[The relief at being spoken to is fleeting, but it's a shot of adrenaline in itself to watch Larus' eyes flutter open. Vampire physiognomy wins the day, because there's no way a human could survive the kind of carnage Dorian's looking down at.]
You're right. But here I am, so you're going to have to deal with it and thank me later. [Reaching for the sleeve of his sweater that doesn't have a knife tucked inside it, Dorian tears at the top with his teeth, and then starts pulling down the length of it with his free hand to make a strip to go around the other man's thigh.]
Can you stand if I help you? We need to get you off the street and somewhere safe so I can stop the bleeding.
[ he must be absolutely out of his mind because there's nothing in what dorian says that's funny, but he laughs anyway. or, at least, tries to, the sound fading away as he's awash with all sorts of different sensations. the pain in his leg, his stomach, his face and head. his thoughts are still scattered, picking apart those words and then getting distracted by dorian's closeness. his heartbeat. the thirst he feels is so intense he doesn't respond for an eternity. ]
It'll stop on its own. [ eventually, maybe. he's only been struck down like this once, and the outcome had him relying on jericho's bitter werewolf blood to heal. he almost gags at the memory.] Sit me up.
[ it's still difficult to speak and moving is agonizing, but dorian's right. they need to get off the street. if anyone comes back to make sure they'd finished the job and found dorian... his hand tightens on him, searching for strength he doesn't have so he can try to get to his feet. ]
Need – to go. You're, [ his vision blurs when he leans forward. ] Not safe.
[There's a strange flicker of recognition in the way Larus laughs that takes Dorian back, for the briefest of moments, to men crawling through trenches and struggling through the muck and haze of war. He knows this kind of pained delirium, and it's not a good sign.]
I'm safer than you'll ever be. So come on, and help me.
[The other man trying to move is encouraging. Grimacing, Dorian takes Larus' arm and wraps it tightly around his shoulders. The man is too close to his own size to make him convenient to carry, but he knows he can support him however far they need to go.
Glancing up and down the alleyway, Dorian notices a door at the end of it that seems to lead into some nameless, darkened storeroom. It'll do. He slings an arm around Larus' waist, and then starts his way to lifting them both to standing and moving towards it. It's a difficult climb and there's blood dripping and smearing everywhere, but eventually Dorian forces open the heavy, partially open door with his knee and then a kick, and pushes them in through it.
When he can, he lowers Larus down to settle the vampire against a carboard box, and then starts attending to wrapping his strip of sweater hard around his thigh.]
You're going to need blood to recover some of this. [It's a statement of fact. His eyes dart up briefly to Larus' face, before returning to the task his hands are busy with.] How much?
[ he doesn't know why that sounds odd to him. safer than he'll ever be? why? how? but maybe it simply means he's not a target like larus obvious is, using what little energy he can muster to at least help dorian get him upright onto his feet. the weight of it is agonizing, gritting his teeth to the point of pain just for something different to focus on. of course, his thoughts flits between two separate things instead: the warmth of the body pressed to his and the blood that comes with it.
his vision is already too obscured, but he notices when they're inside, hating how out of control everything is. his movements, his inability to remain standing on his own. larus feels himself drift towards unconsciousness again as soon as he's on the ground; the squeeze of pressure around his thighs drags him out of it and into a question he'd feared.
he still does, but he's so thirsty — ]
I can't. [ there's force behind the words. ] Not– not from you.
[ personal as it is, he'll never get the taste of him out of his mind if it happens. he'll crave it until it drives him mad, and in some asinine attempt to put space between them, larus pushes backwards. but there's no strength to it, simply crushing into the box behind him and smearing more blood everywhere. ]
[There’s blood everywhere: all over Larus, on the floor, and now on his own clothes and skin, too. The smell is nauseating, thick, and intimately familiar, especially in the amount on the floor and shared between them. (Of course his first month in a new place finds him covered in someone else’s blood—- especially that of someone he’s come closer to.)
Dorian expected this reaction from the other man, but it’s not a good enough reason for Larus to let himself bleed out. Dorian doesn’t want this, the very least reason of which being that he’s going to need to find another place to hide Larus soon, and doing that while experiencing all of the sights and sounds of the Down through a veil of euphoria is going to be nearly impossible. Nevermind the visceral reminder of the act of giving up blood being something that had become precious to him—- romantic, even.
But he is not going to let this young immortal die, no matter what it takes.]
Stop it, Larus. [He’s not going to stop trying to stem the other man’s bleeding either, even if Larus is now making that difficult. Dorian grips at the vampire, trying to help him sit up again so he can at least look at the wound in his torso to decide if there’s anything that can be done for it at all.]
So the choice instead is to die? Tell me how that makes any sense.
