moralsandsass (moralsandsass) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-02-25 09:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, elijah mikaelson, ezio auditore da firenze |
WHO: Elijah Mikaelson & Ezio Auditore
WHEN: Starting this morning and continuing into the general today times
WHERE: Elijah's place
WHAT: Elijah turns into a vampire and shit gets a lil real
WARNINGS: Uhhh a dead body and sexual situations...and vampire shenanigans? I think that's all there is
STATUS: Complete when posted
The daylight ring was a warning, a bad omen. He really should have realized how bad it was. Of course, he’d gone to sleep and the dreams were there again. Even though he was a little less upset with his dream self, that didn’t mean he wanted to spend all his time dreaming about him either. Or Niklaus for that matter. He was ready never to be in Mystic Falls again. Waking up next to Ezio wasn’t supposed to be a bad thing...and really, it wasn’t. Except that this time...he was overloaded with scents and sounds. Everything seemed particularly overwhelming and he was hungry. He couldn’t ever remember feeling this hungry in his life. He also couldn’t remember being so acutely in tune with the smell of blood or the sound of heartbeats. Both of which were making the hunger that much worse. So he did the only sensible thing he could think to do, which was very quickly remove himself from the room. Only when he moved, he felt the sun hit his skin and he swore under his breath.
Looks like this is it.
He moved closer to the bed again and rummaged around the drawer in his bedside table for the daylight ring that he’d tossed in there when he’d decided he wasn’t going to worry about it. Once he found it, he put the ring on his middle finger and tested out the sun again. It didn’t burn this time, but it didn’t negate the intense feeling of hunger that kept trying to draw him back to Ezio. He felt like he was going to go insane if he didn’t leave the room, so he forced himself out of it, deciding it wasn’t really necessary to put clothes on. He was in his own place and he wasn’t really concerned by it.
He was going to go and get a blood bag. He had them in the fridge for this purpose. It wasn’t that far.
Getting there, however, was put on pause when he heard the doorbell. He stilled, listening for a moment before the bell was followed by a knock. Against his better judgment, he walked to the door and looked out. It was possible that Rebekah or Kol had decided to stop by. Perhaps even Niklaus. Who knew these days?
It wasn’t any of them.
He didn’t know who they were, but he couldn’t help but crack the door a touch. “Yes?”
He listened to the initial pitch. Someone who was talking about energy management. Very clearly human. Elijah found himself speaking after a moment, eyes focused on the man’s carefully. He didn’t really know what he was doing, just that he was doing it. “Come in. Don’t speak. Everything is fine. You are fine.”
The man - Jason, was it? He’d already forgotten - walked in. He didn’t react as if this was something concerning and Elijah further instructed him to stand still, told him not to worry. It was then that the hunger took over and he found himself with his teeth in the man’s neck. He didn’t make a peep, didn’t move a fraction. He relished in the coppery taste of blood washing over his tongue, the way the blood pulsed into his mouth with every heartbeat. He drank until he felt the heartbeat slow so much that he knew there was no way back. When he pulled back, there was a trail of blood running down his chin. A small pool collected in the little dip between his collarbones.
The man wasn’t moving and it wasn’t because he’d told him not to.
Almost an instant afterward, the guilt washed over him and he dropped the body, quickly moving away from it and wiping the blood off his mouth.
“Fuck.”
The life of an Assassin was rough, tainted with violence and hate - it was also a short life, if you were not careful. A finely-tuned sense of paranoia was beginning to settle over him, something that every Assassin must develop if they wished to survive, but this was his duty. This was his history, as he'd come to recently learn - all in the glory of Renaissance, Italy, a golden age of pomp and celebration. Achievements of art and culture and the introduction of exotic spices. Dreaming of it all was like remembering, it was like being there.
Seeing his father and brothers hanged had subdued him, in a sense. Even with the Leap of Faith, as he began to hone his abilities, he needed the time to process how he felt about it all. To even figure out what this all meant. Seeing Elijah helped, since both he and Ezio seemed determined to not think about their dreams much.
When he awakened, he stirred in bed, expecting to cuddle up and endear the other man to the idea of morning sex. Granted, Ezio liked it at all times of day, but it was the best way to wake up, no?
