Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s cold.

Scott insisted keeping a watch was pointless— that the chill would keep them locked inside, huddled around their hearths and shivering from more than just the winter air.

Owen’s had enough of listening to Scott.

Really, how smart can he be? He turned two people on the same day, blew the cover of two thirds of their coven, and still he seems to think the humans will meekly sit by and deliver animal sacrifices if he bares his fangs and puts on a show of force.

No. Scott is wrong. He’s the worst kind of person for the gift to have been bestowed upon, and Owen would have half a mind to seal him back in that tomb if he had any stomach for holy writs.

So Owen finds a good tall tree at the edge of the forest and watches.

From here, he can see the back entrance to town. Shelby agreed to cover the main entrance when Owen phrased it as ‘keeping watch for the undead attempting to break the perimeter’ so she’s off on the opposite side, and he has her word that she’ll fly over to warn him if a large group mobilizes.

The waning blood moon creeps over the starless sky and Owen lets his leg dangle and swing, back and forth, back and forth— a silent metronome marking the minutes of quiet. Elsewhere in the trees, night animals scurry about, but they steer clear of Owen’s branch; at this level of power, the wildlife can sense the presence of a predator, and they know to leave a wide berth. They needn’t bother. Owen is well-fed from draining the town’s cattle, and anyway, he’d have to be starving to bother with such small creatures. Something that can muster just a cup or two of blood is hardly worth the indignity of chasing it down.

Something shifts, drawing Owen to full alertness. There— at the edge of town, a figure garbed in dark cloth slips through the back entrance and moves through the grass. His eyes narrow, focusing in on their gait to identify which human was foolish enough to brave the night’s cold. It could be Apo or Cleo, of course, but they’re under strict instructions to keep their status concealed, and leaving town in the middle of the night by themselves would do them no favors in deflecting suspicion.

But it’s neither of them. As the figure draws closer, Owen realizes with a jolt that it’s… It’s Legundo.

Why? Why is he out this late? What could possibly be so urgent he’s willing to risk everything pursuing it?

Owen decides he’s going to find out.

Tailing a human through the woods undetected is laughably easy. He leaps deftly through the treetops, landing soundlessly on the boughs and tracking Legundo’s progress down the path from the corner of his eye. He could only be given away by the quieting of night animals in his vicinity, but Owen doubts Legundo could hear them to begin with.

Half a mile down the path, Legundo pauses, looks around, and sighs heavily. He breaks into the woods proper and continues his solemn march. Where is he going? They’re nowhere near any of the beacons or crypts, and there are no landmarks in this direction. The closest point of interest is a dilapidated cabin to the north but even that can barely be differentiated from the woods around it.

They press on for another fifteen minutes. Legundo’s cloak catches in a thorny bush and he’s forced to stop and disentangle himself; that’s as good an opportunity as any, Owen supposes. While Legundo’s back is turned, he drops down from his tree and plants himself directly in Legundo’s path of travel, hands tucked into his pockets and posture relaxed.

Legundo turns back and blinks hard. No startled cry, no stiffened muscles, no thrumming fear to quicken his pulse. He just looks at Owen like he’s bumped into a friend unexpectedly.

“Good. I was starting to wonder if you were coming.”

Starting to… What? Owen puzzles over the words, brows furrowing.

“You were looking for me?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ve decided you want to accept my gift.”

“No.”

Owen frowns. “I was very clear with you, Doctor.”

“I know,” Legundo says, pursing his lips for a moment, then turning an earnest, pleading expression to Owen. “But I just had to try one last time. I understand that you don’t want help, and I understand that you think this is better, but— please. Let me at least try. You shouldn’t have to live with the burden of knowing your survival means inflicting suffering on others. You deserve so much better than that.”

Ah.

Owen’s feet move of their own accord, pushing him into Legundo’s space. Legundo only backs up when he has no other choice and in a few scant paces, his back hits a tree trunk. Owen seizes Legundo’s biceps and leans into his face, leaving only a small gap between them.

“I’ve killed thousands, Doctor. I didn’t spare the women and children. They screamed and begged and cried, and I slaughtered every last one.”

Legundo lets out a slow breath and says, “You said before that the people of Oakhurst took everything from you. Did you kill them because of that?”

“Yes.”

“We don’t have to be defined by what we did in our lowest moment,” Legundo murmurs. “I won’t say what you did was okay, but… I still don’t believe you’re a monster.”

Owen jerks to the side, pressing his fangs against Legundo’s throat with pressure just shy of what it would take to break the skin and spill his blood.

“And if I rip out your throat? If I give you my gift and make you one of us?”

Legundo sits statue-still, but his voice doesn’t waver as he replies, “You aren’t going to hurt me.”

“I could end your life before you even know what’s happening.”

“I know you can. But you won’t.”

