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Touya’s aware he could probably do less to earn the ire of people (and other creatures), but that’d be no fun.
He can’t deny one thing though—
It sure would be easier on him, and his physical form, if he did that.
He laughs as he leans his side against a tree, having run for long and fast enough to deplete his already decreasing energy further. There is a spreading pain at his core, and no wonder—the stake stabbed through his chest is a glaring reminder of the consequences of his actions.
Ah, the law of cause and effect. What a bitch.
“Fuck,” he swears, the grin on his face almost hurting his jaw in its wideness. He leans against rough bark before slowly, carefully, sliding down to sit his ass on dirt and grass. Pain radiates through his being the whole time he moves, and he curses the reality of his own immortality that makes him incapable of death, but very much capable of feeling pain (even if his pain tolerance is more inhuman than most).
He hears a few twigs break a few steps away, and sighs.
“If you’re lookin’ for a meal,” he says, looking up to find a fair-haired, red-eyed werewolf crunching twigs and grass as he heads his way, “then I wouldn't recommend it. And by it, I mean me—I don’t taste that nice.”
The werewolf only glares at him, unfazed. Touya wonders if he’s really gonna be someone’s late night snack—not that he’d make it easy, of course—and considers if it’d be a better way to go like this than to die at the hands of a couple of terrified humans.
Then, the werewolf says,
"I'll save you, so do something for me."
Touya blinks up at him, and laughs.
Here he is, his back to a tree with his ass to the cold ground, (metaphorically) dying more from hunger—that irritating, burning craving for the taste of blood—than the pain of being stabbed, and a werewolf actually dares to act like he's gonna do him a favor. For all that he hungers and aches, he's not so pathetic to beg for help from a halfling.
"I don't see how you could save me," Touya says, grinning. "Unless you came to offer your blood?"
Those red irises gleam bright and bloody under moonlight, and Touya's so, so damn thirsty. The werewolf says, "Obviously, that's what I'm offering."
"...hm?"
"I'm in rut," the werewolf says bluntly, his entire visage outlined by moonlight, making him look more ethereal than he ought to with his ripped clothes, the chains on his neck and wrist. Touya's seen werewolves in rut, more animal than human with their rage and unthinking hunger, but this guy looks calmer than most others even with the lines of anger in his furrowed brows, his taut jaw. He wouldn't have even figured he's in rut if not for...well, his honesty.
But that might just be his starved brain talking.
The werewolf adds, "If you drink my blood, it'll give me more control on my form."
Touya squints at him. "You can't just let yourself bleed?"
"If that was enough, I'd never have come to you," he snaps, ears twitching atop blond hair. "Fortunately for you , it's not. My body regenerates blood too quickly when it's lost naturally, or bled out—but your vampire saliva, from what I heard, slows that shit down so it'll drain me of my excess energy."
Touya blinks slowly, drinking in the sight of him. He doesn't look at all unsure about his offer, even with the risk of being drained dry. A hungry vampire is the most dangerous kind of vampire there is, given the desperation for blood, and more blood.
Or is he just that confident that he can take that kind of danger?
"I'll drink," Touya says.
The werewolf doesn't hesitate to unwrap the bandages on his other, unchained wrist, before coming closer and offering his bare wrist to him.
"Not your neck?" he teases, grinning with fangs out.
The werewolf rolls his eyes. "I'm not stupid."
"That you aren't," he hums, pressing a kiss to the pulse he can feel through warm skin. A heady feeling slowly but surely wells up in him at the feel of it, his eyes fluttering shut as he feels at the heartbeat with his death-cool mouth.
"Stop that. Just get to sucking," the werewolf says.
Touya opens his eyes to look up at him, then waggles his brows suggestively.
The werewolf makes a face in blatant disgust before shoving his arm further into his mouth. (He clearly doesn't like being teased, though Touya just finds that more entertaining for him.) Wolf ears twitching atop his head, he says with a scowl, "Drink already, you bastard."
Touya bites down promptly.
The werewolf makes no noise at his skin being pierced through, no hisses nor quiet breaths escaping him as he watches Touya drink. His blood is—
" S'good ," he groans, eyes falling shut once more as he savors the rich, metallic taste on his tongue. He usually drank from humans, from blood packs provided to him by his family, but he stayed away from were-blood given the taste of animal leaving a less than favorable aftertaste on his tongue.
This, though. It's...
"Just drink," the werewolf says, promptly cutting through his thoughts before he can drown in them.
So he drinks, and drinks. Quietly, mindlessly.
It feels like mere seconds have passed when Touya pulls away, his entire being singing with the thrill of being full for once. He'd drunk and drunk, yet the werewolf never stopped him on his own—he clearly wasn't joking about needing to be drained of excess energy from his rut.
