Eric groggily blinked his eyes open.He was on the floor—his head throbbed, a dull ache that only intensified with every shift of his body. He instinctively tried to sit up but stopped short.
Alaric sat quietly nearby.
Before Eric could say a word or even fully comprehend what was happening, Alaric was by his side, his cool fingers suddenly cradling Eric's face with surprising gentleness. His body tensed reflexively, but Alaric held him firm, his grip possessive yet comforting in a way that confused him even further.
"Easy," Alaric murmured, his voice low, almost soothing.
Eric's breath hitched, the sound sharp in the otherwise still room. He jerked, panic surging through him, but Alaric's touch was steady, his gaze unblinking as he observed Eric's every reaction.
"You're awake now," Alaric whispered, almost to himself. "Good. I was starting to think you wouldn't come back to me."
The words, though soft, carried an ominous weight. Eric's mind raced, struggling to piece together where he was and how he got there. His body was still groggy from whatever had been done to him. But one thing was clear—Alaric was the reason he was here.
Without warning, a surge of adrenaline flooded his veins. His body moved before his mind could catch up, and in a single, swift motion, Eric shot up from the floor, his hands grabbing onto Alaric's shoulders as he pulled himself forward. Alaric's cool hands were instantly at his sides, steadying him, but there was no hesitation in Eric's action.
He held onto Alaric, his arms wrapping tightly around him, clutching him with an urgency that surprised even him. His heart hammered in his chest, but it wasn't fear that drove him now—it was a need for something he couldn't put into words.
Alaric didn't pull away. Instead, he embraced Eric back, his hold firm yet tender, his arms folding around him with a protective force.
"Eric…" Alaric whispered softly against his ear. "You're covered in blood. Did Elias make you do something you didn't want to do again?"
The question struck Eric like a punch to the gut. Elias... just hearing the name dragged him back to everything that had happened. Though he hadn't been conscious when Killian killed the witch, he had pieced it together by delving into the depths of his mind. Shaking his head, he buried his face in Alaric's chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding him against the chaos in his thoughts.
"No," Eric muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion. "I did what I had to do. I let him in."
Alaric's body tensed against him, and he pulled back slightly to look down at Eric with confusion. "Let him in?" he repeated, his voice laced with concern and confusion . "Who, Eric? Who did you let in?"
Eric felt the words claw their way up from the depths of him, the truth that he could no longer keep buried. His grip tightened around Alaric, his fingers trembling as he spoke, the confession spilling from him in a jagged breath.
"A monster," Eric whispered. "I let in a monster."
Alaric's brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing slightly as he searched Eric's face for any sign of clarity. His hands were still around Eric, holding him close as if the very idea of letting him go was foreign, almost impossible.
"A monster?" Alaric repeated slowly.His gaze lingered on Eric's bloodied form, the remnants of the feed still visible. "What do you mean by that?"
"Don't worry about it," Eric muttered softly, his voice just above a whisper. He didn't want to go down that road, didn't want to explain the darkness that had taken root inside him. Not yet. Not when he was still trying to make sense of everything.
But Alaric, as always, didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned closer, his hands gently cupping Eric's face. A strange hunger flickered in Alaric's eyes before he licked Eric's lips slowly, almost as if savoring the remnants of blood.
Eric felt his face flush immediately, heat creeping up his neck. He could barely hold Alaric's gaze, looking away in embarrassment as his blush deepened.
"Eric…" Alaric murmured, voice rough. He seemed to savor the moment, watching Eric squirm under his touch, but his eyes soon softened. "You broke through the door, didn't you? That wasn't supposed to be possible, was it?"
"I… I didn't know how," Eric admitted, his voice trembling slightly. The truth was, he couldn't explain it. Something had shifted inside him.
Alaric's expression darkened as he processed the words. There was something else, something underneath the surface that Eric wasn't revealing, but Alaric didn't push it.
He drew in a sharp breath, his focus sharpening. "We don't have much time," Alaric said, his tone changing suddenly, becoming more serious. "The guards will notice your absence soon. The door is smashed open, and they'll come to separate us."
Eric's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the guards. The very thought of being torn away from Alaric, of going back to that sterile, oppressive world, made him shudder.
But before Alaric could finish, Eric's hand shot out, grabbing onto his wrist, his grip tightening. "That won't happen anymore," Eric said, his voice filled with a quiet, dangerous certainty.
Alaric's confusion deepened. He looked at Eric as though trying to process the words, his mind racing.
"What do you mean?" Alaric asked, voice low, still searching Eric's eyes for any hint of what was really happening. "What do you mean it won't happen again?"
Eric's gaze hardened. "They won't separate us. I won't let them. Not anymore."
"You're not making sense," Alaric said quietly, still holding Eric's face. "How can you be so sure?"
Eric swallowed, his throat tight with the weight of the answer he didn't know how to give. He closed his eyes for a moment, searching for the right words, but instead of speaking, he simply took a deep breath, letting the moment stretch out between them.
