Chapter Text
Whoever had said that vampires were pretty by nature had never seen Barmond. He might have some decent attributes to him – his long, elegant hands, his blue eyes, and his slim figure, for example - but that didn’t save him.
First off, he looked old, older than what a vampire should. When the vast majority of his kind had been plucked at the graceful ages of sixteen to twenty-five, he had been reaped by his sire at thirty-eight. It showed from the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes to the greying of his otherwise red hair. He wouldn’t grow any older now that he was undead, but he wouldn’t get any younger either.
Second, he was a runt. It didn’t show at first glance, but those sorts of things were easily guessed. He wasn’t as fast and strong as the other vampires and lacked their grace. It was their inhumanity that made vampires so alluring; Barmond just looked like a human that could run really fast.
And third, Barmond had a massive brooding problem. That one he didn’t actually mind because he had a lot to brood about.
Especially after this bust. He’d be caught dead before showing compassion for the enemy, but he felt a little bad for the harpy imps that had been unable to get away. There had been pregnant females and young among them. Even if they were pests that infringed on Ranphoros’ territory, Barmond felt as if they should have been given a better end than being slaughtered under nets.
It was no different than going through a nest of rats, he told himself. If given a single chance, they would have pounced on him and gorged his eyes out with their little clawed hands. Barmond might be a vampire but that hurt and was a pain in the ass to heal.
Speaking of wounds inflicted by the imps, he sent a glance to the improvised infirmary in a corner of the abandoned barn the imps had infested. Some of their fighters had been standing on the roof, trying to throw nets over the holes there to keep as many as possible inside. One of those had been Hugo and, from what Barmond could tell, he had been targeted by a group of at least ten because he had been the leader of the operation (and it had shown.) The result? Well, Barmond was a vampire, he could smell blood, and he had smelled quite a lot of it when he had passed the man on his way down.
Not that he was intact himself, he had collected quite a few scratches but, thanks to the blood he had collected the night before, they had healed quickly. The only downside was that he was getting hungry now and he still needed to collect all of the nets.
His frown deepened as he wondered why he was stuck here when Ranphoros wasn’t even his real master. It was true that the elders of his clan had told him to listen to everything he said (and report to them everything he did) but sending him out to fight was stepping beyond that. Leave it to an incubus lord to be unaware of the most basic decency. He liked walking around naked too. Easier to feed he said. But he never fed! He always looked at other people having sex and slurped their energy from the air around them. Creepy.
And his second in command was no better. Barmond would have thought that werewolves, being as they were related to vampires (albeit through very old connections), would have some dignity. He had been very wrong. Oh, he was handsome all right, too handsome for his own good, and with a smile that might or might not make Barmond’s toes curl in his shoes, but at the same time... he was gross. So loud and boisterous when he drank, and wider than life, with arms that seemed able to hold an entire room when he spread them. He brought joy to his friends, fear to his enemies and it wasn’t fair.
His only consolation was that he could get away with calling Hugo a wet dog. He had no idea how he was allowed to get away with insulting someone that was technically his superior but he supposed that it was because he wasn’t part of Ranphoros’ nest.
Yes, a group of incubus and succubus made a nest. It was also quite common for all sort of other creatures to join them in it, for obvious reasons linked to the way they fed.
Barmond missed his vampire clan dearly. They might have looked down on him for being an old-looking runt, but at least they had some manners and some decency. It just so happened that he was the first one they sent out whenever dirty work needed to be done; Ranphoros had finally agreed on letting one single vampire come into the city of Badiene, on the condition that said vampire was either a runt or a youngling.
Asking any sire to let their youngling out of sight was a ridiculous idea, so they had sent their runt, of course. Barmond had been insulted because he knew that the only reason the deal worked was because he was automatically considered weak. He wasn’t weak! Maybe physically he was, but that didn’t stop him from being dangerous when wielding his mind. Not to mention that his runt-ness allowed him to stay awake during the day and even walk in the sun (even if that wasn’t for long). Not everyone knew that, and those that did often underestimated what sort of advantage that gave Barmond.
