[Tethers] Hour of Need

[dracoqueen22]

Title: Hour of Need
Universe: Tethers
Characters: Sinoun/Easton
Enticements: Sexual Content, Dom/Sub Themes, Vampirism
Rating: M
Description: Sinoun keeps careful watch over this motley crew he’s assembled, so when one of them starts stumbling, he takes it upon himself to make sure their dhampir is very well fed. (companion piece to A Done Deal)

Their dhampir does not look well.

Of course, it would help if their dhampir would actually tell the rest of the party that he is, in fact, a dhampir, and occasionally needs blood to keep himself in tip-top shape. Why he’s kept this secret, Sinoun doesn’t know.

No one in this group is in any position to judge. Or perhaps Easton believes Celeste and Tyrael will immediately turn on him. Sinoun supposes the possibility exists, at least in Tyrael’s case. Bit of a stickler, that one, despite the less than stellar reputation of his patron deity.

Still.

It has affected Easton’s performance and this, Sinoun cannot abide. He has plans. Their party has a quest. They do not need their dhampir misleading them, or missing the mark during battle, or dragging his feet because he hasn’t the energy to keep going.

This is a problem which needs solving, and as is becoming his habit, Sinoun has taken it upon himself to do so. Honestly, would this group get anything done without him?

Sinoun has a plan.

He’s patient during their raucous drinking session in the tavern, and he watches. For once, Sinoun leaves Tyrael be, no matter how adorably their paladin flushes, and how awkwardly he tries to simultaneously dissuade and encourage Sinoun’s advances.

Sinoun has different prey tonight.

One by one, the members of the unnamed party of adventurers retire to their rooms, shared and separate. They are rich in coin at the moment, and they don’t share if they don’t have to. Lutherk is large enough the local inn has room to spare.

Dakota is the last to stumble upstairs, thoroughly inebriated, but with practice enough to manage his intoxication and make it to the room he shares with Tempest. Family is as family does, even if that family is a mostly-orc and a halfling.

Sinoun’s seen stranger.

Sinoun finishes his ale, flicks a gold onto the table for the server’s trouble, and slinks upstairs. His room is at the top of the stairs, but he waits with a hand on the knob, extending his magic, sending tendrils of it up the hall.

Two doors down, Easton’s in his room. The weight of his hunger hangs around him like a bad smell. He’ll be seeking an outlet tonight, Sinoun is sure of it.

He marks Easton and slips into his own room.

Sinoun undresses, shedding layer after layer, and pulls on a thin robe, belting it at the waist. The sheer fabric feels magnificent against his bare skin. He pulls his hair into a loose bun, and checks his appearance in the mirror.

The day of hard riding has left him with more wrinkles and smears of dirt than he finds acceptable. A snap of his fingers removes the imperfections, leaving his brown skin flawless. His hair is an artful, scarlet bun, his gray eyes are lined with kohl, and his lips are brushed with rouge.

In short, he’s perfectly fuckable.

Sinoun smirks.

He briefly taps into the mark he left on Easton just in case, but it has yet to move. Easton may be the stealthiest of them, but there is no hiding from the web of magic Sinoun spread through the hall.

Sinoun pulls supplies from his bag, conjures a few others, and places them on the only other piece of furniture in the room -- a small bedside table. The small vial of lubricant holds a position of pride, and Sinoun grins as he gives it a tap with his finger.

All that’s left is to wait.

An hour passes. Two.

He meditates, or the something close to it, half his attention on the tiny thread marking Easton, the rest floating elsewhere, in another dimension.

There’s no sound, but his magic twitches. It sends a shiver to the base of his skull. Sinoun grins, heat spreading in a fine wave through his body, an eager pulse making his cock twitch.

Now, now. Not just yet.

He rises, artfully tugs the folds of his robe open just so, and waits at the door, one hand on the knob. He tracks the footsteps, stealthily slipping past door after door -- agonizingly slow in front of the room Rathi and Celeste share, as Rathi is the most perceptive of their group.

Easton starts again, Sinoun counting his footsteps, tracking each one with little twangs of motion along the magical web.

