Archive of Our Own

Rio had been dreading this day for decades. She’d tried avoiding it for as long as possible. Last week though, another group of teenagers had walked into the graveyard adjacent to her house. They were performing some kind of séance, trying to summon something from the afterlife. Probably a dead dog. It was always either a demon, a grandma, or a dead dog. They wouldn’t know a real supernatural being if it bit them in the throat, ironically enough.

The whole Satanic Panic thing that had been going on since the last decade didn’t help her situation. People were getting scared, which then made them angry, which in turn made them a big fucking problem for Rio.

It wasn’t even close to Halloween, either. Summer was around the corner, much to Rio’s dismay. It meant that while mortals’ days were getting longer, hers were getting shorter. It was not like she couldn’t be in the sun at all – the tales vampires immediately going up in flames as soon as they were hit with a single ray of sunshine were drastically overexaggerated. It was more that direct sunlight gave her a horrible migraine that lasted days. It meant that she did her shopping late in the evening, when the sun started to set.

Luckily her shopping list was usually quite short, and she and the local butcher – or rather, the current butcher’s great-great-grandfather – had struck a deal some time ago, ensuring she never ran out of supplies. She preferred the clean neutrality of animal blood now. No particular taste, no guilt. No temptation.

Sighing, Rio went to her closet, throwing pieces of clothing to the side until she found what she was looking for: a long, black dress, slightly worn at the edges. She had considered replacing it some hundred years ago – it smelled faintly of dust and was covered in splotches of dried blood, but she decided that just added to the message she was trying to convey. She only wore the dress on occasions like these, anyway.

To complete the look, she swished some blood around in her mouth, letting it dribble down the corners and putting some on her hands for good measure. It pained her to do so – not only was it wasteful, it was also just kind of unhygienic. She was already looking forward to the moment she could wash the sticky substance off her hands.

Time to go. It was late enough in the evening that she wouldn’t have to worry about the sun, but early enough that she knew she’d be able to gather an audience. She’d done her best to keep the town’s vampiric legend alive, and tonight she was going to see if her efforts had paid off.

When Rio walked up to the town square, she already heard some quiet whispers around her. Perfect. She waited until she was in the center of the square, where the late night shoppers and restaurant patrons could see her well.

Then, she grabbed one of the villagers off the street and dug her nails into his arm. She’d practiced this. Before he could even start to struggle, she looked into his eyes, making them flash red for just a brief moment.

“Citizens of Westview.”

Rio was looking into the crowd now. Her voiced was raised, but she didn’t shout. Instead, she made sure her tone was cold, calculated, daring anyone around her not to listen. Rio accompanied her words with a crazed smile, drawing attention to the dried blood on her chin. The crowd dissolved into hushed whispers.

“It’s her!”

“She’s real!”

“I thought Mrs. Hart had just made her up to scare us into doing our homework.”

Now came the hardest part. Waiting until a few more people had turned around, she sank her fangs into the neck of the man she’d willed to stand by her side. She was careful: she didn’t actually want to kill him.

The human blood felt foreign on her lips, and she hated the way something fluttered in her chest at the taste. As the first drop hit her tongue, she felt every muscle in her body tense. The first hints of desire were starting to course through her veins already, her body begging for more.

She hadn’t let herself drink human blood for over a century now. It unlocked something primal in her, in every vampire. She’d seen some of the most controlled vampires turn into bloodthirsty monsters at the taste, herself included.

Confident she’d made her point and unwilling to lose herself in the taste of human blood any further, she threw the man aside and let him crumple to the floor. He wouldn’t be able to feel a thing, she knew. It was almost harmless, really – Rio’s will would wear off in the morning, leaving him with a small headache and a bit of memory loss.

A crowd had now gathered around her. She could smell the fear rippling through the townsfolk. Time for the next part of her plan. She let the coldness seep into her voice again.

“Listen to me carefully. Over the past few years, many of you have broken my trust. The deal I made with your parents, grandparents even, has been ignored time and time again. In exchange for my privacy, I’ve let you live. I’ve turned elsewhere for my appetites…” Rio licked at the corner of her mouth so the crowd knew exactly what she was referring to. “… but it seems I’ve placed my trust in the wrong people. Over and over you’ve intruded upon my property, disturbing my peace. But no longer.”

Her gaze roamed over the crowd, letting her red eyes linger on the faces pale with fear.

“In exchange for your insolence, I will take one of your own with me, to satiate my hunger. Then, I will consider holding up my end of the deal again, as long as you keep up yours. So.” Rio’s voice dripped with practiced malice. “Who will it be?”

She looked at the crowd expectantly. There was some shuffling, some whispers, but no one came forward.

“Well? I’m waiting.”

More whispers as she spotted some faces in the crowd that were now streaked with tears. Mothers grasping their children by their hands, friends making silent promises to each other. Rio waited another moment. The whole thing was going exactly to plan.

“No one brave amongst you?” She paused, letting the moment linger. “Fine. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll spare you, out of the kindness of my heart. But if anyone dares to disturb my peace ever again–”

“I’ll come with you.”

Wait, what? Rio blinked. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

She had performed this little routine over a dozen times over the last few centuries. She would terrify the villagers, threatening to take one of their own. They’d cower in fear, and she would promise to spare them just this time if they left her alone for all eternity.

All eternity usually meant about three to five decades at most, at which point Rio would either move or go through the whole spiel again.

This time, someone had thrown a wrench in her plan.

The crowd parted, appearing equally surprised that someone had volunteered. Standing in the middle of a crowd was a young woman. If Rio were alive, she would guess she’d hardly be a decade older than her. As it was, she was certain she had a few hundred years on her.

The woman in question was wearing a short purple shirt, a white crop top, and sneakers. Rio had given up on trying to keep up with the latest fashion somewhere around the late 19^th century, but she had to admit that the clothes didn’t look terrible on her. Even if the amount of skin on display that was deemed appropriate in this decade still took some getting used to. The woman’s long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she met Rio’s gaze with the bluest eyes Rio had ever seen. For a second, Rio wondered what she would taste like. An effect of the blood she’d drank earlier, no doubt.

“Yep, I’ll come. Do I get to pack a bag, or is this sort of a ‘whisk me away immediately’ situation?”

Rio had to recover, quick. Just two sentences, and this woman had already managed to faze her beyond what anyone had managed in the past few decades. Rio had never wanted this to happen. She wasn’t going to drink from some human, and she certainly wasn’t going to take one home with her.

“Is this the decision you’ve come to, as a town? Speak up now, or forever hold your peace,” she singsonged, casting a look to the older woman standing next to her not-so-unwilling victim. Presumably the woman’s mother. Surely she would intervene, beg Rio to let her daughter stay?

The older woman was quiet for a moment, but the next words out of her mouth were cruel, distant. “If Agatha is willing to sacrifice herself for the safety of the town, who am I to stand in her way?”

“Gee, thanks for the support, mom.” The woman in the purple skirt – Agatha – seemed unsurprised by her mother’s response.

Well, that was it then. Rio had no choice but to take the woman with her. Though she could give her one last chance…

“Be here in two hours, ready to leave. If I don’t see you at exactly ten o’clock, bags packed and standing in this square, there’ll be consequences.”

If Agatha was smart, she’d run. She’d let the villagers think she’d gone with Rio, and Rio was happy to pretend that was the case to ensure her privacy for the coming few decades. She was counting on it. She didn’t want to see those piercing blue eyes again, didn’t want to decipher the look this woman had given her – something leaning much more towards curiosity than fear.

With that, Rio turned on her heel, not sparing the crowd or the woman a second glance.

---

Instead, when she returned to the square two hours later, Agatha was already waiting for her, sitting on her giant suitcase. For a second, Rio froze. The sight of Agatha just sitting there – lips glossed, legs crossed, completely unfazed – sent a strange thrum through her chest. Rio ignored it. Or tried to, at least.

“Are you sure you’ve packed enough?” she muttered instead, dryly.

“Baby, I don’t know how long you want to keep me around, but I don’t plan on celebrating Y2K in one of those musty gowns you’re wearing right now. Unless you’re gonna go shopping with me later, I’m bringing my whole closet.”

“Right.” Rio was lost. No part of her plan had actually included taking a victim home with her. “No one to see you off, then?” she said, trying to break the tension bubbling in her stomach.

“Nope,” Agatha said, popping the p. “Just you and me.”

The pop hit Rio like a spark. She turned her face away, as if it was still possible for a flush to appear on her cheeks.

“Right,” she said again, cursing inwardly. She’d avoided speaking to another person, human or vampire, for the last few decades, and now she was experiencing the consequences. “Follow me to my home.” Her commanding tone was undercut by Agatha grabbing the handle of her suitcase and whistling while she followed Rio out of town.

The walk up to Rio’s house was long. Normally, she’d cross the distance between her house and the town in mere minutes with her vampiric speed. Now, she had to walk the full half hour at a normal pace for Agatha to be able to keep up.

And Agatha, Rio quickly discovered, was a talker.

As soon as they crossed the edge of town, Agatha started asking Rio questions. How old she was, how long she’d lived in Westview, how many times a day she had to drink blood. Agatha’s tone was casual, but Rio could tell there was something calculated behind it. Like she was trying to figure Rio out, assess how much of a threat she really was.

Unfortunately for Rio, Agatha was also quite charming. She found herself wanting to answer Agatha’s questions, enjoying having someone to talk to for once. Well, someone who could respond, anyway. She talked to her plants pretty often.

Every time Agatha laughed, Rio felt her fangs ache – an old, unwelcome pull. She focused on the sound of the gravel underfoot instead, counting steps to distract herself.

“So Anne Rice was right, huh,” Agatha suddenly said after they’d been quiet for a while.

“What?” Rio looked at her in confusion. Who the hell was Anne Rice?

“That vampires are sort of hot by default.”

Rio choked on her breath. “I don’t– there’s no rule…” she managed, her voice an octave higher than usual. If her heart could still beat, it would have been hammering.

“Oh, are you saying you’re special?” Agatha was smirking now.

Thankfully, Rio didn’t have to stumble her way through a reply, because there, at the end of her long driveway, her house came into view.

Rio cleared her throat. “We’re almost here.”

She grabbed Agatha’s suitcase, leading her through the gates to her house.

“Such a gentleman,” Agatha purred. Her voice made Rio tighten her grip around the suitcase handle involuntarily. Luckily, Agatha didn’t notice; her eyes were drawn in by the house in front of her.

It wasn’t a castle, per se. Rio had always found those to be a little gauche, and she silently judged her fellow vampires who fully leaned into the aesthetic. Not only that, they were also an absolute bitch to heat.

Rio had never quite gotten used to the way her vampire body wasn’t able to regulate its own body heat. The only reason she wasn’t paying a fortune in gas and heating bills was because she’d willed the debt collector into believing that she used solar energy to heat her entire home, even though her beautiful straw roof wasn’t even remotely equipped to have solar panels. She also just found the idea of a vampire using solar energy kind of funny, a little inside joke with herself.

So, instead of a castle, the best way to describe her house would probably be a cottage, if a cottage had two stories, an attic, three bedrooms, two bathrooms and a wine cellar. The real reason she had chosen to live here, however, was the garden. It was huge and – thanks to Rio’s efforts – covered in lush greenery. She even had a greenhouse with UV-lights installed a few years ago so she could spend sunny days close to her plants, too.

