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eric northman

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{from here}

To the east of the garden, hidden between the trees is what looks from the outside like small and simple marquee.

But inside it is something very different. Large as any room inside the bar, the floor is covered with richly patterned carpets, as soft underfoot as grass. The walls are draped with the finest silks. Silver lanterns hung from the roof cast geometric patterns from their cut work sides, coloured rainbow hues by glass inserts.

At the room's centre is a raised dais spread with silks and furs, cushions and bolsters; a bed worthy of a king.

Sinric waits by the door, dressed in a flowing silk robe of rich gold and scarlet, his hair elaborately braided away from his neck and a mask of lace covering his eyes.

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Eric walks inside - and suppresses a sigh at the display.
Opulent and soft and gilded.

It reminds him - briefly - of Edgington's lover, the ill-fared Talbot. He pushes that high away and pulls off his t-shirt as steps to the middle of the room.

He looks like a statue, all firm muscles and pale, white surfaces.

It reminds Sinric of home, of the court of which he is a part of.

He doesn't move at first, as much a statue himself as Eric. Even behind the lace, the time to prepare and the setting have helped him to pull his own fallen mask back up.

When he does move, it is with a self-possessed grace, aware of the beautiful lines of his body. He moves to the end of the bed, watching Eric from behind the web of lace.

"You don't have to try that hard on my account," Eric says, as he toes off his boots before sitting down on the bed.

Sinric pushes back the lace mask, sliding it up into his hair.

"The show isn't entirely for you." He answers, perhaps a little sharply. "I have not offered you my blood as an act of kindness but out of need for connection, however brief."

Eric look at him. Amused.
"The little birdie has claws," he says. "That's good. Come here."

And he pats the bed next to him.

Sinric lets the mask fall with artful grace as he crosses to the bed. "Even fallen from the nest, a bird will try to fly."

The robe's opening reveals lean dancer's legs, just as smooth as his cheeks. He crossed shapely ankles as he sits.

Eric reaches over and takes gently hold of Sinric's chin with just two fingers.
Then he leans in and kisses him.

His lips are cold and smooth and dry. Just as cold and smooth and dry as his fingers.
He closes his eyes as their lips meet, focusing on the warmth and the exquisite thinness of the skin of Sinric's lips.

He's a good kisser.

There's a moment of stillness before Sinric returns the kiss, needing to remind himself this was his choice and borne of his need to be touched and wanted.

His lips are warm, growing hot as he opens himself to the kiss with passion. He's no slouch when it comes to kissing either.

Edited 2015-09-30 12:10 (UTC)

And Eric slides his huge, cold hand around to cup the back of his head.
Gently.
For now at least.

He feels like a human man, if colder and firmer. And he kisses like a man.

Sinric kisses more like a woman - soft and high and panting. His body is small and light under Eric's touch.

He lets Eric lead for now, needing to be wanted.

Eric leans close and runs a hand down Sinric's front.
"Lie down," he murmurs.

He wants to let his fangs down.
They ache.

Sinric arches into the touch, nipples hardening. He moves up on to the bed and lays himself out, the robe falling flatteringly around the swell of his small breasts and curves of his thighs.

Eric towers over him, briefly, as he lets his fangs down.
Then he puts a hand on either side of Sinric so he can dip his head and kiss him again.

This time with fangs.

The click sent a shiver of fear through Sinric, his whole body stiffening momentarily. It takes the depth and heat of the kiss to soften him again. He rests his hands lightly on Eric's, stoking his cold wrists.

He likes that small shiver and rewards it with a hungry purr, as he moves his mouth from Sinric's lips and down to the soft, hot skin just below his ear.

The purr makes Sinric shiver in a different way, partially aroused but still a little frightened. Unlike Jay, the knowledge he's doing something dangerous isn't utterly subsumed by pleasure.

He strokes up Eric's strong arms, needing contact, needing touch. More than just the cold lips on his skin. He lifts one knee, stroking it down the inside of Eric's thigh.

Eric slides the fingers of his left hand into Sinric's hair, tipping his head back a little as he does so.

He also lowers himself in a slow, grinding motion, still keeping the most of his weight off of Sinric.

Sinric tilts his head up obligingly, breathing a soft moan as Eric presses against him. He tugs at the sleeve of his robe, managing to pull it off the shoulder Eric is kisses to expose more skin and the upper curve of a breast.

Eric licks his skim, right where he wants to bite him, as he skims his hand down the newly exposed skin.

It's a light touch.

"Humans," he whispers in Sinric's ear, "cannot want you the way I do."

Sinric sighs warmly, his skin tingling where Eric's caresses him.

He wants those cold hands on his breasts, wants to feel his nipples tighten but he can't find the words, not to match the way Eric is speaking.

Eric slides his hands down his front again, with a firmer touch this time.
Grinding against him.

Letting the tips of his fangs rest against his skin.

Sinric can feel the hard little points of Eric's fangs against his skin, hard and sharp as needles. He dare not pull away but nor does he feel compelled to push against them.

He presses into Eric's hand, arching up to matches the rhythm of Eric's grind. He spreads his legs a little wider, silently begging for more.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Eric murmurs, mouth close to Sinric's ear.

The abruptness of the question catches Sinric off guard for a moment. He looks up at him with his large brown doe eyes.

"Yes." He whispers after a moment. "But not from behind."

"I'll bite you as I do it," Eric informs him as he sits back to open his jeans.
"And you seem flexible enough to stay on your back. I will just have to be a little more - careful, that's all."

Which is annoying, but blood.

He is hard.