Archive of Our Own

He was hearing things, that had to be it. Sure he had enhanced hearing and all but there was no way there’d be something, or heaven forbid someone , making a noise like that at this hour. 

It was not even six in the morning, Kento had been working on some paper and had asked Satoru if he could run to the combini to pick up some coffee after his eyebags grew even deeper and Satoru, being the ever-loving and perfect partner he was, happily agreed with a kiss to his cheek. 

Now though, he was regretting going out alone. Not that he thought he was incapable of protecting himself but more so… 

What if it was some stray dog or cat? Satoru didn’t know if he’d be able to stop himself from feeding if he saw blood and he had promised Kento, crossed his heart and all, that he wouldn’t hunt anymore. 

The same rustling noise alerts him again and Satoru pouts, readjusting the bag of canned coffee in his hold and sneaking ever-so-carefully to the back of the alleyway that the source of his curiosity was coming from. 

“Hello?” Satoru calls out, waiting for a response, whether it be a voice or a mewl or something . 

He’s met with nothing and it makes the pout deepen, nose burning at the smell wafting through the alleyway as Satoru moves further in, stopping in his tracks when he sees it. 

Not even it, him , a man, half-dressed and partially hidden behind the dumpster. He isn’t dead, which Satoru is grateful for, nor is he injured, but he looks.. lost. Scared, even. Not to mention, he’s shirtless and in torn-up slacks in the middle of the night in January no less. He doesn’t even need Kento here with him to hear that scolding, stern voice of his, getting onto this mere stranger for putting himself into an unsafe situation. 

Which reminds him…

“Wait here.” Satoru instructs, not that he thinks the man is about to get up and run in any case, what with the way he stares him down like a deer in the headlights.

“Satoru?” Kento’s voice sounds tired, even through the phone “You didn’t get lost, did you?”

He snickers, “You wish. Actually, I’m calling because there’s a bit of a situation. And no, I didn't scare anyone again!”

There’s a beat of silence followed by what Satoru recognizes as Kento’s mumbled complaining, the kind of complaining Satoru is usually the cause of, “Are you hurt?”

“Heh, no. But… I think this guy is. He’s in nothing but pants and he looks like he’s been mugged or something.”

“...Send your location. I’ll be there in ten.”

Satoru is, honestly, more than relieved that Kento was coming to help. There was only so much he could do himself when it came to situations like this and he had been known to startle more than help; unlike Kento who managed to appease and fix every situation there was. He sing-songs a goodbye before dropping his location to his partner, immediately turning his attention back to the man who hadn’t moved as much as an inch during his entire phone call, and honestly, Satoru isn’t even sure if he’s blinked. 

He crinkles his nose in confusion. How can someone even end up in a situation like this? Sure Satoru has been in his own fair share of unfavorable circumstances, prior to meeting his Kento, but that was because people went after him with wooden stakes and guns blazing. This guy, on the other hand, looked timid as they come; like if Satoru coughed he would jump out of his skin. Not to mention, he was frail and pale, almost sickly so, and his glasses were askew on his face. 

He looked… pathetic. Yet, it piqued Satoru’s interest. 

“Let me guess.” Satoru hummed out, snickering when the man does in fact jump at the sudden interruption of silence. “You got mugged?”

The man doesn’t respond verbally but simply shakes his head, turning away to stare at the same spot on the dumpster, and Satoru’s nose crinkles when he smells it again. 

“Eugh, it smells like wet dog.” Satoru grimaces, lifting his sunglasses to perch on his hair as he cocks his head in the man’s direction, “Do you smell that too?”

Of course, there isn’t a response. Satoru is pretty sure the man sinks further behind the dumpster to conceal himself and it pulls a pout from him. 

Did he just radiate some kind of aura? One that screamed, “Hey, I’m a blood-sucking vampire who attacks innocent bystanders that look as though they’ve been attacked”? 

Media and their damned portrayal of vampires, honestly, it wasn’t as though he was always on the prowl like that. Especially not towards someone who looked like that . 

“Satoru?” A familiar voice calls down the alley, singlehandedly washing away the feeling of hurt and replacing it with relief that help is finally here. His knight in shining armor, or, well, sweat pants. 

“Over here.” He calls back, gesturing towards the splash of black hair that peeks out from the dumpster. 

