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It’s a poor escape attempt.
Feline eyes watch from beyond the dark, staring at the young man trying to find an exit that isn’t blocked by the unsettling pale blue stare. He whips around in a panic, and again, and again, but he keeps being met with that stare. It follows him, spiralling and disorienting. It’s a cruel game: the vampire gets closer and closer every time he turns around. Stuck in a parking garage with a predator renders you nothing but prey. Heart racing, breath painful and burning in his throat the more he tries to run. Muscles aching, every bit of him buzzing with adrenaline.
Jasper tastes the fear in the air: sweet, a little bitter, sliding down his throat as he now appears closer to Guy than he has since they started this little chase. They stand so close together their noses are nearly touching, the two of them near equal in height, Jasper unflinching, Guy startling, but trying to remain big, keeping his back straight, even though Jasper hears how the blood inside his body races everywhere at light speed. He can feel Guy’s breath on his face and the corner of his lip twitches with a kind of sick delight. Hot breath, laden with the taste of their chase. A thrilling kind of taste that leaves Jasper hungry for more.
The moment between when Jasper raises his hand and when Guy steps back feels like an eternity — time, like honey, slipping from an icy glass, dripping down like syrup — which he uses to observe him. Stalking, calculating. Waiting.
In the dark of the parking garage, Guy looks even more doe-eyed than usual: eyes shining wetly under the poor LED-lights, near crying, flitting up and down over Jasper’s frame; his hands and knees trembling, unstable; and every bit of him screams Jasper’s name. From the clothes that Jasper dressed him in, the black shirt, the dark jacket, the slacks, clinging to his legs with a rare luxury, to the freckles hiding beneath his jawline, the curls in his hair and the skin and muscle on his bones — every single part. A tempting fruit hanging low in the garden, bending the branch down, inviting him to take.
Guy starts moving, but Jasper is faster.
One step back, the world moves in slow motion: for a moment, Guy is nearly suspended in the air.
Another step back, right as Jasper’s hand connects to his cheek and knocks him to the hard concrete floor. Within that same second, Jasper gets on top of him, pins him down with his knees so he can’t escape, grabbing his wrist and putting his full weight on top of him, keeping him there. The contact is white-hot, a pair of shackles all around him, heavy chains dragging Guy to the ocean floor.
A soft pink blooms across Guy’s white cheek. Growls from deep inside Jasper’s chest arise with the words he snarls at Guy’s face, coating him in a thin layer of spit.
“Who the hell do you think you are?!”
“Let me go!”
“You child!” His hands — claws — find their way up to Guy’s face. Despite his anger, an instinct forces him to keep his nails away from Guy’s skin. “You think you can come into my world and toss me in the ditch?!”
“I don’t know what you think happened with her!” Guy’s voice is strained as he tries to fight against Jasper’s grip. Another poor escape attempt, pushing his hips up to try and throw the vampire off him, knowing his nails and teeth are dangerously close to his throat, ready to rip open the artery and let the blood flow like a river after its dam has been broken. Jasper’s lip curls over his teeth, fangs not yet making an appearance, but being dangerously close to doing so.
And the slightest mention of the girl enrages Jasper all over again. A fickle ember burning in his stomach, his chest, a searing kind of emotion he cannot name — beyond rage. It makes him tighten his grip on Guy’s wrists, his arms, his legs, his hair, his mind even more.
His voice rises to a yell, echoing off the walls of the parking garage. “You don’t want things the way I want things!”
Jasper forces Guy to look at him, gripping his hair, his warm hand gripping the cold one, trying to pry it off his skull — the nails scraping against his scalp. He leans in, closer and closer to Guy’s face. “You can’t, you haven’t been alive long enough. You puppy! I walked from Bolivia to Texas! I had nothing! I had no one!”
Spit raining down on Guy’s face, humiliating in its own regard, but careless, enraged. He desperately tries to kick Jasper off him, knees connecting everywhere, but making no effect, and trying to turn his head away from the fury on Jasper’s face, the relentless torrent of angry words. “I told you how determined I am. I’ve shown you what I’m building down here. You know what I want to destroy! But you don’t take me at my word!”
