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Anton first laid eyes on Viago soon after he’d turned.
It was widely known that freshly-turned werewolves were wilder than those with more Wolf years under their belts. The heightened senses, rushes of hormones, and intense primal urges made it impossible to reign oneself in at first, which is why greener Wolves needed a pack– to keep them in line, to help train them to take control of their animal instincts. It was a long, frustrating process, and Anton was deeply insecure about how little control he seemed to have over himself post-bite.
He’d met Vampires before and immediately disliked them. The bravado, the elitism, the syrupy sexuality that made his stomach turn. Vampires put more effort into their mutual animosity than the Wolves ever had, as far as Anton could tell. Even seemed to get off on it. It pissed Anton off, and older Wolves often had to hold Anton back when the Vampires were around.
But one of them was different. Curt, yes, but still polite. Restrained. Controlled. Everything the other Vampires were not, and everything Anton aspired to be.
The two groups met in passing, insults and catcalls were exchanged, and Anton watched quietly, reigning himself in, from the back of the pack as a tall, slender Vampire with a German accent defused the altercation with a too-loud “they’re not worth it” and steered his group away from Anton’s pack.
Anton’s interest was already piqued when the German looked over his shoulder as he walked away, catching Anton’s eye, their gaze held together like they were connected by two opposite ends of a lit fuse.
Anton wondered which end the dynamite was on.
–--
Anton knew Viago’s name by the time they met again.
The Creature community in Wellington was thriving but small, and word got around quickly. A few well-placed questions and overheard conversations gave Anton more information than he needed, though not as much as he wanted.
Run-ins between Vampires and Werewolves were uncommon, though, with the two groups mostly avoiding one another. Live and Let Live– at least, as much as one could with the Undead. The groups occasionally crossed paths, but never when both Anton and Viago were present, and their next encounter wasn’t until shortly after Anton was voted Alpha.
“Werewolves, not Swearwolves!” he chided, and he sixth-sensed a certain prim curiosity in his novel approach to leading his pack. Tone down the toxicity , he had told them. We have monsters inside us, that doesn’t mean we need to let them have free reign. Keep control of ourselves, it IS possible!
No one needed to know that he wasn’t reacting to the vulgarity of the term “Count Fagula” so much as who it was directed at, or the way Viago’s hurt frown in response to the slur made Anton’s hair stand on end. No one needed to know how acutely aware he was of Viago’s eyes being firmly settled on him, constantly, for the remainder of their interaction. No one needed to know that the only reason Anton allowed his pack to be seen on camera in the first place was because the thought of Viago watching it later made his face warm and his stomach flutter.
But Viago knew. Anton could tell, from the way he caught the Vampire’s sidelong glance and intrigued expression as the two groups parted, that Viago knew.
–--
Peace between the Werewolves and the Vampires was a welcome change.
Stu was the first to suggest the truce, of course. Anton probably could have acted a little more hesitant. But if anyone noticed how quickly he agreed that it was time to end the centuries-long feud, at least in their small Wellington community, they didn’t call him out on it.
His blood buzzed as he arrived with his pack at the Vampire household to extend the proverbial olive branch. He held himself back, barely, from running through the house like an excited puppy in search of Viago for their first real interaction. Instead he allowed Deacon to give them a tour of the house, offer them drinks, and finally bring them to the living room, where Viago and Vladislav were passing their time. And even though part of him was itching to race forward, hand outstretched in over-eager greeting, when he was finally faced with the lace cuffs and taught demeanor without the barrier of animosity between them, he froze. Just for a moment.
Because what would happen when they touched? What would happen when they shook hands and skin met skin, when the eye contact and scent carried on the breeze turned to something tangible and exposed? Would Viago’s skin feel cold? Would it absorb the heat Anton felt burning within himself? Anton suddenly felt as fragile as paper dangling in the air over a candle flame, and he tried, unsuccessfully, to remember what thoughts might have been etched into his surface before he let himself burn.
