Fic: A Choice (Hermione/Sanguini)
Title: A Choice
Characters/Pairings: Hermione/Sanguini
Rating: Adult
Summary: Sanguini offers to help Hermione understand the changes she’s experiencing
Word Count: 3100
A/N: This involves a vampire and thus has reference to biting and minor bloodplay.
juju84’s prompt: Dance. Hope you enjoy this, hon!
It’s been nine days since everything changed. Only seven days for Hermione to hide herself away in her flat with the drapes drawn tight while she’s thought about everything in such excruciating detail that she’s surprised she still has her sanity. Though, honestly, there are times that she’s no longer sure of even that. It’s her own fault, too, which makes it far worse. There’s no one to really blame but herself, since she knew better. Trust her to survive a war and be so clever about so many things yet not heed the warnings that even the worst witches and wizards know.
There have been several days in the past nine that she’s been tempted to do something foolish and rash, to just end it all because she’s terrified of what she’s done, uncertain about everything, and her books aren’t providing her with any clues whatsoever. Normally, she can find solace in her books, but they are so vague or misinformed that they aren’t a help at all right now. Nothing is. It’s such a mess, and she isn’t sure where to even start to make it better or if it can actually get better at all.
Harry is so upset and worried that he keeps trying to see her and owling when she refuses to open the door, and Ron’s sent her howlers since she closed her Floo and warded the flat so that no one alive can get through them. They’ll blame her, she knows they will even if they won’t actually say it, and she’s not sure she can be around them without hurting them, and that’s the last thing she wants to do. When she woke at St. Mungos, when they brought her home, it hurt so very much trying to resist the natural urge she felt to attack them and make them hers. They’re her family, and her own complacency and utter disregard for her own safety has lost them for her.
The sharp knock on the door startles her. Hermione looks at it for a moment before she turns away, knowing that whoever is there will go away eventually. They always do, and she can no longer hear Harry or Ron trying to talk to her since she put up the silencing charms. It hurts her heart to listen to them, to know they don’t understand this any more than she does, to realize that everything’s different now and will never be normal again.
When the door suddenly swings open, she is too surprised to even reach for her wand. Instead, she has to fight the rush of primal energy coursing through her that’s telling her to protect herself and to attack. It gnaws at her, the power still not merging with her magic, and she feels as if she’s going to explode from the way it is constantly a fight for control. Her nails are digging into her palms, the scent of fresh blood reaching her nose, and she keeps resisting the new instincts that she doesn’t understand even after nine days.
“Fighting isn’t going to do you any good, beautiful. This is who you are now, and the faster you accept it, the easier it will be.”
At the slightly familiar voice, Hermione looks up. “What are you doing here?”
Sanguini smirks as he shuts the door behind him and approaches her. “Ginny Potter contacted me. Delightful girl, met her through dear old Horace. She told me about your situation, though I had obviously already heard about it. Whispers regarding the incident are all over the community. I assumed you were handling it since I’d not heard from you.”
Hermione watches him with narrowed eyes, but she doesn’t feel the same desire to attack that she’s felt around her friends. “I’m sure the news isn’t just in your community.”
“It’s being kept relatively quiet, actually.” He steps closer and sniffs the air. “You’re starving yourself. That surprises me, Hermione. I thought you were a fighter, not one to simply give up and waste away.”
“I’ve not given up,” she denies, cowering away from him as he gets near. She can sense a power in him now that she hasn’t before, and she knows he’s an elder that she must respect. “What is that?”
He arches a brow and studies her a moment. “I wish you had contacted me from the beginning. I could have assisted you through all of this.” He shakes his head. “After everything you’ve done for my kind, it’s the least I could do.”
“I didn’t think about it.” The admission is reluctant because Hermione hates having to confess that she’s been so desperate to figure this out on her own that she hadn’t considered contacting someone to help. She looks up at him and bites her lip. “Can you help me now, Sanguini?”
