emptynight | This is the night that never ends...

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This is the night that never ends...

A few minutes of quiet and the scent of gunpowder managed to do what all the interminable talking had not: clear Thomas' mind to the point where he could actually stand being in his own head. Still, just because he wasn't in danger of hurling insults or spewing his guts didn't mean he wanted to see any of the housemates who had been informed of his departure. Not just yet, at least. After a good day's sleep, he'd be more sociable.

So Thomas bribed one of the grips to sneak into the kitchen where Isaac was holding court with something that smelled amazing and bring back a bottle of every kind of liquor in the bar. Thomas contented himself with sitting on the patio, a bottle of bourbon at his elbow, as he took the Desert Eagle apart and began wiping down the interior.

((Tag Vlad))

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The speed and efficiency with which Vlad hauled him inside would have made Thomas laugh if he had been able to catch his breath before the man pressed him against the glass door, hand threading through his hair and lips trailing kisses down his throat. Thomas growled in frustration, rocking to the delicious rhythm Vlad set that just wasn't enough, and his hands reached for Vlad's hips, pulling pants and boxers down in one frenzied motion.

"Counter. Now." Thomas growled through gritted teeth, fingers digging into the other man's hips as he took the three steps towards the closest kitchen counter. It took only a matter of seconds to get the other man onto said counter. And once he had him there, Thomas' desperate movements slowed again, an infuriating smirk on his lips as his fingers drifting over hips and heated flesh, one hand stroking surely while the other undid the buttons to Vlad's shirt.

Oh that was entirely unfair.

Vlad's pants were in a heap on the kitchen floor, and Thomas was making him squirm, gasping, while he finished undressing him entirely. For the moment, Vlad was unable to do anything but brace himself against the back of the counter and arch up shamelessly into the heated touch, a low moan escaping his mouth for every stroke.

When the shirt was unbuttoned, Vlad shrugged it off his shoulders and down around his wrists, opening his eyes to look up at the unfairly-clothed man with his irritating smirk who was tormenting him with strokes moving far too slowly. He tried to articulate, say something, even if it was to beg for more - but all he managed was a strangled version of Thomas' name.

If he had been in a more demanding, hungrier sort of mood, there would have been growled commands and enough fleeting touches to drive a saint mad. As it is, Thomas merely chuckled, warm and low in his throat, as he shrugged out of his own shirt. There was too much heat and frenzied want in the air for him to think clearly, and Thomas pulled the other man to him, crushing Vlad's lips in a demanding kiss. Still raw nerves and too-sensitive skin sent jolts of pain and pleasure through him, driving his own desires higher while the Hunger danced, light velvet feet on humming strings of need.

A gasp that might have been Vlad's name, might have been just a needy groan, passed his lips, but it was hard to tell what it had been.

Thomas broke the kiss with no small regret, hands forcing the other man's hips high, as he buried himself deeply with a strangled groan. He stilled for a second, fingers digging into Vlad's hips as he fought for control, to not fall over the edge right then and there. When that control came, he moved slowly, thrusting in time with the rhythm his own hand set on Vlad's eager, heated flesh.

Vlad didn't often sleep with men. Not that he had a problem with it- the opportunity just seemed to come up less. Still less often did he bottom.

And he'd never found anyone who could make him squirm like Thomas did.

Anyone else, he would have been trying to press close, pull open that shirt, taste his skin and maybe bite into him - but the want was too strong, too much of a frenzy, for Vlad to do much but twist and moan, like a boy at his first time.

Fingernails scratched down the kitchen cupboards. Hips pressed upward - Vlad was already crying out, trying to urge Thomas' teasing faster, harder. Throwing back his head, denting the wooden cupboard doors, Vlad groaned slowly, pressing his hips up into Thomas' hand. "Please." It was a tortured word, laced with want. It was also more moan than actual speech.

Contrary to popular belief, there really was only so much teasing Thomas could take (or give) over a sustained period of time, and Vlad's pleading moan was more than enough. "Well, since you asked so nicely." Though to have called that a statement was to be generous with the collections of gasps and groans that left Thomas' mouth.

His hand tightened on Vlad, all firm pressure and quickening strokes as his hips rocked in kind. The muscles in his abdomen tightened, clenched in anticipation, and Thomas let the Hunger go, let the humming notes of need and desire shatter in a cascade. Release came in a rush of heat, and it was the only thing Thomas could do to keep his hand moving, driving Vlad over the edge as surely as he could manage even as his own knees threatened to buckle beneath his weight.

