Hold On Until It's Over

If Ford had the ability to kick himself right now, he would have. He knew better than this. Should have known better than to put himself in such a situation, and yet here he was, lying in an alley bleeding to death because he'd gone and acted like an idiot instead of calling for his lackeys when things had become out of his control and out of his depth.

Too tired to try and reach for his phone to call them now, he felt painfully helpless where he lay in a growing pool of his own blood. He imagined he could hear his own heartbeat slowing gradually, but he was pretty sure that was just his own over-active imagination.

A sudden soft rustle at the mouth of the alley caught his attention and he struggled to clear his throat and speak, coughing uselessly and weakly before he managed to get the words out, blood wetting his lips. "H... Hello?"

Makoto stopped in his tracks, fangs extended and dark eyes glittering, reflecting what little light there was in the alley. He had assumed the lump in the alleyway that smelled like fresh blood and still fresh meat had been a dead animal, but the soft voice told him otherwise and had him straining to listen for the man's heartbeat. It was soft and fluttery and for some reason that made him worry, which caused a frown to furrow his eyebrows.

He wasn't the worrying type. He'd been on his own for a long time now, subsisting on the blood of criminals and street punks, only taking a lover now and then for enough times that it took to slake his lust before he moved on.

All of this was why he couldn't explain to himself why was he moving silently down the dark alley towards this man, crouching beside him and dirtying the knees of his pants to run curious cool hands over his body in search of his injuries.

Ford inhaled sharply at the unexpected touches, body stiffening and hackles automatically rising. Raised on the streets from a tender and influential age, he'd surprisingly managed to retain a great deal of his humanity until he'd been taken in by the local gang leader at the age of sixteen. Treated like a wanted son and a valued human being for the first time in his life, his bond with the older man had grown tight, right up until the gang had been handed to him at the young age of twenty-four.

"W-what..."

"How many bullets?" Makoto asked gruffly, questing fingers seeking out the source of so much blood loss, the sharp tang of metal and gunpowder harsh in his nose as it assaulted his hypersensitive senses.

Confused, but for some reason not scared, despite the fact that he was in an easy position to be in further danger should someone take advantage of it, Ford licked cracked lips and struggled to answer the question even as he wished he could sit up properly. He hated the thought that his hair was mashed against the alleyway ground, grinding into remnants of food, and other things. "F-four... I th-think..."

Making a bit of a face at the quantity of bullets, Makoto did his best to gently grab the man under his arms and shift the deadweight of his body so that he was propped up against the brick wall of the closest building. Surprised to see how young the man looked, brilliant blue eyes staring up at him from under a fringe of soiled blond hair, he quickly looked away when he felt unfamiliar feelings bubble up in his chest.

"Stay still. This is going to hurt," Makoto rumbled softly, leaning in to sniff along his skin for the densest pockets of blood.

Confusion covered Ford's face as the man leaned in, nose nearly pressed to his skin. Too exhausted to speak anymore, he flinched slightly at the feeling of cool fingers tearing away already mutilated fabric. If his clothes hadn't already been torn to shreds from the earlier attack he would probably have been upset with the man, but it was too late to worry about his suit now when it was long beyond repair.

Jerking in surprise at the sudden feel of something soft and damp against his skin, Ford struggled to shift enough to look down, eyes peering through the night gloom to see what was going on. The sharp stab of what felt like tiny knives into the bullet hole had him inhaling sharply, pulse skipping a beat dangerously as blood struggled to flow freely from the newly unstoppered hole.

"Shh, stay still," Makoto hissed softly as he lapped at the wound, the enzymes in his saliva helping to heal it rapidly until all that was left was a shiny round scar, fresh and pink on the man's pale skin, the wound too large to heal without leaving any sort of mark. Hurrying to find the remaining wounds, he leaned over the man's body to spit out his blood onto the already filthy pavement, making a face at the smoky taste of gunpowder that saturated it.

While the blood itself was deliciously sweet and tangy, a uniquely fresh flavour considering the man's apparent age, Makoto couldn't stand to stomach the amount of gunpowder that was thick in it, especially directly in the wounds.

