Now in his own room, Israel laid down on the bed with a sigh. It's been too long…he thought. He looked up at his raised hands which were shaking slightly. I'm surprised I made it this far. He stood and walked to the door quietly, first making sure that it was closed completely, and then turning the key already inserted into the lock.
As he walked to the large desk at the corner of the room, Israel removed his shirt and threw it onto the bed. He pulled the chair out and took a seat. A small jewelry box rested at the back of the desk. He pulled it forward and retrieved a small silver key from its contents, and then slid the key into the keyhole of the desk's bottom drawer. Inside sat a thin strip of cloth, a little black bag, a silver spoon, and a long syringe that gleamed seductively in the dim lamp-light.
Israel pulled out the cloth and wrapped it around his right arm, using his teeth to pull it tight. He waited for the vein in his arm to rise, and then reached for a small, silver-plated spoon. Carefully, he emptied some of the bag's powered contents into the curve of the spoon and moved to hold it over the open-flame of a candle. It bubbled on the spoon. Israel sighed longingly as the sweet scent drifted off the substance, which was becoming increasingly liquid from the heat.
After only a few minutes, he picked up the syringe and filled it with the translucent liquid, then tapped the bubbles to the top, pushing them out with a squirt of liquid. Israel took a deep breath and positioned the syringe carefully above his vein. It slid into his arm effortlessly, as did its contents when he pressed the top of the syringe.
Israel sighed, and relaxed himself back into the chair. His veins burned as they drank the liquid, and he slowly removed the needle and cloth. His head spun as euphoria washed through him, like a wave breaking over his head and carrying him out to sea. Israel found himself distracted by the dancing flames of the candle, the feel of his own veins squirming like a nest of snakes under his skin. The world turned to honey, thick and slow and sweet.
After a moment, he forced himself to stand. His tools were locked away once more, and Israel stumbled to his bed to fall onto it heavily.
Loki sat on the bed he had been given in calm silence. The room was large, not unlike his quarters in Mordei, although this room was less grand. He sighed and fell back onto the white satin sheets, running a hand through his hair. Although it was well into the night, he found himself unable to sleep. He lay there, motionless, until he could not bear it and had to stand. He made his way to the door and silently slid outside.
The hall was bathed in candlelight, and he basked a moment in the beauty. He turned to look, finding the door that lead to Israel's chambers. After a moment's contemplation, he quietly padded through the hall, stopping just before Israel's door. Should I? he pondered. He reached out tentatively and grasped the doorknob, turning it slowly only to find the door locked tight.
He stood there for a moment and slowly let his hand slide from the knob. Shoving his long fingers into his pockets, he sighed and turned from the door. He turned back, though, before he had taken half a dozen steps. Hand raised, he wrapped softly on the wood, bringing his lips close to whisper, "Israel."
Behind the closed door he could hear shuffling.
"Just a minute!" Israel's voice called. After a moment, the door opened and Israel peeked out of the doorway.
"I know it's late," Loki started quietly. He suddenly felt shy. His eyes glanced over Israel's disheveled appearance. "I hope I didn't wake you…"
"It's…it's fine." Israel opened the door a little wider and waved him in.
Loki stepped past him into the room. "It's so quiet here," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair once more.
Israel rubbed his eyes blearily. "Everyone's asleep," he grumbled.
"I'm sorry," Loki apologized meekly.
"It's alright," Israel sighed. "Come lay down with me."
Loki's eyes brightened hopefully as he walked over with Israel to lie beside him on the bed. They were both silent; Israel lying there motionless, and Loki with his head resting on Israel's shoulder.
"…You're heart's beating quickly," Loki observed. He smiled and brushed his lips slowly across Israel's neck. "You're not nervous, are you?"
Israel moaned softly and pressed himself closer to Loki. "Maybe a little bit," he lied.
Loki nipped at Israel's skin teasingly, letting his fangs graze over the soft flesh.
Israel closed his eyes and sighed gently, letting Loki have his way, and savoring his touch.
Loki shifted closer and began to slip his fangs beneath Israel's skin.
With a slight gasp, Israel pulled away from Loki. If he tastes that in my blood…he thought, a feeling of dread overtaking him.
Loki ran his tongue over his fangs and tilted his head to the side curiously. "Is something wrong?"
"No, Loki," Israel said, trying to keep calm. "I'm just…too tired for that tonight."
Loki smiled warmly. "Alright, hun." He turned away dejectedly and made to stand, but was halted as Israel's arms circled his waist, pulling him back onto the bed.
"Stay with me," Israel whispered.
Loki turned swiftly and threw his arms around Israel's slight form. He sighed, running his hands through Israel's hair. "Your wish, my command."