Well! here's the first chapter of this fic! it's still in progress, i'm working on chapter four, but i will finish it for sure. i promise you guys i will XD i'm really enjoying it so far-its fun to write. i hope you guys like it, although vampire!Heero is a little cliche.

well, enjoy! and merry christmas!

Bloodstained Devotion

Chapter 1

Like No Other

There is nothing like feeling a human struggle against you as the first drops of blood are drawn, nothing like the sweet sense of fear emanating from the stranger's body that you clutch so close. There is nothing like the feel of your victim going weak and finally collapsing into you, signaling that it is almost time for you to stop, given you intend to let them live; if their blood is too sweet to savor only one time...

It is with these thoughts, that I prowl the town at midnight, searching for any strangers who might be out wandering, any windows of the many buildings that are lit, a sure sign that its occupant is still awake.

In only a matter of minutes, I spot an apartment building with a lighted window on the top floor. I start walking towards the building, only a step, and as the second pace is complete, I am standing in the room with the light on. It is a quaint room, furnished simply with a bed, desk and dresser. The door to the adjoining bathroom is closed, light coming out from under the door. I can hear the sink running within. All is quiet in the next few moments, before the door opens and a young man—no older than the age I appeared to be—steps out. He does not notice me. In the frozen, long, yet short moments that he is unknowing of my presence, I take in all that I can from what I see.

His hair is long, longer than I've ever seen on a man. It is bound in a loose braid, as if he hadn't bothered with it since early this morning. He wore a pair of loose, low-rise sweats, which gently hugged his hips and dragged on the floor behind his heels. The long sleeve shirt he wore was tight, however, making his lithe muscles seem well defined against the shadow of the solid black fabric. But that was when he saw me. His eyes were violet, so full of life—a complete contrast to my cold, emotionless cobalt blue. Before even a gasp could pass by his perfect, incredibly kissable lips, I had my arms wrapped around him in an iron grip. I had one hand at the back of his head, tilting it to the side and leaving his neck bare. The pale skin was just as beautiful as the rest of him.

The young man began to thrash out against me, however, hitting and kicking at all the places that would've surely brought me to my knees, had I been human. Sure, I was easily susceptible to wounds, but nothing from an unarmed human that I had in my clutches could bother me in any way. And yet I thought to myself, 'Good. He's a fighter.'

With a fang-baring smirk, my eyes locked with his for the briefest of moments, before I leaned in and plunged my sharp fangs into the delicate skin of his neck. His body froze, shuddered against mine for a moment, before he let out a strangled cry of agony. I just held him still, knowing that if he struggled, he'd only do himself more damage; I didn't want to leave any unnecessary marks on his beautiful skin—even the two from my fangs were more than enough. His outburst of a cry had been reduced to small, whimpering gasps of distress; the weakening, fearful sounds slipping past his lips like someone who had given up the fight to live... He surely had.

Finally, with him beginning to cooperate, I was able to really pay attention to the hot, red liquid that I was stealing from his lithe body. I noticed a distinct difference in the taste of his blood. It had an almost... metallic hint to it. I instantly knew that this man was of the colonies, was born from a test tube rather than a human mother. Some vampires I knew hated the difference, claimed that the colonists were only 'imitation prey', but I thought differently... the colonists had some of the sweetest blood I'd ever tasted, and there were so few of them here on Earth... And as a further note, his blood held a wonderful richness that I could not define, something hidden within that stood in the shadows, only partly visible... I would definitely be leaving this man alive. His blood was simply too sweet to taste only once.

The man struggled weakly against me, his stamina fading—I could feel his pulse beginning to slow. And soon, it was only his hands that were weakly pushing against me, his body too weak to act as instinct directed it to. It was clear that he expected death, that he did not believe he would wake once the darkness took him. But he was wrong. Because I'd be coming back. I could already feel an addiction starting to take hold. This man's blood... it was like nothing I had ever tasted before. And the way his small body fit against mine, the traces of warmth radiating from his pallid skin... I knew I'd never settle for the blood of an average human ever again.

