have trust, no?”

“I feel like I can trust you,” you admit, tears of overwhelm pricking your eyes. “But I don’t really know anything about you. I don’t even know your name.”

“Primo.”

You exhale and let the word roll off your tongue. “Primo.”

He smiles at the sound of it, a soft, recognising smile, as if he hasn’t been called by that name in a long time. “All I ask is that you let me look after you right now, sì? I will explain and we can talk in depth later, amore.”

“Amore?”

His brow softens, giving his smile a sad quality. “My affections for you have not changed. Though I do fear that yours might have.”

You shake your head at him but before you can say anything profound, two of the black hooded ghouls enter the room. Another one joins right after, rolling a big copper bathtub inside, and you don’t even question their magic when they lift their arms and the tub fills with water. One of the other ghouls lifts his hands as well and suddenly the water starts to steam. The third ghoul places a piece of soap and a washcloth on a nearby stool, then hangs a soft-looking cotton bathrobe over the edge before they all leave without uttering a single word.

Primo helps you out of your shirt and you gasp when you see the blood covering your forearm. The bleeding has stopped but the scrape is still burning, the pain a distant throb. When he sees it, his gaze hardens but he just leads you to stand without any commentary, helping you undress, radiating tension and concern.

“It is okay that I am here?” he asks when he sees you unbutton your pants.

You nod in reply. After everything that happened you can’t say that you feel very embarrassed being naked in front of him and you feel safer in his presence, safer when he helps you.

The water is scalding and you have to take a moment to get used to it before you can fully let the heat ease the tension you hadn’t even noticed before. Primo pulls up a chair, sitting right by your head, and picks up the cloth. You watch his brow furrow in concentration when he cleans your cuts and scrapes and his eyes meet yours a few times throughout, gazing at you with barely hidden hope. You want to tell him that your feelings are the same, if not stronger, but you can’t find it in you to disturb the silence with anything other than the occasional hiss when he touches a painful spot. It feels too fresh still, too many uncertainties plaguing your mind.

Once you’re clean and the water has cooled significantly, Primo helps you out and immediately wraps the soft cotton robe around you. As you sit back down on the bed, he walks over to his desk and fetches a small brown leather bag. Inside, you find multiple small vials in different colours and an antiseptic that looks just like any modern ones. He uses a cotton pad to clean out your wound before he grabs one of the small bottles, holding it out for you to see.

“Let me apply this to your cut,” he says. “It’s a tonic, it will help you heal.”

You roll up your sleeve to grant him access. “So, are you a healer of some sort?”

“Well, I am more of a pharmacist.” He chuckles and lets a small amount of the white liquid drop onto your arm. “Not a doctor.”

“It feels good,” you admit, the cool tincture sticks to your wound, easing the pain.

Primo smiles and wraps a bandage around your arm, tight but not too tight, like he’s done it a hundred times before. You can’t help but stare at him, his eyes and his whole face so beautiful and mesmerising, barely hiding his emotions in the depths of his features. When he catches your gaze, he tugs his hair behind his ear like he’s flustered and you spot a small cut above his left brow.

“He got you as well,” you say, grabbing a new cotton pad and reaching out for his face.

“It’s nothing, it will be gone within the hour,” he replies but he still lets you clean the scratch with careful dabs. “I suppose that I am not as powerful as I need to be to truly protect you.”

“What do you mean? You seemed very powerful to me earlier.”

“I am not ugh… how do you say? In my best years.”

You furrow your brow. “I always thought vampires stayed young forever.”

“Well, you see, I was turned well into my old age. I am not as strong and agile as someone who is born with it or turned earlier in their life,” he explains. “Usually, vampires do not like old blood, they prefer the young and healthy. But mine was… very hungry and very cruel.”

You lean over and press a kiss to his shoulder. “Is it painful to talk about this?”

“No, fiore mio, this was many centuries ago.” He regards you with caution, letting his eyes roam your body for a moment. “Do you feel better?”

“I do.” You reach out for his hand again, fiddling with his long, spindly fingers. “So are we… I mean, do you want me to stay here?”

“Yes, I do.”

“But we won’t…”

“No, I will not touch you intimately again before we speak,” he says, squeezing your fingers. “But perhaps you need some rest before we do. You can sleep in my bed, amore. The sheets are fresh.”

The exhaustion is too strong to fight for much longer, he’s right in that, and you crawl under the sheets, careful not to strain your arm. The silky material feels cool and soft against your skin but you keep the robe on for some warmth. Primo sits by your side, watching you with the fascination of a scientist observing the bacteria in his petri dish. You wonder when he last spent time with a human like this, if he was ever intimate with a human before, but that is a question for another time.

Instead you smile at him. “Do you want to join me? Or do vampires not rest?”

“Are you sure you want me to?”

