Archive of Our Own

"—oh,” said Anton, and took a big step back on those long long legs. “Right, yeah, no, that’s fine, obviously.”

Viago made a face. Put up his palms. This was very awkward. “Ah, Anton. It isn’t you, it’s—”

“Oh, god.”

"—me. You forget I am a vampire.” Long dead, set in his ways, really not down to give language sensitivity workshops to his roomma—okay Deacon, and also Anton was quite well trained most of the time but who could say the same about those other wolves he hung out with? Not Viago and not Anton, that was for certain. No, better to just nip it in the budding. “It could never be between us. It would be very good for one or two hundred years—”

Anton’s big, pretty eyes widened and closed. There was a deep pink flooding his cheeks.

"—and then you would start to run out of all that wolfy energy and I would still be a vampire and we would fight about whether you left the blackout shades open in the mornings and about why you didn’t like the very nice scarf I found for your birthday and then you will die and I will only have you in my dreams. Forever.”

Anton took an audible breath. “I wasn’t—mate I was asking if you wanted a shag. Not to, like, recreate Titanic or whatever.”

Ah. Well. “I do not want to move to America,” Viago said gently, and allowed himself one last poor decision: he looked at that bulge in Anton’s pants. The big—the very big—

Viago dragged his gaze back up Anton’s body as slowly as the horrible Tarjay jacket allowed. “But I will write very detailed letters to you if you do.”

There was no reason for Anton to run away so quickly. The post was much better these days and the Internet also seemed to be quite fast.

;;

“Fuck him,” said Deacon as soon as he heard a version of what happened, an hour and a half after it didn't take place. “Fuck him and whatever wolf-horse he rode in on. Fucking wolves, am I right?”

“Yeah,” Viago said enthusiastically, and toasted Deacon. “Fucking wolves!!!!”

Viago had spent the last hour alone mostly wallowing. Wallowing and idling in his coffin. And trying not to feel regretsy. But eventually Deacon had got home from his night on the town with some of the guys from the neighbourhood rugby league and went poking around the kitchen for alcohol with dinner, and then there was the chase around the house, and now the two of them were here eating leftovers together and talking about boys. It was all very delicious and Viago was absolutely loving it even if it was very bad timing.

Deacon squinted. “Bad timing? Bad timing how?”

“I mean after he left I got very into thinking about what we might have been doing if he had not left.” Those big hands and irritability when interrupted and dedication to getting things done and that nice bulge and things. Viago suppressed a lovely shiver at the thought. Well, he suppressed it just enough that Deacon would notice him suppress it. “And now the silk in my coffin needs a cleaning, but, ah."

“Ahhhhh. No more,” Deacon snapped his fingers a couple of times before the name came to mind. “Jackie. So you’re left cleaning up your own spunk.”

Viago nodded glumly. It was very old silk and probably it would be hard to go to sleep smelling the evidence of his own mistakes.

Deacon shook his head. “All that time I spent grooming her. Wasted. Fucking Jackie. No, you know what? Fucking Nick.”

That was something they could agree on. "Fucking Nick,” Viago said, and they toasted and drank their leftovers again. The rugby boys had had a much higher tolerance for alcohol than he did. It was giving him quite the buzz.

;;

Vladislav came back right before dawn. Like, not even exaggerating, right before, it was actually quite worrying except that Vlad was obviously a very old vampire who knew what he was doing and did not need worrying about. Also it was fine because honestly Viago could just give Vladislav the short version now and the long version when they all woke up. This was Big News.

Back to now. Deacon was all wide-eyed. “And then—get this, Vladislav—Viago said—”

"I said, Anton, I am not looking for a big commitment. I am not wanting to move in with you. But I would not say no,” Viago thought about what could have happened and curled his tongue deliciously around the word, “to a fuck.”

So Viago had embellished on a detail or two here and there. So sue him.

Vladislav frowned. “And to all this he said—”

“Literally,” Deacon said loudly, and pounded his fist on the table. “He literally said—”

“I mean you see him,” said Viago, gesturing around the whole Anton-less space that was the kitchen right now and sidestepping that issue of what was literally said or not because after all it wasn’t that important really and what was one little fib in the grand scheme of eternal life. "Not here. I said: I am here. I am begging you. I will literally choke on your giant werewolf dick. I will suck you down and inhale your dick like I did the air, when I still needed it. I said, it has been very many years since I needed air, Anton, how much practice do you think I have had at not needing air? And what did he say?”

Vladislav, unlike Anton, did not disappoint. “He turned you down anyway.”

“He turned me down anyway.”

“Wanker,” Deacon breathed.

“Wanker,” Vladislav agreed.

“Werewolves,” said Deacon, “am I right?”

“I tire of their antics. Tonight we—” said Vladislav with a sneer, and “Yeah, about fucking time,” said Deacon, both at the same time as Viago said, “You have never been more right, Deacon.”

Then he heard all of the other parts of the conversation and felt a teeny tiny pinprick of concern, nothing to worry about really, and said, “Hmm? Tonight? We? We what was that, Vladislav?”

Vladislav’s lip curled. “We break into the wolf house using my powers of hypnosis, tie them to a bedframe, alone in whatever room they find themselves in, and drain them slowly. They heal quickly—like dogs—and they will be forced to live their own deaths many times until eventually even their animal bodies are too depleted to recover. We leave them lying in a pool of his own blood and away, as if we never were there.”

A chill swept over Viago. “Is all that really necessary?” he asked. Too hesitantly. He attempted a breezy laugh and was not successful at it at all, not even to his own ears. “A pool of their own blood? on the floor? That seems,” he scrambled, “a little wasteful, Vladislav.”

“It is werewolf blood. It is the only place for it,” Vladislavs said coldly, and then, “you are lovesick. And dicksick. It is not your fault.”

“That will show Anton what happens when you turn one of we three vampires down,” Deacon crowed. He bared his teeth. “He will wish he could have a second chance. But no. He will be dead.”

“All of them?” Viago said. This had all gone very badly wrong. He did not want anyone to die in a pool of his own blood. Or well, he did not want Anton to die in a pool of his own blood. Not for the next one or two hundred years, anyway. Who knew what would happen in that time.

“All of them,” Vladislav said, and was then briefly stricken. “Not Stu. Obviously.”

“Not Stu,” said Deacon. They both looked pleased with themselves for remembering.

;;

Everyone was hungover next evening. Vampire hangovers were very unpleasant. Like, you try being undead and having a very low alcohol tolerance anyway and then not being able to go and eat a big greasy breakfast to soak up all the poison you ingested. And then also having to think about all the reasons you’re waking up alone in a smelly coffin instead of together with a very attractive, impatient werewolf who apparently had thoughts about proper ways to use your mouth and things.

Viago heaved a deep unnecessary breath, then peeled himself out of his coffin. Then his clothes.

He ran himself a bath with all the trimmings: nice and deep and steamy, lots of rose petals, a cinnamon stick, a couple of pints of goat’s milk, some vanilla-y candles balancing on the windowsill, a new loofah. A frozen blood bag crushed into one of the crystal goblets, with a crazy straw and a little umbrella. Viago got in and shut his eyes to think about the Anton problem.

He opened his eyes a minute later. A whispered conversation was happening outside the door.

Viago lifted his head back out of the water.

"—told him that wolf was trouble, they are all the same, they are all about the chase—”

“Yes and I do not think that I told you so is the right way to cheer up Viago,” Vladislav said, sounding like he had said it many times already. “If you were him, what would you like better? ‘Hey, Viago, I told you so’ or “hey, Viago, here is a gold platter with the wolf’s severed head on it, and here is another one with the viscera, and here is the dick he denied you, and he is not good enough for you anyway’?”

“Trick question. I would not have let the wolf deny me in the first place.”

“Deacon, if you do not want to be helpful the front door is right there.”

“Did I say I don’t want to be helpful? I am saying if you want me to engage with your stupid roleplays, make it something that I would actually do. Not this bullshit, it’s like you never met me before.”

“We are supposed to be talking about what Viago would do!”

“Viago will probably cry and not come out of his room for six months.”

“We could distract him with an orgy,” Vladislav mused.

"Now who’s talking about what Viago would do?”

