Chapter Text
Colorful lights reflected across the dance floor, shining in Shane’s periphery as he sat tucked into a corner booth at the back of the bar. He couldn’t believe Rose had convinced him to go out on his one free night that week—no classes, no training, not even any impending deadlines he could pull on for an easy excuse—but then he couldn’t really say no to Rose no matter what she’d asked. Yeah, after thinking about it for more than twelve seconds, maybe he could believe Rose’s request had led directly to his present situation. Luckily he only agreed to go out. He wasn’t obligated to enjoy it.
Regardless, the loud bar was full of way more people than Shane had expected for a Tuesday night. The backs of his calves were sticking to the ugly vinyl with which the bar had chosen to upholster their furniture as he watched the ice in his ginger ale melt and condensation slip from his glass to be absorbed by the napkin underneath. The water rings adorning the wooden surface of the table suggested other people weren’t so considerate, but Shane wasn’t raised in a barn.
At least Rose hadn’t outright asked Shane to dance with her. Apparently just seeing him outside of his apartment, the library, or a classroom was enough to satisfy her for the night, because after she downed her first drink (vodka cran, no ice, please) she smacked a kiss against Shane’s cheek and was on her way to the dance floor.
Small mercies.
It was better that Shane didn’t have to come up with a reason why he didn’t want to dance. The simple truth of ‘not wanting to’ was never enough for Rose, and Shane couldn’t exactly admit to the larger truth of needing to save his energy in case he got a call alerting a rogue vampire in his area. And what if some unsuspecting person on the dance floor got close enough to feel the large knife holstered against his thigh under his bermudas? Then he would have to deal with the bar’s security and maybe the police, and then he would be well and truly fucked if a call came through...
Anyway. Shane was glad he was safely tucked into his booth, nursing his ginger ale. If nothing else, it was easier to people-watch from the outskirts.
He’d been watching one man in particular—for how long, he wasn’t sure—who was wearing black jeans so tight it looked like they had been cut to the precise contours of his legs and a dark grey tank top, cropped to hit just above his belt. A hint of the logo on the waistband of his boxers was visible every time he raised his arms, along with a generous happy trail that disappeared into his pants. Shane found himself distantly wondering what he would find at the end of the trail, but the main event was the way the dramatic lighting of the bar washed over the broad planes of his face. Dark shadows were caught under his pronounced brow bone and the swell of his lower lip, while the red, pink, and blue flashing lights danced over his cheekbones and the- oh, what was that word Rose had taught him once, when he was watching her do her makeup? The bend of the upper lip... his Cupid’s bow!
Shane smiled to himself, satisfied with his stellar recall skills, and took a sip of ginger ale. Wait, was Cupid’s Bow Guy walking toward him? Did he think Shane was smiling at him?
Shane scrunched his lips as he swallowed his drink. Oh well, at least he’d gotten a solid half hour of relative peace before he had to pretend to be a regular functioning member of society.
“You look pretty,” the guy said. He had a hint of an accent to his smooth baritone voice. The vowels seemed to come from deep in his throat, and he hit the t’s in pretty like he would be graded on his diction by Rose’s theater professors.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” Shane replied. He was surprised he got any words out at all, given how much brain power he was using to produce what he hoped was an easy smile as he said them.
“Yes, but I am not pretty,” he argued. “Hot, yes. Irresistible? Absolutely. But you are pretty.”
Shane stopped actively trying to smile, and let a genuine one creep across his features. There was something about this guy that made him instantly feel comfortable. He was rewarded with a smile, so Shane figured it had been the right move.
“I’m Shane,” Shane said, gesturing toward the empty seat across from him.
“Ilya. Your freckles move very... cutely, when you smile, Shane.”
Ilya sat, immediately sprawling one arm out over the table and propping up his head with the other. His fist smooshed his cheek where it pressed into the flesh and his lips pouted a little.
