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The first thing Phil registered was that his head was fucking pounding. He could feel his pulse in his bones, he could hear his heartbeat in his jaw. The second thing he became aware of were three shadows looming over him, frantic energy permeating through the figures. The third thing that came through were the sighs of relief as his eyelids began to twitch and flutter before slowly blinking open, even though it was against Phil’s first instinct to keep them shut and block out the glaring sun. Phil groaned and pressed his palm to his face.
“What happened?” Phil croaked.
“Oh sweet fucking hell, Phil, you gave us a fright!” PJ was chuckling with relief as he said it, hands rested on his knees as he bent over.
“We thought you were comatose! This wasn’t the time for a fucking nap, mate,” Chris chastised, though the look on his face looked more relieved than annoyed.
“What happened to me, you fucking—” Phil’s eyes shot open as he felt a burst of cold air into his mouth. That doesn’t usually happen ... does it? Phil thought. Something didn’t feel right. Immediately, Phil’s hand flew to his mouth, feeling around his upper row of teeth only to find a small gap...where both his front teeth were chipped half off.
“What the f—” Phil felt himself yelp as he inhaled another sharp burst of air. Sitting up propped on his elbow he began to investigate further. There was no blood, which was a relief. But that only softened the blow of losing practically both of his fucking front teeth.
“You got a strike right to the face, Philly,” Anthony was kneeling beside him, but keeping his distance. “Close contact, too, you tripped going in for a steal and instead ended up with, well,” Anthony trailed off, his brows furrowed in sympathy while his mouth betrayed him by quirking up in a struggling-to-be-repressed smile.
“Big ol’ ball in your face, which you usually don’t mind, eh Philly?” PJ crouched down to Anthony’s level, reaching out to Phil and tousling his hair with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“Which one of you f—, which one of you did this?” Phil self-consciously kept his hand hovering over his mouth, not pressing down but shielding it from the eyes of his friends. He could only imagine how fucking ridiculous he looked right now, puffy eyed and toothless.
“Erm, that would be—” Anthony started.
“It was me, of course,” PJ shrugged carelessly. “Better my balls than Anthony’s, innit?” PJ chortled at his own joke. Anthony bit his lips in a show of strength, refraining from breaking his resolve.
If Phil was being honest, it probably was better that it was PJ than Anthony; Anthony’s kicks were far more powerful and far less forgiving, he probably would’ve kicked straight through Phil’s skull, or detached his head from his body altogether.
“It was just an accident, you know that right? I’d never do this, like, on purpose,” PJ scrambled at Phil’s long silence, backtracking and dropping into a more serious tone of voice.
Phil winced as he sat up more fully, scrunching his eyes at the steady thump thump thump happening between his ears.
“I know that, Peej. If you wanted me dead I’d be long gone by now,” Phil briefly smirked in PJ’s direction, simply to let him know there were no hard feelings. Endless blackmail? Absolutely; Phil would never climb the six flights up stairs up to his and PJ’s shared flat ever again. Friendship resignation? Not even close, they’d definitely been through worse, being friends with PJ for half a decade made sure of that.
PJ returned a soft smile, an honest one.
“I’m glad you’re alright, mate,” PJ started. “Chris was about to start calling your family and delivering the bad news: Philly’s dead, ball to the face, no Mrs. Lester, not those kind of balls!” PJ chuckled with Anthony, Phil felt himself crack a half smile while rolling his eyes half-heartedly.
“Laugh it up, PJ, but I was the only one remotely prepared for the worst.” Chris had his arms crossed, nodding emphatically.
“Philly’s a fighter, Chrissy. He’s not going down that easy, are ya babes?” Anthony teased, reaching out to lightly punch Phil’s shoulder.
“Seems to me like you underestimate PJ's balls, which I for one find surprising considering your familiarity with—” Chris was cut off by Anthony reaching over Phil and swatting Chris in the balls. Chris lurched forward, clutching at his crotch and groaning unpleasantly.
“I hope this doesn't taint my ball handling reputation on Grindr,” Phil giggled at his own joke, PJ also dissolving into giggles. "Let's promise you'll never invite me to play football again, yeah?" Anthony reached out a hand to help Phil to his feet, clapping him on the shoulder affectionately.
