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fictionsaroundtheclock · 8 years ago

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Han Som Hatar Människan (He Who Hates The People) - Part 1: “Life Still Has Some Cards Up Its Sleeve”

Niklas Kvarforth x OFC

! Smut Warning !

It was just another show in Norway. The day was rainy, the air was heavy, the sky was cloudy. That didn’t stop the Shining fans from attending the fest. The small rain drops wouldn’t ruin it for them. In fact, Niklas thought the silent rain would fit well the atmosphere of the music. Night fell down, the rain stopped, but the air still reminded of the dark weather with the smell of rain. It was finally Shining’s turn to get on stage.

The show proceeded as it usually did. Niklas was drunk off his ass, he cut himself on stage, he burned himself, he smoked cigarettes and he extinguished them in his own skin, he shared a passionate kiss with Christian like many times before – all the usual specialties. After the show, Niklas had to pass by a certain amount of fans that wanted to meet the band. However, this very night he was experiencing some unexplainable anger, not even pain, but anger, so he wasn’t having it with the fans this time. He was trying to escape them without being touched by a finger, but he suddenly felt a hand wrapping around his arm. He clenched his teeth in anger and turned around to see who the intruder was. He was surprised to have his eyes locked to the eyes of a young-looking girl with a cigarette in her hand. Her hairs were blood red and her eyes were green. There was no emotion written on her face. Niklas stared at her for a few seconds, before she pulled him close with strength that almost surprised him and she smacked her lips against his. The man was puzzled and shocked, but decided to play along. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and kissed her violently. She then pulled away and looked at him questioningly, running her tongue over her bottom lip. They kept eye contact for a moment as Niklas wondered how someone could have the boldness to do such a thing. He then clenched his teeth in determination again and turned the tables, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her towards the backstage room.

“Hey, what are you doing?” The girl asked puzzled, but without a tone of blame in her voice. She just took another drag of her cigarette as he kept pulling her by the wrist roughly. Niklas himself didn’t know what he was doing, but just kept going with the flow. He opened the door to his designated room in the backstage and pushed her inside. He closed the door behind him. The puzzled girl took another drag of her cigarette as she looked at him expectantly.

“Don’t you think it was a bold thing what you did?” Niklas started with a passively calm tone as he threw his hands around.

“Of course I do. Did my boldness bother you?” The girl replied not any less bolder than her actions were. Niklas threw a questioning look at her and then approached her. He let out a small sarcastic laugh and put a hand on her cheek.

“Do you really believe something could bother…me?” He cheekily answered to her question with a question.

“You tell me. I’m not bothered by what I did, I’m sorry if you were. I am just a very…impulsive person and I’d rather not explain every action of mine.”

“I’m not one of those people, but don’t you think somebody could find this to be immoral?”

“Many people would, but I’m not bothered. I felt like doing it – I did it, I neither feel guilty, nor do I feel the need to explain myself and defend my actions.”

“I believe you’ve got some stories to tell.” Concluded Niklas as he took a long look at her eyes.

“Who? Me? I’m pretty sure you’re the one with quite the stories here, Mr. Kvarforth.”

“You’re a bold one. I’d like to see some more of this…boldness…Would it be a little too bold of me to ask you to spend the evening with me in my hotel room?” Asked the dark man with some perverse grin on his face.

“Not at all. I like adventures.” The girl replied cheekily making Kvarforth squint a little. He couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised. Most people would probably be scared or disgusted, other crazy fans would die to join him without knowing what they’re getting into, but she seemed to be taking it as a challenge.

Niklas took the girl to his hotel room. On the way there they didn’t say a word. All the interaction between them was summed up with the quick peeks Niklas was throwing over at her as he tried to study her. She didn’t seem to pay them much of a meaning. However, she kept them in mind as Niklas was known to be very unpredictable. They entered the hotel room and the girl took a look around. There were empty bottles of booze lying around as well as some knives, a few syringes and the carpets were stained with blood. The bed sheets seemed to be ripped with a sharp object and they were also stained with blood.

“They’ll make you pay for all of this, you know.” The girl noticed blankly.

“Money isn’t relevant. All that you see is.” Niklas simply said as he opened a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

“Destruction?” She looked at him questioningly and took his silence for a confirmation. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. That’s what us, humans, are best at anyway, isn’t it?” Niklas approached her, stopping only a step away from her and lifted the bottle up as he stared into her eyes. Without a word being said, the tall man took a handful of her hair in his hand and forced her into a deep kiss. She was struggling to keep up with the pace and rhythm of his tongue as she tasted the alcohol in his mouth.

“You might…need…some of this to survive through the night.” Niklas offered her the bottle and she bravely drank a mouthful of whiskey as she stared into his eyes, just the way he had done. He smirked. “It is going to be a fun night.”

The two of them ended up drunk as fuck, at first crawling on the ground in search for another full bottle and then sprawled out on the bed with the discovered bottle. They almost didn’t speak, they only laughed at nothing. Everything was fun and games, until Niklas pulled out a razor blade. The clueless girl just followed his every move with her eyes in expectation of the worst, but she wasn’t scared. He brought the blade to the skin of his arm and cut it open. The blood covered his skin and left another bloody stain on the white sheets. The girl wasn’t having it. She snapped the blade from his hand, making him a little angry, but the anger written on his face turned into interest and curiosity when she brought the blade to her lips and licked off his blood from the both sides of it, as her look was concentrated on his. She then threw the razor on the ground and knelt between Niklas’ wide open legs. She took his arm in her hand and gently licked the blood off of it too. Niklas was left a little impressed with her actions, at least as much as his drunken state allowed. His thoughts and vision was blurry, but he still had some sober thoughts on his mind. The girl, however, sober or not, she seemed to be crazy enough to do everything on her terms, no matter what and she was going to get her way. She gave his chest a playful lick and traced a line from his chest up his neck and then to his mouth. She gave his lips a quick playful lick too, before she hungrily slipped her tongue in his mouth. Of course, he didn’t mind at all. Actually, drunk as fuck, they were both already enjoying this game and it was just about to get interesting. Niklas tried to put the whiskey bottle down on the night stand, but thanks to his drunken movements it fell on one side and half of what was left of the whiskey was spilt on the floor. He took a handful of her hair in his palm as he held her into the passionate kiss. The girl’s hand slipped between their bodies and she started palming him through his jeans. It was a miracle he could get an erection in such a drunken state, but of course, the last thing she would do was complain. She started undoing his belt and she impatiently slipped a hand in his underwear. He let out a loud moan into the kiss. Niklas would wait for no invitation. Especially while drunk, foreplay was the last thing he cared about. He turned her over so she was under him and started kissing her deeply again. At the same time he worked on taking off her jeans and shoes. It was a little difficult in his current discoordinating state, but he finally managed to strip her naked. Her body was the best one he had recently laid his hands upon. In his twisted mind, the only way it could look better was with many cuts open on her skin and covered with blood. Or dressed in latex and wearing high heels, of course. He reached over to the night stand and felt around for the condoms. After a few awkward seconds he finally managed to put his hand upon them. Even drunk he never forgot that the creation of life is forbidden to him. He hated life in all its perverse forms, so creating a life himself would be unforgivable. Niklas slid his jeans along with his boxers down around his knees and impatiently slipped a condom on his length. Without waiting for approval, he roughly shoved his member inside the girl, making her moan out loud. He didn’t bother starting with a slow pace and increase it gradually. He directly started thrusting violently in and out of her, fast and rough. His breathing was heavy and he didn’t care to silence his moans as he had buried his face in her neck. The girl didn’t find this to be disturbing. In fact, she recently hadn’t slept with anybody as good in bed as he was. Besides, the thrill is why she did it in the first place. The thrill is why she kissed him back at the fest ground. She didn’t think she would get that far, but she was happy about it. Niklas Kvarforth was actually fucking her and he was fucking her good and that’s all that mattered. His pace never slowed down for a minute and she was moaning in pure ecstasy. He seemed to be really enjoying it as well as her well-maintained long nails ran up and down his back, scratching him mercilessly and hurting him just the way he loved.

“Niklas, I’m gonna…” The girl started, but the moment Niklas moaned in her ear, that sent her over the top and she screamed at the top of her lungs from the pleasure he gave her. No one had pleased her quite like that before. Niklas felt himself close as well, so he worked on reaching his climax too. The girl pulled him in for a kiss, sliding her tongue in his mouth passionately and in just a minute Niklas was trying to silence his moans into the kiss from the strong orgasm. He pulled out of the girl and slipped the full condom off, tying it and throwing it on the ground. It was the last thing he cared about. He suddenly felt the need to lie back down, but before he could do so, his vision got completely blurry and he fell upon the girl’s body. She was also dead tired and she either fell asleep or passed out as Niklas was still lying almost lifelessly upon her body.

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 months ago

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Interview with the Vampire - A Vampire!Niklas Kvarforth/Reader One Shot Story.

Okay, besties! The first fic for my Vampire Soirée is here. And yeah, couldn't help myself with the title. Had to. Haha! Enjoy!

Words - 4,293

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

“I really, really don’t want to do this.”

Your editor views you from across his desk with a mildly terse smirk. “I don’t care. You’re into the more extreme music, so therefore you get to interview him. You’re the natural choice, so go out there and get the job done.”

You know his word is final, nodding and moving from the small room that reeks of cheap coffee and your boss’s pungent body odour, returning to the main floor of the offices for the rock magazine you work for, slumping back down at your desk.

