Disclaimer: I do not own True Blood.
A/N: A little Russell/Talbot to light up your Fourth of July weekend.
"No," Talbot snapped. Situated on the armrest of the recreation room couch, he narrowed his dark eyes at his maker. He threw one leg over his other leg with an almost imperceptible, irritated huff. "No, no, no. I told you I wanted no guests until at least," Talbot continued, smoothing his hands in front of his body in the air, bringing them to rest on his thigh, "that pagan holiday now commercialized..." He snapped his fingers in desperate recall.
Russell Edgington, reclined on the couch below his progeny, swiped the cigar he was smoking from his mouth. "You mean Christmas?" When Talbot rolled his eyes and nodded, he replied, "Why, that's ridiculous my dear. First, we don't celebrate Christmas; second, we are social creatures no matter what hullaballoo the human race claims." Russell took a drag, patted Talbot's knee. "You can't expect to cut us off from the world just because you have a propensity for relaxing. All I asked was whether or not there should be balloons at our Independence Day get-together. I wasn't asking whether or not you found the get-together convenient."
Talbot jumped to his feet, shoved his hands on his hips. He was in fine form for an angry, vampiric partner. Though many men and women could manage the stance, no being performed it better than Talbot. Even his fangs were a little extended. "Before I answer your petty balloon question, let me ask you: Is this new attitude of yours here for the season or here to stay? Please, indulge me, because the last time I checked, my opinion mattered in our trivial decisions."
"Of course I considered your opinion, my dear," Russell said with a smile. "I just didn't like what I heard so I vetoed your vote. Everyone I spoke to under my roof agrees that our arranging a get-together would be spectacular. I mean, the last one we threw in '89 went well." He extended his open palms to his progeny, expecting the curly haired cherub to give in. "Don't be mad, Talbot. You and I both know once the decorations start going up, you will be claiming the entire thing was your idea."
His progeny looked away, snubbed his maker's attempt at handholding. "You have called me lazy and selfish in less than five minutes." He sashayed toward the recreation room doors, floor to ceiling boards of dark mahogany. Talbot wouldn't be Talbot, had he not been able to read between the lines in conversation. A hand on one of the two rustic, golden door handles, he glanced back. "Have your little party. Do whatever you like. Excuse me for forgetting my place, which is obviously and undeniably beneath you, Russell. Have red, blue, white balloons, stars and stripes, eagles. God," he said the word loosely, "only knows you're in the perfect location for an Independence Day party..."
Russell suppressed a smirk. Yes, he already knew of his perfect location, as the vampire king of Mississippi.
"Being in Mississippi, an all-American hoedown in itself."
"Now I know for a fact," Russell said as he waved the cigar, "from a very foul-smelling man down at the vamp bar, that Mississippi was one of the original thirteen colonies." He actually hadn't expected the answer his progeny gave. He assumed Talbot had meant his position as king.
Talbot swung open the room door. He pursed his lips before saying curtly, as if he hated himself for being truthful, "You think what you will, Russell. Just allow me to give your highness food for thought. I personally know for a fact that Mississippi wasn't one of the original colonies." He straightened his shoulders and took an unnecessary breath, since he didn't need to breathe. "Now, I am going to ground. Good day."
Russell slammed the door closed before Talbot had taken a single step outside it. The thick board closed several centimeters from the tip of the younger vampire's nose. The older vampire leaned against it, sliding his pallid palms along the wood, as if he hadn't just committed an aggravated action toward another vampire. "Talbot," he tried his best to purr, "do come sit back down on the couch, my dear. Sunrise is an hour away. I realize the human race glorifies the copious amount of sleep the dead have. But you by no means need to listen to them." With an imperceptible movement, he grasped both of Talbot's hands in his. Their cold flesh met like four ice cubes - sticky and hard. "Come, come my dear."
Talbot used all his strength to resist the tug of his maker. He jerked back like an agitated dog on a leash, though Russell continued to hold him. His fangs had extended until they hurt. "No," he said, "I am teaching you a lesson by not giving in. Now Russell, I ask that you release me and allow me to go to ground without so much as a kiss on the cheek. You can take your sexual intercourse, fold it in a triangle, and shove it."