Easton tiptoes past his door and Sinoun whips it open, snatching a handful of the pale green tunic. He yanks the startled dhampir into his room and slams the door shut by throwing Easton against it, pinning him in place with a single hand on Easton’s chest.

Wide amber-red eyes stare back at him, lips peeling back into a snarl.

“Hello, lovely,” Sinoun says as Easton’s hunger rises around him like a physical cloak. He reeks of desperation. “Just where do you think you’re sneaking off to, hm? Surely there’s no better meal in that forest than you can find right here?” He tilts his head to show the graceful curve of his throat.

Easton’s gaze flicks to it, hunger flashing in his eyes. He swallows, throat bobbing. “That didn’t go so well for us last time, if you recall,” he says, but he stays focused on Sinoun’s throat. His heart is a rapid patter beneath Sinoun’s fingertips.

“Mistakes were made, I can agree, but I think we both know better this time, don’t you?” Sinoun drags the knuckles of his free hand down the side of Easton’s face, pale skin reddening beneath his touch.

“Fuck you,” Easton growls, despite the flush to his skin, the tremble in his body, the hunger flashing in his eyes.

Sinoun laughs. “Oh, I intend to.” He slams Easton into the door, which rattles ominously, and seals their mouths together, cutting his upper lip on Easton’s fangs, his tongue plunging into the dhampir’s mouth.

Easton makes a muffled noise, but he opens for Sinoun, greedily giving in to the kiss, and the smell of arousal gets spicy-sweet around him. His words might be a protest, but his body is desperate and eager, pushing against Sinoun’s hold to try and pull him closer. Sinoun’s cut lip bleeds a tiny pearl on Easton’s tongue, and the dhampir whines.

Yes. It will be much more satisfying this way.

Sinoun gets a handful of long hair, soft and pale as undyed silk. He jerks on it, and Easton whimpers, going limp in his grasp.

“Now,” Sinoun says as he licks his lips, tasting his own blood on them, the sparkle of it painting Easton’s mouth. “Shall we try again?”

Easton bares his teeth, but he’s breathing heavy, and there’s no mistaking the swell of his arousal against Sinoun’s thigh.

“I don’t need you,” Easton grits out, his eyes dark and lidded, his hands fisted in the shimmery fabric of Sinoun’s robe.

His actions, however, belie his words. He’s a skilled enough fighter he could worm his way out of Sinoun’s grasp. But his nostrils flare as he breathes in, perhaps catching Sinoun’s scent, and the hunger in his eyes gives him away.

“Need and want are two different things, lovely.” Sinoun tugs, ever so slowly, pulling on Easton’s scalp.

Easton whimpers, and a thrill climbs up Sinoun’s spine. He nudges a knee between Easton’s legs, presses up, and grinds against Easton’s rapidly hardening length. “And you want very much, don’t you?”

“Fuck you,” Easton hisses, but his tongue flicks over his lips, sweeping up the lingering drop of Sinoun’s blood.

Sinoun chuckles. “All in due time.” With a fistful of white hair, and a hand on Easton’s shoulder, he forces the dhampir to his knees.

Surprise flickers in Easton’s eyes – mortals are always surprised at how strong Sinoun truly is -- and his knees hit the floor with quiet thumps. Sinoun’s robe falls open, his cock poking into view, but it’s his left, inner thigh he directs Easton toward.

“There’s a thick vein here,” Sinoun murmurs, careful to make his tone warm and silken. If there’s a bit of a song to it, well, no one has to know. Easton may be resistant, but he’s not immune.

He has to take what he needs, and that’s all there is to it.

“Go on,” Sinoun says. “Give it a lick.”

Easton’s glare is murderous, and for a moment, Sinoun thinks there’s a possibility Easton may indeed truly loathe him. But the anger flickers and flashes into embarrassment.

He wants this. He simply doesn’t want to admit it.

Sinoun uses his hold on Easton’s hair to push his mouth closer to Sinoun’s bare thigh. “Drink,” Sinoun growls, hitting a deeper, more resonant bass.

He knows he’s hit the right note when Easton shudders, his exhales hot and humid against Sinoun’s skin. His eyes darken, the amber-red near his iris expanding outward. His tongue extends and rasps over Sinoun’s skin. He moans, soft and low, and grabs Sinoun’s knee, licking again.

