#swerve strickland x oc

[harmshake]

The Gentle Horror, Part 1

🖤 Summary: A quiet neighborhood. A vampire hiding in plain sight. A tragic murder. Nyma finds herself in the center of it all with Stephon as her only friend…but he is not who he seems. 🖤 Pairing: Nyma (black fem oc) x Vampire Swerve Strickland 🖤 Warnings: 18+ only, strong language, NSFW, mentions of domestic violence, death, blood, and smut. 🖤 Word count: ~6,400

Happy Halloween! 🎃

Read Part 2 or more of my spooky fics and other stuff here, if you'd like. ✨

Summer was such an angry season, Stephon thought to himself. The blaring sun, the blistering heat, and the sweat and angst that seemed to stick to people like a bad omen. 

However, Stephon had no such reaction to the weather as his skin was as cool as ice on the hottest summer day. Today was one of those scorching afternoons as he could smell that sweat and feel that angst radiating off the humans nearby. He hid away from them and the sun, resting in his basement that he'd converted into his underground bedroom. Or at least he was trying to rest. 

That angry, violent heat had gotten the best of his new neighbors as they lugged box after box into the two-story home next to his. Stephon's ears rang with the sound of a woman and man, clearly married and clearly at wits end with each other. They fussed and cussed at one another over who was carrying the heaviest burdens—at first, that meant the moving boxes yet it abruptly derailed into the plights of their relationship. And to make it worse, they had a dog that he heard yapping in between their argument. 

"You act like I don't support you in everything you do! We moved all the way out here because of you!"

"Well, fuck me for wantin' to be a man and provide for you and your needs."

"I got my own money, I don't need you to provide for me, Tyree. What I need you is for you to stop actin' like a fuckin' crazy ass alpha male all the time."

"Fuck, man," Stephon let out a frustrated sigh as he lay in his bed, wishing he could tune them out and cursing his ultra-sensitive hearing. They were quite annoying and disturbed his peaceful routine: Sun up, sleep, sundown, feed. He'd lived in a hundred places over the years and he liked this stretch of suburban paradise in University Park. It was close to Dallas, his hometown, quaint, and calm...until today.

And when he heard the unmistakable clap of the husband's heavy hand on the wife's cheek and her horrified screech, Stephon's eyes popped open once again with hot-blooded rage coursing through his veins. No fault of the sun, all fault of someone's raggedy ass son who had the nerve to lay hands on a woman. He'd never been bitch-made like that, and never heard of it going on in his neighborhood until now. 

His first instinct was to go knock on their door and gather dude up for the lady because, from the sounds of it, she wasn't going to call the police. Yet she cried as the afternoon hours bled into the night. It was all he could fixate on as she wept long after her husband stormed out of the house. He had seen the creation of enough chaos, been the artist behind it, and retired from it, that he wanted to help her.

He finally rolled out of bed, slipping into a black leather jacket and black jeans, and stepped onto his front porch to feel the humid evening air on his skin. When he looked to his left, there she was. His new neighbor, a black woman maybe in her mid-thirties with her afro hair tucked into an emerald green headwrap piled on her dainty head. All of her was dainty, yet rounded out with thick curves she hid behind her oversized black hoodie and matching sweatpants. 

Stephon didn't have to gaze long to tell she was beautiful. Too beautiful to have that welt on her cheek and too beautiful to have that cigarette dangling from her plump, brown lips as she slumped onto the steps of her porch, her deep brown eyes flickering from it and her golden retriever that rolled around in her manicured grass.

"Hey, neighbor," Stephon greeted her with a warm smile and waved from the sidewalk as he went to stroll down the street. She glanced up at him with a slow, weary smile, her lips parting to speak back until her dog suddenly jumped to its feet at the sight of him and barked so loud that the sound echoed in the silent night.

"Oh, my god, I'm so sorry! Maddie, stop it, girl!" she called over the dog's incessant noise, leaping up from the steps to wrangle it by the collar and into her home when it tried to hurl itself in his direction. Once she closed the door and somewhat muffled Maddie's racket, the woman stood at the end of her steps, picking back up the cigarette that she placed on them to take another puff. "Sorry about that," she exhaled and shook her head. "She don't act up like that normally. Not sure what got into her."

"It's all good. I'm a new face. And so are you. Just moved in?" Stephon asked with a half-smile on his thick lips. He already knew more about her than he should, but he wouldn't frighten her and let her know that.

"Yeah. Just got settled in today from Atlanta," she said with another puff. "I'm Nyma, by the way. You?"

"Atlanta? Wow, that's a long way. I'm Stephon. Nice to meet you," he replied and took a step onto the paved walkway in her yard. He noticed she didn't meet him halfway and wondered if her dog's reaction to him spooked her at all. But she didn't seem wary of him, just wary in general, certainly from the events of her day. His deep voice was softer as he glanced at her cigarette and carefully added, "You know those are bad for you. If you stressed, I recommend a shot of Henny and some good music."

"I know...I don't really smoke, but I keep a pack when I need one. But I think a shot is probably just as dangerous 'cause the way I feel right now? I'd need a few." Nyma let out a joyless laugh yet the sound was still sweet in Stephon's ears. It made him smile again and she smiled back a little before wrapping her arms around herself.

"Hey, I feel you. I'm actually headed to a bar up the road from here now. 'Cause I could use a few, too," Stephon teased and she laughed for real this time, her cute smile growing wider. "You wanna join me? My treat."

"That's nice of you, but...I'm married." Nyma flicked away her cigarette butt and held up her left hand to flash the wedding band on her ring finger. The weight in her delicate, Southern-accented voice felt heavy at the mention of her husband, her eyes hanging low, too. Yet they whipped up to meet his when he took another cautious step towards her. His eyes could see from a mile away the slight bruise on her cheek, but as he stood only a few feet away from her, Nyma covered it with her hand as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Understood. Everything okay?" Stephon asked quietly. He knew he probably seemed out of pocket to inquire as they were strangers, but seeing the pain in her eyes as she gazed at him made his blood all over again.

"Yeah," Nyma lied and swallowed hard as she shivered from his eyes on her. She glimpsed away and he nodded slowly as he quickly decided to leave her be as he didn't want to be a bother.

"Alright neighbor," Stephon said and began to back away. "But if you ever need anything, sugar, eggs, or someone to talk to...I'm right next door." Nyma caught his eyes again as he shot her a warm grin, and when she grinned back with a nod, he knew then that she'd at least consider taking him up on his offer.

That was enough of a promise to put Stephon at ease as he retreated down the well-lit suburb street before he found the shadows that led to the small, downtown bar he liked to visit each night for his usuals, that shot of Hennessy and a pint of blood. They didn't serve his second beverage but he usually had no qualms about chatting up the nearest patron at the bar and sharing a drink before he suggested they go for a walk in the dark alley behind the building. They never said no because Stephon had more than a way with words but an influence with his eyes that buried that suggestion in their brain deep enough that they believed it was their own idea to leave the bar and let him sink his teeth into their neck.

And when it was all said and done, Stephon would suggest to them that they had never been with him, let alone seen him, before he headed back home, full, satisfied, and ready to enjoy his evening however he chose. It wasn't the life someone like him usually led, but he craved that slice of normalcy after the things that he'd seen and done. As he walked into the upscale bar with a Rihanna song booming through the speakers, he saddled up to the counter in his usual seat. The bartender, Alissa, waved a few fingers at him before placing two shots in front of him.

"Gotta two for one deal tonight?" Stephon asked as he grabbed one glass and downed it.

"On the house, baby," Alissa winked, her wavy, brunette hair spilling over her cleavage that she wanted him to notice as she leaned over to take his empty glass. Stephon simply smiled but it faded as soon as she turned her back because he wasn't interested. She was a nice girl but he learned after the first time he hit that she wanted a boyfriend, and he knew that wasn't him. He hadn't dated in decades, didn't see the need for it, but he wasn't above getting his dick wet from time to time. 

And as she eyed him from down the bar while taking another customer's order, Stephon was grateful he glamoured her to forget the few times they had sex. While he could glamour her to be indifferent toward him altogether, he liked to use his power sparingly. He'd seen what too many glamours could do to the feeble human brain, could split right in half. He shook his head at the thought as he tossed back his second shot and scanned the room for his dinner, yet the hairs on his skin prickled when he heard a familiar voice. His eyes flitted to it and there he was, Nyma's husband, as his drunk ass stumbled out of the restroom and raised his voice at a man sitting in the barstool he abandoned when he went.

"This mutha fucka," Stephon growled under his breath. He could smell the alcohol in his blood from here, he stunk of it. It offended his heightened offenses and he made a face, both from the stench and the obvious fact that this idiot was here trying to drown his guilt with cheap vodka instead of going home to face his wife. Stephon could nearly taste the man's remorse but also his anger as he shoved the patron from the barstool to sit down.

"Gimme another one, sweetheart," Tyree hollered at Alissa when she approached him. Stephon made a fist and squeezed as he thought to calm himself down. He wanted to temper himself before going over to talk some sense into him.

"Ay, man, look here," Stephon said, biting back his own anger as he clapped a hand on the man's shoulder. Tyree was a sizeable man, more fat than muscle, but fit enough and intimidating to the average person. Yet Stephon wasn't scared when the man switched around to glare at him and his hand on him, his grip not nearly as harsh as it could be.

"The fuck you want?" Tyree spat before Stephon looked into his dark eyes swirling with irritation and looked beyond them. He couldn't read his mind but he could touch it, his gaze prodding through it until he found a suitable place to plant his suggestion, somewhere between his guilt and his indignation that overshadowed it.

"Listen here. When you get home tonight, you need to pack all yo' shit and leave," Stephon said sternly. "You don't wanna be here no more. You wanna go back to Atlanta but alone. You hear me?"

Stephon felt a tingle of his own guilt creep up his spine as he knew he had no business meddling in Nyma's marriage. He didn't know her or what she wanted, but he could tell from that argument he overheard and the look in her eyes that she didn't want this piece of shit in her life. And he didn't want him in his neighborhood, either. He held Tyree's gaze until the man nodded, the pupils of his eyes blowing out as he received his words. 

"You hear me, man?" he asked him again.

"Yeah..." Tyree sounded out. Stephon nodded back and released him, going back to take his seat. He knew his glamour would work, it always did, but he still kept an eye on the man as he tumbled out of the bar and to his pickup truck. Yet before Tyree could open the door, Stephon had the wise thought of having him for dinner since he'd been so distracted by the man that he hadn't fed yet. He usually despised the way blood tasted with so much liquor laced in it, but he'd make it quick and make sure he got his shit and left town afterward.

"Ay, you really shouldn't drink and drive," he told Tyree as he approached him in the dimly lit parking lot. The big man nearly jumped out of his skin to see Stephon, his keys dropping to the asphalt.

"But I gotta get home. I g-g-gotta get out of here," he stuttered as Stephon came closer. He was pleased to hear his suggestion repeated back to him, yet when he bent over to grab his keys for him, he felt one of Tyree's big hands come clobbering down on the back of his head.

"What the fuck?!" Stephon grunted as he snapped up at lightning speed, just as surprised as he was frustrated by the assault. His suggestion didn't wipe away his fear of Stephon, and when Tyree lunged at him again with fists as he shouted for him to back up, one of them connected to his chin.

The drunk man had a heavy blow, eerily precise, but Stephon didn't feel any pain from it. He only felt rage for what he did to Nyma. Before he could think twice about it, his fangs revealed themselves with a glisten in the moonlight and his hand lashed out in front of him and around Tyree's neck, squeezing as he pinned him to his truck door. When he heard a couple of bones pop and saw the man's eyes bulge before the fear in them faded to black, Stephon let go and watched him sink to the ground. 

"Goddammit," he whispered to himself with an annoyed sigh. He didn't have to look around to know there were no lingering eyes about, but he didn't waste any time scooping Tyree into his arms like he weighed nothing and sprinting with a blur behind the bar and into the darkness where he tossed his body behind the large, green dumpster.

He hadn't meant to kill him, only subdue and glamour him one more time for good measure to calmly go home and get the hell out of town. But as Stephon glanced at his lifeless pile of flesh, he didn't feel sorry for Tyree. He came from a time when men like him would treat people like their property, and that included his own mother. Stephon would never forget the shit he saw her go through as a little boy, and how helpless he felt to stop it. While he hadn't always done the right thing as an adult, he knew one thing was always right: Have no sympathy for these fuck niggas.

He smoothed out his jacket and headed back into the bar for something to eat, knowing he'd done his quiet neighborhood, and more importantly, Nyma, a favor that he could never speak of. 

Stephon wasn't sure how Nyma would react, but he'd make sure to keep an eye on her. As a good neighbor should.

・・━━━━━━━━ ∞ ━━━━━━━━・・

Four weeks.

Four weeks without her husband. Four weeks alone in a new town she didn't want to be in anymore. Four weeks of losing her fucking mind.

The only thing holding Nyma together was the fact that she had to hold it together because there was nothing else she could do. She couldn't afford to go home to Atlanta, not when Tyree's funeral expenses drained her savings, as well as the bills of the home they purchased together suddenly all hers to manage.

And Nyma got her money's worth as she worked from home but even on her off days, all she did was stay inside, wallowing around the big, empty space that didn't even feel lively with her fur baby, Maddie, prancing around, oblivious to Tyree's absence. But Nyma felt it, felt it every day as she adjusted to waking up by herself, cooking for herself, and going to sleep by herself.

Maybe she could have reached out to her mother-in-law for assistance getting back to Atlanta, but they weren't on good terms before Tyree's death and they sure as hell weren't now as she indirectly blamed Nyma and the move for killing him. Another slap in the face, she thought, as Nyma called her the same night Tyree didn't come from the bar he went to earlier, and called her again a few hours later when his body had been discovered. A broken neck. The police deemed it a homicide but had no suspects as who in the fuck would want to hurt Tyree when no one here knew him? 

Nyma ached inside when the thought of him gone made her feel the tiniest bit relieved as she knew him and the monster he could be. That was something she didn't tell his mother, or anyone for that matter. She was estranged from her own parents, she was an only child, and all of her friends back home only suspected Tyree's behavior but never confronted her on it because they probably knew Nyma wouldn't tell the truth, anyway.

