[FIC] Night Stalker
Title: Night Stalker
Pairing: Kris/Tao
Prompt: Mythology
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Wendigo has been trying to kill a particularly delicious-looking victim for some time now, but it hasn't worked out, so he decides to seduce him first.
Word Count: 1,506
He has been waiting for so long.
Night after night, until the air turned crisp and would all but freeze in his nostrils.
Practically prowling.
And every time, the man eluded his grasp at the last possible moment.
He is famished.
Unable to think about anything but the slender, leather-clad jeans, or the long, exquisite fingers that surely taste heavenly.
Tonight.
₰
Tao walks out of his two-story Victorian style mansion, the aura of a dark desire lingering a step behind, mingling with the faintest moldy odor and the man’s strong cologne. The black Bentley, model 1967, moves through the busy city with seamless silence. Out its window, Tao can see the last stars in the night’s sky being extinguished by a mass of clouds. On the sidewalks, in front of the brightly-lit shop windows, people pull their coats tighter around their bodies; parents tug on their children’s hands more insistently, and those who don’t have an umbrella hope they can find shelter before it starts pouring.
The club is a blur of moving bodies and neon blue. Tao pauses after entering, allowing his eyes to adjust to the flashes. He scans the crown on the dancefloor, then, as he advances inside, the tables. He spots him in a corner by the bar, arms hugging the back of the sofa as he converses with a guy next to him. Tao takes a seat at the bar, the closest one to his table.
Wu Yifan. Complete in a pair of tight dark jeans and a scarcely buttoned shirt, his hair slicked back and a small smile playing upon his small lips.
A daiquiri materializes in front of Tao and he smiles to the bartender who pushes a glass of whiskey towards the waitress. Tao watches as she brings it to Yifan’s table and gestures to the bar. Yifan’s eyes meet his instantaneously. In turn, Tao’s lips stretch to a dark, lazy smile, and Yifan responds with one of his own.
“Have we met before?” a deep voice prompts Tao to turn away from his cocktail. Yifan is in his personal space, eyes shiny.
“I don’t believe so.”
Yifan regards him, a wet smile on his lips. He climbs onto the vacant bar stool next to Tao, “I’m Kris.”
“Tao. You look delightfully handsome.”
Yifan laughs, revealing that the whiskey isn’t his first drink for the night, and nods.
“So do you.”
Tao doesn’t break eye contact, smiling enigmatically. He throws the dancefloor a glance.
“Wanna dance?”
So they do. They start slowly, getting accustomed to the grind of their bodies, then sync their movements to the music. Their gazes are often locked, until Tao leans in and their chests touch as he lets his nose graze the hot skin of Yifan’s neck. He finds himself almost intoxicated, filled with desire and overwhelming hunger because under the lust-stirring aroma of the taller man’s cologne is a more natural, musky scent.
Tao feels the beat of the music reverberate inside his head. He makes an effort to lessen the sensitivity of his hearing and focuses on the sensation of the long fingers slipping around his waist, up his torso. He feels a portion of his desire shift, split off and shoot for his crotch and he presses open-mouthed kisses to Yifan’s neck and they keep swaying and Yifan can’t seem to contain his groan, pressing himself to Tao, hands slithering to the man’s ass.
Without an interlude, their lips connect - Tao’s whole body shivers and shakes at the first taste and he knows, he’s aware of two distinct kinds of thrill that course through him. Their tongues slide against each other and Yifan’s hands grip the other man tightly until they part, gasping for breath.
When Tao slips into the warm, leather insides of his black Bentley after Yifan, the rumble of thunder in the sky is almost constant, the wind blowing people’s coats around their legs and tangling leaves into their hair. There are no parents with children, only rushing figures and an eerie, omnipresent rustling. Tao thinks that his plans for the night might be changing.
By the time the tires of the Bentley start crunching the gravel in front Tao’s mansion, fat drops are falling from the sky. Tao sees his driver’s dark eyes size Yifan up as the two men leave the car. He knows, by now, that his plans are different and the tenting in his trousers is there to prove it. When he reaches for the doorknob, he sees his fingers trembling. He takes a deep breath, attempting to steady the raging hunger.
Tao doesn’t let his guest linger on the splendor of his furniture or the massive reproduction of Goya’s “Saturn Devouring His Son” hanging over the fireplace in the bedroom. He plays with the elaborate light switch, leaving only the moon of lights above the bed to cast a dim glow over the pristine white sheets on the king sized bed.
₰ play this ₰
Within no time, Yifan’s shirt is off. Tao lets it splay over the mattress. He climbs up onto the bed and straddles Yifan’s legs and barely contains himself at the sight of the rippled expanse of the man’s chest. Yifan is watching him with a hooded gaze, lips parted and waiting still. He seems to have lost his agency and Tao wonders if it might be due to the way his own body radiates lust and hunger.
Yifan’s deep groans fill the room and play with Tao’s senses entirely too much for him to be able to concentrate on unbuttoning Yifan’s jeans while flicking his tongue around the man’s nipple. He swallows a growl and leaves marks down the pale skin. As soon as his hand finds its way into Yifan’s underwear, he comes back up and drinks his moans and feels fingers under his shirt and the buzz in his skin intensifies and manifests into a long, low groan.
