Bilbo was happy to feel the crisp night air on his face after a long meeting with his editor. She picked apart his piece about his experience in India like a vulture to a carcass and it left him exhausted and more than a little frustrated. The wind combed through his blonde curls and stung his eyes enough to make them water but the feeling was no less welcome.
He pulled his thick, red coat tighter around himself as he walked through the streets on his way home to his flat. The streetlamps that lined the sidewalks were bright but seemed few and far between when he ambled through the thick, heavy darkness. The street was oddly abandoned and silent save for the sound of his boots hitting the ground. It caused his flesh to freeze over as thousands of little bumps stood at attention.
A feeling of unease and self-awareness crept over him as he picked up his pace. He shoved his hands into his pockets and swallowed hard, his saliva sticking uncomfortably in his throat. Each breath caused a puff of smoke as it mingled through the air but he didn't stop to appreciate the beauty of it. He could feel eyes from all directions boring into him, causing him to keep looking over his shoulder as he made a beeline for his flat.
A sigh of relief caused a stream of smoke like a snorting dragon as his building appeared in his line of sight. He visibly relaxed his posture and even a smile started to ghost across his face when something slammed into his side, swiping him as it flew past. Bilbo lurched forward, stumbling to try to stay standing as the dark form that hit him reappeared in front of him. He reached out his hands to catch himself on the pavement when another pair of hands caught his.
His balance was immediately restored as all of his weight rested on this other person. He found his feet again and stood up straight but the tall man before him still held his hands as if he thought Bilbo would fall at any moment. He wore a black leather jacket over a white shirt and dark jeans at least one size too big. Bilbo's eyes moved up to the other man's face and he felt instantly mesmerized. His pale skin was flawless, his hair dark, short, and well styled. His eyes were a deep, polished blue and he wore a kind, approachable grin, flashing a set of teeth that would make a dentist sick with envy.
"Er, hi?" Bilbo managed to sputter out in his awe and confusion.
"Forgive me, sir," he said, his voice deep and rich like a dark melody. He looked down at their hands clasped together and let go. Bilbo almost didn't want to. "I've carelessly run into you. I hope you're unhurt."
"I'm, uh, I'm fine. But thank you. I probably would've ended up with scraped up hands if not for you," Bilbo said, feebly holding up the palms of his hands with a short, nervous laugh.
The man reached up and held one of Bilbo's hands, stroking his palm with his thumb before looking down at him with a subtly seductive smile. "Well, we certainly wouldn't want that."
A second nervous laugh bubbled up from his throat. "No, right. Course not." The man dropped Bilbo's hand, leaving a tingling sensation where his fingertips trailed over his flesh. "Uh, oh, sorry. Where are my manners? My name is Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Bilbo. You can call me Thorin," he said, a hard-set expression on his face that said he wasn't going to continue.
"Good to meet you, Thorin," Bilbo said, tearing his eyes away from his face to look at his building behind him.
Thorin's eyes followed Bilbo's for a fraction of a second, and Bilbo's mind started to clear for that fraction, but it was unnoticeable as Thorin quickly turned all of his focus back on Bilbo.
"I apologize," he said, pressing a hand to his heart in a show of sincerity. "You must've been on your way home."
Bilbo smiled but it wavered slightly. "Yes, actually. So, thanks again, but I should go."
He stepped forward but Thorin was blocking his way again. Bilbo's heart leapt. He never saw him move.
"Perhaps I could walk you, as a way of apologizing," Thorin suggested, eyebrows raised in question.
"Er, thank you but it's quite all right. My building is just there," he said pointing behind him.
Thorin turned, picking out where he was pointing to, and turned back to Bilbo, wearing a grin reminiscent of a hungry wolf. "Then I guess I'll take my leave. It was good running into you, Mr. Baggins."
Thorin walked past Bilbo with one final glance but when Bilbo turned to respond, he wasn't there. The street was completely empty as if no one but him had ever been there. His jaw hung in bemusement as he turned to look in every direction, wondering if there were some shortcut around he didn't know about. After a minute, he gave up and slumped his shoulders, staring into the dark nothing.
"Yeah, you too," he said to no one but the stars and moon above him.
He felt as though a strange fog he was previously unaware of lifted from his mind. His thoughts came in more clearly like finding a good station in a sea of static. The feeling of unease that once rested on his shoulders was gone, allowing him to walk the last stretch of street to his flat in relative comfort.
