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Song Lan mourns the days when it was easier to find someone without leaving a digital trail. Even now, the club is full of smartphone cameras and inseparable groups of friends grinding together and throwing their heads back in laughter. People who will be missed. People who will leave a record of where they were, where they were going.
But he can feel the ache in the pit of his stomach; he’s nearing his limit, so he’s come out tonight in a last-ditch effort to sate his hunger. Weaving his way through the crowd, he watches the other patrons carefully. He dances first with a small, frail man who appears to be many years his own junior. He’s not exactly Song Lan’s type, but he’s serviceable enough at the last minute. His eyes are smudged with black eyeliner and his dark lipstick is smeared over his mouth, revealing some of his tan skin below the powder-white makeup he’s covered in. Song Lan politely detaches himself when he notices his blown-out pupils in a flash of light.
The second option is a good-enough looking man, if still rather average. He dances with Song Lan like he’s trying to prove something. He leans up a few times to try and whisper something in Song Lan’s ear that cannot be heard over the din of the club. His dance partner’s eyes gleam with a desperation Song Lan finds unsettling, and when he bites his lip and looks over at another clubber more than just a few times, Song Lan manages to lose him in the crowd.
He’s without a partner for a while, scanning the crowd around him. He knows he’s a bit too stiff in these environments; he’s never been great with strangers or with words. Since he’s been on his own, seeking someone for a night has been harder, less enjoyable, with both the seduction and the follow-through resting on his shoulders alone. Worse still, many people around him are already paired up, with a group of friends, or otherwise far too wasted to bother with. Too much is done online anymore, and it’s harder and harder to meet someone new on a night out. The fact that he’s now coming out alone doesn’t make the hunt any easier.
But he doesn’t need to wait long before his third option finds him, slipping into his arms mid-song. He looks up nearly the entire time, his dark eyes so fixated on Song Lan’s face that it rides the edge of uncomfortable and arousing.He’s a bit shorter than Song Lan is, dressed head to toe in black clothes that cling to his lithe body. They dance together for another song, and then another, all while the stranger gets bolder with his hands and his eyes. He tugs Song Lan towards the edge of the dance floor, in the direction of the exit sign, glowing like an omen. A willing sacrifice, then, and just in time.
“I’m a biter,” he whispers in Song Lan’s ear the moment he’s pressed against the wall near the exit. His hands drift lower still, unnoticeable in the dim club, and his smile widens at what he finds. Song Lan is on edge. He is dying of anticipation. Hunger gnaws at his stomach as the stranger nips up the line of his neck. “Come home with me.”
Song Lan nods and they make a quick exit. On the sidewalk, he flags down a taxi despite the stranger’s insistence he can call a Lyft. The still-unnamed clubber lets his hands wander in the back of the cab, and when Song Lan removes his hands with more force than necessary, he grins a bit too widely. Before long, they reach their destination and Song Lan hands the driver more bills than needed in a rush to get inside, his hookup’s hands already getting busy again.
They practically crash through the front door. It’s not part of Song Lan’s usual routine to actually go through with the hookup, but it’s been so long since his breakup and the kisses feel so good. His hookup is biting hard into the juncture of his neck and his shoulder. Song Lan is pushing his shirt up over his head. They’re still pressed up against the front door by the time they get half undressed, and by then Song Lan insists on taking it into the bedroom.
***
In the morning, he wakes littered with bruises bitten into his skin. He’d meant to stop after he’d gotten it out of his system once, but then the stranger would gasp in his ear, “one more time,” and they’d go again, both grateful for Song Lan’s unnatural stamina. The sex has made him feel surprisingly clear-headed. Maybe he was missing it, and a warm body to sleep next to, more than he’d thought.
Daylight makes the situation less than ideal, but it’s not his own home, and he’s sure he hadn’t left any trace or trail. His DNA won’t be traceable, won’t even be recognizable. With the light of morning streaming in through the curtains, however, he’s alone in the bed. The room clearly belongs to someone else; the dark, gauche decor isn’t something Song Lan would ever choose for himself, but there’s no trace of the stranger anymore save the crumpled blankets on the other side of the bed and clothing strewn about the floor that doesn’t belong to him.
