Title: Thrall; golden weather; all war and no surrender
Genre: Romance, Smut, Friends to lovers
Fandom: Chronicles of Vladimir Tod
Notes: I shipped these two like burning as a tween, and there’s something incredibly hot about a vassal and his liegelord; or in this case, abusing psychic bonds for sex, star trek style.
Warnings: Cuts off in the middle of the fun, incomplete, teens being teens. They’re 17ish in this? But I’m playing fast and loose with canon.
Words: 3,580
Summary: A dirge can feel whatever his master wants before he says anything.
For the last few days, Henry has been watching him. Every time, Vlad can feel the eyes on him– he’s not sure if it’s a vampire thing, or if any human can feel it when they’re being watched so intently.
Isn’t it supposed to be metaphorical?
Vlad feels it every time.
When he can’t take it anymore and meets Henry’s eyes, like– ‘Dude. What!?’– Henry always grins at him. It’s wreaking merry havoc on Vlad’s blood pressure.
(And his blood stores. As his… body… acts up, so does his appetite.)
Henry McMillan is a menace.
Vlad almost said no to their scheduled sleepover, on the grounds that his best friend was being a complete weirdo.
His worries were mostly unwarranted; Henry was mostly normal, enough that Vlad had gradually relaxed throughout the evening. They played video games, Henry’s parents decided to be ultra cool and order them a pizza, even if they had to share with his brother– Vlad had his special marinara sauce, which was cliche enough that Henry mocked him mercilessly— and stayed up way too late talking about stupid shit in the dark.
Okay, there was one thing.
At the sleepover, Henry didn’t just watch him from across the room. It was much worse than that: at the sleepover, Vlad had his complete attention. He went from watching Vlad from across class or the lunchroom to watching Vlad during their conversations.
And what could Vlad even say? ‘How dare you maintain eye contact when we’re talking?’ It sounded crazy even to his own ears. Lots of allistic people maintained eye contact when they talked to someone.
Henry almost always confidently looked people in the eye when they talked to him. And he usually smiled, too– he was a carefree kinda guy, unless something stupid or supernatural was going on.
So why was Henry maintaining eye contact and letting a smile slowly curl his lips up, eyes sparkling with it. Vlad didnt know, but it seemed deliberate. Purposeful.
He was certain Henry was doing it to fuck with him, as evidenced by the way he did a little challenging thing with his eyebrows when he caught Vlad squinting at him suspiciously.
They stayed up late talking, but that was nothing unusual. Vlad having weird dreams wasn’t unusual, either.
Of course, lately Vlad’s unusual dreams had taken… a very pointed direction.
The Henry of his dreams smirked at him, too. The dream wasn’t properly linear, nor all that clear. It was blurry on the edges, one scene moving into another. More sensation and emotion than any plot or dialogue.
His dream self mirrored his real self; sleeping in Henry’s bed at the sleepover, with his owl blanket because Henry was a shameless and horrible blanket thief.
In the dream, Henry climbed over him. He thought it was going to be a blood dream when the blonde dipped down closer, neck coming within range. Instead, his best friend ducked down, soft hair tickling Vlad’s chin. His warm breath tickled the column of Vlad’s throat, lips not quite touching.
“Vlad.” The tone of voice didn’t match up; it was an exasperated, normal tone. With the way Henry’s lips barely brushed his neck, teasing dozens of not-quite kisses, mouthing—
“Vlad!” Impatient, this time. Why? His voice should be breathless, quiet like the softness of the room around them, the cloudy bed that threatened to eat them both. Henry’s weight was pressing him down, hands climbing up Vlad’s arms until he could tangle their fingers together, hold them above Vlad’s head as he nosed his way higher.
Passed Vlad’s ear, along his chin… He was so close. He was all Vlad could smell. Warm, alive, pressed right up to him–
A pillow slammed down onto his chest.
Vlad jerked awake with a wheeze, heart pounding painfully. His legs tangled in the sheets.
Henry was across the room.
