Work Text:
English Countryside, 1818
Christian cannot get enough of Jensen’s kisses, diving in again and again, making Jensen’s exquisite lips even fuller, redder, perfect. The only thing better is the way Jensen’s body is moving against his, sliding and grinding and causing a fire to ignite along Christian’s spine. This is what he has spent years searching for.
He gets a hand between them; cupping the bulge he finds there and is rewarded by a sweet gasp falling from Jensen’s lips.
“Christian, please, this–nngh–is wrong. Stop. We… we… Oh, oh God,” Jensen moans when Christian finally undoes Jensen’s trousers and reaches for Jensen’s quickly hardening prick.
“Not stopping.” Never going to stop, he thinks, moving in for another kiss that Jensen returns, the palm that was pushing against his chest a moment ago is now fisting Christian’s waistcoat.
He is not sure if he can actually stop, not when this is finally happening, not when he has finally, finally found his mate. Lust and need overwhelm him, there is nothing he wants more than to bury himself deep within Jensen’s heat.
It takes all his control not to elongate his fangs and sink them into Jensen’s tender flesh. He can hear it, the rhythmic pulsing of blood coursing through Jensen’s body, loud and rich and captivating like a siren’s song. Getting noisier and stronger by the minute, after each kiss.
“It will be all right,” he whispers in Jensen’s ear. “No one can see us.” They are hidden away from the main house by the stables. And it is dark out, the only light is the full moon halfway risen.
He presses kisses along Jensen’s jaw and neck, amused when Jensen tips his head back to invite more of Christian kisses but still protests, “Not that. What we are doing is wrong.”
But for all of Jensen’s words, he pulls Christian closer, hiding his flushed face in Christian’s neck and whimpers after receiving a long, hard stroke.
“We must stop… Not right... Both men...” Jensen pants and Christian does it again before pushing Jensen against the stable wall and swallowing Jensen’s words with a deep kiss. God, that mouth. Plump lips made for kissing. Made for Christian.
Jensen spreads his legs and Christian slots his hips into place. Ah, yes, another thing that is made for him: Jensen’s bowed legs. A perfect place to slide into. A place made just for him.
They trade hot, open-mouth kisses, grunting and gasping, tongues snaking around each other. Christian places his free hand around Jensen’s arse, unable to resist giving a good squeeze, the other still stroking Jensen’s leaking prick.
“Want you so much.”
“Want you too,” Jensen says, then seems to think on his words and roughly pushes Christian away, his legs closing as much as they can. “No, no. This is not…we– Men are not meant to lie with each other, Christian. It is against nature, against God. It is a sin.”
He frowns as Jensen does his best to do up his trousers around his flushed length. “How can love ever be a sin, Jensen?”
Jensen’s eyes widen. “Love? We met not a fortnight ago. This is not love, it is lust.”
Christian sighs, not knowing how to explain to Jensen, a human. He has no concept of what mate is. None of their kind do.
“It will be,” he says, cupping Jensen’s head tenderly. “We are meant for each other, made for each other.”
“I do not un–” Christian smacks a hand over Jensen’s mouth.
“Hush,” he orders, nostrils flaring, trying to ignore the smell of arousal, something is off.
Something foul and retched is in the air, to the north, towards the manor…
Close, too close and getting closer. Two– no, three werewolves! Bullocks! How could he have missed this? Too caught up in the moment with Jensen and now he fears he may be too late.
“Sorry, love,” he says, grabbing Jensen.
“Christian, what? I–” Jensen gets no further before Christian is shoving him in the stables and locking him in.
He hears Jensen yelling at him, pounding at the door but pays no heed, running towards the screams and vicious snarls, the sound of flesh being ripped from bone. He is already too late.
He crashes threw one of the larger windows, golden eyes assessing the scene: a handful of human bodies half-eaten, he barely has time to identify them as Lord and Lady Ackles and a couple of servants before two weres are on him. He manages to throw one against the wall with enough force to knock it unconscious but the other is not so easy.
Christian blocks as many of the bites as he can, breaks one of the were’s legs but the thing does not slow down, jumping on him and clamping its jaws around his left shoulder, nearly tearing Christian’s arm off. He falls on his back, hitting his head hard on the stone floor, landing not from Jensen’s father. He sees a small sword in the lord’s hand and with his good arm reaches for it, grasping the handle tightly and spearing it into the werewolf’s heart in one swift move.
