Work Text:
It is not as though he doesn't appreciate the boundaries he has set into concrete in front of Nandor. It's been good to get out of the house, to assert his independence—even if he is just living in the garden shed. But still, it's been good. He hasn't seen Nandor since they decided this, together.
But Nandor brought Nadja to him. And then Colin found his way over. Inexorably, Guillermo finds himself drawn back into the messy chaos of the household.
At this point, Guillermo just wants to sleep. He wants one singular day without the vampires fucking his shit up. So maybe that's why he's less than generous with his words and even less so with his actions when Laszlo and Nadja corner him as he's on his way to the shower to get ready for work and block his path.
"Sashay away!" He attempts pass through them both, but Nadja shouts him down. Loud enough to make his ears feel like they're bleeding, loud enough to disorient in such a way that he barely registers when Nandor is stood before him; next to Colin; tall, domineering, utterly vacant in his expression.
He's growling, staring at Laszlo and Nadja. He says something foreign that can only be Al Quolanudarian. For a moment, his eyes settle on Guillermo with all the weight of the sun, sparking with some kind of light, and he grins; wide, bared fangs out. Stands a bit taller, flexes his biceps to make them stand proud, lifts a self-indulgent eyebrow.
It's almost like he's flirting.
Guillermo has seen it all before, but never directed his way, so he puts it down to some stupid buffoonery that the vampires are up to and retreats to the bathroom. He doesn't see the way Nandor's face falls, the way his shoulders go from proud to hunched with embarrassment. All he sees as he hurries to the front door after his shower while everyone else is distracted and screaming in overlapping chatter is the front door cracked open and the camera people pushing through it all in a crush.
Nandor sets the house on fire.
Specifically, he sets Guillermo's old room on fire.
Specifically, he says that if he cannot have it, no one else can.
Guillermo hears none of this. All he can focus on is the odd way that Nandor peers up at him, hopeful, slightly cocky as he settles onto one knee from across the yard. He's still only wearing his pants, chest bare to the world. Guillermo's sitting on his bed, fingers clenched tightly onto the footlocker frame as Colin rambles at him about how this is both of their faults. He can't quite take his eyes off of Nandor.
"We?" Guillermo raises his brows, finally manages to tear his gaze away from Nandor—this old Nandor. One he hasn't had the privilege of meeting. One lost to time—and boggle at Colin. The beige man is shifting foot to foot, evidently antsy, worried about something. "No, there's no 'we'. This is all you."
Colin grimaces at him. "Who convinced me to sleep hypnotise him? You!"
Guillermo prepares his retort and his gaze travels back to Nandor like a lighthouse. Only, Nandor is wielding a lighter and a gasoline-soaked arrow. Guillermo shifts forward, reaching out. From behind him, Colin's voice comes clear.
"Hey, buddy, no, no, not safe!"
Nandor has lit the arrow and in the flickering flare of the flames, his eyes gleam with something particularly joyous. Guillermo hurries over to extinguish it. His hands are still outstretched, and as his action becomes clear to Nandor, Nandor rises to his feet, towering over him, mouth curling into a snarl as he rips the arrow away from Guillermo. Holds it above them both, a flickering torch in the dark night.
»"Not you, luscious one."« Nandor growls as Guillermo huffs and tries to reach for it again. There is a distinct gravelly tone to his voice that Guillermo has heard before—with Marwa, with Freddie—he's not going to think about it when it's directed so firmly at him.
"Give me the arrow, Nandor." Guillermo snaps, leaning over him. Nandor pushes back against him, instead of leaning away which is what Nandor (his ex-Master) would have done. He spins the arrow expertly and extinguishes it in the dirt by their feet. The sounds sizzles. His soot-stained chest is pressed up against Guillermo's face and Guillermo has frozen with something close to fear trickling through his nerves.
"What is going on?" Guillermo mutters as he pulls back. Nandor only looks at him with his heavy gaze, eyes half-lidded.
