This story and tens of thousands are brought to you in part by the volunteers and kind donations that Nifty needs to run. Please consider a donation of any amount to keep this beloved place going at https://donate.nifty.org
Thank you all for reading. Please enjoy part 4.
Taylor R. Bullet
2006, November
Santa Clara University
"So you're a vampire," he said before taking a bite of his apple. I glared at him with wide eyes before looking around the café quickly.
"You can't just say that out loud!" I whispered angrily. Micah just rolled his eyes at me as he chewed. I pursed my lips, frowning, watching as he winked at me when he swallowed.
"Does it look like anyone even flinched?" he asked, knowingly. I closed my eyes and sighed.
"It's eight in the morning," he continued. "No one here has even finished their first cup of coffee yet. No one is awake enough to, one, notice, or two, care."
He took another bite of his apple, talking while chewing.
"Bu-uh fo' pheal, wha' it `ike?" he asked, but I looked at him dumbly. He looked sheepish about it for maybe a second or two before swallowing and trying again.
"But for real, what's it like?" I looked around the room again, and Micah was right; the kids in here all looked half dead and were practically falling into their oatmeal or whatever. When I looked back at Micah, he was the exact opposite; completely aware, soft smile, and a happy glint in his eyes that was something specific to him. I could feel my resolve fading... lying to myself pretending like it had ever existed in the first place. I leaned a little bit closer to him, folding over the table some.
"You've got to be more specific than that, Micah," I told him. His eyes and smile widened in excitement.
"So, like, I guess... fuck!" he cursed quietly, looking away sheepishly while he gathered his thoughts. "I wasn't sure if you'd actually want to talk about it."
Smirking slightly, I reached out my hand and placed it on top of his. He looked up at me with a curious, but hopeful gaze.
"I'll tell you anything you want," I said softly, smiling. "But could we, I don't know, go somewhere a bit more private?" I asked, raising a brow some, my head sinking down into my shoulders. He nodded, and I watched him finish his breakfast, just chatting about classes starting back up the coming Monday.
We walked back to our dorm building and to Micah's room. The happy-go-lucky attitude that he had all morning seemed to quickly diminish as we walked inside. When we got to his room, I walked in first and sat up on his bed. He closed the door, and I heard his heartbeat pick up as he moved toward his desk to sit.
"Why are you nervous?" I asked, almost chuckling at him. He bit his bottom lip and looked down.
"I don't know what to even ask you anymore," he said sheepishly before looking back up at me.
"I'm sure those Twilight books have some great assumptions," I suggested, scooting back against the wall and crossing my arms. He shrugged and nodded, a small smile reappearing on his lips.
"Yeah, I guess I could start there," he said shyly. He took a deep breath and sat up straight, looking right at me. While he looked confident, his heart was beating on rapid-fire.
"Babe?" I asked. He swallowed hard.
"Yeah?" I could hear the slight tremor in his voice. I pushed off the bed and moved in front of him, his eyes watching every move I made. I placed my hand under his chin, tilted his head up, and kissed him. He stiffened for a split second before his shoulders slumped down and he let out a long, deep breath. The kiss lasted for a few seconds after that, and when we broke apart, I looked down at him with a hopeful, concerned look on my face.
"You okay?" I asked him. He smirked, looking up at me.
"I am now. I, I needed that." He admitted, the smirk turning into a smile. I moved back to the bed, leaning back against it now.
"So, what's your first question?" I asked him.
"Have you always looked like this?"
"No, actually. My default is early twenties," I answered, but his eyes narrowed.
"Wait, default? What do you mean? I though vampires didn't age!"
"Well, we don't, unless we feed on a very filtered diet. I was turned in my early twenties, oh gosh, I'd say twenty-two? It's hard to remember exactly." I told him. He looked at me dumbly.
"What?"
I nodded and rang my tongue across my teeth. "So, before coming here, I looked somewhere in my late 40s, or early 50s. I had been living in my house for a while and needed to age with the population. So, I would drink exclusively from males of that age range, and after about a week of excessive, and I mean excessive, drinking, the shift slowly comes through. It's easy to stay as your default, and it's easy to stay as something for a long period of time. It's not so simple to just transition whenever one pleases." His mouth was hanging open by the end of my explanation, and he looked like he had questions, so I waited for him to speak.
"So..." his eyes looked away for a moment before coming back to mine with a targeted curiosity. "You can blend in almost everywhere then? All it takes is a week and then, bam, new person? How does that," he shook his head. "How does that even work?" I shrugged at him and smiled some.
"Honestly, there hasn't really been a great vampire scientist that studied our anatomy, so your question is as good as mine, however, it's not perfect," I sighed. "It takes a week, yes, and then," I made finger quote, "Bam, but it's not a nice process. I have to drink from at least four people a day, for a week-ish straight. It's different for everyone as far as I'm aware. It's excruciating. It's exhausting, and I'm not quite myself because I've been on an overdose of human blood. Then I'm exhausted for a few days because the shift is a lot for a body to do, and then I have a strict feeding regimen for the age that I want to look, or else I will shift back to the age that I was turned at. And back to the shifts, it's not just I look like I could be 45 and I want to look 50. No, the jumps are large. I could do 20, 30, 40, and so on, but you can't just bop around to whatever age you want."
