[PRP] Back Where We Began (Micky & Pretty Boy)

[Kinu]

Pretty Boy led Micky past the booths, through the swell of partying vampires on the dance floor, to a long hallway that was easily missed if you weren't specifically looking for it. It was somehow quieter down here, but the pulse of the music could still be easily heard, the club was designed that way. So you could hear the music no matter where you were. The only exception being inside the Elysium Room and the Apartments. A large set of double doors waited at the end, elegantly carved and sturdily set. The door was a vibrant, though appealing, teal. The carvings all along the face of both accented in silver. His arms fell to his sides as he reached out to grip one of the ornate silver handles, pulling the door open.

Soft light spilled from within, the room illuminated by beautiful chandeliers and colored strips running along the floor, casting everything in a hauntingly seductive glow. The atmosphere was calm with the main lights set low. It didnt even really seem to matter that they werent brighter as the combination of the floor/ceiling was enough to bathe the room in enough light to easily see. He moved to the bar set off against the wall to their right and leaned over the top, reaching for a glass and a bottle of... he didn't know. Probably something expensive. What was this? Lifting the bottle up he tried to decipher the label. Vodka? Maybe. With a shrug he snagged a glass. Hesitating for a moment before grabbing a second he turned to look back at Micky. "You allowed to drink on the job?"

PB leaned back against the bar, bottle in one hand and the empty glass in the other. His long hair framing his lithe, fishnet clad body, eyes still not quite meeting the Elders. He just... couldn't do it. As much as he thought the ache was gone it wasn't. He began to pour himself a drink, wanting something to take the edge off. The Jello Shots had done s**t to get him even slightly buzzed. He needed something stronger. "Anyway, what's up?" Casual, he kept it casual. No big deal. It was just business. Why else would he be here?

Seussi

 

[Seussi]

It felt so surreal. Being back here again after all of this time. He couldn't shake the odd feeling that it gave him, though a lot of that was not just from the nightclub itself. Seeing Pretty Boy again had brought on a good portion of it. The rainbow-coloured vampire had been on his mind a lot lately, more than was probably healthy, but he couldn't help it. Nor could he help how his lilac gaze was held captivated by him as he moved through the club, avoiding the dancers and revellers, the multicoloured lights playing along his body and adding a new dimension to all of the colours there.

The Brujah was practically entranced by it, and he could feel his throat constricting, his mouth becoming suddenly dry.

He had to force himself to tear his gaze away. To focus more on the club and their surroundings as they entered the hallway, where the sound was dulled but not completely absent. He followed in silence until they got to the doors at the end of the hallway, at which point he let out a low whistle.

"Very fancy. Didn't know you had it in you, Pretty Boy." He grinned good-naturedly, and then slipped in through those doors behind him, and then let them shut again after.

His gaze roamed the room next, taking it all in before Pretty Boy's voice called him to attention. He gave his shoulders a smooth rise and fall in a shrug and quirked his lips up into a slight smirk.

"As long as you say I can." He slipped a hand inside his jacket, opening it wider and flashing more of his bare chest. He appeared to be searching for something, and he suddenly pulled out a folded-up square of paper.

"Says on here that you're to use me as you wish. Me, and the Hounds as well I suppose, but they'll probably only answer to me."

Well, maybe. They might not even answer Micky.

He moved closer and held the paper out toward Pretty Boy, allowing him to take it, though it really did only say that Micky was at the other vampire's disposal, for the time being. Which, so far as the Sheriff could surmise, meant that they pretty much worked here again.

Funny how things worked out.

"Um, also though..." He paused, his stomach clenching slightly as he thought about what he wanted to say next.

"Could we maybe talk about what happened a few weeks ago? I just...I have something I want to say." He bit down on his bottom lip, lilac gaze trying to meet Pretty Boys.

Kinu

 

[Kinu]

When the door closed behind them the room became silent, completely sealed off from any club noise. Soundproofed. Pretty Boy had chuckled at the remark as they'd entered. Yeah, he didn't know he had it in him either. But he did have good taste and running a business suited him, especially one he was passionate about. He'd poured his heart, sweat, and tears into this club basically his entire unlife. Even before he owned it outright. Why? Maybe because it was consistent, it never wavered or let him down. Or maybe it was because it was the only thing that was really his, now more than ever. He had made the club, with the band, the crew, and the staff, a home. Adding the apartments had been a given. A lot of them had nowhere else to go, Pretty Boy included.

