This one-shot is about canon Vladimir and Ezreal in an established but still fairly new relationship. They've been together for probably only a few months, and still don't know a lot of things about one another. One of my friends confessed to staring at Vladimir's claws in his new splash art and, well, one thing led to another. Warnings for some bloodplay and sex.

Thank you for reading!

I knew that Vladimir was talking, heard the gentle hum of his voice as I leaned against the man's warm chest. But for the life of me, I didn't know what Vladimir had been talking about all this time.

His hands traced designs in the air, emphasizing his point with circular waves and graceful gestures. My eyes traced each motion. I was unable to tear my attention from the way his claws glinted in the evening light, the way the ends tapered into curved points. They were beautiful and vicious, an extension of Vlad himself.

I wasn't sure how long I'd wanted those claws against my skin. Had I developed my obsession when I'd watched him polish them, spending much too long running his hands across them? That night when he'd stoked up the fire, and let me lay on his lap as he stroked each claw meticulously, up and down, fast then slow? When they gleamed like mirrors on every side, he carefully placed them in a velvet-lined box for safekeeping. Then he'd start on the next one, and my torment would begin anew.

Or no, had it been the night I'd been attacked? Vladimir had stopped the man who assaulted me with the flash of a grin and a swipe of his hand. The man had toppled, five points as sharp as razors scraping the skin from his ribs. Vladimir's tongue had lathed at the metal after that, lapping up the man's blood once he'd disposed of the body. Something about the way his tongue glided over the smooth metal had made me gulp and try not to watch.

Perhaps it was even more complicated than that. All the times he'd feverishly stripped my clothes off, too rushed to remember to remove the claws. The way he fumbled with buttons and belts, the way the claws shredded through cloth with a satisfying tear. The feeling of sharp, cold metal on my scalp before he finally took them off.

Of course, he'd think I was a freak.

I shifted in his lap, pants uncomfortably tight. I tried to control myself, hold back my furious blush, reciting the proto-Zaunite alphabet in my head to will myself into calmness. After the third time through, I was starting to hear Vladimir's words once again.

"...That's when I ulted him! He looked so surprised. And you did a wonderful job of bringing all of your tricks to the battle that ensued. I'm glad I could secure a triple kill for you, Ezreal." He kissed the top of my head gently, still surprisingly excited about the last match we'd shared at the Institute of War. He was adorable when he acted like this, which was becoming less rare as I spent more time with him.

He held me, and I leaned back against his shoulder. He made a soft noise like a purr in his throat, and brushed his lips against my shoulder. He was warm, and stable, and calm. I closed my eyes, just listening to his soft breathing and rhythmic heartbeat. We were content to stay like that for a few long moments. Then Vladimir shifted.

"Mmm, I think I'll go for a bath," he mumbled next to my ear. He kissed me on the head again, and then stood, brushing his claws against my sides as he rose.

I tried diligently to not let it affect me. Of course, I failed horribly. Luckily, Vladimir kept his back to me as he walked to the wardrobe. His long red coat came off easily, the silken material sliding smoothly down his arms and back. The sleeves slipped off with a soft tug on each, and I couldn't stop staring at his skillful manipulation regardless of the metal claws on his fingers. The fabric flowed across the sharp tips like blood as he neatly folded the garment and placed it on a shelf.

He carefully pulled each finger from inside the metal jewelry, and placed the claws, one by one, inside his velvet-lined box. He closed it with a click.

"Will you be in bed when I return?" he asked, still turned away from me. I began to open my mouth, and ended up holding it open as he let his shirt drop to the floor. The white cotton fell soundlessly, revealing Vladimir's unblemished back. He was lean with muscle, and the way he rolled his shoulders displayed his ribs as well as his power.

"I'll, uh, be there," I stammered, and shifted so I could hug my knees to my chest.

Vladimir hooked his toes into his shirt, and lifted it by bending his knee until he could grab it. He tossed this article into the round basket at the bottom of the wardrobe, intending to wash it.

