[ Jericho doesn't have a lot of rules in his life, no matter what his over-invested and overbearing sister might say, but a pretty steadfast one is 'don't get involved with vampires'. If he was being particular, it might have a sub-clause that added 'definitely don't get involved with vampires this damn close to the full moon, you idiot', but, well.
Turns out that there are exceptions to rules.
There shouldn't be, is the thing. That's the point of rules in the first place, and the reason he has so many of them (not too many, thank you 'Lupe, just enough). The rules keep him safe. Keep the people he cares about safe. Three locks on the bookshop door. Four on the one that leads to the basement.
Heavy metal collar that's far too big when he's human but almost chokingly small when he's a wolf. Never make plans the day before or the day after a full moon in case the Hunger takes him early and he can't get away. Safest to just--hole up in his own personal torture chamber for the duration and ride the whole thing out.
It's a system that's kept him from inflicting this sort of life on anyone else and kept him from--well. The things his Wolf demands he do. The possessive things. The frightening things. The--
The point is there are rules for a reason. And yet.
And yet here he is the night before a full moon, feeling the tug of it under his skin like an itch he can't scratch in the company of a vampire who, for reasons beyond his comprehension, fascinates him.
Jericho leans back on the couch and watches as Larus moves around the room, brown eyes flecked with bits of gold curious and undeniably hungry as he observes, but6 he's had more than enough practice pushing down the latter urge. No point in--upsetting a tenuous alliance by pouncing on the person you're trying to convince into helping you, even if he does seem like he could use a good fu--
--that's another sub-clause he's adding right now:
'Don't get involved with vampires in the biblical sense'. So mote it be, or whatever you're supposed to say in these situations.]
It'll sound better, if it comes from both of us. [ He argues, even if they've gone over this before ] She's not likely to listen to my Claim on the area without a proper Pack to back it up, but two of us arguing to get her goons out of the neighborhood? That holds more weight.
[ He has to stop grimacing every time he pulls in a breath.
It's the smell, he tells himself. That wolf smell that tries to claw its way down his throat and suffocate him when he doesn't even need to breathe. And rather than pretend to be something that he's not, Larus ignores it and doesn't mimic the respiratory function he's lacked since he'd been turned. That settles part of him for the time being, casting furtive glances around the room he currently occupies. What other secrets would he find if he prodded hard enough? Were there any to even interest him?
Despite a long list of other things he hasn't sorted through, Jericho's voice is a strangely warm cadence to him. It nearly makes up for the scent that clings to him and every inch of the place he's standing in. ]
A diplomatic solution, [ Larus says eventually, crossing the distance between them to stand a little closer. ] But you know as well as I do that it isn't going to solve anything.
[ There have been a handful of rumors circulating around some rich idiots moving in on Pack and vampire territories. As much as Larus loathed getting involved with such politics, it made it difficult to move around freely with more obstacles in the way. In the past week, he hasn't been able to reach any of his contacts in the red bars in the area Jericho's talking about.
He frowns and finally takes a seat next to him, uncomfortably aware of the heat radiating from him. ]
We could kill them. They'll think twice about it if they know there's no chance they'll survive. [ His voice is calm, cool. Not that he makes jokes, but he means this with utter seriousness. ]
[ There are secrets tucked in the apartment he keeps over the bookshop--the one they're both in right now. If Larus looked through the piled bookshelves he could find research; scraps of paper that lead to breadcrumbs of things, the movements of Packs around the area, the subtle changes in moon cycles, notes on Wolf behavior.
And other things too; faded pictures of a life that he left behind years ago tucked just out of sight, close to the surface but hidden from daily view. The sort of thing that happens when you--
--well. There's a reason he has precisely one sister who speaks to him. Larus doesn't need to know about it ]
I don't know that it isn't going to solve anything [ he argues back, even though if he gives it half a second of genuine thought he actually does. These aren't the kind of people who just turn tail and run when it's pointed out to them that they're invading someone else's territory. As a matter of fact, Jericho is reasonably sure the whole point of them is to invade places where Others live and make life for them as hard as possible.
