13
Kylo
The sun’s warmth and soft light shines across Kylo’s skin, gently waking him from his peaceful slumber. As he remembers where he sleeps, the events of last night playing behind his lids, his eyes slowly open to behold the vampire snuggled against him.
Lathan must feel him stir, because as Kylo watches his boyfriend with sweet fondness, he’s pulled closer into his body, Lathan’s head nuzzling into his hair. “You awake?” he whispers groggily.
“Mhm,” Kylo hums, snuggling closer with closed eyes. “Did I wake you?” His voice is raspy and rough from last night’s cries of pleasure.
He can feel Lathan’s lips pull into a smile atop his head. “Lost your voice a bit there, huh? Think our neighbours will say anything today?”
“If they do, I’ll fight ‘em,” he says with scrunched brows, before melting into a smile. I hope this lasts forever. Man, I love him, he thinks, wiggling slightly, as if he can get any closer to him.
Lathan pulls his head back. “Have you ever been in a fight?”
“Verbally—I’m more of a lover than a fighter.”
“Oh, so what you really mean is that you’d bitch them out,” he says, and then kisses him softly, his breath slightly tinged with a metallic scent, from last night’s feast.
“Maaaybeee,” Kylo sings, extending the word with a melody, eyebrows raised, and then he leans in again to return Lathan’s gesture, smiling into his lips.
They stay in each other’s arms for a while, basking in their closeness, soft teases, and gentle smiles. Kylo is engulfed with a comfort and safety that’s hard to articulate. It feels strangely natural, despite it actually being so unnatural to be together, a vampire and a werewolf.
They peel themselves off of one another as the sun settles higher in the sky. Lathan heads off to the gym, but not before giving Kylo a longing goodbye. While he’s gone, Kylo attempts to corral his focus onto his studies, even though his desk is now covered with sexual fantasies. He manages to shake them off, working on his most recent assignments, until a notice is slipped under their door. But when he reaches for it, it isn’t a notice, rather a flyer. It isn’t unheard of—students looking for interviewees or tutoring clients or advertising a side hustle. This one has a bold LOOKING FOR EXTRA CREDIT? title, immediately catching Kylo’s attention.
Damn, with how my grades are slipping this term, I could really use the extra credit. I mean, who wouldn’t? Classes here are hard enough to pass, I’ll take any shot I can. Bringing the paper over to his desk, he reads over the contents on the one-sided print:
The Social Ramifications of Integration
Presented by special guest Dr. Jarvis Rovert, a researcher of Ether-human sociology and conflict studies.
Saturday, Sept. 21, 2024
6pm – 8pm
West Campus Auditorium
Students participating in the event will receive three credits for the term.
Hm. He drums his fingers along the paper . Thought the West Auditorium was closed for renovations… Maybe it was the only space available this weekend? Oh well, I can spare a couple hours.
Lathan is gone all afternoon. Probably busy working out, or studying at the library, or living his life—Kylo isn’t the keeper of his time, even now that they’re an item. Kylo keeps studying for a few more hours before writing up a note and leaving it on his desk placing it adjacent to the flyer. “Grabbing dinner it’s dark and empty… I don’t like the look of this, I think I’ll pass on the credits.
Kylo turns and tries the doors, but they don’t budge. Shit. Something must have been wedged in the frame to keep it unlocked before he had arrived, but with the door’s movement, the piece dropped to lock Kylo in.
“Come in, come in,” a man’s voice echoes, the hollow room creating extra bass to the call.
Turning back toward the voice, Kylo inches forward. “Hello?” The light from the windows beams down onto his face, blinding him from seeing through the dark of the room. Using his hand to block his eyes, he walks halfway down the steps, trying to find the figure speaking.
“I’m glad you could make it. Sadly, it seems no one else jumped at the promise of extra credits.”
The smooth voice is uncomfortably familiar. Controlled and calculated footsteps approach Kylo. Their ricocheting clack is oddly menacing for a professor. Though, the easy smile elongating across the oncoming face is sinister, not friendly—fifteen feet away, Trevor’s face comes into focus.
