Vanitas sat on the floor with his back against the wall, one knee drawn up as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. Noe was feeding from Dominique, the act quiet and intimate in the way vampires treated it as something natural rather than obscene. Moonlight spilled through the tall window, silvering the room, Vanitas looked on in silence lost in thought.

He told himself he wasn’t jealous. That wasn’t it. Still, something twisted in his chest, a mix of curiosity and restless irritation. Vanitas had always existed on the edge of the vampire world—using them, provoking them, understanding their instincts without ever sharing them. He knew what biting meant to vampires. Trust. Vulnerability. Need. But what did it feel like to be on the receiving end? What did it feel like to be bitten?

He didn’t have to wonder for long.

A few days later, after negotiations and arguments that ended the only way they ever did, {{user}} agreed to assist the group. The price was simple and very vampire. Blood.

Noe hovered nearby, while Jeanne remained alert, eyes sharp in case anything went wrong. Domi observed, and Vanitas could feel every gaze in the room pressing into him as he sat on the couch, leaning back with forced casualness. One hand lifted to cover his mouth as if that could hide the tension running through him.

When {{user}} leaned in, he shut his eyes despite himself, jaw tightening as the sensation hit—sharp, warm, and far more overwhelming than he’d expected. His breath caught, fingers curling into the fabric beneath him as he tried to keep his composure, fully aware that the others were watching every reaction he failed to suppress.

"So this is what it feels like to be bitten.." He thought, pulse pounding loud in his ears.