Chapter Text
Lord Shirogane eats men.
It’s been said he is discerning in his taste, but he is also easily annoyed, and he hates to be wasteful, so he eats every man he kills for the offenses of wasting his time, talking too much, being rude, or worst of all, trespassing.
The folk in the valley below his castle know this because Lord Shirogane leaves their bodies impaled on stakes in the wood along the mountain path which leads to him.
The bodies are always drained of blood, or mostly drained, and sometimes their heads are detached, or nearly detached, and other times the only mark on them is two tiny, neat punctures in their throat. Sometimes they’re missing organs — usually the particularly bloody ones, like the liver or the kidneys or the brain or, of course, the heart.
The valley folk have been trying to kill Lord Shirogane for four centuries, now. It’s not going well, and they’re growing weary, because even with the stories passed down through generations, the younger folk are always bolder, more sure that they can do what their parents couldn’t.
And then they end up on stakes in the forest, and it’s back to square one.
But Keith isn’t interested in killing Lord Shirogane.
As far as he’s concerned, Lord Shirogane cannot be killed. The figure who lives in the castle on the mountain is an almost godlike presence in Keith’s mind. His father told him of all the old stories, all the failed attempts, and all the bodies Lord Shirogane returned, hollow and dead.
But he told Keith other things, too: rumors of Lord Shirogane’s power, of the wonderful magic and fantastical inventions he keeps in his castle. Keith’s father told him these stories to further paint Lord Shirogane as untouchable, invulnerable, too far above humanity in every way to possibly be mortal, because Keith’s father did not want his son to die on a fool’s errand, trying to slay Shirogane like so many other boys had.
But Keith doesn’t walk up the mountain path now to slay Lord Shirogane.
Still, he walks.
The newer bodies have all been removed and buried, though the most recent deaths were months ago, Keith muses. The village has been quiet lately, wary and cowering like a kicked hound after the two confident sons of the blacksmith returned, impaled, with their throats ripped out and their faces forever frozen in abject terror. So when Keith starts up the path, the way is overgrown, but he gets past the briars with his trusty knife easily enough.
Perhaps someone in town might have tried to stop him, or even go with him, but Keith doubts they care about him that much, and it’s also the middle of the night. He doesn’t want them to follow him. He may not know exactly what he’s doing, but he knows he needs to do it alone…however this ends.
The woods along the path are silent, save for a few lone owls, the soft chirps of crickets, and the gentle rustling of the treetops in the breeze. The moon is full, or nearly so, and casts a silver wash over the world, dappled across Keith where he walks under the leafy boughs, which are soon replaced by branches bristling with evergreen needles. The moonlight catches on the trees’ beaded sap, so the dark bark seems to glisten with pearls.
It’s this same light that illuminates the oldest of the bones, the ones that were never taken down. There are easily two dozen of them, each skeleton on its own stake. They could be hundreds of years old, Keith marvels, staring at the yellowed calcium and ancient marrow, at the delicate structures which have crumbled or become home to heavy mosses and colorful lichens and mushrooms.
Maybe they should frighten him more, but Keith keeps walking.
The castle gates rise up soon enough after that. They’re formidable wrought iron with spikes all along the top, and covered in a thick ivy which obscures the space beyond. In the darkness, Keith can just make out the black towers looming above. He swallows, steels himself, and knocks on one iron bar. It makes a hollow, ringing sound. “Hello?” he calls softly into the night. “May I come in?”
Silence answers. Keith waits and waits, but there is no reply.
He exhales. Well, he will have to risk the ruder way in. He begins cutting away at the ivy. Before long, he’s made a Keith-sized gap in it, and it’s a simple task to squeeze through the bars and stumble out into the courtyard.
The space is empty, but not overgrown as he expected. There is a large stone fountain burbling in the center, dead leaves delicately adrift on the water’s surface in the pool below. Surrounding it are strange statues of supernatural beasts, giant wolves and winged serpents, and the most beautiful rose bushes Keith has ever seen. Tall and stately, they erupt with blooms of every shade of red. The closer they grow to the castle steps, the paler they become, so that the roses Keith walks alongside as he enters are of the most pristine white.
The main doors open with a slight push. They are heavy, old wood, but not locked. Keith wonders at this for only a moment, because then he is wondering at the massive foyer and the glittering chandelier suspended far above him, framed by a fresco of the heavens. There are no people featured in it, only swirling cosmos and winged creatures Keith has no name for.
Staircases sweep down from either side, and Keith walks numbly up one, utterly in awe of this place. He expected magnificence, but he’s a farm boy: he has never seen true magnificence before. Lord Shirogane’s castle, with its gilded walls, its endless artwork, its velvet upholstery, its expansive rooms, and its arched ceilings, is like a dream.
But Keith keeps walking. He’s not sure what he’s looking for, but he’s sure he’ll know when he sees it.
As he walks down the halls, which begin to twist and turn in disorienting ways, the back of Keith’s neck begins to prickle. He begins to think, with deep, unnerving certainty, that someone is watching him, following him, but every time he glances back, there’s no one there. Keith focuses on breathing, and does not reach for the hilt of his sheathed knife, even as his senses scream that this place is steeped in danger.
When Keith wanders into another cavernous room, his heart leaps, hopeful that he’s finally found what he seeks, but instead he finds himself standing at one end of a long, grand dining table, its dark wood covered in a fine layer of dust. There are places set, but no guests...except for the figure standing at the opposite end of the table, shrouded in shadow.
Keith freezes.
The figure is perfectly still, and then he sees their head tilt, and hears them breathe...no, inhale , long and measured, tasting the air, smelling it, smelling him.
“How considerate of you to deliver yourself to my table,” Lord Shirogane says. His voice is not what Keith expected: soft, elegant, with a low, dark rasp at the edges.
Keith swallows and bows his head. “My lord,” he says, trembling only a little. “I tried to knock, but – no one answered.”
There’s a quiet sound, a scoff, and when Keith looks up again, Lord Shirogane is no longer standing where Keith left him. He has half a second to wonder at this before a hand closes around his throat, and a body presses to his back.
Keith gasps, and Lord Shirogane’s hand squeezes in warning. Keith forces himself to stay still. He does not struggle, not even when Lord Shirogane’s breath, cool as an autumn breeze, feathers across his neck. He does tense, however, when the lord’s other hand cups his hip, caressing the hilt of his knife with long, pale fingers.
“You’ve come to kill me with that?” Lord Shirogane says. “I don’t know whether to be amused or insulted, boy.”
“I haven’t come to kill you,” Keith whispers. His breath hitches as nails dig into his flesh. “I don’t want to kill you, my lord.”
“Then what? Steal from me, I suppose?”
“No,” Keith says, “no, I’ve come to ask for your help, my lord.”
Lord Shirogane laughs. It is a cold sound. “My help?” he repeats. “And why should I help you? Why shouldn’t I snap your neck and drain the life from you, hm? It has been some time, and I am hungry, and you are in my home.”
“My father is sick,” Keith blurts, squeezing his eyes shut as his panicked mind blanks and the words spill out. “I – I didn’t know where else to turn to. He said – he used to tell me stories about the magic and knowledge you have here, and I thought maybe – I could offer you a deal in exchange for something that would save my father. Please.”
Lord Shirogane is quiet. Then his thumb sweeps over Keith’s throat, tracing the line of it, and he says, “And what would you offer me, if I did have this knowledge, this ‘magic’ you speak of?”
Keith bites his lip. “Anything,” he whispers. “I would do anything, my lord.”
Lord Shirogane’s grip tightens. “That’s a dangerous word to offer, boy.”
“I know,” Keith says. “But – I’m offering it.”
Lord Shirogane hums. Then he says, “And what if I don’t want anything you have to offer?”
