temperance, reversed (2025)

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“Okay, but why not?” Viktor asks, blue eyes staring holes into the other man’s skull. Eilhart shifts in his seat uncomfortably, his own gaze averted.

“I don’t want to —”

“— To hurt me?” Viktor cuts him off. “Seriously, Eil, I already agreed, didn’t I? A little nibble probably wouldn’t hurt.” He punctuates his words with a sip of his drink, a citrusy cocktail that had become a recent favorite of his. A stark contrast to the other man’s own drink, a cup of complimentary water that he’d been ignoring for the past hour or so.

“It’s - It’s not…right.” Eilhart says, sighing as he sinks into the cheap pleather cushions of the booth. “I don’t want to treat you like – like you’re just dinner.” He lowers his voice to a hush as he ends his sentence, voice barely audible amidst all the noise and chatter of the bar.

“...So you’re okay with treating other people like food, then?” The blonde asks, fingers toying with the rim of his drink. He can see Eilhart bristle in response, straightening his back as he fumbles over his words.

“No, I —”

Viktor leans back into his seat, the barest smirk settling on his lips as he keeps his eyes trained on Eilhart’s frazzled face. “I mean, at least I gave you my permission, right?”

“...Are you really going to be this stubborn about it?” Eilhart asks, brows furrowed. He toys with the cup in front of him, fingers disturbing the pool of condensation underneath it. “I — there are other ways of doing it without harming someone, you know.”

“Sure, sure.” Viktor says, waving him off. He pauses for a moment, before flashing him a seedy smile. “But I bet it feels good, no?”

Eilhart scowls. “...Seriously?”

“Come on. Just this once?”

“...No.”

“Please?”

“Absolutely not.”

Viktor scoffs. “This is the worst date I’ve ever been on.”

“...This isn’t even a date.”

“It’s called a joke, Eil.” He sighs, resting his elbows on the table. It’s somewhat sticky. “But I’m not exactly sure why you’d tell me all this and then expect me to do nothing about it.”

Eilhart returns his gaze, finally. He looks unsure. “I…I just wanted to be transparent with you. A warning, essentially.”

Viktor stays silent, letting the other man continue.

“And again, I don’t want to hurt you. What if I get carried away?” Brown fingertips tap anxiously against the cup, the now-lukewarm water still untouched.

The blonde shrugs. “You really think I’d let you get to that point?”

“...I don’t think you could stop it, were it to happen.”

Viktor rolls his eyes. “You worry too much, you know.”

“For a good reason, Viktor.” He could see Eilhart worry his lip in response, with the barest hint of a fang peeking out of his mouth. Viktor wonders how he’d never noticed that before. “I’ve seen it happen to others before. It’s not a pretty sight.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll back off.” He says, pouting. “But could we at least have some fun before the night ends? It’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other, after all.”

He watches Eilhart’s face closely as he waits for him to respond, his mouth twitching as he decides on what to say.

“...I suppose.” He can hear the exasperation in his voice.

Viktor smiles. “Good.”

He excuses himself momentarily to settle their bill before heading out, the cold night air greeting them as they make their way through the streets.

The blonde takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around the other man’s waist, pulling him closer as the two head over to his apartment.

He can see Eilhart shoot him an annoyed glare, but he makes no attempt to push him off.

“What?” Viktor asks, loosening his grip a little. “Embarrassed?”

“...You think?” Eilhart mumbles, eyes fixed on the street in front of the two.

“It’s not even the first time we’ve –”

“I know, I know. Just…” He tapers off, silent.

Viktor doesn’t press him further, and was, admittedly, already pushing it at this point. He didn’t really want to piss him off, as much as he enjoyed teasing the other man.

“...It’s fine.” He gives him a solid pat on the back, a gesture that the white-haired man seemed to perk up at. “We should be close by, anyway.” Viktor muses, quickening his pace.

–

He doesn’t waste time when they go inside. The moment the door locks shut, he pins Eilhart against the door, the other man’s hand already pressed against his chest in an attempt to maintain some distance between the two.

