Archive of Our Own

Westpond was a small, quaint town on the outskirts of a sprawling forest, the population barely scraping past 200 people. The closest town over was still a few hours away by car, so they were a isolated people. It was for the best, as the town had a dark secret, of sorts. For it isn’t a secret – except there is an unspoken rule to never share it with outsiders. Yet still the rumours spread, and people come from far and wide to seek out the truth.

The truth is, the town is more or less ran by a vampire. He is best known as the Lord of the village, yet no one has ever actually seen him, preferring to stay secluded in his house – the Westwell Manor. Built centuries ago, the manor is surrounded by enormously tall walls covered in vines and blackened with moss and age. In its prime, the house was a pristine marble that shone in the rare moments of sunlight that graced Westpond. Now, after years of weathering and age, the manor looks worse for wear.

Every kid that grows up in Westpond learns the stories of the Lord of the Manor, always reminded to stay away from the gigantic house at all costs, especially at nightfall. Once the streetlamps turn on, kids playing in the streets and mingling around know to return home.

Funnily, nothing has ever happened to cause such distaste towards the Lord. Kids are told these rumours as a scary bedtime story, and nothing more. For you see, in the entirety of the time the village has stood, no one has ever been killed or gone missing - there are no justified reasons to hate the Vampire. Every year, someone is tasked to send the Lord flowers – as every year, the Lord anonymously leaves a large fortune of money at the doorstep of the town hall. This donation is put into the town’s farming, schooling and industrial areas to improve it over the next year. No one knows why the Lord does this, except that every year he leaves a hand-written note, with a simple but beautifully cursive thank you. People assume he thanks the village for maintaining his secret, but no one is entirely sure.

The question every year, is who is to deliver the flowers that year. It’s kind of an infamous chore - as the person that gets chosen is both lucky and unlucky. There is a draw of names in a glass bowl, and the so called ‘Mayor’ gets to choose a single person. Well, today is that day, and the entire 200-something people are all sprawled in the town square, holding their collective breaths over who was to be chosen. There was a chill over the air, and parents clutched their kids closer as people began to shiver. From the cold or nerves, it was unknown. People's breaths were visible in the chilled air, as if the weather had turned cold in solidarity for the event.

Everyone’s eyes were glued to the Mayors hand as it dipped into the bowl, swirling around until he pulled out a single, white crisp piece of paper. Unfolding it, he read it over quickly before calling out;

“Mark Lee.”

It was comical, the way everyone’s heads and eyes turned to Mark. Some in pity, some in curiosity. Mark gulped, wide eyes darting back and forth, and walked forward after a beat of silence. The crowd parted, giving him a clear path to the Mayor, who had the large bouquet of flowers on a small table inside a decorative vase beside him.

“Good luck, young Mark.” The mayor said, giving him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and pat him on the back resolutely.

Mark nodded, too stunned to formulate a verbal response, and grabbed the bouquet. Everyone watched as he walked away, in the direction of the Manor. It was a short walk, the Manor was only about a two or three minute walk outside the town, but on the ousskirts of the village, the road switches to gravel and Mark only had the crunch of it underfoot as a sound. In the village, there’s the sounds of birds chirping, of kids laughing and running around, but the closer to the forest – and the Manor – the quieter it seems.

Mark can see it in the distance, can see the looming darkness of the house. It’s intimidating, the way the Earth has overgrown the walls and the house, the once beautiful gardens surrounding it reduced to a tangle of weeds and dead trees. Mark pulls his cloak tighter around himself to stave off the sudden drop in temperature, and nearly trips over an overgrown tree root. Keeping on, he nears the large gate of the intimidating surrounding walls.

Westwell Manor.

Lord of the Village.

The sign beside the gate reads, but is badly weathered and barely legible, like the rest of the Manor. Mark hesitates, before pushing the gate with his free hand. Both sides open, the rusted-over hinges complaining loudly in a near-deafening screech. Great, Mark thinks, now he definitely knows I’m here.

The thing is, over the years, Mark’s curiosity about the Manor grew, increasing to the point where he was almost excited to turn 18 and finally be old enough to participate in the name draw. Now, at 21, he finally got his chance to go satiate his curiosity, yet his fear was palpable. Afraid of the idea of vampires, not necessarily afraid of the Lord himself. Because Mark isn’t dumb – he knows the Lord doesn’t hurt any of the villagers, and gives such a generous donation each year. To Mark, he’d almost call the Lord a nice guy – something he once admitted his mother, who hissed at him to never say such a thing ever again.

As Mark makes his way through the front garden, the gates click closed behind him, effectively sealing him in. He stops, and looks up at the house, neck craning to take it all in. The stories do it no justice – it’s a gigantic house, with large sloping rooves, massive pillars and just like the outside gates, a large door right in the centre.

Mark takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and walks up the couple of stairs and to the front door. On it, a large decorative knocker, styled to be a skull. Mark almost snorts, reaching up to bang the knocker once, twice, and then three times. The knocking was loud, and Mark could hear it echoing inside the house. The door clicks open, and Mark steps back out of shock, expecting someone to be there, yet when he pushes it open, it's deserted. Candles line the hallway, lit along the walls and on tall stands, illuminating the interior. If the outside was dilapidated and worn, the inside was anything but. It was grand, with plush rugs and marble sculptures, and beautiful landscape paintings on the walls. Mark couldn’t help but want to explore further, walking down the hallway into a double stairway, the two staircases winding up opposite each other to join on the second-story landing, which split off into multiple doorways.

