This is an AU H/K, set in NYC. Rated 'R' for limes, probable lemons, violence, excessive amounts of blood, swearing and heavy dark undertones. This is not a happy fic. At least, not now, we'll see how long that lasts . . . This is a vampire fic, so if you don't have the stomach, or don't like the concept, please do not read. This is also a very slashy fic, meaning male/male relationships, again, if you don't have the stomach or don't like the concept, don't read. I want no flames for this one, I'm very proud of it, and believe it is my best work to date.
Standard disclaimers apply to every chapter, I don't own YYH, or any brand products or songs. Original characters are mine though, and any similarities they have with real names are purely coincidental, and the characters have not been based on the person they happen to share a name with.
I hate this lawyer business. I won't do it again, so rest easy friends. - On with the fic. (BTW, this is the prologue, so it's only a page long. - I'll post chapter one too, I promise!)
Thicker Than Water
A scream echoed through the still night, slicing through the silence as a knife through flesh.
Sultry lips curled into a smile of pleasure as he reveled in the fear that oozed from his victim, red eyes glowing in the darkness, paralyzing the woman lying at his feet.
He was thirsty. Oh, so thirsty.
Where would he do it? The wrist was most convenient, but then the taste would be dull, almost to the point of sourness. The throat was more traditional, and the sweetest. But the blood would flow so fast and strong that he would miss some.
Didn't matter. Humans had plenty of blood.
And he was thirsty. So thirsty . . .
He bent low, pressing his mouth to the smooth skin of her neck. Fangs flashed an unearthly white, reflecting the sickly moon above them, another scream cutting through the air. Ah, but that was the glory of the city. No one heard, and if they did, no one cared.
Thirsty . . .
Blood rushed past his lips, down his throat. The thick, sweet liquid flooded his senses, sending him into a frenzy of lust and need. After the briefest of eternities, the pulse began to slow, the tide of crimson ebbing, and he began to suck greedily, trying to retain every last drop.
His face lifted to the sky, the moon throwing his features into an eerie, corpse-like pallor. Blood trickled down his chin, shining blackly in the shadows. A delicate, long-boned hand reached up and wiped the scarlet liquid off, his tongue snaking out to lick it sensually away like some great, twisted feline.
Blood lust. It was back. Now he wished he hadn't drained the girl entirely, if only for his amusement. Oh but never would he have changed her. She was too weak, the dark gift would have killed her more certainly than his draining her. But he could have had some fun with her first.
He would have cursed his thoughtlessness, but it was no use crying over spilled milk. Or, rather, blood. His urge to feed had been greater than his lust, and it had been well worth it.
The thirst had abated; there was no more need for nourishment. For now.