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The vampire struggled, and the hunter fisted a hand in his hair, grinding his face against the rough concrete floor.
Silence and stillness fell. The only sound and the only movement was the vampire hunter’s heavy breathing, as he caught his breath after the long chase.
He leaned in, slowly, until his lips brushed the vampire’s cheek. The vampire growled and twisted, but was pinned too well. The hunter trailed his lips across the cheekbone, over the temple, and touched the shell of the vampire’s ear. When he spoke it was a rough, breathless whisper.
“To the victor go the spoils.”
The vampire moaned, long and loud.
A slight pause. The vampire hunter began to snicker.
“Guillermo!” Nandor snapped.
“I’m sorry,” Guillermo said, still laughing, not sounding sorry at all. “You’re just so bad at this.”
“I am not!”
“You are! You do this every time! Maybe we should skip this part?”
“What!” Nandor tried to turn to glare at Guillermo, but the human still had his head pinned down. “We cannot leave out the sex part! Then it is not a sexy vampire hunt, it is just a vampire hunt where we don’t die!”
“It’s just…it’s really hard to keep in character when the person you’re supposed to be ravishing is enthusiastically consenting at the top of their lungs every step of the way. It’s the role play equivalent of trying to kick a door down and someone opens the door while you’re midswing.”
“But what about when I win? You are saying you do not want me to ravish you?”
“Well considering we’ve done this, oh, four or five times now and you’ve never even come close to winning—“
Nandor made an indignant noise.
“Why don’t we cross that bridge if—“
“When!”
“If we get to it.”
Nandor glared up at him, so incensed by this disrespect to his warrior’s prowess it almost drowned out the lust.
Almost.
Guillermo sighed.
“I’m not saying we can’t have sex! Let’s just skip the part where we pretend you aren’t desperate for me to fuck you.”
“I’m n-uhhhh.”
Guillermo grinned and ground his hips down again, sending sparks of anticipatory pleasure flickering up Nandor’s spine.
“Yeah you are.” He nibbled the lobe of Nandor’s ear, then nuzzled the soft skin just behind it. “You want it so badly. Is that why I keep winning? Are you even trying? You just want me to chase you, is that it?”
Guillermo halted suddenly. Nandor, still pinned and still extremely horny, jabbed at him with an elbow, trying to find whatever button was going to restart his lover. From what he could see of Guillermo’s face at this angle, he was grappling with some fresh revelation.
And then, abruptly, he wasn’t.
“Let’s play a new game,” he said, his voice low with desire. He let his hand slide down to grope at Nandor’s thigh. “You run, and I’ll chase you.”
“We already did that,” Nandor whined, trying to press back into Guillermo’s grip. “You caught me.”
“Trust me,” Guillermo said, pressing his mouth to Nandor’s neck. “This time it doesn’t stop when I catch you. You keep trying to get away, and I’ll keep chasing.”
Nandor frowned, puzzled by this alteration to the familiar game.
“So...when do we stop and have sex?”
“When you can’t run anymore.”
That sounded promising. Nandor considered it. He was a little tired from the fighting and running he’d already done, but like hell he was going to admit that to Guillermo.
“Okay,” Nandor said. Guillermo released his grip and stood, giving Nandor a hand up. Nandor brushed himself off. He’d dressed for the occasion, forgoing the cloak and stiff waistcoat in favor of shirt and pants loose enough to comfortably move in but tight enough to not provide an easy grip.
“Do you need me to count to ten?” Guillermo asked, innocently. Nandor sneered at him and took off. After a few seconds—rude—he heard Guillermo’s footsteps follow.
Nandor was far too curious to try too hard to get away, so he’d barely made it to the end of the hallway before Guillermo caught him, spun him around, slammed him up against the wall and kissed him hard.
It wasn’t the usual post-chase kiss, though. No biting teeth or tearing hunger. It was a bruising kiss, but somehow gentle. Not aiming to take but to give, filled with what would be better described as desire than lust.