"Will do, Philly. How about a sweet treat and an ice pack?" Anthony squeezed his shoulder.
"It's like you read my mind, Anny," Phil replied with his toothless grin.
Phil stood on his tiptoes as he leaned closer to the mirror over the bathroom sink, getting a good look at his toothless state.
“I can’t go to work like this, I’ll scare away customers,” Phil groaned before dropping his heels back to the floor.
“As if chipped teeth are the reason for that, Philly,” PJ commented as he breezed past the open bathroom door towards the kitchen.
“Think you’re so fucking funny, Peej,” Phil muttered.
“S’cause I am,” PJ sing-songed as he made his way back to his room.
“What am I supposed to do? I have videos to film this month, I can’t record looking like this.” Phil furrowed his brows and felt his lower lip jut out, a very well rehearsed pout.
“If the video is a skit about a ‘grouchy, worse-for-wear villager’ I think you’ll do just fine,” PJ chuckled, making another length to the kitchen.
“I’m serious, PJ, I can’t afford to get these fixed,” Phil felt the weight of the situation resting on his shoulders. His student debt was enough of a financial burden, on top of rent, and groceries, and his phone bill; baristas only made so much, and YouTube was not a steady or lucrative enough source of income yet; he was barely staying afloat as it was, he couldn’t afford to dig into his nonexistent pockets to shell out enough for new teeth.
“I—” PJ hesitated in the doorway, drumming his fingers on the doorframe. “I might be able to help you out,” PJ drawled, a slight downturn to his lips.
“What do you mean?” Phil turned to face him more fully, cocking his hip and resting it on the bathroom counter.
“I have a friend,” PJ started slowly. “He’s...well, he’s technically a dentist, like, technically speaking,” PJ fumbled, his words drawn out and calculated.
“I'm not loving your use of the word 'technically' here, Peej.” Phil crossed his arms, fixing PJ with a suspicious stare.
“Well, like, he is a dentist. He just...doesn’t run, like, a proper business. He works from home.” PJ avoided Phil’s eyes as he spoke. Phil stared at him blankly.
“A dentist...who...works...from home?” Phil’s eyebrows inched towards his hairline as he spoke.
“It’s...it sounds more sketchy than it is,” PJ replied, scratching the back of his neck. “He runs like, a free clinic. Does all sorts of procedures, no fee. Only does it through referrals, though.” PJ shrugged.
“What’s the catch then?” Phil raised a suspicious brow, meeting PJ’s gaze in the mirror.
“Catch?”
“Yes, the ‘catch’. Does he cut out your organs and sell them on the black market? Does he, like, have his way with you? Is he the fucking tooth fairy, what is it PJ?” Phil threw his hands up in mild exasperation. A free clinic sounded too good to be true, and PJ knew that. But PJ was also a good friend, the odds of him leading Phil astray were slim.
PJ snorted, covering his face with his hand.
“Well, th-there’s this one thing…” PJ paused, exhaling sharply. “He—it’s...it’s unimportant. The important thing is that it’s free and I feel like I owe you, because I did this to you,” PJ reasoned, apologetically. “All I ask is that you keep it quiet, this isn’t the sort of thing you can go yapping about on YouTube,” PJ sighed, shuffling his feet.
“Now, do you want your teeth fixed or not? He doesn’t just do this kind of stuff for anyone,” PJ inquired with a sense of finality, take it or leave it, Philly.
Phil sighed heavily, wiping at his face with both hands.
“What’s his number?”
When he’d tried to call Dr. Howell and make an appointment, the phone went directly to voicemail. Maybe he’s with a patient, Phil had assumed. So he left a standard message, and anticipated having to wait at least a few hours before he heard back. Almost as soon as he’d hung up a text message came through from Dr. Howell himself:
Hello, I’m Dr. D. J. Howell. May I inquire who referred you?
Phil’s eyes widened. How did he reply so fast?
Hi, I’m Phil Lester. PJ Liguori referred me?
Phil barely had to wait a moment before another message came through.
Liguori, excellent. And you understand the terms of our arrangement?
Phil squinted his eyes. I don’t know, do I? What he replied instead was:
I believe so. There’s no cost to me, correct?
