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millersfinest · 2 months ago

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little death | c.k

part one

fledgling vampire!caitlyn kiramman & old vampire!reader

wc: 4k

blurb: her longing spirit was the very thing to draw you to her—come to me, come to me. after many years alone, you’d found a companion worthy enough to be yours. but creating a vampire of your own is not easy. even if you are consistently stricken by her delicate beauty and form. the prettiest of birds could still be a thorn in your side.

warnings: MDNI, descriptions of blood, vampirism, lestat coded reader, louis coded cait, cannibalistic themes (ish), eroticism (surrounding vampirism), eventual s m u t, a little toxic, slight manipulation, use of pet names, anne rice vampires.

note: i was watching interview with the vampire (the movie, but i have seen the show) and i immediately got inspired, especially since halloween is so close. please, enjoy the expression of my love for vampires. (btw this will be a two part series).

⋆·˚ ༘ *

The sweetness of her scent has lured you onto the damp cobblestones of England. Her racing thoughts breadcrumbed you to follow her path down dark streets that were haunted by whores and pickpockets.

It wasn’t like her to be in the slums of the city—that wasn’t where she was from. No, she was from the higher points of society. Where the sun cascaded through her large windows every morning. Maids infiltrated her sleeping quarters with different gown options at the break of dawn; handmaidens offering to primp and prime her for the day.

Yet, there she was, slipping through the worst parts of London. And what for? You wondered, lingering in the dark amongst the worldly sin that acted as a decoy for your damned persona.

The fair-skinned woman, hiding under a top-hat, ducked into a structure that resembled any other tenement on the street. But when the heavy mahogany door wailed from its hinges, you caught a whiff of perspiring human bodies—in other words, sex. It was pungent, hard to miss.

You frowned from the shadows, listening to the repeating voices in her mind. One last time— this is my last time. Before my hand belongs to someone else… Her thoughts began to drown out by silence, frustrating you.

It wasn’t often that you found yourself obsessed with struggling mortals. Perhaps, her beauty commanded you to watch over her, like the angel of darkness that you are. Looming over her, predatorily, profusely, passionately.

The apparition of your figure appeared on the balcony of the room she rented for the night. Forcefully, you swung the french double doors open, short heels clicking against the floor as you entered. A woman caked in makeup laid atop of your object of desire; with her hands shoved into her expensive trousers of pretend.

The whorish woman flinched at your entrance, meeting your haunting gaze. Her breasts heaving through the binds of her satiny corset. Fright radiating from her olive-toned skin. From the crevice of her shoulder, the woman who entranced your immortal being, peered. The coolness of her blue eyes pierced through you. Come to me. Or was that your obsession talking?

“You…” She muttered under her breath, nearly forgetting about the woman atop of her, straddling her.

Your steps were menacingly slow, approaching the bed bound by four wooden poles. The bedroom was grand for a whorehouse. The pace of your steps quickened fast enough to be missed by a mortal's eyes. The whore appeared in your arms, rather than on the lap of the high-born woman.

Her back was firm against the front of your body, unblemished fingers running along the plushness of her rouged lips, down her jaw; then, down the cleavage of her breasts. Drawing a small droplet of blood from the puncture of your sharp fingernail.

“This is what interests you, my love?” You pull her head to the side, revealing the artery that you’ve adored for centuries. The paleness of your irises latching onto hers, hungrily.

The woman in your arms whimpered, but you were a gentle feeder. Your touch is what calmed your prey—it was a gift. Every vampire was born with one. “Shh, little dove…” You hummed in her ear, licking the skin of cartilage. “Your time has come.” The sharpness of your teeth scraped at her skin.

Your obsession leaped from the bed, with her hands in front of her. “Stop it— don’t hurt her!” She exclaimed, wearily. She shared the same fear as the woman in your arm had. “It’s me that you want… Right? You can have me… I’m all yours, just— just let her go.”

She knew of you. The memories that sequestered in the depths of her mind began to paint a picture in yours. The imagery of your figure was shown to you at a ball. Waltzing with the many men that wrote their names on your calling card. You remember that night, vividly. Because that’s when you first saw her—Caitlyn.

