Chapter Text
Ilay has a permanent smirk etched onto his face as he makes his way down the street, the brightly lit restaurant sign finally coming into view. His form fitting black suit hugs him tightly, highlighting his broad shoulders and tapered waist.
He flicks his hand out, noticing that he is right on time as displayed on his watch. Ilay runs the pad of his thumb over his gloved fingers, resisting the urge to run a hand through his styled hair. He’d spent enough time on it to know that it was perfect. Though normally Ilay didn’t put such a thorough amount of effort into his appearance— he would of course always look good anyway— but today was different.
Today he would get his hands on him.
Ilay could still remember him as if it’d been only yesterday. Ilay had been out drinking at a club, the low lighting and alcohol dimming his senses in a way he’d normally hate. Yet he was horny, in need of a good fuck, so he’d pulled himself into the nearest bar and began the hunt. He’d spotted the nearest slim guy with a pretty face and in less than 10 minutes he had him on his knees before him, their bodies pressed into an empty bathroom stall.
It’d taken only 5 minutes of a subpar blowjob, for Ilay to dismiss the guy, pushing past him even as he sputtered from his place on the floor. Ilay had taken a stool at the bar, expecting to have one more drink before moving on— perhaps to find someone else to satisfy his desires or to simply head home.
Before Ilay could signal the bartender, he was interrupted by a brash blonde-haired guy with his arm wrapped around him.
“C’mon lemme buy you a drink. I know you can’t resist me.” The blonde guy's voice was loud, so overwhelmingly loud that it grated on him. Ilay could read him, and understand his type immediately. The kind of guy who thought they could have whatever and whoever they wanted, no questions asked.
It was then that Ilay laid his eyes upon him. He was so completely average looking, with his cropped brown hair, tan skin and a form-fitting shirt that outlined his taut yet not overly muscular frame. Ilay was completely ready to disregard him, to turn his back on the average-looking man— yet something in his expression, in those eyes so deeply brown they almost appeared black intrigued Ilay. Their eyes locked in that moment, remained glued to the other even as the man chose that moment to pry himself from the blonde's grasp and elbow him straight in the face.
Ilay couldn’t help the surprise that he displayed on his face. Couldn’t help the way a smirk etched its way onto his features even as the blonde writhed in pain on the floor. Ilay was near enough that he’d heard the defined crack of the man's nose, and could see the way blood began to flow in a steady stream even as the man crumpled. Nobody else even seemed to notice.
Ilay watched as the man stared down at the other sprawled out on the floor for a moment, eyes igniting with such fierce emotion he couldn’t help when his cock twitched with renewed interest within the confines of his pants. The man turned and took the seat next to Ilay, pulling his right elbow forward as he attempted to examine it, muttering under his breath in annoyance.
Ilay’s eyes remained glued to him, an amused smirk resting on his lips.
“You got somethin’ to say?” The man's head whipped to Ilay, his words slurring slightly. It was easy to understand he was intoxicated, body slouching upon the barstool.
Ilays grin only widened.
Without hesitation his hand snaked forward, pulling the man's right arm towards himself by his firm bicep. And Ilay couldn’t help it if his fingers gave the man's arm a quick squeeze, fingers drifting lower before they stopped before his elbow.
Ilay kept his eyes on the man's face, observing as his eyebrows pinched together, so clearly confused as Ilay ran his finger across the bare skin of his arm.
“You’ve got his blood on you.” Ilay proved his point as he showed the man his black gloves which were now tinted with a deep red. The man gazed back at him for a second, his mouth hanging open almost in shock even as his gaze assessed Ilay.
Ilay kept the friendly smirk on his face, trying hard to fight the urge to pull the man closer, to force the blood-soaked finger down his throat and have it licked clean. He despised it when his hands were dirty.
When the man didn’t reply, instead continuing to stare at Ilay—with his head tilted slightly to the side and his eyes so expressive they captivated him—Ilay could almost imagine the other reactions he might draw from the man.
“Here.” Ilay drew the man's elbow in closer, releasing him for a second to peel off one of his black gloves, before using it to wipe away the remaining blood.
The man pursed his lips, the corners tipping down into a slight frown and Ilay wondered if he would ever speak to him.
