[FDTD] Sink Your Teeth into My Neck


Disclaimer: Characters belong to their respectful owners

Fandom: From Dusk Till Dawn TV Series

Rating: Teens and up

Pairings: Seth Gecko x Richie Gecko (yeah, it’s incest), Seth Gecko x Kate Fuller x Richie Gecko (yeah, it’s threesome)

Genre: fanfiction

Characters:  Seth Gecko, Kate Fuller, Richard ‘Richie’ Gecko, Kisa/Santanico Pandemonium

Warnings: 3some, incest, language


“You fucking turned me into a monster!” Seth roared, finally snapping. “Now you’re egging me to act like one!”

“Monster, that’s how you’ve always seen us, despite all what you’ve been through,” Richie gritted through clenched teeth. “That’s how you’ve always seen me. Welcome to the club, big bro. We’re all equal.”

Amongst Richie’s many antics that came as bonuses of his culebra status, there was one in particular that Seth had mixed feelings about. Others, well, let’s say Seth’s attitude towards them ranged from annoyed (his keenness to pick up random, if not sometimes weird, talents from his kills) and disturbed (his habit to glare with slit-pupil eyes, bare his fangs and growl – positively animalistic – when they got into a heated fight) to downright disgusted (the bloody – no pun intended; he wasn’t British – mess he created with a meal, although recently he had taken Kate’s advice of ‘drink ‘em, turn ‘em, stake ‘em’ to clean up after himself but Seth figured it was Richie’s sanguinary lust rather than the mess that upset him – scared him actually). So, negative in general.

Feeding (Jesus how that word left a bad taste in Seth’s mouth), however, wasn’t the only culebra tic that involved blood; there was another and that was the one thing getting Seth’s feelings bewildered. For a lack of better, more scientific term if there was ever science about this whole serpent business, he would call it ‘being in heat’, courtesy of Kate when she accidentally walked in on them in the middle of it. Her reaction? She just grabbed the nearest sit-able object, sat down and observed them, wearing a look of amused curiosity on her pretty face, till they finished and descended from cloud nine and offered her own understanding from her high school biology’s knowledge. It was four-part awkward – embarrassing even for thugs like Seth and Richie – and six-part aroused to be the sole focus of her smoldering gaze, and if Seth hadn’t already flushed from what Richie’d done to him, he might have blushed like a fucking teenage punk. “Many girls like watching guys in sweaty action,” Kate had nonchalantly explained it to them later, “bonus points if the guys are hot. It’s not very different from guys watching porno.” Preacher’s daughter, right. They both came to a realization that they had vastly underestimated their little princess. Kate Fuller never ceased to amaze them, for better or worse, and they were heads over heels for her because of that.

Back to the ‘being in heat’ business. He didn’t know if snakes, both with and without legs, were ever ‘in heat’ and he didn’t really care; nevertheless, when he contemplated it at some point during his idle time, Seth had to agree that Kate’s term was really the best description. He had thought it came sporadically at first, but as it’d happened again and again, he had begun to believe there might be a pattern, which he was too occupied with many other affairs to try figuring it out; for Christ’s sake he had no habit to keep a calendar for his little brother’s ‘periods’. No luck asking Richie when it arrived either; the fucking dumbass probably had even less idea than Seth. He could safely guess it didn’t bother Richie as much as it should have, and fairly so because it didn’t hamper his ability to plan a job or execute one and when it came to pay a visit, it always conveniently happened where it could be thoroughly dealt with. The lucky bastard.

