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Sammie Moore doesn’t happen to sin. Sin happens to Sammie Moore.
His life would be entertaining if it weren’t a series of never-ending terrors these days. The morning after that horrific night at the Juke Joint, Sammie had tearfully run back into the arms of his father and the church. He denounced the evils of blues music and swore on the bible he would never stray towards sin again.
And Sammie kept his promise. He hasn’t stepped out of line once. Hasn’t hummed as much as a radio jingle since that night. Hasn’t laughed or shared a smile with anyone.
But now, a mere four weeks later, he’s been seized by a heat so terrible and all-encompassing that he’s been praying for the good lord to just bring him home to glory already.
Sammie scrubs a trembling hand across his overheated brow. Mama, please forgive me for thinkin’ that.
But everything is just—too much.
Smoke is dead. Stack is a vampire. Sammie was the sole survivor, and the guilt is inescapable.
He heard about the aftermath from the whispers of folks in town during the following days. His eldest cousin found dead among a dozen klan member bodies. At least 20 Clarksdale residents gone missing, some of their belongings found at the site of the massacre. And the doors of the steel mill, still tightly locked shut.
(the doors creak open and the lights go on at night. and then they call to him. they won’t stop calling to him)
Sammie has been broken ever since. When he feels, he feels too much. Devastation by the loss of his cousins; one to undeath, the other to the afterlife. Regret over not being able to save anyone but himself that night. Confusion over what really protected him from Remmick’s intent to bite him in the river. And anger and fear toward the creatures who still remain at the Juke Joint even now, four weeks later.
He doesn’t know what to do with himself. So Sammie does his best to feel nothing at all. He lives what’s left of his life hollowly. He does his work. He goes to church. He lets his mother apply salve to the scars on his face every evening, staring blankly at the dark horizon. He ignores Stack cajoling him as he watches fireflies on the porch, ignores Mary begging him to dine with them instead as he bows his head for grace at the dinner table.
And he tries his hardest to forget, though the task is impossible.
It’s been a month of this empty, haunted feeling that has taken over his life. Sammie had thought things couldn’t get any worse.
And then his heat came.
Casually as anything. Saw the trials and tribulations Sammie was enduring and thought to pile on too.
Everything is scorchingly hot. Sammie has never had a heat this bad.
Up until now his heats were manageable, easy even—easy enough that Sammie has fully passed as a beta for a few years now. He has never been left bedridden or consumed by lust as he’s heard other omegas are. Never knew what it felt like, until now.
It’s been three days of torture. Sammie can barely move, aching and shivering all day and sweating all night. His siblings are happy to cover his work, but that’s little relief when there seems to be no end in sight for his suffering.
Sammie’s stomach cramps endlessly. He’s hornier than he’s ever been in his life.
And he can’t stop thinking about Remmick.
“Lord help me,” Sammie begs, letting his arm drop to the side and hang limp in the stifling air. The heat of the Mississippi evening is heavy and unbearable. He has been sleeping outside in the hammock for the last few days to spare his family from his unmanageable pheromones, but tonight Sammie can’t fall asleep at all. He’s hot and sticky and his mind is racing, plagued by flashes of memory-- a big, clawed hand holding his waist while the other tips his head back, bloodied fangs glinting in the moonlight, and bright red eyes that gazed at Sammie as a lover would.
The recollections make him tremble, make his already heated skin burn harder.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Sammie kind of wishes he would just pass on already. Anything would be better than being caught up in a heat-induced obsession with an undead monster that walks around like a regular country bumpkin.
Don’t say that, little Sammie. Mary’s voice passes like a whisper on a breeze. And then, Stack’s voice, friendly and easy-going against Sammie’s ear.
Why don’t you come down to the joint and stay with us tonight. Sammie can picture the light, reassuring look on Stack’s face and it makes his heart clench in grief. C’mon, cuz. We can help ya.
“Shut up.” Sammie covers his eyes with his arm, wondering what he did to deserve this. “Leave me ‘lone.”
Sammie can’t even suffer in peace. Stack and Mary call to him regularly. They’ve set up a mockery of the home they’ve always wanted together down at the juke joint, probably cutting up a storm with the other vampires while Smoke and Annie lie beneath freshly dug graves.
The smallest of mercies is the fact that Sammie never, ever hears Remmick calling to him. The memories that disturb Sammie’s sleep are more than enough, but through the haze of his depression it still registers that Remmick has never once tried to speak to him since that night, despite Stack and Mary doing so freely.
The silence unnerves Sammie. Maybe Remmick is fatally injured, dying out slowly while he uses what’s left of his power to make Sammie’s old friends and neighbors entertain him. Or maybe he’s too embarrassed to talk to Sammie after the humiliation of failing to turn him.
Sammie hopes it’s the latter. Well, he hopes it’s the former, too, but it seems there’s still room for spite in his heart even amidst all the trauma.
Truth be told Sammie should have followed the path of either Stack or Smoke that evening. But—he didn’t.
Or rather… he couldn’t.
While Sammie’s knees were buckling under waist-deep water, clutching onto the very monster intent on devouring him than horrifying night—Remmick’s bashed and bloodied face split apart, lowering so he could sink his fangs into Sammie’s smooth neck-- Sammie was sure it was over for him but then—
Remmick was repelled.
