Maybe a century or so of practice did help, because whatever Vlad was doing was not just matching his pace, because Thomas was aching into that hand with far more noise than usual. He did, however, have the presence of mind to keep moving his hand, running the pad of his thumb over already receptive nerves and letting the Hunger play over all those unspooling threads of desire. Everything felt so good but just wasn't quite enough, and the thought came to Thomas that bending the man over the table was an excellent idea.

He had been on the verge of suggesting just that when Vlad managed to make two coherent words come out of his mouth, and Thomas slowed the rhythm of his hand. He managed a breathless laugh, the fingers that had been tangled in Vlad's hair tightening.

"'We should' what? Stop?" The laugh grew throaty and low, the very hint of a growl edging into his voice. "Or I could bend you over the table. Table might not survive."