But that was all over now. He was gone and Nyma was free. Yet she still felt like a prisoner in her home most days as she didn't have the energy to do much. And as she sat on her porch for the fifth consecutive Friday night, a cigarette between her fingers as she watched the smoke unfurl into the air, she heard a door to her right open.

Out walked Stephon, his black and gold locs pulled back off his face into a ponytail that fell down his back, clad in his leather jacket and black combat boots like he always was when she saw him. And like always, he came up to her and sat down on the steps beside her. Yet tonight, his hands were empty as she told him earlier in the week she was stocked up on care packages. For the last month on Fridays, he'd brought her groceries and even packs of cigarettes that he fussed at her for smoking.

He was the only part of her day that didn't suck, his good neighborly ways evolving into a little friendship. She was grateful for him and that he made good on his promise from the first day they met that he'd be there for her if she needed anything, including someone to talk to. She told him just enough to ease her spirit, like a little of what she went through with Tyree.

In turn, Stephon was thoughtful, patient, and compassionate. And it didn't hurt that he was very easy on the eyes, she thought, his deep brown skin perfect, same as his smile that he decorated with gold top grillz. But Nyma tried not to flirt with the man. She didn't think she was ready for it, didn't feel right so soon after, especially when Stephon had an aura to him that she couldn't quite place. 

Nothing too unsettling as she enjoyed his company when they sat together like this on her porch, but each time she caught his gaze she could have sworn she saw an abyss of dark stories untold that looked back at her. As much as they talked, she knew she hadn't heard even half of those stories. Which was only fair as she had her own that he was ignorant of, as well. She just didn't want to scare him off, not when she appreciated him so much.

"Don't you get hot in that?" Nyma asked him teasingly, shooing away her thoughts and gently elbowing his sleeved forearm. He bristled at her touch yet laughed softly.

"Naw. I don't get hot like that. Don't you get tired of them things?" he asked back as she ashed her cigarette.

"This is the first one I've had today. I'm slowin' down. And maybe you shouldn't bring me any if that's how you feel." She stuck her tongue out at him and he scrunched up his nose to make her grin.

"You right, you right. As of tonight, I'm done enablin' you. But what else can I do to make you smile like that?" Stephon joked but then his tone softened as he licked his lips. Nyma wanted to pretend she didn't notice the coquettishness that slipped into his deep voice, but she couldn't ignore the way it made her heart pound. It was something that happened often, but he never pressed her for anything more than her comfort, something that endeared her to him more than she was willing to admit.

"Maybe we can finally go to that jazz club you told me about," Nyma heard herself say and shocked herself. Shocked him, too, as his eyes widened along with his smile. He'd offered a few times to get her out of the house and show her around Dallas, the nearest and biggest city to their little lavish neighborhood, but of course, she always turned him down. It was that familial fear of this slightly strange, yet kind and beautiful man, and fear of her own guilt for being intrigued by him.

Yet something in Nyma was drawn to him all the same, and perhaps her own body knew before she did that it was time to at least have one pleasant weekend.

"Really? You sure? 'Cause you know I don't mean to pressure you. I just think you'll enjoy yourself. The vibe fits you," Stephon said as he ran a hand over his beard and eyed her with his handsome smile.

"Yeah? What's my vibe?" She was genuinely curious given all he'd seen of her were these visits where she'd brood on her porch and he'd do his best to cheer her up before he went to work for his overnight shift. That was another reason she hadn't taken him up on his offer sooner—his unconventional schedule clashed with hers as while she was up and at it during the day, he was asleep. But the excitement that filled his pretty brown eyes let Nyma know the only plans he had tonight were for her. 

"Vibrant. Sweet. And beautiful," Stephon replied, his eyes still on hers as he licked his lips again. Nyma felt her heart thrum in her chest again, but she tried to hide her smile as she playfully rolled her eyes and tossed her cigarette butt into the grass. But he saw her coy joy and smiled back before he added eagerly, "So you down to go, for real? Right now?"

"Let me freshen up first, but yeah. I'm down," Nyma said with her smile still stuck on her lips as she excused herself to head inside her home. She quickly changed out of the pink cotton sweatsuit and headwrap she'd lived in the past month to shower, race through moisturizing with shea butter all over her skin, and slip into a little black dress that stopped just shy of her knees before she fluffed out her dark afro to frame her slender face. 

She hated to keep him waiting even though she rushed as she spritzed herself with vanilla perfume, threw on a pair of gold hoop earrings, and shoved her little feet into black slingbacks as she headed back downstairs. Yet as she felt out of breath reaching her front door, Nyma suddenly felt silly for making an effort to look nice for her friend and their night out on the town.

But the way Stephon's eyes devoured her as soon as she stepped foot onto her porch let her know he didn't mind the hold-up. She blushed when he offered his arm to her to help her down the steps, her cheeks growing warmer as he reminded her in a gentle tone, "You didn't have to change. But you look really beautiful, Nyma..."

And again as they sat across from each other at the small, candlelit lounge table, Hennessy and Coke in their glasses after they clinked them and Stephon toasted, "To a beautiful night out. Hopefully as beautiful as you."   

It made Nyma roll her eyes again as he was a charming fool and he knew it, his own words making him laugh when she did. "You think I'm corny, don't you?" Stephon asked with a smirk before he sipped his drink. He had to speak up over the loud but incredible band on stage that played a smooth jazz rendition of SZA's "Love Galore."

Nyma nodded her head as she rested her elbows on the table. "Yeah, but I like it," she confessed slowly and let out a wistful sigh with it.

"But you don't like that you like it..." Stephon stated. Before she could come up with an excuse, he added, "Don't feel bad. You been through a lot and the last thing I wanna do is make shit more complicated for you."

"I know..." Nyma sighed again and took a big sip of her drink. She wasn't someone who sipped often and it was already getting to her head, making her feel warm, fuzzy, and perhaps too honest. But she heard herself admit to him anyway, "I wanna dance with you. I don't wanna feel bad right now. Let's dance."

She downed the last sip of her drink and stood up from the table before Stephon could answer, and thankfully he didn't protest. Yet as he led her to the dance floor amongst the throngs of other couples that swayed close together to the music, she noticed he held her at almost an arm's length, his cool hands barely on her waist. "You shy now?" Nyma teased and he grinned a tad sheepishly.

"Tryna be a gentleman," he said as he towered over her, but she could see the abrupt shyness in his eyes when he was usually so smooth. Maybe it was because they had never touched, not even for a hug, but where he was oddly hesitant, Nyma and her liquid courage made her close the space between them and slip her arms around his neck.

She felt him tremble and so did she as he felt chilly to the touch. The jazz club was definitely cool to fight off the summer heat outside and the hot bodies inside, but Stephon was cold like ice. "I see why you wear this jacket all the time. You must get cold easily," Nyma remarked as he moved with her to the rhythm of the lovely saxophone crooning from the stage.

"I do, but it keeps me warm," he replied as he gazed down at her. Now that their bodies were touching, he seemed to settle back into himself, his mysterious eyes locking with hers as she gazed up at him. The mystery of him still grasped at her, tempting her to ask questions, but the way his large hands slid a bit lower on her and grasped her hips pulled her attention away.

"Do I keep you warm, too? You holdin' me mighty close," Nyma blurted barely above a whisper.

"Too close?" Stephon asked and she was surprised he heard her over the music. It made her blush but she shook her head before she rested it on his chest. She let herself get swept away in how he and the music held her as they slow-danced, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to feel content...

Nyma had a difficult time pulling herself away from that closeness as she clung to Stephon who helped her up her porch steps. She was tipsier than she meant to get after a couple more drinks, but she felt good, albeit a little embarrassed as Stephon seemed to be able to hold his liquor impeccably. He had taken a few shots of Hennessy after she called it quits and was still able to stand up straight as they danced and laughed together until the last call.

Once he ordered them a Lyft to their neighborhood, she expected him to go pass out in his house, but he was a gentleman as he said, and got her home safely first. He stood behind her now as he waited for her to let herself inside, her fingers missing her keys each time they fished through her purse. "Got 'em," Nyma mumbled as she finally whipped them out and turned to Stephon who leaned against one of the porch's columns with his hands in his black jeans pockets. "Give me a good night hug," she demanded and nearly tripped in her heels trying to walk over him.

His hands shot out to steady her yet she crashed into him. He held her to his chest for a hug before his cool lips pressed to her forehead for a quick kiss. "Good night, beautiful," he murmured before he let her go but she held on, her hands on his muscular biceps behind his jacket. She hoped the look in her eyes reached him like how his reached her, feeling bold enough from the Henny to want his lips on hers, but feeling too shamed to ask for it.

And so Nyma let words fail her altogether and instead she grabbed his face into her hands and pressed her lips to his. It was quick, as quick as his peck on her, but the feel of his soft, cool lips made her heart thump so wildly in her chest that she felt sinful to like it. 

"You ain't mean to do that," Stephon breathed as her thumbs caressed his beard and his hands caressed her waist. Yet he didn't let go as he declared quietly, "We're drunk. I don't want you doin' some shit you'll regret tomorrow."

"I won't regret a kiss...will you?" Nyma breathed, too, and when he shook his head, she pulled it back to hers as their lips met again. The unusual coolness of his skin made hers tingle, made a part of her brain tingle with a hushed warning that she neglected as the bigger sensation was warmth. 

Warmth in her cheeks from his soft mouth that moved on hers so slowly, so deeply. Warmth from beneath her dress where his fingers gently dug into her skin. Warmth between her legs when his tongue tasted hers and then her neck, drawing little circles that she suddenly wanted to feel even lower on her body.

Nyma couldn't remember the last time such a succulent warmth threatened to consume her as she'd busied herself with every negative thought her mind had to offer. Yet there was something about Stephon, something that eased her mind and yearned to let him in...

"Come inside. Please," she whispered on his lips and she didn't have to beg as he followed her through the door once she unlocked it. Usually, Maddie would come running to greet her, but she mercifully stayed put wherever she was, probably too tired at this late hour to move. Nyma was grateful as even though her dog had somewhat warmed up to Stephon, she would still weirdly bark her head off if he moved too fast around her.

And the way he moved with her now, their bodies falling all over each other as they sloppily kissed would probably look frightening. But Nyma leaned into it, leaned into him and the scary good feeling he gave her as his mouth covered hers and then her neck yet again, his teeth grazing her skin as he cupped her ass in his hands. He lifted her up and sat her on the wooden end table in her foyer, the structure and the lamp on it wobbling a bit as he leaned into her, too, wrapping her thighs around his waist as his tongue found the spot on her neck that made her whimper in his ear.

"I like the sound of that," Stephon softly growled on her skin, his big hands squeezing her hips to make her do it again. His lips brushed along her collarbone before he kissed it and said, "Bet you taste as delicious as you sound..."

"Find out..." Nyma huffed as his tongue twirled along her exposed breasts in her dress that he held to his mouth. Stephon hummed as his hands fell back to her thighs, inching up them until he found the hem of her thong that he pulled down slowly, his eyes on hers as he did it like he wanted her approval every step of the way. But Nyma meant it when she said she wouldn't regret a kiss...even if it was between her thighs.

Stephon sank onto his knees, his hands never leaving her as his mouth found her skin again, found her bare warmth dripping for him as he met it with unhurried kisses that made Nyma sink onto the table. She tried to find her balance as she clutched at the ends of it, but the more he coated her with wet kisses that swiftly used his cool tongue to lap up the juices she was spilling into his mouth, the less she could hang on. Her thighs shook around Stephon's head as he gripped them, gazing up at her as he wagged his tongue on her sweetest spot before he kissed it and made her nearly knock over the lamp to her right.

"Right there...right there, unnhhh," Nyma cried, her flailing hands finally landing on his head to hold him right there as he flicked his tongue just so..."Stephon, unhhh, ffffuck..." 

The fluttering warmth swallowed her up even with the curious coolness of his mouth, that very thing making her orgasm stronger as it clashed so enticingly with the heat pulsing through her body. Nyma couldn't stop moaning, couldn't stop the good feeling if she tried, as Stephon unlocked it and controlled it as he kept his mouth on her until her grip on his locs loosened while she came down slowly.

"Fuckin' delicious," he nearly moaned, too, as his tongue ran over her lower lips before it trailed outward to her thigh. She shivered from his teasing licks and shivered harder when his teeth nipped at her sensitive skin. She liked it, fondling his head as she whimpered and watched him kiss her before he bit her, a proper bite that made her shriek and shove his head away.

"What the hell?!" Nyma cried in a different way, tears dotting her eyes as her inner thigh glared with pain. She stared down to see her own red blood oozing from the small break in her brown skin. She couldn't believe her eyes for a moment, realizing she was drunk but not that drunk, and her eyes flashed to Stephon who now rose to his full height to loom over her. He looked just as startled as she was, his lips parted slightly in tipsy awe. She could see his gold grillz...as well as the elongated fangs on either side of them that gleamed with her blood.

"I'm sor—"

"W-what's goin' on? What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Nyma interrupted in a stammer, her brain stammering, too, as she knew exactly what she was looking at but she didn't want to accept it because no. No, they don't exist. They aren't real creatures.

Yet she could tell Stephon recognized the question shouting in her head from the horror on her face—and his own face smoothed over with an uncanny yet clumsily beautiful grin as he professed, "Yes. I'm a vampire."

"Are you goin' t-to eat me?" Nyma mouthed with a silent scream threatening to ring out, all at once believing him and every myth she ever heard about vampires. She wanted to run but she felt frozen, her eyes fixated on him and those long fangs that his tongue swiped over to clean her blood from them, the very same tongue that was dipped in her nectar. It made her heart thunder so hard in her chest she thought she might die, and yet in the same vein, she felt gravely aroused by him still.

Especially as Stephon uttered, "I already did, beautiful. But I wouldn't mind gettin' another taste."

.

.

.

Thanks for reading! 🖤

Whew! I didn't think I'd get it up on time (and technically I didn't LMAO), but it's finally here! Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoyed!