It was a relief to open the door of his flat and lock it behind him. The white walls were mostly bare save for a few pieces of art and maps he'd collected in his travels. Just about everything was covered in a thick layer of dust with the exception of his computer, desk, and bed. Bilbo flicked on the lights in the living area, dropped his keys on the small, round table just inside the door, and shrugged out of his jacket, leaving it on a bare wooden coatrack that looked like a leafless tree.
On his way to his bedroom, Bilbo pulled off his tie and unbuttoned his white dress shirt. He left the tie on his work desk just inside his room and pulled off the shirt, about to discard it on the floor when he noticed a tear on the left arm. His brow creased as he picked at the frayed slice in the fabric. The edges were a dark red and a little damp. He checked his arm, twisting it into an awkward position until he could see a splash of blood in the weak lamp light.
"Ugh," he groaned in irritation as he daubed at the blood with his right hand. It shimmered on his fingertips, making him feel almost nauseous at the sight. "Must've happened when Thorin ran into me."
He pushed the sick feeling away and cleaned off the blood in his small, white tiled bathroom before applying a bandage. The day was starting to catch up with him as a yawn wracked his body. After switching off the lights, he didn't have far to walk to his bed where he cast his shoes, socks, and trousers onto the floor. His warm bed was very welcoming, opening its arms to him when he pulled back the covers and crawled into its soft embrace. Sleep stole him away soon after but he found the odd Thorin on his mind just before he dropped away into his dreams.
And what dreams they were. The image in his head was like that of a poor satellite connection and it felt heavy on his brain. His body in the dream was hard to move, next to impossible, as he stood on the same sidewalk as earlier that night. He was alone, none of the streetlamps were on, and he couldn't lift his feet to move anywhere. The building his flat was in stood tall in his line of sight, taunting him with safety he couldn't reach.
He tried to swallow his fear but his mouth felt like it was full of cotton. All of his effort was going into trying to move his legs when he felt a pair of hands slide around his waist. Bilbo froze, stopping all attempts at movement as the unknown hands fingered the hem of his shirt, brushing against the skin just above his trousers. Breath, hot on his neck, sent shivers up his spine. He guessed who it was before he turned Bilbo to face him, his immovable body at his mercy.
He looked up into the handsome face of Thorin, staring down at him with the black eyes of a hungry predator. One of his hands trailed up to Bilbo's face, stroking his cheek until his fingers came to rest under his chin, gently tipping his head upward to make it easier for their lips to meet. Thorin leaned down and pressed his soft lips to Bilbo's, leaving a sweet taste of everything he could have.
The kiss was short, teasing, frustrating. He flashed a grin at Bilbo as he pulled away, relishing his torment. He infected him with the same hunger with that one kiss. Bilbo's eyes dilated, his palms were sweating, he wanted more but he couldn't move. Thorin knew and he toyed with Bilbo, brushing his lips along his jawline, flicking out his tongue like a snake to taste the salt and flesh. Bilbo trembled under him, a pathetic whimper seconds from escaping through parted lips. Thorin teased the whimper out of him, carefully placed touches from a hand under his white dress shirt, and it was like a trigger to him.
Thorin slammed Bilbo into the nearest wall and grabbed his face, leaning down into deep, starved kisses. His hands moved down to Bilbo's shirt, tearing it open, raining buttons on the ground. His hands ran over his chest, his abdomen, settling at his waist as he pulled down on Bilbo's tan trousers. They crumpled in a pool around his ankles after some effort, exposing his boxers, as Thorin's hands followed down with them. Bilbo gasped, biting the inside of his cheek, when a loud beeping sound broke his dream apart.
Bilbo opened his eyes to blinding sunlight and sweat-soaked sheets. It took him a moment to realize he was awake and needed to move. When he did, he stripped his covers away from him and headed straight to his bathroom for a quick, cold shower. It served as a shocking wakeup call as the chilly liquid ran down his head and over his back and chest. His body shook reflexively but he cooled down from his heated dream.
He wasn't sure where that dream spurned from. Those sort of thoughts rarely crept into his mind and they'd never been about men, but it wasn't unwelcome. All he knew for certain was that Thorin really left an impression on him.
Once his shoulders started to go numb, he turned off the water and grabbed the towel on the rack just outside the shower. His wet curls stuck to his head and the towel around his waist threatened to fall as he cleaned up the dirty clothes he left lying around the night before. He kept one hand on the red cloth to hold it up while he put the clothes away and pulled out new ones.