He stepped forward, arm outstretched in greeting, and Viago took Anton’s hot palm into his own.
His skin was cool, but not cold. Room temperature. Not like metal or glass, but like the other side of the pillow on a warm night. Refreshing. New. Ready to be warmed.
The eye contact was as intense as ever as they shook hands slowly, performatively. “I’m Anton,” he said, after a moment.
Viago cocked his head slightly, one corner of his mouth quirking into a grin. “I know,” he replied, and squeezed Anton’s hand once more before letting it slip out of his grasp.
Anton couldn’t hide the shiver that chased through him as Viago walked away.
---
He was happy Viago had found love.
The woman seemed nice enough. Charismatic, even, and had interesting stories from traveling. But more than that, Anton could tell from the way Viago looked at her, that he was happier than Anton had ever seen him. Which was good.
But it didn't feel good. Nor did it feel like jealousy– more like a bitter sort of grief, mourning an opportunity he deeply wanted but would never have now that Viago had found eternal love and happiness and a perfect Disney Channel ending with the love of his life.
He told himself he was happy Viago had found love. That didn’t mean he wanted to see it, so he stopped visiting the Vampire house, stopped making the trip to the other side of town just to shred the label off his beer bottle while he watched those two rub their noses together like a stock photo of newlyweds.
Months went by without seeing Viago. He did think about him, hard as he tried not to, but he continued to tell himself that they barely knew each other, that he was manufacturing a connection that never existed and it was better to let his infatuation fizzle away into nothing.
But Stu’s birthday party couldn’t be avoided. The groups planned to gather at the Vampire house, share drinks and laughs like they always did. Anton knew he couldn’t make excuses to get out of this one, and wanted to be there for Stu, so he showed up. Even though the thought of seeing Viago and Katherine together again made him feel like he’d just swallowed drain cleaner, he showed up.
But Viago wasn’t there. Not in the living room, anyway, where the party was taking place. He waited an admirable amount of time before bringing it up to anyone.
"Viago is depressed," Vlad said, in his matter-of-fact way, when responding to Anton’s inquiry.
"Depressed?" Anton asked, trying not to let his concern show too obviously. "Why is he depressed?"
"He's not depressed," Deacon cut in, sounding irritated, as though the topic had already been discussed many times before Anton brought it up. "He's just been dumped and he's being dramatic."
A jolt of hope shot through Anton so sharply that he nearly dropped his drink, followed by a wave of guilt at feeling practically giddy over something that was probably making Viago feel terrible. "He and Katherine broke up?"
"Yes," Vlad answered, looking at Anton as though he were stupid. There was a time when Anton might have been angered by that look, but he'd gotten used to it by now. "Katherine left him for another man and now he is depressed."
"When did this happen?" Anton asked, legs itching to bolt out of the living room and tear through the rest of the house to find him.
"Last Tuesday."
Anton blinked. "So… just over a week ago? And you think he should be over it by now?"
"I told him to try having some sex," Deacon said dismissively. "He just needs to get laid and he'll be fine."
"Should I find some sexual partners for him?" Vlad asked.
Deacon scoffed. "Good luck, you'll have to hypnotize them. Would you want to have sex with some blubbering sad-sack?"
Vlad frowned, confused. "Yes, I would have sex with a sad sack, I have had sex with many sad sacks."
"Right, good talk, guys," Anton said, walking away from the conversation unnoticed as Vlad and Deacon continued talking as though he was never there. Anton threw a surreptitious glance around the room to see if anyone was paying attention– no one was, and he quietly slipped out of the living room in search of an old, still-burning flame.
---
He found Viago’s room with the door standing open, candlelight bleeding into the hall. Viago was on his side on a chaise lounge, staring morosely at the flame of one of his thirty or so candles, and even over all the burning wax, Anton could smell the heartbreak on him.
Anton stood awkwardly in the doorway a moment before knocking lightly on the frame.