[ then it would be my choice, he thinks. but is that really true? he hadn't invited anyone to jump, and before that, he'd been almost eager to finally have a decent plan for the night that didn't involve skulking around through the down in an attempt not to be noticed. so, no. it wouldn't be his choice to die, and he's come so far, through so much already.
why would he choose now to give up? because he didn't want to taste the blood of someone else he'd gotten closer to?
he grimaces as he balances on one hand in an effort to sit upright once more, the protest in his body so great that he nearly doesn't succeed. yet, larus holds onto dorian like a lifeline, pulling himself close so he can rest his forehead anywhere against him—his arm, his shoulder. the loud ricochet of his heart is enough to tell him that none of this does make sense, trying to sort out any other reason he'd refuse and finding nothing. ]
I don't know how much, [ he whispers, stringing the words together carefully. ] But I don't – I won't kill you.
[ he has enough control over that. or he hopes he does. ]
[He's not sure how much pushback he's expecting to get from Larus, but it's a relief when the other man gives in. That the younger man is going to allow him to save him, and not make him watch him die wretchedly, young and undeserving of it, in his arms. Dorian wraps an arm around the vampire in a solid grip to support him as he casts his mind about for how to handle this.]
You're not going to kill me, so don't start thinking about that. [He can't. There's only one thing that can truly kill him, and they're a full ten minutes away from it. In a way it makes him the ideal person for this, which is something Toby used to fear more than anything else whenever they encountered other vampires.
As Dorian's adjusting his grip and getting ready, the knife in his sleeve shifts and brushes sharply up against the side of his arm. Without even thinking on it further, he knows. That's it. Dorian pulls back his sleeve with his teeth and wordlessly shakes the knife out to let it clatter onto the blood-soaked floor. It's absurd, dirty, and although recently-sharpened, old. It's going to hurt.
He doesn't care.
He contemplates the blade for a moment, trying to decide exactly how to do it. It doesn't take long. When Dorian wields the knife, he unflinchingly and decisively cuts a vicious line down along the length of his arm, starting at the wrist and moving halfway up to the crook of his elbow. It's overkill-- or it would be, for someone who isn't going to heal from it in no time at all. Besides a knotting of his brows together and a sharp draw of breath as the pain of the cut radiates up his arm, there's no further reaction.
This is better. This way Larus doesn't have to bite him, and neither of them have to be forced through that additional anguish.
When he's finished, a strained sort of laugh drops from his lips and Dorian flexes his fingers, blood blossoming down the length of his arm and dropping wetly onto the ground and Larus' clothes.]
There. It's not my jugular, but I've never had any complaints about my radial. [He pulls Larus close. Shortly after he presses:] Be fast.
[ all of his senses immediately switch gears the second the smell of blood permeates the air. it's not his or the old blood of a dead man, no. it's fresh, it's beating with life, and the hunger he tries to keep at bay surges forward like a familiar ghost that always haunts him, controlling his very movements as he tips forward and falls upon it.
dorian's skin is warm and slick, lips parted as it coats his tongue and he swallows. once, and he still might have been able to resist, could have pulled away to let his body fight over which places to send it and what to heal. but it floods down his throat, and a groan falls out of him, curling his fingers tighter and tighter to hold dorian right there against him until the blunt press of his nails must hurt. he drinks until he feels like he's going to be sick, and then, continues to drink more. each mouthful is finding some use somewhere—his flesh slowly knits itself together, he's stopped bleeding. there's less pain, but his mind is clouded, delirious. he wants more, so much more. he needs —
he needs to stop.
larus tears himself away, shoving dorian back to put distance between them. still, it doesn't feel like enough, sliding backwards and turning so he's half-curled on his side. teeth clenched, some of his strength is beginning to return, the most dangerous of his injuries finally closed, but he's exhausted and stressed, rolling over onto his hands and knees and squinting at dorian from beneath the fall of his hair. all he can think about is how he tastes. ]
You shouldn't have done that. Not like... [ he's clearly upset. ] Not like that.
[He's cut himself in this way, been cut this way, often enough that Dorian knows how it's going to feel before he heals. There's hot, wet pain throbbing up his arm, and he's more aware of this than the feeling of being clamped hard in place as tongue and teeth run and bump fervently along the length of his cut. He takes a few breaths as stabs of pain surface along his skin as the gash in his arm is disturbed, and then he's being pushed away suddenly, the lightheadedness that's setting in making him slow on the uptake.
He catches himself on an arm, slips in the blood splattered all over the floor, and then grasps clumsily at a nearby box to steady himself.]
I did exactly what I had to. [Larus is healed enough to move like that, to make that face at him. He's glad.
A bit dizzy too, but relieved.
It's not over yet though.]
Can you get to your feet? [With his loose grip on the box, Dorian starts to haul himself to his feet. He's shaky as he reaches for the nearby wall, blood dripping onto the floor and down his arm, over his clothes.] If we can make it to the elevators and into the Up, we should be safe enough for now.