He pushes the dead creature off him, rising to his feet slowly, clutching his injured arm. It hurts terribly, looks even worse. Skin gone, muscle shredded, spots of bone visible. It will take days to heal.
It is then he remembers about the third werewolf, is about to go looking for it when he hears a gasp behind him.
“Dear lord,” Jensen’s voice, low and horrified, disbelieving. Heartbroken.
Christian turns to face him. “Jensen,” he starts but a child’s terrified scream fills the air.
“Margaret!” Jensen calls out and rushes towards the stairs.
Christian is about to follow, knowing now where the third is and not wanting Jensen anywhere near it, when something heavy and fury tackles him from behind, knocking him down. The unconscious werewolf must have awakened.
His left arm hinders his movement and balance, the minutes tick by as both vampire and werewolf battle for the upperhand, each moment increasing Christian’s worry about what is happening upstairs.
When the were finally takes its last breath, Christian trudges up the stairs as fast as he can, body covered with claw marks and bites, his left arm completely useless. The door to little Margaret’s room is half open and with apprehension, he looks in, bile rising in his throat at seeing what remains of Jensen’s sister’s small body.
A noise from inside the room causes Christian to walk in and there, by the window where the moonlight is shining in, is Christian’s worse nightmare.
A werewolf standing over his mate’s lax body, blood oozing heavily from Jensen’s ripped open abdomen. Christian makes an inhuman sound, filled with anguish and rage, his heart shattering. With the last of his energy, he charges, snapping the beast’s neck and pulling it away from where it was about to feed on Jensen’s innards.
He does not notice Jensen’s dagger in the were’s chest, does not realize its blood had been dripping into Jensen’s open wounds. Christian’s eyes fill with tears, kneeling beside his mate.
“C-Chris…” the sound is barely a whisper but Christian hears it loud and clear, eyes darting to Jensen’s face, a thousand emotions flowing threw him as those beautiful green eyes blink up at him and Jensen slowly sits-up.
“Jensen! You are alive! No, no, do not try to move, love. I have you.” He pushes one hand against Jensen’s stomach, trying to hold in what he can. The other reaches for his mate’s face.
Jensen flinches back. “Your eyes… Your...” He coughs then, his every word and breath labored. “Your teeth. What are you?”
“I’m a vampire,” Christian explains. “And those were–”
“Monsters–vile monsters. My family! They killed my–” Jensen coughs again, blood pouring from his mouth.
“Hush, love. Don’t try to talk.” He glances down Jensen’s body. Too much damage, too much blood. No doctor, human or otherwise, can fix this.
“I am dying.”
“No! I can save you. Let me save you.” Christian does not care that he is all but begging now. He cannot let Jensen go, not when he has only just found him.
“How?”
“I can make you like me.”
“A vampire?” Jensen questions and with a shaking hand, reaches out to Christian’s mouth, traces along where his lips are covering his fangs.
“Aye, but it is more than that.” He wants to make sure that Jensen fully understands what this means. He takes Jensen’s hand, bringing the knuckles to his lips and kissing them gently, waiting until Jensen’s eyes are on his before saying, “You will not be able to die– not easily, that is. You will not age. You will stay exactly as you are now, Jensen, for eternity.”
Jensen gasps but does not say anything, so Christian continues, “You will have to watch your brother grow old, watch as your nephew ages and dies, watch as all your friends and what is left of your human family dies. But you shall have me and my–our coven. You shall be our family. And you will be mine, my mate. For always.”
Jensen is not looking at him any longer, eyes focused on the opposite wall, where his sister lies. His breathing has grown more and more heavier, face deathly pale, Christian’s hand on his stomach is covered with blood.
“But… you are… stronger… than them,” Jensen struggles to say. “You killed… them. All of… them.”
Christian nods. “Aye, vampires are much stronger than humans. A match for any werewolf.”
“And I… will… be just as… strong?”
He licks his lips, not liking where Jensen’s mind is going but if this means he can keep Jensen then, “Yes.”
“Do it.”