“Alright, mate?” he asked.
Viago looked at him, not at all surprised by his presence, and Anton realized Viago must have heard him coming.
"She left me," Viago sighed, and Anton felt his chest tighten for how sad it sounded.
He took this as an invitation to enter and crossed into Viago’s bedroom, closing the door behind him as he went, and Viago curled himself up tighter to make room for Anton to sit on the end of the sofa.
"I'm sorry to hear that," he offered, not knowing what else to say. He paused. "You seemed like you really loved her."
"I did," Viago said quietly, nostalgia floating on his mournful tone. Anton felt the urge to reach out and touch him, lay a comforting hand across Viago’s knee, but didn't feel like they were quite there yet.
"She was very lucky," he said instead, "to have someone so devoted to her."
Viago pouted his lower lip, and Anton swallowed dryly, trying not to imagine what that pouty lip would feel like between his teeth. "Devotion was not enough," he mumbled broodingly.
"She didn't know what she had," Anton said firmly. "She doesn't know how rare you are. She's an idiot for not seeing that. You could have anyone you wanted, and you chose her– one day she'll regret giving that up, and you'll have moved on to someone better. Someone who appreciates you." Anton paused, feeling like he’d revealed too much of his intentions. "Y’know. Plenty of fish in the sea, and all that."
Viago screwed up his face. " Yuck," he said under his breath, and Anton didn't know how someone could be so fucking charming while sulking and expressing distaste for fish, but Viago was pulling it off with no apparent effort whatsoever. Anton ignored the blush creeping up on him and changed the subject.
“When was the last time you ate?”
“I don’t eat.”
“You know what I mean.”
Viago sighed heavily. “Not since she left.”
Anton’s brow furrowed in concern. “That’s over a week ago, isn’t it? Don’t you have to feed more often than that?”
Viago shrugged, an awkward, lopsided motion as he lay on one side.
“You need to eat something,” Anton said, firmly but gently. Viago sighed dramatically again. He really did sigh a lot, Anton thought to himself, for someone who doesn’t breathe.
“There’s no one here,” Viago said simply, and although the implication was there’s no one here for me to murder and feed on, the undertone was one of feeling unwanted.
“I’m here,” Anton blurted before he could stop himself.
He sensed the slightest shift in Viago’s posture and demeanor, a perking up. He knew his suggestion sounded eager, desperate even, and at any other time with any other person he would have backtracked or passed it off as a joke. But something told him to wait, to let Viago respond, and the vulnerability of that waiting felt at once both deadly and thrilling.
Viago looked at him, and Anton’s neck hair stood on end at the feeling of being sized up. “You’re offering me your blood,” Viago said, more curious than surprised.
“Some of it, yes,” Anton replied.
Viago sat up slowly, dark eyes not moving from Anton’s own. “It’s very dangerous, you know,” Viago warned, but his tone was light, almost teasing. Flirtatious? Couldn’t be.
“I trust you.” And Anton did, though he couldn’t for the life of him say why.
Viago’s eyes moved to Anton’s neck, and Anton found himself tilting his head, exposing his jugular.
“This is a great kindness you’re offering,” Viago murmured, leaning closer, his hand creeping like a vine along the back of the couch. Anton remained completely still, neck still craned, flesh still exposed, breath coming shallow and fast.
Viago inhaled deeply just inches from Anton’s ear, smelling him, and when he sighed the air out and Anton felt it cold on his skin his breath caught in his throat.
“This will hurt,” Viago whispered in Anton’s ear, sending a shiver rippling through him like an earthquake. Anton closed his eyes and waited.
He first felt the brush of Viago’s cold lips on his skin, wet and soft and pleasant, followed by the searing, engrossing pain of sharp teeth sinking into the soft meat of his neck. Anton made a sound, a strangled sort of grunt, barely aware of the existence of his own voice as the flood of endorphins raced through him. He felt Viago sucking, drinking him in, tongue lapping at the wounds, and just as quickly as it began Viago detached himself and it was over.