Ah, blast it. No one understood either him or his true potential and it was going to remain so until he was old. In the meantime, he’ll just gather the last of his nets and look bitter about it. Cherry on the cake, they smelled like blood and he was getting terribly hungry.
He was wondering how much blood he would collect from sucking on them when no one was looking (he would rather die than ask anyone for a sip) when a werewolf that was directly under Hugo’s command walked up to him. Barmond narrowed his eyes at her, waiting for her to talk. He’d be damned if he ever was the first one to speak to someone sent by him.
“Bar’, Hugo wants you to come,” she said.
“Hm,” answered Barmond. He hated when people that had not been allowed to shorten his name did it anyway. “What does he want?”
“He said he just wanted you to come. He needs something from you.”
“Well I’m busy. He can come here and ask it himself, and then maybe I’ll consider it. In the meantime, have a good night.” He turned around and back to his nets. They were his only when someone had to clean them up, apparently, otherwise they belonged to literally everyone in Ranphoros’ nest.
“He said that if you didn’t want to come for a petty reason that I had the right to drag you over by the collar.”
Barmond looked over his shoulder at her grin. She would do that and she would enjoy it. Werewolves and vampires weren’t usually enemies, it was just that Barmond had a personal distaste for them and they sensed that. They stunk and were rude. And they loved roughing him up, for some reason. Especially Hugo. He had even slapped him, once, on the ass.
“Fine, but he better have a good reason,” said Barmond. He dropped his nets in a heap on the ground. “And I’ll have to be quick, I don’t have all day to entertain him.”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” she answered. She was still grinning. Whatever Hugo was scheming, it was suspicious.
Barmond followed her over to the other side of the barn, but he made a point to grumble the whole way. The infirmary had been established in whatever was left of the imp’s sleeping quarters, made of curtains and tarps that were hooked to beams to create tent-like spaces. A lot of people there had to be healed with magic, as it seemed that the imps had been making some sort of poison that stopped wounds from closing and healing on their own. In fact, this poison had been the very root of Ranphoros’ problems with those pests, because they had been over-using it in raids for food on the farms around the city. Farmers didn’t have access to healers and were isolated. Quite a few had died as a result and they had needed to act fast.
Luckily, they had a handful of people with them that knew how to deal with such wounds, even if they were overloaded with work. Some of them were visibly tired succubus. Barmond shot them an interested look. He wouldn’t say no to helping them recuperate some energy. The abundance of succubus was the only thing that he approved of in Ranphoros’ nest. Not that he got was considered suitable for their feeding pool. Most of them had never even seen a vampire in their life and were a little scared of him, but a man could dream...
Alas, he wasn’t being brought to them. He was led across the area to a corner that was set up against the walls. A curtain – an old blanket – had been nailed some privacy to whoever was under it. His guide had to duck before speaking.
“He’s here,” she said.
“Ah,” answered a deep baritone voice. Hugo. “You see? He came. You may leave now, Jess’, I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t think so, but fine,” muttered Jessica. She came out from under the hiding place with her skirts bunched up in one hand so she wouldn’t step on them.
Ah... Jessica. The loveliest of all the succubus, so beautiful, sweet, and soft-looking. She wasn’t the prettiest but she had charm, a charm that made Barmond so weak for her, and she knew it. Well, almost everyone knew it. The way she could make him mellow out and do her bidding as she pleased was very obvious to anyone with eyes enough to see.
She gave him a tight smile as she passed him. “Please help. We’re all very busy and you would make a tremendous difference.”
“I will,” stupidly answered Barmond. He was already aware that he was going to regret this but then she truly smiled and his worries all faded away.
“Thanks. I owe you one.”
She left, only leaving her heavenly scent behind her. She owed him one. This was the best day of Barmond’s life. He would have jumped off a cliff if that meant he would get to touch her boob.
“Barmond, come here,” called Hugo.