Rio enjoyed watching the circle of life take place in her garden every year, especially since it was a cycle she’d been disconnected from centuries ago.

When Agatha’s eyes lit up at the greenery, Rio felt a strange knot form in her stomach. Pride, maybe. Like she hadn’t expected to care what anyone thought of this place – but now, she did.

When they entered through the front door, Agatha let out a low whistle.

“Guess this is what you get from letting your wealth accumulate a few hundred years, huh.”

She shrugged off her jacket, leaving Rio to follow her into her own living room. Agatha looked around in wonder, tracing her fingers over the spines of old, dusty tomes in the bookcase that covered Rio’s wall.

Rio suddenly felt very vulnerable. No one had been inside her living space in a while. Even other vampires didn’t visit. There was a reason they’d managed to stick around for centuries, apart from being just one step up from humans in the evolutionary chain, and that reason was that they preferred to keep to themselves.

Agatha was walking around like the house was hers – which, Rio supposed, it technically was now, at least partially. What shocked Rio was how well she already seemed to fit. She quickly tried to distract herself from the warmth growing in her chest.

“I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.” Rio motioned for Agatha to follow her, grabbing the suitcase and carrying it up the stairs. She smiled wryly at the fact that this was what she was using her vampire strength for.

“There’s an ensuite bathroom next to your bedroom. Feel free to use any of the closets, they’re yours. In fact, feel free to treat anything in here as your own.”

“Sure. Thanks.” Agatha plopped down on the bed, kicking off her sneakers as she did so. She checked the bedside table, turning the small light there on and off. Her skirt rode up as she bent her legs underneath herself. Rio looked away too quickly and hated herself for it. Not just for noticing, but for wanting to notice.

She turned to leave, offering Agatha her privacy, but was stopped by Agatha’s voice.

“Just one more thing.”

“What is it?” Rio could feel the exhaustion of the day piling up on her. 

“Are you going to tell me your name?” Agatha was looking at her with an amused smile on her face.

“What? I must’ve told you my–”

“I definitely would have remembered if you did, baby.” Agatha rolled over on her stomach, propping her head up on her elbows. “So?”

“It’s Rio.”

“Just Rio? No ‘Rio the Conqueror’ or ‘Rio the Bloody’?”

“Just Rio.”

“Alright then, just Rio.” From the way Agatha purred her name Rio knew she’d made a mistake in giving it out so freely. “Tell me. After I’m all settled in, what’s the plan here?”

“What do you mean?” Rio was starting to feel a little out of her depth. She didn’t even mean to bring anyone home with her in the first place, and now the person she did bring home was starting to ask why?

“Well, do I have to work to earn my keep?” Agatha continued. “Or am I going to be used as your own personal blood bag? I have to say, I’ve always hated getting my blood drawn at the doctor’s, but with you, I think I could see the appeal…”

“I won’t drink your blood,” Rio said through gritted teeth, ignoring the animalistic part of her brain that was telling her to do just that – to drink, to claim.

“Bummer. That still leaves my question, though: what am I supposed to do here?”

“I’ll let you know tomorrow.” She had to get out. The scent of Agatha’s skin, her pulse fluttering just beneath the surface – it was too much. If she stayed one more second, she wasn’t sure which side of her would win: the predator, or something even more dangerous. She turned on her heel and walked out of the bedroom.

“Oh, honey,” Agatha shouted through the half-open door Rio had just walked through. Her voice was almost a little pitiful. “You really didn’t think this through, did you?”

Rio really, really didn’t.

---

Rio was in her garden. She hadn’t slept all night – not that that was strange, she didn’t really need sleep, but she usually at least rested for a few hours. She would let her mind quiet down, let it process the events of the day. And considering how her life had fundamentally changed from one minute to the next the previous day, she had a lot to process.

Still, last night she hadn’t been able to make her mind go blank. Because when everything had finally gone quiet in the house, all her mind had been able to focus on was Agatha. She was suddenly everywhere: her presence invading every part of the house, her scent lingering in places she hadn’t even been.

Now that Agatha was here, Rio realized how much of her self-control had been dependent on the fact that she sheltered herself away from humanity. It wasn’t just the soft snoring – Rio berated herself when she realized she found it adorable. It was the heat of her. The steady rhythm of blood surging through her body. She hated how much she craved it.

If she focused, Rio could actually hear the blood pumping through Agatha’s veins, like it was calling to her. Every vampiric instinct she had was yelling at her to go to Agatha. Voices telling her to just have a little taste, she won’t even miss it and how it would taste so good, sweet and rich and filling and hers.

After tearing another hole in her bedsheets from gripping them so fiercely, Rio had gotten up and retreated to her garden, desperate for a distraction. She had buried her hands in the soil, hoping it would tether her, save her from her thoughts. Now, about ten hours later, she was still there, slowly starting to feel like herself again after putting some distance between herself and Agatha.

She was about to refill her watering can when she heard a loud crash coming from the kitchen.

Before Rio even realized it, her instincts kicked in. She rushed to the kitchen, only coming to a stop when she processed the sight in front of her.

Standing there, holding a broken plate, was Agatha. She was wearing a tank top that ended just above her belly button, shorts that barely covered her ass, and some fuzzy bunny slippers. Her hair was wild: she’d clearly woken up not long ago.

The sight hit Rio like a blow. Agatha looked delicious with her bare legs and soft skin and hair Rio wanted to slide her fingers into. Her mouth went dry. Her fangs throbbed. God, she wanted to–

No. She didn’t. She could control herself. Straightening her spine, she finally locked eyes with Agatha, who was already looking at her with a vague interest. It was her who spoke up first.

“You can calm down, I’m fine. Just a bruised ego. Sorry for breaking your plate,” Agatha said, already throwing the shards of broken plate into the trashcan. “Those are cute, by the way. Very Dracula-chic.” She pointed at Rio’s mouth with a smirk.

Rio ran her tongue over her teeth. She hadn’t realized that her fangs had extended when she had rushed into the kitchen. Embarrassed, she quickly retracted them – something that took more effort than she was willing to admit.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but for a vampire, you’re not all that menacing.”

Rio should have snapped. Could have bared her teeth and shown Agatha who she really was. Instead, she didn’t even have the time to look offended before Agatha continued.

“So tell me, do you have anything edible in this kitchen of yours? I’m guessing that red stuff in the fridge isn’t tomato juice.”

Yet another thing Rio hadn’t thought about when Agatha had so suddenly barged into her life. Humans needed food.

“Yes, of course, let me just…” Rio sifted through her cupboards, cursing under her breath. She hadn’t planned for company, let alone someone who smiled at her like that while standing half-dressed in her kitchen. She finally emerged with a half-eaten box of Pop Tarts, just six months past its expiration date. It was more than she had hoped to find.

“You actually, truly didn’t plan for anyone to come with you yesterday, did you?” Agatha said as she took the box with a laugh, propping herself up on the counter.

“I don’t–” Rio tried, but Agatha cut her off.

“You’re not a great liar, babe.”

The lack of blood in her body once again saved her from flushing at hearing that nickname. It was as good a time as any to come clean.

“How fast are you going to look for a way to stake me if I tell you that if you hadn’t offered to come, I would’ve just let the entire town go free anyway?”

Agatha was stunned for a second, appearing to mull it over as she chewed on her unheated Pop Tart. Rio definitely wasn’t staring at the way the crumbs were falling down the top of her shirt. Or imagining licking them off.

Then, Agatha shrugged.

“Eh, I was never really the sacrificial type anyway. Besides, you’re not getting rid of me. No way I’m moving back in with my bitch of a mother.” A pause as Agatha lowers her voice. “I’m not sure I shouldn’t be offended, though. You’re saying you haven’t even considered drinking from me?” She craned her neck, running her hands over the side like it was an offering.

Rio swallowed, her fingers curling into fists. Apart from the very vivid fantasies she had all night?

“Like I said before, I don’t drink from humans.”

“Why?” Agatha’s tone was curious now, not mocking.

“I don’t like the way it makes me lose control.”

“And is that something you have a problem with often? Losing control?” Agatha’s tone was flirty, but Rio could hear the real question underneath. Should I be afraid you’re going to hurt me?

“Not anymore.”

Apparently, that was good enough for Agatha. Putting the last piece of Pop Tart in her mouth, she dusted the crumbs off her top and jumped off the counter. “Alright. I’m going to take a shower and get dressed, and then we’re going to take a look at human proofing your house.”

“Apart from the food, I feel like my house is pretty human proof.”

“We’ll see. How’s you VHS collection?”

---

As the day went on, Rio kept being surprised by the way Agatha just seemed to fit. She’d taken complete control of their situation. They’d gone over Agatha’s basic needs: food (they made a shopping list), shelter (Rio’s home was big enough to fit at least two more inhabitants, something they both decided they weren’t going to put to the test) and entertainment (after a few tries Rio got her TV working again, allowing Agatha to watch reruns of SATC while Rio was working in her garden).

Though Rio hadn’t quite been able to tune out the thrumming of Agatha’s heartbeat, she had rapidly gotten better at dealing with her reactions. Her fangs had only slipped out once, when Agatha had leaned over to grab something from a shelf above Rio’s head. She was pretty sure Agatha hadn’t seen anything.

Now they were sitting on the couch, watching another episode of Sex and the City. When Agatha had told her it was either this or the VHS of Interview with the Vampire Rio had laying around for some reason, the choice was made quickly.

While Carrie was going through another one of her monologues, Agatha looked at Rio. “Do you have a working phone?”

Rio’s heart sank. Of course, she wanted to talk to someone, tell them that she was alright. She hadn’t even thought about that. Rio pointed Agatha to the phone hanging in the kitchen.

“I do. Feel free to call home, or a friend, or whoever.”

Agatha ignored her.

“Don’t be stupid. I’m ordering pizza.” Agatha dialed a number she seemed to know by heart. “Can you eat pizza?” she asked, head popping around the kitchen wall.

“Uh, yeah.” Rio didn’t need food for sustenance, but she could eat for enjoyment. When she was living alone, she didn’t really find it to be worth the effort.

“Perfect, what do you want your half to be?”

“Hawaii, please?” For Rio, the novelty of pineapple hadn’t quite worn off yet. She still remembered the time one pineapple would be used as a prized centerpiece for an entire dinner table.

“Fuck, you really are a monster. Alright, give me just a second.” Agatha ducked around the corner again, presumably rattling off her order to the pizza place.

About thirty minutes later their doorbell rang. Agatha shot up to go to the front door. When she came back into the living room, she was not just holding a large box of pizza, but also two other large bags that seemed to be stuffed to the brim.

“Did you order a year’s supply of mozzarella or something?” Rio asked, eyes wide.

“Better.” Agatha handed Rio the pizza, carrying the bags to the kitchen. “I got us groceries, baby.”

“What, how…?” Rio set the pizza down on the coffee table, following Agatha to the kitchen.

“Told the delivery kid that if he’d get us groceries, I’d pay him double. He probably needed the money, by the looks of him I’m guessing he goes through about three eyeliner pencils a week,” Agatha said over her shoulder, already unpacking the bags. Rio’s heart lurched at how domestic the whole display was. Before she could get too lost in the moment, she was handed a bottle of red wine.

“How about you take care of our drinks, and I’ll deal with the groceries?”

“Sure.” Rio grabbed two glasses, getting her own bottle from the fridge.

