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Hajime knew that his boyfriend was an ancient one.

How could he not? Tooru has trouble with modern technology, no matter how hard he tries to fit in, he makes references to things that happened centuries ago yet can’t remember what he did last week, and he’s beyond loaded with all the riches he’s accumulated through the ages.

Not that it matters.

Hajime fell for Tooru, much like Tooru himself, the old fashioned way, for his “enchanting” personality and “irresistible” charm. Hajime knows that Tooru is an ancient one, a vampire that still holds onto some traditions, a vampire that other vampires in the city have learned to fear and respect. It comes with age and Tooru has earned every ounce of it.

He fears nothing, no one, and he runs the city’s not-so-underground vampire community under his thumb, something that he’s very good at, no matter what anyone says. Hajime has known the man for months, and yes, Oikawa Tooru fears no man, woman, or vampire alike.

And yet, standing here, waiting for the elevator up to Tooru’s penthouse apartment for the very first time, (“we don’t need to go to my place to have fun, Hajime”), he’s practically shaking in his vintage designer shoes.

“We can go somewhere else, Tooru, you don’t have to show me your apartment,” Hajime raises an eyebrow and gives him a watchful side-eye as the elevator doors open.

“No, no,” Tooru sucks in a shaky breath. “It’s just about time you saw my apartment. It’s been months since we started seeing each other, it’s only natural.”

But nothing about their relationship has ever been natural. Hajime knows it, and he knows Tooru knows it, too. Still, Tooru’s nervous aura spills over into Hajime, and Hajime can’t help but bend to its will.

“It’s not going to have, like, body parts and blood everywhere, is it?” Hajime asks, and Tooru breaks out into a short fit of laughter, some of the tension visibly leaving his body as he finds Hajime’s arm, latching onto it as the elevator starts to ascend. “Cause you freaking out is making me wonder what you get up to in there.”

“No, no,” Tooru repeats, a ghost of a smile tracing his lips. “I’m sorry, it’s just that it’s very… vampiric.”

Hajime snorts. “That’s nothing new.”

“I know,” Tooru nods like he’s trying to agree. “I know, but it’s just-” A quick sigh. “It’s vampiric. It’s… There may not be bodies stacked to the roof or blood everywhere, but there’s…” He trails off, and Hajime doesn’t quite catch what he says.

“Hm?” Hajime hums in question, but Tooru’s face darkens and he looks at the floor.

“I don’t have a bed, Hajime,” Tooru looks up and meets his eye, and Hajime’s brain starts to go through all the motions of what that one sentence could possibly mean.

And it’s not like they’ve had discussions about this before. Hajime knows that vampires need less sleep than humans, but knows they do still partake in some daytime slumber. He knows that Tooru loves snuggling up to him in his own bed in his cheap apartment that only a post-graduate in-between jobs can afford. He knows that Tooru loves his bed more than anything else, always making offhanded comments and thin implications about his past sexual encounters never taking place somewhere as comfortable as a bed.

It never occurred to Hajime that Tooru wouldn’t have a bed at all.

So where does he sleep? A couch? A palette on the floor? Hanging upside down? A freezer?

The elevator doors open up, and Tooru leads him into a neat, clean apartment, everything black and white with splashes of red and dark brown. It’s modern in an antique sort of way, like Tooru had bought all this furniture when it was new and waited long enough for it to all be in fashion again. There’s still a modern flair, especially with the flatscreen TV and his entire kitchen set, but the armchairs, the plush couches, the various sentiments…

They’re all pieces of Tooru that Hajime has only heard in stories.

“I, uh,” Tooru pulls him in and leads him into the kitchen, opening his fridge to reveal a shelf with rows dedicated to various blood bags, the shelf under it containing boxes of takeout that he pulls out and puts on the counter, scooting it towards Hajime. “I know you haven’t eaten yet, so I ordered you your favorite. I know it isn’t much, but I don’t really know how takeout works and I had to get Suga to help-”

“Tooru,” Hajime cuts him off with a small smile. “You did great.”

Tooru smiles in pure relief and Hajime takes a seat in one of the chairs Tooru has pulled up to his breakfast bar. He at least knows how to work the microwave, heating up mugs of blood, and manages to get Hajime’s food in without a hitch, leaning over the counter with a worried expression.

“You’re tense, what’s wrong?”

“Just,” Tooru gestures at his apartment. “This.”