He puffs out a sigh and rubs a hand over his face, knocking his glasses askew in the process. He rights them in time to look over at the vampire--eyes widening behind the lenses as Larus offers what he must assume is a reasonable solution.]
You can't be serious! [ he protests, bristling despite himself (it's the Wolf, and the Moon, and not at all that this vampire gets under his skin with expert precision) ] We're not killing anyone. I have spent the past fifteen years going out of my way to make sure I don't kill anyone [ kill anyone else, that is ] and I'm not about to change that now.
[ if Larus took the Wolf with him though--he could just point Jericho in the right direction and he'd kill just about anything in his path. ]
[ Something about that answer annoys him. Extremely.
Rather than push past it and offer another solution, of which there are actually very few, he turns to look at the man sitting next to him. He has to make the conscious effort not to reach over and snatch the glasses from his face. Or possibly pin him to the cushions of the sofa and choke an agreement out of him. It's a tempting thought that he sits with even as his expression shifts into something rather displeased. ]
Then what do you want to do? Talking to them has had little effect; you know that as well as I do. Bribing them won't work either. They have more than enough money. [ And this time, Larus does lean into Jericho's personal space. If he breathes, he'll be drowning in that smell. ] You asked me here for this, and that's all I've got for you.
[ Besides, they're both monsters. Larus holds onto the power and skill he has as a vampire while Jericho seems to struggle with it. Or perhaps he's much more adept at holding the leash, and how could he fault him for something like that? It's the very reason he goes weeks without eating, how he's practically starving right now, and that does little in helping him plan positively when there are plenty of people he could tear apart without feeling much remorse.
He frowns sharply. ]
Kill, don't kill – I don't care. I'll do it if you're so worried about it, but unless you have something better, that's the plan.
[ Besides, he doesn't have the luxury of spending daylight hours outside. There's a very small window of opporunity, and right now, that's all Larus is working with. ]
[ You can scowl at him all you want, Larus, but he's not going to change his mind about murdering people--no matter how annoying they might be.]
I don't know. [ Comes the quiet protest, and he'd say more, he would, except his breath is caught somewhere in his throat as Larus leans forward into his space, the scent of him cold and crisp with just the chase of blood to the end of it. It's been a while since he's fed, Jericho can tell from the smell--
--the Wolf pushes at him, Hungry and Insistent, and he presses his hands down into the threadbare cushions of the couch, fighting the urge to grab this vampire by the collar and shake him into compliance or kiss him until he shuts up with that ridiculous frown of his--or, hell he doesn't know, because he never knows what these instincts of his push at him to do, and it's why he keeps such a damn lock on it.
Or a collar.
He growls, and fights the urge to turn it into a whine. He manages, just barely ]
There's not time for it tonight anyway. And tomorrow I'll be--
[ he waves a hand, swallowing and trying to ignore the fact that the vampire is still impossibly close to him ] indisposed. So we've got three days to come up with something that isn't killing. There's got to be something.
[ Infuriating is something Larus associates with most things in life that bother him. But this? This is agonizing.
He's attuned to Jericho's responses, hearing the slight catch of his breath and noticing the way his entire body shifts to practically tear at the fabric of the couch. The growl surprises him though, a visceral sort of sound that agitates something primal in him—either to flee or fight. Larus never runs though, and all this does is force his focus on every part of Jericho that's screaming at him because he's sitting so close.
There's the slightest roll of his eyes. ] You ask me here on a full moon to wait three days? That's a waste of time.
[ Of course it is. Jericho could have simply texted or called him if that had been the case. Unless —
Larus doesn't think too much about it. In a blink, he's in Jericho's lap, knees caging his hips and his weight pushing him into the sofa cushions as his fingers curl into his hair and grip. When he meets Jericho's gaze, there's something intense in the way he looks at him, and it doesn't help that Larus' own senses are overwhelmed by his warmth and the chaotic rhythm of Jericho's heartbeat. ]
If you're afraid, I'll do it. You won't have to kill anyone. [ And he says it so nonchalantly as he keeps his hand where it is in Jericho's hair. ]
I asked you here the night before a full moon [ He snaps, but the anger has more to do with the fact that he's having to dig his hands into the couch cushion below him to keep from wrapping his hands against Larus' hips and--
--he presses back against the couch cushions even as everything in him is screaming to press forward, into the feeling of the vampire against him. Above him. Boxing him in. ]
If it was a full moon I'd be a lot hairier. With much sharper teeth.
