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When Guillermo was younger, he thought the soft pudge lining his round frame meant he was weak. He was always told so. Either by a leering father across the dinner table, or a random classmate, the proof being in the way their words pierced him easily.
Now, at age 30, Guillermo stands before a theatre, bloodsoaked with a trail of carnage in his wake, and he feels powerful for the first time in his life.
“My name is Guillermo de la Cruz.”
And for the first time in all 11 years of service, he sees a flash of respect flit across Nandor’s dark eyes. Too little, too late he thinks bitterly. The stake falls from his grip, and he trudges through the mess of limp bodies to his vampires.
He approaches Nandor first, gently lifting the silver chains off of Nandors steadily sizzling skin. Guillermo’s deft fingers brush the tops of Nandor’s wrists, and he hears the vampire’s unnecessary breath hitch. A grin finds its way onto Guillermo’s face, but he refuses to meet Nandor’s eyes. Is it fear that grips Nandor’s breathing? Guillermo hopes so. Nandor isn’t looking at him, anymore: he can feel that intense stare directed away from him, towards Laszlo and Nadja.
The chains fall away from Nandor in an unceremonious clatter. Guillermo moves to untangle Colin, when a large mass barrels into him suddenly, knocking him onto the floor with intense force. He lands hard on his side, momentum moves him onto his back. Then there's a massive weight on his hips and wrists, as his assailant holds him firmly in place. As Guillermo takes stock of his surroundings, he realizes that his assailant is Nandor, sitting on his midriff and pinning his hands to his sides.
“Nandor! Wh--?” Guillermo gasps, the breath still knocked out of him.
Nandor is looking at him intensely, those dark eyes boring into him, but they soon come to life with a look that colors between despair, betrayal, and slight pride. His chest puffs out in a show that they both know is a mere act.
“Slayer!” He hisses, tightening his grip on Guillermo’s wrists. He looks more sad than betrayed, now. Guillermo can’t fathom why.
“I saved you!” Guillermo spat back, “You think I want to kill the people I just saved?”
“We don’t know what’s going on in that mushy little human pea brain of yours!” Nadja shrieks.
“Nandor, old chap, I say you should tie Gizmo up now.” Laszlo says nervously.
“Kinky,” Colin’s suggestive voice practically gives away the shit-eating grin he doubtlessly wears
“Shut up Colin Robinson!” All four of them screech in unison.
“Okay, Jeez.”
Nandor grabs the silver chain that Guillermo had just finished freeing him from, and looks Guillermo in the eyes as he releases the vice grip on his hands. His eyes are wide pools of cavernous darkness,
there’s an edge of pleading in the way he looks at Guillermo, a sort of desperation. Guillermo hadn’t ever seen Nandor look at him that way, and it stopped him in his tracks.
It was almost as if the vampire was willing him not to struggle, so Guillermo kept still. Nandor was surprisingly gentle with the way he took Guillermo’s wrists and carefully bound them in silver. His gloved hands were precise and unwavering in the looping motions forming a knot. Guillermo was slightly hypnotized, either that, or it was the exhaustion beginning to set in.
When Guillermo’s wrists were firmly bound around his waist, Nandor stood up.
Looking down at Guillermo, he spoke to the others;
“Now: what will we do with him?”
***
One Month Later…
“We have decided to make you a fully-fledged member of the team!”
“You’re gonna make me a vampire?” Guillermo felt the age-old flame of desire light his chest ablaze.
“Fuck no!”
“Oh,” he breathed.
I should’ve known better.
***
“This guy, he must be special!”
“He is. Very.” Guillermo breathed. He wasn’t used to the tickle of Nandor’s full beard on his face when he breathed out. His chest felt warm all the sudden. He suspected it was all the extra layers Nandor tended to wear.
“You should take him out after work one day and tell him how you feel!” Meg leaned forward eagerly, her grin piercing Guillermo.