A growl rises from Owen’s chest, and Legundo still does not flinch. The brave ones pissed him off the most; they stared with burning eyes and shouted their holy words and tried to drive him back, no matter what horrors they had been made to bear witness to. Worst of all, it was a false bravado. A mask. Their thrumming rabbit hearts gave away the terror in the end.

Legundo’s heart pulses a slow, steady rhythm in his chest.

Owen pauses.

Beat. Beat. Beat.

He’s…

He isn’t lying.

Beat. Beat. Beat.

Legundo actually trusts him.

A noise breaks from Owen’s throat. Legundo’s hands, previously stiff at his sides, slowly come to rest feather-light on Owen’s back.

“You’re not a monster, Owen,” Legundo repeats. “You just want to live in peace and acceptance. I’m going to help.”

“Don’t,” Owen whispers.

“I have to.”

But he’s misunderstood.

For the first time since Louis— for the second time in his existence— someone has seen him.

And he is utterly unprepared for the way that makes him feel.

He draws back from Legundo’s throat, takes his face in both hands, and kisses him.

“There,” he says, releasing Legundo and taking two large steps back while he fixes his eyes on the forest floor. “Do you get it now? Everything about me has made me an outcast. Even if I were human again, and even if you could somehow fix my illness— I still wouldn’t belong. There is no future for me in humanity.”

“Owen.”

He can’t bear to look. This is an ancient shame, and one he can’t so easily swallow; purging Oakhurst was his way of righting a wrong, but this? This has no answer. This has no balancing force.

“Please, look at me.”

Owen shuts his eyes, draws a full breath, and meets Legundo’s eyes.

The warmth and acceptance he finds there drives the air from his pointless lungs.

“I don’t know what things were like for you two hundred years ago,” Legundo murmurs. “But times have changed. Cultures have changed. Marriage between two men or two women is fully legal and recognized by the Citadel. I won’t say everyone in the realm is completely accepting, but… The vast majority are. And I can tell you that from experience.”

“You’re…?”

He nods.

“…Oh.”

Legundo closes the space between them with small, even steps.

Owen watches him. When Legundo is only a couple of feet away, he plants a hand on his chest to stop him.

“Don’t— don’t. I still don’t want to be changed.”

“Alright.”

Owen stares up into Legundo’s eyes. He isn’t wearing his monocle, so his view is fully unobstructed. There’s a well of kindness in those eyes, but there’s also a depth of pain, too. Hard-fought and sorely-won wisdom always leaves those shadows behind.

“Alright,” Legundo repeats, softer this time. “But let me at least stay with you tonight.”

“…Why?”

“Because you’re my friend, and you’re hurting. I want to be here for you so you don’t have to go through it alone.”

“You’ll freeze out here.”

“Not if I make a fire.”

Owen’s lips quirk. “And set the forest ablaze?”

“Well, I seem to recall there being an old cabin nearby. I was thinking we might go there.”

“…Sure.”

They walk together. Owen lets Legundo set the pace, but every time he falls back a half step, Legundo pauses until they’re lined up again. The third time his hand “accidentally” brushes Owen’s, he gives in and links their fingers together, ignoring how Legundo gives him a comforting squeeze and hums with quiet contentment.

The old cabin rises in crumbling stone walls and drooping eaves. Inside, lichen and moss have crawled along the ancient bricks to form a facsimile carpet, but the hearth remains barren. Old scorch marks tell that story. How many travelers have stopped into this breezy shelter to hide away for an evening? How many lit a fire and spent a night huddled beside it, clinging to the warmth the old stone sought to steal?

…It doesn’t matter. What does is that the chimney looks clear when Owen peeks inside, and there’s a small collection of kindling stacked beside the blackened wrought iron grate over the opening.

“Can you handle getting it started?” Owen asks. “I can go chop some proper firewood in the meantime.”

Legundo eyes him a moment, and Owen sighs.

“I’m not trying to ditch you, Doc. I could fly off whenever I want.”

“No, I know. Just— Apo said you dropped all of your silver gear in town before you left. How are you going to cut the wood?”

Owen hefts the stone axe from his belt over his shoulder.

Legundo’s brows furrow. “Is that… Stone?”

Owen rolls his eyes. “I was a lumberjack in my human days. I’ll manage.”

“…Alright,” he concedes, dropping to kneel before the hearth. “Just be careful.”

It’s almost laughable— he’s telling a vampire to be careful going out. But Owen isn’t in the mood to laugh, and there’s no hint of mirth in Legundo’s voice, so he lets the moment drop and slinks back into the open night air to liberate some trees of their thicker boughs.

When he returns a short time later, Legundo has a solid blaze going. Owen takes a few deliberately heavy steps on approach to alert Legundo to his presence, then wordlessly hands him one of the smaller logs to feed into the flames.

Bit by bit, they coax new life from the slain wood.

“…I’m sure you have questions,” Owen says, keeping his eyes fixed on the glowing embers deep within the fire. They’ve settled to sit on the floor, knees close to touching, but not quite.