Once I was done, Micah was looking at me with rapt attention. He laced his fingers together and rolled his fingers. His face was scrunched together like he was thinking.
"Alright, that's interesting... I think. The process sounds terrible, but I guess if it give-" Micah didn't choke on his words, but the pause was abrupt as realization took over his features. His eyes met mine in a steady gaze. "What exactly did you have to do to look like you do now? Terrorize some college campus?" His question held no malice to it, but there was a heavy sense of concern mixed in with his curiosity and seriousness. I wiggled my one hand in a so-so motion and grimaced.
"Before you even think about it, I didn't kill anyone, but yes," I answered simply. "Before coming here, I left California for a month and stopped down in Texas at A and M University and... harvested what I needed. Laid low for a few days after in some seedy motel outside the city, and then came back here."
He sat back in his chair seeming appeased, but also somewhat astonished at what he just learned. "And not feeding while we were at mom's?"
"Nearly broke it. I would have had to feed if we stayed any longer. That really tested unknown waters and I didn't think any of it through."
He ran his fingers through his hair.
"I'll probably ask more about it later, but for now, I think that's all I can handle with that topic," he said and then looked up at the ceiling, pondering.
"Good for another question?" I asked. He nodded, still looking at the ceiling.
"Is there a head council for vampires?" he asked a few moments later. I shook my head.
"Not that I know of, and I've been around for a while," I started. "But there are old vampires, ones that were born around or before zero or one A.D., but there's very few of them, they don't like being around others, and they all live across the ocean." I looked forward for a moment, thinking. "The oldest in the states, that I personally know, is a man that goes by Corbett St. Claire. He's lived in Michigan since it was a state, and was in New York before that, and France before that. But again, he likes his privacy. He's also..." I debated how much I wanted to tell him about Corbett. "The only other old vampire I met in my life, he's somewhere around 500 years old... the general consensus is that Corbett is feared." Micah raised a brow. "He's very powerful."
"Define powerful?" he asked. I pressed my lips together. I crossed my arms over my chest and gazed at the floor, a flood of memories coming to my mind.
"He never gave me a full answer, and neither did Corbett, but from knowing him, he was born to a single mother during the 1300s in the French Empire. She was a witch. When the French began prosecuting those who were known to use Archana, he watched his mother being carted off when he was young. At some point years later, his father came back. He apparently was a vampire, and he turned Corbett. Corbett, not only having continued his mother's practice, and then being a vampire and the abilities that come with that, he-" I gulped hard, stopping the word vomit from pouring out of my mouth. "He's not a bad man, but he got revenge for his mother. He's kind once you know him, but, he- yeah. He's very powerful, and even when we were friends, I slightly feared him."
"Jesus..." he said, his voice mostly air. "So did he, like, kill-"
"Yes," I cut him off, deadpan. His eyes went wide for a moment before returning to normal. "A lot of them. He doesn't anymore. He has a life now, built a town, at least the last I heard from him. That was over 100 years ago, but back then he didn't let things get in his way."
"That's just... wow, I guess. I think? I'm not really sure how I feel about that, or him, but- you know what I mean," Micah said, stumbling, but then he paused and cocked his head to the side. "So, you all just kind of, I mean for the most part... I don't know, exist?"
"Sort of? Sometime there will be a group of vampires that will settle around each other, not to the extent of werewolves that-"
"There's werewolves too?" he burst, his eyes going wide and circular, then immediately reeled himself in.
"Sorry," he said quietly, blushing. I laughed silently at him, taking a few seconds to compose myself. I was honestly glad we were off the subject of Corbett and vampires for the time being.
"Yeah, and actually, the oldest bloodline lives on the West Coast, up in Oregon. I've only interacted with a few of them once back in the late 1800's. They're nice, but interactions between vampires and werewolves are awkward at best."
"So... that part of the book is true?" he asked. I sighed and shrugged.
"Not at much as you would think. It's true that vampires and werewolves used to be violent towards each other, but as technology and real civilization came around, those kinds of actions stopped. Feral wolves and vamps are a different story, but that's another thing entirely."
"Then what do you mean?" he asked, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.
"So, like I said, vampires don't have a governing body. Werewolves don't either besides their packs. The pack north of here has a lot of pull because of their bloodline, but that only comes into play if there was a threat involving them or a friendly pack. Because of this, we don't know a whole lot about the others, and vampires are usually estranged creatures, so, I guess..." I trailed off for a second, thinking. "We... it's just that. We don't know a lot about the other species so things can get weird. There's also a lot more of them than there are of us." He seemed to absorb the information for a second, a thoughtful look coming across his face.
"That's just odd, I guess, or something. Not quite sure how to take that. It just seems like a weird gray area," he said. I nodded in agreement.
"You're not wrong, it is weird. I also have no intention of just waltzing into pack territories ever unless I'm with a human because I don't want to risk anything, even though probability is on my side."
