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It was dead silent outside. The silver moon that shone faintly through the window could only reveal a young man’s rising figure and the messy sheets he rose from. Still hugging the pillow, he sleepily turned his head at the back of the room to find an empty bed, much more ordered than his own. Someone who was meant to be there wasn’t, but as he squinted, the man found that a faint light could be seen from under the door to the bathroom. At the same time, he could hear movement from the other side of the walls.
“Vanitas?” He called out with a groggy voice, making the faint sounds of rustling fabric pause for a moment.
Then, he walked closer towards the door with the intention to knock and ask the person inside whether he ate something that upset his stomach, but his hand froze midair before it could land on the wooden frame. As he leaned closer, he could smell a familiar, sweet scent coming from the other side.
Blood. But not just any blood; this was the uniquely alluring scent of Vanitas’s blood that he was so familiar with. He found his mouth involuntarily salivating, forcing him to gulp before he could even process what was happening. His partner’s wounds from their previous fights must have reopened while he was out and about late at night.
“Go back to sleep.” A harsh voice commanded him from beyond the door.
“Are you alright?”
“Just go.”
It was no surprise to Noé that he was being pushed away, as this had been how Vanitas treated him since they met. Always trying to break things off when push came to shove. So, of course, this time as well, Noé refused to listen.
He turned the doorknob with force, expecting it to be locked, and was surprised to find that it wasn’t, which made him enter the bathroom in an unnaturally zealous way. Once inside, Vanitas was so startled he almost screamed.
“I told you to leave me alone! Why don’t you ever listen to what people tell you?!”
“I could say the same thing about you… But, Vanitas, are you alright? Did your wounds open back up?” Half concerned, half asleep, Noé asked.
“I can deal with it myself!” Vanitas didn’t turn to look at him, and simply kept wiping the blood from his abdomen with an irritated expression.
“Don’t be like that.” Noé walked closer and picked up a few bandages. “You already woke me up, so I might as well just help you.”
Vanitas just groaned in response, knowing he wouldn’t back down.
As Noé helped wrap his wounds with clean bandages, that sickeningly alluring scent nearly became unbearable, all while Vanitas’s humiliation from receiving help and his fear of the vampire’s true intentions made his moves turn almost abnormally rigid. They both tried their best not to let their discomfort show, but they could clearly guess what the other was thinking, which made the silent mood around them heavily awkward.
“...”
“...”
Each passing minute felt even longer, and thus, Noé finally spoke up to lighten the mood. “What were you doing out so late at night?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Vanitas answered icily, and Noé’s smile froze in response.
“Why are you always like this?” He sighed. “I’m only trying to help you!”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“You don’t have to ask, I don’t care about what you think.”
“...Just stop being so nosy!”
“Don’t tell me what to do! I already told you I’ll do what I want!”
With each remark, their voices got louder and their faces closer; a classic display of their usual bickering. However, Noé couldn’t keep arguing for long. Not while the meal on display before him was so incredibly tempting. He was already used to not freely indulging in blood consumption due to the nature of his powers, but the sight of the other man’s open wounds, the way he kept getting dangerously close, only to push him away, and the lingering sweetness of the scent… it was all far too much! What’s one poor, blood deprived vampire to do?
Well, obviously, pin the weaker man up the vanity and against the mirror. That was Noé’s immediate answer, at least, and Vanitas could only let himself be manhandled, in shock. He couldn’t speak. What was there to say?
Noé also froze, not knowing why he did that, or why it made his pulse quicken, his blood boil and his mouth water. He opted to follow his instincts at that moment, and his instincts took him straight to the other man’s neck before he finally felt a struggle.
“Stop!”
A hiss. A glare. Various kicks. They took Noé out of his trance before he could actually get close enough to release the tension.
Vanitas was always snarky and irritable, but never quite as serious as when it came to the topic of Noé drinking his blood. He’d always give him the same displeasing answer without fail, and he was always dead serious about it. Noé knew better than to insist, so he always backed down. But this time… it was particularly tough to.
“I won’t do it. I won’t draw blood.” He swore.
No words; no answer. Vanitas was adrift in reluctance, in fear. This was the one thing he couldn’t take chances with, something he could definitely never leave up to blind trust. Yet… what was that feeling? That strange heat that always lingered? That compelled him to disobey and act in repulsive ways, and that now, too, pushed him to lean his head back slightly, just enough to allow Noé easier access, as if hinting him to keep going?
Disgusting.
Truly, utterly revolting.
The vampire’s fangs grazed only slightly against the sensitive skin of Vanitas’s neck, and instead of sinking in, his tongue took the place to thoroughly wet the area, almost as if preparing the terrain and readying it for the bite.
The human was scared shitless that Noé might really do it. He’s right there, he might as well… He could really pierce through at any moment. Vanitas felt how Noé longed for it, and for both it was maddening. The way the vampire’s lips caressed its prey, gently, with care, but with urgent desperation, his hands pulling him closer by the hips…
A sound escaped Vanitas’s mouth without warning. It was a pathetic sound he didn’t think he’d ever make for anyone other than Jeanne. Worst of all was that he wasn’t even being bitten this time, yet it still felt so… intoxicating. Perhaps equally as much as when the girl he loved had sunk her teeth into his skin. How infuriating. Why did it feel so good?
On the other hand, Noé kept pushing forward with enough force to trap Vanitas in his grasp, but with enough awareness to not actually tear through the other man’s thin layer of skin, the only thing keeping him from uncovering the truth, from knowing everything about the man he had decided to follow; the one he was so curious about.
How he wished to just taste the divine liquid straight from the source. How he wished he didn’t have to see the other person’s memories when drinking their blood. If only that wasn’t an issue…
He didn’t need to know, he just wanted a taste. He could swear that really was the case, but deep down…
How he wished he knew.
He was certain this distrustful, apprehensive man would never tell him anything. Sure, perhaps he had his reasons, and it was none of Noé’s business, and he should not pry and simply let it go, but if only it were that easy. The barrier of skin was not the only thing preventing him from drinking Vanitas’s blood. There was another, thicker barrier keeping him at bay, one that always showed itself whenever he tried to create a deeper connection with the man that sought revenge. Maybe this is why Noé disliked him so much. Even when Vanitas was so close, at just a bite’s distance, he always managed to appear so far, so beyond reach.
Once he realized this, Noé finally yielded and pulled away from the other man. Both were panting and gasping, faces flushed and nearly sweating. Vanitas had now stopped his struggle, but was unsure what to do next, as was Noé. How is one supposed to recover their composure in this situation?
There was no way, none other than the one Vanitas had always used: running away. So he ran. Past Noé, past the bathroom door and out the window, off to who knows where once again. Noé was left all by himself, staring at his disheveled reflection. He stared and stared, but his thoughts were still elsewhere.
His mouth was still tasting Vanitas, still craving him, and his mind still reminded him of what he had seen, the proof he had left on Vanitas’s neck, right above Jeanne’s pink rose mark. It was certainly no mark of possession, it could obviously never compete, but Noé had left a mark himself. More of a bruise than anything, but it was there after he pulled his lips away, he had seen it. He had not gotten to taste Vanitas’s blood as he desired, and he still knew nothing about the man, but seeing that mark made him feel as though he had partially accomplished some kind of goal of his.
Why that was, he did not know. But for that night, Noé slept soundly.