He heard the voices before he saw them - loud voices, angry voices… threatening voices. His first reaction was to curse beneath his breath. He had taken this long-abandoned shortcut through the forest, rather than the main road, specifically because he did not want to risk meeting anyone. His second reaction was to wonder what the hell anyone beside himself was doing, this deep in the forest, several hours after dark.

He had not planned to be out today at all, but young Molly Hopkins had gone into labour nearly a month before her time, and her frightened husband had pleaded with Viggo to come to her. He had delivered the baby, a dangerously small and weak boy-child, and had stayed until he was sure the infant would be able to suckle. Whatever else befell this night, he had ushered a new life into the world, and made two parents very happy. He'd been able to assure them that as long as the child continued to nurse as strongly as he had begun, they could look forward to raising a fine, healthy son.

But the sun had already set an hour since before he set out on the long walk back to his isolated estate. He had long since given up keeping a horse, though he could walk swiftly and tirelessly at need, and should have been able to make his way home before time if he met no delays. He paused, considering his options.

Without question, if he stopped, he was putting himself in danger, but he would not be the man he was if he ignored the growing sounds of struggle and simply walked on. Since he was, most of the time, a prudent man, he stayed hidden in the shadows of the trees, letting his eyes adapt to the brightness of the torches before he approached. There were four men in the small clearing where two forgotten tracks met. Three of them wore the rough clothing of farm labourers. In fact, he thought he recognized the largest of the three as a foreman at the nearby dairy. The fourth man, the one who was struggling, wore the clothing of a gentleman, though his jacket had been torn off in the struggle and his white linen shirt was half unpulled from his trousers.

At first he thought the trio sought to rob their well-dressed victim, but as he watched the darkly handsome stranger struggle, he noticed that his hands were already bound together before him. At a signal from the one who seemed to be the leader, the other two men pinned their captive to the ground. The chief ruffian stretched the young man's arms roughly over his head, driving a stake into the ground between the knot with a heavy hammer. The prisoner kicked and bucked wildly, but the three larger men managed to secure his legs in a similar manner. Then, to Viggo's horror, the leader picked up a third stake and knelt beside the captive's chest. Positioning the stake over the stranger's heart, he raised the mallet to deliver a killing blow.

"Stop!" Viggo roared, striding into the clearing. He could feel his pulse hammering as the attackers turned to face him. His hands curled into fists, the nails cutting into his palms as he held them clenched at his sides. "Release that man at once!"

His sudden appearance startled the leader, causing his blow to fall awry, the mallet only grazing the head of the stake. It still carried enough force to drive the tip of the wooden spike into the captive's chest. Viggo watched a pulse of crimson bloom against the stark whiteness of the man's linen shirt.

The assailant rose to his feet and stepped forward, his face contorted with anger. "That is no man - he's a vampire!" the ruffian spat. "And the one sure way to rid the world of his evil is to drive a stake through his heart at a crossroads on the night of the full moon."

"We're only a few years away from the twentieth century - you can't still believe such superstitious claptrap," Viggo scoffed, his voice low and urgent. "If you kill him, you'll be committing murder, and the law will come after you. Do you want that on your heads? What will become of your families if you are arrested? Let him go and be on your way before you do something that can't be undone."

Viggo could see his words begin to sink into the two followers, who started to back away from their supine captive, but the leader stood his ground. "Three of the master's best milk cows have been killed in the past weeks. He's the only stranger in the village - he arrived the same night the killings began, and no one's seen him outside his rooms in the daylight. It's only a matter of time before the monster moves on to human blood. He needs to be stopped now - and if you try to interfere, we'll stop you too."

He could feel his anger growing at the farmer's words, but Viggo fought to keep his voice steady as he said, "It hasn't gone too far to stop yet. Let him go now, before any further harm is done, I beg you." He stepped forward, his arms spread from his side, forcing himself to unclench his fists. "I'm a physician. Let me see to him…"

With a shout, the leader sprang at Viggo, swinging the mallet at his head. The doctor caught his hand and wrenched the arm backward, hard enough to dislocate it. With a keen of pain, the man dropped the hammer and fell to his knees, his arm dangling uselessly. Viggo stood panting, the pounding pulse in his head making it difficult to speak. His hands curled into fists again as he addressed the two cowering accomplices. "I don't want to hurt you," he growled. "Take him and get out of here. Now!"

As if released from a spell, the two men ran to their friend's side, lifting him to his feet and supporting him between them as they took off into the forest. Viggo dropped to his knees at the wounded man's side, pressing down on the young man's chest in an effort to stop the bleeding. Judging by the scarlet pool that spread over the front of the victim's shirt, the physician wasn't sure he wasn't already too late.

To his surprise, the injured man stirred. Looking for the first time at the victim's face, Viggo felt a stir of shock at the beauty of the pale features surrounded by a halo of dark, wavy hair. The long eyelashes fluttered and opened to reveal mesmerizing brown eyes flecked with golden highlights. Viggo felt as if he were being drawn into some bottomless, ancient pool, the rush of his anger transforming into lust as his gaze fell to the stranger's thin, sensuous lips.