"Are vampires' eyes only red?" he asked, and then stood from his chair. He continued as he moved to lay down on his bed. "What about the ones that don't drink human blood, or is that even a thing?"
I moved back up onto the bed and he started to kick his shoes off. I did the same. "Well, blood is still blood. It doesn't matter the source. Human's definitely taste the best to me." I pushed his one leg to the side and laid chest-down on him, turning my head to lay on his stomach. His hands came to my back and rested there. "Color will range from a red to black. The darker the eye, the more the vampire needs to feed." His body stilled under me and I tilted my head back to look at him. There was a small amount of concern in his eyes.
"Do you need to feed again soon? Especially after last week... was last night enough, or do you need to, um, you know?" he said, tip-toeing around the topic of me feeding. I could tell it worried him though, so I chuckled and relaxed my head back down on him, closing my eyes.
"Don't worry. I got what I needed. I'll hunt again in a day or so, but for right now, I'm fine," I said, nuzzling my head into him a little as his body relaxed.
"I'm more than fine right now," I sighed happily. His hands started to rub my back slowly up and down.
"I know that we woke up like, a little over an hour ago, but I could nap," Micah said softly. I closed my eyes.
"More questions later?" I asked him.
"Mmhmm," he hummed, his one hand going under my shirt.
"You're taking this pretty well, by the way," I said. He took an audible breath and let it out.
"Well, I figure if you wanted me dead, that would have happened a while ago. And I trust you, and, well, yeah things are different now. This will take some getting used to, but- I love you, Richard."
My heart soared, and a smile grew on my lips.
"I love you too."
Present Day
Micah's Apartment
When I awoke, the warmth surrounding my body was what I noticed first. The loose weight came next. Then, his sweet smell.
I rubbed my head into the pillow, reveling in its softness of it and the sheets. When I finally resigned to opening my eyes, the room was dim, with just stints of the morning daylight coming in from the sides of the blinds. The little digital clock read 6:05 AM. We had both slept like rocks, being in nearly the same position as we had fallen asleep in. His leg had moved over both of mine, but I was still holding his body to me, his head resting on my shoulder. I looked down at his face, soft and relaxed, simply beautiful. I listened to his heartbeat and watched the veins in his throat pulse with each beat. I started to rub his back and looked up at the ceiling.
New York was still quiet, the bustle of the city not quiet making its presence known to the world as the city that never slept, woke up peacefully. There was the occasional car that drove past or the sound of a front door outside slamming shut.
I imagined the coffee shop down the street flipping over its open sign as it prepared for the first customers of the day. Sleepy patrons walking and pulling up in their cars, awaiting the serenity that a warm breakfast sandwich and cup of coffee brought them.
I imagined what Micah would look like during the mornings when he would get up to go to work. How he would move around the apartment, take care of Pearl, shower, dress and put himself together. Did he listen to music as he got ready? What would his favorite foods be now? What was his go-to for breakfast? Did he have a piece of clothing he wore specifically for Mondays?
My eyes drifted back down to the man in question as my hand ran slowly down his side, feeling the strong bundle of muscle under his skin. He drew in a deep breath, his chest puffing up some as he started to stir. He rolled his head lazily before his eyes started to blink open sleepily. Surprise fluttered across his face as his eyes went wide, right before a yawn had them closing again, and his mouth opening.
"Christ, that's a morning view to wake up to," he said lazily and then nuzzled his face into my chest. I smiled, chuckling quietly.
"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been taking advantage of that view for a while now," I admitted with no shame. The clock on the nightstand showed 6:45 AM. "What time do you have to be at work?" He groaned into my chest, his arms snaking their way around my body, squeezing me.
"Never," he grumbled, but then sighed. "But actually nine." Suddenly, the sound of a dog shaking herself, floppy ears slapping fur, fill the room until Pearl jumped up on the foot of the bed, reforming into her little ball. The dog huffed long and loud and then became still once again.
"She does that every morning," Micah said, both of us looking at her. "She starts on the bed, ends up on the floor, and then comes back up once I'm awake. I don't get it."
"Maybe she sleeps better?" I suggested, laying my head back down on the pillow. Micah's head joined the space next to mine, both of us looking up at the ceiling.
"Speaking of sleep," his hand found mine and intertwined our fingers. "How'd you sleep?" he asked. I squeezed his hand lightly, rubbing the pad of my thumb over the top of his hand.
"Better than I have in a long time. A long, long, time," I said, nearly shaking my head in disbelief. I turned my head slightly so I could see him. There was a goofy little smile on his lips.
"Me too, Richy." His words were spoken softly, almost like he was going to cry. I turned myself on my side and snuggled myself up against his body. His one arm went under my hand and around my back, while mine went across his abdomen. "Almost feels like you never left."
Ouch...
"Oh fuck!" he said under his breath. "I didn't mean it like that." A red tint quickly filled his cheeks. I shrugged and continued to let my head rest on his chest, my pointer finger making small circles near his belly button.
"I mean, you're not wrong," I said, sighing, stating the obvious. "But no, I know what you mean."
