Fic: Vampire Love
Title: Vampire Love
Author: Cypher
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Main Character(s): McKay, Sheppard
Warnings: Slash, unbetaed, AU, vampires
Rating: Mature
Summary: "It might not be love, but John wouldn’t call it anything else."
Author's Notes: This was inspired by a mental comparison I made to the various vampire types I've seen displayed in the media. For those of you wondering, one type of vampire is inspired by those on Charmed; the other is from the BSSM manga (if you don't know it, you'll figure it out). It may be a little confusing, but I just posted it in the order it was written. Unbetaed, otherwise, enjoy!
Vampire Love
When Rodney stepped into his office, it wasn’t backlit by the opened shades and low fluorescent lighting as it normally was. Instead, all the shades were drawn and the lights were off. The only illumination came from the screensaver, a variation of greens as the vertical lines of alphanumeric symbols from the Matrix kept scrolling past. He’d hated that movie, but his nephew had gotten him the program and would be crushed if Rodney just threw it out.
Let it never be said he didn’t have a heart.
Setting his briefcase down, he didn’t even bother looking towards the darkest corner of the room. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“You sent back my flowers,” the voice had a soft, California-esque drawl, and Rodney could hear the pout.
“You sent me orange carnations.” Rodney woke up his computer and sat down, pulling out some folders from the case.
“You like carnations!”
“Not orange ones!” Rodney finally glared at the corner. “Oh don’t do that!” Now that he was looking, he could see the pout, the hazel eyes wide, the lower lip just on the edge of quivering. It was from holding back laughter, Rodney was sure. “You’ve known me for two years! I hate orange! And yellow!” He added the last as an afterthought, just in case.
The pout vanished, replaced by a small smirk as the man leaned back in the chair, legs spread wide in a tempting sprawl. “It’s not like they’ll kill you.”
“Yes, well, a lifetime or three avoiding the fruit tends to keep me away from anything that remotely looks like them.” Rodney slammed a sheaf of papers down--today’s research grant proposals--a little harder than necessary. “And you know very well that just because I don’t need to breathe, I’d rather not deal with my throat closing up, or the strain on my muscles, or the ache left from the chemical rush of epinephrine that I have to inject myself because I can’t even call for help and-” Rodney squinted in the darkness, and his voice darkened. “And I swear if you brought me a yellow rose I will throw you out the window.”
“Now, Rodney, would I do that?” The smirk was joined by a mischievous twinkle in the eye.
“Yes, yes you would. Now get the hell out of my office, John. I can do work in the dark but it makes management ask questions.”
John stood, tossing the lonely yellow rose into the cylindrical waste basket Rodney kept by the chair (for the weeping students and professors and really, they should know better than to approach Rodney McKay if they didn’t have solid emotional defenses) and stretched, exposing a tempting hairy inch of toned stomach that Rodney instinctively watched before the tight blue t-shirt lowered again. “You say the nicest things.” This time, John grinned, white fangs shining briefly in the dark.
“And you’re an abominable temptation. Get out before I nearly get fired…again!” Rodney waved his hand. “Go! Shoo! And try to find a decent job! My secretary thinks you’re my prostitute!”
John‘s look and tone were completely innocent. “Well, you do give me money-”
“OUT!”
Laughing, John grabbed the large hoodie from the back of the other chair and pulled it on, slipping the hood up and Top Gun shades on just before leaving the office. Rodney heard a high-pitched “Mr. Sheppard!” from Miss Brown and knew there’d be more gossip about him again. Sighing, Rodney moved across the room to shut the door and turn on the lights. John infuriated him more than anyone else in the world, and Rodney loved him for it.
Still, he thought as he opened the blinds to look over the university grounds, their differences did make things difficult. No wonder Countess Weir had scoffed at him mixing with another clan. But Rodney liked John, and he had more of a future with that man than with Sam Carter (who, yes, he had a crush on, but there was no spark age whatsoever, except out of hate).
Running his tongue over his own fangs, he let them recede before sitting down and turning his attention to the tasks of the day.
~*()*~
John eyed the stranger, keeping to the shadows of the nightclub’s cement walls. Athos was one of the hottest nightclubs in town, and while John was usually one of the many of his kin on the dance floor seeking new targets, he’d actually gotten to feast earlier with his queen, Teyla; who doubled as the owner of Athos club.
Teyla was present every night, making the rounds, ensuring her children were well, that no fights broke out, that no one invalidated the pact they’d made with the witches, so she often ate beforehand. John had just happened to be sleeping in the same cave with her--a rarity, but one she had enjoyed. She complained he didn’t come home often enough.
To John, home wasn’t a place. It was a concept his queen didn’t get, and he didn’t bother to explain.
But while the cave and Athos weren’t really home to him, his clan was. At least a quarter of the people dancing were fellow vampires, and every now and then a person would come in--a reporter, a demon expert, once a vampire hunter--to try and scope the place out, blow the lid off the secret. Teyla always made sure to nip the trouble in the bud, but tonight she hadn‘t.
Probably because he’s not her type, he thought. The man didn’t look like anyone’s type. He was bulky, but not overweight, meaty arms that looked more like mass than fat, a receding hairline, and sharp, bright blue eyes that took in the entire scene with a narrow hint of contempt. John had tried sensing his blood, to get his type, his energy…but all he got was confusion. He couldn’t focus on the man’s blood as he could other prey.