Only when he rolled over and flopped on an empty space, he realized he was alone. It was not too disconcerting though. This was Elijah's place, he could not have gone far. Pulling on the pair of soft sweatpants he'd brought and promptly lost sometime last night, he yawned and shuffled out into the living room.
Blood. There was blood. Not a lot of it; it was mostly on Elijah's face (and was he not wearing clothes? He was definitely not wearing clothes, had he answered the door like that? Naughty), and all the color disappeared from Ezio's when he saw the body quite clearly drained of life.
"Santa Maria degli Angeli e dei Martiri!" he spat in surprise. "What happened?"
Elijah heard Ezio before he saw him and he felt a bit more of a panic set in. He'd just killed a man and he had no idea how he was supposed to explain that. He coul have picked the body up and moved it, but by the time that thought was in his mind, Ezio was there and speaking Italian and he frowned.
“I…” He looked up at Ezio, his expression a mixture of panic and apology. “I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to…” But didn't he? Didn't he mean to do exactly what he'd done. He felt relieved that it wasn't Ezio, but there was guilt attached to that thought. He didn't know this man. Did he have a family? Did he have people that would look for him? “I was just so hungry. I didn't have any control over it. It just...you just...I thought it would be...different.” He thought he'd be able to control it. He thought he'd be fine, but he could see now that he wasn't fine. None of this was fine. “I tried to get blood from the fridge, but the doorbell rang and I…” He gestured to the body in front of him.
It was then that Ezio got a better look at Elijah and his aura (was that even what it was?) was red. Danger, a threat, do not trust. It was another sense kicking in, the Eagle Sense which evolved for Assassins - Ezio was still a little green with it, as far as he could tell, but genetics and the blood in his veins allowed him to even possess that sixth sense in the first place. It helped him think faster, synapses firing, a solution forming, puzzle pieces slotting together all in the span of a little amount of time - whereas someone else might be frozen, their muscles like hunks of ice because of a disconnect and the stress.
No, nothing about this was fine at all - but it had happened, and so now they had to deal with it. They, meaning Ezio was not going to just take off and leave Elijah with the fallout - or a corpse in his living room.
"Put some pants on," was his first instruction, because really, that did seem to be the key to success right now - and merda, helping someone get rid of a dead body probably pushed this whole situation from 'casual fling' to 'a little more serious,' considering he was even going to bother at all. "Stay here. I will take care of it."
He did not want to risk Elijah going out and being overwhelmed by too many heartbeats, the scent and pulse of life. Especially right now, when he was panicking. Eerily though, Ezio was calm. He was already thinking of what he would have to do - make it look like an attack by an animal, yes. Coyote attacks were on the rise in Orange County anyway; it was a growing issue in the area. It could happen. It would be done.
There was some sympathy for the man who had come to the door for whatever reason, and did not expect to meet the Grim Reaper today. But Assassins were forged from steel. They did not have time for sympathy, and could not afford much of it. Later he would consider whether that was even truly him or not.
"Just...I need a sheet. And a blanket." Saints be with him, he hoped no neighbors saw the poor environmentally-conscious man knocking on the door.
Elijah followed his instructions. He made his way back to his room and pulled clothes on, absently picking out a pair of pants and stopping in the bathroom to wash the blood off before pulling a shirt on. He stared at his reflection in the mirror as he buttoned it and made his way back out into the other room, bringing a sheet with him.
“I'm sorry.” He felt guilty about it. “I can do it if you need me too. I have strength enough to.” But he really didn't know what to do. He hadn't considered this before. He was in control in the dreams and if he killed people, he usually didn't really seem overly concerned about it. But he was concerned here. He wasn't supposed to kill people. It was supposed to just be something that happened.
Fidgeting with his daylight ring, Elijah looked at Ezio again and cleared his throat. “I think perhaps I underestimated this. Or at least overestimated my control. Maybe you shouldn't…” He couldn't finish the sentence even though he should. Maybe he shouldn't stay with him, shouldn't be here with him. Maybe he should just go to his house and not invite him in. He didn't feel safe, he wasn't safe to be around.
