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Eddie was hungry.
It wasn't the same kind of hunger as before. Before, when being hungry was just a gurgling of acid in his stomach and a hankering for greasy food. Before, when he could order an extra large, extra cheese, twice-cooked pepperoni pizza with breadsticks and a six-pack of beer and stuff himself until he regretted every life choice leading up to that moment. Before, when he could still feel full and satisfied.
Eddie didn't know what it felt like to be full anymore.
This hunger was a craving that was never satisfied. An urge. All-encompassing and endless. He could fill his stomach to bursting and never sate the wanting. This hunger didn't just make him want to eat—he wanted to hunt. There was a terrifying, predatory thing inside him now that wanted the chase almost more than the meal itself. When he was very hungry his instincts kicked into overdrive and it was impossible not to notice all the warm bodies around him, not to smell the blood in their veins or hear their beating hearts. When he was very hungry his fangs itched to tear into flesh.
Eddie was hungry more often than not, but he had yet to give into those predatory urges because, frankly, they scared him.
He'd been peckish for about a week now but nothing very serious. The occasional, annoying twist of pain in his stomach and the tingling of cold in his fingers and toes, both easily ignored. Eddie could have eaten at any point, but he always pushed it as long as he could in an attempt to sort of train his hunger. To learn more control. A few years into it now and he could go much longer between feedings than he used to. Whether that was because he got better at controlling the hunger or whether he got better at ignoring it, Eddie couldn't say. He didn't know if it even mattered if the results were the same.
"You look like shit." The voice snapped Eddie out of his thoughts, and he wasn't surprised to find George staring at him from his usual spot at the bar.
George was a friend of his or, well, more like an acquaintance. A guy he knew? A regular at the club where Eddie bartended, and a fellow vampire. He looked to be in his late forties or maybe older, with partially grayed hair that used to be sandy in another lifetime and unnerving blue eyes. One would think he would stick out like a sore thumb amongst the younger demographic at the dance club, but George had the slightly eerie ability to blend into any crowd. Like he was using some kind of vampire camouflage mind trick that Eddie was itching to ask about. George also had an accent, something eastern European maybe. The kind of accent that made Eddie think George wasn't the man's real name, but what vampire would ever choose a name like George? Everyone was too intimidated by said vampire to ask him about it, and that included Eddie, so no one knew. The other vampire was nice enough to make idle conversation with during the occasional lull in business, but he also had a wildness behind his eyes that Eddie could only aspire to.
One day he hoped to be as casually crazy as George.
"Happy to see you too," Eddie deadpanned in response. He was in the middle of mixing a drink for a different customer, and he tossed a wide-eyed 'are you hearing this?' look at his nearby coworker. She just laughed at him and ran off to the other side of the bar to keep serving the growing crowd. It was still early in the night, but it was Friday and the club was busy.
If the other vampire was put off by Eddie's sarcasm, he showed no evidence of it. "When's the last time you fed yourself, kid?"
"I don't know, George." Eddie bristled. "When's the last time you minded your—"
His words were cut off by the shattering of glass at the other end of the bar and a rise of cheers as the nearby patrons all clapped like dickheads at his coworker's fumble.
"Ow, fuck." He heard her hissed curse only a split second before the smell of her blood hit him like a truck and almost made him drop his own glass. He felt the slick slide of his fangs dropping lower against his will and the ache of venom sacs swelling up under his sinuses. Basically the vampire equivalent of popping a boner like he was back in middle school gym class.
Eddie forced a deep breath to try and calm his urges, but that flooded his senses with the sweet smell of blood, so he held his breath instead. His coworker was wrapping her cut hand up in a bar towel while sweeping glass into a pile with the edge of her booted foot.
"Yeah, yeah, fuck off," he heard her say to the clapping people, annoyed but laughing. The rest of her words were being drowned out by the pounding of her heartbeat in Eddie's ears. It pumped fast from adrenaline but was gradually slowing again as she got things under control. There were heartbeats all around him, flooding in now that he was paying attention. So many heartbeats. The club was packed and his predatory instincts were kicking into high gear. He needed to get his shit together and fast.
Eddie gulped, realizing he was still holding a drink in his hand and the customer in front of him was eyeing him impatiently. With shaking hands he set the drink on the bar and numbly accepted cash in exchange. He couldn't remember if he said thanks or not, but the girl had already disappeared back into the crowd so it hardly mattered. He sent one more sideways glance in the direction of his coworker and then turned in the opposite direction to drop the cash into the register. It got a bit easier once he was further away and she was out of his immediate sight.
"You've been on animal blood, haven't you?"
Eddie slammed the cash register closed a bit harder than necessary. "Maybe? So what?" His stubborn reply came out harsher than he'd intended but George remained unfazed. Eddie ran his tongue over his teeth and found his fangs had receded again and the ache in his face was mostly gone as well. "It doesn't matter. I'm good."
"You reek of cattle," George told him, always blunt, his icy eyes staring into Eddie's.
"What the fuck? Really?"
George just gave a dismissive shrug. "Can't sustain yourself on butcher's leftovers, you know."
"I've been fine so far," Eddie huffed, feeling defensive.
"Sure, maybe, but it won't last. You need human blood sometimes or you get weak. Get hungry faster. Lose your abilities. Can't hunt properly." George had been counting all of the symptoms off on the fingers of one hand. When he only had one finger left, he trailed off trying to think of one last thing and after a moment he just finished with, "get sad," and a little wave of all five fingers. The entire time George hadn't even looked around to make sure no one was overhearing them in the crowded club. Either he already knew or he didn't care.
"That's not—" Eddie did glance around and then leaned in a bit closer so he could talk lower. "That's not really my thing. You know, hunting." He winced at saying the word as if it would burn him.
Another shrug. "So get a donor." As if it was that obvious. That easy.