Fear grips him as he feels Lord Shirogane’s lips brush his jaw. “My lord, please, I’ll give you anything you want, anything at all –”
“Silly boy,” Lord Shirogane sighs, “what could I possibly want from you, except for this?”
He bites Keith, and Keith does struggle, then.
Sharp fangs slide into his throat in twin bursts of pain, and he pitches forward with a ragged cry as Lord Shirogane holds him up, his grip iron and unyielding. Keith chokes, scrabbling at the table, feeling his own hot blood running down his throat, and his vision spots from panic or blood loss or both –
– and then Lord Shirogane is pulling away with a low groan, only to lean back in to lick at Keith’s neck, lapping up the spilled blood in hot, wet swipes of his tongue that make Keith jerk, unsure if he’s trying to get away or get closer. “Mmm,” Lord Shirogane says, “you do taste quite good. A meal to savor, I think. It’s been too long...”
“Please,” Keith whimpers as fangs trace along his veins again, “please, don’t –”
But even as he begs for Lord Shirogane to stop, his body has other plans. Keith doesn’t understand why, but caught as he is between the edge of the table and the hard bulk of Lord Shirogane’s body, arousal has begun to prickle along his skin, his cock chafing against the seam of his pants as Lord Shirogane licks at the bite marks, languid and greedy.
The vampire doesn’t hold him tenderly, certainly not, but Keith has never been held by anyone like this before, and his senses have tumbled into overwhelmed excess – too much feeling, too much touch, too much pain but also bewildering pleasure as Lord Shirogane feeds from him in sharp, sucking pulls.
He’s not the only one who notices.
Lord Shirogane pauses mid-lick, and makes a little noise, almost...curious. His hand on Keith’s hip slides down, away from his knife, and presses right between his legs. Keith moans, hair hanging into his burning face as he ducks his head and Lord Shirogane lightly shapes his cock through the fabric, more like he’s exploring it than actually trying to make it feel good for Keith. Keith’s cock still twitches, hardens further, further betraying him. “What’s this?” Lord Shirogane asks, his voice taking on a soft, wicked hiss in Keith’s ear. “Boy, do you like this?”
Keith trembles. “I – I don’t – I don’t know.”
Lord Shirogane exhales, and then he’s stepping away. Keith stumbles forward, caught off-balance, but he’s manhandled onto his back in the next moment, laid out across the end of the table, the dusty plates and glasses shoved aside. Lord Shirogane looms over him, and now that he can see the vampire’s face, Keith’s mouth goes dry and his cock gives another frightened, helplessly turned-on twitch where it’s trapped and visibly tenting his pants.
Lord Shirogane is beautiful.
He looks like a man, though his eyes glow a bright gold in the dim light, and his long, bloodied fangs are visible as he leans over Keith, lips parted, and inhales, scenting the air again. He wears a fine waistcoat which stretches taut over his broad, muscled frame, and though a single scar slashes across the bridge of his nose and the forelock of hair that falls over his brow is white, he looks startlingly young, impossibly young, for Keith knows full well he is over four centuries old.
“Look at you,” Lord Shirogane murmurs, studying Keith like one might study a butterfly pinned under glass. “Alright. You have my interest, boy.”
Keith is still bleeding all over his table. His chest rises and falls in shallow, labored breaths. “What?” he croaks.
Lord Shirogane raises an eyebrow. “You were telling me the tragic story of your dying father. Go on.” He dabs at his mouth with a white handkerchief he pulls from his breast pocket, staining it immediately. He tosses it onto the table beside Keith and steps between Keith’s splayed legs, reaching down to draw one finger down Keith’s chest, from the hollow of his throat to his navel, but no lower. His nails are more like claws, though Keith swears they were dull and human just a moment before. “Well? What ails him?”
Keith gulps, fighting to concentrate, knowing that if he takes too long, there’s a very real possibility that Lord Shirogane will gut him out of boredom. “I – he was in a fire. We have a farm, and the barn caught fire, and he helped put it out, but he went in to get the animals out, and –” Keith hesitates.
“And?”
“He got me out, too,” Keith whispers, eyes sliding away in shame. “The fire was my fault; I dropped a lantern and it hit the straw.”
A pause. “How unfortunate.” Lord Shirogane’s face is impossible to read.
Keith closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at those golden eyes and sharp teeth. “My father got me out, but he was injured. He got burned, all over his hands, and he’s been having trouble breathing since, and he’s too weak to get out of bed now. Something’s wrong with his lungs. The village doctors can’t do anything for him.”
“Of course they can’t,” Lord Shirogane says. “What did they try to do, cover him in leeches?”
Keith blinks at him. “What?” he stammers. “No – no, they tried to give him medicine.”
“Oh, you’ve finally figured out medicine,” Lord Shirogane says. “I’m so proud.”
Keith doesn’t know what to say to that, so he stays quiet, and Lord Shirogane’s expression turns just the slightest bit considering. “So,” he says, “you come to me now, wracked with guilt because you feel responsible for your father’s mortal injury, offering yourself up on a platter to save him?” Shiro tilts his head as Keith slumps back against the table, indeed wracked with guilt and offering himself up on a literal platter.
“Yes,” Keith whispers.
Lord Shirogane’s eyes narrow. “Well. I suppose it would be terribly sad if I just put you out of your misery now and made your heroic sacrifice all for nothing, wouldn’t it?”
Keith swallows and refuses to acknowledge the tears pricking at his eyes as Lord Shirogane regards him with that cool, blank disdain. “Please,” he says again, trying to appeal to any ounce of empathy this creature possesses. He’s not dead yet; that has to count for something.
Or perhaps the vampire is just toying with him.
But Lord Shirogane says, “Don’t beg. It’s unbecoming. Get up.”
“My lord?” Keith says, and yelps as Lord Shirograne grabs his injured neck and hauls him to his feet, scruffing him like a wayward kitten.
“I propose a compromise,” Lord Shirogane says, staring down at him with an appraising eye. “You know what a compromise is, I hope? See, I pity you and your poor dear father, and I’m intrigued that you think I’m even capable of philanthropy after your village has been harassing me for centuries, but I need to know that this is a fair deal.”
He grabs Keith’s chin, forcing him to look Lord Shirogane in the eye. “I do have medicine that might save your father. It isn’t magic, but it will help him, and if nothing else, it will extend his life considerably. Take his pain away. Allow him to enjoy what time he has left, and give him a good death whenever that time is up. Or, it might even cure him completely. Is that acceptable to you?”
Relief makes Keith’s knees wobble. “Yes,” he says, “thank you, my lord –”
“Not so fast,” Lord Shirogane says. “You promised me anything, but you are a poor farm boy with nothing but yourself to give. Is that right?”
Slowly, Keith nods, though he’s not entirely sure what Lord Shirogane means by giving “himself.” Is he to be an indentured servant, maybe? He could do that. Serving a vampire lord for the rest of his life would be worth saving his father –
Lord Shirogane sends his thoughts stumbling to a halt with his next words. “But humans are fragile, and I don’t think this is a very fair deal for me if you break easily. Do you break easily, boy?”
Keith’s relief gives way to confused dread. Break? “My lord, I don’t understand –”
“You will.” Lord Shirogane strokes his bloodied neck. “Let’s call this an experimental trial, shall we? If you’re still alive by the end of it, then we have a deal. If not…” The vampire studies Keith’s no doubt terrified face. “You’re too pretty for a rude impalement, I think. What would you have me do with your body? Bury it? Burn it?”
Keith trembles. “I – I don’t...”
“Quickly, boy, or I’ll just feed you to the crows.”
“Burn it,” Keith whispers, his heart pounding so hard he feels his ribcage might splinter. And give the ashes to my father, he doesn’t say. If he dies here, his father can’t know. He can’t know that Keith’s last act was to fail him, again.
