Chapter Text
When Kirishima sees him for the first time that night, it’s across the floor at a dirty club, long past lockout, with the music thumping in his ears creating a rhythm that sends his head spinning. Without even looking at the time he knows last drinks will be called soon, the music would shut off and the bar staff will start shouting. But they weren’t quite there yet, there is time. Enough time for his gaze to shift down the blonde’s body as he leans against the wall, giving Kirishima an almost clinical look over. He pokes his tongue out his mouth and swipes it over his teeth and Kirishima’s knees are weak.
Of course, this is not the first time that Kirishima has seen the bombshell (and how could he not compare him to one? He is the walking incarnation of an explosion), it’s almost become a game between them- the stares, the hungry looks. As if they’re in a competition as to who would break first, would snap and approach the other. Kirishima thought he might win, might be able to drag him out to the dancefloor but with the look he’s giving him now, Kirishima doesn’t stand a chance. But neither does he, not if he has anything to say about it.
Kirishima shoots him a dirty smirk before continuing to dance in the crowd, slowing making his way towards him, his heavy gaze stalking his every move. The blond smiles and Kirishima knows he has him. Has him in the fucking bag, he could already taste the sweat on him, could smell…
Jesus he’s fucking hungry.
The blond is new to town. That Kirishima is sure of. He had moved recently, and this game they’re playing is driving him insane, the way they stare at each other, the way it made heat pool in his stomach, he is certainty fresh meat, and he is already obsessed. He is new and beautiful and basically everything Kirishima could ever want in a person, or a snack. Maybe both? He hasn’t really decided yet.
He slowly pushes his way through the crowd, forcing apart couples in a way that’s almost dangerous in a darkly lit club like this. But he doesn’t care, because his eyes are still on him, staring him down as he approaches. The quirk on his lips still there, like he knows that’s he’s won, and Kirishima has broke. It’s the first time he’s ever willingly given up, but he can’t even bring himself to care, because the blond is right in front of him and it’s open season.
He doesn’t say anything, just reaches out and pulls him in close, close enough that he practically forces him to match the movements of his hips and legs, of the way that he rolls his body, and then they’re dancing and fuck it’s never felt like this before. Kirishima can feel every touch on his skin, as if he’s been zapped by electricity, or Kaminari’s magic. He gently presses his face into his neck as the blond practically grinds into him and the room is suddenly too hot, and the music is once again too loud. The thumping matching the pace set by the heart in his chest and fuck does he smell good, does this feel good.
His teeth (yes teeth, who the fuck called them fangs anymore, seriously) strain against his gums, begging just to bite down. To taste him. He had to get out of here, preferably now. Preferably with the hot bombshell of a blond following him.
He would take all of the above if possible.
He drags himself away, only slightly, giving himself some room to breathe. To gather his thoughts and make sure he doesn’t explode right in the middle of the fucking club. He smiles down at the man still in his fucking arms and he growls in response, low and deep. The sound goes straight to his pants and he really has to fight down a moan because holy shit is this guy even real?
He shoots a smirk again, because he saw the way the guy reacted earlier - the way he shifted his stance and narrowed his eyes - and pulls away completely. Quirking an eyebrow, he gestures towards the side door, as if to ask if he was coming, was he game enough to follow? The message must have been received because he shoots him a feral grin.
Kirishima forces his way through the club and out the side door, the glowing green exit sign illuminating the space, the blond just on the edges of his vision, following the path he cuts through the club. Who cared about lockout when this guy is giving him looks that made him quiver and his movements against him are downright dirty?
Suddenly an arm reaches over him and fist lands on the brick next to his head, completely stopping his movements and forcing him back onto the dirty outside of the club, his face pressing into the brick and holy shit this shouldn’t feel as good as it is.
The blond presses into his back, his mouth right next to his ear, close enough that Kirishima can feel his breath on his cheek. And the interest in his pants. “Where the fuck, do you think you’re going?” His voice so deep it almost cracks from the stress.
“Now,” Kirishima licks his lips, twisting his head so he could almost look the blond in the eye. “Don’t be like that, maybe I just needed some air.”
He growls and swings Kirishima around, forcing a leg between his. “Well now, that you have your air,” he says, face so incredibly close it hurts. “What the fuck are you going to do?”