The creature couldn’t turn him.
Remmick had tried more than once while Sammie clung to consciousness like he did the bloodied button-down of his pursuer. And each time he was parried by some shimmering gold magic, sparking off of his teeth in the dark. The other vampires howled in frustration, their cries blending together like the voices of some unholy choir.
And then—the sun came up. Remmick and the other vampires had retreated before their bodies could go up in flames. Smoke had dragged Sammie out of the water and onto land, pushed him towards the car and Sammie hightailed it out of their as fast as he could.
He ran back to the arms of his father and congregation, thinking a false sense of safety was better than none at all. And Sammie has been good since then. He thought it would heal him.
It hasn’t. The pain travels with him every moment of every day. Sammie wants so badly to just move on. Would give anything just to forget it all.
A raindrop hits Sammie’s forearm, startling him out of his jumbled thoughts. He blinks hazily as another two hit him on the cheek and the bridge of his nose.
Starting to rain…
It looks like sleeping outside isn’t an option tonight. Sammie crawls out of the hammock, clad in only a threadbare tan button-down shirt and short pants. There’s only one other place Sammie can go to that will provide shelter and keep him away from his family. The droplets turn into a light drizzle as he drags his weary body down the road towards the little white church.
Where ya goin,’ cuz? Stack asks.
Sammie… come to us, please… Mary begs. Come back to your family…
“Shut up, I said.” Sammie mutters out loud. “Ya’ll ain’t my family no more.”
He feels like he’s losing himself. Sammie doesn’t know why he can hear their voices. Despite feeling anything but, Sammie is still alive, at least as far as he can tell. Can still walk in the daylight, can still pass his fingers over the steel drum of the guitar at the pawn shop while wishing he had the courage to buy it. But his head is—occupied. By the trauma and the haunting whispers from his undead loved ones. And by Remmick.
Sammie curses the vampire’s name as he hauls open the heavy doors of the church. The drizzle turns into a full-on rainstorm as Sammie steps inside, carelessly leaving the doors wide open. The church is quiet and airy, offering a welcome solitude and refuge from the rain.
Moving automatically, Sammie turns to the storage area and gathers up some folded burlap and fellowship tablecloths. He arranges them into what he thinks is a nest—having never made one before—before settling onto his back atop the cushioning, resting his head just below the pulpit.
This ain’t too bad, Sammie thinks, attempting to counter his own misery by looking on the bright side. And the rain should cool things down some.
He folds his hands over his chest and closes his eyes. The wind whips raindrops against the side of the church. Heat pulses between his legs; Sammie ignores it, trying his best to fall asleep.
But like clockwork, Sammie’s thoughts become overtaken with a rush of heart-wrenching memories. Him, Stack, and Smoke grinning together in the brush before they split up that day. Playing his first solo show in front of his neighbors and beloved cousins. The unnervingly in sync plucking of banjo strings. Stack, bleeding from the neck, his body jerking unnaturally. Red eyes in the dark; Cornbread, Stack and Mary, clapping and singing with the vampire that Sammie himself had summoned to the juke joint.
Sammie worries his lower lip, whimpering in the dark. Now he’s in the river, water filling his lungs, his ankle screaming in pain. Remmick lifts him up as if his frightened water-logged body weighed nothing. He looks—otherworldly—as he hauls Sammie’s body against his own, caresses Sammie’s face with his clawed hand.
Sammie had never been so scared in his life. Had never felt anything like that, being desired so wholly by a creature such as Remmick. And it’s that desire that his omega hindbrain must be latching onto, because in the midst of his heat Sammie now remembers this time as intimate. Exciting. Pressed against Remmick’s body in the river, the vampire talking so sweet to him despite his frightening appearance…being wanted by an alpha and a monster, one who could protect Sammie, one who could provide…
Stop. Sammie screws his eyes shut tightly, unsure of who he’s even speaking to anymore. Provide for who? Protect Sammie from what? The only threat to Sammie’s life is Remmick himself. Stop thinkin’ about that.
But he can’t stop. Under the hazy veil of his heat, the things Sammie found frightening about Remmick—his deceptive charm, his persistent approach, the possessive way he held Sammie in his arms—are now desirable. His instincts are influencing him worse than they ever have. Remmick broke him that night, changed Sammie into something empty and insatiable without even putting his fangs to Sammie’s neck.
His eyes fly open, focuses on the steepled rafters above as a distraction.
I hate this.
Hates that Remmick did this to him and isn’t even around to take responsibility.
He pursued Sammie so intently in a way no one ever has before. Even after Sammie hit him with everything he had when he swung his guitar, Remmick had only pulled the metal out of his skull and kept on advancing, kept on trying to seduce Sammie with the lure of making beautiful music together. The memory makes heat pulse in his belly, makes Sammie’s entire body shudder.
His breath coming in quick bursts, Sammie turns over on to his side. Why was Remmick so persistent that one random night but is now acting as if Sammie doesn’t exist? Why hasn’t Remmick spoken to Sammie since their time in the river? He too good for me? Sammie thinks, mouth twisting into a frown at the unbidden thought.
