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Terry is not sure how long he and Lark have been running.
"This way!" Lark cries as he leads Terry down yet another narrow alleyway, the footsteps and screams behind them finally beginning to fade a bit.
Terry doesn't have the energy to tell Lark to slow down, that he needs to catch his breath. In any case, he knows that isn't a real option.
They do eventually reach their destination: the door of an abandoned, mostly empty, basement-level apartment that they have learned to call home. Even running on pure adrenaline, Lark picks the lock with a practiced ease and enters through the doorway.
"Terry Junior," he whispers quickly, "I invite you in!"
Though it is far away, the voice of the mob's leader is loud enough that both Lark and Terry can make out what is said.
"We will find you bloodsucker!" the man's angry voice booms, "And that filthy dog of yours too!"
Terry rushes into the tiny apartment, just about slamming the door before locking it shut behind him.
The sound of panting fills the darkness of the room as both lovers make desperate attempts to soothe their burning throats and chests and fill their lungs with whatever soot-ridden air might offer itself to them. Terry can feel his heart rate begin to dip down, and as it does his muscles start to ache. With time it no longer hurts to breathe, though the repose does nothing to quell his lightheadedness. He grabs on to a nearby chair for support, and focuses blankly on the details in the wood as he tries to steady his breath.
"We should be... Safe for now..." Lark breathes, clutching his chest lightly. "Don't think they... Saw us..."
Terry cannot bring himself to look up. He is trembling. Dark, inky blotches corrupt his vision, and every one of his veins seems to be screaming at him in ice-cold agony. There is no denying it. He knows what his body craves, knows that he must soon feed, and it is the nauseating thought of this that finally leaves him too weak to stand.
"Shit" Lark curses as Terry's knees buckle in and his legs give out. He catches the taller man before he can hit the floor.
"Terry," he says, looking to the man in his arms for some sign of life. "Terry" he repeats through gritted teeth, cupping the vampire's jaw with one hand and gently lifting his head as he uses the other hand to support his back.
Now Terry is forced to look Lark in the eyes. It's the concern in the smaller man's face that simultaneously fills his heart with unrivaled desire and makes him want to die. He knows his boyfriend would do anything for him, and loathes the thought of how utterly underserving he is of Lark's hellbent devotion.
"You need to drink," Lark says firmly, moving with Terry to sit him down in the darkest corner of the room. "How long has it been?"
Terry averts his gaze. "I'm fine," he croaks, slumping against the wall as Lark kneels in front of him, "just need to rest for a bit."
"Bullshit you're fine!" Lark scolds in a loud whisper. He sighs, then grabs one of Terry's gloved hands, more gently than the vampire expects, and removes the glove before kissing the skin beneath it with a tenderness reserved only for him.
"Mi amor," Lark pleads assertively, still holding his lover's cold hand, "you need to keep your strength. Please."
The scent of Lark's blood tantalizes him. His eyes are drawn back towards the shorter man's against his will. At this, Lark's own eyes light up with hope, and he proceeds to eagerly pull down the collar of his coat to reveal the smooth flesh of his neck. Terry's mouth waters.
"I can't."
"Yes you can" Lark asserts. "You have my permission."
"No it-" he holds himself stiff against the wall as Lark tries to close the gap between them. "It isn't right. Any of this."
"Says who?" Lark says seriously, not looking for an answer. Determined, he removes his coat entirely. There is less than a few inches between them now. Lark grips Terry's shoulders, and stares at him dead-on.
"You need to drink."
"I can't!" Terry whimpers, "C-can't ever. I don't want to hurt anybody. Not... Not again. Not you."
Lark does not falter, perhaps anticipating his partner's resistance, and presses himself up against Terry such that their chests now touch, the warmth of Lark's body rendering Terry all too aware of the coldness of his own.
"Terry," Lark whispers darkly, "I need you to live, and this is all I can offer. Stop making excuses for why you can't do it. Use me Terry, I want you to use me."
Terry gulps, then licks his lips, unable to tear his eyes from one of the more prominent veins lining Lark's neck.
"I won't," he speaks just above a whisper, loosely holding back tears, "and you're out of your fucking mind, Lark."
"I thought you knew that about me," Lark says with a small, tired smirk. The vampire studies him as he closes his eyes for a brief moment, sighs, then tilts his head and moves in towards Terry's neck, the new position leaving even more of his vulnerable skin exposed.
"Please," Lark coerces, gently tugging on the layers of Terry's garments to reveal his neck, which he kisses softly, teasing the frigid flesh between his warm lips. Terry gasps. "Please drink," Lark whispers between kisses, "You have my permission. Please."
Terry can feel his heart drumming. Dizzy and lovedrunk, his stomach twists and churns in burning knots as he stares in frozen captivation at the movement of Lark's neck while the man in question pleads between sweet, tactfully-placed kisses.
"You need to keep your strength. Drink from me Terry, plea-! ...Ah!"
Lark's words are cut as a pair of sharp fangs pierce his neck. He gasps, gripping tightly into Terry as the pain surges through him. His breathing slows, but Lark does not complain, does not acknowledge the discomfort as he clings to the vampire and carefully rests a head on his shoulder.
But Terry knows it hurts, and as Lark's blood begins to run through his system, so does the guilt. And yet for all the remorse he feels, Terry can't deny the relief of finally getting to feed, nor how much he relishes the sweet metallic taste of Lark's blood.
After several minutes of drinking, Lark fades into unconsciousness in his lover's arms, and Terry withdraws his fangs. He stares for a bit at the bite marks on Lark's neck, feeling a strange mix of protectiveness and guilt and- if he's being honest with himself- an undeniable sense of territorial-ness looking at Lark, his Lark, whose blood no other may drink.
"My soldier" Terry coos with a loving sigh as he combs delicate fingers through his sleeping lover's hair, feeling much more energetic than he did prior to getting his fill.
He hears shouting from beyond the walls, though he cannot make out the words being said. He carefully leans forward just enough to grab Lark's coat from off the floor and drape it over both of them.
Now it is his turn- his turn to keep watch, and keep his boyfriend safe.