Messages

16

An Tsi / Re: Next to Normal

« on: August 17, 2019, 11:15:35 PM »

This was just getting weirder and weirder. Luke wondered briefly if there had been something more potent than alcohol in his drink. There was a surreal quality to the evening that made it feel like he'd stumbled down some sort of rabbit hole. Otherworldly. That was the word he was looking for. Theo's inscrutable mien, Rohan's bizarre behavior. The way Theo described Rohan's location struck him as odd. Sure, they might just have known his habits- maybe this was a common occurrence? But the rational explanation didn't feel right to him. His first instinct was that Theo knew exactly where Rohan was somehow.

Despite his misgivings, he didn't feel any compunction to leave. His gut wasn't giving him danger, it was giving him weird. It almost felt like a dream. Now that he thought about it, that was exactly it. There was a disjointed, fabricated element to the evening that completely eluded any sense of disbelief, just like a dream.

He listened to Theo's advice, and it did nothing to dispel his new theory. They spoke as if there was nothing unusual at all about the situation, which was absurd. What sort of business would encourage a patron who had just been touched by one of their employees to go comfort the very employee who had done the touching?

"Right," he said, somewhat cavalier as he rose to his feet and moved toward the door. "Touch." He shook his head slowly as he stepped into the cool night air. He glanced around, spotting the alley in question, and sure enough, there was Rohan tucked up against the wall of the establishment.

"Hey." Luke didn't want to take him by surprise. After he'd announced himself, he walked slowly toward the other man. "You alright?" He stopped several feet away. Theo's recommendation for comforting him still hung in his mind, but he wanted to get a better sense of Rohan before buying into it.

17

Warwick Hotel / Re: Here We Are in the Present

« on: August 17, 2019, 10:56:10 PM »

Luke's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't said date, had he? His mind was something of a jumble, so he carefully reviewed the conversation. Public options did add a somewhat date-like element to their future interactions, sure, but he hadn't really meant it that way. Harm no doubt saw the sudden panic, but he'd also see it subside quickly. Luke drew a deep breath through his mouth and then released it amidst a nervous chuckle.

"I.. guess you could call it a date? I don't know." He seemed to be having some difficulty forging through his thoughts. "I want us to be able to get to know each other, uh, again, but in a setting where..." He trailed off. The end of that sentence went something like where there are plenty of witnesses, so that if I lose control you'll be safe, but he couldn't quite get the words out. "Just, someplace where we aren't alone."

He smiled a bittersweet smile. "It isn't ideal. Being seen with me is dangerous too. But until I feel like I can trust myself around you alone, I think it's our only option." He gave Harm's hand a squeeze before releasing it and carefully maneuvering himself off the bed while keeping the sheet wrapped around him. His erection had subsided enough that the imprint of his dick was only slightly obvious. "I should probably grab a shower," he said uncertainly, almost as if asking permission.

18

† OUT OF THE CITY † / Re: Single Handedly

« on: August 17, 2019, 10:29:13 PM »

Matteo watched the flames from a distance for a time, but his attention inevitably veered back to Lazzaro.

He studied his sire in the unsteady rush of light. All he had were questions, but some sense, likely the same force that sluiced Laz's emotions into him, told him that now was not the time. He had scored a minor victory with his defiance, and pushing would only make that meaningless. Besides, he had eternity to obtain his answers about Kate, and the missing hand, and his past with Antonio and Pietro, and a million other things beside. This arrogant, short-sighted creature had been alive for as long as Christianity; even if he was a bit of a fool, he was no doubt a very interesting fool.

After the first hour, his hunger asserted itself more emphatically. Irritability gave way to silent, sullen rage, which became something else altogether. His thoughts fell into primal patterns. Every time the sounds of human lives intruded on the courtyard - usually just distant footsteps, but occasionally distant voices - Matteo's head whipped in that direction, his new eyes wide, drinking in moonlight, nostrils flaring, fingers curved to mimic talons. He began to pace, needing to move to abate the rawness of his need. The movements were not at all human. He had the air of a trapped predator, indolent but dangerous.

His gaze snapped to Lazarro at the vampire's words. It took a few seconds for him to register the sounds as speech. He tensed, ready to fight or flee when the ancient moved toward him, but then surged forward to grasp Laz's arm and fit his mouth against the wound. His drinking was frenzied at first, sloppy, but after he had his first gulp his conscious mind reasserted itself. He drank more gently (though it was hardly gentle), his own delicate-looking hands holding Laz at the elbow and wrist, as if his radius and ulna were a giant ear of corn.

He felt the brutal tug of the command to stop, and finally pulled away, pouting, when it came again. His lips were slightly smeared with blood from the initial assault, but his tongue made quick work of that. "Thank you," he murmured, sounding almost drugged. He didn't resist at all when Laz dragged him along. As they walked, he felt the urge to lace his fingers through Lazzaro's, but resisted it.