Viago made a wobbly face at the ceiling. It had not even been a whole day. He had the best flatmates ever, indulging him in a little drama and gossip. How many vampires could say that about their flatmates?

“Viago,” said Vlad. “We are coming in.”

The door opened. Viago craned his neck to watch as they traipsed in, both of them looking a touch the worse for the wearing even though neither of them were starting their night broken-hearted so they didn’t really have anything to complain about, did they? “Hiii guys.”

Deacon did his cool-guy lean against the sink. Vladislav took the spot by the window and frowned first at Deacon, then at Viago. “Hello Viago. How are you feeling?”

“Oh, you know.” Viago pouted. “It is fine. Anton is allowed to not want me.”

It was technically not what Anton had said. But still it was totally fine if it was true now. Viago had met other dudes who did not want him and that was fine. For instance the guy from the other night at the bar had been a very tasty snack. Viago was not planning on eating Anton now or anything but if Viago could be reasonable about not being wanted by attractive men, he could probably be reasonable about not being wanted by attractive werewolves.

Facking hell it was one thing telling little fibs to his flatmates and something else telling them to himself. Viago needed to course-correct before things got even more out of hands. He opened his mouth to explain, and then sat there like a trout or something while he tried to come up with the right words.

Vladislav didn’t look bothered. He scoffed. "Anton is not allowed to not want you. Anton should be grateful just to be asked. Anton should be right now be on his,” wait, was this, was Vlad really going to, “knees with his mouth open and your spend in his eyes and on his tongue, and thanking you for it.”

Viago spluttered all his way down under the water. Great. Great! As if the day was not already bad enough, now bye bye went that favourite little fantasy! And now he was drinking soap water. Yeurgh.

He came back up and scowled at Vladislav, trying to console himself with the knowledge that with the way things were going, he would never find himself in a position of needing to reject an opportunity to turn fantasy into a reality anyway.

Soggy rose petals lapped at his chin the way that Anton never would now. Viago batted them away. “He isn’t doing that, is he. And that is fine. I don’t care.”

“It is not fine. I care. We are going to tie him to a chair and trail molten silver down his bare chest and nipples until he is howling in anguish. By the time we are done with him—” and well, Vlad was off.

Fortunately this was not a favourite fantasy. Viago was not really much of a sadist, as vampires went, and one ritual torture chamber was probably enough for any vampire household. And the house was quite old. Who could say how much werewolf the load-bearing beams could really take? No one wanted to get three hours into a ritual flogging only for the load to come down on your head halfway through, no matter how appealing the thought of all that pale arching back crisscrossed with fine bloody lines.

So Viago waited politely for Vlad to run out of steam before continuing. “No, look, guys. It’s fine, really. I have already had one undead/dead romance and look how that one turned out.”

A moment’s silence for Katherine, who had been ninety-nine going on a hundred and thirty, flirty and thriving for exactly one month before falling asleep with the door cracked or something like that, Viago wasn’t completely sure of what happened there but it was all totally sad and thank goodness Katherine had had almost an entire century on earth to make up for the present eternal damnation et cetera.

Anyway, “I am just saying maybe it is unwise to go from one nundead thing to another so quickly.”

“Totally different situations,” said Deacon with a snort. “There was a big chance that Katherine was your soulmate. If you had still had a soul. But Anton is the guy you go to when you want to get treated like the lady of the manor.”

Viago exchanged a dubious look with Vladislav. Deacon was mostly only into ladies and he had a way of talking about fucking guys that resulted in everyone fumbling the landing.

“Or when you want to ride someone to the brink of death and then in your final moments, let him turn you over and fuck the orgasm right out of you.”

Sometimes he managed to get it just right. Viago unglazed his eyes. “So I should fuck Anton is what you are saying.”

"Yes,” said Deacon. He exchanged his own look with Vladislav. “I thought that was what we were talking about.”

“Ah. Yes. Obviously.” Oops. “But he doesn’t want to.”

Deacon pushed off the sink. "Viago, come on man. So the werewolf doesn’t want to fuck you. Well, fuck him.”

“I do not think the configuration was the problem.” But oh, how Viago would have liked the opportunity to find out if it was.

“No, I mean literally fuck him. The wolf doesn’t want you, who cares? There are plenty more fish in the sea. Get back on the horse, make the beast with two backs with another beast.”

Vlad blinked. “Not—not the actual Beast, obviously. Hahahahahhaha.”

“Hahahahahaha,” said Viago soothingly, glancing at Deacon so the look travelled full triangle between the three of them.

“Someone else though,” said Deacon. “Someone more suited to you. Like. Like. Well there are lots more wolves out there.”

Viago opened his mouth to reply. But first there was a knock on the foggy window and a, “Hi guys,” so instead he yelped. Water sloshed. “Who is—fucking HELL Nick? Is that you?”

They were on the second floor, this was inappropriate and annoying and this was a trying enough day as it was and Viago did not want to deal. He sank lower in the water and hovered there like an alligator.

Nick lifted a hello on the other side of the glass. “Yeah. Hi guys.”

“Nick!” Vladislav snapped. “We have told you before to use the doors! We like these neighbours, we do not want to have to kill them.”

“Yeah, I know, but. Will you let me in, though?”

“Well since you are already here—” said Deacon, who had recently started showing a bit of a soft spot for Nick.

“No! No!” said Vlad. “No window entrances!”

From his place below the bubbles, Viago remembered that Nick hadn’t heard about the events of this morning yet. It wasn’t very friendly to leave someone out of the know, especially a fellow vampire, especially a vampire who was also a local werewolf ambassador.

Viago lifted himself out of the water a bit. “There is no need for that tone of voice, Vladislav.” He gave Nick a big smile and and his hair a bit of a shake and peeped out at the one window visible behind Nick’s shoulders. All was dark except for one skinny crack of light breaking through the middle of the curtains. Viago knew who slept behind those curtains. “It looks like only Blonde Lindsey awake right now. She would not be such a great loss.”

“Maybe to the bottle blonde with your roots showing community,” Deacon said, and everyone snickered.

Viago continued. “And it looks like it might rain.” After all what was a frosty starlit sky if not a trap for the unsuspecting vampire. “If he gets wet and then he comes inside then he will get the carpet—”

“Whatever he has to say, he can say from the window,” Vlad hissed. “Or he will never learn.”

Oh well. Viago gave Nick an apologetic look, like, what can you do? Sometimes you share a house with someone 500 years older than you and you have to accommodate his old-fashioned ideas about things like entryways. That is just how it is when you are in a multi-generational living situation.

Viago took a nice, readying sip of bloodsicle. Nick could talk from over there which meant he could listen from over there. He felt a little thrill at getting to tell it all again, and balanced his goblet on his knees and curled and uncurled the fingers of his other hand over his kneecap. “So, Nick. You weren’t there last night but have I got the story for you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.” Viago hugged his knees closer. “You may not know that Anton and I—”

“Oh, yeah, right. Already saw that lot today mate.”

Viago’s good mood plummeted like so many lead balloons. How disappointing. And also concerning. “Oh really?”

“Yeah, they were having a right barney about the whole thing. Looked a bit hairy for a minute there but Stu snuck me out through the woodshed so it was fine.” Nick gave him an eyeball. “Thought you liked Anton?”

Viago sputtered. “I—what—” this was not good, this was very not good. Why had he fibbed to Deacon? Why had Anton decided to go about spilling Viago’s secrets to people like Nick? Why had Nick not mentioned any of this earlier? What if Anton had—

Nick was looking at him strangely. He was trying a new thing lately where he let his face do the talking for him. It was, in Viago’s private opinion, not a very good strategy because Nick’s face was not a very pleasant one to look at it so it was easy to look away from, when you had a good reason to look anywhere else. Nick still had not got the hang of drinking just enough blood to not look like a particularly bloodalicious human while also not looking like he had dressed in the pallor of death. But every vampire came to supernatural beauty in their own time so whatever.

Viago didn’t have any good reasons, nor had he come up with any good new lies. The truth would have to do. He lifted his chin. “I do like him!”

“Well you carked that one, didn’t you? What’dya go and—”

“Okay you know what I do not appreciate your tone, Nick!”

