a/n – I wrote this entire chapter to Our Love by Curtis Hardin and Jazmine Sullivan – it’s on the Aiasthlyn playlist on Spotify

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Malcolm

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Consciousness comes as slowly as a wandering spirit ambling through fog, but it does not travel alone. Beside it drifts a persistent hunger that feels all-too-familiar, but only in the way it clings to the fringes of my mind like a half-conceived thought.

I consider it vaguely, only to lose its contours as I blink my eyes open.

I note first my crumpled sheets, the edges of the pillow I lie on, and the morning light spilling in from the window. It illuminates the ransacked staples of my room, and I stare vaguely at all while my mind notes with pleasure the warmth cocooning my back.

There is also, strangely, a rhythmic hum in the air. It is something else to be added to the list of what is familiar as I rouse, only this quickly snags the majority of my attention, for it is made up of a steady beat that comes to me like a siren’s song.

I blink again, this time beneath a frown.

I could recall the number of times I had fallen asleep unintentionally, and they numbered fewer than five. And even then, it had not been true sleep. Vampires mimicked the form of rest most creatures took, but even while our eyes closed and we filtered out the world around us until it was little more than a backdrop of noise to placate our inner thoughts, there was a part of our mind that was always conscious of the world around us— primed and ready, should some external force flag our senses.

The only time I had strayed from that truth was when Wequie had wanted to test the parameters of his levelling power after enduring the first number of centuries under his curse. But even then, that had been intentional, forewarned.

I could not recall choosing to put myself to sleep, and no part of me had been conscious while I was under, and yet…

My frown deepens, and I push myself upright even while I wade my way through my still-fogged mind. I need to get to Lincoln, and sound every alarm to alert him of an attack, or so I think until the arm looped around my throat tightens and pulls me back down.

Stillness takes a new form in me, and does not waver as all of my worries and confusion are dissolved by the body pressed snug to mine. Soft exhales brush against the nape of my neck, and everything that I am puddles as I remember with abounding clarity exactly who had put me to sleep.

Phantom touches skate along my skin beside the memory of his body draped over mine. In a moment that gets lost between the past and present, I can almost feel him inside of me while his lips drifted over mine and his eyes proclaimed things I only dreamed of.

My soul trembles, quivering like a tugged string as unshackled bliss explodes inside of me without restraint. It is greater than before, stronger too, as I try to cope with all the intimate ways the threads of his being now intertwine with mine.

The way he had looked at me… How he said my name…

I shudder and soon melt against him, desperate to be as close as we were the night prior.

I thought I knew intimacy, thought I had understood sex for all that it was, but Gods… I had been sorely mistaken.

Blood rushes through my ears, and I am sure it is mine until my mind pins the tune to the elf at my back. I listen closely. It’s a song I already know, but I seem to crave it more now, enough to turn in his arms, but before I can draw closer, Aias’ breaths falter.

I fall still again, but it is too late.

Peaceful slumber disturbed, Aias wakes as slowly as I did. He crawls his way back to the surface, which is odd since he never allowed himself to sleep deeply, but then his golden eyes are fluttering open and focusing on me, and the world is cast away.

It leaves nothing but Aias.

He gazes back at me, eyes laden with sleep in a way that leave him placid for now. I wait for it to clear, for his invisible shield to rise with all its webbed secrets, but even as awareness flares and his pupils dilate, tension is not what claims him.

Relief takes that place instead.

A fluttering starts at my care, but I hold steady, not daring to move. I’m not sure that it matters, because Aias stays as he is while he gazes at me as his earlier peacefulness seems to find him again. It melds him back to the bed, and though I know it cannot be because of me, the joy that fills me is still rapacious.

“Hello, Malcolm,” he whispers, voice gravelled by sleep while he glides his fingers along my arm.

He must still be waking, I decide. It is obvious, but if that is the case, why is it that the longer he stares at me, the softer his gaze seems to become?

“…Hello,” I reply carefully, and for some reason, his lips twitch into a smile.