Guillermo felt his breath hitch, “Feelings? No--thats--”
His (or, well, Nandor’s) hands suddenly felt very cold, his mouth instantly bone-dry. That couldn’t be it, could it?
“I’ve got to go.” He rose suddenly. Not used to Nandor’s height, he felt dizzy at how high above the ground he was, and stumbled out of the diner like a fool.
He ripped the Cloak of Duplication off the instant he was out of Meg’s eyesight, and ducked into an alleyway.
He pressed his back to the cool brick of the building, resting his head upon the brick, he watched his breath move in long, white tendrils of smoke.
“That can’t--I mean, Nandor? My ex-boss--?”
That would explain his constant and unwavering devotion, even when he was treated like dogshit. It would also explain the reason he always felt really hot when he undressed Nandor every morning and evening. But he didn’t think he was even into guys. He dated a girl in high school, but it was so brief-- and he never lost his virginity-- and he hasn’t really dated since high school--
Oh
Oh
Oh fuck
***
“How’d the date go, old chap?” Laszlo took a blasé puff from his pipe, half-engrossed in his beloved ‘Knobnomicon’ (which he stole from the Vampiric Council Archives).
Based on how trite and whiny Nandor had been acting for the past 10 minutes, Laszlo could only guess it went tits-up.
“I don’t wish to speak about it,” Nandor huffed, and sat down grumpily on the chaise. It seems that Laszlo had been on the money.
Guillermo watched Nandor carefully from the corner, currently polishing one of his many silver daggers.
“Am I doomed to be alone for all eternity, Laszlo?” Nandor bemoaned. Guillermo grit his teeth. He couldn’t stand it when Nandor talked like this--he would kill at the chance for Nandor to take him on a date, he knew that now.
“Fuck if I know, me old boy,” he took another demure puff from his pipe, “though if you keep whining like a climaxing maiden, I doubt any chap or chapess will want what you’ve got.”
Laszlo, unfortunately, had a point.
“I just can’t stand being alone! If only there were a person who loved me in this room right now. That would certainly make my life easier.”
Guillermo felt he could scream, but he settled for burying his silver dagger deep into the grain of the Fancy Room coffee table. As cathartic as it was, the crackling noise of the splintering wood unfortunately attracted the attention of both vampires.
“Gizmo, you okay? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost! Has that headless bastard come back? So help me--” Laszlo jumped up from his seat before Guillermo could explain.
“Guillermo, is there something wrong?” Genuine concern painted Nandor’s features, and it only made Guillermo angrier. He knew Nandor felt something for him.
How pathetic he was, fighting for scraps from a man who never treated him as anything but a weak, pitiful human. Just like everyone else in his life.
Tears pricked his eyes, and as Nandor drew closer with his stupid concern he fled the room, yelling about checking the perimeter, or something.
Nandor looked on, disappointed, as his little warrior human scuttled out of the room. His undead heart sank. He couldn’t figure out why the human made him feel this way when he was upset with Nandor. He presumed that he’d done something to upset the human, but he’d not known what it was.Fucking guy! Making me worry about him and his mushy human feelings! Eugh. He did not care for these worrying emotions screwing with his insides and making him feel human again. He really needed a girlfriend. Or boyfriend. Whatever.
***
Despite the wary peace that settled between the Vampiric Council and their household, there were still extraneous issues to deal with. First and foremost, a majority of the most powerful vampires on the eastern seaboard had been murdered, which left a very angry minority group of vampires behind. Most of whom held relations, close or otherwise, to the attending (now slain) vampires.
In short, revenge became a problem that Guillermo soon learned he had to deal with. Unfortunately, with the threat of the Vampiric Council gone, Guillermo had mistakenly allowed himself reprieve from the constant alertness that his job required. Slacking on his perimeter checks, losing track of various members of the household for hours at a time.