“...Can’t you wait until we’re past the foyer?” He asks, golden eyes staring against his own. “The couch is right there.”

“Think I’ve waited long enough,” Viktor sneers, dipping forward to capture his lips. Eilhart lets him, letting the blonde lead as his hand slides down to rest at Viktor’s side. Viktor takes the opportunity to pull Eilhart’s jacket off him, about to be left forgotten on the floor for the rest of the evening.

Viktor feels him straighten his back as the other man hesitantly parts his mouth, letting the blonde deepen the kiss without him even asking. He takes the opportunity to swipe his tongue against chapped lips, teasing flicks before going in to taste his tongue.

The distinct flavor of tobacco hits him, and not much else. He’s unsure if he’s disappointed at the lack of anything metallic but he supposes that the other man hadn’t fed for a while. He sets the thought aside, focusing instead on the other man’s reactions. He notes how still Eilhart is, his back rigid while the only movement from him is the occasional reciprocal kiss.

“Relax,” Viktor murmurs, and he feels Eilhart shakily exhale in response, the first breath he’d taken since the two entered the apartment. Viktor takes the opportunity to run his tongue against the other man’s teeth, looking for the fang that he’d seen earlier. He feels him tense up again, hands grasping at Viktor’s arms as if to stop him.

“Sharp,” he hears Eilhart mutter, worry present in his voice. He can feel his lips quivering. “C-careful.”

Viktor snickers, tongue toying with the sharp tip of the fang. Light enough to press against it, but not to puncture. “Don’t worry about it.” He briefly considers it. He feels Eilhart’s grip on him tighten, a hitched breath escaping his throat.

He withdraws from the kiss with a chuckle, eyes glued to Eilhart’s flustered face. He is once again averting his gaze, prompting Viktor to bring a hand up to caress the white-haired man’s face, turning it gently to make the other man make eye contact with him.

“Cute.”

Eilhart huffs, looking off to the side. “Viktor, seriously…”

“Just wanted to check,” he says, laughing.

He takes the opportunity to pull Eilhart deeper into the apartment before another complaint escapes his lips, their steps fumbling until they reach the bedroom. Viktor unceremoniously flops onto the bed, dragging the other man with him with a cheeky smile.

Viktor leans in towards the other man, mattress dipping as he cages him between his thighs. He places a firm hand on the priest’s chest, pushing him until he’s fully lying down on the bed.

“Just lie back and look pretty, yeah?” He says, earning him an eye roll from the other man. He presses a quick peck to his lips, shrugging off his sweater as the other man undoes the buttons on his own shirt.

He leers at the white-haired man’s body, solid and built despite the owner’s sickly visage. The blonde rests his hands on the other man’s thighs, dragging it up until his fingers are able to toy with the waistband of his pants.

“...I can do it myself,” Eilhart huffs. His own hands descend to undo the button on his pants. “You don’t have to.”

“Mmm, but I want to, though.” Viktor muses, taking the opportunity to hook his own fingers into the waistband of both his pants and his underwear, sliding the fabric off the other man’s thighs, raking his nails gently across sensitive flesh as he does so. He lets Eilhart kick both off once the two were past his knees, while the blonde takes the opportunity to grab and knead at the man’s now-bare behind.

He could see Eilhart furrow his brows in response, an irritated tsk escaping his lips. Either way, curious hands make their way past the cleft of his ass, a pale finger ghosting around the tight rim of his entrance. Viktor laughs as he feels it twitch as he teases it with light touches, before dipping his finger to shallowly breach the hole dry. He hears Eilhart hiss in response, prompting the blonde to pull out.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Bastard,” He hears Eilhart mutter under his breath.

“I’m joking, I’m joking.” Viktor laughs, placing an apologetic peck on the other man’s temple.

“...It’s going to hurt you more than it hurts me,” He says, trailing off as he nudges the blonde’s head away with his own, while his hands move to undo the blonde’s belt and button.

The blonde briefly opens his mouth to reply, but Eilhart quickly cuts him off, a stern edge to his voice. “Don’t even think about it.” He tosses him a tube from the nearby nightstand, then waits.