His breath came in shaky, labored rasps now, and I knew it was time I finally released him. The man was still conscious, if only just, and I felt him shudder against me, ever so slightly, as I pulled my fangs from his neck and licked my lips. His legs gave way beneath him not a moment later, and with the quietest of distressed whimpers, he collapsed into me, unconscious. I waited a moment before reacting, licking at the two small holes that I had made in his throat, tasting his blood one last time for tonight. Carefully, I leaned him back in my arms, and then lifted him up. He was so light... I briefly wondered if I had taken too much blood from such a small body.

In four steps, I was at the side of the unmade bed, lying the man down on it and pulling the many covers up over him. If I was going to let him live, I had to make sure he actually did... especially since I might have taken more blood than I should have. He had a distressed expression on his perfect face, something that I had grown used to seeing on all the corpses that I had drained dry. With a rare, nearly inaudible sigh, I entered the bathroom across the room and found a small dispenser with tiny paper cups. I filled one up in the sink, then brought it over and helped him drink it, knowing reflex would force him to swallow the cool, human-life sustaining, liquid. I did this a few times, knowing that humans had to replenish the water in their bodies if they ever wanted to regain the blood that had been lost. After that, I found some gauze in the medicine cabinet of his bathroom, and returned to gently wrap it around his neck. The wound I left would be completely healed by the next nightfall, leaving only a faint, pale scar as proof of its existence.

So I stood there, next to his bed, for hours. I watched him sleep, watched the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Breathing... I had long since forgotten how. For a few moments, I let myself try to remember, to fall back to the hazy memories of exactly two hundred years ago, at the start of the After Colony era, when I was still human. When I was mortal. I had always taken for granted, the constant air entering and leaving my lungs, never paid attention to the rhythmic beating of my heart. When I had first been changed, the sudden absence was shocking—it made me resent what I had become that much more. I had never wanted to become a vampire. I had grown up hating their kind, wanting to kill every last one of them. But in my twentieth year of life, I had been changed into hat I despised... and it was the life I had been given; I had no choice but to live it to its fullest potential.

A pale, cold ray of sunlight, from the window near the bed, struck me from my muses. I quickly shied away from it, taking several steps out of the way. Sunlight was one of the worst attributes of this world, although it didn't affect us the way most humans thought it did. Most of us, especially the younger vampires, called fledglings, had a very low tolerance for bright light. It hurt our eyes. Sunlight, however, literally weakened us. The stronger the vampire, the greater an effect the sun had; although because we were stronger, we could tolerate it much longer. After about an hour of direct sunlight, though, we'd only be at about three fourths of our usual strength. Any amount of time in the sun was usually followed by an hour or two drinking blood to replenish the lost energy. By all means though, sunlight was far from lethal; the worst that could happen was ending up as if you'd fasted for several months on end.

With a frown, I took a few steps back into the sunlight. I had to check on the man one last time before I left. He seemed just fine—he'd surely wake up in a few hours. And so, with only a whim to set myself into motion, I was gone from his bedroom. In a fraction of a second, I was back in my own home. I spent most of my time here, the majority of which was during the day when I slept. I lived in what could be categorized as a small mansion. There were several bedrooms, a grand library and study, a giant dining room, to name a few. But I lived alone here. The owner before me, an elderly vampire who lost his life to one of Aoiro's line (which I was a part of), had left this place abandoned and I claimed it for myself. I retreated up the long, winding staircase, down the hall, to the room with the great double doors. My bedroom.

I entered the room and shrugged out of my long coat, draping it over the chair by the door. Thick curtains blocked the light from every window, casting a dim shadow upon the room. I lit a single candle, setting it on my nightstand. I wasn't tired, but I changed into softer clothes and eased into my soft bed. I only took up a small edge of the large king size bed, completely with dark oak posts and a canopy on top. I leaned back on my pillow, reaching blindly for the book on my nightstand. It was a current novel. Fiction. A story about 'mythical' vampires and their trespasses into the human world. I enjoyed these kind of books, simply to marvel at either how wrong, or how close to the truth these human writers really were. I turned to the page I had left off, yesterday, and began to read. But I found that I was unable to focus.

