[fic] #023 - When The Sun Goes Down 2/2
Title: When The Sun Goes Down
Prompt: #116- Nightlife by IAMX
Summary: Life is boring and so is Zitao. He lives on his own, moral cast aside for food in his stomach and warmth in his bed. The hurricane named Yifan comes and sweeps him into the life of vampire luxuries, introducing him to the immortal lifestyle. The most important thing? Zitao is Yifan’s mate.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Mentions of drug use, rimming, hinted lace kink, biting, blood play, gun play, voyeurism, denied orgasm, facial, fisting, age gap (lol, vampire age gap…)
Word count: 10,922
Yifan hands his keys to the valet the moment the gets out of the car, snatching Zitao’s hand the next second and pulling him along the long line of people in front of the door. Zitao follows, waving cheerfully at the screaming people queued up, lollipop hanging from his lips, bathing in the attention and cries of omg, they’re so fucking hot and bang me please. They get past the bouncers with ease, proceeding straight to the upper floors where private rooms are located. Yifan gritting his teeth all the way at the stares other clubbers are sending to Zitao. He growls low in his throat when one of them even have the guts to palm the leather covered ass.
Zitao fucking winked at the stranger just to piss him off more. Yifan fumes silently, sending images of a fire breathing dragon to Zitao by their mental connection. Zitao ignores him, fascinated by the flashy lights and gyrating people. Although he had gone to clubs before but they were never something like this, even the atmosphere felt more electrifying. They get into an elevator, Yifan sliding a VIP card before pressing the button to the highest floor. Yifan slams him onto the wall, catching the glossed lips in a bruising kiss, a thigh wedged between Zitao’s legs and pressing at his crotch. The younger pants, hands crinkling the starched white fabric in his hands.
“How ‘bout that blowjob now?” Yifan whispers right into Zito’s right ear, finger’s slipping up the loose tank top to pinch on dusky nipples. The younger moans at the image, allowing Yifan to push him down down down until he is facing Yifan’s crotch. The elevator’s LED screen showed a number 3 with an up arrow beside it, the button of level 10 and 12 flashing in blue light. If he’ll have to make some quick work to get that dong, then so be it.
“What would other people say when the elevator’s door opens and someone sees you on your knees, pretty lips spit slick as I fuck your mouth.” Yifan mutters, leaning against the cold metal wall, hand rail digging into his back and cock hanging out of his trousers’ zippers. Zitao licks his lips once and drives right in, pushing the flared crown past his lips, tonging at the silt, licking away precome. Yifan flicks his hips, forcing his length further down, relishing in the gagging sound Zitao emits, his throat constricting tightly. Tears wets Zitao eyes, threating to wash away the heavy eyeliner he has on but Yifan just grabbed a handful of carefully styled blond hair with one hand and flicks his hips again. The endearing touch on his cheeks is a stark contrast with how roughly Yifan uses his mouth as a source of pleasure, Zitao nearly sobbing as the LED screen showed the number 9.
The elevator dings when it reaches level 10 with Zitao’s bruised lips still wrapped around his mate’s arousal, Yifan still fucking into his mouth, tip lodging down his throat. The metal doors open slowly, the din of people conversing reaching their ears and Zitao holds his breath, the humiliation of getting caught made his own arousal throb in the tight leather pants. Yifan smirks, slowing down his thrusting, watching at the appendage that appears and disappears into Zitao’s mouth. The doors open fully to reveal no one standing by it, but the pair could clearly see that is anyone outside just happen to turn their heads or just merely look up, they could have a front seat view of the erotic scene.
Zitao chokes when the door held open for a full minute, his heart thudding against his chest and Yifan’s cock still pumping down his throat. Deep down somewhere, he really hoped that perhaps, someone will see their display. No one does, too absorbed in their own world of alcohol and pounding bass. Zitao couldn’t help but feels a little disappointed at that when the door closes.
“Fuck…” The grabbled curse slips past Yifan’s lips, Zitao’s throat constricting around his cock, “Maybe we should have public sex next time.”