He steps forward and reaches down to stroke his cool fingertips across the column of her neck. “The creature that did this was not one of ours,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the mark that’s been there for nine days. “Your magic helps keeps your soul bound to you, but this was not a consensual gift given the way we practice. Tell me what happened.”
His touch is calming her, and she is fighting the urge to bare her neck and offer herself to him. Considering they had met dozens of times over the past five years since she started working on improved legislation for various magical creatures and she never once thought about him in a sexual way, she knows it has to be due to the change. Looking at his angular face and dark hair, she has to be honest with herself and acknowledge that perhaps the thought had entered her mind one or two times, because he is a handsome man, likely the reason he had been chosen to receive the bite many centuries ago by his sire, and he’s forever twenty-two, the age he’s told her he was when he turned.
“Poppet, you are going to make me uncomfortable with your staring,” he murmurs, continuing to stroke his thumb across her neck. The words are an echo of what she had told him during their first meeting all those years ago, and a ghost of a smile crosses her lips at the memory. He sits beside her, and she unconsciously adjusts her position so that she can continue to see him. “Ginny Potter told me only the barest of details, said it was your story to tell.”
“It’s my fault,” she whispers. “I heard two aurors discussing a rabid vampire, and I foolishly thought I could go and protect him because they intended to resolve the problem with whatever force was necessary. I didn’t realize he was different.”
“Yes, I read of the Muggle vampire who attacked a family in Dorset. They’re little more than animals obsessed with the blood lust.” Sanguini strokes his knuckles along the curve of her jaw. “You went off to save the creature then?”
Hermione nods. “I arrived before the aurors, and I tried to reason with him, but he was diseased. He attacked me so quickly that I couldn’t even use my wand. I fought him with my bare hands and…my teeth. Bit at him when he covered my mouth. The Healer thinks that’s what caused my infection,” she says. “I was unconscious when the aurors arrived, for all appearances dead, and he was gone because I managed to kill him somehow. He just evaporated into ash, is what the aurors suspect. It was over a day before I woke at St. Mungos with the diagnosis of vampire.”
“The aurors are likely correct. That breed turn to dust when they are slain,” Sanguini confirms. “This isn’t a disease, Hermione. You aren’t simply diagnosed, and there is no cure. You’ll live for an eternity, if you choose. Some cannot, they take their own lives because it is easier for them than continuing to survive when everything is constantly changing in the world around us. You are strong, though, even if your recent behavior seems to indicate otherwise.”
“I don’t want to be immortal,” she whispers. “My friends are going to grow old, and I’ll be like this forever. I’ll watch them die, and it hurts too much to think about.”
“It isn’t about want, unfortunately. You are, and you will either find the strength to learn and live or you will waste away.” Sanguini strokes the bite mark on her neck. “This wound hasn’t healed yet because you refuse to feed. If you continue to starve, you’ll become a monster like the man who bit you, so desperate for sustenance that you’ll attack anyone. Do you understand?”
“Is that why I can’t be around my friends without feeling the urge to attack?” Hermione licks her lips and thinks about what he’s said. “How can you stand watching everyone around you grow old and die?”
“In the centuries that I’ve been alive, I’ve realized that life is similar to a dance. Each mortal’s lifetime is a new dance, and you must choose whether you’re going to enjoy the dance regardless of the pain of loss at the end when they pass before a new dance begins or if you’re going to miss it all because of fear and simply hide away from life and love,” he tells her. “I was also fortunate enough to have a sire who gave me the choice from the start. I was orphaned, my wife had passed away during childbirth, my city was in turmoil due to invaders, and the Empire was not yet at any strength to make me feel as if I had a future ahead of me. It was a logical choice, and I have never regretted it. My sire eventually drifted out of my life when he created a new childe, and I was ready to sire my own.”
“I wasn’t given a choice,” she reminds him. While she doesn’t think magical creatures are any different from humans, it’s still not a choice she’d have made because she’s always envisioned getting married, having children, growing old, and dying. The typical life cycle is comfortable for her, and she has no sire to help her the way he speaks of his. “I have no one.”