So, here was how it basically went: some time during a humid day (Seth theorized that it had something to do with the temperature, what with his brother being cold-blooded and all but he was no zoologist), Seth was doing whatever shit he was doing in their place, binge-watching a show, having a chilled beer, working out, heck, even taking a brief shower to cool himself, when Richie emerged from their room while he ought to be slumbering his ass out like a nocturnal creature would. Then he stalked to Seth, having that dazed look as if he was sleepwalking, suddenly grabbed Seth by his collar (if he was wearing a shirt), fanged out and sank his cute little fangs into his elder brother’s goddamned jugular. What he did he did with a viper-strike speed that left Seth very little to absolutely no chance to defend himself. One could argue that Seth should have learned a thing or two after having been jumped so many times but no, culebra-Richie in heat was a dozen-plus times faster than culebra-Richie and even if Seth fully knew it was coming from all the telltale signs, all his fucking reflex was never enough to get him out of Richie’s clutch. At first he had tried to run but a few steps was the best he could manage. Damn all the shades in the place once and his inability to just incapacitate Richie with a lead twice – couldn’t find it in his heart to hurt his little brother, even if big culebra boy could take so much more than a mere bullet. In grim retrospect, Seth was convinced that if every culebra normally behaved like Richie did, the Mexicans wouldn’t have survived long enough for the Spanish conquistadors to land on the shore and convert them.

The first time Richie had jumped him, Seth had been convinced that his brother had intended to kill him for good. Maybe he had been containing his urges for so long and it had backfired on him; maybe he had finally lost it, his bloodthirsty culebra side taking over; maybe he had reached what was called the ‘ripper’ state (got that term from a teenage vampire show that was a bit too violent for teenagers) and sought to rip anything on legs in sight. Seth had feared for Kate when she got home despite knowing their girl could handle much more than Seth ever gave her credit for, but if it was Richie, Kate’s guard would go way down, making her the perfect prey. Seth tried to jerk himself free, kicking and using many tricks from his dirty book but Richie’s grip was uncompromising. All his efforts had been in vain, just like the first time at Titty Twister.

That fucking first time.

Reality proved that Seth’s overthinking tendency once again got ahead of the situation – in most situations it was an advantage, allowing him to judge and react promptly. Richie’s fangs did find his artery but didn’t sink in as deeply as necessary to mangle the flesh like Seth had watched him in the act before. He took his damn sweet time to mouth at Seth’s neck, his lips dry and cool yet feeling like ember pressing on Seth’s skin. His snake tongue darted out between his lips to gather the droplets seeping from the twin wounds while his arms caged Seth and his hands roamed over his brother’s body, cupping a little here, squeezing a little there, altering between tenderness and sadism and making Seth shiver against his taller frame, his hairs standing on end. It was so wrong on so many levels, to have your own brother touching you in all the wrong places, and yet to Seth it felt so damn right he could weep (it was figurative speaking). He thought he was supposed to feel profound shame but he didn’t; rather, he enjoyed Richie’s ministrations, questions of moral and such be damned. Again, what aspect of their life that wasn’t wrong for others but right for them: from growing up without a mother figure, becoming orphans at young age and professional criminals when they got older to sharing the love and body of one girl and being more than cool about it? As far as Seth was concerned, this was just another bullet point in the long, seemingly unending list of Gecko quirks.

When Richie finally began to suck, he did it at such a torturously low pace that the earlier panic of his brother going off the rail receded from Seth’s mind, replaced by puzzlement and, well, if he had to admit it, arousal, a huge rush of blood traveling south. Brutality wasn’t the only essence of Richie’s feeding; there was also speed, sharp, ruthless speed that allowed his victims five to eight seconds to struggle at most; unlike how many sappy shows took artistic license in portraying vampirism, Richie didn’t prefer to drag out his meal, and if there was something to savor, it wasn’t the taste but the satisfaction that his culebra system had been efficiently nourished and he had absorbed some useful skill from the once-whole soul.

Richie drank languidly, taking small sips of life essence from Seth. Blood was the conduit of the soul, as he liked to remind his brother, and Seth hallucinated his soul was inevitably leaving his flesh suit, piece by piece, due to Richie’s pull. What did his soul taste like on Richie’s culebra taste bud? He had plenty of sins and he wondered if that had any particular effects on the flavor because Richie seemed determined not to let go of him until he was satiated. One of his arm held Seth in place, keeping him standing although Seth’s legs were liquefying, while the other dipped below his waistband. His tight jeans strained against Richie’s knuckles as he started to fondle Seth.

Nobody ever questioned Richard Gecko’s multitasking ability, certainly not Seth.

