#it's no sword under the chin but pinning your vampire partner to the ground or against your ribs works in a pinch

[lvllns]

banging pots and pans. it’s them!

—

“Good,” Mason says as he ducks. “Again.”

Sparrow blows out a breath. Shakes their hands out, and squares back up, fists raised in front of their face. Exhaling, they throw a punch. Mason catches their hand in his, a grin crawling across his face, and when they swing with their right hand, he hops back to avoid the blow. They blink and he’s right in front of them again, the flat of his left hand heading towards their shoulder.

Yelping, they throw their right arm up, catching the blow, and then they’re pushing forward. Into his space. He quirks a brow, fangs flashing as he smiles, and he laughs when they block his other punch. Sparrow snorts, and catches his right leg with their left, hooking their calves together, and pulling while pushing his chest.

He stumbles, but doesn’t go down. Instead, he twists free, backing away a few steps before rushing them. Warm hands grab their waist, the pads of his fingers scraping against their freckled skin, and they react without thinking. A knee to his gut, elbow to his throat, and when he drops a little, wheezing, they sling their arm around his neck, holding him tight against their ribs.