Kento places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes before venturing towards the man, slowly holding out a hand to reach for his with a gentle smile, “Are you alright? My partner told me you were hurt. Do you need any help?”

The man shakes his head and Satoru pouts again, “We’re not going to kill you or anything. You look awful.”

“Satoru.” Kento quips, turning to shoot him a glare before focusing back on the man who has moved further out from the dumpster so he’s directly beside Kento. “Would you like us to call someone? Or take you to a hospital-”

“No!” 

Satoru nearly jumps at the shout, surprised to hear it coming from the timid man that hasn’t spoken even a little bit since he found him. 

“S-Sorry! That was- I’m, uhm, I’m fine.” He meekly gets out, body all but curling into itself as he slowly moves to push himself to stand, swaying when he makes it to his feet and crashing into Kento who catches him quickly. “It’s fine. Honest.”

Somehow, Satoru doubts that. Seeing as though the man finally decided to make an effort to speak and stand up at the prospect of going to a hospital. Or maybe it was because Kento was finally here. His pout deepens and he moves closer to him and Kento, eyes moving up and down to examine him and the scent of wet dog growing even stronger when he’s this close. 

“Kento, do you smell that?”

He’s met with a raised eyebrow and a shake of a head, all his attention focused on steadying the man who practically shakes in his hold, and Satoru sniffs again with a grimace. 

“It, uhm. Well-”

“Go on.” Kento encourages softly, finally finding a better hold on him as he begins guiding him in the direction of his car.

The man looks directly at Satoru before his gaze shifts downwards, “It’s probably me.” 

Satoru’s nose crinkle returns full force, turning to meet a confused Kento that directs his raised eyebrow to the man’s direction instead, “Beg pardon?”

“Last night was a full moon.” He states as though it’s common knowledge. 

Ah. Well, that certainly explained it. 

“Are you…” Kento begins, waving his hand as though considering how to word his question, and Satoru snorts a laugh, effectively stopping him mid-contemplation.

“You’re a werewolf, aren’t you? Explains the smell and why you look like, well, that .” He snorts again, gesturing to his timid expression, “And why you were scared to come near me.”

The man grimaces, “I’ve dealt with enough vampires in my life, I didn’t need to deal with one more after the events of last night.”

“Ah, c’mon now puppy.” Satoru teases, watching the way the man shoots up and turns bright red so marvelously, “I’m not gonna hurt you. I think whoever attacked you did a good enough job of that.”

“I wasn’t attacked.” The man whispers. “I was… Adamant on not being around anyone before nightfall and may have been too aggressive in my attempt to flee.” 

Satoru exchanges a glance with Kento and shrugs, pushing his sunglasses back down to the bridge of his nose and glancing to see the sun slowly starting to peek up in the horizon. 

“Come home with us.” Satoru responds cheekily, already turning to Kento’s car, “Kento can patch up your wounds and I can show you that not all vampires are cold-hearted bloodsuckers. And maybe you can show me that not all werewolves are smelly little dogs!” 

He can hear Kento voice a complaint but he doesn’t turn around to hear the rest of it, moving instead to hide in the safety of Kento’s car — with tinted windows that he so graciously made sure to apply after Satoru voiced wanting to accompany him on car rides more often — before the sun can fully rise. 

The puppy is even more jittery when they make it home, eyes darting around him as he examines the kitchen like he’ll be attacked at any moment. 

Satoru finds it infatuating. 

Kento gets onto him. 

“You’re going to scare him.” He scolds, pulling the guest room door to so their guest can sleep when he’s done being bandaged and fed. “Stop being a menace.” 

Satoru frowns, “He’s fun to tease! All scrawny and jumpy… Looks like a-“

“If you say anything vulgar about our guest.” Kento scolds, not even bothering to finish the scold when Satoru knows where he’s going with it. 

He settles for sulking instead, bottom lip jutting out and eyes darting to the door. “Can he stay?” 

Kento’s eyebrow lifts precariously, “I thought you didn’t like werewolves.” 

“I don’t,” Satoru states, and he doesn’t. They were mangy and smelly and jerks. “This is a puppy.” 

He watches as Kento’s jaw sets and he can’t help but smirk in satisfaction.

“You saw the way he ate dinner! All meek mild, practically begging you with his eyes for more from your plate. Calling you ‘sir’ so casually”

His partner huffs, shaking his head as he turns on his heel and moves to the living room to finish his work. 

