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The setting sun cast waning orange rays through the windows, painting the room in warm colors that promised safety, and granted a warning for the night to come. Varka was sat at his desk pressed against the back wall of the office, finishing up the last of the reports he had to fill out with a quill and ink. The pointed tip scratched at the parchment lightly with each stroke, filling the otherwise silent space.
He glanced at the clock on the wall, the pendulum swinging back and forth rhythmically. It was almost time for him to head out. He didn’t have any hunts scheduled for today, and as long as he left before the rest of the hunters arrived to retrieve their gear and suit up, he wouldn’t be roped into any either.
With a final glide of his signature at the bottom of the paper, officiating the document, he set his quill into the holder and capped the ink, finally standing from his desk. His shoulders popped as he stretched his arms over his head, muscles pulling taut against the knots that had formed in his hunched position. He pushed his chair in, and headed towards the door. However, in his haste, he accidentally bumped into someone who was passing in the hall at the same time.
A small ‘oof’ sounded from before him, and Varka himself stumbled back a bit. He laughed softly, reaching out to help his vice captain straighten herself. “Sorry, Jean.”
Jean quickly righted herself before her boss, and dipped her head down in greeting. “No, sir, it’s my fault, I should have been paying more attention.” She said stiffly. Varka sighed. Formal as always, it seemed.
“You’re hunting tonight, correct?” He asked, and Jean nodded. “Yes, sir. There have been reports of shriveled wolf corpses in the outskirts of the forest, drained of all their blood, and recently a farmer’s sheep has gone missing. Our group is going to patrol the area and surrounding forest and search for evidence of vampire activity.”
“Sounds like a full night. Try not to overwork your trainees, most of them are still kids.” Varka said, and Jean nodded sharply. “Understood. As their senior, it is my duty to protect them. We won’t instigate a fight.” She replied, as if she herself wasn’t a kid just a few years ago.
Varka smiled, and gave her a short two finger salute as he returned to his original path down the hallway. “Good. I have faith in you.” He called from behind him, not needing to turn around to know that Jean had that starstruck look on her face she always did when he gave her recognition.
He slowed as he neared the corner, spotting a tuft of blond hair peaking out from behind the wall. Varka huffed out an amused breath, and greeted the eavesdropper with a hand ruffling his hair. Mika jolted, and looked up at the Grand Master sheepishly. “M-Master Varka—”
“Your spying needs some work. If I could spot you, a vamp could too.” He laughed, causing the boy to slump sadly. Mika’s brows furrowed, and his lips pursed.
“...You’re leaving early. Are you going to meet with him again…?” The boy asked, the latter part a hushed whisper.
Varka’s smile faltered slightly, and his hand fell back to his side. “Don’t worry about it,” He said, “You’re with Jean tonight, right? Keep the group away from west river.”
Mika deflated more. As Varka walked off, he heard a quiet “Please be safe…” Whispered in an anxious voice. Varka only responded with a dismissive wave over his shoulder.
…
The woods were peaceful at night, despite what the many ‘TURN BACK NOW’ signs may lead you to believe. If you could get past that small setback, it really was a wonderful place. The flora was lush and billowing, providing cover for all sorts of fauna big and small. The shade of the towering spruce trees was broken by a small clearing next to a river, where Varka was currently sat.
Crystal clear water flowed at a gentle speed. The riverbank was shallow, but deep enough that Varka could roll up his trousers and let the water run over his bare legs and they’d be submerged to the knee. It was one of his favorite spots for many reasons, not the least of which being the attention he attracted by a certain individual.
“Well, it took you long enough. I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.” He said, not bothering to look back at the figure he knew was there.
The shuffling of clothes and the crunching of dirt was accompanied by a small hum as they came closer. “Your senses are remarkable for a human, Master Varka.”
The footsteps came to a stop, and Varka tipped his head back, blue eyes meeting pale yellow framed by dark bangs. “You could say it’s my job to track vampires.”
Flins hummed again, and took a seat beside him on the bank, not touching the water. His legs folded, and he slumped forward, elbows on his knees, never taking his eyes off Varka all the while. Varka flashed him a sharp grin. “Come on, we’ve met enough now that you must know it’s no trap.”
“Forgive me. You have somewhat of a reputation.” Flins said, earning a laugh from Varka.
Varka had been with the Favonius Vampire Hunters for nearly twenty years, and in that time he had racked up a kill count well within the hundreds. He was something of a scourge to the species, and the reason many humans in the city could sleep easy at night.
“If I wanted you dead, you’d already be dead by now.” He stated, and the shorter man sighed.
Yellow eyes followed the lines of Varka’s body down his bare legs and into the water, narrowing just a bit in a way that had become familiar in the time Varka had known him. Silently, Varka placed a hand out, open palm, on Flins’ thigh. After a moment, gloved fingers knitted loosely together with his calloused own. Flins’ palm ground down against Varka’s in time with a tight squeeze, before releasing to draw up his forearm.
“There’ve been some reports of vampire activity around here. Someone’s been sucking wolves dry and snatching poor little lambs. Anything you might know about that?” Varka questioned as two gloved fingers traced along the large vein in his arm up to the sleeve of his tunic.
The fingers ventured up farther, squeezing in under the tight hem at his bicep and pressing in until they just couldn’t go any farther, compressed against the skin. Flins leaned back on his free hand and pulled his fingers back out to stroke up and down Varka’s arm, giving the muscle an appreciative squeeze. It was quite flattering, despite making Varka feel much like a piece of meat being appraised for purchase.
