Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Hunter.” 

The voice drags him out of his thoughts, causing him to look up from his half-eaten plate. He peers at the man addressing him, tilting his head ever so slightly to indicate that he’s listening. At the same time, he shoves another spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. Just in case he's about to be thrown out of this establishment, he wants to fill his belly as best as possible. Hell knows how long it’s been since he’s had a decent meal. 

The man sneers, wiping the back of his hand over his greasy moustache and spitting onto the worn out floor. “You think those arrows of youse gon’ be faster than ma bullets?” 

Sova takes in the man with his worn out leather vest, receding hairline and stained shirt, then shrugs one shoulder, answering nonchalantly: “If you would like to find out, it will have to be outside. I have promised my grandmother I would not get into any bar fights.”

The stranger looks almost baffled for a moment then he snarls out a string of curse words. “We don’ wan’ your kind out here.” 

The archer hums. Instead of answering immediately, he nonchalantly scrapes the rest of his potatoes onto the spoon. “My kind? Travellers?” 

“Halfbreeds,” the other spits, baring yellowed fangs to the light of the gaslamps. “Whole place reeks ‘cause of you. 

At that, Sova finally raises his head, levelling his mismatched eyes at the vampire. The man flinches slightly, then squares his shoulders and takes a step towards him, disdain carved into his features. 

“Now, now,” a smooth voice cuts between them. “We wouldn’t want to make a bad impression on my measured friend here, would we now? Surely, this can be resolved in a more… civilised manner.” 

A gloved hand lands on the man’s shoulder and Sova watches with mild intrigue as he freezes immediately, the threat of violence all but evaporating out of his slumping shoulders. 

“There, that’s better. Why don’t you go back to your table and allow us some privacy.” It’s not a request, not even a suggestion and the previously so tough guy now scrambles to obey, not even offering a word of protest.

In his stead, a familiar, lithe form sinks into the chair across from Sova, leisurely crossing his legs and resting one elbow on the table. “Now, my sweet little owl, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” 

“Cypher.” Sova places his cutlery on the table and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “You’re late.” 

The other chuckles lowly, the rasp of his voice a familiar scrape along Sova’s skin. “And you are as charming as ever, dear hunter.” Even with the mask in place, Sova can tell the other man is smirking, clearly not at all fazed by the unfriendly greeting.

The archer huffs out a breath. “Shouldn’t you know why I am here? You’re the one who sent for me.” 

Cypher clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Ah, maybe I was hoping you’d say that you missed me.” 

Sova doesn’t answer, unwilling to indulge the other’s flirtations. Not because a secret part of him isn’t delighted to be reunited with the other but mostly because he’s fairly sure they don’t mean anything. He discards the thought quickly, focusing on the matter at hand. “Your letter mentioned it was urgent.” And important enough to call Sova into territory where he is decidedly not wanted. Both because of his profession and the circumstances of his birth. 

In an instant, his companion switches from his joking, flirtatious manner to being serious. He leans over the table, lowering his voice to a murmur that decidedly doesn’t make the hairs on Sova’s neck stand up. 

“One of my contacts has been failing to check in for three weeks now. We keep an interval of thirty-six hours.” 

A frown settles on Sova’s features as he listens. He knows Cypher likes to keep a tight ship when it comes to his information network; if he’s concerned about his informant’s whereabouts, then the matter is no doubt serious. He nods, downing the rest of his lukewarm drink and setting the cup back onto the table with a soft clink. “Only three hours until sunrise. We shouldn’t set out now.” 

Cypher hums, patting Sova’s hand with his gloved fingers. “How considerate of you, my dear. Why don’t we play a couple games of chess and then rest for the day? My room has a semi-comfortable couch, unless you would like to share the bed.” 

“The bed will do.” 

—

They set out at sundown, Sova’s horse already saddled when he enters the stable and he double checks her for any injuries - just in case. He doesn’t trust anyone, much less a town full of vampires that couldn’t hate his existence any more. 

Cypher chuckles, already atop of his own horse and watching Sova with clear amusement. The archer ignores him, running his fingers through his mare’s mane before leading her outside. He climbs into the saddle, then turns to face his companion. “Lead the way.” 

They ride through the night as the moon climbs above them, Cypher’s idle chatter filling his ears in a strangely comforting way. As much as he enjoys teasing Sova, he’s good company and an excellent storyteller, though the archer isn’t sure which of his tales are true and which are entirely made up. 