“Why me?” Indeed, why you. Likely, if you weren’t quite as revelling in acrimony, you’d see that your boss gave you the task of interviewing Niklas Kvarforth because he thinks you are nothing short of capable. You’d see the compliment in there, being trusted to secure something with the musician who is famed for either being extremely engaging with his interviewer – that is, if he likes them - or an absolute fucking nightmare if he doesn’t. It’s also very much dependent upon his mood, the amount of alcohol and drugs, or the lack of medication in his system, so you’ve garnered.

You decree right there and then not to meet him backstage, while he’d likely be revelling in the merriment of after show excess.

A few days pass, your flights booked, and an email received from Shining’s management, giving you a list of criteria you must meet in order for Niklas to be willing to meet with you. At least it won’t be after a show, which makes your insides relax a little. But it will be in a bar. Eeep.

Niklas will only meet the interviewer at night.

The interviewer is requested to come alone.

The interviewer is requested not to wear any strong perfume.

The interviewer is requested not to wear any items comprising of silver.

“Is he for real?” You mutter, thinking his demands to border on slightly diva-like. No silver or strong perfume? You wonder why, but then remember who you’re interviewing. He isn’t a run of the mill kind of person by any stretch of the imagination. A return email is sent confirming you will adhere to these requests, receiving the information on the exact time and location a short while later.

‘Tell the bar staff who you are there to see, and you will be shown to a private room.’

It feels ominous, but at 9pm on the date of the interview, feeling fresh from napping after your flight, you enter the bar and indeed tell the young man who greets you who you have a meeting with.

“Come with me, he’s waiting for you.”

You are escorted through the throngs of people, the bar itself not of modern build, everything carved wood, the smell earthy and rich. The noise begins to fade as you are led through two doorways out into a long, narrow room, bench seating flanking each wall, and a very tall man seated at a table in the far corner.

There sits Niklas Kvarforth, expectant, but unmoved by your arrival.

The energy of the room seems to radiate something you cannot quite put your finger on, but it emanates from him. It feels like both luminosity and a darkened abyss all at once, his eyes sharply focused upon you, your heart beginning to thunder rapidly. You’re unsure why, when he hasn’t even made a move, nor uttered a single word.

“Niklas,” you begin, recovering yourself, the bartender leaving. “Pleased to meet you, I’m...”

“I know who you are.” Extending a large hand, he gestures across the table. “Sit.” That voice. It’s a rumble of thunder, the growl of a bear, yet no matter how deep in baritone, he uses little in the way of volume to enunciate.

Taking a seat, you retrieve your phone from your bag and set it to record, placing it down upon the table. His eyes still haven’t left you, a burning blue stare, unblinking, unflinching, twinkling in the very low light of the room. He then reaches for the wine bottle at the side of the table, pouring out a glass and sliding it across the smooth wood.

“A two thousand and eighteen Merlot,” he begins, nodding at the glass. “I’m told it is a good year.”

Picking it up, you take a sip. It very much is. “A good guess, too. I like a nice, smooth red.”

The corner of his mouth twitches a fraction. “It wasn’t a guess. Social media provides a plethora of information to those wishing to seek it.” So, he found your Instagram, then. You should have known he’d probably research you prior to your meet. “But even if I had not, I would know you drank a glass not so long ago. Perhaps not of the same quality as this, but you did imbibe.”

You cock your head curiously. “How could you know that?”

“I can smell it on you.”

Your eyebrows pinch in slight frown. “That’s one hell of a keen sense of smell.” Taking another sip, the velvety liquid slides down your through, Niklas still studying you intently. “Are you not joining me in a glass?”

“It is, and no,” he begins, lacing his fingers together upon the table. “I don’t drink... wine, any longer.”

A curious response from a man who seems very much to enjoy a drop of anything alcoholic. More than a drop, in fact. “What’s your poison now?”

His eyes flit to the side of your neck momentarily, the rest of him remaining so still, it’s a little unnerving. “I have but one vice, driven out of necessity. It cannot be said I do not enjoy that necessity, though.” So, he’s choosing to be cryptic tonight. “Yes, I am being evasive on purpose, but you knew that I would be, didn’t you?”

A slightly sinister grin begins to widen his mouth, while you sit there and wonder how on earth he can seemingly read your thoughts so well. “The human face tells of exactly what ticks through the mind. In case you wondered.”

You know what he’s doing, attempting to unnerve you a little and likely use that to his advantage. Studying his interviews of the past, you’ve witnessed him do it before. He gets inside someone’s head through either unsettling or charming them. You would be lying if you said you did not wish for him to perhaps use a little of the latter, just for fun. Video footage and photographs do not do justice to how attractive the man is in the flesh.

A professional you may be, but who doesn’t enjoy being charmed a little by a fascinating, attractive musician? Still, you opt to at least attempt in playing your cards close to your chest.

“I didn’t,” you speak, and he laughs, a small burst of sound through his nose. He sees the hand you hold. Of course, he does.

“Yes, you did. Do not lie to me. I will see it.” Leaning forward slowly, his eyes fix upon yours again, pupils widening just a touch, your throat feeling tight. “Ask me your first question.”

Swallowing, you match his unblinking stare, drawing yourself up a little taller. “If you were one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse, who would you be?”

He studies you intently, almost like he didn’t hear you for a moment. “She seats herself at my table and actually asks me something interesting.” His lips curl into a small smile, his index finger tracing over a knot in the wood upon the table. “A rarity these days, to not be questioned over the same mundane things I have given answers to a hundred times before.”

You made sure not to while compiling your questions, each of which you have memorised well in advance of this night. He looks to ponder it for a few seconds, glancing away from you momentarily before his eyes snap back. “Who do you think I embody the most?”

Your reply is immediate, without hesitation. “All of them.”

“Why?”

“Your music could be constituted as a war cry, famine you’d likely thrive upon from your well-documented enjoyment of human suffering, plague is perhaps akin to how Shining’s music has spread, and death is what fascinates you.”

He cocks his head a little, his smile growing. “I like you.”

Much better than being disliked by the man, you suppose. “Any specific reason?”

“You see me,” he begins, laughing a little darkly, “or at least, as much as I allow you to.” He contemplates his next words, his eyes not leaving yours. God, the intensity of his gaze. It's about as thrilling as it is genuinely terrifying and yet, you aren't at all sure why he scares you. There is something so very inexplicable about him, his aura, the way he sits in such eerie, almost unflinching stillness. He hasn’t even blinked yet. “I get the sense you shall not bore me. I would say to death, but I am there already.”

“Your fascination, yes?”

Another rumble of laughter sounds. “A certain curiosity, you could say.” Again, he leans a fraction close across the table. “Next question. Make it good.”

“If Shining’s music began in any other era, do you think it would have had the same impact, or do you feel it transcends the zeitgeist no matter what?”

Once more, he smiles. “I definitely like you.” Picking up the bottle, he tops up your glass. “Drink your wine, and I will talk.”

Oh, and talk he does, the interview feeling less like something of structure, and more like an in-depth conversation about everything. Life, death, music, art, triumph, suffering; you cover all bases together. He fascinates you even more than you first assumed he would, too, yet there is still something about him that you cannot put your finger on, and it’s bugging you.

“You still have questions you seek an answer for.”

There he is again, seemingly peering right into your mind. “I do, yeah. It feels like something that doesn’t have a definitive question, though. Does that make sense?”

Lifting his chin, he shrugs, ever so slightly. “If you’d been paying attention, you would probably have your answer by now. I have dropped some subtle hints, here and there.”

He playing with you, but you cannot pull yourself out of the fascination, of the thirst to know what it is about him exactly that makes him so different. Yet still, you struggle to form the actual question itself.

“If I’ve missed them, why don’t you just come out and tell me?” you ask, Niklas humming amusedly, reaching out to run a fingertip down your cheek. The room might be warm, yet his skin is stone cold.

“Where would the fun be in that?” Yep. He’s definitely playing with you for his own levity. It annoys you too, that you actually enjoy it. “Would you like for me to show you, the answer to the question you are yet to ask?”

You nod, swallowing hard, wondering what it is you’ll be shown. “How?”

“Meet me at the front of the bar.”

It’s close to closing time anyway, so with your curiosity piqued, you finish your wine and pick up your phone, turning the recording off. Placing it in your bag, you smile, turning to leave the room, moving back through the bar. Struggling to get past the group of people milling around the entrance, you finally push through, swinging the door open and there on the other side, seeing Niklas waiting for you.

How did he...

“Hello, again.”

“How on earth did you get past me?” you frown. Even if he’d left via a back exit to the bar, you would have noticed him walking the length of the building, with its floor to ceiling windows bordering it, in order to reach the front before you.

“I move very quickly.”

You raise an eyebrow. “It’s... it isn’t possible, for you to have reached the front before I did. I would have noticed you. You’d need to move within the blink of an eye!”

He chuckles at your shrill tone. “Indeed, I would.”

You’re caught in his gaze again, shaking your head, your heart starting to hammer. Blinking rapidly, you gasp when suddenly, he’s vanished right before your eyes. A finger taps your shoulder.

“Hello, again.”

Spinning, you almost die of fright to see him behind you, your throat constricting. “Wh-what the fuck did you put in-in my dr-drink?” you stammer, perplexed to know what drug he’s obviously laced the wine with, making you hallucinate to this magnitude.

His eyes narrow, lifting his chin. “Nothing. You can trust what you see.”

“But, but,” you begin, pointing at him. “People cannot move that quickly.”

