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Felix didn’t know what to do. Sylvain was dying and it was all his fault.
“I’ll be fine!”
“No, you won’t!” Felix wailed as he knelt beside Sylvain, his hands gripping tightly onto Sylvain’s shirt. He shouldn’t have told Sylvain about the cat that was stuck in the tree — he should’ve waited to tell Glenn instead, he was almost a knight, he could have rescued it without falling and Sylvain wouldn’t be —
“Oh, don’t cry, Felix,” Sylvain tried to say over the sound of Felix’s bawling. “It’s — look, it’s already healed!”
Felix hiccupped as Sylvain wiped his tears away with his sleeve. He looked down at Sylvain’s shin, tears welling up anew at the sight of all the blood, but when he looked closer, it was true; the jagged gash Sylvain had gotten from falling onto a sharp rock was gone. Sylvain wiggled his leg around for good measure. “I told you, didn’t I?” Sylvain laughed. “I’m a vampire so I can heal really fast.”
At age 7, Felix didn’t really know what being a vampire meant, even though his father had tried to explain it to him before. Sniffling, he reached out to touch Sylvain’s leg, to make sure Sylvain wasn’t lying to him. He poked and prodded until he was certain it wasn’t some kind of trick. Sylvain giggled, twitching away.
“See? You don’t need to worry about me.”
Felix rubbed away the rest of his tears. “It doesn’t hurt?”
Sylvain smiled, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “It’s okay,” he assured him. “And look,” he held up the cat that he had carefully tucked against him. The cat blinked at them, uncaring of the great drama that had just occurred. “I saved the cat too. So don’t cry anymore, okay?”
Felix took the cat from Sylvain, feeling better as he petted its soft fur. He helped pat off the dirt on Sylvain's clothes, though he was still a little upset. “You’re stupid, Sylvain,” he determined, standing and shooting him a swollen-eyed glare. The cat yowled in agreement.
Sylvain pouted. “Hey! That’s not a very nice thing to say to someone who just helped you!”
Felix huffed. “Stupid!” He repeated before he dashed off to find someone to help clean up the blood. He wondered if he could find Glenn too. He could come and teach Sylvain how to climb a tree without getting hurt.
-
“Worry about yourself for once!” Felix snapped after he cut down the last bandit, whipping around to look to Sylvain.
Sylvain didn’t answer immediately, busy tugging his lance out of a corpse. Felix fumed, flicking blood off his sword before he sheathed it. Sylvain could survive most things short of a beheading, but it didn’t mean Felix liked to see him put himself in danger. Recent battles have had them outnumbered five to one; while Felix preferred to be efficient about dispatching his enemies, Sylvain seemed fine with being a human-looking shield and striking down his foes while they wondered why they couldn’t kill him no matter how many times they wounded him.
Felix advanced on him. “You’re always so —”
He fell silent when Sylvain turned toward him. Even with just the moonlight illuminating them, Felix could see the pain on Sylvain’s sweat-sheened face, his hand clutching his side, dark with blood. He had gotten stabbed when he pulled Felix out of the way of an arrow during the fight. Felix stared at the wound for another moment, his mouth bitter with fear. “Why aren’t you healing?”
Sylvain offered him a shaky grin. “Just need another minute,” he said unconvincingly.
In the distance, Felix could still hear fighting. They weren’t close enough to the others to call for help. They needed to get out of the open; the last thing they needed right now was to be ambushed. Slinging Sylvain’s arm over his shoulder, Felix dragged Sylvain toward the treeline, hiding them deep in the forest before leaning him back against a tree.
“You haven’t been feeding,” Felix realized as he caught his breath.
Sylvain let out a weak chuckle. “It’s been a while,” he admitted faintly.
Felix swore under his breath. With everything that had been happening lately, they’ve hardly had time to rest between the missions, their classes and training. Sylvain must not have had the chance to feed.
“Stop that,” Felix hissed when Sylvain poked gingerly at the wound. “You’ll make it worse.”
“I think we’re well past that point,” Sylvain said, still apparently well enough to joke. Felix would kill him himself if Sylvain really was dying. Luckily, Sylvain didn’t need vulneraries or healing spells. He just needed blood.
“Hurry up and drink from me,” Felix said, already shedding his vest.
“I can’t,” Sylvain replied immediately, which Felix knew was patently untrue.
Felix threw his vest to the ground. “I’m right here. And you’re dying.”
Sylvain shrugged a shoulder, as if to concede the point. “You’re supposed to be,” he breathed heavily, “His Highness’s.”
Felix rolled his eyes. What were they, wolves in a pack? “I’ve already told the boar he can have my blood if I end up dead in a pool of it,” Felix said darkly. His family may have served as feeders for the royal family for generations, but Felix had made it clear to Dimitri that he had no intention to ever give him his blood — not since the day Felix saw him for the beast he truly was. As much as he didn’t deserve it, Dimitri would have plenty of people offering their blood to him. If the choice was left to him, Felix would rather let him starve.
“But you’ll give it to me?”
Sylvain was looking right at him. Felix didn’t think twice as he answered, “I’ll give it to you.”
Sylvain held his gaze for another moment before he shook his head like he was coming out of a stupor. Felix knew Sylvain was trying to control himself, control his hunger. “I can’t,” he said again, pained. “I could end up killing you.”
“You can take just enough to heal.”
“I can’t risk it.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Sylvain didn’t look at him as he clenched his teeth, glancing toward the field. “Maybe we can go back and see if any of those bandits have any blood left.”
Anger rising, Felix couldn’t understand why Sylvain was being so stubborn. He knew feeding wasn’t something to be taken lightly, but this was a matter of life and death. Judging by the severity of the wound, Sylvain would probably need more blood than a regular feeding; the longer Sylvain waited, the more he would need. Felix might end up passing out, but even then, that was a better alternative to letting Sylvain die.