“I would really like you to hold me,” you admit.

He visibly fights off a happy smile as he rounds the bed, shedding his clothes until he’s only in his pants and his white frilly shirt. Hesitating at the edge of the bed he pulls off the shirt as well and you can’t help but stare as he reveals his pale chest to you, speckled with light grey hair that runs all the way down to his waistband. He’s slender, bony around his ribs but with muscular shoulders and a soft belly, his slightly saggy skin the only real sign of his body’s physical age. You wonder how long he has now looked exactly like that. Centuries he’d said but that is a surreal thought you don’t quite grasp.

When he finally joins you in bed, you sink into his embrace, feeling his cool skin against your cheek as you rest your head on his chest. It’s odd, the quiet, the lack of a heartbeat, but with his fingers running along your spine, his nails scratching softly against your skin, you’re lulled to sleep in no time.

⛧ ✦ ⛧

You wake up in cold sweat – and alone. The bed is empty but you immediately spot Primo with a glance through the wide arched windows. He’s right outside the now open double doors you saw earlier, wearing a heavy, dark red robe, his blond hair softly swaying in the wind. You rise from the silken sheets and grab his wide shirt that lies as a puddle on the floor. The frills cover your hands when you slip it on and it’s long enough to cover you, his smell still clinging to the fabric and tickling your nose as you breathe in the fresh night air.

The doors don’t lead to a balcony like you initially assumed but to a small garden, surrounded by the castle walls and illuminated by the full moon. You have no idea how long you slept but it seems to be the middle of the night. You don’t take the time to fully admire the garden, instead wrapping your arms around Primo and burying your face in his back.

“Oh fiore, did I wake you?” he asks, covering your hands with his.

“No,” you whisper. “I’m not tired anymore.”

“Come here.”

He wraps you up in his robe, pressing you tightly to his chest. You feel his lips ghosting over your forehead, then he presses them more firmly to your temple. His skin feels smooth and you turn your head enough to take in the surrounding area.

“What were you admiring?” you ask, your eyes caught on a plant that’s blooming despite the lack of daylight, long white blossoms opening themselves towards the night sky.

“Datura,” Primo explains. “They call it the devil’s trumpet. Highly poisonous. Many night-blooming plants are but of course they offer more to see to me than others.”

You smile. “The rose you gave me, was it from your garden as well?”

“Yes.”

He hugs you tighter and the pressure on your arm brings back enough pain to make you hiss in surprise. Primo tenses and you look up, only to find him staring at you with his brows drawn together. His anger isn’t directed at you and yet you feel a hint of anxiety. You know you won’t like the conversation you’re stearing towards.

“It’s my fault,” he says. “You’re hurt because of me.”

You raise a hand to his cheek. “No, no, it’s not. He attacked me.”

“But he attacked you because of my carelessness,” Primo says, leaning into your touch but avoiding your gaze. “I marked you. When we first kissed, I bit your lip and marked you.”

“Marked me for what?”

He swallows as his eyes finally meet yours. “We had an agreement.”

“An agreement? To… to kill people?”

“No, I don’t do the killing,” Primo says. “It is not my style. I am too old for carnage, amore. Or at least I thought I was.”

You furrow your brow, his explanation not helping you understand what he means. “So what is the whole deal with Max?”

“He was a werewolf,” Primo explains. “We ugh… we had this pact, I want to say. My victims, I don’t kill them, I just drink what I need and he… he gets the rest. He can smell me on them, so he knows who to target once he turns and loses most of his rational thinking. When I bit your lip, I must have marked you without my intent.”

You feel your blood rushing through your body now. “So what, he kills your victims?”

“He eats them, sì.”

“So the guys who…” You swallow hard, balling your hands to fists against his chest. “The guys who harassed me who never came back, the cleaner who disappeared… did you…”

“I never said I am innocent. But I did not kill them.” He takes your hand, softly uncurls your fingers before he looks at you with so much sadness that your heart shatters in your chest. “I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me anymore now. I know it is a lifestyle you have to condemn but it is the only way I survive.”

You feel tears welling in your eyes, uncertain whether you can accept the man you love harming other people like this. Of course it keeps him alive but handing them over to be killed is not very different from actually killing them. There has to be a different way, a way without murder.

“If we… if we were together… could you just drink from me instead?” you ask. “No more innocent people?”

“Have you ever donated blood, fiore? They will not let you give it too often, half a litre every three months.” He pauses, smiling sadly as he squeezes your hand. “That is to say… you do not produce blood fast enough. I would either starve or kill you.”

“But you could drink from me? And perhaps a bit from someone else and no one has to die?”

He nods. “I can but you might not like it, you might regret agreeing to this.”

“Try me.”

Primo furrows his brow. “Try you?”