“That’s right,” Sinoun purrs, his cock twitching at Easton’s subservience, at the creature of sheer need and instinct he’s become. He’s bewitching like this, and Sinoun can’t wait to take him to bed.

But first, Easton must feed, else he’s liable to collapse before Sinoun is done with him.

“Drink,” Sinoun says, and maybe he puts an echo of command into his voice. He’ll apologize for it later. Or he won’t. It depends on how Easton reacts.

Given that the dhampir shudders and moans against Sinoun’s thigh like Sinoun’s gone and stroked his cock, he’s thinking an apology won’t be necessary. Because Easton nuzzles his skin, his teeth scraping a tentative line, and then he bites.

Sinoun twitches.

It hurts, of course it hurts. Getting bitten without the flush of sex to dull it isn’t a pleasant thing, but the pain is fleeting and heat-pleasure floods out afterward. He strokes Easton’s hair approvingly, and gives his own cock a few healthy strokes, while Easton takes the first, long pull.

It’s an odd sensation, to have a vampire feed from him. Easton is not the first, only the most current, and Sinoun has always secretly delighted in what his blood does to the feeders. It’s like a fine wine or an aged whiskey, strong and potent, making them eager and pliable, and such a joy to play with afterward.

Easton, however, moans with such a hungry, eager sound, all thoughts of discomfort burn away. Sinoun cards his fingers through Easton’s hair, encouraging with little nudges of his magic, and the sounds Easton makes go straight to Sinoun’s cock. Pre-come seeps from his slit, easing his strokes.

“Only enough to keep you awake for what comes next, lovely,” Sinoun murmurs as Easton sucks again, and Sinoun’s knees wobble. He can lose more blood than the average mortal and still be fine, but he has no interest in being sucked dry by a starving feeder.

Easton’s hands curve on his hips, strong enough to leave bruises. Sinoun will relish them for as long as they linger, considering it proof of his mastery.

A low moan rises out of Easton’s throat. He sucks at the bite, his tongue prodding the wound as though trying to palpate it for more blood, his eyelids fluttering. Color returns to his cheeks, and the moan starts to turn to a growl.

“Ah-ah-ah.” Sinoun twists his fingers in Easton’s hair and gives it a sharp tug. “That’s enough.”

Easton breaks off and snarls up at him, Sinoun’s blood painting his lips, his eyes wide and dilated. He looks positively feral, and a thrill dances up Sinoun’s spine. His fingers dig into Sinoun’s skin, trying to pull himself back toward Sinoun’s thigh.

No, sir.

Sinoun hauls Easton up with a twist of his wrist, slamming him against the door hard enough to make it rattle.

“That’s enough,” Sinoun growls, pinning Easton with his weight and his grip, fingers tangled in white hair, and one hand firm on Easton’s chest. “We have other things we can be doing to pass the time.”

Easton licks his lips as if trying to savor every last drop. “That wasn’t the deal,” he snarls, trying in vain to push off the door.

Sinoun doesn’t budge. “We made no deal, if you recall.” He tightens his grip on Easton’s hair, enough to hurt he’s certain, but Easton’s eyelids flutter. He bucks up against Sinoun as if he’s desperate for stimulation.

Well. It’s good to know he was right.

Sinoun grabs Easton’s cock with his free hand, and gives it a squeeze. The sound Easton makes is as hungry as his thirst for blood. He snatches at Sinoun’s side, fingers digging against his ribs.

“This says we are definitely not done,” Sinoun says with another squeeze, his palm now sticky with Easton’s precome.

Easton’s lips peel back over his teeth, hips thrusting forward in unconscious want. He sucks in harsh, heavy breaths, nostrils flared, but his cock throbs, spilling more pre-come.

“That’s better,” Sinoun murmurs.

Easton’s eyes flash amber-red at him. “Fuck you!” he snaps, and starts to twist in Sinoun’s grip, bucking away from the door.

Why must he be so contrary?

Sinoun seizes Easton by the hips, lifting him and slamming him against the door with a loud rattle. He notches himself between the dhampir’s thighs, thrusting his cock against Easton’s.

