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Ollie has his face inches away from Felix’s neck, sharp fangs bared, salivating, when suddenly he stops.
Oliver takes a deep breath, smells around for a second, and furrows his eyebrows.
“You’re already bleeding.” He says.
Felix gives himself a once-over: No shirt, so as not to get it stained with blood, fully healed top surgery scars that run below his pecs, unbitten fingers since Ollie’s been carrying gum around to give him whenever he gets nervous, no cuts, no bruises, no nosebleeds.
“The fuck are you talking about?” Felix scoffs.
Oliver sniffs the air like a bloodhound (hehe, blood hound). Then, his eyes drift…down.
He’s staring directly at Felix’s crotch. His pupils dilate—they always do when he locates a meal.
“You’re bleeding, Felix.” Oliver frowns.
But that would mean—
No. No fucking way. Felix refuses.
“But I haven’t in months! The testosterone made it stop!” Felix slips off Oliver’s bed and runs to his bathroom. “Shit, shit, shit! No!”
He pulls his boxers off just as a drop of blood slips down his thigh. Felix shakes, eyes welling with tears.
He thought this was over. He was so sick of the blood and the cramps and the stupid emotions. It made him feel fucking disgusting, rounder and softer. Feminine.
“Damnit!”
He can smell the metallic tang.
Felix slams his fist into the bathroom sink.
When he looks up at the mirror, Ollie is watching him through the reflection. The mirrors are new enough that they don’t have silver, but Felix is tempted to bring him to Saltburn just to see if the rumors about no reflections are true or not. Nevertheless, here he is now, a contemplative look on his face as his eyes trail down Felix’s legs.
“Need help?”
“Of course I need help! I’m about to kill myself, mate!” Felix shouts. He doesn’t care that he’s naked as the day he was born in front of Oliver. It doesn’t matter anymore.
“I was talking about how I could make it better.” Ollie says.
“Get rid of my fucking uterus, that’s how.”
He shrugs. “Or I could just get rid of the blood. I was gonna drink yours anyway. The source doesn’t matter to me.”
Felix whips around, eyebrows raised. Oliver’s face is blank, giving away nothing as to how he really feels. But his stance is relaxed, pupils large with hunger but not disgust.
“So you want to literally eat me out?”
Oliver nods.
…well then.
“Fucking whatever. Fine. But keep your fangs away from my dick or I’ll kill you.”
“Noted.”
Felix feels more blood run down his leg. He snatches a towel from the rack and stomps over to the bed. He lays it down, then throws himself on top of it. Might as well get this over with. Oral sex for convenience’s sake, who knew? With Ollie, even? Insane. Felix isn't even sure that Oliver has done this before.
Oliver plays wingman at clubs, helping Felix bring women home who find it more convenient that he can’t cum in them with a strap-on, saving them the trouble. If Felix ever catches Ollie flirting with people, it’s to make them angry or to help Felix chat up their mates. He does get genuinely hot-and-heavy with men sometimes, but it never progresses because Felix drags him away to receive attention. It’s petty, yeah, but watching Ollie make bedroom eyes at a guy isn’t exactly Felix’s idea of a good time. He’s never seen Oliver go home with anyone , man or not.
“Get over here.” Felix says. Oliver slinks towards his bed like a big cat, eyes locked onto what he really wants. Felix pats his legs and Oliver climbs between them.
Considering this is the first time Felix is letting someone give him head after coming out, this really isn’t how he pictured it.
There’s fresh, bright red blood matting in his pubic hair. Trails streak down his inner thighs, and he feels the way it’s slipping down to his ass now that he’s sitting.
“You can say no, Felix.” Ollie says.
“I know.” But he wants to knock two birds out with one stone: Ollie getting fed and Felix getting less of a bloodbath. “Go on.”
Oliver nods. He lays down, arms wrapped around Felix’s thighs. His mouth opens, and out pops two sharp incisors on his upper row. Those teeth are built to pierce skin and muscles, to rip tendons off the bone. They puncture, then Oliver’s plush lips seal around the wound to drink. It’s happened to Felix a number of times—typically his neck, sometimes his wrist and one memorable instance, his thigh.
“You don’t need to bite, why are your fangs out?” Felix asks.
Oliver looks up at him through his lashes. “I can’t control my fangs very well when I’m excited.”
Oh. Okay then.
Ollie gives one last look—checking to see if Felix will back out. But he doesn’t. When Felix nods, Oliver leans in and laps up the blood on his legs. It tickles against the newly thick leg hair and makes Felix squirm. Oliver grabs his thigh and holds him in place.
Finally, Ollie looks him dead in the eye as he digs his tongue into Felix, licking in a large chunk of blood.
They moan at the same time—Felix from the feeling, Oliver from the taste.
“How’s that?” Felix asks in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Better than neck blood?”
Ollie sits up just slightly, red smeared along his chin and lips. He swipes his tongue to clean it up. “All of your blood tastes good, Felix. This is just a different good.”