Which upped John’s caution as he approached the stranger. High-level demons could do that, but rarely associated with vampires. Some witches and warlocks could hide their blood energy, but if that was the case, it was a sloppy spell. Somehow, John didn’t think that was it, and the way the man kept looking about, spotting each and every one of his kin, it looked more like a vampire hunter or reporter searching for the truth than a magical enemy.
Fortunately, sex was a potent weapon for his clan. It was how Teyla had gotten him, and how John often got his meals. Rent boys were in high demand in the city.
Placing his hand on the back of the man’s neck, John leaned down and lowered his voice to a whisper, making sure his breath just tingled on the stranger’s ear. “Looking for someone?”
There was a hitched breath, and then that sharp gaze was turned on him. John leaned back, hooking one thumb in the belt loop of his jeans while his hand continued to hold the man’s neck, thumb stroking the skin softly. He could see the pupils begin to dilate, and while he couldn’t sense the blood energy, he could feel the heat that now ran through the man’s veins. “Maybe.” The stranger finally said.
“Oh?” John showed just a hint of teeth as he smiled, turning the charm up another notch. “Just maybe?”
The man licked his lips nervously, tongue flicking out in a way that had John’s own heart--unbeating as it was--trembling in excitement. Sex wasn’t required to get a meal, in fact, Teyla discouraged it because sometimes partners caused harm to her children. John liked the sex, though. It grounded him in a way nothing else did since becoming undead. “Definitely.” And then the stranger was standing, eyes only on John.
John grinned, and made a mental tally of another man bagged. It was an easy win. Not that the stranger was unattractive, but the guy wasn’t the normal type found at a nightclub, and certainly not the kind picked up. John was probably the best (and last, he mentally tagged on) offer he’d ever received.
Taking the man’s hand, he tugged him towards the stairway in the back corner that was guarded by the ever present (and tall) Ronon, a vampire as old (if not older) than Teyla herself. He kept others out of the rooms above where they tended to have sex and, more often than not, feed. The dreadlocked behemoth looked at John and grunted, but let them pass (and ignored the stranger’s gaped-mouth stare).
The night was still young, so few of the rooms were taken. John led his blue-eyed victim into the second room. It was a plain, rather dull place painted black with a queen bed, blood-red sheets, and a view into the alleyway a story down. There was also a small bedside table that contained lube, condoms, and a few other toys that came in handy before and after feeding. John had once toyed with the notion of asking for a mirrored ceiling, then realized he wouldn’t be able to see himself.
It was a room for sex, and the stranger turned his gaze from John for one minute to take it in before shutting the door with his foot, grabbing John’s head and kissing him within an inch of his undead life. John let his tongue spar with the man, and he struggled for dominance, alternately gripping the man’s biceps hard and relaxing while moaning. In the end, he managed to turn them around so that it was the stranger who fell back on the bed with John on top of him.
“Rodney,” the man gasped as John pressed his thigh against the bulge in the man’s jeans. “I-I’m Rodney.”
“John,” was all he said as he leaned down to lap and nuzzle at the neck. He wasn’t going to feed yet, John just found it was one of the more erotic areas on a body. Involuntarily, his fangs came out and he grazed the skin, ever so softly. What was a hickey before drinking? It was the perfect way to mark where he wanted to drain the man; to remember feeling that racing pulse.
Maybe, he whispered to himself, maybe just a taste…
Then there was a strangled noise, and Rodney’s hands grabbed his shoulders and shoved him up. “Oh my god! You’re trying to bite me!”
John smiled, oozing sensuality and ease even though he was internally preparing himself to kill Rodney if necessary. “You’ve got a problem with…biting?”
“When the biting is with fangs to drain my blood, yes!” The smile vanished from John’s face, and his muscles tensed. Rodney didn’t even pause. “I came up here for sex not to get my blood drained because I had enough of that from that witchdoctor, Beckett! And really, I feel totally vindicated for discovering that, yes, medicine IS voodoo!”
John sat back, still straddling Rodney. “Wait…Beckett?” Carson Beckett was a witchdoctor so famous everyone on the vampire circuit, no matter what clan, went to him. “You know Beckett?”
“Of course I do, you idiot!” And John almost jumped away as Rodney bared his teeth, which revealed four sharp, elongated fangs. “I’m one of you!”
~*()*~
“It will not work. No, I don’t think it’ll work. You should forget him and focus on others. Yes, nice supple college girls. Is why you work there, no?”
Rodney glared at the Czech. “Nice supple college girls? What the hell have you been watching?”
“ESPN. We just got cable.” Rodney turned in his seat, ignoring Radek Zelenka’s blush in favor of raising an eyebrow at Countess Elizabeth Weir. “Yes, I know, but apparently college volleyball has stolen his affections from me.” She came over to the table and set the bowl of floating lilies in the center. “Are you sure I can’t get you some Double Delights?”
“You know how I am.” Rodney picked up one of the flowers, twirled it slowly between his fingers, before taking an almost dainty nibble from one of its petals. Normally, he’d devour the bowl, but he was with the Countess. “The best fragrances may appeal to the rest of our kind, but they just make me sneeze.”
“Yes. Only vampire to have allergies beyond life. Very tragic.”
Rodney shot Zelenka another glare before taking a big bite out of his flower, getting some stamen stuck in his teeth. “If you both invited me to dissuade me from seeing John, forget it.”
Elizabeth sighed, pulling a petal off and sniffing it before popping it in her mouth. “I chose a very nice bride for you. It fit all of your qualifications: blond, smart, leggy. It took me almost fifty years to find someone you considered perfect.”
