Chapter Text
Guillermo is having a rough go of it.
Over a decade of working for those fucking assholes has taught him how to be hungry, how to ration a few shitty meals for days. And it’s not like he’s exercising, so he can manage a calorie deficit for a week (or, more realistically, 9-and-a-half days) in this box. But it still fucking sucks.
The paranoia started when Lazlo first nailed him in, but it didn’t kick in full-force until hour 12. Acceptance came quickly, after about 10 panicked erratic hours. He felt himself be loaded, strapped down, then the pseudo-pressure of God knows how many crates being stacked on top of him.
No, it’s not until hour 12, when two of the ship’s workers take a smoke break in the hold (which can't possibly be zoned for smoking). And fuck, what Guillermo wouldn’t give for a Marlboro Red right now. He scrambled to press his ear against the coffin and is able to make out “... don’t fuckin’ know, mate, Grant has been slackin’ off ever since Ken got promoted to night-manager, but what does it matter if some crates fall off? Worst case schenarier, we redo it and some rich fuck’s furniture gets busted. They ain’t gonna dock our pay, Rand knows OSHA’ll shut this shit down in a second if we complain.” And suddenly, Guillermo can’t breathe.
That’s what does it, the idea that he would die alone in a box somewhere in the Atlantic, crushed at any moment because some guy named Grant was slacking. What does it matter? Fuck, what does it matter.
His phone was at 97% when he got shoved in this godforsaken box. Cellular signals don’t reach this far into the ocean, and definitely not through whatever ship’s hull he’s trapped under. Logically, Guillermo knows that, but it doesn’t stop him from trying texting, calling, WeChat, Facebook Messenger, email, Snapchat, and Google Docs. Nothing works, his phone would be entirely useless without the screen’s light and the clock.
The clock is probably the only thing keeping him from going entirely insane.
And it’s like a sick game, how long can he go without checking? Because you can reserve battery life and go crazy, or use it to see that there’s no cellular reception and face an untold amount of time without any way to know how much time has passed. That’s the worst part of it, for Guillermo, that he wouldn’t be able to know how much more nothingness he has to endure. So far three days have passed, just under the halfway mark, and his phone is at 68%. He gave up on banging on the lid or screaming after his fists (and probably vocal chords) started bleeding for the second time. He isn’t thinking about Nandor, because that would be too painful. Instead, he thinks about Lazlo, and all the creative ways he’ll torture him.
Panic isn’t helpful, plotting is.
Step one of his plan is already complete: he’s stopped crying and schooled his emotions enough to be useful again. He can have about a liter of Pedialyte a day and not have to worry about running out, so long as the journey is at most 10 days. Step two is to buy a plane ticket home, where he’ll take public transportation to his mom’s house. Then, step 3, figure out some way to contact Nandor– probably involving ravens, knowing the council. Then, step 4, which is still mostly shapeless but involves sunlight and razorblades and Lazlo’s testicles (and not in a way he’d enjoy).
He’s trying to see how long he can hold his breath when he feels words he’d usually be disgusted by: Wake up, my love, I am very horny . And fuck, he’s never been so excited to intercede on the married couple’s quite frequent trysts. He panics and tries to send back a string of thoughts explaining what the fuck is going on– all he can really convey is panic bad help , and all he can make out (because telepathy is difficult when you’re panicking) is fuck Gizmo Lazlo relax . Guillermo doesn’t fully understand how the ether works, but he doesn’t really have to because within 15 minutes Nadja has ripped open his crate and coffin and pulled him out with nothing but vampiric strength.
And suddenly, his head was buried in the satiny folds of her traveling gown, and his face is wet. For the first time in four days, Guillermo lets himself cry. Big, ugly, gasping, desperate sobs that make him shudder and his head hurt.
She held him close, and rocked him back and forth while he shook. He was holding her back, face shoved against her shoulder, and letting himself feel everything in the visceral way he refused during the entire time in Lazlo’s coffin. “I– I’m so sorry, I’m going to get you all dirty, I–” She shushes him, and for once it doesn’t make him want to scream at her.
“No, it’s alright, Guillermo. Breathe, there we go sweet boy. There.” Her fingers are petting at his head, like one would a spooked horse, and it works. It’s only later, once he’s pulled away and realized how uncomfortable sitting on a shipping room floor is, that he realizes she was crying too.
Suddenly, his plan seems juvenile and useless. What does it matter? Nadja is still in need of a bodyguard, and Nandor has never been one for forgiveness. Nadja’s stomach grumbles before Guillermo can say something stupid, like “What do we do now?” Instead, he says “Let’s find you food,” because plotting is more useful than… whatever the fuck they were doing.
—
Nadja kills Grant the moment he steps into the shiphold because a girl’s gotta eat, and Guillermo steals his clothes because fuck that guy.
She gives him a once-over and sneers. “Hmm. Beige corduroy and tartan, that’s a very… strong fashion choice.”
The familiar just glares at her and gestures to the piss-and-shit-soaked pile of what used to be his clothes. “Beggars can’t be choosers, Nadja, and I’m definitely a beggar right now.” She just rolls her eyes and dabs at a streak of blood on her chin.
“You’re not a beggar. Very poor, maybe, but you have this nice comfy ship storage area! And I’m sure you can offer your body in exchange for food or a warm bed, if you’re too good for oreos and this nice cozy floor.” Guillermo’s still moping and scraping at some blood on his sleeve. “When I was a girl, do you know what I would’ve done for four walls, a roof, and a floor? We had huts, and thatched roofs. I got married to a man with a ceiling! Hard earth, tile.” Her voice was thin, eyes blank against the hull wall. “Many things from that man were shitty, but a true home?”
Guillermo isn’t good at talking about this sort of thing with her, so he doesn’t. “I hated New York when we moved here. There. I had just started first grade.” He pats the pockets of the stolen jacket, hoping to find a pack of cigarettes. “My father lost his job and cheated on my mom two weeks later. They thought moving across the country would fix it.” No such luck. “It didn’t. And I had to leave behind all of my friends and the city was so big – downtown, I mean, the buildings are so tall you can’t see the sun most’ve the day.” She’s looking at him, probably. He’s too scared to check. “We moved from a house to an apartment, and I hated that. My dad got a house when he moved out, but I hated it there, too.” He looks over at her, she’s staring at the wall again. “It’s like, wherever you go, there you are.” He’s looking at the wall again, too. “Anyways. I don’t know what I’m saying, I know what you went through was completely different–”
She shushes him.
