🐺 Dominic's POV
Agh! Fuck! My head—
It's still so heavy, like some elephant doing gymnastics on it. My skull's pounding. My throat's dry. My tongue tastes like I licked a campfire and regret.
Huh?!
Where… where am I?
*Blink. Blink*
Okay. My living room. My couch. My rug. My shattered pride.
What the hell happened last night?
And—
Why is something cold and sticky clinging to me?
I shift and freeze.
Because the "something" currently attached to me like a sleepy koala is none other than Lean.
Lean.
My chaos gremlin. My headache in vampire form. My personal apocalypse.
He's hugging me.
Correction: he's nuzzling my chest like I'm a damn teddy bear. His lips are parted just enough to let out tiny snores and shiney fangs poking out.
And—
is that—
drool?
There's drool on my abs.
Actual drool.
I blink down at the glittery menace, who's half-buried in my blanket with me, and there it is—his perfect disaster of hair sparkling in the morning light like Christmas ornaments thrown in a blender.
…
Wait.
WAIT.
WHY AM I—
I yank the blanket away, look down, and—
"WHAT THE—WHY AM I NAKED!?"
I shoot up so fast that Lean lets out a confused "mhhrrp?" noise before rolling onto his back and promptly flopping face-first into the carpet.
Poor bastard's still asleep. Probably dreaming about biting someone.
Meanwhile, I'm standing there like an idiot—hungover, dizzy, and very, very aware that I am stark. freaking. naked.
And because apparently fate hates me, my tail decides now is a great time to wag.
"Not now, you traitorous fluff noodle!" I growl, grabbing the huge wolf tail and yanking it around in front of me, clumsily wrapping it between my thighs like some desperate fig leaf coving my last scrapof dignity.
I can feel my ancestors judging me.
Deep breath. Okay, okay, damage control.
What the hell happened?
Last thing I remember—Ray's Christmas party. Lean spilling glitter everywhere. Shots. A lot of shots. I turned into wolf??
Then him dragging me home because apparently I'd decided gravity was optional.
Then… a blur. Heat. Fur.
And—
Oh. Oh no.
My stomach drops. I remember… fragments. Words. Me babbling. Maybe saying something I shouldn't have.
"I love you," I'd said, hadn't I?
Oh, kill me now.
What...what is this crispy stuff on my waist....FUCK DID I CUMMMMMMMMMM....
Nah..I am gonna burry myself now! What the hell did I Do with him last night!! Did...did I FUC— No...NO he wouldn't have been sleeping so nicely if we did, definitely his ass would be burning...then did he FUC—...No..I got Fucked by a Vampire Twink....wait I dont feel anything maybe nothing happened I am just overthinking. Cool down Domi..shee..ok yes deep breath...
I peek down at the mess of vampire on my floor. He's smiling in his sleep. That soft, peaceful, "I survived chaos" kind of smile.
And he's covered in… oh gods, no, don't think about it.
I'm going to throw myself into the nearest lake.
"Lean," I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose, "you absolute menace."
He stirs, mumbling something unintelligible about "furry pillows" and "hot wolves," then goes still again.
I stare at him for a moment. My brain says, run. My heart says, stay.
And I hate that the second one's winning.
Sighing, I grab the throw blanket from the couch, crouch down, and carefully drape it over him. His nose twitches as the warmth settles around him.
"…Merry Christmas, wolfie," he mumbles in his sleep.
My chest stutters. Once.
Twice.
I look away, pretending I didn't hear that, pretending my stupid heart didn't just do a cartwheel.
"Idiot vampire," I mutter under my breath, turning toward the bathroom. "You're lucky I'm too tired to eat you."
And with that, I limp away—hungover, tail still clutched like a fuzzy shield, dignity long dead somewhere back at Ray's party.
RAY YOU ARE DEAD!
🧛♂️Lean's POV:
Ugh… my face hurts. What the hell—did someone throw me off a cliff in my sleep?!
I smack my lips, tasting something faintly like whiskey and regret, and scratch through my curls. Everything's… weirdly quiet. Then—
"FUCKING HELL!! RAY I will Make Sausages of You and Dip them in mayo and gulp it down!!! FUCKING IDIOT I TOLD HIM NOT TO KEEP ALCOHOL NEAR ME!!"
—oh. Never mind. The screaming has begun.
It's coming from the bathroom. Sounds like someone just discovered the concept of shame for the first time.
And that someone… is definitely Puppers. Anyway where I am? Why is he screaming like getting murdered.