He simply nodded at the instructions and then sauntered off in the direction they had been going. He pushed his hands into his pockets and adopted a rolling gait, replete with swagger, that was not uncommon for boys who sold their bodies. There was a peacockishness required to the role, to attract the attention of a potential patron. His lips pulled into an easy, distracted smile, but his eyes remained aloof. He could almost sense Laz nearby - maybe behind him? - but he did not seek him out. By all appearances, he was just a young man on his way for a night on the town.

He wound his way through the narrow streets, eventually bringing them to a small park. He'd been walking for perhaps a quarter hour, but could already feel the hunger mounting. The park itself was not an ideal place for dalliances, but men would sometimes cruise there and retire elsewhere to do the deed. He could have gone to one of the bars he knew, but that might prove difficult. Yes, there would be a plethora of prey, but most of them would know him, recognize him, want to talk, catch up. The thought of being trapped in a conversation while hearts beat and pulsed around him was daunting. He doubted he had the control to pull it off.

No, this was better. More manageable, more safe. He entered the park and slowed his pace. There had been periods when policemen paid attention to this place, but he saw no evidence of that being the case right now. After a few minutes of wending his way along the manicured path, he wondered if he might need to seek out greener pastures. The place was vacant. There was a peacefulness to it. The sounds of the city were faint at this hour, and the bulwark of carefully maintained greenery dulled them further.

"Teo?"

A familiar voice tugged at his attention. Distracted, he wheeled, perhaps a touch to fast. Elisio.

The other boy jogged forward and came in for a hug. Matteo accepted it, smiling uncertainly. Elisio was not strictly a whore. He was a student, with vaguely-described parents who paid for the minimum. He liked nice things, though, as evidenced by the gleaming, chunky gold watch on his wrist and designer cut of his clothes. He was absolutely beautiful, Matteo had to admit. What time he had that wasn't spent studying, partying, or fucking was spent at the gym, yielding the sort of body that Teo had always envied just slightly.

"It's been ages!" Elisio laughed and stepped back. He favored an artful stubble these days, apparently. Standing nearly a head taller than Teo, he looked down, grinning. "What have you been up to?"

Matteo shrugged and mirrored the grin. A tactic came to him. "I'm being kept," he lied easily. He forced himself to tear his eyes away from Elisio's throat. "He's rich, and hung like Ignazio." They both laughed; Ignazio was somewhat legendary for the size of his member. Despite his sporty look, Teo knew that Elisio was an irredeemable bottom. "We're actually looking for some company... if you're interested?"

Elisio's eyebrows hedged upward. He was obviously skeptical, or at least confused. Why would Matteo be here to find a third, when there were so many more lively places to look? "He lives nearby," Matteo cut in quickly, before adding an appeal to Elisio's nostalgia and vanity. His eyes, so deeply blue now, widened boyishly. He reached out to take one of Elisio's hands in both of his. "It will be fun. Like old times. And I know he'll like you." He laughed, self-consciously. "He's always saying I need more muscle on me." He kept hold with one hand, but the other slide up Elisio's forearm to give his bicep a squeeze.

Elisio considered for a few seconds, then broke into a wide grin. "Rich and hung, you say?"

Matteo released Elisio's hand and playfully swatted his butt. "It's a little obscene. You'll be walking like a crone tomorrow. And he's not even too ugly." Elisio slipped his arm around Teo's shoulder, and Teo fit himself against the other boy, looping his own arm around Elisio's waist. He started walking, steering him out of the park and towards the nearby residential area. It was a plausible neighborhood for a wealthy man, and the streets were dark and quiet. Matteo wasn't sure where Lazzaro was, so he just ambled along, catching up. He lied fluently about his own activities, describing how he had met this fictional patron and the piano lessons he was being treated to. All the while, his hunger writhed inside of him. Being close to Elisio's warm body was sweet agony.

19

† OUT OF THE CITY † / Re: Single Handedly

« on: August 13, 2019, 01:22:27 PM »

Matteo froze in Laz's one-handed grasp. The touch was gentle, yes, but he had no illusions that Lazzaro couldn't maim him with just a thumb and finger. He'd felt the revulsion, the anger, the desire to cause pain. In the end, what would it cost the ancient to unmake him? He would be unable to return to the nest, but did he even want to? Laz would feel the needles of fear flying off him as his chin was manipulated, filling his vision with the purple-black banner of sky above them.

