Vlad had been 'practicing' for closer to a century and a half. Though possibly not as rigorously as Thomas. But the other thing a century and a half had given him, that had already been sorely tested this evening under rigorous standards, was self-control.

The sky was nearly blue, birds were singing their fool heads off, and the hand pulling his hair sent fire right to those nerves Thomas seemed to enjoy touching.

No. Sky. Pay attention to sky. There were plenty of tables in the house.

Another strangled gargle and thrusting up into Thomas' hand later, Vlad managed "Inside." It was much harder to extricate his hand from Thomas' pants than it rightfully should be, and there was that twinge inside that side the sun was coming up. With extreme effort, Vlad pulled away, yanking Thomas with him by the wrist.

The kitchen door was closer, and the room now mercifully empty. Slamming the door behind them, Vlad pressed Thomas against the glass door. His hands reached, one to thread through his hair and the other to slip back between layers of cloth and wrap tight around sensitive skin. He went to kiss Thomas, taste him and bite, but at the last second he saw them again and, reminded of the other man's injury, pulled his head back to trail kisses down his neck.

Conversation was overrated.