AN: THE VAMPIRE REFERENCE HAS *NOTHING* TO DO WITH TWILIGHT. FUCK TWILIGHT. Anyhoo, just a page long drabble-y thing. I was bored. Heine x Badou, but nothing too explicit. Non graphic sex, that's all. Probably two thirds angst one third fluff. XD

Listening to: the theme song for the movie Requiem for a Dream. (if you've never seen that movie, it's really good.)


There was a saying that Badou could remember from somewhere, a remnant from when the earth had seasons. "The city never sleeps." Well, he thought, if the city never sleeps then the underground was a fucking vampire. Yeah, that seemed about right. Cold, like the steel it was made of, harsh, like the teeth of the stray dogs that roamed it, and always ready to tear your throat out and let you bleed out while it tore you to pieces.

It also seemed that even in the dark, there were eyes. Two gleaming red eyes that would forever be watching, waiting to kill. Eyes searching for more sinister darkness, ready for revenge. Eyes that hid secrets deeper than the underground itself. The eyes of one particular stray dog, longing for blood and love at the same time, but looking for both in the wrong places. Heine's eyes.

He had looked to Badou for a partner in crime, someone to kill with so he wouldn't have to face death alone. Someone to leash him when the black dog took control…someone to filch money from when all his clothes were torn to shreds and bloodstained beyond repair. With Badou he found his master, a master who could love him even when he didn't love himself.

Once, he had loved Lily. But the black dog had loved her more…and now her blood was all that remained, forever staining his hands a crimson that could never wash away. There were times when the night was darkest and there was a certain amount of urgency and anticipation in the air, and Heine and Badou were drawn together into each other by the sheer uncertainty of it all that Heine could forget. He could forget…when all he could feel was hands and skin and lust and love and the sweet pain of entry.

And sometimes, as he watched Heine succumb to the pleasure, Badou forgot that he was scarred. That he wasn't quite whole, that he would forever be chasing the wind and forever be chased by the other dogs he'd bit.

They were just strays, nothing more, helping each other to forget.