Pre-drinks Dinner

[Existentially Odd]

"You smell good. Is that Calvin Klein?"
"Mhmm," Kerr agreed noncommittally, skewing an eyebrow towards the child trotting at his side.
"Eternity?"
"Aye. Don\'t you love the irony?
He was rewarded with a tinkling giggle, though it was shortlived.
"For her?"
"No. For men."
The laugh came back, in its high-pitched, sarcastic form. It floated into the night as they walked steadily towards their destination. Well, Kerr\'s destination; Sawyl was just clinging to his hand and skipping along to antagonise him, it seemed.
"Smells good, anyway."
"Thank you."
"She might even lick it off you."
"Sawyl..."
"Think she\'ll dress up?" the boy asked slyly, recognising the warning tone for what it was.
"Probably."
"Better than that awful hospital attire, I should imagine."
Kerr\'s jaw clenched; they\'d had the argument about Wyl ferretting about inside his mind freely. It would do no good to rehash it.
Jauntily, the boy - who was dressed in the very average attire of beige cargo pants and a caramel coloured polo shirt - leapt over a puddle and hastened his steps as his adult companion sped up; his level of discontent was directly related to the pace of his walking, apparently.
"Hungry, are you?"
"No."
"Oh?" When Kerr didn\'t rise to the bait, Sawyl tried a different tack, switching to Gaelic to startle him into responding. "Then why are you in such a hurry to reach the fast-food restaurant?"
"It\'s a club," Kerr ground out, in English.
"Potatoe, potarto," the boy piped dismissively (persisting with their native tongue). "You certainly don\'t go to any effort."
"You wouldn\'t have a clue."
"That\'s right; I work for it."
"You play with your food."
"You never complained before."
"Oh, stop that."
"What?"
"Grinning like a buffoon."
"I wasn\'t. Is a buffoon an animal, d\'you think?"
"And speak English."
"Why?"
"Oh I don\'t know...how about because I\'d like you to?"
"No need to get testy."
"Then don\'t mock me."
"I\'m not. I\'m mocking your choice of eating habits."
"You go your way; I go mine."
"You\'re a masochist."
"A what?"
"You heard me."
"Why?"
"Because you get so close... but you dare not touch. Well, with anything fatal, anyway."
"Wyl," Kerr exploded, coming to a sudden stop and whirling the minor to face him, "why are you here?"
"I just... want to see," he pouted, looking cutely up at his guardian as he shoved ringlets out of his eyes with a fat hand - the one not being crushed by its temperamental captor.
"You\'ve seen enough!"
"Haven\'t!"
"Don\'t be childish," the adult spat.
"I am a child," the boy responded viperishly.
Kerr pressed his lips together, recognising that he was being taunted but thoroughly baffled by the behaviour. They had spent decades working through the grief of the adulthood that would never be Sawyl\'s; Kerr felt the anguish of it as keenly as his beloved, it only hurt him to be reminded of his luck and the child\'s horrific circumstances anew. Why did he want to hurt him? He couldn\'t possibly fathom the motivation, but he guessed it was something to do with Mandy... he just didn\'t know if it was Sawyl\'s trademark curiosity pushing him to such waspish lengths, or something far more sinister.
"Love, I..." he began, falling to his knees in his very expensive navy blue suit, cupping the chubby, dimpled cheeks in both hands - until the cherubic face was eclipsed by a glower of anger so purely hateful that he froze.
"Don\'t patronise me!"
"I\'m not, I -"
"You what? You\'re sorry? Just forget it!" he cried, grasping the wrists near his jaw and wreching the large hands away voilently. Kerr had no strength to truly fight him, anyway; not now. "Just go and get yourself a feed before you see her; wouldn\'t want to lose the illusion, would you?" he snarled furiously.
"Is that what is upsetting you? That I haven\'t told her?"
"She\'s nothing! A food source; you\'re embarrassing yourself!" he sneered cruelly. His beautiful blue eyes were squinted, his angelic face contorted with rage as he glared nastily into the bewildered, brown-eyed gaze before him.
"Why do you hate her so?" Kerr beseeched, his own expression distorted with sadness.
"It\'s not her I hate!" Sawyl yelled and, with a final, damning curl of his lip, he ran away as fast as his powerful little legs could carry him.
Kerr could only watch him go, feeling utterly crestfallen... until it occurred to him that there\'d been no tears. When Sawyl was truly upset, he lost control of himself in nearly every way possible. There were always tears and very likely mental anguish and pain that lasted a night (sometimes two). Lasted in the minds of those around him, anyway. Despite the yelling and the self-deprecating references, Sawyl wasn\'t yet at the end of his short tether; he was testing Kerr. Was he, perhaps, afraid of where Kerr\'s loyalties lay? It was a ridiculous notion
 
Really? Sure about that? Wyl\'s been playing it awfully fast and loose since he came to the nameless city... was gone a week, even. That seem like the type of trust you\'ve always had? Worthy of devotion?
 
because nothing would come between he and his best friend. His constant companion. His beloved.
 