The question was a valid one. His hunger was a tiger stalking back and forth in far too small a cage. The idea of denying himself blood as early and often as possible was almost incomprehensible. He tried his best to consider it earnestly, but he couldn't detach himself enough from the situation to do so. Laz's touch hardly helped. He found that he craved it. He wanted that hand to stroke his hair while Lazzaro called him his baby bird, yes. The endearment appealed, but it also reminded him of Kate's fate- of the way her head had been twisted around like an owl's.

He ducked away and started back toward the building. His walk was naturally quite mincing, with a hint of sway to his hips, but he amplified the effect in a way that he knew called quite a bit of attention to his pert little butt. He pushed his hands into his pockets in a way that looked casual but was actually just intended to keep them from shaking.

"I guess we will find out, but you know the rule." He'd managed to due a remarkable facsimile of his usual imperious tone, but through the bond, Laz would know it for the bluster it was. "We have to stay together. If you want to leave, you'll have to carry me."

He looked over his shoulder at Lazzaro, his heavy-lidded eyes evincing none of the fear he so obviously felt. He wasn't sure he would have been able to pull this off if Laz had commanded him, but he hadn't, and that was that. "This is not how I imagined any of this would go, but if you won't tend to our status then one of us must."

20

City Streets / Re: Nox Vs. Luke

« on: August 13, 2019, 01:06:58 PM »

Something isn't right.

The thought had intruded on his musing as he walked through the city. He'd felt uneasy for a while, but that made sense; he wasn't supposed to be here. Jake had sworn him off of Chinatown for political reasons, and Luke had agreed to stop seeing Harm at his apartment. How was he supposed to resist an early afternoon lunch/dinner with Harm after not seeing him for nearly a week, though? Between Harm's medical work schedule and Luke's newfound role of sheriff, there had been precious little time for the two of them, especially considering that Harm's place was now off limits. Harm had been practically drowsy through their diner date, and headed home to crash before the bill was settled.

His thoughts had been consumed by Harm, and by work. Now that he was running the show in fact, there was always something to do- a schedule to adjust, a report to read, a training session to implement. His current pet project was improving the district's armory with weapons that would prove useful against a variety of threats. He was glad for the multiple distractions because it kept him from thinking about Project Twilight. Apparently they were making moves. According to Jake, they'd attacked one of his spies. There was no evidence that they had tracked down Luke, but the fact that they'd managed to corner one of the Nossies... well, Luke was dubious on that count.

He was clad in gray sweats, sneakers, and a deep blue hoodie. He kept his hands plunged into the pouch pocket at the front of it, but the hood wasn't drawn. He was vigilant on his worst days, and he preferred a clear view of his periphery to the anonymity it would provide.

He didn't slow his step or alter his body language in the slightest when his internal alarms started going off. If there was someone nearby planning to make a move, they were much more likely to make mistakes if they thought they were catching him unawares. He continued on his intended path, but was ready to change course if he felt like he needed to shake a tail.

He studied the reflections in the wide windows that he passed, watching for signs to confirm his suspicions. It was several minutes before he caught a glimpse of his shadow; a figure all in black, masked, creeping along at a distance. His pulse quickened, but again, he kept his rolling stride the same and maintained the lost in thought expression he'd been wearing. Whoever it was, they had skills. Luke had only seen them disappear into a patch of shadow. Given the amount of foot traffic, for someone dressed like that to go unnoticed, they had to be beyond professional. It fairly screamed Project Twilight.

Deja vu struck him suddenly. He was almost to the bus depot where he'd confronted Jake. Just like that time, he was being pursued. He'd had less control then, though. He'd been more desperate, unable to think of himself as anything but predator or prey. This time he didn't even entertain that paradigm. He had a lot more options, and a lot more support. If they wanted a crack at him, they'd have to earn it. Luring them off to some isolated spot was probably exactly what they wanted. If he was them, he'd have teams nearby, ready to move on every likely location for a confrontation. In that case...

A strange sound tugged at his attention, and he managed to catch a glimpse of the obscured figure again out of the corner of his eye. They were close now, and it was almost as if they wanted to be caught. That information conflicted with his assessment of his quarry being a well-trained operative, but not enough for Luke to change his plan.

There was a subway stop up ahead. He tended not to ride it if he could avoid it. Something about being underground, with so many people around, rankled him. Right now, it was just what he needed. They could hardly cover every stop on the line. They could ostensibly pull strings and get the train shut down, but that would require some real pull, and would be a dead giveaway as to what was going on. He was confident he'd be able to escape, either into the crowd or the tunnels.

With his hands clenched into fists but still hidden in his pockets, he headed down the stairs and into the brightly lit subway station. Despite his aversion, he kept a few tickets on him, so he didn't even need to stop; he just made his way right through the turnstile and walked a ways down the platform to give himself a good vantage point of every means of entrance.

A self-satisfied smirk twisted his lips. Your move, asshole.
 

