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Viago had been a dandy for as long as he had been a vampire – that is to say, he’d been a dandy his whole life and after too. Of course, in Germany, they were not called dandies, but the idea of them was the same, and he had always liked the clothes.
He liked the clothes a lot.
He was not going to keep up with the times, either. Modern clothes were ugly and shapeless, and the one time in the eighties that he had worn a t-shirt, Deacon laughed so much that Viago thought he was going to faint. Vlad said Deacon didn’t know what he was talking about, and Viago could make it work if he wanted to, but by then he’d thrown the t-shirt away and gone back to his shirts. He liked them anyway, with the lace at the cuffs and around the collar.
And he didn’t care if the humans of Wellington thought he looked strange. Especially now there was one non-human in particular that he was hoping to catch the eye of.
The first night they went out with the wolves to the club, Viago spent a long time deciding on his outfit. He always spent a long time on it, but this night out was going to be special. He wanted Anton to look at him again like he had at the recent vampire-werewolf game night, when Viago accidentally dribbled blood down his chin and he caught Anton staring at him as he licked his lips clean.
For a while now, Viago had been able to smell something coming from Anton that wasn’t the underlying dog scent all the wolves had, and he wanted Anton to know he had noticed.
So he wore his best shirt and his tight purple coat, the one Vlad said made him look like a medieval prince – and if Vlad said it, then it must be right. He wore his knee-high boots too, just to make sure that his calves looked their best. Deacon combed his hair into a quiff, and put a little bit of the eyeshadow on Viago’s face for him. If Vlad or Deacon noticed he was trying harder than usual, they didn’t say anything.
They met the werewolves outside of the club, a place called The Pearl.
“This is a new place for us,” Vlad said. “Will we be invited in?”
“Oh yeah,” Clifton said. “Anton knows the guys on the door. No problem.”
The Pearl turned out to be a little bit rough, the sort of place that Viago might have unfairly thought werewolves would like, before he got to know them. Of course, they did like it, but he was far too fond of them now to point it out. Instead, he was sitting in the booth, peeling his hand off the sticky table, when Anton slid into the seat next to him, beer in hand.
“I know it’s a bit gross here,” he said, his voice low so Deacon couldn’t hear. He’d been complaining non-stop since the moment they arrived, although no one was paying him much attention. Still, best not to give him too much to work with. “But the boys like it, and it isn’t so bad. No one’s ever caught any diseases in here, anyway.”
“How reassuring,” Viago said, although he could feel himself smiling. He smiled a lot when Anton was near him. The smell coming off him was fresh, laundry powder shot through with aftershave, and the underlying heat of warm animal. That was his blood, Viago knew. He didn’t think too much about that, if he could help it.
It felt like too much to be smelling his blood and enjoying it without permission.
Although it wasn’t the nicest of places, The Pearl had music and space to enjoy it. The wolves liked to dance, just losing their minds with arms and legs flying, and Viago had always liked dancing himself. He was twirling around on the dancefloor with Nathan and Dion, eyes closed, when he bumped into a solid shoulder and sent the owner stumbling.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” he said, turning to come face to face with a large man who was red in the face from too much drink. His blood was pumping hard. Viago could see the vein in his neck pulse.
“Watch what you’re fucking doing,” the man snarled, then turned back to the woman he was dancing with. Under his breath, he added, “Fucking queer.”
Viago had heard that before, of course, and he never thought much about it. He was far too old for name-calling.
But there was a sudden blur as, from nowhere, Anton raced across the dancefloor and caught the man’s shirt collar up in his hand. He dragged him away from Viago, towards the nearest wall, and had him pinned up against it before the man could even start fighting back.
“What did you call my friend?”
Of course. Anton had wonderful hearing too.
The man gaped, too drunk to understand, then his eyes flicked up to look at Viago.
“Oh. Him.”
“Yeah,” Anton growled. “Him. What did you say?”
It would have been comical if Viago had seen it on the street; Anton, a good head shorter than this man, holding him in place with one hand. But it wasn’t on the street. Viago felt something stir in his belly as he watched Anton defend his honour. He couldn’t remember if anyone had ever done that for him.
“Anton,” he said, gently. “People are looking. Maybe put him down, yes?”
Anton growled again, and the noise went straight through Viago. But people were noticing, and there was bound to be trouble. Viago didn’t want the wolves banned from their favourite club.
“You watch your fucking mouth in future,” Anton said, finally dropping his hand away. The man slumped, like Anton’s strength had been the only thing holding him up. Viago shivered.
