A promise fulfilled

[onceaviking]

Eric unlocks the door - and locks it behind them once they are inside.

The room looks much as it did the last time, Emcee was there. A framed picture of a moonlit ruin has been added to one of the walls and there is a stack of file folders on the desk as well as a couple of books.

The bed is made and the decanter on the small table seems to have been refilled.

Eric walks inside, the way you do when you own a place, leaving his flip flops by the door, and unzipping his track suit top.

He turns to look at Emcee, his gaze heavy and measuring.

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[i_am_your_host]

The moment Eric curls his fingers in his hair, he knows what's coming.

Still, the abruptness of his head snapping back drives a gasp and a small cry out of him.

He swallows hard, his breath hitching as he feels Eric's mouth skimming down his throat.

And he grasps his waist to brace himself, as if caught in some strange and dangerous dance.

[onceaviking]

Eric briefly pulls back and then he bites down, hard, his fingers letting go of Emcee's hair to fan out and cup his face.

He trusts him to stay in place. More or less anyway.

As he bites down, he also presses close, crowding him. His body is hard and tense. And hard. And as he drinks he rocks against him, slowly, in time with a relaxed heartbeat that likely doesn't mirror Emcee's at all.

[i_am_your_host]

He utters another cry, short and breathless, when Eric's fangs sink in. But he does stay in place and doesn't pull away.

In fact he leans into him, thrilled by the solidness of his body, his closeness, the hardness that's just beneath the soft fabric of his track pants.

His heartbeat is racing wildly, his breath quick but steady. His eyelids flutter but stay open, determined to watch what he can: Eric's firm jaw working, the tendons in his neck, the muscles in his shoulder.

[onceaviking]

And Eric drinks deeply, almost rubbing his face against Emcee's cheek and neck as he does so, running his thumb in small circles that pass across Emcee's lips.

His free hand ghosts down Emcee's side and ends up at his hip, enveloping the bone in a loose grip that belies how easily he could crush it.

[i_am_your_host]

He exhales a sighing moan, slightly strained, as the pain mixes with the pleasure of Eric's touch and the surreal sensuality of his lips and tongue as he drinks from him. His hands find their way to his shoulders, clinging to him, as he presses his hips flush against Eric's.

[onceaviking]

Eric pulls his mouth away, his face dripping with startlingly bright, red blood, and turns Emcee's face to the other side, leaving the other side of his neck exposed.

Before biting down, he kisses the skin.
There is nothing quite like the feel of blood, roaring with lust and pain and fear, just beneath a thin layer of hot, sweaty skin.

Then he bites down again. Moaning.

[i_am_your_host]

He can feel his own blood trickling down his neck and shoulder after Eric pulls away from the wound, and from under hooded eyelids he sees his bloodstained mouth, wet and dripping and horrifying.

He should be trying to get away. The instinct is still there, the fear, the urge to run.

Instead he lets Eric turn his head. He arches his neck under his mouth, anticipating his next bite. And he cries out again when he does, gasping and gritting his teeth against the new wave of pain. With a breathy whimper, his fingertips dig into his shoulders, desperate to keep close.

[onceaviking]

And Eric lets go of his face so he can envelop him and lift him up, his fangs still buried in Emcee's neck.

And then they are on the bed, and Eric's body is pinning him down, one of his hands back at Emcee's face. Touching his cheekbone and his eyelid. The corner of his mouth. His lips.

[i_am_your_host]

He suddenly finds himself on his back and with Eric on top of him, too delirious to figure out how that happened so quickly. But really, he couldn't care less. Because now Eric is touching his face with almost unnerving gentleness, a contrast to the ache of his teeth embedded in his skin, the press of his solid body against his.

His heartbeat is still strong, his breathing shallow but quick with both fear and arousal. He doesn't know what Eric will do next. And it turns him on and frightens him at the same time.

[onceaviking]

Eric laps at Emcee's neck, first the new wounds, then the ones he made first, tilting his hips a little to press between Emcee's legs.
Hard.

Then he bites the meaty part of his hand, below the thumb, and presses it to Emcee's lips.

He shouldn't. Emcee isn't weak enough to need it and blood is not something - the blood is sacred - to be used with indiscretion.

But fuck that. He will do it if it pleases him. And it pleases him.

and he won't care how Godric would look at him, because he left him and he won't look at him ever again

Licking his lips and the fingers he swipes across his own chin and cheeks. Watching Emcee.