21

Warwick Hotel / Re: Here We Are in the Present

« on: August 13, 2019, 11:41:53 AM »

Luke watched Harm's trip to the bathroom. With the immediate dangers- him hurting Harm and Harm disappearing from his life- having passed, he could actually appreciate the sight of the beautiful naked man crossing the hotel room. He felt his cock stirring slightly and frowned, realizing that for all his misery, he was still something of a slave to his biology. He hadn't gotten off, and he'd been horny for the whole of the massage and beyond. It was amazing his balls weren't blue.

When Harm was back on the bed and chattering away, Luke carefully laid down. The sheet was still wrapped around him, but not so thoroughly. It was less about modesty than the fact that he didn't really trust himself to be completely naked with Harm anymore. Shifting onto his side, with his body propped up by his elbow, he listened, frowning slightly at Harm's joke. His left arm escaped the sheet and reached forward so that he could take Harm's hand. His eyes fixed briefly on their hands together. It looked so normal and so right, but Luke suddenly felt an itch at his right shoulder and cringed.

His cringing grew more acute when he suddenly found himself being questioned about jerking off of all things. It was, as he was learning, classic Harm - but it was something of a shock in the wake of what had happened. It must have been some kind of defense mechanism. He shrugged, running his thumb along Harm's knuckles. His dick stirred again. "Uh. No. That's never happened. It's just... pretty normal, I guess? I don't really do that often, but it's never been like, well, like it is with- like it was."

He decided it was time for an abrupt subject change. "So what are some harmle-" He caught himself. "-some safe things we can do next time? You mentioned video games, but... maybe it's better if we stick to public options?"

22

† OUT OF THE CITY † / Re: Single Handedly

« on: August 13, 2019, 11:26:30 AM »

Matteo was watching in confusion when his sire paused to deliver... well it wasn't quite an order, but it might as well have been one. The prospect of more blood was all the enticement he needed to hop to attention and begin tugging at a mostly-dead shrub. Despite the power etched into his muscles know by Lazzaro's blood, he still had a bit of a tough time with it. The sight of his struggle might be a bit comical to a bystander, if there were any. He squatted down for leverage and heaved... and when the soil finally gave way and the roots tore free, he ended up stumbling backwards. He moved his feet in a rapid, strange little dance that managed to keep him from planting his ass on the dirty ground.

Looking almost sheepish, he jogged to the body. He stopped cold when he got within a couple meters of it, though. The flames weren't even respectable yet, but the sight of them transfixed him. In a start contrast to their heat, he was suddenly filled with cold, instinctual fear. His nostrils flared and then he wrinkled his nose. The scent of burning flesh and hair was overwhelming, and he'd not yet learned to compensate for his enhanced senses. It was then that he remembered that he didn't need to breath. He stopped filling his lungs and stepped cautiously forward, tossing his armful of dry vegetation toward the flame-licked corpse. It didn't have the mass required to behave as he'd intended, though. It bounced off and then rolled back off of her body to sit unscathed on the ground beside it.

A weary frown darkened his features and he crept forward slowly. He knew that fire was a bane to vampires, but his body and blood seemed to insist upon it. He picked up the shrub once more and stepped in closer- close enough to feel the heat- and then laid it out across what was left of her gently, diagonally, so that it would make contact with the plant matter Lazarus had strewn over her. The brittle, dry would caught and burned quickly, and that intensity began igniting the other, half-dead greenery.

Relief ebbed through him as he backed away. He was a bit puzzled by the whole process. Olive oil was a terrible accelerant. He'd been expecting Lazzaro to do something clever or magical with it, but instead, it seemed like borderline incompetence. He would have to ask later. Surely there must be a reason he'd chosen to dispose of his follower this way. If there wasn't, it didn't bode well for Matteo.

He crossed the courtyard to a window that had been boarded up and slipped his fingers between the gap between two planks. Bracing one foot on the wall, he surged backward viciously. The rusty nails that fixed it to the window frame gave way with a faint screech. Matteo repeated the process, and then brought the wood to the burgeoning fire. Between them and the furniture, it might actually last long enough to take her down to bone, but then there would still be bones to deal with. Did Lazzaro intend to keep them? Or would he... what? Strew them throughout the city, bury them in the yard?

His thoughts were cut short when Lazzaro took his hand and began pulling him away from the fire. Distance was welcome, but Laz would feel a turbulent wave off confusion roil off his fledge as they exited. They couldn't possibly simply leave the body there. What if someone found it? What if one of the members of the nest emerged and saw that they were being so incautious? Was this some kind of test, of him? To see if he would simply let Lazzaro have his way even if his way was pure idiocy?

