Single Handedly

[Trillian]

He didn't mind sharing a drink; his fledgeling felt like he was crawling up the walls with his hunger. Lazarus, in a rare act of selflessness, only took a few swallows of Elisio's blood and backed away after healing the puncture wounds with a trickle of his own blood, drawn from a bit lip. He'd been intending on having Matteo drink from the wound he'd created instead of his uccellino making a messy, shitty version of his own, but they had to start somewhere. Lazarus sensed their victim was properly in shock now - there were no muffled cries against Lazarus' arm. He tentatively took it away and found the young man's face wet with tears and snot. Gross.

Lazarus kept the mortal pinned to the wall with a hand upon his chest to determine his heartbeat. After sitting for three and a half fucking hours watching Kate's body burn he had no desire (or time) to do it again. He watched Matteo more than he concentrated on Elisio. The way the mortal drew on his friend with greed.

"Slow it down," Lazarus instructed. "Learn to savour it. The craving will lessen if the feeding lasts longer." He didn't know why it worked that way - perhaps it was mind over matter, but he remembered how all of his fledglings had benefitted from it. "Three more swallows then finish."

He thought Elisio could handle more but he also doubted Matteo would finish in three swallows either. It was a way of testing his uccellino's willpower.

[suneater]

Nothing mattered but the flow of blood- past his lips, down his throat. Euphoria suffused him as he drank. His gulps were syncopated with Elisio's heartbeat, just a half-second off- enough time for the pumping blood to reach the wound and then his ready mouth. His fingers gripped the older boy's shirt like iron talons. When Lazzaro broke off, Matteo shifted without spilling a drop, taking up more space. He still had to stand on the balls of his feet and lean in to reach Elisio's throat, but he had much better leverage now.

Slow it down. The words were an intrusion, felt more than they were heard. If it had been anyone else, Matteo would have been too lost in his first true feeding to hear them. From Lazzaro, though, they were undeniable. If he had not been so consumed, he might have been annoyed at the distraction. He complied, but only barely. Maybe one gulp every other heartbeat. As his feeding grew less frenzied, it did seem more enjoyable. He could feel his mouth filling, feel the muscles in his throat working, feel the waning struggles of his prey. The body he had latched onto didn't even register to him as Elisio anymore, at least not at the moment.

Three more swallows then finish.

For all the control he usually evinced with his distant superiority, Matteo had none at the moment. The command from his sire battled with his primal hunger, and his hunger seemed to be winning. There was still blood to be had. Why should he stop? The aftermath didn't occur to him. He wasn't concerned with murdering a former friend or burying a body. Still, every second he spent in defiance of Lazzaro's edict made the weight of the words heavier, like thick chains draped over his narrow shoulders. Eventually, after a full six gulps, it was too much. He fell backwards, unbalanced, stumbling into Laz. His lips were wet with blood, but he wasn't quite the mess he had been in the hall of the nest.

Elisio was another story. The ragged puncture Matteo had created began oozing blood down his neck, into his shirt. It was the sort of injury that would likely require stitches, if no supernatural fix existed. The tall, muscular young man slid down the wall, in shock. He sat on the ground of the alley with his hands around his legs, eyes glassy, bleeding. He didn't seem aware of his surroundings.

Matteo suddenly felt tired. Not full, but content. Dawn was approaching, and he'd drunk nearly his fill. He righted himself, licking the last of the blood from his lips. Slowly, awareness returned. He felt Laz behind him, saw Elisio on the ground. He frowned.

"I would have killed him if you hadn't stopped me," he said softly. There was no trace of guilt in the words, only the wonder of realization. He looked down at his fingers, which were still curved claw-like, and then relaxed them. He turned partway, presenting Lazzaro his profile, mouth now free of evidence. "What do we do with him now?"

[Trillian]

Lazarus had been just about to yank Matteo off after he'd doubled his allowed amount of swallows when his fledgeling threw himself off. Good, he could learn. Antonio hadn't stuck him with a little shit after all, though his sexual tastes leant towards the non-conformists. It was why Lazarus had graced his bed and he'd read Matteo's spark correctly in the hall. Maybe this wasn't a total loss after all.