"I just… know," Eric replied softly, his words laced with conviction. "I'm not going back to that cage. Not to the people who keep me in chains. And I won't let you be taken either."
Eric suddenly smiled slowly, almost teasingly, as he looked up at Alaric. "Are you hungry?" he asked, his voice light, almost playful. It was a question that seemed to float in the air between them, a shift in the atmosphere, but one that also carried a certain heaviness.
Alaric chuckled, the sound low and dark, as if he was amused but also slightly intrigued by Eric's sudden shift. "I'm always hungry, Eric," he replied, his voice thick with both amusement and something else that Eric couldn't quite place. "But they force me to eat cold meat that I can't stand." He sighed, almost mockingly, as though the thought of the tasteless, lifeless food irked him.
Eric tilted his head, still grinning, the idea forming in his mind. His next words were soft, but there was something undeniable about the confidence in them.
"Then you can drink from me, if you want," he said, his voice barely a whisper, but there was a quiet dare behind it, an invitation.
Alaric's gaze flickered to Eric's exposed neck, and for a moment, there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. But it passed quickly, replaced by a look that was almost amused, almost condescending. His lips curled into a slight smile.
"You're foolish," Alaric said, his voice low but firm. "You know the spell the witch cast. It doesn't allow me to hurt anyone—not even you."
Eric's heart skipped a beat, but he didn't flinch. Instead, his smile faded just slightly, replaced by an intensity that Alaric hadn't seen before. Something serious. Something raw.
"I know," Eric replied, his voice suddenly steady, unwavering. His eyes locked with Alaric's, daring him, challenging him. "But try."
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Alaric's eyes narrowed slightly, studying Eric as if searching for some sign that this was a game, a momentary lapse in judgment. But there was none. Eric's gaze was intense, filled with a quiet resolve.
"You really want me to?" Alaric asked, his voice lower now, threaded with a mix of intrigue and something darker.
Eric nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact.
"Try," he repeated, his voice almost daring.
Eric's hand trembled as he reached up, the sharp edge of his nail cutting through the delicate skin of his neck with a quiet hiss. Blood began to trickle down lazily, warm and inviting, following the curve of his throat in slow drips. He winced slightly at the sting but didn't pull away—he didn't want to. This was the moment. The invitation, the challenge, all of it culminated in this one act.
Alaric's gaze shifted. For a moment, he remained motionless, his eyes locked on the blood dripping down Eric's neck. Then, slowly, he leaned in.
"Don't waste it," Alaric murmured, his voice a low growl of hunger—an unspoken command. He licked the blood that was still lazily trickling down Eric's skin, his tongue warm, almost reverent as he tasted it. The warmth of it, the rich, metallic flavor—.
Eric's breath hitched at the sensation, a shiver running through him as Alaric's tongue danced over the wound. His heart raced, and his pulse surged in anticipation, his blood running hot beneath his skin.
Alaric kissed the small wound softly, the warmth of his lips almost tender, but the hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.
"Bite me," Eric said, his voice soft but demanding. The words seemed to hang between them, an offer that neither of them could take back.
Alaric's hesitated and for a moment, Eric wondered if he'd back down. But then, Alaric's eyes flickered over the wound again, and the hesitation was gone.
The spell—the one that had kept Alaric from harming anyone—had always been there, an invisible barrier between him and his prey. Eric watched as Alaric leaned in closer, his breath warm against the blood-slicked skin of Eric's neck. .
Alaric held his breath, waiting for the familiar feeling of restraint, the spell that would stop him, that would make him pull away. But it didn't come.
The spell wasn't working. It wasn't stopping him.
Without a word, Alaric sank his teeth into Eric's neck.
The sudden shock of pain made Eric gasp, his fingers curling into Alaric's hair, holding him in place as the sensation of sharp fangs pierced his skin. It wasn't like the usual bite—it wasn't restrained, not gentle. It was raw, ferocious, and unrestrained.
Eric's breath hitched as Alaric's fangs sank deeper, the pain intensifying, but it was a sweet, unbearable kind of pain. The pleasure, too, came with it, swirling beneath the surface. He gasped, his fingers tightening in Alaric's hair, urging him closer, needing him closer.
Alaric didn't hesitate now. He drank. And he drank deeply.
Eric's vision blurred, the room spinning as Alaric's mouth moved greedily over his neck, sucking the blood from him with desperation. There was no restraint now, no hesitation—only hunger, only a ravenous need. His teeth dug deeper, and Eric couldn't hold back the desperate gasp that escaped his lips. He felt the blood leave his body in waves, the warmth pooling inside him, the energy draining, but Alaric didn't stop. He couldn't stop.
Eric's heart pounded in his chest, his pulse racing faster, his breath coming in shallow gasps as the sensation of Alaric feeding from him overwhelmed every sense. He was alive in ways he had never felt before, every nerve singing, every inch of his body alive with heat and hunger.
"Please…" Eric breathed out, the word leaving his lips as a desperate plea, but Alaric didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Alaric's grip on Eric's neck tightened, his teeth sinking deeper, his hunger growing with every drop he drank. The blood tasted warm, intoxicating—it had been so long since he had tasted anything like this, and now, he couldn't get enough.
