Work Text:
Your shoes clicked softly against the cracked pavement as you walked down the dimly lit street, approaching the familiar building you had been in a mere hour before. It was late, long after the end of your shift, but after getting back to your apartment you had realised that you left your bag, along with your keys, at the internet café you worked at. You had no problem walking in the dark, as you’d lived in the city for several years now, and you knew the streets like the back of your hand - or, at least, you knew the way to work.
As you reached for the door handle, you felt a sharp pricking sensation on the inside of your hand - you jumped instinctively, squinting at your palm in the soft light. Not thinking much of it despite the lingering sting, you opened the door more carefully, the faint jingle of a bell ringing above your head.
The door was unlocked, but inside was near pitch black, not even the cherry coloured glow of a cigarette shone through the darkness. Joost, the only other employee, usually took the night shift - but maybe he had fallen asleep, which wasn’t exactly unusual for him. Not knowing where the light switch was, you felt around in the dark, attempting to use the surrounding tables and chairs as walking aids.
“...Joost?” you called out, stepping blindly into shadow, “you in here..?” Listening closely to the silence, you squinted again, trying to make out where your bag might have been.
Without warning, the lights flickered and you heard the jingle of the doorbell again - you spun around to see the door closing, yet no silhouette appeared against the far wall.
“Uh, hello? We’re open, I think, just need to find-” you yell at the empty air, but before you can finish your sentence, you’re cut off as the wind is knocked out of you.
Hitting the floor with a thud, you frantically attempted to shove whatever just pounced on you, your hands landing on face and mustache and sharp teeth. Despite the low light, you could easily recognise Joost’s messy, platinum mop atop his head.
“Shit! Shit- stop, stop! Joost- stop!”
Suddenly, he paused, and you could see clearly as his pupils shrank and dilated, his crazed gaze melting into one of recognition. Slowly, you lowered your hands from his face, whispering a quiet “...what the fuck..?” more to yourself than to him.
He lifted himself off of you slightly, running his hand through his hair, “Shit… sorry, I.. thought you were someone else..”
You shook your head softly, “it’s... okay, I guess..?”
After a short silence, his nose twitched subtly, and something flashed in his eyes, “Are you bleeding?” Without waiting for an answer, he took your hand, inspecting your palm where, unbeknownst to you, the ‘small prick’ from the door handle had started to bleed and trickle down your arm.
He sighed, pressing your hand against his forehead and breathing in deeply - he mumbled into your sleeve, voice strained, “It’s been so long…”
Tentatively, he lifted your hand to his lips, the points of his teeth grazing your palm as he licked the blood from the wound. He let out a small groan, pressing your hand down into the floor, interlocking your fingers with his.
He mumbled, his tone darkening, “damn it… this hunger, it’s killing me, schat…” he moved his free hand up to gently graze your neck, nudging your jaw to the side with his thumb, “...alsjeblieft?”
The back of your mind had been screaming to say no, to leave with your bag and never return, but the look of desperation in Joost’s eyes and the softness of his plea managed to shred any semblance of logic in you. Not quite as nonchalantly as you would have liked, you nodded and turned your head to the side, closing your eyes and allowing him ample access to your neck.
You heard him breathe labouredly above you, feeling the sudden pressure increase on your chest as he leant down against you. You could feel his mustache brush against your jaw, then warm breath and a sharp scratch into the sensitive skin of your neck. A hot, angry pain flooded your senses - you exclaimed in anguish, grabbing into his hair with your free hand. He reached up to smooth your hair comfortingly, whispering apologies in between bites.
After a moment that felt like an hour, the pain started to dissipate, and before you could figure out why, your hand released Joost’s hair, and your vision faded to black.
~~~
Grumbling back to life, the pain in your neck suddenly came rushing back, and you jolted yourself awake. Opening your eyes, you lifted your head to see Joost, sitting across from you with the most apologetic look on his face, concern in his eyes, and blood still splattered around his mouth. You quickly realised that you were propped up against the back wall - the first aid kit was open next to you and its contents had been frantically strewn across the floor. You lifted your hand to your neck, a large bandage strapped across the wound.
“Don’t sit up too quick.” He reached out a cautionary hand, hesitating halfway and putting it back in his lap - he held out the lit cigarette in his hand, “Do you.. Want a cigarette?”
You couldn’t help but chuckle at his suggestion, shaking your head, “Thanks, but I don’t think that’s a good idea..”
He smiled back softly, glancing up at the digital clock - 03:21.
You paused, recollecting the earlier events, “...You called me ‘schat’.”
“Oh, I did..?” He chuckled anxiously, looking away, "Got caught in the moment, I guess…”
After a few seconds of thinking, you swallowed your fear and reached out to touch his knee reassuringly - I mean, he had almost mauled you to death 20 minutes ago, the worst that could happen would be dying of blood loss.
“I didn’t mind it, leifde.” you smiled, failing to hide your nerves.
You saw him flush despite the darkness, the faint glow of his cigarette illuminating his face, “...Leifde?”
You nodded, the adrenaline in your system giving you a much needed confidence boost. Attempting to ignore the surging ache in your neck, you shifted closer to him.
Realising your intentions, he frantically took one last puff, releasing a big plume of smoke into the air, before fumbling to find something to put the cigarette out on. He resulted in pushing the lit end into a nearby cabinet, singeing a hole in it.
It was hard to find each other in the shadows, but after cupping the other’s face, you managed to crash your lips into his, resting your free hand on his upper thigh for support. His sharp canines clattered with your own teeth as you moved to tangle your fingers in his hair again, the taste of smoke and blood lingering sweet on his mouth.
Lost in aggression and fervour, the two of you struggled to remember why either of you were here as you trailed open-mouthed kisses down your co-worker’s jaw, ravaging him as he did you just moments before - only, a bit less violently - the red-hot sting of your neck completely forgotten.