Sylvain slumped back against the tree, his breathing turning shallow and uneven. Felix felt his heartbeat racing. He wasn’t going to leave Sylvain to try and drag a half-dead bandit back for Sylvain to feed on and he definitely wasn’t going to let whatever twisted idea of chivalry or honor or whatever Sylvain had in his head kill him. Not if Felix could help it.
Out of time and energy to argue, Felix drew his dagger. Before Sylvain could ask what he was doing, Felix yanked up a sleeve, closed his hand into a fist, and ran the blade across his wrist, biting back a pained grunt. Blood poured from the cut, running down his palm as he opened his hand, dripping in between his fingers and onto the ground before Felix tried to keep it contained in his cupped hand. Sylvain’s eyes widened with shock, his hand darting out to cradle Felix’s wrist.
“Where are your vulneraries —” Sylvain asked, panic rising in his voice.
“I don’t have any left. And you’re the one with the healing spells,” Felix answered, grimacing. He had cut deep, deep enough that trying to bind it would probably do little to help. Growing lightheaded, he dropped to his knees, Sylvain stumbling forward to catch him, holding him upright with a hand on his shoulder. Sylvain looked like he was in even more pain. Felix didn’t want him to be.
Felix shakily lifted his other hand to the back of Sylvain’s head; Sylvain’s neck was damp with cold sweat. “I’m not looking to die today,” Felix grunted. “So if you won’t do it to save yourself, do it to save me.”
Their heavy breaths filled the silence. Felix really didn’t intend to die, but if Sylvain hesitated any longer, they both would. He supposed it would be an appropriate end, a fulfillment of their promise, dying in such an idiotic way together like this.
To his relief, Sylvain finally gave in, swearing before bowing his head to drink from the blood pooling in the heart of Felix’s palm. Drawing back after two full swallows, he mumbled inaudibly — Felix felt the pain fade, the cut sealing. Felix closed his eyes as Sylvain drank the rest of the blood, Sylvain’s tongue running across his palm, carefully licking him clean. He felt Sylvain’s lips brush against the healed skin over his wrist before he pulled away.
Felix opened his eyes with a shaky breath, trying to keep himself steady as he met Sylvain’s gaze. He had never seen Sylvain like this — his blood was smeared around Sylvain’s mouth, dark against his moonlit skin, against the bright golden glow of his eyes. His gaze flitted to Sylvain’s wound; past the tear in his clothes, Felix could see the flesh slowly knitting together. The rush of relief pushed him right over the edge of exhaustion; Felix fell forward, the sound of Sylvain calling his name distant as Sylvain braced against him, holding him close as Felix lost consciousness.
-
There was a reason vampires were considered to be monsters. Feeding on blood was essential to their survival, but they could easily become addicted to it. The first vampires used to feed on whoever they could find, caring only for their hunger and the satisfaction that came from feeding, often at the expense of a person’s life. These days, the families made sure to control their affliction as well as they could, making sure to provide blood for their children until they could find a regular feeder, either on their own or from a feeder family.
“I presume you’ve been able to feed in the past few days,” Felix said as he sharpened his sword in his room.
Sylvain looked at him from Felix’s bed, where he had made himself comfortable as he hid from yet another spurned lover. “I’ve been doing fine with the blood you gave me,” Sylvain told him.
Felix glanced up. It had been almost a month since that night. They didn’t talk about it much afterward, when Felix woke up in the infirmary back at Garreg Mach, Sylvain dozing off in a chair beside his cot. Sylvain had thanked him and Felix nodded and that was that. Felix didn’t think he needed to check up on Sylvain. “How often are you supposed to be feeding?”
Sylvain shrugged. “I get some blood from the infirmary once a month, but I’m used to going on a little longer since Manuela doesn’t always have extra blood stored on hand.”
Felix was taken aback. He had never thought much about Sylvain’s feeding habits before; he had always assumed that Sylvain, like Dimitri, had ready access to blood, given the harem of women he kept around. “You don’t feed from anyone?”
Sylvain smiled knowingly. “I don’t feed from the people I sleep with, if that’s what you were wondering. You know what they say about playing with your food.”
“How principled of you,” Felix said dryly.
Sylvain sat up and leaned back against the wall, facing him. “Well, I can’t have every person I slept with walking around with a bite mark. Word of mouth gets me in enough trouble already. Do you want me living in your room indefinitely?”
Felix rolled his eyes and resumed his sharpening. “Just pick one then,” he said. “You need a more reliable source of blood, especially these days.”
“So many beautiful women around,” Sylvain lamented. “How could I just pick one?”
Felix snorted as he checked the edge of his blade. “You mean you cheat so often you can’t keep anyone around.”
“It’s not my fault I fall in love every day,” Sylvain sighed. Felix resisted the urge to throw something at him, slotting his sword back into its sheath and setting it aside, sitting back in his chair.
“Is this why you slack off so much in training? Because you’re not feeding properly?” Felix asked. If Sylvain was constantly feeling weak, it would explain his apparent laziness — though he seemed to dodge the items women often threw at him perfectly well.
Sylvain canted his head, smiling. “Felix, I don’t mean to jump to conclusions, but it sounds like you’re concerned for me. I’m touched.”
Felix glared at him. “Hmph. Don’t think so highly of yourself. The last thing I need is you almost dying again because you can’t do something as simple as feed yourself.”
Sylvain laughed, waving a hand. “Ah, I’m used to it now.”
Felix crossed his arms, frowning. He would have thought there would be sources provided for Sylvain when he came to Garreg Mach, unless Sylvain’s father just made the same assumptions as he did. “It’s dangerous to go on for so long without feeding, isn’t it? You say you’re used to it, but how do you know for sure?”
“I don’t,” Sylvain answered simply. “But I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
Felix had always thought Sylvain lacked self-control, but it turned out Sylvain had a stronger will than he thought, even stronger than the boar, who carelessly gave into his bloodlust even when he kept himself fed. All this time, Sylvain was a starving predator living among prey. It would be admirable, if it wasn’t incredibly reckless.
“I can be your feeder.”
