Archive of Our Own

Anton taps his pen on his desk, thinking. “Hm… Six letter word for a soup dish.”  He leans back in his chair. The night shift at Remutaka Range tends to be pretty low-key, especially in the cooler months when the days are shorter. Night shifts for Anton typically consist of kicking out the occasional camper, sorting paperwork left by his coworkers, and keeping himself busy till he can clock out.

“Soup… Bowl? Pot? Oh, vessel is a six letter word- Ah, nah, has to begin with a T.” Considering he’s the only one working at the moment, the night shift also tends to consist of Anton talking to himself. He groans, pressing his face into his hand. “Come on, I really don’t want to have to look this one up.”

Anton is just about to finally give in to his crossword woes when a bustling noise from some nearby bushes catches his attention. Being a werewolf has few benefits, but supernatural hearing is definitely one of them. Suddenly, there’s a loud THUD against the porch, causing Anton to jump out of his seat to investigate.

Grabbing his flashlight, he steps out onto the shack porch. Nothing seems too out of the ordinary at first glance. Just to be safe, he decides to check the perimeter of the shack as well as the path to the nearby park map. The noise is likely just some animal looking for food, but on the off chance it’s rowdy teenagers here to cause a mess of things, Anton would like to be certain.  

When everything seems to be in order, Anton wanders back, ready to be stumped yet again by his crossword. As he’s about to enter the shack, he notices something he somehow missed on his first inspection.

He spies a small brown critter lying on the porch. Taking a few steps closer, he is able to recognize it as some sort of bat. “Well, hello there” Anton says, grunting, as he squats down next to the animal. It doesn’t react to his presence. “Ah shit, please don’t be dead.”  Anton dares to get a bit closer to the bat and is able to notice that the animal is twitching slightly, likely meaning it is alive. “C’mon fella, I know you’ve got a little life in you left.”

Anton goes back inside to get something to pick up the bat with. The last thing he wants is rabies. Unable to find any gloves, Anton resigns to grabbing his scarf, hoping he can use it as a way to protect himself but also as a way to swaddle the bat.  As careful as he is able, he folds the scarf over his hands and tries to pick up the bat.

The animal wheezes out a pained squeak, “Sorry lil guy, gotta get you off the ground somehow.”  Anton quickly takes the ends of the scarf, wrapping it over the animal while heading back inside the shack.

Now that he’s inside, Anton takes a better look at the animal.  “Well you are definitely a bat alright.” He tries to take a closer look to determine what kind of bat it is, but is stumped. He pulls out a binder with information on every animal that inhabits the park. “Well you don’t look like a long-tailed or a short-tailed bat.” He closes the binder, still talking to the seemingly unconscious bat. “Guessing you aren’t from around these parts then are you.”

The bat stirs slightly, still unconscious. “Alright, let's see what the damage is.” Anton carefully manoeuvres the bat through the scarf to be laying on its stomach with its wings out. Now that he can get a better look with an overhead light, Anton can see the bat is in pretty rough shape.

Anton hisses, “Bugger, that's some nasty scrapes you got there, mate. Looks like a torn wing, some slashes on your back. Oof, even some scratches on your face there.”

The bat whimpers which makes Antons chest pang. Clearly someone higher on the food chain tried to use this little fella as a chew toy , he thinks to himself.  Anton knows that if any other ranger were here they would tell him that it's just nature, and to just let nature do its course, but then again, none of them are personally friends with some folks who actually turn into bats, so he might be biassed.

Anton notices the bat starting to stir as it comes back into consciousness. The bat starts slowly opening its eyes as it takes in its surroundings. Once it spots Anton, it clearly becomes startled, jumping while squeaking frantically at Anton. Putting his hands up to be disarming, Anton tries to calm the bat down. “Woah, woah fella, you’re alright. You’re safe.”

Shockingly, that seems to work. He nods towards the window, “Had a bit of a tumble out there, didn’t ya?” The bat lowers its head back down, curling back in on itself. “Let’s get you all wrapped up again then try and figure out what's next, ok bud?” The bat responds in a squeak that almost sounds like a confirmation, so Anton takes it as such as he re-wraps the bat in his scarf.

As he manoeuvres himself and the bat around the small office, Anton tries to remember everything he knows about basic wildlife care, but even in his line of work he hardly considers himself an expert. Unless it’s about patching up wolves, of course; he’s honed that particular skill to perfection over the years. But the bat is so tiny, so vulnerable in his arms, its little hands clutching at his scarf and his wide eyes staring up at him, but it doesn’t look afraid. It looks… peaceful, almost, swaddled up in Anton’s scarf. 

“You kind of look like a baby, you know.” He smiles down at the bat, and the bat responds with a squeak which almost sounds indignant. “I did want kids, actually. Back when I was with my wife.” 

The bat stops struggling, stops wriggling, and settles in a quiet state. Anton pretends like the animal is listening to him, for no other reason than it makes him feel less silly for talking to a bat like it’s about to start replying to him, and continues speaking. 

“I mean, we were planning on it, but I had a sort of - accident, you could say. And then we got divorced. It just never seemed to happen for us… but that’s okay. I kind of have kids now, if you can count a group of adult men as kids.” Anton laughs to himself. “They’re a whole lot messier than kids. Noisier too. But I love them, you know? They’re family, and you can’t change family.” 

The bat squeaks when Anton jostles him from one arm to the other, but it doesn’t sound like a pained noise so he carries on, setting up what he needs from random items in the barely-used office. A cardboard box filled with old documents is upended and Anton sets it back on the desk, carefully placing the injured bat inside. 

“Look at me, helping out a bat. You have no idea how hilarious that is.” Anton leans down on his haunches so his face is hovering over the box, and smiles into it. “Oh, I guess I can say it - you’re not gonna tell anyone, are you, little fella?” 

The bat squeaks and moves its wings at the sound of Anton’s voice. He goes to make air holes in the lid for the box, but the bat looks so content, not at all like it's going to make a break for freedom, and the thought of it being encased alone in the dark just makes Anton so fucking sad . He knows it’s the right thing to do, of course, but he just can’t make himself do it. Instead, Anton fusses around the room, finding his rucksack and pulling out his water bottle and lunchbox, setting it all next to the cardboard box. 

“I’m a werewolf, actually. An alpha at that, if you can believe it.” He uncaps the lid of his bottle and tips it onto a paper towel pulled from the dispenser next to the crude sink set-up. They have to have clean running water on hand in case of an injury, and although it’s meant for people, Anton doesn’t mind if the local wildlife benefit from it as well. If anything, he prefers animals to humans anyway.

“And we don’t famously have a great relationship with bats, because sometimes they turn into people and try to rip out our throats - yes they do.” Anton coos as the bat starts making little noises again, and it’s so endearing, so unique and adorable, he kind of regrets the years he spent thinking of bats as basically vermin. 

“But you see, there are some vampires - yes, vampires exist, you might be related to them, little man - are actually kind of cool. I’ve changed my mind on them quite quickly, recently, but it’s not my fault.” 

Anton opens his lunchbox and pulls out the banana. It’s more brown than Anton would usually like but he hates wasting food so he’d resigned himself to the overly ripe fruit. Now he has a better purpose for it, peeling just the first half, snapping it off and mushing it between his fingers. He gets another paper towel and sets both the water and the crushed banana next to the bat. Anton doesn’t force it to eat or drink, doesn’t want to make it any more distressed than the poor creature must already be feeling, and pulls up a chair. 

