Chapter Text
Sanctum never slept, but that night he seemed particularly exhausted.
Stephen Strange lay on his back on the cold library floor, his red cloak somewhere. He had spent the last seventy-two hours fighting interdimensional monsters, and the price was always the same: hunger. A hunger that couldn't be quelled with herbal tea or meditation.
He felt the ancient poison coursing through his veins, reminding him that it had been almost a month since he had drunk from a living source. Synthetic blood kept his body functioning, but it didn't calm the beast within his chest. It didn't quell the throbbing in his fangs.
A loud bang downstairs made him suddenly open his golden eyes.
"Capa, if you're the one knocking over another bookshelf, I swear I'll send you back to the K'un-Lun Desert," he muttered, his voice hoarse.
It wasn't the cover.
The scent arrived before the sound of footsteps: ozone, expensive leather, 60-year-old whiskey, and something else… something wild. Wolf. Alpha. Tony Stark.
Stephen rose to his feet in a movement too fluid for someone who looked as if he were on the verge of collapse. His hands trembled slightly as he clenched his fist, concealing the claws that had begun to grow.
“Stark,” he said, when the man appeared at the top of the stairs, without knocking, obviously. “The door has a function. It’s called ‘being used’.”
Tony's suit was impeccable, but his golden eyes betrayed that the full moon was two days away. The beast was restless. And, it seemed, looking for a fight.
"Strange." Tony grinned, that shark-like grin that made investors tremble and journalists drool. "You look like shit."
– And you look like a dog that escaped from the kennel again. What do you want?
Tony approached slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. The arc reactor on his chest glowed blue through his white shirt, which was open at the top button. Always showing off.
"I need a favor," he said, stopping three meters away. A safe distance. At least for humans.
Stephen raised an eyebrow. "You. Need a favor. From me." He gave a dry, humorless laugh. "The universe really did end while I was sleeping."
Tony shoved his hands into his pockets, the movement causing his jacket to open wider. The alpha scent grew stronger. Stephen felt his fangs ache.
"It's not for me," Tony continued, his voice losing some of its mocking tone. "It's for Peter ."
The name hit me like a punch in the gut.
Peter Parker. Seventeen years old. Bitten accidentally on patrol with Tony eight months ago. The cub that the entire Stark clan protected tooth and nail. The boy who looked at Stephen with wide eyes and called him "Mr. Doctor Strange" with admiration, whom Stark hated.
"What happened to him?" Stephen asked, his voice lower now. Dangerous.
“He’s having premature transformation fever. The full moon is still forty-eight hours away, but his body is trying to change before then. His bones…” Tony swallowed hard, and for a second the arrogance vanished. “He’s been screaming in pain for six hours. Nothing I do helps. Not even the doctors. I thought…” he shrugged, as if it hurt to admit it, “…maybe ancient magic could hold it off until the moon.”
Stephen closed his eyes for a second. Hunger throbbed behind his teeth. The image of the boy writhing in pain was worse than any torture Dormammu had ever attempted.
"Take me to him," he said, opening a golden portal with a gesture.
Tony hesitated. "You're…" he pointed vaguely at Stephen's face. "Your eyes are red. When was the last time you really fed?"
That's none of your business.
Yes, if you bite my puppy while trying to help.
Stephen took a step forward, the cloak fluttering on its own. The room temperature dropped ten degrees.
"I would never hurt Peter. Never." The voice came out as a low growl. Now it was Tony who took a step back. "You don't know me well, Stark."
“I know vampires,” Tony retorted, but there was something almost… worried in his eyes. “And I know you when you’re hungry. You become unbearable.”
"And you're always unbearable," Stephen retorted, already crossing the portal. "Let's go, little wolf. Your cub needs me more than you need to win an argument."
Tony snorted, but followed him.
The portal opened directly into Peter's room in Stark Tower. The smell of pain and fear suffocated the air. The boy was on the bed, curled up, his body trembling violently. His face was pale, dark veins rising up his neck – a sign that the transformation was trying to force its way through.
May Parker was standing beside the bed, her eyes red from crying. When she saw Stephen, she almost fell to her knees.
– Doctor Strange… please…
Stephen wasted no time. He knelt beside the bed, his hands glowing with orange magic. He ran his fingers across Peter's sweaty forehead, murmuring in a language that made the air vibrate.
"Quiet, little spider," he whispered. "I'll hold you."
Peter opened his brown eyes, filled with tears and pain.
"It hurts... so much..." he managed to say, his voice faltering.
I know. Breathe with me.
Tony stood in the doorway, his fists clenched. His alpha instinct screamed to protect, to tear away anyone who approached, but he held back. Because it was Stephen. And because Peter trusted the vampire more than almost anyone.
Stephen's magic enveloped the boy's body like a warm blanket. The dark veins began to recede slowly. The tremors subsided. Peter let out a relieved sob and gripped Stephen's cold hand as if it were an anchor.
"Thank you..." whispered the boy, already falling asleep as the magic induced him.
Stephen stood there, holding the boy's hand, until he was sure the crisis had passed. Only then did he stand up. The effort had been costly – he staggered slightly.
Tony was right behind him, his arm outstretched as if to support him, but he stopped halfway.
"You're as white as a sheet," the werewolf murmured.
- I am fine.
"That's a blatant lie." Tony looked at his own wrist, then at Stephen. "You need blood. Alpha blood better quenches that ancient hunger, right?"
Stephen froze. “Don’t you dare offer,” he said, his voice dangerous. “I don’t drink from… from friends.”
“We’re not friends,” Tony replied, too quickly. Then he cleared his throat. “But Peter considers you family. That’s something. And I…” He took a step closer, the alpha scent filling Stephen’s nostrils like a drug. “I trust you with him. So go. Drink.”
Stephen looked at the offered pulse. The vein throbbing strongly. Tony's heart beating too fast for someone pretending to be calm.
"You don't know what you're offering," Stephen said, but his voice was already hoarse with desire.
“I know exactly,” Tony replied, his golden eyes fixed on Strange’s. “I’m a grown alpha, Strange. I can handle a hungry vampire. And you saved my pup. We’re even.”
A heavy silence fell over the room.
Stephen took a step forward. Then another. Until he was close enough to feel the warmth of Tony's body – something vampires normally hated, but now seemed… necessary.
"Just a little," he whispered, almost pleading.
"As much as you need," Tony replied, tilting his head to the side, exposing his neck. The submissive gesture of an alpha was something Stephen never, ever imagined seeing from Anthony Stark.
Stephen's fangs descended completely.
He held Tony's arm with excessive care, as if afraid of breaking it. His mouth found the vein in his wrist. The smell was intoxicating.
When the teeth pierced the skin, Tony let out a hoarse sound – not of pain, but something quite different. Stephen drank once. Twice. The alpha blood was liquid fire, restoring every dead cell in his body.
When he stepped back, his eyes still red, Tony was breathing heavily, his pupils dilated. There was a perfect mark on his wrist – two small punctures, already healing with werewolf speed.
"There," Tony said, his voice deeper than usual. "Now you don't look like a walking corpse anymore."
Stephen wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to ignore how intimate that had been.
"Don't do that again," he warned.
"I'm not promising anything," Tony replied with a crooked smile. "You're more bearable after you've been fed."
Stephen rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched – almost a smile.
He left the room without saying anything more, his cloak billowing in the wind. Tony stared at the spot where he'd been, absentmindedly touching the mark on his wrist.
In the hallway, Stephen leaned against the wall, his heart, which hadn't beaten in ages, feeling like it was about to leap out of his chest.
"Damn it, Stark," he muttered to himself.
And in the room, Peter slept peacefully for the first time in days.