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evilfloralfoolery · 15 days

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Love Bites - Part 2

Like the title says. ;)

**Also, make sure you realize that werewolves and vampires are creatures that feast on blood and flesh. If this type of thing bothers you, this fic is not for you. There's going to be blood. Curate your internet experience accordingly.

Please see the end of the fic for translations and such fuckery.

Enjoy!

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Like himself, Marrok is a creature of the night, so there is no surprise in Lucian when he awakens at dusk to find the werewolf still sleeping beside him. Not that Lucian himself truly “slept.” The slumber of a vampire was more of a deep, meditative void. He had gone weeks without “sleeping.” Now, it was a sort of indulgence to lie beside his lover, who did still require rest.

At least it had been as such, until this vile misfortune had been foisted upon him. Now, resting was a necessity until the wretched foolishness of his body had healed itself. Exactly when that might be, he did not know.

Marrok grumbles in his sleep and rolls onto his side, one arm flopping across Lucian’s body. Whether it is the werewolf’s need for “pack behavior” or a true desire to be close does not matter. Lucian takes the opportunity just the same.

He curls against Marrok’s bare chest, lulled by the steady, pulsing rhythm of his heart. That is, until his own body decides upon retribution. Always at the most insufferable and inconvenient of times.

There is no time to grope for his handkerchief, no time to pull away. Instead, he must contend with the indecency of steepling his hands over his nose and mouth, muffling a poorly constrained “--nnkgSSCHuh!” into their confines.

The slumbering cadence of Marrok’s breathing stops.

“Je suis désolée, mon cher,” Lucian says from behind the cover of his hands. “I am stihh–still—-hhhuuhIKGSSSCH-U! Ugh, mon dieu.”

Marrok chuckles. “Hmn, I’d ask if you’re dying, but–”

“Ferme ta gueule,” Lucian says, which only earns him a louder, much more pointed laugh.

“Make me.” Marrok grabs Lucian’s wrists, tugging his hands away from his face. “And quit it with the hands.”

Lucian huffs. “Would you rather I show such indecency to your bare chest, then?”

“Yeah,” Marrok says. “I would.”

Rough, calloused palms cup his face and Marrok kisses him with such passionate vigor that Lucian moans against his mouth. Purely involuntary, of course.

“I’d like to fuck the starlight out of you right now.” Marrok runs his tongue over Lucian’s bottom lip. “But I’ve got wolf shit to do.”

“Do you?” Lucian’s hand wanders between the werewolf’s legs, nails scraping his inner thigh. “What sorrow for you.”

“Goddamn it.” Chills march up Marrok’s arm and it is now Lucian’s turn to chuckle.

“You began this. The fault is yours.”

In the distance, a chorus of howls too vocally eerie to be mere wolves escalates and Marrok grumbles. “They’re doing stupid shit. I gotta go.”

Lucian withdraws his hand and sits up with a pointed sniffle. “I will try not to be too unwell in your absence.”

Marrok rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I’m going to go kill something.”

One golden eyebrow arches. “Something or someone?”

“Does it matter?” Marrok crosses the distance back to the balcony and hops onto the ornate rail.

“It does, if one has taste.”

Marrok makes a show of extending both middle fingers. “Taste this.”

He vaults over the side of the balcony and lands somewhere in the courtyard, disappearing into the underbrush before Lucian can track his movements.

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By the time Marrok returns, darkness has fallen to the fullest extent, the air heavy with the scent of night blooming jasmine and fresh oleander.

And the metallic sweetness of fresh blood.

“I take it your hunt was successful.” Lucian files the edges of one nail into a fastidious point and sits back to admire the shape for a moment.

“Yes.”

One side of Marrok's face is coated in slick, glistening crimson, brutal to some, but alluring to the vampire. How fortunate was he to have such a magnificent creature to indulge and woo.

Upon noticing Lucian’s amorous stare, the werewolf tilts his head with a smirk. “You like what you see?”