“Plenty. But you don’t seem especially in the mood to discuss.”

A small smile quirks the corner of his mouth. “That’s rarely enough to stop people asking.”

“It’s enough for me.”

“I’dve thought you’d jump at the chance to interview someone of my… Disposition.”

“Sure. But I’m not in the business of forcing people to do things they don’t want to.”

Owen huffs a small laugh. “Guess not.”

“…Do you have any questions for me?” Legundo asks. “It’s only fair I extend the offer.”

Owen swallows an automatic denial and makes himself actually consider. He’s been asleep for a long time. Things are apparently very different to when he was mortal; this might be his only chance to ask someone what the world is like, now.

Well— he could ask Shelby or Pyro, he supposes, but… Shelby’s a weirdo, and Pyro’s walking around calling Scott his “sire” unprompted, so. They may not have the most unbiased views. No. Legundo’s his best bet.

“Can two men really… Properly be wed? Were you serious about that?”

“Of course. That was put to law when I was a boy.”

“…How did that happen?” Owen rubs the back of his neck idly and frowns. “People were still being dragged to the town square and hung for that kind of thing in my day.”

“Well… It wasn’t an easy process. It took a long time, and a lot of people were hurt, but ultimately, enough of the world was willing to stand up and fight for what they believed in that it became impossible to suppress them all. Things started changing bit by bit. It was just decriminalization at first, and then allowing modified legal bonds, then… Just normal marriage. And it’s been that way for… Oh, twenty years now?”

“Huh.”

It’s hard to even conceive of it. The idea that he could go out and publicly admit that he’s held another man in his arms and face not just an absence of persecution, but acceptance? That’s not something he can wrap his head around just yet.

“Do you… Have you, uh… Told anyone? About you?”

Legundo shrugs. “A few people, yes. Previous partners obviously had a clue, but I also told my parents before they passed, and my sister.”

“You have a sister?”

“I do. She lives in the Citadel. I haven’t seen her in years, but we send letters a few times a year. She and her husband run a small library on the outskirts of the city.”

It’s easy to imagine Legundo as a big brother, protecting and teaching his little sister things about the world.

“Did you always want to be a doctor?”

He laughs. “No. I lived a very different life in my young adulthood— one I’m not particularly proud of, if I’m honest. But I came to realize I needed to make a change, and with my existing skills, this was the best path for me to actually make a positive difference in people’s lives.”

“Rotten luck you ended up here,” Owen murmurs.

“Not at all.”

Owen looks at him, and Legundo looks back with all of that accepting warmth from before.

“I go wherever there are people who need my help. And even if they don’t always want it… I’m glad I can at least be here to let them know they have the option.”

The urge to look away is overwhelming, but Owen refuses to let himself. “…You’ve no shortage of people needing help, around here.”

“That does seem to be the case.”

“On the whole, I’m not sure I rate a midnight visit.”

“I disagree.”

“Oh?”

“You hide it well,” Legundo says. “But you carry immense pain, don’t you?”

“I…”

“Perhaps this is wishful thinking on my part— and do tell me if that’s so. But maybe what you need is to take a leap of faith.”

Owen frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… Sometimes, the most effective way to overcome fear is to face it head-on.“

“And… What is it exactly you’re supposing I’m afraid of?”

Legundo’s eyes flick briefly but unmistakably to Owen’s lips. “Trust.”

“Trust?”

“When undergoing great loss, it’s so easy to lose sight of the future. We fixate on the present anguish and convince ourselves that nothing will ever feel good again— that this pain is all there will ever be. But that isn’t true. And the fastest way to escape that illusion is to face the terror of trusting that things will get better.”

“How? How do I face it?”

Legundo slides his hand across the mossy stone beneath them and bumps his pinkie into Owen’s.

“You could start by letting yourself have nice things.”

“Nice things,” Owen repeats, fixing his gaze on the point of contact between them. “Like what?”

“Well… I can’t speak for your preferences, but… If it were me…”

Owen drags his eyes back up to Legundo’s. “Hm?”

“If it were me,” he continues, “I’d welcome another kiss. Longer, this time.”

The blood he’s consumed in the past day allows warmth to flood his cheeks. “And… Then what?”

“Then… Maybe having the person I’m kissing sit in my lap, so I can hold him properly. And we could just… See where the night takes us.”

Owen slides his hand to rest overtop Legundo’s. “And if it were you… Where would you want it to go? What would you hope for?”

Beneath his fingers and echoing in his ears, Legundo’s heart finally picks up speed.

“I’d hope to make him feel good however he’d let me. I’d offer him my hands, my mouth— anything he wants.”

“What if what he wanted was to make you feel good, Doctor?”

“Then I’d say… I see no reason we can’t work together toward a mutual benefit.”

A small, breathless sound spills from Owen’s parted lips.

Leap of faith, huh?