"I heal him so he doesn't die and steal from him so it looks like a mugging," he said, bringing his hand to his mouth and biting his index finger. Bending down to their victim, he smeared his blood over the messy wounds in Elisio's neck until his finger closed up. Elisio's neck took a little longer but the wound closed up as well. This young man would live, though his muscles would ache with blood loss and fatigue. Let him think he'd taken a beating. Lazarus went through his pockets next, pushing him sideways with an elbow so he could pluck out his wallet from his back pocket. Elisio gradually righted himself as Lazarus stood and stepped back, flipping through the wallet and taking out what little cash there was. Twenty Euro. He took it and tossed the wallet onto the ground beside Elisio. "Now we leave him."

Lazarus shoved the Euro into his front pocket and then headed towards the Nido. He made sure Matteo was moving beside him before turning any corners. He would have to ask if there were any vampire clubs around or a place where groupies gathered. He doubted it, since the Nido was likely the only presence of vampires in the city. England and America were set up much better for vampires - there were underground clubs everywhere.

[suneater]

Matteo watched Lazzaro seal the wound with mild interest. Would his blood do that as well? Or was that a hallmark of Lazzaro's age? It didn't seem important to dig into at the moment. This was only the first of many feedings, and many lessons.

His chin dipped in a slight nod of approval at the mugging tactic, then fell into step with his sire. His hunger was finally... well, sated wasn't the right word, but it was diminished enough that his thoughts were clear. He frowned as a realization occurred.

"Elisio will think I set him up to be robbed." He stopped, looking back toward the alley. "Word will spread and no one in that world will trust me again." His expression darkened, a faint snarl twisting his lips. Why did it have to be Elisio he ran into, and not some random john? That would have had almost no repercussions, but this? He still felt vague allegiance to the other street-walkers and kept-boys. There were no true friendships there, but shared experience was enough to breed a sense of loyalty.

They could also be a valuable supply of blood, if things were planned properly and Elisio didn't cast suspicion upon him. As he considered it, he'd never much liked Elisio. He could be condescending, and completely unaware of his privilege. Lazzaro would feel his irritation and anxiety give way to mute, dull anger that throbbed as steadily as a health pulse.

"He'll ruin everything," he growled. His voice was quiet but carried an edge. He regarded Lazzaro for his response.

[Trillian]

The whining about Elisio and whatever the whores would think about Matteo went on too long for Lazarus' liking. Even one sentence was too much but Matteo was making connection after connection until finally there was something to reply to. His hand flashed out to the boy, grabbing him around the neck so he would pay attention. His coiled muscles pulled Matteo to his face, ignoring whatever came his way; whether his baby bird would turn into a feral cat or not.

"There's nothing to ruin. You're a fucking predator. You're in a different world now," Lazarus hissed. "Stop caring about the humans you left behind. They're nothing to you. You're no longer their friend, you are their superior. Now stop crying about how your whore friends won't look at you the same because they should look at you like you're their fucking god."

Lazarus tossed Matteo down - a bit more gentler than likely expected though he was sure the youngling would stumble. He hadn't found his grace yet, he was too busy being a powdered boy. When he accepted that he was a vampire and actualised what that really meant, he might be worthwhile.

[suneater]

He could sense Lazzaro's annoyance, but he had no hopes of anticipating the lightning lash of his arm. The boy gasped as an implacable hand closed around his throat and dragged him forward. He was completely still in Lazzaro's grasp, the image of Kate's head spinning around on a loop in his mind.

The vampire's words stirred embers of emotion in Teo's breast. Chagrin was the strongest. Lazzaro's scorn was almost a physical presence, an aura of hot glass shards raking him continuously. He felt pride as well. Lazzaro's words resonated him. He'd always been their superior. Now it was undeniably true.  Beneath that, though, was a spark of defiance. It blossomed into a small beacon as he considered his sire's denouncement. No, they were not nothing. They were food. They could easily become a sustainable source of blood, he was sure of it, and the johns connected to them as well. On that measure, at least, he knew Lazzaro was completely mistaken. Was this short-sightedness what had driven him from the nido in the first place? Had it cost him his hand?

He did not land gracefully, but he didn't stumble- he just stepped backward on his left foot to absorb the momentum Lazzaro had imparted him. He reached up to rub at his neck, scowling but holding his tongue.

