Interlude with the Vampire
by Saro
Fog rolled over the deserted streets, silvered faintly by the light of a thin, thumbnail moon. The haze blurred the houses and the trees, reducing streetlights to pools of amber in the dark. The quiet was nearly absolute, as though the night absorbed the very vibrations of sound from the air, muffled as thoroughly as if the world were wrapped in a cotton batting. The vampire stalked through the darkness like a piece of it, stealing up to a window where spilled the faintest of light from a trimmed oil lamp.
Inside, he could see his victim, his beloved, draped across the bed. Long hair caught the light and held it, glowing warmly in the burnished strands. The flame lit a strong, well crafted face, made wan by some unknown ailment, turned unhealthy pale skin gold. His mouth was parted slightly with sleep, making him look more innocent than he was. His throat was exposed, long and pale, curved as it bent over the pillow.
The window slid open with a soft shush under the vampire’s fingers, letting him into the sleeping boy’s bedroom.
As though sensing his presence, the boy shifted in his sleep, moaning softly. His body arched slightly, his face twitching toward a grimace, then relaxing again into those open, young lines.
The vampire smiled as he looked down on him. His hand snaked out to touch the cheek, trailed over warm skin and settled on the boy’s lips. They were soft and slightly moist, pliant under his finger tips. The vampire settled on the bed beside the boy, absorbing the picture he made, and the feel of him. His blood already stirred in anticipation.
He leaned in, smelled the boy’s shampoo, the fresh scrubbed scent of his body. He moved his hand, slipping it back to cup the back of his prey’s neck and tilting his head to a vulnerable angle. He dropped closer, nuzzled the pulse point under the boy’s ear. A soft kiss, the first of many, laid against the boy’s throat, a sweep of the tongue.
The boy hummed his appreciation of the attention, stirring restlessly. One of his arms landed across the vampire’s shoulders, the weight of it drawing him closer, urging him on.
He ran his tongue over his fangs, felt the points.
"Aw heww," Heero muttered as the fangs moved under the pressure.
Duo’s eyes snapped open. He sighed in exasperation. "What's the matter?"
"Meh," Heero began, then groaned and took the fake teeth out of his mouth. "My teeth moved."
Duo rolled his eyes and sat up. "That's it. Next time, I'm being the vampire."
Setting the fangs on the nightstand, Heero shook his head. "You are not. Last time you were the vampire, I had to explain the hickey you left to Trowa the next day. Either I'm the vampire, or no deal."
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