[ it's a constant struggle as he wars with himself, knows he could overtake dorian in his obviously weakened state and take more. consume him until there's nothing left. that's the part of him that he hates, the thing he'd never asked for and had thrust upon him anyway. he squeezes his eyes shut to ignore it, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths to dispel the tang of blood filling the room. he needs air, which means dorian's suggestion is better than staying in the down. ]
Yes. [ bitten out through still clenched teeth, and he finally moves.
a step, and he's at dorian's side, a hand settling at a hip. ] Keep pressure on it so you don't bleed to death. Lean on me.
[ that last command is softer, pushing away the lingering pain that continues to radiate through his chest as he continues to heal. if he's honest, he needs more blood, but he's already taken too much, listening to the way dorian's heartbeat sounds as he guides them towards the door and nudges it open. they're not far from the elevators, and if need be, larus will just haul dorian into his arms and carry him back to his suite in the up. ]
It'll pass. [He levels a look at Larus, and then grips hard at the man beside him.] Just-- hold my arm for a moment.
[Because there's no way that wasn't going to become obvious soon. As Larus puts a hand on him, he can already feel the slow, steady sensation of skin pulling back together. Of blood that belongs to this form, being stolen back from his portrait. A few breaths more, and the haze is starting to clear from his head.
However Larus has responded to his request, Dorian reaches down to take the other man's hand firmly in his own.]
Don't think about anything, just go. [He urges the other man along, breath coming more easily with every step. The dripping of blood slowing as they make their way out of the alley.] Back to my high rise.
[However all of this has panned out, neither of them is in good shape. It doesn't matter that neither of them is dying anymore. They need a safe place to escape to, and in this new city, his suite is the only one Dorian can think of.]
[ there's something more there that needs questioned, but larus follows what dorian says, holding onto him until he urges them to leave.
then, they go.
as surprising as it should be, they're not given many looks as they navigate their way to the elevators and wait for them to descend so they can return to the up. a minute or two, luckily, and despite the early hour, there's no one loitering inside with them. probably a good thing considering how much blood they're covered in, larus subconsciously pressing his tongue against the back of his teeth like it will stop him from thinking about dorian in his mouth and down his throat. they're also close, crowded together, and he can smell him —
larus leans against him for a brief moment, his free hand lifting to touch dorian's jaw. a reminder, a need for contact that doesn't come with what he'd just done to him in some back alley room. he'll have time to say more later, pulling away and taking up his hold once more as they're finally somewhere safe. or safer, rather.
the walk to the building is shorter than it should be given their current condition, and the second elevator ride just as quick. once they're outside dorian's door, larus grimaces at the sight of them reflected in polished surfaces. it's not a good look on anyone, hoping to keep the smears to a minimum as soon as they get inside.
and when they are, his voice is unusually soft. ] I'm sorry.
[There's a palpable feeling of relief as soon as they're back standing in his suite. The electric kettle near the sink is whistling shrilly at them as they enter, but the immortal moves to turn it off, uninterrupted silence cloaking the room again as Dorian takes his first real breath in what feels like hours.
His arm is still stinging, but from the amount of pain he can tell that soon enough the only discomfort will be from the itch of dried and caked blood.]
Don't be. [He joins Larus at the front of the room again, gaze roaming briefly over the man's form, checking for open wounds now that they're free from the chaos of escaping the Down. When he doesn't find anything serious, the remaining tension relaxes from his shoulders.] If you hadn't called me like you did, you wouldn't be standing here right now. [Or at all, probably.]
Is the rest going to heal with time now that you've fed? [He brings up a hand, thumbing gently at the skin below a dark bruise on the vampire's cheek.]
[ even now, he can feel the familiar ache of his body healing itself. the more intense sensations are at his thigh, abdomen, and chest—places he'd been injured the worst. but that's not what he concentrates on, eyes only on dorian and nothing else. the touch of his hand is oddly welcoming, even if he's suddenly aware of just how terrible both of them must look and feel. ]
I didn't have anyone else. [ it's a quiet state of fact, moving on quickly as if he hadn't just said such a thing. ] You won't be able to tell soon enough. [ so, yes. ]
How's your arm?
[ larus reaches for it because he feels like he can, intent on inspecting the cut and just how deeply dorian must have wounded himself. at the very least, he's grateful that he hadn't had to bite him; the outcome of that would have been so much worse than some wound that could heal, still very much aware of the taste on his tongue and the way he craves it. the way he craves the other man in a general sense is equally astounding, though he pushes that aside in favor of trying to look him over. ]
[He hesitates as Larus reaches for him, but then after a split moment's thought, he lets the other man take his arm in his hand and draw back the sleeve of his sweater. The skin below, although caked with blood and grime, has stitched back together, recreating the same perfect plane of flesh that has existed for over a century.]
Peachy. [It's a relief, oddly, to let the truth be seen in such a straightforward way. Surprising, too, that there's no accompanying sense of regret. After this evening, he wants Larus to know. Dorian's eyes flick up to take in the other man's reaction, focused and intent on not missing a moment of it.
At least some kind of explanation is deserved.]
We're both something a little other, as you can see; This is why I was able to help you the way I did.