“Oui. J'adore votre folie.” Lucian sets the file down and rises to his feet. “Now, kiss me while the taste of life is still fresh upon your lips.”

“Mmn, that's hot,” Marrok says.

And he complies readily. Eagerly. While there are plenty of deer and other prey in the nearby woods, tonight's feast has been human. Lucian can taste it, can see the flicker of images within his lover's mind.

A man with intent to do far more than follow a young woman home. Another with an abhorrent collection of photos from those who did not give consent.

But of course. Beneath the simmering rage and bluster lurked a vigilante dressed in fur and fangs. Not that Marrok would ever admit to such a thing.

Just as Lucian was loath to admit the stupidity that had caused his current condition. While Marrok's accusations had been false for the most part, Lucian had placated him the falsehood of ignorance when questioned about how he had managed to become so suddenly ill.

Lucian was more than aware of how it had come to pass. Despite popular folklore, sunlight would not destroy him. Too much exposure to it would, however, prove to be terrible for his well being. Hunting during the day was not his preference, but at times, nature proved to be stronger than common sense.

And speaking of such things, his sinuses saw fit to remind him of his idiocy several times an hour. Obviously, he is now somehow overdue.

He places a hand upon Marrok's bare chest to indicate his need for distance. “Ah, pardon. I am-hhhuuh!” He fights the urge for all of three seconds before managing to tug his handkerchief free of his sleeve, where he had tucked it away for easy access. “IHSSSCHu! Hhhhhiiiih-hhh-uuh. . . ! HhhISSSCCH–UUH!’ The hand switches to light upon his own chest, as if he must do so to catch his breath. “Mon dieu! My apologies.”

“Huh.” Marrok studies him with a furrowed brow. “You really are sick.”

“Why such surprise? I told you as much myself.” Lucian muffles another wrenching sneeze into the folds of the cloth. “I have abused many handkerchiefs while you were away.”

“Oh yeah?” Darkness swallows the yellow of Marrok's eyes until only a slight ring remains. “How many?”

“More than you have fingers, mon cher.”

“Fuuuck,” Marrok says with such soft, vehement feeling that Lucian chuckles.

He does not, however, return his lips to their previous plundering. Instead, he buries his face in Lucian's mess of golden waves and inhales the scent of him like he is somehow drawing sustenance from it.

“You haven't fed.” Marrok’s voice is almost tender for a moment before it is replaced with his signature sass. “You want some of this?” He gestures to himself with a saucy grin.

“You have spent much time hunting,” Lucian says. “No harm will come to me if I do not. . . “ His words trail into nothingness, for Marrok has dragged his nail over his wrist, slicing the sun-bronzed skin just enough for a thin rivulet of blood to drip from his fingers.

“Come on.” Marrok runs his tongue up the side of his hand, his lips wet with a vermillion shine. “You know I taste good.”

Lucian rakes a hand through hair with a huff. “Putain de merde.”

That gets a raucous laugh from Marrok, who soon finds himself pinned to the wall, an arm across his throat and fingers twisted into that unruly mane that has the audacity to call itself “hair.”

“You want my neck instead? Do you, Lucian?” He tilts his head to one side in invitation. “Do it.”

Marrok's heartbeat calls to him, a slow and steady throb without fear or dread.

All restraint is lost.

Lucian sinks his fangs into the flesh, the hot pulse of life rushing over his tongue, filling his senses and reviving him like no mortal blood can manage. Marrok tastes of savage magic, of wildness and defiance, as rich as the finest indulgence and bolder than any wine could ever muster.

He takes only enough to bring warmth to his skin and quell the odd chill that seems to have settled deep within his bones somehow.

But Marrok does not move away.

“You didn't take much.”

“It was enough.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

Already, the small punctures on Marrok's throat have begun to heal, a true testament to his preternatural nature.

Lucian doesn't bother to wipe the blood from his lips or address the fact that it has left a wet trail down his chest. Instead, he slips the few remaining buttons away from their holes and allows the shirt to slide from his shoulders and onto the ground. The way Marrok’s gaze follows his every move is more than appreciative, it is predatory. Hungry for a different manner of satiation.

