**This story contains 18+ content. Read at your own risk**
This was not his bedroom.
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That was the first thing Caleb noticed when he woke up, his head swimming and his entire body feeling like he’d gotten hit by a truck. He was lying, face-down, on a plush red carpet, his cheek pressed deep into the fibers. Not his carpet. Not his bedroom.
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With a monumental effort, he managed to push himself to his hands and knees and flip over into a sitting position.
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Actually, this didn’t seem to be his apartment at all.
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Was he scared?
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…Yes, absolutely. But don’t you dare tell the team. He’d never live that down.
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He was in a living room, he guessed. A very fancy-looking living room. Velvet upholstery, thick carpet, dim lighting. There was a couch, a TV, all very normal living room things.
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Caleb shuddered and took inventory of himself. He was still wearing his favorite Eddie Bauer jeans. He was still wearing his Ohio State Buckeyes hoodie. He was intact, if a little woozy.
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Okay. Gotta get up.
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Bracing one hand on a chaise lounge, he hauled himself to his feet, swaying dangerously. Ugh, was he drunk? No. He wasn’t drunk. He had an exam tomorrow, so he wouldn’t have gotten drunk tonight. Right? Yeah.
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Caleb slammed through a doorway, holding his head in one hand. He couldn’t figure out why he felt like this.
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Dark room. In front of him, was that a person? Caleb nearly jumped out of his skin before he realized he was looking at himself. There was a mirror. Bathroom. Dark bathroom. Same layout as Tommy’s. Dorm bathroom. He was still on campus.107Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbfaEEzAL6h
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He fumbled with the light switch on the wall, wincing as the light stabbed through his skull. When he blinked away the white spots in his vision, he got a good look at himself in the mirror.107Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWN2eO3Lzdw
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His normally tanned skin was pale, his entire face white as a sheet. Dark purple smudged like bruises under his eyes, his blue eyes standing out in stark relief against his skin. His spun-gold hair had red streaked through it, and at first, he thought it was dirt from tonight’s game, but he’d showered, hadn’t he? God, he looked like death warmed over.
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No, Caleb realized, leaning into the mirror, his fingers going to his neck. Two pinpricks, right over his pulse point, still sluggishly oozing blood into his hoodie collar. He looked like he’d been bled dry.
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A door opened and shut in the dorm behind him. Whoever lived here had just come home. Footsteps stopped right behind him and he whirled around, staggering into the doorframe. Black exploded in his vision, and Caleb started going down.
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Strong hands wrapped around his biceps, catching him before he could hit the ground. Somewhere above him, a dark, rough voice murmured “You were supposed to be dead.”
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Well, that was comforting.
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Those strong hands lowered him down onto the closed toilet seat, then slid up to his shoulders, keeping him steady. He blinked, waiting for the dark spots to clear. When they did, he blinked up into the face of OSU’s only Art History major. Caleb only saw the guy in Personal Finances, and sometimes around campus late at night. Amadeo. That was his name. Amadeo. Caleb remembered that well enough.
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What the hell was Caleb doing in Amadeo’s dorm room?
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Amadeo cocked his head to the side, his thumb pressing against the holes in Caleb’s neck. Next thing he knew, Amadeo was licking Caleb’s blood off his thumb.
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Caleb's mouth dropped wide open. “What the fuck?” he squeaked, his voice pitched too high and slurred like he was drunk. “You sicko, that's my blood!” Too loud, his voice was too loud.
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Amadeo pressed a finger to his lips, his expression hardening slightly. “Hush. Don’t talk. I need to think.”
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Caleb was not used to being told what to do, at least not by anyone except his mother and Coach Ramsey. The command surprised him so much, he actually shut up.
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Amadeo went back to studying him, looking him up and down. And then he started pacing, which worried Caleb a bit. Pacing was never good. “I drank enough,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I didn't go into bloodlust, so I know I drank enough.” Amadeo stopped in front of him. “So why aren't you dead?”
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Caleb just blinked at him, unable to figure out what on earth was going on here. Bloodlust? Drank enough? What the heck did that even mean?
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“I could just drain you now, I guess. But that's not exactly ethical. God, why aren't you dead?”
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The fact that he was apparently supposed to be dead didn't make matters any better.
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His confusion must have been plastered all over his face, because Amadeo's expression softened, his dark eyes glinting with something that looked like sympathy.
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“I'm sorry,” he said, his voice wrapping like silk around the words. “You must have a million questions.”
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That tone. Caleb had heard that tone before, in the movies and stuff. Caleb's chin dropped to his chest. “I'm not gonna get any answers, am I?” he mumbled, his voice so, so pathetic.
