Eric's room

[onceaviking]

Eric switches on the light as he unlocks the door and steps inside.

The room is quiet. Neat.
The bed turned down, the desk empty.

He hadn't figured he'd be back.

He lets Emcee come inside and then he locks the door behind them.

Comments

[i_am_your_host]

It's a complete contrast to how Eric fucked him last night. Slow, excruciatingly so, and almost-- gently. He didn't think Eric was actually capable of a sustained lazy screw, but he's not above admitting he was wrong.

He even pushes back against Eric's hips as they rock hypnotically, lulling him into a haze of ecstasy. He purrs and moans with heady delight, arching against his indulgent touch and the press of his body. It's a much slower buildup for him than is usual between them, but he manages to hold back, to hover in that zone of perpetual pleasure.

[onceaviking]

It's different. A little like how he might take a woman. If she held his interest. And so his touch grows a little more gentle, as he strokes Emcee's sides. His face.

And there is the slow movement, almost all the way out - and back. Deep, deep into the heat of a living body, full of life and blood.

And there is the seeping blood, slowly filling his mouth over and over, coaxed along by nips and kisses and an inquisitive tongue.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee's slender build might heighten that illusion. Smooth skin, narrow waist, graceful movement, soft sighing sounds and whispers.

(Sometimes he thinks his feminine side is what keeps Eric from seriously hurting him.)

Each time Eric slides every solid inch of himself into him, he's pushed further and further into that dizzied state of toe-curling arousal. The blood flows from his wounds, which Eric so attentively and hungrily tends to. The nibbles make him jump but he doesn't mind; his probing tongue stings and tickles at the same time, the sensation seemingly reaching every nerve ending in his body; his kisses are always dreamy.

And for a moment, perhaps a short one or a long one, he can't tell anymore-- it feels as if he's dreaming.

"Eric, darling," he murmurs breathlessly, "I think-- I need your blood-- if I'm to go on..."

[onceaviking]

Nothing happens.

And then Eric moves his face (his bloodied face) from Emcee's neck to his face, murmuring, "And it has barely been an hour yet," with a smile that seems amused and perhaps even a little fond. Or would seem that way if not for the fangs and the blood.

He bites down on his tongue, a show of fangs and drawn back lips and a sound that is much too loud. And then he leans down and kisses him.

Still rolling his hips.

[i_am_your_host]

He blinks at the fanged, bloody smile, his eyes fixed on Eric's stained lips when he speaks. He has no answer, dazed as he is, even more so at the crunch of flesh that sounds even stranger next to his ear. But when their mouths meet, he drinks eagerly from his kiss, feeling the life seep back into his limbs.

"I would have made it to two hours if I weren't bleeding," he says in a wry purr against Eric's wet, sticky lips.

[onceaviking]

"So I would have had to cut it short anyway," Eric says, reaching down to tilt his hips, going deeper still.
Slowly. Slowly.

"In the far north, the sun doesn't rise at all in winter. It just dyes the horizon red before sinking back down again. There is no need to stop."

And every soft spoken word is lightly punctuated by his hips.

[i_am_your_host]

He lets his head rest fully on the mattress again, closing his eyes as Eric's blood surges through his veins, coloring the sound of his words, enhancing every thrust of his hips. He runs his tongue over his lips, tasting Eric, tasting himself.

"I would not have wanted you to stop."

The thought of an endless night is both enchanting and frightening at the same time.

[onceaviking]

"I would not have wanted to," Eric murmurs, returning his mouth to the wounds on Emcee's neck.

Sometimes he hadn't.

But that had been in the old days. Before they had to mindful of not killing anyone. Anyone anyone would care about anyway.

[i_am_your_host]

He purrs and stretches his neck, turning his face into the sheets, rocking back against him and matching his slow pace.

"But I don't think I would have made a very good vampire," he adds between sighs, with a twitch of the corners of his lips.

That would be the other option, aside from killing him.

[onceaviking]

Eric rumbles in reply.
"No. You're not ruthless enough."

[i_am_your_host]

"Alas," he sighs deeply, which is almost overtaken with a moan.

