Written for Mastar Week 2020
Day 5: Blood and Iron

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Maka caught BlackStar crouched on the floor, on the verge of becoming a beast. When she approached him, his condition seemed worse, not better. His voice was scratchy and coarse, eyes crazed with longing for the unobtainable. He flinched from her touch, and it hurt her far more than his own pain.

What she didn't know was that his torment stemmed from what he deemed to be forbidden. It was a secret only known to his world: only the blood of a lover could quell a vampire's throat forever. For years he suffered through, bitterly and pettily. Every time she approached, BlackStar caught himself wanting, and every time she left, he restrained himself from pulling her back.

Maka was special in the way that other humans weren't. She treated all beings as equals, though they never worked to deserve it. She opened her doors to a dying boy and wrapped him up in her own small blanket like she was addicted to danger, like she thrived off the ignorance. Even after she became a woman, she placed herself where others could see her. To protect the weak, she said. As if vampires needed her protection.

It took everything he had to withdraw from her. Someone who lived in the light shouldn't stay within the dark. Someone as good as she shouldn't be near a monster like him.

When she touched his shoulder anyways, BlackStar went still. He held onto himself so that he wouldn't lash out at her fragile hand. Maka squeezed him tenderly on one side and boldly reached to do the same to the other, rubbing his tense muscles that shivered under her fingers. Under his thin shirt, he felt cold to her. It was unlike the burst of heat that always flooded her when he was near.

Maka walked to his front, trailing the length of his arm, and knelt where he sat, forcing him to look her in the eyes. Behind his stone stare was a hunger she'd never known. It warped his otherwise handsome face to something she didn't like. She held his cheek as softly as she could when suddenly his hand darted up to cover hers, pressing her closely against him. He scrunched his eyes shut and bent to where she held herself, breathing heavily. Reserved.

She had known for a short while that he was a vampire, and though she didn't understand what happened, he told her before that he was one all along. BlackStar's human life ended already when they met for the first time in the snow and when Maka warmed him by the fireplace. But as he grew older, his appetite could no longer be held off by tomato juice or blood tablets. Eventually, his tastes matured and his body craved the final key to his transformation.

He needed to drink human blood lest he turned to dust.

Different from the other times she'd offered herself, Maka knelt in front of him more ardently than before. He suffered unnecessarily at his own guilt, even if he tried desperately to show otherwise. In an act of mercy, she said to him:

Consume me.

BlackStar finally looked at her fully, though in horror. He was no monster like the storybook villains who let go of their morality. No monster who lurked the streets for another meal. No monster like the pure blood who murdered his family and started him down an unholy path.

However, he was beyond the point of salvation. He removed her hand and dragged her wrist to the side of his mouth, maddened by her fragrance. He turned to touch it, and he asked if she was sure into her skin.

Maka confirmed, of course, that she was. She wanted to be brave for him, to cure his illnesses and to protect the boy she'd always known. She bent her wrist backwards to show her veins that stretched from her arm, trying hard to not shake.

Once she was in sight, BlackStar could feel his fangs sharpen. It was just as uncomfortable as the first time; his teeth felt like they weren't his, like they were sore and prone to falling out unless he clamped them down. Similarly, his eyes grew red and slit vertically like a nightmare's incarnation. In the reflection of Maka's own green eyes, he saw his physical changes.

He didn't like that at all.

BlackStar gathered Maka roughly, freeing her arm but taking her body hostage instead. He turned her around so that she couldn't see him, curving himself against her back, panting from the itch of thirst that tempted him further. She had a flash of fear seen from the side of her face and it drove him to shame, but in a move he could only describe as tantalizing, she closed her eyes and craned her neck in acceptance. She slumped a shoulder to the side and her collar slipped down. Though Maka held her breath, she swallowed her nerves until she went still in his hands, waiting.

He smelled her sweet blood and the aroma laced him further. How anyone withstood Maka's magnetism confounded BlackStar, and he parted his mouth unwillingly. As soft as he could, he sank his fangs into her throat and sighed when she moaned wonderfully. He could imagine how she feels in the moment. Vulnerable, trapped. And euphoric, maybe. She clutched his thigh desperately while she sat between them. She strained to push him into her dripping veins further, wanting not just his teeth but also his lips.

Fogged by the quelling, he latched to her soundly, echoing her own pleasure while he drank not just her blood, but herself as well. Maka arched upwards in vain; BlackStar kept a steady arm around her torso, not allowing her to interrupt him until he was satisfied. But oh, was he anything else. He dragged his tongue over her supple skin and exhaled soundly when she did as well. Her chest pressed against his arm that crossed over her chest, searching for a brace to hold her still. For comfort, perhaps.

Instead, she was met with his loathing brought forth by his disgusting greed. He managed her coldly, not tenderly like she expected. Like a drunken man, she was a bottle that he wanted to drain dry.

He angled her chin with his free hand, loosening his bite until he returned again with more force like he was angry at himself for letting go too soon. Maka cracked her eyes open, and all she could see on his face that peaked from behind her was a deep release. Her blood sated him, yes, but it unlocked an even greater threat that she couldn't hope to escape from.

Of course he couldn't notice that Maka was also indulgent. She trembled when she sensed his feral eyes graze over her body occasionally, trapping her to him and ensuring she couldn't leave. She wondered if he knew how the thrill delighted her, how long she anticipated his untamed surrender. Eventually, she relaxed and let herself go freely, like he'd taken her stress away and left gratification in its place. It must have pleased him to feel the shift because he drank more fiercely, taking longer gulps from her neck.

Maka rolled her head backwards and onto the shoulder that she caressed not long ago. She strained against him, back against his heaving chest. With every lap of blood he took, the pair matched in breath. With every suck and every pulse, they dispelled the rest of the world until only their relief was left.

She distantly felt him slow once he had his fill. Her eyes drooped heavily while her loss took its toll. He, too, felt softer in how he held her— much less like prey but more like she was a wonder.

The hand that so aggressively tilted her head before cradled her sweetly, comfortably. His breath that rocked both their lungs felt more like wisps she could thread and lace around hers. And his final groan of victory came from his soul, full and satisfied by Maka's doing.

BlackStar stopped his feverish consumption finally, dazed, but still with some sentience. With his lips still on her neck, he paused to rest, then carefully licked her wounds with the intent to soothe. Once his fangs retreated, his saliva closed the area where he once was. It would still leave a bit of bruising, but instinct told him to do at least that. He heard her mewl slightly just before finishing.

When he let go, Maka gave him an unconscious sound of protest. She gasped at the chilled air against her still wet skin and the shock made her seek him for the warmth she wanted. And she found it at last.

He hugged her close and buried his face back into where he left. She thought she felt a kiss there when he came, but surely, she must be mistaken. They were nothing more than two friends who went too far, she reminded herself, though difficult to accept. They were just a boy who needed blood to live and a girl who gave that to him.

Maka felt him pull her to the ground with his arms still loosely around her. She went with him because she was also the same, tired and spent. Usually, a youngling would run off to complete their transformation alone, falling into a vulnerable but deep slumber for a few restful hours. Though Maka knew of this, she was still grateful— after all, he'd allowed her to stay with him, even if he didn't intend it.

She kept him there when she tucked her hands under her head, joining his unwilling sleep on his bedroom floor. She curled in a way to match his own position with her back once again to his chest. Letting his steady breathing control hers again, she closed her drowsy eyes and emptied her mind to be with him.

There, they recovered, and there, BlackStar was at peace.

For the first time in years, his thirst was quenched by the one he loved.