Fangtasia - for Emcee

[onceaviking]

The door leads to Eric's office.
It is small and cramped and crowded, filled with stacks of papers and a few crates stacked up against a wall.
The sounds of the club is filtering through. A deep, pounding bass is the most noticeable, drowning out most of the rest of the music.

He leans over the desk and produces a dark red piece of paper. A ticket. He scrawls something at the bottom and hands it to her.

"You can slip out through the back door here and then you'll just have to walk around the building to get to the entrance."

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[onceaviking]

There is blood spatters everywhere.

It doesn't matter.

He retracts his fangs, eyes still closed, and allows himself to sink down, down, down into the cool darkness behind his eyes.

Growing still. And cold.

[i_am_your_host]

She can feel the life ebb out of him. And she is left holding and being held by a cold, stiff body.

She shivers a little. But she doesn't mind.

Completely exhausted, she doesn't move, either. She falls asleep easily, and deeply.

[onceaviking]

The sun moves across the sky, dragging its shadow along inside the vampire's body.

He doesn't stir.

Naked and cold, with streaks of dark, dried blood on his face and his body.

[i_am_your_host]

Consciousness slowly begins to creep back into her bones.

She doesn't stir either. But she becomes aware of being pressed against a very cold body. Solid, smooth. Also very large.

Her eyelids flutter open, eyelashes brushing against Eric's skin.

[onceaviking]

He doesn't react.

Quiet, still, cold.

The room is dim and the scents hang heavy in the air.
Sex.
Blood.

[i_am_your_host]

She doesn't want to wake him outright or disturb him before he's...ready. she's not quite sure what happens biologically when vampires wake up, but her staying as still as possible as dawn breaks seems like a good idea to her. Especially since Eric's arm is still around her shoulders.

So she closes her eyes again. Completely still, except for her slow, deep breathing.

[onceaviking]

A while passes.

Then Eric stirs, turning to bury his nose in her hair.

Breathing.

Sylvie? No. No.

Rubbing his face against her, lightly.


Opening his eyes.

[i_am_your_host]

She feels him stirring, but still doesn't move until she's sure it's all right to do so.

The little nuzzling touches surprise her. In a pleasant way. She opens her eyes, her cheek still pressed to his cold shoulder, and strokes his side with her thumb.

[onceaviking]

He lifts his arms above his head (careful not to jostle her) and stretches.

Slowly.
Thoroughly.

Then he asks, "How are you feeling? "
Casually.

[i_am_your_host]

She hums a sigh and slides her hand over his stomach.

"Mmm. Hungry."

She smiles against his skin.

"You're not the only one who ever feels that way."

[onceaviking]

He chuckles a little, sleepily, and stretches again.

"You should eat," he agrees.

[i_am_your_host]

"I will," she says, resting her hand on his chest. "After I take a shower. Red is a nice color and all, but I've already got the dress."

[onceaviking]

"And it's a nice dress," he murmurs, closing his eyes again.

[i_am_your_host]

"I like it, too. I think it's spent more time on the floor than on me so far," she adds with a warm chuckle.

[onceaviking]

His lips twitch a little.

She's right.

Then he sits up, stretching again, before swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
She's not the only one in need of a shower.

[i_am_your_host]

She breathes a little whine and pouts when Eric moves away to get up. She lays there a while longer, stretched out and lounging like a cat, languidly blinking as she watches him, never wanting to miss an opportunity to ogle him.

[onceaviking]

It is fortunate that Eric would never miss out on an opportunity to be ogled then.

He walks over to his desk to switch his laptop on, running his hands through his hair on the way.

Naked. Very naked.

[i_am_your_host]

She rolls over onto her belly and folds her arms under her chin, lifting her feet and crossing them at the ankle. Ogling.

And she heaves a sigh.

"You do realize that you are being entirely unfair, don't you?" she mutters wryly. "With your physical perfection, I mean."

[onceaviking]

He stops what he is doing and looks over at her, with a tiny smirk.
"Shall I try to tone it down?" he asks.
Amused.


If it wasn't for the deathly pallor, the red rimmed eyes, and the streaks of dry, dark blood - well - everywhere, he'd look quite boyish.
Charming even.

[i_am_your_host]

Boyish and charming are two words that not everyone associates with Eric, but Emcee has seen nearly all of his façades and rather likes this look in particular, rare as it is.

"Absolutely not," she insists. "If I'm going to spend my precious time staring at something, it better damn well be perfect."

[onceaviking]

"Then I won't," he promises. Solemnly.

"And I need a shower."
He strides past the bed, heading for the bathroom.

It's a practiced walk.

[i_am_your_host]

It's the best promise ever. And one that's easy for him to keep.

When he walks past, she has to refrain from pouncing on him, and resigns herself to staring at his abs and his cock and his ass and his back (seriously, his back is a beautiful thing). It's only when he reaches the bathroom that she hurriedly climbs out of bed to join him.

[onceaviking]

He has turned the water on already when she enters, and is washing up. Wet and glistening.

It was needed.

He looks at her, across the already steam-filled room.
Intently.

[i_am_your_host]

With an eager smile, she steps into the shower stall beside Eric. The hot water feels glorious after a long night of-- activity. She tips her head back into the spray, letting the water stream over her face and down her throat, as she rubs away the dried-on blood.

Of course, she has her eyes on Eric. And she's enjoying the view.

[onceaviking]

He reaches a hand over and strokes down the side of her face face and her neck, down to cut first her shoulder, then her breast.

His hand is startlingly cool when contrasted with hot water.