Would it?
 
Frowning, Kerr got to his feet, brushing off the knees of his suit and hastening to Risk. The sun had been gone barely half an hour - the expensive watch on his left wrist had been a late addition to his outfit, so as not to repeat the events of the night before, and it said that the time was precisely 6:31pm - but he wanted to allow himself time at the club. He had a plan.
 
The bouncers gave him a disapproving glare as he passed them, reminding him that the last time he\'d been here, he\'d rescued Mandy and left in such a flutter of nervousness that he\'d commanded them pretty harshly not to let her in again, without him. Their looks now seemed to gloat in the fact that he was alone and had nothing to invade their minds about. His gaze lowered appropriately as he brushed past them.
 
The club had a few patrons, but it was empty enough that Soundgarden\'s plaintive request for a black hole sun to come and wash away their pain seemed all the more loud and poignant for the lack of bodies pressed together on the dance floor, soaking up the volume. Kerr looked around, hopeful that someone clean and warm would miraculously realise that he was in need of a neck to suck and approach him, but not deluded enough to waste too much energy on willing it to happen. He swung a leg over a stool at the bar - his cane left at home for once - and ordered a warm glass of blood (not too large, just in case that offer came his way).

[Trillian]

[ooc] Throwing in what could be a disposable charrie or a new one, depending on how this one goes, testing the waters [/ooc]
 
He\'d been told about Them. He\'d laughed about it, had entered the club on a dare, been told to watch. He\'d learned about Them.
 
It had taken him weeks to work up the courage to return, been told that being drunk from was better than any drug, that they could heal again with a quick nip of their own skin, a drip of their own blood, could make the scar disappear like magic. Of course he\'d been afraid, so afraid, but he\'d used to love Them, idolise Them, wanted to be one of Them. Such a worship didn\'t go away upon finding out They were real.
 
He was here again, surrounded by Them, keeping his hoodie up because he was scared of being beckoned. So far, with lack of eye contact, he\'d managed not to draw attention. Tonight was the night though, he\'d worked up the courage, he would let Them take blood from him, he would find out what was so good that had his friends so eager for it that they sometimes offered their bodies along with their blood.
 
Swallowing and feeling the dry lump in his throat he headed for the bar, ordering a glass of water and purposefully choosing a seat next to someone else. Maybe he was one of Them, maybe he was more like himself, whatever. He had to look and see, but after the water, after his heartrate slowed to a pulse that beat triple time beyond what the song offered.
 
Licking his lips he swallowed three gulping mouthfuls and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. Red lips, naturally coloured in a way that made people comment. He didn\'t bite at them, or put on lipstick, they were simply that way. He\'d been taunted in school, but not so much now. Girls squealed over them, wanted to have them, desired to have him press his lips against theirs - perhaps to see if the colour would exchange between them. Silly thoughts, dear god, dear god, why was he here?
 
And now he glanced up, light blue eyes that pierced the gloom and stared into the face of the man beside him. A man? One of Them? He wasn\'t really sure, he couldn\'t tell in this light. He swallowed again, it was easier now, the water helped. He listened to his heartbeat race and opened his rosy-coloured lips to utter a single word: "Hello."
 
It sounded so much calmer than he\'d felt, he was surprised. In the middle of being surprised, he snatched down his hoodie to reveal a mop of sandy blonde hair, streaked gold by a dye-job and the sun, needing a haircut.
 
How does one ask if someone is one of Them?
 
"Are you... you know... " he glanced away for a moment before returning his gaze to the man(?) beside him. "One of Them?"
 
His mouth had obviously not strayed far from his thoughts and even though inwardly he cringed at how idiotic he sounded, he kept his stare fixed on the fellow beside him. He wanted to know. He looked like he wanted to know.

[Existentially Odd]

Them. Hmmm. For a brief moment, Kerr considered that he was being asked about something far more steeped in conspiracy or intrigue than whether he was supernatural or not - though what it could be, had honestly had no idea - but he could smell fear emanating from the mortal. It then occurred to him that he could be being asked about whether he was someone in particular, an Oligarch perhaps, and that gave him pause. He frowned apologetically at the young man, realising he would have to admit his ignorance.

"One of who?" he asked, his voice considerately lowered as he leaned toward the mortal. The way his eyes darted about, the nervous aura of him; Kerr expected to be assailed by cloaked demons any second (and his mind was in turmoil enough to spring to life and carry that image merrily further). He gripped his glass of blood slightly tighter, convincing himself by sense alone that he had something to be wary of.