Zitao hums at the appealing offer, Yifan’s cums, filling Zitao’s mouth with the thick substance. The younger swallows, just a drop spilling onto his glossy lips, a tiny hint of the thing he had done.
The elevator’s door opens again, level 12. Plush red carpet and heavy wooden table around, the atmosphere more like a high end casino rather than a clubbing area. Yifan zips back his trousers, a satisfied smile on his face, Zitao somewhat scowling under his breath about Yifan being not fair to him, his cock straining against the tight leather. Yifan kisses away the frown with a laugh just before a lady with a uniform vest informs him that Master Woo Min and the council had been waiting for his arrival.
Zitao’s frown resurfaces when Yifan ditches him at one of the poker table, choosing ‘important business’ own mate. Zitao will have his revenge, soon enough.
***
To be honest with himself, Zitao absolutely loved the way his body feels. Endless energy vibrates beneath his skin, making him feel pumped up like never before, clarity flushing through his body. His body fills out nicely, lean and strong, unlike the bag of skin and bones like before. He drinks up all the admiring glances he is getting lately, flaunting his renewed body as he strides in designer clothes, being the thing everyone wants.
It’s nice really.
Very nice.
Especially when it makes Kris Wu -the untouchable vampire prince- tries to let anyone and everyone know his claim. Endearing. Zitao bathes in the attention, the sole spotlight on him.
“You want to play with the big guns, Taozi?” Yifan hums, dragging the metal machine over Zitao’s sternum, down the silver of skin exposed between the unbuttoned collars of his shirt, relishing in the way the younger shiver in anticipation, looking vulnerable with his hands tied above his head with a belt.
It all begun with a simple game of poker. Zitao amusing himself with nonsensical bets to pass time while waiting for Yifan. Apparently sick fucks are lousy betters. So far, Zitao cashed himself quite a sum of money, not that he needed it, just a part of the games. And apparently, sick fucks get easily aroused with willing victims that are good looking too. They ought to believe they might actually have a chance to get laid. A bunch of dumbs. The tension was thick in the air when a man produced a gun from the lapels of his jacket and set a bet for Zitao to shoot himself in the shoulder.
From the maker-child bond tied between two vampires, Zitao could feel the prince tensing in his seat, the council droning about illegal blood farms and unguarded fledgling. He feels the elder warning him from the floor above, right where the meeting is held. In response, he deliberately loses, slapping down the cards on the table and leaning all the way across the long table to reach the pistol. He presses the mouth of the gun at the knob of his shoulder, then deciding against it and dragging the gun over his collarbones, up his neck, grazing the metal against his jaw to press the nozzle at his temple.
The man gulped, frozen in his place at the turn of events, sweat beading at his wide forehead. Other players were in different sets of expression, caught between scared and excited. Yifan sent another warning, urgency bolded and underlined in red, as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat again. Zitao smirks and pulls the trigger.
The gun barrel clicks, a solid sound resonating around the silence of the table.
The man blows his load, red in the face, his tobacco stained fingernails digging into the plush cushion.
Zitao’s body collapses to the side, red hair falling into his face.
Yifan jolts when the guy beside him leans in suddenly to whisper to him about the upcoming council election.
Someone around the poker table faints.
A soft giggle broke the thick tension.
Someone around the table throws up.
The giggle blossoms into a full blown laughter as Zitao get up from his twisted position, swiping a cup of bright coloured liquor down his throat, licking his lips seductively afterwards.
“That was fun.” He winked at the man, stuffing the gun into his belt. “Wanna go another round, big boy?”
“No more fun for you, love. Time to go.” Baekhyun intercepts the man, nodding at other occupants around the table as he trapped the younger vampire in a head lock. “Yeol, if you may.”
“Come on, kiddo.” Chanyeol comes right up from behind the shadows to carry his longs legs. The other people seemed to scatter like sand in the wind with just the presence of the vampire prince’s right-hand and left-hand man. Zitao whined but fell limp at the hold of his two elder kin.
Now back to the issue in hand.