Nick shrugged. “Just didn’t think you’d be the one to—”

“Hahahahhahaha,” said Viago in a panic, and flew up and out of the bath to yank the window closed, followed by the curtains. "That is enough of that!”

“Viago, if the wolves are declaring another war on us then I think we should know about it,” Vladislav said with a frown.

“Specially if it means we can get the drop on them.” Deacon rubbed his hands together like he was a villain in a movie. Viago managed not to roll his eyes but it was a very near thing.

“Guys?”

“We are not getting the drop on anyone,” Viago said loudly. “And especially not on the werewolves. I am sure they are not declaring war on us, guys, I will handle it.”

“And what if you are wrong? What if the next time we see you you are in pieces?” Deacon looked pointedly at all the pieces of Viago that could apparently be separated from the other pieces.

Viago lifted his chin. “Then you can kill the wolves. You can do to them whatever you like. But like I said—”

“Guys it actually is raining now.”

“Should have thought of that earlier, shouldn’t you.”

“But—”

“Window is not a synonym for door, Nick!”

Half a second passed. The door handled downstairs jiggled. “Front door’s locked.”

Everyone rolled their eyes. Viago especially felt he did not need to put up with this right now. He had a headache and his bloodsicle was melting and he wasn’t even in the mood to have his wank anymore. “I promise I will tell you if I need you to avenge me. I will leave you a note or something. I know, I will send you an ess em ess.”

Deacon nodded. “But! First you get back on the horse.”

“First I have a bath the way I was trying to all this evening,” Viago said firmly. He started ushering his friends towards the door. Honestly sometimes it was all he could do to keep up this living situation, the guys had no idea how lucky they were that he was still there. “Shoo.”

Vladislav’s gaze dropped. “You know there is a nice oil under the—”

“GoodBYE,” said Viago, letting the door slam behind them.

He stared at the door, at the paint flaking off the frame, but no one tried to come back in. Vladislav was going back to his room and Deacon was clattering down the stairs like a croquet ball and Nick was typing on his cell phone by the front door.

Back to his bath. Obviously now Viago knew about the oil it would be a shame not to add some to it. He dug around in the cabinet and emerged to shake a couple of drops of peppermint oil into the water with the rest of smelly stuff and sank back into it with a sigh.

No one was demanding to know what really happened last night, which meant they were probably all already well on their way to forgetting and moving on from the whole situation.

;;

Forgetting and moving on and being a new man was much harder when you didn’t have anything clean to move on in.

Viago knotted his dressing gown tighter and wrinkled his nose at his clothes on the floor. His mood, temporarily buoyed by the smelly soak in the tub, sank down into his stomach again. It was really too bad that Deacon hadn’t done a better job of keeping that familiar around. Just another six or eight years would have done it, although on second thoughts she hadn’t tried very hard to find them virgins to eat recently so maybe it was for the best that someone else be put to work. Technically it was Petyr’s turn to find a familiar this time, but since poor Petyr had been burnt up by a rogue beam of sunlight, Viago supposed it was only fair that they draw up a new rotation for sourcing familiars. Or maybe since it was Nick’s fault that Petyr wasn’t around to take his turn, Nick could tag in. The point was that it was not Viago’s turn any way you looked at it.

Acknowledging that still didn’t solve the current problem. He could spend a night or two in his dressing gown if he had to but eventually he would have to go out and find dinner for himself and de-misting in your birthday suit seemed like a bit of a nasty way to do it. Like, oh, this is a funny bit of mist, and then oof! you’re being flashed by a very attractive looking man, and then before you know it the attractive man is eating you alive.

Viago surveyed the messy remains that lay between him and the rest of his afterlife, and tried to decide what to do about the Anton situation.

Everyone re-materialised as soon as Viago tromped down the stairs. It was all obviously totally coincidental and the worst part was that Viago couldn’t even call them on it because they were being supportive of him and things. Viago had had some bad nights but so far this was shaping up to be a really sucky one and not in a tasty way.

Vladislav was hovering on the far side of the piano with a lumpy trash bag on the floor next to him. “It is good to see you up and about,” he said earnestly. “How are you feeling now?”

“I am hardly at death’s door, Vladislav.”

Vladislav indicated the front door. “You are as close to it as it is possible to get. Anyway that is not what I meant, what I meant was—”

“Are you doing some laundry, Viago?” interrupted Deacon as he strutted out of the kitchen. “Good idea, get out of the house. Hey here’s the funny thing, I was going to go myself to do laundry tonight but since you are already going and it would be rude to leave our guest alone—”

Vladislav frowned. “What guest?”

Deacon looked over his shoulder. "Unless you have any laundry to do, Nick? Viago is going. Viago here are my clothes. Also Vladislav gave me some clothes to do too, they are all in there.”

“What? Nick is not a guest, Nick is a pest if anything, Nick is a—”

“I am not offering anything,” Viago said loudly over Vlad, who could sometimes take things like, really far. He ignored whatever oh no thanks Viago I’m good thanks mate gesture Nick was making from the sofa because Viago didn’t need Nick to do him any favours. “Actually, Deacon, even for you and Vlad I am not—okay give it here.”

So now Viago was walking through the chilly damp nighttime with a giant pile of bloody clothing to sort into lace and satin and whites and used to be whites and darks and Vladislav’s sexfits. It was all heaped into a baby carriage that a human had left behind at the house seventy or a hundred years ago and which had then been shoved into a cupboard somewhere after dinner, minus the baby obviously, Viago had no idea what had happened to the baby, but the carriage did the tricks for the laundry in these doing his own laundry days.

And still he was no closer to figuring out what to do about the Anton situation.

Fortunately Viago had now watched enough 90s movies (1990s movies) to know that a good place to sit and think was a 24-hour laundromat. The one nearest the vampire house was mostly empty and had one or two empty machines and also the sorts of overhead lights that made everyone look like they might walk up and drink your blood at any moment, according to the old familiar, so Viago felt like he must fit right in. Tonight it was just him and a couple of students canoodling by the dryers and Gregor behind the counter who would probably become a midnight snack at some point, which was unlucky for him then but hey, today was his lucky day because he did not even blink at the sight of Viago wearing one of the rugby boy’s jeans and his hoodie, of all things.

Viago shoved Vladislav’s things into the washer first, then leaned back against the washing machine opposite.

Having turned Anton down, there were now, he decided, three options. None of them seemed like good options but to be fair, neither did drinking someone’s blood when you were facing death, and look how that had turned out! Now Viago was an amateur potter and a burgeoning musician and blood was messy but very delicious. Vampiring was not a bad way to be at all.

Okay so the options.

One. Never see Anton again.

Well. That should be easy, Viago thought, watching a wide dark harness thump its way through the spin. He had gone three hundred years not even knowing Anton existed until the last couple of months, cutting that all out right now should be fine.

The problem was that you had one conversation about wolfing/batting out under the moonlight next to the dishes Deacon still hadn’t fucking cleaned even though they had guests over and suddenly your head was full of foolish ideas and then you couldn’t get rid of the man and you didn’t want to. Admittedly Anton was not actually a man, he was a werewolf, but once you got past that he was an easy werewolf to spend time with; he liked lots of the same things as Viago like German films and wearing skinny jeans and very tight t-shirts to Boogie Wonderland and he burnt very easily for a person who chose to spend his days out of doors so he was pretty happy with hanging out in the nighttime instead.

If he was very honest with himself, Viago already knew that he didn’t want to never see Anton again. He had known that for quite some time, it was why he had been ready to turn Anton down. Obviously it had not gone very well exactly but to be fair to Viago, how was he supposed to know that beforehand?

So no to option one.

Viago felt a wave of relief and repositioned himself against his washing machine.

Option two. Option two was pretend nothing had ever happened. They went back to being close friendly acquaintances who liked hanging out together at parties and occasionally falling into each other’s gaze and licking blood from their teeth at each other. But also, importantly, acquaintances who were neither having sex nor combining their book collections, nor, even more importantly, thinking about it.