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Amadeo gave him an apologetic smile. “I'm afraid not, sweetheart,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”
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He stepped closer then, so close Caleb had to look up to see his face. One hand came up to Caleb's forehead, pale fingertips brushing against his hairline.
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Caleb felt a soft, low whine leave his lips, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into the gentle touch. You’d never know it from his reputation around campus, the stories the girls told about him, the whispers in the cheer squad about what a beast he was in the sheets, but… for a quarterback who spent most of his time getting tackled into the dirt, he was a sucker for soft touches. Just the thought of a sweet, gentle caress made him fold.
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…Don’t tell the team about that either.
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Amadeo’s expression softened even further as he watched Caleb melt into his hands. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, threading his hands through Caleb’s hair. “You don’t get this very often, do you?”
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Caleb blinked up at the other man, his vision fuzzy around the edges. All he could see was Amadeo's face, framed by thick black locks that curled over his forehead into his eyes, twin chips of gray ice.
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He closed his eyes again, letting out a soft sound in the negative. No, Caleb didn't get soft. Caleb got hard, and he gave even harder.
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He must have lost more blood than he'd thought, cause right now he was wondering if he even liked ‘hard’ at all.
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Amadeo's fingers brushed Caleb's hair behind his ear, then swept under his chin, tilting his face up. Caleb opened his eyes instinctively, and Amadeo made a soft shushing noise.
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“Don't get worked up, sweetheart,” he soothed, his voice like honey. “You're gonna go to sleep now, okay? Hopefully, you won't remember any of this tomorrow.”
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Caleb let out a noncommittal hum. He wasn’t really listening. He was too busy dragging his tired gaze over Amadeo’s hand as he raked it through those raven locks. Old, tarnished pewter rings adorned his slender fingers, chipped black polish on his nails. Amadeo caught him staring and sighed.
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“Okay, sweetheart. Sleep now.”
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The hand under his chin went back up to his forehead. Amadeo’s other hand came up to cup the back of Caleb's neck, long, elegant fingers curling into the golden curls at the nape of his neck. He was just relaxing into the touch when Amadeo moved, too fast to see, and his vision went black.
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Caleb’s body went slack, and Amadeo caught him easily, sweeping his limp form up into his arms. Caleb's head fell heavily against Amadeo's shoulder, and the black-haired man shook his head. “You're so sweet when you're not being an asshole,” he said to himself. “It's a shame. I almost like you.”
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***
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This was his bedroom.
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That was the first thing Caleb noticed when he woke up, harsh morning light slanting across his pillow. He was in his twin bed, under his favorite blanket, wearing his Buckeyes sweatpants and a soft, worn T-shirt. His head was still swimming, but he didn't feel like he was going to pass out again.
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That was nice.
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Except…
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There was an aching hole in his gut like he was missing something important. Something vital.
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Amadeo.
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It slapped him across the face, hit him like a tackle from Brick, so wholly unexpected it startled a strangled sound out of him. He was crying.
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His desk chair fell over, and Caleb shot upright, eyes fixing on the figure sprawled on the floor. Shannon, the Buckeyes’ running back, jumped to his feet and ran over.
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“Jesus, Caleb, I didn't mean to fall asleep, but goddamn, you don't gotta cry about it!” Shannon exclaimed, plopping down on the bed beside Caleb's legs. “I know, I know, you lost to Miami. But hey, you’ll get over it. So quit cryin’, I dunno how to handle that!”
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Caleb blinked at Shannon. “What…? What are you doing here?” Shannon. In his apartment. Shannon lived on campus. Why was Shannon here?
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Shannon shrugged. “Coach said you had a concussion. After that tackle with 83 in the third quarter? He said you went home with the goth kid after the game and passed out in his dorm.” Shannon looked back at Caleb, his face scrunched up. “Can’t figure out why you went back with that weird-ass art kid, but hey. You’re concussed. I figure I can’t give ya too much grief.”
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Caleb gave Shannon a shaky smile. “R-right. But why are you here?” Okay, so Caleb supposedly had a concussion. Even with his foggy brain, he figured out that the concussion story was Amadeo’s cover for whatever was actually wrong with him.
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Fuck, what was wrong with him?
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Shannon’s expression shifted from amused to deer-in-headlights. “I’m supposed to be feeding you!” He jumped to his feet, swearing. “Dammit, what do you want? I went through your shit and you have…” He stopped in the doorway, looking from the kitchen back to Caleb. “Ramen. You basically only have ramen.”
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Caleb nodded. “Ramen’s fine,” he said quietly, sinking deeper into his pillow. As soon as Shannon left the room, Caleb leaned over and fumbled for his phone on the nightstand, opening up his camera app with clumsy thumbs. He flipped his camera around, craning his neck, looking, searching…
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There!