It makes Sova remember the distaste he used to have for the other, less because of what Cypher is than because on first glance he seemed like someone who only cares for people as far as they are useful to him. In the end, it took months for Sova to realise there’s more to the other than his secrets and that stupidly attractive voice.

The archer makes a noise of irritation at the thought that slipped unbidden into his mind, shaking his head when Cypher asks him about the meaning behind it. “Nothing.” 

His companion hums, tilting his head and seemingly watching him for a moment. “How have you been faring in controlling your other side?” 

Sova lowers his gaze, staring at his hands on the reins for a moment. Of course, Cypher knows about the struggle his mixed blood brings with it. Half-angel, half-human. He’s not supposed to exist in the first place, yet here he is. It’s a heritage that is clearly visible in the glowing blue of his eye and the golden strands of his hair. 

Sure, it has its perks, enhanced vision, strength, endurance, immunity to most magicks… But they don’t make up for the downsides. The violent fury burning in his veins, the instinctive urge to destroy any creatures his angelic side would consider corrupted. And then there’s the ringing in his ears, high pitched, growing in volume at random times, to the point where it seems intent on shattering his skull. “Fine,” he mutters in response. 

He doesn’t mind being an outcast, prefers the open wilderness to the constraints of civilisation anyway. Loneliness is something he’s long learnt to live with. It’s only around Cypher that it bubbles up again, boiling his chest and threatening to spill past his lips. 

Sova looks up, squinting his eyes as he calculates the time based on the position of the moon. “We should find a place to rest soon.” 

“My informant last checked in from Redreach,” Cypher responds. “If we keep riding, we’ll arrive before sunrise.” 

The archer grunts, uncertain if he agrees with the assessment. “How long can you last in the sun in that getup?”

“A few minutes should be fine. Though I can’t say I’ve tested it. I don’t particularly want my handsome features to get singed.” 

Sova arches an eyebrow, glancing over at his companion. “No one would know, since you never take off that mask.” 

Cypher coos: “My, are you asking to see my face? Maybe if you beg nicely, I’ll let you have a peek.” 

With a scoff, Sova turns his head away, returning his gaze to the narrow road ahead. “Keep your secrets to yourself. It’s none of my business.” As much as curiosity is gnawing at him, he’s not about to lower himself to the point of begging for a glimpse of the other’s face. He’ll leave that part to his imagination then; not that he does go out of his way to imagine what the other looks like… 

By the time they pass the road sign announcing Redreach, the sky is growing a little lighter above their heads. “You should hope they have a room for you to stay in.” An uneasy feeling sits heavily in Sova’s stomach and his instincts usually prove right in these kinds of situations. 

Cypher on the other hand doesn’t seem bothered at all, voice chipper as ever when he answers: “For us, you mean. Surely, you understand the tactical advantage of sharing a room when we are facing an unknown danger.” 

Really, Sova kind of wants to strangle him. He also kind of wants to kiss him but that’s the part he’s actively not thinking about any further. 

Redreach is deserted. 

They ride along the main road flanked by simple wooden houses, eyes trained to spot anything out of the ordinary but there’s nothing at all. The windows are dark, no lights or movement behind the panes of glass where the shutters aren’t tightly latched to prevent nosy onlookers. Of course, it’s not even sunrise yet, so it’s not exactly strange for the residents to still be asleep, but something about the heavy silence lingering above them, makes Sova’s mental alarm bells ring. 

Something’s not right, he’s certain of it. 

“Cypher,” he warns, voice low to avoid attracting any kind of attention. 

The other gives him a quick glance, his shoulders tightening as he takes in the look on Sova’s face. “Angel senses tingling,” he asks, half joking, half serious. 

“Mhm.” Sova draws his bow and pulls two arrows from his quiver, allowing some of the energy cooling in his chest to infuse the wooden shaft. Bright blue lightning flickers around the tip as he takes aim and fires the arrow straight up into the air. 

A heartbeat later, a soft, blue pulse emanates from the flying arrow, raining down small, glowing particles around them. They’re accompanied by a soft humming that quickly turns into a shrill, ear-piercing noise. 

Sova curses, doubling over as he grasps his head, trying to tune out the ringing echoing in his skull. “This place is not safe,” he grits out only a heartbeat before Cypher calls out: “Sova, look out!” 

