OOM of sorts - outside at night

[onceaviking]

This is not a moonlit stroll hand in hand.

Eric is obviously headed somewhere specific and he steers Emcee in the right direction with a firm hand on his neck.

The night is pleasant and starlit. The animals stay away though. Most animals give vampires a wide berth and the wildlife around Milliways is no exception.

Finally, they reach a small cluster of trees not too far from the lake and Eric stops, turning to look down at Emcee. He looks right at home here, in the darkness.

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[i_am_your_host]

The Emcee's makeup is gone; the last residue of dried blood is scrubbed (gently) from his tender neck. His long fringe of ink-black hair falls over one eye.

He watches the water course down Eric's body in silence, his large hands as they skim over his skin. And then when he's sure he's done washing, he steps even closer to him, facing him, head ducked slightly in supplication with his eyes raised to Eric's face.

His makeup may have washed away but his eyelashes are still thick and dark and curling, and his parted lips are pink from the heat.

He touches Eric's hip.

"Allow me?"

[onceaviking]

Eric looks down at him with half-lidded eyes and then he leans back against the wall, widening his stance a little.
Making room.

His upper lip twitches, as it does right before his fangs come down.

He asks, he doesn't put on a phony show. Eric likes that.
For all that this is a game, he prefers it to be rooted in reality.

[i_am_your_host]

He doesn't have to put on a show for Eric. He is what he is, but that doesn't mean he can't appeal to what Eric likes to sweeten the deal.

"Stop me whenever you wish."

Placing both hands on Eric's hips, he lowers himself to his knees. Then with slow, wet kisses, he follows the firm ridge of muscle just above his hip that leads down, down toward his cock. And he takes him into his mouth, inch by inch, tongue working at its underside, coaxing him to hardness.

[onceaviking]

Eric purrs and leans even further back against the wall.

And his fangs come down. Hard.

[i_am_your_host]

He can't decide which is the better sign that he's doing it right, the sound of Eric's rumbling purr or the sharp click of his fangs dropping.

Sliding his palms down Eric's thighs, he starts to bob his head, taking him in deeper and deeper with each swallow. He keeps it simple this time. No fancy tricks of his tongue (well, maybe one or two, occasionally), but mostly giving Eric something warm and soft to fuck.

He'll never get over how his cock feels in his mouth, so inhumanly cold, and when fully aroused, so supremely solid.

[onceaviking]

One of Eric's large hands settle at the back of Emcee's skull, cradling his head, as he begins to move.

Slowly.

Deeply.

Looking down at his own disappearing and reappearing cock.
Gasping a little.

[i_am_your_host]

His rhythm doesn't falter even at Eric's touch, which sends a warm thrill through him, but it's a sign for him to keep going. And he does so, moving in counterpoint to his hips, matching his slow and deliberate pace. Lips pressed tight around his shaft with each pull; tongue gliding underneath it with every swallow.

He keeps his eyes lowered. But he can tell Eric is watching.

And he's never really heard him gasp quite like that before. He hums with pleasure, his throat closing around his flesh.

[onceaviking]

It's good.

It makes him want to loose himself in the sensation.

It shouldn't . He's learned that. Humans don't keep, as he told Isabella. But there are too many of them here that he finds himself - not caring about. Of course not. But wanting to treat - gently.

After Dallas, everything seems more complicated. Feels more complicated.

But this. This is uncomplicated. Easy.

He increases his pace a little and then he tightens his fingers in Emcee's hair.
"Stop."

It's just courtesy. He can be courteous without it having some great significance.
Just like he can want to kiss Sookie without it meaning anything other than - that he wants to kiss an attractive woman and best William Compton.

He pulls back. Emcee will know why.
And there are two things in that, of course. One that he wants to spare him. Two, that he is close to coming.

[i_am_your_host]

When Eric says stop, Emcee stops. He did say that he did what he was told -- and so he lets his cock slip from his mouth, not even giving him a teasing parting flick of his tongue. He remains kneeling until Eric loosens his hold on him.

Perhaps it isn't such a good idea to want to remind him of his humanity, of the things he might miss. They're not important. Not as important as blood.

It's still in the Emcee's nature to give. And so after giving him this, it's his turn to give him some distance. Just to make things less complicated for the both of them.

He isn't stupid. But he might still be naïve about how close to death he sometimes comes.

[onceaviking]

It's an abrupt movement movement when he removes his fingers from Emcee's hair and he does physically move away as well.

His fangs are aching,

And he wants to come.

He growls as he turns his back to Emcee, leaning against the wall of the shower with one arm, pressing his forehead against it. Moving his hand aggressively, once, twice, and yes.

The blood spatters across the tiles as his hips snap forward. A dark spray that makes the wall look like it belongs in an abattoir, not in an upscale bathroom.

He leans against the wall, panting. Eyes closed.

[i_am_your_host]

His head snaps slightly to the side when Eric releases his hair, but he thinks nothing of it. But he's never seen him like this before, and he is too transfixed by his reaction to get to his feet right away.

And suddenly the water runs bright red on the shower stall floor.

It surprises him, but it doesn't shock him.

Slowly, without making any abrupt movements, he stands up and wipes the water from his face, sweeping his hair out of his eyes. A few moments pass.

"Are you all right?" he then asks quietly, though his tone is level.

[onceaviking]

Eric pushes away from the wall, nodding.
"Yes," he says. He sounds hoarse. A little edgy.

He runs a hand over his face and then he retracts his fangs.

"I don't normally - do this."
He looks at Emcee. To see his reaction perhaps.

[i_am_your_host]

He blinks drops of water off his eyelashes. He might be a little shaken on the inside, and Eric will hear it in his heartbeat, but he remains as calm as possible.