“Yes. It was different. At the beginning, I was so… I don’t know. I knew what my marriage was, and there were some benefits. I was well fed, for the first time. My siblings had more to fight over.” Her long nails are rapping against the cold metal surrounding them, and her eyes are looking somewhere long past.
He starts, “Nadja, I–”
She rasps at him, “Don’t you fucking dare feel sorry for me. I know it was wrong and I shouldn’t’ve had to go through that, Gizmo. I was there.” Guillermo raises his hands in a somewhat placating gesture, she goes back to tapping against the cold metal.
From the folds of her dress she pulls out a cigarette, and he laughs. Fucking Hell. She lights it with a glare, pulls a long drag from it and holds it in undead lungs. She exhales, watching the pale smoke flume around them. Repeats it, the tip glowing orange. “I’d still do it again, if I had to. The only way for me to make anything of myself was to be a wife, and the second I could I killed him. So don’t you dare feel pity for me.”
He doesn’t say anything, but she passes him the cigarette and lets him keep all of his organs inside his body, so. Maybe they’ll never arrive, maybe he’ll spend the rest of his life smoking a cigarette in a metal tomb in the middle of the ocean.
—
They dock.
—
Disembarking from the boat is an ordeal, one that requires lots of hypnosis, threats, tits, and two excellent forgeries.
The drive over is… tense, to say the least. They were met by a rather tall and dispassionate man who gave the name of Nester the Emotionally Repressed. “It’s a traditional British name” was all that was offered after Nadja and Guillermo’s twin puzzled looks. He didn’t ask why a war-hardened familiar is there in place of the vampire’s husband, so they don’t push him on it.
After fifteen or so minutes in a limo with windows tinted too dark to be legal, Guillermo’s stomach growls. “God fucking dammit Gizmo, this day has been tiring enough can you please control your noises?”
He takes a deep breath in and out, forcing himself to not yell back. “Nadja, I have eaten nothing but oreos, pedialyte, and shipping vessel commissary slop for the past 9 days. If we don’t pull over to a fucking McDonalds drive-thru, I am going stake you myself.”
She almost looked impressed. Or aroused. It’s hard to tell with her.
When the car continues to lull forwards, Nadja hit Nester the Emotionally Repressed on the back of his head. “Well? You heard the imp, take us to the Mickey Donals!”
—
It’s a nice apartment. Guillermo doesn’t know exactly what he was expecting, probably something older, dirtier, more macabre. But it was nice, new-ish with a kitchen that won’t give him radiation poisoning and a living room that won’t give him tuberculosis. “Well, this is it.” Nadja huffs and throws down her own luggage (for once, she hadn’t thrown a fit about carrying it) and stalks through the place. “Not horrid, I suppose.”
“Nicest place I’ve ever lived.” “That’s very sad.”
He huffs and shoves her luggage aside to collapse on the couch face-down. His voice is muffled: “If we’re going to be living together, we need to come up with some rules.” She scoffs and kicks his bags, just to return the favor.
“We lived together for a decade without any complaint.”
She can hear him seething, even with his face in the couch cushions. It makes her smile, self-satisfied. “I complained a lot. And I’m not going to stay here unless I get a say.” Well. At least the human wasn’t eager to abandon her– she was still his mistress, and he was still his bodyguard.
“Fine.” She folds herself to sit on the couch next to him, primly picks at her cuticles. “I am willing to hear your demands.”
Guillermo sits up and smooths out his shirt. “Well, for starters, I’m getting my own room. I’m not sleeping on the couch or in a closet.”
Nadja shrugs. “I suppose that is acceptable. I’d like a human blood fountain in the hallway.”
“We are not getting a human blood fountain! Jesus Christ– sorry– how would we even keep that up?”
She snorts. “Fine, but I get to choose my room first.”
He sighs. “Fine. I want money– like, an actual livable wage.”
Nadja’s picking at her fingernails, but she hrms. “Alright. Is a thousand a week acceptable?” And Guillermo balks. “What?” She purses her lips. “Back when I was alive, a thousand drachma a week was an acceptable wage for servants.”
He takes a moment to collect himself. “I want USD, not drachma, but yes $1000 a week is… acceptable. For now.”
“Whatever humans are calling their moneys now, yes you can have a thousand of it a week. Vampires are very smart with our money, you know. I’m very good at divination, I have plenty of money. I was not going to rely on some man to take care of my funds, even my sweet bastard Lazlo.”
Guillermo’s sitting up now, frantically smoothing his hair back and shifting with his glasses. Nadja’s voice cuts through his shock. “No loud noises during the day.” That makes Guillermo huff– “I’m happy to be quiet during the day, as long as you don’t have a list of chores you make me do during the day.”
Nadja huffs right back at him. “How can I make you do anything? You’re a big strong slayer now, not some whimpering little familiar anymore.”
And fuck, Guillermo wishes they had a cigarette to share right now. Or just him. “C’mon, don’t get all pouty ‘cuz I’m not flinching away from you guys anymore. Pretty much stopped that when you fucked me six-ways from Sunday.”
She smiles at the memory, lightly hitting the back of his head. “Yes, that was a nice night. Alright. You do the clothes-washing and the dusting, and I will wash the floors and walls. Is that acceptable?”
Well. Shit. Nadja, his Nadja, offering to do chores. He never thought he’d live to see the day. He still might not. “Yes, that is acceptable. One last thing– no hypnotism.”
And she actually snorts, laughing at him. “Please. How long has it been since hypnotism has worked on you?” She laughs again when Guillermo’s eyes go wide and his skin pales. It’s nice to know that even though they’ve fucked and lived together for over a decade, she can still surprise him. It’s nice to keep men on their toes like that.
“W-What? What do you mean, you’re a vampire and I’m just a human, how could–”
Her laughter dies down. “Gizmo, don’t insult my intelligence. Honestly. I am a woman, I can tell these things.”
