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Darrien stood at the window in his room, looking out over the moonlit yard through the thick curtains and age-stained glass. The bushes cast oblong shadows across the grass. Snow that had fallen all through the afternoon into the chilly dusk, and it caught the darkness in hills and ridges, creating jagged peaks amongst the rounder shapes of the foliage.

At 700 he was not an ancient vampire, but many would still venture to call him old. Tall, lean, with thick dark hair that fell to his shoulders, striking angular features and a dark black beard, trimmed close. He had an imposing gaze that could instantly stop whatever crossed his path, and anyone who saw this man in his long dark cape with his blazing eyes and thick European accent typically pegged him as something supernatural without a second thought.

"Master?"

He turned to find his familiar, Tucker, idling in the doorway, hand on the frame, filling the space with his soft form and steady heartbeat. He was a large man in his late 20s, with dark curly hair and deeply tanned skin that teased Darrien with thoughts of sunlight and warmth. Tucker peered at him from the hall, the white of his buttoned shirt stark against the darkness of the room. Professional as always with his attire.

Darrien waved him in, gritting his teeth. Tucker had been pressuring him to talk about the nature of their relationship lately, but it was a non-starter. A conversation about feelings Darrien held no interest in having.

"Yes, what is it? Can't you see I'm busy?"

Tucker scoffed at this, and Darrien wondered at what point his familiar had gotten so much gall. Probably around the same time he'd started wearing nicer clothes and walking with more confidence and speaking up for himself. Around the same time Darrien had truly realized how close to the precipice they both were.

"We need to talk."

"No, we don't," Darrien countered immediately, waving his hand and turning back to brood at the window. "There is nothing to say about anything. I am completely out of words."

Tucker was pretty sure the vampire had never run out of shit to say in the entirety of his 700-plus years on this earth, but he bit back a sigh. He wanted, ever so badly, to help. That's all he'd ever wanted, really. When it came to Darrien, servitude was his default. First through duty, but as the years went on, it had become a need that settled into the marrow of his bones.

Tucker reached a hand out and settled it on Darrien's upper arm.

"Darrien, ple--"

That was it. Something about the use of his name rang hollow through Darrien's chest. He whipped around, teeth bared, and Tucker's hand was at his throat in the same instant, his eyes wide with surprise. Darrien hesitated, and that was all it took. Two skilled warriors playing chess. There was no need to continue, they already knew who would win.

Darrien could feel leather against his throat, the warmth of Tucker's hands beneath his thick leather gloves. He looked down Tucker's forearm, hard and flexed. Toned from years of physical labor, hauling corpses and burying secrets. The fingers against his skin pressed with a precision that spoke of what damage could truly be done.

Tucker grit his teeth, relaxing the free hand that had instinctively gone to the weapon at his waist, but not letting go of his Master's throat. Their eyes were locked. Tucker's brows drew inward as he tried, so very hard, to understand what he was supposed to do.

"Why are you pushing me away?" Tucker whispered.

Because you're going to leave anyway, was what Darrien wanted to say.

Instead he pressed forward into Tucker's grip, choking himself. His teeth were no longer bared, lips slipping back over his fangs. Tucker gave way, warily, letting Darrien come closer.

Darrien moved slowly, his hands lifting upward, palms raised in submission. His fingers grasped with such gentleness at the front of Tucker's buttoned shirt that he barely felt the tug.

And then he was moving, willingly forward, to meet Darrien halfway for the first time in his life.

Tucker's eyes could focus on nothing else but Darrien's mouth, surrounded by the darkness of his beard. His own lips parted in imitation, and there was a sharp intake of air that was cut short. He dropped his hand and closed his eyes, and Darrien kissed him.

Darrien pulled him now, roughly, hands balling into his shirt, straining the buttons and pressing his knuckles into the soft skin of Tucker's chest. Tucker returned the kiss, stepping forward. Darrien matched the movement until his back was pressing into the cool glass of the window.

His head tilted back and he hissed softly. Tucker whined, chasing him, arms coming up to wrap around his neck, fingers shifting beneath Darrien's hair. He was hungry for this. Starving. Tucker felt a bright red sunrise blooming in his chest, and it occurred to him only now how long he'd been standing lost in the dim purple light of dawn.

Darrien fed off the energy, dipping his head down and nipping at Tucker's lower lip. The first time his teeth drew lightly across the sensitive skin, causing Tucker to shiver. The second time his fang tore in, dragging in a wicked line that split cleanly. Tucker gasped, swollen lips parting wide.

He pulled back to look at his work. Blood mixed with spit, dancing across Tucker's lower teeth like watercolor. A rivulet trailed down his chin, and Darrien watched until it pooled, gathering and falling in scattershot against his chest.