"Thanks," he says, smirk feeling a lot more lively on his mouth as he pushes himself up to a stand. He pries out the moderately-sized stake that had been used to stab him in the chest, breathing out a sigh when his body swiftly heals itself using his renewed energy. The only sign left that he’s been stabbed at all is his torn top—which is inconvenient as hell, but he’ll fix it later. He sighs, "Mm, definitely didn't feel good to be stabbed."
The werewolf gives him an odd look, all while fixing up the bandage for his arm.
Touya thinks it's a bit hypocritical of him to find Touya odd when he's the one who’d offered blood to get rid of the effects of his rut than doing what's expected (that is, getting laid), but he doesn't mind it. Instead, he asks, "D'you make a habit of offering your blood to strangers, or was I an exception?"
"You were in a desperate enough situation that you wouldn't ask a lot of questions," the werewolf says frankly. His gaze is solid, almost palpable when he turns Touya’s way, and Touya decides promptly that he likes it. He goes on to add, "I hate nosy bastards, and you were convenient enough for me to try. That's it."
"Here I thought I was special."
"As if."
Touya smiles widely nonetheless. Though the guy's blunt and far too serious, Touya doesn't dislike it. If anything, he can appreciate someone who takes him seriously no matter what. He says, "So, are you gonna need my services again the next time you're in rut?"
The werewolf frowns, pausing midway from re-wrapping his bandage. "You're offering," he says as a statement, though Touya can feel the undercurrent of a question in it.
It’s interesting how he sounds wary now , when it’d have been best to be wary the moment he offered his blood to a stranger, and a hungry vampire at that. If anything, Touya should’ve been wary first; it’s too much of a good deal to come across a willing blood donor in the same moment he’d been heavily injured.
(Then again—Touya doesn’t really have much care for being wary, most of the time.)
He says, "You're gonna give your blood to me, I don't see how this is a bad deal for me in any way."
The werewolf doesn’t say anything in response to that.
"Unless you're thinking of how vampires don't usually mix with weres," he explains, "which is a valid concern. I usually don't, but your blood was good. I'd come back for seconds."
The werewolf grimaces at him. "Stop talking like I'm a meal."
Touya grins. "But you are. In both the literal and metaphorical sense."
The werewolf physically recoils at that, nose scrunched up in seeming distaste as he squints at him. It's such an exaggerated reaction to mere flirtation that Touya can't even feel offended, as he does just find it funny.
He adds, mostly to ruffle the guy's tail, "I'm saying you're hot—"
"Ugh! I liked it better when you were stabbed!"
"Ah, so you do like me in some way—"
"SHUT IT!"
Touya mimes a zipping motion with his hand over his mouth.
He watches as the werewolf finishes wrapping up the bandage around his bitten arm. Though he makes quick work of it one-handed, it's not sloppy; the way he wraps it isn’t too tight, nor is it too loose, and the smoothness of his movements lets Touya know that this isn’t his first go at it. The chain hanging from the manacle around his other wrist clicks and clangs with every rise and fall of his arm, and Touya wonders—did he escape from somewhere? Why does he have a collar on? Why hasn't he completely ripped it off yet? Where did he even come from?
What he actually ends up asking is,
"Your name?"
The werewolf gives him a long, cautious look, before saying, "Katsuki."
"Touya," he says in return, smiling as he completely skips over saying his family name. Most vampires forewent the whole surname deal in its entirety—using random ones at hand more often than not—given its uselessness in the face of (relatively) eternal life, but the Todorokis were a different deal, what with his old man’s strong attachment to legacies.
Touya doesn’t give as much of a shit about that, even if he will admit to using said family name just to stir up trouble at times; plus, it's only fair to omit his name given how Katsuki hadn't mentioned his own. He asks, "Will I see you again?"
Katsuki scoffs. "We'll see."
Not a definite yes, but not a complete rejection either.
Something tells Touya the tentative answer's leaning more to yes anyway, considering Katsuki's frankness so far in expressing his dislike for things (like with Touya's flirting, for example).
"I'll be waiting," Touya says. He likes to think the smile he's wearing is a mysterious one, but going from the deadpan look on Katsuki's face, it's probably not.
Well, whatever.
He gives a wave of his hand, and gradually fades from view into wisps of cool wind. Transformation—not disappearance or teleportation, as people mistakenly believe it to be—was a skill he'd honed late into adulthood, seeing as his younger self had deemed it a skill for cowards and disliked learning it.
He ended up learning anyway, if only for the ease of travel.
(He catches the way Katsuki's tail and ears perk up right before his physical form seemingly vanishes from the area, and grins.
That's one more reason to reconsider his feelings on transformation:
Being able to surprise certain werewolves, he thinks, is definitely a fun bonus .)