Sammie no, Mary makes a sympathetic noise. He wants to…
Stack’s voice, delayed by some unexpected hesitation. …If you want him to talk to ya, talk to him first.
That’s how I got you back. Right baby? Mary responds, her voice laced with flirtation.
Yeah, that’s right. Gotta be direct.
“I ain’t ask all that.” Sammie groans. Turning over onto his side, he shuts his eyes tightly and tries once again to let the storm lull him to sleep.
He’s finally, finally just drifting off when a flash of lighting and it’s trailing rumble of thunder jolt him right back to being awake. After what couldn’t have been more than an hour, Sammie’s heat is somehow even worse. His pulse is racing and he thinks he has a fever. His cunt throbs in between his legs, leaking slick for the monster Sammie despises.
He slides his hand beneath his waistline, then stops. It feels uncomfortable. Aside from Remmick, he only ever feels turned on when he’s thinking of Pearline—and that reminds him that she’s still hanging around the juke. Makes him think about how she never would’ve gotten turned, if it weren’t for him.
Sammie pulls his hand back up. He rolls back over onto his other side, breathing heavily. Another terrible cramp wracks his lower body, pain shooting down Sammie’s thighs.
Why’s this happenin’ to me?
Sammie has never needed anything more than he needs to be filled right now. Not just with something but someone. The worst alpha possible.
Remmick has taken nearly everything Sammie loves. And yet he’s the only thing Sammie can think about right now, the only person living or dead that he wants by his side.
Talk to him first. Stack had said.
Trembling, Sammie whimpers into his fist. He shouldn’t. He doesn’t need relief that badly. He’s fine on his own—
A second cramp hits, worse than the last. He presses a hand to his abdomen and bites his lip.
Sammie makes up his mind.
“Remmick.” He whispers into the dark.
Silence.
And then, a little louder but no less shaky. “R-- Remmick.”
A rumble of thunder. And not five seconds later, the devil from his nightmares appears at the doorway. Shadowed with the storm at his back, water misting his hair, sliding down his face as he catches himself on the doorframe of the church.
The sight of him makes Sammie’s scent glands pulse, makes his body warm all over. His breath catches in his throat. Remmick looks—
--like he did the first time Sammie laid eyes on him. Pale and unnerving but with a charm to his movements and in his dopey handsome face. Not like the last time, after Sammie had slammed a steel plate through his head. Nothing like how he looked then. Monstrous, covered in blood, burning up in the rising Delta sun as he moved like a bat out of hell back to the shore and over to the shade of the tree line.
Now, Remmick doesn’t have a scratch on him. He looks regular, except for the fact that he’s only in trousers and an undershirt, damp with rain and slightly pink around the collar.
Not one mark from me. Sammie thinks, unexpectedly irritated by the sight. Meanwhile the shape of Remmick’s claws are forever etched into Sammie’s face.
“Sammie.” Remmick’s voice echoes across the church with all the decorum of a steam engine announcing its arrival. “You don’t know how long I been waitin’ for you to—”
“Hold up.” Sammie interrupts, his voice hoarse from disuse. If there’s one thing Annie taught him, it’s that he needs to stay in control as long as possible. Even if he winds up doing something incredibly foolish in the end. “I ain’t gon’ let you just waltz up in here.”
Though—it’s not like Sammie had thought this far ahead. He hadn’t known it would actually work, calling the vampire to him. Didn’t think that after a month of silence Remmick would simply appear the moment Sammie uttered his name.
The sight of Remmick braced at the doorway, chest heaving, ready to come in and give Sammie everything he needs does something to his omega hindbrain. Something filthy.
“Right, right. O’ course.” Remmick swallows. He seems to be having some difficulty getting himself together, sniffing the air like a hound that caught a scent. “Aye, forgive me. I know ye haven’t-- you ain’t really been too keen on seein’ me.”
“How you figure that?” Sammie responds, as dry as he can manage with his pussy throbbing at the mere sight and sound of the creature before him.
“Wasn’t as polite as I coulda been last time, huh?” Remmick offers a sheepish, lopsided grin. Sammie has to remind himself that he’s looking at a murderer. A vampire. “But I knew you were in pain… couldn’t bear to make it worse.”
“Don’t believe you.” Sammie manages.
“It’s the truth. I-- I tried to stay away from ya, Sammie.” Remmick says, sounding contrite and humble. Sammie knows he’s anything but, though some part of him still can’t help but think the creature is being genuine. “Lord knows I tried. But I can’t anymore, not with you cryin’ out to me like that…”
His eyes trail up Sammie’s body, eyeing the way his bare knees tremble delicately, pointed towards the church rafters. “Y’need an alpha, sweetheart, and the only one you called for is me.”
That’s… undeniable. It’s entirely fact, and yet Sammie feels blindsided by Remmick speaking it out loud. What does it say about him, the preacher’s boy whose heat can only be satisfied by an alpha who is both undead and unhinged?
What am I doin’?
“I know you’re hurtin’… I can feel it.” Remmick gives him a sympathetic look from behind rows and rows of church pews. “I only wanna help ya.”