“You are awake,” he muses, a touch of humour teasing the words as he closes his eyes for a yawn. “I was becoming concerned.”

My lips part, but nothing spills from them as I stare at him.

It is Aias, I am sure, but he is relaxed and open in a way that I thought he would have shuttered by now. Yesterday he had been so, but I thought he’d let that lighter side of him breathe to keep me comfortable before my first time, but that time has passed, and he remains devastatingly soft.

I close my eyes, trying to find my usual calm before I lose myself to feelings that are bound to run wild like this, but Aias pulls me with him while he lies on his back and drapes me over his chest, and such plots are discarded.

His fingers find mine once I am plastered to him, intertwining them while his lips brush against the top of my head. My phantom heart lurches, tugging viciously at my soul.

Perhaps, I am the one who is still dreaming. That would make far more sense.

Dream Aias hums above me, keeping me close enough that his heart beats just beneath my ears.

It is strong, holding a steady tune that soon overrides all others. It is hypnotic too, this muscle that pumps the blood through his veins. I can not pull myself away from it as I melt atop him, wanting more.

“I… do not remember falling asleep,” I admit when I am able.

“Oh?” Aias murmurs thoughtfully. He allows a moment to pass before he adds, “I hope that is all that you’ve forgotten.”

My skin flames while I stare at our hands, but I do not hesitate to nod, because those memories were as close and clear as the moments themselves.

Aias’ heart beats faster, and I lick over my fangs to soothe the odd ache there.

“I did not mean to,” I whisper, because that had not been anything close to the plan.

“I do not believe I gave you a choice,” Aias retorts, and I have to lift my head to make sure that it is him and not some talented imposter. He lies under my stare with that same mellowed gaze, and no part of it falters as his hand leaves mine to take my face in hand. “How do you feel?”

My gaze drops automatically, an instinctual reaction. It is harder than before to look at him, and perhaps that is because, as he looks at me now, it is as though I am more than myself.

Almost as though… I am a belonging of his that he plans to care for.

“Fine— good,” I correct quickly while I force myself not to squirm against him. “I enjoyed it.” Aias raises a brow, smile growing wider. “Nothing hurts, if that is what you are wondering.”

“It is, in part,” he admits while his thumb glides over my jaw, gaze searching. “But I also wanted to be sure that it was all that you hoped.”

“More,” I whisper, leaning into his palm. “It was more than I hoped.”

When I glance at Aias next, there is a certain pleasure that wafts from him that rivals Wequie’s pheromones with the way they compel me, and it is only made worse by the proud smile that spreads across his face.

“I am glad.”

I nod. “I enjoyed all that you did.” Aias’ eyes darken, and my brain is quick to embrace the memories still dancing within it. “I—” I swallow, needing a moment. “I can still feel you in places.”

Aias’ heart soars higher, and I shuffle closer, coaxed by its symphony. “As you should,” he whispers while he thumbs the skin beneath my chin, gaze falling to my lips. “If you had not fallen asleep, I would still be inside of you right now.”

I bite my lip to cage my groan, but it slips free anyway, and Aias’ smile spreads wider.

It is blinding and just as devastating as his attention and flirtiness, and I am too desperate for both to do anything but drag myself further up his body, because there is only one thing I want, and he’s right t—

Aias’s lips find mine, and he does not hesitate to kiss me as though he knows how thoroughly I am his. He kisses me so deeply that the anxiety rippling through me dissolves, forgotten as my mind empties itself to all that does not concern my pyro.

Groaning, he tilts his head, and I do the same before finding his lips anew. He brings me closer to him, hand falling to my thigh as he brings it over his. I whimper as his cock brushes mine, and I’m already melting long before he rolls us, laying me on my back.

Aias breaks away from me to kiss across my cheek and down my neck, and I make myself pliable, letting myself be consumed while his breaths dance along my skin. Aias kisses and bites me, and I whimper beneath him until his neck grazes my lips.

I rise quickly as though tugged upwards, body searching until my nose grazes over his skin.

My stomach immediately carves, clawing for more as I bury my face in his neck.