He’d also allowed himself to be distracted by…. other things. Since his realization of his feelings, Nandor had managed to find himself a lady friend that he was convinced was “the one” nearly every week. But that week had been absolutely unbearable. The woman he’d brought home was most certainly not shy about her attraction, and likewise couldn’t keep her hands to herself. It was all Guillermo could do not to burn holes in the back of her head with his stare. She clung to Nandor like a sloth to a branch, and the worst part was that Nandor was loving it. It was Saturday already, and they’d still shown no signs of slowing down or breaking apart. Guillermo was on edge, but not for the reasons he should’ve been.
He sat in the Archive of the Vampiric Council, and he could hear a distant and repeating scratching noise, accompanied by intermittent creaks. Guillermo had barely been able to contain his disgust: if Nandor and Selene were going at it again, he might just tear his hair out. He ignored it, until it grew in volume. And he realized it wasn’t the sound of animalistic love making--it was coming from the vents.
As soon as Guillermo identified the noise, it halted entirely with a light ‘whump!’ noise. Guillermo’s title as their defender suddenly occurred to him, and he dropped the book he’d been reading like it was aflame. He grabbed a stake from his bandolier and began silently yet frantically searching the rooms surrounding the archive.
He tried to remember where everyone had said they were going, and then realized the only other people in the archive were Nandor and Selene. At the same moment it dawned on him, he heard a distinct Nandor-like yell, and a crashing noise.
“--llermo!” The slayer caught the last few syllables of his name, and sprinted towards the sound.
Guillermo found the origin of the ruckus fairly quickly, and was able to break through the door just in time to find a vampire holding Nandor to the ground, a stake poised right over his heart. Guillermo didn’t even think: he simply started running. With unbelievable force, the smaller man barreled into the vampire, and managed to knock them off-balance enough to free Nandor.
“Run!” Guillermo shrieked as he wrestled with the assassin, before being cut off by a swift blow to the gut.
The human countered by slamming his silver-knuckled fist into the vampire’s face, they screamed, rearing back enough for Guillermo to get the drop on them. While the vampire was curled away in pain, the slayer drew his stake to deliver the final blow.
The vampire spun around violently, preternaturally fast, undetectable to Guillermo, and sliced a ugly crimson gash along the human’s right shoulder. He cried out, clutching the wound and stumbling back.
While Guillermo was reeling from the pain, the vampire had gotten the upper hand, using their unnatural speed to pin the human firmly to the wall
“I know who you are…slayer,” they licked their lips, “I was hoping you’d come,” they whispered delicately into his ear.
“I wonder what Van Helsing blood tastes like…” the vampire mused, pressing their nose to the column of his throat.
“And a virgin, too! Just my treat,” the assassin purred into the soft skin of his neck.
As Guillermo struggled to get away, his assailant pressed their thumb directly into the wound they’d caused, and he yelped in pain.
“Shh, It’ll be all over soon-- your dues will be paid.” As their teeth slowly descended towards his neck, fangs close enough to graze the skin, Guillermo shuddered, his eyes pricked with tears. How had he defeated so many at once, when now he could barely beat one? Pitiful.
Guillermo felt a devastating wave of rage wash over him, his eyes snapped open. With a final rush of adrenaline, he jammed his silver belt knife directly in their gut.
He heard a loud noise approaching to his right, and all of the sudden, the assassin wasn’t pinning him anymore. Instead, Nandor stood proudly over the slumped form of their assailant on the ground, presumably after being body slammed by a 250 pound Ottoman warrior. Nandor brushed his hands together as if to rub dirt off of them.
Guillermo slumped against the wall in relief, and let out a small sob. Nandor’s head whipped around to meet the human’s tired and terrified gaze.
“Guillermo,” he breathed, and he rushed over to meet the smaller man, helping him to the ground. Once again, Nandor wore that look of concern that made Guillermo want to punch him in his stupid, handsome face. But it also made him feel warm, all that soft attention focused towards him.