“Was too perfect. Blew his theories out of the water.”
This time, Rodney kicked Zelenka in the shin. Hard. “I tried, but I just couldn’t. Sam was…a dream, or an ideal. But that was when I was alive and had to reproduce and give my genes to the next generation.” He shrugged and finished off the rest of his lily, leaving the stem on the plate before him. “And you know how that is. You live a hundred years and what you think you find appealing isn’t even what you want anymore.”
Elizabeth nodded in understanding, but Rodney knew that alive, she’d been not just a Countess, but a diplomat; and had played both roles a number of times over the centuries. More than likely, she was just humoring him. “Still, he is a different clan, a more removed clan, a-”
“Please. He’s from the States, I’m from Canada.” Of course, Rodney knew there were some unspoken rules. The clans (or, as Rodney referred to them, gangs) in the East stuck together; the European, Russian, and Canadian clans were united under an oligarchy; and neither of the two groups had anything to do with the wilder, newer American clans (North and South).
Not that there was anything overtly wrong, but the American clans, while descended from the same stock as the rest of the clans, were more akin to the demonic Wraiths that had spawned them. They couldn’t survive in the sun, they couldn’t pass as human as well as other vampires, only one set of fangs instead of two, they could eat real food instead of flowers.
Evolutionarily, Rodney always thought it was rather backwards, but then, the Wraith had wanted to blend in with humans, not stand out--and like all things American, the American vampires stood out like a sore thumb among the other vampire societies.
“I just don’t want you getting hurt, Rodney.” Elizabeth reached over and held his hand briefly. “You don’t know John’s intentions.”
Rodney snorted. “He intends to fuc-”
Zelenka cleared his throat. “The Countess is a lady, yes? Perhaps you best not finish that sentence.”
Even Rodney knew when the Czech bastard was giving him sound advice, so he shut up. For all of five seconds. “I can protect myself. Hell, holy water and crosses scare him. I could stand in the sun and be safe.”
“And he could put a stake through your heart tomorrow,” Elizabeth said, her soft voice unusually hard. “Remember, they’re our race, but they’re not a part of us.”
Which was funny, because that’s how everyone had always described Rodney when he was alive.
~*()*~
It started out with him in control, that’s what had puzzled John. He had brought Rodney back to Athos, to meet the family, so to speak. The others in his clan gave him odd looks, but nothing too overt. Ronon had grunted (but then, John had never really heard the man speak, so who knew what he ever really meant anyways) and they had gone upstairs again to that same bedroom for their six month anniversary.
(“Anniversary of what? Yes, we have lots and lots of sex, but I wouldn’t say we’re dating.”
“I brought you flowers. And those two liters of blood.”
“Yes, how thoughtful of you to knock over a blood bank. Are you insane?!”
“But Rodney…”
“Oh, no. Not the pout. Don’t you dare give me the--fine, fine! Whatever! I was sick of marking up undergrad papers anyways! Just…pick a place and we’ll go!”
“You’re such a romantic.”)
And he’d pinned Rodney to the bed, held his wrists to either side of his head and kept him in a long lip-lock while grinding against him. Of course, John was teasing, but he should’ve known Rodney wouldn’t take it lying down (well, maybe he would literally, but not figuratively). Even though he was using most of his strength (Rodney was a big guy), he suddenly found himself held at a disadvantage as Rodney reversed their positions and held him down.
Rodney was even clever enough to force his arms above his head and hold his wrists with one hand while the other teased his nipples. He was groaning and Rodney was mouthing his neck and he was getting oh so hard and he was about to beg Rodney to touch him, suck him, do anything just get him off!
Then there was nothing, a thud, and Teyla’s face above his.
“Talk about your mood killers,” he heard himself say before he could help it.
“What’s the big idea?!” And there was Rodney, on his feet, skin flushed, erection painfully obvious, and completely unaware that the woman before him was not only a queen, but someone who could kick his ass before getting anywhere near John (although after feeling Rodney‘s strength first-hand, he‘d bet Teyla would get a bruise or two in the process).
“Ronon told me John went up with another vampire.” She shot Rodney a disapproving look, before giving the same one to John. “One of the elder clan.”
“Elder?! I’ll have you know I’m only three-hundred and sixty years old!”
Which beat John by almost two-hundred years, but instead of flinching, he let out a quick laugh. At Rodney’s confused glance, he said, “Circle.”
Then Rodney’s face bunched up for a moment. “Yes, I know, perfect degrees. It gets ruined in a month.” And John made a mental note to find out when the birthday was exactly. “What matters is that we were having a very good time and this,” he waved violently at Teyla, “interrupted us!”
John did wince. Teyla looked very displeased. When that happened, people--vampires and mortals--got hurt. “Rodney, this is Queen Teyla. She, uh, bit me. Teyla, this is Doctor Rodney McKay.”
Rodney stared at John, then turned his attention to Teyla, giving her a once over. “Well, I guess with those breasts, I can understand. Thank god you went gay, though.”
John closed his eyes at the slaughter he knew was about to commence. Why couldn’t he just have nice six-month anniversary sex with his boyfriend?
~*()*~
“You don’t mind if he watches, right?”
Rodney threw John the hate-filled glare that meant ‘I can and will kill you with my brain!’ along with ‘my god! How are you so utterly stupid?!’ “Yes I mind if he watches!”
He was Lorne, a new convert in John’s clan. He looked dazed and rumpled and confused, but he was smiling the dopey smile Rodney often thought he himself had after sleeping with John. John wasn’t much better, eyes glazed and mouth slightly parted, radiating raw sexual energy as he lay in the bed. His shirt was off and the button of his jeans were undone, and Rodney could see the erection press against the confining fabric.