“I think it’s amazing,” Hajime spins around in his chair as they wait for the food to heat up, the microwave whirring as Hajime takes in everything he can.

There’s old photos and books everywhere, neatly stacked on numerous bookshelves that line the walls. There are blackout curtains that have been opened to show off the entire city, his sitting room alone is gigantic, and Hajime can only wonder just how large the apartment truly is.

Dinner, maybe a movie, and whatever it leads to.

He gets to eat, he’ll take part in the daunting task of making sure Tooru is well fed, and the night will continue from there. It’s special, intimate, and whenever Hajime feels Tooru’s fangs, (and Tooru’s fangs alone), puncture his veins, he knows he’s done for.

It’s how they met in the first place, having been matched up as partners for feeding sessions. Hajime had been through three or four partners, almost ready to give up, almost ready to quit his well-intentioned community service of keeping a vampire fed so that random attacks can start to be quelled. Vampires aren’t gentle, and oftentimes, when they call a feeding partner, it isn’t because they’re peckish or because it fits a schedule. It’s when they’re tense, or angry, or starving, and Hajime could feel it in every rough bite, every painful prick of the feed.

Meeting Tooru, he was more than wary. Vampires are rough, tired, stressed from their own politics and the qualms of immortal life, and fresh blood is one of the only things that can help relieve that. He had expected Tooru to be the same way, a young vampire that’s way too overzealous with a feeding partner, indulging more than one should.

But every feed was like clockwork, sensual and careful, and Hajime instantly knew that Tooru was no young vampire, not the run-of-the-mill feeding partner. Tooru’s bite is delicate, like thin silk against smooth skin, hardly painful and immensely pleasuring. The first time that Tooru had bitten him, Hajime had never been so embarrassed in his life. He had moaned, loudly, the bite like a flame under his skin, Tooru’s tongue flicking over the wound with such care and precision that Hajime could only imagine what else his hot, pink mouth was capable of doing.

Tooru had found his embarrassment entirely amusing, and every time after that night when he had come over to Hajime’s apartment or the blood donation center for one of their scheduled feeds, Hajime was left in pure bliss, mental satisfaction, and anticipation for the next bite.

The anticipation led to asking Tooru to hang around afterwards, which led to dates, which led to more intentional teasing, more sensual bites and touches, and suddenly, Hajime couldn’t imagine a life without Tooru.

Not feeding Tooru, or having sensual, intimate moments it could almost be sex with him, but for Tooru himself. His bite too, yes, but his love of humans, his love of the little things, the finer things, his love of life itself. It’s only been eight months since they met, five since they started getting more intimate with their feeding, three since they started dating, but Hajime cannot imagine a future without the ancient vampire.

And he knows that in Tooru’s semi-unbeating heart, he feels the same way.

The microwave beeps, and Tooru touches a finger to the piping-hot container, hissing and recoiling as he shakes it, sucking on the burn. It heals instantly, but Tooru stares it down like he’s cursing its entire bloodline, and Hajime can’t help but lean on his hands and smile.

“You’re such a dork,” He teases, and Tooru turns his glare to Hajime, letting it soften.

“Says the man with a godzilla phone case,” Tooru’s eyes dip down and Hajime looks down at his phone as Tooru slides the steaming food in front of him. “I was there when the original came out.”

“I know,” Hajime chuckles, taking the chopsticks Tooru manages to scavenge from his drawers. “You’ve told me at least five times.”

“And it impresses you every single time,” Tooru smiles, going around to behind Hajime, reaching a long, pale finger up to his collar, pulling it back to show off the crook of his neck. Hajime tilts his chin as he chews to give Tooru a better view, most of it instinct. “Have you been taking your iron tablets?”

“Almost every day,” Hajime truthfully admits, speaking through his food as he works his way through half of it. “I’ve missed a few days, but I’ve been pretty good about it.”

Tooru’s fingers lightly brush over his skin, and goosebumps shoot down his spine. He lets a small sigh pass over his lips, and he can feel Tooru smirking behind him. It’s a smug aura, one that Hajime quickly learned to sense, not see.

“And eating a nice, full meal,” He speaks near Hajime’s ear, running a tongue up his neck.

“I can only finish a nice, full meal if you stop that-”

Tooru’s mouth is right by his ear, his voice like a drug, his words like compulsion.

“I am going to devour you tonight.”