“I’m okay,” The human said, already predicting Nandor’s question.
Nandor huffed, his lip jutting out in a pout, “You do not look the ‘a-okay’,”
Guillermo couldn’t help his laugh, but just as soon regretted it as he clutched his shoulder in pain.
“Hey, do not strain yourself,” Nandor placed a sturdy hand on the junction between his neck and good shoulder, “back in my country, the soldiers who pushed themselves the hardest were often the first to perish,”
“O-oh,”
“Come on, let us get you cleaned up,”
When they came to a bathroom with actual first-aid supplies, Nandor sat Guillermo down on the grubby toilet, and told him to strip.
“Wh-what?!” Guillermo felt his face getting hot, his stomach a mess of butterflies.
“I cannot do the cleaning of the wounds unless I can see the whole wounds!”
“Oh, o-okay,”
Guillermo furtively removed his gloves, then his sweater vest. When he arrived at his white collared shirt, he hesitated.
“Oh for--! Let me,” Nandor slapped his dawdling hands away from the collar of his own shirt, and--Oh--this was somehow worse.
With his hands at his sides, he’d completely surrendered control, and could only watch as Nandor popped more and more buttons out of their snug positions, and consequently revealed more and more of his chest as he went. The urge to cover himself up was unbearable. His stretch marks were off-putting and ugly, and his stomach too generous to be venerated. But as Nandor pulled away his shirt, he sensed no judgement from him. In fact, his eyes seemed to darken slightly, in a way that made Guillermo blush to his chest. Maybe he thinks I’d make a good meal he thought bitterly.
But even Guillermo couldn’t dismiss it as hunger, he’d seen Nandor hungry: this wasn’t it. This was new. It thrilled Guillermo. Until he’d heard Nandor speaking again--
“Earth to Guillermo! The wrappings! They are all done.” Nandor beamed at him, a brilliant smile speckled with two sharp canines, beautiful, elegant and deadly.
Distantly, he heard Selene clamoring down the hall, before she burst into the bathroom in a melancholy, thinking someone had hurt her precious Nandor. But subsequently brightened when it was just the bodyguard who bled.
Nandor didn’t even think twice before jumping up to enthusiastically greet Selene with a passionate kiss. That's when reality came crashing back into Guillermo, so fast and so violent that it almost left him at a loss for breath. Nandor could think whatever confusing feelings he wanted of him, but Guillermo would never be the first choice.
***
Selene and Nandor’s relationship only escalated from that point forward. By the time at which Nandor insisted upon marriage, it had only been a month.
“I know you’re ready for love, old chap, but don’t you think you’re being a bit hasty for an eternal--I say eternal-- bond?” Laszlo pointed out cautiously one night. Nandor had simply clenched his jaw, saying nothing.
Guillermo had already cried his tears over this man, this vampire whom he’s cared for years. He couldn’t any longer. He wouldn’t settle for anything less than to be someone’s first choice.
Guillermo had decided: He would tell Nandor about his feelings, and then he would leave him to his happy marriage, for good this time.
***
The night before the wedding, Guillermo arrived outside of Nandor’s crypt, ready to spill his guts all over the floor, and have them stomped on by a 750 year old warlord. Worse things have happened, he supposed. He took a deep breath, about to open the door, when a soft voice from inside disturbed him.
“I know you are there, Guillermo: I can hear your poundy heart,”
That was Nandor’s own way of inviting Guillermo into his crypt, the human obliged. Guillermo carefully pushed open the creaking, centuries-old door.
“Do you be needing something?” Nandor looked worried: he looked so small in his night-wear. His shoulders were slumped, he worried with the nail of his ring finger, fooling around with the jewelry there.
“Yes, I--” Guillermo drew a deep breath, and began to walk closer to where Nandor currently sat.
