Eric's body thrummed with tension, a fierce struggle raging within him. He could feel the call of his vampire side, a deep-rooted craving that urged him to claim what was tantalisingly close. It was intoxicating, exhilarating, and utterly terrifying. The space between them felt impossibly small, electric, as he hovered on the brink of surrendering to the darkness that Alaric represented.
Alaric leaned closer, presenting his neck, the vulnerability in his posture a twisted invitation that sent waves of hunger coursing through Eric's veins.
The temptation was overwhelming, a siren's call that resonated with the very core of his being. Eric swallowed hard, his instincts battling against the rational part of his mind. "I… I don't want to," he whispered, though even to his own ears, the denial sounded weak, faltering.
Alaric reclined on the luxurious couch—a strange sight amid the grim walls of the prison cell, yet somehow befitting for someone like him. He lounged as if this cold, sterile room were merely his personal parlor, one arm draped lazily along the backrest, his gaze fixed intently on Eric.
"Such a lie," Alaric purred, his voice a silken taunt that filled the empty air. "Hunger doesn't lie, and I can feel it growing within you."
Eric's restraint slipped, instincts taking control as Alaric's words drew him in, compelling him closer. The space on the couch was tight, forcing Eric to drop to his knees to reach Alaric fully, inching toward him until he was face to face with Alaric's calm, calculating stare. Every inch closer felt like surrender, and yet he couldn't resist the invisible pull drawing him into Alaric's orbit.
His hands trembled as they reached for the buttons of Alaric's shirt, his fingers slipping over the fabric in a fervent, hurried rhythm. Alaric remained still, his expression a mystery, though a faint tension hummed beneath his otherwise calm demeanor.
Eric leaned in, his mouth grazing Alaric's skin, letting his lips linger just above the pulse he could feel thrumming beneath that icy calm. He let his tongue trace along Alaric's pulse, teasingly slow. Beneath him, Alaric's breath hitched, his body rigid yet alive with an unspoken tension, as though he, too, was holding back, the air between them taut with the weight of what could be.
Eric's lips trailed upward, each touch an exploration, drawing closer to Alaric's jaw, then down to the hollow of his throat, a whisper away from pressing deeper, his breath brushing across Alaric's skin. The space between them seemed to shrink, every slight movement sparking a reaction, an unyielding tension mounting with each brush of lips and graze of teeth. He could feel Alaric's restraint melting away, though the vampire's stillness betrayed nothing—only the faintest tightening of his hands against Eric's arms, as if fighting the impulse to pull him closer.
Eric's mouth hovered at the base of Alaric's neck, fingers slipping over the sharp lines of his collarbone as his need rose,urging him to push further.
Just as his teeth pressed against Alaric's skin, Alaric's hand slid between them, firm yet unhurried. His fingers pressed against Eric's chest, holding him back with a power that left no room for argument, as though savoring the moment he'd drawn Eric to this edge.
In a flash, Alaric slipped free from Eric's grasp, moving with a grace and ease that left an electric tension hanging in the air. He stood by the bed, an unreadable glint in his eyes, his lips curving into a taunting, dangerously inviting smile.
"Where do you think you're going?" Eric's voice dropped to a low, guttural growl, a predator's hunger sharpening every word. His eyes, dark with need, bore into Alaric as he lunged forward, the desperation of starvation driving him. His fingers brushed Alaric's arm before Alaric twisted away, teasing him with maddening agility.
In one swift motion, Alaric spun, catching Eric off guard and shoving him back onto the bed. The sudden force knocked the breath from Eric's lungs, and he lay sprawled across the cool prison sheets, every nerve alight with frustrated hunger. His fangs pressed against his lower lip, and he fought the need to lunge again, to close the gap and drink deeply, to end the agony Alaric's evasion stirred inside him.
Alaric stood over Eric, a low, taunting laugh slipping from his lips as he moved with a predatory grace, crawling atop him until their bodies pressed together, every inch of Alaric's presence intoxicatingly close. His hair fell around them, brushing against Eric's face and neck, framing Alaric's fierce, seductive features that held an unbreakable hold over him.
Eric's body responded instinctively, an unwanted heat building beneath Alaric's weight, the sensation of both a torment and a thrill.
Alaric's fingers traced along Eric's collarbone, barely grazing his skin, enough to make Eric's breath hitch with anticipation. He leaned down, his mouth brushing over Eric's jaw, an act where his own hunger ached to be sated. "Tell me, Eric," Alaric murmured, his voice soft and edged with dark delight, "how long can you keep from taking what you want?"
