[ The dream would continue 100 years into the past, of two young men exploring and tasting each other until they were satisfied with it, after all ten days had been such a long time to go without and Essek and Caleb of a hundred years previous were still idealistic enough to imagine that was the longest they could ever be apart. One day, they would be proven wrong.
Until then.
Essek awoke, sick with longing. Remembering that night keenly, of pressing Caleb into the bed-- their hands fire on each other, Caleb's huffed breath against his ear, his own soft breathing a perfect mirror. His memory was not absolute, but he retained meaningful memories and could recall them, and more importantly how he had felt during the making of them. Of the early hours of the morning as they tangled limbs and Essek's head resting against his boyfriend's chest-- feeling the thrum of heart that would guide him to his own trance.
Ever aware that he would never get that again.
The event was important enough he had to make an appearance but not important enough that he had to stay. He would work a little bit on a few outfits for Bren to wear during events, so that the other man would be able to accompany him-- his mind was distracted. He fed a little bit from one of his vessels, but those feedings were never personal or intimate, not like the sharing of blood from his lover to him-- in which one drank to savor, not to nourish.
It was well 1 am when he came home, slipping inside quietly. He wore a tailored suit that fitted his slender form, and a shirt that was buttoned up to his neck, his feet made no sound on marble. He was elegantly put together, not a single hair out of place. He handed his car keys to Fjord, the butler and then paused in the foyer. It was quiet and he wondered where he would be able to find Bren, his senses could not pick him up quite yet. ]
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Until then.
Essek awoke, sick with longing. Remembering that night keenly, of pressing Caleb into the bed-- their hands fire on each other, Caleb's huffed breath against his ear, his own soft breathing a perfect mirror. His memory was not absolute, but he retained meaningful memories and could recall them, and more importantly how he had felt during the making of them. Of the early hours of the morning as they tangled limbs and Essek's head resting against his boyfriend's chest-- feeling the thrum of heart that would guide him to his own trance.
Ever aware that he would never get that again.
The event was important enough he had to make an appearance but not important enough that he had to stay. He would work a little bit on a few outfits for Bren to wear during events, so that the other man would be able to accompany him-- his mind was distracted. He fed a little bit from one of his vessels, but those feedings were never personal or intimate, not like the sharing of blood from his lover to him-- in which one drank to savor, not to nourish.
It was well 1 am when he came home, slipping inside quietly. He wore a tailored suit that fitted his slender form, and a shirt that was buttoned up to his neck, his feet made no sound on marble. He was elegantly put together, not a single hair out of place. He handed his car keys to Fjord, the butler and then paused in the foyer. It was quiet and he wondered where he would be able to find Bren, his senses could not pick him up quite yet. ]