Chapter Text
Regulus met James by being in the wrong place at the wrong time, which was entirely his own fault.
He had just moved out on his own, and as a newly independent student with two part-time jobs, he wasn’t living in the best neighborhood.
He had been advised not to wander his neighborhood late at night. The area was known for dark creatures frequenting the shadows, and at 2 am, the whole city was shadows.
The thing was, Regulus didn’t really care.
He was shit at time management, especially when he didn’t have a set schedule, so it was going to happen sometimes. He would end up occasionally catching the absolute last train of the night till 6 am after losing track of time while at Barty and Evans' apartment. It wasn’t as if he was going to interact with anybody or enter any establishment. The train was only two blocks from his apartment. It wasn't a big deal.
Why bother spending the night when he could be in his own apartment?
The way he saw it, in the best-case scenario, he makes it to his apartment quickly and sleeps in his own bed. Worst-case scenario, he dies and would never have to go back to either of his shitty jobs or write another unnecessary assignment.
It seemed like a win-win to him.
Not to mention the very, very small part of himself that brought up an improbable scenario. A scenario where he gets to experience something very similar to something he had experienced while still living with his parents nearly two years ago now.
He had been just freshly 18, feeling somehow lower than he did now at 21. He was wandering the area around the estate late at night since insomnia seemed his own personal dark creature during that time.
She had been a vampire. She didn’t show her face; she had a low hood and a mask. She was rather polite, and her voice sounded like she had been around his mother's age. She referred to herself as a kind drinker. She said she never took enough to threaten a human’s life; she would take just enough to take the edge off her hunger. She even told him if he passed out into her arms, she would make sure to leave him where he would be found first thing.
How courteous.
He had been a bit scared then, Not so much about dying but more about the fact that her powers left him immobile, standing there leaning against a thick tree trunk. She even made him move his own head to the side so she could reach his neck. She didn’t even touch him with her hands or body; she used her hands on either side of his head as he leaned in, to support herself.
And then her teeth sunk into him.
The experience was almost indescribable. It hurt a bit at entry, but the pain wasn’t so bad and was quickly forgotten as her small meal began.
If he had to pick one word to describe it, he would have to say erotic. There was something about the sensation with its tinge of pain, the position he was physically in, and the thrill of the danger that left him feeling, for lack of a better description, more turned on than he had ever been in his life to that point.
It had waned a little when he remembered it was a woman crowding him against the tree, but he was too far in the closet back then to quite realize why.
He had also realized, about halfway through her slow suck on his neck, that he was no longer immobile. He, however, kept his body extremely still because he wasn’t dumb enough to try and escape with fangs in his neck.
Nor was he even rushing to.
Luckily, he did not pass out in her arms. Sure, he was dizzy and felt very weak, but he still managed to make it all the way to the servant's bell in the living room before he passed out.
That entire experience certainly stuck with Regulus.
Months before that, he had started learning how to draw. Human anatomy was his favorite thing to practice on, and with a woman stuck in his head that he couldn’t forget, he started, sketching her. Seeing as most of her face had been covered, he could only really draw her eyes with accuracy, but he filled in the rest with his own guesses. He filled an entire sketchbook, eventually, with just pictures of her face in the few expressions he remembered based on her eyes, and a few more just for practice. And though he had not gotten to look at her all that much during the encounter, she appeared in his dreams, enough for him to at least have an image of her in his mind regardless of its accuracy.
And though it had taken him days to fully recover his strength after that, he would do it again.
He didn’t think he could be so lucky though.
But he didn’t think to try very hard to avoid it either.
He had managed to make it home multiple times completely unscathed. So many times, in fact, that he stopped thinking about it so much.
That night, he hadn't been thinking about it at all.
Until he suddenly, out of his control, turned the corner off the main street and into an alleyway between businesses.
He realized a second too late that something was wrong. Before he could even attempt to run, he was pinned against the brick wall by unseen forces. Unable to do anything at all besides watch as his attacker stepped out of the shadows.
Likely, the most attractive man Regulus had ever laid eyes on, was suddenly standing in front of him. He was at least a foot taller than Regulus, muscular, and broad. He had tan skin, with a vampire's typical cool tones, and fluffy hair, messy but in a sexy way. Had this been in any other context, Regulus might have wanted to take him home.
Even in this context, he kind of wanted to.
But one thing he realized right away is the starkest difference between his previous encounter. He was showing his entire, perfectly symmetrical and chiseled face.
There was no way they were going to let Regulus live.
