Work Text:
While you’re having your moon, lock your doors, lock your windows, and don’t let anybody in.
You had heard this when you had first come to the abbey and several times since. It was among the other whispered rumors by your fellow siblings of sin:
‘Why do you think there’s a blood sacrifice every other full moon?’
‘Why do you think black mass happens at dusk?’
‘Have you ever done research into what a ghoul really is?’
‘Why do you think the Papas are so alluring, so vital, at their ages?’
You weren’t an idiot; you knew the answer. Vampires. Each Emeritus was gifted with life eternal at the price of bloodlust. At times you felt like a sheep in the slaughterhouse, terrified that you may be next to fulfil their dark need, that you would be the one hung by your feet over the altar, blood slowly dripping into the stone bowl beneath you. But it never once was, despite the hungry eyes you’ve caught locked onto your pulse point. It was never your siblings of sin, never a member of the church. It was always an outsider, a heretic, who seemed more than willing (maybe too willing), to be drained in the name of Satan as the congregation repeated La Mantra Mori over and over until nothing but a dry corpse was left.
Maybe you remained here out of fear. Maybe it was something else. However, the upper clergy always took care of you and your needs and returning to the hellhole of your old life was not an option. So here you stayed, locking your doors and windows month after month. A bit of fear is a small price to pay to remain safely enfolded in the leathery wings of your gracious Papas and the home they built for you and your siblings.
You avoided mass that evening when, during the day, you had felt the first familiar and painful twinge in your core, rushed to the restroom to check yourself, and found a dark red stain in your panties. You’d asked for the rest of the day off, the first day was always the worst; you felt like crawling into a blanket and hiding from the world, and that’s exactly what you did.
Soon enough evening fell, and you, foolish you, didn’t lock your door.
You woke up from a nap when you heard that very door creak open, the rustle of fabric, and the soft click of the lock. You knew one of them was there and a bolt of fear shot through you. You couldn’t see him, but you know he’s there. Or at least one of them was... Which one of them was, you had no idea. You brought your legs up to your chest protectively.
“H-hello?” You called into the dark.
“Sorella…” Came the soft hiss from the corner. You recognized the voice. It’s Primo, and he’d come for you. Drawn in by your blood, and somehow, you’re relieved. Out of the four of them, the second oldest vampire in the current Emeritus line, calm and mature was there. Who better to drink from you?
“I thought your kind had to be invited in.” It’s a half-joke to ease the tension you felt building.
“Does one need an invitation into their own home?” The floor creaked as he took a step closer to you.
“I suppose not… And that’s why-“
“You lock your doors and windows. Lest the vampires come crawling in to feed.” He cut you off with an amused chuff.
“And you plan on feeding off of me. ”
“When your body is offering its blood to me so willingly, how can I refuse?” He finally stood in the beam of moonlight that lanced across your room. The pallor of his skin and his bone-white eye seemed to glimmer like rare gems and you were entranced. How could you refuse?
“Will it hurt?” You asked quietly as Primo slid onto the bed.
He tutted softly, “I won’t be biting you, sorella. You are already bleeding.” Your face heated up at the implication of what he would do instead, “Menses is some of the cleanest blood in the body, meant to nourish a growing life. But instead of a child, it will nourish me. And I imagine the process of me licking it from your cunt will be very pleasurable for the both of us.” You had never heard him use such coarse language before, but it left a tingle of excitement in your belly alongside the cramping, “Now please, sorella…” He trailed his hand up your outer thigh to rest atop your folded knees, “Let me taste you.”
As if under a spell, your legs slowly fell apart for him. Every inch of inner thigh you exposed was met with a delicate kiss, lower and lower to your heat until he was on you.
It was heaven. The light graze of his fangs on the juncture of your thighs and pelvis and you were gone; it was merely a split second of stinging pain as he briefly broke your skin to inject you with intoxicating venom. Everything bloomed into ecstasy as it hit your bloodstream. You could get addicted to this feeling.
Then he finally pressed his tongue into you with the deeply satisfied moan of a man who had gone days without eating tasting his first bite of a meal. Your voice joined his in harmony, body squirming and twitching as he fed from what was so freely given.
Why would anyone have tried to prevent this? This unholy passion?
You could hear the creak of your mattress as he shifted further onto the bed, grinding himself into the mattress for some relief for his straining erection. He wanted you, and you hoped it wasn’t just because of the blood.
And that thought is what sent you into your first orgasm: the idea that Primo wanted you beyond the instinct to feed.
The venom threw you farther into the stratosphere than you’ve ever reached with orgasm before. Your thighs squeezed his head as they shook. And the sweet pitiful noises you made… They would have made Asmodeus blush, certainly.
As you tried to wriggle and squirm your sensitive body away from his mouth in the wake of orgasm, he only gripped your hips tighter in his gloved hands, refusing to let up until all of your fluid had been lapped up.
“Primo- please…” You whined softly, and only at your begging did the vampire look up from his place between your legs. The paint was completely smeared around the bottom of his face along with your blood, the sight made your pussy clench around nothing. You needed him inside you, you realized.
The white eye burned into you as he asked, “Please what ?” He already knew. Primo just wanted to hear you say it.
“Fuck me. Please, Papa. I need your cock inside me so bad.”
He grinned, his fangs, once pearls, now stained with red shimmered under the moonlight, “Well, now that you’ve invited me in.~” He teased, hiking up his robes and freeing himself from his pants. You turned your gaze away. It felt like the respectful thing to do, but he grabbed your face and made you look.
“Sorella, you turn such lovely shades when you blush in this way. It tempts me.” As he spoke he ground himself against you, slipping through your blood and slick, clearly relishing your expression as he rubbed over the more sensitive parts of you.
You twisted your hips, trying to maneuver him so he’d enter you, and he must have taken pity on your flailing, because he finally began guiding himself into your body. Primo hissed at the warmth of your body and he muttered, “Forgive me, I cannot help myself. You feel far too heavenly.” Then proceeded to pound into you ruthlessly, making you yelp and jolt. It’s all you could do to hook your legs around his waist and hold on for dear life. Though, you thought, this wouldn’t be a bad way to die.
And not a moment too late either, his mouth was dangerously close to your neck. Primo wanted to bite you, drink you, fill you with venom and seed. But he must have realized this, because he turned his head and sank his fangs into the pillow near your head to resist the temptation to begin draining you.
So he does see you as more than food.
Primo was relentless, and you felt completely out of your mind as your second orgasm crept to you. And you did try to warn him to be fair. But it was too late, you were already squeezing around him in those delicious short pulses. He snarled from his place in the pillow, hips stuttering as he reached his peak as well.
You groaned at the loss of him when he pulled out.
“You’ve made a mess of me, Sorella. And I of you. Are you satisfied?” Primo asked in an even, seemingly unaffected tone.
“Are you?” You asked him in return, pulling your nightgown back down to cover yourself.
“Very much so. Blood is sweeter when it’s taken from the willing. Or maybe that’s just you.” He reached out and pushed some hair out of your face, betraying his fondness.
You found yourself nuzzling into his palm, “Will you come back? This does last another seven days, you know.”
Primo chuckles at that, you looked so sweet under him like this, “I’ve drunk my fill for the month. We do not feed often, but I will return to you if that’s what you desire. But you must promise to continue to lock the doors and windows, the others might get ideas, and I am a selfish man. I will knock next time.”
Next time . That sent a thrill through you. Next time held many promises and all the weight of the world. Primo meant it.
And then, after a soft parting kiss to your forehead, Primo went the way he came, black robes billowing behind him like the wings of a great, dark bat.