The Gratuitous Vampire AU - Part 3
Jul. 31st, 2009 10:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rallamajoopTitle: Sign of the Cross (a.k.a. the Completely Gratuitous Guilty Gear Vampire AU)
Summary: Gears or vampires, it's all just another day's work for the Holy Order. But they never do quite manage to screen some of their more unusual recruits as carefully as they ought to either.
Characters/Pairing: Sol/Ky
Chapter: 3 of 5
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3070
Previous Parts: Part 1, Part 2
Because if we've learned just one thing to be from the collective works of Anne Rice, it's that vampires are really just an elaborate metaphor for gay sex.
Ky had been ready for the bite to hurt, but what he feels is beyond any pain – this is more like the sudden sensation of tingling cold under water that ought to be scalding, beyond anything his senses have the vocabulary to describe to him. It must be a miracle he hasn’t blacked out, every moment he finds the space to recognise he’s still conscious he meets with a new kind of amazement. He can feel what can only be blood flowing from his body, mouthful by mouthful, but Ky’s been wounded before and this doesn’t even compare – it’s like the teeth aren’t in his neck, they've sunk straight into his soul. It's so much more intense than anything he's ever imagined he had any capacity to feel – he can't see, can't hear, can't even remember a time this feeling wasn't everything in his whole world. There’s something so fitting to the realisation that the aftertaste of himself in Sol’s mouth will be the last impact he’ll ever leave on the world that he can’t even question that this has to be the last thing he'll ever feel.
It's such a shock then, when Sol withdraws his teeth and the rest of the world comes flooding back, that it takes him several dazed seconds to realise what’s happened, some small portion of him almost disappointed.
Ky feels light-headed from blood loss, but no worse than what he's used to from donations to the Order's very necessary pool. He can feel Sol, still holding him there, muscles tensed, head hovering over his shoulder and breath ghosting against his neck in short, warm pants, but Sol makes no move to start drinking again.
“...why did you stop?” he asks stupidly.
The grip on him tightens sharply, the pain of it so normal compared to everything else that’s transpired tonight as to be oddly sobering.
“For fuck's sake boy, what do you take me for?” Sol growls at him, sounding so insulted by the suggestion that Ky's first impulse is to apologise to him.
“But... you...” he stutters helplessly.
Sol makes a noise that isn't quite a sigh, grabs one of Ky's hands and pulls it down to his side, just under his ribcage. The warmth of Sol's skin is a shock against Ky's fingers, but even more so is the realisation that as close as Sol's shirt is to shredded, the hole giving him access is the very same he made when he stabbed Sol – what can’t be more than minutes before. The skin underneath is slippery with blood, and yet, under the flex of Ky’s fingers Sol's flesh is smooth and undamaged, he can't detect so much as a scar. It dawns on him – oh, of course – vampires can heal within minutes of feeding. Sol had never been trying to kill him, he'd just been...
“That was why you...?” he whispers, feeling lost among so many pieces of this that don't add up to anything he can make sense of. “I don't understand. You're... a vampire...” He’s not sure anymore whether Sol’s holding him down or holding him up, but he’s got no idea what he’d do now if Sol let go.
“What the fuck do I have to do to spell it out for you?” Sol's voice is so close he's making Ky dizzy. “Been one since the day you signed me up.”
“But you've been helping us, you–” Ky stammers stupidly. None of this was in the script he'd prepared himself for. Sol the human has always been enough trouble to deal with; finding the fortitude to cope with Sol the vampire had nearly broken him, and to have all his assumptions shattered all over again this night is more than even all his years of training have prepared him for. This is insane – and yet, the urge to believe everything Sol's halfway-implying is so strong it's shameful. Is he under some kind of glamour? But he's still wearing his crucifix, he should be immune to vampiric influence. After everything Sol's done for them it's not remotely logical he could have been planning to betray them all along. Ky knows Sol too well for that – he’s fought at Sol’s side, seen the looks he tries to hide on the rare occasions they arrive in time to rescue human hostages alive; if he's been an enemy agent all along he's been remarkably ineffective.
“Thought you might have noticed,” Sol snorts.
“Sol,” Ky asks desperately, squirming against Sol's hold, “what are you trying to tell me?”
“I’m a vampire who’s on your side.”
