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darkshrimpemotions · 7 months ago

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My 300th Fic on AO3

I've been on 299 fics published to AO3 for weeks now. At first I was like "299 fics? Wow! That's a lot. That's very cool. I should make my 300th fic something really special." But then I got in my head about it, and nothing seemed good enough.

Then a plotbunny grabbed me by the ears today and shook me like a stubborn ketchup bottle.

So here it is, my 300th fic on AO3. A shamelessly indulgent little one-shot that I wrote for the pure fun of it, like god and our foremothers intended.

Also. Happy Fingers In My Mouth Friday. <3

Read on AO3

Nandor rises from the table, feeling full and satisfied and...happy? At peace? It is a new feeling for him, a warmth that seems to radiate from his center outward, a song echoing in his heart for hours now. A song with one perfect lyric on repeat.

Guillermo.

Guillermo is a vampire. Immortal. Powerful. And he is going to stay with him...them. He is going to live in the mansion with them all as an equal. He will be the last thing Nandor sees each morning and the first thing he sees each night.

Of course...Nandor hasn't actually had that conversation with him yet. To ask him to set up a coffin in Nandor's crypt. The very thought makes him nervous. But Guillermo has always liked his room! So maybe he will jump at the chance to move in. Maybe Nandor won't have to go any deeper than the simple offer. Maybe--

Nandor frowns, his anxious thoughts coming to a halt as his eyes land on the very much still-unbitten man he incapacitated for Guillermo to feed from. Where is Guillermo? He scans the room.

There. Nandor's heart sinks, that warmth in his chest flickering, guttering like an overspent candle. Guillermo is hovering at the edge of the room, hands pressed anxiously to the front of his sweater, one atop the other, eyes darting around the room with uncertainty and a dawning horror that makes Nandor's stomach clench.

He was afraid of this. It's an old fear. It was born the day, some years ago now, when he realized he actually wouldn't mind Guillermo sticking around forever…because he knew from the moment he saw him that this sweet, soft-spoken creature was not meant to survive by the deaths of others. Not due to weakness, no. Nandor has always seen plenty of strength beneath the soft exterior Guillermo projects. But it takes more than strength to make one suited to be a vampire. It takes a ruthlessness, a selfishness that few truly possess. And if Guillermo was going to have a choice, like so many did not–like Nandor himself did not–he would rather Guillermo be ready for the brutal reality of this life than be simply forced to adapt to it.

He has watched Guillermo over all these years, waiting and hoping for a glimpse of some killer instinct, a hungry glint in his eye. Something which would prove Nandor wrong. Something to give him hope.

He thought he saw it a few times. When Guillermo killed Carol, Simon's strange crew member, Nandor should have felt horror. But all he could muster at the time was a giddy excitement. His sweet, timid little familiar...a vampire killer! And at the theatre, chained down with silver and helpless, Nandor had watched as Guillermo tore through the room like a cyclone, and all he thought was yes, yes, yes.

Finally, here was one who could stand at Nandor's side through the ages, face an eternity of death without flinching. The shiver that had run through him at the look in Guillermo’s eyes when his bloody work was finished disconnected Nandor's brain for a moment. He was practically vibrating with excitement the whole way home. He ran ahead to "inspect" the cage--truly what he did was weaken the bars in a few key places--and put on a stern face as the others brought Guillermo down to lock him in.

The look Guillermo had given him then was all indignation and betrayal, but Nandor stood easily beneath the weight of it, shoulders back and head held high. He knew Guillermo would break free in a few hours, and the first place he would come would be to his traitorous master. He would open Nandor's coffin with glorious murder in his eyes, and Nandor would be ready. Ready to fight him, ready to kneel at his feet in the end and offer him what he always wanted: for Nandor to turn him into a vampire.

But then Guillermo had not come for him. Instead, he sat docile in his cage, day and night, declaring that they were his family and he would never hurt them. Trying to prove his loyalty through suffering and perseverance. Nandor's heart had broken, because how could Guillermo hope to live by death if he wouldn't strike out for his own sake? To save his own life?

Whatever fluttering hope Nandor had held onto died completely when Guillermo submitted to hypnosis rather than fight those who would enthrall him...only to come roaring back to life months later when he brought Nandor to his knees with a single practiced move, hissing in his ear that he was immune to hypnosis. He could have killed them all at any time, Nandor had realized. He simply chose not to. That was a different level of power.