Jasper feels Guy going limp beneath him: a surrender of sorts, or perhaps Guy has accepted his death — but he couldn’t have, not with that light in his eyes, that look on his face, that tremble of his lip. His pupils are blown wide with fear, so much so that Jasper can almost see his own reflection in them, as much the monster as everyone keeps saying he is.
A lethal calm washes over him as he studies Guy closer, how he still squirms while trying to play dead. “Instead… You try to get in my head and root around,” he says, watching the fear creep even more into Guy’s eyes. He brings his hands up, letting go of his wrists, and rubbing his palms all over his face and the anger, the frustration, it all comes back. Guy groans, straining against him, trying to get those hands off him. A bit of fight left in him after all! “Yeah, yeah! I felt you reading my mind since we left the hotel. You think you’re smooth? Think you’ve got moves?”
He emphasises, so close their lips nearly touch, “I have all the moves!”
Jasper almost gently caresses Guy’s face, watching him go nearly entirely still, if it weren’t for the terrified shaking, the trembling, of both his body and his face, and even his mind. It almost looks like Guy tries to say something, but his voice seizes in his throat, only small sounds of distress leaving it, hanging in the air between them. What delicious sounds.
It’s a front. A vampiric instinct, some may call it, to comfort the prey before it is devoured. Jasper shoots down, his fangs appearing in the blink of an eye, shimmering in the dim light of the garage, brushing against the virgin skin of Guy’s throat. A hiss follows, feline or serpentine — it doesn’t matter to the poor victim about to have them lodged in his neck. Guy jerks his head back on reflex, but it only exposes his throat more.
“Say it.”
It’s a torturous whisper. Jasper isn’t trying to compel Guy into speaking his mind: he is using it as a threat, a barely veiled preview of what’s to come if he doesn’t listen. The promise of teeth in his jugular, a lecture in self-preservation — ending in a bloodless body on this disgusting concrete floor.
“S-Say what?”
Guy can barely get the words out. He mirrors Jasper’s hiss. It’s music to his ears, those words laced with such intense fear. A smugness crawls over his tongue and mingles in his voice.
“You know what,” he says. “See, unlike you I’m really good at this, and I’ve been bopping around your porridge bowl all night and you’ve got stuff held up tight, like does the girl have my fucking book?!” The words reverberate off the walls and pillars like a mad prisoner rattling the bars keeping him locked up. “But it’s the primal shit that you just cannot hide. So go ahead, say what you’re thinkin’.”
He leans closer, closer, closer towards Guy’s neck, which he exposes by gripping a handful of curls on the back of his head and pulling down. There’s a hint of gentleness in it, a façade of it, a front: the pretty colours of a siren perched on a rock, singing a sailor to his doom with a song so beautiful he doesn’t even notice the danger. But Guy does notice the danger — he surrenders to it, knowing he cannot get out of this even if he tried.
Jasper almost can’t control his fangs. Guy’s neck is so inviting, blood rushing to the surface so quickly. It almost sings to him, but Jasper manages to hold onto his resolve and whisper, “Say it.”
“I—” Guy struggles. The fight has long since abandoned him, as he lies still beneath him — a slight squirm as Jasper pins him to the ground tighter.
“Say it,” he repeats, quieter this time.
But Guy doesn’t speak. He stares at him, blue eyes wide, frozen, overtaken by fear, with not a sound coming out of his mouth besides his own shallow breathing. Jasper stares at him, his own eyes unblinking, wanting to see every microexpression of fear and terror that passes over Guy’s face — the muscles tensing and twitching in his brow, his bottom lip still shaking, but now covered in a thin layer of saliva.
Guy’s voice is quiet, lingering on a whine. “I don’t wanna die.”
“What?” Jasper says, turning his head and leaning in closer, mocking Guy, as if he doesn’t hear him.