They’re both slick with sweat and aching and desperate for it, it, the craving’s been so much more torturous and consuming for Tao and he can barely wait, so he tugs Yifan’s jeans off and mouths at the fabric of his boxer briefs and then uncovers his member and licks off the shiny bead of pre-cum and feels himself hot and
Suddenly it’s all of Yifan’s shaft that disappears into Tao’s mouth and it’s unbelievable, the ease with which the blond man does it, but it feels heavenly and as Tao’s head bobs on his length, Yifan arches off the bed and fists the expensive sheets. When Tao’s tongue focuses on the glans, Yifan’s deep moans become a chant of the other man’s name and the walls swallow it all as the rain pelts against the widows and white flashes split the sky and
And Tao leaves it all to his hand, flicks his fingers under the head and watches Yifan fall apart from up close, hovering over him and absorbing every sensory detail there is, from the rage of the storm and the beating of the branches against the house and the roaring thunder, to Yifan’s moans and the twists of his long body. Tao feels when it starts, so he starts too, he lets himself go, and his fingers are suddenly longer and gaunt and his body looks emaciated and inhumane.
It dawns on Yifan when a flash of lightning prompts his eyes to focus on Tao’s teeth - and Tao’s teeth are long and sharp and numerous, and this is wrong, and his face is angular and the skin is tightly drawn over his skull, patches of filthy, sparse hair hanging off his scalp, and his eyes are deep into their sockets and they are dark and abysmal and the branches of the enormous oaks outside beat on the house’s façade and both Yifan and Tao are burning up whole and this is not right, this is not, this must be something else, but Yifan can’t pull himself back and he spills all over Tao’s hand and he is trying to scream but it doesn’t come out right and Tao’s teeth are longer now and his mouth is bigger and his skin is the color of ash and this is not right, this is not right, this is---
Tao sinks his teeth into Yifan’s neck. Yifan’s hand on his shoulder is pathetically powerless and the screams turn into Tao’s favorite gurgling as his teeth tear out a fat chunk of flesh. Tao is almost drowning in the triumphant waves of delight crashing onto him because it tastes so good and it is so tender and a crimson spray bathes the wendigo’s face and stains the white sheets and Yifan’s eyes all but burst out of their sockets as his body convulses to the accompaniment of his choking.
The gurgling continues longer than usual, even as Tao swallows his bite, rivers of blood and little lumps of flesh running down his protruding chin. From the wall, Saturn’s large eyes stare at an ever-expanding pool of crimson with approval.
Pairing: Kris/Tao
Prompt: Mythology
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Wendigo has been trying to kill a particularly delicious-looking victim for some time now, but it hasn't worked out, so he decides to seduce him first.
Word Count: 1,506
He has been waiting for so long.
Night after night, until the air turned crisp and would all but freeze in his nostrils.
Practically prowling.
And every time, the man eluded his grasp at the last possible moment.
He is famished.
Unable to think about anything but the slender, leather-clad jeans, or the long, exquisite fingers that surely taste heavenly.
Tonight.
₰
Tao walks out of his two-story Victorian style mansion, the aura of a dark desire lingering a step behind, mingling with the faintest moldy odor and the man’s strong cologne. The black Bentley, model 1967, moves through the busy city with seamless silence. Out its window, Tao can see the last stars in the night’s sky being extinguished by a mass of clouds. On the sidewalks, in front of the brightly-lit shop windows, people pull their coats tighter around their bodies; parents tug on their children’s hands more insistently, and those who don’t have an umbrella hope they can find shelter before it starts pouring.
The club is a blur of moving bodies and neon blue. Tao pauses after entering, allowing his eyes to adjust to the flashes. He scans the crown on the dancefloor, then, as he advances inside, the tables. He spots him in a corner by the bar, arms hugging the back of the sofa as he converses with a guy next to him. Tao takes a seat at the bar, the closest one to his table.
Wu Yifan. Complete in a pair of tight dark jeans and a scarcely buttoned shirt, his hair slicked back and a small smile playing upon his small lips.
A daiquiri materializes in front of Tao and he smiles to the bartender who pushes a glass of whiskey towards the waitress. Tao watches as she brings it to Yifan’s table and gestures to the bar. Yifan’s eyes meet his instantaneously. In turn, Tao’s lips stretch to a dark, lazy smile, and Yifan responds with one of his own.
“Have we met before?” a deep voice prompts Tao to turn away from his cocktail. Yifan is in his personal space, eyes shiny.
“I don’t believe so.”
Yifan regards him, a wet smile on his lips. He climbs onto the vacant bar stool next to Tao, “I’m Kris.”
“Tao. You look delightfully handsome.”
Yifan laughs, revealing that the whiskey isn’t his first drink for the night, and nods.
“So do you.”
Tao doesn’t break eye contact, smiling enigmatically. He throws the dancefloor a glance.
“Wanna dance?”
