Howdy! This is my first fan fiction, technically, but I hope you all enjoy. This is also my first time on this site, so I do apologize for an early mix up, or anything I have done wrong. Well, here I go, I suppose.

Chapter one: A thirst

Characters: Ezreal, Vladimir, Darius, briefly Lux

Pairings: Suggested Darius/Vladimir history, Vladimir/Ezreal

Warnings: Boners(?), blood/self harm I suppose, and gay thoughts. Very gay.

The scent of blood had been something the hemomancer had been forced to grow accustom to. A tantalizing tease to the blood-seeking man. Humans and creatures from every different faction would surround him daily due to his occupation in the League. Every match, however, was a blessing. A fight to a false death, giving him a chance to suck the life of the champions he slept near whom taunted him with their scent. Some loathed him for being of the Noxian court, but he rarely paid attention to politics. After his history, Noxus hadn't be too keen on him, even if he were Swain's favorite toy.

As he made his way through the oddly clean halls of the Champion quarters, which were generously decorated; despite the principal behind strangers controlling them to fight to the death until one side won a match; he straitened his crimson cloak over his shoulders and smoothed it down. Whilst out of battle, his normal claws were left behind in his room, since being so adorned with deadly weapons on something he used often, was something the other Champions didn't seem to like. Now, he kept them inside his coat and out of sight before his future summoning. Out of the Rift, the power of their Nexus wouldn't be there to heal them or bring them back to life. Out here, it was real and quite permanent death. Perhaps that was why peace keepers were kept around, especially near his and other deadly and most likely insane Champions were.

The kitchen was boisterous and overflowing with people, per usual, so Vladimir kept away from it in scorn. Passing by, however, he could catch wind of all the different bloods mingling together in tightly flesh covered packages. Sighing, he passed by the room with no interference with the on-goings of everyone else and their chatter. Some were missing from the mess hall, however, due to the upcoming match that they and Vladimir had been summoned for. As he made his way there, his fingers grazed his coat, feeling the box of his claws. The moments that made his heart race happily were in the Rift. Where he could carve those he desired with ease through his devices. He mockingly pondered why the other Champions didn't desire him wandering the halls with the claws adorning his fingers.

The chambers of the lobby were wide and white; yet held a faint glow of two colors to separate the teams that would be fighting one another soon. He joined the scarlet haze, keeping his distance from his future team, facing their opponents whom seemed content on talking happily with those they would be facing in a few moments. His gaze lingered along a fellow Noxian; Darius. A smirk graced his features as he studied the large man that purposefully avoiding looking to him. He wouldn't deny his enjoyment of teasing and mocking the Hand of Noxus. It was a game he enjoyed almost as much as fighting Champions of the League. The others on his team, he only recognized from past battles, but was not acquainted closely. A small Piltover woman, whom dressed like an explorer had constantly caught his eye, only from the sheer amount of talking she did. He was not one to admire a running mouth, but the speed at which she talked was almost an amazement. Though, something about her voice almost seemed... manly. Deeper than most Piltover women. He'd never kept interest in other Champions long enough to care, however, so didn't question it. Everyone was unique here. Even if it were as strange as a boy-like female with some magic hand or whatever.

The feeling of being summoned was abrupt and unsettling to Vladimir despite the many times of doing it. It felt as though he were being pulled from his own being- making him wonder if it was similar to how he used the essence of others to kill them with. Shuddering as they landed against the cold, stone surface of their fountain, he glanced to his teammates before slipping on his weapons for the upcoming fight. He should have been pleased to battle against Darius, but only felt unsettled.

The blond brat, Ezreal, he came to discover was male. A chance at his blood had nearly forced the hemomancer to break from his summoner and attack him ensured that discovery. The taste of the kid... his blood. The first to rush from the door, Vladimir was far more than flustered and angry with himself for his longing of the boy. He had his fair share of blood in every fight, of course; even Darius had lost quite a bit on the Rift to him. Yet, he couldn't recall something so... tempting. He rubbed his sore jaw, where the blond's magic had lingered in feeling from shooting him down as the boy ran from him, firing back to keep the Noxian away and distanced. He grew stiff as people filed from the room and began walking again, hurriedly to his quarters. The scent still taunted him from his memory, and he wasn't keen on a peacemaker dragging him away for assaulting a child. He'd done it before, but no one needed to know of that. If anyone had, Draven, the blood brother, would probably happily put him up for execution.