“Dude, you sleep like the dead.” He said, snorting at his own joke and smirking like an asshole.
Where was he? What happened to the Henry in his lap? Slowly, Vlad realized it was only a dream. The most realistic part, Henry’s smell surrounding him, was because his bed smelled like him. Of course it did.
“Lame.” Vlad said, a beat too late and voice hoarse with sleep. Definitely not wrecked from the idea of Henry doing– of a dream where Henry.
Vlad was, miserably, hard. Luckily, they’d both started waking up that way years ago as a matter of pure biology. It wasn’t weird.
Even if all the ammunition had made things a bit more robust than the half-mast normal…
It wasn’t even a wet dream! Just Henry being fucking weird at him. Riling him up for no reason. A joke, probably.
Vlad shook himself in disgust.
“Did you throw a pillow at me?” He asked, catching up. He ran a hand through his hair and yawned wide enough that it cracked his jaw. His hair was, naturally, stuck up in every which direction.
“You wouldn’t wake up.” Henry shrugged. He didn’t look away. In fact, he looked right at Vlad. Brown eyes seemed to pin him in place. People usually looked around the room, right?
Henry didn’t always look at him like this, right?
Vlad fought the urge to pull the blanket up his chest like a Victorian maiden.
He remembered the way dream Henry’s voice didn’t match up with his actions– calling his name over and over, exasperated and impatient. It must have been real Herny’s voice breaking through the illusion, dubbing over it.
“I guess I was too deep asleep.” Vlad hoped his cheeks didn’t look as pink as they felt.
“Good dreams?” The smirk reappeared. His eyebrows wiggled. It shouldn’t have looked good on him.
“Shut up.” Vlad groaned. “Don’t be a dick. What time is it, anyway?”
“Early.” Henry walked further into the room, throwing Vlad a mostly clean shirt. “My family all went to church, but we don’t have to go. The downside is that they’re taking a small road trip after and we’re missing out.”
“Worth it.” Vlad collapses back down into the pillows, wrapping his arms around the one that was weaponized against him. “Wait. Why did you wake me up, then?”
“Well, they got me up to ask.” Henry explains, offended. “I’m your drudge. I suffer, you suffer.”
“Pretty sure it’s meant to be the other way around.” Vlad grins into his stolen pillow. “Dick. I’m going back to sleep.”
“You might as well get up and have breakfast. My mom made pancakes before they left.”
Vlad seriously thought about it. He groaned.
“Ugh, I can’t think. We didn’t go to bed until four.”
“Eh. Closer to five.” Tugging– Henry had walked over and was pulling the pillow out of Vlad’s hug. “I think that’s half the reason we got let off the hook. I did promise we wouldn’t throw a wild house party.”
“At seven in the morning on a Sunday?” Vlad asked, incredulous. Henry propped the pillow up behind his head and made himself comfy on the bed beside Vlad. For all that he’d thrown a shirt at Vlad, he wans’t dressed, either; he was wearing loose, low-strung pyjama pants and no top.
Henry shrugged.
“Mom logic, I guess. She thinks I’ll get into all different kind of trouble… can’t imagine where she got that idea.”
“It’s because you keep stealing the car and heading off on crazy adventures.” Vlad rolled over to face his friend, rubbing the crust from his eyes. “Oh, wait. You got away with most of those.”
“Ah, yes. ‘Adventures’. Because we have so much fun on those trips and nobody ever dies in front of us.” Henry said, wryly.
Vlad winced.
“Fair point, well made. Argument retracted.”
“Not very ‘debate team’ of you to give up an argument like that, hmm?” Henry turned to face him, resting his cheek on his forearm. Weak morning light dappled the bed.
Once, Vlad had been terrified of spending the night for just that reason; he went to sleep wearing sunscreen for years in case Henry’s mom threw open the curtains to wake them.
The idea of burning alive was a pervasive one; the idea of being the ignition point of a house fire that killed Henry and his family like Vlad’s parents…
He’d woken up screaming from more than one nightmare about it.