Mark saw a table between the two staircases, against the wall, and he set the flowers down. Normally, the person tasked to leave the flowers leaves them on the doorstep or just inside the house, but Mark wasn’t scared – this was his one chance to look around. Seldom do people get this opportunity, and Mark wasn’t one to turn something like that down.

He explores room to room, taking in the beautiful large living room and its large fireplace, noting the lack of television or any type of electricity. Yet, there was hints of modernity in the kitchen, with the large double doored fridge, massive oven range and – funnily enough – coffee maker. Which Mark realises, a beat too late, that is currently brewing. He almost glances over it, before he remembers where he is – and who lives here, before a shock of fear drops down his spine and into his abdomen.

He turns, ready to leave, but the air wooshes out of him. Right behind him, and now in front, is the most beautiful man Mark has ever laid eyes on. Granted, he knew everyone who lived in his village by name, but this. This is different. This is otherworldly beauty, and Mark was left breathless.

The man cocks his head, studying Mark, before he smiled, all teeth and sharp canines, and offered his hand.

“Hi, I’m Yuta!” He introduced, and Mark had a moment of crystal clarity, before he abruptly lost consciousness, falling forward and fainting into the vampires – Yuta’s, Mark thinks belatedly – cold arms.

*****

Gasping, Mark sits up in bed, eyes taking in the darkness around him. He recognised his own room instantly, and he calmed down a little before he searched around for his phone. It was on his nightstand, and he felt his hand knock something off as he reached to turn on the small lamp on the bedside table. Once he turned it on, soft yellow light illuminated the room, and he looked over the edge of his bed to see a letter addressed to him on the floor.

Picking it up and sitting back up straight, he studied the letter closely. His name was written in fountain pen ink, beautifully calligraphed in cursive, and the back was sealed with a wax seal. The design on the seal was a rose and its stem, the design sitting in a dark red wax. Mark was intrigued, to say the least. It was obvious who left it for him, but his memory was a little foggy.

He opened it with gentle, but slightly shaky hands. The seal broke away easily, and he unfolded the letter, reading over it and taking in every detail he could. It was written in the same ink and style, looking beautifully old fashioned and slightly ominous.

What Mark couldn’t believe, was what it said in the letter. Dearest Mark Lee, it reads,

I hope this letter found you well.

It was so unfortunate that we had to cut our meeting so short, as I did appreciate the company, albeit how brief it lasted. I hope you do not mind my returning you to your household, as I did not want to scare you more.

I would very much appreciate it if you could return to my Manor hastily, as I would like to thank you for giving my the beautiful flowers in person. Please consider my request.

Best regards,

Vampire Lord Nakamoto Yuta.

Mark reread the letter probably two dozen times before he let his eyes break away from the paper. It was mesmerizing. Mark looked out the window, noticing he must have slept for a lot longer than he thought, as the sun was low in the sky, and the streetlamps were on. He hopped out of bed, and decided it was now or never. He was still in his day clothes, and his cloak was neatly folded on his small table.

He grabbed a spare change of clothes, jeans and a button-up shirt, and took a quick shower. He smelt like dried sweat, and he had half a mind to think of how sensitive the vampire’s nose could be. Yuta… Mark thought wearily, towel drying his hair, his name is Yuta.

He snuck back to his bedroom, trying to be quiet and not alert his mother to his leaving. He slipped the cloak on, and swiped up his phone before slipping out of his window and trying not to step on the flowers below his window.

He pulled his hood up to hide his face, and shield it from the cold wind, and made his way to the Manor. His nose was cold, no doubt turning a soft red hue. In no time, he found himself in front of the gate. Once again, it opened with a loud screech, and he shut it behind himself this time, effectively cutting himself off from the village. Now it was dark enough that the last dredges of light illuminated the house, while the garden within the walls was hidden in shadows. Mark tried to remember a haphazard path to avoid the overgrowth, and only tripped a couple times before he made it to the looming front door once again.

Knocking, the door opened itself again, and he let himself in, slipping through the door and shutting it behind himself with a resound click. Shivering, he pulled his cloak tighter to his body, as the marble around him seemed to only make the place even colder. As he walked in, he noticed the chandelier above the twin staircases was lit, and was lighting up the room really well. Mark saw movement out the corner of his eyes, and saw Yuta coming out one of the doorways on the second floor, and once he saw Mark, he grinned and happily ran down the stairs.

“Mark!” He cheered once he was on the bottom floor, almost running over to Mark.

Mark didn’t really expect Yuta’s personality to be so – bubbly. One would seldom use that word to describe vampires, that’s for sure.

“I’m so glad you came back!” Yuta was still grinning, now in front of Mark. “I have to formally introduce myself now, I’m Nakamoto Yuta, and I’m the vampire Lord of this Manor.”

Yuta held out his hand again, and Mark gripped it, and they shook hands, Yuta’s hands slender and pale and adorned with brilliant rings, and so cold to the touch.

“Mark Lee,” Mark breathed out, eyes glued to Yuta’s brilliant smile. If he looked close enough, he could see the slightly abnormally pointed teeth, “But you already knew that, ha ha.”

God, Mark. Get it together.

Yuta grinned even harder, using his grip on Mark’s hand to walk/ drag him to the lounge room. In there, the fire was going in the fireplace, the room warmer than any other part of the house he’s been into yet.