Shane didn’t really know what to say, so he took another sip of his drink, hoping Ilya would provide the conversation between them. He had no such luck. It seemed Ilya was content with getting payback for Shane’s time spent staring at him in silence, only this time Ilya was less than two feet away and Shane was intimately aware of the other’s gaze on him. Well, fuck, Shane was never one to back down from a challenge. He sipped his drink, openly staring back at Ilya, tracking the way his nose scrunched and his eyebrows twitched slightly as the silence wore on.
“You blinked,” Shane said smugly, pointing a finger across the table.
Ilya looked confused at first, but then his face broke out into a smile that gave Shane the impression of watching the first flower of spring come into bloom. His eyes twinkled and his teeth shone in the few strobe lights that reached them at their booth, and the laugh that escaped Ilya’s lips latched onto Shane’s soul and refused to let go.
“So you are pretty and funny, Shane,” Ilya said, his laughter coloring his tone.
“You might be the first person to say either of those things about me,” Shane deflected.
“Ah, I find that hard to believe.” Ilya’s eyes were still twinkling with mirth. He had to look up slightly to meet Shane’s gaze, with the way he was crouching to rest on the palm of his hand, which made his eyes seem even bigger and more expressive. “I am maybe the first to say it, but plenty of people think these things about you, surely.”
“I don’t know...” Shane blushed into his ginger ale as he lifted it to his lips.
“You need to be more confident. People may take advantage of you.”
“Oh, yeah? How so?”
“Well, it does not take much to make you blush. Two compliments and you can barely hold a conversation. Someone might think...” Ilya walked the first two fingers of his free hand across the tabletop to where Shane’s own hand was resting. “You would, eh, fold for the first nobody who came up to you at a bar.”
“I wouldn’t blush for a nobody,” Shane said, feeling the need to defend his honor. “It’s just hard to focus when there’s a supermodel showering you with compliments.”
Ilya’s face lit up like Shane had just handed him a prize.
“This is why you were staring a hole through my head, Shane?” Ilya exaggeratedly waggled his eyebrows. “You like what you see?”
“I do.”
Ilya’s fingers continued their trek, finally making contact with the skin on the back of Shane’s hand.
“You want to see more?”
Shane’s mouth went dry as he nodded. The twin points of Ilya’s fingertips against the back of his hand felt like they were searing into the skin. He didn’t know what he would do with himself if—when—he felt more of Ilya’s touch on his body, but the way Ilya was extracting himself from the booth and holding out a hand for Shane to take indicated he would find out soon.
Shane took Ilya’s hand, then started to panic as Ilya led them in the direction of the dance floor. Luckily the panic didn’t last long, because they dodged the dancers completely, instead heading toward a door painted black with a crooked “emergency exit” sign holding on for dear life. Now, Shane started to panic because surely an emergency exit would sound an alarm to tell the entire establishment that he was going out with a stranger to partake in activities that probably were not safe for work. Ilya must’ve sensed his apprehension (what could’ve given it away? Surely not the way Shane’s palm began to collect sweat at a speed previously unknown to humans, or the way his fingers involuntarily tightened around Ilya’s palm as they approached the door, surely) but he shot a reassuring glance over his shoulder and ran a soothing thumb over Shane’s knuckles before dropping his hand entirely and pushing the door open.
No alarm sounded, and the dim light of the alley was barely brighter than the moody lighting within the bar, so unless someone was expecting it, it was unlikely anyone noticed the door opening. Shane gave Ilya a small smile as they stepped out into the fresh air.
The emergency exit door closed softly behind them, and Ilya immediately took a few small steps into Shane’s personal space until he was forced to stumble backward and his back hit the wall. Ilya’s hand hovered over Shane’s jaw.
“Is okay?” Ilya whispered, as if Shane would get spooked and scramble back inside if he spoke any louder.
“Yes,” Shane replied at the same volume, afraid that he might actually scramble back inside despite the sudden aching desire to know what Ilya’s lips tasted like.