Now, though, fear was a distant memory. The sunlight was soft and gentle against his bare skin, and Henry was looking at him with a relaxed and unguarded expression.
He was still a little hard from the dream and this wasn’t helping, but Vlad felt safe.
Untouchable.
In direct defiance of the thought, Henry reached out to touch him. The barest brush of fingers over his cheek, and Vlad’s brow furrowed in confusion. Henry only snickered.
“You’ve got pillow wrinkles imprinted on your face.” He explained.
Vlad wrinkled his nose and batted the hand away.
Henry gamely dropped his hand– right on Vlad’s side, over the sheet.
The thin material was so thin it might as well have not been there at all, but Vlad was strangely glad for the barrier defending his bare skin. He swallowed. It suddenly became incredibly, incredibly weird that he was still a bit hard.
“So.” Henry said, awfully matter-of-fact for a non-sequitur. “I’ve got a confession.”
Vlad had to clear his throat.
“Yeah?” He croaked. Sleep still in his voice, that was all.
Henry paused. He leaned a little closer, squinting at Vlad’s face. Probably counting pillow lines.
“Sure you don’t wanna get breakfast first? It’s kinda heavy.”
“I’m not hungry.” Vlad lied, refusing to let his eyes dip down to Henry’s neck. His smell was everywhere– which made sense, this was his bed and he was right there— and Vlad’s mouth was watering, which didn’t make any sense at all.
Henry snorted.
“Dude. Just because you didn’t bring, like, strawberry blood syrup or whatever…”
Vlad shoved him with his free hand, pushing his hip bone. Henry rocked away and then back. Vlad realized how close they were. His hand fell awkwardly between them.
“Or maybe, you want something else?” Henry tilted his chin pointedly, baring his throat, and Vlad swallowed three times in three seconds around the pulse in his ears before he heard the offer in words.
(The offer in body language was more than clear, hitting him like a hammer, so abrupt it stirred instinct in his body and suddenly Vlad was wide awake.)
(The offer in body language was so loud it took him far too long to realize Henry’s words were an offer, too. That Vlad wasn’t just imagining it.)
“Henry.” He said, strangled. “Don’t joke like that.”
He tore his eyes away and up to Henry’s face. Brown eyes. Nose. He had a nose.
Lips.
“Not a joke.” Henry said quietly, but serious. His hand slid down a bit until it could hold onto Vlad’s hip firmly. His Adam’s apple bobbed– fuck. Vlad jerked his gaze up again.
He found he could stare at Henry’s mouth as he spoke almsot as easily as his throat.
Henry’s thumb rubbed against Vlad’s hip bone.
“So, here’s the thing. We never really talked about it, but…” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment and Vlad caught himself leaning forward the barest milimeter to watch closer.
Fuck, maybe he was watching Henry talk too closely, distracting himself too well…
“The bond we have. I know when you need me. When you’re in trouble.” Henry sighed. “We usually pretend it’s a complete coincidence.”
“We can keep pretending.” Vlad offered, whisper quiet. His heart was beating hard, almost painful with each thud, and loud in his ears. He could barely hear himself, but talking any louder felt– wrong.
They were close, cacooned in morning light and the sheets, alone in the house and whispering secrets usually left unsaid.
“Nah.” Henry flashed a grin at him, brighter than the sunlight. “I decided. We’re talking about it.”
“Why now?” Vlad asked, somewhat desperately. “Things were… we don’t have to talk about it.”
“Oh, we’re talking about it.” Henry scooted a little closer and Vlad forced himself to stay the most still. “Chill, it’s already happening. You might as well go with it.”
“You’re a dick.” Vlad muttered.
“I’m your dick.” Henry said, and they both took a moment to pull a face and decided whether they wanted to voice the juvenille joke they were both thinking. Eventually, they waved at it as it passed. “Your drudge, anyway. Did you know I’ve had wet dreams about Meridith since we were thirteen?”
“What!?”
Vlad would have jerked away if Henry hadn’t tightened his grip, pulling him closer.
Henry wet his lip nervously and Vlad was staring again. The blonde laughed at himself a little.