No money will change hands, no.
What a weirdo, Phil thought, who says shit like that anymore?
Alright, do you have any appointments available tomorrow?
I’m available right now, if that suits you.
Phil blinked at his phone, a bit perplexed by the last-minute offer. He still had four more hours of his shift left, the sun already fading into a rosy, golden glow. By the time he was finished it would be well past normal business hours.
I’m afraid not, I’m working until 10pm. Is there another appointment available tomorrow, maybe something in the morning?
I assume that is some kind of joke. I do not do morning appointments.
Phil scrunched his brows and his nose. Is this guy for real? Before he could meditate on that for too long, another message came through.
If it suits you, later this evening would work just fine for me. Our exchange should be rather quick and then you will be free to go.
Phil recoiled, scrolling through his contacts and pressing ‘call’.
“He wants to meet me at 10 pm. What the fuck, Peej?” Phil was incredulous. PJ simply laughed.
“Did I forget to mention he’s a total, erm, night owl? It’s fine, mate, that’s pretty standard for him,” PJ chuckled. Phil glared at the clock in front of him.
“If I end up diced up in a body bag somewhere, let it be know that this was your fault,” Phil declared.
“All that YouTube fame has really gone to your head, diva. The dramatics,” PJ giggled before hanging up.
So, that was how Phil found himself standing outside an unassuming terrace house at nearly 11pm. For a dentist appointment. The flat directly in the middle of the cluster of homes had a small golden plaque affixed to it the door: D. J. Howell. Phil stared at the sign perhaps longer than was necessary. The whole idea of a free dental clinic run out of a flat in West London was still off-putting. It didn’t make any sense, and yet here he was, two teeth nubs and empty pockets.
Phil shook his head to himself, climbing the stairs without giving himself another chance to sprint all the way home. He raised his fist to knock gently on the wooden door, but before he could even get the first knock in, the door swung open.
Phil’s eyes widened with shock. Standing before him was a man around the same height as him but broader, his entire posture giving him an air of grandiosity. His hair was meticulously flattened in a sharp, angular fringe, nearly concealing his deep, molten chocolate eyes. He blinked slowly at Phil while he stared on, eyes flitting over each of his pronounced features; from the firm set of his jaw, the gentle lilt of his cupid’s bow, to the soft flutter of his lashes. It definitely took all of Phil’s strength not to linger on the man’s supple, rosy lips.
“Hello, you must be Mr. Lester, I’m Dr. Howell,” Dr. Howell extended his hand to Phil, his very large hand with very long fingers, Phil noted.
“Call me Phil, please,” Phil practically whispered, surprised at the tightness of his voice. Dr. Howell had quite nearly taken his breath away.
“I extend the same offer to you; please, call me Daniel.” Dr. Howell, Daniel, released Phil’s hand, stepping back and offering a wide berth for him to enter the flat.
Phil looked around the place, nervously looking out for anything off-putting. The front room was a clearly a living room, it had a strange collection of furniture designed after varying centuries and decades throughout history. Along the largest wall, mounted above a marble fireplace, there were three medium-sized portrait photos that looked like they were ancient.
“Is that supposed to be you?” Phil pointed to one of the portraits, it was of a boy who looked similar to the man standing in front of him, however his hair was cropped shorter and his face looked slightly younger, a little rounder in the cheeks.
“Yes, we had them done when I was fourteen,” Daniel replied, a small tilt to his lips as he examined the paintings alongside Phil. “It was my gift from my grandmother, she was quite pleased.” Daniel fixed his hands behind his back before turning slightly to the left and beginning down a hallway. Phil blinked in surprise, the portraits couldn’t be from this century, let alone the past decade.
“This way, if you will,” Daniel spoke off-handedly.
Phil couldn’t help but linger at the paintings for a moment longer, catching a glance at the plaque fixed to the bottom of Daniel’s portrait: Daniel J. Howell, 1864. 1864? That...can’t be right . Phil was about to inquire about the strange caption—maybe it’s a house number? Or a secret code?—but as he turned to ask, he noticed Daniel had disappeared down the hallway. Swallowing his question, Phil scurried after him.