Hajime’s brain goes fuzzy and he instantly feels his breathing start to quicken. There’s a sort of hot, pleasurable rush that comes with the thought of being hunting, of being prey, and Hajime never knew he had this side to him until Tooru entered the equation.

Tooru’s eyes burn red with his promise, and Hajime swallows thickly, his meal suddenly feeling a little too cold for his liking. His heart thumps in his chest, and Tooru’s eyes drop down as if he can see through Hajime’s clothing, staring as if he can see the blood flow. A pink tongue darts out over his bottom lip, and Hajime can see the tips of his fangs poking out.

Tooru is hungry, he knows this look all too well.

He’s ravenous for Hajime and Hajime alone, but Hajime knows that he’s safe. Tooru is a careful predator, a benevolent one, and by the end of the night, he’s going to be a puddle of his former self, completely lost in everything that is the ancient one before him. He’s at the mercy of a vampire, but sometimes, it isn’t the worst place to be.

“Bed,” Hajime begs out of habit, and Tooru’s face goes from hungry to wary, and Hajime wishes he could eat his words.

“Why take you to bed when I can just take your blood here?” Tooru tucks a piece of hair behind Hajime’s ear, his touch lingering long after he pulls his hand away.

“Somewhere comfortable, please,” Hajime tries again, and Tooru seems satisfied enough with the answer.

“Finish your meal, love,” Tooru whispers with a soft nudge, pushing the takeout back towards him. “Or I won’t finish mine.”

Hajime obediently finishes his food as Tooru goes over to the couch, waiting patiently for his meal to come to him. He starts to unbutton his own shirt, tempting Hajime, knowing that Hajime hates when he gets started without him, and Hajime scarfs down everything he can manage, pushing it aside and scooting the chair back. His heart is pounding in his chest and he starts to take off his own shirt, Tooru starting to giggle as he approaches the luscious, plush crimson loveseat.


“You’re salty from the sweat of the day, love, go clean yourself up,” He nods towards a hallway behind them. “First door on the left. I’ll be here when you get through.”

Hajime wastes no time throwing his shirt at Tooru to get rid of it, his brain muddled with the promise of the feed. It’s been a stressful week, he’s behind on rent, looking for any job he can manage to get with or without Tooru’s meddling, and he really needs the stress relief that comes with feeding night.

It sounds so odd to everyone he mentions Tooru to, sounds odd that he would look forward to having his blood taken, sounds odd that he loves the feel of the bite, loves the process of feeding. And maybe he is a little odd, but that oddity gave him Tooru, and that’s more than he could ever ask for.

He opens the second door to his left and walks in, closing the door behind him as he flips on a light.

His first thought is that he’s definitely in the wrong room.

His second thought is that there’s definitely a coffin in the center of the room.

He stares, as if the coffin will disappear the moment he blinks, like it’s a hazy fever dream brought on by the antiques of the apartment. But no, it’s a coffin. Not a table, not some decoration, but a full coffin, bigger than most, perfectly polished and maintained, dark black and shining in the hanging light in the room. It rests on a slab of sturdy wood and solid stone, a small set of stairs leading up to the platform that allows for someone to get in.

No bed.

Tooru doesn't have a bed.

Tooru’s apartment is vampiric.

Tooru sleeps in a coffin.

There’s a small noise of surprise that comes from the end of the hallway, then running footsteps, and Hajime is yanked out of the room by his arm, Tooru slamming the door shut and blocking it with his body. His expression is entirely fearful, in utter contrast to the predatory look he had been wearing just moments before.

“Is that a-”

“No,” Tooru dumbly denies.


“I told you my apartment was vampiric,” He says quickly, eyes narrowed, still blocking the door with his body.

“Yeah, but I assumed it was just the black, red, and all the antiques,” Hajime’s eyes try to peer past him, as if he can see through the door. “You really sleep in a coffin?”

Tooru deflates, and Hajime becomes hyper aware of how harsh his words have come across.

“A man of my age needs the back support,” Tooru half-jokes, his voice dry. “Now come on, don’t let this ruin the ‘I am going to devour you’ mood, I liked where it was going.”

He tries to push Hajime along, but Hajime stands firm.

“Can I just see it one more time?” He asks, and Tooru looks like he’s considering the fate of the world. “I promise I don’t think it’s weird. Just surprising. I’ve never heard of a modern vampire…”

He cuts himself off.

