The Ideal Vampire [Closed to original_sin]

[original_sin]

For a long stretch, he considered the sinuous creature before him, looking at the discarded shirt, then back at the vampire. He didn't exactly want the man, let alone a man, but he was upset and not a little aroused. With a sharper tilt of his head, the chink in his neck cracked free. Vincent considered severing the bond between them. Oh, he could not actually sever it, but could certainly make the other believe it was gone. Yet Rafael's interest and inclinations seemed genuine. A certain impulse, unfortunately touching in sadism, caused his lips to twitch in a grin if only for an instant. Would a creature that was used to wielding power derive any sexual pleasure from having that power subdued and reduced to another's toy?

With great deliberateness he removed his shoes and socks, standing slowly, drawing himself to full height. Then he was behind Rafael with that peculiar quirk of motion, as though he had not bothered with the space between them, like a film that suddenly skips, leaving that bewildering jump of motion. He was close enough that Rafael could feel his breath. Placing the tips of his fingers on the other's shoulder, drawing them lightly down Rafael's back and waist, and muttered lowly to his ear: “On the contrary, I would not have you stop your discourse on luxury and power Master Rafael, for are they not the greatest of aphrodisiacs?”

Reaching from behind, he ran a hand along the other's chest and then make a peculiar gesture. The lights of the room extinguished themselves, leaving the two men in the shadowy illumination of the city lights from below. Then with great suddenness he caught and locked the vampire by the neck and arm and threw him clean across the room to strike against the wall. Vincent did not fear for other's safety, undoubtedly made of sterner stuff.

When Rafael recovered, Vincent was advancing on him without hurry. His composure was tensed to fight, but his eyes were playful, wild, and mercurial.

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

Rafael snarled at the other man, baring sharp, shining white teeth at him as he swiftly got his feet under him again. He could feel the blood stirring in his own veins to accompany the rumbling in his throat. His heart thudded irregularly. That had felt good, he had liked that, enjoyed the heat of his breathing body close to him, the fingers exploring his back. He didn't prefer men to women-- nor did he prefer women to men-- but men had a lure he didn't associate with serving, or being subdued.

Until now, potentially. What a damn waste. You look for something uncomplicated, and look what you get for it.... The emotion seeping through the bond wasn't fear, or even anger, but an almost overwhelming and unwanted irritation. He stilled himself against the wall, watching him in the silver glow so familiar to him, reflection of electric lights and the sun across the other side of the Earth, or so he'd been told. It was that and the look in his eyes (which he found rather promising) as much as want and curiousity that kept him from attacking as the other approached, closing his lips over his fangs.

In the end, when he was honest with himself-- Vincent would have him if he wanted to have him, whether he consented or not. His virtue was basically non-existent; he wouldn't fight, and possibly die, over that. But as he was in this case rather interested himself... "Your idea of what is luxurious," he spat, "Needs more improvement than I think I can explain, no matter how thick the carpet is."

 

[original_sin]

Vincent laughed. “What is luxury other than a means to pleasure Rafael? In other words, substance is quite irrelevant, do you not think? Luxury a pleasure unto itself.”

With another of his 'jumps' he had reached the vampire and lifted him into the air, ready to hurl him. But he did not. Formerly Rafael had only seen, and now he experienced, as Vincent jumped from wall to sofa. Rafael's senses reeled in total disorientation for a moment, then he was thrown face down onto the sofa, which groaned in protest of the sudden weight. If there was irritation in Rafael's part, Vincent was deriving great enjoyment from this horseplay.

Reaching over, he dragged Rafael halfway so that his knees were on the ground. Leaning over, his taught body pressed hard and against the icy back, he bit the vampire's shoulder none too gently, though not hard enough to draw blood, whilst a warm hand explored hard curve of his waistline and back. Straightening himself, he held his new plaything down by the neck, and his free hand sought the hem of Rafael's jeans, half pulling, half tearing it down to reveal the buttocks beneath.

“You have done much and slain many in your time vampire, but tell me, can you handle a man?” Vincent taunted, grabbing the cold flesh of the cheeks, his fingers digging deeply.

Leaning closely enough that Rafael could feel the heat of his of his breath upon his ear, Vincent whispered heatedly: “How cold you are... can you still remember what it was like to be warm Master Rafael? To feel the heat in your body as it runs and pulses through you? Soon, I shall give you a remembrance of that luxury.”