Viktor snorts, reaching down to pull Eilhart’s thighs apart, lifting one of his legs over his shoulder for easier access. The blonde makes a show out of lubing his cock, slow strokes and teasing fingers as to draw the other man’s attention. He watches golden eyes flicker back and forth from his cock to something else, unable to tear his own eyes from the display. “Better?” He asks, watching the other man swallow.

A low “Mmm,” is the only confirmation he gets before he closes in, nudging the tip of his cock against the other man’s tight rim. Holding his leg steady, he slides in, walls tight yet forgiving as he thrusts himself deeper and deeper without any major resistance. He lets out a groan the moment he fully sheathes himself, a dull warmth enveloping his cock with the occasional squeeze as Eilhart adjusts to the intrusion. To pace himself, he starts with slow, lazy thrusts, while his free hand gently caresses the other man’s thighs with each thrust.

Viktor takes the time to watch Eilhart’s face closely, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration while his once-sickly complexion flushes deliberately with apparent lust. His own eyes are drawn to the other man’s lips, quivering breaths being drawn out of his throat as he bites his lip in an attempt to stifle the sound. Not wasting the view, Viktor takes the opportunity to slide himself out of Eilhart’s passage, deliberately slow as to savor the feel of the man’s twitching rim on his cock, tempting him to sheathe himself within his depths again with each squeeze on his head.

With a grunt, he thrusts back into the white-haired man, cock once again enveloped by the faint warmth of reanimated muscle. A content groan escapes from the blonde’s mouth, hips picking up its pace, one hand gripping pallid skin as he holds the other man steady underneath him.

Blue eyes fixate on the other man’s mouth, drawn to the barest glimpses of a fang or two with each gasp timed with his own thrusts. He reaches down to brush his thumb against Eilhart’s mouth, watching his gold eyes open and flicker up to meet his own. He can see the worry build in the other man’s eyes, a smirk forming on his own face in return.

“What are you —”

“— Shh.” Viktor coos, cutting him off as he slides his thumb into the corner of his mouth, thumb hooking against his teeth before opening his jaw with a sudden jerk.

“Viktor – ah — ” Words come out partially garbled out of Eilhart’s mouth as he pulls himself up by the elbows to sit up to try and regain control over the situation. “Sto — stop it, seriously — ! “

With a solid grasp on his jaw, Viktor quickly finds one of his fangs, thumbing at it. He takes the opportunity to rake his thumb over the pointed tip, just light enough to scratch at the skin without drawing blood. He looks down to see Eilhart looking at him with panic in his eyes, his hand coming up to grasp at Viktor’s wrist in an attempt to stop him.

“D-don’t. Please.”

Eilhart begs, his grip on Viktor’s wrist tightening, but it doesn’t stop the blonde from pressing his thumb into the tip harder. It punctures with barely any resistance, blood beginning to pool at the edges. Viktor winces, but the look on the other man’s face was worth it. Golden eyes widening in shock, fingers digging into his wrist almost painfully, unsure if it wants to push his hand away or to pull it closer to him, to sink his teeth even deeper into the wound.

Viktor takes the opportunity to thrust his full length into the other man, drawing a deep groan from both of their throats. Viktor barely notices the puncture getting deeper and messier, the fang tearing up more of his skin due to the sudden movement from the two. He can feel the pain surging through his hand, but it’s quickly pushed to the back of his mind as a foggy wave of pleasure washes over him.

He could hear Eilhart moan, low and desperate, partially stifled by his thumb. He could feel his tongue desperately lapping against his thumb as more blood gets spilled from the worsening wound, fang still deeply embedded in it. He could feel him begin to rock his hips in time with each flick of his tongue alongside Viktor’s own languid thrusts as the two succumb to the sensations.