“Correct. Humans cannot, but I ceased being human a while ago.” He waits, watching as you try and piece it all together.

He requested you meet him at night only.

No silver jewellery.

Sharp sense of smell, hence now why you realise he insisted you not wear strong perfume.

He didn’t drink. Anything.

“I have but one vice, driven out of necessity.”

“I get the sense you shall not bore me. I would say to death, but I am there already.”

And he moves faster than your eye can detect. He cannot be, though! What your brain is suggesting, it isn’t feasible. It isn’t possible! It’s folklore, mere stories, because you cannot, you just can’t be standing right there in front of a vampire.

“I see the pieces have clicked into place. Finally,” he drawls, smirking a little. “Or do I need to give you exactly what you want to see?”

“I... I...” you breathe, your mouth dropping open.

He rolls his eyes, a little twitch of his top lip preceding two long, sharp fangs to pop out from his gums, a sight that makes you squeak as you clasp your hand over your mouth. “There. Convinced now?”

“Oh my... oh... fuck.” You should be terrified, and truly there is a slither of fear slicing right through your insides, but it’s overrode by a wash of curiosity, of wonder. There you are, standing in front of a real-life creature of the night.

You did wonder why Shining ceased playing at festivals in the daytime suddenly a few years before. Now you have your answer.

“I...” you begin, reaching towards his mouth. “Can I touch them? How sharp are they?”

It isn’t the reaction he was expecting, but your sheer wonder does amuse him on some level. “Feel for yourself.”

Your index finger prods against one of those pointed teeth, your skin broken immediately. It didn’t hurt, but it took you by enough surprise to pull your hand away, Niklas grasping your wrist and sucking your finger into his mouth.

“That Merlot tastes very good in your blood,” he speaks, finally releasing your finger from between his lips, eyeing you with radiating intent as you feel your body prickle with goosepimples, your nipples standing hard. All from having your fingertip in his mouth. Wow. “It’s making me hungry.” keeping hold of your hand, he moves his mouth to your wrist, tongue circling, pressing a kiss against where your pulse flutters madly. “May I?”

“You don’t strike me as the type to ask,” you quip, your body beginning to tremble, especially when he places a second kiss to your inner wrist.

“Although I love hunting down humans, scared blood tastes bitter. A willing donor is much more palatable.”

Nodding dumbly, the consent falls from your mouth before you’ve even processed it properly. “Okay, yes you can.”

Keeping hold of your hand, his other arm slides around you. “Not here.” His grip tightens and before you know it, he’s moved you within the blink of an eye to the alleyway that borders two buildings opposite the bar. Once again, he lifts your wrist to his mouth, the glint of his eyes like pale sapphires shining at you through the dark, another kiss placed before the burn of fangs pierces your flesh. It hurts, but god, the glimmers it drives through you, his mouth locked onto the wound strongly, sucking back your blood with a groan of pleasure.

Your insides virtually turn themselves inside out, hearing that.

Biting onto his own lip, he presses a bloodied kiss against the two puncture wounds in your wrist, the miraculous feeling of the wound closing making you feel completely spellbound as his blood heals you, his tongue working languidly over your flesh to lick it clean.

He licks his crimson lips, leaning down to you. “Thank you.”

You blink, and he’s gone, leaving you there breathless, perhaps even a touch deflated. He abandons you to the night, heart hammering, feeling awestruck, and that’s it? He’s just gone into the dark? He truly owes you nothing more, though. No explanation, no goodbye. Your interview was concluded, everything needed for your article to be written, leaving you only to steady yourself and call an Uber to return to your hotel.

It bothers you every single moment of the ride back there, all the questions you could have asked him, like when exactly he was made vampire, why he chose that, whether or not anybody else knows, and so, so much more. It also incenses you because of the burning ache deep within that his feeding on you left, yet to abate.

Do vampires still even have sex? Can they? They’re dead, so is desire still even a driving force within them, beyond that to feed?

All these questions and no big, handsome vampire there to answer them. Damn him.

Back at your hotel, you strip to your underwear, removing your makeup and cleaning your teeth before crawling beneath the covers. The bed linen is soft and crisply laundered, welcoming your body as you lie down and check your messages before turning off the bedside lamp. Sleep, as you soon discover, is a futile wish in light of what you now know, your brain buzzing, your body still humming from it all.

From him.

God, the way you felt as he fed upon you. It makes your nipples tighten just to remember it, your hands beginning to wander, knowing that unless you do something to sate the desire he stirred within you, you shall remain restless for the remainder of the night. With each sweeping caress, you imagine it is his cool hands exploring you, your arousal amping sharply, closing your eyes and seeing him there, imagining what it is to be pinned beneath him.

One hand clamps at your breast, the other wandering between your legs, slick anticipation waiting as you begin to stroke the petals of your sex with a soft moan, knowing the thoughts of him there with you in the bed will act as a suitably torrid fantasy for a time to come. Oh, if only... if only.

Tap, tap, tap.

Mildly annoyed by the disturbance, you frown towards the door, wondering why the hell you’re being disturbed at gone midnight, ignoring it at first. Your fingers continue their rhythmic stroking, your arousal once again blooming, sighing into the dark as you hope whoever is on the other side of the door simply has the wrong room.

Tap, tap, tap. This time louder than before.

Flinging the covers back, you huff, striding towards the door with a frown pinching your brows, looking through the small spy hole. Your heart almost crashes out of your chest, opening the door immediately, the tall form of the vampire who left you burning in your frustration looming over you as he steps inside the room.

“What are you doing here?”

He leans to you, two fingers running along either side of your jaw, tilting your head back. “Answering your call.”

“But I didn’t call you?” you speak, feeling like his presence is sucking the air from your lungs, the energy coming from him radiating with dark, swirling lust.

“No, you didn’t.” He leans to you, lips pressing a kiss against your neck, setting your blood to burn with the need for him, his hands grasping your bra to tear it open. “But your body did.” He lifts you with ease, and you wrap your legs around him, clutching his face in your hands as you lean, offering your mouth to his.

And fuck. The way he kisses you? He might be dead, but you feel like you’ve just been smacked in the chest with a live wire.

His mouth rains cold heat over you, placed upon the bed, Niklas looking down at you for a moment while his hands smooth over your skin. A sudden flurry of rapid movement renders him naked, your underwear torn from you, his hands parting your thighs to settle himself between them. You shiver at the feel of cold skin pressing against your warmth, your hands trailing over the dark blonde hair smattered over his wide, tattooed chest, his hand grasping your jaw to tip your head back, mouth closing in a kiss that evokes nothing but heat.

The sound he makes while delighting your throat with such attention is all beast, a primal, rattling growl, eerie and inhuman. You know you should be unsettled, fear the fact that you have what you now understand to be the greatest apex predator on earth between your legs, but oh, no. Fear is the furthest thing you experience beneath him, desire cording through you as his mouth scatters kisses steeped in blinding sensuality over every inch of your body, descending, tongue running up your thigh as he stares up at you.

His eyes close, long, dark blonde lashes concealing the blue fire within, mouth reaching your aching slit finally, his tongue diving in with hunger. The flush of pleasure is immediate, evoked by long, dragging licks, his groans still gravelled in predatory grit. The tip of his tongue seeks your clit, flicking gently to begin, sucking, taking the contact away to make you keen, returning it with a driving beat that sends embers skittering up your spine.

He consumes you carnivorously, nothing gentle about the way his mouth rains utter ruin upon you, your back arched like the bend in a riverbank as you gasp and cry out. The way he moves his tongue against your bud is unlike anything you’ve ever felt, quickening, until it moves at an unnatural speed; for a human, at least. He isn’t one, though.

“Oh shit, oh!” you wail, clutching his head, your nails digging in. “Fuck, that’s incredible! How the fuck can you move your tongue so fucking quickly?”

He rumbles an amused chuckle, sucking on you again. “You’ve seen how fast I move. That extends to all of me.” More rapid flickers follow, speedy, wet heat driving you to the place of complete nirvana, coming hard as the dew of your orgasm floods his tongue.

You’re suddenly moved, faster than you can comprehend, finding yourself astride him, Niklas steering his cock to your streaming cunt, a hand clutching your neck as he pulls you down onto it, every last inch slipping in with ease. “And if you think the way I ate you was quick, just wait until you see the speed I’m going to bounce you on my cock.”

One hand remains upon your neck, the other splayed on your back as he clasps you to him tightly, moving steadily to begin with, staring at you with burning desire, his fangs shooting out as he groans, all hellfire and sin. “Fuck, you feel good, little human.”

He kisses you, your lips and tongue scratched by the sharp of his teeth, kisses all burning sanguine and dark lust, his growl making your skin prickle with goosepimples. The rolling rhythm of it sends lightning darting up your spine, his mouth moving to your throat, kisses pressed, the accompanying graze of fangs making your nipples furl tight, the pain of him suddenly biting into your neck sending a neon blaze to glimmer through the very blood he drinks upon thirstily.

Oh, how scintillating the pleasure, to be fucked and fed upon by the predator between your legs at the same time, his body beginning to move up beneath you rapidly, both arms clasping around you, the grip strong, his mouth licking the blood trails left behind as you cry out at every deep, quick punch of his thick cock.

He literally throws you around the room thereafter, holding you by your throat to the bed, fucking you so quickly, you feel he’s about to go through you, moving you in a blink until you’re backed against a wall, clutching around him as he drives into you like a piston.

How it is to fuck a creature who doesn’t get tired.