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

"Your ideas of pleasure also--" None of it hurt, exactly. If Vincent had been that rough he would've turned around and done his best to snap his neck; humans were pathetically fragile in that regard. But it was not-- not pleasant, not in the least. By the time he had his knees on the floor and the other man behind him, he was as ready to eat the other man, simply rip the flesh from his bones and chew it, as he was let himself be fucked by him. He was too dizzy to finish, almost too dazed to register the man's next words, register anything beyond there being something, something, that would reward him if he didn't kill the other man now.

His body was so tense under the other man's teeth that if he was human, he would've been shaken with anger. What little he seemed to hve relaxed into enjoyment of the hand exploring his skin evaporated into anger, hunger and want as his hand pressed down on his neck-- it was that, as much as pulling down his jeans, that finally made him pay attention. With his curled, dark hair arrayed around him on the couch, his neck in hand, his body slender and bared for touching, there was certainly something... Appealing, perhaps, to see sense him listening so intently.

He finally relaxed again underneath his touch at his last words. Heat. Luxury. Warmth. No, he had not had that-- his first question had been laughable; if Vincent had been fucked more than he had, he didn't see what else he would've had time for in his short life. There was no fear in him, no shame, just his head resting against his arm, braced against the pressure at his neck with no move made to defend himself or to stop the other man in any way. He reached his other hand around to curl into Vincent's fingers, accepting, soft. No doubt the bond master could feel something like gratefulness through the ties between them; without that hand, he doubtlessly would've turned and bit him, and then it all would have stopped.

"I am not afraid of men or heat at all," he murmured, cultured, one word running into the next. "Nor you, not now. In this I am yours; give me the luxury of pretending we have a different sort of fire between us, if you would, and do no harm me."

 

[original_sin]

Vincent grinned, pulling away softly and though he did not relinquish his grip, it was not as stern as it had formerly been. “Harm was not intention, though perhaps anger what my objective – to see what fire you had within you, to hear your curses or you passion. I must admit to surprise. I had expected you to fight for your place to be on top – to be the ones pulling at the reigns of power so to speak.”

“Does this please you more?” Vincent emphasised his question with a sweeping caress of the other, starting from the shaft to the forbidden passage. He wondered briefly how often this path had been tread by others without revulsion, though perhaps a perverse delight – to know skill of teasing another to climax vulgar and forbidden. Taking the other by his shoulders, he turned Rafael to his back and completed the removal of the vampires clothes to leave him a pale naked figure. Placing his hands on the cold flesh of the vampire's shoulders, he brought Rafael heavily upon his bed, vacating the living room.

The room was large and vacant, which seemed to emphasise the largeness of the bed and the billowing gossamer curtains that allowed the night breezed and a glimpse of the nighted city beyond. Just as the mattress was soft, so was its fabric, and cool against the body, or at least Vincent's body. Leaving Rafael on the bed, he unzipped the remaining garment from him, never taking his eyes away from the other, and kicked away his trousers to lie forgotten in the corner.

Vincent was not as slender as his counter-part, nor as pale, and somewhat taller. Luxury was a thing few and far between for him and a chance to indulge never found him wanting and eager. If his actions were rough, it was because it was all he knew of physical interaction – some of the women he had known hated it, others loved – Rafael was just another vessel to quench his fire, and had an even chance of enjoying it or not. That was all.

Kneeling beside the man, he leaned over Rafael, caressing the other's chest. Under hand, the cool skin was smooth and comforting, even if it was cold. “What kind of fire would you have me light for you Master Rafael? Is it one to quicken your loins as you experience the hard passion of another man? If a heavy carpet or sofa of leather is not comfort enough, perhaps a bed of satin will do for your coupling?”

Vincent himself was already in full arousal, his erection straining to defy gravity, partly succeeding. He could feel the heavy beat of blood in it and wondered how it would seem for Rafael. But was not only the sanguine pulse, but that of desire too, the clear bead of slippery fluid that seeped out in the excitement. Though his initial idea had been to have the other bent over and their rutting animal like, he was determined to see vampire's face when he took him. Reaching upward, he placed knee between to part the other's legs.

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

"It pleases me, yes," he confessed with the air of the unrepentant, arching his back with a broad smile as he was touched, meeting his eyes with half-lidded pleasure. There was no question he enjoyed it, hardening further under that brief, rough touch. He helped slip off his own clothes, leaning back against the couch with an undiguised appreciation. He let him bring him to the bedroom unresistingly, and found it rather less jarring than the times they had moved together before.*

The bedroom was beautiful, yes, and there was enough vanity in his dark, sensual soul to know exactly how he would look laid out across the covers, long-fingered hands supporting his weight behind him, his back naturally curved, his legs just a suggestion of open, his gaze sultry and intense-- a promise heat and good behavior, intent. Better men than Vincent had fallen to his charms, better women as well; but he would certainly rate this young, hard man as one of the most intriguing ones of the last few decades at least... His eyes moved over his naked body like a conoissuer, laughing as he saw him erect, appreciative rather than derisive, with a rich edge of self-mockery and good-humor.