Anton opened his eyes, panting, nails digging into the couch cushion. He turned his head and found their faces inches apart, Viago’s pupils blown so wide his eyes were nearly black, lips swollen and red with Anton’s blood.
Anton swallowed dryly. “That was…”
Intense? Sensual? Erotic? Absolutely fucking pornographic?
“Quick,” he said, instead of the litany of hypersexual words he was actually thinking.
Viago licked his lips and stared at Anton’s neck hungrily. “I didn’t take much,” he said, voice low and smooth as warm syrup.
“Do you need more?” Anton asked quickly. Viago’s eyes darted up to meet his, and the heat of his gaze made Anton’s cock twitch.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Viago replied in that hushed, velvety voice that was too warm for Anton’s burning hot skin to handle.
I do, he almost responded, but instead said, “You won’t. The accelerated healing– my blood is already replenishing itself.”
Viago held his gaze a moment longer, eyes burning cold through him, before they drifted back down to Anton’s neck. A hand reached up and brushed cool fingertips over the wound. Anton shuddered, closing his eyes at the sensation.
“Yes, I can see,” Viago said, his voice sending vibrations along Anton’s now hyper-sensitized skin. “The blood has clotted, I can no longer drink–”
“Bite me again,” Anton rushed, arching his neck, offering himself a second time. Viago hummed thoughtfully.
“It’s not good to bite twice in the same spot, I think,” he said, and although Anton didn’t entirely believe that statement to be true, he was already removing his outermost layer of clothing.
“You can bite me somewhere else,” he offered, tossing his jacket aside, deltoids and collarbone now bared by his sleeveless cotton undershirt. Viago’s eyes roved over the newly-exposed skin for only a moment before he inhaled deeply again, breathing in his scent a second time, savoring it, and exhaled just as he sank his teeth into Anton’s shoulder.
Anton hissed, focus drawn to the hot pain of the bite and the cold hand curling over his knee. His back arched, nails dug deeper into the couch, nearly tearing the upholstery and although Viago took a little more time than before it was still over too soon.
Anton’s breath was heavy and loud in the otherwise silent room when he opened his eyes again, turning toward Viago and finding his face so close their noses almost touched. The air between them felt charged, electric, like the positive ends of two magnets forcing each other apart, both hoping the other would give up and flip so they could snap together.
“More?” Anton asked, his voice low and rough.
Viago nodded, his eyes darting across Anton’s face like they would across the pages of a novel. " Bitte," he whispered, and Anton knew enough German to understand that meant please.
Offering a wrist would have been appropriate. The other side of his neck or his second shoulder would have been fine, too. Any of the several already exposed body parts would have been a logical place for Viago to bite next. But every shred of logic in the room was gone, torched to ashes by the blood-darkened eyes that bored into Anton like the spikes of an Iron Maiden, beautiful agony that bled all of his secrets dry.
Anton took off his undershirt, and seeing the way Viago’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, licking his lips at the sight of Anton’s bare torso, washed a flush of brazen confidence through him. Anton leaned back into the couch, shifting his hips forward and opening his chest, presenting himself in a near-shameless display of flesh and pheromones.
Viago hummed so low in his throat it was nearly a growl and dove his open mouth toward Anton’s chest, teeth sinking into his pectoral muscle and cold hand squeezing its way up Anton’s thigh. Anton groaned, head rolling back on his shoulders as he lost himself in the heady sea of sensation. Viago detached himself and pulled his face up so close to Anton’s their lips nearly brushed against each other.
“ More, ” he panted into Viago’s mouth, and this time it wasn’t a question.
Viago dove his face down again to the opposite side of Anton’s chest and sank his teeth in around Anton’s nipple. Anton should probably have been embarrassed by the moan that escaped from him like an animal from a cage, but shame and virtue held no place in this room, so he let his hands find their way into Viago’s hair as a cool tongue lapped and suckled at him.
