Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/297936.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Social_Network_(2010)_RPF
  Relationship:
      Andrew_Garfield/Armie_Hammer
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe, Vampires, Dubious_Consent
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-12-21 Words: 4903
****** The Vampire Armand ******
by lulahbelle
Notes
     Vampire fic. Yes Vampires. An AU RPF fic with vampires *hangs head in
     shame* Would you believe I didn't cotton on to the idea of nicking
     the title from Anne Rice's book The Vampire Armand until I had
     finished writing it.
     I am an idiot.
     Perhaps needless to say in that context, but this is not even really
     remotely based on the actual people's actual selfs it just uses their
     appearances and elements of their biography --- much of their actual
     characterisation is entirely made up.
     Basically it was my friends birthday and inspired by hers and my own
     love of these two gorgeous boys and vampires, I wrote this nearly 5
     thousand words of vampire porn.
The moon was full, a luminous white saucer in the cloudless, post midnight sky.
As Andrew left the home of his fiance Shannon in the chill, he drew warmth from
thinking of her; of the maturity and permanence of spirit that wreathed her,
from her steady voice to her docile brown eyes. Andrew was satisfied, with her
he felt like a man set for good. Soon he would complete medical school and
become a doctor. Then they would marry, children would follow, and Shannon
could keep a nice home for socialising as he rose through the ranks to
consultancy.
It was a vision of his future that might have appalled the precocious teenager
Andrew had once been. The boarding school boy, who had resolutely despised the
opposite sex and had once, to his mother's great dismay, pledged to make a life
without them, but as he was now equally appalled by who he had been then, what
it had led to, it balanced.
Shannon lived far out of town with her parents, miles from Andrew's digs. It
was nearly rural round her way, and there was little by the way of public
transport, especially late at night, which made for a long walk home, and one
usually attempted by him far too late to be pleasant.
Though it was necessary if they were to see one another, it worried Shannon for
him to walk so far in the dark. Parts of the walk further on involved walking
down the grass verge at the side of a road, and in the night hours traffic did
race past so - so many people rushing home, naively believing that the dark
meant they wouldn't be observed by the speed cameras breaking the limit.
Still Andrew had walked it many times before now and been ok, so Shannon had
started to be less concerned by this hazard and calmer at the thought of Andrew
walking home in general, at least up until a week or so ago, when a young man
was stabbed and killed in a playing field yards from Shannon's door.
In fact on the very field that Andrew now passed.
Andrew wasn't worried by it. He tried explaining to Shannon something he truly
believed, that the sorts of people who died that way had earnt it somehow.
Andrew believed that most people received the energy they gave out for good and
bad - he had to organise the world in this simple manner to believe that he
could stop what had happened to him from ever, ever happening again. Shannon
never knew that fear motivated his eager belief in karma though. Andrew hoped
she never would, he barely wanted to know it himself.
To this end Andrew believed the murder of the boy to have been drug related.
Even when the newspaper said that the family of the dead boy, who it emerged
was a student at the college across the way, said he was an angel who had never
touched drugs and whom no one would have any motive to kill, Andrew had never
stopped believing that the boy was up to something nefarious when he'd been
killed.
Parents didn't know alot of things. Andrew's own parents for instance, maybe
even his teachers too, would have said he was an angel when he was at school,
but Andrew knew otherwise. It was a point of hot dark shame inside him never
revealed to a living soul and never quite quietened in his own head to his
satisfaction, how bad he had been then, the ways in which he had been bad.
He shuddered, glad of Shannon, nothing like that ever again. No. He was going
to be married, have children, be normal, have a happy life.
So Andrew strode confidently past the inky black of the field to head under the
railway bridge. There was some light under there, and beyond it, like heaven in
the rural dark, was a tangerine wash of street lamp from the council estate he
had to pass by.
He smiled glad to be moving towards civilization, even if all that meant at the
present was that it wouldn't be long before he was on the long road to the next
clump of houses, and despite the fact that after this there would be another
longish road before he could get to his bed in town.
