Hello once again! Usagi323 and I return with our third consecutive RP. This one is called Nymphetamine Addiction, and is sort of named after the song Nymphetamine by Cradle of Filth. The word is an amalgamation of Nymphetamine and Amphetamine. It literally means "addicted to death". There is a cover to the story featured on my DeviantART and Tumblr. Links to each are located in my bio.

This is a RusAme Vampire!AU. I love supernatural AUs revolving around this pairing, and there seemed to be a shortage of them, so here we are now. As usual, thanks to my RP partner Usagi323 for co-writing this with me. Much love, dear. Much love.

Translations: French will appear in italics. English is normal. Translating the words at the bottom of chapters is so annoying for both the writers and the readers.

Warnings: This story will contain violence, some gore, blood play, vampires and biting, smut, language...the usual vampire-horror stuff.

Ivan sat perched on top of a Paris building, watching as a drunken man stumbled his way along the sidewalk. It was early in the morning, around 2AM or so, and the streets were relatively empty and quiet. The man was singing loudly some French song in his obnoxious, slurred voice while also trying to dance around the streetlights on the sidewalk. Violet eyes narrowed and zeroed in on his neck, particularly his jugular. Even from his spot on the high roof, Ivan could hear the steady throb of his pulse in his veins. He felt the hunger pains, the dry burn in his throat as his blood lust grew. It had been a long while since he had fed, a couple days to be exact. He had been focused on getting to Paris as quickly as possible that he had forgone the process of feeding along the way. Now he was pleasantly hungry and there just so happened to be an oblivious stranger dancing along the sidewalks below him.

He'd been to Paris before with his creator a long time ago. Actually, he'd been here numerous times in his existence as a vampire. He can remember whenever he first visited the city, the size being much, much smaller back then. It was during the period of the 100 Years war, and also during the time of the horrible epidemic known as the Black Death. The blood had been stale and tainted back then, a bitter taste on his tongue. People were dropping like flies. It was easy to sneak a meal amiss the piles of bodies that went unaccounted for. However, it didn't matter, because the blood was thin and disgusting from the spread of the disease. Ivan, in all his immortality, had been shielded from the sickness. But that was then, and this was now, and he had a meal waiting for him below.

Jumping down silently from the roof of the building, he landed nimbly on his feet, barely jostling himself and making no noise whatsoever. The drunk was still unaware of his presence, stumbling along the sidewalk and almost falling out into the traffic-less street. Ivan waited until the man disappeared into the shadow of a building before gliding soundlessly up behind him. He usually preferred to play with his food before eating, but tonight was different and this was all purely about hunger. Quickly grabbing the back of the man's jacket, he flung him effortlessly into the darkness of an alleyway. The man stumbled and fell back against a wall, his fogged mind slow and unable to absorb what had just happened. Ivan was upon him the next second, flipping him around and smashing his face into the brick wall of the building. The violet eyed vampire held him in place there, mouth watering at the smell of blood. He must have broken the man's nose. The smell wasn't particularly anything special - average at best - but beggars couldn't be choosers and Ivan wasn't about to wait any longer for dinner.

Peeling back the man's color, he sank his fangs in none too gently, and crimson exploded into his mouth. It was warm, slightly thin and a little too watery, but would suffice the burning thirst. What didn't go into Ivan's mouth dripped down the man's shoulder, dampening his clothes and staining them with dark red. The man gave a weak garbled noise as blood welled up in his throat, a small line dribbling down his chin as Ivan fed on him like a rabid animal. There was no need to be gentle, not in Ivan's mind. The man was nothing to him. He wasn't some unearthly beauty who needed to be treated with the utmost care. He was some drunk who was probably coming home to either a worried, mistreated wife or an empty house. So Ivan showed him no mercy, tearing at the skin of his throat with his fangs and not even bothering to make it any less painful for him.

