“Do you think he’s okay?” Leanne asks, around midnight, when the lights out on the streets are as dim as they’re going to get. “He’s been in there for awhile.”
Vashyron puts down the pistol he’s been cleaning, getting up to rap on Zephyr’s door.
“Hey, Zephyr! Come out. We’re not gonna bite, or anything.”
A voice issues from inside, a little muffled, like its owner has his head buried in a pillow. “Very funny.”
Leanne joins him at the door, putting her mouth to the keyhole. “Come on, Zephyr. We like you even if you’re dead.”
There’s a scraping sound and the door swings inward. Zephyr steps into the kitchen light, parting his lips. His fangs shine, white and razor thin.
“Shit, look at those,” Vashyron says.
Leanne leans in closer. “They look so…sharp.”
Zephyr claps a hand over his mouth. “Stop making fun of me.”
“Hey, this is an important life lesson. Now you know not to follow pale women into dark alleys.”
“Shut up.” Zephyr lowers his hand. “I’m hungry.” His voice has deepened, torn ragged around the edges.
Vashyron and Leanne glance at each other.
“Hungry for cold soup and oranges, I hope,” Vashyron says. “Because that’s all we got.”
Zephyr shakes his head. His eyes have slipped down from Vashyron’s face to the curve of his shoulder. “You know for what.”
Vashyron grins, flipping his hair away from his neck. “I guess I can help you out. As long as you promise to respect me in the morning.”
Zephyr snarls, flying out of the doorway and riding Vashyron down onto the couch, so hard they nearly rock it over backward.
“What, no foreplay?” Zephyr’s straddling his hips, pinning his hands to the back of the couch. “And with an audience, too?” Leanne’s standing by the wall, gun in hand. Vashyron’s not sure if she actually plans to shoot Zephyr, or if it’s a security thing.
“Just don’t let him kill me,” is about all he’s able to get out, before Zephyr growls and strikes, fangs sinking into the meat of Vashyron’s neck.
At first there’s just pain, bone-deep and blinding, followed by a rush of numbness that reminds Vashyron of the first stages of hypothermia. But then Zephyr starts to suck and the feeling hits him like a grenade, low and hot. “Oh, fuck.” He clutches at Zephyr’s back, vision swimming to blackness. It feels like the couch has spun away from him, and he’s suddenly unable to tell which way is up. He’s so hard he can barely stand it. “Fuck yeah, Zephyr…”
He feels a wrench, Zephyr writhing in his lap, and the world slams back in a rush of color. The pleasure spikes and he comes with a groan, just as Zephyr pulls away.
Leanne is on the couch beside them. One of her hands has crawled its way up Vashyron’s thigh, and her breath is coming fast and shallow. Zephyr’s eyes have cleared a little, though when he leans in it’s to lap delicately at the cuts on Vashyron’s neck. He groans as a ghost of pleasure shivers through him.
“Are you okay?” Leanne asks, eyes wide and interested, the way she’d looked the first time she’d seen him cock a gun.
“I can’t feel my legs,” Vashyron says, and his voice is slurred and tired. “But other than that I’m good.”
Zephyr pulls back again, purring low in his throat, licking his fingers clean. Vashyron rubs his hands over his thighs, grinning despite the fact that he’ll probably be dizzy for the next couple days. “So, anything else we can do to accommodate your new style of—.”
A hand laces in his hair and he’s cut off by a tongue pushing into his mouth, lips soft and clumsy. It takes him a couple of seconds of delirium to realize that it’s Leanne kissing him and not Zephyr.
“What was that for?” he asks, when she finally releases him.
Leanne pushes her hair out of her eyes and smiles, a little sheepishly. “I was feeling left out, and his mouth was busy.”
Zephyr, as if to prove her point, licks one last droplet of blood off his index finger, cheeks hollowing as he sucks. He appears to be fully lucid again.
“What’s the matter, old man?” he asks. “Don’t think you can keep up with both of us?”
Vashyron exerts some effort, managing to sling an arm around Leanne’s waist and pull her nearly on top of him. “Are you kidding? I can go all night.” He winces slightly as his vision spots, shaking his head to clear it. “As long as it doesn’t involve standing up or using fine motor skills.”
Leanne laughs, a little more evilly than is standard for her. “I’m sure we’ll find some use for you.”
