Eric waited for five minutes before someone knocked on the door. Before he could even blink, his body had risen and bolted for the door. At that moment, standing behind the door with his hand on the knob, Eric realized how starved he was. For blood. For human contact. For sexual stimulation. He closed his eyes for a moment and prayed to any and all of the gods he didn't believe in that his feeder would allow him to touch him. And that the feeder was indeed a him. If it was a woman, he would promptly send her back. He wouldn't even bite her. She would probably think that she did something wrong and cut herself down for days and days.
That added to Eric's desire for a male feeder.
It had been so long since he had fed on a male. Just the thought made his fangs slowly appear. Men were usually more fierier than women were, or maybe it was just the feeder "profession". They weren't as whiny, either. Most women begged for their lives, or acted so corny (a lot of, "Oh, please, no...") that he almost couldn't stand it.
If Eric were alive, his heart would have been beating anxiously and his breath would have been haggard. But he wasn't, so the only signs of his emotions were his eager eyes and his teeth, which sank themselves in and out of his lips. The door felt like it was taking forever to open, as if it were six-inch thick led. Eric wrinkled his nose and pulled the knob to him. Best to get this over with.
He was pleased with what he found.
In front of his was a mortal male, Caucasian but tanned (European?), with dark brown hair and cloudy gray eyes. Eric purred in his throat. The male's muscles pressed tautly against his tight rust-orange v-neck and tight dark-washed jeans. He smelled like warmth and...man. Very, very nice. His face was pretty, too. Angular cheekbones, but not too sharp. A small beauty mark above the left corner of his calm, sexy smile. Oh, if this boy didn't let him touch him... The thought alone made Eric frustrated.
Any, and every god...please...please let him swing this way. Please, please, please.
"Mr. Northman?" the male asked. His voice was even attractive. "I'm Francesco, but you can call me Franco. Pleasure to meet you." With a smirk, he held out his hand. His smell surrounded Eric, like his hand was the moon, commanding his smell, the ocean. Waves of it hit the blond and he closed his eyes, allowing himself to revel in the smell. He took the feeder's hand and raised it to his nose, turning it over to expose his wrist. He could almost hear plump veins throbbing eagerly, anxious for Eric's fangs to be anywhere and everywhere.
"You, too," he retorted gruffly. He then tugged the male in, closing the door with a flick of his wrist. The feeder laughed and casually took in the room. "I trust you're familiar with the room? Or shall I hold your hand and walk you through it?"
Francesco laughed. Rich, sensual.
Please, oh please, let me touch you.
"The rooms are nice, s'all. I've been in a few. Not enough to 'get around', but enough to know my surroundings." Clever, too? Oh, oh, oh. All of the blood in Eric's body was rushing downwards. "So...shall we continue to play this game of cat and mouse? Does it get you off?"
"You do not know the things that get me off," was chuckled back. Eric sat down on the coffee table and watched, amused, as Franco walked behind the couch, his fingers trailing on the length of the furniture.
"I could guess, if you'd like."
Please, oh please, oh please.
"Come. Sit down." Eric patted the leather couch before him and the other male complied without so much as a word. He sat down and the smell of leather clouded up like before. It made him smell even better. Eric leaned forward. "So, Franco..." he whispered, pushing back the lush black-brown locks that flirted with his olive cheeks. "Tell me a bit about yourself. American born, or...?"
"German-born. Raised between there and Italy until I was nine. Then my family and I immigrated into the States and...found our way here. Why?" He crossed his legs and rested his intertwined fingers on his kneecap.
Foreigner. Eric smiled again. "It makes the blood taste different, being from America or from another part of the world. Europeans usually taste...richer."
"Oh, well, in that case...let's cut out this game of cat and mouse. See if I taste...European enough for you." Plump pink lips were pouted outwards. Eric wanted to bite them and never let go. Francesco dragged his index finger down Eric's own lips, and laughed when the vampire snapped teasingly at them. "I'm waiting." With wide eyes, Eric watched as Francesco extended his neck. The skin was so taunt, he could see the blood moving, could see the air working its way in and out of his body.
"No." In a flash, his teeth were in his neck. The blood flowing through the Italian-mix tasted even better than the boy, himself, smelt. Tasted better than every European male--hell, every male--that he had ever tasted. Like he was the crème de la crème of blood sources. Eric placed one hand on the boy's shoulder and the other on his waist, pulling him in. He listened tentatively, hanging onto the soft moans of pain and pleasure that escaped Franco's beautiful, beautiful mouth.