“Kento, you gave up your office for him because he looked that pathetic.” Satoru continues, following behind and plopping next to him on the couch. “Admit it. He’s a little puppy.” 

Kento opens his file, “The fact of the matter is he’s injured. He’s staying with us until he’s rested up and healed and then I presume he’ll return home.” 

Satoru moans pathetically, throwing himself against Kento’s lap in a dramatic fashion. “But Kentooooo!”

His partner ignores him, flipping through his file and eyes scanning the page. 

“Didn’t you always say you wanted a dog?” 

That gets his attention. 

Kento sets the file down and turns to glare, eyes sharp from behind his glasses. “I wanted a labrador. Not an injured and scared werewolf just so you can jump on him the second he’s out of bed. Stop being a minx and let me work.” He nudges him up and off of his lap. “And do not bother him.” 

Satoru opens his mouth to retort when a rolled-up newspaper meets his backside, causing him to yelp before he stomps away. 

Stomping all the way to the spare room, eyes peeking in through the cracked door to see the puppy sound asleep in bed. Chest rising slowly and lips puckered so sweetly, almost as if he’s waiting for a kiss. 

Oh… Satoru is going to lose his ever-loving mind. 

Satoru’s lust doesn’t die down. 

If anything, it increases at a rapid rate; the glances and smirks sent towards the puppy turning him a bright shade of red that only eggs Satoru on more and not even Kento’s well-pointed glares and well-placed hand can pull him away. 

It wasn’t just because Kiyo-kun looked delectable in his disheveled state, not one bit, because after his needed nap and shower, he looked far from the same wrecked being he had taken home. 

For one thing, he was nowhere near as pale as before, a nice contrast to Satoru’s porcelain complexion. He also had piercing eyes, analyzing Satoru’s every move as he bounded from Kento’s office with plates of food back to the living room. 

And after Kento had patched him all up, Satoru noticed the final damning detail. 

He was very, very attractive. 

In a small, geeky, “keeps to himself” introvert kind of way. 

The polar opposite from Satoru’s own boisterous self and Kento’s introverted behavior, a more timid and scared of any living thing kind of introvert. 

By the time Satoru delivers breakfast on the third day, Kiyo-kun looks good as new: scars healing nicely, glow returning to his cheeks, food actually being eaten and not pushed around as to make pretend. 

“You look better.” Satoru muses from the door, marveling when Kiyo-kun doesn’t jump. “Kento did a good job.”

He’s met with a small humming noise, fork scraping the plate, “He did. I feel better.” 

There’s a comfortable silence that lingers after that, Satoru intently watching Kiyo-kun eat and Kiyo-kun’s cheeks puffing up as chews and it’s the most endearing thing Satoru has ever seen. 

Kento always scolded him for watching people eat, saying it was ‘creepy’ and ‘made people uncomfortable’, yet he can’t help but stare. And he doesn’t think Kiyo-kun minds, not when he glances over in between bites and sends a small smile. 

“It’s delicious.” 

“I’d imagine so.” Satoru nods, “From what I’ve seen, Kento is incredible in the kitchen.”

Kiyo-kun nods in understanding, taking another bite, letting the silence permeate. 

Satoru watches until the plate is empty, eyes trained and unwavering, and then breaks the silence with the first thought that pops into his head, the one that had been teasing him for the past three days. 

“Do you always…”

“Run off on the full moon?” Kiyo-kun finishes, setting the plate onto the end table cautiously. “It depends. Sometimes I do, when my nerves are a flight. Other times I stay home and lock myself in. It’s easier since I live alone.” 

He pouts, not too keen on hearing that precious Kiyo-kun has to manage himself during the full moon and that he lives alone; for one thing, it was lonely. Satoru lived alone long enough to know that companionship was the one, single thing to keep a person from going crazy. For another…

“You don’t seem to take very good care of yourself.” 

Kiyo-kun bristles, hair practically standing on end and lips perking out inquisitively, “It takes a lot out of me…”

“Not even that, puppy. You just look… scrawny. And pale. And mangy. Like a puppy.”

The bristling amplifies at the name, flushed cheeks following behind, “Why do you insist on calling me puppy?”

Satoru leans in close so his fangs are pressed snuggly against Kiyo-kun’s neck, smirking into the warm skin, “Because-”

“Gojo Satoru.” 

