#this is also maridan FEEDING prompt :) :)

[monstersinthecosmos]

Vamptember Day 20 - Blind Date

{vercetti technicolor - golden taurus}

“Go straight home,” Marius says. He squeezes Daniel’s shoulder and nods towards the door of the bar, out towards the street. “I have something to attend to. I won’t be too long.”

Marius’s cell phone buzzes from his pocket, and Daniel thinks he understands. Some guy Marius is going to go meet, after this. 

“You didn’t hide it very well,” Daniel observes. Voice flat—words are all he can really manage. Marius’s eyes narrow as he studies Daniel’s face, but he doesn’t pretend not to know what Daniel means. 

“Go home,” he says quietly.

What a generous leash Marius gives him. 

Just enough. Just a little trust. And he watches as Marius draws back, watches the way the phone lights up his face as he checks the message, watches the way he goes to push his hair out of his face, by reflex, even though he’s cut it tonight.

He didn’t hide it very well, the way he’s been courting this one. Then again, Marius never hides things as well as he thinks he does. It all leaks out of him when he’s not paying attention. When he’s too hungry.

And he hadn’t fed at the bar tonight, Daniel realizes. He’d hung back as Daniel drank from three different patrons, but had never taken for himself, had he? 

Daniel can’t remember the last time Marius fed, actually. Can’t remember the last time his skin was warm when he’d offered Daniel his blood.

God, what does Marius even say to lure these people? 

His own phone vibrates in his jacket—he forgets about it sometimes, keeps leaving it home, but Marius must have slipped it in there for him—and his eyes hurt as he pulls it out, stares at the notification burning on the little green screen.

“I messaged our address to you,” Marius says. “Just in case. You can show it to a cab driver if you need to. Will you be all right getting home?”

Daniel rolls his eyes. He flips the phone open, just long enough to turn it off. Marius’s jaw sets in annoyance at the cunty little way it snaps closed. 

“Fine,” Marius mutters. Eyes cold with impatience, for such a brief moment. He masks it immediately, embarrassed that he might lose his cool. Just the hunger, though, wearing him down around the edges. “I’ll see you soon.”

And he’s heading out of the bar first. Like he’s making a point or something. How generous of him.

Daniel scowls at his back, still tasting his victims in his mouth. Still in the grasp of their swoon. Not really even angry about any of this, too warm to be, more curious than anything. Wondering where Marius is going to go, where he’ll meet this unfortunate, how long the ruse will last. 

Marius walks like a human. Hands stuffed in his pockets, his shoulders hunched against the night chill. He blends in perfectly, looks so normal as he crosses the street and hovers by the corner, looking up at the window above one of the storefronts. Apartments up there, and the silhouette of someone waiting for him. Marius offers a little wave, and puts his phone to his ear, and the silhouette recedes. Daniel steps out onto the sidewalk, and stays a safe distance back, never crosses the road. If he focuses, he can almost hear the phone call. The man telling Marius the door code, inviting him up. Marius tucking the phone to his shoulder as he keys it in, then slips inside.

“Little Drink my ass,” Daniel mutters. 

Sickening to think about. Strange mix of horror and jealousy. He wonders if Marius still senses him out here, watching, if he can hear Daniel’s heartbeat mixed in with all the humans. If Marius would stop what he’s doing, leave his victim behind, if Daniel began to lose it again.

A Daniel of a few years ago might make a scene. He wants to scale the side of the building, up to the window, but there are too many witnesses. Too much nightlife here. He imagines it, though. Joining Marius in there. He wants to watch. 

Wind sweeps over him, slices beneath the collar of his jacket. Not so fatal to him as it might be to a Daniel of the past, but uncomfortable enough to jolt his senses. Freezing off the river a couple blocks away. He rubs his eyes, wishing he’d see a silhouette again—maybe even two—but the window remains the same empty yellow rectangle. Looks warm inside.

Odd to know that Marius is up there, doing whatever he’s doing. And people are down here, drinking, dancing, working. Smoking cigarettes and complaining. Making phone calls. Looking for bathrooms. They don’t know how close they are to this creature, they don’t feel his danger.