It’s an inferno of celestial bonfire each time he makes you come for him, your body sweaty, blood streaked and exhausted by the time he finally forces his cock into your mouth, a cold jet of cum trickling down your throat.

You’re still floating far from yourself when you see him move rapidly, dressed once more in a blink, Niklas winking before in the next second, he’s vanished.

At least he left you nothing short of satisfied this time.

Upon checking out the following morning, the woman at the front desk hands an envelope to you, once which you wait until you’re in the Uber heading to the airport to read.

It should go without saying that you do not breathe a word over what I am to anyone. If you do, the next time I fuck you, you shan’t survive it.

I’d like you to survive it.

Yes. That part of your night with him definitely won’t be going to print, lest you never experience it again.

A/N - Did you enjoy it? Please be sure to let me know what you thought and give me a reblog. It goes a long way, guys!

#niklas kvarforth #niklas kvarforth fanfiction #shining #shining band #ddd vampire soire #black metal

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 months ago

Text

Sanguine Storm - A Vampire!Niklas Kvarforth/Reader One Shot Story.

I wrote a follow up to Interview with the Vampire (which you can find here) Enjoy!

Words - 6,654

Warnings - Adult content and smut below the cut, minors DNI!

You’re used to travelling with your job, flying all over the world to interview musicians. The journey you have taken on this trip though is to conduct a meeting with somebody entirely different; the world authority, she coins herself. On all things vampire.

It took time and many deep dive searches through the dark web, a place you were not altogether comfortable with visiting, before you found her. God, the sights you saw prior to finding Erzsébet Zrinski. Vampire’s might not be public knowledge, but they thrive openly within the darkest corner of the internet. Vampire porn? You got it, although it costs a fortune. Vampire sex worker services? Yep, you can find those, too, again the price steep.

By comparison, Erzsébet’s knowledge comes at a very pocket-friendly sum. You just wish she accepted meetings via Zoom, but alas she will only impart her knowledge on a face-to-face basis, to protect herself in case she is ever secretly recorded. “The vampires, they would come for me, should they definitely know what I reveal about them.”

Testament to this is the steep security she surrounds her modest home with, one located at the very end of a main drag of housing in the city of Szeged. Well, it’s steep if you’re a vampire, with the garlic plants growing all around in window boxes, and the window frames themselves fashioned from silver.

“Ahh, (Y/N),” she speaks friendlily upon opening her door, eyes scanning the street with caution, pulling a silver coin from her pocket. “Your hand, before I welcome you into my home.”

Holding it out, she presses it into your skin, waiting. Of course, if you were a vampire, your flesh would smoulder instantly. “You pass the test, but I must pat you down and check your bag for recording equipment before we proceed.” One quick pat down and bag check satisfy her, the elder middle-aged woman reassured even further when she sees you switch your phone off completely, thus earning her trust.

Following her in, she steers you toward the table within her kitchen, the hearth crackling, a couple of cats and a long-haired terrier dog warming themselves in front of it. They appreciate the little scratches you offer to their heads before you sit down. Once furnished with tea, she joins you.

“Now, dear. You are having difficulties with a vampire?”

That’s putting it mildly. “I am, yes. Well, I think I am, but I’m not so sure.” Taking a breath, you begin your tale. “I met him a few months ago, and ever since then I keep thinking I see him. I’ll be walking along and suddenly be able to pick his face out amongst a group of people, but in the next second, he vanishes.”

“They do indeed move quickly, dear,” she speaks. “Surely, you already knew that?”

“Of course, but we live in different countries. Over a few thousand miles apart.”

She sips her tea with a little wink. “A vampire can move a thousand miles in mere minutes. The older they are, the quicker they move and the stronger they are, too. Do you know his age?”

“Five, in vampire years.” That’s about when you can pin him down to being turned, somewhere around the 2019 time, when Shining ceased playing festivals in the daytime and Niklas’s presence became a lot more reclusive, too. “It isn’t just that, though,” you continue, wringing your hands a few times. “He’s in my head. I hear his voice, I dream about him and it’s like he’s really there with me. He’s taunting me and I don’t know how to make him stop!”

At seeing your anguish, Erzsébet reaches to pat your hand. “You drank some of his blood when you were with him, didn’t you?”

A strange question to pose, you think. “I erm, I did, yes.”

She hisses a wince, shaking her head as she closes her eyes. “Oh, darling girl. You shouldn’t have done that.”

In truth, you needed to in order to keep up with him. Human flesh is much weaker than immortal, and being flung around a bedroom by a big, horny vampire? It takes its toll on the body, and their blood is healing when imbibed by a human. After the first two hours, you felt like you’d been sandblasted between your legs. “I erm, I needed to, because of what we were doing at the time and ..."

Her nod is deep, humming knowingly. “I know all about that, dear.” She then whistles, low and lewd, her eyes narrowing a little. “Vigorous isn’t quite enough to describe, is it?”

No. It would be fair to say that it isn’t. A hail of goose pimples pepper your skin at remembering it, being with him. It was like a thousand tiny lights shone to brilliance all over your body, heart thundering like a war drum, bitten, spanked, mauled, fucked in every position you could ever imagine – and some you never had before – his growls of desire in your ears, the feel of fangs grazing your skin, the taste of your own blood on his mouth. Him. He might have been dead, but while you were with him, you’d never felt more alive.

While it was your body that called out to him, he now does the same to you, infiltrating your thoughts, haunting your dreams. Calling. Calling you endlessly.

“Dear, you have a link with him now. His showing up like that? It's truly him, you are not losing your mind. He drank your blood, didn’t he?" Your nod confirms. The woman feels for you, she truly does. Because they’re so largely unbelieved and unknown to society, she doesn’t blame you an ounce for having no clue over how to deal with them. Especially when they become bothersome. “He’ll be able to find his way to you because of that, a bond that is fortified even deeper by his blood also being within you.”

“For how long?” you sigh, hearing the desperation in your voice fully for the first time.

“Six months, give or take.” Her mouth thins at your eye roll. “Expect this to last until then, when it’ll begin to weaken and he won’t be able to get inside your mind any longer, or know exactly where you are.”

Shaking your head, you bite your lip, your insides sagging hard with dejection. “How does he even do it, though? How does it work?”

“It’s the magic in them. Nobody is quite sure how, but it’s that little bit of magic there that makes them what they are. His blood being within your veins gives him a very direct link to you, meaning he can transmit thoughts and visions. They use it to manipulate people primarily, play with them on an emotional level.

“If he’s proficient enough to do this as you sleep, then I draw the natural conclusion he was created by an ancient. Young vampires, they don’t have the skill, but if the one who made them is much older in years, then it is possible. That old blood makes them unbelievably powerful, even though in the grand scheme of things, he’s still just a baby at five.”

Manipulation and emotional mind games. How very on brand for Niklas.

Taking a sip of your tea, the warm liquid does little to comfort. “I can’t fucking stop thinking about him, Erzsébet. Which is exactly what he wants.” Closing your eyes, you see yourself there atop him, his fangs sunk deep into your neck, his arms clasping you to him as you howl in absolute ecstasy. “I try, but he’s too strong. Too alluring. Too damned charming and handsome for his own good.”

“I don’t blame you, sweet girl,” she smiles, patting your hand again. “Deadly they may be, but god above, they are beautiful creatures. That allure, it’s near impossible to fight. Especially if he doesn’t want you to. Especially if you know what it is to lie with a vampire, and of course, you do. No mortal can compare to them.”

Indeed not. The way he touched you, fucked you, it’s forever etched into your memory. No human man can ever hope to compare to Niklas. And yes, you do hate him a little for it, too. In fact, not even a little. A lot. You hate him because you still want him, because he’s worming his way in, for no other reason than the simple fact that he can.

You remain there in the warmth of Erzsébet’s charming little house for a few more hours, leaning from her expertise, her wealth of knowledge. She feeds you a warming bowl of paprikash and gives you a little wine too, of which you are grateful, paying her for her time and leaving. You depart feeling more knowledgeable, but certainly no better about your predicament.

The walk back to your hotel isn’t too long, the night warm enough still to enjoy the slow stroll, gazing upon the beauty that are the old buildings of the city. Stunning and looming, they offer a beautiful contrast to the newer, your eyes picking out the details of an architectural artform long abandoned for polished and shiny. Viewing one old building, you pause for a second, marvelling at the detail in each of the gargoyles. A wolf head, a man with his mouth open, the guttering overflow water leaking from it, a horse, Niklas, a dragon...

Your head snaps back, blinking, seeing the spot he was sitting upon now empty, your hand delving into your pocket to clench tightly around the thick, silver chain you’ve taken to carrying with you everywhere. With your heart racing, you hurry through the streets, feeling a little safer when you pass a long row of bars and restaurants that lead down to the corner your hotel is located upon.

There he is again in the crowd of people outside. In a blink, he disappears.

Racing down to the hotel, you can feel him at your back, your shoulders tingling unpleasantly, the weight of his stare making you feel like your body is sinking beneath it, rushing for the door and heading inside. Truly, you’re no safer there really, with it being a public dwelling, meaning he can simply walk in after you. If it was your own home, he would need your permission before he could cross the threshold, so Erzsébet revealed.

Why the fascination with you, you wonder? Surely, he must have a whole host of people he can do this to, ones located much nearer to home for him. Then again, travelling a few thousand miles, just like Erzsébet said, is truly not tasking for him at all. Still, though. Why you? Why not any of the regulars he likely feeds upon? According to her, vampires do develop a preferred blood source and become quite choosy thereafter.

