Chapter Text
Alex is late.
He woke up this morning to the sound of the garbage truck plowing through his narrow street, startled with a yelp and tangled limbs thrashing in his sheets. Once he managed to sit up in his bed with a groan, his eyes struggled to blink open and adjust to the cloudy gloom of today’s morning, which—unholy shit, it’s light out already.
His heart dropped as he scrambled for his phone, lost in the folds of his sheets, whispering a fuckfuckfuckshitshit—until he found the phone, dead and buried by his feet.
A string of curses left his mouth as he ran around his tiny apartment after realizing he already missed his 8 AM class and was about to miss his 10 AM, picking up last night’s clothes from the floor (he hadn’t done laundry) and thrusting his notes and laptop back into his bag (he crashed after typing the entirety of his Cyber Law case analysis in five hours).
Alex is definitely aware of the irony of a literal demon spawn from Hell going to school to become a lawyer. The joke writes itself, really, when you consider all the mega-corporate lawyer douchebags who revel in the vile, immoral work of legally draining the bank accounts of hard-working citizens. But being stuck on Earth for the past 24 Human years and experiencing the true havoc the Big Evil Man has wreaked upon innocent mortals can really change a man. Well, change an incubus—which is what Alex is.
It’s not that complicated and definitely not as insanely monstrous as mythology makes him out to be. He simply is a demonic creature that feeds off the sexual energy of vulnerable men and women and can only truly continue existing by having sex. Again, it’s simple.
Except, well—he tries to ignore the fact that incubi can never truly be satisfied unless they drain their partner of their soul through the form of an Earth-shattering orgasm. He’s learned to swallow down his pride and pretend not to know how to get his partners to climax and live with a never-ending thirst for more and more and more. Besides, the bags under his eyes, the soreness in his muscles, and the ache at his core from never letting himself take advantage of a human being—from never letting himself truly act out on his nature—can all be excused by being a first-year law student. It’s basically written in stone to look on the brink of death.
And no—Alex doesn’t want to be defined by his whole “being a sex demon.” Doesn’t even want to be thought of as an asshole human. So, yeah, he’s in law school, studying to be a civil rights attorney. He recycles his trash and uses public transport instead of owning a car to save the Earth. He never lets the tap run.
He’s a good demon. And he’s running late.
Another yelp leaves his mouth as he steps out of his apartment, running out into rain and almost slipping on the wet front steps.
Alex is late, and it is raining.
A quick look up at the sky lets Alex know that he will be soaked all day, too, if he doesn’t use an umbrella.
So he decides he can be another two minutes late if he steps into the bodega that’s along the route to grab one.
The quick detour would have worked accordingly: he immediately spots a rack opposite the entrance as he dashes in, completely empty except for one blue umbrella underneath a big sign that reads $9.99.
Fuck yes, he internally sighs as he walks with a hand already extended out to grasp the handle.
When he reaches the rack, he immediately grabs the umbrella and pulls it off.
The moment of victory he basks in as it sits in his hand is ruined within a second, a short burst of pain shooting through his arm as it’s pulled away from his body. His hand almost slips from its grip, but the sight of a pale hand gripping the other end makes him instinctively tighten his fingers harder.
“Ow—” he hisses out as he brings his gaze up to the culprit of his pain.
It’s a man.
A tall man with blond hair, a brown coat that was slightly damp on the shoulders from the rain, and a furrowed set of eyebrows sat upon the most beautiful face Alex had seen. His eyes are strikingly blue and send a soft shiver down Alex’s spine. His lips are plump and red, with a slight downturn on the ends.
Alex wants to pounce on the man.
The man currently tugging the top of the umbrella away from Alex with a fussed look. Oh, right.
“Uh, can you let go?” Alex asks with a slight frown, tugging at the umbrella. The man doesn’t budge.
“Why? If I grabbed it first?” he responds, with a posh English accent.
Alex’s frown deepens at the absolute lie.
Hot British men shouldn’t be assholes. It ruins their whole vibe. They need to be polite, with pinkies permanently jutting out from their hands and a top hat perched on their heads at all times. This man—this drop-dead gorgeous man—is disrupting the balance of the universe.
He feels another tug, and his feet stumble a little at the strength of the pull. He still manages to keep his grip steady, but his own reciprocated tug barely manages to nudge the man closer. Alex’s left eye twitches in irritation.
“You absolutely did not,” Alex says.
The man quirks an eyebrow and shrugs in response, tugging and almost making Alex trip into him again.
Satan, this man is fucking strong. And extremely hot.
Actually, now that Alex is fully glaring at the man in front of him, he can see that he’s…uncomfortably too hot. There seem to be no blemishes scattered across his face, his nose is perfectly symmetrical, with lips that humans would most likely die for. His furrowed eyebrows are thick and perfectly trimmed. His hair looks like it was cut and styled within the last 30 minutes, even with the slight dampness of the rain perturbing the top. He’s literally perfect. It leaves a weird feeling in Alex’s stomach as he stares up at him.
The weird feeling intensifies when the man’s lips twitch into a slight smirk.