Viago pulled away, off of his chest, and Anton had barely begun to gasp the word “ more” again before he was silenced by Viago’s mouth covering his own.
Anton moaned against him, twisting his fingers tighter into the clean, combed, and perfectly coiffed hair. Viago sucked on Anton’s lip and grazed his teeth against it, just slightly, as he climbed into Anton’s lap, long legs straddling his hips and lithe arms winding over his shoulders. Anton felt the room spinning and tried to bring himself back down to Earth, tried to ground himself, and had nearly regained control of his thoughts when Viago sank his weight against him, chest pressed to chest and hips grinding against hips and well that just about fucking did him in.
Anton’s hands shot to Viago’s waist, yanking his shirt out from where it was tucked neatly into his trousers. Viago lifted his arms over his head, allowing Anton to slide the swathe of linen over and off, and Anton caught one flash of a feline grin before their mouths and chests were pressed together again, this time with no barriers between them.
Anton slid his hands over every inch of flesh he could find, incapable of keeping them still now that they had so much new territory to explore. He groped his way to the waistband of Viago’s trousers and tried, clumsily, to push his hands inside, seeking the expanses his hands had not yet mapped, to which Viago responded with a giggle and a grind, rolling his hips deeper into Anton’s lap and pulling a long groan out of him.
“Vi–” he heard himself say, through the haze of sensation.
“Hmm,” Viago hummed back, leaning to one side to suck on Anton’s earlobe.
“Bite me,” he panted, hands still fumbling and tugging at the fabric covering Viago’s hips.
Viago hummed again and curled his tongue behind Anton’s ear. “I’ve had my fill,” he murmured.
Anton groaned, pressing his fingers into Viago’s hip bones and trying to pull their bodies even closer together. “ Please,” he begged, and felt Viago smile against his neck.
He expected to feel teeth sinking into his jugular again. What he got, instead, was Viago pulling away. For a fraction of a second he feared he’d said the wrong thing, but the fear was washed away as Viago slid off of Anton’s lap to kneel between his legs.
The sight of Viago on his knees, looking up at him as he slid his palms up Anton’s thighs, nearly knocked the wind out of him. Anton’s breath was heaving, heart pounding out of his chest, and he felt nearly ready to crawl out of his skin… and there was Viago, poised and collected with his coy hands and batted lashes, smiling up at him like a tiger waiting for its prey to fall from a tree.
Viago held his gaze as firmly as he would a torch while nimble fingers worked at the fly of Anton’s jeans, popping each button open one by one. Anton lifted his hips to assist Viago in pulling the denim down over his knees and ankles, leaving his thighs bare and twitching, with only a pair of navy briefs keeping his excitement contained.
Viago’s hands slid up Anton’s thighs, coming to rest in the creases where they met his hips, thumbs slipping just barely underneath the elastic hem of Anton’s underwear. Anton was lightheaded from how heavily he was breathing, and felt drunk with the slow, self-indulgent way Viago touched him, like he was savoring the act of driving Anton mad. Viago finally tore his eyes away, gaze drifting down Anton’s body and bringing a flush to his skin along with it, and when his eyes landed on where Anton was hard and straining behind precious little fabric, his face broke into a hungry grin, teeth sharp and bared and beautiful. Viago leaned in then and rubbed his face against the bulge, like a cat on catnip, a soft, decadent sound escaping his lips as he did.
Anton threw his head back with a sharp sound that was half moan, half bark as his hips bucked involuntarily, grinding his crotch against Viago’s cheek, which Viago didn’t seem to mind, tilting his face until Anton felt the drag of his soft lips through the fabric. Just as he thought wildly that he might cum from this feeling alone, Viago pulled away, letting his lips find a new home on Anton’s inner thigh instead, and Anton felt that cool tongue lave once over the sensitive skin there before sharp teeth sank into soft flesh once more.