“Show me what it’s like. How does it work? You bite my neck and suck?”

He shakes his head. “I will puncture your vein and drink until the bleeding stops.”

“You won’t suck?”

“Not when it’s you. I will just drink what spills out,” he explains. “Sucking would make the wound very bad, it would hurt you more, even though it is faster and gives me more of you.”

“It’s… it’s okay if you want to suck,” you say. “I want you to do it to satisfy you.”

“No, not this time, but thank you, amore.” A deep sigh as he relents to your request. “Va bene, but if we try this we have to go inside.”

Primo calls one of the ghouls as you settle back in bed and tells him to get you some fruit and a sweet drink for later. You’re buzzing, partly with anxiety but partly with sheer excitement. You remember the intense pleasure you felt when he bit your lip and wonder if this is going to be a similar experience.

As soon as the ghoul is gone again, Primo settles in bed behind you, ridding you of your robe and pulling you between his legs as soon as you are naked. You hold onto his thighs, the fabric of his black slacks rough against your palms.

“I will stop if you tell me to,” he whispers against your ear. “We go easy, I will not drink too much, yes?”

“Yes.”

You sink against his solid chest, unclenching your muscles. His fingers run along your neck, brushing any stray hairs aside and gently positioning your head how he wants it. A moment passes before you feel his lips trailing over the exposed skin, pressing soft kisses to the tendon at your neck that make you shiver.

“Relax,” he mumbles. “No sudden movements, amore.”

You try your best to follow. Primo positions his mouth so very carefully that you almost anticipate the bite. His fangs poke at your skin and he gently increases the pressure until you can feel them puncturing it. The pain is not unexpected but you’re still surprised by the impact, moaning softly. His hands grab at your thighs, a deep groan leaving his throat that vibrates against your skin. You can hardly feel the blood leaving you with how tightly his mouth is attached to the violated skin. At some point, you can feel his tongue swiping along the curve and his grip tightens, long fingers digging into your flesh.

The more he drinks, the more he’s stirring behind you and then he’s suddenly rutting against you in his chase for more friction. You can feel his hard cock against your lower back and you can’t help but grind back against him. Primo stops to moan, his hands roaming your form all the way over your hips and up to your chest. His cold fingers feel heavenly against your heated skin.

“I’m sorry,” he says breathlessly. “Drinking from your… from your love can be a very intense, intimate feeling.”

You hum in agreement and his tongue laps at your neck again, leaving a wet trail all the way from your shoulder to your ear before he attaches his mouth to the wound. He doesn’t drink for long before his hips buck again. Subconsciously, you follow the movements, gripping his thighs so tightly that your fingertips dig into the firm muscles.

“Can you feel it, fiore? Can you feel how our bodies long to become one?”

You only whimper in reply, your head lolling back onto his shoulder as a sick sort of pleasure tears through you, a throbbing need settling in your core.

“I want you,” he says, his voice resonating deep inside of you. “I want you, my love. Will you let me have you?”

“Please,” you whine.

His mouth leaves you altogether. The bleedings has mostly stopped, his spit and your blood cooling against your skin in the still brisk air. Primo slips out from beneath you, urgently pushing the red robe off his shoulders and his pants from his legs before his weight pushes you into the mattress. He settles between your legs, his now bare cock digging into your thigh, and you moan when his bare skin touches yours. He feels warmer now, not hot but definitely more… alive.

“You are the most wonderful thing I have ever seen,” he says and it’s beautifully grotesque, those pretty words leaving such a feral creature after he just drank from you, his face still showing the evidence of his attack.

Your heart clenches with unspoken love for him.

You lift your hand to his jaw, dark red blood dripping from his open mouth and onto your chest. He’s breathing heavily with his fangs bared to you, staring at you in wonder as you cradle his cheek and run your thumb over his skin. His eyes close and there is something so heartbreakingly intimate about the way he’s melting into your touch. A predator, a being who spent centuries on this earth, who hurt and fought and killed for you softens at the mere touch of your fingertips. You’ve never wanted anyone as much as you want him in this moment and you already know that you won’t hesitate to do whatever it takes to be his.

Primo shifts sideways, moving one of his hands between your legs. He probes at your entrance, slowly stretching you open until he can slide two of his fingers into you, careful not to hurt you with his sharp nails. You can see how hard he’s trying to hold back, every muscle in his face clenching. But he holds your gaze, watching your lips part as he curls his fingers, fucking into you until you’re whimpering with every thrust.

“Primo,” you whine.

He nods like understands your need for more but he doesn’t stop yet. Running your hand over his jaw you collect all the blood and spit around his mouth that you can get and reach down to find his hard cock. He gasps at the contact, more blood spilling from his lips and pooling between your bodies. You pump a few times, spreading the wetness, and he unravels, hips bucking into your hand as he moans.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please don’t hold back.”