Yifan hovers over him, his skin sizzling from contact with the metal nozzle of a very real pistol pressing at his stomach and also anticipation for the brunette next move. The lacquered top of the conference table cooling against his heated skin, his pants hung from the back of a chair, both legs spread wide, propped on Yifan’s shoulder. The material of Yifan’s iron slacks are rubbing the skin of his thighs raw.
“Yifan…please.” Zitao keens when Yifan rolls a sensitive nub between his thumb and forefingers, tugging until it’s swollen, the gun resting against the other right on top of his heart.
“Please what?” Yifan teases, scratching blunt nails down the exposed torso until he reaches Zitao’s cock, squeezing the dripping length with the gun pressed against Zitao’s thigh. The elder presses the nozzle harder against the skin, leaving a circular imprint while he digs out a piece of plastic from his trousers’ pockets. A sleek black cock ring which he fits snugly around Zitao’s engorged cock, the boy almost weeping from the constraint. “Please what, Taozi? I’m still waiting for your answer.”
“Please fuck me, Yifan.” He sobs, “Gege, please. Taozi will be good for you.”
Yifan smiles, pushing three fingers against the plush lips, “Make them good and wet.”
Zitao sucks, lathering the digits in thick saliva, making sure to coat them thoroughly, Yifan shivering at the suction and pressure that reminded him that the mouth was on his cock few hours prior. Reluctantly, he pulls away the fingers -slick and dripping with saliva- and presses one against Zitao’s ass, pumping it briefly before adding another, stretching the tight entrance open. Zitao writhes on the table, ankles locking behind Yifan’s neck. When a third finger is added, Yifan thumbs the slit of Zitao’s cock, gathering white precome to smear it around the angry red erection. Zitao arches of the table at the torture, his hips canting back for more, moans bouncing off the walls, his first dry orgasm flooding through his senses.
“I can’t…”He pants, eyes teary and his tongue sitting uncomfortably in his mouth, “take it off. Yifan, take it off!”
A pinky pokes at the edge, wriggling to fit into the already cramped area, Zitao nearly clamps his legs around Yifan’s neck in a death grip when the number of finger’s inside him is bumped up to 4. “Still okay? ” Yifan asks, his thumb rubbing around the stretched skin, the tight circle squeezing his fingers together. Zitao shakily nods, the lust coursing through him overriding the numbing burn.
Yifan moves his hand, stuffing all four fingers into Zitao slowly and them dragging them out, only leaving the tip of his middle finger resting against the abused hole. Rinse ,repeat. With each push and pull, Zitao falls more into the black hole, forgetting the uncomfortable surface of the conference table and the way his head is hanging of the edge. Finally loose enough, Yifan slips his thumb to join the rest of his fingers, wriggling them around, scratching at Zitao’s inner walls.
Everything was a mess, colour swirling in patterns drawn by kindergarteners, his limbs feeling like lead. The only thing holding him together by the seams was the press on five fingers inside him, rubbing just right against his prostate. Zitao bites his tongue when the pressure of the gun against his thigh was removed, only to be relocated at his asshole.
“I think you can take more, can’t you Taozi? Open up nice and wide like a slut you are?” Yifan teases, rubbing metal against his sore skin. “And I heard that you really really like to play with the big boys’ toys? Hmm…”
Zitao gurgles, unable to do much with his mind wired up for another orgasm. Yifan slowly eases the machine inside, cold metal making the younger flinch, his cock turning deep purple from the denied orgasm. “There, there, there. Nice and tight aren’t you?” Yifan suddenly turns serious, his eyes steely.
“Don’t…don’t” Zitao mumbles, his voice hoarse, “Yifan ge…don’t.”
“Don’t what? You gave me a great big scare just now you know?” Yifan presses deeper, “Playing with things this dangerous. I was in a goddamn meeting Zitao.”
“Sorry…sorry…sorry, Yifan…I just wanted to...aahh” High-pitched whines tore from Zitao’s throat when Yifan bends over -folding Zitao in half- and scrapes his teeth at the exposed collarbones.
