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Since they had started dating, Vincent had known it was only a matter of time before they went on a hunt together. They both craved to see the other in action; and yearned to show off their own deadly skills to an appreciative audience.
So here they were now, in a damp and poorly lit hangar, breathless and covered in blood, surrounded by half a dozen corpses. They’d really gone over the top with the amount of victims in a single night, but Vincent had wanted to impress Alastor, and they’d handled it very efficiently.
Vincent's suit was ruined for sure, but he didn't pay attention to it as the adrenaline of the kills coursed through his veins. Now that he had finished dealing with his third mark — with quite a bit of panache, in his humble opinion — his eyes were fully on his colleague and now partner-in-crime, who was visibly enjoying shredding his last victim’s body to pieces.
Alastor was a sight beyond Vincent’s wildest wet dreams. The younger man didn’t just enjoy taking lives; he was basking in the bloodbath like it was fucking Christmas. Using his axe and hands, he’d ripped open the ribcage of his unfortunate victim, dug through muscles and bones, and taken the still-warm heart as his prize. The way Alastor was staring hungrily at the crimson organ, holding it so close to his face he could almost lick it, Vincent almost expected the radio host to actually bite into it and savor like it was the most delicious steak. That unexpected stray thought did nothing to abate Vincent's hard-on, which he'd been sporting since Alastor had struck his axe straight through the body of their first mark, spilling blood and gore everywhere.
Whether Alastor was actually into eating fresh hearts though, Vincent wouldn't learn that night as the younger man let go of the organ after a few moments, placing it delicately on top of the mangled corpse. Finally, he turned his eyes to the TV star.
Vincent felt a bit self-conscious now that he had Alastor's full attention. A quick look at himself told him that his suit was ripped in places, and stained with red splatters. His disheveled appearance was nothing compared to Alastor's, though. There was so much blood and viscera on the other man's clothes and face, he was almost dripping with it. He'd gone up close and personal with all his victims, mowing through them with his axe, slashing, maiming and spilling guts all over the floor — before he finished them off with a gleeful smile. A very different method from Vincent's own. He himself liked to diversify his murders, using a wide variety of tools and adding a touch of sensational whenever possible. But damn, it had been so mesmerizing to watch Al's unleashed savagery. Intense and beautiful, almost surreal. The man had turned violence into an art of sort. Vincent knew the images would live rent-free in his head for the rest of his life, and would undoubtedly fuel brand new wet dreams at night.
And now, the man he'd been fantasizing about since he first heard his voice on the radio was staring straight at him, with a fast breath and a ravenous smile. He looked just as hungry as he had before they started their little massacre, if not more. Vincent tugged a bit on his sleeves to adjust what was left of his suit. He smiled back at Alastor, hoping that he, too, looked quite the sight with one body hanging from the ceiling just above him (the hoist cables in the hangar had been most useful), and another still on his knees before him like in silent prayer — though his throat had been neatly cut and all his blood had spilled out of him. Vincent had taken care to finish off these poor folks right where moonlight illuminated the hangar through the roof’s window, so he knew the soft light was adding an additional dramatic effect to his display.
His third victim laid in a darker corner of the room. He had electrocuted the poor soul first, in a burst of blazing light and flying sparks. He knew Alastor had seen it all, even as he was dismembering his own preys at the same time.
Vincent had never killed with a willing audience before, and it felt exhilarating. Especially when Alastor was now looking so intensely at him. The radio host was not easily impressed, so every sliver of appreciation felt like an achievement.
They stayed silent for a minute, catching their breath, taking in the moment. The macabre scene around them was a true work of art. A vision of horror for most people, but all Vincent saw was a masterful demonstration of skill and passion.
"I hope the cops take good photos of our work," Vincent commented, to break the silence.
Alastor raised an eyebrow. "How does it matter? They wouldn't share such photographs with the press."
"I have contacts", the TV star winked. "I could get you a copy too, if you'd like. A souvenir of our first kills together?"
"I didn't realize you were the sentimental kind."
Vincent thought he would love to have a photo of Alastor, too. The radio host avoided showing his face to the cameras, but maybe Vincent could convince him otherwise, just once?
