Title: In Love with Easeful Death
One-shot
Summary: Adam hates it when Ian drags him out of the house but this time he meets an interesting woman that makes the night worthwhile.
Character: Adam and nameless OFC
Genre: Smut
Rating: Mature. NSFW. For fingering, sex, blood/vampire feeding, language
A/N: This is my favorite thing I've ever written. Adam's mind is beautiful. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoy writing. Feedback is always appreciated. PS: Adam is dead so he doesn't worry about protection. You're alive which means you can get pregnant/STD's. Cover that shit up!
"Ian, no one gets coffee at three in the morning." Adam's voice is low and uninterested. He's not sure why he allowed Ian to drag him out tonight. The club had been loud and not in the good way. His ears were still ringing from whatever noise was playing over the speakers. It certainly couldn't be called music. It sounded like someone banging on a garbage dumpster. In fact, one of the band members had been playing a metal trash can with drum sticks, Adam recalled.
Ian shrugged. "Come on, man. I need a caffeine fix or I'll never make it home." Ian motioned him inside a hole-in-the-wall, twenty-four-hour diner. It used to be nothing more than a dark alley way. Adam remembered but he doubted anyone else did. The interior was harshly lit with fluorescent lighting. He was glad for the protection his dark glasses provided. Smoking in public businesses had been banned in Detroit for years, but Adam still detected the acrid scent of stale smoke underneath the fumes of grease and burnt food. It was both familiar and comfortable.
Ian slid into a worn corner booth and Adam took the seat across from him. The tabletop sported a variety of nicks and discolorations. He absently ran his finger over a crack and wondered how long it had been there and how it came to exist in the first place.
Ian talked about nothing as he was want to do. Adam slumped down low in the seat and let Ian's words fall over him apathetically.
"Hey, man, you gettin' anything?" Ian asked a moment later.
Adam noticed the waitress out of the corner of his eye. He sighed and stopped fingering the marks on the table. "Coffee. Black." He wouldn't drink it but he liked to watch the steam coil up from the liquid. It reminded him of smoke stacks and steam engines and change. The waitress walked away. Ian was talking again.
When she returned with their coffee, she sat Ian's down first and followed with his. Adam stared at the thin curve of her wrist. His gaze traced the blue veins beneath her skin and he imagined the blood coursing through them. He turned his head in her direction to nod his thanks, but the gesture was lost when he saw her face.
Though she was beautiful, it wasn't her beauty that caught his attention; it was her eyes. They were the color of the sky before dawn breaks, rich iridescent blue fading to soft amber before the dark of her pupils. They shone with wisdom yet still managed to be inquisitive and innocent. If they had been a story, he'd want to read it.
She was staring at him now and it twisted his stomach into knots. Never outside of Eve had he felt the sensation. Her brow furrowed and she regarded him curiously. Her full lips parted once, twice, as if she had something to say but didn't know how. Ian was talking to her but she didn't notice. Her hands reached out and gently took off Adam's glasses. He could have stopped her but he didn't. She searched his eyes which he knew were red-rimmed and disconcerting. Even so, she never looked away.
Finally, she spoke."Darkling I listen; and, for a time I have been half in love with easeful Death." Her voice was like a fine aged vintage, rich and deep; the perfect complement to the poem's haunting rhythm. Keats. How he loved Keats.
"Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme, to take into the air my quiet breath," Adam replied before even realizing. A corner of her mouth lifted. It wasn't so much a smile as a gesture of knowing.
And even through all this, Ian was talking. Adam finally held up a hand in Ian's direction though he never broke eye contact with the waitress. "Ian, shut the fuck up," he muttered.
Adam pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and threw it on the table. He didn't count it. It could have been a thousand dollars for all he cared. "Coffee's on me," he said. "Find your own way home."
Adam unfolded himself from the booth onto long legs. He towered over the waitress. She barely rose to chest level. He lifted a glove covered hand to encircle her arm just above the elbow. "Come with me," he murmured, and she did, without question. He didn't spare Ian so much as a glance before leading her out of the restaurant and into the night.
Though still technically summer, the chill of approaching autumn permeated the warm air. Adam had no idea what he was doing with this woman. He wanted to sit and stare into her mysterious eyes for hours, to dance with her, to fuck her, to drink her, to play music for her. Eve would have told him this is what it felt like to live in the moment, something that had always come so easily for her though not so much for him. The whole idea made him dizzy.
They approached his car and Adam opened the passenger side door for her. As she was about to climb in, he lifted his arm to stop her. She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow curiously. "Why Keats?" he asked. He had to know.
He could see her mind working through her eyes. He liked that about her. She lifted a hand to his chest. His heartbeat should have been there but it wasn't. It hadn't been for a long, long time.
"Because you look like poetry sounds," she whispered.