“You have friends who are loyal to you regardless of the change you’re undergoing. There is support in my---in our---community already because of all you have done for us.” He leans in slightly, his fingers stroking the bite mark as he stares into her eyes. “I am also currently without a childe, and you’ve always fascinated me, so I’d like to offer to reclaim you as mine, if you wish. I can teach you and lead you through the changes this has caused. A choice, poppet. But you should be aware that I shall claim you both body and soul if you agree. We will dance together for many lifetimes, I think.”
“You could help me understand?” Hermione looks into his blue eyes and considers the offer. Having a choice settles something inside her, makes her feel more in control, and she knows he’s sincere in regards to teaching her what she needs to know to survive this way. Perhaps he can also teach her how to handle the blood lust so that she can be around those she loves without wanting to attack them. There’s also a part of her that welcomes the possibility of not being alone when everyone else grows old and dies.
“Of course.” He spares a glance at the books and parchment she has lying around. “You cannot always find the right answers in written text, poppet. I know the way you’ve changed, I understand what you need, and I can help you adjust. There will be things that that can’t be changed, though. Your rights are limited to the legislation that was recently passed. There will be those who believe you’re a monster or inferior simply because you’re now a vampire. There are those who hunt us for sport, in the Muggle world, but I can teach you how to make your new power and your magic cohesive and harmonious. It takes time and effort, but it’s achievable.”
“What’s your name?” she asks quietly. “I mean, your given name. I understand everyone calls you Sanguini, but I want to know your real name.”
He seems surprised at the question, and he studies her a moment before he nods once. “My given name is Nikolaos Silvanus. I acquired the moniker Sanguini over two centuries ago when I traveled to this country. At the time, I wanted a new start, so I left Nikolaos behind in my country and started over as Sanguini.”
Hermione is pleased that he told her. It makes her think he’s legitimate in his offer to teach her and help her adjust to being perpetually twenty-four while having to continuously resist the blood lust that gnaws at her. “I accept your offer, Nikolaos,” she murmurs, instinctively barring her neck to him when his eyes flash at her words.
“I accept you as my childe, Hermione.” He leans down and nuzzles at the bite mark on her neck. “We must consummate the bond for it to go into effect.”
Consummate. Hermione has a pretty good idea what that means, and her body is reacting to the feel of his lips pressing against her neck. The struggle she’s been feeling since waking at St. Mungos is quieter with him here, and she’s able to think clearer than she has in days. Reaching up, she moves her fingers into his long black hair. “Make me yours, Nikolaos.”
She can feel the power radiating off him when she verbalizes her consent. It makes her skin tingle, and she can feel her newly acquired teeth growing and piercing her bottom lip as he pulls her onto his lap as if she weighs no more than a feather. When he drags his tongue over the mark on her neck, she shivers. He licks at it several times before he suddenly bites down, his teeth piercing her skin in a way that is so sensual she can’t fight the rush of the desire spreading over her. She feels him sucking on her neck, lapping at the blood spilling into his mouth, and she comes quite suddenly when he digs his fangs deeper.
He growls against her neck as she comes and pulls her closer, her leg pressing against the bulge in his trousers. Then his wrist is being offered to her, and she doesn’t have to be told what to do. She bites down hard, breaking the skin and sucking on the mark as he shares his blood with her. From the first splash of coppery liquid onto her tongue, she feels her hunger overtake her other senses. She drinks as she wiggles on his lap, rubbing against him and gripping the back of his head as she feeds for the first time.
When he pulls his wrist away, she whines. She feels better than she has since the incident, and there’s a raw power coursing through her veins that she finds exhilarating. Nikolaos stands up and carries her to the bedroom, falling onto the bed with her, and she finds a new outlet for the power as she rips his clothes off and kisses him. Some part of her knows that he’s letting her fighting him, that he could easily stop her with a simple motion, and it turns her on so much to know he’s even more powerful but letting her do this.
