He couldn’t remember the last time someone had offered this kind of simple support. The von Rothenburg way was to power through discomfort, to never show weakness. Even as children, skinned knees and twisted ankles were met with stern reminders to maintain composure. Felix might squeeze his shoulder after a rough training session, but anything more was seen as coddling.
The absurdity of the situation hit him. After twenty-three years of rigid family standards, hunter training, and a serious lack of long-term relationships, it would be a vampire who first showed him this kind of unthinking care.
Adam Matthews. The First Son. One of the most dangerous creatures in existence had just slipped an arm around him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Leo fought down a slightly hysterical laugh. His ancestors were probably rolling in their graves.
The hallway outside the council chamber hummed with the comfortable energy of a space well-used by its community. Wooden floors, worn smooth by countless footsteps over the years, stretched before them. The high ceilings were adorned with simple pendant lights that cast warm pools of light, making the underground space feel less like a tunnel and more like a favorite old library or community center.
The walls were a gallery of the Court’s history—not the formal oil paintings Leo might have expected, but a mix of photographs, local artwork, and personal mementos. He spotted decades of group photos, newspaper clippings preserved behind glass, even a few framed concert posters from shows at the Moulin Coeur.
The alcoves spaced along the walls held sturdy, comfortable furniture—the kind meant to be used rather than just looked at. Some sofas showed signs of recent reupholstering, while others proudly wore their worn patches like badges of honor.
They passed several alcoves that were occupied. Leo felt the weight of curious stares, heard the whispered conversations that followed in their wake. His face burned as he realized what he must look like—shirtless, disheveled, practically plastered to Adam’s side. The vampire’s arm tightened around him.
“The main corridors run directly under the streets above,” Adam explained, gesturing to where a wider hallway intersected with theirs. “They’re about twelve feet wide to accommodate golf carts—makes it easier for mortal Court members to get around.”
Leo noticed signs mounted at the junction, pointing the way to various destinations: Rec Center, Grocery, Pool, Lounge, Bar.
“How much of this is there?” he asked, fascinated despite himself.
“Miles,” Adam replied. “The Court has been expanding since...” He paused as Leo stumbled, catching him easily. “Are you alright?”
Leo wasn’t sure how to answer. His head felt foggy, thoughts sliding sideways the moment he tried to grab hold of them. The pull toward Adam returned in force. That magnetic, inevitable feeling had him pressing closer with every step. He could feel his pulse quickening, skin growing hot wherever they touched.
Adam steered him gently toward an empty alcove, his hand a quiet command at Leo’s back. Leo followed without question, too dazed to resist and too desperate to be close. There was concern in Adam’s eyes—but something else, too. Hunger. Tension. As if even he didn’t know what would happen next.
“The compatibility,” he said, brushing Leo’s hair back from his forehead. “It’s affecting you.”
Leo wanted to ask if Adam felt the same way, but the words wouldn’t come. He leaned into the vampire’s touch, seeking more contact. The part of his mind that should have been mortified at his neediness seemed very far away.
Leo’s legs wobbled, his vision blurring at the edges. The memory of their previous encounter in the garage—the intensity of their connection—flashed through his mind. “We’ve already done this once,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
His voice felt small in the alcove’s hush, like a prayer left at an altar. Part of him wanted Adam to say something—anything—but the silence held. All that moved was the heat rising between them.
Without a word, Adam’s hands dropped to Leo’s waist. A swift, sharp tug, and Leo’s pants disintegrated, the sound of tearing fabric slicing through the quiet like a whipcrack. He gasped, shocked, as cool air hit his bare skin. Adam’s hands gripped his hips, fingers digging in.
“I needed those,” Leo managed, voice thin and uneven.
“Not anymore,” Adam replied, low and rough.
The couch creaked. Leo’s eyes snapped open just in time to see Adam sit, legs spread, cock already thick and ready betweenthem. His gaze burned, pinning Leo in place as he pulled him closer.
Adam’s hands found him then, turning Leo with fluid precision—a smooth twist of his body that left him facing away, legs between Adam’s spread thighs. Leo barely had time to catch his breath before Adam’s hands were back at his waist, guiding him down.
No prep. No lube. Just the slick, filthy aftermath of their earlier encounter.
Leo gasped as the blunt head of Adam’s cock pressed against his rim. There was no pause, no hesitation, just a slow, brutal slide inward.
“F-fuck—” Leo choked, back arching, body caught between instinct to flee and the overwhelming, desperate need to be filled.
Adam didn’t stop. One arm banded across Leo’s chest and tightened, pulling him back against a wall of muscle. The pressure was just shy of too much—a warning, a claim, a collar made of flesh and power.
“So fucking open for me,” Adam growled, voice low against his ear. “You were made to be filled like this.”
Leo whimpered, a sound halfway between surrender and begging, as Adam seated himself fully inside, so deep Leo swore he could feel it behind his ribs.
“Look at you,” Adam whispered, his breath hot against Leo’s ear. He nipped at the lobe, then sucked it gently, tongue dragging slow and deliberate. Leo shivered, his head tipping to the side in an unconscious offering.