But it wasn't enough.
He removed his teeth and held his head in his hands. It wasn't enough for this attractive man to be in the room, willingly offering his blood. There would be fun, hopefully, but there wasn't any at the moment. It killed the mood.
"Wh...What's wrong?" Franco muttered. Instinctively, his hand flew to his neck wound, but his eyes didn't widen at the blood. Not enough to "get around", but...
"It's not enough. God dammit, God dammit, God dammit..."
"What's not enough? Attractive male, AB-, willing and for the taking..."
"That's just it! There's no fun in it."
Stumbling at first, Francesco rose to his feet and took a second to process what Eric had said. Despite the fact that Eric hadn't taken much blood, the loss of it made Francesco a little slower for the uptake. He interpreted the words before replying. "Fine. I'll leave, since I'm not fun enough for you, Mr. Tall Blond Vampire. What exactly are you looking for when you say 'fun'?"
"Excitement, passion, fear, no clothes," Eric listed, counting on his fingers as his own brain processed the situation. This could work in his favor. "And, while you're exciting, you're still dressed, and you're just a puppet. I say this, you do it. You act in my favor. You have no spine. No entertaining qualities about you."
He looked a little hurt, like the words had fabricated themselves into an invisible hand and slapped him. "If you want fun and naked, why don't you find a hooker? I'm no hooker, sweetheart. And I'd be a lot more expensive than you could ever afford."
Fire. There it was. The blood began its happy trek back southward. Eric stood up. "If you were a hooker, you wouldn't even stand a chance. In the world of hookers, you are dirt. Nothing."
There was a spark growing in those cloudy eyes. "What are you saying?"
"You're attractive, sweetheart, but I've seen better looking hookers in the ground." Oh, how Eric wished Franco would take the bait. They would fight for a moment or two, add some fun to the mix, and Eric would be able to feed and perform and have an amazing stay at the hotel.
"You son of a bitch!" Was he going to try and hit Eric?
Oh, please try.
"Does it make you angry? Being second--no, third rate! All you are is a feeder! There's nothing more to you. You're lower than a hooker." He laughed bitterly, fanning the flames growing beautifully beneath the mortal. For a moment, he could have sworn that they had begun snaking up Franco's crafted legs.
"I'm out of here, you son of a bitch. Fucking vampire!" He began for the door, but before he could grab at the knob, Eric had him by the throat against the door. Gray eyes widened as he flailed a bit. "Let go of me, let go of me!"
"I'm not glamouring you, or killing you, or having sex with you, and I paid for a feeding, so you can stop that right now." Why did people say not to play with the food you intended on eating? It was just so much fun. Before Francesco could counter, Eric's teeth punctured him again. The brunette fought him for a moment before giving in, his heart beating heavily, lazily. Eric's free hand snaked down the back of his jeans and squeezed hard. A strangled moan left his mouth.
"N-No," he protested weakly.
For a moment, Eric pulled back. "Are you sure?" He licked at the wound and brought his nails up one of Franco's cheeks. "Are you sure you don't want this?" He bucked his hips upward and smiled into Francesco's bleeding neck. "It'll be fun, I promise."
"I'm not a hooker," Franco protested.
With a click of his tongue, Eric placed his forehead against Eduardo's. He trailed his tongue against Francesco's lips, the mortal's own blood staining the plump organs. "No. You're so much more."
"You...You son of a bitch liar." He licked at his lips and gave a small smile.
"And you love it. See? So much more fun this way." His hand still tight around Franco's throat, the blond vampire carried his companion to the leather couch. "If I let go, will you be a good boy?" He lifted Francesco's chin and nipped at his Adam's Apple. The other nodded, so Eric let go.
He began for the door.
Eric laughed deeply and knocked him to the floor. "You lied, too. We're even." He smiled down at the other and brushed his hair back again.
"It's more fun, isn't it?"
"Oh, oh, oh. I'm going to tear your ass apart."
As Franco started laughing, Eric's teeth sheathed themselves once more, this time in the meeting spot of the boy's neck and his shoulder. His insides were burning and his pants were getting tight. If his blood tasted this great, Eric could only imagine how it would feel to be inside of him.