This time, he leans in slowly, giving Legundo time to process what’s happening before brushing their lips together, soft and tentative. Legundo doesn’t pull away, doesn’t stiffen, doesn’t recoil; his eyes flutter shut, and he leans into Owen, kissing him sweet and gentle.

And that’s… Fine. It’s fine! Nice, even.

But it’s hardly a leap, is it?

Owen pulls back, swings over to straddle him, crosses his wrists behind Legundo’s neck, and stares down at him through where his bangs have fallen into his eyes. Legundo blinks up at him, then reaches to shift his hair away with the unwavering precision of a surgeon and a touch light enough not to disturb an insect wing.

That won’t do.

“I’m not going to shatter, Doctor. Touch me.”

It breaks a spell. That’s the only logical conclusion, because the instant the words are out of his mouth, Legundo’s hands are roaming his back, splaying broad fingers and stroking the divots of his spine through his coat and tunic while he kisses Owen like his lips are the only place on Earth he can find oxygen. Desire razes the careful barricades between them and Owen kisses back with equal fervor, permitting himself a soft, pleased noise when Legundo parts his lips and invites Owen into his mouth.

Legundo’s stubble scrapes a pleasant burn against Owen’s jaw. Heat radiates from him, and everywhere Owen trails his hands, he finds taut muscle and sturdy strength beneath his fingertips. His body differs so starkly from Louis’s. Careful lithe and spindly fingers were the first aside from Owen’s own to touch him, and they were so gentle in coaxing entry to the most intimate and vulnerable places possible.

They had one single night together before humanity tore Louis away forever.

“You should feel this with mortal flesh,” Louis had said. “It will still be good when you awaken, but it will be different.”

He had accepted. He would have accepted anything Louis would give him.

Now, he knows Louis was right. Sensual touch by his own hand translates very differently to the heightened senses of a vampire in ways that can make the experience feel so small if you let it. But the emotional component is amplified. Everything about Legundo’s heat pressing into Owen’s body screams with how right it feels, and he’s immediately certain that turning down Scott’s casual offer of meaningless fun was the right thing to do. He trusted Louis with his first time as a human, and he trusts Legundo with his first as a vampire.

“Doc,” he says, refusing to let their lips part and speaking the word right into him. “D’you have anything slippery?”

“Slip— oh. Um. I think… Yes. Yes, I have— I have some tincture bases that would work.”

“Good. Because I might actually die for real if I don’t get you inside of me.”

Legundo flushes so red he practically glows, and Owen can’t help his grin.

“I’m not as young as I used to be,” Legundo warns.

“I’m sure you’ll manage.”

“Just— my stamina might not hold up. It has been… A long while. And I don’t have any prophylaxis with me.”

Owen sighs, soft and fond. “Then I’ll ride you, old man. We’ll make it work. And I literally can’t catch anything from you, and vice versa, and vampires don’t produce waste, so we don’t need a barrier— unless you want one for some other reason…?”

Legundo shakes his head. He looks so handsome with his pink cheeks and wide eyes, kiss-red lips hanging open and slick with both of their saliva.

“You’re pretty,” Owen says.

Legundo’s mouth snaps shut. He swallows. “Thank you. You are, as well.”

“Thanks.” Owen shifts one hand to thread into Legundo’s hair. “You mentioned a tincture?”

“Oh! Yes. It’s on my belt— here.”

He produces the glass vial and holds it in the firelight for Owen’s inspection. Owen could see it just as well in a pitch black room, but he opts not to mention that because he’s a bit too focused on making sure he gets his fill of Legundo.

“Not much in here,” he says. “We’ll have to be careful not to waste it. I’m not the most coordinated with doing this kind of preparation for myself, so…”

“I think I follow,” Legundo breathes, drawing Owen into another searing kiss, then withdrawing to liberate him of his cloak.

They trade kisses and stripped clothing, using discarded articles as barriers between their increasingly bare bodies and the mossy floor below. Legundo is down to his trousers when he reaches for the bottom of Owen’s undershirt, and Owen stiffens reflexively. Legundo raises his eyebrows in an unspoken question.

“No, it’s— I’m fine. It’s just been a long while since anyone has seen me without…”

He draws a breath, taking in the earthy tones of burning oak, the sweet iron of Legundo’s blood and arousal, and the tang of sweat.

“My condition left me with many scars. They’re much more visible beneath my clothes than they are on my neck.”

Legundo’s eyes soften. “Owen. I can promise you, I have seen far, far worse.”

“…I know. It’s just…”

“You don’t have to explain it,” Legundo murmurs. “If you want to stay covered, that’s fine.”

Owen huffs, screws up his courage, and shirks his undershirt off.

Legundo’s eyes stay focused on Owen’s face, but his hands trace up Owen’s back, coming to settle just below his shoulderblades.

