Foul Meal

Content Notes: Vampire AU, SFW but with noncon.


It was Mr. Hickey's tolerance of sunlight that made Goodsir doubt his instincts when he first noticed the signs. He regrets this, now.

"You really are your name." There is barely enough room on Goodsir's cot for two people, but Mr. Hickey is like a cat, fitting himself in the tiniest space and somehow making himself perfectly comfortable as he presses against Goodsir from behind. His arm is slung around Goodsir's ribs, his mouth is wet against Goodsir's ear. "Even your scent is as pure as mountain air. Tell me, doctor, does it sicken you to be around such godless creatures as us?"

Goodsir scoffs. "Only you, Mr. Hickey," he says.

Mr. Hickey smiles against his ear, breathing a lifeless breath on it before withdrawing. When his mouth comes down against Goodsir's neck, kissing him with pretence of tenderness, Goodsir refuses to shiver.

"For your sake, I hope you won't taste as you smell." Mr. Hickey's arm tightens around Goodsir as he reveals his fangs, resting their sharp tips right on Goodsir's racing pulse. "Otherwise, I'm not sure if I can make you last longer than one night."

Goodsir hasn't decided yet whether he wants to live or die. Whichever happens, he hopes he makes a foul meal.

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