Remembering the taste of Ezreal's blood, his lips parted faintly. He knew he wanted more, and when his body demanded it, then it was a challenge to not oblige. Crimson eyes narrowed faintly at the struggle to continue walking and distancing himself from the kid. He could have tried to court the brat and lure him somewhere, but he seemed to be surrounded by someone at all times. He'd never thought of doing such a thing before; especially to something of the same gender. Then again, he didn't have many thoughts of women either. Cocking a brow, he shrugged meekly. Did it matter?

Catching wind of the familiar scent, he glanced behind him to spot the subject of his near obsession and stiffened. Beside him, he chattered away with some blond Demacian. He wondered if they were related momentarily, before ignoring the potential interest in someone else with similar tasting blood. She didn't seem to smell like him, so he brushed her aside from his thoughts. His gaze trailed along Ezreal firmly, until a large object interjected. Blinking, Vladimir was forced to look up at the hovering figure. It grunted and he sneered cockily. "Do you often mingle around people you don't like?" he mused to Darius, whom continued past, his hand gripping Vladimir's upper arm firmly to pull him along. Staggering, his eyebrows furrowed irritably. "Hey- don't touch me!" he snapped, yanking fruitlessly.

The man paused momentarily and shrugged before releasing him.

"You shouldn't go after him."

Vladimir's eyes narrowed firmly. "Do not tell me what to do, Darius." he spat the others name. "And I don't know who-" "you know exactly who I'm talking about and you know why I'm saying it. Piltover is allied with Demacia; our enemy if you don't remember." It was the most he'd heard Darius speak, which was almost unnerving to the hemomancer.

"I had no intention of it." he muttered quietly. Darius eyed him silently. "Just because I've sucked you off-" His gaze hardened. "doesn't mean I'm going to do it to some brat." The Noxian sighed heavily as if the conversation already tired him out, despite having just started. "I don't care what you do, as long as it doesn't set off a random tension between us. We're already having issues at home as it is." he muttered lowly, his gaze momentarily flickering down the hall for any onlookers. "Don't fuck up over your blood lust."

Vlad smirked coyly. "Or else what? You'll come after me again? You do remember what happened the last time, don't you?" he purred, his index finger grazing along Darius' armored front. He shrugged it off and continued walking away to Vladimir's amusement. Looking back to where the blond had been, the boy was just turning his head and continuing inside the kitchen with the stranger.

It was odd to think he would crave blood like this so suddenly after so long. Perhaps Darius was right, and it would end poorly if he allowed himself to indulge in the boy. Not that he cared what Darius thought, or wanted; nor what would cause tension for Noxus and Piltover. Continuing on to his room, to continue the cycle of people leaving the area, he planned for a relaxing evening after the long fight. Of course, usually that wasn't what would happen. He would try to relax, but end up getting bored of down time and wander about. His only hope was that he wouldn't encounter the blond brat from earlier; a hope he would cling to for his own sake.

Opening the oak door to his room, he sighed heavily before disrobing. Running a nail across his navel, he contemplated silently, an eyebrow furrowing. Perhaps he could withhold his desires with substitute. Pressing down the long nail against the inner part of his wrist, running it down to let a line of beaded crimson blossom from the white. Pressing it to his mouth, his excited expression melted faintly to disappointment. It wasn't nearly as good as Darius had been. The thought almost angered him, but he drank from himself despite the sever lack of taste. It was like eating a bland human food instead of a juicy steak. It was unappealing and made you only want the better taste even more. Scowling, he lapped at the wound and redressed in more casual attire. A faint knock forced the hemomancer to look up, his gaze curious and steady upon the door.

"Hello?"

The voice was so faint and so soft, the man strained to hear. Drawing closer, he unlocked the bolt and pried it open gingerly. Looking down, a piled of blond hair lifted to reveal wide blue eyes. The Noxian forced an unfazed expression.

"Erm... you're Vladimir, right?" Ezreal asked, his voice struggling to be firm and louder to hear, despite the fear lingering across his tone. Vladimir could sense it undoubtedly due to having heard it often enough when strangers spoke to him. Especially in the League. He paused before nodding faintly. "That is me." he replied briskly, hoping to end the conversation sooner than later. The Piltovan prodigy shifted uncomfortably and averted his gaze. "Oh..." Temper running thin, the man eyed the boy in silent disdain, hoping he would catch on that he was disturbing his peace. "Well, I was wondering... since you were talking to Darius... if you were a Noxian. I've done research on a lot of the Champions here, but realized a while ago that I never really... looked into your history."