»"If you do not wish to see my prowess with a bow, how else can I prove myself worthy of your beauty?« Nandor says it so earnestly that Guillermo flushes even though he doesn't understand a single word he's saying.
"You gotta snap out of it!" Guillermo reaches up to—what? brush his hair out of his face? swipe the soot staining his cheek away? He doesn't know. Doesn't want to think about it.
Except he must because Nandor grabs both of his wrists with bruising force, his gaze intent, his face settled into placidity.
»"How else can I prove myself to you?"« Nandor mumbles as he brings Guillermo's knuckles up to his mouth and lavishes them with a brushed kiss. Guillermo makes a strangled sound, his cheeks burning, his eyes dry from his inability to blink.
Is this a dream?
He tries to wrench his hand away, to reassert that reality hasn't totally dissolved itself before his very eyes except Nandor drops to his knees before him and grabs at his waist, pressing his dirty forehead against Guillermo's dressing gown and groaning as his palms pass over layers of clothing.
»"You are so beautiful."« He mutters, his mouth full of cloth, his breath coming loud as he pushes himself into Guillermo's curves, fingers tracing reverentially over the promise of flushed skin and taut limbs, just out of reach.
"What are you doing?" Guillermo's voice comes as a squeak.
»"I must have you, my darling pomegranate. So sweet and juicy must be your cheeks, I'll pop your seeds between my teeth."« He looks up, wriggles his eyebrows with a lecherous grin and his expression makes sudden, icy sense to Guillermo because he glances behind him at Colin Robinson who's only looking on with an expression of confused amusement.
"Colin," Guillermo tries not to yelp when Nandor kneads at his ass. Even through his trousers, he can feel the ice of his fingers, the meaningful bruise of his touch. He will not be gentle but he will be attentive. That is what this touch promises. Guillermo's head swims with it. "Go inside."
Colin opens his mouth to protest, but Guillermo glares at him with the full force of his vampiric slayer instinct and Colin obeys. It gives just enough time for him to vacate the backyard before Nandor is standing, sweeping Guillermo off his feet with a triumphant shout, and carrying him towards the shed.
The bed.
Guillermo doesn't let himself touch Nandor, doesn't allow himself that weakness, until he's placed upon the bed as delicately as a fresh-plucked flower and Nandor turns to slam the doors closed. The brusqueness of his actions only serves to heighten the dizzying effect on Guillermo's pulse, his heart rabbiting in his chest as he reclines back and watches Nandor turn.
His gaze is molten. He looms like a shadow, his face sharp with hunger.
Hunger for him.
Guillermo swallows past the clamp on his throat. "Wait." He sputters when Nandor steps forward, his eyes latched onto his body, tracing it with immeasurable hunger. Nandor stops, his brow furrowing, his fingers twitching by his sides. He smells like gasoline and charred wood, smoky and dark. Guillermo takes heart that he's stopped. He raises a trembling hand, palm out.
"We need to be careful." He says slowly, carefully.
»"What is this? You wish for me to stand sentinel?"« Nandor tilts his head, his hair shivering with the motion. »"That I can do if you wish it so. After I take my prize for conquering this pitiful fortress."«
He steps forward and Guillermo tries not to flinch as he clambers onto the tiny footlocker, the wood groaning with their combined weight. Then he's covered, anchored down by the immovable pressure of Nandor's body, his gaze inexorably drawn to Nandor's face like a searchlight when the vampire brackets him with his body.
It's really happening. Guillermo's unblinking, his hands caught between his and Nandor's chest. He doesn't try to push. Nandor's brow is dark, his eyes glittering, the tip of one fang visible as he leans down. Closer. Closer. His face melts into one mass before Guillermo's eyes and in a moment of panic, he clenches his eyes shut.
Lips press against his, soft yet unyielding, demanding total dominance. Nandor tastes like salt and the copper of blood, his beard scratching against Guillermo's cheeks. Guillermo lets out a light-headed noise and Nandor grunts in satisfaction as his tongue probes Guillermo's mouth and he frees one hand to drift it with ragged intention over his robe. Guillermo thinks, in the private black of his mind, that this is really going to fuck up all those boundaries he'd worked so hard to build.