He pulls away with a pout, turning to meet a blazing Kento in the doorframe, “I wasn’t going to do anything bad!”

“You were being cheeky and that’s bad in itself.” Kento rebuttals, crooking a finger to wave Satoru over. “Leave our guest alone. ”

A semblance of an argument crosses Satoru’s lips, the need to rebuke and complain that Kento is being unreasonable and unfair and unsexy right now, but he doesn’t even need to.

“Ah, he was just coming to collect my plate and I mentioned feeling warm.” Kiyo-kun pipes up, Satoru’s head snapping in his direction. “He was feeling my temperature for me.”

So, Kiyo-kun had a naughty side it seemed…

Kento makes a face, one that shows he doesn’t entirely believe the statement, but lets Satoru off with a pointed glare. 

“Kiyotaka-kun, if Satoru here bothers you whatsoever, come fetch me. I’ll be sure to deal with the matter post-haste.” 

Kiyo-kun nods in agreement, handing his plate off to Satoru who takes it and waltzes to the door, not before placing a wet smack of a kiss onto the man’s cheek that causes his face to turn from pink to scarlet in seconds flat.

It’s worth it, Satoru muses as he snickers on his stomach later that evening, the sting in his ass still prominent; he would get in trouble time after time if it meant riling up both his puppy and his lover. 

It’s late when Satoru comes home, fingers ghosting for his key as he ever-so-quietly unlocks the door and sneaks in. 

All the lights are out and Satoru frowns, hating that Kento and Kiyo-kun are probably already asleep and he won’t be able to talk with them until morning. Nighttime always went by so slowly.

He nudges his shoes off and leaves them beside Kento’s polished ones and Kiyo-kun’s scuffed ones before traipsing towards Kento’s room, feet gliding on the floor and fists shoved deep into his pant pockets. 

His hand is grazing over the doorknob when he freezes in his tracks at muffled laughter, a dim glow of a lamp illuminating the hallway.

Satoru smirks, “You’re up late.”

The door pushes open to reveal Kento sitting with his back against the headboard and Kiyo-kun in between his legs, gentle hands dutifully pressing into his shoulders as soft music encases the room. 

“Kiyotaka had a fever.” Kento hums, hands not pausing in their ministrations. “I ran him a cool bath an hour ago.”

Kiyo-kun looks up sleepily, eyes hazy, “How was your evening, Satoru?”

“Fine. Shoko can still drink an entire bar.” He sits beside Kento, resting his head on his leg and reaching to rub a hand up and down Kiyo-kun’s thigh. “Suguru says ‘hello’.”

Kento nods, moving to massage lower, “Did you get into any trouble?”

“No mother .” Satoru grumbles, flipping onto his back and laying his head completely onto Kento. “It was one time, would you let it go?”

Laughter fills the air, a soft sound that should make him more upset than anything but instead fills him with happiness. 

“Kiyo-kun, you’re so cheeky!” Satoru warbles, “Kento! Don’t let him laugh at me like that!”

He’s met with a shrug, “I think it’s warranted.” 

“Backstabbers.” 

The laughter morphs into a snort before it cuts off entirely, Satoru shooting up to see Kiyo-kun with his hands blocking his cherry red face (and when is it not red at this point) and Kento staring with wide eyes at the man between his legs. 

The laugh is a stark contrast to the typical anxious presence that permeates from the werewolf situated between Kento, looking far younger and far less stressed than he had been all those days ago when he accompanied them home. 

“I apologize, that was so rude-”

“Nonsense.” Kento interrupts, hand coming to cup his cheek and smile almost blinding Satoru, “He makes it easy to tease him, doesn’t he, puppy?”

Satoru is going to pass out. 

He’s honestly expecting Kiyo-kun himself to pass out, really. 

What transpired in between dinner and Satoru returning home was obviously something more than just idle chatter caused by a fever. He’s surprised he didn’t notice it before: the red of Kiyo-kun’s face is on par with the red that occupies Kento’s own cheeks, a delicious blush that Satoru longs to have himself. 

He’ll settle for admiring theirs instead.

But that was beside the point, considering the pet name Satoru had adopted and used enough to drive Kento mad was now being used by Kento himself. What happened between them, first of all, and second of all…

“Move over.” Satoru whines, nudging Kiyo-kun further against Kento’s leg so he can nuzzle up against the vacant one, head resting against the puppy’s shoulder as he cranes back enough to meet Kento’s eyes. 

