ruffians | vampire trash? me?

Entry tags:

vampire trash? me?

[It's been on his mind a lot over the last few weeks, the idea of becoming a vampire. Partially because he's looking older than Arthur these days, and if he lets that go on too long it's going to get pretty weird, but moreover he just feels ready]

[Anxious as fuck, but ready.]

[The idea of it is terrifying — he'd gone to Mal for an explanation of the finer details rather than worry Arthur with his questions, seeing as she's actually done it before and Arthur hasn't — the idea that he could just... Die. It's not one that sits easy with Eames. He rather likes being alive, in fact half the point of becoming a vampire is to keep being alive, for a stretch on the word, forever.]

[So he's been dealing with that a lot, pretending otherwise whenever Arthur notices him being distant or pensive so he can work out his feelings on this without any outside influence. He knows Arthur wouldn't be mad if he changed his mind, it's a huge change to undertake, but it's not that he might not want this so much as wondering if the risks are really worth it.]

[They are.]

[But now they need to talk about it, so Eames is psyching himself up to do exactly that. Offered to stay in and make dinner while Arthur's off doing his errands to give himself some time alone to think about it. Maybe making some significant progress on a bottle of wine to calm his nerves, maybe it'll slow him down enough Arthur won't realise how keyed up he is the second he gets home.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Eames tilts his head, watching Arthur's expression and listening to his tone.]

I'll be honest, it sounds pretty good. Speaking as someone who was still breathing not too long ago.

[Arthur shakes his head.]

I don’t think you’d feel the same way if you saw the way she goes through them.

I'm not saying it is good. Just that I see the appeal.

[His tone shifts a little as he's talking, a little more detached and more businesslike, like when he's handling something to do with work. If their roles were reversed, if Eames were the centuries-old vampire here, he'd certainly be more like Antonia than he'd be like Arthur, he can already tell that much. Part of him already considering the logistics of something like this at his own bar until he shakes it off as a nightmare that would end with too many bodies to be worth it.]

[He sighs and leans back in his seat.]

A few years of lavish living with a beautiful woman in exchange for a little blood isn't a concept that's difficult to be suckered in by.

[Arthur sighs and leans back against Eames’ arm.]

I guess I don’t remember being young and alive like that. I think I have a little too much perspective to find any of that very attractive.

[Eames huffs a small laugh and tilts his head a little towards Arthur.]

This is better anyway.

It's the best way I could have imagined it.

[He starts to lean in but just at that moment the door starts to open and the smell of fresh blood fills the room. Arthur's hand goes to Eames' chest immediately, ready to pin him to the couch if he moves to get up. Antonia walks in with two glasses on a tray, announcing that it's fresh from the vein as she moves to set the tray down on the table in front of them. Arthur nods his thanks and tells her they can settle payment afterwards with a haste in his voice that suggests he's far more focused on letting Eames have a taste than he is in entertaining her any longer.]

[She leaves and Arthur drops his hand.]

[It takes every ounce of self-control Eames has not to try and rush for that tray the second the door opens and the smell of fresh blood floods in. It's almost unreal, something about it that reminds him of steam on a fresh coffee, and fills him some need to drink it before it dissipates. Before it dies. He lowers his head, looking at Arthur's hand on his chest in some attempt to hide just how hard he's clenching his jaw and swallowing a noise in the back of his throat that might be a growl.]

[When Arthur had told him about this, what Eames had imagined was the two of them enjoying a glass of blood together, something sophisticated and refined. Maybe they'd flirt a little, go home and fuck. Or just make use of the room if Arthur was amenable. What actually happens is nothing like that, and Eames isn't even fully aware of his actions. All he knows is one second he was on the couch, and then he has one of those glasses clutched in both hands, standing next to the table as he gulps it down as if he's been suffering a drought and this is the first glimpse of water he's seen in days.]

[Maybe some time in the future they'll get there, to that sophisticated date Eames imagined, but right now this is going about as Arthur expected. He watches Eames carefully as he picks up the second glass, which is warm in his hands, and only stops watching him for a moment as he enjoys the first sip. It's been less than a week since he's had it fresh - the hunger's only just started to come back - but there's a kind of spark there that is somehow all-encompassing. It lights up all his senses at once.]

[For those blessed few moments that there's anything in that glass, Eames isn't aware of anything except how it makes him feel so close to being right that having this taste is almost worse than having nothing at all. The way it feels like sparks firing along his synapses, like everything's almost running at full speed.]

[It's not enough. He uses his tongue and fingers to get everything out of the glass that he can, and it's not enough. Dimly, some part of him is aware that if he can push through this need he'll realise how fucking good he feels right now, but a much louder, instinct-driven part of him wants to drink and never stop as if that'll finally sate that hunger. He looks at Arthur, remembering the other glass, and for a flicker of a moment he honestly looks ready to attack him for the glass in his hand.]