Ky stares blankly at what little of Sol he can make out in this light. He wouldn’t be the first vampire to protest innocence when backed into a corner, to invent elaborate old wives tales to prove themselves the one vampire in the world who has seen the error of their ways, to have been redeemed by mystical intervention, to have been pure enough to retain their humanity through the transformation – except Sol isn’t cornered, and hasn’t offered any real explanation. He hasn’t pretended to have any proof beyond who Ky knows him to be after so much time guarding each other’s backs.
Ky shakes his head. “I’ve lost a lot of men to vampires who made them believe that claim.”
“Then don't call me a vampire,” Sol growls. “Call me something else, whatever lets you deal with it.”
It's an excuse, not an answer, but Ky’s so desperate for anything to make this alright that the tiny sliver of doubt in his mind – that just maybe Sol could really be the one chink in the rules of something so much larger than the Order regulation handbook – wedges itself under his better judgement, and Ky latches onto it with everything he has left.
“You’ve been hiding this from us all along?” he says weakly.
“Can you blame me?”
Ky can't. The moment he let himself so much as entertain the possibility that Sol was telling the truth, so many little things about Sol that have never quite added up before have suddenly begun to make perfect sense. This is why they couldn't uncover anything about his background, why he always grumbles so much when made to get up during daylight hours, why he's so very good at what he does. Already it seems like the greater wonder that he ever believed Sol could be human.
“No,” he whispers, “I couldn't blame you for anything.” He's suddenly very glad for the feeling of Sol's skin under his fingers. There's something grounding about the tactile connection that he needs right now. Especially with the relief of having survived this night and Sol not being lost to him hitting him so hard he’s glad Sol’s still holding him up.
“Can't exactly blame you either,” Sol admits, seemingly satisfied at last that Ky isn't going to lay into him with a blade the first chance he gets. He leans back as though to step away, then hesitates, looking back up, and Ky takes a second to realise that what’s holding Sol there is the press of his own fingers tightening at Sol’s side, and, oh, is that him doing that? This has all been so overwhelming he’s still catching up, embarrassingly slowly, with everything down to his own reactions, but there’s been something comforting about the weight of Sol’s body that he’s been distantly aware of for a while now, something intoxicatingly real about every point of contact between them. It takes another second to make sense of why, and another for the full mortification to sink in, because with all the excitement, it’s taken this long for him to become fully aware of just how – and just how much – he’s been enjoying Sol’s proximity, on the most visceral of levels.
“Boy?” Sol shifts slightly, then freezes in a way that can only mean he's realised exactly what Ky's reaction means, and Ky wants to die of shame. Surely he’s had enough shocks for one night without this as well; what sort of person must it make him to be this aroused by being bitten, of all ridiculous things?
But Sol only gives a low chuckle and brings a hand to the side of Ky's face, surprisingly gentle. “Don't be like that. Only natural to react like this.” One of Sol's legs brushes lightly between Ky's, and Ky gasps aloud, and ohgod, even just that feels so good that when Sol adds, “There's not much more intimate than blood,” it takes him most of a minute to make sense of all the words.
“Oh,” Ky breathes, finding it increasingly hard to think straight, but incredibly relieved. So that's all it was, just – a reaction, probably something to do with all the stress and panic, the emotional overload...
His train of thought dissolves into static as Sol leans in again, insinuating a leg between Ky's in a way that couldn't possibly be mistaken for teasing or accidental, almost lifting Ky off his feet with the pressure – like a promise of so many things Ky hadn't even known to ask for. Ky's not sure he'd ever realised that anyone could get as hard as he is this fast, but Sol certainly can't be under any illusions about it, and he really, really doesn't seem to mind.
“Well?” Sol whispers in his ear. “Want me to take care of that for you?”
Ky's brain almost shorts out altogether; he's halfway sure this is all happening far too fast, but the only word he can form is, “Please.”