“Stop, basta,” Ezio looked up, from where he was tending to the body - a makeshift wrapping job with a sheet, getting the dead man all nice and bundled would have to do. He could not very well walk outside carting a lifeless figure. At least this looked...less conspicuous. “Later I will go over this with you but now, for the momento, I do not want you to be arrested. Stay here and...you have the bags of blood, yes? Drink those if you need to.” Call him paranoid, but going out and potentially massacring early morning dog-walkers and joggers did not seem too much of a stretch right now. This was all so new, so very new.
Because son of a baldracca, Elijah really was a vampire. Even if they had known it would happen, in a sense, it seemed to go so quickly. Last night he had been just a man and now he was a predator. A matter of hours, his whole life changed - could this place really do that? It seemed so difficult to fathom.
“I will be back,” Ezio decided firmly. “And I can do it, this, I can do this.” Whether it was adrenaline or developing enhanced abilities, he was stronger. A little faster. More agile. So it would be fine, it had to be.
Elijah frowned. His emotions felt...particularly stronger than he remembered them being. The guilt felt so strong he was certain that he would die from it if he wasn’t already a vampire. He felt a sorrow that he didn’t think needed to be so pronounced, but it was. His human life was over and this was what he’d been given. But he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t do something as ridiculous as give up his life when he had his siblings to consider and even Ezio. As much as he wanted to push him away, to protect him. He was suddenly glad he owned his place or he’d have been forced out. More people would have died. He still wasn’t sure that Ezio was safe around him right now. He sat slowly, his brow furrowed.
“You shouldn’t come back,” he said, his voice soft. But he knew he didn’t want him to stay away. It was the most ridiculously pathetic he’d ever felt in his entire life. He hated it. He hated himself. He felt anxious and moody, so he got up and started pacing.
“Okay. Fine. You go. I’ll drink the blood bags and...and I don’t know.” A sigh. “I don’t know,” he repeated. Maybe he’d come to his senses and decide not to come back. Elijah would understand. It would make sense. It would probably be the best choice. But he was particularly self depreciating at this moment, so it might have been the heightened emotions talking.
Of course Ezio came back. He did not expect he would have to get dressed and dispose of a body today, but that’s what he did - and true to his word, he did return. It probably was not wise - in fact, that other sense was telling him just that; red, a wash of it, that colored glow bathing the front door to Elijah’s place.
But Ezio went in anyway. He blinked to clear his vision, knocked once on the door, then just opened it to step into the entranceway. Quickly. Not dawdling. He’d made good time, on his ‘adventure’ out to commit a crime (oh, well - it was perhaps going to be first of many, technically).
“Elia?” As stealthy as he was, like he melted right into darkness and shadows, Elijah probably heard him regardless.
And Elijah had carefully consumed the blood bags that he had stashed in his fridge. He found that he didn’t like the experience as much, but it was for the best. He didn’t want to be hungry when Ezio came back - if he came back. He didn’t want to put him in danger. The more time passed, the more aware he was of things: the ability to hear practically everything, even the smallest sounds. The ability to smell everything in the general vicinity. It was grating.
He had heard him. He’d heard him coming up the walk, heard the knock at the door, his entry, his voice saying his name. He walked into the other room, looking the other man over. There was a hint of surprise in his expression, but not because he was surprised to find him. More that he was surprised he had come back at all.
“Ezio.” He moved a little closer before stopping again. “Are you…” He frowned. No. Probably not okay. He wanted to apologize again, but he bit it back. “Thank you...for helping me.”
Well, at least Ezio finally had a chance to process this. They both did - together. Elijah had a chance to do what was necessary (get his thirst under control? Nap in a coffin? Oh, fucking fuck), and now it was different. Before, there had been the dead man to attend to - it was not like they could just leave him in the living room.
But there was nothing but the two of them currently. Ezio stepped forward also, closing the distance between them. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting - sharp fangs, skin pale as milk, cavernous eyes, gaunt, pitiless, void of emotion. However, Elijah looked very much the same. He felt the same too, when Ezio brushed a hand over his cheek, cupping his face. “It is...I can be here?”