He found it difficult to put his concerns to words. It was close enough to disobeying that it made him feel a terrible weight seem to press in upon him from all sides. When Lazzaro asked him about street corners though, he pulled to a stop, or tried to, at least; it wasn't as if he could arrest the ancient in the slightly if Laz didn't let him.

His first instinct was to ask if Laz was some sort of moron, but that was almost impossible, fortunately. His scorn was likely evident across the bond, but what he finally said was much more tactful. "I think we should wait. Ensure no one finds her before it is done. An-" Why had his voice caught? "Antonio does not appreciate carelessness. And..." The idea formed wholly, on its own, but he realized it was a good one. "And shouldn't we be there? For her?" There was a thoroughly boyish, somewhat pleading quality in his voice. It was a tone he was well-practiced in using, and to good effect, on older men. In truth he could care less about the woman's last rites, but Lazzaro was clearly attached to him somehow, and if it took appealing to his emotions to get him to behave rationally, then Matteo was far from above it.

23

† OUT OF THE CITY † / Re: Single Handedly

« on: August 08, 2019, 09:03:25 PM »

Matteo seemed intimately familiar with the route. It was actually even easier to navigate with his new eyes. What would have been variations of darkness before now stood clearly outlined to him. He wondered idly if he was strong enough to use the main entrance yet, or if that would come in time. He would have to find an opportunity to test his enhanced body at some point soon.

He glanced up at the night sky as they emerged in the courtyard, feeling the weight of the moon overhead. He recalled dimly from a middle school science class that moonlight was actually reflected sunlight. This was the most of the sun that he would ever experience again. He couldn't help but wonder why sunlight by proxy wasn't a danger. Was it just too diffuse to cause harm? Or was there some other more mystical reason, some transformation that happened in the filtering that science couldn't detect.

Teo offered the bottle to him, shifting his attention to the corpse. He wanted to ask about her - who she had been, what she meant to him, why on earth he had brought her with him to the nest - but he was more curious about the olive oil, and about how Lazzaro planned to use it to make her body disappear. He remained silent, ready to assist.

24

Warwick Hotel / Re: Here We Are in the Present

« on: August 08, 2019, 08:42:06 PM »

There was something comforting in the way Harm reverted to the medical. His diagnosis made sense, and having some kind of explanation for what happened was helpful. He still didn't think that was all of it, though. There was an otherness to what he felt that wasn't just adrenaline at work. He had no idea what had been done to him. The arm was just the most obvious augmentation. For all he knew, he'd had supernatural gray matter spliced into his own.

He also had a nagging question in the back of his mind. Uncontrollable anger wasn't part of the recipe for a perfect weapon. Aggression was a component, sure, but soldiers had to be able to make decisions, to act autonomously, to achieve their orders based on ever-changing variables. If his monstrousness was intentional, what exactly had he been designed to do?

Harm's flesh against his own startled him. His pulse quickened, but there was no sudden urge for violence. He stroked the ball of Harm's hand with the pad of his thumb, meeting his gaze while he spoke. His brow furrowed as he considered the question, which boiled down, essentially, to can we make this work? He realized immediately that he wanted to, badly. He was fully aware of the unspoken choice, and knew that it was the right one. One of them could have a normal life. Harm could live in a world where danger was only in the periphery, not in his bed. He couldn't help but wonder if he was part of some kind of pattern. Harm had mentioned an abusive ex. They'd have to talk about that, at some point... which made Luke realize that he'd already made his decision.

"I think we should be really careful about sex. I... remembered something, in the middle of it. That's the only thing that stopped me. It was just the two of us sitting, studying I think. You were on one of those beanbag chairs." He shrugged; it didn't seem like an ideal time to get into the fact that past-Luke had been suppressing an attraction to Harm. "There's no guarantee that will happen again. But I do want to spend time with you. Get to know you." He gave Harm's hand a gentle squeeze. "We just have to be careful."

25

† OUT OF THE CITY † / Re: Single Handedly

« on: August 08, 2019, 08:11:16 PM »

Matteo sauntered along, just ahead of Lazzaro. His hip-swiveling walk had apparently survived the transition from human to vampire. He wore a dreamy, fangy smile as he passed through the residents of the nest who had yet to disperse following his ascension. How was it that so many of the vampires he knew were always so damn morose? Damnation, if that was what this was, seemed to suit the youth. He was happy to return a few nods of acknowledgment, and couldn't help but note the way that his former peers regarded him. Some of the mortals bore signs of jealousy; they'd been there longer and not been made. Others watched him with interest. These were the ones addicted to the bite, likely wondering what his might be like. The smartest among them expressed the same reservation as most of the vampires, waiting to see where the political fallout settled before openly taking a position.