"I'll look forward to it," he purred, turning to face me. He was smirking.

My face was burning red now. I studied his torso, reveling in the way his muscles sat on his thin hips, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

His long fingers tugged at the button on his pants, and when he'd unhooked it, he stepped sideways out of his last garment. Vladimir had never really adopted the habit of wearing underclothes, and one last tug left him bare.

I felt my pants tighten even further. Goddamn, I was still trying to figure out why a man with such a perfect figure would pick me, a scrawny boy, to keep in his life. He could have had his pick of any man or woman, but he'd only ever shown interest in me. Not that I'm complaining, of course.

He threw the pants into the basket on top of the shirt, and then made his way towards the bathroom. I stared as he left, watching his graceful strides and his weight shift from foot to foot.

When the door clicked shut, I rediscovered how to use my legs. I stood shakily, and heard Vladimir crank the knobs. The spigot opened, and the sound of running water drowned out the creak of the wardrobe opening. I couldn't help myself, he'd left his claws just there.

The box sat on the center shelf, the latch nothing more than a simple hook. It came undone in a single motion, and I lifted the lid. The velvet was dark red, pristine, and covered every inch without a single wrinkle. And therein lay those gorgeous claws.

I stared down at them, nearly inside the wardrobe now. The metal was some sort of alloy, darker than plain steel. Had Vladimir been able to get his hands on this much darksteel from the Ironspike mines? I gasped, and reached into the box. My hand shook as I touched the claw Vladimir wore on his left pinky.

I glanced to the bathroom door, but it was still shut and the water was still running. He never had to know. I'd only take it for a second, just to look at it.

It was heavier than it looked. My fingers slid across the length of it, and a shiver ran through me. Vladimir had used these for fights, but also for delicate tasks like holding a porcelain teacup or running it through my hair.

I pressed the flat side to my lips. It was cool, and had the faint tangy smell of steel. I considered running my tongue along the side as I'd seen Vlad do. I checked the door. Still closed.

I gave it an experimental lick, but it wasn't long enough to enjoy. So I licked it again, this time letting my tongue wander from the knuckle joint to the tip. There was a hint of blood still on it. I vaguely wondered whose it was.

There was a shrill creak from the bathroom, and the water shut off. I jumped and stuck the claw back into its padded case with wide eyes, but the door remained closed. I heard Vladimir sigh deeply as he sank into his warm bath. I breathed through my nose, trying to slow my panicked heartbeat. I heard the water swish. I still had time.

The claw was slightly crooked, but instead of straightening it out, I took it from the case again. I was curious; what would it feel like to wear his deadly jewelry? His fingers were larger than mine, so I stuck my forefinger into this smallest claw. It was still a little large for me, but it would have to do.

With this, I could pretend Vladimir knew, could pretend he was the one running the sharp point across my chest. I fumbled with my shirt for a moment before shucking it off and tossing it to the side of the bed. I'd just do it once, just to see what it was like. It wouldn't hurt to experiment briefly. Vladimir was splashing contentedly in the tub. He'd never find out.

After a moment of deliberation, I ran the claw down my sternum and across my stomach. At first, I was disappointed by how bland the sensation felt, but then I nicked myself with the cold steel. I bit down hard on my knuckle to keep from crying out.

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

I cursed under my breath as I tried to pull my pants off. The belts refused to unlatch without a good bit of clinking and struggling. I should have slowed down and unhooked them carefully, but all I could think of was testing the way Vladimir's claw would feel running across my thighs. Finally the stubborn leather pulled out of my belt loops, and I nearly fell while hopping out of the denim. I kicked them to the side, and then tugged my boxers off of my hips. I stepped out of the cotton underwear, and shoved them across the floor to join my pants and shirt.

