For Emcee

[onceaviking]

Eric unlocks his door and lets Emcee through, before locking it again.

Then he sets about shedding the rest of his clothes - that is to say his jeans - and his boots.
They don't really look salvageable either.

The grime is everywhere.

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[i_am_your_host]

Emcee follows Eric upstairs and into his room. Once inside, he takes off his coat, and pauses to watch Eric peel off his jeans, which have stiffened with dried concrete.

"That looks dreadfully uncomfortable," he remarks, as he sheds his shirt and toes off his boots.

[onceaviking]

"It is," Eric admits, discarding the dirty jeans on the floor.

He doesn't like being dirty. Not like this anyway. And so he heads straight for the bathroom with no time for innuendo or other sorts of banter.

[i_am_your_host]

Eric has left the room before Emcee can get his own trousers off. He lays his clothes on one of the chairs as usual, and heads for the bathroom after Eric, as usual.

[onceaviking]

The water is already running, filling the room with steam and partly obscuring Eric.
He is busy shampooing his hair.

Cement really is a bitch to get out.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee takes a washcloth from the rack before stepping into the steamy shower.

"Would you like me to scrub your back, darling?"

Hard-to-reach and all.

[onceaviking]

Eric rumbles in reply and turns his back toward Emcee.

Pale, muscled, dirty.
Clearly in need of a washcloth.

[i_am_your_host]

This is the best activity ever.

Emcee grasps the washcloth in both hands and begins to scrub away the caked-on grime. It takes some effort to get the layer of grey off Eric's skin, and there's quite a bit of area to take care of. Every so now and then he pauses to add a generous handful of liquid soap to the cloth.

And as determined he is to get him clean, he also takes the time to appreciate the task. The broadness of Eric's back, his strong shoulders, the movement of his muscles as he washes his hair. There's also the dimples just above each of his perfect ass cheeks.

Emcee sweeps a bare hand over his skin to wash the soap away and to feel for any rough spots of dirt he may have missed. He's very thorough.

[onceaviking]

It leaves Eric free to focus on his hair.
And so he does.

Although he does take care to stand as to give Emcee the best opportunities to reach everything.

It's only fair.

And the warm hand is a nice touch.

(Hands feel different than the piping hot water. They are warmed by blood and thus infinitely more pleasing).

[i_am_your_host]

Grey silt pools at their feet and swirls down the drain.

With Eric's back done, including the sides of his (lean, rippling) torso, Emcee moves down to his legs. His very long, solid, muscular legs. So he eases himself down on his knees and starts scrubbing the backs of his thighs, giving them the same treatment as his back.

It strikes Emcee as kind of funny how small he really feels when he's kneeling at Eric's feet.

[onceaviking]

He looks so small down there, Eric notices when he briefly slants his gaze down.

Small and subservient. And yet not quite.
Too entertained for one.

He widens his stance a little.
To give him room.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee only gives the illusion of subservience. Eric didn't tell him to do this and most likely never would have in the first place. But Emcee offered because he wanted to do it, and in the process of enjoying it, he makes sure that Eric enjoys it as well.

And scrubbing down a hot vampire really is the best thing.

He sweeps both the washcloth and his bare hand around the trunks of his legs, first one and then the other. Eric's widened stance emboldens him just a little bit more, as he slides his hand up his inner thigh just high enough to tease him.

[onceaviking]

Eric runs a hand down his face to get the water out of his eyes.

"You've missed a spot," he tells Emcee.

Helpfully.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee smirks.

Oh, yes, very helpful.

"Did I, darling?"

He runs his hand up the inside of his thigh again, slower, moving higher, the back of his hand brushing against his flesh.

"Perhaps if you turned around, I could reach better."

[onceaviking]

Eric turns, slowly, hot water cascading down his body.

He looks much cleaner now.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee tips his head back to look all the way up at him.

This has always been one of his favorite views.

Putting the cloth aside, he fills his cupped palm with body wash. And he starts at Eric's stomach, flat and hard with muscle, just in case he missed anything. The soap suds flow down over his abdomen and along the creases of his hips. Emcee's hands follow, warm and slick and slow, fingers curling through his pubic hair, sliding around his cock, caressing his balls.

He's being very, very thorough, and not missing any spots.

He's also rather aroused.

[onceaviking]

And Eric watches him, his eyes dark, taking in every movement of his slender fingers, every beat of his heart, visible through the thin, damp skin stretched across his collarbones. Visible in every vein, broadcasting his arousal like a neon sign.

His fangs ache.

His lips part.
Just a little.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee knows Eric wants him like this, with his blood running fast and hot. That in and of itself is arousing, to be desired in such a primal way. So he wouldn't want to delay that pleasure for him.

He leans forward and sweeps his tongue up the length of Eric's cock, followed by a trail of soft, indulgent, open-mouthed kisses. He tastes faintly like the soap he'd just used on him.

But that is all he does this time, and he gets to his feet, bracing himself on Eric's hips for balance. Face-to-face with the broad expanse of his chest, he presses a light kiss to the spot just above his left nipple.

"I think you're clean, darling," he murmurs, raising his eyes to him.

[onceaviking]

Eric slides his fingers into Emcee's wet hair.

"How fortunate," he murmurs.
"And just in time for dinner too."

He reaches behind him to turn the water off and in the sudden silence, he lets his fangs down.

Click.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee's heartbeat races wildly as Eric slips his fingers into his hair, and his own fingers tighten slightly on his hips, just to hold on. A whimpering gasp escapes him when he sees his fangs drop. Long, white, dangerously sharp. His entire body vibrates with eager arousal and as always, a hint of fear.

[onceaviking]

"On the bed," Eric reminds him as he turns him (with a firm grip on his neck) and leads him back into the main room, grabbing a towel on the way.

His voice sounds eager.

He is hungry.

And he needs something to reestablish the natural order of things. To take his mind of the shit that can't be fixed.

[i_am_your_host]

Eric's grip on his neck turns his knees to jelly, and for a moment there he almost loses his footing as he turns him and leads him out of the bathroom.

But he's still turned on and eager to please. Skin still damp, he shivers a little as he obediently sits on the bed.

[onceaviking]

Eric dries off, perfunctorily. And then he gives Emcee a light push. Encouraging him to lie down as Eric climbs onto the bed.

Making a small, purry sound.

[i_am_your_host]

He blinks up at him with large, dark eyes, and then shifts back to lie down. With Eric approaching like that, Emcee feels small, like prey. But the part of him that wants Eric to take him always seems to win out over the part that wants to flee.

[onceaviking]

Eric slides on top of him. Cold and damp and hard. Weighing him down.

His fingers return to Emcee's hair and half caresses him before he tightens his hold and pulls, laying the side of Emcee's neck bare and open.

Then he bites him.

[i_am_your_host]

As Eric settles on top of him, Emcee knows what happens next. Yet even if he braces himself for it, he still finds the second that Eric snaps his head back to be the most thrilling.

He cries out when Eric's fangs sink into him. His fingers curl into the bedsheets, his body arching up in throes of pain and pleasure.