Down the hallway, Phil found a door ajar; he could hear Daniel shuffling things around before he could see him. Entering the room cautiously, Phil took a moment to let his eyes scan everything in the vicinity, checking for any immediate red flags. Finding none, Phil allowed himself to examine the setup of what he supposed was Daniel’s work space.
It was a clean room, which was comforting. The walls were a deep maroon colour, nicely complementing the cherry moulding and floorboards. Off to one side was a desk with various tools and supplies: rubber gloves, tongue depressors, a mouth mirror, drill heads, cotton balls. Beside it, a portable IV drip hung, the silver rod glinting in the warm lighting. Adjacent to the desk there was a sink with an array of soaps and sanitizers lining the rim. It all seemed pretty standard. The dentist chair, however, was rather intimidating in its own right.
It was made of a shiny black leather, despite the fact it was draped in a white disposable sheet. It was fixed to the ground with large silver bolts, an adjustable magnifying glass affixed to the head of the seat. And then, attached to the arm rests, in a thick, brown leather and suede, were wrist restraints. Phil swallowed thickly, attempting to not show his apprehension on his face.
“Please, make yourself comfortable, Phil,” Daniel gestured to the seat. Phil clenched and unclenched his fingers, trying to stop them from shaking. Phil hastily shuffled himself to the chair, nervously sliding into the seat, making sure to keep his hands in his lap.
Phil fidgeted uneasily as Daniel washed and dried his hands before snapping on a pair of black rubber gloves.
“Alright, Phil, I’m going to administer the general anaesthetic now,” Daniel began to wheel over the IV drip as the colour drained from Phil’s face.
“W-what do we need that for? Just some moulds, innit? For the crowns? Right?” Phil felt himself break out into a light sweat, his fingers squirming with his own grip.
“I—” Daniel paused, furrowing his brows in a way that was unfairly endearing. Phil felt himself choke back a small smile at it. “I mean, yes, of course, we will do your moulds. But I suppose I just assumed—” Daniel cut himself off again, removing the rubber gloves with a satisfying snap. “Are you sure?” Daniel fixed his gaze on Phil’s eyes and Phil felt his heartbeat quicken further at the steady, direct eye contact.
“I’m sure, no needles, please,” Phil mumbled. Daniel blinked again, his mouth opening as if he was going to speak, closing just as quickly. Daniel pushed the IV back to the corner before tossing his rubber gloves into the trash bin and seating himself on his wheeled stool.
“Alright, I'll try to be quick.” Daniel flicked his hair back, the longer strands brushed off his forehead and into a casual half-quiff. “But, if it’s not too much of an intrusion, I think it would be safer if I restrained your hands.”
Phil felt himself inhale sharply and audibly, his whole body shuddering and jolting at Daniel’s words. Phil felt tears well up in his eyes. Daniel’s chair squeaked as he wheeled closer to Phil, his eyes earnest.
“I promise, I will not hurt you. I just feel, if you would rather not be unconscious, that it might be safer for you if you’re restrained. Everyone reacts differently, and I would hate for you to hurt yourself by losing control,” Daniel spoke calmly and softly, there was no urgency in his tone, no underlying malice, he sounded genuine and honest, and at that Phil relaxed a bit.
“Have people injured themselves when you’ve done this before? Injured you?” Phil let his hands fall apart, but kept them in his lap. How many tooth mouldings would have to go wrong for a dentist to prefer his patients unconscious or restrained?
Daniel laughed lightly, the sound ringing like the practiced pluck of harp strings.
“No, I myself have not been injured, but some people...well, they flail or jolt at the first contact, and if they aren’t careful, it can be…” Daniel rocked his head back and forth, searching for the right word. “Messy.” Phil felt his pupils dilate as Daniel locked eyes with him once again, his smirk sending an intriguing shiver down Phil's spine. There was a moment of thick silence, both men watching each other closely, eyes held steady, nothing but the sound of a clock ticking in the distance.
“O-okay,” Phil agreed, shakily placing his arms on the arm rests, his fists clenched firmly, nails digging into his clammy palms.