[Trillian]

The subtle movement of the man\'s hand around the glass drew his attention and he found his stare locked upon it. Red Stuff. Bloody mary. At this bar? Oh. Fuck. He was one of Them. Swallowing again, perhaps swallowing his fear, one big solid lump that moved down his throat and seemed to stay in his chest, joining with the thud-thud-thud of his heart as though it wanted to suffocate the noise - perhaps clog up his heart and make it stop.
 
What. The. Fuck. He was thinking the most insane thoughts. He ripped his gaze from the glass and back to the man\'s eyes again. He didn\'t know whether to bow his head in obediant loyalty or re-address him as though his original question (and question in reply) had not been voiced. That would be bad, don\'t upset him, he\'s a Him, one of Them, one of Those that can offer you... so... much.
 
He shook his head, a little too vigorously perhaps, did he look insane? Crazy? He wondered if he looked like he was high. He didn\'t like drugs though, the promise of \'donating blood\' hadn\'t drawn him because of the likeneness to drugs however, as had been promised. It was the opportunities it gave. Give to Them, befriend Them, become one of Them.
 
Or die trying.
 
That was the Risk though, wasn\'t it? That was this club. That was the promise it gave. He wanted to be marked, but he needed to be known, he needed the club owner to see that he was doing a good job, he needed to be protected. But first he had to take the Risk.
 
"A vampire," he said simply, suddenly, amazing himself at his own audacity. Why did he sound so together when inside he felt frazzled? He\'d read They could read minds, turn into bats, not be seen in mirrors. He could see this man in the mirror opposite the bar though, so that was bogus. What was legend and what was truth? "You\'ve come here to drink from a glass?"
 
He couldn\'t rip his stare from the other\'s eyes, couldn\'t look away. Was he being mesmerized or was he mesmerising himself? He was often told he stared people down, that his eyes were intense, that he appeared to look through people\'s souls. It was just his eye colour, too light he thought, but some people liked them, some people liked him because of them. Shallow, yes, but he was used it.
 
His desire outweighed his fear, for now.

[Existentially Odd]

"Oh," Kerr uttered blandly, his paranoia melting instantly away.  The kid had been making him nervous, but for what? For information. Since it was personal information, Kerr would give freely. His shoulders lost their tension as his gaze fell to the glass now cradled in his hands. It embarrassed him somewhat, now that the mortal had said it like that; but dare he share the truth of his own ineptitude when it came to \'hooking up\', as it were?

He cleared his throat and gave the glass a fast little rotation, causing the liquid within to swirl and coat the inner surface in an undulating layer of red that became slowly more translucent as gravity won the battle over centrifugal force. He looked back at the piercing gaze that was boring into his and he gave a slight smile. Not enough to show the fangs that had emerged as soon as he\'d taken his first swig of blood -they weren\'t fully extended but... aware might be the word for their position - but a grin shy enough to (hopefully) put the stranger at ease.

"Well. Yes, I am a vampire," he answered, briefly considering offering the extra information of his age and origins. His lilting accent would do as far as that urge went, however; it wan\'t like he was giving some interview or needed to give qualifications to prove his claim. The thought turned the smile on his lips wry, and he lifted the glass slightly to indicate that it was the object about which he spoke as he said: "As for this, sometimes it\'s the easiest way in here. You never know who you\'ll meet; I\'m fairly particular who I... uh... well, I don\'t like smokers or users or anything odd. And it\'s more difficult than you realise to find someone clean and sober, at times. So I take what\'s convenient until such time as I decide to pursue... other avenues."

His head tilted back and he looked down at the boy more shrewdly now, eyes half-lidded in his sudden appraisal. It had been a stupid thing of him to say - more difficult than you realise - but it set him to thinking nevertheless. Maybe this newcomer was as new to the process as Kerr was (or maybe just as awkward at it), and there\'d been more motivating his query than mere curiosity. Perhaps he intended to offer himself. With a flicker of his eyes, he took in the boy\'s appearance more carefully; he looked relatively wholesome... perhaps this was how it was done, after all?  A warm rush flowed through him at the thought of a proper feeding at long last.

[Trillian]

When he saw the smile he didn\'t know whether to relax or freak out, but his body took over from his addled mind and smiled in return, though it was halting and tight, soon disappearing off his face.
 
Vampire.
 
He said, he said the word, the man that was not a man said the word.  The accent didn\'t hide it, nor lull it, it seemed to make the word more real, more there.  He blinked at the other, one of Them, the Vampire, a slow blink that broke the spell he\'d wound around himself.  The tip of his tongue darted out to wet his lips and then withdrew as quickly as it had reappeared.
 