Ky has just enough time to make out Sol's teeth bared in a wicked grin before Sol's kissing him, deep and urgent, so sudden and unfamiliar that it takes Ky most of a minute to sort out who's tongue is who's and gather his senses into any attempt to return the kiss, free hand tangling into Sol’s hair to hold them together, but if anything that only seems to make Sol wilder still. It should be more uncomfortable than pleasant when Ky has so little experience with anything like this that he's struggling just to keep up, but far from that, Ky's loving every second – Sol's holding nothing back and the feeling of that is unbelievable; he’s not even sure he knows what he’d do if Sol slowed down. The memory of Sol in combat from earlier in the evening flickers behind his eyelids with every other gasping breath – impossible not to feel all that same energy being redirected into a different kind of onslaught now. Sol kisses like he's been starving for this; and with the way he's keeping them pressed full length together there's no way of missing that drinking Ky's blood must have turned him on every bit as much as it did Ky. The pressure of Sol's leg over his erection is something glorious, and Ky can't help himself from moving against it, rising and falling in stops and starts, what Sol's doing to his mouth far too distracting to let him work out any kind of consistent rhythm. He should be embarrassed by the way he's all but rutting against Sol's leg, if everything Sol's doing wasn't so obviously meant to encourage him. There’s the exhilarating feeling that there’s nothing he can do wrong here – no part of him Sol doesn’t want, and for a blissful few minutes it seems like the worst mistake Ky’s ever been guilty of is that they haven’t done this before.
The small corner of Ky's mind that's still capable of offering comment on events reminds him that it's not, in fact, that unusual for vampires to use glamour-fuelled seduction to get close to their victims, and it's not until now that it's even occurred to him there might be something more to those cases. But what happened between him and Sol is hardly 'normal' for vampire attacks in any way, and after all he's been through tonight, surely he's earned the right to enjoy this.
It's a feeling that only intensifies when he feels Sol scrabbling to undo his belt-buckle, not even bothering to pull the belt free before reaching for Ky's fly. He breaks the kiss and leans back, surveying his handiwork with considerable relish. Vampires can see in the dark, can't they? Ky can hardly imagine what kind of picture he must make by now, feels like he's never going to catch his breath and isn't even sure that he wants to. He's just about to protest (protest what he's not sure, though the fact Sol's stopped touching him might be a good place to start) when there's a hand dragging slowly upwards over the very obvious bulge in his underwear, and as desperate as he is for contact down there he can't shake the idea this is less for him than it's for Sol, learning Ky by touch. The hand gets all the way to the top seam before plunging in under the fabric, the sensation of skin on sensitive skin a whole new kind of revelation, and it's a good thing there's room for Ky to lean forward now because the way he arches under the touch probably would have resulted in him cracking his head against the wall behind him otherwise.
“'Why did you stop', should'a fucking known.” Sol sounds incredibly pleased with himself, and Ky takes a second to recognise the first four of those words as his own. He almost tells Sol he hadn't meant it like this, but it would be closer to the truth to say he hadn't known how he'd meant it at the time. What comes out instead is a moan shaped like Sol's name, but it must have been the right answer because Sol's all over him again, rewarding Ky with the press of lips closing against the side of his neck, once, then twice, then gone again just as suddenly when Sol drops to his knees, pulling Ky's pants down to his knees almost in the same movement. The shock of cold air on what has become unusually sensitive skin is just enough to distract Ky out of realising what Sol is so plainly about to do until the last second before Sol's mouth closes over him, hot and wet and Ky should really be getting used to the feeling of everything in his brain whiting out into levels of pleasure he hadn't imagined could be left to explore after everything Sol's already done to him – so good that this time the surprise is that ten seconds have gone by and he hasn't come right there.
He jerks forward helplessly, not for the first time that night shocked by his own lack of restraint, but Sol only revels in it. For all that Ky's horribly sure he's not going to last, Sol seems to know exactly how to catch him right before he goes over the edge, slowing himself at just the right moment to keep Ky panting for more. There's half a thought teasing at him about some sort of poetic sense in the idea of Sol being unnaturally skilled at sucking on things, but whatever ridiculous thought Ky was about to have along those lines is forgotten again under another twist of Sol's tongue and no matter how well Sol's doing there's no way this is going to go on for long.
The last coherent thought that passes thorough Ky's mind is to wonder, has it really been less than twelve hours between when he was dragging Sol out of bed to coddle the delusions of some ridiculous bureaucrat, and this?
He comes, halfway to laughter at his own foolishness; thinks maybe he feels the last little piece of the world he thought he knew come crashing down in the middle of it and isn't even sure he cares. Climax is more than a little like being bitten all over again, beyond pain or arousal, beyond remembering his own name, and far from remembering how to want anything but this.
The first thing he's aware of afterwards is Sol, still radiating smugness, and the oddly un-sobering awareness that by rights, probably none of this should have happened tonight. It's a bit hard to make the most of what should by rights have been a very pleasant afterglow in such odd circumstances
“Better than killing me?” Sol grins, and the best Ky can manage is an incoherent noise that's at least one part exasperation, but nonetheless very much a sound of assent. He can't even picture fighting Sol now without the image transforming into something significantly different.