“Lovely,” Lord Shirogane mutters. “Really, for creatures with such fleeting lives, you get so flustered when asked about post-mortem affairs.” He clicks his tongue and leans down.
“What are you going to do to me?” Keith gasps as Lord Shirogane grasps his jaw and wrenches his head to the side, exposing his throat once more.
Lord Shirogane’s grin is feral. “Anything,” he says, and bites.
Keith’s mind erupts into white-hot pain again, and this time he clings to the front of the vampire’s waistcoat, panting shallowly as he feels Lord Shirogane siphoning his life away in slick draws of blood, his fangs teasing at the fresh wounds, opening them wider, coaxing the veins to pump faster. Blood soaks down Keith’s shirt in a gory display, and Lord Shirogane’s mouth follows it. Keith whimpers, eyes rolling back as he’s bitten again, this time in the meat of his shoulder, as Lord Shirogane unbuttons his shirt and shoves it aside, claws tearing it like wet paper.
Bloody and shirtless and shivering in his arms, Keith can’t stop himself from slumping forward and tucking his face into Lord Shirogane’s chest, needing some kind of support. His sense of balance is quickly failing him, and he’s overcome with lightheaded dizziness. Lord Shirogane doesn’t stop him, but chuckles, wet and thick with Keith’s blood, and runs his fangs along Keith’s bicep until the skin parts and begins to bleed anew.
Even now, pierced open in three places and covered in his own blood, it’s around the time that Lord Shirogane starts licking at Keith’s crimson collarbones with low, pleased sounds that Keith realizes he’s hard again, and this time, Lord Shirogane can feel it pressed to his thigh. The vampire doesn’t say anything of it. Instead, he lifts Keith up, setting him down on the edge of the dining table so that Keith has to wrap his legs around Lord Shirogane’s waist to keep himself upright as the vampire dives in again with another sharp bite to his other bare shoulder.
The angle forces Keith’s cock against Lord Shirogane’s belly, and he feels the way the vampire’s muscled abdomen flexes as he feeds and gathers Keith closer, closer. Keith whimpers, curling into him, legs squeezing around the vampire as his hips give small, shameful jerks, rubbing himself off between their bodies.
It’s both too much sensation and not enough, and Keith knows he’s not here to feel good; none of this is supposed to feel good – and yet, even that thought, the understanding that he is here to be used by Lord Shirogane as he sees fit...even that makes his cock leak, until his pants are soaked before he’s even come. What’s wrong with him? He came here to do something noble, something brave, and now he’s debasing himself to the feeling of a vampire drinking him to death.
Keith doesn’t realize he’s crying until Lord Shirogane sighs and lifts his head, licking his lips, his mouth and chin luridly stained. He steps back, prompting Keith to start to fall forward with a weak moan, only to be caught as the vampire cups Keith’s face in his hands and frowns.
“Stop that,” he scolds. “You’re making yourself more dehydrated, and you need all the water you can get after how much blood you’ve lost.”
Keith blinks rapidly, his vision blurred. “Huh?” He tries to wipe at his face, but his limbs move sluggishly, and when his hand lifts up to his face, it’s covered in blood, and he jolts back.
“Oh, dear,” Lord Shirogane says. “You’re about to lose consciousness, already.”
Keith’s eyes widen. “Wait,” he gasps, “no – please, my lord, I won’t, I won’t.” He can feel the alluring pull of darkness at the edges of his vision, in the haze of his mind, and shoves it away with every bit of willpower left in him. “I can do it, my lord, I won’t break,” Keith babbles, his hands fisted in the vampire’s shirt, stubbornly clinging.
Lord Shirogane looks down at him with dark eyes. “Won’t you, though? You always break, eventually.” He strokes Keith’s hair, and even with his face covered in drying splatters of Keith’s blood, even though the vampire could break Keith’s neck with a simple flick of his wrist, Lord Shirogane looks for a moment almost gentle. “Nature was playing a cruel trick the day that she decided to make humans so damned self-destructive, so willing to throw themselves at death again and again.”
“Are you Death?” Keith asks, slurred and pale and terribly aware of the quick, weak patter of his heartbeat. “Can you take me instead of my father?”
Lord Shirogane smiles faintly, close-lipped. “I’m the closest thing to Death you’ll ever meet, boy,” he says, and after a beat, his hands slide down from Keith’s head to rest on his thighs, and the vampire sinks down to kneel between Keith’s legs where they dangle off the edge of the table.
Keith stares down at him with bleary, uncomprehending eyes, a panicked exhale escaping him as Lord Shirogane’s right hand slides up to his hip and closes around the hilt of his blade, drawing it free of its sheath before Keith can stop him.
Lord Shirogane lets the blade graze his clothed thigh, and Keith whimpers. His hands itch to snatch the blade back, but Keith is fond of his hands, and that seems like a good way to lose them. He bites his tongue, focusing on the pain to keep himself conscious, but he needn’t have bothered, because adrenaline floods him as Lord Shirogane slices at his pant leg, cleanly cutting the fabric along the seam and grazing the skin beneath.
It’s easy for Lord Shirogane to rip the fabric the rest of the way, allowing him access to the tender flesh of Keith’s inner thigh, his breath hot over the vital veins and arteries pumping just beneath the surface. He glances up at Keith. “This is most likely going to kill you,” he says with a hint of apology, and that jerks Keith into a moment of sharp clarity. “Usually, I pride myself on patience, but I’ve had a... dry spell, and I know you’re going to taste divine with your dying breath.”
Keith tries to pull away, but it’s like trying to rip free of iron manacles. “Don’t,” he begs, “please, I can’t die, I can’t let him die because of me —”
Lord Shirogane makes a face and nuzzles against his skin. “Selfless even to the last, is it? No, I don’t believe that. I don’t believe you were really ready to give yourself up — perhaps you planned to try to kill me when I refused, or run like a coward, but you’d never run fast enough. Others have tried.”
He draws his hands down Keith’s legs, tracing the curves of his calves and the tensed tendons of his ankles. “You humans are so terribly selfish. Your defining trait as a species, really.” He sighs. “Still, it’s a nice sentiment. Alas, if only it were true, and you weren’t just doing this to assuage a guilty conscience, or prove your worth by besting me.”
“I’m not,” Keith whispers, “I’m not lying, I never came here to try to hurt you…”
Lord Shirogane’s brow furrows, and then the vampire’s fangs sink into his femoral artery.
Keith howls, choked off and panicked at the end, as he tries to kick out his legs and finds the right one has gone entirely numb as blood pours from the corners of Lord Shirogane’s parted lips. He feeds messy and almost careless, though when he pulls back and sees the amount of blood wasted, he makes a displeased sound in his throat before returning to lap at the red, wet marks that are draining Keith’s heart-blood onto the floor, all over Lord Shirogane’s waistcoat, and across Keith’s own legs and belly, over the shameful, stubbornly remaining bulge of his cock, because despite it all, it feels good when Lord Shirogane feeds on him, touches him, hurts him.
Keith is crying again, or thinks he is; his mind is slow and hazy and he’s babbling nonsense, some broken chorus of please, please, don’t let him die, please don’t, anything, I’ll do anything.
It’s amidst this haze that Lord Shirogane’s mouth releases its suction from his bleeding inner thigh to lap instead over his clothed cock, the fabric now wet from his blood as well as its frantic leaking. Keith cries out, faint and scrabbling at the table, slumping back into it and knocking over glasses and plates which shatter somewhere far away as Lord Shirogane unlaces his pants and mouths directly at the side of his cock, his eyes glowing as they meet Keith’s.
“Huh?” Keith croaks, almost beyond language by this point.
“Hush,” Lord Shirogane says, the touch of his red lips soft, featherlight. “Let me give you something nice, hm? A parting gift.”
