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.

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[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.

[i_am_your_host]

Eric's cold, strong arms around him are difficult to resist, so he sinks down completely onto his body, a hand pressed to his chest (seemingly always where his heart would have been beating). His head lolls against Eric's shoulder.

The pull of his mouth and tongue on his neck is almost hypnotic, lulling the pain away.

It's surprisingly intimate like this.

Comforting, even...


Emcee suddenly gasps, his eyelids fluttering open. He can't tell if he'd passed out or not, and that's what scares him.

"Eric..."

[onceaviking]

Just a little more. Just -

And then Eric moves his mouth away from Emcee's neck, briefly, to bite down on the meaty part of his own hand.mthen he presses it to Emcee's lips as he returns for one more, just one more sip.

And then he is biting his tongue and licking the wounds closed, his free arm still around Emcee.
Holding him.

[i_am_your_host]

Somehow he has enough sense left to lap at the blood flowing from Eric's hand. Then he swallows, and drinks in earnest, taking a few mouthfuls until he feels all right again.

Or at least as all right as he can tell. Which is questionable, when he's lying half-dazed in a vampire's arms.

Thing is, he really doesn't want to move.

But this is--

This is not--

Verdammt.


He closes his eyes for a moment and sighs, deeply and evenly. His breath is very warm against Eric's skin.

[onceaviking]

Moist.
That's what humans are. Moist and warm.

Eric makes a small, purry sound, and nuzzles the now healed skin on Emcee's neck.
Because he likes the feeling of warm, tender skin. Because he can feel the blood just beneath the surface.

Just because.

He licks at the rapidly drying blood spatters on Emcee's neck, leaving his hand where it is, fingers buried in Emcee's hair. Rubbing the strands between his fingers.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee feels very, very small.

A mouse between a lion's paws. Being nuzzled, licked, held.

Some subconscious part of him wants this. The part that dreams about Eric. The part that dreams about Eric being close enough to hold.

A silly, romantic notion that he tempers with distance. He doesn't want anything from Eric except sex. And his body. And the way he turns him on. His fangs.

Nothing more.

He opens his eyes just a crack. He moves his hand on Eric's chest down his torso. Because he likes the way his muscles feel through his shirt. Pretending (dreaming) that the skin beneath the fabric isn't so cold.

[onceaviking]

He likes this.
Being touched by warm hands. Hot breath on his skin. Damp skin and hair against his fingertips.

But he pretends not to, because he shouldn't.
It's a weakness.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a bit of smeared blood behind. Pretending not to notice the hand moving on his chest.

it's nice

He puts a cool but not cold finger beneath Emcee's chin and tips his head up.
Looking at him.

[i_am_your_host]

His breath hitches at the touch of Eric's cool finger under his chin, and he tilts his head back.

He knows Eric is just checking to see if his pupils are dilated, they've been through this before. And they are, a little. But he finds himself shyly glancing away, unable to meet his eyes for very long. And he grows even warmer.

[onceaviking]

He pretends not to notice.
Even if he can hear the rush of his blood, just beneath his skin. Hear his heartbeat.

He removes his hand.

And finds himself missing Godric so hard that it makes him nauseous.
Not Godric as he had been at the end, gentle and kind and confusing.
But Godric who had taught him that emotions were to be mastered. Who'd told him how. Godric who would not have seen the point in caring about a random human's silky emotions.

He removes his fingers but he can't move away as long as Emcee is in his lap, not without moving him.

He looks away.

There's a smudge of red on his cheek.

[i_am_your_host]

Distance. Distance.

As one practiced in keeping distant Emcee can tell when others want to put space between them and himself, and it's not like this hasn't happened before with Eric. Each time they get closer, they must absolutely keep farther apart.

He's surprised that Eric hasn't physically shoved him away yet.

So he shifts himself, pushing himself up--

And he pauses, a little woozy from being fed on, and the effects of Eric's blood, and just everything in general.

He then notices the red smear on Eric's cheek. It's Emcee's own blood. So he reaches up to wipe it away with the pad of his thumb.

[onceaviking]

He feels the touch.
His eyes close.
Gentle fingers. Like a woman's.

He hears himself make a small, soft sound.

He likes being touched. He can turn his head if he wants to, run his cool lips across warm skin, meeting a touch with a - with his mouth, if he wants to.

It doesn't have to mean anything.

It doesn't mean anything.

When everything ends, nothing matters.

[i_am_your_host]

He feels the strange pull between them. He used to think it was only one-sided, but he's not so sure anymore.

And he wonders why that pull is there, how it even got there. Because it shouldn't be there. This is how he protects himself. Distance.

It's too late anyway, isn't it? This will only hurt infinitely more if he never sees Eric again.

But this doesn't have to mean anything.

It doesn't. It doesn't. It never did. It was just sex and blood and that's all it ever was.

And Emcee has obviously convinced himself of this because right now he is taking Eric's face in both of his hands and kissing him on the mouth as hard and as deeply as he can.

Fuck.

They can ignore this bullshit tomorrow.