Blade and co. do not belong to me, obviously. This fic is based off a fever dream I had, so forgive me if it's a little weird. It's pretty depressing if you look at it on the perspective of the overall film, but I guess the ending is up to the reader...? Sorry...
For youth is youth, and time will have it so,
And though thy lips are pale, and thine eyes wet
Farewell, thou must forget.
~Anonymous French poem, fifteenth century
"Scud! Little buddy!" The door to the small, high-ceilinged room slams open, Reinhardt's voice echoing around the tiled walls.
Scud does his best not to flinch as the vampire yanks firmly on one of the tethers that hold the familiar in place, arms stretched out at shoulder height, seated on his knees atop a steel table in the middle of the room. He's naked, blindfolded and gagged, which he's gotten pretty used to by now, working for the Blood Pack, but he can't help the cold fear that stabs through him when Reinhardt leans in and informs him, "We've got a little surprise for ya, Scuddie." The Pack leader steps back and calls over his shoulder, "Bring 'im in!"
A series of footsteps come shuffling through the door. Scud counts them in the back of his mind, hoping rather despondently that this isn't going to go like last week, when somewhere between ten and fifteen vamps took turns with the blinded and bound human. He recognizes the slight limping gait of Priest, the heavy thud of Lighthammer's boots, and the sullen shuffle of Chupa, but there's another set of steps he doesn't know- not even steps so much as a slow drag; he realizes they must be half-carrying whoever it is.
"Okay, boys, I want you to play nice now," Reinhardt says, and Scud can hear him smirking. The other vampires laugh, and their mystery guest snarls, apparently not finding the situation as humorous as they do, and Scud feels the blood drain from his face because that is not a normal vampire snarl. The laughter immediately cuts off and there is a moment of frantic scattered footsteps, followed by a thud as the Blood Pack drops their cargo and scurries away from him. Scud almost laughs at that, but at the same time he's wondering exactly who this new visitor is and what about him is making the Pack so nervous.
"Clear out." Their leader orders. "You two have fun, now. Scud, you be sure to entertain our new friend, huh?"
Scud throws a few muffled curses over his shoulder at the vampires, choking on the gag, and hears more laughter from the hall as the door slams shut.
For a long, frozen moment, the only sound is the ragged breathing of the newcomer from where he landed on the floor. He inhales, seemingly testing the air, and Scud hears the soft sound of skin on tile as the stranger pushes himself up onto his feet. The human tenses as the new being grips the side of the table, leaning in. Scud can smell his breath, sickly sour-pungeant. Raw meat and airplane glue- ketones. They're starving him. Scud knows this game, knows the Pack are motherfuckers for playing it with his life. Take a reluctant or disobedient vampire- usually a newbie- and starve them for a few days, weeks, a month even, then lock them in a room with some unfortunate bastard. Sometimes it's a person from the vamp's past; a sister, boyfriend, mother, son. Sometimes- as in this case- it's just a poor 'volunteer' familiar.
All Scud can do is hold his breath and try to slow his pulse, hoping that this guy has enough self-control left to keep from ripping his throat out. He wishes that at the very least Reinhardt had had the decency to leave the key to the cuffs or take out the gag- the human's smooth talking charm has saved his throat if not his ass on many occasions in his dealings with half-starved vampires. He's waiting for the guy to say something, clear his throat, cough, anything. Oh god. He hopes it's not one of the ghouls- the occasional off-shoots that result in basic animal instincts in a vampiric body. He's so wound up that when cold fingertips brush his shoulder he flinches away with such violence that he nearly falls off the table. His legs slip off the steel edge and for half a second he flails, suspended by the wrist shackles. Almost immediately he feels the chilly hands grabbing his leg and hip, pulling him back up in a careful, almost gentle grip. That tells him that at the very least it's not a ghoul, and he can't help relaxing slightly, almost leaning into the touch.
"I'm... sorry," a hoarse, accented voice murmurs over his shoulder, rusty from disuse and thirst. It's so unexpected that Scud jerks his head toward the source of the sound, his cheek brushing along the stranger's. This time it's the stranger who flinches away, like he thinks Scud is gonna bite him.
