Anson's leaning casually against the doorframe as the door swings open. He's dressed, rather unusually, in a suit, having just come from a meeting with one of the firm's larger clients. It's not a role he plays often, but he managed to remember his lines and not bump into the furniture. He was halfway back to the car before he glanced around and realized he was in a neighborhood he recognized. Percy's building was here, wasn't it? Yes, just a few streets back. He'd stood on the street corner, hesitating, then deciding, an odd smile on his face as he turned and strode in the opposite direction from the one he'd intended.
He's still smiling as he surveys his host, his arms folded, his long black topcoat unbuttoned and hanging open, the cold still clinging to the wool.
Percy frowned as he tilted his head to the side, blinking before stepping back to let Anson in the door. Curiously he stared, eyes glancing at the shades of color that danced brightly about the hallway before he shut the door firmly.
His home was darker than most crypts, and perhaps just as cold as the air outside. There was, in some small part, an advantage in being mostly dead. Heat and cold seemed to have very little effect on you personally.
"The sun is still up..." He remarked, a light flicking on across the room, brushing the hallway in a warm light. Percy only moved away from the door slowly, as if he was still not sure what to make of unhappy thoughts, and unexpected company.
"Yeah, sorry," Anson says casually, strolling in and taking a look around. "I was in the neighborhood." Nice touch, he thinks wryly as Percy turns the lights on from across the room. Definitely a lot cooler than The Clapper.
Picturing Percy with a Clapper elicits an undignified snort, which he quickly disguises as a cough. He crosses the room and takes a seat on the couch, electing to keep his coat on for the moment, seeing as the room temperature seems to be a degree or two above meat locker.
"I brought you a little something," Anson says, reaching into his coat pocket and extracting a bottle of Tanqueray. He leans over and puts it on the table, then settles back, his legs crossed, one arm lying casually along the back of the couch. "My mother taught me never to come empty-handed."
"What happened to the last time you were here, then?" Percy asked, almost snidely as he hedged closer to the couch. The gin was inviting, but he was more worried about the motives than anything.
Eying Anson, he moved around the couch carefully reaching out to pick up the bottle as he frowned. "What brings you here?" He asked softly, toying with the top as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to open it or not. "I'm not obligated to be pleasant company."
Momentarily weakened, Anson leans on Percy, his head dropping down to rest on Percy's shoulder. He slips his arms around Percy's waist, hanging on tight. Fuck...smells so good...so fucking good... He feels Percy's hands moving over his skin, sensuous and deliberate, pleasure chasing the pain away.
Anson lifts his head, one hand snaking up to clutch at the back of Percy's head. His fingers slide through the wet black hair and his mouth finds Percy's. He kisses him then, deep and hot and wanting. He can taste his own blood on Percy's tongue, but far from repulsing him, it only seems to make him want Percy more. His hands slide down to cup the pale mounds of Percy's ass, fingers squeezing the firm flesh. He groans into Percy's mouth as he finally breaks the kiss.
"Shouldn't...shouldn't do this," he pants. "It's not right..."
Percy whined a little when Anson pulled away, panting about moral high ground in a manner that made Percy scowl. Not right, not right...What the hell did it matter if it felt good?
"No' right for you or me?" He asked, voice hinting at annoyance as he slipped his arms about the man's neck. "No' right to do what? Wha's wrong with takin' a little pleasure, eh? You are always squeaking about it.."
His fingers played in the soft, wet curls of Anson's hair line, lips pressing against Anson's shoulder as he closed his eyes. Not right? What did it matter really...
Anson groans again, softly, as Percy presses up against him, slipping his arms around his neck. He toys with Anson's hair, rests his head against Anson's shoulder. Anson closes his eyes, his expression genuinely pained. Ah fuck...want him so bad...
"For me," he says in a rough whisper. He tips Percy's chin up, making the smaller man look at him. "To do this to you. I brought that bottle over here, got you drunk..." He shakes his head and looks down. "I know what it does to you. That's...that's why I brought it," he confesses, his eyes flicking guiltily up to Percy's face. "Been thinking about you. Ever since the last time..." He pauses, feeling like the world's biggest jerk. "I saw the look on your face when I got here. The way you hesitated, until I told you that you didn't have to do anything for it." He exhales sharply, resisting the urge to bang his head against the wall. Jesus...the way he looks at Anson...that odd mix of predator and innocent...it's almost like Anson can see the walls coming down. That
( ... )
Percy's brow knotted, eyes flickering between cold indifference and confusion. Was he being...refused? His jaw tightened, eyes rolling away as he started to push away from Anson.
Wah, wah, wah...Poor mortal boy felt guilty. Blah, blah, blah...He was taking advantage of 'poor little Percy'. It wasn't 'fair'. God! It made him sick, stomach turning in tight nights at the thought of rejection at the hands of moral high ground. What sort of shit was that, eh?
"Got myself drunk..." Percy grumbled testily. "And it don' do shit to me..." It was the classic tale of a drunk, but he didn't care. "If I didn' want something, I wouldn' fuckin' do it. So fuck off with the moral shit...Means fuck all to me."
With that said he turned to climb from the shower, thinking he could leave the ass to finish his cleaning.
"Good," Anson whispers, tossing the belt into the corner. He rubs Percy's shoulders a moment, feeling the tension there, then leans down and tips his face up for a kiss. He sucks gently at Percy's bottom lip, then kisses away the tears. "Beautiful boy." He caresses Percy's cheek with a thumb. "You don't have any idea how beautiful you are like this, do you? With your eyes wet and your ass so red
( ... )
Percy lifted his head high enough to look up at Anson, frowning as he nodded slowly. He had to wonder at what Anson was up to, but he didn't worry too much about it. Instead, he just closed his eyes and waited...
