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Blaine may not have been a ghoul anymore, but he was still an agent of Matthew. An extension of his power. The dynamic between them hadn't changed much since the blonde's Embrace. It was still sex, blood, and love that swirled between them with a healthy dose of diabetic affection. Matthew's hand was still stayed and softened by the blonde's presence, which was lucky for all until you crossed that line. When that happened, sometimes Blaine became that hard edge that was dispatched to take care of problems.
Tonight he was playing that role and it had cost him a lot of blood. He was driving back on his motorcycle, everything passing by in a blur even to his enhanced vision. He had reported to Matthew that it was complete and when asked if he was alright, Blaine had to admit he was far lower on blood than he should be and barely holding on. There was a pause and then Matthew answered, "I'll get Joslin to handle it."
After that Blaine just concentrated on riding.
Blaine pulled up to the gate and through it as he'd been expected and it had opened. He zoomed up the drive and into the garage with barely any space to clear over his head. He was *hungry* and there was a heartbeat so close by. His eyes were being taken over by the monstrous hunger inside and when the door opened it didn't matter who it was. He was by his motorcycle dropping his helmet on the floor and the next moment he had flashed over and wrenched the neck of that sweet heartbeat sideways to expose the pulse to his open mouth.
Hot copper filled his mouth and his moan was just as orgasmic as his victim as he sank to his knees, taking the body with him, cradling it possessively and yet so gently. When he pulled his mouth back, it took him a minute of tenderly licking his lips and wiping the blood from his chin before he really felt like himself again. A long sigh of contentment left him before he looked down to move the body off of him.
The blood he'd just ingested ran cold and a lead weight knocked him in the chest and landed in the pit of his stomach.
A strangled noise left him as the sandy blonde hair framed a pale face slack in death. "Joslin," he whispered out, and his face crumpled into pain. His hand ran over his skin and his eyes wandered over the body. "Damnit, why were you here?" He should have known not to come. He had told Matthew what state he was in. No one should have been there except whatever victim he was suppose to-
-and a cold realization bloomed in his chest. It redoubled the pain he felt along with the quick burning Brujah rage. He had been used. This was Matthew's way to get what he wanted and he didn't want to do it himself. Blaine cursed under his breath but he couldn't let this be the end for Joslin and their Prince knew that. The blonde lifted his arm to his mouth and ripped open a gash that bled only briefly before closing up again, but it was long enough. He tilted the lolling neck back and let the blood drip into the now open mouth.
"I'm sorry for not asking," he murmured and watched the shiver of life suddenly go through the body in his lap. Eyes popped open, shocked and bewildered. He remembered it so well, his first awakening, and he made a promise to himself to give Matthew a punch right to his pretty face...
...as soon as he took care of the hunger that was quickly taking over Joslin's handsome face.
--
Blaine meant a lot to Matthew as a lover and companion alone but there was no denying how the blond influenced the court and how the raven haired Prince ruled. The area had done better for it, really, since Blaine balanced out the horrid temper and sometimes sulky, aggressive attitude, and while Matthew normally tended to his own matters, the rare one did require Blaine's more even head.
Of course, while Blaine had been nothing short of an amazing force of light and love, (ironic, considering), Matthew wasn't dumb enough to think that the former hitman would be enough. He needed his retainers too - Well, one of them anyway. Maurice was due to retire in a few weeks, what would he do then? Too old to turn, to fondly held to kill; Matthew could only set him up in a comfortable place so he could die peacefully. Joslin, however, was a different story.
He remembered Joslin's rejection of his offers before - No, Matthew, I will die old and in my bed, or young and in a fight, but I was born human, I will die human - and he's tried to respect it for as long as he could. Joslin was just as important and closely held as Maurice or Blaine, but Matthew would have him. Some part of him mourned the life of the Russian that he could hear fading from the garage, only a wall away, but he was reassured by reminding himself of everything that Joslin had instead.
Power. A place next to him. A family; the same one he'd been a part of for years. The man would adjust. They all adjusted.