Tooru has never been a modern vampire. He’s always been ancient, always kept a twinge of the past in his attempts to be modern. He has a full kitchen that costs more than Hajime’s entire apartment, a flatscreen, a love for 1920’s burlesque, and antiques worth more than the building itself. He’s a vampire, a proper vampire, and Hajime was in the wrong to assume anything less from someone as proper and truly ancient as his boyfriend.

Hajime licks his lips, “Is it comfortable?”

“It is,” Tooru answers slowly, his eyes scanning up and down Hajime as if he’s trying to analyze him, trying to see through his skull directly to his brain.

“Can I see it?”

“Hajime,” Tooru whines.

“Please? We’ve been together all these months and I’m still learning things about you, can I please see your coffin?”

Tooru grumbles but opens the door, looking a tad bit embarrassed and anxious, like he had been in the elevator earlier. In that moment, Hajime realizes that this is what Tooru had been nervous about; Hajime thinking he’s weird, odd, disgusting. He had been scared of Hajime fully realizing he isn’t human, a monster, something undead.

“Here it is, you’ve seen it, now let’s go-”

“Can I see the inside?” Hajime asks, and Tooru’s face falls flat, frustrated. “Please? I want to see this side of you, too.”

Tooru sighs and marches up to the platform, pushing the top off like a crypt to reveal dark red bedding, a pillow, and a green alien plushie, the one Hajime had gotten him for his whatever-th birthday, laying on a neatly tucked in blanket. Tooru makes a gesture to show it off, and then starts moving the lid back on, Hajime stopping him.

“What now-”

“I want to see if it’s comfortable,” Hajime reaches his hand in and hovers above the blankets. “Can I touch it?”

“It’s coffin bedding, Hajime,” Tooru chews on his thumb nail as he steps down, speaking as if Hajime knows what that feels like.

“Is that a yes or a no?” He genuinely asks, and Tooru sighs.

“One feel, and then we go back to the feeding.”

A small smile starts to twist Hajime’s lips. “Sure thing.”

He dips down and presses both hands into the soft bedding of the coffin, the material velvety and luxurious, more comfortable than any bed that Hajime has ever slept on in his entire life. He whispers a praise of awe and wonder, and starts to climb in, Tooru turning white.

“What are you-”

“This is comfortable, and you wanted to get back to your feeding,” Hajime smiles, and Tooru groans.

“Hajime, I’m not feeding on you in my coffin.”

“Why not? You’ve fed on me in my bed so you can’t say that it’s because you sleep here.”

“Hajime,” Tooru drones out in defeat, looking over Hajime as he patiently waits inside the coffin, holding the alien plushie in his hands, trying his best to look cute and appetizing. “Fine. But the alien and the pillow have to go.”

“And the blanket?”

“It’s easier to wash if there’s overflow,” Tooru steps back up onto the platform and looms over Hajime, and it’s times like these when his height and his presence are absolutely terrifying. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. You’re the first mortal to ever get into my coffin, you better be honored.”


Reality sets in, and Hajime is fully aware that he’s in a vampire’s coffin with said vampire, and that vampire is hungry. That vampire has also been waiting all week for this feed, counting down the days until Hajime’s plasma is back up to par, back to being healthy, back to his liking.

He’s in his boyfriend’s coffin, about to get fed on.

His heart races in his chest, and Tooru fits himself between Hajime’s open legs, leaning over him as he runs his hands over the hot flesh of Hajime’s chest. And it’s not that Tooru has ever been cold, but vampires do run a little colder than humans, and a hungry vampire that has none of the warmth from a fresh feed is always a little jarring to touch. Hajime shivers, and Tooru sends him a watchful glance, his eyes once again filling out red, like ink in water until they slowly overtake all of the warm, safe brown of his human form. His fangs poke out and he licks his lips, looking over Hajime’s body like he’s trying to decide where to bite first.

He takes Hajime’s arm and kisses the palm of his hand, his eyes never leaving Hajime’s gaze as he works his way up, leaving a trail of light kisses along the way. Each one is more electric than the last, and Hajime starts to grow impatient the more Tooru takes his time. Each kiss could turn into a bite, each sweet kitten-lick against his skin could become beautifully sharp.

“You are a little salty, love,” Tooru hums against his skin, tasting him before pulling back, Hajime not having gotten the chance to clean up like usual. Then again, none of this is their usual. “But your blood is going to cover that.”