"If you had thrown all your clothes off and looked at me like that," he smirked, his eyes almost closing as he revelled in the other man's hands on his chest, as he spread his legs willingly around his knee and ground against him, "You might've had me on the floor, or on leather, or over the edge of the table as you liked, I wouldn't have argued-- but if you have more fire than that implies, I'll take that as well." Rafael laughed again, this soft, dark silken thing to match the sheets he lay on-- a bedroom laugh, he had surely heard that expression first in America, not more than half a century ago. *

"You quite mistake me, Vincent," he caressed the name like a lover, pressing an intimate kiss just over his jugular, though he still did not reach out a hand to touch him. "I have a temper, certainly, but I have never been... So vulgar as to be controlling. You will find me an agreeable enough follower, do you treat me with--" He ran his tongue up his neck, with such lightness and skill that it seemed half-breath, whispering the next words in his ear. "Well, hands like that will do. You have touched on nothing yet which I will not tolerate for the sake of good relations and touch, and nothing you are likely to find out about tonight. Fuck me."

 

[original_sin]

"Perhaps I might have," he agreed, "though it would so much less interesting."

Kneeling between the other's legs, he did not immediately comply with the request, but instead smeared the slippery beads emerging from his aching shaft against the forbidden opening that Rafael had offered for his explicit pleasure, until it must have seemed to the vampire that a slippery silk-covered rod of hot rubber were being used between his legs.

“I would have expected you to vie for the position King,” commented Vincent as he took hold Rafael’s hips and plunged his cock deeply into the offered passage, “rather than queen of the bed chamber.”

Leaning over between the others parted legs, he ran his tongue along the Rafael’s chest, upward along his neck. Unlike his lover’s gentler touch, Vincent did not bother with subtlety and Rafael felt the hot wet trail across his body, culminating near his ear. Reaching up, he took a fist-full of Rafael’s black curls, pulling his head back as he began to thrust rudely between the parted legs, his gasping breath hot and humid near the other’s ear. Clutching tightness mixed with the coolness of Rafael’s flesh provided for a unique experience, but already the heat of Vincent’s throbbing length was already beginning to assert itself.

“There will be much time later to explore the carpet or the couch should you so desire, Master Rafael, that is if you haven’t already explored those options before – I am certain half the men you have known have already passed through this way.” With a deeper lunge he emphasised his point, as he grunted in the other’s ear. “Not that I’m one to criticise you of course, you might as well use that tight backside for pleasure since it has little other purpose now.”

Placing his hand beneath the vampire, he ran his fingers along the other’s spine until it reached the bucking hips, where he clutched firmly, pulling Rafael firmly against the burning heat of his body.

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

Rafael tipped his head back ever so slightly as he began to touch him. Hot, slick fingers, thick, long-- there[/there]. Groaning, he arched his back, pushing into his fingers, his touch, his fingers digging into the bedspread, his head tilted back toward the ceiling. Yes, yes-- his apprehensions were completely unfounded; the man wasn't unskilled or inexperienced, just obnoxious, a so-common trait of the masters he'd had in the past that it was hardly worth mentioning...

"Ah," he breathed, short, as the other man thrust into him for the first time, tightening around him reflexsively, feeling a freedom much better than wandering admist stacks of books, of all things. Luxury, they'd called it; sentient right, he called it. "But the queen wears so much more beautiful clothes," he retorted hoarsely, "And she is so frequently so much less of a boar!"

Vincent's tongue left a trail instantly cooled by the air. The way he twisted his head back made him feel wonderfully exposed, left him straining against the other man's body and his own aching hardness to have him deeper in his body. He endured the comments, one more good reason to keep his hands firmly behind him, to be grateful that the other man's hand was tight in his hair. What a ridiculous claim-- not about his ass, that was rather true-- but did he have any idea the number of people he'd met?

He cursed almost inaudibly as a hand slid down his spine, tightening around him in anticipation. He thrust his hips forcefully up into the other man's, the heat of him, the deepness of him. His length was so hard it hurt, even with the pressure of the other man's body above him, slick and uncomfortable. "Fuck me, I said," he ground out, a rush of pent up irritation hitting him, "Don't clutch me to your chest like some type of pining mother! How much clearer could I ever possibly make it?"