But he does smell something: the scent of a body lingering, of sex and sweat, and breakfast cooking in the other room. He pulls on his pants from last night, despite the way they reek of a few hundred other people, and follows his nose.
His club hookup is frying hash browns in a stainless steel pan, his still-messy hair pulled up into a haphazard bun, an out-of-place and oversized t-shirt slung over his boxers. All this under a cutesy cat apron, the fabric ears at the top edge folding over slightly, limp with age and use. Song Lan wrinkles his nose at the smell of the food.
“You’re up,” he says, giving Song Lan an appreciative once over. “I hope you’re okay with vegan breakfast; this is an animal-free kitchen. And as a reward for your performance last night, I brought out the good stuff.” He leers at his houseguest and gestures to a plate of odd-looking sausages. Or “sausages,” Song Lan supposes, if they’re not animal-based. He idly wonders what they are made of; he’s never tried vegan alternatives.
But he’ll eat just about anything when he’s this hungry, so he shrugs in noncommittal agreement.
“I don’t think I got your name last night,” the stranger says, waving his silicone spatula in the air. “Although we were admittedly preoccupied.”
“Do you need it?”
“Nice to know what name to call out when I think of this later on,” the stranger tells him, grinning. He begins loading two plates with food: something yellow that looks but doesn’t quite look like egg and smells a bit too earthy to be egg, the hashbrowns, the sausages, and a good handful of what appear to be roasted cherry tomatoes. A bit of a feast for a stranger from a gay club, but his growling stomach betrays him. He’ll need an excuse to stay longer anyway, and if this man is a willing host, so be it.
His hookup holds out a plate and then pulls it back when Song Lan reaches for it. “Your name, babe?”
Song Lan nearly growls, but holds himself back and sighs. “Zichen,” he says. He’s rewarded with a plate of food.
“Xue Yang.” He winks, showing his teeth again, like a wolf about to attack.
Xue Yang doesn’t have a dining room. His place is surprisingly clean, if cluttered, but it’s small. He sets his plate down on the coffee table in the living room instead, then rests his hand on Song Lan’s thigh when he follows suit and settles down. Song Lan doesn’t bother to move his hand, feels the warmth seep in through the fabric of his pants.
The strange smell he’d noticed from the food in the kitchen persists, but he’s not sure he’s ever had sausages made out of…whatever this is. Xue Yang seems to notice his apprehension and throws him a bone.
“It’s seitan,” he says. “My own special recipe.”
“What is seitan, exactly?” Song Lan asks, scooping a forkful of the egg-like stuff into his mouth. The texture isn’t eggy, but that’s to its benefit. It’s flavorful; he picks out a number of spices Xue Yang has likely used to season it, and the added bell peppers provide a good contrast in texture and brightness. But behind that, there’s a lingering bitterness that leans metallic. It’s disguised well enough that Song Lan is sure he wouldn’t have been able to taste it if his senses were duller.
“It’s wheat gluten, mostly,” Xue Yang says through a mouthful of potato. Song Lan wants to remind him of his table manners, but it’s not like it’ll ever be relevant past this point. “I usually add some extra ingredients for texture. There’s even kale in it.” Sure enough, there are some green specks upon a closer examination.
Hesitantly, Song Lan takes a bite. It doesn’t taste like what he’d expect something made of wheat to taste. In fact, it tastes familiar, and that lingering bitter taste is still there at the back of his throat. It doesn’t take long for him to figure out the flavor that’s lingering on his tongue; it whets his appetite immediately. There’s nothing else quite like it. Despite the bitterness at the back of his throat, he’s tempted to down the rest of it right away. But that’s not the concern at this moment.
“You–! This isn’t wheat. This is human,” he says, rising to his feet. He finds himself losing control over himself in his shock; he clenches his fists to try and keep it together. His nails dig firmly into his palms until he can feel the wetness of blood pooling under his fingernails. He tastes the bitterness again and accuses Xue Yang again, with renewed vigor. “And you tried to drug me.”