Walking was healthful he reminded himself. After all that was why he always
refused the grudging offer Shannon's dad made to drive him back to digs. Well
that and the fact that he didn't really like Shannon's dad, and didn't want to
be forced to confront that fact.
His phone rang, startling him, it was Shannon. Finding that he didn't feel
quite safe to continue walking at this time of the night with his hearing
distracted, Andrew rested still under the bridge to take the call, his back
against it's stone wall, his eyes on the wall across from him.
As he answered it she was talking at once.
"Are you past the field yet?"
"Yes! Look Nonny, you need to stop this ok, I'll be alright."
As Andrew stood there looking over the empty black tarmac of the road, a tall,
well built stranger, huddled into his jacket against the cold, passed through
his sight. Andrew was startled, a little confused as to where this guy had come
from. When he'd gotten the call he had jumpily swung a look behind him, and it
had looked then, as if the way back, almost to the curve of Shannon's road, had
been entirely empty. He tried to quell a ridiculous concern as the guy moved
along away from him that the fellow, a big black shadow as he flashed through
his sight even beneath the bridge lights, had come out of the field, a
murderer, a nightmare come to life.
Laughing at his own sense of drama, in the control of logic and sense, Andrew
told Shannon again not to worry, and she murmured her assent.
All the while he kept his eyes swivelled to the side on the man who retreated
from him slowly but steadily. Then, as Andrew talked to Shannon, the man
paused, turned around, and looked back toward Andrew.
At first this alarmed him again, but his thumping heart of fear mutated quickly
into a sharp palpitation of shock, because even at a distance and in a flash of
dim orange light, Andrew could see, sense palpably that the man was fucking
beautiful.
Desire, after so long avoiding it, and in the context of his loving phone call
from a woman he loved but had never desired, was a wrenching, upsetting
experience that Andrew was not prepared enough to police effectively.
The guy was too well made to ignore.
About the same age as Andrew, young, he was significantly taller and better
built than he, shoulders broad and clearly muscled beneath his clothes. He put
Andrew in mind of athletes he'd known. Fit, casually sculpted, possessor of a
bodily coordination and grace that seemed inadvertent.
Then here there was that which previous fellows seemed often to lack for his
face was good looking too, having a soft beauty about it that was over
emphasized by it being atop a body so clearly powerful in stature.
Golden hair, his eyes perfect in shape, their angle clearly devised with direct
attention to the descent of the nose, and all of the care and harmony of these
features feeding into the line of his generous mouth.
Added to this, the perfect faced creature now stared at Andrew continuously, as
if unsure, or curious.
Longing?
Wanting?
Andrew just about kept his phone to his ear, but with such contemplations about
the stranger stirring him had no mind for what was said to him by his love.
They stared mutually, then the stranger began to slowly walk back toward him.
Andrew was at instant filled with a low thrumming need, with a sluttish relent
of the type that had fueled all the bad behaviour of his school days, back
before he was old enough to know better. He felt vaguely like a traitor. He had
changed, and yet here he was again, stolen despite all of his defenses and
denials, willingly bad. Whatever the stranger wanted, Andrew knew what he
wanted.
Sex.
Shame.
The light shone off the enamel of the stranger's even white teeth and the
liquid in his light eyes which were black in the corners with lash, as he said.
"Hey."
He was American and impossibly deep voiced.
Andrew flinched, nearly dropped his phone. His, Mr Golden hair's, reassurance
was immediate and smiley.
"Sorry to scare you dude."
Andrew barely had the presence of mind to point soundlessly to his phone where
he made his farewells to his love without even hearing her replies, as all the
while he was thinking of things he could say to the handsome stranger when he
had the opportunity.
"Hey man, sorry."
It's an apology for interrupting Andrew's phone call.
Andrew found that shamefully he wasn't sorry, for the man's face contorted by
concern is handsomer for the tension.
"Oh no, no, no it's ok, it was only my girlfriend, she's just worrying, she has
nothing important to say."
"Women."
Andrew wondered if he was hallucinating a meaning behind this and barely
uttered
"Yeah." Then trying to be more confused as to why this man spoke to him, than
he was thrilled at the fact that he did, Andrew asked.