Rio was right in the middle of pouring her own glass of something that was decidedly not wine when Agatha came back into the living room. She raised her glass, clinking it with Rio’s.

“Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Rio mumbled back. It felt weird, drinking blood in front of Agatha. Like she was doing something illicit. Like Agatha would know, somehow, that the thought of drinking her blood had been lingering on Rio’s mind like an itch she couldn’t seem to scratch.

“So, that’s not human blood, then?” Agatha asked. Rio balked at the casual way she worded the question.

“Uh, no, it’s…” Rio took another sip. “Cow, I think.”

“You can tell the difference?”

“Sure. It’s like…” Rio tried to rack her brain into thinking of an analogy Agatha would understand. “It’s like Coke and Pepsi. It’s the same basic principle, but the taste is different.”

“What does human blood like?”

“Coke, when it still had cocaine in it.”

Agatha laughed, throwing her head back. Rio’s eyes immediately honed in on her long, exposed neck. What she wouldn’t give to sink her teeth in there, just for a second, just so she could finally feel satiated for the first time in a hundred years…

The grip on her glass tightened. No.

Agatha was still wiping the tears from her eyes as she asked, suddenly more serious, “Seriously though. What does it feel like for you? Drinking human blood?”

Rio could feel herself vibrating, thoughts – memories – crossing her mind in flashes.

“It’s… complicated.”

“That’s not an answer.” Agatha was leaning in now, the scent of her unescapable. The next words tumbled from Rio’s lips before she could stop herself.

“Drinking human blood is like… it’s heat. Salt. A sweetness that hits you low and hard. Like honey that was left out in the sun for too long – thick, warm, just slightly tangy.” Rio could hear Agatha’s heartbeat pick up, but it was like she couldn’t stop the words from coming. “The first time, it’s overwhelming. Like your body doesn’t belong to you anymore. Every nerve wakes up at once. You want to chase it, sink deeper into it. It pulls you under, and you’re completely willing to drown.” Rio could feel her fangs extend from her gums.

“Wow.” Agatha’s lips were parted, her breaths coming in quicker than before. Then she blinked, a slow grin spreading over her face. “Sounds like how I feel when my mouth is between a girl’s legs.”

That broke Rio out of her trance.

“W-what?”

“Oh, Rio, I know you’re old, but please don’t tell me your values are still stuck somewhere in the 1800s?”

“No! No, I mean, I know there are– what I’m trying to say is, I’ve… known… women.”

Agatha just stared at Rio for a second, eyes wide. Then, she burst out laughing again. “Fuck, and I thought my coming out was awkward! You absolutely just beat me getting caught with my hand in some girl’s pants by my mother.”

Rio averted her eyes at Agatha’s blunt words, though she couldn’t help a smile from forming on her lips. It was just so easy. Her isolation had almost made her forget how fun it could be to talk to another person, to let someone in.

As she watched Agatha laugh again, a dangerous thought crossed her mind: something about wanting this forever. It was an insane thought to have – she’d only known Agatha for a little over a day. Rio quickly shook it off, grabbing the bottle of blood to pour herself another glass. It only managed to quell her bloodlust a little. The taste of human blood from yesterday still lingered on her tongue, and Agatha’s thrumming heartbeat was a constant reminder of what she could have, if only she allowed her control to slip a little.

Distractedly, she poured Agatha another glass of wine.

“You know no amount of trying to get me drunk is going to make me forget what you just said, right?” Agatha joked, immediately taking a sip of her wine anyway. When she set down her glass again, she was looking at Rio with that curious expression Rio was slowly becoming familiar with. “How long has it been? Since you’ve had human blood?”

Rio tensed. No chance of Agatha just letting this thing go, then. “Yesterday, I drank from that man in the town square. You saw.”

“No, not like that. I mean, when was the last time you truly allowed yourself to savor it? To enjoy it?” Agatha’s eyes were dark now, pupils just a bit more dilated than they were before.

“Agatha…” Rio started, but Agatha cut her off.

“I want to try something.” Agatha shifted her body towards Rio, reducing the space between them on the worn, comfy couch they’d been sharing all night. Agatha grabbed Rio’s hand, softly guiding two of Rio’s fingers to the inside of her wrist. Rio’s hand jerked.

“Try what?”

“Relax,” Agatha said with a small smile. “Just want to see if I’m as safe around you as you say, alright? Tell me when it gets hard to control it.”

“This isn’t a good idea,” Rio murmured, but Agatha was already moving Rio’s fingers upwards, over the inside of her arm. Rio’s mind was telling her to pull her hand away, but her body wasn’t complying.

Agatha shushed her, continuing to move her hand further upwards. “Tell me when.”

Rio could feel her pulse, could hear the blood flowing through her veins. She was trembling now, but Agatha still pushed upwards, rounding her shoulder. Moving towards her neck, she let Rio’s fingers brush over her pulse point.

Rio’s free hand gripped the couch cushion. “Now,” she said through gritted teeth.

Agatha didn’t let go of her hand.

“You sure?” Her voice had dipped lower, all warm and velvety. “I think you could go a little longer.”

“Agatha,” Rio warned, her fangs already visible. Agatha continued to move Rio’s fingers, brushing them over her jaw, inching ever closer to her mouth. Her lips were so pink, and still slightly glossy. For just a moment, Rio’s fingers moved on their own accord, getting closer, begging to touch…

Rio jerked her hand away. Agatha moved back to her end of the couch, smiling. “Just checking,” she said breezily, closing the pizza box on the table and taking it over to the kitchen like nothing had just happened.

Rio let out a shaky exhale. Her whole body was vibrating. When she grabbed her glass again, she could feel her hand trembling.

She didn’t know how long she sat there – SATC still playing in the background, the faint sound of plastic rustling coming from the kitchen – but when Agatha returned, she acted like nothing had happened.

Agatha offered Rio one of the strawberries she’d grabbed and Rio took one, just to give herself something to do. When she put it in her mouth, she tasted it even less than usual. She couldn’t stop replaying the way Agatha had moved in her head. Deliberate, teasing. Unafraid. Rio hated how much she wanted it to happen again.

They watched the TV in silence. When she’d finished the bowl of strawberries, Agatha stood up, stretching her arms above her head. Rio’s eyes betrayed her immediately, focusing on the sliver of skin that was suddenly on show.

“I think I’m gonna call it a night.”

“Alright,” Rio said quietly. She didn’t trust herself to say more.

Agatha picked up her glass and started walking towards the kitchen, but not before glancing over her shoulder. “You passed, by the way.”

Rio frowned. “Passed what?”

“The test. I wanted to see what would happen if I got close.” She smirked. “You didn’t bite me. Gold star for you.”

And with that, she disappeared upstairs.

Rio stayed where she was for just a moment longer, finishing the remainder of her glass. Then she rose slowly, knees still a bit wobbly, and locked the doors before heading to her own room.

She heard the faint noise of Agatha’s shower going – the only thing disturbing the heavy, fragile quiet that had settled over the house. At least it drowned out the noise of Agatha’s heartbeat a bit. She settled between the sheets, still holding the faint claw marks from that morning.

It was going to be a long night.

---

When Rio walked into the kitchen the next day, Agatha was already there. Rio had spent the early hours of the morning in her garden, losing herself in the repetitive act of weeding. She made sure she was back inside before the sun could truly rise.

Agatha was sitting on the counter, bowl of fruit in hand.

“Morning,” she said with a bright smile.

“Morning,” Rio mumbled back, immediately grabbing her bottle of blood from the fridge. She’d been drinking a lot more since the arrival of her new guest, she noticed. It was another difficulty Agatha brought with her: now that there was a source of real, human blood so close, the animal blood that Rio had been drinking didn’t quite satiate her the same way it used to. She made a mental note visit the butcher again soon. Her stocks were running low.

Rio drank straight from the bottle, until she felt a pair of eyes staring at her. When she looked over at Agatha, her eyes were fixated on Rio’s lips, stained slightly red. Their eyes locked briefly.

Agatha cleared her throat, as if she hadn’t quite meant to have gotten caught staring. “Want some?” She held up her bowl of fruit.

“Sure.” Rio wiped her soil-covered hands on her overalls. She moved to grab one of the honey-drizzled peaches Agatha had cut up, but Agatha slapped her hands away.

“You’re not getting dirt on my breakfast, you animal.”

When Rio turned to wash her hands under the kitchen tap, Agatha stopped her. In her hand, she was holding one of the peach slices.

“Here.” She gave Rio a soft smile, the one Rio was beginning to realize meant trouble. “Try this.”

Rio blinked. Her fangs twitched. She shouldn’t do this. “I’m not really hungry.”

“Liar.” Agatha moved the slice of peach closer to Rio’s mouth. The honey was slowly starting to coat her fingers. Rio could almost taste it – the ripe, tangy fruit, the sweetness of the honey, and something she was starting to recognize as purely Agatha.

Agatha pushed the peach against Rio’s lips, who still kept her mouth closed. Her fingers were clenching at her sides. “What? Afraid I’ll poison you?” Agatha teased.

Rio opened her mouth then, slowly taking a bite, careful to avoid Agatha’s fingers. When she looked up, Agatha was already staring at her with a heady look in her eyes, mouth opened just a bit.

When Rio returned for a second bite, her fangs grazed across the skin of Agatha’s thumb. She jolted back in surprise. She hadn’t even felt them extend from her gums.

“Not hungry, huh?” Agatha teased as she licked the honey from her now empty fingers.   

“Sorry,” Rio mumbled, taking a few steps back to create some distance between herself and Agatha.

“Don’t be. I don’t mind.” Agatha popped another strawberry into her mouth.

Rio turned away, actually washing her hands in the sink this time. Not for the first time in the past few days was she glad that her vampire biology didn’t allow her to blush.

“So,” Agatha continued, appearing unbothered, “what’s the plan for today?”

Now that Agatha was living here, Rio was slowly starting to realize how repetitive her life had become. It’s not that she didn’t know it before, it was more that she hadn’t minded. Now, she somehow had this strange desire to be interesting, something she hadn’t wanted to be for decades. 

“I was going to go into my greenhouse, check up on some of the medicinal herbs I’m growing.”

“Can I come?”

Rio hadn’t expected her to ask. She knew Agatha was interested, had seen it before when she had mentioned her greenhouse offhandedly. One of the first things she realized about the woman was that beneath her aloof façade, she was incredibly curious.

So yes, she knew Agatha had been wanting to know more about what she was doing in her greenhouse. She just literally hadn’t expected her to ask; she figured Agatha would just barge in one day, had already prepared for that moment in her head. Somehow, the fact that Agatha could read her well enough to know that the greenhouse was special to Rio made something warm and insistent flutter in her chest.

“Sure,” Rio said, trying to appear casual.

“Great! Give me a minute to get dressed, I’ll join you in a few.”

---

Another thing Rio quickly learned about Agatha was that she didn’t have a green thumb. At all. Rio had to stop her from overwatering or ripping out a healthy plant three times so far.

“I can’t help that they look like weeds, Rio!”

“It’s thyme! How do you not recognize thyme?!” Rio had laughed as Agatha begrudgingly handed over her shears, though there was a smile on her face too.

“Whatever. I much prefer watching you do all this stuff anyway.”

That was how they spent the rest of the afternoon, with Rio quietly tending to her plants and Agatha sitting in the corner, book in hand – though more often than not, Rio could feel a pair of eyes on her back, watching her instead of the book.