He felt old, like his bones were suddenly brittle, like a robot that needed oiling. He felt like if he moved he would start creaking.  His breathing sounded too loud for his ears, he could hear it above the loud pulse of music.  Was that even possible?  His ears twitched as he consciously thought about them, a small pull of the muscles that was an uncontrollable movement.
 
"I don\'t smoke, or do drugs," he confessed, but frowned and immediately reiterated.  "Lately.  I\'ve tried... a long time ago.  Last year," he shook his head, closed his eyes and found himself now looking at the glass of red liquid in the vampire\'s hands.  He fixated on it as he continued speaking, his mouth feeling more dry with every word.  "I tried something, last year, didn\'t like it, I didn\'t repeat."
 
His gaze lifted, seemed to scroll an entire dimension as it climbed the vampire\'s sleeves and up the arms to the shoulder, then his face, a thoughtful face, a human face, one that he might not have paid attention to in the street, when late night shopping.
 
"I haven\'t had a drink," he said, his glass of water forgotten at his elbow.  When had he turned around to look at the vampire directly?  When had his body repositioned itself on his stool so that he was gazing deeply into this vampire\'s eyes as though he was his saviour?  He was a Follower, he knew this, he\'d always adored Them, worshipped Them, wanted Them to be real.
 
This didn\'t feel real, he was too controlled, his speech too deliberate, his words too manipulative.  He was steering the conversation in a direction his mind wanted but hadn\'t planned.  Licking his lips again he could still feel his accelerated heartbeat, the quick breath in his own ears.  Could this man read his mind?  Would he know the demented path it was taking that betrayed his semi-cool exterior.  He had to know, he had to!  He was one of Them.  They didn\'t miss anything.
 
Please.  Please give me what I want.

[Existentially Odd]

Like a security light had sprung to life and illuminated the driveway of an expensive home, the way was suddenly clear and safe, to Kerr. He took a moment to smile reassuringly at the boy, then turned to drain his glass. The mortal had as good as volunteered to be drunk from, but he wouldn\'t want to lose his life (nor would Kerr demand such a price from someone who had met his high standards at last) and the vampire was suddenly ravenous. Best to finish the drink he\'d started, to ensure the mortal\'s safety, and allow the top-up of fresh blood to sate him.

He swivelled on his stool, one of his suit-clad legs dipping down and then rapidly reappearing between the mortal\'s as he swung, their legs straddling one another in a position almost as intimate as the one they were about to undertake... assuming Kerr was reading the body language of rapid breathing, racing pulse and glazed eyes correctly. His lips twisted slightly and his head leaned to the side as he realised he should be certain. It was a necessary courtesy.

He reached out slowly - expecting the boy to flinch - and gently touched the stranger\'s neck. He brushed aside unkempt strands of gold on first one side, then the other, in order to press the pads of his cool fingers against the hot flesh there. Not only was the youth in a warm jumper, he had himself worked to a frazzle; by touching the place he might soon bite, Kerr wanted him to feel that the area was already broached, to a degree. To make the piercing less shocking.

"I\'m Kerr," he crooned, cupping the left side of the mortal\'s neck firmly in his right hand, before it dropped back to his knee. A name was part of the courtesy, surely? He was grateful enough at the prospect of a donor, that he felt it was the least he could offer. His smile remained, also. "I take it this is the first time you\'ve offered yourself to be fed from?" No sense sugar-coating it when he wanted to be sure they were on the same wavelength. Subtly, he glanced around the club as he listened for the youngster\'s response, intending on leading him to one of the booths they had here - somewhere as dark and private as possible for their first time - as soon as he had confirmation that the mortal was willing. His gaze took in the position of the boy\'s hand, too, so that the leading would not be awkward and their transition from bar to booth would be as smooth as possible.

[Trillian]

The vampire smiled and turned away from him, causing him to blink several times in quick succession before the surprise at watching the other drinking blood in front of him faded away.  It was like his surprise had been the glass of blood itself, and with every gulp it drained away.  Strange, how as the offensive liquid was taken out of sight it had less of an effect on him.
 
He didn\'t dare swallow, thinking his imagination would transfer the taste of blood into his own mouth, but now he needed to cough.  He had the oddest prediction that when the Vampire turned around again, his face would be half covered in blood like in the movies.  It was stupid of course, for unless he\'d missed his mouth entirely, the drinking would be tidy.  Would it be as tidy from him?  From his neck?  The urge to cough persisted.  He cleared his throat as the vampire\'s next move was to turn back to him, a leg snaked between his own.
 
Wide eyed and far from innocent, he found himself closed-mouthed and marvelling that his thoughts were clearing from the jumbled mess they\'d been at the beginning, and transforming into something that was processing every single little detail as it happened and burning it into his memory.
 