Guillermo processes for a moment, then nods to himself. “Well, I think that’s everything on my end. Should we… shake on it?”
Nadja gives him the side eye. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” He looks at her blankly, one eyebrow quirked. “I’m a vampire, and you’ve paid your dues. Aren’t you going to at least ask?” His cheeks go red, her smile darkens. One sharp talon reaches forwards to trace just above his neck– not touching his skin, not quite, but so close he can practically feel her. “I can hear your blood in your body, hear it rushing around. I can hear that right here would be the best place to bite.” Her fingernail digs into his flesh, he keens and unthinkingly leans his head to the side to make room for her. She smiles, eases up and leans in. “I’d hit the artery but not so much that it would spill, I wouldn’t want to waste a drop of your sweet blood.” She’s whispering now, but it’s loud against the blood rushing through his head. Lighting-fast, she presses a kiss to his skin. It burns like a brand. It’s ice cold. “Right here, it would hurt but the transition always does, and you’re big and strong, you’d survive– and I’m sure you like a bit of pleasure with your pain. What do you say?”
For the first time since this confusingly erotic escapade, she pulls back to look him in the eyes. He almost expects to see his blood ringing her mouth. He doesn’t know if he should be disappointed when he doesn’t see it. He says nothing. It’s an answer in and of itself.
Nadja pulls back and shrugs. “Figures. Well, you can’t say I didn’t try.” She dabs at the corner of her mouth with a handkerchief, as if there was something there to clean. “I’m sorry, I–” “Don’t be, I figured as much. You want it to be Nandor, don’t you?”
He says nothing. It’s an answer in and of itself.
Guillermo sighs and looks down. Fuck, a cigarette would be nice right now. “You probably think I’m being fussy and looking a gift-horse in the mouth.”
She just rolls her eyes and touches her lipstick up. “Of course you look a donkey that’s gifted to you in the mouth, if it has bad teeth or hoof-and-mouth disease it could infect your entire flock. Honestly, Gizmo, for a descendant of farmers you know nothing of animal husbandry.” “It means–” “I know what it means, it’s just a stupid expression. And no, I don’t blame you. This way we are…” She’s seemingly run out of little things to touch-up or play with, instead looking at him more earnestly than he knows how to handle. “Have you heard a vampire other than my husband tell you how they were turned? Nandor, the Guide, Simon, myself— any of us?”
He thinks for a moment. “No?” “And why do you think that might be?”
Guillermo shrugs. “Vampires don’t value me or see me as anything approaching an equal?”
Exasperated, Nadja rolls her eyes. “Well yes, but… come on, Guillermo. You were smart enough to not get eaten for over a decade.” He racks his mind for anything she’s said about her turning– usually, his mistress can’t shut up about herself, but there’s a hole in his knowledge of this rather crucial part of her life. “You told me something about snakes, uh.”
She doesn’t look at him. It seems to be a constant in their relationship. “The transition process is difficult. Painful, scary even.” She throws the words, spits them like acid, like once they’re out of her mouth they’re less true, less damning. “We act like it’s some grand gift we were bestowed, but most of us just… for whatever reason, a monster decided to play with its food. My sweet Lazlo deserved better than that, so I made sure it was pleasurable for him. Same with my Jenna, just without all the earth-shattering-orgasms part. Since you’re so Hell-bent on becoming a vampire, you at least deserve a choice in how it comes to pass.”
Neither of them say anything after that, the silence is only cut by Guillermo answering the door some unknown amount of time later. It’s some scrawny familiar of the Council with their food.
A wine bottle of O-neg and a Happy Meal.
—
It’s during the pandemic, they were left behind, and they have a rather nice place to live. Nadja is definitely the easiest to manage of all the vampires, she can dress herself and would swat Guillermo away if he attempted to help her with hair and makeup.
She’s messy, but in a way that feels genuinely careless and not intentional. Now that he only has to take care of one vampire his job is a million times easier than it used to be. Except, Nadja is hungry. Violently, all-consuming hunger. Guillermo is pretty sure she wouldn’t… kill him. But, there have been a lot less people walking around– almost zero, and she turns her nose up at the anti-maskers because they’d be “too gamey and stupid.”
Guillermo has noticed, as the days become weeks, that Nadja keeps looking at him like he’s meat– and any sort of thrill he could get out of such an experience is quickly replaced with fear. She always seems to have a glint in her eyes, looking at him a bit too long while they sip coffee and blood (respectively) on their couch or play wrong-poker (a game they made up while very high, where they both half-remembered how to play poker and didn’t want to admit their uncertainty). But other than that, other than being eyed like a choice cut of meat, things are pretty okay. Good, even.
The first time he seriously thinks about staking her (not that he ever would, probably), he’s in the kitchen during one of his rare breaks. He’s making a bowl of spicy ramen, and she’s talking with him instead of at him for once. And, it’s nice, almost like they’re normal roommates making a late-night snack. “And how many orgies a year is average for a human?” With a flourish of her hand she knocks over a glass. Without thinking, Guillermo reaches to pick it up, pointer finger swiping carelessly over the jagged edge. It’s not a big cut, not particularly bloody or painful, but he sees how she stiffens. “Nadja, are you–”
She looks at him with gold in her eyes. “It has been a very long time since I've had fresh blood, Guillermo.” Without breaking eye contact Nadja picks up the piece of glass that cut him, almost instinctively, and licks it clean (and her tongue coated in his blood absolutely does not light a fire in his belly). “You taste wonderful , Guillermo. I expected it to be sadder, or perhaps unresolved horny, but you’re just…” And his heart is thumping and stuttering, and she looks like a snake when she watches him, and something instinctive tells him to book it down the hallway. She doesn’t chase after him, or make any movement to follow him at all, but he doesn’t stop until he’s safely inside his bedroom.
He locks himself in and waits, forcing himself to read some stupid murder mystery pulp he got at a gas station. Time passes, probably 20 minutes, when he hears her gentle knocking at his door. “Guillermo? I made you your stew. I think I did it right, though it does smell a bit like rancid possum shit. Is it supposed to do that?”
