Male character x Male reader

Vampire Story - Spencer Reid

¡Smut!Vampire Spencer! Sexy biting, with a side of science.
You write a story discovering a secret from your teacher.

Technology had advanced too quickly in such a small span of time that Spencer no longer cared to keep up. Sometimes his lifespan felt like the longest punishment but the past twenty years of using ever-evolving laptops felt like he only had a month to keep up with each new model before the next came in. Learning to use a new Windows update was all exhausting. Still, university policy and Covid meant online lessons, presentations, and submissions for the majority of his year.
The worst part of his morning routine was checking his inbox and today he had a few emails to answer. He could have replied when most came in during the night but what example would he be setting his students? Replying to emails at four in the morning whilst slurping down coffee? Not an option.
Besides they were all last-minute attempts to ask for a deadline extension on the essay due in one hour. Except one.
Y/N had written a very formal and very apologetic correspondence, begging for a resubmission. Such requests were far more infrequent than those who left their essays to the eleventh hour, but Spencer had a set reply nevertheless. His fingers sped over the keys with the standard issue response: the mistake probably wasn't as bad, the cut-off point (40%) that would limit the resubmission's marks, that this appeal would take some time to go through.
He did not expect Y/N to return his email by the time he'd made his morning coffee. According to him, he had entered the entirely wrong document that was saved under a similar name to his actual essay. Panic rose out of the font, stating that 40% was still better than a 0 and that it was a very private document.
Spencer may have been dead but he still had some humanity in him.
His reply comforted Y/N with the knowledge that he could send his actual essay in without the usual repercussions of a second attempt. And in return, he received a very grateful email from the student and their actual work in the next five minutes. Spencer felt a flutter in his chest as if his unbeating heart had been resuscitated by Y/N's gratitude. It shot down to his stomach as he recalled what this might mean. It wasn't the first time his student had made him feel this way.
Closing his laptop lid, he turned back to his coffee. Any feelings of the sort had to be shut down fast.
He didn't think about it again until past the deadline when he could ensure that all his pupils had at least sent in some form of an essay. His printer began spewing entries out noisily and in the meantime Spencer made another cup of coffee.
Of course, he was curious when he came across Y/N's two documents. His real document had been labelled with a bonus "ACTUAL ESSAY" at the end of the title. "Nectar of the Night" was a niche topic, so his mind was having a stroll down a lane of ideas that may hint at the document's contents. The cursor hovered over the "print submission" button, itching to reveal all.
The paper the printer spewed out was hot with fresh ink, telling the tale of a pair of lovers. It intrigued and was evidently inspired by his last lecture's focus. Spencer felt himself smiling as he took in the familiar imagery.
He tapped the "print all" button on his laptop for the actual essays before returning to the story. He was soon lost in the rush between the two lovers, Kieran and Sawyer reuniting under moonlight with Kieran's doubts coming to light.
"What are you?"
Spencer's mouth opens for a fraction before he slams it shut.
"Is it not enough for us to pretend that I'm human?"
Spencer's 10,000 words per minute scanning paused. He read and reread those lines over and over. A mistake, clearly, this was Y/N putting his name in there when really he meant this completely fictional character Sawyer. He probably wrote this between finishing the essay. Yeah. That was the reason.
His anxieties spiked again just paragraphs later:
Spencer pulls away and I am left to try and soak up any of the light he left behind. "I'm thirsty." Spencer bites down on his lip and I know the moment that Spencer sees his words click in my mind. "I'm thirsty, Y/N, and you smell — fuck — there's no word for it. Not in any language, not a single word can describe how much you make me want to ravage you. It's an obsession, almost."
This couldn't be happening. Despite his trembling hands disturbing the paper and his already diminishing reading speed, Spencer forced himself to keep going.
My heart pounds against my rib cage, pressing against Spencer's lower lips are a pair of pristine fangs. He must also hear how I react, if the way his lips turn up at the corners is to say anything.
Subconsciously I lift up my chin, locking eyes with Spencer. "If you're that thirsty, you could always drink me."
Spencer's eyes lock in on the expanse of my neck. I wonder how it would feel, for his teeth to sink into the flesh. If he was dark due to his thirst, would I get my Spencer back once he was quenched?
Sharp beeping emitted from the printer. Its tiny screen flashed the words "PAPER JAM". In his sudden shock, Spencer almost slapped the machine, but caught himself just before striking it. Today was not the day to be picking fragments of plastic and circuit boards off the floor.