They both still, heat against heat, slick against slick, and Easton’s eyes are wide but not panicked. There’s heat in them, pooling against the hunger. He growls like a caged beast, and Sinoun growls back, deeper and more primal, back to the birth of his kind, in the primordial magics that form Sistaria.

“You struggle, and you bitch, and you curse at me, but you don’t say the one thing that would end this,” Sinoun says as he ruts against Easton, grinding their dicks together. “Tell me why that is.”

Easton hisses through his teeth, thighs clamping around Sinoun’s hips, his fingers digging into Sinoun’s shoulders with bruising intensity. “Shut up,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut.

Sinoun holds Easton up with one hand, and grips Easton’s chin, forcing the dhampir to look at him. “Absolutely not. If you want something, I intend to make you ask for it.” He rolls his hips, slow and sure, a mimicry of what he intends to do later, if only Easton would do him the favor of cooperating.

“Then let me drink,” Easton says.

Sinoun laughs and drags his thumb over Easton’s bottom lip, the pad of it slipping inside, rubbing over his blunter bottom teeth. Dhampir’s only have fangs on the top row, the poor things, unlike their full-blooded kin. Unlike Sinoun, who is kin, but only so distantly as to be a more brilliant reflection.

He doesn’t feed on blood after all.

“You haven’t earned more,” Sinoun says. “Be honest with me, lovely.” He tips Easton’s head up and licks a fluttering pulse point. Easton shivers. “You want me to pin you down and fuck you, yes? You want me to make you take it.”

A whimper rises in Easton’s throat, a pretty flush of pink spreading over his pale face. “Yes,” he says, barely louder than a whisper. He closes his eyes, throat bobbing in a thick swallow. “Just fucking do it.”

Sinoun thumbs Easton’s bottom lip again. “Good boy,” he murmurs. “I think that deserves a reward, don’t you?”

Easton growls against his thumb, but it shifts to a yelp when Sinoun pulls him away from the door. Long legs wrap around Sinoun’s waist as Easton clings to his shoulders, their dicks grinding together with every step Sinoun takes, until he’s at the bed and dumps Easton onto the surface.

It’s much cleaner and plush than this inn provides, and maybe it’s a waste of his magic, but Sinoun demands comfort for sleep. It’s one of his many absolute indulgences -- a soft mattress, softer sheets, a plush blanket, and most of all, clean.

“There now,” Sinoun says as Easton sprawls beneath him, hair half-loose from the braid. “That’s much better.”

“Fuck you,” Easton mutters, but its half-hearted at best, the flush to his cheeks and the tips of his ears speaking more truth.

Sinoun chuckles and climbs over the dhampir, stealing Easton’s mouth for a deep kiss, tasting himself on Easton’s tongue. He strips Easton out of his clothes in between bites and kisses, laughing quietly as Easton wriggles around to help him -- half sulking about it.

“You must protest just to be stubborn,” Sinoun says as he pinches a nipple, Easton’s back arching as he moans.

“Shut up,” Easton snaps, and then Sinoun has Easton’s thighs splayed wide with Sinoun between them, his cock flushed and dripping and begging to be touched.

Sinoun obliges, wrapping his fingers around the velvet heat, stroking Easton and making him choke on another rude comment.

“I think you like being contrary.” Sinoun thumbs the head of Easton’s cock, rubbing around the slit. “I’m guessing you like to be punished, too. Shall I turn you over my knee?”

Easton shudders as if trying to fight the urge to come, his cock throbbing. He moans and twists onto his side, thrashing on the bed in another halfhearted effort to free himself.

He’s lucky he’s so damn fun to play with, otherwise Sinoun would feel quite put out (and more than a little offended) by now.

Sinoun would let the dhampir flee if he thought that was what Easton wanted, but his struggles seem token, and he’s made no actual attempts to attack Sinoun or defend himself, like Sinoun knows he is capable. He squirms beneath Sinoun, but never usefully, and it’s easy enough for Sinoun to grab his wrists and slam them into the mattress to either side of Easton’s head.

He blankets Easton’s body with his, firmly planted between Easton’s thighs, his bodyweight bearing down on the dhampir’s. Sinoun leans close, and the firmness of Easton’s cock pokes him in the abdomen, the head soaked with precome. He’s panting, face fully flushed pink, amber-red eyes wide and the scent of his arousal thick in the air.

