For Athelstan

[onceaviking]

Eric has left the door ajar.

He is inside, seated in one of the low chairs, his bare feet resting on the wolf pelt in front of it.
Watching the door.

There's a carafe and one glass on the table.
The bed is turned down.

The light is dim.

Comments

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan knows where the room is, and doesn't make him wait long before he slips in quietly, closing the door behind him. He glances at the carafe, amused.

"You got more wine."

[onceaviking]

"I have asked to have it refilled," Eric replies.
"It sometimes makes it easier for people."

[athelstanthescribe]

"It's nice to have", he agrees, coming over to the other chair and reaching for the carafe to fill the glass, drinking with his eyes fixed on Eric. "Relaxing."

[onceaviking]

Eric hums agreement, as he sits there, watching him drink.
Intently.

[athelstanthescribe]

He drains the glass, pours another and drinks that, then stands again to make his way to Eric, baring his neck.

"Your turn."

[onceaviking]

Eric pulls him down in his lap, his hands cold and firm.
He runs his lips along Athelstan's neck, eyes closed.
Feeling the blood rush beneath his skin.

[athelstanthescribe]

He shivers at the touch and doesn't pull away, waiting for the bite he knows is coming.

[onceaviking]

And Eric lets his fangs drop with a hiss, before biting down.
Hard.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan tips his head fully to the side, giving Eric all the room he can, and lets the pleasure of the drinking wash over him.

[onceaviking]

And Eric reaches up to support his head with one large hand, his thumb stroking his skin.
Drinking slowly and deeply.

[athelstanthescribe]

Apparently he's been spending too much time with Emcee, as well as being slightly drunk and sensitised, because the sound he makes at that is very much like a purr.

[onceaviking]

Eric works the broken skin with his lips and tongue.

Maybe in answer to that purr.

[athelstanthescribe]

The purr changes into a soft groan, and he attempts to press more firmly against Eric's mouth.

[onceaviking]

Eric runs his fingers into his hair and grabs hold, holding him in place.
Effortlessly.

[athelstanthescribe]

That's a turn-on by itself, because as has been established, he has a domination kink he's not consciously aware of.

He murmurs acquiescence, settling more comfortably into Eric's lap.

[onceaviking]

Eric growls and returns his attention to the blood trickling down Athelstan's skin.
His fingers stay in his hair and his free hand curl lightly around his upper arm.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan's hands settle on Eric's thighs, fingers flexing and then curling around the curve of them.

He's not going to stop Eric feeding until he starts to feel dizzy, this time.

[onceaviking]

And Eric drinks deeply, stroking Athelstan's upper arm. His face.

[athelstanthescribe]

He turns his face into Eric's hand.

Eventually, reluctantly, as he feels his head begin to spin, he says simply, "Eric."

[onceaviking]

Eric makes a small, whiny sound, tightening his hold.
But he stops.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan doesn't protest against the tighter hold, he can live with that.

Gently, he says, "Until you come back."

[onceaviking]

Eric bites down on his tongue and laps at Athelstan's skin, closing the wounds.
Still holding him.

Then he lets go.

There is no reason to tell him what he thinks will come to pass. It is not something he can do anything about anyway.

[athelstanthescribe]

Athelstan doesn't make a move to get up yet, unless Eric indicates he should. He'll just sit and let his strength build back up for a little while.

He does speak, after a minute. "Tomorrow night, then."

[onceaviking]

"Yes."

Quietly.

His resolve is firm, but he is not confident.

[athelstanthescribe]

"Will you have any more time to prepare, when you go back?"