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For the first time in centuries, Vesper Noir wonders if he's going to die.
All he needs to do is get down the hall to his room without falling apart. It should be simple but it's an impossible distance. Herculean. Everything hurts-- his head, his stomach, every bone, muscle, and tendon. The pain gets worse with each halting step, slowly cutting his body apart until even the pressure of the tiles on his feet is too much to bear.
He's lived a long life. Maybe too long, in human terms. Vesper resists the urge to collapse and let himself rot away in a dark corner somewhere, alone as always. All of his days have been spent in hiding, learning how to be human, how to be trustworthy and pleasant and solitary enough to avoid detection.
Joining Tempus was a mistake. He knows that now, and the knowledge is a bitter barb. Every second is a risk and a calculation, continuing his fight to sustain his facade. He can't let them understand the horror of the wolf they've let into the fold, or all the things he's done to keep his deadly secret.
But the truth is heavy. The truth is a blessed stake in his unbeating heart, death only a few seconds away. No one can know. Vesper wants more than anything to let go and disappear like he always does, but the loneliness he'd once been accustomed to now repulses him. He's found what he thought he'd never have: friends, a home, love, loyalty.
And it's made him weak.
He isn't who he used to be. He curses himself daily for how soft he's gotten-- how dare he prefer this gilded cage to the thorny, ever-shifting danger of freedom-- but he can't fight its allure anymore.
The hallway blurs, doubles, and tilts wildly. Vesper almost loses his footing and clings to the nearest wall for support. This can't be happening. He's been eating well-- both for his human side and his less human side. It shouldn't be happening. Despite raising his daily portion from the bare minimum to as much as his current supply will allow, it's had no effect.
A wave of delirious nausea is setting in. Blood withdrawal. All too familiar.
Vesper tries to think logically, as usual, but it's hard to get his facts straight when the rest of the world is busy distorting itself in every possible direction. Maybe his reservoir has gotten too old or rotten. The stash he's been feeding on is from a months-old kill. He hasn't wanted to hunt down fresh prey in a long time.
But it still doesn't make sense. From his best estimation, he's been sick for a week at most. If his rations really have started to rot, he would have felt himself getting worse much slower and earlier. Withdrawal doesn't come on in a rush like this. This is something else.
"Vesper?"
Altare's voice, calling to him from what could be miles away or a few feet. The sounds around him are hollow and muffled, like Vesper's submerged underwater. He tries to straighten up and look his guild leader in the eye, but the room starts to spiral down once again, and he's forced to keep his gaze fixed firmly on the tiles.
"Ves. Can you stand?" A hand is supporting his arm, insistent but gentle. "I'm here. You're gonna be okay."
"Altare..." His voice shakes on both syllables, but no matter how much he tries, he can't steady it. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine."
"No, no, no, you're not. Here, sit down."
Altare is much stronger than he looks. He always has been. He slowly helps Vesper to the ground until he's sitting semi-comfortably against the wall. The stability of the wood panels on his back stops some of the room's movement around him. Vesper hides his face in his hands, trying to get the rest of the vertigo to go away and leave him in peace.
"I'll be back soon, okay? Don't move. Just wait."
It's not like Vesper can just get up and walk away. He forces himself to breathe deeply and keep his recent meal down. Throwing up won't help his human side or his vampire side. He can't risk feeding in front of Altare, or, God forbid, he loses control entirely and attacks Altare... or another of his friends... Killing lost its joy for him a long time ago. Now he can't even bring himself to do it out of pure necessity. He hates feeling like he's lost control; his mind gets unbearably foggy as hunger takes over. It's a question that's troubled him for a long time now. How much of him has devolved into a bloodthirsty animal, and how much is still human? Should he even be around humans anymore?
Vesper makes up his mind. As soon as his symptoms subside, he needs to get the hell out. He'll fabricate some excuses for Altare and the others, and they'll never see him again. It'll hurt, but temporary pain is infinitely better than what he'll have to live with if he kills one of them.
Footsteps click up the tile hallway back to him. Vesper shies away, but he can't bring himself to shake off Altare's hand trying to help him up.
"Come with me." His voice has always been soothing, and it brushes over Vesper's tortured psyche like a cool breeze. "I can help you."
"No," Vesper mumbles vaguely. "Don't. Save yourself."
But he can't pull away when Altare takes his hand and starts guiding him down the hall to his room. He just lets himself be led, relieved to finally have something to lean on. With Altare to anchor him, the world around him moves a bit slower, or at least slowly enough for him to keep up.
"Lay down. Try to get comfortable." Altare delicately settles him down on his bed, pushing a pillow under his back to help him sit up. "Lean on me if you have to. It's okay."
