Pairing (or lack thereof): Kurt/Blaine, Kurt/Cody, brief Kurt/Adam and Kurt/Elliott
Summary: Kurt has always been fascinated with the vampires that lurk in the darkness of society. But he never imagined that he would meet one. Or become one.
Short Excerpt:
He’s left to lie there on the floor, wrists and ankles lashed together and his screams of agony muffled by the gag, as his heart slows and finally lets out one last thump and stops. The agony drains away, leaving only slight aches in his muscles, and Kurt opens his eyes to a new, brighter, sharper world. His wrists are still bound, but a hard tug on the suspenders tears them to shreds, and he makes equally short work of the knots on his ankles, tugging the gag out of his mouth and spitting out the taste of material. His body seems to thrum with new energy as he climbs to his feet, licking his dry lips slowly, feeling the bumps of his fangs beneath his gums.
Fangs that drop as the most delicious scent crashes over him - warmth and life and vitality, made sweet by alcohol, so tempting that his eyes drift shut and he takes a few steps without even realising it. But he pulls back, trying to remember beyond the haze of bloodlust and the disorientation of the transformation. He can’t hurt these people, these women, his friends. Both sleeping soundly, he can hear their gentle rhythmic breathing, Rachel and Santana. Pulling the curtain barring his room off aside, he can see them, Rachel letting out soft snuffling snores in her bed and Santana curled up under blankets on the blow-up mattress, hair thrown over her face and masking her expression.
Kurt’s eyelids flutter with pleasure as he breathes in, inhaling the scent of their blood, young and strong and heady, the alcohol only making it more appealing. It could be easy. He wouldn’t have to kill them, or change them. Just one bite, sink his fangs deep into their necks and drink, slowly and carefully, not wasting a drop. Stop before the damage became too much. He has that restraint - or so he believes. He’s not a monster, he’s still him underneath these new glowing eyes and fangs. A human who blindly hopes that his nature will be different, despite years of evidence to the contrary.
Title: walking the darkness
Word count: 8359
Pairing (or lack thereof): Kurt/Blaine, Kurt/Cody, brief Kurt/Adam and Kurt/Elliott
Summary: Kurt has always been fascinated with the vampires that lurk in the darkness of society. But he never imagined that he would meet one. Or become one.
Short Excerpt:
He’s left to lie there on the floor, wrists and ankles lashed together and his screams of agony muffled by the gag, as his heart slows and finally lets out one last thump and stops. The agony drains away, leaving only slight aches in his muscles, and Kurt opens his eyes to a new, brighter, sharper world. His wrists are still bound, but a hard tug on the suspenders tears them to shreds, and he makes equally short work of the knots on his ankles, tugging the gag out of his mouth and spitting out the taste of material. His body seems to thrum with new energy as he climbs to his feet, licking his dry lips slowly, feeling the bumps of his fangs beneath his gums.
Fangs that drop as the most delicious scent crashes over him - warmth and life and vitality, made sweet by alcohol, so tempting that his eyes drift shut and he takes a few steps without even realising it. But he pulls back, trying to remember beyond the haze of bloodlust and the disorientation of the transformation. He can’t hurt these people, these women, his friends. Both sleeping soundly, he can hear their gentle rhythmic breathing, Rachel and Santana. Pulling the curtain barring his room off aside, he can see them, Rachel letting out soft snuffling snores in her bed and Santana curled up under blankets on the blow-up mattress, hair thrown over her face and masking her expression.
Kurt’s eyelids flutter with pleasure as he breathes in, inhaling the scent of their blood, young and strong and heady, the alcohol only making it more appealing. It could be easy. He wouldn’t have to kill them, or change them. Just one bite, sink his fangs deep into their necks and drink, slowly and carefully, not wasting a drop. Stop before the damage became too much. He has that restraint - or so he believes. He’s not a monster, he’s still him underneath these new glowing eyes and fangs. A human who blindly hopes that his nature will be different, despite years of evidence to the contrary.
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