Nandor wrenched free and backed away, feeling even more confused than before, as well as…flustered, if he was willing to admit it. Guillermo matched him, step for step. Everything from his expression to his movement reminded Nandor of a wolf stalking a wounded baby deer—the complete and utter confidence of a predator that knew it was going to feed well.
This was quite normal; under these circumstances, Nandor would have been more concerned if he hadn’t seen that expression.
But the look in his eyes was wrong. It was too warm, too affectionate, too—
Guillermo smiled sweetly, without a hint of hidden menace or duplicity, and for the first time in all the times they had played this game, Nandor felt a thrill of fear.
He ran.
Guillermo chased him.
Nandor ran until he found a set of stairs and raced up them as quickly as he could—but he’d misjudged how high up the building they had already gone, and two flights up, he was faced with the fire exit to the roof. He turned and hurried back down the stairs, perfectly timed to nearly collide with Guillermo coming up the other way.
By mere inches, Nandor managed to slip past him and through the door into the building’s top floor. This one had been an office and he was running down rows and rows of ancient, dust-covered desks. He glanced over his shoulder and saw no sign of pursuit.
Automatically, he paused, confused, which was an absolutely idiotic move. The second he did it, he realized his mistake, but it was too late. Guillermo swooped in from the left, having circled around rather than come directly behind him, and drove him sideways. They grappled, but Nandor was caught off guard and in seconds Guillermo had him flat on his back on one of the desks. The dull wooden edge dug painfully into Nandor’s lower back, but Guillermo had him pinned by his wrists and his hips and his mouth.
Guillermo rolled his hips forward in jerky, unsteady motions as his mouth pressed hungry kisses along Nandor’s jaw. He shifted his grip and got both Nandor’s wrists gripped in one hand. The other came down to grab at Nandor’s ass, at his thigh, to lift his leg and press it up around Guillermo’s waist.
“You’re amazing,” Guillermo said, and Nandor’s muscles locked up in something that wasn’t fear, but wasn’t not fear.
“I wish you could see yourself like I see you,” Guillermo said against Nandor’s lips, his hips slowing to an almost glacial pace. “Not just like this, all the time. Sometimes when we’re at home I look at you and I forget how to breathe—”
Nandor wrenched his wrists free and brought his elbows down sharply against Guillermo’s shoulders. Guillermo grunted in pain and stumbled back, and Nandor took off again.
He didn’t understand this game anymore. This wasn’t how it worked. You didn’t have foreplay in a hunt, the hunt was the foreplay, so why didn’t Guillermo just fuck him and be done with it? The game had always been two powerful warriors battling for dominance, but this—
No, Nandor would not submit so easily. He was a warrior, not a frightened rabbit, he had fangs and claws and strength to use both. He sped up and rounded a corner. Once out of sight, he stopped and turned and readied himself.
Guillermo rounded the corner and his eyes went wide with shock. Nandor didn’t give him time to react—he lunged and grabbed Guillermo’s arms, intending to pull him to the ground and pin him down. There was a very complicated moment where Guillermo suddenly seemed to turn into a liquid. With almost comedic ease he slid free of Nandor’s grasp, grabbed Nandor’s arms, and used the vampire’s momentum to send him crashing to his knees with his arms pinned by his head.
It reminded Nandor of their very first fight. Of the first revelation.
Hypnosis doesn’t work on me, I only let you think it did so you wouldn’t feel weak.
But this time Guillermo was on his knees behind Nandor, pressed against his back. Questing fingers found their way under his clothes and seemed eager to touch every inch of skin at once—as far up his shirt as Guillermo could reach without unbuttoning anything, squirming down the waistband of his pants.
“You drive me nuts, sometimes,” Guillermo said, panting into Nandor’s ear through the curtain of his hair. “You can be hands down the most infuriating person I have ever met in my entire life, bar none. That’s how I know this is real love, though.”