"I understand," he says, his voice still steady and quiet. "I offered. But I needn't ever do it again, if that's what you prefer."

He's not hurt. That much is clear. To comply and to adjust to others' wishes is also part of his nature (and his job). It's nothing personal.

[onceaviking]

Eric frowns a little. It's a forbidding sight.
"No," he says. "You misunderstand. I enjoyed it. It's -"

He rubs his hands over his face again, breaking eye contact.
"It's just very close to the ways things were and yet not at all,"he says, slowly, as if trying to explain it to himself. "And - some among us believe that our blood is sacred. That we shouldn't waste it. Personally, I think it's a load of bullshit but -"

But. Godric hadn't thought so.

[i_am_your_host]

"...Oh."

It's a little clearer to him now.

Even as he thinks back to when Eric came inside her. It should have fazed her, a lot, but it didn't. She made him come, and it was wonderful, and that was all that mattered.

"Well...whatever your reasons are, darling, what I think has no relevance. I'm not going to judge you."

Forbidding frown or not, he reaches over and slides his hand down his arm. Then he turns and steps out of the shower.

[onceaviking]

If anything, he seems a little surprised at the gesture.
It's very human, touching people with your hand.

Jay does it too, though often disguised as a shoulder bump. Sunshine had done it. Sookie.

It pulls at something in him. He is not quite sure if he likes that or not.

He dries off without looking anywhere in particular and goes back to his laptop, darting a quick look at his bed.

[i_am_your_host]

He very rarely touches Eric like that, it's true. Mostly because he figures he either wouldn't like it or would be indifferent to it. It doesn't occur to him now that it would have any other effect.

He stays in the bathroom for a little while longer, taking slower to dry off, and to give Eric space. And maybe himself.

How many times has he hidden in this bathroom again?

Eventually, he emerges into the main room, carrying the towel and idly rubbing the back of his head with one end of it. He sits on the edge of the bed.

"Should I leave?"

He really doesn't want to, but he can feel Eric is in a completely different space than he had been earlier.

[onceaviking]

"No. I said you could sleep here, so that stands," Eric says, looking up at him.
He hasn't gotten dressed, and the desk and the laptop shields just enough to reveal the rest of him as naked.

"I'll wake you - no, I'll let you sleep. Just - close the door after you when you leave."
He drank deeply. Emcee needs to rest.

Sometimes, the dawn can be very cold and quiet. And lonely.

[i_am_your_host]

He sits there silently for a moment, towel bunched in his lap, looking at Eric as if he's trying to read him.

Is he just being nice? Or his version of 'nice', in any case. Or generous? Is he just being practical? Or does he actually want him here? Or...?

He then blinks rapidly and glances down, folding the towel for lack of a better thing to do. Sometimes he thinks Eric is simple enough, and then he becomes complicated. (Not like he himself could ever be accused of the same thing.)

"Thank you. I will."

He sets the towel aside at the foot of the bed and lies down, turning onto his side, curled up slightly, pillow bunched under his head. The room's temperature is comfortable so he doesn't bother with the covers. Eric is not too far away with the glow of the laptop screen on his face.

And he thought he would never be in this spot again.

"I suppose I'll see you...whenever you come back."

[onceaviking]

Sometimes, Eric isn't sure why he does things.

He is a great believer in fast decisions and gut feelings. Not that it always work out to his advantage, but often enough it does. And it means he doesn't have to analyze everything.

Sometimes, it is easier to just do something.

He looks over at Emcee again at the question.
"Yes," he says. "I assume you will."

He returns his attention to the screen again, his face cool and still.
It's odd having someone here. Someone breathing.

Not unpleasant. Just - strange.

He tries to imagine having someone else here, but that feels just as strange. And so he packs it away mentally. Trying to relax into the sound of breathing. The heartbeat he hears from the bed.

[i_am_your_host]

He leaves it at that. And he closes his eyes.

It shouldn't be so easy to fall asleep with a vampire in the room.

Not unpleasant. Just strange.

[onceaviking]

When dawn approaches, grey and deadly and heavy as sorrow, Eric turns off his laptop and walks across the room to the bed.

He lies down on his back and looks up at the ceiling. Feeling his body grow heavy and slow.

Then he turns on his side, closing his eyes. Listening to the heartbeat next to him.

Feeling the world grow distant, except for that heartbeat and the feel of the bed. The pillow.

One of his hands is next to his own face, lightly curled, palm up.

He is quiet. Still. Cold.

[i_am_your_host]

It's past dawn and into late morning when the Emcee emerges out of a heavy, dreamless slumber. But when he opens his eyes, the room is almost completely dark. And there is a cold presence beside him, large and as still and solid as stone.

Yes, it's still unnerving. More so this time, waking up next to Eric. But the feeling passes quickly.

He lays there for a few moments as his eyes adjust to the dimness. When he can finally see Eric's face, cloaked in shadows as it is, he suddenly wants to brush a lock of his hair away from his brow. But he remembers what he told him about waking him up. It would rather be like trying to touch the trigger of a bear trap with your bare hand.

Eric looks sad more than anything now. Of course he would.

Carefully and as quiet as a mouse, the Emcee rolls off the bed. Thankfully Eric doesn't have much furniture, so he easily makes his way to the chair on which he'd left his clothes. Getting dressed in the dark is nothing new to him. Boots in hand (he puts on his coat to cover up his bloodstained shirt), he pads toward the door.

What a strange evening.

He can't help but look back at the large, pale form on the bed.

And then he's out the door, shutting and locking it behind him.

[onceaviking]

{ooc: perfection. Want me to post it?}