“You seek the thrill, don’t you, wolf boy?” His eyes narrow in on him, flashing his elongated fangs with his disgusting grin.
Kylo’s heart drops to his feet— Fuck! his eyes widening as he realizes he’s been tricked, lured here. Turning on his heels, he sprints back up the stairs to the doors. He pulls hard on each, but neither give. Looking over his shoulder, he panics even more. I’m so fucking stupid—No, there’s no time to blame myself. I need to run, I need to get away. I don’t want to die.
“Where are you trying to go? Don’t you want your extra credits? It really is a simple workshop.” Trevor climbs the stairs after him slowly, knowing there’s no escape.
He scans past Trevor, searching for any other way out, but there’s only one, a door on the concrete floor at the far end of the building. An emergency exit he’ll never make in time.
His eyes dart back to the vampire growing closer. “Fuck you,” he snarls, showing his top and bottom fangs.
“Oh,” Trevor starts, pausing to let his grin deepen, “gladly. Then there might be an extra treat in this for you.” His words drive fear into the space where Kylo was filled with anger, his ears pinning back as his body remembers their last interaction.
Trevor closes the gap between them, the shadows from the door’s overhang darkening his blonde hair and casting a hard line across his malevolent expression. Kylo presses his back up against the door, eyeing the gap between the vampire and the first row of seats, a gap he could squeeze through.
Without another thought to stall him, he takes the opportunity, dropping to the ground and pushing off the floor to thrust himself forward. Sprinting the full distance, he throws his body at the door. But there’s no handle, nothing to push or pull, no lock to unlatch. It’s a fire entrance, sealed from the outside of the building for emergency crew only.
“No,” he squeaks with desperation. “Fuck. Please .” He slams his fists against it, pleading with the door to open just for him, bypass the laws of physics just this once. Reeling back, he pile drives his whole body into the door, but still, nothing.
“Workshop ends at eight,” Trevor says, suddenly behind him. “It’s rude to leave early.” He snatches Kylo and pushes him hard against the adjacent wall, close to its row of bleachers. His fingers, holding Kylo still, feel sharp, as if he bears claws.
Kylo cringes at the pain of hitting the wall, but keeps his gaze down, not wanting to give Trevor the satisfaction of looking him in the eye. Instead, he tries thrashing his body to get out of his grip. Unfortunately, Kylo is weak when not in his werewolf form, and vampires are notoriously strong, even without the muscles that Lathan carries.
“You came to me, remember? At the party. You wanted me to suck your blood.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” he bites back through gritted teeth.
“You don’t get to,” Trevor sneers. “When a vampire tastes someone’s blood, they don’t forget it.” His fingers travel to Kylo’s throat. “We are connected now.”
“I don’t believe your horse shit. Get the fuck off me!”
As he continues to avoid eye contact, Trevor takes in every inch of him, running those sharp fingers down the fresh bruise found on the opposite side of his neck. “You really are a little slut, huh?”
Kylo’s nose flares, his frown deepening with furrowed brows as he rolls his shoulder in an attempt to remove his touch from Lathan’s mark, thrashing harder in hopes of weakening his grip.
Ignoring his struggle, Trevor leans in closer to deeply inhale above the bruise. His lip curls into a disgusted snarl. “That fucker really thinks he has a claim on you,” he hisses.
“That fucker is my boyfriend!” Kylo barks, his blood hot and fast through his veins, and whips his head up to meet Trevor’s eyes—his red eyes. He’s starving from the blood shortage—potentially from Kylo ratting him out to the supply counter—and Kylo isn’t just a toy, but a meal ticket.
Trevor cocks an eyebrow down at him, chuckling darkly. “Your boyfriend? Please. When did he first feast on your blood? Because that’s the only reason he wants to be around you.” He presses closer, his red eyes wide and deranged. “There is nothing else a vampire would want with a werewolf.”
Kylo’s face is horror-stricken. Lathan’s bloodshot eyes were heartbreaking, painful to behold, the stare of a dying man. But Trevor’s psychotic disposition is nightmarish, his sclerae devilish, laced with bad intentions.
