episode 3

Mitchell walks with Anders to the blond’s hotel through the snowy streets. Christmas lights are twinkling in people’s windows and doorways, as the Holiday is only days away. He wishes he could feel as merry and carefree as the people they are passing, their breaths blowing mists over their colorful scarves. One group of young women stumble by them singing a slightly slurred, giggly version of “Good King Wenceslas”.

Anders is merry, too, and dragging Mitchell by the hand urging him to walk faster. The brunet would not have this change. Not a single fleck of snow in Anders’ beard, not a square millimeter of blush in his cheeks, not one dumb joke or crass comment about figgy pudding. He loves every moment.

But he is on edge, too, his senses bristling ever since it got dark. He should have timed their exit from the restaurant better. Herrick hasn’t bothered Mitchell overly much since he returned, alone and so obviously suffering. He knows only too well Herrick likes it just fine when Mitchell suffers. But if his sire were to find out Anders was here… He knows the vampire leader has eyes everywhere and even suspects Herrick’s connection to him may be powerful enough not to even need spies.  He’d had inklings of that over the years, that somehow Herrick always knew where he was, and who he was with.

They are vulnerable out here. The vampire knows that he is weak, having not fed in many months. He could take on two of them, maybe, if he were by himself, but with Anders here Mitchell’s heart seizes at every shadow.

He can see the hotel just up ahead, and pulls Anders closer to him, his arm snaking around the blond’s waist. Anders draws in a breath to make a wise crack, but then bites it back when he looks at Mitchell’s darkened eyes and furrowed brow. He goes a bit pale, remembering, just for a moment.

“What is it Mitchell?”

The brunet looks at him and tries to smile reassuringly. “Nothin’, It’s just best we get indoors.”

They walk on in silence.

When they finally reach the door to Anders’ room they are both trembling with relief. The blond fits the key into the lock and turns it, pushing it open and stepping inside, pulling Mitchell with him—

Only to feel the brunet pull back, remaining in the open doorway.

Anders turns, dismayed, but Mitchell tips his head to the side and smiles his warm Irish smile that always goes straight to Anders’ core.

“You have to invite me in, remember?”

“Oh god!” the blond’s hand flies to his forehead as his eyes close in disbelief. Mitchell begins to laugh. “Of all the god-damned ridiculous--- paradoxical--! A vampire needs permission to enter your residence before he can rip your throat out! How could I forget something so fucking obvious!”

They are both laughing now, the tension of their walk dissolving into something warm and familiar that belongs only to them and that swims back and forth between their eyes.

“Get your genteel vampire *** in here.”

Mitchell steps inside, closing the door firmly behind him with relief.

When he turns back Anders has already peeled off his winter coat and scarf and is reaching for him, hooking one hand in Mitchell’s belt loop and pulling him towards the bed as the brunet unwinds his own scarf from his neck, letting it slither to the floor. The blond grasps Mitchell by the hips and turns him so they fall together onto the firm hotel mattress. Anders covers Mitchell’s body with his own, digging his hands behind the brunet’s shoulders and possessing the tilt of his head before pressing his open mouth down onto Mitchell’s parted lips. Anders tongue licks deeply into Mitchell’s mouth, a long breath exhaling out of him as though he’d been holding the air in his lungs all these weeks, his fingers threading through Mitchell’s dark curls.

He doesn’t see Mitchell’s eyes crinkling, his brow furrow into a wince at Anders’ lack of guile, lack of fear. The blond’ s total trust in him brings a trembling ache to his gut that travels up his forearms and into his hands, and sets his mind at war with his body. He revels in Ander’s touch, his mouth opening to accept Ander’s kiss, but his own limbs feel paralyzed and he caresses the blond curls and smooth shoulders tentatively, as though he could somehow apologize with his fingertips.

He had broken a promise. He cannot forget how much stronger his own body is compared to the precious blond body that makes love to him now, a gift he is still not certain he deserves. Anders touches him as though he has already forgiven Mitchell for an act he hasn’t even apologized for.

They haven’t even talked about it yet. And it doesn’t look like they will be talking about it right now.

Or more likely, knowing Anders, the blond is choosing to forget it ever happened, burying it deep, barricading it firmly away from interfering with his need for Mitchell to be the rational, unimpeachably good-hearted Mitchell he has known, and definitely not the psychotic, sadistic Mitchell Anders experienced on that terrible night some months ago.

For the moment, Mitchell closes his eyes and decides to join him there in that land of sweet denial.

He presses his mouth against Ander’s jaw, tasting and breathing in the rich bristly musk of the blond beard. Their bodies grind together through several layers of clothing and they breathe hard, their heat rising, their heads angling around each other and their mouths seeking warm skin wherever they can find it. Anders traces a hand down Mitchell’s chest and feels the brunet moan and shudder under him as he reaches the rim of his jeans and traces his fingers firmly against the hard shaft beneath the denim.

“So tell me you missed me,” whispers Anders, still stroking him and tracing his tongue along Mitchell’s bottom lip.

“I missed you, yeah.” Chokes Mitchell as he reaches for the buttons on Anders’ shirt. The blond sits up and pulls the shirt off, then works at the fasteners of Mitchell’s coat and flannel, tearing the sleeves only part way down the vampire’s arms so that he is effectively pinned at the elbows. Anders curls one arm under Mitchell’s waist, arching his body upwards, and uses his other hand to push the brunet’s black T shirt up to expose the long torso. The blond runs his hand over the cool skin of Mitchell’s chest, brushing his fingers across hardened nipples and dragging his lips and tongue down the smooth stomach. The vampire doesn’t need to breathe, but he still lets out a ragged set of breaths as Anders works his way down to the fly of his jeans, undoing it and exposing a hard bulge under black boxers.

“Honestly, Mitchell,” says Anders as he mouths the brunet’s cock through the cotton fabric, “do you have any clothing that isn’t black?”

“ahhh…” breathes Mitchell, craning his hips upwards as Anders blows his hot breath against him, “well, you know, it’s so slimming.”

Anders grins, finally dragging the boxers down, He wraps his hand around the shaft and pumps slowly, eliciting another shiver from the brunet. Anders looks up at Mitchell’s gorgeous body for a moment, taking in his closed eyes and partly opened lips, his hands with their long tapered fingers curling and uncurling at his sides. The sight of him brings a small moan from Anders’ own throat and he suddenly dips his head down to catch one of Mitchell’s fingers in his mouth, pulling it deep inside and tracing his tongue over the seam between index finger and thumb.

“Oh god, yes.” whispers Mitchell. Anders need no further inducement, and finally slips his mouth fully around Mitchell’s cock, wrapping his tongue around him once, and then takes him as far down into his throat as he can.

Mitchell’s head flies backwards, his mouth opening into a passionate groan as his hands paw at Ander’s shoulders and he pedals his long legs against the coverlet.

“gnnnhhh…Anders…I’m so close.”

The blond takes his mouth off Mitchell, quickly unzips himself, and brings both of their erections into his warm hand, pumping them together as he brings his body down and presses his forehead against Mitchell’s where his wide blue eyes stare down into equally wide brown ones.

When Mitchell’s back arches and his eyes squeeze shut it pushes Anders over the edge, too, and warm come collects between them before they both collapse against each other.

“Well that’s a first,” says Anders once he’s managed to catch his breath, as Mitchell chuckles softly under him.

“We never even took our boots off.”

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