“You’re quite handsome.”
Alex’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“I—thank you,” he responds awkwardly. “I still need the umbrella.” He tugs to no avail.
The man’s smirk remains.
“It’s quite funny. So do I. This coat,” he shrugs his shoulders to indicate the apparel, “was quite an expensive purchase.”
His head lowers an inch closer to Alex, and his next sentences are said in a lower octave, words coming out slower with a slightly tantalizing drawl. There’s a twinkle in his eyes as he looks down at Alex.
“You can imagine how dreadfully awful it would be if I allowed it to get drenched in the rain today. That would be terrible, wouldn’t you agree?”
Alex is confused now. And a bit freaked out.
He’s…he’s doing the thing.
He’s using the voice.
There’s no denying that the tone in his voice has changed. It’s kind of like how an adult eases their tone when talking to a child. Or in Alex’s case, whenever he uses his Southern drawl and blinding smile to get what he wants from someone.
It’s a small perk of being an incubus. It’s meant to be used to lure his next victim, the special cadence in his voice activating the libido inside men and women alike—enough to make them ignore all precautions and follow Alex into his bedroom. But no one can fault him if he ends up using it at the grocery store when he’s short two bucks, or at the library when his study pod reservation ends and he’s only 2,000 words short on his assignment. Alex calls it his “pretty privilege” and finds nothing wrong with utilizing it.
Except now. When it’s being used against him.
And the thing is.
This man is not an incubus. Alex would absolutely know. His species is territorial (it took a while to find a law school he could actually attend outside of Austin without being bullied out by another incubus who has already settled there). He would have been able to immediately sniff the man out from 20 miles away. And he would have felt the sudden urge to fuck the closest living human to establish dominance (the cashier does not deserve that kind of rude treatment, thank you very much).
So here he is, absolutely befuddled by the man before him. Who is now quirking an eyebrow down at Alex with an amused look.
Alex has half a mind to realize he hasn’t responded.
He can’t even remember what the stranger asked.
“I guess,” he blanks.
The man’s nostrils flare a bit at Alex’s words. His sickly smile remains plastered as he continues.
“Darling, it seemed like you were in a hurry when you entered the store. Let’s get this settled so you can resume your timely duties, hm?” He tugs on the umbrella again, slower but strong enough to inch it towards himself. “I’ll take this off your hands. I’m sure anyone who sees you stuck in the rain will stop at nothing to get your handsome self nice and dry. No one wants your pretty face to be wet with the rain.”
Honest to Satan, Alex is not paying attention to a single word he’s saying.
Just the way he’s saying it.
How is he using the voice? Alex can clearly tell that’s what’s going on. He’s holding very direct eye contact to ensure Alex is feeling the full effect. His voice is becoming softer, trying to reach deeper into Alex’s vulnerability. It’s absolutely how Alex seduces his next victim. So what the fuck is he?
A soft touch of skin on his left cheek brings him out of his thoughts.
It startles him as he realizes the man has brought his free hand up to lightly caress Alex’s cheek. His mouth opens a smidge at the unwarranted gesture. The man opposite him grins at the reaction. It’s then that everything clicks for Alex.
“How does that sound, beautiful?” The man says, teeth on display.
It feels like a movie, the way Alex catches the bodega’s fluorescent lighting glistening off the slightly protruding fangs in the stranger’s mouth.
He’s—he’s a vampire.
Satan, he’s a vampire.
Edward 2.0 is standing right in front of him. A vampire, in the living flesh (well, unliving), is standing right in front of him, trying to mind control him.
And is now pinching Alex’s cheek and mumbling out with a smile, “Thank you, my love.”
He’s gone within a second.
It takes another second for Alex to realize he has a grin on his own face from his revelation. And one more second to realize his hand is no longer grasping the umbrella he desperately needs.
Shitshitshit—runs through Alex’s mind as he finally snaps out of every thought and remembers that he has class in 10 minutes. His eyes flutter towards the front counter, and can see Vampire Asshole tucking his change into his wallet, muttering a polite thanks to the cashier.
Alex doesn’t give himself time to gruel over the change in attitude to the cashier and whips out his own wallet, gripping a ten dollar bill in his hand. His shoes make a squeak against the tile floor as he speed walks towards the counter.
He makes his movement quick, ripping the umbrella out of Vampire Asshole’s hand and replacing it with the money. He hears a choked noise escape the man but ignores it and brings his attention to the cashier. Alex crinkles his nose at him as an apology for having to witness a technical robbery on his shift.
He’s halfway through the door with the umbrella ready to be opened when he finally looks back at the hot immortal stranger sporting a flabbergasted look. Alex breaks into a cocky grin.
“Sorry, sweetheart, but I hate the rain. I’m sure anyone would love to share an umbrella with a handsome man like you.”
Alex makes it to class with one minute to spare. He makes the girl sitting next to him giggle at a whispered joke, and she offers him her own umbrella at the end of class. He demonstrates his own when he politely declines.
He tries to ignore the satisfying feeling of connivery throughout the rest of the day.
But he can’t help it. It’s in his nature.