Cautiously, he answers the door. Her hands are covered in a black ooze, which doesn’t bode well for the fate of the human food he’s about to ingest. “Um, no, but to be fair doesn’t all human food smell awful to you?”
“I can tolerate the smell of the zesty ranch buffalo wild wings.”
He swallows. “Right. Uh, I’m sorry, did you need me for something?”
She smooths out her dress and picks at a speck of nonexistent lint on her shirtwaist. “Yes, the miniature automated printing press is making an angry noise again, and I pulled out its heart but that just made it worse.”
Guillermo quirks an eyebrow, annoyance overtaking the gripping fear he had just felt. “By its heart, do you mean the ink cartridge?”
She just sighs. “Does it look like I know what I mean?” For a moment, he’s reminded that she’s ancient, centuries older than him, and trying desperately to be a somewhat acceptable housemate.
He heaves a breath, making his way out of the room. “Okay, okay I think we have a replacement.” But before he leaves, she presses the bowl into his hands. It looks and smells… perfectly appetizing. Normal. “Did you… how did you?”
“Fuck’s sake, Gizmo, I used to cook for seven siblings and my mama and yaya and a very useless pigshit husband, I can make some pauper’s stew. Eat this before you do the rest of your chores, you’re low on iron and I don’t want you passing out on me.” “How do you–?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Right. Uh, of course. I’ll, um.”
Then, before he can retreat back to his bed and figure out what the fuck all of these feelings mean, her cold hand is wrapped around his wrist. She’s looking him in the eyes, and despite how much he wants to he can’t make himself look away. “I do not like the knowledge that I gave you such a fright, Guillermo.”
He swallows hard again. “It’s okay.”
Nadja looks sad, remorseful even, when she speaks. She pats his cheek and it feels more tender than anything. “Yes, I suppose you would say that. Still.” It feels like an apology.
—
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about. Three queens.”
“Bullshit.” And fuck this little fucking human for daring to speak to her in such a to – oh right, that’s the game. “And you’re, like, letting me go out and spend money and stuff, without yelling. You cooked for me, and let me help decorate when I know you’re super picky about interior design. I’m not complaining, I just want to know why.” Nadja didn’t say anything, just rapped her nails against the coffee table they picked out together. “Uh, two kings.”
“If you pity me, or I even think you’re thinking of pitying me, I will take off all your fingernails and fashion them into a necklace, yes?” Maybe once, that would’ve made him cower or worry. But now it just felt endearing, all the effort she put into different elaborate tortures and deaths to threaten him with. “I’ve lost many people. It’s just part of eternal life, yes? They die, and I can’t help but survive because I’m already dead. But.” She threw her cards down. “Three aces.” “Bullshit.” It was. “We lost Colin Robinson, who I suppose I did care about. And now my Lazlo is gone, and I fucking hate him more than I knew it was possible to hate someone and I miss him so much it aches. And even Nandor, and I’ve had to leave my home and I’m stuck on this fucking island where the sun doesn’t shine but not in a good way.”
“Two twos.”
“Bullshit.” He flips the cards over to prove her wrong, but there’s not much glee as she takes them. “Anyways. You are the only person from that part of my life who has stayed with me, and it was only because you were forced to. I do not want… Before, I know we treated you poorly much of the time, and you left. I do not want…” Fuck, words feel so disgustingly human right now. “One three.”
“I have a credit card, you know. One four.”
“Congratulations? Three fives.”
“Bullshit. And I also have an internet connection, even though it’s shitty because you won’t get the–” “ Shut the fuck up about the Verizon 5g Wireless bundle, I have no idea what any of those words mean! ” He laughed at her. “Two sixes. And, what I mean is that I’m not stuck here, I could go home at any time. I’m choosing to be here with you.”
It strikes Nadja to know that she’s been chosen, that Gizmo is so fond of her. Even though he’s just a puny little human who’s aggravating and nips at Nandor’s heel and is so desperate for this cursed way of life it should be concerning… She can’t help but share the sentiment. Just a bit. It’s maybe not heartwarming, since her own heart is rather out of commission, but good to know all the same.
“I know you want this life, but there is an exchange. A trade you make when you become a vampire. The thing you lose when you become a vampire is the ability to change. You are stuck, frozen, and the world changes around you faster than your mind is able to comprehend. I know you want this, but just know that things will change and all you will be able to do is watch. The plot of land in which you bury your family will become a highway. You cannot even find their headstone, and then you'll stop going back. Three sevens.”
“Bullshit. I… I’m sorry, Nadja, that’s awful.
‘It’s being a vampire.”
“I… I feel bad doing this, but one eight. I win.”
“Bullshit!” It wasn’t. “Fuck you! How are you so good at this game?”
“I’ve been playing it for a while, and you always put a random card down when you say you have three of a kind. Also, you have a big tell.” He purses his lips together with a smug grin. “I can see the reflection of your cards in your necklace.” Appalled, she looks down at the polished oval of obsidian. With surprising force and accuracy she flings her cards (most of the deck at this point) at Guillermo.
“Oh you fucking evil little cock-sucking shit fucker! I will kill you, I am absolutely…”
—
A few days later, they’re still in their fragile halfway peace, and Nadja is hungry. Like, vocally, ravenously, dangerously hungry. She’s burned through any backup supply they had, and her only fresh meal in weeks had been an unlucky duo taking a sunset hot-girl walk . The council sends out rations of blood, but even that isn’t enough. They’re sitting in silence, Guillermo crocheting some little mittens for baby cousin and Najda doing a needlepoint of a goat having a difficult time.
Nadja speaks without looking up. “You know, Guillermo, I am rather hungry.” It’s enough for him to still and lose count of how many are in his current chain.
He clears his throat. “Um. I’m sorry? If you’d like, I could go out and try to find you–”
“There’s nobody left, I don’t think.” There’s something final in her tone of voice.
Guillermo nods. “Well, uh, I don’t know what you want me to do, but…” She snorts.
“I think you have a good enough idea, Guillermo. That little taste I got of you was…” She nips at the air, smiling at him. “I’ll make it good for you, I promise.”