The wanton moan that came careening out of Anton must have been heard by the rest of the house but Anton didn’t care. Nor did Viago, it seemed, as he sucked and lapped at the meat of Anton’s thigh, more intent on leaving a bruise than on drinking his blood. Anton rolled his hips unconsciously, grinding into the air in a desperate search for sensation, another moan filling the room as Viago pulled away. Anton looked down and saw Viago licking his lips and staring back up at him, eyes dark and deep and unfathomable as a chasm at night.
"I need you naked," Anton panted, " now."
Viago grinned proudly and leaned back, slithering backwards until he was sprawled on his back on the floor, an invitation. Anton scrambled off the sofa and towards Viago, climbing over him, kissing him deeply again and tasting his own blood. He pulled away from the kiss and settled himself in a kneel over Viago, straddling his thighs so that he could fumble with the rows of buttons on Viago’s fall-front trousers. It was easier said than done, and Viago offered no help, choosing instead to giggle at Anton’s urgent clumsiness, until Anton gave a frustrated growl and yanked at the offensive clothing, popping every one of those damned buttons off in one motion and sending them scattering across the room. Viago didn't mourn their loss, only made a pleased sound and lifted his hips to allow Anton to pull his trousers down and toss them to the side.
"So hungry , Anton," Viago purred, now naked and sliding his hands lasciviously over his own skin.
And, indeed, Anton had never felt hungrier than he did now as he stared at the expanse of skin, soft and cool as a petal, hard cock jutting out from narrow hips that begged Anton to touch, to taste.
He looked up at Viago darkly. "Starving," he replied, and lowered his head to suck as much of Viago’s cock into his mouth as he could.
Viago let out a sigh that turned into a moan, and Anton couldn't help but groan himself as he sank his head down over Viago’s length and let himself drown in Viago’s sounds and scent. The scent of dried flowers and parchment paper, of antique velvet and foggy nights and blood.
" Sheisse, liebling," Viago murmured, and his moans grew louder and longer as Anton picked up his pace, wanting to break him, to feel those last shreds of control come apart inside his mouth. Viago writhed underneath him, not seeming to know or care how loud he was, how unbridled, sliding his hands over Anton’s shoulders and clawing his nails into Anton’s back. Anton felt Viago’s thighs tense under his hands and closed his eyes, relishing in the feel and taste of self restraint releasing as Viago came hot and loud in his mouth.
Anton drank in everything Viago had to give, slowing his pace as the lewd sounds above him grew softer. When he eventually pulled his lips away and sat up, he was struck like a bludgeon by the sight of Viago, known for his poise and propriety, lying naked and debauched before him– limbs splayed haphazardly and eyes closed in relief, a soft, salacious smile spread over his lips.
Anton was sure he had never been harder in his life, but he couldn't stop staring, and didn't want to disturb such a beautiful sight until he was certain he had memorized it. Viago was the first to move, rolling his head toward Anton, looking up at him and smiling wider.
"You're very good with your mouth, hündchen," he drawled, and Anton felt his cock twitch at the pet name.
“Glad you approve,” he panted hoarsely, trying to catch the breath he hadn’t realized he’d lost. Viago licked his lips and lifted himself up, pushing Anton by the chest until they were kneeling in front of one another, and kissed him softly, languidly, toying with the urgency of Anton’s need. Anton whined desperately, aching, and felt Viago smile against his mouth.
“ Please, Vi, I need it, please touch me,” he babbled as his hands roamed over Viago’s naked torso, his skin feeling cool and luxurious under Anton’s hot, rough hands. Viago giggled and brushed his fingers down over Anton’s chest, his stomach, along the waistband of Anton’s briefs. Anton whined, not knowing how much more of this torture he could take before he collapsed under the weight of his own desire, crushed like a bug under Viago’s delicate thumb.