Sylvain glanced at him, clearly not taking him seriously. “I thought you didn’t want to be one.”
"This is about you needing one." Felix would admit that the idea of being stuck with someone to give blood wasn’t appealing, but this was Sylvain. It's not like he wasn't going to be stuck with him anyway. “I’ve said it before — you never consider how your actions hurt others. You think you’re protecting the people around you by doing this, but you’re just putting them at an even greater risk.”
He felt a pang of guilt at the flash of hurt on Sylvain’s face, but Sylvain needed to hear the truth. Felix understood the desire to bear things alone, but what Sylvain was doing was a pointless exercise in suffering.
“You think it would be easy being a feeder for me?” Sylvain asked with a sardonic laugh. “You think Dimitri’s bad — you think I’ll be any better? You’ve called me insatiable before. How do you know I won’t bleed you dry?”
He said it all with a smile, but without a trace of humor. It might’ve been threatening if it wasn’t coming from Sylvain, who Felix had known almost his entire life. “I trust you,” Felix answered and it felt truer as he said it aloud.
Sylvain let out a noise that sounded almost like a scoff. “You shouldn’t.”
Felix could almost laugh. This, coming from someone who nearly chose to die rather than take his blood. “You’ve never given me any reason not to.”
Sylvain fell silent, as if that of all things would get Felix to drop the subject.
“If you need a reason, consider it a favor for saving my life,” Felix said.
Sylvain still didn’t look at him. “I saved you because you saved me. No need to upset that balance.”
“You saved me twice that night,” Felix corrected. “So I still owe you. That’s how that works for you, right?” Sylvain looked at him. “You like to keep things even.”
“Sly,” Sylvain commented. “But this is quite the favor you’re granting me.”
The semblance of concern Felix held gave way to annoyance. “If you really don’t want to, I’ll stop pushing it,” Felix said, feeling strangely rejected. “But I —” he stopped, huffed. He didn't want to see Sylvain in pain again. Not that he would tell Sylvain that. He started again. “I’d never forgive you if you died for such a stupid reason. If there was something I could have done.”
Felix waited, knowing Sylvain would eventually cave under the weight of guilt. Sure enough, Sylvain sighed.
“There’s a reason we don’t just pick anyone to become a feeder. It’ll get harder for me to stop once it starts,” Sylvain said quietly, significantly. “If you’re really worried about me losing control, this will have to be for the long run.”
Felix nodded, understanding. “I don’t plan on going anywhere.”
Sylvain quirked a smile. “I suppose not.”
Silence fell over them again. Felix stood abruptly. “So how do you want to do this?”
Sylvain blinked dumbly at him. “Oh, you want — you want to do this right now?”
Felix tried to think. Maybe there was some weird vampire custom he had forgotten about. “Is there something we need to do first?” He asked flatly.
“Well, not really, no, but —“
Felix shot him a look. “I’m free right now." He gestured at Sylvain, lounging on his bed. "You clearly have nowhere else to be.”
After a second, Sylvain quickly got to his feet, looking around the small room. He seemed to be at a loss of what to do. “Uh.” Felix watched him fluster until Sylvain finally just sat back down on the bed. He scooted back so there was room between his legs. “Here. It’ll be more comfortable if you’re sitting,” Sylvain explained quickly. He scratched his neck, glancing back at the rest of the bed. “Unless you want to lie down —”
Without a word, Felix sat carefully on the edge of the bed bracketed by Sylvain’s legs.
“The bite will hurt a little at first,” Sylvain told him as Felix took off his vest. “You’ll feel tired after the feeding.”
“I know.” Though he’d never done it before, he still remembered some of the basics of feeding. Felix started unbuttoning his shirt, just enough so that he could push it down one shoulder, exposing his neck.
“It’s a little different feeding directly like this. It’ll feel — good.” Sylvain shifted a little behind him. “It won’t hurt.” Felix vaguely remembered something about that; there had to be something that made people relax through being bitten and fed on. “It might feel different for everyone. Just remember that the things that happen during a feeding are just your body reacting to the bite.” Sylvain’s hands settled on his hips. “If you want me to stop, tell me.” He paused. “If I don’t listen —”
Felix tilted his head. “You will.”
A moment passed before Felix felt a soft breath against his neck. “I’m going to start.”
Sylvain sounded nervous. Felix sighed noisily, anxious. “Just hurry up and —”
His voice caught in his throat as Sylvain sank his fangs into his neck. It was like Sylvain said — the pain was brief, the sting melting into a pleasant numbness as he slowly became lightheaded. It should’ve been alarming, how quickly his energy began to leave him, but he felt strangely calm. His body swayed; Sylvain’s hands wrapped around his waist and Felix sagged back against him. He wasn’t used to being held but even more foreign was the feeling of Sylvain’s mouth, sucking his skin softly as he drank from him. Felix felt tired, cold but oddly warm too. He sighed as a shiver went through his body; without thinking, he put his hand on Sylvain’s forearm, his skin buzzing from the contact, but then Sylvain pulled back, his hands back on his hips as he released his neck, his tongue quickly swiping over where he had bitten.
“Are you okay?” Sylvain asked. He sounded breathless, his voice husky.
“Yes,” Felix breathed, slow and steady, his heart pounding.
“How do you feel?”
Felix felt the way he did after a good spar, fatigued but without all of the sweat and bruises. He tried to move his limbs, taking stock of his body, tensing the moment he did. He realized he may have misinterpreted what Sylvain meant when he said the bite would feel good. “Fine,” Felix mumbled, his face burning with embarrassment. “Just tired.”
If Sylvain noticed that he was hard, he didn’t mention it. "We’ll plan it better next time,” Sylvain told him. “I’ll bring food and water too. It’ll help you recover faster.”
Sylvain didn’t let go of him, which was for the best because Felix felt as though he was going to fall facedown on the floor if he did. “Okay,” was all Felix said, letting Sylvain pull him back to settle against his chest.