Eddie wrinkled his nose in distaste. 'Donor' was the nice term for humans that let vampires feed off of them for cash. Essentially prostitution with blood instead of sex—although many donors did both. Eddie had never partaken in their services, and the ones he'd seen were never very healthy. They were pale and often weak, physically dirty from the grime of living in unsavory conditions and blood dirty with drugs, disease, or both. He'd rather keep paying the local butcher for buckets of cow blood even if it was to his detriment.
"Oh, don't give me that face," George scolded him with a wave of his hand. "I know what you're thinking and they're not all like that. I have one that keeps clean and takes good care of himself. Pretty, too. You'll like him."
"Pretty?" Eddie scoffed. "What does that have to do with it?"
George leveled his all-too-knowing gaze on Eddie, eyebrow lifting and lips twitching at the corners. "Guess you'll have to find out, kid. Go get a pen."
Eddie sighed, chewing his lips in a moment of indecision, rings tapping against the edge of the bar. This felt like a big thing. A big change. Like if he did this then there would be no going back and he didn't know how to feel about it. Could he limit himself to visiting a donor every once in a while? Surely only once or twice a year was doable. Surely he could go back to cow blood the majority of the time even after tasting human blood for the first time. How different could they be?
Deep down Eddie knew from smell alone just how different they were, but he didn't want to think about it.
"Do I really smell like cows?" he finally asked George, grimacing.
"Yeah." George nodded in affirmation, and then a laugh spilled out of him that would make Vincent Price proud. "Farm fresh!"
"Christ," Eddie cursed and grudgingly started looking for a pen.
That was how, two days later, Eddie found himself taking the train to a neighborhood that looked far too normal for what he was there to do.
It had been dark for hours at this point and the streets were fairly quiet. There had been rain earlier in the night, but the clouds had since cleared, leaving the ground wet with moisture that would freeze by morning and cling to every surface. Eddie could tell it was cold out—he could smell the stinging frost in the air—but to him it was tepid at best.
When he was this hungry the chill he felt came from deep within. It settled into his bones, stiffened his joints and muscles, turned his lips, fingers, and toes purple. Sometimes, when he was very hungry, too hungry, he shivered uncontrollably from the cold until he could eat again because that was the only way to warm himself—from the inside out. Usually it was the cold that had Eddie finally feeding himself. He'd always hated being cold. So nights like these—mild fall nights just after a rain and just before a freeze—felt downright cozy to him. He was hungry, but not that hungry.
He certainly wasn't dressed for the cold by human standards. Black, straight leg jeans shoved into the top of his well-worn Docs and a Megadeth shirt with a red plaid button down under a faded jean jacket. He wore the jacket for the sake of appearances and not because it would do anything to help him feel warm. His hair curtained his face in dark curls as he walked with eyes on the sidewalk just ahead of his feet, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. His hair was too long at the moment, bangs always getting into his eyes, but Eddie had been so surprised that his hair kept growing at all after being turned that he just let it go. It was very slow, like the rest of his bodily functions, but it had grown almost two inches in as many years since becoming a vampire.
Several things had surprised him about being a vampire beyond the initial holy shit, vampires are real surprise. Which, let's not kid ourselves here, had been a major surprise.
He found he still had a heartbeat of his own, although it was very slow and faint. His lungs still worked, though he didn't seem to really need them, and breathing took extra effort as if the tissue were half solidified. His stomach worked, but so slowly that any food and drink he consumed would rot or ferment inside of him before it had the chance to digest. Eddie had quickly decided that eating like a normal human was not worth the mess it made.
Drinking blood, heightened senses, and avoiding the sun had all been more or less accurate to what Eddie expected. His fangs were more than just extra sharp but otherwise average-sized canines like Eddie saw in most movies. Fully extended, they were nearly an inch long (obviously he'd measured) and curved inward just slightly. The weirdest discovery had come in the form of what were apparently venom glands attached to his fangs like a snake. When they swelled with venom his face ached like he had a bad sinus infection. The fluid they produced, as far as Eddie could tell, did something to keep blood flowing from any bite he caused.
The walk from the train station wasn't a long one. In theory. The problem was that Eddie only had a general idea of where he was headed and he was just kind of…hoping the rest of the blanks would fill themselves in along the way.
George had told him to grab a pen, but apparently not a single person in the club had a pen on hand or even a damn piece of paper. Instead, the name and address was written on the inside of his forearm in eyeliner pencil, because apparently every person at the club had one of those handy. It had seemed like a good idea at the time to scrawl the very important information on his arm for safe-keeping, but he had almost immediately smeared it when washing the sticky mess of splattered booze and mixers from his hands at the end of his shift.
So he was pretty sure the street was right, but the house number? That was still up in the air. Eddie was also pretty sure the name scrawled on his arm was meant to start with an S, but the longer he stared at the smudge of makeup the less like an actual name it looked. Was it Stan? No, maybe Shawn. Anyway, the name itself didn't seem as important as the other instructions George had given him.
"Look for blue lights," the older vampire had said. "If they're on, you head up the side stairs."
"Is there, like…a code I should use? Or a secret knock or handshake or something?" Eddie had asked, and George had snorted at him.
"No, kid. Just say you saw his lights and that I sent you. You don't have to make this weird."
The joke was on George there, because Eddie made most things weird.
A large dog started barking at him from one yard, bringing Eddie back to the present. The animal ran toward him aggressively and leapt at the fence, panting and snarling. Eddie could smell the rank of its breath and the stink of wet fur, but underneath all that was the smell of its blood. It was rushing fast in the dog's veins with the pounding of its heart, adrenaline pumping as the animal bravely defended its home. Eddie could smell its fear and it sent a sickening thrill up his spine.
He bared his fangs, tossing a sudden snarl of his own back at the dog. It caused the animal's hackles to raise, but its barking faltered and it backed away from the fence. In a hurry to put some distance between them, Eddie kept walking without looking back again, and the dog let him go without another sound.
He used to like dogs, but most of them wanted nothing to do with him now.