[i_am_your_host]

It seems to him that Eric has finished feeding (for now), but the way he presses between his legs makes him gasp. Perhaps he's not finished completely yet.

However, it confuses him when Eric offers him his blood. Not just offers it to him, gives it to him. He would insist that he's all right if he had the wherewithal to speak. And also if Eric's hand weren't covering his lips.

The first drops trickle onto his tongue before he can refuse anyway, and he swallows. Before he knows what he's doing he's lapping at the thick flow of blood into his mouth.

And not only does his faint lightheadedness dissipate almost immediately, replaced by a warm buzz in which his senses become sharply more acute, the pressure between his legs becomes a lot more urgent.

[onceaviking]

Eric pulls his hand away again and licks his lips, his tongue swiping around his fangs.

Slowly and throughly.

Then he slowly trails a finger down Emcee's chest and belly, catching blood spattered before lifting his finger to his own mouth to clean it as well.

All the while watching Emcee's face.

[i_am_your_host]

The blood looks redder; his fangs look whiter.

The touch of his finger seems to reach right into him, leaving a cool trail that lingers almost tangibly on his hot, flushed skin. He blinks and gasps at how sensitive his skin has become with the new blood coursing through his veins.

And he watches with aroused fascination at the way Eric sucks his finger clean.

Fuck, that is hot.

He shifts underneath him, moving his hips.

[onceaviking]

Eric moves back a little and carefully unties the drawstring keeping his track suit pants in place.

Lifting one eyebrow. Just a fraction.

[i_am_your_host]

Looking up at Eric like this, he feels almost as vulnerable and impassioned as he was when he was a woman. Something about the vampire blood has tapped into his deepest desires, bringing it all to the surface and laying it bare -- everything is a turn-on: the feel of the sheets on his skin, Eric's cold blue eyes on him, the weight of his body pinning him down, the smell of blood, the taste of blood.

His lusty gaze is fixed on the crotch of those track suit pants.

[onceaviking]

Eric pushes his track suit pants down; just enough to reveal his hip bones.
Slowly.

[i_am_your_host]

His eyes grow a little wider. His cock grows a little harder.

...Eric has never teased him like this before.

He would say something but what are words?

[onceaviking]

"Are you just going to lie there?"

The eyebrow climbs a little higher.

[i_am_your_host]

He exhales sharply. His heart is pounding in his ears, his whole body thrumming with desire.

"I would do a thousand things to please you if you wanted me to, mein Herr," he utters in one quick breath, meeting his eyes.

[onceaviking]

Eric moves to lean back against the headboard, legs bend, his wrists resting on his knees.

"Well then," he says. "Get to it."

[i_am_your_host]

It's no pressure at all when Eric Northman gives you permission to please him. No pressure at all.

Fortunately, it's something the Emcee has already fantasized about.

He sits up for a moment, eyeing Eric, sitting regally as if on a throne. A dominating presence without any effort. An ego to stroke.

But when Emcee gets on his hands and knees and crawls across the bed toward him, he is no sycophant, the unwavering look in his eyes clear enough. He slinks up between Eric's legs, bold because Eric lets him be. And he dips his head to kiss the pit of Eric's throat, because it's not as if Emcee takes enough risks being with a vampire.

His lips move lower down his chest, broad and solid. He licks his nipple, teeth lightly scraping over it, as his fingertips sweep over the other. His breath is hot on his skin as he becomes ever more eager to take in every inch of him while he can.

[onceaviking]

Eric watches him, eyes dark and hungry, as he gets on all fours.
Bold.

He likes that.

He really likes that.

He spreads his legs a little, to make more room for Emcee. And for himself. Taking a breath solely to be able to breathe out as Emcee's teeth scrape across his nipple.

[i_am_your_host]

He's sure that vampires can take it just a little bit rough.

He does it again, harder, biting and licking the solid muscle around it as he drags his blunt fingernails down his side, his palm splaying flat on his stomach to feel his every reaction.

[onceaviking]

There's a small twitch in his stomach muscles, as Emcee bites down.
It's not that common an occurrence. Not with humans anyway, and vampire bites are different.
But he finds that he is not opposed to the sensation.

The pleased rumble might be an indication. And the way he shifts in his seat.

[i_am_your_host]

He breathes out a low purr against his skin, pleased that he's pleased.

And his lips and teeth move lower and lower down his torso. He traces every ridge of muscle with his tongue, fervently indulgent, taking full advantage of the Chieftain's son's permission.

His fingers dip below the waistband of his pants.