Page 38 of How to Bite Your Neighbor and Win a Wager
It was probably good money—better than what Vincent made off his random odd jobs—but their express desire to conduct research on vampires when the company had produced nothing to help them in all the years of its growth and progress had always turned his stomach a little. So rarely did anyone ever want vampires for anything. When they did, it was never for the vampire’s benefit.
Well, perhaps notnever. In Wesley’s case, they were both benefiting equally off the human’s enjoyment of being bitten. Whether or not that had been Wes’s intention, Vincent found he wasn’t actually sure. His chest tightened. Fuck, thishadstarted as Wes wanting an adrenaline kick. Maybe that was still all Vincent was to him? He didn’t want to believe so, not after all the other amazing things Wesley had done for him, but now that he’d considered it, the doubt caught hold of him like it had claws.
“Hey, Wes?” He asked.
“Huh?” Wesley glanced up. Vincent swore his gaze lingered somewhere between Vincent’s chin and his nose, as though looking for his fangs.
“You know all my jokes about fetishes and stuff—that’s all it is, just me trying to be funny.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, thatiswhat it is right? You’re not…”
Wesley looked paler than normal, his tanned skin a bit ghostly. Panic tightened around his eyes. When he spoke, it was a little harsh and a little empty all at once. “Not what?”
“You’re notonlyhanging out with me because I can bite you?” Vincent felt his own fear growing, and he stared across the street as he spoke. “It’s fine if that’s your kink or whatever—I thought it was great, too—it wasreallygreat, actually. I didn’t know biting someone could be like that. But um, I guess what I mean is, I’m more thanjusta set of fangs, and I—”I like you, Wesley Smith Garcia, and I need to know you see me as a person, even if you don’t like me back.He wanted to say that, he wanted so badly just to be out with it, but it caught in his throat, a tight, terrifying bundle that seemed so wrong for this moment, both of them sopping and shivering and scared.
Before he could find the courage, Wesley took over for him. “No! No, Vinny, I…” He trailed off, wiping a trembling hand through his hair. His gaze slid to that glass box with the Vitalis-Barron flier, and he looked like he was going to throw up. His phone beeped. “That’s the car.”
Sure enough, a black sedan with a taxi sign in the window pulled around the corner.
Vincent’s heart pounded as it approached. He trusted Wesley, believed that if he said Vincent’s fears were wrong, then they were—but this didn’t feel over. It felt like they had tried to unravel something and only tangled it further. But the driver pulling up in front of them was already eyeing their wet clothes like she might just keep going if they didn’t pile in fast enough, and there was no way Vincent was continuing this conversation in some random stranger’s car.
Wesley opened the door, his grin not quite filling out his face the way it usually did as he confirmed with the driver. A little further down the street, a small, laughing group of people spilled out of the only other open building. As they turned toward Vincent, his body went a whole new kind of cold. He nudged Wesley inside the car, but before he could follow, the lady at the front of the group locked eyes with him.
Mr. Babcock’s assistant.
She stared at him as he fled into the car and slammed the door closed. Vincent didn’t exhale until they’d turned down the street and out of her view. No one chased after him, no aggressive blacked-out cars suddenly pulling out on their tail like they might in a movie. Of course not. Babcock and his assistant were cruel bigots, but they had just been taking advantage of the fact that their employee was a vampire. They wouldn’t hunt him down so long as he stayed out of their way. He was safe now.
His tension remained, though, transferring from thoughts of Babcock’s assistant to the shivering mess beside him. He turned the backseat heater on full blast.
Wesley closed his eyes and leaned his head on Vincent’s shoulder.
Vincent’s chest warmed, but he caught a glance from their driver and looked pointedly out the window after. They were just friends; no one had any right to judge them for their physical contact. But Vincent wanted more than friendship. He wanted to be coming home from a date, Wesley’s head on his shoulder because they were going to climb into bed together later and wake up tangled in each other’s limbs the next morning. There were people in this city who would judge them for that; he had known them, grown up with them, felt their conviction like sand trapped under his nails and a constant eternal buzz in his ears, even when they hadn’t known it washimthey were judging.
At least his parents never had the chance to kick him out for his sexuality. If he came out openly now, they would probably never find out.
For all his fears, there were also plenty of people in San Salud who wouldn’t judge him and Wesley just for the simple pleasures of existing. Maybe the odd looks had nothing to do with their genders and everything to do with their state of dress. Any taxi driver with a passenger who shivered as much as Wesley had every reason to keep glancing back, if only to check that they were still conscious. Vincent couldn’t help it if he assumed the worst, but neither did he want to live his life trapped dwelling on the worst either.
The driver gave them a final worried look as they stopped in front of Wesley’s house, but when Wes straightened himself up and thanked her, she seemed a little more relaxed. She didn’t drive away until they were inside.
Vincent still felt instantly better with the door closed and the walls of the house blocking out the rest of the world. What was it like to be Wes, to know that no matter what he faced he would always have this place to come back to, a safe space to be himself without fear of judgment or aggression? Wes didn’t even realize how good he had things.
A little bundle of resentment flared deep in Vincent’s gut. He stamped it down. Wesley had paid for everything throughout the night, had offered up his blood and his food and his friendship without question. It was so much more than Vincent could ever dream of repaying him. He deserved this home and all the safety that came with it.
Wes groaned his way to the stairs. “I can take the master shower so you don’t have to wait.”
Vincent wavered. Blood, food, friendship, and now this too. “You’re sure? I can always just head out—”
“Like fuck you will.” Wesley scowled. “You’re not going anywhere until you shower.”
Vincent’s heart stammered and his lips twitched. He followed Wesley up the steps. “Alright, then, I’m not going anywhere. I guess I should probably stay to make sure you live through the night, anyways. Not because I care about you, or anything. I just want to get to eat you again in the future.”
Wes stopped so suddenly at the top of the stairs that when he turned he was looking down at Vincent for once. He tipped his chin with a smirk that Vincent wanted desperately to wipe off the man’s face with his lips and fangs and tongue. “Addicted to me already, huh?”
Vincent growled and pressed up the last step, forcing Wesley into the wall with one hand on his shoulder and the other on his elbow. “You’re mypreynow. I can thirst for you as much as I like.” He was ninety percent sure he was quoting either the vampire dating sim or a screenshot of a comic Wes had sent him, but at the moment all his memories were being replaced by the way Wes’s throat bobbed and his breath stuttered just a bit, his light shivering only adding to the effect.
Then Wes snorted and pulled out of Vincent’s grip in a playful shove. “Oh, fuck off, I have to shower.” But he looked back on his way to the bedroom, his lips quirking. “You have to save some of those predatory instincts for tomorrow, you know.”
“You asked for them!” Vincent shouted after him, laughing.
“And I will absolutely have them, you be-fanged dork!” Wes returned with towels and two fresh sets of pajama clothes—looser ones for Vincent’s taller, ganglier body—and vanished into his mom’s old room. He left the door ajar behind him. Vincent waited for the sound of the master shower turning on before locking himself in Wesley’s bathroom.