"Wuh-what... wht're y'dn... p...p'v't..." Ford managed to get out, finding something strangely intimate about the feel of the man's tongue on his skin, no matter the reason for why he was doing it.

Pausing for a split second in his actions, Makoto found himself smiling against the man's skin at his mumbled and barely coherent words. It was strange that something that should have been insulting amused him so much, but the man seemed genuinely surprised that someone would want to touch him in such a manner.

"Not tonight, sweetheart," Makoto said softly as he returned to the last and deepest wound, a jagged gunshot that had sliced along the outside of the man's thigh. Mid-lick, he blinked a bit in surprised when a light hand settled on his dark hair.

"... thanks," Ford managed to get out even as his eyes slid shut, consciousness starting to melt away from the amount of blood he'd lost.

A bit surprised by the gratitude, something that wasn't often shown in this day and age, Makoto finished closing the last wound with careful strokes of his tongue before sitting up straight and patting down the man's clothes, searching for some sort of mobile phone.

Placing a quick cryptic call to one of the numbers last dialed, Makoto tucked the phone back into the man's ragged jacket pocket before pressing cool fingers under the curve of his jaw to check on his pulse. Pleased with the slow but steady thump, he got ready to get up and leave.

A light touch to his wrist stilled his motions and he looked back down to meet half-closed blue eyes, feeling that strange pulse through his chest again.

"It's alright. I've called someone for you, and you can pay me back later," Makoto added with a small smile, licking his lips absently and remembering the sweet taste of the man's blood.

Unable to ignore the man's look despite how tired and sore he was, Ford swallowed convulsively and struggled to ignore the blossom of warmth that unfurled in his belly at the man's small smile and suggestive lip-licking.

"Another time," Makoto said softly, shrugging out of his outer coat and crouching down to spread it over the man's body, tucking it around him and finding himself gently touching one cool and blood-splattered cheek. It was almost worrying how much this stranger called to him, pulling him close after all the years he'd let himself be alone.

"S'Ford... m'name," Ford managed to get out, eyelids drooping a little, too tired to even lean into the touch to his cheek. If he were all there, he would have been surprised at himself for sharing information that wasn't usually known outside of the gang.

"... another time then, Ford," Makoto repeated, touch lingering almost compulsively before he gave into his inner urges and leaned in to brush his lips against Ford's, licking a little to taste drops of blood that were lingering there before reluctantly pulling back. Not sure why he said it, but thinking maybe he was giving back the man's trust, Makoto found himself whispering his name before getting to his feet and smoothing down his shirt.

He knew he needed to get going before the man's co-workers got there and demanded some sort of explanation from him.

Hurrying down the alleyway and melting into the crowds, he did his best to put any thoughts of the other man out of his mind for the time being, not needing the distraction when he had to feed. If fate allowed them to meet again, Makoto would deal with his feelings then. Until that time came though, he would do his best to ignore them.

It was unusual for Ford to be outside while a game was in progress, but for some reason tonight he found himself standing outside the back of the pub, rolling a cigarette between his palms absently as he stared blankly out into the darkness of the alley.

Slightly more than two months since his brush with death in an alley just like this one, and his meeting with the strange man named Makoto, Ford once again found himself thinking more and more about the other man, and not just because he'd saved his life. He knew that logically there were no such things as vampires and other mythical creatures, but it was hard to keep such a staunch view when he had first hand evidence to the contrary.

Sulkily lighting up the cigarette in his hand, he inhaled a bit lazily, not really liking the taste of nicotine or tobacco, but enjoying the relaxing effects of the cigarette and the act of smoking it. Exhaling softly and sighing, he stiffened when he heard the soft crunch of footsteps.

"... who's there?"

"Forgetting me so soon?"

Unable to ever forget that smooth, deep voice, Ford struggled to keep outwardly calm, even though his heart was racing from the memory of the other man's tongue on his skin and his lips – however lightly they had been – on his own. It had been so intimate despite the situation and the most intimacy that Ford had had the privilege of having in the last six years.