That man that I had left alive... I just could not get him out of my head. The images of his fear when he first saw me, of his resignation to death as he collapsed in my arms, of him sleeping peacefully in his bed as the first rays of sunlight forced me to leave... they would not leave my minds eye. There was something more to him. Something I had never felt towards a human, towards anyone, before. This was definitely deeper than a brief predator-prey experience. His blood had been the sweetest, his body the most beautiful... I couldn't wait to hear his voice—actual spoken words, rather than strangled whimpers. I couldn't wait to see him again, to hold him against me, to feel his much too gentle hands trying to push me away. Was I falling in love with this stranger? This human?

I put my book down, staring up at the dark canopy of the bed. In the very least, I would have to blood bond him to me. That way, he would live until I died. He would be linked to me, share a telepathic link. If I was to do that, then change him later on, the link would remain, until one of us died, or bonded to another. If I bonded him to me, I would have an endless supply of his blood... no one else would be permitted to even have a taste. He would be mine. He would belong to me.

With a heavy sigh, I slung my arm over my eyes. I would go to see him as soon as night fell, later today. If he wasn't there, I would wait. We would talk; I would tell him who I was, what I was, what I wanted with him. He would be scared, probably threaten me, but I would grab him and hold him so close... I wouldn't bond him to me, not yet. It was too soon. I would wait until for initial fear to subside.

I blinked, still not tired, but having nothing better to do to pass the time. I rolled over, placing my book on the nightstand. I gathered a puff of air into my mouth and blew out the candle—a skill I had acquired after losing my ability to breathe. I lay back down in the bed and closed my eyes, willing the deathlike, vampiric sleep to take its hold. I did not dream...

. . .

The setting sun woke me, in the same sense that dawn woke a human, and I sat up in the bed. I felt the same as I had earlier—not groggy or sleepy or rested, like a human would after sleeping—I was just hungry. I needed blood. I hadn't taken very much from that man last night, even though any more surely would've been too much for him. I was used to draining a human much larger than him, completely dry. So I stood up, went and showered and dressed and everything, before stepping out into the cool night air. Only it wasn't in front of my house—I had brought myself to the alley by a bar near that man's apartment. I made my way out to the front, entered the bar, and stood in a dim corner until I spotted someone worthy of my bite.

I took a few steps forward, out into the bustle of the busy, happy hour crowd. I discretely drew my silver knife, an intricate blade that had been crafted back in the days of Magic, as a means to kill vampires such as myself. I purposefully bumped into the man who I had selected—a young, despondent looking fellow, who was surely about to drink more alcohol than he should—and gently pressed the end of the sharp blade into his side. He tensed, and I hissed in passing, "Walk. Out the side door. Into the alley." My voice was cold, haunting. He shivered, as if he could feel my fangs nearly brushing against his ear. He did as I had instructed, and I discreetly followed him out into the dim alleyway. As soon as the heavy side door closed behind me, I had him pressed up against the wall, my knife at his throat.

"Y-You can have my money," he stammered, looking up and away. He was obviously terrified. "J-just please... I-if y-you're going to kill me, m-make it quick," his tone was pleading, almost as if he was welcoming the end. Good. Sometimes it was harder to kill those who pleaded for me to let them live, those who I knew would be a tragic loss. I was somewhat sympathetic when it came to petty humans.

"I don't need your stinking money," I growled, baring my razor sharp fangs. I'm sure he though I was some sort of demon... and he wasn't far from the truth. Before he could even make a noise of panic, I holstered my knife and pressed my hand over his mouth, using it to prevent any agonized cries, as well as tip his head to the side, exposing his throat. I pressed my body harder against him as I sank my fangs into his flesh, the familiar taste of normal human blood filing my mouth. He didn't fight back, just shuddered against me and slowly gave in. He was probably one of those humans who enjoyed getting their blood sucked out of them—the problem with that was: most of them didn't know that vampires existed, so they just cut themselves to see the crimson fluid run. Many of us thought that was a horrible waste of what some might deem to be such a sweet liquid—while others would rather settle for the adrenaline rich blood of those who were terrified of what they were about to face.