It was the kind of power Nandor had known, once upon a time. When you were truly the strongest person in the room, you could afford to be magnanimous to those around you. Perhaps you were even obligated to be merciful. Like a father to his helpless children, sparing the rod not because you can, but because you hold all the power and therefore you must. At last , Nandor had thought then. At last at last at last .

He had not fallen to his knees at Guillermo’s feet, though they were weak enough at the sight of him in the glow of his victory that it would not have been merely for show if Nandor had. He stood tall and looked Guillermo in the eyes instead, and offered him eternity.

Guillermo had accepted with a smile that burrowed beneath Nandor's ribcage, taking up residence there without his permission. But fate had other plans for them, and Nandor once more felt his hope die as he waited on an empty platform for a man who never came.

That was the end of it, he thought. No more resurrections.

But then Guillermo went and got himself turned by someone else.

Nandor had been furious at first. Murderously angry in a way he hadn't felt since he was human, with a beating heart and flowing blood and a ticking clock at the back of his consciousness, counting down his time left on earth. It was harder to summon that kind of rage as a vampire. Everything was muted, far away, when you had forever to feel each feeling.

But he’d felt this like a man with a finite number to his days. His hands itched to do violence, irrevocable, bloody, total. And if there was hurt, lurking somewhere behind that red wall of rage? Nandor wasn't willing to look for it.

But as the days went by and the anger cooled, the hurt made itself known anyway. And as hurt turned to acceptance, a part of Nandor couldn't help but wonder why he was so upset in the first place. Hadn't he waited for this? For incontrovertible proof that Guillermo was ready and willing to take what he wanted? Hadn't he searched for it, over and over, grieving each time it failed to manifest fully?

And now here it was! Guillermo had taken what he wanted at last, found the limit of his patience and his loyalty and his affection. That pained him, of course it did. Nandor had grown to depend on those things, perhaps even taken them for granted. But even as he sat in his feelings of hurt and betrayal and (quietly simmering now) anger, one fact stubbornly refused to remain unacknowledged: Guillermo had stayed.

He had gotten what he wanted, and Nandor had not been the one to give it to him. But he had still stayed by Nandor's side, even though he had no reason to be there any longer and would truthfully be safer somewhere far away. He had gone to the movies with him. Egged him on into going to space and then walked home with him at the end of the night. Slept under the same roof. Slept, Nandor had realized later, inside a gift Nandor had given him. Woken him up, brushed his hair, held his hand as he alighted from his coffin each evening. Even when his life had been in peril, the Baron stalking him intent on murder, had Guillermo fled then? No. He had run to Nandor. Well, to his room, anyway. Crawled into his coffin and left his warmth and his scent within to torment Nandor later. All that night, as Nandor held one of his sweaters like a security blanket and contemplated a world without Guillermo in it, as Nandor faced that world in the form of a corpse lying horribly still in his lap as he wept...Guillermo was hiding safely away in Nandor's most intimate, most private space.

And what does it mean, that they both clutched at something of the other when they needed comfort? Nandor is not stupid, whatever he might allow people to think. He’s been well aware of the way Guillermo looks at him all these years. Nandor has heard the way his heart skips beats and gallops ahead of itself sometimes, on the rare occasions when Nandor allows Guillermo close. He's felt the way his own heart lurches in response, valiantly trying to beat again in answer to Guillermo’s unspoken want.

He knows why Guillermo stayed until he could not, why he withdrew the stake from Nandor's throat when Nandor stood there, ready to die. He knows how Guillermo, who was not even a full-fledged vampire yet, managed to instinctively hypnotize his own mother when she threatened Nandor's undefended back.

It isn't only in fairytales that love can create magic.

Love. He dared not to think of it before, but tonight? When Guillermo’s eyes flashed gold and his canines grew long and sharp between his lips? When he looked at Nandor with pure joy on his face, literally weightless with happiness and levitating three feet off the ground?

Nandor let himself feel it, finally. Love. Hope. Cautious joy. Guillermo was a vampire, and he was so excited. And he was powerful. Nandor couldn't believe how powerful he was within mere seconds of his transition. No fear. No horror. No need to teach him all the little things he could do now. He did them naturally, like he was made for this life.

This life with Nandor. By his side. Forever.