“M’ sorry.” Once again Ilay couldn’t mask the surprise that passed over his face in time.
“Ya ruined your gloves f’r me.” The man waved the general area around his elbow, the frown still pursed upon his lips. He stopped for a second, glancing down at Ilays now bare hand which still firmly encircled his bicep.
“You have beautiful hands, y’know?” The man pulled his bicep from Ilays grip, instead turning it around on him as he pulled Ilays large pale hand forwards, placing his palm flat against the bartop as he stared almost reverently.
Ilay studied his face, his hand twitching slightly as the man began to trace the veins running across the back of his hand, his fingertips smooth. Ilay tipped his head forward, his head inching closer— face betraying nothing even as he began to imagine all the ways he would break this man before him.
The man seemed to shake it off then, head snapping up again as he noticed how much closer Ilays face had inched forward.
“You’re the first to tell me that.” The man seemed puzzled for a moment before he realized Ilay was responding to his earlier statement.
“That’s strange..” The man mutters the words almost to himself and Ilay had to strain to make them out.
“Why’s that?” Ilays lips quirk up as if he can sense the man about to say something which will once again oppose Ilays preconceived notion of him.
The man hesitates, his fingers still idly tracing the veins on the back of Ilay’s hand. His brow furrows slightly, and he tilts his head, almost as if he’s trying to figure out a puzzle. Then he says it, his voice quiet yet firm.
“Because you look like someone who’s heard that a thousand times… but still doesn’t believe it.”
Ilay can’t help the way a genuine chuckle bursts from his lips, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he lets himself simply laugh for the first time in who knows how long.
“C’mon— was tryin’ to be serious. I heard it from somewhere and it sounded so cool..” Ilay tries to force the laughter back down as he notices the way the man's smile dips lower. Yet another sadistic part of himself feeds off of the look on his face and wonders what other expression he would make splayed over Ilays cock. And suddenly he’s no longer laughing.
The man looks away for a second, his left hand reaching around to the back pocket of the jeans that hug his ass so perfectly. He pulls out his wallet, reaching inside it before he grabs a few bills and tosses them Ilays way.
“Here, for your gloves.” The man stands abruptly from his stool as Ilay watches the last bill drift slowly down in front of him. All the humour vanishes from Ilays demeanour as he watches the man turn his back on him and begin to walk away. He feels a strong sense of rage rise up within his chest at the feeling of simply being discarded by the man.
Ilay pushes up from his stool as well, following after the man’s retreating back.
“You know we never finished talking.”
“Look, you’re not my type.” Ilay felt his jaw clench at the words, as the man didn’t even stop, didn't even spare him a glance instead continuing on his way.
“And I never said you were mine.” Ilay counters, his next strides long as he catches up to the man, weaving through the mess of bodies. “Do correct me if I’m wrong but wasn’t it you who was stroking my hands and calling them ‘beautiful’ only moments earlier?”
The man whips around and Ilay licks his lips in satisfaction as their eyes meet again.
Ilay can't help but notice the man's face which is now flushed red. His eyes narrowed slightly in accusation, that fiery temper aimed directly at Ilay. His fists clench and unclench at his sides, brows drawn together in clear frustration.
Ilay watches as his plump lips part, as if he’s about to contradict Ilay yet instead he pauses— his mouth so invitingly open. Ilay makes his move then. In a single stride he’s standing directly before him, his arms snaking around his lithe waist before pulling their bodies flush together. He feels the man tense against him, a whoosh of breath leaving him as he’s pulled into Ilays space.
Ilay tightens his grip on the man's waist yet he doesn’t seem to struggle in his grip, instead tilting his head up, meeting Ilays eyes even as his face remains decidedly flushed.
“Can’t believe I’ve gotta do this twice in one night..” That's all the warning Ilay gets before the man twists harshly within his grip, pulling free of Ilays bruising hands on his hips. He’s completely stunned when the man shoves harshly into his chest with his shoulder, his foot moving with precision and slamming down onto Ilays. He ducks from his hands before he can readjust, taking off into the crowd.
Ilay stands there, momentarily stunned that he’d been hit, let alone how the man had managed to make a full escape. His hands flex, fingers twitching— aching even— to claw their way through him, dig into his flesh down to the bone. Ilay grinds his teeth, jaw clenched so tightly he’s practically seething.