Viago’s fingers dipped underneath the waistband and slowly pulled Anton’s underwear down, freeing his cock from the now damp confines at last, and Anton would have shuddered at the cold air if he wasn’t already shaking with need. His hands grasped at Viago’s waist, tried to pull him closer, but Viago resisted, pressing his hands into Anton’s hips to keep them at distance.
Anton had a beast inside him. A beast clawing and howling at his bones, climbing up his emotional walls to be set free. A beast which he went to great effort to keep reigned in for the safety of those around him. He didn’t know how it felt to not be in control. Under Viago’s touch he felt something within him break and he squeezed his eyes shut at the inevitability of his monster surging forward, but felt instead an animal contented, chuffing, curling up under Viago’s torturously gentle hands. It was as though he’d handed off a leash to a new owner, and the relief of it made Anton sob as he gave in and just let himself feel for once.
A hand cupped his jaw and he opened his eyes to look into Viago’s, smoldering and powerful. Anton blinked slowly, the wild beast inside him now purring and submissive as he leaned into Viago’s hand. Viago smiled and kissed him softly, and whispered “ good boy” against Anton’s lips.
Anton’s thoughts were as still and vacant as glacial water, his mind filled only with sensations instead of concepts, and his already heightened senses were even sharper now as Viago’s hands roved over him, his touch now firmer and filled with purpose. Palms gliding electric over sweat-damp skin, fingers sliding through the soft hair on Anton’s belly and following the path it made until a soft, cool hand finally wrapped itself blissfully, mercifully around Anton’s dick.
A deep, drawn-out groan was pulled from Anton’s chest as his head lolled back on his shoulders, one arm wrapped around Viago’s waist to keep himself from falling over as he swayed, leaning his weight against him, letting himself succumb to Viago’s firm hand.
“Thank you,” Anton murmured, unaware that it had escaped him until it was gone, and he felt Viago press a smile into his neck as his hand began to move.
Anton moaned loudly, any concerns about being overheard long since gone as Viago stroked him, slow at first, running the length of the shaft and slowly picking up the pace, and when his fist closed and circled over the tip Anton keened and dug his nails into Viago’s side, this wouldn’t last long, he knew this wouldn’t last long and he didn’t care, all he cared about was the rapturous, disastrous feeling of letting himself fall apart when he had someone there to catch him.
So close he was barely breathing, short, high-pitched gasps escaping his burning lungs as the hand stroked faster and faster, a clever tongue sliding over his neck, and the soft, dark words in his ear, “Come for me, liebling,” just before sharp teeth sank into his neck one last time.
Anton came, hard and loud, shuddering and moaning and overcome with sensation as his hips thrust helplessly into Viago’s hand, spilling over his fingers and onto the floor as the moans turned into “ thank yous” in Anton’s beholden mouth.
He felt his weight sink down as he collapsed into a heap on the floor, blissed and exhausted, and was just beginning to regain conscious thought when he felt Viago slide up next to him, propping himself on one elbow to run his hand through Anton’s chest hair. Still only partially aware of his own actions, he reached out on instinct and pulled Viago in to him, tangling their limbs together and pressing their bodies so close together that for a moment he could almost believe they were one. Viago didn't resist, sliding his arms around Anton’s shoulders, and they lay like that, intertwined and inseperable as the branches of a banyan tree, until Anton’s breathing returned to normal and he began to notice the muffled sounds of the ongoing party downstairs.
"They'll be wondering where we are," Anton said at last, though he had no intention of moving from their current position on the floor.
He felt Viago smile against his neck. "They know where I am, liebling," Viago replied, his voice laced with amusement and insinuations.
The corner of Anton’s mouth twitched into a smirk. "D'you think they know where I am?"
Viago giggled and nuzzled the side of Anton’s face. " Bitte, why do you think they turned the music louder?"
Anton laughed and kissed him, happy to finally feel like he didn't have to care, didn't have to worry. To feel the beast inside him sated.
At least for now.