“Come on, Rodney. It’ll be fun.” John was attempting to give him a ‘come hither’ look, but to Rodney it looked more like a drunk trying to appeal to an uninterested hooker--which, really, wasn’t far from the truth.
“Okay, yes, I know I agreed to let you do your thing, but this is my bedroom in my apartment and--what are you doing?!”
Lorne blinked hazily from where he was seated in Rodney’s desk chair, shirt now half-off. “I thought I’d keep Shep company.”
Rodney felt his face heat up in a way it hadn’t in decades, before he grabbed Lorne by the waist of his pants (getting an indignant “hey!” from John and a yelp from Lorne) and dragging him to the door, down the hall, and into Apartment 5E where Parrish, one of Rodney’s primary flower suppliers (a mortal, but he knew the truth; Rodney suspected he remained high to escape it) was reading over some gardening magazine on the couch.
“Here!” Rodney literally lifted Lorne over the couch and dropped him on it, his head landing right in Parrish’s lap. “Just take care of this and don’t let him in the sun!”
Parrish looked vaguely uncomfortable, until Lorne started licking the inside of his wrist, when he shuddered and nodded. “Yes, Mr. McKay.”
“Doctor!” Rodney yelled at him before slamming the door as he left and stomped back to his own place. He slammed his own door, only to be pinned to it by John the instant it was shut. “And you-” He was cut off as John kissed him, leaning his whole body against Rodney to keep him in place. “Don’t think-” He started when John pulled back, only to be shut up again as John attacked his mouth more insistently, tongue domineering his and fangs lightly cutting his lips.
After a few minutes, Rodney sighed and relaxed. This time, when John pulled back, he merely reached up and tugged John’s hair back. “Ow…”
“Shut up.” Rodney initiated the kiss this time, guiding John to the bedroom and finally laying him out on the mattress. Rodney leaned down to nip at John’s neck. No feeding, just a set of possessive bite marks. From the moans and gasps coming above him, he didn’t think John would protest. “I hate you, you know that?”
John was barely audible. “Love…love making you jealous.”
Rodney moved, licking and nipping a trail down John’s chest and stomach, lowering the zipper on the jeans with a single finger. “And don’t think I won’t make you explain things to Parrish in the morning for it.”
~*()*~
John let his head be pillowed by Rodney’s shoulder as the man slept. Most of the vampires from other clans liked to use coffins, but apparently Rodney’s clans used beds--which made sense, since the sun didn’t actually burn them to death (though it did tire them out). John felt uncomfortable having to trust only the blankets and blinds to keep the light out, but he did feel safe with Rodney.
He still went back to Teyla, still hung out at Athos, but he’d sold his apartment and he’d stopped being a rent boy (except for Rodney’s secretary because Rodney was so cute hopping mad) and explained he wouldn’t be initiating any new members for a while. It wasn’t because he didn’t like the clan, he would always be a part of it, and them a part of him. But the clan wasn’t his life--well, unlife now.
It was Rodney.
He’d heard the talk, from witches and warlocks, over how demons couldn’t love, even one another. John wasn’t sure what love was. He hadn’t really had it growing up, and his life had been short before he’d been bitten. But he imagined it felt a lot like this. With the trust that Rodney wouldn’t expose him to anything harmful; that coming home and seeing Rodney, even on a bad day, made it all worthwhile; that even undead he had someone he was willing to fight for, die for, do the most embarrassing things for.
Rodney was his home now. It might not be love, but it was definitely a connection so deep that it went beyond anything the clan or Queen Teyla or even anyone in his life had made him feel. And because of that he found himself smiling, really smiling, not the way Teyla or life had taught him to. This was out of genuine happiness, and he wanted to give something to Rodney, something eternal, for giving him this feeling. Even if they didn’t last, he wanted to offer something that would represent this, would be with them forever.
“You’re thinking loudly,” Rodney’s voice was cranky, tired, but John could hear the affection, the worry beneath the harsh tone.
“I was just thinking it’s been a while since you fed.”
Rodney yawned, and eyed him through sleep-addled eyes. “A couple days. I don’t need to eat as often as you.”
“I was thinking,” and John ducked his eyes a moment, before tilting his head to the side. “I…want you. To have some.”
There was a sharp intake of breath, and then Rodney’s shaking hand touched his cheek. This was taboo. Necking was okay, but vampires within the same clan weren’t supposed to feed on each other; much less with vampires of other clans. It was reminiscent of the Wraith, but it was also because the blood they kept inside was precious, life-giving. To share it was the considered the ultimate sacrifice, an offer to be made only to a queen and no one else.
The offering John was making would be with Rodney forever; vampire blood was a unique blend to each individual, and couldn’t be broken down except by a queen. Rodney’s body would never be able to break down or be rid of John’s blood; it would be a part of him.
It was the perfect gift.
Tenderly, almost as John were the most delicate china in the world, Rodney pressed his body against John. Their legs tangled, and Rodney’s arms drew John’s chest so close he could feel the false heartbeat Rodney gave. There was a gentle kiss on his neck, followed by a sharp, brief piercing, and John closed his eyes, shivering as Rodney fed. Only for a minute, then Rodney pulled back, but the connection had been made, the offering received. John opened his eyes to see Rodney looking…shy for the first time, before tenderly kissing him, fangs and all.