“Is there something that you desire to taste?” Lucian glances over his shoulder, strands of his flaxen hair adhered to his cheek by Marrok’s own essence. “Something you wish to devour?”

Marrok snorts. “Fuck you.”

But the words are a teasing retort and not the anger that had so fiercely gripped him earlier.

Marrok stalks him like prey, his stare steady and penetrating, head lowered, breathing deep and controlled. Before he can pin Lucian to the bed, the vampire is suddenly behind him, an arm around his throat in a reverse strangle hold.

“Since you have such concern for my well being, mon amour, I will satisfy your curiosities.” He hefts the much larger, snarling werewolf into his arms, as if he is a mere wisp of a being and tosses him onto the bed where he lands with a most ungraceful thud.

It is Lucian who does the holding now, pinning Marrok's shoulders to the bed sheets.

“Ah, je suis désolée.” Lucian chuckles with dark repose as he runs a finger down Marrok's nose, pausing to tap the tip. “Did you want to be on top?”

To his rather sadistic amusement, Marrok does not struggle, choosing instead to lace his fingers behind his head and stretch beneath Lucian's body.

“Nah,” Marrok says with a smirk. “I'll just chill here and let you please me.”

He does, however, fist a handful of Lucian's blood-and-flaxen waves, jerking his head to one side. “Don't bite my dick.”

Lucian laughs with such improper lunacy that the birds perched on the balcony railing scatter into the night sky.

_____________________

TBC . . . .

Mon dieu - My god Oui. J'adore votre folie - Yes. I adore your madness Mon cher - My dear/My darling Ferme ta gueule- Shut your mouth Putain de merde - Fucking hell (or what the fuck, in other contexts) Mon amour - My love Je suis désolée - I am sorry

#EFF writes #Lucian d'Alarie #Marrok Rafe #Never underestimate your supernatural partner #Even if they are unwell #THIS FRENCH FUCKER OH MY GODS #I can't #Yes I make bloodlust sexy lol

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tinukis · 8 months

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acesan and lusan are very cool and enjoyable i love both a lot

but what about sabosan.... think about it (please)

both similar in multiple ways

born in a royal/noble family and absolutely Loathes them and wished they were never born from such family

aesthetically they fit rlly well

certainly ace can understand sanji's self worth issues Deeply. and luffy well... he was basically the light sanji needed. luffy didn't like him just for his cooking, but he was especially interested because of sanji's kindness

sabo can heavily relate to royal/noble problems and refuses to ever be considered one. AND THEY BOTH PROTECTED THE ONES THEY LOVED BY STICKING TO THEIR FAMILY'S SIDE.

and also the uncanny similarities to both his brothers ace and luffy... ace especially now that sabo has inherited his powers. they're both different though. sabo seems a little bit more proper and has this unique charm. and the love/care he has for luffy is so... fond? he seems to have a more tamer way of approaching things (till sanji realizes hes not That tame and is a hot head/rages easy.)

sabo has a goal and he's somewhat more kept together than his other brothers. hes resolve is outstanding as a freedom fighter AND hes the second commander of the revolutionary army??? fucking SWOONS (ok lowkey this just mostly me on my knees for sabo but not my fault im in love w each ASL brothers)

and like just... imagine sabo and sanji meeting for the first time. sabo introduces himself to sanji similar to what ace did.... and lighting up his cigarette but maybe a little closer 👀

sabo walking up to sanji, who is a bit startled with sabo's height- towering over him... and his finger is light with fire and just casually lights sanji's cigarette with the softest smile he's ever seen what the FUCK

and sabo's reaction to sanji yelling at luffy and usopp is a little different yet similar to ace's too... sabo chuckling and saying "hey why don't you go a little easier on 'em? they're still young." he just sounds so sweet... and in his eyes you could just tell he's reminiscing on the past.

"if i did, they'd never learn... not that they ever learn."

"would you like a hand?"

im so hfjhwmdhwjwww

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