Tucker looked up at him, eyes half-lidded, breath coming heavy.

"Master," he said, then swallowed hard. Tucker's mouth tasted foreign. Darrien smelled like a storm. Darrien tasted like blood and salt and dirt. Tucker almost choked on it.

Before he could say anything else, Tucker was being pushed back by firm hands at his shoulders. He braced himself, his back colliding with Darrien's closed coffin in the center of the room. The frame shuddered slightly with the force of the impact, but pinned him dutifully in place.

"Fuck," Tucker gasped. He reached up to his face, smearing blood at his lips and wincing at the pain. It painted a messy arc from his chin, up the side of his mouth and across his cheek.

Darrien growled, low in his chest, pressing closer. It was a feral, inhuman sound that made Tucker groan in response. Fear churned up something sharp and instinctive in his chest, burning and melting into hot, thick arousal in the pit of his stomach.

Darrien's leg swept out, boots guiding Tucker's feet apart, rough and urgent. Tucker complied, and was rewarded with Darrien's upper thigh pressing into his pulsing cock.

And then he was grasping at Darrien. One hand settled into the white fabric of his shirt, staining blood into the ruffles. The other was snatched by the wrist, and Darrien held it between them, pinning Tucker by the waist with his free hand and thrusting his thigh up into him in quick bursts.

Tucker's hips tried so very desperately to buck, but Darrien held him, staring into his eyes as he squirmed. He watched his Master lift his arm to his lips. They drew back, exposing brilliant fangs once more.

The grip on his waist loosened, and Tucker pressed down and forward, gasping at the sudden change in pressure against his aching sex. In the same moment, Darrien sank his teeth into the inside of Tucker's forearm, puncturing him in one quick strike before pulling away and repeating the process up his arm in a messy trail. Tucker cried out, twisting in pain, and Darrien kept his leg pressing upward, almost lifting Tucker in the act.

Somewhere in his hazy mind, Tucker was connecting the dots. A decade of pain and pleasure, wrapped up in a tangle of fingers and moans and rough marks of ownership. What did he want? Was it this? Had he ever in his life simply taken what he wanted?

The pain in his arm was sharp, rushing upward in waves like a breeze flowing across him. The sensation at his crotch was a different matter altogether. He was practically on his tiptoes now, hips jerking forward and back. Tucker's legs shook with the effort, but he couldn't stop himself from chasing the sensation. How very like him.

Small pathetic noises were tumbling from Tucker, punctuated by a gasp whenever Darrien landed another strike. His arm was a patchwork of bite marks and trailing blood. Darrien reached the soft skin of Tucker's inner elbow and pulled back to run his broad tongue up the bloodied skin in one long, agonizing swipe that made Tucker moan.

Darrien lowered his leg, settling Tucker onto the balls of his feet, and he whimpered in both relief and dissatisfaction at the loss of sensation, legs shaking unsteady beneath him. He was soaked, he could feel it, wet and sticky on the fabric of his underwear that pulled away as he shifted.

Now he could see Darrien was just as affected, a telling tenting of his pants that Tucker reacted to viscerally. A shaky breath escaped him and he bit his sore, split lip, feeling a pressure in the top of his head that mixed in such a lovely way with the coil of arousal in his midsection.

Darrien released his wrist and leaned in to kiss him again, taking Tucker's face between his hands and sucking long and hard at his still-bleeding lip. Tucker's hand slid down, tugging at the waist of Darrien's pants in a needy way that made the vampire smirk against his lips.

The room was muffled and quiet, filled only with Tucker's heavy breathing and the noisy, wet sucking of Darrien at his lip and the occasional bump of his back against the wood of Darrien's coffin.

"I need," Tucker murmured, but he wasn't sure how to finish that. Wasn't sure how to ask his Master for something after so long. After a decade of yearning. Of wanting. Of needing. Of serving.

For all his obliviousness, Darrien understood. That much was clear from the way his slender hand slid easily down the front of Tucker's pants, meeting his wetness with firm, probing fingers. Tucker almost fell apart completely. He leaned back into the coffin and Darrien continued to kiss him as he parted Tucker, middle finger flicking upwards against his engorged cock. Tucker bucked, an ache rolling up his body as he ground into Darrien's open palm.

Darrien's hand pulled back, wet and glistening, and then his fingertips were pressing to Tucker's lips, which parted obediently. Darrien's fingers passed into his mouth, running against his bottom lip and teeth, bumping across his lower canines. They lingered there for a moment, pushing down into the sharp enamel with a curious pressure.

