Chapter Text
The others were out, hitting the town with Stu and the pack. Anton had not wanted to let his pack out without his supervision. Still, eventually, he had figured they’d have to go alone at some point (yes, he knew that wasn’t how wolf packs worked, and he’d definitively left Stu in charge for the night because the pack would never keep it together without a leader).
And Viago and Anton were alone, sitting on the settee, and Viago kept leaning in close to Anton. Probably thought Anton couldn’t hear or feel the way the vampire was sniffing tentatively. Didn’t notice the way he kept slowly drifting his face closer and then pulling back. And Anton knew this wasn’t some kind of attraction thing. If Viago wanted a kiss, he would have asked, plain and simple, like ‘I think I would like a kiss now please’. So it was something else.
“Everything ok there, mate?” Anton asked.
“Mmm,” Viago hummed, sounding almost dazed. “Oh!”—he snapped out of it, pulled away again—“Yes, everything is fine, thank you! I am just… perhaps feeling… a little hungry.” He held his hand up with his thumb and pointer close together.
Anton felt a spark of interest deep down as Viago licked his lips. He tipped his head to the side, presenting his neck. “Go on then,” he prompted and waited for pain or pleasure or whatever it would be.
Viago hummed a little nervous noise, lifting and settling his arms again on repeat. His eyes didn’t meet Anton’s, but they often didn’t, so that was okay. “I think that this maybe is not a very good idea, because I think that maybe I might have a biting accident, and you might, uh, bleed to death,” Viago said, hushed.
“Nah,” Anton said. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”
“Mm, I think it… won’t be.”
“Oh, come on now! Don’t be so hard on yourself! But I’m actually a little offended you don’t trust me to know my own limits. Wolves heal fast. So fast we barely even lose blood!” Anton said, firmer than he’d meant to. He needed to learn to reign in that defensiveness…
It was true, though.
Defiantly, Anton brought his hand to his neck and allowed his nails to become claw-like, scratching deep into the skin, blood drawn, the smell sharp in the air. And Viago’s eyes slipped closed and his tongue darted out to wet his lips, Anton catching little glimpses of his fangs.
“Go on. Really, I’ve bled rivers before and been perfectly fine,” Anton urged.
There was a dark glint in Viago’s eyes when he opened them. The shine in them had become red like blood, but it could have been a trick of the light. It was something he wasn’t even sure he’d seen. Anton expected Viago to attack him with a look like that in his eyes. But the swift movement the vampire made was to reach under the couch and pull out what looked like a very tattered and stained towel. He layed it over the couch smoothly.
“What’s that for?” Anton asked.
“In case of a bit of a mess,” Viago answered softly. Anton swallowed when Viago then moved his hand from his neck out into the air, miming a spurt of blood.
“Right then,” he said and took a steadying breath. “When you’re ready, mate, honestly. Go ahead.”
Viago was slow. He seemed more awkward than hesitant, and that was fair enough. There was faltering eye contact between them as Viago leant closer.
“Let me just, ah, there,” Viago mumbled as his face came close to the crook of Anton’s neck, and he brushed the little ends of hair away from behind his ear. The vampire licked his lips, and that hunger was a good look on him. It was so desperate, so painstakingly restrained. Anton felt his heart flutter.
Viago didn’t need to breathe, and Anton knew—he had been told—the vampire had made a habit of breathing, just because then he didn’t need to think about it and remember to do so if he needed to speak. But the air on Anton’s neck was cold, the same as the air breathing out of the mouth of a cave. Everything was cold. Viago’s face was cold enough Anton could feel that even though it wasn’t touching his skin yet, like when one’s hand hovers close to cool stone. And his fingers were cold too, curling into the hair at the nape of Anton’s neck in a way that made the pack alpha emit an embarrassingly puppy-like whine.
Finally, dewy lips brushed against the tender part of Anton’s throat, ice-cold to send a shiver up his spine and yet soft as silk, far softer than he had ever expected. There was something about the coldness of the vampire’s body that had Anton expecting him to be like marble. But his flesh had just as much give as Anton’s, and the werewolf could feel his vein beating with his heart under Viago’s lips.
The shock of the feeling of Viago’s tongue against his throat made him startle, and then the resulting tightening of Viago’s hand in his hair made him keen. But he gasped when without warning, the sharp pain of Viago’s teeth in his neck burst through his flesh. And he felt his blood flow heavily out of the wound. He leant into Viago’s mouth, off-balance by the feeling of it.
