Sam doesn't quite remember what it feels like to be alive but he imagines it could be something like this. His heart is beating too fast in his chest, and his skin is so sensitized that every movement crests like a wave over him. His fingers clench in frustration, wrists bound together behind his back. His hair is sweaty, falling over his forehead and across his face.

Hundreds of years old, and more powerful than any one being has the right to be, and yet he is completely and utterly undone by the smirking, young wizard who holds him steady with two strong hands against his hips.

Aside from that pressure of his grip and Sam feels as though he would have eight bruises along the small of his back, if he could bruis Colby sits entirely still. His legs are splayed, back leaned heavily into the armchair that's been in his family for several generations.

His brown hair falls over his eyes, which glint blue with inner fire. He tilts his head back, revealing the inviting expanse of his throat, and Sam digs his teeth into his own lips and hisses.

Colby lifts his gaze to look into Sam's eyes, and his smirk grows just a bit wider. "No. Not yet, remember?" He swallows as he says the words, because he knows the movement will only draw Sam's gaze back to his throat and drive him mad.

And Sam is mad, as his fangs peek out from behind perfect, shell-shaped lips as his tongue traces the dangerous point of one pronounced canine. His eyes have gone darker with lust and desire, and touching Colby, straddling his lap as their naked legs press against one another, Sam can smell the heady scent of his blood.

He wants it, so badly. Nothing is ever enough with Colby, no touch no kiss no climax no taste. Everything leaves him wanting so much more.
He yanks at his restraints again and feels the gentle pulse of magic within them, keeping him bound with silk.

This is all one big game to Colby, a funny joke. Let's tie up the vampire with paper-thin cloth and see him sweat. Let's balance him on the precipice of orgasm for impossibly long minutes, and wait to see when he'll break of desperation.

How Colby has this level of control, Sam doesn't know. The other man is buried deep inside of him, as hard and wanting as Sam is. And yet Colby does not move his hips, does not chase his desire as Sam longs too. Instead, he just holds Sam steady in his lap and stares up at the ceiling.

"Don't look at me like that," Colby remarks softly. He hasn't looked back at Sam, but perhaps he feels the force of the other's glare. Colby sighs and trails one hand up Sam's side, his touch too gentle against Francis' sensitive skin. "You agreed to this, remember? And you know how to get what you want."

His cruelty and calculation are impressive, for one so young. He'd learned the rules quickly, back when Sam had murmured them against his skin, and now he uses them to his distinct advantage. In order for vampires to gain the most from their prey, they require permission.

They cannot enter dwellings without invitation. They cannot touch without consent. And if they want the blood they drink to fill them with life with a heartbeat and breath, with sensation in their skin and light in their eyes they must earn the privilege first.

Sam barters pleasure for life's blood, and for a while that was enough for Colby. Tonight through, when Sam had come to him, he had set different parameters. Sam had smiled, indulgent as always. A young wizard testing the limits of his strength, his ability to cast wards with only his voice it had been an amusing thought.

But once again, Sam had forgotten how truly exceptional Colby is.
"You know what to do." Colby leans forward and lets his words ghost over Sam's flushed skin. "Make me come."
The idea of that is alone to set off sparks deep within Sam, through the already coiling desire he had stopped fighting long ago.

He steels himself for a moment, feeling the hot pressure of Colby within him and wishing the other would just move, even a little.
"Mon coeur," he murmurs. "Would it not be easier if I could touch you?"
Colby leans close again, teeth nipping at the line of Sam's jaw. The vampire clenches his teeth and whines, consumed by Colby's scent. His head dips back dangerously, until Colby's hand catches his neck and holds him upright.

"No," Colby returns finally. "That's too easy on you. You're too good at that."
Sam smirks at that, dizzy though he is with desire. He is very good at what he does he remembers, vividly, the night he held Colby against the wall of his bedroom and kissed him for hours, until the wizard was out of breath and sobbing to be touched.

Afterwards, he was languid and affectionate, curled in Sam's lap as the vampire drank deeply from his wrist.
Come to think of it, this might be a subtle sort of revenge, for that.
"Prove to me you're good in other ways," Colby whispers darkly. It's a voice that goes deeper that his usual, it is a voice thick with power, the voice that reminds Sam that he was initially attracted not to those blue eyes or the flush on pale skin, but to the power that thrums in Colby's veins and fills his blood with something indescribably delicious.

And oh, Sam could never dismiss a challenge from this man. Though his legs feel weak and his balance is precarious, he moves as best he can. He spreads himself in stilting increments, taking Colby as deep as he can, before he begins rolling his hips in tantalizing, tight circles around him.