It was easy enough to slide the curved claw down the inside of my thigh, and much more difficult to stay quiet. I repeated the motion, this time bringing the claw up the soft skin and leaving a thin red line. I dragged it up and over, letting it catch on the thick tendon between pelvis and femur, inhaling sharply. I doubled over. The pit of my stomach dropped, and I fell to my knees. I needed more.

I crawled into our bed with a little difficulty. My legs didn't want to cooperate anymore, and I nearly dropped the claw while climbing up onto the pillows. This way, if I collapsed, I wouldn't have very far to fall.

There was just one thing left to try, and just thinking of it made my face burn red with embarrassment. I dragged myself towards the bedside table, and fished around in the drawer for the familiar little bottle. I tried not to ponder over what I was considering doing to myself, and instead arranged myself into a comfortable position. I stayed face-down, and propped myself up with my knees. I spread my legs, and from here, it wouldn't be hard to slip my hands underneath myself.

The lube spread easily across the metal. As soon as the claw was dripping with the viscous liquid, I used two fingers to spread myself, and then carefully pushed the cold tip in.

I bit my lip. It slid in smoothly, and I wasn't able to bite back a moan. I crooked my finger as gingerly as possible, feeling the bite of the sharp tip inside of me. I winced and clenched my hand in the pillows, my toes curling from the sensation.

"Well, when I asked if you would be in bed when I finished, I hadn't been expecting this."

I froze. Shit. I hadn't even heard him get out of the bathtub.

"Uh, this isn't what it looks like," I squeaked and pulled the claw from myself. I started to close my legs when he stopped me with a growl.

"Don't move a muscle," he snarled. I closed my eyes with a whimper.

I'd seen what he could do to those who angered him. And he could do things worse than injure me. If he didn't feel like tearing me apart for soiling one of his precious claws, he could lazily rip my heart from my chest with a flick of his wrist or even just throw me out of his manor and forbid my presence. I think I would have preferred death by his hand to never seeing him again, honestly.

I waited for a blow, a harsh name, the sensation of blood bunching under my skin. I waited for him to disown me, tell me I was a freak.

Blood from my earlier experimentation began to drip from the cut on my leg. It tickled and itched on the way down, but I tried my hardest not to move.

I heard the latch on Vladimir's claw box snap closed. I grit my teeth. Maybe he would be kind and let me die on his claws.

"Now what am I going to do with you?" he hummed, amusement thick in his voice.

I didn't dare answer him.

His weight pressed down on the foot of the bed. He knelt over me, his hair dripping water across my back as he stared down at me. I heard him drop his towel across the bed, and then the clink of metal on metal. He took the claw from me, and wiped it across the damp cotton a few times before hooking it over his pinky. I swallowed loudly.

Vladimir growled again, and this time it was a deeper noise. Wait, he only took that tone when he was having sex with me. Did he...enjoy this?

He gripped the back of my neck with one full set of claws, and my mind went blank. His other hand went to my shoulder, and he dragged five hot lines into my back. The cuts were superficial, just tiny scratches trailing from my shoulderblade to my hip. I moaned and bit the pillow, my eyes wide.

His tongue traced one of the cuts, warm and stinging. I shivered, and he gasped into my skin. He seemed to go weak in the knees, and pressed his chest to my back. He began rocking his hips against me, grabbing my waist with his free hand.

Was he panting?

"What are you doing?" I whispered breathlessly. He immediately released me with a short hiss.

"'M sorry," he grumbled hastily, and I felt his hand trace over my cuts. A soft prickle, and the skin wove itself back together as if it had never happened. "I thought... but, no."

I watched Vladimir over my shoulder. He sat up straight, and then didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. I turned over and propped myself up on my elbows. He flexed his fingers, observing the last drops of blood clinging to the metal. And then I realized.

"You're into that?" I asked in a high-pitched voice. My eyes were huge with amazement.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, quieter this time.

"No, no," I stammered, waving one hand. "Don't be."

His eyes snapped to me.

"I liked it. I just never knew you would. I kinda... really like the feel of your claws." I was blushing again, damn my face!