“Please, relax your hands, it will make it more comfortable for you,” Daniel reassured, laying his ridiculously large hand over top Phil’s own. Phil suddenly noticed how cold Daniel's hands were, his skin glacial and glassy smooth. Yet despite this, Phil felt a rush of warmth travel through his body, his cheeks flushing a deep pink, his fists relaxing almost on their own accord.
Once his hands were both carefully draped on the rests, Daniel began to nimbly fasten the straps. Wiggling his fingers timidly, Phil felt his pulse thrum as he watched Daniel fasten the restraints with such graceful care, his chilled thumbs occasionally brushing across Phil’s knuckles as a gesture of comfort. Despite barely knowing him at all, Phil felt a strange kind of trust in Daniel, one that Daniel seemed fixated on fostering through kindness and soft reassurances.
Once the chunky buckles were fastened, Daniel ran his finger experimentally around the edges of the leather, ensuring a hair of wiggle room remained, most likely to quell Phil’s own nerves.
“Now, if you’ll just tilt your head like this, please.” With his thumb and forefinger lightly guiding Phil’s chin, Daniel tilted his head up and slightly to the side. Phil felt his eyelashes flutter involuntarily. “Wonderful, just like that.” As quickly as the light touch had appeared, it disappeared just as fast. Phil let his eyes slide shut; he could feel Daniel’s breath on his cheek, his ear, slowly migrating to his neck.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Phil couldn’t help the way his cock twitched, his brain running wild with Daniel's supple lips so close to his skin, making his senses tingle with want. But this couldn’t really be happening, it was too good to be true, a fever dream from the most romantic-novel-esque recesses of Phil’s imagination. Hot doctors never actually kissed you, that was far too unrealistic. Unprofessional, really. Still, it didn't erase the fantasy from bubbling up in Phil's mind.
“Shh, just breathe. Let me...relax you first,” Daniel murmured. “It'll make it easier.” Daniel began a series of gentle ministrations, light nips, licks, and nibbles on the thin skin of Phil's neck. Phil's lips parted, releasing an involuntary sigh, his shoulders slumping in bliss. This is unreal. Is this really happening? He felt Daniel's lips twitch into a smile against his skin, his hand coming up to cradle Phil's neck lightly. Phil's breathing quickened further still, his stomach twisting pleasantly at the small embrace.
The pecks and licks increased in intensity then, Daniel's tongue lapping at his skin like he was savouring the taste. The kisses lingered, his lips creating tender suction at the hollow of his throat. Phil inhaled sharply, a whine slipping out as Daniel laved into the crook of his neck and shoulder. Daniel groaned, rumbly and deep, sending subtle vibrations across Phil's chest. Phil moaned openly at the sensation, his hips canting up into the air in search of something, anything, to relieve the pressure growing between his legs.
“Do you always treat your patients with such care?” Phil asked breathlessly, his voice coming out thin and wanton. Daniel chuckled low in his chest, the sound getting pressed straight into the column of Phil's throat.
“Only the pretty ones.” Phil felt Daniel’s lips, delicate and cool, as they traced across his neck, back to skating lightly across his skin. Phil couldn’t resist the high, shaky moan that he let out. “And you, dear Phil, are very pretty.”
Before Phil could say anything else, he felt Daniel’s lips settle directly over his pulse. His tongue traced the spot with careful lightness, almost as if he was marking the spot.
“Your skin tastes lovely,” Daniel began, and Phil let out an even less inhibited moan, the sound still quiet in the already silent room. “I can only imagine,” Daniel continued, Phil felt himself arching up into Daniel’s slow moving mouth. “That your blood tastes even better.” And then he bit.
Phil let out a blood-curdling scream.
His hands immediately began flailing, his throat burning as he screeched in both pleasure and agony and abject horror. Almost as immediately as Daniel’s teeth sunk in, he pulled back, aghast and paler than before.
“Are you alright?” Daniel’s eyes were doe-wide, his lips a deeper shade, wet and shiny with Phil’s blood.
Phil could only scream again, kicking and yanking at his arms, unable to find the words to speak.
Daniel looked panicked, he quickly stood and retrieved a small piece of gauze and held it to Phil’s neck. Phil lurched away, squirming and thrashing his neck back and forth.