A whine slipped out from Nandor’s throat, a strange sound that didn’t seem to involve his vocal cords at all, something that came from far deeper than that. Those fingers didn’t still for even a moment, now feather light fingertips teasing the skin at the join of Nandor’s hips, now a firm palm sliding up his stomach, nails raking gently down his back.
“Even when you’re at your worst, when you’re fucking around with my life or being an absolutely brat—” This came with a pinch to the side that made Nandor startle. “—I still love you more than anything. Even when I want to kick your ass, I want to kiss you.”
Nandor turned into a vapor. Guillermo lurched forward, nearly falling as his grip was suddenly on empty air. This was cheating, although they’d never expressly agreed that it was. So Nandor only stayed a vapor until he was a foot or so down the hallway, and then solidified again. He caught Guillermo’s eyes, and the human chuckled. It was a fond, playful sound.
“Run run run,” he told Nandor, grinning, and Nandor did.
There had to be an explanation of how Guillermo got in front of him, but Nandor couldn’t fathom what it might be. All he knew was he’d taken two turns and ran straight into Guillermo’s open, waiting arms. Nandor was clasped against his chest, a hand on the back of his neck dragged him down to meet Guillermo’s mouth.
It was another one of those bruising, passionate kisses that froze Nandor’s brain out of sheer confusion. Almost as soon as it began, it stopped–Guillermo dropped his arms and stepped back. Nandor bolted. He didn’t think about attacking, he didn’t wonder why Guillermo had let him go, he didn’t even think about where he was going. He just ran.
It was the instinct of a prey animal faced with an unexpected predator. The only thing that mattered was to get away.
He was the prey now, fully and completely, and Guillermo was toying with him. The human would disappear and reappear as if he too had somehow acquired the ability to turn to smoke. He would snatch Nandor up, kiss him until he forgot he didn’t need to breathe, and then let him go again. Hands came darting out from the shadows to grope and pinch and stroke, his body, his face, his hair. More honeyed words.
To overcome Guillermo, Nandor needed to utilize tactical thinking, but to do that he needed at least half a second to think, and Guillermo wouldn’t give it to him. Nandor was being herded, allowed to run to fewer and fewer places, and the smaller the area got, the more Guillermo tormented him.
It was the words that were the best and worst. Sweet nothings and genuine compliments, all of them utterly, agonizingly sincere.
Once, horribly, wonderfully, Guillermo had gotten him on his back on a desk again and…looked at him. Didn’t speak, didn’t even touch him except for the suddenly gentle grip on his hips. His eyes had run over every inch of Nandor’s face, then his neck, his arms, his chest, his legs. Nandor had felt the stare as if it was a touch to his bare skin.
Guillermo’s eyes had gleamed with appreciation and anticipation. It was the look Nandor might once have given a fine meal, or a newly purchased horse.
Then he’d once more stepped back and let Nandor run.
Nandor’s final mistake came after Guillermo had pinned him in a corner and covered his face in feather-light kisses that nearly made Nandor’s knees give out, and he’d almost forgotten to run away when Guillermo let him go. He was so off balance that he wasn’t looking where he was going, and ran straight into a room with only one way in.
And no way out.
He whirled around, but it was too late. Standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, was Guillermo. Even lit from behind, Nandor could see the smile.
“Hey handsome,” he said, in a light, teasing voice. “You ready to stop running?”
Nandor shook his head, silently, not daring to take his eyes off Guillermo. The man chuckled and stepped back out of the way. Nandor–stupid, half-blinded by his own adrenaline–didn’t think twice. Guillermo tripped him quite neatly as he passed, and Nandor hit the floor hard.
He barely had time to realize what had happened when Guillermo grabbed his shoulder and flipped him over roughly, covering his body with his own. Guillermo’s mouth was on his throat, hot and insistent, sucking at the skin exactly the way Nandor liked it best.
A sound like a sob wrenched from Nandor’s chest. The hands slowed and the mouth stopped.
