// TW: Blood, Angst //

A look into the writing style of a fanfiction I plan to work on in the near future... This is not necessarily canon, because I intend things to go much more sinister and darker.

Also, this is not our usual Damien, the mayor, in this oneshot. It's Dark, but I feel like the name Damien fits much better for the feel of the story.

◼️ If you like to listen to music while you read, here's a list of songs that match the energy of the oneshot, that I also used to write with: ◼️

Messy Hearts - Moon Ate the Dark ; On the Nature of Daylight - Max Richter; In the Androgynous Dark - Brambles; Charms - Abel Korzeniowski

(Highly recommend you listen to these! ;) )

Hope you enjoy! <3

...

Wood creaked from deep in the woods.

    It was a low, groaning sound—like the bellow of a beast with watchful, hungry eyes.

    William sat in the darkness, grass pricking his bare feet and legs. Crickets chirped and owls hooted around him, and when he looked up at the sky, it felt like the stars were speaking to him.

    Despite the darkness of night—the pitch black forest and the glistening pond before him; and the presence of wild eyes studying him—he didn't feel afraid.

    An odd sense of calm lay over him like a blanket.

    He's reminded of his expeditions in the jungle. Of his memories of sleepless nights spent huddled with his fellow soldiers. Even then the stars would wink down at them through the canopy, and despite the inevitable danger bound to find them, he felt peace.

    The water in the pond rippled, and William returned to his senses. Moonlight glittered over a fish's scales as it jumped out of the pond and splashed back in.

    A door slid open from the mansion behind him.

    William noted the noise, but he didn't move, gazing fondly at the view.

    He thought Damien had gone to bed.

    The door slid back shut, and footsteps padded closer. Grass rustled—a faint perfume of oak and vanilla filled Will's senses—and when he glanced up, Damien was standing there, looking down at him.

    His grey skin glowed in the moonlight, and the blackness of his rustled hair made him look so... heavenly.

    A shame William had found out he was a monster.

    William softly smiled and turned his head back to the view.

    "You're up late," he slurred, breaking through the quiet of the night.

    Damien's black robe rustled as he sat down beside William, their thighs brushing. He followed the colonel's gaze and stared out at the pond.

    "So are you," he said.

    William hummed to himself, finding warmth in Damien's presence despite the fact his skin was always cold.

    "Couldn't sleep?" said William.

    Damien shrugged, eyes falling downcast.

    "Mm..." he muttered. "Not really."

    He paused a moment... shifted... and WIlliam's interest piqued. He could feel the uncertainty bleeding off of Dark—an emotion very unlike him.

    William didn't want to give his curiosity away, so he stayed still. Kept gazing out at the calm waters.

    "What's wrong?" asked William softly.

    A pause. Damien shifted.

    "Nothing," said Damien, his voice quiet. "Just... hungry."

    This time, William couldn't help himself. He sucked in a breath and turned in his seat, facing Damien to stare him in the face. When their eyes locked, dread rolled down his spine like cold water. Even the air around him seemed to chill.

    William took a deep breath and exhaled, trying not to give himself away. Damien didn't know that William was aware of what he was. What he really was.

    "Damien, I..." William ran a hand over his moustache and cleared his throat. "I've never seen you eat before."

    The air tightened between them, the two of them sitting there, still. Eyes running over the other's face, slow, examining. Tense.

    The noise of the forest cut out, then—no more crickets or owls. Not even the soft, hushing sway of leaves from the trees.

    Damien's eyes almost looked... desperate.

    At first, William had always wondered why Damien wouldn't eat. When they first met, Damien always insisted on dates like walking, or sight-seeing, or traveling. No breakfasts, or lunches, or dinners.

    William had thought perhaps Damien was anxious to eat in front of anyone—he could understand that, at least.

    But now that William knew what Damien truly was...

    William swallowed, unnerved by the silence between them.

    Well... he feared for his life.

    Damien's eyes slid down William's face to the expanse of his neck, and the gesture had William's heart pounding. When he swallowed again, he knew Damien saw it.

    Everything pieced together now. The nocturnal behaviors, the absence of diet, the calculated avoidance of sunlight.

    Telltale signs of a vampire.

    William watched Damien carefully, his chest rising and falling with each breath, when a challenging thought simmered in the back of his head. He would be playing with fire doing it, of course, but the colonel was never one to tame the beasts of nature.