“Please,” Keith moans, not knowing if what he’s feeling is pleasure, pain, life, death, or something in between, only that the world smells like iron and sweat and dust and that Lord Shirogane is humming in easy assent and sucking Keith’s desperately hard cock into his bloodied mouth. Keith sobs, eyes blurring and heart pumping and cock sheathed in impossibly wet heat, the vampire’s tongue working at thick veins with teasing flickers, those long fangs framing his most sensitive flesh in a delicate, dangerous cage.
As Keith starts to writhe, squirming between climax and oblivion, Lord Shirogane pulls off, though his hand still strokes around the base, and he murmurs, “You really are the best meal I’ve had in some time, boy.”
It’s unclear which comes first: Keith or his unconsciousness.
*
Keith is wrapped in a shroud, he thinks, and then it occurs to him that he probably should not be aware of his own shroud-wrapped state.
This realization makes him jerk in panic, and the further realization that he can move, and gasp, and make frightened sounds, leads him to believe he is somehow not dead at all.
He’s not dead, but it doesn’t make sense. He failed Lord Shirogane’s trial…he failed his father, he failed –
A shadow falls over him, and Keith shrinks back, only to find himself staring up at Lord Shirogane. Keith hardly dares to breathe, but blinks at him as he’s studied by those cold yet curious eyes. Lord Shirogane cups his face, his thumb resting on Keith’s lower lip. “Hello.”
“Did I break?” Keith asks, dazed.
“In a manner of speaking. Don’t worry. I put you back together.”
And, in fact, as Keith takes stock of himself, he finds his neck and thigh and shoulder all bandaged, with some sweet-smelling poultice on them, and where there should be stinging pain and raw wounds, there are only healing scars. Keith swallows. He’s not sure he understands what’s happening, but…
“So...will you help my father?” Keith asks.
Lord Shirogane huffs and pulls away. “You really aren’t going to give that up, are you? Very well. A deal is a deal. I admit, I underestimated you. For such a little thing, you don’t die easily.”
“I’m not a thing,” Keith whispers, licking his dry, cracked lips. “My name is Keith.”
“Oh, you have a name,” Lord Shirogane says. “How quaint.”
Keith thinks he’s being talked down to, but it’s better than being eviscerated. “What should I call you, my lord?”
Lord Shirogane’s eyebrows go up. “I won’t object to ‘my lord,’ although I could see it getting annoying. Though, I suppose you won’t be around for very long, anyway.”
“Oh.” Keith’s gaze falls. “Will you kill me after my father recovers, then?”
Lord Shirogane shrugs. “I haven’t decided, yet.”
Keith gulps. “Oh.” He hesitates. “I can make myself useful, my lord. To you, I mean.”
Lord Shirogane’s eyes glitter – with amusement, not interest. “And how, I wonder, do you intend to do that? You’ve been in bed for three days, so you haven’t been very useful so far.”
“Three days!” Keith tries to sit up, straining against the pillows, and Lord Shirogane steadies Keith’s shoulder, careful not to press against the bandages. “I must – my father will be worried – he will think –”
“That I slaughtered you?” Lord Shirogane finishes. “Yes. Most likely. I nearly did.”
Keith shakes his head, pulse racing. “What if he tries to come after me,” he whispers, “he’d kill himself, trying to reach this place, or the shock would make his heart fail –”
“Breathe,” Lord Shirogane says. “Your heart sounds on the verge of failing, too.”
“I have to go to him,” Keith says, looking desperately to the vampire, “I have to tell him I’m alright –”
“Yes, of course,” Lord Shirogane says, “why don’t I just let you traipse back down to the village full of people who want to kill me and tell them what I did to you? I see no way that could go badly for me.”
“I won’t say a word,” Keith swears, “I’ll tell them I never even reached your castle, that I – I got lost in the woods, or something –”
“It’s tempting to believe you, but I don’t,” Lord Shirogane says, and before Keith can plead further, he draws something from his breast pocket and holds it out to Keith. “That’s why I made this.”
Keith peers at it. It’s a thin black ribbon with a small but fine ruby pendant in the center, and it looks short, as if to be worn as a choker...or a collar. He swallows and glances back up at Lord Shirogane. “What is it?”
“Insurance,” Lord Shirogance says, weighing the jewel in his hand. “It will silence you if you try to speak a word of me and our deal to your father – or anyone else – and it will, ah, dissuade you from running off.” He smiles pleasantly. “May I put it on you?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Well,” Lord Shirogane muses, “you have the choice of putting this on and living, or refusing and making me unfortunately have to undo all the hard work I did to put you back together.”
“So, that’s a no, then,” Keith mutters.
Lord Shirogane regards him. “It’s bold of you to act as if you didn’t choose this,” he says. “I didn’t drag you up my mountain and through the gates of my castle. In fact, I tried quite hard to keep you away, yet here you are.” He tilts his head. “You made your choice, and now I offer you another: survive and wear this, or bleed out in this bed?”
Keith’s palms sweat, but he frowns. He doesn’t like being told what to do, even if the vampire is right. He lifts his chin. “I don’t know,” he says, “if I bleed out, will you suck my cock again?”
Lord Shirogane blinks, his eyes widening for an almost imperceptible moment before his expression settles again. “Would that make dying worth it, for you?” he asks. “Would you abandon your father to his deathbed for the sake of saving your pride and bedding a vampire?”
“No,” Keith snaps, and looks away. Why did he bring that up? Stupid, stupid. What had he expected in reply, other than mockery? He should be mocked, for getting off on nearly bleeding to death. Lord Shirogane must be disgusted by him – maybe he only let Keith live to mock him further.
He hadn’t seemed disgusted when he was sucking Keith’s cock, though...
“Tell you what,” Lord Shirogane says. “You let me put this on you, you go down to the village to give your father my precious medicine, and you be a good boy, and when you return to me, I may just bed you without any bloodletting, if that’s truly what you desire.” He pauses, reconsiders. “Without too much bloodletting.”
“Fine,” Keith says after a pause, and then, because he’s tired and sore and irritable from the surprise of being alive, “only if you stop talking to me like I’m a child.”
Lord Shirogane laughs at him, openly, this time. “A child? No, Keith, you are not a child. That’s not an apt comparison to the way I see your kind. I see you the way you might see those mayflies that live only a day, maybe two or three, if they’re lucky.” He raises an eyebrow. “Do you respect mayflies, Keith? Or do you just swat at them when they get too close?”
Keith stares at him. “How old are you?” he asks.
Lord Shirogane just laughs again, then stops, and reaches for Keith’s throat. Keith flinches, but it is only so Lord Shirogane can wrap the cold black ribbon around his neck, securing it with a loud click at the nape, the ruby resting heavy over Keith’s pulse. Keith shivers at the brush of those cool fingers against his neck, and Lord Shirogane notices, because of course he does, and leans in.
“I’m older than this castle,” Lord Shirogane murmurs, “I’m older than your village and all the families in it. I’m older than the clans who came before them, and I’m older than the kingdoms that call this land theirs.” His lips brush against Keith’s cheek as he pulls away, a mocking simulacrum of a kiss. “The only things here older than me are the stones and the trees and the rivers and the earth and all the ancient bones of ancient things tucked away within it, and even some of them aren’t as old as I am.”
Keith looks at him, silently processing this, though he can’t, in the end, reconcile the towering oaks and the boulder-tumbled slopes of the mountains with the young, handsome man before him.
Instead he says, “I think the earth and the trees and the rivers and all that respect the mayflies. I mean, I think something would go wrong for all those things if all the mayflies died.”
Lord Shirogane’s gaze flickers again, just a little, and the cold curve of his lips softens, just slightly. “True enough,” he says. “I never said I wanted all the mayflies to die. Just the ones that fly into my face.”