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Two tiny holes on the side of his neck, right over his pulse points. Scabbed over now, no longer oozing blood. He didn’t imagine it.
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He sagged back against his pillow, letting his phone slip from his hand. He wasn’t sure if he was relieved that he hadn’t dreamed last night up or not. The whole thing was fuzzy and dreamlike in his memory, so a physical confirmation was pretty nice.
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Before he could dwell on it for too long, though, Shannon came stomping back in, a steaming styrofoam cup of Top Ramen cradled in his hands. “Soup’s on!” he hollered, way too loud for Caleb’s head.
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“Fuck, Shan, inside voice,” Caleb muttered, reaching for the ramen. “Thanks though.”
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Shannon sat back down beside him, but just as he was about to hand Caleb the cup, he snatched it back, shaking his head. “Nuh-uh, sorry Caleb,” he said, pointing to his hands with the fork. “You’ll spill.”
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Caleb looked down at his hands. Sure enough, they were trembling. He glared up at Shannon. “...What are you implying here, Shan?”
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Shannon waggled his eyebrows, holding up the fork. “I’ll feed ya,” he said gleefully, scooting up towards Caleb’s head. He looked far too excited about the prospect, and Caleb shrank back into his pillow.
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This was humiliating. But he figured he only had two options: let Shannon feed him, or starve to death and have Coach Ramsey up his ass for leaving him to deal with the playoffs alone.
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With a sigh, he opened his mouth and let Shannon shovel noodles down his throat. With each bite he took, the stronger he seemed to feel, and with each bite he took, the dimmer his memory of last night seemed to be.
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By the time the week was over, and his so-called ‘concussion’ had faded, he’d completely forgotten about his encounter with Amadeo.
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***
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Football season flew by in a flurry of easy wins and two very, very annoying losses, punctuated by long nights of partying and drinking and sleeping with every girl on the OSU cheer squad and at least three girls from other teams’ squads. The team was on a high, and by the time championship week rolled around, Caleb was the king of Ohio State University.
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But Caleb’s head wasn’t in the game. Caleb’s head was stuck on, God help him, that Art History kid, Amadeo. He barely remembered ending up in the guy’s dorm room, but he’d just fixated on him the first time he’d passed him in the hall.
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Caleb couldn’t deny the feeling in his gut every time he thought about Amadeo. He couldn’t deny the undeniable attraction he felt towards the man, so he did what any self-respecting jock with a crush would do.
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He bullied Amadeo.
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Caleb knocked textbooks out of Amadeo’s hands in the hall, tripped Amadeo as he walked past him in the cafeteria, and stole things from Amadeo’s locker when he wasn’t looking. He shoved him whenever he walked past, and one time he got Tommy to do a drive-by egging with him.
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Long story short, he was a total jerk.
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But the infuriating thing about it all was that Amadeo never reacted. No matter what Caleb tried, Amadeo refused to get riled up about it.
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And Caleb hated that.
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Fine. If Amadeo wasn’t going to respond to his bullying, Caleb was going to run a few tests. He’d been toying with some ideas lately, trying to figure out what the whole ‘licking blood off his thumb’ thing was about. Either Amadeo was a vampire, he figured, or he was a kinky bastard.
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Let’s find out.
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One day, Caleb strode into Personal Finances sporting a cheap leather collar and a vague story about a game of Drink or Dare gone sideways. He’d played it off with the perfect amount of cockiness and embarrassment, joking around with his teammates and some of his other classmates, but the way Amadeo’s eyes had darkened, the tell-tale way he’d shifted his stance, hadn’t gone unnoticed.
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His reaction to the collar led Caleb to believe that Amadeo was a kinky bastard. But test two…
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In early January, Caleb snuck several large cloves of garlic into Amadeo’s coat pockets when he wasn’t looking. The goth man had just been walking across the quad, and Caleb had somehow managed to reverse-pickpocket him. When Amadeo stuck his hands in his pockets, he’d immediately yanked them out and stripped the coat off, spitting swears like it was his job. He’d come into class the next day with rashes and welts all over his hands and forearms.
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That reaction pointed to vampire.
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By championship night, Caleb was just confused. He didn’t know much about kinky shit, and even less about vampires. Could he have simply asked Amadeo?
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Oh, heck no! What kind of jock did you think he was? No, Caleb figured it was best to simply avoid direct confrontation altogether. Dancing around the perimeter of his tangled emotions and hazy memories was much safer.
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***
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The championship came and went in a Gatorade-fueled blur. Caleb was a beast on the field, hucking passes so deep that no one thought Shannon would catch the ball. But Coach Ramsey had trained ‘em good, and by halftime, the Buckeyes were up by three touchdowns, two of Miami’s best players were on the bench, and Caleb had managed to spot a certain black-haired man in the stands.
