Bite

Brinn preserve me, Damien thought, heart pounding in his chest so hard that he was getting dizzy, it wasn't supposed to be like this. 

When he'd suggested restraining the vampire, he hadn't expected to find it so sexy. He hadn't been thinking at all about what it would be like, wrapping the makeshift rope around Cain's wrists (and he didn't want to dwell on how good that cool, unexpectedly soft skin had felt on his fingertips). He'd stepped back from trussing the vampire to the bed, only to realize the long, lithe man made a picture of utter debauchery, spread out as he was in a rumpled bed, unkempt black braid, intense gaze, and just a hint of a sneer revealing the barest gleam of a fang. 

Damien had expected to feel repulsed, not immediately aroused. He'd fumbled for what to do with himself, and then Cain had made it infinitely worse by smirking at him, like he knew what he was doing to Damien, spreading his legs invitingly, tilting his chin and piercing through him with a devastating come hither look. Damien's hands were practically shaking with the need to touch him, and he couldn't even manage to talk sense into himself with the reminder that this bastard had been the one to kill his family, because the only thing his stupid wolf brain seemed interested in was the fact that he was half-naked and this was his mate.

He took a minute to steel himself, and tried telling himself he was fine, that all this was fine, before eventually taking the plunge and crawling closer, taking a bit of liberty in resting a hand on Cain's knee to pull closer. He leaned forward, about to brace himself on the man's hip, next, when a strangled half-whine, half-growl escaped the vampire, and Damien felt like every hair on his body stood on end, a shudder of ecstasy skittering down his spine. "What was that?" he demanded, afraid to move.

"You're…" the vampire swallowed hard, throat bobbing. "...close," he finished, his eyes alight with something that could be hunger, or maybe something else.

Or maybe that was Damien's own stupid instincts reading into the situation. He couldn't keep doing this, his instincts were going to be the end of him. He scrambled forward the last few inches, trying his best to avoid actual contact (afraid of what Cain might feel, if they touched), before shutting his eyes and saying, "Just get it over with, please."

The next thing he knew, Cain's cool tongue was running up his sternum, the soft brush of lips barely noticeable beside the telltale scrape of fangs. Damien held himself still, trying to remind himself that the vampire had said he wouldn't bite - they were big teeth, and maybe they would still scrape, even if he wasn't actively trying to use them.

Maybe Damien wanted him to use them.

He forced the thought aside with insistence, knowing that such thinking was merely the wolf part of him, more insistent this time of the month. It was just the part of him that longed for a mate, for a bond that the rational side of him knew could never be allowed to exist. He wouldn't allow himself to surrender any part of himself to the vampire, and that meant that he could never allow a bite to happen. Not just because there was a good chance that his mate's bite would absolutely result in enthrallment (he doubted Brinn's dubious protection extended to the enthralling powers of his mate, after all), but because he refused to be tied to a mate like this in any sense, be it in a werewolf way or a vampire way.

When Cain reached the base of his throat, he lapped at the dried blood that had trickled from his neck. Damien had thought the plan had been to leave the open, weeping wound, for last. But Cain seemed intent on following the trail of blood back to its source. 

Damien wanted to pull away, but he also wanted to be done with all of this mess, and so he forced himself to hold still, bracing himself to spring away at the first hint of drinking. 

Cain paused, then, at the base of his throat, inhaling sharply before saying, in a rough voice that sent shivers down Damien's spine, "Come closer."

Without thinking, Damien bent towards the voice, tilting his head to the side, allowing easier access to the place on his throat where Crowe had bit him, again and again, ruthlessly. The cool tongue ran up the side, slow and deliberate. Cain's breath tickled the small hairs on the back of his neck. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest, and had no doubt the vampire could hear it, if not feel the pulse jumping in his veins. 

His lips closed around the bite, and sheer panic flooded Damien's body, but before he could pull back, Cain retreated, saying gruffly, "Calm down. You're making it taste worse." 

For a moment, Damien felt confused. Then he realized, and his eyes flew open so he could stare down at the vampire with utter contempt. "You can taste emotions?" he demanded. 

"Stress and fear have a peculiar scent, don't they?" Cain replied, drawing back and meeting Damien's gaze with more calm than he had expected. "Why wouldn't blood be the same?"