"Whoa, whoa," Russell said, putting his palms up, releasing Talbot. "Who said anything about intercourse? If I remember correctly, you and I were talking about a wholesome American holiday. Why the sudden change in topic? Though your fangs pretty much speak for you." He dropped to his knees before his progeny and stared up through a forest of short lashes. "Not that I mind getting ready for Independence Day by getting a tad striped, or a tad blue...and black." His own fangs slid partway out.
Talbot looked left, not wanting to meet his maker's gaze. He closed his previously parted lips in an attempt to hide his arousal. His closed lips bulged ever so slightly. After almost seven hundred years of arguing and make-up sex, his body felt nearly programed to receive some kind of sexual reconciliation. "Oh, come on Russell," Talbot lied through his teeth, "even a human could tell you want it right now. Look at yourself."
The vampire king of Mississippi made a conscious effort to do so. He shrugged and grinned, showing his progeny his very fangless mouth. "Sure your eyesight isn't going, my dear?" He chided while unbuttoning Talbots pants. "Because by the look of your Hanes, you have more desire than a virgin in the throes of lust at the moment. What is it the humans sometimes say to verbal defeat? Ah yes, touché."
His progeny slapped his hands away, an action awkward enough to stun him. In less than a second, as the stunned sensation came and went, his Grecian prince fled further into the recreation room. Rather than return to the couch and follow Russell's proposal, Talbot stood behind the stuffed seat. Russell appeared in front of him at once with fangs exposed entirely. A fire crackled and popped in the nearby hearth, casting warm shadows around the room. The cigar wasted away in the ashtray which sat on the coffee table next to the couch. For a moment, neither moved, allowing the crackling and popping to fill the space between them. Then Russell dodged left, then right like a teenager does in tag, equally stunning Talbot. Russell was no teenager, and their sudden lustful aggravation was no game of tag.
"I am not playing," Talbot did his best to growl. "I am not enabling you."
Russell finally dodged to his right with inhuman speed. He appeared beside Talbot briefly, before his progeny moved with the same inhuman speed, reappearing near the hearth. "Then quit," the vampire king snarled, "running away from me." He paused and composed himself, even tucking a lock of hair back into place. He continued in a low voice, each one of his words like a bullet. "As your maker, I command that you sit your ass back down on this couch."
"Bastard," Talbot spat as his body seemed to move of its own will toward the couch. His maker hardly used the commands in his power, except in dire situations. This was the first time he had ever used a command in the privacy of their home, on casual ground. Talbot stuck to the couch like a second upholstery. His eyebrows were furrowed, his mouth was set in a thin line, his arms were crossed, but he was situated on the stuffed seat. He would never admit the command had somewhat excited him, especially not to a vampire as powerful and devious as his Russell.
"Talbot," Russell said as he knelt between his progeny's legs. He placed his hands, with either great control or caution, on Talbot's inner thighs. "Don't go sour on me." The vampire king continued the job before him, spindly fingers nimble at unbuttoning. "You know..." His eyes widened for a split second while he took in Talbot's hardened length, freed from briefs and pants. "That I, Russell Edgington, kneel for no one."
"Except me."
"Except you whenever I am extremely wasted or extremely horny. Guess which I am now."
"Hmm, what a challenge," Talbot said bitterly. "Let me think."
"Oh, my dear," Russell replied, "if you think trying to think as I hover over your dick is challenge, I am sorry."
Instead of opening his mouth to speak like he meant to, Talbot gave a groan. Russell had taken his entire length into his cool, slick mouth. He sucked and sucked, wound his tongue around and around without a second thought. Pace wasn't something he considered. They were vampires after all - should they want to prolong the moment, they could just have sex again. Maybe beat the record they set: Twenty-seven times. Talbot weaved his fingers through Russell's red hair, drawing blood with his fingernails. His maker paused and touched the injury with the tips of his own fingers. He then stuck his blood-coated digits into his progeny's mouth. Talbot sucked Russell's fingers as hard as Russell sucked Talbot's length. Now it was Russell who groaned.
