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The hunger was the worst Bob had ever felt in his life. It was worse than bed without supper. Worse than waking up after a fever. Worse, even, then having any number of bones broken. It was a constant gnawing, churning ache, a pain that kept growing and growing until he was sure some strange creature was going to tear out of his skin. Bob knew pain like an old friend, but this was something worse, something terrible. His whole body hurt. His teeth HURT.
Bob thought for a moment that it must be how a junkie feels, then he heard the familiar footsteps, the soft coaxing words of his friend in the wind. He braced himself against the wall, feeling strength from that voice, and then Bucky was coming around the corner. The young man already had a hand under Bucky's shirt, nuzzling the side of his neck and nearly tripping over his feet. Bucky's eyes caught Bob's the moment he was in view, his arms moving from supporting the clinging stranger to holding him, turning him so that he was backing the young man into the shadows.
Into Bob's arms.
The stranger stiffened at the feeling of another man against his back, but Bucky's mouth was insistent, and Bob's hands knew just how to move, just how to touch. Bucky was a good teacher, after all, and soon the young man was leaning into Bob's chest, letting him hold all his weight as Bucky's mouth moved down his neck.
Whatever part of Bob that might have still protested fell completely silent as the touch of Bucky's hand on his cheek, the coaxing pressure that brought his lips to the man's neck. The air was spiced with arousal, cologne, and some strange alluring scent that made Bob nuzzle into the warm, sweaty skin. He could taste the trail of Bucky's hand down the human's skin, taste how it was differently from the hotly pulsing flesh, the rushing vein beneath. The ache in his teeth was too much, the need to bite, to tear, to drink.
The pressure against his jaw was a relief as he pierced skin. Hot salty-sweet burst in his mouth, first in a trickle and then in great spurts that filled his mouth and dribbled down his chin as he swallowed again and again. The boy moaned, and there was an answering growl from the other side as Bucky bit and thrust and pleasured the boy between them. The blood grew warmer, faster, more and more until Bob was nearly drunk on it.
And then the boy was torn from his grasp, the warm body replaced by something cooler, harder. Bob moved automatically to the neck, wanting more, wanting to taste it again, but Bucky was too strong. He held Bob's chin just centimeters from his skin.
"Not there. Unless you have to kill. Right here, to feed." Bucky moved his head forward and down, then let Bob sink back into flesh. The taste was different, something much more familiar and soothing, but it was still so good.
Bucky's hands on his body were like a secondary thing now, something that was oh, so good, but not necessary. All he needed was that taste in his mouth, the feeling of a body pressing into his, giving in...
And then Bucky's teeth pierced his neck, in that old familiar spot, and Bob was coming.
It wasn't that bad, being a vampire.