Vlad shouted, his chest arching, even as Thomas pressed deep, that hand touching him in all the right places, and release crashed down around him. He was still moving, arching his hips, until the cries faded to low moans and his arms - and the legs that had at some point wrapped around Thomas' waist - felt like wet noodles.

Sighing, his head fell back weakly into the dent in the cupboards his head had made earlier. Several seconds were just taken up with breathing. Then, eyes still closed, his head slowly began to shake, a smile on his face. "I am naked in your kitchen." This seemed like a rather important phenomenon. "My sister could walk in at any moment. Or worse - Edward."

"Your sister would run away screaming," Thomas answered, a lazy grin spreading as he slung his own pants back over his hips. "At least, that was my reaction walking in on my sister. At least I suspect it would be, if it actually happened, I've repressed it."

On wobbling legs, Thomas managed to make it back over to the pile of Vlad's clothes and tossed the man his boxers. "Edward would probably gape and then burrow himself into the floor." The pants and shirt he kept in his hands, as he all but collapsed into a chair. Thomas' voice remained light, joking and inscrutable. "Does it matter anyway? Sibling trauma aside, that is."

"Hmm. You're right; about Lacci at least." He smirked, managing to stand and shimmy into his boxers. "Well, it's usually more of a disgusted string of swears, actually. And no. I suppose it doesn't." He grinned easily, content to lounge back against the counter for now, letting it take most of his weight.

Vlad's eyes drifted to his pants, calculatng whether he'd make it or not. He wouldn't risk it for now. Instead he turned back to Thomas, the grin widening into a smirk. "Would it be horrifically sentimental to say that I missed you?"

The smirk was greeted with its twin and Thomas laughed again. "Only if you said it to anyone else. Luckily for you, I'm far too much of a cad to take it as anything more than my due." The statement was punctuated with a brief polish of Thomas' fingers against his chest.

The pants got tossed back to Vlad after a moment, and Thomas added with a grin, "It's good to see you again. You're a breath of fresh air compared to this screaming lot."

Vlad caught the pants automatically, and his smirk slipped a notch. "Well. It's not everyday I get a compliment like that." His tone was just as flippant as it had been, but he took a moment, redressing, to not look at his companion.

Repantsed, Vlad picking up his shirt from the counter and shrugged it on, though he didn't button it quite yet. "I don't know about you, but I'm in the mood for coffee." He arched an eyebrow at Thomas as he moved toward the pot. "Want me to pour you a cup?"

The simple question was given perhaps far more thought than necessary. On one hand, he was exhausted and hadn't slept in days. On the other, he was finally starting to feel normal and the prospect of that being ripped from him by nightmares was completely unappealing.

"Just half of one. Otherwise Alice will spit nails at me for not sleeping." If he filled the cup the rest of the way with whiskey, he'd end up in a stupor. Right?

A cup and a half of coffee in hand, Vlad snagged a bottle of whiskey on the way to the table. "She does seem the type." His tone was amused but fond. "But maybe I'll luck out, and she'll be too busy scolding you to notice that I'm awake as well." He set the half-empty mug in front of Thomas as he settled, and spiked his own coffee liberally. "Want some? It's the only way to drink it."

"Oh no, if you're not sleeping either, I'm sending her after you," Thomas protested half-jokingly. "I've gotten the Alice Cullen treatment for two weeks, it's time someone else enjoyed the privilege."

He raised a surprised eyebrow at the offer of whiskey, but accepted without question, true to his word filling the mug the rest of the way with alcohol. Settling back in his chair, Thomas brought the cup to his mouth and sipped carefully. "If you really want to stay awake, you should send one of the crew out for a few shots of espresso," he said mildly.

Sipping his coffee, and speaking as if they were talking about the morning paper, Thomas continued, "If you start raving, should I just clock you in the back of the head and toss you into a closet to sleep it off?" There was no question in there about why it would happen, or whether he'd tell Lacci, just an offer of assistance if it did. The Desert Eagle that had returned to the small of Thomas' back, and the memory of Lacci's own flirtation with coffee, were more than enough qualifications for such, as far as Thomas was concerned.

"Espresso, right. I'll keep that in mind." The question seemed a little... out of nowhere, and Vlad raised an eyebrow. "I don't think it'll be a problem." If he could just survive their first attempt, he might be too much of a nuisance and they'd settle down to wait. It shouldn't take long. "I promise to sleep before I start raving." Hallucinating was so unattractive.