He would need Anton to get on board but perhaps they could have the conversation via—

Viago stood up straight. “Phone.” Perhaps Anton had texted him already! Viago would check. They might already be on the same page. And if not, there was a text speak for everything. There had to be something that covered the key parts of Listen Anton, I Am Really Embarrassed About Misinterpreting Your Very Sexy Moves On Me, I Think We Should Ignore That Last Night Ever Happened, What Do You Think.

If only he had brought his phone with him, he might already have been out of his misery. Of course he also might have been more miserable, he could only imagine what sort of dreadful things Anton might have said to him. Something like hi Viago, it has been fun but I think we should not see each other any more. Or Viago, actually I’m going to take my pack to the Americas, see you in fifty years maybe or maybe not. And that took them on to option three, which was—

“Viago?”

Viago whirled. “Who is ask—Anton?”

It was Anton. Anton was standing right there with his pile of wolf clothes and his big eyes and his big mouth and his arms and his nice smile and the way he carried himself very upright even though it was deep in the night and he must be very tired, and also the way he was looking at Viago right now.

“All right?” said Anton in that very polite way he had, and shuffled his pile of clothes that clearly mostly didn’t belong to him. “Didn’t expect to see you here, of all peop-er.”

Viago stared at him. It was very lucky that he didn’t have a heartbeat because it would have given him away very quickly, what with Anton being a supernatural thing with supernatural hearing. “Did you forget where I live? Never mind,” he said quickly, because if so he didn’t want to know. “It is right around the corner. Jackie,” he hesitated: did Anton know who Jackie was? “Jackie was Deacon’s—”

“I know who Jackie is.”

“Oh. Well, just checking. She told me that this is where I should do laundry until we found a new familiar.” Viago chewed on his lip. “What are you doing here?”

“Closest twenty-four hour laundromat I could find.” Anton was looking off to the side instead of anywhere near Viago. He sounded very tired, although his posture hadn’t changed. His pile of clothes was very large. “Didn’t think you’d be here or I’d have gone somewhere else. Sorry mate.”

“It is the closest laundromat to my house.”

“Yeah, well. Also the closest laundromat to mine. Sorry.”

“Why wouldn’t you have come here?”

Anton blinked and his gaze flickered to Viago once or twice. “I mean it’s fine. Just, you know.” He gestured. “Bit awkward, isn’t it?”

Facking hell. This was the opposite of what Viago had been wanting. He put the lock on the baby carriage and pushed off against his leaning washing machine to stand up in front of Anton. “I did not mean that to happen. I do not want to be awkward with you.”

“Well no, obviously. No one likes having to do the awkward thing, do they?”

Viago took a big deep breath. “Yes. No. I mean, yes. But with you especially.” Awkward was not something he had ever had to do with Anton before and now look, it was like, negatively consuming them. Not at all what Viago had been aiming for.

Anton really looked quite awkward.

“Look. Anton. Here is the thing. I did not mean to—okay please put your clothing into the machine.”

Anton put his clothing into the machine. Viago watched and then, because when you were three hundred years old you learned, against all the odds, that there was no time like the present, he said, “Okay so here is the thing. I did not mean to say no to your advances.”

Anton went a horrible shade of pink over his still-massive laundry pile. “Advances, is that really the word you’re—all right advances. Never mind. Let’s. Let’s focus on the important part of that. Mate you gave me a whole breakup speech. Not to mention a pitying shoulder pat. You said that it could never be between us.”

Viago looked more closely at the buckle now smacking against the glass. His deadbeat heart was deadbeating. “I meant that I didn’t mean to say no to you. I meant to say … there are other options than no, or yes.”

“Such as?”

“Such as …" Viago sucked another breath through his teeth. Suddenly it was very hard to look at Anton. Like they were the wrong ends of a magnet, bouncing off each other. “Such as yes for now. Yes until you say no.”

Anton was quiet for so long that the magnet thing stopped. Viago dragged a look up at him and found him looking very complicated at the floor. “And what if I don’t ever say no?”

“No to …?”

Anton’s hand waved between them.

What if he didn’t say no was a good question. Viago didn’t have a very good answer to it.

He thought about it a bit and then shrugged. “Then no need to stop.”

“Would you say no?” Anton asked.

Viago snorted.

“Why’d you turn me down yesterday, then?”

He cast a look at Anton from under his eyelashes. Anton who was looking very sexy. It was very fucking stupid considering they had turned each other down last night, when instead they could have been—

Now was not the time for what could have been. Viago was also very interested in whatever Viago was about to say.

“Stupid reasons,” said Viago. That would have to do. The reasons had changed their minds. “Forget last night.”

He took a step towards Anton, then another, walking him back against the washing machine. Anton’s body was doing things, tensing all over, his heartbeat not quickening but slowing to something more than human, his eyes catching a yellow glow as he watched Viago come close.

How interesting, Viago thought, and licked his lips. He tipped his head, smelling along the line of Anton’s neck, the intoxicating thud thud thud of movement below the skin, and took one more deliberate step to fit his leg right between both of Anton’s.

Ah, there was the rapid heartbeat. And that was a very nicely growing bulge, thick against Viago’s thigh. Viago smiled; Anton’s voice went raspy: “Here?”

“No, here is just flirting.”

“Flirting,” breathed Anton. There was a flush high on his cheeks and he had let his eyes fall lazily closed. “Y’know this isn’t what I came here for.”

Viago rolled his eyes. And his tongue. He pressed the tip of it to the space below the tendon in Anton’s neck, tasted the salt there. “Whyever not?”

Anton leaned into his tongue. “The laundry by Nathan’s house is a better bet for finding a hookup usually.”

What a funny joke. Viago found it totally funny, very hilarious. He rewarded Anton for his hilarious joke by scraping his fangs ever so lightly over the vein, and was gratified by the jump of his pulse. “Is that so?”

“Mmmm. Only open til midnight though. So there’s that.”

“How inconvenient.”

Anton’s mouth curved. “I found an alternative. This still just flirting?” He pushed that big bulge against Viago’s thigh.

“You tell me. If you are so accustomed to having sex in laundromats then—”

Someone cleared his throat from behind Viago’s back. Oh dear. And Gregor had been having such a good day until now. Oh well.

Viago turned. “What?”

Gregor looked like he would rather be anywhere else in the entire world, which was an impulse he should really have given into. There was still time for him to do that. Not much time obviously.

“You think you guys can do that, like … somewhere else?” Gregor muttered somewhere off to the side of Viago. Not the Anton side.

Viago looked around. They were by now completely alone with Gregor, the two students were mid-scarper with their textbooks. That was a very good choice; in Viago’s opinion they would go far. He stayed right where he was, pressing Anton up against the washing machine with his thigh, trapping him there in the bracket of his arms. “Where?”

Gregor looked tortured. Which he was about to be. “I dunno. Anywhere. It’s a laundry, man.”

“We’re in a laundry, man,” Anton repeated in a whisper, coiling himself tighter around Viago’s body, laughing into his neck like he was a little baby bird or something instead of a big scary werewolf. A big scary werewolf that Viago was about to fuck against the storefront windows, where the streetlights would cast a nice, warm light over Anton’s face so everyone could see him beg. If the windows held.

Viago asked himself how important it was to have access to a functioning 24-hour laundry within walking distance of the vampire house.

Anton snaked a hand between them, fumbling open the fly of Viago’s trousers one button at a time, and leaned to take Viago’s earlobe ever so gently between his teeth.

It turned out the answer to Viago’s laundry question was: not very! Viago eyeballed Gregor, who still wasn’t looking at him but at the floor. “I hope you have had a nice night Gregor,” he said very gently, because it was after all very unfortunate that he had spent his last moments arguing with a difficult customer, and then out of nowhere the washer spun to a halt and sang its silly song and wow was that a mood killer or what.

Viago sighed. Anton snickered into his neck and they both shifted key millimetres in either direction, and then Viago narrowed his eyes at Gregor. “Shoo,” he said, and whether through hypnotic suggestion or just the command, away Gregor shooed.

This was not how Viago had wanted any of this to go. And what if Anton took fright now? They would have to have this whole shagging up conversation a third time and Viago really did not want to have to do that again. He tried to figure out how to bypass all that. “Ah.”

