Old fashioned he might be but what wasn’t old fashioned was the way Vincent moved to the music as if he’d been made to dance to this one song at this exact time. His hips were fluid and he moved with the confidence of a man who enjoyed what he was doing and didn’t give a fuck who was watching. At some point his hand had slid into his hair, catching on the curls, as his hips rolled in a motion not too dissimilar to a bedroom move and his lips were firmly pulled into a slow predatory smile as he watched Samson dance.
Of course as the other danced closer he broke off from his individual dance, arm slipping around Samson’s waist as he found and matched the rhythm of his movements and just pulled him into a distinctly more erotic dance that seemed to almost narrow down the very busy dance floor down to them and them alone.
With Samson’s back pressed against his chest it was almost too easy to just lean down and close his fangs around his neck but Vincent resisted. It had been a long time since he’d fed on somebody who wasn’t willing. Not about to break that track record even if it was tempting.