Pleasure explodes anew, but it is more than lust. It is something far more carnal, and even though it is a place I have filled many times before, this time, my senses stray from my mind as if they have never existed at all.

Proper thought dawdles behind my common sense, leaving only the very hunger that I had awoken with, only it has finally shown itself for what it is now that I am pressed to what can soothe it.

Aias’ vein pulses against my lips and my fangs throb just behind them.

“Malcolm?”

Ice pierces my veins.

I scurry from Aias, tearing myself away from his arms and body, and out of the bed as well. I stand beside it, heaving while I rein in the wild hunger that gnaws at my temples.

My fanciful dream disappears before my eyes, leaving behind a nightmarish version of reality in which the soft sound that has been droning in the back of my mind since I woke reveals itself as the blood rushing through Aias’ veins.

Blood that I suddenly crave.

Aias rises after me, concern written all over his face until his gaze drops. My hand flies up just as quickly, but it is too late.

His eyes find mine, and there’s a seriousness there that does not match his former tenderness.

My insides knot as I shake my head. “I am just hungry,” I explain, already pleading. “I have not drunk properly in some days, and last night was… unexpectedly strenuous.”

No more strenuous than any of the wars I have survived with little more than a pint of blood in my system, and I had consumed more than that before he had come to my door, but I might as well have dried myself out for the carnal hunger that scrapes against the recesses of my mind.

Bloodlust.

I could not remember the last time I’d been ailed with it, if I ever had past the initial years the first of my kind had spent without our makers there to force us to gorge on as much as we could consume. It is so unfamiliar that I struggle to best its compulsion, especially when it is tied to the one man I have craved more than any other.

Worst yet, when I already know how he tastes.

I take another step back.

Aias eyes me through his slitted gaze, and I wait for the hate or disgust to surface, but neither comes, though I can not read what does show, and I am not sure that I want to.

“I will go to my blood bank,” I state, backing away from him as my stomach begins to twist. “There is no reason to be concerned.”

I beg him and the Gods alike to believe those words, and then myself to prove them true as he gazes at me. I did want his blood, but I was not a newborn. I had years’ worth of self-control, and I could maintain it… I only needed to feed.

“Alright,” Aias says, stepping towards me, and I immediately cast myself to the door.

He stills, and as a spell of surprise morphs into upset, I struggle not to take myself back to his side.

“I have seen you drink before,” he reminds me stiffly, and it is true, but this is different. I can already tell, and the last thing I want is for him to see me so when only a moment ago, he was looking at me as though I was the very source of his peace.

“I know, but… I might need a lot, and I would rather be alone,” I explain, hand scrambling for the knob until it finds it. “I will only be a few minutes. There is no reason for us both to go.” Aias’ displeasure mounts, but I do not let myself be swayed by it as I open the door and slip behind it. “I will be back.”

I shut it, hold firm, and then run.

It’s odd how I have energy for that, how I move just fine while my hunger screams otherwise. It tries to turn me around, my senses already honed to the elf I leave behind in an entirely new way.

I knew the feeling of Aias’ magic and his presence, had learned them before I even rose from my sleeping place, and they had thoughtlessly become the parts of him that I learned to track when he was not near. But now, it is the blood flowing through his veins that tells me precisely where he is.

No. No. No!

I flush the impulse from my mind as I reach my bloodbank, stumbling blindly to the furthest corner where the richest selection of my collection awaits.

My bank was nothing as illustrious as other vampires’, like Warren’s, but it also wasn’t close to as mundane as Lincoln’s simple coolers. It was a library, in a sense—organised and closely catalogued—and while I had never been the type to overindulge, I did keep certain strains for when I wanted to treat myself or when I felt particularly hungry.

I follow their threads now, desperate to quiet the ache so that I can return to Aias and show him that I am just fine. I do not feel it now, but I will, once I drink.

I reach a closed shelf stacked I have not touched in moons, and drag one of the drawers out. Chilled air puffs out, but I ignore the bite of it as I scoop out the pouch of Anis Wequie would have left on his last delivery.

