thewidewideworld | The things we do out of grief

{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?"

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From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric doesn't quite have Jay's masochistic issues. The rumble sends a jolt of fear through him more then pleasure but he doesn't try to pull away. Between the cold teasing hand and that little bit of Eric's blood, he isn't sure what he feels, only that it's powerful.

From:

onceaviking

Eric licks Sinric's neck thoroughly and lets go of him.
He wipes. His own mouth with the back of his hand.
It comes away bloody. Always a messy eater.

And curious to see what the little tweety bird will do now.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric leans forward, bracing his hands on his knees to keep from falling. He is very small and very susceptible to the effects of blood loss.

He glances back over his shoulder, pulling his fallen tunic up over his breast. His expression is that of a shamed whore or slighted girl, abashed and flushed.

From:

onceaviking

"Shh ," Eric says, soothingly. The way he would if Sinric had been a young girl.

Running a cool finger down the side of his cheek.

From:

thewidewideworld

He turns his face into the touch, shuddering a little. "Would you like me to go, sir?"

From:

onceaviking

"I think you should sit down a little while first," Eric says, as he retracts his fangs with a loud click.

From:

thewidewideworld

"As you wish." He stays where he is, still spread over Eric's knee and tries to even out his breathing.

From:

onceaviking

"Was that so terrible?" Eric asks.

No sense in lying. He could smell it wasn't.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric shakes his head and lowers his eyes. He's usually better at flattering men, at telling them what they want to hear but he can't find the words.

From:

onceaviking

"You don't have to be afraid," Eric tells him.
"I am not going to hurt you."

Much, again, as he would tell a frightened young girl.

From:

thewidewideworld

"I don't believe you would, sir." He gets up carefully, re-lacing the neck of his tunic as he moves to sit so Eric no-longer has his back. "Not here, at least."

From:

onceaviking

"Not here," Eric agrees, adjusting himself carelessly before folding his arms in front of him.

From:

thewidewideworld

Sinric sees the gesture and lowers his eyes. "Did you require me to service you, sir?" He asks, half expecting to be ordered to his knees.

From:

onceaviking

"Contrary to popular belief," Eric says, "that part isn't terribly important anymore. But I should like to be able to drink from you again."

He means it. You can tell.

From:

thewidewideworld

The rejection, or rather lack of orders, throws Sinric a little; throwing him out of the servile withdrawal into himself. "Why? Do I taste- am I so different from others?"

From:

onceaviking

Eric looks at him, his face cool and still in the moonlight.

"You, like Athelstan, taste the way people used to taste, back when I was turned. Your blood is sweet. And, of course, yours is sweeter still. Because of what you are."

From:

thewidewideworld

He blushes and hides his face a little behind his hair. "Because of what I am." He repeats softly.

From:

onceaviking

"Men taste different from women," Eric tells him. "And you taste like neither."

His upper lip twitches. Just a little.

From:

thewidewideworld

"I am neither one thing nor the other." He breathes softly, reaching up to touch the blood drying on his neck. "I should wash, before I go in. Lest someone fear I have been hurt."