"I want to go home," he said simply. He turned on his heel and marched back toward the nest, still brushing his fingers over the spot where Lazzaro's hand had gripped his flesh. The strength was terrifying, but thrilling as well. An image of Lazzaro looming over him in the dim light of their room, his fingers wrapped around Matteo's delicate throat, flashed before his mind's eye, and he couldn't help but shiver and stiffen slightly. Someday he would have strength like that, but in the meantime, he would have to use the gifts he had.

[Trillian]

Their return to the Nido went without further incident, though as they passed the courtyard Lazarus turned his head away from it, refusing to look. He buried himself into his thoughts, mostly feeling sorry for himself, and stalked behind his new fledge - a boy who he would've chosen if allowed to choose for himself... maybe. The newly made vampire reminded him too much of himself; sex-focussed, impulsive, violent.

Antonio certainly had a type.

Thinking of the leader of his new sanctuary warmed Lazarus a little, even though he'd worn the punishment of returning, he'd been allowed to return. That was something. He could feel there was a little bit of night left that he might have a chance to seek out his ex-lover and test the waters with him. Matteo put a weird twist on the situation though. Lazarus had felt the heat of the scorn when Matteo had been 'gifted' him.

He had to know more. Lazarus was in the middle of something that he didn't understand and Matteo held the keys... well, some of them, anyway. He wasn't sure that his fledgling would be so keen to share the whole truth.

He pulled out of his reverie when they returned to the Nido, more movement and sound around him as vampires were settling in for the day. Nobody looked particularly interesting to him and he smelt of smoke. He wanted to get it off himself.

"Uccellino, take me to the shower."

[suneater]

Matteo did his best to ignore Lazzaro's presence as they walked. He was initially spurred by aggravation, but that faded quickly enough and left the exercise purely academic. He wasn't sure that he could. The ancient was a singularity. He could feel his emotions bending toward Lazzaro and mutating in the psychic radiation that he (to Teo) seemed to give off. It took every shred of his willpower that he could summon not, like Orpheus, to look over his shoulder. The ineptitude of the comparison almost made him chucke. Lazzaro was no Eurydice, and they were bound for Hades, not departing it.

He diverted himself by imagining ways that he would placate Elisio. He could simply claim that he ran when they were attacked, and managed to avoid pursuit. It was well known that he was no fighter, so why would he have stayed and taken a beating? Their relationship had never been friendship. Neither of them had ever sacrificed anything for one another. He would understand. Teo would make him understand. He didn't want to alienate Elisio, not with the ripe taste of his blood still staining his memory, and he wanted to taste others, too. Boys whom he had been jealous of, boys who had been jealous of him, boys he'd never even spoken to and boys whom he'd held while they wept. The thought of so much blood made him almost light-headed, and it was only when he kicked to the surface of his own thoughts that he realized they were home.

He padded silently along ahead of Lazzaro. He was no longer merely a supplicant in this temple, but one of its acolytes. The stone corridors felt changed even though he knew it was he who had changed. A satisfied smile settled into place on his lips. He had done it. This journey would have killed or broken most, but he had reached the summit. There were more peaks to climb, but at least now he had a proper vantage point to glimpse them. His smile flickered, though, when he remembered that he would only be able to partake of the view by night.

It was Teo's turn to be tugged from reverie. Lazzaro's command might as well have been a collar and leash. He jerked to a stop, tensing, and then nodded slowly and led the way. Baby bird. It was a fitting pet name, helpless as he was, and likely meant for a gilded cage. He couldn't help but wonder if the policy regarding sire and creation was meant just for that - to reinforce, through constant exposure, the power of the emotional connection they shared. Would his will remain intact when his probation ended? Where would he begin and Lazzaro end?

He decided to let the momentum of Lazzaro's command carry him forward. Once they were in the bathing area, he quickly shucked his shirt and shorts and stepped out of his shoes. Naked and pale, he hung his clothes with effortless care and turned to face his sire with his hands on his hips. He grinned serenely, passing his hand idly over his flat stomach. "I wish we had time for a proper bath," he mused. For all his earlier turbulence, Matteo seemed to have relaxed. Being back in the familiar nido helped. He hadn't yet adjusted to his new sensory capabilities, and while the place was far from silence, it didn't present the same overload of the city streets.

His grin turned impish before he turned and moved to engage the shower head, fussing with the levers until the temperature and spray were just right.

