Turkey

[Existentially Odd]

Owen sucked in breath as Vincent rolled atop him, stunned by the swift manoeuvre but trusting his friend knew how this was done.  He shifted his legs to entertwine with Vincent's to accommodate his new position, also tilting his head to allow the vampire access to his throat.  He was embarrassed that the attention at his throat - which was surely some sort of kind warm-up so it didn't hurt - aroused him, because contact there always did, but he knew he was sleepy.  He had next to no inhibitions at such times.

He took a deep breath that shuddered through his body, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to tell himself that it was Vincent on top of him, but that didn't stop his groin from twitching and thickening, the pressure there delicious when accompanied by the heady licking and kissing at his throat.  He mewled, his hands coming up to wrap around Vincent's back, a foot hooking behind the vampire's knee as his hips pressed forwards instinctively.  Perhaps this was why the bite was so famously sexual; because the positioning was so intimate?  He licked his lips again and swallowed, his heart hammering desire through him.

[Trillian]

Vincent groaned as Owen thrust his hips upward and he responded to it by pressing his own hips in answering motions, so that their bodies were undulating in sexual symmetry with one another.  He wanted to bite, his fangs were practically aching to penetrate Owen's as yet unbroken flesh, but he still wanted so badly to kiss him, and doing so afterward, with the taint of blood on his lips, wouldn't be appropriate.  He did what came naturally, in this case, he left Owen's neck in order to pay attention to his mouth.

The kissing was hard and passionate and immediate.  He'd had to chase Owen's lips a little because of the turn of his head, but once he had them, he licked and suckled, venturing into Owen's mouth with his tongue.  At first there was no response, and a twitch of awareness throughout the youth's body.  It was just long enough for Vincent to open his eyes before Owen began to respond with the same gusto.  Vincent returned to his kissing and grinding, overwhelmed by Owen utterly and completely.  He'd been wanting for so long, and holding himself back, and it wasn't just Owen, but what he represented as well.  Partnership.  Equality.  True love.

He groaned again and released his frantic exploration of Owen's mouth in order to work his way to Owen's neck, to give the youth what he'd asked for.  More kisses, little nips, more thrusts, and one of his hands was on Owen's backside now, somehow shoving its way between the teen's buttocks and the mattress.  He was squeezing Owen's ass through the flimsy, smooth material, wishing they were naked.

And then, the bite.  It was sudden but gentle, and Owen's cry out only enhanced the experience.  There was pain in it, yes, but it was followed swiftly by pleasure.  He considered the bite a sexual thing because of that fact, too, one he hadn't shared with Owen, but didn't have to now, because Owen knew.  Owen knew because Vincent himself had done it to him.  As he drank, not needing the sustenance and therefore able to drink slowly, to appreciate every mouthful, he was starkly aware of his throbbing erection and the mirrored one pressing into him as they rubbed back and forth against each other.  How easy it would be fuck Owen now, to finally experience his body after a line of other men had the chance before him.  Unbidden, he thought of Owen writhing beneath them, making those sounds, or penetrating them, grunting with the effort of driving his cock home into their bodies.  He was insanely jealous over it, had done his best not to think about it, but was now filled with glee at the prospect of having that for himself.  Finally!  Finally!

[Existentially Odd]

The kiss had certainly given Owen pause, for it was Vincent kissing him.  As much as the vampire maintained taht he wasn't a father figure, had always treated the teenager as an equal, in Owen's head it had still never ben true.  He'd stopped talking about it, avoided the argument for the sake of peace, but in his heart he'd still been a boy with a mother and a father figure he'd longed to complete his family picture with.

That shattered the instant his 'father' stuck his tongue in his mouth.  It was a good thing, in all likelihood, but inside him that little boy was horrified by this turn of events and he dominated momentarily, the schism of his desires trumping grown up Owen's passion and causing him to flinch.

It faded, of course, because the situation was entirely too passionate for him to stop, the perfect combination of his throat being prepared expertly, coupled with the feeling of being pinned down in a manner that had always given him a secret thrill (for he'd been so dominant with his previous partners that it had only happened once) pushing him to a place of want so desperate it threatened his sanity.