“You see there’s this guy - a vampire. He’s… well. He’s actually kind of wonderful, really. I’ve never said this aloud before but I trust you, mate. You won’t give away my secrets, will you?” He runs his fingers along the scarf, not touching the bat even when it moves towards his hand. Its eyes are large and brown and kind of beautiful, if not eerily familiar. Anton knows it irrational, because it’s literally a bat and of course he’s seen bats before so it shouldn’t be a surprise that he recognises it as a fucking bat , but it feels like something more, somehow. Something larger, something Anton can’t quite place. 

“I really, really like him. Like, I’m actually a little bit obsessed with him, as embarrassing as it is for a grown man to say. He makes me feel like a teenager, all blushy and awkward and I never know what to say to him. How exactly are you supposed to tell a four-hundred-year-old vampire from Europe that you’re at least a little bit in love with him?” Anton sighs and the bat starts squeaking uncontrollably. “I’m sure you’re giving me some stellar advice right now, mate, but it’s kind of getting lost in translation.” 

He can’t stop smiling at the animal, and he feels a pang of resentment that he can’t have pets anymore, doesn’t trust himself to keep them safe. Safe from him . And it hurts . Not that bats should be kept as pets, in Anton’s opinion. 

“Anyway, I can’t wait to tell him about you! I bet Viago will be really happy that I helped you out.” He reaches in again and adjusts the scarf to cover the bat more, to keep him warmer in this cold, slightly damp office. “Not that I wouldn’t have helped you anyway, little guy. I’m not the kind of arsehole to only help out a hurt animal to impress his crush, but if he is impressed… we can call that a win-win, can’t we?”

There’s a sound outside, like metal hitting wood, the distinct roar of engines, and Anton jolts with it, tearing his hand away from the cardboard box and jumping to his feet. 

“Now, what the hell was that?” His eyes flick down to the bat for a second as it starts making noises, louder and higher in pitch; almost urgent. “Don’t worry, mate. I’ll keep you safe. Whatever it is, they won’t hurt you. Not whilst I’m around.”

Anton walks towards the entrance of the shack to investigate the sound.  It’s pitch black out, but that means little to a werewolf.  Even with his wolf eyes, he can only just barely make out what looks like several figures off in the distance revving their ATVs.

“Oy! You can’t be here!” He yells. Anton swears he hears one of the men laughing as another tells them to book it out of there. 

He isn’t sure how many of them there even are, but even one is too many for this time of night. One man is dressed in a floor-length leather coat, browned more by wear and dirt than by any kind of fashion choice. Underneath is a faded t-shirt and his boots have holes in the feet; he doesn’t look like the average troublemaker Anton is used to seeing off, but then again he isn’t the average park ranger. 

“Sorry pal, we were just leaving.” The man in the coat laughs, but it’s rough like chalk scraping and it sets Anton’s teeth on edge. The other men have melted into the shadows, and even with the help of the wolf, Anton’s eyes aren’t good enough to see where the men start and their bikes end. 

The engines rev like lightning in the otherwise peaceful serenity of the woods, but still Anton hustles towards the direction they are in, hoping to at least get some sort of description of the ATVs to let security know. By the time he catches up to where they had been previously parked, they are long gone.

He breathes out a shaky exhale, the wolf prowling and snarling in his mind even if Anton doesn’t really understand why. The wolf has better instincts than his natural human ones, and it’s pushing Anton to follow the men, not an urge to chase but an urge to hunt . He suppresses it, blames the moon which is high and slowly starting to fill out as the month draws to an end, and checks the immediate area for any sign of stragglers. 

Anton rolls his eyes when he sees something blowing in the wind. He’s so fucking sick of people coming into the woods and leaving their rubbish behind. As if he didn’t have enough to do, looking after the trees and plants and animals, the amount of litter people have been leaving in recent months has spiked and now it’s his job to clean up after them as well. He prefers that to the alternative, to this beautiful stretch of land being marred by human ignorance and irresponsibility, but what he'd prefer even more is for people to just - take their shit with them . 

He marches over to the scrap and snatches it from the ground before the wind can take it, glaring at the tail-lights of the bikes as they slink away into the night. 

“Absolute arseholes.” He mutters, turning the object over in his hand. 

It’s a small piece of fabric, cream in colour but covered in a dark brown stain and torn in several places. 

It takes Anton a second to realise the stain isn’t dirt but actually blood. 

He notices pretty soon after that it isn’t just any old scrap of fabric, but a cravat. 

And then it dawns on him instantly where he recognises it from, and Anton has to grab onto the tree next to him to keep standing. 

Viago . 

Running his hand through his hair, Anton tries to collect his thoughts as he realizes two things. First, something injured Viago badly, causing him to be transformed into a bat. And two, that he had been gushing about his crush to his crush. Anton looks back towards where he saw the men. Could they have…? Anton shook his head. One thing at a time, he thinks to himself.

He took a deep breath as he turned the doorknob to the shack, preparing to be embarrassed beyond belief. As Anton enters, he hears several squeaks coming from where he had left the bat- er, well. Viago. Anton sits back down, placing his hand with the cravat palm up.

“Is this- I mean. Um…” Anton stammers. “...Viago?”  The bat crawls towards Antons hand and nuzzles into the cravat. Anton’s shoulders relax. “Guess that answers that.” Knowing now that this critter wont give him rabies, Anton gently pets Viago’s head with his index finger. “What the hell happened, mate?”

Viago’s ears lowered slightly as he turned in on himself. Anton took this as not just a confirmation, but also Viago showing that he didn’t really want to talk about it. “Fair enough.” Anton gently gives Viago some pets behind his ear as Viago relaxes into it.

Anton rubs his face with his other hand, chuckling to himself.  Viago gives an inquisitive squeak. “Oh man, what are the fucking odds-” Anton is cut off by two distinct squeak squeak ’s from Viago.  “You aren’t even able to speak and I can tell you are saying ‘swearwolf’ at me.” Anton rolls his eyes. “What are the- hecking- odds that the one bat I gush about a crush to is, well…” He leans back in his chair and looks at the ceiling while covering his eyes. I’m never going to live this one down.

He pulls his hands down and looks back at the desk. Viago is giving what could only be described as a ‘smug’ expression for a bat. “Alright, that’s a future-us problem. For now we need to get you healed up.” He rubs his chin in thought. “Guess this is why you wouldn’t eat the banana then, huh.” Viago squeaks.

“Right then,” Anton grabs his phone, “first thing’s first, I should text Nick to let the vamps know where you are.” Viago squeaks rapidly. “Ah, I’m guessing you were with the other vamps then, yeah?” Another squeak. “Alrighty, I’ll text Stu then to go check up on ‘em.”  After typing out a quick text to Stu and Nick, he places his phone back on the desk.

“Okay then. Let’s find you some blood.” He takes another inspection over Viago’s injuries. “I’m guessing the reason your healing hasn’t started on its own is because you need some.”  Anton rummages through the shack pantry.  While they have an abundance of supplies to feed the occasional animal being rehabilitated, pickings were slim in the ‘ blood’ department. 