“What the fuck was that! You fucking bastard, let me go! What the fuck was that? Who are you? Don’t fucking touch me, get away from me!” Phil spat the words at Daniel, trying his best from his constricted position to get as far from him as possible.
“I-I’m so sorry!” Daniel shouted, trying to speak over Phil. “I-I just, I thought you knew! I thought, I-I thought you understood what was happening! I’m so sorry, I would never, I never, I—” Daniel cut himself off as Phil started thrashing more violently.
“Let me go! Let me go, let me go let me g—” Phil words were muffled as Daniel forced a hand over his mouth. It only made Phil scream louder.
“P-please, Phil, Phil please stop screaming, you’ll wake the neighbour's child, she’s only an infant, please,” Daniel pleaded, his eyes blinking softly, a direct contrast of his grip on Phil's mouth. “Please let me explain myself, please.” Daniel looked so shocked, his facial expression one of absolute anguish and shame.
Phil stopped his screaming, not simply because Daniel asked him to, but because he was beginning to feel lightheaded; passing out was not an option right now. Phil’s lungs heaved as he cut off his screaming.
Waiting a beat for silence on Phil’s end, Daniel removed his hand and sat down on his stool once again.
“Phil, please, understand that I am full of regret. I had no idea you didn’t know what was to happen tonight, I thought you were aware of my...state of being,” Daniel began, ever composed and civilized. Phil wanted to scream again, but refrained.
“I’m a vampire, Phil, and I feed off of my patients. I...I should’ve confirmed your understanding before this all happened, I’m truly so sorry that it got this far. Please just, please know I would’ve never, ever, done any of this if I hadn’t be confident that you were aware, that it was a consensual agreement.” Daniel’s eyes—his imploring, umber eyes—were so earnest and so full of remorse, Phil found himself feeling sympath—Wait what?
“Vampire?!” Phil shrieked incredulously.
“I—yes, yes I am a vampire. I was turned in 1874, shortly before my twenty-fifth birthday,” Daniel explained. “I was in medical school, studying dentistry. I fell very ill before I was able to graduate, but I was given a second chance, a chance at immortality, and I took it. I’ve been living dead ever since,” Daniel finished simply, licking his lips to clear any remaining blood from his mouth.
“Y-you—” Phil couldn’t find the words. How could he possible respond to that? “I don’t believe you.” Phil settled on.
“I...am afraid, you’re not in a position to disbelieve me, Phil.” Daniel remained collected, though the slight upturn of his lips betrayed him.
“You’re not even a dentist,” Phil accused. “What were you planning on doing? Feasting and throwing me out, dazed and drained? Was that your plan all along? Free clinic, my fucking ass,” Phil spat the words at him, anger swooping in to replace the confusion.
“No, I am, I promise!” Daniel pointed over his shoulder, gesturing to the collection of degrees hanging on the wall that Phil had seemingly overlooked. “I’ve received my medical degree, several times over. I go back to university every now and again to upgrade my skills, learn the new technology. Things have changed so much, but I always make sure to stay up to date as best I can,” Daniel explained.
Phil was at a loss. What was there to say? Where did they go from here? How did Phil go on living his life, knowing he was almost a meal for a one hundred and seventy year old vampire?
“Phil, listen, I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. I wish there was a way I could take it all back, but alas, I cannot. Please, I ask for your forgiveness.” Daniel reached out and rested his hands gingerly over Phil’s, his touch hesitant. “I would never intentionally hurt you, or anyone,” Daniel spoke solemnly, his voice even and his gaze open and sincere.
It was strange, despite what had happened, Phil felt inclined to believe him. Daniel's face was so forlorn, Phil honestly couldn't really picture this kicked puppy of a man hurting anyone, intentionally or otherwise. Phil studied his face for a moment more, replaying the whole day's events with this new perspective. All of the clues he'd brushed aside: The overly-formal language, the eclectic furnishings, the portraits, the coolness of his touch, no morning appointments. It was all so clear now in retrospect, he almost felt a bit stupid for not putting things together a lot sooner. If Daniel really was telling the truth, and he really did think Phil was in on his secret, it made sense that he didn't seem put off by Phil's curiosity and apprehension. Who wouldn't be a bit wound up for their first appointment with a literal vampire? Phil sighed, shaking his head in disbelief at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. Of course something like this would happen to him.