[ he shouldn't be surprised, not about this, and he makes an effort not to be, letting his fingers skim the healed line where blood had poured not so long ago. there's not a mark aside from the caked muck of their time spent in that room, the guilt of it stark even as he continues to hold onto him. his grip loosens slightly, meeting his eyes as his expression thins.
this is something he should have known. but how? ]
You should have told me before. [ maybe then, he wouldn't have been so worried about the amount of blood he'd lost. ] But –
[ larus forces himself to breathe, using his other hand to gently fold dorian's fingers over before squeezing them. he's dirty and tired and honestly feels like he could sleep for the next day or two. there's no doubt the other man probably feels the same or at least close to it. ]
I won't ever use that knowledge against you, and you shouldn't let this place do that either.
There wasn't any way. Not until I felt like I could trust you. [Larus coming to the edge of death had been an undeniable motivation, but if Dorian had truly wanted to protect his secret longer, there were other (worse) options he could have chosen as they'd struggled together in that little storeroom.
It shouldn't surprise, or move him that a vampire accepts something supernatural almost without seeming to think about it. But it's a relief. There have been more than a few examples of trying to get someone to believe in his curse requiring fighting with them over it and offering further displays of the remarkable powers of the portrait. The idea is exhausting right now. When Larus grips his hand, Dorian brings his other over to rest atop it.
His eyes roam over the soft, blood-splattered face before him. Larus looks as tired as he feels (much worse, really) and it's something easy to address now that they're alone.]
I wasn't planning on it. [A breath. This is a large step, and one taken not long after meeting someone new. It's not unfamiliar, but right now the weight of the conversations to come is settling over him like a heavy blanket.] But I think we can save the discussion about my secrets until we're not covered in three inches of blood. [It's not a rejection or a deflection done out of an attempt to avoid the subject, just a reminder of the other man's condition. Dorian turns his hand in Larus', wrapping his fingers around it.]
You'll be safe here, and if I put something up over the windows, you can rest and spend your time healing for as long as you need.
[ all he does is nod in response. of course he knows the dangers of revealing secrets, not that he has any at all to give, but it's something he's spoken about at length with other people not too long ago, wondering how to avoid such things or have them spill over unnecessarily. whatever dorian might or might not have to tell him, larus can wait. in fact, all of it can wait because he just wants to lay down and close his eyes.
his body practically demands it. ]
I know. [ there's a slight smile, just a twitch of lips that really looks like no expression at all. ] I was on my way to see you when it happened. To stay.
[ he'll need time to think about those particular events, but he already has his suspicions as to who's to blame for it. partly his own doing too, seeing as how trouble always finds him—even if unexpectedly. larus pushes that aside now though, grateful for the touch and not wanting so much space for the time being. slowly, he frees his hands so he can have use of them, fingers beginning to gently unbutton and remove dorian's coat, his shirt.
the clothes larus himself wears are a lost cause, probably. ]
[There's more to say and ask. Like about how Larus ended up in this position to begin with, if the Down isn't simply this dangerous.
But the idea of taking a shower and collapsing into bed for a few hours is beyond appealing right now. Dorian spares a small smile to the other man's recognition that he's welcome in his space, before he lets the matter go. There's going to be more to discuss once each of them is back on their feet again, and he's settled into the idea of that being sometime later down the line.
Dorian helps the other man free him from his coat and shirt, sighing. It feels good to be relieved of blood-heavy clothes, and even better to be tended to by thoughtful fingers. It's a good idea to undress here, before adjourning to his shower.]
I don't think there's hope for these, [he says, as he starts to help Larus out of his own jacket and shirt.] Do you mind? [If he just throws them away? He trusts they'll be able to figure out something else afterwards.]
[ he's not in the mood to speak anyhow, not with his thoughts as messy as they are. larus tries to focus on the task at hand, ignoring the tenderness in his chest as his jacket is pulled from him. then his shirt. it's clearly visible that he's still healing, some of his skin an interesting shade of pink beneath his usual pallor, but nothing's open or bleeding anymore. a good sign, though he tenses at the question.
his eyes fall to the jacket, clearly torn. ]
Maybe you should, [ he says slowly. throw it away. then, he'll have a few things to remind him of home and nothing else.
still, it's difficult, slowly stripping down the rest of the way as he helps dorian, and even if the weight of his beating no longer rests heavily on him, he can't really let it go. the danger of the down is something very real; given his own history with trying to survive such a place, larus isn't certain what would have happened if he hadn't had dorian to lean on. forced seclusion had never worked well for him, and it isn't going to work out in duplicity either.
larus takes his hand and leads him towards the bedroom. ] I owe you for what you did. Not that I approve of the means, but you might not have heard from me in weeks if you hadn't.
[Blood-soaked clothes are deposited into the trash beside the island in the middle of the kitchen, and Dorian lets his own drop to the floor to be dealt with later. All of it is going to require laundering, but that's a problem for some other point in time, if the high rise doesn't already have a cleaning service that will pick them up. It wouldn't surprise him.
