Prompt: There’s no place like home
Mitchell did not always notice his own weakness. The monster sometimes took over without him being aware. He could be halfway through a seduction with the intent to kill before he was even conscious of doing it. By then it was usually too late.
Since he had met Anders, things had changed. The change had not happened because of Mitchell, because the monster still took over from time to time. No, the changes had happened because Anders knew the signs.
Anders would claim tiredness or boredom when Mitchell started a hunt, causing them to go home.
Anders would convince potential victims to leave and find another place to drink before Mitchell could reach them.
Anders would seduce Mitchell before Mitchell could seduce somebody else, often ending in hurried trysts in the bathroom.
They did not talk about Anders’ interventions or Mitchell’s weakness. Or how successful they were.
Until tonight, in a full pub, after a long week.
“Don’t hunt. Just stay with me.” Anders voice broke through the red haze that had taken over Mitchell’s senses. His eyes had been drawn to a person across the room and he had followed their every move. Half a plan had already formed in his mind, but Anders’ sudden acknowledgement of their arrangement snapped him out of it.
“I wasn’t..” Mitchell started, ready to deny everything.
“Yes you were. Just stay here, drink another beer and go home with me at the end of the evening.”
Mitchell’s anger surfaced quickly, his fists clenching. Anders could not seriously think that a suggestion of a nice evening with Anders could rid him of the bloodlust that was an integral part of being a vampire?!
He waited for the bloodlust and hunting instinct to surface again, not even acknowledging Anders’ request. He searched for his previous target, ready to continue the hunt. He did not need Anders.
“Will you?” Anders prompted again. “Stay with me, I mean.”
Mitchell did not answer for several minutes. But the bloodlust did not return and he could not find his target anymore. A warm bed sounded more tempting than warm blood in a cold alley anyway.
“Sure.” Mitchell finally agreed. The hand squeezing his own almost felt as good as a feed. Almost.