“Help me by telling me the truth.” Sammie scrubs at his overheated face. “What did y’do to me?”
Remmick raises his hands defensively. “Nothin.’ I promise, sweetheart. I swear it.”
“You did somethin.’” Sammie licks his dry lips. Remmick follows the movement with a smoldering look in his eyes. “I ain’t never felt like this before. During my heat.”
“That’s cause we ain’t never met before this summer. But when we did…” Remmick sighs, swaying against the doorframe, reminiscing about the worst night of Sammie’s life as if it were a romantic first date. “S’bigger than the both of us, I told you that. You need me just as bad as I need you.”
Sammie knows his heat must be scrambling his brain. He knows because everything Remmick is saying sounds more convincing than when he said it the last time. The omega’s head swims. Everything feels too hot, too humid, but for some reason Sammie knows deeply that Remmick has the ability to make it all better.
“Can smell how bad you need me.” Remmick says softly. Rain beats against his back, illuminating the vampire’s frame with a halo of moonlight. “Could hear it too, all this time. Your family… Stack n’ Mary.”
Sammie’s mouth twists into a frown at the mention of them. They ain’t my family, he wants to say.
Remmick continues, rubbing the back of his neck. “They said I should… ease up a bit. Be a little patient. You know.”
And that’s what finally gets a real reaction out of Sammie.
An unexpected bark of laughter bursts from deep within his gut, the first in a month.
Remmick, patient? Sammie can’t help but chuckle again.
“Made you laugh.” A wide, genuine smile stretches across the vampire’s face. “So I did a good job, you reckon? Bein’ patient?”
“Ain’t nothing good about you.” Sammie counters.
“Yeah.” Remmick drawls. “It’s why I need ya so badly. So much good in ya, it makes me dizzy.”
So much good in Sammie. But it never does any good for him in the end.
So maybe you should just give in.
Sammie doesn’t know where the thought comes from. It has to be from Stack or Mary. No way it’s from his own brain.
“Haven’t stopped thinkin’ about ya.” Remmick murmurs. Another flash of lightning illuminates the vampire’s face; longing written openly across the surface. Sammie feels his heartbeat quicken. “Not once. You in so much pain, Sammie.”
“Cause of you.” Sammie insists. “Cause of what you did.”
“Don’t mean I can’t help a little.” Remmick puts his hands together, pleading. “I’ll be so gentle with you, darlin.’ Make you forget everything but me.”
“Tryin’ to forget you too.” Sammie croaks.
“You’ll never forget me after tonight.” Remmick promises.
Fuck. Sammie squeezes his legs together tightly. The declaration sounds downright sinful, one that makes his body hum with desire.
Sammie wants this. He doesn’t want to want this, but his purring hindbrain has gone into overdrive at the sight of an alpha who had pledged so openly to give him what he needs. Sammie feels like he’s going insane. He was lucky enough to escape Remmick’s bite the first time, so why is he giving the vampire another opportunity to turn him?
Because I’m out of my mind, Sammie thinks, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes until he sees sparks.
“Sammie…” Remmick pleads.
Sammie’s hands fall to his sides in surrender.
Forgive me.
“C’mon in, then.”
The words are barely out of his mouth before Remmick scrambles through the doorway, tripping on himself and falling to the floor. Undeterred, he half crawls-half runs the rest of the way down the aisle like some sort of eager baby foal.
Sammie can’t believe this clumsy oaf is responsible for so many of his nightmares. But then Remmick moves like a shadow up the length of his body and cages him in before the omega has the chance to change his mind. He looms over Sammie, the expression on his face hungry like a beast, like a devil, like no normal man should ever look. And Sammie remembers.
Fear and something else rises in his chest. What the hell am I doin’? Sammie thinks, even as he makes room for Remmick to settle in between his legs.
“Sammie…” Remmick’s voice is soft and reverent, despite the hunger in his gaze. He touches Sammie gently, a rough hand cupping the scarred-up side of his face. “Look just as gorgeous as the first time I saw ya.”
He lowers his head and Sammie, eyes wide, realizes that Remmick is about to kiss him.
“Don’t.” Sammie stops the vampire with a hand pressed firmly to his chest, even as warmth pulses in his abdomen. He doesn’t want to be complimented by the monster that destroyed his life. Doesn’t want to be called gorgeous when Remmick’s claws ruined his face forever. “Just… get it over with.”
Hurt flashes in Remmick’s eyes. “You sayin’ I can’t take my time?” He asks, stroking Sammie’s cheek with his thumb. “You know how tasty you look, layin’ under me?”
“No. I don’t care.” Sammie says. It’s not like he called Remmick here so the vampire could enjoy himself. His face burns with embarrassment. “Just… mount me.” Whatever alphas did to help omegas with their heat, that’s all he wants. Nothing more. “Hurry up n’ make it better.”
Remmick drops his hand from Sammie’s face with a sigh that has no right to sound so deeply disappointed. Tone sullen, he grazes Sammie’s hip and tugs at the waistband of his shorts. “Take these off for me, then.”
Despite his trepidations, the omega in Sammie makes him hurry to follow the direction. He shimmies his pants down his legs until he’s bare from the waist down, trying to pretend that obeying the alpha doesn’t feel as good as it does.
