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Jon couldn’t take a vampire down by force and stake it like Tim, he couldn’t meticulously organize and manage their team like Sasha, he couldn’t be friendly and inconspicuous enough to gather information from people like Martin. He’d researched vampires for most of his life, ever since one had nearly bitten him as a child, but that information became redundant once he’d taught everything he knew about vampires to the others. He wasn't exactly useful in the field. He usually stayed behind and was only contacted for cross checking research.
But the powerful, ancient Elias Bouchard wanted him. Everyone thought so. And that made Jon the ideal person to use as bait. A bright white shirt with the collar unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up, tucked into form-fitting black slacks, no shoes, and his hair tied up to keep his neck exposed; he’s ready to go.
He snuck out of the researchers’ dormitory. Everyone else was asleep, but Jon knew that it was far too dangerous to sleep when it’s dark. The vampire was last spotted in the graveyard, where a groundskeeper’s severely dehydrated corpse was also found. There had been other missing persons cases around London, and other bodies. Each one added another weight to Jon’s shoulders.
The weight pushed him forward along the old stone pathway, winding uphill towards the cemetery. It was cold, and leaving the city behind it only got darker and quieter. Distantly, he heard the braying of wolves. Halfway up the hill he started shivering, and wrapped his arms around himself.
At the top of the hill, there was a broad stone bench which overlooked the graves and the edges of London. Jon placed himself upon it and tried to lean back and look more relaxed than he felt.
Fog gently rolled over the tombstones, wispy and translucent before it began to collect and move together in a direction towards Jon. He held himself still, gripping the edge of the bench tightly and forcing himself to breathe. It tumbled together in front of him, moonlight reflecting strangely on the miniscule water droplets. Two glowing, shimmering red eyes began to look at him. The fog coalesced into the shape of a man, dark and solid, and a thin, pale face appeared around his red eyes. Freshly formed red lips stretched into a smile.
“Hello, Jonathan.”
Jon nodded stiffly, “Elias.”
“I’m glad you’ve come to me, Jon,” Elias said, drifting closer, his footwear becoming corporeal and tapping against the ground. “My journey was so dreadfully lonely without you. Did you have any difficulties going back to London?”
“Not once I was on my way,” Jon said, remembering all of Elias's efforts to prevent him from getting out. He wasn’t impressed by Elias’s passive-aggression. He tried to have Jon locked away forever in his far-off vampiric nest, until Jon tried something desperate enough to get out and onto the nearest train away.
Elias smiled, reaching out and tracing his cool fingers down the side of Jon’s face, along his neck, and across his tensed shoulder. ”Good. Do you know why I brought you here tonight?”
Jon leaned back and echoed, “Brought me here? I– I came here searching for you.”
“Oh? To do what, I wonder?”
“To confirm it wasn’t some other vampire terrorizing London,” Jon frowned. “What are you doing here?”
“You don’t think I came here just for you?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Interesting.” The vampire leaned in closer, leaving Jon no room to move away. “How did you know to meet me here, I wonder? Dressed so… revealingly.” He smoothed his hand across the collar of his shirt, pulling it further open.
“You were sighted in the area!” Jon protested. His breath came faster as icy hands touched his chest.
“Mmm. And what was your plan, once you had me?”
Jon’s mind ground to an abrupt halt. His plan was surely to collect evidence that it was really Elias, or otherwise to attempt to kill him. He hadn’t planned on being bitten, he’d… he was just wearing his hair up and his collar open to ensure that Elias noticed him and got within arms reach. And then he was going to– His eyes widened when he finally realized he hadn’t brought any weapons, and he hadn’t told anyone where he was going. Obsession was clouding his mind, but suddenly he could see clearly.
He tried to jerk away but found that he couldn’t. Now that he struggled against it, a thousand tiny threads kept him firmly still and pliant in Elias’s hold. He kept fighting anyway, for all that it amounted to, as impossible as trying to push his heart out of his chest. Elias brushed a hand over his forehead.
“Shhh, shhh, my sweet. You can remember, now.” His bright red eyes bored into Jon’s, drawing him in until his pupils seemed to merge together, and Jon could only see the red light. He saw fragments of things he thought he’d dreamed; scenes of intimacy, blood, and obedience, all centered with Elias, things he thought were only part of his subconscious. Things he hoped were just nightmares.
Elias kept murmuring to him, running his hands over Jon’s skin and through his hair, somehow chasing the chill of the air away. “We’ve done this before. You don’t like to remember. But you know it only hurts if you resist it, if you don’t follow orders.”
He hadn’t felt the invisible tug towards the cemetery when he’d thought it was his own idea, he hadn’t felt the invisible pressure holding him down on the bench when he wasn’t trying to stand up and run. He hadn’t felt trapped within his own body until he tried leaning away from Elias’s hands instead of further into them. He had felt this tidal wave of fear before, every time Elias let him remember. If he could move, he thought he'd just collapse in fright.
The vampire crept around to lean over the back of the bench behind Jon. He slid his hands down, smoothing over his ribcage down to his stomach. Jon twitched and shuddered under him, but still couldn’t get his muscles to respond the way he wanted them to. His traitorous body only chased after every touch.
Jon belatedly remembered he could still speak. If he could keep him talking, and not biting– "S–so you are here for me?"
