Claim

Cain was, despite his efforts to ignore his nature, still a vampire. He could only see so many bared throats before he broke, and Damien's blood still smelled delicious. Despite how dearly he did not want another thrall, the blood of the werewolf called to him. He tried to imagine a better outcome, one where maybe the enthrallment didn't take. It wasn't completely outside the realm of possibility. After all, Damien had resisted Crowe's enthrallment. Maybe, if they were very lucky, he would be equally immune to Cain's power.

It seemed unlikely, but if they lost hope they would lose everything. And while an hour shouldn't have made much of a difference in the situation, it nonetheless felt distinctly unlike the encounter in Cain's room.

This time, when the wolf bared his throat, he didn't do so in the throes of passion or some werewolf mate-hunger. He didn't call Cain "alpha" or even really beg for the bite. His gaze met Cain's unflinchingly – which was surprising, given that he knew the gaze of a vampire had the potential to enthrall, too. But then, if he was expecting a bite, which was far more potent than the gaze, perhaps he simply didn't see the point in worrying about it anymore. He was angry, but determined. He was in pain, which made the blood smell just a bit off, but not so bad that it didn't still make Cain's mouth water and his fangs itch to sink into that perfect pale column of werewolf throat.

"Here," Damien said then, reaching up towards the back of his neck, indicating a specific area near the junction between the neck and shoulder. "If you're going to claim me, the bite needs to go here."

Cain frowned. That wasn't the easiest place to get blood from. "Why there?"

"Because," Damien said exasperatedly, "it's where a mating bite is supposed to go! The claim is less likely to take if it's placed incorrectly." 

Cain had to admit that not being a werewolf had some distinct disadvantages when it came to attempting a mating bite. Part of him didn't care at all if he did it properly or not – the blood-hungry vampire side of him, most likely – while the other half of him felt like trying to guess how to meet the instinctual need of a werewolf without any instincts of his own to guide him was an exercise in futility. There was no way this was going to work. But he didn't exactly have any other options, and he didn't want the werewolf to suffer needlessly. So he would try and aim for the spot the young man indicated, and hope it worked (but not too well, because he didn't want a lovesick wolf following him around any more than he wanted desperate thralls following him around).

"Anything else I should know?" Cain asked drily.

Damien broke eye contact then, flushing as he said, "I need to be knotted."

Cain was not familiar with that term. "Knotted?"

"While you bite me," Damien said, missing the direction of Cain's confusion. "Or the claim won't take."

Cain asked, more explicitly, "What is knotted?" 

Damien's eyes flew wide. "Oh," he said, and the flush in his cheeks spread to his whole face, even creeping down his neck. "It's… because I'm omega, in the bond – at least that's how it looks like it's presenting – I'm the one who needs the knot."

Cain was going to start losing his temper if Damien didn't give him a definition of the word knot in the next minute. 

As if sensing his displeasure, Damien said, "It's – for a mating bond, two out of three places require intense physical contact. Which of the two depends on the side of the bond being expressed. An alpha will pop a knot, which is… uh," Damien gestured at his crotch. "Extra girth, towards the base? Usually additional pressure down there is needed during a mating bond." 

Cain had known that there was a sexual component to mating bonds and werewolf mates in general. But vampires typically didn't… that was not a function of the vampire's body. And getting erect at all, much less adding girth, was often an exercise in futility. Vampires were corpses kept animated and preserved, they didn't reproduce through human means. The basic vascular system and sensations still existed, but vampires were cold. Their blood didn't flow quickly. It often took far longer to get anything moving than with a living being. 

"Omegas," Damien continued, sounding even more embarrassed as he spoke, "need pressure too, but the pressure should be… internal…"

Internal pressure. But Damien was a male werewolf, with, he assumed, the typical anatomical structures that implied. "How does that work, given…" Cain gestured at Damien's body.