The room is too dim for Vesper to see anything, but he finally stops feeling like someone's stabbing his eyes out with ice picks. For the first time in weeks, he lets himself relax. He still hurts, but knowing a friendly face is nearby makes it a little more bearable.
"That's it." Altare wraps a protective arm around his shoulders, warming him. "Ves, what's happening to you? Are you sick? I've never seen you like this."
"Long story," is all he's able to say. "Altare... it's not safe for you to be around me..."
"You have to start taking better care of yourself," the guild leader says gently as he smooths Vesper's sweaty hair off his forehead. Every touch leaves an icy burn on his oversensitive skin. "You didn't even react when I spiked your tea with holy water. Brushed it off when the crucifix under your bed burned you. Or when I replaced your blood rations with cow's blood from the slaughterhouse."
Feeble fear and anger surge in his chest. He tries to push Altare off of him, but he's too weak to try and break free. "You..."
"Yes. I know your little secret. I've known for a while." Altare just giggles, dull and humorless. "I'll admit, I was scared at first. I thought about killing you. I could have done it easily. And then I realized you weren't a threat to anyone."
"You should have killed me," Vesper hisses. "Get it over with. Starving me to death takes too long."
"Ves. Come on." Altare's eyes are suddenly wide and devastated as if Vesper's slapped him physically. "Please. I swear, on everything I've ever loved, that I will never hurt you again. Ever."
So what are you doing right now? Vesper wants to scream at him, but he can't.
"All I wanted was to push you a little," Altare continues. His voice is distant and detached, like Vesper is nothing more than an interesting trinket in a museum. "I didn't think it would happen this fast, but when I found you in the hallway, I couldn't waste any more time."
"What do you want?" Vesper chokes out. "I can't... I have to-"
"I don't want you dead. I want you to stop holding back." Altare finally lets go of his shoulders and stands up. The sudden loss of his warmth makes the air in the room seem even colder. "And to help you along, I've gotten you a present."
He lights the lamp sitting on the bedside table. It's not bright, but the glow sears Vesper's strained eyes anyway. When he blinks the spots out of his vision, he realizes with a start that someone else is in the room with them.
He's on his knees next to the bed, head bowed, hair draping his face. Vesper realizes he's naked and bound- arms secured behind his back at the wrists, calves striped with a half-dozen twists of rope.
There's something familiar about him. Vesper's hunger-dulled brain can't make the connection for a few moments. But when he finally sees it, his heart stops.
Blond hair. The barbed purple halo marking one side of his head. Vesper doesn't have to see his face to know one of the ghostly lines crosses his right eye.
"Yes," Altare whispers, far too close to his ear. "Dinner."
"Dez..." Somewhere far away, horror and fury surge in his chest, but they're too distant, too faint to give him any strength. "Altare, let him go!"
"Let him go? Why would I do that?" Altare combs his fingers through Vesper's hair. "He asked me to do this. Begged for it, actually. And it took so much time to get all those knots right."
"You don't know what you're doing," Vesper manages to say. "I can't. I'll kill him."
Altare rolls his eyes. "I'm not stupid, Ves. I know how starving vampires feed. We've already prepared for that. You can bleed either of us as much as you want, and we won't die. It's a simple enough potion to make."
They've been planning this. Both of them, the whole time. They've watched him suffer and done nothing. Vesper knows he should tell Altare off and storm out, but he doesn't have the energy to yell, let alone stand.
Desperate longing is starting to tear apart his thoughts. He hates it. He can't stop it. Willing, fresh prey, so close and so alive. It's been too long since he's let himself drink- not just harvest, but truly drink until he's sated, straight from living veins that surge loud with heartbeats. The words I can't feel bitterly wrong. The vampire side screams at him, too loudly to be ignored, so he defiantly stays silent.
"Fine. I can wear you down." He lets Vesper go with a disappointed sigh. "It's me, or death, Ves. You know that."
"I already told you. Kill me."
"So selfish." Altare turns away and grabs Dez by the ropes holding his arms. "Get up."
His voice is distinctly different- cold-blooded with a hint of sadistic eagerness. It lifts some of the paralyzing hypnosis that's been holding Vesper frozen. He shakes off the fog in his head as Dez obediently lets Altare pull him to his feet and drag him onto the bed. A few clear thoughts make their way in. Altare wants him to lose whatever shred of control he has left. He can't tell if it's for his own entertainment, or whatever bizarre fetish relationship he's been carrying on with Dez. Either way, they've taken several precautions to make sure he can't kill them, so they must know what could happen.