Dorian lets Larus take him to the bedroom. It's remarkably comfortable to be in a state of undress with the other man, but being so after saving the vampire's life feels like a new level. If Larus doesn't direct them to the en suite and then the bathroom, Dorian will do so with a touch of his hand to the other man's arm.
As he reaches inside the shower to start the hot water running, Dorian chuckles at the idea that Larus owes him anything.]
If you're feeling guilty, don't. Anything you took from me was restored to me faster than a rendition of Blood on the Dance Floor.
[Steam gradually starts to filter in from the shower, fogging the mirrors in the room.]
[ larus isn't giving himself time to think (or question) any of that. he's been comfortable with dorian for a while, even before their more intimate encounter, and so, it really doesn't surprise him that this feels about the same. slightly different given the fact they're both filthy, but regardless, it's good. he feels safe, and for the first time in a while, larus realizes he doesn't have to be so on edge.
there's a look narrowed in dorian's direction that says he doesn't know what that is. blood on the dance floor? ]
I never said I felt guilty, only that I owed you.
[ and as it grows warmer, larus falls silent once more as he urges them both inside under blissfully hot water. at first, all he does is stand there and soak it up, conscious of the sensation of it as the water at their feet begins to turn a much darker color. he closes his eyes, letting the seconds go by before speaking only slightly louder than the spray of the shower. ]
I wanted to, [he says easily. This is the first real connection he's made in the city, but it's also one that's made sense and that feels worthwhile. There's so much that's felt out of place in the year since Toby's death, but this helps.]
It wasn't a chore, and like I said, it's something I did willingly. For your sake.
[It feels natural to reach out, so after a moment Dorian does, his hands smoothing over the surface of the other man's chest. Cleaning away caked blood from pink and freshly-healing flesh. One of his hands drifts up to Larus' face after a moment, and he tips the younger man's head. The bruise on the vampire's cheek is already starting to lighten. It's a good sign. Exhaling, he leans in to press their lips together.]
But if you're intent on paying me back, I'll listen. [He doesn't expect much to come of such an offer because none of the submissives in the city have two of anything. But there are things he desires from Larus, so he'll hear him out.]
[ his hair is nearly soaked through by the time dorian touches him, resting a palm against the other's chest as he leans into the pressure of his mouth. the kiss is light, tender. there's something there he should pursue, but the ability to concentrate still isn't entirely there, turning his face away from him so that his lips graze the corner of his mouth. his cheek. ]
It depends on what it is you want to hear.
[ after all the blood, he's feeling a bit more amiable. enough to talk or even offer dorian whatever it might be that he wants. larus has an idea though, an inkling of one. he hasn't spoken much of how he'd come to be like this, and any push in that direction has been immediately deflected.
could he offer that story to him in exchange for his life? he doesn't know. ]
[Dorian thinks about that for a long, drawn-out moment. There's only one thing that feels obvious, especially considering the dangers he just plucked the other man from.
It's mad, of course. But this city that he's been dropped into against his will is a mad place. If anything, this makes more sense than anything else has since he started trying to make a life for himself here. He craves the young vampire's company and has already gone this far to protect him.
This is the necessary next step.]
Your assent. [Hands on Larus' body smooth over his chest and up, to cup the sides of his neck.]
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You're right. But here I am, so you're going to have to deal with it and thank me later. [Reaching for the sleeve of his sweater that doesn't have a knife tucked inside it, Dorian tears at the top with his teeth, and then starts pulling down the length of it with his free hand to make a strip to go around the other man's thigh.]
Can you stand if I help you? We need to get you off the street and somewhere safe so I can stop the bleeding.
no subject
It'll stop on its own. [ eventually, maybe. he's only been struck down like this once, and the outcome had him relying on jericho's bitter werewolf blood to heal. he almost gags at the memory.] Sit me up.
[ it's still difficult to speak and moving is agonizing, but dorian's right. they need to get off the street. if anyone comes back to make sure they'd finished the job and found dorian... his hand tightens on him, searching for strength he doesn't have so he can try to get to his feet. ]
Need – to go. You're, [ his vision blurs when he leans forward. ] Not safe.
no subject
I'm safer than you'll ever be. So come on, and help me.
[The other man trying to move is encouraging. Grimacing, Dorian takes Larus' arm and wraps it tightly around his shoulders. The man is too close to his own size to make him convenient to carry, but he knows he can support him however far they need to go.
Glancing up and down the alleyway, Dorian notices a door at the end of it that seems to lead into some nameless, darkened storeroom. It'll do. He slings an arm around Larus' waist, and then starts his way to lifting them both to standing and moving towards it. It's a difficult climb and there's blood dripping and smearing everywhere, but eventually Dorian forces open the heavy, partially open door with his knee and then a kick, and pushes them in through it.
When he can, he lowers Larus down to settle the vampire against a carboard box, and then starts attending to wrapping his strip of sweater hard around his thigh.]