“I came to tell you that--” the words lodged themselves in the back of his throat and refused to leave. They burned like a hot poker, stubborn and unwavering. Tears found their way to his eyes. He closed them, determined to rip the words out of him like a stubborn bandaid from soft skin.
“Nandor, I--”
“Jeez, is this going to take you the whole century?” Nandor stood up, brushing him off in that callous way he always used to. Not now, not this time. Nandor’s back was turned from him, now. He steadily approached the door, “Because I could leave and come back--”
Come on, Guillermo! Say it.
You are Guillermo de la Cruz, slayer of hundreds, just say it!
You slaughtered an entire theatre of vampires, but can’t conquer your feelings?
Nandor’s hand approached the handle to the door,
Say it
It was opening-- (and his chance was closing)
Say it
This moment was about to disappear for good--
Say it!
“Nandor, I love you.”
Nandor paused at the door, as solid as stone and just as still.
“I’m leaving for good. Tomorrow.”
***
The moment that his human’s soft voice formed those fatal 3 words, Nandor felt as alive as the day he first went to battle. His stomach erupted into a confusing and sickening maelstrom of buzzing insects, all demanding attention. He felt odd. Selene had never made him feel this way! Fucking guy, messing with his insides. Still, though, Nandor stood completely dormant, the words piercing through his armor like a sword through the joints of chainmail.
Guillermo’s next words would pale in comparison.
They slammed into him like a freight train, back to the moments in which he woke by himself without Guillermo to help him up. The empty feeling of descending from his coffin alone, dressing himself like some goddamn cave pig. It felt like picking up that note on Guillermo’s bed that merely read “Sorry,” except a million times worse. The feelings he was experiencing only matched with the moment he died, alone and scared of what came next.
But just like then, and just like now, he would soldier on.
***
Nandor felt a heavy weight at the bottom of his stomach. He didn’t know what it was, or where it came from. When he told Nadja about it, looking to her for kindly, womanly advice, she started screeching about witches cursing him and how she would ‘murder those semen-stealing bitches in the Brooklyn for ruining Nandor’s wedding.’
When he asked Laszlo about it, he suggested Nandor have a ‘good wank’ and then kindly offered his help with the task. When he came to his final resort, Colin Robinson, the energy vampire simply recited the ‘Web Em Dee’ (whatever the fuck that was) in a monotone voice until Nandor passed out, slumped over in his chair in the lounge of the Fancy Room.
He was jostled by Laszlo, 10 minutes before the ceremony, who currently shook him frantically by the shoulders saying something along the lines of “get up, old chap! It’s time to be wed!”
When Nandor stood up, the sinking, heavy feeling in his stomach only got worse. It was almost like his insides were collapsing in on itself.
He couldn’t put his finger on it.
The music began, and as he made his way to his position at the end of the aisle, as was tradition, he realized that the feeling in his chest wasn’t one of heaviness, it was one of emptiness.
Yes, something was missing, indeed.
Nandor presumed that was just his body’s way of yearning for his lovely Selene, wishing they would be wed already. He was all too happy to oblige what his body commanded of him.
A few minutes later, following the pomp and circumstance (that Nadja and Selene had insisted on) he spotted his lovely bride at the end of the aisle.
She was the picture of grace: a soft and sloping frame, as if her body was carved of marble by a generous hand, certainly generous in the chest Nandor thought. Her thighs were perfectly smooth and wide. Her dress clung to her elegant, steep curves in all the right ways. Nandor felt amorously for her, that was certain.
As she approached the altar, though, and the Badabook (the only being they knew with a marriage license) began the Unholy service, Nandor realized that the heavy feeling remained. In fact, it grew stronger and more devastating as the service dragged on.
Nandor was no longer at his wedding. He was somewhere else in his mind, thinking about the shape of the emptiness in his heart. How it smelled like clean wool, disinfectant and something else--sweet and warm. He thought about how it looked like shimmering dark eyes, filled to the brim with wondrous devotion. How it felt exhilarating and warm and challenging, all at once. How it came in a small little package, with beautiful amber skin and shimmering obsidian curls, small yet powerful, he thought.