It’s not the best line, way to his cliché for his usual liking (creativity is a must). And he’s pretty sure this really doesn’t count as flirting anymore, closer to straight up threating, but shit if it doesn’t do things to him.
Kirishima drags a finger up the side of his face before yanking him in closer. “This,” he whispers before crushing their lips together.
And fuck it’s so good, the way that he moves his mouth, his tongue pressing in just the right way – the thing he does with his chin. Fuck he can’t even think straight – thoughts looping in his brain like radio feedback. And the pressure from the knee between his legs is still there and he’s quickly losing control.
And on top of all that, he smells absolutely delectable and Kirishima just wants to sink his teeth into him. To taste his blood as the blond took him raw.
He’s so fucked.
Kirishima breaks away with a hiss, “what’s your name?” He asks.
He doesn’t particularly care for the answer if he’s being honest, it just seems like the best question to ask in this situation and the best way to get him to come back to his apartment so they could continue this in a more private space rather than the alleyway next to a club.
“Bakugo,” He’s panting almost as hard as he is, red rising across his cheeks as he leans into Kirishima’s neck. He so alive and it almost burns to look at, full of a fire that Kirishima doesn’t possess. He doesn’t give a first name, Kirishima thinks that’s weird but he leaves it – too preoccupied with the way he’s mouthing down the side of his neck.
“Well, Bakugo” he says, “wanna come back to mine?”
Bakugo pulls back and looks at him and smiles, it’s almost maniacal and slightly alarming and Kirishima is absolutely smitten with it. “Fuck yes.”
The first thing Kirishima notices when he wakes up the next afternoon, evening, night? Is that the blackout curtains are firmly closed (thank fuck that was a headache he really didn’t want to deal with). The second thing he picks up on is that his bed is empty except for him, empty and fucking gross. And finally, he’s definitely tied down. And he definitely can’t remember that happening last night. Which means-
“Fucking finally” Bakugo leans against the door in nothing but black boxers that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. “The vampire awakes.”
Oh fuck.
“Oh fuck,” he says, straining against the restraints immediately. They’re tight and Kirishima is very concerned that he had managed to sleep through it, normally he’s a pretty light sleeper – he is a light sleeper, and he’s not entirely sure how he wound up this situation.
Bakugo smirks, “oh fuck indeed.” The look he gives Kirishima is dangerous, and it makes his throat go dry.
He practically saunters over, pushing himself off the doorframe and sitting himself down on Kirishima’s lap, running a hand up his chest. “You are all just so easy to pick out, with your blood red eyes and wicked teeth, you should learn to hide those by the way, they’re a dead giveaway.” His hands run lower and lower and Kirishima’s breath hitches. He’s way to ridiculously turned on for what’s happening right now, and he knows that Bakugo knows it. “You know your kind don’t breathe when you’re distracted? It’s like you just forget that’s something you’re supposed to do.” He continues, “by that stage I know I have you in the bag. Easy fuckin’ pickings.”
Easy fucking pickings his ass.
“Now,” Kirishima strangles out, “let’s not do anything hasty here. Surely we could come to some sort of agreement?”
He doesn’t really know why this is happening, or what Bakugo wants from him – and he’s getting some major mixed signals from this conversation. What he needs is a motive, and some way he can exploit it.
Bakugo runs his hands back up, flicks at a nipple and Kirishima moans. Seriously, fuck his life. How the fuck does he wind up in a situation like this? “Oh, surely not,” Bakugo says. “You’re a fucking dumbass if you haven’t figured out what the fuck I am yet.”
And it clicks.
Fuck.
“Hunter,” Kirishima hisses, lips pulling back over his teeth like a reflex.
“Hunter.” Bakugo confirms.
Seriously, Kirishima thinks (not for the first time in the span of a very short time period), fuck his life
“What the fuck do you want,” he snarls, completely flashing his teeth in what his friends would call as a show of dominance and what he refers to as, holy shit please don’t fucking kill me.
Bakugo shifts slightly, pressing down in all the wrong places and suddenly it’s hurting more than it’s turning him on and Kirishima is certain he’s done it on purpose. “Isn’t it obvious? Your head. On a plate.”