He wasn’t left wondering for long, as Ilya finally made contact with Shane’s jaw and guided him to lean forward until their lips met. It was slow at first as they learned how their mouths moved against each other. Ilya’s hand snuck its way behind his head, blunt nails scratching lightly against his scalp. Shane hummed into the kiss, and Ilya took initiative to open his mouth to allow Shane more room to explore. Shane followed his lead, groaning when Ilya’s tongue pressed between his lips. He chased the sensation with his own tongue, and let go of Ilya’s hand so he could grip at Ilya’s waist. Shane’s palm met the thin strip of Ilya’s bare skin revealed by his cropped tank top, and a delicious shiver ran down Shane’s spine at the feeling. He dug his thumbs into the flesh, and discovered that the soft skin covered hard muscle. Ilya’s hand tightened in Shane’s hair as Shane’s fingers dipped below the waistband of Ilya’s boxers, just low enough to announce their presence.
Shane gasped as Ilya’s other hand squeezed Shane’s ass, and Ilya had the audacity to laugh when he saw how worked up Shane had gotten just from a little making out. As payback, Shane shoved his thigh up between Ilya’s legs, his eyebrows lifted mischievously. Predictably, Ilya groaned when Shane’s leg met his growing erection.
“Two can play at that game,” Shane teased.
“Don’t start things you can’t finish, Shane,” Ilya warned.
Shane used his hands on Ilya’s waist as leverage as he switched their positions, lightning fast. He would have to thank his supervisor for the reflex training later, because the look on Ilya’s face when he’d registered what Shane had done was priceless. His lips were frozen in a perfect o, which quickly grew into a crooked grin as Shane sank to his knees in front of him. Shane hid his grimace at the thought of what he could possibly be kneeling on, being in an alley behind a bar, by nudging his face into Ilya’s crotch.
The opening of his fly scratched across Shane’s cheek and nose while he traced his hands up the backs of Ilya’s thighs, pausing to squeeze his ass before finding their destination. Shane worked at the button of Ilya’s jeans, struggling a bit as his head grew fuzzy in anticipation, but finally got it free. Shane looked up at Ilya through his eyelashes as he dragged the zipper down with his teeth, trying and failing to keep a smirk at bay as he watched Ilya struggle to keep his composure.
Something like a growl escaped Ilya’s throat as his cock was released from the confines of his jeans. His breathing turned shallow, and Shane could feel the tension gathering in Ilya’s abs and thighs the longer Shane teased.
“Shane,” Ilya said, his voice ragged, “if you do not get your mouth on me in the next five seconds I’m going to do something drastic.”
As much as Shane would’ve liked to know what Ilya considered “drastic,” his desire to obey a command won the battle. He shoved Ilya’s jeans out of the way, which was not an easy feat considering how tight the denim was around his plush ass and muscular thighs, and was finally rewarded with a close-up view of Ilya’s cock.
In a word, it was huge. Shane’s mouth watered.
Shane delicately kissed the tip, then licked around the head, getting familiar with Ilya’s taste. He ran his tongue along the underside of his cock, grounding himself with a hand gripping each of Ilya’s thighs.
“I swear to god, Shane,” Ilya grumbled above him. It was all Shane could make out before the syllables jumbled together in a language he couldn’t understand, but Ilya’s tone was enough of an indication that Shane should hurry up before Ilya threatened drastic measures again.
Shane took a steadying breath in through his nose and took Ilya into his mouth. He couldn’t quite fit all the way down to press his nose into Ilya’s happy trail, which was a small disappointment, but Shane worked well with what he could reach. He hollowed his cheeks to apply some suction and was rewarded with a strong hand threading through his hair and holding his head in place. Shane groaned at the pressure and the feeling of giving up control. He felt some drool slip out the corner of his mouth as he relaxed into Ilya’s hold, his neck muscles going soft so Ilya could move his head as he pleased.
Ilya’s other hand joined the first, cradling Shane’s skull reverently. He pulled Shane’s head back, seeming to test the waters, and Shane did his best to nod his approval. Ilya must’ve gotten the message, because he began dragging Shane’s mouth up and down the length of his cock, forcing him to take it further on each stroke. Shane moaned and gagged slightly when he felt the head of Ilya’s cock brushing the back of his throat, pulling some truly devastating sounds from deep in Ilya’s chest.