 

[original_sin]

“Ha!” Vincent laughed between gasped. “If the queen must be the centre of attention, then likewise she must be the king’s willing whore... much as you will be this night.”

Bracing his legs, he began to thrust in earnest, his hips connecting wetly and loudly with that of his bed-mate; Rafael’s aching member, the principal symbol of any masculinity he might possess, dancing uselessly as it slapped again and again against his stomach, leaving it glistening. Taking it in his free hand, Vincent squeezed it tightly, milking it, until a generous clear bead was drawn forth with which he smeared that lustful length with, before removing his hand leaving Rafael to watch his shaft disappearing just below his balls.

There was nothing flowing through there bond to indicate that to him that Rafael was not enjoying his current predicament of being sodomised – the blatant lack of shame. In a way Vincent came to better understand freedom through this; the lack of responsibility, only ever awaiting the response or effort of another without much caring of their efforts and the knowledge that you were going to enjoy yourself no matter what they did. In a way, he felt like he was being used, being used by such a harlot of a man. Whilst it might have thrilled him to think this of a woman, he experienced simultaneous disgust and exhilaration to think this of Rafael.

And there was nothing he could do about it. He could thrust harder to teach him a lesson, but the man would probably enjoy himself even more. But he had to do something, something to release his frustration. So he released Rafael’s locks, lifting the other’s legs in the air, gripping him by the ankles to spread him crudely, as his renewed efforts brought a coarse grunt with every insolent thrust of his hips, the bed groaning under his efforts, reveling in the immoral allure that would find one man to seek fulfillment on the throbbing shaft of another man's cock, becoming a receptacle for the other's ecstasy.

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

Rafael grinned wickedly as Vincent took him in hand. He was rather wet already, and this was only making it that much better. The other man's hand was strong, controlling in a overt, vulgar way that he'd never experienced with a woman. "Mehr," he murmured, appreciative, absorbed, his body pressing into his touch. "Bitte, ja."

He faltered when he found his head suddenly supported, feeling the hunter's frustration and his legs being pulled open at the same time. There was no point in resisting; after all, that was what he had asked for, and e hadn't been specific. He finally gave himself the desire to touch the other man, finding his balance gracefully even as the other man pounded into him, and as he sat up-- he growled, low, soft, his eyes briefly closing with pleasure. That. There. He wrapped his arms around Vincent's neck and pressed his lips into his skin.

There was heat in the other man's skin. Warmth. And the hardness thrusting into him over and over again-- he shuddered, dug his fingers into shoulders broader than his. "Mehr," he begged, his voice an octave lower, rougher and unrefined, his legs wrapping around the other man's waist. "More, bitte, Vincent."*

It was almost painful, almost too much-- what it took to make him come like this, sex with no grace or history or even much of any feeling in it. He kissed the other man's neck again, fangs grazing the skin, a measure of control left to him even then. "Bitte," he repeated, quieter, "Please."

 

[original_sin]

Even if Vincent was not familiar with the German language, Rafael’s urgings and tone were significant enough – it was the sort of unbridled passion that women so rarely exhibited, but between two men without a need of pretence, friendship, or gentleness, could gush forth without need of restraint on either of their part; to tease and fuck and live for the next day.

“Damn your soul, harlot!” Vincent gasped without heat, nor any negativity in voice or through bond they shared, one that now offered a curious perspective on their current circumstance; to be both willing victim and sweating aggressor at the same time. Vincent was already as one who had dived into a river and reemerged soaked, and Rafael’s fingers dug deep into the flesh of his shoulder to maintain the grip. Closing his eyes, teeth clenched, he threw his head back in hard-bitten concentration as this seducer of men pleasured him with the skill won from hundreds of lovers, and only his iron endurance and relentless drive allowing him to match raw prowess against exquisite skill.

And as the vampire folded himself like an acrobat, Vincent ran his hand down his back, to clutch Rafael against him by his straining buttocks, which rolled like sinuous muscle beneath his strong fingers. There was none to see them through the billowing gossamer curtains as the coupled high above the city, yet had there been, it might have been the perfect scene of male lust and passion as written in a literary scene.

Relinquishing the grip of one of Rafael’s cheeks, he reached up to the vampire’s head as those teeth grazed his neck, taking those black curls between his fingers once again to twist that devilishly beautiful face to gaze into his own. For a moment it seemed that he might kiss the other, but then he hurled Rafael flat against the bed, and, reaching down, lifted the vampire so that his lower body was suspended by his hands. With his body already flushed from his exertions, Vincent renewed his efforts to stake his claim and ownership of the other’s body in the only way men knew best.

