TW: Vampire!Sips, Smuut

Title: ~A Case Of You~

You are in my blood like holy wine

You taste so bitter and so sweet

It was the same every time. They said the same lines, fought the same fight but in the end, they would always end up in that godforsaken room with those godforsaken iron chains, afraid of the way fear rested on their shoulders but unable to stop whatever it was that kept pushing them forward into moments like these.

Because despite his dire attempts to convince himself that he was just doing this for Sips, to keep a friend alive, they both knew that in some sinister way, it was just the same the other way around.

I'm frightened by the devil

And I'm drawn to those ones that ain’t afraid

“You know, Silkshirt,” Sips said with a spiteful grin on his face, “one day, you’re might not even live to regret this. That’ll be something, huh?”

“Shut up,” Xephos replied, his back turned to the pale man that he knew was eyeing him up as he was taking off his shirt with as much dignity as he could muster. “You’re starting to sound like a broken record.”

“Aw, you’re making me blush.”

Always the same fight, the same useless bantering that would cease the moment he turned around and looked the other man in the eye. Always the same ritual that they clung to, an excuse they held on to because everything was better than sitting down and talking about what they were doing.

Xephos ran a hand through his messy hair and took a deep breath, trying to ready himself as he always did. The lab room was quiet save for the other man’s breathing, silent and unmoving as he waited for Xephos to turn around.

When he did, he had to stop himself from taking a step back. Another thing that never changed. He had always thought that stuff like piercing glances that glued you to the spot and hitched breaths in clenched throats were silly, stupid tropes for people who couldn’t look at the world in a scientific manner. How strange a turn his life had taken, how these things had become something he had started looking forward to before he even noticed the change himself.

Sips was already bound to the wall, his hands in iron manacles that were rusty but never failed their job. They were quiet now, with the man they bound standing still as a statue, but Xephos knew their rattling sound would soon drown out the rushing of his own blood in his ears. The manacles were tight, to the point where it would have been uncomfortable for anyone but him, any other time but now. His feet were bound as well; at one point they had decided that it would be for the best to keep Sips as secure as possible and it had become part of the process. The metal would keep their secrets, anyway.

Xephos swallowed and looked up slowly, dragging his gaze it over the pale man’s chest and neck and finally to his eyes. He already knew it was no use to try and stop the shiver so eager to run its icy fingers down his spine. Sips’ pupils were blown wide already, a promise of things to come; so different from his own blue eyes that glowed in the dark when he could no longer keep his feelings contained. Sips eyes only glowed red sometimes, the warning of a point of no return hastily making its way towards them at a pace they could barely keep up with. Usually, the darkness drowned him before it got that far. That was probably for the best.

The moment stretched out before them as it always did, neither man saying or doing anything in fear of a spell being broken, a thrill wasting away before either of them could catch it. Sips did not move a muscle but Xephos had grown accustomed to the other man’s body, could see the invisible tremors running through him as he tried so hard to contain himself. They had a long night ahead of them, as always. Despite the obvious tension, Sips managed an approximation of his usual sneer as he eyed Xephos up.

“Are you done staring, Silkshirt?”

“Will you ever stop calling me that, Sips?” Xephos sighed in return, stubbornly ignoring the warm feeling in his stomach that should feel so out of place here.

“Ah, but you secretly love it, don’t you?”

He never knew what to say to that.

I remember that time that you told me, you said

Love is touching souls

Surely you touched mine

Cause part of you pours out of me

In these lines from time to time

Quietly, Xephos bridged the distance and felt himself hesitate. Sips eyed him cautiously; he knew perfectly well that Xephos had to be the one to initiate this, this thing they did; that he was the one who determined the when and how of it all. And Xephos knew that he knew. Still, there was something nagging at his thoughts tonight, an evil, quiet voice that whispered fuck it, fuck the rules, fuck the script, what is there to lose? The ritualistic nature of it all kept them both sane; it kept the carefully cultivated distance between them intact. But, as Sips had once said (long before they had fallen into this routine and were still circling around each other like insecure children, feeling out the boundaries): Where’s the fun in that? He’d acquiesced eventually, aware of the risks anything else but this would bring, but somehow it felt wrong to Xephos now.

Xephos decided. Carefully, as if not to startle the man in front of him, he raised both his hands to Sips’ face, a touch so light it almost wasn’t there. He felt Sips still even more, breath held as if they were in a bubble that could burst at any moment. Xephos couldn’t help but smile, then; so there were some things that could surprise Sips, even after all this time. He leaned forward and brushed their lips together, barely a kiss at all, something that could have been ignored or forgotten if they chose to. He stayed there for an infinite moment before he retreated as quietly as he’d approached the other man, dropping his hands to his side – but the smile refused to let go and pulled the corners of his lips upwards in victory.

“Fuck, I didn’t expect that.”

Xephos laughed at that, unable to contain his glee. “Alright, enough sappiness.”

He leaned his head sideways slightly, sticking to the script once more, and shut his eyes. Every ritual has a shitty part and this is ours, he thought to himself. No matter how many times they’d done this, he would never get used to feeling so vulnerable, so exposed. Lab coats were great as protection when working with dangerous substances, but during Xephos’ times in Yoglabs they had become an armour of sorts as well; an image that he liked to wrap around him to protect himself. In this room, on nights like these, the cold, sterile air was free to roam his skin and coax out the goose bumps that never failed to show.

Because there was no barrier to protect his skin now, he felt every inch of Sips’ tongue licking a cold trail from his chest to his jaw, eyes already glazed over (Xephos knew even without looking the way Sips’ face contorted just before, just so, he had seen it so often), eagerness clumsily hidden behind a façade of control.