I uncork it and do not bother slowing myself as I bring it to my lips and squeeze.

Blood gushes into my mouth, flowing so quickly that some escapes at the corners, but I ignore it as I gulp around the flood. My shoulders fall, and I lean against the shelves as bliss spreads through me, paving the way for the blood as it inundates my system.

It is as soothing as ever, like cold water pouring overhead after a day spent in the desert, but it does not taste good. Blood usually tasted good.

It was sometimes sweet or smooth, perhaps addictively coppered if it were rich in iron, but whatever the flavouring, it was almost always good.

This blood is not good.

Rare as it is, this blood is comparable only to water. Consumable, but bland, and nowhere as rich as it should be. Worse yet, it is nothing like his.

I fist the pouch tighter as memories file in to remind me in vivid detail of the sweetness that has lit my taste buds anew. Better than honey, better than fresh cream, better than anything that existed in this universe.

His blood had tasted like warm caramel.

Brows dragging in, I ignore the longing in my chest for what I can not have as I drain my pouch while my fingers reach for the neighbouring drawer.

I fish a glass vial of Gera out, and uncork it just as I’ve squeezed the last drop out of my first pouch, discarding it and bringing the next to my lips.

I drink it just as quickly, as I do the one that follows, and it is only after my fifth tasting that I realise that while the ache behind my fangs has subsided and I am thoroughly full, I remain hungry.

Only this hunger is not a normal one.

I still want blood, still crave it, but not because I need it. I crave it because it is his.

Stifling a curse, I slam the drawers shut before I stare down at the empty pouches and vials surrounding me.

My temples throb, suffering now from the bloodrush of gorging so much on blood, but it helps me think clearly while the world appears to me as vivid as it always did when I just consumed blood.

This was not bloodlust, not the wild type that sent newborns and the overindulgent into a frenzy. It was far worse, because it was the type that had given the word its original meaning.

Aias’ blood had been gifted to me while I’d been drunk on ecstasy, and after months of craving him, his blood imprinted itself on my senses. And now, it is all I want.

My hunger was linked to emotions rather than actual need.

Panic flutters, but I stifle it before it can plant roots.

There was a solution to this, and it was theoretically a simple one— distance.

I just had to spend some time away from Aias, drinking blood that was not his, and my body would right itself. If only the thought of parting from him after these last few days did not completely obliterate the very light from my spirit.

My mind focuses on Aias with terrifying precision, and I can picture the way he sits on the edge of my bed simply by the circuit his blood makes as it loops through him.

I am moving towards him before my mind has a proper justification for it, but it comes quickly. It would not be long until he followed if I did not return, and Gods, I could not imagine anything worse than him finding me in such a state.

Swiping at my lips, I take my time returning while my mind reels, scouring for the best way to handle this.

Separating now felt like a sentence in each of the Hells, but I would suffer it before giving him a reason to take back any of the affection I had fought so hard to acquire. I’d much rather suffer apart for a time than be close and suffer a hateful gaze from him ever again.

The only question was whether or not I told him the truth.

It remains unanswered by the time I reach my door once more, and any chance of finding it there is snatched from me as Aias opens it from the other side.

A soft sound escapes me, something like a sigh and a whimper because… Gods, this is not fair.

Aias stands within the doorway, naked and glorious with the morning light outlining his perfect figure, from his lithe form to his narrow hips and the curtain of bed-tousled hair that cascades over his shoulders.

I was used to seeing it straight, but there’s a slight curl that clings to the strands while he glares at me as though I have offended him.

“Something is wrong with you,” he declares, and there is no chance to deny it as he steps into my space and my fangs immediately fall.

Well, that answers that.

Aias’ gaze immediately drops to them, and even though there is no room to hide, I try to anyway. “I am sorry,” I mumble as I step back, putting space between us. “I can control myself. You do not need to be afraid.”

“Malcolm,” Aias calls, following me with a raised hand, but I am faster.