“Why do you struggle when it’s clear you want this?” Sinoun demands, squeezing until he feels Easton’s wrists give, surprisingly delicate for all that his weapon of choice is a longbow.

Everything about Easton is silk wrapped in steel.

Easton glares at him, lips pressed shut, his eyes glittering with an emotion he isn’t sharing. His fingers have curled into fists, his breath coming in sharp pants, sweat painted across his skin. He stops struggling, as though all Sinoun had to do was offer a show of strength to get him to yield.

He leans in, nearly nose to nose with Easton, and stares him right in his pretty eyes. “Tell me, lovely, or I swear I’ll leave you here like this, half-sated and desperate for it.” He rolls his hips, rocking against Easton in a slow, firm rut.

Easton groans, long and low, like he’s surrendering, and Sinoun’s mouth waters. He kisses Easton, soft at first, then harder, firmer, like he’s making a claim. He bites Easton’s bottom lip, hard enough to get a taste of Easton’s own blood -- sharp, acrid, not foul, but tart like an unripe berry.

“Say it,” Sinoun demands, and Easton shudders, the tension of his body abruptly yielding to Sinoun and sinking into the cradle of the mattress.

“Fuck me,” he says and he thrusts up against Sinoun, head tipping back to bear his throat.

Ah, there’re few things sweeter than submission and victory, wrapped into a package as pretty and troublesome as Easton.

Still.

Easton hasn’t made this easy, and Sinoun intends to punish him for it. He hides his face in Easton’s throat, lips pressed to the frantic flutter of his pulse. “What was that? I don’t think I heard you.”

Easton growls, “I want you to fuck me, damn it! Stop playing games!”

Sinoun smirks. “There now. Was that so hard?” He squeezes Easton’s wrists before letting them go where they remain in place.

Such a good boy he is.

Sinoun strips slowly out of his robe, because impatience marks itself in Easton’s face.

“Hurry it up,” Easton tries to hiss, but Sinoun squeezes him, smothers his urgency with a kiss, and Easton’s mouth opens, relenting. He moans as Sinoun grips his jaw, holding him place for the devouring kiss, and his thighs scrub restlessly against the outside of Sinoun’s legs.

“Patience,” Sinoun says against his lips, better a command, and turns to grab the bottle of lubricant. He scoots down, leaves biting kisses in his wake, and liberally drizzles his fingers with the oil.

“You’re taking too long,” Easton says, thighs parting with an eagerness he’d probably deny.

Sinoun drags an oil-slick finger up the length of Easton’s cock, grinning as Easton’s back arches. “Am I?” he asks, and dips his fingers between Easton’s cheeks, stroking two over the wrinkled rim before easing one inside.

Easton’s tight, which is to be expected. The group has not been anywhere for them to take their pleasures, and Easton especially isn’t the sort to seek out a palace of pleasure at a moment’s notice.

“I can take more,” Easton says as his heels dig into the bed. He tries to rock down on Sinoun’s finger, but makes no move to touch his own cock.

So well-behaved now. Sinoun approves.

“You’ll take what I give you.” Sinoun presses a kiss to Easton’s belly and nuzzles the little trail of hair leading downward. “And only that.”

Sinoun is a generous creature, however, and he slips another finger into Easton, enjoying the sharp intake of breath, the curve of Easton’s spine, the way his belly jumps beneath Sinoun’s lips. He clenches down on Sinoun’s fingers, and smirking, Sinoun pushes them deeper, and curves them just right so that--

“Fuck!”

Easton bucks and squirms, his cock dribbling. Sinoun grins and mouths the head, tasting Easton’s pre-come and the heat of him. Easton goes limp, sinking into the bed, sucking air through his teeth. Sweat paints his skin, and Sinoun pushes him to the edge before he backs off, letting Easton fall from his mouth.

A watery glare tries to find him. “You’re insufferable,” Easton says.

Sinoun laughs. “I consider that a compliment.” He adds a third finger though he doubts Easton needs it, simply because he enjoys watching the dhampir squirm. He wonders if he can push Easton into misbehaving again.