Fuck it.
The kiss deepens. Guillermo twines himself around Nandor, greedy in his blatant grasping, his breath coming in soft gasps when Nandor rips past his dressing gown, his cock a solid mass against Guillermo's hip, grinding down against him. He lets himself grind back. Nandor swallows down his stifled moan, glides his fingers beneath Guillermo's pyjama shirt.
The first touch is electric, the pads of Nandor's fingertips rough with all of the training he's been doing, his blunt nails dragging against Guillermo's skin. Nandor finally frees his lips with a self-satisfied smirk as they grind together, as he reaches up and rolls one of Guillermo's nipples between his thumb and forefinger.
Guillermo gasps, his entire body shaking as his nerves come alive, his eyes blowing wide then flicking shut just as fast. He cannot allow himself the sight. Cannot allow himself the indulgence. He whines as Nandor's mouth presses, cold, against his neck, teeth scraping against his sensitive flesh. He tilts his head to allow him access. There is pain, hot and striping; no rent open flesh, no bloody spurting, but the giddy promise of it makes Guillermo's toes curl and his hips twitch.
»"You are so beautiful when you squirm."« Nandor mutters against his flesh and Guillermo's eyes roll back. His voice is gravel and smoke, clipping on vowels and consonants that haven't seen a living tongue in some six hundred odd years.
Guillermo pants as Nandor toys with his nipples, his grinding growing more urgent, his veins bubbling with need as Nandor rises back up with all of the stalwart assurance of the sun and eclipses Guillermo view, swallowing him down, drowning him in his eyes, vibrant and ravenous. Guillermo chokes out a keen when Nandor's hand coasts down his body and grinds his palm with solemn, slow intention against his throbbing cock.
»"You want this, don't you?"« Nandor's eyes are knowing, glittering with internal light, his mouth cocked around a lazy, hazy smirk. Guillermo bucks into his hand, shaking against his mattress, sweating pricking along his limbs. His hands work against the multitude of sheets.
Nandor grinds down against his twitching hips, seems lost in the small, abortive noises Guillermo is making. There is no music here to drown out his shame, to lose himself in the humid heat, salt-skin-sweat. He wets his lips, his breath coming ragged as Nandor's fingers perfectly pluck out the outline of his cock against his pyjama pants. Dance in a meaningful squeeze over the over-hot length of his body. He's an oppressive presence; has been since Guillermo began to work for him, but like this Guillermo welcomes it, lets himself fall into it; fall for it.
Nandor grows impatient with the clothes they're wearing, grunting and growling as he rears back and paws at Guillermo's clothes, careless if they rip and, at this moment, Guillermo can't bring himself to care either. He helps himself to Nandor's pants, undoing the laces much more patiently than Nandor, who produces a knife from gods knows where and, with the glimmering point, begins to cut his clothes away.
"Hey!" Guillermo jolts back as the point kisses against his sternum, that ever vulnerable bone hiding beneath his softness. Heat pricks against his skin and a bead of blood wells up against his chest and drips a trail down his stomach. He'd care more for the tearing shred of his shirt except Nandor's eyes lock onto that speck and blaze.
"Wait," Guillermo protests faintly, his fingers curling around the edge of the bed as he leans back when Nandor presses down against him, an impassable weight, mouth open, tongue flicking out to run up his sternum, lapping at the blood. Guillermo shivers. "Please." He whispers into the air. It lingers there, wrapping around them like ribbon. Nandor works on his pants next, his knife so sharp that it glides through the fabric like butter.
Nandor rises up, his elbow tucked against the hollow of Guillermo's shoulder, his fingers threading through Guillermo's hair. His free hand strips Guillermo's tattered clothes away.
»"You could ask anything of me in this moment. If you wanted the sun, I would pull it down for you."« Nandor groans gutturally, pressing their chest together, capturing Guillermo's mouth in a messy kiss; tongues melding; teeth clicking; hot on cold.