"Are you ok?"
The creature fumbled over his words.
"Yes uh, hello, uhm, my name is Armie."
"Armie?" Andrew said unprepared for the unusualness of the name. "Pleased to
meet you Armie, I'm Andrew." he said, extending a hand to shake, which was
immediately enclosed in a hand far larger than his. Andrew was amused by the
air of formality about him, so civilised and friendly for someone who he
thought was clearly just about to ask him for a light.
The small lingering smile of gratitude that Armie gave his handshaking gesture
intoxicated Andrew, almost compelled him to seek it however and wherever it
might be attained.
No longer did he slip, now he fell.
Armie began to speak, to explain himself.
"Ok, ok so, there's like no dignified way of saying this, but I'm really lost
and drunk and um I, uh... Is the only way to Urmston through there?"
He pointed back to the field they had passed, which now looked as pitch black
and terrifying to Andrew as a hole in the ground to eternity. Andrew kept his
eyes on the pleasing sight of the man whose face was full of a smile that now
the suggestion of drunkenness had been raised, now seemed addled.
"Oh. No. No. It's not the only way, I mean it's the most direct way and the
indirect ways you're looking at an extra mile or so on your journey, but it's
not the only."
Urmston was the neighbouring town to Shannon's in the opposite direction to
where Andrew walked to get home and a bit of a bitch to get to late at night as
the area where Shannon lived was in the middle of a circle of roads.
"Fuckin' great." Armie said trying to be disappointed by the information but
apparently too drunk for it to stick for he was soon laughing hysterically.
Andrew laughed with him, and at him and received a wide smile in return, one
that was all white and perfect, and sharp?
"How did you end up round here at this time of the night?"
"Well, I'm an American see, so..."
"...I could tell." Andrew quipped.
Armie laughed explosively at that, at himself, at Andrew, and Andrew was taken
with his joy.
"Well, so I'm an American and my student accomadation is in Urmston, but I've
only been here a few weeks and I'm really bad at direction right so everytime I
leave my house I get lost like this."
Armie's voice was bright, as if he found his foolishness funny before anyone
else could.
"Take it you don't study geography?" Andrew asked.
It released a delighted laugh from his companion.
Andrew had heard from Shannon about the student halls in Urmston. Her previous
boyfriend had lived there for a term before being kicked out of uni.
"So yeah, I've missed the last bus back there and I thought maybe there would
be floodlights on the field or something so I could just walk back, but yeah,
no way. Didn't even realise I was afraid of the dark until now."
"It's a special kind of dark this far out. It's not nice..." Andrew
sympathised. "Uhm, well, it's actually sort of complicated to get back round to
Urmston without using the field, you'd have to go back the way you came for a
bit, and then there's, well you follow..."
Here Andrew was distracted from his casualness by the realisation that the
golden man stared at him heated and dark. His face, luminous with friendly
pleasure, seeming for a fraction of a second to mask something more intent and
predatory behind it. The treacherous possibility that he was desired robbed
Andrew of his ability to calmly continue.
"...Uhm... uh... give me a minute and I'll look on Google maps for the best
directions."
Andrew pressed his phone in preparation as he said it.
"No." Armie said, grabbing the wrist of the hand his phone is in hard.
The grip felt heavier and tighter than it should have been given Armie's
joviality of mood, and despite his size.
Being seized, grabbed, ignited a flare of illicit excitement in Andrew's veins,
that connected him with his past shenanigans, but this only persisted in a
moment before he felt an appropriate, terrible fear.
What was happening?
Andrew narrowed his eyes in confusion at Armie, this turning to self righteous
irritation as Armie peered back smiling blandly, beningnly his face still
terrifically handsome.
"What are you doing?"
Andrew asked more in emotional breath than words.
Armie's grip tightened and wrenched him back slighly until the point of contact
throbbed a bruising pain and all the while he looked through him, as if he
didn't see him at all.
Blue eyes blank and iced over, his smile uniform and devoid of life as though
he were aping emotion.
It was surreal.