“I put the fire on because I know you humans get cold, I hope you don’t mind.” Yuta said softly, sitting on the ornate velvet couch in front of the fire. Mark sat beside him, and allowed himself to really take in Yuta’s appearance.

The age-old rumour that vampires are absurdly beautiful was definitely true – Mark’s eyes hadn’t left Yuta’s face at all. His hair was stark white and pushed back, framing his face and nearly touching his shoulders. His eyes were blood red and intimidating, and his chin and jaw were sharp and defined. He was wearing a white button up silk shirt, but the first few buttons were undone and Mark was having trouble looking away from the pale expanse of skin that is available for his eager eyes. He quickly looked down, to see where his white shirt is tucked into impossibly tight black leather pants, and his eyes flickered back up to Yuta’s, and he knew Yuta had seen his blatant looks checking him out. Yuta let his eyes crawl down Mark’s body, and Mark realised he probably can't see much beyond the cloak he wore, so he purposely shucked it off, acting nonchalant as he let it fall behind him and he folded it quickly, setting it beside him on the couch. This time, Mark let Yuta’s eyes have free rein, which when turning back, Yuta’s eyes were looking directly into his.

It made Mark’s heart thump in his chest, and he knew that Yuta knew how much he affected Mark. How nervous he made him, and they only just met. After all, he could probably hear the way Mark's heart skips a beat every so often.

“Mark, how would you like to be my friend?” Yuta spoke so suddenly, it startled Mark.

“Oh, yeah, that could be fun!” Mark said a little too eagerly, and Yuta grinned back, and was going to say something before Mark’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Yuta’s expression changed drastically, and he grew confused.

“Sorry, that was just my phone, see?” Mark held it up, and Yuta studied it curiously.

“Phone? Like, telephone? Why is it so – flat?” Yuta held it up between two fingers, scared to touch it the way a kid is scared to touch a worm.

Mark laughed then, couldn’t stop himself, and softly took the phone back.

The screen lit up again, and Yuta stared at it even harder, frowning, hair falling around his face as he looked at it.

“Haven’t you ever… seen one before?” Mark questioned, not sure if he was overstepping any boundaries by asking. Yuta shook his head, obviously not minding the question.

“I really am not too involved in current technology, precious. I had one of the first phones ever created, though. Not very efficient, so I haven’t had one since.” Yuta explained, still looking down at the phone in Mark’s hands. Mark however, had one work ringing in his head.

Precious.

Of course, Mark thinks, he uses endearments that have been more or less outdated for decades. He can’t believe how easily it slipped from Yuta’s lips.

“It’s not the newest of this brand, but it is fairly new. Do you want to see what it can do?” Mark asked, and Yuta looked at him with the most excited, hopeful expression it made Mark’s heart skip for a second.

*****

That’s how Mark ended up spending the majority of the night teaching Yuta how to use a modern phone. He was amazed at texting and calling, and thought it was magic with the way people could talk like they were in the same room, but worlds apart. And video calls were a different thing all together. Yuta spend a good hour just watching random YouTube videos, watching as many as he could because oh my god Mark! They have such tiny films now!

Mark was yawning and from looking at his phone – now at 3% - he could see it was nearing 6 in the morning. Even Yuta was looking tired, and Mark belatedly realised Yuta sleeps during the day. Yuta noticed Mark’s yawn, and Mark was starting to feel cold again – the fire had burnt to ashes an hour or so before, and had a soft orange glow to it now.

“You’re tired,” Yuta said simply, and stood up, brushing off imaginary dust, and holding his hand out to help Mark to his feet. Nice, Mark thought, but unnecessary to have to help me up.

Yuta led him upstairs, and Mark tried to take in as much of the house as possible, and noticed the upstairs has a lot more mahogany and warmer tones, compared to the stark cold marble of downstairs.

There were multiple doors along a long and lavishly decorated hallway, and Yuta led him to one near the end.

“A spare room, for you to rest, love. You may leave whenever you need, but I do need my beauty sleep.” Yuta flicked his hair behind his shoulder, and left Mark to it, walking into the room across from Mark’s.

Mark realised Yuta chose this spare room on purpose, so that it was directly across from his own, and Mark felt himself blush a little. At that, and the pet name.

He went into his room for the night – or day – and gasped. It was massive, decorated with a massive four-poster bed with soft white bedding and sheer white curtains surrounding the bed. There was a large rug on the ground, surrounded by a cream coloured couch and desk, and a small ensuite to the side of the room, separated by an intricately carved ornate door.

Mark pushed open the door, and looked into the mirror above the sink countertop. The bags under his eyes were prominent, his hair fluffed up everywhere from being wet when he left his house and stuffed it under the hood of his cloak.

He quickly washed his face, and padded back out to the bedroom. He frowned and realised he probably should text his mother, and thankfully his phone was still alive. On its last percent, he sent her a quick text to say he was at Renjun’s house, and threw the phone down on the desk, quickly deciding to change out of his clothes. He looked through the small cupboard in the room, opening the draws to see a soft, worn looking button down white shirt, really soft and fairly oversized. Mark pulled it on, feeling ridiculous in the large shirt and his boxers and socks, but got over it as he crawled into the bed.

The blankets were thick and warmed up quickly, and he felt really content as he let himself relax and take in his current situation.

You’re sleeping in the vampire’s manor, his head helpfully supplied, and you’re definitely crushing on him. On a vampire, Mark, you idiot.