That made him snap back to reality really fast as he looked towards the hiding place with dread. There it was: the guilt of having been had by a pair of shapely tits. It wouldn’t be the first time.
He ducked under the curtain. The space underneath was imp-sized. One human-sized person might walk in it, but they had to duck to do so, making sitting the best was to hang out. And Hugo was sitting indeed, sitting on a log with no shirt on and a huge grin on his face.
He looked worse up close than he had from far. Some scars, the deeper ones, seemed to have been treated already but he was covered in small, shallow scratches that kept bleeding. Other than that, he looked fine, fine enough to be annoying (as he always was.) The scent of the blood that hung heavily in the air reminded Barmond that he was hungry and he felt his fangs itching to pop out of their sockets for feeding.
Hugo, contrary to Barmond, was hugely popular in the nest. But the succubus club (yes, there was one of those) elected him as the most handsome man a lot during their yearly poll. If anything, Barmond would have elected Ranphoros for his suaver side (despite his nasty habit of going around naked) but he certainly saw what they saw in the werewolf leader, and sometimes he even let himself fantasize about how things could be different between them. Not that there was any reality to any of that.
Because, in reality, Barmond disliked Hugo, he thought he was very annoying, and the most annoying part about Hugo was that no matter what Barmond did he was never annoyed back. No, the man thought he was so superior to the vampire that he dared being amused by him, even when he was straight up hissed at. Barmond was scary sometimes, damn it! He fed on blood from his victims, lurked in the night and hypnotized people! Just because Hugo happened to be, as a werewolf, bigger, stronger, faster and more powerful didn’t mean that he could just dismiss him!
“You look like you mistook a lemon for a neck, Bar’,” told him Hugo. He had been the one starting with this annoying nickname. Barmond tolerated it because when he started to protest, it was switched off for something worse. Like little lovebite. Gross.
“What do you want?”
“As touchy as usual, I see. The others already took good care of me before I bleed off but they got other people to care for. I was wondering if you could use that tongue of yours to help with all the little scratches I got here and there.” He gestured to his arms. His very strong arms. With every single muscle scratched up.
“I’m not licking you if that is what you are asking for.” Barmond was furious.
Leave it to this stupid dog to think that getting healed by a vampire’s saliva was a good idea. Well, in theory, it was, vampire saliva happened to be pretty good at helping with bleeding wounds, but it came with a vampire and vampires’ fangs hovering over an open wound. Everyone would see how this could be scary except Hugo. Not that Barmond would be the type to lose control, but others might.
“The only other option we have is that we call back in Jessica.” Hugo’s grin only grew wider as he said that. “And she’s already tired. Would you ask this of her, Bar’?”
Barmond opened his mouth then closed it again. This monkey with four paws had a point. Besides, Barmond had just told her that he would do it (without knowing what it was) just a moment ago. He was stuck.
“Good,” continued Hugo. “The faster you will get started, the fastest you’ll get it done.”
“Oh wow, isn’t that great,” muttered Barmond as he kneeled near him. “So glad you got that cleared out for me, really, I would have never guessed. Give me your arm.”
“Sometimes, I wonder if you ever enjoy yourself.”
“I enjoy myself plenty, licking your hairy skin.” Barmond examined Hugo’s arm. It was full of scratches and nicks. He pretended to survey them when, in reality, he was trying his damnest not to focus on the man’s pulse. He could feel it under his fingers and even hear it. This was going to be hard. “I can’t believe how much fun I am going to have. We should do this every single day.”
“I wouldn’t mind that, actually,” replied Hugo in a tone that said it all.
“Does that mean that you are willing to jump into a harpy imp nest every day? Because I hope you will. Heck, I hope that when you do you never come back.”
“Ouch. You wound me.”
“Good. Now be quiet.”
Barmond leaned in and gave a tentative lick on Hugo’s wrist while trying to forget who it belonged too. His tongue caught the pace of a pulse and the taste of blood and his fangs came out. He paused as he registered what happened. Ah, shit. So soon too.