Remmick’s jaw locks tight at the sight of Sammie partially unclothed. The vampire reaches out, trailing a reverent hand up Sammie’s bare leg. His cool touch feels good against Sammie’s skin but does nothing to quell the heat broiling inside of him. Drool seeps out from the corner of Remmick’s lip as he runs his touch higher, rucking up Sammie’s sleep shirt until it lays bunched up tight just under his armpits.
The curve of Sammie’s waist and the shadow of his pecs revealed, Remmick stares at the sight as if he’s never seen anything so appetizing in his life.
“Stop starin.’” Sammie swats his hand away, his cheeks burning. “Hurry the hell up.”
With a resigned look on his face, Remmick sits back on his heels and unbuttons his trousers. He draws down the zipper as Sammie tries his best to look anywhere else.
When Remmick pulls out his cock it’s already hard, throbbing like he’s been aching for this moment. Sammie is-- annoyed by how big it is. He wants to close his eyes so he doesn’t have to watch, but something about the sight of Remmick holding his own arousal in hand, ready to fill Sammie up with it, makes Sammie’s internal omega whine and shudder. He doesn’t want to look away.
“D-do it.”
He hears Remmick suck in a breath, feels Remmick’s cockhead push at his entrance and—Sammie winces. It doesn’t go in. He’s wet, unbearably so, but he’s never… this will be the first time he’s ever been taken. He knows that it’s supposed to hurt a bit, but not like this. At least that’s what Stack said.
Remmick’s eyes flicker upwards at Sammie’s discomfort, and he pauses; drool leaks from his mouth and he cups his hand beneath it, uses it to coat his length before trying once more to push it inside. Sammie’s face twists up in disgust. He hates this revolting creature, hates that he got wetter at the sight.
Still, all that slick and drool isn’t enough to get him to open up. Remmick is just too big. Why the hell does he have to be big? Sammie laments. It must be another punishment from the lord, personalized just for him.
“Shit. S’too tight.” Remmick says, a strain to his voice like he’s holding back. “Relax for me.”
“Can’t relax around the devil.” Sammie huffs out.
“Aw, honey. You still on that?” Remmick gives him a heartbroken look. His cock, as insistent as the rest of him, drags against his clit before pushing a little more against his entrance. It feels good-- his body likes it, but Sammie’s nerves just won’t allow him to loosen up.
Let Remmick help you, baby.
He knows what he’s doing, cuz. He can make you feel good.
“Shut up!” Sammie yelps, mortified. His hands fly to cover his face in humiliation. He curls into himself, knees pressing together and forcing Remmick to ease back. The last thing Sammie needs is Stack and Mary vouching for Remmick’s sexual prowess in his mind. He looks towards the vampire wildly. “Make ‘em go away.”
Remmick closes his eyes. In a moment, it feels like a window in Sammie’s brain closes gently. When Remmick re-opens them there’s a red fog that quickly clears as he focuses his attention back on Sammie. “Better?”
“Hardly.” Sammie lets out a breath, refusing to thank the vampire for fixing something he was responsible for in the first place.
“Sweetheart.” Remmick drags his hands, deceptively human-looking, down the sleeves of Sammie’s loose shirt. “You too wound up. C’mon, lemme try somethin’ different.”
Remmick shifts back a little, creating enough space for him to lift Sammie’s legs up and drape them on his shoulders. Sammie cautiously lets Remmick maneuver him in the dark. When Sammie’s knees touch the vampire’s ears, that somehow feels more indecent than everything they’ve done so far. Even more indecent than his pussy exposed to Remmick’s hungry gaze.
“Been around a long time.” Remmick murmurs. “Didn’t hafta worry about instincts after turnin,’ but… I know a little somethin’ about omegas.”
Huh?!
Sammie’s scent sours immediately. He doesn’t want to react, doesn’t think Remmick’s experience should have any affect on him at all but the next thing Sammie knows he is scratching and hissing at the alpha. “You wanna talk about other omegas when we’re—"
“Don’t be like that, baby.” Remmick laughs, catching his wrists and pinning them to the floorboards. “They was all just practice for you. For this.”
Sammie can’t believe a word Remmick says. He hates this vampire. So tactless on top of everything else. Comes when Sammie calls but can’t even fit it in, can’t put his annoyingly big dick where Sammie really needs it--
And then Remmick leans down and licks into the folds of Sammie’s pussy, long and slow.
“Mmph--!” Sammie clasps a hand over his mouth.
He forgets why he was upset in an instant. Remmick’s tongue gathers up the slick pooling against his hole and slurps it up, barely tasting it before the vampire dives back in for some more. He feasts upon Sammie’s cunt. Every part of Sammie’s pussy feels the brush of that tongue, chasing his juices from every crevice. Remmick is relentless, eating Sammie out, bucking his hips and moaning pathetically with every taste.
“O-Oh, God—"
Sammie’s toes curl in the air behind Remmick’s ears. Remmick’s blunted fingers overcome the resistance and bully into Sammie’s cunt, testing the give, getting them slick before dragging them in and out. Sammie feels like he’s floating. He wants to grab Remmick’s hair but he manages to hold himself back, his fingers curling above his head instead.