Mark pushed that thought away, rolling over and shutting his eyes and letting himself succumb to the drowsiness from not sleeping all night.

*****

Mark woke up only a few hours later – at 11 in the morning – and he quickly got dressed and made his way outside. He didn’t want to over-stay his welcome. Before he left, he hesitated and left a letter on his bed, assuming Yuta might wake up and come looking for him and see it. All he wrote was that he was going home for a bit and will be back at dusk.

Once he was back home, he fell into his bed, and grinned to himself. He couldn’t believe what he did. He squealed to himself like some teenage girl, until his mother knocked loudly on his door, telling him to get out of bed, and he sighed, getting ready for another shower.

His mother sent him out to buy groceries, and he groaned as the harsh lights of the small grocery store hurt his tired eyes. He doesn’t regret staying up all night for Yuta though, and he finds himself thinking of the vampire for the rest of the day. He spaced out and followed the grocery list his mother gave him, running on autopilot. He kept seeing blood red eyes and sharp white teeth in fleeting images in his mind, smooth white skin and pale, slender hands.

As he was waiting at the checkout, he found himself glancing over at the Manor, and he could barely see it between the cover of the trees.

“Oh, you’re the kid that went to the Manor this year!” Mark was pulled out of his reverie when the checkout operator spoke, and it shocked Mark enough to make him flinch.

“Oh-oh yeah, that was me! Ha ha,” Mark laughed awkwardly, and scratched the back of his neck, and the old lady behind the register gave him a soft look.

“It’s very scary, isn’t it? I went when I was barely twenty years old, but I didn’t even make it inside the gates. I just left the flowers and ran. Haven’t gone anywhere near that place since,” She shuddered, and Mark frowned to himself, looking down.

“How did you do, dear? How close did you get?” She asked softly, putting the last of his groceries into bags.

“Um – I did the same. Left them at the gates – the gate wouldn’t open. It was rusted shut,” Mark said softly, handing money to the cashier and waiting for his change.

“Perhaps for the best, you know. If it can keep people out, hopefully it can keep it in,” she winked at him, and he grabbed the change hastily, picking up the bags and walking out.

Mark didn’t realise that comment made him unreasonably angry. Why would people have such a negative misconception on someone they’ve never met, on someone that’s only been generous and giving over hundreds of years? Mark was eager to go back to the Manor, to see Yuta and to keep talking to him. By the time he was home it was early in the afternoon, and he decided he might as well take a nap, if he’s going to adopt a more nocturnal lifestyle.

After helping his mother put away the groceries, he rushed to his room and crawled into bed, setting an alarm on his phone for later in the evening, and crashing to sleep.

*****

By 7pm, Mark was knocking on the big door once again, letting himself in and trying not to look too eager to be there. There were less candles lit this time, but Mark could see and feel the warm glow from the lounge room, and followed it until he saw Yuta sitting in front of the fire reading a heavy-looking book. Yuta looked up, and seemed almost surprised – as if he didn’t hear Mark stumbling and cursing his way through the garden.

“Mark! I’m so glad you’re back!”

Yuta set his book down as Mark moved around the couch to sit beside him. Mark dug into his pocket and pulled something out, handing it to Yuta.

“I had a spare phone – an old one that I had before my current one – and thought maybe you’d like to use this? We can text each other, if you would like to?” Mark’s palms were clammy, and Yuta looked up at Mark with such an endeared look that it made Mark flush red.

“Mark, that’s so sweet! Of course, I’d like to send you those texting messages. Maybe letters are outdated.” Yuta said, his tone saddening a bit towards the end.

“No, no! I love your letters! But I can’t really send any back at such a fast rate, so I thought this might be easier,” Mark said quickly, trying to make Yuta feel better.

“I really appreciate this, Mark. You know, you’re the first person to not be afraid of me.” Yuta said softly, and held Mark’s hands in his lap, staring earnestly at Mark.

“I am afraid of you,” Mark blurted, and he felt himself flush again, and looked away. Yuta cocked his head, frowning, still holding Mark’s hands in his.

Mark couldn’t help but fiddle with Yuta’s fingers in nervousness, staring down at them.

“I’m not afraid of you hurting me, though. I know you’ve never hurt anyone from the village. But I’m scared by how beautiful you are, and so sweet, when people just hate you for no reason. I’m scared by how welcoming you are, when people are so quick to say you’re evil. You are so generous to us every year, and all we repay you with are flowers. How can we ever repay such generosity?” Mark let his eyes flicker up to Yuta’s, and saw how forlorn he looked. However, he stood up, once again pulling Mark up, and led him out of the lounge-room.

“Mark, you have no idea how much I enjoy your village's flowers. Let me show you.”

He led Mark up the stairs, and in the opposite direction of all the sleeping quarters. Inside, was a massive library, with floor to ceiling bookcases and a rolling ladder to reach to topmost books. It was huge, and there were multiple reading chairs and even a window seat to read on, and Mark gaped as he took it in. The interior was all dark wood, and polished to sparkle. Some books were massive, leather bound and so worn the covers and pages were nearly falling apart.

“Some of these books have been with me my whole life, love. A few are old family history books, and ancient texts from when I was growing up in Osaka.” Yuta began, and Mark looked at him, paying rapt attention to something Yuta was so obviously passionate about. This may be the first time he’s talked to someone in years, Mark thinks sadly.