It might not be love, but John wouldn’t call it anything else.
Author: Cypher
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Main Character(s): McKay, Sheppard
Warnings: Slash, unbetaed, AU, vampires
Rating: Mature
Summary: "It might not be love, but John wouldn’t call it anything else."
Author's Notes: This was inspired by a mental comparison I made to the various vampire types I've seen displayed in the media. For those of you wondering, one type of vampire is inspired by those on Charmed; the other is from the BSSM manga (if you don't know it, you'll figure it out). It may be a little confusing, but I just posted it in the order it was written. Unbetaed, otherwise, enjoy!
Vampire Love
When Rodney stepped into his office, it wasn’t backlit by the opened shades and low fluorescent lighting as it normally was. Instead, all the shades were drawn and the lights were off. The only illumination came from the screensaver, a variation of greens as the vertical lines of alphanumeric symbols from the Matrix kept scrolling past. He’d hated that movie, but his nephew had gotten him the program and would be crushed if Rodney just threw it out.
Let it never be said he didn’t have a heart.
Setting his briefcase down, he didn’t even bother looking towards the darkest corner of the room. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“You sent back my flowers,” the voice had a soft, California-esque drawl, and Rodney could hear the pout.
“You sent me orange carnations.” Rodney woke up his computer and sat down, pulling out some folders from the case.
“You like carnations!”
“Not orange ones!” Rodney finally glared at the corner. “Oh don’t do that!” Now that he was looking, he could see the pout, the hazel eyes wide, the lower lip just on the edge of quivering. It was from holding back laughter, Rodney was sure. “You’ve known me for two years! I hate orange! And yellow!” He added the last as an afterthought, just in case.
The pout vanished, replaced by a small smirk as the man leaned back in the chair, legs spread wide in a tempting sprawl. “It’s not like they’ll kill you.”
“Yes, well, a lifetime or three avoiding the fruit tends to keep me away from anything that remotely looks like them.” Rodney slammed a sheaf of papers down--today’s research grant proposals--a little harder than necessary. “And you know very well that just because I don’t need to breathe, I’d rather not deal with my throat closing up, or the strain on my muscles, or the ache left from the chemical rush of epinephrine that I have to inject myself because I can’t even call for help and-” Rodney squinted in the darkness, and his voice darkened. “And I swear if you brought me a yellow rose I will throw you out the window.”
“Now, Rodney, would I do that?” The smirk was joined by a mischievous twinkle in the eye.
“Yes, yes you would. Now get the hell out of my office, John. I can do work in the dark but it makes management ask questions.”
John stood, tossing the lonely yellow rose into the cylindrical waste basket Rodney kept by the chair (for the weeping students and professors and really, they should know better than to approach Rodney McKay if they didn’t have solid emotional defenses) and stretched, exposing a tempting hairy inch of toned stomach that Rodney instinctively watched before the tight blue t-shirt lowered again. “You say the nicest things.” This time, John grinned, white fangs shining briefly in the dark.
“And you’re an abominable temptation. Get out before I nearly get fired…again!” Rodney waved his hand. “Go! Shoo! And try to find a decent job! My secretary thinks you’re my prostitute!”
John‘s look and tone were completely innocent. “Well, you do give me money-”
“OUT!”
Laughing, John grabbed the large hoodie from the back of the other chair and pulled it on, slipping the hood up and Top Gun shades on just before leaving the office. Rodney heard a high-pitched “Mr. Sheppard!” from Miss Brown and knew there’d be more gossip about him again. Sighing, Rodney moved across the room to shut the door and turn on the lights. John infuriated him more than anyone else in the world, and Rodney loved him for it.
Still, he thought as he opened the blinds to look over the university grounds, their differences did make things difficult. No wonder Countess Weir had scoffed at him mixing with another clan. But Rodney liked John, and he had more of a future with that man than with Sam Carter (who, yes, he had a crush on, but there was no spark age whatsoever, except out of hate).
Running his tongue over his own fangs, he let them recede before sitting down and turning his attention to the tasks of the day.
~*()*~
John eyed the stranger, keeping to the shadows of the nightclub’s cement walls. Athos was one of the hottest nightclubs in town, and while John was usually one of the many of his kin on the dance floor seeking new targets, he’d actually gotten to feast earlier with his queen, Teyla; who doubled as the owner of Athos club.
Teyla was present every night, making the rounds, ensuring her children were well, that no fights broke out, that no one invalidated the pact they’d made with the witches, so she often ate beforehand. John had just happened to be sleeping in the same cave with her--a rarity, but one she had enjoyed. She complained he didn’t come home often enough.
To John, home wasn’t a place. It was a concept his queen didn’t get, and he didn’t bother to explain.
But while the cave and Athos weren’t really home to him, his clan was. At least a quarter of the people dancing were fellow vampires, and every now and then a person would come in--a reporter, a demon expert, once a vampire hunter--to try and scope the place out, blow the lid off the secret. Teyla always made sure to nip the trouble in the bud, but tonight she hadn‘t.
Probably because he’s not her type, he thought. The man didn’t look like anyone’s type. He was bulky, but not overweight, meaty arms that looked more like mass than fat, a receding hairline, and sharp, bright blue eyes that took in the entire scene with a narrow hint of contempt. John had tried sensing his blood, to get his type, his energy…but all he got was confusion. He couldn’t focus on the man’s blood as he could other prey.