Ultimately, Elijah was not the same. Ezio had to accept it - a drastic change, but one nonetheless. There was no going back. On his end, he was still figuring out who he was - but above all, he was very human. And that meant something different now.
This had been his mother’s choice, his father’s choice. They had chosen this. They had done this to all of them because of Henrik’s death. They had made them into the things they were now. But there was no going back. Not that he was aware of. He was aware of the differences in himself and the feeling as if time had slowed. Time meant little when you were immortal.
But his eyes slid shut at the feeling of Ezio’s hand on his face. “It’s okay.” He felt a little more in control at the moment. But he wasn’t sure how long that would last. He was going to need to find someone that had vervain. He was going to have to get himself under control. Actual control. He leaned into his hand. He could smell the blood. He was decidedly still not under control. Under his eyes there were dark veins under his eyes and when he opened them, the whites of his eyes were red. He felt the fangs in his mouth and he moved back, using his vampire speed.
“Maybe not.” His voice sounded strained and he stared across the room at Ezio, eyes slowly clearing. “Sorry.”
Ezio’s eyes widened for a moment, cinnamon cream and a ring of gold - the look in Elijah’s, so hungry and feral, was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. Not to mention the speed at which he moved, the change in his face. It should have been terrifying - and in a way, it was. He did not know what would happen - this was essentially a newborn vampire he was dealing with here.
“It is alright,” he assured, and he did mean that. “I do not blame you, mio caro. You did not ask for this.” Of course Elijah woke up a vampire, and of course he drained a stranger (who happened to be there in the wrong place, at the wrong time) of blood - what else would anyone have done? It was instinct, and he didn’t fight it. That instinct was too strong, it could not be fought this early on - or so Ezio assumed.
Which meant that him being here might be too tempting, and yet he was...curious. Morbidly so. Terribly so.
“Do you need to - “ He swallowed. Was this a bad idea? Si. Would it prevent him from asking? No. “I know you will stop, before you kill me.” It seemed incredibly dangerous to learn how to be a vampire from blood bags. How would you ever learn to control yourself? Then again, it also seemed incredibly dangerous to let a new vampire feed from your vein - but Ezio lived for danger.
Elijah didn’t understand him. All of this and he was still talking to him like he wasn’t a monster, like everything wasn’t as bad as it seemed. And then to offer that of all things. To offer to let him feed off of him? Was he insane? It didn’t stop the bloodlust from creeping up. He wanted to. He wanted him. Not just in regards to the blood either. But that didn’t make him trust himself enough to go over there.
“How can you know that?” He felt himself inching closer against his better judgment. “How can you possibly trust me right now?”
“I suppose I do not know that,” Ezio admitted. He watched Elijah, his expression warm and inviting - never before had he offered himself to be a snack (at least not like this), but better him than someone else. The smart thing to do was leave, and not be around each other for awhile - that was logical. Yet Ezio could not stand the thought of Elijah being alone during such a tumultuous time. He would have his vampire siblings, yes, but - the stubborn Italian man had grown fond of him too, which meant he was staying until potentially kicked out.
He closed the distance between them and held Elijah’s arms, hands dragging upward and framing his face again, still watching. “You will make mistakes, Elia, it is just a part of coming to terms with this - “ Ezio fully expected that the dead energy-conscious recycler who was now vulture fodder, victim of a wild coyote attack, would not be the last mistake, “...But just remember that if you can do it with me, you can do it with anyone. It must start somewhere.” Feed, not kill. Elijah would have to learn all over again; he was centuries old in his dreams. Here, not so much.
His siblings would have tips for him too, no doubt. Maybe they used blood bags to sustain themselves, and that was their choice. But Ezio didn’t really see how that was doing any good, personally.
