1987

Shit, shit, shit!
You give a nervous glance behind you as you traipse through the graveyard. He wasnt far behind, in fact, you were pretty sure he’d been a few feet away from you seconds ago.
Dammit!
You hear something snap, as if someone had stepped on a twig, and freeze. All your senses flare out, but you can’t hear anything. No wind, no rustling, no insects chirping or animals prowling — nothing.
He could see you, you just knew it.
His gaze made your dead skin crawl — you needed to get as far away from that hunter before he shoved a stake through your chest.
Fucking hunters, man.
You gave the graveyard another terse glance.
The moon was out tonight, the sky cloudless and stars bright, which was unfortunate in your case since it made your skin glow inhumanely. Your kind tries to stay in the dark, it was a lot harder to spot you when you weren’t glowing like a fucking lava lamp.
The graveyard you’d escaped too was full, lines and rows of overpopulated gravestones and tombs of forgotten family names. It made it harder to maneuver, more difficult to get through the rows to the next. You were pretty sure no one visited such an old place, the graves all dated back at least a century or two.
A perfect place to sleep, if you could ever get that fucking meatbag off your back.
There!
You whirl just in time, your hand closing tightly around the wrist of the hunter, the wooden stake clenched in his hand aimed for your ill-beating heart. He glares at you, his arm starting to tremble as you apply more and more pressure to his wrist, tempted to break it for wasting one of your perfectly good nights being chased.
“Stop following me!” You snarl, your fangs glinting in the moonlight, his eyes landing on them. “I don’t want to kill you!”

“Like you didn’t want to kill that guy at the bar?” he snaps back at you, struggling against your stronger hold, his body no longer young and able to fight like it once could.

You roll your flat eyes.
“Girls gotta eat, y’know. I only kill to feed, not for sport. So I don’t want to hurt you — but if you keep following me and trying to stake me, I won’t have a choice.”

“Fucking vampires!” the hunter shouts, his voice echoing through the abandoned area, loud as it reaches the trees. You feel a sharp pain to the gut as he kicks you, forcing the two of you several feet apart. You huff as you jump back, indignantly landing on top of a headstone and balancing easily.

You hate this part.
You’d killed hunters before, so many in fact you couldn’t begin to recall the number anymore. You had always wished they’d stop chasing after your kind and understand they couldn’t win. Families and generations had tried hunting all of your kind down, and obviously had failed since you still existed.
You were faster, stronger, able to survive in the most extreme of environments — where humans crumbled like dry cake.
Blood-filled cake.
Mhm.
You licked your lips as you looked at the aged hunter, seeing the vein in his neck throbbing, able to hear his heart beating erratically as he sized you up, preparing to kill you – as if he could.
Hunters always tasted different then normal humans, a little more wild and bitter from all that they had seen, angry and darker.
You’d always liked the darker flavors.
“Is this really what you want?” You sigh, deciding to give him one more chance to run before you ripped his throat out and spilled his blood all over the graves at his feet. “To die in this place? to leave your no doubt loving family behind?”

“Your damned kind took my family from me,” he muttered, aiming the stake again, taking a stance that told you he wouldn’t be an easy kill; the experienced hunters usually weren’t. “I dont have anyone to go back too.”

Ah, lonely, vengeful.
Sounded about right.
You shrug your shoulders, and step lightly off the stone, landing in the tall grass, it brushing against your bare ankles.
You’d gone out hunting tonight, and you’d dressed a little less tastefully then what you usually preferred.
Your black skirt was short, clingy in all the right places, and the heels you wore were sharp and gave you plenty of height. Your white, button up shirt was starting to get gray around the collar, probably from age, and you’d made sure your hair was styled for the age, all big and full of hairspray.
The scent burned your nose, but it made the mortal men easier prey. The man you’d lured from the bar had practically been all over you, and it had taken just a few minutes to get him into his car and have your dinner.
At first, you’d felt regret over the fact they had to die just so you could live, but after time, it didnt bother you anymore. You didn’t like to kill just for fun, where so many others of your kind did, and you refrained from any sort of killing that didn’t mean your own survival.
Which was why you were so reluctant to kill this hunter.
Despite he would have no remorse over your own death.
“Just know that you could have avoided this,” you murmur, taking a step toward him, seeing his muscles tense. You move immediately, hissing angrily as you narrowly avoided the crossbow’s wooden arrow to your chest.