"Sorry." He looked guilty.
"Don't be. What matters is we're here now."
We're here now fixing it. His grip grew a little tighter.
"Yeah..." he said quietly, leading into more. "But what I meant- I mean, I feel like we're back in Cali, just you and I, one of our dorm rooms when we first started dating."
"It feels normal," I added, or, maybe more suggested... hoped?
He nodded. "Perfect," he whispered.
We laid in bed in a comfortable silence for another ten minutes until his alarm started to go off. Pearl perked up and soon the apartment became alive as we both got out of bed. He didn't eat breakfast at home, having, at most, a coffee before he left. Most days, he stopped at the coffee shop at the corner before heading downtown. I had hopped in the shower and had shampoo in my hair by the time that I head the door to his apartment open and shut, Pearl's paws tapping on the floor as she trotted through the space.
"Want food, baby?" I heard Micah coo at her. The sound of little dog food pellets hitting a bowl followed shortly after. And then his footsteps approached, and the bathroom door creaked open from where I had left it cracked. A giddy smile grew on my lips as I heard his clothes hitting the floor.
"Start without me?" he asked coyly, stepping into the shower behind me. I ducked my head under the water and rinsed the suds out of my hair.
"Just some," I said as his arms slid over my shoulders, his front coming flush with my back, his larger frame enveloping me. He hummed softly into my ear as his arms pressed me back lightly to his body, his thumbs making small, slow swipes at my skin around my navel. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back against his shoulder. He hummed happily.
"I wish we had time," he murmured. I kept my eyes closed, letting the moment stay for as long as I could keep it.
"Do you want to come over tonight? Bring Pearl? I can make you dinner. Spend the night?" I asked, hopeful. He kissed my cheek.
"I'd love to."
"And in the meantime," his lips moved to my neck, making me pause. "I'd like to just enjoy this." I said with a happy sigh, moving us into the hot spray.
We washed each other's bodies, our fingers lingering on skin when speed should have been a priority. I breathed his scent in, the want to drink just a sip enticing, even being full. The way his hands gripped my body with a gentle ferocity, like a needy angel. My angel. It lit my body ablaze in ways that I hadn't felt in years, all the emotions of the last twenty-four hours all combining into this deep fire in my heart and my soul. An `I love you' or two may have slipped out between both of our lips.
Before long, we were standing in front of his car, dressed and ready for the day. People walked on the sidewalk, talked on their phones, moved about their lives, blissfully unaware of the two of us having and ending to our new beginning. Each of us had stupid smiles on our faces, looking into each other's eyes bashfully while neither of us wanted to actually say the word.
"I do need to get to work at some point," he said, his cheeks blushing slightly.
"You still have a half-hour," I said, knowing it was garbage. He still smiled while he rolled his eyes.
"In New York City traffic. Don't remind me." Again, it was back to more of the adoring looks. I ended up closing the space between us. My arms wrapped loosely around his waist while his hands moved to my shoulders.
"What time should I expect you?" I asked, my voice quieter.
"Around seven-ish, probably. I'll text you when I'm leaving work."
Butterflies fluttered about in my stomach. "Okay," I said breathlessly. He smirked.
"Okay," he chuckled right before he kissed me softly. It was brief, but the emotion was not lost with time. As he backed away and unlocked his car, his face shifted to that of a longing soul, albeit a content one.
"I'll see you tonight," he said as he rounded his car to the driver's side.
"Tonight," I mirrored and looked down at my shoes.
I heard his car door open. "Hey!" he called. I looked up into those beautiful, icy, baby blues filled with warmth. "I know what you're thinking," he winked, and I swear my body melted there on the sidewalk. "I love you too."
It was like deja vu watching his slick Audi roll down the street, but this time, I didn't feel like my heart was breaking all over again. Now, I was left soaring with those little heart shaped emojis fluttering around my head like in a cartoon. My skin was tingling from glee that I couldn't help containing, and that mood stayed on my short walk back to my house to change. Even as I unlocked the door to my office, I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. It wasn't until midway through the lunch hour that there was a knock on my door.
"Come in," I called, and the door opened with Clarissa standing there with one of those Campbell's to-go cup soup things.
"Judging by how it looks like you're not dying, I'm assuming something good happened?" she asked, walking into the room, the door slowly swung closed behind her. I looked up at her, and I could tell she saw the beaming look on my face. "I'll take that as a yes?" she asked, raising a brow. I could feel moisture coming to my eyes as I nodded, getting ready to speak.
"Ten. Fucking. Years, Clarissa. Ten. Years." I nearly doubled over my desk as the moisture turned into happy tears that started to gather, spilling over. She went ahead and took one of the seats in front of my desk. Her manicured hand came out and rested atop one of mine, squeezing it lightly for reassurance. I looked up at her with a small, tight smile, and wiped away my fallen tears.