[ he drags in a breath, and then another ] I'm not afraid.
A little wolf, right? Locked away somewhere so you can't hurt anyone.
[ He doesn't know why he says it, only that it's spoken sharply as he slides his hand down from Jericho's hair and presses it against his throat. A squeeze, and Larus is so close to his face that he can feel his breath against his mouth.
There's a light flash of fang. ]
Tell me what it is then, Jericho. If it's not fear, what is it? We could destroy them just as easily tonight. Not tomorrow, not three days from now. Tonight. [ His fingers squeeze again, enticing more than threatening. ] Anyway, I don't need to listen to you. I'll just go on my own.
[ And remove them all from the equation without Jericho's permission. ]
[ The tugs to his hair, the press of that hand--actually strong enough to do damage--are twisting together, the sensations of it sharp and heady as they merge and prickle under his skin, finding the Hunger there are feeding it, all of it visceral and instinct and he is trying to keep it together but then Larus goes and pokes at all the holes he knows about and Jericho is quickly--
There's another growl and one of his hands does give up the ghost, wrapping around the vampire's thigh, digging in, hot against cold even with the fabric between them. He should push Larus away, toss him across the room--this close to the Moon and he probably could, but instead his grip holds the man tighter, keeps him in his lap, perched there, sharing the same damn breath if Larus ever breathed]
There's nothing small about it [ he snarls, but he can't deny the rest of it ] but yes, I keep myself chained up, chewing on my own damn limbs and tearing up my basement because I don't kill people. It's not fear. It's--
[ What is it, Jericho? What is it, exactly? He shakes his head and growls, again, low and frustrated. What is he even doing? ] It's atonement. It's not wanting to curse anyone else with this. Because if they're not quite dead when we leave, they wake up like me.
And what--you'll kill them tonight and you'll manage not to feed? I can smell how long it's been, Larus. You try to kill them tonight and you'll end up with their blood in more places than your hands.
[ It's a slow break, the kind he sees in Jericho's movements as his hands anchor him there with a kind of desperation Larus understands. A bitter need he ignores, twisting it into something else until it snaps and leaves him with the pieces of a vicious aftermath. If he cared, he would let it go and leave. Spend a few days stalking the Underground and trying to replenish some of his lost strength. That's what happens when he doesn't feed anyway, a slow degradation of some of his senses; he's still strong enough to tear Jericho apart, but if he changed... it'd be difficult.
And he's pressing dangerously close to some of Larus' own personal wounds. Still, it's not enough.
He lets his nails scratch lightly into Jericho's skin. ]
Do you think I care? They're nothing. I don't know why you can't see that. [ His fingers flex, and for a moment, a very brief moment, he closes his eyes to savor the wash of Jericho's breath and the heat of his touch soaking into him. ] They made their choice when they tried to make a claim. If we don't end it, someone else will. It won't be mercy then, either. They'll be tortured or restrained in someone's cellar to drip dry for anyone vampire willing to pay the price they set.
[ He knows because it's happened to him. It's been done to him, and he was a vampire. Some are sick enough to cannibalize their own. ]
And you believe that would be the end of it? There are plenty of others out there willing to do much worse. [ A slight tilt of his face, and their noses touch. ] So stop. Don't talk to me about atoning when you're too afraid to take what you want.
[ They could argue it all night. They could argue it until the sun comes up and Jericho trudges down his steps to chain himself up in his basement. But Larus doesn't care to do that, annoyed with Jericho and himself, and it's why he uses both hands to cup the sides of his face to yank him in for a hard kiss that knocks their teeth together before he gets his tongue in his mouth to taste him. ]
[ This is not how Jericho expected this night to go. He invited Larus here to talk. To brainstorm. But somehow this man manages to get under his skin like no one he's ever met, manages to push and push and push at his buttons and now? Right now he doesn't have the self control to stop it. Yesterday, maybe, he could have.