It was easier, somehow. The different aromas of the plants around her diffused some of Agatha’s scent, making it easier to concentrate. When Agatha asked her questions, she finally found herself able to answer somewhat intelligently. Eventually, Agatha abandoned her book altogether.

“Has anyone ever told you your whole gardener thing is kind of hot?” Agatha suddenly said after a long stretch of silence.

Rio jumped. She clipped off a bit too much of the plant she was pruning in shock. “What?”

“You know, this.” Agatha waved her arms vaguely in Rio’s direction. “The way you get all intense with your little plants. You get this look in your eyes, all… focused. Sharp.”

“It’s just dirt and bugs, Agatha.”

“Exactly. I mean, I’m not really a nature girl, clearly, but there’s something kind of sexy about watching you get your hands dirty.”

Rio tried not to react, but her hands stilled in the soil. Agatha stood, slow and languid, walking until she was right behind Rio.

“What’s this one?” she asked, pointing to one of the herbs Rio had been collecting.

“Lemongrass.” Rio’s voice was raspy.

Agatha leaned in closer to the plant, to Rio’s hand that was holding it. Rio froze, not daring to move her hand away.

“Mmm. Smells nice.” She brought her hand up to bring the plant closer, grazing it over Rio’s. It felt deliberate. The warmth of her skin was maddening.

“Agatha,” Rio gritted out softly.

Agatha looked up, not pulling her hand away. “You keep saying my name like it’s some kind of warning.”

Rio didn’t move. Her hands were still deep in the soil. She was afraid that if she would let go, she would grab onto something else instead.

“It is.”

“And who are you warning, Rio? Me? Or yourself?”

Rio looked down at her and for a moment, her control frayed. She extended her pinky finger, slowly letting it trace across Agatha’s skin. Her fangs were pressing against the inside of her lip. Agatha saw, but she didn’t flinch.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I know how to be careful.” She straightened, her other hand moving to cup Rio’s jaw.

“Agatha,” Rio said again, not able to keep the longing out of her voice this time. Her hands had moved from the soil on their own accord, now firmly planted on Agatha’s hips. Rio wasn’t sure if she wanted to push Agatha away or pull her closer. She was getting dirt all over Agatha’s shorts.

“Shh. You want this, don’t you?”

Rio didn’t trust herself to speak. Her fangs were poking into her bottom lip. She nodded.

“Then let go.” As Agatha moved closer, she removed her hand from the soil. Suddenly, she hissed, jerking her hand back.

“Shit.”

Rio, still half-dazed, was about to ask when happened when the scent hit her nose. Blood. Looking at Agatha’s hand, she saw a small bead of red form at the tip of her index finger. She stumbled backwards, a haze clouding her vision.

“It’s… the shears, I must’ve just grazed them.” Agatha’s eyes were wide, her gaze flickering between her finger and Rio.

Rio felt paralyzed. The scent was surrounding her now, sharp and warm and real. It spread through her like lightning, a crackling reminder of everything she’d been holding back. The greenhouse that had felt warm and safe just moments ago suddenly felt too small, too humid. Too close.

“Rio?”

Rio didn’t answer. Her hands were gripping the corners of the wooden planter, her eyes locked on Agatha’s hand. Her fingers were twitching, itching to let go.

“Hey,” Agatha said softly, all teasing gone from her voice. She took a small step forward. “It’s fine, I’ll clean it up.” She moved to grab one of the rags behind Rio, but Rio was faster.

“Don’t move,” Rio said, voice low and strained, blocking her path. She could see Agatha’s breath hitch. She watched as Agatha looked into her eyes, could feel the moment Agatha saw what was lurking beneath. Hunger. Real, feral hunger.

“You’re shaking,” Agatha whispered.

Rio was. Her whole body was trembling.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to–” Agatha’s voice faltered. “Do you need me to leave?”

“I need you to stop bleeding,” Rio bit out.

Agatha glanced at her finger again. The blood had started to run, slow and thin, down the side of her hand. Agatha brought it up to her mouth, preparing to lick it clean.

Rio’s hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. “Don’t.”

The silence stretched, heavy and electric. Rio didn’t remove her hand, but she wasn’t pulling Agatha closer either.

“So what do you want me to do, Rio?” Agatha asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Rio’s grip loosened, slowly. Gathering all the strength she could muster, she took a step back, clenching her eyes shut. “Leave. Please.” It wasn’t a command but a plea. Her fangs were still out, her breathing ragged.

Agatha looked at her for a long, unreadable moment. Then, she nodded, turning on her heel and leaving the greenhouse without another word.

Rio stood there for a long time, the ghost of Agatha’s scent overwhelming, the pulse of desire and hunger still thrumming through her like thunder.

She only went back inside the house hours later, when Agatha had already gone to bed.

---

When Rio woke up the next morning, she had fully expected Agatha to be gone. But as she looked up at her alarm clock reading eight am, she realized she could still hear Agatha’s slow heartbeat from the other end of the house. Sleeping peacefully.

Rio walked downstairs softly, careful not to disturb Agatha. Instead of fleeing to her greenhouse, she walked over to the kitchen. Last evening she had chugged the remainder of the bottle of blood in her fridge. It had tasted like ash on her tongue, but at least it had somewhat quelled the rampant hunger in her stomach.

Now, as she was going through her cupboards, she realized that that had been the last bottle in her supply. She would have to visit the butcher later. Fortunately, it was supposed to be a grey, downcast day, so she’d be able to go in the afternoon.

Instead of focusing on the hunger that was already rearing its head again, she focused on preparing breakfast. When Agatha came downstairs an hour later, Rio was just putting the finishing touches on the French toast she was making.

Rio heard her heartbeat before she heard her voice – slow, steady. Warm. The scent of sleep clung to her skin, mixed with something uniquely Agatha. It made Rio’s mouth ache.

“What smells so good in here?” Agatha yawned as she walked into the kitchen.

“I made French toast.”

“Aw, baby, you shouldn’t have.” Agatha pulled up a chair at the dining table, letting Rio serve her a plate of toast. Her smile could almost be called affectionate, before it morphed into something else.

“Rio–”

“Agatha, I–”

They spoke at the same time, but Agatha was the first to continue.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” Rio asked, stunned.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been more cautious. I know that blood makes you… sensitive. I shouldn’t have been so careless around you.”

“No, Agatha, I should be the one to apologize, I didn’t mean to–”

Agatha cut her off again, her eyes big and slightly scared. “Please don’t send me away.”

That caught Rio off-guard. She had expected Agatha to want to get away from her, away from the awful monster that could barely control herself at the sight of a drop of blood. Suddenly, she remembered the old woman that had been standing next to Agatha in the town square on the night they met. The one that had barely given her daughter a second glance when she had offered to go with a vampire covered in blood. Rio sending Agatha away would probably mean that she’d have to go back to that awful woman.

Something possessive inside of Rio reared its head. “I don’t want you to go away.”

Agatha gave her a small smile, and Rio could see her confidence returning. “Good.”

“But I don’t want you to feel like you’re in danger here, either.”

“I didn’t. I still don’t.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Rio, listen.” Agatha grabbed Rio’s hand from across the table. The touch was so gentle that for once, Rio didn’t flinch. Agatha’s fingers brushed against hers, soft and warm. The pulse beneath her skin thudded against Rio’s palm, and for a moment, Rio forgot how to breathe. Not from hunger, not just that – from want. Rio’s jaw tightened.

“What happened yesterday was a fluke. You’ve made me feel nothing but safe around here, and even when confronted with human blood for the first time in over a century you managed not to bite me. I trust you.”

“But what if it happens again?”

“Then you’ll be able to control yourself, just like you did yesterday. But like I said, I’ll be more careful.” An amused smile crossed Agatha’s lips. “I’m afraid you might have to manage your greenhouse without the help of these green thumbs for a while.”

At that, Rio couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll try.”

“Good.”

The air in the room felt lighter, somehow, now that they’d discussed what had happened. Agatha was right: even when she was confronted with human blood, Rio managed not to take it by force. She’d go by the butcher later today to pick up some new bottles of blood, and all would be well.

“So, I was thinking,” Agatha said between mouthfuls of toast. “Is it okay if I go through your closet today? I kind of want to see what stuff is in there.”

“Be my guest, I’m sure there’s plenty for you to laugh at,” Rio replied absentmindedly, her eyes caught on some sugar crystals caught in the corner of Agatha’s mouth. She wanted to wipe them away. She wanted to taste them. She wanted–

Rio forced her eyes to look elsewhere.

“Oh, I’m not just doing it for entertainment,” Agatha was already shoving the last piece of toast in her mouth and disappearing down the hallway, eager now that she got the go-ahead. “I’m trying things on.”

---

While Rio was washing up after their breakfast, she could already hear Agatha rummaging through her closet. She just finished putting their plates in the dishwasher when she heard a voice calling to her from upstairs.

“Rio, can you come up? I need your help with the lacing on this dress.”

Rio hesitated. She should really go visit her butcher. Now that the tension between her and Agatha had somewhat settled, she already felt that familiar hunger gnawing at her insides again. The fact that she hadn’t been able to drink anything this morning didn’t help. Especially since, now that the worst part of it had been put to rest, she remembered other parts of what transpired yesterday. Like how Agatha had stepped closer to her, cupping her jaw, tilting her head so she could–

Rio shook her head. She’d just quickly go and help Agatha, and then she’d be out of the house. Once her blood supply had been restocked, she’d be back to normal. Or as normal as she could be around Agatha.

When she walked into her bedroom, Rio stopped dead in her tracks.

Agatha stood in front of a full-length mirror, holding her hair up with one hand and adjusting the corset of her dress with the other. The dress she was wearing had a deep neckline, leaving her neck and collarbones exposed. The skirt of the dress was a deep purple with black accents, something Rio hadn’t worn for centuries.

Rio swallowed hard. The smell of Agatha’s blood was faint but present, like it always was. When Agatha caught Rio’s reflection in the mirror, she smiled.

“There you are. I was starting to think you wouldn’t come.” She let her hair fall over her shoulder, and Rio caught a whiff of something floral. Agatha’s perfume, maybe, or the shampoo she used. It was getting more and more difficult to discern the world around her when Agatha was close. Something gnawed at her stomach.

“Can you tie up these laces?” Agatha asked, and Rio stepped closer before she even realized her legs were moving. She grabbed the soft lace with her trembling hands. Now that she was close to Agatha’s exposed shoulders, she could see the collection of faint freckles that rested there.

Rio’s hands moved on their own accord. Even though she hadn’t worn a corseted dress in a while, she still knew the familiar motions by heart. At a particularly strong pull, Agatha’s breath hitched.

“You’re good at this.”

“I’ve done it before.” Rio’s voice sounded strained, even to her own ears.

“Just lacing them up, or the other way around, too?” Agatha’s tone was playful, but Rio could hear the breathiness in her voice. She stayed quiet, trying to get through her task as quickly as possible. As soon as she reached the base of the corset, she stepped back.

Agatha turned around. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful.” The words left Rio’s mouth before she could stop them. A faint blush appeared on Agatha’s cheeks.

“Your hands are shaking,” Agatha said quietly. Not teasing this time, just… noticing.

“I haven’t drank since yesterday evening.” Rio clenched her jaw. “And you smell like blood.”

Agatha stilled. “Oh.”