“N-no,” he stutters past his fear, thinking of yesterday, all the bliss and love he and Lathan shared during their night together. “You’re wrong. Lathan loves me. He’s nothing like you.”
“Oh yeah?” Trevor continues to press. “Did he fuck you as he drank your blood? After he heard me say how much better it feels?” Hot breath, filled with need, burns Kylo’s skin. “And did you like it?”
“W-what?” Kylo’s heart drops, the shock on his face saying everything he needs to know. Last night is still so fresh in his mind, fresh on his skin, tingling with delight, but Trevor’s words catch him off guard—he’s right, he had said that in the courtyard. “No, he wouldn’t…” He wouldn’t take your advice. He saved me from you. He would never listen to you.
Trevor looms ever closer, smothering Kylo with his tall stature. “I can recreate that,” he purrs, “and make this really good for you.” He grips him over his jeans, roughly, with the small space between them. “He doesn’t have to know.”
“No!” Kylo recoils against the wall behind him, disgusted by Trevor’s touch. “Don’t fucking touch me!” He knees his hand as hard as he can, thrashing to the side and managing to slip from his grasp. Racing away, he gains some space between them before he’s tripped, his body bashing onto the cement, and pinned to the ground with his hands pulled above his head. Kylo groans in pain, wanting to curl into himself, but with Trevor on top of his back, he can’t move.
“Stay still,” Trevor snaps, “or I really will kill you this time.”
Tears begin to well in his eyes. He was hoping that maybe he had a shot out, that he would’ve been able to run away, to escape, but why would he? The doors are locked, and he’s outmatched.
“Please,” he begs, his eyes shutting tightly as his chin quivers. The concrete floor is freezing cold on his stomach, his muscles and bones aching from his fall. In his pocket, his phone vibrates with an incoming text, but his position prevents him from reaching for it.
“I love a twink who begs,” He grits through his teeth, fangs glistening in the daylight cascading down on them from above. The blue hue around them only highlights his crazed red eyes, burrowing holes into Kylo, who stares up at him widely, tears streaming down the sides of his face, unable to look away. Lifting his weight off of him for a split second, he flips Kylo onto his back, straddling his thighs, keeping his hands pinned above his head with just one of his. Kylo doesn’t fight, he knows it’s useless. He’s already failed his one chance to run away, stopped by the vampire’s agility and strength.
Trevor leans further into him with a roll of his body. “Lathan thought he could challenge me and get away with it.” He uses his unoccupied hand to lift Kylo’s shirt, exposing his chest. “I’d like to see him beg once I’m done with you.” His hand glides across his bare skin, searching every exposed muscle. Kylo flinches, which only causes him to tighten his grip. “Once I’ve made you mine,” he purrs, trailing his hand down below Kylo’s navel, unbuttoning his jeans.
“No…please,” Kylo whimpers as his zipper lowers. “I-I don’t want this.” He shuts his eyes tightly, turning his head to the side; the only room he has to move.
“You will.”
Trevor sinks his fangs into the side of Kylo’s neck as he slips his hand beneath his waistband. The venom flows under his skin, weakening his body, which quickly becomes limp from its scared, tensed state. Small, pained whimpers escape his mouth as Trevor consumes him, pulling his blood ferociously while massaging him under his briefs.
While the venom is keeping his body compliant, his brain goes numb—shutting off his emotions, blocking out the pain radiating from Trevor’s rough feasting and the vile disgust of his hand touching between his legs. In this moment, it’s almost as if Kylo isn’t himself anymore, instead watching the act as a bystander in his own mind.
Suddenly, a rattling builds in waves, the sound crawling down the room and encapsulating them in its volume. Kylo’s eyes flick open, returning to himself. He cringes at the feelings across his body, returning to him as well, and another whimper escapes his throat. He cranes his neck further until the tendons cry, eyes searching for the source of the sound that Trevor is too preoccupied to notice—or promptly ignoring to get his fill—flicking up the stairs to the entry door. The lock is bent with a thunderous crack and the warped metal door swings open.
