Archive of Our Own

It had rained every night that week, this night being no exception. Roxanne had invited him to some late night coffee at a local shop, exhaustion in her voice as she promised a good story from her long shift she had just gotten off of. Nyx always enjoyed listening to her gossip about her work life, and he suspected that Roxanne was picking up on it.

After they left the quaint cafe, they started walking along the sidewalk, peering into shop windows, the streetlamps the only light in the moonless night. It had already been sprinkling then, but the rain had picked up as they walked. The shoulders of Nyx's uniform had already soaked through with rain when he finally decided to call a taxi. The car's wheels parked right in the middle of a growing puddle next to the sidewalk.

Nyx opened the back door for Roxanne to step inside. She stepped closer, turning to him. She says, “Will you get a ride for yourself?” She was aware that the church was in the opposite direction of her apartment, so they would have to part ways here. Her eyes moved to look at his wet shoulders and hair. Her black fur coat had kept most of the rain off of her, both of them forgetting umbrellas.

“The church isn't far. I will be fine walking.” He says, offering an assuring smile. “I promise.”

Roxanne's brow furrows slightly as her mouth turns down in a small frown. She gestures down to his attire, “You're already soaked!”

Her eyes light up with a thought. “Well… if you insist. Here. I won't be needing this anyway.”

Before Nyx can question her, she brings her hands up to slip the thick black fur coat off of her shoulders, revealing the deep crimson dress she was wearing underneath. She brought it around Nyx to set it on his shoulders. The coat immediately swallowed him as she pulled it shut around him, making his cheeks flush.

“There, that should keep you warm at least.” She says as she turns back to step into the car. She looks back at him, her eyes taking all of him in for a moment, “I'll give you a call in the morning, darling. Be safe!”

And with that and a little wave from Nyx, the taxi scoots off. He stood on the sidewalk for a moment, slightly dazed.

The black faux fur of her coat tickled the sides of his neck, making his flush deepen. He takes a shaky breath in and his nose fills instantly with a warm and expensive smelling fragrance, radiating off of the inside of the coat. He recognized it as a perfume she often wore, noticing its familiar scent when she would embrace him as they departed for the night or when she would lean into his space to whisper something into his ear.

On twitchy legs, he turned on the sidewalk and started in the direction of the church. The fur coat reached to cover most of his thighs, the sleeves falling over his hands as he slipped his arms into them. It felt so warm on his rain soaked skin, making him nuzzle his chin into its collar to chase that warmth. His flush travels down his neck when the perfume fills his senses.

It's such a rich scent, smelling of cinnamon and pomegranate. Rich and intricate yet gentle, almost like her.

The church was only around this corner and two blocks north, his feet carrying him on autopilot. His mind was still back at the cafe, replaying how she had laughed at one of his bad jokes like it was the funniest thing ever. How she had clutched her chest and slammed a hand on the table, laughing loud and crazed. He felt like he was seeing the real her, the woman under all of her charm and glamour.

His heart clenched at the memory of her face, it ached.

The coat had no hood, so he was still rushing, the tall spires coming into view in no time as he shakes the thoughts away. Nyx jumps up the steps to stand under the entrance's overhang for shelter. He knew that there were still sisters working at this hour who would ogle at him wearing something like this, and he didn't want there to be any more rumors than there already were of Nyx and the mysterious woman who visits him only at night. For a bunch of devoted holy folk, they sure love to gossip.

He slipped around the side of the building, gliding through the rain as he sprinted to the back of the structure towards the rectory's back entrance. After he takes a peek inside the door, he moves inside, closing and locking it. He didn't even need to get his keys out, the cleaning shift usually forgetting to lock this door.

His legs move quickly through the back hall and up the stairwell to his room on the second floor. He thanks the fact that it's a Saturday night and most of the creatures living here were out, the church having a pretty lenient curfew.

He steps into his room and lets out a huge breath he didn't realize he was holding, shutting and leaning against the door behind him. His skin feels raw and uncomfortable against the wet fabric of his cassock. He begrudgingly slips Roxanne's coat off of himself and hangs it on the back of the chair at the table in the center of his room.