It was the strangest and most beautiful compliment he'd ever received. His leather clad hands grabbed for her then, bringing her close. He pressed his lips to hers. She met him eagerly, wrapping her arms around his strong neck and leaning into him. He could feel her breath through the rhythm of their kiss, caressing his cold, dead skin. She was so alive and for the first time in many years, he yearned for some of that life. He became painfully aware of her pounding heartbeat. His covered hand rose to her neck; beneath the fabric he could feel her quickening pulse.
Adam groaned through the kiss as he realized this was bad idea. He pushed her away then, harder than he intended. She wasn't taken aback. She stared at him with those fucking incredible eyes. Part of him wanted to gouge them out. They were testing his limits, lowering his inhibitions, reminding him of things long forgotten that needed to stay gone.
"I know what you are," she said.
He scoffed and turned away from her, heading to his side of the car. "Yeah? Well, it's not hard to figure out. Jaded musician? Suicidal romantic? Fucking asshole? Pick one. Pick them all." He was done.
"Your skin is cold," she said. "Your eyes are dead." Adam looked up at her from across the top of the car. The yellow beams of the streetlamps blazed down on her like a spotlight, as if she were reciting the opening monologue for a theater production. She continued, "No breath. No heartbeat." Her tongue darted out across her bottom lip. "You taste like blood."
Fuck, Eve would love this girl. There was no sense in arguing. "Get in."
They drove in silence and it felt oddly comfortable. Every once in awhile, Adam would glance over to find her staring straight ahead. He examined her profile and wondered about her though he never asked any questions. He didn't want to know anything; not her name, not how she knew what he was, nothing.
Soon, Adam maneuvered the car into an overgrown driveway out in the suburbs. The yard was knee-level and higher in some spots. The building was in disrepair and looked abandoned from the street. Adam pulled the vehicle up behind the house where it would be obscured by growth and debris. He got out and didn't bother to help her. He knew she would follow.
He walked around to the front of the house and opened the door leading her inside. She took a moment to examine the room. It was filled to the brim with books, antiques, various odds and ends, all covered in a thick layer of dust. Then, her stare fell on the side of the room that housed a variety of his instruments. "Will you play for me?"
"Yes." Adam stood among his instruments. They were more alive than he was. He regarded his guest for a moment and thought about her in terms of music. Looking at her was like trying to grasp the melody of a song he could barely remember. For that reason, the violin called to him. He picked it up, handling it with the kind of care a parent shows to an infant child. He positioned the beautifully crafted instrument against his shoulder, lifted his chin high, and drew the bow across the strings. His long, slender fingers manipulated the notes. Music poured from him, simultaneously haunting and playful.
The waitress stared at him, entranced. She walked closer, stopping in front of him. Her lithe body swayed to the rhythm. She reached around to her back and untied the apron around her waist. It fell at her feet. Her hands were at the buttons of her uniform shirt, undoing each one in time with the music. Adam continued to play but his gaze was on her. He drew the bow and moved his fingers to produce a perfect high note just as she shrugged the top away to reveal her gorgeous breasts.
Adam dropped the violin. It fell to the floor with a dissonant clang. He dropped the needle onto the nearby record player and a symphony of baroque sound filled the room. He rushed to her and pulled her close, his leather gloves slid the length of her naked back. Her hands fingered the edge of his wrinkled t-shirt. She tugged it up and over his head. Her gaze hungrily examined his lean torso, lingering on the 'V' disappearing into his jeans. She grabbed his hands. "May I?" she asked.
Adam nodded and watched her remove the gloves. It shouldn't have been erotic, but it was. She tossed them to the floor before bringing his hands up to her breasts. Goosebumps rose to her flesh as his icy fingertips brushed against her nipples. They swelled under his touch and he forced back a moan. His existence was a lonely one when Eve was gone. He craved closeness but never acted on it, afraid of what he was capable of during the throes of passion. With Eve, he never had to worry about letting his true nature show.
"Do I scare you?" he asked, curiously. He continued to explore her breasts. He could feel his arousal growing. It was getting harder to stay in control.
"Not as much as I scare you, it seems," she responded. An uncharacteristic smile brightened his melancholy features though only for a second. She was perceptive, this one.
Her hands were at his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping his fly. She let her fingers lightly brush over his growing erection as she pulled them down. Adam sucked a breath through his teeth and swallowed hard. Before she could reveal him, he grabbed her wrist in a motion to stop. "I have loved deeply," he said. "More deeply than you will ever be able to understand in your lifetime. I am half of another and I cannot and never will be whole without her."
"That's not what I want."
"What do you want?" Adam asked.