The floorboards are already soaked with the proof of their sin. Raindrops beat a staccato rhythm against the roof of the church.
Remmick fingers him slowly, slurping around his clit as he strokes Sammie’s walls, stretching him out. Sammie feels like he’s sinking into the ground, his body rocked by soft waves of pleasure. He can’t believe how good he feels, clenching down on Remmick’s fingers despite knowing just how dangerous they could be.
“HAhh—ahhh…"
Remmick sucks on his clit, red eyes flickering up to pin Sammie in place with a look of molten desire. With a loud whine, Sammie arches like a bow and cums, shaking apart atop the scraps and tablecloths. His voice echoes like a hymn against the church ceiling.
Remmick slides his fingers out, sitting up slowly so Sammie’s legs can fall gently to the floor.
“Made ya sing, too.” Remmick casually licks Sammie’s slick from his digits, moaning at the taste. Sammie can’t do anything but stare, wide-eyed, his body thrumming with endorphins. “First time you sang since the grand openin,’ yeah?” He drops his hand and tosses Sammie a grin, casual as anything, and then hikes the omega’s legs securely around his waist. “It’s like I told ya, Sammie. We need each other.”
Remmick’s cock feels impossibly hard where it brushes against Sammie’s pussy once more. Remmick sucks in a breath as he slides through the slick leaking from Sammie’s core. Sammie is more than overwhelmed. He came so hard he must have floated out of his mind, because Sammie is starting to think that maybe Remmick might be right.
God help me.
The head of Remmick’s cock catches against his clit, making Sammie shudder. Well, what’s the sense in dwelling on the long-term right now? Especially since Sammie is still aching inside and needs Remmick right now, needs him to stick it in and stop teasing already.
“You gotta—try again.” Sammie moans. “Hurry. Put it in again.”
“Sammie.”
If the omega was trying to get Remmick to calm down, it was the wrong thing to say. His hips are yanked up again. Eyes blazing, Remmick drools freely as he lines himself up, snug and intimate against Sammie’s slit.
“Wanted to turn ya, to be your sire…” Remmick purrs. His face is shiny with drool and spit, skin so wet it almost looks like he’s sweating. The way he’s panting, the way his eyes burn across Sammie’s skin—Remmick looks alive. Sammie hates that he wants him so badly. “…but ’m good for this, too. Gonna be your alpha instead.”
The thought makes something clench in Sammie’s heart, a feeling of longing and hope and please please please. It sounds so good, it sounds so right to him-- that after everything Sammie’s gone through, at least in the end he got himself an alpha to take care of him.
It’s easier this time. They both groan as the head slides inside. Remmick braces his arms on either side of Sammie’s shoulders, parting his folds with a guttural noise. There’s a red sheen to his eyes as they flicker up towards Sammie, lower lip caught between his teeth.
Sammie’s heart pounds frantically in his chest. Something compels him to reach out to Remmick. So he does, raising a shaky arm to hook around the vampire’s neck. Remmick’s eyelids flutter as he tilts his head, kissing the skin near the inside of Sammie’s elbow.
“That’s it, Sammie…” Remmick murmurs as he sinks the rest of the way inside. “…that’s it, let me in baby…”
The air in the church is hotter than ever. Sammie’s breath comes out in humid bursts, sweat beading at his temples and sliding down his face. Remmick is all the way in, claiming the deepest part of Sammie’s cunt like it was always his to begin with. Sammie feels so full. He never thought it would feel like this, that Remmick would make him feel like this.
“There ya go, sugar.” Remmick purrs, breathless from his own desire. “That’s what you needed, right?”
Sammie outright sobs, the pleasure so intense he doesn’t know if he can ever live without it. Remmick begins to move, moaning openmouthed as he fucks Sammie measured and deep. Sammie can’t do anything but whimper and hold on, his nails digging into the skin on Remmick’s neck.
It’s incredible. The feeling of Remmick moving inside him, soothing his need with every ridge of his cock—it’s amazing. It shouldn’t be, but it is.
Sammie isn’t supposed to like it, isn’t supposed to be spreading his legs for such a monster like Remmick in the first place. He had sworn on his father’s bible that he had turned away from sin. And yet here he is, welcoming sin deeper than he’d ever welcomed the light.
And the worst part is Sammie doesn’t just like it. He loves it.
His hips meet every thrust, chasing after another orgasm while he still trembles with the aftershocks of the first one. Remmick coos and whispers to him, and Sammie can’t help but respond with answering whines of his own. He realizes that for the first time in ages his brain is quiet—no voices, no memories-- nothing but shocks of pleasure and passion easing the fog of his heat.
Their voices weave together in a song-- soft hisses from Remmick, soft whines from Sammie. Sammie can hear his own pussy gushing and it makes him feel filthy. He clenches down on the next stroke, gasping as his orgasm hits him like a train. Euphoria rings through Sammie’s body, vibrating his very soul. An unbidden name falls from his lips. “Remmick!” He cries, clutching onto the vampire for dear life.