“You smell like blood,” Rio repeated, “all the time. It’s on your skin. Your breath. Everything.” She exhaled through her nose. The hunger was getting to her. She was trying her best not to lean forward, into Agatha’s scent. “And you keep getting closer.”

“Should I stop?”

“You should,” Rio said, before continuing in a whisper. “But I don’t want you to.” She allowed her fingers to trace across Agatha’s bare arms, following her veins with her fingers. She could feel the way Agatha’s heartrate picked up. Then, Rio took a step back.

“You need to stop looking at me like that,” she said, voice still soft.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to bite you.”

Agatha was quiet for a moment. “What if I–”

“Stop. Don’t say it.”

Agatha reached for her arm then, fingers brushing her wrist. Rio pulled back before Agatha could grab her.

“I need to go into town,” she said, backing towards the door. “I need to go to the butcher.”

She turned before Agatha could protest, footsteps heavy on the stairs. She walked out into the chilly afternoon air, hoping it might cool the fire in her chest.

---

Rio walked fast, using the last bit of her strength to increase her speed, but even she could tell she was distracted. Her mind was flashing with images of soft skin, faint freckles and piercing blue eyes.

She needed blood.

When Rio arrived at the butcher’s door, it was locked. That wasn’t strange in and of itself – it was past closing time already. When Rio rang the doorbell to the house above the shop, however, no one answered. That was the first sign that something was wrong.

The second sign was the small note taped to the inside of the shop door that read: Closed for the week, family holiday! Back Monday – P. Jones

Rio stared at the note for a full thirty seconds, unmoving. Her fingers flexed at her sides. Of course – her luck had to run out at some point.

Suddenly realizing that the street she was standing in wasn’t empty, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. In. Out.

Then she turned around and started walking the long way home.

When Rio stepped back inside the house, she was immediately overwhelmed by Agatha’s scent. She was everywhere. It settled over Rio like a stone blanket, pulling her further down into the depths of herself. Before, she had been able to distract herself with the prospect of blood. Now that she knew she wouldn’t be able to get any for the next two days, she panicked.

“Successful blood run?” a voice asked. When Rio looked up she saw Agatha standing on the staircase, wearing one of her vintage night gowns. The midnight blue color contrasted beautifully with Agatha’s pale skin and the deep neckline left her collarbones exposed. Her tone was airy, but Rio could see a small hint of concern in her eyes.

Rio’s throat tightened.

“Rio?” Agatha asked again, smile faltering.

“He wasn’t there,” Rio rasped. She cleared her throat. “The butcher. He’s on holiday until Monday.”

“Oh. Shit.” As Agatha took a step forward, Rio stumbled back.

“Don’t–” She closed her eyes, turning her head away from Agatha. “I’ll think of something. Maybe there’s a cupboard I haven’t checked.” Every word out of her mouth was taking an effort to form.

Agatha took another step forward, more carefully this time. “Is it really that bad?”

Rio forced herself to look up, giving Agatha a small nod. “I’ll manage.”

“You look like you’re in pain.”

“I’m hungry, Agatha,” Rio gritted out, grabbing the wall to steady herself. She stumbled towards the kitchen and started pulling open cupboards blindly, throwing them shut when she found them empty. The hunger was gnawing at her now, sharp and insistent.

“Rio,” Agatha said, voice quieter now but still firm. Like she was anchoring herself, trying not to sound afraid.

Rio didn’t turn around. Her hands gripped the edge of the countertop so tightly that the wood creaked. The house was too quiet, her breathing too loud, and the scent of Agatha’s blood was wrapping around her like a noose.

“I need space,” Rio managed, slumping down to the floor. Her voice was hoarse.

Agatha hesitated, before crouching down too, a few feet away from Rio. “Okay.” She paused. “What if we went into town? A pharmacy or something. There has to be some place that sells… bags. Medicinal ones?”

Rio shook her head, jaw tight. Even seeing her like this, Agatha was still trying to help. “They don’t sell those to just anyone. And I can’t walk into a hospital looking like… this.” She hesitated. “Besides, I don’t trust myself to be around that many people right now.” It felt like a confession.

“Maybe an animal shelter, then?”

“I wouldn’t, I couldn’t… do that. And Westview doesn’t even have an animal shelter. We would have to go to the next city over, which I can’t do in this state. I’d cause a massacre.”

“You couldn’t–”

“I could. And I would. Hell, it’s all my mind is telling me to do right now.”

Agatha lips parted, but she didn’t speak.

Rio took a deep breath, willing herself back into a standing position. She had to brace her hands on the counter, but she managed. Her eyes flicked up towards Agatha, who was getting up too, careful to keep her distance from Rio.

“I’m sorry,” Rio said. “I didn’t want you to see me like this. Especially after yesterday.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

Rio laughed, couldn’t help it. “You mentioned that. Has anyone ever told you you have terrible survival skills?”

“Many, many people.” Agatha was grinning now, too. “It’s just two days, right?”

Rio nodded, slowly. “Monday morning. He’ll be back then.”

“Alright, so that gives us just tonight and tomorrow, a little over twenty-four hours. We can do that.”

“We?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Rio looked away. She felt raw, hollowed out. When she spoke again, her voiced had settled, just a little. “You should keep your door locked tonight.”

“Will that stop you?”

Rio met Agatha’s eyes. “No.”

Agatha looked at her for a long moment. Then she nodded. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

The fact that Agatha was so sure Rio wouldn’t harm her during the night calmed Rio down, if only slightly. She could do this. It was just one day and two nights. She was a vampire, she’d lived for centuries. How hard could this be?

---

It turned out to be very fucking hard.

Rio had tried to fall asleep. She’d gone to her room, locking her own door as well, even turning on the fan she kept by her bed for white noise. None of it worked.

Her body felt like a livewire – every sense completely attuned to Agatha. Whereas before Agatha’s heartbeat had been a constant background noise, right now it was all she could hear. It was drowning out everything else. Her fangs had been extended since that evening, pushing into her bottom lip, and she couldn’t manage to get them to retract.

At some point, the hunger had started to twist. No longer just a need, but something messier. Something that got tangled up in scent and memory – Agatha’s smile over breakfast, the way she would laugh at Rio, open and unguarded. The way her hand had caressed Rio’s cheek only days ago.

Rio sat up, her throat dry. She paced the length of her room, crossing the hallway before she even realized what she was doing.

She stopped outside Agatha’s door, fingers hovering near the handle. It took everything in her power not to reach out and twist. Agatha was breathing softly on the other side of the wall. For a few seconds, Rio just listened, her head resting against the door. A terrifying, aching need settled over her: not just for blood, but for closeness.

Then, she clenched her fist and walked downstairs, every step taking monumental effort. She walked over to her greenhouse, moving as if on autopilot. It felt like all of her senses were heightened. As she traced her fingers over the leaves of her plants, she felt them tingle beneath her fingertips. Her mouth felt like sand, like she’d been walking in the desert for days without access to water.

As Rio walked further into the greenhouse, the soothing scent of chamomile and lavender washed over her, overtaking everything else. Her sight was blurry, and she was finding her way by touch and memory alone. Her legs started to tremble, so she sat down on the soft leather chair in the corner, the one Agatha had been sitting in a few days ago. She could still smell her. As Rio curled into a ball, resting her head on the soft armrests of the chair, she could finally feel a deep exhaustion overtake her. She shut her eyes, glad to finally feel a reprieve from the hunger gnawing at her insides.

The last thing she thought of before falling into a deep slumber were a pair of ocean blue eyes looking at her softly.

---

When she woke up, Agatha was there, hovering over her with a concerned look on her face.

“Rio, please say something. Come on.” Her hands were brushing the hair from Rio’s forehead.

Rio blinked, forcing her eyes to focus.

“W-what happened?” She couldn’t quite get her voice to work, the words coming out in a throaty whisper.

“I found you here, lying on the floor. You were trembling.” Agatha said it like something was caught in her throat.

“What time is it?” Rio rasped.

“Eleven.”

“At night?”

“In the morning.”

Damn. She’d hoped she slept through the day.

“Just one more day until I can go get more blood.” Rio tried to sound confident, but she was failing.

Agatha didn’t respond right away. She just looked at Rio, eyes taking in the paleness of her skin, the dark circles under her eyes, the way she couldn’t stop shivering.

“You’re not going to make it through another night like this,” she said softly.

With great effort, Rio pushed herself upright against the chair, resting her head against the seat. It was spinning. “I’ll manage. I told you, I–”

“You’re shaking.” Agatha reached out, taking Rio’s hand in hers. Suddenly, Agatha’s heartbeat was all she felt. “You’re cold.”

“I’m always cold. I’m a vampire.” The joke didn’t land. Her words were brittle, paper-thin. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

The silence between them stretched, heavy. Then, Agatha stood up. For a second, Rio thought she might be leaving. Instead, Agatha walked over to the table close by, where Rio kept her gardening tools. She found what she was looking for quickly.

“Agatha,” Rio said, voice sharp with warning.

But Agatha just looked at her, unhesitating, cutting across the palm of her hand with the gardening shears. Blood immediately welled up from the cut.

The scent hit Rio like a blow. Whereas before she was barely able to move, now everything was pure instinct. She got up on her knees, grabbing at the chair behind her to keep her steady.

“Don’t,” Rio rasped. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Agatha moved closer anyway, looking down at Rio. She angled her hand towards Rio’s mouth, letting her see the blood flowing from the wound. It was dripping onto the floor, and Rio had half a mind to bend down and lick it clean.

“You need blood.”

“Agatha, stop. I can’t– won’t be able to control myself.”

“I’ll stop you.”

“You won’t want me to.”

Agatha tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

Rio stared at her, caught somewhere between agony and awe. “It’s a predator’s trick. The venom from my fangs, it’ll make it feel… good. Too good.”

Agatha thought for a moment, and then she stepped closer. Rio whimpered. The sound terrified her – she barely sounded human.

“I’ll stop you. If it’s too much, I’ll tell you.”

Rio looked at her then, really looked. What she saw made her breath hitch. Agatha’s pupils were dilated, her breathing had changed. Her cheeks were flushed.

She was already feeling it.

Very slowly, Rio leaned forward and took Agatha’s wrist in her hands. The scent was overwhelmingly close now. She could taste it. “Tell me the second it feels wrong,” she whispered.

“I will.”

Agatha moved her free hand into Rio’s hair. Rio brought the bleeding palm to her lips.

The moment her mouth closed over the wound, something shifted.

Agatha’s breath caught. Not in fear, but in surprise. A low sound escaped her throat, barely audible, something between a gasp and a sigh.

Rio groaned against her skin. The taste was everything she’d dreamt about for the past few days: bright, warm, alive. At first, she just licked at the wound, not biting even though every voice inside of her head was telling her to do so.

But she wasn’t able to hold off for long. As soon as she felt the blood flow start to slow down, her fangs extended, biting into Agatha’s soft flesh. If licking her blood felt good, biting Agatha was pure extasy. She could already feel her venom start to trickle into Agatha’s veins, moving beneath the bite like smoke, softening the pain and replacing it with something that burned and melted at the same time.

Rio licked and sucked, completely lost in the feeling of Agatha’s blood in her mouth. She was holding onto Agatha’s wrist with both hands now, pulling her closer, leaving faint indents from her nails. She let out a small groan.