“Didn’t I do that?”
“Mm, but you didn’t try to bite me.” Lord Shirogane rises from the bed. “I do appreciate that.”
“You still tried to kill me.”
Lord Shirogane pauses and glances over his shoulder, his smile thin. “Oh, that wasn’t me trying to kill you,” he says. “That was me enjoying myself.” With that, he nods to Keith. “When you’re ready to leave, the front door is open. The medicine for your father is on the table, with instructions. Don’t wander.”
And Lord Shirogane leaves him.
Keith slowly turns to look at the small table by the windows. Upon it, he sees a small collection of vials, and his blade beside them, sheathed but not stolen from him. Even more slowly, Keith gets out of bed, bracing himself on the bedposts and already dizzy with the effort. But he’s upright; that has to count for something. He’s not dead.
Keith inhales, exhales, focuses on the feeling of his bare feet curling into the soft rug beneath him, on the rasp of the bandages against his skin as he staggers forward, on the weight of the new clothes that he’s wearing, a simple tunic and leggings, clothes that belong to a vampire.
Keith supposes he belongs to a vampire now, too.
He takes a moment to face this, arms wrapped around himself, drawing in more unsteady breaths. Through the curtained window, the faintest sliver of sunlight shines, and Keith steps towards it, flinging the curtains open and flooding the room with early morning light.
The view of the valley beyond leaves him breathless: far below, nestled at the base of Lord Shirogane’s mountain, at the edge of the forest, is Keith’s village, bounded by twin streams and protected by a few natural hills and manmade walls. The houses look tiny, as tiny as anthills from here, and the people wandering to and fro might as well be ants, too, bustling about their tiny, meaningless days.
Keith rests a hand on the windowpane and lets his gaze seek out the little farmhouse at the edge of town, at the top of one of the hills, where the white smudges of sheep graze and the single brown cow rests in her pen.
No smoke drifts from the chimney, and Keith’s fingers curl against the glass in worry. “I’m coming home,” he whispers to no one who can hear him. “You’re going to get better, and everything is going to be okay. I promise.”
Keith doesn’t see Lord Shirogane standing behind him in the cracked-open doorway, a tray of tea in his hands, watching him talk to the window for a long moment with unblinking golden eyes before silently closing the door and turning away, just before Keith turns back around.
There’s a single full teacup waiting for him beside the front door by the time he makes his way there, clutching the vials of vampire medicine and Lord Shirogane’s precise notes close.
Keith doesn’t drink it. He doesn’t want to burn his tongue.
*
It takes a long time for Keith to get down the mountain, and he’s already dreading the walk back up, but it’s worth it for the look on his father’s face when he walks through the door.
“Keith?” His father stumbles upright from where he’s sitting, hunched over at the table, which is covered in a worrying amount of weapons. His father is ashen, his bandaged hands bled through in places from the burns that never quite healed, and as soon as he stands, he begins to cough, though he reaches out towards Keith, eyes wide, as if he is an apparition that might vanish in an instant.
“Father,” Keith gasps, and runs to him, ignoring the twinge of his own wounds to guide his father back to his bed where he can slump against the headboard and cough until his lungs have cleared, for the time being. “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” he whispers, laying a hand on his father’s brow and finding it too hot, clammy with fever sweat.
“Keith, you didn’t come home!” his father rasps. “I waited – thought you were attacked, or...done somethin’ foolish…” His father looks up at him, brow furrowed.
“I’m fine, father,” Keith says, and takes the medicines from his pocket. He memorized the instructions as best he could on the way down the mountain, though the notes hurt his head to read, and took him a long time to decipher. Reading isn’t his strong suit.
Still, he thinks he’s got the gist of them, so he keeps the notes tucked away as he readies the vials and powders. He’s also memorized his necessary lie. “I – I went to the capital, to find better medicine for you. See?” He holds up a bottle, but quickly, so his father can’t look too closely. “This will heal you better than the village healers can.”
His father frowns, watching him mix the right vials and ready them in the correct order. “Keith, that’s a dangerous journey...and you didn’t take the horse…?”
“Caught a supply wagon headed that way,” Keith says. “It was a quick ride, really.”
“And how did you pay for all this?” his father presses. “I don’t know...much about healin’, but this seems like an awful lot.”
“It wasn’t much at all, father,” Keith lies, and lifts the first vial to his lips. “Here. This will help your lungs.”
His father’s frown remains, but he nods and drinks the potion, wrinkling his nose but managing to get it all down. “Tastes strange,” he mutters, “not like any med’cine I know.”
“From a talented doctor,” Keith says, and helps him unwind the bandages to apply the poultices of burn ointment to the wounds. “This should heal these right up, real quick. You won’t have to wear these bandages before too long.”
His father nods and lets him go about covering his burnt hands, and drinks the rest of the medicine Keith offers him, and accepts the ointment Keith offers for his chest, too, which is meant to soothe the heart pains he gets along with the coughing fits. Keith doesn’t know how Lord Shirogane knew to include that medicine, but he’s grateful for it, because his father does indeed sigh in relief once all the medicine has been administered, and murmurs, “That does feel...a mighty bit better already, Keith. I hope it helps.”
“I’ll go back to the city to get more,” Keith says, smiling, but his father’s smile falls and he catches Keith’s wrist.
“Son, what’s that jewel you’re wearing?”
Keith freezes. “What?”
“The jewel,” his father says, “the one ‘round your neck. Looks real nice. Looks real expensive.”
“It was a gift,” Keith says, hand going to cover it, and as the words leave his lips, as if the jewel knows it’s being spoken of, he feels it begin to go cold against his throat. Very, very cold. Keith gulps.
“From who?” his father asks. “The doctor?”
“There was a –” Keith fumbles for something, anything that won’t arouse suspicion, but he’s never been a good liar, not on the spot, anyway. “A woman selling trinkets on the side of the road,” he stammers. “I asked how much it was, and she said it was a gift, for free…”
“Keith,” his father exclaims, “that thing could be full of foul curses! I taught you better than to take pretty gems from strangers, didn’t I?”
“Yes, father,” Keith says, “but it’s done no harm, and she was, um, very kind, definitely not, you know, a witch –”
“Keith, you must be more careful, you ought to take that thing off before it can hurt you –”
“No!” At the mere mention of being removed, the jewel flares with wicked frostbite against his neck, and Keith barely stops himself from trying to claw it away. He swallows back a whine of pain. “No,” he repeats as his father stares at him, “I don’t want to take it off, father, I’m sorry. I like it. And it was a gift, it would be rude to throw it away.”
His father is quiet, then slowly leans back against the headboard. “I see,” he mutters. “Keith...be honest with me. If you’re goin’ to the capital again...you’ll come back, won’t you? You’ll be alright?”
“Yes, father,” Keith says, and sits on the edge of his bed. He is a terrible, dishonest failure of a son, but he can only hope his father will forgive him when he is well again. “I’ll be back, I promise.”
“Good.” His father looks up at him, brow worn with concern and three days’ worth of stress. “For a while there, I thought you had done somethin’ foolish like go to the lord of the mountain for help.” His father exhales as Keith sweats. “But – that can’t be so, seein’ as how you’re still in one piece...oh, I was so worried, my boy.”
“You don’t have to worry about me, father,” Keith says, and leans down to hug him carefully, his father’s arms, once so strong, trembling with the frailty of a long illness around him.
He pulls away, and his father’s arm brushes against one of his injured shoulders. Keith can’t stop his hiss of pain. “Sorry,” he says before his father can say a word, “it’s nothing, just, ah, fell off the wagon during a rough patch, got a bit bruised.”
“You got to be more careful, Keith,” his father reproaches, but he seems to believe it.
