Getting as good as he gave was perhaps one of Thomas' favorite things. It explained... pretty much everyone he slept with. So when Vlad responded in kind it was met with a warm laugh and Thomas sent a fine jolt of desire skittering down Vlad's spine. "Does it really matter as long as she's screaming my name?" he asked, arching up into Vlad's touch.

His free hand traced its way back down the other man's chest, slow and determined, hooking into the waistband of Vlad's pants with a sharp, teasing tug. Vlad's hand brushed against him, even through the denim, and Thomas hissed in pleased surprise.

Alice was, as they both knew, amazingly fun, but for the past two weeks there had always been guilt and responsibility hanging over his head. Vlad, on the other hand, let things go after a question, and perfectly happy to drink and Not Talk About Things. If Thomas had ever needed a drink-and-fuck buddy, it was right now. And he suspected the same was true for Vlad.

The hand that had been curled into Vlad's hair tightened its grip, fingernails biting into the back of the man's neck, when Thomas hissed at his touch, and Thomas responded in kind, ignoring the still buttoned waistband for now to lavish light, precise touches over clothed flesh.