Remmick stares, his jaw slack. Then he loses it. Sammie makes a weak noise as Remmick grabs Sammie’s hips, pulling him fully into his lap before bracing one arm on the floor and pounding into Sammie with animalistic abandon.
“So good, darlin’, thank you.” Remmick moans, rolling his hips into Sammie’s soaking wet heat. His chain taps against Sammie’s chin with every thrust. “Thank you for letting me in, thank you for givin’ yourself to me like this…”
Sammie’s second orgasm seems to have opened the floodgates. Remmick starts rambling, sharing his uninhibited thoughts, spurred on by the feeling of Sammie’s cunt fluttering around him.
“Wanna hear ya sing for me for the rest of our lives.” Remmick murmurs. He’s drooling uncontrollably, his cock pumping in and out of Sammie’s pussy in a way that’s making Sammie see stars. “Wanna make love to ya like this every night…”
Sammie’s heart clenches. If he were in his right mind he’d say something like who the hell told you we were making love!? But in the state he’s in Sammie very nearly voices an agreement-- and his body explicitly does, with the way his legs instinctively wrap tighter around Remmick’s waist.
“Wanna drink from you.” Remmick’s voice lowers to something gravely, feral. His hips stutter as half-lidded eyes gaze at Sammie’s throat like it’s a tender cut of steak. “Show you how good it feels, fuck—"
Sammie closes his eyes, delirious. Remmick’s scent is ravenous. Hunger threatens to consume Sammie, if it hasn’t already.
“Can I do that, baby? Can I drink from you, please?” Remmick begs. “Won’t try to turn ya, swear it. Just a lil’ taste…”
Despite the ache in his scent glands, Sammie would be a fool to say yes. He should have more sense than that. If Remmick gets his fangs near Sammie’s neck there’s nothing stopping him from turning the omega this time.
But the more Remmick fucks him, the more Sammie thinks that this time it might be okay, that if Remmick wants to drink from him and maybe turn Sammie then that would be okay with him, with how good he’s feeling.
A growing part of Sammie wants to be good for Remmick, give him anything he wants. Sammie knows it’s his instincts making him feel this way, making him let his guard down around such a dangerous alpha, but—
I… I don’t think he’ll really hurt me.
His thoughts are interrupted when the vampire delivers a deliciously sinful stroke, hitting a spot inside of him that actually does makes Sammie want to sing just for Remmick, forever. Sammie whines. He feels so good but he wants—he wants Remmick to feel good too.
And so he—he can’t help himself.
Sammie gives in. He closes his eyes and tips his head back, baring the unmarked column of his neck.
Lord forgive me.
Remmick makes an eager, unrestrained noise above him. His claws grow, pinning Sammie tightly in place without giving it a second thought.
“Oh, Sammie…” Remmick’s voice deepens, an unholy quality underlying the purr of Sammie’s name. Sammie can feel the vampire lean in, can feel Remmick’s hot humid breath ghost against his throat.
But when Remmick’s fangs are just an inch away from Sammie’s neck, there’s an unexpected burst of gold light. Remmick makes a pained noise, reeling back. Fingers hover over the steaming gash on his upper lip.
The spark makes Sammie open his eyes. Panting, he blinks up at Remmick and Remmick stares back, wide-eyed.
The events of that night at the juke joint weren’t a fluke.
Sammie feels a rare burst of clarity. He really can’t turn me.
“I want—” Remmick looks agonized. “Sammie, Sammie please.”
“It ain’t me.” Sammie moans. “It’s—”
--Something bigger than the both of us.
Sammie’s eyes shine, a feeling of empowerment rising up within as Remmick continues to fuck him, despite wearing the expression of a rejected puppy. Blood drips from Remmick’s lip and onto Sammie’s. Without thinking, Sammie swipes his tongue and licks it up. Remmick whimpers and lunges down, but stops himself at the last minute, still wary of the unexplainable gold barrier that seems to be protecting the omega.
Sammie doesn’t want Remmick to hold back. Now that he knows Remmick can’t turn him, Sammie doesn’t have to stay on guard. He can fully let go.
Sammie meets Remmick’s eyes. Then he threads his hand in Remmick’s hair and pulls him into a soft kiss.
The next thing he knows, Remmick is kissing him back near-violently, chasing the blood with a single-minded intensity. Sammie’s answering gasp is swallowed by Remmick’s mouth.
“Sammie…” Remmick slurs, eyes hazy and red. One of his fangs catch at the center of Sammie’s lip and to both of their surprise it is able to pierce the tender skin, causing more blood to well up. Remmick licks it up desperately, moaning deep in his chest.
They kiss deeply, sloppily. Sammie feels like he’s under a spell. He feels like he’s been torturing himself for nothing these last few weeks, if he could’ve called out to Remmick and had him come thoroughly defile him a long time ago.
Remmick pulls out, lets his mouth hang open as he drools openly on his cock. Sammie finds himself helping the vampire smear it down the shaft and knows then that he’s completely ruined, knows that he can never again be a part of his church’s flock after allowing a rabid vampire fuck him like this in front of the pulpit. Remmick’s breath is haggard as he slides back inside like he owns it, hitting every place Sammie wants him to.