Anton got there first. His hand was still between them, his fingers still toying with Viago’s button fly: eyes still on Viago, he fixed one button at a time and then twisted his hand to cup Viago’s dick through it and massage it gently in his fingers. He said, “I like having sex in places that aren’t laundromats too.”

There had been no laundromat sex. Still Viago swallowed, and he nodded and went back to the baby carriage while Anton went back to his giant backpack or whatever.

So there was option one, which wasn’t an option, or option two, which had already failed. And now was option three.

Option three was Tee Bee Dee.

;;

Viago walked back to the house with his clothes much more quickly than he left it. He had a good mental image going: if Viago was on his knees, Anton would make his fingers tight in his hair. He might turn them around and brace one hand against the wall and forget himself a little bit and force his dick nice and deep down Viago’s throat and Viago would look up at him and not need to breathe, what with being undead and all, and Anton would be like oh fuck that’s—that’s really—and then he would come very hard down Viago’s throat and Viago would find a wall and fuck the living daylights out of him, so to speak.

Obviously it didn’t go quite like that: when Viago walked despondent and alone back inside the house it was to find his flatmates standing there with one bow and arrow (Vladislav really was quite old-fashioned sometimes) and one poison dart (as if Deacon had anything like the aim called for there) and it was all Viago could do to avoid being stuck like a pig into the front door by either of them.

“Hey!” he shouted instead from behind the baby carriage. “Guys! It’s me! It’s Viago! Your flatmate! You really tried really hard to kill me there!”

“Oh. Sorry Viago.”

“Er. Yes. Sorry, Viago.” Deacon lowered his backup poison dart. “We didn’t mean to kill you.”

Viago scowled between them. “If you had killed me you would not have got back your clothes that I just washed.”

“Well thank goodness for that!” said Vladislav. He went and rifled through the pile of clothes until he found that one black ruffly shirt he liked. “I was waiting for this. Thank you.”

“You are welcome.” Viago didn’t even try to keep the resentment out of his voice. You do your flatmates’ washing and then they try to kill you with the instruments of their time! Wow. Fuck you too. “What was that for anyway?”

“We thought the wolf—”

“Do you see the wolf?”

“No, but—”

“Ha!” shouted Deacon, and let his last poison arrow fly. It whistled past Viago and only very nearly missed slicing his ear in wonky halves. Instead a stray cat screeched and set off yowling through the rhododendrons.

“Deacon!” Viago spluttered. “Fack! Everything with fur is not a werewolf!”

Vladislav inclined his head. “It is worth considering.”

Deacon lowered his throwing arm with some—not really enough contrition. “I am sorry. I thought the plan was still on.”

The plan. What plan. It was enough to make someone think about moving out, if he had things like an inheritance and a spare house and what have you, which Viago didn’t, and okay it wasn’t that bad but he was still mad. “There is no plan. No—the plan is now to not kill Anton.”

Probably Deacon and Vladislav exchanged another look at that but he was too annoyed and upset after his sexual frustration at the laundromat to stay and debate it. He whooshed away up the stairs.

;;

A very very very long time or like, an hour later came a knock at the door.

Viago opened his eyes, paperlight heart catching in his chest.

“Oh. Hey Anton. What are you doing here then?” Facking hell Nick was still facking here.

“Nick? What the hell.” Anton sounded very annoyed. “You planning on being around every time something happens with me and him?”

“Uh. No?”

“I dunno if you’ve got a thing for me or for Viago but it’s not gonna happen mate.”

Viago beamed, throwing his coffin lid open and rising like the best of them. It had not even been a night and already Anton was there to make good on his threats. And he was defending Viago’s honour, which just went to show that new things could happen to you every day even when you were approaching four centuries old and you only left the house when a large part of the local population was asleep.

Nick was still making protesting noises like anyone cared to listen to him, which apparently Deacon did, because he was joining in a bit, but maybe actually more for the fun of telling off Anton, it was hard for Viago to tell in all the commotion of his own feelings. One thing was for sure Viago could not believe that Deacon had sunk so low that he was siding with Nick of all people. He would raise that later, maybe at the rota meeting.

He peeked his head out his bedroom door and over the balustrade.

Anton was handling things just fine. “All right guys?” he asked, ignoring the arguing and sliding inside like he had just stopped resisting a leash. He nodded. “Deacon. Vladislav.” He looked disparagingly at Nick and didn’t continue.

“You,” said Vladislav. He gave Anton his very best scowl that even made Viago feel bad. “Who gave you permission to come to this house?”

As if he hadn’t been there just last week fixing the whatever it was. Viago snagged his pants off the floor and wiggled into them, then picked up something velvety that was now mostly clean again probably.

“Huh? Oh. Vladislav, you know it’s not actually like that for most of us. Werewolves don’t have the same handicap as vampires, we just walk on in wherever and whenever we want.”

Vladislav hissed. Viago hurried up on his buttons. Oops! “That is not what I meant, wolf. I meant you have made yourself unwelcome at this house with your actions.”

Fack. Anton was officially still enemy number one. And soon to be taking up second, third, and fourth position too. Viago hurried up before Anton could get himself killed just by being the funniest supernatural creature in the greater Wellington area.

When Viago reemerged, Vladislav sounded like he was getting ready to launch and rip Anton’s throat out.

It was time to make himself known. Viago smoothed his hands down his smoking jacket and glided down the stairs. “Hi,” he said breathlessly (obviously) as he reached the bottom.

Anton looked breathlessly back. “Hi.”

Was it hot in here or what? Viago would never know. Anton’s face was flushed high on his cheekbones and he was still not breathing right but it was not like he was nervous. It was like he was calming himself down to build himself up. And he was looking at Viago as if there was no one else in the room.

Was there anyone else in the room?

Vladislav’s voice came from far away. “Viago. What is the wolf doing here?”

Wow did Viago ever not have the time or what. “Laundry,” said Viago, and dragged Anton upstairs by the windbreaker.

His coffin was still gross. Freshly gross. Okay. So they’d go somewhere else. Like—one of the spare bedrooms. One of them even had a bed in it still if Viago remembered rightly, he just had to—oop not that one, whose body even was that? They needed to have another conversation about proper waste disposal, maybe when they were reorganising the familiar-sourcing rota.

"Didn’t seem too pleased to see me,” Anton was saying behind him. “Weird, cos they didn’t have a problem when I was fixing up the—”

Viago tuned out while Anton talked about whatever he was talking about. He tried another door and finally, a room without someone’s decaying leftovers. No curtains either but you couldn’t have everything and what was eternal life without a little risk eh?

He pulled Anton into the room. He was still grousing about Viago’s flatmates.

Viago blinked at him. “I will make a talking circle later. Or now if you want.” He bit down on his lip and was pleased when Anton stopped whinging and quirked his head like a dog. “Now or later?”

Anton slammed the door behind them.

;;

So the spare room worked for a quick (not that quick) hookup but assuming you weren’t trying to ghost the guy, what next?

Next you took him out for dinner. A dinner date was a bit more complicated than Viago was really looking for at this new stage of his relationship with Anton but fortunately Anton had other less elaborate commitments going on that Viago was totally qualified to join in with.

“Pizza night,” Anton explained, pulling up in front of the Pizza Hut he had told Viago to meet him at next to his job, shoving the keys to his truck deep in his jeans pocket. “Work late every week and then pick ‘em up on the way back. Can’t beat a Tuesday twofer, we clean out the butcher’s twice a week and it adds up, you know?”

“A Tuesday twofer,” Viago repeated blankly. He had dressed extra nice tonight, fresh pressed pants and waistcoat and nice silky top, even though they were only there to hang out for an hour or however long it took pizzas to be ready, Viago had no idea. “What is that?”

Anton opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Not important.” He stood right there in front of Viago on the pavement, either too close or not close enough.

It had been a very long time since Viago had to have an opinion about the distance between his own body and that of the guy who fucked him speechless so like, okay. It all felt very strange and unnatural. Anton fucked lots of people though so Viago really thought he should be better at the right now part.

What Viago wanted Anton to do was walk him back against the truck and kiss him long and slow and dirty, like perhaps he was going to take advantage of all the open space in the truck bed and all that night sky overhead to fuck him again, right here and now. What Anton decided to do instead was ravage Viago with his eyes and say, “Thanks for meeting me,” like he had not spent all last night dedicating himself to Viago’s pleasure, and then stick his head through the door to the Pizza Hut and ask a passing teenager, “Yeah man I’ve got an order in, all right if we come inside to wait?”