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After the first half, the game was over for Miami. The Buckeyes were crowned, Caleb had told the reporters that the regular season loss to the Hurricanes had been nothing but a fluke, and Shannon had convinced Tommy to streak across the field during the QB interview. Before Caleb knew it, he was showered, dressed, and striding through the doors of the wildest frat house on campus.
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The party was already in full swing by the time the team got there. Beer was already flowing, music was already thumping, the floors were already sticky. Caleb grinned as the cheer squad caught up with them, a couple of blondes gluing themselves to his sides. Someone pushed a beer into his hand, then slapped him on the back.
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Caleb just soaked it all in, reveling in the cheers that his arrival had caused. The blonde on his left dragged him into the living room, where a dozen or so people were already grinding to the beat of some song Caleb didn’t know.
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“Good game,” she called over the music, her hands gliding up his chest. “Ohio’s got the best quarterback in the state.” Her smile was too sharp to be entirely innocent.
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He laughed, his free hand coming around to grip her hip. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured, placing his lips by her ear. “You know my rule. One hour for-”
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“For you to celebrate with the boys, yeah, yeah, I know.” The cheerleader pulled back, pouting, her lower lip looking far too edible. “But c’mon, Caleb. I’m here now. I may not be here in another hour.”
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Caleb groaned, leaning in to nip at her earlobe. “Jesus, keep your shirt on,” he huffed, giving her a wink. “For now.”
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She giggled, tugging at his belt. “If you insist.”
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Cheerleaders. They could never wait to get in your pants.
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“Sweetheart, you’re very convincing,” he laughed softly, his breath stirring the golden flyaways at her temple. He took a drink from his beer, letting the cool liquid slide down his throat before pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the girl’s neck. “Fine,” he growled. “You win.” He passed off his drink to Brick, then crashed his mouth against the girl’s.
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The girl smirked against his lips, her mouth opening at his tongue’s insistence. He cupped the side of her face with one hand, deepening the angle of the kiss, his other hand sliding under her shirt.
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The cheerleader melted. They always did. Caleb was just that good.
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He shoved his tongue down her throat, and the girl moaned, her eyelids fluttering shut. Caleb rolled his eyes. Dramatic.
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But then the girl’s hands slid up his chest, into his hair, fingertips dancing across his collarbone, jawline, neck-
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His nerve endings exploded. His neck felt like it was on fire, and two pinprick spots on his neck felt like someone had plunged hot needles into his vein. Caleb gasped, staggering backward a step. The backs of his legs hit something, and he sat down hard on a couch. The blonde followed him down, straddling his lap, dragging her lips all over his face.
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But Caleb’s mind wasn’t on the cheerleader. No, Caleb’s mind was in a dark dorm room, feeling the sharp sting of canines sinking into his flesh. Caleb’s mind was back to that night, the night he couldn’t remember.
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Dark. Out for a run. Always run at night. Coach’s orders. Running through the quad. Past that goth kid, what was his name?
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Amadeo.
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Amadeo grabbed him. Strong. So, so strong, why was he so strong? Caleb couldn’t move.
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“Shh, sweetheart, don’t fight it. Don’t struggle, you can’t get away.”
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Caleb fought against those strong arms, shoving against the hard plane of Amadeo’s chest. Caleb had hardly ever encountered someone so much stronger than he was, and being unable to get away was making him panic.
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Sharp, biting pain. In his neck. Two stabbing points on his neck. Blood flowing from his vein, into the hot cavern of the mouth pressed against his throat. Sucking.
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Caleb had never been good with blood, or with needles. He passed out.
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He jolted back to the present when the girl in his lap bit at his ear, murmuring something about getting him naked. He shoved her off, muttering some excuse about more beer and ignoring her disgruntled protests. He didn’t give a shit about her. She’d be all over Tommy or Shannon in thirty seconds.
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Caleb stalked through the party, eyes scanning the crowd for one person and one person only.
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Amadeo.
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He had to know what the goth had done to him. He had to. After that night, Caleb had never been the same, and it was all Amadeo’s fault.
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Well, no more. He’d find out what was up with that stupidly handsome goth man, or die trying!
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The ‘die trying’ part nearly became true right then, because Caleb stepped into the kitchen and almost had a heart attack.
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There, leaning against the stove, sipping languidly on something in a red solo cup, stood Amadeo. Loose white button-up shirt, the top few buttons undone, tight-fitting black pants, boots with just the slightest bit of a heel. Long, slender fingers adorned with antique rings, dark stones set in gold and steel. His dark eyes smoldered as he gazed over the rim of his cup, staring right at Caleb.