Lathan .
He found my note.
There’s a brief, slowed second as his boyfriend stands at the top of the stairs, staring down at the horrific scene in the middle of the large concrete floor. With unmatched speed, Kylo watches him bound down the stairs and across the room, lunging at Trevor and rolling with him before bouncing up to kick him away from Kylo.
Having been torn off of him so swiftly, Trevor’s fangs rip from Kylo’s neck, tearing the skin around the punctures slightly, causing two perfect streaks of blood to trail down his neck. Dizzy from the venom, his heart racing, adrenaline pumps loudly through his body, allowing him to gain enough strength to push himself up, staggering as he tries to stand. His shirt falls down to its natural state as he quickly fiddles with his pants to close them. Looking back up, Lathan’s pupils are barely visible, shrunk so tightly into his irises as he huffs rage-filled breaths.
As Trevor collects himself from the surprise attack, Lathan moves to Kylo and helps walk him over to the stairs, where he braces himself to sit down. No words are shared, but Lathan kneels in front of him and grabs either side of his face with extreme gentleness. They search each other’s eyes, and a few tears escape Kylo’s. Behind them, Trevor stirs across the floor.
“You pesky motherfucker,” he hisses, pushing himself up to standing; Lathan’s jaw sets as he hears him speak, dropping his hands and turning to face the menace. “My blood bag thinks you’re his boyfriend ,” Trevor scoffs, then turns his head to spit on the floor. “But—” he looks back up to Lathan, his new target. “I saw you took my advice. And I don’t blame you. The wolf’s body, his blood , is addicting.” His red sclerae widen with his bloody grin, wearing Kylo over his mouth, creating a truly psychotic expression as he positions himself defensively, lowering to the ground.
Kylo trembles as Lathan leaves him, starting toward Trevor. “I am his boyfriend,” Lathan sneers, “and I told you that if you touched him again, I’d rip your throat out.” He tilts his head to the side, like a shrug. “I guess today’s my lucky day.” His mimicked stance is quick, blurred by the speed of his immediate leap. He connects with Trevor’s waist, taking him to the ground. Trevor throws his arms up to block the attack just as Lathan wails down on him with tucked fists, coming at him from different angles, as if trying to pry his arms open.
As Trevor defends himself, he uses his legs to twist around Lathan, shoving him over his head, giving him enough time to slide away from him. But, in the moment of freedom, he rushes to Kylo with a swift launch forward. Kylo’s eyes widen, collapsing back as he tries to push his weakened body up, but he’s too slow. Trevor tackles him against the concrete stairs, flipping around to crouch behind him. The nails on Trevor’s one hand grow long and sharp, like daggers poking at Kylo’s throat, and his other yanks his head back by his hair—using him as a shield.
“Try me and I’ll rip his throat out,” Trevor warns, leaning into Kylo’s neck with his fangs bared. “As if I was nothing, you went and took my little toy—my meal ticket —and called him your boyfriend . You think you control what’s mine? No. I call the shots, Lathan.”
Crouched low, with a hand on the ground, Lathan studies Trevor. Planning. Analyzing every inch of him, how he holds Kylo, licks him. Lathan’s body twitches at the sight, but he holds himself back, trying to tread carefully against Trevor’s warning, despite Kylo’s eyes not leaving him, as if crying out for him in fear.
I can’t move or he’ll kill me. I… I don’t know what to do. Fuck. I don’t wanna die.
Trevor snickers triumphantly, as if he’s winning, and then pierces his fangs back into Kylo’s flesh. Kylo yelps, his wounds shredding further with another bite in the same spot. As he flinches, Trevor rests his clawed hand on his chest to hold him still. The vampire sinks into his body with his first large sip, as if the pleasure of filling his hunger consumes his focus.
The sound that leaves Lathan’s throat is animalistic. A growling shriek that shudders the whole auditorium. There’s a flash of red, and then Lathan is bounding toward them like a creature, on all-fours. So fast, Kylo might’ve missed it if he hadn’t been watching so intensely. He jumps at their sides, tackling them both, but managing to wrap his limbs around Trevor and freeing Kylo. He’s shoved off the stairs, assumedly by Lathan, and tumbles to the ground in front of the bleachers.