Before he had fully registered what the heck Richie’s problem was, Seth found himself flat on his brother’s cool naked body, trying damn hard to catch his breath with heavy pants after exertion in the state of blood loss. He had no more clothes than his brother, his skin was uncomfortably sticky and his neck throbbed with dull pain. He lifted his forefinger to scratch the wounds and was unsurprised to see reddish brown crusted under his fingernail.

“The fuck, Richard?” Seth growled, voice hoarse. He forced himself to unlatch from Richie’s body and grimaced with a sting immediately shooting up his spine from where he’d been ‘duly fucked’. Guess some irresponsible idiot of a brother had hastened the prep. “Didn’t we agree that you kept your fangs 31256 fucking miles away from my neck?”

Richie rubbed his eyelids and opened his eyes, the whites of which being bloodshot.  “I don’t know, man,” he replied, half-groaning and Seth could almost hear honesty in his voice. “I woke up with this incredible urge blazing in my guts to re-taste the first blood I’ve ever had. I couldn’t help myself.”

“That’s it? You were in the mood for a snack after your nap and you jumped me?”

“Your blood,” Richie corrected. “In case you forgot, the first blood I’ve had was yours.”

“You know what, Richie,” Seth said, curling his fingers, “I’m having this incredible urge blazing in my guts right now to knock your fangs off with my fist.”

Then he acted on it. Nobody ever doubted that Seth Gecko was not a man of his word.

(No fangs was knocked off but Richie suffered a temporarily broken nose, which healed right after the first crimson drop dotted the duvet. Kate still questioned it however.)

After a couple more broken noses and the extension of his flame tattoo, Seth decided to give Kisa a call because there was nothing abnormal about chinwagging with his brother’s ex in his free time. Fire-forged friends, he and the serpent queen were.

He was considerate enough to call at the time she wasn’t burying herself under the bed sheet to avoid the sun. Kisa, on the other hand, wasn’t considerate enough to not find his current situation with Richie amusing. Seth could hear her laughter bubbling on the other line, waiting to burst.

“That’s what happens when Richard didn’t listen to me,” Kisa said.

“Excuse me?”

“His first blood has to be his first kill, Seth,” she replied. “Culebra system’s funny like that. Usually it doesn’t pose a problem as baby culebras don’t have enough self-control to spare their first victim like Richard did. It takes a lot of practice.”

“His first blood happens to be mine,” Seth snarled. “Are you saying Richie should have done me?”

Kisa, being Kisa, possessed no tact bone in her snake skeleton. “Yes, he should. But he didn’t, and now he’s plagued with an occasional craving for your blood. I’m surprised you’re still alive after, what, how many times already? Are you still man?”

“Every goddamned bit,” he barked. “Tell me how to fix it.”

“Putting half a state between you and him. The distance should help.”

“Not an option.”

“Killing you.”

“Fuck that.”

“Killing him.”

“Fuck you.”

“Then it’s incurable.”

Did he hear a chuckle from her?

“Thanks a ton.”

Grunting, he hanged up.

As time went, Seth began to accept that he might not abhor Richie’s little ‘episodes’ as much as he thought he had and that where the confusion started. He still felt anger, and if he dared to admit, vulnerability, shimmering in his stomach when his brother ‘was in the mood for a snack’, but each time it took Richie a little less effort to have his older brother squirming in his tight embrace, fully aroused and ready for come what may. Seth was surprised himself to discover that he could get hard while his neck got bitten – had never been one to have blood kink or enjoy any blood-related kind of foreplay. Nevertheless, he supposed what really got him was the side of Richie that lurked under his calm and collected exterior yet rarely surfaced. He was never not treading carefully around Seth and Kate as if subliminally scared by the prospect of his culebra instincts triumphing his human mind and hurting his two dearest people in this world. It particularly showed when they engaged in copulation: Richie was always thoughtful, always gentle and always held back; no matter how Seth and Kate tried to coax him into adding a little roughness to their ritual for the sake of fun, he didn’t comply. But this Richie was different: he acted less on his rationality and more on his nature, meaning he had foregone his usual self-imposed restraint. That made him more open, more vulnerable and generally more like the little brother that was the core of Seth’s protective-big-brother syndrome. How Seth just loved it.