He uncurls his fingers from the bedsheets and reaches back to run them through Eric's hair.

[onceaviking]

That gets him a pleased hum. And a touch of Eric's lips just beneath his ear that almost (almost) could be a kiss.

[i_am_your_host]

It's the little things that may or may not be what they seem. It's all right. Emcee will take them all the same.

Bracing himself on his knees, he raises his hips, continuing to rock in counterpoint to Eric's movements. Slow and steady, a marathoner's pace.

His fingertips trace down along Eric's neck, stroking his jaw.

The pleasure builds and builds, ebbing and flowing like waves. Sometimes Emcee comes close, very close, his breathing short and shallow as his moans rise in pitch. He would press back against Eric's body, trembling at the edge of a release. But he still manages to hold off. He may not be able to last all night, but he will go on for as long as he can.

[onceaviking]

And at some point Eric licks his wounds closed and puts his hand on his neck instead. Holding him in a firm grip.
His thumb moving on his skin.

Moving out of reach, because he wants to look down at what he is doing.

[i_am_your_host]

There's that huge, strong hand on his neck again, and he shudders hard, breathless in submission.

He glances over his shoulder at Eric, watching him watch. It's a dizzying turn-on.

He stops moving his hips, letting him simply fuck him, enjoying being fucked. But he does clench tightly around him each time he pulls out, wanting to draw out every sensation.

[onceaviking]

And that gets him a small sound every time he does so. And a slightly tighter grip on his neck.
He likes it.

[i_am_your_host]

Panting hard, he exhales a shaky moan, his toes curling. He's been overpowered and dominated by various partners before, but Eric doesn't even have to try.

Eric's own pleasure is evident, and Emcee smiles dazedly at that. So he continues squeezing around him as he withdraws, relaxing when he thrusts in, taking him in as deep as possible.

[onceaviking]

It's what vampires do best. Overpoweri. Dominate.

And fuck lazily, apparently.

Time passes. At some point Eric even reaches around and runs a huge, cool (but not cold) hand down Emcee's belly and cock. Just a stroke or two,

[i_am_your_host]

Time passes, and Eric has neither killed him nor broken him, and after such an indefinite amount of time as this, Emcee is more than glad of it.

But it's when Eric decides to stroke him that he reconsiders continuing to hold back. Not only does it surprise him, driving a sharp gasp from his lips, but his mere touch pushes him right to the edge. And he's not sure he can come back from this one. Shaking almost uncontrollably, he whimpers at the nearly painful pressure that's been building up for so long. He struggles in Eric's hold, under his body, against his tireless hips.

[onceaviking]

When they struggle like that -

Eric moans. It's a moan of longing.
- when you kill someone at a moments like this, their blood taste the sweetest, and their body thrash so beautifully -

A moan of desire.

[i_am_your_host]

He knows what this does to him. Mostly he's felt it in the way Eric has to restrain himself. It's a dangerous temptation, but Emcee can't help the way he makes him feel, how much he turns him on.

"Oh, god, Eric--"

It's a choked, desperate gasp as he grasps and pulls at the sheets.

[onceaviking]

And he bites him.
It's a shallow bite. No great harm done in that.

And he needs to. Wants to.
Blood washes over his tongue.

[i_am_your_host]

Eric has his own desires and needs, and so the bite doesn't surprise him -- but it does make him cry out with a sudden spike in fear. The pain and adrenaline mix with his already heightened state of arousal and he can no longer withstand it. With breathless, keening cries, he comes hard. And for what feels like several minutes. He can't tell. Everything just feels too fucking good.

His blood flows fast. There's no pain in bleeding, but he feels the warmth and wetness trickle down his neck.

[onceaviking]

And Eric drinks.
But just a little.

And then he licks his wounds closed and he doesn't rip him apart and he doesn't tear into him and he lies him down gently on the mattress.

[i_am_your_host]

He's left limp and boneless, breathing hard and shallowly with his eyes shut tight. He lays perfectly still, not even to shift his position. Or even to move a finger. Exhaustion weighs him down, even as all his senses are still spiraling out of control.

But he's not dead and he isn't broken. And that's good.