My brain boots up like an ancient laptop. Images flood back—moonlight, laughter, a lot of touching, a lot of touching, slick, kisses, fur, grumpy wolf! Sweat! STICKY MOTIONS —oh sweet Dracula. My eyes drift toward my jeans, and there it is. The lower half of my shirt is… crispy. Crispy. I stare at it like it's evidence in a crime scene. Which, honestly, it kinda is.
"What am I gonna do?" I mumble, clutching my hair. "He's gonna murder me. He's gonna throw me out. He's gonna bite me—actually, that last one's kinda hot—no! Focus!"
I start pacing like a maniac, rehearsing excuses. "Dom, it was an accident." "Puppers, you started it." "Dom, we were both drunk no you were drunk and hot and I am just a gay Boy I couldn't resist and emotionally compromised—"
Finally, I can't take it. I drop to my knees dramatically, tears already threatening, and wail, "WHY DOES FATE HATE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE LIKE ME?!"
I'm mid-snotty sob when the bathroom door creaks open.
And there he is. Dominic Quinn. Towering. Wet. Shirtless. His towel hanging dangerously low, water droplets sliding down his chest, and—dear Big G—even his nipples are glistening.
He blinks at me like he's walked into a fever dream.
I sniff loudly, half crying, half dying inside.
"Good morning," I croak, voice breaking like a teen in puberty.
He just stares.
"Come to the table in half an hour! We have something to talk!" And he just rushes out his room.
Yup He will be Kicking me out! I am gonna be Homeless, waha...whahaa... (dramatic vampire crying noises).
🐺 Dominic's POV
I sit at the table, arms crossed, one leg tapping against the wooden floor.
The rhythmic thump-thump-thump matches the pounding in my head — part hangover, part emotional chaos.
Fresh clothes: plain gray T-shirt, loose joggers. Hair still damp from the shower. I'm trying to look composed, but internally? I'm a whole circus juggling regret, amusement, and the faint memory of a vampire drooling on my abs and cheeks.
Then—
Hesitant footsteps.
And there he is.
Vamps.
Face-down.
Like a guilty puppy who just peed on the carpet of life.
Wild bedhead halo, watery eyes, wrinkled shirt, jeans half-buttoned — he looks like sin, stupidity, and bad decisions wrapped in sparkles.
I deepen my voice, arms still folded.
"Sit."
He freezes.
Then — in less than half a second — he flops to the floor, clinging to my leg like I'm the last lifeboat on the Titanic.
"I'm suy! I wbon't bo ut again! Ple don't kuck mo ou!"
(Translation, for the mortals: "I'm sorry! I won't do it again! Please don't kick me out!")
Oh for fuck's sake—
My lips twitch. Don't laugh, Dominic. Don't you dare laugh. He's dramatic, not funny. He's—okay, maybe a little funny.
All snotty and puffy like a baby pufferfish, water leaking from probably every hole. Pfft... how can he be so cute and adorable all the damn time?
He's sobbing. Like, full-on ugly crying. His nose is sniffling against my knee. There's snot. Actual snot.
Do I care? Nah — I've basically tasted that at this point.
I press my lips together, puff out a breath, and glare down at him.
"Sit. On the chair."
He scrambles up like a startled squirrel and practically leaps onto the chair on all his fours like a mud soaked golden retriever, still hiccuping and trembling like he's awaiting divine judgment.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, lean back, and sigh.
Alright. Let's have some fun.
"You have exactly five minutes to explain everything," I say, voice deep and deliberate.
"Speak. Without sobbing. And without spitting on my face with your drool and snot."
He nods rapidly, like a kid caught stealing cookies.
"Okay. Your time starts—"
Click. Stopwatch on.
"—now."
The poor idiot looks like he's about to pass out.
Meanwhile, I'm dying inside trying not to smile.
Because truth is — I'm not mad.
Not even close. I'm just as flustered and mortified as he is.
Last night was chaos, sure. But seeing him now, clumsy and panicked and so Lean…
Yeah.
It's kinda hard to stay grumpy when the idiot who crashed into your life keeps making you want to laugh.
Alright, glitter bomb, I think, leaning back, hiding my smirk.
Let's hear your version of the apocalypse
🧛 Lean's POV:
Ugh… my stomach feels like it's full of tiny, angry kittens. My face hurts. My hair's a glittery mess. My entire existence just screamed drama from the moment I woke up.
And then I see him.
DOMINIC.
Sitting at the table like some grumpy king of the apocalypse. Arms crossed. One leg tapping against the wooden floor like thump-thump-thump, which, okay, is slightly hypnotic, I admit. His hair's still damp and… oh gods, his chest. His broad chest. The water droplets sliding down every perfect plane… SHINY. I swear I might combust.
