Arthur remembered the first time he met Alfred.
God, he could have easily killed that little bastard then, right there in front of his little bastard vampire friends. A demon was naturally on par with the strength of a vampire; in this fantastical world, those two beings – alongside those idiotic werewolves – were a force to be reckoned with.
But Arthur wasn't your normal demon. There is a reason as to why he's referred to as the Prince of Hell, and he wasn't adorned that title by showing any sign of weakness, mercy, nor kindness.
But something, just something, about Alfred F. Jones stopped him in his tracks, sword still pointed at the leader of the vampires and claws still sharpened, but not a single murderous action taken. He could feel his blood boil, his mind screaming at him, demanding what the fuck are you doing, Arthur? Kill him, kill him.
His heart said otherwise.
Green eyes had met smug blue ones. Blue ones that fascinated him. It was the first time he had ever seen a vampire with those color eyes. Most were a shade a reddish-gray, an unnatural color fitting for unnatural beings.
Alfred had sent his little posse away, and the two found themselves alone in the starless night, the two most feared beings of the mythical world in each other's presence, prolonging the seemingly inevitable death one of them was to encounter.
Based upon the way Alfred stared – no, gazed at him, Arthur could tell that the vampire prince found himself in the same predicament as he. They both left themselves open, both given the opportunity to end it, end it here and now. Whatever was to happen needed to happen now; the wait was too much to bear.
It didn't take long for Arthur to find himself frantically kissing Alfred, the vampire's hands quickly exploring places the demon never knew were so damn sensitive.
Alfred enjoyed drinking Arthur's blood only.
Granted, he occasionally reminisced upon the sweet taste of a human's blood, fondly remembering the transition from beautifully warm to refreshingly cool, and felt a bit of hunger whenever he watched his twin brother Matthew and Lovino feast upon a poor mortal; but Arthur's blood – his blood was pure intoxication.
It was indescribable. He just knew that he needed it so fucking much and – ah, simply thinking about it was enough to make him long for it, crave for it. It was Alfred's drug that he took in moderation (he'd never take more than he needed) and he loved the mellifluous moans Arthur would make as the vampire drank the red liquid, nipping, licking, biting his sensitive neck.
Drinking this demon's blood came with so much benefits.
For the fifth time in the past two weeks, Elizabeta was left in charge of the rowdy demon younglings. Those little brats will give her a hard time, she knows it, but she'll smack some sense into them. She didn't bother to question why the demon prince left her in charge yet again; she knew by now that Lord Arthur Kirkland was too busy having a meeting with that vampire lord Alfred.
Of course, she'd always tease him as to what exactly happened in those meetings, and would become thoroughly amused at the pink blush that appeared upon her lord's face.
Alfred caught a glimpse of how much Arthur loved him when he witnessed a battle between the vampire and the werewolf king, Francis, all on his behalf.
Werewolves are known for the snarky and anger-provoking remarks, and Francis was skilled at. Arthur usually ignored him or provided his own sardonic retort, but a nerve was snapped when the werewolf made a mention of how disgusting, absolutely vile it was for a demon to be engaged in such a relationship with a vampire, especially such a weak vampire such as Alfred.
Normally, Alfred would calmly and charmingly have ended his life right there, but Arthur chose the more aggressive, overt route. There was so much blood that Alfred F. Jones was surprised Francis even managed to crawl away, his werewolf lackeys Gilbert and Antonio throwing dull daggers at the demon. Alfred chuckled to himself. The fools were on demon territory; they may not make it far once the demons catch whiff on how they treated Lord Arthur.
Arthur turned to the vampire, a large grin on his face. "My apologies. That was quite a brutish display."
Alfred shook his head, returning the grin. "No, no, it wasn't brutish – it was sexy."
Arthur comfortably sat on Alfred's lap as they both lounged on the vampire throne. They were basked in an ethereal moonlight, giving a sense of beauty to the fear-inducing beings. Arthur enjoyed this. He enjoyed and loved and appreciated this so much that he hoped it never ended. This very moment was on the many moments he cherished, able to reflect upon it when he was with Alfred, far from others.
"I love you, my demonic Arthur," Alfred whispered, bringing Arthur's hand to his cold lips and kissed it. His fangs softly grazed his warm skin, sending a shiver down the demon's spine.
"I love you as well, my vampiric Alfred." He chose to show this by placing a light kiss to Alfred's cheek, then nuzzling against the blonde's chest, noting the lack of heartbeat and the pleasant silence that surrounded them both.
Life was bloody sweet.
'Ello, 'tis be Inuyasha and vampire!America and demon!England was something I've wanted to write for, like, ever. I think this turned out well, though my writing style seems to be a bit different than usual. Eh, I guess that's just me.
I hope you'd enjoyed it~ See ya!