Dressed in a shimmering frock that wasn’t modest in the slightest, but had enough coverage to not be mistaken for a woman of the night. Her parents were debuting her, announcing to the ton that she was ready to be married.

Oh, she was beautiful that night. And every night after. Once you caught her nectarine scent, she was all yours indeed.

“I have quite the appetite…” You feigned thought, looking between her and the woman in your arms. “I’ll have you both.” The sharpness of your teeth penetrated her soft skin. Her hand tried to claw at you, but she was no match for your strength. You were sucking the life out of her, quite literally.

Her life source wasn’t as sweet as you had wished—nothing could imitate your truest craving. It had a tartness to its flavor. There must’ve been too much alcohol or drugs in her system. Either way, it’s been days since you had your last meal—your flesh called for fresh, warm blood. So, you drowned in her.

Lowering her body to the ground as you inhaled the last bits of her. Pulled by the confines of your species, you didn’t notice that Caitlyn procured herself a bow and arrow. Tip sharp with authentic silver—where did she find that?

Your eyes glowered at her from over the whores’ fallen body. Lips stained, dribbling with the remnants of her blood. Sharp teeth tainted like they have been many times before. “I’ve heard the stories about you, night witch.” You licked your lips, slowly standing to your feet.

Caitlyn had pulled the string taut, ready to send that arrow flying toward your heart. “You have been following me— stalking me for a fortnight! I want nothing to do with your… Darkness.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, pouting your stained lips. “My… Darkness?” The woman’s blood had slipped down your chin, down the valley of your deep crimson gown. “I only come to those who call to me.”

Defeating the laws of humanity, you appear behind her, flinging the bow and arrow from her grips. Your other pressed her body against yours with unencumbered strength. “Your thoughts called out to me— needed, wanted me. Here I am and you’re trying to entrap me…?” Caitlyn fought against you, but to no avail. The side of your face pressed into hers, inhaling her sweetness. Releasing a sigh of pleasure from its potency.

“I ought to punish you…” She whimpered, feeling the sharpness of your teeth on her skin. Your tongue licks the side of her neck, sensually. Hovering your lips over her ear, you whisper. “However, the plans that I have for you don’t include punishment.” You spin her body around to face you completely. Her body is frozen in paralysis—letting you move her as you pleased. As if she were compelled under your strong gaze. “Only gifts. Many, many gifts.”

Her bright eyes were wide, taking in your features, with arms loosely draped at her sides—limp. “Your beauty will not be taken for granted…” You mutter, gently caressing the skin of her cheeks.

“Are you going to kill me…?”

“Oh, sweet, sweet love…” You pushed pieces of her hair from her face. “Not in the way that you think.” Leaning your face into the crevice of her neck, you nick her skin. A droplet of her blood blossoms over your tongue.

With that, you disappear from her body. Leaving the whispers of a pleasured moan behind. Caitlyn wavered like a lonely, thorned rose. She wanted to scream for help, but drawing attention to her whereabouts was not what she could afford. So, she crawled down the vines that grew up the walls of the brothel, leaping into a prickly bush. She left nothing of hers behind, but a kiss on the woman’s cheek who was fallen on the floor.

It was true that she had called out to you. The stories of dark angels burdening mortals with eternal life—or eternal suffering—was in the storybooks she read as a child. Now, easing into her adulthood. Responsibilities were beginning to strike her. Caitlyn was due to become a wife of a Lord, despite her insignificant wishes.

She complained in her mind for weeks before you showed your face to her, at the ball. When she saw you twirling hand-in-hand with dapperly dressed men, she knew you’d come to pull her from her misery. But her fear remained encompassed in her muscles. Which is why under her long coat, she armed herself with a bow.

Even though she couldn’t bring herself to thrum the string.

The next time your eyes fell on the beautiful Lady, it was the celebration of her wedding. Her family had thrown a ball, and unbeknownst to your immortal being, you received an invitation. In the eyes of most society, you were only an esteemed woman. If people knew about your bloody habits, it’s because you let them. In turn, meaning that they were not going to be alive for much longer. Humans could barely hold water, let alone a secret as important as vampirism.