A small movement to Vincent's left caught their attention. One of the poor bastards was apparently still alive (barely), despite having a foot cut off and most of his guts on his pants.
"Aha! We have a tough one!", Alastor beamed. He retrieved a folding knife from a pocket and presented it to Vincent. "Together?"
Vincent nodded. They walked to the man lying on the ground, and kneeled on either side of him. Up close, Alastor looked even more divine. Just like Vincent had imagined, his angelic face was the prettiest when streaked with blood. He felt his groin heat up even more. He shifted a bit in his position, hoping to reduce his discomfort in the too-tight fabric of his pants, but it didn’t really help.
The younger man held the knife between them as an invitation, and Vincent closed his hand around the hilt, his fingers touching Alastor's wet and sticky gloves. He really wished he could feel Alastor’s skin against his own instead. Their eyes locked together as they plunged the dagger in the faintly beating heart in a slow movement that felt more erotic than it had any rights to.
Vincent held his breath for a moment. And then finally they were kissing, their lips crashing together over the dead body with a hunger that felt almost desperate. Vincent tried to lead the kiss but was quickly taken over by Alastor's startling intensity. It felt like the radio host was devouring his mouth, intending to leave no crumbs behind. Like every inch his tongue could reach was being tasted and savored. Vincent let himself be submerged, enjoying every second of it.
They kept kissing sloppily as Alastor pulled the two of them up. Vincent was pushed a few steps back until his back hit the wall. They broke apart to get some air, and Alastor started sucking on his lower lip. The TV star grabbed the younger man by the waist to pull him closer. He was quickly getting intoxicated by Al's closeness and his heavenly scent mixed with the stench of gore covering him.
Just as he was getting desperate to get some friction against his painful erection, Alastor cleverly pressed his leg between Vincent's upper thighs. He let out a loud sigh of relief. Shamefully, Vincent rolled his hips a few times against Alastor’s leg, the pressure sending sparks of pleasure through his veins.
Vincent didn't want to let the other man do all the work, though. He had to try and get back the upper hand. He lowered his hand to Alastor's crotch and pressed there, hoping to elicit a moan from him. Except... Alastor wasn't hard at all, he realized in confusion. Startled, he drew back from the kiss to stare at the other man’s face. Had he read this entire situation wrong? He had really hoped he was having as much effect on Alastor as the other way around.
"Do not worry, Vincent", Alastor soothed him, as if he was reading his mind. "I am just as starved for you as you seem to be for me."
A glint of danger flickered in his eyes. "My hunger just lies… elsewhere."
To punctuate that, Alastor removed Vincent's hand from his crotch and put it back on his waist instead.
"I see", Vincent replied though he wasn’t sure he did. It was hard to think with Alastor so close and all his blood flowing to his dick. And how was his waist so thin?! Vincent hands could wrap so easily around it. It was unbearably hot.
The radio host slowly ran the tip of his tongue over his teeth, drawing his attention back to his face. Not for the first time, Vincent noticed how pointy and sharp Alastor's canines were. Despite his soft angelic face and lithe body, there was no denying the man in front of him was a predator — just like him.
"Do not worry about my... nether parts. I'm happy to help you with your own, ah, cravings though". A pressure of his thigh against Vincent's erection illustrated his proposal. "If you would let me indulge in my own?"
Vincent breathed heavily, his body humming with need.
"And what would that entail, exactly?", he forced himself to ask. He doubted there was anything Alastor could ask of him right now that he would refuse.
Alastor did not answer immediately. Instead, he bit on the tip of his right glove and tugged it off, then did the same with the other. With slow, deliberate movements, he pulled on Vincent's bowtie to loosen the knot until it gave. His long fingers went on to unbutton his vest and his dress shirt, until his pale chest was exposed. A shiver ran through Vincent, though he couldn't say if it was due to the chill air of the night or the avid look in Alastor's brown eyes.
"Tu as l'air... délicieux", Alastor said in french, with a soft caress of fingers on Vincent's bare skin. "All I'm asking for", he continued in english, "is a little taste." His eyes searched Vincent's. "Will you let me?"