Kylo groans as he pushes himself up with his hands, his head swivelling to the spot where the two had rolled to. His breathing halts in surprise as he sees Lathan’s body change before him. His ears are long and sharply pointed, but not like a werewolf’s, like a hook. Snarling on top of Trevor, four fangs replace Lathan’s original two, a second set curving alongside the first. And the flash of red he had seen? It was blood, now streaking the bone-side of his forearms, growing protrusions fanning out from the gashes. Wings.
“This is what you fucking want?!” Lathan’s voice is not his own. There’s a static to it, an echo of something new. “Then let’s see how you like it.”
He chomps into Trevor with his new teeth. Trevor cries out in pain as the venom enters his flesh, just as Lathan had explained to Kylo. But these bites also aren’t the gentle kisses that Kylo is used to—he’s biting to hurt, to tear flesh, to make him pay.
Kylo is stuck, staring, watching the justified horror of Lathan’s new form sinking into him again, and again, and again. Trevor writhes underneath his weight, coughing up blood between his screams. Fresh crimson drips from Lathan’s mouth as he snarls down at the man, his now clawed hands slicing into the flesh where he pins Trevor, his long, fleshy, heavily veined wings now cascading fully from his arms. They’re wet with blood, wilted, like a butterfly that has just hatched from its cocoon.
Kylo slowly pushes himself away from the scene, backing up against the nearest wall, still watching with wide eyes. When Lathan said vampire fights aren’t pretty, Kylo still didn’t think it’d be anything like this. He didn’t know it could be. Didn’t know a vampire had wings just under the surface, had features they hide.
This must be a vampire’s true form.
A predator adjacent to Kylo’s wolf form.
A being trained on blood and carnage.
Trevor is no longer a threat, and hasn’t been one for minutes as Lathan continues to tear into his body. A part of Kylo wants to go to his boyfriend, comfort him and tell him he can stop, but seeing this destruction, his instincts keep him against the wall, afraid that Lathan may not be himself anymore.
As Trevor falls into shock, the only sound escaping his mutilated body being the blood gurgling from his throat as he blacks out, his eyes drift closed. It’s only when he’s motionless, soundless that Lathan stops, heaving above his prey, doused in blood. It paints his mouth—dripping like a dog’s drool over his lips—his chin, his throat and chest. A low rumble exits him as he breathes over Trevor’s unconscious body, sending a shiver down Kylo’s spine. A few moments later, he shifts above him, slowly looking over his own body, twisting to see the flesh connecting to his arms.
Hoping that his boyfriend’s observations mean he’s coming to, he takes a chance.
“Lathan?” Kylo calls softly, nervously. The vampire’s newly pointed ears twitch toward his voice, and Kylo’s heart palpates in return.
Slowly, his face turns toward him. His eyes haven’t changed, still warning of his oncoming wrath. They stare at each other silently. Kylo watching carefully, not wanting to provoke him further, knowing that if he was weak against Trevor, he wouldn’t stand a chance against him. Opening his mouth, he hesitates to speak, then, Lathan looks back down at what he’s done. The man bleeding out below him.
“Lathan,” Kylo manages to say again, quietly.
“I’m here,” he says, and though his voice is still contorted, it’s calmer.
His eyes glass over with tears hearing his voice. It’s him. He’s still here , he thinks, bracing himself against the wall as he goes to stand. His knees quiver, but he pushes through.
He won’t hurt me. I know he won’t. He helped me during the full moon, I need to repay that favour.
Kylo starts toward him, tears rolling down his cheeks, soaking into his shirt as they leave his skin.
As he slowly approaches, Lathan throws himself off Trevor. With a hard flap of his fresh wings, he’s propelled backward and onto his feet. He shakes his head, avoiding Kylo’s desperate, searching eyes. “Don’t.”
Kylo doesn’t stop. He continues slowly, exhausted, traumatized, and drained. He won’t stop, not when Lathan is so close.