Your beloved Caitlyn had said her vows to a man riddled with money. She was to be set for life—and her children.

When her solemn sapphire irises found you by the lemonade table, without a drink in your hand, speaking to one of the overbearing mamas of the ton, she froze. Her slender fingers were intertwined with her father’s, trying to waltz away from her fate. Inadvertently, she called out to you, again. Unsure of what that really meant for her.

The last time you seen each other, you admitted that you were planning to kill her. In truth, that left her frightened for days. She hadn’t slept soundly since that night. However, the thought that plagued her mind was if death would be better than marriage. Caitlyn never took kindly to the men of the ton, or any man for that matter. Yet, here she was, married to one.

The last step was consummation—and that was something she absolutely refused!

Patiently, you waited for the perfect time to sequester her. To narrow in on your beautiful prey; to cage her in your arms, and pull the life from her eyes just enough to give her a brand new opportunity.

It was in her final moments alone. In her chambers, dressed in a translucent cream sleeping gown. Her long indigo strands fell down her back in waves, front pieces pushed behind her ears. She was due to her husband soon, but her fingers trembled above her vanity.

When she felt your aged presence infiltrate her bedroom, her posture stiffened. But there was a sense of relief. “You have finally come to take me…” Caitlyn muttered, hopelessly. Her eyes caught the reflection of you wandering around her room. Fingers trailing over her trinkets and paintings on the wall. “What took you so long?”

Your eyes shot to hers through the mirror, as she didn’t risk facing you just yet. “Are you admitting to wanting my kiss of death, beloved?” Scaling her mind, you sifted through her anxious thoughts. The tall woman turned toward you, achingly.

“You promised to kill me… But not in the way that I would think. What does that mean?”

Instead of directly answering her question, you slightly divert. “How does a woman from a large, well-known family become so small?” You pace around her chamber, with sickeningly slow steps. The trail of your mahogany gown dragging along the wooden panels of the floor. “For weeks, your thoughts had been calling out to me for some resolution. That is what I’m offering to you… Resolution. Absolution.”

Caitlyn stood to her feet, clad in thin slippers. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt drawn to you. The softness of your speech was alluring—comforting in the face of death. You held out a delicate hand toward her. Fingers cold, remnant of what you were, beckoning her forward. She slid her hand into yours, reaching for you while her body still took the time to catch up. “Let me release you, Caitlyn, from the shackles of propriety and fabrication… And everything you don’t desire carnally.”

Slowly, she blinks, under the spell of your ancient beauty. Your hand creeps up from her hand, up her arm, finding solace in the crevice of her neck. Pulling her close, her sapphires bore into yours.

Time stops with her in your arms. Your beloved Caitlyn, finally succumbing to you just like you knew that she would. “You’ll never have to see him again… Unless you want to. By then he’d be eons beneath you.” She leaned into your hand, looking at you with doe eyes. You hover your lips over hers, breathing in the last moments of her humanity. “This is only a little death.”

She pushes forward, subtly, with wanting for your lips to touch. They only brush each other because you pull back. “I’ve only heard your thoughts— tell me you want absolution. Tell me you want me.”

Her hand trailed up your forearm, holding your wrist for support. The thumb of her hand caressing your skin. “I want you.” Her voice barely skipped over a whisper, pulling her body closer to yours. “I want absolution. I want you.” Caitlyn chanted, breathily.

Pressing your lips against hers, she fell victim to you. Whining against your lips as if this was something she had always wanted. The taste of sweetened lemons and cinnamon danced over your tongue. Bracing your arm against her back, your feet lift from the floor. Lips trailing down her jaw, leaving wet kisses against the skin you were preparing to puncture with your teeth. Her arms wrapped around your neck, unaware of the hovering of your bodies. Still, chanting the words you wanted to hear.

A whimper left her rouge-stained lips when you bit into her jugular. Clenching the roots of your hair. Vermilion liquid slipped from the corners of your mouth as you fed on her bodily energy. You had to drain her to the near brink of death, but her flavor was so intoxicating. You were beginning to wonder if you could willingly stop.

After all, you weren’t the most controlled vampire.