They don’t speak as he strips her clothes off, their gazes locked together in an intense way that makes her feel powerful yet ready to do anything he says. She crawls up his body, licking at the tip of his cock before she continues her crawl, straddling him and sinking down on his erection with a soft sigh of contentment. As she fucks him, she scratches his chest hard, licking up the blood as he thrusts up inside her. He’s murmuring words that she doesn’t understand, a mix of Latin and Italian that excites her even if she isn’t sure what they are. Hermione rides him hard, cupping her own breasts and pressing them against his mouth, whimpering when he sucks on her nipples and scrapes a fang across the sensitive buds.
Finally, he’s had enough, and he takes control back from her. He rolls her over and pounds into her hard enough to cause the headboard to hit the wall. She feels his mouth on her neck again, teeth sliding into the bite mark as easily as his cock slides into her cunt. None of the books could explain vampire anatomy to her, none were able to tell her how the biological functions work beyond the fact that she doesn’t require sleep or food anymore even if she can indulge in both. Her senses are more heightened as they fuck, she’s more aware of every touch and scent and flavor, and her body’s still reacting the way it usually does when aroused, but she’s not able to reflect on any of that when he’s sucking on her neck and fucking her with that hard thick cock.
She comes again hard as he feeds from her, not even needing stimulation to tighten around his cock and shudder as her orgasm hits her. When he presses her face against his neck, she bites down hard, feeling him stiffen before his hips stutter forwards and he spills inside her. She drinks from him as they continue fucking, and she feels a new awareness of him that she hasn’t felt before. He’s content, aroused, and satisfied, and she strokes his back as she licks at the mark she’s made.
When they pull apart, he looks down at her and smiles slightly. “The bond is complete, childe,” he murmurs, stroking her face with his fingers. She feels a calm settle through her, her magic finally tingling again. “We’ll start your lessons tomorrow.”
Hermione leans up to kiss him, gripping the back of his head as she continues rutting against him. She might not have been given a choice to become a vampire, but she has a feeling that Nikolaos is going to not only help her adjust but make the situation a lot more tolerable. As he caresses her body and licks her neck, she can’t help but remember his earlier comment about choosing to dance or hiding away from life. She’s glad that she’s chosen to dance.
End
Characters/Pairings: Hermione/Sanguini
Rating: Adult
Summary: Sanguini offers to help Hermione understand the changes she’s experiencing
Word Count: 3100
A/N: This involves a vampire and thus has reference to biting and minor bloodplay.
juju84’s prompt: Dance. Hope you enjoy this, hon!
It’s been nine days since everything changed. Only seven days for Hermione to hide herself away in her flat with the drapes drawn tight while she’s thought about everything in such excruciating detail that she’s surprised she still has her sanity. Though, honestly, there are times that she’s no longer sure of even that. It’s her own fault, too, which makes it far worse. There’s no one to really blame but herself, since she knew better. Trust her to survive a war and be so clever about so many things yet not heed the warnings that even the worst witches and wizards know.
There have been several days in the past nine that she’s been tempted to do something foolish and rash, to just end it all because she’s terrified of what she’s done, uncertain about everything, and her books aren’t providing her with any clues whatsoever. Normally, she can find solace in her books, but they are so vague or misinformed that they aren’t a help at all right now. Nothing is. It’s such a mess, and she isn’t sure where to even start to make it better or if it can actually get better at all.
Harry is so upset and worried that he keeps trying to see her and owling when she refuses to open the door, and Ron’s sent her howlers since she closed her Floo and warded the flat so that no one alive can get through them. They’ll blame her, she knows they will even if they won’t actually say it, and she’s not sure she can be around them without hurting them, and that’s the last thing she wants to do. When she woke at St. Mungos, when they brought her home, it hurt so very much trying to resist the natural urge she felt to attack them and make them hers. They’re her family, and her own complacency and utter disregard for her own safety has lost them for her.
The sharp knock on the door startles her. Hermione looks at it for a moment before she turns away, knowing that whoever is there will go away eventually. They always do, and she can no longer hear Harry or Ron trying to talk to her since she put up the silencing charms. It hurts her heart to listen to them, to know they don’t understand this any more than she does, to realize that everything’s different now and will never be normal again.