Each thrust feels like it taps Sammie in his throat. Remmick fucks him hard and deep, whispering sweet nothings across the bow of his lips. His thumb catches on Sammie’s clit, rubbing it in sloppy circles and sending waves of pleasure rolling through Sammie’s body.
The indescribable pleasure builds and builds inside him until Sammie is arching again, his body shaking violently as he clenches around Remmick’s cock with a final explosive orgasm. Remmick makes a guttural noise, looking just as wrecked as Sammie feels. He kisses Sammie through it as his thrusts become frantic and uneven.
“M’cumming, gorgeous.” Remmick pants. Sammie can’t speak so he nods, his eyes half-lidded, mouth open, encouraging him. “Fffucckk. Thank you, Sammie, thank you so much…”
Remmick’s knot locks tightly within him, making Sammie keen. Remmick cums deep inside him, hips stuttering as he groans against Sammie’s neck. Sammie can feel his release warming him from the inside, sating him in a way he’s never felt before.
Remmick plugged him up good, and now the vampire turns him onto his side and wraps him up tight in his arms. Sammie’s face is pressed to Remmick’s chest. His cold skin feels good against Sammie’s warm cheek. Sammie’s heart beats loud enough to make up for the absence of Remmick’s own.
As Sammie’s breathing evens out, he finally, finally acknowledges that… he likes this. Not just the vigorous and thorough sating of his heat, but simply sharing the afterglow with Remmick as they come down together.
Because for the first time since they met, Remmick isn’t trying to take something from Sammie. Instead he’s giving—his warm seed, his big knot, his gentle kisses and cuddles.
Sammie wants it again. He hates that he wants it again, with a creature like Remmick. And he can’t help but ask why--
“—Why’d you come when I called you?” Sammie whispers into the silent cavern of Remmick’s chest, scarred and freckled like a human’s would be. Remmick hums, kissing the crown of his head.
“Cuz I need ya, Sammie. That voice, your body, your scent… makes me feel alive for the first time in centuries.”
Remmick noses along Sammie’s jaw, inhaling deeply. His voice is raspy when he says,
“I know you feel it too, darlin’.”
Sammie does. It’s the most frightening thing he’s ever felt.
“Even if…” Sammie feels the barest hint of Remmick’s fangs against the side of his neck before a veil of shimmering gold vibrates around his shoulders. Remmick sighs, resigned. Sammie feels the press of lips against his skin instead. “…even if I can’t never turn you, I’m keepin’ you. Ain’t lettin’ you get away from me this time.”
Sounds just fine to me.
Sammie swears he only thinks it, but Remmick grins wide and toothy in response. The omega is too tired to overthink it. Remmick might piss him the hell off, but he also makes Sammie feel good. Safe, even.
A quarter of an hour passes. Drifting asleep, Sammie winces as Remmick finally pulls out. His legs are raised and Remmick licks up the mess on his thighs and his mound until Sammie pushes him away, oversensitive.
He drifts again. After a while Sammie becomes cognizant of the fact that Remmick isn’t moving. He cracks an eye open and finds Remmick staring down at Sammie’s abdomen with a strange, awestruck look on his face. One pale, broad hand reaches down, tenderly stroking his fingertips across the soft skin of Sammie’s belly.
“Huh.” Remmick breathes. “Didn’t think I could still do that.”
“Do what?” Sammie asks sleepily.
“Shh.”
Remmick leans down and kisses him, pressing a gentle smile against Sammie’s lips.
The storm outside has receded, leaving only a light pitter patter of raindrops in its wake. Sammie drifts in and out of sleep as Remmick manages to get Sammie’s pants back up around his waist despite how limp the omega is.
He makes a noise of protest when Remmick gathers his weak body up in his arms, lifting him up off the floor. Remmick rises to his feet in the middle of the church, adjusting his hold on Sammie. Sammie leans against him instinctively.
“Good boy. My sweet lil’ songbird. C’mon, birdy.” Remmick coos. “Wrap your arms around me.”
Sammie loops his arms around Remmick’s neck. “Where we goin?”
“Back to the Juke Joint.” Remmick’s lips graze his ear. “Where your—where our family is.”
Sammie can’t bring himself to argue anymore.
Remmick turns towards the exit, leaving Sammie’s sparse nest and stains of release behind. Evidence of what happened in the church tonight, so Sammie’s family can at least have an idea of what took Sammie away. What won’t ever be giving him back.
He steps outside, tucking Sammie under his chin protectively. Sammie feels the lightest of raindrops against his skin, but he doesn’t pay them any mind. Remmick adjusts his weight, and Sammie feels a strange swooping motion in his stomach as the vampire prepares for something. He clutches onto Remmick tighter.
“Got a bed ready for you n’ everything.” Remmick presses a soft kiss to his temple. “Just in case you… y’know. In case you ever came ‘round.”
“Izzat so?” Sammie yawns, his eyes falling shut once more as he rests his head on Remmick’s chest. A bed sounds amazing right about now. He’s a good alpha.
There’s a rush of air against his body, a whoosh in his ears and the sensation of being farther above the earth than he ever thought possible. Sammie realizes distantly that they’re flying. He’s flying, for real.
Sammie curls up against Remmick and finally falls asleep.