“Do I taste good?” asked Hugo smugly.
“Like a dog that’s been dead for a week,” muttered Barmond.
He made sure to keep his head down and his mouth out of sight. If Hugo saw it when he spoke, he would know the state of Barmond’s fangs... and if it was one thing Barmond didn’t want Hugo to see, or anyone else for that matter, was his erect fangs. Those sorts of things were private.
“Ah, that’s strange,” said Hugo. He didn’t suspect a thing. “Last time a vampire tasted it, he declared it delicious.”
“T’was flattery.”
“T’was your sire.”
Barmond shot him a glare. Hugo was quite smug about having brought out a reaction in the vampire.
“Jealous?” He asked.
It would be best to ignore him, Barmond decided. He turned back to his task, licking each scratch meticulously while telling himself that no, he was certainly not enjoying the taste. He could feel that idiot looking at him as he worked.
“Other arm,” he muttered with his head turned away when he reached the shoulder.
Hugo complied without a word. Already the wounds that had been treated were closing; vampire saliva was made to close the punctures from fangs quickly, that their victim might never suspect that they had been hypnotized and drained when they came to their senses.
Hugo was a powerful werewolf: that was partly why he had been chosen to be Ranphoros’ second in command. Barmond could taste it in his blood. While he didn’t manage to collect more than a drop of it with each lick, it buzzed on his tongue and made him feel light-headed, as if he was getting slightly drunk from it. It wasn’t enough to help with his hunger, in fact, it only seemed to make is sharper. The roof of his mouth ached with the need to feel that pulse... so close and yet so far.
And, well, he wasn’t going to lie, but Hugo’s arms were quite a feast for the eyes. Even if Barmond tended to be more attracted to sweet, feminine men (when he was attracted to them at all), he found that following the curve of a muscle with his tongue was quite nice. Not that he would admit it to anyone.
Thank the Goddess for small miracles that Hugo had managed to keep his chest free of scratches (licking it would have been too awkward for Barmond) but his back had not been spared. The vampire got to work, having caught a pace that he deemed efficient enough. His mouth, after a while, became dry, so he took the liberty to steal some water from a bowl nearby. One sniff told him that it was drinkable.
With how repetitive the work was (once he had gotten used to the feel of Hugo against him) he was not realizing that he was falling into a light, hunger-induced trance. He couldn’t think of anything but a big gulp of blood. He wouldn’t need much, he was not a big eater, but he needed it soon (or so he felt.) Hugo’s pulse was slow and strong against his lip, his skin was hot and alive and so, so breakable. Barmond’s fangs literally ached.
So was it a surprise that, once he had gotten the last wound on his shoulders done, Barmond remained a few moments more, just to smell? He was weary and hungry, and Hugo’s body was so nice and healthy. He tasted so nice too...
Barmond didn’t realize that he had opened his mouth to bite until Hugo caught him by the cheek with a thumb in his mouth. The vampire jerked back to reality, hissed loudly as he fell to the side and was immobilized in a headlock by Hugo.
“Did you just try to bite me?” asked the latter, amused.
Barmond hissed back at him. Why was he grinning now? He had almost gotten attacked by a vampire, he shouldn’t be happy like that! Barmond hated that goofy smile so much. If he would have had the strength, he would have punched a few of his teeth out a long time ago.
Hugo’s eyes flicked to Barmond’s mouth and his eyes widened. “Oh... your fangs.”
Oh no.
Barmond snapped his lips shut and pressed them tightly together but Hugo, with his strength, parted them easily. If there would have been any blood left in his body Barmond would have gone red in the face while he was examined. This was so rude!
“These must be the cutest fangs I have ever seen on a vampire,” said Hugo.
“Shut up! They aren’t cute.” Barmond hissed for good measure, hissed as strong as he could. “We’ll see how cute they are when I tear out your throat with them!”
“That’s why you were so silent all of a sudden,” continued Hugo. “You didn’t want to speak because you didn’t want me to see how small they were.”