Whenever Ivan felt the dull pain in his stomach disappear and his throat cleansed of the burning sensation, he pulled away with a sharp gasp, blood drenching his mouth and leaving a large trail down his neck and into his scarf. He wiped his mouth across the back of his sleeve, staining it as well. Dropping the body ungracefully on the ground, he stilled himself for a second, taking in the feeling of another successful kill. If there was one thing that never lost its zest in Ivan's long and fairly monotonous life (it was monotonous to him) it was the thrill of the kill and the taste of fresh blood on his lips. He rarely ever let anyone live through his feeding sessions. He'd heard of vampire's trying to refrain from killing their victims, instead feeding just a little bit and then erasing their memories before coming back later to repeat the process. However, Ivan didn't care for familiarity, nor did he care that much for human life. To him, they were literally, no matter how silly the expression was, meals on wheels. He had no problem with taking the life of another. He may have had a conscious in the beginning, but that was almost a thousand years ago and the word 'guilt' barely registered in his mind anymore.

Sending a chilling smile down at the corpse below him, he began backing out of the alley before disappearing in a sudden gush of wind, his form too quick for the human eye to catch.

Daytime was miserable.

The sun was annoying and uncomfortable on his head. It always gave him headaches if he spent too much time directly under the sun. It was like being really sleepy and trying to do hard labor in a harsh environment. It never felt okay.

So whenever Ivan spotted a nice little cozy-looking cafe up ahead, he quickly ducked inside, grateful or the cool air-conditioning and the shade from the sun. Not wanting to look too suspicious, he took a seat at a small two-seater table. He had to admit, it always felt strange being around humans in such public places, watching them eat and drinks things that no longer appealed to Ivan. Though, he would admit that he was always curious about what soda pop tasted like or what all the buzz around the McDonald's epidemic was. It wasn't like he could just pick up a Pepsi and take a swig of it, either. His taste buds were largely altered by his vampirism. It would probably taste like it shouldn't, bitter and sour on his tongue and not right at all. His body rejected human food, unless the food was human of course.

As he drummed his fingers on the small, polished table, Ivan drowned out the chatter of the small cafe as best as he could. Sometimes having enhanced hearing was a blessing and a curse. He could hear shuffling from the back of the cafe, someone talking rapidly in French. Their accent was slightly strange, as if they weren't used to speaking in that language much. It caught his attention nonetheless, so he listened intently. The chattering continued for a small bit before cutting off abruptly. A few seconds later, he could make out the same voice, but this time it was in English. 'Ah.' Ivan thought simply to himself. That would explain the accent to his French. The voice grew slightly louder and Ivan could tell he was about to walk into the lobby of the cafe. The double doors to the storage room opened, causing a small gust of wind to gust through the lobby. Ivan stiffened immediately, the scent catching him off guard. There was no way that could be the smell of iced coffee.

A cheerful, smiling blonde walked out into the middle of the lobby. His hair was the exact shade of the sunshine, bright and golden and shining. His eyes matched the sky, a beautiful blue color guarded by bright red glasses. His skin was a rich color, sun kissed and healthy looking and above all, beautiful. He looked around awkwardly for a bit, looking for a patron to serve. Whenever he spotted Ivan's empty table, he shot him a bright, white smile and began walking towards his table.

Ivan's muscles were tensed, his hands unconsciously gripping the side of the table tightly. It was a miracle that the hard surface didn't crack under his strength. As the blonde came closer, his scent became stronger. It swirled around him, rich and sweet and exotic and overall so delicious. Ivan felt his mouth water at the smell, his tongue running hungrily over a sharp fang. Even though he wasn't even remotely thirsty at the moment, the need to bend that blonde over the table and sink his teeth into his jugular was as strong as ever. He wanted to whisk him into his arms and look into those blue eyes, watch them cloud with desire and confusion and lust, run his tongue over the vein on his neck, taste that beautiful sun kissed skin, feel his fangs sink into it gently, and just drink.

All of these thoughts passed through Ivan's mind in a couple short seconds. He realized how strange he must have looked to the other, tensed up like an animal ready to strike. Forcing his muscles to relax and his posture soften a bit, he tried putting on a polite smile for the blonde. He folded his hands politely over each other, trying to quell the raging hunger in his being.