The lips parted and the stranger spoke, his voice rich, warm and compelling. "Release me," he commanded softly. Leaving his hand pressed to the wound, Viggo stretched and easily pulled out the spike that restrained the man's hands. The stranger sat up, tearing the rope from his wrists and reaching down to free his legs. Viggo drew his hand away, finding that the ooze of blood had stopped. Peeling the gory shirt from the stranger's chest, he watched as the edges of the wound knit together, until only a thin scar remained on the smooth, sculpted torso.

"Are you what they say you are?" Viggo asked, though he already knew the answer. He merely wanted to hear the stranger speak again.

The vampire inclined his head, his eyes holding Viggo's stormy gaze. "Does that not terrify you?" he asked in a voice of wonder.

"You cannot harm me," the physician asserted. "Nor have I heard that you have harmed any human. But you should not remain here, it will not be safe for you any longer."

"Healing myself has drained me," the vampire countered. "I must feed again before I go."

Viggo considered for a moment, then extended his wrist. "Feed from me," he offered, his voice hoarse from the effort of restraint.

The vampire's luminous eyes grew wide with surprise. "Do you not fear I will drink the life from you?" he asked.

"I do not fear it," Viggo replied. He knew he could not die from loss of blood; he'd already tried. "Take all you need to restore yourself. I only ask that you perform a boon for me when you have finished."

The stranger took Viggo's wrist in his long, elegant hands. The vampire's skin was cool to the touch as he turned back the cuff of the physician's shirt. His tongue flicked out to moisten his lips, and Viggo could feel the hackles rise on the back of his neck as arousal coursed through him.

"May I ask the name of the one from whom I feed?" the vampire inquired, raising the doctor's wrist to his mouth. Viggo could feel warm breath stirring the hairs against his skin. He shuddered as the vampire's tongue traced moistly over his throbbing vein.

"My name is Viggo Mortensen," he answered, his own tongue feeling thick and clumsy in his mouth. "I am - a physician," he continued, swallowing as he felt the graze of sharp teeth against his skin.

"I am Orlando," the vampire murmured, and then the fangs sank into his flesh, and Viggo felt his blood surge hotly at the fierce suction of the stranger's mouth. Their gazes locked as Orlando drank deeply, their pulses synchronizing to a single heartbeat. Viggo watched the muscles of his companion's long throat flex as he swallowed, watched the ashen skin grow warm and rosy with the infusion of his own life-blood. He fought down a growing compulsion to respond in kind, to seize the slender creature and tear at the unprotected skin of his neck. He wrenched his gaze away and closed his eyes, but though he could feel himself weakening the hunger inside grew no less demanding.

Finally, the vampire lifted his head, licking the traces of crimson from his blood-stained lips. "That will be enough to sustain me," he asserted, lapping gently over the minute incisions on Viggo's wrist to heal them. "I must thank you, twice, for coming to my aid." His gaze raked appreciatively over the physician's lean body. "Now, what may I do for you in return?"

Already, Viggo was beginning to feel the flush of heat and the dull, steadily throbbing ache that presaged the transformation. He knew he did not have much time left. "Tie me to one of these trees," he answered, rising to his feet. "Bind me as securely as you can, so there is no chance I can free myself."

The vampire stared at him in disbelief. "You want me to restrain you? Why?"

"It's too late for me to reach my home before the moon rises," Viggo responded, the throb of his pulse growing louder in his ears. "When that happens… I can't be free. I could hurt someone, kill them - even you." His eyes fell as he bent to pick up the coil of rope the assailants had left when they fled. "I can't take that chance."

Understanding dawned in Orlando's eyes. "You're a lycan?" he questioned, trying to imagine this seemingly gentle, compassionate man metamorphosing into a mindless, ravening beast.

"I have no name for this foul curse," Viggo retorted. "I only know what I become at every full moon, since I was attacked by what I thought was a mad wolf, on a night very much like this one. In all the years since then, I have sought in vain to find a cure for this abomination. All I can do is keep myself locked away on these nights, somewhere I can do no harm to anyone." He forced his mind way from the tortured memory of the times before he had learned to confine himself. "It's too late for that now. The only recourse is for you to restrain me, securely enough that I cannot escape."

"And after I restrain you, what then?"

"Then you may leave, though I would counsel you against returning to the village," Viggo warned. "I frightened those louts away for the moment, but if you go back, they will try to kill you again."

"I can't simply leave you here," the vampire protested. "What if you're wrong, and those men come back? What if they don't come back, how will you free yourself come morning? You could die yourself, trapped here."

Viggo had given up hoping for death to release him from the nightmare that had become his life. "That will not be your concern," he rasped. He would free himself somehow; he always did. "You need only ensure the bonds will hold until morning." His voice grew desperate as the stranger hesitated and the roaring in his head grew so loud it began to drown out all other sound. "You gave your word," he snarled.

"Very well," Orlando conceded. "I will bind you."