He sits back and pats his lap, encouraging Hajime to sit up on his knees in the space available, who freezes when the coffin lightly shakes. Tooru smiles broadly and pulls him closer, their faces inches apart, and his grin is less than sweet or simple.

“This coffin has survived many earthquakes, I don’t think it’ll fall for us, love,” Tooru buries his face in Hajime’s neck, and Hajime shifts in Tooru’s lap, his hands resting on the edge of the crypt, Tooru leaning his back against it as he nestles in deep. “You smell so sweet, Hajime, you’re going to taste marvellous tonight.”

“If you ever decide to bite me,” Hajime feels Tooru chuckle against his skin, a wet tongue and cold fingers tracing his veins and down his back.

“Where do you want me to bite you, love?” Tooru asks like he’s giving Hajime a choice, but Hajime knows that Tooru will damn well bite him where he pleases. Fortunately, it’s where Hajime always pleases, as well. “Neck, arm…” His fingers hook around Hajime’s belt loops. “You know how fond I am of that spot on your inner thigh.”

Hajime pleasantly shudders at the thought and Tooru grins, his words sticking to the spots he had licked, Tooru teasingly blowing on them as they slowly start to dry.

“Neck first,” Hajime decides as Tooru works his belt. “We can get to that spot later.”

“Oh?” Tooru’s hand slips under the fabric of his jeans, the other holding his lower back. “Expecting something, Hajime? Perhaps more than one bite?”

“Stop teasing and just bite me, Tooru, please,” Hajime half-begs, Tooru’s lips ghosting across his skin. Hajime’s body tenses with every press into his neck, but Tooru refuses to bite, and Hajime knows that it’s all because he’s begging tonight.

“Hmm,” Tooru hums, giving Hajime’s ass a small squeeze. “I think I’ll give in, bite that spot I like so much. Everything off, Hajime, I want to devour all of you tonight.”

Hajime quickly leans back in the coffin and slips his jeans and underwear off, already harder than he had been when he first got into the stupid box. But with Tooru looking at him like that? How could he not be turned on? His touch, his tongue, his lips, and his bite.

Hajime has never known heaven, but with Tooru, it’s damn near close.

Tooru has an incredible sense of control, one to be feared, admired, and even more so in the bedroom. Hajime doesn’t know how he does it, doesn’t know how he can make Hajime lose his mind at his mere touch, yet makes him beg and plead just to get Tooru to do so much as feed for his own survival.

It’s the hunt. This is Tooru’s hunt, and Hajime is his favorite prey. Prey he can touch and kiss and feel and fuck. Prey that obeys his every command, prey that he can play around with. Hajime is Tooru’s perfect meal, and the hunt is always more than just a feed.

Tooru lifts Hajime’s leg to make room for himself, the space in the coffin limited but not impossible. It’s custom, of course, made for sleeping, for dwelling, not for burial. It could never fit the both of them when it’s closed, but with the lid open and Tooru looming over him, grabbing at the soft flesh of his inner thigh and looking for a pulse, they fit perfectly.

“Looks so tasty,” Tooru mutters to himself, running a finger over one of Hajime’s veins, all the way up to his crotch. His eyes find Hajime’s arousal and his grin widens mischievously. “But I hope you don’t mind me tasting a little more, Hajime.”

Tooru raises Hajime’s hips up and rests him on part of the blanket, Hajime trying to make room by swinging his leg over the side of the coffin, opening himself up as much as he can for Tooru. Tooru’s fingers dig into his thighs, right over the vein he loves too much, and he mouths at it, his other hand stroking Hajime’s cock with a delicate touch.

His tongue works over the vein, lips pressing to feel where the pulse is the strongest, and Hajime shamelessly moans, knowing that it’ll be for Tooru’s ears only, praise that the vampire’s prey is coming apart like he wants, like he so desperately needs. Tooru’s hunt is give and take, and as much as he takes, as much as he feeds, he’ll always give just as much back to Hajime.

His fangs graze across his skin, his tongue gets close to his cock, and then both retract, moving back to the vein with normal teeth.

The anticipation is killing him, and he just wants to punch the dumb ancient bitch in the face.

Tooru’s languid tongue moves upwards, away from where it needs to be and towards where it needs to be, mouthing up and down the entirety of Hajime’s length with an excruciatingly slow speed.