The next thing that registers is Sol zipping up his pants and standing up. There's a finality to his manner that Ky finds faintly confusing.
“Don't you want me to...?” Ky offers. He's sure Sol was just as aroused as he was, and no matter how smug he still looks, nothing Ky knows about him lends any sense to the idea Sol would be happy with just this. Unless he already has... and it's fair that Ky wouldn't necessarily have been in any state to notice... and no matter how worn out he is or how much trouble he's having even admitting the words for half of what he's thinking, the thought of being able to touch Sol in return is so appealing there's a wash of disappointment when he considers the alternative.
Sol shakes his head. “Not here,” and that's just about the first it even occurs to Ky that even if this is a secluded alley in the early morning, they've still carried out this whole act in public. Ky is still adding up all the implications of that with what 'not here' is going to mean when Sol catches his eye and adds, “If you're still in the mood for more when we get home, trust me, there's plenty I want from you.”
The words are blunt and demanding, and should they really seem like the most intimate thing Sol's ever said to him?
The only reply Ky succeeds in coming up with is, “Which is the fastest way back?”
Summary: Gears or vampires, it's all just another day's work for the Holy Order. But they never do quite manage to screen some of their more unusual recruits as carefully as they ought to either.
Characters/Pairing: Sol/Ky
Chapter: 3 of 5
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3070
Previous Parts: Part 1, Part 2
Because if we've learned just one thing to be from the collective works of Anne Rice, it's that vampires are really just an elaborate metaphor for gay sex.
Ky had been ready for the bite to hurt, but what he feels is beyond any pain – this is more like the sudden sensation of tingling cold under water that ought to be scalding, beyond anything his senses have the vocabulary to describe to him. It must be a miracle he hasn’t blacked out, every moment he finds the space to recognise he’s still conscious he meets with a new kind of amazement. He can feel what can only be blood flowing from his body, mouthful by mouthful, but Ky’s been wounded before and this doesn’t even compare – it’s like the teeth aren’t in his neck, they've sunk straight into his soul. It's so much more intense than anything he's ever imagined he had any capacity to feel – he can't see, can't hear, can't even remember a time this feeling wasn't everything in his whole world. There’s something so fitting to the realisation that the aftertaste of himself in Sol’s mouth will be the last impact he’ll ever leave on the world that he can’t even question that this has to be the last thing he'll ever feel.
It's such a shock then, when Sol withdraws his teeth and the rest of the world comes flooding back, that it takes him several dazed seconds to realise what’s happened, some small portion of him almost disappointed.
Ky feels light-headed from blood loss, but no worse than what he's used to from donations to the Order's very necessary pool. He can feel Sol, still holding him there, muscles tensed, head hovering over his shoulder and breath ghosting against his neck in short, warm pants, but Sol makes no move to start drinking again.
“...why did you stop?” he asks stupidly.
The grip on him tightens sharply, the pain of it so normal compared to everything else that’s transpired tonight as to be oddly sobering.
“For fuck's sake boy, what do you take me for?” Sol growls at him, sounding so insulted by the suggestion that Ky's first impulse is to apologise to him.
“But... you...” he stutters helplessly.
Sol makes a noise that isn't quite a sigh, grabs one of Ky's hands and pulls it down to his side, just under his ribcage. The warmth of Sol's skin is a shock against Ky's fingers, but even more so is the realisation that as close as Sol's shirt is to shredded, the hole giving him access is the very same he made when he stabbed Sol – what can’t be more than minutes before. The skin underneath is slippery with blood, and yet, under the flex of Ky’s fingers Sol's flesh is smooth and undamaged, he can't detect so much as a scar. It dawns on him – oh, of course – vampires can heal within minutes of feeding. Sol had never been trying to kill him, he'd just been...
“That was why you...?” he whispers, feeling lost among so many pieces of this that don't add up to anything he can make sense of. “I don't understand. You're... a vampire...” He’s not sure anymore whether Sol’s holding him down or holding him up, but he’s got no idea what he’d do now if Sol let go.
“What the fuck do I have to do to spell it out for you?” Sol's voice is so close he's making Ky dizzy. “Been one since the day you signed me up.”