How great was this?
Eric slid his hand up the male's shirt and brought his nails down taut flesh. Below him, Francesco's body arched and wiggled. "Take my shirt off, take my shirt off," he huffed, his fingers pulling at the bottom of his t-shirt.
Eric lifted his body up long enough to remove both of their t-shirts. With their chests now bare, they shared their warmth as they hungrily kissed. Fangs snagged on flesh, but if it bothered the mortal, Francesco didn't complain. It wasn't even intentional and there was more blood in his mouth! Eric smiled wickedly into the kiss and gripped Francesco tighter, their lower-halves pressed so closely together that it hurt. In a good way.
Huffing and gasping for air, Francesco pulled back. "My pants, oh God, hurry the fuck up." They laughed together and feverishly went at one another's jeans. Their fingers moved so swiftly that they fumbled and slid against buttons and zippers. Eventually they got the zippers and buttons undone, and eventually they were lying in a pool of clothes, clinging to each other for life. They kissed on the floor, clawing at one another to stay connected and keep the fire between them alive.
Eric ended up on his back with Franco on top of him. The mortal rode him like a champ. Inside he was just as fiery and taut as he was on the outside. Eric could stay inside him forever and just bask in the warmth.
"Fuck, fuck me," Franco cried, his hips grinding against Eric like a pro. With the way his body moved, so sensually and fluidly, he could make millions being an exotic dancer.
It took so much inner strength and focus to keep Eric's eyes from rolling into his head. But then Eric realized: he didn't care. He needed to focus all of his power on fucking the shit out of this mortal. Show him what vampires could do.
What Eric Northman could do.
Swiftly, Eric flipped them both so that Franco was on his back with his ankles on Eric's broad shoulders. He pulled the mortal to meet him so quickly that Eric was positive that he had given him carpet burn. But the moan that he gushed out told Eric that the pleasure towered over the pain.
Eric bit the male's calf as he continued to pump in and out of him.
"God, harder."
The vampire pulled back from Francesco's calf and let his eyes lock with Francesco's own. He was panting so hard below Eric that Eric could feel the mortal's heart beat everywhere. "As you wish," Eric groaned, and did as he was asked.
- - -
"It's almost sunrise," Eric mumbled sadly, playing with Francesco's hair. They were still on the floor, painted in a sheen of cold sweat. But the smell of sex was just so...pleasing that Eric couldn't be bothered to move them into the shower. Even though that did sound appeasing...
"You need to get to bed, don't you?" Franco whispered back.
"Don't you think you ought to get back to the front desk? They're going to think I ate you."
"In more ways than one." The mortal laughed heartily for a moment before sighing loudly. He sat up and rubbed at his neck, gathering his clothes half-heartedly. "I don't want to seem clingy, but will I see you again?" At Eric's raised brow, he laughed again. "Don't flatter yourself. You're just a really, really...great fuck."
Just what he wanted to hear. He laughed back and nipped at Francesco's throat. "I'll be here a few more days. But don't get clingy. I will leave."
"And you will give me your address so I can go to wherever you are and get fucked senseless again, yeah, I know." That cheeky grin that Francesco adopted was contagious. Eric laid on his back and grinned, watching Francesco rise to his feet and begin to dress. He had dimples on his ass. Cute.
"Hm...escape without a trace or keep tabs on the half-Italian with a gorgeous ass, an amazing mouth and delicious blood...hm...hard choice." The questioning look Franco sent him sent Eric into a fit of laughter. He sat himself up, propped up by his arms, and shrugged his shoulders. "How many other AB- feeders are there here?"
"None. Just me." He winked as he fastened his pants.
"Thankfully that's my preference." Eric snapped his teeth at the mortal. "I'll see you tonight?"
"I'm not a hooker," Franco joked.
"No, you're so much more," Eric purred back. "I'll see you after my little get-together with the Sheriff around here."
"I'll be waiting." And with that, Francesco walked out the hotel room.
The vampire rose to his feet. Without collecting his clothes, he strolled to the hotel bed, humming a song from his native land under his breath. Someone needed to cause more problems in Denver, problems involving Eric's aid, because this hotel's service was to die for.