His brief study of the herd reaffirmed his hunger. It dug its claws just a little deeper, and for a dizzying instant the whole world was throats and heartbeats. He almost missed a step, but caught himself. It was all he could do not to drop his effects and launch himself at the nearest of them. Fortunately, he had Lazzaro at his side. His sire's presence was not particularly reassuring, but it was extremely distracting. He seemed to be rapidly shunting through all of the stages of grief, and that admixture of sorrow and strife was enough to tug his thoughts back to the matter at hand.

He settled his bag down on the sofa, then leaned the mirror against the wall. He was glad he'd saved it- there wasn't one among the meager furnishings. He paused to stare at his reflection. His eyes were by far the most striking change- they were like ancient sapphires, dark and cold but still glittering. His hair was an actual mess, not the artful sort he preferred, so he quickly ran a hand through it to sooth the worst of the disarray. His lower face was streaked with the dark rust of dried blood. He opened his mouth, leaning forward to inspect his newly pronounced canines, and then wheeled at Lazzaro's sudden command.

That was already getting old- both the fact that the man only seemed to speak in edicts (not unlike Antonio), and that he was seemingly wired to obey. He dug into the bag, tugging out a pair of sandals which he dropped to the floor and then stepped into. He absently plucked the bottle from where he'd tucked it in his duffel, tossing it into the air with a flourish like a bartender at a fancy cocktail venue and catching it easily on his way back to the door. He paused beneath Laz's scrutiny, cocking an eyebrow. "What? You're the one who did it." The ability to defy was pleasantly surprising; it meant his will was not completely suborned. He decided to test it further.

"According to the rules you'll need to escort me to wash up. It's this way."

He tossed the bottle from hand to hand as he moved to the left, out into the main corridor that formed a horse-shoe around the residential rooms and main hall. At one end was the dining area, and at the other, the bath facilities. It was a longer route than simply cutting across the hall, but he wanted to stretch his legs a bit, so to speak. He entered and trotted to the bay of sinks to clean up a bit. Little expense had been spared for this portion of the nest. The counters and floors were a pleasant pink marble. Three walls of the washroom were taken up by sinks and basins, and to Matteo's great delight, those walls were dominated by spotless mirrors. There was room enough for a third of the nest to perform ablutions at any given moment.

The washroom led off in two directions. One contained toilets that he'd never need again, and the other contained the showers and baths. He would have liked to take a bath, just then. He wondered if Lazzaro would join him for one after the deed was done. He considered the vampire's lean frame, and could easily imagine him stretched out in one of the hot tubs. Yes, that would have to happen sooner rather than later.

He wet a cloth with hot water and scrubbed the dried jizz from his chest easily enough. His mouth was a taller order. It took some effort to remove every last tinge of red from his flesh, and by the time he'd finished he felt abraded. He inspected himself carefully in the mirror to ensure that he was spotless, then fluttered his fingers up his shirt, reluctantly buttoning it. He left the top three undone, then returned to Lazzaro. He'd been carefully ignoring the feelings of irritation emanating from the corridor.

"This way," he chirped cheerfully, flashing a grin. He tucked the bottle of olive oil under his arm and made his way back down the corridor, towards the stairs that led to the nest's main entrance.

26

† OUT OF THE CITY † / Re: Single Handedly

« on: August 07, 2019, 02:39:59 PM »

A mute, smoldering rage and needling annoyance had spurred Matteo out of his former bedroom. He still felt elation. Every step was an exercise in the power he had been gifted- no, the power that he had earned. Perhaps he hadn’t come by it in exactly the manner he’d been imagining for months now, but he had it. Antonio had been the center of his universe for so very long, but now that he’d been cast out of that particular orbit… well, the world seemed a much wider place, teeming with potential.

He blinked his tidal eyes at the command, but his body was already reacting. Olive oil? Flour? They were hiding a corpse, not baking bread. Despite his many questions about the grocery list, he had already padded into the dining area. He headed toward the kitchen and pantry. After setting his bag down on a counter and leaning the tall mirror against the nearby wall, he oriented himself and located the dry goods. He stood before the counter in front of the high cupboards and judged the distance. Carefully, he leapt, landing neatly on his bare feet in an easy crouch. He stood and began rifling through the densely packed shelves.

Once upon a time, he had been familiar with a kitchen. He’d been awed by his mother’s skills, in the magic involved in turning various ingredients into delicious fare. As he handled and inspected a variety of such ingredients, he found himself not caring in the slightest about them. There was cereal, coffee, sugar… he found himself reacting not at all. None of it compared to the memory of the taste that had brought him back from the brink of death.

Lazzaro’s irritation buzzed about him like a cloud of flies. He snapped out of his thoughtfulness and seized a slender, unmarked bottle of olive oil. No need for the flour. He hopped down again and unzipped his bag, stuffing the bottle part-way in. Shouldering the strap and tucking the mirror under his arm once more, he trotted back out. His nose wrinkled when he spotted Kate’s remains lolling about in Lazzaro’s stunted grasp.