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Caleb tripped over his own feet and nearly fell flat on his face in the middle of the party.
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Smooth motherfucker that he was (liar), he faked another stumble, bracing his hands on the kitchen island with a loud laugh. He wasn’t driven to distraction by Amadeo, the maybe-vampire. No, he was totally just drunk. Yup. Absolutely.
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The whole charade was pointless though, because no one in the room was paying any attention to Caleb besides Amadeo, and Amadeo saw right through the whole thing anyway.
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Caleb stifled a sigh. He was in way over his head.
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Plastering a megawatt smile onto his face, he snatched a couple of beers out of the ice-filled cooler on the counter and strode up to Amadeo, projecting more confidence than he felt.
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“Some party, huh?” he asked, handing Amadeo one of the drinks. Stupid, stupid question, Caleb. Real fucking smooth.
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“Mhm,” the goth answered, accepting the drink with a knowing smirk. He twisted the top off and poured the beer into his cup. Caleb got a whiff of something decidedly stronger than beer, but he didn’t have time to think about it. “Good game today, Caleb.”
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Caleb shrugged, chugging from his beer. “Oh, y’know. All part of the… wait.” His cheeks flushed hot, pink dusting his face. “You were at the game.”
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A dark smile split Amadeo’s lips. “I’m at all your games, sweetheart,” he responded, the faintest hint of a laugh in his voice. “Although I’m not sure why I keep coming. You’ve been rather… rude to me lately.”
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If Caleb had been any other man, he would have confessed his little crush right then and there.
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Instead, the pink on his cheeks darkened to red, and Caleb nearly choked on his beer. “Um, well… See, I…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Fuck.” What was he supposed to say?
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The truth, he supposed.
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He took a long, long swig from his beer, slammed the empty bottle down onto the counter, and went for it. “So basically I remembered what happened that night and you licked my blood off your thumb and I couldn’t figure out if you were a vampire or just a kinky little shit so I ran a couple of tests but I still can’t figure it out and that’s why I’ve been a jerk lately so…” He shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders slumping. “Yeah.”
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Amadeo’s left eyebrow crept upwards. “That explains the garlic,” he said drily. “And the collar.”
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Caleb cringed, shrinking in on himself. “Yeah,” he muttered, instantly regretting saying ‘yeah’ again. “Sorry about that.”
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Amadeo shrugged, sipping his drink. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he answered, smirking at Caleb over his cup. “The collar was a real treat.”
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Well, Caleb wanted to crawl right through the floor just then. Instead, he managed to say, “So you’re just a kinky bastard, then?” He could feel his ears burning now, his entire face flushed a deep, embarrassed red. He ducked his head, staring down at his shoes.
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To his increasing horror, Amadeo laughed. “Oh, absolutely. But come on, Caleb, be realistic. You’re a smart guy, you can put the pieces together.” Amadeo reached out, his fingers grazing Caleb’s chin as he tilted his face up. “Look at me, sweetheart.”
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Caleb’s mind went blank. Beautifully, blissfully blank. All the overthinking, the embarrassment, the dancing around his feelings, Caleb felt like it all just melted straight out of his ears.
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He blinked at Amadeo, mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. Amadeo made a soft ‘tch’, then tapped Caleb’s chin. “Focus, Caleb. Reaction to garlic, drinking of blood. You only ever see me outside at night. I’m pale as death and dress like a Victorian-era toff. I’m stronger than you are, and you’re a football player. I bit you.”
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Amadeo smiled, with teeth this time, and Caleb caught a look at two sharp white fangs. Oh my god.
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“Sweetheart, I’m a vampire.”
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Amadeo’s voice sounded like steel wrapped in velvet. Caleb could only stare, blinking up at that pale, handsome face.
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Vampire.
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Amadeo was a vampire.
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Well. Fuck if that didn’t turn him the hell on.
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Amadeo’s hand slipped from his face, and Caleb’s mind suddenly switched back on. Caleb swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. “What… fuck, really?” He cleared his throat, grabbing another beer off the counter. He shifted his stance, trying to alleviate the sudden tightness in his jeans. “I didn’t think vamps actually existed.”
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The goth man looked at Caleb with an unreadable expression. “We don’t exactly broadcast our existence to the world,” he said quietly. “Vampires are seen as monsters. We’d be slaughtered.”
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Caleb snorted. “I don’t think that’s true,” he answered, not thinking. “Have you ever searched for vampire smut on AO3? I think people would be more turned on than terrified.” His cheeks flushed again as he realized what he’d said. “I mean… um…”
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Amadeo put his cup down on the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you search for vampire smut a lot?” he asked, his tone teasing. “It sounds to me like you do.”
