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Jan. 29th, 2011 08:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
canaaFor some reason, when I started this fic, I thought it was going to be short. Maybe 2k words, tops.
Four thousand words later . . .
Title: And It Seems Right And I Feel (Safe)
Fandom: Blood-Smoke Series
Pairing/characters: Henry Fitzroy/Tony Foster
Warnings: NSFW, blood drinking
Summary: Post-Blood Price, Tony isn't going to feel safe again until he manages to get Henry alone for a talk.
For the second time in less than a week, Tony found himself loitering on Bloor, waiting for sunset and the man he really needed to have a talk with. Vicki had had a point the other night; Tony knew stuff that could be dangerous to Henry, and Henry didn't have any reason to trust he wouldn't tell anyone.
If he didn't have a talk with Henry about this soon, he was gonna start getting paranoid about teeth in the dark, and Tony already had enough to be paranoid about, thank you. It was with mild trepidation that he found a good spot, out of the worst of the settling chill, and hunkered down to watch the sun fall below the city skyline.
He didn't have to wait long. In April, night still fell quickly, and in less than an hour after the last of the light vanished, his quarry emerged from the condo. Tony watched as Henry's head shot up as the vampire cleared the doors. He looked like an animal scenting the air, and Tony knew suddenly exactly how Henry had found him the previous night. And that was scary, that Henry could track him by smell even through the sorts of places Tony holed up, reeking of garbage and human filth.
Suddenly self-conscious, Tony ducked his head and sniffed at himself, then wrinkled his nose. Okay, maybe Henry's tracking ability wasn't the scary thing here.
He stood, waved uncertainly as Henry's eyes settled on him, and was rewarded with a pleased, if puzzled smile. The smile made him feel a lot better, eased some of the tightness in his chest, and he smiled back without thinking. "Uh, hey," he said as Henry closed in on him.
"Tony," Henry greeted him. "What can I do for you?" He looked like he had no idea what Tony might want with him, no idea why Tony would be standing outside his home.
"I uh, thought you'd wanna talk about the . . . thing." Tony glanced around. The sidewalk wasn't empty, though with the sun down, foot traffic was minimal. Still, couldn't be too careful, especially when trying to give the impression that you can be discreet. "Y'know. That vampire stuff."
Henry arched both red-gold eyebrows, then nodded thoughtfully. "We should discuss, yes," he agreed. "Best to make sure we're in complete understanding."
"Yeah, that's kinda how I was thinkin'." Tony shifted his weight to his other foot. "You know someplace we can talk? 'Cause I can't exactly take you back to my place, since I don't got one."
Henry looked Tony over, then tilted his head down Bloor towards Church. "Let's get you some dinner," he suggested. "There's a decent restaurant a few minutes by taxi."
Tony stuck his hands in his jeans pockets and shrugged. "Sure. That gonna be private enough?"
Henry grinned, quick and sharp, and stepped forward to hail a cab. "It will be."
--
What Henry meant, Tony discovered, was that Henry asked for a booth separate from other diners, and though dinner was in full swing, the waitstaff quickly cleared them an end booth at the back of the restaurant - and kept the one next to it empty.
Tony was impressed despite himself. "Hope you're gonna leave them a big tip," he said into his menu. He eyed the rib steak with longing, and the price tag with trepidation.
Henry caught him gnawing his lip and smiled. "Order what you want, Tony," he said gently. "I wouldn't have brought you here if the prices worried me."
Tony glanced up, and seeing nothing in Henry's face besides honesty, set the menu aside to let the waitress know he was ready to order. "So. Uh."
Henry glanced to the side, and Tony looked over at the waitress. "The 14 ounce rib steak," he told her, grinning. "Uh, well done. And a beer?" Back to Henry, whose expression was definitely amused, not upset, and he relaxed.
Henry nodded to him, then glanced at the waitress, who was giving him a questioning look. "Just water and an order of poutine, please, Tina. Filtered or bottled water, if you have it. And Tony will have milk, not beer."
As Tina jotted their orders and left, Tony sighed at the overruling of his order for alcohol. Just like Victory does. Then he blinked with sudden realization. "You eat? I uh, I kinda thought that . . . y'know. Blood was everything."
"Everything living needs water," Henry informed him, "And the poutine is for you. You're getting milk because you need it more than alcohol. Didn't Vicki tell you to drink lots of liquids?"
"Huh, guess that makes sense," Tony watched Henry's eyes as they scanned the restaurant. "'Course she did. Victory's always tellin' me things like that. 'Tony, eat more vegetables.' 'Tony, drink more water.' 'Tony, be more careful.' I'm always careful."
"So what you're saying is, you don't listen to her," Henry's gaze pinned Tony to his seat, and he squirmed.
"I listen," Tony protested. "Mostly. When I can. She don't always ask for things I can follow. I ate a carrot the other day. And there were onions on the last burger I had."
Henry eloquently expressed his opinion of the Tony approach to nutrition with a disdainful snort. "I should have ordered you a salad, not poutine. Regardless, she was right. You need water, milk, juice. Not alcohol. It thins the blood. The steak is a good choice, though. Plenty of iron and protein, which you also need."
Tony shrugged. "I bought a couple sports drinks. Then I used the rest of the cash she gave me to get a place to sleep. I didn't want to be out on the street when I was feeling kinda groggy."