Viago made a noise against Anton’s neck as blood dribbled between where they were connected. It was a growl that seemed so out of place coming from Viago’s throat Anton almost forgot himself and growled back—he didn’t, but it was a near thing. Viago, Anton realised, was not himself right now. The hums he was making against Anton’s neck were desperate, hungry, greedy sounds of pleasure. He moaned with the rhythmic swallows in a way that made Anton think of sex; animal and cadenced. And it didn’t help that the only other noise he could hear was the wet movement of Viago’s mouth on his neck. Occasionally the slurping sounds were almost pornographic in accompaniment of Viago’s satisfied moans.
Anton didn’t know what blood loss was meant to feel like. He wondered if he would feel it when Viago had had enough. Then again, he healed fast, and he always had. He’d been born like this, not like the others. And he’d bled pools of red into the soft earth many times before, horrible amounts of blood that had police asking questions door-to-door. Would Viago take more than that? Anton felt the flow from his neck still relentless into Viago’s mouth.
Anton felt Viago’s grip in his hair loosen. The vampire’s swallows tripped every once and again, and his slowing drinking caused hot blood to dribble down Anton’s neck as it escaped Viago’s mouth. The cold tongue moved against Anton’s throat as Viago choked on another mouthful of his blood. The vampire was making more noises now, they were more desperate, needy little whining sounds, and his swallows were halting, faltering, sporadic.
It was strange because the noises were so hungry, but Viago was slowing down. He knew as creatures vampires were known for excess and hedonism. Viago’s hungry noises even though Anton knew he must have drunk a lot by now, the reputation of vampires for adoring glutting themselves on blood… Anton wondered if Viago was capable of satiating his thirst. He wondered if vampires ever stopped being hungry, or if their bloodlust was insatiable. His blood-flow was a strong stream still, and Viago was spilling more and more of it, and Anton could hear his gulping swallows so desperate against his neck.
Anton felt Viago splutter more than before against his neck, and with a final drawn out whimper he pulled away from the other man’s neck. Anton blinked as the vampire slumped heavily against the cushions and there was a noise of liquid movement he couldn’t quite place.
“Are you done?” Anton asked. He was sure the answer would be yes, but before he slathered his wound in his own saliva and closed it up, he wanted to be sure. He was bleeding a pulsing stream down his neck but he’d long since accepted none of his clothes were ever going to avoid being ruined, and this shirt had been no exception, even as it was a nicer once he’d put on just to see Viago.
In response, the vampire offered a pained groan. He placed a hand clumsily on his belly and blinked as he looked up at the ceiling. Anton noticed that since he’d drunk from him, the fabric of Viago’s waistcoat puckered a little around the buttons, and though his view of the extent of it was blocked by layers of fabric, it was still plain that Viago was visibly glutted. That made something in Anton’s own tummy flutter, and there was ice-cold heat coiling inside him under his belly-button. He wetted his lips. Was this supposed to happen? Was this just what happened to vampires when they fed? He only remembered to heal his wound when the hard fast beating of his heart soaked his shirt with blood.
Throat dry, re-wetting his lips, Anton breathed a steadying breath. “You alright, mate?” he asked, flinching at the fascination obvious in his voice.
The light was low, but Anton could see in the dark. Viago looked to him, finally, so abundant of blood that his normally bloodless face was a little pink. The vampire had blood down his chin and neck, drying thick on his skin. He opened and closed his mouth, and Anton could hear his lips sticking and his tongue moving.
Finally, Viago looked as though he would answer. His lips parted and he looked at Anton. He burped, and started at the sound. It wasn’t quiet or brief, and his face went even redder than it had been in embarrassment, his hand flying to cover his mouth.
“I am so sorry,” he squeaked. “I am… I am fine…” (he didn’t sound very sure).
Anton wasn’t sure he would have actually needed his wolf senses or not to hear the sound of overwhelment Viago’s stomach made in the silence between them.
“Seems like you got a little carried away,” Anton laughed half-heartedly. Just saying that, his arousal stirred within him. He clenched his fists against it. This should have been a million times easier to control than the wolf. It wasn’t.
“Normally I can tell when to”—Viago hiccuped—“stop because the blood…” the hand on his belly lifted and waved a vague motion before he laid it back down “…changes.”
“Guess wolf blood doesn’t do that,” Anton said.
“It didn’t. And it didn’t run out! I only knew to stop when I couldn’t swallow anymore.” Viago was smiling a little, and his words sounded innocently fascinated, and he stuck his tongue out to try and lick the blood from his chin.
“Yeah, wolf blood doesn’t really run out. It… regenerates? Replenish… I dunno. Doesn’t… doesn’t run out,” Anton said, distracted by the way Viago’s superfluous breaths made the strain of his waistcoat more apparent. “How do you feel?” Anton allowed himself to ask, swallowing nervously.