[If it wasn't Arthur he probably would.]

[That flicker of violence passes though, and Eames makes some attempt to occupy his senses by wiping at the corner of his mouth with his thumb and licking the blood off.]

[Arthur sees it. He's watching, of course, ready just in case Eames decides to run out of the room and find the source for more. It's a terrifying half second that has Arthur's guard up immediatey, so quickly that he scares himself at what he might do if Eames were to lose control and lunge at him. He's never had to be afraid of him before. No human could hope to match him for strength, but a brand new vampire might, especially with the right motivation.]

[He takes another gulp of the blood and considers it a moment before he holds it out for Eames to take.]

[Eames looks at the glass, it takes longer than he'd really like to consider to tear his gaze away, and he shakes his head. He didn't actually do anything, but he still feels ashamed in the moment and it's obvious in the way he draws inward on himself and can't make himself look at Arthur.]

[It's not what he did or didn't do so much as that loss of control, it's what he could've done that has him feeling unlike himself, and he doesn't like it.]

[Arthur raises his eyebrows in mild surprise and pulls back his hand. It really does need to be downed fast before it cools, so Arthur tilts his head and throws back the last quarter pint and sets the empty glass down on the table.]

Eames, comes sit back down.

[Eames does as he's told, setting his own glass down next to Arthur's and takes a seat next to him. Still with a frown on his face, even as he tries not to overthink everything.]

[Arthur wraps an arm around Eames’ shoulders and pulls him close, turning his head to nose at Eames’ temple.]

I know you don’t think so, but you’re doing well.

[He laughs, but it's forced and a little weak, staring at his hands and the small streaks of drying blood on his fingers. There's still blood on Arthur's breath and smells so, so good, it makes Eames turn his head away a little just so he doesn't do something stupid. He doesn't know what it would be, but really that's the problem.]

Doesn't feel like it right now.

[The knowledge that there's a group of people just next door that he could feed on doesn't help right now either. He can't really trust himself to do anything except sit here and even that isn't a given.]

I know.

[He relents on the affection for now but doesn’t take his arm from around Eames’ shoulders.]

All you have to do is make it through this first week without doing something that makes you hate yourself. Then you can worry about your first month, then your first three months...

[He leans back and sighs through his nose.]

I’m not going to pretend you’re never going to do anything you regret. I just want to try and make sure you’ve had enough time to feel like you’re enjoying yourself first.

I wasn't in control. It's almost like I blacked out.

[Eames leans with him, sighing too.]

That's what bothers me.

[Arthur nods, looking down at his lap as he thinks that over.]

This whole existence comes with a hunger, Eames. You've only just started to satisfy it tonight, and that's longer than most go. I don't even know how long a new vampire can go before they've had fresh blood; that's part of why I wanted to get down here before too long.

[He looks around at the room and then at Eames, affectionate and sympathetic.]

Eventually you'll get to a point where you're comfortable, where you know you can have it whenever you like so the urges aren't so overwhelming, but first you probably have to fully satisfy that hunger.

[He huffs another tired laugh and shakes his head.]

Doesn't even feel possible right now.

I know.

[It'd be easy to tell Eames to just go out and get it but he's committed to making sure this transition has no casualties, for Eames' sake. That makes this a bit of an uphill battle, but they'll get there. He decides not to talk strategy at the moment, however.]

Do you feel it at all?

[Eames quietly decides he doesn't care about anyone coming in because he's feeling a lot all at once and he wants some affection. He shifts to pull himself onto Arthur's lap and sighs, curling in a little so he can tuck his head against Arthur's neck. He'd joked before about Arthur's scent being comforting, but he's starting to think it might actually be the case, out of familiarity or something else he's not sure, and there's too much going on for him to consider it.]

Less restless. Feels closer to being right.

[Arthur hums, wrapping his arms around Eames loosely. He still misses the heartbeat he used to hear, the heat coming off him in waves with his pulse. His love and desire to be around Eames hasn't wavered in the slightest but having those things gone after a decade of their presence is taking some getting used to.]

I want to get you there. You know that, right?

I know.

[He's quiet for a moment or two, just thinking, and after a moment or two passes Eames tilts his head up to nose at Arthur's jaw in hopes of a kiss. He'd like to say it has nothing to do with how he can still smell the blood on his breath, but there's also a significant part of him that just really wants to kiss Arthur right now too.]

[Arthur kisses him back eagerly, letting Eames taste the blood on his tongue. His body feels so good beneath his hands and just like every other time Arthur feels like he could spend hours mapping it all out.]

[Eames moans softly and straightens up so he can properly lean into the kiss, kissing Arthur like he intends to taste every bit of him. It moves from gentle to intense quickly, like something fires up in Eames once he gets that initial taste.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject