The bars are temples...

[godofcologne]

Characters: Thomas and Sam
Time: January 23rd - sometime
Location: The Redhead Piano Bar
Content: Looking for love in all the wrong places. Or something.
Format: Prose.
Warnings: Hungry vampire, amnesiac demonic vessel. What could go wrong, I ask you.

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[godofcologne]

Despite the fact that sensuality and the promise of smoldering heat clung to Thomas like a palpable second skin, the eyes that watched as Sam stood up were very cold eyes, predatory and calculating, inhuman. Those eyes raked Sam from head to toe as Thomas chuckled, the sound of his voice heavy with amusement and that same intoxicating pull.

So the buck thinks he can outrun the hunter? That he can bargain? We will let him run. We will catch him. And teach him he is no more that flesh and blood. He will run, then he will scream. And he will beg for us with every breath.What little part of Thomas still cared, what little part of him that hadn't been caught by his own demonic desires, had to admire Sam's willpower, even as he despaired that he had fallen too far again. Thomas slid out of his seat in the booth, the beer forgotten, and took a single step into Sam's personal space. He didn't touch the other man, but he was close enough to feel the heat radiating from skin, to feel the tension thrumming between bodily desire and mental

[godofcologne]

If Thomas had been more aware, he might have mentioned the protection himself. But if Thomas had been more aware, he wouldn't have been pinning Sam against a wall, his fingers tracing the path of the zipper along the front of Sam's pants.

But then again, maybe he still would have.

Sam's touch was like fire against Thomas' cool skin, and he arched back into the touch involuntarily. One hand continued rucking up the front of Sam's hirt, nails scraping against skin, while the other continued running lightly along the front of Sam's pants, alternating long, stroking touches with too-light tugs at the fastened zipper.

[huntingmemory]

"I am wearing way too many layers," Sam muttered, rocking against Thomas' touch against the front of his jeans. He was feeling hotter, himself, gasping as Thomas stroked him again through the denim.

He managed to get himself coordinated enough to start pulling Thomas' shirt all the way up to be discarded. Which meant losing touch in certain places, but meant gaining more. If Sam could manage to get his own off as well.

[godofcologne]

Sam's muttered words provoked another laugh, warm and low and honeyed, as Thomas obliged the other man and pulled away just long enough to toss his shirt somewhere behind him. He could feel the pain in his shoulder ebb, the life that was flowing into him already working on his injuries. The gouges that the Skinwalker had ripped in his right side were still visible, though now only bright red and tender.

Not that any of that mattered for the moment, not when every fiber of him, body, soul, and demon, demanded more. Thomas kissed Sam again, pressing back up against the other man as he peeled off the offending layers with practiced efficiency. His hips still moved against Sam's in a delicious, teasing rhythm.

[huntingmemory]

Sam's eyesight was a lot better than most peoples would have been, given everything. Because Thomas was damned distracting, but he saw those gouges. He laid his hand carefully against them after the clothing was gone, his other hand dropping to Thomas' hip, tugging him in tighter as he followed that rhythm. He tilted his head, his mouth and tongue falling into the rhythm as well.

[godofcologne]

The touch against Thomas' healing side was unexpected and the hand that wasn't teasingly undoing the other man's zipper caught Sam's wrist in a firm, but not (yet) inhumanly strong, grip. "Don't think so, sweetheart," Thomas said. His voice was low and breathless, but there was a hint of something dark and steely lurking beneath the velvet pull.

His demon was sinking deep, spinning lust and desire out of heat and touch, feeding and drinking but still restless, endlessly seeking some crack, some flaw, in that glass barrier that protected Sam from the full force of its touch. Thomas wasn't interested in reining it in, not when the perpetual feeling of emptiness was starting to ebb. He pressed against Sam again, momentarily pinning the hand that had been at his side against the wall, and slipped his own hand under Sam's waistband, his touch cool against heated flesh.

[huntingmemory]

Sam murmured an apology, sinking into the touches and kisses again. He should have known that the injuries probably still hurt. They were still rather raw looking and that was dumb of him to have done. Still, Thomas wasn't pulling away, so that was a good thing, right?

The glass was unmoveable, allowing the demon so deep and no further. It could draw Sam's life and energy away from him, feed the lust and desire already spiraling through Sam's mind and body, but couldn't sink in all the way. Which, probably, was a good thing. Probably a really good thing.

Sam, on the other hand, was pretty much oblivious to it, arching into Thomas' touch with a soft cry, pinned hand twisting and trying to get loose.

[godofcologne]

If Thomas was ever to reflect on the experience, he might think it a relief, to be able to feed without ever delving deep enough to meddle with another's mind. But that would require a certain amount of peace with what he was that Thomas was not yet willing to have. The barrier's immovability didn't keep the demon from trying, from wanting the upper hand, from whispering the need to take, the desire to bend and break.