He doesn’t need to say anything. Even as his gaze sweeps down across the mottled skin covering Owen’s torso so he can focus on undoing his belt, there’s not a hint of judgement or disgust on Legundo’s face. His heart quickens, but it’s paired with a strong waft of the heady scent thickening the air from their mutual arousal. He very clearly likes seeing more of Owen— having more skin to feel beneath his steady palms. And Owen is not too ashamed to admit that he likes how much Legundo likes it.

He spent most of his life as the unwanted outcast; of course he likes feeling wanted.

They expose one another to the fireglow and pause a moment to admire. Legundo’s body is scarred and rough in several places, but his dick stands proudly in a setting of dark, coily hair peppered with gray. Owen’s own cock is a bit smaller, but one would think it the most grandiose sight ever to grace the visual world if judging purely by how Legundo studies it with wide, eager eyes.

“Wow,” he says.

Owen fails to stifle his laugh, but Legundo doesn’t seem to take it personally.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, dripping earnestness.

Owen isn’t lying when he replies, “So are you.”

In life, Owen wasn’t exactly skinny; the hard work of procuring lumber for the town lent him strong, wiry muscles and a sturdy frame. But his natural metabolic disposition and lacking nutritional intake refused him the bulging tree-trunk arms he’d seen on some of the other laborers, so he’s always remained somewhat stringy despite his deceptive strength.

Legundo was either better fed or genetically disposed toward a bulkier frame.

All of that to say, his fingers are much thicker than Owen’s.

They’re also a good deal steadier and far more experienced. Louis had made it good, of course, but Louis had also… His tongue had been involved. Legundo has Owen slipping two fingers between his frontmost teeth and biting to stay grounded with only two slicked fingers working him over.

He tucks Owen’s hair, now down and loose from the tie, behind one ear. “Still feeling good?”

Owen releases a breathy groan and nods.

Legundo cups his cheek and smiles, so unbelievably tender that Owen has to shut his eyes to keep the flooding emotions from sweeping him past the point of no return. It’s hard to accept that another person would look at him that way— much less someone who knows what he’s done.

“Another,” Owen says.

Legundo obliges.

His skin prickles in that familiar way that signals he would be sweating right now if he still could. Legundo is sweating; it’s not excessive, just a slight sheen from their proximity to the hearth, but it’s very human, and Owen likes the scent of it, likes the taste beneath his tongue when he leans forward to kiss Legundo’s neck while the man works him open.

There is no prickle of fear even with Owen’s fangs so close to his throat. Even naked to the night, his trust in Owen not to hurt him is absolute.

Owen nudges Legundo’s jaw up to draw him into a kiss. He doesn’t mind that the rhythm of those methodical fingers within him stutters in response, but it makes him smile, and Legundo huffs a self-effacing laugh.

“Sorry. It’s a bit hard to multitask when I’m so… Distracted.”

“Nothing to be sorry about,” Owen murmurs. He laps into Legundo’s mouth to emphasize his point, and Legundo’s hand goes completely still for several seconds while they explore this point of connection.

Legundo easily identifies the point within Owen’s body that brings the deepest kind of heat, given that Owen gasps openly into his mouth when his probing fingers brush over the spot. He disconnects their lips to focus on not cumming while Legundo strokes that point with slow, steady purpose.

“Do you like a lot of prostate stimulation?”

Prostate? Must be what that place is called. Louis had simply referred to it as a pleasure point, but Owen supposes Legundo would know the proper anatomical term.

“Dunno,” he loosely replies, pushing down onto Legundo’s fingers to coax more sensation from his molten core. “Can’t— ah— can’t say I’ve tried much.”

“Do you want me to…?”

Owen laughs under his breath. “Yeah, go on.”

Legundo pulls his fingers from Owen’s hole, letting the air pass over the place where he’s unused to being so open, and adjusts their positions with gentle, guiding nudges to Owen’s shoulders. He settles on his stomach with his knees pulled halfway up his chest to prop his back half up, and Legundo places a warm palm against his ass and presses a kiss into the small of his back. Owen smiles into the gathered bunches of his cloak where he rests his head.

“Please don’t hesitate to tell me if this stops feeling good,” Legundo says.

“‘Kay.”

His fingers slip back into Owen’s body with all the ease of a blade in a sheath. Owen sighs and lets his eyes fall shut, focusing on the pleasant warmth of the fire and his companion and how both have sparked something deep within him that he’d thought dead and buried when he saw Louis burnt. Perhaps Legundo is right; there could be more to this second life than the prison of grief and rage he awoke into all those years ago.

Then Legundo finds that spot again, and the heat and curling rapture chase out the past. With this angle and positioning of his hand and wrist, Legundo can pass over his prostate over and over unimpeded, and Owen finds his brows hiking and his nostrils flaring at the wash of sensation rolling out from his center to carry tingling sparks all across his skin. The pleasure is so defined and present that his fangs pop reflexively. This is somehow more embarrassing than the huffing whines and breathy moans that have been steadily leaking from his throat since the second finger, and Owen has to suppress the instinct to cover his mouth. Legundo can’t even see his face from this angle, and regardless, he wouldn’t judge Owen; he probably wouldn’t even understand what he was seeing. How could he? The man only started believing in vampires two days ago, and it’s not like there’s a guidebook for any of them to read.