You're going to need blood to recover some of this. [It's a statement of fact. His eyes dart up briefly to Larus' face, before returning to the task his hands are busy with.] How much?
no subject
his vision is already too obscured, but he notices when they're inside, hating how out of control everything is. his movements, his inability to remain standing on his own. larus feels himself drift towards unconsciousness again as soon as he's on the ground; the squeeze of pressure around his thighs drags him out of it and into a question he'd feared.
he still does, but he's so thirsty — ]
I can't. [ there's force behind the words. ] Not– not from you.
[ personal as it is, he'll never get the taste of him out of his mind if it happens. he'll crave it until it drives him mad, and in some asinine attempt to put space between them, larus pushes backwards. but there's no strength to it, simply crushing into the box behind him and smearing more blood everywhere. ]
no subject
Dorian expected this reaction from the other man, but it’s not a good enough reason for Larus to let himself bleed out. Dorian doesn’t want this, the very least reason of which being that he’s going to need to find another place to hide Larus soon, and doing that while experiencing all of the sights and sounds of the Down through a veil of euphoria is going to be nearly impossible. Nevermind the visceral reminder of the act of giving up blood being something that had become precious to him—- romantic, even.
But he is not going to let this young immortal die, no matter what it takes.]
Stop it, Larus. [He’s not going to stop trying to stem the other man’s bleeding either, even if Larus is now making that difficult. Dorian grips at the vampire, trying to help him sit up again so he can at least look at the wound in his torso to decide if there’s anything that can be done for it at all.]
So the choice instead is to die? Tell me how that makes any sense.
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why would he choose now to give up? because he didn't want to taste the blood of someone else he'd gotten closer to?
he grimaces as he balances on one hand in an effort to sit upright once more, the protest in his body so great that he nearly doesn't succeed. yet, larus holds onto dorian like a lifeline, pulling himself close so he can rest his forehead anywhere against him—his arm, his shoulder. the loud ricochet of his heart is enough to tell him that none of this does make sense, trying to sort out any other reason he'd refuse and finding nothing. ]
I don't know how much, [ he whispers, stringing the words together carefully. ] But I don't – I won't kill you.
[ he has enough control over that. or he hopes he does. ]
no subject
You're not going to kill me, so don't start thinking about that. [He can't. There's only one thing that can truly kill him, and they're a full ten minutes away from it. In a way it makes him the ideal person for this, which is something Toby used to fear more than anything else whenever they encountered other vampires.
As Dorian's adjusting his grip and getting ready, the knife in his sleeve shifts and brushes sharply up against the side of his arm. Without even thinking on it further, he knows. That's it. Dorian pulls back his sleeve with his teeth and wordlessly shakes the knife out to let it clatter onto the blood-soaked floor. It's absurd, dirty, and although recently-sharpened, old. It's going to hurt.
He doesn't care.
He contemplates the blade for a moment, trying to decide exactly how to do it. It doesn't take long. When Dorian wields the knife, he unflinchingly and decisively cuts a vicious line down along the length of his arm, starting at the wrist and moving halfway up to the crook of his elbow. It's overkill-- or it would be, for someone who isn't going to heal from it in no time at all. Besides a knotting of his brows together and a sharp draw of breath as the pain of the cut radiates up his arm, there's no further reaction.
This is better. This way Larus doesn't have to bite him, and neither of them have to be forced through that additional anguish.
When he's finished, a strained sort of laugh drops from his lips and Dorian flexes his fingers, blood blossoming down the length of his arm and dropping wetly onto the ground and Larus' clothes.]
There. It's not my jugular, but I've never had any complaints about my radial. [He pulls Larus close. Shortly after he presses:] Be fast.
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dorian's skin is warm and slick, lips parted as it coats his tongue and he swallows. once, and he still might have been able to resist, could have pulled away to let his body fight over which places to send it and what to heal. but it floods down his throat, and a groan falls out of him, curling his fingers tighter and tighter to hold dorian right there against him until the blunt press of his nails must hurt. he drinks until he feels like he's going to be sick, and then, continues to drink more. each mouthful is finding some use somewhere—his flesh slowly knits itself together, he's stopped bleeding. there's less pain, but his mind is clouded, delirious. he wants more, so much more. he needs —
he needs to stop.
larus tears himself away, shoving dorian back to put distance between them. still, it doesn't feel like enough, sliding backwards and turning so he's half-curled on his side. teeth clenched, some of his strength is beginning to return, the most dangerous of his injuries finally closed, but he's exhausted and stressed, rolling over onto his hands and knees and squinting at dorian from beneath the fall of his hair. all he can think about is how he tastes. ]
You shouldn't have done that. Not like... [ he's clearly upset. ] Not like that.
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He catches himself on an arm, slips in the blood splattered all over the floor, and then grasps clumsily at a nearby box to steady himself.]
I did exactly what I had to. [Larus is healed enough to move like that, to make that face at him. He's glad.
A bit dizzy too, but relieved.
It's not over yet though.]