He considers going home. He could walk, or steal a car, or call a cab. Contrary to Marius’s fussing, Daniel does know the way. It’s been a long time since he got lost. Things are different now. And he’s cold and he doesn’t want to be around the humans anymore, doesn’t want to listen to their grubby little thoughts. He could light a fire and pick one of Marius’s books to read and change into pajamas. And he could light Marius’s scented candles, or use his jacuzzi, or raid his DVD collection. 

Or he could go into the studio. There are still some kits he never started. The idea sets his teeth on edge, makes his brain feel fuzzy. He has to look down at his dirty sneakers on the sidewalk to make sure he hasn’t lifted into the air, like one of the ancients, because he can’t feel the ground beneath him. 

Marius fusses, and can be a pain in the ass, but Daniel knows he’s been hard to care for. He never admits it, but he appreciates the way Marius tries. Even tonight, when they both know Daniel’s still shaky, the way he chose to let Daniel out of his sight.

And suddenly he feels untethered like this. Like, maybe he should wait here. Not out of nosiness like he’d thought, just a few minutes ago, but because he does’t think he can stomach being in Marius’s huge house all by himself. Unsure how quickly he might slip backwards. The cold air out here at least keeps him focused.

He leans back against the building, eyes locked on the empty window across the street. He imagines—he hopes—that Marius can’t hear him from up there, or isn’t trying to, maybe thinks Daniel went home. Maybe too absorbed in the kill to worry about it. But he tries to focus, all he same, tries to lock his thoughts away. It’s easy, while he’s out here in the cold, to feel grateful, to feel homesick, to want Marius to come back down, but it’s a little too raw to admit. Marius doesn’t need to know. 

So time passes.

Maybe an hour, he isn’t sure. He tries to track where the moon is in the sky, to remind himself to stay tethered. Considers checking the clock on his phone but never brings himself to turn it back on. The window doesn’t change. He crosses his arms over his chest, trying to hang onto his victims’ warmth as the night gets colder. 

Or maybe two hours. 

How long could it possibly take? 

And maybe he should leave. Or scale up the building to see through he window. Or break the lock on the door downstairs, and let himself in. He thinks once he’s in the building he could follow the eerie low thud of Marius’s heartbeat. 

The bar is even starting to quiet down. People laughing into the quiet street as they spill out and go home.

He considers it, really. Stands up straighter, and approaches the curb. Even looks both ways for cars.

But then Marius is opening the door, glancing up and down the sidewalk before stepping out.

Even from the across the street, Daniel can see the color in his cheeks. The faint glow of sweat, the way his skin looks dewy and alive in the streetlights. He even sniffles the cold air like a mortal as he lugs a suitcase through the doorway.

His jacket is closed up all the way. Daniel’s ever seen him wear it like that, zipped up to his chin. A scarf spills around the collar, and Daniel’s never seen that, either. Marius must have taken it from his date. And the gloves. And the suitcase. And… his jeans? He’s wearing jeans? Just little too big on him, so that the hems are dragging on the ground.

Daniel breathes in slowly, tucking his thoughts away. Not just all the vulnerability, but the way the thirst hits him as he studies the palpable heat in Marius’s face. He looks so fucking fed.

Marius looks over towards him, unsurprised. Breath forms a cloud in front of his face as he sighs—christ, he must be so warm. Daniel wants to embrace him, wants to feel it. Wants to put his hands on Marius’s bare chest. Feel it there beneath the surface. 

And what’s that expression? Something else Daniel’s never seen him wear. 

The way he doesn’t meet Daniel’s eyes, as Daniel crosses the street to meet him. The way the human line between his brows flares back to life. The way, for once, he doesn’t fill the silence with some sterile condescending bullshit. 

His keys jangle in his free hand as he leads the way to the car, the suitcase wheels grinding along behind them. Daniel has never really seen him fidget, he doesn’t think.

“You’re acting like I caught you jerking off,” Daniel says, as they reach the car. And is Marius blushing? But he doesn’t dignify it with a response as he pops the trunk and sets the suitcase inside. It looks so light, the way Marius handles it, but Daniel sees how it bulges at the seams. Knows there’s two hundred pounds of bloodless meat inside. He can smell it.

“Daniel, please,” Marius mumbles.

Quiet on the drive back. Doesn’t even turn the radio on. Doesn’t blink as he takes all the  mountain curves through the woods, back up to the house.