“Sorry ain’t enough. It’s only been what, one day? You’re such a brat, Zitao, you know that yourself.” Yifan drags his tongue across the skin -salty and tangy-; he can’t wait to sink his teeth, to taste the blood. “You need to learn.”
“Sorry…”Zitao groans out, his hand balling up into fists when Yifan tears his throat with sharp fangs, blood messily spilling. “Sorry…sorry…ah”
Yifan licks, his face stained with red, eyes feral, danger glinting in them, his fingers rubbing constantly the soft interior of Zitao’s ass.
“Ge…ge…Too much…Ah…Stop…”Zitao cries, begs, his face streaked with tears, when Yifan fists his hand, nearly ripping Zitao into two. “Let me come…I’ll be good…I’ll be so good…”
Yifan stops, black returning to his iris. He leans back, pulling out the gun first then slowly removing his hand, one by one the finger’s slip out, leaving behind the overextended entrance fluttering around thin air. Zitao looked wreaked, just like how Yifan like it, walls torn down and pasted back.
There are few short raps on the closed door, gathering Yifan’s attention “Master Kris? The ceremony had begun. The other masters requests for your presence.”
“Oh…well…” Yifan shrugs, wiping his hand on the table cloth, “I’ll continue this later.”
Zitao whines, still spread eagle, half naked and painfully hard.
Yifan places a soft kiss on Zitao’s forehead, smirking, “Only if you are good, for the next 3 hours or so.”
That was the first time Zitao feels utterly and truly beaten, defeated by the man that had lived centuries, held down by the power he possess. Zitao loves every second of it, every second of belonging to Yifan, being owned by him. He fucking loves it in a twisted and messed up way.
Lying on the dirtied table, his neck still bleeding, his cock flared and painful, his ass used and stretched Zitao laughs. He laughs at the turn of fate. He laughs at the crazy things he had seen in the last 24 hours which are only the tip of a fucking colossal iceberg. But most importantly he laughs because he is a vampire. No it doesn’t make sense but it doesn’t matter. He has a whole lifetime to figure out what he was laughing at. And all that time, Yifan will be at his side.
As fuck up as he is, Zitao laughs.
PART 1 | PART 2
Prompt: #116- Nightlife by IAMX
Summary: Life is boring and so is Zitao. He lives on his own, moral cast aside for food in his stomach and warmth in his bed. The hurricane named Yifan comes and sweeps him into the life of vampire luxuries, introducing him to the immortal lifestyle. The most important thing? Zitao is Yifan’s mate.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Mentions of drug use, rimming, hinted lace kink, biting, blood play, gun play, voyeurism, denied orgasm, facial, fisting, age gap (lol, vampire age gap…)
Word count: 10,922
Yifan hands his keys to the valet the moment the gets out of the car, snatching Zitao’s hand the next second and pulling him along the long line of people in front of the door. Zitao follows, waving cheerfully at the screaming people queued up, lollipop hanging from his lips, bathing in the attention and cries of omg, they’re so fucking hot and bang me please. They get past the bouncers with ease, proceeding straight to the upper floors where private rooms are located. Yifan gritting his teeth all the way at the stares other clubbers are sending to Zitao. He growls low in his throat when one of them even have the guts to palm the leather covered ass.
Zitao fucking winked at the stranger just to piss him off more. Yifan fumes silently, sending images of a fire breathing dragon to Zitao by their mental connection. Zitao ignores him, fascinated by the flashy lights and gyrating people. Although he had gone to clubs before but they were never something like this, even the atmosphere felt more electrifying. They get into an elevator, Yifan sliding a VIP card before pressing the button to the highest floor. Yifan slams him onto the wall, catching the glossed lips in a bruising kiss, a thigh wedged between Zitao’s legs and pressing at his crotch. The younger pants, hands crinkling the starched white fabric in his hands.
“How ‘bout that blowjob now?” Yifan whispers right into Zito’s right ear, finger’s slipping up the loose tank top to pinch on dusky nipples. The younger moans at the image, allowing Yifan to push him down down down until he is facing Yifan’s crotch. The elevator’s LED screen showed a number 3 with an up arrow beside it, the button of level 10 and 12 flashing in blue light. If he’ll have to make some quick work to get that dong, then so be it.