It’s all very secret society-esque, how they attain their life source. In every city and town across the world, there are select groups of people who know of their existence, and will allow the undead to feed on them. To know them, you have to look for the mark, a symbol of a small, two-headed bat. Some wear it upon jewellery, others have it tattooed, but willing donors always bear the slightly altered sigil synonymous with vampires somewhere upon their person.

It still puzzles you, that you are not one of these people, and yet he revealed what he was to you.

That reason, he keeps to himself, standing atop a tall building as he watches you walk through the foyer of the hotel. He knew it would begin to eat you alive, knowing what he is and not being able to broadcast it, to attain the kind of interview you’d truly like to, reveal what he is to the world with his permission to do so. Of which, he’d obviously never grant. Nothing irritates a journalist more than knowing they have to keep a secret, and that is precisely why he told you.

Sitting down on the ledge, he closes his eyes, the dark void within him calling out to the blood that pumps through your heart, the body it came from causing it to flare as he smiles, imagining himself with you. He feels your heartbeat escalating as he beams that image into your head, his smirk growing. Meanwhile, you’re gripping onto the elevator rail, your breathing ragged, trying to block him out, his haunting, rumbling laughter filling your ears.

Opening his eyes again, he looks at the hotel one last time before standing, stepping clean off the eighty foot building and landing neatly upon the ground below, vanishing once more into the night.

You arrive home two days later, your flight landing at 11pm, an expensive Uber ride ferrying you across the city to your home. Once there, the need to simply fall into bed is overridden by your desire for a little organisation, to settle comfortably after pulling out your clothes and throwing them into the washing machine. Besides, you actually slept for a couple of hours during your flight.

Once showered and comfortable in an oversized sweatshirt and comfy little shorts, you make yourself a sandwich, not overly hungry, cutting it up into smaller triangles and pouring yourself a glass of wine. It’s a 2018 Tefethen Family Vineyards Merlot; the very same one he bought for you, the one you’ve developed quite the taste for. You suppose too, it serves as a reminder of the night. Although admitting that doesn’t come easily.

With every sip, you’re transported back to that private room within the bar, remembering the charm and wit of the man, the hilarity of his stories, how immovable his ‘couldn’t give a single fuck’ nature was. That and his intelligence, the breadth of his interests and knowledge, all of it wrapped up in something sinister and unnerving that you couldn’t quite place your finger on.

If only you’d known then what you do now, that you were interviewing a vampire.

“You know, you might succeed in getting him out of your head if you stopped fucking thinking about him,” you mutter, taking another bite of your food. “You’re only making it worse.”

Not even pure loathing of him can truly besmirch the memory. There is something so deeply arousing about fucking living death and surviving it. He could have killed you in a heartbeat, but he didn’t.

It isn’t like you’ve become lovestruck by him, absolutely not. Meeting an intelligent and fascinating musician isn’t uncommon for you, with the regularity it happens. Meeting a vampire, though, who soon afterwards took you to bed and gave you the best sex of your life? Entirely different. You still crave him beyond measure, and all the hate in the world will never dilute that longing.

You are, however, incensed that he probably knows that only too well.

Yes, the knowledge that you still desire him is likely what fuels his mind games. He has to have something to do for fun, you suppose, now that drugs are well and truly out of the equation for him. He could snort every single last gram of cocaine within Bolivia and not feel the effect, being that of course, he’s dead. You can’t help but smirk at that. Schadenfreude feels good when the subject is deserving.

He certainly revels in the very same, after all.

Once your sandwich is finished, you listlessly move to the sofa, switching on the TV and seeing there’s a new documentary on Netflix that takes your interest, pouring another glass of wine and settling in to watch. Tiredness has other plans, though.

It must do, for you have to be asleep when you experience your top being lifted and a cold set of lips pressing a kiss to your navel. After all, Niklas cannot enter your home unless you invite him.

Not again. For fuck’s sake, he’s relentless!

“Get off.” Opening your eyes, you see him smirking up at you. God, he’s so smug!

He places another kiss upon your abdomen, fingers clutching at your shorts. “We both know you don’t mean that, darling.”

“I’m not your darling,” you mutter, pushing at him with your feet.

He merely takes one, tickling your toes with his tongue. “You are when I’m balls deep in your pussy.”

Sighing, you sit up, pushing him away with your hands, his long form settling to the couch as he shakes his head. “Niklas, get out of my head. I know this isn’t real. Fuck off.”

“No, but it could be,” he speaks, kissing you slowly from your wrist down to your inner elbow, the seductive press of lips making your blood spark. “I’m outside of your home right now. Invite me in, and this becomes very real.”

Your reply is immediate, resolute. “I don’t want it to be, though.”

“Remember when I told you do not lie to me, because I will know?” Indeed, you do, becoming rapidly lost in the icy blue stare as he leans to you, nose touching yours. “I know that you lie. I feel that you lie. Blood never tells an untruth.”

He’s right, and you hate that he is, has this power over you, understands how to play you perfectly, your body the instrument he knows exactly how to handle in order to elicit the desired musicality. Tipping your head back, his lips ghost the column of your throat, just enough to feel you yearn for it, chuckling with a deep rasp. “Wake up, and give in.”

The press of his mouth evokes such a visceral jolt, you sit up on the sofa with a start, breathless, heart hammering, the tight pinch of arousal throbbing deep within. Flinging yourself to your feet, you still don’t know whether you’re going to invite him in and drag him to your bed by his neck, or scream at him for being so fucking insufferable when you get there. Suffice to say you’re stirred heavily in both directions as you yank the front door open, your eyes widening in surprise to be met by nothing.

Nothing other than the sound of haunting laughter coming from behind you.

Spinning around, you see him over on the small balcony that your lounge opens onto, waving with a sinisterly amused grin before his head tips back and he laughs more, riddled with mirth. The fucking bastard.

“Oh, so after all your protests, you do want me?”

The absolute nerve of him!

Silver. You need silver, because oh good lord, big, scary vampire or not, you shan’t take this lying down a moment longer. Storming through your apartment, you rip the drawer of the hallway cabinet open, your hands scattering papers, old postcards and other assorted junk out of the way, your fingers grasping exactly what you require before marching to the sliding door and hurling it open.

“Ooooh, she’s gonna get me!” he states mockingly, holding up his hands, eyes wide.

Raising the sharp letter opener, you hold it beneath his chin, his flesh beginning to sizzle as he stiffens momentarily. “Leave me alone and I won’t take great pleasure in ramming this upwards, before I tear it down and slice your throat open, you vile sack of dead flesh!”

He looks puzzled, cocking his head a little. “That’s a little rude, to say such things to the vampire who made you come, what was it, twenty times in three hours?”

“I mean it!” you snarl, pushing the point harder, watching his smile grow.

“Do it,” he encourages, leaning closer, his eyes flashing bright, revelling in it.

“I will! I’ll fucking end you out here!”

He curls his hands around your wrists, beginning to assist in that pushing. “Darling, did your little Hungarian friend not tell you? For silver to work effectively, it has to be solid, not plated. So no, you won’t end me.” Steering your hand upwards, the letter opener pierces him, Niklas laughing maniacally the further it tears through his flesh, his mouth filling with blood as the point of it exits to the side of his tongue.

You can only stare on in horror as his cold blood trickles over your fingers, his laughter growing, booming, your nerves setting your body to quiver as he sticks his tongue out and lets the blood flow onto the floor.

“Fuck, that got me hard,” he laughs, taking the letter opener and ripping from his jaw, dropping it onto the floor with a clatter as his wounds swiftly begin to heal. “And now here you are, with no weapon, and no safety of being inside your home. Just you and me.” He leans close, tongue tickling your earlobe with a faint groan. “So, now what are you going to do?”

In truth, as your heart thunders so rapidly that you feel nauseous, you have no idea. He’s got you. You cannot return inside, because he’ll simply move rapidly enough to block your path, you can’t call out for help, because there’s nobody coming to save you here. You’re stuck, and the delight he experiences in knowing this plays all over his face.

“I... I... I...” Floundering is all you have, the shame of it pinking your cheeks, fear cording every muscle tightly.

“You... you... you...” he mocks, stroking a bloodied finger down your cheek. “This is too much fun! Aren’t you having fun?” Looming over you, he begins to walk, penning you against the wall bordering your balcony and the next, his finger sliding tantalisingly down to your neck. “I must be just as crazy as they say I am, because I’d still take you to bed and fuck you in a heartbeat, (Y/N). Even though you came out here to attack me, I would still show you a very, very good time.”

You gulp, transfixed by the intensity of his eyes, your bottom lip beginning to quiver as he leans even nearer to you, lips ghosting your neck before his tongue flickers against your pulse point.

“Give up and invite me in.”

“No.”

“Oh, she found her voice,” he whispers, beginning to scatter kisses, his hands clutching your hips gently. “Tell me you want me.”

“I don’t!”

“You still lie to me, little human.” More kisses, his thumbs stroking, skimming the top of your shorts, heat beginning to crackle beneath your skin. “Tell me you want me.”

And god, how you do. How you hate him for it, the juxtapose clashing angrily within you, his arms slipping around your waist as he presses his body into yours, melding himself with you, those kisses against your neck gaining in intensity. He wasn’t lying either, when he said he’d gotten hard.

“Tell me you want me.”

