Okay, so I know this is a really unusual pairing, but I got inspired. I hope you enjoy it. If you don't, I understand. This just may not be your cup of tea. :)
Scowling again, Oliver rounded the corner. There crouched the Day house, dark and silent with slumber. Just to the side opened the alleyway that he was headed for. Stalking unhappily toward it, he turned up the collar of his long, black, leather coat. Obviously, he could feel neither heat nor cold due to his being a vampire, but he felt more at ease with the cover over his shoulders. Quickly, he scurried into the passageway. He unlocked the door with precision and swept inside to quickly relock it behind him lest Myrnin be in one of his states. Though the apartment was completely devoid of light, Oliver easily caught sight of the vampire he was to make his delivery to. Myrnin, black eyes glinting despite the absence of light, was huddled in a tiny space between an armchair and the wall. All around him was scattered the usual disarray: broken beakers and tubes, ancient texts, overturned furniture. A chill ran through Oliver's spine. Coming here always roused thoughts of Oliver himself becoming like this: a creature of the wild, without morals or thoughts. A purely instinctual being. "It's rather not dignifying for a grown man to lurk in the darkness so, you old fool," Oliver hissed, flicking the light switch. Myrnin hardly seemed to notice the sudden brightness. His eyes were trained solely on Oliver, who had to admit, it was a bit unnerving the way he stared without anything in his eyes. None of the usual distaste at the sight of Oliver swirled in the depths of those dark orbs.
"Dignity isn't something I concern myself with, Oliver, you should know that…" Myrnin replied, though his mind appeared to be somewhere else—obviously. "But I am rather hungry…perhaps…just a taste…" Oliver rolled his eyes.
"I'm not human. You'd glean no usefulness out of me."
"Oh, it is not blood I want."
That made Oliver frown. What else was there? Suddenly feeling as if he might be in danger of a brawl with the loon,—which he wouldn't mind except that Amelie would have his head—Oliver reached into his pocket. The crisp paper crackled in his hand as he drew it out; the note seemed to draw Myrnin's attention, for his dark eyes flitted to them for a moment. "I'll leave this on the table. It's a message from Amelie. Read it when you're lucid again." With that, Oliver turned abruptly on his heel to start for the door. But then came the telltale sound: Myrnin's ever so slight footfall; there he stood, eyes gleaming, curly hair in a mess on his head; a tight smile ruined his features—though Oliver had never thought much of them in the first place. "Out of my way, fool. I've got no time for your games."
Myrnin cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy. "Oh, but I'm so lonely. Won't you play with me, Oliver?"
Eyes narrowed, Oliver growled, "Move."
"Please?"
"Move!"
A short silence ensued. Myrnin's face evolved from puckered and begging to dark and triumphant. "You want me to move? Okay." Before Oliver could even register anything, Myrnin barreled into him, shoving him to the floor. Sitting atop a stunned Oliver, Myrnin purred with delight. "I moved! Now you play with me!"
"No, I won't! Get off, you—what are you doing?" Oliver's voice jumped an octave higher when Myrnin's fingers slid to the hem of Oliver's shirt. Voice caught in his throat, Oliver watched in horror as the other vampire's slender fingers coaxed the hem of his shirt up over his abdomen. Myrnin lowered his face until it was less than an inch from Oliver's.
"I'm playing with you, Oliver. What else?" the lunatic answered honestly.
Fighting to free his voice from its cage in his larynx, Oliver grabbed frantically at Myrnin's hands, but Myrnin firmly locked them above Oliver's head with one of his own. "S-Stop, Myrnin, this isn't funny," Oliver stammered, his voice quivering—though not from fear or disgust. No, Oliver hated himself for it, but this was the first time anyone had touched his bare skin in these places since… He couldn't remember the last time. This was bad. Myrnin's lips had begun caressing Oliver's collarbone, sending searing fire across where their skin met.
"Wasn't meant to be funny," Myrnin breathed between kisses.
Oliver's mind had gone numb; he'd ceased fighting and now lay limp and half-naked beneath Myrnin. His upper body now fully exposed, Oliver's pride and conscious mind battled their way through the mist that had trapped them at the back of his brain. "I'm not so desperate for companionship that I'll lie with a man, Myrnin. Now get off of me."
The raving lunatic sat up, eyes still on Oliver, and gazed at him thoughtfully. "Mm…don't think so," he chirped then ducked right back down to run his tongue along Oliver's abs. Growling in frustration, Oliver started to push Myrnin away.
But Myrnin kissed him.
He pressed a forceful, demanding kiss onto Oliver's lips, making the latter squawk in surprise and irritation. Yet as Oliver fought, Myrnin continued to kiss him. And even though Oliver's sane mind was screaming at him to struggle, his body commandeered. Slowly, Oliver began to sink back onto the ground; he looped his arms around Myrnin's neck whose lips felt unbelievably soft; somehow, his fingers found their way to the buttons of Myrnin's shirt.
Soon they were both gone: both lost in desire but only one fully aware.
O.o.O
The intoxicating, sweet scent of blood woke Oliver. He was aware of an aching that infected his whole body, a soft mattress and pillow beneath him, and the sound of someone slurping something out of a straw. Eyelids glued together with exhaustion, Oliver peered around to find himself in Myrnin's minuscule bedroom. There sat the proud assaulter, legs crossed, in his red, wingtip chair. It seemed his insanity had passed—at least for now. He was reading a newspaper while he sipped hungrily from a glass of red liquid, making Oliver lick his lips.
Just then, Myrnin noticed Oliver had awakened. "Well. Quite the interesting predicament we find ourselves in, no?"
Never in his life had Oliver wanted to wring someone's throat more. "I'll kill you, you bastard."
"Oh, by all means." Myrnin threw his arms out wide in invitation. "I don't mean to put up any sort of resistance."
Had he been human, Oliver's face would've turned beet red. Instead, he cast his gaze downward and grumbled, "I didn't mean now."
Myrnin blinked. "Really? Why not?"
Sending all the deadly thoughts one has in a single glare seems an impossible feat, but Oliver accomplished it with flying colors as he glowered with malice at Myrnin. "Because, you bastard, my ass hurts."
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