The conversation is unspoken, a single glance and subtle nod, and when he glances back to confirm with Kiyo he’s surprised to see the latter looking moments away from falling asleep comfortably right where he is. 

Perhaps it was a case of the “Kiyo-kun” effect, Satoru had deemed it after that first encounter that left him utterly fascinated. 

Or perhaps, Satoru mused as he watches Kento’s hand continue its ministrations despite the fact that its receiver is more asleep than awake, this is just how things were always meant to be.

Vampire hunter. Vampire. Werewolf. 

It isn’t until the next morning that Satoru brings it up, Kiyo-kun still asleep, presumably sleeping off his unexpected fever.

Kento sips his coffee with a shrug, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“First of all, you were cuddling.” He starts off, finger tapping the table. “You were smiling, without seeing me suffering! You called him puppy , Kennie!”

There’s a shrug. A long sip of coffee. 

“What happened while I was out for drinks? Is this just my sign that I should never leave you ever again!?”

That stirs a reaction. Kento sets his cup down with a sigh, reaching to flick Satoru’s forehead before the same hand pats against his with a soft smile. 

“You’re whipped!”

“I am not “whipped”, brat.” He argues yet the smile doesn’t fall. “Kiyotaka is just very… charming. He insisted on cooking dinner despite being feverous, you know. You could learn a lot from him.”

Satoru huffs even when Kento squeezes his hand and smiles brightly, such a rare yet lovely sight. He even opens his mouth to tell the other man exactly what else he could learn from him when there’s a stirring in the doorway, their attention immediately diverting to the third party that awkwardly idles in front of them. 

“Good morning.” Kento is the first to greet, raising his cup, “There’s a fresh pot if you want some. How are you feeling?”

“F-Fine.” The stuttered response shows anything but, yet no one voices a complaint or a concern. “I apologize for last night, Nanami-san, sir. I don’t typically get fevers so unexpectedly unless…”

He trails off, typical anxiety and jitters returning as though his calm nature from last night never existed. 

And Satoru wants to press on it. He wants to get more from Kiyo-kun, to know more about him — he was an ex-salaryman, he had perpetual anxiety about almost everything, he was a werewolf, and he was apparently a good cook. That’s really all Satoru knew. 

Yet there was so much more to him, it was like they had just learned about the surface layer of Kiyotaka. The casual business introduction side of the man who absolutely fascinated Kento and him. 

“No need to apologize. You are more than okay.”

Just like that the calmness from the previous night is back as if all it took for Kiyo-kun to come into the kitchen and sit beside them was that confirmation. 

Satoru takes the opportunity to look at Kiyo, eyes scanning for any remaining tenseness or uneasy thoughts, and is more than pleased to find none. He smiles as big as he can in response, fangs almost flashing in an impish manner. 

“What Kento means to say is he did not mind taking care of you one bit, Kiyo-kun, dearest. In fact- OW! What the shit!?”

“Go pour Kiyotaka some coffee and stop being a pain in my neck so early in the morning, Satoru.” 

The soft smile he’s met with is more than enough to ease the throb of the handprint indentation that blossoms on his thigh.

“It seems there’s going to be a full moon tonight,” Kento announces mid-afternoon, and Satoru nearly gets smacked in the face when Kiyotaka shoots up in his lap. “That should be lovely.”

“N-No…”

The two of them look over at the same time, Kiyotaka already pulling himself up and off the sofa and moving a mile a minute in a panicked frenzy. Far more panicked than in his normal state.

“I have to- I can’t- Tonight !?”

Satoru reaches out and holds him by his shoulder, “Kiyo-kun.”

He instantly gets reminded of that day two weeks ago, that early morning with a disheveled Kiyotaka who had run amuck in the night to keep himself far from others during the full moon. Hurting himself, hiding himself away in the process. 

Frankly, Satoru understands the panic. 

It wasn’t too long ago that he himself would do the same when it came to feeding; breaking into a blood bank to acquire a bag, pandering from Shoko-san, even hunting despite how ill he felt. It was easiest to go it alone when it came down to it.

But that was before he had met Kento , had found someone who, for once, didn’t make him feel the need to hide away from anyone or alter his needs for his sake. 

Kiyotaka-kun had that too, even if he didn’t realize it himself. 