    He stilled a moment—kept Damien pinned under his gaze—and slowly, carefully, tipped his head back. Just an inch, just a fragment—but enough to reveal the long expanse of his neck.

    The air shifted. Damien sucked in a breath, and through the darkness, Will could see the other's pupils dilate with a hunger that made him breathless.

    William sucked in another breath. He tipped his head back further and pulled his gaze off of Damien—knew he was playing with his life, doing that.

    But as he pretended to look up at the moon, and the stars, and the trees that layered the view, he started to grow content with the thought that this may very well be his last day here on Earth.

    He could feel Damien's breath growing on his neck as he leaned forward, unable to resist temptation. It was hot. Fueled.

    Deep down, William felt a sick sort of delight—something in him that enjoyed the carnal delicacy of this moment.

    He held his life out on display, knowing full well that Damien could take it with just a bite. He played with trust, and instinct, and danger.

    William ran a hand down his neck—knew Damien was watching—and smiled. The moon really did look nice, now that he looked at it for the last time.

    "Isn't the moon beautiful, Damien?" breathed William.

    When he didn't receive a response, he knew Damien was too transfixed to hear him. Too transfixed to stick to logic, or reason.

Right now, all that went through Damien's head was the sight of William's neck—the warm expanse of his flesh—and the succulent blood that pumped beneath it.

    William knew what he had to do, then. It didn't really register in his head as he did it—he felt out of his body as he went along with the motions—but it happened so flawlessly, so smoothly that it just felt right.

    William tilted his head to the side, opening the expanse of his neck. He tugged down the collar of his shirt, and at the same time, he grabbed a fistful of Damien's robes and pulled him forward.

    Heat built in the space between them like wildfire.

    "William—"

    "Do it, Damien," breathed Will, closing his eyes. "Do it."

    Damien swallowed—audibly swallowed—and William could feel him resisting, forcing himself to lean back, to deny his animalistic urges. His instinct.

    "Will, I... I don't know what you're d—"

    "Quit playing dumb with me, dammit," breathed William, eyes flying open. He glared at Damien, and now that he saw him again, a shock rippled through him.

    Damien looked wolfish... hungry. Like the veneer he'd always worn, always hidden behind, was finally unveiled.

    His eyes glowed red, and his pupils were blown wide... and when William glanced down at his parted lips, he saw fangs.

    Fangs, white as ivory.

    Fangs, sharp as daggers.

    Ever since William had found out what Damien was—that he was a vampire, a genuine, blood-sucking vampire—the surprise didn't hit him any less.

    Coming face to face with the truth—the real truth—made him freeze in place.

    Damien's brows rose. So did William's. But that didn't stop him from continuing.

    After overcoming the initial shock, William took a deep breath, eyes running over Damien's face. His hand slid away from Damien's robes and planted itself in the grass as he leaned forward.

    William rested his head against Damien's shoulder, his fingers curling into the grass at the feel of the other's breath over his neck. He could feel the heat of Damien's presence, now—could feel the soft slide of his lips against his neck.

    He took a deep, shuddering breath, and exhaled.

    "I know what you are," breathed William, his breath hot in Damien's ear. He could feel him shiver against him. "I've known. For a while now."

    His heart was pounding, and he knew Damien could hear it. Could feel it, in the heat between them. Could smell it, in the way his skin rose with pheromones with every strong pulse of his heart, of his blood through his veins.

    William took a deep breath, and he wrapped his arms around Damien, pulling him closer. Heat sparked between them. The rest of the world melted away.

    Damien's breaths picked up, and he made a choked sound in the back of his throat.

    "William, you..." Damien softly panted, the expanse of Will's neck so inviting. "You don't know what you're doing."

    Damien had planned to feed off William eventually. But not like this.

    Not with William giving up his life so selflessly.

    Not with William sacrificing himself for the sake of Damien's life.

    William cradled the back of Damien's neck with a hand and carded his fingers through his hair. They lingered there—silent—before William pulled Damien's head closer so his lips were on his neck.

    William shuddered at the feeling. Damien softly gasped.

    Will's hands tightened in Damien's hair, and he breathed hard, and his mind raced—and then he was tipping his head back further, keeping Damien close, offering himself to him.

