Viktor is sprawled on the bed, boneless and warm. He tells himself the heaviness in his body and his unwillingness to get up are only due to him being drained (of blood). Not to being drained of…
Not due to the trail of kisses Anton is currently leaving along his spine.
“I think it’s your saliva.”
Kisses stop. “My saliva what?”
“You know how the effect of some drugs depends on your state when you take them? I think that’s what happens when you bite people. If they are forced, scared, it only amplifies that.”
“Vitya? How… Did you do drugs?”
He doesn’t reply. He thinks Anton knows the answer.
Anton rolls away with a sigh, leaving his back open to the chill of the room. “Витя.”
“Что? Я почти сорок лет Витя.”
“Ви— Сорок? Блядство… And you did drugs?”
“Anything to gain the upper hand against leeches.”
“You did drugs and went on a hunt?!”
“Once, I got myself piss-drunk and went on a hunt.”
“Are you f—”
“It was an old leech, she had powerful hypnotic powers. Can’t influence thoughts when those thoughts are marinating in a bottle of vodka. Or was it two?” He hides a smile in the pillow.
“You really did it, you bastard!” A hand smacks his side.
He laughs, more at Anton’s astonished tone than anything else. “I did, I did. I really don’t remember how much I drank. I woke up to the cheers of my comrades and nearly killed them because my head was hurting so much...” He yelps at a ringing slap to his buttock.
“That’s what you get for doing something this reckless,” Anton grumbles.
Before he can roll over, Anton drapes himself over him, pressing him down — and his laughter hitches when Anton’s fangs graze the back of his neck. “So it’s true,” Anton murmurs, and there is not a trace of laughter in his voice, and his body is deliciously heavy, “that you use combat drugs.”
“Sometimes it is necessary.”
He turns his head and catches Anton watching him, heavy, looking like he wants to say something... But then Anton lunges and presses a hard kiss to his lips, leaving Viktor wondering what he wanted to say but silenced with the kiss.