Eddie was also definitely on the wrong side of too hungry if the thought of biting into an angry dog was making his fangs itch. He picked up his pace for the last block he still needed to walk, hoping like hell this place would be easy to find.
Thankfully, he spotted the blue light he was looking for as soon as he turned the final corner.
One of the front second-story windows had a single string of blue Christmas lights framing it. It was subtle for sure—no one passing by would think twice about a few colorful lights in a window. But looking around the rest of the houses on the street, Eddie didn't see any other blue lights or lights of any unusual color at all, so this had to be it. Either that or he was about to have a really awkward conversation with some random Joe Shmoe about their early Christmas lights.
Eddie followed the path to the side of the building and climbed the set of stairs he'd been told about. There were no other indications that this apartment was unusual. No signs or any more blue lights. There wasn't even a welcome mat which seemed, well…distinctly unwelcoming. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but a little secret symbol carved above the door would have been nice at the very least.
He frowned at the totally nondescript door for a moment. He thought about how easy it would be to just turn around and walk away, find another way to feed himself that night, but a sudden sharp pang of hunger was apparently all the motivation he needed because he was knocking before his brain had even registered what he was doing.
His ringed knuckles rapped three times on the wood, and then Eddie took a step back from the door so he wasn't crowding it. He took a last glance at the name written on his arm while he waited—not that it helped—then shoved both hands back into his pockets, foot tapping restlessly.
Eddie didn't have to wait very long at all before he heard movement inside the apartment and shuffling feet behind the door. A shadow crossed the peephole a moment before locks were tumbling open, followed by the door opening just wide enough for a face to pop out.
A very familiar face that had Eddie's guts twisting up for an entirely different reason than hunger.
Oh, shit. Steve. The name on his arm was Steve.
Steve fucking Harrington was now peering dark, umber brown eyes out at him. Looking at him with a critical gaze and with plump lips set in a stony line.
Eddie felt like he was frozen in place, probably gaping like a fish at the man he knew from high school of all places. The golden boy of Hawkins High and asshole jock, who Eddie may or may not have had a few salacious daydreams about back in the day. He wasn't ashamed about it. Steve had been hot in high school, and Eddie couldn't see much of him now, but it seemed like the man was still very much so. Pretty, George had said, and George fucking knew how to pick them apparently. Steve's hair was longer now, falling in thick waves to just under his jawline, but the features underneath were still exactly as Eddie remembered them.
Eddie was waiting for any hint of recognition on Steve's part, but the man leaned a bit further out of the door to glance back down the stairs, and then his gaze darted back to Eddie and no such recognition appeared. Of course not, Eddie thought wryly, why would Steve Harrington have ever spared a moment's thought for Eddie "The Freak" Munson? Let alone recognize him eight years later.
"Can I help you?" Steve tucked a wave of hair behind his ear, and that's when Eddie spotted the first scars. Rounded fang marks clustered along the side of Steve's neck, mostly centered over his jugular, and then more scattered the further from that point they got. Some were raised, some dimpled. Some were dusky red marks and others just pale white remnants of very old bites.
Seemed like he was at the right place after all.
Eddie didn't realize he was still staring at those bite marks on Steve's neck and that he hadn't responded to the question, until a quickening of Steve's pulse brought attention to it. It was subtle—the man seemed fairly calm otherwise—but it was enough to have Eddie's fangs itching behind his lips and the taste of his own venom spicy on his tongue. Fuck, he was hungry and Steve smelled so damn good. Now that he was noticing it, it was all that Eddie could smell. He was suddenly overwhelmed with Steve. Steve's blood, Steve's heartbeat, Steve's heat, the salt of Steve's skin, the give of it under his fangs, the sounds he would make….
Steve cleared his throat impatiently and brought Eddie back to reality for the second time. This time it seemed to stick for longer than two seconds.
"Fuck, sorry," Eddie cursed, wrenching his gaze back up to Steve's and stubbornly sticking it there. "I, uh…" Jesus, what was he supposed to say again? "I noticed your lights. Out front." Eddie paused, but Steve remained silent and more or less expressionless. "The…blue ones?" Very smooth, Munson. Eddie grimaced at himself.
A beat passed where Eddie was sure he'd already fucked up, but then… "Who sent you?" Steve asked. It was honestly a relief to Eddie that he hadn't had the door slammed in his face.
"Um, George…?" Shit, Eddie didn't know George's last name. Was he supposed to know his last name? Was there more than one vampire in Chicago named George? "George," he repeated, full stop, a bit more confident that time.
Steve's eyebrows lifted. "George did?"
"Yeah, is that bad? He gave me this address and said to look for the blue light, so—"
"It's not bad." Steve cut in, and Eddie was frankly very thankful that Steve interrupted what was about to become some real awkward over-explaining. "I just didn't think Georgie liked me enough to recommend me."
'Georgie?' No one Eddie knew, vampire or human alike, would dare give crazy vampire George a sweet nickname. Eddie didn't know whether to be horrified or impressed, but he didn't have much time to think about it because Steve was opening the door for him and stepping back into the apartment.
"Are you coming in or not?" Steve called over his shoulder.
Eddie hurried across the threshold and shut the door behind him.
Steve's apartment was very…normal. Eddie had no idea what he'd been expecting, but he'd already been thrown for a major loop by being confronted at the door by his high school wet dream. At this point, Eddie thought he should be tossing all further expectations out the window.
The place was tidy and cozy. Lived in but neat. With mismatched but nice furniture and a plush couch sitting across from a television. Steve had art and posters hanging on his walls, what looked like a well-stocked mini bar in the corner near the door to the kitchen, and a good-sized collection of tapes and vinyls organized on a shelf by a very nice looking sound system. On the coffee table there was a paperback book with a pair of round wire-framed glasses settled on top, and next to that was a still-steaming mug of tea on top of a coaster. Eddie was surprised to see a keyboard tucked to one side under a window, with an acoustic guitar sitting on a stand next to it. Playing guitar had always been a way to self-soothe for him, and right now his hands were itching to get themselves on the instrument to try and push back the anxiety he was feeling.