“Why would I have anything to do with it? I have no interest in animal blood anymore, not when you’ve been so generous.” Flins murmured.
Varka snorted. Slowly, he reached around for the zipper to his tunic on his back. “Alright, I get the hint.”
The zipper was slowly drawn down, revealing a gradually increasing sliver of skin. When the clasp at the neck was undone, leaving the tunic fully open, a hand almost immediately planted in the middle of Varka’s back, gliding over the taut muscles as he pulled it the rest of the way off.
“This is new.” Flins mused as he traced over a long, pale scar on Varka’s right shoulder, negligible in comparison to the much larger burns and gashes that adorned his back.
“How flattered I am you’ve memorized all the marks on my body.” Varka chuckled, tossing his tunic to the side where his boots were. “Noelle got me good when we were sparring. Slashed straight through my jacket.”
“That is unfortunate. It’s a lovely garment, especially on you.” Flins said, any apprehension he had arrived with clearly having faded as a second hand came up to caress his muscles.
The light touches continued on for a few minutes, until finally Flins’ hands retreated. He carefully pulled his gloves off, one then the other, and set them down on top of Varka’s tunic. Now bare, one hand pressed down on the middle of the blond’s chest, pushing him back until he was leaning up on bent elbows. Flins moved and settled on top of his thighs, looking down at Varka like a wolf to prey. His stomach growled, and soon after a set of lips were kissing near the bottom of the blond’s sternum.
Varka shivered, and a sigh escaped him as he relaxed into the hungered attention. A tongue ran up between his pecs while two arms wrapped around his waist, fingers digging into his lower back. Sharp fangs dragged along his skin, teasing the idea of a bite, but not following through just yet. Kisses trailed up along his collar bone, to his throat, pressing against his Adam’s apple briefly, before finally settling in the junction where his shoulder met his neck.
“I can feel your pulse, Grand Master.” Flins whispered, “You’re far too relaxed with a monster at your throat.”
Varka smiled, and tilted his head away, baring the column of his neck even more. “Your kind doesn’t scare me.” He said.
Cold lips curled up just the tiniest bit against skin, and in an instant, sharp pain bloomed out from the twin punctures where Flins’ fangs were driven in. They cut through the flesh like a fork through tender meat, sinking in with a moan and a shudder from their owner. Varka hissed in a deep breath, and laid a hand over Flins’ back as the stinging pain spread out, down his arm, into his chest, and up to his head. He knew, though, that it wouldn’t last long.
Fangs were withdrawn out and replaced by a wet tongue, laving over the wound as it spilled rich, red, human blood. The taste filled the vampire’s mouth, droplets slipping past his lips and running down Varka’s chest. His lips and tongue worked in practiced tandem to coax the bite open wider, to suck out the life nectar inside, to swallow it down in large gulps, slowly warming his stomach. The more that tongue rubbed into and against the wound, the more his hungered saliva invaded Varka’s bloodstream, the more the pain numbed, until there was no pain at all.
The impression of vampiric saliva into the human circulatory system was a pleasant buzz. It was comparable to the effect of alcohol, Varka thought, though when he went out for a drink after work, he didn’t feel nearly this drowsy or pliable. His vision grew blurry as his pupils dilated, eyes rolling blearily around in his head before settling back on Flins. An amused huff left his lips as Flins slowly pushed him down, all the way onto his back, taking advantage of his weakened muscles and sedated prefrontal cortex.
There was a reason the hunters had a rule to flee if any members of the party were bitten. Were Varka a younger, less experienced, or simply weaker man, he would have fallen victim to the overwhelming assault on his senses, would have been washed away by the tide of euphoria and left as perfect prey. Luckily, Varka was not a weaker man.
He could tell from the languid way the vampire’s mouth was now moving against him that he was getting full. Varka reached up, and knitted his hand into the Flins’ long hair, yanking his head back from his neck. Flins made a small noise as he was tugged away from the wound, jaw flexing as he nipped at the air. His eyes drew over to Varka’s, and although the blond couldn’t make out the details of his face, he could certainly make out reflective yellow and scarlet red. Quite a bit of red, actually.
Varka snickered as he thumbed at the dripping remnants on the corner of Flins’ mouth, dragging it over his bottom lip to further stain far too pale skin. “Aren’t you a messy eater…” He teased, and Flins responded with a low hum. “Only when it’s you.”
Oh, what a flirt.
Flins’ eyes drifted to the wound on Varka’s neck, then to his lips, and back to his eyes. Slowly, he lowered down, closing the gap between their lips, but before they could meet, Varka’s hand clapped over Flins’ mouth.
“Nice try.”
Flins hummed once more, and reluctantly pulled back, instead tucking his face away into the unmarred side of Varka’s neck. “Keen as ever.” The vampire mumbled, eyes sliding shut as Varka’s hand began to rub slow circles into his back.
It really was for the best he cut him off here. Their deal was that Varka would offer enough blood for Flins to subsist off of without hunting other humans or animals, not that Varka would act as an all-you-can-eat buffet for the vampire at his beckoned call.
Gentle rubbing and patting lulled Flins quickly into a light doze, his stomach full and instincts satiated. Varka snorted at the other man as his weight went slack on top of him, a fond smile spreading across his lips. Like this, quiet and peaceful in Varka’s arms, Flins looked almost cute.
“Sleep tight, Kyryll.” Varka whispered as he rolled them over.