As if he could hear Regulus’s inner monologue, he started talking in a slow, deep voice, like molasses, “Hello. You’re fortunate tonight. For better or for worse, I can guarantee you will make it out of this alive, so don't go writing your will yet.”
“Yeah, right.” It slipped out of Regulus’s mouth before he could stop it, and the cavalierness seemed to surprise both of them.
“A little skeptical?” The man asked, his face easing back into its confident expression.
Regulus also noticed he was slowly getting closer.
“You're not bothering to hide what you look like at all. You'll let me live knowing I know exactly what you are?” Regulus explained.
That earned a dry laugh from the cold one, “I’m a traveler. You can see me now, because you’ll never see me again.”
Regulus ignored the part of him that didn't want that to be a promise.
“You might as well just kill me. I’m a loose end.” He said instead.
Suddenly, the distance between them was closed, and the man was inches away, his eyes boring holes right through his own, yet Regulus couldn't look away.
“What's your name, baby?” The vampire asked, and Regulus was confident he would have melted if he could move.
“Regulus.” He spilled seemingly involuntarily, swallowing at the pet name as an afterthought. “And yours?”
“You can call me James.” James half whispered, “Do you want me to kill you, Regulus?”
The vampire had to have some powers that Regulus was unfamiliar with because there was no way he would have been able to respond without missing a beat after hearing the gravelly question otherwise. “It would probably be easier than what you claim you're going to do instead.”
The vampire pulled back a little, not surprised this time, but intrigued, “How so?”
“If you drink from me just enough, I’ll live, but I’ll still be exhausted tomorrow and probably have to call out of work. If I don't go in, I won’t get paid. At least if you kill me, I won't have to worry about rent.”
“You're blaming me for being out of sick days?” James raised an eyebrow.
“It's a part-time job; they aren't required to provide benefits, so they don't. I don't have sick days.” Regulus spit back dryly, which only seemed to amuse the vampire more.
“Well, that sucks.” Regulus detected a bit of genuine empathy, which surprised him almost as much as what came out of his own mouth next.
“Not as much as you do.” If he had control of his limbs, he would’ve face palmed at his own sentiment.
The vampire looked at him for a moment before a shocked chuckle burst through his lips. “Was that… Was that a vampire pun? You did not strike me as type.”
“I’m not.“ Regulus answered, a little embarrassed, “I just happened to spend too much of my time around people who are the type. And I can’t seem to control my words around you.“
Something about James’ smile at his response lit a fire in Regulus’ stomach. The vampire leaned in till he was a breath away from the side of his neck, “That seems to be a common problem.”
And then, pain.
But no more pain than the first time; however, it felt infinitely more pleasurable.
He couldn’t tell if maybe he had some sort of kink that he had yet to fully realize, or James was somehow doing this to him. Once again, he felt control return to his hands, but once again, he made no attempt to escape. And though he wanted to escape this even less than he had wanted to escape the woman, he suddenly had the thought that maybe his perceived freedom was an illusion. He went to move his arm to test it and found himself resting it on the chest a few inches away from his. The vampire was wearing multiple layers, but he could still feel the hard lines of the defined chest, and he wished more than anything that it was pressed against him.
The moment James pulls away from him, is lost to Regulus’ black hole of a memory. One minute, he’s pressed against the cold yet warm man, draining his life force; the next, he is alone, back against the cold and unforgiving brick of the alleyway. He wastes a few precious moments looking for the man he had hoped to at least say a few more words to, but he was nowhere to be found, or at least nowhere to be seen.
Regulus doesn’t really remember any of the walk back to his apartment, but the next morning, he is safe in his bed with a raging headache and a dizziness he know he won’t shake for at least another 12 hours.
He grabs his phone and calls his boss trying to explain what happened. They dismiss him as lying to cover up a hangover and remind him that he’ll be losing out on the wages for the day and hang up. He knew that would happen, but he had to try at least. When he finally feels well enough to get out of his bed, he notices the envelope on the table. He didn’t remember bringing any mail in when he came in the night, but then again, he didn’t remember at all coming in.
He didn’t suspect anything unusual until he read the beautifully written script in place of an address.
Apologies for the inconvenience. I hope this helps.
-James
Reg stared at the envelope for a moment before ripping it open to find a stack of $20 bills equaling $1000.
“What the fuck?“ Regulus found himself saying out loud. He remembered telling the vampire that he would be out his wages for the next day, but this had been the last thing he would expect.
And maybe, that would be a mistake on the vampire's part because that is what causes Regulus to reach for his sketchbook, the vague, blurry, and dark image of the vampire in his mind as fresh as it would be.