The idea of there being more dead people made Elijah feel ill. In his dreams, he did not feel the same. He knew this because he’d seen himself. In the dreams feeding was simple, easy. He had control there. He could feed without killing and usually he made them forget anyway. There was no problem or concern. He killed without remorse as well. Especially those who hurt or threatened his family. He’d have to learn how to control himself here and he couldn’t just kill people who upset his family. He had to be more controlled in all aspects, better at being more human. He also couldn’t feed on Ezio all the time. Not even if he offered. He would have to find other sources, which meant he would have to get better at this. Still, he would feel worse about killing Ezio than he would some stranger he ran into outside of the house. It was just that he wished he could be in control of this before he drank from Ezio, but the other man had a point...stupidly stubborn as he seemed at the moment.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” And he didn’t, but the desire for blood was always going to be stronger than that in a way. He guessed there wasn’t really a way to prevent causing harm entirely, but it didn’t make him feel any better about it. Ezio was trying to help him. He was kind and loyal - he had gotten rid of a dead body for him. If that proved nothing, he wasn’t sure what would. Elijah appreciated all of this about him. The warmth of his hands on his face was welcome. He allowed himself to focus on it for a moment. He leaned in for a quick kiss as if that would make up for the pain that would come after.
Whether or not Ezio would have minded, Elijah couldn’t help but feel a strong disinterest for making a mess of someone else’s clothes. That being the case, his fingers wrapped around the other man’s arm, one on the wrist and the other a little further up to support the arm. The dark veins appeared again under his eyes and his sclera turned red again. After a brief moment, he sank his teeth into Ezio’s arm. This was better, so much better than the blood bags. He didn’t want to go back to them if he could avoid it. He made a soft, contented noise as he drank, his grip tightening.
Ezio was expecting him to go for the neck, so Elijah biting his arm was a little bit of a surprise. It didn’t feel like ecstasy but it was not terrible either - mostly he just focused on flurries of self-preservation running through his mind and the ebb and throbb of his pulse in his own ears, beating a timpani. Elijah did look better the more he drank (the darkness to his eyes notwithstanding); like a watercolor, the blood suffusing through him - it was what he needed, wasn’t it?
“Bello,” he crooned his favorite nickname for Elia to get his attention, reaching up with the free hand to push fingers through his hair. Many Italians, they said bello or bella so casually, to anyone, but it was different now. Elijah was very handsome - and the image of him was also swimming in and out, as Ezio watched through lidded eyes. That was quite a bit of light-headedness, and he sagged a little. “Vieni qui. Come here.”
There was something intimate (and...strange) about drinking your lover’s blood. Ezio thought so - he was both simultaneously about to pass out and aroused, which made for an interesting experience.
Elijah, hearing the nickname and feeling his heart start slowing a little more than it should have, forced himself to stop. He was going to put space between them, but it seemed that Ezio needed a bit of help staying upright, so Elijah forced himself to breathe and push back the predatory part of himself. His eyes cleared and the veins disappeared. His expression changed as concern etched on it.
He picked Ezio up easily. He wasn’t all that heavy, all things considered. He looked at Ezio’s arm, a frown on his face. “I’m sorry,” he said as he placed him down on the couch. “I took too much.” But he was not dead. That was the important part. He was not dead. It was something. The smallest flutter of hope.
Only he had to right this.
“I can help,” she said after a moment, finding it strange that this was where they were. He pulled his own wrist closer before biting it and then pressing it against Ezio’s mouth. “Drink.” He considered for a moment the vampire lore. “It won’t turn you,” he promised. “But it will heal you and help with the blood loss.” Elijah had to admit that if he’d wondered about the seriousness of their relationship at all, this definitely had ‘getting more serious’ written all over it. It wasn’t every relationship that involved discarding of a dead body and shared blood drinking.
No, Ezio was not dead - he was just ashen and woozy, also confused about drinking Elijah’s blood in turn. That was really happening? But he did trust the man, and so if he did it would help then Ezio believed him. So he held Elijah’s wrist to his mouth and let the blood wash over his tongue, swallowing - once, twice, another time.
Salty. It did not taste like ambrosia, just coppery and reminiscent of iron and metal - but then again, like he would expect blood to taste of Belgian chocolate. Even a vampire’s blood.
Already, he did feel better - there was more color to him, back to a pallor that was more fitting for a human and not a ghost. “See? That was not bad, for your first day as a vampire,” he said, hooking his fingers in those belt loops - he pulled Elijah close and kissed him, mouth smeared with blood and looking all macabre but Ezio didn’t care. His hands didn’t stay idle - they slid up Elijah’s shirt, fingers curling to touch ab muscles and back down, hungrily, to rip open his pants. So happy to be alive, this Italian was. Happy that his lover hadn’t killed him by sucking him dry of blood. Such strange times they lived in.