“They are of a perfectly reasonable size!”
“And you are self-conscious about them too. You vampires and your fangs...” Hugo laughed. “Most vampires can’t even close their mouth when their fangs are out, yet they are all worried about how big they are.”
“Size doesn’t matter, it’s what you do with it, and if you keep this up you’re going to lose a finger.”
“Are you threatening me, now, Barmond?” Hugo’s voice was dangerously low as he leaned in. “I can bite too, you know.”
There was no point arguing with this numb-skull dog, so Barmond decided that he was just going to remain quiet and glare at him. This decision certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Hugo in his werewolf form was terrifying.
“I want to touch them,” suddenly said Hugo.
“What?”
“You almost bit me, you were going to let me feel them anyway. Open up.”
“No!”
Hugo approached a finger and Barmond tried to bite it. That was the last thing he knew before he was tossed around like a straw in a storm. When he regained his awareness of his surroundings, he was on the floor with Hugo straddling his chest with a large stick in his hands.
“You know what’s the cutest thing about you, Barmond?”
“Let me go, rabies-giver,” spat the vampire. “I just healed you and that’s how you thank me?”
“It’s that you are so smart, yet you will blindly fight until the bitter end against forces that surpass you. You’re so feisty it’s downright adorable.”
“I’m not feisty, I’m ferocious!”
“Hm. Keep telling yourself that.”
Barmond opened his mouth to reply, but the stick was jammed in his maw and kept it open. It tasted of soil and wood but he couldn’t close or turn away; he was stuck. All he could do was rake his blunt nails against Hugo’s newly healed arms in protest. If he had not been a runt, he would have been able to turn them into claws, but he couldn’t. Hugo just ignored his weak struggling.
The werewolf put a finger in Barmond’s mouth and poked at the sharp tip. A shudder overtook his body as his oversensitive fang was touched. In any other situation but this one, it would have felt good. Well, maybe it also did in this one, it was just a shame that stupid Hugo had to be the one doing it.
“I think you like that,” said Hugo. He pressed down a little harder and Barmond jolted as a spark of pleasure made stars dance in front of his eyes. “Oh yeah, you definitely reacted to that.”
“Uk’ O’,” tried to say Barmond.
Hugo chuckled and his fingers moved into Barmond’s mouth, seeking the soft, fleshy base of the fang, and pressed it gently.
Please erupted in Barmond’s palate and shot down his spine to his entire body. A touch there was like a spark between two flintstone. This was the bit that made feeding feel so damn good, the one that made kissing for vampires quite a big deal. Hugo was touching there with his big, rough hands, Hugo was holding him down and dominating him, and if Barmond was frank about his feelings (which he rarely was) he would admit that he was starting to get excited.
He reached up to pull him away but his tentative was cut short by Barmond massaging his sweet spot. He did grab his arm, but he didn’t pull it away. It looked a lot, in fact, like he was holding on to something for stability. He even produced a small pleased sound.
“They are quite sensitive, aren’t they?” Hugo grinned and leaned in closer. “And you are not entirely opposed to the idea of me touching them, are you? If you give me a truthful answer, I’ll take the stick away.”
Barmond hesitated, then nodded ever-so-slightly. The stick came out and the first thing he did was to spit on the ground.
“Never put objects that have been laying on the ground in my mouth again,” hissed the vampire. “This taste disgusting. Also, you will need to wash your hands before you get to touch my fangs ever again because who knows where those went.”
“Duly noted,” said Hugo.
Then he leaned down and kissed Barmond into silence.
It was not a soft thing, this kiss. First off, Hugo’s beard tickled Barmond’s cheek and nose, and then he used a lot of teeth and tongue to plunder into him. Not that Barmond minded, in fact he had expected nothing less from Hugo and that’s what he liked about it. He was mostly surprised that the other was into him at all. He would have never guessed...
Wait a moment.
Barmond pushed Hugo again, frowning. “You like me.”