“Fuck, Tooru, please,” Hajime whines, throwing an arm over his face, casting a frustrated gaze towards the ceiling. “Please just do something with your mouth.”

“I can dirty talk until you’re desperately trying to get yourself off, cumming around your own fingers as I whisper sweet nothings,” Tooru offers, and if Hajime wasn’t so desperate, he might have considered it.

“Suck something, Tooru, please, blood, my dick, I don’t care anymore, just do something,” Hajime begs, bucking his hips up for emphasis.

He’s never this needy. Hajime knows how to keep his composure, knows how to work Tooru until Tooru is begging him for everything, something, anything, but tonight? Tonight Hajime is pure willing prey, and he intends to act as such.

“You’re so impatient, Hajime,” Tooru tuts. “But if you really want me-”

“Dammit, Tooru,” Hajime grabs a fistful of Tooru’s hair and leads him back down to his cock, flushed red and just waiting for Tooru’s anything to help. Okay, maybe not fully submissive prey, but he’s about to be completely fucked out and sucked out, and that’s about as close to prey as he gets. “Please, Tooru, I need you.”

His face and neck run red as his words turn needy, whiny, something pleading and pitiful, and Tooru gives a small laugh, lightly swatting his hand away only for Hajime to take it again, his grip lighter. He needs to be prey tonight. He needs Tooru to treat him as such. Not his boyfriend, not his soulmate, his beloved, his human, but his satisfaction. In bed, as food, he needs Tooru to use him until he’s high on plasma and they’re both too blissed out to move.

“I’ve never had prey as demanding as you are,” Tooru says, fully understanding the terms of the night, knowing what that neediness asks of him. He spends no time wrapping his lips around Hajime’s cockhead, Hajime sighing with relief as Tooru sinks further and further down.

“I’ve never had a vampire be such a tease,” Hajime’s vision blurs when his cock hits the back of Tooru’s throat, Tooru making no sound of discomfort, not even so much as a choke.

Hajime has never thanked the fact that vampires can hold their breath for so long more than he does whenever Tooru’s pretty lips are stretched over him, tears in his eyes, small threats of a gag, and a promise that by the time Tooru does take a breath, Hajime is going to be a mess in his hands.

Tooru pulls off and shifts his body to a better position, quickly sinking back down over Hajime, gagging enough to need a moment before moving again. He bobs his head up and down, spit slicking the motions and dripping down Hajime’s length, filthy beads of spittle pushed down Hajime’s shaft and Tooru’s chin with every move.

Tooru moans around him, and Hajime just about melts right then and there, the vibrations rumbling throughout his entire body like a calm thunder, lingering in his fingers and toes as Tooru takes him and moans like he’s the sweetest treat in the world. Maybe he is. Maybe it’s just showmanship.

Tooru always compliments his blood, speaks so highly of it that it makes Hajime feel like the most special person with the most common blood type in the world.

But his blood is Tooru’s, and he’s proud of that fact.

A thought seems to pass behind Tooru’s eyes and he pulls off with a wet pop, his eyes burning bright red as he continues the motions with his hand.

“Think you can come for me twice tonight?” He pants, and his tongue flicks out and laps at the dribbling precum that spills out of Hajime’s slit. “I want to feel you come around me when I finally take your precious blood.”

His hand moves off of his cock and traces the vein again, Tooru staring in wonder as the plump vessel pulses under his touch. The pressure of the vein, the sudden abandonment of attention, the promise of the feed. Hajime would agree to almost anything Tooru has to say right now, just for some kind of release. He opens his mouth to speak, but Tooru beats him to it.

“I’m afraid I want to make a mess of you, my dear.”

He says it so quietly Hajime almost misses it, but it echoes in his mind like a broken record playing his favorite song.

“Please,” Hajime breathes out, and Tooru’s small smile only widens before taking him again, eyes fixated on Hajime as his pink lips once again stretch over him, his gaze unblinking as he watches Hajime fall apart. Hajime can’t keep his hands still, his lips twitching with every pant, eyes clenching shut and opening to try and catch a glimpse of the vampire around him.

A tight coil, burning bright, Tooru winding it up more and more with just his mouth. A mouth that can make Hajime come undone in more ways than one, and every swallow around him, every tiny moan, every glimpse he gets when he dares look at Tooru brings him closer to the edge.