    "Taste me, Damien," he breathed, closing his eyes. "God dammit, if you don't drink my fucking blood, I'll—"

    Pain pricked William's neck, and he gasped, flinching at the feeling.

    Damien's mouth closed around his pulse, and a fiery burn laced through his skin, his veins. William gasped for breath and clutched Damien, his eyes fluttering with surprise. Every beat of his heart felt like it lagged, fighting against the current of Damien's sucking fangs.

    "G-God—"

    William could feel his pulse at his neck like a drum. Could feel the hot slide of his blood sucked out of his body and filling the warmth of Damien's mouth. Could feel it rolling down his neck, his collarbones.

    "Agh... Damien—"

    Damien pulled away from William's neck and gasped, his breaths hot and heavy. Desperate. Oh, how he longed for more. More. More.

    William's blood was divine. Absolutely, stunningly divine. It was unlike anything he'd ever tasted in his life—beyond the finest wines and the rarest of jewels.

    Damien wanted to feast on all of William. He wanted to drain him, to suck on the sweetness of his pulse until he was high on it. Until he was satiated for the rest of eternity.

    But he stopped himself.

    His mouth opened on instinct, and his jaw quivered, ready for another drink of blood. But no, no, not yet. Not yet. He couldn't kill William, no.

    He wanted to savor him. He needed to savor him.

To honor him.

    Worship him.

    Damien ran his hands up William's body and clutched the soft flesh of his sides, breathing hard, his body aching, mouth salivating. Just the sight of William's neck—accented now with two pricks pooling with blood—had him going wild.

    Damien panted against William's neck, his mind hazy. He closed his eyes and ran his tongue along Will's neck, moaning in ecstasy, in delight. The hot taste of blood had his brows furrowing, body shuddering—mind whirling in such a carnal way that spun him into a high he could never live up to in a thousand years.

    He was on the brink of losing control.

Of all the men and women he'd feasted on in his lifetime, none matched that of William's. It was unparalleled. It was intoxicating.

    His blood was like silk and honey and gold. Like pearls, or light glinting along glass.

    His blood was like sunrays if he could taste them, or feel them. Like every one of Earth's most valuable gems melted into a viable, liquid drug.

    It wasn't until William said his name a third time that he broke from his lustful daze.

    "Damien... Damien," came Will's voice at his ear.

    Damien blinked, and he was face to face with William's neck again, the wound pooling with blood from his bite. A wave of hunger poured through him at the sight.

    "Damien..." came William's voice again. "Why did you stop?"

    Damien sucked in a breath, his body itching, aching, craving for another bite. His fingers dug into Will's sides, and he pulled him closer, their bodies flush against one anothers'.

    "I..." Damien ran his lips along Will's neck, brows furrowed. "Don't want..." His voice shook. "To kill you."

    William's breath shuddered in his ear, warm.

    "But you need to eat," he said.

    "And you deserve to live."

    William stilled in his grip at that, breaths easing.

    Damien felt like a hypocrite, but it made him feel better in the moment. Killing others was effortless, but with William, he felt the need to make things feel right. To make them feel... moral.

    William sucked in a deep breath and nuzzled his head into Damien's neck—such a soft, loving gesture. Damien wavered at the touch.

    "What does my blood taste like?" breathed William, running his fingers through the other's hair.

    Damien's attention drifted onto William's neck at the mere mention of blood, and he shakily exhaled. His instincts reared up in the back of his head—trying to overrun his logic, his reason.

    "Is it sweet?" continued Will, knowing exactly what he was doing. He tipped his head to the side for extra measure, pressing up into Damien. "Is it salty?"

    Damien salivated, his mouth falling open again, begging for another bite, another taste. His fangs itched to reopen the wound on William's neck—to claim him as his prey and feed on his blood.

    William unbuttoned the first few buttons of his collar and kissed the underside of Damien's jaw, breath hot on his skin.

    "Tell me how I taste," breathed William, pulling his shirt down his shoulder, "while you bite me."

    Damien shuddered for breath and ran his lips along William's neck, mouth parted. His fangs dragged along the expanse of warm, flushed skin.

    "It's... like gold," breathed Damien, hands sliding up William's sides. He kissed the wound on his neck and closed his eyes, trying to hold onto his last strings of sanity. "Like... the sweetest silk that mankind could never create."