So, when Richie once again wrapped his arms around him and penetrated his jugular vein, Seth only muttered a small curse under his breath and resigned to his fate, hoping the boring part would pass quickly for the fun one to start. It was a sweltering afternoon in June and he was aching to release a bit of the heat by some sweaty actions – not the soundest logic to exert in hot temperature but still. It was a shame Kate had left earlier to attend Scott’s rock concert; he would much prefer her to be home – her presence and her gaze on them showing unveiled excitement made things all the more better.

That meant Seth wasn’t prepared for a stab of heat entering his bloodstream through the puncture wounds and the burning sensation went straight to his brain. It was pain, pure searing pain, the kind one couldn’t describe unless they had been injected with a syringe full of acid and somehow survived that to put it into words. Seth’s vision went white in milliseconds and his voice’s crying Richie’s name came out broken. He tried to break free but Richie’s arms were unyielding as they snaked around his torso like iron vines. Seth realized, perhaps for the first time, with grim despair how wide the gap between his own strength and Richie’s was. He might have won their fights before using tricks but in a fair test of brawl like this, he against Richie would not be different from a Xibalban jaguar warrior against a newborn culebra. His last thought before his brain shut down was “It’s really bad.”

It was also his first thought when his brain restarted and he found himself in the darkness of their shared bedroom. The lights were completely off and since their room was underground, there was no window and streetlight to give some indications of time, yet Seth knew it was precisely six hours till dawn thanks to the grandfather clock on the wall. That was when his entire being was alarmed: despite the ink-thick darkness engulfing the room, he could see the hands of the clock as if in full light. Not only the hands of the clock but just about every object in this room and all the characters on the movie posters. Sight was not the only aspect this weird sudden acuteness touched; his sense of smell and sense of hearing were also enhanced. As his nose singled out the many scents mingled in the air, the sweats dried and forming a sheen on his skin, the new turquoise paint Kate had picked for their room’s makeover (Richie’d complained about the smell for hours on end), the lavender-sweet perfume on Kate’s vanity, sounds flooded into his ears and strangely enough, he could distinguish them as he did the scents. Because his hearing had gotten so keen, the beating of his own heart, in sync with another’s, was thunderous.

Seth was certain he hadn’t been born a superhuman and a few hours ago, he had had none of these super-senses. It was as if his ordinary senses had been scooped out and replaced with extraordinary. For all he knew, it could only mean one thing.

Seth made out Richard’s features effortlessly: the lines of his jaw, the shape of his nose, his cheekbones, even the blue tint in his eyes, fixing on Seth’s face like there was nothing else in the world worth seeing. Normally Seth would be so turned on by such look and would want nothing else than to drag his brother into the carnal pleasure they both knew was sinful and wrong but neither cared. But today Seth got a humongous turn-off looking at Richie’s face: his expression was serene but focused, a stark contrast to the shadow clouding Seth’s, and the fact that his brother looked so calm, with no hints of remorse for what he had done, was a claw raking Seth’s insides, tearing him to shreds. Anger wasn’t enough to describe the torrent of Seth’s emotions at the moment, for anger was too simplified a word for what he was feeling. He wasn’t just furious; he was wounded by a bone-deep knowledge that his own blood had betrayed him, and god, was there even a greater agony than betrayal?

Holding that calm yet intense gaze, Richie extended his hand to Seth’s cheek. His skin no longer felt so cold as before; it felt normal and to Seth, everything that felt normal at the moment was freaky, just like what he’d turned into.

Been turned into.

“Now your fear due to our difference in strength is no more,” Richie said, his tone even. “Is that what’s been going inside your head the whole time? To be the only man in this snake pit and having to be on gua—”

Seth’s fist connected with his jaw, knocking his remaining words back and making him swallow them. The crunching noise beat against his eardrums. Painful, all this enhanced senses were; how a man could get used to them, he wondered. Still, it would not halt his hand from clamping around Richie’s neck. How fragile his brother’s bones felt under his fingertips. His fingers clawed, and he was raging with tangible, physical urge to rip Richie’s throat out. It would be a piece of cake with his newfound strength. The beast in him was hissing and spitting venom. The eyes in the vanity fair’s mirror staring back at him were glowing amber and in the center, two vertical black strips resembling a snake’s tongue stood out.