His horse rears up, startled by the figure rushing at them and it’s only the strength of his legs keeping him from falling onto the dry ground. A gunshot rings out and the figure collapses, struck down by Cypher’s colt. 

With his head still in agony, Sova forces himself to focus. He pats his mare’s neck, murmuring a few raspy sentences in Russian until the horse calms down somewhat. She’s still uneasy, whinnying and prancing from one hoof onto the other. 

Next to him, Cypher slips out of the saddle, hastily approaching the downed assailant. He kneels next to the figure. It looks human, now that Sova has the time to actually look at it but also not entirely. 

“This man has been dead for at least a week,” Cypher says, the frown obvious in his voice. He adjusts his hat, glancing up at Sova from where he’s crouched. “We both saw him attack you. That was no illusion.” 

Sova agrees, the nervous feeling in his gut solidifying. “We need to get going.” Once again, he glances up at the steadily brightening sky. They should’ve found a place to rest earlier, really, he should’ve insisted on waiting out the day. 

“Surely there will be a place-” Cypher doesn’t get to finish his sentence. His head snaps up, clearly listening for something that Sova can’t pick up yet. “Ah, you might be right, my measured friend, it seems to be time to leave.” 

Sova directs his horse to turn, his right eye picking up the shadows moving in the town’s side streets before they stumble into the main road. “Cypher,” he starts, reaching into his quiver slowly as he watches the once-human creatures, waiting to see if they have noticed the two hunters in their midst.

“It might already be too late.” He’s barely spoken the words, when - as though guided by some sort of hivemind - a dozen heads snap to face them. The undead howl, charging towards them with unnatural speed. 

A string of angry Arabic reaches his ears and Sova can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips despite the situation. A moment later, his face is once more schooled into an expression of calm concentration. He knocks another arrow, sending it straight between the eyes of the first undead running towards them. The woman falters, stumbling a few steps before slumping to the ground. 

“Sova…” The archer glances over his shoulder, realising with a sinking feeling that they are entirely surrounded. More and more of the not-dead-not-alive townspeople are emerging from all sides, cutting off any potential way of escape. 

It is too late. 

In an instant, Sova swings himself off his horse, firing two more arrows before slapping his beloved mare’s rear hard, startling her into moving. “Run, get out of here!” He’s not sure if the mount understands or if she’s reacting on instinct. Either way, she takes off, quickly followed by Cypher’s smaller stallion, charging through the crowd of undead that don’t seem to pay them much mind. 

It doesn’t take long before they’re being swarmed, Sova’s arrows cutting through the air with pinpoint precision. In his back, the comforting sound of Cypher’s colt is keeping the attackers at bay. For a moment it looks like they’re making a dent, taking down enough of them to create an escape route at least. But eventually, Sova’s fingers find empty air in his quiver and behind him, Cypher slots the last two bullets into his revolver. And above, above the sky is turning a calm turquoise, the first splotches of pink colouring the horizon. 

To say it doesn’t look good, would be an understatement. 

“Sova,” Cypher’s back is against his own as the circle of undead grows tighter and tighter around them. “If this is-” 

Sova swallows, sliding the long dagger from his boot. “Sasha.” 

“What?” 

“My name is Aleksandr. Call me Sasha.” His lips are a taut line, muscles tight and a pale, blue light dancing around his fingers. 

Cypher responds with a soft chuckle, the way his mouth wraps around Sova’s name sending a shiver of delight down the archer’s spine. “Well then, Sasha. I suppose I’ll have to repay that knowledge with my own. Let’s say if we survive this, I’ll give you both my name and my face.” 

Sova huffs out a breath, a touch of amusement on his tongue. “I’ll believe it when I see it, Cypher.” 

All he receives in return is a snarl. Clearly, the undead townspeople have no desire to let them continue in their back-and-forth. Whether they noticed that there are no more long-ranged weapons to hold them at bay or they’re simply getting impatient, they charge with reckless abandon. 

Silver steel flashes, slicing through flesh and muscle. The more of his essence he pours into the weapon, the higher pitched the ringing in his ears grows. Soon, the world swims before his eyes, that wild fury taking over as he cuts down anything that moves. 

From the corner of his eye he can see Cypher, the other moving with a speed barely visible to the human eye. Black claws have torn their way through gloves, slashing and tearing through their assailants, stale blood and gore staining the beige coat. 

The further the fight drags on, the more animalistic they both grow, words long forgotten between them. The blue light spreads from his fingers up his arms, his long hair almost statically charged a wild mess around his face. 