“This way,” he said, tone clipped, as he marched toward their allotted room.

27

† OUT OF THE CITY † / Re: Single Handedly

« on: August 07, 2019, 11:47:09 AM »

If Matteo weren’t so thrilled to be immortal, he might have been miffed. Antonio should have been welcoming him into the fold, not dictating logistics. Yes, the woman had to be dealt with, but it wasn’t as if they had throngs waiting for rooms to open up. He could move his things when it was convenient. As he considered it, he didn’t much care about his things at the moment. He was hungry, or at least, that was the best word he had for it. Instead of a gnawing feeling in his stomach, it was a gnawing feeling throughout his whole body that continuously frayed his attention.

The only thing that stood a chance of rivaling his hunger was Lazzaro. His sire was a beacon of emotion. Blazing anger gave way to annoyance, and then even more annoyance. At first he thought the feelings were his own, but he managed to untangle the skeins of them and realize that they were foreign. He knew nothing of the bond he now shared with the ancient, but couldn’t help but feel an echo of what his sire felt.

Lazzaro’s words certainly affected him. The order was nearly an iron-clad command, the way his mind and body reacted. His posture stiffened, and he was just about to march off as instructed when Pietro interrupted. The near-compulsion was still there, but the distraction helped him separate himself from it. That was not a part of the bargain he’d been anticipating, and he frowned faintly while the three vampires, each a pillar of his existence in one way or another, deliberated.

Matteo padded silently to his discarded shirt and pulled it on, leaving it open to expose his slim torso. The load that Lazzaro had coaxed for him was very much dry now, and looked almost like peeling skin. He watched the man stoop and maneuver the corpse of his follower into his arms, then swung to lead the way to his room. Doing so caused them to pass the seated Antonio, and Matteo did so without so much as a word or glance.

“I’ll be just a moment,” he intoned to Lazzaro. He’d performed a mental inventory, and there really wasn’t much to contend with. He’d been away from the nest for quite a while on assignment, and only just moved back in. He’d decluttered considerably before leaving. He pulled the door open and slipped inside. He emptied drawers into a duffel bag, then added some hygiene items and pieces of jewelry. His cell phone, powered down whenever he was in the nest, he slid into his pocket. There were a few fashion magazines on his night stand, but he’d already read them- they went into the garbage. So too did a painted poster of a beach scene. His mouth curled. He didn’t need any reminders that he’d never see the sun again. Of all the parts of the price he was paying, that was no doubt the greatest.

He zipped the bag up and hefted it, marveling at the ease of the act. He would have struggled beneath its weight not half an hour ago. He assumed there would be bed-linens in his new room, so he left those. All that remained was the mirror - a fairly cheap unit meant to be affixed to the back of the door. He had never gotten around to it, though, so it simply leaned against some vacant wall. He tucked it under his other arm and strode back into the hall.

“I will drop this off, and then we can dis-” He caught himself, practically conditioned by the flash of anger he’d felt at Antonio’s choice of words before. “-err, lay your friend to rest, that is,” he finished diplomatically. He strode past Lazzaro as if what he carried were no encumbrance at all, leading the way to the room they would share.

28

Warwick Hotel / Re: Here We Are in the Present

« on: August 07, 2019, 01:36:47 AM »

Luke flinched at the contact, but didn’t pull away. He turned his head a bit, watching Harm’s fingers brushing his own with the sheet between them. He waited for whatever was lurking inside him to stir, but found that he only felt tired. Profoundly tired. The touch itself was comforting, but he couldn’t help but feel as if Harm were at risk still.

He swallowed and lifted his gaze to meet Harm’s when he responded. “There have only been two times before. The first…” He paused, eyes darkening, but forced himself to continue. “The first time, it was with a vampire and… well, he could take it. I thought maybe it was just because I was so pent up- I’d been cooped up for weeks-  but... and the second time, it wasn’t violent but it was depraved. I think about it after the fact and it just feels so wrong.” His jumbled thoughts were coming out in disarray, and he didn’t seem to realize that Harm lacked the context to make much sense of it.

“So I guess it’s always been like this, even if the sample size is small. It isn’t just sex, either. It happens when I’m fighting too. Luke sort of fades away, I guess, or is standing backstage, and there’s just this ferocity that feels so much bigger than me front and center.”

He pressed his lips together, and when he spoke again, his voice threatened to break. “I don’t want to hurt you, Harm. I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.” He choked a sob back, struggling to maintain some semblance of his usual stoicism but failing utterly. “But I… until then… everything felt so good.” His hand moved beneath the sheet, shifting so that he could hold Harm’s hand through it, gently. “I want to tell you to go, to stay away, but I can’t.”