Perhaps Matthew should have been more considerate in choosing who let that sexy axe fall, but Blaine was the only one. He wouldn't have Joslin turned by someone he didn't influence or control. The man meant too much. They both did. It might take them a while, but he and his delusions were sure they'd come around to eventually forgiving him.
And in the end, Matthew was still the only one that got what he wanted.
Tonight he was playing that role and it had cost him a lot of blood. He was driving back on his motorcycle, everything passing by in a blur even to his enhanced vision. He had reported to Matthew that it was complete and when asked if he was alright, Blaine had to admit he was far lower on blood than he should be and barely holding on. There was a pause and then Matthew answered, "I'll get Joslin to handle it."
After that Blaine just concentrated on riding.
Blaine pulled up to the gate and through it as he'd been expected and it had opened. He zoomed up the drive and into the garage with barely any space to clear over his head. He was *hungry* and there was a heartbeat so close by. His eyes were being taken over by the monstrous hunger inside and when the door opened it didn't matter who it was. He was by his motorcycle dropping his helmet on the floor and the next moment he had flashed over and wrenched the neck of that sweet heartbeat sideways to expose the pulse to his open mouth.
Hot copper filled his mouth and his moan was just as orgasmic as his victim as he sank to his knees, taking the body with him, cradling it possessively and yet so gently. When he pulled his mouth back, it took him a minute of tenderly licking his lips and wiping the blood from his chin before he really felt like himself again. A long sigh of contentment left him before he looked down to move the body off of him.
The blood he'd just ingested ran cold and a lead weight knocked him in the chest and landed in the pit of his stomach.
A strangled noise left him as the sandy blonde hair framed a pale face slack in death. "Joslin," he whispered out, and his face crumpled into pain. His hand ran over his skin and his eyes wandered over the body. "Damnit, why were you here?" He should have known not to come. He had told Matthew what state he was in. No one should have been there except whatever victim he was suppose to-
-and a cold realization bloomed in his chest. It redoubled the pain he felt along with the quick burning Brujah rage. He had been used. This was Matthew's way to get what he wanted and he didn't want to do it himself. Blaine cursed under his breath but he couldn't let this be the end for Joslin and their Prince knew that. The blonde lifted his arm to his mouth and ripped open a gash that bled only briefly before closing up again, but it was long enough. He tilted the lolling neck back and let the blood drip into the now open mouth.
"I'm sorry for not asking," he murmured and watched the shiver of life suddenly go through the body in his lap. Eyes popped open, shocked and bewildered. He remembered it so well, his first awakening, and he made a promise to himself to give Matthew a punch right to his pretty face...
...as soon as he took care of the hunger that was quickly taking over Joslin's handsome face.
--
Blaine meant a lot to Matthew as a lover and companion alone but there was no denying how the blond influenced the court and how the raven haired Prince ruled. The area had done better for it, really, since Blaine balanced out the horrid temper and sometimes sulky, aggressive attitude, and while Matthew normally tended to his own matters, the rare one did require Blaine's more even head.
Of course, while Blaine had been nothing short of an amazing force of light and love, (ironic, considering), Matthew wasn't dumb enough to think that the former hitman would be enough. He needed his retainers too - Well, one of them anyway. Maurice was due to retire in a few weeks, what would he do then? Too old to turn, to fondly held to kill; Matthew could only set him up in a comfortable place so he could die peacefully. Joslin, however, was a different story.
He remembered Joslin's rejection of his offers before - No, Matthew, I will die old and in my bed, or young and in a fight, but I was born human, I will die human - and he's tried to respect it for as long as he could. Joslin was just as important and closely held as Maurice or Blaine, but Matthew would have him. Some part of him mourned the life of the Russian that he could hear fading from the garage, only a wall away, but he was reassured by reminding himself of everything that Joslin had instead.
Power. A place next to him. A family; the same one he'd been a part of for years. The man would adjust. They all adjusted.
Perhaps Matthew should have been more considerate in choosing who let that sexy axe fall, but Blaine was the only one. He wouldn't have Joslin turned by someone he didn't influence or control. The man meant too much. They both did. It might take them a while, but he and his delusions were sure they'd come around to eventually forgiving him.
And in the end, Matthew was still the only one that got what he wanted.
