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[onceaviking]

The door to Eric's room is ajar. Invitingly.

It is a clean room with little furniture but it has changed a little. There is less of the Viking about it now, than there has been before. A low table and two chairs, with carved dragons on the back- and armrests. A wolf pelt on the floor.

There is a desk in the corner with a closed laptop. A couple of strategically placed lamps.

And there's the bed Oh, the bed. It is massive. Huge. Right in the center of the room. Covered with red sheets and thin blankets.

Eric's in one of the chairs. He's taken off his leather jacket and his wife beater, but he's kept the jeans on. His feet are bare. Long and pale.

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[i_am_your_host]

He lets out a exultant shout, a delirious noise somewhere between a growl and a laugh as Eric plunges into him, cold and rock hard, filling him completely. His own cock is trapped between their bodies, and as he begins to undulate his hips, it chafes against his cool skin.

It's a contrast to the hot stickiness at his neck. The pain has mingled with the pleasure and he can no longer tell which is which.

A litany of blasphemies uttered in rough, rasping German escapes his lips.

[onceaviking]

Eric moves his mouth to the Emcee's collarbone, nibbling it with his regular teeth.

He rather suspects he won't be able to drink his fill. Not from a skinny guy like this.

His mouth is dripping wet now, dark with blood. It leaves a trail when he moves it along the Emcee's skin and he retraces that path with his tongue, making sure he gets every last drop.

[i_am_your_host]

The ecstasy builds to dizzying heights and he isn't certain how much more he can take. But he clings to consciousness as stubbornly as he can, the edges of his mind fuzzy, his head swimming, his body drained.

With one last surge, he comes hard -- it's like a stab of white hot pain before his body gives in--

--and he passes out.

The fingers that had been digging into Eric's back go slack, and the hand gripping his hair falls limp. His head lolls to the side, his pulse faint.

[onceaviking]

Eric stops moving - and then he sighs.
Great..

Of course, he's not dead, so this is not a crisis. Merely an inconvenience. And a meal interrupted.

He pulls out and moves away, letting the Emcee's legs drop down on the mattress without ceremony.

Then he bites his own tongue and licks the wounds that are still weeping, letting them close.

He debates whether he ought to feed him a little blood or not. It seems to be less potent here, so it shouldn't cause any trouble, but he still doesn't feel quite comfortable doing so.

He pats the Emcee's cheek. None too gently.

[i_am_your_host]

It isn't more than a minute before he comes to. His eyelids flutter open, and he blinks away the murky haze, grunting and turning his head away from the light smacks against his cheek.

"Was ist-"

And he falls back into himself, almost as if he'd had an out-of-body experience.

Realizing what had happened, he sits up -- perhaps a little too quickly, because the room immediately begins to spin. He clutches his head, raking his fingers through his hair.

"Well. That was delightful." He manages a faltering smirk.

[onceaviking]

"As I said, it's not for everyone," Eric says as he gets up and pulls up his pants.

"If you wasn't, I can offer you a little of my blood. It will help you recuperate faster."

He says it offhandedly , as if offering the use of an umbrella or a lift, looking down as he zips his jeans.

He doesn't believe in underwear and vampire healing or no, he would rather not catch himself with the zipper.

"You did seem - enthusiastic?"

Making sure that nobody is backing of the ole consenting adults deal.

[i_am_your_host]

The Emcee's eyes dart toward him. His blood?

He then exhales a breathy little chuckle and waves a hand. "Oh, that's not necessary, darling, I'm quite all right, thank you," he says lightly enough, masking his inner discomposure -- putting on an act, as he has done professionally for most nights.

Turning to swing his legs off the bed, he gathers up his trousers and buttons up. Facing away from Eric, so he can't see the way his expression tightens, wincing at how much his body aches right now.

But somehow...it's still a good pain. It makes him feel alive in the sense that he's just survived something.

"And of course I was enthusiastic," he adds, turning around, his grin brighter, lips stained crimson. "I still am, my dear. You're quite a lot to handle, but I suppose you know that already."

[onceaviking]

"I beg to differ," Eric replies. "Your pulse is a little faint. You should take care to eat something at least."
It's hard to keep secrets from someone who can hear your heartbeat and the blood coursing through your veins.