“Next time perhaps do not answer the door naked though, yes?”
Elijah felt relieved once Ezio started to look a little more human again. His arm healed relatively quickly once Ezio was done drinking from it. He wasn’t actually that surprised, but he was aware of a hint of blood on his clothes. He made a face, but it was short lived. “Oh yes. I only killed one person. It’s been a great succ-” The end of the sentence was cut off by Ezio’s mouth on his and he decided there wasn’t really a reason to argue with it. He tasted like blood and it was certainly not something Elijah had considered happening.
He chuckled softly into the kiss as he felt Ezio's hands on his pants. He didn't really argue with where it was going, however. He was more than happy to shed clothes again. He was also happy to help Ezio shed clothes again. Showing little regard for his own shirt, Elijah pulled it off without unbuttoning it, which resulted in quite a few buttons being removed. He'd get someone to replace them later. It was of little importance to him now. He had other shirts.
“I think I can at least agree to that. For your sake.”
“Bene, bene,” Ezio purred, so incredibly flattered that Elia was willing to sacrifice his shirts (and there went the buttons, scattering like an evening’s snow flurry) for the sake of this. Meaning getting rid of clothes as soon as possible - a very valiant mission. His hands mapped their way down the front of Elijah, carefully, as if feeling for any differences, but there did not seem to be any - nor down his pants, a searching grope to accompany the next kiss Ezio gave him. Elijah was elegant, his mouth was elegant, sharp and made of fine teeth that threatened to draw blood and did.
There was something vicious about that, something that Ezio liked, something that fueled the desperate heat he felt. “Caramellino,” an outward rush of breath, and he could feel his heart pounding; it had been such a day, he did not even know where to begin to deal with it. This was a good start though. “How fast can you bring me to your room?”
Some things were worth sacrificing for handsome Italian men. It wasn’t like he didn’t have more where that one came from. His shirt went on the floor to spend time with the buttons. Then his hands were back to Ezio, fingers slipping under Ezio’s shirt so he could explore the skin there. He didn’t expect to find any changes, but that didn’t make him any less interested in touching him anywhere and everywhere he could. Ezio’s hand down his pants earned him a sharp intake of breath through his nose. It also brought back the veins and the redness in his eyes. Lust was a strong enough emotion to bring it out.
Instead of answering, Elijah carefully stood, letting his pants drop before picking Ezio up again and using his vampire speed to get to the room in a matter of seconds. The moment they got to the bed, Elijah dropped Ezio onto the bed and climbed over him, leaning in to kiss him.
“It seems you are a bit overdressed for the occasion,” Elijah commented after a moment. “Let me help you with that.” He smirked before he hooked his fingers in the waistband of Ezio’s pants and pulled down, doing his best not to rip anything, but he was sure he could replace anything that needed replacing in the end.
Cazzo. Porca miseria! Ezio did not know what was sexier - the fact that Elijah’s face did that creepy-eyed look of hunger thing again (then again, what did that say? Besides that it indicated strange tastes), or that he could so easily pick up another man and just blink off with him. Taking control in the bedroom did not hurt either; all of that elicited a low groan from him, lifting his hips to make pants and the removal of what he had beneath all the more easier. He was a giver, you see. Very helpful.
“Better?” he asked, chuckling a little, slightly breathless from the brief trip over here. He reached up, thumb lightly tracing what looked like spider veins beneath Elijah’s eyes - and he was not afraid, but wondered if the craving was for blood or something else entirely. Or if the something else satisfied the craving for blood a little.
But he shifted their positions then, settling in between thighs he nudged apart, hands on Elijah’s hips - the grip was tight, and Ezio’s mouth was wet, greedy, and warm. He was no slobbering virgin when it came to going down on someone, and he would gladly do it - he wanted Elijah, the taste of him on Ezio’s tongue like a potent and intoxicating vintage. Eyes that stared upward were rich coffee and glazed over with eagerness, and he let out a quiet hum from around his mouthful that was meant to tease and torment. Just a little.