He'd flown too close to the sun, even if he couldn't physically stand in the light's reach, and now he was burnt. All those signs he'd been leaving behind. Always having his lessons be the last of the day or in a lecture theatre with north facing windows, late office hours, and half of his curriculum this semester was on supernatural creatures in literature, talking about werewolves and vampires were parallels for gay panic propaganda in fantasy stories. He might as well have displayed "VAMPIRE RIGHT HERE" on his forehead.
His rage was channelled into setting aside the rest of the papers, and he sighed with his head in his hands. This wasn't something to be addressed via email or any form of electronic correspondence. Unfortunately, that left only one option: confronting Y/N face to face.
Spencer still would have preferred not acknowledging the subject at all. Oblivious and clearly not sharing this sentiment, Y/N arrived early to the lecture on Tuesday evening.
"I wanted to say thank you in person, and as a bonus thanks," He offered his teacher the paper cup.
"That is entirely unnecessary." Then Spencer got a whiff of the burnt beans mixed with Y/N's freshly shampooed hair, "But I accept."
He sipped on the drink throughout his lecture and honestly he felt he was covering his tracks quite well. Except he tripped over the recognition of the deadline passing in the form of a bullet point at the end of his notes mentioned that feedback would be in their inbox by the end of the day. As he announced it, he found Y/N watching him with utter innocence.
"Y/N! Could you come here a moment please?"
He could see Y/N's body language shift subtly, from a near escape to being trapped in the spider's web. They waited by the desk for the other pupils to file out of the hall. Despite how awkward this was, it still wasn't long enough to delay the inevitable for Spencer.
The second the double doors to the theatre were closed, he bit the bullet before he could back out, "I have read your first submission, the one you sent me accidentally."
Y/N's posture became stiff and he wobbled on the spot, his eyes glassing over. Adjusting his bag's strap, he continued his fidgeting that was growing more obvious by the second.
"You have a very creative mind," was Spencer's very poor attempt at trying to ease the humiliation – and make a softer opening for his interrogation.
"I," Y/N clasped his hands together in front of his mouth, "Thank you?"
"I can only imagine that this was a bi-product of my lecture on queer theory in fantasy creatures."
"Yes, it was very inspiring."
Spencer pressed a little further, "So, what made you choose the vampire for your lead's love interest?"
Fidgeting with his fingers, Y/N managed to find his answer, "I enjoyed your analysis of them hiding in the shadows then claiming the night for themselves to exist. The transformation between humanoid and bat paired with queer theory, it just felt comparable to modern-day drag and dramatics."
It was Diana Reid's first lesson in literature: almost everything has a second meaning. It was a bonus Spencer had as a lecturer; he would learn from what his students interpreted along with his own inferences.
This was delightful in literature. It was insufferable in real life.
Paranoia surged through him like blood once did, because all of Y/N's words were backed in evidence that was his second submission. But his first entry was the source of so much doubt that Spencer could barely hide his desperation any longer.
With forced deliberation, Spencer asked, "But why did you choose for Sawyer to be the vampire?"
Y/N struggled for an answer clearly. His heart rate was going up again, only by a couple beats per minute but it was noticeable enough that Spencer fought to keep his face neutral. Put him in a room with some insufferable insignificant unsub and he would be fine. Y/N set him off though.
"I'd like a tall dark handsome stranger to sweep me off my feet." And Y/N let out a short huff of laughter. He was clearly still so nervous.
"I suppose that is an enticing character type," Spencer said.
"And so is the innocent," Y/N added.
Just like that, Spencer couldn't stop himself from using that addition as a conversational springboard, "In your... story, you reversed the trope of light equals good and dark equals bad. Thus your 'innocent' subverts itself and is the negative."
Y/N was nodding, but Spencer wasn't quite sure if Y/N was following the hints. Fuck, he hated all these hidden meanings, and none more so than the following.
"Do you see Kieran, yourself, as bad, Y/N?"
That wasn't what Spencer wanted to ask. He wanted to ask: Do you think I could be good? If Y/N really knew, was he scared and ignorant enough to spread that fear?
Again, Y/N mulled over his choices before deciding to speak, "Writing about this kind of topic does feel..."
His pause hung in the air as Spencer waited for him to find the right word. His itching to answer his own question however pushed potential fillers forward to the point where he couldn't keep them inside.
"Taboo?"
"Yeah." Y/N's throat sounded dry.
"Scandalous?"
"Hmm."
"Naughty?"
Y/N's heart sped up to Spencer's crooked delight.
"That is the basis of the lover's entire relationship. Of course, it feels wrong."
"Do you think it's wrong?"
"They're both consenting adults, they both clearly desire each other, it's no one else's business. It shouldn't be taboo."
The relief that Spencer felt could not be understated.