"Why?" Vesper finally forces out. "Altare, we were friends-"
"Why not?" Altare counters. "Okay, it was my idea. But can you really blame me for wanting what I can't have?"
What?
Something heavy is tossed across Vesper's chest like a sandbag. It's Dez, looking up at him with breathless anticipation. He's limp as a corpse, but Vesper can hear the blood rushing through his veins closest to the surface.
"You don't need me to spoonfeed you like this," Altare says disapprovingly as he perches on the bed next to them. "But I'll do whatever it takes." He grabs a fistful of blond hair and pulls his head back, exposing his pale throat and the artery pulsing on the side. If Vesper squints, he can see the shadows of teeth marks marring Dez's skin from his jaw to his shoulder. "It's so easy, Ves. All you have to do is bite."
Altare's right. It's that easy. His fangs are razor-sharp from years of disuse. He could slice the vein open without even hurting Dez that much, and a few sips of his blood would put him almost back to normal. At the very least, the queasy agony wracking his body would be gone.
But he won't be able to stop himself after a few sips. He'll feed until he's full, or his prey's dead. Even if Dez won't actually die this time, he can't risk falling back into his old ways. That's what makes him shake his head grimly, resolving to hold out until Altare either gets fed up and stakes him, or they leave him the hell alone.
The guild leader waits for a few more seconds, but Vesper's able to outlast him. He just sighs and walks away for a moment. "Fine. I think I can change your mind."
A folded square of white silk appears in his hand, dotted here and there with dark stains. Vesper watches against his will as Altare opens it up to reveal well-oiled metal glistening in the lamplight. His eye for weaponry is one of the few things left to him that isn't sluggish from hunger. There are at least ten knives in fabric sheaths: straight, smooth, single-edged blades with worn leather-wrapped handles. Altare picks out the smallest one and twirls it casually with a practiced hand.
Before Vesper can even think about stopping him, Altare drags the knife down Dez's chest, from collarbone to stomach. The cut is barely a scratch, but it's still deep enough to draw little beads of blood to the surface. Each one glitters the color of blackberry juice.
All of his senses funnel down into a single, murderous need. He grips the sheets until his fingers burn, trying to ground himself, but he's losing control. It feels so right, so natural to want to tear flesh and drink deep until the hollow ache in his stomach is sated and silent. It doesn't matter that this is Dezmond Magni, his friend, someone he's fought and lived alongside for months. The vampire side of him doesn't have friends.
"That's it," Altare murmurs. "Let go."
"No," Vesper gasps. He's surprised he can still speak, but opening his mouth almost lets him taste the blood scenting the air. "You're done playing me."
"Done?" Altare just smiles, like he really does care, but Vesper knows the truth. "We're not done until you give me what I want."
He drags his fingers along the cut, absently painting streaks of violet across Dez's body. The knife flickers across his lips next, opening a glistening line from his cheek to his jaw. Vesper tries to avert his eyes, but he can't look away when Altare leans down and kisses Dez hard, letting blood drip down his neck as he carves a row of deeper slits along Dez's ribs, staining the sheets with more violet splatters.
It's disgusting. It's disturbingly hot. It's everything he needs. Vesper's guts feel like they're tying themselves in knots around shards of broken glass. He has to get out. He won't betray himself- he won't hurt them to save his own skin. But he's dying, bit by bit, and the cure is right there, bleeding out more and more, tempting him.
"Come here Dezzy," Altare whispers, licking purple stains off his lips. "Let's put on a little show for him. He needs to see what he's missing."
Once again, Dez obeys without question. He arches into Altare's touch with a soft sigh, ignoring the slow crosshatch of shallow cuts Altare leaves on his lower abdomen, just above his dick. Each wound is surrounded by an angry lavender halo under the skin, and there's no way Dez should be okay with any of this, but he's hard and moaning desperately as the blade parts skin over and over again.
Vesper's heard all of the rumors about them. Everyone has by now. He'd always staunchly refused to believe it, but seeing it come to life in front of him is horrific beyond imagining. The vacant, inhuman smile on Altare's face as he licks the knife blade clean is going to give Vesper nightmares. He's masked it so well. He could have stood face to face with Vesper and pushed a stake through his heart, and he'd be wearing that exact same smile as Vesper's body crumbled to dust at his feet.
"Altare," Dez begs weakly. "Touch me-"
"Touch you where, sweetheart?" Altare swipes the knife across Dez's lips again, sending more blood weeping down the side of his neck. "Like this?"
He gently repositions Dez on the pillows so that he's not laying across Vesper anymore. Without the weight on his chest, it's easier to breathe. The smell of his blood is still thick in Vesper's senses, but not looking directly at him makes it a little easier to focus.