Grabbing what he could, Anton returned to Viago. “Good news, we had a few stoats staying here recently and still had some mice left over.  Have you ever seen a stoat? Adorable little guys, you’d love them.” Anton takes one of the frozen mice and puts it on a small tea plate for Viago. “I know it’s not ideal but hopefully it gets the job done.”

Viago crawls towards the plate, hesitantly sniffing the dead mouse.  He shakes his head, then turns away from the plate, snout upturned. “Oh come on, even as a bat your standards are that high?” Viago replies with a loud exhale through his nose.  Anton puts his hands up defensively, “Alright, alright! No mice then.” He takes the plate and returns it and the mouse to the pantry freezer. “Your options are a bit limited then.”

Tapping his finger on the table, Anton tries to think of a solution.  He knows that his flat has some blood bags in the fridge from Nick, but his shift isn’t over yet and he hasn’t heard back from Stu so it could be a while before he could get them.  Then it hits him. He pauses his tapping, then placing his hand, finger out, in front of Viago. “Go on then.” Viago looks at his finger, then back at Anton’s face, squeaking. “I know I know, it probably tastes awful, half wolf and all, but you need to get some blood in you.” Viago continues to stare.  Antons brow furrow in concern. “ Please, Viago.” Seeing Viago’s hesitation, Anton decides to grab a nearby thumbtack, pricking his own finger. Viago begins squeaking frantically. “It’s fine, I’m fine. C’mon then, drink up.” He places his finger back in front of Viago.

Viago hesitantly places his paws on Anton’s finger.  The moment Viago’s little hands grip his finger, his heart soars. Viago began sucking at where Anton had pierced his skin, causing an odd sensation. His hand feels warm, especially anywhere Viago is touching him. While he isn’t technically being bit by a vampire, he wonders if it would be similar. Now there’s a thought, Anton’s mind wanders. He quickly hampers that thought down before his mind strays too far. 

Anton is struck with the urge to pet Viago while he drinks. He wonders if Viago would let him.  He wonders if his bat fur is as soft as his hair. He wonders if Viago likes his hair pulled-

Nope. Anton stops himself before he can get too carried away, again . 

After a few moments Viago pulls back from Anton’s hand as the prick wound has healed itself. He squeaks up at Anton. “Good. Hopefully that's enough to get some healing kicked in.”  Viago happily squeaks with significantly more energy than before. “Not sure how long this typically takes for you guys. For us it tends to vary based on how close we are to the full moon.”  Viago squeaks several times, clearly trying to respond in full. “Mhm, sure bud.” Anton chuckles, pretending to understand. He’s pretty sure the expression Viago is making is likely the bat equivalent of a pout.

Viago shivvers and starts crawling back towards where Anton’s scarf is bunched up next to them. “Yeah it’s a bit nippy out tonight isn’t it? Probably doesn’t help with the state you are in. Let me just…” Anton picks up the scarf and begins to wrap Viago. Viago chirps, nuzzling his face into the scarf. “There, all nice and cozy.” As soon as Anton places the scarf back down on the table and leans back in his chair, several whines start coming from Viago.  “Woah woah, what's wrong?” Anton quickly starts inspecting the scarf and Viago, trying to see what’s distressing Viago, but as soon as he picks him back up, the whining stops.

Puzzled, Anton places Viago back on the table and the whining resumes. “Do you… Do you want me to hold you?” Anton questions.  Nodding his head, Viago chirps.  “Um alright, yeah, we can have a little snuggle then. To help you get better, of course. Anything to uh…help.” His hands are shaking slightly as he cradles Viago gently in his arms. Can’t say this is how I thought the first time we would cuddle would go, Anton thinks to himself. 

Hesitantly, Anton begins gently petting Viago as he starts to doze off on Anton. “Right, so uh. About what I was um… saying… earlier…” His eyes shoot to the ceiling as his face burns up from embarrassment. “Not… exactly how I thought that would go if I’m honest. And it’s fine if you don’t… You know.”  He looks around, continuing to avoid any eye contact with the object of his affections bundled in his arms. “Sorry I just don’t want to fuck this up. You mean a lot to me, and I’m cool with anything. Um.. Any way you’d have me…” Nervously, Anton looks back down at Viago, hoping to be able to somehow read the expression on his face.

He’s met with wide (or well, as wide as they can be) brown eyes staring up at him. Shit . Before Anton’s mind can spiral, he feels small little paws gripping on his shirt as Viago starts trying to crawl up his chest. Carefully, he uses his hands to gently cup Viago, placing him over his heart. Viago sniffs, then yawns as he gets comfortable in this new position. Anton’s hands stay around Viago, cradling him as he falls back asleep.

After a while, Anton’s phone buzzes, catching both of their attention. Making sure he still has one hand to hold Viago in place, he checks his phone to see a text notification from Stu. He can feel Viago tensing his grip on his shirt, concerned about his friends.  “Well good news is that Stu says the others are alright. He stopped by your flat just as the rest of them were coming back. He says they are a bit roughed up but overall fine, and they’ll explain everything when I get you home.” Viago relaxes. 

Viago cuddles into Anton’s grip and Anton cradles him close, enjoying the warmth of him in this form, and the comfort his proximity brings. They stay like that until Anton is fully able to calm down.

The silence is broken by the sound of Anton’s watch alarm going off. “Right then, shift’s over and… shit, it’s almost sunrise.” He looks at Viago, slightly panicked. “I think it might be better to go back to mine for a bit. It’s closer and then I can keep an eye on you in case you need anything.” And stay near you , he doesn’t say.

Removing Viago from his shoulder, he puts him back on the desk.  He takes the cardboard box from before and places Viago with the scarf inside. “I’m going to need you to stay wrapped up until we get home, got it?” Viago nods. “Good, ok then, sorry about this.” He puts the lid back on the box, investigating that there are no weak spots where sunlight can go through. Just to be safe, he tapes over the air holes he had made from earlier and places his jacket over the box. “Right, then.”

Locking up the shack and speed walking back towards the parking lot, Anton holds the box close to his chest. Every now and then he can hear a grunt coming from the box as Viago gets jostled around slightly. Right as they make it to Anton’s car, the sun begins to rise.

After running several red lights, they make it back to Anton’s home. Once inside, he places the box on the coffee table and frantically runs around the entire house making sure every curtain is shut securely, even going as far as to hang towels over curtain rods as well. He slumps down on the couch, then removes the lid of the box. Exhaling a sigh of relief, he sees that Viago has not burnt to a crisp and appears to be fine. Or as fine as he was when they left the park. 

“Pfew, well then. Guess we can make you a bit more comfortable now, can’t we?” He takes a whiff of his shirt. “ Yuck, guess I should get out of my work clothes too then. Be back in a tick.”

Anton rushes upstairs to his bedroom, tossing his work clothes into his overflowing laundry bin, throws his rucksack on the floor by his bed and unpacks his crossword for later, seeing as he isn’t exactly sure how much sleep he’s going to get. After a quick splash of water to the face, he snags a t-shirt with a logo long faded, and a pair of flannel pajama pants. Before heading back downstairs, he has an idea.

He can’t remember when but at some point the pack made it a tradition to give Anton wolf or werewolf themed stuffed animals for father’s day each year. Fortunately Anton is extremely sentimental and has kept every one of them.  He grabs a handful and places them in a pile on his bed.