He wants to track him down, wants to pin him against him and find out just what other expressions he could drag out of him. What sounds he would make so deep in ecstasy? Yet Ilay knows that it’s too late, that he’s surely long gone— he can almost imagine those full lips exhaling in relief, safe and sound within the confines of his home. It makes Ilay want him so much more.
After that Ilay had left the bar, pocketing the few bills that remained upon the bar top. He’d practically prowled his way home, his mind replaying the moment Ilay finally had him in his arms before he’d managed to slip away.
Ilay felt as if in the next few weeks he’d been reinvigorated with new energy— reinvented even— as he spent every waking moment searching. He stopped by that same bar every night, stalking across the floor, picking through the bodies, trying to recognize that slim waist his hands had roamed. Yet as if the man could sense that he was being hunted, he never once showed up.
Who Ilay did find was the man that had been with him that day. He was sprawled atop the bar, head held in his hands with his eyes squeezed shut. Ilay couldn’t hold back the satisfaction he felt at seeing the man's nose wrapped in gauze.
It only took a simple question and a few well-placed threats for the man to offer up his name. Taeui. Though most people call him Tay. His name flows off Ilays tongue as if he was made to say it. Ilay leaves the bar with a pleased smile on his face that day.
Ilays search comes to a screeching halt after that, he no longer stops by the bar daily, and no longer waits around the entrance, scanning each person who enters. Instead, Ilay decides that maybe it’s time to let Taeui go, let him slip away like a fleeting memory.
But it’s as if the universe simply cannot accept this. On a whim Ilay decides to stop by his brother's house— their childhood home really, though Ilay no longer thinks of it as such— and he finds his brother deep in conversation with a man on his laptop, his face taking over the screen. There’s something almost familiar in his face, yet the carefully curated smile that rests on his lips is decidedly unfamiliar. Ilay is ready to disregard him, to leave his brother who is engrossed in the conversation when he notices. Behind the man on the screen, perched atop a mahogany desk, sits a picture frame.
The man on the screen is in it, hands wrapped around two much younger boy’s shoulders. The one on the right is unfamiliar, yet as Ilays eyes catch on the one on the left, he knows it’s him immediately. Thats Taeui.
He’s so utterly sure of it that he strides over to his brother, plucking the laptop off the table and beginning to chat with the other man. It only takes Ilay around 20 minutes to successfully convince the man to set him up on a blind date with his nephew, although, with the glimmer Ilay spots hiding in the man's eyes, he assumes he has ulterior motives.
Once the date had been set, all Ilay had to do was wait.
He’s snapped from the memory as he pushes open the door to the restaurant. Giving the waiter a curt nod before striding into the restaurant, so sure that Taeui was there already, waiting for him.
On the far end of the restaurant, his eyes snag on him. Taeui is dressed in a white button-up, the sleeves rolled to his mid-forearms, exposing his thin tan wrists that Ilay can imagine pinning. His hair is slightly ruffled, the front strands falling over his forehead in a rumpled wave. His rich eyes are cast downwards as his hand fidgets with a silver chain that peeks through the top few open buttons of his shirt, contrasting against his tan skin.
Ilay runs his tongue over his teeth, peering down at his gloved hands before making his way over to Taeui.
“You must be Taeui.” Ilay can’t help the predatory edge that his voice holds as he stands directly above Taeui. After nearly 2 months of searching he’s finally within his grasp, Ilay could simply reach out and touch him. Maybe he’d twist his fingers into his hair, yank his head back and force Taeui to meet his gaze. He’d pry his mouth open with his fingers, and run the pad of his thumb along those lips before leaning down to spit in his mouth, forcing him to swallow it.
“Ah— you’re Ilay?” The surprise is evident in Taeuis voice, yet instead of the recognition that Ilay expected to see register on the man’s features, all he sees is a slight confusion as his gaze assesses Ilay.
Ilay realizes then that he doesn’t recognize him. And he can’t help the cold rage that simmers deep inside him, a tight-lipped smile on his face.
“Is something wrong?” Ilay tilts his head as he speaks, taking in Taeui’s expression as he seems lost in thought. “Are you disappointed?” Ilay gestures at himself, waving his gloved hand in front of his body.