“I’m gonna, Shane- I’m-” Ilya warned, making to pull Shane off his cock, but Shane furrowed his brow and pushed himself forward.
Shane wrapped his forearms around Ilya’s thighs to hold him in place as he spilled into his mouth. Shane swallowed what he could before his gag reflex took over, forcing him to lean to the side and spit the excess on the pavement. He wiped his lips and chin with the back of his hand.
Ilya took a handful of Shane’s bicep to haul him back up to standing.
“Wow, Shane,” Ilya said breathlessly, and surged forward to slot their lips back together.
Ilya’s hand found its way to the front of Shane’s shorts. Shane gasped into his mouth when Ilya grabbed his sensitive cock through the fabric, quickly losing the wherewithal to continue kissing with any sort of competence, opting instead to rest his forehead on Ilya’s shoulder.
“You’re so close, just from sucking my cock?” Ilya asked. The words seemed like he was teasing, but his tone suggested more awe than malice. “You think I can make you come in your underwear, just with little touches like this?”
Shane whined and rutted into Ilya’s hand as he palmed his cock.
“I- I’d really rather... not have dirty underwear on the train home- Ilya!”
“Oh, but then how would you remember me?” Ilya pouted.
“Trust me, ah! I’ll have a hard time- forgetting- please, Ilya, I need-”
“Okay, okay, kotik, because I am so nice...” Ilya worked to unfasten Shane’s belt and open his fly. “And you sucked my cock so well.”
Shane let out an embarrassingly loud moan when he finally felt Ilya’s hand on his bare cock. The skin of his palm was dry, but Shane had been steadily leaking precome for the better part of ten minutes, so there was plenty of moisture to ease the glide. Shane clung to Ilya’s broad shoulders as he wrung his soul out through his cock. He kissed and moaned against Ilya’s neck, keening at the praise Ilya easily tossed at him, and before long Shane was coming without warning over Ilya’s hand.
“‘m sorry,” Shane mumbled once his orgasm was done and he could stand on his own again.
“Why are you sorry?” Ilya asked, bringing his come-streaked hand up to his mouth so he could do a half-assed job licking it clean. Ilya hummed happily at the taste before wiping the rest on his pants.
“Fucking gross,” Shane said, his nose wrinkling in disgust.
Anything else he could’ve said left his mind when Ilya’s lips were once again on his. It was a much more tender kiss that time, with Shane’s hands resting gingerly over Ilya’s pecs. They separated, and Shane couldn’t help but smile.
“Something to remember you by,” Ilya said, tucking himself back into those godforsaken tight fucking jeans, now emblazoned with streaks of spit and come across the right hip.
Shane rolled his eyes before pulling up his boxers and tidying his own shorts. He buckled his belt and ran his tongue over his front teeth.
“My, uh, my friend is, probably...” Shane said, suddenly reminded of Rose on the dance floor back inside the bar.
“Oh, of course.”
“She’s really just a friend,” Shane clarified. “I’m like, gay, so.”
Ilya smiled.
“Well, I’ll... see you around?” Shane asked, suddenly scared he actually wouldn’t see Ilya again. What if he thought his moans were too loud? What if he thought his come tasted weird? What if-
“I’d like that,” Ilya replied.
Shane grinned. It didn’t take a genius to guess he was blushing, too.
Unsure what else to do, Shane led the way back toward the door. He grabbed the handle and looked back to see Ilya watching him with an unintelligible look in his eye. They walked over the threshold and back into the raucous bar. Rose was right on the edge of the dance floor, so Shane joined her. He was feeling much less stiff than he had an hour earlier, enough to maybe even want to dance a little.
By the time he looked back to try and spot Ilya in the crowd, he was nowhere to be found.
If the sculpted muscle over his entire body was any indication, though, Shane thought Ilya could certainly take care of himself.