Henry made a noncommittal noise, and then reached across the table to touch Tony's hand with his own. "I should thank you," he said suddenly. "Not every person would be willing to open a vein to aid a vampire as you did, particularly with the news sensationalizing the demon's kills as a vampire's. You had no way of knowing I would stop before harming you, and you risked it anyways. Thank you, Tony. I am alive because of your generosity."
Tony looked down, feeling his ears warm with a pleased flush. "Victory said you were okay," he mumbled. "I trust her. If she thought you'd hurt me, she wouldn've asked." He looked up again. "And you didn't. You were really messed up, but you stopped. So, uh. If you need it again, I guess, um." He could feel the blush creeping higher. "It didn't feel bad. Kinda . . . good, really. I've done lots worse things. If you want, I mean, I know I'm probably not to your, uh, taste-"
"Tony, calm down," Henry interrupted him firmly. "Your offer is appreciated. Believe me, my tastes are varied, and you definitely fit them." Then his nose wrinkled. "Though you'd fit them better after a shower."
Tony grinned with relief. "So . . . that's a yes?"
"That's a maybe," Henry returned, and paused as the waitress arrived carrying Tony's food and his water. "Eat, Tony. We can talk more once you've finished your meal."
"Don't have to tell me twice," Tony said, already reaching for his fork.
----
As Tony dragged a fry through a puddle of gravy, clearly stuffed to bursting from the large steak and generous portion of poutine but still unwilling to leave anything edible behind, Henry considered him from behind a mask of unconcern. When he'd first scented the boy outside his condominium an hour ago, Tony had borne the smells of fear and thin blood. As they'd talked, the fear had dissipated. Now, with a solid meal in him, his scent was healthier, free of disease, drugs, and weakness. Impressive, given what little Henry knew of Tony's life. Making a decision, he signaled the waitress. "You can get the rest of that packaged to go, Tony. Finish it when you've had time to get hungry again."
Tony looked up from his concentration on the remains of his poutine. "Huh? Oh, I guess. Poutine's best before it gets cold, but you're right."
"You can use my kitchen to reheat it," Henry suggested. "If, that is, you'd like to come back to my flat?"
He watched Tony process the hinted implication, and was relieved to see a wide grin cover Tony's face. "Sounds good," Tony said cheerfully.
As Tina took the plate to the kitchen to box it up, Henry watched Tony sneak looks at him from under his lashes, and felt the Hunger stir. He pushed it back, distracting himself with settling the bill for Tony's meal; the anticipation would make this all the sweeter for both himself and Tony, and before inviting the boy to his bed, he first intended to push him into the shower. The patina of dirt on Tony's face and hands was the only unappealing part of him, and easily remedied.
Tony's leftovers returned to them in a plain box (and Henry noted with some amusement that the motherly Tina had apparently slipped a piece of fried fish in with the remaining fries, from the scent), and they caught another cab outside the restaurant.
It had been some time since Henry brought someone back to his sanctuary to feed, he realized with a sudden pang. But then, it had also been a very long time since he had fed from a witting mortal, no pretense, no hiding his Hunger under a mask of lust and need. With dawning awareness, he reached for Tony's hand where it rested on the boy's thigh, and laced their finger together. When Tony looked over, surprised, Henry gave him a genuine smile, his pleasure at this unexpected and much-desired acceptance he'd found shining through.
----
Tony was definitely surprised when Henry took his hand again to lead him through the lobby of the condo. He could feel the security guards disapproving gaze on him, and ducked behind Henry to avoid it. "Doormen don't like me," he muttered to Henry's inquiring eyebrow.
"Since you're with me," Henry assured him, "Greg won't bother you. And if you ever come here alone, for whatever reason, just ask him to call up to mine, and I'll let him know you're here with my approval." He paused a moment as he selected a floor on the elevator panel, then added, "Only after sunset. During the day, I wouldn't be able to answer the phone. I sleep . . . very deeply."
"Like the dead?" Tony grinned saucily at Henry, and Henry eyed him, then shrugged.
"I suppose," Henry granted. "Except the dead do not wake at sunset."
As Henry opened the door and waved Tony through, Tony couldn't help the beginnings of nervousness pooling in his gut. He'd done some stupid things on the street, early on, but you didn't survive by being stupid, and Tony'd learned quickly what was and wasn't safe.
Following a guy he barely knew, whose every motion screamed "predator!" back to his place would have been incredibly stupid, if Tony was operating by his normal standards. Sure, it was a risk every time he climbed into a john's car, or let them follow him into an alley, but an alley he could run from, a car he could scramble out of and take off running. A twelfth-story apartment had only one exit.
Easy, Tony, he told himself. If he was just gonna drain you and dump you, you wouldn't have gotten a steak first. And a traitor thought, crawling from the depths of his animal hindbrain, besides, if it's him, would that be so bad?
Tony wrapped his arms around himself and watched Henry watch him. "You'll have to help me out here, man. I'm a little lost. I mean, I'm used to sucking, but usually I'm the one doin' it."
"There's no rush." Henry opened the airing cupboard next to the bathroom door and pulled out a pair of fluffy towels. He set the towels on the counter in the bathroom, and poked his head around the door jamb. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you really need a bath."
"Now you sound like Victory," Tony grumbled, but the thought of getting clean, in a proper, decent shower without a strict time limit was appealing. "Fine, but you got someplace I can put my doggy bag?"
Henry took the box from him. "I'll put it in my refrigerator," he promised.