"Bastard," Talbot spat again, less angered, more impassioned. "At least let me have a try."
"Ah, ah, ah," Russell scolded like a parent scolding a child. "Not until you come first, subordinate."
"Don't call me subordinate." Talbot threw his head back. He could feel Russell's fangs grace the sensitive skin of his genital. "You know how much I hate that term."
"Then come, subordinate," Russell said. He took his fingers away from Talbot for good, running the damp digits down Talbot's chest. He was strangely thankful for bathrobes, as they allowed him what he liked to call 'easy access.' Russell watched his progeny's face tense as he fingers slipped lower and lower. Soon, he stroked the smooth stretch of skin between Talbot's length and anus. Perineum, Glamour magazine called it. Not that Russell gave a fuck about what the area was called, so long as stroking it caused his progeny to arch his back in pleasure.
"Fuck," Talbot breathed. He spread his legs further apart weakly. A little more stroking at the right angle - his nerves were on end - and he would tumble. As if Russell could read his mind, he changed the position of his fingers and brushed them against Talbot's clenched anus every so often. "Fuck, give me more," Talbot cried while he came, attempting to grind against Russell's fingers the best he could without smashing them. The regenerative power of vampires was the farthest from his mind. The sensation washing over him was the first.
"More what?" Russell egged him on, suddenly stopping his blissful ministrations. "Hey, that reminds me - you still haven't answered my question."
Talbot sat up in agony. "Question?"
"Extremely wasted or extremely horny?"
"Dear God," Talbot huffed. The sensations from his orgasm were lessening, dissipating. "I don't care. Just give me more."
"Not until you answer."
"Horny, extremely fucking horny," Talbot growled.
Russell picked up his ministrations and watched his progeny attempt to ride out the tail of his orgasm. His sexual euphoria didn't last much longer. Talbot reclined on the couch, arms spread across the top, basking in the aftermath. Russell got to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked down at his progeny, proud. His silken robe was undone around his shoulders and chest. His spent length rested against the open his silken pants. The vampire king of Mississippi licked his lips; even when he had been alive, Talbot had tasted of tangerines. He was simply sweet, through and through.
Talbot stared at Russell, his rich eyes glassy. "My turn." It wasn't a question, it was a demand.
"If you wish to pleasure me, you will allow me to fuck you." A smirk spread over Russell's lips. He motioned to his crotch, where his hardened length strained against his trousers. "If you wish to pleasure me, you will turn around, hold the back of the couch, and allow me to fuck you." He raised his eyebrows, silently asking his progeny if his explanation was understood.
Talbot hunched over in disappointment before he perked up and did as he had been told. He shivered when he felt Russell push the bottom of his robe away from his backside and pull his pants down. His maker smacked his backside with the ridiculous strength of a vampire. A red welt formed on one cheek, then disappeared in less than a second. Russell did it again and again, relishing the redness he was able to bring out. Talbot started to tremble beneath his maker. His length had gone hard again from all the spanking. A human would have a better chance spanking a statue than a vampire. But Russell didn't even flinch at the contact.
"Are you going to fuck me or not?"
"Impatient, aren't we?"
"Can't blame -"
Russell thrust into Talbot. Both vampires raised their heads and moaned. Talbot was tight as always, as he would be forever. Russell had found that sweet spot without any searching, as always. Hundreds of years makes one extremely good at sex, especially when that one has been with the same partner throughout those years. Talbot went to move forward, but found that he couldn't because Russell gripped his balls. He whimpered instead, speech having evaded him.
The vampire king of Mississippi began to thrust with such strength and speed, the couch began to rock and move.