I escape his grasping palm, immediately prompting annoyance to flare in his gaze. I wince. “It is better for us to maintain distance.”

“You have made that decision? Come to that conclusion on your own?” He retorts, still chasing after me even as I dart away from each of his attempts. “Malcolm!”

“I’m sorry,” I groan as I zip away from him until I am on the other side of the hall. He glares after me, and I struggle not to shrink. “It will pass the sooner we are apart. I will only need a number of days—”

“Days?” Aias cuts in, shock hindering his chase for a moment. “You are not leaving for days.”

“I have to,” I reply, and I can not help my whine because it sounds as though he does not want me to either.

Aias’ lips fall open, and I only have a moment to glimpse something close to panic permeating from his gaze before the essence of his magic swells. I try to run, but it’s too late.

Aias appears in front of me, and his hand clasps over my wrist before I can escape.

He yanks me to him. I crash against his frame, breathless, and it only worsens as the scent of the blood beneath his skin engulfs me.

My senses hone in on the thickest vein in his neck. “Aias—”

“Be quiet,” he snaps, and I do instantly, immediately stilling. Lips pressed tightly together, he glares angrily at me, and I try to look away, but he does not allow that either. Taking my face in hand, he forces me to look at him even as my eyes glow and my fangs push past my lips.

Aias sees it all, studies it even, but at no point does he let disgust in. Hope quivers between my ribs.

“You are not leaving,” he states firmly, and I might as well be showered in his kisses again.

I savour it, savour his attention even as my body itches for another taste of him. Gods, he had tasted so good. He would taste even better from the vein.

“Malcolm,” he bites out, and my eyes drift back to his. “You. Are. Not. Leaving.”

“It is bloodlust,” I explain while I lean towards him, wanting just a drop, but Aias keeps me held inches from his lips, his grip brutal and wonderful.

“I do not care what it is. You are not leaving without my permission. Do you understand that?”

He wants me to surrender, and I do in every way but the one he seeks.

It would be a lie, and I did not lie to Aias. I stare back at him instead, and his glare turns lethal. It scorches almost as much as it arouses me.

Gods… he wants me. Not just for a night or to keep him warm. He wants me, almost like I want him.

“Say that you understand,” he demands.

My lips remain sealed even as I strain against his hold, and his eyes glow dangerously. A storm seems to brew inside of them, and I hate to be the cause of it, but I could suffer his anger too if it meant I could amend my own mistake.

“Lincoln and I are already meant to visit our first clan,” I remind him while I stare at his neck. “It is perfect timing. I would have to go in either case.”

Aias knows this. He listens to everything we say, and yet, his teeth clench, and his fingers dig into my skin as if that is how he plans to keep me to him.

“No,” he breathes, and I melt. “You will stay.”

I don’t even hold myself up anymore— it’s all him.

He said no. He wants me to stay, with him, even as compromised as I am. He does not plan to let me go.

… if only his first command were not one I would have to break.

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*screeches like a dinosaur* 

Thoughts??????????

Thoughts on their morning after???? On Malcolm’s bloodlust??? On Aias being all booed up and then all angry dom???

I initially wanted to include aftercare following the last chapter, but it just didn’t work with the sequence of events and felt super forced, but rest assured that Aias cleaned him up, changed the sheets, all that good stuff!

I loveeeeeee Malcolm facing a vampire problem and wanting Aias’ blood. There is just something so intriguing about that to me because he’s so old and basically has a hold on the whole thing, then one drop of Aias’ blood and he’s *insert Klaus voice* THE RIPPAAAAAA

Next chapter, buckle the fuck up cause Aias bout to show Malcolm what he means when he says no and also do all the things he didn’t get to do after Malcolm passed out 😏

If you missed it, OMEGA got a double update yesterday and the first extra for the month ‘Lincoln meets Baern’ is out – it’s about Lincoln meeting a dragon pisen friend Malcolm made in another extra!  – Links in my bio!

That’s all for now! Remember to like and comment!

Until next time,
Byeeeeeeeeeeeee Humanssssssssssssssss