But all of that is crumbling in his mind's eye now as he watches Guillermo fret and flinch on the sidelines of the party he asked for, the life he asked for. Gone is his excitement. Gone is his simple, uncomplicated joy. The specter of an eternity without Guillermo looms in Nandor’s periphery once more, huge and dark and empty. Nandor won’t…no, he can't go back there.

There is a way, of course. Something he learned when he first realized he would turn Guillermo, if only Guillermo were ever to be truly ready. The intricacies of the bond between a sire and their sireling are fascinating, truly. Not quite the simple life-and-death ultimatum he and his friends once thought. They open a path forward now, a way to give Guillermo another chance. A do-over. And oh, Nandor would enjoy at least part of it. He might have forgiven Guillermo, but he will never forgive the vampire who sired him instead of Nandor. Watching Guillermo drive a stake through that vampire's heart would be healing in a way, even as it killed a dream Nandor has only just allowed himself to want.

But he has held Guillermo’s cold, gray corpse in his arms. He has felt the desolation of a world where Guillermo no longer exists, albeit briefly. He cannot do it again. Not now, not decades from now. Never. He would rather walk into the sun. He probably will, if that day ever comes to pass.

So he does what he can live with instead. Crossing the room in a few long strides, Nandor backs Guillermo into the restaurant wall, pinning him there with his body and smothering the man's yelp of surprise with his own still-bloody mouth.

The way Guillermo melts into him immediately is beautiful, intoxicating. It surprises a groan out of Nandor that vibrates through the lips on his to echo in Guillermo’s chest, a feedback loop of desire and a relief so sharp it's almost painful. Guillermo is clutching at him with both hands, pulling him closer, and it's almost enough to make Nandor forget why he came over here in the first place.

Almost.

He draws back from their kiss with a reluctant sigh and can't help but smile at the little whine of protest from Guillermo’s throat, the way he tries to chase Nandor's lips with his own. Nandor holds him back, admiring his wide eyes and disheveled hair, the way the blood from Nandor's lips is now smeared across Guillermo’s own.

"My beautiful little creature of the night," Nandor purrs. "You are having trouble with the feeding." It isn't a question, and Guillermo ducks his head in shame.

"I..." his voice chokes off. Nandor can't have that, his Guillermo crying. He tilts that chin up with one hand, forcing Guillermo to meet his eyes.

"It is okay, Guillermo," he reassures him, soft and sincere in a way he rarely allows himself to be. "It can be difficult at first. Come with me. I will fix."

Guillermo shakes his head, but he doesn't resist when Nandor pulls him across the room, back to where the man Nandor selected for him is still slumped over, unconscious.

"Now," Nandor says, his hands steady on Guillermo’s shoulders. "Tell me what stops you."

"I..." Guillermo is tense under Nandor's touch, but he doesn’t pull away. "It's just...I lean in, and I smell his blood, but...over that, there's...other stuff."

"Mmm," Nandor hums, thoughtful. "And this other stuff...it stops you? It smells bad, or--"

"His shampoo," Guillermo interrupts, barely above a whisper. "I smell his shampoo and I think, this guy was just at CVS, browsing for shampoo, and maybe he picked this one because the smell reminds him of camping as a kid, and I can't...that's just a person , Nandor. I can't kill him."

Nandor's hands clench involuntarily on Guillermo’s shoulders as his heart sinks further. This. This is what he was afraid of. His worst fears are being realized.

But he can fix it. He can still fix it. He leans more heavily into Guillermo’s back, ducking down so his lips are right next to Guillermo’s ear.

"And all the vampires you've killed? Did they not have memories, and lives, and...shampoo? That did not stop you." If his voice is a little harsh, it can't be helped. "And what of all the victims you lured to our home over the years? Were they not people? Did they not also use the shampoo?"

"That's different," Guillermo almost sighs, leaning into Nandor even as he sounds like he wants to cry again.

"How is it different?" Nandor demands.

"I did all of that for you," Guillermo says.

And Nandor....well.

What does Nandor even say to that?

He spins Guillermo around, holding him by the arms and searching his eyes. They're shining with tears of shame and regret, but they meet Nandor's and hold there.

"It's so easy," Guillermo breathes. "To turn off everything else. The guilt, the fear. Regret. All of it. It's so fucking easy when I'm doing it for you."

If Nandor's heart still beat, it would break free of his chest at those words.

"And what of you?” he asks. “Why are you not reason enough?" Guillermo just looks at him, stricken. He has no answer.