The bite pushed him over the edge.  The little boy was still quailing somewhere inside him that it was Vincent pressed against him and ohmygod, he was hard like he was about to have sex with him, but it was a tiny voice lost in the pounding of blood in his ears, the turgid need in his groin, the exultant yet inadequate feeling of being penetrated by fangs instead of a cock.

Instinct drove him to push a hand between them, to reach for Vincent beneath the waistband of his pants, to feel his silken hardness and stroke it.  He'd done something similar with another vampire many hours before but the memory didn't surface as he wrapped his eager hand about Vincent's thick cock and milked it erratically.  He couldn't voice his desires but he was slamming himself against his hand and that erection hungrily, that strange, vocal thing he'd been in the pools returning as he made mewling noises in between his hot panting for breath, keening wordlessly as he tried to focus on the amazing feeling of blood pumping out of his body and the pulse of wishing Vincent would do something about filling the void.

[Trillian]

The vocal, writhing creature that Owen became only intensified Vincent's need to have him.  The awkward but eager hand on his cock was consent enough to continue.

As Owen didn't think of Sabri, Vincent did, but in an entirely unsexual way.  The ancient had commented slyly that each bedroom had all manner of things tucked away in the bathroom or bedside drawers - instruments of pleasure, he'd said.  Vincent had challenged him, accusing him of wanting to embarrass him, and that he wasn't the prude Owen had assumed.  It wasn't this part of the conversation that Vincent thought about, but the declaration of items stored in the bedside drawers - neither of which Vincent could reach because of where he was positioned with Owen on the bed.

He moved back into a kneeling position, and took Owen with him easily, the covers thrown back and sliding down his waist, not quite puddling at his feet because they hooked on Owen's.  He held the mortal in place but now he could look at where one of the bedside tables were.  It vibrated and rattled as Vincent continued to drink, caught between two areas that demanded his attention.  Adjusting his hold on Owen occurred at the same time as the drawer flew out of its cavity and landed roughly on the floor.  Vincent couldn't see what was in the drawer but it looked like a mess.  He grunted his annoyance and paused in his drinking again to lower Owen down on the bed with their heads towards the edge, this time properly centred beneath him, lifting his hips (and moving away from that wonderful warm hand, unfortunately) and maneouvring himself between Owen's legs.  Now he could see the toys Sabri stored in the drawers.  He bit his lower lip and healed Owen, so he could deal with finding and using the lubricant, and giving himself the option of drinking from the youth again without getting blood everywhere.

There it was!  A small tube that flew into his hand once he spied it.  He knelt back, this time leaving Owen on the bed, and separating himself from Owen's hand entirely, in order to put the tube onto the bed beside them and shuck down his pyjama pants hurriedly.  He was a lot slower removing Owen's shorts, having to shift around to get himself out of his own way as the clothing slid off and revealed Owen's nakedness to him in full.

There was a moment, as he tossed the boxers aside and looked at Owen's face, where everything might come screeching to a halt - but he didn't think of that, he had to look at Owen, and knew the mortal wouldn't be able to see more than a shadow of him.  The light in the walk in robe switched on at the far end of the room and the doors flung open of their own accord.  The room was hardly flooded with light, but now Owen would be able to see him, and Vincent wanted it that way.

[Existentially Odd]

Owen was so dazzled by the feeling of the drinking and the grinding that he didn't understand that Vincent was sitting up; his head was spinning from the lust pounding through his veins as it was.  The angle registered, though, the weight on his hand and the shift in gravity that had him bearing down deliciously upon it.  He barely had time to become annoyed that the sheets were on his foot and that his legs didn't quite... feel right... before he was put down again and everything was better.  Everything was wonderful, in fact, with Vincent pressing hard against him and him being able to wrap his muscular legs around the now-warm vampire.

He whimpered with disappointment when Vincent knelt up again but giggled when his clothes (for what they were worth) were pulled off.  It was about then that he realised the drinking had stopped, though the warmth of it still felt like it was flowing through his veins.  That made no sense; he was flowing through Vincent's veins now.  He opened his eyes when he sensed light, his hand straying up to prod at his smooth, dry (shouldn't there have been some saliva or something?) neck with wondering fingertips.  It was still highly sensitive there, though, and he stroked it absently as he looked up at Vincent, his light blue eyes slightly darker with lust and his pupils dilated.  His other hand dropped to his hardon and he stroked it too, in time with his neck, little flares of electricity shooting through him as his erogenous zones were simultaneously stimulated.