Part 2 coming later this week because, dammit, let's celebrate Halloween a lil longer. 😈

Tag squad 🫶🏾

@harlem11680 @mzv11 @visionarymode @miyuhpapayuh @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @angelreigns444 @vebner37 @flawlessvictory2020 @dreamsinfocus @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @jeyusos-girl @nayys-world @msbigredmachine @purplehairgawdess @dayjlovesromance @solosikoasgf @mohawkmama @smuts-whore @po3ticb3auty @alyyaanna @murrylove @papireigns-05 @vintage-pvssy @christinabae @itsautomaticfaegirl @bebesobrielo @urasunflower @iguessilikewrestlingnow @seeingstarks @555sage @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @theninthwonder @tabletheofhead @weirdosandhopelessromantics @venusesworld @ariieeesworld @twocentuar @sassginaswanmills @gomussy @theglamclosetsl @baeusos @2-muchsauce @empressdede @woahdude9481 @browngalmal

#swerve strickland #aew fic #swerve strickland fic #aew fanfiction #swerve strickland smut #swerve strickland fanfiction #aew smut #swerve strickland x oc #spilled ink #all elite wrestling #aew wrestling #vampire story #vampire smut

[h0ney-fiction]

29

masterlist

Synopsis: Stephon (Swerve) Strickland's childhood best friend's baby sister has a birthday party...

Word Count: 2,166.

A/N: *fans self* I guess something about Swerve brings out my nasty lol. I had fun writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it! Written to the same song by Tyla.

Ratings/Warnings: Grown. Alcohol Use. Devil's Lettuce Use. Unprotected Sex.

“Happy birthday!”

The room burst with cheers as I walked through the door of my older brother’s house. I was dressed in a mid-length cowl cocktail dress under the impression my brother was taking me out to dinner with my family. Instead, I see my family and all of our closest friends gathered in his living room which has been fully decorated in my favorite color for my birthday. There was even an arch of balloons that led to his backyard. 

“You didn’t think we were gonna let you turn 29 and not celebrate, did you?” My brother, Shawn, teased. I punched his arm playfully.

“29 is such a boring age. The real party is 30,” I retorted.

“Not in this family, every year is a party!” My mom interjected from the crowd causing everyone to laugh. 

The party quickly got into swing as friends old and new mingled. Through the crowd, I saw my brother’s childhood best friend, Stephon, come towards me.

“Stephie!” I cried.

He smiles, “I have not heard you say that in forever.” 

I blushed. “It hasn’t been that long since the last time I saw you.”

He raised his eyebrows, I could see him do the mental math.

“There was your grandmother’s funeral…” he started

“Then the family reunion. You and Shawn were too busy trying to flirt with these girls on vacation.”

“Hey! In my defense, your brother did marry one of them.” He put his hands up defensively. 

“And that was what? A year ago? It sounds like we see each other all the time.”

“Yeah,” He started, his eyes focusing in on me. I couldn’t help but heat up underneath his gaze. He opened his mouth to say more but my brother’s wife, Angie, walked toward us.

“What are you guys doing?” She said, her tone teasing.

I blushed, and Stephon backed away. It wasn’t until Angie’s presence I realized how close our bodies were to each other. 

“Nothing!”‌ I said quickly, not helping the situation. 

“We were just calculating the last time we had a conversation with each other,” Stephon rolled over my awkwardness. 

Angie raised her eyebrows. “Well you two love birds don’t take too long, there is a whole party here!” She said before walking away to the food table.

My face was beet-red as Stephon laughed. 

“I’m gonna go…” I trailed off, walking aimlessly to the backyard.

“Cam?…Camila!” I could hear him call after me but I slipped through the door and had a conversation with the first person who made eye contact with me. 

***

I avoided Stephon for the rest of the party. I could feel his eyes throughout the night as I skated through conversations, ate food, or made a drink pretending he wasn’t watching me. 

It was a little after midnight the party started to die down and it was only my brother, his wife, and Stephon left. We were all sitting outside on their back porch, stargazing. 

“You’re wasted, babe,” Angie teased my brother.

“That is the last time I trust Aunt Maya with the house punch,” my brother hiccuped.

“She overdoes it every time, don’t you remember Thanksgiving of 2015? Everyone was wasted before the turkey,” I laughed causing Stephon to join me.

“I remember that! I came for dessert and everyone was throwing up or asleep,” He added. 

“You’re sober, Steph. Why don’t you take the birthday girl home?” Angie smiled.

She knew what she was doing, but Steph obliged in being naive.

He took the hint to go and got up from the porch. 

“Your chariot awaits, madam,” He teased putting out his hand to me.

I rolled my eyes and took it, letting him pull me up. I lost my balance, causing him to pull me to him, holding my shoulders. 

“Woah!” I said, catching my balance. I looked up at Stephon and began to feel the warmth I felt earlier that night. 

“Let’s take you home,” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

The walk to his car was quiet. He opened the door for me and strapped the seatbelt.

“You don’t have to,” I argued.

“I want to,” He replied before checking my dress wasn’t hanging over before closing the door. 

“Do you still live in Glenmont?” He asked, pulling up his phone’s GPS.

I nodded. 

He turned on the radio and a Tyla song began to fill the air.

“I love this song!” I shouted, realizing how much alcohol I consumed that evening. 

He smiled and left the station as it was before driving off. It was a hot night so he let his windows down and opened up his sunroof. I loved the night sky so I took the view from his sunroof in. 

“Is this a new car?” I asked.

He nodded. “I’m working with a good promotion now. Things are steady.”

I understood and let the song finish and a new one filled the air. Stephon and Shawn met each other in the first grade. He’s been in my life longer than the years without. When I was a teenager I used to have a massive crush on him but he enlisted and didn’t give me the time of day beyond being Shawn’s baby sister. I stuffed those feelings in me for over a decade.

Could there really be a chance? 

Stephon took the exit off the highway and began to approach the quiet street where my house resided. As he parked in front of my place, he took the keys out of the ignition. 

“I have a birthday present for you that I didn’t want to give you in front of your family,” he started.

“Oh? And what is it?” I inquired.

“Open the glove box.” He smiled.

I opened the glovebox and found a rectangular box wrapped in gold paper. I unraveled it to reveal a pack of gold-foiled pre-rolled joints. I squealed at the sight.

“How did you know I had my eyes on these wrappers?”

“You should be more careful about what you like on Twitter.”

“Who checks other people’s Twitter likes?” I tease. 

"People who care for you do," he shrugged.

He took the pack from my hands, opening and taking one out. He takes the lighter from the compartment and lights it for me, passing it over.

I take it and inhale deeply, feeling the effects instantly.

I exhaled. The night air felt sticky from the humidity.

I take another puff.

He watches me intently.

I feel like a teenager again.

"What if I told you that I liked you and have liked you since I was 15?"

He looks at me surprised.  "I didn't know that."

"You never paid attention. Even when you left for the military. I used to bug my mom to send you a care package under the guise it was from all of us."

I pass the joint over. He takes it and smokes it.

"You're drunk, Cam."

"Not that drunk, Stephie," I mocked, taking the joint back.

"What would happen if I told you that I liked you?" he asked

"Then I'd say you're full of shit," I took a hit.

"Well I like you, Camila," He said.

I could hear the honesty in his voice.

"Stephie," I started.

"Cam," He mocked.

He took the joint.

I watch him take a drag. I take a second to think, the high hitting me harder than I expected.

"Okay, then why didn't you make a move on me back in the day?"

"You're Shawn's sister. I've seen a side of him you haven't. I never wanted to be on the receiving end of his fists."

I rolled my eyes, "Shawn loves you. He'd understand."

"You're also 4 years younger than me."

"So?"

"You just turned 15 when I left for basic training. It wasn't right."

"So you're telling me that if I was older, you would've made a move?"

"Probably."

He put out the joint.

"Well, I'm 29 now," I declared.

"You are."

"So?"

"You tell me."

He leans into me and presses his lips against mine, gently. I returned the kiss, the effects of the joint mixing with the alcohol made everything more sensitive. I felt myself moan against him as I let him open my mouth with his tongue.

We parted for a brief moment.

"Let's go inside."

I guided him to my bedroom. We slowly took each other's clothes off, kissing and licking each inch of skin we exposed.

I let my hands caress his face and ran my hands through his locs. They were up in a ponytail, but he took off the elastic to let them hang down. When we were fully naked, I got down on my knees and kissed his happy trail and thighs before taking him in my mouth. He took his head back and moaned my name. I rolled my tongue around him as he took a clump of my hair into his hand.

"Who taught you this?" he teased.

"I've had practice" I smirked, before returning to the task at hand.

I took as much of him in as I could before gagging, causing him to let out a deep moan. He pulled me away from him and brought me back up, pushing me onto my bed. He spread open my legs and began to teasingly kiss my toes. He was deliberately slow kissing upwards to my thighs, hips, and up to my breast where his tongue began to suckle and play with. His hands finally found my sweetness. He let his thumb and middle finger find my bud as his other fingers massaged my folds.

I moaned loudly.

"Shhh, don't wake up the neighbors," he teased before continuing his assault on my breast.

When his finger finally entered me, I arched my back at the sensation. I couldn't contain my moans as his finger curled in me and his thumb pressed hard on my bud.

"Stephie!"

"Shhh," he reminded me before switching his attention to my other breast.

When his tongue met my nipple, it sent a shockwave down my body and into my core.

"Stephie, I need you," I whispered.

"Not yet," he replied.

His finger quickened its pace and another digit entered me. I cried out in pleasure, not caring about the neighbors anymore.

"Fuck," I whimpered.

He released himself from my nipple, leaning over my pussy. He began to eat me out. My legs were shaking in an instant. He took his free hand and pushed down on my stomach.

"Stephonnn," I whined.

I could feel myself coming close. I couldn't form a sentence, instead, my moans increased in pitch.

He pulled his face away and let his thumb continue the assault on my bud. He suspended me right at the edge, waiting.

"Stephie, pleaseee," I begged.

He smiled before taking my bud into his mouth, sucking and rolling his tongue one last time before pulling away.

I moaned, being so close yet so far from orgasm.

"Do you have a condom?"

"I have an IUD," I replied.

"Birth control, huh?" He teased, entering me.

I was moaning before I could think of a quick enough retort. He was stretching me out in the best way.

"Fuck, Stephie," I cried.

"Cam," he groaned.

He continued to push deeper into me, causing me to roll my eyes and arch my back. I wasn't going to last long from all of the teasing.

"Stephie, Stephie, Stephie," I panted in his ear as he fucked me.

"Come, baby," he said.

That was the only thing I needed as my orgasm came over me, hard. He thrusted harder, riding it out and talking me through it.

"You're doing so good, baby."

"Fucking beautiful,"

"I love how your pussy is gripping me,"

My body was twitching as he continued to fuck me through my orgasm, not letting up.

"Don't stop," I begged.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned.

"Please," I said, feeling another orgasm creeping.

"That's right, cum for me, baby."

His command made me lose it as a second, even stronger, orgasm washed over me.

"You're taking me so well," he encouraged.

I couldn't stop the string of curse words that were escaping me.

"I'm so fucking close," He groaned.

He grabbed a fistful of my hair, pulling my head back, kissing me. It was sloppy and desperate.

"Fuck, Cam, you feel so fucking good."

"Cum in me, Stephie."

That was the final straw. With a few more thrusts he released inside of me. His moans were deep, almost a growl.

He slowly rode out his orgasm before pulling out.

"You're amazing," He mumbled, kissing my forehead before leaving the room.

I couldn't reply. I was spent. He returned with a warm washcloth and cleaned me up, then himself. He pulled the covers over us and cuddled me, holding me against his chest.

"Happy Birthday, Cam," He mumbled, falling asleep.

"Thank you, Stephie," I said, before falling asleep.

#swerve strickland x oc #aew smut #swerve strickland smut #swerve strickland #aew fanficition #honey fiction

[noirapocalypto]

Qᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴᴀʀᴇ + 5 ꜱᴏɴɢꜱ

Tagged by @katsigian to do this fun little tag game. Thank you! 🖤

5 Songs:

(I'm picking from my own playlist since my oc playlists haven't been updated in a while. 😅)

Genesis - BONES (Salem's voice claim and one of his inspo's)

Skelz - That Mexican OT

Shout - Tears for Fears

A la PM Puse en Alto - Doble ONE Flow Lethal (one of Renato's songs)

Johnny Dang - That Mexican OT

Questions:

Three Ships You Like: I'm gonna keep it real with you folks, I'm not much of a shipper so this took me a while to figure out. But if I had to pick some -- Swerve Strickland x Hangman Adam Page (I don't normally ship wrestlers, but this one has me by the balls), Zuko x Sokka (Avatar the Last Airbender), Sansa Stark x Theon Greyjoy (Game of Thrones--never shipped this actively, but I thought it was cute)

First Ever Ship: Same as above, I don't really remember shipping much in my youth. I'm pretty sure I was a Zutara shipper though at some point (Katara x Zuko from AtLA)

Last Song You Heard: Formaldehypde Footsteps - BertieBanz

Favorite Childhood Book: I read the entire Cirque du Freak series one summer. Really enjoyed it at the time. Never saw the movie, thankfully lmao

Currently Reading: Some book about palmistry I got from the library

Currently Watching: Dark Side of the Ring

Currently Craving: I could kill for an agua de limón.

Tagging (with zero pressure!): @a-pirate @kidomega91 @iamsancho @togepies @valkyrie-of-the-light @cybersteal @cccyberia64 @hazellblogs @venboo @athenapalmer

#sorry if you've already been tagged #or if I’m forgetting to tag folks I normally tag #im kinda late to the party #tagged ⋆ ★

[harmshake]

The Gentle Horror, Part 2

🖤 Summary: A truth revealed and a bond that must be broken. Stephon and Nyma realize too late that actions have consequences... 🖤 Pairing: Nyma (black fem oc) x Vampire Swerve Strickland 🖤 Warnings: 18+ only, strong language, NSFW, mentions of domestic violence, death, blood, and smut. 🖤 Word count: ~5,600

Read Part 1 and more of my spooky fics here. For non-spooky stuff, read here, if you'd like. ✨

"Another t-taste? Uh, o-of what?" Nyma stuttered, batting her long eyelashes with dread...and what he could see was also desire.

"You," Stephon replied in a low mumble, licking his lips and taking a step closer to her.