Alfred F. Jones was just an average American 19 year old guy. He loved sports, comic books, fast food, coffee, and video games. He also though, loved literature. That's why when the college he was attending had a studying abroad program for French Literature, Alfred jumped at the opportunity. Of course Alfred being Alfred hadn't really thought that decision all the way through, and so only armed with a bit of basic French that he taught himself over the weeks of working his ass off to be able to afford this trip, he made it to France. The first couple weeks there blew his mind away considering he only knew so much French, but like they say, the fastest way to learn a language was to go where they spoke it. It also helped that he made friends with this nice, if not completely perverted and flirtatious native Parisian by the name of Francis Bonnefoy. He met Francis on his third day in Paris when he was arguing with his British lover Arthur Kirkland outside in the park where Alfred was trying to study up more on the language. Needless to say, he pounced all over them when he heard English in their conversation, thus starting a beautiful friendship between the three. And by beautiful Alfred meant they all bickered with each other all the time, but it was all in good fun. Francis had helped him get used to speaking French and also helped Alfred find his a job at a cute little cafe while he was looking for a job to support himself here.

That was why Alfred a month later was currently fumbling with some stuff he needed to put into storage. The stupid plastic spoons refused to fit ANYWHERE on these god forsaken, overstuffed shelves. He cursed quietly in French first, and then as Alfred's frustration grew he switched back to English before giving up and just setting them on the floor. Still muttering angrily about uncooperative spoons, he approached the double doors that lead out of the storage room so he could continue with his real job of greeting and serving the customers. Alfred immediately felt his previous irritation melt away as he was met with welcomed light of the afternoon, fall sun shining through the cafe windows. After being in the dark storage, it felt nice to feel the sun's beams warm his skin. With a cheery smile, he scanned the room for anyone to serve. His blue eyes caught violet as he spotted a man looking at him. The man was pale with violet eyes that seemed to glow and ashen colored blonde hair that covered the tops of his ears, with bangs that almost reached his eyes as if he hadn't had a hair cut in a while. He was wearing a pale pinkish scarf and a long black coat with long pants. He also had a big cute nose. To put it simply, this guy was hot. Walking over to serve the hot customer, he put on his friendliest smile and kept it there even when he noticed the man tense for a few seconds before relaxing. When Alfred was standing in front of the man's table he asked in a casual tone, "What can I get for ya?" Alfred then flushed lightly in embarrassment for a moment realizing he accidentally said that in English, giving the other man an apologetic smile he laughed sheepishly. "Eh heh heh… Sorry, I meant to ask what can I get for you?"

Ivan fumbled for words, seemingly forgetting about his centuries of social practice. Finally finding his voice, he replied in a soft voice. "Ah…I am…not particularly thirsty at the moment. Thank you." Well, it wasn't really the truth. He was quite thirsty actually, but for something entirely different. His French was a tad rusty. He couldn't speak it with the fluidity that the natives could. His English was better, but if this human wanted to speak French...he cleared his throat, beginning again. "I do speak English." The waiter's face lit up slightly, his eyes widening in pleasant surprise. Ivan realized with an internal sigh that there was no reason for him to say that. He could have kept his mouth shut and let the waiter proceed with his work elsewhere. There was no use in trying to humor this American stranger. Why do something like that whenever he'd more than likely end up as a meal for Ivan later? Drawing little patterns on the table with the tips of his fingers, he was a little surprised to still find the blonde waiter still standing near him. He looked up catching his sapphire eyes – brilliant sapphire eyes – with his own violet ones. The waiter was sending him a sheepish look now. The doors to the café swung open, the bell tied to it ringing as a French couple came in. An even stronger gust of wind blew in and Ivan didn't miss the opportunity to catch a better whiff of the blonde's scent. It was stronger this time, the smell permeating the air around Ivan and causing him to close his eyes. He took in an unnoticeable deep breath through his noise, letting the sweet scent assault his senses. He salivated again at the delicious smell, his fingers curling into his palms and threatening to draw blood. He wanted him.