“You’re fine.” Kento coaxes, moving towards the couch so he can guide the panicked man back down, hands resuming their gentle massaging from the past night. “You don’t have to be in this alone.”

“I do. I can’t… sir, Gojo-san, I seriously-” He presses his face so firmly into his hands that Satoru is almost impressed he doesn’t suffocate. “It’s so very dangerous . I mean, I hurt myself in the process and I cannot fathom the thought of harming either of you when I do turn, I just-”

“Kiyotaka.”

He looks up, eyes glossed over, “I can’t. ‘m sorry, sir.”

“And I can’t accept that.” 

This time, it’s Satoru’s turn to look up. 

Kento had always been stern, stubborn, going out of the way to make sure things ran perfectly according to plan. It figured that Kiyotaka’s departure would be treated exactly the same. 

“You can’t continue to run and hide from the inevitable and unavoidable, Kiyotaka. It’s one thing to not disclose that part of you but to hide away from it? Hide in general? You’re not benefiting yourself. We offered you a place to stay because we cared for your well-being, despite already knowing that you were a werewolf. Let us help you through this, Kiyotaka.” 

The sincerity that oozes out of Kento is almost nauseating, so intense, and it makes it all that much easier for Satoru to find his footing in the conversation. 

“You’re not a burden.” He hums, “You’re special to us. You’re our puppy.” 

Kiyotaka frowns, “I don’t… You won’t mind?”

“I’d be more upset if you left,” Kento admits. 

That seems to do the trick, seeing as though Kiyotaka resigns himself to melting into the offered embrace. 

“Then… I wish to stay.” 

Despite Kiyotaka’s fears, the full moon passes with almost ease. 

There’s the hassle of him turning and needing to be practically restrained in the guest room, Kento by his side the whole night, and Satoru at the door on guard, but otherwise, it’s nowhere near as dire as the werewolf made it out to be. 

It’s almost like his extreme nerves were the cause of all the issues rather than the change itself. 

When the sun rises, it doesn’t take long for Kiyotaka to come back down. Smaller, more fragile, so very shy. 

Not even all the coaxing can fully get him out of his own head. 

By the time it’s reached mid-afternoon, Satoru has had enough. 

They’re circling back to that first day again: Kiyotaka locked away in his room, Kento scolding him for getting near, and Satoru just wanting to slap Kiyo-kun silly for getting himself all worked up again. 

“It’ll calm down with time,” Kento responds when he catches Satoru casting another glance at the still-closed door. “When Kiyo settles, we’ll discuss things then. Don’t stress him out any more than we need to.” 

What about Satoru’s stress, huh? The locked door only makes him want to run rampant and find a lone deer to feast on in a fit of frustration. 

“Now quit fretting, Satoru.”

Kento, the fucker, is fretting just as much if not more so than Satoru. His glances are more than obvious, jaw setting with each passing hour that Kiyotaka is locked away from the both of them, and Satoru is all but counting down the minutes until Kento ups and drags Kiyotaka out of the bedroom.

After the clock strikes 5 and he reaches his fifteenth glance, Kento moves.

Quiet, casually, eyes trained on the closed door and hand not faltering as it twists the knob and reveals a body curled up on the bed wrapped up tightly in a blanket.

He looks so small and pathetic, but not the same he had when he first accompanied them home. It’s a mental patheticness, one that oozes from Kiyotaka’s sulky frame and drives Kento to snatch the blanket from around him with a deadset expression. 

“Kiyo-kun~” Satoru sing-songs from the door frame as Kento deposits himself on the bed next to him, reaching to squeeze his shaking knee. “Why don’t you join us for dinner?”

There’s a moment of quiet contemplation before he shakes his head, body practically vibrating.

Satoru frowns. Kento squeezes his knee tighter. Kiyotaka gasps.

“Join us.” Kento insists, “Sulking in here all day will do you no good.”

“I’m burdensome-”

“Stop that, now. Unless you want me to spank the silliness out of you.” 

The threat manages to work, Kiyotaka curling in on himself and looking seconds away from fainting but not making any more ridiculous statements. 

“No one got hurt, not even you.” Satoru supplies, joining the duo on the bed and sitting with a quiet hum. “First time I fed around Kento I had to drink his blood. I’d say you’re fairing better than me, puppy.”

“But-”

“Stop,” Satoru says at the same time as Kento, albeit with far less sternness. 