A reaching hand was not something he shied from, the speed of it\'s approach was obvious in its attempt not to scare him.  He kept perfectly still, not wishing to shy away and send the opposite signal that he\'d intentionally given until now.  The awkward introduction was passed, it was up to the vampire now whether he wished to accept the offer.
 
He.  Him.  They.  Them.  He felt like all eyes were watching their interactions.  He felt like the bar was in the middle of the stage and everyone in the audience was holding their breath to see what would happen next.  But it wasn\'t them, it was him, he was holding his breath.  He released it as the icy pads of the vampire\'s fingers connected with his neck, brushing knuckles as his hair was toyed with and adjusted.
 
Kerr.
 
He had a name, an unusual but acceptable name to match his accent.  It was a soft accent, and this was something else that calmed him.
 
"Ben," he said in reply, not really able to mouth a sentence around his name because of the chills that ran down his spine, making him squirm a little despite not wishing to, causing his light blue eyes to close very slowly and open again, a lash falling upon his cheek.  Make a wish, but it was already granted.  He had the attention of one of Them.  A deal was being struck, and done better than simply signed in blood.
 
At the question he nodded, just once, the hand upon his neck would register this movement, his cheeks flushing with the recognition and acknowledgement of his inexperience at such a thing.  He felt like blustering the reason why he was choosing to give himself now, but he couldn\'t think of one.  He just had to.  It was a stupid reason, but it was all he had.
 
When Kerr looked around the club Ben continued to watch him, not wanting to look in case his eyes met with someone else.  He didn\'t know how he would react if he really was being watched.  He half-believed he would back off and run away.  He had to stay focussed, he had to go through with this, he was so very close.
 
And he was still scared.  Funny, he thought he was over that fear.  But Kerr terrified him, the unknown terrified him.  The vampire seemed nice, but this was a place that was dangerous for his kind.  Would it hurt?  Would it feel good?  Would it be both?  He wasn\'t really into pleasure and pain.  How would Kerr go about it?  Would it happen here?  Everything was obvious and in the open, would it be more like a kiss or closer to sex?  Was it like that at all?  Would he be entranced?
 
He studied Kerr as though he would have to draw up one of those criminology create-a-face puzzles.

[Existentially Odd]

Kerr had sighted exactly where he wished to go. He took Ben\'s hand and stepped off his stool in one smooth motion, smiling quite shyly down at his mortal companion (who still looked like he might tuck his tail between his legs and run at any second, despite committing himself to the act) as he began to lead him towards the entrance.

The ground floor was a pattern of concentric circles leading up to the alter-like centrepiece of a hardwood dancefloor, panelled with random squares of strong plastic that had coloured lights shooting upward through them. This raised area was surrounded by a ripple of booths - it was large enough to serve as a stage, at eye level when standing at the bar and flamboyant beneath the heavy racks of flashing lighting and enormous speakers. The pattern repeated in various ways around the attention-grabbing central platform and its ring of adoring booths, in expansive swirls of walkways, steps, plastic floor panels covering pulsing lights, mini dance floors and rounded booths. There were a few exotically-attired dancers floating about the middle of the room, gyrating suggestively against one another or merely lounging about laughing and chatting (yelling). This swirling sea of pounding rhythm and erratic lighting was not what Kerr had in mind at all.

Almost hidden behind the stairs that curled gregariously up to the exclusive second floor (the elaborately bannistered staircase spanned the entire curve of the back half of the room, with two landings for viewing - or dancing for maximum attention - placed strategically along it) was a corridor, of sorts. There were columns placed at regular intervals from near the entrance side of the bar, all around to the far side, whose job it was to support the Topaz Lounge. Behind those decorated pillars and beneath the VIP overhang was a darkened walkway, off which were numerous little rooms. Though their side and back walls were solid, they were open at the front, the illusion of privacy offered by the presence of ceiling-to-floor curtains of varying shades - but all of the same basic opacity; sheer.

This was where Kerr headed with his prize, his grip on the boy gentle but commanding. He liked the way Ben pressed against him as he strode, almost as if he was worried that he would be spotted by someone, or get lost somehow, in the relatively sparse crowd. Kerr passed two rooms and settled on the third - one had been occupied and the second had been strewn only with huge cushions. The third had a round, blue velvet booth with a small table in front of it, holding the flickering candle that was a mainstay in every room (for how else was a distracted couple going to know if a room with no door was occupied but by a subtle light that shone through the gossamer curtain... showing just enough to entice, but no real details?).

He swept through the thin material and sat Ben down on his right - finding this the most comfortable feeding position for him - admiring the boy\'s handsome features in the subdued lighting. His smile became even more bashful - never had he endeavoured to take such care with a victim... donor... before.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked softly, his gaze drawn irrevocably to that smooth throat.