“Daniel I—” Phil stopped himself, what was he supposed to say? Aw cheers, no hard feelings mate! No big deal, now if you’d just let me free I’ll be on my way! “I accept your apology,” Phil stated, pausing. “I blame PJ, for everything.” That pulled an honest laugh from Daniel, the sound filling up the quiet of the room with its timbre.
“I would have to agree that this is mostly his fault,” Daniel agreed. “But I do also share that blame, for I never thought to ask,” Daniel pursed his lips, weighing his words before he spoke. “Though I have to say, I’m quite pleased he sent you to me,” Daniel lowered his eyes, his face suddenly bashful. “I meant what I said, you’re very pretty. Handsome, if you prefer. I find you very beautiful,” Daniel said the last part of his statement while looking directly into Phil’s eyes again. Phil felt his face redden yet again, his cock—still half-hard—pathetically twitching at the compliment. How he was still even remotely aroused was beyond anything his brain could comprehend.
“Could you, um, unstrap me please?” Phil phrased his question tentatively. Daniel’s eyes widened in alarm; if they could, Phil’s sure Daniel’s cheeks would also be flushed.
“Oh! Oh my, yes, yes of course, I’m sorry, again I—”
“You can stop apologizing. It was a misunderstanding, it happens,” Phil replied as Daniel hastily unbuckled his wrists with practiced ease. Phil rubbed over his wrists, studying the slight redness from where he yanked and thrashed against the leather, his brain readapting to his mobile freedom.
“I hope my…boldness has not made you uncomfortable once more,” Daniel spoke bashfully, resting his own hands in his lap.
“No, not at all. Um, thank you, for the—the compliments,” Phil replied somewhat awkwardly, scrunching his face at his lack of eloquence. “I also find you, er, pretty.” Phil avoided eye contact, wringing his hands together. “But I’m sure you know that, you must get that a lot, I’m sorry that was silly I—” Phil was cut off by Daniel’s fingers tracing his jawline.
“If we may start over?” Daniel was smiling, his fangs on full display. Phil's eyes marvelled at the way they glinted in the ambient light. “Hello, my name is Dr. Daniel James Howell, I am 176 years old, and I am a vampire. I find you very beautiful, may I kiss you?” Daniel allowed his thumb to trace Phil’s cheekbone reverently. Phil felt the air leave his lungs once again, rendered breathless by Daniel’s straightforward eloquence, his mouth suddenly dry and his heart a steady thud in his ribcage.
“Hello, I’m Phil Lester, I’m 26 years old and I have terrible friends, please kiss me.” And so he did.
They met in the middle in a placid kiss, a simple press of lips, moving together, and acquainting with each other. Phil slid his hand to Daniel’s shoulder, holding him near, while his other hand wound into Daniel’s hair, tangling into the strands at the back of his neck.
Their lips parted with a quiet pop as Phil pulled back slightly.
“Do you always treat your patients with such care?” Phil echoed his earlier words again, almost as a tease but also as a true inquiry for his own sake.
“Never. Only the prettiest ones. Only you, just you,” Daniel murmured, his eyes slightly hooded but focused on meeting Phil’s stare.
Breathing slowly, Phil leaned back in more firmly, pressing his lips with purpose, his tongue curling at the seam of Daniel’s lips, gently prying and searching. Phil felt his skin prickle as his tongue traced one of Daniel’s fangs.
“Do you like them as much as your body is telling me you do?” Daniel breathed into the scarce space between them. Phil shivered.
“Is it that obvious?” Phil would’ve been embarrassed, had he not been so caught up in the feeling of Daniel’s hand sliding onto and up his thigh. “Y’know, we might’ve gotten to this point sooner if you’d just asked,” Phil taunted, tracing his lips and tongue over Daniel’s jawbone and neck. Daniel moaned and Phil relished in the feeling of the sound beneath his lips.
“I’ll ask now: Phil, may I feed off you?” Daniel exhaled the words lowly into Phil’s ear. Phil felt chills race up his spine, the mix of fear and arousal swirling around his belly.
“Yes,” Phil exhaled as Daniel’s fangs sank in. This time, without a scream, rather with a whimper.