Viktor mutters a stifled “Fuck,” as he watches the view, eyes still fixated on the other man working his tongue against his thumb with such vigour that he hadn’t really expected to come from the other man. He feels his cock twitch as hazy golden eyes meet his own for a split second, looking up at him underneath the other man’s delicate white eyelashes. There’s a desperate look in his gaze that Viktor barely recognizes, only snapping out of his rutting-induced stupor when the other man withdraws his teeth from his thumb, eliciting a whine from the blonde.

Viktor leans down, letting him rest his head against his own clavicle, nose nuzzling against the nape of his neck. He could hear Eilhart whine, his nose sharply inhaling his scent as the constant thrum of his heartbeat tempts the man with each pulse.

“Don’t you want to?,” Viktor asks, words somewhat slurred, hips rocking sloppily against Eilhart’s own, the sound of skin on skin continuing to fill the humid room.

“...No,” Eilhart begs, words muffled as his own mouth betrays him, teeth lightly nibbling flushed skin in an attempt to stave off his own urges. “Viktor, no, please.” He repeats, his words strained as he shakes his head against his shoulder.

“Come on, Eil.” Viktor responds, breathy and vision hazy as he bucks into Eilhart once again, goading him into biting. “I know you want to.”

It takes a second or two but Eilhart’s resolve finally collapses, with Viktor letting out a deep groan as he feels the unmistakable feeling of the other man’s fangs sink into the tender flesh of his neck, a bolt of electricity shooting up his spine almost immediately. He lets his head limp down, mind unable to focus on anything but the mouth on his neck, the burning heat in his stomach and the ache on his cock. He barely registers Eilhart’s hand coming up to support his head, steadying his head as the other man feeds. All Viktor could do was snap his hips absentmindedly, driving himself deeper and deeper into the other man’s flesh, each thrust chasing after his own release.

A strong arm wraps around the blonde’s back, effectively pinning him against Eilhart as he desperately feeds, savoring each drop of blood from his veins like it were his only lifeline. Viktor could feel him bucking his hips desperately against his own while his mouth clamped on his neck, tongue desperately lapping up any spilled blood. Muffled groans escape from the Eilhart’s throat while he fucks himself on the blonde’s cock with an eagerness normally not seen from the white-haired man.

Viktor isn’t sure how long they were locked in that state for — but amidst the lightheadedness and the unmistakable feeling of flesh on flesh, he feels himself becoming undone, quickly. He barely hears Eilhart groan as his walls spasms around the blonde’s cock, his own orgasm ripping through his undead body as he draws the last bit of blood from the wound. It doesn’t take too long for Viktor to follow suit, a particularly loud moan leaving his lips as he finishes inside Eilhart, shuddering as he presses himself as deep as he could inside the other man, riding his orgasm in tandem with his’.

He doesn’t notice it when Eilhart withdraws his mouth from his neck, showering the bite with apologetic licks and kisses in an attempt to make up for the wound. An overwhelming dizziness overcomes the blonde, forcing him to let his head plop down onto the white-haired man’s shoulder, barely able to move. He can hear Eilhart ask him something, concern and guilt present in his voice, but Viktor struggles to focus on the words as the world spins around him, his body pulling itself into a particularly deep sleep.

---

Viktor wakes up with the sunlight shining on his face, filtered through the translucent blinds that frame the nearby window. An ache shoots through his head the moment he tries to sit up, earning himself a pained groan. Hands instinctively nudge the space beside him, finding nothing but the rustled sheets of his bed.

“...Huh.” He mutters, crusty eyes finding their way to a few brown stains on the white sheets. Small, dried flecks of blood, he thinks, with some smeared across the not-so-pristine fabric. He runs his hand across them, his fingers waiting for a tinge of pain that never comes. He could have sworn that he cut his thumb, somewhere.

He rubs idly at his eyes, scooting over against the edge of the bed to plant his feet onto the floor. He takes one look at his hands, spotting old scars and calluses. Nothing new or fresh.

He finally checks his nightstand. His phone rests idly on it, resting on top of a sheet of paper. He picks up his phone first, its screen informing him that he’d slept through his alarm. It was already eleven o’ clock, too late by his standards.

He sighs. At least it was a Sunday.