-
Felix fed Sylvain once every two weeks, letting him know when to go to his room after dinner. He didn’t immediately notice the change in Sylvain; Sylvain still slacked off when it came to training, but he struck harder, moved faster in battle. Felix thought it was a fair trade-off, a little exhaustion for a more effective comrade.
The thing about knowing someone for so long was that sometimes things went unmentioned. There was no need to discuss everything that happened, no need to dissect every action. There would be a time and place to talk about whatever needed to be talked about, or there wouldn’t. That was how friendships worked; at least, that was how theirs worked.
They didn’t talk about it — the way Sylvain’s hands would wander, sometimes down his thighs, sometimes up his chest, the noises that would fall from Felix’s lips when he felt Sylvain hard against his back. Felix kept Sylvain’s words in mind — these were just things that happened during feeding. It wasn’t like it was particularly uncomfortable. Felix never knew how it felt to touch someone when he wasn’t in a fight, how it felt to have hands on him for longer than a few moments. He never felt the desire to be touched before, but it felt nice when Sylvain did it. He didn’t dislike it, the shivering warmth that came from having a body wrapped around him. It helped that Sylvain tried to keep him comfortable afterward too.
“This is too sweet,” Felix complained.
Sylvain stopped mid-sentence, his chest brushing against Felix's back as he reached over to the bedside table to grab another tangerine. “You know, finding sour ones is harder than you think.”
Felix chewed slowly as he watched Sylvain peel it over his lap. Felix had told Sylvain he didn’t have to stay after he fed, but Sylvain told him he didn't mind, serving as a large person-shaped pillow until Felix felt well enough to stand on his own. Sylvain usually took this time to let Felix eat the food he brought and subject him to his latest personal drama, though Felix didn’t know why since he wasn’t a particularly supportive confidante.
“So what happened after that?” Felix asked, trading tangerines with Sylvain before letting him continue with his story.
“Oh.” Sylvain thought for a second as he ate the half-eaten tangerine. “Oh! Well — when I was chatting with another girl, she just came up to me and slapped me!”
A moment or two passed. Felix ate a piece of his new tangerine; it was tart, the way he liked it. Sylvain didn’t continue. “Is that it?”
“I had been hoping for more of a reaction,” Sylvain muttered dejectedly.
“Hard to react to an anticlimactic ending.”
Sylvain sighed; Felix felt it against his hair. “You’re supposed to comfort me.”
“But you deserved it,” Felix pointed out, as he often did when Sylvain shared these stories with him.
Sylvain sighed again. “Ah, well, it’s not like it was serious,” he said. “Never is. It’s for the best anyway. You know, you’d think it'd be the vampire part of me that people would be scared of. Turns out it’s the human part of me that can’t keep them around.”
Finishing his tangerine, Felix blinked. “What do you mean?”
Sylvain tensed and fell oddly silent. "She uh, may have also been mad because I said no when she asked me to feed on her."
Felix felt his cheeks burn. This was, perhaps, too close to one of those things they didn’t talk about. “Ah.”
Sylvain shifted, adjusting him in his arms. “I mean — it’s not —” He cleared his throat. “It happens a lot. But they’re not really offering to feed me. They just hear about the bite and how it feels. They think it’ll be fun for a night or two."
"But you don't do it."
"I did, in the beginning," Sylvain admitted with a short laugh. Felix ignored the weird lurch in his chest. "But I wised up pretty fast and stopped. Every now and then I get dumped because I say no."
Sylvain’s hands moved restlessly in front of him. Felix hated the tinge of sadness in Sylvain's voice. Even back when Felix thought Sylvain was just a skirt chaser, he still considered him a friend. Sylvain was infuriating at times, but he was kind and caring, a good person underneath his recklessness. Didn’t people know? “You’ll find someone," Felix tried to say comfortingly.
Sylvain laughed again. “Now you decide to say something nice to me.” He let out a dramatic sigh. “Maybe I just need to change my image. Girls probably love a brooding vampire.”
Felix knew it still bothered Sylvain, but he didn’t know what to say. He stilled Sylvain’s hands with his own, holding them against his stomach. Felix closed his eyes, slowly drifting to sleep under the soothing weight. Even when his hands fell away, Sylvain’s hands stayed.
Nothing changed between them. Sylvain still slept around, though he knew not to when it was close to a feeding day, as he had learned the hard way when Felix wrinkled his nose at the smell of perfume on Sylvain’s clothes and immediately kicked him out of his room, not letting him back in until he bathed. They didn’t talk about it, didn’t need to. Felix was just helping Sylvain curb one kind of hunger, to keep him alive. Nothing else.
-
“So are the stories true?” Bernadetta asked Felix as they sat in the library.
Felix glanced at Bernadetta over his book. “What stories?”
“You know, like,” she stuck out two fingers in front of her mouth and pointed at his neck. “The vampire stories.”
Bernadetta had caught on fairly quickly when Felix started feeding Sylvain; she had a sharp eye and spotted the faint bite mark on his neck, staring until Felix got tired of it. He didn’t mind telling her — House Varley was a feeder family like his own. Telling her seemed to make her relax more around him too.
“Vampire stories,” he echoed flatly. He never thought to look for books about vampires, to learn more about them. He already knew Sylvain. “There are vampire stories?”
“You didn’t know?” Bernadetta asked, like it was ridiculous that he didn’t. “Most people just hear rumors about vampires, so they’ve written stories about what they think they’re like.”
He wondered if those girls Sylvain told him about had read these vampire stories. He supposed he understood the intrigue. The bloodlines were recorded for anyone to see for public safety, but not many outsiders knew the specifics of what being a vampire meant if they didn't know one. Even Felix wasn’t exactly clear about everything Sylvain could do. “I’ve never read one.”
Bernadetta’s eyes lit up as she put her book down. Felix eyed it suspiciously, squinting at the title; was she reading a vampire story right now? “Does Sylvain hate garlic?”
“Not particularly.”
“Does he avoid the church?”
“He was singing hymns just this morning.”
“What about daylight?”
