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 breath is knocked out of him when he suddenly finds himself on his back, pinned down and held there. He gasps at the roughness, and for a second he struggles, the urge to stop Eric right there on his tongue. But he doesn't say anything. Yet. He only grits his teeth against the pain, allowing himself to be overwhelmed. And devoured.

Yet it is that sensation of Eric's mouth on his neck that brings him back to himself. Sucking the life out of him. Fucking him senseless. And he winds his way through the vaguely hallucinatory haze, where he can feel every drop of blood leaving him, every muscle in Eric's body ripple with each thrust, to that point where he can just throw his head back and cry out.

No, he will not just lie there. He will hold on until someone comes first.

[onceaviking]

It doesn't take long. Not long at all.

Eric tears his mouth away from Emcee's neck and growls, shuddering into his release. Feeling the liquid heat spreading, leaving him achy and empty.

His mouth returns to Emcee's skin, as he bites down on his own lip, licking the wounds closed. Kissing them. Tasting his own blood. Emcee's.

[i_am_your_host]

Eric comes and he still holds on, even if he is on the brink himself, feeling the sudden rush of heat fill him, spill over him. The primal growl reverberates right through him, chilling him and exciting him at the same time. Everything is extraordinarily beautiful and painful in this moment, and he is overwhelmed by his own orgasm that washes over him like a tidal wave, immersing him in a swirling, glowing buzz.

This vampire blood is powerful stuff.

He feels Eric's tongue and lips on his skin. And he exhales a deep sigh, his toes curling. He runs his fingers through Eric's hair once before he lets his arm flop bonelessly onto the bed.

[onceaviking]

Eric keeps licking his skin, despite the fact that the wounds are most certainly closed now. Cleaning every tiny drop of blood, close-eyed, his lips almost warm now.

He pulls out and away, and then he stretches out next to Emcee. Almost close enough to touch.

There's blood everywhere. Spatters and drops and smeared trails.

[i_am_your_host]

He imagines himself as a human-sized piece of candy being licked by a lion wearing a leather jacket and he chuckles dazedly to himself, passing a hand over his face and immediately wondering what the fuck was that mental image all about.

Uttering a disappointed groan when Eric pulls out, leaving him strangely empty and aching (quite similar to that sensation he felt as a woman), he's aware of all the blood. The stickiness between his thighs, the smell of iron. He figures a shower is in his immediate future but not right now. Because there's a vampire lying beside him and he's hot.

Eyes closed, he sighs and murmurs,

"I hope I paid off my debt to your satisfaction."

[onceaviking]

There is a long, long silence.

Then Eric says, "You have." He sounds quiet, almost pensive.
He doesn't like feeling like this. And yet, he keeps returning to this feeling, this place, as if he can't quite walk away from it yet.

Then the mattress dips as he turns on his side, looking him over.

"Are you okay?" All wounds should have healed, but in retrospect, he might have been a bit - forceful.

[i_am_your_host]

"Mm?"

He opens his eyes a crack and turns his head to find Eric facing him, and he almost has to squint to look at him. His eyes are too blue. He turns away and rubs his face in his hands.

"I would bitch at you but you fucked the bitch right out of me."

[onceaviking]

"Is that even possible?"

He sounds vaguely amused. And then he reaches over and turns Emcee's head to look at his eyes.

[i_am_your_host]

He snorts. "Probably not."

When Eric turns his face toward him, he cracks his eyelids open again. Blinking blearily, his pupils are obviously dilated.

Eric's eyes are still intensely blue, but at least he can look at him now. He's entranced by them. And he can hardly look away. But he forces himself, and unfortunately the only other place to look at is his lips, and that's not a very good idea.

"I almost wanted you to stop," he murmurs. Still looking at his lips.

[onceaviking]

"Almost?"

His lips are smooth, smoother than human lips. And right now, they are still tinted very faintly pink.

His teeth are white and even and his fangs rest against his lower lip, heavy and almost obscene.

There's a tiny drop of blood smeared into the shape of a irregular teardrop just below the left corner of his mouth.

[i_am_your_host]

"Almost."

He stares at Eric's lips, the fangs, the drop of blood. He envisions kissing it off his skin, tasting his lips, feeling their warmth-but-not-warmth, and Eric kissing him back, and god this vampire blood is really not good for overactive imaginations but he still wants him so badly it's beyond illogical and insane.

He hates not being in control of his emotions.

"I didn't, though. Obviously."

He huffs a short chuckle and turns his face away, closing his eyes with self-restraint.

[onceaviking]

Eric watches him turn away. Silently.

A little while passes.

Then he says, "I let you drink a little deeper than I should have. It'll pass." Reaching over to rest his hand ever so lightly on Emcee's neck. Feeling his heartbeat.

"Next time, I'll be more careful."

He doesn't hear it himself. Pam would have called him out on it, but he really doesn't hear it, how there is now a next time. Just like that.

Caressing his jawline with his thumb. Slowly.

"My blood is very powerful. It's effects here are mild in comparison to what might happen at home."

His voice is pitched low. Intimate. Confiding.