Steve was silent for a long while, seemingly just watching Eddie inspect his space. It felt very generous of him to let Eddie, a total stranger, poke around without protest. It would almost feel weirdly trusting if Steve wasn't watching his every move like a very serious hawk.
"I'm Steve, by the way," he finally said. "Don't know if Georgie told you."
"Yeah—" Eddie's voice caught as he stumbled over whether he should spill that he knew exactly who Steve was, but ultimately he settled for, "yeah, he did." It just seemed too complicated the other way. "I'm Eddie."
"You can put some music on if you want," Steve said when Eddie's gaze slid back to the shelf of vinyls and lingered there for longer than a second.
Eddie took him up on the offer because he wasn't sure what else he was supposed to be doing at the moment. He felt very much like a fish out of water and if playing music wasn't a choice, then listening to it was the next best thing. He'd had to leave most of his own music collection behind when he moved away from Hawkins. No place to store it all when you were living in a van.
With gentle hands, Eddie shuffled through the vinyls on the shelf. Most of it wasn't to his exact taste, but he could hardly blame Steve Harrington for not having any heavy metal in his collection. He did find something almost as good though, and the familiar cover of Led Zeppelin's first self-titled album put a smile on Eddie's face when he pulled it from the shelf.
A moment later the record was spinning on the turntable and the first notes of "Good Times Bad Times" were playing from the speakers. Eddie wanted to crank the volume, to let the music do all the thinking for him, but instead he twisted the knob a half turn lower to keep it at a volume that was easy to talk over. When he turned back to the room, Steve was still watching him.
"Solid choice," he commented, then he gestured a hand toward a row of hooks hanging on the wall by the door. "You can take your jacket off if you want."
"Thanks," Eddie replied, to both statements. He faltered with a moment of indecision over his jacket, but ultimately decided to slip it off along with his flannel as a single unit and hang both on the hooks.
He was about to ask what happens now, maybe toss in a few self-deprecating comments about how it's his first time and to please be gentle, but Steve was already diving right into business.
"The price is $50 per bite," Steve explained with what sounded like a well-practiced spiel. "That's teeth breaking skin. You choose where you want to bite, but if it's below the belt I'm charging an extra $20 per bite." He paused for a moment, leveling a scrutinizing gaze on Eddie until the vampire nodded his understanding.
Steve's eyebrows lifted. "I'm going to need verbal confirmation, please."
And oh, that tone did something for Eddie. He'd probably be blushing if he had enough blood in his system to reach the right places. As it was, he hadn't had a proper meal in weeks. So he was definitely lacking a human-like complexion.
"Uh, y-yes. Yeah, makes sense," Eddie stammered stupidly, inwardly kicking himself. Why couldn't becoming a vampire have made him better at talking to pretty boys?
Steve watched him for a second more with an expression on his face that was somewhere between wariness and annoyance. "Good," he finally said, then walked over to the front window where the blue lights were strung, unplugging them as he continued his little sales speech. "If you want me to get drunk or high before a visit I need a couple days' notice. I charge double for that, minimum. Plus you provide the stuff."
"Shit." Eddie was starting to feel overwhelmed, but he was also buzzing with anticipation in a 'might throw up' sort of way. "Is there, like, a menu or something I can look at? Something with pictures? Maybe a package deal if I buy in bulk?" Eddie forced a grin, trying to lighten the mood a little, and trying to hide how nervous he was feeling.
Steve made a face. "Are you trying to be funny?"
Ouch. Steve clearly wasn't a fan of joking as a defense mechanism, what with the way he frowned at Eddie and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Er…yeah. I ramble when I'm nervous and I don't think about the shit I'm saying so… Yeah, sorry, I was." Eddie rubbed awkwardly at the back of his own neck and forced a huff of air out of his sluggish lungs to blow the bangs out of his eyes. "Trying to joke, that is."
For an excruciating few seconds, Steve said nothing and Eddie tried to look anywhere except for at him. When he did chance a look, he was surprised to find that Steve's features had softened.
"You're nervous?" Steve asked, arms coming uncrossed in a more relaxed stance. His brows were gently furrowed over dark eyes, and he was looking at Eddie as if just seeing him for the first time.
Eddie squirmed under that gaze and let out a harsh laugh. "Yeah, man, I'm nervous as fuck," he admitted, fingers fidgeting with rings and not looking at Steve anymore. "This is my first time, uh…you know. So, I don't—" He paused, face screwing up as he tried to find the words for exactly what he was trying to say. For a shameful moment, Eddie felt himself back in the halls of Hawkins High, pinned under the antagonistic gazes of his bullies. Asshole jocks that looked at him like he was a bug under their shoe. That called him names, shoved and tripped him in the hallways. Asshole jocks just like Steve Harrington, who had never directly bullied him but had run with the same crowds.
"Okay." Steve's gentle tone had Eddie's gaze flying up again, wide-eyed with surprise.
"Okay?"
Steve smiled at him for the first time. A very small quirk of the lips, but a smile nonetheless, and Eddie had no idea how to react. Steve wasn't looking at him with any amount of disdain. He wasn't even looking at him with pity, which Eddie thought might have been worse. Instead, Steve looked the most relaxed Eddie had seen that night while he very calmly went to sit on the couch.
"Come sit with me." He gestured Eddie over, patting the cushion next to him.
Eddie's feet were moving before he had a chance to second-guess himself. He sank into the admittedly very comfy cushions, turned to face Steve, their knees nearly bumping, then sat quietly, confused and a little bit unnerved at this turn of events.
"We're just going to talk first, okay?" Steve offered, his tone kind but not in a condescending way.
Eddie nodded, and then remembered last-second to speak. "Sure," he said. "Okay."