The entire time, as my victim grew weaker and weaker, I wondered what it would be like if the man from last night was one of the few who enjoyed being fed on. Would he let me sink my teeth into him willingly? Or would he fight me? It didn't matter to me whether the blood was full of fear or not, although it sometimes made it sweeter. Last night, he had been terrified—his blood had been thick with adrenaline and panic. Maybe I would taste a difference if he let me bite him willingly. I tried to remember what he tasted like as the man before me now went limp, losing consciousness as I continued to drain him. I couldn't really remember, especially not with the all too familiar liquid running past my lips. All I could bring to mind was that it was like nothing I had ever tasted, that it was the sweetest, richest blood I had ever taken. I couldn't wait to savor it again.

It wasn't long until the blood ran out and my victim was dead. I pulled away and let him slump to the ground. His skin was ashen, completely lifeless. I licked my lips, then wiped my mouth on my sleeve for good measure. I just stared down at the corpse for a moment, knowing somebody would find him soon. They would call the police. There would be an investigation, but they wouldn't find anything. The two little holes in his throat would stump them—this must be a trick, they would say, vampires don't exist! They would tell his family—the funeral would carry on and he would be forgotten. That's how it always went. As long as you didn't get caught while feeding, there was nothing left for a vampire to do, other than leave and forget. It was only predator and prey, after all.

With a sigh, I began walking, deeper into the ally. On the tenth step, I found myself back in the bedroom of the young man's apartment. The light in the room was off, but I could hear the quiet chatter of a TV in the next room. I glanced at the clock by his bed—he had probably eaten dinner not long ago; he was probably relaxing on the couch, too weak from last night to do much else. One of the few vivid memories from my past was what if felt like to lose a substantial amount of blood. You were weak, weary, listless for days; the dizziness lasted for hours. Briefly, I contemplated waiting here until he went to bed, or stepping out there and confronting him now. I decided on the latter.

The doorknob was cool under my fingers. I decided to play with him a little bit. I stepped to the side, so that I was hidden behind the door. Slowly, I eased it open, peering in between the space left by the hinges. I could see the back of his sofa from here; he was lying on it long ways, his head at the end closest to me. Whatever he was watching seemed somewhat interesting, so he probably wasn't asleep. I couldn't help but smirk as I pulled open the door all the way, then slammed shut as hard as I could. He was surely startled. Simply for good measure, and so I could spy on him, I eased it open again. He was sitting up now, looking around in shock. He noticed the open door, his violet eyes wide with fear. Slowly, he rose to his feet, quickly but quietly disappearing into the kitchen. He returned with a large knife. He surely thought there was an intruder in his home. He was right... But he couldn't have known that a kitchen knife would do no lasting damage to a vampire like me.

Just as he was about five steps from the door, I slammed it again. I brought myself to stand behind him, looming over him a few inches. He could feel me behind him. Slowly, he turned, backing away as he did so. He held up the knife, fear glittering in his violet eyes. "You here to kill me this time?" he demanded, trying to sound unafraid, despite the expression in his gaze.

"No," I said simply, too lost in the sound of his voice to say anything else. His tone was just as amazing as the blood coursing through his veins... I wanted it more and more with every passing moment.

"Then get the hell out of here! I'm not gonna let you drain me half dead like last night!" the fear in his eyes morphed into anger and he launched himself at me, plunging the knife into my stomach. I staggered back a step, continuing the force and pulling him into me. The knife went in deeper, all the way up to the handle, but I didn't care. I could hardly feel it—there was no silver to do any real damage; the knife was nothing more than harmless, stainless steel. He cried out as I let my mouth go to his throat. I didn't bite down, but I let my fangs brush against the new scar that had been left from last night's encounter. He was trembling—I couldn't discern if it was from fear, anger, or both. He pulled away from me, struggling against my iron grip on his arms. I let him go, and he fell back, landing on his ass on the floor. He put a hand to his neck, over where I had bitten him last night, staring up at me in fear and hate. With a smirk, just to intensify his bewilderment, I pulled the knife from my stomach. Keeping my eyes locked with his, I ran my tongue over the cold metal, tasting my on, vampiric blood on it. The wound in my gut was already halfway healed by now. In a moment, there would be nothing left of its existence, save for a small hole in my shirt.

