(no subject)
Vecchio. Ray Vecchio.
Shake it, don't stir it.
Shake it, don't stir it.
Rasher fic
The Morning After (The Night Before)
[takes place after this]
Ray could barely look at him. Didn’t think he would ever look at him the same again. There had been a reason Asher had kept that part from him, partitioned it off, kept it behind closed doors. When he had asked to be shown what it was to be a true vampire, he hadn’t realised that Asher would be revealing a side of himself that Ray had never witnessed before. He knew Asher fed, he knew Asher killed, but knowing and seeing were two completely different things.
Ray had been so trapped within, obsessed with how he would feel about himself afterwards, that he never stopped to think how he would feel about Asher. But that was typical nowadays, the selfishness. Ray blamed Asher for indulging it and blamed him when he didn’t.
“So do you?”
Ray was startled and glanced up, eyes quickly flicking away once he’d established who it was. He leaned his elbows on the conference table, bowing his head to study his reflection. “Do I what?”
“Hate yourself this morning.”
Ray could have cried at the twisted irony. He shut his eyes, images of a body, bite marks and two bloody mouths filtering through the darkness.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Yeah,” Ray replied weakly, climbing out of his chair. “I do. I’m sorry.”
Asher shrugged it off. “I don’t want an apology.” Judging by the way Vecchio had been acting since they returned, he thought it was a safe bet to say the other man had been repulsed enough not to want to try it again.
“I’m still sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” When he leaned in to kiss Asher, all he could taste between them was the lingering blood, blood so alive and vibrant that it made Ray’s lips quiver from the memory. He couldn’t remember what Asher tasted like. Just blood and more blood.
Pulling away, Asher studied him warily. “I think I preferred your self-pity…”
It wasn’t Asher’s fault. Ray had pushed so hard without thinking about the consequences, without contemplating for a moment that it could devastate four years of comparative happiness. If Ray stayed, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop, that every new body would become another brick in the wall now building up between them.
Asher fed and Asher killed. Ray could just about deal with those evils inside himself, but witnessing them within Asher shook every last bit of him to pieces.
When he leaned back, he licked his lower lip and backed away.
“It’s on me,” he murmured, forcing himself to take one last look. But he didn’t find what he was looking for. “I’m sorry.”
[takes place after this]
Ray could barely look at him. Didn’t think he would ever look at him the same again. There had been a reason Asher had kept that part from him, partitioned it off, kept it behind closed doors. When he had asked to be shown what it was to be a true vampire, he hadn’t realised that Asher would be revealing a side of himself that Ray had never witnessed before. He knew Asher fed, he knew Asher killed, but knowing and seeing were two completely different things.
Ray had been so trapped within, obsessed with how he would feel about himself afterwards, that he never stopped to think how he would feel about Asher. But that was typical nowadays, the selfishness. Ray blamed Asher for indulging it and blamed him when he didn’t.
“So do you?”
Ray was startled and glanced up, eyes quickly flicking away once he’d established who it was. He leaned his elbows on the conference table, bowing his head to study his reflection. “Do I what?”
“Hate yourself this morning.”
Ray could have cried at the twisted irony. He shut his eyes, images of a body, bite marks and two bloody mouths filtering through the darkness.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Yeah,” Ray replied weakly, climbing out of his chair. “I do. I’m sorry.”
Asher shrugged it off. “I don’t want an apology.” Judging by the way Vecchio had been acting since they returned, he thought it was a safe bet to say the other man had been repulsed enough not to want to try it again.
“I’m still sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” When he leaned in to kiss Asher, all he could taste between them was the lingering blood, blood so alive and vibrant that it made Ray’s lips quiver from the memory. He couldn’t remember what Asher tasted like. Just blood and more blood.
Pulling away, Asher studied him warily. “I think I preferred your self-pity…”
It wasn’t Asher’s fault. Ray had pushed so hard without thinking about the consequences, without contemplating for a moment that it could devastate four years of comparative happiness. If Ray stayed, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop, that every new body would become another brick in the wall now building up between them.
Asher fed and Asher killed. Ray could just about deal with those evils inside himself, but witnessing them within Asher shook every last bit of him to pieces.
When he leaned back, he licked his lower lip and backed away.
“It’s on me,” he murmured, forcing himself to take one last look. But he didn’t find what he was looking for. “I’m sorry.”
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