Sitting this close to Steve was a test of Eddie's control for sure. This close, he had a good view of the visible scars on Steve's body, and his eyes trailed them. Down both sides of his neck, dipping into the collar of his plain gray t-shirt and reappearing down his arms as scattered bites until they clustered over both wrists again. They were beautiful, in a way, but Eddie felt no small amount of inner turmoil over the way those scars drew him in. The way he wanted to use them as a guide for where his own fangs would be breaking that soft skin.
This close, Steve smelled of warm, clean skin, fresh laundry, something cedary from whatever shampoo he'd used, and just overwhelmingly like sweet, delicious, life-giving blood. Eddie could almost taste the metallic tang of it on his tongue already, and it made his fangs slip down a little. He could hear Steve's heart pumping strong and steady in his chest, and feel the heat coming off of him like a furnace. Eddie was so cold his hands were feeling stiff from it, and it took everything he had not to reach for that heat and bury himself in it. He folded his hands together in his lap instead.
He was so fucking hungry.
"You said this was your first time?" Steve began with a casualness that was jarring in contrast to Eddie's spiraling thoughts. "First time with a donor, you mean?"
"More like first time, you know…" God, he felt awkward. Like he was confessing his virginity. Which Eddie supposed he sort of was. In a way. "...with a human."
"Oh." Steve's eyebrows raised just a little, showing surprise. "I mean, that's okay."
"Is it?"
"Sure." Steve shrugged. "Why wouldn't it be?"
Eddie didn't know. Well, he did know, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to talk to Steve about it. This felt more like something you'd talk to a therapist about. Were there vampire-specific therapists?
"Can I ask… Sorry, I know this is a rude question usually, but have you been a vampire for very long?"
Eddie huffed out a small, dry laugh at how delicately—how professionally—Steve had asked the question. "I mean, compared to a lot of vampires, no," he replied. "But it's been a couple years."
Steve nodded. "And you haven't bitten a human yet? Why?"
"Fuck, man. I don't know." Eddie rubbed a cold hand over his face and scrubbed it through his hair, wincing a bit as his rings caught in a tangle or two. "I guess it feels like this is the last hold I have on my own humanity." He didn't know why he was telling Steve any of this, but now the dam was broken and the words kept coming. "And once I take that last step then I'm just this other thing that's inside me, and I don't know if I can control that thing. He's a monster." Eddie spat the last words like they were bitter and made the face to match.
"You're not a monster." To Steve's credit, he didn't seem at all fazed by Eddie spilling his emotions everywhere.
"You don't know me." Eddie scowled. "What if I take one sip out of you and then I can't stop myself? What's stopping me from bleeding you dry and walking away?"
Steve looked amused, and it was mildly infuriating. "I can take care of myself. Don't worry about me."
"You think you're going to overpower a vampire? I'm like, ten times stronger than you or something."
"Not when you're this hungry," Steve pointed out. "You're probably only five times stronger at best."
"Fuck you, asshole. This isn't funny," Eddie protested, but his anger was quick to dissipate when Steve grinned at him. A full, beautiful grin that reached up into his eyes and sparkled with something a little bit devious. And fuck. There was no way Eddie could stay mad at that pretty face.
"You really think my blood is going to be that delicious, huh?" Steve's grin deepened, wicked and devastatingly attractive.
On second thought, maybe Eddie could stay mad. Was Steve Harrington actually flirting with him? Flirting? Really? Now didn't really feel like the best time for flirting because, yes, he did think Steve was going to be that delicious and, yes, he was worried about it.
Eddie just glowered in response and Steve sobered a little.
"Okay, okay," he conceded. "Look." Shifting his weight on the couch, Steve thrust his hand between two of the cushions and a second later he produced a dagger from the crevice. It was really simple in design, a double-edged blade about five inches long with a leather-wrapped handle.
Eddie gaped at the weapon as if Steve had pulled a rabbit out of the couch cushions instead. "You just keep a knife in your couch, like, all the time?"
"In the couch, and more in other places too."
Eddie warily eyed Steve and his dagger. "You know the silver hurting vampires thing is a myth, right?"
"Won't matter what it's made of if I stab you in the neck with it."
A delicious and shameful thrill ran up Eddie's spine at those words. He shouldn't be so turned on at Steve's offhanded but violent remark, but something in the other man's tone had him all twisted up inside. The thing was, Eddie had no doubt in his mind that Steve was dead serious. He had no doubt that Steve would stab him in the neck with his little knife if he needed to, and fuck if that wasn't the hottest thing of all. For the first time in his so-called afterlife, Eddie was thankful he didn't have enough blood in him to allow his dick to get the half chub he was sure he'd have by now.
"I could—" Eddie cleared his throat. "I could take that knife from you, easy. Then what?"
Steve gave a half shrug, flipping the dagger in his hand with a well-practiced maneuver so he could offer it—handle first—to Eddie. Baffled, Eddie took it from him. The dagger had a good weight to it and felt solid in his hand. The handle was warm from Steve holding it.
In the blink of an eye, Steve made a second dagger appear from between another set of cushions and Eddie's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"Jesus H. Christ," he blurted out. "What the fuck? Is this couch just made of knives?"
Steve laughed and it was a beautiful sound. Eddie was so fucked.
"No, just the two," Steve said, shaking his head. He leaned forward to place the second knife on the coffee table with a solid thunk of metal against wood. When he settled back into the cushions again, his arm draped along the back of the couch, putting his scarred wrist very near Eddie's face and his fingers an inch away from being able to twist into the hair by Eddie's ear.
The move was so smooth that Eddie honestly had no idea whether it had been done intentionally or not. Although he suspected it was, Steve being a professional and all. All he knew was that his nerve endings were suddenly lit up from the hyper awareness of how close Steve was to him,and how he would only have to turn his head a little bit to have that wrist in his mouth. Christ, he could already almost taste the salt of Steve's skin. Venom was seeping from Eddie's fangs and mixing with his saliva as his mouth watered over the thought of that bite.
