He pants and keeps moving, staring down at him. "Do something for me," but that's all he can get across his vocal chords. Drop the fangs, but don't bite me. I just want to see them. He has no idea why, but he does.
It's not a conscious decision on his part. Rather, he's been holding back, waiting for permission. His fangs drop, eyes glow, and he opens his mouth in a low moan that sounds almost like a growl.
There's a matching moan from Michael and he throws his head back, concentrating, holding back just a bit longer. He feels his fingers clenching harder into Nick's hips as he drives deep, pushing hard. Fuck... Nick.
He's at the point where Nick's internal ramblings aren't nearly distraction enough.
He drives his hips into Michael, interrupting the rhythme, making him shudder with the feel of it. His moans are part growl now and his eyes are bright, the dropping of his fangs more a necessity than from suggestion. He wants to bite...but he knows he doesn't have permission. Thus he holds his arm ready.
He latches on to Nick's wrist, pulling him up, rolling them over, somehow, so Nick's sitting on him and he's got an arm braced against Nick's chest. He's panting under the sight of the fangs and yellow eyes.
Hold off... he pants... I'll let you bite me, but wait.
He's so damned close he can feel it. Keeping one hand braced against Nick's chest, he reaches with the other to stroke Nick's cock in time with Nick's hips.
Nick's disoriented for only the briefest of periods before his eyes roll back in his head at the hand around him. He rocks his hips, into Michael, onto Michael, and keeps his fangs to himself as asked...for now.
Michael licks his lips. He wants to reach up and kiss Nick - fangs and all. He does. But, then again, maybe not. He swallows hard, still stroking Nick, but one good thrust from the vampire and he groans and pushes his hips up against Nick, hard, crashing over the edge. Oh... fuck.
He pants, heavily and stares up at Nick. When you come, you can bite me. And he feels his heart race even faster in anticipation of all of it.
He rocks, hands clinging to either side of Michael's torso, fingers curling nearly into the flesh they're curled around.
As you--
And it hits, the last stroke of Michael's hand on him and he dives down, fangs slicing neatly into Michael's throat as he drinks, sending a jot of pleasure through even as he does to cover the pain, though a slice of it still slips through.
He closes his eyes, wincing a little at the pain, feeling a rib or two doing their best to not crack.
Then, the fangs in his neck... God-dammit, Nick! Fuck! and he kicks out, his foot making contact with the footboard and sending it across the room. A hand digs into his hair, pulling, hard, just on the hair, not trying to drag the fangs out of his flesh, because he knows it would never work.
And the pleasure and pain mix together and his hand falls from the vampire's hair and his head rolls back as Nick drinks.
He drinks for only a moment, long enough to savor but not enough to glut. He knows what he's drinking now, knows what's in his mouth in slowly permiating his soul through the rich red slipping between his lips, and he searches it, sliding his senses along every crevice and curve of it, truly tasting.
And then he pulls away, eyes a brilliant glowing bluewhite, and stares at Michael for just a moment before collapsing to the side, mouth reaching out for the wound to lick it closed even as his hane reaches feebly up to heal it.
Because it feels good. Because I've already drank from you, know what's there. Know...and I'm still here. That's a connection, Michael. That's a bond of great trust.
A soft kiss.
That and because it feels fucking amazing and you know it.
Michael pushes and rolls and works his way to laying atop Nick, knees on either side of the vampire's hips, chest splayed out over Nick's. He presses his lips to Nick's - hard, rough, hungry, passionate, wanting. Because the stupid vampire was right - it did feel fucking amazing.
Suddenly, the kiss stops, but his mouth is still against Nick's. What the fuck do you mean you 'know what's there'?
He's still a moment - except for the heavy breathing. Then he resumes the kissing - because, damn, it's Nick. The kisses are deep and hot and long and slow.
I'll hold it up long enough for us to finish...then you're on your own, Michael.
His own hands wander, sliding along the planes of Michael's back, across scars and marks, lingering with care over each one, touch light and almost teasing except that it never leaves the skin.
Shit, Nick. Fucking bed can fall into the damned bar. I'll sleep on the floor.
He loves the feel of Nick's hands on his skin, touching his back. Considering it was Nick who introduced all of the nice, lingering touching as 'good things', he especially loves it when it's Nick doing the touching. Please, keep doing that. While he continues to hold the kiss.
He'd ask if Nick wanted company, but that's not fair to David, so, he doesn't ask.
One hand continues while the other moves to his face, tracing the line of the scar there with his thumb carefully, gently. His eyes are still glowing faintly, his lips curved in a gently smile for the few moments they're pulled away from Michael's before he cups the other man's cheek in his palm to kiss him again.
He doesn't move his head as Nick's thumb traces the long scar on his face. He catches the faintest hints of the glowing eyes, but doesn't pay them much attention, he just lets himself be drawn into the kiss.
He could stay here, all night, but he knows that won't happen either. He knows Nick will go and he'll be left here, alone, in this room, with his broken bed and the hole in the wall. Maybe he will curl up and sleep on the floor tonight.
Because he loves David. Because David is his other half. Because David is the completion to his soul...but he cares about Michael deeply...and he wishes he could take that pain away from him. Wishes he could take the loneliness away for another night.
And he projects now. It's not calm or peace. It's just love...because he knows that Michael doesn't realize simple truths sometimes, and the fact that he is loved is one of those truths.
A few more minutes. I drank from you so...I can skip a meal this time. Just...
