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“I mean… you’re not that scary,” Guillermo mumbles, and Nandor’s head snaps around from his spot on the couch to shoot him a glare.
“Well then it’s good that no one is asking you whether or not I am scary, isn’t it Guillermo?” he practically hisses, and he already knows he’s going to be in trouble the second the cameras are gone.
“Fucking guy. What were we talking about again?”
Guillermo had been to a mixer. It had been for… charity? Quilt making? Celibacy? Raising money for something? He couldn’t remember honestly. One of a half dozen Facebook events he’d jotted down and decided to swing by while he was out grocery shopping. It never hurt to do some networking for virgins while he was out.
It wasn’t until three drinks in that he’d realized the punch was spiked, and by then he really didn’t give a shit. He was having an extremely uninteresting conversation with an extremely cute member of the Adult Improv for Jesus Jamboree when he’d realized it was well after dark.
Fuck.
A familiar mixture of guilt and worry had washed over him, numbed by the alcohol in his system.
Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. He’d have one or two more drinks and watch this dude’s soft lips move for just a little longer and maybe steal another handful of oreos off the folding table against the wall.
He’d arrived home to Nandor practically bristling, batting angrily at the inside of his coffin like a trapped cat, but refusing to open it himself. By the time they’d gotten out to their evening camera session, the fifth drink had settled happily into a haze over Guilermo’s thoughts.
When Guillermo had piped up, Nandor had been addressing how Laszlo had been sent to go mindwipe a woman who had caught Nandor chewing the neck out of a construction worker in the alleyway between two of the brick houses down the street. Of course, Laszlo wasn’t doing it because Nandor was bad at mindwiping. According to Nandor, he was just so horrifically scary and intimidating, it would be very difficult for the woman to pay attention to being mindwiped while he was there.
Guillermo stands at attention off to the side, chewing his lip. The camera crew had taken pity and hadn’t bothered him with any questions. All he’d had to do was keep his mouth shut. Whoops.
Guillermo keeps his eyes on a spot in the distance as Camera Two zooms in on him for an agonizingly long amount of time.
Thirty minutes later they're in Nandor’s room, and Guillermo is bracing himself for a scolding, pretending to adjust the candles perched on the shelving in the corner. Nandor is standing at his coffin, long fingers tapping lightly on the wooden lid. The camera crew has been shooed away to go follow Laszlo on his mission.
“So you do not think I am scary. Is this true Guillermo?”
“No, you’re very scary. So scary. I… can’t think of a scarier vampire,” Guillermo recites as if from a script.
The tarnished candle holder between his fingers makes an angry noise as he turns it, and he pulls away. When he looks up, Nandor has crossed the distance of the room and is leaning over him, corralling him into the corner. Guillermo starts, hands balling into tight fists at his stomach, as if he’s going to have a cartoon brawl with Nandor.
“Ah,” Nandor says simply, giving a toothy smile.
Guillermo watches the way his lips slip back to reveal his fangs. Even here there is something feral. Something ready and willing to take a life if needed. There is always hunger, isn’t there? Something to be satiated. Something to be fought for. What would Nandor fight for, if he was backed into a corner like this?
“Very scary.” Gullermo says flatly, raising his eyebrows. But he’s not scared. At least not in the way he knows Nandor wants him to be.
The lines that appear along Nandor’s nose and the corners of his mouth are what transform the smile to a true snarl. The dog baring their fangs in warning. Nandor is a fool, but he is not an idiot.
“I am not appreciating the sassiness, Gulilermo,” he warns. The low growl that accompanies the statement adds a surreal touch, and in his tipsy state Guillermo cannot stop himself from snorting.
He covers his mouth immediately, eyes watering as he turns to look anywhere but at Nandor. The nervous laughter spills from between his fingers, causing his shoulders to shake. Self preservation has left the building. Only giddy Guillermos here.
Fuck.
When Nandor flashes down and growls against this throat, some kind of instinct finally kicks in. Guillermo’s hands go to the front of his Master’s chest, curling into the fabric. Nandor is frozen like a statue, and it’s Guillermo’s own living, human movement that causes the light brush of Nandor’s beard and lips against the sensitive skin of his neck.
“Ah,” Nandor says again, and Guillermo can hear the satisfaction dripping from the single syllable.
Things have escalated so quickly, and Guillermo realizes that he’s very close to losing control of the situation. He readjusts, leaning back into the wall, and Nandor follows him, wrapping an arm around his waist to press closer. The dance of the hunter and their prey. How many times had he watched it from the sidelines?
“Say it,” Nandor whispers. The words pass across his skin in a staccato of air. Guillermo thinks he may faint.
“Make me,” Guillermo responds through a haze.
Nandor snarls, his free hand coming up to cup the side of Guillermo’s face, thumb brushing across his lips and cheek, smearing drool across his skin. Guillermo groans, tilting his face into the touch, exposing his throat in offering.
“You cannot fool me. I can hear your little heart going crazy Guillermo,” Nandor says, and Guillermo whines, low in his throat.
Guillermo attampts to give the slightest shake of his head, and Nandor has had enough. Without any further preamble, Nandor latches his fangs into Guillermo’s neck.
There had been a small part of Guillermo that had doubted Nandor would follow through, and he is completely overwhelmed. The pain is sudden and needle-sharp, quickly replaced with the rough probing of Nandor’s tongue and the strong, consistent suction of his lips.
Guillermo is trembling at the sensation, grasping desperately at Nandor, who is smirking against his skin as he pulls in long, hard draws.
“Ah- ah, Master,” Guillermo gasps, earning a satisfied purr from the vampire.
Nandor takes another hard pull before removing his fangs in one smooth, fluid motion. Guillermo gives a shaky breath that hitches when Nandor dips back in to give a long, broad lick to the weeping marks. The bleeding is already slowing, but they stay in this position for a little longer, Nandor lapping at Guillermo’s throat in small flicks of his tongue.
“So?” he rumbles, loosening his hold on Guillermo’s waist slowly to make sure he doesn’t fall.
“Very scary,” Guillermo breathes, and this time Nandor doesn’t seem to mind that he’s obviously lying.
Half an hour later and they’re both sitting on the couch when the camera crew follows Laszlo into the house. He gives them a small salute, the sign of a job well done, before heading up the stairs. Guillermo adjusts the collar of his shirt, and waves the cameras over.
“All right Guillermo, tell them what you told me,” Nandor prompts, a tipsy lilt to his voice that makes Guillermo smile.
“Master, you’re very scary. Terrifying even!” Guillermo says dutifully, eyes not leaving Nandor’s mouth.
“Thank you Guillermo. I’m very scary.”
Nandor grins at the camera in triumph. Guillermo gives a little giggle.
Camera One sighs and passes a five dollar bill to Camera Two.