“You beg exceedingly wantonly for man, Master Rafael, but, as you have said, a queen cannot be a bore, though if only because you are so adept at seducing using feminine wiles,” he groaned as he felt the Rafael’s tight flesh engulf him yet again. “Soon we shall both spill our seed in vain for no other reason than that there was carnal pleasure to be had, but before that, I would know from your own lips how many men you have had service you, my little fuck doll?” There was no real reason in his asking, if little more than perverse curiosity of knowing how far down the line he had come.

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

Rafael choked as much as laughed, his mind everywhere. There was the smooth bedsheet behind him, there was the other man's sweat on his skin, the visceral memory of hands clutching his cheeks. When he had looked into the other man's eyes, that too had been oddly disconcerting, his intensity arousing him nearly as much as the way he was pushing in and out of him, stretching skin that would soon tighten again, touching the very core of him.

"That is my new favorite endearment, that or harlot," Rafael confided, laughter clear even through heavy breaths, his heart thudding in a way that was almost uncomfortable for its recent rarity. "It suits us so--! How many men, you ask me, I say: enough that I cannot even begin count, does that satisfy you at all? Some hundreds? Many thicker than you but few more enthused?"

 

[original_sin]

Vincent grunted. In other words you’ve well used, and cheaply. For whatever the reason, the thought was perversely arousing, and he gave a strained choke as spasm took him, lining Rafael’s passage with a sliver of his ejaculate. Damn such a harlot of man for being his new partner, for he had never met one such as him before, man or woman. And it just had to be a man. Vincent laughed at it all, before concentration forced him back.

“Then my estimate of you was too high!” his grin feral in every aspect, as the waves of pleasure began to fight his body for control. “You are far more of a virgin then I thought, though still a vulgar repository all the same – only this time you’ll the receptacle for my release and for quite some time – I hope we understand one another, my sweet little harlot.”

Whether he understood or not soon became largely irrelevant for he was verily about to become that very receptacle his ravisher spoke of, for Vincent was now at the very brink; Rafael’s loving passage having teased and seduced to its reward, to be conquered and made slick by yet another lover taken and claimed. Vincent gave his gasp and moaned into Rafael’s ear as the thick torrents of his seed began to pulse and spurt, his shaft engorged and stretching the ring of muscle that clenched upon him. Throwing his head back, his aching cry was selfish and triumphant as he allowed his lover to milk him dry.

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

"I understand that while your knowledge of romance is extremely lacking, human, your familiarity with vulgar luxuries may just make up for it, boy-- so, on the whole," he spat, struggling for concentration and winning out with skill of long practice, even as the other man pounded into him, his skin burning from heat, even as he tightened around him for both their pleasure and just barely kept himself from giving up the game, he ennuciated with an actor's diction, "That is a fine end for the beginning."

He shuddered under him, fingers curling into the covers in a way that might've ripped flesh, the tingle and the sudden tightening off his body the only hint that he was coming, calling out some meaningless German vowel as he came over the other man's stomach, the world exploding in bliss as he squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back, tossing it from side to side as the orgasm crushed him. Pleasure/pain in heat, tightness, deep in him, wet, burning: there was that, leaving him full, calm, legs wrapping around him and squeezing his member tightly again, sure to wring the last possible bit of pleasure out of it for his partner.

Yes, we understand each other, rather, Rafael mused lazily, his mind unconsciously open to the bond, to new ideas, to what felt like anything at all. I like to be fucked and you have the silver of respect for me that will make it bearable, an imagination, a strength... I might stay with you without temptation for a time, if you prove focused enough of your work to let me do more than this-- oh, after awhile. I could stand a week of this; a vacation, if you will...

 

[original_sin]

It took some time for Vincent to regain enough composure to speak; Rafael’s tender ministrations having been practiced and exquisite, and honed to perfection over the course of centuries and many lovers. The sticky mess upon his stomach did not repulse him, was even amazed that a man could find such joy and pleasure as to deluge his passion by having received only stimulation of his well used anus. Allowing his body to relax and press the other into the soft mattress and smearing Rafael’s offerings between them.

“Perhaps it will be worth our while to explore such options Master Rafael,” he growled, “but familiarity ends here in the bedchamber, and however much you squirm beneath me, do not expect an easy ride, and so I shall not remind you of our terms. Indeed, if we are amendable, we may provide for many benefits that were not necessarily in our agreement... our contract.”