He picks up the note shortly after, remembering that it definitely was not there before he…passed out. It was an old receipt, from some convenience store whose name he could not read. The faded print on it made it illegible, most of it already missing due to the thermal ink fading over time.

He turns it over, eyes scanning the note scrawled on it. The handwriting was neat, albeit rushed, in generic blue ink.

Can’t stay. Sorry. - Eil

Viktor blinks at the note. Did he come over? He thinks, mind scrambling to figure out if he invited Eilhart over or not. He definitely remembers going out drinking with him — the image of that untouched glass of water was still stuck in his head — but bringing him home was something he wasn’t sure of.

He fiddles with the receipt, looking closely at his thumb as he runs it across the blue ink. It takes him a few seconds of scouring his memory before glimpses of the other man sprawled underneath his bulky frame surface from his memory, alongside the now-distinct memory of bloodied hands and honey gold eyes looking back at him with desperation.

Ah.

He sets the note down, head flopping back down to the nearest pillow. It wasn't exactly the first time he’d ended up too drunk to fully remember a late-night romp, but that was a memory he’d wish to have full recollection of. Getting Eilhart to agree on anything particularly exciting was rare — as prudish as he was (though now he knew why he’d been so…careful with him) — and he wishes he still had the memory for when the nights become too lonely for his liking.

He brushes a lock of bleached hair away from his forehead, mentally clearing out his evening schedule for later.

Time to go to Sunday mass, he supposes.

—

It’s seven o’ clock in the evening. He distinctly remembers Eilhart telling him off-handedly that he handled evening masses, something that finally made sense with his consistently nocturnal schedule.

His thoughts are interrupted as the bell rings throughout the modestly-sized church, muffling the idle chatter present in the air. Only a few churchgoers were in attendance, mostly scattered throughout the rows of pews. Viktor opts to take a seat closer somewhere in the middle, in a pew that already had some occupants in it.

It takes a few minutes before the bell stops ringing, signalling the start of the evening mass as the choir begins their opening hymns. He looks to the back, towards the small procession in the middle, scanning clergymen after clergymen until he spots the familiar face that he’d been looking for. As the procession continues, his target passes by his row without much acknowledgement, clad in white and purple, too bright and colorful as opposed to the usual gloomy attire that he normally wore.

He wasn’t really sure what to expect during the ceremony. He hadn’t set foot in a church in years since his son’s baptism, and he definitely has never heard — or seen — the other man preside over a mass in the few years that the two had known each other. He knew very well that he’d been screwing around with a priest, but he supposes that unholy acts by holy men wasn’t exactly a rare thing to come across.

For someone as soft-spoken as Eilhart, he was surprised to see him command such a presence at the altar. He could notice the other churchgoers listening in intently, a far cry from the usual bored crowd that he’d grown accustomed to. He’d normally space out during the readings, but he kept his ears trained on the other man’s voice as he read through passage after passage. Voice loud and clear, a stark contrast to the low and personal volume that he would normally speak in when the two were catching up at some dingy speakeasy, heads almost pressing together as they try to listen to each other amidst the noise and music.

He could feel eyes on him the moment the homily began. Their gazes briefly meet as Eilhart takes his place at the podium, recognition visible in his eyes from afar before he tears his eyes away to face the rest of the attendees. The sermon was nothing too special, not too long and digestible enough to maintain the small crowd’s attention. Viktor doesn’t remember too much of it.

The next time they lock eyes with each other is during communion. Viktor had briefly considered skipping it — no real reason for him to partake in it now, after all. Something about mortal sins, or whatever his mother had told him all those years back. But that was beyond him now. He couldn’t exactly say no to getting up close to his friend now, could he? He slinks past the pews to join the queue, lining up between a petite older lady and a somewhat sleepy-looking man.

When it’s his turn he’s met with a blink-and-you-miss-it scowl from the other man. Golden eyes look at him with a what the hell are you doing here? look. He sees him hesitate for a split second, hand on the eucharist hesitating before conceding to the blonde in silence.

“The body of Christ — “ Eilhart states, voice steady and professional, as if nothing had happened.