Eric's hands moved to Alaric's head, pulling him in closer, forcing him to drink deeper, to take more. The pleasure and pain were dizzying, intoxicating, and Eric couldn't stop himself even if he wanted to. The rush of power, of sensation, was overwhelming.
When the world began to fade around him, when his body felt light, as though it might slip away, Eric gasped, clutching Alaric's head tighter. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths as he tried to stay conscious, tried to hold onto himself even as Alaric's relentless feeding took more and more from him.
Alaric's grip finally loosened, his teeth withdrawing from Eric's neck with a wet, audible sound that left Eric feeling dizzy, his body weak but still yearning for more. The blood—warm and intoxicating—still swirled beneath his skin, a lingering buzz that left him breathless. His vision blurred, but he stayed still, the world spinning around him in hazy flashes. His chest heaved with shallow breaths, his body trembling slightly as the sensations racked his frame.
Alaric pulled back, his face stained with the crimson traces of Eric's blood, his lips twisted into something that wasn't quite a smile but not quite a sneer either. His eyes were wild now, pupils blown wide.
"Is this what I think it is?" Alaric's voice was low, almost a rasp, as if the hunger hadn't fully left him, as if his words were suffused with that same dark hunger that had driven him to drink so greedily from Eric's neck. His chest rose and fell as he waited for the answer, the question hanging heavy between them.
Eric's lips twitched upward, his expression lopsided, a half-smile curving across his bloodied mouth. His eyes gleamed with something murderous, intoxicating that mirrored the look in Alaric's eyes. He nodded slowly, a small, almost satisfied gesture.
"Yeah…" Eric's voice was a whisper, rough with the aftertaste of what had just transpired, but there was something more in it. Something darker, something that had always been there, buried beneath the surface. He tilted his head, the blood on his neck glistening under the faint light, before letting out a breathless laugh. "It's what you think it is."
Alaric's smile spread then, his teeth still stained with the remnants of Eric's blood, making his grin look even more dangerous. There was no hesitation now. There was only raw, untamed desire, and Alaric leaned forward, his lips parting, his gaze flickering to Eric's mouth as if drawn to the blood that still lingered there.
And then, in a moment of breathless, dark intimacy, their lips met. It wasn't soft. It wasn't sweet. It was ferocious. The blood from their mouths mingled, and the kiss tasted like iron. The taste of blood lingered in their mouths, coating their tongues and teeth in a way that only made the kiss feel more erotic.
When they pulled apart, a thin strand of blood connected their lips for just a moment before breaking, leaving both of them breathless, eyes wild with unspoken understanding. Alaric's smile brightened, and Eric felt a deep sense of satisfaction settle within him, a strange pride.
Eric, still panting, couldn't help but speak, the words slipping from his lips in a low murmur. "I killed her… I killed the witch." His eyes burned with a dark, almost bitter pride, the confession laced with a certain twisted satisfaction.
Alaric's smile turned wicked.His hands found Eric's face once more. "Good," Alaric breathed, the word carrying a chilling satisfaction of its own. "Very good."
Eric's heart raced in his chest, the blood that remained in his veins feeling both cold and hot, alive and dead all at once.
And for the first time, Eric didn't want to fight it.
Alaric didn't hesitate this time. His lips crashed against Eric's again, the kiss fiercer, more desperate than before, as if every inch of him was claiming Eric in that one moment. Eric responded just as violently, kissing him back with a force that matched Alaric's hunger, his fingers threading into the white strands of Alaric's hair, pulling him deeper. There was no gentleness between them now—only a brutal, burning need that consumed them both.
When they finally pulled apart, gasping for air, their foreheads met, both of them still trembling from the intensity of their shared kiss. Their eyes locked, and for a long moment, the world seemed to fade into nothingness as they simply stared at each other, breathless and wired.
Eric's lips curled into a dark, twisted smile. His gaze was cold, but there was a deadly glint there now—more dangerous that made Alaric's pulse race.
"You have my permission," Eric said, his voice low and almost tender, though the words were anything but. "To kill everyone in this prison."
The words hung heavy between them, and for a heartbeat, everything seemed to slow. Alaric's eyes widened, his expression shifting, the madness in him flickering to life as he took in the weight of what Eric had just said. His eye slowly was swallowed by black and his teeth sharpened in response, as he gazed into Eric's eyes.
Before Eric could react, Alaric's laughter burst from him, manic and wild, echoing off the stone walls of the prison like a symphony of chaos. It was a laugh full of madness, full of joy and violence, a sound that seemed to carry every dark desire Alaric had ever suppressed.
Eric watched him, his expression darkening with something that could only be described as adoration. There was no fear in his eyes—only fascination, only the deep, unsettling joy of watching Alaric unravel in front of him. It was as if the pieces were falling into place, as if everything had led to this moment.
Alaric looked down at Eric, his smile stretching wider, and the madness in his eyes reflected the same twisted thrill that Eric felt inside.
"As you wish." Alaric said softly.