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Tommaso's heartbeat pounds in his skull.
All he feels is hunger - here, where he should never be more sated.
Lucio is beneath him. Pale and soft and awestruck as he permits him entrance, hips raised and legs parted, feet brushing against the small of his back as he pulls him closer. Deeper.
His moans make his vision blur.
And God, he's so warm.
He fucks him with all the love and admiration and desperation that's been building in him all this time - however long it's been of this immortal eternity of knowing him, falling for him, wanting him, but being so afraid of what exactly that craving entails. And whether he can ever trust himself not to act on it.
The shame lingers in him even now, no matter how hard he tries to push it down.
He's beautiful like this.
He's been beautiful from the moment Tommaso's eyes first met his. But there's a new type of beauty to be found here with his long hair straying untamed in all directions against the pillow and his lips flushed pink from his kisses, the urge to sink teeth into flesh barely suppressed.
That he'd let him fuck him at all is enough of a gift. He'd be greedy to ask for more. To entertain ever acting on the sort of thoughts that enter unannounced into his dreams, the same kind he fights to push aside while awake.
He'd be a fool to think of any part of him as his. But just for this moment, he lets himself pretend.
He keeps it buried deep. Stays silent, even when Lucio calls his name in search of a response. Even when he reaches out a trembling hand to pull him close, legs squeezing him closer where they latch around him, eyes pained with the kind of need that blends so painfully into fear.
He breathes hard through his nose and fucks him harder in the hopes that it will satisfy him enough to stop him from seeing so easily through him.
He wants so much more than this.
He wants to give him all of him, raw and exposed. He wouldn't be here if not for the fact that he fell in love with him, just as hard and just as true, knowing exactly who and what he is. And yet it's the very nature of that love that fills his mind with the fear of every way he could lose it.
His fingers claw into the sheets, his muscles tensing and his lips drawing tight as he fights harder still for an iron grip over his own thoughts.
The soft warmth of Lucio's hand on his cheek is enough to break the torrent.
"Tommaso," he says, the worry on his face almost too much to confront. "Please. Say something."
Tommaso opens his mouth, too slow to find the words. It's Lucio's voice that comes instead, small and trembling.
"You feel so far away."
This time the confession falls from his lips too quickly for him to stop it.
"I want you, Lucio."
Lucio smiles weakly and Tommaso can't resist the urge to lean into his palm.
"You already have me."
He swallows hard as conflict drives him apart - so grateful for this, for him, but all of it tainted by forces so far beyond him. Part of him regrets even being here, regretting even trying at all for some sense of a normal life if this all that lies at the end of the path.
What felt like a lifetime waiting for this moment only for it to be yet another thing taken from him by this absurd affliction.
He should have crept out before this, he could have made a quick meal of whoever was closest, hope and pray it would satisfy him enough to keep his mind off the hunger in his stomach that was painful before but agonising now. Somehow just the thought alone makes him feel unfaithful. But he'd rather live with the guilt of that than the despair of breaking that which he could not repair.
He knows Lucio won't let his questions go unanswered.
"This isn't enough," he says unwillingly, eyelids pressed tight, so hard to even look at him.
"No?" Lucio asks, patient and gentle, but in one word alone Tommaso can still hear the slightest flicker of disappointment.
Lucio's uneasy eyes look up at him as the air against his cheek turns cold and something begins to ache in his chest.
"No," Tommaso says quickly, a different sort of fear beginning to grip him now. "No, no- I don't mean it like that."
"Then tell me what you mean."
"I need-" he starts, strength and words both failing him even in the face of Lucio's limitless patience, "I need more. I want all of you."
His lips twitch helplessly, his thrusts slow and sloppy while release still seems so far away.
Lucio sees through the distraction. Of course he does. Maybe that's all this has ever been about: distraction. Distracting him from what he really is, carnal desires hiding something far more puerile and unspeakable and so much harder to explain, let alone ask for.
But there go the visions in his head again, hungry, animal - and proud of it. Desperate for release, and so dangerously close to it now, so hungry for him, his fragile body so tempting, the opportunity so perfect if only he'd let himself-
"Bite me," Lucio says, and the world forgets to turn.
Tommaso's hips slow to a halt.
"What?" he asks, unsure whether this too is another starved delusion.
"That's what you want, isn't it?"
Lucio's body trembles against him. His eyes are wide. But there's something that lies deeper beyond the fear that flickers on their surface; he can feel it in the heat of his breath. Curiosity and desire combine to set a fire hot enough to rival his own, and all Tommaso can do is feel his breath catch in his throat.
"Yes," he says, the admission falling from his tongue before he can stop it. His heart races faster, his gaze faltering where his eyes fix to the ceiling - anything to keep himself from turning them down to his neck.
Lucio is too clever and too knowing to let it go unnoticed.
"Then do it. Have me, any way that you want."
His voice is still, worshipful.
"But - don't hide from me, understand?"
Tommaso's eyes fall to his in guilt.