Guy makes unwavering eye-contact with Jasper now. “I don’t wanna die,” he says again, a little more sure of himself.
It’s in this moment, when Guy is so still it seems like he’s playing dead, that Jasper takes a peak in that little head of his. That head, which has been a whirlwind since leaving the hotel, displays fragments of images of all that Guy is thinking about: a vampire drinking from the arm of a young man chained to a briefcase; the ancient vampire’s head being torn off; a flash of a dark ponytail; Jasper, leaning over him, seconds ago, the word “puppy” playing over and over again in his voice; Jasper’s sternum, exposed beneath the buttons of his shirt; Jasper, ripping noises out of him that would put even the Devil to shame; Jasper, his fangs exposed; Jasper; Jasper; Jasper.
The corners of Jasper’s mouth twitch. “You’re not gonna die,” he says, leaning back, still straddling Guy. “I’m gonna give you purpose.”
By some miracle, Guy’s eyes go even wider. “Wait—”
Jasper lets out a breathy laugh as he settles his thigh between Guy’s legs, moving up until he makes contact. Guy lets out a shuddering breath that borders on a moan. He’s almost painfully hard in his trousers and the bare contact is electric.
“Fucking asshole,” Guy manages, but he can’t resist rolling his hips into Jasper, desperate for more contact. He tries to make his voice even, to make it tougher than he’s actually feeling, but it comes out in a whine, keening high in his throat. He manages to place a hand on Jasper’s chest, trying his hardest to push him back, but knowing the attempt is futile.
“You’re gonna have to do better than that, baby,” Jasper says, grasping the wrist and pinning it above his head, his exposed skin against the cold concrete. He allows Guy to squirm, to thrash — he’s still a predator, and even when the chase is won, he loves the struggle, the fight — but he moves his thigh in between his legs, creating friction, but only the barest parts of it. He’ll have Guy begging, or he won’t have him at all.
“This is mean,” Guy whines.
“No,” Jasper bites, “lying to me after I’ve given you everything is mean!” He emphasises this with a slap to Guy’s cheek, leaving him breathless, head turned to the side so his cheek hits the ground. Jasper grabs his collar and pulls him closer. “I could still kill you—” His fangs descend, lower this time, as he brings Guy closer to him, “— and you should thank me for it. You don’t wanna die, huh? Show me what you’d do to keep your life.”
“I didn’t lie!” Guy tries, so desperately, as Jasper’s hand finds a home around his throat, nails scraping his arteries. “I don’t know who she is — I don’t know what she wants! She followed me— she interfered— I- believe me, Jasper. You have to believe me!”
Jasper snarls. “Did you not hear me? I told you to show me how badly you want to live. I don’t care about any of your excuses.” He presses his knee against Guy’s crotch again, applying and removing pressure like the tide. “Move.”
Guy makes an attempt. Such a poor attempt, but it’s almost endearing; Guy rolls his hips up again, stuttering because of the angle, but he lets out another pathetic sound that makes Jasper almost lose his composure, but he manages to hold onto it with his claws.
“Jasper, I can’t- I can’t,” he says. He tries to wriggle his hands loose, but only makes Jasper hold onto him tighter.
“You can,” Jasper mocks. “And you will. Move.”
“I need something- anything.” Guy is holding onto the little semblance of dignity he has left within him, but he’s moving. He’s rubbing himself up and down Jasper’s thigh now, and Jasper tilts his head at him as he slowly removes his hand from his throat — but Guy makes a sound of loss at that. It’s music to Jasper’s ears. “Jasper—!”
“Ask nicely,” Jasper says, “and do what I asked you to do. Maybe I’ll consider granting you more.”
“Jas—” Guy tries to speak more, to talk back again, but a moan rakes through his entire body when Jasper presses his mind against his. His mouth is agape, lips parted and wet with spit, and so inviting, but Jasper only pushes his thoughts into Guy’s head more: Guy, face pressed in the mattress, a hand on the back of his head, a bite mark in his neck; Guy, on his knees in front of Jasper, mouthing at the fly of his jeans; Guy, sobbing with relief as his body twitches against Jasper, legs wrapped around his waist.
