If there was one thing Finas had plenty of, it was time. For centuries he had stalked through the brightest and most brash ages of history, doing everything there was to do, seeing everything there was to see, tasting everything there was to taste (or rather, everybody). And with the passing of time, his appetite for the same rush, the music and obscene decadence of it all waxed and waned like the moon, as - like it is so inclined to do with the increasing of age - his appreciation for simple silence grew. Of course he still loved the thrill of the hunt: of watching some sweet young thing unwittingly courting death, screams of pleasure blurring seamlessly into screams of pain, the hot smear of secondhand blood from lips so desperately clashing with his own...Finas shifted almost imperceptibly in his seat as he firmly cut off that train of thought, denying his ever present hunger. No, tonight was not one of those nights. Tonight he was going to relax - finish the crossword he was doing, enjoy a hot bath (just because he could), perhaps read a book or even watch the last few episodes of his True Blood boxset.

He was going to have a quiet night.

"Fin."

A peaceful night.

"Hey, Finas!"

Of course, he knew he it was all wishful thinking.

"Beardy bastard, don't ignore me!"

Sometime he still liked to pretend, at least for a little while. That is, until fists slammed on the sturdy table he was sitting at, making the tasteful floral centerpiece jump slightly. Finas sighed, slid off his half-moon reading glasses, and pinched the bridge of his crooked nose where they had perched. Setting them lightly on the folded newspaper before him, he looked up pointedly at Casimiro, languishing at the other end of the table. His companion smiled indulgently, like a spoiled child getting its way.

"I'm bored," he sighed petulantly.

Finas, entirely unsurprised, merely quirked a brow. He leaned back in his heavy wooden chair, feeling mildly resentful of the inevitable derailment of his evening's plans, "Why not entertain yourself for a change?"

Casimiro hissed under his breath at the curt tone, twisting restlessly in his seat. They hadn't eaten in a few days and even though they were old enough to go without blood for months if they had to, it was obvious his thirst was burning - bloodlust or hunger, it was hard to tell. It all ended in the same way regardless, and one unholy mess for Finas to clean up the following night. Of course, that paled in comparison to the mess that would happen if he dared suggest Casimiro hunted alone without a steady hand to temper his curse, something which they had learned the hard way more than once. Hoping that his dear companion could hold on for one more evening and determined not to be disturbed any further, Finas returned his attention to his crossword, pushing his glasses back on with a narrowing of his eyes. He pressed the blunt tip of his pen to his pursed lips as he ignored Cas unfolding himself to his feet fluidly. He did not watch out of the corner of his eye as he stalked towards him with rolling hips, and he most certainly did not even notice the long and elegant fingers that trailed lightly over the polished surface of the table before snatching away the newspaper and tossing it effortlessly over one neat shoulder. No, not even a little bit.

Casimiro leaned against the arm of the chair, and gently ran his thumb over Finas's bottom lip: he turned his head away from the entreating digit, a gesture that was met with a light laugh. Dropping his hand, Cas instead picked up an end of the ever present white scarf, twisting the soft material in his fingers as he unwound it slowly to expose a pale and lovely neck. Finas's breath caught in his throat, superfluous and light as strong fingers gripped his jaw, forcing him to meet the uneven half-lidded gaze that studied him with mild interest - more like a plaything than a lover. Roughly, lips caught his own with enough force to coax a reluctant sound from him as a talented tongue persuaded them to part, deepening the kiss. Stubbornly, he pulled away and tried to stand up but Cas found his shoulders and pushed him back down into the chair. With supernatural speed, his wrists were caught and bound tightly to the stiff wooden arms with his beloved scarf.

"Casimiro," he hissed, a little too desperate to be a warning. The reply was a peppering of kisses along his jaw and deft hands sliding beneath his shirt to palm at his chest. He stifled a groan as sharp teeth scraped across his adam's apple, pressing teasingly at his jugular - perhaps less vital than it once was but no less sensitive.

"Problem, Finas?" Cas growled as he ground against his partner's firm thigh, lengthening the vowels in the name and earning himself a sharp look shot from beneath dark brows, "Am I not entertaining myself?"

"I hate you," Finas snapped back childishly, finding it difficult to be eloquent with a knee rubbing accidentally-on-purpose at his crotch and a hot wet tongue lapping at his collarbone.

"Resent me, maybe. Vexed by me, certainly," Casimiro slid off Finas with one last kiss and a sly smile, "But you don't hate me. You wouldn't still be here if you did."

There was no reply this time, only another glower and the phantom of colour rising in Finas's cheeks as he flexed experimentally against his bonds. He gave up after a moment, his shoulders slumping and he resigned to the hope that the whole thing might go quicker if he did not struggle - or at least that's what he told himself earnestly. There was no hiding the interest in his gaze as he attentively watched Casimiro unzip his jacket and throw it of the floor. Next came his black shirt, peeled off like a second skin as he returned to the place he was sitting before and casually kicked the empty chair over. Ignoring the appalled shout, he pulled himself onto the table top, shoulders rolling and back arched as he crawled on his hands and knees towards Finas. With a feline smirk, he swiped the flowers away to join the toppled furniture and ever growing bundle of clothes on the floor until he was only in his pants, kneeling in front of his hostage. Cas twisted so he could sit with his feet planted firmly on the outside of Finas's thighs, and leaned forward as though he meant to kiss his lover again - he stopped short, laughing as the longer haired vamp strained to close those last few inches.

"Casimiro," Finas said flatly for one last attempt, sounding as close to a reprimanding teacher as a tied up, pissed off and moderately aroused vampire could, "Untie me now, I am in no mood for these games tonight."