Heaving himself off the lean seductive form beneath him, he withdrew himself from the other, a sliver of his seed staining the sheets, taking only some further moments to admire the body he had just ravished. “I shall hope that you do not intend to spend all evening on my bed, unless you would rather spend them with open legs to pay for your space.”

Replacing his trousers he walked to the balcony stone balcony with flanking decorative gargoyles to look over the city once again, trying to sense the aura he had felt earlier, but it had faded completely. Tilting his head to the side until he felt the crack of cartilage, he leaned upon the stone railing and looked down at the transient life below, far too absorbed in its own affairs to be concerned or even to have paid mind that two men had found ecstasy in the towers above their heads.

The winds were chill this far up, but the heat of his body was still fierce and flushed and he withstood them for a while longer without notice.

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

Rafael rose from the bed once the other man had moved off him with little more than a rustle of linen, a trace of cum on his thighs and splattered across his stomach, every moment balanced and easy. There was something un-manly about him, yes, as he moved gracefully across the room, rolling over the heel of his foot and pushing off the ball, his calf and thigh stretched out perfectly after him-- there was no brutish, bulky, wasted movement; rather there was a coiled, comfortable energy buried within him even after having enthusiastically been used.

To call it feminine had parallels but was not quite correct (though, certainly, he was beautiful). But to watch him naked and thoughtless, it was perhaps easier to say that it was some inhuman, unhideably trait showing itself, the unconscious yet undeniable sinuations of graceful, efficient predator currently at rest.

In short, he seemed to be completely unintimidated, and paused only to so long to reply as to make sure he did not interrupt (which was, in his opinion, rather rude no matter how uncivilized your conversaitonal partner), in such hearing his second remark. "I think that so long as I learn to ignore the vast majority of what you say, I shall be able to avoid formulating a worthy response to it, yes. I recall something about a contract, and not being welcome-- excuse me, Vincent," he laughed softly, derisive, "I shall have a shower, perhaps explore the apartment further; I shall meet you in the living room in twenty minutes, if you are... Ammenable.

"If you are not, I suppose I have all night to wait for you, no? I will find something with which to amuse myself, I promise you."

He turned from open door, from the city noises and the night wind, a scene far too familiar to him to provide him any amusement without the best company, plucking up clothes on his way to the bathroom. Marble, brushed steel, smokey glass around the shower: he sighed, comforted, and did not bother to lock the door behind him. Ah... So how, exactly, was he supposed to be suffering in exchange for this? Was he meant to despise Vincent more than he'd despised all other masters in the past? Ah, yet if they had been sleeping together, he supposed he would have worked harder to build his tolerance to them.

He turned on the water, cool, and sighed as he stepped into it. A pity he'd not bothered to unpack his own things, but surely the bottles set out there were worth a try.

 

[original_sin]

When he determined he could no longer find the aura he sought, he came back within for there was little point in standing there. Not to mention, it left him feeling exposed to be here, and remains of Rafael’s orgasm was still on his stomach at any rate. He could hear the running of water as entered back in. Rafael had already picked up his own clothing, so unabashed, and returning to a normal life. Vincent had always supposed a man remain who had just been used by another would remain upon his bed as he contemplated his violation. Perhaps not.

Pulling open the fridge, he saw nothing particularly appetising. Opening a carton of milk, he set it vertically and drank deeply until some of the contents dribbled down from the side of his mouth before he set it down. He sighed deeply, for the cold that suddenly spread to dissipate the heat of his body felt refreshing.

Walking to the hissing shower, he stood at the doorway watching the other cleanse himself. Moving over to the bed, he looked over the swords. He himself preferred the larger knife, as he was frequently made to work at intimate quarters with his prey. Guns were there for those times when he could not get close.

“There is no need to find amusement by yourself,” commented Vincent as he looked over the bottles in the cabinet, “I am certain I alone can provide entertainment enough for you if you are as of yet unsated.”

Sitting bare-chested in the dark of the living room, he overlooked the city before him whilst he swirled the contents of his glass. Running his hand to smooth the disarrayed locks of his hair, he considered their first task which would commence after the next sunset.

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

The vampire spared a glance at the other man through the splattered glass, though it was a bit too opaque to see him very well. He appeared to be looked at Rafael's bed, which didn't trouble him in the slightest. Neither of the weapons meant terribly much to him-- while he had always enjoyed fencing in court, he harbored no sentimentality for it. (Yes-- Yes, there were memories of Giles, uniquely unattractive Giles, child of the master of France-- oddly enough, memories of the strange friendship that had crept up like a weed, confusingly unrelated to sex or politics. He wasn't sure either of them knew quite what to make of it even centuries later. Sometimes he missed corresponding with him, his satirical updates on European court politics; one of the many things he'd missed about living freely.)