Jasper leans in, closing the gap between the two of them, bodies flush against each other now. Guy is more enthusiastic now, humping Jasper’s thigh like a dog. His sounds become more frequent, louder — Jasper lets go of his wrists, allowing Guy to hold onto him.
“Jasper,” Guy whines, breaks, “please.”
“Please what, puppy?”
The pet name earns Jasper another loud moan. “Touch me, bite me, kiss me,” Guy breathes out, grabbing Jasper’s hand to lead it down to his crotch, “please.”
Jasper allows Guy to direct him, but only for a short while. He hums in satisfaction when he presses down on Guy’s lower stomach, fingers dipping into his waistband but never travelling further down than the elastic of his boxers. Guy still moves against him, still rubs, but his hips stutter, hesitate, as tears start to form in his eyes, and Jasper moves down to kiss his cheeks ever so gently — a strange contrast to everything else he’s done to him so far. His kisses trail down to Guy’s open mouth, teeth catching on his lips.
“Please,” Guy whispers against him, jaw slack with the effort of keeping his hips moving. Jasper smiles, and properly kisses him for the first time.
It’s a demanding, heavy kiss: Jasper forces Guy to slow down, hand on his hips halting his thrusts, while he steals the air from Guy’s lungs. His tongue traces the outline of Guy’s oh so human teeth, no sharp edges, just the blunt tips of enamel that can barely break skin. He grabs Guy’s leg and pushes it aside, making room for him to settle in between. The kiss turns salty as tears flow down Guy’s cheeks freely, his entire body trembling against him with the oversensitivity and remnants of fear left within his mind.
Guy gasps as Jasper rolls his hips against him, a sweet sound that’s lost in between their mouths. Jasper snakes his free hand up to grab Guy’s throat again, and Guy welcomes him almost greedily, tilting his head back against the floor. They tangle in a kiss, hot, heaving with sobs and moans all the same — Jasper can’t control himself from groaning against Guy’s lips. He feels Guy’s cock twitching in his pants, a smirk coming to his lips as he slides his hand all along Guy’s side, down to his waistband again, this time dipping down into it and feeling exactly what kind of wet mess he has created.
Guy almost howls when Jasper’s cold hand wraps around him, bucking his hips up into him, losing his control even further as there is now more friction to be found, all new sensations everywhere. Jasper notices how Guy tries to hold on to his clear thoughts, trying to focus on the cold floor — but Jasper’s hand is also cold —, on the kiss that they just shared — but it’s intimate and it makes Guy want to rut against Jasper more —, on Jasper’s eyes staring him down — but those icy blue irises with their unrelenting gaze make Guy weak. Jasper moves his hand up and down with a skilled flick of his wrist, applying just enough pressure for Guy to be sated, though slowly, and just too little for him to get off.
“That’s it, baby,” Jasper whispers in Guy’s ear, tongue flicking out to lick the shell. Guy arches into Jasper, spine coming fully off the floor. “Now you’re being good.”
“Please,” Guy begs, “please, more.”
“More?” Jasper lets out a laugh, silent but cruel. “You’re greedy, aren’t ya?”
Guy sobs. “Please let me cum.”
“You’ll cum when I tell you to cum.”
Rolling his hips again, Jasper pulls his hand back from Guy’s cock, making him cry at the loss. He hiccups, hands pawing at Jasper everywhere: his back, his arms, his neck, and his face.
Jasper looks at Guy, who is now red-faced and swollen, eyes bloodshot with how much he’s cried already, hair messed up with curls everywhere, lip trembling, sweat staining his shirt around his pits and his chest — truly, he’s a work of art — and he smiles. Fangs pricking his bottom lip, eager to find a home within Guy’s throat.
