Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Fandoms: แค่เพื่อนครับเพื่อน | Bad Buddy: the Series (TV)
Categories: M/M
Relationships: Pat Napat Jindapat/Pran Parakul Siridechawat
Characters: Pat Napat Jindapat, Pran Parakul Siridechawat
Additional Tags: Idiots In Love, i love how that's a tag, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Vampires, Accidental Bonding, vampires can have bonds too ya know, Human/Vampire Relationship, temporarily, Vampire Bites, tell me that Pat wouldn't have a thing for Pran biting him, Angst, Pat Napat Jindapat/Pran Parakul Siridechawat in Love, Soft Pat Napat Jindapat/Pran Parakul Siridechawat, Pran Parakul Siridechawat is a Tease, Pat Napat Jindapat Has a Scent Kink, fight me, you can't have vampires without SOME kind of horniness, pran calling pat 'puppy' should be a religion, Explicit Sexual Content, Non-Explicit Sex, End OTW Racism, CHAPTER TWO TAGS:, Blood Kink, Pat Napat Jindapat Has a Praise Kink, he is a good puppy, Pain Kink, if you squint, Overstimulation, also if you squint
Summary: This is not how Pat expected his night to go, but he's not exactly complaining — not with how damn good Pran looks with wild red eyes.
Sink Your Teeth In (Bleed Me Dry)
Bad Buddy — Pat x Pran
MONTHS PASS IN A blur, and soon the remainder of the year has all passed them by. The trees are decorated with soft white lights, twinkling like secondary stars during the long night hours, a sure sign that the festive season lies just around the corner.
A mixture of long and irritating hours at work, meeting up with friends for nights out at any bar they deem comfortable enough, and, of course, Pat's favourite night of the week, just before the weekend truly begins. Pran pretends not to notice how antsy his engineer boyfriend gets around their respective lunch breaks on Friday afternoons; pretends not to feel the anxious excitement that thrums through Pat's veins as the hours tick down to sunset. What he also pretends not to notice, quite notably, is Pat's tendency towards begging Pran with his thoughts. Don't misunderstand, Pran honestly does understand that some things are easier thought about than spoken aloud, but what concerns him is the number of times a certain thought repeats on a nearly constant loop within Pat's chaotic mind.
Pat wants Pran to bite him.
The thing is, Pran isn't exactly against biting his quite enthusiastic boyfriend — and he makes sure to mark Pat up with normal teeth just as much as he does with his vampiric fangs. However, no matter how much he wishes it weren't true, it's not those particular thoughts that have Pran fearing for the sanity of both himself and Pat: it's the thoughts that lean more towards Pran biting Pat with the intent of Turning him. While they aren't as regular as they were in the weeks after Pat found out, they are still common enough to turn Pran's stomach — and he has not a clue how he's going to approach Pat about it. Truthfully, Pran isn't completely against Turning Pat, don't get him wrong, but he doesn't want to do it if Pat's reasoning has anything to do with feeling as though he's obligated — or if Pat is, in any way, feeling as though there's no other choice if he wants to stay with Pran.
Head spinning and his gums aching, Pran clutches at the bench as he tries his damndest to ignore his desire to feed, once again underestimating his strength. The benchtop crumbles under his hands, small clouds of dust floating up from the broken material before fading into the cool air of his and Pat's condo, and Pran curses colourfully as the crumbled granite falls between his feet. As he cleans it up, he hopes that Pat remains peacefully oblivious to the partially destroyed part of their benchtop, because Pran has no way of explaining why exactly he broke it — hell, he can't even make sense of it within his own mind right now, and he holds very little faith that he'll even know why later. In part, Pran places the blame on the sudden pangs of hunger that shouldn't be making themselves known right now of all times — he and Pat keep careful track of the vampire's feedings, and it's extremely rare that either of them forget or are running late, or, the gods forbid, wrong in calculating the next date.
Closing all of the blinds and flicking off all of the lights in the condo, his skin suddenly feeling as though it's on fire in the brighter than normal light, Pran has the feeling that something is seriously wrong with him. Not even years ago when he was still new to being a vampire did he experience this overly heightened level of sensitivity; where even the smallest amount of light burns, and the smallest sound makes his head pound with the tell-tale signs of a headache. Pran has had migraines before, back when he was still very much human, but not since that fateful night when the newbie vampire accidentally Turned him — and it's not as though he has anyone he can ask about his current symptoms. After all, that would be far too easy.