The human shakes his head, trying to communicate a dozen things at once: I'm not trying to do anything, Please don't kill me, Take out the damn gag...
The last mumbled litany seems to get through, because after a moment he feels thin fingers prying the cloth from his mouth. He coughs, swallows a few times, trying to bring some moisture back to his throat, and hesitantly begins, "It's... it's okay."
The hands on his hip and leg haven't moved, and he holds out some hope that maybe he can distract this guy from feeding. He begins to subtly shift, rolling his pelvis, and hears a sharp intake of breath. The hands clench slightly, then loosen, on the verge of being withdrawn.
"It's alright," Scud soothes. "You can touch me."
"I don't..." The stranger's voice takes on a sharper quality, lower, dangerous- the hunger is starting to take over. "I can't-"
"Really," the blindfolded man says quietly, desperate to keep him focused. "I can- I can make it really good, man, I can-" The grip on his thigh contracts painfully, and he can feel tremors shooting down the creature's arms. He scoots backward on the table as far as the restraints allow until his back comes into contact with the hard, smooth expanse of the man's chest and hears him draw another shuddering breath. Straining his neck backward, Scud turns his head and noses his way up the stranger's neck, trails gentle nips along his jawline. The hands move up his body, almost involuntarily, rough finger pads stroking cautiously over the web of scars that patchwork the human's chest. Scud freezes for a second, worried- his scars have always been something of a turn-off for the vampires; they find imperfection repulsive and have reminded him of this many times, leaving him with black eyes and a sore body. He feels the man shift away and around him, coming to stand in front of the table, fingers tracing up and down his torso.
"Scars..." The unknown vampire's voice comes from somewhere around the familiar's bellybutton, breath ghosting over his abs, and Scud shivers.
"Yeah, they, uh... if you don't- I mean... I can lie on my stomach or something; you won't see them, I can just-" He is cut off suddenly by the one sensation he's completely unprepared for: the brush of lips over his scars, soft and careful, mapping every line, and if it were any other situation Scud would call it tender. He's speechless and defenseless and has no idea how to deal with the slow, sensual feeling of this unseen being kissing along such sensitive, untouched skin. A low moan slips out when the stranger's fingers begin to follow his mouth, and with a jolt of surprise the human realizes that he's begun to rise.
The fact that he's so aroused from the lightest of touches is surprising in and of itself, and when the mouth on his stomach suddenly descends and swallows him he's so shocked that he lets out a strangled howl, the sound bouncing wildly off the walls, his hips pushing forward automatically. "Oh god- oh god, that's-" He bites his lip, stifling the babble that rises to his throat. A continuous whine fills the room, and it takes a moment for Scud to register that it's coming from him. The vampire's tongue is doing impossible, unspeakable things and the familiar is writhing helplessly, making sounds he didn't know he could make, and with the blindfold on it feels like his entire world has disappeared. It's like he's in a deprivation chamber; the only sensations are that mouth, those hands, the rhythm of breath against his belly. There's something strange about the feel and shape of said mouth, but he can't quite focus enough to tell what. He tenses, his back arching, his orgasm coming at him like a bolt of lightning.
"Oh fuck- fuck, wait, I-I'm gonna aaah!" His hips roll, thrusting erratically, coming harder than he's ever done before. The throat around him contracts, swallowing easily, rough tongue swiping up his length once more before pulling away. Scud hangs bonelessly by his wrists, feeling like his veins are full of warm syrup. He tries to form words, but all he can manage is a string of insensible noises with the occasional "fuck..." or "oh my god..." thrown in.
"Are... are you alright?" The stranger's voice is hesitant, and his hands slide searchingly over the currently brain-dead man's abdomen, apparently under the impression that he's done something wrong, that he's hurt Scud somehow.
"Am I alright?" The human repeats when his brain finally catches up. "Seriously? I'm... god, I'm so alright, man. That was... I don't even..." He lets his head fall forward, resting against the cool skin of the vampire's shoulder, kissing the spot where it meets his neck. Strong, lean arms wind, unsure, around his waist. After a few moments, Scud pulls back, the fabric of the blindfold brushing the other man's chin. "You're not shaking anymore," he notes.
