Chapter Text
It was only when he finally reached their apartment that he allowed himself to ascend from the haze of dissociation that he had, by sheer self-preservation, descended into.
It was not a graceful ascent.
It was much like those old-timey gags where a character was dragged offstage by a cane to the neck.
He let out a strangled sound, gripping at his hair, and dragging his hands down his face like he could somehow just start evaporating into mist.
He’d read vampires could do that. Surely now would be a great time to start.
“Master?”
Quackity looked up.
Wilbur’s head was poking around the corner into the kitchen, eyebrows raised.
Concern-Worry-Love-Obey-Question? Clicked across the thread between them, soft and curious.
The sweetness only made him feel worse.
He wanted to smack his head against the wall.
“Urghhhhhh,” Quackity managed, mouth muffled by the way his hands were still rubbing aggressively against his face like he could erase his Stupid with enough force.
Still, he sent a gentle vibration along the string. Fine-Annoyed-Displeased-Conflicted.
Wilbur’s eyes furrowed. “Do you…want to talk about it?” he asked haltingly.
He sounded like he’d really rather not, but was offering anyway because of Love or something.
Quackity, very maturely, hissed at him, before heading to the bedroom.
To the nest.
Where maybe, just maybe, he could bundle away with Wilbur forever and hide from his self-inflicted problems until they just turned to dust.
He was immortal now, he was pretty sure he could do that.
Of course, the reminder of that widened the gaping hole in the middle of his chest, a void that was probably labeled ‘Existential Dread’, so he promptly shut that thought away into the locked chest labeled ‘Don’t Think About It”.
He walked toward the bedroom, then paused.
He didn’t hear footsteps behind him.
He was heading to the bedroom.
That was usually a sign for Wilbur to follow him.
But he wasn’t.
Things were all wrong.
A spike of anxiety bolted through him.
He vibrated the thread hard. Follow-Want-Familiar-Now.
Immediately he heard something thunk against the countertop, and footsteps hurrying behind him.
The spike of anxiety soothed significantly, and he snuck into the dark nest and burrowed his way into the bedding, waiting for Wilbur.
He knew he was being immature.
Despite what his general stupid decisions may indicate, he wasn’t a total idiot.
He knew he was being unreasonable, that he wasn’t being fair – taking out his frustration on a (relatively) innocent party.
Guilt began to sneak in past the frustration.
Quietly, the tiniest of vibrations, a mere peep on the thread –
sorry-ashamed-embarrassed.
Immediately, he found arms wrapping tightly around him, held comfortably against a firm chest as his face tucked into his familiar’s neck.
Love-Love-Submission-Yours-Perfect-Happy, the other hummed back, sweet thrumming that he felt all the way to his toes, making them curl against the soft duvet beneath them.
He closed his eyes, and breathed in the scent of Wilbur, the gentle musk making his mouth water.
The smell of his human.
Gently, not enough to draw blood, he tilted up his chin and gave the other a little nip on the neck. Just a little tug, the tiniest little piece of skin between his teeth, that he quickly kitten-licked with his tongue, feeling unusually shy.
Wilbur shuddered hard against him, arms squeezing tighter.
He loved the way his scent went sweeter, a little deeper, and he nuzzled into his neck a little deeper.
He gave him another nip.
Another shudder.
A nuzzle back to the side of his head.
“Are you hungry?” Wilbur murmured quietly, as if knowing any louder would be Too Much.
(God, he loved him for it.)
Quackity grumbled against his neck, a pouting sort of discontent.
Naughty-TooSoon-Discontent, he grumbled, the next nip a lot less shy and a lot more scolding.
Wilbur sighed. “I didn’t mean me,” he said, but when Quackity sent him a very knowing thrum across the thread, he sent his own pout back down at him. “Okay fine, maybe I did, sue me – but I’ve got some of that ‘ethical’ blood you were going on about, if you’re hungry. Not a drop from me.”
Pouting-Discontent-Displeased was sent Quackity’s way, which the other did his best to soothe with a little kiss on the neck, right on top of his nipping.
Based on the way the other shivered and relaxed, it seemed it worked.
Acceptance-Hungry--Demand, the vampire offered, the last note tacked on belatedly for his familiar – the other really liked it when he was demanding, after all.
It still made him feel awkward, though, being demanding – it went against everything he was raised to do, it made him feel awkward and tense, waiting for the harsh refusal that never came.
It never came, because Wilbur liked it.
So, if it made the other happy, he was willing to try.
(He was more than a little flustered at how much he liked it.)
Sure enough, he saw the way the other flushed as he pulled away, goofy smile plastered onto his face as he slipped through the crack in the doorway, the tiniest of bounces to his step.
Sighing, Quackity leaned back, staring up at the ceiling, fiddling with the covers around his head.
He wasn’t really hungry, honestly. That wasn’t why he was nipping.
He just…felt like biting.
Not in a Feeding way, but just in a ‘I want proof that you’re here’ way. If he was between his teeth, then he couldn’t be anywhere else, after all.
But maybe some blood in his system would make him feel better. His mother had always been the type to shove food on him whenever he was feeling down, so maybe there was some wisdom in that.