“Sometimes,” Felix answered. He had asked Sylvain this himself when they were younger, when he noticed that Sylvain kept himself and Dimitri in the shade when Felix and Ingrid played; Sylvain liked being in the sun, but it made him feel tired.
Bernadetta oohed. “How about vampire magic? Can he do things like enthrall people, make them do his bidding?”
Felix had to think about that for a few moments. If Sylvain could do that, it would certainly explain how he could charm so many women. Then again, if that were the case, he probably wouldn't be so easily bullied into training by him and Ingrid all the time. “I doubt it.”
“Then does he kidnap you at night and drink your blood and,” her voice dropped to a whisper as her eyes widened, “do things?”
He flushed, thinking about their feedings, Sylvain’s wandering hands, the way his lips lingered against his neck. “What kind of stories are you reading?” He said hotly.
“Oh! Well — Dorothea’s been bringing me some books she likes to read!” Bernadetta was vibrating with excitement. “They aren’t very well-written, but they’re very,” she poked her index fingers together, pursing her lips, “interesting.”
Felix felt a headache coming on. He had an inkling of what kind of literature Dorothea was showing Bernadetta; Bernadetta’s lively imagination probably wasn’t helping matters either. “It’s not like that.”
“Oh.” She seemed disappointed. “Then isn’t it all just scary?”
Bernadetta had mentioned it before, the things she was put through to become the perfect wife and feeder, to become as submissive as possible, turning her into the recluse she was when Felix first met her. With her own father subjecting her to such torture, it was no surprise Bernadetta was terrified of vampires. Even Sylvain, harmless as he was, could only talk to Bernadetta through letters.
“It doesn’t have to be if you trust them,” Felix said, knowing it was a weak assurance.
Bernadetta shivered. “I just can’t see myself doing what you do,” she muttered. “How can I trust someone who just wants me for my blood?”
Felix thought of Sylvain, that night he almost died. “Not every vampire will be like that,” Felix said quietly.
“You and Sylvain are different,” Bernadetta sighed, as if that explained everything, and Felix didn’t know what to say to that.
-
They were all different. Dimitri had admitted, when Felix finally bit back his pride to ask him, that his bloodlust was exacerbated by his hunger, but it wasn’t a symptom of his affliction — it was a part of who he was as a person. He was different from Annette, was different from Sylvain; they all shared the same hunger for blood, but it didn’t make them the same as each other, didn’t make them deviate from who they were.
“Feeding doesn’t turn us into someone else,” Dimitri had told him. “It intensifies what’s already there.”
Sylvain had warned him that the instinct to feed could be set off by any number of things; with Sylvain feeding more often, it would become harder for him to resist. There were times when Sylvain wanted to feed after being wounded, even though he was already healing, times when just the smell of blood was enough. A lot of the time, Felix didn’t know what it was that made Sylvain hungry, like this time, when they were just in the training hall with their classmates when Sylvain suddenly started tugging him away.
The stone wall was cold against Felix’s back. His vest was ripped down the middle and his shirt hung off half of his body, a few of the buttons torn off and scattered on the ground. It happened like this sometimes, when they couldn’t make it to the room in time; at least Sylvain had the presence of mind to hold off until he could get them somewhere relatively private, like this alcove in the gardens, before he fed. Sylvain probably knew of all kinds of places like these around Garreg Mach, no doubt for his trysts.
Felix could see their breaths in the cold night air, white wisps mingling before they faded. Sylvain’s hand, which had been fisted in Felix’s hair when he fed, now rested against his neck, his thumb absently stroking his cheek. After Sylvain finally calmed down, he lifted his head to meet Felix’s gaze. “I’m sor —”
“What did I tell you about apologizing?” Felix said lowly, annoyed.
Sylvain’s brown eyes searched his face. Felix looked back at him, his gaze as unflinching as it was when Sylvain looked at him when his eyes were glowing gold. Sylvain looked away again.
“I hate it,” Sylvain admitted. “Being a vampire.”
Felix watched him carefully. “Why?” He asked. He always thought of it in terms of advantages — having enhanced senses, being stronger. Though he’d never tell him, he was sometimes grateful Sylvain was a vampire; it kept him alive through things most humans couldn’t survive.
“I hate needing blood." His eyes flitted to the bite mark on Felix’s neck. Sylvain’s arm loosened around his waist; Felix held Sylvain tighter before Sylvain could pull away, mostly because he couldn’t stand without him.
“Everyone needs things,” Felix said quietly.
“It’s not the same,” Sylvain said sharply. He sighed, frustrated. “When I want — when I’m hungry, it doesn’t just make me want blood. It makes me think that all of the things I want are things I need. It hurts to not have them.”
Felix didn’t understand. “Isn’t that how it always feels to want something?”
Sylvain met his gaze. Felix looked back, uncertain, still not understanding when Sylvain laughed softly, his head dropping to Felix’s shoulder. “Is it?” Sylvain asked him, his voice quiet.
Felix didn’t know. Sylvain kept holding him, his body keeping him warm, so Felix leaned his head against Sylvain’s, Sylvain’s hair soft against his cheek. He thought about what Dimitri said. They didn’t talk about it.
-
There were feeders who stayed with the ones they served, but there were feeders who had their own families, seeing feeding for what it was: a duty. It would be an easy excuse to simply call it that, to say that was the reason he did it, but Felix couldn’t lie to himself. He didn’t do things out of duty.
Felix didn’t know when it started, when he started looking forward to feedings. He tried to remind himself it was just the feeling caused by the bite, like Sylvain had said, but he thought about what Dimitri had told him — something had to exist to be amplified. Felix wanted to be touched, wanted more than that, still wanted it long after feedings. He thought it was something like muscle memory; like the way his hands knew how to hold and swing a sword, his body had become used to fitting against Sylvain’s. Maybe it was the proximity — being with Sylvain in his room for hours, listening to him talk, sharing their quiet confessions — that made Felix miss him. Felix liked to be alone, but it didn’t mean he never felt lonely. Being with Sylvain was by no means calming but it chased off the loneliness, having someone who could tell what he was thinking just by the look on his face, who understood his silences, what he meant when he didn’t know how to be honest. The more he saw Sylvain’s fake smile, his hand on a different hip every other day, the more he wondered if Sylvain just felt lonely too.