The first gleam of sunlight crawls across the road, the air thick with the stench of death. Sova knows that his limbs should be aching, that the battle should be straining him but he’s getting lost in the ringing, in the need to cleanse, to purge…

“Sasha…” the voice carves through his daze like the steel of his dagger, his eyes wide and wild as he looks around for its source. 

Cypher’s coat is shredded and there’s a gash in his mask, baring the pale brown of his cheek to the light of morning. To the ringing in his head, the other is just another creature of corruption, another monster that needs to be wiped from the face of the earth but to Sova… 

He tears himself free, ripping his own tattered cloak off his shoulders and rushing towards Cypher. In one fluid motion, he throws the garment over the other and drags him away from the main road.

They crash through a wooden hatch in the floor, the small coal cellar barely wide enough for the both of them but it’ll do. He slams the hatch shut, tries to block it however best he can before turning to face Cypher. 

The other man is on the floor on his back, stripes of light creeping through the cracks between the hatch’s wooden planks and over his body. Sova curses. He doesn’t see another solution, throwing himself on top of his companion and covering him with his own body.

It’s cramped but it works for now, allows Sova to finally catch his breath. 

Cypher laughs. A low, rumbled sound that makes goosebumps erupt along Sova’s arms. “Who would’ve thought the hunter who tried to carve out my heart once would end up shielding me with his own body.” 

Sova grits his teeth, the heat in his cheeks betraying the flat tone of his voice. “Brimstone wouldn’t forgive me if I let his best informant die.”

“Oh, Sasha, is that really all I am to you?” 

There it is again, his name falling from Cypher’s lips, making his stomach twist and turn. If he completely forgets about the remaining undead, about the strange town they’re in, and the sun that still poses a serious threat to his companion… he blames it on the man underneath him. He can see the twist of Cypher’s mouth through the mask now that he’s this close, can feel the other’s cool breath.

He speaks before his brain can properly catch up with what he’s saying: “I’ll trade you for your name.” 

Cypher shifts, his knee slotting between Sova’s legs and the contact sends a jolt through the archer, his breath catching in his throat. “Mmh. I don’t think you’re very good at bartering, my dear owl. But I’ll indulge you because you look so pretty covered in blood.” 

Sova swallows thickly, feeling a strange, unfamiliar anxiety grab a hold of him. “Wait-” 

The other cuts him off by simply grabbing a hold of Sova’s head and pulling him down, bringing his mouth close to the archer’s ear. “Call me Amir, habibi.” 

He shivers, breath shuddering past his lips. “Amir…” 

The other groans, his clawed fingers sliding down to Sova’s neck, gently wrapping around it. “You truly are the worst kind of temptation,” Amir rumbles, pressing his masked lips against Sova’s cheeks and breathing in deeply. “You should’ve let me burn in the sun, Sasha, I’m not a man who is very good at withstanding temptation.” 

Oh. 

Sova screws his eyes shut, trying to figure out what he’s even supposed to say to that. He licks his lips, knowing fully well that he’s crossing multiple boundaries he previously set for himself. “You don’t have to.” 

Amir sucks in a sharp breath, pushing Sova away enough that he can look at his face. “Sasha, my love, are you serious about this?” There’s insecurity in his voice, something Sova would’ve never expected from the always suave and confident man. “If you’re joking about this, I don’t think I could handle it.” 

The archer nods. “I’m not joking.” 

Amir remains silent for a moment, his thumb brushing over Sova’s cheek. Finally, he speaks: “You don’t understand how hard it has been to restrain myself. You don’t know how divine you smell. I never thought you’d-” he stops himself, taking another deep breath. Then, he raises his hand, carefully peeling the mask off his face. 

He’s beautiful. It’s all Sova can think for a long moment, his gaze drawn to the other’s delicate features. Soft, brown skin, interrupted by spots of white. Long lashes framing eyes that are so dark, he can’t tell where the iris ends and the pupil begins. 

“Disappointed by what you’re seeing?” Amir jokes, the insecurity still clinging to his voice and Sova wants to kiss it away immediately. 

Instead, he hurries to mumble out: “No. Couldn’t be.” 

The other’s lips split into a smile, the glint of white fangs making Sova’s heart jump in his chest. “You’re going to be the death of me, Sasha.” 

