No Ordinary Date [Fable]

[Myk]

La Saint-Valentin, or Valentine’s Day, has become a commercial celebration spread across Western countries and today it revolves around the giving of cards and gifts to the one you love. The French celebrate the event in much the same way that other Westerners do since the ban of “une loterie d’amour” or “the lottery of love”. This custom saw single people in France standing outside houses calling out for other singletons until they eventually paired off together. If the male was not particularly attracted to his new suitor, he would leave her. All of the single women who had been left would then gather to make a fire and burn images of the men that had abandoned them. This ceremony, whilst rather therapeutic for the single women involved, soon got out of hand and was banned by the French government.

Despite his Parisian roots, Myk had never been one to respect the traditional ways of romance. He had his own ideas of what two people could get up to in order to express their affections for one another. A gift and a card were nice gestures, but they were also rather predictable and hardly outlandish enough for the white-haired Telepath. Besides, he preferred to share experiences with his loved ones – not that he didn’t enjoy doting and being doted upon – and he already thought that he had the best idea for a date to share with Fable. There was nothing like a little deviancy, a little sin, to bring a couple together. It could be their little secret. Fable could let the devil out from inside and Myk would be there to hold his hand and help cage the monster again. Fable was such a good boy – like a puppy, really – but even the smallest canine had a wolf inside of them. Myk was certain that he could show Fable how to be at peace with himself during their date tonight.

Being alone and single had always had its perks along with its obvious disadvantages. He could wake late in the evening with a cold heart in a cold, empty bed, but he could do as he pleased with no thoughts for anyone; he couldn’t bother them and they didn’t bother him. So when Myk woke this evening, he breathed deeply into his downy pillow and with eyes still closed, stretched his arm out as he always did with some unconscious desire to feel a warm body under his fingers, breathing steadily and sleeping like a child. There was a feeling of velvet on his skin and he followed the shape of it, sweeping up over a shoulder blade and down the length of a spine before two humps of flesh disappeared under silk sheets beyond his reach. Myk smiled, letting his pewter eyes slip open to admire the view. His fingers, meanwhile, continued to tease the base of the male’s spine, drawing an endless figure-eight pattern along the fleshy trench.

“Are you awake yet?” Myk asked.

His voice was a hum of pleasure in the pitch silence of the bedroom. It was only just past dusk, but Myk didn’t want to waste any time. He had a lot of plans in store for the both of them and just hoped that Fable would be willing to trust him enough to join in.

[Fabs]

It was an interesting night.

It was always an interesting night when Myk was involved. He had been back in Harper Rock now for a little under two weeks now and he had spent all his time with Myk almost besides a few moments where they separated and did their own thing. Fable lusted the man, and wanted to worship him whenever he had the opportunity to.

He could feel fingers tracing along his spine in the figure eight. Was he awake? Well. He was now. He sighed and groaned. He was not a morning person. Despite it being dusk.

”No.” Eyes still closed he chuckled into the pillow. The pillow a little moist. Fable was a known drooler couldn’t control himself. Sometimes got stuck in his beard - back when he had a longer one. Now it was simply stubble.

Now he was back in Harper Rock he had resumed his business in the Antique Shop. Luckily it had been left untouched and no one had resumed ownership of it so he spent some nights there. Sorting inventory. It was soothing to the man, he enjoyed it - and it brought some of his old life back - plus he had the trinkets he had brought with him back to this city from his travels. He had however renamed the business to a ‘Step In Time’ He couldn’t quite understand however why there was so much military around the city. He was curious to know how much he had actually missed in his absence.

One eye peeked open. Looking at the wall in front of him. Then the other followed suit until he was looking with his ocean blue orbs at the wall. He breathed in Myk’s scent and looked at the silk sheets before them both. Her turned his head around to look at Myk’s form. His own hair shaggy and bed ridden. He could always rock the ‘just got out of bed look’. His naked form threw the covers back revealing all as he stepped around the otherside to wear a pair of grey calvin klein boxers lay on the floor. He pushed them on - he wasn’t going to wear them today, but he would use them to walk around in for the time being until he decided when he wanted to leave and go about his business.

His fingers ran through his hair shaping the shaggy mess his fingernails scraping across his scalp as he yawned. He moved to the kitchen area. He could eat anything, however he would make himself a cup of coffee just to smell the beverage.