"Sorry, I just..." I stopped and took a breath to relax. "It just took so long. So very, very long to have this man back in my life, and now, and now I have him and I feel happy for the first time since I left California. Actually, truly happy. Not a happiness that I get from doing something I enjoy. That happiness fades, but this, him, knowing that he's in my life again, it makes me truly, physically and mentally happy." I had to wipe away more tears when I looked up at Clarissa's empathetic, smiling face. Her other hand came over top of the other one and she was nearly vibrating.
"I want to know, everything!" she said, her voice overemphasizing the last word. Her eyes twinkled with delight and excitement, and I couldn't help the strangled laugh that emerged from my throat. I nodded my head, and only a few seconds later began to divulge everything from last night starting with the messages, and how right she was to just message Micah, the talk in the park and the earth-shattering kiss, to his apartment and this morning, leaving out the more... explicit details. Thinking about our time together yesterday and Micah in general, I could nearly smell the man's rich woody scent as if he were standing in front of me. Touching me. Holding me close to his warm body.
"Richard!" she cooed, her voice breaking a few octaves. "That's wonderful!" And then she leaned in closer to me, a curious glint in them. "So tonight when he comes over, when you guys talk about the future, how do you, what are you..." her words trailed off, but my answer was simple.
"I need to tell him that I'm never leaving him again. And we still need to catch up. Most of yesterday was apologies and getting over some of the pain that was created-" I took a pause and nearly bit my tongue. "That, I, created," I amended.
"Okay, but you even said that he blames himself partially," she added.
"Yeah, but-" she cut me off.
"Richard, stop!" she stressed softly. "You were literally just so pumped. I'm not excusing you or saying that you aren't mostly at fault here, but what I should say is that the blame isn't all on you and, fuck, it has been ten years. He forgave you, mostly, so you should maybe start to forgive yourself."
I stared at her blankly for a moment, trying to read into what she was saying, but it became quickly apparent that was she was saying was literal. I looked down at the wood grain of the desk. And, I mean, she wasn't wrong. It had been a long time, and last night had solved the main issue between Micah and I, but I still had trouble getting over the fact that it had been me that left in the first place. If I never had, none of this would be happening right now and Micah and I could have been celebrating a ten year of something. There was no way that I was ever going to stop feeling guilty about that or feel some kind of shame.
"You're thinking way too hard about this," she said, a bit of concern in the soft, motherly tone she carried.
"Maybe." Yes.
"I'm not saying you can snap your fingers and make everything feel right again, but you have time to start forgiving yourself. Especially so if your time will be spent with Micah," she said. "Forgive yourself by making him laugh. Make him smile. Make him as happy and sappy as you were when I came in here."
I looked up at her and gave her a small smile.
"I think I can do that," I told her.
"Great!" she exclaimed. "Now what are you making him for dinner?"
R: Hey, quick question... what do you want for dinner?
I was pissed at myself. I had the windows above my sink open, two box fans I hauled out from the basement sitting on the counter trying their best to blow the dark smoky haze out of the kitchen, a frying pan of burnt veggies and chicken breast in the sink with water running on it trying to unstick the charred foot from the `non-stick' pan. Granted, they probably didn't intend someone to fuck up this badly. Sighing and hanging my head, I typed out more.
R: It'll need to be take-out...
His text came in while I tried to further scrape the chicken off with a butter knife.
M: Do I even want to ask what the context to this is?
R: I'd really appreciate if you didn't.
M: Lol M: Fire alarm? M: It's sweet you tried to cook for me :)
R: No, thankfully that didn't go off.
M: Well, I'm going to test you. Order Chinese. Don't care from where. M: But here's a test. I want what I always ordered in college ;)
December, 2006
Santa Clara University
Micah's Dorm
"So you've never had Chinese food before?" Micah's eyes were wide and glaring at me with a mix of incredulities and shock, or maybe it was terror? I couldn't be completely sure, but whatever it was, he wasn't pleased. Still, I stood there with a smug look on my face, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Nope."
"How?" he shot back instantly, the menu crumping some in his hand. His other clutched the phone harder.
"Because when I was born, the wonders of a global food market were not yet a reality, and by the time it was, I had long since needed to eat regular food."
Micah groaned, throwing his head back before flopping on his bed, the phone base somehow not being tugged off the desk by the wire. I couldn't help but chuckle at his overdramatic behavior. It was the last week before winter break, and Micah and I were both ahead of the curve. Most of our classes already had our finals for the term, and the ones that we had left we were arguably overly prepared for. Being so, our evenings had been spent hanging out, exercising, gaming, cuddling, and, well, being under the covers. I laid down next to him.
"And you've never been to China, with all the time that you had?" he asked, his voice more mellow, but still sounding like he couldn't believe life as it was. I shook my head, my hair rubbing against the bedding.
"Nope, I've liked my life where I've been. I've gone to western Europe several times, but there's another old vamp that I keep in touch with from time-to-time. Last time I went was early nineties." I rolled my head over and looked at the side of his face, rolling my eyes down the outline of his features. "I also looked like an adult the last time I was there," I added, chuckling lightly. He groaned, and I felt his weight shift on the bed. Only a half second later, his body was pressing mine into the mattress, his lips only a few inches from mine. His eyes looked at me with a seductive mockery.