The focus of the story was not the literal fact that one of the lovers was a vampire. It was the societal values placed upon the two men. His identity – for now – remained hidden in the shadows as intended. This story was just an allegory for his position as a teacher and Y/N's as his student. Bit obscure, and Spencer still strongly disliked allegories.
However, his relief gave way to a new anxiety bubbling in his stomach. Y/N "accidentally" submitting this story was clearly meant as a confession. He reciprocated Spencer's feelings. Spencer would have to come clean if they were to court. At some point, or maybe he could spare Y/N with a break up or denying he had any attraction towards him at all.
But why should he? Y/N was right. They were close in age – at least, close to the age that he turned. They were coming close to intellectual peers and he was so handsome it was unbearable to be so close yet so far from him. Why did love always have to hurt? Why did it have to be so taboo? Spencer yearned for the love his mother's favourite poets would describe. How light it made them feel and all the new meanings it brought to their existence.
Goodness in morals and goodness in life could not go hand in hand for Spencer.
"At least that's what I think," Y/N broke the silence. His left foot was restless on the floor.
"I'm inclined to agree," Spencer said quietly, and his eye broke from his restraint to glance at Y/N's soft lips. He hasn't answered the question about good and evil. How could he see himself as evil? How could I be good? He thought as he proved Y/N's tale wrong with a kiss.
Shameless hands moved to clasp at the other the second their mouths connected. Spencer's hair was tugged on with weaving fingers to draw out a moan. In retaliation, Y/N found that his neck was ripe for a firm hand to squeeze. He dreamily sighed into the space between them as Spencer broke free with his mind too clouded by adoration to think about the consequences.
Hands spread across Spencer's collarbones until they found the buttons on his shirt beneath his scarlet tie. Y/N worked on loosening it and only pulled away as Spencer wrenched it over his head and threw it down to the desk. A flash of Y/N with his wrists held together by the same tie went over his eyes as Spencer shed his cardigan. Y/N's bag had been discarded long ago, but Spencer couldn't entirely pinpoint when. God, that shampoo was faint but dragged him back. It only grew stronger as he watched Y/N slide his belt out the buckle, then push his trousers and boxers down past his knees in one motion.
Of course, the transformation element in Y/N's story. Though Spencer thought that perhaps Y/N would have made himself the vampire if that was the case. That metaphor was swiftly forgotten in favour of admiring the way Y/N stood before him, not shy about showing his professor his cunt, just waiting to hear feedback again. Its scent with all that blood and arousal flooding it acted as just pure bait. Instead of speaking, just for now, Spencer stroked delicately through Y/N's lips before circling the clit. The student's knees looked as if they were about to buckle, so he drew closer and pushed his fingers back through and into his cunt, the heel of his palm pushed flush against the clit as he held Y/N against the desk in his palm.
"Let me in, sweetheart."
Y/N had raised on his tiptoes but now he sat on the desk with whimpers in his chest and one leg lifted up to make way for Spencer. As the professor continued to scissor his fingers into him, wrapped up warmly by his cunt, Y/N pawed at Spencer's crotch pathetically.
"I want to see you," he said with a heavy exhale.
Truth be told, Spencer was finding the restraints of his boxers a little too confining for his liking. He leisurely licked his fingers clean before lifting Y/N and adjusting how he was sat on the desk. Y/N's hand reached for balance and nearly knocked on the desk's microphone. While Spencer would have killed to hear Y/N's moans projected across the lecture hall, it would have to be saved for his imagination. Perhaps a prompt for another of Y/N's stories.
Spencer dragged the head of his cock along Y/N's cunt, knocking it against his clit a few times for good measure. Pheromones hauled Spencer in until there was nowhere else to go. His head lolled and he instinctively drew in a deep sniff along Y/N's neck, sweat decorating his delicate skin. That student was such a tantalizing innocent, but he had lured Spencer into this moment without awareness of the danger and the deeds that would ensue. An open-mouthed kiss allowed Spencer to get a hint of a taste. But it wasn't enough. He licked at his exposed collarbone, nose nudging away his shirt's collar. It would fit so neatly between his teeth.
"Please," and Y/N grabbed at Spencer's hair again, holding him right in front of his prey, "You can do it. I want you to."
Temptation in its undiluted form was deadly. If he could breathe, Spencer would be suffocating under the weight of this choice. His fangs were already drawing out and poised, ready to pierce the fragile skin.
Spencer screwed up his face and, with a hard thrust into Y/N, he bit down onto his shirt's shoulder. Cotton fabric friction melded around his teeth and he prayed he wouldn't tear it, giving Y/N another reason to cry. The student's legs wrapped tightly around his waist; it was like he wanted them to stay this close. It was less like fucking and more like grinding as they moved together on the desk. The poor boy clamped down on him with unbearable ecstasy. And fucking hell did he smell good as he came, wailing like a banshee.