His gums ache and his mouth waters, both sets of fangs popping out and scratching open his lips, the guitarist's mouth feeling too full with the extra set of fangs he much prefers not to use when it comes to feeding on Pat. Throat burning, Pran growls out yet another curse and stumbles to their bedroom, squinting and hissing at the bright light when he unlocks his phone, desperation rising in his chest as his fingers fly across the screen, typing out a frantic message to Pat. He doesn't trust himself to call the drummer; to have much of a vocal grasp on any language that he knows, so a message will have to suffice — and he hopes that he can convey enough urgency in written text for Pat to come running.
por.pran: pat, something's wrong. need you home. now.
He doesn't have the patience to wait for a response, even when he sees the three bubbles at the bottom of the screen telling him that Pat is replying almost instantly, locking his phone and dropping it back onto the bedside cupboard. Hands knotting into his hair, Pran paces around the dark bedroom, anxiety and feral hunger thrumming beneath his skin, vision morphing into something almost identical to what one would see through night-vision goggles — but also slightly like infrared goggles. Ignoring the quite repetitive vibration of his phone, no doubt Pat's frantic and worried texts, Pran whines loudly in pain and sits in the corner of the bedroom, curling in on himself, hands over his ears and his eyes squeezed tightly shut, trying to block out every little bit of external information that he can.
And, it works, slightly — until Pat gets home.
"Pran!"
Pat's terrified voice rings out before he even gets the door open, keys rattling in the lock, and Pran's red eyes fly open, breathing in just so he can taste his boyfriend on his tongue before he sinks his teeth into the drummer's body. He waits for the door to close before using his inhuman speed and strength to pin Pat flush against the wall, Pran's face buried into the engineer's neck, panting breaths hot against the sensitive skin and his fangs sharp against the vulnerable skin, tongue moving to lave at his feeding ground. Pat swears and tries to reach for his boyfriend — to either hold him close or push him away in shock, Pat isn't entirely certain — only to belatedly realise that Pran has pinned his wrists to the wall at his back, the action which sends an unsettling chill down his spine right now.
"Pran, baby, talk to me. What's wrong?"
Pran doesn't have words to respond, and Pat's words are barely a registerable hum beneath his lover's thundering and mouth-watering pulse. Instinct takes over and he bites down, tightening his hold around Pat's wrists when the drummer jerks in shock, a warning growl rumbling in the vampire's chest as his brain screams that his prey is trying to get free. The blood on his tongue tastes different, tainted with an almost too addictive taste of fear, and Pran whines, pressing close to his boyfriend and silently praying to whatever higher power there is that he is not scaring the fuck out of Pat because he has lost control of himself. Pran's stomach almost revolts at the taste of Pat's blood, no matter how tantalising the idea of his prey being scared is to his inhuman nature, and he has to force himself away from Pat's throat.
Gently licking over the deeper than normal punctures, Pran pulls back and hesitantly looks up at Pat, not wanting to see the terrified expression on the engineer's face. Pat's eyes are screwed shut, lips pressed together in a firm line, and his head is pressed back against the wall, as if he had given up on fighting against Pran and submitted to his fate. Guilt swarms inside Pran and his body jerks with a sob, tears burning his eyes one second and then spilling down his face the next, clearing small streaks in the mess of blood — of Pat's blood — around his mouth, vision blurry when Pat's eyes fly open at the sound. Head falling against Pat's chest, mouth far enough away from Pat's throat so that the human feels more at ease, Pran's arms weakly fall to his sides, Pat's remaining frozen against the wall for a few frantic heartbeats before slowly wrapping around the vampire, hugging Pran tightly to his chest.
"Pran, baby..."
"I'm so sorry." Between the tears and two sets of elongated fangs, and where his face is buried in Pat's chest, Pran's voice comes out garbled and almost intelligible. "God, Pat, I am so fucking sorry..."
Pat feels his heart crack within his chest, hearing his boyfriend's voice sound so small and vulnerable. "It's okay, baby. It's okay. You just scared me."
"I don't know what's wrong with me... I'm just so hungry."
"Pran, baby, it's okay."
"It's not meant to be today. Is it? Did we mess up somewhere?"
Pat's eyes move to the calendar on their fridge, stomach dropping when he realises that Pran is right: his next feeding, if they've calculated correctly, shouldn't be for at least another week — but here the architect is, mouth covered in blood and crying against Pat's chest. "Baby, don't worry too much right now. We can sort it all out once you've fed properly. Alright?"