“Who was that guy?” Daniel asks. His voice is flat, the best he can do while he tries to keep his feelings safe.

“No one.”

“Evildoer?”

“Daniel…”

Not annoyed, not building to a lecture. Daniel’s never seen Marius so ashamed. 

A Daniel of the past might prod more. His voice might have more affect. For a sharp, chilling moment he remembers the animated way he’d interrogated Armand in the past, and wonders if that drive is still inside. For later, maybe.

Marius sniffles again, so glutted that his nose is running. He turns his head towards his window so that Daniel won’t stare as he wipes it on his victim’s scarf.

What are you like when you kill? Daniel wonders. It sends the same bolt of arousal down his spine that he used to get with Armand. Armand, showing up in their rooms an hour after sunset, his skin feverish, stolen jacket smelling like someone else. When Daniel was alive it used to get him hard. 

The jealousy feels almost the same, he realizes. Unsure who he’s jealous of, though.

He’s not paying attention as Marius pulls up to the house, as he clicks the garage door opener and slows to pull in. He squints against the fluorescent light in the garage, then turns to watch how it spills over Marius’s face. God, he looks so different like this.

“Why don’t you go run a bath?” Marius asks as he shuts the car off. “I’ll come up soon.”

It’s a dismissal. Daniel watches through the side mirror as Marius pops the trunk, effortlessly lifts out the suitcase. He’ll be taking it to the incinerator, Daniel knows that. He’s never used it, since he’s been staying here. Little Drinks, after all. Even Marius with the Little Drinks, trying to set a good example. But he always sort of knew what it was there for. 

He sits in the car for a moment, even after Marius closes the trunk and rolls the suitcase towards the utility room. He sits there long enough for the dome light to turn off, for the engine to stop clicking while it cools down. Beyond the plain wooden door he hears Marius unzipping the suitcase, and hears the creak of the incinerator’s hinges, and hears Marius’s disappointed sigh.

And a Daniel of the past… 

It depends, he supposes. He exits the car, shuts it quietly, looks between the two doors ahead of him. The door of the utility room, with the incinerator and the circuit breaker and extra cans of house paint. And the door at the top of the steps, leading into their kitchen. Warm and normal in there and he could continue to the top floor, to get a bath going. Go soak in it and wait. Or he could steal Marius’s books. Or use his credit card to buy something useless online. Or throw himself back into the craft room.

But no, Molloy. None of that.

We move forward.

He doesn’t knock, but Marius probably heard him approach. He isn’t startled as Daniel enters the room, and he doesn’t look up, but also doesn’t hide what he’s doing.

Feeding all the pieces into the fire. 

Daniel hovers near the door, watching. Marius’s jacket is gone already, and the gloves. His shirt, finally drying stiff, is still plastered red against the lines of his chest. It looks like he washed his hands, but there’s still blood beneath his fingernails.

And bedsheets next, at the bottom of the suitcase. And the pants Marius had been wearing earlier, soaked. Marius peels his shirt off and bathes in the warmth for a moment, and despite having a witness he holds the fabric to his face to breathe in. Once, twice, and then he tosses it inside. 

Daniel’s heart races.

He comes closer, quietly, maybe out of respect. And Marius doesn’t flinch when Daniel reaches to touch him around his waist, as he folds himself against Marius’s bare back. The smell of blood is so strong this close, from all the places it’s sticking to him. 

Who the fuck was this guy.

Frightening to imagine, the way it had been with Armand. And both of them always so buttoned up and proper, so proud of never spilling a drop. Even now, even on their team, Daniel still doesn’t get to know what happens.

His lips press to Marius’s throat, enough warning that Marius could stop him if he wanted to. Marius’s shoulders go rigid, and his hands cover his face, but he doesn’t resist as Daniel sinks in.

Hot like a human, the blood barely metabolized yet. It shoots against the roof of Daniel’s mouth and Marius shudders. His shoulder blades flex against Daniel’s chest as Daniel takes the first swallow, his hands sweeping across Marius’s hips to pull him closer. He’s cushy everywhere, his skin so alive, and his soft midsection gives in places it usually doesn’t. 

Marius’s voice pitches an octave higher than usual, pathetic squeak crawling from his throat from the pain, or the shame, maybe even the thrill of penetration. Another first; sharing blood has always been so perfunctory with Marius, but he seems so affected now. The hair on the back of his neck raises where Daniel can feel it.