Elijah allowed his eyes to take in the sight of Ezio and he hummed his approval. “Yes. Much better.” He’d found that he enjoyed the sight of Ezio without his clothes just as much (if not more) than him with clothes.
The truth at the moment was that he probably could have fed again, but he wanted something else more than blood for now. Perhaps it was because he had already had so much for the day, but he liked to think that the sexual attraction he was feeling at this moment was enough to distract his mind from all thoughts of feeding off of him. His mind was more focused on all of the other things he wanted to do to him, the feel of Ezio’s skin under his hands. And that had been a good line of thought. He wanted to discover all of the things he liked. And then he was on his back with Ezio between his legs and all of those thoughts disappeared as the other man’s mouth closed around him.
His eyes were focused for a moment on Ezio’s and the way he looked in that moment. Fuck, he was beautiful. He was a fucking beautiful menace. Elijah had no comprehension of why Ezio had been interested in him in the first place and there was even less now that he was a monster, but there was definitely no way he could formulate the words to tell him to leave in this moment. The humming made his head drop back, fingers clutching at the sheets and a low moan escaping from his lips.
By now Ezio’s own lips were glistening, moving up and down, back up again, the motions that came with showing someone a good time by burying your face in between their legs - and that was always alla grande for the other person too, wasn’t it? Well. He thought it should be, or else why bother.
He pulled his mouth away only just far enough to take a breath, slightly triumphant and feral - in fact, “Ti voglio scopare,” he told Elijah, sliding back up, holding his weight on his arms and his back muscles flexing - they were nose to nose, he was so close to sharp teeth, but that is the way this should be. Bruises, scratches, clothes ripping, pure passion. The act of having killed and ditched a body earlier in the day. Heartfelt oaths could be for some other time, but not right now.
Scopare. It sounded much more romantic than the word fuck, but that’s what it meant. Ti voglio scopare, I want to fuck you. He was sure he had taught Elijah the important slang, at least. “Yes?”
He was new to the ways in which men did their mamboing - it was considerate, to ask first. And Ezio was a considerate lover, he liked to think; he enjoyed intensity in fucking, but not to the point where it genuinely hurt.
Elijah did know those words and a few others as well. If he didn’t know them, he’d gotten in a habit of asking because it made things much clearer. Like right now, with Ezio so close to his face, to this face asking if he could fuck him. It sounded much nicer in Italian. He looked up into those eyes, careful not to say anything for the moment just in case. Compulsion wasn’t something he needed to accidentally unleash during sex and he had a few responses that might cause problems, so he had to keep it simple.
“Yes,” he said after a moment had passed. He may not have been very familiar with everything, but he wanted it, wanted him. There hadn't been anything so far that he could say hadn't been enjoyed and he trusted Ezio - even more now that he'd discarded of a body for him. It was, perhaps, something unusual to be turned on by, but here he was.
“Bene, bello,” the words practically melted, a timbre of warmth and smooth as a lazy meadow river. Ezio kissed him again, teeth and tongue, before he managed to pull away to get what he would need for this (lubricant, always lubricant). But he couldn’t help it, touching Elijah was a compulsion all on its own.
He knew what it was like, being taken - there was pain, but the good kind, a fierce and sweet kind that set nerve endings aflame and pushed endorphins up his spine and to his brain so that all he could do was completely spin out in pleasure and sensation. But you had to be ready first, had to prepare, your partner had to make sure of it - which Ezio did, fingers slicked, everything slicked. And he didn’t ultimately take Elijah until he was ready, giving over some of the control - a gradual pace of accepting un cazzo where it usually did not go.
It was a cloying sort of torment, the kind you simultaneously did and did not want to crawl out of. “Ti farò gemere,” he promised, I will make you scream, and he most certainly was not cock-neglectful. Ezio gripped him at the base, stroking upward through the thrust. And the next. And the one after that. Elijah did not give off ‘screamer’ vibes, but still, Ezio would get him to make noise regardless. Oh yes.
His hands came up frame Ezio’s face while they kissed. The scent of blood and the sound of Ezio’s heartbeat only making the current situation better. He could still taste a remnant of it on his lips and tongue. It was intoxicating.