So they do. They start slowly, getting accustomed to the grind of their bodies, then sync their movements to the music. Their gazes are often locked, until Tao leans in and their chests touch as he lets his nose graze the hot skin of Yifan’s neck. He finds himself almost intoxicated, filled with desire and overwhelming hunger because under the lust-stirring aroma of the taller man’s cologne is a more natural, musky scent.
Tao feels the beat of the music reverberate inside his head. He makes an effort to lessen the sensitivity of his hearing and focuses on the sensation of the long fingers slipping around his waist, up his torso. He feels a portion of his desire shift, split off and shoot for his crotch and he presses open-mouthed kisses to Yifan’s neck and they keep swaying and Yifan can’t seem to contain his groan, pressing himself to Tao, hands slithering to the man’s ass.
Without an interlude, their lips connect - Tao’s whole body shivers and shakes at the first taste and he knows, he’s aware of two distinct kinds of thrill that course through him. Their tongues slide against each other and Yifan’s hands grip the other man tightly until they part, gasping for breath.
When Tao slips into the warm, leather insides of his black Bentley after Yifan, the rumble of thunder in the sky is almost constant, the wind blowing people’s coats around their legs and tangling leaves into their hair. There are no parents with children, only rushing figures and an eerie, omnipresent rustling. Tao thinks that his plans for the night might be changing.
By the time the tires of the Bentley start crunching the gravel in front Tao’s mansion, fat drops are falling from the sky. Tao sees his driver’s dark eyes size Yifan up as the two men leave the car. He knows, by now, that his plans are different and the tenting in his trousers is there to prove it. When he reaches for the doorknob, he sees his fingers trembling. He takes a deep breath, attempting to steady the raging hunger.
Tao doesn’t let his guest linger on the splendor of his furniture or the massive reproduction of Goya’s “Saturn Devouring His Son” hanging over the fireplace in the bedroom. He plays with the elaborate light switch, leaving only the moon of lights above the bed to cast a dim glow over the pristine white sheets on the king sized bed.
₰ play this ₰
Within no time, Yifan’s shirt is off. Tao lets it splay over the mattress. He climbs up onto the bed and straddles Yifan’s legs and barely contains himself at the sight of the rippled expanse of the man’s chest. Yifan is watching him with a hooded gaze, lips parted and waiting still. He seems to have lost his agency and Tao wonders if it might be due to the way his own body radiates lust and hunger.
Yifan’s deep groans fill the room and play with Tao’s senses entirely too much for him to be able to concentrate on unbuttoning Yifan’s jeans while flicking his tongue around the man’s nipple. He swallows a growl and leaves marks down the pale skin. As soon as his hand finds its way into Yifan’s underwear, he comes back up and drinks his moans and feels fingers under his shirt and the buzz in his skin intensifies and manifests into a long, low groan.
They’re both slick with sweat and aching and desperate for it, it, the craving’s been so much more torturous and consuming for Tao and he can barely wait, so he tugs Yifan’s jeans off and mouths at the fabric of his boxer briefs and then uncovers his member and licks off the shiny bead of pre-cum and feels himself hot and
Suddenly it’s all of Yifan’s shaft that disappears into Tao’s mouth and it’s unbelievable, the ease with which the blond man does it, but it feels heavenly and as Tao’s head bobs on his length, Yifan arches off the bed and fists the expensive sheets. When Tao’s tongue focuses on the glans, Yifan’s deep moans become a chant of the other man’s name and the walls swallow it all as the rain pelts against the widows and white flashes split the sky and
And Tao leaves it all to his hand, flicks his fingers under the head and watches Yifan fall apart from up close, hovering over him and absorbing every sensory detail there is, from the rage of the storm and the beating of the branches against the house and the roaring thunder, to Yifan’s moans and the twists of his long body. Tao feels when it starts, so he starts too, he lets himself go, and his fingers are suddenly longer and gaunt and his body looks emaciated and inhumane.
It dawns on Yifan when a flash of lightning prompts his eyes to focus on Tao’s teeth - and Tao’s teeth are long and sharp and numerous, and this is wrong, and his face is angular and the skin is tightly drawn over his skull, patches of filthy, sparse hair hanging off his scalp, and his eyes are deep into their sockets and they are dark and abysmal and the branches of the enormous oaks outside beat on the house’s façade and both Yifan and Tao are burning up whole and this is not right, this is not, this must be something else, but Yifan can’t pull himself back and he spills all over Tao’s hand and he is trying to scream but it doesn’t come out right and Tao’s teeth are longer now and his mouth is bigger and his skin is the color of ash and this is not right, this is not right, this is---
Tao sinks his teeth into Yifan’s neck. Yifan’s hand on his shoulder is pathetically powerless and the screams turn into Tao’s favorite gurgling as his teeth tear out a fat chunk of flesh. Tao is almost drowning in the triumphant waves of delight crashing onto him because it tastes so good and it is so tender and a crimson spray bathes the wendigo’s face and stains the white sheets and Yifan’s eyes all but burst out of their sockets as his body convulses to the accompaniment of his choking.
The gurgling continues longer than usual, even as Tao swallows his bite, rivers of blood and little lumps of flesh running down his protruding chin. From the wall, Saturn’s large eyes stare at an ever-expanding pool of crimson with approval.