“I will,” Keith promises. He hesitates. “I’ll leave tomorrow morning, to get you more medicine, alright?”
“So soon?” his father asks, dismay evident. “There’s no rush, Keith, I’ll be fine with you here for a few days, at least –”
“I have to leave tomorrow morning,” Keith says as the jewel burns with cold fire against his skin. He fears that even this compromise is too long spent away for Lord Shirogane’s liking. Keith presses on. “Got to travel to some other towns the doctor mentioned, ones that might have even better medicine. Can’t risk waiting too long, in case...in case you get worse.”
His father looks down at his lap, shoulders slumped. “If you’re sure,” he says. “I just – I thought I lost you, son, and you’re leavin’ again already?”
“I have to, father,” Keith says quietly. “I don’t want to go, either, but I want you to get better. Soon.”
“Yeah,” his father sighs, and rubs his temples. When he looks up again, it’s with a tired smile. “Well, if you’re stayin’ the night, don’t suppose I can talk you into makin’ some of that stew you’re so good at?”
“I was already planning on it,” Keith says with a grin, and turns to the kitchen pots to hide his face as he wipes away the beginnings of frustrated tears. They won’t do him, or his father, any good now.
*
Keith makes the biggest pot of stew he’s ever attempted, and it is delicious and hearty and warm and perfectly filling, and after sharing a dinner of stew and ale and bread from the village baker and little berry tarts Keith got as a treat, it doesn’t take long before his father is snoring, his breaths sounding clearer than they have in a while.
Keith lays in his cot on the other side of their small farmhouse, which he dragged down from his old room in the attic after his father first fell ill. He curls up under the worn blankets of his childhood and watches his father sleep, watches each rise and fall of his chest and knows that each one should never be taken for granted.
In his own chest, he can feel the pendant’s warning ice seeping, threatening to still his heart if ignored for too long. His throat where the pendant rests has been in steadily-increasing agony all evening, but Keith has pressed past the pain, for his father’s sake. Now, though, it’s clear he’s fighting a losing battle. He’s forced to admit that when it is his own will pitted against Lord Shirogane’s, it’s simply not a fair fight.
He must return now, or risk his father waking to the sight of his son frozen and dead on the floor.
“Please forgive me,” he whispers into the sleepy darkness, and rises from his cot, leaving his father alone once more.
*
Keith tries to make it back up the mountain; he really tries. The stew helped with his dizziness and weakened state for a while, but now that he’s attempting to climb the steep path, in the dead of night, without water, he finds himself facing an impossible task.
He doesn’t even realize he’s fainting when it happens. He stumbles towards a tree just off the path to rest against for a moment, and as his arm stretches out, a black wave of nausea overcomes him, and he opens his eyes moments, or minutes, or hours later in a disoriented heap among the leaves, his vision spotting and head spinning.
The pendant burns his skin petulantly, and Keith groans, struggling to his feet and immediately feeling on the verge of fainting again.
He looks up at the remaining path, which only grows steeper.
“Fuck,” Keith whispers, and collapses at the base of the tree, head tilted back, drawing in shallow lungfuls of air. His pulse feels too quick and weak, and Keith doesn’t know much about medicine either, but he suspects that can’t be good.
He looks across the path to several old stakes, the blood from their previous unfortunate occupant long-since dried, but forever darkening the wood.
In the quiet of the woods, Keith muses that, somehow, this has all gone better than he expected. He hasn’t been staked and displayed in the woods for everyone, including his father, to see. His father doesn’t know what he’s done. The medicine seems to be working as promised. And Lord Shirogane hasn’t killed him...yet. There’s still time, and Keith has no illusions about the reality that the vampire could kill him in an instant if the fancy struck him.
Still...it seems that Keith intrigues the vampire, in some small way, and if he can use that, then he might just stay alive, at least for long enough to save his father. That’s all that matters.
Keith breathes in the scent of pine and earth and old bones, and sinks back against the tree. He’ll get up and keep walking...eventually. He just...needs...a little rest…
*
Some time after swooning dead away, Keith becomes aware of the world of the living again, or maybe someplace halfway between worlds, because he’s in the arms of a vampire, who is carrying him up the twisting path and towards the wrought iron gates of the castle, now open for their master.
Keith shifts in Lord Shirogane’s arms, confused, and is alarmed to notice he’s left a small spot of drool on the vampire’s waistcoat, but Lord Shirogane just says, “Be still. You’ve clearly exerted yourself too much already.”
Keith falls obediently limp, his hazy confusion not waning as he’s carried through the gates, over the threshold, and into the dark interior as the doors close behind them. “The necklace hurt me,” Keith says, only half-aware he’s saying it aloud, and Lord Shirogane pauses for half a moment.
“Then it’s working as intended,” he says, and keeps walking. “You lingered for some time.”
“Wasn’t even a day,” Keith mumbles. “I can’t...even have a day?”
“Shush,” Lord Shirogane says. “You can have however long I say you have, and that was long enough.”
“But does it have to hurt like that?” Keith asks plaintively. “Always, when I’m away from you?”
Lord Shirogane is silent, and Keith is certain he’s been ignored, until he finally says, “I will consider looking into some modifications, if it truly bothered you so very much.”
“Thank you,” Keith whispers, recognizing this small kindness as the rare gift it is, even though it is just the possibility of a gift.
“Now hush.”
Keith hushes, and he’s carried into a room of deep, soft darkness, and it’s a terribly easy place to fall asleep in.
*
Keith made the mistake of assuming this bedroom was his, but apparently it is also Lord Shirogane’s.
Keith learns this when he opens his eyes and finds the vampire laying beside him, his head delicately resting on one of the soft silk pillows, his unblinking golden eyes fixed upon Keith. He doesn’t react when Keith opens his eyes, and he doesn’t look away, even as Keith flinches back in surprise.
“Were you watching me sleep?” Keith demands, his voice coming out embarrassingly breathless.
“Mm,” Lord Shirogane says. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t about to suddenly perish. I don’t want humans dying in my beds. Too messy.”
Keith opens his mouth, then closes it. “I haven’t perished,” he finally says.
“No,” Lord Shirogane agrees. He reaches out and touches Keith’s throat, prompting another sharp flinch, but Keith holds cautiously still as the vampire’s fingertips drift down his chest and settle over his belly, playing at the hem of his tunic. “Do you still want me to bed you?”
Keith’s eyes dart up. “Huh? Um – I – did I say that?”
“Yes,” Lord Shirogane says, and pauses, “but you were under some duress, at the time, so I thought I’d ask again. It seems only polite.”
“Am I not – under duress now?” Keith manages, as Lord Shirogane shifts closer, half-looming over him on the bed, but with his hand on Keith’s shirt the only point of connection between them.
“No,” Lord Shirogane says. “Unless you consider my mere presence to be coercive.”
“You make it very difficult to think,” Keith manages.
“Oh?” Lord Shirogane’s lips curl. “That sounds like a problem you have to sort out for yourself.” He leans in, just slightly. “Or perhaps you like not being able to think.”
“I’ve never done this before,” Keith says without really meaning to.
Lord Shirogane hums with vague interest. “Never? Well, that’s alright. I always thought fucking was somewhat overrated.” He wrinkles his nose. “But most humans can’t seem to get enough of it.”
“I’ve never really – had an interest in it,” Keith admits, breath hitching as Lord Shirogane makes another low, considering sound. “Not until –”
“You had my teeth in your throat?” Lord Shirogane finishes, and chuckles. “Oh, dear. Some might call that deviant, you know.”
“I didn’t mean to – to like it.” Face hot, Keith turns away, rolling onto his other side in an act of rebellion that he quickly realizes has just given Lord Shirogane access to his back.
“Of course not,” Lord Shirogane murmurs, “but you did like it, didn’t you?”
Keith stays silent.