Alfred was a bit surprised for two reasons; one being that Ivan came into a cafe and didn't seem to want to order anything, the other reason was the fact the stranger spoke English. The first cause of his surprise he supposed could be that the ashen haired man was just trying to escape the sun. He did look really pale. He could be one of those people allergic to sunlight and got migraines when they were out in it too long, like Arthur and Francis were. He could have also been waiting for someone too, and wasn't going to order anything until they arrived. He heard the bell on the entrance to the cafe's door ding, and looked over to where some French couple where making their way to a table. Alfred quickly informed the strange man he was currently serving, "If you're going to stay here at least order water, otherwise the boss might kick you out for loitering. Unless, of course, you're waiting for someone." He winked at the violet eyed man in a friendly manner, hoping whoever he may be waiting for wasn't his girlfriend or something for some reason. Probably because he'd feel awkward ogling at a taken man.

The idea of being put back out into the sun wasn't a pleasant one. Ivan weighed his options. He could walk around Paris, feeling like he was about to pass out or he could sip on some tasteless water, stay in the nice shade of the restaurant, and enjoy the mouthwatering smell of the waiter in front of him. Sighing, he laced his fingers together. "Some water would be fine." It would be annoying to drink, but not as annoying as the sun. The waiter nodded his approval and disappeared to the counter. Ivan took the moment to lament over his earlier thoughts. What would he do? Catch the waiter outside the restaurant later? Would he spend his entire day inside this place, waiting and watching? No…no. That would be much too creepy and noticeable. Who just comes in a café to sit around all day? The waiter did look awfully young. Maybe he could try out that whole 'leaving your victims alive' thing. He laughed darkly to himself, his humor cold. That would be a first.

Alfred soon came back with some water, placing it in front of Ivan with a cheerful grin. "And there you go big guy. I'm Alfred by the way, Alfred F. Jones. If you need me, just wave me down." As curious as the sunshine blonde was about this man, he had a job to do and he knew he should be serving the couple that just sat down a second ago before they got impatient. Walking over to the couple, he quickly took their order, having switched back to accented French and continued on his day serving customers, chatting with fellow workers and occasionally sneaking glances at the pale stranger sitting by himself.

After spending more time than necessary, Ivan left the café. He had popped in at about 3PM and the clock now read 5PM. According to the little French numbers scrawled on the glass of the entrance door, their hours were from 11AM to 6PM. Only one more hour, and the lovely smelling waiter would leave work. The sun was still hot and a little high in the sky, but it wasn't nearly as intense as it was earlier in the day. Ivan was still annoyed by the uncomfortable rays that shone down on him, but he forced himself to ignore it for the most part. If it had been any other situation, he would have just found a nice shady spot in the park and stayed in it. But he didn't want to let that café out of his sight. He ran all the scenarios in his head. Where would he corner the waiter? How would the situation go down? Would he just assault him like he did most of his prey, or would he…resort to softer measures? While the thought of the waiter screaming in pain whilst his neck was torn open wasn't exactly an unpleasant one, neither was the thought of him giving in willingly, letting Ivan do with him as he wanted. Bright eyes half lidded in pleasure and mouth open in a silent moan…Ivan licked his lips hungrily. He wasn't sure how much longer he could be patient.

By the time closing time rolled around, Alfred felt tired, rolling a stiff shoulder until he heard a satisfying pop. Alfred stacked the last chair on a table and walked into the changing room. Putting on a light red hoodie over a superman T-shirt, worn jeans and converses, Alfred exited the changing room and called out to his boss that he was heading out. The entire time he'd been changing, his thoughts wandered to the strange, but hot man from earlier. The whole time he worked, he felt his violet eyes on his back, and it made him wonder if the man was interested in him or something. Stepping out into the evening sun Alfred let out a yawn. When he got to his apartment he'd have to get started on his assigned books for college. He had classes tomorrow. Alfred had classes on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays. He worked on Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays, leaving Sunday as his lazy day or cram day if he didn't do an assignment or study for test. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a figure. Blinking in shock, he turned to the figure. Alfred's eyebrows shot up as he saw the man from earlier. Now Alfred would admit that was a bit creepy. Despite his shock, he let an easy grin take over his face as he waved, "Hey! You're that guy from earlier! Um, what's your name?" He asked as we walked over to the man.