"Ah, I forgot what an old man I'm dating," he joked, his voice husky with a subtle laughter. I smirked, rolling my eyes before using my power and speed to reverse our position. His whole body went tense once he was on his back, his mouth agape in shock. I pecked his nose.
"Oh yes, terribly old. Unlike humans..." I leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Age makes me-" I squeezed his biceps where my hands were pining his arms. "Stronger."
His whole body shivered under me as I raised my head back up, our eyes connected. It didn't last long though, as I released my grip and became deadweight on top of him, I tucked the top of my head under his chin, nestling into his neck. I could hear and feel him humming his satisfaction, and his arms came around me, squeezing me tightly to him.
"This is nice," he said, his voice sounding relaxed and far away. All I did was nod lazily, breathing in his scent, smelling his blood under his skin, and listening to his beautiful heart beat its methodical rhythm.
I must have dozed at some point, as my eyes flickered open to the warm, spicy, chicken-y smell that was assaulting my nostrils. I was under the covers of Micah's bed, my head laid perfectly in the center of a pillow. Micah was sitting at his desk, shirtless, shoveling spoonful after spoonful of some dark colored soup into his mouth. There was another container filled up past the brim with some kind of chunked fried chicken. The lights were off in the room besides the one at his desk, along with his laptop playing a show. There was no sound though. He had subtitles on.
"Hey," I said softly, my voice still husky with sleep. Micah paused with another spoonful halfway to his mouth.
"Welcome back to the land of the living," he said with a small smirk on his face.
"Hardy har-har," I grumbled jokingly, rolling my eyes.
"Get it? Because you're undead? And you were sleeping? And now you-"
"I get it!" I grumbled jokingly, fighting back a laugh from the stupidity. I sat up in the bed and tried to rub the sleepiness from my eyes. "What did you get?"
He paused again and looked down at his food, pointing to the chicken thing first.
"Orange chicken with fried rice, and hot and sour soup. It's my go to," he said, his one cheek bloated from food he had shoved to the side of his mouth to talk. "I know you can't really eat a lot, but do you want to try it still. It feels wrong that you've never had Chinese take-out. I got you a small order of the orange chicken."
I slid off the bed and moved over to him, standing next to the corner of the desk. "It won't hurt. I drank... recently," I said. I knew he knew that I was lying. Still, he smiled and stabbed a piece of chicken from his dish. I bent down some as he brought the fork up to my mouth, my lips closing around the piece of meat. It wasn't that human food was bad; it still tasted good, but regular food's taste was dulled compared to blood. Even still, as I chewed the chicken, the sweet, tangy sauce danced across my tongue.
"And now soup," he said and repeated the same motion with the spoon. The spoon struggled to hold a piece of tofu, some veggie thing, and a mushroom as well as the liquid.
As the soup hit my mouth, a slight moan of satisfaction came from my throat. I chewed the chunks before I swallowed. The spongey tofu and crunch of whatever vegetable I had eaten were battling for texture dominance while the spice of the soup nipped at my taste buds, but then there was this other, calmer taste that I couldn't quite place, but it reminded me of the chicken.
"The secret is to add some of the orange sauce to the soup. Brings out the sweetness a bit more," he said with a smirk. "It's good right?" There was a smidgen of hope in there. I nodded happily and leaned down, giving him a quick peck on his cheek.
"You're adorable," I sighed, chuckling. "But yeah, it was good." The way his face lit up at my affirmation was something else. It was something so simple, yet it made him so happy. But as quickly as his joy appeared, a tentative darkness overcame him, and his eyes cast down.
"What?" I asked.
"Do you need to, like, do you need to eat soon? I know you said you did but like..." he asked awkwardly, his voice low. Prickles went up my spine. It wasn't the first time that he had asked me the question since Thanksgiving, but it was never a super comfortable situation when he did.
"I should soon, but it's something that can wait for now," I told him truthfully, leaning my hip against the desk. He nodded slowly, biting his bottom lip while he did.
"Okay," he said, his voice lower still. I pursed my lips, frowning.
"What is it, Micah?" He paused for a moment, but then looked up at me with wide, worried eyes.
"Do you want to feed from..." his words trailed off, and his eyes fell to the floor. I could feel my face going pale at the realization of what exactly he was trying to ask me. I didn't say anything, however, and just kept silent until he finished the question himself. Even still...
"From me. Would you ever want to feed from me?" he finally said quickly. I nearly snorted and shook my head.
"It's not funny!" he snapped, a bit of desperation mixing in with the anger.
"I know it's not funny. I'm not laughing. It's just the absolute insanity of that-" I stopped myself, taking a brief pause before continuing, looking directly into those iceberg blues in the dim light. "Of course I want to drink from you! I've wanted to taste you from the first day we met. Your smell..." I said, moving closer to him until our knees touched. I picked up his chin delicately between my thumb and index finger, the air between us becoming thick and serious. "You are the desert I want to devour ever second of the day, the craving that won't ever go away."
He gulped hard, his eye blinking fast several times as he moaned softly, quietly, and guttural.