He bent over, placed his chin on Talbot's shoulder, kissed his neck. The younger vampire had bent over too, and now his forehead rested against the top of the stuffed seat. Russell kept hitting that sweet spot inside Talbot. The older vampire gripped his progeny's hip with his other hand; drew enough blood to cause it to trickle down his progeny's leg. Though the smell of the ruby red liquid could have been tempting, neither vampire acknowledged it. Russell even bit Talbot's neck, producing a hiss from him, but didn't drink. Within minutes, the younger vampire healed. Though the human race believes feeding and sex are synonymous to vampires, not every vampire who feeds has sex, and not every vampire who has sex feeds. The king of Mississippi and his progeny had drunk from one another many times. Maybe that was why neither were enthralled by each other's blood.
"Talbot, move," Russell demanded, eyes closed, lips parted. He grabbed the younger vampire's hair when he didn't respond. "Talbot, move now."
His progeny moved with desperation, as if his existence depended upon coming. He soon matched Russell's rhythm and soon the entire room was filled with their groans and moans. The vampire king rode his progeny like he would his horse - rough, single destination in mind. Every so often, their primal sounds fell in sync. Russell released Talbot's hair to wrap his arm around Talbot's neck in something of a headlock. He choked his progeny, delighted that unlike the human race, his progeny wouldn't pass out. Rather, Talbot leaned his cheek against Russell's arm.
"Shit," Russell suddenly swore. "Fuck shit, motherfucker."
Talbot could only assume his maker was no where near where he wanted to be. Sure enough, Russell changed his angle of thrust. The new angle fell flat and the vampire king spat out several other swear words. When he paused to catch his breath, having had no luck in coming, Talbot overpowered him.
They switched positions, the younger vampire now on his back, the older vampire still above him. Russell growled, protested, but Talbot ignored him. He wrapped his legs around his maker's hips and held him close. They started thrusting, pressing against one another, creating as much friction as they could. Hands were sprawled on the couch. Their housekeepers wouldn't know what to make of the shredded material in the morning. Their new rhythm was faster than the first, but with intentional movements, movements meant to go deep. Talbot clutched Russell's shoulders, stuffing from the couch under his nails.
Russell came, eyes rolled back, eyelids fluttering. A wolfish grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as his release released itself in waves.
Talbot came shortly after, unable to take the feeling of Russell's come inside him. Even though it was an established fact vampires were sterile, they had other bodily fluids like saliva and ejaculate. Talbot could feel his own come near his knees, which were rooted firmly in the couch cushions. Russell shoved him aside and collapsed onto the couch, chest still like that of a marble statue. His progeny sat beside him. Their hair was tousled, their clothes were nearly backward, their pants were stuffed around their knees. Talbot was the first to yank his back up. Russell stared at him, still smiling. He tossed his head back with a laugh. The fire in the hearth had all but died down. If a lamp in the corner of the recreation room hadn't been on, they would have been in near darkness. Not that the prospect of darkness bothered either of them.
"Oh, throw your dumb Independence Party," Talbot said.
"Thank you for understanding, my dear," Russell replied. "Perhaps it will be as good as the last get-together we threw in '89."
"Don't talk like it was the 1900s," Talbot scolded. "It was 1889 and someone got murdered."
Russell shrugged, tucking his length back into his trousers like he would a utensil. Without fuss or embarrassment, naturally. "So will we have balloons, my dear?"
Talbot rolled his eyes and pulled his silken robe around himself. "Have your balloons."
Russell leaned over and kissed his progeny on the lips. His progeny pulled back a little at the taste of his own fluid. When the vampire king pulled away, a string of saliva hung from both their lips. Russell smirked, but Talbot wiped the shared spit away, disgusted.
"Happy Independence Day, my dear."
"Ugh, happy Fourth. Now, I am really going to ground." Talbot took the time to walk to the doors, rather than use the speed innate to vampires. He paused and looked back at his maker, his lover, his disheveled king. Though he looked at Russell lovingly, he said sharply, "The sun will be up very soon. I am going to write a list of tasks I expect to be done by the time I wake. I can only imagine the things that need to be done. But when I do it for you, I guess they don't seem so overwhelming."