He had a point, Damien reflected. "I guess that makes sense."

Cain licked his lips, blinking those thick dark lashes over blood-red eyes once, twice, before saying, "May I continue, or do you have any other questions?"

Damien swallowed hard. "Go ahead." He shut his eyes again, and tried not to panic. Cain hadn't bit him. Even at the point where his blood was still trickling freely, he hadn't tried to drink more than was already there. He'd kept his word. The least Damien could do was try and make the rest of it a bit easier. "Just… be careful?"

"Always," Cain answered with an almost predatory rumble in the back of his throat, sending another involuntary shiver down Damien's spine.

By the pantheon, he was never going to recover from this experience. How could he unsee the sexiness of the vampire after this? He hated the fact that the bond was forcing these feelings onto him. Brinn had a lot to answer for! 

Cain was lapping at the place where Crowe had bitten him, not fully enclosing the site with his mouth as he had the first time. He must have realized something that Damien hadn't been able to articulate at the time, but seemed obvious now - the mouth, closed around that spot, had felt far too similar to the way Crowe had drank from him, and the sensation was terrifying. The little kitten licks that Cain was using now felt entirely different. A little ticklish, but not as innocent as Damien could have hoped for. Or perhaps that was just him, his instincts on such high alert that everything his mate did felt inherently sexual. 

After what felt like an eternity, but had likely lasted less than thirty seconds, Cain drew back with a pleased hum, the sound rumbling low in his throat. "That should do it," he said. 

Sure enough, though Damien could still feel the soft caress of Cain's magic lingering around the spot, the dark, viscous nastiness that had been Crowe's magic seemed to have been completely washed away by the actions of his mate. 

"Thank you," he said.

"Let's see about the rest of these, now," Cain said, his head dipping lower, dragging a long, cool stripe across Damien's throat before sinking lower, towards his bare chest. 

Damien had expected Cain to aim for the cuts and scrapes, but instead, the vampire was dipping lower, until he reached the space where Damien's ribs continued to ache dully. "Is that going to work?" Damien asked.

"Won't know until we try," Cain answered, his breath ghosting over Damien's side. "But it's the most dangerous injury to leave untreated, so better to try than do nothing."

Damien couldn't argue the point, though his whole body shivered at the open-mouth licks Cain began peppering along his side. At first, he didn't think anything was happening. Then, the cool caress of Cain's magic seemed to sink into his skin, soothing the hot ache of his aguished ribs. It wasn't fully healed, Damien didn't think, but the pain and the worst of it seemed soothed by the vampire's touch. Tongue. Whatever.

Cain didn't stop there, continuing to pepper Damien's whole body with open-mouthed licks, his lips encircling smaller cuts, pressing his tongue flat and dragging it slowly along the longer ones. What had begun as a gentle, prickling sort of arousal was gradually being fanned into a passionate, roaring inferno of desperation. Damien had never felt such raw, unadulterated need, nor had it ever felt so aimless and insubstantial. He didn't know what he wanted, what his body wanted, only that it did, most ardently and viscerally, want. 

He felt, more than heard, the whine break through his lips when Cain's lips circled one of the cuts hovering low, near his navel, tongue almost probing Damien. The cool, insistent force seemed to send a shock of heat through him, straight to his center. He wanted to push forward, and pull back, he wanted to get closer, bury himself inside Cain's skin and yet crawl out of his own. He didn't know what he wanted, just that whatever it was, he wasn't getting it, and the frustration was building faster than the vampire's magic was healing his wounds. 

Finally, just when he thought he was going to do something deeply embarrassing, like stain his pants from the inside, Cain pulled away. It took Damien a second to reign in his instincts, barely stopping himself from chasing after that devilish tongue, instead sagging backwards, rocking onto his heels and realizing, suddenly, that he was panting heavily, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He tried to find something to say, but his mind was whited out like the forest in a heavy snowstorm. 

"I think you could use a break," Cain said, his tone even. He seemed totally unaffected by the experience, unlike Damien, who was stretched thin - like a sinew about to snap - and still trying to catch his breath.