Kirishima continues straining against his bindings. He thinks he can feel a knot coming loose but he really couldn’t be sure. Not yet. “You can’t kill me,” He pants. “I haven’t killed anyone; it goes against your code.”
And it’s true, despite considering it- he really hasn’t killed anyone. At least not recently. And vampire hunters generally only go after serial offender vamps. The guys that stay in one place and prey on the town till there’s almost no one left.
Kirishima is certainty not one of those guys thanks, he happens to actually like the people in this city too much for that.
“Fuck the code,” Bakugo snarls and suddenly there’s a nice cold hard wooden stake against his chest and fuck he really could die here like this. What a way to go, he would never hear the end of it from Kaminari. “What about all the fucking disappearances hah,” he pushes harder and Kirishima feels winded. “I know it’s fuckin’ you, I’ve been following you all fucking week. You’re the only vamp in town.”
Kirishima starts to panic, proper panic. This is the first time he’s heard of disappearances, which is unusual because this is his city, but Bakugo is wrong, he’s not the only vampire in town, but maybe he’s just the most obvious. “Look man, I really think you got the wrong guy here. This is my home why would I be killing people?”
“I don’t know, you tell me. Why are you killing people?”
He’s getting sick of this conversation, and he really doesn’t like getting accused of shit he didn’t even do. He didn’t even know people were disappearing and he makes it a habit to know close to everything, his friends keep him very updated on what’s happening in the underworld. What the fuck is this guy even going on about? And why does it have to be a problem that impacts him?
But his bindings are rapidly weakening and Bakugo is distracted by the conversation. He wants to say rookie move but he doesn’t.
The rope snaps under his hand.
And Kirishima lunges.
By pure surprise he manages to grab Bakugo by the waist, throwing them both off the bed with an unnecessary amount of force but he figures he can apologize for it later, assuming he lives through this. Kirishima lands on Bakugo with a hard thud and a crack where his elbow hits his chest in the fall- echoed by the bounce of his head against the floorboards. If the puff of air is anything to go by, he’s pretty sure he’s winded him.
Unwilling to make sure he’s okay, mostly because he’s afraid Bakugo is faking it, he forces their position until it’s completely reversed from how it was before, with Kirishima pinning him by his wrists, his knee firmly pressed into his stomach – hard enough that even the thought of moving would theoretically hurt.
The fight was over even before it started.
“Gotcha,” he smirks and Bakugo tries to push back, struggles beneath him in a way that would probably win against an ordinary person, but Kirishima is not ordinary. “Now explain to me what the fuck is going on.”
As if sensing that maybe he’s lost, Bakugo nods – his movements tense, perhaps ashamed in his defeat, or cautious in how to proceed. “Alright,” he wheezes and Kirishima feels bad, he didn’t actually mean to hit the guy that hard. “Fuck, lemme up.”
“Are you going to attack again?”
“No.”
Kirishima lets him up.
Bakugo stands across from him in the kitchen (fully dressed by now, thank fuck because Kirishima really doesn’t think he could have a serious conversation in their boxers), backing himself against the cupboards as Kirishima blocks his exit – done only a little bit on purpose. He’s rubbing at his chest absentmindedly, as if still in a little bit of pain, but not enough to actually acknowledge, Kirishima knows without even checking that it’ll leave a deep bruise, the kind that sticks around like a bad smell. He honestly didn’t mean to elbow him, especially that hard, but what kind of vampire hunter allows themselves to be caught so off guard? Another rookie mistake.
He goes to grab and icepack from the fridge for him, but Bakugo flinches back the second Kirishima moves.
Kirishima sighs heavily, breath leaving his nose in a huff, already frustrated with whatever weird game they have going on. “I’m not gonna bite.”
Bakugo laughs and gestures to the two small puncture marks in his neck, a product of the escapades the night before and he’s right, Kirishima needs to work a little harder at being more discreet. “Oh, fuck off with that bullshit.” He says.
Kirishima blushes, his face probably matching his hair if he cared to check in the hallway mirror. “I meant that figuratively.” He whines.
“Whatever. Let me go.”
He raises his hands in defense, moving further into the doorway. “Hey, wait just a minute!”