Sam's soft cry was like wine on his tongue, intoxicating and encouraging, and Thomas smiled, the expression touched with predatory hunger, as he kept Sam's hand pinned. He nipped at the other man's throat again, teeth scraping against the pounding pulse point, as he slid his hand further into Sam's pants, alternating sure strokes with featherlight teasing touches.

[huntingmemory]

His other hand was free, though it didn't move because Sam was torn as to what to do. Part of him wanted to grab hold of Thomas' hair and pull his head back for another kiss. Another part wanted to push beneath Thomas' trousers, cup and stroke in the same way. He wanted Thomas as turned on as he was.

He ended up with a compromise, of sorts. His hand moved back up into Thomas' hair, tugging hard enough to sting, though he didn't really try to move Thomas away from his throat. That, he found, he actually rather liked. His legs moved, though, so that he could press his thigh up between Thomas' legs with insistent pressure.

[godofcologne]

If anything, his demon's inability to break through whatever it was that protected Sam simply made it more insistent. Insolent buck, already craving our touch. If we cannot have his mind, then we will writ our passage on his flesh, etch the memory of desire into his very bones.A purr of amusement rose from deep within Thomas' throat as Sam's hand tightened in his hair and the other man's thigh pressed against him, heated and insistent. He returned the favour, grinding back against Sam in a tortuously slow rhythm. He always did like this part, when desire sang in his prey's flesh, when they knew that they wanted, but were too full of sensation to really think about what to do

[huntingmemory]

It took a minute for Sam to realize that his other hand was free again. Probably because Thomas was doing such things with both his hands that it was incredibly hard to notice much of anything that didn't concern them or the other man's mouth.

"You...play dirty," Sam accused, managing to peel his hand away from the wall and wrap it around Thomas, scraping his nails down Thomas' back. "You...fuck, yeah, that's really good."

[godofcologne]

Sam's fingers raked trails of fire down his back and Thomas hissed in unexpected pleasure as he arched, pressing as much skin as possible into Sam's touch. It was only a momentary break in the rhythm he'd set, but a reaction nonetheless, proving that Thomas was just as susceptible to touch as his current partner.

His rhythm disrupted, Thomas took the opportunity to stop stroking, both hands now tugging and sliding Sam's pants past his hips. He chuckled again, trailing a line of kisses up Sam's throat and along his jawline, tracing the curve until he could flick his tongue out to trace the outer shell of Sam's ear.

"You have no idea."

[huntingmemory]

Oh, thank GOD. Sam was actually starting to wonder a bit. He shuddered, arching up from the wall as Thomas worked on getting his pants down. It took a few moments for him to get his brain together to attempt to get Thomas' off as well.

He managed to draw in a deep breath, closing his eyes and tilting his head to press his lips to Thomas' jaw. "So show me."

[godofcologne]

Having slid Sam's pants over his hips, Thomas didn't bother finishing the process, instead sliding his hands up Sam's torso, nails scraping, as Sam pressed a kiss to his jaw. The silver in his eyes caught the light as Thomas' hands ran back down Sam's arms, pushing them away from fumbling at his pants.

Sam had barely finished speaking when Thomas' grip on Sam's wrists tightened, pinning them both to the wall with a strength that was definitely supernatural. At the same time, he slid to his knees with serpentine grace, somehow managing the motion while touching as much bare skin as possible. There was a half second of anticipation, Thomas' grip on Sam's wrists tightening to ensure the man was fully pinned against the wall before he took Sam in his mouth with one fluid motion.

[huntingmemory]

It should have scared him. The definite supernatural strength, the look in Thomas' eyes. It should have made him want to run away as fast as he could.

Not that he would have gotten very far with his hands pinned they way they were.

Instead, Sam groaned, head falling back against the wall as he tried his damnedest to keep his hips against the wall as well. It wasn't easy, since Thomas' mouth was really, really nice and he wanted to move.

[godofcologne]

They never ran, which was the crux of the entire problem. Even Justine, the only person who knew everything about what he was, even Justine had stayed, in the end.

Thomas took his time, working slowly with lips and tongue, all the way up Sam's length and back down. He could feel the almost desperate tension in the other man, at once trying to stay completely still and needing to move, to buck his hips in response. When he had demonstrated exactly what he could continue doing, Thomas pulled away, rising back to his feet with that same supernatural fluidity and pulling Sam's wrists over his head.

Thomas trapped them both in one hand, the grip now only strong for a human, and returned to kissing the side of Sam's neck as if nothing else had happened, his free hand running down Sam's side again before resuming its steady, stroking rhythm.