Today? Today instead of biting back a retort about how they're still humans, and they owe them at least the chance to walk away before it gets messy he lets Larus cup his face and he does whine into the kiss, pressing up and into him, biting at his lip and dragging it back with his teeth before soothing over it with a quick tongue.
One hand comes up from the vampire's thighs to settle at his back; firm, heavy, possessive as it holds him there ]
You [ he bites out between them as they (as he has to) come up for air, before diving back in and punctuating the words in the breaths he has to steal ] are insufferable.
[ For once, Larus refuses to allow himself to think. If he does, he's going to walk away from this and never look back, and in hindsight, he should. This is only going to complicate things later on. He has enough of that in his life, and he doesn't need to add a wolf to the mess that's become his day to day. Jericho wouldn't like it, and from what he's seen, he'd probably complain about it until it drove him mad.
But all he does is lean back and press his fingers to Jericho's mouth. ]
Stop talking.
[ He doesn't want to hear it. There's nothing left to say if all they're going to do is argue, and Larus lets his hands wander along Jericho's front, tugging at his shirt and pulling at the button of his pants. He should break the hold he has on him and get between his thighs, but Larus doesn't mind the possessive grip Jericho has on him, instead shifting his weight to get better leverage so he can touch him. ]
[ Overthinking things is Jericho's favorite past-time. He has thought about every part of his life ad nauseam, the things he could have done differently, the things he should do differently in the future. This is something he should spend more time thinking about--because logically there is no way this can be a good idea. Larus is a vampire. Larus is--impossible. Larus gets under his skin in ways he can't explain and pushes him toward parts of himself he has worked to keep carefully under lock and key for the past fifteen years. ]
Fine [ he agrees (at least for the moment, Jericho has never actually been great at not talking) and his hands slip up, finding the edge of Larus' shirt and tugging. He may not have vampire strength outside of his wolf form, but it's still more than human, and its definitely enough to snap the buttons free and leave his shirt hanging open.
Once that skin is exposed, he has no choice but to reach out and touch, nails dragging against pale muscle, his mouth dropping down to work over the line of Larus' neck, and up against his jaw ]
[ There's a sharp retort on the tip of his tongue about his shirt, but it's immediately all background to the heat of Jericho's mouth against his skin. He groans instead, low and quiet and arching into him with the kind of depravity that only comes from forbidding himself any sort of gentle contact. With one hand still between them, the other slides around Jericho's shoulder so he can hook his arm around his neck and hold him close.
As long as he doesn't use his teeth, there won't be a problem.
In fact, in a way, it's almost sort of... nice.
But he ignores that in favor of palming him through his pants, grinding down like just the thought of getting him in his hand is enough to get him hard. Larus isn't certain of that though, switching tactics after a moment and leaning some of his weight on his knees to slip his fingers in and grip Jericho by his cock. He's so warm, and that's really the only thought in his head as he nips at his mouth and slowly begins to jerk him off. ]
[ That groan goes straight to his head, chasing away whatever thoughts he might have had about coming to his senses and putting a stop to this. He wants to hear more of those noises. Wants to see Larus fall apart for him, just a little. His mouth starts to move lover, across the juncture of a shoulder and his neck when suddenly there's a hand around his cock, and he gasps, open mouthed and desperate against bare skin. ]
Fuck-- [ The word slips out unbidden, quiet surprise lanced through the single syllable.
It's been a while since he's done this. He'd almost forgotten how good--
--Larus' hand moves against him, cool touch against overheated skin and he arches into it, tries to make space between them for Larus to move even as he presses closer, whines with it, an unintentional sound somewhere in the back of his throat. What was the rule about not getting involved biblically with vampires? Whatever it is--he's getting rid of it, starting now.