You whip around, eyes spying the other hunter as he stepped around a crypt, bow aimed at your torso, features mottled and angry that he had missed.
Bloody hell.
there was two of them.
Old fuck had managed to trick you.
“So not cool,” you huff, standing your ground as the old hunter and the younger one advanced toward you, holding the traditional stake and the newest weapon of choice.

Damned crossbows.
You eye them both, your mind flicking through different, quick ways you could kill them.
You didn’t have time for this, not when the sun would be up in a couple hours.
You needed to find a place to rest.
But you weren’t about to turn your back on these two, not as crafty as they were, not with a damned crossbow.
Hrmph.
Not cool.
This was ruining your entire night.
You pout unhappily, your red-painted lips drawing.
“This really isn’t necessary.” You grumble.
“Isn’t it?” the younger one snaps, and you see his finger twitch.

Shit!
You dodge easily, and then hear a grunt, the old man suddenly gasping.
You and the young hunter both look as the old man grabs his chest, and you smell the blood as he suddenly collapses forward, falling face first into the damp earth below.
“Well that was unfortunate,” the vampire who had stepped behind him sighed, and you stare, seeing he was holding the old mans heart in his dripping red fingers. You watch the dark blood drip onto the ground, captivated for a few seconds as the scent hits you.

“You bastard!” the young boy warps around, turning his crossbow on the new vampire. “You killed Aidan!”

“Well, he was trying to kill one of my kind,” the vampire chuckles, dropping the heart with a flick of his wrist. “It was necessary.”

“You —.”

The back of your hand smashes against the back of the young hunters head, and he crumples to the ground, eyes rolling into the back of his head.
So annoying.
You glance at the other vampire, your eyes flicking over him quickly.
He was one you’d never met before, but there were so many of you that wasn’t surprising. His hair was long and black, full as it fell around his nicely shaped shoulders. His eyes were one of the brightest blues you’d seen on one of the undead, usually the color went flat after so many years, like your own had. He stood very tall, his black trench coat wafting around his booted feet as the breeze swept through the graveyard, smelling of dirt and death.
So the usual.
“Thanks,” you say after a moment, watching as the vampire nonchalantly wiped his bloodied hand on the dead hunters jacket, the moonlight glinting off the black ring in his lip.

“Of course. I could hear these humans breathing from halfway across the cemetery,” he snorts, sounding derisive. “Most annoying. I hate it when they invade my resting places.”

“Well, it was my fault. They followed me after a feed,” you sigh, unable to look away from him. He was quite handsome, in your opinion, and you could see the tattoos running across his arctic skin, speaking of ages long past. From what you could see, it looked like he was covered in them from head to toe.

Hmm.
You glance at his chest, seeing his loose shirt was low, ripped and dirty in a few places, only adding to his dark allure.
He must draw in the human females like flies on honey.
You find yourself licking your lips, and you quickly look down at the unconscious hunter at your feet. You were without a doubt going to drink him dry, that was no issue, you just had nowhere to drag him for later.
Not without him waking up and escaping while you slept.
“If you like, you can drag your little catch back to my crypt,” the other vampire offers after a moment, and your eyes slowly go back to him as he straightens, the bracelets around his wrists catching your attention as you tried to not look interested. “I’ve got myself a dinner stowed, so we could enjoy together?”

Your lips twitch.
“You want to have dinner with me?” You tease thoughtlessly, your eyes meeting his for a few seconds, and his lips curved into a grin, fangs very prominent against his other pearly whites.

“Of a sorts, I suppose. My name’s Andrew.”

“(Y/N).”

“Pretty, I like it. How old are you?”

“Um, I was changed around the fifties.” You shrug, leaning over to knot your fingers around the back of the hunters jacket. You begin to follow Andrew as he walks to the even older part of the graveyard, the hunter dragging behind you and hitting every bump along the way. “You?”

“Late eighteen hundreds.”

Well, his formal way of speaking made more sense now.
“Do you know who your maker is?”

“Of course. Old biddy changed me because she was lonely. I didn’t stay with her long though, it’s not my thing.”