Pran whimpers, shaking his head. "No... Pat, I could really hurt you with how I am right now. I'm scared that...that I won't be able to stop myself this time."
"Pran, I am not going to let you suffer just because you're scared of hurting me."
"I should have gone out and..."
"Fuck, baby, no. Don't you ever think that. I know how much you hate having to depend on me for this, but I know that you hate feeding on someone else even more."
Weakly hitting his fist against Pat's chest, Pran laughs humorlessly through his tears. "If it means sparing you for becoming one of my victims, I will do it. If I end up killing you... I don't know how I will ever forgive myself."
Closing his eyes, Pat lets out a soft sigh, resigning himself to the fact that Pran isn't going to make any kind of move to take what he needs — not without a little force anyway. "That's enough of that. Okay? Come on, let's get comfortable so that I can help you, baby. Hmm?"
"Um."
In contrast to his earlier display of strength and speed, Pat finds Pran to be oddly slow and powerless as the drummer leads his boyfriend into their bedroom, and that little fact worries Pat more than he'll ever care to admit out loud. What also worries Pat is the fact that Pran has somehow reached the point where their regular feeding schedule no longer holds much truth; the point where Pran looks like he's barely a second from finding some random guy out on the streets and using him to satiate the hunger. The hunger he knows that Pran felt on that fateful night last year when Pat found out Pran was a vampire doesn't hold a candle's flame to the hunger he just got the briefest glimpse of. He knows that there must be some kind of trigger for Pran to have devolved so far, but Pat also knows that his boyfriend isn't in the right state of mind to answer questions — let alone ones revolving around his unsatiated hunger.
Pat's mind runs a million miles an hour, roughly drawing up a plan to get both of them comfortable before Pran slips back into his bloodlust and they're left cleaning up whatever mess ends up being made in their frenetic wake. A shower is at the top of the list, because Pat knows that he most definitely does not smell the best after spending the past few hours helping Korn and Wai do some small renovations on their bar — and because he recalls that Pran has said, on multiple occasions, that he prefers to wash up before feeding because they both tend to drift off to sleep afterwards. It makes sense, even to Pat's rather absent mind. The human doesn't know how much blood Pran takes from his body, but it's enough for him to slip into a state of unconsciousness even before the vampire is finished — and he has a feeling that, once Pran has satiated his gnawing hunger, his boyfriend would feel hazy and full and content enough to fall asleep as well.
He doesn't get much of a chance at stripping off much more than his shirt out of his no doubt bar-smelling clothes before Pran regains his wits — or loses them again, Pat thinks dryly — and shoves the drummer onto their bed, moving in the blink of an eye to pin the taller boy down, eyes glowing red in the darkness of their bedroom. Pat's stomach fills with heat as he comprehends that Pran is pinning him down and looking at him with such an animalistic hunger that he may well say it's predatory, the engineer's heart beating faster and faster within his chest at every passing second. He has to swallow down on the whine of disapproval that rises in his throat when Pran shifts, however briefly loosening his hold on the older's wrists, but he knows that the vampire heard its beginnings — if the dark smirk on his boyfriend's face is anything to go by.
"Needy puppy," Pran teases as he leans down, his voice deep and raspy beside Pat's ear, cool breath washing across Pat's burning skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. He enjoys the shiver that wracks his boyfriend's body, a thrill of electric delight zipping through his veins. "You thought you were the one in control, did you? Sorry to disappoint, puppy."
Pat squeezes his eyes shut and curses softly, once again hating how Pran can read his mind. He doesn't know how he keeps forgetting that crucial little fact, especially since Pran likes to tease the drummer about his less than appropriate — or absolutely ridiculous — thoughts every single day.
"You smell so fucking good, puppy," Pran breathes against Pat's throat, nose pressed to the skin as he inhales, a low and pleased growl rumbling in his chest. "I picked a good feeder... No one else tastes so good, and no one else satisfies me like you do."
This time Pat has no chance in stopping the high-pitched whine that leaves him, body arching up off the bed to push against Pran. They have long since discovered that Pat gets off on being reduced to the role of Pran's "feeder" or "blood bag" — and Pran is in no way against playing around with that little fact whenever he so pleases, but he tends to save it for the days where he's feeling particularly mean and hungry. Hell, Pat swears that there was even one time where Pran called the drummer his "victim," but he can't be too certain because, after that, the world went silent and white. And Pat doesn't exactly have the courage to ask Pran if that is what he was called, because that name seems to be just that little bit too embarrassing for him to admit to liking.