His hands slip up, tracing absent patterns on the bare skin he can find, nails dragging down over the vampire's back, over his chest, and he does press forward to mouth at that previously visited junction, working over his neck and down from there to his collar bone, the hollow of his throat ]
[ His fingers are quick to warm the longer he touches him, an expert slide of his palm and the rub of his thumb along the tip to tease him. He doesn't think about it, silent as he strokes him and presses into all of the absent ways Jericho tortures him. His mouth, his hands —
It's dizzying to feel it, conscious of the way his own body reacts even before he can stop himself from doing it. He tips his head back to expose more of his throat, an offering that Jericho probably has no idea of the meaning behind it. This isn't something he normally does, especially not with a wolf, but the temptation had driven him close to insanity the longer they'd argued, boxed in together in such a small space where he could hear every nuance of his heartbeat as the heat between them rose.
Squeezing a little harder, his free hand cups the side of Jericho's face and holds him there so he can kiss him again. ]
I can keep using my hand, [ he mutters into the kiss, letting a fang slip dangerously close to nicking him, ] Or I can use my mouth. You decide. Now.
[ there isn't a current alternative to this exchange. ]
[ Each reaction he can draw out of the usually stoic vampire feels like some kind of victory. Each little hitch of his body under Jericho's hands, every noise or shift is captured, catalogued and committed to memory. Maybe he's not the only one who is being driven crazy here.
He leans into the kiss, deepening it, teeth and tongues and the warm wet of Larus' mouth. Dios, how can he be such a dichotomy? So alive at the same time he's not, so warm at the same time all of him is cold--it's the kind of thing someone could get addicted to chasing, to trying to tease apart. Not Jericho, obviously, he can't stand the man, but someone.
There's a moment at the end of the question where he just blinks, somewhat owlishly behind his glasses, as his brain tries to process the implications of what's been offered.
Did he mention it's been a while since he did this?
Fuck.
Jericho can feel the sharp edge of that fang, the hint of danger there, the firm acknowledgement that this isn't a human, that maybe, maybe he doesn't have to be quite so careful (what would it be like, his brain wonders absently, to be bitten by a vampire? They're hardier than humans, werewolves, can take more, give more--) but Larus is still waiting for an answer and he hopes it hasn't been more than a second or two before he nods, realizes that isn't actually an answer, and then rumbles out: ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
look idk but i got you this
Turns out that there are exceptions to rules.
There shouldn't be, is the thing. That's the point of rules in the first place, and the reason he has so many of them (not too many, thank you 'Lupe, just enough). The rules keep him safe. Keep the people he cares about safe. Three locks on the bookshop door. Four on the one that leads to the basement.
Heavy metal collar that's far too big when he's human but almost chokingly small when he's a wolf. Never make plans the day before or the day after a full moon in case the Hunger takes him early and he can't get away. Safest to just--hole up in his own personal torture chamber for the duration and ride the whole thing out.
It's a system that's kept him from inflicting this sort of life on anyone else and kept him from--well. The things his Wolf demands he do. The possessive things. The frightening things. The--
The point is there are rules for a reason. And yet.
And yet here he is the night before a full moon, feeling the tug of it under his skin like an itch he can't scratch in the company of a vampire who, for reasons beyond his comprehension, fascinates him.
Jericho leans back on the couch and watches as Larus moves around the room, brown eyes flecked with bits of gold curious and undeniably hungry as he observes, but6 he's had more than enough practice pushing down the latter urge. No point in--upsetting a tenuous alliance by pouncing on the person you're trying to convince into helping you, even if he does seem like he could use a good fu--
--that's another sub-clause he's adding right now:
'Don't get involved with vampires in the biblical sense'. So mote it be, or whatever you're supposed to say in these situations.]
It'll sound better, if it comes from both of us. [ He argues, even if they've gone over this before ] She's not likely to listen to my Claim on the area without a proper Pack to back it up, but two of us arguing to get her goons out of the neighborhood? That holds more weight.
and i love it thank you
It's the smell, he tells himself. That wolf smell that tries to claw its way down his throat and suffocate him when he doesn't even need to breathe. And rather than pretend to be something that he's not, Larus ignores it and doesn't mimic the respiratory function he's lacked since he'd been turned. That settles part of him for the time being, casting furtive glances around the room he currently occupies. What other secrets would he find if he prodded hard enough? Were there any to even interest him?