Andrew couldn't say he had never been in a fight in his life, he had riled
people to violence before, usually just as inadvertently, but none of them were
even vaguely like this. Those occasions were anger boiling through the blood,
the awkward smash of the fist into the shoulder or face or body, a kick in the
balls.
The cold amusement of this serene creature holding him in a vice grip was
utterly alien and yet his touch was aggressive.
An attack? Was he being attacked? He struggled for alternative explanations.
"Get off!"
Andrew struggled now, dropping his phone in the process, but it did him no
good, for Armie just grabbed the other wrist with the other hand, and pushed
him back against the wall of the bridge, somehow having the strength even from
this poor leverage to smack Andrew's back into the brickwork so hard that it
winded him.
Andrew was only just able to breathe, each hoarse pant feeling like blades in
his chest, as options for escape blared and kicked, and screamed in his brain.
He wanted to hit out, but before he could even half think of punching Armie in
the throat, the man had one hand around his neck, keeping him pinioned to the
wall by it terrifyingly hard.
So eerily quick was this change in position, that it almost seemed as though it
were not made of movements.
Control was easily lost, as the crushing constriction of the savage grip
required Andrew to do all he could not to move, lest he choke himself out.
Andrew was functionally immobilised.
Stilled.
Again the same question, this time in a high sobbing noise, the only sound that
could push pass those wrenching hands.
"What are you doing?"
Armie's face had finally changed to something appropriate. Still so very pretty
in the length of eyelashes and the wide turn of his mouth, his features were
now sombre, no longer mobile with laughing, or even the vague, cold smiles of
moments earlier.
Andrew knew he had been duped.
A cold sickening realisation unfolded quickly into a piercing panic, then a
real visceral hatred for his own stupidity. Then fear again, because what could
this man want that he couldn't have had ten times over already?
His phone? Top of the range, a present from his parents it lay on the ground by
his feet discarded, ignored, not that.
What?
"You can have my wallet." Andrew struggled, trying not to be so lost to fear
that he whimpered.
"I don't want it." Armie said almost pitying.
His grip was cold, like Andrew had been clamped by an iron cuff around his
neck, and yet he saw the same angelic looking man before him, and Andrew could
not believe would have the strength nor the will to hurt and restrain him so.
Andrew couldn't move to shudder in fear or to squirm but the urge climbed.
Why?
His mind blazed the question over and over, although a devious part of his soul
recalled the look of interest the other man had worn and that which he had
given, and from previous experience readily filled in the blanks, Andrew could
not consciously allow the thought because he was painfully afraid that thinking
it may cause it to be true.
As though such a premonition may on some mute subconscious level be hope, wish,
desire.
Able to sense the panic that climbed within Andrew from his eyes, Armie shook
his head.
"Sssssssh."
The sound came so full of affection and sympathy, but there was no pause
whatsoever before Armie slid his grip up Andrew's neck, to sit under his jaw,
forcing his face upward, baring his neck, and stretching it taut.
Then there, quicker than a flash, on the newly vulnerable skin, Armie traced a
line with the tip of a pointed fingernail.
Being a medical student Andrew knew he had mapped the exact path of his jugular
vein and terrible disbelief seized him. He had read a long time ago on the
Internet about people who believed they were vampires, and at the time,
incredulous, put it out of his mind. Now he wondered, was this person that sort
of person? Was this person the person who had killed the student in the field?
Would he kill him?
Andrew wanted to cry, but couldn't imagine he deserved his own tears for how
stupid he'd been.
There came the shudder of a train crossing the bridge overhead. It vibrated
down Andrew's spine, echoing his palpitating heart, his submerged, unvoiced
whimpering. For a second Andrew imagined the people on the train, pulled away
in their lit capsules, safe, unable to help as he was assaulted, unaware of his
demise.
He had to escape, he had to, or he would be dead, never to take another train
journey himself anywhere ever again, never to do anything, ever again.
"Ssssh." Armie said, stroking Andrew's face lovingly like a mother comforting a
child.
He then followed this with a whispered, "I won't kill you."