Tooru goes all the way, claws lightly running down Hajime’s thighs, and Hajime comes undone, for the first time that night. Tooru knew what that little trick would do, knew exactly what he was doing, and he pulls off just enough to catch all of Hajime’s release but not choke himself entirely, Hajime spasming in his grasp. Tooru holds him still, his tongue collecting everything, the suction of his swallow guiding Hajime through his climax.

He comes down, crashes, and Hajime has never been more glad to be in a coffin, Tooru’s skills enough to nearly kill him. He’s a panting mess, writhing around in pleasure, Tooru already off of him and unceremoniously climbing out of the box, rolling onto the platform.

“Heh,” Hajime laughs out as Tooru pushes himself up off the platform, the entire process of getting out graceless and awkward. “You get out of bed like that every morning?”

Tooru sends him a glare, but Hajime is still too floaty to care. His breaths start to even out as Tooru undresses completely and collects things for the feed, for before and after the feed. He climbs the steps and sets everything aside, taking his spot back where he was, lightly slapping Hajime on the thigh.

“In my lap, Hajime, it’s easier if you ride me.”

Hajime is up in a matter of seconds, Tooru uncapping a familiar bottle of lube that Hajime only sees when their private feedings take place out of the bedroom, and squirts some onto his fingers, warming it up as Hajime positions himself.

“We haven’t done it this way in a while,” Tooru offhandedly mentions, his fingers finding Hajime’s entrance. “You’re so obedient for me tonight, love, do you really need the feed that bad?”

Hajime can only muster up a nod, and Tooru blinks, staring up at him with the stars in his ruby eyes before looking down and lining up his fingers. He easily gets two in, Hajime doesn’t stray far away from beforehand prep, just in case feedings end up like tonight, and Tooru is hardly surprised at the ease that comes with the initial plunge.

Instead, he brings Hajime more into his lap, taking his lips and letting Hajime taste himself on Tooru’s tongue, his claws gone like his fangs, but his nails still long enough to make Hajime squirm. Tooru curls his fingers like an expert, and Hajime’s chin falls into his chest, a deep breath falling out of his mouth.


Tooru takes his lips again, brushing against the spot in ways that make Hajime moan into the kiss, swallowing every breath he has to give. Hajime turns breathless quickly, trying to keep up with Tooru’s fingers, the familiar stretch, and the aura of patient hunger that starts to exude off of the vampire under him. Tooru removes his fingers, satisfied with his work, using the excess lube that had dripped down his palm to coat his entire cock.

“Come here, my love,” Tooru orders softly, and guides Hajime into position, letting him slowly sink down at his own pace. This may be Tooru’s feed, but he still needs to be gentle with his prey, needs to be careful so as not to break the fragile human.

And Hajime can be fragile sometimes, not all the time, certainly not tonight, but he’s tight around Tooru, and he feels somewhat fragile, knowing that he’s already teetering on the edge of overstimulation and pleasure, still waiting for Tooru’s thrusts and bite.

But he knows Tooru is a gentle monster, knows that no matter what happens, Tooru would never hurt him, would only ever take care of him, show him love and tender care. Another kiss as Hajime sinks further down, but it isn’t heated, isn’t filthy, isn’t needy. Tooru kisses like a promise, and he uses his hands to roam over Hajime, hips experimentally moving as they try to find a common pace.

Hands up and down his back, lukewarm fingers and bright red eyes. Tooru tastes like him, tastes a little like peppermint, tastes like his takeout, tastes like home. Hajime moans into Tooru, hands finding hair and threading through strands, lightly tugging until the vampire is moaning back.

There’s a sort of inexperience in the way Hajime kisses, it’s raw and messy, even when it’s passionate. Tooru kisses with the ease of a master, but he lets Hajime control it, takes everything with matched skill, with matched passion. Their kiss is a little blurry around the edges, and Hajime feels himself growing closer and closer to the edge, Tooru setting the pace as he pulls away from Hajime’s mouth and catches his breath.

Hajime can see his fangs poking out of his parted lips, and he grinds down the moment Tooru thrusts up, meeting perfectly, Tooru using the moment that Hajime curls into himself to moan to fit his head in the crook of Hajime’s neck. His lips press against Hajime’s skin, the temperature difference like an icy fire, and Hajime clenches his eyes shut, trying to slow enough to keep still for Tooru’s wandering tongue, his meandering lips.