Groaning against her skin, you tightened your grip. Her hands began to loosen in your hair, arms falling limb to her sides. Taking everything in you, whipping your head up, you stopped yourself. Caitlyn’s eyes had rolled to the back of her head, but she was still there. Head nodding in a state that she wouldn’t survive in for long.

Gently, you lay her down on her bed, pushing her hair from her face. “Only a little death.” You repeat, biting into your wrist to share your gift. Living her head, you press your wrist to her drying lips. “Drink, my love. Drink.”

And she does. With every drawl, her strength grows. Arms reaching up to push your wrist deeper into her face—as if it could go any further. You winced but accepted the pain of your fledgling. Her thirst light eyes looked up at you from her awkward position on the bed. They enticed you more than anything ever had, allowing her to put you through pain, weakening you. “Enough…” You mumble, stammering. “That’s enough!” Snatching your arm from her grasp, you stumble backwards.

Leaning on the bedpost near her legs, you heave, wishing to regain your strength. A mischievous curl appeared on Caitlyn’s lips, but before she could revel, she crunched up like a piece of shrimp. Her hand clawed at her stomach, gagging like she wanted to throw up. “It… Hurts… Ahh!”

You run closer to her, placing a hand over her bloody lips. “That’s your body dying… You need to stay quiet before someone hears.”

Her eyes clamped shut as she groaned into your hand. Sighing, you shut your eyes. Perhaps, you forgot to think this part through. With your remaining amounts of strength—which wasn’t much—you picked her up. Placing one arm under her legs and the other supporting her back. Then, you leaped off her balcony and ascended toward your luxurious manor.

It was like you had appeared in another location, rather than flown there. Caitlyn was stuck in a haze of pain, wallowing on the bed you placed her on—yours. “Please, help me! Take away my pain!”

“I cannot do that. It’s something every one of us endures, sweet thing.” Your fingers caressed her paling face, running along her dark eyebrows. Sooner than later, she goes unconscious; and you watch as the beauty of her features embellish.

Caitlyn Kiramman didn’t need to be immortal to inhabit the nature of beauty. Her stoic features were burned into your mind the very moment you saw her and her silhouette. From this moment forth, she belonged to no one but you—she was your companion for all eternity.

When she opened her eyes to reap the benefits of the reborn, you weren’t anywhere to be seen. Her sight was clearer than ever—she could see the accumulation of dust on the crevices of your floral wallpaper. The spider weaving a sticky web in the wooden shutters on your long windows.

Caitlyn wandered the dim halls of your manor in search for you. Clenching and releasing her fists, as her slippered feet shuffled against the floor. She passed portraits of you hooked onto the walls. Where the gowns you wore exposed the time of the painting's creation. Then, she passed a dark corridor. Her curiosity getting the best of her, she wandered. Peeking into the room with a creaked door.

Her pale fingers pushed it, lightly. It’s hinges cracking under the subtle pressure. Two coffins remained, there was no bed frame or mattress. Just elegantly carved coffins—side by side.

She eventually found you sat at a long dining table only covered in expensive décor. Bronze five-headed candle holders, each wax stick blazed with a flame. There were only two chairs at the table: one for you, and assumably, one for her. A glass of a red, thick substance sat before you. The sides stained with its color—you’ve been drinking it.

“You’re awake…” You mused, shutting the small book in your hands. “Please, sit.”

A maid steps forward from out of nowhere, pulling the chair back for Caitlyn to take a seat at the table. Hesitantly, she does. Her eyes leveling on the female maid, chewing the soft skin of her bottom lip. “How do you feel?”

Her eyes were still taking in the interior of your home. It was inspired by the Strasbourg cathedral—gothic in all its glory. It wasn’t the same French style that the majority of England was interested in.

“I feel… I feel different.” Her voice was much smoother than before. More elegant—if that was even possible. She sighed, placing her hand against her stomach. “Very hungry, as well. Do you have any food here? Sandwiches?”

A boisterous laugh falls from your lips, but you cover your mouth with a white handkerchief. “Sandwiches? No, there are no sandwiches here.” You take the glass filled with blood between your fingers. “But, if lunch is what you desire. She’s right behind you.”