"I do," he nods, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry."
It all seems so impossible to explain - his conscience weighing on him for months each time he'd sneak away in the dead of night and hope he wouldn't notice, hope he'd never have to learn to whom his mind wanders each time he feeds on someone else, desperate thirst twisting the truth to let him pretend it was him.
He'd hoped he'd never have to confront it. It was enough already for him to have even let him in, to his life, his heart, his home. To know of his affliction and choose to love him anyway. If there was one thing an existence this long had taught him by now, it's that this kind of love would always have to be paid for with a distance increasingly hard to keep.
But now he isn't so sure.
"I want all of you, just as you are," Lucio says, like the first confession of love all over again.
"I don't want to hurt you," he says, his voice quiet.
"You won't," Lucio replies, though his hands tremble along his back. "Show me, Tommi, please."
There's a whine in his voice, his fingers pulling him closer as his cock jerks where it's pressed between their stomachs. Tommaso remembers where he is, what he's doing, rewarding him with gentle thrusts and letting his sighs soothe him.
He brushes the hair away from his neck, letting himself look for the first time without shame. Lucio takes his hand, guides it with his. He holds it against his chest, devotion across his face while Tommaso savours the mortal beating of his heart.
"You'll tell me if it hurts, won't you?" he asks, licking his lips without thinking. "Tell me if it's too much, I'll stop, I mean it."
"I know you will," Lucio says.
"Please, promise you'll tell me-"
"I promise," he insists, lips curled into a smile though they twitch with the same nervousness that's in his hands.
"Alright," Tommaso says, steadying himself. Leaning into his trust, content to put his faith in Lucio more than he ever could in himself. "If you're sure."
Lucio nods, and Tommaso leans in. Close enough to press into him deeper, Lucio's legs spreading wider, each limb latched around him. Willingly his, in all his entirety.
His fingers brush his neck, the skin so soft he'll be sorry to break it. God knows how long the marks will last; he's never checked up on his victims to learn. The thought of him bruised and tender, bearing the evidence of him out in the open for days, weeks, maybe - it's too much to bear.
Tommaso calls his name in something between relief and worship and suddenly everything turns red.
Lucio's voice is in his ear, wordless sounds escaping as his teeth threaten to prick at his flesh, soft and gentle at first, enough to get him used to the sensation. He's kissed him countless times before, but never here. Slow seconds pass where all he does is kiss him, the salt of his skin tasting almost as good as what lies beneath in the moment.
The grasping hands at his back beckon him to finally sink his teeth deeper.
Lucio jolts in response, electricity passing from one body to another, a curse escaping through his teeth as his blood bathes Tommaso's tongue for the first time.
He keeps no number in his mind of how many people he's made meals of. He keeps no scores, no records; he could hardly even put faces to the bodies with which he's sated his hunger in weeks gone by. In moments of weakness there was only ever one face he saw, one voice he imagined calling out to him in the dark.
One pair of hands upon him, one lock of sweat-dripped hair tickling his cheek. One body beneath him, against him, however he could have him.
Each time there was one thing that shattered his wilful delusions and pulled the curtains down on his pretence: the taste.
When teeth pierced flesh he'd always know the truth. No matter how he searched for Lucio in his victims, shamefully seeking out every type he could - a musician in the darkness outside a club, a smoker he'd lured in with a lighter one night at the steps down to the metro, an airy, androgynous creature closing down a gallery - the taste would continue to disappoint.
Even without tasting him, he knew.
Each of them was dull and lifeless in ways that he knew Lucio could never be; even the best of them forgettable as any other as each feeding blurred from one into another until nothing could satisfy him anymore. Their fear would sour the taste, and even beyond this, there was always some inexplainable something missing.
At times it was enough to convince him he'd finally lost his mind. A lifetime of preying on others had satisfied him plenty before, only now did it suddenly begin to leave him so empty.
It was like the moment Lucio permitted him entry to his life everything that came before lost its colour.
And with his blood on his tongue the world before him comes back into life.
His blood is hot in ways he never knew it could be. He tastes the smoke, but it's sweeter in him, earthy and rich. There's no fear spoiling his taste; instead he could swear he can taste the heat of his desire, feeding into his own like an aphrodisiac.
There's a fire in him like none before, restraint slipping away with Lucio's encouragement at his hips, guiding him to fuck him deeper while he drinks. His body grows hotter where it writhes and jerks below him in response to each movement inside him, muscles tightening around him as his name falls from his tongue again and again.
The dual sensations overwhelm all else in his mind, human sense drowning underneath pure animal hunger as he alternates between lapping and sucking at the wound while Lucio tremors below him. He's as careful as he can not to drink too deep, but after weeks, months - how long has it even been? - of wanting and yearning and pushing aside the urges, how could he spurn Lucio's pleading permission and not let himself indulge?
Lucio shudders and squeaks and slurs out obscenities below him while he does, the difference between signals of pain and pleasure too impossible to ever discern while every part of him only seeks to pull him closer, fingernails clawing into his back.