The hemomancer cocked an eyebrow again. "It's an odd request, but if you wouldn't mind... it made me curious." Having the boy whose blood he desired inside of his closed, quiet quarters was probably the last thing he should be doing. Especially after Darius warning him of just the outcome of this; getting close and doing something immoral. Leaning against the frame of his door and continuing to shield Ezreal's eyes from the inside of his room, he smirked. "It is a rather odd request. I do not see a need for anyone to know anything further about me, though." he stated finally, hoping this would end their strange conversation. Yet, the boy did not cease.

"I would like to know! I mean, you're just... I've fought with you and against you many times, but..." He seemed troubled and his eyes lowered quickly. "I want to know who I'm fighting with. Or, sometimes against. You know about all of us, I'm sure." Vladimir hadn't much cared for the history of the other Champions, but had occasionally gotten bored and read of them. He had probably been reading the work of Ezreal, now that he thought of it.

"I don't see what's in it for me. I dislike those I fight against having knowledge of what they are against, but after so many times of fighting, they're bound to figure some things out. Having my history at their disposal is something private and what I wish to keep as such."

Ezreal looked up again, his eyebrows furrowing in determination. "I'm sure it can't be that bad! And if it is, you could just lie... anything, just. Just anything is better than nothing at all." he declared, seeming to plead with the stranger. It was odd to see someone whom knew so little of him, desire for more. To go to the extents of venturing to the Noxian side of the buildings just for a little bit of knowledge that he wouldn't be graced with. Not by Vladimir himself, anyway. The kid even said he wouldn't care if he were lied to. Just any story for his books. Sighing, the hemomancer rubbed his forehead. "Look, kid..." He seemed to frown at that. "I don't know what your drive is, but I was hoping to rest for the night." Unable to finish his sentence, Vladimir quickly froze. The boy was rubbing his cheek slightly and looked away with an upset expression. Something was bleeding.

He noted how Ezreal's tongue glided along the inside of his right cheek as though trying to stop a wound from hurting as most did. The man swallowed. His lips parted, hoping to continue something to make him leave, but empty air remained.

Ezreal shook his head. "I don't know what my drive is either. It's why I'm an explorer. I want to know more about things... and people." He seemed hesitant. "I don't know... after today, I-"

A thumb ran along the right cheek, smoothing his pad over the soft flesh gingerly; like a lover. The mans gaze was brighter than before and staring intently at his face. Vladimir had been interested in blood, obviously, but something was slowly clicking for the boy. The battle that day, he had felt something odd when Vladimir had defeated him. The way he'd stuttered, nearly breaking connection to his summoner and their commands to return to base. Ezreal had noticed as he lie in the gray grass, staring blankly ahead. Something in himself had stirred too, but he hadn't let himself show it. The touch had sent shivers up his spine and caused the boy to straiten suddenly. Had he been able to smell the blood from biting his cheek?

Parting his lips to speak, the man cringed quite visibly before jerking away. "Leave me..." he said quietly, starting to shut the door when a foot stopped the action. Snapping his eyes up again to the boy, the hemomancer frowned deeply.

"I don't want to." He was like a kid. Before Vladimir could protest or throw him away from the door, he bustled inside. There wasn't much interference from the Noxian due to the unwillingness to be close and firmly avoiding contact between the two. His hand remained on the door handle, clenching it tightly as the blond glanced around momentarily at his surroundings. "Leave..." Ezreal shrugged his words off and turned to face him. "Did you take my blood in the Rift?" he asked suddenly, to the mans surprise. Shifting backwards slightly, he glowered. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He pushed his finger into his mouth and rubbed the inside of his cheek before exposing the pink liquid. The man visibly moved away, the door slowly pushing shut.

"You don't know what you're doing." he warned, but the kid clenched his jaw. "I think I do. You're like a vampire; old folklore." he stated, nearly making the man chuckle. The shit knew his literature. "Something like that..."

"Then you tasted my blood today."

He remained silent.

"Does it do anything to me when you do that? I haven't seen any other Champions go after you." He paused as if he'd said something stupid and glanced away.

"I don't know what it does to other people." he lied.

"Do you?"

