#also pls dont @ me abt the dutch ksjhshdsnsdkk

[assomoir]

moment’s silence; common tongue

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Pairing: Theodorus van Gogh x MC Summary: Theo spoils her rotten, but she wants to return the favor tonight. Note: The biggest MOST HEARTFELT thanks to @dear-mrs-otome for betaing this fic!! this is for u mrs o ily thank you for tolerating me crying about theo 24/7 and being such an enabler <3 Title taken from hozier’s song of the same name, bc who else can describe bj in graphic details as beautifully as he can. You can also find this fic on AO3. N S F W below the cut.

There’s the rustle of clothes as her nightgown hits the floor, followed by the creak of hardwood as she starts crawling to him; a slight, deliberate sway to her hips. Look at me, she demands of him, and he’s helpless not to obey.

(As if he could ever take his eyes off of her. As if he could stop himself from admiring how even in the brisk darkness of midnight, the moonlight spilling from his window kindly paints her in muted colors, like a masterpiece brought to flesh.)

“Theo,” she calls, her hopeful eyes belying the sinful nature of her actions, “let me?”

(As if he could ever say no.)

Intense blue eyes linger on the way she leaves a trail of wet, sloppy kisses all over his length, seemingly keen on destroying every last shred of his already fraying self-control. Watch with rapt attention as she curls her tongue over its head before sliding it down along the base as far as she can, taking him into her mouth. He painstakingly restrains his hips from bucking, fingers pressing deep crescents into the mattress he’s sitting on.

She takes a deep breath and slides further down until his cock is dragging harshly against the back of her throat. Hollowing her cheeks, sucking him and bobbing her pretty head up and down. Again, and again, gaining tempo as she gets bolder, until she is choking, gagging— and he suddenly pulls her head back, forcing her to release him with a loud pop that makes him shiver .

Strings of saliva between them glisten in the dark, and it takes him a moment to find his voice again.

“Are you okay?”

“Very,” she rasps, “I want more.”

He’s stroking her chin – smearing the wetness gathered there – when she catches a finger in her mouth and starts sucking soundly. Defiantly telling him she wants, needs, more. He rewards her eagerness with a kiss, replacing his finger with his tongue, drawing her into a leisurely foxtrot he’s leading her on. Coaxing impatient moans that douse them both with liquid heat.

When she peers from behind her lashes, his desperate countenance – marked harsher by the fangs protruding from his jaw – is a sharp contrast to the way his hands gently cradle her burning face and the questioning gaze in his eyes.

“You’ve always been so good to me,” she bends down once again to leave kitten licks on his impossibly hard length, mouthing wetly at the salt and musk that fill her senses, “I— I want to please you tonight.”

Without waiting for an answer, she slowly takes him again. The weight of his arousal inside her mouth satisfies a certain ache inside her chest – one that has been nagging her since day one, when she realized how generously endowed her lover was. Or perhaps she’s only doing this because she just wants him to lose control; to treat her like something made for his own pleasure for once. It’s somewhat sweet, she thinks in her dazed state, how someone so rough and dominating finds release in pleasuring her to exhaustion.

But she wants to return the favor tonight.

She hears him takes a deep breath before murmuring: “Are you sure?”

She knows, God she knows what he’s asking. From the tone of his voice, from the way his hand starts stroking her hair – seconds away from grabbing a handful of it, should she let him – she knows how loaded that question is. She nods in affirmation and moans for a good measure; wanting him to feel every breath, every quiver that stutters out of her throat.

The effect is near-immediate: Theo stands up – choking her in his movement – and tugs her hair harshly as he slides his cock further into her mouth, and she’s once again drowning in him. She revels in his low groan, at how the tip of her nose almost brushes against the patch of fiery hair on his belly, before he finally starts fucking her mouth like she wants him to.

“Do you— ah, think about this often, hondje? ” he asks, hips thrusting in a languid pace. Unhurried. Trying to see how much she will be able to take. The question earns him a muffled moan that vibrates around his cock, and he knows it needs to happen again.