His eyes lifted as Micky moved, catching sight of his chest when he shifted his jacket. A tingle ran the length of his spine, bubbles of sensation flushing across his skin. He couldn't stop his eyes from taking in every detail, the way the low light of the room cast shadows across his body, the toned muscles of his chest and abdomen, bringing back so many times long ago when he'd run his hands along them, when he'd kissed them and.... Pretty Boy swallowed a little harder than he'd meant to. Forcing his gaze away to the paper in the Elder's hand. Trying to ignore the fact that he was closer now, wrestling with himself and the flurry of emotions he hadnt expected to surface all at once.

He glanced up at his face quickly and smirked. "I'd rather not drink alone." He extended the glass he'd poured for himself, offering it to Micky to take. Once he had, PB leaned back over the bar to snag an empty one. His torso stretched across the top, the fishnet sliding up to reveal more of his stomach and every curve of his body. His jewelry swayed again with the motion, long hair sliding across his back and over his side. Filling it, he set the bottle on the bar, resuming his casual lean against the piece of furniture while facing Micky. He took the paper, lifting the glass to his lips and savoring the burn as it slid down his throat. The hand with the note deftly opened it and began to read.

He liked Micky's version of what it said better, but this was business so he chose not to make a joke about it. Besides, they hadn't exactly ended their last convo on terms that opened them up to that kind of banter. He felt the pain again but kept his expression even, steady. He couldn't let how he felt get in the way of the club. He had people who counted on him. Even if he was still hurting inside. If he had to work with Micky and swallow the pain every night, he would. He'd do whatever it took to make it all work as smoothly as possible. He didn't want anyone being negatively affected by his personal s**t.

"Guess we're gonna have to put your a** to work then. But tell the Prince if those dogs break anything, drive away customers, or drink us dry, it's coming out of her pocket." He didn't know them, he'd probably need to, he tended to try to reserve judgment until he actually spoke to someone. But he wasn't there yet. There was time for all that. He licked his lips, realizing they felt dry all of a sudden and bit his lower lip absently while he tried to process what the hell the Prince wanted him to do with all this. His best guess was to get them all acclimated to the club. Probably have them start building relationships and trust with the staff, the crew and the band. They were going to have to work together. He raised his brows, a kind of incredulous humor slipping over his features, and exhaled sharply through his nose. ********. That was going to be fun.

But then Micky spoke again and his two toned gaze lifted, finally meeting the Brujahs. It was a mistake, because he was stuck there now. The soft glow of lilac, every beautiful curve of his face, the contour of his mouth, the genuine kindness he knew was etched into every feature. His throat tightened a bit, mouth parched. He lifted his glass again and took a sip to chase away the dryness, nodding as he did. His expression still fairly guarded but not closed off completely. "What about it?" He started, keeping the raw feeling out of his tone. He didn't want to start a fight, he didn't want to go through this again either. So he was hoping that wasn't Micky's intent. He didn't want his pity.

"Look, I don't need you to feel sorry for me. That wasn't my intention when I apologized. I can respect how you feel about it and we can just remain amicable and bury it if that's what you're worried about." His tone was even, not unkind, simply matter of fact. But he quickly realized that he was railroading him out of a wounded place, trying desperately to stay out of that dark, painful pit they seemed to have ended up in twice now. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, crumbling the paper between his fingers as he did. "Sorry, Micky. Yeah, we can talk about it. What did you want to say?" Lowering the hand again he took another drink from his glass, this time deeper, nearly emptying it.

Seussi

 

[Seussi]

The silence was a stark contrast to the way the music had thrummed through the air before, seeming to pulse in Micky's chest the way he imagined a heartbeat might have. But now it was still, so quiet that every sound seemed even louder in his ears. But then again, all of his senses felt heightened at that moment, though it was probably just his nerves making him feel that way. They coursed through his body like blood through a mortal's veins, threatening to overwhelm him as he stood alone in that room with Pretty Boy.