Upon his return, Viago squeaks excitedly from his spot on the couch.  “Gonna bring you upstairs, better protection from the sun and all that.” Anton picks up Viago, scarf and all, and carries him up the stairs into the bedroom. “Right, so let's get you all nice and comfy then.” He places the various stuffed animals in a circle while Viago curls up against the biggest one. Anton goes to remove the scarf but Viago grips it as he tries to move it.  “Alright, alright!” He tucks the scarf back around Viago. “Cool, I’m gonna see if Stu can get some of that soil stuff you need to be able to actually sleep.”

Anton sends off the text, then places the phone next to him. “You know, I’m actually a bit jealous of you right now.” Viago tilts his head in confusion. Anton shifts to sitting on the bed next to Viago. He gives Viago some behind the ear scratches. “You’re adorable like this. You transform into this cute little beanie baby instead of some hulking bloodthirsty beast.” Nudging his hand, Viago moves from where Anton was petting him and begins to tap the snout on one of the wolf stuffed animals, chirping. “Yes, yes, I mean the wolf.”

Viago exhales through his snout, then goes up and starts gripping the wolf stuffed animal snout more, trying to hug it. Anton snorts, “Well I’m glad you don’t seem to mind it then.” Viago does a small triumphant ‘hmpf’ and settles back down into the pile. The two of them stay in mostly silence as Viago rests and Anton pets his back.  Eventually the doorbell rings as Stu shows up with Viago’s soil.

“You’re the man, Stu. Thanks.” Anton says while grabbing the small velvet pouch of dirt.

“No worries, is Viago ok?” Stu asks.

“Yeah, I mean I think so. He’s still a bat but his wounds have been starting to heal up finally. He’s just resting now if you want to come say hello.”

Stu shakes his head, “It’s alright, I have to head to work anyway. Had a bit of a late start this morning helping out Nick and the others.” He places a hand on Anton’s shoulder. “I’m sure you have it all under control. You can tell him I said hello.” He pats his shoulder, then walks back towards his car.

Kicking the door shut, Anton inspects the dirt. “Good news Vi, Stu just dropped off your soil.” Just barely over the pile of toys, Anton can see Viago hopping and squeaking in excitement. Anton sits back down on the bed next to him. “Alright, alright, don’t wear yourself out too much. Stu says ‘hi’ by the way but couldn’t stop in.” He holds the pouch out for Viago who sniffs it excitedly. “Not really sure how this part works? Do you just need it nearby or…?” Viago motions for Anton to place the pouch in the bottom of the stuffed animal pile.  Moving in a circle, Viago gently moves around the various stuffed animal limbs, making himself comfy.

Almost immediately, Viago yawns and his eyes start to slowly shut as he begins to sleep. Anton yawns as well, realizing that he also should be resting. I’ll just rest my eyes a moment, he thinks as he cosies up next to Viago’s stuffed animal pile. 

~’*’~

Anton wakes up slowly, wondering why he’s slept awkwardly on his side when he knows it puts his back out when he remembers the little bat - Viago - he rescued and his eyes fly open, eager to check that Viago is okay. 

“There you are. My hero.” Viago smiles at him, eyes wide and sparkling in the low light, completely and undeniably a person, rather than a bat. His clothes are dirty and dishevelled, there’s dried blood on his collar and the gash he saw on the bat translates into an angry red mark along Viago’s throat, no longer dribbling blood but still painful looking. 

On one hand, Anton is genuinely pleased Viago feels well enough to transform back into a human. On the other hand, he feels sick at seeing Viago even slightly hurt, and so fucking mortified after everything he said yesterday that he almost falls from the bed in panic. 

“Bloody shit - Viago! I wasn’t - I didn’t - How are you -”

Viago giggles, burrows his face into Anton’s pillows and soft toys, obviously inhaling the scent there. 

“I feel amazing this morning, kleiner Wolf. Thanks to you.” 

Anton tries to calm his breathing, to think logically about the situation. Sure, he saved Viago last night. Sure, he confessed his feelings to Viago when he thought Viago was just any other bat. Sure, he brought Viago into his den, into his bed , like that was an entirely natural thing for an alpha to do for a vampire. 

Okay. Shit. Logic clearly hasn’t played a part in any of this so far. Anton sees no reason to start now, and asks the least personal question first. 

“What actually happened to you out there, Vi?” 

At that, Viago’s expression falls, brows drawing down and bottom lip caught between sharp fangs. His expression verges on fear, and Anton almost regrets asking the question at all. 

“Those men you chased off, those boys … They were hunters. I didn’t sense them, stupid as it is, and they got the better of me.” Viago curls up on himself, presses his palm flat against the cut on his throat, fading more with each passing minute. “I transformed into a bat to make my escape but they had better aim than I was expecting, and managed to catch me with a knife before I could flee. And then you found me.” 

Anton sees the relief pass over Viago’s face and it should be a comfort, an indication that Viago feels safe with him, at least, but Anton is too crippled with blinding rage to notice much. 

“There were hunters… in my woods?” His voice slips, cracks, and the wolf shines through. The voice of an alpha, thick and commanding and so much deeper than his usual cadence, and it obviously catches Viago off-guard; his eyes fly wide, and he shudders, sitting up on the bed and reaching forward to rest his hand on Anton’s arm. 

The touch snaps Anton out of it slightly, but not enough. How dare they. Those woods are some of the only safe spaces for his pack in Wellington; they are not permitted in the supernatural spaces and can’t make use of human spaces in case they hurt someone. In those woods, they are free, unrestrained and entirely themselves, and now some hunters - Viago was right, they weren’t as old as most hunters they’ve encountered - want to take that from them. They hurt Viago . Anton isn’t about to let either of those things slide. 

“I got separated from the others, I guess they were trying to pick us off one at a time. It was… different, compared to other experiences I’ve had with hunters. Almost ritualistic, like a hunt.” 

Anton grinds his teeth so hard his gums ache. “They were treating it like a sport?”

After a few moments Viago nods his head slowly, almost as if he is ashamed of what happened. Anton’s blood runs cold. 

Anton can not have that. At. All.

His breathing quickens as he feels the wolf trying to take over. Someone could have taken Viago from him. From an alpha. Fur starts to sprout on his forearms and his eyes begin to glow. 

Fuck, need to calm down. FUCK. 

He thinks back to the state he found Viago in and wonders how much of that was inflicted before he transformed. Or worse, what if there were even more injuries on him. He hears the hunter’s laugh, thick and unpleasant and imagines him laughing like that at Viago. At Viago being hurt . His vision starts to turn red at the edges and everything shifts in and out of focus. 

He’s about to tell Viago to get out, to leave because right now, Anton can’t guarantee anyone’s safety. Certainly not the hunters. 

I’ll kill them, I’ll kill them all. I’ll hurt them like they hurt Viago and I’ll enjoy it -

“Anton, look at me.” Viago’s hands cup Anton’s face, drawing the alpha’s gaze to his. His eyes are wide with worry and Anton feels pathetic that Viago, who is still physically and mentally recovering from an attack, is having to comfort him. He should have better control; he’s an alpha. How is he supposed to protect his pack, protect Viago, if he can’t even protect himself from the wolf. 

Anton takes a deep breath through gritted teeth. 

“Shit, Vi, I’m sorry. I just -”

“I know, Liebling. But I am safe . I am safe because of you. I know they won’t hurt me now.” Viago smiles, watery and reassuring, and Anton growls in response, even the mention of them trying to find Viago again enough to send his wolf snarling and scratching at his mind. Of them hurting Viago, laughing at him - 

“Nobody will ever hurt you again, Viago. I promise I’ll keep you safe.” 