Well. It seems he has very few options here: Nadja is clearly barely restraining herself, and really, would it be that bad? She flashed big puppy dog eyes, and of all the vampires in the house she was probably the least likely to get carried away (and if she did, would it really be that bad? Had he not had hundreds of erotic dreams about this exact scenario?). It certainly isn’t the hardest decision he’s ever had to make. “Alright, fine, you can bite me.”
She had the decency to look surprised. “Wha– really?”
“Yes, fine. But just a little. I don’t want to die.”
“I thought that was the whole point of you being our little dormouse-shitboy for the past twelve years?” Nadja smirked, something knowing, and leaned over him in a way that definitely didn’t make his heart shudder. “Do you want to save yourself for Nandor?”
He threw up his hands. “And suddenly, I revoke my offer!”
“You know that I could do it without your permission.” She said it darkly, licking her lips.
“Could you?” She’d seen him kill nearly forty vampires at the theatre massacre, and knew he’d killed countless others– to protect her. And he knew that she knew, and she knew that he knew that, and– “ Would you?” And isn’t that just a kick in the head?
And he knows in that instant that even though Nadja is a bloodthirsty killer, one who has a body count probably in the tens of thousands, she won’t drink his blood if he doesn't consent. There was something powerful about that feeling, the knowledge that this beautiful, powerful creature besides him cared about him enough to not cross that boundary.
She switched back to dirty tactics, looking up at him with soft pleading eyes. “Please, Guillermo, I’m so hungry...”
He sighed, and it’s not like he was really planning on denying her. “Fine, fine.” He undid the top two buttons of his shirt and shifted back on the couch.
Nadja nodded at him, brushing her hair over her right shoulder. She was strangely revenant about it; she tutted at the position he had reclined him and shifted him around so he was laying mostly on his back. A pillow was fluffed and placed under his head, cold, lifeless fingers cradled his wrist. She pressed the briefest of kisses against his pulse point. “Tell me to stop and I will.” With that, she bit down, and it– hm . It hurt, obviously, ripping open flesh tends to do that, but there was something numbing about her bite. He couldn’t move his neck, and with every passing moment the burning pain started to fade away. It wasn’t pleasurable, not exactly, but certainly not the worst thing he had ever felt.
Nadja pulled off of him and the look in her eyes made him moan. Hungry, possessive, grateful . “You taste unholy, Guillermo. And you can put your hand on my head, in my hair– I like that.” Nadja had never been one to shy away from things that gave her pleasure, and when she wrapped her mouth back around his weeping wound she moaned at the feeling of Guillermo’s blood in her mouth and fingernails scratching at the crown of her head, tracing delightful circles and listening to his own soft breathy moans.
It started feeling good after that, the rhythmic sucking and pulling from Nadja, his own fingers running through the silky strands of her hair, thick and textured unlike someone’s (don’t think about him during this), shoots of warmth and pleasure all blossoming from the point on his neck. Fuck, this must be a combination of venom and the primal knowledge that he’s being held down and consumed by a gorgeous creature, but he felt more relaxed than he had in decades– his entire life, perhaps. His entire existence and awareness was reduced to their one point of contact.
When she’d drawn her fill she pulled back, and the way she delicately dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a handkerchief definitely didn’t send a wave of arousal through him. Teeth being pulled out of his flesh didn’t make him shiver. She licked his blood from her stained lips– nothing strange about finding that brutally arousing, obviously.
And maybe it would be too much, if she didn’t nod at him appraisingly and lick her fingers– as if she’s unwilling to lose even one drop of him. “How was that for you, Gizmo? Everything your dark little fantasies told you it would be?” And really, there’s no point in denying that he’s had such fantasies– not after the two of them have yelled at competitive cooking shows together, not after she helped him decorate his own room because We kept you in a closet for a decade, I suppose you’ve earned this, not after she’d enacted that very fantasy for him. And even though her tone was teasing, he knew that she was genuinely concerned, wanted to make sure she hadn’t accidentally gone too far.
His voice was shaking when he spoke: “Good, very good, I…”
Nadja smirked at that and ruffled his hair with a glint in her eyes. “Very good! I told you I’d make it good for you, Guillermo.” And usually he’d have something witty, or at least sorta biting, to say but all of his energy had been drained out through his neck and replaced any semblance of thought with warm soupy contentment.
His silence made her worry for a moment, so she (as kindly as she’s capable of asking) asked “Do you want… human food? Do we even have human food that you like?”
He gestured vaguely towards the kitchen that only he ever used. “I’ll make myself a sandwich or somethin’ when the room stops spinning.” And that made her huff.
“Guillermo, I will make you a sandy-witch, I think I still have the number of a local coven written on my Thursday-night bustier– now those girls can throw an orgy – though I don’t know what that does about your hunger.”
He started “Really, I can–”
She huffed, loudly, and forced out “I am trying to take care of you! I have come to see you as…” She looked sternly at the wall behind him, “more than the typical, simpering worthless human, and I do not want to feel like I have taken advantage of you.”
Well. Fuck. “There’s a box of rice pilaf, if you’re willing to cook it.” She nodded, resurfacing once to show him a box of Rice-a-Roni.
Maybe, in another life in another world, they’d be friends hanging out after work at a normal job, eating instant food and hanging out on a couch. Is that what normal adult friends do? He never really learned. It was surprisingly nice, resting on a couch while someone he had grown to care about so much cooked for him. It smelled perfectly good; she brought him the pan (which she held in her bare hands, not that that should surprise him) to ask if the rice mixture was sufficiently browned, which it had, and then returned to the kitchen. “Hey, thanks again for cooking for me!” he yelled from the couch.
“You need to eat if you will stay strong and hard!” He laughed at her word choice, but didn’t say anything else. She came out with a bowl, part of a painted ceramic set the two picked out from a yard sale, and pressed it into his hands. Fuck, it smelled mouth-wateringly good and looked normal. She preened at his hungry expression. “Careful, Gizmo, you look like me!”
And maybe if this was before , he would’ve cowed or stuttered, but instead he just eats. And fuck, it’s warm and salty and carbohydrates – he scarfs down half the bowl before he notices Nadja’s expression. “It’s good, really good– thank you.”
