As Humans Do (Patreon)

SUMMARY: Roman happens upon a macabre scene put on display in his personal library. The culprit is none other than August, who has chosen to pay him a visit despite many previous warnings. With most things August does, he has but one motivation: he’s bored. However, he can’t help but notice that Roman could use a bit of excitement in his life for a change. 

WARNINGS: Blood Play, Blood as Lube, Rough Sex

Roman stands at the entrance to his grand library, overhead lights casting a harsh shadow on his already severe expression. Rich, green eyes glare out with clear distaste reflecting in them. This is his prize for chasing whispers and hushed rumors shared among his household staff. Roman spots it before the ancient wooden doors can fully open. 

Before him rests a corpse. 

The cadaver is drained of blood; that much he can spot at a glance. Bite marks litter the skin visible to him, but Roman knows that many more lie hidden beneath those layers of clothing. None of these signs alone point to a culprit. Any vampire can kill in this way. What stands out, glaringly so, is the audacity with which the dead human’s remains are displayed: Propped atop an upholstered reading chair inside of his library, all in plain view from the moment one steps inside, with an open book resting on the man’s lap as if he’d set it down only seconds before. 

A comedically macabre piece of art. Roman knows only a handful of beings who can trespass undetected into his part of the city. However, only one of them possesses such a disturbed sense of humor. The name is on his tongue, venom lacing the letters even before he opens his mouth to speak it out loud. 

“August. What have I told you about making a mess?” 

His presence appears at Roman’s side as if he were there all along. August admires the display for a moment. “Remind me.” 

A snarl curls the ancient vampire lord’s lip. 

“You did this,” Roman states, “and in my territory no less.” 

August can almost taste the unasked questions no doubt swirling about Roman’s mind like a storm, but the other man remains silent. He gives nothing. The stoicism of the ancients is always annoying, August thinks. “You wouldn’t have noticed if I left it somewhere else.”

“This is another one of your plots, then.”

“You make it sound so sinister,” he coos. The following grin is all teeth and it does not reach his wine-colored eyes.  Much like in everything he does, August shows no trepidation as he begins milling about Roman’s prized bookshelves, fingers hovering a hair’s width away from the spines of whatever random volume that manages to peak his interest before dropping back to his side. 

“I do have other hobbies, you know.” 

“Yet you choose to dedicate so much time to these schemes.” 

“Well, that’s because you can’t deny that they produce the best results.” 

Roman sighs. “Is this all some immature ploy to grab my attention, then?” 

His smile widens, fangs on display. “Of course. What else could it be?” 

“I’ve learned long ago that such a question is pointless when it comes to you and your… motivations. Your childishness is nothing but an annoyance at best and an inconvenience at worst.”

“Well, I don’t doubt that,” he chimes, “seeing as you thrive off of being the most boring vampire in all of history. Any excitement must tire you out fast.”

Roman is not one to roll his eyes, but in that moment, he considers it. 

“I wonder what that says about your stamina~”

“Silence,” he growls, eyes narrowing in a warning glare. “Or I’ll toss you back into whatever hole you’ve chosen to crawl out of this time.” 

“Ooh~ Scary!”

August holds up his hands in surrender, a placating gesture, but his maintained smile is sign enough to show that he has no desire to back down. He walks toward the lounging body. Resting his arms atop the dead man’s shoulders, fingers of one hand teasing the bloodstained collar much like a coy lover, August then rests a cheek upon the top of its head. His eyes return to Roman. 

“Admit it, Ro. This is the most exciting thing to happen in at least a year.” 

“You will address me properly—”

“Admit it… Ro.” The vampire thumbs a fresh bite wound, blood smearing against the pallid, cold flesh. He licks his thumb clean of the coagulating blood. “It’s at least a little bit funny.” 

Roman’s patience wears thin. Yet he asks: “What could be funny about this?”

“Do you know the saying? ‘A dead man tells no tales’?” August doesn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “I made it so that he could read one instead.” 

“Your amusement is as barbaric as you are, August.” 

“Fine. So I admit, it’s not my best work, but I had limited time and resources.”

“It is nothing but crass and immature, much like its creator.” 

“Maybe so,” he begins, voice tinged with an edge, “but you’re about as mothworn as your books.”

Again, Roman snarls, fangs catching the limited light. “You come into my territory, make a mess of my library, and still have the gall to mock me?” 

“Yes, I do. It’s all a part of the fun.”

“Do you have some sort of death wish? Have you finally grown weary of an everlasting life?”