“A loner, then? I am as well. My master is dead now, thanks to pathetic little men like that you have there,” his cold glance went to the hunter I was totting along. “But, all of us must come to an end eventually, I suppose. Ah, here we are,” he abruptly stops at a rather large crypt.

You glance at the family name, seeing Biersack scrawled across in elegant, old letters.
Andrew easily opens the stone door, revealing a few steps downward into an open chamber. The candles inside were all lit, revealing the walls lined with wooden, termite-ridden coffins, and one stone sarcophagus in the very center, the lid flat but the rest of it decorated in intricate designs.
“Is this yours?” You ask, seeing the nameplate, the silver glinting in the candlelight.
“Yes. I was the last of the line when I died,” he sighs in response, shutting the stone door behind you and cutting off all outside light. “Ended the line with me, as I never bred any sons or daughters.”
Shame, you think, considering how good-looking he was.
You would’ve liked to have known his children.
You glance over, spying what he had meant by “dinner.”
There was a young woman slumped against the wall, her blonde hair obscuring her face. She was dressed sparsely, leading you to believe her to be a prostitute of some sort.
“I visit here a lot,” Andrew speaks after a moment, glancing at his meal, as if he felt he had to explain himself. “So I try not to draw too much attention by taking the degenerates of the area so no one looks too hard. Usually I’m a lot… classier.” he shrugs.
“It does not matter to me your preferences, Andrew,” you shrug yourself, dragging the hunter over to a wall. You heave him easily to his feet, and hook his jacket over the back of a unused candelabra jutting from the wall. His feet barely brush the floor as you step back, eyeing your work.
His throat was at the perfect level now.
“Would you like a taste of her?” Andrew asks after a few seconds, and you glance back to see his jacket sweep behind him as he moves toward the girl. “I’ve had a good nibble, she’s very sweet.”

“I’ve already had my dinner for the night, enjoy yourself,” You turn your back to him as you look at the hunter.

Andrew doesn’t argue, and after a few seconds you hear his fangs sink into the girls neck, her soft whimper of pain. You can smell her blood, and you curl your nose.
You didn’t like the sweet very much.
You quickly run your hands over the hunter, taking any weapons he had remaining on his person and tossing them away.
He wouldn’t be needing them anymore.
You press his wrist against your face, inhaling his scent deeply, listening to his heart pump his blood through his veins.
He would be good to drink.
But you didn’t want to glutton yourself.
If a vampire was to drink an overabundance of blood, it would give them a “high” of sorts, almost like being drunk again. You didn’t prefer it, mostly because it made you out of control and unintelligible.
But…
You glance back at Andrew, seeing his dark head buried in the girls neck still, feeding languidly.
You weren’t hungry at all, and you knew Andrew wouldn’t be after he finished, but the two of you certainly couldn’t let the hunter live. You would have to finish him off, and you didn’t want to waste his blood, either.
So….
You wait patiently, and eventually Andrew lifts his head, blood on his lips as he leans away from the girl. You’d heard her heart flutter a few seconds ago, heard the sigh as her life left her.
He apparently liked the rush of killing them too.
Most vampires warned about drinking until the life left the body, how addicting it could be, how the rush of taking their essence so completely could change a vampire into something much darker.
You had only done it a few times, and not really on purpose, but Andrew….
Well.
“Would you like to share him with me?” You ask after a second, your eyes on his lips as he turns to face you. “You did help me, after all.”

You watch as he licks the blood from his lips, and after a couple seconds he was at your side, shrugging.
“Well, we certainly cannot waste him, can we?”

“No,” you chuckle, turning to gaze back at the unconscious hunter hanging against the wall. “We certainly can’t.”

“You take the neck, he’s your kill,” Andrew shrugs, taking the mans wrist.

“Are you sure?”

“Ladies first.”