His gaze dropped, taking in Vincent's naked form, the torso he'd been familiar with his whole life.  He'd never seen the rest, though, never really even wondered about it until it was on display before him, hard and proudly twitching, eager to get inside his body.  Was he really going to have that?  With Vincent?  That little child reared its head inside him again, and the other parts of him were beginning to hate it.  There was a brief internal war, a debate and a genuine consideration of stopping here, contemplation of what the rest of the day would be like if he talked about losing his childhood illusions and claiming that as a reason for stopping.

In that moment, the potential awkwardness of halting and trying to share a bed as they backed away from this tumultuous precipice was far more intimidating than dealing with what this might mean to his relationship with Vincent in the daylight.  The latter seemed easy; the former excruciating.  It was an easy choice, when put like that.  He smiled.

"I never thought of you as sexy, until now," he said huskily, paying homage to that child as he mentally gagged it and stuffed it into a cupboard so it would leave him the fuck alone.  "Never wanted anything as badly as I want you inside me right now, either," he added, almost flippantly, doing a purposeful little wriggle on the bed, inspired by his own manipulations and also because Vincent's gaze on him was the most flattering, sexy thing he'd ever seen.  It made him want to perform in ways he'd never had the urge before and it turned his smile wicked, because he felt young and sexy and jubilant beneath that gaze.  Everything was possible, beneath that gaze.

[Trillian]

With the light behind him, it might as well have been daylight to Vincent, who could see every nuance in Owen's face.  He saw the ripple of confusion, of debate.  Of uncertainty.  It made his heart cry out for being the one to put it there, to make Owen feel out of his depth and not confident about his actions.  Then it was gone as quickly as it had come, but he had seen it, hadn't he?  And he couldn't unsee it.

What

Owen touched his neck, then touched himself, and Vincent looked down at that hand - the hand that had been on him, milking him that same way.

are

Owen's words resonated deep within him, activating his lust tenfold.  The wriggle was enough to make him unconcerned that he'd even seen the previous expression.  He could imagine his next actions neatly, thanks to Owen's words.  He could picture him thrusting himself into that wanton, warm body.

you

The tube of lubrication that was beside him on the bed lay uncollected as Vincent lowered himself to all fours and shuffled back, kissing a line down Owen's abdomen and ending with his mouth on the youth's cock, pushing the hand that was there away with little trouble.  He demonstrated to Owen how handy it was to have someone that didn't need breath down there, and also demonstrated his expertise and experience at disallowing Owen's peak - slowing him down effectively, making the moment last.

doing!?

Much like Owen had decided that they couldn't stop now before it got too messy, Vincent knew there had to be something, some kind of sexual experience between them, because they'd come this far.  Backing out now would be awkward and upsetting.  Going through with it could lead very much to the same.  So while his own stiff member pulsed and throbbed with need that he was going to do his best not to fulfill - not since seeing that uncertain expression flit across Owen's face - he allowed himself the use of his mouth on Owen's body.  Then, he allowed himself another bite on the inside of Owen's thigh, which his hand worked Owen to his peak.

He was disappointed, in a way, because he'd so wanted to give Owen what he'd asked for, to bury himself to the hilt, to have Owen cry out his name.  This was enough for now, it had to be, and it might create problems between them anyway.  He had to give Owen a chance to look at him differently, to not plunder his body the same night and force it on him.  When he could feel Owen arriving, he switched from the blood (with a quick heal) to his member, and swallowed what gushed forth from there, as well.

[Existentially Odd]

Owen had expected there to be more, he'd expected penetration but he didn't realise this until he'd cum and his journey was finished.  Everything leading to that point had been blissful and overwhelming.  He was amazed that his thigh could be bitten, and then he was stupefied to realise how good it was.  The sexiness of it, of having a face there but not quite there, combined with the swirling pull of blood seeping out of him and a hand on him had had his senses spinning.

He'd experienced the most unique experience with Sabri that he thought he'd ever get and it would never be bettered, yet here he was with Vincent and it was better than that.  It was better with everything, with the bite.