    William tipped his head back and sighed, leaning into Damien's touch. The feel of his sharp fangs had every inch of his body shivering in both fear and delight.

    "What else?" breathed William, gazing up at the stars.

    Damien gently sank his teeth into William's shoulder—just an inch—to let a few specks of blood rise to the surface. William suppressed a flinch and made a choked sound when Damien ran his tongue along the wound, the blood fogging his senses.

    "Like you," breathed Damien.

    William's brows furrowed at that, and instead of another kiss at his neck, one pressed along his jaw. The shell of his ear. The corner of his lips.

    Damien leaned back and brought a hand up to the side of William's face, turning his head towards him so he could look at him. When they locked eyes, the heat between them expanded and grew, until everything felt scalding.

    Damien carefully leaned forward and glanced down at William's lips, his breath hot over his face.

    "You're the only person who's ever made me feel... human," said Damien. His eyes flicked onto William's. "You've given me something I've never felt before. That I never thought I... could feel."

    William gently exhaled and leaned closer, pressing his forehead against Damien's.

    "And what's that?" he breathed.

    Damien gave a small smile. Not one of happiness, but sadness.

    "Hope," he said quietly, voice low. His hand slid away from William's face and rested between them. "Love."

    The words sent chills down William's spine, and he smiled, bowing his head.

    "Is that why you won't continue?" said Will, his breath hot in the space between them.

    Damien closed his eyes and sighed. "I... don't know," he said. "Just like your blood, you're something I've never experienced before."

    William took Damien's hand in his own and squeezed it gently. His skin was cold to the touch, warmed by the colonel's grip.

    "I've lived a long life full of adventure, Damien," said William, giving a breathless, half-hearted laugh. "I'm getting old." He tilted his head. "I think it's... about time I settled down."

    Damien shook his head. "Not like this," he said. "You don't want to die like this."

    "I do," said William.

    Damien's gaze flicked onto William's, and he smiled at him, the edges of his eyes wrinkling. He brought up a hand and stroked the side of Damien's face.

    "If there's anything I can choose for myself, Damien," said Will, eyes full of adoration, "it's to live my last breath in your arms."

    "You—" Something heavy caught in the back of Damien's throat that he didn't understand. But it felt like what humans said crying was like. Suddenly, his eyes felt glossy. "You still have a life ahead of you, Will."

    "And as I age, you'll only get younger," said William. "I don't have much spring in me anymore."

    Damien ran his fingers along William's neck, his heart aching. He wished he could say something—wished he could tell William just how lonely being immortal was, that he wished he could be selfish and hang onto a human's life to be with him forever—but it was useless explaining such things to mortals.

    He carefully dropped his hand, eyes downcast.

    "This is what you want?" he breathed.

    William nodded.

    Damien sucked in a breath, and he gazed at William, examining his face. Admiring the beauty of it, of him.

    "Then let me make this better for you," said Damien. "We could go anywhere you want."

    William leaned forward and kissed the side of Damien's face.

    "I like it here," he said quietly. "Where it all started."

    He tilted his head, lips brushing against Damien's. Their breaths shuddered in the space between them.

    "Is that alright?" breathed William, lashes fluttering.

    Damien searched his features from up close—how the moonlight glittered in his eyes; highlighted his brows, his nose, his jaw and his lips.

    Damien nodded, and he ran his thumb over William's bottom lip, exhaling carefully.

    "I'd really like to kiss you," he breathed.

    William softly smiled at that.

    "Polite as ever, even to the bitter end," he said.

    Damien huffed.

    "I'm not the monster everyone takes me for."

    Neither Damien or William really understood the phrase of how it felt to kiss someone for the last time. Literature described it as this bittersweet, fantastical thing—one only seen in the written romances. Always a simile, always a comparison.

    But as their lips met, and they kissed so softly, so tenderly, it all made sense.

    Kissing someone for the last time felt like embracing death.

    William's life danced on the edges of its strings as their lips met and slid, heads tilting, hands caressing, hearts beating. Lasts breaths together, shared and hot, emotion run high, twisted and knotted.

    Damien pulled William closer and held the sides of his face like it would be the last time—no, because it would be the last time.

The last time he could feel his face, and his soft, warm skin. The last time he could feel his chest, and the heart inside it that made him feel like someone who mattered.