Can you get to your feet? [With his loose grip on the box, Dorian starts to haul himself to his feet. He's shaky as he reaches for the nearby wall, blood dripping onto the floor and down his arm, over his clothes.] If we can make it to the elevators and into the Up, we should be safe enough for now.
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Yes. [ bitten out through still clenched teeth, and he finally moves.
a step, and he's at dorian's side, a hand settling at a hip. ] Keep pressure on it so you don't bleed to death. Lean on me.
[ that last command is softer, pushing away the lingering pain that continues to radiate through his chest as he continues to heal. if he's honest, he needs more blood, but he's already taken too much, listening to the way dorian's heartbeat sounds as he guides them towards the door and nudges it open. they're not far from the elevators, and if need be, larus will just haul dorian into his arms and carry him back to his suite in the up. ]
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[Because there's no way that wasn't going to become obvious soon. As Larus puts a hand on him, he can already feel the slow, steady sensation of skin pulling back together. Of blood that belongs to this form, being stolen back from his portrait. A few breaths more, and the haze is starting to clear from his head.
However Larus has responded to his request, Dorian reaches down to take the other man's hand firmly in his own.]
Don't think about anything, just go. [He urges the other man along, breath coming more easily with every step. The dripping of blood slowing as they make their way out of the alley.] Back to my high rise.
[However all of this has panned out, neither of them is in good shape. It doesn't matter that neither of them is dying anymore. They need a safe place to escape to, and in this new city, his suite is the only one Dorian can think of.]
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then, they go.
as surprising as it should be, they're not given many looks as they navigate their way to the elevators and wait for them to descend so they can return to the up. a minute or two, luckily, and despite the early hour, there's no one loitering inside with them. probably a good thing considering how much blood they're covered in, larus subconsciously pressing his tongue against the back of his teeth like it will stop him from thinking about dorian in his mouth and down his throat. they're also close, crowded together, and he can smell him —
larus leans against him for a brief moment, his free hand lifting to touch dorian's jaw. a reminder, a need for contact that doesn't come with what he'd just done to him in some back alley room. he'll have time to say more later, pulling away and taking up his hold once more as they're finally somewhere safe. or safer, rather.
the walk to the building is shorter than it should be given their current condition, and the second elevator ride just as quick. once they're outside dorian's door, larus grimaces at the sight of them reflected in polished surfaces. it's not a good look on anyone, hoping to keep the smears to a minimum as soon as they get inside.
and when they are, his voice is unusually soft. ] I'm sorry.
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His arm is still stinging, but from the amount of pain he can tell that soon enough the only discomfort will be from the itch of dried and caked blood.]
Don't be. [He joins Larus at the front of the room again, gaze roaming briefly over the man's form, checking for open wounds now that they're free from the chaos of escaping the Down. When he doesn't find anything serious, the remaining tension relaxes from his shoulders.] If you hadn't called me like you did, you wouldn't be standing here right now. [Or at all, probably.]
Is the rest going to heal with time now that you've fed? [He brings up a hand, thumbing gently at the skin below a dark bruise on the vampire's cheek.]
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I didn't have anyone else. [ it's a quiet state of fact, moving on quickly as if he hadn't just said such a thing. ] You won't be able to tell soon enough. [ so, yes. ]
How's your arm?
[ larus reaches for it because he feels like he can, intent on inspecting the cut and just how deeply dorian must have wounded himself. at the very least, he's grateful that he hadn't had to bite him; the outcome of that would have been so much worse than some wound that could heal, still very much aware of the taste on his tongue and the way he craves it. the way he craves the other man in a general sense is equally astounding, though he pushes that aside in favor of trying to look him over. ]
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Peachy. [It's a relief, oddly, to let the truth be seen in such a straightforward way. Surprising, too, that there's no accompanying sense of regret. After this evening, he wants Larus to know. Dorian's eyes flick up to take in the other man's reaction, focused and intent on not missing a moment of it.
At least some kind of explanation is deserved.]
We're both something a little other, as you can see; This is why I was able to help you the way I did.
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this is something he should have known. but how? ]
You should have told me before. [ maybe then, he wouldn't have been so worried about the amount of blood he'd lost. ] But –
[ larus forces himself to breathe, using his other hand to gently fold dorian's fingers over before squeezing them. he's dirty and tired and honestly feels like he could sleep for the next day or two. there's no doubt the other man probably feels the same or at least close to it. ]
I won't ever use that knowledge against you, and you shouldn't let this place do that either.
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It shouldn't surprise, or move him that a vampire accepts something supernatural almost without seeming to think about it. But it's a relief. There have been more than a few examples of trying to get someone to believe in his curse requiring fighting with them over it and offering further displays of the remarkable powers of the portrait. The idea is exhausting right now. When Larus grips his hand, Dorian brings his other over to rest atop it.
His eyes roam over the soft, blood-splattered face before him. Larus looks as tired as he feels (much worse, really) and it's something easy to address now that they're alone.]