[Trillian]

Lazarus shucked off his clothing with less care, dropping them onto the floor below where Teo hung his own. He stretched as his fledge played with the water, getting it correct for himself. Lazarus wasn't quite so bothered, he waited for another moment and then entered the stall - a little wider than usual so there was room for two, he remembered the thoughtful space of the showers, and also the communal bath somewhere around here, similar to a shallow swimming pool if he remembered correctly.

The youngling was in his way so he wrapped his arms around him, likely implying something else when his body curved deliciously close to the other, and then he stepped around, putting himself into the spray. The water hit the back of his neck until he released Teo before threading fingers through his own hair, lifting his head up and enjoying the water as it travelled over his body. Streams ran over his face and over his shoulders, following the curves of his muscle. Opening his eyes and looking at his uccellino in front of him, he wondered if he would see resentment or adoration in those eyes.

Or something else.

[suneater]

Lazzaro's touch was electricity. It raced through him, originating at the points of contact and then arcing over his nerves from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. He was frozen in place by it, as if he'd touched a live wire. A strangled, unnecessary breath escaped him when the ancient disengaged and moved past him into the shower proper. The charge died out, allowing him the freedom to sag slightly in the wake of the sudden paralysis. His cock was not hard, but it had certainly stirred. The degree to which his body was no longer his own was both awful and thrilling.

He remained where he was, watching as Lazzaro showered. His eyes followed the water cascading down the vampire almost-perfect body, catching on the stump. When Lazzaro opened his eyes, he'd find Teo staring at it, blatant and curious. He had the good grace to look upward and meet his sire's gaze. He stepped forward to get as much of himself under the water as he could given Lazzaro's position.

"What happened to your hand?" His voice was steady, but soft, almost overpowered by the hiss and splatter of the running water. He ducked his head under the spray to wet his hair. His attention remained on Laz, though. He barely expected the ancient to answer, but he had to ask. He glanced away, just enough to locate the dispenser of body wash affixed to the wall. The device was elegant and unobtrusive, the same color as the tile, and an instant later he had a palm full of creamy looking soap.

He stepped forward, asking permission with his body language; it would seem very much, from his stance, as if he was preparing to wash Lazzaro's back for him. The movements were tentative though- uncertain, almost fearful. The bond would resonate with confusion more than anything else. Teo wanted to touch him, wanted to help him, but he didn't know why.

[Trillian]

Lazarus stood in the middle of the spray, looking through the water as it cascaded over his face, at his new fledge. He stared at the boy as the boy stared at his stump. When he shifted to one side, putting the water on his shoulder, those large eyes lifted and met his own. They assessed one another until the boy spoke, breaking the spell. After a moment, Lazarus spoke, though in English.

"Never fall in love," he warned, but changed the message when speaking in Italian. "An ex-lover took it."

He didn't speak of magic swords and how his hand had turned to ash not five minutes later after he'd run away with it. He didn't mention that his ex was a tiny percentage of his age yet had managed to mentally banish him. And he didn't mention Jake by name because it was fucking humiliating and also paralysing in grief.

He watched his youngling get soap and could sense through their bond what he wanted to do. It was instinctive and a positive in the midst of a bunch of negatives. He might be stuck with this fledgeling at a time that he didn't want one at all but there was no reason not to enjoy him.

Lazarus moved fully out of the water, shouldering the shower wall inside the stall and closing his eyes, in heightened awarenss of what Teo was going to do and anticipating the boy's hands on him.

[suneater]

He worked the soap into a lather as Lazzaro gave his measured response. Teo stepped into position behind him, finally fully immersed in the spray. The boy loved water, and his transformation had not changed that. The bond would transmit as much, or at least, that he had calmed significantly as soon as the running water was washing over him.

The answer was hardly satisfactory, but he sensed he shouldn't press. Instead, he moved his soapy hands to Laz's back and had at it. He started at the small of his back and worked in small circles up his spine, using the pads of his thumbs and fingers to impart a somewhat lazy massage in the process. A faint smile touched his lips as he worked his way to his sire's shoulder blades, and which point he began sweeping the palms of his hands over the smooth planes of muscle and flesh to coat him completely.

"I was in love once," he imparted in quiet Italian. "But the world does not know what love is, and seeks to destroy it." The words were nearly matter of fact, as if it were a truth that even children knew. "I've already lost all that I will lose to love."