Tommaso rewards him with soft kisses and slow, deep thrusts as his climax creeps up on him in dizzying waves - the difference between the ecstasy of the feed and the physical release of orgasm ever more unclear.
"Thank you," he says, vision blurring as his breath hitches in his throat. "Thank you, thank you, thank you-"
Lucio's hand finds its way to his head, stroking his hair and, to his surprise, holding him in place.
"Don't stop," he gasps. "Please."
He catches his eye for just a moment as he looks over at him, his face pale but his eyes intense, pupils blown out with desire.
All this turmoil only to realise Lucio would have him drain him dry if he could have his way.
He bites into him again, softer this time, leaving marks along his collarbone and smearing blood as he claims him. Lucio moans in his ear, each bite prompting sharp gasps and a needy "ah- ah- ah-" while he tenses around him, hands flailing to grab onto every part of his he can - his hair, his back, his shoulders, desperate to leave him with some marks of his own.
Tommaso fucks him with every ounce of strength he has left, the bed shaking as he laps mindlessly at the blood that's still flowing, so close to being full, and so desperate to fill Lucio with something of his own in exchange.
"H-How does it taste, Tommi?" Lucio stammers, hips raising beneath him, the angle just right.
"Fucking amazing," he gasps, so hard to form words. "You're perfect, Lucio, you're-"
He's interrupted by Lucio's finger at his lips, dousing it in his blood. In shock he watches as he puts it to his mouth.
His own blood smears across his lips redder than last night's lipstick and Tommaso's mouth falls open at the sight.
Lucio looks up at him through lidded eyes, beckoning him to understand his meaning. Tommaso doesn't need to be told twice.
He frantically kisses the blood off his lips as his orgasm takes hold in an instant, tongue pushing between them to let Lucio taste himself while he comes hard inside him, swallowing every moan he lets out in response.
He doesn't stop fucking him, not until he's done, cock twitching against him in anticipation before his lips fall open against his chin and wet heat spreads across Tommaso's stomach.
He kisses him breathlessly, not content to stop until he's cleaned the last of his blood from his lips. Lucio is in no state to stop him.
"Tommaso," he says, breaking the spell once he's had his fill.
His eyes snap into focus, the animal desire that had so overcome him melting away in an instant. The guilt returns for a moment when his eyes flit down to his crimson-smeared shoulder and the deep stains on the pillow.
"I'm sorry about the mess," he says - the only words he can think to say.
Lucio titters at his quite thoroughly emptied mind.
"Don't be," he smiles. "I hope you feel better now."
How he feels? Words couldn't even describe it sober. He doesn't even try. His mind turns to Lucio instead, his face paler than normal in the low light. A protective instinct stirs in him, sure to treat him even gentler than usual in the coming days. No matter how much he's sure he'll protest to the inevitable fussing.
He'll need to treat his wound before the night is over, too.
"I'm sorry if it hurt."
Lucio's eyes turn catlike, his next words coming out as a low purr:
"I liked it."
His cock gets one last jolt of excitement from that, the heat rising back up to his cheeks as his eyes run over the evidence in admiration.
"I didn't think you'd like it that much."
"Then there are still some things you don't know about me," he says, far too proudly.
It's enough to make Tommaso begin to wonder precisely who should be afraid of whom in this relationship.
Lucio pulls his hand away from where it caresses his newly blooming bruises and rolls over to make space beside him, keeping him close as he lies down at last.
"We could make this a habit, if you'd like," he says.
Tommaso directs his wandering eyes back up to his.
"The biting? Or the sex?"
Lucio shoots him a look of teasing disbelief.
"Both, I would hope."
More sex, well, that can be arranged. But he'd better not encourage the other kind of indulgence too much if he wants to have any blood left to even last the week.
Besides, his appetite is more than contented, at least for a little while. Being here beside him feels different now.
"I'm sorry for hiding from you," he says, his voice low. "I was so afraid of hurting you. That I'd lose control and push you too far."
His eyes drift away again. Lucio guides them back to his, focused despite his daze.
"You don't know how hard it's been to trust myself around you. I didn't think you wanted to see this side of me."
Lucio regards him carefully, frowning in understanding while his hand comes to rest along his cheek.
"I just want to do things right, Lucio," he says, cupping his hand with his. "You're worth that."
"But you have. You really think I'd be here if I didn't want to know all of you?"
Tommaso leans into his touch, smiling meekly at his reassurance, almost embarrassed to admit he'd ever second-guess Lucio's own wisdom.
As ill-advised as it probably is.
Lucio weakly raises a red-stained finger to Tommaso's lips. He kisses what's left of the blood from its tip, and gets a smitten smile in response.
"Now, tell me," he starts. "Do all vampires worry this much about their prey?"
Tommaso huffs, leaning in close enough to let their foreheads touch. Lucio kisses the tip of his nose.
"I'm not sure," he replies. "Maybe it's just me."