“Just say the word,” Guillermo murmured. His heart was beating so hard Nandor could feel it through two ribcages. He would stop, if Nandor told him to. Nandor probably didn’t even need to say sunrise, he could just say stop and Guillermo would. Guillermo was always so, so careful.
But the thought of Guillermo stopping was terrifying. It filled him with a kind of gaping, aching horror that he didn’t understand. He wanted to run, he wanted to get away–but to have Guillermo let him go…
Nandor summoned all the strength he had and shoved Guillermo away. He ran but his legs were shaking—all of him was shaking—and he barely got a few feet before Guillermo effortlessly caught him up in his arms.
There was no force to it this time, either. Guillermo spun him almost gently and more pressed Nandor against the wall than shoved him. The look in his eyes was dark and desirous and adoring, and it made Nandor tremble.
“Please.” The word slipped out, and Guillermo paused, waited to see what the next word might be. He never pushed further than Nandor wanted to go. But Nandor didn’t know what word would come next either.
“Please…?” Guillermo prompted.
“Please.”
Guillermo’s arms wrapped around him, so strong but so gentle as if Nandor might break—and he might. There was no tearing of clothing or grasping hands, but a gentle insistence as unstoppable as the tide. Guillermo stripped away shirt and undershirt until cool skin was bared to cooler air. Every inch was welcomed with possessive worship. Nandor wasn’t sure if the words were in his head but they were in Guillermo’s voice—mine. Mine. Mine.
Guillermo’s hands drifted lower, undid Nandor’s pants one button at a time. It was only the sudden relief of pressure that made Nandor realize he was hard. How long? The whole time? It would explain why he’d had such difficulty running. Or maybe it had been hard to run because he’d been fighting the urge to not run. He welcomed Guillermo’s mouth against his own as if it was lifeblood and he had been starved for decades.
Nandor had seen and taken part in debaucheries that defied imagination, but the simple slide of Guillermo’s tongue against his left him weak and whimpering as he was divested of the last of his clothing.
Then the hunter laid the vampire down upon the ground and claimed his prize.
The words came again, as terrible and wonderful as ever, as Guillermo worked him open and tore him apart at the same time.
“I was worried I’d gotten it wrong, but I didn’t, did I? I know those sounds. That’s the sound you make when you really want it. My favorite sound. I realized it was never about the fight, it was always about the chase—that’s why you never wanted to win. I’m good, but five times in a row is a little suspicious.”
Nandor said nothing. He was beyond words now. Guillermo’s voice swept through him like a sandstorm, scouring away all but the very core of him, tender and fragile.
“You wanted to know what it was like to have someone want you so badly they wouldn’t let you get away. Well now you do.”
Guillerm pressed inside of Nandor in a slow, unrelenting push. Nandor’s back arched like a bow being pulled taut and again that sob shook free from his chest. Guillermo rearranged them both until his hips were pressed flush, and he stayed there, oh-so-patient, until Nandor…relaxed was not the right word for it. More, lost the strength to be tense, could do nothing but lie back and take the love that was pouring so freely.
“I’ll always come after you. You could run and run, but you could never stop, because I’d catch up to you. Every day you’d know I was getting closer and closer to you. I’ll never, ever let you go. You’re mine—and I’m yours.”
“What—” Nandor said, his own voice surprising him. “What…would you do? If you caught me?”
“When I caught you,” Guillermo said, emphasizing the words with a sudden jerk of his hips, out and back in, knocking the breath Nandor forgot he didn’t need right out of his lungs. “When I caught you,” he said again, prompting.
“When you caught me,” Nandor whispered.
“I would love you,” Guillermo said. “Make love to you, if you let me. And if you didn’t, I’d still love you. Every part of you.”
Guillermo began to move in a slow, steady rhythm but Nandor barely felt it. His mind was too loud, emotion drowning out sensation. Nandor wanted to sink into it and he wanted to break away; he wanted it to stop and he wanted it to go on forever.