"No... I haven't forgotten you," Ford finally said, taking one last drag of the cigarette and exhaling as he dropped it to the ground and ground it out under the heel of one of his boots. "Who could?" he added, even if he didn't think it was the smartest thing to be saying while trying to act unaffected.

His honest words startled a soft chuckle from Makoto even as the older man sauntered closer, lured in by the blond's sweet scent, something he had smelled even as he had been passing by on the street. Making his way over to where the smaller man stood, he found himself crowding the other man up against the wall. "Such sweet words, you'll inflate my ego at this rate."

Inhaling sharply at how quickly the other man was in front of him, Ford stiffened immediately, blue eyes sharp and meeting the taller man's unfathomable gaze.

"Can I help you?" he asked, a little proud at how firm his voice was, not a single wobbly note or shaky word.

Makoto found his lips curving upward even more, wondering what it was about this man that just made him want to not only touch every part of him, but to actually speak with him as well. Leaning in to nose at Ford's smooth cheek, he traced cool fingers down the sharp line of the other man's jaw before sneaking under the curve of it to press against his rapidly fluttering pulse.

"You should relax for me, first of all," Makoto said softly, worried a little bit that the man would hyperventilate and pass out from his panic. "I'm not going to hurt you. If I had wanted to do that, I wouldn't have bothered to save you in the first place."

Exhaling shakily, Ford struggled to calm his heart rate while at the same time resisting the urge he had to lean into the surprisingly cool feel of the man's fingers against his own warm skin. It was such a stark contrast that it felt so deliciously good, making him want more when he had no right to want anything at all from the stranger.

"That's better."

Continuing to gently touch Ford's skin, trailing strong fingers down the strong expanse of the man's neck, Makoto gently rubbed his thumb over the corded muscle there, feeling the soft fluttering pulse and unable to resist it any longer. Leaning in, he brushed his lips over Ford's neck, tongue slipping out to taste his skin. His skin was almost as sweet tasting as his blood and it made Makoto's fangs ache with pure want.

"W-what... what do you want from me?" Ford finally managed to ask, even as he swallowed a little convulsively. He'd never been touched so intimately before, and yet for some reason he wanted more with every touch that Makoto gave him.

"You owe me," Makoto replied, fingers still teasing Ford's skin. "I saved your life, so you owe me as much in return."

Ford had never been stupid, and now especially, it took no prompting or small talk for him to understand just what Makoto was getting at, even if he still found it so close to impossible to believe something so far-fetched and out of this world. Taking his lip between his teeth nervously, he reluctantly let it go in order to speak.

"Will it hurt?"

Makoto shrugged shallowly, offering the only thing he could, which was the truth. "It shouldn't hurt. It will most likely sting, a light pinch not unlike being pierced. But to be honest, it's been a long long time since I was turned, and that's the only experience I ever had being fed upon."

Not exactly heartened by Makoto's words, he had to at least appreciate his honesty. Despite the promise of some pain though, he found himself almost curious about what it would feel like. On top of that curiousity – or rather, buried even further below it – Ford felt the thick and heavy ache low in his belly that reminded him just how close this man's body was to his, and how long it had been since the last time he'd found someone who would sleep with him.

Blinking a bit as the man's scent changed, Makoto searched Ford's gaze, curious as to what had caused that mouth-wateringly sweet scent to grow thicker and riper.

Unable to help but blush at Makoto's inquisitive look, Ford felt like his desires were printed across his face for the world to see. That thought made his blush deepen even further, because he was an intensely private person and the thought of a stranger knowing his deepest desires made him want to turn away and hide.

"Oh?"

Makoto felt his lips tilt it up as the other man blushed, infusing his cheeks with that delicious blood. Leaning in closer, reluctant to stop touching the smooth arch of Ford's neck, he pressed his nose against the man's cheek, inhaling deeply and feeling his cock stir as he identified that smell as the scent of lust that was heavy in Ford's blood. "I could give you that too," he said softly, mouth ghosting over Ford's warm cheeks. "But I'd rather not do that in an alley. It's not really my thing."

Flushing further at the rather correct assumption that Makoto made, Ford swallowed hard and closed his eyes before turning his head to the side, blatantly offering the smooth skin of his neck up for Makoto's mouth. He owed the man, and he wouldn't shirk away from that debt, no matter the consequences.