He slides his thumb up, sweeping pressure along the base of Easton’s cock, right along the seam of his ballsack, and grins when Easton’s eyes flash, and he jerks, squeezing down hard on Sinoun’s fingers.

“Please,” Easton moans, and it’s so genuine, so full of need, Sinoun is a little awestruck.

“Oh, lovely, you know the right thing to say.” Sinoun slathers his dick with oil and sits back on his heels, admiring the lazy sprawl of Easton on the bed.

Or well, perhaps lazy is the wrong word, because there’s a tension in the dhampir which had been gone up until a few seconds ago. Easton eyes Sinoun’s cock as though it’s about to grow teeth and bite him, and he sucks on his bottom lip, worrying it with enough force Sinoun wonders if he’s tasting his own blood.

Given Easton’s dragging reluctance to give in to the submission he obviously desires, Sinoun’s not surprised.

He leans over Easton and kisses him, soft and slow, swallowing the surprised sound the dhampir makes. He drags his palms over Easton’s chest, sliding them along pale skin -- resisting the urge to leave marks this time around -- until he cups Easton’s hips in a firm hold.

When Sinoun slides back to his knees, he brings Easton with him, perching Easton in his lap, his cock nudging at Easton’s rim. Easton flails before his hands find Sinoun’s shoulders, fingers digging into the meat of him.

“This, I think, is better,” Sinoun says as he holds Easton’s right hip with one hand and cups the back of Easton’s neck with the other, keeping him in place for a deep kiss, hips rolling up and sliding the head of his cock along Easton’s cleft.

“Because you’re lazy?” Easton says, his tone a bit of a challenge, though a brief one. There’s a pretty flush across his cheeks, and he’s kneading at Sinoun’s shoulders, while his hips rock, trying to catch Sinoun’s cock and take it in.

Sinoun gives Easton’s hip a little pinch, watches the flush deepen, and he files that knowledge away.

“Because it’s about time you participated,” Sinoun says and holds Easton still, right where he needs to be, so Sinoun can slide into him with a bitten off groan.

Easton’s back arches. His fingers leave half-moon imprints on Sinoun’s skin.

“Faster,” Easton pants.

Sinoun squeezes the back of his neck. “You’re setting the pace,” he says. “Come on, lovely. I’m sure you know this dance.”

“Shut up,” Easton pants, but he turns liquid in Sinoun’s arms, hips rising and falling, working himself on Sinoun with a languid intensity that lights Sinoun’s nerves aflame.

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” Sinoun murmurs. He pulls Easton’s head back, dragging lips and teeth along his throat, his jaw, all the delicate parts of him. “You feel too good, and it’s not in my nature to keep that to myself.”

Easton squeezes down on him, and his cock splurts a little dribble where it rubs Sinoun’s belly, firm as a rock. He says nothing, but Sinoun feels the bob of a harsh swallow against his lips and sees the red flush as it creeps down Easton’s neck.

Precious, he thinks, is not an appropriate word to say aloud, but it’s the damn truth. For someone who fought so hard, that he just… yields like this goes high on the list of adorable traits.

Easton moves a little faster, grinds down, takes Sinoun deeper. His breathing comes in sharper bursts, and when Sinoun presses his lips to Easton’s ear, murmurs “such an obedient thing you are, look at you, so lovely in your pleasure” Easton makes a strangled noise and presses closer, like he’s trying to climb into Sinoun’s skin.

Sinoun nips his pulse, and steals his lips. Easton’s mouth opens to him, like he’s willing to let Sinoun do anything, if he keeps the pleasure coming. It’s a heady source of power, and Sinoun soaks it up, before he wraps a hand around Easton’s cock.

Easton shudders and bucks into the tunnel of his fist. His rhythm stutters before he finds it again, moving sharper and more intent, like he’s found that perfect angle, and he’s going to keep hammering at it.

“That’s it,” Sinoun croons, dragging his mouth along the curve of Easton’s jaw to his ear, and maybe he’s bad and uses a touch of magic, but who’s going to complain? “You’re so good. Come for me, lovely.”

A full body tremor wracks Easton’s body, his cock throbbing as he clenches down. He makes a truncated sound, half-moan, half-growl, and his fingers dig into Sinoun’s skin, leaving deep bruises behind.