He dried himself off with one of the towels avaliable, rather too fluffily inefficient for his taste. That would have to remedied later. The scent of expensive conditioner clung to him, an inoffensive yet unidentifiable. Someday he thought he might like to know how exactly that was manufactured. He headed out to the living room after a brief glance at the mirror-- the steam made it difficult to determine how exactly he looked (he could generally see himself; it was a rare vampire who couldn't), but he found he didn't much care.

Rafael sat down on the couch next to him in a manner which barely rippled the surface of his drink. His hair was damp and already curling, soft, black whisps he had not yet bothered to tame. If it seemed they would leave he supposed he would make something more of himself; for now he took his cues for Vincent and reclined into the leather, his smooth chest bare, a pair of comfortably worn jeans barely covering his hips. The skin was tight over what must be muscle, though overall the effect of his body was rather unintimidating, and even the way he tilted his head back to gaze up at the ceiling served to make him look submissive and tame, if also exceedingly relaxed. There were two small scars under his jaw, both in approximately the same place on either side, only visible with his head tilted back like so. They were remarkably only in that they were the only ones on his body, as Vincent would now confidently be able to say, or perhaps in that they appeared to be old puncture wounds in a rather odd place.

"Very well. Speak, your words have all my attention."

 

[original_sin]

“Well, since the formalities and... pleasantries of introduction are done, it would be well to focus on business as opposed to pleasure. When the sun sets this eve, we will be hunting, first for information, then for a vampire. Perhaps even one that you are acquainted with, though a former one to be certain, who has decided to carve a domain from these lands. Unacceptable, if nothing else.”

“I am expecting a good performance from you, Master Rafael, possibly exceeding this evening’s if at all possible or at least on par.” Turning over, he allowed some of the contents of his glass to dribble over the vampire’s neck and chest, before leaning over to lick off the remnants, drinking from the little pool at the hollow of the neck. With his fingers he touched the scars that were revealed. “Peculiar wounds, undoubtedly with an interesting story,” he commented without particular curiosity, before running his tongue over the other’s nipple and gave it a light nibble.

Standing, he drained the contents of his glass and set the empty beaker on the table behind them, before approaching the couch once again, running his fingers through the other’s hair and lightly touching the sleek shoulders. “If you have any reservations or suggestions, now might be a good time to voice them, or hold them silent until we are done.”

If he was as sensual as he appeared, he preferred seduction to mentally bludgeoning another into submission – it was a far surer path, and one with benefits. “Consider them and tell them to me when I return, or in the shower, which ever you prefer.” Suiting word to action, he left the other for the warm embrace of the water and steam.

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

"...Possibly exceeding this evening’s if at all possible or at least on par," the human said, and he listened, caught between a scoff and a certain satisfaction, both reactions quickly squashed as unhelpful to decision-making.

Rafael tensed fractionally as the other man turned to him, a split second avaliable to decide against moving his eyes from the ceiling. Oh, he was confident enough of the other's mood to say that no serious attempts on his life were likely, skilled enough with people to guess that Vincent was not quite so unpredictable as to kill him and feel no anticipation. Of course, there were numerous unpleasant things he could be doing without intending to so much as injure him...

The liquid splashed on his skin, cool; air pressed out through his teeth, as much hiss as sigh. Heat stirred in him, tightening his hands near his thighs. Tongue on him, rather cold, very pleasant until the moment the other man's fingers touched just under his jaw, a huge unease built in him, no doubt clear over the bond, his lips curling in what looked perfectly like distaste, and would have been passed off as such-- had Vincent not had the means to know, if he dug for it: rather than dislike or a healthy suspicion, that feeling was most definitely fear. He lay still as as he was touched, unusually unresponsive, and although the anxeity passed the moment his fingers were off his jaw, he could not quite bring himself to enjoy the mouth on him as much as he ought.

He let out a slow breath, quiet still as the other man stood, hyperaware of his position in the room though he did not turn, and another quiet exhalation as he touched his hair. That... That was pleasurable, yes. Most of the tension ran out of him. He was quiet for a few moments, gathering his thoughts, allowing for time for the other to undress-- he counted under his breath, and was rewarded by the sound of water turning on in the next room. He would remember how long that had taken fro the future. He rose, shedding his jeans again just inside the bathroom for the next time that evening. Yes-- yes, he was liking Vincent a great deal more than Clara so far, even leaving a great deal of room for him to be an utter ass once they had actually left out to work.