When the door suddenly swings open, she is too surprised to even reach for her wand. Instead, she has to fight the rush of primal energy coursing through her that’s telling her to protect herself and to attack. It gnaws at her, the power still not merging with her magic, and she feels as if she’s going to explode from the way it is constantly a fight for control. Her nails are digging into her palms, the scent of fresh blood reaching her nose, and she keeps resisting the new instincts that she doesn’t understand even after nine days.
“Fighting isn’t going to do you any good, beautiful. This is who you are now, and the faster you accept it, the easier it will be.”
At the slightly familiar voice, Hermione looks up. “What are you doing here?”
Sanguini smirks as he shuts the door behind him and approaches her. “Ginny Potter contacted me. Delightful girl, met her through dear old Horace. She told me about your situation, though I had obviously already heard about it. Whispers regarding the incident are all over the community. I assumed you were handling it since I’d not heard from you.”
Hermione watches him with narrowed eyes, but she doesn’t feel the same desire to attack that she’s felt around her friends. “I’m sure the news isn’t just in your community.”
“It’s being kept relatively quiet, actually.” He steps closer and sniffs the air. “You’re starving yourself. That surprises me, Hermione. I thought you were a fighter, not one to simply give up and waste away.”
“I’ve not given up,” she denies, cowering away from him as he gets near. She can sense a power in him now that she hasn’t before, and she knows he’s an elder that she must respect. “What is that?”
He arches a brow and studies her a moment. “I wish you had contacted me from the beginning. I could have assisted you through all of this.” He shakes his head. “After everything you’ve done for my kind, it’s the least I could do.”
“I didn’t think about it.” The admission is reluctant because Hermione hates having to confess that she’s been so desperate to figure this out on her own that she hadn’t considered contacting someone to help. She looks up at him and bites her lip. “Can you help me now, Sanguini?”
He steps forward and reaches down to stroke his cool fingertips across the column of her neck. “The creature that did this was not one of ours,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the mark that’s been there for nine days. “Your magic helps keeps your soul bound to you, but this was not a consensual gift given the way we practice. Tell me what happened.”
His touch is calming her, and she is fighting the urge to bare her neck and offer herself to him. Considering they had met dozens of times over the past five years since she started working on improved legislation for various magical creatures and she never once thought about him in a sexual way, she knows it has to be due to the change. Looking at his angular face and dark hair, she has to be honest with herself and acknowledge that perhaps the thought had entered her mind one or two times, because he is a handsome man, likely the reason he had been chosen to receive the bite many centuries ago by his sire, and he’s forever twenty-two, the age he’s told her he was when he turned.
“Poppet, you are going to make me uncomfortable with your staring,” he murmurs, continuing to stroke his thumb across her neck. The words are an echo of what she had told him during their first meeting all those years ago, and a ghost of a smile crosses her lips at the memory. He sits beside her, and she unconsciously adjusts her position so that she can continue to see him. “Ginny Potter told me only the barest of details, said it was your story to tell.”
“It’s my fault,” she whispers. “I heard two aurors discussing a rabid vampire, and I foolishly thought I could go and protect him because they intended to resolve the problem with whatever force was necessary. I didn’t realize he was different.”
“Yes, I read of the Muggle vampire who attacked a family in Dorset. They’re little more than animals obsessed with the blood lust.” Sanguini strokes his knuckles along the curve of her jaw. “You went off to save the creature then?”
Hermione nods. “I arrived before the aurors, and I tried to reason with him, but he was diseased. He attacked me so quickly that I couldn’t even use my wand. I fought him with my bare hands and…my teeth. Bit at him when he covered my mouth. The Healer thinks that’s what caused my infection,” she says. “I was unconscious when the aurors arrived, for all appearances dead, and he was gone because I managed to kill him somehow. He just evaporated into ash, is what the aurors suspect. It was over a day before I woke at St. Mungos with the diagnosis of vampire.”