Guillermo's hand tremble as he reaches up to rest them on Nandor's shoulders. He feels the flex of his muscles beneath his tentative fingers and his hesitance only drives Nandor further, pushes him onward and down, breaking off from Guillermo's mouth to strip away the rest of their clothing with hasty, hungry fingers, blunt nails raking down the honeyed swells of Guillermo's thighs, making the human gasp and shudder beneath his touch.
He does not bring himself to look down. To witness what awaits him. He has spent many nights wondering, fantasising. Lungs burning with the desperation of his promise. He did not look when Nandor invited him to at the Djinn's completed wish and in truth, he regrets deeply. His cheeks burn with the thought, a selfish craven part of him whispering that he will never get another opportunity.
He looks.
Nandor is an Adonis before him, tightly coiled muscle slipped below a loving layer of fat. A permanent stasis of his flesh-and-blood body, now icy, now hollow; needing blood to fill it, to warm it. Guillermo's eyes widen as he catches sight of Nandor's uncut cock nestled with a dark thatch of hair and his pulse pounds harder in his ears, flooding his senses as he thinks about where their intentions are leading. Where the string of fate has pulled him thus far and on to the endless possibilities in the dark of the night.
He has already given up vampirism. He doesn't think, in that tremulous moment, that he can give up this. He can't say that his mouth doesn't fill with spit at the thought, a mechanism that he has swallow down with a messy, audible gulp.
Nandor seems to sense his awe because he straightens from his hunch where his thumbs press into the divots of Guillermo's hips, gathering up his flesh, palming it reverentially. Hard enough to bruise, to draw whimpering mewls from Guillermo throat, unbidden. He smiles, sharp and knowing as he shifts to palm at his hard cock, stroking his length with indulgence writ across the angles of his face. His sooty thumb swipes over his weeping slit, lingers at the edge of his sensitive glans—drawing forth a pleasant resonant hiss.
His eyes bore in Guillermo.
He knows that Guillermo wants it. With every lurid stroke, he's promising it.
»"You like that?"« Nandor tips his chin at his hand wrapped around his girth with a meaningful twitch of his brows.
"Fuck." Guillermo breathes, his breath shaking in his chest.
»"I'll make sure you can't live without it once I'm done with you."« Nandor growls. Nandor wastes no time in pushing his knees up, taking a moment to finally look around the tiny shed, sweltering with Guillermo's body heat alone. He's looking for lubrication. When he finds none, he turns back to Guillermo, eyes narrowed.
»"Where is your oil, boy?"«
"Shit," Guillermo lets his head fall back, his cock twitching against his pelvis as his entire body flushes with heat. Nandor's fingers linger against his cock, heavy with intention."Hang on…"
He rolls off the bed to grab the bottle; hidden in the depths of a cabinet drawer, gilded in shadows. Nandor follows his moves closely, watching the sway of his buttocks, the flush on his back. He longs to dig his teeth into that supple flesh, rent open the veins of his pleasure and swim in them. But he can be patient. He can be withheld.
Not for very long though.
Guillermo yelps as Nandor slots behind him, cock slipping against his ass where he's bent over, his stomach pressed against his thighs as Nandor nails rake his spine and fist in his hair, soft crooning spilling from Nandor's mouth as he ruts against the cleft of Guillermo's ass.
It's a heated promise, one that makes Guillermo's cock throb insistently, his shame burning bright as a star within his gut as he bites back a choked moan when Nandor's tip kisses his back; a threat or a promise he's unsure, and he's given no time to ponder as Nandor lifts him with such fluid ease and deposits him roughly against the bed, the footlocker complaining at the impact.
He straddles Guillermo's ass, one thick palm wide in-between his shoulder blades, the other splitting his cheeks. Guillermo's entire body lights up like a kindred spark when he hands off the lube, Nandor cracking open the bottle with a fluid snap, drizzling the liquid like he's pouring it from the finest cruet.
He hums under his breath, rubbing it between his fingers.