There’s urgency in his words, in how easily they fall from his lips and how deeply he means them. He doesn’t even know how Viago feels about him yet, and maybe he’s scared to ask but he’s scared of losing Viago even more. If all they have is this, this stolen, quiet moment where the vampires have just gone to sleep and the wolves are yet to wake, then Anton will be grateful for it. He might not have realised how much until Viago was almost taken from him, but Anton loves Viago in this bone-deep, possessive way he’s never loved anyone before. The sheer amount of veneration and joy he feels at just spending time with him has Anton covering Viago’s hands with his own, holding the vampire in place. 

“I trust you, Anton. I know my alpha will keep me safe.” Viago giggles, and Anton knows he’s teasing but the words rewire his brain, have his hands shaking and his breath coming quicker. 

There’s so much more they need to talk about and so little time to discuss it in, but right then, in this little pocket of space they’ve carved out for themselves, all Anton wants to do is to feel Viago’s lips on his. But he can’t, because he’s so close to losing control and he still doesn’t know how Viago even feels -

“Viago,’ Anton screws his eyes shut, forces breath from his lungs and draws on every ounce of self-control he can muster. “I think we should find somewhere else for you to sleep today.” 

He can’t open his eyes, can’t see the expression Viago is making because if it’s pleased, or relieved, Anton doesn’t know that his heart will be able to take it. But Viago is rubbing circles with his thumb over Anton’s skin, just below his lips, and Anton tries not to let himself feel hope that this could mean something, that they could be something. He fails. 

“What is wrong, little wolf? Have I overstayed my welcome?” Viago’s tone is light but the way his voice breaks betrays him. 

Maybe it’s okay to be honest. Maybe here, in Viago’s arms, Anton is safe. 

“I just think that if you stay,’ Anton gulps down air, lets his hands fall from Viago’s and grips the sheets below instead. “If you stay, I’m definitely going to want to kiss you.” 

“Oh, my love. What makes you think that this would be a bad thing?”

At that, Anton’s eyes fly open. 

Viago’s gaze is hot and trained directly on Anton’s mouth, and before he knows it they’re both leaning in, inches away, close enough that he would be able to feel Viago’s breath on his skin if he still had any. Viago’s lips are wet and so inviting that Anton keeps his eyes open as long as he can, wanting to remember every second of their first kiss. And he hopes it’s their first, wants nothing more than for them to have a second and a third until their kisses lose numbers and their affection becomes a normal, everyday part of their lives. 

His hands are still limp at his sides and Viago is still holding him like he’s a delicate thing and it’s so fucking perfect, if he just leans in, closes the final part of distance between them - 

“Anton, mate, you home?” 

Declan’s voice pierces through their little bubble and Anton jumps away, forcing Viago’s hands to fall. He feels bereft at the loss of contact, his body screaming out to touch Viago again, to hold him and kiss him over and over until everything else falls away, but he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for indulging in this simple delight if his pack needed him. 

“Viago, I’m so sorry, but -”

“Go, Anton. The duties of an alpha never cease.” Viago is smiling but his disappointment is obvious and it just makes Anton feel so much worse. 

“I won’t be long, I promise.” He hurries to reassure, and Viago waves him away with an elegant flick of his wrist, already reclining back onto Anton’s bed like it’s where he belongs. Anton doesn’t let that particular thought linger or else he’d never be able to bring himself to leave. Instead he pushes from his bed and scurries towards the door, socks slipping on the wooden floor in his haste. 

Declan is already on the landing, heading towards Anton’s bedroom with a frown. 

“Hey, Anton, I just spoke to Stu. Apparently the vamps were attacked by some hunters, is everyone alright?”

Anton nods, breathless. “Viago is the only one that got significantly injured. I brought him here to sleep it off, so tell everyone to stay clear of my room until sunset.” 

Declan does a mimic of a salute with two fingers. 

“Will do, boss.” He turns to leave but then pauses. “Do you think they’ll try to find the vampires again, or come for the pack? I know our den isn’t close to their coven but I think pretty much everyone knows now that we at least see each other sometimes.” 

He’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and Anton hates to think of his pack as scared, even if it’s only one person. Even if it’s just for a fleeting second. Anton places a hand on Declan’s shoulder and squeezes it tightly. 

“I promise, nothing's gonna happen to the vampires or to the pack. I’ll keep everyone safe, Dec.” 

Declan visibly relaxes at that, and although Anton might feel the role of the alpha is a burden sometimes, in moments like these it feels like nothing more than a beautiful, brilliant gift. 

“Cheers, mate. I’ll catch up with the boys, let them know what’s going on. If you need anything, give me a call and we’ll come back here.” 

Anton nods and Declan smiles and it hits him again how much the pack means to him. Not as an alpha, but as a man; the community they’ve built, the family they’ve made because they didn’t have anywhere else to go. It’s all so special, and wonderful, and Anton feels almost teary thinking about what he would do without them. 

The front door hasn’t even closed and Anton is already back in his bedroom, but before he can apologise to Viago again for the disturbance and hopefully pick up from where they left off, Anton turns to see Viago is asleep, curled up under his blanket with a peacefully blank expression. 

In his arms he’s holding one of Anton’s wolves, the first one he was ever given by the pack. It’s not the biggest, or the cuddliest; its fur is a little matted now and one of the paws has stuffing peeking from the seam, but it’s Anton's favourite because it started the tradition. Viago had no way of knowing that when he picked up, but Anton reckons it still means something that out of all of these wolves, Viago still managed to find the one which Anton likes best. 

He stands by the door for a moment, letting himself take in the sight of Viago in his bed, amongst his things like it’s the most natural place for him to be, before he snatches a post-it note from his desk and scribbles a crude note on the front. 

Viago inside!! DO NOT OPEN!!

Anton trusts Declan to pass on the message but he’d rather have the added reassurance. He opens his bedroom door again carefully, lets it click quietly into place before sticking the note on the front. 

He made a promise to Declan that he would keep the pack safe. He made a similar, if not more intimate, promise to Viago. 

As an alpha, Anton makes sure to always keep his promises. 

~’*’~

The air is stale around him as the world slowly starts to wake up. He isn’t even sure what the time is anymore, but the traffic is low and he’s grateful for that, speeding his way back to the woods so he can work out where to go from there. 

Anton follows the tracks from the bikes until he’s back where he found Viago, and takes a deep inhale. There’s not much left to go on, with the exhaust fumes covering up the human scent he’s trying to chase, and everytime he thinks he’s found the right scent the wind changes or he catches something else instead and everything becomes lost. It’s frustrating, how powerless he feels, and it makes Anton want to punch a tree but it isn’t the tree's fault, at the end of the day, so he leans against it instead, gripping the bark and taking some calming breaths. 

He needs to find the hunters. He needs to rip them apart for hurting Viago, for scaring his pack. Anton doesn’t relish the thought of taking a life but this? He knows he’s going to enjoy it. Too much, maybe. And he might try to blame that on the wolf but the truth is, the wolf merely gives him the tools he needs to keep the people he loves safe. Everything else is him, and only him. It’s not something Anton likes to dwell on, so he starts trudging back towards where he abandoned his car, thinking that he probably needs to contact the vampires at sunset to see if he can gather any more information. 