The space between them was eaten up by his stride, the slip of paper held at the ready to be taken. Instead, he found himself handed a drink, and he gave Pretty Boy a grateful smile, not sure the other vampire really knew just how much he needed some booze in him at that moment. He took a very long sip that seemed more like he was attempting to drain it in one go, though he was caught somewhere between choking on it and spitting it out when Pretty Boy stretched over the bar to grab himself a glass as well.

The harshness with which he swallowed down his drink left him turning his head and coughing, his eyes watering with the searing sting of hard liquor that had just gone down the wrong way. For the briefest of moments before that, he found himself with a nearly uncontrollable longing, just from the way Pretty boy moved, in a way that was lithe and incredibly sexy.

Coughing a few more times, he set his glass down on the bartop and sucked in a breath to hold for a few seconds, and then let it out when he felt like he was going to be okay.

"More please." His voice was a bit hoarse, as he felt the note slip free from his hand, and he watched while Pretty Boy read it over, and then gave an amicable shrug of his shoulders. "Sure. I mean, I can try. Sometimes I don't think she really wants me to do much talking, though. Might come better from your mouth."

Finally, they came around to the real thing that Micky wanted to address. Lifting his glass, he took another long swig, this time managing to swallow it properly, feeling a pleasant burn that settled and warmed him deep in his chest.

He had just opened up his mouth to say something when Pretty Boy started in on him, and he snapped it closed again, letting him say whatever he needed to say. However, at the other vampire's words, his brow furrowed, and he gave Pretty Boy a pained look and shook his head emphatically.

"No, no. Just..." He stopped, and sighed, letting his gaze drop back to the glass in his hand. He felt like such an a**, like everything he said was always the wrong thing, and wondered if anything he could say would even make a difference now.

When it seemed like Pretty Boy was finally going to allow him to speak, he chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment, suddenly feeling more unsure than ever. Finally, he lifted his gaze back up.

Just say it. Just get it over with.

"I'm sorry." He blurted out, "I'm sorry for leaving all those years ago and not coming back. I should have fought harder for us. I was just...I don't know. So tired of feeling like I was hurting you, and I didn't want to do it anymore. But eventually, somewhere along the way, I just started blaming you for it all, and that wasn't right. I was wrong too." He stopped for a second, his chest ached with all of the things he had wanted to say before but that he hadn't been able to, because he had been having so much trouble getting his brain to process it all.

"And then I hurt you again, the other night, and I didn't mean to do that either. I was just so confused, Pretty Boy. It was so much at once and....well, you know I don't do well with that s**t. I needed time, and I should have just said that, instead of putting it all on you, again."

Another pause and this is where things got really difficult for the Brujah. Once he said this there was no taking it back, and if Pretty Boy didn't feel the same way, then it was going to make things very awkward for the two of them, especially now that Micky was going to be around a lot more often.

"I know I said that I thought I missed you, but that wasn't true at all. I know I've missed you. Every single day. I never stopped."

Kinu

 

[Kinu]

Pretty Boy was slightly concerned by the coughing fit currently seizing the Elder, unsure what exactly had happened. It seemed he was recovering however so he didn't pursue it further. He hadn't thought the alcohol was that strong but perhaps he'd been wrong, or maybe... maybe he'd seen something he liked, considering when it had started. The beautiful male smirked for a moment but found his smirk faltering as Micky set his glass on the top of the bar. He was so close that PB froze in place, every bit of willpower he had tied up in not grabbing him by the collar and closing that remaining shred of distance.

Pretty Boy gave him a smoky laugh and wrapped his claws around the bottle, filling the other males glass again. "You sure you want more? Sounds like it might have grabbed you by the balls there for a second." He couldn't help but tease him, it was hard not to fall back into old rhythms. He felt more like comfortable when he didnt have to hold back. Honestly, he felt more at ease and more like himself when he was with Micky, so changing his behavior just felt wrong anyway.

So, he'd have to make another trip to see the Prince, huh? Fantastic. Pretty Boy gave a resigned smirk followed by an effortless shrug. "If I have to, I have to. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to see my a** again so soon." He tossed his head subtly, moving the hair out of his eyes, and once again fixed his attention on Micky. In all honesty he didn't have as big a problem with talking to the Prince as he let on, if it was good for the club anyway.