She gives a little hrmpf . “Not like it was very hard, just mixed the rice and butter and cooked the damn thing. Humans these days, you eat whatever is easy. When I was alive– oh, one whole week of cooking just for Saturday dinners. When I was little we fought for the scraps the adults didn’t want, but once I was old enough to cook for a home? Oh, I’d spend hours just making a sauce, or churning butter. Have you ever churned butter?” Guillermo had noticed that she had the tendency to do this, sometimes, to talk about her long existence in the early hours of the morning. These little moments and stories were precious: never anything too personal, not beyond what he already knew at least, but he knew that when the sun hit the water at the right time it looked like glass, he knew that she learned local magic from every place she went, he knew she had been a part of every feminist movement except burning her bras because my undergarments are far too precious, and my breasts would hurt without it . His rice was warm and filling, and he is more than content to listen to her recount stories while he eats.
“--And we had to make cheese from the donkey’s milk! We tried to steal from the goats, of course, but the goat-farmer threatened to have us stoned if he caught us again, so we made do. It doesn’t want to be cheese, donkey’s milk, so we had to eat the curds and drink whatever was left over! Not to mention we had no female donkeys…” She trailed off, looking intently at Guillermo. At his neck.
“Nadja, is–” “Your neck is purple where I bit you.” She said it strictly, almost guiltily.
Guillermo shrugged. “Uh, yeah probably, I mean that sorta thing will bruise.” She reached out with delicate fingers, they traced over his wound like a ghost.
It made him flinch and hiss, the skin is tender there, sue him, and if he didn’t know better he’d say the look on her face was concern. “Did it hurt terribly? I didn’t mean to leave such damage.” You’re a vampire who kills and eats people he doesn’t say. He also doesn’t think about how her gentle touch sends little bolts of warmth and desire through him.
“It-It’s fine, Nadja, really. It felt good more than it felt bad, and I told you to.” She hums, more to herself than anything, and runs her thumb over the mark. It hurts, obviously, but he doesn’t say that. Instead, he just sighs and leans into her touch.
“I would try something if you let me.”
He nods his approval before fully understanding what he’s doing, and then– oh, wow, her warm tongue is on his skin ( how did it get warm ) and it’s lapping at the scabs. It doesn’t hurt, the opposite actually, it feels blissfully good and he whines when she pulls away. “W-what was–”
Nadja keeps looking at his neck, seemingly liking what she sees. “The venom in my mouth can heal a bit, and it numbs. I wanted to…” Guillermo reaches his hand up to feel at his neck, and the bumps do feel less pronounced and tender.
“Thank you.”
She hums to herself, but while she’s pulling back her eyes trail down, and– “Gizmo, are you hard?”
He can feel how red his cheeks get that instant. “It’s a very normal response to blood loss, I’ll have you know.”
Nadja’s tone is teasing when she speaks. “Hmm, that sounds like something you’d know a lot about? Ways to explain away stiffness around vampires.” She takes the hand that isn’t holding his dinner and fucking licks his palm, all the way up to the tip of his index finger. Something in her gaze darkened. “Would you like to fuck me? You’re not bad to look at, good skin, all your teeth. And you can take directions so well .”
He went mute, eyes wide, but then– fuck it. She’s gorgeous, and willing, and the first time was incredible. Hadn’t he earned a good fucking by someone as beautiful and talented as Nadja? “Yes, I would like to fuck you.”
She smiled and hummed, very pleased with herself. “I must say, I feel rather special that you’d like to have sexytimes with me, I thought you didn’t like women in this way? Not that I’m complaining.”
He laughed, shoveling another heaping spoonful of rice. “We’ve literally already had sex.”
“Yes, but that was different. It was a threesome, and my husband was there, and it was easy to be playful and take it less-than-serious.” He couldn’t speak. “And this is after you have already shared with me a great piece of yourself.”
Guillermo didn’t really know what to say, so he decided to be honest. “I… I’ve been with people a few more times since, and that was still the best sex I’ve ever had.”
Nadja preened at the approval ( Dios mio, was there anyone from that fucking house that didn’t go red at praise?). “The best sex of your existence was with my donkeyshit husband? That isn’t right, I must rectify this immediately.” She pulls the now-empty bowl from his hands. “But, sweet boy, if you don’t make me come I’ll rip off your head. I refuse to sleep with a man if he won’t meet my needs.”
And fuck, this is really happening, he’s undoing the buttons of his vest on the shitty scratchy couch that they chose together. “A-as you should.” He shivers, then drops the offending garment into the floor below. “What would you like me to do? H-how do I make sure you don’t have to rip off my head?”
Nadja pats his cheek with that same amused smile. “Darling slut for me,” and that should not make him purr the way that it does. Her eyes rake him up and down, it feels hungry and appraising. Eventually, she nods to herself. “Last time we did this, you did not get to fuck me. Would you like to? Put your nice little cock in me?” He’s speechless but nods. “I’d like that as well, but first I think you need to earn it, don’t you?”
And, well. This is a game Guillermo knows how to play. He nods, “Yes, mistress.” Her face lights up with something like glee and anticipation.
“Oh, you are a sweet little slut aren’t you? I think I’d like you to use your mouth on me again, it was so wonderful the first time.” He doesn’t need much more instruction than that; he falls to his knees and spreads her legs reverently. She’s already done most of the hard work of removing her clothing, leaving only a sheer long skirt-underdress-thing he bunches up to her thighs.
Just as he leans in to do… whatever he’s going to do, Nadja presses the pad of her middle finger against his forehead. Guillermo looks up at her, eyes wide, and she looks down at him. It feels something like worship. “Would you like a pillow for your knees?” The question almost makes him melt.
“I’ve knelt for longer and for worse reasons,” he’s absentmindedly tracing little circles and loops against the soft flesh of her inner thigh, “but thank you anyways.” It’s emotionally charged, the moment, gentle and warm as he leans in. He kisses the tender flesh of her inner thigh and she shivers, sighing as he presses soft pecks all the way up her leg.