I try to shrink into the floor. Pretend I'm invisible. But nope. My guilty-pup aura is glowing neon.
Then… the voice.
"Sit."
Holy glittery chaos. That voice! Deep, harsh, commanding… my knees literally buckle.
I go down so fast it's a miracle my face didn't slam into the floor. And before I know it, I'm clutching his leg like some desperate, melodramatic little gremlin.
"I-I'm sorry! I-I won't do it again! Please don't—don't kick me out!"
Soundtrack: sobbing, hiccups, drool.
Okay. Pause. Reality check.
He's not mad. I can feel that.
But oh gods, he looks terrifyingly composed while I look like a glittery disaster and a broken vase at the same time.
"Sit. On the chair."
Ohhh he's not done. My legs shake as I scramble up, chair screeching under me, hair sticking to my sticky face, mascara probably running like a tiny river of shame. I almost fall, but gravity's mercy lets me perch there like a tiny, guilty squirrel.
And then the rules:
"You have exactly five minutes to explain everything. Speak. Without sobbing. And without spitting on my face with your drool and snot."
Wait. Five minutes? That's… impossible. I'm already crying. Already drooling. Already mentally staging a tiny Broadway production of my own death.
I nod. "O-okay…"
Click. Stopwatch. The terror begins.
And the entire time? My brain is screaming: He's smiling! No, he's smirking! No, he's totally hiding a laugh! He's enjoying this! Oh Devils, he's actually enjoying me suffering! What kind of sadistic, beautiful, perfect creature does this?! Or..or he is really mad? What if he makes bat stew off me, I saw Ray got a Chinese origin friend, what if he feeds me to him...nooooo....
My throat tightens. My hands clutch my hair like I'm trying to pull my undead soul back inside my body. I can barely think straight because he's there, looking like every fan fiction I've ever imagined, like he was made for me to panic in front of.
Okay. Focus. Five minutes. Explain. Don't sob. Don't drool. Don't melt into a puddle of sparkly shame.
Easy. Totally easy.
HAHAHAHAHA NOPE.
🐺 Dominic's POV:
I watch him, the little glitter bomb, squirming in his chair like a trapped squirrel, trying so hard not to cry. His hands clutch his curls, his nose red, lips trembling. And then he starts.
"You… you drank too much. You… barked at a balloon. Then… you flopped into wolfself. Ray… Ray dragged you home… I got tired… and I—uh—you… flopped on your fuzzy warm cuddly wolf belly… you turned back to human form, still… still drunk… you hugged me… humped me… you were… hot… so I… I let you do it… you… cum… and… we… we slept together cuddling…"
I blink. I stare. My mouth twitches.
"GET OUT!" I bark, as I stand up and turn around to leave.
Instantly, I see it. His dead little vampire heart does a full somersault. He flops at my feet, clutching my legs like some tragic puppy. "P-please! Don't—don't throw me out! I...I will beba good Vampire! I...I will nevor Trouble You! I will eat all my foods! I will even wash my clothes! I will not touch you kitchen too...PUPPERS Pleaseeessssssss"
And then—I lose it.
I can't hold it. The laugh rips out of me, raw and chaotic, and I clutch my stomach. Lean freezes, eyes wide, utterly confused.
"Fuck I can't! Just...just look at your face Vamps, you looks like a Pufferfish high on drugs, hahaha ha...fuck lord...what are you Dude! Bro how you manage to...to..hahaha..looks so adorable even ugly crying...hahaha...Hehe.fuck my stomach hurts!"
*Deep breath!*
He stumbles to his feet, cheeks puffed, eyes watering. "I-I am crying and you were all time just acting up!!"
He punches me softly in the arm—cute little frustrated punch—and crosses his arms, pouting like the tiny, melodramatic nightmare he is.
I can't resist. I wrap my arms around him from behind, hugging him tight. Lean jolts, flails, and squeaks. My face hovers near his ear, voice dropping low and husky.
"Ohhh… now you're the one acting mad, ha! Cute… so… which part did you like last night, Vampire?"
And then… I nibble his ear. Just a playful little bite.
Instant chaos. Lean stiffens, cold blood rushing bright blue through his veins, face turning… blue. His flustered squeak is somewhere between a yelp and a whine. He breaks out of my hug, stomping off to his room, arms crossed, hiding that ridiculous blush.
I chuckle, shaking my head. "Okay… okay… I got it. You're mad, vamps. Fine. Fine."
I call after him, still laughing. "Breakfast will be ready in twenty minutes!"
And then I head to the kitchen, tail swishing and grin still plastered across my face.