His hand came up to his collar, slipping the white flap out of place to unclasp the fabric on his neck. His fingers move down to undo the many buttons holding the cassock shut with a familiar fluidity. His chilled skin hits the stagnant air and he shudders, his shirt falling to the ground carelessly.

His pants came off soon after his shoes with a harsh tug down his legs. Arms come up over his head to stretch out his tired muscles, a groan leaving his lips. He catches the reflection of his pale body in his vanity mirror, his lilac skin bleeding into its natural white tones. The white hair hanging past his shoulders and down his back was clumped up with rain water.

He steps out of his wet socks, stepping over to the vanity to grab his hair brush, running it through his wet strands. His eyes wander while they look into the mirror, settling on the belt between his legs. A thin strip of metal wrapped around his hips, straps wrapping around the creases of his thighs and a mesh chainmail covering his groin.

He couldn't remember when he had started wearing it, maybe a little while after he joined the church. He had completely cast aside romantic endeavors not long after he hung up his pistol during the industrial revolution. And he never got close enough to anyone, anyway. It seemed like the right choice when he arrived here. To swear his celibacy, but also wear this.

Fingers slide out from his hair and down to trace over the warm metal. It smoothed over the contours of his hips, fitting him perfectly. Intricate detailing is carved into the surface, traveling down to his pubic bone where the metal turned into mesh that covered his core. He set the brush down and brought his hands behind his back to undo the clasp at the back of the belt, the cage falling open and onto the carpeted ground with a small jingle of metal.

His naked body stares back at him. Charcoal smudged eyes obscured by pin straight hair that's still drying, thin hips and waist connecting to wide shoulders. The metal of his arm shone in the lamp light.

He brought his flesh hand up to the wooden shoulder of his prosthetic, twisting to disconnect it with a slight hiss from the motor. He set it on the round table next to the oil lamp he had left on when he first set out that night. His eyes flicked over to the large black mass of fur still hanging over the chair.

He should get dressed into his sleeping clothes. He should cover up and lay in bed until his eyes fall shut.

His hand slides across the table to thread his fingers into the fur. It was still slightly wet with raindrops. His mind remembers the raindrops that nestled into Roxanne's curls, her thick eyelashes clumped together from the moisture. Drops of water running down her chest—

Nyx pulls the coat up to him with clenched fists and hugs it, stuffing his face into the collar and taking in a shaky breath. He lets out a blissful whine as he breathes out. It smells like coming home. She smells like it. It felt like he was holding her as he nuzzled into the damp hair.

Nyx remembered the feeling of her waist under his flighty touch as she pulled him into a hug, pressing her chest into him and wrapping long arms around his shoulders. She was usually a good few inches taller than him with her heels on, leaning down slightly when she hugged him, making him feel utterly surrounded in her.

He let out a full body shudder, the cold fur tickling his naked skin as he held the coat against himself. His hips twitched against the soft fabric and he let out a mortified noise. He got a glance of himself clutching the coat to his body in the mirror, cheeks ruddy and hips twitching at just the smell of her coat.

Oh Lord, what was he gonna do with himself?

Guilt sours his heart as he slowly pulls the coat away from his body. If Roxanne knew what he was doing with her coat right now, he's sure that she would never speak to him again. He was just a sad recluse of a priest and her…

She was everything. She was the personification of beauty and grace. She lives her life with the purpose of experiencing all of it. The charming vampire could have anything she ever wanted if she simply asked nicely. So sweet and elegant while also holding so much power in her hands. Her sharp nails could puncture and bleed out anything, her toned arms and legs seemed plenty able to deal damage if she wanted, and her teeth…

A sad little whimper escaped him.