Agatha shivered. Her spine arched almost imperceptibly. “Oh…”

The hand in Rio’s hair tightened. Rio froze, not quite able to tear her mouth away. She recognized the signs – the quiet way someone softened under her bite, the way tension slipped from their muscles one slow breath at a time.

“You weren’t kidding,” Agatha murmured, voice heady. “It feels… weird. Like heat. Like…” She trailed off, breath getting caught in her throat.

When Rio looked into her eyes, she could see Agatha’s pupils were fully dilated. She should pull away. Instead, when Agatha pushed her palm further into Rio’s mouth, she drank.

Just a little more.

Agatha’s breathing slowed down, eyes growing a little unfocused. Glassy. Her hand, still in Rio’s grasp, went slack.

Only then did Rio pull back, gently pressing her lips to the edges of the wound – soothing it, sealing it with instinct more than thought.

Agatha exhaled shakily. Her cheeks were flushed, her posture loose in a way Rio had never seen before. Her eyes met Rio’s: wide, soft, still a little dazed.

“I didn’t say stop…” Agatha said, almost petulant.

“You’re okay,” Rio murmured, brushing her thumb along Agatha’s wrist.

Agatha nodded, slow and languid, her mouth still open in shock. “That was…” She didn’t finish her sentence. Didn’t need to.

Rio lowered her head, trying to steady her own breathing. She was stronger now – stronger than she’d felt in a long time. Clearheaded enough to feel the shame of what she’d just done start to settle in.

“I took too much.”

“No,” Agatha said quickly. “You didn’t.”

“You’re–”

“I’m here.” Agatha’s voice was a little distant, but calm. “I’m fine.”

Rio didn’t know what to say. She brought Agatha’s palm to her mouth, kissing the center of it reverently.

“Let me clean you up,” she whispered.

Agatha nodded, docile and trusting. She followed Rio to the kitchen, eyes still a little glazed. When Rio wrapped her hands in gauze, Agatha leaned against the counter, not letting go of Rio’s arm the entire time.

Whatever passed between them was still stick in the air, unnamed but present nonetheless. Rio made Agatha drink a large cup of chamomile tea and eat some protein bars before guiding her upstairs to her bedroom. Agatha followed willingly.

“Thank you,” Rio whispered when Agatha was finally lying down, tucked under her blankets.

“Anytime.” Agatha’s voice still had a dreamy quality to it but her eyes were soft as she smiled at Rio.

When Rio closed the door to her bedroom, Agatha was already snoring softly.

---

When Agatha entered the kitchen the next morning, Rio was already there making tea. She not only felt better, she looked better too: the dark circles had disappeared from under her eyes, and though her skin didn’t look rosy, per se – there was only so much you could do as a vampire – it did have a certain glow.

Rio felt conflicted: on the one hand, she was glad she was feeling like her old self again without having caused any serious harm to Agatha. On the other hand, she hated the nagging voice in her head that was reminding her she would have to switch back to animal blood again. The thought abhorred her more than she was willing to admit.

She knew it was the right thing to do – had already called the butcher to check if he was in, setting up a pickup for later that evening. She wasn’t worried about the long stretch between now and the next moment she could feed. With human blood coursing through her veins, the urge to drink was something distant in her mind.

Agatha, for her part, looked better too, less dazed than she had last night. Still, when Rio handed her a cup of tea and their fingers brushed, a shiver ran through her body. Rio could feel her heartbeat spike just a little too much, could see her pupils dilate. She knew what was happening to her.

“How is your hand?” Rio asked, cautious.

“Fine. Good. It doesn’t hurt, weirdly.”

When Rio softly unwrapped the bandages from Agatha’s hand, she could already see that the wound had closed up, the only reminder of what happened a faint red line across Agatha’s palm.

“That’d be the vampire venom. It speeds up the healing process. Among other things.”

Agatha’s hand flexed beneath Rio’s soft fingers, pulsing. It was clear what Rio meant when she talked about other things.

“This venom of yours,” she said. “How long until it wears off?”

“Usually a day or two. You should already feel the effects start to lessen in a few hours.”

“You didn’t mention it would last that long when you bit me.” Agatha’s tone wasn’t pointed. It could almost be called conversational. But there was a current underneath it that was hard to ignore, something heavy.

“I’m sorry,” was all Rio could say. She should’ve warned Agatha, but yesterday, her mind had just been focused on one thing.

“No, it’s fine, I don’t blame you. Maybe just… don’t try to come into my room today.”

With that, Agatha turned away, walking upstairs with the cup of tea still in her hand.

Rio couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Not just at what she’d done to Agatha, but at the small part of her that was begging her to do it again. She gave Agatha her privacy, locking herself in her greenhouse all day to tend to her plants. While cleaning up the mess she caused yesterday she quickly hosed away the drops of Agatha’s blood that were still on the floor. She resisted the urge to drop down to the floor and lick the crimson spots clean herself. She wasn’t an animal – or so she told herself, at least.

She distracted herself like that during the course of the day, desperately trying to ignore the way she could feel Agatha’s heartrate spike again and again and again.

---

“Agatha?”

It was late in the evening when Rio set foot inside the house again. Agatha still hadn’t shown her face, though Rio could feel the spikes in her heartrate start to lessen in frequency. Rio had waited until her heartbeat had been slow and steady for an hour before coming back inside.

It was her fault Agatha was feeling like this, the least she could do was give her her privacy.

When Agatha didn’t answer, she carefully knocked on her bedroom door. She heard some shuffling on the other side, and then it slowly creaked open.

Agatha was still wearing the pajamas she’d worn this morning: a white tank top that ended above her navel and some panther print shorts. There was a flush on her cheeks Rio knew had nothing to do with the sweltering heat outside.

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering if you’d join me on my walk to town, to the butcher. Maybe we could grab some dinner on our way?” It was a peace offering for the turmoil she’d caused Agatha, even if she didn’t say it out loud. Besides, judging by the way she’d locked herself in her room all day, Agatha hadn’t eaten anything and she needed her strength.

Agatha thought about it for a moment. Her eyes dropped to Rio’s lips, distracted for a moment. Rio could feel her staring.

“So?” she asked carefully.

Agatha shook her head as if it would help in clearing it. “Sure. Some fresh air might do me some good.” She opened the door wider, allowing Rio to step into her room. Rio tried her best to ignore the scent that lingered there. It was her fault Agatha was like this, she reminded herself again.

Rio sat on the bed as Agatha grabbed some clothes to go change in the bathroom. She looked around; she hadn’t really been in here since Agatha had come to stay with her. It was impressive how Agatha had made the space feel truly like hers in just a matter of days. She saw a stack of books on the nightstand, recognizing many of the titles from her personal library. As she reached over to grab one of them, she felt something hard dig into her ass. Curious, she tried to grab the object from beneath the sheets.

It was relatively small, fitting in the palm of her hand. She wasn’t quite sure what it was. When she pressed the button on one end, it started buzzing.

“Alright, I’m ready to…” Agatha stepped out of the bathroom, cutting herself off when she saw what Rio was holding.

The look in Agatha’s eyes told Rio it was something she shouldn’t be touching.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go through your stuff. I just found it under your sheets.”

“It’s fine,” Agatha said, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

“What is it?”

“You don’t know?”

Rio shook her head, handing the device over to Agatha.

“It’s a pocket rocket.” When Rio kept looking at her with a confused expression, Agatha continued. “It’s like a… massage tool.”

Rio didn’t quite understand what was making Agatha so flustered. Sure, massages could be sort of intimate, but Agatha had a rough day yesterday. It wouldn’t be strange if her muscles felt sore.

“Oh,” Rio said. “But it’s so small. How do you reach your back?”

Agatha was flushed crimson now. “It’s not for your back.”

Rio’s confusion only deepened. “So, how do you–”

“Look, if I show you, will you promise not to speak of this ever again?”

Rio didn’t want to push Agatha, but she was curious. She nodded.

“Okay. Lie back for me.”

As Rio moved to lie back on the back, Agatha moved to hang over her. Her legs were next to Rio’s, her one hand on the side of Rio’s head, holding herself up. With her other hand, she turned on the device.

Now that she was so close, Rio was once again reminded of the venom in Agatha’s veins. Heat was radiating off of Agatha in waves, and she was quickly getting overwhelmed.

“Tell me to stop if you get uncomfortable,” Agatha told her. Rio nodded again.

Agatha held the device to the inside of Rio’s knee. Before Rio could tell her that it kind of tickled, Agatha started moving the device upwards, slowly tracing along the inside of her thigh. Rio was wearing slacks, but she could still feel the vibrations run through her entire body.

Agatha continued moving, getting closer to the apex of her thighs. Rio started to tremble slightly, suddenly realizing what Agatha had meant when she told Rio it was a massager. Agatha stopped just before getting to her intended destination, looking at Rio with a questioning look in her eyes. Her heartrate had picked up again, Rio could tell, but she was much more focused on the way her own breathing had started coming in faster.

Aware that Agatha was still waiting, Rio gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod. When Agatha pushed the device against her core, she jolted. For the first time since last evening, Rio felt thirsty.

She pushed herself further up the bed, her eyes most likely comically large. Agatha was already leaning back, switching off the device.

“Oh,” was all Rio could muster.

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for asking.”

“You’re fine.” Agatha threw the vibrator to the side, climbing off the bed. “So, ready to go?”

“Mhm.”

Both of them ignored the way the tension lingered on their walk into town.

---

Agatha had chosen a small Italian place for dinner. The lighting was dim and they were sitting in a secluded corner – they didn’t need anyone recognizing Rio and causing a stir. The server had brought out bread and olive oil, and Agatha dug in, hungry in a way that wasn’t just about food. Her eyes flicked over to Rio often.

When their pasta arrived they’d settled into a casual conversation, and Rio was glad. A return to normalcy, or some form of it anyway. Rio was careful to keep her limbs to herself, preventing any accidental brushes of hands or ankles. It was like she was back in the Victorian age. Though Rio could still feel the heat simmering beneath Agatha’s skin, she was clearly feeling more relaxed now.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know what a vibrator was.”

Rio looked down at her food. “I’ve heard about it. I just don’t really keep up with… modern advancements.”

Agatha snorted, putting another bite of pasta in her mouth. “I’ll make you a list.”

“Of vibrating things?”

“Of important things.” Her gaze turned teasing. “Though that’s definitely going on the list too.”

Rio tried not to shift in her seat. The corners of Agatha’s mouth were stained slightly red, and all Rio could think about was licking them clean. It wasn’t just the hunger speaking – it was that other feeling, the one that had been rearing its head more and more often around Agatha.

“I’ve wanted to ask,” Agatha interrupted Rio’s thoughts. “What was it like? For you?”

“What?”

“Drinking human blood again after so many years?”

Rio stilled. She hadn’t allowed herself to dwell on it. She knew that if she would, it would only make it that much harder to go back to drinking animal blood. But now that Agatha had asked, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. How, the second Agatha’s blood had hit her tongue, she’d felt alive again. How in that moment in the greenhouse, she would’ve done everything Agatha had asked of her. How tearing herself away from Agatha’s palm had been the hardest thing she’d ever had to do.

Her hand clenched around her fork. “It was… good.”

“Come on, that’s all you have to say?” Agatha teased, but her voice dropped lower when she continued. “Tell me, what did I taste like?” Agatha was still smiling, but the look in her eyes was suddenly more serious. Her mouth was slightly open, her gaze focused on Rio. Rio could feel Agatha’s heart start to beat faster again.