He does obey, he’s become delightfully good at that, and the splash of his release paints Sinoun’s fingers. Sinoun pulls back to watch the pleasure-pain on Easton’s face, that point of ecstasy caught on a line between, and want grabs him by the belly.

He allows Easton a breath of calm before he tips the dhampir back onto the bed, flat on his back. He blankets Easton with his body between one beat and the next, hands scrabbling for a firm purchase on Easton’s hips as he thrusts, driving another deep, hungry sound from Easton’s throat.

Easton grabs at him, nails leaving raised lines down the length of Sinoun’s arms, as his legs wrap perfectly around Sinoun’s waist, arching up to meet him. Sweat paints his skin, and in the glow rising from Sinoun’s marks, it seems to shimmer.

Sinoun banishes the thought with a blink, and focuses on the here and now, the hot grasp of Easton’s body, the way he squirms and pulls at Sinoun, as if eager to please. He’s a flush of reds and pinks, his hair wild around his face, all of his chilly reserve gone, and well, it’s a vision better folk could probably resist, but not Sinoun.

He curls over Easton, grabs a handful of hair, and pulls him into a biting, fierce kiss, his hips moving in sharp thrusts as the pleasure crawls like lightning up and down his spine before bursting out of him. He comes, starbursts exploding behind his eyes, and the taste of Easton on his lips.

It’s a bit of a blur for a moment as Sinoun sips the pleasure like a fine wine, until he collapses on top of Easton like a puppet with cut strings. Easton, for once, doesn’t bitch about it, just sloppily pats at Sinoun’s skin and holds him close, their breathing and pulses out of sync.

The urge to lay there like a lump creeps up the back of Sinoun’s neck, but he’s a responsible lover. So he kisses Easton again -- gentler this time, like a little promise -- and withdraws, deftly escaping the unexpectedly clinging arms of his bedmate.

Sinoun doesn’t go far. He retrieves a washrag and dampens it from the washbasin, a little flick of his fingers turning the water clear and warm with a nice scent. He gives himself a quick wipedown first and then returns to Easton -- because he’s a generous and caring person and fuck anyone who thinks otherwise.

Easton watches him through slitted eyes, a bit wary, prey who’s trying to figure out if the predator is willing to let him go or not.

“You’re being nice,” he says. “Why?”

“I’m a nice person.” Sinoun gently wipes Easton clean of the mess he made.

Easton snorts. “That’s a fucking lie.” He flicks his tongue over his lips, watching Sinoun warily. “So what do you get out of it?”

“This time, I managed a decent orgasm.” Sinoun swipes the come from Easton’s belly and teasingly traces the trail of hair leading down. “What more do I need?”

Easton grabs his wrist and gives it a squeeze. “I might not know what you are, but I do know you’re not just some wizard.” He narrows his eyes. “What do you get out of it?”

Sinoun slips free of the grip with ease and rises to return the cloth to the basin. “I get what I need, same as you,” he says when he returns to the bed, and it’s his turn to grab Easton as the dhampir tries to roll off the bed.

He reels Easton into his arms, tucks himself around the sweaty, exertion-warm body, and presses his left wrist to Easton’s lips. “I know you’re not sated. Drink.”

“We hate wrists,” Easton says, stubborn, though his lips caress the offered flesh.

“We?” Sinoun echoes, and he rolls Easton until they are facing. He sweeps hair off his shoulder, baring it and the curve of his neck. “Do you count yourself among your kin?”

Easton glares. “You know what I meant,” he says, but he eyes Sinoun’s throat with hunger.

“Go on,” Sinoun says. “Drink.”

Something of Easton’s earlier submission must linger, because he obeys in the space between breaths. He licks Sinoun first, as if he has to taste his prey, and then he bites. Sinoun jerks when before that dull, pulling sensation starts up again.

There’s less urgency to it this time. Easton melts against him, purring. He’s languid and warm, eyes fluttering shut, arms tucked around Sinoun both to hold him in place and hold him, perhaps.

He makes a noise that’s entirely too adorable for words, like a newborn puppy, and Sinoun swallows a laugh before Easton takes offense at it. He waits, dragging his fingers through Easton’s tangled hair, weaving enough magic to ease the knotted snarls.