Eric waited for five minutes before someone knocked on the door. Before he could even blink, his body had risen and bolted for the door. At that moment, standing behind the door with his hand on the knob, Eric realized how starved he was. For blood. For human contact. For sexual stimulation. He closed his eyes for a moment and prayed to any and all of the gods he didn't believe in that his feeder would allow him to touch him. And that the feeder was indeed a him. If it was a woman, he would promptly send her back. He wouldn't even bite her. She would probably think that she did something wrong and cut herself down for days and days.
That added to Eric's desire for a male feeder.
It had been so long since he had fed on a male. Just the thought made his fangs slowly appear. Men were usually more fierier than women were, or maybe it was just the feeder "profession". They weren't as whiny, either. Most women begged for their lives, or acted so corny (a lot of, "Oh, please, no...") that he almost couldn't stand it.
If Eric were alive, his heart would have been beating anxiously and his breath would have been haggard. But he wasn't, so the only signs of his emotions were his eager eyes and his teeth, which sank themselves in and out of his lips. The door felt like it was taking forever to open, as if it were six-inch thick led. Eric wrinkled his nose and pulled the knob to him. Best to get this over with.
He was pleased with what he found.
In front of his was a mortal male, Caucasian but tanned (European?), with dark brown hair and cloudy gray eyes. Eric purred in his throat. The male's muscles pressed tautly against his tight rust-orange v-neck and tight dark-washed jeans. He smelled like warmth and...man. Very, very nice. His face was pretty, too. Angular cheekbones, but not too sharp. A small beauty mark above the left corner of his calm, sexy smile. Oh, if this boy didn't let him touch him... The thought alone made Eric frustrated.
Any, and every god...please...please let him swing this way. Please, please, please.
"Mr. Northman?" the male asked. His voice was even attractive. "I'm Francesco, but you can call me Franco. Pleasure to meet you." With a smirk, he held out his hand. His smell surrounded Eric, like his hand was the moon, commanding his smell, the ocean. Waves of it hit the blond and he closed his eyes, allowing himself to revel in the smell. He took the feeder's hand and raised it to his nose, turning it over to expose his wrist. He could almost hear plump veins throbbing eagerly, anxious for Eric's fangs to be anywhere and everywhere.
"You, too," he retorted gruffly. He then tugged the male in, closing the door with a flick of his wrist. The feeder laughed and casually took in the room. "I trust you're familiar with the room? Or shall I hold your hand and walk you through it?"
Francesco laughed. Rich, sensual.
Please, oh please, let me touch you.
"The rooms are nice, s'all. I've been in a few. Not enough to 'get around', but enough to know my surroundings." Clever, too? Oh, oh, oh. All of the blood in Eric's body was rushing downwards. "So...shall we continue to play this game of cat and mouse? Does it get you off?"
"You do not know the things that get me off," was chuckled back. Eric sat down on the coffee table and watched, amused, as Franco walked behind the couch, his fingers trailing on the length of the furniture.
"I could guess, if you'd like."
Please, oh please, oh please.
"Come. Sit down." Eric patted the leather couch before him and the other male complied without so much as a word. He sat down and the smell of leather clouded up like before. It made him smell even better. Eric leaned forward. "So, Franco..." he whispered, pushing back the lush black-brown locks that flirted with his olive cheeks. "Tell me a bit about yourself. American born, or...?"
"German-born. Raised between there and Italy until I was nine. Then my family and I immigrated into the States and...found our way here. Why?" He crossed his legs and rested his intertwined fingers on his kneecap.
Foreigner. Eric smiled again. "It makes the blood taste different, being from America or from another part of the world. Europeans usually taste...richer."
"Oh, well, in that case...let's cut out this game of cat and mouse. See if I taste...European enough for you." Plump pink lips were pouted outwards. Eric wanted to bite them and never let go. Francesco dragged his index finger down Eric's own lips, and laughed when the vampire snapped teasingly at them. "I'm waiting." With wide eyes, Eric watched as Francesco extended his neck. The skin was so taunt, he could see the blood moving, could see the air working its way in and out of his body.
"No." In a flash, his teeth were in his neck. The blood flowing through the Italian-mix tasted even better than the boy, himself, smelt. Tasted better than every European male--hell, every male--that he had ever tasted. Like he was the crème de la crème of blood sources. Eric placed one hand on the boy's shoulder and the other on his waist, pulling him in. He listened tentatively, hanging onto the soft moans of pain and pleasure that escaped Franco's beautiful, beautiful mouth.
