Larry stylinson smut (a/b/o, vampire)

Certainty

Ao3: is_it_HI_or_Oops

Summary:

Harry is a vampire whose life has been one long killing spree only because he didn't have much else to do. Louis is a human who works at a tavern in a small village during The Medieval Period. Harry thinks he would be a suitable snack.

Work Text:

It's been far too long, his life. That's a certainty if anything ever was. It's been cold, just like this very moment as he drags a human carcass behind him far past the outskirts of the Saxon camp from where he took the man. Of course this wasn't the only man he killed that night, no, he had drained the life out of many men already and this man he was taking with him was just to be a snack for later. He doesn't have to feed as much as he does but when you're destined to be a monster anyway you might as well embrace it.

Harry thoroughly embraces the beast inside and regularly devours whole villages. Drinking and drinking until there isn't a crimson drop left. It helps quench the pain. His pain pouring from him into his victims, circulating through them and back into him, a refreshed sting.

Not that he really feels the physical cold, the only chills running through his body are from the rush of the kill; however, even this, after a thousand years, has become a chore. His life is tedious in the most oblique way, yet sleep evades him with an ardent spirit.

Harry often reminisces about his younger vampiric years though the memories grow blurrier with every passing year. Back then, sure he wasn't as powerful as his longevity has made him, but he didn't hate himself so much. He didn't search so desperately for a way out that will never be granted.

The dead weight despite being as light as a feather to one as strong as Harry is very difficult to grip for the Saxon was a big man and his head gets caught on things as he is dragged through the untrodden snow. The inconvenience is almost enough for Harry to simply drop the man and carry on. It's not like catching another human would be difficult, but they are very spread out in these parts.

Harry stops and flips the man over his shoulder onto the icy ground. He looks at the man's pale face and vacant eyes. It's a shame to waste such readily available blood. He decides he can still stomach it and leans down over the man and sinks his teeth in his throat. The blood is no longer the deliciously hot temperature it would be if it were still fresh, alive, but it's not too bad. No, not so bad that he stops. After the carcass is drained Harry can continue on free of baggage.

Two nights later he stumbles upon a little town. It's not so frigid here and the snow is more thinned, yet all the people seem burrowed up in one place or another. Harry's not overly fond of playing with his food but he thinks it could still be interesting to see what humans are up to nowadays, so he enters the little shack of a tavern.

It's cheery inside and busting with as much life as can be expected from such a place. At the bar is a group of merry locals croaking out unrecognizable tunes. At a table near the middle is a group of what are clearly travelers, yapping on in a language Harry only knows because he's lived for so long and in many different places. To his left as he enters is a group of suspicious looking men exchanging satchels of coin. Harry slumps off to the darkest back corner to seclude himself.
He hears soft footsteps approaching from afar over all the commotion of the locals especially. Soon a young, plain looking boy with messy brown hair comes up to him carrying far too many wooden plates and metal pints, all empty, to fit in his small hands. Harry looks up from behind his long matted hair with the odd little braid stuck in there to peer at the boy with his dead eyes. He can see and hear the little lad gulp as he takes in Harry's looming and sinister appearance before getting on with what he's here for.