And then he sees something fluttering in the corner of his eye and stops in his tracks. It’s the same as last night, when he found Viago’s cravat. His immediate response is that it’s some litter left over by careless hikers, but when he approaches it he realises it’s another bit of fabric. This is a dark cotton, stuck amongst branches at about waist height, and when Anton brings it to his face, everything snaps perfectly into place. All of the little bits of scent he had smelt before ignite on his palette, sour and unpleasant but undeniably the same as what he was sensing from the tracks. It’s no doubt a bit of t-shirt snagged on some branches (Anton always warns about how dangerous sharp branches can be, but nobody ever listens to him), and the scent is so pure, Anton is positive he can follow them from this. 

And he does , back through the woods, towards his car, driving with the window down and the fabric tucked between his chest and seat belt to keep the scent fresh on his nose. It isn’t the easiest tracking he’s ever done but when the trail stops at an old abandoned warehouse, Anton knows he’s been successful. 

There are bikes outside, four total. He thought there were more last night but rationalises that they might have split up, or he could simply be misremembering. Either way, if the entire guild isn't present, it’ll be easier to track any stragglers down (if they’re stupid enough to stick around, of course) than it was to find the main group, because pretty much all of the information he needs is right in front of him. 

He circles his car around and parks a little further away, not wanting to make his presence obvious. He doesn’t spot anyone as he walks back so assumes they must all be still inside. Anton crouches low to the ground, assesses the area, and tries to come up with a plan. 

The sensible thing to do is to call Declan and have the pack meet him there, but then he remembers the gash on Viago’s throat and the way his tiny bat form trembled in Anton’s arms, and he suddenly isn’t feeling all that sensible at all. 

The wolf has its hairs raised, growling steadily the closer to the warehouse Anton gets. He glances quickly around at the building, werewolf senses firing quickly, taking in every sight and smell and the slightest of sounds. There’s a window to the side which is broken already, so Anton decides that’s the safest way to proceed. 

He doesn’t make a noise when he drops into the dark warehouse, in a small room which is thankfully currently unused. No, Anton doesn’t make a sound; he hears them though, in the room outside of this one. Only two voices are clear, and Anton can’t smell any others in the immediate area. He closes his eyes and, for once, he welcomes the anger that washes over him in waves, and the riptide of vindication that follows that he’s going to protect the people he loves. It’s enough to have the wolf taking over, at least slightly. His fingernails extend into his claws, his canines sharpen, and there’s fur threatening to burst through his t-shirt (not his loose-fitting trousers, though, because he actually cares about persevering his jeans, unlike the pack), and he thinks that’s enough for now. The raw strength rushing through him, the adrenaline and fury coupled with something other, something Anton can only describe as pure wolf , have him throwing the door open so hard it snaps from its hinges. 

The two hunters don’t have the time to react. One is a reedy young man with limp hair pulled into a greasy knot, and the other is a short man with a shaved head and a red scar across one cheek. Anton takes in their details quickly, knowing ultimately neither of them are stronger than he is right now, and smashes their skulls together with his hands. They don’t even make a noise when they crumple to the floor. Anton climbs over them, stalks further into the warehouse, aware that the two other hunters are probably aware of his presence now. 

His head is whipping around as he hunches forward, lower to the ground as he becomes more and more beast. Anton’s feet pulse uncomfortably in his work boots as they grow into paws, but the pain in his head is worse . He can hear the wolf in this form, not necessarily words but rather as a stream of consciousness, clashing with his own, pushing him to go further, deeper. To end the hunters, to maim and kill and destroy until everything is red, and everyone is safe. 

For once, Anton doesn’t disagree with the wolf. For once, he welcomes the chaos. 

There’s a crack to his side, a floorboard snapping with the weight of something heavy , and then a knife is slicing through the air next to him, grazing his cheek enough to draw blood but all it doesn’t slow him down. In fact, all it really does is annoy him. He turns on his heel with a wild snarl, seeing the source of the weapon as the man he had spoken to in the woods. The one who had laughed . 

“Oh, this is unexpected.” The man smiles, slow and sticky and without any kind of real delight. He focuses on Anton like he’s looking at an animal ready for hunting practice, eyes wide and glowing in the light, hands resting on pockets which conceal things Anton can hardly imagine. 

The hunter probably has more weapons than Anton has ever seen, more ways of killing vampires and werewolves than most humans have ever imagined. He’s probably spent hours of his life practising, preparing for this very moment. He probably knows exactly what he needs to do next.

Anton doesn’t give him the chance. 

He leaps forward on all fours, claws causing sparks where they meet with the stone floor, and jumps on the hunter, holding his arms in place with his clawed hands. The man struggles for a moment, but when he gets no purchase and nobody comes to his rescue, he stills. 

His grey eyes look up at Anton with so much contempt, this deep unbridled hatred which Anton didn’t know truly existed outside of movies, and it almost hurts . What did the pack do to deserve this? They didn’t choose to be monsters. Neither did the vampires. They just want to live , as best they can. And this man who didn’t even know them tried to see them dead. He tried to kill Viago . And that was his biggest mistake, Anton thinks. Because now he has no choice but to return the favour. And unlike these amateurs, he knows he can finish the job. 

“You shouldn’t have hurt those vampires, mate. You shouldn’t have hurt my friend .” 

The hunter grins wildly. “Fuck you.” 

And then he spits into Anton’s face, and Anton blacks out. 

~’*’~

When he comes back to himself, there’s blood on his mouth and his clothes and all over the ground. Underneath him is a body, identifiable by basic shape but there are no distinguishable features left, and Anton knows rationally he should feel some kind of grief for being the cause because everyone has a family; everyone belongs somewhere, to someone. But this is where he belongs, in these woods with his pack and his love. So all he can muster is a frail kind of relief, something which sits high in his chest and heavy on his heart but still, he feels good . 

He stands on shaky legs, still not fully human but human enough that he can walk upright again, and sways slightly with the whiplash of being alone in his mind. It’s like tinnitus, when the wolf goes silent, an incessant buzzing in Anton’s ears as he strains to hear the next sign that the wolf is approaching, like a rapture, heart beating rapidly, wondering how long he’ll get to be himself for this time. 

As he stumbles towards the door, Anton hears a muffled whimper and snaps his head towards the sound. In the corner of the room, there’s a man curled in on himself, hand clamped over his mouth at what he’s seen Anton do. He seems to be the youngest of all the hunters here, and judging by the way he’s reacting he’s probably the newest. Anton pauses for a moment. He wants to be generous, be kind, be all the things his mother taught him to be before the wolf taught him to be the direct opposite. Although Anton tries to apply those traits in his everyday life, he also knows that there are probably more hunters in the area, hunters who could come back at any moment. And only one of them knows what his face looks like. 

Anton wants to let the young man live, but he can’t . 

So, he doesn’t. 

~’*’~

By the time Anton makes it back to his house, the sun has already set. He drops a message to the pack letting them know he’s safe, and that everything has been dealt with, but his body is still hot with adrenaline and he’s tempted to ask them to meet him for a run just to burn off some of this excess energy. 