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Shane swore and dropped his pencil when the shrieking alarm went off. His phone screen lit up where it was sitting next to him on the desk, alerting him of a rogue vampire, likely freshly turned, less than a mile from campus. He swiped open the notification, silencing the alarm and letting the supervisors know someone was responding to the call, and hastily scribbled a note to leave at his work station.
Be back soon, it said.
Shane grabbed the mini hunting pack from where it was nestled within his larger backpack and clipped it across his chest. Then, he was out of the communal study area, not quite sprinting so he wouldn't attract too much attention, but keeping up a healthy jog in the direction his tracker app indicated. Luckily, there was a train already waiting at the stop on campus when Shane arrived, so he slipped through the doors. Even after three years on the job, Shane found he couldn't sit still on the way to a call, so he stood and focused on steadying his center of gravity as the train gently swayed back and forth down the tracks.
One stop later, Shane departed the train and double checked his tracking app. He followed the red blip, indicating the last place the vampire might've been, and took the stairs down to the street level two at a time before turning and running down a side street. Shane was no longer worried about causing a scene. It was late, almost two in the morning, so very few people were out. Those who were out knew to mind their own business.
As Shane got closer to his destination, he reached back to pull the pack onto his chest. He pulled out a small stake and a switchblade, both easily concealed within his hands. He fidgeted with the blade as he jogged down another street, careful not to cut any fingers, but the cold metal grounded him as his heart raced with adrenaline. That was something he had to work on: calming his nerves and keeping his heartrate steady on a hunt. Vampires, especially freshly turned ones, were extremely sensitive to any and all blood, even if it was still safely confined within a human's veins. Shane continued to recite vampire facts to himself, the familiar monotony easily distracting him from whatever was waiting for him.
Suddenly, Shane heard a rustling sound coming from a nearby alley. It easily could've been a stray cat or other small animal digging for food, but Shane knew immediately that whatever was concealed within the shadows was much larger and deadlier than a stray cat. His fist gripped the stake, the rough wooden texture digging into his palm. He took a steadying breath. Then, he crept into the mouth of the alley. His steps were nearly silent to his human ears, but Shane knew that meant almost nothing when compared to the heightened hearing of his prey.
Shane strained his eyes and ears, glancing around to try and catch sight of anything out of the ordinary. There were the usual cardboard boxes scattered around, old blankets folded haphazardly and piles of cigarette butts next to an overturned trashcan someone must’ve used as a stool. The rustling from earlier had stopped, likely because the vampire knew they were no longer alone. Shane pressed the side of his thumb against his switchblade, and resisted the urge to inhale sharply as his skin split—barely more than a papercut, but enough to draw the attention of the vampire. Shane knew his trainer hated that he used his own blood as bait, but one did not become the youngest, most decorated vampire hunter by playing anything safe.
Shane heard a long, languid intake of breath coming from behind a particularly large box. The scent of blood was intoxicating to a fledgling vampire, and all Shane had to do to record his next confirmed kill was to stay on his guard and wait until his prey struck.
He did not have to wait long, as between one heartbeat and the next, a cold hand was grabbing Shane’s cut thumb in an iron grip. Shane blinked, and his back was against the wall of the alley, a tall and broad figure hunched forward in front of him, pressing their face into Shane’s hand and inhaling deeply. Shane reacted as fast as he could, given the enhanced speed and strength of his opponent, and raised the stake to position it above the creature’s heart. He used the vampire’s distracted state to deftly flip their positions, so his opponent’s back was to the wall. The forearm of Shane’s cut hand pressed into the vampire’s throat, while the tip of the stake pressed against the vampire’s, frankly, voluptuous pec.
Shane’s eyes flicked up to meet the creature’s wild gaze, and Shane startled when he recognized the face in front of him. That strong brow bone, the mole on the cheek, the damned Cupid’s bow...
“Ilya?” Shane asked breathlessly, not even sure if the man, now vampire, in front of him was capable of conscious thought.