What a gentlemen.
You send him a half-smile as you step closer to the man, and you lift up onto your toes, tugging the collar of his jacket out of the way. You inhale his scent deeply, closing your eyes as your lips press against his thin neck.
And then your fangs were piercing his skin, digging deeply into the important vein there. You groan as you taste his blood enter your mouth, your fingers clenching in his jacket as you leaned closer for a better angle.
You half-hear Andrew chuckle before taking a taste himself, making an approving sound as he drank from the wrist.
The man tasted divine.
He never wakes as the two of you feed from him, which is preferable to him struggling and trying to stop you. He, despite his earlier actions, would at least get to go peacefully as a nice after dinner snack.
You can feel yourself getting giddy, the bloodhigh starting to seep through your body, making you feel warm, a little more alive then you had minutes before. You dig your fangs even deeper, feeling the blood start to escape your lips and cover your skin.
You normally hate making a mess, but you could make an exception this once.
You can feel his bloodflow starting to lessen, and you lean up a little so you dont drink so much, not wanting Andrew to be cut short.
You feel a hand at your waist, and you hesitate before pulling your face from the mans neck, glancing over to see Andrew was gazing at you, the wrist still held tightly in his other hand.
His lips were parted, eyes half-closed, and you could see he was feeling the high more intensely then you were.
“(Y/N)…?”

“Hmm?” You glance at the hunter before stepping back, turning to look up at Andrew, a little embarrassed when you realized you’d gotten blood all over your mouth and down your neck. You could feel it rolling down to the swell of your breasts, and you look away quickly.

So not classy.
Andrew chuckles, and then to your surprise leans forward, his tongue running slowly against your throat, and you hold your breath as he makes his way to your jaw, slowly coming to a stop at your lips.
Oh shit.
You gaze at him, feeling a long-forgotten stirring start in you; vampires didnt have love affairs with each other or humans as some tried to romanticize, it was just physically impossible without a bloodflow, especially for a male.
However.
When there was a bloodhigh, there was a larger amount of blood circulating through a vampires body, making it possible to…. do freely as they wanted, be a little more human in some instances.
And you were certainly hoping that this was one of those instances.
You don’t even hesitate, and your hands tangle in his thick black mane as you crush your eager lips against his, feeling his hands clench around your hips as he drags your body against his, the two of you aligning perfectly.
You hadn’t kissed anyone in decades.
And he tastes delicious, of two different blood types, the sweet and harsh tastes mixing well.
He groans against your lips, and you feel his hands slip down to your thighs, clenching before abruptly lifting you up around his waist. You tighten your legs immediately, your lips never leaving his as he carries you across the crypt, sitting you heavily on the stone lid of his coffin.
No one had ever tasted so good.
You bite his lip, your fangs piercing the tender skin and causing more blood to bead, and you feel his fingers flex around your thighs through the thin material of your skirt.
He groans softly, and after a second his hands were slipping beneath your skirt, forcing it to bunch around your hips, his lips tearing from yours to go to your neck, suckling the flesh there and lapping at the blood you’d let spill over yourself.
You tighten your hand in his hair, tilting your head to allow him more room, your eyes ghosting closed in pleasure. You had never been with another during a bloodhigh, so you weren’t sure what to expect, or even if the high would last long enough for the two of you to mate.
But you certainly wanted it too.
You gasp as his fangs suddenly sink into your skin, and your legs clench around his waist automatically as the feeling in your neck spiraled down to between your thighs, and you found yourself moaning loudly, forcing his body closer against yours as he drank your blood.
His fingers tangled in your hair, forcing your head farther back, his fangs burning against your skin.
Your fingers grope at his chest, and you force his jacket off his shoulders, your hands roving down his back quickly to the hem of his shirt. You let your hands slip beneath, wanting nothing more then to rip it off his body so you could see the rest of him.
Touch the rest of him.
Feel —.
“Ungh, Andrew!” You gasp, needing him to stop drinking before you became weak. He pauses his assault at your throat, slowly pulling his fangs from your neck and quickly running his tongue over the small marks. He leans up, and you take the opportunity to wrench his shirt over his head, baring his chest to you.

You let your gaze wander his tattoos before leaning forward, your mouth working its way across the lines of thick ink. You can feel his hands wandering your body, hear his fingers working on the buttons of your shirt, and you feel the cooler air suddenly brush against your skin.
He seems to be just as eager as you were.
He pushes your shirt over your shoulders, it falling down but catching on your arms. Your hands were too busy working on his belt to worry about getting it completely off, and your let your fangs graze his chest, making him hiss as they pierce the skin and draw blood.
“(Y/N),” he breathes, his hand flexing in your hair as you leave the wound open, making your way up his neck, his jaw, finally to his lips — you enjoy kissing him almost too much.

