Zitao thinks it’s ridiculous, how entertainment culture affects people’s perspective. One hit series about a ridiculously hot older-than-your-grandpa blood brunette and teenage girls all over the world suddenly find the idea of being bitten by a vampire very appealing. Oh, and he sparkles under the sunlight. Very festive.

Personally, he thinks it’s a little bit creepy. Not that he has anything against it. It’s all about preferences, really.

Then again, considering his predicament, he is not one to judge.

The door to his bedroom creaks open - he should really fix that damned door, and reveals the tall, lanky frame of his boyfriend. Scratching his tank covered torso, Yifan strolls through the living room to reach the kitchen. Zitao was already perched on the counter, drinking lukewarm milk tea. He feels a little bit offended when Yifan passes through him without as much as a good morning peck.

Well, Yifan is always the very definition of a dazed sloth when he just woke up, so Zitao swallowed his irritation.

He watches as Yifan easily reaches the uppermost kitchen cabinet and grabs for his tea bags. Yifan always buys that particular brand, the kind that tastes too strong for mornings and turns water into a bleak dark brown color instead of the sparkling golden brown that Zitao prefers. The younger man curls his mouth in distaste, but he knows that Yifan is incapable of tasting anything but tea, so he lets it slide.

(“I don’t really taste anything, when eating human food,” Yifan admits one day while they were out for a date in Zitao’s favorite coffee shop.

Zitao stares at Yifan’s half full plate of molten chocolate cake, face scandalized. “What a waste of good food!” He exclaims, and then as he realizes something, his eyes soften, “Then... You can’t taste anything at all? Of all the great treats in the world and you can’t actually enjoy them...”

The way Zitao trails off at the end and puts on a sad face makes Yifan’s heart constricts. This boy with eyes like the summer and heart as tender as earth after the rain always leaves him aching to touch, hold, protect. His precious, precious boy.

He grins instead, trying to lighten up the mood by pinching the younger’s nose.

“‘S not that bad, I’m already used to it. Besides,” he lets his sentence hang, scooping a piece of chocolate cake with his spoon and lowering his voice for dramatic effect, “if I want anything sweet, I can always go straight for your neck,” he drawls.

Yifan is pulling the y, dangerous, blood-hungry vampire card and Zitao’s pulse quickens. The tension in the air is palpable, but before any of them can do anything about it, a quiet dlop breaks the spell. A piece of molten chocolate cake that was innocently perched on Yifan’s spoon lands somewhere on the older man’s lap, no doubt smearing his brand new designer jeans.

“! ing... This is gonna stain!” He whines.

Zitao grimaces, already used to Yifan’s antics. He rummages through his bag for wet wipes and offers it to the other man.

“Here, you big dolt,” he says, the insult sounding more like a term of endearment. Yifan accepts the wet wipes gratefully and sends him a sheepish smile.)

Yifan yawns again, Zitao notes with amusement, a fond smile curling his lips. He’s currently putting sugar inside his tea, letting the tea bag remain inside the hot water to steep. Only then does he realize his boyfriend’s eyes on him, and he grins lazily.

“Baby,” he calls, taking his cup and sitting in front of Zitao. One large hand reaches to ruffle through blond locks and Zitao preens under the attention, closing his eyes to the feeling of Yifan’s thumb drawing circles on his cheeks.

He tilts his face forwards, silently asking to be kissed, and Yifan happily indulges him. They kiss just like that - slow and lazy, movement languid with the kitchen counter separating them. As Yifan on his bottom lip, Zitao makes a little whine, wanting desperately for the object separating them to disappear and touch Yifan, feel his unnaturally cold skin. But Yifan seems content to keep the snail pace, mouth never rough nor demanding, just subtly empowering, and Zitao kind of hates that even though he doesn’t get what he wants, Yifan’s kisses still manages to coax these breathless, satisfied noises out of him.

When they part for air, Zitao whispers, “You give the best morning kisses, love.”

He hears Yifan scoff, “Don’t compare me to anyone else.”

Zitao smiles at him in a teasing manner, knowing how much of a possessive lover Yifan could turn to be under the right circumstances. He remembers warning Sehun beforehand about how his boyfriend could take their mandatory movie night cuddles the wrong way. Sehun had merely raised his eyebrow, then slapped Yifan on the shoulder when he came to pick Zitao up from the younger’s apartment.