Vincent still wasn't sure exactly what the other man meant. But he was way past caring. He craved everything Alastor wished to do to him — and more. Hell, for all he knew, Alastor had been planning to murder him from the start and wanted to eat his corpse after. It was kind of hot not to know for sure.
"Do your worst", he answered, hoping it sounded more like an invitation than begging.
Alastor's grin widened.
"Then we have a deal."
At once, Alastor was all over him, sucking on his neck with abandon as one of his hands went to open his trousers. It wasn't long before Vincent's cock was freed of all the fabric, and he couldn't stop a moan when Alastor's fingers finally closed around it. All he could do was grip Alastor's clothes as the other man started fondling his member and giving it a few firm strokes. Alastor's tongue licked along his jaw, then moved up to his cheeks, his temples... Vincent realized that his partner-in-crime wasn't just getting a taste of his skin — he was licking off the blood smeared across his face from the man whose throat he’d just slit. And he clearly enjoyed it, from the cute appreciative sounds he made as he swallowed.
Vincent felt his cock throb as Alastor used his precum to slick his hand and spread it over the length of his shaft. He tilted his head to capture Alastor’s mouth with his own. Their tongues brushed together, but only for a brief, teasing moment before Alastor drifted downwards, leaving a trail of kisses down to the base of Vincent’s neck. He started worrying the skin just above his collarbone with his teeth. Vincent's head fell back and let some breathy moans escape him. Alastor had started stroking him with a slow but steady rhythm that felt heavenly. A fog of lust and bliss was starting to shroud his brain... until a sudden pang of pain flared through his nerves.
In a knee-jerked reaction, he pushed Alastor away from his neck. That bastard had bit him!
As he searched the other man's face, he was met with a cocky grin and ravenous, sparkling eyes. Alastor’s teeth were now covered in Vincent’s own blood — and he licked it off with a sound of unmistakable pleasure. The man was clearly even more deranged than Vincent had thought. He’d always welcomed some playful biting during sex, but this was another level. Alastor had sunk his teeth in with enough force to pierce Vincent’s flesh down to the muscles. It hurt like hell.
But Vincent realized he wasn't angry nor repulsed — in fact, the gruesome display only aroused him more. And the radio host looked entirely unrepentant and unfazed. In fact, he hadn't even stopped stroking Vincent's cock as he waited for him to decide whether he could continue.
"Fuck", Vincent let out breathlessly, giving up any shred of dignity he might have had left. "Do that again", he pleaded, pulling Alastor's face back against his wounded flesh.
Alastor hummed with satisfaction as sucked greedily on the the older man's blood, savoring it like it was fine wine.
"Let me hear your voice," Vincent pleaded.
He'd fantasized so often about Alastor touching him while listening to his radio show. Now finally it was happening, and he really wanted to hear his deep, mesmerizing voice again.
"Hmm, you like listening to me don't you?" Alastor indulged him. "Then let me tell you how delicious you taste, my dear. I've been dreaming about this for some time now. Your warm, willing blood on my tongue." His tongue traced a line below Vincent's collarbone. "Your pale, soft flesh under my teeth." He bit hard once again, this time on Vincent's pectoral muscle. The pain sent a jolt of pleasure straight to his groin. "And you're all mine, aren't you? I could devour you whole, and I bet you'd let me", he added before piercing his skin again, right above Vincent's nipple. Blood was now spilling all over his chest, with Alastor chasing every drop with his mouth.
Enthralled, Vincent found himself unable to contradict that last statement. He'd always thought himself at the top of the food chain, but Alastor had upended his entire world in more ways than one. Now he was probably losing a lot more blood than was safe, but all he could think of was how much he needed Alastor to stroke his cock faster.
He jerked his hips against Alastor's fist, trying to increase the pace. The other man seemed to get the message, and his clever fingers gripping him harder and in a quick rhythm.
"I do hope I am doing a decent job down there. I am hardly an expert at these things", Alastor admitted.
Vincent almost choked on a laugh. He had never felt this good in his entire life.
"You're… doing great...", he managed to let out between shaky breaths. "Fuck, Al, I'm getting close."