[Trillian]

As his hand was taken he became pliant, controllable, following along as though he were a child in a supermarket, overwhelmed by the colours of random product surrounding him.  Risk was really not much different, the metaphor suited.
 
His fingers curled around Kerr\'s and he walked very closely.  Should the vampire have stopped, he would\'ve pressed into him with the momentum of movement.  Kerr didn\'t stop however, or slow, until he got to his destination.
 
Ben found Kerr\'s fingers weren\'t as cold to the touch against his palm.  Perhaps it was the sensitivity of skin, or it could be the blood that he\'d drunk already.
 
As he was lowered to sit beside Kerr and the moment of their planned bond drew closer, Ben began to feel trapped in the situation he\'d created for himself.  His mouth ran dry, his heartrate seemed to skip a few beats (and if he\'d thought it was accelerated before, he\'d known nothing), his breathing had heightened to the point where he was half-panting.  A dry mouth sucking in lots of air tickled his throat again and he raised a fist over his lips to cough into it.  Those lips were soon swiped by his tongue quickly, and he found himself looking at Kerr for 1 every 3 seconds.  The table was getting most of his attention at the moment.
 
"I\'ve..."
 
He\'d what?  More useless words to confirm what Kerr already knew?  He\'d never done this before, he\'d not expected things to go so quickly... it was rhetorical, whatever it was.
 
He shook his head, indicating he didn\'t wish to pursue his sentence.  Kerr\'s eyes felt warm upon him, and he matched that gaze with his pale stare.

[Existentially Odd]

Kerr was torn between feeling sympathetic towards Ben\'s anxiety - wanting to go and get him some water or something else to calm him down - or simply get on with it so that the mortal could overcome his fear by having the auspicious occasion pass as quickly into his history as was possible. In the end, his demon side won out and he went with plan B; get it over and done with. He was too aroused by the prospect of that pounding heart pushing blood down his throat to resist any longer, anyway.

He began with a very deliberate plan, in the least intimidating position that he could contemplate, but as soon as his fangs pierced the virgin flesh of his donor, Kerr\'s logical progression unravelled rapidly. He\'d moved as a blur, not wishing to give Ben too much time to process his fear before the sensation kicked in; his right arm sliding along the high back of their curved seat to grip the youth\'s shoulder and his face nuzzling for the vein at his throat. He\'d rolled over slightly on his right thigh, in order to bend down to the shorter man\'s neck, left leg planted for balance.

The heartbeat... strong and fast, just as I like it... rushing... but not with fear of the unknown, not this time. Fear of the known, but of the inexperienced. The unordained. Interesting. Still... essentially irrelevant; it\'s all just fear and adrenalin in the end.

His lips tingled as they contacted that vertical line of heat, his tongue flattening along it lasciviously, the stud within the muscle not much warmer for being held within a mouth. His aching canines grew at the imminence of sustenance being given, and though he tried his damndest to relish the moment - to move his tongue tip and lips up and down a little in as comforting a gesture as he could attempt at that moment - he couldn\'t wait. His need was too large, the solution too close, and he bit.

Sweet, hot power flooded into him, lighting and quenching fires of need simultaneously as it ran down his throat like a river of warm silk, stroking him in places that nothing else ever could, in ways that set his mind swirling and his senses zinging. Restraint was lost in the first few mouthsful, his left leg sliding over Ben\'s and landing with his knee pressed to the boy\'s crotch, his other hand moving up the other side of his neck and sculpting his face before twining reverently in his hair. With gentle force did he hold the boy to him, his large frame pressed firmly against that of the mortal\'s

close... am I too close?  He\'ll think I\'m gonna\' drain him... ah fuck... he\'ll see...

as he hovered above and drew with the pulse of that feverish heart.  The one thing he was aware of was how much he was taking; he was aiming for a third of what Ben could give in total. That shouldn\'t leave him too badly off, and there was the lounge downstairs for replenishing lost energy. He\'d be fine, Kerr would be fine, the entire fucking world would be fine at this rate, with this sweet nectar to sustain it...

[Trillian]

With a small movement forward while Ben sat still with surprise as he knew what was about to happen, the train of events happened quickly yet slowly enough for him to process what was going on.
 
His lips had time to part slightly and he drew sharp breath as Kerr\'s mouth pressed against his neck.  He shifted slightly, moving so that his shoulder would not be in the vampire\'s way - accomodating him.
 
He\'ll bite. Will it hurt? Will I cry out? Will it be painful all the way through? Will I feel sick?  Will I faint?  Will I die?
 