In the bathroom, Tony wrinkled his nose at the array of hair products on the shower shelf. After a moment's hesitation, he shucked his clothes, doing his best to ignore the automatic warning in his head that pointed out he didn't have a safe place to store them so they wouldn't be stolen, that he might climb out and find he had nothing to put on again. Soon, the sheer pleasure of the pounding water, hot and cleaner than he'd had the luxury of in longer than he cared to think drove the street-smart worry from his head.
If he took a long time, Henry was too polite to mention it when Tony finally emerged from the bathroom, scrubbed fresh and tousled from toweling dry.
"Sorry, I didn't see a hamper," Tony hedged, and lifted the towel he'd used to dry off.
"In the bedroom," Henry told him, taking the towel and pausing to sniff Tony's freshly-washed hair appreciatively. "You clean up very nicely, Tony."
Tony grinned. "You don't need to sweet-talk me," he said dismissively, but the words left him with a warmth inside despite his flippant response. He trailed Henry into the bedroom. "So, uh. How do you like it?" That seemed like a safe question. "Y'know. I cut my wrist last time, but if you like necks, that's okay too, or whatever. Necks are traditional, right?"
Henry dropped the damp towel into his laundry hamper and turned, looking slightly puzzled. Then, after a moment, Tony watched realization dawn, and was startled when Henry laughed.
"Tony," Henry said firmly, "I didn't just invite you back here so I could feed from you." He paused. "Well, that's not entirely true. But feeding is so much more than a simple flow of blood from a mortal into me, under normal circumstances." He sat on the bed and patted the cover beside him. "Come here, Tony."
It was no mere request. Mouth suddenly dry and hands shaking, Tony crossed the bedroom, unable to deny the command in Henry's voice. "Yeah," he breathed. "Yeah, okay." The remaining lurch and sway of fear in his stomach gentled into a pleasant frisson under Henry's silver-touched eyes.
----
The reality, Tony concluded hazily, was very different from what he'd imagined Henry wanted from him, different from what he thought he was offering . . . but he wasn't going to complain, hell, no. Henry's tongue left a line of wet fire up the inside of Tony's thigh, and he shifted restlessly, seeking more - more contact, more heat, more anything. That clever mouth found the base of his dick, licked around it, up, a sensual drag of soft lips and tiny points of electric pleasure with each quick dab of tongue, and Tony couldn't stop the low whine in his throat, or the way his fingers curled in the sheets. He didn't even want to.
And Henry looked incredible. Tony couldn't tear his gaze away, enthralled and helpless as slick, amazing heat wrapped around the head. Fuck he thought, tried to say it too, but all he could manage was a broken moan. Henry held Tony's hips still with one strong arm, taking his time, sliding his lips down Tony's shaft with agonizing slowness, and Tony thumped his head back against the headboard as he watched his dick disappear bit by bit into bliss, until he could feel the muscles of Henry's throat tight around his cockhead. Somewhere, he found his voice again, mumbled "Ah, god, Henry-"
And then Henry swallowed around him, and his mind shattered into tiny pieces at the sensation, at the wicked tongue that stroked and teased, at the pressure and the little pleased noise that Henry made deep in his throat as Tony cried out, choked and desperate. Tony tried to stop, couldn't stop thrusting, tiny twitches of his hips forced down by Henry's deceptively gentle hold.
And then there was cold air on wet skin and he let out a frustrated whimper as he dropped suddenly from the knife's edge. "Henry!"
Henry grinned smugly up from between Tony's legs, puffed out his cheeks and blew a stream of air over the head of Tony's cock. "May I?" he inquired, and it took Tony's muddled wits a moment to realize Henry was stroking a finger over the pucker of his asshole, realize what he was asking.
That he was asking at all blew Tony away more than anything else that had happened this night. "Yeah," Tony said, and licked his dry lips, suddenly focused like he hadn't been since Henry had pushed his knees apart and ducked between them. "Yeah, I like it. Long as you got slick. I got a condom in my jeans pocket, if you can find 'em down there."
Henry arched his eyebrows. "I'm clean," he assured Tony. "I can tell by scent when someone is ill, and I avoid them. If it makes you more comfortable, though, I'd be happy to use the condom." His finger circled the rim of Tony's hole lightly, teasing, feathery touches that threatened to scatter Tony's mind again even as he attempted to consider the implications of what Henry was saying.
"No, if you're sure," he managed finally. "I haven't barebacked in a long time, don't wanna get sick. But if you're clean, we're good."
"Thank you, Tony," Henry said softly. He leaned over Tony's cock again, took the tip into his mouth and suckled gently as his finger pressed lightly into Tony's ass, and Tony swatted at his head.
As Henry jerked up in surprise, Tony scowled down at him. "I meant it about the lube," he said, and then grinned at the look on Henry's face, sheepish and disgruntled at the same time.
"Sorry if I worried you," Henry said. "I know, I have done this before, and I wasn't planning to go further without any. I'll be right back." He stood, and Tony admired his tight ass as he retreated into the bathroom. When he returned, he held a pocket-sized tube of KY, and Tony got his first good look at Henry's cock since they'd tumbled into bed.
Gorgeous as the rest of the man, it was uncut and slightly short, but wide enough that Tony suspected he wasn't going to have any complaints, not if Henry's fucking technique was even half as good as his blowjobs. Tony reached down and stroked himself to keep his interest high, watched Henry's eyes flick to the motion and grinned, spread his legs wider and gave his wrist an extra twist at the end of his stroke. Henry's gaze clouded silver, and Tony's smirk turned smug. He didn't know what that meant, exactly, but it sure as hell was a reaction, and from the way Henry's cock was at attention, not a bad one.