[i_am_your_host]

Not helping. Oh god, not helping.

He swallows hard at Eric's touch. Eric will feel his pulse is strong and fast, his skin still flushed, just because he's touching him. He doesn't need to have his blood in him to feel this way, but it sure isn't helping.

Taking a short, sharp breath, he shifts his position. Not exactly away from Eric. Just over onto his stomach, with his arms folded under his chin. He doesn't look at him.

"It's not just the blood, darling," he murmurs. "In hindsight, it's a good thing I did drink as much as I did, because if I didn't, I think you might have actually hurt me again."

He turns his head, looking at him a bit askance, his face partially hidden by his arm.

"Which is why I wanted to bitch at you. But I'm all right."

[onceaviking]

"Yes," Eric says, his eyes drifting away from Emcee's face. "I did get a bit - carried away. Sometimes, I forget how fragile you are. Humans."

"But you're not hurt. I'd be able to smell it."

Tripping perhaps, but not bleeding anywhere.

He rubs a hand over his face. And then he says, "Not just the blood?"

[i_am_your_host]

He turns his head a little more. It's not an apology, but he wasn't fishing for one anyway. It's close enough.

"No. I have to be more careful, too. Sometimes I forget how dangerous you are," he adds, paraphrasing him.

Not an accusation, not blaming Eric for anything. Just a statement of fact.

[onceaviking]

"People often do," Eric says.
Agrees.

Sometimes, and he is not prepared to admit that, even to himself, he forgets it too.

He stretches, the muscles moving smoothly under his skin.
Between the six or seven hours at home and this, he is feeling positively alive. It shows in the little, pleased hum when he is done stretching, and the way he runs his face (and nose) along his own hand and arm. Small traces if whom he used to be, back when his muscles needed stretching and his skin got covered in his own sweat.

[i_am_your_host]

He says nothing in response to that. It could be to his advantage that people forget. That they forget their distrust, their fears, their instincts. And then they end up being careless, doing something stupid.

Emcee still wonders why he still trusts Eric. Sometimes it seems like a stupid thing to do. And he doesn't want to be stupid.

He watches Eric with a smoky lidded eye, his face buried half against his folded arms. It's like watching a lion lounge around right next to you after a satisfying meal. Sure, he's just fed, but you know he could always eat again.

Still, he's fucking beautiful, and it's not fair.

"I ought to go take a shower but if you keep doing that I may never leave," he mumbles against his arm.

[onceaviking]

Emcee is perceptive. It's an art form really, among vampires. Being able to make humans forget just how dangerous a vampire right next to you is.
Of course, with mainstreaming, it seems as if a lot of vampires are mainly concerned with making themselves forget how dangerous they are.

And that is indeed dangerous.

He turns his head to look over at Emcce. "Hmm?"
He heard him perfectly fine.

[i_am_your_host]

Now that forces a snorted chuckle out of him, and he rolls his eyes as he rolls over and sits up, wrapping his arms around his knees.

"Your innocent face is the least convincing of your expressions, darling. You might take another decade or so to work on that one."

[onceaviking]

"Really? I thought I was doing pretty well," Eric says, not at all embarrassed at being caught out.

"You can look if you like. I don't mind."

[i_am_your_host]

And there he goes, being charming. Making him forget.

"Oh, I know you don't mind. You don't do modest very well either, you know," he adds cheekily.

"Although, I will tell you, when I was a woman and you came up to me with your charming face on, I have to admit, I was rather smitten with that one. That is a good face. Keep that one."

[onceaviking]

"I am rather partial to that face myself as well," Eric says, smiling.

"If you want to, you can touch as well. It sometimes creates an urge."
The blood.
Or intensifies an existing one.

[i_am_your_host]

Annnnd there's the face.

He utters a short, exasperated half sigh, half chuckle.

"Ugh, darling, don't talk to me about urges. All of this, here?" He makes grand, sweeping gestures up and down Eric's body. "That is one big urge. All of it. Really. Honestly, I amaze myself that I am even sitting here within three feet of you, because resisting an urge as large as you requires a ludicrous amount of willpower, and I really ought to be taking that shower right now."

[onceaviking]

Eric laughs.

"Off you go then," he says. "Hang up the towels.when you are done."
He is rather enjoying smelling of sex right now. The way the scents layer. He can almost pretend his own scent is in there as well. Somewhere.

He stretches again and curls up on his side.

[i_am_your_host]

With a twitch of his lips, he slips off the bed.

"Yes, dear," he mutters like a beleaguered spouse, barely reining in a smirk as he crosses the room. Sparing Eric a glance over his shoulder, he enters the bathroom and closes the door behind him.

While in the (glorious) shower, he makes a mental note to write an act about big urges. Herman can play the urge. If it made a vampire laugh, then it ought to go over well with a drunk and horny crowd.

He also debates over whether he should stay or leave.

Pretty much if he wants to do something stupid or not.


Some twenty minutes later he emerges from the steam-filled bathroom, naked and scrubbed clean of blood. Glancing at Eric again, he heads for his clothes on the chair.