“This bookcase here,” Yuta continues, taking Mark to a bookcase that was not yet full of books, and Mark realises they’re not books, but photo albums. Yuta pulled one out gently, labelled 1924, and turned to a random page. Pressed flowers were displayed on each page, and as Yuta flicked to different pages, he realised Yuta keeps every bunch of flowers he’s ever received, and presses them all to fill an album for that year. Mark looks for his year – 2020 – but only sees the one from the previous year. “This bookcase means the most to me. It reminds me that there are living people out there, who still remember my name, and care enough to come bring me flowers. There are generations worth of gifts for me here, and it helps me keep track of the years. I can remember who gave me which bundle of flowers, like for example.”

He put that album away, before pointing to one a few rows down, “1986. Susan Montgomery gave me a bundle of wildflowers that year. Even at 76, she always used to tend to the weeds around the fences, before she passed away a few years ago.” Mark reached out and took hold of Yuta’s hand again, squeezing it tightly for a second and Yuta gave him such a brilliant smile.

“I’m pressing the flowers you gave me, of course. I hope we can put them in an album together, when they’re ready!” He had perked up again, and Mark grinned.

“Yeah! That will be really fun!” Mark agreed, and the two of them kept talking in the library for the remainder of the night, and Mark once again texted his mum that morning – who he knew was at work – that he was sleeping over Renjun’s house that night. Renjun, who called him while he was on the way to the Manor, had made Mark confess to what he was up to, and agreed to being Mark’s scape goat.

“Get that vampire dick, Mark!” Renjun had said, and Mark huffed before he hung up on a cackling Renjun.

Now, Mark was once again in the soft white button down sleep shirt, and was crawling into the bed. He was extremely relaxed, and wanted to sleep the moment his head hit the pillow. Yet, his monkey brain decided to kick in. His mind drifted to thoughts of Yuta, and his pretty blonde hair, and his sharp eyes, his fangs, and Mark couldn’t help but feel want swirl deep in his belly.

He rolled over and tried to make himself sleep, but it made the pressure on his growing hardness even worse. Mark whined into his hand, muffled, and rocked into nothing.

Shifting, he pulled a pillow between his legs, against his length, and let out a soft breath, his hips rutting against the pillow. He allowed his mind to wander, imagining he was humping Yuta’s thigh instead of his pillow, and he suppressed a groan. He was needy, rutting messy and clumsy as he thought of Yuta’s hands, firm and guiding his hips, helping him rut against his leather-clad thigh, and the thought alone made Mark’s hips stutter.

He wanted more, he wanted Yuta’s hands on him, wanted his mouth on his length, the barely-there graze of his fangs, and the thought of that made Mark groan audibly, barely suppressed, as he imaged Yuta sinking his teeth in – into his thighs, hips, chest, neck. Mark knew he’d let Yuta bite him anywhere, anything to feel the piercing of his teeth into the fleshy parts of his body.

Mark ground his hips faster, speeding up and he reached back to rub a finger along the rim of his hole over his underwear, and he came, his body going taught, his hands clenching the pillow to himself tighter, spilling in his underwear and convulsing as he came harder than ever.

Panting, he stumbled out of the bed like a newborn deer and went to the bathroom. He quickly cleaned himself up and stumbled back to the bed in the dark and crawled in, too satiated to realise Yuta was perfectly able to hear the entire thing.

*****

Mark awoke, sitting up and checking his phone. Half past five in the evening. Mark got up and padded out of his room, wondering down to the kitchen and opening the fridge. He was surprised to see so much food considering who lives here, but he shrugged and opened the orange juice, hunting around the kitchen for glasses to put some in, before he heard a startled gasp from behind him. There stood Yuta, in soft black silk pyjamas and his hair pulled up into a ponytail, the shorter hairs falling down at the back. They stood and took each other in for a moment, and Mark realises a little too late what he’s wearing, before he flushed with embarrassment. He had been bent over looking for glasses when Yuta came in, and he assumes Yuta saw his behind judging by the sheepish look on his face.

“Hey, good morn- good evening.” Mark willed out, and Yuta seemed to jump out of his stupor, going to stand on the other side of the kitchen, away from Mark. Seemingly in a form of self-restraint.

Mark wanted to see how far he could push this.

“Good evening.” Yuta’s voice was deep, gravelly, and Mark suppressed a shudder, before turning to look in the kitchen.

“Where are your glasses? I really want orange juice.” Mark asked, and Yuta pointed to one of the overhead cupboard behind Mark’s head.

“Thanks,” Mark grins, and opens the doors to the cupboard. The normal glasses were a couple shelves up, and he stood up on his tiptoes, shirt rising up his back and exposing his underwear even more, as he struggled to grip the glass.

He felt a gush of wind, and Yuta was right behind him, pressed faintly up against his back, hand ghosting above his and grasping a glass before handing it to Mark’s outstretched hand.

Mark turns to say thanks but Yuta’s already gone, and Mark frowns, pouring himself a glass and trying not to think about the soft press of Yuta’s hardness against Mark’s lower back.

As he’s drinking his juice, his phone vibrates on the counter from where he brought it down with him, and he thinks he’s seeing things when he sees it’s from Yuta.

Sorry Mark, I’m not feeling well. Feel free to leave if you like.

Mark frowns, knowing Yuta doesn’t just get sick. He’s immortal. So Mark decides to check on him, just in case. He pauses outside Yuta’s room, and knocks, calling out the vampire’s name softly.