Then, without giving his brain permission, Shane was thrust into the memory of just a few nights ago, when the two of them were in a position not dissimilar to this one in an alley outside of a bar. Shane blushed at the thought of how easily he dropped to his knees in front of Ilya, which was the wrong thing to do in front of a starving, newly-turned vampire. Even worse was the rush of blood to Shane’s cock as the memory progressed further, to the taste of Ilya’s come on his tongue and the sting of Ilya’s hands in his hair.
Ilya’s eyes flew wide open, the new unnaturally bright blue of his irises cut from top to bottom by a thin, catlike pupil. His nostrils flared as Shane’s blush deepened and warmth spread through his belly.
A voice that was not Shane’s own echoed through his thoughts.
Hungryhungryhungryhungrysofuckinghungrysmellssofuckinggood
Shane’s gaze had slipped to the wall behind Ilya’s head as the frenzied monologue pressed into his brain. Shane shook it off and immediately met Ilya’s eyes again. This time, the vampire’s entire sclera was an inky black. Thin black veins spiderwebbed out from Ilya’s eyes.
Sofuckinghungryhungryhungryhungrystarvingstarvinghungry
Every muscle in Shane’s body locked tight under the intense stare. Despite the icy fear running through his veins, (or perhaps his arousal was heightened by the fear) Shane could feel himself growing harder with every precious passing second.
Two tiny pinpricks of light reflected in Ilya’s eyes as he tipped his head back slightly to bare his fangs. Shane tried to force his arm forward to drive the stake home, but he couldn’t move. Ilya’s fangs glinted in the dim light of the alley.
Ilya lunged.
Shane stayed still, muscles tense with fear or arousal or some kind of vampiric magic as unforgiving as the brick wall at Ilya’s back. Ilya’s movement pressed the tip of Shane’s stake further into the flesh of his pec, ripping the fabric of his shirt, and the vampire howled and seethed with pain as the ashwood broke skin. Shane tore his eyes away from Ilya’s face, and his limbs were once again his own to move. He easily fell into a fighting stance, trusting his training to help him take down a faster and stronger opponent.
Except... as Shane landed the first blow to the flesh below Ilya’s ribcage, a wild part of Shane questioned if he even wanted to take Ilya down. He’d never let his emotions come between himself and a kill before, but he’d also never really had an emotional (or physical) connection to his target. Shane shifted his weight to his back foot, expecting Ilya to lunge again, and met the uncoordinated attack with a slash of his knife. Ilya hissed at the pain, and Shane was reminded of the quiet sounds Ilya had made when Shane ran his tongue down the underside of his cock. Shane’s own erection was starting to cause problems, sending a jolt up his spine when he followed through with a punch, using his grip on the knife’s handle to drive his knuckles into Ilya’s jaw. Ilya’s eyebrows twitched as Shane’s fist connected, his nostrils flaring again as the miniscule cut on Shane’s thumb was mere centimeters from his lips.
Ilya’s hand shot up with inhuman speed to grasp Shane’s hand, the grip excruciatingly strong. Shane’s knuckles popped and he was forced to drop the switchblade and it clattered to the ground. Ilya relaxed his grip, bringing Shane’s hand up to his nose. Ilya’s eyes slipped closed as he smelled Shane’s hand, and Shane could almost believe this was just another normal hookup in an alley, the black veins around Ilya’s eyes nothing more than some makeup done for a night out. His breath against Shane’s skin was warm, not nearly as warm as it had been when he was a human, but definitely a contrast to the frigid temperature of Ilya’s fingers. Ilya inhaled deeply through his nose, pressing his tongue to the pulse point in Shane’s wrist. His eyes cracked open, revealing twin voids, and the only hint that he was looking at Shane’s face was the way his eyelids lifted. Shane felt the moment they made direct eye contact, though, as a bolt of white-hot pleasure-fear shot through his ribcage and down his abdomen until it settled in the head of his cock.
Shane was sure he would curse his emotions later, and the connection he’d felt with Ilya after just one conversation and mutually beneficial orgasm, but he found himself pitying the vampire.