Owen certainly didn’t receive one, anyway.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Owen grunts, because Legundo ought to know he’s doing a good job— and because he couldn’t really stop the words if he wanted to.

“Do you want me to stick to this? If you spread your legs a bit more, I can reach you.”

He considers a moment, then shakes his head into his cloak. “No. No, you’d better get in me before… Before.”

Legundo withdraws from him once more and again guides Owen, this time to lie on his back with his legs splayed on either side of Legundo’s hips. Owen grabs a handful of cloth— his pants and Legundo’s surgical gown— and rolls them up to slide under his ass to help the angle while Legundo carefully scoops the remaining tincture out of the vial and spreads it over his cock.

Legundo pauses with his dick nudging Owen’s hole, and Owen speaks just as the doctor opens his mouth, cutting him off. “Fuck me, Legs. I want you.”

He smiles and presses indulgently forward.

It’s— so much.

Legundo fills him perfectly and coats Owen’s throat with his musky arousal, and just beneath it, there’s the steady thrumming beat, beat, beat pushing life through his body. Firelight reflects off of the silvery scar tissue cutting a line over half of his face, expression pinched with focus but still uncompromising on the scarlet swirling just beneath his skin.

How easy it would be to take. He’d need only lean up and sink his fangs in, and what could Legundo do, flushed with arousal and naked in the middle of the woods? Owen could take a small drink. Or a big one. Or he could bleed Legundo dry and give him the gift he has thus far adamantly refused.

He could do any of those things.

And he won’t.

“Fucking hell that’s good,” Owen pants as Legundo slips gradually into him, rolling like swells on the lake to introduce more of his cock at an even, manageable pace. “You’ve done this before, huh, Doc?”

“I have. But it has been many years.”

“Doesn’t show.”

Legundo chuckles and leans down to kiss Owen, short and sweet. “Flatterer.”

They kiss again as Legundo comes to rest fully seated in Owen, and Owen catches himself tapping the steady beat of Legundo’s heart into his leg. It’s hard not to sway to that rhythm when he can both hear it and feel it within himself, filling him, holding him— protecting him.

What a strange thought. Legundo, Owen’s protector? Owen could lift his whole body with one hand, could shatter any bone with a single blow, yet… Here, in his warm embrace, with his cock stretching Owen open, he feels… Safe. Safer than he ever has after his awakening. This fragile little mortal intent on stripping Owen of the final gift given by the first person to ever accept him… Makes Owen want to curl up and fall asleep with a big hand carding through his hair and the scent of pine soap and musk in his lungs.

“Alright if I move a bit?”

“Very,” Owen breathes.

And Legundo does. Slowly. Deliciously. His cock drags inside of Owen and ignites yet hotter flames with every inch. It’s the best kind of burn, like stretching sore muscles, like tasting the sun, and it’s all for him, all because Legundo trusts him so completely that he freely offered his body to a monster.

He doesn’t think you’re a monster.

Owen draws a full breath of Legundo and lets his eyes flutter open.

“Faster.”

Legundo complies, speeding the sway of his hips against Owen, taking up careful grip of his ass to lift his hips just a few degrees more— and it’s just right to give friction against the pleasure point, to sail yet more waves of intensity up his spine and down to his toes.

Owen gasps and reaches for Legundo on reflex, finding his bicep and the juncture of his neck and shoulder in each hand. Legundo turns his head to kiss Owen’s outstretched thumb, and when it twitches, he— opens his mouth. Inviting. Beckoning. Owen presses the finger past his lips and pets down the velvety length of Legundo’s tongue while he seals his lips around it and sucks.

“Fuck, Legs,” Owen pants, enamored by the sight. Legundo’s rhythm breaks down a bit— multitasking while distracted again— but he couldn’t care less, with the compromise of Legundo licking the pad of his thumb and sucking it like— like a cock.

He has definitely done this before.

Owen slides his thumb out, and Legundo peers down at him through his lashes and lets his tongue fall past his bottom lip. He freely accepts Owen’s pointer, middle, and ring fingers, letting him push them slowly deeper, knuckle by knuckle, all while Legundo keeps up a stuttering pace of thrusts. He pushes down experimentally, pressing Legundo’s tongue against his jaw, and Legundo moans. The vibrations travel up Owen’s fingers to his wrist and he gasps, dizzy and a bit delirious.

All at once, the weak stutter of Legundo’s hips isn’t enough. The ever-present thirst yields to a different sort of hunger, and he pulls his fingers from Legundo’s mouth so he can reply freely to Owen’s next request.

“I need more, Legs. Need it hard. Fast.”

Legundo’s brows pinch and he draws a quick, full breath. “I won’t be able to maintain that for long.”

