The Vampire's Last Omega

Into the Darkness: Part 2

A manicured finger twitched. 

Blaise's head bubbled, inflating from within to cook new bones and brains. Lucas was awed, watching his nose break into place, fresh skin sewing torn lips, and eyes that were previously hanging by fleshy threads rewinding into their sockets.

Because of his mashed lungs, Blaise's shallow breaths were strained. He looked around in confusion. His irises were crimson, severely blood-deprived.

"Lasagna," he cried when spotting his virtue.

Lucas could only say one word. It was a nickname he had thought of a while ago to call Blaise, wanting to match the offensive pasta title. "Meatball."

"Meatball," Blaise snorted with a hurt smile, unable to hide the agony of having tons of weight crushing his legs like an ant. "You're not funny at all."

"You're laughing."

"I'm laughing because you are the least funny mortal to ever exist." 

Still, the two chuckled. Blaise wiggled, shifting the surrounding stones. "I can't heal properly because half of my heart is a mess."

Lucas wasted no time. He helped remove any rocks he could lift. Blaise squirmed out. From mid-chest to his feet, everything was flat and mutilated. Thankfully, his heart wasn't totally affected; a vampire could survive anything if their heart could still beat, even if it was merely a little bit.

As soon as the weight was gone, his ribs and lungs crunched and cracked to their original position. Blaise hissed, clutching his chest. "How unpleasant. Too slow. How did Kieran manage to live like this for centuries?"

As Blaise stood there complaining while his body mended the damage, Lucas also winced because of his left wrist. It was swollen and beginning to turn blue under the skin-

"Does it hurt?" a concerned voice asked in front of him.

Eh? Is he already fine?!

Blaise, in perfect health, gingerly touched the bruise to inspect it. He pressed at the wrist with utmost care. "It's sprained badly. What's with the rash? Did you have this earlier? And why do you have all these bloody welts on your body?! Tsk, don't let rocks fall on you, dummy! You are already like the walking dead."

Rather than listen to the scolding that sounded like blah, blah, blah to him, Lucas couldn't get over the unnaturalness of a bloodsucker's recovery. Seriously! No wonder humans never stood a chance against them!

The only indication that Blaise had been through hell was the dirt and bloodstains. Most of his face was missing makeup because of the newly grown skin and shredded clothes. His straight hair was disheveled. Blonde strands stuck to his lips, pouting that Lucas had new injuries.

THUMP.

Thump? Why was his heart flipping?

Anyway...

Seeing the prince like this, totally raw and messy, took Lucas's breath away.

I've never seen him so...wild.

Blaise leaned forward to stare into his eyes, twinkling with curiosity. "Well, well, well. Are you turned on? Under these circumstances? In this desolate place? Whenever I think I have you figured out, you prove me wrong again. Is filth and dirty your type?"

"T-that's-, I'm not-, No-," Lucas stammered.

"This guy tells me otherwise," Blaise growled, his deadly sin stimulated by the lustful aroma Lucas must've been giving off. His hand traveled down the human's stomach, inching his nails into Lucas's waistline. "The scent of lust doesn't lie, either. Heavy sweat and a smidge of plums? Bad boy. So immoral by this ratio."