Spencer felt his own completion drawing close and lifted his head up, "Let me get a tissue-"
"Please, come inside me," Y/N grasped at Spencer's collar to look him directly in the soul, "I'm safe. Please."
Taken aback by the begging, Spencer wet his lips. Y/N was staring at him with begging eyes and his chest heaving for more. His body was less firm against Spencer's, weaker after his orgasm. Spencer allowed his forehead to rest on Y/N's.
"Yes," He crooned against Y/N's mouth, pecking it once short and sweet, "You're safe. We both are."
And he began fucking into him properly. Y/N sounded like he was sobbing but he never asked to stop. Spencer forced himself away from Y/N's neck and pressed their faces inelegantly together.
He whispered into his student's gasping mouth, "I've got you, sweetheart, it's ok. You can take it. Let me come inside you."
There was no better clarity than when Y/N opened his eyes, dumb with pleasure, as Spencer met with his orgasm. The clinking of his belt slowed from their crescendo. With one last draft of his delicious neck, he withdrew from Y/N and began redressing himself with deft deliberateness. He wasn't exactly sure where to go from here. A sly glance in Y/N's direction revealed that he too was getting himself presentable again. He went to pull up his trousers, but already Spencer's cum was trickling between his thighs. He covered it up hurriedly and his head ducked to avoid Spencer's gleeful grin.
He mumbled into his chest, "I shoulda sent you my stories earlier if I knew it would make it real."
Spencer stopped adjusting his tie, "Stories? There's more?"
"Oh God," Y/N hid his face further, this time into his hands.
Undeterred, Spencer asked, "How much have you written? I'd be interested in reading more."
"... There's about ten."
"Ten?"
"Well, you've been teaching me for half a year. Plenty of time to imagine things."
Just like his ancient laptop, Spencer buffered. His response however came flying out like a bullet from a gun, "So I was the lover in the story then?"
"I thought..." Y/N's expression drained into mild horror, "I thought you knew."
Fucking hell, of course it wasn't an allegory.
"You left our names in the edit. Of course I knew. But how did you know?" Spencer asked, his voice hushed and tentative.
"Know what?"
"That I'm a vampire? What gave me away?"
Suddenly Y/N let out a nervous chuckle, "Yeah, right, and I'm a werewolf. Thanks for the attempt at curing my embarrassment."
As he laughed again, Spencer couldn't even begin to fathom a comeback.
What the hell was happening? But as he looked at his spent student, he saw the cogs turning in his expression.
Oh dear.
"Oh fuck."
Oh no.
"You're a vampire!?" Y/N exclaimed hoarsely.
"You wrote erotica about us!" Not a priority but Spencer had nothing else to say.
"You're a vampire! And," Y/N paused to swallow and look up at the lecture hall's ceiling, "Your flies are still down."
Rushing to zip up and assure his student, Spencer's words crashed like a pile-up in front of him, "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Don't tell anyone. I'll do anything, anything, if you keep this quiet. Please, don't."
Y/N tilted on his feet, his lower lip caught between his teeth. While he was blinking excessively, Spencer didn't blink once. His fucking stomach aches were back, and he was so tired from this emotional whiplash from all these metaphors. Perhaps life would have been easier had he stuck to profiling. Fat lot of good those skills were doing him as he rushed to figure out whether Y/N would expose him before he spoke.
Finally, Y/N released his bottom lip and spoke, "I won't tell your secret. If you don't tell mine."
"Yes, anything!" Spencer was one step away from getting on his knees, "I won't tell anyone. But what is it?"
"That I fucked my professor on his desk."
Spencer felt like his brain was trying to connect via dial-up. Banter? At a time like this? What did he do with this panic now? God this whole encounter, sex included, was exhausting.
"I'll keep it secret," He said quietly, before sitting against the desk. "You can go now."
But Y/N stopped fidgeting on the spot and moved opposite Spencer tentatively, "Are you ok?"
Spencer didn't meet his eye as he shrugged.
"What do you need?" Y/N asked.
Trying not to think about how this was a direct parallel to the story that started this mess, Spencer answered honestly. "I think I'll need a recharge before I check out your next story."
"I can always bring you another coffee."
In spite of it all, Y/N's offer was like balm to his undead soul, and Spencer felt it glow as Y/N took a deep breath with his extended offer, "Or how about we meet for one during reading week?"
Y/N felt safe. He was safe. And so was Spencer.