Despite a long list of other things he hasn't sorted through, Jericho's voice is a strangely warm cadence to him. It nearly makes up for the scent that clings to him and every inch of the place he's standing in. ]
A diplomatic solution, [ Larus says eventually, crossing the distance between them to stand a little closer. ] But you know as well as I do that it isn't going to solve anything.
[ There have been a handful of rumors circulating around some rich idiots moving in on Pack and vampire territories. As much as Larus loathed getting involved with such politics, it made it difficult to move around freely with more obstacles in the way. In the past week, he hasn't been able to reach any of his contacts in the red bars in the area Jericho's talking about.
He frowns and finally takes a seat next to him, uncomfortably aware of the heat radiating from him. ]
We could kill them. They'll think twice about it if they know there's no chance they'll survive. [ His voice is calm, cool. Not that he makes jokes, but he means this with utter seriousness. ]
no subject
And other things too; faded pictures of a life that he left behind years ago tucked just out of sight, close to the surface but hidden from daily view. The sort of thing that happens when you--
--well. There's a reason he has precisely one sister who speaks to him. Larus doesn't need to know about it ]
I don't know that it isn't going to solve anything [ he argues back, even though if he gives it half a second of genuine thought he actually does. These aren't the kind of people who just turn tail and run when it's pointed out to them that they're invading someone else's territory. As a matter of fact, Jericho is reasonably sure the whole point of them is to invade places where Others live and make life for them as hard as possible.
He puffs out a sigh and rubs a hand over his face, knocking his glasses askew in the process. He rights them in time to look over at the vampire--eyes widening behind the lenses as Larus offers what he must assume is a reasonable solution.]
You can't be serious! [ he protests, bristling despite himself (it's the Wolf, and the Moon, and not at all that this vampire gets under his skin with expert precision) ] We're not killing anyone. I have spent the past fifteen years going out of my way to make sure I don't kill anyone [ kill anyone else, that is ] and I'm not about to change that now.
[ if Larus took the Wolf with him though--he could just point Jericho in the right direction and he'd kill just about anything in his path. ]
Killing's off the table. Next suggestion, please.
no subject
Rather than push past it and offer another solution, of which there are actually very few, he turns to look at the man sitting next to him. He has to make the conscious effort not to reach over and snatch the glasses from his face. Or possibly pin him to the cushions of the sofa and choke an agreement out of him. It's a tempting thought that he sits with even as his expression shifts into something rather displeased. ]
Then what do you want to do? Talking to them has had little effect; you know that as well as I do. Bribing them won't work either. They have more than enough money. [ And this time, Larus does lean into Jericho's personal space. If he breathes, he'll be drowning in that smell. ] You asked me here for this, and that's all I've got for you.
[ Besides, they're both monsters. Larus holds onto the power and skill he has as a vampire while Jericho seems to struggle with it. Or perhaps he's much more adept at holding the leash, and how could he fault him for something like that? It's the very reason he goes weeks without eating, how he's practically starving right now, and that does little in helping him plan positively when there are plenty of people he could tear apart without feeling much remorse.
He frowns sharply. ]
Kill, don't kill – I don't care. I'll do it if you're so worried about it, but unless you have something better, that's the plan.
[ Besides, he doesn't have the luxury of spending daylight hours outside. There's a very small window of opporunity, and right now, that's all Larus is working with. ]
no subject
I don't know. [ Comes the quiet protest, and he'd say more, he would, except his breath is caught somewhere in his throat as Larus leans forward into his space, the scent of him cold and crisp with just the chase of blood to the end of it. It's been a while since he's fed, Jericho can tell from the smell--
--the Wolf pushes at him, Hungry and Insistent, and he presses his hands down into the threadbare cushions of the couch, fighting the urge to grab this vampire by the collar and shake him into compliance or kiss him until he shuts up with that ridiculous frown of his--or, hell he doesn't know, because he never knows what these instincts of his push at him to do, and it's why he keeps such a damn lock on it.
Or a collar.
