For Emcee

[onceaviking]

Eric's room is neat, cool, and quiet.
He turns the light on as he steps through the door and it bathes the room in a soft glow.

The bed is made. White Egyptian cotton, a blue bedspread . it reminds him of waves.

He turns and looks at Emcee. Quietly.

Comments

[onceaviking]

Eric - doesn't know what to do with that.

He doesn't need others defending him. The very thought is laughable.

And yet -

He is not used to people seeing him.
He doesn't know what to do with that.

So he ignores it.

He nods at Emcee's trousers. "I asked for some that looked like your old ones," he says.
He can't really tell if he's succeeded.
He's not good with clothes.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee won't talk more about anything that Eric decides not to respond to (nuanced as he is in the art of conversation), and instead smiles at him.

"Thank you, darling, they'll do nicely."

He sits cross-legged Indian style at the foot of the bed with the sandwich and paper bag in his lap.

"And then there was Athelstan," he casually remarks, before helping himself to a strip of beef and a piece of bread. "He just wanted to learn more about sex."

[onceaviking]

Eric looks over at him, one eyebrow raised.

"Don't tell me you've gone and corrupted the little monk?" he says.
He doesn't sound anywhere near disapproving.

[i_am_your_host]

He returns the raised eyebrow, and adds a smirk.

"I wasn't the first one who got him into bed, darling. You opened that door for him. I just pulled him all the way through."

Another bit of meat.

"He was very curious. And eager."

[onceaviking]

"I hardly did a thing," Eric protests. "But I am glad to hear he wound up someplace - educational."

Smirking in return.

[i_am_your_host]

"Hardly?" he chuckles, shaking his head. Eric hardly ever does anything hardly.

"And I couldn't let him go off into the world with all his newfound urges left unmet, now could I?"

[onceaviking]

"Hardly. I merely showed him what someone should have showed him when he was ten," Eric replies.

"But you are right. That would have been cruel. And a waste."

[i_am_your_host]

He would say that was very nice of him to do, but he knows how Eric would feel about that.

"A waste of a perfectly good virgin?"

[onceaviking]

"Mmrhh," Eric purrs and it is definitely a loaded purr.
A happy, loaded purr.

He likes virgins.
You can tell.

[i_am_your_host]

That purr goes straight through him.

He knows how Eric feels about virgins. He was one, as a woman, in a way. And he remembers how it felt, lying on Eric's bed, about to be fucked and not knowing what to expect.

With a sudden flush of warmth, he exhales a short sigh and licks a bit of grease off his thumb.

"I'm surprised you didn't take him for yourself," he murmurs.

[onceaviking]

"Your first shouldn't be incomparable," Eric says, as if he is merely making a general statement. About the weather.

Smugness, thy name is Viking.

And it is far easier that to try and articulate the other why. The why that had perhaps also made him talk with Athelstan in the first place. About how to survive a Viking raid.


"I'm sure you've set the bar plenty high as it is."
Is that a compliment? Why yes, yes it is,

[i_am_your_host]

Eric's smugness is certainly a force to contend with, but Emcee thinks that it suits him. And it's hot.

Which is why getting compliments from him is such a flustering thing, and Emcee is hardly one to get flustered.

He's caught off-guard with a mouthful of food, and he would choke on his meat if he had a gag reflex. But as it is, he only coughs a little before swallowing, as his blood rises in a blush.

And false modesty is more his style than outright arrogance anyway.

"Darling, you're too kind," he purrs with a coy little smile. "But should the monk seek out other partners, I wouldn't mind coming second to you."

[onceaviking]

Eric smiles, letting his eyes linger on Emcee's heated skin.

It's a delicious blush.

"He might com to you again. He knows better than to explore too mush at home."
He'd even gone as far as to caution him himself.

It'd be a shame to loose a source of pure blood to a Viking's axe.

[i_am_your_host]

Eric has the smile of a Hollywood matinee idol. The kind that would eat you. But still. Dreamy.

Emcee looks down, as demure as anything, picking at what's left of his sandwich, still feeling Eric's eyes on him. And liking it.

"He certainly wouldn't be safe to experiment at home as he is here," he agrees, munching on a piece of bread.

[onceaviking]

"I told him not to," Eric says, telling him more than he had really planned to.

"Our society was not - permissible. As such."

The smile slips away as he becomes lost in thought. Thinking about what things had used to be. How Athelstan had tasted. The lingering taste of Emcee's blood and the scent of him, right there.

He's growing hungry again.

[i_am_your_host]

Eric is merely protecting a valued food source. That is all.

"I imagine not," he murmurs, glancing up at him. "But that is the reality of things. He is smart. He'll survive."

He finishes up the last bits of his sandwich and licks his fingertips, his tongue flicking out quickly like a cat's. With another glance at Eric.

[onceaviking]

And Eric's eyes return to rest right below Emcee's earlobe.
Heavy as his hands.

"Better now?"
You can hear the hunger in his voice.
The smell of food does little enough for him, but watching a body that's just taken nourishment in - now that is another matter entirely.

[i_am_your_host]

Eric's heavy, hungry gaze is enough to make his heartbeat pick up and trip over itself.

"Much better, thank you," he says, his voice still a low, demure murmur.

His dark eyes travel up Eric's long, long legs stretched out across the bed; over his torso in a skin-tight tank top; his bare arms and shoulders, the bane of Emcee's waking and dreaming thoughts.

"Did you want dessert?"

[onceaviking]

The click of Eric's fangs dropping down is loud in the quiet room.

"Yes," he murmurs, all hungry intensity. "I do."

[i_am_your_host]

His fangs dropping genuinely startles him and he gasps, heart pounding in his ears.

Then slowly, he shifts onto his hands and knees. And he crawls across the bed toward him until he's by his side. His gaze is fixed on Eric's lips and the sharp, white points of his fangs.

[onceaviking]

And once he is there, Eric lifts him onto his lap and reaches up to grab hold of his hair.
His eyes fixed on that warm spot where jaw meets ear.

His lips part fully.

[i_am_your_host]

He straddles Eric's lap and braces himself with his hands on his shoulders. Submitting to the pull of the hand in his hair, he tips his head back, exposing his throat.

[onceaviking]

And Eric runs his now again cool lips up the side of his throat - and bites down.
Tightening his fingers in his hair, letting his other hand drift up to touch his face.

[i_am_your_host]

The pain of the bite stabs through him and he falters a little, sinking down against Eric's body, his arms trembling to keep himself upright as his fingers curl tighter over his shoulders. He rolls his eyes shut, his breath coming quickly and deeply, if a bit shakily, as a sighing whimper escapes his parted lips.

[onceaviking]

Eric puts his arms around him and pulls him close.
There no sense in him wasting energy on keeping himself upright.

And he is very warm. So very warm.

Eric closes his eyes and drinks, letting his senses be filled by the taste and the warmth and the sounds of blood.