His thrust grows impatient after a while, pushing deeper, more frantic, more desperate, but this time he doesn’t stop even when she starts choking from the intensity of it all.

“I’m going to come,” he warns, the stutter of his hips tells her how close he is. But she just grips his cock and starts sliding her fist along his shaft as her mouth works faster, eager to bring him over the edge. When he comes, his back arches, pushing his length further down her throat – but she happily, contentedly, swallows all that he’s willing to give.

Her throat is so sore she’d probably speak with a rasp for the next several days, her jaw is aching, and spit is running down her chin.  But she’s still so turned on.

Theo obviously knows that, she thinks, because then he kisses her forehead and just throws her naked form down onto the bed. Their eyes meet for one long second before he leans down and sucks at the mound of her breast, a hand teasing the other one. The slow, calculated suckling and caress sets her head spinning so much that she eventually tries to stifle the sounds escaping from her mouth. At this, he looks up, releasing the reddened bud with an unamused look on his face.

“I want to hear you.”

“But wh—”

She doesn’t get to finish as he roughly pinches her already sensitive nipple, the responding cry swallowing up the rest of her sentence. When she feels the sharp twitch of his cock, half her mind somewhere far away thinks that maybe, maybe, he does want the other men to hear.

“You’ve been so bold tonight,” the smirk returns to his face, “let me see more of that.”

“Theo,” she whimpers, because the other half of her lust-addled brain is still quite mortified at the idea of being heard by the rest of the residents, “just— just kiss me? Please?”

At this very moment, he’s willing to bet the entirety of his reputation that not a single man in this damned world would be able to resist that. The way her eyes gloss over with pleasure, the little tremble of her legs, the gorgeous disarray that is her hair— how can he look at something so beautiful and not want to be the cause of it forever? He swallows a quip about rewarding a well-trained dog and kisses her instead. Firm, but not enough to muffle the sounds she makes. Can’t help but smile when her moans tell him that this isn’t enough.

“Godverdomme,” he murmurs into the kiss, sending a rush of electricity down her spine, “you have no idea what you do to me.”

But she does, for Theo’s touch on her skin is nothing less than pure worship. He spreads her legs open and slowly slides one, then two fingers into her dripping core. Curling, coaxing, moving in and out; slowly at first, his thumb kneading the sensitive flesh above it. Reveling in every facial expression she makes. Savoring the sensual staccato of cries pulled from her lips as he teases her.

The sight leaves his mouth dry, and his fangs are itching to sink themselves in her.

“You— you can, bite me, you know,” she suddenly tells him between moans, somehow noticing the bloodlust boiling just below the surface of his skin. He gives her a particularly rough thrust for that, and her words become feverish. “I t— told you, you don’t need to– ahh, wait for p— permission…”

“…Is that so.”

The death of me, he muses, hooking her legs over his shoulders. Theo bends down to lick a spot on her thigh, and while she’s distracted by the fingers fucking her with a punishing pace— bites. The warm liquid filling his mouth tastes so sweet, almost as sweet as the sensation of her walls clenching impossibly tight around his fingers, or the way her body trembles as climax overcomes her; the first of many to come that night.

(He, too, feels as if he could come from the sight alone.)

They lay breathless for a while, bodies slick and spent basking in the afterglow. She closes her eyes and lets his gaze wander upon her: sated, contented, and undeniably his. The quiet of the night and the lazy lines he traces on the delicate arch of her waist nearly lull her to sleep— that is, until he pinches her cheek with an amused smile that sobers her right away.

“Hondje. You already please me as you are.”

“….oh!”

It takes a moment for her earlier words to flood her memories again, and when they do she buries her flushed face into his chest, still rumbling with laughter. He holds her tight, so tight that the frantic thrumming of her heartbeat is mirrored vividly against his own.

“Hey. Don’t think I’m done with you yet,” he warns, a cocky grin plastered in place. She squeals his name and bursts into a peal of delighted giggles, face alight with such joy Theo feels like he’s falling in love with the sun.

The absolute death of me, he quietly thinks, and fully believes in.