He found himself thinking about Sylvain all the time, like it was his blood running through his veins, thinking about what Sylvain was doing; if Sylvain wasn’t with him, was he with someone else, a stranger who felt his roaming hands too? Did Sylvain take care of them the way he took care of Felix? Did he take them to those places hidden from the world and hold them, need them the same way? Felix didn’t know how this was supposed to go, what he was supposed to do when he hated seeing Sylvain with other people, when his hands twisted restlessly in his sheets at night because he wished they were Sylvain’s instead. He found himself thinking about what Sylvain had admitted to him, about the things he wanted but couldn’t have. He wondered if it was something he could give, if Sylvain would ever ask him for it.
Felix never thought he would end up with a hunger of his own, wanting Sylvain to be hungry for him.
-
“Your hair is down,” Sylvain stated a little lamely as he stood in the doorway of Felix’s room.
Felix turned around, his hair swishing against his neck, and heard the door close. He walked over to the bed, running his fingers through his hair as he waited. Then looked up. By now, Sylvain would be sitting in his usual spot, chatting away about another relationship he’d managed to self-sabotage.
Sylvain was still standing in front of the door, staring at him.
“What are you waiting for?” Felix said. “Sit.”
Sylvain cleared his throat. “Right,” he mumbled, striding over, stopping by the bedside table first. He unpacked his bundle of food — an assortment of fruits tumbling out along with some spiced rice cakes, still steaming. It was more than usual. Sylvain carefully spread it all out on a cloth before he sat, glancing up at Felix. “I managed to convince one of the dining hall cooks to make some. You like them, right?”
He did. “Thanks.”
Sylvain smiled, looking rather proud of himself. Quickly losing his nerve, Felix sat before Sylvain could make room for him, his back flush against Sylvain’s chest. “I — oh —”
Felix unbuttoned his shirt — the usual two — and slid it off his shoulder. He didn’t go so far as to put on perfume or strip entirely, but he did bathe beforehand. He felt his ears and face burn; he felt ridiculous, trying to be alluring when he didn’t know the first thing about it. Felix knew what Sylvain liked, or at least he thought he did — Sylvain said once that he should leave his hair down every now and then. Maybe this wouldn’t work. Still, he waited, feeling Sylvain’s heartbeat against his back.
Felix held his breath as Sylvain carefully pushed his hair to the side and over his shoulder, his knuckles skirting across the nape of his neck. He ran a finger from Felix’s cheekbone to his ear, trailing against the shell of it as he tucked away the wayward strands. Felix tried not to shiver.
“I’m going to start now.” Sylvain’s voice was unusually soft.
“Okay,” Felix replied, baring his neck.
He felt Sylvain’s breath, warm against his skin. Then a soft brush of lips before Sylvain set his teeth, his fangs sinking in. Felix felt the familiar dizzying rush as Sylvain drank from him, his hands holding him steady against his body. Felix sighed, his shoulders loosening, and waited. It didn’t take long for Sylvain’s hands to meander. Sylvain ran his hands down his thighs, squeezing gently. Then stopped. Stroked up his thighs, slower. Felix spread his legs, just a little, felt Sylvain’s hands follow, his fingertips dipping down to his inner thighs.
Then, Sylvain stopped, his hands retracting to rest on top of Felix’s thighs, his fingers curling.
Felix scowled, letting go of a quiet, exasperated breath.
Felix moved like he was trying to shift up on the bed and that did the trick — Sylvain’s breath hitched, his mouth dislodging as Felix rolled his hips against him. Felix felt a slow trickle down his shoulder; Sylvain swore softly, trying to catch the blood before it made a mess, Felix shivering at the feeling of Sylvain’s tongue dragging against his skin. Sylvain quickly latched back on, sucking up the excess blood roughly — Felix didn’t hold back the moan that fell from his lips, blood rushing downward, reaching up to curl his fingers in Sylvain’s hair to hold his mouth against his neck, trembling as the heat in his body flared. Over the pounding in his ears, Felix couldn’t hear it, but he could feel it — Sylvain groaning low against his skin, Sylvain’s hands gripping his thighs, the unmistakable line of his cock against his back. Felix let his hand drag down the side of Sylvain’s face as it dropped, losing the energy to hold it up. A whimper escaped his lips as Sylvain withdrew his fangs, his hands back on his hips, trying to hold him upright.
“Felix?”
Felix only hummed in response, his head lolling back against Sylvain’s. Feeding always left him tired; he felt like he had just fought a battle on his own and won. He hardly had the energy to speak.
“I think I overdid it today,” Sylvain mumbled apologetically.
Felix hummed again, as if he wasn’t mostly to blame.
Sylvain carefully laid him down on the bed, picking up his legs and depositing them on the bed. Sylvain moved over him, fluffing up the pillow under his head, his hand reaching for his shirt to pull it closed, but he stopped, his eyes flitting to meet Felix’s. Sylvain’s eyes were glowing gold; Felix could follow the movement of his gaze down his body. Felix moved his hips, just a little, like he was just trying to get comfortable on the bed, his heart beating faster when he saw Sylvain swallow. There was a faint blush on Sylvain’s cheeks. Felix didn’t often get to see him face to face like this after he fed. He wondered if he always looked like this.
“Oh,” Sylvain blinked. His eyes were back to his usual warm brown. “I um, missed a little blood.”
If it were any other night, Felix would have grabbed a handkerchief and wiped it off, ignoring Sylvain’s whines of wasted food and blaming him for being a messy eater. Tonight, he flicked open two more buttons, turned his head, and presented his neck again. He caught a glimpse of Sylvain’s eyes — bright gold again — as Sylvain bowed his head, licking up a stripe of skin from his shoulder to his neck. He hovered over the bite mark before he leaned down to lap at it, Felix trying to muffle the soft whine in the back of his throat each time Sylvain’s tongue touched the sensitive, aching skin. Sylvain’s eyes glowed brighter, his pupils narrowing as he covered the mark with his mouth and sucked hard, Felix gasping sharply in pain and pleasure.