"I understand, of course, the necessity of changing one's loyalties under a new regime--" The word was not charged from his lips, underogatory and factual, as he slipped into the shower, sliding the glass door shut behind him. The water was warm, but agreeable enough, he found.

"I shall, of course, do my very best to kill if you ask me to kill and stay my hand when you ask me to as well." He ran his fingers lightly over the other man's wet chest, reaching over the soap as a matter of course. Having been practically invited to do so, it seemed foolish to turn down his bare, muscular body like it was some unwanted gift.

"There are a few people who I owe my personal loyalties, you understand, a very few," he told him softly, deferent, lathered fingers running lower down his body, the vampire against his back, "And a few actions on top of that would decrease the likelihood of living through this century to a level unacceptable to me. Would you like to hear more about that now, or perhaps-- perhaps business is a bit tiresome, after all...?"

 

[original_sin]

“By all means Master Rafael, you may speak as freely as you wish,” answered Vincent. “You words and dialogue would make for a welcome change of pace and you shall not find me objecting to hearing what you have to say.”

Vincent did not hide the fact that he was enjoying the feel of the other’s hands upon him – there had been very little reason to offer the company of the shower otherwise. He locked his eyes into that of the vampire – indeed there was very little at present to indicate that a hunter currently shared the apartment with him – save for the unusual degree of sensuality and those eyes wherein a lesser man might find his doom. In a way, it was interesting for a person to think that they had put a collar and leash upon death.

Of course, Vincent did not allow himself to believe that he had collared and leashed this one, whatever promises he made. His emotions rippled through the bond, and he placed hand upon the other’s cheek, thumbing his lips non-too gently. “What might you have to tell me, Master Rafael, that might make your tenure in my care more bearable?”

Lifting his arms, he gripped the showerhead displaying his body magnificently as he allowed the other greater access to run the soap. Beneath Rafael’s hands, the soft expansion and contraction of his chest was relaxed and rhythmic, as was the feeling that ran through the bond. He did not fear the other’s presence and it was hard to tell whether it was supreme confidence or unfounded bravado that led him to believe he was safe from the fangs of the predator.

 

[TheYoungAzreal]

He hummed quietly, running hands lathered with soap up his body as he felt that gesture warranted, over his chest, lingering briefly on his nipples, under his arms, over his throat. He hand his hands around his arms, up to his wrists, and down again, having to lean up on his toes to do so.

Rafael felt considerably more relaxed by the time he was settling down on his knees, running his hands down to the other man's stomach as he lowered himself, stopping with a few last, lingering touches before he felt it time to lather his hands up again with soap. Oh, he enjoyed being the center of attention, to hear his own name softly with familiarity, to be asked to speak--

"There are few masters in Europe that I once served," he murmured softly, his words just audible above the water on the still-cool tile. His hands rubbed the leg closest to him from calf to thigh, his slim fingers caressing, sensual but through. "I cannot challenge them now, no matter what allies or reassurances you have-- empires, as I think you will agree, rise and fall, and I should not like to ruin my chances of ever accepting another position across the Atlantic."

The vampire sat back briefly and let the soap be washed off before leaning against the leg himself, his thighs around it, Vincent's knee pressed between his legs, ever so slightly hard. His body was warm where he knelt in front if him, ever so slightly warm from the water washing over him. He rested his head against his stomach, inches away from his manhood and tilted down so that the water would trickle off of it, and continued to speak, his breath still cool, brushing enticingly against sensitive skin.

"I have also a very few personal allies I would be hard-pressed to lose, who supported me during the war and my rise in Venice, as I told you-- they I would not want to harm," he confided softly-- perhaps it would occur to the human that in the evening that had been together, no matter how pressed, he had not heard him raise his voice much above that. Though his spoke with some frequency, it made it easier to think of him as quiet nonetheless. His washed his other leg in much the same way, soap-slicked fingers over muscle, then shifted, lowered his head and slowly licked a line along the top of his cock. "I think it is, all and all, rather safe for us in Europe so long as we avoid France and the Netherlands. There is no reason for you not be accepted as my master with the bond between us except for the political ones-- I understand that human masters as no longer unheard of."

"What do you think?" he asked him, soft and rather deferential-- There was nothing in the bond to suggest that Rafael did this out of a sense of obligation, or in attempt to manipulate him. His lips brushed the tip of his cock, very soft, the gesture well-practiced. It had been years since he'd done this but he hadn't forgotten the feeling of fingers in his hair. Harlot Queen wasn't a terribly inaccurate thing to call him in his context.