He lets himself drop down in one of the chairs. Looking at the Emcee.

"And I am glad you enjoyed yourself. This was after all, a mutual agreement. I would be - disappointed, if you had somehow forgotten this. "

Very disappointed. Violently disappointed.

" And if you feel unwell, the offer of blood stands. It can be a little intoxicating. Or a lot. But it doesn't seem to have other side effects here. "

He points to his neck." The bites are visible. I can make them go away if you wish? "

[i_am_your_host]

It's also a little disconcerting to know someone else is listening in on your heartbeat.

"I'll be fine, darling, I'm only a little lightheaded," he insists with a flourish of his fingers, a dreamy look on his face as he ambles toward where Eric sits. His naturally loose-limbed gait is made even more lax by the slight wooziness.

Still bold, he wipes away a smudge of blood (his own blood) from Eric's chin with the pad of his thumb, and sweeps his hand under his firm jaw. He can't help admiring the viking's features.

"And I assure you, man from the North, everything was mutual."

It has never been his policy to seduce the unwilling, or agree to a proposition and not follow through, especially if he initiates it. Personal, and professional.

"And you are very, very kind, but if I want to be intoxicated, I think I'll stick with gin," he says with his usual smirk.

At Eric's last remark, he runs his hand down his own throat, wincing a little at the soreness, and seeing flecks of half-dried blood come away on his fingertips.

"Hm. Will they fade? If so, I could leave them to add to my collection of battle scars. Although I probably should wash up. What would the neighbors think?"

[onceaviking]

"They'll fade, same as all other cuts. But yes, washing might be a good idea," Eric says, looking up at him.

And then he is standing, having gone from seated to on his feet and very close to the Emcee faster than the human eye can see.

"Let me show you. It's a modern shower. They are amazing. His enthusiasm is quite genuine as he steers the other man out into the bathroom with a firm grip on his shoulder.

He likes the shower.

It's big and shiny with clever nozzles and whatnot placed strategically.

Eric peels off his own clothes and throws them in a heap on the floor. He can always take a shower.

[i_am_your_host]

...Well, this is an interesting turn of events.

He's not as excited by the wonders of futuristic bathroom fixtures as he is amused by Eric's enthusiasm for them. It's quite endearing. But the bathroom is glorious, compared to the communal facilities in his tiny Berlin flat.

And besides, he is rather pleased to see Eric naked.

"How delightful of you to join me, darling," he nearly giggles, still giddy, as he circles 'round to the taller, broader man's front and lays his hands on his chest. Standing on tiptoe, his nose reaches Eric's chin.

"I'm sure we can take care of each other's hard-to-reach spots."

And with that, he pecks him on the chin and drops his trousers.

[onceaviking]

Eric just looks at him. Then he shakes his head a little.

"You are a strange creature, "he says, but it is not a rebuke exactly. He is so effeminate, that the normal rules doesn't apply. Even though Eric can see that he is not a eunuch.

Still acts like one.

He turns on the water and steps under the hot spray with a content sigh.

Closing his eyes and tipping his face into the steam.

[i_am_your_host]

"I know," he chirps with a dimpled smirk.

The Emcee's sexuality is fluid. Most of the time he's neither here nor there, shifting between this and that without conscious effort, but when in the company of the very masculine or the very feminine, he adapts accordingly to his desires. And to the desires of his company. To be frank, Eric's hyper-masculinity makes him feel like a slip of a girl.

And now, he takes a moment to appreciate Eric in the shower.

Bless whoever built it.

And then he joins him, standing close to him at his back, as the multiple shower nozzles massage all the aches away.

"Mmm, absolutely divine..."

[onceaviking]

Eric looks at the Emcee over his shoulder. One eyebrow raised.

Then he bows his head and runs his fingers through his hair. Enjoying the sensation. And perhaps the admiration.

"My progeny was a whore when she was alive," he says. Offhandedly .
"Do you know why I picked her?"

[i_am_your_host]

Through the thick steam he watches the water run in rivulets down Eric's sculpted back. He casually lays a hand on the man's shoulder as he tips his head a little, letting a more direct stream of water slick back his ink-black hair.