Fic--Vashyron/Zephyr/Leanne--vampire AU
Vashyron puts down the pistol he’s been cleaning, getting up to rap on Zephyr’s door.
“Hey, Zephyr! Come out. We’re not gonna bite, or anything.”
A voice issues from inside, a little muffled, like its owner has his head buried in a pillow. “Very funny.”
Leanne joins him at the door, putting her mouth to the keyhole. “Come on, Zephyr. We like you even if you’re dead.”
There’s a scraping sound and the door swings inward. Zephyr steps into the kitchen light, parting his lips. His fangs shine, white and razor thin.
“Shit, look at those,” Vashyron says.
Leanne leans in closer. “They look so…sharp.”
Zephyr claps a hand over his mouth. “Stop making fun of me.”
“Hey, this is an important life lesson. Now you know not to follow pale women into dark alleys.”
“Shut up.” Zephyr lowers his hand. “I’m hungry.” His voice has deepened, torn ragged around the edges.
Vashyron and Leanne glance at each other.
“Hungry for cold soup and oranges, I hope,” Vashyron says. “Because that’s all we got.”
Zephyr shakes his head. His eyes have slipped down from Vashyron’s face to the curve of his shoulder. “You know for what.”
Vashyron grins, flipping his hair away from his neck. “I guess I can help you out. As long as you promise to respect me in the morning.”
Zephyr snarls, flying out of the doorway and riding Vashyron down onto the couch, so hard they nearly rock it over backward.
“What, no foreplay?” Zephyr’s straddling his hips, pinning his hands to the back of the couch. “And with an audience, too?” Leanne’s standing by the wall, gun in hand. Vashyron’s not sure if she actually plans to shoot Zephyr, or if it’s a security thing.
“Just don’t let him kill me,” is about all he’s able to get out, before Zephyr growls and strikes, fangs sinking into the meat of Vashyron’s neck.
At first there’s just pain, bone-deep and blinding, followed by a rush of numbness that reminds Vashyron of the first stages of hypothermia. But then Zephyr starts to suck and the feeling hits him like a grenade, low and hot. “Oh, fuck.” He clutches at Zephyr’s back, vision swimming to blackness. It feels like the couch has spun away from him, and he’s suddenly unable to tell which way is up. He’s so hard he can barely stand it. “Fuck yeah, Zephyr…”
He feels a wrench, Zephyr writhing in his lap, and the world slams back in a rush of color. The pleasure spikes and he comes with a groan, just as Zephyr pulls away.
Leanne is on the couch beside them. One of her hands has crawled its way up Vashyron’s thigh, and her breath is coming fast and shallow. Zephyr’s eyes have cleared a little, though when he leans in it’s to lap delicately at the cuts on Vashyron’s neck. He groans as a ghost of pleasure shivers through him.
“Are you okay?” Leanne asks, eyes wide and interested, the way she’d looked the first time she’d seen him cock a gun.
“I can’t feel my legs,” Vashyron says, and his voice is slurred and tired. “But other than that I’m good.”
Zephyr pulls back again, purring low in his throat, licking his fingers clean. Vashyron rubs his hands over his thighs, grinning despite the fact that he’ll probably be dizzy for the next couple days. “So, anything else we can do to accommodate your new style of—.”
A hand laces in his hair and he’s cut off by a tongue pushing into his mouth, lips soft and clumsy. It takes him a couple of seconds of delirium to realize that it’s Leanne kissing him and not Zephyr.
“What was that for?” he asks, when she finally releases him.
Leanne pushes her hair out of her eyes and smiles, a little sheepishly. “I was feeling left out, and his mouth was busy.”
Zephyr, as if to prove her point, licks one last droplet of blood off his index finger, cheeks hollowing as he sucks. He appears to be fully lucid again.
“What’s the matter, old man?” he asks. “Don’t think you can keep up with both of us?”
Vashyron exerts some effort, managing to sling an arm around Leanne’s waist and pull her nearly on top of him. “Are you kidding? I can go all night.” He winces slightly as his vision spots, shaking his head to clear it. “As long as it doesn’t involve standing up or using fine motor skills.”
Leanne laughs, a little more evilly than is standard for her. “I’m sure we’ll find some use for you.”