#Dracyl Drabble

[hunterxxandxxhisxxpanther]

The “Fine Art” of Vampirism: Sucking (and we don’t mean blood...this time)

bass. my muse going deep (interpret as you want).

@thatdoodlebug​

“Hunter...” 

There is something about the way his nickname rolls off the other’s tongue in a specific drawling tone that has his nerves prickling because it is clearly dripping with a familiar want and desire that coils tightly low in his stomach as his own desire raise in agreement. His tongue darts out between his lips and he takes a slower breath to get a bit of a hold of himself. “Yes, Panther?” he returns seemingly all focused on what he’s doing which happens to be cleaning the latest ensnared rabbit which would no doubt make a great stew. But it’s not remotely where his mind is and he has a suspicion the other is very much aware of it.

“Hunter.” The emphasis on the repeat is enough to have him unable to resist a smile curving at the edges of his lips. He knows what that impatience signifies and knows that pushing much more might have a sight to behold for anyone who might show up to the castle. He’s pretty sure that neither Merle nor Rick want to walk in on them again. He’s not sure what time this would make but he can’t say as he’s too surprised. 

They tended to be very intense around each other and more often then not things spiraled into passions that spilled out. So he’d promised Rick that he’d try to be a little more contained these days. And he was trying. 

Success rate was...a work in progress. So he decides not to have the counter reset today and carefully sets the carcass aside so he can fully turn and face the other before there is a tonal shift. “Yes, Kitten?”  The look flashed tells him so much and he murmurs, “Lemme clean up and I’ll meet yer in th’ bedroom.”  “Arrive promptly if you do not mind, Hunter.” “Make it in under ten, promise.” He has an idea if he doesn’t the other will reappear and he’s sure everyone in the vicinity might get an eyeful. But that was the result heat and desire that rose between them, and it was a craving, needy thing which he still wasn’t sure there was control to be found or how one might go about doing that regardless. So until it was truly a problem then he’d do what Dixons were very good at: ignoring it all together. 

So he makes quick work, as promised, of cutting and storing the kill so that the meat could be used properly later and cleaned the table as well as he was sure that he doesn’t want to hear someone complain about lack of care or whatnot. He has more important things on his mind or at least a more important vampire. It’s with this in mind, he slips his boots off before slipping up the stairs lips curving into a smile brought easily at the other granting more of a bounce in his step as he heads for the chambers he’d chosen as his. Stepping into the room, he finds the other sitting on the edge of the bed leaning forwards showing his impatience. It draws a low chuckle from him as he shuts the door before twisting the lock. “You find me amusing do you?” 

“No, nothin’ like that,” he’s quick to assure, “‘M more pleased and delighted by th’ fact yer look like yer ‘bout ta launch from there like some caped missile.” 

“To be fair, I do blame you for my... lack of control these days. Or rationality. Or truly anything close to stoicism. You do make me very hungry, Hunter. So if you are done finding me a source of amusement, come here.” Daryl is still chuckling softly as he makes his way across to him. “So impatient. Would think yer were starvin’ or somethin’. Can’t really blame me fer...” The sentence is derailed rather violently by the sudden removal of his pants and boxers in a fashion that speaks to the other’s supernatural abilities and clear impatience with things. On the plus side at least these are spared being torn from him but only just as he’s fully aware due to the unfortunate demise of a few other clothing items.

However he can’t really worry too much when fingers drag him closer and he hears the impatient hiss that has him focusing on the other because it’s not usual that his partner is this pushy but the look leveled at him is something: dark and hungry. “D-damn, Kitten, what...” And again his voice trails off but this time it becomes a startled groan as he finds himself with the other shifting so that he he can lean and press his mouth over him without any warning. And the hard suck has him jerking forward. “Ahn!” His fingers find the other’s dark locks and tangle there. “Fuck....Oh...Yes, that’s...fuck...jus’ like that...” It’s not too long before there is the lewd sounds of the other sucking pressing close and Daryl’s head swims from the sheer intensity of it. His eyes close and his head lolls back as he draws him as close to his abdomen as he can get arching as the other sucks and curls his tongue as he seems to take him in exceptionally deep and swallows making him shake and the most desperate noises escape. 

His partner was very, very good with his mouth. Always had been. And seemed to just enjoy finding more and more ways of trying to remove Daryl’s soul with each encounter. As if it wasn’t already his to begin with. As if he had anything left to prove to Daryl in order to keep him. 

There was no where else and no one else Daryl would ever belong to but him alone. If it wasn’t bewitchment or enchantment then gods both above and below knew it was love. Had to be.

But introspection frays and tatters and vanishes in the skill of the others mouth, in the way he holds and presses and takes him apart in this way. It’s a powerful image, Daryl realizes as when his eyes open half-lidded and more silver than anything, even if the other thought it subservient. The vampire was a powerful sight on his knees like this. One of the most fantastic sights maybe bested, a little bit, by him splayed and shaking beneath him. His fingers thread and tighten. “T-Take m-me so well...f-fuck...wh-what a hungry Kitten yer are...Th-that’s it...sweetheart...get yer cream...”

The encouragement, not that it was truly needed considering there was enough desire between them to set the castle ablaze by it’s heat alone, still has lewder and wetter sounds escaping and it robs Daryl of his senses and coherent words. Instead it’s stuttered partial curses and arching and guttural sounds as the other works him up. 

And the payoff has him jerking him sharply against his groin with this sound; primal and desperate as he spills deep into the others throat. And it leaves him shaking and struggling to breathe properly as the other pulls off, mouth a mix of drool and bit of cum that can’t be contained and he looks so satisfied that Daryl cannot help shifting and pressing a kiss to his mouth tongue darting in and tasting the mix of his own semen and the other’s taste with a low rumbling sound before he finds himself shoving him to sprawl back on the bed. 

He nips his lower lip as he gazes in heady want. “L-like yer cream?”  The other licks his lips before giving him a satisfied grin. “You know I do have a...healthy appetite these days.”  Daryl finds himself giving a breathless laugh before he reaches and undoes his cape. “Well, if yer don’ wit’ yer treat then I want mine. ‘Cause now yer have me ravenous...”  “What a terrible fate,” comes the cheeky response, “but do please make sure to not let that get wrinkled. I do have an...image to uphold.”  Daryl gives a snort but he’s still careful with the familiar cape draping it over the nearby chair before he affixes the other. “Now, I think we have a date, Count Dracula, you and I.” 

“Oh, is that so, Hunter? Is the famed Van Helsing going to stake me as in days of old?”  Daryl shifts so that he’s straddled over him. “Oh, yer have no idea, sweet Kitten,” he breathes out, “Gonna make sure to do it hard an’ deep until yer well an’ truly put to rest.”  It draws a low pleased sound. “Sounds like a good time, sweet Hunter. So do your worst, Van Helsing...”