Ivan flashed him a brilliant smile, the faintest hint of snowy white teeth poking out from behind pale lips. "Oh, how silly of me. My name is Ivan Braginsky." He reached out, extending his hand – the universal sign of a greeting. The waiter – Alfred – shook his hand. His skin was warm and soft and Ivan could feel the faint thrum of a pulse beneath it. It sounded incredible from where he was standing. Alfred made an attempt to pull back his hand, but Ivan didn't let go on his part. He squeezed Alfred's hand tighter, rooting him to the spot. "You were so nice to me back at that café." Ivan purred, eyes going half lidded. "You don't meet many people with that type of work demeanor." He was silently amused by the slightly nervous smile that Alfred was trying to pass off. He could see right through it. He could smell the fear rolling off of him.

Alfred felt himself get a bit apprehensive as Ivan continued to hold his hand. Smiling nervously, he thought that he might have run into some sort of creeper or stalker. Laughing awkwardly, Alfred stated half-jokingly and half seriously, "Thanks! But can you let go of my hand? 'Cause it's kinda creepy that it seems you wait out here for me just to say that. And I'll let you know I'm one lean, mean, fighting machine when I feel threatened." With that he was able to jerk his hand away. Alfred didn't like this situation. It felt too sketchy.

Ivan tilted his head slightly, still smiling and amused by Alfred's nervous banter. "Really?" He got a stiff nod in return from the blonde. Laughing quietly to himself, he let it trail off softly. In a sudden gust of wind, he'd grabbed the blonde by the collar of his hoodie and carried him off. All it took was a few split seconds to reach where he wanted to be. The world stopped moving under their feet Ivan was greeted with the sight of a dark alley way. It was always his preferred spot for carrying out his meals. People didn't realize how dangerous these little corridors actually were. Pressing Alfred back into the cool stone wall of a building, he leaned in close, nose almost brushing Alfred's and amethyst eyes glowing dangerously. "Would you mind proving that to me?" God, Alfred smelled even better up close. Ivan lowered his head, leaning into the crook of Alfred's neck and breathing in deeply. He shuddered at the sweet smell, the throbbing pulse of his blood in his veins a delicious sound. Leaning back a bit so he could stare into Alfred's blue eyes, he smiled sweetly, his fangs poking slightly out of his mouth. A hand was pressed almost painfully into Alfred's chest, holding him against to wall and pinning him down. The other was resting above Alfred's head, Ivan's forearm lying evening against the cool stone of the building.

Alfred was blushing heavily as he was pushed into an alley way, Ivan pressing him painfully against the wall before leaning in. Alfred didn't know why, but he had a feeling Ivan wasn't a stalker or rapist. No, he had more of a feeling that Ivan was some sort of predator and that made both a fearful, yet excited shiver run down his spine. Not liking the feeling of being helpless prey, Alfred let an irritated smile twitch on his face, "Funny thing about me Ivan is..." Alfred trailed, waiting until Ivan was distracted, as a breeze blew by causing Ivan to pause almost like he was smelling the air. Alfred smirked at the opening and kneed Ivan hard in the nads. He saw Ivan's eyes bulge in shock as he doubled over in pain and released Alfred. When wide violet eyes looked up into irritated blue, his face was met with a stronger punch then he'd think could come from this human, considering how he seemed more lean than ripped. Alfred then stepped toward the exit of the alleyway, then faced Ivan with a scowl on his face. "You need to take me out on a date first buddy before you can even contemplate touching me like that!" And with that, the irate and sweet smelling blonde turned to leave.