Anson is gone just long enough to collect the things he needs. He returns, pleased to see that Percy is indeed lying just where he left him, in the center of the bed, his head resting on his folded arms. Anson can't help wincing in sympathy at the sight of his bare ass, deep red and undoubtedly throbbing.
"Close your eyes," he says from the doorway. "And keep them closed." He moves to the bed, kneeling beside Percy and putting the things he has brought down on top of the coverlet. He strokes Percy's back, then gently takes hold of his hips and lifts him up. "Up on your knees. That's it. Get it nice and high for me. Good."
Percy's ass in position, Anson pauses, petting the vampire's hair.
"Since you're being so good, I'm giving you a choice." He picks up one of the items he's brought, his necktie. He holds it in his hand, stroking Percy's cheek, letting the cool dark green silk whisper over his skin. "Do you want the blindfold? Or can I trust you to keep your eyes closed?"
One eye peeked open as his hair was pushed back. Why did he need a blind fold....He couldn't see what all Anson had retrieved, but he could make out the neck tie, brushing against his skin.
"Why do I need to keep my eyes closed?" He asked stubbornly, frowning as he turned his head to the side even more.
Comments 88
He's still smiling as he surveys his host, his arms folded, his long black topcoat unbuttoned and hanging open, the cold still clinging to the wool.
"So?" he says cheerfully. "Gonna invite me in?"
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His home was darker than most crypts, and perhaps just as cold as the air outside. There was, in some small part, an advantage in being mostly dead. Heat and cold seemed to have very little effect on you personally.
"The sun is still up..." He remarked, a light flicking on across the room, brushing the hallway in a warm light. Percy only moved away from the door slowly, as if he was still not sure what to make of unhappy thoughts, and unexpected company.
Reply
Picturing Percy with a Clapper elicits an undignified snort, which he quickly disguises as a cough. He crosses the room and takes a seat on the couch, electing to keep his coat on for the moment, seeing as the room temperature seems to be a degree or two above meat locker.
"I brought you a little something," Anson says, reaching into his coat pocket and extracting a bottle of Tanqueray. He leans over and puts it on the table, then settles back, his legs crossed, one arm lying casually along the back of the couch. "My mother taught me never to come empty-handed."
Reply
Eying Anson, he moved around the couch carefully reaching out to pick up the bottle as he frowned. "What brings you here?" He asked softly, toying with the top as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to open it or not. "I'm not obligated to be pleasant company."
Reply
Anson lifts his head, one hand snaking up to clutch at the back of Percy's head. His fingers slide through the wet black hair and his mouth finds Percy's. He kisses him then, deep and hot and wanting. He can taste his own blood on Percy's tongue, but far from repulsing him, it only seems to make him want Percy more. His hands slide down to cup the pale mounds of Percy's ass, fingers squeezing the firm flesh. He groans into Percy's mouth as he finally breaks the kiss.
"Shouldn't...shouldn't do this," he pants. "It's not right..."
Reply
"No' right for you or me?" He asked, voice hinting at annoyance as he slipped his arms about the man's neck. "No' right to do what? Wha's wrong with takin' a little pleasure, eh? You are always squeaking about it.."
His fingers played in the soft, wet curls of Anson's hair line, lips pressing against Anson's shoulder as he closed his eyes. Not right? What did it matter really...
Reply
"For me," he says in a rough whisper. He tips Percy's chin up, making the smaller man look at him. "To do this to you. I brought that bottle over here, got you drunk..." He shakes his head and looks down. "I know what it does to you. That's...that's why I brought it," he confesses, his eyes flicking guiltily up to Percy's face. "Been thinking about you. Ever since the last time..." He pauses, feeling like the world's biggest jerk. "I saw the look on your face when I got here. The way you hesitated, until I told you that you didn't have to do anything for it." He exhales sharply, resisting the urge to bang his head against the wall. Jesus...the way he looks at Anson...that odd mix of predator and innocent...it's almost like Anson can see the walls coming down. That ( ... )
Reply
Wah, wah, wah...Poor mortal boy felt guilty. Blah, blah, blah...He was taking advantage of 'poor little Percy'. It wasn't 'fair'. God! It made him sick, stomach turning in tight nights at the thought of rejection at the hands of moral high ground. What sort of shit was that, eh?
"Got myself drunk..." Percy grumbled testily. "And it don' do shit to me..." It was the classic tale of a drunk, but he didn't care. "If I didn' want something, I wouldn' fuckin' do it. So fuck off with the moral shit...Means fuck all to me."
With that said he turned to climb from the shower, thinking he could leave the ass to finish his cleaning.
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"Alright..." He meant it too, for now.
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"Close your eyes," he says from the doorway. "And keep them closed." He moves to the bed, kneeling beside Percy and putting the things he has brought down on top of the coverlet. He strokes Percy's back, then gently takes hold of his hips and lifts him up. "Up on your knees. That's it. Get it nice and high for me. Good."
Percy's ass in position, Anson pauses, petting the vampire's hair.
"Since you're being so good, I'm giving you a choice." He picks up one of the items he's brought, his necktie. He holds it in his hand, stroking Percy's cheek, letting the cool dark green silk whisper over his skin. "Do you want the blindfold? Or can I trust you to keep your eyes closed?"
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"Why do I need to keep my eyes closed?" He asked stubbornly, frowning as he turned his head to the side even more.
Reply
( ... )
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