"How long have you been doing this?" Eddie asked, voice quiet so as not to break the strange intimacy of this moment.
"Almost four years."
Four years ago Steve had been 22. Eddie knew this because Steve had been a year below him in school up until they'd shared a senior year. Then of course Steve graduated, and Eddie remained for a third and final senior year. Eddie wondered what had brought 22-year-old Steve into this crazy, dangerous profession of his, but he didn't think it was his place to ask.
"Your, uh…clients," he asked instead, "they don't heal their bites for you?" Eddie's eyes were back on Steve's wrist, so close to him, examining the scars there. "Seems pretty dickish, not gonna lie."
Steve snorted a small laugh and shook his head. "A few do. Pretty sure some can't or don't know how. Others I think just like leaving a mark. At this point, I don't think it really matters. I already have enough of them."
Eddie hated the idea of countless vampires over the years purposefully leaving scars all over Steve just for the fun of it. Like etching "Dracula was here" on the bathroom wall.
"What do you mean 'can't'?" Eddie had never bitten a human, but even he knew it was possible to heal his bite and not leave a mark afterward.
"I don't know the science of it," Steve replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "But my guess is it has something to do with the venom."
"The venom?"
"Yeah, different venoms cause different reactions. Sometimes my body reacts badly to a vampire's venom, and I think those bites mostly scar no matter what. There was one vampire I had an allergic reaction to; I broke out in hives all over my body." Steve was acting really calm and collected, all while he was unlocking a brand new fear in Eddie.
Eddie's eyebrows raised. "What the fuck, seriously?"
"I was itchy for a week," Steve confirmed, nose wrinkling at the uncomfortable memory. "I keep an EpiPen handy now. Just in case."
Eddie's face must have shown the alarm he was feeling, because Steve got a bit more serious suddenly, watching Eddie closely.
"Hey, don't worry about it." Steve shifted closer, putting Eddie that much more on edge but for an entirely different reason. "The chances of that happening is so rare, and anyway, I'm prepared."
Steve's hand moved from the back of the couch and for a thrilling moment Eddie thought he'd feel fingers in his hair after all. Instead, the burning heat of Steve's hand landed heavy and comforting on Eddie's shoulder, setting him alight.
"You're cold," Steve murmured, and Eddie swallowed hard.
"Hungry," he croaked, miserably. His gaze turned down to the wrist that was even closer to his mouth now. He thought about swiping his tongue over the pulsing artery, there between delicate bones and tendons. Thought about blood spilling down his chin and running down Steve's arm.
Steve was squeezing Eddie's shoulder. "I can tell. Your lips are starting to turn blue."
With every single ounce of self-control Eddie could muster, he peeled his eyes away from Steve's arm and to his handsome face. "I pick where I bite?" he asked, feeling strangely breathless for a being that had no need to breathe.
Steve gave a slow nod and Eddie felt a gentle tug at the knife in his hands. He'd completely forgotten he was still holding it. Wordlessly, he let Steve take the dagger from him to set it with the other one on the table.
"You pick," Steve confirmed, "but can I suggest…?" He looked to Eddie, waiting for any objection but getting none. "The neck might be easier for you since it's your first time," he continued. "The wrist has a lot more complicated stuff going on."
"Okay. Sure." Eddie felt like he might pass out from pleasure just at the thought of pressing his face into Steve's warm neck and sinking his fangs into the muscles there.
Steve maneuvered himself to sit facing forward on the couch, and Eddie silently moved to better face him. He tucked his legs more under himself and leaned forward on his knees. Steve reached behind his own head to pull his hair aside. The movement caused his head to tilt and the expanse of his neck to stretch open, baring himself in a way that pulled an embarrassing whimper out of Eddie.
Eddie dipped his head to nuzzle his face into the neck being so generously offered to him, biting back another embarrassing noise as Steve's scent overwhelmed him. He looped his hand around the opposite side of Steve's neck and pulled him in closer, dragging his mouth upward from shoulder to jaw as he narrowed in on the perfect spot. There, where the scent of blood was the strongest and Steve's heartbeat pulsed rhythmically up against Eddie's mouth through the skin. Eddie scraped his fangs against the spot and, waiting silently, Steve shivered.
Eddie’s fangs sank into the flesh with little resistance, and the feeling was pure bliss. Like finally scratching a deep itch. He bit down harder than he maybe needed to, but there was no reaction from Steve other than his muscles tensing at the initial piercing of skin, and then a soft hiss as the sting of venom joined the fray. The release of pressure in Eddie's face as the glands emptied was borderline euphoric. He felt Steve relax under him as the venom began to do its work, numbing the area and easing the blood flow.
His fangs receded again, and the subsequent gush of blood was instant and profuse. Eddie groaned in pleasure as it filled his mouth with the most intensely delicious flavor. Thick, metallic, a little bit salty, and so fucking warm. It was practically burning its way down as Eddie swallowed, spreading the heat to every corner of his body. He took several eager gulps before pressing the flat of his tongue over the bites to lessen the flow to a more manageable level.
"Jesus, fuck." Eddie almost didn't recognize he'd spoken at all. His voice was a deep growl, wet with fluid and smothered against Steve's neck. He'd been afraid that his first taste of human blood would lead him to dark places, but it was so much worse than he'd feared. This was going to be addicting. He didn't have any frame of reference for knowing whether all human blood was as good as Steve's, but Eddie didn't know how he'd be able to go back to cow blood after this.
A stray drop of blood escaped Eddie's greedy mouth and dribbled down toward the collar of Steve's shirt. He chased it, sweeping the flat of his tongue up Steve's neck and latching his lips more firmly around his bite. Steve squirmed, and his breath hitched as Eddie continued to work his mouth over the spot, making obscene noises as his tongue swirled and lips smacked.