The last thought broke off and spiralled away into the depths of his mind where his biggest fear lurked, so it could poke and prod at it every now and then at the very back.  He hid it with thoughts on top, processing the sensations he was feeling.
 
An arm around him kept him close and halted any movements away he might make.  It was both comforting and threatening.  He felt the tongue stud and at first thought it was a tooth because he was expecting to feel fangs.  It took him a confused moment to realise that it was in Kerr\'s tongue and therefore it could only be metal.  The beginnings of a nuzzling kiss against his neck could be felt and Ben wondered if vampires were considered sexual beings because they did sexual things when they drank or--
 
There was no time to finish that thought before the bite came into play.  There was pain, and it was as sharp as the fangs that bit into him, but then it seemed to fade and he was feeling a bit dazed by everything that was taking place.  Was this what his friends had been talking about?  Did vampires have drugs in their fangs that they injected even while they bit?  If so, it wasn\'t very strong, Ben was completely aware of everything that was happening to him - but now no longer fearful of the unknown.  He\'d been bit, and it hurt, but now it didn\'t.  His heart still raced though, though now it was more akin to going through with something scary - like a fast ride at a theme park.  Oh, but this was more personal, wasn\'t it?
 
To prove the point to his unspoken question, when Kerr moved to place a leg between his, Ben shifted again, spreading his legs a little further so that the weight of Kerr\'s knee could support itself on the bit of cushioned seat rather than upon his thighs.  It had a two fold effect - with his knee right against his crotch, he could feel a pressure there that matched the one at his neck - also a sensitive area.
 
As Kerr drank, Ben could hear small sounds that had to be made by himself rather than Kerr whose mouth was occupied.  Those sounds of sighs and small grunts and groans were the same as when he had sex.  Half-disturbed by this knowledge, he raised a hand and found himself clutching at the back of Kerr\'s shirt.  He didn\'t know if he\'d meant to pull the vampire away but he was actually squeezing the material in a fist in a somewhat rhythmic pattern - to match Kerr\'s swallows?  He thought so, wasn\'t sure.
 
Twitching.  My God am I being aroused?  Strangely, it didn\'t embarrass him for his mind had already moved onto other things.  This must be what was meant by being entranced while being drunk from.  The fact that nothing seemed to bother him - things that ordinarily would.  His other came up to rest on Kerr\'s side, and it travelled up and then down, feeling the cold but warming torso beneath his shirt.  It was a fascinating sensation, just like the feeling of being light-headed.  Was that because of lack of blood?
 
Both hands paused in their movements, and his heart rate seemed to hop a little with that thought.  He felt okay, he really did, he felt better than okay, but his thoughts were rambling, was that a bad sign?  How could he tell though, because his thoughts always rambled?  Was his personality going to be his downfall?
 
He wanted to say something, but released a soft groan instead.  Ah damn, he could feel his full arousal pressing against Kerr\'s leg.  Was this normal?  Would the vampire think he was a freak?  "Normal?" he uttered thickly, wanting to ask if everything was okay.

[Existentially Odd]

Normal?  Huh?

He registered the word but didn\'t feel it was worthy of acknowledgement - not with the conclusion to their rapturous little embrace looming. Just a few more swallows, and he would be content, he would answer anything Ben wished to ask him, he would give him anything he requested, just... in a little bit...

The boy\'s heart was strong, his rhythmic movements intoxicating as he gave, bleeding into the ravenous beast that lashed within Kerr as the carnal act pushed him higher. Harder. He felt invincible, incredible. The smell of Ben, the feel of him clutching beneath his jacket at his fine silk shirt, the heat of him burning through the thin material as if it weren\'t even there, those erotic little grunts of almost bewildered excitement, drove him to distraction, his mouth working the wound beneath his mouth with the strength of a hungry vortex.

His right hand took over where his left had been, curling around to press the young man\'s throat towards him, his left hand running down, feverishly roving across the broad chest, the stomach, squeezing the bulge of his erection a few times, wanting to share the beauty, the incomparable rush of the moment, needing the mortal to have an inkling of just how sweet it was to surrender to the demon of hunger and lose himself in the giving, but come out with the sensation of victory screaming like lightning through his veins afterward. His hands returned to their former positions, Kerr\'s chest brushing lightly against Ben\'s shoulder as he readjusted slightly, his abdomen suspended above his lap, almost like he was holding himself back.

But this was not sexual pleasure for Kerr, this was something far more primal, and his extremities could not hope to portray the inner thrill of the compulsive act he was participating in. He didn\'t wonder at the mortal\'s excitement at all, for he felt it too, in a black, roiling place at his core; he just didn\'t show it.