"Female alphas and male omegas undergo a… minor transformation," Damien said slowly. "Female alphas gain… length and girth. For male omegas, a second channel forms just inside the entrance."

"I suppose given the close ties to transformation magic that's not a surprise," Cain murmured. "Does it happen during the full moon, or…?" 

"It can happen in the days leading up to the full moon," Damien said slowly. "It isn't as taxing as total body transformation." 

Cain felt his eyes drawn unbidden to Damien's lower region, oddly curious despite himself. "Are you… do you have…? Now?"

Damien ducked his head, saying, "I don't know, I would have to check…"

How could the wolf not notice a second channel forming? Wouldn't it hurt? 

His skepticism seemed to be showing on his face, because Damien said, "When you left your room, the rejection I experienced was… anyway, there was a lot of pain involved. I'm not sure if any of that was transformation, or it was all from rejecting the bond." 

"So, if I am making a correct assumption, that second channel takes the knot of an alpha, and applies pressure?"

"And it is pressured in return," Damien explained. "Internal pressure, like I said."

"Can that be managed without a knot?" Cain asked. "Could you find the right place inside the channel and apply pressure… manually?"

Damien considered the question. "Probably," he said. 

"Could you do it yourself?" Cain asked, mostly because the idea of engaging in sexual contact – penetration, even – with someone forced into an impossible situation made him nauseous. He wasn't sure he'd be able to get it up, much less keep it there, considering how much of a struggle that was on an average day. 

"Maybe," Damien said, looking uncertain. 

"Try," Cain suggested, because he didn't want to do anything more than was absolutely necessary to complete this bond. 

Damien's face grew, if possible, even redder. "Now?!" 

Cain just stared at him, wondering when he thought would be a better time? Were they not actively running out of time? The full moon was coming, his blood-hunger was growing stronger, and the werewolf was getting weaker. What could possibly make him think that waiting was a good idea? "When else do you suggest?"

The werewolf stared back at him for a long moment, then reached for the waistband of his trousers, sliding them to his ankles and stepping out of them, glaring at Cain. "Stop staring," he hissed, covering the front of himself with his hands, despite the fact that he was still wearing his smallclothes. They were as tattered and ragged from Crowe's torture as the rest of his clothes, but they still mostly covered the unmentionables.

Still, Cain didn't see the point in arguing, so he moved to the end of the bed and sat facing the wall. "The bed is all yours," he said, then frowned. If they'd been in his own room, there might have been some oil or something in one of his drawers to help ease the penetration. But this was a spare room for the thralls. It was hardly a well-appointed space. Bearing that in mind, the werewolf was likely aiming to prepare himself dry. There might be tearing involved in the process, which would likely draw blood. 

Cain had applied his saliva to most of the werewolf's chest and abdomen to heal the wounds there, but he wasn't sure the wolf was prepared for Cain to apply his vampire saliva to such a personal location. Cain himself wasn't necessarily opposed to the act – it hadn't been a problem when he'd been human, and it wasn't like the idea of it disgusted him any more as a vampire – but he wasn't sure that the werewolf wanted such a thing. And, as with penetration, Cain wasn't particularly interested in doing things that the wolf wasn't comfortable accepting.

He heard a few more shuffling noises, and then Damien grunted softly. 

Cain considered covering his ears, not sure he was interested in hearing the werewolf's struggle to prepare himself for a mating bond neither of them particularly wanted. But he didn't want to be surprised if Damien ended up bleeding, and not notice until the smell alerted him. Better to listen and hear if anything went wrong.

"Ugh," Damien said a moment later, "Yeah, okay, it's… there…" 

Cain wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. "So you can apply pressure as needed?" he asked, still pointedly not looking at the werewolf.

"Maybe," Damien said, sounding a bit annoyed, a raw edge of pain in his tone. "It's… not the easiest position. My back…"

Right, Cain hadn't gotten around to healing the lash marks from Crowe's torture yet. That was probably something they should consider working on, either before or after the whole bond bite situation was dealt with. "Do you need… help with that?" he asked.