He readies the wafer in front of Viktor’s lips, awaiting his answer. The priest watches him with an unnatural stillness, golden eyes unblinking as he waits. Viktor deliberately takes a second too long to respond, giving the two enough time to lock eyes with each other in an awkward silence. Grey brows soon furrow in apparent irritation, its owner mouthing the word in an attempt to get the blonde to respond. Two simple syllables before the two could finally proceed with the ceremony.

Viktor smiles at him cheekily before — finally — relenting. He swears he could hear the other man grit his teeth.

“...Amen.”

Viktor lets his mouth hang open, sliding his tongue out a bit too far out of his lips almost provocatively. Golden eyes squint in response, unvoiced frustration showing through them. The priest continues as if nothing had happened, though, cold fingers gingerly placing the sacrament onto the other man’s mouth with a practiced grace. Fingers deliberately kept as far away as possible, ensuring that the only contact was between the wafer and the other man’s tongue.

Viktor briefly tilts his head forward, almost letting his lips touch the other man’s fingers. He intentionally misses by a few millimeters, before stepping away with a knowing smile. He can see the other man’s mouth twitch, holding that familiar scowl from surfacing.

Maybe next time he’ll try to nip at his fingers.

He makes his way back to his seat without much fanfare, watching as the priest continues with the ceremony. The queue quickly dissipates, and it doesn’t take too long until the ceremony comes to a close, with Eilhart giving out some announcements before wrapping everything up.

He takes a seat as he watches the churchgoers begin to stand up and leave after the concluding rites, hoping to catch Eilhart alone afterwards He looks at his phone to check the time, fully expecting some of the pious churchgoers to come up and talk to the priest before he could get some time alone with him. To his surprise, the small crowd quickly dissipates in an orderly fashion, leaving the two alone after a few short minutes.

“...Viktor,”

The voice calling to him reverberates throughout the walls of the church, immediately drawing his attention to the man walking closer to him.

Viktor stands up in response, shuffling out of the pew as he meets up with the grey-haired man. Eilhart stops a few steps away from the blonde, staring at him in apparent frustration.

Viktor opens his mouth to greet him, but gets cut off almost immediately.

“ — When was the last time you even went to confession?” Eilhart asks, arms crossed.

Viktor blinks at him momentarily, his response catching him off guard.

“I went all the way here and that’s the first thing you talk to me about?” He ends his sentence with a laugh.

“...Nevermind.” Eilhart mutters, blowing a strand of hair away from his face. He immediately changes the topic. “Is this about last night?”

“Mhm.” Viktor hums affirmatively, stepping closer towards him.

“...Look — I — forget about it. I’m sorry. I can’t let that happen again.” He stammers, averting his eyes.

“Sorry for what?” Viktor asks, an eyebrow quirked in confusion. “The sex? Now why would I —”

Eilhart raises a hand to stop him, gritting his teeth as he shushes him immediately, eyes briefly scanning the halls of the church for any possible eavesdroppers. It’s empty, thankfully.

“...Not the — no, not that. Don’t you remember?” He huffs. “The — the hand thing.” Eilhart’s voice drops to a whisper, barely perceptible to the other man.

“...I do,” Viktor muses, nodding. “Well, almost. It’s the vam—’

One syllable in and the words die on his tongue almost immediately as his eyes drift towards the other man, stunned as an irrational fear begins clawing at the edge of his mind.

Before he could even process it, he watches as golden eyes shift from an unreadable expression to that of worry, his own mind clearing up in the process within a few moments.

“S-sorry, I — God, fuck, I shouldn’t have…” Eilhart sighs, shoulders slumping as his words trail off. He continues before Viktor could say a word in. “...But, yes. It is about 'that'.”

It takes him a moment, taking the chance to recollect himself and to ignore the remnants of that creeping fear in his mind.

“Well I definitely didn’t mind it. No reason for me to be afraid, after all.” A shaky laugh escapes his throat anyway.

A rightful scowl returns on Eilhart’s previously frazzled face. “Viktor, you just were.”