"Yeah," Damien finally managed to say, the only word he could call to mind at the moment. 

"Most of the injuries here have been healed," Cain continued. "Your back, though…"

Right. Crowe had pulled out a whip, at some point. He'd only used it a few times, but there were probably some nasty scars back there. Maybe letting Cain lick his back would be less… sensual? Maybe it would be worse. Damien wasn't sure. He could barely tell which way was up at this point and his wolf senses were in a minor panic because apparently it was imperative for him to determine whether he was to be the alpha or omega in this bond, and the fact that the matter had neither been introduced nor even explored at this point was becoming almost unbearable. The physical closeness was creating a chasm in his chest, a hollow ache that longed to be filled, and Damien wasn't even sure with what. 

Besides, vampires didn't have alphas or omegas. They didn't even have true mates! They had thralls and masters, and if what Grace said could be trusted then they had both at the same time, even. Damien didn't want to poke any of that nonsense with an oversized fishing pole, much less seriously consider it. And yet here he was, instincts roaring at him to command, or submit, and see which one took. As if either would take! His mate wasn't a werewolf! But he couldn't exactly tell his instincts that, and the physical closeness was making it harder and harder to hold back the part of him that screamed mate every time he caught the barest whiff of Cain's scent. 

Cain was staring at him, eyes hooded, his dark lashes concealing all but the barest sliver of his scarlet gaze. "Damien," he said, not really questioning but also not commanding. Just ghosting his voice over the syllables of Damien's name.

He shuddered at the way Cain's low baritone caressed his name. "Yes," Damien said hoarsely, not even sure what he was agreeing to. 

The man's lazy expression sharpened, his brow creasing, lashes lifting slightly as he stared at Damien, calculating. He said again, "Damien…?" His voice was more hesitant, but no less deep, no less sultry, no less appealing.

Yes, Damien intended to say, but instead, the word "Mate," fell from his lips, the weight of it drawing him deeper into whatever state he was slipping under, sinking like a man in the ocean who has never learned to swim and knows his fate is sealed. 

Cain's eyes widened, his body tensing, hands briefly tugging at the restraints holding him to the bed. "Damien," he said, more urgently, "Talk to me. What's happening?"

Commands. Cain was giving him commands. Talk? Damien could talk. 

"Alpha," he whispered, because that was what his mate had chosen. It was like a blanket of calm settled over him at the realization. Finally, finally, he understood his role in this dance. Cain was alpha, which meant that Damien must be omega. He would submit, would surrender, would obey the alpha's commands.

"What?" Cain said, sounding confused. That was all right. He would understand soon enough, Damien was certain. Sometimes it took a little while for a mate to recognize their role, even if Damien thought he was being rather obvious about it. Should he be more obvious? That seemed like a good idea, at least in the moment, so Damien lifted his chin and tilted his head to the side, baring his throat in the way an omega would to pacify their alpha. Cain wasn't really in a state to need pacifying, Damien didn't think, but surely the gesture would be immediately recognizable. 

"Damien, stop," Cain said, his voice dipping into a low rumble that sent shivers down Damien's spine. "What are you doing right now? What is this? Stop showing off your neck and explain what's happening." The man was tugging uselessly at his restraints, his eyes fixated on Damien's throat. That was good. His alpha instincts knew what they wanted, even if Cain was being a bit stupid about it. 

"Alpha," Damien purred, daring his alpha to correct his misbehavior by flagrantly not obeying the man's command, continuing to leave his bared throat on display. "Please."

"I'm not a damn wolf, Damien," Cain's voice was dropping into a lower register, his words becoming clipped and guttural. "Stop showing me your throat. Stop begging. Stop this." 

"Please," Damien whispered, meeting the man's hot, blood-red gaze and saying, as invitingly as he could manage, "mark me. I want your bite."

With a snarl that was more monster than human, Cain lurched forward, once, twice, and then with a sickening crack, one of the bedposts splintered, while the other was ripped fully away from the headboard. In the same instant, Damien was pinned to the bed, the feverish gaze of his mate boring into him.

"You are going to regret this," Cain snarled, his head dipping even as he spoke, breath playing over Damien's bared throat.

Alpha, Damien's wolf thought triumphantly. Mate.