“No— sorry, you’re just not what I expected.” Taeui’s eyebrows furrow slightly, seemingly remaining trapped within his mind. Ilay won’t have that.
“What did you think I’d be like? Am I not good-looking enough?” Ilay pauses, noticing the blush that colours Taeuis's face slightly at his words. “Because I’ve never had anyone complain about that before.”
He takes the seat across from Taeui, placing his gloved hands forward on the table as he stares back at Taeui expectantly.
“I didn’t mean it in that way, it’s just— ah how should I word this..” Taeui stopped himself, tugging his lower lip between his teeth as he contemplated.
“With honesty perhaps?”
“Alright. You’re not my usual type.” He speaks the words so bluntly, dark eyes meeting Ilays yet never looking away. The corner of Ilays mouth ticks upwards slightly.
“Is that so? Well let me be honest as well, you’re not my type either.” Ilay leans forward, his hand slinking towards Taeuis which rests palm up on the edge of the table. His gloved fingers lightly trace Taeui’s palms and to his surprise, the other man doesn’t pull his hand away. He sees his eyes catch on Ilays gloves, a dim flicker of recognition passing through them before fading away.
“Then why did you ask my uncle to set us up on a date?” Taeui counters yet his tone remains calm, eyes still glued to Ilays fingers which trace idle patterns into his skin.
“Let me ask you something instead.” Ilay pauses, leveling his gaze with Taeui’s, giving his palm a light pinch which makes him huff out a breath in surprise. “Why did you agree to go out with me?”
Taeui purses his lips, seemingly unwilling to answer.
“It appears we’ve reached a stalemate.” Ilay lets the grin finally spread across his face, enjoying the frustrated expression that passes over Taeuis.
“Why don’t we start over? We may not be each other’s types, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to give it a chance, hm?” Taeui glanced at him, clearly considering Ilays words carefully.
“Sure.” His eyes slipped downwards, once again falling to the gloves on Ilays hands. “How do you feel about a little Q&A, we take turns asking each other questions?”
Ilay watched his face, finding it to be just as expressive as that night at the bar— his emotions practically written there for Ilay to see.
“It appears you already have something you want to ask me so go ahead Taeui.” Ilay makes sure to pronounce his name flawlessly, letting it drip from his tongue as if it were made to.
“Why are you wearing gloves?” Taeui waves his hand at Ilays which are still resting on the table.
“Because I like them.”
Taeui scrutinizes him, his eyes mapping out the lines of Ilays face as if searching for something. “That’s not the reason why.”
Ilay can’t help the chuckle that leaves his mouth, even as the smirk on his lips stretches wider. “Fine, I can’t stand the feeling of having blood on my hands.”
Ilay watches as Taeui stares at him unblinking, brows furrowing in a way Ilay was coming to love, that same confused expression winding its way onto Taeuis face.
“And you think.. that you’ll get blood on your hands here?” Ilay shrugs at this, revelling in the shock he’d managed to instil within Taeui this time.
“That's another question Taeui, you’ll have to wait your turn.”
He hadn’t been completely truthful though, Ilay had decided to wear gloves today to hide the same hands that Taeui had once called beautiful. To only reveal them when the perfect moment presented itself.
Ilay pauses, bringing his hand up to his face, giving the impression of thinking even while he knows full well what he intends to ask.
“If I’m not your type then what is?” Ilay expects Taeui to flounder slightly, that same blush to coat his cheeks yet instead his face remains impassive and he responds all too quickly for Ilays liking.
“Thin guys, pretty face.” He responds with a shrug.
“So all you care about is looks?” Ilay shoots back, though his smile remains even.
“I don’t like people who are bigger than me,” Taeui answers back in that same monotone voice. The waiter finally comes by, their conversation halts as he places two glasses of ice-cold water on the table. He gives them another few minutes to look over the menu though neither is all that interested in food now that they’d begun practically interrogating the other.
“Alright, my turn again.” Ilay only grins back at Taeui in response. “Do you normally get blood on your hands when you go places?”
“Sure, never know who has it out for you, right Taeui?” Taeui stares back at him without speaking, eyes taking in every inch of Ilays grinning face.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Taeui draws his hands in, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back away from the table in his seat.