It reminded him of his humanity - not a morning went by where he didn’t have a cup of coffee. He would give anything to have that taste again, yet for now. He’ll happily settle for smelling it. His fingers brushed against the kettle as he pushed the power on and watched the steam rise from the machine. He was transfixed.

He didn’t even register that it was Valentine’s Day, he had never really been into the holiday before or celebrated it. So it didn’t occur to him to even utter the words to his unspoken Valentine. He peeked around the corner of the kitchen to look at Myk with those steely blue eyes with nothing but admiration for the man.

”I need a shower soon. Care to join?” He already knew the answer.

[Myk]

Shifting his weight up the bed, Myk turned sideways and perched his head on a curled fist. His elbow punched into the pillow, bringing the sides up nearer to his chin as he leant inward toward the other male. He could just make out the side of Fable’s face from behind a shoulder and admired the muscles and nerves reacting to stimulation as he continued to draw patterns on the man’s back. The biometrics made him smile just as much as the blonde’s juvenile tumult had done to being woken so early. It quickly became a game to Myk as his gentle massages became teasing strokes of his claws. He was light enough not to break the skin, but he did pressure the skin into leaving red lines in his wake. Fable protested naturally; denied being awake, sealed his eyes shut, and turned his face into the pillow.

And just as naturally as the prey runs, the predator follows.

Myk leant in further, parted lips bracing against the male’s earlobe. The bitter-sweet perfume of cinnamon and dark chocolate mixed with cedar bark enrobed his senses as he breathed in. Being this close to the other man was very much like bathing in hot cocoa; that eye-rolling, deep-seeking pleasure that warmed into the bones. Still, there was something very innocent about it all that enticed the darker, sinister parts of him and encouraged his clawed hand to work its way around a ribcage, paw at pectorals and where a throbbing heart once was, and then reach down, down. Down. Until his nails scraped against the last nodule of the abdominal shelf.

“Good,” Myk whispered with mock-seething. “I prefer my prey prone. Defenceless.”

Myk caught the man’s earlobe between his teeth as well as the moment that one cerulean eye peeked open and then another, but the substantial lack of fear in that gaze was disconcerting. His frustration paled against confusion for a moment and his hand stilled its descent. Fable turned to look at him and Myk held his position; their noses grazing behind the conflict of pewter meeting blue. Myk’s expressions were unreadable, unreliable; the stoic face drafted from porcelain by an uncreative potter. Fable, meanwhile, was a piece of unreserved joy; a Monet landscape of sunflower fields warmed by the lazy afternoon sun. The Telepath didn’t notice the rain clouds moving in until Fable whisked the duvet covers away and stepped out of bed.

The white-haired one’s instant reaction was to drop back into the bed with a huff; the white pillows and covers flouncing around him like Monroe’s famous dress. Yet, he naturally felt like the subway grating beneath the blonde bombshell’s feet as Fable pranced away into his wake-up routine. Myk addressed the ceiling with his stormy grey eyes in an attempt to distract himself, but he was far too aware of the kettle being switched on in the other room. A latent habit from his years as a British citizen had made it a damn near necessity that he have a kettle for tea, but not a coffee maker; Fable would have to make do. He was appeased by that and the fact that footprints rounded the corner again before a question was asked.

“I suppose,” Myk sulked.

He tossed the covers aside, sat up, and then threw his legs over the side. He wasn’t as eager to leave the bed as the other male had been and neither was he keen on getting dressed simply to get undressed again. So, while he waited for Fable to get ready, he sat unreservedly in his nakedness and tossed his bone-white tresses over the one shoulder. Grabbing a brush from the nightstand, Myk focused on taming those unruly locks and combing out the knots of sleep. Unlike Fable, the Telepath did not have that attractive bed-head look about him. As a matter of fact, his thick and textured hair often matted, frizzed, and defied gravity in a way that only Old English Sheepdogs were used to. It was marginally cute for a dog, but not for a Vampire, and if they were heading into the shower, he definitely had to get those knots out. The water always made things worse.

[Fabs]

Thirst was the feeling that hit him first. He walked back into the kitchen and in the small mini fridge was a contraband blood bag. He bought a few and stored them here, Fable was a creature of habit he was drink the bags he didn’t have the fangs that would allow him to drink from humans and it was something he would never do, that much he had vowed to himself when he had first been sired by Velveteen. He ripped into the bag with his remaining teeth and began to swallow the liquid in one big gulp draining the bag dry. The thirst dissipated in seconds as he left the empty blood bag on the counter as he moved back into the main area of the boat where he glanced at the man still in bed covered in those beautiful sheets of his.