As the insanity of his second powerful orgasm for the night faded, though, he became aware that Vincent had held back.  He'd even told him how much he wanted it, but it hadn't happened and he wasn't in any sort of frame of mind to figure out why.  He was barely able to stay awake, let alone think, so he would probably have to ask.  Lifting his head groggily, he looked down at Vincent, a serene smile on his lips and ecstasy in his gaze.  There was still the possibility that Vincent liked making his partners cum before he did, of course, or that he wanted to drag the next stage out, so he half expected his friend to be moving up, over him as he looked down at him.

"Your turn now?" he prompted drunkenly.

[Trillian]

Oh, how he wanted that warm and willing mouth on him.  A mouth that had spoken with him over countless amount of topics, a mouth that had smiled and laughed with him.  It would mean so very much, to have his adoration returned.  And even though there was nothing within him stopping Owen, or wanting to stop Owen from returning the favour, there was an external influence that couldn't be denied.

"My love, I want that very much, but the sun is rising," he said, sounding as drunk as Owen himself.  He could hold the effects at bay for as long as he needed to, if he forced it, but he wouldn't be able to enjoy all Owen was willing to offer-  and that would be a travesty.  "So we'll... call it a night," he said with a smile, and then turned his head to look at the awfully comfortable looking pillows at the head of the bed.

[Existentially Odd]

Owen was baffled by this information but he didn't argue, for he was no vampire.  The sun was the enemy in more ways than one, he thought, and pointless resentment burned in his chest on Vincent's behalf.  He would have known it was rising, too, for he'd told Owen he could feel the time and sense the sun; he'd sacrifced his own pleasure for Owen's.

The boy's heart melted with love and he encouraged Vincent up to the correct end of the bed to lay beside him, not seeing the lube even though he hunted down the covers and straightened them so that he could have them on top of himself in the cool air conditioning.  It felt naughty to curl up against his best friend completely naked, but the blanket hauling had sapped his last bit of energy and he couldn't be bothered finding unnecessary clothing and getting it on.

He fell into a deep sleep that was punctuated by dreams about being in the wrong place, misreading timetables and missing aeroplane flights.  When he awoke, the room was still punctuated only by the wardrobe's light but Vincent was sleeping so Owen figured it had to be daytime beyond the palace's walls.  He'd rolled away from Vincent in his sleep and he watched him now, examining his still features and the surreal way he lay there without breathing.  Owen had never shared a bed with him before, that he could recall.  His gaze traced the face of this man, whom he'd grown up with and always seen him as... someone he really wasn't.

Vincent had been a man when Owen was a child, and he wasn't.  He'd been a father figure and a daydream of family perfection too, but he wasn't.  He'd been a vampire that drank blood and didn't have sex with anyone, too, but he wasn't.  Everything Owen had previously seen him for... he really wasn't and all of this misconceptions were gone now.  He was a creature of love and pleasure and an equal now.  He was still older than Owen could comprehend, but the rest... felt unknown.

It was quite scary and he admitted to himself as he lay there looking at Vincent that he was nervous about what came next.  For everything he felt he knew and that was familiar about his friend, there seemed to be two things that were brand new and unknown.  He didn't even look the same to Owen; he seemed much younger, much handsomer... sexier.  Yeah, what he'd done with him in the early hours of the morning had been damn sexy and he wasn't looking at Vincent the same way.  He was cautious about that, though, because that Vincent wasn't his Vincent and the dissonance would take a while to assimilate.  He was laying in bed with a stranger; an intimately-known, life-long associate... stranger.

When the weirdness and the worry about what he could even say to Vincent became too much, he got up and called for some breakfast, deciding he felt like some American-style food and ordering pancakes and syrup, bacon, eggs and French toast.  He got dressed in his boxers again and ate it all secreted away in an area beyond the sleeping Vincent, hoping his eating and cutlery use wouldn't wake him.  After that, he showered and pondered going for a walk around the palace, to see if he could figure out where some things were, but he got terribly lost and had to have help finding his way back to his room, which embarrassed him.

