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Eijirou hunches over and groans, one hand pressed against his growling stomach as if he could muffle it. He kneels and curls over. His head rests against the cool floor. Instead of soothing him, it worsens the freezing chill that overtakes his trembling body. Eijirou’s whole body feels weak.
He barely hears the door slamming open as a familiar voice calls his name. He does smell a whiff of food. Eijirou staggers up, lunging at the delicious scent. He ignores the startled shout as he sinks his sharp teeth into flesh and drinks. Warm, coppery liquid bursts on his tongue and slides down his throat. If Eijirou isn’t so starved, he would say the flavor is decent enough but not great with the grassy and earthy tones. But, he is starved, so this creature’s blood tastes like a five-star, gourmet meal, like wagyu and truffles.
Eijirou drinks until there is nothing left, but it’s not enough. He still hungers for more. He opens his eyes and sees Bakugou glaring at him. His lips curl back, revealing sharp fangs, and his furry ears press against his head. There is something else that lingers in his fiery eyes but rage smothers it. He grabs a hold of Eijirou’s arm and drags him to the armchair Eijirou found by the road one day. He sinks into the soft, well-worn cushions and breathes, feeling more clear headed after feeding.
Bakugou storms past him, carrying the deer carcass to his tiny kitchen. Eijirou listens to a knife slicing under skin and a cleaver chopping through joints and tissue as his sometimes roommate butchers his hunt. Underneath all that sound and Bakugou’s grumbling curses, he hones in on the rhythmic thumping of the werewolf’s heart. He hears the rush of blood through his arteries and veins as it flows through his body. Bakugou has so much blood.
Eijirou wipes away the drool dripping from his unhinged jaw as an apparition of Bakugou’s flavor lingers on his tongue. Bakugou has let Eijirou feed on him a handful of times, although only when he asks, when he is desperate. Most of the time he doesn’t, not wanting to hurt his friend too badly or scare him off. Not that anything can scare Bakugou. He’s too manly and strong.
Still, Eijirou knows how vampires are viewed by the rest of the supernatural. He knows it is only a matter of time before whatever sort of fascination Bakugou will fade just like Bakugou from his life after that point. It would be unmanly to demand too much from him anyway, especially when Bakugou provides other sources of food for him. The werewolf claims his prey will bleed out anyway, so Eijirou might as well have it instead of the waste soaking into the earth.
Besides, Eijirou would miss him. Ever since he was turned and rejected by everyone he knew and loves, Bakugou is the only one who has willingly talked to him in so long and the only one still sticking around. His friend visits often and hangs out for days until leaving again. Yet, Bakugou always comes back to him. He desperately prays that never changes, no matter what.
Eijirou is dragged out of his thoughts by a calloused hand pressed against his forehead. It practically burns as Eijirou is still freezing from a lack of blood, and he flinches away from it, hissing at the pain. Bakugou still looks angry but now Eijirou recognizes a glimmer of exasperation in his frowning face. His friend thrusts his wrist in front of Eijirou’s salivating mouth.
Eijirou flinches back even further, practically molding himself into the back of the chair. He struggles to keep his instincts at bay when he can hear and smell Bakugou’s blood shoved into his face. Eijirou doesn’t understand why Bakugou is doing this. He already gave him a deer after all. After the first few times Eijirou begged his friend for some blood, Bakugou always brings him other food. Although, Eijirou usually doesn’t abstain for so long either, but for the last couple of weeks, a vampire hunter has been hanging around town, probably due to rumors about him. Eijirou knows better than to roam when any of them are nearby, especially one that looked experienced. He is safe inside, here in this cabin Bakugou found for him.
The wrist is pressed against his lips. Despite his reservations, Eijirou still needs sustenance unless he wants to become feral or a husk, which while not actual death, is still a death sentence for an isolated vampire. He reluctantly opens his mouth to ask Bakugou for his assistance once again when Bakugou interrupts him.
“Drink my damn blood, you fucking dumbass.” He orders with a fire Eijirou knows not to mess with.
With his permission granted, Eijirou bites down into Bakugou’s soft skin and firm muscles. Heaven bursts into his mouth and pools on his tongue. Bakugou tastes like spicy peppers and steely iron and sweet honey all at once. It may sound like a strange combination, but it is just so Bakugou and Eijirou loves every bit of it, of him. He moans at the taste and continues drinking down that liquid nirvana, that mead from the gods, Bakugou’s pure essence.
Bakugou’s heart stutters and beats rapidly, pumping out more for Eijirou. He craves for more, but Eijirou feels a slight flush to his cheeks. He has had enough. Eijirou unlocks his jaws and licks up the blood coating his chin. Bakugou pulls away, and Eijirou mourns the trickles still on his arm. But, he makes no move to do anything, and Bakugou walks to the kitchen again, presumably to eat a bit of that deer to replace the iron he lost.
Eijirou slumps into the chair once again. Although, this time, he is full and satisfied. He shuts his eyes and relaxes, enjoying the way the donated blood warms his dead flesh. It reminds him of his previous life when he was young and happy. Nostalgia fills him along as old memories replay in his mind. When Bakugou starts bringing out pots and pans for dinner, guilt overtakes him. The heady taste sours in his mouth. Bakugou shouldn’t have had to do that. Eijirou knows from experience his friend will refuse and rebuke any apologies from his lips, at least for these occasions.
Instead, Eijirou stands and pads into the kitchen. He can help out. He needs to make up for burdening Bakugou with his monstrous hunger. Eijirou walks in on Bakugou searing some heavily seasoned venison in a pan. Bakugou’s ear twitches towards him, but he doesn’t protest. Eijirou spots a cutting board with some wild onions and carrots next to it and gets to work. They work in comfortable silence only broken by chopping, sizzling, and thumping as Bakugou’s wagging tail hits cupboards. Eijirou lips curve up despite himself at the domesticity he thought he had long lost. He really will miss this, but at least, Bakugou has given him something vital to every living and nonliving creature. Hope.