“No, listen– it’s not like that. It’s taken a while, but… I think I’ve got a good handle on when I want something and… when you want something. When you want something using my body.”
Vlad’s mouth dropped open. His throat spasmed.
“It’s not on purpose.” He found himself saying weakly. He squeezed his eyes closed.
“Oh, I know.” Henry sounded even closer in the dark. No, Vlad felt his breath– he’d leaned in. The hand at his hip disappeared and reached for his face again, cupping Vlad’s cheek. His thumb crossed the apple of it, reassuring. Enflaming.
“Listen– I can tell the difference, now. When I’m wanting something, or you’re… wanting it through me. Wanting it and I can feel it. I tested it out, a bit.”
Vlad didn’t open his eyes, but he frowned.
“All the junk food this week. You keep bringing me things. More than normal, I mean.”
Henry laughed, close enough that Vlad could feel the air waft over.
“Yeah. Turns out the ‘urge to bring Vlad a coke or a snack’ has been a subconscious drudge thing three times out of five.”
“That’s… not as bad as I thought it would be. Sometimes it was out of the goodness of your heart?” Vlad quirked a small smile.
“Yeah.” Breathy. Somehow even closer. “When I offered and you said no– that’s how I could tell it was just me wanting to bring you something. Wanting to be nice. I paid really close attention. I think I can tell the difference, now.”
He shifted his grip, turned Vlad’s chin closer. He rubbed his thumb against Vlad’s lower lip when it trembled.
“You’ve been wanting me to kiss you all week.” Henry murmured, sounding so damn sure.
Vlad inhaled roughly.
“Sorry.” He croaked.
“Don’t be.” Henry’s thumb left his mouth. Vlad had just a moment to mourn the loss before Henry leaned in and kissed him.
Soft, chapped lips. He tasted like pancakes and syrup, like hot coffee. He pulled back and Vlad’s eyes fluttered open to watch him.
Soft blonde hair haloed his face, rendered even more golden in the light. He looked angelic, tender, perfect.
The angel opened his mouth and said:
“So like, I’m pretty sure all those times I nearly jerked myself raw thinking about you biting me Sophomore year was all you, but I couldn’t tell the difference then.”
Vlad snorted and shoved him– not too hard.
He pushed his palm on Henry’s shoulder until the other boy was on his back and climbed on top of him, almost surprising himself with his boldness.
“Shut up.” Vlad laughed. “It was probably you. Everytime I told you about the club, you told me– you offered.”
He sounded aggrieved.
Henry’s pulse tripped into a sprint and Vlad’s eyes dilated hard.
“I mean…” Henry took the weight with good humor, settling both hands on Vlad’s hips. They both shivered. “Yeah, it might have been me. I’ve thought about it. Once or twice.”
He swallowed. Vlad’s eyes tracked the motion. He realized he was swaying ever so slightly along with the rate of Henry’s pulse. He snapped himself out of it.
Vlad was just wearing boxers. His half-chub kind of sat between them, visibly making the valiant journey toward ‘ready to cut glass’.
Henry’s eyes flicked down. He bit his lip again.
“Do you want to kiss me?” Vlad demanded, resting his hands on Henry’s stomach, feeling the muscle there. “You said you could tell the difference. Go ahead. Tell.”
Pink dusted Vlad’s cheeks.
Henry rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, man. I wouldn’t do it just because you wanted it. I’m not selfless over here.”
Vlad frowned a little. He slid his hands up to Henry’s pecs, pressed his weight forward. The other boy’s hands fell away. Henry inhaled a little sharply and Vlad let his hands drift– along Henry’s ribs, up his biceps, the soft curve of his elbow–
Axillary. Cephalic. Brachial. Median cubital.
— even the hair on Henry’s arms felt erotic under Vlad’s hypersensitive palms; exciting.
Radial. Median antebrechial.
He wrapped both hands around basilic and ulnar and shivered, held Henry’s wrists above the blonde’s head, pressed into the sheets.