“Tried,” Xue Yang says, sitting far too casually for someone who’s been found out. He licks his lips, eyeing Song Lan over. “Usually that works. But don’t be too mad at me. How do you even know what human flesh tastes like?” His grin is as predatory as any Song Lan has ever seen on a human face.
“Oh my god,” Song Lan says, the full horror of the situation dawning on him. Xue Yang seems to find this all very humorous.
“It’s kind of hot that you’ve eaten human before,” he’s saying. “Wanna go another round?”
“And if I decide to just kill you instead?”
“You promise?” Xue Yang says, fluttering his eyelashes upwards at Song Lan. “You gonna grab a knife from the block in the kitchen, slice me open, and fuck my corpse? Better yet, you could keep me alive for it. Slice pieces off of my body to eat until I bleed out. Do you even need a knife, babe?”
He makes lingering eye contact with Song Lan and then says, tone changing from overly flirtatious to something more genuine. “Your eyes–”
Song Lan blinks rapidly, certain he knows just what Xue Yang is seeing in his eyes: a gleam of predatory instinct, a hint of gold. This is not working him up, he tells himself. This isn’t working on him. This is absurd.
Tongue-tied, he looks pointedly away from Xue Yang, willing himself under control.
“You know, I’d heard some rumors about wolves in the area,” Xue Yang says, and Song Lan’s eyes snap to him. It seems to be confirmation enough. “And to think I’ve gotten to joyride one,” he crows, jubilant. “I’ve lost interest in killing you. What do you say to being partners?”
“Wait. Wait,” Song Lan says, rubbing his temples, “What do I even get out of that? What do you?” We barely know each other, he thinks. This is absurd. And yet, Xue Yang is alive, despite how easily his flesh would give way if Song Lan only wishes.
“Please, old man–”
“I’m only 42.”
“I saw you last night, remember? If I hadn’t come along to save you, who knows how long it would have taken someone to take poor, stiff Zichen home. I’m better at this than you.” Xue Yang relaxes further on the floor, his back resting against his worn couch. “I thought we were very compatible last night, but it seems like we have even more in common than I realized.”
Song Lan rolls his eyes. “I doubt we have much in common.”
“Please,” Xue Yang says. “What you need, I have. I can keep you fed, Rover. Besides, doesn’t your kind hunt in groups? Aren’t you lonely?”
Song Lan’s jaw clenches, and that yet again seems to be enough of an answer for Xue Yang, who looks at him knowingly. He feels like he’s losing, although he can easily overpower one single human. He hates to make a mess somewhere he’ll need to clean it up. He’s always done his best to leave no trace and move on, taking only what he needs.
Something registers suddenly in Song Lan’s mind, and he conveniently ignores Xue Yang’s questions to ask one of his own.. “Aren’t you a vegan?”
“Well, yeah, I’m not a monster,” Xue Yang says. His voice sounds tinged with longing, like there’s something good about being a monster. Like it’s something he’d want to be. Song Lan reels back.
“Are you trying to get yourself turned?”
Xue Yang has the gall to look disgusted and horrified at the mere thought. “No,” he says, very firmly. “I do this because I enjoy it. Being tethered down by need isn’t exactly the kind of fun I’m looking for. No, it’s just kind of hot, you know.”
“I don’t.”
“Well you wouldn’t,” Xue Yang says, like this should be self-evident. “Come on. You free tonight? Let’s give it a test drive. If I don’t live up to the hype, you can kill me and go about your sad, pathetic, lonely life.” He sticks out his hand. It’s missing the pinky finger.
Song Lan looks at it for a long minute, swallowing hard. Then he reaches out and clasps Xue Yang’s hand in his own.
“Now,” Xue Yang says with a smile. “We have all day. I can think of a few ways to keep ourselves entertained.”
***
They’re at a different club than the one Song Lan had chosen the other night. For the sake of variety, Xue Yang tells him, and this one is closer to the edge of town. Less people live out this way. The club had once been an abandoned warehouse before the current owner had purchased it and turned it into an industrial club. Most other businesses in the area close at night, allowing partygoers more privacy.