Progeny.

He's silent for a moment, considering what he means by it, eventually understanding.

"Do tell," he then says, intrigued.

Also, some of his best friends are whores.

[onceaviking]

"I didn't," Eric says. "She picked me. But I accepted her because she was smart and she had courage. Good whores are like that. They know people. If they don't, they starve or get knifed."

He runs a hand down his abdomen, washing his belly and cock casually.



(ooc: bedtime for me)

[i_am_your_host]

"Indeed. You were good to see that in her. I know quite a few with those qualities as well."

What's left of the Emcee's makeup sloughs off in the water. The thick black eyeliner, the smoky kohl, the deep red on his lips -- lipstick and blood.

And what's left of the Emcee is still rather elfin, ageless, impish. But his mask, at least his physical one, is gone.

[onceaviking]

Eric takes hold of his chin with cool, hard fingers and tips the Emcee's face up.

"You look less like a woman now," he remarks and lets go, running a wet hand over his own face.

He is still pale, standing there. A little less perhaps, due to the blood. And he is quiet. No small sounds of throat and lungs and stomach.

[i_am_your_host]

A thrill courses through him at the mere touch.

Blinking away droplets of water, he looks up at Eric, pressing a palm to his broad chest and leaning in close.

"And do you think that is a good thing or a bad thing?"

A beat, and a small, wry smile curls his lip.

"Or do you not care either way?"

[onceaviking]

"I like fucking women," Eric rumbles. "Sadly, they are less adventurous here than the men. Or more sensible perhaps."
He chuckles.

"Still, I don't mind much when I am hungry."
And he is always hungry.

He looks down at the Emcee. Considering his bare face. "It matters not to me, painted or not. But with the lipstick you do remind me of part of the clientele at my bar. And they can be ever so tedious."

[i_am_your_host]

"Adventurousness and good sense rarely go hand-in-hand," he says with a chuckle of his own.

As he idly sweeps his palms down Eric's slick torso as if in supplication, he realizes that nobody here has seen him without his stage makeup on. Except for Eric. And he wonders if that should mean something. And then he decides against wondering anything at all right now.

"I do hope you did not find me tedious this evening, darling. I know that I am but a morsel to you, but not everyone comes from Viking stock."

[onceaviking]

"Not at all," Eric replies. "When you simper and slink about as a girl, it's a weapon you use."

He can appreciate that.

"They are pathetic. Sorry excuses for human beings. They debase themselves and they don't even know it. You in the other hand - you have your eyes open. You know what you are doing."

A small, satisfied smirk.

"Although I think that I ended up being more of a surprise than you had thought. Didn't I, Mausi?"

[i_am_your_host]

A weapon?

Or a defense?

He smiles, slow and languid.

"Quite insightful, darling."

He won't say if Eric is wrong or right. The gray area in his own psyche reaches far and wide, and he would not outright admit to anything lest it become an absolute truth.

Still, he likes it when Eric calls him Mausi.

"And live and learn, is what I say. I enjoy testing my limits."

Such as debasing one's self. It isn't as if he hasn't done that before. All part of the living and the learning.

"Besides," he continues, one of his hands slipping lower down Eric's body, "I welcome surprises. They keep me on my toes." Raising himself onto the balls of his feet, he kisses him under his chin and coyly draws away, fingers brushing against his cock.

[onceaviking]

"I can be," Eric says, self assuredly. "Very insightful."

He allows the kiss and the caress, without returning either. Instead he says, " So, how is your Berlin?"

He remembers going there later. With Godric. Looking for the wolves. During the War. The environment hadn't seemed hospitable to men in lipstick.

[i_am_your_host]

He doesn't expect his flirtatious gestures to be reciprocated -- he simply can't help himself when the man is standing naked right there in front of him. So instead he turns around to face one of the shower nozzles, closing his eyes in the spray and sweeping the long strands of hair out of his face.

"Berlin is beautiful, darling. The food, the liquor, the music, the entertainment. The women...the men. I truly would not live anywhere else."

There are fading bruises on his back. One cluster of mottled brown look like fingerprints.