Lathan takes a few steps back. “Ky,” he warns, though his tone isn’t threatening—it’s scared.
Halfway across the floor, blood still oozing from the messy wounds on his neck, he draws closer. More tears stream down his face, his breathing starting to hitch, breaking his attempt to stay calm. Then Lathan finally lifts his stare to find his eyes.
“Ky,” he says again, but this isn’t a warning, it’s a plea. A plea for him.
Reaching him with quicker steps, needing him just as much, Kylo wraps his arms around his new, bloodied form, pulling him into a tight embrace. The second his head tucks into his boyfriend’s chest, he begins to sob. Though his knees buckle and his body shakes, he keeps himself up by pressing into Lathan’s body.
Lathan’s arms hesitate before gently holding him back, as if cautious of where to place his wings and clawed fingers. “I’m so sorry,” he exhales, his voice painful. “I’m so fucking sorry .”
“I”— Kylo hiccups from a sob—“thought I…was gonna die. Until you came.” His breathing stutters as his body fights to speak through his violent crying. “Thank you,” he pushes out, louder than he would’ve liked, due to his tightening vocal cords.
Three times. You’ve saved me three times. ‘Thank you’ doesn’t even cut it.
“Are you…okay?” Lathan asks carefully, but he likely already knows the answer. Though Kylo wants to answer, a lump now blocks his throat, so he just shakes his head ‘no’ on his chest, gripping Lathan’s torn shirt. He feels small, weak, and vulnerable, almost like a child as he stands here crying. What Trevor did to him, how he touched him, his words still burrowing their way into his skull, he feels vile—as if his hands are still on his skin, his teeth in his neck. And Lathan saw it all.
“Sit,” Lathan says, as gentle as his distorted vocal cords can vibrate. “Sit with me.” He starts to lower, bringing Kylo to the floor with him, his knees on either side of Kylo, holding him against his wet clothes. Kylo glances over to Trevor across the floor, lying lifelessly, apart from the shallow, delayed rise and fall of his chest. He’s alive, but not for long if he stays like this.
“I need you to take out your phone and dial the Obscura’s emergency line. I’ll talk, okay?”
Kylo shudders in a breath, sniffling as he pinches the phone out from his pants pocket. His eyes and nose are red and raw, tears wetting his face and neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt. His chin and lower lip quiver as he tries to keep from sobbing again, his eyes still glazed, making it hard to see the numbers as he dials, holding the phone between them on speaker. He nearly passes it to Lathan, but lowers his hand as he stares at his new features, realizing why he had to make the call himself.
After a few rings, a woman answers and asks for details regarding the emergency, similar to calling 911.
“Hi,” Lathan says, “we need help in the West Campus Auditorium. The closed building. It’s urgent. We need emergency medical.” He hesitates, and then adds, “And only send vampires, please. Something’s…happened.”
The woman’ pauses to take in the information, confirms the location, and then cautiously asks, “Are you referring to a Code Rouge?”
Lathan swallows hard, his muscles taut against Kylo, and he stares off, in the direction of the dying predator. “Yes.”
After assuring them that people are on their way, they hang up, and Kylo drops his phone to the floor.
Lathan pulls Kylo’s head back against his chest, a clawed hand—using only his palm—pressing against the side of it, before pressing his lips into his hair. A calm and comfortable embrace, where Kylo feels safe to continue crying. Unruly noises escape his mouth as he gasps for air, clinging to Lathan’s shirt as he lets out all of his pent up fear, anger, shame, and violation. He doesn’t know how long he sobs, but eventually the sounds begin to taper off. Blowing out a long breath from his mouth, as if he were blowing out candles, he regains some of his composure.
“I love you.” The first words he can get past the lump still blocking his throat. The only words he wants to get out. Both to reassure Lathan, as well as himself, from the lies and doubts Trevor tried planting into his head.
A soft hand pets down his hair, over and over, trembling with restrained strength. “I love you, too, Kylo,” he says back, and clears his own throat as it starts to break.