“Even if—”
“Even if.”
“But—”
“No.” The word was letters carved so deep into stone that there would not be enough time in the universe to wear it away. Guillermo leaned in, bending Nandor’s knees up to his chest, and now Nandor felt the pleasure coursing through him, felt his toes curling and his body shaking. Guillermo was shaking too, and if Nandor was any clearer of mind he would realize how much effort the man was putting into staying coherent.
“You could send me away, if you really wanted, and I would go, but if you ran, if you fought, no matter what you did or what you said, I would come for you.”
Something in Nandor’s mind clicked, and suddenly he understood not what Guillermo was saying, but what Guillermo meant.
If Nandor decided to end it, Guillermo would respect it, but if Nandor didn’t want him to leave then Guillermo would not go. He would never tire of the chase—would never get bored. He could not be beaten—could not be driven away by frustration or unkind words. Nandor could fight all he liked and it wouldn’t matter—no matter how petty, annoying, condescending, selfish, arrogant, prideful Nandor could be, Guillermo would never, ever give up.
Nandor wept.
He wept to be so loved. To be something worth fighting to keep. To let go of the fear of being too much or too little; to be, without alteration or illusion, enough. To have someone who knew every inch of him, who could tear down every defense to uncover the softest part of his heart, and would be kind to it.
Guillermo’s love for him was an ocean, and Nandor might drown, but he would never die.
Nandor wasn’t sure if he had fallen asleep or passed out or simply went away into his own head, but at some point he arrived back in his body to find himself wrapped up in Guillermo’s arms, his face pressed against Guillermo’s bare chest. He wasn’t crying anymore. He wasn’t hard, either, but he couldn’t tell if he’d come or not. It didn’t really matter. He’d gotten what he needed.
With some effort, Nandor raised his head and looked at Guillermo, who smiled.
“I love you,” Guillermo said, and Nandor believed him.
Nandor lurched forward and buried his fangs in Guillermo’s shoulder muscle.
“Ow! Fuck! Nandor, what the fuck!” Guillermo’s hands flailed uselessly, trying to shove Nandor’s face away without having to do anything as drastic as jam a thumb in Nandor’s eye. Nandor ignored this attempted interruption, and focused on drinking exactly as much as he needed, and no more.
He released Guillermo and fumbled blindly through the piles of clothing, trying to find his left boot.
“What the hell?” Guillermo demanded, sitting up and pressing a hand to the wound. “If you wanted me to stop you could have just said! That is literally what the safe word is for!”
Nandor didn’t answer; he’d found his boot and the little knife he almost never remembered he kept in there. He jerked the blade free—Guillermo let out a squawk of alarm and tried to topple backwards. Nandor grabbed his wrist and dragged him in again.
“Give me eternity,” Nandor breathed.
“What?” Guillermo said, his eyes fixed with genuine concern on the knife in Nandor’s hand.
Nandor’s hand was the only part of him that wasn’t shaking as he lifted the knife to the side of his neck. He cut a thin line at the join of throat and shoulder, slicing open the big artery. Without a beating heart, the blood didn’t spray the way it would have in a human, but it ran in a thick, cool stream.
He saw more than heard Guillermo’s breath catch in his throat. Nandor let go of Guillermo’s arm and instead cradled the back of his head. Guillermo’s eyes slid closed as Nandor guided him down to press his mouth over the wound. Nandor turned his head and pressed his nose to the sweat soaked curls.
“Give me forever, Guillermo. Give me an endless life with you,” he said, barely above a whisper. A small tremor rocked through Guillermo, a small cut-off sound that might have been a sob of relief.
Maybe Nandor wasn’t the only one who needed to know someone wanted him.
Nandor traced his fingers across the expanse of skin laid out before him, which would always be laid out before him, now. Something small and shaky but too happy to be anything but a smile crossed his lips.
“My love,” he whispered. “My eternal love.”