The experience was certainly different than any he’d known before, but he gave himself over to the sensations. He let it blur in his mind with the scents and sounds he picked up on. The obvious shifts in breathing and his heartbeat were enough to give him an idea of what he liked, what felt good to him and he found himself wanting even more to use that knowledge to discover everything else. Was it cheating? Perhaps, but cheating for the good of others, for the sake of making Ezio feel good. He had time to use these new talents.
Focus and the ability to hold onto all of the information, however, was difficult with the physical sensations as they were. There were brief moments of clarity, but his mind felt fuzzy and his body felt like it was on fire, the good kind of fire. He wasn’t, as surmised, much of a screamer, but he didn’t try to disguise when something felt good. There were definitely noises.
Being a man - well, Ezio also knew what it was like to actually be a man. Once they really got started it was a hurried, swear-filled rush to the finish line. It was difficult to stop and really enjoy the pleasure because there was just so much.
However, he forced himself to slow and give in to the enjoyment, to make it more about than just getting off. A tempo that was going to make them both drop bad words and writhe (and for Elia to make more of those noises); harder, a good pace, each stroke deep since he didn't want anything shallow. He wanted the full deal.
It was all making him lose every sense of sanity outside of this moment. He groaned and strained, using every swear word he could think of in the multiple languages he knew. All until he just had to give up, there was unfortunately no choice since his body demanded it, with one last jerk of his hips and then came with a spasm and that shorting out, electric white behind the eyelids sensation and a guttural groan.
His limbs felt like they had lead tied to them, followed by someone conveniently tossing him off a bridge, but he was not going to collapse. Not yet. Instead, he scooted down and swallowed that cock whole again. “Vieni,” he encouraged Elijah, once he had a moment to breathe. “Come, bello.” In his mouth. On his tongue. He did not care.
It was sheer force of will that he had not been totally undone by the time that Ezio was. He felt cliched just thinking that it had been nothing like he expected. It was so much better than he’d expected. A little strange in the beginning, but the more time that passed, the better it was. Ezio clearly knew what he was doing.
Ezio’s mouth was warm around him and he finally let go and let his body give into everything, a swear on his lips as he did. His body relaxed into the bed, eyes starting to clear again. He closed them and focused on regaining his ability to breathe again. After a moment, he moved to pull Ezio up closer to him again, pulling him in for a kiss. It was languid, open mouthed, with a little tongue. When he pulled back, there was a breathy laugh.
“Well,” he started. “That was not how I expected today to go in the slightest.”
“No?” Ezio laughed too, teasing, like he wasn’t expecting Elijah to say that - because what, this was obviously how he expected his day to go. And now he did not want to move, since he was comfortable and sweaty, sticking to Elijah and dangerously close to where he’d seen those fangs pop out. But this vampire did not seem hungry - he seemed just as fucked out as Ezio was. And that brought about quite the feeling of pride.
So as long as Elijah didn’t make him move, Ezio was fine with most anything happening right now. “It was...very much a day, bello. I am sure there will be more.” His fingers petted Elijah’s hair, a soothing gesture that slowed when Ezio closed his eyes. “I just need a nap, I think.”
He did not know what they would do, in terms of how everything had changed - but Ezio was no fortune teller. They would just have to see what came at them next, and find a way to work with it. Even if he would dream of blood-drained bodies and eyes that were all black hole pupils - he’d be seeing it for awhile.
Elijah was far from making Ezio move. Mostly because he had no intention of moving himself. He laughed a little at the teasing, but he just made himself more comfortable instead of moving to push him lightly like he’d thought about doing.
“Mmm. Perhaps not as unusual as this one,” he said after a moment. “I will hope.” Because if he had a lot of these days, with the dead bodies involved, he was not sure he would be able to deal with it. That or he’d have to dispose of his own bodies. He moved his arm only enough so that it would rest over Ezio’s waist. “Nap,” he repeated. “Yes. A nap sounds good.”
He hoped he didn’t dream anything during that nap, but he was pretty sure that he was too tired to really fight off sleeping. He was more than happy to stay exactly where he was and let himself drift off.