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The worst part wasn’t the bite—it was where Nox bit, along Chase’s vocal cords, so that every hum or moan was amplified straight into Nox’s ears. It was a kind of binding that went beyond touch, beyond force; it was biological, instinctive, intimate. Nox often did this before Chase’s dance performances, always targeting the spot that drew Chase’s gaze to his own reflection. Blood would drip down his neck, but the vampire himself was never seen, always just there, impossible to hold, as Chase, vain and mesmerized, couldn’t look away from what was being done to him. He liked seeing it, in a way—his own body transformed into a stage, every mark and bite accentuating him.
“You can’t take all of my blood,” Chase said as Nox withdrew his fangs from his neck. “Some of it’s for my fans, you know.”
“Didn’t you also say your lips were for your fans?” Nox countered, brushing his fingers lightly against Chase’s lips.
“I don’t remember saying that,” Chase lied, rolling his eyes.
“You don’t remember saying it before we started dating.”
“No,” Chase admitted, looking at himself in the mirror as he applied makeup to cover Nox’s marks. “I didn’t know kisses could mean anything until I met you. Besides, I can’t have my fans knowing I’m dating a Victorian vampire.”
“I think your fans would sooner believe your manager is a vampire than that the random nobody you’re dating is one.”
“You’re not a nobody, Nox,” Chase said, glancing back at him. “You’re just… one of those eccentric writers who releases a book every few years and then vanishes off the face of the Earth.”
“You try writing under deadlines, forcing homoerotic undertones into a story without ever actually saying your characters are gay because of censorship,” Nox replied, his tone half-amused, half-frustrated. “I’ve been doing that since the Victorian era. And now you meet some openly gay pop star who sings about being gay, and in twenty years of living does what I haven’t managed in centuries.”
“Hey, it’s not a competition,” Chase said softly, finishing the final touches on his neck to hide Nox’s bites. “I get it… hiding who you are sucks. I wasn’t open with my sexuality until I met you, either. It’s just… a lot, coming to terms with it while also performing for an audience that’s mostly heteronormative. Anything sexual in the music world is either hailed as genius or condemned as obscene. There’s no in-between.”
“And on top of that, you’re dating a vampire who isn’t even a count… just a Victorian orphan,” Nox said, a teasing lilt in his voice as Chase wrapped his hands around him.
“Hey, no more comparisons,” Chase shot back, tightening his arms. “You can’t just drink my blood and then get all sad about it. You said you weren’t one of those brooding vampires, and I… I love you, Nox. I love you, and I love your weird adoptive sister Violet—who hates that I know you’re a vampire—and I love your strange, eccentric novels…”
“You’ve never even read my novels,” Nox pointed out, arching an eyebrow.
“Okay, fair,” Chase admitted with a grin, “I’m not exactly a big reader. But I loved that song I wrote for the movie adaptation of your book and that song never would have come to be if it wasn’t for your novel’s existence.”
“Technically, I told the movie studio I wanted a classical score for the soundtrack, not pop.”
“And they totally ignored you,” Chase said, smirking. “Because they wanted to appeal to a wider audience. But look on the bright side if they hadn’t hired me, we wouldn’t have met at the premiere. You clearly hated my guts that night, but you did save me from that one movie executive who was getting way too touchy, and then we got to talking which led to us dating and the rest is history.”
“So you’re saying I should be happy we got together because of corporate greed?”
“Exactly. In spite of corporate greed, we make art. Though for you it’s the book publishing world, and for me… well, the music industry.”
“You’re going to be at the show tonight, right?” Chase asked.
Nox nodded.
“Of course I am,” he said. “Seeing you out there being a star… seeing everyone adore you… there’s no way I’d miss it.”
The one thing Nox hated most when watching Chase perform was the blush. Whenever applause from the fans painted Chase’s cheeks pink, or even the faintest flush of emotion appeared, all Nox could think about was how to drink that blood—how to erase that lovely, vulnerable glow. He was a vampire, possessive to his core, and though Chase sometimes loved the attention, the affection, Nox hated himself for wanting to take it all for himself. That blush, that fleeting warmth, stirred something he couldn’t tame, and he despised the darkness it revealed within him.