“What would other people say when the elevator’s door opens and someone sees you on your knees, pretty lips spit slick as I fuck your mouth.” Yifan mutters, leaning against the cold metal wall, hand rail digging into his back and cock hanging out of his trousers’ zippers. Zitao licks his lips once and drives right in, pushing the flared crown past his lips, tonging at the silt, licking away precome. Yifan flicks his hips, forcing his length further down, relishing in the gagging sound Zitao emits, his throat constricting tightly. Tears wets Zitao eyes, threating to wash away the heavy eyeliner he has on but Yifan just grabbed a handful of carefully styled blond hair with one hand and flicks his hips again. The endearing touch on his cheeks is a stark contrast with how roughly Yifan uses his mouth as a source of pleasure, Zitao nearly sobbing as the LED screen showed the number 9.
The elevator dings when it reaches level 10 with Zitao’s bruised lips still wrapped around his mate’s arousal, Yifan still fucking into his mouth, tip lodging down his throat. The metal doors open slowly, the din of people conversing reaching their ears and Zitao holds his breath, the humiliation of getting caught made his own arousal throb in the tight leather pants. Yifan smirks, slowing down his thrusting, watching at the appendage that appears and disappears into Zitao’s mouth. The doors open fully to reveal no one standing by it, but the pair could clearly see that is anyone outside just happen to turn their heads or just merely look up, they could have a front seat view of the erotic scene.
Zitao chokes when the door held open for a full minute, his heart thudding against his chest and Yifan’s cock still pumping down his throat. Deep down somewhere, he really hoped that perhaps, someone will see their display. No one does, too absorbed in their own world of alcohol and pounding bass. Zitao couldn’t help but feels a little disappointed at that when the door closes.
“Fuck…” The grabbled curse slips past Yifan’s lips, Zitao’s throat constricting around his cock, “Maybe we should have public sex next time.”
Zitao hums at the appealing offer, Yifan’s cums, filling Zitao’s mouth with the thick substance. The younger swallows, just a drop spilling onto his glossy lips, a tiny hint of the thing he had done.
The elevator’s door opens again, level 12. Plush red carpet and heavy wooden table around, the atmosphere more like a high end casino rather than a clubbing area. Yifan zips back his trousers, a satisfied smile on his face, Zitao somewhat scowling under his breath about Yifan being not fair to him, his cock straining against the tight leather. Yifan kisses away the frown with a laugh just before a lady with a uniform vest informs him that Master Woo Min and the council had been waiting for his arrival.
Zitao’s frown resurfaces when Yifan ditches him at one of the poker table, choosing ‘important business’ own mate. Zitao will have his revenge, soon enough.
***
To be honest with himself, Zitao absolutely loved the way his body feels. Endless energy vibrates beneath his skin, making him feel pumped up like never before, clarity flushing through his body. His body fills out nicely, lean and strong, unlike the bag of skin and bones like before. He drinks up all the admiring glances he is getting lately, flaunting his renewed body as he strides in designer clothes, being the thing everyone wants.
It’s nice really.
Very nice.
Especially when it makes Kris Wu -the untouchable vampire prince- tries to let anyone and everyone know his claim. Endearing. Zitao bathes in the attention, the sole spotlight on him.
“You want to play with the big guns, Taozi?” Yifan hums, dragging the metal machine over Zitao’s sternum, down the silver of skin exposed between the unbuttoned collars of his shirt, relishing in the way the younger shiver in anticipation, looking vulnerable with his hands tied above his head with a belt.
It all begun with a simple game of poker. Zitao amusing himself with nonsensical bets to pass time while waiting for Yifan. Apparently sick fucks are lousy betters. So far, Zitao cashed himself quite a sum of money, not that he needed it, just a part of the games. And apparently, sick fucks get easily aroused with willing victims that are good looking too. They ought to believe they might actually have a chance to get laid. A bunch of dumbs. The tension was thick in the air when a man produced a gun from the lapels of his jacket and set a bet for Zitao to shoot himself in the shoulder.