“Full,” Viago grinned, and slumped on the settee, giving a self-satisfied pat to his belly, he certainly looked it. “Very—” he burped again, short. He turned red again, absolutely flush with blood, and continued quieter; “Very full.”
“Sorry about that, maybe should have warned you a little better,” Anton breathed, his heart beating hard and fast and if the blood loss hadn’t managed to before, this made him dizzy.
“You have a lot of blood,” Viago said, and Anton could hear a pant in his breath.
Viago didn’t need to breathe if it made him uncomfortable, and he was choosing to breathe, so he was probably fine… but that waistcoat looked really tight, and… it would probably be better to take it off.
“Here,” Anton said, finding his hands already unfastening Viago’s buttons. “Looks tight.”
It was tight. The more buttons Anton undid, the more Viago’s belly, under his frilly white shirt, seemed to expand into the free space. And with the waistcoat off, Anton could see just how swollen with blood Viago’s stomach was. His belly was rounded out with fullness.
Anton didn’t see just how impressively it bulged out from under his ribs until Viago—unprompted—removed his shirt. “Too hot,” the vampire said right before another hiccup that jostled his belly. Anton heard a slosh of liquid, and he might have only been able to because of his wolf senses, but he really wasn’t sure, and the thought either way made him blush as red as Viago.
Anton reached forward without really meaning to. His hands met Viago’s belly and he drew them back as if he was burned. But Viago smiled at him. “This actually might help me a little,” he panted. “Bellyache.”
And Anton’s desperate fingers returned, overly fascinated, to Viago’s belly, which was actually warm. Anton’s blood so hot inside him it had made him hot too, and he was so full of blood his skin was flushed where it otherwise would have been pale, blood all through him.
Viago smiled, extremely pleased, as Anton tried to work out what to do with his hands. Viago’s belly was full of blood, taut but with a liquid give. When Anton kneaded rougher, he could hear the liquid move and see it’s motion inside Viago. Viago who looked dazed. Blood-drunk and grinning, but who flinched at every burp.
A hiccup jostled Viago’s belly and it Anton looked on in a sort of awe as it sort of… bounced with the movement. And the blood sloshed inside. Viago was more or less perpetually red in embarrassment now, despite this being punctuated by a rather self-satisfied little grin that gave Anton a terrible thrill.
“You know it’s fine to—” Anton was interrupted by another of Viago’s burps. “—that, that’s fine,” Anton said.
“I’m sorry,” Viago said awkwardly. “I have not really had this since I was human, I don’t know how to make it go away.”
“Well, you just sort of have to… live with them, until they’re all out,” Anton said. “But you know, they’re fine by me. Honestly, I don’t care. Happens sometimes. Even to wolves, when we… when we eat too fast or too much.”
Anton cringes a little, thinking about the distress of his overfull stomach the night after a full moon, if he’d gotten ahold of an animal or a human while in wolf form and eaten it. It happened sometimes… and transforming back, into a man smaller than his wolf self, his belly was always swollen and gurgling, and he’d have to stifle burps all day. He was really very hungry now, actually, after giving all that blood. So hungry that even that uncomfortable feeling seemed appealing. He would eat later.
Anton kneaded Viago’s belly softly in the dim light. A few times, it made Viago burp. The vampire no longer seemed embarrassed. Eventually, though, Viago became very still, and Anton noted he seemed to have stopped breathing. He had almost certainly fallen asleep. His stomach groaned a little in the silence, protesting its fullness. Anton sighed.
“Viago, mate, get up,” he said, shaking the vampire, who only conceded when the shaking jostled his belly which made another distressed noise.
“What are you doing, dear-wolf?” Viago asked, his blank expression of sleep returning easily to an awkward but pleased smile. His words were thick with sleep.
“Can’t sleep here, buddy. Gotta get you to that coffin. Ancestral soil, you know?” Anton said with a smile. Viago was… endearing, always. Probably more than ever like this.
Viago’s hands came back up to his belly. “I would like to stay here,” he said, his face serious in a very sweet way, because Anton knew that he knew he had to move.
“It’s bedtime, buddy,” Anton whispered.
“I very much do not really want to move,” Viago complained.
Anton slipped his arms under Viago’s body and lifted him swiftly. Viago groaned at the movement, his belly in his hands. Still, Anton carried him into the other room and tucked him into his coffin. Waited until he was asleep again to close the lid, looking at his relaxed face, his proneness in sleep, skin flushed with an excess of blood, belly full. And he looked just adorable like that.