Owen’s lips curl into a grin and he laughs, airy, giddy, stupid and cock-drunk. “Said I’d ride you, didn’t I?”

“Oh— are you sure?”

“Doctor,” Owen says, taking Legundo’s face in both hands. “This is the most sure I could possibly be.”

They adjust. Legundo takes Owen’s place on the hearth-warm pile of clothing, and Owen climbs into his lap, seating himself comfortably and finding a good balance of weight to maximize his control. The finishing touch comes from Owen taking Legundo’s hands and planting them on his hips, and then he’s off, and fuck, is he ever off.

It takes a few experimental shifts to find the right angle so the head of Legundo’s cock brushes his prostate, and then Owen locks it in, plants his hands on Legundo’s shoulders, and starts up a rapid pace of fucking himself. Legundo cries out and grips his hips tighter, trying to surge up to meet him, but Owen isn’t at all bothered with his moderate success. He’s too focused on bouncing on Legundo’s dick with the force and speed his body craves, letting the earlier tenderness bleed into a more raw and carnal sort of desire to sate the yawning void hunger within. It feels right and Owen makes no effort to suppress the whines and grunts bubbling up his throat while he works himself over without mercy.

It’s all poor Legundo can do to keep up. “Shit, Owen, you’re so— holy hell. So beautiful.”

Owen laughs, open and free. His hair falls in loose locks that curl at the ends and tickle his bare back and shoulders. It bounces with him, flying wild, and there’s Legundo’s big hand again, tucking it safely behind his ear. It will surely fall out of place in seconds, but he does it anyway, and—

And the look in his eyes carries all the radiant resplendence of the sun.

“You close, Doc?”

Legundo’s rabbit heart thumps away. He nods.

“Where d’you want to finish? Inside, or on me?”

His hips snap up, and they’re both surprised by it. “You— you’d let me— inside? Or on you?”

“Yeah. Fuck, of course.”

He tries to consider. Owen watches the gears gnash and grind while his head is so completely occupied by pleasure, and he can see the moment Legundo abandons logic and makes a snap call. “On you.”

“Tell me when to stop,” Owen murmurs into his ear, then picks up the pace even further until he’s practically slamming his hips down into Legundo’s.

It does not take long.

“Fuck— fuck, Owen, now, now—”

He pulls himself off of Legundo’s cock and splays out while Legundo shoves himself upright and takes his shining red cock in a tight fist and works himself over with short, rapid strokes. He cums with a choked cry and paints Owen’s cock and stomach with stripes of white.

It’s unfair how hot he looks, panting, flushed, holding his softening dick with loose fingers. His eyes are unfocused and his breath is ragged and Owen wants to freeze this moment and keep it forever.

Short of that, he mops up a healthy amount of Legundo’s cum from his stomach and uses it as lubricant for his own cock. Legundo chokes on his breath and stares with wide, hungry eyes.

Owen gives as best a show as he can manage.

He reaches the end of his tether and leaps past the edge without fear. It isn’t quite the same full-body experience of prostate stimulation, but a hand around his dick has reaped him plentiful orgasms over the course of his existence, and this one is aided in no small part by the everything of the situation. The moment burns into his mind, taking residence in a place he’d thought only Louis could reach, and it disturbs him for a moment to see another face there, but the feeling fades quickly.

He trusts Legundo to occupy this space in his heart.

And isn’t that one hell of a thing?

“…Wow,” Legundo says.

It’s a few minutes later. Owen lies atop Legundo with his cloak draped over their bare bodies.

“That was… Truly special, Owen.”

Owen turns to meet Legundo’s eyes and smiles. “Yeah. For me, too.”

“I’m glad. I can already tell I’ll be sore tomorrow, though.”

“Hah! You’re telling me.”

“So vampires get sore muscles?”

Owen pauses. “Actually… Maybe not. I’ve only… I haven’t done this since turning.”

“That would be a nice perk.”

“Yeah. Guess we’ll see.”

“Guess so,” Legundo murmurs, voice soft and sleepy.

Quiet settles. Legundo breathes deeply and evenly and his heart beats with steady contentment under Owen’s ear. In minutes, he’s fast asleep with a hand loosely draped over Owen’s back.

Legundo is deep in the dreaming dark when Owen rouses him with a soft touch to his shoulder.

He’s alert in an instant— of course he is, the man spent his youth as a soldier— and his eyes search out Owen in the dimly glowing embers.

“It’ll be dawn soon,” Owen says. “You should get back to town before the others wake.”

Legundo shuts his eyes and nods. He sits up slowly, taking time to stretch his shoulders, his arms— and Owen admires every inch of bare skin exposed by the cloak slipping down to pool in his lap.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, and Owen’s heart might have skipped a beat over the husky rumble of his voice, still thick from sleep.

“No soreness,” Owen replies.

Interest sparks in Legundo’s sleepy eyes. “Huh.”