As he did, that dog of hers came barking and rushing down the stairs, clearly alarmed by the shout her owner let out upon his fangs mistakenly digging too deep into her skin. Nyma didn't flinch, however, almost as if she didn't notice, her eyes stuck on him. His eyes darted to the large golden retriever that threatened him with her bared teeth and racket that made his ears ring. Yet one look suggested she take it back upstairs and not make another peep, the dog whining before reluctantly retreating to where she came from.

Stephon hoped the act proved to Nyma that he wasn't a danger to her pet and certainly not to her. But she appeared unmoved, her body still rigid on the end table of her foyer...a trickle of her blood still running down her inner thigh and pooling onto the wood finish.

Her blood. Blood that he was fighting himself off from sipping. It tasted sweeter than he expected considering she smoked those damn cigarettes. But Stephon could hardly be surprised when Nyma was a woman of wonder, something about her aura wrapping him up in something succulent...something even she didn't realize about her own power.

He realized it, though. Recognized it when she chose to deal with her piece of shit husband on her own for years. Recognized it when she wasn't frightened of him, a stranger in the night that she could likely tell was not like other men, and yet she stood unafraid. And he recognized it again tonight as he stood before her with his fangs exposed behind his lips, his confession flying out past them when he couldn't hold it in any longer, especially not when those fangs bit her. 

And yet Nyma didn't run. Her power. Instead, she sat frozen and gazed at him with panicked eyes full of confusion and lust that confused her more. It made a drunken smile spread on Stephon's face before he composed himself. He knew he was scaring her and he didn't mean it, but that damn Henny had him beside himself. If it wasn't for all those shots they took at the jazz club earlier in the night, he would have had more control over his fangs and himself.

It made him dare to take another step towards her, testing her yet hoping to make amends. Nyma quivered now that he was only two feet from her, her body almost slipping off the table, but she still didn't run. Although, she did yell at him. "Stay back!" she cried, her eyes still fixed on his but her hands scoured the surface for something to grab and hit him with, he was sure of it. When she came up empty-handed, he held his hands up in defense as he came closer.

"I ain't mean to hurt you," Stephon said earnestly. "Swear to god I would never do it on purpose. I'm not myself right now."

"Yeah, you not even human...what the fuck is happening?" Nyma sounded out in a short breath, more to herself than to him. Her deep brown eyes grew wilder as he loomed over her in his truth that tried to splinter her mind. He knew he could soothe her troubled thoughts and glamour her to forget all of this even happened, but Stephon refused to use his power on her. He respected her, admired her, and he knew she deserved to know the facts about him. He'd concealed it from her for weeks, but he never planned to tell her in the first place. No one in this neighborhood, nor this town, could know what he was. He was the only one in the area and he preferred it that way, preferred to live a simple life.

Yet he went and fucked it for himself when he meddled in Nyma's marriage, something he'd been waiting for the ramifications of...and now this. Accidentally trying to feed from an unglamoured human. But he could make this right. As he held her gaze and drew nearer, his hands still up before he slowly brought them down to rest on the thick hips attached to her small body, he watched her chest heave from his closeness...and she still didn't run. 

"Nyma," he spoke her name softly. She trembled as she gripped the table so hard her knuckles were almost white. He was drunk, so was she, and he knew he should just go the hell home, but he couldn't leave her like this. Not when she was scared. Not when he could still taste her on his tongue. Not when he could smell the air between them still fragrant with her dripping desire for him...

"Stephon..." His name sounded like a warning that she breathed when his hands carefully crawled up her curves. He dared, anyway, and reached a hand to cradle her face and bring it to his. 

Nyma let out another sound, a hushed moan that grazed his lips when he pressed them to hers. She went stiff under his touch yet she cautiously kissed him back and let his other hand drift along her thigh where he felt the wetness of her blood. She jumped at that and Stephon pulled back to show her he meant no harm as he brought his fingers to his mouth to lick her sweet blood before he pricked his thumb with one of his fangs, drawing a bit of his own blood. He caressed her wound with it, his blood healing it in seconds like it was never there. 

As he caressed his thumb over her plump and brown bottom lip, Stephon studied her reaction as she stared in awe at him once more at what he was and could do. And when he dared again to touch her thigh, breezing along her skin to seek her wet warmth beneath her dress with twirling fingers as he slowly pushed inside, nudging and finding that spot that made her legs shake, she let out the most angelic, raspy cry.

"Do you want me to go?" Stephon almost moaned, as well, from the feel of her soft, warm walls clenching around his fingers. He craved to feel her on his dick, but he would be content pleasing her in any way...her muscles pulling around his digits as her hands eased onto his chest, finally easing back into their closeness as she succumbed to another orgasm that spilled onto his palm.

Nyma didn't answer, only moaned those heavenly cries that made him pump his fingers deeper so he could feel more, hear more. She clung to his leather jacket, hiding her face in it, but Stephon took her chin to see if his natural magic had worked on her...and if she accepted him.

"Can I stay, beautiful?" he asked quietly as he slipped his fingers out to clean with his tongue.

"Stephon..." she exhaled, her eyelids low. His undead heart pounded to hear her response as she took another woozy breath and murmured, "I...revoke your invitation to my house..."

His eyes widened as his heart pounded differently, a pang that yanked him away from her and flung him to her front door that flew open on its own to let him out. Stephon's body was stronger than any substance known to man, but even he couldn't withstand the unseen force that collided with him and shoved him through the doorway so violently he crashed onto her grass ten feet from her porch.

Stephon's mouth hung open in shock as he watched her timidly approach her door with her hand on the knob, staring at him with those pretty, brown eyes still heavy with mixed emotions. He felt them, too, in his chest but refrained from calling out to her. He didn't want to disturb the peace of the calm night, and yet as Nyma closed her door, she left him the most disturbed and alone.

・・━━━━━━━━ ∞ ━━━━━━━━・・

The laptop screen blared with a blue light that stared at her more than Nyma stared at it. She was grateful her accountant job could be done from home, but she couldn't focus on her work and hadn't been able to in days. 

Weeks, truthfully. When Tyree was cryptically killed, her world came to a crashing halt. While he was her husband of five years, he was also her oppressor. Nyma finally felt free of him, even if it haunted her how she was granted it. They were new in town and she couldn't think of anyone but herself who wanted to be rid of him. Yet she didn't have that kind of hatred in her body, only contempt that had begun to soften into benevolence when she met Stephon...

And then he hurt her, too.

Her fingers grazed the inside of her left thigh where a scar should have been after he bit into it like she was a piece of meat. But her brown skin was smooth and intact, something Nyma still couldn't wrap her head around even now that she was sober. Her mind threatened to spiral out of control as she thought about how the hell that was even possible for the hundredth time today and every day since it happened.

Stephon was a vampire. Not the gentleman he deceived her to be. But a true monster.

Nyma didn't believe in monsters but Stephon was real. His skin chilling and cold. His deep brown gaze hypnotic and lethal. His fangs long and sharp. 

And she let that monster into her home. His cold hands soft on her waist, gripping her tight with strength she could tell he was holding back. His handsome eyes steadfast on hers, soaking in her every facial expression as she moaned. His fangs hidden by his gold grillz, nipping gently at her skin and making her moan more before sinking them into her...

The warmth that bloomed on her cheeks at the memory was a mystery to her. Nyma was scared of Stephon...and she was scared of her lust for him still simmering within her.

Nevertheless, she could not have him back. She hadn't gone outside in the three days since he was last in her home, not even for a cigarette. She didn't feel safe out there but she was comforted that he couldn't step foot in here. Nyma had rescinded his invitation, something she wasn't sure would even work as she'd only seen it on fictional TV shows and movies about vampires.

But it was genuine as Stephon had not bothered her since. Not a call or a knock on her door. For that, she was thankful as she knew as a mere mortal there was nothing she could do to protect herself if he did want back in. Nyma was sure beforehand that he was a thoughtful man and would leave if she asked, but she didn't know what to believe anymore. Her neighbor, her friend, was a blood-lusting creature of the night. A thing that she had no earthly idea roamed this earth...and lived right fucking next door to her.

Nyma felt like she was in a new nightmare, night after night, twisting and turning her every which way but loose with visions of Stephon's face, his mouth, his hands, waking her up in a sweat. She would be wet between her thighs, too, with the urge to dip her fingers into herself as she fell back into that wickedly delicious nightmare...

On the sixth night, Nyma came to the cruel realization that she wouldn't stop seeing him in her dreams until she confronted him in real life. She wasn't certain what truly compelled the discernment: Her desire to cure her curiosity about him and his existence or her desire to be close to him again and experience him wide awake...

It was a quarter past midnight as the moon hung in the black sky and illuminated the lux neighborhood without Nyma having to turn on her front porchlight. She stepped outside, letting her dog, Maddie, run past her and onto the yard to roll around as she wrapped her red, oversized cardigan around herself. It wasn't cold out, quite the opposite, as Texas nights were so humid her face felt warm.

Yet Nyma knew that warmth also came from her tingling fascination to see him as her eyes strayed to her right. He wasn't there on his porch where he would normally be when she came out for her evening smoke, but she had a feeling he knew she was there. And she tested that feeling when she whispered to herself, "Stephon...will you come outside?"

It only took a few seconds to see him appear within the shadows of his porch. Her heart thudded in her chest to him in the flesh with new eyes, witnessing just how human he seemed to be. His lovely, long locs fell to his broad shoulders, covered in his black leather jacket, matching t-shirt, jeans, and boots. He was a gorgeous man or thing, that smooth, deep brown skin and those deceptively sweet, mysterious eyes observing her with a flick of his tongue across his bottom lip before his features settled back into what looked like the same curiosity she held for him.

He kept his distance and Nyma believed anew that perhaps he was as thoughtful as he seemed. Yet it did nothing to slow down her heart rate as her better judgment marred her brain with the recollection of his fangs in her thigh...but she spoke to him, anyhow.

"Can you come over, please?" she said softly. She expected him to walk down his steps, round his white-picket fence, and stroll up the sidewalk until he entered her yard. Instead, Stephon took a couple of glances over his shoulders before he was suddenly at the foot of her porch. Nyma didn't see him move a muscle and she was staring right at him. She fumbled back, startled, and bumped into her door.

"My bad." His deep voice was hushed as he threw his hands up. He took a peek at Maddie who was sprawled out on the grass and didn't freak out at his abrupt appearance before his gaze returned to Nyma. "Surprised she ain't barkin'," Stephon piped up with a slight joke when she didn't say anything, shoving his hands into his pockets. His lips tugged with his warm smile that threatened to make her melt but she pursed her lips, still flustered by him.

"Yeah, that is weird...but what's weirder is I know you have something to do with it," Nyma replied. Stephon straightened up then at the accusatory tone of her voice and parted his lips to speak before she interrupted him to add, "What all can you do? Force yourself into my dreams?"

"Whoa, whoa. I can explain but can we talk about this inside?" Stephon asked a bit quietly but Nyma shook her head.

"We can talk right here. I don't know how I feel about you being in my home..." She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered. He noticed and let out a disheartened sigh.

"I understand that. And I respect it. Just...hear me out. You seen what happened when you uninvited me. And I can't come in unless you let me. You can kick me out at any time. But I just wanna talk to you in private..." Stephon spoke like he considered each word before he said them. He shifted his weight back and forth on his feet like he was...nervous. She couldn't fathom a creature like him could be nervous speaking to her. It made his next words try to soften her heart as he said, "I owe you an apology. Can we sit down and talk?"

"How can I trust you won't...bite me again, huh?" Nyma said sternly yet under her breath, the words sounding crazy aloud. 

"Because I don't wanna hurt you. That was an accident 'cause I was drunk. I'm sorry." Stephon watched her with his soft eyes damn near pleading with her. 

Her heart churned as her emotions pushed and pulled it in two directions, and she chose the one that led him to her doorway as she stepped aside and said, "Come in then. Let's talk."

Stephon looked hesitant before he took a few steps up onto her porch. Maddie trotted past him at the sound of the door swinging open and rushed inside as he followed her lead. Nyma locked the door and pointed to her sofa in the living room a few feet away. He fell onto a cushion on one end and she curled up on the opposite side. The space between had a pulse, ebbing and flowing with the unresolved energy that tied them together. Nyma could feel it like it was his hands reaching across the sofa to caress her. It was heavy yet airy, cool yet warm, broody yet lusty.

It made her chest flutter with a rapid heartbeat at him being here again, near her again, as she waited for him to speak...

Yet when the silence became so full that Nyma herself choked up, she looked to Stephon to say something as he studied her as if waiting for permission. "Well...?" Nyma spoke first, her voice sounding as anxious as she felt.

Stephon was reclined back with his legs spread wide and his elbow on the armrest, his fingers stroking his trimmed beard as he tilted his chin up like he was in deep thought. And when his deep eyes met hers, she felt herself quiver like she could see exactly what those bewitching thoughts were...

"First things first...I am so sorry I hurt you, Nyma. Not a moment has gone by since that I didn't regret it. And I know you've probably heard that before, but I swear it won't happen again. I hope you can forgive me." Stephon sat up a bit as his already deep tone dropped an octave with humility. She could feel it and she felt herself begrudgingly soften more.

It took her a moment to hush her thoughts that still screamed scared whispers in her ear about him. She knew she should heed them but her curiosity still screamed louder. "I forgive you..." she murmured. "So, second things second?"

"You been dreamin' about me..." Stephon uttered with a hint of that alluring smile of his, a flash of his grillz peeking through his lips. Their eyes locked together as she felt another quiver fall over her. She nodded once and he professed, "It could be one of two things. I'm in your blood now because I tasted it...or you just missed me."

She felt her pulse quicken at both options and it seemed to make his smile a bit bigger like he could feel it, as well. He licked his lips and asked, "Did you? Because I missed you, too, beautiful."

"Now is not the time to flirt with me, Stephon," Nyma ignored his sentiment as she stammered and hugged her knees to her chest. She needed to comfort herself as her heart thumped so hard that her whole body was throbbing. But it wouldn't settle with his eyes focused on her like he was still thirsty..."I just found out that vampires are real, that you're a vampire that I let..."

Her words stopped short as she ran out of breath from her nerves. She took a deep breath before she had a thought and continued. "Whatever you did to Maddie...the look you gave her to calm her down...did you do that to me?"

"No, never. I thought about it, though, that same night. I hate seein' you upset like this and knowin' it's my fault. But I ain't gonna glamour you."