You’ve found your own venom, Kate’s words hauntingly echoed in the back of his head.

“Do it,” Richie wheezed, struggling to find his voice against the steely constriction applied on his throat. “I know you want to do it, rip my throat out. Do it now. Vent your anger. Don’t hold it in.”

The fingers tightened; a fraction of strength added and flesh would tear and bones would snap. Seth held it right there, just one short step between retaining his humanity and giving in to bestiality. Eventually he would give in – a bloodsucker could only withheld for so long before he had to feed. He didn’t know how long he was able to postpone the inevitability.

“You fucking turned me into a monster!” Seth roared, finally snapping. “Now you’re egging me to act like one!”

“Monster, that’s how you’ve always seen us, despite all what you’ve been through,” Richie gritted through clenched teeth. “That’s how you’ve always seen me. Welcome to the club, big bro. We’re all equal.”

“We had a fucking promise, Richard, one you trampled on and dumped into shithole: you keep your venom to yourself! Never to Kate. Never to me!”

Richie laughed; although it came out chocked and distorted, for Christ’s sake he just fucking laughed. It was a harrowing sound that sent chill down Seth’s spine, if his snake skin could still feel chill. He supposed the chill was mental rather physical.

“What about our promise to never keep a secret from one another, huh?” Richie deadpanned, human eyes staring into Seth as if intending to drill the question through Seth’s skull and into his brain.


“Blood is the conduit of the soul, remember, brother; when your blood is rushing to your cock, your mental defense sadly weakens. And if all that soul-sharing shit ain’t enough…” said Richie, taking the advantage of Seth’s grip going lax to sit up a little and open the drawer of the nightstand. He took out a crumpled piece of paper, somehow managed to straighten it out with one hand in awkward angle and handed to Seth. Seth’s eyes snapped back to his dark human ones as he scanned the contents. A lump formed in the back of his throat.

“Really, Seth?” He was using that bitingly sarcastic tone he often used to mock Seth, sometimes for fun and sometimes to drive him insane. “Cancer? The great Seth Gecko, professional thief, Xibalban slayer, dying of lung cancer?”

Seth was mute. Richie, not waiting for any reply, continued, “You know what stamps your ass as a particular jerk, besides planning to keep it to yourself till the last day and just leaving behind a note saying ‘Hey, I’m off for a romp with that bitch Amaru, you guys stay and behave’? You don’t think you can survive it at all. You already give up before it begins.”

Seth thought he needed a Jupiter-sized bottle of scotch to swallow his lump. He managed to do it without and raised his voice. “So you pried into my stuff and then my head and decided to take matter in your own hand. Damning me to the fate of a reptile, is that what your genius snake brain says is the right thing?”

“It is the right thing,” Richie retorted. “Don’t think for a second that I’d stand by and fucking watch my brother die of cancer. I did what every brother would do.”

“No, you did it because you’re a selfish bastard—”

“Who doesn’t want to lose his brother,” Richie cut him sharply. “Tell me if it’s so wrong for me to want you to live. Think about Kate. You honestly want her to suffer another loved one’s death?”

“You leave Kate out of this. She has—”

This time, it was Richie’s fist rather than his words that cut Seth off. Having received an unexpected blow, Seth fell flat on the mattress, losing his threatening stance.

“That’s for Kate, prick,” cursed Richie. “She’s one of us. She is us.”

The cut on Seth’s lips healed before any blood spilled and any pain registered, but he was in no mood to pay attention to such triviality. He sprung back and in a fraction of a second, he resumed his hold on Richie, his eyes supernaturally glowing.

He was mildly disappointed that his brother was mostly submissive except for his eyes, two twin amber flames that were identical to Seth’s. The roof of his mouth itched. Must be his fangs aching to be out.

“Don’t use her as an excuse, Richard,” Seth hissed. “You crossed a line and that’s that.”

“Right, I crossed my line, after you crossed yours. Guess that makes the two of us, huh? Well, you may hate it, or me, as much as you like, but there’s no undo button for what I did and—”

A phone buzz halted Richie’s speech. Kate’s name appeared on the screen of his phone on the nightstand. He gestured for Seth to pick it up.