The unknown being coughs. "No, I think the... fluid- I mean, when- ah- it- the uh, pain, the hunger is... it's not gone, but it's... lessened."
"Maybe the salt content," the familiar quips, chuckling weakly.
There's a huff of what might be laughter, and the quick swipe of fingers down the human's back.
"Are- are you-" Scud clears his throat, wishing for the millionth time today that his hands were free. "Do you need...?"
Silence. That's a yes, Scud thinks, and he inches forward on his knees. "You can... I don't mind, I mean, it's," he forces a laugh, "It's what I'm here for."
For some reason, that makes the vampire flinch and pull away. "No," his voice is low, hoarse again. "No, I don't..."
"Please," the chained man says softly, "It's really okay. I want you to..." He's said it dozens of times before; the Pack has trained him well in the art of pleasing others, but he's surprised by how strongly he means it this time. He has no idea who or even exactly what this man, this creature, is, but he's never wanted someone so much in his life.
He feels the displacement of air as the starving man steps back, then hears a low thud as he climbs up onto the table behind Scud. A thrill of excitement and fear goes up his spine, and he spreads his legs as far as possible without slipping off the surface once more. A slow breath gusts over the back of his neck, and he can sense the vampire holding himself back.
"I'm sorry," the gravelly voice says again, hands taking hold of the familiar's hips.
"Do it," Scud encourages, apprehensive but not entirely unfamiliar with the lack of any decent lubrication. He hears spitting, senses a weight settling between his legs, braces himself...
But instead of the sharp burn of intrusion, he feels the slick length pressed under his own, sliding between his buttocks. It's an alien sensation, but not unpleasant- weirdly erotic, in fact; the sort of not-quite-penetration, the vampire's member pressing against him, sending dull shockwaves of pleasure through him and making him buck against the other man. His partner moans, grip tightening on Scud's hips, and draws closer, chest-to-back. His mouth travels across the human's shoulders, placing open kisses on the knob of vertebra between them, then up to latch onto the pulse point at the juncture of the blindfolded man's throat.
Scud freezes once more, feeling the slight scrape of teeth and rough tongue over the artery in his neck. His pulse speeds against his will, and the vampire growls low in his throat, sending vibrations through the thin skin under his mouth. The tense familiar stays as still as possible and waits, once more, for the bite.
The bite, however, doesn't come. The thrusts continue, sliding and grinding, and after a few minutes Scud can't help it; he rolls his hips once more, groaning, his mouth falling open as his breath comes in short gasps and hitched panting. The jaws at his throat clench, and for a second it feels like the lower jaw splits, but then it's gone, the mouth withdrawn as a raspy cry tears loose. Scud shivers, the muscles in his legs taut as he feels a spatter of moisture hit his thighs.
The vampire moans once more, low and muffled, and pulls away, his hands and chest warm from the human's body heat. His fingers glide along Scud's arms, his shoulders, trailing up his neck and coming to rest at the edge of the blindfold.
The familiar pushes his cheek into the other man's palm, urging him to take the cloth away, but the stranger pauses again. "I'm... I'm not..."
"Please, I wanna see you," Scud persists. "Please."
The slim fingertips slip under the hem, pulling upward-
-and the door slams open once more.
"You fellas have fun?" Reinhardt booms, and immediately the stranger snarls, the sharp click of teeth making Scud jump. The Blood Pack leader responds with the click-click of a gun being cocked, and the human's blood goes cold as he feels the hard muzzle pressed to his temple. "Now don't make this difficult, sweetheart," the sadistic vamp says to the unidentified being. "This little peashooter may not do jack to you, but it will most definitely splatter poor defenseless Scud's brains all over the place. And since you managed not to take a chomp of his neck this whole time, it'd be a real shame to get him snuffed now, huh?" The steel is pushed bruisingly against the familiar's skull, and he bites back a yelp of pain.
The stranger slips off the table, hissing venomously, and Scud feels his fingertips trace a good bye down his cheek. A moment later the door swings shut and he is gone, and Scud has to bite his lip to keep the hollow, soul-weary scream from wrenching free.
~()~
Next chapter (it's a two-parter) up soon. Review and such!