Slashy, weird little thing that just happened somehow. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: None of this is mine.

Vlad couldn't say where the thought had come from.

He wasn't a blood-thirsty vampire; that wasn't who he was, he'd made sure everyone knew that over the last few years. He'd rather fall on a stake than sink his fangs into warm, succulent flesh – he closed his eyes, frustrated. Alright, so the bloodlust still crept up on him sometimes, but that didn't mean anything, and nor did the fact that lately he always wanted to bite the same breather; a breather he knew full well didn't exist.

Still, in the safety of his own coffin, he couldn't help letting his mind wander. He closed his eyes and dreamt of dark streets, a curly-haired young man walking stiffly ahead of him, no doubt off to do something dull he didn't really want to do and hope that there'd be time for reading later. Vlad could give him that time; he could give him eternity.

It would be easy to take him, just get in close behind him and sink his fangs in before he'd even realised what had happened. But Vlad didn't want to do that. He could drag him into the nearest alleyway and drain him dry before he even had chance to scream. He didn't want to do that, either. Instead, he caught up with the breather and, without looking at him, murmured "Take the next left and meet me in the park."

It didn't matter how often he dreamed the same scenario, he always tensed as he walked away, hoping against hope that the breather obeyed him, even though he had no reason to do so. It was always a relief when he turned to find the young man walking towards him.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" Those fathomless blue eyes never failed to make him moan, the other man's eyes narrowing as he factored the noise into his assessment of the situation.
"Do you want to know me?"

The other man licked his lips, and Vlad forced himself to keep his face straight, eyes fixed on the involuntary gesture. The answer, when it came, was barely more than a ragged whisper.
"Yes." The breather inhaled deeply. "I'm Bertrand-" Vlad raised a finger to the other man's lips.
"I don't need your name." Then he grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him in for a kiss that bordered on brutality. Bertrand clutched at him, apparently enjoying Vlad's predatory behaviour, as the vampire gradually moved from his mouth to kiss his neck, sucking wetly at the pulse point, arguing with himself. Bertrand moaned, and the noise made the decision for him; Vlad's fangs plunged into his throat and the vampire sensed, rather than saw, the way his eyes widened in horror.

He stayed with him long after he'd pulled his fangs back and licked the last of the blood from his lips, running a hand through his hair until he stirred. The man sat up, disorientated, and those piercing eyes fixed on Vlad again.
"What did you do?"
"I made you immortal. Like me." Even in a dream, it was satisfying to be more knowledgable than Bertrand du Fortunesa. He flashed his fangs, and Bertrand frowned.
"Why?"

His eyes flew open and he launched himself from the coffin, suddenly on a mission to find his tutor. He didn't even bother knocking; it was early enough that Bertrand would still be awake, reading or researching some new obscure piece of lore to ruin Vlad's life with.
"Vlad?" Sure enough, he was at his desk, and it was the work of moments for the Chosen One to cross the room and straddle his lap.
"I need to tell you. I wish I was the one who'd bitten you. I know it's stupid, but I keep dreaming about it, biting you, and it's… it's just really hot, Bertrand, I wish I could make you mine that way."

His tutor stared at him, dumbfounded; Vlad couldn't really blame him. In the several months they'd been seeing each other, they'd never really discussed fantasies or wishes. Now Vlad was all over him, telling him he wished he'd killed him. Oh, blood; put like that it sounded awful. He was about to apologise when Bertrand did something unexpected.

He pushed Vlad off his lap, so that they could both stand, then lowered himself carefully to his knees and tilted his head, exposing his neck. Vlad didn't react, immediately, too busy wondering what on earth his tutor was thinking.
"You can bite me, Vlad. Let's do this properly." The Chosen One blinked and his tutor sighed. "I'm yours. If you want to see that, if you want to feel it, then I'll do all I can-" Vlad's tongue flashed out to moisten his lips and he dropped to his own knees in front of his tutor.
"I'm yours too, Bertrand, I don't need to-"
"I want you to." The urgency in Bertrand's voice caught him off-guard and he fell silent. "I've been dreaming about you since the moment I met you, dreaming of you marking me as your own. Your fangs in my flesh-" Vlad kissed him; he needed to stop him talking, just for a moment, so he could think, so he could control himself.

"Bertrand-" His tutor glanced up from beneath his eyelashes, a tiny smile quirking the corner of his mouth upwards.
"You don't need my name." It was as if he was following the motions of a dance he'd learnt by heart as he pulled his lover closer by his shirt and kissed him, trailing his lips down his neck until, as his tongue caressed the cold skin, Bertrand made a tiny wanting noise. Vlad felt his fangs descend and barely hesitated, burying them in Bertrand's throat as if there was actually blood pumping underneath the man's skin.

Bertrand clutched at his back, never moving away from the pain of the bite, and Vlad pulled back to soothe the wounds with his tongue. Bertrand gazed at him, as they both knelt on the floor, with that same adoring expression he'd turned on him for so long. Vlad ran a hand through his tutor's hair and sighed contentedly.
"Mine." Bertrand nodded solemnly.
"Entirely." Vlad bit his lip, relieved when Bertrand leant forward to take over the task. When they broke apart, the Chosen One could only think of one thing to say.
"…Why?"