Viago tried not to take it to heart. His heart was dead and had no business taking anything. Even something it wanted.

Apparently a Tuesday twofer was not so exciting to people who were not feeding a pack of hungry werewolves. The restaurant was warm and unnecessarily garlicky, like walking into a Bavarian village from when Viago was still a boy, every second house strung up with garlic at the door. But it was quiet in the waiting foyer and the lights were low, and when Anton had paid at the little window he took Viago’s hand and manoeuvred him up to one of those squishy leaning things that humans liked instead of chairs these days, Viago didn’t know why and at the moment he did not care. Actually he never cared. Humans were unremarkable.

Anton, who was not human, was not boring. He was hopping up onto the squishy thing like a little baby gazelle or something, something on the documentary channels, and sinking his ass down on the other side a little bit like that wasn’t very uncomfortable. Then he patted the cracked vinyl next to him. “Come here.”

Viago had other ideas. He pushed Anton’s knees apart to stand between them. “This is good.”

Very good. Anton looked like it was much better for him too, spreading his legs even wider and pulling Viago closer between them. “Works for me.”

Anton had worked very hard for Viago all through the night. Viago managed not to preen and offer his mouth but it was a near thing, and then Anton got apologetic and said, “Hey. Sorry I can’t get you a real dinner.”

“Oh. Well that is okay.”

“Nah. But look. I’m glad you changed your mind.”

Changed his mind, changed his—oh. Viago blinked prettily at him. “You are very persuasive.”

“Okay. But there’s no need to make it creepy.”

“What’s creepy? You want to fuck me, I want to fuck you. Bam.”

“I know, but that’s not what you said before, and I’m just checking we’re actually on the same page.”

Viago frowned. So Anton thought that Viago was a blushing maiden who could not say no to his advances. That thought was very intriguing and they would come back to that. Or maybe: “Are you trying to tell me that you have also changed your mind?”

Anton’s legs tightened around him, his feet hooking behind the backs of Viago’s thighs. It was possessive and very quick and very very delicious of him. “No.”

Viago looked around them. It was not a very comfortable waiting area but, “You want me to be gagging on your dick right now? Open your trousers. We can see what comes first, you or your pizzas.”

"Fuck—no—well yes obviously—”

“Then we are not on the same page are we.”

Anton’s mouth dropped. And like, wow. Fack. He had all that animal magnetism that made Viago want to bite and suck and chew on him and then put him away in his room to make sure he didn’t go anywhere. Only instead they were out at this smelly human restaurant and apparently Anton did not want to be fucking Viago’s mouth after all.

Viago looked at Anton again and Anton looked back. It was just a look but Viago felt it down the count of his ribs and into his stomach. He bared his teeth.

“You monster. C’mere.” Viago let himself be pulled in for a kiss, long and sick and ravishing, just the kiss Viago had been hoping for and more; Anton finally let him go just enough to keep talking. “Course I want that.”

“Really?”

“All that and another night to fuck you in.”

He didn’t even wait for the people to walk through behind them with their pizza boxes to say it. That was more like it. Viago vibrated where he stood. Well then. “Tonight is a night.”

“Yeah. Pizza night.”

Viago shook his head. It was like getting blood from a rock. “How long does it take you to eat a pizza? I thought you were a werewolf.”

“Not just about the pizza though is it? It’s about pack bonding, problem-solving, planning for the next full moon.”

Viago nodded knowingly. “Sniffing each other’s crotches.”

Anton narrowed his eyes. “Keep that up, see how far it gets you.”

“I will keep something up.” Viago dropped his hand between Anton’s legs. Speaking of crotches.

“HOLY—not here, Viago, shit!” Anton paused despite all the protesting. “God. You’ll get us arrested.”

Viago stepped away, very pleased with himself. So not such a problem with well-timed werewolf jokes, just with police officers.

Anton’s breathing was coming in hot, wet pants that made Viago think of all sorts of things they could be doing that would be better than pizza night.

Someone shouted Anton’s name from the counter and Anton took a minute to look dazedly in. He shook his head hard and slid off the squeaky vinyl, tugging the jacket closed like that would hide his swollen prick or messy face. “There’s our food.”

“Your food.” Viago wanted no part of it. He peered through the window and counted the stack of boxes coming through. “That is practically just one pizza for each of you Anton. One and a half. Do you know how long it takes me to eat a human?” He glanced at the woman handing the stack of pizza boxes through the window.

“Yeah and you don’t have to chew your food, do you. Just dig your teeth in and—” Anton made a slurping sound that made him a big hypocrite about not having sex in pizza restaurants. “You know? Got an advantage.”

Viago pressed himself close around Anton and then took a box to be helpful. A small box, one that didn’t really smell of anything except napkins and little wrapped up mints. Mint was not so bad. “If you chew quickly, I’ll do that to you, too,” he said, and let his fingers curl around the back of Anton’s neck. “In your truck, or in your bed. What do you think, hmmm?”

“I think you’re a fucking slut, Viago.”

It was very nice to be appreciated. Viago tightened his fingers on his neck. Anton made a little facking slutty mew.

;;

Anyway so things were not much different between them except they were having sex now.

Lots of sex.

Lots and lots and lots of sex. All the times and all the places. Anton had now missed three consecutive pizza nights. Instead he was having sex with Viago in the spare bedroom and in the other spare bedroom (the body was just a body after all) and in Anton’s bed. In the truck, out back behind the public library, in the woods (ew gross) and at Nathan G’s laundromat, which was like, not a good place for a hookup at all, and even despite all that sex they were already having, apparently it wasn’t enough for Anton because tonight they were all gathered for a group outing to Boogie Wonderland and Viago was turning around from the bar to find Anton dancing up close and personal with a pretty and athletic human, who was alive and everything.

Viago was totally fine with it.

“It is totally fine,” he explained to Stu, who he had tracked down just to tell him so. He said it very calmly, which proved he was not at all thinking about murdering anyone. “Totally totally fine.”

“Yeah,” said Stu. He hesitated. “Why, er. Why wouldn’t you be fine with it.”

Exactly. “Exactly! Why wouldn’t I? They are both grown ups and they can make their own decisions about things like who they dance with and who they don’t dance with.”

He stared at Anton over his decoy glass of malibu and coke. The human all up on him was attractive by alive standards, although probably not a virgin. He was half-naked and a much better dancer than Viago, and admittedly that part was on Viago because he could have asked Deacon for dancing lessons like, literally any time, and instead he had chosen to waste time on drinking people who weren’t this slutty boy in the tight trousers and on sleeping the sleep of the dead, and things like that. And now Viago was suffering the consequences of his own poor planning.

He slid a look back to Stu. “I’m having fun. Are you having fun?”

Stu hesitated. He nodded.

“That’s good. Do you think Anton is having fun?”

Stu looked into his empty glass as if it contained the answer.

“Because if he’s not having fun, I should do something about it. Don’t you think?” Viago took the pint glass out of Stu’s hands and set it down on top of the bar so that he could concentrate on Viago’s question. Viago was already dead but who could say how long Anton had left? There really was no time to waste.

Freed of his pint glass, Stu looked from Anton to Viago to Anton to Viago to Anton to Viago.

Viago waited.

“I think. He looks like he’s. Having fun.”

Viago smiled. Well he moved the sides of his mouth up and parted his lips and showed his teeth. “Do you?”

“No,” Stu corrected. “No, I don’t. Uh I’m gonna get another beer, do you want—no, obviously.”

“Stu why are you nervous? Don’t be nervous, Stu.”

“I. Uh. I’m not nervous.”

“It’s okay if you think Anton is having a nice time.”

“I don’t think that.”

“You just said you do think that.”

“Yes. But I don’t. Actually know Anton that well.”

“Isn’t he your alpha?”

Stu swallowed. “Yes?”

“You are sweating.”

Stu looked desperately at his feet.