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Fuck. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, no. This was not how he wanted this to go.
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Caleb stuttered out some half-assed excuse about a dare from Shannon. Amadeo stepped closer.
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“A dare from Shannon, hm?” he purred darkly. “Just like that collar was a dare?” Oh, shit. Busted. “You made me feel things that you had no business making me feel.” Amadeo was fully in Caleb’s space now, the vampire’s lean body caging him against the counter. “Sweetheart, the things you do to me…” Amadeo shook his head, a soft laugh falling from his lips. “It’s not very nice, getting me all hot and bothered with no intention to do anything about it.”
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Caleb’s ears burned. Something hard and heavy ground against his hip. His mouth opened, and he squeaked an apology. Amadeo laughed again.
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“Sorry, sweetheart? You’re sorry?” His lips brushed Caleb’s ear, his breath ice cold against Caleb’s skin. “I know exactly how sorry you are.” Fingertips grazed the bulge in his jeans, and Caleb gasped.
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“Deo,” he gulped, unopened beer bottle slipping from his hand. He gripped the counter behind him, not even registering the clatter of the bottle hitting the floor. “Deo, please…”
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Amadeo raised an eyebrow, his lips curving upwards against Caleb’s temple. “What are you begging for, sweetheart?” he asked darkly. “Use your words.”
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God, did Caleb want to. He wasn’t used to begging, wasn’t used to feeling like this at all. But right now, tipsy and confused, he found himself wanting, wanting anything Amadeo would give him.
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He swallowed hard, trying to form a coherent sentence in his mind. “Can you… can we…” Fuck, this was going poorly. “I’m usually so much better at this,” he muttered, dropping his forehead to rest on Amadeo’s shoulder. “Fuck me.”
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Amadeo grinned. “I plan to. You okay if I take you upstairs?” His hands gripped Caleb’s belt loops, toying with the zipper. Caleb had never been so turned on in his life.
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He’d barely managed to say ‘yes’ before Amadeo started tugging him forward, his pointer finger hooked lazily through one of the loops. Caleb had no choice but to follow, mouth watering as his mind raced through all the depraved things Amadeo might do to him.
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Amadeo pulled him up the stairs to the second floor of the frat house, trying door handles until one swung open. The next thing he knew, Caleb was pressed against the wall of an empty bedroom, the click of the lock near deafening in the quiet room. Amadeo’s mouth was on his before Caleb could blink, those slender fingers toying with his zipper.
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Caleb gasped softly, his lips parting instantly. Amadeo’s tongue traced the shape of his mouth, tasting the beer on his lips, memorizing the way Caleb’s mouth moved against his.
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“Let me see you, sweetheart. Get these fucking jeans off,” he growled. “Now.”
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Caleb’s mind went blank. He couldn’t do anything but obey, his hands fumbling with his jeans. He shoved the denim down his legs, kicking them to the side without a second thought. He tugged his shirt off without being told, and approval gleamed in Amadeo’s eyes.
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“There we go,” the goth murmured, scraping his nails lightly down Caleb’s torso. Caleb moaned, slumping against the wall.
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“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Deo,” he keened, fisting his hands in Amadeo’s shirt, back arching into the touch. He was panting now. What the heck was going on here? Caleb didn’t pant.
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But then Amadeo’s hands were gently skimming up and down his sides, his mouth working ravenously over his neck, and Caleb just about thought he’d died and gone to heaven. The cool press of fingertips against his ribs, the brush of midnight locks against his cheek, the sweet nothings Amadeo kept whispering as he sucked dark bruises into Caleb’s throat; the world outside could have ended and Caleb wouldn’t have noticed. Or cared.
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“Shh, sweetheart, you’re alright. I’ve got you. You don’t get this often, do you, sweetheart?” Amadeo’s voice was a low, rasping purr, vibrating against Caleb’s throat. Icy fingertips traced paths down Caleb’s stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Across his abs, slipping below the waistband of his boxers, wrapping around his-
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“Jesus fucking Christ, Caleb!” Amadeo hissed, yanking his hand out of Caleb’s underwear. He shook his hand, swearing under his breath. Caleb, fighting to get his breath back, caught a glimpse of harsh red burns on Amadeo’s fingertips. “Are you pierced?” Amadeo shook his head. “Scratch that. You are pierced. Silver jewelry? Fuck, I’m gonna kill you.”
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He glared at Caleb for a moment, holding his burned hand away from his body. “Turn around.”
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Caleb blinked. “Wha…?”
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Amadeo pressed his lips together, his good hand braced against the wall by Caleb’s head. “Turn the fuck around, sweetheart. Now.”
