I'm fairly certain of Fyodor's skill.
In Crime and Punishment, blood flows "as from an overturned glass" and "spills like champagne," evoking the Holy Eucharist of the Orthodox Church. The sacrament in Orthodoxy is not symbolic; to receive the wine is to partake in the blood of Christ, which initiates a union with Christ. Thus, when he drinks his victims' blood, or when his victims' blood smears on his hand, Raskolnikov is initiated into them and partakes in their nature. Their manners become his, and because he's imbibed them and taken them into his psyche, they can't be killed even though their blood has been shed.
But they're not Christ, and their blood cannot initiate Raskolnikov into the divine; in partaking in them, he's guilty of an evil that he can't escape anymore than they can die within him. The Eucharist is an Orthodox sacrament that can be repreated, so he seeks expiation by stumbling drunkenly into profound suffering by initiating himself over and over into others' natures, ignoring that they taste of wine. Desperate for redemption within his depravity, he conflates each death with the faultlessness of Christ's, rendering his guilt into a parody of righteousness, iteratively supplanting his anguish with absurdism.
Anyway, so, yeah, that's likely how Fyodor's skill works in Bungou Stray Dogs, too. From his touch flows the sacrament, but if he partakes, if the blood touches him or if he tastes it, then he's initiated into the nature of whoever's blood he sheds.
He rarely uses his ability, and when he does, there's a preciousness about how he shies from the blood spray, sometimes appearing disgusted or irate with its proximity. Thin and watery like wine, guilt sprays from his light touch and risks staining his pale skin and white clothes. His perception of himself is an absurd caricature of the lamb-like righteousness to which he clings, necessitating that he partake in his parodied Eucharist without allowing its artifice to stain his delusion. If he stops drinking the wine and sobers enough to recognize that's all it is, should he cease leeching from the natures of others, he'll be forced to confront his own.
(Hence, in Dead Apple, his ability did not turn on him. His ability is his nature, and his nature is his punishment for his criminal rejection of the self and the reality of what he's done. There are no borders between them because rather than partake in Christ's blood, he laps his own in a perversion of the sacrament, initiating himself into a union with his own psychosis that then precludes any escape, even death. His duality is that he exists in union only by separation.)
He may very well be the House of the Dead, and those who spill the sacrament in which he partakes may be merely the rats.
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