He decided to stay put after that (even though thinking about Vincent waking up and seeing him, then speaking to him set a million butterflies free in his belly) because he'd seen out some windows and the sun was setting.  He kicked off the sandals he'd been wearing and climbed back onto the bed wearing only his pale blue swimming trunks (he'd intended finding a pool, as a matter of fact).  He was sitting, cross-legged, about a metre away from Vincent when he awoke, elbows on his knees and concentrating on the phone he was playing with, in his lap.

[Trillian]

Vincent was awake before the sun fully set, as usual.  At the same time that he could sense Owen in his room, he also felt Sabri moving around in the palace too.  The ancient must've sensed his rising, for he greeted him with a light mental touch, causing all of Vincent's sleepiness to instantly dissipate.  He returned the greeting by following their connection, and had the impression that Sabri had been up for hours.

Interesting.

What was more interesting, was that Owen was still here in this room.  He remembered vividly what had happened between them last night, and guessed this was why Owen hadn't taken it upon himself to walk around the palace investigating and discovering what he could.

"I smell maple syrup," he said, and sat up in bed.  The covers fell about his middle and he stayed where he was, remembering his nudity.  He looked over at Owen and smiled a trial smile at him.  "It's a sweet smell," he explained, thinking his comment obvious but necessary.

[Existentially Odd]

Owen smiled shyly, inadvertently watching the covers fall and finding it interested him.  "I ate breakfast, a while back.  Almost lunch time now," he joked, for his metabolism had taken care of his past meal.  He found eye contact with Vincent difficult and, yes, the butterflies were out, causing his fingers to tingle and his arms to wobble as he worried about what he should say next.  Should he tell his friend that it could still be his turn?  He should, he knew... he wanted to but when he finally met Vincent's emerald gaze, boldness deserted him and he couldn't imagine himself saying it.

"Your food's a much more mutual affair," he commented, his grin softening.

[Trillian]

"Yes," Vincent agreed, and found himself watching Owen, not needing to say anything, simply observing.  He liked the way Owen was different with him, that their activity last night had impact, yet he was concerned it might make things awkward.  Owen had obviously not felt so awkward that he'd left the room.  The blush on the boy's face was enticing and delightful, and what he said was a little surprising.  He'd expected the youth to launch directly into a conversation about what the previous night had meant.  It wouldn't have been a bad thing, but it would've been more of an Owen thing.  This bashfulness, as sweet as it was, was new territory for Vincent.

[Existentially Odd]

Owen swallowed, the phone in his hand forgotten as he stared back at Vincent, feeling tension coil in his belly and his fingers begin to go numb as he cast around for something to say.  All that kept coming back to him was the imbalance achieved in last night's affair, though he wondered what it all might mean now.  Was he in a relationship with Vincent now?  Were they casual?  Were they still just 'friends', even though they'd done so much mroe than your average friendship did?

"I liked it a lot," he said quietly, still feeling like he was frozen in place while his heart yammered out a jungle beat of distress.

[Trillian]

Vincent tipped his head slightly to acknowledge what Owen had said, but wasn't sure what 'it' was that he was referring to.  Being drunk from or sexually consummating their friendship?  He felt the need to say more, this time, but other than seeking confirmation as to what Owen meant, there was little else to draw from.  Right now most of their conversation was body language and meaningful stares.  Owen's hammering heart was a siren's call.  He leant forward to fold his arms upon his covered knees, still regarding Owen intently.

"Enough for it to happen again?" he questioned.

[Existentially Odd]

The mortal's flush deepened and his gaze lowered to his lap, overcome with shyness, even though he felt perfectly okay with such conversational territory usually.  But it was usually him doing the propositioning and now it was Vincent.  Propositioning him.

"Yeah," he told his lap, noticing the phone and putting it aside.  He pressed his fists into the soft mattress either side of his hips and used them to lever himself up and move closer to Vincent, his knees on where the blankets started to slope upwards to Vincent's legs.  He lifted his gaze then, somehow surprised to find himself on eye level, even though he knew he was as tall as (if not a bit taller than) Vincent now.  He was feeling inferior, though.

"Why didn't you...?" he began, but couldn't bring himself to say anything crass like, 'fuck me', even though he thought it.  This was another thing he'd had time to ponder since being awake without Vincent.  Why had he not penetrated him?