He dressed quickly, pulling on a pair of black trousers and a blue dress shirt. He was doomed to another meeting with the company that employed him and needed to look his best as he suffered. After he pulled on his boots and slightly torn red jacket, he was out the door and on his way to work.
The day was long and passed by slowly. Each minute felt like an hour and each hour like a day. Bilbo's thoughts were elsewhere, back on that street in the middle of the night, and his worked reflected that. When the day was through, he felt ashamed to send off what he'd done but he had no choice. All he could do was throw on his jacket and leave as fast as possible to escape the indignity.
He felt both hesitant and excited about walking home. His heart pounded against his ribs at the thought of running into Thorin again, though he knew logically that it was unlikely. In a city as big and busy as the one he lived in? It wouldn't happen unless he actively searched for him. And Bilbo held onto that hope, though he would never admit it.
The night seemed colder than the one before but there were a lot more people, all on their way home or just leaving them for a long night out. He pulled his coat tightly around himself but air leaked through the rip on his left sleeve. He shook from the chills but ignored it and pressed on.
The closer he walked toward his flat, the less hope he harbored. The amount of people on the dark streets waned while the moon rose higher. Bilbo kicked at stones as he walked, allowing the sound of them skipping across the pavement to disrupt the quiet. It occupied his mind from the growing disappointment.
After a few minutes of kicking the same rock around, he started to feel uneasy, just as he had the night before. He felt someone watching his every movement, hunting him. Bilbo stopped abruptly and looked around. All he could see was a thick sea of black with patches of blinding light, illuminating nothing but what small area it touched.
"Thorin?" Bilbo called out, straining his ears to hear the slightest noise in response.
"You remembered my name," said a voice at Bilbo's right ear.
He jumped, his heart beating so hard his chest ached, and turned to see Thorin towering over him. He wore the same leather jacket with a black button-down underneath.
"I remembered yours too. Bilbo Baggins," he said with a sly smile.
"Were you waiting here for me?" he asked, unsure if he should feel afraid or flattered.
Thorin shrugged. "I just happen to walk the same path home."
He started to walk forward and Bilbo absentmindedly followed him. "Where do you live?"
"Nearby," he said, looking everywhere but at Bilbo.
Bilbo frowned, staring down at his feet. "Is that it? Nearby?"
"Why do you want to know so much?" Thorin asked, glancing down at him.
He shrugged. "Curiosity."
"Well, you know what they say about curiosity."
"It killed the cat?"
Thorin laughed. "There certainly was some killing, yes."
Bilbo looked up at Thorin questioningly but he didn't bother to explain himself. He sighed yet he kept following after the enigma of a man anyway despite all of the frustration he was causing him. Bilbo trailed a little behind Thorin, as the taller man had longer legs and took greater strides. After a few minutes, he was starting to tire and sweat while Thorin looked like he could walk mile upon mile without feeling the slightest bit exhausted. He had to admit, he was a little jealous.
"Where are you leading me?" Bilbo asked, realizing he hadn't exactly been paying attention to their route.
"I'm walking you home. I'm in no rush to go back to my own," he explained as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
"You—er. You remember where I live?"
"You did point it out to me," he said, stopping in his tracks, catching Bilbo off-guard. "That's it there, isn't it?"
He pointed to a tall, wooden building just across the street from there they stood. He looked at Bilbo expectantly, waiting for a confirmation that he was right.
"Yeah, that's the one…"
Bilbo's mind started screaming at him, throwing up neon signs warning of danger, but as Bilbo stared into Thorin's eyes, that all turned into white noise. Any independent thought he had melted away, leaving his brain silent. At least until another voice started to influence his actions.
"Would you like to come upstairs?" Bilbo asked, eyes dilated and vacant.
"I'd love to," Thorin said with a smile, extending his arm in invitation for Bilbo to walk ahead of him. "In fact, I have a business proposal I'd like to discuss."
Bilbo walked forward, opening the front door with Thorin on his heels. "Business?"
"I'll go into more detail once we get to your place," he purred in Bilbo's ear, urging him forward.
They marched up a few floors until they reached Bilbo's. He approached his door and fumbled with the keys in his pocket, prompting Thorin to take them from him and unlock the door from over Bilbo's shoulder. He nudged Bilbo inside and locked the door behind the both of them before turning to face the zombie-like man. However, Thorin's hold on him was starting to fade.
He blinked hard, trying to fight through the fog, trying to remember what his instincts had been warning him about. It was like a buzzing at the back of his mind: annoying, persistent, and enough to rise above his clouded thoughts. He rubbed his eyes like rubbing away sleep as if he thought that might help. He looked up at Thorin with a puzzled expression.