The house is too still, too quiet. Anton knew Viago would be gone when he got there; the vampire had no reason to stay in his den when all of his comforts are at the other end of Wellington. But still, there’s a disappointment there, as unshakable as it is unreasonable. There’s so much they have left to talk about (and honestly, Anton wants to do more than talk). The thought of going into his bedroom and seeing it empty is almost unbearable, but Anton needs to shower and change, so it’s entirely inevitable. He slams the door open and immediately stops in his tracks. 

“Anton! What happened to you?” Viago is on him in seconds, hands running along the blood streaks on his clothes, tentatively ghosting over the cut on his cheek. “Please tell me you did not chase those hunters all by yourself.” 

Anton ignores his concerns for the moment, his brain focusing on only one, impossibly perfect fact. 

“You’re still here.” Anton breathes, wondering what it could mean. Hoping it means something . But then he takes in Viago’s hair, rumpled from sleep, and his smile which brightens the longer he looks at Anton. And his clothes . Viago isn’t wearing his torn and bloody outfit anymore, but rather a soft blue t-shirt and a pair of cotton slacks which seem to be hanging extremely low on his hips. Those were unmistakably Anton’s clothes, and seeing Viago in them makes something raw and wild flare in Anton’s chest. 

“Where else would I be, darling?” Viago smiles, bashful and unpresuming and Anton imagines him blushing here, looking up at Anton through his pretty lashes and he just can’t take it. 

Viago getting hurt. Their almost-kiss. Anton protecting him, killing for him. It’s all too much, and Anton can’t process it right now, but what he can do is prove, without restraint, what Viago means to him. So he hooks his hands in the collar of his shirt, the one Viago is wearing, and slams their mouths together. 

The kiss is quick, closed-mouth and chaste, almost, if it weren’t for the barely contained desperation when Anton pulls away and pants wetly against Viago’s jaw. 

“I had to keep you safe, Vi. I couldn’t let them hurt you again.” He admits, voice thick as his throat constricts with the raw conviction. 

“Oh, my love.” Viago cups his face in his hands and draws Anton up so their eyes can meet. “And yet you allowed yourself to get hurt in the process. Did you think that would please me, little wolf?” 

His eyes are so… sad . Anton would feel bad, if he weren’t so absolutely certain he’d do it again, that he would allow himself to get maimed and tortured everyday if it kept Viago safe. 

“I killed them, Viago.” He says in a rush. “All of them, because I wanted to protect you, and the pack. This doesn’t hurt, really, but seeing you scared did. So I’m not sorry, and I’d do it again, for you. I’d literally do any fucking thing for you, mate. Just so you know.” 

Anton tries to shrug it off because his cheeks are hot and his ears are ringing and he isn’t sure where this confidence is coming from. Maybe he’s still disorientated from the chaos of the wolf; maybe the last day has just been so surreal, it makes his feelings seem so normal in comparison. Or maybe he just loves Viago so much it’s overflowing, physically unable to be contained any longer. 

And it makes him nervous , because the only admission of feelings he’s had from Viago is that he wouldn’t mind kissing Anton, which isn’t - it isn’t a love confession. It isn’t the passion igniting Anton’s blood like gunpowder, or the devotion making him weak at his knees, prostrating helplessly before the vampire. 

He needs something from Viago, anything to prove he feels even slightly similar to Anton. He needs - 

Viago kisses his mouth, hot and fast and it leaves no room for any more denial. 

“I need you, Anton. Please -” 

Viago is clawing at his clothes, pulling at the stained fabric until Anton growls, backing Viago against the wall and kissing him properly, this time. His mouth parts, tongue running along Viago’s lips until the vampire gasps, opening up so easily for him. It makes Anton shudder, and then their tongues brush and everything else turns to static in his mind. How can kissing someone feel this fucking good ? Viago whines into his mouth, his hands pulling at Anton’s hair until Anton has to draw back for breath. 

When his hands drop to Viago’s waist, he realises how tiny Viago is, and it causes something primal in the wolf to howl. 

“Fucking shit , Vi. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this for.” 

He’s pressing sloppy kisses down Viago’s neck, stretching out the collar of the shirt to explore more of Viago’s body. 

Viago laughs, and it almost sounds breathless which… Anton is extremely intrigued by. 

“Oh I think I have, Liebling.” 

The thought of Viago wanting Anton in the same way Anton’s been desperate for it is too heady of a thought, and it has potent arousal spiking through Anton’s body. He wants to make their first time last, but he consoles himself with the fact that it’s only their first time; if he gets his way, every day will be like this from now. And that might be the most blissful thought of all. 

Anton drops to his knees and flips his fingers under the waistband of Viago’s trousers. Viago’s hipbone peeks over the top, and Anton can’t help but graze his teeth over it, needing to taste every part of Viago’s body, needing it like it’s the only thing tethering him to the world. And at this moment, Anton feels as though it might be. 

“Can I…” He raises a brow in question and Viago moans, his bottom lip caught between his sharp fangs. When his head tips back to rest against the wall, he nods rapidly, and that’s all the permission Anton needs before he’s dragging the trousers all the way down to Viago’s ankles. 

He isn’t sure why Viago not wearing underwear comes as such a surprise, seeing as he’s obviously changed out of his dirty clothes, but when his cock springs free, already half-hard and so fucking pretty, Anton gasps at the sight of it. He’s spent more time than he’d be happy to admit imagining this, picturing how Viago’s cock would look and feel and taste as he touched himself at night, and now he gets to experience the real thing. It’s enough to have Anton’s mouth watering. 

He uses his fingers to draw the skin back, revealing Viago’s tip, and even those small, careful touches have Viago at almost full hardness. 

“Shit, look at you.” Anton moans, nuzzling his face against Viago’s thigh as he breathes in the scent of him, undiluted by soap and linen and the outside world here. Here, it’s pure Viago, and it’s so good, so absolutely right , that Anton can’t help but sink his human teeth into Viago’s flesh. 

“Oh, please . So good, Anton. Feels so good.” Viago pants, a creature who doesn’t need to breathe being forced to draw in air because of how Anton is making him feel. It’s dizzying, and gratifying, and Anton knows he’ll never tire of it. 

He wants more . 

So he takes it.

The first press of his tongue along the underside of Viago’s cock is tentative, testing the weight and the taste on his tongue, but it has Viago bucking up and crying out and Anton had never really considered how Viago would sound before, his soft whimpers and gentle cries and swear words Anton isn’t even sure are used anymore, even in Europe. He’s rocking his hips against Anton’s mouth encouragingly, but Anton holds him in place, sucks the head of his cock into his mouth and holds it there for a moment. 

He increases the pressure, and Viago’s hands fly to his hair. 

“Fuck, Anton. You are too good for me.” 

Anton hums at the same time he increases the pressure from his lips, letting his tongue swirl around the tip, drawing beads of come from the slit. Viago trembles and groans and tries to fuck himself deeper down Anton’s throat further, but the alpha finds he enjoys reducing Viago to nothing more than a violently desperate creature; his cock is so hard in his pants, Anton is seriously worried the weight of Viago’s cock on his tongue will be enough to have him coming like a teenager. 

He can’t take it any more, chases the electric feel of Viago filling him so perfectly, and takes the vampire as far down his throat as he can. Every time he bobs his head up, he manages to take more, and it isn’t long before his nose is buried in dark brown curls. His eyes water at the feeling, cock pulsing as he feels Viago’s cock twitch in his throat. Then Anton pulls off to the tip and dives back down, setting a quick pace which has Viago on the verge of tears above him. 