"But... thanks? For the offer?" He was trying to be helpful. Probably.

Vlad's response was unexpected, to say the least. Hadn't he been watching? Seen Lacci's descent into caffeine fueled madness? Maybe not. Thomas sipped again, letting bitter coffee and the burn of whiskey linger on his tongue. "Just trying to figure out what's genetic and what's not," he said, answering the unspoken but obvious question. "Since your sister didn't take too well to the whole coffee-to-stay-awake thing, I figured contingency plans might be helpful."

The mug was halfway to his mouth at this curious pronouncement. Vlad paused, staring at him carefully, then set the mug back down.

Lacci used coffee to stay awake? When? Why? Did it have anything to do with her new Cullen-inspired eyes? Whatever had happened, she hadn't 'taken too well' to it. Had someone knocked her out and thrown her into a closet?

It was starting to become clear to him, why they'd taken away his television.

Vlad tried to sound calm, but he couldn't help a slightly narrowing of his eyes. Not necessarily at Thomas. "What happened." It wasn't a question.

Meeting Vlad's eye, Thomas sipped the coffee and whiskey again, slowly, before he set the mug back on the table. So he didn't know. And the way Vlad was looking, with protective anger rising beneath the surface, made Thomas suspect the reason he didn't know wasn't because he had stopped watching because he was tired of seeing his sister naked on television (thanks Harry).

"Almost a month, no wait..." It took a few minutes for Thomas to remember that he had been the one on a weird time. And then he realized Vlad might not have been on the same time schedule as the house during that time (even though Chicago and Forks had both been). Thomas sighed in irritation, giving up. "A while back, something freaked out Lacci. A lot." He held up a hand to stay any demands.

"The lawyers... I don't know what they did, exactly, but she was gone for days. We didn't know it. It seemed perfectly normal to all of us that she was gone. That we knew she would be and it was alright. But she came back, and as soon as we saw her, whatever they had done went away. I'm not the wizard, I don't know how it happened. I just know the signs of having been fucked over."

Thomas took another sip from his coffee mug. "She didn't sleep for days, thinking they would come for her again." A hint of anger, not at Vlad but at the memory of another man, crept into Thomas' voice. "We did what we could, to get her to sleep. But you know how stubborn she is. She ended up screaming bloody murder at the mirror one night."

It wasn't long into the story before Vlad's faced smoothed into an expressionless mask. It remained that way until several long seconds after the story was finished. For Thomas though, the man was a horrible mess of migraine-inducing emotions. Hate and rage were the main themes. But through that, streaks of protectiveness, hurt, and a hint of guilt wove their way.

After that silence, everything Vlad was feeling condensed down into one single, bright point, and he snarled. Mug in hand, he pushed back from the table, stood and turned in one motion, and hurled the cup at the wall. The plaster itself received a dent; the glass shattered, and a puddle of ceramic shards tinkled to the floor.

He stood there for a moment, staring at the place it had hit, his hands clenched tightly into fists. The snarl still lurked on his face, and Vlad's eyes were a little glazed. If anyone had asked - though he probably couldn't speak - he would have told them that he was fighting to stay in that kitchen, and not try and take off into the burning light of day to find the lawyers responsible and kill them very slowly.

The crash of the mug against the wall didn't surpise Thomas though it made the camera crew jump. The building hurricane of rage and hate had been enough to warn him. Thomas let the seconds tick by in silence, counting them down until enough time had passed that the burn of righteous fury burned a little less bright against the Hunger.

When he did speak, it was mild and carefully devoid of emotion, more of a warning for the other man instead of actual detachment. 'Be careful of what you say.' "I guess that's why you're really here."

Vlad closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath that didn't help in the slightest. When he opened them again, he turned slowly to look back at his companion. His eyes weren't quite back to normal, and his smile was utterly humorless and bitter. "It wasn't. But that's why they were really trying to keep me out." His gaze was already moving on, to the doorway, and when he spoke again, it was quiet murmur. "Excuse me, Thomas." He strode out without another word.

Vlad needed to calm down. He needed to pace his room until he wore a track in the carpet. He had no idea if or when Alice might seek him out, but if she saw him like this, she'd ask awkward questions.

Also Edward may or may not get punched from keeping that from him. Not that it would hurt the boy. But it would make Vlad feel better.

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