They graze and suck and trace his neck, looking for a vein, looking for a pulse that he already knows the pinpoint location of. Hajime tilts his chin and sighs right into Tooru’s ear when he grazes over the pulsepoint, and he feels Tooru smile against his skin.

But he won’t bite, not until Hajime is on the verge of climax, the pleasure one gets from a loving, gentle, caring bite the final straw in what puts him over the edge. A vampire’s bite injects emotion, as Tooru describes it, and the minute fangs enter skin, Hajime will feel Tooru’s everything, and Tooru will indulge in the same.

Hips meet thighs, a hand holds him in place while the other gently strokes him, and Hajime closes his eyes, face hot and flushed red, chasing after the oncoming promise of everything they both so desperately need. Fangs on his skin, waiting, lips slurping and sucking patiently.

“I, ah, fuck,” Hajime swallows. “Tooru, I’m close.”

“I know,” Tooru speaks against him, and Hajime can feel the fangs return. “You ready, Hajime?”

“Mm,” Hajime hums, and the bite is blinding.

It’s white, hot, covering his eyes like a prophetic vision, his everything muddled and fuzzy. He’s never sure if he makes sounds during the bite or if he’s just slack jawed, riding Tooru through the intensity of his electric bite.

There’s nothing but burning pleasure and the catharsis of Tooru’s emotions, arousal, excitement, hunger, predation, love, deep, deep love. There’s faint slurping in his ear, thick warmth dripping down his chest and back, and he can feel the iron grip that Tooru has on him, holding him in place as he gets his fill.

Pleasure. Immense pleasure. Tooru’s pleasure, his own pleasure, and then…

“Fuck,” Hajime groans, the headache slamming him like he’s a ragdoll in a concrete tumbler. “Fuck, Tooru, hurts.”

An understanding hum, a few more sips, and Tooru runs his tongue over the wound, Hajime wincing at the bitter sting, Tooru continuing to clean him up and lap at the spilled blood that coats his front and back. The wound slowly starts to close up, and Tooru licks his lips, his mouth a mess. His eyes are wild and his pupils are blown with the high of the feed, his cleaning job of licking Hajime something of a moot point, the blood spread around and turned into a collection of tongue swipes and mouth prints.

Hajime’s shoulder throbs, his head dizzy and body heavy, the catharsis quickly turning into a splitting headache and an aching body. But Tooru will take care of him, as always, and he can rest assured that he’s going to spend the whole night being pampered, kissed, and cherished, like every feed, every night spent with Tooru.

He comes down, and Tooru is already calmly massaging his muscles, still tasting the last liquid rubies on his lips and chin.

“You okay, love?” Tooru asks quietly, and Hajime nods, Tooru running a hand through his sweaty hair to get it out of his face. His fingers trail down to Hajime’s cheek, and he runs his thumb over the skin, Hajime falling into his warmed touch. “Tired?”

Another nod. Hajime isn’t confident in his ability to speak, but he’s confident that he’s tired, exhausted, quite literally drained.

“Do you want to bathe or nap first, love, we can do either,” Tooru is careful when he asks questions during aftercare, especially when Hajime is the one especially in need of it. Gentle, through and through.

A careful predator. An ancient vampire.

“Wanna stay like this,” Hajime decides, leaning on Tooru, feeling Tooru’s cum drip down his thighs. He scrunches up his nose, and changes his mind. “I’ll sleep in the bath.”

“I can’t get up until you get off me, dear,” Tooru chuckles out, Hajime knowing damn well that Tooru can pick him up with one arm and drape him over his shoulder if need be.

“You fucked and fed on me,” Hajime leans back. “You can at least carry me.”

Tooru playfully rolls his eyes with an overexaggerated sigh but ultimately complies, like always, effortlessly plucking Hajime up out of the coffin and easily stepping out while standing. Hajime smiles at the notion of having a vampire boyfriend that would do anything for him, that this ancient creature is so easily controlled by a mortal, but that’s just what Tooru is; a gentle, caring, loving monster.

He carries Hajime out of the room and a dumb light shines behind his eyes, Hajime feeling one of Tooru’s quips coming on. Tooru sets Hajime down and grandiosely shows off the dark oak door to the bathroom. He preemptively rolls his eyes, but holds onto him in a hug, Tooru’s warmth more than comforting.

“First door on your left, Hajime, I knew you’d get there eventually.”