Guillermo.
Reality slammed back into him at once. Selene looked worried, but she also seemed to register his hesitance, because there was a tinge of sadness to the look in her eyes.
“Are there any objections to the union of these two souls? Speak now or forever--”
“Stop.” Nandors voice was tame, but it held volume and force as it echoed throughout the house. He took a deep breath.
“My heart is elsewhere,” he announced to the crowd. He could hear Nadja facepalming angrily through the murmuring crowd. She’d worked so hard to put this together, after all.
Turning to Selene with an apologetic look, Nandor said “I can’t worship you in the way you deserve, Selene. You deserve someone with their heart in the right place, who loves everything about you. Including and especially your wonderful breasts.” Nandor flashed an encouraging (and slightly horny) smile at Selene before giving her the thumbs up, and dashing from his very own wedding.
***
Nandor ran from the house, barging through the front door like a bat out of hell. If the clock was right, then Guillermo left the house barely 40 minutes ago. Nandor flew as fast as he could to the nearest bus stop for the Bronx (which he’d recently learned was Guillermo’s mother’s residence). For Guillermo’s small human legs, it would probably take upwards of a 20 minute walk, and those buses were never on time, especially at night. Nandor had a hunch that he might get lucky…
Soon enough, he spotted a small human, bags strewn beside him, bundled up on the bench, wearing a blue beanie that looked exactly like the one Guillermo loved to wear so much.
Guillermo was looking down at his phone. His cheeks were streaked and shiny, cherry red with life. Nandor flew closer, until he landed on the bench right next to him, falling roughly onto the cold metal.
Guillermo shrieked, and within an instant, there was a dagger at Nandor’s throat.
“Shh, it’s just me, Guillermo,” Nandor said softly, placing a hand atop Guillermo’s gloved one.
Guillermo lowered the dagger, “I thought you were supposed to be getting married to the love of your life right now,” Guillermo said icily, his eyes hard.
The air felt colder somehow, and it suddenly began to snow. Fat, gorgeous flakes dotted the sky. A couple landed on Guillermo’s hair, glittering like diamonds atop his regal crown of curls. Nandor was captivated.
“--Well?”
“It’s just that I--” Nandor’s mouth opened and closed like a floundering fish.
“What I mean to say is--”
Guillermo huffed, clearly not wanting to discuss any further, “Nandor, spit it out. I don’t have all night.”
“I thought about your feelings.”
“Oh, fucking hell.” Guillermo breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He sounded so tired for someone so young.
That’s your fault, you big stupid oaf the voice in his head (which sounded like Nadja) retorted.
“I realized that I--” Nandor inhaled, “I need you. Like I’ve never needed anybody else in my eternal life. Not just because you can clean up the house really nicely or dispose of the bodies efficiently. But because--” Nandor paused to think, he looked up at the sky and thought of the times when Guillermo had left him for a place more deserving of his warmth.
“When you’re gone I don’t feel whole. To me, that is love.” Nandor felt like the weight had lifted from his stomach, the emptiness filled.
“Say it,” Guillermo breathed. He still refused to look Nandor in the eye, instead opting to study the lightpost from across the street.
“Wha--?”
“I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you say that you love me.” Guillermo turned to him, then, and his eyes were aflame with, something. An emotion so strong that it could boil the falling snow on contact.
Nandor, to put it lightly, was taken aback, but only in the way that one is taken aback the first time they kiss someone, or the first time they jump off a cliffside into the water below. Nandor, for the first time in his life, was without control. He was floating in the moments between the jump and the impact of water below: complete freefall.
“Guillermo, I love you.”
The human looked taken aback, and his eyes filled with emotions that Nandor couldn’t have predicted: indignance, anger, incredulity. Like he couldn’t believe the things he was hearing.