Eric's hands moved to grip Alaric's waist, trembling as he fought the urge to flip him over, to seize control. His fangs was aching now as he whispered back, his voice barely a growl, "Not long."
Alaric's smile widened, a twisted glint sparking in his eyes as he leaned back, baring the vulnerable line of his neck, each inch a deliberate invitation—taunting Eric to lose control. He could see Eric's pupils dilate, a flicker of hunger that mirrored his own dark, buried desires, desires he'd kept shackled for so long, trapped in silence and chains.
The hunger stirring inside him was feral, a raw, insatiable need forged from centuries of restraint, countless years of starvation, every inch of his soul straining against the spells that bound him, craving release. Eric reminded him painfully of someone, a ghost of the past that gnawed at him, twisting his desires into something darker, something laced with violence and longing. He wanted to consume Eric, to rip him apart and piece him back together, to make him his entirely, in a way that would echo long after this night ended.
His sharpened teeth glinted in the dim light, a reminder of the savagery just beneath his polished exterior, the edge he fought to keep hidden but now wanted to unleash, to watch Eric squirm under the weight of his own need. Alaric's eyes glinted with that unholy hunger, barely kept in check, each second ramping up the tension between them. The spell held him back, a leash that taunted him just as he taunted Eric, every ounce of him aching to sink his teeth into flesh, to let the blood spill, to feel Eric writhe beneath him, helpless and his to devour every piece of him in a brutal release he'd been denied for so long.
The moment Eric would have stepped into the room, Alaric would have lunged, instinct taking over, his body primed to seize and destroy, but now—a bitter reminder of his imprisonment—he felt the spell hold him back, an invisible chain that forced his limbs into stillness, denying him even the smallest movement.
It was maddening, feeling that familiar surge of predatory need only to have his own body rebel, refusing to obey his desires. The spell's restraint gripped him, binding his every instinct, forcing him to simply sit there, tantalizingly close to what he craved, a mere inch away yet utterly unable to move. He could almost hear the twisted laughter of the one who had cursed him, reveling in his helplessness.
His gaze was dark, demonic, filled with the fury of countless years of denial, the rage of being denied the one thing he wanted in that moment more than freedom itself. His jaw tightened as he felt the spell's hold tighten with each pulse of his desire, forcing him to bear the agony of restraint, as if the spell were mocking him, taunting him with just how close he was yet wholly unable to act.
The sick irony of it all only fueled his hunger, his gaze trailing hungrily over Eric, a predator shackled and denied the kill, his smile nothing more than a mask to hide the bloodlust raging just beneath his skin. He wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth deep into Eric, to drag him down to his level, but he was trapped in his own unresponsive body, helpless to do anything but silently suffer the ache of unfulfilled, violent desire.
Eric lay beneath Alaric, his body relaxed yet brimming with an electrified excitement, as if the danger that loomed over him only fueled his sick fascination. His eyes held a fanatical gleam as he watched Alaric's expression, the way that predatory hunger flickered beneath the thin veneer of control. Smiling darkly, Eric reached up, his fingers tracing Alaric's jaw before slipping along his lips, feeling the coolness of his skin.
Without hesitation, he pressed his index finger into Alaric's mouth, feeling the sharp prick of one of those razor-like fangs. He pushed his finger deeper, letting it drag slowly against the edge until he felt the hot sting as his skin broke. Blood began to well up, a rich warmth that spilled onto Alaric's tongue, and he watched, mesmerized, as Alaric's eyes fluttered closed, his entire body tensing with barely restrained desire. He took it into his mouth, his lips wrapping around it. The way he drew Eric's finger in was slow, deliberate, his tongue flicking against it with almost sinful attention. There was an intensity in the way he sucked, each movement both seductive and teasing, as if he were drawing something deeper, more intimate, from Eric's very essence.
Eric felt the heat and pressure of Alaric's mouth.He watched, mesmerized, as Alaric's eyes fluttered shut, his lips pressing tighter around the finger as if savoring every drop of blood that spilled over his tongue. Alaric's movements were languid, his teeth grazing the skin but not hard enough to hurt Eric.
The sensation was maddeningly sensual, the way Alaric's mouth moved over him—careful yet filled with a barely restrained hunger. It was as if Alaric were showing him exactly what he wanted, the perfect balance of control and surrender, making Eric's own desire flare.