Viago smiled again. “Stu! I am joshing with you! Look go and have another beer, actually I will just,” he turned around on the spot and leaned over the bar and said hypnotically to the humans behind it, “please pour this man a beer and do not stop them coming,” and suddenly there were three beers in three different colours and fizzinesses in front of him and he wasn’t looking at Anton with his new chew toy anymore. That put things into a much clearer light.

He knocked Stu with his elbow and nodded at the bartop. “Here you go Stu.”

It was lucky that Viago had supernatural hearing because Stu’s reply was almost impossible to make out, what with the very loud clubbing music. “Yeah. Yeah thanks mate.”

“I am sorry if I made you feel bad about yourself. I know you are new at being one of Anton’s pack.” Viago made sure to say it very kindly. “I think you should go and stand over there.”

Stu nodded hard on his way over there. “Thank, uh, thanks Viago. Thank you.”

Back to Anton. Viago fumbled around for a bar stool. “This is mine now,” he said without looking, and when the previous occupant vacated it, slid on up without looking. Anton was still on the dance floor with his plaything, and now his shirt was even more damp and see-through with sweat so anyone else could also look at the nice tits and waist and stomach like someone else was allowed to do that. They weren’t the priority though, the human was pressing himself all up against Anton and writhing around on him, and if Anton was into that then Viago wasn’t going to have an opinion about it, it was just that Viago was going to have to be the one to lick the slick smell of him off every inch of Anton’s body later and that was going to take some time. Would it hurt Anton to have some consideration for Viago, that was the question.

Anton lifted his head while the human slobbered around his collarbone and looked straight at Viago across the club. His eyes were all narrow and dark and his mouth was sly and his hand was possessive in the human’s hair, holding him down with those strong fingers, and when the human tried to go down he pulled him up instead, angling his mouth and the teeth—the teeth that might fit better in the mouth of a dairy cow—towards the crook of his neck, and all the while holding Viago’s gaze.

“I’m going to kill him,” Viago murmured into the space between them, and sure enough Vladislav and Deacon materialised and relocated the humans in the stools on either side of him right as Anton smirked and turned back to his human.

“I told you,” said Vladislav seriously. “It is the only way. How do you want to do it? I am thinking we ask the bar wench to add silver shavings to the beer.”

Deacon spluttered. “Stu is drinking the beer!”

“Then tell him to stop. He has had many beers already, he does not need more.”

“I am just saying. Have some care, Vladislav.”

“I have plenty of care! Stu, do not drink more beer. There. Sorted.”

“Yes, well, if Stu could hear that—hi Stu—then so could Viago’s wolf.”

“Anton is a free wolf,” Viago cut in, not taking his eyes off him. “He can be attended to by anyone he pleases.”

“We have been over this Viago—”

“He will not change,” Deacon said heatedly. “It is in his nature to betray you!”

“Let me rip his head off, Viago,” Vladislav breathed. “It will be quick.”

JESUS christ now all of Anton’s wolves were clustering around him like maggots on a dead thing and Viago could not see him clearly anymore. He slipped off his bar stool and stood tall, watching the way Anton’s little human reacted to the attention—inadvisably—and how Anton reacted to the human’s reaction—ditto—and then glanced between Vlad and Deacon.

“Listen guys. It is fine. No killing Anton.”

“Or we could—”

“All right?” Nick ambled up with his hands squished into his jeans pockets. Always with the bad timing, Nick!!! “Good night this.”

“It is not a good night Nick, it is a very bad night. Anton is—where is Anton?” Viago stared around wildly. “And his floozy, where is he?”

“Aw. Sorry to hear that mate.” Nick squinted. “Thought you were his floozy?”

“Do you know where he went or not Nick.”

“Educated guess?” Nick nodded at all the wolves congregating very unsuspiciously in front of the door to the smoking area.

Viago bared his teeth. “I will return in a moment.”

Anton’s wolves parted for Viago like the tide.

It was busy outside, being quite late in the evening, but that was not a problem. Anton was busy pushing the floozy’s back up against a wall and not noticing Viago until Viago was sliding an arm around his waist from behind, pulling him close like a very aroused vice and murmuring into his ear. “Hello.”

“Er—” said the human, jerking back.

Viago reached out with the arm not holding Anton in place and pressed the tip of his finger to the human’s mouth. “Shush a minute please. I need a word with my werewolf.”

“Your—? If he’s your boyfriend, he came onto me, all right.”

“I told you he is my werewolf. And I know he did. Now stay still and be quiet.”

The human’s mouth hung upon but now he was hypnotised. Viago had been getting much better at hypnosis recently. Maybe it was the Anton effect. It was very handy whatever it was.

Viago moved the hand on the human’s mouth to the wall beside him, palm flat, trapping him in.

Anton turned his face fractionally towards Viago. “Hi.”

“Hi. You are not very subtle.”

“Oh. Oh no. Rats.”

“I do not like rats.”

“They’re not that bad, just got a bad rap. Like vampires.”

Viago could hear Anton smirking. He was intolerable. Viago had thought of nothing but him in weeks.

He dipped his face down to Anton’s neck where the human had had his mouth, apparently missing the puncture wounds that very clearly and obviously said that Anton was not available for use, and nosed along the length of the artery. “I am not sure I like where this is going Anton.”

“Aw, babe.” He lost his breath at the end of the word; Viago had shifted a bit to get more comfortable, and comfortable meant resting his prick up against Anton’s ass, touching his tongue to the puncture wounds on his neck. Well maybe they were not so noticeable to the human mouth, they were all healed up, what with Anton’s wolfy healing powers. Viago would have to leave him bloodier next time. Bloodier and more broken. So the marks didn't fade. Was that possible? He wanted to curl up inside Anton and let himself be safe there until someone else came calling.

Anton's breathing got heavier.

Viago scraped his nails so very lightly along Anton's skin.

Anton got himself back together again. “What’s the plan here then?”

“You tell me. I was having a nice time dancing with my friends—”

“The lads’ll be happy to hear you call them that!”

“—and your wolves and all these human snacks walking around, and then I looked up to see you trying to get my attention and then I had to tell Vlad not to kill you again, and now here we are.”

“Here we are,” Anton breathed. If Viago listened closely he could hear Anton’s bones cracking and grinding and disfiguring infinitesimally, although perhaps Anton wouldn’t call it so infinitesimal. Viago would have to ask him some time.

He looked at the human. He was standing still and quiet just as instructed, held up against the wall with the weight of Anton pressed against him and Viago pressed against Anton. Viago shifted again so he could rut his cock slowly up against Anton’s ass. “What were you going to do with him Anton?”

“You’re looking at it.”

“Oh. That is not very inventive of you.”

“Surprised I got this far to be honest.”

“Um Anton I am not so predictable as all that.”

“Yeah, you are.” Anton turned his head to nuzzle all the way into Viago’s face.

Viago rolled his eyes. Mostly to cover up the consternation in his stomach though, it was just very—Viago was feeling a lot of feelings was all. Inside and outside. The night was warm and the bass was shaking the walls. And Anton was still murmuring into his ear and doing things with his ass and Viago was only one man okay. One vampire.

Viago met the human’s gaze over Anton’s shoulder. Well at least he had had a nice night with Anton until now. “Don’t worry,” he said gently, running his tongue over his fangs and watching the human’s pupils dilate. “This won’t hurt.”

Fingers dug into his arm. Viago looked away from the human at Anton. “Yes?”

“Uh. Just checking. What won’t hurt?”

“Not you, liebling.” Viago slipped the arm around Anton’s waist a little lower. “You are precious goods.”

“I know, I meant—”

Viago let his eyes trace down the length of his throat. “Not unless you ask me to.”

Anton’s mouth hung open. It was all hot wet spit and teeth and tongue in there and now Viago wanted just to kill the human quick to get him out of the way. But there was no need to waste a meal.

He slid his hand into Anton’s pants to press his thumb against the pubic bone. “We are putting a pin in that. But my werewolf went hunting. I was meaning to enjoy the fruits of his labour.”

Anton was seconds from coming in his pants. The smell, the heart beat, the sounds he was making.

Viago considered. “What do you think, hmm? Shall I let him go? You know I have other places to find sustenance.” He pressed down against the throbbing vein under his thumb. “I can control myself. Probably. I am very hungry.”