“Your silence isn’t very persuasive, when I can smell your arousal,” Lord Shirogane says.
Keith curls in on himself, face burning redder. “What – don’t smell me!”
“Believe me, I’m not trying to,” Lord Shirogane says, “but it’s quite difficult for me to ignore the scent of a fresh meal that seems to be actively begging to be fed upon. That’s how you smell. Eager to be bitten into.”
“I’m not,” Keith protests.
“Yet here you are,” Lord Shirogane says, “with your back to me, not even trying to run. Most would call that eager. Or stupid.”
“Do you want me to try to run?” Keith asks lowly.
“I’d catch you,” Lord Shirogane says.
Keith swallows. “And if I want to be caught?”
Lord Shirogane laughs softly. “I’ve found a human who wants to be hunted? How charming.”
“Don’t mock me,” Keith mutters.
“He wants to be hunted but not mocked,” Lord Shirogane says. “Amazing.”
Keith sits up in a huff and turns back around to face him, and Lord Shirogane does draw back slightly, eyebrow raised. “Do you get off on being cruel?” Keith snaps.
Lord Shirogane’s head tilts. “You think I’m cruel?”
Keith stares at him. “You impale men on sticks after draining them of blood and stealing their organs.”
“That’s not being cruel,” Lord Shirogane says. “That’s being a vampire with a very clear, consistent public image, one that doesn’t seem to be working, because humans are stubborn.”
Keith has the distinct impression that whatever moral compass Lord Shirogane follows is far removed from a human one. “You could just tell them to leave.”
“You don’t think I tried that?” Lord Shirogane taps the bridge of his nose, where the faded scar slashes across it. “I did. I was very polite, once upon a time. That’s how I got this. I gave up on politeness, after that.”
Keith folds his arms, not sure what to do with that piece of the vampire’s past, not sure if he believes it. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Do I get off on being cruel?” Lord Shirogane muses. “That seems like an oversimplification.” He regards Keith with darkly gleaming eyes. “If you’re asking because you fear me being cruel to you, I won’t be. Not too much, anyway.”
“You seemed keen to break me,” Keith mutters.
“You seemed keen to be broken.”
Keith scowls and looks away, hot with humiliation, only for Lord Shirogane’s hand to capture his jaw, tilting his face up towards him. “You didn’t answer my question,” the vampire says. “Do you want me to bed you?”
Keith doesn’t think. He’s on edge, prickling all over with shame and a deeper heat than that, so it’s pure instinct when he looks up, gaze flicking between Lord Shirogane’s burning eyes and his parted lips before he surges forward to kiss him in a clumsy rush.
As if this wasn’t embarrassing enough, Lord Shirogane catches his jaw before their lips touch, and says, so close Keith can feel the ghost of his breath, “Ah, ah, use your words.”
Keith stares up at him. “Yes,” he grits out.
Lord Shirogane’s grip softens. “Was that so hard?” he asks, and draws Keith in the rest of the way.
Keith kisses him hard and utterly inelegant, feeling all the more clumsy when faced with the easy grace Lord Shirogane moves with, the vampire’s lips slow and cool against his own. They kiss like this for some time, until Keith’s tingling with the hazy newness of the sensation.
But everything Lord Shirogane does is laced with vague disinterest, and this is confirmed when Keith scrambles into his lap, thighs bracketing his hips, and finds that although his own cock is clearly hard and aching between them, Lord Shirogane seems entirely unaffected.
Keith pulls back with a huff, a string of spit connecting them from his messy licking. Lord Shirogane wipes it away with his thumb. “Can you not…?” Keith starts, glancing down between his legs.
Lord Shirogane gives him an amused look. “You thought a single kiss would do it for me? Cute.”
Keith frowns, because this isn’t really an answer, and sounds more like a challenge, so Keith dives in to kiss him again, strangely maddened by the vampire’s apparent lack of excitement with him, or with any of this. Keith is here to prove his worth, to make his end of the deal good for Lord Shirogane, and he’s frightened by the possibility that nothing he does could satisfy Lord Shirogane physically, except for letting the vampire nearly kill him again.
But when Keith tries to grind down against him, copying the motions he’s observed during crowded tavern nights when the couples in the corners can’t restrain themselves after a few too many ales, Lord Shirogane breaks the kiss to hold him at arms’ length, then nudge him down onto the bed under him. Keith goes without a fight, heart leaping, taking this as a sign that the vampire is aroused after all, but when their eyes meet, Lord Shirogane looks as calm and bored as ever, and begins unlacing Keith’s pants.
“What are you doing?” Keith demands, even as his cock twitches against the straining laces.
“Bedding you,” Lord Shirogane says. “Wasn’t that the plan?”
“Yes, but you…” Keith flaps a hand at him. “Don’t you have to, um, take your clothes off, too?”
Lord Shirogane purses his lips. “For this, no. I’d rather not roll around with a human like a sweaty animal.”
Keith’s protest is cut off when Lord Shirogane frees his cock and closes his lips around the crown of it, sucking with maddening gentleness, hardly applying any pressure at all. He pulls off seconds later, and Keith is struck with the fear that the vampire will just leave him here like this, fully disgusted by humans and their human needs, but instead Lord Shirogane muses, “You do make a good mouthful,” and this time swallows Keith’s cock down to the root with what seems like no effort at all.
Keith moans, eyes flying wide and legs kicking out as Lord Shirogane settles between his legs and sheaths Keith’s dripping cock in his damn throat, his tongue laving softly against it, his lips stretched wide and eyes serenely shut, though Keith is under no illusions about him not paying attention. He knows full well that if he tried to make a single move against Lord Shirogane right now, the vampire would have him dead in half a second.
The thought makes his cock twitch again, leaking in Lord Shirogane’s warm, wet mouth.
Lord Shirogane hums, and Keith bites back a whine, because that’s better, or worse, he doesn’t know, thrumming through his cock and his core as the vampire slowly draws back until he’s only licking at the tip, again, revealing the shiny length with a slick sound as it slips free.
Lord Shirogane is impossibly neat about the whole thing – no spit drips down his chin, and each lick is calculated, almost prim, tongue curling around to catch each drop of precum before it falls. He’s careful, too, to keep his fangs at bay – Keith doesn’t know how he avoids scraping them against the sensitive flesh, but he’s not complaining. When Lord Shirogane takes him deep again, hollowing his cheeks, Keith bites back a cry and throws an arm over his face, struggling to hold in the frantic sounds caught in his throat.
Lord Shirogane stops entirely, pulling off and leaving Keith’s cock cold and neglected, and makes a disapproving sound. “No, no,” he murmurs, grasping Keith’s arm and drawing it away from his face, “let me hear you.”
Keith exhales and nods frantically, too far gone already to sort through this command, and to his relief Lord Shirogane returns to sucking his cock in long, languid motions. It’s both too much and not enough, and Keith suspects the vampire knows this, considering how he’s drawing this out, repeatedly pulling back or off entirely just to watch Keith swear and squirm and barely stop himself from begging.
Thankfully, Lord Shirogane doesn’t demand any pleas from him, and at long last Keith comes with a gasping moan, spilling across Lord Shirogane’s tongue before he can warn him off. Neat as ever, Lord Shirogane swallows and draws away with a few final licks, as if to clean him off.
Keith lies boneless and panting on the bed. Lord Shirogane eyes him.
“Are you satisfied?” the vampire asks, toneless and quite uncaring.
Keith blinks at him, and becomes aware of how absurd he must look, cock softening on his clothed thigh, his tunic soaked in sweat and his hair a mess from tossing about on the pillow. “Yes,” Keith says in a small voice, and then, awkwardly, “thank you.”
“Hm,” Lord Shirogane says, and rises from the bed, smoothing down his slightly rumpled waistcoat. “You’re welcome.”