Alaric's eyes slowly opened, the rich taste of Eric's blood still lingering on his tongue, but his gaze was no longer fixed on Eric. Something else had caught his attention—a peculiar sensation, the weight of an uninvited, intrusive stare coming from the corner of the room....someone was watching him with those disgusting lust filled eyes that Alaric hated .His head turned, his intense gaze narrowing as it settled on the small creature-like object mounted near the ceiling. It was just a security camera, though Alaric, trapped for centuries, had no knowledge of such devices. To him, it was a disturbing, watchful presence, something alien and loathsome that grated against his instincts.
Eric felt the shift immediately, his attention snapping to the interruption with a sudden, possessive fury. His jaw clenched, and an unnatural darkness shadowed his expression, his eyes flickering with a beautiful, deadly red glow. The rage simmered within him, unbidden, a possessive wrath that he couldn't quite explain—how dare anything draw Alaric's attention away from him, especially in a moment like this?
Following Alaric's gaze, he spotted the camera, his own eyes narrowing with violent intent. His hand rose, pointing at the unwelcome intruder with a calm, focused fury. The air around him crackled, and in an instant, a tiny bead of shimmering red blood formed at his fingertip, pulsing with a life of its own. With a flick of his wrist, the bead shot through the air, a perfect, glistening missile that struck the camera dead-center.
The impact burst through the lens in a small but violent spray, obliterating the camera with a soundless, efficient intensity. The dark glass shattered, and a few sizzling sparks flew as the device died, its watchful eye extinguished, leaving only silence in its wake.
Eric's gaze softened back to Alaric, his face wearing an almost possessive satisfaction as he admired the subtle way Alaric's focus had been pulled back to him,surprised .His voice was low, husky with satisfaction. "Better, isn't it?" he murmured, brushing his fingers against Alaric's cheek, claiming his attention once more.
A hot flush crept up Eric's neck as Alaric's eyes glinted with a knowing satisfaction. The immortal leaned in, his lips brushing just beneath Eric's jaw, the sensation made Eric's fingers curl into fists.
"No one's watching us now," Alaric murmured, his voice a silken promise, his mouth moving with maddening slowness along Eric's jaw. "Nothing holds us back, Eric. No control, no rules… only the hunger we both feel."
The air between them felt charged, almost suffocating in its intensity. Eric could feel his self-restraint crumbling, the boundary between resistance and surrender blurring until it felt meaningless. Alaric's presence was everywhere, pressing against him, urging him closer to that dangerous edge he'd always feared.
Eric could barely form a coherent thought, his vampire side completely in control, but Alaric's playful taunts stoked the flames of desire within him. Alaric arched his back slightly, pressing his body against Eric's in a way that made his heart race.
"Oh, I like this side of you," Alaric continued, his tone dropping to a sultry whisper. "The way you've surrendered to your darker nature. It's intoxicating, don't you think?" He ran a fingertip along Eric's forearm, the light touch igniting sparks of tension between them.
Alaric, knowing full well the effect he had on Eric, tilted his head, exposing the smooth line of his neck again in a silent, taunting invitation. The vein pulsed there, just beneath the pale skin, a subtle but undeniable rhythm that called to every dark urge in Eric's soul.
Eric's eyes traced the line of Alaric's throat, completely entranced, until Alaric's mouth curved into a smirk, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. Slowly, Alaric raised a finger to his neck, letting Eric watch each movement in a twisted dance of anticipation. His fingertip elongated, sharpening into a cruel point as it caught the dim light, shining like a blade. With a fluid motion, he drew it across his own skin, slicing deep enough to release a steady thick stream of crimson.
The scent hit Eric's senses in an intoxicating wave, the metallic tang of blood mixing with something richer, something that promised power and forbidden knowledge. Eric's eyes darkened, a feral hunger taking over as he leaned forward, unable to hold back. Alaric watched him closely, eyes gleaming, his own desire barely restrained. He inclined his head further, letting the blood spill over his collarbone in a slow, tantalizing trail.
"Drink," Alaric murmured, his voice like a low, predatory purr. "Take it all, Eric. Every drop."
With a growl, Eric's restraint snapped, and in one swift movement, he surged forward, taking control. He twisted their positions, pinning Alaric beneath him with a force that was both possessive and hungry. Eric's mouth descended on the cut, his tongue lapping up the blood with a fervor that bordered on obsession, his lips sealing over the wound as if trying to consume every drop. The taste was electric, his grip tightening as if he couldn't bear to let go.
As he fed, black veins spread around his eyes, marking his face with twisted lines of shadow, each pulse amplifying the madness clawing at him. His entire being was consumed, lost in the taste of Alaric's essence, the connection growing deeper, darker, and more dangerous with every swallow. The feeling overtook him completely, drowning him in something primal.