You press your chest against his, feeling his blood start to cover your skin, the scent tantalizing to your nose. Your tongues run languidly against each other, and you feel the front of your bra snap in half, freeing your breasts.
You arch them eagerly against his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him, his belt now open and his dark jeans loose around his hips.
You were beyond ready to know him better.
He tears his lips from yours, his blue eyes now so bright you were sure they glow in the dark as he looks down at you, his thumb brushing your swollen lips.
He doesn’t speak, just leans down again, pressing his teeth against the other side of your neck and biting deeply, causing a low groan to part your lips. He doesn’t drink, just lets your blood flow freely, the droplets racing down your skin to cover your chest and back.
So that’s how he wants to play it then.
You sink your teeth into his own throat, his fingers abruptly clenching around your body as you drink his blood, the taste overwhelming your senses, thick and flowing and just divine.
He presses closer against you, gasping in your ear, his breath hotter and heavier, panting almost as he abruptly ripped your underthings in half, his fingers sweeping eagerly between your thighs.
You make a small sound in the back of your throat as his fingers find you, surprisingly damp.
You hadn’t been damp since you had been changed.
You pull your fangs from his neck, not bothering to close the wound, his blood slipping down his chest and meshing with yours. You kiss him as his fingers force their way inside your body, the feeling almost foreign it had been so many years.
And you hadn’t realized you had missed it until now.
You kiss him heatedly, gasping as his digits pushed deeply inside you, causing your head to tilt back in new-found pleasure. He eagerly lets his tongue run over your blood, the sound of him feeding off you and pleasuring you the only thing you could hear, could focus on.
The scent of both of your blood was heady in the air, intoxicating to your senses, something you never wanted to stop experiencing.
You couldn’t take much more of this!
Your hands sweep to his hips, wrenching on his jeans and forcibly pushing them down his hips, freeing his surprisingly erect member.
You were suddenly very glad for bloodhighs.
He groans as you take him into your hand, giving all of him your full attention, wanting to make sure there was no doubt in his mind that you wanted him probably as much as he did you.
You stroke, your pace quick, slowing when needed and not missing one inch, your bloody lips dominating his.
“Fuck!” he gasps, his hand abruptly closing around your wrist, forcing you to stop.

Heh.
He releases you only to wrap his fingers around your thighs, forcing them wider and pulling you to the edge of the stone lid quickly, the stone rough as it slides against your bottom. You feel his eager member press into your folds, and you squirm, wanting him so badly your heart was almost beating again.
He crushes his lips against yours just as he forces himself inside of you, wrenching a cry from your throat at the sudden invasion. He’s not gentle, but you didn’t expect him to be. his body was crushing yours against his as he thrusted inside of you, causing a ball of unprecedented warmth to build almost painfully in your stomach, your arms tangled around his neck, the blood drenching your bodies making every brush of skin slick and sticky.
It was fantasmic.
Your fingers were almost ripping his hair from the roots as you held onto him, the sounds leaving your lips unfamiliar to your normally dormant body. You had never felt this way in all your years of living, not even as a human — sex had never felt so good to you before.
Was it because your body was dead? Because you weren’t used to this? Or because it had been so long?
Regardless of the reason, that warmth in your stomach was making your skin flush, almost warm, the blood now covering your bodies heated.
“Andrew,” You moan into his ear, his hips roughly slamming into yours, forcing you wider with every plunge until your body felt like it was going to combust!

“I know,” he groans in response, a smear of blood on his cheek from where you had clasped his face. You quickly run your tongue over it, tasting both of your blood again, which only seemed to ignite the flames within you.

You gave a loud groan, tilting your body back, resting back on your arms as his hands close around your hips, forcing them to meet his, which seemed to escalate your pleasure tenfold.
You were starting to see white lights.
You let your head hang back, gasping intensely, your entire being starting to flush with heat that it hadn’t felt in decades.
Were you, were you going too — ?
“Ungh!” Your hips arch immediately as pleasure so strong suddenly sweeps through your body, so heavy that your arms could no longer hold you, and you collapse back against the stone lid, feeling the spasms shoot through your limbs so strongly you couldn’t resist them.