Pran chuckles softly and Pat lets out a sharp gasp as fangs dig into his throat, this time much more gentle in comparison to the almost too feral bite earlier. The taste of fear is gone, replaced by a certain tang of something far more addictive than the fear, and it makes Pran want to consume. Beneath his boyfriend, Pat's eyes close and he fully submits to the sensation of Pran's teeth in his neck and Pran's body pinning him down, cool and solid against his own burning body. He is slightly, but not really, surprised by the thought that crosses his mind right then and there: the thought that he could die with the love of his life literally draining the life from his body, and that he wouldn't have a single regret. They are both more than aware of the fact that Pat would do anything for Pran, but even Pat himself has never quite realised that he would die for Pran if that's what it meant for Pran to be safe; to have his hunger satiated.
A sharp growl sounds and Pat feels Pran's teeth dig just that little bit deeper into his body, the only warning that he will get from his boyfriend before the vampire loses his temper at the human once again. It is in no way uncommon for Pat's thoughts to get out of hand during a feeding, but there are certain thoughts that Pran can't handle hearing at any stage — no matter whether they're in this position where Pat seems to lose all sense of control over his racing thoughts; where he loses every single barrier he throws up during the average day to keep himself from worrying or irritating Pran.
Rolling his hips down, Pran's action rips a strangled moan from Pat, the taller male's hands twitching where they are still pinned above their heads, wanting, desperately, to hold Pran even closer. Humming against Pat's throat, Pran slowly releases Pat's wrists, allowing his boyfriend the opportunity to latch on without a hint of remorse: left hand knotting into Pran's hair, and his right hand tightly gripping onto Pran's hip. Pat has never wanted Pran to be far away from him in any sense, and, no matter how close they are during these times, Pat cannot help but feel that Pran is still so far away from him. He needs... Oh, how he needs.
"Pran, baby..." Pat wiggles beneath his boyfriend, a pleading edge to his voice. "Please..."
A shiver runs down Pran's spine, fangs retracting and his tongue slipping out to lick over the punctures. "What do you need, puppy?"
"Need you."
"You have me. Always." He smiles at the irritated groan Pat lets out. "I know, I know. How do you need me today, puppy? Hmm? Do you want me to fuck you? Or do you want to have a go?"
Pat curses at the sinful thoughts that his mind conjures up at Pran's easily spoken words; the images of their bodies naked, sweaty, and bloody, moving together, Pran's eyes burning red and his teeth ready to bite at a moment's notice. "Baby..."
"Oh, puppy... You can't decide. You want everything, don't you?"
His head is far too fuzzy to comprehend much of what follows, only that Pran uses his inhuman speed as a borderline unfair advantage to strip both himself and Pat of their clothes — but that's not to say that the speed at which Pat's clothes are ripped off is anything but downright arousing. It feels like hours, feeling his boyfriend's fingers inside his body, teasing with simple grazes against his sensitive insides, but it also feels like mere seconds. He swears that one moment it feels as though he may very well combust with how full he feels; how complete and beloved Pran makes him feel, and then there's a sudden and aching emptiness that drags a mournful whine from his throat. Of course, Pat should now know well enough that, when Pran wants, the human is not left aching for what he desires for any length of time.
A high-pitched moan is punched from Pat as Pran slides home, the guitarist's broad and plush back feeling like putty beneath Pat's harsh hands, fingernails no doubt digging painfully into skin — but Pran doesn't say anything to discourage his boyfriend. Humming softly, Pran presses gentle kisses along Pat's shoulder, slowly moving his way along the tanned skin until he reaches Pat's parted lips, bitten red and coated in a slick layer of spit; a feast laid out right before Pran's eyes. One of Pat's hands tangles into the vampire's hair, dragging him down into a kiss that starts out slow and languid, but quickly devolves into something far more sinful and messy, tongues licking and teeth nipping skin hard enough to draw forth blood.
Pat's blood tastes like heaven to Pran, in a strange kind of way, and he once again accepts the fact that there will never be another's blood that can satisfy him in the way that his lover's can. Whining at the taste of the vampire's blood, Pat suckles on Pran's bottom lip, chasing more than he's been given, too far gone in his haze of desire to realise the mistake he's made. A sound akin to a growling purr rumbles in Pran's chest, and he's helpless in keeping his hips still, pulling out far enough that Pat instinctively tightens around him, only to thrust back in, Pat's mouth going slack and freeing Pran's lip, a drawn-out whimpering moan leaving Pat. Eyes burning red, Pran stares down at his boyfriend, almost salivating at the sight Pat makes, skin flushed red and covered in the slightest sheen of sweat — not to forget in mentioning the slightly tacky red blood laying forgotten at his throat.