Did he hate going there? Yes. But he wasn't a stranger to doing s**t he hated. He finished what was in his glass and poured himself a second round, finally starting to feel a little warmer, or was that because the Elder was so close he could practically smell him? He'd never forgotten the way Micky smelled, it was comforting, always had been. The scent now though started out that way and then just left a pang in his gut, a longing for what used to be.

When he finally let Micky speak he felt even worse, he'd ******** him up. PB watched as the other male tried to gather his thoughts, reeling from what the clanless male had just said. He inwardly kicked himself for losing control over his mouth, for getting defensive. He should have just shut the ******** up and let him talk. Even if he was hurting. Even though he was scared.

That's what it was. He was scared. Afraid the Brujah was going to confirm exactly what he'd said, that he wanted things between them to be professional. Amicable. Since now they'd have to be around one another. Somewhere in the back of his mind Pretty Boy had just wanted to get it out first, so it would sting less. But he was lying with how fine he made the situation sound. He didn't want that. He didn't want to bury what they once had between them for good. The weight of the thought alone threatened to crush him.

But then Micky did something that shocked the rainbow hued male, he began apologizing. Pretty Boy was mid-sip when it started but his arm slowly fell away from his face. Setting the glass on the bartop while he listened. If his heart still beat it would have been out of control. He felt the floor fall away beneath his feet, his slender brows furrowed as he focused intently on the other male's face, his expression intense and unfathomable.

He knew Micky wouldn't lie to him, wouldn't tell him what he wanted to hear just to make their working relationship easier. He'd been so ******** up by how harshly he'd been dismissed the last time they were together but now, hearing what the Elder had actually been going through, he understood. It made sense. None of this was easy on either of them but Micky taking part of the blame, explaining why he did what he did, PB was able to let what little bit of anger he had left go.

'I never stopped'. Those words brought him back down to earth, his gaze dropping away for a moment, processing everything that had been said carefully. He felt an intense wave of emotion rolling violently beneath the surface of his calm exterior, threatening to spill out. He had to reign it in. But he was done playing this ******** game. Pretty Boy's hand shot out and seized the collar of Micky's jacket, his face tilting up, luminous mismatched eyes searching for that intense lilac. He smiled and gave a low, almost relieved, laugh. "You idiot."

Pulling him closer Pretty Boy leaned forward and brought his face within inches of Micky's, his eyes flicking down to take in the curve of his mouth before sliding back up. "I never stopped missing you either. Not once." He slid his free hand beneath his jacket and across his chest, his lips pressing roughly, though somehow still softly, against Micky's. A charge of electricity sparked throughout his body, the sensation sending goosebumps down his arms. All he wanted was Micky. It was all he'd ever wanted since the very beginning, when he'd first laid eyes on him as he strolled so casually into the club. Deep down even then he'd known.

Seussi

 

[Seussi]

Pretty Boy wasn't the only one who was scared. Being frightened over anything was not a feeling that Micky was used to, but that fear gripped him now as he struggled to formulate words into the sentences that he had rehearsed over and over in his mind. Pretty Boy had nearly derailed him completely when he had gone off on his own tangent on pity and on just being amicable if that is what would make things easier, but Micky worked his way through that. It was hard, but he managed.

Because he knew that wasn't his own intention. He knew that wasn't what he wanted.

What he wanted was Pretty Boy, but he had needed to make things right between them first. That apology that should have been given three weeks ago had weighed heavily on him, suffocating him and squashing all joy that he had tried to feel. The world had gotten a lot dimmer since the last time they had parted, and all Micky had wanted ever since was to see Pretty Boy again, to get a second chance to explain, to tell him how sorry he was, and to put his heart on the line. Finding out from the Prince that he would need to come to the Sin Bin on opening night, with implicit instructions to seek out Pretty Boy? That was news that had been somehow exciting and horrifying at the same time.

He'd be getting that second chance after all.

And now the words were out, spoken in what he hoped was as clearly and plainly as he could make it. His fingers gripped the glass in his hand tight, and he forced himself to ease off before it shattered beneath his iron grasp, removing his hand from it completely and leaving it on the bar top. He'd been watching Pretty Boy's face the entire time, and he did not know what to think or expect. By the time he had finished, Pretty Boy had averted his gaze and the brief moment before he moved again seemed to stretch on for ages.