“Don’t worry,” he had said, “cuddle sessions won’t get me suddenly interested in Zitao’s . I like my boyfriend’s too much.”

Zitao almost smacked him for his snark. The brat’s lucky he’s Zitao’s favorite didi.

Zitao snorts as he recalls the event, making Yifan bump his nose to gain his attention, “What is it?” He whispers.

“Nothin’” Zitao answers, and then makes grabby hands at his boyfriend, “come cuddle on the couch.”

Yifan grins and nods, circling around the counter to pick Zitao up. The younger man hugs his broad shoulders and puts his legs around his torso, hanging onto Yifan like a baby monkey. The way Yifan can hold his weight with zero difficulty almost makes him purr. Three cheers for vampire super strength.

As they settle on the couch, Zitao immediately crawls to rest his head on the arm rest and stretches his long legs on Yifan’s lap. On autopilot, Yifan begins to knead on his calf, feeling for dislocated muscles.

“Mmm, that feels nice,” Zitao sighs, enjoying the treatment, “Wushu practice has been hell lately.”

“Poor baby,” Yifan coos, diligent fingers massaging Zitao’s tense muscles, “it’s fortunate you have your vampire servant here to cater to your every need, right?”

Zitao shoots a toothy grin his way, “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Yifan sends him a gummy smile in response, and Zitao gulps as his mind inevitably supplies the image of elongated fangs protruding from those gums, sharp and lethal. He remembers begging for Yifan to bite him just the night before, on the throes of and needing that one little push to send him careening towards the edge. Knowing that the feeling of Yifan ravenously on his blood will do the job.

He suddenly feels hot under the collar and curses his bodily reaction to that particular memory.

It’s like a counterpart of bloodlust, this urge he feels building inside him. It scares him a bit, to be honest, this overwhelming desire to be Yifan’s blood slave. He likes it too much, the pain as his flesh tears under Yifan’s fangs, the feeling of his blood leaving his body with each powerful , only to flow down Yifan’s throat to become his life source. Yifan is not quite alive anymore, but Zitao’s blood sustains him, and the idea of it excites the younger for incomprehensible reasons.

“Gege,” he says, knowing fully well of the effect of that particular term on Yifan, “wanna feed again?” With that, he parts his legs just slightly to expose the skin of his thighs under threadbare shorts, veins visible under thin skin. Yifan’s favorite spot to feed. He notes how the vampire’s eyes strays to that particular expanse of skin and quickly straddles the vampire’s lap to prevent him from fleeing. He loves how Yifan’s eyes glaze over as he stares unabashedly at Zitao’s tight, muscled body.

He looks beautiful like this, Zitao thinks, strangely malleable even in his cold and hard body. To be honest, Zitao feels bad, feels like he’s taking advantage of Yifan at his most compliant, when the vampire’s vulnerable with sleep and affection for Zitao. It makes him shiver, the kind of power he holds over this ancient, deadly creature.

“Tao,” Yifan forces out, his voice strains as he gradually loses self-control, “don’t tempt me. I just fed from you last night,” he grips Zitao’s waist tight and in a breath. “It could be bad for your health if I take more.”

“Can take it, ge, I can take it,” he breathes out, rocking on top of Yifan and earning a halfhearted slap on his wrist. As he peers into Yifan’s eyes and sees the hunger lurking under their depth, he knows he has won. He may not have Yifan’s ability of picking up his scent, or to pinpoint the beat of his pulse, but he knows this side of his boyfriend fairly well. He just needs one more incentive.

“Come on, ge,” he whimpers, putting himself on display by stretching his neck, his jugular bobbing as he speaks, “you can take my neck, please, just...” he trails off, desperation tinting his tone.

As much as Yifan likes feeding from his thighs, the give of his honeyed flesh under his fangs and the clench of muscles to accommodate the pain, he also likes the idea of marking Zitao’s neck. That, and the fact that feeding from the neck allows him to embrace the younger, fully envelop him in his arms as Zitao falls apart with too much pleasure and pain. Zitao knows this. He knows Yifan the best.

A low growl is his only warning before Yifan leans forward and tilts his head to the side to expose his pulse point. As Yifan’s fangs pierce his skin, he closes his eyes in delight.