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No sooner had he turned around than Amadeo was yanking his boxers down his legs, forcing Caleb to step out of them before he kicked Caleb’s legs apart. Caleb pressed his hands against the wall, groaning as Amadeo ground his clothed erection against Caleb’s ass.
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“I was gonna be nice,” Amadeo rumbled, scraping his fangs along the shell of Caleb’s ear. “But since you clearly don’t want me touching you…” Caleb whined, and Amadeo nipped his earlobe. “Hush. You hurt me, sweetheart. For that, I’m not going to touch you.” Caleb felt him smile against his skin. “You think you can handle that? Think you can come untouched?”
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Caleb did not think he could come untouched. He’d never come without some sort of stimulation, and he was about to say so when he heard a tell-tale pop. Sure enough, seconds later, he was arching his back and grinding his hips into the wall as a lube-covered finger pressed against his rim. He cried out as Amadeo slid a second finger in beside the first, his cock throbbing painfully at the new sensation.
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“Shh, there you go, sweetheart, that’s it…” Amadeo kept up a steady stream of quiet praise, carefully starting to pump and scissor his fingers, slowly stretching Caleb open. Caleb’s mind just went blank, stars sparking in his vision as molten desire shot straight to his groin. He arched against Amadeo, pressing his hips back against Amadeo’s prodding fingers.
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“Deo, please,” he whimpered, forehead thunking against the wall. “Please, more, more, Deo-” Caleb didn’t know what he was doing. He had never, never been on the receiving end of this kind of attention. Sure, he and the boys fooled around in the locker room sometimes, but that was all rough, working out frustrations they couldn’t handle on the field. This was different. This was personal.
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Well, whatever Caleb was doing, Amadeo must have liked it, because a third finger joined the others. Caleb practically sobbed at the sensation, his cock jumping between his thighs as he bucked his hips, trying to find some sort of friction.
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He’d just gotten used to the stretching sensation when he heard the sound of a zipper being undone. He clenched around Amadeo’s fingers in anticipation, a choked moan leaving his lips as Amadeo pulled away, leaving him frustratingly empty.
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“Deo,” he huffed, pressing back against Amadeo, searching. “Deo, don’t stop.” He reached one shaking hand down to his cock, wrapping his own fingers around his shaft. He swirled his thumb around the tip, smearing the pre-cum that had gathered there. Amadeo didn’t do anything, didn’t say anything. Emboldened, Caleb started bucking into his hand, chasing his own pleasure, when a sharp crack echoed through the room.
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Caleb yelped, instinctively rocking backward as pleasure-pain exploded across his ass cheek.
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“Keep your hands to yourself, baby boy,” Amadeo growled. “I won’t tell you again.”
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Caleb’s hand went back to the wall, leaving his weeping cock alone. He felt like he could cry from frustration, from sheer, overwhelming need. He’d never been so turned on in his life, and he couldn’t even touch himself.
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Caleb was debating making another attempt when he felt something notch at his entrance. His eyes blew wide open, pupils dilated so far his blue eyes looked black. Amadeo gripped his hips, gritting his teeth as he fought the urge to drive straight into Caleb. Slowly, so fucking slowly, he sank into Caleb, groaning as inch after inch disappeared into Caleb’s clutching heat.
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“There it is,” he rasped, his voice guttural and rough. “That’s it, baby, take it. Take my fucking cock, sweetheart. So good for me, yeah?” His grip tightened on Caleb’s hips, holding him tight enough to leave finger-shaped bruises. By the time he bottomed out, Caleb was crying from sheer pleasure, his cock drooling onto the laminate floor. Amadeo was breathing hard, fangs digging into his bottom lip. He could smell the blood humming through Caleb’s veins, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to bite and suck and feed.
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Amadeo shook his head. No, he told himself. Not the time. A sharp cry from Caleb brought him back to the present, and he pressed a soft kiss to the back of his neck. “Alright, sweetheart?”
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Caleb nodded, giving a whimpered ‘Mhm’. Stars sparked behind his eyelids, and he leaned his forehead against the wall, trying very, very hard to breathe normally.
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The breathing went out the window when Amadeo started moving. Caleb’s vision whited out as the vampire eased out before thrusting back in, slamming the head of his cock against Caleb’s prostate.
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Caleb hadn’t seen Amadeo’s cock, but he was getting the impression that it was very, very big. And possibly magical. There was no way a normal cock could pound into his prostate with every thrust.
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Definitely magical, Caleb thought with a choked-off moan, Amadeo slamming back into him with a filthy grind of his hips.