“Ah — Sylvain —”
Sylvain let go with a wet pop, his warm breath skating against the damp skin, brushing his lips against it. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his hand coming up to cradle Felix’s cheek. “I’m sorry, you’re just so —”
Felix sighed as Sylvain kissed slowly up his neck, all the way up to the back of his ear, the curve of his jaw, all pretenses abandoned. Sylvain looked at him again, his expression hungry despite all of the blood he had consumed.
“You’re so cute like this,” Sylvain whispered, pressing his lips to Felix’s cheek. “Like you want me to have you.”
Sylvain’s voice had turned honeyed, the way it did when he flirted, but it was cut with the rough edge of genuine desperation. Felix wanted so badly to know what Sylvain wanted. He wanted it to be him. “So what are you waiting for?” Felix asked again.
All it took was a lift of his chin to beckon him in, to get Sylvain to lean down and close the distance, capturing Felix’s lips in a heated kiss. Felix opened up for him easily, moaning when his tongue slid against Sylvain’s. Sylvain’s fangs caught on his lip — curious, Felix ran his tongue against the sharp points, twitching when he felt a sting.
“Felix,” Sylvain gasped, pulling away like Felix was the one who was doing lewd things to him. Felix tasted copper in his mouth; he must have cut his tongue. Sylvain gracelessly stuck his tongue back into Felix’s mouth, coaxing Felix’s tongue into his mouth to suck on the tip. Once he was certain the bleeding had stopped, Sylvain pulled away again, breathing hard, his teeth and eyes back to normal again. Felix hummed. He liked Sylvain’s eyes when they were golden but he liked his brown eyes best.
“This is — it’s the bite,” Sylvain said weakly. “It makes you feel —”
If it was something as simple as hunger, solved by something as simple as feeding it, maybe it would have been enough to just let Sylvain believe that this was just the bite, the feeding. But Felix didn't want Sylvain to feel the way he did when he did this with others, so uncertain about being wanted. He didn’t want all of this because Sylvain was a vampire. “It's just you," Felix breathed.
Sylvain groaned, fell into him again, kissed him again before moving down his neck, his chest. He flicked a nipple with his tongue, Felix whimpering and twitching, before he closed his mouth around it. Felix squirmed, feeling his pants get tighter.
“I knew I wouldn’t be able to let you go after the first time,” Sylvain said helplessly. “Not when you keep giving in to me like this.” He scattered kisses down his abdomen as he flicked open the rest of Felix’s shirt. He nuzzled his crotch, breathing deep. “Not when you need me like this.”
Sylvain undressed, barely giving Felix the chance to look, before he tugged Felix out of his own clothes, his eyes shameless as they roved over his body. He leaned down to trail kisses down his navel, burying his nose in the hair at the base of Felix’s cock, sucked a kiss there, another on the tip. Felix whined when that was all the attention Sylvain paid him, moving down to his thighs, biting gently on the insides.
“Eager,” Sylvain said softly, his hands stroking his thighs. “We can go slow. I don’t want to hurt you. Well,” his smile turned a little sharp, “not too much.”
He picked Felix up with ease, pulling his limp body against him before he sat back against the headboard, arranging Felix in his lap so that he was straddling him, holding him up with a hand against his back, the other on his hip. Sylvain had become broader from his recent paladin training, stronger from wearing all of that armor; add that to his supernatural strength and it was no wonder he could move Felix around like he was a ragdoll.
Sylvain glanced at the bedside table, opening the drawer, raising an eyebrow as he retrieved a half-empty vial of oil. “You’ve been having fun without me?”
If Felix had the blood for it, he’d blush, but they were well past being shy now.
Uncorking it, Sylvain tilted the vial between them, dripping oil on their cocks. He started to move slowly, holding Felix firmly as he rocked against him, Sylvain’s cock nestled neatly between Felix’s balls.
“It’s like you were made for me, Felix,” Sylvain purred, curling his hand around the both of them. Felix held onto Sylvain’s shoulders, panting, watching the filthy slide of their bodies, Sylvain groaning as he thrust up against him.
“It’s okay to come,” Sylvain whispered as he tightened his grip and began to pump his hand, his thumb swiping over the head. “It won’t be the last time for the night.”
With that promise, Felix came with a strangled cry, spilling onto Sylvain’s stomach, his forehead falling against Sylvain’s. Sylvain held him steady as he ran his fingers through the mess on his stomach, licking them clean and grinning when he saw Felix watching. Felix bucked his hips weakly against Sylvain’s hard cock before Sylvain squeezed his hip.
“You haven’t —”
Sylvain shook his head. “I can wait,” he said. “Let me take care of you.”
Sylvain bent his legs so Felix could lean back against his thighs. It was a nice position, one where they could look at each other. With his hands free, Sylvain reached out to touch him, to run his palms slowly down Felix’s torso, down his thighs, to spread and hold open his legs. Felix reached back to touch Sylvain’s firm thigh. He wished he could touch him more too, if only he had the strength to spare. He looked at Sylvain, looking at him, his hands carefully avoiding Felix’s oversensitive cock, dipping down to touch the soft skin behind his balls.
“Can I?” Sylvain asked, his fingers already brushing against his hole.
Felix swallowed and nodded.
Sylvain took the oil again, pouring it on the crease where Felix’s hip met his thigh, catching the oil before it could drip onto the bed. He gently rubbed his thumb against him before he sunk a finger inside him slowly, using his other hand to hold his leg up. Felix twitched, moaning; it felt so much better than when he did it on his own. Sylvain smiled as Felix panted, adding another finger to spread him open. Once he was satisfied, Sylvain withdrew his fingers, placating Felix’s whine with a kiss and pulling his arms to loop around his neck before lifting his hips with a hand on each cheek. Felix felt the wet tip of Sylvain’s cock rubbing against his rim as Sylvain circled his hips; Felix tried to move to get him in, but Sylvain held him steady, only lifting his own hips to push the tip of his cock in and out, teasing.