That has to be one of the oddest compliments Felix has ever received; that fact doesn’t prevent him from blushing though. “Describe it to me?”
Oliver’s eyebrows furrow, clearly upset at not being able to dive right in. But he humors Felix. “The blood in your neck is…savory, almost? Like a medium rare steak. But the blood from here…” he takes a deep breath. “This is sweet, sort of. The only way I can describe it is that it gives me the same satisfaction as rich, dark chocolate. The texture is different, too.”
“Christ.” Is all Felix can say.
Ollie sighs, almost swoons. “Exactly.”
He reconnects with Felix’s hole. Oliver’s tongue is longer than the average human’s; an adaptation made for things like this, for scooping out blood from wounds…or other things.
The tip of his tongue traces around his hole. It dips in and out of the folds of Felix’s labia, sliding along the crease of his thighs. Oliver places his mouth over Felix’s entrance and sucks.
Zings of pleasure shoot down Felix’s spine. His hips jerk slightly right when Oliver laps at him again, pushing him deeper.
Ollie doesn’t target Felix’s cock; he was told not to, and he obeys. Regret claws at the back of Felix’s skull.
“Could I…ah, use my fingers?” Ollie asks.
“Yeah—yeah go ahead.” Felix heaves. He can’t say no to those big blue eyes and the way they look up through lashes.
Ollie sucks on his fingers to slick them up and presses a single digit in. Felix groans and shifts his hips down further, aching for more pressure. It’s typical for him to get excessively horny during his period. Wanting, needing something pressed to his cock or fucking into him; this is the first time he’s had another person there to scratch that itch.
Oliver slips a second finger in and crooks both, rubbing into Felix’s g-spot.
“Fuck! Fuck, okay…”
Ollie fucks into Felix, pushing blood out of his hole. His tongue traces the rim and between his fingers for a taste. At the onslaught of stimulation, Felix’s legs flex and squirm.
Oliver pulls out and instantly sticks the blood-covered digits in his mouth, down his throat.
“Waitwaitwait! Put them back—please—“
Ollie glances through his eyelashes like he knows Felix adores it. The faintest hint of a smile plays at the corners of his mouth. He obeys.
He pets inside Felix, pointer and middle. Blood draws out with his ministrations. Felix grips the pillow under his head. He breathes heavier, struggling to hold his hips still.
Felix closes his eyes and lays back. He focuses on the feeling of Oliver in him, the relief it brings. The occasional mouth noises from him licking up the blood. It’s rhythmic. Pure convenience, no attempt to get Felix off, no pleasure except the accidental kind.
Fuck.
Felix looks down at Ollie. His eyes are closed, tongue working around Felix with hunger.
Ollie finally looks up and pulls away.
“Felix?” He says. There’s almost a whine to his voice. “Did you know that orgasms can relieve cramps?”
“I did.” Felix says.
“If you wanted…I could keep going? Not hold back.” Ollie’s nervous expression and the blood around his lips makes Felix want to run his hands through his hair, wipe his mouth and pet his shoulders.
“Go ahead.”
Oliver’s eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.
Felix isn’t even cramping right now.
He flattens his tongue and drags it up Felix, from hole to cock. Felix moans; that just makes Ollie do it again. Flicking over his tip, gripping his thighs, dipping down to lap up spilled blood.
“Fuck, that’s nice.” Oliver nods in agreement.
“You should sit on my face.”
…………….?
Fucking huh?
“What?” Felix scoffs. “That would fucking smother you, Ollie.”
Oliver points to himself. “Heightened lung capacity. You can’t kill me.”
He did mention that a while ago. That he could take in more air and last longer between breaths. Helps with sucking, apparently, and concealing noise when hunting. Were Vampires made to be good at sex, or is that just a coincidence?
“I would still fucking crush you.” He furrows his eyebrows, gesturing to the large, thick body he possesses.
Ollie pouts. “What if I want to be crushed?”
“Fucking hell.” He doesn’t mean to say out loud, but he does. “ Why?”
“Firstly, gravity will be on my side to get your blood out. Secondly…” Ollie trails off, but the way he looks Felix up and down says it all.
Felix sighs.
“How do you want me?”
Ollie beams.
They end up in a position Felix has never been in before. Well…never been on the top of, anyway. Oliver is on his back, head against his pillow. Felix’s legs are on either side of him but he’s still hovering, nervous about killing his best mate with his cunt. Ollie’s face is right between Felix’s knees, body shaking in excitement.
A drop of blood falls out of Felix and lands on Oliver’s chin; his pupils dilate wider than should be physically possible as he retrieves it with his tongue.
“You’re fucking crazy, Ollie.” Felix says.
Oliver simply nods and points to his mouth.
Felix takes a deep breath and lowers himself, hovering slightly over Ollie’s mouth. Oliver grabs him by the waist and pulls him down hard, laying Felix’s cock right on his tongue.
The hard, wet, wonderful fucking muscle flexes against him. Felix groans and clutches the pillow on either side of Oliver’s head, settling into a proper sit when he watches the man’s eyes roll back in his head.