“No.” Anton’s sexy rasp that must be hurting his throat. “I got him for me. Now he’s for you. Eat up.”

;;

[Anton] That was fun last night
[Anton] I like hanging out with you
[Anton] When we’re wearing clothes
[Anton] And when we’re not obviously
[Anton] Boss is pissy about the bruises
[Anton] Oh well lol
[Anton] They’ll fade soon enough
[Anton] Don’t like her anyway
[Anton] Also the lads want you to come over tonight are you around

Viago poked blearily at his phone. Anton had started sending him text messages now and it was very sweet and hot and Viago liked being always on his mind but as the kids would have it: what the hell.

[Viago] wot#
[Viago] why####

Silence like, forever, and then:

[Anton] I dunno V I guess they want to get to know you a bit. Question marks are on the 1 key, you just have to press it a lot and then you’ll see it. Or the bottom left one with the rest of the punctuation I think idk
[Anton] idk means I don’t know

[Viago] u could just cum over instead of txting me like we r in 1999 it is hard to have a conve convero convyyyyy chat over sms

[Anton] I got my first phone in 2009 roflmao
[Anton] roflmao means rolling on the floor laughing my ass off

Viago blinked.

[Anton] It means I’m laughing but not seriously. Just like hahaha

Viago jabbed at the call button. “Hello Anton this is Viago. What.”

“Babe. I know it’s you. It means—”

“Why do your wolves want me to come over?”

Anton put his phone on the speaker and flopped himself very loudly down in his big fluffy quilt that had seen some action recently. “They want to hang out with you! I’ve never had a, er—” The phone quietened. “You know?”

Viago waited interestedly. “I did not hear what you said?”

“A vampire,” Anton said, “you dick. Never had a vampire before.”

Viago traced his fingertips over the silk stains describing his recent past. “Haven’t you?”

“No.”

“You know there are lots of vampires in Wellington.”

“Yeah. But you’re the first vampire I hung out with really. And definitely the first one that I let fuck me in the smoker’s area of Boogie fucking Wonderland.”

There was something to that right. Right? It was always hard to say where werewolfing rules applied and where they didn’t matter that much, especially when your werewolf was the alpha. It was totally cool and all but hard to remember sometimes when you were still three hundred years older than him, and when you didn’t have many exciting things to wake up about but he was one of them, and when every night that you opened your eyes without him there you were bereft.

“Viago? You still there?”

“Uh. Um. Uh huh.”

Anton’s voice gentled. “Hmm? Babe?”

“I am okay.”

“I can come over. If you want.”

Viago used his quick vampire thinking. He coughed very sadly and tragically. “I am okay.”

Another long silence, and then he listened as one door slammed, then another, then pretended to ignore a muffled conversation between Anton and his wolves, and then a motorbike choked into life and well that was the point of being a very old count von anything, wasn’t it, he thought, listening to the motorbike on his phone and then as it eventually got closer through the window. The point was that sometimes you were very old and moneyed, and sometimes you went in for the kill, you went for the thrill, and the thrill was a werewolf, a pretty blond werewolf who made you feel like a human again when he was knocking at your front door, his mouth watering and your mouth watering, and if you were both mouth-watering that wasn’t such a bad way to be.

;;

Come over tonight meant the werewolves came over to the vampire house in the end.

“I am just saying we are already here,” said Viago pragmatically. “And Vladislav is already here and Deacon is already here. And Nick is probably already looking in a window somewhere.”

Anton panted. He looked very good and tasty where he was and if everyone else was listening well then that was fine because Viago got to have him. “You think?”

“I know. It is very,” Viago took a second to shift and sink down more on Anton’s cock, hot and hard and very nice, very thick, “convenient.”

“Hey. Do you think he watches us?” Anton grasped at Viago’s bare hips with those nice strong hands. “Nick, I mean?”

“No. Or, yes. I am just saying. If anyone is watching, it is most likely him. And if he doesn’t, someone else will. And I do not think he is really watching, he is just happening to be there waiting to be let in. And we are the most likely people to let him in.”

“Oh. Fuck. Fuck. I’m just—we could draw the curtains.”

“Why?” Viago breathed. “You want to take longer about this, hmm?

He sank down again on Anton’s dick, slowed his hand on his own, bent over Anton and kissed him like it was the end of times. Which it was. Sort of. They definitely weren’t supposed to be doing whatever it was they were doing right now. Which was sex. They were supposed to be hanging out with everyone but instead they were having sex. Again. When they were done they would over again. Viago thought if they timed it right they would never have to stop.

He listened around the house. Downstairs everyone was playing a silly and involved board game. Vladislav was pretending he did not care he was winning and all of the wolves were pretending they did not care that Vladislav was winning. Deacon was texting Nick and Nick had left his phone in a car and Stu was on his way so everyone was about to be having a good time anyway. No one had said anything about killing Anton. Of course Viago was distracted right now but he would probably notice if anyone had said something like oh, I have got a silver knife, or look Nick at this machete, or something.

Anton was thinking about other things instead of listening to the house. He curled his hand around Viago’s neck a bit like last night. “Hey. V. Why’d you say no at first?”

Viago thought about it. Lots of reasons. If you hooked up more than once or twice with a vampire, your days were numbered. Viago did not want to be numbering Anton’s days, that was not very healthy in a relationship. Also, just not a very sexy way to start things. Also not a very sexy way to end things? There was biting your lover in the heat of passion and enjoying and the abandoning their body as they bled out the rest of the way into the hardwood while you went and watched a movie with your flatmates, and then there was biting your lover in the heat of passion and regretting ever giving them a second glance in the street because now you had to mourn them for one hundred or two hundred years.

Viago did not need to say all of that. That was too much information even while he was riding Anton’s dick. Hard and fast and very infatuated. Very bad.

Viago cleared his throat and in fact found the words falling out easily. “I am more than three hundred years old. Casual is very hard for me.”

Anton paused. So did his dick. “Casual?”

“Casual. You know.”

“Casual.… no, Viago, I don’t know. What does casual mean?”

He sounded pissed. It warmed Viago through.

“I mean,” said Viago, “casual. Occasional. Infrequent.” Well not that infrequent. But maybe one day. “But I will learn. I do not want to tie you down to anything. It is very difficult for everyone because then eventually you have to untie yourself.”

Untying yourself meant un-inviting yourself from someone who no longer counted his birthday in double-digits. Or when you were predestined mortal enemies living together in the same very small city on a very small country and shit went down. Or when you were friends who were without many friends.

Viago made a telling gesture with his fingers. His fingers that were still on his dick. “It is hard to untangle yourself from things.”

Anton didn’t look all that enlightened. He looked upset. Still, he nodded. Slowly. He slid his hand around to Viago’s throat and ever so gently closed his fingers, thrusting up again. “You don’t want to get yourself tied up with me.”

“No that is not what I am saying. I am saying—you are a werewolf.”

“That’s suddenly a problem?”

“That is always a problem,” Viago said seriously. “But I am willing to overlook it.”

“Please get to the point.”

“I mean that you werewolves tie yourselves up every full moon and if you don’t pick the right tree then you end up killing people or turning them into werewolves. People like—Stu for example.” People that Viago liked very much. Other people who Viago did not want to lose, even if they were a werewolf. “I do not want to be the wrong tree for you. But I also do not want to be just the tree you piss on for fun and then leave behind, even if you do not choose to.”

There was something to this tree metaphor.

Anton got that look about him that said he was deciding something. And also hiding something. And also wanting something. Probably Viago, actually definitely Viago, Anton had got it down to an art to want Viago.

Still Viago could only deal with one of those things at a time, being a vampire did not mean being a mind-reader at all, and he did not know how to deal with three at once.

“I told you,” said Anton. He fucked into Viago again, eyes huge and facking adoring, like he wanted to hold Viago close in his hands like a sweet mouse who had found their way into his bedroom before he ate it. It was unbearable. Viago did not know what to do with it. Or how to answer it. “Still just looking for another shag for now. For the moment.”

His heart slowing down. Speeding up. Eyes yellowing. One day Viago would lose him. But today he had him.

It was very attractive. Anton was very attractive. Viago had no regrets.