He felt the cold air in between his wet thighs and he shuddered. He looked down at the coat, considering. Another breeze blows onto his flushed skin and he pulls the coat over his shoulders. He pulls his hair out from under the collar as he looks into the mirror again. Thin, pale legs extend out from the bottom of the massive coat. It made him look so small, whereas it perfectly fit the woman it belonged to. The extra layers of fur on the front collar of the coat laid just right on her, held up by her large chest. The waist was cinched around her, making her curves stand out even over a coat.

It laid long and big on him, the shoulders being the only thing that fit his body. He thinks back to when Roxanne looked at him right before she got in the taxi, her eyes looking him up and down thoughtfully. Nyx gets so nervous when Roxanne really looks at him, her sultry eyes making him feel pinned under her examination. Even the memory of her eyes on him is making his heart flutter.

His feet step backwards until the backs of his knees meet his bed, falling back onto it with a huff. The ceiling stared back at his lovesick expression as he played with the fuzzy sleeves. He curled his legs into himself, almost trying to fit as much of himself into the coat as he could. Cinnamon and pomegranate embraced him in the coat's darkness. If he focused hard enough, he could imagine her arms around him and her chest pressed to his back.

As he laid there in the shelter of the fur, his nose picked out another scent on its collar. This one much more faint and smelling of apple-scented shampoo and something else he couldn't describe.

He loved it all so much.

He felt so grateful to be covered in the lingering presence of her body. He sounded like a man obsessed, but that's because he absolutely was. Every moment she's with him, he is ecstatic just to be with her, and when she's not his mind replays her gentle voice and the way she talks with her hands like a skipping disk.

His inner turmoil was interrupted by Nyx letting out a huge yawn, realizing just how late it had gotten since he first left.

With reluctance, he slid his body out of the coat, leaving it on the bed to walk over to his table and blow the lamp out. He watched the moon silhouette his body in his mirror as he rushed back to his bed, falling back into the warm embrace.

He was falling, and it hurt, but he wanted it.

He wanted, and he would want, forever.

…

Roxanne…

___

The vampire came up to him as he sat on the edge of his bed, her hips swaying with each step. She lifted one knee up to settle in between his. Nyx looks down at her closeness, but a finger tilts his chin up to meet her gaze. Her eyes are hungry.

She looked so deep into his eyes, the ice freezing him in place. “You want me, baby?” she whispered.

“Yes…. always, want you all the time.” he breathed.

He didn't know who was speaking for him. “I don't know when I didn't. I- … please…” he didn't know what he was asking for, he just wanted her.

Two firm hands take his shoulders and suddenly push him down onto the bed, the woman slowly climbing on top of him with a blue flame in her lidded eyes.

“I see you staring, yearning. Wanting me in ways you can't even begin to understand.” She brings her head down to be just over his.

Her teeth peek out as she talks. “Do you want what I have to give?”

Her hair falls around her face like a halo of fire. Wild and free. The darkness in her face wasn't oppressive, but quiet, soothing.

He nods, scared to look away from her even for a second. He wanted so badly it ached.

“Even like this?” She sits her hips down on his, fully trapping him under her.

“Me over you, taking you for myself?” Her hands squeezed his shoulders, feeling the thin bones underneath. “Not letting you go?”

Her body was wrapped in cream silk, her long legs parting from it where they straddled his frame, caging him in, not letting go.

She smiled down at him.

All he could see was her. An unmovable force above him to worship.

“Please… don't let me go.” He whimpered.

Nyx asks with the song of his heartbeat, and she listens, she always listens.

‘Take me, all of me, I'm yours.’

Her long nails go into his hair, petting him as she leaned her head down to the crook of his neck, just breathing him in.

“Will you be mine, angel?”

Her hands trace the scars on his chest and the line of his stomach. They were cold, and he loved it. His body set ablaze against her calm chill. A thumb felt his bare mound and he keened. “Yes, yes, yes… yours… all yours.” He moans, “Take me, take everything.”

Her fingers find their way into his waiting, flushed hole as her fangs pierce into the meat of his neck. Everything he needs. This is everything.

Nyx cries into the air, tightening inside as he comes from the overwhelming pain and pleasure.