»"It is no olive oil,"« He tells the tempting succubus below him. »"But it must do."«
He coats his own cock, and the slick noises carry with the promise of progression, of intimation, of an unstoppable momentum. Guillermo goes tense against the bed, his fingers claws in the sheets when he buries his face in the warm clutch of fabric, unable to confront his own desires in the low drift of ruddy shadows.
Nandor's finger slips home and he wails into the bed. Only a moment of that trembling keen and Nandor's other hand creeps into his hair and snaps tight, pulling his head up and back so that the sound carries. Nandor presses deep to the knuckle, his finger stroking and moving, stretching him with easy practice. Inserting one, then with brittle patience, another and, after a breathless moment, a third.
»"I want to hear you, my fiery heart."« Nandor growls in his ear and Guillermo can only gasp out broken pleas as he strikes right against his prostate, coaxing forth higher-pitched lilts as Guillermo pants and begs, tumbling words in English, in Spanish, his sense going vacant, his eyes glazing over with pure pleasure as his mouth hangs open and he pushes back against the insistent pressure within him. He is compressed between two unforgiving spaces, hard linens and soft flesh anchoring him, rutting with his cock against the rough friction of his sheets.
The incremental creep of loneliness once he'd moved out; found his own space, filled it with his own scent, his own things; had been unshakeable, even though he'd staked a claim on something that can finally be his. A reminiscent twinge in his core of all the night's he's done this alone and lonely. Belly down, ass up in the air, begging for release, begging for oblivion. Alone, lonely.
No longer.
»"That's it. Let me hear your sweet sounds. Pour them into my mouth and let me taste of your pleasure."« Nandor grits out between clenched teeth, shifting with a burst of speed and cupping the front of Guillermo's throat, his thumb pressed into his hammering pulse point, his fingers pressing tight with the promise of the void, his turquoise ring flashing in Guillermo's line of sight, the cold metal band even icier for the vampire wearing it.
Guillermo chokes on his air as Nandor drives him boneless, his cock spurting precome, his thighs shaking.
"Please!" He wails as Nandor lets him drop, his face bouncing off the sheets, his shoulders trembling. His hips buck and he feels a mortifying roll of his body in all the places he tries not to think about. He peeks out of the corner of his eye, watching for Nandor, an icy shock ripping through him. He looks starved, trembling beset on all of his limbs, as though Guillermo is the oasis at the end of a weary desert. "Please, just fuck me!"
Something in his tone must register because Nandor withdraws, an unholy gaping hole where his presence had burned just a moment prior, Guillermo writhes against his sheets, panting into the turgid air, his breath coming loud where all else there is silence. Sweat pours down his temples, soaks his limbs in a fever pitch that only Nandor's touch soothes; hands sweeping his arms, his thighs, digging into the places where skin meets bones and cooling him, laving him in attention.
It is with a modicum of conscious effort that Guillermo recognises the tip prodding at his fluttering rim. He's strung out, limbs spread, elbows creased, his breath hitched in anticipation. He feels Nandor's rumble vibrate through his bones, creeping out in his limbs as Nandor pushes deep, splits him open even with his careful preparation, heat rending him impaled.
He scrabbles against his sheets for purchase and finds none. Nandor's bearing down on him with all of the unstoppable force of a glacial collapse, patience personified as Guillermo chokes on air, his voice scraped through with pleading as he thinks he's going to split in half, going to shatter into pieces.
Every inch of him is burning in hellfire, the air punched from his lungs as Nandor withdraws with a guttural, indulgent moan and slams home. Every thrust sears deeper into Guillermo's soul, branding him with starlight; the explosive energy of a supernova imploding behind his ribs. Nandor's streaming words from a vacant mouth, Al Quolanudarian dripped from every syllable, foreign to his ears but just his tone alone is enough to make Guillermo's cheeks scorch.
"Please!" Guillermo sobs as Nandor adjusts his angle, hands gripping his hips with bruising force, fingers tight against his skin. Not so much holding him still as he is guiding his ecstatic writhing to meet the depth of his rolling hips. Every torrid slap makes Guillermo bounce, his hips slick up against him, their skin sticking, gilded with sweat.