Again, that demand is spoken, followed by a faint, aroused groan, knowing he’s eroding away at your resolve. You can feel it happening, brick by brick, your will not to succumb to him crumbling like an ancient tower, your hands moving to smooth down his wide chest. Fuck, he feels good beneath your touch.

You know you’re the instigator of your own downfall, but you can’t help it. “I want you.”

His mouth lands upon yours, kissing you, a torrid blaze burning everything in its wake, knocked sideways by the force of him, the blinding allure. There it is, that feeling of a thousand tiny lights blinking into brilliance inside of you, your hands moving to his face, clutching, nails grazing his beard as your tongue rolls sensually with his.

Pulling away from the kiss, he looks down at you, a grin widening his mouth. “Maybe next time.”

He vanishes in a flash, leaving you there with your mouth agape, still trying to catch your breath as the fear and desire of it now mixes with sheer furious anger. It is not a particularly fitting alchemy.

“I fucking hate that vampire!”

Picking up the bloodied letter opener, you enter your apartment again, locking the door behind you and drawing he curtains, stirred by him so heavily you end up finishing that bottle of wine before you fall asleep, frowning into the darkness. Of course, he can feel your agitation, and it pleases him, which only means you fall asleep even angrier that night.

In the days that follow, you don’t experience too much disturbance from him, only what your own mind conjures, rapidly shaking your head as if to physically throw the memory of him from your mind whenever it enters your head. Life continues as normal, work keeping you busy, a few visits to the office breaking the monotony of the fact that since lockdown, most of the editorial staff for the magazine now work remotely.

You also have dinner plans with friends, very much looking forward to catching up with these loved ones, spending your Friday night enjoying their company over good wine and even better food, moving onto a bar afterwards. It’s late by the time you call it a night, trying to find an Uber but quickly realising you’d probably arrive home much sooner if you walked. It’s only thirty-five minutes on foot, give or take.

The built-up area of the city breaks free from the jungle of concrete, heading through the lesser dense areas but for safety’s sake, keeping to as much of the main roads as you can. There is, however, a route you must take beneath a large bridge, an elevated section of road where it is much safer to pass beneath than upon it, the traffic crazy even at that time of night.

“Hey, ‘scue me, sweetheart. Got any spare change?”

Turning, you see a man approach through the quiet gloom, one who obviously isn’t homeless, merely drunk and probably all spent out. “No, I don’t.”

Continuing to walk, you pick up the pace, knowing the man is staggering along after you.

“Looks like you have, nicely dressed woman like you,” he speaks, advancing on you. “Oi, don’t fucking ignore me! Wait, talk t’me. You’re pretty. Wanna take me home?”

“Fuck off.”

He isn’t fond of hearing that, making a grab for your arm. “Don’t be rude, babe! C’mere!”

“I said fuck off!” you shout, trying to pull yourself from his clutches, until with immediate effect you’re freed. Turning, you see the man pinned by his throat against the heavy bridge supports, Niklas growling low in his throat, that predatory rumble having its usual effect on you.

“Never touch her again.”

The man struggles, but cannot free himself of his grasp. “Who th’fuck are you and where d’ya come from?”

“Neither matter. Apologise to her.”

Again, he struggles, the grip around his neck tightening, Niklas lifting him from the floor one handed with staggering ease, the man’s eyes bulging wide. “Fuck off! Let me go!”

He raises his eyebrows, nodding in your direction. “She told you the same, and yet you didn’t. Why should I, hmm?”

“Because you’re a fucking psycho!”

That rouses a wide grin. “Correct.” He then makes a beckoning motion with his hand in your direction. Walking over, you stop reasonably close to him, Niklas physically turning the man’s head in your direction. “Apologise, and I will let you go.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

Oh, he’s having too much fun, playing with him. At least it isn’t you for a change. “For grabbing you.”

Niklas turns to you, raising his eyebrows. “Happy?”

“I suppose,” you nod, folding your arms.

“See?” he grins at the man. “That’s all you had to do.” With one swift movement, the man is hurled through the air like a human javelin, coming to a thudded half against one of the other support pillars about ten feet away, grunting when he hits the ground. Niklas then turns to you, extending his hand.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” You look between him and the hand a few times, your hesitation earning an eye roll. “I can be gentlemanly when I want to be, (Y/N). Let me walk you home.”

“Fine,” you pout, “but I’m not holding your hand. I know your reasons for helping me weren’t borne of any benevolence.”

A single eyebrow arches high. “Then tell me, what were they borne of?”

“I desire to get between my legs, changing tactics since you know being a shit about it doesn’t sway me.”

He hums a chuckle as you begin to walk, pressing a hand to your shoulder. “But it does, though. It worked last time, didn’t it?” He’s got you there. Bastard. “I can be quite a decent vampire when I set my mind to it. Women like you shouldn’t have to suffer nuisances like him.”

“No,” you scoff, looking up at your undead companion, “I only have to suffer the nuisance currently at my side.” He laughs, and you walk together silently for a few seconds, before the question you’ve had burning away on the tip of your tongue finally flutters out. “Why me?”

“Why not you?”

Of course, he’s going to be difficult about it. “You must have a slew of other women you can call upon for sex. Why me? Why play the games?”

“Not just women,” he corrects with a wink. No, you wouldn’t put that past him at all; to confirm he’d fuck anything with a pulse. “Because you are interesting. You’re also an amazing fuck, and my fucking dark lord below... that ass. I could chip a fang on that ass.”

“You know, leading with that would have made you way less irritating to me than you have been,” you quip, crossing the road, noting the way he touches a protective hand to your lower back. This Niklas, he’s much more in line with how he was when you interviewed him, and you hate that you like it so much.

“I could have, you’re right,” he begins, smirking. “Where would the fun be in that, though?”

“It isn’t much fun for me.”

“It isn’t supposed to be, but it is for me.”

He’s so fucking insufferable! “Menace.”

“Hmm, I've been called much worse. I’ll take that.” Looking down at you, he witnesses you trying desperately not to find the humour in that, giving you a soft dig with his elbow. “Come on, crack your face. You know you want to. Plus, you have a pretty smile.”

Oh, fuck him. Fucking fuck him all the way to hell, the corners of your mouth turning up.

“That’s a fucking grimace. You look constipated.”

The snort of laughter his words pull from you cannot be contained, and yes, beneath it you’re furious with him for it. Yourself, too, for weakening your resolve. “See? Much better,” he speaks, turning his gaze from you up towards the sky. “There’s a storm on the way. The thunder is rumbling.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” you speak.

“Your ears wouldn’t have picked up on it. It’s a way off. Look at the clouds, it’ll be here soon.” Reaching for you, he lifts you into his arms. “Hold on tightly.”

You do, experiencing the feeling of what it must be like to get shot out of a canon, a total of three seconds passing before he’s placing you back upon your feet at your front door.

“There, your vampire delivery service has successfully deposited the cargo at its correct address,” he begins, reaching to run his fingers in a circle at the side of your neck. “I’ve behaved myself. Do I get to be invited in, so I can change that?”

The wink he accompanies those words with makes your heart skip on a couple of beats, your resolve once again weakening. If only he wasn’t so fucking hot. If only he wasn’t the best sex of your life. If only he wasn’t a temperamental, head-fucking, yet staggeringly charismatic vampire. You might have stood a chance.

When his mouth locks upon yours, that tentative resolve fractures to pieces.

“Come in.” you speak between kisses, wondering if this will be a decision you’ll come to regret once you’re no longer blinded by feral desire. Or rather, once he reverts to the more nefarious side of his nature. You’re half herded, half dragging him along, discarded clothes forming a trail through your apartment, Niklas lifting you, fingers dug hard into your thighs.

Your back hits the wall, his mouth devouring yours, practically eating your face with the hunger coursing through him. It knocks the breath from you, the feel of his icy skin pressed tight against your warmth a sensation you never thought you’d come to crave, yet experiencing it again makes you realise just how much you longed for it.

The route to your bedroom is recommenced, Niklas kicking the door open, the entanglement of you and him hitting the mattress with a thud. It’s wildly carnivorous, kisses virtually ripped from your lips, his mouth descending, pressing against your throat like brandings searing hot, preceding the true burn, his fangs popping out.

You cling tight to him as the bite locks onto you like a wolf devouring its kill, the thrill of it sending goose pimples charging across your skin like a herd of wild horses. The sensation of him feeding upon you feels like a thousand thunderstorms striking beneath your skin, blindingly erotic, more so than anyone could comprehend without experiencing it.

His is a touch that casts silent, wordless spells upon your body, knowing it in a way you’re not even sure you do, mouth descending to settle at your apex, closing over your slit and sucking with a hungry grunt of satisfaction. Cool licks meet the heat of your petals, his fingers digging into the soft of your thighs hard, leaving red crescents upon your skin as your hips shudder against his mouth.

It’s as if smouldering embers replace the vertebrae of your spine, glowing one by one as his tongue circles in slow firmness to begin with, speeding up, faster, faster... oh, fuck. The rapidity has you clutching the sides of his shaven head, his skin temporarily clawed red by the drag of your nails, your muscles tensing from the duality of it being too much, but somehow not enough.

Your first orgasm hits you like the storm that’s beginning to swirl overhead, bolts of light cracking the sky as rain patters against the windowpanes, your body shivering, the mouth between your legs granting no clemency. He continues, devouring you like a man half starved, hands trawling your curves to settle upon your breasts, groaning against your folds as his tongue laves at you firmly.

“Niklas, you need to stop,” you pant, watching him suck on you firmly, shaking his head.

“I’m happy where I am.”