“The aurors are likely correct. That breed turn to dust when they are slain,” Sanguini confirms. “This isn’t a disease, Hermione. You aren’t simply diagnosed, and there is no cure. You’ll live for an eternity, if you choose. Some cannot, they take their own lives because it is easier for them than continuing to survive when everything is constantly changing in the world around us. You are strong, though, even if your recent behavior seems to indicate otherwise.”
“I don’t want to be immortal,” she whispers. “My friends are going to grow old, and I’ll be like this forever. I’ll watch them die, and it hurts too much to think about.”
“It isn’t about want, unfortunately. You are, and you will either find the strength to learn and live or you will waste away.” Sanguini strokes the bite mark on her neck. “This wound hasn’t healed yet because you refuse to feed. If you continue to starve, you’ll become a monster like the man who bit you, so desperate for sustenance that you’ll attack anyone. Do you understand?”
“Is that why I can’t be around my friends without feeling the urge to attack?” Hermione licks her lips and thinks about what he’s said. “How can you stand watching everyone around you grow old and die?”
“In the centuries that I’ve been alive, I’ve realized that life is similar to a dance. Each mortal’s lifetime is a new dance, and you must choose whether you’re going to enjoy the dance regardless of the pain of loss at the end when they pass before a new dance begins or if you’re going to miss it all because of fear and simply hide away from life and love,” he tells her. “I was also fortunate enough to have a sire who gave me the choice from the start. I was orphaned, my wife had passed away during childbirth, my city was in turmoil due to invaders, and the Empire was not yet at any strength to make me feel as if I had a future ahead of me. It was a logical choice, and I have never regretted it. My sire eventually drifted out of my life when he created a new childe, and I was ready to sire my own.”
“I wasn’t given a choice,” she reminds him. While she doesn’t think magical creatures are any different from humans, it’s still not a choice she’d have made because she’s always envisioned getting married, having children, growing old, and dying. The typical life cycle is comfortable for her, and she has no sire to help her the way he speaks of his. “I have no one.”
“You have friends who are loyal to you regardless of the change you’re undergoing. There is support in my---in our---community already because of all you have done for us.” He leans in slightly, his fingers stroking the bite mark as he stares into her eyes. “I am also currently without a childe, and you’ve always fascinated me, so I’d like to offer to reclaim you as mine, if you wish. I can teach you and lead you through the changes this has caused. A choice, poppet. But you should be aware that I shall claim you both body and soul if you agree. We will dance together for many lifetimes, I think.”
“You could help me understand?” Hermione looks into his blue eyes and considers the offer. Having a choice settles something inside her, makes her feel more in control, and she knows he’s sincere in regards to teaching her what she needs to know to survive this way. Perhaps he can also teach her how to handle the blood lust so that she can be around those she loves without wanting to attack them. There’s also a part of her that welcomes the possibility of not being alone when everyone else grows old and dies.
“Of course.” He spares a glance at the books and parchment she has lying around. “You cannot always find the right answers in written text, poppet. I know the way you’ve changed, I understand what you need, and I can help you adjust. There will be things that that can’t be changed, though. Your rights are limited to the legislation that was recently passed. There will be those who believe you’re a monster or inferior simply because you’re now a vampire. There are those who hunt us for sport, in the Muggle world, but I can teach you how to make your new power and your magic cohesive and harmonious. It takes time and effort, but it’s achievable.”
“What’s your name?” she asks quietly. “I mean, your given name. I understand everyone calls you Sanguini, but I want to know your real name.”
He seems surprised at the question, and he studies her a moment before he nods once. “My given name is Nikolaos Silvanus. I acquired the moniker Sanguini over two centuries ago when I traveled to this country. At the time, I wanted a new start, so I left Nikolaos behind in my country and started over as Sanguini.”
Hermione is pleased that he told her. It makes her think he’s legitimate in his offer to teach her and help her adjust to being perpetually twenty-four while having to continuously resist the blood lust that gnaws at her. “I accept your offer, Nikolaos,” she murmurs, instinctively barring her neck to him when his eyes flash at her words.