He moves his hand to cup Guy’s cheek, gentle but demanding in its own right. He’s let go of his throat, that beautiful throat. An expanse of pale skin with a few moles and freckles, the ones that Jasper could only fantasise about before, now laid bare in front of him. It’s hard to control himself, but he manages to as he licks a stripe up Guy’s neck, ending at the sensitive spot behind his ear. Guy lets out another pathetic sound among his heavy breathing, which only electrifies Jasper more.
“You still want more?” he asks, lips brushing against his skin.
“Please,” Guy manages to say, sobbing raking through his voice.
Jasper grins, excitement difficult to contain. He takes Guy’s throat between his teeth, blunt at first, but then sharpness follows as his fangs descend fully. Tearing through the layers, blood seeping out, slowly at first, coating Jasper’s tongue like a syrup.
Guy tastes sweet. Sweeter than any other mortal blood he’s ever tasted; caramel and fear, cinnamon and adrenaline. Jasper groans, honestly groans against the bite as he drinks. Not enough to kill, no. Guy so badly wants to live, it’s tangible in his blood. The little drink, so tempting, so thrilling. Guy writhes underneath him, moaning and sobbing, hands grasping the back of Jasper’s shirt, uttering small ouches under his breath, as well as small curses and whispers of Jasper’s name.
When Jasper pulls back, Guy’s face is a mixture of torture and bliss. His eyebrows are knitted together in a desperate frown, his mouth half open in half a scream, half a moan, his throat now bleeding from two very perfect puncture wounds. Jasper half jokes to himself this might be his best work yet.
However, as he kisses the side of Guy’s neck, lapping at his wound, he gets an idea.
He pulls back almost fully, Guy’s hands falling off him weakly, and he brings his hand to his mouth. He spits in it, Guy’s still-hot blood mixed with his spit, and he frees Guy’s cock with his other hand. Guy’s eyes, half-lidded before, widen.
“That—” he tries, the syllables getting caught in his mouth, “that’s fucked up—”
But his feeble attempts at protesting get silenced quickly when Jasper takes his bloody hand and wraps it around Guy’s cock again, stroking up and down in a torturous pace. This time, he gives Guy no time to breathe, no time to adjust to the sensation, now reinforced with the slick blood.
“That’s it,” Jasper says, gripping Guy’s hair in his hand as Guy’s face distorts, scrunching up as his hips snap up to chase the pleasure, the orgasm that’s building, rising to the surface like a tidal wave. “Give into it, baby. Give into me. You’re being good, you’re being so good for me.”
Guy climaxes and he fully presses himself flush against Jasper above him. His body stutters and shocks, moans and gasps leaving his mouth without a sense of control left within him. He utters Jasper’s name over and over again, almost like a prayer, and he tries to regain his breath.
Jasper kisses him, but his hand never leaves Guy’s cock. He keeps stroking him, cum mixing with the blood and spit, and Guy’s resolve fully breaks. Where he’d barely controlled himself before, he’s now lost it, moaning and begging and crying. He begs Jasper to stop at points, but when Jasper slows, he can’t make up his mind and he begs for more.
So Guy comes again. And again. And again.
The sounds coming out of his mouth aren’t coherent anymore. There’s whines and moans, sobs as well, with tears and snot streaming down his face, body limp but convulsing underneath Jasper. Overwhelm takes the upper hand, and Jasper loves how malleable Guy is right now. Putty in his hands, all to himself.
“You’re a good dog,” Jasper says, kissing Guy all over his face. “You did so well.”
He wipes his hand on his pants, carefully manoeuvring off Guy so he can slide his pants back up and close them, kissing his lower stomach as he does. Guy flinches at that, but leans into the touch eventually. He comes back up and kisses Guy through his heavy breathing, though his mouth and jaw are slack and unmoving, trying to recover from the onslaught of sensation he just went through. He wipes the tears from Guy’s cheeks.
“Let’s get you upstairs, hm? You need a shower.”
“You’re still a fucking asshole,” Guy says weakly.
“Hm,” Jasper muses. “We’ll have to work on your attitude.”