“But you've been helping us, you–” Ky stammers stupidly. None of this was in the script he'd prepared himself for. Sol the human has always been enough trouble to deal with; finding the fortitude to cope with Sol the vampire had nearly broken him, and to have all his assumptions shattered all over again this night is more than even all his years of training have prepared him for. This is insane – and yet, the urge to believe everything Sol's halfway-implying is so strong it's shameful. Is he under some kind of glamour? But he's still wearing his crucifix, he should be immune to vampiric influence. After everything Sol's done for them it's not remotely logical he could have been planning to betray them all along. Ky knows Sol too well for that – he’s fought at Sol’s side, seen the looks he tries to hide on the rare occasions they arrive in time to rescue human hostages alive; if he's been an enemy agent all along he's been remarkably ineffective.
“Thought you might have noticed,” Sol snorts.
“Sol,” Ky asks desperately, squirming against Sol's hold, “what are you trying to tell me?”
“I’m a vampire who’s on your side.”
Ky stares blankly at what little of Sol he can make out in this light. He wouldn’t be the first vampire to protest innocence when backed into a corner, to invent elaborate old wives tales to prove themselves the one vampire in the world who has seen the error of their ways, to have been redeemed by mystical intervention, to have been pure enough to retain their humanity through the transformation – except Sol isn’t cornered, and hasn’t offered any real explanation. He hasn’t pretended to have any proof beyond who Ky knows him to be after so much time guarding each other’s backs.
Ky shakes his head. “I’ve lost a lot of men to vampires who made them believe that claim.”
“Then don't call me a vampire,” Sol growls. “Call me something else, whatever lets you deal with it.”
It's an excuse, not an answer, but Ky’s so desperate for anything to make this alright that the tiny sliver of doubt in his mind – that just maybe Sol could really be the one chink in the rules of something so much larger than the Order regulation handbook – wedges itself under his better judgement, and Ky latches onto it with everything he has left.
“You’ve been hiding this from us all along?” he says weakly.
“Can you blame me?”
Ky can't. The moment he let himself so much as entertain the possibility that Sol was telling the truth, so many little things about Sol that have never quite added up before have suddenly begun to make perfect sense. This is why they couldn't uncover anything about his background, why he always grumbles so much when made to get up during daylight hours, why he's so very good at what he does. Already it seems like the greater wonder that he ever believed Sol could be human.
“No,” he whispers, “I couldn't blame you for anything.” He's suddenly very glad for the feeling of Sol's skin under his fingers. There's something grounding about the tactile connection that he needs right now. Especially with the relief of having survived this night and Sol not being lost to him hitting him so hard he’s glad Sol’s still holding him up.
“Can't exactly blame you either,” Sol admits, seemingly satisfied at last that Ky isn't going to lay into him with a blade the first chance he gets. He leans back as though to step away, then hesitates, looking back up, and Ky takes a second to realise that what’s holding Sol there is the press of his own fingers tightening at Sol’s side, and, oh, is that him doing that? This has all been so overwhelming he’s still catching up, embarrassingly slowly, with everything down to his own reactions, but there’s been something comforting about the weight of Sol’s body that he’s been distantly aware of for a while now, something intoxicatingly real about every point of contact between them. It takes another second to make sense of why, and another for the full mortification to sink in, because with all the excitement, it’s taken this long for him to become fully aware of just how – and just how much – he’s been enjoying Sol’s proximity, on the most visceral of levels.
“Boy?” Sol shifts slightly, then freezes in a way that can only mean he's realised exactly what Ky's reaction means, and Ky wants to die of shame. Surely he’s had enough shocks for one night without this as well; what sort of person must it make him to be this aroused by being bitten, of all ridiculous things?
But Sol only gives a low chuckle and brings a hand to the side of Ky's face, surprisingly gentle. “Don't be like that. Only natural to react like this.” One of Sol's legs brushes lightly between Ky's, and Ky gasps aloud, and ohgod, even just that feels so good that when Sol adds, “There's not much more intimate than blood,” it takes him most of a minute to make sense of all the words.
“Oh,” Ky breathes, finding it increasingly hard to think straight, but incredibly relieved. So that's all it was, just – a reaction, probably something to do with all the stress and panic, the emotional overload...