Alastor's lips and teeth were back on him, worrying at his wounds, nibbling on his flesh. There was pain, but the pleasure Vincent felt overrode everything else. Though he was certain it would hurt like hell after. Maybe it would even scar. And if the two of them kept having encounters like this one (which Vincent really hoped they would), would his body eventually be marred all over with scars left by Alastor's teeth? The idea only aroused him more. He wanted it. Alastor's violence. His depraved hunger and possessiveness. All of it, just for himself, branding his body irreversibly.
He dug his nails as hard as he could into Alastor's back, hoping to leave his own mark on the other man too. Alastor's tongue was now licking his throat, right over his carotid. A deep enough bite there could potentially be fatal. Vincent was aware of this, and yet he drew his head back to give Alastor better access. He could feel his own hammering heartbeat as Alastor sucked hard on his pulse point.
"Al…"
Heat was building in his veins to the point of bursting. The thrusts of his hips were starting to get erratic, but the other man had a strong hold on him and didn't falter in his punishing pace. Everything was too overwhelming, the wonderful hand on his cock and the smell of blood permeating around them, the acute pain where Alastor had abused his flesh and the soothing caress of his tongue… Vincent realized he had been biting his lower lip to try and repress moans, and he could now feel the coppery tang of his own blood on his tongue. He lowered his head to catch Alastor's lips in a desperate kiss. Immediately, he felt the other man shudder as his tongue ran over Vincent's bruised lips and chased every trace of blood deep inside his mouth.
A few more strokes and Vincent was coming with a ragged gasp, his entire body shaking hard as he spilled his load into Alastor's hand. He held on to the other man like a drowning man as his orgasm ripped through him like a storm. Alastor kept stroking him until every bit of cum had left his balls, leaving him completely spent and boneless.
Feeling his legs giving out, he sagged against the younger man, who gently helped him down to the floor. They were both panting heavily, breathing each other's air. They said nothing for a while, just enjoying the moment. Vincent wished he could just keep admiring Alastor's blood-streaked face forever, but he felt a sudden drowsiness settling over him, and it was becoming hard to keep his eyes open.
Alastor placed a chaste kiss on his lips.
"Thank you for the meal, honey."
"You really are a sick bastard", he replied tiredly, but there was no bite to it. No matter how much it would hurt the next few days, it had been worth it.
"And you're a feast. I might ask for seconds", Alastor teased, and Vincent was ashamed to feel his already spent cock twitch at that. Fuck, he was even more messed up than he thought.
Alastor didn't seem to intend taking anymore from him that night, though. Instead, he went to retrieve a first-aid kit from his satchel — he'd come prepared! — and started cleaning up Vincent's wounds. The disinfectant hurt like a bitch, but with the lingering bliss still coursing through his veins and the exhaustion caused by his rather significant blood loss, he didn't have the energy to complain.
He lost track of time for a bit as the radio host bandaged him up. It felt nice to be taken care of like this, especially by Alastor. He wouldn't have minded falling asleep right here and there, with the soft caress of Alastor's fingers on him… if they hadn't still been in the middle of a crime scene.
"I'm not sure I can walk." He forced his eyes open to cast a hopeful glance at Alastor. "Will you carry me home?"
The other man let out a short laugh. "Never going to happen."
"But it's your fault! You fucking drained me dry."
"Hmm. Am I supposed to care?" Alastor raised an eyebrow.
"So what, you would just leave me here? After patching me up so nicely?" he pouted. "Surely you don't want the police finding me passed out in here."
"Now that would be quite the entertainment," Alastor laughed again.
His gestures weren't as harsh as his words, though. He ruffled Vincent's hair, and a more tender smile softened his face.
"You'd look quite the sight. Such a pretty thing, in the middle of our little macabre display."
Craving more of Alastor's touch, Vincent leaned against him, resting his head on the other man's shoulder.
"I'd rat you out to save my skin."
Alastor kept stroking his hair. "Then maybe I should just kill you here and now. Save me the trouble."
"But you won't," Vincent knew.
He let his eyes close and he felt the soft embrace of sleep envelop him.
"Because you find me delicious."