I wasn't planning on it. [A breath. This is a large step, and one taken not long after meeting someone new. It's not unfamiliar, but right now the weight of the conversations to come is settling over him like a heavy blanket.] But I think we can save the discussion about my secrets until we're not covered in three inches of blood. [It's not a rejection or a deflection done out of an attempt to avoid the subject, just a reminder of the other man's condition. Dorian turns his hand in Larus', wrapping his fingers around it.]
You'll be safe here, and if I put something up over the windows, you can rest and spend your time healing for as long as you need.
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his body practically demands it. ]
I know. [ there's a slight smile, just a twitch of lips that really looks like no expression at all. ] I was on my way to see you when it happened. To stay.
[ he'll need time to think about those particular events, but he already has his suspicions as to who's to blame for it. partly his own doing too, seeing as how trouble always finds him—even if unexpectedly. larus pushes that aside now though, grateful for the touch and not wanting so much space for the time being. slowly, he frees his hands so he can have use of them, fingers beginning to gently unbutton and remove dorian's coat, his shirt.
the clothes larus himself wears are a lost cause, probably. ]
You've helped me tonight. Let me help you.
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But the idea of taking a shower and collapsing into bed for a few hours is beyond appealing right now. Dorian spares a small smile to the other man's recognition that he's welcome in his space, before he lets the matter go. There's going to be more to discuss once each of them is back on their feet again, and he's settled into the idea of that being sometime later down the line.
Dorian helps the other man free him from his coat and shirt, sighing. It feels good to be relieved of blood-heavy clothes, and even better to be tended to by thoughtful fingers. It's a good idea to undress here, before adjourning to his shower.]
I don't think there's hope for these, [he says, as he starts to help Larus out of his own jacket and shirt.] Do you mind? [If he just throws them away? He trusts they'll be able to figure out something else afterwards.]
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his eyes fall to the jacket, clearly torn. ]
Maybe you should, [ he says slowly. throw it away. then, he'll have a few things to remind him of home and nothing else.
still, it's difficult, slowly stripping down the rest of the way as he helps dorian, and even if the weight of his beating no longer rests heavily on him, he can't really let it go. the danger of the down is something very real; given his own history with trying to survive such a place, larus isn't certain what would have happened if he hadn't had dorian to lean on. forced seclusion had never worked well for him, and it isn't going to work out in duplicity either.
larus takes his hand and leads him towards the bedroom. ] I owe you for what you did. Not that I approve of the means, but you might not have heard from me in weeks if you hadn't.
[ or never again if he'd actually died. ]
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Dorian lets Larus take him to the bedroom. It's remarkably comfortable to be in a state of undress with the other man, but being so after saving the vampire's life feels like a new level. If Larus doesn't direct them to the en suite and then the bathroom, Dorian will do so with a touch of his hand to the other man's arm.
As he reaches inside the shower to start the hot water running, Dorian chuckles at the idea that Larus owes him anything.]
If you're feeling guilty, don't. Anything you took from me was restored to me faster than a rendition of Blood on the Dance Floor.
[Steam gradually starts to filter in from the shower, fogging the mirrors in the room.]
And I gave it willingly.
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there's a look narrowed in dorian's direction that says he doesn't know what that is. blood on the dance floor? ]
I never said I felt guilty, only that I owed you.
[ and as it grows warmer, larus falls silent once more as he urges them both inside under blissfully hot water. at first, all he does is stand there and soak it up, conscious of the sensation of it as the water at their feet begins to turn a much darker color. he closes his eyes, letting the seconds go by before speaking only slightly louder than the spray of the shower. ]
You weren't obligated to come to my rescue.
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It wasn't a chore, and like I said, it's something I did willingly. For your sake.
[It feels natural to reach out, so after a moment Dorian does, his hands smoothing over the surface of the other man's chest. Cleaning away caked blood from pink and freshly-healing flesh. One of his hands drifts up to Larus' face after a moment, and he tips the younger man's head. The bruise on the vampire's cheek is already starting to lighten. It's a good sign. Exhaling, he leans in to press their lips together.]
But if you're intent on paying me back, I'll listen. [He doesn't expect much to come of such an offer because none of the submissives in the city have two of anything. But there are things he desires from Larus, so he'll hear him out.]
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It depends on what it is you want to hear.
[ after all the blood, he's feeling a bit more amiable. enough to talk or even offer dorian whatever it might be that he wants. larus has an idea though, an inkling of one. he hasn't spoken much of how he'd come to be like this, and any push in that direction has been immediately deflected.
could he offer that story to him in exchange for his life? he doesn't know. ]
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It's mad, of course. But this city that he's been dropped into against his will is a mad place. If anything, this makes more sense than anything else has since he started trying to make a life for himself here. He craves the young vampire's company and has already gone this far to protect him.
This is the necessary next step.]
Your assent. [Hands on Larus' body smooth over his chest and up, to cup the sides of his neck.]
Contract with me.
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.... forgot about sunlight woops shhh
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