“But you can’t fuck my mouth while you’re down there.”

Oh, that caught his attention. His grin widens, deeply sinister but sexy as hell, a rumbling chuckle filling the room. “Dirty girl. I like it, but later. First, I will ruin you.”

Standard with him, really, his mouth reconnecting once more.

The wet drag of each lick languidly rolls through your slit, up to your clit again, circling, nudging, glimmers skittering through you when he aims his next suck right there. Your little bud is sucked plumper before being bathed in the fast beating of his tongue. Fast… faster… faster… oh… how is he real?

Your body arches off the bed, toes curling, an orb of fire rolling through your groin before boom, it explodes, your legs wrapping around his head, feeling your clit throbbing against his tongue. He truly meant it when he stated that he’d ruin you, because once again, he doesn’t cease. With an aroused moan, he closes his mouth around you, hands continuing to stroke your curves, holding you still when your hips begin to purl against his face.

There’s no other way to explain it, he has you lost in pleasure, unmoored, adrift on the wide, dark sea that is the vampire between your legs, your body quivering as the hum of your energy mingling with his flows unabatingly. He has you cresting a third time before moving to kneel before you, drawing your legs up over his shoulders, sinking every last inch of his thick cock into your heat, transfixing, a shudder of excitement ripping his tattooed form.

The way vampires move, it’s so different to humans, something hypnotic that you truly can’t describe, but will never tire of seeing, experiencing as he roots himself in the plush of your cunt again and again.

Otherworldly is perhaps the best way you could coin it, just like him, coupled with the noises he makes, that guttural growl that’s far from human, a beastly rumble that never fails to set your insides to blaze. You hiss at the ebullience of it, nails raking his chest, his cock snagging against the tight clutch of you.

He’s heavy and wide within you, wracked by muscles cording, jumping under goose pimpled flesh. He speeds up, spearing you deeply, the flex of your heat around him making pleasure tumble through his deadness, sparking light through the dark of him. His body falls to yours, gripping your hips hard, another flash of lightning illuminating the room, his tongue running up your throat as he groans eerily, biting your earlobe.

Grasping your jaw, he turns your head with a swift jerk, something seeming to soften in him for just a fraction of a second when he kisses you.

“You...” he begins, hand moving to clutch your throat, “are perhaps the most beautiful woman I have been with in a long time.”

High praise, coming from a vampire who likely has an entire harem on standby. That little display of tenderness goes just as quickly as it came, though, Niklas pulling you up so you’re sat astride him, one hand remaining in a tight clasp upon your throat, the other beginning to lay rapid, hard spanks to your bum.

He fucks up into you with brutal force, your own hips rutting against his in a roll so deliciously serpentine, you have him feeling mindless at the way you fuck him back. The pleasure is biting and powerful, like a summer tempest winding tight, rolling over you both without pause in a ceaseless continuation, gaining the same heavy momentum as the storm that rages on outside.

Except what you and Niklas share that night far outlasts the thunder storm, your body once again ravaged beyond comprehension, until you’re tired and sore, finally coming to rest at somewhere close to 2am. Unlike last time, though, he doesn’t leave right away. It’s almost alien to you, lying there atop his body, feeling his fingers stroke swirls up and down your spine as you recover.

Turning you onto your side as your eyes grow heavy, he stares at you for a long moment, his fingertip stroking just above your eyebrow. You blink, and it’s in that moment he vanishes, something in you expecting he’d leave wordlessly just like the last time. It’s his nature not to hang around.

In the days that follow, you wait for his mind games to resume, his presence to come crashing into your dreams, but to your surprise, it never happens. Three months pass and the link to him through your blood fades to nothing at all, life continuing like he never came into it.

Exiting your apartment one morning a further month along from then, you almost kick over the bottle that’s been placed outside your door, bending to pick it up. Tefethen Family Vineyards Merlot; 2018, with a note attached.

‘It would be unfair for you to return to the bore of a human lover now you’ve had me. If you want me again, call the number below. If I can, I will be there before you’ve even hung up. If not, then you are plainly stupid and have no idea what is good for you.

You aren’t stupid though, are you?

N.’

No, you’re definitely not. Still, though, you make him wait a further month before calling.

#niklas kvarforth #niklas kvarforth fanfiction #shining #shining band #black metal

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fictionsaroundtheclock · 7 years ago

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Han Som Hatar Människan - Part 6: “All The Things She Said Running Through My Head” (Final)

! Smut Warning !

The time for Kvarforth to return for the second part of the tour had come. The next morning he had to travel back to Sweden. Now he was lying in the arms of Abigail after some really wild and rough sex, soaked with blood. At least Abigail was one of the few to actually enjoy this fetish of his and he appreciated it.

"What's your plan after I leave?" Niklas asked and there was a little tone of grief in his voice.

"The same as before. I will do my strip dancing whenever I am called and during my free time I will enjoy the rest of the life I have to live." Abigail replied blankly.

"Do you really want it to end this way? Didn't we go through enough?" Niklas raised his voice with disappointment. It was his last chance to act, so he couldn't miss it for the world. There was confusion written on Abigail's innocent face. She was about to say something, but he cut her off. "I don't want you to spend the rest of your days stripping in front of some men you don't even know. If you're going to strip for anybody, that's going to be me. I have an offer for you and I'm not leaving until you accept it. I want you to spend the rest of your days remaining with me."

"Niklas, do you even hear what you're saying? You're scaring me. You did take your pills, right?" The girl slightly pulled away from him frightendly.

"At least now don't treat me like a sick man - now when I am for once being straightforward with you. And please be kind enough not to throw this in my face. But I really want you beside me for as long as it's possible. I won't be able to take it if some day someone calls me to tell me you're dead and I haven't had the chance to tell you last goodbye." Niklas was being torn apart between his ego and his need for her, but in the end what would his ego mean if he didn't have her?

"Nik, I can't just leave my job..." Abigail looked at him regretfully. She couldn't believe he had actually found the courage to show her in one way or another that she was important to him.

"You keep doing so much for me. Let me do something for you while I still can. You won't need a job if you're with me."

"That's the problem. I want to take care of my own self."

"For fuck' sake, Abigail! Can't you swallow this pride of yours just for a while?"

"It's not only about pride, Niklas. It's about being a burden."

"You're so not a burden for me, but if you so much desire to work, I can find you something at Shining to work for. Just say you'll come with me." Niklas almost begged. He found himself being able to let go of his pride, otherwise the cost would be her. Abigail looked at him pitifully, wondering if he is to be trusted. On further consideration, he had never let her down and she had actually enjoyed spending time with him. She didn't want to rot all alone for the short time she had to walk the earth and he seemed like the perfect partner for her. Unstable partner, but still someone who could handle her ways.

"Alright then, I'll come with you. I'll quit work tomorrow morning." The girl agreed with mixed feelings. She still didn't know what to think of this new Niklas that appeared to her and seemed to be a real opposite of himself.

"There's something else. The thought of it was killing me even in my sleep, but I thought about it a lot and decided it couldn't be that bad after all. The thing is, Abigail, why don't we have a child together?" Niklas asked stuttering. That really scared Abigail and she jumped out of bed. Niklas wasn’t any less scared of the thought, but it was a risk he was willing to take for something to remember her by and this something to keep him sane when she is gone.

"Niklas, you really are scaring me. You don't want children, remember?" She squealed with the look of a frightened rabbit on her face.

"Could you listen to me, Abigail?" The man barked through his clenched teeth, but came back to his senses and exhaled deeply, hoping he hadn't scared her too much already. He also rolled out of bed and took the girl in his arms. He laid her down on the bed and hovered over her, only lips away from hers. "I had this talk with Christian and he might be young, but he gave me an idea, which I never thought I would approve. He thinks that we should have a child. This way you wouldn't have lived in vain and I would have something worth living another day for, because it would be like a gift from you." Niklas spoke with a gentle and caring tone as he ran his fingers through her hair soothingly. "Haven't you ever thought about having a child?"

"Well, I guess but..." Abigail stuttered confusedly. It was all getting too much, but Niklas was actually making a point. "What if I die during the pregnancy?" Her eyes teared up at the thought of the possibility.

"At least we would have tried, knowing we did it for each other. Why don't we do it now?" Niklas' voice suddenly turned seductive and his right hand caressed her bare left thigh. "The sooner the better."

"Let's risk it now or never then." Abigail whispered and pulled him in for a kiss. She now felt more attached to him than ever. Actually, she had never been so attached to anyone. She wrapped her arms tightly around him and deepened the kiss. He moaned as he lowered his body on hers. Without waiting for an invitation, he took his member in his hand and slowly pushed it inside her. This time Abigail felt it more intense than she had felt it before. Sure, it was only sex before and no matter how hot and wild it was, it never felt as intense as this time. This time there was something else to it. "Niklas!" Abigail moaned as she felt him stretching her deeply. She took his face in her hands and kissed him passionately. Niklas moved in and out of her slowly.

"Oh, yes!" Kvarforth moaned as the girl scratched his back with her nails, drawing blood. Of course, this put a perverse smirk on his face and it turned him on even more. He slipped his tongue in her mouth again and gave her one of those kisses that made her moan like a school girl. Abigail bravely gripped his ass and smirked as this earned her a moan from him. Niklas felt the burning need to finally cum, so he picked up his pace to his usual insane speed. He buried his face in her neck and concentrated on reaching his orgasm.