When that clawed hand grabbed at the collar of the Brujah's jacket, he hissed out a surprised breath, wondering if he had finally, somehow, managed to piss Pretty Boy off enough to hit him. But it was soon apparent that wasn't the case at all, as mismatched but vibrant eyes met his own, and again the world stilled, as an indescribable longing began to surge through his veins, the sudden tension in the air between them palpable and all too electrifying. That smile captivated him, and that laugh nearly undid him.

"Ya, but I'm your idiot." He said, quietly, as so many years' worth of repressed emotions began to bubble up in his chest. Their faces were so close together now, he could just lean forward and close the last bit of distance, but he didn't, not yet, not until Pretty Boy spoke again, and he felt that all too familiar hand roaming along his chest, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He felt Pretty Boy begin to lean closer to him then, and he met those lips with his own, one hand instantly moving to glide along Pretty Boy's stomach, and around to the small of his back to tug his body in closer. His other hand came up to lace fingers through hair that had fallen against the other vampire's face, pushing it back against the side of his head and holding it there. He revelled in the feel of him. His heart had ached for this. He parted his lips and let out a light, breathy moan as heat exploded across his skin.

The intensity of it was like nothing he'd felt in all the years they had been ******** he had missed this.

Kinu

 

[Kinu]

Pretty Boy had given up on being worried about taking the risk of kissing Micky. He just knew it was right. He wasn't going to lose any more time. When the Brujah returned the kiss he could feel himself almost melt beneath him. No one ever had that effect on him, before or after, and he'd missed it. The sensation as he felt Micky's hand sliding across the sensitive flesh of his stomach before coming to rest on the small of his back was like wildfire in his lower abdomen, stoking the flames of his desire.

A soft gasp escaped him as he felt his body pulled forward, closer into the other male's. Why did it always surprise him how strong Micky was? Maybe because his memory was full of moments that reminded him of how gentle he could be instead. His physical strength was impressive, but it didnt define him, not to PB anyway. There was so much more about him he was drawn to and enamored by. He closed his eyes briefly as those fingers came up to brush back his hair. God it felt like the first night they'd spent together, all those years ago. He'd never forgotten how intense that night had been. But now, filled with so many emotions and so much repressed longing, this felt like it could easily rival that moment.

Maybe, in a way, it kind of was like the first time again. They'd both changed so much since they'd last been with one another. It had been literal years. But it was fine. They had plenty of time to savor every second of getting reacquainted and, he hoped, the rest of their unlives as well. He felt a pang of desire as Micky moaned, his lips parting as Pretty Boy kissed him. The clanless vampire brought his free hand up, beneath his long silvery hair, to slide along the side of Micky's neck, holding it there as he deepened the kiss.

The soft caress of his tongue found Micky's bottom lip before it slid between them, seeking his own. The hand beneath his jacket sliding down his abdomen slowly, savoring the definition of his muscles and every curve of his body, claws trailing along behind. They fell to just above the edge of his waistline and then around to his a** which he grabbed assertively, pulling the Elders hips in against his own. He had a feeling their meeting was going to take a little longer than initially planned. Good. He'd wanted this so badly for so long and part of him was still having trouble believing it was real. That Micky wanted him still. That'd he'd missed him.

He pressed forward, guiding Micky backwards towards one of the large, plush, leather sofas built into the wall and used his body language to encourage him to sit. He slid himself onto his lap, knees on either side of the Brujah's thighs, his fingers running through Micky's long, beautiful hair while his claws carefully ran along his scalp. Breaking the kiss he smiled at him, his expression a mix of humor and relief. His normally smoky voice was now rather husky, heavily laced with a kind of deep, rolling purr. The timber of it electrifying, almost commanding in its depth.

"My idiot huh?" PB chuckled, finding the statement extremely endearing for some reason. "Honestly, we were both idiots. I was an idiot too." He smirked, kissing the other male's throat, his teeth grazing just beneath his jawline. "But I like the sound of you being mine. In fact, I can make you mine now if that's what you want." His lips were inches from Micky's as he said it, those brightly colored eyes half-lidded with desire. He slid his hands up Micky's torso, over his chest and shoulders, where they came to rest on either side of his neck. "Just tell me and I'm yours."