Keith slowly sits up, curling his legs to his chest and tucking his cock back into his pants, feeling small and clumsy and stupid. “That’s...that’s it, then?”
“What, sex?” Lord Shirogane shrugs. “I suppose. I promised a bedding, you have been bedded, our score is settled.”
“Did that…” Keith hesitates and ducks his head, not sure he wants to know the answer. “I mean, are you satisfied, my lord?”
Lord Shirogane’s head tilts, just slightly. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen humans in the throes of pleasure rather than painful death. It’s mildly entertaining.”
Mildly entertaining. Lord Shirogane finds him mildly entertaining. Keith hunches his shoulders. “Oh.”
Lord Shirogane looks at him for a moment more, then goes to the bedside table and pours something from a pitcher there into a crystal goblet. As he turns around, Keith braces himself for it to be filled with blood...but it’s just water, and the vampire hands it out to him. Keith takes it with shaky fingers, staring down into it.
“You still need rest,” Lord Shirogane says. “If you require food or drink, ring that bell, and a servant will attend to you.” He gestures to a small silver bell hanging from a chain on the other side of the bed.
“You have servants?” Keith saw no one in the castle, though he only saw a small part of it…
“I’m a lord, aren’t I?” Lord Shirogane goes to the door. “Goodnight, Keith.”
“Goodnight,” Keith whispers, and is left alone in the middle of a vampire’s bed, disappointed and apparently deflowered.
*
When he does ring for food not long after, a knock on the door comes as soon as the bell has faded.
Keith startles and calls, “Come in,” hurrying to make himself presentable, but when the door creaks open, there’s no one standing there. No one except for a shadow, a hazy black silhouette which waits on the threshold.
Keith gulps. He is truly alone here, then, in this castle of blood and specters. “I’m hungry,” he says quietly to the darkness. “Could you…bring me a plate of dinner, please?”
The shadow bows, a single fluid bend at the waist, then closes the door.
Not long after that, there’s another knock, and the door creaks open to reveal a covered dish, left on the ground like one might leave a meal for a dog.
Keith takes it, bracing himself for a human head or some equally gory surprise to be waiting beneath, but it’s just soup.
It’s not very good soup. Keith forces it down. He doesn’t want to call the shadow servants again.
*
Keith wakes to teeth in his throat.
“Hrk,” Keith gasps, trying to tear away, and it’s a good thing that Lord Shirogane holds his head immobile, because probably nothing good would come of fangs that sharp ripping out of his neck that quickly. Keith sucks in air, breathless from the pain and the shock of being woken up like that, but holds still, and when he buries his face in Lord Shirogane’s neck with a whimper, the vampire doesn’t stop him.
Lord Shirogane takes his sweet time before releasing him. Keith flops back down against the pillows, taking in ragged breaths, and reaches for his bloodied throat as the vampire’s bloodied face looms over him, but Lord Shirogane shushes him and puts something else over the wound, soft fabric. It’s blessedly cool, and Keith whines at the relief of it, then gasps as he feels his skin pulling back together, healing with impossible speed.
After about a minute, Lord Shirogane pulls the strange cloth away, and peers down at Keith’s neck, making a low, pleased sound. “It works,” he says. He strokes his fingertips across the pink flesh, and Keith shivers.
“What – did you do?” Keith croaks.
“Magic,” Lord Shirogane says with a little wiggle of his fingers. “Or very advanced science, take your pick.”
“So you can feed from me more?” Keith guesses.
“So you don’t bleed out on me,” Lord Shirogane says. “It occurred to me that, seeing as how I don’t tend to keep human pets around my house, and am admittedly unused to your scent in constant, close proximity, it can be difficult for me to resist…partaking.” He smiles, close-lipped. “And, well, before too long I expect I might take too much, bite somewhere I shouldn’t, and that would mean a sudden end to our agreement. I don’t intend to break that agreement, so I’ve come up with a safeguard.” He holds up the bloodied, faintly chemical-smelling cloth like it means anything to Keith.
But he did say something interesting, just then. “I smell…good to you?” Keith asks, carefully, still swallowing back the residual panic from his rude awakening. “Not just — eager to be bitten into?”
Lord Shirogane raises an eyebrow in slow increments. “Ah,” he says after a pause, “you think I prefer unwilling prey? Frightened prey, hot from the chase and the fight?” His fangs flash with the words, but his expression sobers. “I don’t, really. Such prey requires effort, and I’m tired. You’re a nice change of pace.”
“Because I’m easy prey?”
Lord Shirogane shrugs. “They’re all easy prey. It’s like this: all your foolish fellow villagers are like rats wandering into the lion’s den, trying to kill it with sticks. You, on the other hand, are the rat who brought a twig, curled up at my feet, and offered me your little rat life. Absurd, but amusing. For now, at least.”
Keith looks at him in disgust and tries to ignore the ominous for now. “You eat rat blood?”
Lord Shirogane blinks. “It was a metaphor, boy.”
“Well, I didn’t like it,” Keith says. “I’m not a mayfly or a rat. I’m a person.”
“Indeed,” Lord Shirogane says, and pats his neck right over the wound. Keith hisses, and the vampire’s grip tightens, squeezing his throat, not with malice but with idle curiosity, like he’s hypothesizing how much force it would take to break Keith’s neck. Based on the pain arcing down Keith’s spine and his ragged gasps, it wouldn’t take much more. Lord Shirogane lets go. He doesn’t look angry. More like...fascinated. He steps away. “What do people do?” he asks.
Coughing, Keith wheezes, “What?”
“Do you have…some hobby, something you like to do to pass the time?” Lord Shirogane says slowly. “Like art, perhaps, or…reading?”
What is he on about? “I work on my father’s farm.”
“Hmm. I see. Do you like gardening?”
Keith squints at him. “You want me to be your gardener?”
“It is an option,” Lord Shirogane says. “I would like to offer you options with which to spend your time. Unless you actually enjoy laying in bed all day. In my experience, that tends to foster more depression than enjoyment, but maybe humans work differently?”
“I…” Keith needs a moment to process the whiplash his thoughts are whirling through. “I guess gardening might be nice.”
Lord Shirogane hums. He sounds…pleased. “Then you may garden. There are tools and such in the shed. Don’t mind the servants.”
Keith definitely minds those things. “My lord, um…what are they?”
“Not alive,” Lord Shirogane says. “Just manifestations of my ‘magic,’ I suppose. Useful little extensions of myself.”
“You can make ghosts?” Keith whispers.
Lord Shirogane laughs. “I will politely remind you that you have so far seen only a fraction of my power, boy, and we can only hope you don’t give me cause to show you more of it.”
“Oh,” Keith says in a small voice.
“Mm.” Lord Shirogane’s gaze darkens. “Or perhaps you’d like to see more,” he says, leaning in, the scent of iron hard and wet between them. Keith stays silent, and the vampire’s nostrils flare in a slow inhale. “You do smell better than any of the other rats,” he says, and draws away. “ Far better, really.” This bit is more to himself than to Keith, and his tone is troubled.
Keith takes this crumb and tucks it away.
He stares down at the sheets, forcing himself into a picture of subservience, a willing, as Lord Shirogane had called it, pet . Is that what this vampire wants? Is that what might give Keith some leverage here, or at least some ground to stand on? He anticipated Lord Shirogane would delight in cruelty and sadistic mastery, in the taking of blood and life by force, but if Lord Shirogane is tired of the hunt...maybe he craves comfort, not cruelty.
At length, the vampire’s gaze and presence leaves him, and Keith can finally breathe again. This time, he doesn’t stay in the dark room or wait to call upon the dark servants. Instead, he flees to the sunny escape of the garden, eager to bury his honestly uncomfortably clean hands in some dirt.