Yuta calls out to him, saying he can come in, and he opens the door, taking in Yuta’s room. It was dark, lots of dark woods and colours. The bed was covered in black silk sheets and a deep purple quilt was thrown at the end of the bed, and there was Yuta, sitting with his back to Mark and looking out the large window. The heavy curtains were pulled back, and Yuta was looking out into the dark tree line.

“Hey, are you alright?” Mark asks softly, coming around the side of the bed.

Yuta looked up at him, and Mark could see the clear desperation on his face.

“I’m- I’m fine, Mark,” He took a deep breath, “You can sit down.”

Mark took a seat next to Yuta, looking at him quizzingly. Yuta took this as a sign to continue.

“I heard you last night, Mark. When we went to bed.” He sighed, looking sad to even admit it. Mark flushed again, and nodded, not really surprised.

“I’m sorry, it was really inappropriate of me,” Mark whispered, and Yuta looked up at him, alarmed.

“No, Mark. It wasn’t. It’s a basic human urge. I get it. I just… I don’t think I can stop myself with you.” He sounded sad, and Mark looked at him, and met Yuta’s eyes. His eyes were less red, blackened and darker than when they first saw each other.

“Fuck, Mark, my love, can I kiss you?” Yuta burst out, eyes pleading, and Mark had half a mind to nod before Yuta leaned in and kissed him deeply, hands coming up to hold Mark in place, hands cupping his jaw like gentle china.

Mark sucked in a deep breath through his nose, before sinking into the feeling. Yuta’s lips were cool and smooth against his own warm chapped ones, and his own hands came up to rest on Yuta’s thighs. He let his hands feel up and down the strong legs, and moaned softly into the kiss. Yuta’s hands were pulling on Mark’s hair now, and Mark opened his mouth on a whine and that seemed like Yuta’s invitation to putting his tongue in Mark’s mouth.

His tongue was cool too, like the rest of him, and they kissed like that for a beat longer, before Mark heard a whooshing in his ears and he felt his back hit the bed. Yuta had lifted him so easily and put him on his back that it made Mark’s need grow low in his stomach, and Yuta was quick to hover over Mark, his lips coming down onto Mark’s again. From this angle, Mark had a lot more body to explore, so he let his hands roam over the torso above him, his hands clumsy and needy, pulling at the silk pyjama shirt and whining into the kiss. Yuta chuckled and pulled back, his hands coming up to pull his shirt off, and Mark whined out loud at this point.

Yuta was all hard planes and chiselled muscles, a softly defined abdomen and smooth, blemish-free pale skin. Mark’s mouth watered, he wanted to taste every inch of his body, before Yuta grinned down at him, and Mark felt a pang run down him when he saw Yuta’s fangs had grown out slightly longer.

Yuta seemed not to notice – or care – and kissed down Mark’s neck, and he paused on Mark’s jugular, taking in a deep breath, before he continued down Mark’s body. He grunted before he grabbed Mark’s sleep shirt and ripped it apart, buttons flying off, and kissed down Mark’s body. He sucked deep purple marks into his skin, where no one but Yuta and Mark could see, and Mark curved up into the touch.

“So pretty, my love. My light,” Yuta said softly, the words tickling Mark’s skin, and he accepts Yuta’s kiss as he makes his way back up Mark’s body.

Yuta slips a leg between both of Mark’s, and he pauses, before he grins, all fangs, down at Mark.

“Use me to get off, baby. Like you did last night.” He spoke, voice deep and almost menacing, and its like Yuta just knows what gets under Mark’s skin the most.

Mark wastes no time, grabbing Yuta’s hips and pulling him down as he thrusts up, and he groans throatily at the sensation. Mark was already so on edge, it won’t take long for him to burst. Especially not with Yuta talking dirty in his ear, kissing along his neck and ears.

“You’re all mine aren’t you, my love? Such a good boy for me, so precious. Love the way you moan for me, baby.”

The constant stream of talk and praise in his ear, coupled with his hard length rubbing against Yuta’s thigh, made Mark let out a scream as he came, hips stuttering as he once again soiled his underwear. Yuta talked him through his orgasm, petting Mark’s hair and helping him come down.

“How are you feeling, love?” Yuta asked softly, once Mark had regained his breath. He let out a breathless chuckle, and he felt his eyes flutter shut, and before he knew it – he was asleep.

*****

Not the first time, Mark woke up in his own bed after falling asleep at Yuta’s and he cursed himself this time. He left Yuta with blue balls, if the hardness that was against his hip the entire time was anything to go by.

Mark got up, cringed at the feeling between his legs, and practically waddled to the bathroom, stripped off his clothes and turning on the shower. The warm stream was enough to make him feel clean again, but it reminded him of the stark coldness that was Yuta’s touch, and Mark was yearning again. Yearning for his touch, his mouth, his hands. Everything.

He walked back to his room, clean and wrapped in a towel, to see a letter on his nightstand again. He must have missed it when he woke up.

Mark once again carefully opened the wax seal, and his face filled with heat when he read the words on the paper.

In fountain ink and beautiful cursive read:

My beloved Mark,

I brought you back home as I’m afraid I kept you too long, and I didn’t want anyone to grow suspicious. I hope you enjoyed last night’s activities as much as me, and I certainly cannot wait to do it again some time.

Next time, my starlight, I know I won’t have to hold back now that you’re mine.

Yours truly and with love,

Yuta.