With a growl, Henry crossed quickly to the bed and pinned Tony to the sheets with his body. "You are a tease, Tony Foster," he muttered, fumbling with the cap of the tube when Tony arched up, rubbing deliberately against him.
"Hey, you left me here by myself," Tony said. "I had to keep myself entertained somehow." He reached over and held onto the tube, steadying it so Henry could get the cap open.
"It wasn't a complaint." Henry's fingers, generously coated, skimmed the curve of Tony's ass. "You surprise me," he admitted. "You know what I am, and yet you act like I'm no different from anyone else."
Tony shivered as cool lube smeared across his fever-hot skin. "Well, you aren't," he pointed out. "You've got two arms, two legs, one seriously sexy cock, and all the parts those attach to. And you're a lot more polite than most of the guys who want into my ass. I'm hardly gonna let it bug me that you drink liquid breakfast instead of eating bacon and eggs."
Henry stopped cold, fingers frozen in the middle of slicking Tony up, and stared down at Tony with an expression verging on stunned disbelief. Tony rolled his eyes, shifted his hips against Henry's hand, pushing his fingers deeper. "You gonna fuck me, or just lay there looking pretty?"
For a moment, Tony thought he might have pushed it too far, but then the light in Henry's eyes shifted as he took the challenge. "You've got a filthy mouth," he commented mildly, and his fingers pulled out. Tony tucked his knees higher and relaxed as Henry's cock pressed against him, thick enough to burn a little even with Tony's practice and the generous lube.
In Tony's opinion, the burn was good. He wrapped his legs around Henry's hips, rocked up, wanting more, faster. "Oh, yeah," Tony moaned, encouraging. "That's it, Henry. Fuck, you feel great in my ass. C'mon, I'm not gonna break in half."
Challenging Henry in bed, Tony realized as Henry tossed his hair back and lifted Tony's hips higher, then drove the rest of the way into him in one smooth motion, was something he was going to have to do frequently. His back arched at the cool slide inside of him, the stretched, filled feeling that drove thoughts of teasing from his mind and replaced them with sparks of pure need.
"You were saying?" Henry said archly, and Tony lifted one hand in a half-hearted attempt to flip him off. Henry had complete control now, pressing Tony's back into the bed with every snap of his hips, fucking in earnest, and christ it felt amazing, every rhythmic push and slide hitting the place inside Tony that made getting fucked like this so damned good.
"Was I talking? Forgot," Tony gasped out, and Henry laughed. This was so easy, so comfortable, it was almost shocking. Tony was relaxed like he never was during sex, giving his control, his wariness over to Henry in a way he couldn't on the street, couldn't trust them not to take advantage. Not to hurt him.
And that was it, Tony realized through the thick fog of oncoming orgasm. Henry wasn't going to hurt him. Not now, not ever. He was safe with Henry. With a strangled moan, he reached up and slid his hand across Henry's cheek, staring into eyes that were completely silver now, and one of the most reassuring things he'd ever seen.
When Henry turned his face to nuzzle his mouth against Tony's wrist, licked gently at the healing cut he'd fed from a few days earlier, Tony gathered himself enough to nod. "Go- go for it," he gasped out. "Oh, god-"
The pain of teeth slicing into his skin was nothing, one tiny spark of sensation in a world that suddenly filled with pure pleasure. He could feel Henry's cock still driving into him, the mouth on his wrist sucking as gently as it had on his cock, white-hot pleasure arcing between the points of contact like the best kind of static in the world. Tony thought he might have cried out when his cock pulsed, spurting over his chest and belly as he came harder than he ever had in his life, but all his attention was on the mouth on his wrist, the ripple of Henry's throat as he swallowed Tony's life.
Then Henry's hips were stuttering, stilling as he finished inside Tony, and he pulled his mouth away with one last lick at the painless wound.
Tony watched at Henry retrieved the damp towel from the hamper, hissed slightly as he wiped the come from Tony's stomach and thighs. "Oh, damn," Tony muttered, and stretched on the bed. "God, Henry, you're gonna ruin me for normal sex."
Henry crawled onto the bed next to Tony and pulled him close, laid a kiss on his forehead. "You had a good time, then?"
Tony snorted and gestured down the length of his limp, sated body. "Duh. God, tell me we can do this again."
"Not for a few days," Henry said. "You need time for your blood to restore itself." His arm wrapped around Tony's waist. "But if you'd like to make this a regular thing, I think I'd like that. It's good not to have to cover what I am, what I'm doing."
Tony closed his eyes, relaxed into Henry's hold. "I'd like," he said firmly. "Best sex of my life."
Henry laughed softly above him. "Falling asleep?" he asked.
"Maybe," Tony said vaguely. "That a problem?"
"Not at all," Henry assured him. "I'll wake you before I need to turn in for the day, if you haven't woken on your own before then."
"'Kay." Tony's foot fumbled with the blanket folded down at the base of the bed, and Henry pulled away, covered the boy and stood. As he started to leave the room, Tony's head lifted. "Henry?"
"Yes, Tony?"
"Glad we had this talk." A flash of a grin, and then Tony was out. Henry looked at the mortal boy sleeping in his bed and shook his head.
"So am I, Tony," he replied to sleeping ears. And now, I think I finally know how the spirited Veronica is going to get through to Captain Roxborough, he thought as he pulled on a robe. Time to earn my advance. He retreated to his study, conscious of the slow beat of Tony's sleeping heart even through the wall. The steady pulse was reassuring, even comforting. Maybe it was time he allowed a mortal or two into his heart again.