Which upped John’s caution as he approached the stranger. High-level demons could do that, but rarely associated with vampires. Some witches and warlocks could hide their blood energy, but if that was the case, it was a sloppy spell. Somehow, John didn’t think that was it, and the way the man kept looking about, spotting each and every one of his kin, it looked more like a vampire hunter or reporter searching for the truth than a magical enemy.
Fortunately, sex was a potent weapon for his clan. It was how Teyla had gotten him, and how John often got his meals. Rent boys were in high demand in the city.
Placing his hand on the back of the man’s neck, John leaned down and lowered his voice to a whisper, making sure his breath just tingled on the stranger’s ear. “Looking for someone?”
There was a hitched breath, and then that sharp gaze was turned on him. John leaned back, hooking one thumb in the belt loop of his jeans while his hand continued to hold the man’s neck, thumb stroking the skin softly. He could see the pupils begin to dilate, and while he couldn’t sense the blood energy, he could feel the heat that now ran through the man’s veins. “Maybe.” The stranger finally said.
“Oh?” John showed just a hint of teeth as he smiled, turning the charm up another notch. “Just maybe?”
The man licked his lips nervously, tongue flicking out in a way that had John’s own heart--unbeating as it was--trembling in excitement. Sex wasn’t required to get a meal, in fact, Teyla discouraged it because sometimes partners caused harm to her children. John liked the sex, though. It grounded him in a way nothing else did since becoming undead. “Definitely.” And then the stranger was standing, eyes only on John.
John grinned, and made a mental tally of another man bagged. It was an easy win. Not that the stranger was unattractive, but the guy wasn’t the normal type found at a nightclub, and certainly not the kind picked up. John was probably the best (and last, he mentally tagged on) offer he’d ever received.
Taking the man’s hand, he tugged him towards the stairway in the back corner that was guarded by the ever present (and tall) Ronon, a vampire as old (if not older) than Teyla herself. He kept others out of the rooms above where they tended to have sex and, more often than not, feed. The dreadlocked behemoth looked at John and grunted, but let them pass (and ignored the stranger’s gaped-mouth stare).
The night was still young, so few of the rooms were taken. John led his blue-eyed victim into the second room. It was a plain, rather dull place painted black with a queen bed, blood-red sheets, and a view into the alleyway a story down. There was also a small bedside table that contained lube, condoms, and a few other toys that came in handy before and after feeding. John had once toyed with the notion of asking for a mirrored ceiling, then realized he wouldn’t be able to see himself.
It was a room for sex, and the stranger turned his gaze from John for one minute to take it in before shutting the door with his foot, grabbing John’s head and kissing him within an inch of his undead life. John let his tongue spar with the man, and he struggled for dominance, alternately gripping the man’s biceps hard and relaxing while moaning. In the end, he managed to turn them around so that it was the stranger who fell back on the bed with John on top of him.
“Rodney,” the man gasped as John pressed his thigh against the bulge in the man’s jeans. “I-I’m Rodney.”
“John,” was all he said as he leaned down to lap and nuzzle at the neck. He wasn’t going to feed yet, John just found it was one of the more erotic areas on a body. Involuntarily, his fangs came out and he grazed the skin, ever so softly. What was a hickey before drinking? It was the perfect way to mark where he wanted to drain the man; to remember feeling that racing pulse.
Maybe, he whispered to himself, maybe just a taste…
Then there was a strangled noise, and Rodney’s hands grabbed his shoulders and shoved him up. “Oh my god! You’re trying to bite me!”
John smiled, oozing sensuality and ease even though he was internally preparing himself to kill Rodney if necessary. “You’ve got a problem with…biting?”
“When the biting is with fangs to drain my blood, yes!” The smile vanished from John’s face, and his muscles tensed. Rodney didn’t even pause. “I came up here for sex not to get my blood drained because I had enough of that from that witchdoctor, Beckett! And really, I feel totally vindicated for discovering that, yes, medicine IS voodoo!”
John sat back, still straddling Rodney. “Wait…Beckett?” Carson Beckett was a witchdoctor so famous everyone on the vampire circuit, no matter what clan, went to him. “You know Beckett?”
“Of course I do, you idiot!” And John almost jumped away as Rodney bared his teeth, which revealed four sharp, elongated fangs. “I’m one of you!”
~*()*~
“It will not work. No, I don’t think it’ll work. You should forget him and focus on others. Yes, nice supple college girls. Is why you work there, no?”
Rodney glared at the Czech. “Nice supple college girls? What the hell have you been watching?”
“ESPN. We just got cable.” Rodney turned in his seat, ignoring Radek Zelenka’s blush in favor of raising an eyebrow at Countess Elizabeth Weir. “Yes, I know, but apparently college volleyball has stolen his affections from me.” She came over to the table and set the bowl of floating lilies in the center. “Are you sure I can’t get you some Double Delights?”
“You know how I am.” Rodney picked up one of the flowers, twirled it slowly between his fingers, before taking an almost dainty nibble from one of its petals. Normally, he’d devour the bowl, but he was with the Countess. “The best fragrances may appeal to the rest of our kind, but they just make me sneeze.”
“Yes. Only vampire to have allergies beyond life. Very tragic.”
Rodney shot Zelenka another glare before taking a big bite out of his flower, getting some stamen stuck in his teeth. “If you both invited me to dissuade me from seeing John, forget it.”
Elizabeth sighed, pulling a petal off and sniffing it before popping it in her mouth. “I chose a very nice bride for you. It fit all of your qualifications: blond, smart, leggy. It took me almost fifty years to find someone you considered perfect.”
“Was too perfect. Blew his theories out of the water.”