Damien hissed, shuffled uncomfortably, and then said, "Maybe that would be better."

Cain waited for a moment, then asked, "Should I turn around, then?"

"Gonna be hard to help if you don't," Damien said, aggravation clear in his tone.

Cain fought the urge to roll his eyes and turned, only to freeze in place. The werewolf was facedown on the bed, yes, but he wasn't lying flat. His chest was pressed down against the mattress, but his ass was in the air, his knees tucked under him. There were a few stray marks from Crowe's claws and whips curling over the, in all honesty, mediocre curve of flesh. 

The werewolf was probably more attractive when he was filled out, but Damien had been fighting mate sickness for nearly two moon cycles now, and his body reflected the harshness of that reality. Still, it wasn't a bad-looking ass, and it was oddly… moist, almost oozing near the entrance, as if the wolf had somehow found a lubricant after all? Or was it… self-lubricating? Was that something that omega werewolves did? Cain wasn't sure how that was possible, but he definitely hadn't heard the wolf uncapping a bottle. He didn't want to think about it too hard. 

What bothered him the most, though, was the position that the werewolf had placed himself in. Damien was… what did werewolves call it, presenting? He was presenting for Cain. If vampires had a god he would have cursed them by name. As it stood, he internally cursed Brinn instead for this nonsense. 

"Damien," he said, slowly, trying not to lose his temper, "Why the hell is your ass…" he closed his eyes, "in the air?" …and leaking? He chose not to add the last bit, as much as he was curious, he wasn't sure he wanted the answer.

"You said you would help!" the werewolf spat, looking back over his shoulder at Cain, rage in his eyes, even as his ass wiggled invitingly. This was too much.

"I offered to help with your back," Cain clarified, and felt vaguely mollified to see the way the werewolf's face flushed red with sudden understanding.

Damien kicked his legs out, instantly dropping flat against the bed, burying his face in the blanket beneath him, groaning. "Of course," he said, voice muffled by the blanket. "That makes sense."

Cain resisted the urge to sigh, but only barely. "Would you like help with the application of pressure, as well?"

Damien didn't answer for a long second, then he said, "Maybe start with my back?"

Cain didn't know if he wanted to help anymore, but he recognized that leaving the wolf's back looking like that would probably not enhance the mating experience in any way. "I'll need to use my saliva again," he said.

"That's okay," Damien said, barely turning his head so he could catch his breath before once more burying his face into the mattress. The tips of his pointed ears poked out from his mass of wavy brown hair, as bright red as his face had been. 

"Last time I did that, you fell into a… state," Cain said, not sure how else to describe what had happened to Damien without calling it mate-hunger, which he felt certain the werewolf would not appreciate. 

"I'll hold back," Damien promised. "I can keep it together."

Can you? Cain wondered. The injuries on the wolf's back were almost entirely scabbed over, unlike the bites around his throat. They were unlikely to provide much in terms of sustenance, not dissimilar to the wounds that had been cut into his chest. And Cain had offered his help, so he felt that revoking the offer would be in poor taste, even if Damien did sink back into that… mate-hunger. And this time, he supposed, he had the werewolf's consent to help with that, too. He knew where to put the mate-bite, and he knew vaguely what was required with regards to the internal pressure, so even if Damien did slip away, he would be able to complete the steps. 

He hoped, almost desperately, that if Damien did slip away into that mate-hunger, he wouldn't remain like that. The werewolf's behavior in that moment had seemed too close to that of a thrall, all dazed and desperate for Cain. It had left a bad taste in his mouth, despite the sweetness of the werewolf's blood. "All right," Cain said, turning and moving closer to the werewolf, dipping his face closer to the worst of the lash marks that ripped from Damien's right shoulder to the top of his left hip. "Let's see what I can do about these injuries."