And he doesn't tell him; he just kisses him again, hot and slow and deep and soft and with more feeling than Michael probably realizes he has for him.
He sighs into the kiss and feels all of the emotion, the love, even though he, subconsciously, tries to push it away - he can't. It's the one emotion that is just too strong for him to fight. That's why he hid from it for so long. It was the one thing in all the world he couldn't fight.
Nick, stop. He wants Nick to stop throwing emotions at him... or, thinks he does.
Even if I stop, you'll still know it. Even if I stop, it's still true. Even if I stop...you're still loved.
And he doesn't pull away, doesn't stop kissing, doesn't stop projecting because while he always gives people what they want, sometimes he gives them what they need...
And let's his heart take the scars for the consequences.
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It's not baseball, Winston Churchill, or England, but it does help.
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He pants and keeps moving, staring down at him. "Do something for me," but that's all he can get across his vocal chords. Drop the fangs, but don't bite me. I just want to see them. He has no idea why, but he does.
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He's at the point where Nick's internal ramblings aren't nearly distraction enough.
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He drives his hips into Michael, interrupting the rhythme, making him shudder with the feel of it. His moans are part growl now and his eyes are bright, the dropping of his fangs more a necessity than from suggestion. He wants to bite...but he knows he doesn't have permission. Thus he holds his arm ready.
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He latches on to Nick's wrist, pulling him up, rolling them over, somehow, so Nick's sitting on him and he's got an arm braced against Nick's chest. He's panting under the sight of the fangs and yellow eyes.
Hold off... he pants... I'll let you bite me, but wait.
He's so damned close he can feel it. Keeping one hand braced against Nick's chest, he reaches with the other to stroke Nick's cock in time with Nick's hips.
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He pants, heavily and stares up at Nick. When you come, you can bite me. And he feels his heart race even faster in anticipation of all of it.
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As you--
And it hits, the last stroke of Michael's hand on him and he dives down, fangs slicing neatly into Michael's throat as he drinks, sending a jot of pleasure through even as he does to cover the pain, though a slice of it still slips through.
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Then, the fangs in his neck... God-dammit, Nick! Fuck! and he kicks out, his foot making contact with the footboard and sending it across the room. A hand digs into his hair, pulling, hard, just on the hair, not trying to drag the fangs out of his flesh, because he knows it would never work.
And the pleasure and pain mix together and his hand falls from the vampire's hair and his head rolls back as Nick drinks.
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And then he pulls away, eyes a brilliant glowing bluewhite, and stares at Michael for just a moment before collapsing to the side, mouth reaching out for the wound to lick it closed even as his hane reaches feebly up to heal it.
Fuck, Michael...fuck...
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He pants a bit, trying to regain his breathing. He reaches up and pulls Nick's hand away. Don't. I heal fast enough.
He turns his head. But, you can kiss me instead.
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Yes, well, I really shouldn't, darling.
He sighs, panting really, and lets Michael bat him away. It's small enough that he won't make an issue out of it.
And I'd love to, Michael.
So he does. Kiss him.
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Fuck, why the hell did I let you bite me again?
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A soft kiss.
That and because it feels fucking amazing and you know it.
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Suddenly, the kiss stops, but his mouth is still against Nick's. What the fuck do you mean you 'know what's there'?
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And Nick's hand, arm curled around to pet carefully at his hair.
I swear to you...
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My bed is gonna fall apart, you know that?
And a hand trails down Nick's chest, abs, hips...
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His own hands wander, sliding along the planes of Michael's back, across scars and marks, lingering with care over each one, touch light and almost teasing except that it never leaves the skin.
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He loves the feel of Nick's hands on his skin, touching his back. Considering it was Nick who introduced all of the nice, lingering touching as 'good things', he especially loves it when it's Nick doing the touching. Please, keep doing that. While he continues to hold the kiss.
He'd ask if Nick wanted company, but that's not fair to David, so, he doesn't ask.
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One hand continues while the other moves to his face, tracing the line of the scar there with his thumb carefully, gently. His eyes are still glowing faintly, his lips curved in a gently smile for the few moments they're pulled away from Michael's before he cups the other man's cheek in his palm to kiss him again.
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He doesn't move his head as Nick's thumb traces the long scar on his face. He catches the faintest hints of the glowing eyes, but doesn't pay them much attention, he just lets himself be drawn into the kiss.
He could stay here, all night, but he knows that won't happen either. He knows Nick will go and he'll be left here, alone, in this room, with his broken bed and the hole in the wall. Maybe he will curl up and sleep on the floor tonight.
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Because he loves David. Because David is his other half. Because David is the completion to his soul...but he cares about Michael deeply...and he wishes he could take that pain away from him. Wishes he could take the loneliness away for another night.
And he projects now. It's not calm or peace. It's just love...because he knows that Michael doesn't realize simple truths sometimes, and the fact that he is loved is one of those truths.
A few more minutes. I drank from you so...I can skip a meal this time. Just...
And he doesn't tell him; he just kisses him again, hot and slow and deep and soft and with more feeling than Michael probably realizes he has for him.
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Nick, stop. He wants Nick to stop throwing emotions at him... or, thinks he does.
I'm sorry, Nick.
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And he doesn't pull away, doesn't stop kissing, doesn't stop projecting because while he always gives people what they want, sometimes he gives them what they need...
And let's his heart take the scars for the consequences.
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