Stifling a growl, Pran rolls his hips into Pat's desperate body, feeling every tiny muscle in the human's body contract and cling to him, Pat's hands seeming to no longer have any strength where they're twitching weakly against Pran's body. The one on Pran's head snags on sweaty hair, the slight pinpricks of pain sending warm chills careening down Pran's spine, sparks burning within the liquid heat of his stomach. The sensation weakens his restraint, head dropping forward into the crook of Pat's neck, the low growl he just fought back makes itself known, muffled against Pat's throat, hands fisting in the bed sheets as his hazy minded boyfriend moves beneath Pran, chasing friction and pleasure. Feeling slightly mean, Pran holds himself completely still, using every shred of control to not fuck into Pat's far too willing body — and he feels his gums begin to ache, hunger making itself known once more.
"Baby... Please..."
Pran laughs deliriously against Pat's skin. "You smell so good, puppy... I want you. I want to devour you until there's nothing left — and you'd let me. Wouldn't you? You would let me take all of you..."
Pat whines, tears stinging his eyes when one of Pran's hands pins his hips down. "Please..."
"You always beg so fucking prettily..." Pran's tongue swipes across Pat's throat, cleaning up the tacky blood, and he grins at the way Pat shivers beneath him. "Have you been a good puppy for me?"
"Been so good for you, baby. Always a good puppy for you."
Pat's almost nonsensical words are tinged with insanity and pure desperation, and he honestly doesn't give a damn how pathetic he may well sound right now. Paired with the tears of frustration burning in his eyes and the odd tingle in his body telling of his desperate need for stimulation, Pat doesn't have a care in the world. All he wants — all he fucking needs — is for Pran to have even the slightest amount of mercy and—
"I know you are."
Pran starts to move again, giving Pat what he so desperately desires, and the vampire's sensitive ears are blessed with musical high-pitched whines, begging whimpers, and unrestrained moans leaving the bitten and saliva-slick lips of his high-strung and downright desperate boyfriend. Bloodlust rising alongside lust, Pran's lips brush against Pat's throat as they part, fangs descending and instantly breaking skin, sinking in deep and filling his mouth with the heady taste of Pat's blood, a rumbling moan resonating in his chest at the initial taste. He loves his boyfriend's blood all the time, but Pran has long since discovered that it is especially addictive and delicious when Pat is essentially getting fucked into oblivion; when there is nary a thought except pleasure and wordless begging in his generally chaotic head.
With one hand on Pat's hip, restricting the human only slightly in his movements, and the other tangled into Pat's hair, pulling just enough for the engineer's back to arch off the bed, Pran gives up all sense of control. His hips are moving faster than he's ever allowed them before, and that means they're sure enough to leave behind some interesting bruises for the odd couple to find decorating Pat's easily bruised body come morning light. Suckling gently at Pat's throat, hungrily drawing out more blood, Pran doesn't expect the loud, almost deranged moan that escapes Pat's lips. The older male's hand tightens to the point of what should be genuine pain in Pran's hair, pulling without restraint, but not so much that he's trying to pull Pran away from his feast.
Still, Pran gently pulls his fangs from Pat's neck and slows his hips, drawing a disapproving whine from Pat, lips brushing the latter's skin as he speaks. "Pat, are you okay? Did I hurt you?"
Pat trembles at the growling rasp of Pran's voice. "No. Don't stop... Pran, baby, please..."
"Do you want me to be rough? Is that it? Do you want me to use you?"
A desperate, almost inhuman sound leaves Pat, the human fighting against the bruising hold on his hip to rut up against Pran, chasing the friction he has once again been denied. "Please... I'm your puppy... All yours, baby..."
The sound makes Pran shudder and smile darkly. "How can I deny you anything, hmm?"
"Pra—"
Pran's name leaving Pat's lips turns into a wordless scream in an instant, the vampire sinking his teeth back into Pat's neck and his thrusts starting anew, leaving Pat to scramble for purchase. The hand in Pran's hair yanks harder as Pat's wordless pleas for more grow both in number and in volume, and Pat's free hand scratches down Pran's back, his longer than usual nails tearing open Pran's skin, small beads of blood bubbling free. Growling against Pat's throat, the pain along his back urges Pran on, using the bruising hold he has on Pat's hip to put more force behind the willing man's body as Pat tries to meet Pran thrust for thrust. The sweat and smeared blood make it hard for Pran to keep a proper grip on the engineer's reddened hip, but there is no form of complaint coming from Pat.