Mark was stunned, and his hands were shaking a little. Somehow, Yuta had awoken some type of insatiable beast inside Mark, and he was playing Mark like a violin. How did Yuta know Mark better than he knew himself?

It was still fairly early in the morning, so Mark got to work. He busied himself with cleaning his room and picking out something to wear for tonight. After that, he decided to take another nap – to pass the time and to make sure he was well rested for tonight. Mark had nervous jitters, even as he made his way back to the Manor, now used to maneuvering around the overgrown garden. He let himself in without knocking this time, and he knew Yuta was probably still asleep – it was barely five in the evening.

Mark kept pacing the kitchen, grabbing more orange juice and letting his mind wander, as there was a constant swirl of arousal in his abdomen that grew with every passing minute.

A soft sigh made him look up, and he met eyes with Yuta, who was watching him from the doorway. His mind flashed back to yesterday when they were almost exactly like this, but everything is different this time.

Yuta was on him in an instant, crowding him up against the counter with his hands on his hips, kissing him in greeting.

“Hi,” Mark whispered, looking up at Yuta, eyes shining.

“Hi, my love,” Yuta replied, soft smile on his face, hand coming up to brush back Mark’s fringe.

“I was planning some kind of speech about how much I like you, but I kind of just want to get on my knees and suck you off.” Mark confessed, and Yuta groaned, making sure Mark was being serious.

“Are you sure, baby?” He asked, and Mark nodded, his eyes going dark and he dropped to his knees, his eyes on the bulge in Yuta’s sleep pants.

Yuta is looking down at him, his eyes lidded and attentive, wanting to take in everything Mark does. Mark wastes no time in pulling Yuta’s pants down, his length rising up and Mark appreciates it with his eyes for a bit, before bringing his hands up to stroke it softly. Yuta groans, his hands clutching the counter in front of him, obviously too afraid to touch Mark when he’s on edge.

“So pretty,” Mark murmurs, more to himself, before he takes Yuta into his mouth, his lips sealing around the head, the warmth and wet heat making Yuta buck a little, sending him a little further into Mark’s mouth. Mark groans at that, slicking his hand up with spit and using it to jack Yuta off, making the slide easier as he goes to take him into his mouth again, this time taking a bit more each time he goes down on him, fitting at least half in his mouth and jerking off what he cant reach. Mark is in euphoria, with the heavy weight on his tongue and the salty taste in his mouth, he couldn’t be better. He’s not had many chances to practice sucking dick in his life, but he’s practiced on a few dick-shaped items. But nothing compares to the real thing. Yuta was warm – something that was almost weird, since Mark was warming him up with his mouth – and was so hard inside his mouth. Mark didn’t let up his motions, and moved a hand to Yuta’s hips to try and prompt him to shallowly thrust into Mark’s mouth.

Yuta was coming apart, broken moans leaving his lips, hair falling over his forehead and what looked like perspiration on his forehead. Yuta got the idea, and thrusted softly into Mark’s mouth, noting Mark’s limits and met Mark’s rhythm easily.

He was on his edge quickly, and pulled back completely from Mark’s mouth, as he tongued his slit.

“Why’d you stop?” Mark whined, and tried to lean forward for more, and Yuta chuckled, pulling Mark up to stand.

His knees cracked as he stood and he winced, making Yuta grin, before he grabbed Mark up in his arms and once again with the whooshing in his ears, they were in Yuta’s room, and was being laid back on the bed. Yuta had shucked off his own shirt but pulled up his pants back over his length, and dived onto Mark to divest him of his clothes. Mark was left naked on the bed, and Yuta took him in appreciatively.

Mark, so pretty, small and pale, was beautiful against his black silk sheets. His eyes shone with unshed tears, needy for stimulation and nearly crying from being deprived. His teeth were worrying his bottom lip, and he was flushed from his face down to his chest, his nipples stiff and pink and inviting. Yuta couldn’t wait to get his mouth and hands on them.

Mark was writhing on the bed, his hips jutting up into the air, and Yuta looked down. Mark’s cock was an angry red, his eyes taking in his soft hips and delicious thighs, and he couldn’t stand and watch any longer.

He practically dived on Mark, licking into his mouth, swallowing all the moans and noises he makes, and kisses down his chest and body again. The marks were mixtures of reds and purples, splotched along his chest and further down, a physical claim from Yuta. It made his need even stronger, and he wanted to consume Mark.

Yuta leaned down, taking Mark’s cock into his mouth without preamble, who was so sensitive and needy he knew he wasn’t going to last very long. His hands were wound in Yuta’s hair, his body writhing on the mattress as he fought to keep his moans low, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

It was when he was brought to orgasm, that he accidentally split his lip, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth as he bucked into Yuta’s mouth, spilling down his throat and holding tight onto his hair.

Yuta let Mark out of his mouth, and Mark blinked through his tears to see Yuta’s eyes go red for a second, before Yuta was kissing him, almost breathlessly.

He was panting into Mark’s mouth, and Mark struggled to keep up in his post-orgasm haze. Yuta latched onto Mark’s bottom lip, and Mark realised Yuta was taking what he could of Mark’s blood from his split lip. The realisation made Mark whine, hands holding Yuta’s head in place once again, as Yuta suckled on Mark’s lip, tongue coming out to swipe at the sensitive skin every so often. Pulling back Yuta looked crazed, his eyes red and hair sticking up from Mark’s grip.