Ignoring the demand Casimiro pulled back again, propping himself up with one hand so he was lounging quite comfortably, and with his other hand he slowly began stroking feathery circles on his firm flat stomach. He made a small contented noise as the exploring hand became emboldened, moving up his chest to deliberately thumb over the dark brown nub of a nipple before reaching his neck with a touch as soft as a kiss. Finas's eyes were fixated on the long and graceful fingers as they gradually began their journey south again to the waistband of his dark jeans. They traced a polished button, pulled the material taut to reveal the hint of an outline of Cas's own arousal, massaged it gently. Finas turned his head to the side, staring at the hardwood floorboards and biting his lip to the point of pain. His shoulders tensed at the sound of a fly being slowly unzipped, and where his groan was silenced someone else's was not.

"Finas," Casimiro half moaned, and the vampire almost jumped at the sound of his name. The feet nudging his thighs twitched slightly but his head remained turned.

"Look at me, Finas," the voice was low and breathy, smooth like fluttering silk. He tipped his head back to stare at the off-white ceiling instead. Beads of perspiration would have gathered on his brow if they could.

"Look at what you do to me."

There was something about the urgency in that demand that snapped Finas's head down like it had jerked on a piece of string, and this time he could not contain the low desperate noise that pushed past his slack slips. Slow languid strokes with a slight twist of desperation in the wrist, Casimiro was touching himself. His head was tilted back slightly, showing off the elegant sweep of his neck, his mouth was open, quirked at the corners and his eyes were half-lidded and fixed firmly on Finas. His breathing had increased but his movements were unhurried and entirely indulgent.

"This should be you," Cas says with a sweep of a thumb over his head, and Finas hated how calm sounded like this, "This should be you touching me, but you never want to fuck anymore, not like we used to."

"Casimiro..."

"Shut up," and his pleasure warmed features sharpened for a second, "I need this, Finas. I need this like I need to hunt, and if this is all I get, just watch."

And so Finas did. He didn't have a choice, he couldn't look away then even if his fangs depended on it. Casimiro's comment stung like a slap to the face, and he had to bite his lip again to quell the burbling stream of I'm sorry Cas please I'm so sorry just untie me please Cas I need you too Casimiro Casimiro Casimiro that was as urgent and pushy the erection straining against the hated confines of his pants. It was unfairly easy to lose sight of what had pulled him towards Casimiro in the first place as natural as gravity, how beautiful he could be, how sharp and clever and needy and cruel. Oh yes it was easy to feel like the parent of a tearaway brat, to be frustrated and trapped, like a chore sometimes, but Finas knew those feelings disappeared so easily. He just needed to be reminded every now and again, and the old heat rose to the surface as fresh and raw and terrifyingly huge as they had been from the beginning, the constant anchor through the light-speed decades.

He felt one part guilt and two parts lust as Casimiro kicked off his jeans entirely, reclining of the table with his hips jutting off the surface as they pistoned in time with his unshakable fist. He looked like a streak of gold against the dark mahogany wood, all fluid and graceful lines, or maybe a dancer or a sacrifice on some exotic altar as he lifted his strong legs to push himself up further. A glistening bead of precum gathered at the tip of his cock and was quickly wiped away and kissed from his thumb. For a distraught moment, he thought he might be left behind and evidently Cas heard his slight distressed noise or perhaps saw him jerk against the scarf because he sat up suddenly and leaned into Finas. Fingers pressed against his lips and he sucked them down before even getting the command, lavishing the sensitive pads with his tongue and even allowing himself a small moan. He could taste the faintest hint of salty-sweetness but before he could savour it the fingers were gone as Casimiro suddenly moved away. He pushed back from Finas and twisted around so he was on his hands and knees, smirking over his shoulder at his partner who might have complained had it not been the perfect view. As the saliva slick fingers reached back between long lean thighs Finas knew what would happen next, but could still hardly believe his eyes.

The noise Casimiro made as he pushed his fingers into himself was so obscene it would have made Finas weak in the knees, had he not been tied down. He could hardly bare to watch but at the same time he was stuck, staring hungrily, and he knew that was exactly what Cas wanted. He was clearly getting off on having an audience, with his theatrical moans that would have put any two-bit whore to shame and over-the-shoulder smirks as he rocked back onto his hand. He was trying to take his time, to really draw it out and torture Finas for as long as possible but his impatience was beginning to get the better of him and with every passing moment his pace was becoming more and more urgent and with increasing desperation Finas tried to match his pace, his hips twitching as he tried to gain any sort of relief but the friction of his own pants. As the darker vampire brought himself closer to the edge, he couldn't help his partner's name from escaping him in a hiss with every jerk - over and over like a prayer or a mantra until his body seized, taught as a whip, and he came all over his hand and the table top.

There was a long moment as Casimiro composed himself again, cracking his back and stretching with a contented sigh. He licked the mess from his fingers carefully before swiping up the rapidly cooling liquid from the table and offering his hand to Finas. He grimaced, tried to jerk his head away and so Cas merely smeared the cum across his cheek and lips, smirking at the globules that clung to his facial hair.

"Casimiro," Finas said, his voice cracking. He flexed his fingers, trying to stop the tremors, "Cas, please-"

Casimiro looked up from the bundle of clothes he was gathering. He stepped into his jeans - underwearless, of course - and cocked an eyebrow as he zipped them up, "Please what?"

Finas looked like he was going to explode, or choke on his tongue or maybe both, "Untie me. I need to - please untie me."

"I'm hungry. The bars should be closing soon," he replied placidly, but his slowly spreading grin edged Finas's frustration with panic. He began to struggle against the bonds as he could guess what was coming next, "Why don't you entertain yourself for a change?"

Later, as he stepped out into the cold crisp early morning air, fully dressed and feeling fresh, Casimiro swore he could still hear him howling.