He growls, and fights the urge to turn it into a whine. He manages, just barely ]
There's not time for it tonight anyway. And tomorrow I'll be--
[ he waves a hand, swallowing and trying to ignore the fact that the vampire is still impossibly close to him ] indisposed. So we've got three days to come up with something that isn't killing. There's got to be something.
no subject
He's attuned to Jericho's responses, hearing the slight catch of his breath and noticing the way his entire body shifts to practically tear at the fabric of the couch. The growl surprises him though, a visceral sort of sound that agitates something primal in him—either to flee or fight. Larus never runs though, and all this does is force his focus on every part of Jericho that's screaming at him because he's sitting so close.
There's the slightest roll of his eyes. ] You ask me here on a full moon to wait three days? That's a waste of time.
[ Of course it is. Jericho could have simply texted or called him if that had been the case. Unless —
Larus doesn't think too much about it. In a blink, he's in Jericho's lap, knees caging his hips and his weight pushing him into the sofa cushions as his fingers curl into his hair and grip. When he meets Jericho's gaze, there's something intense in the way he looks at him, and it doesn't help that Larus' own senses are overwhelmed by his warmth and the chaotic rhythm of Jericho's heartbeat. ]
If you're afraid, I'll do it. You won't have to kill anyone. [ And he says it so nonchalantly as he keeps his hand where it is in Jericho's hair. ]
no subject
--he presses back against the couch cushions even as everything in him is screaming to press forward, into the feeling of the vampire against him. Above him. Boxing him in. ]
If it was a full moon I'd be a lot hairier. With much sharper teeth.
[ he drags in a breath, and then another ] I'm not afraid.
no subject
[ He doesn't know why he says it, only that it's spoken sharply as he slides his hand down from Jericho's hair and presses it against his throat. A squeeze, and Larus is so close to his face that he can feel his breath against his mouth.
There's a light flash of fang. ]
Tell me what it is then, Jericho. If it's not fear, what is it? We could destroy them just as easily tonight. Not tomorrow, not three days from now. Tonight. [ His fingers squeeze again, enticing more than threatening. ] Anyway, I don't need to listen to you. I'll just go on my own.
[ And remove them all from the equation without Jericho's permission. ]
no subject
There's another growl and one of his hands does give up the ghost, wrapping around the vampire's thigh, digging in, hot against cold even with the fabric between them. He should push Larus away, toss him across the room--this close to the Moon and he probably could, but instead his grip holds the man tighter, keeps him in his lap, perched there, sharing the same damn breath if Larus ever breathed]
There's nothing small about it [ he snarls, but he can't deny the rest of it ] but yes, I keep myself chained up, chewing on my own damn limbs and tearing up my basement because I don't kill people. It's not fear. It's--
[ What is it, Jericho? What is it, exactly? He shakes his head and growls, again, low and frustrated. What is he even doing? ] It's atonement. It's not wanting to curse anyone else with this. Because if they're not quite dead when we leave, they wake up like me.
And what--you'll kill them tonight and you'll manage not to feed? I can smell how long it's been, Larus. You try to kill them tonight and you'll end up with their blood in more places than your hands.
no subject
And he's pressing dangerously close to some of Larus' own personal wounds. Still, it's not enough.
He lets his nails scratch lightly into Jericho's skin. ]
Do you think I care? They're nothing. I don't know why you can't see that. [ His fingers flex, and for a moment, a very brief moment, he closes his eyes to savor the wash of Jericho's breath and the heat of his touch soaking into him. ] They made their choice when they tried to make a claim. If we don't end it, someone else will. It won't be mercy then, either. They'll be tortured or restrained in someone's cellar to drip dry for anyone vampire willing to pay the price they set.
[ He knows because it's happened to him. It's been done to him, and he was a vampire. Some are sick enough to cannibalize their own. ]
And you believe that would be the end of it? There are plenty of others out there willing to do much worse. [ A slight tilt of his face, and their noses touch. ] So stop. Don't talk to me about atoning when you're too afraid to take what you want.
[ They could argue it all night. They could argue it until the sun comes up and Jericho trudges down his steps to chain himself up in his basement. But Larus doesn't care to do that, annoyed with Jericho and himself, and it's why he uses both hands to cup the sides of his face to yank him in for a hard kiss that knocks their teeth together before he gets his tongue in his mouth to taste him. ]
no subject
Today? Today instead of biting back a retort about how they're still humans, and they owe them at least the chance to walk away before it gets messy he lets Larus cup his face and he does whine into the kiss, pressing up and into him, biting at his lip and dragging it back with his teeth before soothing over it with a quick tongue.