His train of thought dissolves into static as Sol leans in again, insinuating a leg between Ky's in a way that couldn't possibly be mistaken for teasing or accidental, almost lifting Ky off his feet with the pressure – like a promise of so many things Ky hadn't even known to ask for. Ky's not sure he'd ever realised that anyone could get as hard as he is this fast, but Sol certainly can't be under any illusions about it, and he really, really doesn't seem to mind.
“Well?” Sol whispers in his ear. “Want me to take care of that for you?”
Ky's brain almost shorts out altogether; he's halfway sure this is all happening far too fast, but the only word he can form is, “Please.”
Ky has just enough time to make out Sol's teeth bared in a wicked grin before Sol's kissing him, deep and urgent, so sudden and unfamiliar that it takes Ky most of a minute to sort out who's tongue is who's and gather his senses into any attempt to return the kiss, free hand tangling into Sol’s hair to hold them together, but if anything that only seems to make Sol wilder still. It should be more uncomfortable than pleasant when Ky has so little experience with anything like this that he's struggling just to keep up, but far from that, Ky's loving every second – Sol's holding nothing back and the feeling of that is unbelievable; he’s not even sure he knows what he’d do if Sol slowed down. The memory of Sol in combat from earlier in the evening flickers behind his eyelids with every other gasping breath – impossible not to feel all that same energy being redirected into a different kind of onslaught now. Sol kisses like he's been starving for this; and with the way he's keeping them pressed full length together there's no way of missing that drinking Ky's blood must have turned him on every bit as much as it did Ky. The pressure of Sol's leg over his erection is something glorious, and Ky can't help himself from moving against it, rising and falling in stops and starts, what Sol's doing to his mouth far too distracting to let him work out any kind of consistent rhythm. He should be embarrassed by the way he's all but rutting against Sol's leg, if everything Sol's doing wasn't so obviously meant to encourage him. There’s the exhilarating feeling that there’s nothing he can do wrong here – no part of him Sol doesn’t want, and for a blissful few minutes it seems like the worst mistake Ky’s ever been guilty of is that they haven’t done this before.
The small corner of Ky's mind that's still capable of offering comment on events reminds him that it's not, in fact, that unusual for vampires to use glamour-fuelled seduction to get close to their victims, and it's not until now that it's even occurred to him there might be something more to those cases. But what happened between him and Sol is hardly 'normal' for vampire attacks in any way, and after all he's been through tonight, surely he's earned the right to enjoy this.
It's a feeling that only intensifies when he feels Sol scrabbling to undo his belt-buckle, not even bothering to pull the belt free before reaching for Ky's fly. He breaks the kiss and leans back, surveying his handiwork with considerable relish. Vampires can see in the dark, can't they? Ky can hardly imagine what kind of picture he must make by now, feels like he's never going to catch his breath and isn't even sure that he wants to. He's just about to protest (protest what he's not sure, though the fact Sol's stopped touching him might be a good place to start) when there's a hand dragging slowly upwards over the very obvious bulge in his underwear, and as desperate as he is for contact down there he can't shake the idea this is less for him than it's for Sol, learning Ky by touch. The hand gets all the way to the top seam before plunging in under the fabric, the sensation of skin on sensitive skin a whole new kind of revelation, and it's a good thing there's room for Ky to lean forward now because the way he arches under the touch probably would have resulted in him cracking his head against the wall behind him otherwise.
“'Why did you stop', should'a fucking known.” Sol sounds incredibly pleased with himself, and Ky takes a second to recognise the first four of those words as his own. He almost tells Sol he hadn't meant it like this, but it would be closer to the truth to say he hadn't known how he'd meant it at the time. What comes out instead is a moan shaped like Sol's name, but it must have been the right answer because Sol's all over him again, rewarding Ky with the press of lips closing against the side of his neck, once, then twice, then gone again just as suddenly when Sol drops to his knees, pulling Ky's pants down to his knees almost in the same movement. The shock of cold air on what has become unusually sensitive skin is just enough to distract Ky out of realising what Sol is so plainly about to do until the last second before Sol's mouth closes over him, hot and wet and Ky should really be getting used to the feeling of everything in his brain whiting out into levels of pleasure he hadn't imagined could be left to explore after everything Sol's already done to him – so good that this time the surprise is that ten seconds have gone by and he hasn't come right there.