Seussi

 

[Seussi]

It was just a kiss, but the act of it had sparked a fire inside Micky that he had thought had long gone out. Throughout the years that they'd been apart, he had thrown himself into different relationships, flings, and one-night stands. Most of them had been satisfying, certainly, but none could compare to what he had lost when he had walked out of The Sin Bin, effectively removing himself from Pretty Boy's life. And lately, since they had been briefly reacquainted at the Prince's office building? PB had been all he could think about, him and the memories of what they had once shared.

If he had been at all curious about whether the intensity of those feelings could ever be restored, he was getting his answer now.

Micky kissed Pretty Boy back as though he had never needed anything more. His fingers and claws curled against his scalp from where he had pushed his hair back, and his other hand had begun to trail fingers delicately up along the other vampire's spine, before coming to rest between his shoulder blades. When the kiss deepened, he accepted it eagerly, tongue sliding tenderly against Pretty Boys and swirling around it, a faint taste of alcohol there, though that was unsurprising considering the number of empty shot glasses he'd seen at the table.

His body reacted to the way PB ran his claws along his muscles by clenching up, hardening them unconsciously beneath his touch. When he grabbed Micky's a** and pulled his hips forward, he gasped, but then grinned against the other vampire's lips. He could feel Pretty Boy guiding him, and he readily followed, falling into old habits of letting the other vampire take the lead.

It was how he preferred things, anyways.

Upon feeling something behind him eventually, and with the press of the other vampire urging him, he sat, finding himself perched on the edge of a plush sofa, and soon with a lapful of the gorgeous vampire on top of him. He felt claws against his scalp and he shivered, his arms breaking out in goosebumps again.

The kiss broke, and it was almost a surprise as he blinked half-lidded, unfocused, lilac eyes at the vampire sitting above him. Pretty Boy was graced with a smile that could only be described as goofy, but the Brujah was obviously completely enraptured. His fingers had begun their slow, gentle stroke along Pretty Boy's spine again as he tried to listen, but it was difficult to do that when he just wanted to start kissing him again.

"Yours. Absolutely. Yes." He agreed, voice low, and then he sighed at the feel of teeth grazing along his skin before Pretty Boy's lips were oh-so-close to his again.

Okay, he needed to focus, even if that husky timber of voice was driving him crazy and making him feel all kinds of ways.

"Yes." He said again, though this time it was more breathy, as Pretty Boy ran hands along his torso. "Make me yours. I want you to."

Kinu

 

[Kinu]

"With pleasure." Pretty Boy practically purred, his lips grazing the Brujah's before pulling back, teasing him. Claws lightly moving along Micky's skin as he trailed his fingers up over muscle and across his toned shoulders, sliding his jacket off and exposing his bare chest further. PB knew there was no way they'd ever make it upstairs, adrenaline and desire flooding every inch of his body. Being around Micky seemed to have that effect on him, but there was something especially potent about the sight of him at this moment that sent a searing heat burning through his core.

Maybe it was the lights, maybe it was the booze, though he didn't honestly feel drunk yet, or maybe it was the fact that he was touching the man who made him feel things no one else did. Giving a breathy sigh, the strokes Micky trailed along his spine sending shivers down his body, Pretty Boy smirked. It didn't matter why, it just was, and he felt almost euphoric. He never thought they'd get a second chance, or he'd feared they never would anyway. Yet here they were.

He took a moment to lean back, enjoying the visual of the male beneath him. He really was so beautiful, but it wasn't just outside. That's what had drawn PB in from the beginning. It was what he felt from the male in general that had eventually led to deeper feelings beyond lust, something about his energy and the way he saw the world. It was what had brought PB back from the bleak reality he'd settled into all those years ago. Micky had made the world beautiful again at a time when the clanless male didn't believe it ever would be.

Pretty Boy felt a pang in his heart and slid the claw of his thumb gently over the other male's bottom lip, the backs of his fingers brushing across a pale cheek to shift the hair from his face. His luminous gaze, one eye shaded by multicolored locks, looking down at Micky with an expression beyond simple lust, the lights accentuating his body and lending his abdomen an even more tantalizing definition beneath the fishnet and jewelry.