"Fuck, Nandor, don't stop!" He's floating, off and away, yet irrevocably anchored in his body; tethered to this monstrous beast claiming him, marking him with bites and bruises, relentless in his punishment of Guillermo's body but it's not punishment, it's deliverance, it's the intimate press of a flower between pages, a heavy promise of light shining on a brow.
Nandor's hips are an insistent pressure, domineering, unalterable, incontrovertible. His cock drags on every pull and grows thicker, hotter, with every thrust. Guillermo is helpless to his momentum, his weight, his crushing force; pulling everything around him into nothingness. It is oblivion at the hands of the one he loves the most. It is freedom.
Guillermo pushes back against Nandor with every rhythmic slap of his hips. He fumbles behind him, reaching out for a hand or a fist, something, anything. He finds purchase and grips Nandor's forearm, tugging him down. The angle shifts and Nandor makes a wounded kind of noise as his weight crashes down against Guillermo's back and it's everything he needs, everything he wants.
He lets out a ragged, appreciative moan and Nandor growls in response, must feel him clutch tighter against him because his rhythm stutters out of pace as he buries his face in Guillermo's neck and sniffs, deep and dry; letting out an intoxicated sigh that borders on obscene. Guillermo turns his head to catch Nandor's lips, their faces bumping with the movement; it's awkward, a little uncomfortable, but it's perfect.
He moans into Nandor's crush, sweeps his tongue into his mouth and bites down on his lower lip. It pulls a startled groan from Nandor, deciding that he must like it, because his fervour increases tenfold, compressing them together, back to chest. Guillermo's thighs tremble beneath the power of Nandor's hips, a driving force sending him skyward as he falls into the hypnotic sway, the give and the take; lets Nandor's fingers crush into his hips, greedy fistfuls of his flesh treated as the most divine of delicacies.
A low murmuring underpins the slick-sweat slaps of flesh on flesh, a rising and falling crescendo, never passing far above a whisper; and Guillermo realises as he stutters out a jagged cry when Nandor's nails rake down his back once more; a hot stripe of pain, that it's Nandor; spilling words like a broken dam, speaking in a low fever-pitch, right in Guillermo's ear.
»"You're so fucking gorgeous, you know that?"« Nandor groans against the back of his neck, fangs dragging against Guillermo's delicate skin. »"Skin like a honeyed hive, ripe for the tasting."« A tongue sweeping over the length of his clavicle, cool skin flush against his. Stars burst behind Guillermo's eyelids as Nandor thrusts deep with a croon in Al Quolanudarian. Something tremulous in his tone as Guillermo's air is punched from his lungs, his limbs going pliant. »"Don't you want to stay like this forever?"«
Guillermo nods against his slick sheets, his mouth hanging open, whines ripped from his throat. "Please, oh fuck!" It's a squeak as Nandor hits against his prostate, driving incessantly against that bundle of nerves; building pressure filling him fit to burst and it's too much, it's not enough. It's everything all at once as his entire being tunnels on that point of his being where they connect.
Guillermo wails as he comes in ragged convulsions.
A sharp vibrating hiss against his shoulder blade is Guillermo's only warning as Nandor comes from his clenching, riotous ecstasy, heat sweeping through him in a blaze leaving only blank satiation. He convulses and feels it milk another short sputter from Nandor's cock, only adding onto the bone-deep warmth that fills Guillermo fit to bursting.
Nandor's breath is ragged, his mouth damp as he laves a string of wet kisses against Guillermo's spine. Guillermo chokes out a cry when Nandor slumps down on top of him, his breath crushed from his lungs. It is only a moment more while his vision goes blurred, fading at the edges, before he wriggles beneath Nandor and the vampire shifts off him, slumping on his side with an entirely too self-contented sigh.
»"Well, that was perfect,"« He slaps Guillermo's ass cheek with an overly-familiar palm, a cocky grin on his face. »"Wouldn't you say?"«
Guillermo only whimpers.