Ivan clutched his slightly aching face, surprised that a mere mortal could actually cause him such an amount of pain. It wasn't terribly painful, but still painful nonetheless. Above all, it was shocking to say the least. Ivan could takes punches and scratches and kicks like they were nothing, but apparently that wasn't the case with Alfred. Rubbing the slightly red spot on his jaw, he quickly trailed after the blonde, his speed too great for Alfred. He hadn't even made it half way out of the alleyway before Ivan had his hands on him again, dragging him back to where they were before and slamming him hard up against the wall. The blonde's head collided with the hard surface, but Ivan didn't smell any blood. Clutching Alfred by his arms this time, he dug his nails in harshly, causing the American to groan in pain. "That was stupid." Ivan all but growled, glaring angry violet at Alfred. "You would think that after seeing how fast I move, you wouldn't even attempt escape. Obviously, you are not as bright as you seem." He pressed his hand against the base of Alfred's throat, sliding it up and forcing his head to tilt back. "How foolish. I was thinking about making this easy on you, but I am having serious doubts now." He leaned in, his cheek brushing as Alfred as his lips were poised at the blonde's ear. "Maybe I will kill you after all."

Alfred felt cold fear and adrenaline course through his veins, causing him squirm in his grip in a weak attempt at a struggle. He found that Ivan was completely over powering him. At Ivan's comment, he whimpered out, "N-No."

"No?" Ivan repeated the word, his tone filled with mock sympathy. He stared down at Alfred, taking in his appearance. Bright blue eyes widened in fear, his body trembled against Ivan's, and it was just oh so lovely. "No." Ivan said again, voice dropping an octave and as cold as ice. "Then maybe you should have thought your actions through." He snagged a hand into Alfred's hair, jerking his head back roughly and exposing the long expanse of his neck before leaning forward and plunging his fangs in hard. A sharp scream emitted from Alfred and hot, warm, blood filled Ivan's mouth. It was just as heavenly as he thought it would be; thick, creamy, warm, and sweet. The liquid slid across his tongue and down his throat in such a wonderful way that Ivan thought he would faint from the sensation of it all. His senses reeled as he drank hungrily, but slowly. His eyes fluttered closed of their own accord and a pleasurable shiver ran up his spine. He hadn't tasted blood of this quality in…centuries, if not ever in his existence as an immortal.

Through his sweet, drunken haze, Ivan could faintly make out pathetic whimpering and crying. There was hands gripping his shoulders tightly and trying to push him away. As his hearing slowly became more acute, he could make out a broken sound. It wasn't…as pleasant as he would have wanted it to be. It actually sounded pretty damn bad and was doing nothing to help his little blood high at the moment. Pulling his fangs out of Alfred's skin with a wet, ripping sound, he leaned back far enough to look at the blonde. He was gasping sharply, his eyes even wider than before with tears running down his cheeks. His lip was bleeding from where he had bitten down so hard, trying to do something to help quell the pain. He trembled and shook like a leaf in the wind. A shaking hand came up to his neck and he felt around the spot where his skin was mangled by Ivan's fangs. He barely touched it before drawing back with a pained yelp.

Ivan decided that he didn't like the display at all. The expression was unfitting for Alfred. It went against his nice, cheery, sociable demeanor. And that sound…good lord, that sound, that crying. Ivan hated it the most. Licking his lips clean of any blood on them, his eyes flashed bright violet. He placed his hands on Alfred's cheekbones and forced him to look him in the eyes. "Alfred…" He purred, low and seductive. Alfred's frantic gasping and trembling began to still a little, his body becoming a little more lax with the passing seconds. He stared, transfixed by Ivan's eyes and unmoving against the vampire. Ivan cocked his head a little, running his tongue over a bloody fang. "Be still." The order was short and simple. Keeping his eyes locked on Alfred's for a few more short seconds, he finally broke away and lowered his head back down to Alfred's neck. This time, he sank his fangs in slowly and gently, earning a small gasp instead of the horrid scream from last time. Ivan sucked softly, drawing in more of Alfred's delicious, creamy blood and relishing in the flavor. He moaned against the blonde's neck, his hand carding through Alfred's hair in a soothing manner. His stomach felt warm and full, Ivan's entire being seemingly radiating warmth from the sweet liquid.