He grins his pleasure when Colby breathes out a hitching sigh, trying to keep his composure and failing. One hand tightens on Sam's hip, and the nails of the other dig into Sam's neck. He doesn't mind that in fact, he enjoys those pricks of pleasure-pain, punctuating the heady blur this night has become.

Sam leans in for a kiss, screwing himself down on Colby's cock, but the other man pulls his face away and denies him that.
"No," he says, breathing labored. "No lips, no tongue, no teeth. Not yet."

"You're wicked," Sam pouts, but he clenches his hands and moves again, guiding Colby to the spot within him that gives him the most pleasure. He clenches around him, moaning his satisfaction, and his rewarded when Colby mirrors the sound at a higher, more desperate pitch.

"You wouldn't," Colby breathes, then groans as Sam moves again, just right. "You wouldn't stick around if I wasn't." His voice is accusatory, even as his eyes go blank for a moment as he's overcome with sensation.
Sam tilts his head and considers that as much as he can consider anything when all he wants his the taste of Colbt on his tongue.

He's wondered for some time, now, how he will keep Colby. He is covetous creature, and too intelligent for his own good. As soon as he'd fallen for Colby he'd known that the wizard would perhaps grow old, and certainly die. For a long time, Sam has tried to find a way to save Colby from that fate, to keep him with Sam forever. He will accept nothing less.

But for the first time he wonders if Colby has the opposite problem if he fears that Sam will move on from him, leave him alone in his dingy home in the English countryside with only the rain and his spell books for company. The thought is laughable, Sam couldn't abandon Colby even if he wanted to.

Content in this new knowledge, Sam relaxes against his bonds and Colby's hold, and moves with languid slowness against the other man. Up, down, left, right, up and down again. He has trained in dance, and music, and desire and love, he can do this without his hands, without his lips, without his tongue or teeth.

"Mon coeur," he whispers, voice is silky and hypnotic. "You do know what it means, when one of my kind says 'forever?'"
Colby's eyes flash open, blue and glowing with magic. He stares at Sam as though he's searching for the truth of his words, and Sam sees the exact moment when his pupils dilate and his body accepts what his mind won't, yet he comes deep inside of Sam, a delayed reaction that leaves him boneless, hands falling away from Sam's body as he hits the back of his chair.

The silk ribbons fall away from Sam's hands, their purpose fulfilled. Sam eases himself off of Colby and presses forward, cradles the other man in his arms as he litters his throat with tiny, biting kisses that have Colby sighing and squirming beneath him. He cages Colby in with his limbs and barely feels it as the other man regains enough of himself to reach for Sam's cock and jack him off with insistent but slow movements.

Sam spills over Colby's hands and their eyes meet, now Colby is the one hazy and soft, and Sam is sharp and cunning.
"Puis-je...?" Sam whispers.
Colby swallows, and then nods his assent.

Sam's lips pull into a wicked smile. He keeps one hand around the back of Colby's neck, holding him steady. Then he leans in and finds a pulse point, kissing the spot with reverence as Colby groans. He can do enough with his lips, but then he begins to lap along the sensitive skin, tongue tracing patterns there.

But then Sam lets his fangs dig into that skin, and the taste of iron fills his mouth and he groans, deep and overcome. He licks along the spot as he drinks from Colby, as the other man's hands come up to brace against his shoulders, fingers digging in against the soft sparks of pain.

Colby's blood is like fire, imbued with magic and passion and made all the sweeter by their complicated agreements and fulfilled promises. Sam counts the moments to a waltz's rhythm in his head one two three, un deux trois, one two three.

He is careful not to take too much, and when he pulls his fangs from Colby's body he licks over the wounds so that no precious blood will be spilt. He leaves Colby sitting upright in the chair and curls around him, legs draped over the arm.

He feels Colby's fingers in his hair, stroking close to his scalp. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, Colby's blood strengthening him and giving him that welcome pulse of artificial life. In his many centuries of existence, he thinks this may be his first moment of true contentment.

"Did you mean that?" Colby asks after several moments, still stroking Sam's hair.
"Of course. I am a man of my word, Sammy." Colby sounds haughty and offended, but Colby will be able to see through that.
"What are you going to do about it, then?"

He tilts his head towards Colby's hand, and is pleased when Colby leans down to press his lips against Sam's . They don't speak for some time, instead focusing on kissing the breath out of one another. Finally Colby pulls away, looking at Sam expectantly.
"I don't know," Sam admits. His hands curl around Colby's wrists, holding on tightly. "Colbs, there's something I must tell you."

It's treason, of course, to discuss the vampire courts' dealings with a mortal, especially one who has the power to interfere. But for a long time now, Sam has known his own heart.
"I'll keep you safe," Sam says, before he even begins to explain. And a promise between them has never gone unfulfilled.