His tongue slid between his lips to wet them, they tasted like Micky, the corner of his bottom lip caught and held between his teeth before he released it again. He leaned in and kissed the Elder deeply, passionately. He tasted so good, like he remembered, better even. His hips slid closer, claws weaving through Micky's hair on either side of his head from just below his ears back to the base of his skull.

His experienced fingers wrapping into those beautiful silver locks as he gripped them, using a careful amount of pressure, to suddenly tilt the other male's head back, holding him there. The tension on his scalp just enough to elicit a pleasurable sensation. He began to kiss down Micky's throat to his collar bone. The heat becoming a wildfire inside of him. He was almost afraid it would consume him and, at the same time, never wanted anything more.

Seussi

 

[Seussi]

That voice. That deep purr tugged at something low in Micky’s stomach while simultaneously leaving him practically choking on desire. He’d forgotten how much he missed just hearing that low tone of Pretty Boys. It had always been a promise of unimaginable pleasure, fulfilled lust, and something more, that feeling they’d never bothered to label. It filled him up and made him desperate for what he instinctively knew would come next if only the other vampire would stop taking his time. If he would stop teasing him with that soft brush of lips against his own or with the claws that danced lightly across his skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. From his position, all he could do now was watch with lilac eyes half-lidded and smouldering with want, appreciating the view of the clanless vampire straddled atop him while a fire flared in his belly and spread across every inch of his skin.

The trailing of his fingers stopped against Pretty Boy’s lower back when he saw the other vampire smirk and sit back. He responded in kind, though he also bit down on his lower lip as he smiled, a glint of fang visible, his silvery hair shimmering with the ambient light of the room, the paleness of his body, now further exposed, giving off an almost ethereal glow, something that gave him an otherworldly prettiness as he gazed up at Pretty Boy through thick, darkened lashes.

Everything about the colourful vampire had always been beautiful to Micky. From the first time he’d seen him, he'd been captivated. But now, with a period apart that had seemed to last for ages, everything felt so much more than he remembered. Pretty Boy’s charms, his seductive ways, the way the light hit his body and enhanced the multicoloured shine of his hair but cast shadows across his muscles. Micky drank it all in but wanted more and wanted it now.

He almost spoke again but hesitated when Pretty Boy shifted. His lower lip was released from his teeth as the other vampire ran his thumb along it, and Micky stilled beneath the quiet, soft, almost exploratory touch. It was such a tender moment, unexpectedly, and it seemed to be held suspended between them as if time had slowed. He took in Pretty Boy’s gaze and felt that the feelings conveyed there must have nearly perfectly matched his own, his free hand lifting to mirror the motion of the other vampires as he gently pushed back rainbow-hued strands of hair, a pale hand cupping the other vampire's cheek, his thumb grazing softly against his cheekbone.

The fingers at Pretty Boy’s lower back flexed as he leaned forward, his head tilted toward him in silent anticipation, lips parted to allow Pretty Boy deeper access, and he met that kiss with a hunger of his own, no longer carefully held back. He’d missed this so much, the way the other vampire made him feel; those sparks of warmth and joy danced and swirled through him, making him faintly dizzy. He pressed his claws eagerly against his flesh, holding him, as the fingers of his other hand twined through multicoloured strands of hair, grazing against his scalp.

He let out a quiet gasp as his hair was tugged against, his head tilting back even as his fingers began curling around the back of Pretty Boy's. He grinned, his eyes closing as he shivered from both the tingling sensation at the back of his scalp and the first kiss placed against the curve of his throat, followed by another and another. He let out soft hums of pleasure and appreciation for the kisses that worked their way further down, filling the starkly silent room with sound.