And then he knew it was time, and he allowed the present to filter slowly into awareness. The boy was still hard against his leg and he allowed a smile at his throat, his lips worshipping the tender flesh gratefully. In a practised move, he bit his own lower lip and pressed the soft, torn skin against the sizeable holes he\'d left there, still stroking with his tongue and lapping up any liquid that escaped during the closing-over process.

His grip on Ben\'s hair loosened, his fingers combing through the tresses a couple of times before lowering to caress his cheek, grip his shoulder. Like a lover, he cradled the boy\'s head, straddling his thigh, muscular body pressed heavily to likewise. He lowered himself gracefully when he was sure there would be no loss of blood from the newly-corrupted vein, skimming his leg languorously across the other\'s firm thigh as he flopped back. His right leg was crooked beneath him, right arm still across the seat back. Kerr\'s thumb gently massaged the place where his mouth had been as his long fingers remained splayed across Ben\'s nape. His head lolled against the round of his shoulder as he watched the blonde, a sexy little grin of complete satisfaction lifting one corner of his mouth.

"Pardon?" he asked thickly, his accent noticeable on the rolling \'r\' as fulfilment pulsed sweetly through him, making him feel as if he were glowing on the inside. No glass of blood - warmed or no - could ever match the sensation of connecting so intimately with the flame of life throbbing through a living creature. His brown eyes were glassy with satisfaction as he watched hrough his lashes for his partner\'s reaction.

[Trillian]

Kerr didn\'t reply, but soon enough his hand was floating down Ben\'s chest and upon the arousal that the youth had been so worried about.  It didn\'t matter if such a thing was normal, did it?  Kerr obviously approved.  The sensation of fingers clutching upon him there while in the middle of that warm numb feeling of giving blood... was strangely and pleasantly erotic.  For Kerr it was more, but Ben could only feel the sexual side, dazed and compliant.  Too soon that hand moved away, and Ben mourned its loss.  How odd that he would be so willing to have this stranger touching him so intimately.  He was usually choosy about who did what with him, and when they were allowed to.  He\'d made his choice with Kerr though, and so the experience was not held back because of prior restrictions.
 
He felt like he was floating for some time before Kerr wound down, settling him with each deliberate action which was a step further to ending their union.  Being held closely helped him to realise that he\'d chosen wisely in Kerr.  Or was that luckily?  He still felt in awe of him, the vampire that had drunk from him, that he\'d let touch him and continue to touch him in ways that he normally shied from.  Quick romances were not his thing, pleasure seeking nights was usually just a dance or two.  He didn\'t like the shallow world of meeting someone, sharing his self and then never seeing them again.
 
He didn\'t intend on tonight being the same way either - but not because he had any romantic interest in Kerr.  He realised that in a way he was selling himself, because all of this was done for an experience, towards an opportunity. He\'d been so scared, so paranoid, his decision to go through with this had ended so well that he hadn\'t dared even dreamt something like this - to be held in the arms of a vampire that seemed to give a shit about how he felt.  He\'d figured a lot of Them would be heartless to mortality, would eventually feel as though humankind were no better than cattle.  Kerr, however, had not lost his humanity.  He was, once, a man.
 
At the prompt, Ben took a moment to respond, his glazed eyes fixed on Kerr as words rose to the occassion.  "I thought it would be intimate but didn\'t know it was like that," he said, and smiled through a blush that crept upon his cheeks.  Kerr liked him, he knew this, and he hoped that this like meant he was attracted to him - the touch upon his now-shrinking erection had been evidence of the face (so Ben hoped).
 
And now, he spoke closer to the real reason why all of this had begun.  Why he\'d listened to his friends about taking the risk.  Why he wanted to get close to one of Them.
 
"Have you ever sired anyone?"
 
The question was blatent.

[Existentially Odd]

Groggily, the elder frowned, not quite able to connect the question with Ben\'s former one, in his stupour. Did \'normal?\' have anything to do with siring someone? Had he missed something? He took a breath and exhaled it in the manner of a sigh, wanting the boy to remain undisturbed by him not breathing. It was an innocent enough request, and there was no reason for Kerr to deny him an answer, when he had given so generously.

"Mmm, yes," he drawled, his euphoric thoughts wishing to stay the hell away from the foul bitches he\'d had a hand in creating.  No, he would not think about them right now. "Once. Never again!" he chuckled, deciding that he should sit up and look a little more interested in his companion. Lethargically, he moved his leg out from under himself, his feet now both planted on the floor, though at vastly different angles. There, that would do for effort, for the time being.

"D\'you feel alright? Not too dizzy? There\'s a section downstairs y\'know... has some sweeties to help pep you up if you\'re feeling a little lightheaded," he offered, the vision of him gallantly carrying the not-so-frail blonde downstairs appearing in his mind\'s eye and causing him great amusement. All that showed on the outside was a smile, however.