Bakugo frowns, nose crinkling in what Kirishima would almost describe as disgust. “No.” He pauses, “Let me go.”
And really, he’s half tempted to just let him leave, to kick him out and agree to never speak of today again with anyone. A black blotch on both their lives. They’ve established that he isn’t the murderer and honestly there’s no reason for Bakugo to be here anymore.
But he also doesn’t want his location revealed to other hunters. A lot of them don’t give a shit about the stupid code they have and would come after him on pure principle and he really doesn’t want to move again. It would be just as easy to kill Bakugo and get it over with.
But Bakugo says there’s a vampire in town, one hungry enough to draw attention to itself in the worst way. Which means it’s not any of the vampires Kirishima knows. Which means it’s a threat to everyone.
Fuck.
“Hey man, let’s just talk about this for a second.” He really wishes he could just kill him. It would make his life so much easier. “You did accuse me of murder after all, I think I’m owed an explanation.” And if Bakugo really wanted to leave he probably could have by now, it’s not like Kirishima would have put up much of a fight.
Bakugo snaps his fingers, snap, snap. “There’s a Vampire, it’s killing people. I thought it was you – I was wrong end of story.” He takes a step forward, Kirishima takes a step back and his grin is wicked. “Now let me go.”
“How many of you are there?” Kirishima asks.
He raises an eyebrow and it’s brutal- doing things to Kirishima’s heart that it really shouldn’t considering the situation. “Many, and they know where I am so don’t try anything.”
Fuck. “Fuck.”
His laugh is feral, dirty and he knows he’s won. “Fuck indeed – let me go.”
And he’s panicking, only a little bit – but still panic. “No way! If I let you go who’s to say I’m not gonna get swarmed by hunters.” He gestures dramatically around the room – “I happen to like living here! I don’t want to leave.”
"Not my problem.”
Well, Kirishima is about to fucking make it his problem, because he’s got three possible solutions and none of them are good. Method 1, he kills Bakugo here and now. Method 2, he lets Bakugo go and he tells his hunter friends – and Kirishima has to make a run for it. Or finally, he clears his name, proves his innocence and he gets to stay, undisturbed until the next fucking disaster to befall on his life.
Plus, Bakugo thinks it’s him. Which mean other hunters might come to the same conclusion, making his life seriously difficult. He would have to kill the other vampire if he wants to clear his name. Only if Bakugo doesn’t just kill him the second he lets his guard down, which knowing his luck, wouldn’t be long from now.
He’s quickly warming up to the idea of option three. But it means he’ll have to track the rouge, and hand it over to the vamp hunters on a silver platter and maybe then, they’ll let him go.
And as much as he would hate to admit it, it’s easier to work in a team when tracking a rouge vampire, it’s a known fact.
Which means he’ll need Bakugo’s help.
“Look,” Kirishima says rubbing the back his head, already regretting his decision but really not seeing much of an alternative. “I’m going to help you. Because I want my name cleared. This is my home. I don’t want to be chased out.
“I don’t need your fucking help.” Bakugo snarls.
Kirishima puffs up at his attitude, eyes flashing red. “Well it’s not fucking about you! People are dying and I’m getting accused!”
“Not my problem,” Bakugo is still grasping at his chest and Kirishima is only feeling a little worried about it, it seriously shouldn’t have hurt that much.
“Dude c’mon. I just want to clear my name, if I don’t I’ll have more of you chasing me around for years,” he knows he sounds whiny, like an idiot but honestly he just wants to live his life in peace, and this seems like the best way to do it.
He can see Bakugo’s resolve cracking, in the way that his face tenses up as he considers his options, in the way that he rubs his knuckles, harder and harder with every movement. They both know that the only real option is to let Bakugo go, and team up to find the rouge vampire. It just makes sense.
So Kirishima is confused as to why it’s taking Bakugo so long to come to this conclusion.
"Look man,” he sighs, “you need my help, no one knows the supernatural community here like I do and if you wanna find your killer, I’m your best bet.” Bakugo scowls at him and he raises his hands in defense, “or, I could just let them kill you when you go snooping, either way it’s a win - win situation for me.”
Bakugo groans, “fine, fine! You can fucking help or whatever.”
Kirishima lets out a whoop and punches the air.