Fable could hear the sigh coming from Myk’s lips as he was already up and out of bed and already looking to shower and get on with the bits and bobs that needed to done tonight before he could come back to bed with Myk. He could also hear the eye roll Myk was giving.

His ocean blue orbs turned back to look at the Telepath with an eyebrow raised, before he began to remove the garments from his body. His eyes drank in the naked form of his friend. He then began to move towards the bathroom where he turned on the shower and began to wait for the bathroom to steam up before climbing inside the water starting to trickle down his chest and wet his hair, tendrils of water now tickling the skin as he submerged himself further into the water. His palms rested against the wall of the shower as he stood there, appreciating the water. Waiting for the man to join him.

Man, lover, boyfriend.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on what the man was to Fable. They hadn’t discussed and he was pretty sure it was something that wouldn’t come up. They both enjoyed their fun. If that was what it was, Fable did yearn for more but Myk was a free spirit so he kept his lips sealed. He would not ask for more. He wouldn’t dare.

[Myk]

The Telepath was in the process of braiding his hair when the vision of Fable bounced back into the room. Perhaps it was his imagination, but the light followed the man in, bringing with it a cheery glow that reminded him of lazy summer evenings. There was a space in his heart that longed for those nights when stolen kisses burned as sweet as the tangerine sun. Myk held his features tightly, compressing a smile into a tight line and his brows into a sharp look of boredom. His pewter eyes flickered upward to catch sight of the man just long enough to imprint him onto his corneas before he continued to focus on what he was doing. A fishtail braid seemed appropriate for a visit with water and it wouldn’t take long for Myk’s dexterous hands to entwine the strands of platinum hair into the perfect style.

The sound of the shower spurting into action gave him cause to look up again; pewter eyes lifted into a curious stare as he spotted Fable lingering in the doorway, waiting for the water to warm. Myk found it intriguing how readily the other male clung to mortal habits despite his age. In fact, the innocence that bled out from his core was ill-fitting when one considered the very sight of him. Fable was a contradiction like a Faberge-Kinder egg; unrivalled beauty on the outside housing a child’s toy. It pulled Myk in several directions at once, which was probably why he was so fond of the other man. Another analogy which Myk could compare his doe-eye beau to was a Russian nesting doll as there always seemed to be a smaller person hidden inside the last. Was there an end to such absurd naivety? Myk hoped so if for nothing more than his remaining sanity. He didn’t think he could cope with the idea of being genuine with another person again without breaking down into a fit of laughter and Fable convinced him to try.

Myk’s breath whistled out between his wolfish teeth in contention, at once again being at war with himself. At least all of his personalities could agree that the sight of Fable’s naked flesh basking in a warm mist was undoubtedly the most unbearably delicious thing he had ever seen. It was the movement that had caught his attention; the sight of white boxers being drawn down that peachy, firm skin was like a rabbit’s tail in the tall grass to a hunting wolf. His head twitched into position and his pupils were as thin as slits. He watched, unreservedly, as Fable opened the door to the shower and stepped inside before the haze of the steam became a nagging obstacle. Slowly, the white-haired Vampire stood and stalked to the doorway before soundless steps carried him across the threshold. He ducked his head to position himself between Fable’s outstretched arms, even if it meant pressing his back against the cold shower wall and getting a face full of water.

“Fancy seeing you here,” the Telepath purred in a low voice, baring his permanent fangs.

It was hardly a threat. As a matter of fact, Myk only wanted the other man to draw closer to him. Cool hands found a place on each of Fable’s shoulders, his fingers curling where the trapezius muscle joins the deltoid. Eventually, the heat of the shower would warm his corpse-cold skin, yet his lover always seemed to be a furnace in comparison. It was a cruel reminder of his frailty and a premonition born of history’s unlearned lessons. Fable was bright and warm while Myk was cold and merely reflected the brilliance of others. Before long, there would be an eclipse or worse yet, he’d burn up in the heat of their love. Myk dared not to think about it, instead focusing on enjoying the time they had. He did have plans for their first Valentine’s day together, even if Fable was completely ignorant and undesiring…