From the maker-child bond tied between two vampires, Zitao could feel the prince tensing in his seat, the council droning about illegal blood farms and unguarded fledgling. He feels the elder warning him from the floor above, right where the meeting is held. In response, he deliberately loses, slapping down the cards on the table and leaning all the way across the long table to reach the pistol. He presses the mouth of the gun at the knob of his shoulder, then deciding against it and dragging the gun over his collarbones, up his neck, grazing the metal against his jaw to press the nozzle at his temple.
The man gulped, frozen in his place at the turn of events, sweat beading at his wide forehead. Other players were in different sets of expression, caught between scared and excited. Yifan sent another warning, urgency bolded and underlined in red, as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat again. Zitao smirks and pulls the trigger.
The gun barrel clicks, a solid sound resonating around the silence of the table.
The man blows his load, red in the face, his tobacco stained fingernails digging into the plush cushion.
Zitao’s body collapses to the side, red hair falling into his face.
Yifan jolts when the guy beside him leans in suddenly to whisper to him about the upcoming council election.
Someone around the poker table faints.
A soft giggle broke the thick tension.
Someone around the table throws up.
The giggle blossoms into a full blown laughter as Zitao get up from his twisted position, swiping a cup of bright coloured liquor down his throat, licking his lips seductively afterwards.
“That was fun.” He winked at the man, stuffing the gun into his belt. “Wanna go another round, big boy?”
“No more fun for you, love. Time to go.” Baekhyun intercepts the man, nodding at other occupants around the table as he trapped the younger vampire in a head lock. “Yeol, if you may.”
“Come on, kiddo.” Chanyeol comes right up from behind the shadows to carry his longs legs. The other people seemed to scatter like sand in the wind with just the presence of the vampire prince’s right-hand and left-hand man. Zitao whined but fell limp at the hold of his two elder kin.
Now back to the issue in hand.
Yifan hovers over him, his skin sizzling from contact with the metal nozzle of a very real pistol pressing at his stomach and also anticipation for the brunette next move. The lacquered top of the conference table cooling against his heated skin, his pants hung from the back of a chair, both legs spread wide, propped on Yifan’s shoulder. The material of Yifan’s iron slacks are rubbing the skin of his thighs raw.
“Yifan…please.” Zitao keens when Yifan rolls a sensitive nub between his thumb and forefingers, tugging until it’s swollen, the gun resting against the other right on top of his heart.
“Please what?” Yifan teases, scratching blunt nails down the exposed torso until he reaches Zitao’s cock, squeezing the dripping length with the gun pressed against Zitao’s thigh. The elder presses the nozzle harder against the skin, leaving a circular imprint while he digs out a piece of plastic from his trousers’ pockets. A sleek black cock ring which he fits snugly around Zitao’s engorged cock, the boy almost weeping from the constraint. “Please what, Taozi? I’m still waiting for your answer.”
“Please fuck me, Yifan.” He sobs, “Gege, please. Taozi will be good for you.”
Yifan smiles, pushing three fingers against the plush lips, “Make them good and wet.”
Zitao sucks, lathering the digits in thick saliva, making sure to coat them thoroughly, Yifan shivering at the suction and pressure that reminded him that the mouth was on his cock few hours prior. Reluctantly, he pulls away the fingers -slick and dripping with saliva- and presses one against Zitao’s ass, pumping it briefly before adding another, stretching the tight entrance open. Zitao writhes on the table, ankles locking behind Yifan’s neck. When a third finger is added, Yifan thumbs the slit of Zitao’s cock, gathering white precome to smear it around the angry red erection. Zitao arches of the table at the torture, his hips canting back for more, moans bouncing off the walls, his first dry orgasm flooding through his senses.
“I can’t…”He pants, eyes teary and his tongue sitting uncomfortably in his mouth, “take it off. Yifan, take it off!”
A pinky pokes at the edge, wriggling to fit into the already cramped area, Zitao nearly clamps his legs around Yifan’s neck in a death grip when the number of finger’s inside him is bumped up to 4. “Still okay? ” Yifan asks, his thumb rubbing around the stretched skin, the tight circle squeezing his fingers together. Zitao shakily nods, the lust coursing through him overriding the numbing burn.