“Agatha…”

They stared at each other for a moment. Agatha cleared her throat. “Sorry, sorry. Shouldn’t have asked. It’s probably that venom of yours talking.”

“Sorry about that, again,” Rio said, feeling guilty. “It’ll wear off soon.”

“Don’t be.” Agatha took a sip of her wine. “I don’t really mind.” Her hand brushed over Rio’s, leaving them both breathing a little more heavily.

They finished their dinner in silence, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. Perhaps that was what scared Rio the most: the fact that, despite everything going on, things between them didn’t feel weird, just heightened.

As they stepped outside of the restaurant, Rio took a second to let the cool evening air wash over her. They walked side by side under the dim streetlights. When Agatha’s hand brushed against hers for the third time, Rio quietly laced their fingers together. Neither of them said anything about it.

The walk to the butcher wasn’t far. When Rio rang the doorbell, the butcher came down quickly, handing her the six two liter bottles of blood that were already standing by the door. She ignored the way her stomach turned at the smell of the animal blood. If Agatha saw the grimace on her face, she didn’t comment on it.

In fact, she looked a bit distracted by the fact that Rio carried the heavy bag with barely any effort.

They took the long way home.

The streets were mostly empty, night truly settling over the town now. There were a few faint stars in the sky, though most of them were blocked out by the clouds. The moon was sitting high in the sky, casting a silver light on their path.

“How are you feeling?” Rio asked quietly as they neared the house.

“Better, mostly. Still a little… restless.”

Rio nodded as she unlocked the front door, letting Agatha in. She carried the bottles to the kitchen, storing them in the fridge.

Agatha turned towards the living room.

“You want to watch something?”

“Sure,” Rio said, pouring herself a glass of blood and Agatha another glass of wine.

They ended up watching some random nature documentary – Rio wasn’t really paying attention. Something about penguins. When she was walking over to the couch with their glasses, Agatha was already there, legs curled under her. Rio sat down next to her, resisting the urge to shift closer.

As Rio took a sip from her glass, she nearly choked. The animal blood tasted like dirt.

“You alright?” Agatha asked.

“Yeah, fine. Just have to get used to the taste again.” She took another sip to demonstrate she was truly okay. What Rio didn’t say lingered in the air. How she wished it was Agatha’s blood she was drinking. How just one taste of her might have ruined her for anything else, forever.

“Glad I’m not the only one suffering.” Agatha winked before focusing back on the tv.

Rio wasn’t really watching the tv. Instead, she watched Agatha. She watched the way Agatha’s thigh rested just inches from hers, the way her fingers twitched every few minutes.

“Would it happen again?” Agatha suddenly asked. “If you bit me?”

Rio’s breath caught in her throat. “Yes.”

“Would it feel the same?”

“Worse.” Rio thought for a second. “Better. More.”

Agatha just hummed, turning her attention back to the tv. Rio took another sip of blood.

The more Rio drank from her glass, the more she became aware of Agatha’s steady, pulsing heartbeat. It was like the venom in Agatha’s blood was affecting her too, like there was something calling out from Agatha’s body that had Rio screaming mine mine mine in her head. She knew it was just her instincts talking. Once she got used to the taste of animal blood again, this would all just be a distant memory.

That was what she was telling herself, anyway. She ignored the voice in her head that told her she wanted to call Agatha hers long before she tasted her blood.

As Rio draped her arm over the back of her couch. Her hand brushed over Agatha’s long, dark locks by accident. Rio didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Then, Agatha shifted, moving backwards just a bit. A silent invitation.

Rio lifted her head and softly threaded her fingers through Agatha’s hair, brushing them back and smoothing them down.

Agatha didn’t move away. She didn’t say anything, either. But Rio felt the way her breath caught. Saw the goosebumps rising on her bare arms.

Rio kept combing her fingers through Agatha’s hair, slow and absentminded, like it wasn’t the most intimate thing she’d done since putting her mouth on Agatha’s palm.

When Rio’s nails scratched over Agatha’s scalp, she let out a soft sigh.

“God,” Agatha said with a breathy laugh. “You can’t just do that. I have a very delicate grip on my self-control right now.”

Rio immediately pulled her hand back.

“I’m sorry,” she said for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few days.

Agatha let out a quiet huff, but she was still smiling. “It’s okay, Rio. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me. I can see how much you’re trying.” A pause. “Besides, it’s only a few more days, right? I’ll get this venom out of my system, you’ll get back to drinking animal blood, and all will be back to normal.” The words ringed false in Rio’s ears, and Agatha didn’t quite look like she was believing what she was saying either.

Agatha got up and stretched, handing Rio the remote. “I should go to bed. Night, Rio.”

“Goodnight, Agatha.”

Rio stayed on the couch for a while, her mind reeling with ideas she wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge yet. The couch cushions still smelled softly of Agatha. When she finally got up to go to bed as well, she dumped her half-empty glass of blood down the sink.

---

After what happened on Monday night, Rio and Agatha had come to the unspoken agreement that they’d try to avoid each other, just for the next couple of days. Rio stayed in her greenhouse most of the day. She’d been trying to reacclimatize her body to animal blood. It wasn’t going well.

If anything, the animal blood had started to taste worse. It had been four days since she’d last drank Agatha’s blood, and her body was still screaming at her to go back for another taste. She couldn’t even blame the venom in Agatha’s blood anymore: it should’ve been flushed out by now. No, Rio had come to the realization that the thing that was telling her to sink her teeth into Agatha’s neck and drink was all her.

While she had been secluding herself in her greenhouse, Agatha had found other ways to keep busy. She’d sorted through all the stuff in Rio’s attic: trinkets and artifacts, memories she’d accumulated over the years. When she had finished labeling all the boxes, she’d moved on to Rio’s bookcase. That took a bit longer to sort: one, because Rio’s collection was huge, and two, because Agatha kept getting distracted by some of the volumes.

More than once Rio had caught Agatha sitting on the couch surrounded by a pile of books, reading glasses almost slipping off her face, completely oblivious to the world around her.

And that was where Rio’s other problem came in: when she looked at Agatha in moments like that, she didn’t feel that sharp pang in her fangs, telling her to drink. Not just that, anyway. No, all she wanted to do when she saw Agatha like that was curl up next to her on the couch, and never leave.

Dusk had just started to settle when Rio came back inside. Agatha was finishing up another shelf in Rio’s bookcase, sorting the books by genre and author. They had dinner together earlier, both of them eating the salad Agatha had made. Agatha quirked her eyebrow when Rio had a glass of water with her dinner instead of blood, but she didn’t say anything.

She’d left her overalls outside, leaving her in a pair of hastily thrown on slacks and a tank top. Agatha was in one of her usual outfits, that was to say, barely wearing anything at all. Somehow the sight of Agatha in a cropped shirt and some tiny shorts still hadn’t lost its appeal to Rio, and she berated herself for focusing on the sliver of skin visible below Agatha’s shirt. She’d probably need to drink another glass of blood soon – Rio already dreaded the thought.

“Can I help?” Rio asked instead, trying to delay that moment.

Agatha craned her neck. For a second, she said nothing, her eyes roaming over Rio’s bare arms. Then, she nodded towards the pile of books next to her feet.

“Can you hand me the books from that pile over there? History, not fiction. I’ve sorted them already, just need to alphabetize them on the shelf.”

“Sure.”

Rio handed her the books one at a time, her fingers brushing with Agatha’s every so often. It wasn’t on purpose, but she couldn’t quite bear to be more careful, either. Her walls were crumbling one by one, and she was tired. So, so tired of trying to keep herself in control.

Agatha didn’t comment on it either, but her breath caught every time their fingers touched. The quiet between them wasn’t uncomfortable, just heavy. Charged.

They worked like that for a while, Rio sitting on her knees, handing Agatha her books. The room was dim, the last light of the day filtering through the windows. It was casting them in a soft, orange hue.

Finally, Agatha arched her back, rubbing at her sore neck.

“That’s that shelf done,” she said. “Just about two dozen left to go.”

She looked down at Rio, smiling. It was one of her soft smiles Rio had gotten to see more often over the past few days. Then she turned back to the bookshelf, admiring her work. Rio was suddenly struck by the thought that Agatha was slowly turning her house into an actual home. Somewhere she could imagine herself living – if maybe not forever, at least a very long time.

As Agatha’s eyes continued to roam over the spines of the books she’d just sorted, Rio let her eyes wander over Agatha’s leg, the way the curve of her thigh disappeared between the hem of her shorts. It looked soft. Bitable.

“It should’ve worn off by now, shouldn’t it?” Agatha asked quietly, her eyes still focused on the bookshelf. “The effects of your venom?”

“Yes.”

Agatha turned around, finally looking down at Rio again.

“So why does it feel like it hasn’t?”

Rio felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“What?”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it. The way your teeth felt on my skin, the way it felt when you… drank from me.” Agatha stepped closer.

“Agatha, you don’t know what you’re saying.” Rio’s voice was strained.

“That’s what I thought. That it was just the venom talking.” Her hands found its way into Rio’s hair, and Rio couldn’t help but let out a small whimper. Wanting to steady herself, she grabbed Agatha’s legs for support. She instantly realized her mistake: beneath Agatha’s skin, she felt her blood humming, like it was begging Rio to be tasted just as much as Rio wanted to taste it.

“It’s not though, is it?” Agatha continued. “It’s been days, and I still dream about the way you whimpered when you felt that first drop of my blood hit your tongue. The way your hands trembled around mine, like it was taking every bit of strength you had not to ruin me.”

Rio’s grasp on Agatha’s legs tightened. “Don’t–”

“It did, by the way. Ruin me. But I think it ruined you too.”

“Agatha…”

“I think you liked how I tasted.” She pulled Rio closer by her hair, her cheek now resting on Agatha’s naked thigh. Rio was still looking up at her. Agatha’s eyes were almost fully black, barely any trace of blue left in them.

There was a ringing in Rio’s ears. Her fangs ached – sharp, already on the verge of slipping free.

“Don’t do this,” Rio rasped.

“Why not?” Agatha tilted her head. The way it left her neck exposed had Rio whimpering again. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You didn’t want to stop last time.”

She reached for Rio’s hands, guiding them higher up to back of her thighs. She wasn’t shaking. She didn’t look scared. If anything, she looked triumphant.

“I want you to lose control,” she said. “I want to know what it feels like when you don’t hold back.”

Rio let out a growl – quiet, involuntary – as she felt the last bit of her restraint snap. Her fangs extended, and she pressed them against the soft skin of Agatha’s thigh. Not biting; just resting there.

“Is this what you want?” she asked, voice guttural. “For me to lose it? To sink my teeth into you and take and take and take until you can’t stand?”

Agatha licked her lips, her hand tightening in Rio’s hair once again.

“God, yes.”

That did it. Rio surged forward with a snarl, pinning Agatha against the bookshelf. Her hands were gripping Agatha’s thighs hard enough to bruise. She could smell… Fuck, everything. Agatha’s perfume, her blood, her arousal. Rio started nipping at the skin of Agatha’s thigh, not quite hard enough to break the skin, but not gentle enough to just be considered kissing, either.

She slowly got up from where she was sitting, letting Agatha’s hand guide her, letting her teeth graze at the soft skin of her stomach like she’d been wanting to do since the moment she saw Agatha in that town square.