Kate sounded excited on the other line. Though her voice was almost drowned in the sea of loud music and louder cheers, Seth had no trouble hearing her.

“Oh, Seth, I call to let you know that I’m gonna be home a bit late. After-concert party and all. So don’t worry about me, ‘kay?”

A moment of hesitation and she continued, a shift in her tone, “Please don’t kill Richie while I’m not home.”

Seth’s voice reflected his confusion. “What did you say? You knew what he did?”

He heard Kate take in a breath. “Yes. We’ll talk about it later, alright? For now, please don’t kill Richie.”

She repeated as though she sincerely believed, or feared, that he would tear Richie’s head from his neck. A portion of Seth’s wrath dissipated because of her pleading tone; as the same time, realization dawned on. He hang up.

“She knew, didn’t she?” Seth asked. He didn’t dare voice his suspicion that Richie and Kate might have planned it together.

“She found that piece of paper,” replied Richie. “Your blood confirmed it. Your mortality is inevitable because you’re fully human, unlike us, and it’s a subject we all try to skip around. But neither of us wants to lose you. At least not that soon.”

Seth’s rage had already reached its peak and now, he no longer felt it so scorching in his chest. Instead, exhaustion seeped in, exhaustion and something else.

The itch in his mouth only worsened. He tried to be ignore it and failed.

“You know, Kate refused to be turned even on the verge of death…”

“Her father also asked her to stake him because he didn’t want to become a bloodsucker.”

“I know. Her blood showed me when Malvado cut our palms. You know what else I got from her blood? A deep regret that perhaps she should have tried to convince Jacob to continue living. She doesn’t want to go on without you. Neither do I.”

His stomach was churning. In his ears, the rush of blood, both in his veins and Richie’s, became tidal waves. He only caught about half of his brother’s words.

Richie’s hand caressed the side of his face, fingers dry and cool. “What I was saying earlier is there’s no reversing what I did—”

“So I just have to roll with it, don’t I?”

“You won’t know if you’re cut out to be a culebra until you become one,” said Richie, slightly pressing his thumb at the corner of Seth’s lips. “From what you’ve done so far, I’d say you’re rolling with it just fine.”

Fine my ass, Seth mentally cursed as his self-control slipped and he bit Richie’s thumb, eliciting a shudder from his brother.

Richie tasted bitter, like bourbon-bitter and just as intoxicating.

For the very first time Seth had experienced the mystical engine of soul-sharing. Images flashed before his eyes like fast-forwarding a movie at top speed.

“Easy, brother.”

The thumb was removed from his mouth. Dazed, he stared at Richie’s face with yellow eyes, his mouth agape and his fangs glistening with saliva.

He didn’t expect Richie to crane his neck and bare his vein to him. “Come on, brother. Satisfy your hunger. You’ve fed me so many times, and I think it’s time for me to return the favor.”

Seth just smirked. Even without Richie’s offering himself to him, he would take it; he was ravenous and the prospect of finding a prey didn’t seem very appealing to a newly turned culebra with zero experience in the hunting business. If he had to spend the rest of his time as a snake, he might as well learn to be one properly. Not today though; today he wanted ready meal.

One hand pressing into Richie’s chest to hold him down, Seth dived in.

“How is he?”

“Belly full, neatly tucked in and peacefully sleeping,” Richie answered, gesturing to the body sprawling on top of his. Seth wasn’t exactly light-weighted and he hadn’t been able to relax for the past few hours. Half of his own body had gone numb, something he hadn’t known a culebra was capable of. Kudos for new discovery.

Kate was standing at the door, clad in form-hugging jeans, leather jacket and a Fanglorious tee –  special edition. Her hair was let loose and a bit tousled and her makeup smudged.

“Did you have a good time?”

“It was fun,” Kate replied, approaching the bed with ease in spite of the thick darkness. “The after-party was really wild though. I haven’t attended a party for so long I was a bit overwhelmed.” A short pause, her eyes gazing down at Seth. “So he’s a culebra now.”

“Yes. He was pissed off. Probably still is when he wakes up.”