Nodding in relief, Viggo stripped off his jacket and shirt, folding them neatly and setting them to the side. At least if he managed to free himself afterward, he would be able to clothe himself. He had just begun to unfasten his breeches when the first wave of agony struck. He nearly doubled over as the convulsions swept through his muscles and clawed at his bones. The pale glow of moonrise was beginning to lighten the horizon. "Hurry," he panted, sagging against a lichened tree and wrapping his arms behind him around the trunk. "Bind me now…" His voice trailed into a bay of torment as the pain racked through him.

Orlando picked up the heavy rope from where Viggo had let it fall, quickly securing it around the physician's wrists and ankles, looping it around the tree and pulling the knots as tight as his preternatural strength would allow. When he finished, he knelt at the base of the tree, staring up at the body pinioned against the mossy trunk. The physician's toned chest was covered by a pelt of soft hair that thinned to a vee until it vanished beneath the loosened waist of his trousers. Corded muscles in his arms tested the strength of the bonds that immobilized him. A low rumble, of approval or of protest Orlando was not sure, sounded from his chest when he found they held him fast.

Burning fire coursed through Viggo's blood, until it seemed that even his vision was coloured through a reddened haze. His breath shortened to ragged panting as he fought to retain enough control to speak. "Thank you," he husked to the vampire kneeling before him. "You may go now." His face contorted as another burst of pain stabbed through him.

"I'm not leaving you like this," Orlando insisted. Rising to his feet, he stepped forward until his chest nearly brushed against Viggo's, the heat of his now-warm body adding to the fever consuming the lycan. Viggo shuddered as the vampire's hands combed through the fur on his chest, crying out when they discovered his hardened nipples. His cock strained against the constrictive front of his breeches, mingling the sensations of pleasure and pain.

Orlando leaned closer still, trapping his hands between their bodies as his tongue lapped at the artery pounding in Viggo's throat. The physician could feel the vampire's teeth grazing his skin and arched his neck to bare it further, half-hoping he would drink from him again; but Orlando's mouth only followed the straining tendons up his throat, teasing him with nips intended to heightened his desire.

When their mouths met at last, the kiss was feral, lips and teeth clashing as they fought each other for dominance. The coppery taste of his own blood on the vampire's tongue roused Viggo's hunger and he bit down on Orlando's lower lip until he tore the skin, sucking greedily at the hot, thick blood.

Viggo growled viciously when Orlando broke free from the kiss. The vampire once more dropped to his knees, pulling down Viggo's breeches to free his leaking cock. The scent of his own musk was a potent aphrodisiac to the physician's intensified senses. He could feel his rationality slipping away, helpless to resist the bestial need that consumed him. When Orlando cupped him roughly and took the thick shaft into his mouth, Viggo released an animalistic roar, his hips thrusting forward involuntarily to bury himself even deeper in the voluptuous heat.

Orlando's' teeth raked over the sensitized flesh, too lost in his own carnal pleasure to hold himself back. He sucked as strongly as he had at the physician's wrist, the taste of pre-come as heady in its way as the savour of blood. Viggo's lustful vocalizations fanned his own passions until, with a final nip at the head of the livid cock, the vampire stood. Tearing aside the last of his own clothing, he reclaimed Viggo's mouth in a rabid kiss, spreading his legs to wrap around the lycan's hips. Steadying himself on Viggo's broad shoulders, he pulled himself upward and impaled himself in a single plunge on the slickened shaft.

A brutish cry tore from Viggo's throat as he was encased in searing, savage pressure. Orlando rode him fiercely, his cock rutting against Viggo's belly as they devoured each other's mouths with bruising kisses. The fever in the lycan's blood grew overwhelming, enflaming him, leaving him mindless with need. His hips thrust wantonly, forcing himself deeper into the vampire's clenching channel. He felt the hot spray of Orlando's seed between their bodies, and the sudden contractions around his cock drove him to a frenzy. Throwing back his head, Viggo howled his release to the silvery disk in the heavens. The last shreds of his consciousness burned away, and madness took him.

~~~~~

Viggo returned gradually to awareness to find Orlando, once more clothed in his bloodstained garments, untying his bonds. He did not know how many hours had passed; though the moon hung low in the sky, it had not yet set. His every muscle and sinew ached, his wrists and ankles were rubbed raw from straining against the coarse rope that had restrained him - but his mind was clear of the madness. Astonished to have retained any shred of humanity, he could only surmise that his weakness following Orlando's feeding and the fierce intensity of his orgasm had somehow combined to prevent the transformation from completing.

"The sun will be rising soon. I must find shelter," the vampire murmured, rising to his feet. "Do you know of anywhere near I may wait out the day?"

"There is an old abandoned iron mine in the hills just over the ridge," Viggo said slowly. He rubbed at the abraded skin around his wrists, flushing slightly as he pulled up his trousers and looked about for the remainder of his clothing. "We should be able to reach there before sunrise if we leave at once."

A smile crossed Orlando's face at the implications of the lycan's repeated, unexpected use of the word "we". Leaning forward, he captured Viggo's mouth in a kiss that was every bit as heated, if slightly less brutal, than the ones they had exchanged the night before. "Why, Viggo," he grinned, "I think this may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Unable to help himself, Viggo smiled in return. He had no idea where this relationship would lead, but for the first time in more years than he could remember, he was looking forward to finding out.