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Amadeo kept kissing across Caleb’s back and shoulders, whispering gently to him. “Doing so well, baby, so good for me.” Another obscene rut, grinding his pelvis against Caleb’s ass. “Take my cock so well, look how pretty you are. Good boy, sweetheart.” He reached around Caleb’s torso, tweaking one of his nipples.
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Okay, so Caleb didn’t know his nipples were so goddamn sensitive. He figured it out real quick when Amadeo pinched one and Caleb’s orgasm practically erupted through him. His fingers dug into the wall, back arching like a bow. Hot, thick ropes of cum painted the wall in front of him as he threw his head back, mouth falling open in a perfect ‘O’.
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Amadeo held him through it, his own body shaking, hips stuttering as he buried himself to the hilt inside Caleb. His own orgasm shuddered through him, but he wasn’t sure Caleb even noticed.
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As Caleb shook through the aftershocks of his orgasm, Amadeo scratched his nails lightly across his torso, murmuring praises and filthy, filthy approval. Caleb whimpered softly, writhing against the sensation.
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“Shh, good boy. You did so well, love.” He slowly started to pull out, hissing at the loss of contact. Caleb whined again, hips rutting backward, still searching for Amadeo’s cock. “No, no, sweetheart. Breathe for me. Breathe, that’s it… don’t want it now, do you? Too much for my sweetheart.”
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He turned Caleb around in his arms, the other man’s forehead falling heavily against his still-clothed shoulder. Caleb buried his face in Amadeo’s neck, soft, contented noises falling from his lips.
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“Tired,” he mumbled, inhaling Amadeo’s scent. “Feel good… wanna sleep.”
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Amadeo’s cold, undead heart melted right there in his chest. He slid one hand to the back of Caleb’s neck, fingers curling into the golden locks at his nape. He pressed a gentle kiss to Caleb’s temple, his cold breath fluttering the hair there.
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“Alright, sweetheart,” he whispered. “You can sleep.”
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***
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This was not his bedroom.
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But that wasn’t the first thing Caleb noticed.
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The first thing he noticed was the cool, solid weight of someone in bed with him, an arm around his waist, slender fingers splayed over his abdomen. He blinked sluggishly, trying to figure out where he was, what was going on.
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His mouth tasted like beer and bad decisions, the flavor of a long, hard night of partying. His head pounded. Hangover. He definitely had a hangover.
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Focus, Caleb.
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Bedroom. Obviously. He had the championship game last night, there was a party… Frat house. He was in someone’s bedroom. He didn’t know whose.
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Well, whoever’s room this was, they were probably enjoying the couch downstairs right now.
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Caleb groaned softly, rolling onto his back. Whoever was in bed with him stirred, arm tightening just slightly on his waist. He looked over, gaze landing on soft black hair, pale skin, sharp white fangs that rested on a plush lower lip.
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Caleb started. There was a man in bed with him.
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Amadeo, his brain supplied. Amadeo. The vampire.
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Oh yeah.
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Caleb shifted onto his side, facing Amadeo. Those long lashes fluttered against that pale cheek, and Caleb found himself staring into the cool gray eyes of a monster.
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Amadeo smiled. “Good morning, sweetheart,” he rumbled, his voice rough and deep. Caleb melted as the hand on his waist started tracing gentle circles on his hip. “Did you sleep well?”
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Caleb nodded. He didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to ruin the moment. Amadeo tapped his hip.
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“I’m glad. You have no idea how hard it was for me to find a position to sleep in where your stupid piercing wouldn’t burn me.”
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Caleb’s cheeks burned. Amadeo leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “You’ll have to get a different piece of jewelry,” he murmured absently. “Steel, or platinum, maybe. So I can get you off properly next time.”
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“Next time?” Caleb whispered, mind fuzzy. Was Amadeo… was he implying…?
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Amadeo raised an eyebrow. “Did you really think I’d let you go so easily, sweetheart? Come, now.” Then his brow furrowed. “Unless you don’t want to… I mean, unless this was…”
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Caleb paled. “No! No, I want… I want you.” He blushed, ducking his head. “I want this. I want to be yours.”
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Amadeo tilted Caleb’s chin up with a finger. “Are you sure, love?” he asked, his expression serious. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything. I’d never forgive myself if I did.”
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Caleb nodded vigorously. “I’m sure! And, like, I was thinking… I could be your, like, blood bag, right? You could feed from me, so you wouldn’t have to…” He trailed off, cheeks flaring red again. “I dunno what you usually do. Attack innocent football players on their evening jog, I guess.”
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Amadeo laughed, a bright, joyful sound that made Caleb grin and duck his head shyly. “Good idea?” he asked bashfully.
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“Yes, sweetheart,” Amadeo said, kissing him again, mouth slanting over his. “Very good idea.”107Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMkr8YYV3z1