29

† OUT OF THE CITY † / Re: Single Handedly

« on: August 06, 2019, 12:50:51 PM »

Matteo tried to cling as his source of blood pulled away, but it was futile. He felt more powerful than ever, but he was a gnat compared to his sire. His bloodlust cooled once the font was removed and conscious thought slowly resumed.

Scent hit him first, like a sledgehammer to the skull. Blood and sex launched a two-pronged assault on his nose, and the combination was almost too much for him. He made himself stop breathing, and when he did, he found he no longer had to. His nervous system didn’t send him any of the usual emergency signals, allowing him to ignore the the olfactory bounty of the room.

Touch came next, and with it, awareness of where he was. He’d forgotten for a moment. The cool tile against his bare back was a delight; the wet, tacky sensation surrounding his mouth, less so. He could feel the air currents in the large room. He’d sensed them before, but only dimly. Their might as well have been wind roaring through the chamber. He could feel it sluicing across every individual downy, almost invisible hair on his forearms. I’m on the floor, in the hall… it’s done.

His eyes shot open and he sat up abruptly. What might have been a languid, sensuous movement when he was mortal ended with him almost comically bent forward as his core muscles exceeded their own memory. His eyes had already changed. Where they had once been the blue-green of summer waters, they were now the briny blue of the depths, bottomless, yearning, threatening to drown anyone trapped in them.

Lazzaro was their first potential victim. Matteo looked up at the one who had made him. He had planted his palms on the floor to anchor him in sitting, and he grinned as he wiggled his toes. The ancient’s presence was palpable in a way it hadn’t been before. It was as if there was a tide washing between them, tugging Matteo toward him. He wanted to bask in it, to give in to it, but he didn’t. Not yet.

He turned his bloody face to scan the room, marking each vampire and mortal in turn. Most of them returned his stare, but they were a mixed lot. A few offered small smiles or amused nods, others maintained careful lack of expression, and others still seemed vexed as they regarded him. He stopped on Pietro, whose features were contorted livid, and could not help but let out a loud gale of laughter. He just looked so silly that way, and this was hardly the time for glowering. They should be celebrating! He was one of them!

Heedless of any offense he might have caused, he turned at last to regard Antonio. He drew himself up onto his feet and only realized that his shorts were splayed open when they nearly slipped off of his hips. He jerked his arms down and tugged them back up, then snapped and zippered them in short order. In looking down to do so, he saw the semen on his chest, partway dried already. Puzzlement scrunched his features a bit, and he absently reached up, wiping his thumb through the sticky blood on his chin and then licking it elaborately off. His eyes remained on Antonio as he savored the last of it. He did it again with his index finger, and this time slid it into his mouth down to the second knuckle before removing it slowly.

“My apologies for before.” His voice was thick, as if drunk. He could feel something happening in his mouth, more specifically, in his gums. It wasn’t quite painful, but there was a dull ache, as if something was grinding at his maxilla from within. Fangs, he realized. Distracted, he reached up at his mouth again, poking at the tip of one of them with the pad of his finger. With his curiosity satisfied, he focused again on Antonio.

“This certainly doesn’t feel like a mistake.” With that, he looked over his shoulder to Lazzaro.

30

Warwick Hotel / Re: Here We Are in the Present

« on: August 06, 2019, 07:44:24 AM »

Luke didn’t move when Harm stepped out of the bathroom. It wasn’t until he spoke that Luke looked up. There was fear in his eyes, and he would have been hard-pressed to classify it. Fear of what he had done, what he could do, what Harm would say. He both hoped for and dreaded being sent away. He sat immobile and listened.

“I’m sorry,” he said again when Harm was finished. “You… didn’t misread anything.” There was something hopeless about his delivery, as if this had all been unavoidable. He was just glad it had stopped before any real damage had been done. He sucked in a breath, but his chest felt tight, making it difficult to fill his lungs.

“I’m… it wasn’t me,” he said quietly. “That’s why I don’t… why I say this isn’t me.” Loathing exploded in his voice as he uncovered his right arm, but he managed to get the words out. He slapped both of his hands to his face, violent enough to be audible across the room. He pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes and dug his fingers into his scalp. “I knew better, I knew better, I knew better…” He repeated the words again and again. With each recitation his arms jerked as his hands exerted what was probably terrific pressure against his skull.

As suddenly as the fit had begun, it ended. He drew his legs to his chest and grabbed at the sheet, struggling to hold it in place as he wrapped his arms around his shins and rested his chin on his knees. His eyes fell on Harm again and his features contorted, as if he might simply start crying. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, shifting to press his face into his legs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” The apology would continue until interrupted.