Title | Take this Blood
Genre| romance/horror
Rating| T for blood and death
Fandom| TMI
Timeline| Mid-CoA and Pre-CoG
Couple| Raphael/Simon

Inspiration| I love angry!love . . .

Warning| some suggestive themes *eyebrows* and, well, blood


"Soaked in sin—baptized by your kiss and now I'm born again

Bite your lip, wrap my hands around your head and pull you in

I can't catch my breath—sleep, think, or speak—

Yeah, your mojo witchcraft honey—it's workin' on me."

"Bang" by Armchair Cynics


They arrive at the hotel: Simon howling in pain and Raphael seething in anger; nothing too out of the ordinary. The rest of the clan shares but a few longing stares, some eye rolling, and a few misplaced giggles here and there before going back to whatever they were doing.

They're never on Simon's side anyway.

Raphael drags him up the stairs, head bouncing against every creaking step and brain rattling in his head.

Simon's nails dig deep gouges into the old, damp wood of the foyer into Raphael's bedroom. The elder vampire makes a noise of distaste and wrenches him upward, and stops being a caveman long enough to say, "You can stand now, fool," before shoving him hard against the door. Simon's head cracks against the wood. He bares his teeth and moves to lunge at him—to bury his claws into Raphael's chest, through his soft skin, to his strong bones, to his immortal heart.

Raphael wraps his fingers around Simon's wrists and presses them into the curve of the door, rolling his body into Simon's, immobilizing him with ease. "Let me go!" Simon screams, raising his leg to kick.

"What's the matter, Daylighter?" Raphael's lips curl into a smirk. "Scared of the beast?" His thigh presses between Simon's legs, intimately and with just enough warning to say he'll jerk his knee up just as fast if Simon makes a move he doesn't like. "Does that make you beauty then?"

"Leave. Me. Alone."

Raphael smirks, "Oh, angry? So am I."

His claws draw the length of Simon's palms.

"Why?" hisses Simon, voice growing in volume so that the rest of the coven might hear. "Because your little toy found someone else? Someone he likes better—a human?"

Raphael's teeth flash in warning, but Simon presses on. Might as well dig his grave deeper.

"Are you jealous of him?" Simon muses. "You're jealous of my friend because he's close to me? Or because I chose him? Because I kissed him. Because he liked it!" His nails begin to ebb into his skin. "And guess what?" By now Simon's voice is a whisper and he's leaning towards Raphael all the while, ready to deliver the finishing blow. "I liked it too."

He seizes forward, teeth sinking into the flesh of Raphael's mouth.

He screams and Simon pushes himself forward, his forehead knocks against Raphael's nose. The two scramble apart to right themselves, gasping for unneeded air. Raphael looks feral with his shirt ripped and blood dribbling from his lip and neck. His fangs glitter behind his lips.

Simon flattens himself against the door—trying to breathe, to calm down, to find a way out—but his mind is drawing blanks.

"Damnit," he swears and yanks a hand through his hair. The tips of his fingers are bloody and smell like Raphael—hunger gurgles through his stomach.

Raphael lunges and fights him to the bed, hands ripping at Simon's shirt and jacket. Simon gasps, clawing against his aggressor who's pushing him down with petite kisses and fickle brushes of his hands.


Clasping wrists, pressing hands, scattering kisses and a little blood here and there: that was their relationship in a nutshell. There were also the rough kisses and stinging bites and lingering touches and telepathic mind barrages.

More so than usual, Raphael seemed to be even more intent on keeping Simon with him.

He was making him nocturnal—arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him close in the middle of the day when he usually left. He drains Simon of blood, life and energy—drawing out his pleasure for the sake of keeping Simon far from his own, making him beg for mercy and more.

He kisses him until his lungs feel like they might burst and presses his fingers down on bruises until his skin is tainted with dark purple and red spots where the veins broke beneath. It feels like he's trying to leave an unobtainable permanent mark on Simon's body, tainting it to fit to his liking.

"Relax," Raphael shushes. He has Simon on his stomach, bare beneath him and exposed to the world, Raphael is looming above him in a similar state, pressing bloody kisses into his back.

Simon squirms, but Raphael's nails dig into his thigh—making him cry out and remain docile. His leg aches—though long healed—it's the memory that makes him cringe. "Good," Raphael murmurs against his skin and scratches his teeth up to the flesh of his shoulder to the tip of his ear, Simon sobs. It doesn't hurt much, but enough to make him break. "What? Am I not allowed to bite you?"

Fingers fisting the sheets beneath him, Simon mumbles something into his pillow.

"Wrong answer, Simon," Raphael whispers to the shell of his ear, "I'm allowed to do anything I want to you. Do you know why?—because you're mine."

Raphael sucks a hickey into the skin below Simon's ear, hands roaming, and pulls away only to inspect it—satisfied.

Simon strangles the noise with his pillow—the feeling twisting around his head, branching down his back and pooling in his lower stomach, making Raphael's attentions almost too much to handle. He refuses to show it though.