“Hmm, very nice, sweet boy.” After a split-second of deliberation he bites her, sucking and worrying his teeth on the left leg a few inches below the crux of her thighs, hard enough to leave a bruise. She lets out a breathy, keening moan that makes him stiffen in his trousers, enraptured by the sight of his teeth imprinted in pink on her creamy skin. “On with it, Guillermo.” And he’s nothing if not a diligent servant.
The first lick to her center is tentative (he doesn’t have much experience with this particular anatomy, sue him). The second is less so, less of a lick and more of a long stripe up her crease with a flat tongue, then his thumb gently parts her lips and he goes again, a bit more pressure this time. On the fourth lap of his tongue he finds her clit (not like it’s difficult, there’s like 2x1 inches of her skin and a button at the top that makes her shiver) and brings it gently into his mouth, laving the delicate organ with attention and sucking it generally the same as he would the head of a cock. Feeling daring, he uses just a hint of teeth and that makes her hands slam into his hair.
She scratches and pulls, which he takes as a compliment. “In me, please Guillermo, I want something in me.” He remembers from their first time that his tongue inside her didn’t do much, so he pulls off her to lubricate two of his fingers with his own saliva (and they taste like her, salty and human and sacreligious) then slides them both in.
He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, this sort of thing has always been done to him and he’d only ever enjoyed it when it was Nadja’s fingers inside him. He didn’t even have to ask her what to do– “Very good boy,” he squeaked, she laughed, “now shallow motions, don’t be thrusting in and out like it’s a cock, but curl your fingers up and stroke there for me, sweet boy, there we go…” She squirmed around a bit, trying to help Guillermo with whatever this was.
“How will I know if–” She shushed him, patting her hand against the crown of his head.
“Trust me, you’ll know when you make me see stars, don’t worry your pretty little stupid head. I am very loud. Besides, doesn’t your mouth have something better to do?” And to be fair she is correct, so Guillermo leans back in to run his tongue along her wetness and suck her clit into his mouth again. Doing so makes her sigh and grip his hair so hard it feels like the strands might be pulled out. She rasps “ yes, yes, good Guillermo, sweet slut , such a darling little whore just for me, press your fingers in harder and up .” He does as she instructs, still laving attention on her with his tongue and lips, but he crooks his fingers just right and– “ Fuck yes Guillermo, very good right there keep going I’m very close– ”
He felt her orgasm through his fingers and mouth, which is an insane headrush and probably too much for a mere mortal such as himself to process, but filth flowed from his mistress’ mouth, mostly very good boy for me and don’t you dare fucking stop. He keeps going, sucking and fucking and stroking her, listening to honeyed threats of I’ll flay you alive fall from her lips. She collapses back against the couch, mostly still, and then swats him away.
He comes back to himself at the sight of her, flushed and panting, looking down at him with affection and one leg thrown over his shoulder (when had she done that?). Nadja pats his cheek, looking down at him benevolently. “That was very very good Guillermo, darling boy. So good for me. You swear you haven’t been with any women other than me and Church-girl?” He snorts, then looks at the bruise he left on her inner thigh.
“I swear, mistress .” The title sends a little shiver up her, and she adjusts her position so she’s lounged against the couch. She pats the cushion, a signal for him to get up and join her, and snorts out a laugh when his knees pop. Wordlessly, she raises an eyebrow, and Guillermo answers. “Worth it, Nadja.” Then, he sits next to her, and it’s awkward. He’s still fully dressed save for his vest and some buttons, and she’s looking at him like she could eat him. Again.
“I don’t really know–”
“Shhh. I do. You want to fuck me still?” He nods, because how could he not want that, and absentmindedly picks at his fingernails. She must notice his apprehension because she softens and reaches to pull off his shirt. “I remember this from last time, sweet boy. Finish taking your clothes off for me.” He does, standing up to peel off his khakis and boxers, standing entirely bare in front of this gorgeous vampire. She licks her lips at him, and laughs when he audibly swallows. “I’ve had my fill of you already, don’t worry. I’m hungry for something else now.”
She twists them around on the couch so he’s laying on his back with his head propped up on a pillow, looking up at her. Her hair flowing down her back and over her breasts and contrasting her pale skin, and she leans in to press a little peck against the tip of his nose. “Lay back for me, my big strong slayer. ” She sees how Guillermo preens at the title and barely restrains herself from rolling her eyes– human men are so easy. “Now, I am going to ride you, yes?” He just nods dumbly and watches her hand travel down his front, watches it stroke at his cock and coax it to be impossibly harder than it already was. She honest-to-god giggles at it, but it doesn’t feel mean, it sounds melodic and adoring. “Very nice, Guillermo. I cannot wait to have this inside me.” And he believes her, believes it in the way she kisses him, first on the lips then down his jaw, down to the mark she left not an hour ago. He doesn’t even entertain the idea that she’d bite him again, and that has to say something about his confidence in her self control and decency. No, he just enjoys the rasp of her lips against the still somewhat-tender spot, and distantly fantasizes about next time.
The way Nadja slides down onto him feels biblical, warm and firm and alive around him in one smooth motion. It feels like breathing in, like coming home, like whatever else the poets write about. He shivers as she rocks back and forth on him, getting a feel for him inside of her. Whatever she feels, she clearly likes, because she reaches down to tweak his nipple (and that shouldn’t feel as good as it does). “Very nice indeed, it fills all of me but doesn’t hurt.”
Guillermo doesn’t really know what to say about that, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that, but she fills in the blanks for him. “No, this just feels very very pleasurable, and I’m already all loose and happy from the first orgasm you gave me tonight.” She’s riding him– he wishes he could offer more, but he doesn’t really know what he would do and Nadja seems perfectly happy being in control. It feels beyond incredible, seeing her beautiful nude form on top of him, the gentle curves of her stomach and the swells of her breasts, her soft thighs clamped around him, thrusting and bouncing.
Nadja’s squeezing and twisting on him, but it doesn’t feel like she’s using him. It’s not romantic, exactly, but there’s more to their relationship than friends. It has to be something about living together for 12 years, knowing everything about each other’s lives and hopes and sorrows– or maybe it’s just having sex with someone like Nadja, gorgeous and confident and extremely talented at the art of making love. It doesn’t feel dirty, or rushed, or shameful. The way she’s moaning, and fuck he’s moaning too, he’s raised his hand to cradle her jaw and she took it, kisses his palm and sucks the tip of his finger into her mouth. “Fucking hell, Guillermo, you’re lovely inside of me.”
