Crave Me, Taste Me [FighterTutor 18+]

-03- 💋 No Good For You

"Don't you know I'm no good for you? I've learned to lose you, can't afford to."
~Billie Eilish, 'when the party's over'

~~~

*Fighter's POV*

What is wrong with me?

Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with me?

Thirteen years, and I still can't follow the one rule I was given.

Stay away from Tutor.

Everything in me knows I should stay away from Tutor, and it's not just because of the king. Tutor is... too good. Too pure. Too angelic. Being around me would only soil that. My kind is dangerous; killers who lurk in the night searching for unsuspecting prey.

Vampires do not belong with angels.

I know that. So why can't I stop myself from getting into those situations?

| Earlier that day |

I walked down the empty halls, trailing my fingertips along the wall. I had just finished with my morning work, which mainly consisted of all the heavy lifting that no one else can do. Being a vampire has its perks, and one is the strength.

I heard him before I saw him. The clicks of his shoes against the marble floor. Every corner of my brain warned me to turn around, to not even approach him.

But I couldn't do it. Tutor has always had a way of pulling me in, in a way I'm sure he's not even aware of.

I rounded the corner, stopping in my tracks when I saw my angel. He was observing a large piece of art, completely unaware that he was sculpted by the gods himself, more beautiful than any dusty old painting.

Light shone through the window, making his porcelain skin glow. His pouty lips were pursed as he observed the painting, although I knew the truth.

He wasn't really studying the artwork. It was a facade he kept up as his mind wandered elsewhere.

Tutor looked annoyed, although I couldn't figure out why. He seemed like he was thinking about something extremely frustrating, and it drove me crazy that I couldn't see inside his mind.

I needed to know what goes through that head of his.

Don't do it, Fighter.
Walk away.
Don't—

"Having fun, little prince?" I asked, my tone lined with teasing.

Tutor turned around, his jaw clenching as he kept his eyes on me. I knew the nickname drove him crazy, which is why I loved to call him it. Getting a rise out of him was the closest I got to seeing the real Tutor nowadays, not the uptight facade he wore around the castle.

"Don't call me that," he said coldly, refusing the let his mask slip.

"What should I call you then?" I asked, stepping towards him.

"You should call me by my title. Prince Tutor. It's what's expected of every servant," he spat, glaring at me.

I smiled wider, taking another step closer to him. "I specifically remember you telling me not to call you that, isn't that right?"

"We were children," he deadpanned. "Things are different now."

He wasn't budging. Tutor started acting like this from the moment I pushed him away when we first met. Refusing to ever let me see past his perfect exterior, into the real him.