She wrenched her wrist away from him grasp and removed his engorged cock. Already she was stroking his length. Her hand was so warm. Adam's resolve weakened. He had her pants down in no time and then he picked her up, moving them to the dusty, vintage couch. Adam sat first and she arranged herself to straddle his lap. Heat radiated from between her legs. He could feel it on his thighs where she sat. Her mouth was back on his this time more urgently. Her tongue pushed eagerly between his lips, searching for his. Her hand was back on his cock, stroking slowly in time to the music and their kissing.
Adam didn't notice when his fangs descended. She drew away from the kiss and when Adam opened his eyes, a thin line of blood trickled down her lip. She made no move to wipe it away. She wasn't scared, in fact, her eyes were ravenous. Adam's hands tangled in her hair and pulled her face back to his. His tongue lapped from her chin up to her bitten lip. When he got there, he sucked the wound hungrily, letting the metallic tang linger in his mouth before swallowing hard. Even with such a small amount, he immediately felt the effects. It was an odd sensation of satisfaction yet wanting to feast to bursting.
"Fuck..." he moaned. "You taste incredible." His erection throbbed with need.
She was panting heavily. She moved her hair over to one shoulder and placed her neck in front of his face. "Then don't stop."
Adam moaned long and loud. He knew this was a terrible idea but the line of her neck mesmerized him like a siren's song. He brought his lips down, tentatively at first. He inhaled her scent. She smelled of fading floral perfume and stale cigarettes with notes of coffee and lemon-scented cleaner. He wanted to remember it for when the nights were cold and lonely, for when the sun rose and he had to sleep another day away without Eve by his side.
Adam lifted his hand up between her legs. He cupped her cunt and relished the damp heat against his palm. She shivered under his touch. His mouth descended upon his chosen spot. He could feel the thud thud thud of her pulse against his lips. He drew his fangs lightly across the sensitive skin there. She moaned quietly.
He bit down slowly without breaking the skin. At the same time, he slid his fingers into her slick folds. Fuck, she was wet. She ground her hips against his hand, breathing heavily. "Ready?" He asked, against her hot skin. She nodded and he allowed his fangs to sink into her. She gasped but didn't yell out. Adam used his free arm to brace her body against his. As her thick blood pooled into his mouth, he trust two fingers up inside her, pumping them in and out of her. He'd forgotten that sex could be like this, taste like this.
As soon as he swallowed, his body coursed with pleasure. Adam kept his fingers in her cunt, while moving his thumb to her swollen clit. She immediately cried out. He massaged slowly. Her wetness increased, dripping down his long fingers that pushed in and out. He lifted his fangs from her skin. He nursed her wounds with his mouth and tongue, lapping at the excess liquid, sucking more from inside her. She moaned wildly. He put more pressure on her clit, rubbed faster, pushed as far into her as he could manage. All the while, her sweet blood flowed out of her living veins and into his eager mouth. She came a moment later. Her walls clenched around his fingers; her body quivered against him.
Everything inside him wanted to keep feeding but he knew he couldn't. He pulled away, removed his digits from inside her. His eyes went to his straining cock. Adam couldn't recall a time he had been so hard. She followed his line of sight before lifting herself up and then down onto his length. He slid into her wetness with ease. Her walls were still pulsing from her orgasm and it felt amazing against him. She rode him furiously, using his shoulders as leverage. She stared down at him. Her eyes looked like dawn newly broken through a night sky, more amber than blue now with specks of sparkling gold. Her mouth crashed down on his. She could taste her blood on his lips.
Adam pulled away a second later. He lifted his hips up, thrusting deep into her core as she rode him. His hand went to her neck. His forefinger traced the blood trickling down from his fang marks. He brought the digit to his mouth and sucked it dry. The flavor of her juices mingled with the metallic taste of blood and drove him mad. He lost himself in the music, in the aftertaste, in the scent of her. Adam punctuated another hard thrust with a grunt as his cock convulsed inside her. His head lolled back against the couch; his eyes squinted shut; his mouth opened wide and he emitted a long, satisfied groan. His pulsating erection sent her back into oblivion. Her body tensed and when her muscles contracted, her cunt clenched tightly around his cock. Adam came with the taste of blood in his mouth and he hadn't felt this contented in a long, long time.
After he'd lifted her off of him, he sat for a long time, staring off into space. God, he missed Eve. He missed blood, fresh blood and sex. He missed heartbeats and ejaculating and breathing. Already, melancholy was settling back over him.
She was staring at him with those eyes that started this madness. "What?" Adam asked.
"Turn me," she said, as if it were as mediocre a subject as the weather.
On another day, maybe he would have. What did he care if she wanted to live forever in this fucking miserable, uninspired world? But for a brief moment he had remembered what it had been like to be alive and it was her doing. He imagined the life draining from her sunrise eyes; he imagined dawn never breaking again in them, instead cast into eternal midnight. No; death was a curse and it did not suit her.
"Thou was not born for death, immortal Bird," Adam recited. Keats always knew what to say. "Now get the fuck out."