“Mark, my lovely, you taste so sweet. I’m hardly surprised.” Yuta says, and it verges on being sinister, except for the soft caresses on his face.

“Please, more. Yuta, please.” Mark whines, already growing hard again, and Yuta grins, leaning down for a proper kiss.

“As you wish, my beloved.”

He reaches for the nightstand, pulling out a bottle of some lotion, and coats a couple of fingers with it. Mark was almost boneless, but needy enough to squirm on the bed, his neediness making him rut up against Yuta, much like last night.

Yuta grinned, this time fangs extended almost fully, and reached down between Mark’s spread legs. He circled Mark’s rim a few times, before he pushed a finger in. It went in easily, the slide smooth, and Yuta looked up at Mark, to see him watching Yuta.

“Fingered myself easier, in the shower. Thinking of you,” he confessed, and Yuta blanked for a moment, taken by how hot that visual was, before he began moving the one finger inside him, keeping up a moderate pace before pushing in the second, and pushing in to the last knuckle.

“Fuck, that feels good, Yuta. So good, so deep,” Mark moaned out, back arching again as he tried to get Yuta to hit that spot inside him. Yuta kept up the same pace, wanting to stretch Mark out and also make him feel good.

He did a bit more gentle prodding around, and felt something slightly different and decided to rub that – and it made Mark light up like a Christmas tree. He pushed back onto Yuta’s fingers, his mouth letting out a series of moans and his eyes clenching shut, tears falling from his eyes as he cries from the stimulation.

“Fuck, Yuta, fuck right there!” Mark says around a moan, and who is Yuta to deny such a pleasure?

He continues to rub it, enjoying all the sounds and visuals Mark is producing, and Yuta finds himself staring once again, taking in all of Mark. His cock was hard and red once again, precome leaking out onto his stomach.

“More, Yuta, need you now,” Mark moaned, opening his eyes to see Yuta. Yuta nodded, pulling his fingers out and pulling his pants down, finally getting both of them naked. He lubed himself up quickly, wanting to feel Mark as soon as he can.

He held Mark’s thighs in his hands, spreading them apart and settling on his knees between them. Yuta held his breath as he pushed the head of his cock into Mark’s hole, finally letting out a shaky exhale as he bottomed out into Mark’s wet warmth. Mark wasn’t much better – his mouth was open on a silent moan, his back arched and arms fisting the sheeting around him. He is beautiful, Yuta thinks, a pure work of art without knowing it.

Yuta was perfectly enamoured by Mark, and as he began shallowly thrusting into his heat, he couldn’t help the praises falling from his lips.

“God, Mark. You are so perfect for me, so pretty. Beautiful, Mark. You feel so good,” he gritted out, his hands encasing Mark’s hips to control him a bit more, his thrusts speeding up. He was slowly losing his mind, Mark felt, looked and sounded so good, it was enough to make him want to bust already.

Mark was gasping on every stuttered breath, his body moving with every thrust and he groaned as he felt Yuta’s cock graze his prostate.

“Feels so good,” Mark groaned out, and Yuta leaned down to take one of Mark’s nipples into his mouth, careful with his teeth, and Mark groaned, feeling those fangs on his skin. Yuta was thrusting harder, and by leaning forward he was hitting a new angle, and pressing on Mark’s prostate the majority of the time.

Mark dropped his head back against the mattress, and who was Yuta to deny such an invitation. He kissed messily at Mark’s neck, feeling his pulse racing in his jugular as his tongue flitted across the skin, and Yuta felt the hand come up and hold his head there.

“Bite me, Yuta. Please. Bite me.” Mark begged, his voice clearer now than it has been since they started. Yuta was startled and leaned back to see Mark’s face, and saw how sure he was. Yuta had slowed down to a slower pace, letting Mark think for a moment.

“Are you sure, my love?” Yuta asked, and it was no question. Mark was as sure as he ever was. Nodding, Mark let out a bunch of pleas, before shushing Mark with a quick kiss.

He leant back down into Mark’s neck, letting his fangs extend as much as they could, his hips now rutting messily into Mark’s body, his lower body rubbing against Mark’s cock.

He could feel Mark closing in on his orgasm, and once he was right on the edge, he bit into Mark’s neck, easily piercing the soft skin and the blood filled his mouth. Pulling back his fangs, he sucked on the punctures and groaned around each mouthful, savouring the hot blood.

As soon as the blood exploded on Yuta’s tongue, Mark spurted his come into both of their bodies, his body tightening around Yuta, who was still shallowly thrusting into Mark. After a few more seconds, Yuta pulled away, licking at Mark’s wound to seal it and leaning up to see Mark’s face. His eyes had practically rolled back into his head, and there was drool on his chin.

Yuta softly kissed his cheek, and Mark blinked, looking up at him.

“Come inside me, Yuta, please,” Mark whispered, and that was all the invitation Yuta needed before he thrusted hard once, twice and three times before he let himself go deep inside Mark, holding Mark against him as he did so, cuddling him and whispering words of praise to him in the meanwhile.

As they both came down from their highs, he manoeuvres Mark so he’s still inside him, but so Mark is lying on his chest comfortably.

Mark was drifting in and out of sleep, and just before he slept, he stared Yuta in the eyes and smiled, “Forever, let’s be together forever.”

As Mark fell asleep, Yuta smiled, stroking Mark’s sweat-matted hair, and agreed,

“Forever.”