“You okay?” Anton asked, turning to him. His eyes were darker than Viago had ever seen them, and it occurred to him that Anton was quite drunk as well as angry. A bad mix. A wolfy mix.
“I am fine. Thank you. Shall we – go and get some fresh air?”
The suggestion was partly for Anton to catch a breath, but also because Viago was feeling a little overwhelmed by the heat coming from Anton’s body. If he didn’t get away from him soon, he might have to kiss him, just to have a taste of it.
“Fresh air. Yeah. Please. You sure you’re okay?”
“I am fine. Nothing I have not heard before.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
“I know.”
Anton turned and barrelled his way through the crowd, heading for a door by the bar. Viago followed him, apologising to the people that Anton was pushing out of the way. After Anton’s little display, none of them seemed to have a problem with being jostled by him, but Viago was nothing if not polite.
It was raining as Anton slipped out of the fire exit, holding it open so Viago could follow him through. The buildings overhanging the little alley weren’t doing very much to stop the rain, so Viago did his best to stay pressed against the wall and not think too much about what the damp was doing to his hair.
Anton fumbled in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a box of cigarettes and a lighter. He managed to get the cigarette in his mouth but his hands were shaking, the lighter slipping as his fingers got wetter from the rain. Viago stepped forwards, his hair forgotten.
“Here, Wölfchen. Let me.”
He took the lighter from Anton, shivering at the touch of warm skin on his own as their fingers brushed. Anton didn’t protest, leaning back against the opposite wall. In fact, he didn’t seem to be breathing at all as Viago sheltered the little flame with his hand and leaned closer, guiding the fire up to the cigarette balanced between Anton’s lips.
Anton’s eyes, still dark, met Viago’s over the end of the cigarette.
Then the cigarette was on the ground, and Anton’s beautiful mouth met Viago’s.
Viago squeaked and dropped the lighter as Anton put his arms around him and pulled him closer. The memory of how Anton had effortlessly lifted the man in the club off his feet was fresh in Viago’s mind, and now that Viago was sampling that strength for himself – well, he was not opposed to it. Not at all – even when Anton’s fingers curled so tightly in his jacket that it felt as though he’d tear it at any moment.
But Viago was strong too – stronger than Anton, probably – and he could give as good as he got. He twisted his fingers in Anton’s hair, tugged just enough to hear the rumble of a moan in Anton’s throat.
Anton smelled of beer, his mouth hot with blood, and Viago couldn’t help himself as he nipped at Anton’s lip, lathed his tongue over the drop of blood that swelled there. He tasted – well, like any other human really. A bit richer perhaps. Smokier. His blood would fill the stomach up much quicker than a normal person’s. But it wasn’t disgusting. Not like Viago had always been led to believe.
Anton groaned at the feel of tooth, the hair on the back of his neck standing, prickling Viago’s wrists, but he allowed Viago to lick the blood away before he pulled back.
“Is this – I’m sorry, Viago. Is this alright?”
Anton was panting, but his eyes looked more normal now, back to the gentle hazel that Viago had been so recently enamoured with.
Anton was back in control, the wolf tucked away once more.
But that didn’t mean Viago wanted it to stop.
“This is very wonderful, actually,” Viago said with a grin, his fingers on Anton’s face, holding him in place. “I did not know if you – if you were likely to share my inclinations.”
“Is that a fancy way of saying you didn’t know if I’m gay?” Anton chuckled, a little bit breathless. His pulse throbbed in his throat, and Viago couldn’t help but stare at it. It was so strange, having friends whose blood worked the way it was supposed to. And now he was so close to one of them that he could count the twitching muscles in Anton’s throat, and it was very hard not to just kiss him all over again.
“I’m too old for labelling, Wölfchen,” Viago said, kissing Anton’s chin. “And although you defended my honour very well, I do not need to fight anyone for me. What if the wolf came out in the middle of the dancefloor, hey? That would be very messy to clean up.”
He sealed his declaration with another kiss to the corner of Anton’s mouth, then one the other side, then he just – kept kissing him. His face was very lovely, and deserved to be kissed.
“Just – you don’t deserve it,” Anton blushed, and Viago pressed his lips to the warm cheeks. “Sorry if I went a bit far. But you’re a good guy and blokes like that just rub me up the wrong way.”
“I understand. And thank you,” Viago said, snaking his arms around Anton’s waist and moving his lips to press against his ear. “Now, if I may suggest something – how would you like to take me home and rub me up the right way?”
Anton’s mouth fell open as Viago sashayed away to the end of the alley, glancing over his shoulder. Goodness, he was going to have a good time with his sweet wolf cub.
“Well, come along. You don’t have all night.”
Anton followed.
Naturally.