Disclaimer: I don't own Vlad... unfortunately... *wistful sigh*
A/N: Vlad one-shot. I'm only using Vlad's character, I'm not following the plotline of the tv show. Written from the POV of the reader, or whoever you want (not any specific character).
This is my first fanfic, I write in my free time but have never had the guts to ever upload. So... enjoy! :)
It was snowing. My first winter as a half-fang. The gleaming landscape spread out before me as I stood on the castle balcony at night. My fledgling vampire abilities meant that instead of not being able to see when it was night, the dark painted the world in interesting, rich and deep colours. I flitted down to the snow and immediately sank smoothly into a crouch to trail my fingers in the snow, making patterns and setting my inner artist free. I wandered aimlessly, basking in the fresh, bright white light that the snow reflected onto everything, and marvelling at how the ice crystals did not melt on my cool half-fang skin, and how the brush of the icy and biting Siroccan wind felt like the whispering of warm feathers over my skin. It occurred to me that I could stay out here forever without ever getting cold or hungry, and I flung my arms out over my head as if to embrace the very air and slate-grey snow clouds overhead.
Suddenly a pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist, and a familiar scent enfolded me; Vlad. I sighed with pleasure as he tenderly kissed the spot on my neck where the bite mark – his bite mark – was still faintly visible from when he turned me. I trembled, not from cold, but from the way that he brushed his lips so maddeningly chastely down my neck.
"Well hello to you too, Vlad," I grinned, and in one swift and sudden movement I whirled around to face him, and placed my small hands delicately on either side of his face, bringing my lips close to his, but suspending us half an inch apart. He gasped, and I pushed him over with a small nudge of my feet in the snow; as we fell together our lips touched for a brief moment, and then we landed and broke apart, laughing and gasping in the snow. I rolled off him and we lay facing each other, hidden from the world in our small indented cove in the snow. The dark brought out the midnight blue in his eyes.
"I love you." He whispered tenderly, his breath brushing the loose snowflakes, making them swirl like the butterflies in my stomach. We both leaned in slowly as though being gradually pulled together by a magnet, or gently tugged to the centre of a black hole; it was so inexorable and inevitable that our lips and bodies would collide again. I could feel his ragged and uneven breath on my lips as we neared each other, and he put his hand on the small of my back to pull me close as our darkened eyes closed.
Our lips met.
Do I have to describe the thrill? Of tasting him, holding him, feeling him. Being with him is so easy and exciting and effortlessly enjoyable that all the superlatives in the universe could not begin to summarize.
Only then did I truly understand what was missing from the previous snowy scene without him: it was missing someone special to share it with.
I could have stayed right there in the snow and in his arms, and I would have wanted nothing more for the rest of eternity.