Altare straddles Dez's hips, grinding up against him as he puts the knife aside and pulls his hoodie off to bare his torso. Vesper doesn't scream at the sight, but it's a close call. Altare's chest, stomach, and arms are scarred with the same pattern he's been slicing into Dez: neat, unwavering grids of both old and new cuts. It's impossible to tell if they're self-inflicted, or ritual, or for his fetish, or whatever.
"Like what you see?" Altare's noticed him staring and takes his time undressing the rest of the way. "I can't get off without it anymore."
Vesper doesn't want to know. He never wanted this. He looks down, unable to meet Altare's eyes, and dimly realizes his chest and arms are covered in smears of Dez's blood. The only thing stopping him from drinking it up is the odd smell accompanying it- a haunting, chemically floral edge, like fake potpourri and mothballs.
"This isn't my first time doing this," Altare says sweetly. "I'd rather gut him in front of you than let you go."
"Stop," he says hoarsely. "Don't. Altare, I can't do this for you-"
"Yes, you can." Altare gasps sharply as Dez bucks his hips against him. They look like a dream, Altare's scarred body pressed against Dez, both of them rock-hard and dripping precome. Altare's green eyes seem to glow in the reflected light from the bedside lamp. Have they always been this bright? "You could have both of us right now, whatever you want. Don't do this to yourself, Ves, just give in..."
He wants to. He can't deny there's some distant twisted part of him thinking about how they'd look on their knees in front of him, sharing his cock in their mouths. He'd happily fuck Dez's pretty face until he's crying and coughing for air, but that's not what Altare wants from him.
"Dez can be a little needy," Altare says, like he's heard Vesper's thoughts, and he hopes he hasn't said it out loud. "He's an acquired taste... I would know. That's why I'm here too."
The knife flashes again, deadly bright. A miserable mix of emptiness and nausea roils Vesper's guts as Altare opens up his palm, letting dark red rivulets drip off his fingers as he reaches for his mouth.
"Taste me," Altare coaxes, and Vesper dimly realizes he no longer has a choice. He lets him tease his parted lips, smearing blood across his fangs, slicing his own fingertips willingly on the uneven points. A rich, savory bittersweetness, almost like spiced chocolate, seeps down Vesper's throat, warming him from the inside out.
It's both animal need and human desire that makes Vesper lick off the blood coating his mouth and nip at his hand for more. The vampire doesn't care that it's been forced on him like this. He wants more, craves it. A new kind of sickness begins to take hold.
"If you loved me, you'd let me go," Vesper says shakily, as a last resort.
"And if you loved me, you'd give me what I want. Do you really hate me so much that you'd die to spite me?" Vesper tries to turn away as Altare strokes his face with his bloodied hand. "I'll untie Dez if you don't want him like that. He's good for other things. Aren't you?"
Dez nods eagerly as Altare gets off of him and pulls off the ties on his wrists, tossing the rope aside. "Touch yourself if you want to," Altare tells him before turning his attention back to Vesper. "It's not about me and him tonight, Ves. I just want you to feel better. It doesn't matter if you hurt us." He settles next to Vesper until he's almost lying on top of him, resting his head on Vesper's shoulder. "I've always loved you so much. I just wish you'd seen it sooner."
He's so close. He's too close. He smells like desire and Dez's blood and something musky and sharp, maybe a cologne. He's warm and his heart is racing- Vesper can hear it all the way down in his chest, calling to him.
His self-control collapses. He's a monster and Altare knows it. Why bother hiding anymore? He pulls Altare close and gives him what he's been waiting for.
The feeling of fragile skin and blood vessels tearing under his fangs sends burning, vicious pleasure surging through him. He's forgotten how good it feels. Altare lets out a little shocked cry, half pain, half relief, and shudders in Vesper's grip, but he doesn't pull away.
"Yes," Altare moans. His arms find their way around Vesper's neck, holding him just as closely. "Drink up."
Vesper isn't listening. He gives in to the famished animal waiting in the back of his mind, letting it feed on the blood flowing down his throat, trickling fresh strength back into his limbs. There's no more space in his mind for doubt or fear or self-loathing. He'll hate himself tomorrow, but for now, he's living for it.
"Yes... harder..." Altare presses closer to him and shifts his hold on him a little, letting him deepen the bite wound. "Poor thing, you've been so hungry... Don't you realize how long I've been waiting for this? You'll never need anyone else if you're with me... I'll be whatever you want me to be."
"Altare," Dez whines distantly.
"Shut up and suck us off," Altare orders. "I'm busy."