Hugo blinked several times, surprised. “Yeah? What about it?”
“Since when?”
“Since...”
Hugo couldn’t go on as he started to laugh, and laugh, and laugh. He had a very nice laugh, deep and from the belly, but Barmond didn’t really like the fact that he was looking like he was laughing at him.
“Nothing’s funny here,” he said as he crossed his arms. “For once I was starting to think that you were halfway decent.”
“Don’t tell me you never noticed,” said Hugo as he wiped a tear.
“Noticed what?”
“That I liked you a lot. I don’t let members of my own pack get away with half of the talking back you do. They’ve even started to complain about it. Heck, I called you little lovebite. Isn’t that a term of endearment among your kind?”
Barmond’s mouth dropped open, then he frowned. “But you belittled me! And shoved me! Heck, you’ve even spanked me.” And, come to think of it, a group of succubus nearby had all giggled when he had done that last thing. As if they had made a bet... or as if they were in on some secret.
“That’s called teasing. You’re really dense, for a vampire, aren’t you?” muttered Hugo as he leaned in again.
He looked like he was going for a kiss, and there was a hunger in his eyes that made warmth coil in Barmond’s stomach. He was sure that if he had enough blood, he would be growing hard; he recognized the feeling of unrest in his mid-drift.
“I should have outright told you,” mused Hugo. Their lips were almost touching. “At first, I thought you didn’t like me at all, but then Ran told me that you did. I thought that you just liked being feisty. Not that it is a bad thing, mind you. T’makes you cute.”
“I’m not cute,” said Barmond. He added a hiss for good measure.
Hugo hummed and finally kissed him. This time he went for the fangs and Barmond let him do. He moaned needily in the werewolf’s mouth when they were stoked. As if to reward him for his response, Hugo tilted his head and sucked on one, with his lips and tongue, and Barmond was sure that his pants would have been really uncomfortable by then. All that was around them was starting to fade away until the only thing that existed where their mouth, one over the other, and the soft sounds of pleasure the vampire produced.
“Where is my second in command?” asked Ramphoros himself from outside.
Barmond jolted in shock and tried to pull away but Hugo grabbed his face to keep kissing him. His tongue pressed insistently on those sensitive spots against Barmond’s palate, turning him into a helpless pile of mush. He was only vampiric after all.
“He’s busy,” said the woman from Hugo’s pack. Wait, had she been guarding their hiding spot? Had she heard everything?
“I know that he’s busy, I can smell his boner from here, Patricia,” replied Ranphoros in an unamused tone. “So either you go in there and tell him to stop slacking off and distract Barmond, either I do it myself.”
This time Hugo broke the kiss and muttered a few curses under his breath as he adjusted his pants. “Damn dick-sucker” were among them, and Barmond’s mind was in a place dark enough that he imagined doing just that to Hugo.
“I’m sure he’ll be out in a moment,” she replied, before leaning over to look under the curtain. “Sir?”
“I’m coming,” said Hugo as he got off Barmond and stepped outside. “Don’t need to get angry. You need to get laid, you know that?”
“And you don’t,” replied Ranphoros. “I want your report. And Barmond, your nets are laying in the way. Go pick them up like you’re supposed to.”
Barmond, that been hoping that he might be forgotten ducked out covered in shame and passed them quickly, without daring to look at them in the eye. He wanted to crawl into a hole and die there.
“Look what you did,” he heard Hugo say. “Now I’m never getting another chance after this.”
“A battlefield clean-up is hardly the best place for wooing,” answered Ranphoros. “That begs the question of how you brought him over from all the way over there to the infirmary, but you can include that in your report. We don’t have all night.”
And that was the last of what Barmond could make out as he walked away. He was glad that he was lacking blood now: people were eyeing him, as if everyone knew (or maybe it was just the weird way he ducked down as he walked.) His pride wouldn’t have survived spouting a blush or a boner.
Well, at least it... had been an experience. He had a lot to think about.