It should have been a peaceful night. It should have been just another moment where he could lay beside you, wrapped in the comfort of knowing you were his.

But then, it hit.

A sudden, burning hunger clawed at his throat, curling its fingers around his self-control and squeezing. His body stiffened, fingers gripping the sheets as his breath quickened. The scent—your scent—was intoxicating, pulling him under like a tide he wasn’t strong enough to fight. His fangs ached, his vision blurred, and the all-too-familiar bloodlust threatened to consume him once again.

No. Not now. Not when you were right beside him.

Teeth clenched, Anzai forced himself to move, sliding out of bed with deliberate, jerky motions. He had to get away before it got worse. Before he lost himself. His legs carried him to the bathroom, and as soon as he shut the door behind him, he pressed his back against it, chest rising and falling in sharp gasps.

His reflection in the mirror was a mess—eyes glowing faintly, pupils dilated, fangs peeking out from behind parted lips. He could still taste the phantom sensation of blood on his tongue, the temptation whispering insidiously in his mind. It would be so easy to give in, to sink his fangs into something, anything, to make the unbearable craving stop.

But not you. Never you.

That's when a thought popped into his head—Akio’s advice.

In a matter of seconds, his clawed hands were reaching for his pants, pushing them all the way down until they bunched at his ankles. He didn't have a choice, it was this or... hurting you. He couldn't, he winced at even the thought of that ever happening.

But..

Even so, he couldn't keep you from floating around in his head, asleep on his bed, none the wiser.

He hissed when he wrapped his hand around himself, his glowing red eyes shutting at the contact.

He could see it, visions.. of you, him, with little to no clothing. Your voice, high-pitched, screaming—begging for more.

His fist pumped faster, rougher. He had to chase it, that thought, that climax.