"So, you don't mind me scratching you?" Vladimir asked, hesitant.

"As long as you don't go overboard," I grinned.

Vladimir crawled over me, and gently pressed me back into the bed. He dipped his head toward me, and pressed his lips to my own. He was still warm from the bath, and he smelled of soap and peppermint. I pulled him down as best I could, and deepened the kiss. His teeth were sharp, but he was cautious as he nipped my lower lip. He pulled away slowly, a smile now on his face.

"For you, I can restrain myself." He chuckled darkly.

He slid a hand behind my bleeding thigh, and lifted it to a bent position. He bent down, and kissed the cut I'd left there until I squirmed. He rubbed circles into it with the flat of his palm, closing the wound with minimal effort. He repeated the motions with the nick on my hip, first lathing his tongue over it to taste the coppery tang, then closing it with a motion. He moaned into my skin, and I ran my fingers through his nearly-dry hair to encourage him.

Vladimir shifted until he could grab my hips with both clawed hands. He pressed down, and without warning, sucked my length into his mouth as far as he could. I tried to buck my hips in surprise, and I opened my mouth with a gasp. He pressed the claws on his thumbs into my thighs, and I moaned embarrassingly loudly.

He worked his head up, then down again. The hand in his hair tightened as I tried to control myself. I felt him smirk around me, and I tugged lightly.

He released one hip in order to bring his hand down on my chest. I hissed as he clawed fresh cuts into my skin, then moaned a second time when he bobbed his head again. I closed my eyes and concentrated only on how it felt, the sting of wounds in open air, the slickness of the steel, the hot wet pressure of his mouth that held the threat of sharpened teeth.

Vladimir settled into a rhythm, and the dual sensations of pain and pleasure left me unable to do more than wrap my fingers in his hair and remember how to breathe. Then he swirled his tongue, and I pulled him away with a muffled yell.

"Not ready to finish yet?" he smirked, one eyebrow raised.

I cursed at him vaguely, unable to complete the word. "Hah, no," I try again.

He grins broadly down at me. I'm certain I looked like a mess, tousled hair and flushed red with pleasure. He greedily laps at the blood that's welled up on my chest, then transitions smoothly to laying kisses on my nipple. I tried to stifle a groan as he closed his lips around it, biting down on my lower lip.

He rolled me onto my stomach by pressing his claws into my side. I complied, anticipating his touch on my back. He kissed the back of my neck, then nipped my shoulder. The soft pinch made me inhale sharply. I wriggled on the sheets when he drew his claws down my back again. They were cold, and they raised goosebumps instead of blood this time. I gasped, and Vladimir bit down on the junction between my shoulder and neck.

A pleasured keen burst out of me before I could stop it, and Vladimir responded by rolling his hips against me. Tingles ran up my spine, and I tried to bury my face in the lavish pillows to quiet myself. Vlad huffed, and carefully pulled me up by the hair. He rocked against me again, and I clawed at the blankets.

My mind began to go hazy. All I could focus on was how the room was warm and his skin was warmer and how I needed him on me, against me, over me, in me.

"Mmm, Vlad, haaah," I managed to pant. He let me fall back to the pillows, but then lifted my leg with one slender hand. The metal brushed across my thigh. I spread my legs as he positioned me on my side, then hooked my knee over his shoulder.

"This, ahh, okay?" he hummed. His eyes were beginning to lose focus now, his claws tracing nonsensical patterns across my hip and thigh.

I checked the way he was angled, straddling my thigh as he held the other leg over his shoulder. I nodded once, and bit my lip.

"Grab the stuff," he said, motioning to the side table. I blinked, trying to understand for a moment, but finally stretched an arm into the drawer I'd left ajar. I pulled out the first square package I felt, and withdrew my hand. Then I grasped under the pillows for a second, feeling for the tube I'd discarded earlier. It was cold in my palm, and I extracted it from the pile with a flourish. I placed both into Vladimir's outstretched hand, and sighed as he popped the bottle's top open and squeezed a handful of lube out. He grabbed each claw on his right hand, one by one, in his teeth, and pulled them off. He then easily tore the small package open with his teeth, and slipped the condom on one-handed.