But it wasn't enough.
He removed his teeth and held his head in his hands. It wasn't enough for this attractive man to be in the room, willingly offering his blood. There would be fun, hopefully, but there wasn't any at the moment. It killed the mood.
"Wh...What's wrong?" Franco muttered. Instinctively, his hand flew to his neck wound, but his eyes didn't widen at the blood. Not enough to "get around", but...
"It's not enough. God dammit, God dammit, God dammit..."
"What's not enough? Attractive male, AB-, willing and for the taking..."
"That's just it! There's no fun in it."
Stumbling at first, Francesco rose to his feet and took a second to process what Eric had said. Despite the fact that Eric hadn't taken much blood, the loss of it made Francesco a little slower for the uptake. He interpreted the words before replying. "Fine. I'll leave, since I'm not fun enough for you, Mr. Tall Blond Vampire. What exactly are you looking for when you say 'fun'?"
"Excitement, passion, fear, no clothes," Eric listed, counting on his fingers as his own brain processed the situation. This could work in his favor. "And, while you're exciting, you're still dressed, and you're just a puppet. I say this, you do it. You act in my favor. You have no spine. No entertaining qualities about you."
He looked a little hurt, like the words had fabricated themselves into an invisible hand and slapped him. "If you want fun and naked, why don't you find a hooker? I'm no hooker, sweetheart. And I'd be a lot more expensive than you could ever afford."
Fire. There it was. The blood began its happy trek back southward. Eric stood up. "If you were a hooker, you wouldn't even stand a chance. In the world of hookers, you are dirt. Nothing."
There was a spark growing in those cloudy eyes. "What are you saying?"
"You're attractive, sweetheart, but I've seen better looking hookers in the ground." Oh, how Eric wished Franco would take the bait. They would fight for a moment or two, add some fun to the mix, and Eric would be able to feed and perform and have an amazing stay at the hotel.
"You son of a bitch!" Was he going to try and hit Eric?
Oh, please try.
"Does it make you angry? Being second--no, third rate! All you are is a feeder! There's nothing more to you. You're lower than a hooker." He laughed bitterly, fanning the flames growing beautifully beneath the mortal. For a moment, he could have sworn that they had begun snaking up Franco's crafted legs.
"I'm out of here, you son of a bitch. Fucking vampire!" He began for the door, but before he could grab at the knob, Eric had him by the throat against the door. Gray eyes widened as he flailed a bit. "Let go of me, let go of me!"
"I'm not glamouring you, or killing you, or having sex with you, and I paid for a feeding, so you can stop that right now." Why did people say not to play with the food you intended on eating? It was just so much fun. Before Francesco could counter, Eric's teeth punctured him again. The brunette fought him for a moment before giving in, his heart beating heavily, lazily. Eric's free hand snaked down the back of his jeans and squeezed hard. A strangled moan left his mouth.
"N-No," he protested weakly.
For a moment, Eric pulled back. "Are you sure?" He licked at the wound and brought his nails up one of Franco's cheeks. "Are you sure you don't want this?" He bucked his hips upward and smiled into Francesco's bleeding neck. "It'll be fun, I promise."
"I'm not a hooker," Franco protested.
With a click of his tongue, Eric placed his forehead against Eduardo's. He trailed his tongue against Francesco's lips, the mortal's own blood staining the plump organs. "No. You're so much more."
"You...You son of a bitch liar." He licked at his lips and gave a small smile.
"And you love it. See? So much more fun this way." His hand still tight around Franco's throat, the blond vampire carried his companion to the leather couch. "If I let go, will you be a good boy?" He lifted Francesco's chin and nipped at his Adam's Apple. The other nodded, so Eric let go.
He began for the door.
Eric laughed deeply and knocked him to the floor. "You lied, too. We're even." He smiled down at the other and brushed his hair back again.
"It's more fun, isn't it?"
"Oh, oh, oh. I'm going to tear your ass apart."
As Franco started laughing, Eric's teeth sheathed themselves once more, this time in the meeting spot of the boy's neck and his shoulder. His insides were burning and his pants were getting tight. If his blood tasted this great, Eric could only imagine how it would feel to be inside of him.
How great was this?