"And I'm not going to do that until I know that I could stop, and only if you wanted it too." I leaned down and planted my lips on his, another quick moan vibrating in his throat. I felt my fangs drop down. "You... are so... intoxicating," I whispered. "But you should finish your food. It'll get cold."
As I pulled away, I watch his face flicker through a wave of emotions from stunned to angry before settling on disgruntled. I grabbed my own serving.
"Dick," he grumbled. "Make me hard and not do anything about it."
My jaw ticked.
"Looks like your food is going to get cold anyway," I muttered before moving back in.
Present Day
Richard's Home
All of Micah's take-out was sitting on the coffee table in the living room. I had brought out several throw blankets and afghans and laid them strewn on the large sectional. There were even a few candles that I had lit that smelled like apple cider.
I had texted Micah to grab some longue clothes for the evening from his house when he picked up Pearl so we could relax and watch a movie or something if we felt like it. He texted back a thumbs up and that he was about ten minutes away. In a separate text was a simple heart emoji, and I wasn't sure why that got my heart racing the way that it did. It was just a stupid shape, but that stupid shape had sentimental meaning behind it. Dammit.
I ended up pacing the first floor of my home until the doorbell finally rang, and in an instant, I was there pulling it open. He stood there in a black t-shirt that hugged his chest, but was loose down on the hem, and a pair of light gray joggers. Pearl was sitting patiently, tongue out, panting happily next to her dad, her colorful leash hanging between her and Micah's hand.
He smiled at me.
"Hey," he said simply, and lord the air was nearly sucked out of my lungs. He was a vision, plain and simple.
"Hey," I said back, my voice a bit dreamier as the adrenaline that was previously coursing through my body suddenly left, leaving my heart stuttering in my chest. We both stood there, smiling, staring, for a few more seconds before I awkwardly stepped back, allowing him to enter my home. Pearl moved first, the happy pup trotting through the front door, tugging Micah along with her.
"Pearl, sit, I need to get your leash off!" Micah called her to her, giggling. The dog spun around and sat, her tongue falling to one side of her jowls. Micah looked at me.
"She gets excited when we go to new places," he said sheepishly and Pearl's eyes were looking in every direction around the foyer. Micah, too, started looking around the pristine details of my house, from the bronze chandelier handing overhead, to the intricate wall boarders, to the side table with the orchids I switched out every so often. "And, your house is beautiful, Rich. Is this the same one you had-" he stopped when he saw me shaking my head.
"No, someone bought that when I left for California. It's just down the street though, so I see it often. There's a family in there now," I told him, closing the front door.
"That's too bad," he said, toeing off his shoes. "It would have been cool to see that place."
I shrugged, and Micah was kneeling down to unclip the leash from Pearl's neck, who quickly trotted off as I started to talk.
"It's fairly similar to this one, the details and finishings. Granted, I'm not sure what they've done with it since I've sold it, and I've updated this one a bunch in the past decade, so maybe..." my words trailed off as I paused, thinking. "Maybe it's not so similar anymore. Regardless, this is... it's my home now." Even I picked up on the slightly depressed tone in my voice, and judging by Micah's pursed lips, so did he. I pushed the tone away, moving up to him and placing my hand on the small of his back, right above his butt.
"I got your food. You should eat," I said, my lips next to his ear.
We moved to the living room and sat on the couch, Micah smiling once he saw the food on the table.
"You remembered," he said quietly, warmly, as he reached for the soup.
"Kind of hard not to," I said honestly. "You ate it all the time." I grabbed one of the blankets and wrapped it around myself, falling over onto my side. I laid there for several minutes as he ate, watching him as he shoveled the food into his mouth. He stopped, setting the container of chicken back down on the table and looked over at me.
"You good just being a blanket burrito right now?" he asked with a smirk.
"At least until you're done eating," I said, unmoving. He scooted himself further back on the couch and grabbed his own blanket before moving himself behind me. He wrapped his blanket-draped arm around me and pulled me in.
"I am," he said into the back of my head. "The rest can be a late-night snack or something." I relaxed back into him, the soft fuzz of the blanket rubbing against my skin was smooth and warm mixed with the weight of Micah's arm coming around my ribs. I listened to him as he breathed deeply, in and out, for a few minutes. If it wasn't for his other hand playing with my hair, I would have thought that he had fallen asleep in some kind of food coma.
"I love you," I said, my voice low and sincere. His arm tightened a little bit.
"I love you, too," he murmured.
"Do you think I may leave you again?" I asked seriously, and Micah's hand paused in my hair. It took him a moment, but he sighed reluctantly.
"Coming out with the heavy-hitters so soon?" he joked dully, the chuckle thereafter fake. I snuggled myself back into him more, not gaining any real ground, but forcing the closeness to another degree, grabbing his hand on my chest in mine.
"Yes, I'm asking the heavy-hitters," I said.
"Well," he sighed. "My heart says no, but my brain says maybe. I didn't think you'd leave way back when either." He swallowed, making a light popping sound with his lips. "I want to blame it on that were just kids, but, fuck, Richy..." he paused again. "You were almost 300 years old then, you're over 300 years now. What difference does ten years make to someone at that point?"