"You said something about business? A business proposal?"
Thorin sauntered toward him. "Well, it's less of a proposal and more of a demand."
"What do you mean?" he said, rubbing his eyes once more.
"I mean, Mr. Baggins," he said stopping before him and grabbing a hold of Bilbo's jacket lapels, "that when I want something, I tend to simply take it."
Bilbo swallowed hard and looked up at Thorin's face even though the buzz in his brain was fighting against it. His eyes were completely black and his wide grin showed off a pair of sharp fangs in place of his canines. Anything Bilbo might've said evaporated, replaced only with mind-numbing fear. Without waiting for any sort of reaction from him, Thorin ripped away Bilbo's jacket and entangled a hand in his blonde curls so he could pull his head to the side.
"Wh-why are you doing this?" Bilbo sputtered, helpless in his impossibly strong grip.
Thorin laughed, a deep, dark rumble in his chest. "Because I like you, Bilbo. I'll think you'll be of use to me."
Before his mind could register what was happening, Thorin sunk his teeth into Bilbo's neck, drinking deeply from the vein. The pain was sharp and ran through him like an electric shock but it slowly became euphoric. He could feel his own warm blood running down his neck, his chest, surely staining his shirt. He fell limp in Thorin's arms and Thorin cradled him carefully, like a child. A wave of light-headedness swept over him. He felt dizzy. And tired. So tired.
He closed his eyes as Thorin continued to feed, feeling at ease and ready to sleep for a long, long time. Unconsciousness stole him away a few seconds later, delving into blackness fully believing he'd never open his eyes again.
Whether it was minutes or hours or days later, Bilbo suddenly became aware that he was, in fact, awake. The realization was somewhat of a shock for him due to how certain he'd been that he was going to die. He moved his hands first; they felt stiff from staying in one position for so long. As he moved the rest of his body, he discovered that every muscle felt in the same unused state. It didn't take long to work out the stiffness, however, which came as a pleasant surprise.
He sat up and opened his eyes to a pitch black room, unable to see anything until, for some reason, he could. His eyes adjusted quickly and he was looking through the night like anyone would in the day. He stole a sharp intake of breath and his lungs screamed in protest, causing him to double over. He felt scared to try and breathe after that but after a few seconds of holding his breath, he realized his didn't feel the pressing need for it. There was no panic for survival, no strain in his chest. He didn't need to breathe.
"What's going on," he whispered to himself as he surveyed the area.
He looked down to see that he was sitting on a metal table, not unlike the ones he'd seen before in hospitals, and both he and the table were in a room with no windows. Bilbo stood up to investigate further when the only door in the room opened with a deafening creak. He covered his ears to protect them as he watched for who might walk through. It was almost unsurprising to him to see Thorin amble in.
His jacket was gone but Bilbo could see blood splashed down the front of his black shirt. Bilbo's own blood. Thorin smiled warmly as if he were greeting an old friend.
"How are you feeling?" he said, coming to a stop a few feet away from Bilbo.
"I don't know. I'm not even sure what's going on," he replied, lowering his hands from his ears.
"Don't worry about the noise, you get used to it over time."
Bilbo's hands curled into fists. "Stop avoiding my questions. What did you do to me?"
"I made you like me, Bilbo," he said matter-of-factly as if it cleared everything up.
"Like you?"
Thorin rolled his eyes. "A vampire. The undead. A child of the night. Whatever horrid description you want to use."
Bilbo looked down at his hands. They looked significantly paler in spite of the tan he'd received during his travels. "Why?"
Thorin sat down on the metal table. "I told you before. Business." He looked Bilbo up and down and fought back a smile. "And maybe a little pleasure."
Bilbo would've flushed if his blood had still been pumping. "What business?" he nearly growled.
"Allow me to show you."
Thorin slid from the table and glided around Bilbo to the door, beckoning him along. Bilbo reluctantly walked forward, guarding his ears as Thorin opened the door. He walked through to see a crowd of people, of vampires, sitting around as they talked and laughed. They were of all different ages, some older, some young, most about Thorin's own age based on appearance alone. As soon as Bilbo walked into view, they stopped and looked up at him. Soundlessly, Thorin appeared at his side with his hand on the small of Bilbo's back.
"Boys, this is Bilbo Baggins, our final addition. Bilbo," he said, looking down at him before sweeping his hand over all of the twelve vampires, "welcome to my company."