“Me? Not a chance. That’s more your thing, old man.” 

That stops Roman in his tracks, though not for long. It is, however, long enough for August to take his chance after agitating a healing wound. 

“Hit a nerve? That wouldn’t happen unless there’s some truth in it.” 

The green-eyed glare aimed at August grows deadlier. 

“Do you want to die, Ro?” He steps closer, careful despite his easy smile. “Is the life of an all-powerful immortal being too much to bear?” 

“You will not approach any further.” 

“Answer the question, first. If you’re honest, then I’ll leave.” Another step.

Liar, Roman hisses in his mind. 

Another one. The two are hardly an arm’s length apart. 

“Talk to me. One old soul to another.”

“Enough.”

A dangerous glint crosses August’s gaze. “No one understands you quite as well as I do. Right, Ro?” 

“My name is Roman!” 

The roar rattles the windows. He slams August against the wall. The impact, while not enough to cause severe damage to the old library, echoes throughout like a chorus of gasps. A fury twists Roman’s regal features as his grip on August’s neck grows tighter. The shorter vampire’s legs are no longer resting on the wooden floor below. Roman spots no fear in those crimson eyes. Instead, the lamplight dances in them with an open eagerness. August is taking joy in this. 

The impish nature of him belies a far more terrifying truth. Roman knows this well. He does forget, sometimes—everyone does—but it is in such moments that he is forced to face both a power akin to his own and wholly beyond his understanding. The manner of power which seeps from August is ancient. It is present in the solid grip on Roman’s arm. The pressure on August’s neck grows.

That smile only grows more irreverent in reply. Claws dig into Roman’s skin. 

“Precisely! You are Roman!” August’s voice grows loud. “Yet, you’d rather rot away in this place than live up to your name! Maybe you are better off dead than dull and reticent. What happened? You’ve become so boring, Ro!” There’s a true anguish towards the end of his rant. 

“I’ve changed with the times,” he tries to explain. “As should you.”

“Fuck that,” he snaps in reply. 

“Beasts such as you should be put down,” Roman growls, a rumble sits low in his chest with each word. 

“True enough.” His words are carried in a sigh as he arches his back up and away from the wall; either to ease some discomfort or to shift his body closer to Roman’s. “Do keep in mind that beasts are at their most deadly when cornered.” 

“Is that meant to be a threat?” 

“That depends. Do you feel threatened by me?” 

Roman is silent. 

“Lifestyles of the rich and the famous, am I right?” 

Roman shuts his eyes and sighs. “What do you want, August? My attention?”

“Sure.” 

That isn’t it. “My rage?”

“Maybe.”

No. Not that one. “My utter disdain?”

“I have that in spades, Ro.” 

“Enough of your riddles. What is it?” 

“Depends,” he whispers, just enough for the other vampire to pick up on it, “on what you are willing to give me.” 

“I do not understand.” 

August sighs, obviously disappointed in that answer. “No, you wouldn’t.”

Once more, Roman cannot find his words. The response is far too genuine among August’s usual fabrications. Instead, he chooses to change course.

“Are you bored, August?”

“Unbearably so.” 

“Is ‘fun’ all that you seek?”

“Maybe—” August’s words are interrupted as his head slams into the wall again. 

“Yes or no.” 

Roman watches how his pupils dilate. That in itself is an answer, but he waits.

“Yes.” 

Eyes narrowing, Roman waits. He blinks as a hand moves up, fingers catching one of the buttons on his two-toned shirt. August doesn’t break eye contact. 

“What about you?” he asks. “Are you bored?” 

Roman does not respond—not vocally. 

“Don’t you want to have some fun, too?” 

August unbuttons his shirt fully. Pulling at the collar, he exposes his neck, head tilted to the side while he regards his fellow undead. The gleam in his eyes should be beckoning, but it reflects a smugness as well. He is getting what he wants, after all. 

Either way, Roman loses in some way, and August has his fun. 

“C’mere, Roro. Live a little.”

“Do not test me further, little vampling.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare,” he purrs. 

The tension continues to thicken. The lingering scent of blood drifts around them, stemming from the corpse still seated in the center of the room. Another mess Roman will need to clean up in August’s wake, no doubt. Every piece of the puzzle falls into the annoying rogue’s favor. All a part of his plan—his game. 

Inevitably, as his eyes drift down and linger at the bare skin of August’s neck, Roman remembers this well: 

August cannot hope to love something unless he can consume it whole. 