He holds Sova’s head in his hands so gently, cupping his cheeks as he pulls him closer once more. His lips ghost over the archer’s skin, caressing, kissing, worshipping his neck. It makes the air catch in Sova’s lungs, his limbs weak all of a sudden, mind unable to focus on anything else. “It could be dangerous,” he whispers. They don’t know what his blood could do to Amir, for all they know it could be poison. 

A chuckle, puffs of cold breath against his hot skin. “I’m fully aware of the risk.” 

Then, his teeth sink into Sova’s flesh. Pain races through his nervous system, followed by a wave of pure heat. He can feel Amir suck on his neck, can hear him swallowing, the soft moans that escape the vampire’s throat. 

It’s ecstatic. Sova’s mind grows fuzzy while fire simmers in his veins. His heart hammers in his chest, his breathing grows laboured, body reacting with a burning need that he’s never felt before. He grinds his hips down subconsciously, seeking relief for the ache that is growing more and more demanding in his lower abdomen. 

Amir pulls away from him with a strangled gasp, his face an expression of bliss, cheeks flushed where Sova’s blood is coursing through his veins. “You’ll be the death of me, Sasha. Never, I have never tasted anything like this. It burns but it’s good. A forbidden fruit, heavenly, intoxicating, addictive…” 

The whimper that falls from Sova’s lips would be mortifying to him in any other situation. But here, with his blood smeared across Amir’s mouth, with the other looking at him like he’s a gift sent from the gods above, he can’t bring himself to care. 

“Please.” He doesn’t know what he’s asking for, hell, he’ll do anything just to get Amir’s hands on his skin at this point. 

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” Amir groans, greedily licking and sucking at Sova’s throat. “I would drain you, bleed you dry and drink up every last drop.” 

Sova curses at the feeling of Amir’s hand pushing into his breeches, slender fingers wrapping firmly around his cock. 

“It wouldn’t be enough, it could never be enough,” Amir rambles, kissing a trail down Sova’s throat until he reaches his collarbone. “I would devour every last piece of you, if you let me.” With that, he bites down again, fangs piercing the sensitive skin. 

It sets Sova’s body ablaze, pleasure chases pain, mingling into a dangerous, inescapable cocktail in his mind. He finds himself rutting into Amir’s hand, desperately chasing the spark that will burn him to ashes. 

He can’t figure out the words to respond, doesn’t know how to convey that he wants nothing more. 

Sova falls apart. Amir’s lips on his chest, Amir’s hand around his cock, dragging him closer to the edge with each stroke, each twist. Bliss seeps into his mind, his body taut as the string of his bow, fists clenched where they rest on each side of Amir’s head. 

Pleasure swallows his voice, his orgasm crashes into him with the drag of Amir’s teeth across his skin. He’s not sure if it’s the blood loss or whatever venom the vampire injected into his veins but he feels like he’s floating, the high drawn out far longer than he’s used to in the company of his own hand. 

Amir is humming by the time Sova’s heart has returned to a steady rhythm, the vampire cradling Sova’s head against his chest, running long fingers through his golden hair. “Sasha, my Sasha. What have you gotten yourself into? Don’t you know vampires are possessive creatures?” 

The hunter huffs out a soft breath. “I will worry about that, if we survive this.” 

“Ah, why don’t we make another trade?” He doesn’t have to look up to know there’s a smirk playing around the other’s lips. 

Sova squints at him, moving his arm to cover Amir’s forehead from a wandering ray of sunlight. “What secret are you offering this time?” 

Amir’s smile widens, mischief glinting in his eyes, though there’s a hint of something else too - tenderness? Affection? The thought makes Sova’s heart ache. “We survive, I get to feast on you properly.” 

“And in return?” 

“In return, I suppose, I can teach you how to take good care of a vampire’s heart.” 

Sova feels his own mouth twitch with a smile. “I should’ve known you’re always out for your own profit after all.” 

“You know me too well, sweet owl.” He pushes his fingers under Sova’s chin, guiding him close enough for their lips to brush together. “Just for you, I will throw in a confession as well.” 

Their mouths meet in a gentle kiss, affection bleeding into the contact as their lips move together. Sova sighs, allowing his eyes to fall shut. The ringing in his ears has calmed, his head no longer throbbing with pain. It’s almost comical how safe he feels, hiding in a coal cellar barely spacious enough for the both of them, at least two dozen undead townspeople waiting to tear them apart when they emerge.

They’ll have to fight their way out once the sun sets but for now they can rest.