This time, Rodney kicked Zelenka in the shin. Hard. “I tried, but I just couldn’t. Sam was…a dream, or an ideal. But that was when I was alive and had to reproduce and give my genes to the next generation.” He shrugged and finished off the rest of his lily, leaving the stem on the plate before him. “And you know how that is. You live a hundred years and what you think you find appealing isn’t even what you want anymore.”
Elizabeth nodded in understanding, but Rodney knew that alive, she’d been not just a Countess, but a diplomat; and had played both roles a number of times over the centuries. More than likely, she was just humoring him. “Still, he is a different clan, a more removed clan, a-”
“Please. He’s from the States, I’m from Canada.” Of course, Rodney knew there were some unspoken rules. The clans (or, as Rodney referred to them, gangs) in the East stuck together; the European, Russian, and Canadian clans were united under an oligarchy; and neither of the two groups had anything to do with the wilder, newer American clans (North and South).
Not that there was anything overtly wrong, but the American clans, while descended from the same stock as the rest of the clans, were more akin to the demonic Wraiths that had spawned them. They couldn’t survive in the sun, they couldn’t pass as human as well as other vampires, only one set of fangs instead of two, they could eat real food instead of flowers.
Evolutionarily, Rodney always thought it was rather backwards, but then, the Wraith had wanted to blend in with humans, not stand out--and like all things American, the American vampires stood out like a sore thumb among the other vampire societies.
“I just don’t want you getting hurt, Rodney.” Elizabeth reached over and held his hand briefly. “You don’t know John’s intentions.”
Rodney snorted. “He intends to fuc-”
Zelenka cleared his throat. “The Countess is a lady, yes? Perhaps you best not finish that sentence.”
Even Rodney knew when the Czech bastard was giving him sound advice, so he shut up. For all of five seconds. “I can protect myself. Hell, holy water and crosses scare him. I could stand in the sun and be safe.”
“And he could put a stake through your heart tomorrow,” Elizabeth said, her soft voice unusually hard. “Remember, they’re our race, but they’re not a part of us.”
Which was funny, because that’s how everyone had always described Rodney when he was alive.
~*()*~
It started out with him in control, that’s what had puzzled John. He had brought Rodney back to Athos, to meet the family, so to speak. The others in his clan gave him odd looks, but nothing too overt. Ronon had grunted (but then, John had never really heard the man speak, so who knew what he ever really meant anyways) and they had gone upstairs again to that same bedroom for their six month anniversary.
(“Anniversary of what? Yes, we have lots and lots of sex, but I wouldn’t say we’re dating.”
“I brought you flowers. And those two liters of blood.”
“Yes, how thoughtful of you to knock over a blood bank. Are you insane?!”
“But Rodney…”
“Oh, no. Not the pout. Don’t you dare give me the--fine, fine! Whatever! I was sick of marking up undergrad papers anyways! Just…pick a place and we’ll go!”
“You’re such a romantic.”)
And he’d pinned Rodney to the bed, held his wrists to either side of his head and kept him in a long lip-lock while grinding against him. Of course, John was teasing, but he should’ve known Rodney wouldn’t take it lying down (well, maybe he would literally, but not figuratively). Even though he was using most of his strength (Rodney was a big guy), he suddenly found himself held at a disadvantage as Rodney reversed their positions and held him down.
Rodney was even clever enough to force his arms above his head and hold his wrists with one hand while the other teased his nipples. He was groaning and Rodney was mouthing his neck and he was getting oh so hard and he was about to beg Rodney to touch him, suck him, do anything just get him off!
Then there was nothing, a thud, and Teyla’s face above his.
“Talk about your mood killers,” he heard himself say before he could help it.
“What’s the big idea?!” And there was Rodney, on his feet, skin flushed, erection painfully obvious, and completely unaware that the woman before him was not only a queen, but someone who could kick his ass before getting anywhere near John (although after feeling Rodney‘s strength first-hand, he‘d bet Teyla would get a bruise or two in the process).
“Ronon told me John went up with another vampire.” She shot Rodney a disapproving look, before giving the same one to John. “One of the elder clan.”
“Elder?! I’ll have you know I’m only three-hundred and sixty years old!”
Which beat John by almost two-hundred years, but instead of flinching, he let out a quick laugh. At Rodney’s confused glance, he said, “Circle.”
Then Rodney’s face bunched up for a moment. “Yes, I know, perfect degrees. It gets ruined in a month.” And John made a mental note to find out when the birthday was exactly. “What matters is that we were having a very good time and this,” he waved violently at Teyla, “interrupted us!”
John did wince. Teyla looked very displeased. When that happened, people--vampires and mortals--got hurt. “Rodney, this is Queen Teyla. She, uh, bit me. Teyla, this is Doctor Rodney McKay.”
Rodney stared at John, then turned his attention to Teyla, giving her a once over. “Well, I guess with those breasts, I can understand. Thank god you went gay, though.”
John closed his eyes at the slaughter he knew was about to commence. Why couldn’t he just have nice six-month anniversary sex with his boyfriend?
~*()*~
“You don’t mind if he watches, right?”
Rodney threw John the hate-filled glare that meant ‘I can and will kill you with my brain!’ along with ‘my god! How are you so utterly stupid?!’ “Yes I mind if he watches!”
He was Lorne, a new convert in John’s clan. He looked dazed and rumpled and confused, but he was smiling the dopey smile Rodney often thought he himself had after sleeping with John. John wasn’t much better, eyes glazed and mouth slightly parted, radiating raw sexual energy as he lay in the bed. His shirt was off and the button of his jeans were undone, and Rodney could see the erection press against the confining fabric.