It was almost impossible for Makoto to not lean in right then and sink his teeth into such delicious looking veins. He forced himself to stay calm, leaning in slowly and licking delicately at warm and sweet skin before finally lining up his teeth and pressing in hard, feeling an inescapable pulse of lust at the first hot rush of blood on his tongue.

A soft gasp escaped Ford at the sharp sting of the bite, but he barely had time to think about that when cool heavy hands settled on his waist and tugged him close, bringing their bodies together and stirring up that hot swirl of lust that lingered in his belly. Unable to stop himself from whimpering needily, he found himself clinging to the other man's strong biceps, muscles twitching under his palms.

Wanting to be as close to Ford as he could while drinking, Makoto shifted his body and pressed one strong thigh between Ford's legs, pinning him to the alley wall. If he could have smirked with his teeth sunk into the man's neck, he was sure he would have just from the noise that rumbled in the back of Ford's throat even as his hips pressed up against the pressure between his legs.

Ford was sure he'd never been one of those people turned on by kinky shit, but it was like Makoto's teeth in his neck were hard-wired right between his legs, filling his cock with blood and making him wish that they weren't in an alley so that the other man could fuck him senseless.

Almost blind with lust as he clung to Makoto and moved against his body in small rolling waves, it took him a moment to even register the soft clang of the pub's back door opening. It wasn't until he felt Makoto stiffen against him and slow in his drinking – though his teeth remained firmly in Ford's neck – that he realized there was someone else there. Cursing mentally, Ford struggled to stay still in order to not jar Makoto's fangs, even as he reluctantly opened his eyes to look to the left and glare at his subordinate, silently demanded for them to explain what they wanted before he got really annoyed.

"Um... Little Boss..."

The lackey's voice was hesitant, but at Ford's continued black look, he cleared his throat softly and mustered up the courage to continue speaking. "Um... one of the players wants to talk to you... like, right now..."

"Get. Lost," Ford managed to get out, the words feeling weird to speak with Makoto's teeth still in his neck. He was worried about saying too much and somehow damaging the muscles in his neck if the other man's fangs were moved to places they shouldn't go to.

"But... Bo—"

"Now," Ford cut him off, blue eyes hard and glittering in the dim amount of light that was shining on him from inside the doorway.

The lackey took the hint and nodded, swallowing hard and hurrying back inside to hopefully put the gambler off until Ford came back inside. He'd forgotten how scary his boss could be when he really tried, the blond man usually genial and kind, especially with the boys he considered family more than subordinates.

When the door clanged shut once more, Makoto took one last deep drink before reluctantly pulling his teeth carefully free and licking at the wound, watching with satisfaction as nothing but a hickey-sized bruise remained where the puncture wounds had been.

"Mmm... you're sexy when you're being scary," he said after getting in one last unnecessary lick to Ford's soft skin, loving the taste of it almost as much as his blood, as if the man's essence somehow saturated not just his blood, but his skin as well.

Ford let out a small soft laugh at that, the idea of a vampire calling him scary seemed a little bit off, but he appreciated the small boost to his ego nonetheless.

"What are you doing to me?" Makoto finally asked, voice soft and barely audible even in the still night air outside of the pub. Nudging Ford's cheek with his noise, he inhaled the sweet scent of his blood as Ford blushed once more at his words.

"What am I doing to you?" Ford replied with another soft laugh even as he struggled not to move when Makoto's leg was still heavy and cool between his legs, his own cock still so painfully hard that he wanted almost desperately to rub against that strong thigh until he came, regardless of the fact that he'd be coming inside his trousers like an inexperienced teenager.

As if Makoto could hear his thoughts, Ford felt him shift and press a little bit closer, cool hands sliding up under the back of his suit jacket and struggling to sneak under the neatly tucked in hem of his dress shirt to reach his bare skin.

"I want to fuck you," Makoto finally admitted, mouth against Ford's ear so the words went nowhere else. "I've never wanted someone so badly before, and I've had a lot of time for that to happen. It's like you're making me an addict."