Disclaimer: I can dream all I want, but it will never be mine. And that makes me sad inside. Though, maybe it's for the best that I don't own Blade or affiliated characters.
"Hunger, Thy Name is Blade"
By: Yoru
Drake was intrigued for the first time since his rude reawakening. In fact, he was intrigued for the first time in such a very long time. This intrigue elicited a hunger, and this hunger became Blade.
Blade. The Daywalker. A vampire-human hybrid. A powerhouse to be reckoned with. One who lived by the sword, who fought with ferocity and honor. One very similar to himself.
It didn't hurt that Blade had an erotically animalistic sex appeal. Yes, Drake knew art when he saw it, and Blade was a masterpiece.
So when he first encountered Blade and his sidekicks, he was instantly attracted. Something in Blade screamed his name even as his expression remained unimpressed and his posture prepared for a fight.
On that rooftop, it had been endearing—in a twisted sort of way—how he had been able to tame Blade with the threat of harming an innocent child. That only served to further pique his interest and feed his hunger.
He had to have Blade. Any way possible and preferably some time within the very near present.
So when he ran into Blade as they both approached the same club, he was equal parts surprised and delighted. Who said fate didn't exist? He didn't believe in god—upper or lower case—but he knew something was at work. There existed some order and turned some wheel that plotted a course to some destination.
And wasn't it the strangest thing that they were both headed to a club, of all places? Both dressed for a night on the town? It was distracting to see Blade without his leather trench coat, his leather pants clinging in all the right places, a burgundy shirt pulled tantalizingly across chocolate skin and firm muscle. Vaguely, he wondered if Blade was armed. And if he was, where was he hiding it?
When Blade flashed him a feral grin, he started, his pants tightened a fraction, and he decided that Blade was drunk or in some way intoxicated. Drake just wished that Blade had left his sunglasses with his trench coat. Shame to hide such a striking feature.
And oh mercy, how he danced! Drake knew, just knew, that he had to be dreaming. Blade would never dance and most certainly not like that, quite indecent and utterly arousing. If Drake had been a firm believer, he would have dropped to his knees and thanked whatever deities were listening for this moment.
Those Nightsalkers must be rubbing off on him, Drake decided. Especially that sarcastic brunet with his quick charm and cutting satire. Drake felt a pang of something—something akin to jealously, maybe possessiveness?—run through his frame at that thought and the various, though not too unpleasant, images that accompanied it.
As appealing as that particular notion was, Drake wanted Blade all to himself, wanted the whole of Blade. He wanted Blade's skin and grin, his tight body and full lips, his honey-colored eyes and mixed blood, his mind and his soul.
Drake wanted to possess Blade, mark him and make that arctic inferno all his own. And (god) save anyone who decided to get in his way.
Then, he was dancing with Blade, hands sliding over that smooth skin and taut muscles, gliding over swinging hips and gripping leather-clad, pert globes of flesh.
Oh yes, he was most definitely dreaming. Reality would never be this good to him.
And Blade's lips crept closer to his own and he frowned when they weren't so full, so plump, as soft as he'd imagined.
His eyes flew open, flashing honey then amber then red and back. Danica hit the wall with a very audible thud, a small crater formed in the wall as her body crumpled to the floor. Bits of the wall rained briefly on her head and blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.
And Drake was so hard it hurt and so completely unsatisfied and hollow inside and that hurt even worse.
TBC?
A/N: Possible continuation. Depends on any reviews I get.
P.S. I watched Blade: Trinity today and the more I watch it, the more the whole Drake/Blade dynamic grows on me. I have yet to read Drake/Blade, so I decided to write my own.