Her eyebrows furrow, peering back at the maid who had just pulled out her chair. Her head was down, hands folded in front of her body, politely. “What…?”

“Your body will no longer digest human food.” You explained, concisely. “She is now your diet.” There was still hesitation coming from your fledgling. Frowning, you narrowed your eyes, tightening your jaw. “If you don’t feed, you will die. And that death would be far from little.”

Her now paled irises looked back at the maid. “Go ahead, Miss Luther.” You wave your hand in the direction of Caitlyn. The woman was young with flushed cheeks and freckles that spread from the middle of her face. Her blond hair was pushed back by a pleaded coiffe.

The maid sits on her lap, without being asked. Causing Caitlyn to peer a crossing the table at you, with a slight glare. Miss Luther tilted her head to the side, exposing healing puncture wounds that were made by you. Caitlyn spoke your name like a warning. “I’m overwhelmed…” She squeaked, drifting her hands up the maids body.

“Well, you need to eat.”

“I don’t want to hurt her.”

The maid turned toward the Lady, smiling sweetly. “It’ll only be a pinch. I’m used to it.” She paused, looking down at the fledgling. “I offer myself to you, my Lady.”

With that, her eyes widened, shooting up from her seat. She flung her back so hard into the wall behind her that it cracked under her weight. Miss Luther fell to the ground, harshly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She waved her hand at the girl, before looking toward you. “I can’t do this.” Caitlyn stretched her neck from the woman—trying to pull the scent from her nostrils. She could smell the ripeness inside of her. “What have you done to me…?” She muttered, slapping her hands against her face, running it through her long hair.

“Only what you told me to.” Slowly, you stood tall from your seat, eyeing the situation at hand. You had never run into a newborn vampire who ran away from the enticement of blood. Downing the glass that was filled with the very essence of debate, you slammed it back on the table. The crystalline glass shattering under your fingers.

Appearing beside the maid, you pull her to her feet, gently. “Put your humanity to rest, my love, and drink from her.” You caress her freckled cheek before taking her jaw between the pinch of your fingers. “That is what she is here for— that is what she wants. Its more savory than sweet when they’re fearless.” Caitlyn remains stuck to the wall, chewing on her bottom lip. “I don’t want to have to tempt you…” Taking the maids wrist, you cut a thin slice with the blade of your fingernail.

Caitlyn hissed, baring her teeth. You chuckled, dabbing your finger along the laceration. Dipping your finger into your mouth, and popping it from your lips. “Savory, indeed.” You raised an eyebrow, holding her wrist out to her. Still, she hesitated, frustrating you more.

Your hands move quicker than your thoughts. Before you know it, you’ve pulled her from the dent in the wallpaper, nudging her to the maid. “You don’t have to kill her…” You offer, pushing her forth. “Just taste her.”

To be honest, you were fooling her. There wasn’t a such thing as a fledgling vampire getting a taste and not killing their victim. You were trying to save her from a painful death. She didn’t get this far to die because she didn’t want to feed. And what would that make you look like as her sire—the one who bore her?

With furrowed eyebrows, she leaned into her wrist, going teeth first. Her tiered white canines delved into the laceration, moaning at the flavor. A grin grew on your lips as she pressed her face deeper into her forearm. Miss Luther whimpered, watering eyes peering up at you. The thumb of your finger wiped a tear from her cheek, as the fledgling made a hungry move to her neck.

Caitlyn clawed at her with vigor, gripping the grey frock causing it to rip at the seams. Gutturally groaning into her jugular—getting every last drop of that vermillion goodness.

“Just like that…” You mutter, running your fingers through Caitlyn’s hair.

The maid went limp in her arms, her eyes fluttered shut. Caitlyn pulled back, dropping her body; overcome by a high. Her teeth were tainted with blood—its dribbling caught by the translucent cream nightgown that exposed her feminine silhouette. It stained a valley down her sternum trailing all the way to the frills at the hem near her ankles.

She bled Miss Luther dry—just like you expected her to.

Her hazed eyes looked to you, tongue licking her lips. The pupils in her pale irises dilated. “I ache for more…”

“Of course, my love. More you shall have.”

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