Nyma almost considered asking him if he would just so she could breathe a little easier. Yet when she gasped another big breath, Stephon slowly scooted closer to her until she felt his cool embrace around her. It was odd to be frightened and consoled by the same thing, but as her breathing evened out, Nyma couldn't deny how sinfully good she felt held to his strong chest. It reminded her of the other night when they went dancing, her head on his chest then as they moved together...

Before he bit her. The thought floated in her mind but it was drowned out by his mesmeric voice as he nuzzled his chin atop her afro curls. "I meant it when I said I'd never hurt you on purpose. You been through enough of that shit. I've been around a long time and I haven't felt the urge to protect someone in just as long. Until I met you."

His words enveloped her just as tight as his arms and made that familiar warmth flourish in her body. Though she couldn't help but whisper against his shirt, "Stephon...how old are you?" as she listened to his baffling heartbeat.

"Do you really wanna know?" he whispered back. She nodded and glanced up at him as he gazed down at her with those eyes she knew had seen the world in ways she never would. "Two-hundred-eighteen," he responded.

Nyma didn't know what to say to that without asking a million questions about him and his past—and she didn't know if it would be rude to pry. So instead, she remarked, "So, you won't glamour me. And I appreciate that...but will you...show me your fangs again?"

Stephon's chest shook with a brief yet bellowing laugh. "You sure that's a good idea? You finally stopped shakin'..." He gently squeezed her body as she relaxed against him in his arms.

"I just wanna see how they work...if you don't mind." Her eyes flitted to his thick lips and he chuckled again, exposing his teeth. When his fangs suddenly sprung out, just as long and sharp as she remembered, her body betrayed her with a tremble. However, she felt the difference this time as her curiosity contorted into ungodly temptation...

"Can you show me again?" Nyma asked when he retracted them. He obliged her, this time letting her lightly touch the left one with the tip of her pointer finger. "How can you...kiss with these?" she said in a quiet voice.

"You would know. We kissed when I was too drunk to pull 'em back. They don't get in the way. See?" Stephon replied and took her hand into his. He placed a soft kiss on her knuckles and Nyma thought she would swoon as a small gasp left her. 

"Show me again..." she repeated in a feverish breath. He did and she felt herself lean into him to press a soft kiss of her own to his lips. 

Nyma was uncertain how to make sense of this deadly attraction—one that surprised Stephon, too, as he was still for a second before he entwined his lips with hers—and yet it made perfect sense to crave his tongue in her mouth to tease hers...his hands on her waist as he pulled her onto his lap...and his voice in her ear as he purred, "What else you want me to show you, beautiful?"

"Everything..."

Stephon lifted her into his arms as he rose from the sofa when Nyma suggested they go upstairs to her bedroom. Maddie was on the bed and fast asleep, and she felt bad for disturbing her but thankfully her dog eased up and out of the room to let him close the door behind her before he carefully sat Nyma on her queen mattress. 

She laid back on her elbows, her eyes fastened to him at the foot of her bed while he tugged off each layer of his clothes and revealed how immaculate his brown skin was underneath, toned with muscles and covered with distinct tattoos he'd been hiding from her. Yet his more distinct feature hung between his thighs, silky brown, thick, and curving just to the left. Nyma's pulse quickened once again but between her thighs and beneath her black leggings...leggings that he soon peeled off of her along with her tank top and cardigan.

He took a moment to drink in her bare, round, brown curves, making her feel coy yet confident all at once. "You're more beautiful than I could have ever imagined," Stephon claimed before his hands claimed her skin, roaming her legs as he pulled her to the edge of the bed. 

"Thank you..." Nyma moaned softly as he began kissing along her calves as he fell to his knees on her carpet. Those cool, soft hands and even cooler, softer lips made her shiver as he gripped and kissed her thighs that he spread open. For a split second, she worried his fangs would appear again when his lips brushed her lower lips, already slick from his teasing. He made them soaked when he slipped his tongue between them to taste her yet again and she flinched abruptly as another moan left her.

"What's wrong?" Stephon paused to ask softly as he held her hips. 

"Yeah, um, it's just...I thought you were goin' to bite me again," Nyma confessed and then she felt silly. But his warm smile soothed her before he planted a kiss on the spot he had bitten just days ago.

"Naw, beautiful. This pretty pussy deserves to be pleased not harmed..." He dipped his head down to drag his tongue over and through her soft folds and make her fall back onto her bed with a gasp. When their eyes met again, she saw that darkness that intrigued her, called to her, and troubled her as she felt aroused by the idea. It was like he could read her mind as a flicker of that darkness shifted between curiosity and mischievousness when he voiced in a hushed tone, "...Unless you want me to make it hurt, baby."

Nyma felt herself nod her head before she had a moment to think about it, her body demanding something she didn't know she'd ever want. As Stephon licked and suckled her with a tenderness that made her clutch at her sheets, she heard herself whine to him, "Do it...please..."

"Yeah? That's what you want?" he asked just as tenderly and she nodded again. That's when she observed his lips parting as his fangs grew and her heart rate grew, too. He ran his tongue over that same spot before he marked it once more, slowly sinking his fangs into her. She cried out, the pain just as fierce as before, stealing her breath and welling her eyes with tears...and yet she welcomed it with her cries rising with his name, especially as he gently rubbed at her clit to pacify that pain.

It was over before she knew it as Stephon only sipped for a handful of seconds, but her wound dripped red down her thigh and to the sheets. He licked at it after he pricked his tongue to use a drop of his blood to seal it. Yet the experience played out longer in Nyma's mind, her chest rising and falling as she trembled, feeling wetter and cumming faster when he returned his mouth to savor her nectar as he did her blood. She didn't stop shaking as he crawled up her body with messy kisses that met her lips.

"You aight, baby?" Stephon asked as his hands nestled the sides of her face. Nyma knew she didn't look it as she nodded but she felt more than alright...she felt enraptured. 

Her pupils were wide open to see the mesmerizing monster as he held her and kissed her slowly. Her body was ablaze as his cool, strong one lightly rested atop hers and hooked her thighs around his waist. Her mind had finally shut out her fears and only let in ecstasy as he let himself inside...

He hid pleasure there with rolling thrusts that found every sweet spot and stroked them like they were delicate. Her sweet, tortured moans indicated as much as each long stroke stretched her for him and gave him more room to hide that pleasure as he now planted it in her roots. Nyma's fingers laced through his locs that fell around her face, pulling at the root as she felt him sow that pleasure into her over and over, deep and pounding. She watched him, too, seeing the pleasure fill his dark eyes that lit up with her moans, a few falling from his lips when his hands fell to her hips.

"Tell me where you feel me, baby..." Stephon demanded with a soft grunt, his hips grinding steadily deeper as he squeezed her in his grasp.

"I...unhhh, in my stomach," Nyma whimpered back, her mind steadily going blank as he got deeper into it.

"Mm, that's it? I need to go deeper then..." He lifted one of her thighs to his shoulder and listened to her whimpers lift to shattered screams. His fingers wrapped around her throat as he brought his lips to her ear to whisper, "I want you to feel me in your soul..."

Nyma couldn't find the words to utter that she did. She felt him fusing with her, burying more pleasure, euphoric pleasure, that consumed her like flames, that made her greedy like a fire out of control for more of him. All of him.

She could feel her erratic pulse beneath his thumb and in between fluttering blinks she could see him eyeing it, biting his lip before his fangs showed themselves. His tongue swiped over them and his grillz as his beautiful face twisted with pleasure and confliction...until Nyma purred to him, "Stephon...drink from me."

Her words made him growl, made his hips stutter as he pounded into her, and made her kiss his lips before she moaned, "Drink, baby..."

He didn't make her repeat herself again as his hand on her throat caressed her cheek to carefully hold her face down to the pillow under her head, exposing her vein that tempted him as he gave in with a kiss and then a gentle bite that Nyma shuddered from.

Yet as she felt her blood surge into his mouth, she felt those flames erupt, her pain, pleasure, and angst marrying and birthing a new sensation within her that didn't have a name until she sobbed it over and over.

"Stephon."

"Stephon!"

Her face felt wet with tears from both the incredible aches as he fed from her and as he gripped her ass to push inside deeper still and pull from her an orgasm that felt infinite. Nyma realized it was her blood, too, that dribbled on her face as he hovered over it after yanking away from her, mouth agape with pleasure, lips and fangs stained red as he threw his head back in a hauntingly beautiful sight. She reached for his face to bring her lips to his, tasting herself in a new way, before she tightened her arms around him as he pressed his forehead to hers and fell into that infinite bliss with her. His moans were an enchanting melody to her as his hard thrusts slowed down until he gave her everything...just as she wanted.

"Nyma," he breathed along her skin, his tongue following right after to clean the blood that had dried on her neck. Her body glowed with both a dull pain and heightened pleasure as she eased her eyes open and weakly turned her head to the sound of his voice. He lay next to her, his arm around her waist as his fingertips traced lazy circles on her hip. That warm smile of his made her lips twitch with one back but she felt too drained to commit to it. "I'm sorry to wake you up. I wanna let you sleep but...I think I should change your sheets first. That okay?" Stephon said softly and she nodded. 

He took her into his arms and carried from her the bed and to her chaise lounge chair near the window where he let her rest. She watched him through weary eyes that sprung open with a tiny gasp when she saw the bloodied mess her olive comforter, sheets, and pillowcases had become. Stephon bunched them up to his chest, left the room in the blink of an eye, and returned to her bedroom with a throw blanket in just a few more blinks before she heard her washing machine running downstairs.

"Did I lose a lot of blood?" Nyma murmured, more curious than worried as Stephon covered her with the blanket.

"Naw, baby. I wouldn't have that," he replied and sat down next to her. She felt his arms fall around her as she brought her head to his cold, bare chest. "How you feelin' right now?"

She hummed to herself as she racked her brain to find a word for what she felt, but she quickly realized, like before, that the feeling was born just now from the wondrous thing that held her in ways no other man ever did or could.

And Nyma named it as she mumbled to him, "Ethereal."

・・━━━━━━━━ ∞ ━━━━━━━━・・

If there was ever a thing too perfect for this world, it was Nyma.

As the sun glared outside the next day, Stephon rested in total darkness in his bed, her beautiful face illuminating his dreams. Her voice found him there, too, calling his name and pulling him through a radiant tunnel that led to an even more brilliant place as he knew she'd be there.

"Stephon."

"Stephon!"

"They know what you did, Stephon."

"They're comin' to kill you."

His body jerked in ill response to the tone of her voice as it pivoted into a deeper one. One that he still recognized. One that he hadn't heard in close to a century. 

That bright light he was being sucked into felt ominous now and Stephon was powerless to fight it, an unusual feeling as his strength never faulted him before.

That voice was just as strong, panic lacing throughout it as it called to him a final time.

"Wake up. Leave the girl behind and run. Now. Before it's too late."

.

.

.

Thanks for reading! 🖤

Sorry for the wait and I hope you enjoyed! I thought this series would be just two parts but I am so in love with Vampire Swerve. 🥹

Before we get back to our regularly scheduled and non-spooky program, I gotta write just 2 more Halloween fics, 1 for Papi Priest and 1 for Roman. Because it's still Halloween to me, dammit! 😈

Tag squad 🫶🏾

@harlem11680 @mzv11 @visionarymode @miyuhpapayuh @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @angelreigns444 @vebner37 @dreamsinfocus @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @jeyusos-girl @nayys-world @msbigredmachine @purplehairgawdess @dayjlovesromance @mohawkmama @smuts-whore @po3ticb3auty @alyyaanna @usosthetics @murrylove @papireigns-05 @vintage-pvssy @christinabae @bebesobrielo @urasunflower @iguessilikewrestlingnow @seeingstarks @555sage @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @theninthwonder @tabletheofhead @weirdosandhopelessromantics @venusesworld @ariieeesworld @twocentuar @sassginaswanmills @gomussy @theglamclosetsl @baeusos @2-muchsauce @empressdede @woahdude9481 @browngalmal @twocentuar

#swerve strickland #swerve strickland fanfiction #swerve strickland fic #vampire story #swerve strickland smut #vampire smut #swerve strickland x oc #swerve x oc #aew fanfiction #aew fic #aew smut #all elite wrestling #spilled ink

[harmshake]

The Gentle Horror, Part 3

What is done in the dark will always be brought to light...

Vampire Jimmy Uso x Nyma (fem!black!oc) | 18+, NSFW, mentions of graphic m*rder, domestic violence, blood, and smut | 7,474 words

a/n: We're back! I decided that instead of rewriting the entire series to edit in Vampire Jimmy, I'd just edit out Vampire Swerve. 💅🏾

Happy reading! Read Parts 1 and 2 or my non-spooky stuff here, if you'd like. ✨

"They know what you did, Stephon."

"They're comin' to kill you."

"Wake up. Leave the girl behind and run. Now. Before it's too late."

The dream of Nyma's delicate and beautiful voice had swiftly warped into a nightmare of a deep, panic-stricken tone, trying to shake Stephon awake after a few moments of him feeling trapped within the warning he didn't want to hear.

He knew that voice and knew it well. Daphne, his maker, his ex-lover, and a vampire he hadn't spoken to in nearly a century. Stephon wanted to be surprised that their blood link still connected them after all this time, after he'd sworn her off and crossed the nation to leave her alone, but that surprise abruptly melted into the realization that they could never be separated. Not when it was her blood that ran through his veins and made him what he was. A creature of the night. A vampire that was apparently in such grave danger that Daphne set aside her hurt for him abandoning her to call out to him, help him.

Stephon had his reasons to sever his ties to the woman as though he owed her his life, their time together was just as destructive to it. He had craved peace, quiet, and calm after decades of insanity and sin. Peace, quiet, and calm that Nyma and her beautiful, brown eyes, soft skin, and even softer heart blessed him with when he least expected it, but needed it most.

He knew as soon as the sun went down that day he would go to her, rid himself of the fear that swirled in his mind from Daphne's caution from wherever she was, hopefully not near, so that he could be near Nyma, ridding her clothes and hiding himself in her warmth that made him feel not only alive but safe. Stephon knew better than to dismiss his maker's message as he also knew what he'd done...and that certainly the consequences were imminent.