Vladimir felt cornered in his own room, which was something that greatly displeased him. Glaring daggers at the Piltover brat, he folded his arms insecurely. "Nothing that I would tell you of." He couldn't keep with his lie, feeling as though it were seen through just by his inquiries. "If it's affecting me, then why won't you?" Ezreal snapped. Vladimir studied him quietly, realizing how on edge the boy seemed. Something was indeed bothering him. Something he had done. His teeth clenched together.

"Why do I feel like I have to know about you? Or have you... have you do it again?" This time his cheeks were darkening in color and his expression seemed angered or upset again. "I don't know what this is and I want to know why I want it." Vladimir held back a confident smile. He knew exactly what it was.

"Oh." He silently thought of the possibility of it happening yet again. It had been so similar to Darius, yet ended so poorly. Rubbing his own lips with a forefinger, he pondered. Ezreal silently seethed in his denied curiosity and unanswered demands. Vladimir watched him quietly, his gaze uneasy on a decision. "A bond is made between two occasionally. Two set people through blood through that bond is a desire for one another. I've experienced it before with someone I did not chose, nor had affections for." Ezreal listened keenly, drinking in the information. The only answers he seemed to be getting.

"Why me?"

"I don't know. I told you, I don't decide this." he snapped back. Ezreal shifted back, almost docile to the strong tone. "I'm sorry it happened to you... perhaps if we distance from each other, it will..." he trailed off, seeing the hurtful panic in the boys eyes. He shook his head. "I don't think... no." He was quiet again, as though struggling between a normal attitude of his and a more calm and quiet one.

"I don't want to."

Vladimir sighed softly, looking to the door. Should he kick him out before things would escalate? It was tempting. A hand rose slowly to the mans hand, gently prodding at the side of his wrist before pushing it to turn. Exposing his former cut, Ezreal looked at it quietly. "Is that how you drink from people?" he asked, his tone in no way disgusted or repulsed.

"Not typically. I was in a fit, trying to sate my hunger." he muttered, wondering why he was answering his questions at all.

Ezreal looked to his wrist and started to raise his other hand before Vladimir snatched it to hold in the air. "Do not tempt me." The boy glanced up and smiled softly, the look forcing the man to shudder. "But I want to. And so do you."

Vladimir eyed the boy and his gaze lingered down and on his neck. The quick, steady pulse of his vein instantly caused his mouth to water. Swallowing down the saliva, he clenched his jaw firmly. He shouldn't partake from a boy. A Piltover boy whom was some well known figure from where he came from. He would be forced to leave the League and Noxus to hiding again.

Tightening his grip on the wrist he held, he bent down, his lips parting dangerously to expose his sharpened teeth. A chill of fear ran through the boy, but he remained still as lips hovered near his throat. He could probably be killed in such a position. His eyes slid closed, expecting pain or something. He was only greeted by a faint kiss against his flesh. Fluttering his eyelids open again, he looked up as his skin was sucked against and licked. A pinch caused him to flinch, his eyes squeezing shut. It hadn't hurt nearly as bad as he'd thought.

His body felt strange to have the blood rush from a wound so suddenly and a faint whimper escaped sealed lips. His free hand rose slowly, clutching desperately to Vladimir's shoulder for support from falling. Ezreal didn't feel weak yet, but was dizzied by the sheer pleasure coming from the pain. It rushed through his body and grew warm throughout, making him uncomfortable in his clothing. The warmth remained and grew more intense as the man tightened his grip and moved his free hand to clutch Ezreal by the waist and draw him closer; their bodies nearly pressed together. It wasn't something Ezreal ever had thought of finding himself enjoying... the vanilla thoughts of love in bed weren't ever pleasing, but something like this... somehow aroused him. It was rougher than how most treated him. They were his friends and kind, but he yearned for a rough touch. Something to bring him pain. His thoughts swirled and his former blush only increased. He was getting off on a man sucking his blood.

Breathing through his mouth, Ezreal grew panicked that Vladimir wouldn't stop. He tightened his grip on the shoulder and shook weakly. He had wondered why he seemed so... small since he'd come here. Perhaps it was some reaction to all of this. "Vlad..." His voice trailed, caught up in the sensations overwhelming him. The man seemed to snap from his experience and slowly drew back from Ezreal. Just enough to lick the wound and remained pressed against the boy.

Something prodded him at the waist, but he couldn't look down. His head seemed stuck in place to allow the man to continue anything he wanted. However, he began to get an idea of what it was. This thirst for his blood... was it something more? Whatever it was, Ezreal was certainly having a similar reaction to it.