Still, though, that wasn’t enough. Guillermo wanted her to be delirious with pleasure so he trails his other hand down to where they’re connected, fondles where he entered her and her clit. She whines, and it sounds like a hymn. He’s close, breathtakingly desperately close, and from how erratic her movements are getting she is too. He grunts out “Fuck, Nadj- aah , I’m–”
Her eyes focus down on him, and she practically purrs. “Are you going to come for me, sweet boy? My good boy, big strong slayer, protector, won’t you be a good boy and come for me?”
And Guillermo is nothing if not a loyal servant.
He whites out, shaking, unable to do much more than whimper and blindly thrust and hope his vampire is getting as much out of this as he is. Once he’s able to fall back to himself, piece by piece, he sees Nadja trembling from her own orgasm. Her moans sound like psalms, melodic and beautiful, and he takes some pride in knowing that his body was able to give hers such pleasure. She’s been gasping out a litany of praises and threats, which have become one and the same to Guillermo at this point, and the tips of her fangs poking out of her mouth as she bites her lip is incredibly endearing. With one last thrust onto him she stills, takes a shuddering breath, and collapses onto Guillermo.
It’s nice.
They’re still connected, which both of them are surprisingly fine with. She cushions her head onto his chest and presses little kisses wherever her mouth can reach, he returns the gesture by running his fingers through her hair. “That was good for you, Guillermo?”
And the question makes him laugh. Almost. Because it’s absurd, because of course that was a fucking incredible experience for him, and because it’s not funny at all but he knows that it’s crucial to Nadja to know that he enjoyed himself. He doesn’t laugh, instead he just scratches at her scalp in a way he knows will make her melt. “Fantastic, Nadja. Thank you for sharing this with me.” She burrows into him.
“Next time, I am going to bite your neck and take you into me; I want to taste your blood when I make you come.” He whined into the pillow, and if he hadn’t already been thoroughly drained he’d probably get hard, but instead he just pulled her arms tighter around his midsection. “That is, if you consent, of course.”
Guillermo let out a breathy laugh– “Already can’t wait, Nadja.”
“Sweet boy indeed.”
—
They’re driving, because Guillermo needs practice driving on the left side of the road and Nadja is looking for a meal (and doesn’t want to be alone).
“May I ask you something, Guillermo?” And she’s 1.) asking him something and 2.) calling him by his actual name, which is nothing short of miraculous, so of course he agrees. “Do you remember a few years ago, when we were talking about the sex?” That makes Guillermo laugh as he clicks his turn signal.
“Sorry, Nadja, but you need to be a bit more specific. The time I walked in on the roommate foursome? Threesome? Or the orgy? Or the time the meeting with the camera crew became an orgy? Or when I had to talk with the Guide about workplace sexual harassment? Or when–”
“Okay enough! I get it, we talk about sexytimes a lot.” Guillermo was still laughing, but it felt like it was with her not at her, and it is a bit funny. And they’ve had sexytimes of their own, twice now, so it’s not as if he has any right to be some blushing virgin about it. “It was shortly after you got the poisoning? And you talked about sex with your parents?”
The human blushed at that. “Uh, I wouldn’t phrase it exactly like that, but yeah. Like, all the catholic repression?” Nadja hums at him, then quickly points out the window.
“Do you think he would be a good meal?” The man in question is clearly blackout drunk on a Tuesday night (or maybe Wednesday morning? Time is a bit meaningless).
Guillermo considers it, then drives away. “No, he looks like a businessman, and whenever you eat businessmen you make me explain crypto. Maybe her?”
Nadja scoffed. “A woman jogging alone at night? Do you want to be a part of the problem, Guillermo?” He switched lanes to make a right turn (and fuck he hates driving in this part of the world) while Nadja continues. “You said that you were taught it is a big flaming mark-the-soul sin to fuck a woman you aren’t married to just for the sake of pleasure.” It isn’t a question, but Guillermo still feels the need to agree with her. He opts to stay silent. Nadja turns to look at him. “Is that how you feel? When we fucked, is that another reason you’re going to your Hell?”
And isn’t that an awful question to answer. “I mean. I’m probably going to Hell for all the murder stuff first, right? I don’t know, I mean I think St. Peter has a pretty long list before we get to sexual immorality. And I don’t even know if I believe in Hell anymore, or if I believe in the same way I was taught.” Nadja had started drumming her red nails against the dashboard while Guillermo spoke, the perfect ovals clicking against the cheap acrylic.
“Yes, but that’s not what I asked. We fucked, not married, because it feels good. I’m married to someone else, and I can’t even get pregnant so I suppose all sex I have is evil.”
And Guillermo's answer is more honest than he intended it to be. “It didn't feel wrong. It felt very, very right. And I don’t believe that, not anymore. Or at least I’m not willing to live my life for a Go– Guy who will send me to Hell for having a good time with my friend .” She smiles at him, cherishing the way friend feels spoken about her.
Nadja straightens up in the car seat. “For what it’s worth, I’ve had the sort of sex you talk about. Married, for a child, all about duty. Duty duty duty , no pleasure, at least not for the wife. It’s never about the wife . That felt far more wrong than fucking you. If one of you are going to Hell for how you fucked me, it shouldn’t be you.” And Guillermo knows better than to apologize, or to tell her that she’s strong and worth more and deserving of all the pleasure he can give.
No, Guillermo knows better. Instead, he says “That’s worth a lot.” And Nadja knows what he means, she knows it by how gently he touches her and how he asks ‘how can I make you come’ like her orgasm is the most important thing in the world. He taps the brakes and points out the car window. “What about him?” He’s drunk but not repulsively so, standing over a woman sitting at the bus stop and visibly making her uncomfortable. Her eyes flash silver and she smiles the same predatory smile (and oh, fuck, he’s Pavloved himself into getting aroused by that, this is definitely an HR violation).
“Yes, Guillermo, he’ll do very nicely.”