Merciless hands are suddenly undoing Vesper's pants. The protests swimming close to the surface die away when he feels Altare and Dez taking turns stroking him until he's fully hard. He's already fought his own body for months. The overflow of rich, nourishing food has silenced whatever human restraint is left in him. He's so hungry- for touch, for companionship, to know he doesn't have to flee and suffer alone. It's almost enough to make him enjoy the feeling of Dez's tongue on him, licking from base to tip much too slowly.
"He's always so good." Altare's free hand strokes Vesper's chest, idly tracing the contours of his muscles. "You'll get used to his blood eventually. I know, it's shocking, but he likes this." He shivers again when Vesper pulls away from his neck, searching for a new place to bite and licking off the few drips that escape. "I want to see you rip him open next time. Make him scream. I could do it myself, but it's so much more elegant with you."
The worst part is how tempting that sounds. The usual horror and disgust are still there, but it's trapped in a distant corner of his mind, almost quiet enough to be mistaken for total silence. Dez lazily runs his lips up Altare's cock, then Vesper's, spitting blood on them to try and fit both into his mouth. The crosscuts on his lips are still oozing down his face, all the way to his chest. He looks perfect. Vesper can't hold back a moan as Dez takes him all the way down his throat and sucks hard, sending uncontrollable waves of heat through him. It's almost exactly what he's thought about. If he's as insatiable as Vesper's heard, he'd be so much fun to play with-
"Count yourself lucky," Altare is saying. "I don't like sharing my toys. But I think you need more than just me right now."
Toys. Is that what Vesper is to him? The surging, eager pleasure humming through his body falters just for a second.
"It can be just us next time, if you want," Altare continues. "I only care that you get what you need, Ves. I can give him whatever he wants later."
Just him and Altare. He wants that too. He's fed so well off of him already and he's never been this turned on in his life, feeling the hot, wet friction of his cock against Altare's as Dez continues to stroke and suck. It's sinfully good. Altare tilts his head to the other side, letting Vesper bite down and feed on a fresh vein, and the mind-numbing bliss of having them both service him is almost more than he can stand.
"Come for me," Altare whispers, breath hot against Vesper's lips. "I'll drink it out of his fucking mouth, I promise, just give me what I want, Ves..."
God, he has to see that. He needs it. The tense web of need strung through his nerves finally snaps hard. He nearly loses consciousness as he and Altare come all over Dez's waiting tongue. But he's no longer as starved as he was earlier, and the rush of his orgasm subsides quickly into a sweet, satisfying warmth.
"Come here." Altare grabs Dez's chin and pulls him closer, kissing him hard enough for Vesper to see his tongue plunge into his mouth. There's no pretense of love or caring, just a bestial need that almost matches Vesper's. He's exhausted, but the jolt that runs through his limp dick says he'd get hard again at the sight if he hadn't just come. Altare ends the kiss long enough to open his mouth and show Vesper the white liquid coating his tongue before swallowing hard and going back for more.
"You and I taste so nice together," Altare sighs, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "Next time you have to feed, I'll let you fuck me. Dez can eat it out of my ass if you want."
Feed. Next time. What has he done?
It feels like a curtain is parting in Vesper's mind. Brutal, cold clarity pierces him like a stake. He hasn't felt like this in years, maybe even decades. With dawning horror, he takes in the scene around him with new eyes. Dez and Altare are still lying on either side of him, both naked, wounded, bitten, and bruised, the sheets covered in drying blood, their hands slowly roaming over Vesper's chest and body as if he's nothing more than a pet to them. He's frozen despite the fresh energy and life coursing through him.
"That was perfect, Ves." Altare stretches like he's just woken up and plants a casual, sickening kiss on Vesper's cheek. "I'm sure you're feeling better by now. You even look better. See?"
"Fuck you," Vesper gasps. "Fuck you-"
"Language," Altare scolds. "You should be thanking me. It took so much time and planning."
He doesn't answer. Altare's not getting any thanks out of him. The heady rush of pleasure is fading, and all that's left is listless despair worming its way through his heart. He's broken every promise he's made to himself- years of caution and concealment forgotten in a few hours. Is he truly this weak? This desperate for someone else to want him, even if he knows he'll be used?
"You need to rest," Altare says tenderly, and Vesper can almost delude himself into thinking he really cares about his well-being. "It's going to take more than one feeding to make up for weeks of starvation, am I right?"
Starvation you inflicted on me, he says, but only in his mind. On the outside, he just nods wearily and lets Altare hold him close. Guilt, pain, and shame lift off of him, just a little, as he fades into a dreamless sleep that he wants to believe is death.