It was a funny game they played, a dance. One step, two step, twirl. There was a certain pattern, a rhythm by which it happened. It was a weave of playing for power. There was no clear submissive or dominant personality - sex was as much a fight for the top as any of their interactions. But still it was always part of the pattern, a predictable time table of events.
It would always start like this. The frantic kissing and groping. Conrad desperately hungry for the blood, while still wanting something more. Worth just enjoying the chance to fuck with him.
Slowly Conrad's assertiveness would start to subdue as Worth found a way to pin him down. Pressed against the wall, shoved in a chair, back against the mattress. Whatever worked for that day. Worth toyed with him, holding him down with his wrists back, dropping his neck tantalizingly close where he could smell the fresh blood pumping through his flesh. Out through the arteries, then coursing back to the heart through his veins. Bah-dump. Bah-dump. The motions were always slow at this point in time, teasing, torturing. Doc Worth clearly in control as the advances become more sexual in nature, hands moving from the arms and shoulders to the chest, stomach, groin.
When the clothes started to come off Conrad was either nervously shy or the adventurous instigator. It depended on the day, who was top of the food chain, who was winning the most arguments that day. The fight for control resumed, Worth usually using his larger size for an advantage and coming in the lead.
Until Conrad got down to business. The first blood drawn signified a change in tides. Conrad held the power over Worth, the ability to make him squirm and writhe with his own personal cocktail of pain and mirth, born from Worth's masochistic habit of cuts and slices. The gasps of pain would be mixed with breathless gasps for air as their sexual arousal continued to peak.
Then Conrad would bite - a main artery somewhere, the neck, the wrist, the thigh, - and Doc Worth would be completely under his control. He would moan and whimper, the sensation of the life being literally sucked out of him part of Worth's own personal high. Conrad would be feeling the alert superiority of the predator feasting on their prey, completely caught up in the feeling of being one-hundred percent vampire.
They would rise together, both searching for their ultimate climax.
It was a dance, one step, two step, twirl and spin. A practiced ritual by which they subconsciously lived by. Neither realizing quite how in tune to each other's wants and needs they really were, hiding beneath the constant struggle for power.