I crouched down, sliding the knife across the floor, back towards him. "Go on, try again," I smirked, mocking him. He grabbed at it, then scooted back until he was up against the sofa. I took a few steps towards him, reaching out to help him up. "I'm not going to kill you," I said, my tone convincing yet unthreatening. "I would've by now if that was the case."

He looked up, into my eyes. Fear was obvious in his violet gaze. "You snuck into my home, attacked me, and now you want me to trust you? No wa—" he started, but I cut him off.

"Yes."

He stared at me, dumbfounded. So I continued, "Your blood was the sweetest I've ever tasted. I'm not going to kill you, and then only have tasted it once."

He looked almost disgusted, but also understanding, "So you wanna keep me, like a pet, and feed off me whenever you want? What if I run away?"

"You won't. You'll have a life of luxury with me. Everything on the grounds of my mansion will be at your disposal. I will become more than just your owner," I said, the words sounding almost cruel. It wouldn't really be this way, though. He'd fall for me. I'd cherish him.

"Will you make me into one of your kind?" he asked, his fear still imminent. I don't think he liked the idea of becoming a vampire like me. Good. That would make him all that much stronger at first, when I did change him.

"No, not yet. Not until I have to."

"Okay..." He let his gaze fall, I could tell that he was trying to force himself to give in to me. "Will I like... being with you? Will it be worthwhile? Will you swear never to drink so much of my blood that I pass out?" His tone was still extremely wary, and he looked up at me when he spoke his last question. I could tell that that was one of his major fears about being with me.

"Yes... And that was a mistake on my part. I took more blood from you than I should have, last night. I will be more careful next time," I replied, my tone truthful. I was still holding my hand out to him.

"Next time..." he repeated, quietly, sounding reluctant.

"I won't take much more for now. You're still too weak. I just... I want to taste you again," I hated how pleading my last few words had sounded, but it was necessary. He gazed into my cobalt stare, still afraid, still reluctant. "It's okay, I won't hurt you," I promised. He nodded, ever so slightly, fear of death, of upsetting me, driving him to act against his instincts to fight me.

He took my hand.

I pulled him to his feet.

He staggered, falling into me.

I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close. He was still trembling horribly with fear, but that would soon subside. For now, he would grow dependent of me. His fear would develop into a sense of gratitude—he would be thankful that I had spared his life. I would treat him kindly, lovingly, and he would fall for me. He would be mine. "May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?" I asked, whispered, ever so kindly.

"I'm Duo..." he replied, his voice somewhat shaky. He was crying now.

I gently rubbed his back, trying to calm him. "My name is Heero." I pulled away, looking into his downcast eyes. He was afraid, but he had forced himself to become submissive in order to ensure that nothing truly bad happened to him. I didn't necessarily like that, but it had to happen in order for him to willingly go with me. "Go pack your things. We'll leave as soon as you're ready."

"Oh... Okay." He said, quietly, stepping away and walking to the bedroom. It was obvious that he had wanted to say no, to get me out of his life and rid himself of this nagging fear. I followed him into the bedroom. He took his time, gathering his clothes and a few belongings; he regretted leaving here to go with me. It was an obvious fact, but I wasn't giving him a choice. Finally, he was zipping up his large duffel bag. His hands were trembling. I put my hand over his, stilling its tremors. He looked up at me, teary-eyed.

I just kept a firm expression and nodded, as if to say 'this is the right thing to do'.

He didn't say a word, just stared up at me with those big, violet eyes; 'I don't want to do this,' they told me. For a split second I doubted my decision in making go with me. But it was too late now. I wanted his blood, I wanted him.

"Are you ready to go?" I asked, lacing my fingers together with his. He was too scared to pull away.

He nodded, managing a shaky, "Yes."

"Don't worry. It's not going to be as bad as you think. Life will be a lot easier with me," I promised him, something inside me itching to ease his fears.

"Okay..." he murmured. One of his hands clutched the strap of his duffel bag, the other held in mine.

I gave his hand a small squeeze, before letting out a brief sigh. I brought us both to the front room of my mansion.

you like? hehe. next chapter tomorrow!

i'm kinda makin duo really submissive in this fic, but only for part of it. and its obvious as to why. and i tried not to make heero TOO mean. i'm really having fun with it though, so i hope you guys like it :D

so, until tomorrow! bye guys!