Kate sat down on the mattress, her hand reaching to touch the side of Seth’s face as a habit. She decided against it, not wanting to disturb his sleep. “Shouting-pissed-off or punching-pissed-off?” she asked, scanning the walls. “Not shooting-pissed-off, I guess?”

“Biting-pissed-off,” Richie said, half-chuckling. “He nearly drained me. I almost believed he wanted to kill me in wrath but no, he was just hungry, like every other newly turned culebra.”

“No wonder you look so haggard,” Kate commented.

“Your eyesight has been upgraded again, I see.”

“I’m belonging more and more to the night as time passes. You want the neck or the wrist?”


“Feeding, Richie. It’s too late to get you some pervert who messes with underage girls and expects to get away with it. You don’t want to show up in front of your employees tomorrow looking like the walking dead, do you?”

“Technically, I’m mostly dead,” he quipped. “Wrist, that’d be easier to moderate my drinking.”

Unceremoniously she brought her right wrist to his mouth and unceremoniously, he took her offer. They had done it a couple of times before, her feeding him when preys were dire, and every time, he went to great lengths to give her the least discomfort as possible.

She tasted like sweet strawberry popsicle on a summer day, cool and soothing just like he remembered, but today there was a little spice added to the usual flavor. She had been drinking at Scott’s party so it didn’t startle him. He caught glimpses of the concert through her bloodstream: Scott screaming at the top of his lungs, the fans chanting his name like he was some sort of god, Scott pulling her to the stage, them singing together and having quality sibling-bonding time.

She had had a good time. Richie smiled upon learning that. He retracted his fangs shortly after, flicking his tongue against her pulse to bid adios to her soft, fragrant skin. Above him, she moaned.

Gochisousama deshita, as the Japanese say ‘Thank you for the meal’.”

A small smile graced her lips. “The way Seth is, I suppose we can kiss goodbye to all the love gloves stuffed in the drawer.”

Richie nodded. “He wasn’t particularly happy about that. Said I ‘castrated’ him and ended the Gecko bloodline.”

“Always elegant with his choice of word. Besides, I’m not sure I should have babies with the queen of hell’s blood making me more Xibalban every day.”

“We can adopt,” he suggested, “if that’s what you want.”

“Kids adopted by a family of snakes? Sounds very Grimm. Besides, I’m eighteen, Richie. I haven’t reached the age to seriously think about having children yet.”

Kate shrugged out of her boots and her jacket and stripped down until she was only wearing her tee and her panties. She let out a long, open-mouthed yawn while she pulled her bra out under the tee and discarded it on the heap of clothes. “Right now I want to have a long sleep. Urg, Seth’s hogging you, again. Is there’s still space for me?”

“There’s always space for you,” Richie answered, patting the mattress on his right.

She grinned, climbed on the bed and nestled against his right side. “Fitted like a glove,” she mumbled. “We have a lot to talk about tomorrow.”

“We do, but for now, goodnight, Kate.”

“You mean, good morning?”

“Yeah, good morning, Kate.”

Then he kissed the top of her hair, taking in the scent of her hair, and closed his eyes.

Richie might have drifted off for a few minutes when Kate’s voice raised. “Do you think the ‘first blood, first kill’ rule applies to culebras as well?”

“I haven’t heard about it, not from Kisa,” he replied sleepily. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, it just hits me that Seth’s first blood was yours, so…”

A moment of silence. “Right…” Richie muttered under his breath. “I may need to give Kisa a call tomorrow…”

The next evening he gave his ex a call and later wished he hadn’t.



As I was writing this story, it suddenly occurred to me how incredible it was for Richie to not only keep his venom for himself but also control his thirst to not drain Seth in 1×10. He was a newborn culebra and starving and moreover, he’d had tasted Seth’s blood. Yet he was able to take just a little blood and stop although he had stated ‘I couldn’t help it’ earlier in the labyrinth.

This story happens in the same universe as other FDTD fanfics I wrote Don’t Think About Tomorrow (We’ve Only Got Today) and ‘Tis a Night at Jacknife Jed’s (which explains why Richie can speak Japanese).

Title came from Simon Curtis’s song Flesh.

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