Wilbur came back in a few long minutes, warm bottle in hand, and Quackity started salivating.
He lifted his hands up in grabby hands.
“Gimme,” he demanded, a touch of heat to his eyes, and Wilbur almost yanked forward, stumbling into the nest.
He caught him before he fell, tucking him in against him, and the taller’s legs splayed out from the nest slightly as he was positioned so his head was pressed against Quackity’s chest this time, holding him close like a teddy bear.
He plucked the bottle from his hands, and brought it to his nose, taking a sniff.
Blood. Warmed blood, too, by the feel.
A strange sort of sour smell to it – not like rot, but in the way that he imagined a wine would smell different from another. Dry, rather than sweet.
Whatever. He wasn’t a wine expert.
He went to pull open the straw tab on the bottle, to take a sip of his meal, but he paused at a sensation near his hip.
A sensation that had his body reacting out of sheer habit.
His lover’s touch.
Wilbur’s fingers danced at the seam of his leg to his hip, that delicate crease that wound itself down to where he ached.
“Would you…” the familiar paused, licking his lips with the slightest gasping of air – his eyes bright with desire. “Would you like me to…help you relax?”
His fingers tread lower, fingering at where he was beginning to wake, standing slowly to attention.
A few weeks ago, Quackity would have balked, blushing.
Would have turned away, made some sort of excuse, and handled the problem himself.
Today, Quackity sighed, leaning backwards, one hand behind his head as the other tilted the water bottle toward his face, sucking on the straw. “That sounds great, actually, thanks.”
He sipped on his drink, eye twitching slightly at the pang of sourness, but he brushed past it. They couldn’t all be Wilbur.
The human shivered, something in his eyes as he looked at him, reclined and relaxed in the nest, drink in hand, feeling for once that evening entirely at ease.
He looked…aroused.
Not unusual, by any means, but he wasn’t quite sure what had prompted that.
…he still wasn’t moving.
Quackity raised an eyebrow. “…You good?” he asked, skeptically.
“I – yeah.” Wilbur shook himself, as if out of some sort of trance, and leaned forward, Quackity’s legs framing him.
He tugged down his pants, just enough to expose his cock, which flopped upwards toward his stomach, already flushed and blood-pink.
He wrapped his fingers around it, grip soft but firm, and he stroked up and down, tightening near the tip and rubbing a thumb across the head before dipping back down, every inch massaged within his hand.
Quackity let out a soft sigh, relaxing back into the nest, legs spreading wider to let the familiar have more room to work.
Wilbur shuffled himself, laying fully between his thighs, propped up slightly on his forearms, and his hand angled his cock toward his lips, setting a light kiss on the tip.
Then he opened his mouth, slid his lips around the tip, and slid down.
Quackity let out a rough breath, a groan escaping with it. “Fuuuuuck,” he breathed, just taking in the sensation around his cock – of wet heat and tight, soft muscle holding him in place, minute flexes stroking against it.
He took another sip of his drink, the flavor of blood rich on his tongue, despite the sourness.
It wasn’t Wilbur’s, that was for sure, but it was hot and it was thick, and that’s all he needed right now.
“I could get used to this,” he muttered, rolling his hips up slightly, enjoying the way Wilbur’s throat spasmed a little around him. He felt like he was reclining on a beach, getting a massage, but better.
He needed that, after the evening he’d had.
The reminder of his total social flub made him groan, this time less from pleasure. “God, I feel like I had the longest night.”
A questioning hum pulled a soft curse out of him, Wilbur briefly pulling off with a soft pop, stroking his spit-slick cock with his hand. “Problems with your friends?” he asked, voice slightly hoarse, making him swallow, eyebrow raised curiously.
The way he unconsciously bit and licked at his own lips, instinctually looking to clean them, had Quackity following suit, wondering about how his cock tasted on Wil’s lips.
But then he realized Wil had said something, and when his brain caught up, he sighed tiredly, annoyed.
“Problem with fucking everything, man,” he lamented, gesturing vaguely at nothing with his bottle, setting it to the side of the nest. “I haven’t gotten out in a while, so I just – I didn’t think about how…loud and – and much everything would be. God, the lights were so bright, and the music was so obnoxious, you don’t even get it – I mean, who the hell decided that strobe lights were what a bowling alley needed? I’ve got a fucking headache like you wouldn’t believe.”
“I’ll find out, and we can kill them, master,” Wilbur said supportively, going back to sucking on his cock.
He pet his hand through his hair soothingly, a part of him knowing that Wil was probably not joking but feeling oddly touched anyway.
“Thanks babe,” he said, rubbing his leg against his side soothingly as he leaned back again. “I appreciate the sentiment.”
The human grumbled something against his cock – knowing him, probably something about ‘not being a sentiment’, but he just decided to relish in the vibrations of Wilbur being pouty with his cock in his mouth.
“Honestly, I’m just bitching,” he admitted, a bit reluctantly. “I had a good time, and it was good to see them again, they’re all great. I just…”
Another questioning hum, and when his hips twitched again, he could feel Wilbur’s smirk against the base of his cock.
He gave him a little scolding smack on the cheek, a punishment for being so smug.