How do you do it when you’re alone? Daniel thinks, coaxing the answer out, tonguing at the open wounds to guide it along.

It’s been weeks, looking for this one. Daniel kinda knew that already. Had sensed it in the house. But it becomes clearer now, like adjusting a TV antenna until the picture comes in. He presses his palm to Marius’s belly, cradling the heat, and hits the sweet spot. The information throbs between them as he swallows.

Found him online. And Marius had watched him. Confirmed that he deserved it. Flirted with him over IM, even talked him through an orgasm the night before last. Daniel hears the man’s voice, through Marius’s memories, moaning lewd too close to the phone, so that the sound was crunchy in Marius’s ear.

And all that swearing, up and down, all the lectures. Little Drinks, Little Drinks. You can live off of them, Daniel. No one has to be hurt. Let me show you, Daniel.

But you were fucking starving, Daniel thinks. His fingernails graze through the hair below Marius’s navel, that leads down towards his waistband. Marius’s heart skips and there’s a subsequent squirt of blood. 

Marius does it on purpose, doesn’t he? Denies himself. Lets the hunger build. Amuses his ward with Little Drinks, and lets himself be drained after, so that his veins hurt when he’s falling asleep. He lets it build, and isn’t sure why. Just something that’s happened, crept up on him like everything else. 

The man was handsome. 

Unafraid of Marius, even though Marius wasn’t trying to put him at ease. Too comfortable with the danger, too familiar with it. Happy to let Marius into the apartment, and happy to kiss him, happy to offer him a drink because he’s been out in the cold—please, come closer to the heater, let me pour you a whisky—so unbothered by the icy hands. He doesn’t question Marius’s hunger, can’t feel it the way Daniel does, doesn’t understand the ache of desperation as Marius asks to see the bedroom.

And what then.

The images flicker as Marius’s shoulders tense. Trying to keep it to himself. Stomach burning with shame so palpable that Daniel tastes it. Daniel remembers a short while ago, standing in the street, staring up at the empty window, and it’s as if he can see inside it now, like he’s climbed the walls, like his hands are pressed to the cold glass.

Marius squeezing the man’s arms biceps too tightly, leading him to the bed. Leaving bruises beneath his fingertips. The man stumbles backwards but Marius doesn’t let him fall, just sits him down on the corner of the mattress. One knee presses between the man’s legs, hard enough that he shouldn’t like it, but he moans as he grinds himself into it.

Marius’s eyes shining in the ugly yellow light. His teeth as he leans in. Eerie sheen of his skin.

Predator.

Daniel closes his eyes. The heat of the incinerator breathes gently against his face. Marius’s blood coats the inside of his mouth.

But it wasn’t just killing. 

And not just the teasing. 

The connection strains between them again as Marius fights against it. Other images cutting in, unrelated, too deliberate. Trying hard to control it, but Daniel sees enough. 

It’s all compressed, all jumbled together. He’ll be unpacking it for the rest of the night, he thinks.

But it’s Marius, a moment later, wrist deep in the man’s chest cavity.

And fuck, the heat of it. Enough that Marius had moaned out loud into the empty apartment, dizzy with pleasure he felt the ribs crack. Nearly feral as he tore the man’s shirt off and licked a stream of blood from his stomach. 

Seeing red.

The wound in Marius’s throat begins to heal, and Daniel wants to bite into it again, but Marius goes stiff. Strong again, himself again, and Daniel is across the room before he realizes that Marius has shaken him off.

He glances at Daniel over his shoulder, an eyebrow quirked in concern. 

It says Sorry and Are you all right? as Daniel regains his balance and smoothes his rumpled jacket down over his hips. 

Odd, watching him there. Some of the color drained from him now, a little closer to normal, as he rearranges his face. Masking up again, the old stoic, as if they’re not standing in a nest of his imperfections.

He’d been bathed in the man’s blood. Red up to his elbows by the end. Sucking at the jagged ends of broken bones, desperate for the marrow. 

“I want to see,” Daniel says, just breathless enough that he’s losing the deadpan.

Marius rubs the healed spot on his neck. Takes half a step back. Exhales slowly, calm and cold again. Boundaries back in place.

He nods towards the door.

“Go.”