The things we do out of grief

[thewidewideworld]

{from here}

Sinric leads Eric out to the garden, both beautiful and eerie in the moonlight. Just as Eric is.

He walks to a spot in the edge of the tree line, not quite where he saw Eric and Athelstan but quite near. "How-" He cuts himself off and tries again. "What would you have of me?"

Comments

[onceaviking]

"It is by far the easiest if I bite your neck," Eric says, his face pale and cold in the moonlight.

And by far the most intimate.


"But -" he nods down at Sinric's bleeding hand, "we should deal with that first."

[thewidewideworld]

He nods, that little shiver returning. He lets go of the bunched linen and holds out his wounded palm.

[onceaviking]

Eric takes his hand and holds it up.
His own is huge and cold, but the grip as such is gentle enough.

He drops fang and bites down on his own thumb on his free hand. And then he strokes his bleeding (and rapidly healing thumb) across the wound on Sinric's palm.

[thewidewideworld]

He jumps at the click of Eric's fangs but doesn't pull away. Eyes wide like the deer before the hunter.

The feeling of healing flesh is strange. Like a cold that spreads till it becomes warmth again.

[onceaviking]

"There we go," Eric says.
"Now, move your hair aside."

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric doesn't balk, as much as his rabbit heart wishes to.

But he bends his head and sweeps back his hair, plucking too at the laces that hold closed the neck of his tunic. He lower the linen from one shoulder, revealing the upper curve of a small soft breast, like that of a young woman.

[onceaviking]

Eric takes hold of his jaw with cold, strong fingers, and turns his head a little.

Then he bends his head, touching Sinric's warm skin with just as cold lips.

The rapid pulse is almost too tempting. Too appetizing.

[thewidewideworld]

The touch on his jaw makes him jerk; his heart racing and his scent flooded with fear. More than is proportionate to Eric's touch.

With the panic of old trauma rising in him, Sinric fights to keep it down, breathing evenly but fast.

He must feel like the perfect prey to Eric's predator's senses.

[onceaviking]

So, so perfect.

"Relax," Eric half-whispers, close to Sinric's ear.

And then he bites down, tightening his grip just enough to make sure that nobody pulls away in a panic, causing major damage anywhere.

[thewidewideworld]

Relaxing is not possible for Sinric right now. The panic in his heart caused by the trigger of being held so makes his blood flow fast. The strange pleasure of the bite is lost and confused by the memories of violence. He doesn't thrash but clings to Eric, half to keep from falling and half to push him away.

But Eric's grip is powerful.

[onceaviking]

Eric strokes his thumb across Sinric's cheekbone.
Soothingly.


His mouth pulling on Sinric's neck.

[thewidewideworld]

The stroking does little to soothe him but the war of pleasure and pain, of control and panic still rages.

His fast breathing makes the blood bright red and fat with oxygen as it flows to Eric's lips.

[onceaviking]

Eric licks his skin - and reluctantly bites down on his own tongue as well.
His cool blood mixes with Sinric's warm flow and his skin begins to knit.

[thewidewideworld]

In his small struggles, the neck of his tunic has fallen from his shoulder, revealing one small but distinctly feminine breast, the nipple dusky against his pale skin.

[onceaviking]

Eric runs his hand from Sinric's face and down his shoulder.
His thumb briefly follows the upper swell of Sinric's small breast.

[thewidewideworld]

The shiver that goes through him is unmistakablu pleasure, his large nipple hardening.

[onceaviking]

Eric hums against his skin and repeats the motion. Slower this time.

[thewidewideworld]

He gasps softly, his heart still racing but no longer with fear. Or at least, not only with fear. He lifts his shoulders ever so slightly, subconsciously inviting more. Or at least submitting to more.

[onceaviking]

Eric slowly circles his nipple with a cool fingers as he mouths the shin on his neck.

He still won't be able to drink deeply.
But he might be able to ensure that there will be a second time.

[thewidewideworld]

His breathing quickens, turning his face away a little to hide the flush across his cheeks. Partly of want and partly of shame for desiring to submit to this man.

[onceaviking]

"There, there,", Eric says, soothingly, in Sinric's own tongue.
"I won't hurt you."

[thewidewideworld]

He looks up in surprise as Eric speaks to him in Greek. His dark eyes shine, caught between running and wanting.

Eric may need to make the decision for him.

[onceaviking]

Eric briefly moves his mouth away from Sinric's neck and gives him a light kiss instead.
His lips are still bloody, painted with Sinric's blood and perhaps still a drop or two of his own.

[thewidewideworld]

Sinric opens himself to the kiss with a sweet little gasp, tasting the iron tang of their blood.

He moans softly, the blood quickening strangely in him. He feels his own desire quicken, drawn to Eric, opening to him.

[onceaviking]

Eric deepens the kiss, just a little.
Keep him wanting.

His lips are cool and smooth.
And his fangs are still down.