Easton manages a half-dozen long sucks and then he pulls back, licking the bite shut.

“Sated?” he asks.

“Shut up,” Easton mutters. His weight falls against Sinoun, like a limpid feline who has no intention of moving.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Should I also assume you’re in no hurry to move?”

“You’re talking too much.”

Sinoun snorts. “And yet, you were so determined to not need my help.”

Easton growls and pushes up, offering a watery glare. “You were pretty clear last time that I was a disappointment. I have more self-respect than to revisit that experience.”

“I may have judged a little hastily,” Sinoun concedes, though if Easton’s hunting for an apology, he’s not going to find it. “I think that’s a bit of both our faults. We didn’t understand what we wanted. Now, we do.”

“Is that so?” Easton arches an eyebrow and shifts, tilting his weight off Sinoun as if their proximity is suddenly too much intimacy for him to bear. “Dare I ask what it is I want, since you’re so sure of it?”

Sinoun grabs his chin, albeit gently, but firm enough to show he means business. When Easton doesn’t immediately jerk his head free, well, that’s answer enough.

“You fought with everything but your words,” Sinoun murmurs as he drags his thumb over Easton’s bottom lip, and waits for a protest that isn’t coming. “If you wanted me to bend you over, you should have said it from the beginning.”

Easton scowls. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

And yet, he doesn’t pull himself from Sinoun’s grip. He’s painfully transparent.

“Hm,” Sinoun says, and his lips curl into a smirk. “Have it your way. If you want me to make it seem like you don’t have a choice, I can do that.” He leans in close, his voice a warm whisper. “But we’ll both know otherwise, won’t we?”

Heat floods Easton’s cheeks. His gaze slides sideways. “You can’t be what I am, and want the things I do.”

“Oh trust me, lovely, I know all about the expectations others hold for us.” Sinoun grimaces before he can stop himself and then shakes it off, planting a bright smile on his face, his thumb stroking Easton’s bottom lip. “Well, if you ask me, this makes us friends.”

“Friends?” Easton can’t have sounded more shocked if he tried. “How low are your standards?”

Sinoun arches an eyebrow. “I can’t tell if you’re insulting yourself or slighting me.” He releases Easton’s jaw with a parting caress. “We’re a lot alike.”

“Now you’re the one insulting me,” Easton says with an offended sniff. He rolls over on his side, facing away from Sinoun -- but not off the mattress. He’s not so offended he’s going to leave the warm, comfortable bed apparently.

Gods, he’s entertaining.

Sinoun throws an arm over Easton and snuggles against his back -- though the dhampir is far too thin and lithe to have soft curves, his warmth will have to do. He buries a laugh in Easton’s hair, which smells of woodsmoke and treesap, and thanks to Sinoun, is no longer painfully tangled. Honestly, he gets so little thanks.

“Careful, lovely, if you protest any harder, I might actually think you like me,” Sinoun says.

“Shut up and get the lantern. And don’t pretend that means you’ll have to move. We both know it doesn’t,” Easton says.

“Bossy,” Sinoun says, but he lifts a hand and snaps his fingers, immediately dousing the lanterns and casting the room in shadows, not that it matters as both he and Easton can see in the dark.

“Come to me when you’re hungry. No more of this sneaking around and weakening yourself,” Sinoun says. “Don’t drag us down.”

Easton snatches a pillow and jams it under his head, his back tensing in shades of gray before it smooths out again. “I had a plan.”

“A stupid one.”

“No one asked you.”

“Then it’s a good thing I took it upon myself.” Sinoun curves against Easton’s back, turns an arm over his body, hooks his chin over a shoulder, nuzzling into the side of Easton’s throat. “Go to sleep. You can be indignant in the morning.”

Easton proves he is very much a stubborn arse by not responding to Sinoun, and instead offering a great big, absolutely fake, snore.

Sinoun huffs a quiet laugh and cuddles closer, soaking up Easton’s warmth, and letting himself indulge. They’ll never be anything more than this, but Sinoun can always use more friends, and he has his suspicions Easton could as well.

For now, this will do.

***