Tucker's tongue ran along the bottom of Darrien fingers, and he tasted himself, salty and heady. His lips closed, and he sucked in long, hard pulls. Darrien watched him with a fascination, mouth open slightly, tongue unconsciously flicking upwards in mimicry, a shudder running through him.

He started to pull back but Tucker reached for his wrist, turning Darrien's hand as he slipped off his fingers to give his knuckles big, messy, open mouthed kisses. Blood and drool smeared across them both, and Tucker cleaned it all with an eagerness that made Darrien achingly hard. Darrien's free hand dropped, and he began to rub himself in slow circles as he watched Tucker's mouth against his skin.

There was a shifting, then, in the dynamic. A desperation that was passing between one to the other. A common need. Tucker gave one last wet kiss to Darrien's fingers, and then he was reaching down his front, unbuttoning his dark slacks as best he could without taking his eyes away from Darrien's face. As Tucker tugged his pants over his boots, Darrien followed suit, pulling his own shirt over his head in one fluid motion.

By the time Tucker was done with that simple act, Darrien was nearly naked, kneeling in front of him and burying his face in Tuckers crotch. He lapped at him hungrily, and Tucker fell back against the coffin once more, fisting a hand into Darrien's soft hair. His head tilted back, legs shifting wider to give better access. He was so hard he ached, and when he felt Darrien's beard brush against his sensitive cock he jerked and whined.

Darrien's hand reached up and dug into his hip to pin him. In the same moment his head dipped down, hair pulling at Tucker's grip, and he sank his fangs into Guilermo's thigh. Tucker shook, legs threatening to give way. He was so close to something he couldn't quite reach.

Another bite, and Tucker was openly panting and moaning, tugging uselessly at Darrien's hair, trying to guide him back.

"Please please please please," he whimpered.

"Say what it is that you want Tucker."

He was surprised to hear Darrien's voice, and the hum against his thigh made him shake even harder. Tucker was dripping now. He could feel it against his legs and thighs, painted in broad strokes by Darrien's lips and beard, smeared along him in patches of blood and glistening clear sex.

Darrien was here, on his knees in front of him, asking what he wanted. He was stroking himself as he sucked at Tucker's thigh, and the sight stole another gasping moan from Tucker. His head was spinning. How could this man ever think Tucker would leave him again? How had Tucker ever left before?

"I want you to suck my cock," he finally managed, then swallowed hard. "Please."

Darrien complied. Head tilting up, he caught Tucker's eyes as he ran his tongue along the underside of his erection in one long, agonizing upward drag of his tongue. Tears pricked at the corner's of Tucker's eyes as he panted down, trying his best to stay put. But when Darrien's lips wrapped around him, it was only his strength that kept Tucker from falling, fingers digging into the soft skin of his waist.

"Fuck... Darrien!" he cried out, and Darrien hummed.

A wave of pleasure rolled up Tucker's body, mixing so nicely with the hot pain in his arm and thighs, and the vice grip at his waist. Darrien began to suck, nodding his head in a slow, steady rhythm. Tucker had to stop himself from fisting too tightly into Darrien's soft hair, uncurling his fingers and encouraging Darrien's movements with a gentler but desperate eagerness.

Darrien continued to stroke himself as Guilermo fucked his mouth, his own hips stuttering in little thrusts as he sped up his movements bit by bit. There was a pressure building inside of Tucker, and suddenly it was growing, bearing down on him, and he was shoving Darrien unceremoniously into himself, cumming with a force that drenched them both. Tucker felt sharp fangs prickling at the edges of his sensitive skin, and he cried out, an uneven sound that fell apart into a moan halfway through.

Darrien stayed put, letting Tucker come down for a moment, his senses filled with the taste and scent of this man. He began to lap gently at him again, avoiding his oversensitive cock for now, and Gullermo let out broken mewls and moans at the sensation, his head stuffed with the ocean sounds of his orgasm, tilted back as if to look at the stars.

Tucker realized he was gently petting Darrien's head now, and he looked down to see the vampire peeking up at him, tongue working against Tucker's wetness as he humped into his own hand with a new desperation.

"C'mere," Tucker murmured, his voice husky and low. He gave a light tug to Darrien's hair, and he was at his mouth in an instant, kissing him with wet, warm, salty lips.

Darrien's erection bobbed between them, and Tucker took it in his hand, earning a groan and a growl. He began to stroke Darrien, base to tip, swiping his thumb across the soft head and collecting precum on each upward journey of his hand. Darrien's hips tilted, desperate for more.

Reaching behind him, finally free from Darrien's hold at his hip, Tucker lifted the top of the coffin, exposing the fur-lined inside. A thrill went through him as he turned back to look down into it. Darrien kissed at his throat, and Tucker's eyes followed the gentle path of the fur, pressed at a subtle dip in the outline of his Master.

