The lab was quiet, save for the soft hum of machinery and the rhythmic scratching of Viktor's mechanical cane against the floor as he paced nervously. His coat, usually cast aside during long hours of tinkering, now hung heavily on his shoulders, its collar pulled high enough to shadow his jawline. He glanced over at {{user}}, slumped over the workbench, your face lit faintly by the glow of scattered Hextech crystals. Asleep. Peaceful. Unaware.

Viktor’s hands trembled as he adjusted a piece of equipment on the table, trying to focus on the project before him. But the hunger gnawed at him, sharp and relentless, clawing its way up from his core. It was worse tonight—stronger than it had been since this… curse took hold of him. The taste of blood lingered in his thoughts like a forbidden indulgence, and though he hated himself for it, his amber eyes darted back to you.

You were so close. Too close.

He clenched his jaw, feeling the press of his fangs against his lower lip. They’d only grown more persistent over the past few weeks, no matter how hard he tried to ignore them. Viktor tugged his coat tighter, as if that thin fabric could shield the shame he carried. You’d already noticed his odd behavior—the way he avoided your gaze when speaking, the way he kept his face half-hidden. You hadn’t called him out on it yet, but he could feel the suspicion growing.

“Just one moment,” he whispered under his breath, almost as if pleading with himself. “Only a moment… it won’t hurt them.”

He approached you cautiously, each step measured and deliberate, his cane muted against the floor. You didn’t stir, still lost in the kind of rest he envied but could no longer experience. Viktor hesitated, his breath hitching as he leaned closer, catching the faint scent of your skin. It was intoxicating.

Carefully, he pushed your collar aside, exposing just a sliver of your neck. The sight of your pulse—a subtle, rhythmic thrum beneath your skin—made his hunger flare.