"I'm here for the London you promised me. It's exactly as you described it, beauties, imperfections, and all. I'm settling in quite nicely. Soon I'll have to decide what I'm going to do with you, now that things regrettably must be different." He brushed through Jon's long black hair, pressing his face into it lovingly. Jon couldn't move. His skin crawled. "I wouldn't want to stop tasting you. I've been holding myself back enough tonight as it is."
Elias was showing restraint, according to a stray thought in Jon's head which said that he usually didn't talk this much before digging in. The implication was concerning. He asked, shaking as much as he was allowed to, “How many times have you done this to me?”
“Not nearly enough,” Elias said next to his ear, tickling the back of his neck. His palm pressed against Jon’s chest, over his heart. “You can relax now, precious thing.”
A pleasant and warm feeling swept over him, and he melted back into Elias's embrace. His hands stroked at Jon encouragingly. “Good, now tilt your head to the side. Chin up.”
He obeyed like he’d been waiting for that order, he was lost in the desert and Elias had water and for that he loved Elias. His eagerness to submit to this hell’s spawn of a monster made his stomach churn, hardly noticeable under the warm glow Elias cast over him. He bared his neck, closing his eyes in compliance, and Elias first kissed him very gently underneath his jaw. Jon squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. Elias' fingers replaced his lips, tapping his chin up and holding him steady, other hand resting on Jon’s sternum.
There was a moment where Jon only felt his warm breath on his neck, a tiny warning right before Elias plunged his teeth in. It was like he could feel every micro-thin layer of skin as it was pierced through in slow motion, when the fangs broke through the outer wall of his artery and met blood.
Jon whimpered and his hands reflexively jumped to grab at the arm across his chest, holding onto the old woven sleeve of his jacket. Elias groaned and dug in deeper, clutching him tighter. Waves of sensation crashed over him while Elias lapped and pulled his blood in unnatural directions. He could hear it rushing in his ears, spots appeared in his vision, and the only thing keeping him from floating away entirely were Elias’s tongue and lips and fangs and where they made contact. This had definitely happened before, Jon could almost remember… but he was fading away…
A far off cry: “Jon! Jooooon! Where are you?!”
Elias startled and tore his teeth away from Jon’s neck. The abrupt motion tore at his skin more, and a chill settled over Jon’s entire body. Elias was growling next to his ear, fangs bared.
“Drat,” he hissed. He stood from where he was bent over and used a cloth to wipe Jon’s neck clean, then tucked it into his pocket. He carded through Jon’s hair, looking down at him ruefully, and then guided Jon to lie down on the bench and lean his head against the armrest. Elias came back down to kiss the top of his head, and said quietly, “I’m sorry, Jon, that we didn’t have near enough time together. I’ve missed you so much, truly. Now, dear, drift off to sleep and remember this all as a dream. Tell no one.”
Jon’s eyes slipped closed. From the bottom of a deep well he heard a deep, mournful sigh, then one last order: “Keep your bedroom window unlatched.” His conscious mind forgot it immediately.
~
Martin found him asleep at the cemetery, barefoot, hair a mess, shirt unbuttoned, shivering. He quickly threw his cloak over his back, then started buttoning up his shirt as Jon woke up, bolting upright and gasping for air. His muddled mind took a second to recognize Martin, then he lunged towards him and seized his hand. He looked so worried.
“Are you alright, Jon?” Martin asked, probably not for the first time. Jon blinked, then nodded at him, and some of the tension left Martin’s face. He went to fasten the buttons of his collar and paused suspiciously. “What happened?”
Jon put a hand to his neck, which stung, he realized. “I… I don’t know. I’ve been asleep.” He felt exhausted, despite that fact, and he couldn’t remember why he was out in the graveyard. He wrapped the cloak tighter around himself, blocking out the cold breeze.
“You were mumbling to yourself, saying 'Keep talking' over and over. Does that mean anything, to you?" Jon shook his head, just as lost as Martin. "Have you ever sleepwalked before?” Martin asked, bending down to untie his boots.
“I don’t think so,” Jon answered. “I suppose I wouldn’t know if I had.”
“Was anyone here with you?” Jon shook his head again. Martin looked uncertain. “Really? Because I thought I saw– something. Just a shadow, maybe, or fog playing tricks on me. It disappeared a second after I saw you.”
“A shadow?” Jon frowned. He could almost picture a shadowy figure, at home amongst tombstones, with red eyes… Just as a cold, strangely familiar dread pulled at him, Martin waved his hand and dismissed the issue.
“Oh, never mind. Let’s just get back home and in bed, we’ll talk more later.” But before Martin got up, he pulled off his boots and set them next to Jon’s feet. “You can wear these. You must be freezing.”
Jon was cold enough that he didn’t argue. The shoes were large and difficult to walk in, but his feet felt scraped raw already, and Martin had thick socks at least, as well as a more protective sweater over the rest of his clothes. Jon stayed tucked to his side until they made it back to their dormitory, the building set aside for boarding research students.
Soon enough, Jon was settled back into his own bed, Martin in his own across the room, keeping a concerned eye on him. Jon could do little else than drift back to sleep until morning came. He would get up, and, without thinking, open up the window latch, leaving it open just a crack, to let in a summer breeze.