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]

"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.

[i_am_your_host]

Her eyelashes flutter at the touch, and she shivers with delight, exhaling a small sigh as she presses her breast against his cupped palm.

In turn, she reaches up to drag her fingers down Eric's chest, following the lines of his chiseled torso. The water flows over him like a waterfall down a wall of muscle.

[onceaviking]

His eyelids drift shut.

He seems to enjoy the attention. Even smiling a little.

He can indulge a little. They both know what this is. It'll be okay,

[i_am_your_host]

And she enjoys giving him the attention.

She steps closer and presses her soft, warm curves up against his body, her hands resting on his sides. She kisses the pit of his throat, nuzzling him just under his Adam's apple.

[onceaviking]

He shudders.

[i_am_your_host]

She plants delicate kisses along his collarbone, slowly rubbing her breasts against his chest. Her fingers drift down his arms.

"Touch me," she pleads through a warm sigh that ghosts over his skin.

[onceaviking]

And he does, running careful, cool fingertips across her hot skin.
From her shoulder blades, down the frail path of her spine, to the curve of her buttocks

[i_am_your_host]

She exhales a hot, shaky sigh, turning her head to press her cheek to his chest, arching her body as his fingers trail down her back.

[onceaviking]

His huge hands cups her buttocks and then he lifts her up, the hot water cascading down the both of them.
Turning to rest her against the wall.

Kissing her.

[i_am_your_host]

She gasps with surprise but wraps both her arms and legs around him. With the tiled wall at her back, and his body at her front, she's pressed between two cool, hard surfaces.

And she returns the kiss, deepening it passionately.

[onceaviking]

He can indulge.
Just a little.

The waitress is unlikely to invite him to her bed any time soon. He deserves this.

And she tastes like life, warm and eager like this.

He moans into her mouth and tightens his hold on her.

[i_am_your_host]

She slides her fingers through his wet hair, down his neck, over his shoulders and back again. Her tongue sweeps against his, lips caressing and clinging.

She will indulge as long as he allows her to. Or as long as he allows himself to as well.

[onceaviking]

He kisses her neck, tonguing the skin.

He shouldn't bite her. Not again.

Instead, he rubs against her. Hard.