One hand comes up from the vampire's thighs to settle at his back; firm, heavy, possessive as it holds him there ]
You [ he bites out between them as they (as he has to) come up for air, before diving back in and punctuating the words in the breaths he has to steal ] are insufferable.
no subject
But all he does is lean back and press his fingers to Jericho's mouth. ]
Stop talking.
[ He doesn't want to hear it. There's nothing left to say if all they're going to do is argue, and Larus lets his hands wander along Jericho's front, tugging at his shirt and pulling at the button of his pants. He should break the hold he has on him and get between his thighs, but Larus doesn't mind the possessive grip Jericho has on him, instead shifting his weight to get better leverage so he can touch him. ]
no subject
Fine [ he agrees (at least for the moment, Jericho has never actually been great at not talking) and his hands slip up, finding the edge of Larus' shirt and tugging. He may not have vampire strength outside of his wolf form, but it's still more than human, and its definitely enough to snap the buttons free and leave his shirt hanging open.
Once that skin is exposed, he has no choice but to reach out and touch, nails dragging against pale muscle, his mouth dropping down to work over the line of Larus' neck, and up against his jaw ]
no subject
As long as he doesn't use his teeth, there won't be a problem.
In fact, in a way, it's almost sort of... nice.
But he ignores that in favor of palming him through his pants, grinding down like just the thought of getting him in his hand is enough to get him hard. Larus isn't certain of that though, switching tactics after a moment and leaning some of his weight on his knees to slip his fingers in and grip Jericho by his cock. He's so warm, and that's really the only thought in his head as he nips at his mouth and slowly begins to jerk him off. ]
no subject
Fuck-- [ The word slips out unbidden, quiet surprise lanced through the single syllable.
It's been a while since he's done this. He'd almost forgotten how good--
--Larus' hand moves against him, cool touch against overheated skin and he arches into it, tries to make space between them for Larus to move even as he presses closer, whines with it, an unintentional sound somewhere in the back of his throat. What was the rule about not getting involved biblically with vampires? Whatever it is--he's getting rid of it, starting now.
His hands slip up, tracing absent patterns on the bare skin he can find, nails dragging down over the vampire's back, over his chest, and he does press forward to mouth at that previously visited junction, working over his neck and down from there to his collar bone, the hollow of his throat ]
no subject
It's dizzying to feel it, conscious of the way his own body reacts even before he can stop himself from doing it. He tips his head back to expose more of his throat, an offering that Jericho probably has no idea of the meaning behind it. This isn't something he normally does, especially not with a wolf, but the temptation had driven him close to insanity the longer they'd argued, boxed in together in such a small space where he could hear every nuance of his heartbeat as the heat between them rose.
Squeezing a little harder, his free hand cups the side of Jericho's face and holds him there so he can kiss him again. ]
I can keep using my hand, [ he mutters into the kiss, letting a fang slip dangerously close to nicking him, ] Or I can use my mouth. You decide. Now.
[ there isn't a current alternative to this exchange. ]
no subject
He leans into the kiss, deepening it, teeth and tongues and the warm wet of Larus' mouth. Dios, how can he be such a dichotomy? So alive at the same time he's not, so warm at the same time all of him is cold--it's the kind of thing someone could get addicted to chasing, to trying to tease apart. Not Jericho, obviously, he can't stand the man, but someone.
There's a moment at the end of the question where he just blinks, somewhat owlishly behind his glasses, as his brain tries to process the implications of what's been offered.
Did he mention it's been a while since he did this?
Fuck.
Jericho can feel the sharp edge of that fang, the hint of danger there, the firm acknowledgement that this isn't a human, that maybe, maybe he doesn't have to be quite so careful (what would it be like, his brain wonders absently, to be bitten by a vampire? They're hardier than humans, werewolves, can take more, give more--) but Larus is still waiting for an answer and he hopes it hasn't been more than a second or two before he nods, realizes that isn't actually an answer, and then rumbles out: ]
Your mouth.