Alfred cried out in agony as his neck was ruthlessly pierced by something. It felt like his throat was going to be torn apart. Alfred bit his lip until it bled to keep from crying out more. Unfortunately, the red hot pain proved to be too much and Alfred felt himself crying out until his voice was hoarse. This left Alfred with just sobbing and whimpering as tears trailed down his face from the agonizing pain. After what felt like an eternity, he felt whatever was tearing into his neck being torn out from inside his neck, causing the much younger blonde to give a yelp at the sharp pain that came from the action.

After several seconds of Alfred writhing in pain from his earlier torment, his face scrunched up from the pain, he felt a much gentler hand turning his face to make eye contact with his tormentor. Alfred's pain soaked blue eyes met alluring bright violet. Ivan's eyes were practically glowing. Suddenly Alfred relaxed a smidgen as he complied with Ivan's command, shivering pleasantly at the tone he was using. He then felt a similar piercing sensation, only this one was a much smoother entry that borderlined pleasurable. Alfred relaxed completely into Ivan's strong grip and gasped softly at the soft sucking feeling and the vibrations he felt in his neck from Ivan moaning caused him to moan lightly as well. He felt a hand stroke and tangle into his hair soothingly. This experience was definitely more enjoyable then the last one.

A soft, shaky moan resided from Alfred, and Ivan felt himself wanting to smile. Now that was a pleasant sound. He drank very slowly, relishing every drop of sweet crimson as it flooded past his tongue and down his throat. Whenever he began to feel the other's heartbeat weakening, he pulled away with a wet suck, a line of blood dripping off of his chin. Alfred's hoodie was soaked at the collar, the skin of his neck marred with torn skin and the imprints of Ivan's fangs. The blonde braced himself unsteadily against the wall, his legs shaking and knees threatening to buckle together. Flashing that glowing, amethyst gaze on him once again, Ivan forced Alfred to focus on him. Ivan raised his hand to his own neck, digging his nails in and slicing a line across his pale skin. He hissed a bit as the pain registered, but didn't pay it any mind. He wasn't going to let Alfred die, no. Ivan had tasted his blood and now he had an insatiable craving for it. He'd want more…he'd be back later to drink again. And next time, he'd make sure to make Alfred moan for him. Dark blood oozed out of the cut and down Ivan's neck in a dark line. Placing his hand on the back of Alfred's head, he eased him forward so that the blonde's mouth was lingering over the self-inflicted wound. "Drink." He commanded. A pair of warm lips closed over the cut and he felt Alfred suck. Ivan drew in a quick breath, feeling a warm tongue slide over the wound. Alfred's arms wrapped around Ivan's neck, and soon he could feel him sucking hungrily at the cut, pulling whatever blood he could from it. Ivan shuddered, hearing Alfred moan wantonly and desperately against his neck. "A-Ahh…" Ivan couldn't suppress the small whimper. He'd done this before, a long time ago, but never had someone drank so eagerly and hungrily from him.

Alfred felt like he was only half awake when Ivan finally stopped suckling on his neck. Everything felt muted and dulled, his vision fuzzy, but that didn't falter the ashen man's gaze effect on him. Even as he only half registered the fact Ivan was cutting into his own neck slightly with his fingers, just enough to draw blood, he felt compelled to just stare in awe at the handsome stranger. He once again obeyed Ivan wordlessly when ordered to drink his dark blood from the self-inflicted wound. In his weak state, he wrapped his arms round the injured pale neck for support as he hungrily lapped and suckled at the bloody wound. The blood itself didn't taste good. It tasted like iron like all blood did, but that wasn't why he was sucking so eagerly. It was what the blood was doing to him, making him hungrily suck it up. He slowly started to feel less weakened as well as warm inside. He vaguely registered moaning in pleasure at the feeling of hot and heavy blood settling pleasantly in his own stomach. Not long after, Ivan made a soft gasping noise, causing Alfred to smile almost drunkenly against his neck. Soon Alfred came off him with soft wet pop, then proceeded to sleepily press against Ivan. He wasn't as weak anymore, he was just now extremely tired. He heard Ivan ask him where he lived as if through a muffler as slowly Alfred's world began to fade. He mumbled where his college and dorm was before his world turned completely black.