Four thousand words later . . .
Title: And It Seems Right And I Feel (Safe)
Fandom: Blood-Smoke Series
Pairing/characters: Henry Fitzroy/Tony Foster
Warnings: NSFW, blood drinking
Summary: Post-Blood Price, Tony isn't going to feel safe again until he manages to get Henry alone for a talk.
For the second time in less than a week, Tony found himself loitering on Bloor, waiting for sunset and the man he really needed to have a talk with. Vicki had had a point the other night; Tony knew stuff that could be dangerous to Henry, and Henry didn't have any reason to trust he wouldn't tell anyone.
If he didn't have a talk with Henry about this soon, he was gonna start getting paranoid about teeth in the dark, and Tony already had enough to be paranoid about, thank you. It was with mild trepidation that he found a good spot, out of the worst of the settling chill, and hunkered down to watch the sun fall below the city skyline.
He didn't have to wait long. In April, night still fell quickly, and in less than an hour after the last of the light vanished, his quarry emerged from the condo. Tony watched as Henry's head shot up as the vampire cleared the doors. He looked like an animal scenting the air, and Tony knew suddenly exactly how Henry had found him the previous night. And that was scary, that Henry could track him by smell even through the sorts of places Tony holed up, reeking of garbage and human filth.
Suddenly self-conscious, Tony ducked his head and sniffed at himself, then wrinkled his nose. Okay, maybe Henry's tracking ability wasn't the scary thing here.
He stood, waved uncertainly as Henry's eyes settled on him, and was rewarded with a pleased, if puzzled smile. The smile made him feel a lot better, eased some of the tightness in his chest, and he smiled back without thinking. "Uh, hey," he said as Henry closed in on him.
"Tony," Henry greeted him. "What can I do for you?" He looked like he had no idea what Tony might want with him, no idea why Tony would be standing outside his home.
"I uh, thought you'd wanna talk about the . . . thing." Tony glanced around. The sidewalk wasn't empty, though with the sun down, foot traffic was minimal. Still, couldn't be too careful, especially when trying to give the impression that you can be discreet. "Y'know. That vampire stuff."
Henry arched both red-gold eyebrows, then nodded thoughtfully. "We should discuss, yes," he agreed. "Best to make sure we're in complete understanding."
"Yeah, that's kinda how I was thinkin'." Tony shifted his weight to his other foot. "You know someplace we can talk? 'Cause I can't exactly take you back to my place, since I don't got one."
Henry looked Tony over, then tilted his head down Bloor towards Church. "Let's get you some dinner," he suggested. "There's a decent restaurant a few minutes by taxi."
Tony stuck his hands in his jeans pockets and shrugged. "Sure. That gonna be private enough?"
Henry grinned, quick and sharp, and stepped forward to hail a cab. "It will be."
--
What Henry meant, Tony discovered, was that Henry asked for a booth separate from other diners, and though dinner was in full swing, the waitstaff quickly cleared them an end booth at the back of the restaurant - and kept the one next to it empty.
Tony was impressed despite himself. "Hope you're gonna leave them a big tip," he said into his menu. He eyed the rib steak with longing, and the price tag with trepidation.
Henry caught him gnawing his lip and smiled. "Order what you want, Tony," he said gently. "I wouldn't have brought you here if the prices worried me."
Tony glanced up, and seeing nothing in Henry's face besides honesty, set the menu aside to let the waitress know he was ready to order. "So. Uh."
Henry glanced to the side, and Tony looked over at the waitress. "The 14 ounce rib steak," he told her, grinning. "Uh, well done. And a beer?" Back to Henry, whose expression was definitely amused, not upset, and he relaxed.
Henry nodded to him, then glanced at the waitress, who was giving him a questioning look. "Just water and an order of poutine, please, Tina. Filtered or bottled water, if you have it. And Tony will have milk, not beer."
As Tina jotted their orders and left, Tony sighed at the overruling of his order for alcohol. Just like Victory does. Then he blinked with sudden realization. "You eat? I uh, I kinda thought that . . . y'know. Blood was everything."
"Everything living needs water," Henry informed him, "And the poutine is for you. You're getting milk because you need it more than alcohol. Didn't Vicki tell you to drink lots of liquids?"
"Huh, guess that makes sense," Tony watched Henry's eyes as they scanned the restaurant. "'Course she did. Victory's always tellin' me things like that. 'Tony, eat more vegetables.' 'Tony, drink more water.' 'Tony, be more careful.' I'm always careful."
"So what you're saying is, you don't listen to her," Henry's gaze pinned Tony to his seat, and he squirmed.
"I listen," Tony protested. "Mostly. When I can. She don't always ask for things I can follow. I ate a carrot the other day. And there were onions on the last burger I had."
Henry eloquently expressed his opinion of the Tony approach to nutrition with a disdainful snort. "I should have ordered you a salad, not poutine. Regardless, she was right. You need water, milk, juice. Not alcohol. It thins the blood. The steak is a good choice, though. Plenty of iron and protein, which you also need."
Tony shrugged. "I bought a couple sports drinks. Then I used the rest of the cash she gave me to get a place to sleep. I didn't want to be out on the street when I was feeling kinda groggy."
Henry made a noncommittal noise, and then reached across the table to touch Tony's hand with his own. "I should thank you," he said suddenly. "Not every person would be willing to open a vein to aid a vampire as you did, particularly with the news sensationalizing the demon's kills as a vampire's. You had no way of knowing I would stop before harming you, and you risked it anyways. Thank you, Tony. I am alive because of your generosity."