His pupils dilate and he removes his fingers from you, gathering more blood from your chest to spread on his cock. He aligns himself and slowly pushes in, watching as he his length disappears inside of you. The stretch is incredible. You keen when he bottoms out, one of your hands fisting his hair and then he finally kisses you. The metallic taste of your blood startles you at first but then you can’t help but want more of it, pushing your tongue into his mouth. Primo won’t indulge you for long before you can feel him losing his restraint, battling for dominance over your mouth. He sucks at your tongue as his hips start to move, slow thrusts at first but he quickly loses patience.

His mouth slips from yours as he speeds up, leaving a mess of drool, face paint and cooling blood behind. He drives himself into you without holding back, just like you wanted, his gasps and moans filling your ears over the sound of his wet skin meeting yours. You tug at his hair, wrapping your legs tightly around him to get even closer, spreading the blood all over your bodies. Primo nibbles at your jaw, not breaking the skin but running his teeth along the edge before they settle at your neck again.

“I want more,” he growls against your skin. “I need more, amore mio, please. J-just a little bit.”

In reply, you angle your head to expose your neck to him. He immediately latches on, sucking the wound back open. He was right, it hurts more this time and perhaps it’s a figment of your imagination but you can feel your blood rushing out of you in a way that is dizzying, intoxicating. Everything feels more intense now, the deep thrusts, his sharp nails digging into your flesh, the throaty moans in your ear as he drinks.

You clench around him and the orgasm hits you without warning. You cry out in pleasure, raking your nails down his back as you ride out your high with a few rolls of your hips. Primo falters, his hips stuttering into yours as he approaches his own release. His mouth leaves your neck with a pop and he pants desperately. You’re overcome with emotion when you hear his needy sounds, when you feel him twitching inside of you, so close to letting go. The last few drops of your warm blood run down your clavicle as the wound slowly closes, stopping right at your heart.

“I love you,” you breathe. “I love you, Primo.”

He shudders, his cock jumping wildly inside of you before he freezes, spilling his seed with a deep, drawn-out groan. You hold him through his high, stroking his hair and back. He gives two more slow pumps, drawing out your pleasure until he collapses on top of you.

“I love you, fiore,” he mumbles, then he props himself up on his elbow, staring into your eyes. “I love you.”

A surprisingly gentle kiss. A hand caressing your wet cheeks. Primo rolls you onto your sides and you can feel your mingled cum, blood and sweat glueing your bodies together. It’s messy and sticky but you’re not ready to let him go either. His gaze falls to your bruised neck and he frowns, grazing the skin with his thumb until you groan in pain.

Primo shakes his head in displeasure. “I am sorry, amore. I made it worse.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I wanted it, my love, and I have no regrets.”

“Are you sure?” he asks. “You want all this, fiore? You want this old man?”

You take a deep, shaky breath, your lungs burning and your head still dizzy, but there is not a hint of doubt in your mind. “I want you and all that comes with it. I’m not scared, Primo.”

“No, you’re quite fearless,” he agrees with a smile. “We will have to take care of your wound, clean up this mess, sì? But maybe we can wait a few more minutes, I am quite exhausted.”

You hum in agreement and pull him closer. He doesn’t object as his head comes to rest on your chest this time. The blood loss seems to register now because your vision starts to swim, and so you close your eyes for a moment to let the wave of dizziness pass. Your thoughts are jumbled, so many questions, so many things to consider.

“Primo?” you ask after a moment.

He hums. “Yes, fiore mio?”

“Will you ever turn me?”

A scoff, bitter and sharp, like it’s the absurdest thing he’s ever heard. “No, amore, I will do no such thing.”

“But if I wanted you to?”

“No.”

You open your eyes to find him looking up at you and lift a hand to smooth out the stern crease on his brow. “We’ll have to talk about this.”

“No,” he says again, then buries his face in your neck with a deep hum, wrapping his arms around you tightly. A moment passes. Then another one and he seems to mull the thought over in his head. He sighs in defeat. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“We will talk about it but not soon. We have many years to come before this ever matters.”

You’re satisfied with that for now, giggle when he presses a plethora of bloody kisses all over your neck and chest, and you can feel his smirk against your skin. You know he’s trying to distract you and it works. Your feelings for him flutter to live inside of you like a colony of bats and you breathe a kiss to his soft blond hair. As he falls asleep, he slowly exhales with his lips against your windpipe. You close your eyes and savour the feeling of his body wrapped around yours, thinking that if you’re lucky, this is a moment you’re going to remember for all of eternity.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed vampire primo – kudos, comments, rbs etc are as always much appreciated ♡

Read now Part 2: Friday Nights at the Vinothek | Vampire!Secondo x gn!reader

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