“Come on, Rodney. It’ll be fun.” John was attempting to give him a ‘come hither’ look, but to Rodney it looked more like a drunk trying to appeal to an uninterested hooker--which, really, wasn’t far from the truth.
“Okay, yes, I know I agreed to let you do your thing, but this is my bedroom in my apartment and--what are you doing?!”
Lorne blinked hazily from where he was seated in Rodney’s desk chair, shirt now half-off. “I thought I’d keep Shep company.”
Rodney felt his face heat up in a way it hadn’t in decades, before he grabbed Lorne by the waist of his pants (getting an indignant “hey!” from John and a yelp from Lorne) and dragging him to the door, down the hall, and into Apartment 5E where Parrish, one of Rodney’s primary flower suppliers (a mortal, but he knew the truth; Rodney suspected he remained high to escape it) was reading over some gardening magazine on the couch.
“Here!” Rodney literally lifted Lorne over the couch and dropped him on it, his head landing right in Parrish’s lap. “Just take care of this and don’t let him in the sun!”
Parrish looked vaguely uncomfortable, until Lorne started licking the inside of his wrist, when he shuddered and nodded. “Yes, Mr. McKay.”
“Doctor!” Rodney yelled at him before slamming the door as he left and stomped back to his own place. He slammed his own door, only to be pinned to it by John the instant it was shut. “And you-” He was cut off as John kissed him, leaning his whole body against Rodney to keep him in place. “Don’t think-” He started when John pulled back, only to be shut up again as John attacked his mouth more insistently, tongue domineering his and fangs lightly cutting his lips.
After a few minutes, Rodney sighed and relaxed. This time, when John pulled back, he merely reached up and tugged John’s hair back. “Ow…”
“Shut up.” Rodney initiated the kiss this time, guiding John to the bedroom and finally laying him out on the mattress. Rodney leaned down to nip at John’s neck. No feeding, just a set of possessive bite marks. From the moans and gasps coming above him, he didn’t think John would protest. “I hate you, you know that?”
John was barely audible. “Love…love making you jealous.”
Rodney moved, licking and nipping a trail down John’s chest and stomach, lowering the zipper on the jeans with a single finger. “And don’t think I won’t make you explain things to Parrish in the morning for it.”
~*()*~
John let his head be pillowed by Rodney’s shoulder as the man slept. Most of the vampires from other clans liked to use coffins, but apparently Rodney’s clans used beds--which made sense, since the sun didn’t actually burn them to death (though it did tire them out). John felt uncomfortable having to trust only the blankets and blinds to keep the light out, but he did feel safe with Rodney.
He still went back to Teyla, still hung out at Athos, but he’d sold his apartment and he’d stopped being a rent boy (except for Rodney’s secretary because Rodney was so cute hopping mad) and explained he wouldn’t be initiating any new members for a while. It wasn’t because he didn’t like the clan, he would always be a part of it, and them a part of him. But the clan wasn’t his life--well, unlife now.
It was Rodney.
He’d heard the talk, from witches and warlocks, over how demons couldn’t love, even one another. John wasn’t sure what love was. He hadn’t really had it growing up, and his life had been short before he’d been bitten. But he imagined it felt a lot like this. With the trust that Rodney wouldn’t expose him to anything harmful; that coming home and seeing Rodney, even on a bad day, made it all worthwhile; that even undead he had someone he was willing to fight for, die for, do the most embarrassing things for.
Rodney was his home now. It might not be love, but it was definitely a connection so deep that it went beyond anything the clan or Queen Teyla or even anyone in his life had made him feel. And because of that he found himself smiling, really smiling, not the way Teyla or life had taught him to. This was out of genuine happiness, and he wanted to give something to Rodney, something eternal, for giving him this feeling. Even if they didn’t last, he wanted to offer something that would represent this, would be with them forever.
“You’re thinking loudly,” Rodney’s voice was cranky, tired, but John could hear the affection, the worry beneath the harsh tone.
“I was just thinking it’s been a while since you fed.”
Rodney yawned, and eyed him through sleep-addled eyes. “A couple days. I don’t need to eat as often as you.”
“I was thinking,” and John ducked his eyes a moment, before tilting his head to the side. “I…want you. To have some.”
There was a sharp intake of breath, and then Rodney’s shaking hand touched his cheek. This was taboo. Necking was okay, but vampires within the same clan weren’t supposed to feed on each other; much less with vampires of other clans. It was reminiscent of the Wraith, but it was also because the blood they kept inside was precious, life-giving. To share it was the considered the ultimate sacrifice, an offer to be made only to a queen and no one else.
The offering John was making would be with Rodney forever; vampire blood was a unique blend to each individual, and couldn’t be broken down except by a queen. Rodney’s body would never be able to break down or be rid of John’s blood; it would be a part of him.
It was the perfect gift.
Tenderly, almost as John were the most delicate china in the world, Rodney pressed his body against John. Their legs tangled, and Rodney’s arms drew John’s chest so close he could feel the false heartbeat Rodney gave. There was a gentle kiss on his neck, followed by a sharp, brief piercing, and John closed his eyes, shivering as Rodney fed. Only for a minute, then Rodney pulled back, but the connection had been made, the offering received. John opened his eyes to see Rodney looking…shy for the first time, before tenderly kissing him, fangs and all.
It might not be love, but John wouldn’t call it anything else.