Kento exhales, hand squeezing Kiyotaka’s knee once more before shaking his head, “Kiyotaka. You are fine . You’ve been holing yourself away for no valid reason and I won’t stand for it. What is going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

Satoru watches as Kiyotaka’s nervous energy morphs into squirms, his face contorting and feet rubbing together. The smell is different this time too, an entirely new scent that isn’t nerves or the usual werewolf-y scent he holds.

Kiyotaka shakes his head again.

The exhale Kento lets out is far louder this time and he nudges Satoru to stand. He obeys quickly, stepping away from the bed and watching with sheer amazement at how easily Kento maneuvers their third companion onto his back. 

“Satoru, can you go grab the spoon from the kitchen for me? I’m going to thrash Kiyotaka’s backside-”

Kiyotaka lets out a low whimper, one akin to that of an actual puppy, “W-Wait! I just feel horrid about my turning and how you had to waste so much of your day attending to me…”

When Kento lifts his legs, he whimpers again, hands moving to cover his face. 

“What did I tell you I would do if you said anything silly, Kiyotaka?”

“You said- But-” He sinks into the bed in a nervous squirm, resigning himself. “Yes, sir…”

Kento tightens his grip on his ankles and turns to Satoru once more, “Spoon, Satoru.”

He doesn’t hesitate to go fetch it from the kitchen, rummaging through the drawer and stilling when Kiyo-kun’s whimper rings out from the spare room. 

It’s a rather delicious, pathetic kind of sound if Satoru is being honest. 

That was the thing about Kiyotaka, everything about him was just that: deliciously pathetic. 

Part of Satoru wonders if Kento had been planning for this to transpire all day; it’d explain the domineering energy he had possessed all day and the entirely unfamiliar scent that made his stomach churn with several feelings. 

The position hasn’t changed when Satoru walks back in with the spoon, aside from Kiyotaka’s joggers being around his ankles, his pale bottom on display with dusty pink handprints decorating it, and his legs held even higher.

Kento doesn’t stop his assault on poor Kiyo-kun’s bottom either, just reaches his hand out for the spoon before snapping his fingers in front of him.

“Satoru, hold his hands.” He obeys, squeezing the palms and letting his thumb rub soothing circles against the back of his hand. “It’s about time this puppy gets tamed.” 

Red honestly was Kiyotaka’s color, Satoru decided.

Each swat with the spoon was met with a harsh tug, Kiyotaka’s body jerking and squirming, and more whimpers. 

Low, drawn-out, prolonged whimpers that echo in unison with each harsh swat that paints his legs and thighs a gorgeous shade of red. 

Maybe the cliche was right and vampires really did like red. 

He’s not even listening to Kento’s scolding — which is more so him calling Kiyotaka a “naughty puppy” than anything else — just watching the squirms with immense fascination. 

“‘m- ooh- ‘m sorry, sir.”

Kento is silent as the spoon continues its descent. Kiyotaka’s whimpers grow louder. Satoru is down so very bad. 

“What for?”

The spoon doesn’t even stop when he questions Kiyo-kun and Satoru has to tighten his hold on his hands. 

“S-Silly thoughts! Not a burden, sir, I’m- Oooh, ‘m so sorry.”

Satoru can’t help but run a hand through his hair, coarse strands plastered to his forehead from sweat. Kiyo-kun glances up at him with lidded eyes, lips puckered as he lets out more whimpers, and Satoru dares a glance at Kento. A silent exchange that his him hiking Kiyotaka’s legs up ever so slightly higher before landing two more swats. 

And then it’s all over; Kiyotaka nuzzling up against Kento the moment his legs are released and their third party joins them on the bed, leg practically shaking as Satoru scratches his scalp with gentle fingers. The room feels so calming and light, no negative scents to nauseate Satoru and even the twangy werewolf scent has become rather pleasant.

It’s all pleasant, having the puppy himself curled up against Kento and his head pressing up against Satoru’s hand to demand more head scratches. 

“I’d… still like to stay.” Kiyotaka whispers after his shaking subsides and he’s just breathing contently against them both, “If you’d let me, that is.”

Kento hums. “Of course, Kiyotaka.” 

“You are our puppy after all.”

This time Kiyotaka doesn’t whine or sigh at the nickname, simply exhales with contentment as he nods. 

Satoru was convinced: this was exactly how things should be.