“As I said before, that’s another question.” Taeui grits his teeth, jaw clenching as he doesn’t even attempt to hide the glare he sends Ilay. It makes Ilays cock twitch within his pants.
Taeui reaches for his water, taking a long swig as his fingers grip the bottom of the glass far too tightly. Ilay watches the way his throat bobs with each swallow, a drop of water escaping his lips, running down the side of his mouth before his tongue laps it up.
“Have you ever bottomed before?” Ilay doesn’t hesitate, speaking with such confidence. Taeui practically choked on his last mouthful of water, eyes going wide before they shifted into that same glare that Ilay finds so amusing.
“No.” Taeui practically grits the words out, his fists clenching slightly. Ilay only stares back, that same smirk glued to his face.
“Ah, I almost forgot.” Ilay pauses, reaching into his left pocket, pulling those same bills Taeui had thrown at him on that night from his pocket. “These are for you.”
“What? What are these for?” Taeui gapes at him, face going from furious to confused within seconds. Ilay only responds with a shrug, leaving Taeui to contemplate on his own. He can see behind his eyes that Taeui is so close to unlocking the memories, only missing one final push.
The next hour passes by in a blur, they continue with the questions for a while longer, though the questions have mellowed. They order food when the waiter finally returns and as they eat it’s almost as if they begin to get along.
Taeui still holds that same fire in his eyes, yet when he speaks to Ilay his voice has softened slightly. They speak of their interests, finding that they both enjoy reading classics before delving into a conversation about some of their favourites.
The night nearing its end when Ilay removes his glove.
He peels the black fabric off his fingers one by one, revealing the pale skin and veins that run along the backs of his hands. Taeuis eyes snag immediately, the final piece seeming to fall into place as he stares back at Ilay with thinly veiled recognition.
Ilay grins back.
“Something you want to ask Taeui?” Ilay tilts his head to the side, removing his final glove and crossing his hands on the table. Taeuis eyes stay locked onto his hands, almost as if he hadn’t heard the question at all.
“Will you excuse me..” Taeui gestures towards the restroom on the other side of the restaurant, not even waiting for a reply before he pushes himself up from the table.
Ilay stays seated, deciding to give Taeui exactly 3 minutes before he would come after him. He stares down at his watch, eyes following the arm as it winds its way around. He pushes himself from his chair, leaving his gloves on the table as he turns to follow Taeui, mind already planning everything he would do.
Yet when he pushes the door to the bathroom open the last thing he expects to see is Taeui sprawled out on the floor, eyes shut with a pained expression on his face. Ilay’s good mood immediately dissipates, striding forward to examine Taeui who’s lying completely motionless. The only sign he’s even still alive is his chest which is falling in strained pants.
Ilay pulls Taeuis limp body into his lap, his hand cupping behind Taeuis head, holding him up. Taeui shifts slightly, tilting his face away from Ilay and that's when Ilay notices the two puncture marks on the side of his neck. His body immediately stills, jaw clenching as he regards the man in his arms.
Ilay brings his fingers up, running them over the wound. Taeui lets out a pained groan at the feeling, eyelids fluttering as Ilay tips his head closer. He can smell the blood in the air, yet it’s combined with a scent that's almost sickeningly sweet.
Ilays rage hits him like a blow to the head, the thought of someone else having got to his prey first, someone else having laid their greedy paws on what belonged to him, the proof of it on full display for Ilay to see.
The scent in the air thickens suddenly, a whine escaping Taeuis throat. Ilay glances down to see that Taeuis usually tan skin has gone frighteningly pale. And suddenly an odd thought floats its way into Ilays brain.
He brings his other hand up, prying open Taeuis lips with his fingers, squeezing his jaw so Taeui opens his mouth. Ilay sees them immediately— how could he not— Taeuis canine teeth have grown sharper, longer even so that they’re much more prominent than his other teeth. Ilay runs the pad of his finger over one of them and is unsurprised when they prick his skin, a drop of blood pooling there before falling into Taeuis mouth.
The reaction is instantaneous, Taeuis mouth clamping down on Ilays finger as his tongue swirls around it to lap up each drop of spilt blood. Taeuis eyes remain closed throughout it yet the expression of pure bliss that crosses his face is enough to confirm everything Ilay had been thinking.
Taeui was becoming a vampire.