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The dimly lit room felt colder than usual, the oppressive atmosphere bearing down on the remaining players. They just finished playing mingle and Thanos and his group should be happy, but there was something off with Namgyu. Thanos leaned against the cracked wall, his sharp eyes fixed on the long haired guy, who sat slumped in the corner.
Namgyu’s hands trembled faintly in his lap, his usually sharp dark eyes clouded and dull. He was chewing on his lower lip, his fangs peeking out slightly as if he couldn’t resist testing their sharpness against his skin. His chest rose and fell unevenly, and his fingers fidgeted restlessly, twisting the hem of his shirt.
Thanos narrowed his eyes and strode over. “Namgyu, what the hell is going on with you? You look like you’re about to fall apart.”
Namgyu glanced up, his lips parting just enough for Thanos to catch the faint glint of his fangs. He quickly averted his gaze, his hands clenching into fists. “I’m fine.”
“Yeah, sure you are.” Thanos crouched down, tilting his head to get a better look at him. Namgyu flinched but didn’t move away, his body tense and coiled. Thanos noticed how his gaze kept darting to the faint pulse in his neck before snapping away, a flicker of shame in his eyes.
“You’re starving,” Thanos said flatly.
Namgyu didn’t respond, but his lips twitched, and his teeth sank briefly into the soft flesh of his lower lip. The day before, he had confessed to him that he was a vampire and that he couldn't bear seeing all that blood without being able to feed himself in front of everyone, since he didn't want anyone to know. Usually working on a night club, he had his own ways to get blood from others, especially people who were too high to notice, but this was different. This was a jail and, even if he didn't want to go home without a fat check, it was definitely killing him.
Thanos watched as Namgyu’s tongue darted out to swipe at the small indent his fangs had left, a reflexive motion that sent a strange jolt through him.
“Don’t try to lie to me,” Thanos said, sitting down beside him. “You’re practically salivating. You need blood, don’t you?”
Namgyu stiffened, his jaw tightening. The scent of Thanos—warm, alive, and maddeningly close—was already too much. His mouth felt dry and parched, yet his tongue kept brushing against his sharp fangs, as though testing their readiness. “I can handle it,” he muttered, though the hoarseness in his voice betrayed him.
“No, you can’t.” Thanos leaned closer, his tone softening. “Namgyu, you’re literally shaking.”
Namgyu’s hands fidgeted again, his fingers curling as if resisting the urge to reach out. His throat burned, the hunger clawing at him like a beast desperate to be fed. He bit his lip harder, the pressure grounding him momentarily, but it wasn’t enough.
“Stop being so damn stubborn.” Thanos tilted his head, exposing the curve of his neck. His pulse beat steadily beneath his skin, loud and inviting. “Just take it man.” he said in english.
Namgyu’s pupils dilated, and he swallowed hard. His tongue swept over his fangs again, his lips parting as the scent of Thanos’ blood flooded his senses. He could almost taste it already, the phantom sensation enough to make his entire body tense with longing.
“No,” he whispered, his voice tight with strain. “I can’t. I’ll lose control.”
“You won’t,” Thanos said firmly. His lips quirked into a teasing smile. “Come on, I trust you. Nobody can see us here”
Namgyu’s resolve shattered. With a low, guttural growl, he grabbed Thanos’ shoulders and pulled him close. His lips brushed against the warm skin of Thanos’ neck, his breath shuddering as he hesitated for just a moment. Then, his fangs pierced the soft flesh, and the first rush of blood hit his tongue.
Namgyu’s eyes fluttered shut, a shaky moan escaping his throat as he swallowed. The warm, metallic taste flooded his mouth, rich and intoxicating, and he couldn’t stop himself from savoring every drop. His tongue pressed against the wound instinctively, lapping up the blood that seeped out, the motion slow and deliberate as though he wanted to draw out the sensation.
Thanos inhaled sharply but didn’t pull away, his hand coming up to rest on the back of Namgyu’s neck. “Damn,” he muttered, his voice strained but steady. “That’s… a little more intense than I expected.”
Namgyu didn’t respond, too lost in the overwhelming rush of Thanos’ blood coursing through him. He swallowed again and again, each gulp sending a wave of relief and energy through his veins. His trembling subsided, his strength returning with every drop, but the hunger only seemed to grow sharper.
His lips lingered on Thanos’ neck even after he’d had enough, his tongue flicking out to clean the wound with almost lazy precision. The taste was addictive, the warmth lingering on his tongue making his fangs ache for more.
“Hey,” Thanos said, his voice a little firmer. “That’s enough, Namgyu.”
Namgyu pulled back reluctantly, his lips stained red and his breathing ragged. His sharp eyes glowed brighter than before, but they were filled with a desperate longing that hadn’t been there before.
“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice soft and shaky. But even as he spoke, his gaze flickered back to Thanos’ neck, lingering on the faint trace of blood still visible.
Thanos smirked, though there was a flicker of concern in his eyes. “Don’t get any ideas, Namsu. I’m not some all-you-can-drink buffet.”
Namgyu chuckled weakly, his fingers brushing over his lips as though trying to savor the taste. But as the minutes ticked by, the craving only grew stronger, sharper, until it felt like an ache deep in his chest.
“Thanos…” His voice was soft, almost pleading.
Thanos turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”
Namgyu swallowed hard, his hands trembling again as he struggled to hold himself back. “Please,” he whispered. “Just a little more. I—” He hesitated, his gaze darting away in shame. “I can’t stop thinking about it. Your blood—it’s not like anything I’ve ever tasted. I just… I need more.”
Thanos stared at him, his expression unreadable. After a long moment, he sighed. “Alright. But just a little more. Don’t make me regret this.”
Namgyu nodded quickly, his breath hitching as Thanos tilted his head again. This time, he didn’t hesitate. He sank his fangs into the tender flesh, his lips closing around the wound as he drank deeply. His hands gripped Thanos’ shoulders, his fingers flexing as he fought to control the overwhelming rush of euphoria that came with each swallow.
The taste was almost too much, a burning, addictive sweetness that made his entire body shudder. His tongue pressed against the wound again, his lips working against Thanos’ skin in slow, deliberate motions, as though he couldn’t bear to stop.
“Alright,” Thanos said, his voice strained. “That’s enough, Namgyu. Hey.”
Namgyu forced himself to stop, pulling back with a gasp. His chest heaved, his lips stained red, and his eyes wild with lingering hunger.
“Sorry,” he muttered, his voice shaking.
Thanos gave him a crooked grin. “You’re lucky I like you, fangs. But don’t make this a habit, alright?”
Namgyu nodded, though the hunger still burned within him. The taste of Thanos’ blood lingered on his tongue, warm and maddening, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before he craved it again.