His voice was almost light, but his face was still stern and appraising,
clearly considering violence toward him.
Andrew tried to move but couldn't, and his breathing was too paralysed by fear
for him to make the slightest sound. He grew limp, helpless, closed his eyes,
shaking, shivering in insufferable fear, unable to stop now he had begun.
Armie pulled in like a lover, pressing his chest against him, until Andrew felt
his heart rocketing, identical to his own. Then he bent his yellow head and put
his lips, warm and hard against Andrew's throat, moving over the area that his
finger had traced, soft, slow making a hitched, breathy noise of pleasure.
It was a disorientating, peculiar sound, close, low and unexpected, and the
touch, silken but feintly rough with stubble, was sensual and pleasing.
Andrew shivered hotly, more of a swoon than anything explained by fear. A
violent pang of need hit down in Andrew's guts, falling to his groin.
He was aroused, perversely, awfully, and wretchedly, but still nonetheless so.
For a lightheaded second he burnt with a shocking need to surrender to the
gorgeous man that was insistently sexual. Now weak enough, he realised that he
had wanted all along for the other to use him, to have him, force him as he
wanted.
His mind and decency clung for life to forbidding fear. Shame. Men should never
want such things. He was being punished for the desire.
"Come." Armie demanded roughly.
Still held in the steel of his human looking hands, Andrew had no option to
disobey.
The ground frictioned his heels as he was drug by his neck away from the lamps
and houses at the end of the tunnel, back into the pitch black darkness of the
field, into the domain of nature as prey.
Supporting his own weight on his neck Andrew became only dimly conscious.
His own words echoed in the buzz of pressure in his ears.
"It's a special kind of dark this far out. It's not nice"
When the pressure on Andrew's neck leavened off, and his eyes rolled open, he
was on his back in the tall, damp grass of the field, straddled at the knees by
his attacker. Barely conscious he felt weight above him shift, then an intense
sting on the pad of his shoulder, yanking him at once to the upper surface of
life.
He had been bitten, he knew this because the creature's full mouth was still
upon his flesh in the area of the pain, but at the same time the sensation
through his nerves was sharper than teeth, more like a row of needles piercing
him deeply.
Sharp teeth.
Andrew thrashed and bucked wildly to dislodge him, but his body did not
respond, and all his frantic, self defensive action, seemed to translate in
actuality to little more than a weak flexing of his limbs.
Andrew remembered hearing about this situation during a lecture on anesthetics.
It really felt like he was being put under and bewildered as to how he could
have been drugged he closed his eyes and tears leaked free of him.
Armie sucked hard at his shoulder, making a deep, guttural noise of fulfillment
and rolled his hips against Andrew, jabbing into him with his erection just
moments before he bit teeth hard into him again.
Andrew's back arched up involuntarily at these two shocks and he groaned just
as inadvertent in a painful, twisted ecstasy, as pulses ran from his guts up
the length of his cock, hardening it.
The pain and humiliation were utterly unavoidable and relentlessly inflicted.
Exquisite punishment for his lust, for his dirt, for his badness.
He remembered the bad boy he had been, so pleased by the attention of an older
boy that he went out to the field with him one day, only to find there were two
more boys waiting for them. He hadn't run, because although he had felt
tremendous fear that they would hurt him and he ought to have dread the though
of pain, he'd had a curious unstable excitement at the prospect too.
For their elaborate praise he had let them slip his clothing off in burning
pulls along him. Lain there as they touched his naked body, passed it between
them, with desire to be entirely submissive and given over to the wonder of
full attention, revelling in his entire control and entire helplessness.
So wrong, sexual assault was the word used at the trial, and in reality he had
just rolled over and accepted it.
He was disgusting and he had changed not at all.
Pain as the teeth sunk deeper, as the sucking that followed prolonged the hot
lance sensation. Punishing and gratifying just as those fingers that had slid
inside him dry and violating had been so many years ago now.
The world became filmy and unreal, the navy blue of the sky above him melted
from its anchors and sloshed all over the place.
