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Tommi leans back against the wall, curling in tighter.
The trembling fledgling in his arms hisses, baring his fangs. They’re hardly different from any mortal’s canines, still short and dull. From what Tommi knows, the tiny mortal teeth must first fall out like baby teeth before the true fangs of a proper vampire can grow in.
The fledgling is soaking wet and covered in messy streaks of blood, the smell of rain and copper mixed together harsh on Tommi’s sensitive nose. He’d found him outside, alone and shivering in the soaked grass.
Tommi wonders how he’d gotten here. His den is so far from the prying eyes of the city, and the nests of territorial vampires. When he’d found him he’d nearly left him there. Vampires almost never took well to his presence, and as a lone wolf he’s vulnerable.
But something about how small he seemed, how he could smell the genuine fear rising off of the fledgling’s skin, had awakened something within him. An urge to protect, as if this newborn vampire were a pup of his own kind.
He’d approached him, a hand outstretched as if he were trying not to startle a stray kitten, his footsteps low. The fledgling had hissed loudly, the sound clumsy from his young mouth, but had cried and gone limp when Tommi had scooped him up, the mud and wet soaking into his shirt.
Tommi rumbles lowly, trying to soothe him. One of his hands reaches up to smooth back the ink of the young vampire’s hair back, the other hand rubbing circles into his back. The newborn is tense in his lap, frozen as Tommi touches him. He’s so cold. Tommi wonders if he feels the chill at all.
The rain is pouring down harder now, and the cold is starting to bleed through Tommi’s clothes. He looks longingly at the fire crackling in the living room, so far from where they’re huddled together.
He decides that he’s going to try to move them, his hands adjusting to support the fledgling’s weight as he folds his legs under himself. He moves slowly, as if the vampire in his den is a ticking timebomb, about to go off with any wrong step. The fledgling wails when Tommi starts to lift him up, trying to squirm out of his grasp, beginning to rile up like he’s trying to fight.
He may be a vampire now, with supernatural strength to match, but Tommi is stronger still. And the fledgling is weak. Tommi’s arms wrap around him firmer, fitting an elbow under the vampire’s knees as he rises, moving toward the warm glow of the fireplace.
He settles them down on the rug before the hearth as best as he can, though the fledgling seems to be determined to wriggle out of his carry. Tommi holds him still for a few moments, before he feels the body in his arms relax enough for him to let him go. Tommi leans in to sniff at the creature’s hair while he’s distracted by the dancing of the flames. Beneath the rain and tang of mud and grass and blood and fear, Tommi can smell hunger.
Before he can investigate further, the fledgling’s stomach rumbles. He cringes, clearly embarrassed, but Tommi sucks his lip. He has an idea that could warm the vampire up to him, but it’s risky.
Carefully, he lifts the squirming figure up to sit properly in his lap, facing his body. He leans his head to the side, baring the delicate skin of his neck. With his dull, still yet human teeth, he’s unable to bite to feed himself, so Tommi lifts a hand to his neck. He lets just enough of the Change to flow to his fingertips, enough for a claw to drag across his skin.
The scent of his blood reaches his nose, thick and metallic. His instincts prick at him, his animal brain starting to panic at the odour. The vampire – however – jerks in his lap, nostrils flaring, his pupils blown wide.
Tommi fists a hand in the fledgling’s mess of black hair, guiding him towards the bleeding wound in his neck. He fights against the restraint, but Tommi holds fast, keeping him still as he finally lets him latch onto his neck. He keeps him there until he starts to relax into the feed. Tommi rubs his back, nosing into his hair as the fledgling feeds on him.
When the fledgling is finally full, he laps at the wound, sensible enough to close the cut despite his age. He settles into Tommi properly, his flesh now warm against Tommi’s, and curls into a contented doze.