“Oh my, yes . You feel amazing, taking my cock so well. I’ve needed this for so long, Anton, please give it to me.” 

Anton does, best he can, partly because he desperately needs it too but mostly because he can’t seem to deny Viago anything. 

Viago’s cock is pulsing on every movement now, his come tangy and unique on Anton’s tongue, tasting more like metal than salt which - makes sense, really. It still tastes good , tastes exactly right, and Anton moans with it, sucking harder, pushing himself faster, until Viago goes tense and keens out something close to Anton’s name followed by the greatest words Anton has ever heard. 

“Love you so much, sweet Anton. I love you, please -” 

Anton isn’t sure what Viago is begging for anymore; isn’t even sure that Viago knows, but his words paired with the warm spray of his come down Anton’s throat is too much, and the coil springs too tight. Anton comes, completely untouched, in his pants, shuddering in quiet delight as Viago continues to twitch between his lips. 

Anton’s jaw aches, and his throat burns, but nothing compares to the shame he feels when Viago pulls his cock free and pulls Anton to his feet, hands trailing slowly over the alpha’s thighs. 

“Now, let me -” 

He closes his hands around Viago’s wrists and averts his gaze. 

“Ah - there’s no need, actually.” 

For a second, there’s a drawn out silence where Anton kind of wishes the building would collapse and bury him underneath the rubble, and then Viago is saying something which doesn’t sound like any language Anton has ever heard but he’s able to get the gist from tone alone, and he pulls Anton into an urgent kiss. 

“You mean you - from touching me only -”

“Yeah, well…” Anton tries not to sound defensive, but he does feel as though his honour is on the line here. “I enjoyed myself plenty down there, Vi.” 

“ Shit . Next time, I am going to fuck you so well, the only thing you will be able to remember is my name.” 

Next time.

Anton shivers, his cock twitching in interest at the same time a bone-deep exhaustion starts to settle over him. 

He kisses Viago for a while longer, slow, open-mouthed and obscenely wet. Eventually he has to pull away, because his eyes are feeling heavy and his clothes are gross and he just wants to feel Viago in his arms, now. Not as a bat, or as a friend, but as the object of so much love and lust and veneration, Anton doesn’t know where to put it all, like he needs to hollow himself out to make room for it. He would, for Viago. For Viago, Anton would do just about anything. 

“Let me take care of you.” He mumbles, leading Viago to his bed. It’s an awkward shuffle with the trousers still around his ankles, and they laugh together at how absurd this all is. “Wait there, don’t move.” 

Anton grimaces at the feel of his own trousers but still races out the room, taking the stairs two at a time because he doesn’t want to be apart from Viago for long. The wolf cries with it, too. He stops at the kitchen first, pouring himself a large glass of water and grabbing a water bottle full of blood from the fridge. Then he stops off at the bathroom, and wets two flannels. He takes in his reflection for a moment, and flushes deeply when he sees twigs and leaves sticking at odd angles from his hair. It always seems to end up like this when the wolf has even the slightest amount of control, and Anton is mortified that he didn’t even consider checking his appearance before kissing the love of his life. He picks out as much as he can, resigns himself with a sigh, and runs back up to his bedroom. 

He’s panting when he gets there, but Viago hasn’t moved as Anton instructed, and offers the sweetest smile when he sees Anton again. 

“Hi.” Anton says dumbly, suddenly feeling bashful even though his throat still burns and his knees still ache. He ignores the pains though, drops to the floor again and abandons the water and blood next to him. 

Anton wipes Viago down gently, carefully, and pulls the trousers back around Viago’s hips, placing a kiss on his clothed-kneecap. 

“Loved seeing you in my clothes.” He whispers, and Viago hums in agreement. 

“I was hoping you wouldn’t mind, my clothes were becoming rather uncomfortable to rest in.” 

Anton shakes his head, starts to remove his own clothes under Viago’s hot and watchful gaze. “You can help yourself to anything you want, Vi. You know that.” 

His shirt falls to the ground and Viago’s hands fall to his hips, pulling Anton closer. 

“You know, I really must take you up on that offer soon.” 

Anton flushes deep, but twists out of Viago’s hold. 

“But first,’ Anton scolds, although both his heart and his cock are tempted by the notion. “You need to rest . We both do.” 

Viago whines but doesn’t protest further. He slips under the cover, arranges Anton’s wolves so they’re all lined up and safe from falling from the bed, and it’s such a small gesture, but so deeply endearing, Anton has to turn away before he really does let Viago do whatever he wants to him. 

Anton quickly wipes himself down, wincing at the mess on his thighs and boxers but he’s too tired for a shower now, and rather hopes Viago will join him for one after a small nap. He ignores Viago’s appreciative hum when he slips out his boxers, because the heat is spreading all the way to the tips of his ears and Anton isn’t used to this; isn’t used to being loved so freely, so naturally. 

And then it occurs to him; Viago had told him that he loves him. 

Anton hadn’t said it back. 

Still completely naked, half covered in dirt and sweat and blood and half covered in a deep blush, Anton swerves on his feet and meets Viago’s gaze from across the room. 

“I love you, Viago. So fucking much, actually. I just - you need to know that, yeah? I really, really do just - love you.” 

Viago seems stunned for a moment before he’s giggling, slipping further down the bed until his pretty brown eyes are barely visible. 

“Come to bed, silly wolf. You can declare your undying love for me all day after you’ve slept.” 

And I will , Anton thinks. He doesn’t reckon it needs saying, though; he’s pretty confident that Viago already knows. 

Anton finishes getting changed into a clean pair of boxers and a t-shirt that doesn’t smell like dirt and blood, and picks up the drinks he had brought from the floor. 

He places them both on the nightstand and stares in amusement at his crossword book. 

“You finished my puzzle?” Anton slips it from the table and reads the answers left in Viago’s perfect script. 

“Ah! It was most difficult in places, but I enjoyed the challenge.” 

Anton scans for the offending clue he just couldn’t quite get earlier. 

Six letter word for a soup dish.

“What the fuck is a tureen?”

“You really don’t know, little wolf? My mother used to make the most delicious soups when I was a boy, I could make them for you sometime. I still remember the recipes very vividly. They were rich with tomatoes, herbs and garlic.”

Anton stares at him pointedly for a moment. 

“It’s a lovely idea, but… better not. With the garlic.”

Viago frowns, then laughs, just as rich and vibrant as the food he’s describing; Anton drinks it in willingly, greedily. He’ll never get enough of that sound, he’s absolutely certain. 

“You’re very right, Anton. I will simply show you my array of ornate kitchen utensils when you next visit the house!” 

Anton doesn’t ask why a vampire needs an entire collection of kitchen utensils. He just doesn’t have the heart. 

Instead he slips into bed and raises his arm in the air so Viago can curl around him. He’s so cool against Anton’s feverish skin, always a little bit too warm because of the wolf. It’s so pleasant, almost too much, and Anton sighs into it, relaxes into the comfort Viago effortlessly supplies. He presses a kiss to Viago’s forehead and the vampire teases Anton’s collarbones with his fangs before nuzzling into his chest. 

They sleep like that, wrapped in each other, for that first night and every night after, as much as possible. Because it was the first night of many; the first night of a forever, brilliant and shining and perfect . 

Everything Anton kind of fucking dreamt of, actually.