Steve had been very still at first, but he was beginning to fidget in his seat the more Eddie drank. First his knee bouncing in little bursts, then his hips subtly shifting and hands gripping into the cushions. He was doing a good enough job of keeping his upper body still that Eddie didn't notice anything amiss until the beating of Steve's heart told a different story.
Maybe if Eddie hadn't been so absorbed in his own experience, he would have noticed something was off a bit sooner. As it was, he could have been on an entirely different planet for all he was aware of his surroundings. His entire world was stripped down to his base instinct of feeding. The warmth flooding him; the taste of skin, sweat, and blood; the roaring in his ears that drowned out all other sounds. Until that roar became a pulse and the pulse became Steve's heartbeat.
A heartbeat that had started slow and steady but was now pounding at a furious rate.
"Steve?" Eddie's eyes flew up to try and see Steve's face, but the angle made it difficult. He pressed his tongue into the bites he'd left until the blood flow stopped completely. Steve sucked in a sharp breath of air at the contact, and held it with a clench of his jaw. His skin was flushed down into the top of his shirt.
"Steve, are you okay?"
Eddie only got a soft grunt in reply, barely an acknowledgement, but one of Steve's hands slid into the hair at the base of Eddie's skull and held there. Steve's palm was warm and soft on the back of Eddie's neck.
"Are you having a reaction?" Eddie started to pull back, but the hand in his hair tightened briefly, sending a jolt of pleasure down his spine.
"Ha!" The laugh came on a burst of air as Steve finally released the breath he'd been holding. "Maybe." His voice was strained and he swallowed thickly. "Something like that."
Eddie's brows furrowed. What the fuck did that mean? He tilted his head back as much as he could to examine Steve's face and then down his body, looking for any signs of hives or some other reaction until...oh.
Steve was hard as a rock in his jeans.
"Don't stop."
Eddie tore his eyes back up to Steve's face with surprise. "What?"
"Bite me again."
Eddie was speechless for a moment, wide eyes taking in the sight in front of him. Steve with his eyes dark with pleasure, pupils dilated and eyebrows furrowed, breath coming quick and heavy through parted lips, sweat glistening across his hairline, muscles tense, fresh bite marks on his neck. Eddie's bite marks.
Eddie licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. "Is this some kinda ploy to get more money out of me?"
Steve gave a huff of frustration, fingers clenching in Eddie's curls. "Just shut the fuck up and bite me."
"Bossy," Eddie tsked a split second before he was being yanked forward. Or maybe he dove forward. Either way, his mouth was on Steve's neck again, and the details on how he got there weren't that important. He found a spot an inch lower than his previous bite and sank his fangs into the muscle there. At this point his hunger was mostly sated, so this was a bite simply for biting’s sake and, fuck, was it satisfying.
Steve's head fell to the back of the couch with a soft thump, stretching his neck even more for Eddie as he groaned wantonly at the second intrusion of fangs. The sound of it vibrated through Eddie's skull and straight down to his dick, which was finally joining the party after the hearty meal he'd just enjoyed.
He felt himself being tugged forward again—this time by a hand pulling at the waist of his jeans—until he found himself straddling Steve's lap. Eddie gasped with surprise, the sudden movement causing his fangs to press deeper until the surrounding human teeth were also indenting skin. The pressure of it squeezed out the last of his venom and Steve whined, high-pitched and needy, at the sting of it.
"Son of a bitch," Steve panted. "What the fuck is in your fucking venom?"
Eddie hoped Steve wasn't expecting an actual answer to that question, because his brain had turned to incoherent sludge at this point. Steve had both hands gripped tightly over Eddie's hips now, pulling the vampire in while he bucked and writhed up underneath him, seeking that delicious friction. Eddie was helpless to do anything but roll his hips down to meet Steve's over and over, building his own pleasure and thrilling at the way Steve was arching up to meet him, at the sounds he was making.
Eddie peeled his mouth away from his newest bite to suck a bruise into a fresh spot of skin just below them, then continued a wet path downward. Steve was gasping little noises into the side of Eddie's face at every press of his mouth. His hands sought out the bare skin at Eddie's lower back where his shirt had ridden up, digging his nails into the skin there.
"Eddie, please," Steve whimpered, so close to Eddie's ear that he could feel the brush of lips at the shell of it and the hot puff of breath down his neck.
"Please what, sweetheart?" Eddie's voice sounded trembling and pathetic to his own ears, totally overwhelmed with his own blood lust and whatever the fuck Steve was doing to him.
"Bite me," Steve huffed, dragging Eddie against him more fervently in shorter but quicker pulls. The friction between their clothed cocks was bordering on painful from the roughness of their jeans. "Please bite me," Steve repeated, more desperately. "Fucking put your fangs in me. Please, Eddie, please I need it. I'm so fucking close, feels so good, please…."
And how the fuck was Eddie supposed to say no to that?
With a growl, Eddie yanked at the collar of Steve's shirt and delved his fangs into the flesh right at the curve where shoulder met neck. Steve cried out his pleasure, the bucking of his hips going erratic as his climax shook his entire body. His back arched and his fingers dug so tightly into Eddie's hips that they probably would have left marks for days afterwards if not for Eddie's accelerated healing.
Steve slumped back into the couch, boneless, and all Eddie could do was stare down at him, mouth agape, as the other man caught his breath. Steve was so beautiful it was unfair. Eddie hadn't reached his own climax, but he couldn't even be upset about it.
"Fuck," Steve gasped quietly, breathless. "That…that's never happened before." There was a deep blush joining the already flushed tone of his skin, and he opened his eyes to meet Eddie's for only a brief second before quickly looking away, embarrassed.
"I—Um…" Shit, he had no idea what to say. "Are you okay?" Eddie slid from Steve's lap and back to the couch. He wasn't sure what to do now. He wasn't sure what was supposed to happen even on a normal visit, let alone one that had been apparently very different. It felt wrong to just toss some cash at the man and call it a night.