Suddenly he was lifted up by hands at his ass, and he gave a yelp as Darrien transferred them both from the floor to the coffin, Tucker's knees folding as he settled into the soft furs, kneeling over Darrien. He reached out, setting his palms on Darrien's chest to steady himself. Darrien rocked his hips upward, and suddenly his hardness was slipping across Tucker's slicked entrance and cock.

"W-wait," Tucker moaned, hands fisting against Darrien's chest. Even as he said it, his own hips were jerking forward, meeting Darrien's cock. He could feel the sharp pain of the bites on his thighs mixing with sweat and movement, but it was nothing to the pressure at his groin as their erections rutted together.

Darrien kept his hands on Tucker's lower back, urging him forward, frotting roughly against him. The furs muffled the wet sounds, but their moans and grunts bounced around in Tucker's head, fueling his arousal.

And then Darrien was slipping inside of him, messy and accidental at first, then earnestly as Tucker rutted down into him, chasing the sensation of fullness. Darrien groaned, struggling to control his movements as Tucker settled onto him in quick little thrusts.

"Fuck me," Tucker finally whimpered, and that was all Darrien needed.

Darrien's hands dug into Tucker's waist, pulling him down onto himself as tightly as he could, grinding up into the wet warmth of his sex. Gulliermo's cock felt so sensitive and exposed to the air, and he reached down to rub himself as Darrien began to thrust upwards into him, head falling back in pleasure. Tucker bucked down, meeting his humping, and soon they were in a rhythm, shaking the coffin and pulling moans and gasps from each of them.

Tucker gave up stroking, choosing to lean back and brace himself on the coffin so he could work his hips better. The change in angle made Darrien growl beneath him, hands slipping back from Tucker's hips to grab his ass, hard, digging long nails into the soft skin. Tucker tightened around him, causing him to groan.

"I am close," Darrien warned breathily, hips stuttering at the sudden extra pressure.

Tucker whined, still leaning back, squeezing around Darrien. Darrien could see the bite marks along his thighs, shaking with each upward thrust. Tucker's cock was pressing down into the skin above his own with each meeting of their hips, causing him to squirm. Darrien released one hand from his ass and reached for his wrist, bringing his bloody forearm up to pepper in kisses and licks, covering his lips in red.

Tucker watched him in utter awe.

"Cum inside me Master."

Darrien rutted up in hard, sharp bursts of his hips, chasing his orgasm. Tucker saw stars and gripped desperately at the coffin edges. When Darrien came he could feel it, hot and thick, filling him. Below him Darrien's back arched and he gripped Tucker so tightly that blood welled up in pinpricks beneath his nails. His mouth fell open in a gasping moan.

"Tucker," Darrien rumbled, emptying himself inside him.

Tucker was pressing down, milking Darrien's cock and grinding his own sensitive sex into the rough skin of his groin. His bloody thighs left streaks and marks against Darrien's hips.

Another orgasm washed over Tucker, and he stiffened over Darrien, fingers gripping the coffin to steady himself on shaking thighs. Darrien fell back, spent, feeling Tucker tighten once more. His head swam at the overwhelming sensations and the sight of his familiar, impaled on him, crying out in that low, husky voice and squeezing his eyes shut as he came for him again.

"Master," he finally whimpered, completely undone, and Darrien felt something in his heart flutter. He adjusted, pulling his softening cock out from inside Tucker and shifting onto his side so Tucker could lay out in the tight space. Blood covered his chin and arm and thighs, and Darrien began kissing those spots, running his tongue over the marks to help stop the bleeding. It was soothing, and Tucker sighed gratefully, not opening his eyes as Darrien worked.

By the time Darrien was satisfied, Tucker had fallen into a half-sleep, dozing with heavy breath. Darrien frowned down at the sight. The fur lining of his coffin had become messy with blood and sweat and cum, matting the fur in patches. He didn't envy Tucker having to clean this up. But perhaps he would let him sleep for a little while. At least while he was asleep he wasn't pestering him to talk about feelings.

"You may rest here for now Tucker," Darrien murmured, lifting Tucker to readjust, and laying back down beside him.

Tucker squirmed sleepily, throwing one arm across Darrien's chest. The vampire let himself enjoy this. The steady rhythm of Tucker's heartbeat. The soft sound of his breathing. The warmth of his skin against Darrien's chest and side. The marks of his Master up and down his arm and thighs. It was easy, this way, to imagine Tucker might truly want to stay with him forever.

"Thank you Darrien," Tucker said, sleepily.

Darrien ached.

His name hadn't rung hollow that time.