“What, so I’m just some secondary option now? I’m not that person anymore. I won’t be that person for you anymore.”
“You were always meant to be the first. I was too foolish to realize it until now.”
“Oh yeah, sure--!”
“I need you. I always have.” Nandor insisted, cutting off Guillermo’s impending rant. He righted himself, squaring his shoulders.
“I’m no longer ashamed to say that I rely on you, Guillermo. I would scream it from the top of Circuit City if it means that I could be having you by my side again.”
“You don’t mean that--” Guillermo laughed, an edge of hysteria coloring his voice.
“I made a mistake--”
“Mistakes. Plural.” Guillermo corrected firmly (and smugly, fucking guy).
“Guillermo, I’m trying to relent here!”
Guillermo just grinned at him in response, silently urging him to continue.
Nandor huffed, but continued nonetheless, “I acted rashly to push myself away from you: I hoped you might forgive me.”
There was a sickeningly long beat. A moment in time in which the air had been completely sucked from their surroundings, and all that was left was bated breath and fluttering hearts. Guillermo draws his breath like a warrior draws their sword, wherein lies the moment before their powerful instrument becomes a deadly weapon.
Raise the sword
“I don’t forgive you.”
And strike.
While Nandor is left feeling like all the wind had been knocked straight from his gut, Guillermo takes a centering breath.
“--Yet. Forgiveness takes time.” Guillermo asserted firmly, his voice strong and piercing through the air.
“But--,” Guillermo smiled, his grin turning bright and hopeful and joyful and...lecherous? Nandor was captivated by those glittering dark eyes as hope had found purchase in his chest.
“--You could give me eternity to slowly forgive.”
Nandor’s eyebrows shot up, his smile brightening up as quick as a midsummer dawn.
“Is that a yes--?”
In lieu of a verbal confirmation, Guillermo buries his fists into the upper edges of Nandor’s cape, and with a scary (and sexy) amount of strength for a human, pulls Nandor down to his level.
They’re inches away from each other now, and Nandor can hear Guillermo’s heartbeat with an overwhelming intensity. He feels it within him as if it were his very own. Guillermo’s breath is warm on his face as the smaller human’s eyes flit back and forth from Nandor’s eyes to his lips. Nandor waits, his hands sliding around his waist. Guillermo grins, and surges upward to meet his lips.
It had been years since Guillermo last kissed anybody, but he was tired of waiting for Nandor. The vampire’s hands anchored him firmly in place, so he let himself go. He let himself surrender control, slumping into Nandor’s hold and allowing the taller man to guide their movements. As Guillermo tilted his head to deepen the kiss, Nandor let out a soft noise of approval, his right hand squeezing his hip.
Meanwhile, his left hand scrambled to find purchase with the hair at the base of Guillermo’s neck. Burying his blunted fingers into the nape of his neck elicited a gasp from the smaller man, and Nandor took the opportunity to lick briefly into his mouth. Guillermo squeaked, leaning away from Nandor to inhale shakily, while Nandor looked at him like he forgot humans needed to breathe (he did). Guillermo looked positively debauched: he was blushing down to his neck, pupils blown, and his hair was completely mussed, beanie long forgotten.
By now, there were others waiting for the bus stop, but this was New York City: none of them even bat an eye at their amorous display (they’d all seen stranger things than just two men in love). Guillermo beamed at Nandor, and began to laugh; full bellied and joyous. Nandor grinned nervously, unbeknownst to what his human laughed at, yet completely content to see him happy all the same.
“Why do you do the laughing, Guillermo?” Nandor asked nervously.
He came down from his laughing fit, wiping his eyes and smiling like the fool he was.
“I can’t believe I fell for someone who needed to marry someone else to realize he was in love with me,” Guillermo sighed, rubbing his face, “what have I gotten myself into?”
Nandor squeezed his hip again, fangs poking out from his giddy grin, “Eternity, that’s what.”