Archive of Our Own

He racked his mind with all the possibilities, his brain debunking ever plausible thought. Shelby wouldn't kill him like this, they didn't have the heart to do such a thing, but he didn’t want to stay here either.

He'd been leaning against the wall the whole time - his legs and back weren't the best after the war, they'd begun to hurt - while he thought. The most realistic thing would be to try and shove the large stone slab that closed him in, but that would undoubtedly break something - more than likely a wrist or shoulder.

He jumped when he heard voices breaking through the peaceful quiet of the crypt, a welcome sound if it meant he could leave sooner than later - and without an injury.

And then they came close enough for Legundo to tell who the voices belonged to. Shelby and Owen. He was screwed. He strained to hear them properly - he didn't even have the best hearing when not in what's essentially a stone box - to tell how much immediate danger he was in.

"C'monnnn! I have a present for you, Owen!"

"I don't care much for presents."

"You'll like this onnnee! I promise!"

"And what makes you think that?"

"Just trust me!!"

"I guess I'll entertain your games this once."

Legundo freezes as he hears and sees the door - door was a stretch really, it was a slab of stone pushed over the entrance - begin to shift, the sound of rock scraping rock as candle light began seeping in the small, dark room.

He didn't have time to try and leave before Owen was shoved into the room with him and the door was shut once more, every inch of golden light that had bounced off the walls gone.

Owen fell on to Legundo, or rather he fell into his arms. Legs always forgot how light Owen was, if not for the vampiric strength he'd be so easy to win a fight against. Even through the aged bandages he could feel the rough, gnarled scars from the illness Owen said Louis cured him of - Legs never got why scars didn't heal, maybe there are some things no level of power or immortality can fix.

As soon an Owen realized who he was with he push himself away and tucked himself into the most shadowy corner, the only bit of wall that the one, half-dead candle in the room couldn't reach. "Do not touch me!" He said like he did save him from hitting his head.

Neither moved for a moment. The silence was thick with an unspoken tension that neither of them wanted to break.

Finally Legs gave in, he couldn't bare the silence any longer.

"Why, exactly, did Shelby do this?"

Owen gave a huff in response - lackluster, sure, but better than nothing - and when he turned slightly and the light softly caressed his face the doc could swear he saw a hint of red grace the other's cheeks.

"...You seem less...violent than usual." He began lightly chewing at his bottom lip anxiously.

Owen hesitates to respond. "...I'm tired." He was, though that had nothing to do with it.

"I didn't know the undead could be tired."

"Anyone can be tired."

"How? I was under the impression your kind couldn't sleep."

Owen's brow furrowed as he walked close enough to pull him down by the collar - which was arguably more intimidating than actually being tall.

"My kind? What's that supposed to mean, Doctor?"

Owen preferred using his title as a condescending nickname; using his real name felt more like they were close, and that was one thing Owen would never admit. He was stubborn that way.

The jolt of being pulled down cause Legundo's canine to dig into the soft flesh of his bottom lip until he tasted iron. Owen stopped moving. The restraint was visible in the way Owen held himself, his stiff posture and his eyes firmly on Legundo own, refusing to look down.

Legundo probably should have felt more nervous. After all a vampire was actively staring at him like a piece of meat, yet he barely cared. He'd trusted the vampire to drink from his neck, and yes they were on slightly better terms then, and maybe it was foolish, but he truly did still trust Owen on some level. Owen was like a scared cat, you had to be very careful to not scare it off, and if you do you must regain trust.

He tells himself that's the only reason he doesn't pull away when Owen lightly nips at the cut on his neck.

Owen tried not to press too much closer for the sake of his own pride. Though when a thought crossed his mind he couldn't help but listen to it.

If I go further it will make him unprofessional, he thought. And he knew Legundo prided himself on being professional. 

One of his hands moved up to lightly tangle in Legundo's short hair, as much as it could anyways, before pulling him the slightest bit closer. It only takes closing the smallest fraction of an inch for their lips to collide.

It was awkward at first, Legundo still with shock and Owen trying to make it not too intimate. Legundo's lip had nearly stopped bleeding when Owen nipped at it and made it deeper, more blood beading up on to his skin which Owen quickly licked off.

