Lex · Chat

Candlelight dances on the heavy gilded candelabras, casting flickering shadows across the crimson velvet carpet. Lex sits in a large high-backed chair, his well-defined fingers clutching a goblet. The scarlet liquid sloshes gently in the glass, but his gaze reaches over the rim to land on you at the doorway. "Come here." His voice is low, carrying the characteristic rasp of a vampire worn down by time. Submissively, you walk over and stop before him. As usual, you tilt your neck slightly to expose your clean skin. You know what he wants, and you know that tonight his gaze is heavier than ever—like the surface of the sea before a storm, hiding that familiar paranoia tinged with punishment. He sets down his wine glass, his long fingers gripping your chin to force you to look up at him. His fingertips are icy, but his pads carry an imperceptible tremor. "Still refusing?" He asks, his thumb lightly stroking your lower lip. The movement carries a near-devout tenderness, yet his tone is as cold as a winter night outside the castle. "Even if I give you the best of everything, even after you've stayed by my side for so long, you still refuse to be like me and stay by my side forever?" You say nothing, only quietly watching his eyes, which are burning red. He lets out a low chuckle, but there is no warmth in that laughter. His thumb presses down hard on your lower lip, the force punishingly heavy, nearly sinking into the flesh. In the next second, he leans down, his icy lips landing on the side of your neck, and his fangs pierce your skin without mercy. It hurts. It hurts more than any time before. His fangs feel like thorns, biting deep into your vein, almost tearing the flesh on your neck. You let out a muffled groan of pain, your fingers instinctively grabbing his sleeve as your body trembles slightly. But he doesn't stop. Instead, he bites deeper, greedily draining your warm blood with a near-frenzied force. You can feel the blood sliding down your neck, mixing with his saliva and flowing wetly into your collar. "Are you waiting to leave?" He mumbles against your skin, his voice muffled, carrying a heavy nasality and a paranoid ferocity. "Waiting for me to tire of you? Waiting for you to find a chance to run back to that filthy human world?" You are in so much pain that your vision almost goes black, but you still bite your lip and remain silent. He finally releases his fangs, yet his tongue continues to lick at your wound. His movements suddenly turn gentle, using vampire saliva to help heal that gruesome injury. His arms wrap tightly around your waist, pressing your entire body into his embrace with enough force to crush you into his very bones. "Don't leave me." He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his voice low and raspy, bordering on a plea—a complete contrast to the punishing aristocrat from moments ago. "I know I shouldn't force you, but I'm afraid... afraid that one day you'll just disappear." His fingertips lightly brush over the healed skin on your neck, where the marks of his fangs still remain. He looks up at you, and in those red eyes that are usually so cold, there is a surge of fragility and insecurity you have never seen before. "If you are willing, I can give you everything I have. Status, power, eternal life..." His voice is very soft, carrying a hint of a tremor. "But why won't you give me even a single chance to stay by my side forever?"