And then, without warning, the need surged to a fever pitch, spilling over into a frenzy he couldn't contain. With a snarl, Eric's fangs extended, and he sank them savagely into Alaric's neck, so deep that any human would have been writhing in agony. The flesh gave way under the pressure, and Eric tore into it, drinking hungrily, losing himself in the savage ecstasy of the bite. His fingers dug into Alaric's shoulders, holding him firmly in place as if he feared that his source of sustenance and thrill might vanish.
For a moment, all that existed was the connection between them—the pulse of Alaric's life force pouring into Eric, the brutal satisfaction of the bite, and the sinister intimacy of the act.
Alaric gasped, the shock of pain quickly dissolving into pure ecstasy as Eric fed hungrily, pulling deep, powerful draws from his neck. Each movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through Alaric's body, and he couldn't suppress the soft whimper that escaped his lips, an involuntary reaction that seemed to stir in both of them. Alaric's hands clenched at Eric's shoulders, fingers digging in, but it wasn't to push him away—it was to feel the weight of Eric's dominance, the intoxicating sense of control slipping from his own grasp. In that moment, he didn't want to be in control; he wanted to be devoured, to be consumed by the darkness between them.
His eyes fluttered shut, his lips parting slightly as a soft moan escaped him. There was a look of both satisfaction and dangerous anticipation on his face, as if he was daring Eric to take more, to push him further into that intoxicating abyss of submission. The more Eric fed, the more Alaric surrendered, each deep pull stripping away his usual cool, calculated demeanor. The control he had once clung to was slipping away, and he felt nothing but the raw, carnal need to be overwhelmed, to feel Eric's hunger consume him completely.
"More," Alaric murmured, his voice low and sultry, thick with desire. He tilted his head back, exposing his throat fully, offering it to Eric as a silent invitation. His chest rose and fell with shallow, heated breaths, and every inch of his body seemed to vibrate with a combination of anticipation and surrender. There was something maddeningly alluring about the way he embraced the loss of control, how he reveled in the sweet agony of being devoured. The more Eric claimed him, the more he was drawn to the edge of something darker, something more dangerous.
Alaric's gaze met Eric's, half-lidded and intoxicated, a dark, satisfied gleam in his eyes, as though he thrived on this duality of power and surrender. Every ounce of his being screamed for more, and beneath it all, there was the undeniable thrill of being wanted so completely, so completely lost in the chaos of their tangled desires.
Eric's grip tightened as he maneuvered Alaric's legs apart, forcefully settling himself between them to bring their bodies even closer. His fingers tangled roughly into Alaric's hair, yanking him roughly, where he sank his teeth with a deep, hungry intensity. The arm around Alaric's waist locked tighter, pulling him into every ragged, fervent pull at his throat, each draw sending a wave of dark pleasure through them both.
Eric's gaze was dark with a dangerous, insatiable hunger, and Alaric met it with a half-lidded stare, his expression a mix of surrender and reckless anticipation. His breathing quickened, his head tilted back as his lips parted in a breathless whisper, "More…" Each word was a plea, an invitation, daring Eric to pull him deeper into this intoxicating descent.
"Don't stop… please" Alaric urged, his voice trembling with desire, barely able to maintain control over his own emotions.
Eric's hunger seemed unquenchable as he drank deeply, lost in the intoxicating taste of Alaric's blood. Each pull drove him further into a fevered trance, his grip tightening as he held Alaric close, feeling the rush of life beneath his skin. He was entranced, consumed by the man beneath him, unable to stop even as the moments stretched on, each one thick with a primal desire that drowned out reason.
Finally, a shiver of awareness broke through, and he stilled, his lips stained crimson as he pulled back slightly. The healing cut on Alaric's neck drew his attention, and with slow, deliberate intent, he licked over the wound, his tongue tracing it softly before placing a lingering kiss over the mark. The gentle press of his lips was a stark contrast to the raw ferocity of moments before, as if in a silent apology—or perhaps, an unspoken promise.
Alaric whimpered beneath him, the sound small and breathless, making Eric's chest tighten. He looked up, his gaze locking onto Alaric's face, and the sight captivated him. Alaric's flushed cheeks, half-lidded eyes, and parted lips made him look both vulnerable and achingly beautiful, a vision of pure surrender. There was a softness in his expression now, an openness that Eric found impossible to resist, as though Alaric had bared his very soul in that moment.