Eric slid his hand up the male's shirt and brought his nails down taut flesh. Below him, Francesco's body arched and wiggled. "Take my shirt off, take my shirt off," he huffed, his fingers pulling at the bottom of his t-shirt.
Eric lifted his body up long enough to remove both of their t-shirts. With their chests now bare, they shared their warmth as they hungrily kissed. Fangs snagged on flesh, but if it bothered the mortal, Francesco didn't complain. It wasn't even intentional and there was more blood in his mouth! Eric smiled wickedly into the kiss and gripped Francesco tighter, their lower-halves pressed so closely together that it hurt. In a good way.
Huffing and gasping for air, Francesco pulled back. "My pants, oh God, hurry the fuck up." They laughed together and feverishly went at one another's jeans. Their fingers moved so swiftly that they fumbled and slid against buttons and zippers. Eventually they got the zippers and buttons undone, and eventually they were lying in a pool of clothes, clinging to each other for life. They kissed on the floor, clawing at one another to stay connected and keep the fire between them alive.
Eric ended up on his back with Franco on top of him. The mortal rode him like a champ. Inside he was just as fiery and taut as he was on the outside. Eric could stay inside him forever and just bask in the warmth.
"Fuck, fuck me," Franco cried, his hips grinding against Eric like a pro. With the way his body moved, so sensually and fluidly, he could make millions being an exotic dancer.
It took so much inner strength and focus to keep Eric's eyes from rolling into his head. But then Eric realized: he didn't care. He needed to focus all of his power on fucking the shit out of this mortal. Show him what vampires could do.
What Eric Northman could do.
Swiftly, Eric flipped them both so that Franco was on his back with his ankles on Eric's broad shoulders. He pulled the mortal to meet him so quickly that Eric was positive that he had given him carpet burn. But the moan that he gushed out told Eric that the pleasure towered over the pain.
Eric bit the male's calf as he continued to pump in and out of him.
"God, harder."
The vampire pulled back from Francesco's calf and let his eyes lock with Francesco's own. He was panting so hard below Eric that Eric could feel the mortal's heart beat everywhere. "As you wish," Eric groaned, and did as he was asked.
- - -
"It's almost sunrise," Eric mumbled sadly, playing with Francesco's hair. They were still on the floor, painted in a sheen of cold sweat. But the smell of sex was just so...pleasing that Eric couldn't be bothered to move them into the shower. Even though that did sound appeasing...
"You need to get to bed, don't you?" Franco whispered back.
"Don't you think you ought to get back to the front desk? They're going to think I ate you."
"In more ways than one." The mortal laughed heartily for a moment before sighing loudly. He sat up and rubbed at his neck, gathering his clothes half-heartedly. "I don't want to seem clingy, but will I see you again?" At Eric's raised brow, he laughed again. "Don't flatter yourself. You're just a really, really...great fuck."
Just what he wanted to hear. He laughed back and nipped at Francesco's throat. "I'll be here a few more days. But don't get clingy. I will leave."
"And you will give me your address so I can go to wherever you are and get fucked senseless again, yeah, I know." That cheeky grin that Francesco adopted was contagious. Eric laid on his back and grinned, watching Francesco rise to his feet and begin to dress. He had dimples on his ass. Cute.
"Hm...escape without a trace or keep tabs on the half-Italian with a gorgeous ass, an amazing mouth and delicious blood...hm...hard choice." The questioning look Franco sent him sent Eric into a fit of laughter. He sat himself up, propped up by his arms, and shrugged his shoulders. "How many other AB- feeders are there here?"
"None. Just me." He winked as he fastened his pants.
"Thankfully that's my preference." Eric snapped his teeth at the mortal. "I'll see you tonight?"
"I'm not a hooker," Franco joked.
"No, you're so much more," Eric purred back. "I'll see you after my little get-together with the Sheriff around here."
"I'll be waiting." And with that, Francesco walked out the hotel room.
The vampire rose to his feet. Without collecting his clothes, he strolled to the hotel bed, humming a song from his native land under his breath. Someone needed to cause more problems in Denver, problems involving Eric's aid, because this hotel's service was to die for.
- - -
About the sex scene: I'm sorry I didn't go into as much detail as I usually would. I didn't feel like...I wasn't entirely comfortable, which is weird for me, but, yeah. Maybe next time? I should be writing an Eric/Godric one soon! (: Stay tuned and thanks for reading my two-shot.