Just a light one, of course, nothing major.
His dick was between his teeth, he wasn’t taking chances like that.
…
He blinked.
Oh. And he shouldn’t smack Wil in the face hard. That too.
…Why was that his second thought?
Something crawled in around his chest under his sternum, making him feel slightly queasy.
But then Wil gave a long, firm suck, and the feeling escaped with it, leaving him arching his head back.
“Fuck,” he hissed, curving his hand at the base of his neck and tugging him forward by the small strands.
He held him there for a long moment, enjoying the way his throat moved around the head of his cock, then he released him.
Wilbur, ever the good boy, didn’t complain, easing off with a gasp, and giving a hard suck to the head before leaning back again, giving him what seemed like a scolding look.
“No guilty thoughts while I’m sucking you off,” Wilbur scolded, but his tone was slightly muddled by the way he refused to move his lips from his cock, speaking against it like it was a microphone, giving it another little kiss, followed by a kitten lick. “I liked the smack.”
The vampire wasn’t sure if it was the red thread that had given him away somehow, or if he was just that easy for the human to read, but he felt a little grumpy at being able to be stopped mid-moral crisis.
“Whatever,” he muttered, deciding to not argue with a heavy exhale. Let Wilbur have his weird kinky shit. “I just acted like a dumbass and said something I shouldn’t have, is all.”
Another questioning hum, and this time he didn’t hesitate with his smack, this time a little harder than before.
“Brat,” he muttered, and blinked at the way Wilbur’s entire body shivered, a flush coming to his cheeks.
Worth exploring later.
“I just…” he grimaced, trying to figure out how to phrase this. This wasn’t going to go well. “They kind of…want to meet you?”
A pause.
Then Wilbur pulled off completely, looking at him with one eyebrow raised. “They know about me?” he asked dubiously, blinking. “I thought you wanted to keep this private.”
Quackity flushed with guilt, looking away. “I – yeah, I…may have mentioned you to Foolish. Aaaaand he kind of spilled the beans to everyone else.”
He wasn’t…ashamed of Wilbur, necessarily.
He just…
Well, he knew what Wilbur was like.
And how well other people could handle all of him.
Which was not at all.
The only reason he’d been fooled into thinking Wil was a rational, normal guy for so long was one, they were just having way too much sex and that would distract anyone from the red flags, and two, Wilbur actually respected him.
A rare honor, he’d discovered, that most people were not given.
As seen at a date gone wrong at a pizza place, caused by a server who was slightly rude to Quackity, and had resulted in Quackity having to do a lot of damage control, pushing his ability to mess with people’s heads to the limit.
He’d had a massive headache afterwards, and they still couldn’t go back to the pizzeria anytime soon.
He was pretty sure that waiter was still in the hospital.
He’d thought about sending flowers, maybe some money or something, but had decided that maybe he shouldn’t let Wil find out the guy had survived.
“I take it that you didn’t mean for that to happen,” the familiar deduced, thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock very distractingly. “Not that I blame you, of course. I’m not exactly ‘meet the family’ material.”
He gave him a rakish grin, trailing his tongue from the base of his cock to the tip in one long, slow stroke. “Besides,” he purred, pressing small kisses down the length, “I kind of like being your dirty little secret.”
The vampire rolled his eyes, scoffing at him, but he couldn’t help the way his lips tugged upwards. “Of course you do. Fuckin’ slut.”
He’d meant it fondly, lightly – every intention of taking it back if he’d overstepped, a slight tension in his shoulders.
Tension that vanished when Wilbur made a strangled noise, licking his lips. “God, I love it when you’re mean,” he muttered, pressing more kisses down blood-warm flesh.
I love it when I get to be mean, Quackity thought privately, a thought he’d keep to himself forever.
He shook it off.
“Back on topic – you don’t have to meet them if you don’t want to,” he offered, combing his fingers through his hair lightly. “I know you don’t generally like people – or at least not people you can’t mess with, and consider this my official demand to not fucking mess with them, thanks, but if you do, I promise it would be a one-time thing.”
Wilbur kept pressing kisses on his cock, humming thoughtfully.
Quackity itched at the lack of response.
“If you don’t want to, I can just let them know you’re not interested, and that’ll be that, and you don’t have to worry about all of that shit if you don’t want to,” he said. “But – “
“Do you want me to meet them?” he interrupted, looking up at him, eyes piercing.
He paused.
Did he?
On one hand, he had been doing a pretty good job of keeping his normal life and his vampire life separate. Two halves that he had wanted to keep firmly in their own lanes, forever parallel, never overlapping.
On the other hand…it was way more suspicious to keep Wilbur away from them, and knowing his friends, they were nosy.
It would only be a matter of time, anyway.
“Sure,” he said, shrugging, leaning over to pick up his bottle and take another deep sip of blood. “Better now on our terms than later.”
Wilbur smiled at him, and for a moment, it almost seemed proud.
Smug.
“As you wish, master,” he said, inclining his head, the closest to a bow he could manage at that angle. “Anything for you.”
Then he leaned down, took Quackity into his mouth, and the vampire lost himself to ecstasy.
Not a bad end to the night, in his opinion.