Tony looked down, feeling his ears warm with a pleased flush. "Victory said you were okay," he mumbled. "I trust her. If she thought you'd hurt me, she wouldn've asked." He looked up again. "And you didn't. You were really messed up, but you stopped. So, uh. If you need it again, I guess, um." He could feel the blush creeping higher. "It didn't feel bad. Kinda . . . good, really. I've done lots worse things. If you want, I mean, I know I'm probably not to your, uh, taste-"
"Tony, calm down," Henry interrupted him firmly. "Your offer is appreciated. Believe me, my tastes are varied, and you definitely fit them." Then his nose wrinkled. "Though you'd fit them better after a shower."
Tony grinned with relief. "So . . . that's a yes?"
"That's a maybe," Henry returned, and paused as the waitress arrived carrying Tony's food and his water. "Eat, Tony. We can talk more once you've finished your meal."
"Don't have to tell me twice," Tony said, already reaching for his fork.
----
As Tony dragged a fry through a puddle of gravy, clearly stuffed to bursting from the large steak and generous portion of poutine but still unwilling to leave anything edible behind, Henry considered him from behind a mask of unconcern. When he'd first scented the boy outside his condominium an hour ago, Tony had borne the smells of fear and thin blood. As they'd talked, the fear had dissipated. Now, with a solid meal in him, his scent was healthier, free of disease, drugs, and weakness. Impressive, given what little Henry knew of Tony's life. Making a decision, he signaled the waitress. "You can get the rest of that packaged to go, Tony. Finish it when you've had time to get hungry again."
Tony looked up from his concentration on the remains of his poutine. "Huh? Oh, I guess. Poutine's best before it gets cold, but you're right."
"You can use my kitchen to reheat it," Henry suggested. "If, that is, you'd like to come back to my flat?"
He watched Tony process the hinted implication, and was relieved to see a wide grin cover Tony's face. "Sounds good," Tony said cheerfully.
As Tina took the plate to the kitchen to box it up, Henry watched Tony sneak looks at him from under his lashes, and felt the Hunger stir. He pushed it back, distracting himself with settling the bill for Tony's meal; the anticipation would make this all the sweeter for both himself and Tony, and before inviting the boy to his bed, he first intended to push him into the shower. The patina of dirt on Tony's face and hands was the only unappealing part of him, and easily remedied.
Tony's leftovers returned to them in a plain box (and Henry noted with some amusement that the motherly Tina had apparently slipped a piece of fried fish in with the remaining fries, from the scent), and they caught another cab outside the restaurant.
It had been some time since Henry brought someone back to his sanctuary to feed, he realized with a sudden pang. But then, it had also been a very long time since he had fed from a witting mortal, no pretense, no hiding his Hunger under a mask of lust and need. With dawning awareness, he reached for Tony's hand where it rested on the boy's thigh, and laced their finger together. When Tony looked over, surprised, Henry gave him a genuine smile, his pleasure at this unexpected and much-desired acceptance he'd found shining through.
----
Tony was definitely surprised when Henry took his hand again to lead him through the lobby of the condo. He could feel the security guards disapproving gaze on him, and ducked behind Henry to avoid it. "Doormen don't like me," he muttered to Henry's inquiring eyebrow.
"Since you're with me," Henry assured him, "Greg won't bother you. And if you ever come here alone, for whatever reason, just ask him to call up to mine, and I'll let him know you're here with my approval." He paused a moment as he selected a floor on the elevator panel, then added, "Only after sunset. During the day, I wouldn't be able to answer the phone. I sleep . . . very deeply."
"Like the dead?" Tony grinned saucily at Henry, and Henry eyed him, then shrugged.
"I suppose," Henry granted. "Except the dead do not wake at sunset."
As Henry opened the door and waved Tony through, Tony couldn't help the beginnings of nervousness pooling in his gut. He'd done some stupid things on the street, early on, but you didn't survive by being stupid, and Tony'd learned quickly what was and wasn't safe.
Following a guy he barely knew, whose every motion screamed "predator!" back to his place would have been incredibly stupid, if Tony was operating by his normal standards. Sure, it was a risk every time he climbed into a john's car, or let them follow him into an alley, but an alley he could run from, a car he could scramble out of and take off running. A twelfth-story apartment had only one exit.
Easy, Tony, he told himself. If he was just gonna drain you and dump you, you wouldn't have gotten a steak first. And a traitor thought, crawling from the depths of his animal hindbrain, besides, if it's him, would that be so bad?
Tony wrapped his arms around himself and watched Henry watch him. "You'll have to help me out here, man. I'm a little lost. I mean, I'm used to sucking, but usually I'm the one doin' it."
"There's no rush." Henry opened the airing cupboard next to the bathroom door and pulled out a pair of fluffy towels. He set the towels on the counter in the bathroom, and poked his head around the door jamb. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you really need a bath."
"Now you sound like Victory," Tony grumbled, but the thought of getting clean, in a proper, decent shower without a strict time limit was appealing. "Fine, but you got someplace I can put my doggy bag?"
Henry took the box from him. "I'll put it in my refrigerator," he promised.
In the bathroom, Tony wrinkled his nose at the array of hair products on the shower shelf. After a moment's hesitation, he shucked his clothes, doing his best to ignore the automatic warning in his head that pointed out he didn't have a safe place to store them so they wouldn't be stolen, that he might climb out and find he had nothing to put on again. Soon, the sheer pleasure of the pounding water, hot and cleaner than he'd had the luxury of in longer than he cared to think drove the street-smart worry from his head.
