I’m writing about a queer vampire
The story is called Turns of fate, and is available on AO3. It is set in Oakhurst, the ruins of an ancient town mysteriously rediscovered by fourteen strangers, including two vampires. Although it takes place in the world of Vampires SMP, no prior knowledge of the series is required.
Circumstances force a vampire to cooperate with a vampire hunter
(One of the strengths of Turns of Fate is that the relationship doesn’t jump from “enemies” to “friends.” Instead, it evolves in stages, with each stage feeling earned because Oakhurst continually forces the characters to reassess what they know about each other.)
Owen held Avid as firmly as his position allowed, sucking his blood until he felt Avid’s heart slowing down. He held him close while fumbling slightly as he tried to seal the artery. Blood spurted out, and some got into his eye. He had to reach a little deeper into the wound with his tongue to stop the bleeding through pressure and the vitae in his saliva.
As he shifted and slid his teeth into the jugular vein instead, he began injecting his venom. Almost instantly, Avid started to sob. What now? He was crying? What was Owen supposed to do about that? Drinking the blood and then releasing the venom - that was the procedure, right? Wasn’t that how Louis had said it was done? Should he pull away?
But then Avid changed, stretching his body against Owen’s torso as though in relief. Well, maybe that was a good sign. Owen recalled the feeling of his own turning dimly: the high of the venom taking hold and doing its work, rushing through the body, sending a surge of elation up the spine and into the head.
Owen kept holding Avid tightly while the last of the venom entered his bloodstream, making sure he received every last drop. Then he slowly withdrew his fangs.
Owen remembered to lick the fresh bite wound so that his vitae would heal the skin quickly. Once he was finished, he regretted greedily choosing the artery first and leaving double bite marks. After all, he should not have left such sloppy marks on his first fledgling, he brooded. Louis had made them much neater.
This had never been part of his plan. But now there he was, Owen’s proper fledgling. A strange feeling. Was he… pleased?
As Avid fell asleep on his arm, Owen kept his brand-new fledgling near him, drawing his cloak up around him.
Even after the turning was complete, he kept his fledgling’s still-warm body close. He tried to focus on the contours of Avid’s back against his chest through their clothes, while forcing his attention away from the cold, invasive block of stone digging into his side.
And then it was there again: the beast in his belly. The ache and sickness returning. When he vomited up the precious blood he had taken, a sense of doom rose in him, as if darkness itself were creeping closer, ready to swallow him whole.
Owen only thought:
He was not meant to live.
He would have to make Avid stake him when he woke.
He panted, exhausted from the stomach cramps when he heard a familiar voice:
“And what exactly are you two doing in my house?”