Kinu

 

[Kinu]

Pretty Boy drank in the form beneath him, savoring every inch of Micky. The beauty of the male made him ache softly inside, like someone had a vice grip on his heart and was gently squeezing it. He closed his eyes and leaned his face into that palm before it moved to slide into his long hair, giving a soft appreciative sound when claws met scalp. It sent waves of sensation shivering throughout his body and across his skin. Mismatched eyes opened again, half-lidded with desire and his lips parted softly the moment Micky gasped, sucking in a sharp breath of satisfaction. He remembered loving every sound the Brujah made, how it heated his blood quicker than almost anything else. Each kiss followed the line of Micky's collar bone up to his shoulder where he lightly sank his teeth into the muscle along the curve between shoulder and neck. His fingers released their hold on those silken, silvery locks to instead slide down his arms, removing his jacket the rest of the way. Strong fingers curled around his wrists which PB then lifted back from his own head and up over the other male's body, pinning them against the wall behind him. His mouth found the Elders again, losing himself in the moment. Kissing him brought back so many memories. 

PB pulled away again, just enough so that his lips were inches from Micky's. He knew that going slow was probably making him desperate for the clanless vampire to get on with it, to just shove his hand down his pants and dive right in. But he wasn't going to do that. Control of the pace was his to dictate and he wasn't going to be rushed. They may not have had all the time PB wanted to really play with the male beneath him, but he sure as s**t had enough to make it extra hot, to sear it into both their memories. It had been a long time since they'd last been together but there was no way he could have ever forgotten how to touch the male so he would squirm or writhe, how to make him gasp or moan, every sound was like music to the brightly colored males ears. Those nights spent in one another's arms, locked in the heat of passion, they were as clear as crystal even now. There had been so many nights since then that Pretty Boy would be laying in bed staring at the ceiling and one of those memories would hit him without warning. At the time it had been painful, but it wouldn't be anymore. 

The toned muscles of his stomach flexed as he kept his grip firmly on the male's wrists, he could feel the heat shooting through his core, lighting up every nerve ending. The familiar pulse in his lower abdomen as the heat between them built made his skin tingle. But this was different from how he normally felt when he'd managed to steal some hot thing away from the dance floor and into his arms for the night. The intensity was far more electric with Micky than it ever was, or ever had been, with anyone else. There was something so different about it, and it wasn't just because of how pretty he was. Maybe it was the way he felt about him. He was too scared to say it out loud, but he wanted to. He knew he didn't want this to be just some one time 'Hey, now that we're ok again come over and we can bang sometimes' kinda deal. He wanted more. He wanted Micky back in his life for good, he wanted this to be more than casual sex. Because these emotions had always been anything but casual. He just wasn't afraid of them anymore. 

His lips were still inches from the others, gaze still half-lidded with desire, as one hand kept a steady grip on the wrists pinned above Micky's head while the other moved to his chin, tilting his face up. The claw of his thumb gently pressed to Micky's lower lip before PB's fingers fanned out and slipped down his throat, claws lightly grazing that pale skin, continuing down at an agonizingly slow pace. He savored the feeling beneath his fingertips as they traveled from chest to sternum, across his abdomen and finally arrived at his lower belly. He locked his gaze on the male's luminous lilac eyes, his lips brushing Mickys for the briefest of moments before pulling back enough so he couldn't kiss him if he tried. Pretty Boy's fingers worked the button of Micky's pants expertly, easily undoing them before he slid the zipper down. His lips curled into a smug smirk, head tilting up slightly so he was now gazing down at the Brujah with an air of authority. His fingertips brushed the soft flesh just beneath the waistband but paused before slipping in any further. That heat rippled through his core again. God he wanted him so badly. Then came a knock at the door.

PB froze briefly on top of Micky, his eyes shifting quickly to the door. ********. He should have known this would happen. He leaned his head back and sighed, closing his eyes, trying not to get pissed about it. He did have a business to run after all. It was inevitable someone would come looking for him on opening night. It was still the absolute worst timing. He let his head fall forward again, a smirk that was halfway between incredulous and morbidly humored cemented into his expression. His gaze lingered at the sight of Micky beneath him however, just wanting one more second of the moment they were sharing. Arms above his head, pants undone, bare chested and beautiful. Goddammit. "Looks like we're going to need a raincheck." He chuckled, leaning down to plant one more kiss on the Elders lips before he slid backwards off his lap, releasing his wrists as he did. Pretty Boy ran his claws through his long hair, fixing his clothes. He needed to calm down before he answered that door. He was too riled up.

The worst ******** timing ever.

Seussi