"Are you going to cum for me, huh?" Abigail teased as she licked his earlobe. The only response she got was a loud groan. "Come on, Niklas. Cum inside me!" She encouraged him. Niklas gripped the sheets tightly as he froze and his mouth formed the shape of an "o". He made a few last thrusts in and out of her and laid his body down on her lifelessly.

"That's right, baby." Abigail whispered soothingly as she was caressing his back. The crucial moment had passed and now only time could tell if it was meant to be or not.

Niklas was back on tour and even though the road made him hateful and grumpy again, he was happy to have Abigail by his side. They were staying at a hotel and Abigail decided to take a pregnancy test. The test was positive and this brought tears to her eyes. She didn't know if those were tears of happiness or disappointment. She didn't know if she regretted her decision for the simple reason she wasn't sure if she was ready to be a mother, but she didn’t really have the luxury to wait in vain.

"Two red lines." Abigail announced blankly as she stared at the test, thinking Niklas was alone in the room. She lift her eyes up just to see Christian sitting beside him. "Oops."

"Congratulations then." Christian smiled.

"I don't know how I feel about that. I don't know if I'm happy or if I hate either you or myself." Niklas noted, turning to Christian.

"Hate me all you want, but I'm pretty sure you'll be thankful one day." The younger man stated cold-bloodedly.

"Niklas, come on, man. You've got an interview booked, remember?" Peter peeked through the door impatiently. Niklas sighed and threw his head back in frustration.

"Life is beautiful." He said sarcastically and with disgust as he rose to his feet. He ran a hand through Abigail's blood red hair and walked out of the room, leaving her alone with Christian.

"Ready to be a mother?" Christian teased.

"I don't know if I'll live to be a mother. In fact, I could die right here, right now and Niklas' baby would never see the light of day."

"Don't be like that. Those dark thoughts are like his, not like yours."

"I'm scared."

"You? You are never scared. You lived through a whole month with a mentally ill man who throws knives at you."

"A mentally ill man, who was almost nothing like he usually is. As I said some time ago he was really behaving and definitely wasn't that much of an asshole, which made me love the sick fuck even more." Abigail admitted with a confused smile.

"Love him? It must be difficult loving such a complicated person like Niklas Kvarforth himself." Christian replied a little blankly, as the key word the girl used cut him with a knife a little below the heart.

"It is. But you must know what it's like, since you seem to look up to him."

"I do. I still do, even though I've been in the way of fire many times. I guess it's about accepting him the way he is. Then it's easier living with him. I'm glad he seems more stable and much healthier than some time before."

"How do you feel about the idea you gave him, now that it's a fact?" Abigail asked curiously.

"I've got mixed feelings, just like both of you. Not in a bad way, it's just that it was just another shot that I willingly sent into the enemy's field, but I did it for both of you. Whether you liked my advice or not, that's both of yours' business. You’ve taken it anyway, so it’s late for regrets."

"Since I know stuff and I have noticed them and understand what you meant, I'm going to be straightforward with you. I'm not sure if it would have ever worked between us Chris. It's not that you're not my type or something. You're a cute, handsome, talented young man, but I guess my fuck up-ness matches that of Niklas. No matter how often you remind him that he is crazy, you too are in your own way and everybody appreciates that. I appreciate what you told him, despite it working against yourself."

"You don't need to explain, Abigail. I might be young, but I understand. As long as you keep Niklas running, I'm ok with everything."

"That's an honest thing to say." Abigail smiled.

"Don't worry about the motherhood thing. Whether he likes it or not, Niklas will help. And you'll definitely be a MILF." He smirked.

"That's encouraging, thank you." The girl giggled. "Now we drink!" She announced victoriously as she sharply rose to her feet.

"Now..." Christian also rose to his feet, standing at least a head above her. "We drink and you don't, because it's dangerous for the baby." He crossed his arms.

"That really turns the scales down, you know."

"It's a responsibility."

"Well, I'll give you a responsibility, alright."

"Don't get me wrong, I'll miss the drunk you too." The blond man snickered.

"You want something to remind you of the drunk me?" The girl said challengingly.

"How is that even a question?" He shrugged. Abigail grabbed him softly by the jaw and slipped her tongue in his mouth, kissing him deeply. "That's it. Unless you're in luck and Kvarforth is feeling kinky some time again."

Taking care of the unborn one wasn't an easy job, keeping in mind who its father was. Abigail often was about to give up, which brought her to her beloved bottle of whiskey. That would usually happen when Niklas' mood was such, that he regretted wanting a child. If he had been more aggressive with his words, Abigail would run for the bottle, as she was being sensitive for the first time in her life because of the pregnancy. This reaction of hers would make him soften up a little and he would make her drop the bottle. The rest of the guys from Shining made sure he behaved more than ever, as he could threaten two lives at once with his controversial behavior. Those were nine heavy months, but the crucial day was finally close.

Abigail was sent to the hospital for finally being in labor. She had never been so scared before. Niklas was in the studio with the guys when he received a call from the hospital. The moment he found out what the deal is, he got all tensed up and worried. The day had finally come. The guys wanted to be present too, besides they had to watch over him, as if he was a criminal.

"You're a soldier, you can do it!" Niklas encouraged his girl the only way he could as he was holding her hand.

"It hurts so bad!" Abigail screamed in pain at the top of her lungs.

"You have to breathe!" The nurse encouraged her.

"It hurts!" Abigail cried again.

"Now push!" The nurse commanded.

"I can't do this!" She cried as she gripped Niklas' hand tightly.

"Oh yes, you can!" Niklas said tensely through his clenched teeth. After all the difficulties, a healthy little girl was born. The crew showered the baby and gave it to it's mother.

"What do you want to name it, Niklas?" Abigail asked lifelessly as she took the little human she had suffered so much for in her hands.

"I want to name her after you - Abigail." Kvarforth stated. He had a confused smile on his face.

"Abigail it is then." The woman smiled as she looked down on her newborn daughter.

"Are you supposed to breastfeed her now?" Niklas smirked.

"Kvarforth!" Abigail's jaw dropped in surprise and disappointment.

They had to spend one night at the hospital. Niklas had to stay with Abigail, so the rest of the guys decided to stay with him. They were out in the corridor, drinking coffee, while he was sitting on a chair and watching Abigail sleep. He admired her silently. Suddenly, she opened her eyes and in them Niklas saw pain.

"Niklas..." The woman whispered as she looked at him with tortured eyes and she exhaled.

"Abigail?" Niklas said confusedly. When he didn't get an answer he panicked. He quickly rose to his feet and hovered over her. "Oh no, you can't fucking leave me right now!" He shook his head as he noticed she wasn't breathing. He tried a mouth to mouth breathing, but no matter how hard he tried it wouldn't work. "Abigail!" He screamed in his panic and the guys peeked through the door. "Find a doctor right now!" He ordered angrily and a minute later the doctor showed up with a nurse.

"What is going on?" The doctor asked, hovering over the lifeless woman.

"She's not breathing. I tried!" Niklas hissed through his teeth as he stepped back next to the guys. The doctor did what he could, but it was too late.

"I am sorry." The doctor exhaled as he stepped away.

"No, no, no!" Kvarforth shook his head in disbelief as he took the lifeless girl's face in his hands. "Abigail!" He screamed angrily in pain at the top of his lungs. First his mother not so long ago and now the only person in the world that he could say he loved. Both gone.

Needless to say, Niklas turned as dark as he was once. No light in the end of the tunnel, only two little candles - the memory of his dead Abigail and the little Abigail that had only him. At the funeral he got both drunk and high, but after getting a punch in the face from one of the guys, he came to his senses and realized he's got responsibilities as a father.

The only people attending the funeral were the prostitutes that had once sheltered her, the guys from Shining and the few stripper friends she had. Her parents weren't invited, because Niklas knew Abigail would rise from the dead simply to spit in their faces if they showed up. Yeah, he wished. After the funeral, the five of the guys were sitting in their official suits with glasses of whiskey in their hands and no sound could be heard.

"Now what?" Christian ruined the silence.

"The same old song with a new voice. Pain. All over again. But you were right, Chris." Niklas, the sick fuck, leaned back and ruffled the younger man's golden hair. "If it wasn't for sweet, little, helpless Abigail, who has nobody else but me, now I'd be dead-drunk, high as fuck and covered in prostitutes. Or the strippers that came to the funeral. Life goes on as painful as ever. If nothing else, then at least I'll have enough of inspiration to write enough material for two albums." He said blankly as he rested his elbows on his thighs and took a sip of his whiskey.

Sure, life went on, but everything was tasteless. The whiskey, the blood, the pain and suffering of others - none of his weaknesses could satisfy him anymore. Only the little Abigail was making him smile now and then. He promised upon her mother's grave to be a good father and he did his best, but without her guidance it still didn't seem enough, even though the little girl seemed to be feeling fine. He never thought he would suffer over something "as replacable as a woman" as he liked to say and yet there he was - suffering over a woman. An irreplaceable woman.

"No pleasure can be liken to you

And no conquer can be equated to you

No euphoria can be compared to you

And no love can ever replace you

Because without me you're nothing, you're nothing

And without you I'm nothing

But together we are everything" - Shining "Tillsammans Är Vi Allt"

#my fanfiction #fictionsaroundtheclock #ff #fanfic #fanfiction #han som hatar människan #han som hatar människan part 6 #Niklas Kvarforth #niklas kvarforth fanfic #niklas kvarforth fanfiction #niklas kvarforth ff #niklas kvarforth x ofc #ofc #kvarforth #shining #shining ff #shining fanfic #shining fanfiction

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