Then, Vladimir dipped three fingers into the clear goo and began to prepare me. It didn't take very long as I'd already done a quick job while he was taking his bath, but he thankfully wanted to do a more thorough one. His long fingers slid inside and stretched, hot anticipation gradually flooding my senses. He added more lube, and then more again, slicking me open with steady strokes. His clawed hand went to his own cock once I was ready, and he slicked the remainder of the lube onto himself with a throaty growl. He wiped his hands on the towel behind him, slipped the claws back on, and pressed the leg on his shoulder down towards my chest to spread me as far as I could go. His claws were cold against the sensitive back of my knee. I shuddered.

He plunged in. I gasped at the sensation, his length gliding in smoothly after all of his preparation. He leaned his weight into the movement, rising up on his knees and lifting my hips off of the bed. When he was fully pressed in, his hips fitting tightly against me, he let out a long breath and paused. I grabbed handfuls of the comforter and squeezed until my knucles were white.

Vladimir thrusted shallowly, his eyes never leaving my face. I threw my head back soundlessly, and he took that as a good sign. Both clawed hands were on the leg he'd thrown over his shoulder now, the sharp tips biting into my skin as he slowly withdrew and then snapped back in. The friction, the fullness, the heat, and the feel of him rubbing against that spot inside of me made me start to babble. It was whispered at first, a string of begging and Vladimir's name and compliments and anything that came to my mind all at one time. He nipped at the inside of my leg, his sharp teeth making me hiss and interrupt myself. He settled into a fast rhythm, matching his thrusts with the timing of his increasingly sharp love bites. I could feel the hot puffs of his breath against my skin with each impatient motion.

The position he was taking me in allowed him to reach deeper than ever before. He slid out until only the tip remained inside, sinking so he sat on his heels, then slammed in and lifted himself all in one motion. I cried out with pleasure; he stopped nipping and instead placed sloppy open-mouthed kisses on the marks he'd left there.

My inner thighs were beginning to get sore from the constant pressure.

"Vlad, it's getting painful, we should switch," I whimpered, and Vlad slowed his hurried thrusting. He was breathing hard, close to finishing, but didn't complain about the change. He crossed his legs, then offered me a hand. He helped me sit up, as I couldn't stop trembling at the loss of heat and pleasure, and pulled me into his lap. He held me quietly for a few moments, letting our pounding heartbeats fall into steady synch. His breath was hot against my cheek, and the smile I felt on the back of my neck was comforting.

After a short break, he urged me to lift my lower half so he could slip beneath me. I sat down slowly, helping him enter me a second time by gently holding his length and positioning him correctly. I felt warm and safe with my back against his lean chest and his arms around me.

He waited for me to exhale calmly before daring to move. The angle was different now, and I had to get used to the feeling of being so full all over again. He hummed in contentment, his chin now resting comfortably on my shoulder. I held his hands, and slowly nodded when I was ready.

His hips snapped. I threw my head back onto his shoulder, clutching at the backs of his hands. Vladimir moved his hands to my hips, holding me down over his cock, and made a happy noise like a purr. The vibration ran down my spine and made me shiver. He used the distraction to nip at my earlobe, which tickled a little bit. I squirmed in his grasp, and he rocked into me much harder this time. He was angled to hit my sensitive spot perfectly with every movement, and when he began thrusting with reckless abandon, the pleasure made me whimper softly. I spread myself as wide as I could, trying to find even more of that intense, coiling sensation that made my toes curl. Vladimir began swearing under his breath.

I guided one of his hands to my neglected cock, and wrapped his claws around the head. He grasped and stroked with the flat of his palm, then let the cold metal barely brush past with each pull. The claws on his other hand began to cut into my side, and I was forced to bite down on my knuckle for a second time that night.