"Well, what about—?" Raphael trails off and leans down dragging his tongue from the base of his spine to his neck in one thick stripe—his teeth gnaw gently at Simon's nape. The boy under him snivels and his fangs descend into the pillow in an attempt to keep quiet. "You like that don't you?" One of Raphael's hands slip to Simon's hip, feeling the bone of his hip, and using it to guide him onto Simon knees to meet him. "Let me hear it."

Simon can't speak and Raphael mouths obscenely at the teeth marks marring Simon's neck; kissing them until their healed and the skin is ready for new ones.


Pain and pleasure—Simon's body is burning, barely filled with enough blood to heal himself the bites and cuts dealt to his skin sting in pain with his sweat and he can't move. His skin is burning like razor burn from the inside. His lungs are thinning and clenching.

He's suffocating.

Raphael leans forward, fingers curling into Simon's hair and pushes their lips together in a passionate kiss and, with little persuasion, Simon's lips part and is surprised with the blood slipping between his teeth. Simon drank greedily, in gasps for air and moans—to Raphael's enjoyment.


"Do you wish to kill me?"

Raphael leaves him alone for an hour and Simon pries the boards of the windows of his bedroom.

"No, I know you and your mind—you will not kill me."

"Shows how much you know people." He says sardonically.

"You'll have to forgive me sometime, Daylighter, might as well be now."

Simon presses himself against the cool glass of the window, trying to remember what sunlight looks like and how warm it was on his skin. He'll be content with the cold, sickly glow of the moon because it reminds him of Maia and how she ran under it as a wolf and Isabelle with the whip she carried that shined like silver bangles on her arm and her moonlight skin.

Two girls, two very different girls he loves.

But loves what got him here.

Loving Raphael is killing him.

Raphael is pouting from across the room, acting as if the last few days haven't even happened and he's as sexually starved as a thirteen-year-old boy they just got denied by his girlfriend—or boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

Simon cringes against the glass and forces his eyes on the street below and the bright lights of the homes dotting up and down the street. Crosses and statues of the Virgin Mary stand proudly on display to keep out the damned.

It's useless and his thoughts travel back to Raphael—and the fact that he'll never love him back.

Their nights together were passion, heat and tenderness when the mood took them and sometimes Simon wants to live in those moments forever because in those times Raphael is as diligent and adoring as any lover ought to be. When they're gone, they're gone—maybe that's why he lets Raphael dominate him so easily.

Pining didn't suit him at all, he realizes and a hand closes around his upper arm, spinning him around.

"Come here," Raphael murmurs and pulls Simon to his throat—exposed and waiting. "Take as much as you like, but try and kill me, you'll regret it for the rest of the night."

He hesitates and tries to pull away, but he feels like there are more than Raphael's hands anchoring him there.

He doesn't love you. He doesn't. Simon chastises himself and his thoughts. His mind was losing sanity lately anyway. The beast took over while his normalcy retreated. It was the beast—the vampire in him—that makes him submit, that makes him want.

You can make him love you. A voice coos from the back of his mind and it sounds like him, but not. This sounds dark and dangerous with flashing eyes and long fangs; a throaty seductive voice belonging to a sleek and dangerous animal.

Simon sighs against Raphael's skin, nuzzling with his nose and breathing in his scent with all his lungs would allow. His lips press down onto Raphael's neck—Simon swears he felt him flinch—and tastes the cool and oddly warm flesh beneath. Make it good for him, really good. He draws his tongue out to swipe at the favored patch of skin, to numb it to the coming pain.

Simon lets his teeth slip into the flesh like a knife through butter, the slow ache building in his jaw and the explosion of blood on his tongue is almost enough to make him forgive Raphael for everything. Even for turning him into this.

When he finishes they stare at each other until Raphael pulls him in and kisses him until he's soft and submissive and his hands are gentle.


They're laying side by side while the sun is coming up over the city skyline (Raphael had already closed the curtains back up—growling while doing so), their arms touching and fingers close enough to lock together, but they don't. Simon laps at the blood on his lower lip and savors the flavor. The blood is clam, willingly given, underlining an emotion he can't place, but must have felt before.

Everything is displaced in his mind, this close to Raphael and he's a mess. It was like everything else seemed to shut off to focus on the one thing his primitive sire bound mind thought important. Watching his sire's body move, the contrast of their skin, his expressions—it's all so overwhelming.

A hand brushes his thigh, making him jump.

"Turn over."

"What?"

"Move," Raphael turns his shoulder and hip, pulling Simon's back against his front and pressing his nose into the curve of his neck between his shoulder and chin—and inhales.

"Um,"

"Go to sleep, cariño." His lips move against Simon's shoulder with the words, imprinting them into his flesh for later.

He didn't miss the nickname that much . . .


Does Simon seem justified falling in love? Does it make sense?

THANK YOU for all the reviews! I love you all so much, my little lovelies! Keep reading and reviewing and loving me loving you with some good ole slashy slashness. I'm in an amazing mood (aside from everyone in charge of my school being assholes for the new 1 to 32 teacher to student ratio for the classroom and the firing of my favorite teacher) my letter grade in math went up and Mr. M gave me a balloon animal.

Have an question, suggestion, or commentary: feel free to write in the white box. :D

Untangling the feels next chap.

Dreamland take me away, and review please.