Eric loved Godric, had done so right from the beginning. How could he not, Godric had given him a new life, more strength, a future he never could have dreamt of. So yes, he loved his maker from the first day - or rather night - they had spent together.
It took him some time to get used to his touches, the sex. He had never imagined that such a thing would be possible between two men, that it might be pleasurable. But Godric had been patient, had never forced him into anything, and after a while he had enjoyed the touches, the kisses - and eventually the sex.
What he liked most, back then and now, were the kisses, though. Not that he'd ever tell anyone but Godric.
There were the soft, almost parental kisses on his forehead or his cheek. Just a brush of lips, but they meant so much, made him feel loved, safe. They didn't have any purpose, never led to anything more. And that's what made them so special. Godric didn't kiss him like that because he wanted something, but because he loved him and wanted to show it.
Then there were the slow kisses, lips soft and pliant. These kisses spoke of their love too, not as parent and child, but as lovers, as equals. Sometimes they happened right before they had to sleep for the day, when Eric could already feel that he had gotten tired, that the sun was coming up. He lay there with Godric, legs tangled, an arm thrown around Godric's waist and their lips met in a slow kiss before they drifted to sleep. And they kissed like that after sex, lazy kisses, just for the sake of kissing, of feeling the other close to you.
And then there were the times when those slow kisses led to more, got hungrier, tongues tangled. Eric could feel himself getting aroused when he just thought of it, of Godric's body pressed against his, of one of them taking the lead. Hands would wander, touch, tangle in hair. Lips, tongues would meet, more and more urgent. Clothes got in the way, were removed. Skin on skin, so much better.
Lips trailing down a neck, over a body, sucking, licking on the way. Not just kisses anymore, they served a purpose, were meant to arouse. Foreplay or part of their sex, it didn't matter. The kisses got more intense, more heated.
Teeth, first blunt, human teeth, then fangs came into play, nipping, then slicing through flesh. When they kissed like this, cut their lips and tongues, their blood mingled and they greedily swallowed it down. It intensified the kisses even more, made them both moan.
It didn't matter what the rest of their bodies did, who was on top, or if they just rubbed against each other. Their kisses were a sign of how far they were lost in each other. Once they had tasted blood - their own, the other's, both - it wouldn't take long any more. The time for kisses was over, they would bite, drink, come.
And then they were back to slow, lazy kisses. Eric cherished those moments with Godric, when they were tired, sated and could just be there, hold each other and share those loving kisses. Sometimes they'd talk, but most of the time they didn't need words, just being there was enough.