His hands came to rest on Lazzaro's hips, then slid down his buttocks, spreading the frothy lather he had worked up. There was nothing overtly sexual in the touch, though his fingers did occasionally brush down the crack or rub at his taint. He drew his hands to Laz's hips once more and tugged him backward gently to rinse off in the rush of water.

[Trillian]

The words satisfied something unexpected inside of him, enough that he relaxed. No misinterpretation about love here. Worship was so much easier to manage. Lazarus closed his eyes and relished the touching. He half expected the boy to press a finger inside him but nothing of the sort came. It was only after Teo didn't follow through that Lazarus identified the atmosphere between them in the shower. Sire/fledgling in its purest form.

He stepped back at Matteo's urgings and rinsed off, with the youngling's help. He was surprisingly exhausted. It had been an emotionally draining night and he wanted it dealt with. Even though he'd had every intention on finding Antonio tonight, he decided now he could wait until tomorrow. He felt drained, not himself. He wanted to be sharp when dealing with his ex-lover.

He stepped out when he was done, letting his baby bird do what he wished for himself. Through an arched doorway, Lazarus could see the small open room that was the bathhouse. Nobody was in there right now and the water wasn't steaming. He recalled his antics in that room. Fond memories.

He wrapped a towel around his hips after drying himself off. Another mortal boy entered the area and after a brief  and discreet appraisal, he moved into a different shower cubicle. Lazarus ignored him; he wasn't here to tangle with the blood boys or the hangers-on or whatever role it was they had. Once Teo was out of the shower and had a limited amount of time to dry himself, Lazarus had another command in store.

"Lead the way to our room, I want to sleep."

[suneater]

Matteo dutifully washed himself with easy, graceful motions once Lazarus was finished. Soap here and there, small hands passing over smooth flesh. He seemed to have withdrawn somewhat, letting himself have a few precious seconds with his own thoughts... at least, as much as he could with the dominating aura of his sire's feelings crashing over him like waves. Laz's lethargy enervated him. It had been quite an evening for him as well, and when the command came for him to lead the way to bed, it was a welcome one.

It didn't take much to dry his spare, hairless form. He pulled his shorts back on and bundled the rest of their garments up in his arms, offering Laz a sleepy smile before padding out of the bathing area and down the hallway that led to their shared quarters.

He slung the clothing atop their other effects and flopped himself unceremoniously onto the bed, scooting over to the edge so that there would be plenty of room for Laz to splay himself out.

"Is it different than the sleep I know?" he asked quietly, peering up at his sire. "Will I dream?"

[Trillian]

Once he arrived in the room and saw his things gathered in the corner where somebody else had put them, Lazarus closed the door and shucked off his towel, throwing it in that direction. He didn't see where it landed.

"I don't know, I don't remember," Lazarus snapped, immediately tense because of his lack of knowledge. A few of his previous fledgelings had told him their thoughts on it but he hadn't cared enough to listen or keep it in mind. When he looked down at his newest creation he thought it would be better to start fresh here, too. Maybe while learning how to use his mental talents he would learn to be a better sire as well.

He sighed and ran a brusque hand through his golden locks, finding it helped to calm him so he did it again, wanting both hands in his hair. He raised his stumpy arm because he'd forgotten... until he caught a glimpse of it moving past his face. He put his arms down and scowled. "Who cares if you dream?" he snapped. "Do you want pretend pictures when you sleep or do you want to live forever? Stop fucking complaining," he said, even though Teo had asked a question rather than complaining and Lazarus knew it.

His expression softened from anger to confusion. He'd been through a lot since leaving his home city. Making a fledge took a lot out of him and he'd made one just before running away. Murphy had been a flare in his senses until he and Kate had put distance between them. Then they'd arrived here, he'd lost Kate, was forced to make another fledge, had to bury her, and then take care of his little uccellino. Feeling sorry for himself, his expression changed again, shifting to something more placid when he crawled onto the mattress beside Matteo, moving all the way over so he could wrap an arm around the youth and draw him close. Their smells were the same, now, and he took comfort from that. In his relaxed state, he remembered something one of his previous fledges had said to him.

"Yes," he breathed over the top of Teo's hair. "There are dreams."