Armie's head raised, and his face was hard in Andrew's, watching him fade away
with hyper focus. His full lips were bright red in the light from the
streetlamps on the road. Such a thick, full mouth, coloured so prettily, Andrew
wanted it instinctively on his cock before he realised in the dim light that it
was his blood that stained them.
Vampire?
Vampires were supersition, but what else could this be?
His large hands pushed against the flaps of his shirt icy cold, against the
warmth of his belly then falling lower. Heavy on top of his trousers at his
crotch, settling over his erection.
"No, no, no." Andrew sobbed.
There was no response but a stroking, and without his say Andrew's hip bucked
into the touch.
"Please, what are you doing?" he cannot say a thing without whimpering.
"Sssh."
His head shrieked but his body couldn't move in anything but lust. Armie leant
in again and this time said something.
"I'm sorry."
That All American accent and his red mouth stained with stolen blood plasma.
All the same he sank his head back to the wound, compulsive, deeper sending
pain boiling up the veins in Andrew's neck, up the side of his face, into the
back of his head. It was like the worst injection he had ever suffered, the
burning sustained and persistant.
He wriggled, wanting to shrink away from it, but had to lay and take it
instead.
Andrew's cock pulsed still under Armie's hand, erecting ever firmer, as his
neck was unceasingly assaulted.
The darkness of the world around him and the dark depths of his lack of control
and abandon made a terrific fear that choked and drowned him. At the same time
the base pleasure drawn through his inert belly and spine by the hand working
roughly between his legs was like air, a return to something familiar.
"It will be quicker and less painful if you release at the same time."
Armie whispered to him his voice thick, deep, booming through him, drawing and
controlling him.
Andrew whimpered, distressed and confused at how much he wanted this and his
head began to unravel obediently, disagreement beginning to lift, make way to
fuggy pleasure.
Armie took the blood up from his throat in long relaxed licks now, emitting
keening sounds of pleasure from deep in his throat with each swipe of tongue,
as if he found him delicious.
Andrew's breaths were shallow pants in response, shivery with arousal. He was
laid out and low, given in, weak, wanting.
He had a flash of future sight. Soon he would be dead in a ditch, body
desecrated, defiled and the people who found his mangled corpse would have such
pity for him, little knowing how keenly he desired, how he lusted, longed and
craved to be taken.
Disgust continued to torment him beneath the strong coursing lust.
Almost as if in answer to his uspoken thoughts Armie's voice rose.
"Ssssh. I'm not here to punish you. It's not personal, you just have the
antibodies I need."
Andrew's confusion was intense, his eyes were wide. Armie's lips red and
succulent either side of the white sharp points of his canine teeth spoke more.
"We've swopped fluid, you can feel my hunger in your blood now, that's why
you're turned on, our arousals feed one another's. Your arousal makes your
blood richer, your heart throws it at me. I want more, so you want more."
Andrew had a convulsion of fear and revulsion but deeper, and rumbling through
his essence he was stirred by the thoughts of the hidden, mutual feeding from
one another.
Armie's hand was inside his fly now on his cock jacking him off hard as he
siphoned his blood away.
Andrew could feel himself near the edge. Eyes full of fear again as the
pleasure tensed his body up wanting to let go for good and all.
"Sssh it's ok, we both wanted this from the moment you looked in my face, just
let me take it, let me take and I'll let you free."
The intense sting of his teeth in his flesh heightened with each second, but it
was isolated pain amongst warm flushing pleasure, controlled, measured pain and
it's extremity went straight to his groin. Andrew felt himself reeling weak as
his arousal climbed giddily higher and higher. He could feel himself getting
feinter, the sound of Armie sucking growing quieter as his body twisted with
ecstasy.
"That's the blood coming."
He wanted to raise fingers to his neck to stop it and himself falling away and
could almost move with the fiercest of concentration, but Armie clamped on his
hand, ending his last struggle.
Then magnificent and shocking orgasm snapped in a flash through his body and
overtook him. He was wet and hot and satiated and aware that Armie was grunting
too with a flurry of deep rich satisfaction but all too soon sensation passed
helplessly away to an irresistable darkness.
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