Roman knows this, and understands that deeper down, he is not entirely different. In some way, all vampires share the instinct to take from that which plagues their minds most. Slade craves power. Viktor craves knowledge. August craves freedom. And Roman—

He sinks his fangs into August’s shoulder. 

The taste is nothing remarkable, if he’s honest. Blood from a vampire can never compare to the richness mortals possess. But Roman knows this has nothing to do with how delicious he finds it to be. No, this is about giving in to a baser instinct that he thought lost long ago. August is simply reminding him. 

Speaking of, Roman only then notices the hand woven into his hair, fingers digging into his scalp none too gently in a mockery of a cradling embrace. He retaliates, tightening the grip around the vampire’s neck. When even that fails to phase him, Roman presses in close. What doesn’t fail, however, is how he distinctly notices August’s cock stiffening up against him. 

“What could have inspired such rebellious behavior?” Roman grasps for control of the situation in any way he can—even if it means going along with the game. “Is Slade not paying you enough attention?”

“Who knows?” 

“Why else would you be prowling about?”

August smiles. “For sex, you mean?”

The question rattles him more than he cares to admit. His lip curls into a snarl that laces his following words: “Must you always be so crass?” 

August rolls his eyes in response. “Only when it comes to stubborn old men.”

Roman aims to point out that August is in fact older than he is, but the words die in his throat when the man’s hips grind into him. Instead, he’s left to fight back a shuddering breath. A hand slams against the wall next to August’s head, nails pressing into the wood to the point where it begins to splinter. 

“Case in point,” August mocks. “I’m here for the taking, Ro. What are you waiting for? You don’t need to be polite. Not to me.” 

He’s right. Why is he being so considerate? 

With a hand on August’s shoulder, Roman forces him to turn until his front is pressing against the wall. One leg slots between both of his. The laughter that shakes August’s shoulders is cut short when Roman bites down on his neck, drinking deeply, the sound turning into a cry he attempts to stifle. 

They’re both on the same page now. Not another word is spoken between them in the next few moments. Instead, the library is met with the sounds of whispering fabric as Roman works to undo August’s pants. In response, August shimmies his way out of them. They fall to the floor soon afterward. An especially soft moan comes from the raven-haired vampire as his stiff erection brushes the wall he’s pressing into. 

Roman continues on to free himself from his own clothing. Untucking his shirt and then unbuttoning his slacks, he brings his hips flush against the swell of August’s ass. And then he does it again. The moan he stifles becomes an exhale as his fangs continue to pierce August’s skin. In response, August grinds back on him. One hand clamps down on his waist. 

Roman spits into his other hand, August’s blood coating his palm. In the next moment, he’s working it over his length, breaths leaving in soft huffs. He can feel it in the musculature of the man he’s pinning to the wall; August is growing impatient. In truth, so is he. His mind is a swirl of rage and lust—all for this fool of an ancient being with far too much time on his hands. 

For only a split moment does Roman entertain that August may see him in a similar way. It changes nothing about what he wants—what he needs—to do. 

He lines himself up and thrusts. With one more push, he sighs out a curse as August wraps around him. The two vampires share an exhale of relief, a shudder moving through August as he’s filled out. 

“Admit it,” he finally gasps out, “you’re enjoying this.” 

Roman chooses to continue feeding rather than respond. In such a state, he cannot hope to put up a front. He’s barely capable of holding back the sounds bubbling away in his chest as he slides into August again and again. 

“Not a very talkative lover, are you?” 

A growl hits August’s ear, and it shuts him up. For the most part. 

Every slam of Roman’s hips against him tears a moan from his throat, and where the old vampire lacks in conversation, he makes up for in being relentless. He isn’t gentle with his fucking, either. He knows August can take it. Not many others can, so this…? It’s a rare and all-too tempting opportunity. 

Roman’s nails dig into the flush of his hip, spearing August further down onto his cock. August’s back arches at the continuing pace. Seizing the chance, Roman yanks his head back by the hair, earning another cry. Though, soon after, the sound of laughter bounces off the walls. 

“There you are, Ro!” The emotion in his voice is borderline euphoric. 

While he’s more than content to use August as he pleases to scratch the itch said vampire has chosen to awaken, he cannot help but consider what he gets in all of this. Sex, of course, but that’s too simple. Too easy. August can convince most if given enough time. Going through the trouble of walking into another leader’s territory, killing someone, setting up a scene… 

What is it all for? 