He jerks forward helplessly, not for the first time that night shocked by his own lack of restraint, but Sol only revels in it. For all that Ky's horribly sure he's not going to last, Sol seems to know exactly how to catch him right before he goes over the edge, slowing himself at just the right moment to keep Ky panting for more. There's half a thought teasing at him about some sort of poetic sense in the idea of Sol being unnaturally skilled at sucking on things, but whatever ridiculous thought Ky was about to have along those lines is forgotten again under another twist of Sol's tongue and no matter how well Sol's doing there's no way this is going to go on for long.
The last coherent thought that passes thorough Ky's mind is to wonder, has it really been less than twelve hours between when he was dragging Sol out of bed to coddle the delusions of some ridiculous bureaucrat, and this?
He comes, halfway to laughter at his own foolishness; thinks maybe he feels the last little piece of the world he thought he knew come crashing down in the middle of it and isn't even sure he cares. Climax is more than a little like being bitten all over again, beyond pain or arousal, beyond remembering his own name, and far from remembering how to want anything but this.
The first thing he's aware of afterwards is Sol, still radiating smugness, and the oddly un-sobering awareness that by rights, probably none of this should have happened tonight. It's a bit hard to make the most of what should by rights have been a very pleasant afterglow in such odd circumstances
“Better than killing me?” Sol grins, and the best Ky can manage is an incoherent noise that's at least one part exasperation, but nonetheless very much a sound of assent. He can't even picture fighting Sol now without the image transforming into something significantly different.
The next thing that registers is Sol zipping up his pants and standing up. There's a finality to his manner that Ky finds faintly confusing.
“Don't you want me to...?” Ky offers. He's sure Sol was just as aroused as he was, and no matter how smug he still looks, nothing Ky knows about him lends any sense to the idea Sol would be happy with just this. Unless he already has... and it's fair that Ky wouldn't necessarily have been in any state to notice... and no matter how worn out he is or how much trouble he's having even admitting the words for half of what he's thinking, the thought of being able to touch Sol in return is so appealing there's a wash of disappointment when he considers the alternative.
Sol shakes his head. “Not here,” and that's just about the first it even occurs to Ky that even if this is a secluded alley in the early morning, they've still carried out this whole act in public. Ky is still adding up all the implications of that with what 'not here' is going to mean when Sol catches his eye and adds, “If you're still in the mood for more when we get home, trust me, there's plenty I want from you.”
The words are blunt and demanding, and should they really seem like the most intimate thing Sol's ever said to him?
The only reply Ky succeeds in coming up with is, “Which is the fastest way back?”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-07-31 05:03 pm (UTC)And let me tell you, you've pulled off "elaborate metaphor for gay sex" way better than Anne Rice ever did.
A+++!
no subject
Date: 2009-08-02 02:02 am (UTC)=D (I am always nervous I've overdone or underdone these kinds of scenes, it's so great to have them well recieved.)
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Date: 2009-07-31 06:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-02 02:08 am (UTC)*g* Heh, thanks.
Ky thought so too. ;)no subject
Date: 2009-07-31 06:22 pm (UTC)It finally occurred to me that it's rather ironic to have a vampire named 'Sol', given their weakness against the sun OTL
And, forgot to mention this in last chapter's comment, but the image of Sol setting a bunch of frilly, squealing vampires on fire is priceless.
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Date: 2009-08-02 02:49 am (UTC)And, forgot to mention this in last chapter's comment, but the image of Sol setting a bunch of frilly, squealing vampires on fire is priceless.
*g* Believe me, I was very much hoping people would enjoy that image as much as I did.
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Date: 2009-08-01 05:08 am (UTC)So this was my comment:
:3
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Date: 2009-08-02 02:47 am (UTC)(♥)
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Date: 2009-08-01 07:26 am (UTC)Like, seriously. Wow.
Was not expecting the story to take this kind of turn. And of course with that kind of ending..... Between the narrative and imagery, I am most certainly floored. After today's mishap this was a great pick-me-up, thank you! Can't wait to see what you have in store for the next part!
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Date: 2009-08-02 02:46 am (UTC)Was it really that surprising though? I've been promising smut since the first part (all very much part of the vampire-AU tradition, after all). And I think you can probably make a pretty good guess what's going to be in the next part. ;)
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Date: 2009-08-02 11:14 pm (UTC)I don't know...something like that. My mind's been too muddled lately to be able to put much thought behind it, but it was a pleasant read and I figure that's all that matters.
And I think you can probably make a pretty good guess what's going to be in the next part. ;)
I could assume, but I'd rather be surprised ^_^