“I accept you as my childe, Hermione.” He leans down and nuzzles at the bite mark on her neck. “We must consummate the bond for it to go into effect.”
Consummate. Hermione has a pretty good idea what that means, and her body is reacting to the feel of his lips pressing against her neck. The struggle she’s been feeling since waking at St. Mungos is quieter with him here, and she’s able to think clearer than she has in days. Reaching up, she moves her fingers into his long black hair. “Make me yours, Nikolaos.”
She can feel the power radiating off him when she verbalizes her consent. It makes her skin tingle, and she can feel her newly acquired teeth growing and piercing her bottom lip as he pulls her onto his lap as if she weighs no more than a feather. When he drags his tongue over the mark on her neck, she shivers. He licks at it several times before he suddenly bites down, his teeth piercing her skin in a way that is so sensual she can’t fight the rush of the desire spreading over her. She feels him sucking on her neck, lapping at the blood spilling into his mouth, and she comes quite suddenly when he digs his fangs deeper.
He growls against her neck as she comes and pulls her closer, her leg pressing against the bulge in his trousers. Then his wrist is being offered to her, and she doesn’t have to be told what to do. She bites down hard, breaking the skin and sucking on the mark as he shares his blood with her. From the first splash of coppery liquid onto her tongue, she feels her hunger overtake her other senses. She drinks as she wiggles on his lap, rubbing against him and gripping the back of his head as she feeds for the first time.
When he pulls his wrist away, she whines. She feels better than she has since the incident, and there’s a raw power coursing through her veins that she finds exhilarating. Nikolaos stands up and carries her to the bedroom, falling onto the bed with her, and she finds a new outlet for the power as she rips his clothes off and kisses him. Some part of her knows that he’s letting her fighting him, that he could easily stop her with a simple motion, and it turns her on so much to know he’s even more powerful but letting her do this.
They don’t speak as he strips her clothes off, their gazes locked together in an intense way that makes her feel powerful yet ready to do anything he says. She crawls up his body, licking at the tip of his cock before she continues her crawl, straddling him and sinking down on his erection with a soft sigh of contentment. As she fucks him, she scratches his chest hard, licking up the blood as he thrusts up inside her. He’s murmuring words that she doesn’t understand, a mix of Latin and Italian that excites her even if she isn’t sure what they are. Hermione rides him hard, cupping her own breasts and pressing them against his mouth, whimpering when he sucks on her nipples and scrapes a fang across the sensitive buds.
Finally, he’s had enough, and he takes control back from her. He rolls her over and pounds into her hard enough to cause the headboard to hit the wall. She feels his mouth on her neck again, teeth sliding into the bite mark as easily as his cock slides into her cunt. None of the books could explain vampire anatomy to her, none were able to tell her how the biological functions work beyond the fact that she doesn’t require sleep or food anymore even if she can indulge in both. Her senses are more heightened as they fuck, she’s more aware of every touch and scent and flavor, and her body’s still reacting the way it usually does when aroused, but she’s not able to reflect on any of that when he’s sucking on her neck and fucking her with that hard thick cock.
She comes again hard as he feeds from her, not even needing stimulation to tighten around his cock and shudder as her orgasm hits her. When he presses her face against his neck, she bites down hard, feeling him stiffen before his hips stutter forwards and he spills inside her. She drinks from him as they continue fucking, and she feels a new awareness of him that she hasn’t felt before. He’s content, aroused, and satisfied, and she strokes his back as she licks at the mark she’s made.
When they pull apart, he looks down at her and smiles slightly. “The bond is complete, childe,” he murmurs, stroking her face with his fingers. She feels a calm settle through her, her magic finally tingling again. “We’ll start your lessons tomorrow.”
Hermione leans up to kiss him, gripping the back of his head as she continues rutting against him. She might not have been given a choice to become a vampire, but she has a feeling that Nikolaos is going to not only help her adjust but make the situation a lot more tolerable. As he caresses her body and licks her neck, she can’t help but remember his earlier comment about choosing to dance or hiding away from life. She’s glad that she’s chosen to dance.
End