Roman uses his hold on August to turn them around. He bends the smaller immortal over the table and forces his head down onto it. Even throughout all this he does not stop. The corpse is knocked onto the floor, stiffened limbs causing it to land at an inhuman angle with sunken eyes staring at nothing at all. August’s cacophony of moans once again carries notes of delighted laughter. The noise drowns out the table’s legs scraping harshly against the wooden floorboards, and as Roman listens further, he can hear them echoing through the library. 

“What is my name?” He grunts out. “Say it.”

“Roro—Ah!” His voice chimes out, soon pitching up into a shout as Roman slams into him especially hard. The thrusts stop. That appears to bother August more than the rough handling. He whines and works to wiggle his hips, but Roman stops him by digging his fingers further into his hip. The muscles clench under his palm. “You’re punishing yourself, too, you know.”

“Unlike you,” he huffs out, “I have some semblance of control.”

“Hm.” He isn’t convinced. 

That irks him for some reason. “Finally at a loss for words? About time someone taught you some manners, Augustus.” 

“That’s not it,” he purrs. “I’m waiting for you to get on with it.” 

A growl rips through his lips as he slams his hand into the back of August’s head, sending the vampire’s face into the table. The wood cracks. Roman knows it’s all to get him angry, to make him go wild. He might foresee August’s plans, but he can never quite grasp the reason behind them. And that often proves as aggravating as the man himself. Roman is beginning to crave answers on the same level as his release.

But if he cannot have one, he will need to pursue the other. 

At that moment, things click into place: This is what he’s chasing. 

August wants to push him to this, to fall into the nature they share. A starving, insatiable, and eternal thing. He wants Roman to want something and take it. August simply made sure that thing was him, even if only for a fraction of an evening. 

Despite the clarity, Roman knows it’s far too late to change a thing. He isn’t all that keen to try, either. He runs a tongue over the blood dripping down August’s back from the bite wound he left earlier. Unremarkable, bland, and yet he goes in for another drink. Beneath him, August’s breath hitches and morphs into a whine. He grasps at the table, desperate fingers clawing to hold himself still against the onslaught of Roman’s constant rhythm. 

The taste of blood clings to his tongue as he pulls up for air. It drips down his chin and onto the wood, onto August’s shoulder and bare back. Such a sight sends a thrill of ecstasy down his spine. Roman is no fool—this is a gift. Few can hold their own against him, but out of that number, the moaning mess he’s fucking is one of them. 

Such a level of power can be addicting. It’s one he’s been given freely. 

That’s the point, he acknowledges. 

Roman isn’t going to last for long. August clenches around him, meets him with every roll and push of his hips. He has yet to slow down. He can’t. 

This is what August wanted and this is what he’ll get. 

“You gotta let go, Ro.”

That does not help him. “August—”

“Go ahead, Roman.” 

That, however, does. With a final thrust, he finally reaches the peak, and spills inside of the other vampire. The body beneath him shudders. Idly, he notices August working to finish himself off. Roman allows it, head dropping onto his shoulder in order to catch his breath for a moment. 

Again, August’s body trembles, and a long moan tells Roman all he needs to know about what it means. 

Breathing heavily and staring through bleary eyes, Roman slowly releases his steely hold on August. His hands grab onto the table for balance. He barely notices the other man slip away. 

His favorite table is ruined. The wood has deep gashes torn into it; a parting gift from August’s attempts to find some purchase while Roman rutted away like some deranged beast. He is no better than his twisted brethren, he realizes with a scowl, no better than—

“You sure do look sour for a guy who’s just gotten his rocks off.”

“Get out.” 

“Ouch,” August replies flatly. “Way to make a guy feel appreciated, Ro.” 

“I said: Get out. You’ve sewn enough chaos for tonight.” 

Walking away, and with his shirt already halfway redone, August regards Roman with a sideways glance, smirk prevalent on his face. “Fine. I got what I came for.” 

Roman’s eyes fall shut, head slumping down between his shoulders as the smell of blood and sex hits his nostrils in full force. He barely hears August’s footsteps departing the room. In fact, he mainly hears the second floor’s balcony doors sliding open—Of course the deviant got in through the balcony. 

“I’ll leave him to you, Ro!” He means the body currently sprawling on the floor at Roman’s feet, no doubt. “And if you’re ever in the mood to have fun for a change…”

Only then does Roman open his eyes again, catching August’s gaze as he leans over the second floor’s railing to grin down at him.

“... You know how to get my attention.”