Xue Yang had fed Song Lan a bit from his deep freezer. All of the meat had been processed, mostly just ground, none of it remaining in a recognizably human form. His hunger is not yet sated, however, despite the food cooling the urgency of it. He needs something fresher, bloodier, and Xue Yang has promised to feed him well.
They don’t pay much attention to anyone else right after arrival. Everything is pre-scripted: Xue Yang gets them mocktails so they look like they’re drinking, and once they’ve emptied a couple of cups each, they head to the throng on the dance floor. The way Xue Yang dances with him is filthy, grinding against him like foreplay. Song Lan finds his role in the charade easy; he cannot keep his eyes off of Xue Yang.
For several songs they dance together like this, only breaking after a while to head back to the bar and get another couple of drinks. Xue Yang leans against Song Lan, who wraps an arm around his shoulder in return. He keeps his gaze only on Xue Yan, nearly forgetting he’s supposed to be doing so for the act. This scene seems to bring him alive. He’s magnetic.
And he’s letting his gaze wander around the bar while Song Lan’s arm is still around him. They sip their drinks until the cups are empty, and head back out to the floor, where Xue Yang manages to dance dirtier, up against Song Lan’s body like he wants to have sex right there in the middle of the club. It’s inebriating, and going right to his head no matter how hard he strives to keep himself clear. His fingers dig into Xue Yang’s hips, grasping for anything to ground himself, finding instead how fluid Xue Yang’s movements are.
Xue Yang eventually excuses himself to go to the bathroom, just as they’d discussed, rising up on his toes to give Song Lan a searing kiss, biting his lip hard when he pulls away.
“Don’t miss me too much,” he says, his fingertips lingering on Song Lan’s chest, and it seems more for Song Lan’s benefit than for the show they’re putting on. To avoid the throng of sweaty bodies on the dance floor, he heads back to the bar. He hasn’t been there long when someone else, a nondescript man wearing a powder blue button up, comes up to him, leaning on the bar casually. He barely looks at Song Lan.
“Seems like your boyfriend’s trying to step out on you,” the guy says after a beat. He takes a long drink, and Song Lan looks over at him with a raised brow but doesn’t say anything.
“Come on,” the guy continues, slurring a little. “I’m just trying to give you a heads up. You seem really into him and he just looks like he’s shopping around. I mean, he was giving me eyes, you know.”
Song Lan inhales, considering his words carefully before speaking. “What makes you think I’m unaware that he’s looking around?” The guy’s eyes widen before his mouth opens.
Xue Yang comes back from the bathroom before he can speak, sliding up next to Song Lan with a grin. “Do we have company, babe?” he asks, looking the man up and down and biting his lower lip.
“Your choice,” he says. Xue Yang’s eyes light up as he turns to the stranger, looking as happy as could be to be receiving such a nice gift.
“Let’s take him home,” Xue Yang finally says, slipping a finger in the belt loop of the man’s jeans and dragging him in closer. The man takes a stumbling step forward. “You don’t mind, do you?”
He seems stunned. “No,” he says, as soon as he’s gathered his composure.
“Let’s go, then,” Xue Yang tells him, and Song Lan nods. “You don’t have to let your friends know you’re leaving, right?”
The man shakes his head. “No, I came out tonight alone.”
Song Lan knows that Xue Yang likely already knows as much. This had always been the plan, and this stranger has been beguiled by an expert. Song Lan only hopes he hasn’t been as well.
“Our place isn’t far from here. Especially if we take a shortcut,” Xue Yang says. “There’s even a little nook we can pop into, if you’re into that kind of thing.”
Their chosen victim nods dumbly, transfixed.
***
The direction they go is, of course, not in the direction of either Xue Yang’s place nor Song Lan’s extended stay hotel. It’s also not particularly close to the club, but the man seems drunk enough on both alcohol and Xue Yang’s charms not to notice for quite a while. He doesn’t say anything until they get to the edge of town, the trees dotting their path growing denser and more wild.