The last time he could hold onto the person that made him feel like life was really worth living.

Damien didn't want William to see him crying, so he pulled away from the kiss and buried his head in his neck. His breaths racked, and the knot in his throat grew, but he wouldn't dare make a sound.

William brought a hand up and caressed Damien's hair, resting his head against his. He took a deep breath and sighed, a faint smile on his lips.

"It's okay," he said, running his fingers through Damien's locks. "You can eat, now."

His voice caught, and Damien clutched him harder, feeling the racing beat of his heart.

"I know you're hungry."

Hungry.

That's all that was, in the beginning. Just a lust for blood, for his own, selfish hunger.

That's all it ever was, wasn't it?

Hunger. Blood. A greed woven into a carnal delicacy that twisted through the tassle of emotion.

But hearing the words so softly from William's lips had him aching in a way he never thought he was capable of feeling before.

Damien sucked in a ragged breath and blinked away tears, gazing down at William's neck, so close to his lips, his fangs. His instincts kicked in, and his fingers dug into Will's body, and before he knew it, his mouth was around William's pulse, and his fangs sank in deep, and blood, hot blood, was rushing into his mouth, down his throat, deep in his belly.

William made a strangled sound, and then they were falling back into the grass, Damien's jaw still locked on Will's pulse as he hovered over him—pressed him against the soil.

Could he have done things differently? thought Damien as he sucked William's blood.

William grabbed a fistful of Damien's hair and gasped for breath, squirming under him, his feet pressing into the grass.

Could he have held out on his hunger just a decade longer?

William's chest heaved as he panted, and he arched up into Damien, their bodies pressing, sliding. A breathy, keening sound pulled from his lips, and that only spurred Damien further, the noise awakening that carnal thing within him.

His fangs sank in deeper, and hot blood pooled into his mouth, past his lips and down William's collarbones. He could start to feel the lag of William's heartbeat—a pulse that quickened... fell... quickened... fell... with every drink he lavished himself with.

Damien savored another drink and gasped for air, blood dripping from his fangs. He pressed a firm hand over the bite wound and gazed at William, finding his eyes closed tight, brows furrowed and mouth agape as he panted. When he noticed that Damien wasn't drinking his blood anymore, his eyes fluttered open, and he glanced over at him, confusion painting his features.

"If you don't stop me," said Damien, panting, "you're going to die."

William's expression softened, and he chuckled—a weak, ragged sound.

"Damien, that's the p—"

"Don't you want to live?" breathed Damien, his voice catching in the back of his throat. "Just a while longer, just a few more years with—" William looked up at him with those kind, searching eyes, and Damien couldn't find it in himself to continue.

'With me?' is what he wanted to say.

His chest ached.

'Don't you want to spend a few more years with me?'

Damien huffed to himself and bowed his head, and when William gently held the side of his face and tilted his head back up, they met eyes.

"Think of it this way," said William, his voice soft, weak. Damien could hear his uneasy heartbeat from this close. "You told me you believed in past lives, right?"

Damien had been holding things back when they'd had that conversation, but he nodded, nonetheless. Life went so much beyond the ideology of past lives, or reincarnation.

"See this as an end to only one of my stories," said William with a faint smile. "I'll come back to you. I promise."

Damien scoffed at that, knowing that William was speaking nonsense at this point. Mortals couldn't be reincarnated; nor could immortals like him. It had to be in their blood.

He stilled at that.

In their blood.

Damien's eyes flicked onto William's, and his gaze held something he couldn't understand. He only smiled up at him, the corners of his eyes wrinkling.

"I promise," he said again.

Damien's mind whirred on possibilities and theories, but before he could mull any longer on them, William pushed Damien's hand away from his neck and tipped his head to the side. The wound gushed with blood again, dripping down his skin.

"For me, Damien," he said softly. "Satiate your hunger, for me."

'I'll come back to you,' rang Will's words in his head.

Damien gazed into William's eyes for the last time and savored the moment, holding onto the last images of his living form for a little longer. He would never forget him, or what they shared together, ever.

'I promise.'

Damien bowed his head, ran his lips along William's neck... and then he drank until he couldn't any longer.

...

May or may not have teared up writing a few of these paragraphs LMAO

Tell me your thoughts... O_O

Thank you so much for reading, and have a wonderful day!

Love, Sh. A. xoxo