If he took a long time, Henry was too polite to mention it when Tony finally emerged from the bathroom, scrubbed fresh and tousled from toweling dry.
"Sorry, I didn't see a hamper," Tony hedged, and lifted the towel he'd used to dry off.
"In the bedroom," Henry told him, taking the towel and pausing to sniff Tony's freshly-washed hair appreciatively. "You clean up very nicely, Tony."
Tony grinned. "You don't need to sweet-talk me," he said dismissively, but the words left him with a warmth inside despite his flippant response. He trailed Henry into the bedroom. "So, uh. How do you like it?" That seemed like a safe question. "Y'know. I cut my wrist last time, but if you like necks, that's okay too, or whatever. Necks are traditional, right?"
Henry dropped the damp towel into his laundry hamper and turned, looking slightly puzzled. Then, after a moment, Tony watched realization dawn, and was startled when Henry laughed.
"Tony," Henry said firmly, "I didn't just invite you back here so I could feed from you." He paused. "Well, that's not entirely true. But feeding is so much more than a simple flow of blood from a mortal into me, under normal circumstances." He sat on the bed and patted the cover beside him. "Come here, Tony."
It was no mere request. Mouth suddenly dry and hands shaking, Tony crossed the bedroom, unable to deny the command in Henry's voice. "Yeah," he breathed. "Yeah, okay." The remaining lurch and sway of fear in his stomach gentled into a pleasant frisson under Henry's silver-touched eyes.
----
The reality, Tony concluded hazily, was very different from what he'd imagined Henry wanted from him, different from what he thought he was offering . . . but he wasn't going to complain, hell, no. Henry's tongue left a line of wet fire up the inside of Tony's thigh, and he shifted restlessly, seeking more - more contact, more heat, more anything. That clever mouth found the base of his dick, licked around it, up, a sensual drag of soft lips and tiny points of electric pleasure with each quick dab of tongue, and Tony couldn't stop the low whine in his throat, or the way his fingers curled in the sheets. He didn't even want to.
And Henry looked incredible. Tony couldn't tear his gaze away, enthralled and helpless as slick, amazing heat wrapped around the head. Fuck he thought, tried to say it too, but all he could manage was a broken moan. Henry held Tony's hips still with one strong arm, taking his time, sliding his lips down Tony's shaft with agonizing slowness, and Tony thumped his head back against the headboard as he watched his dick disappear bit by bit into bliss, until he could feel the muscles of Henry's throat tight around his cockhead. Somewhere, he found his voice again, mumbled "Ah, god, Henry-"
And then Henry swallowed around him, and his mind shattered into tiny pieces at the sensation, at the wicked tongue that stroked and teased, at the pressure and the little pleased noise that Henry made deep in his throat as Tony cried out, choked and desperate. Tony tried to stop, couldn't stop thrusting, tiny twitches of his hips forced down by Henry's deceptively gentle hold.
And then there was cold air on wet skin and he let out a frustrated whimper as he dropped suddenly from the knife's edge. "Henry!"
Henry grinned smugly up from between Tony's legs, puffed out his cheeks and blew a stream of air over the head of Tony's cock. "May I?" he inquired, and it took Tony's muddled wits a moment to realize Henry was stroking a finger over the pucker of his asshole, realize what he was asking.
That he was asking at all blew Tony away more than anything else that had happened this night. "Yeah," Tony said, and licked his dry lips, suddenly focused like he hadn't been since Henry had pushed his knees apart and ducked between them. "Yeah, I like it. Long as you got slick. I got a condom in my jeans pocket, if you can find 'em down there."
Henry arched his eyebrows. "I'm clean," he assured Tony. "I can tell by scent when someone is ill, and I avoid them. If it makes you more comfortable, though, I'd be happy to use the condom." His finger circled the rim of Tony's hole lightly, teasing, feathery touches that threatened to scatter Tony's mind again even as he attempted to consider the implications of what Henry was saying.
"No, if you're sure," he managed finally. "I haven't barebacked in a long time, don't wanna get sick. But if you're clean, we're good."
"Thank you, Tony," Henry said softly. He leaned over Tony's cock again, took the tip into his mouth and suckled gently as his finger pressed lightly into Tony's ass, and Tony swatted at his head.
As Henry jerked up in surprise, Tony scowled down at him. "I meant it about the lube," he said, and then grinned at the look on Henry's face, sheepish and disgruntled at the same time.
"Sorry if I worried you," Henry said. "I know, I have done this before, and I wasn't planning to go further without any. I'll be right back." He stood, and Tony admired his tight ass as he retreated into the bathroom. When he returned, he held a pocket-sized tube of KY, and Tony got his first good look at Henry's cock since they'd tumbled into bed.
Gorgeous as the rest of the man, it was uncut and slightly short, but wide enough that Tony suspected he wasn't going to have any complaints, not if Henry's fucking technique was even half as good as his blowjobs. Tony reached down and stroked himself to keep his interest high, watched Henry's eyes flick to the motion and grinned, spread his legs wider and gave his wrist an extra twist at the end of his stroke. Henry's gaze clouded silver, and Tony's smirk turned smug. He didn't know what that meant, exactly, but it sure as hell was a reaction, and from the way Henry's cock was at attention, not a bad one.
With a growl, Henry crossed quickly to the bed and pinned Tony to the sheets with his body. "You are a tease, Tony Foster," he muttered, fumbling with the cap of the tube when Tony arched up, rubbing deliberately against him.