Owen broke away for a mere second while he backed Legundo into a corner before kissing him again - only for his blood, obviously.

Neither one is exactly sure when the kiss deepened, and neither noticed until Legundo ran his tongue over Owen's fangs, small abrasions that dripped the smallest droplets of blood littered his tongue and made it all the harder for Owen to pull away.

Owen knew it was wrong. He knew he shouldn't want to stay so close just because it was warm. He knew he would only hate himself later for doing the same things he did with Louis with another man. But how could he stop now? Just when he was starting to feel warm, to feel - dare he say it - comfortable, all because of the man he was with.

He's always hated doctors, he should hate Legs too. He really should. Yet he can't make himself. 

Legundo's arm snakes around Owen's waist and pulls him ever closer.

Legundo knows he should pull away. He's the older one here, in a way. He's more mature, he's a professional, he should be able to pull himself away from this. He should be able to reject his desires, should be able to separate his wants and needs from any professional situations. Maybe it was his fault for wanting to save Owen, for wanting to cure him. After all it was a task entirely self imposed. 

Both of their thoughts slowed as a hazy bliss fogged their minds. For a short time they were little more than two bodies pressed against each other, teeth clanking against each other and tongues dancing against each others' mouths. 

When Owen finally pulls away he's still far from done. 

He alternates small nips and kisses along his jaw and trails then down his neck. He scrapes he teeth extra against a spot that makes the doctor shiver, a chill running over his spine.

"You tell anyone," he punctuates the word with a small nip at the junction between the doctor's shoulder and neck, his hand unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt so he could slide the white robes down his shoulder, "And you're dead."

There's a slight hitch in Legundo's breath.

Owen pushed the robes down until his whole shoulder was on display. The best spot to bite was always somewhere easy to hide. "Understand?"

The doctor swallowed hard, a movement Owen tracked carefully with his eyes. A small nod was all it took for Owen to begin kissing his shoulder again, momentarily even dipping down to nibble at his collarbone.

Finally he reaches the perfect spot, just above his collarbone and to the side of his shoulder. The skin there is thin, an old scar running down the middle and dipping down to his back, the raised line disappearing behind his clothes. He traces it with the back of one of his claws.

Before he bites the doc's flesh he presses nearly a dozen kisses on the spot he has planned. Finally he feels the press of fangs against his skin, a small, icy pricking sensation as Owen already began sucking at the small wounds. 

It didn't feel displeasurable. In fact if Legundo didn't think about what was happening he'd almost say it felt good. Maybe those stories of vampires having chemicals in their saliva were correct. That must be it.

Owen knew how the doctor's blood tasted already, for multiple reasons, and without a doubt it was some of the best he'd ever tasted. He didn't understand why, nor did he question anymore. He simply enjoyed the feeling of taking gulps of his blood, the liquid warm and thick in his mouth as small drops stained his lips. Eventually he only licked at the drops of crimson still slowly beading up - he was doing Legundo a favor really, after all he wouldn't want his own blood on his robes, would he?

Owen's tongue laps at the blood until no more is beading before kissing his way up to an older bite mark. He knew that vampire bite scars were almost always more sensitive than other scars, they were one of the few things every vampire felt often. Before he came out of the hole he was in for 200 years he, and even sometimes now in quiet moments, he would run his fingers along his turning mark and pretend it was Louis. Louis apologizing for hurting him, - not that Owen would ever mind - Louis telling him how nicely his fangs had grown in, Louis simply mesmerized by how Owen doesn't cover or hide the scar, how he displays it now that there's no reason for him to act human.

He scrapes his teeth over the older bite mark on Legundo's shoulder, the memories of biting him feeling so long ago yet it was only at most a few weeks past. The doctor shivers again as he lets out a shaky sigh, his brain was still more than a little foggy, every ounce of better judgment locked behind a door and the key lost in the fog.

Both Owen and Legundo were so wrapped up in each other that they didn't hear the steps or the sliding of the stone door.

Owen slowly pulls his head up, his face dusted in a delightful red as his eyes met Shelby's.

"...Told you you'd like this present!"