"Fine," Nandor says at last. He guides Guillermo to one of the empty seats at the small table, and settles himself into another.

"I will do this for you," Nandor says. "And you? Will do it for me."

"What--" Guillermo starts to ask, but his question dies as Nandor leans in and pierces the throat of the unfortunate man with the awful shampoo.

It is a very well-placed bite, if Nandor does say so himself. Right on the front of the neck--a difficult spot to get to!--and not so deep as to cause a giant mess. The blood wells slowly from the shallow punctures, pooling in the hollow of the dying man's throat. Nandor must have hit him quite hard over the head, because he doesn't stir, not even when his breathing takes on a slightly wet, gurgling quality.

Guillermo stares at the man with mingled horror and pity, and Nandor can't have that. He cannot let Guillermo get lost in the reality of this meaningless human’s fate. He takes Guillermo’s chin in one hand, pulling his gaze back where it belongs. With the other, he dips two fingers in the growing pool of rich, red blood.

"Open your mouth," he orders. Guillermo's eyes go wide, but somewhat to Nandor's surprise, he does as he's told without hesitation.

Nandor slips his bloody fingers between Guillermo’s lips, bracing himself for Guillermo to fight him, to pull away. He doesn’t. He stays still, letting Nandor do what he wants, his eyes never wavering from Nandor’s own.

Nandor sees the moment when the taste hits his tongue.

"Mmmf," Guillermo manages, his lips closing instinctively as he sucks and licks the blood from Nandor's fingers. The little moan of contentment he lets out is more felt than heard.

Nandor is transfixed. He has never seen Guillermo like this, but his mind readily supplies other scenarios where Guillermo might look up at him thus. He feels dizzy. If he needed to breathe he’d be in real trouble, because he is pretty sure he’s forgotten how.

Nandor withdraws reluctantly at last only to coat his fingers in more blood--the pool now overflowing to drip sluggishly down the man's neck and onto the table. He brings his fingers back to Guillermo's lips and can't hold in a little moan of his own at the way Guillermo eagerly takes them in, looking up at Nandor from under his eyelashes as he accepts this offering, his hands coming up to hold Nandor's hand in place by the wrist. His mouth is warm and wet, his tongue gentle and clever as it circles Nandor's fingers, chasing the taste of blood. His teeth graze Nandor's knuckles as he sucks, hard, and Nandor thinks he might die right there. Crumble to dust with his hand trapped in the mouth of his only natural predator. He wishes he could fit all of himself inside that mouth, hide there in the darkness, surrounded by Guillermo, consumed by him.

This was only meant to feed Guillermo, to help get him past the worst of this unfortunate eleventh-hour respect for human life, but it is quickly morphing into something entirely out of Nandor's control. He's half-hard already, after barely more than a minute of watching Guillermo take in his fingers with his mouth like he's just been waiting to do it, waiting for Nandor to offer. His expression as he savors the blood Nandor is feeding him is beatific, practically glowing. Nandor himself might be having a religious experience for the first time in seven hundred years.

He withdraws again for more blood, watching the emotions play across Guillermo’s pretty face as he does so. He feels dizzy, aching with want for the man sitting so close to him. Especially when Guillermo pauses to kiss the tips of his blood-covered fingers before taking them in again, slowly this time, savoring.

"Guillermo," Nandor manages to choke out. When did he lose control of this situation? Did he ever have it to begin with? "Please." He doesn't even know what he's begging for.

But Guillermo must know, because he releases Nandor's fingers with an obscene, wet pop before abandoning his chair to crawl into Nandor's lap. The chair groans beneath their combined weight, but Nandor barely notices. He's too busy getting his hands underneath all those frustrating layers Guillermo wears, too busy tasting the blood on his tongue, too busy reeling from the heady feeling of being at Guillermo’s mercy, body and whatever passes for a vampire's soul.

The corpse next to them--the man is certainly dead now, his gurgling breaths having ceased all together--is cooling, all that remaining blood going to waste. But neither of them notice, far too caught up in the taste, smell, and feel of each other, and the memory they're making.

Someday, Nandor thinks hazily as Guillermo undoes the fastenings holding his robe together with practiced movements, we will look back on this and laugh. Someday far, far in the future .

And if Nandor has to feed Guillermo like this for all that time? So be it.

#wwdits #nandermo #fimmf #fingers in my mouth friday #fanfiction #my writing

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