“Sylvain,” Felix hissed with the same ferocity he used when Sylvain was on his last nerve and Sylvain laughed.
“I’ve got you,” Sylvain promised, finally easing him down, kissing his neck as Felix choked out a gasp. Sylvain started slow, lifting him and sinking him back down on his cock, letting Felix get used to the feeling of being stretched, his hands pressing his cheeks together, dragging ragged moans out of Felix’s throat as every slow thrust drove his cock deeper inside him. “Perfect,” Sylvain praised, licking away the sweat on Felix’s neck. “Just like that. You’re doing so well.”
Finally, his ass met Sylvain’s groin. It was overwhelming, how full he felt — Felix was dizzy with pleasure, feeling himself clenching tighter with each deep thrust, pleased when Sylvain answered his cries with groans of his own. Soon enough, Sylvain was moving faster, bouncing him in his lap, fucking himself with Felix’s body.
“Does it feel good, Felix?” Sylvain panted as Felix nodded, frantic. It was thrilling, being used like this, letting Sylvain take what he wanted; Felix only wished he could have done this on his own so that Sylvain’s hand could be free to touch him.
Felix pulled a hand back to rest against Sylvain’s neck; Sylvain slowed as Felix pressed his forehead against his, waiting for Sylvain to meet his unfocused gaze before he kissed him. Sylvain let out a soft groan, pushing Felix down as he thrust up into him, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep. Felix trembled and moaned, feeling the hot come inside him, relieved when Sylvain started stroking him. All it took was a few firm tugs to get him to come the second time. His fingernails dug into Sylvain’s back as Sylvain ground his hips against him, using his clenching hole until he was spent. By the time he was done, Felix was boneless against him, his head falling to rest against the one arm he still had hanging over Sylvain’s shoulder.
Sylvain carefully lifted Felix, slipping out of him, before laying him back down on the bed. The cool sheets were a welcome reprieve. Felix breathed slowly as Sylvain leaned over him and pushed his hair out of his sweaty face, his own hair a mess.
“Are you okay?”
Felix swallowed, his throat feeling dry. “Yes.” Sylvain ran his hands down his body, looking him over, before trailing back up, his fingers gently touching the mark on Felix’s neck. His lips were taut, his brow furrowed. Felix mustered up the strength to lift his hand, pulling Sylvain’s hand away to hold it. “Are you?”
Sylvain’s unease faded as he smiled, leaning down to bump his forehead against Felix’s before he kissed him again, slow and sweet, pulling away only to return moments later, like he couldn’t resist sinking back into the wet heat of his mouth. “I want you again,” he breathed. “Can I have you?”
Felix was exhausted, barely able to move, but he still wanted more, wanted everything Sylvain could give him. “Yes.”
Sylvain didn’t feed from him again, but he fucked him on his back, his hand tangled in Felix’s hair, then again later that night, on his stomach. Felix lost count of how many times Sylvain sucked him off, moaning for his come like it was better than blood, didn’t think there was a single inch of skin left on his body that Sylvain didn’t touch. Sylvain let him fuck him too, grinding in his lap as he rode him.
“Tell me you want me,” Sylvain pleaded, like it was everything to him, and Felix did, again and again, struggling to stay awake through it all, to respond to Sylvain’s every request, to hear every word Sylvain murmured into his skin, until he was past his limit, falling asleep with Sylvain’s hands on him, Sylvain’s body moving slowly against his.
-
Felix would admit to not knowing what would happen afterward. He had figured awkwardness would be inevitable, had considered the possibility of Sylvain pretending it didn’t happen, adding it to the list of things they didn’t talk about. He had been thinking about it, the difference between need and want, how hard it was to see, but when he woke up to fresh food and water on the bedside table, his body sore but clean, his blanket tucked carefully around him, Sylvain being tragically hopeless at being quiet as he tried to dress without waking Felix, it became clear what it was. The difference between need and want was a choice.
“You know I trust you, don’t you?”
Sylvain stood by the bed, frozen, his spats tugged up mid-calf. Felix looked at him, a little amused. Sylvain gave up, yanking it off as Felix pulled a hand out of his cocoon, relieved that Sylvain went toward him, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand resting on top of Felix’s.
“I know,” Sylvain said, a half-smile on his lips. “Even though I don’t know why. You know what I am.”
“I know who you are,” Felix corrected.
Sylvain huffed. “Felix,” he sighed, like he wasn’t understanding him, but Felix did. Sylvain knew him, could read him like a book, but not when it came to this — not when he didn’t believe anyone would want him the way he was, when he didn’t believe Felix could want him on his own.
Felix threaded their fingers together, a little embarrassed by his own boldness. Sylvain looked at him, biting his lip before he leaned down slowly, unsure, before Felix impatiently tugged him down for the last inch. It was just a brief kiss, Felix letting go and dropping his head back down on his pillow, looking into Sylvain’s wide eyes. Felix wasn’t good with words, not the kind people needed to hear, but he knew there was no other way for Sylvain to understand.
“You’ve been mine ever since you promised you would be with me until the end,” Felix mumbled. “I can be yours too, if you’ll have me.”
Sylvain scrubbed a hand over his face, groaning softly as he fell against him to bury his face in the crook of Felix’s neck. His face was hot. “You can’t just say things like that,” he said weakly. “I’ll want to keep you forever.”
“Whatever you need, whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.” Felix was glad Sylvain couldn’t see his own blush; he wrapped an arm around Sylvain’s neck to make sure he wouldn’t. “If you want forever, I’ll give you that too.”
It was funny how this hunger worked, how Felix still didn’t feel sated until he felt Sylvain nod against his neck, his hand holding his tightly.