Hard and fast is the surefire way into sending Pat hurtling over the edge, and Pran craves feeling his boyfriend fall apart around him just as much as Pran craves consuming all that he can from the human. Pat downright wails, tightening so much around Pran that the vampire is forced to stillness, lest he seriously hurt his fragile boyfriend. Pran can feel that Pat is coming even before the tell-tale warmth spills between their bodies, and the sensation is almost enough for Pran to bury himself further into Pat and give in himself, but he is curious to see just how far into overstimulation he can push Pat today before it becomes too much. Giving an experimental roll of his hips, Pat whines softly but doesn't protest — if anything, his hips twitch up to meet Pran's, seeming to want all that he can get.
Licking over the wounds on Pat's throat, Pran gently shakes off his boyfriend's limp hand from his head and huffs fondly, gently brushing back Pat's sweaty fringe from his face, an adoring smile curling up Pran's lips at the blissed-out expression Pat is wearing. He doesn't move, just hovers above Pat and waits for his muscled boyfriend to return to their relative plane of existence, peppering Pat's sweaty face with small kisses, softly whispering out apologies with each kiss. Pat weakly slaps his hand against Pran's chest once his white-noise brain registers the whispered apologies, eyes focusing on Pran as the human lets out a grunt of annoyance, because, really, he begged Pran for this, so the vampire has nothing to apologise for.
"Pran, why are you still hard?"
Laughing, Pran drops his forehead onto Pat's chest. "I don't want to hurt you. It'll be—"
Pat groans, this time with anger. "Pran, my Pran, you won't hurt me. It's not the first time we've—"
"Maybe not, but it's the first time—"
"Just fuck me! You know I like it!"
Pran snarls in irritation, eyes burning red as he glares up from Pat's chest, deciding that it's better to have this argument after he has fucked Pat senseless a second time. Regaining his speed and power from before, Pat's head is thrown back into the pillow, eyes wide and his body zipping with delicious overstimulation, a long whine leaving his lips, quickly swallowed by Pran's lips claiming his. Pat's hands knot into the vampire's hair, holding Pran close as the drummer licks and sucks and bites at Pran's bloody lips, reclaiming his own blood and in search of Pran's blood. Fangs in the downright sinful and filthy kiss means that their lips are scratched open, blood mingling with spit, the taste making Pat moan and claim all that he can, Pran growling on instinct and kissing harder, fighting Pat for the blood.
Pat's dull, human teeth sinking harshly enough into Pran's bottom lip to draw blood is enough for the vampire to tip over the edge, spilling inside Pat just like the human wants, both of the males still fighting for who gets the blood, breathing harshly and their hearts thundering away in their chests. Yanking harshly on Pran's hair, Pat forces their mouths apart and sucks in deep breaths, head feeling light and his vision dotted with black spots. Realising that he has fucked up by forgetting that Pat needs to breathe, Pran curses and gently pulls Pat up so that they're sitting, gingerly holding his shaking — fragile, human — boyfriend, the red fading from his eyes as he frantically worries over Pat.
"I'm okay, baby," Pat murmurs, pushing Pran's sweaty fringe out of his eyes. "We both forgot that I need to breathe for a second. I'm okay."
Pran laughs deliriously, forehead resting against Pat's. "Of all the ways I'm worried about hurting you, it ends up being fucking lack of air."
Pat is silent for a moment, but he knows that Pran can hear his thoughts. "Serious question, baby: are you okay? Coming home and seeing you like that... What happened?"
"I don't know, honestly," Pran breathes, an uncomfortable feeling settling heavily atop his chest. "And, because I don't know what it is, that means I don't know how to deal with it; how to stop if from—"
"Pran." Pat holds the vampire's face in his hands, smiling reassuringly at the supernatural being. "I would tell you to slow down and breathe, but, you know, you don't need to breathe."
Pran huffs out a laugh. "Um. I'm scared that this will happen again, and that you won't get here in time — or that you will be here, and I won't be able to control myself. Pat, this has never happened before..."
"We will figure it out. Like we do with everything else, my Pran." Pat raises his fist. "Deal?"
Pran eyes the offered fist, smiling slightly at his boyfriend. "Deal."