When they finally came eye to eye, Agatha captured Rio’s lips in a violent, desperate kiss. Her hand was still in Rio’s hair, gripping and pulling. Her hips were bucking into Rio’s thigh, the one that had found its way between Agatha’s own.

As Agatha moaned against her lips, Rio finally let the hunger win.

“Say stop,” Rio growled as she moved to press her lips against Agatha’s throat.

“I won’t.”

Then, Rio bit her.

Her fangs sank into the delicate skin of Agatha’s neck, and Agatha cried out – in pain, at first, until the sharp sting melted into pleasure as Rio’s venom entered her bloodstream. She pushed Rio closer, her hips still bucking against Rio’s thigh.

As soon as Agatha’s blood hit Rio’s tongue, she felt that familiar feeling of euphoria creep over her again. She moaned against Agatha’s skin as the voice in her head was telling her to take more. She drank greedily, hands roaming over Agatha’s bare stomach, pulling at Agatha as if she could never be close enough.

Agatha was trembling in her arms, but it wasn’t from fear. It was fire and want, panting through every pulse of blood Rio took from her.

For once, Rio allowed herself to let go. She let her teeth scrape across the open wound, enjoying the way Agatha’s hiss morphed into a moan as Rio’s lips attached itself to her neck again. Her hands found its way to Agatha’s ass and pulled, giving Agatha something to grind against. The room echoed with a mix of their moans and the sound of Rio sucking the blood from Agatha’s throat, animalistic and gentle all at once.

When Rio felt Agatha’s heartrate – the one she’d been so attuned to since the moment Agatha had showed up in her life – start to slow down, she finally pulled back. Her eyes were glowing crimson, the same color that was no doubt running down her chin. She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, a movement Agatha immediately tracked with her eyes.

Agatha leaned in, softly brushing over Rio’s lips with her own, capturing them in a soft kiss. When she pulled back, droplets of her blood now staining her own lips red, Agatha smirked.

“Told you.”

Rio’s voice was hoarse as she wiped the blood from her chin, softly kissing the spot where she’d just bitten Agatha.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

Agatha leaned in, kissing the shell of Rio’s ear. “Killing a vampire. I’ll be the new town hero.” Rio grabbed the back of Agatha’s thighs, allowing her to wrap her legs around Rio’s waist.

“Has anyone ever told you that this vampire strength thing of yours is a huge turn-on?”

Rio smirked against the skin of her neck as she carried Agatha over to the couch, the one they spent so many evenings on. “No, never, please tell me again.”

As soon as Rio laid Agatha down on the couch Agatha switched their positions, straddling Rio’s lap with her warm thighs on either side of Rio’s hips. She pushed her hips down just once, causing Rio to groan, before leaning in next to her ear and whispering, “The way you pushed me against those shelves just now got me so fucking wet, Rio.”

Agatha leaned back just in time to see Rio’s fangs extend themselves again.

“Having a little trouble controlling yourself, baby?” She rolled her hips down again, pushing her hands underneath the hem of Rio’s tank top. “Take this off. I want to see you.”

Rio shivered. “Yes, Agatha.” Agatha could ask her to do anything right now, and she’d comply. She took of her tank top, taking her bra with it.

“Oh, I could get used to the sound of that.” Agatha kissed her again, slower this time but no less hungry. Her hands slid over Rio’s now bare breasts, reverent and possessive. Rio let herself feel everything – Agatha’s weight in her lap, the press of her chest against hers, the way her fingers trembled as they brushed over her nipples, never stopping their touch.

Agatha only broke the kiss to pull off her own shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra – something that had infuriated Rio to no end when Agatha had started living with her, but that she was now silently grateful for. As Rio surged forward to take Agatha’s nipples into her mouth, earning her a soft moan, Agatha’s fingers quickly pulled off her shorts. When Rio pulled back, she could see the glisten from between Agatha’s thighs. Without thinking, she moved her hand between them, swiping up some of her arousal and putting her now slick-covered fingers in her mouth.

The taste was different from Agatha’s blood, but no less addictive. Before Rio could move her fingers back, Agatha stopped her.

“Lie back,” she whispered, pupils blown.

Rio blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.”

Rio obeyed, heart thundering as she lay back against the arm rest of the couch. Agatha followed, settling over her with a slow, deliberate grind of her hips that had them both groaning.

She kissed her way down Rio’s chest, tongue flicking teasingly, teeth just barely scraping. Rio’s hands found their way into Agatha’s wild mane of hair, but she wasn’t guiding – just holding. She was completely at Agatha’s mercy now.

And Agatha knew it.

“I love the way you taste,” she murmured, kissing over Rio’s stomach. “I want to know how you taste when you come.”

Rio cursed, hands clenching.

Agatha slid her fingers into the waistband of Rio’s slacks, pulling them down inch by inch, never breaking eye contact. When she leaned in, her mouth replacing her hand, Rio almost came undone on the spot.

Agatha moved slow. Teasing. Tracing Rio’s inner thighs with her mouth, blowing cool air over heated skin. When her tongue flicked over Rio’s heated core, light and maddening, Rio bucked her hips. Agatha pulled back.

“Patience,” she said with a wicked smile.

“I don’t have any left,” Rio growled. It was true. Rio was getting dangerously close to coming untouched.

“Guess I’ll have to move quickly, then.”

When Agatha finally gave in, moving her tongue over Rio’s clit with sharp, precise licks, something inside of Rio snapped. She moaned and writhed beneath her, every touch bringing her close to her impending orgasm. When Agatha slid her fingers into her, first one, then two, Rio sobbed.

“You’re so tight for me, baby,” Agatha whispered against her core between licks. “How long have you been waiting for this?”

“For– Fuck, forever,” Rio moaned, delirious. The feeling of Agatha between her thighs was overwhelming, like something she’d been waiting for all her life.

When Agatha curled her fingers, she broke. She came fast and hard, body trembling, vision whiting out as she cried Agatha’s name.

But Agatha didn’t stop.

She coaxed her through it, turning the aftershocks into something new. Her touch turned gentle, lips brushing over Rio’s thighs, her stomach, her nipples, before crawling back up to kiss her again – deep, slow, indulgent.

Her fingers were still slowly moving inside of Rio when she murmured, “You’re unreal. Like something out of my fever dreams.”

Rio kissed her fiercely, flipping them so Agatha was under her now, laughing against her mouth.

“My turn.”

She grabbed Agatha’s wrists, pinning them above her head as she kissed her again before moving further down. Her lips lingered over the bitemark on Agatha’s neck, nipping at the spot that was still tender from before. Agatha moaned.

Rio continued kissing her way down Agatha’s body. When she finally sank between her thighs, Agatha arched up with a cry, one hand coming down to clench in Rio’s hair.

“I never want to stop tasting you,” Rio moaned.

She took Agatha apart slowly and deliberately, savoring every sound, every tremor, until Agatha was writhing beneath her, breathless and gasping, her voice breaking on Rio’s name as she came.

Just like Agatha, Rio didn’t stop. For maybe the thousandth time in her life, Rio was glad she didn’t have any neighbors – because Agatha was loud. It wasn’t just the wet sound of Rio’s tongue moving against her core, or the desperate moans and whimpers Agatha wasn’t even trying to suppress. As was so often the case, Agatha couldn’t stop talking. Whispers of please and more and fuck, yes all melded together into one long sentence, until the sound of her name made Rio pause.

“Hm?” she asked, unwilling to move far enough away from Agatha to be able to say anything more eloquent.

Agatha was staring at her, open-mouthed and with half-lidded eyes, when she spoke the two words that unraveled the last shred of control Rio had tried to hold on to the entire day.

“Bite me.”

As if given a command – which it might as well have been – Rio sank her teeth into Agatha’s inner thigh. The taste of her blood mixed with the taste of her arousal, and Rio knew that what Agatha had said earlier was true: she was utterly ruined, forever.

She wrung a second and a third orgasm out of Agatha in quick succession, rolling her hips into seat of the couch as she felt herself getting worked up again. She didn’t care, all she wanted was to taste Agatha, forever.

But Agatha noticed.

“Fuck, Rio, please, I want you to come with me.” Rio bucked her hips into the couch again at Agatha’s words, refocusing her efforts on Agatha’s clit.

In the end, it didn’t take much – just the feeling of Agatha tightening around her fingers once again as she moaned out Rio’s name like a prayer.

Afterward, they lay tangled together on the couch, the sky outside now completely dark.

Rio turned her head towards Agatha, breath still uneven. “Sleep in my bed tonight?”

Agatha smiled against her shoulder. “As long as you carry me. I don’t think I can walk.”

Rio moved closer, placing a soft kiss on Agatha’s lips. “Of course.”

They didn’t move for a long time. The moonlight was now filtering through the window, the air turning colder, but inside it was quiet, warm. Full of something that had nothing to do with blood, but an altogether different kind of hunger.

---

Morning came slow.

In the end, they’d fallen asleep in Agatha’s room. It was closer to the stairs, and Rio wasn’t unwilling to admit that, as she carried Agatha up, her strength had well and truly left her. Agatha had made a half-baked joke about Rio just wanting to be closer to her vibrator before nuzzling back into her neck again and closing her eyes, already snoring softly when Rio had laid her down in bed.

Rio hadn’t slept, but she hadn’t had a restless night either. For once, there was nowhere else she wanted to be. The room smelled like warmth and salt, and something sharper underneath – blood, maybe, but something else, too.

Agatha was curled against her chest, one leg thrown over Rio’s hip, her hair a disheveled mess on the pillow and Rio’s shoulder. She looked soft. Not just relaxed; unguarded. Rio was long past believing in deities, but she thanked whatever power was out there that she got to see Agatha like this.

The bite on her neck had already begun to heal, Rio’s saliva speeding things along, but faint traces were still visible. Rio ghosted a finger along the edge of the mark, careful not to wake Agatha. The skin there was flushed, tender. Beautiful.

Agatha stirred anyway, blinking up at her, eyes still heavy with sleep. Her voice was scratchy. “You’re staring.”

“I am.”

Agatha shifted, stretching her body like a cat, then winced as her hand brushed her neck. “I’m sore.”

“You weren’t complaining last night.” Rio smirked.

Agatha gave a sleepy smile, eyes fluttering closed again. “I was a little distracted.”

Rio let her fingers brush through Agatha’s hair. “Good.”

Agatha nuzzled into Rio’s shoulder, letting the soft touch of Rio’s hands soothe her. When Rio’s hand brushed over the bitemark again, she paused.

“Are you feeling guilty?” Agatha asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“No,” Rio replied, smiling. “I’m thinking of ways I could make that mark on your neck stick.”

Agatha blinked at her, a little more awake now.

“Fuck,” she murmured. “You can’t say things like that first thing in the morning.”

“Why?”

“Because then I’ll kiss you again. And we’ll never get out of bed.”

“I don’t really see a problem there.”

Agatha laughed, pulling Rio into a soft kiss. It was slow, unhurried.

“So, we’ll do this again?”

Rio looked at her. “Agatha, I don’t think we could stop if we tried.”

Outside, the sun was starting to come up. The birds had begun to sing, ringing in the start of a new day. But inside this bed they shared, all Rio could think about was the way Agatha had looked at her last night, dark and needy, and the way Agatha was looking at her now, open and trusting.

And then, when Agatha kissed her again, Rio stopped thinking entirely.