“Do it.”

So Sips did.

And she said

Go to him, stay with him if you can

but be prepared to bleed

The clichés, Xephos thought to himself, were all annoyingly true in the end: His breath hitched in his throat, an invisible force Sips nailing him to the floor; if his head wasn’t spinning so much, he would roll his eyes at himself for being so hopelessly unoriginal. As it were, it was all he could do to hang on for dear life. Against better judgement he grabbed Sips’ shoulders as firmly as he could, pulling himself closer to the beautiful agony. The pain would never subside like the stories said it would: it was a constant presence that he held on to, because it kept them both tethered to reality in a way that nothing else could. And they needed an anchor in moments like these.

A moan escaped his lips despite his best efforts and he felt Sips actually laugh against his neck, lips pulled away in an expression that he so desperately wanted to hate – but with every passing day, that had become harder and harder. He never would have thought that grin would be something he would try and bring out instead of push away.

He felt the rumbling of Sips quiet laughter echo all the way down to his bones, to the very core of him, and tried to push a little closer still. He would never admit to himself how much he secretly liked this, this almost sacred act of giving life to the man in front of him. Sips growled then, low in his throat, and Xephos threw his head back as he started the scripted slow drag of his groin against the other man, relishing in the feeling of pushing and pulling against one another, blood rushing through his veins in an onslaught of feelings that were never any less overwhelming, any less of a head rush. Tentatively, he decided to deviate from the standard story they had spun countless times before and let one of his hands travel down, further and further, until he felt Sips’ cock harden under his curious fingertips.

Sips drew back then, eyes shut tight, lips curled into a snarl and covered in blood and shit, that should not be hot, that was not a part of the agreement.

“Fuck, Xeph.” 

You are in my blood

like holy wine

Trembling, Xephos pulled back slightly but decided his hand was perfectly fine where it was. When Sips opened his eyes they were glowing red, a testimony of how many lines Xephos had crosses with this simple thing. So small, but he felt in his gut that this could change everything. His own cock seemed to be happy with the deviation.

“Okay?” he asked timidly, suddenly afraid of the answer in a way that was unfamiliar to him. This was the metaphorical abyss and he had rushed towards it so readily, without knowing if the other man would follow him down at all. Suddenly, it was not just his life on the line; it was so much more.

Sips closed his eyes for a moment and licked his lips, head bent back in either ecstasy or frustration – Xephos suddenly couldn’t tell. He waited five seconds, ten, holding his breath until his lungs burned while he prayed for a reaction, any reaction.

Suddenly, Sips’ eyes snapped open and he looked Xephos at Xephos, no longer confused but very, very determined.

“Has someone ever told you that you ask stupid questions, Silkshirt?”

Xephos’ shoulders sagged in relief and he went in for another kiss, because now that the boundaries were gone, he could have it all for as long as it lasted. They kissed frantically, desperately, while Xephos fumbled in his pocket for the key to the manacles that still held Sips’ arms up. He searched blindly for the locks and managed to open one of them before Sips pulled back with a groan and stared at him.

“Hurry the fuck up, will you?”

As fast as he could, Xephos unlocked all the shackles on Sips’ hands and feet and threw the key away, glad to be rid of the restraints. With a groan, Sips pulled his shirt over his head and grabbed Xephos tightly, turning them around in one swift motion to push him against the wall. And all Xephos could think was finally, finally, an endless mantra that didn’t cease as Sips grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the wall above his head with one hand. Their roles in this silly play were reversed now finally and there was nothing but relief and a feeling of being burnt alive – oh, but a wonderful way to go.

Xephos thrashed his hips forward, eager for stimulation now that he felt he had permission, but Sips smiled dangerously and held his hips still with his free hand, cocking his head sideways in question 

“Say that you’re mine, Xephos.”

Xephos stilled, unsure of what to do now Sips no longer called him by his nickname. This changed the game, surely this wasn’t part of the plan, his analytical mind helpfully provided. But then again, there was a hand on his hips, deliciously close to something infinitely better, and lips close enough to touch and bite and suck and finally and what did it matter if you gave yourself to another in more ways than one? If someone else would ever analyse their story, they would say it had been obvious from the beginning. What’s your body if your mind, your blood, your thoughts have long been someone else’s already?

So he nodded briskly, once, because they both knew there was no need for theatrics any more. Sips rewarded him with a groan and a kiss, hard and rough, and Xephos felt like he was being swallowed whole – but he had had more than enough time to grow accustomed to that feeling and all he wanted now was more and harder. He should have known that Sips would be the one to give it to them.

In a mess of limbs they fell to the cold floor and somehow in the minutes that followed, Sips managed to get them both out of their pants so Xephos could finally enjoy the feeling of skin against wonderfully slick skin, a layer of sweat facilitating the slip and slide of hands everywhere. And when Sips grinned devilishly and let a hand wander lower and lower still, circling his rim tantalizingly slow, Xephos thrashed his head back against the floor with such force he saw stars for a minute. He arched his back, clawed at the other man’s back so hard he drew blood, wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry in relief because the shivers he felt were no longer caused by fear.

As Sips worked him open more gently then Xephos had expected, he tried to enjoy the ache and stretch as much as he could but still longing for more. And then, finally finally, Sips pushed in,cock somehow slicked up and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know with what but really, it didn’t matter because they were finally moving together, all awkward angles and jittery rhythm at first but quickly slotting into each other as puzzle pieces, as easy as breathing.

Sips kissed him, nipped at his lips and his neck and then his lips again, almost playful in a way he had never been before, sigh against breathless sigh as they hurled themselves over the edge of the abyss.

You taste so

bitter

and

so

sweet