Yet he wouldn't put himself or Nyma in harm's way, already thinking ahead of how to tell her of his gruesome mistake and to come away with him to leave it all behind him. She wasn't happy here, regardless, not when she was alone in a new state with no friends or family. Not when Tyree, her husband, the only person she knew, was dead. Not when it was he who killed him.

He was an abusive piece of shit, a low-down nigga, and Stephon had no qualms about scrubbing the earth clean of him. Yet he did so not at Nyma's behest, but at his impulse, something he wasn't certain how to speak to her about, but he would. He had to. And he had to believe that she felt those blood-rushing, delicious, and deep emotions for him as he did for her to trust him when he confessed that he murdered him for her good—that he only wanted to protect her.

Just like Stephon wanted to protect her now. If danger was after him, surely it would be after her as well since he had revealed what he was to her. Stephon shook again in his sleep as the nightmare, as Daphne's voice, finally released him, his eyes popping open with a jolt shooting through his body that lay in his bed. He didn't have to adjust his groggy eyes to know it was still sunlight beyond his basement bedroom, sunlight that would destroy his body like that of a lit torch setting ablaze a bundle of sticks, yet Stephon's gaze sharpened with immediate awareness that there was danger, the danger, right here and surrounding his bed as his eyes widened to see three tall men he didn't recognize in matching black turtlenecks and jeans like the Texas heat outside wasn't blistering.

However, Stephon did recognize that the heat would never touch them, not when they were cold-blooded, not when they were vampires just like him. Vampires sent here to kill him. Before he could think to flee with his incredible speed, the three men used their combined and even quicker speed to pin him down to his mattress, two of them at either end of him with large and fucking strong hands holding down his arms and ankles as the third man retrieved a wooden stake from the holster on his belt.

"Shit, wait, pl—" Stephon's eyes protruded with panic, the same panic he could still hear enmeshed in his brain where Daphne's fear thought to bury itself for his own good. But it was too late, his words too late, falling on deaf ears, anyway, as he knew the men would not hear his pleas, only his brief scream as the man hovering above him drove the stake into his chest, through his heart. He did it with such ease and force like that of a knife sinking into supple, human skin as Stephon was once human, too, once immortal unless struck in this brutal and specific way...that ease and force unsettling yet short-lived, short-lived like the millions of thoughts of his every wrongdoing, regret, and wasted love, as he could do nothing more than stare into the eyes of his murderer before his blood spewed from his chest and blurred his vision. 

Vision that obscured as it faded to black in just seconds as he faintly heard Nyma's voice in the corner of his mind a final time as she sang a spiritual his mother used to, a song he had not heard Nyma sing and never would, yet he prayed with his last breath that his soul would linger in the ether to perhaps hear it, hear her, in another lifetime...

・・━━━━━━━━━━ ∞ ━━━━━━━━━━・・

The kill had taken only a second, but Jon felt it for hours later.

It didn't matter how many vampires he'd witnessed in their final moments, didn't matter how many times he restrained them to keep them still for their demise, or, worse, how many times it'd been him with the wooden stake in his grasp before he wedged it into their chests to pierce their undead hearts...their deaths were still deaths. And yet he knew they were justified, or, better, well-deserved.

Jon may have carried with him the weight of ending a life, but if it was a life that unabashedly tormented and ended another, he believed it was only right to correct the sin with another that cleansed the earth of their evil. It was not only his belief but his sworn duty as a bounty hunter, his only prey vampires that dared threaten to expose their existence with violence against unsuspecting, and usually innocent, human beings.

Jon was human once, a long while ago, yet his heart still bled with the news of war, death, and savagery toward his distant kin—especially if it was at the advantaged hands of a cold beast whose strength would eternally overpower a fragile, defenseless human. The mere thought "boiled" his blood enough to make it his life work to protect not only vampires but the humans whom they hid themselves from.

As he and his bounty hunter associates stood around the bedside of the remains of this cruel vampire, his blood splattered along his sheets, the floor, and in every direction, including upon Jon's long braids that fell over his shoulders and left cheek, he smudged the back of his hand to the stain on his skin before they collected what was left of his body to dispose into large, black suitcases lined with plastic. They worked impossibly quickly, seamlessly, packing up him, the sheets, and anything that his blood had touched before they cleaned with hydrogen peroxide and other products to leave the basement pristine and untouched to a mortal's gaze.

Yet, suddenly, Jon couldn't shake the distinct pull of guilt that touched his heart from the mortal who lived just next door, that pull growing stronger as he and his team filed out of Stephon's home through the front door whence they came, knowing no human would detect their presence as they were careful to act at this particular time of day when the sun was high in the hot sky and they were all shuffled away to their jobs in the city. Where a normal vampire would burst into flames from that hot sky, Jon, like his mates, was gifted with the ability to bask in the sun, the particular blessing known to vampires as daywalking, a blessing only bestowed upon bounty hunters by the Liege who depended on them to work tirelessly, day or night, to collect their bounty in good time.

But the human next door, the one who yanked at Jon's heart with her pain so blisteringly blatant that it felt like his own, was home at an odd time, tucked away in her bedroom upstairs and beneath her covers as she tried to sleep but could not. Jon couldn't see her as he and the hunters carried their luggage to their windowless black van to stow their haul, but he could hear her perfectly. Shuffling with restlessness in her cotton sheets, breath huffing with frustration for the lack of rest, lack of peace as every other horror tried to steal it. He knew of those horrors as it was why he was here in her neighborhood: To assassinate the vampire who murdered her husband.

However, Jon could feel with his heightened sense of discernment that this human woman knew nothing of that horror, only what it left behind...hurt, confusion, and a dull sense of healing that he felt trying to blossom in her heart from the vampire who rested in pieces in the back of their truck to be burned in the desolate woods as they closed the doors and climbed inside. That was the guilt that tried to rip at Jon's chest as they pulled away from the two-story home that once housed a beast who no longer could plague this otherwise quiet, lush neighborhood.

But it was another death to plague that poor human woman. Another mystery for her never to solve. And, obliquely, it was his fault. His brown eyes glanced at her home growing smaller in the passenger side mirror as they drove down the street, yet his guilt did not grow any smaller with it. And Jon knew then that it would not unless he did what he knew was right: Protect the humans who could not protect themselves.

・・━━━━━━━━━━ ∞ ━━━━━━━━━━・・

Four days.

Four days without Stephon.

It was unlike him to not slip into her home as soon as the sun went down, his home unusually silent when she went to knock upon his door each day, and uncanny for him not to at least speak to her from his own, her blood mingling with his own, too, in a way that she heard his sweet, beautiful voice between her ears even if he was nowhere near.

Yet that was the most disturbing part for Nyma. If Stephon had suddenly gotten too busy to see her, she could understand. He did not lead some simple life that she could even begin to comprehend. But she couldn't hear him anymore. She couldn't feel his presence, something like that of a small void spreading within her heart with eternal blackness where he used to be.

Nyma was only human, only knew what death felt like on the side of the living, the way it gnawed at the heart, but she knew this feeling well as it was the same one that haunted her when Tyree, her late husband, went missing. Stephon was in trouble or...he was not on this side any longer.

The thought kept her up at night and kept her tossing and turning in bed during the day when she tried to catch up on sleep. If there was one thing she was grateful for was the fact that she worked remotely, and yet being home alone in a viciously empty house—save for her golden retriever, Maddie, who could sense her sadness and tried to lick away her tears when they fell from her face as Nyma gently pushed her away—felt like a special kind of torture.

It was already torture to live in a new state so far from home, to live in this new place with her husband who tortured her in his heavy-handed way, to live in this new place with no one to save her until...

Stephon's deep brown eyes gleamed in her mind's eye as Nyma lay in bed, glistening tears running down her cheeks to both sides of the pillow behind her head before she closed her eyes to see his gaze better. Not realizing that the last time she would see it would be the other night after he held her in his arms as he rocked between her legs, rocking her soul with thrusts that she felt somewhere even deeper, even more ethereal. He drank from her that night, his sharp fangs breaking her skin along her delicate throat and hurting her so good, a passion that Nyma never believed existed before Stephon unveiled his true form to her.

A gentle monster. A lovely beast. And yet still merely a mesmerizing man.

Now that man was missing and Nyma wasn't sure if she could handle it. She wasn't handling it, truthfully, the last four days a blur that left the room spinning, her world tilting off axis, and she saw no other way to balance it than escaping into the night, sinking behind her steering wheel, and following the dark roads wherever they took her.

Those first four nights, Nyma felt like she was still searching for Stephon, hoping to see him walking along the bordering woods, sitting on a park bench, hoping to just see him anywhere. When she did not, the dark roads led her to a bar that sat on the corner just outside her neighborhood. Nyma wasn't particularly a drinker, that was more Tyree's taste before he let the liquor fuel his frustrations that he took out on her, and yet she still found herself heading inside after peeping at her reflection in the rearview mirror to adjust the black headwrap that hid her dark, afro curls that she hadn't bothered to touch since sorrow sapped her of her strength. Even her brown skin suffered for it, usually luminous but now pale, both from her sorrow and those cigarettes that she reserved to smoke out that sorrow, going through two packs in the last 72 hours.

She wasn't proud of it, especially when she thought of Stephon's words to her that she was too gorgeous to smoke, but like him and his Hennessy, she had her poison picked, too. And without him here, she felt the need to down more poisons, anything that soothed her nerves with a warm touch...although she had begun to fall in love with his cool touch...

Nyma felt the cool gravel beneath her knees when she fell onto it as she stumbled out of the bar an hour later, too drunk to walk and certainly to drive, but she wanted to go home, and by the grace of whatever god was above she made it there to crawl into her bed, Maddie leaping onto the sheets with her to rest her big head on her waist, and cry herself to sleep as she thought about how that same god could inflict mourning on her time and time again.

When the time was past noon the next day, Nyma was still tangled in her sheets with dried tears and drool on the fabric, only waking when Maddie barked and would not stop. The sound didn't cause her headache, but worsened it, compelling her to snatch the sheets off her body and stare at her bare feet sprouting from the ripped, black jeans she'd worn to the bar last night as she didn't want to fall down the stairs on her way to quiet Maddie by fixing her a late breakfast.

Yet Maddie was not at her bowl in the kitchen but barking and whining for a different reason, standing in her foyer with her hackles standing up, too, her eyes trained on the front door like there was someone behind it. Nyma's eye twitched with her heart twitching along with it from anxiety and excitement that it could finally be him. She clumsily rushed to the mirror that hung to the left of her door as she wiped at her eyes and mouth and adjusted her red tank top to look as presentable as she could, never mind that he had already seen her vulnerable and still called her beautiful.

A few quiet knocks then called from behind her door and Nyma called back, "Coming!" as she petted Maddie on her head to calm her and quickly led her out to the fenced-in backyard before she nearly ran back to her door where the knocks rang again. Her heart pounded hard in her chest to see Stephon as she unlocked and pulled open the door, but it sank just as hard when she then remembered he could not stand in the sunlight. Instead, she spotted a tall, light-skinned brown man standing on her porch.

"Um, yes? Can I help you?" Nyma blurted as she squinted her eyes from the blaring afternoon sun assaulting her bleary eyes. His shoulders were almost broad enough to block it but he shifted on his feet to let it shine on her face, his face handsome yet slightly stern and concerned, even as he attempted a polite smile at her.

"Hello, ma'am. Are you Nyma? My name is Jon. I'm a friend of Stephon's. Can I talk with you 'bout him for a minute?" Jon's voice was just as polite as his smile, deep and laced with kindness and more of that concern Nyma could see crinkling his features. That same concern shifted to dread in her chest to hear Stephon's name come out of this stranger's mouth.

"Y-yeah, uh, please, come in," she stammered as she let Jon slowly walk past her and into her home where he stood awkwardly like he didn't know what to do with himself. She watched the long, thick fingers of his left hand twitch before he shoved both hands into the front pockets of his black joggers, switching around on his foot to face her when she said, "Have a seat, please. Do you, um, want anything to drink or—"

"Naw, I'm straight. Just want a few minutes of your time, if that's okay," Jon said without sitting down. His demeanor was already reticent even though he seemed nice enough, yet Nyma felt her dread burrow deeper into her chest at who he was and what he wanted to talk about concerning Stephon which would only take "a few minutes."

"Did something happen to him?" Nyma whispered as he parted his lips to speak, the truth trying to wriggle into her soul that she just wanted to confirm without further dragging it out. 

Jon's face remained stern, concerned, yet soft as he replied, "Yeah. He's fled town. There's a warrant out for his arrest."

Nyma's eyes widened once more at the news, first panicked but then confused as Stephon was a sweet and quiet man, he had to be as no one knew what he was but her. She wondered if Jon knew, too. However, she didn't ask, wrapping her arms around herself as she tried to find the words to ask instead, "Arrest?! For what?"

"No easy way to say this," he said under his breath with a heavy sigh before he added, "Stephon killed someone."

"Killed? Who? W-what?!" Nyma spat immediately in disbelief. She knew Stephon had a notably noxious way of "eating his dinner," but she also knew he wasn't the type to be greedy. The night that would never leave her mind of when he feasted on her, he couldn't have been more tender...

Now Jon's eyes widened slightly at her question and he paused as if to silently debate with himself before he let out another tense sigh, this time his gaze holding hers. "He made me swear on my life not to tell anyone. Jesus. I'm so sorry to be the one to tell you when it shoulda been him before he went on the run. He...he killed Tyree. I'm sorry. I'm so fuckin' sorry."

Jon's hushed words rushed out of him before he rushed to her to catch her as her body tried to collapse to the floor, the blood rushing from her brain as Nyma couldn't stand or think straight, blotches of black filling her mind and vision. She didn't have to think too hard to realize all at once that what Jon said was true, all of the evidence she couldn't see as she got lost in Stephon's mysterious yet sweet gaze distracting her from reality...

The night she met Stephon, he seemed wary of her bruised cheek like he knew who caused it. That same night, Tyree was murdered with a snapped neck that his autopsy report claimed was a clean break with no signs of struggle. Almost immediately after, Stephon cozied up into her life to replace him with his promise to protect her the way her husband never did.

Nyma heard a loud cry echo through the patches of darkness that did not sound like her own but she felt her vocal cords quiver from its strength, saw Jon in spots through that darkness as he held her to his cool chest in a hug that did little to comfort her or muffle her sobs.