“Wait,” he says, slurring his words a little. “You two live in the woods?”
“Yeah,” Xue Yang says, sounding a little breathless. “It’s nice and private. We can be as loud as we want, right, babe?”
Song Lan nods, not trusting himself not to say the wrong thing. He’s never been good at this part of things; his tongue sits dumb and heavy in his mouth more often than not. And being so close to the satisfaction of ripping into flesh again has made him need to fight a little harder to keep control. His hands are clenched into fists. It’s all he can do to keep himself together, let alone figure out exactly what words to string together to ease the worries of a man who should be very, very worried.
“Here,” he manages, a little gruffly, when they reach the part of the woods he’d told Xue Yang about earlier. It’s not visible from outside, and it’s far enough away from the rest of the city that no one will hear anything.
Not that they’ll let the guy live long enough to scream.
Xue Yang smiles and sets about distracting the guy, touching him gently on the arm to turn his attention away from Song Lan, who works quickly but efficiently to remove his clothes and gingerly drape them over a low branch.
Xue Yang is whispering sweet promises in their victim’s ear while the guy paws all over him, but his eyes are looking over his shoulder at Song Lan, who is now naked and letting his body transform. The change is quick, hot, and fluid. To be in this form after so long without it feels like gasping for air after holding his breath. The world shifts around him, too, as his perspective changes. A little bigger, the colors a little duller, but the sounds and the smells sharper.
And he’s so, so hungry.
He wastes no time in lunging at the man as Xue Yang jumps out of the way, eyes wide and gleeful. Song Lan rips into the stranger’s throat before he can even open his mouth to scream, hot blood gushing coating his tongue. The feeling of wet flesh giving way under his teeth is heaven. He rips chunks of flesh from the corpse’s neck and swallows greedily. The clothes shred under his claws, exposing more flesh, pale and still warm. He’s dimly aware that they can’t be here all night, but he still takes what time he can cleaning the meat from the bones: nibbling along the spine, tearing away muscle and fat, lapping up the blood.
The smell of the blood is overpowering and mouth-watering: metal overtaking the soft earthy scent of the forest as violence overtakes peace. He rips into the corpse’s stomach, hears the squelch. The soft organs slide easily down his throat. He pops the unseeing eyes out of the skull to gulp them down, rips the scalp from bone, cracks the globe of the head and devours the brain.
His long tongue darts out to find any remaining trace of flesh, which he delicately picks from the bones when he finds it. There’s little time to savor the fatty, rich taste, but he feels thickly satisfied, lazy with it. When the bones are licked clean, he cracks them open and slurps down the marrow. The ribs and other small bones crunch easily between his teeth. When he’s done, sitting back on his haunches and sated, there are only large bones and the shreds of clothes left, and the blood that remains on his body.
Although changing back so quickly feels wrong, he knows he needs to. For now, he’ll have to communicate with Xue Yang, who is watching with quickened breath and wide eyes, about how to handle the rest of the remains. When he’s human again, nude and bloody, Xue Yang is on him like a sparkler catches fire, his tongue sliding into Song Lan’s mouth, lapping at the blood.
“God,” he says, breathless, against Song Lan’s mouth. “That was so hot. You’re so hot. Should’ve done this years ago. Where have you been all this time?”
It seems like he doesn’t want an answer, because he goes back to kissing Song Lan, his hands slipping through the blood that covers his naked skin, getting himself and his clothes covered in an ample amount of evidence. It’ll make it hard for them to make it back to his place for the night, but Song Lan have the space to think about that right now.
He’s missed this. Having someone who knows who and what he is, who is willing to help him get what he needs. Even someone enthusiastic about it. He finds himself responding to Xue Yang’s advances. Feeding has never been sexual for him, but his body remembers last night and his blood is rushing from the adrenaline of the kill. His arms have been empty for too long, reaching out for someone to hold.
As he lays Xue Yang out on the forest floor, he can see this happening again, over and over, and he knows Xue Yang has won.