Steve nodded, running a hand up through his hair and then down his face. He shifted in his seat and grimaced down at the wet spot at the front of his jeans.
"Yeah, sorry. I don't really know what to say." He gave a little laugh then and a hand came up to gingerly dab at the spots where Eddie had bitten him. It was Eddie's turn to look away then, because watching Steve touch his bites with curious fingers was doing something for him. Something he was already trying to suppress.
"That wasn't…that wasn't normal?" Eddie ventured.
Steve snorted. "No, I don't normally come in my pants like a teenager when a client bites me. That was, uh…something new."
Eddie tugged his lower lip between his teeth, not sure if he should be ashamed of how proud he felt about that little bit of information. It also made him feel weirdly possessive, and that definitely wasn't good.
Steve relaxed back into the cushions again, looking a little paler but otherwise fine. His eyelids were heavy as his exploring hand made it down to the most recent bites, and he gently felt around the area. Eddie hadn't taken the same amount of care to stop the blood flow with those as he had with the others, so Steve's fingers came away bloody.
Eddie wanted to suck those fingers into his mouth so badly. Instead, he scraped the pad of his own thumb along the sharp point of one of his fangs, drawing a small bead of blood. "Here. Let me…"
Steve was very still as Eddie leaned closer to press a dab of blood on each of the six puncture points. The small wounds were quick to close, and some of the nearby bruising faded as well. Part of him hated to see his own bites disappear from Steve's neck, but they took some of the scarring along with them, leaving soft unblemished skin where angry red wounds used to be, and that did make it worth it.
Worth it to have the marks left by other vampires erased from Steve's skin. Even if his own went along with them.
"You didn't have to." Steve's voice was a sleepy rumble. He rolled his head along the back of the couch to look at Eddie and there was a soft smile on his face.
"Wanted to," Eddie replied simply.
"Thanks."
"Can I get you anything?" he asked. "Water maybe?" Was there aftercare normally involved in these transactions? Fuck if Eddie knew, but it seemed like the least he could do.
Steve started to shake his head but then seemed to think twice. "Juice?" he asked instead, a bit timidly. Eddie would move mountains for Steve if he asked for it in that sweet voice.
"Yeah. Yeah, sure, of course. Um…stay there."
Eddie made his way into the small kitchen, taking a moment once he was out of sight to force several deep breaths. He was still achingly hard in his pants, but being out of Steve's immediate orbit was helping. He willed his body to calm down, palming his erection into a more comfortable position in his jeans and then, with one more breath and a sigh, he went about his task.
It didn't take long for him to find the glassware, and there was a jug of orange juice right at the front when he opened the fridge. He poured a glass and, as a last minute thought, he also grabbed up a sleeve of saltine crackers he found in another cabinet.
Steve was sitting right where Eddie had left him. He glanced up at Eddie's return and gratefully took both juice and crackers from him. "Thanks," he said, after drinking down half of the juice. He also ate one of the crackers, and that made Eddie happy.
"I should go." Eddie walked over to slip on his flannel and jacket, aware of Steve's eyes on him the whole time. Eddie expected to feel awkward as he dug his wallet out of his inner coat pocket, especially after everything that had transpired between them that night. This was both weirdly intimate and jarringly impersonal, and Eddie had no earthly idea how to feel about it as he counted out a stack of twenties. Fifty per bite, times three bites… He went ahead and rounded up to an even $200 because, well…because it made him feel less like he took advantage. Sort of.
Steve frowned a little at the pile of bills Eddie set on the coffee table. "That's too much," he protested.
"I bit you three times."
Steve shook his head, sitting up with a bit of effort. "No, I… I asked for the other bites." Eddie couldn't help but notice the redness that bloomed up into Steve's ears at those words. Eddie needed to get the hell out of there before he did something stupid like kiss Steve right on his perfect mouth.
"Consider it a tip then," he said, turning for the door before Steve could offer any more arguments.
"Wait. Hang on."
Fuck. Eddie paused halfway to freedom and glanced back at Steve. The man was reaching for the book he'd left on the table before Eddie had even arrived. He slipped something out from between the pages and offered it to Eddie.
"Take my card with you."
Eddie hesitated for a second before walking back to Steve and reluctantly taking the card from him. "You're gonna lose your spot in the book," he joked half-heartedly, eyeing the card in his hand. It was a simple design, glossy black background with white text reading only Steve's first name and phone number. There were two holes punched at an angle off to the side with a bit of red around each hole, making it look like a vampire had taken a bite out of the card. Eddie had to fight the intrusive thought that told him to put his fangs in it to see if they would fit.
"I'll survive," Steve chuckled. "Just call, y'know, whenever…." He trailed off as if he wasn't sure what he was trying to say or if he should even say it. He finally landed on, "whenever you're hungry."
"Got it." Eddie tucked the card into his back pocket. "Yeah, I'll call." He had no idea if he was ever going to call. He shouldn't. The whole night had been mistake enough. It would be better for him to toss the card into the next garbage bin he saw and forget all about it.
Forget all about Steve Harrington, his delicious blood, his sweet scent, the warmth of his skin, and the intoxicating noises he makes while being pleasured.
"Bye, Steve. Um…thanks." Eddie wanted to run out the door, but instead he mustered up all his self-control to walk like a normal, totally casual person. Definitely not emotionally affected whatsoever.
"See ya, Munson," Steve called after him.
Eddie managed to not slam the door in his rush to get out, but he was reckless about taking the stairs two at a time on his way down. He didn't slow his hurried pace until he was already several blocks away. The night time felt alive now that Eddie was fed, and his abilities were back in full focus as a result. His body was thrumming with renewed energy, but he couldn't even enjoy it because all he could focus on was the smell of Steve lingering on his clothes and the taste of him in his mouth.
He was back on the train, headed toward his van, before the reality of Steve's parting words finally struck him.
Munson. He'd called him 'Munson.'