“I guess it makes sense. I’m dead.”

“Perhaps.” Legundo rubs at his jaw, then the back of his neck. He winces as he climbs to his feet and Owen’s at his side in an instant, helping him up. “Thanks. You might not get sore, but I do. My back did not enjoy sleeping on the ground.”

Legundo creaks and groans through the process of dressing. Owen watches and thinks of how he slept in the dirt for 200 years and sprang upright without so much as a popping joint. Why anyone would choose to retain the aching decay of humanity is beyond him, but… Even in the pinched discomfort on Legundo’s face, there’s something more beyond it— some innate satisfaction from the pain.

He thinks of how it can be a pleasure to burn.

Then he thinks of spending ten minutes every morning methodically wrapping linen over blistering sores and lesions so as not to offend polite company.

“I don’t suppose you’ve reconsidered my offer,” Owen says, helping Legundo into his surgical gown.

“No. I’m afraid not.” Legundo smooths the linen out over his chest and collects Owen’s cloak from the floor. He holds it up in offering, and Owen turns to let him drape it around his shoulders. “Have you reconsidered mine?”

He turns back with a forlorn smile and shakes his head.

“Well.” Legundo says. “It still stands.”

“As does mine.”

They move in synchrony to exchange a short kiss, then draw apart.

“I’d offer to walk you back, but there’s too high a chance someone will see us together.”

Legundo nods. “Yeah. Yeah, they… Are certainly predisposed toward jumping to conclusions.”

Owen snorts. “Bit more polite than I’d put it, but we’re in agreement there.”

He thinks for a moment while Legundo stretches his arms above his head, making his back pop.

“Actually— I could walk with you. But you won’t be able to see me.”

Legundo raises an eyebrow. “Another vampire power?”

Owen grins, and Legundo’s eyes go wide as the cool wash of sympathetic shadows cloak him completely from view.

“I’ve only just regained this one. It’ll last about an hour— that should be long enough to return to town.”

Legundo laughs under his breath. “My invisible pal. That’s what my parents called my imaginary friend when I was little.”

“This one’s not so imaginary.”

While Legundo played with a fake friend, Owen slept in the blood-rich soil.

“I’m counting on it,” Legundo says. “We’d better get going.”

They don’t speak all the way back to town, lest someone wandering nearby were to overhear, but Owen sticks close enough to brush their hands as they walk.

At the edge of the woods, he catches Legundo’s palm with his and they link fingers. Slowly, Legundo brings the hand up to his mouth— appearing for all intents and purposes to be scratching at his nose or stifling a yawn— and he presses his lips against Owen’s knuckles.

Owen grabs his ass, and Legundo jumps and barks a startled laugh. He looks around and composes himself quickly.

“See you around, Doc,” Owen murmurs.

Legundo dips his head in a quick nod, then continues out into the tall grass surrounding Oakhurst.

Owen melts back into the treeline and lets his cloaking fade.

“That was so cute!”

He startles hard. Owen whips up and zeroes in on Shelby, perched in a nearby tree with her face in her hands.

“Christ, Shelby— you scared the life out of me.”

“Oh! Sorry about that!” She tilts her head. “I figured you knew I was here, since you told me to be?”

Right. Of course. In the excitement of everything he’d gotten up to last night, Owen completely forgot his original purpose in keeping watch. Good fucking thing nothing else happened last night.

“Right. Well. We can probably call it now; they’ll be heading out to claim beacons soon, and we should regroup with the others and make a plan for how to respond.”

“Sounds good to me!” Shelby swings off of her branch and lands neatly at Owen’s side, brushing pine needles and dirt from her skirt. “D’you think Scott would let me look through the tombs for some better clothes? I’ve been wearing this skirt since I got here, and I think the river water actually made it dirtier, somehow.”

Owen gives a half shrug. “I don’t see why not.”

Shelby grins and clasps her hands. “Great! I’m really hoping to find something red, since, y’know, that’s kinda the vampire color. And it’ll make it easier to clean up if I accidentally spill some while I’m drinking from the cows and sheep. But I’d also be fine with something black, or maybe purple…”

Owen half-listens to her continued chatter as they take bat forms and head in the direction of the castle. He can’t help his mind drifting back to the events of the previous night; the echoes of that emotional intensity still ring in his chest, warming his blood and soothing a bit of the furious, spitting beast that hatched from the calcified wreckage of his heart after seeing Louis burn.

Nothing can replace what he’s lost. But Legundo isn’t trying to replace anything. He’s been open about his intentions from the start; he wants to help.

And maybe…

Maybe Owen can let him.

Not with the gift. He wouldn’t give that up for anything.

But with the other part. With letting himself have nice things.

With learning to trust that the world won’t rip his happiness away the moment he lets his guard down.

…He’ll make one last attempt today. The next time Legundo is out alone, Owen will offer his gift. And if Legundo says no, then so be it.

But he’s going to try.

And that feels like progress.