"Hey, you left me here by myself," Tony said. "I had to keep myself entertained somehow." He reached over and held onto the tube, steadying it so Henry could get the cap open.
"It wasn't a complaint." Henry's fingers, generously coated, skimmed the curve of Tony's ass. "You surprise me," he admitted. "You know what I am, and yet you act like I'm no different from anyone else."
Tony shivered as cool lube smeared across his fever-hot skin. "Well, you aren't," he pointed out. "You've got two arms, two legs, one seriously sexy cock, and all the parts those attach to. And you're a lot more polite than most of the guys who want into my ass. I'm hardly gonna let it bug me that you drink liquid breakfast instead of eating bacon and eggs."
Henry stopped cold, fingers frozen in the middle of slicking Tony up, and stared down at Tony with an expression verging on stunned disbelief. Tony rolled his eyes, shifted his hips against Henry's hand, pushing his fingers deeper. "You gonna fuck me, or just lay there looking pretty?"
For a moment, Tony thought he might have pushed it too far, but then the light in Henry's eyes shifted as he took the challenge. "You've got a filthy mouth," he commented mildly, and his fingers pulled out. Tony tucked his knees higher and relaxed as Henry's cock pressed against him, thick enough to burn a little even with Tony's practice and the generous lube.
In Tony's opinion, the burn was good. He wrapped his legs around Henry's hips, rocked up, wanting more, faster. "Oh, yeah," Tony moaned, encouraging. "That's it, Henry. Fuck, you feel great in my ass. C'mon, I'm not gonna break in half."
Challenging Henry in bed, Tony realized as Henry tossed his hair back and lifted Tony's hips higher, then drove the rest of the way into him in one smooth motion, was something he was going to have to do frequently. His back arched at the cool slide inside of him, the stretched, filled feeling that drove thoughts of teasing from his mind and replaced them with sparks of pure need.
"You were saying?" Henry said archly, and Tony lifted one hand in a half-hearted attempt to flip him off. Henry had complete control now, pressing Tony's back into the bed with every snap of his hips, fucking in earnest, and christ it felt amazing, every rhythmic push and slide hitting the place inside Tony that made getting fucked like this so damned good.
"Was I talking? Forgot," Tony gasped out, and Henry laughed. This was so easy, so comfortable, it was almost shocking. Tony was relaxed like he never was during sex, giving his control, his wariness over to Henry in a way he couldn't on the street, couldn't trust them not to take advantage. Not to hurt him.
And that was it, Tony realized through the thick fog of oncoming orgasm. Henry wasn't going to hurt him. Not now, not ever. He was safe with Henry. With a strangled moan, he reached up and slid his hand across Henry's cheek, staring into eyes that were completely silver now, and one of the most reassuring things he'd ever seen.
When Henry turned his face to nuzzle his mouth against Tony's wrist, licked gently at the healing cut he'd fed from a few days earlier, Tony gathered himself enough to nod. "Go- go for it," he gasped out. "Oh, god-"
The pain of teeth slicing into his skin was nothing, one tiny spark of sensation in a world that suddenly filled with pure pleasure. He could feel Henry's cock still driving into him, the mouth on his wrist sucking as gently as it had on his cock, white-hot pleasure arcing between the points of contact like the best kind of static in the world. Tony thought he might have cried out when his cock pulsed, spurting over his chest and belly as he came harder than he ever had in his life, but all his attention was on the mouth on his wrist, the ripple of Henry's throat as he swallowed Tony's life.
Then Henry's hips were stuttering, stilling as he finished inside Tony, and he pulled his mouth away with one last lick at the painless wound.
Tony watched at Henry retrieved the damp towel from the hamper, hissed slightly as he wiped the come from Tony's stomach and thighs. "Oh, damn," Tony muttered, and stretched on the bed. "God, Henry, you're gonna ruin me for normal sex."
Henry crawled onto the bed next to Tony and pulled him close, laid a kiss on his forehead. "You had a good time, then?"
Tony snorted and gestured down the length of his limp, sated body. "Duh. God, tell me we can do this again."
"Not for a few days," Henry said. "You need time for your blood to restore itself." His arm wrapped around Tony's waist. "But if you'd like to make this a regular thing, I think I'd like that. It's good not to have to cover what I am, what I'm doing."
Tony closed his eyes, relaxed into Henry's hold. "I'd like," he said firmly. "Best sex of my life."
Henry laughed softly above him. "Falling asleep?" he asked.
"Maybe," Tony said vaguely. "That a problem?"
"Not at all," Henry assured him. "I'll wake you before I need to turn in for the day, if you haven't woken on your own before then."
"'Kay." Tony's foot fumbled with the blanket folded down at the base of the bed, and Henry pulled away, covered the boy and stood. As he started to leave the room, Tony's head lifted. "Henry?"
"Yes, Tony?"
"Glad we had this talk." A flash of a grin, and then Tony was out. Henry looked at the mortal boy sleeping in his bed and shook his head.
"So am I, Tony," he replied to sleeping ears. And now, I think I finally know how the spirited Veronica is going to get through to Captain Roxborough, he thought as he pulled on a robe. Time to earn my advance. He retreated to his study, conscious of the slow beat of Tony's sleeping heart even through the wall. The steady pulse was reassuring, even comforting. Maybe it was time he allowed a mortal or two into his heart again.
Re: potential Smoke series apper
Date: 2011-04-07 10:00 am (UTC)