"I'm sorry," Jon repeated softly from far away before he pulled her to her couch a few feet away. Nyma's chest heaved with heavy, stuttering breaths as she tried to blink her teary ears to focus on her hands balled up on her lap, a technique she'd read ages ago that claimed to help quell panic attacks. Yet as Jon reappeared with a glass in his hands that her sights focused on then, she knew nothing would help unless there was a stronger substance in that glass besides the water he brought her.

He tried to sit down next to her once she took it from him, but then he seemed to think against it, staying upright as Nyma took a shaky sip of the water and nearly choked when another sob rushed from her throat. He grabbed the glass back from her to place it on her coffee table, his voice still hushed as he murmured, "Shit. I hate to drop this shit on you and leave. I really do. I wasn't supposed to come here in the first place, but it ain't sit right with me for you to be left in the dark 'bout all this."

Nyma glanced up at him and tried to hear him as a mild ringing in her ears threatened to mute him, but she'd heard enough. All she could do was nod and put her face in her hands as that darkness came to consume her, anyway, only able to kind of hear Jon as he hesitated to move before he quietly shuffled to her front door to let himself out.

In the long stretch of silence that passed after he left, Nyma felt frozen to her couch, her cries frozen in her chest, as her pale, brown skin became paler and cool as if her heart had at last, after so many mournings, froze over, too.

・・━━━━━━━━━━ ∞ ━━━━━━━━━━・・

Nine years earlier...

Red light poured through the dark nightclub, the strobes vibrating with the bass of DeJ Loaf's "Me U & Hennessy" as a beautiful, black woman vibrated her body with a sensual swirl of her hips on Jon's lap as he sat on the white leather sofa in his section. He forgot her name and he didn't bother to ask again, too gone off the Remy to care as he cared more about how the thick curves of her ass felt in his hands, watching how it bounced when she bent over to twerk for him.

"You gotta girlfriend?" she asked in his ear once she leaned back against his chest, her long braids spilling on him and her soft, cool lips grazing his skin and making him shiver with the need to feel those lips on his dick that tried to poke her through his jeans.

"Do it matter?" he asked back gruffly, his hands gruffly pawing at her ample breasts in her strapless dress before he sluggishly remembered they were not alone in this section, his boys and the girls they entertained surrounding them. Yet when the woman's delicate moan surrounded his ears, Jon suddenly didn't care to hear or see anything else if it wasn't her leaned over again, face down, ass up, so he could make her whine more of those pretty moans to him.

Yeah, he had a girlfriend at home but she was likely asleep at this ungodly hour of the night, giving him enough time to slip away and do what he pleased as he saw fit. He was a grown man, a strong-willed man, and with the brown liquor coursing through his veins, that strong will led him to the woman's apartment to fit himself inside her with her legs squeezed around his waist and his lips on hers as she let him sip more of her pretty moans as he made her cum.

When she moved her lips to his neck, Jon heard himself moan, too, and felt himself get lost in her tight, wet, and bizarrely cool depths and now her kiss as she found a spot on his skin to suck deeply.

"Goddamn, girl," he moaned again as he thrust even deeper, her odd temperature not hindering his climax creeping up on him, gripping her waist for support as she gripped his naked back with nails scratching at his skin. Her teeth gently scraped his throat where she kissed him, as well, before they nipped a little hard. He cursed again and again, louder, when she bit him harder, a white-hot pain unlike any he'd ever felt shooting through his body when his sloshed brain caught up to the fact that her teeth penetrated his flesh.

Jon tried to stagger up and off of her but she was all of a sudden strong and stronger than him, pinning him to her body as she sucked from his neck with such force he felt lightheaded instantly. His throaty, orgasmic cries spiked into gurgling cries for help as blood filled his mouth, blood that she licked from his lips when it spilled before she continued at his neck. He worked to tear himself away but it was futile as this random bitch had him trapped and, worse yet, he felt dizziness travel from his foggy head and through his limbs where his strength rapidly teetered off.

He had never hit a woman in his life but with his remaining consciousness, he tried to choke her and fight for his life—life that he felt swiftly drain from him and into her mouth, the sounds of her eerily satisfied moans resounding in his ears as every other sound and color in the room dissipated into haunting nothingness. Nothingness he didn't want to meet as it effortlessly swallowed him up against his will.

"Jon."

"It's Jon, ain't it?"

"Get up, baby. Please. Come to me."

He heard her voice beyond him somewhere in the nothingness, her voice that was not Imani's, not his girlfriend's, and he became desperate to cry, scream, and curse at it as if this was the afterlife, he knew he had been sent to hell.

It had to be hell if that woman, that fucking creature, was here, had to be with the distant screams he heard all around him, and yet he was awfully frigid, his body throbbing with the coldest chills and the sharpest pain that kept him frozen wherever he was, his strength still seemingly absent from his body that felt like ice. 

Yet when he finally gathered the willpower to slant open his eyes, Jon saw the interior of her bedroom again. The same moonlight billowed through her lavender curtains. The same pearl-white fan that spun lazily from the ceiling. The same round lips attached to that woman, that creature, who stared at him strangely and made him want to run for his life, especially as those lips that were once moist with her red lipgloss now crusted over with flakes of dried blood. His blood.

But he could only move his eyes, eyes that hurt like hell to open wider in fear to take in the monster that greeted him to hell.

"Yes, you're dead. But not really. But you mine now, baby. I'm so glad it worked. I'm glad you're up." She lept from the bed to leave Jon paralyzed on it as his eyes struggled to follow her. Another freezing chill shook his body, the pain so excruciating that a whimper slipped from his throat yet stopped short of his lips that he couldn't open. 

"You cold? That'll pass soon, I think. Then you should be able to walk again," she said with a toss of her hand in the air as she breezed out of her bedroom. She returned with the breeze, a speed Jon didn't truly recognize as speed but as her disappearing and reappearing with a young, lanky, white man, no older than 25-years-old, writhing in her arms, his screams sounding just like the ones he faintly heard when he woke up. And yet the woman put him to sleep, her hands snaking around his neck to twist and silence his agonized cries like they never existed. 

Jon wanted to cry from the horrendous sight and the cruel sound...but something about the way the man smelled made the pain in his body throb with new intent—not just pain like he was injured, but pain like he was starving.

"You need to drink. That'll help you heal faster. Here." She was at her bedside in the blink of an eye, holding the man like he weighed nothing, gripping him by his short, blond hair as the rest of him tumbled to her carpet, shoving his exposed neck up to Jon's lips.

Thick tears dotted his eyes as he realized she wouldn't do to the man whatever she had done to him, leaving him for dead and making those tears seep from the corner of his eyes that he could only dart in every direction as he tried not to look at the man's jugular vein that seemed to call to him, tried not to inhale whatever that metallic, yet sweet scent was that still surged in that vein.

"Drink. Or else you'll die." 

The woman pressed his neck to Jon's mouth, and he felt his gums sting with new teeth that achingly and slowly sprouted from them, teeth that he felt pinch his bottom lip before he reluctantly opened it. His strength gingerly returned only to carefully crane his neck for a better angle to taste the man, taste his blood, the peculiar and horrifying pleasure flowing into his mouth as his tears flowed down his cheeks, forcing a grunt from him as he let the blood slide down his throat.

"That's it, baby. Drink. He's all for you," the nameless creature cooed as Jon's eyes burned with bloody tears, his throat burned from the hot blood, and yet he could not stop. A silent prayer flickered through his mind for the man as he did not deserve this, he did not deserve his life and blood stolen, and yet Jon could still not stop, grunting and gulping and making himself full and sick even after he was certain there was not a drop left in him.  

"I'mma get rid of him, feed, and come right back." She stood and hoisted his wilted corpse onto her shoulder and reached down to caress her fingers along Jon's bottom lip which was wet with blood before she said softly, "When I get back, I promise I'll tell you everything. Just know that I'll never abandon you and you can never abandon me...we belong together now, baby."

Her name wasn't Imani. The creature. It was Nika. The monster. She was his maker and he was her hostage. Three days and three nights passed since she made him over like her. A creature, a monster. He had regained most of his strength back by the third night and was able to flit around her apartment, his prison, his hell, like a moth trying to find the light—yet he was unable to leave when there was light outside, her heavy curtains drawn shut during the day that when he tried to open them, his skin sizzled like someone threw fire at him.

And he was unable to leave at night, Nika still much stronger than him, even as a newborn herself but with more time to grow into her new, cold body that possessed powers Jon felt trying to unfurl in his yet he fought it, fought his being, his lust for blood, only fighting to fucking get away from her back to his family.

His girlfriend left to fend for herself and their 3-year-old son, Jon Jr., left to worry about why Daddy never came home, left to wonder why he didn't care enough to call...never to know it was because he cared too much about getting his dick wet.

"You'll never see them again. You can't. You'll kill them on accident. Bet," Nika uttered when she blocked him from her front door. Then she approached him with her hands on his face, hands he shoved away with all his might that might as well have been to the wall the way she stayed planted to the carpet. She reached for him again, her nails digging into the skin of his cheeks as she whispered on his lips, "Forget 'bout them, baby. You mine now, Jon. I was so lonely but then God gave me you...and you got me. We'll never be lonely again."

Jon wasn't having it and wasn't going out with a fight, all the fight he willed in his muscles he used to break free of her grasp once more, ripping her door off its hinge before he flew into the black. The stars and moon twinkled above with no pity on him to hide his frantic bursts of speed he could barely control as he ran, only illuminating him as he prayed no one saw him, and that he didn't accidentally hurt anyone who got in his way, the aromas of their blood wafting from miles and feet away that tempted him to run to it instead of home to see his family.

"Jon!"

Nika wasn't far behind him, closing in, her bare footsteps, from being in too much of a hurry to follow him that she neglected shoes, barely touching the asphalt of the empty street, she was so fast. Faster than him. Surpassing him. Jon cried out as he led her right to his home and watched her sniff the humid air before she lept into it, his eyes bulging in awe and terror to witness her land on her feet on the third-floor windowsill that belonged to him and his family's apartment.

He had only a tremor of a heartbeat, an odd feeling when his soul, or what was left of it, shook with such fright as he dashed inside, not needing to smell the air to find his floor or differentiate Imani and Jon's blood as he recognized it as if he'd always known it, even smelling traces of his own blood in his son. Yet when traces of their blood littered the air, their blood-curdling screams hanging in it, as well, Jon kicked down his door to see perfectly in the near pitch-black living room Imani and her lifeless, brown eyes watching heaven as she lay broken on the tile floor, red pouring from her chest and glistening on the matte finish.

Nika crouched by her body among shards of glass and red, her hands smeared with it and her face with red tears as she shouted at Jon who stood with dread so heavy it nailed him in place, that same dread shouting at him, too, that he was too late, that his son had suffered the same as his mother.

"Jon! Look what you fuckin' made me do!"

"I told you couldn't see them again. I fuckin' told you!"

He was too shaken to speak, too heavy to move, too livid, too destroyed, too weary, too harrowed to do anything but listen to the silence that Nika filled with her laments for him and, somewhere in the distance, though he heard it like it was already here, police sirens.

"Jon, please! Come with me, please!"

Jon blinked and in that same blink, he saw himself cracking a leg off of the wooden coffee table behind Nika, watching it falter on its side before he cracked her spine with the shrapnel, watching her falter on top of Imani's body as her blood erupted from her along with her surprised gasp and shriek before he wedged it deeper and through her chest. He had no reason to believe it would work, no reason to believe vampire lore created by humans was nothing more than lore.

But Jon had one reason to yank the makeshift stake out of her back to flip her over to the tile and stab her again and again and again, her blood painting his face and her body ceasing to move from his first strike.

And as the police sirens and their tires screeched to a halt in front of his building where he heard the cacophony of screams, murmurs, and whispers, he fled the remnants of his home and his family, never to see again, with his one reason that he would never forget: He had no one. Nothing. And it was all his fault.

Present day...

The glass of Coke should have dripped with condensation as the ice had tried to melt in the warm room, yet Jon's cool hand around it kept his drink perfectly chilled before he brought it to his full lips for a tiny sip. He wasn't a fan of soda but water tasted worse. Coffee was better. And even though he was tucked away in a booth at a bar, he didn't care for the taste of alcohol, either.

He hadn't drunk in almost a decade, not since that night that ruined every night that followed it—every night that he spent alone with only the memories of Imani and their son, their faces, their smiles, their laughs, their screams, their cries, their last breaths.

The R&B music in the bar was quite loud but it couldn't drown out his thoughts that were always louder, always reminding him why he owed a great debt to humankind, the kind he had forsaken with his family as his original iniquity. A debt he paid with his duty as a seasoned vampire bounty hunter, the seasons growing warmer, then colder, all while he never grew older, but his bounty grew larger.

It was why he stayed stationed in University Park, a small, suburban neighborhood where he and his mates had slain the vampire that roamed it. He could sense the presence of a few others in the area, but they were well-hidden and well-behaved, causing his team to hit the road for the next hit...yet Jon had circled back as he still felt unsettled. 

That debt he believed he owed personally to Nyma, especially after he shattered her world with the news that her friend, and likely lover, Stephon murdered her husband and left town without a word of it to her. The lie he created to deliver that news was one Jon regretted instantly, but he could not tell her the truth. Humans were not allowed to know of his and Stephon's kind. And their kind certainly weren't allowed to harm said humans.

Yet Jon knew he had harmed that human woman with his duties and his words, something that tried to shatter his heart. He sipped his Coke again and licked his lips, tucking his hands in his armpits before he rested his elbows on the glossy, wooden table and shook a bit, his denim jacket providing no warmth as his body underneath it was too cold. He didn't shake for any reason other than studying Nyma as she rose from her stool at the bar to walk in his direction. He didn't want her to see him, didn't want to have to lie to her again, but he felt the need to be here, to observe her.

His mates had already cursed him out from A to Z for bothering with "the mortal," blowing his cell phone up the last week he'd been in Texas, but he was thankful that even in their annoyance with him, they were just as loyal to him and didn't rat him out to the Leige, their bosses and central government of all vampires. Jon knew they could handle a few missions without him while he completed his own: Keep Nyma out of further harm's way.