I was about to protest, but he squeezed my hand. "I know you're about to say something like `but it makes a huge difference' or something, and trust me, Rich, I know." I could hear and feel him shaking his head behind me. "Christ, I fucking know, and I wouldn't be here if I actually thought-" his words stopped abruptly, and he sighed. I was holding my breath, waiting, but I couldn't relax my body enough to let it go. At some point, my body had completely frozen up, my muscles coiling together like a tightly pressed spring.
"Realistically, it can happen again, but I know it won't. I know you won't," he finished, and both of our bodies decompressed into each other and the cushions. He continued to play with my hair for several minutes before he said anything.
"She asked about you, you know, a lot, mom did. Till the day she died," she said quietly, remembering. My mouth instantly went dry as my face heated. "She never really got over why we broke up. Confused the hell out of her."
"I never meant to hurt her," I said, my voice sounding incredibly weak.
"I don't think it was pain," he said. "She missed you though. She loved you like one of her own kids."
I nodded, biting my bottom lip as I fought back tears from spilling over. It was like a punch in the gut talking about his mom. Through the years she'd always check in on the two of us, calls, emails, texts, and send care packages that, even though I couldn't eat anything in them, the sentiment always meant the world. Or the demand to send her pictures of any adventure Micah and I would take. She was warm, caring, and loving; all things that were mostly vacant in most of my life until I had loved her son, and until I had met her.
And now she was gone.
"Did she have a funeral?" I asked, my voice low.
"Yeah, I set one up at the church she went to every week. The whole congregation and most of her other friends showed up. It was nice. The priest gave a good talk, and a few others shared a few memories. I..." he sighed. "I couldn't. I just sat and listened. I was so empty then. I didn't have you, hadn't had you in years, and then mom was the only constant, so I just-" he choked on the last word and I felt his body shake. I gripped his hand in mine and squeezed it tightly, just as his arm was doing to me. "I knew I couldn't stay there then, sitting there in the pew. It was all just too much. God, it all sucked."
"And thankfully the house sold quickly. Got what it was worth out of it and I was gone not even a week later," he continued.
"And now you're here," I said.
"And now I'm here."
I rolled in his arms so that I was facing him, our faces close.
"We could go visit her grave at some point, if that's something you'd want to do?" I asked him, offering gently. A sad smile appeared on his face as he reached up and caressed the side of my face.
"At some point, yeah, after more time has passed. I don't think that I could go back to that state for a while." He ran a hand over his face, letting out a sigh between a small gap in his lips. "You haven't been back at all since you left, have you?" he asked, suddenly sounding tired.
"No, I've hardly left New York if I'm being honest," I said, laughing humorlessly after. "Just been me and the concrete jungle, more or less hiding away from the world."
He huffed sadly. "You and me both," he said and then closed his eyes. I shifted down a bit on his body and laid my head on top of his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
"How do you want to do the age thing?" he asked after several minutes of silence. I just shrugged.
"Pick our friends carefully, beards, haircuts and hair dye? I don't know. I don't go out much, but I'm not going to stop you or us as a couple having a social life. There's enough beauty product bullshit that I can fake it." I told him, running my hand under his shirt to feel the warm skin and hair underneath. "But mostly, just deal with it as it happens. We have time right now to not worry about it. Feeding from you, we'll see how the aging thing goes looks wise. You'll age slower."
"People get so much plastic surgery anymore..." Micah said.
"Honestly, definitely not something I ever saw coming. Works in or favor though."
The warm, content sigh that followed from Micah vibrated his torso. His hand had come to rest on my lower back, and I snuggled my face into his body some. "I can live with that. It's not like I know anyone here besides my coworkers, but I'm not super close to them either, so we're in the clear on social life stuff," he said, chuckling toward the end. "I get you all to myself." His voice rumbled, low and smooth. It sent a chill down my spine.
"Forever and always?" I asked him, smiling into his chest. His fingers came to my chin and moved my head back gently. His eyes were open, telling, filled with happiness. His lips curled into a small smile as his hand caressed my cheek.
"Till death takes me from you," he said. I huffed, smiling, rolling my eyes.
"I am Hell, and you are Heaven," I said quietly. I slid up next to him till our faces were next to each other, and his warm breath curled and drifted across my skin. His eyes slowly moved across my face, taking in every detail he could. When his eyes locked to mine, his lids lowered. On his next exhale, I could feel his entire body relax.
"And Heaven loves Hell," he said.
"And Hell loves Heaven."
End
Dear Nifty reader,
Thank you so much for making it to the end of my story. It's taken a lot of courage to finally put something out into the world and I hope that you have enjoyed this story as much as I did writing it. It's something I want to stick with and be able to share more with others who enjoy escaping reality for a bit.
I definetly have more in the works and hope you come back aorund for my next story. Till then, thank you again for reading, and I'll see you next time.
Best wishes,
Taylor R. Bullet
[please send any comments or questions to taylorbulleit@gmail.com. I love to hear from y'all!]