Ollie was right; like this, he can feel blood slipping out of him easier, being drunk far more powerfully than before—so much tongue. Spit, slick, and blood all combine into a cocktail of blasphemy on Ollie’s face; it might stain his chin.
“Here, let me help.” Felix says. He grabs Oliver’s hands where they rest at his waist and pulls them more towards his navel. He presses in and up. “Fuck, yeah, keep it like that.”
Felix has been…admittedly a slut at Oxford.
And with sluttery comes (ha, cums) knowledge.
Knowledge that he’s having Oliver press into his g-spot from the outside—and in the same movement, pushing the hood around his cock back, releasing it to the open for more stimulation. Like he’s done to so many girls before.
And it is fan-fucking-tastic.
Oliver licks at him with a new rush. He presses his hands just right against his stomach and Felix moans at the ceiling. He grinds down, suddenly uncaring as to how heavy he is. Ollie twitches between his thighs, hands shaking, hips thrusting into nothing, blinking back tears from lack of air.
Felix threads his fingers through Oliver’s hair; it gives him leverage to thrust into the man’s mouth.
Felix’s cock is nothing insane, just an inch or two. But it definitely freaks people out if they aren’t accustomed. Ollie doesn’t seem to care; in fact, he’s sucking like he fucking adores it. That's new. Felix pets through his hair and smiles down at him. There’s a far-away look in his big blue eyes—he shivers when he meets Felix’s gaze.
Felix can’t help but grind down. “You fucking love this, don’t you?”
Oliver nods and hums. It just adds to the stimulation.
“I’m gonna cum soon,” Felix inhales sharply. He almost swears he hears Ollie say ‘please’ between licks. “God, just like that.”
He can’t pull his gaze away from where their bodies connect. Oliver presses his thumbs into Felix’s lower stomach, shooting pleasure up his torso. Goosebumps erupt over his arms and legs.
“Use your fingers.” Felix instructs.
Ollie removes a hand from his waist, caressing down Felix’s thigh to grab his ass for a second before going between his legs. Felix sighs with relief as the two digits breach him, curling inward and making him moan.
His orgasms have changed since hormones. It used to be full-body, now it’s like a gunshot between his legs. And right now he’s fucking locked and loaded.
Ollie pressed his g-spot inside and out. A breath punches out of Felix’s chest. “Yeah, yeahyeahyeah—I’m gonna cum, fuck— “
Oliver closes his mouth around Felix’s cock and it’s over.
Felix’s vision blacks out, blood swimming in his ears like an airplane cockpit. His hand tightens in Ollie’s hair. Waves of heat start at his cock and flow to his legs and torso, his entire body seizing.
Ollie doesn’t stop licking. He drinks up the blood and slick with fervor; almost hyperventilating.
Felix squirms over the fingers. He opens his eyes and finds Oliver staring, stars shining in his pupils. He’s shivering like a chihuahua. Felix glances back.
There’s a wet spot over Oliver’s crotch.
“Oh shit.” Felix dismounts from Oliver’s face and fingers. He reaches under Ollie’s waistband and into his boxers. There’s cum soaked into his underwear. “Oh my god.”
Ollie hides his face in his shirt collar.
That…is profoundly flattering.
“You came from eating me out?”
Ollie peeks up. He nods.
Felix’s legs go weak. “Holy shit.” He can’t even describe what that does to him. The heat in his stomach.
He settles in Oliver’s lap and cups his face. Felix shoves his lips everywhere he can, kissing Oliver’s nose and cheeks and forehead.
He can’t stop muttering.
“Oh my fucking Christ, Ollie. You have no idea how hot that is—holy shit I can’t fucking believe you came from that—oh my God. I’d kiss you but I’m not about to taste my own blood.”
Oliver’s eyes widen. He slips out from under Felix and runs to the bathroom.
…Is he about to throw up?
Felix stands up to follow, almost collapsing with his jelly legs. “Mate, what are you—“
Oliver is brushing his teeth with a fury.
…okay. Felix can hear how hard he’s brushing. The froth of the toothpaste comes out red. He doesn’t gag when he scrubs his tongue. Oliver spits, rinses his mouth, and turns to Felix like a wolf backed into a corner.
Suddenly there’s a handful of boy in his grasp and minty lips on his.
Ollie’s wrapped around him; he clings to Felix with arms around his neck and legs locked at his back. Felix hoists him up by the ass and reciprocates a powerful kiss.
They wobble back enough to fall into Ollie’s bed, the smaller man still clinging on with an impressive amount of strength. Felix smiles into the kiss which gives Oliver an opening to run his tongue across their lips.
Felix cards his fingers through the other man’s hair.
“Thank you—“ Oliver whispers into his mouth. “Thank you, thank you, thank you—“
“You’re adorable.” Felix says, laughing.
“Can I do that again?”
“Whenever you want—“
“Then I’d never come up for air.”
Felix kisses him harder. “Lucky for you, I’ll be bleeding all week.”