Hungry... so hungry... just a taste...
And, there was still the voice rattling around in his skull, less frenzied than it had been moments ago. Shane found himself nodding, whispering a yes into the air between them.
Shane sucked in a breath as Ilya’s fangs sank into the flesh on the side of his palm, just below his pinky. The pain was immediately replaced with pleasure when the venom in Ilya’s bite took hold. They both sighed at the contact; Ilya through his nose as he pulled the first few drops of Shane’s blood from the wounds, while Shane’s was more like a whine as his fear turned honey-sweet on the back of his tongue. Shane watched as the veins scattered over Ilya’s face receded as he fed, once again blending with the pale skin of his cheekbones.
“Ilya...” Shane whimpered, his knees going weak under him as Ilya swallowed.
Ilya looked up at Shane through his eyelashes at the mention of his name. Shane was pleased; not only were the whites of Ilya’s eyes visible again, but he seemed lucid enough to actually listen and absorb Shane’s next words. Shane didn’t really want to think about the fresh shiver of desire that ran down his spine when Ilya looked at him with his mouth full of blood.
One crisis at a time.
“Ilya, we should...” Shane found that it was hard to form words, fighting against the venom as it worked through his system. “Should get... inside.”
“Where,” Ilya said, more like a statement than a question. He immediately latched back onto Shane’s hand to take another pull.
Shane’s knees buckled for real this time, the blood loss finally catching up to him. Before he could even stumble, though, a strong arm had snaked around his back to hold him in place.
“Do you live nearby?” Shane asked.
Ilya stiffened and removed his fangs from Shane’s hand. Shane pulled against Ilya’s grip on his wrist, and after surprisingly little resistance Shane was allowed to shove his injured hand into his pocket.
“Roommate,” was Ilya’s reply. Despite regaining lucidity, it was clear that English was difficult at the moment—which, Shane thought, was completely understandable.
Ilya’s tongue darted out to lick the drop of blood that clung to his lower lip, seemingly unaware of the rivulets that ran from the corners of his mouth and down his chin.
“Fuck,” Shane cursed under his breath. Shane’s thoughts were already nearly back to full clarity, but he still surprised himself with how quickly he said, “let’s go to my place.”
Shane decided he would rather deal with the consequences of smuggling a vampire into his apartment than having to tell his hunters’ guild that the fledgling was still on the loose and admit he’d failed the hunt. He wiggled to free himself from Ilya’s arm like iron around his waist. The knife and stake were returned neatly to their place in his hunting pack, and Shane took out a rag to offer Ilya. The vampire seemed confused, and Shane didn’t feel like wasting any more time, so Shane rolled his eyes and wiped Ilya’s face for him.
Shane could feel Ilya’s jaw go slack under the towel as he worked, and his eyes slipped closed as Shane moved from his chin down to his neck. Ilya pouted when Shane pulled away, but seemed appeased when Shane grabbed his hand to lead him out of the alley.
“Please try to be normal on the train,” Shane said. “Do you still feel the... urge?”
He glanced over his shoulder to look at Ilya as he trailed after him. His face was pale, but that was easily blamed on the dim light in the dead of night. Ilya’s eyes seemed clearer than they had been moments prior; though the pupils were still elongated, they were wider, taking up more space within the iris. Dimly, Shane wondered if they reacted to hunger rather than light. He felt a shiver run down his spine at the thought. Maybe hiding a rogue baby vampire in his apartment wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Shane was almost giddy with the research opportunities that had just presented themselves. So many questions about vampires that had never been answered before...
“I will be fine,” Ilya replied. “At least until we get inside. Mostly just tired, now.”
“Good, okay,” Shane said, distracted by his train of thought. “Luckily it’s late, there aren’t many people out anyway. Just... squeeze my hand if you start to feel... bad.”
Ilya grinned, the expression familiar from their first meeting at the bar—despite his new, more vampiric features. Shane once again found himself smiling back.