Maybe it was because of her brown skin that shone similar to Imani's, even her afro coils the same density as they fell around her slender face. Maybe it was because of her soft voice that had a Southern twang to it that wasn't from this area, intriguing him and also worrying him as it slurred with her fifth shot of Hennessy. Or maybe it was because of her trying to order a sixth shot, one that the bartender poured for her when they should have cut her off, especially since Nyma seemed to be trying to drink herself to death as she came to this bar every night he'd been here to watch over her.

Jon watched her now as she struggled on her feet to the restrooms near him, but she did not see him, the shadows of the corner he sat in giving him a full view of the bar but very little of him. Not that she would have noticed him, anyway, the way she ran into the restroom door before struggling to open it, discovering it was locked, and wobbling her way back to her seat to down that shot that waited for her on the counter.

He sighed and shook his head, hating to see her like this, hating that this divine chaos was his fault. He didn't know this human, but he would get to know what it took to protect her from herself, from more of that divine and chaotic mess she was oblivious to. Then he would leave her the right way, not broken like the other day, but healed.

It was the very least Jon could do after devastating his home all those years ago and now hers, too.

With another displeasing sip of his soda, Jon glanced at Nyma from across the room before whipping out his phone from his jeans pocket to scroll through and look busy. He didn't have any active social media anymore or any contacts in his phone he could call besides the work-related ones as he lived to work and worked to live. However, he would be a liar if he said he didn't miss it, miss the simple life of texting his homeboys, posting pics on Facebook, and tagging his family in cute memes he shared on his Wall. The life he had before. 

Jon simply thumbed through a Google newsfeed page, his eyes glossing over it all as he refused to scroll through his old apps that captured all the moments of his life before, apps he only kept as mementos as it was too painful to look at.

Instead, his eyes flashed to Nyma to look at her again as she hobbled down from her barstool a second time. He figured she was getting up to try the restroom one more time, yet when her deep brown eyes locked on his with curiosity, Jon slightly shook with that invisible chill to be caught.

He didn't know how he would explain to her that he, a friend of her friend that she had never met before earlier last week, was suddenly in a bar minutes from her home and staring at her off and on.

But as she made her way to him, their gazes still curiously stuck on each other, Jon discreetly sucked his teeth as he quickly thought of another, and unfortunate, lie to slither through them. 

A lie to help her sleep at night. A lie to protect her. A lie to hopefully keep her alive.

.

.

.

Thanks for reading! 🖤

a/n: I promise you the next chapter is going to be a lot softer and sweeter cuz WHEW I know this one was a doozy. I appreciate you making it to the end! 🫶🏾

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[h0ney-fiction]

Nashville

masterlist

Synopsis: Adam Page and Swerve Strickland go to a bar in Nashville...

Word Count: 2,359.

A/N: do we like this 1st POV or back to 3rd?

Ratings/Warnings: M. Alcohol Use. Explicit Sexual Themes.

It was a hot night in Nashville as I sat at a bar and grill waiting for my best friend, Liz, to meet me for dinner. It was our ritual to meet after work to commiserate another grueling week. 

As I waited for Liz, my eyes passively scanned the bar filling up around me. Most people were pooling in to pregame for a night out. It was summer so there were quite a few people in shorts and t-shirts. This was my favorite season to people-watch. You could tell if someone was a tourist by their clothes or lack of them. My eyes wander out to a pair of men at the end of the bar. One donning a dark purple shirt, dark jeans, and cowboy boots. His light brown hair looked almost gold in the lights of the bar. The other was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans. His hair was loc'd and when he smiled, I couldn't help but notice a grill in his mouth. Both of them were very handsome.

The man in the purple shirt laughed at something his friend said. He threw his head back. My eyes traveled down his body. He was fit, I could tell. His biceps flexed as he raised a drink to his lips. My eyes couldn't help but trail over to his friend and notice how muscular his physique was as well.

The vibration of my phone brought my attention back. I was texting my friend.

'I'm so sorry but I got stuck with another shift!'

'It's okay.' I replied.

'Can you take a raincheck?'

'Yeah. Sure.' I replied.

I wasn't upset that Liz bailed; as we do this every week. I began to put my phone in my purse and get ready to walk away when the man in the black shirt took the empty seat next to me.

"What's a beautiful woman like yourself doing all alone?" The man said, his voice deep and rich.

"I was waiting for my friend," I replied.

"I'm Stephon, but my friends call me Swerve." He said, extending his hand.

"I'm Ciera."

"Ciera, huh? That's a pretty name. It's nice to meet you, Ciera."

I took his hand and shook it. I tried to ignore how soft his skin was.

"Well, my friend can't make it. So, I guess I'll be heading home."

"That's a shame, my friend and I were wondering if you wanted to join us for a drink."

He nodded towards his friend in the purple shirt who had been watching us the whole time. He smiled from across the bar and raised his beer.

"Oh, well. I don't want to interrupt." I replied.

"You won't be. We've been waiting for someone just like you to join us."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Well, a beautiful woman like yourself deserves some attention."

I smiled, "So, you've already told me."

He chuckled, "My friend and I are from out of town."

"That explains the purple shirt. Are you here for business or pleasure?"

"Business. We just finished a show."

"What kind of show?"

"We're professional wrestlers."

"You don't say," I said, trying not to sound surprised.

"Don't believe me, huh?" He said, his hand going to his chest, feigning pain.

"No. I didn't say that."

"Your face says it all."

I blushed, "I'm sorry."

He waved me off, "It's cool. It sounds crazy, but it's the truth."

Swerve then proceeded to take out his phone and show a clip of him and his friend's match. 

"Woah."

"Now you see, I wasn't lying." He said with a wink.

"Yeah, you're right. Sorry about that."

"You can make it up by having a drink with us."

The man grinned mischievously. I knew I shouldn't have, but I couldn't resist.

"I guess, but just one drink."

"Great!" He said, waving for his friend to come over. 

His friend smiled from across the bar and took the seat on the other side of me.

"Ciera, this is my friend, Adam."

"Nice to meet you," I said, smiling and shaking his hand.

"It's nice to meet you, too." He replied.

"Well, what are you drinking, sweetheart?"

***

Three drinks later, we learned everything about each other. I learned how Swerve grew up an army brat and how Adam was a high school teacher in a past life. My life seemed pale in comparison as I told them I grew up in the middle of nowhere Florida before moving to Nashville as an assistant for a music executive. They were the total package. Adam was smart, funny, and easy to talk to while Swerve was the life of the party and knew exactly how to keep a girl smiling.

I could barely contain my laughter as they were regaling me with stories of their exploits.

"It was crazy. The entire crowd was throwing bottles at us." Swerve explained.

"Oh my god. How do you guys do it?"

"We love it," Adam responded. Swerve agreed.

"I think we've found our new best friend," Swerve said, raising his glass.

"Best friend?"

"Of course. We can't let you get away that easily."

"We have to leave for another show tomorrow, but we'd love to see you again," Adam added.

"We've had such a great time, Ciera," Swerve said.

"Me too. I've enjoyed getting to know you both."

"We could get to know each other better. Our hotel isn't too far from here." Swerve said, his hand brushing against my thigh.

Goosebumps rose across my skin at the feel of his fingers. The touch was light, barely there.

"I don't know about that."

"Come on. Let us take care of you. Show you a real good time." Adam said, the southern twang in his voice thick from the alcohol.

My eyes went to his. They were filled with heat and desire.

"I've never done something like this before."

"That's even better."

Swerve's fingers continued to brush against my skin. He inched closer and closer until his entire palm rested on my thigh. Adam leaned against me from my other side, his breath against my neck giving me chills down my spine.

"Let's go." Swerve whispered.

"I'm not that easy." I breathed out, the scent of alcohol strong on my breath.

"No. Of course not." Adam said.

"No expectations, just a nightcap." Swerve added.

I glanced between the pair. When was a situation like this ever going to happen to me again?

"Okay. Just a nightcap."

"Atta girl." They said in unison.

Adam stood first, helping me out of the barstool. I stood between the two. Both of them towered over me. Swerve placed his hand on the small of my back. His large, strong hands rubbed my skin.

We walked outside. The heat of the air surrounded me. I looked up to see the stars above. Adam ordered an Uber and less than 15 minutes later we were in his hotel suite. He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of expensive whiskey. 

"I'm not an alcoholic, I promise. I'm just very picky about my whiskey." Adam said.

Swerve seated me on the couch, his eyes watching me intently.

"Do you have a mixer?" I scrunched my nose.

"You can't drink whiskey straight?" Adam teased.

"I don't know."

"Just give it a try." Swerve encouraged.

"Fine."

Adam handed me the drink and I took a sip. The brown liquor was smooth as it went down my throat.

"See? Not that bad, is it?"

"Not at all."

Adam took the seat to my right as Swerve took the seat to my left, sandwiching me. Adam poured himself and Swerve a drink. We talked about country music as we sipped. Swerve's hand was back on my thigh, rubbing my exposed skin, brushing against the hem of my shorts.

Adam's hand trailed down my arm. The goosebumps came back. I took another sip of the whiskey and set it down.

"You have beautiful skin," Adam complimented as he tucked my hair behind my ear. It was such a contrast from his tanned hands.

Swerve leaned over and whispered, "And you have beautiful lips."

"Thank you," I whispered as the pair's hands roamed my body.

Swerve's fingers played at the waistband of my shorts. He tugged them down slightly. Adam got up to dim the lights before coming back to kiss the side of my neck. I gasped at the feeling of his beard and the heat from his mouth.

"Relax, let us take care of you." Swerve whispered into my ear.

I tried to, but I was in disbelief at the situation. This is not what I expected when I woke up this morning.

"You're so tense, darlin'," Adam added.

"I can't help it. I can't believe this is happening."

Swerve chuckled, "Well, we can stop if you want."

I glanced down and noticed the bulge forming in his jeans. I turned my head to Adam whose erection was also peeking from his jeans.

I could feel myself growing wet at the sight. 

I decided I wasn't going to block myself from this experience.

"No."

"No?"

"No, I don't want to stop."

Swerve grinned, "That's what we like to hear."

They wasted no time getting me out of my clothes. Adam kissed my neck and fondled my breast as Swerve took his shirt off, revealing his sculpted abs. He placed my legs on the couch before spreading them. He rubbed and kissed my thighs. His lips felt soft against my skin. I moaned as I closed my eyes, feeling Adam's lips on me. Swerve spread my pussy and began to lick and suck. I grabbed the back of his head and grabbed onto his locs.

"Mmm, you taste delicious," Swerve said.

"I've thought about this since we saw you at the bar," Adam said.

Swerve licked my clit slowly, taking his time. I arched my back off the couch as the sensations began to build. Adam kissed the back of my neck, jaw, and then lips as he pinched and played with my nipples. Swerve continued his tongue work around my sensitive pussy, lapping me up.

I moaned against Adam's mouth. My fingers tangled in his hair. His kisses were soft and sensual. I felt like I was going to melt.

"Fuck," I breathed as Swerve sucked on my clit.

"Does it feel good?" Adam asked.

"Yes." I hissed.

Swerve licked and sucked harder. The tension built inside me. I felt my pussy get wetter.

Before I got to the edge, Swerve pulled away from me. The nectar from my honey was on his beard. Adam's hands went down my body and rubbed my clit in replacement to Swerve's tongue. He inserted a finger into my tight hole and thrust slowly.

"Fuck." I moaned, throwing my head back.

Swerve undressed and began to stroke his dick. His cock was long and girthy with a slight curve.

"Do you think she's ready?" Swerve inquired, grabbing a pack of condoms from Adam's suitcase.

"I'd say she is."

Swerve and Adam smirked. Adam removed his hand and carried me to the bed. He laid me down as Swerve came to his side. Adam spread my legs and gave me a taste, holding onto my hips. 

Swerve stroked his dick and licked his lips watching me moan at Adam's touch. He rolled on a condom before trading places with Adam, entering inside me. I let out a deep moan as he stretched me out, the pain quickly turning into a deep pleasure. He rocked into me slowly.

Adam watched his friend fuck me, taking his clothes off. Adam crawled onto the bed as Swerve turned me over and positioned me into doggy style. Adam took the opportunity to get on his knees and put his cock in my mouth.

"Damn, baby." He moaned as I bobbed and gagged. He was just as big and girthy as Swerve.

I looked up and saw Adam's abs and v-line. His chest and shoulders were toned and muscular. Swerve continued to pound into me. His large hands grabbed my ass.

After a while, the men changed positions. Now Adam was fucking me as Swerve took the opportunity to kiss and play with me. 

I moaned loudly, my nails digging into the sheets as Adam thrust faster.

"Fuck. You're so wet." Adam said, his southern twang even more pronounced as he fucked me.

He slapped my ass, causing me to moan loudly in response. Swerve watched as his friend fucked me. He played with his dick, stroking and rubbing the precum.

"Come here, baby." He said.

He guided my head to his cock and inserted himself in my mouth. I could taste his precum as he fucked my mouth. He growled, pushing himself into the back of my throat.

I gagged as he pulled out, a string of spit following him. They took turns fucking my holes, switching places.

Adam bent me over, pushing my face into the mattress. He lifted my hips, pounding into my pussy. Swerve came behind him and inserted himself in my ass.

"Fuck!" I yelped, my body conforming to him.

"Oh, yeah, baby. Fuck, you're so tight." Swerve growled.

Adam held me up as the men fucked me. Their grunts and growls filled the air.

"Shit. Fuck, baby. You feel so good." Adam grunted.

My lower stomach grew warm and tight as my orgasm gushed out from me. 

"Fuckkk," I heard Swerve hiss as his orgasm took over. Adam lost it instantly afterward.

"Shit."

Adam lay on the bed next to me. His chest heaved and glistened with sweat. Swerve pulled out of me and took the condom off, throwing it in the trash. I was in between us, the three of us panting. Swerve rolled over to face me then grabbed my face and kissed me, his tongue exploring my mouth. Adam caressed my back, kissing my neck as Swerve kissed me. When Swerve pulled away, Adam rolled me around and kissed me tenderly.

"What do you say, do you think we'll be seeing you again?" Swerve asked.

"Definitely," I said, catching my breath.

"Good."

They took turns kissing and caressing me until we fell asleep.

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