“I could make you. Mind control. Strength.” His thumbs stroked the thin inner skin of both wrists.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Henry quipped, only to groan softly. “Tease. God, I want it.”
“What if I’m making you want me?” Vlad bit his own lip, unable to shake it.
“Fuck, Vlad. You are.” Fear tripped through him, but Henry was rising, tipping them– Vlad didn’t resist at all as he was tugged closer, pulled flush chest to chest. They ended up on their sides and Henry pressed their hips together, too– they were both equally interested. Equally hard.
“You’re so fucking hot. I can’t resist.” Henry panted in his ear, rolling their hips together clumsily, inexpertly.
“Really making me feel the lack of mind control here, dude.” Vlad complained, but it was a weak protest at best. His mouth dropped open and he was struggling to keep his breathing even– failing.
Failing to keep his breathing even.
Henry leaned in to bite his lip and Vlad almost lost his mind. His hand jerked out to pull Henry in for another kiss, deeper, wilder. Henry laughed against his mouth.
“Eager much?”
“You are literally— you know what, no. Too easy. God.” Vlad rolled his hips into Henry’s and the blonde cursed. “Yeah, fuck. You feel so good.”
“If you’re– if you’re that worried about it.” Henry grinned like an asshole. “I can be in charge. Do what I want with you.”
Vlad shot him an unamused look, mostly ruined by how his whole body was focused on the roll of his hips, muscles clenching and unclenching– abs, thighs, biceps where he held on. He felt the sweat start at his hairline, plastering the baby hairs to his forehead.
Bite me, he thought pointedly. Bite me, bite me, bite me, do it now, give me your teeth–
Henry groaned harshly and buried his teeth in Vlad’s shoulder, turning a sweet bite two shades past painful into a bruising, sucking kiss, and it was perfect, it was everything.
“Fair point, well made, argument retracted.” Henry chuckled breathlessly, kissing the skin in pointless apology. “Psych. I can resist as long as you don’t make it an order. You know I can.”
“I don’t know shit.”
“Last night you wanted to kiss me so bad it made you look stupid.” Henry protested. “And did I maul you on the living room couch with my family playing Super Smash? No, I did not.”
He captured Vlad’s lips in a heated kiss, and only very belatedly pulled back to let the vampire respond.
“Truly, the self control of legends.” Vlad forced himself to say, dry as he could make it when his mouth was still watering.
“You can hear my thoughts, right?” Henry rose both eyebrows because he’d never mastered the art of raising just one. Vlad rose one just to spite him and got a pinch for his trouble.
“Obviously, dude.” Vlad pinched him right back. “Since we were like, eight.”
“Right, anyway.” The mental image of Vlad on his knees hit him hard, fast, and more clear than any Sending they’d ever done, up to and including when one of their lives was in actual, mortal danger.
“Dude.” Vlad choked.
“If you want me to stop, you can make me. It’s fine if your mouth is full– you wouldn’t need to talk.” Henry leered playfully as he rubbed his thumb across Vlad’s lip again. This time, Vlad nipped at it.
Henry’s eyes went dark. He slid his thumb into Vlad’s mouth. Vlad’s lips fell open at once to accommodate it; he shivered at the taste of faintly salty, clean skin.
He remembered every time he’d bit his thumb for just enough blood to draw a glyph. How he would catch the skin against his eyetooth– on a fang— and the sharp taste of blood would bloom on his tongue, enticing, whetting his appetite even when it’s his own.
About how sweet Henry’s would be. He could tell just from this small taste.
Vlad’s eyes fluttered shut. He sucked a little on Henry’s thumb, pulling it further into his mouth, past his teeth, and Henry moaned like a porn actor.
“That feels so good and for what?” Henry demanded, offended. “It’s not even my dick!”
“It could be.” Vlad muttered, rough around the digit. Spit pooled at the corners of his mouth, kinda gross, but– well. He imagined it wouldn’t get any better if the thumb were…
Bigger.
More saliva pooled under his tongue, the opposite of helpful. His fangs ached.