Viktor scoffs. “Bullshit.” He was, but he dodges the accusation regardless.

“Look, Viktor, it’s — it’s best if we don’t do anything like 'that' again.”

“Mmm. What if I say no?”

“Viktor.” There’s that threatening edge again.

“As far as I’m concerned it was mutually beneficial.” Viktor muses. His body recalls the numbing feeling of the bite, earning him a slight shudder running through his back. He quickly pretends to crack his neck to hide it.

He’s pretty sure that Eilhart had noticed, who, in turn, groans in frustration.

“Only at first,” He says, crossing his arms . “Anything after is a huge risk. To you.” He punctuates his point with a finger pointing square at Viktor’s chest, finger dipping into the fabric of other man’s turtleneck.

Viktor shrugs. “Then just stagger it for a few weeks? Shouldn’t be that bad if it’s a once — or twice — a month thing.”

“...This is exactly what I was worried about.” Eilhart brings a hand up to his head, fingers massaging a nonexistent ache on his temple. “I feel like we keep going in circles about this. Are you this insistent with everyone you bed?”

Viktor shrugs. “I’m just saying that this…setup sounds a lot more ‘ethical’ than whatever alternative you’re currently doing.”

“You don’t know that.” He looks pissed.

“Eilhart, I’m pretty sure the first time we met was a failed attempt at doing that to me without my knowledge. At least this time around I’m actually consenting.”

The priest flinches. Bingo.

Viktor rests his hands on his hips, before letting out a smug huff. “See?”

It takes Eilhart a moment before responding.

“I — come on, it’s not sustainable.” He’s conceding. Viktor tries to hide his smirk. “From a medical standpoint, that is.”

“Ah. So you’ve thought about it, then. Then this little squabble of ours could have been sorted out much, much earlier.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” He definitely did consider it.

Viktor rolls his eyes. “How often do you need to anyway?”

“...Ideally, every other day. Maybe twice a week, at best.” Eilhart mentions, licking his lips nervously. “I’ve tried only…indulging once a week, to put it simply. It did not end well.” There’s a pained look in his eyes.

“...Too often, then.” Viktor gets tempted to ask what happened. Maybe later. “My offer still stands, though. Once — not twice — a month, if you’re so concerned about it.”

The priest sighs, running a hand through his hair. The once-neat ponytail gets disheveled, somewhat.

“...Are you sure you want to risk your life for a godforsaken orgasm, Viktor?”

“Better risk it from you than at the hands of some pissed-off plaintiff. At least I actually like you.”

Eilhart lets out one final groan, defeated. “...Fine. Whatever. Do what you want, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Viktor smiles. “Next month, then?”

“Only for emergencies.”

“Boo.” Viktor pouts, before laughing. At least he has something to look forward to, now.

“But promise me one thing —” Eilhart’s voice drops to a lower, more serious tone.

“Mm?”

“...If anyone else offers the same thing to you — don’t. Please.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Viktor gives him a cheeky grin, but it does little to quell the priest’s anxieties. He looks like he’s having a migraine.

“I mean it.”

“...Trust me.”

There’s an unsure look in Eilhart’s eyes. Before he could respond, the priest nods, finally conceding to the blonde.

“Good.”

-–

A/N: i’m kind of subscribing to the idea that eil probably can’t normally cum (as in, like, ejaculation) and has like. something similar to dry orgasms instead.

...to properly cum w/ ejaculate he’d probably have to like deliberately rouse his vitae to his dick to make it in advance. but also i don’t think that “ah jeez i gotta prepare cum beforehand” is like on his list of “things to make yourself look Not Dead" either. nor is he really expecting to be dtf 24/7 anyway so 😭

Also unnecessary catholic tidbits (i can finally use the shit i learned after languishing in catholic schools for over a decade): this is uhhhhh is set in roughly march. purple stole = lent aka feb/march. honestly the worst time for the two to be fuckin and feeding at least from eil’s perspective

also as per catholic rules™️ you can’t take communion without going to confession first. Buuuut also they can’t really, like, check, yknow.