"Ezreal, ahh, I'm close," Vlad managed to moan. The sound of his voice, gravelly with pleasure and spoken against my sensitive neck, was almost enough on its own to send me over the edge.

He twisted his hand around my cock and bit down on the nape of my neck with a snarl. I could feel him shaking with the power of his orgasm. He blindly grasped at my chest, the claws raking across my skin. He called my name.

I came with a whimper. Adrenalin pumped through me, brought on by the onslaught of perfect pain he'd inflicted. I closed my eyes and arched my back, my fingers lacing into his and holding his hands against my skin. He surrounded me, his legs beneath me, his arms around me, his body fitting perfectly against mine. My heart was pounding so forcefully, it drowned out the sound of the bed rocking with Vladimir's motions. He kept thrusting. All I could do was hold on and try to remember to breathe.

He finally fell still, catching his breath while holding me as tightly as his exhausted body could. He hummed against my skin, a satisfied noise, then lifted me just enough to slide his length out. I winced at the emptiness that followed, still trying to calm down after such a high. But then he moved his hands, and I hissed in pain.

He perked up immediately, and when he saw the damage his claws had done to my chest and hips, he gave an apologetic look. He carefully transferred me so I was laying on my back with my head on his shoulder and his arm around my back. Then, he spread the fingers of his other hand over my cuts, and meticulous willed the skin to lace back together.

"I couldn't hold back, my apologies," he murmured into my neck. "Do you feel better now that I've healed you?"

I couldn't answer right away. Relaxing in his arms felt too amazing, so I simply nodded my head. I tried to give him my best smile, but all I could manage was a sated crooked half-grin.

"You did so well tonight," he whispered into my ear. His kiss was so quick, it startled me, and I blinked a few times with curiosity.

He chuckled lightly, then shifted to get off of the bed. He supported me, his arm under my legs, and I clutched to his neck as he rose. He slipped the used condom off and discarded it, and then used the crumpled towel to dry us both off. After a few swipes, he tossed it to the floor beside my clothes, and then stripped the dirty comforter off of the mattress.

Vladimir placed me face-up on the pile of pillows, and gave me a cursory tucking in. The sheets were cool at first, but warmed quickly once he'd pulled them up over my chest. A yawn burst out of me, and my eyelids drooped.

He left my side. I was worried for a moment, but then I heard him draining the tub and filling a cup with water from the sink. He quietly padded across the wooden floor, as if he was afraid to disturb me, then sat on the side of the bed. He propped me up, and offered the water to me before he'd taken any for himself.

I took the glass with shaky hands and gulped down a few mouthfuls. When Vladimir took it back, he slowly sipped at it, then set it on the bedside table. He looked proud, but there was something else underneath. Concern?

He slid under the sheets beside me, slipping one arm beneath my pillow and laying the other over my chest. He grazed me with his claws again, and I squeaked.

"Vlad, your claws?" My voice was high as I tried to keep my stomach sucked in, avoiding the cold sting.

"Mmmh," he growled, "I forgot I was wearing them. And now I finally get to comfort you, I don't want to move."

"Do you want me to get your box?" I asked, my face growing hot. I knew how important the jewelry was to him.

"No. Stay here. In my arms," he grunted drowsily.

"If you don't take them off, you might stab me," I warned him, still shying away.

Vladimir growled in annoyance, but slipped off the claws. He dropped them to the floor, each one thumping solidly as he discarded the precious jewelry. He then pulled my body close to his, and sighed contentedly.

"Thank you for tonight," he muttered under his breath, warm against my skin. "You're truly delectable, did you know that?"

I chuckled weakly, barely awake. "You surprised me," I whispered into his silky white hair. "We're a better match than I thought. I'm so thankful you don't think I'm a freak or something."

His arms tightened around me possessively.

"Never."

I smiled, and drifted off into peaceful sleep while tangled in Vladimir's protecting embrace.