Yifan moves his hand, stuffing all four fingers into Zitao slowly and them dragging them out, only leaving the tip of his middle finger resting against the abused hole. Rinse ,repeat. With each push and pull, Zitao falls more into the black hole, forgetting the uncomfortable surface of the conference table and the way his head is hanging of the edge. Finally loose enough, Yifan slips his thumb to join the rest of his fingers, wriggling them around, scratching at Zitao’s inner walls.
Everything was a mess, colour swirling in patterns drawn by kindergarteners, his limbs feeling like lead. The only thing holding him together by the seams was the press on five fingers inside him, rubbing just right against his prostate. Zitao bites his tongue when the pressure of the gun against his thigh was removed, only to be relocated at his asshole.
“I think you can take more, can’t you Taozi? Open up nice and wide like a slut you are?” Yifan teases, rubbing metal against his sore skin. “And I heard that you really really like to play with the big boys’ toys? Hmm…”
Zitao gurgles, unable to do much with his mind wired up for another orgasm. Yifan slowly eases the machine inside, cold metal making the younger flinch, his cock turning deep purple from the denied orgasm. “There, there, there. Nice and tight aren’t you?” Yifan suddenly turns serious, his eyes steely.
“Don’t…don’t” Zitao mumbles, his voice hoarse, “Yifan ge…don’t.”
“Don’t what? You gave me a great big scare just now you know?” Yifan presses deeper, “Playing with things this dangerous. I was in a goddamn meeting Zitao.”
“Sorry…sorry…sorry, Yifan…I just wanted to...aahh” High-pitched whines tore from Zitao’s throat when Yifan bends over -folding Zitao in half- and scrapes his teeth at the exposed collarbones.
“Sorry ain’t enough. It’s only been what, one day? You’re such a brat, Zitao, you know that yourself.” Yifan drags his tongue across the skin -salty and tangy-; he can’t wait to sink his teeth, to taste the blood. “You need to learn.”
“Sorry…”Zitao groans out, his hand balling up into fists when Yifan tears his throat with sharp fangs, blood messily spilling. “Sorry…sorry…ah”
Yifan licks, his face stained with red, eyes feral, danger glinting in them, his fingers rubbing constantly the soft interior of Zitao’s ass.
“Ge…ge…Too much…Ah…Stop…”Zitao cries, begs, his face streaked with tears, when Yifan fists his hand, nearly ripping Zitao into two. “Let me come…I’ll be good…I’ll be so good…”
Yifan stops, black returning to his iris. He leans back, pulling out the gun first then slowly removing his hand, one by one the finger’s slip out, leaving behind the overextended entrance fluttering around thin air. Zitao looked wreaked, just like how Yifan like it, walls torn down and pasted back.
There are few short raps on the closed door, gathering Yifan’s attention “Master Kris? The ceremony had begun. The other masters requests for your presence.”
“Oh…well…” Yifan shrugs, wiping his hand on the table cloth, “I’ll continue this later.”
Zitao whines, still spread eagle, half naked and painfully hard.
Yifan places a soft kiss on Zitao’s forehead, smirking, “Only if you are good, for the next 3 hours or so.”
That was the first time Zitao feels utterly and truly beaten, defeated by the man that had lived centuries, held down by the power he possess. Zitao loves every second of it, every second of belonging to Yifan, being owned by him. He fucking loves it in a twisted and messed up way.
Lying on the dirtied table, his neck still bleeding, his cock flared and painful, his ass used and stretched Zitao laughs. He laughs at the turn of fate. He laughs at the crazy things he had seen in the last 24 hours which are only the tip of a fucking colossal iceberg. But most importantly he laughs because he is a vampire. No it doesn’t make sense but it doesn’t matter. He has a whole lifetime to figure out what he was laughing at. And all that time, Yifan will be at his side.
As fuck up as he is, Zitao laughs.
PART 1 | PART 2