You lay panting for a few seconds, hardly able to breath, and you feel Andrew’s hands tug on your arms, forcing your body back up, his lips crushing yours as he continued.
He had so much more energy!
“Up!” he suddenly orders, and you gasp as he pulls out of you completely. You comply without thinking, letting your feet hit the cold stone floor before he’s abruptly turning you around, forcing your chest against the stone lid.

You groan as he enters you again, his hand on the center of your back, forcing you flat against the lid, your hands curling around the edges so tightly the stone cracks.
His hips ram against yours, the lid actually inching forward with every thrust it was so strong, and you find yourself moaning along with him, enjoying every rough mark against your flesh as his nails dug deeply, fingers smearing through your mixed blood.
“Fuck!” Andrew suddenly moans, and you feel his nails rake through the sensitive skin of your back with a cry as he finally meets his end, giving another rough thrust before his entire body quaked.

You feel him collapse on top of you suddenly, his chest heaving intensely, and for a few minutes, you both lay there, unable to move.
You’re slumped against the lid, staring at your hands, which were stained red with dry and wet blood.
Typical.
Neither of you speak, there is only the quiet of the tomb for long minutes, but you don’t mind.
You needed the silence to regroup, for your mind to swim through the mess the bloodhigh had allowed your body to become. After a while, your senses start returning, and you can suddenly feel all the damage Andrew has inflicted to your body during your mating.
Ouch.
But you’ve had worse.
Andrew shuffles after a moment, his hands pressing into the stone lid as he slowly pulls out of you. You try not to wince, and rise up as well, feeling the wounds in your back still bleeding.
You would need to feed tomorrow night after all this.
You huff as you give your chest a glance, seeing bite marks on your breasts you’d never even felt, and the wound on your neck, though healing, was still bleeding.
Your white shirt was definitely ruined.
You hear a shuffle of clothing, aware that Andrew is probably dressing.
If only you had the luxury.
You quickly fix your skirt, letting it fall down around your thighs again, and go to raise your shirt back upon your shoulders when you feel his hands slip around your bare waist, his lips suddenly closing around the weeping wound in your neck. You sigh as you feel his tongue run over the marks, healing it, and your body relaxes back against his.
“We should do this again, soon,” he whispers in your ear, his breath still warm. “I rather enjoyed myself.”

“I did too,” you murmur, though you weren’t as pleased with the fact your clothing had been torn. “But next time I’ll have to bring a change of clothes.”

He chuckles. “You may borrow mine, (Y/N).”
You like how he says your name.
You turn in his arms, tilting your head as you look up at his face curiously.
Vampires didn’t stay together long, it was almost unheard of for two to consort longer then a few weeks, a month at best, because there was no bond. Vampires didn’t feel love for one another, it just wasn’t possible anymore. The most they could feel was companionship, and some vampires were so driven by loneliness that they created others, like yours had done for you.
But most were solitary creatures.
So you didn’t expect to stay with Andrew.
During the bloodhigh, you’d thought you’d felt an old feeling of fondness rush into your chest for him, but you weren’t sure now.
Bloodhighs were tricky things.
So in the next night, the two of you would move on from each other, though you would treasure the memory of your mating, probably not see one another again for decades if you both survived that long.
You hoped he survived, at least.
He was nuzzling your neck, pressing soft kisses against your flesh and making you shiver. You giggle, leaning closer to him, wrapping your arms around your chest and contentedly standing against him.
This was so odd.
The bloodhigh must not be out of your system.
“Look at what a mess we’ve made,” he whispers in your ear, and you glance over your shoulder, seeing what you had done to his coffin, his supposed “resting place.”

Blood pooled across the now cracked lid, and red handprints covered its surface, some his, some yours, some still wet and others old and dry.
My, you had made a mess of it.
“Maybe we can leave handprints more places,” You whisper thoughtfully, absently licking the blood from his jaw.

“I think I would like that,” he chuckles, tightening his hold on your wearying form. “I think I would like that a lot.”

Notes

For my dear bro Anathema, I hope you find this!