Archer

[loveisall]

[From here.]

Once Archer disappears, Godric hesitates a bit, going to his own room first and washing himself off, changing out of Steve's hoodie and into his normal clothes, showing up at Archer's door no more than ten minutes later.

He's so nervous, so...worried that he might have changed his mind, that he practically hallucinates his heart beating in his chest.

At his door, he knocks twice.

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[anti_altruisms]

Archer ghosts his way back to his cabin, and the first thing he does is take a shower. His wounds are negligible, already healing, so the only thing that matters is getting the dirt and blood off. That part only takes about a minute — the rest of the time he’s in there is spent standing under the hot water trying to refocus his thoughts.

He’s just pulling on a pair of loose pants when there’s a knock at the door. Hair still messy and damp, the towel still draped over his shoulders, Archer walks to the door, opens it, and gestures for Godric to come in.

His pulse isn’t racing quite like it was before, but it is still quicker than it normally would be.

[loveisall]

He walks inside as calmly as he can, hands behind his back, and closes the door behind him. He takes him in, obviously fresh from a shower, and forces himself to focus. He steps closer, wrapping his arms around him almost hesitantly. Gone is the quick passion of the corridor, but he knows that there are some things they need to get out of the way first.

But he absolutely wants to do it with his arms around the other man.

[anti_altruisms]

The gesture is stabilizing.

Archer does the best he can to keep the more violent aspects of his nature separate from everything else. He knows, sometimes, there are events or personalities (like Sephiroth) that have the capacity to impact his equilibrium. He knows, too, that they’ve been dancing around this for a while, and of course, he knew it was likely they would get around to this eventually.

What he didn’t anticipate was how quickly it happened. How easily the rush of combat bled over and turned into something else entirely. It’s not a bad thing, he’s not upset — it’s just taking him a little time to...re-calibrate, so to speak.

It’s why he accepts Godric’s embrace and also returns it, wrapping him up in his bare arms so the both of them can be still, together. Just for a moment.

He nudged their noses together and, finally, let’s out a soft laugh. “You’re lucky I didn’t shove you against the wall, you know.”

Just saying, Godric. It was a close thing.

[loveisall]

Godric laughs, turning his face into his chest for a moment before he looks up to him. "You consider that lucky, Archer? I would say I missed an opportunity." He raises up slightly, eyes alight with something different, something that he doesn't show to many people. He's fire and ice in that moment, placing his hands on Archer's chest.

"I do not mind it. I do not mind any of it. There is very little you could do that I would not like." He reaches up, palms against his shoulders. "We have never discussed it, I know, but...perhaps it's time?"

[anti_altruisms]

It was in the hallway, Godric, gosh. He lets out a quiet huff but doesn’t fuss about it.

“I think so, yes.”

It’s been a few months, and while he wouldn’t have considered this a few hours ago...well. He wants to now. And he is sure of it.

“The one thing I would say is that...it has been a while for me.” Breaches don’t count, as far as he’s concerned. “So a detailed list of likes and dislikes does not immediately come to mind.”

[loveisall]

Godric laughs. "Then it is fortunate I am not looking for a list. You can submit that to me at a later date," he deadpans.

Gently, he pulls him into a kiss. It's mostly to stave off the want for a moment, but he also just...wants this.

"Is there anything completely off the table?"

[anti_altruisms]

What is one looking for if not a list?? Again, there's that soft, maybe slightly indignant huff, but the sound is muffled as Godric's lips push against his. It is a welcome distraction too, a small sampling of what they're both about to have. He draws Godric's lower lip between his teeth, tugs gently, and lets go.

He's supposed to be thinking about things he absolutely doesn't want, but that is...exceptionally difficult at the moment.

"...nothing I can think of, but if something comes up, I will let you know."

He doesn't really expect things to get out of hand, though. He hums quietly.

"What about you?"

[loveisall]

He could melt at that, the small bit of pain against his lips.

"Do not draw my blood," he tells him. "I'm not certain it will do anything to you, but it...will make me too nervous." And he doesn't want anything to pull him out of it this first time.

Maybe later.

He grins at the thought, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "May I bite you?" he wonders softly, the question coming soft from his lips.

[anti_altruisms]

Well, that’s interesting. Archer is curious now what exactly Godric’s blood is supposed to do, but that’s an explanation he can ask for another time.

He smiles against the other’s lips.“I’m fairly certainly I can manage to refrain.”

As for the question about biting, he actually laughs. “Isn’t that supposed to be part of the appeal?”

Having sex with a vampire without biting? Perish the thought.

More seriously, he adds, “But yes, you can. Though I would like to know where you’d like to bite me.”

[loveisall]

He loves his laugh.

"For some!" he tells him honestly. "But the vampires of lore have magical fangs that anesthetize the bite. Mine don't. It hurts."

He does speak from experience, after all. The question gets something like snort and he looks up, hands moving down to his waist, wrapping around him, keeping him close. Again, he wonders if this would be a better question asked well before this, but he didn't exactly anticipate that this would happen now.

"Wherever you'll let me," is the easy answer. It gives Archer the power, which Godric desperately wants to ensure. Especially on a thing like this.

[anti_altruisms]

It hurts, he says, as if that’s a deterrent. Archer seems to think about it for a moment, but there’s a touch of humor in his voice when he answers.

“If your fangs were the size of a dragon’s, I might be a little concerned.”

As it is, he has both an exceptionally high pain threshold and the capacity to heal himself. His wounds from before are but gone now, with no evidence he was injured at all.

His arms still looped around Godric’s waist, he leaves a soft kiss on his lips and hums.

“Anywhere from the waist up is fine with me.”

And he does mean anywhere.

[loveisall]

Well, now that's settled, he allows the soft touches and gentle movements, at least for a moment. It's sweet and it's still, but after what he witnessed before, he wants more. With a soft wince, his fangs slide down.

"Then I think that's all we need to discuss. And you should definitely put me against the wall," he mutters, hands suddenly tightening around him before he pushes Archer away, using a great deal of strength. He grins, wanting to play, wanting to see that look on his face again. That hungry, desperate, wild, look.

Wanting to try and invite him to do what they should have done there in the hallway.

[anti_altruisms]

Archer is not a vampire. He has no fangs; therefore that particular visual tell doesn't apply to him. There is a spark that catches in his eyes, though, when Godric gives him that shove. He doesn't move back far, nor does he appear unbalanced.

His pulse spikes, though, and a hint of a smile (a feral one) turns the corners of his mouth.

"The wall it is, then."

The words are barely out of his mouth, and he's moving. Much too fast for the naked human eye to track, Archer has every intention of latching onto his friend and shoving him bodily against the wall. Fangs or no fangs, he'll be kissing him too, and if he pricks himself by accident (or on purpose?) well, he already gave permission for Godric to have a taste.

[loveisall]

It's a while after his conversation with Sweeney that Godric heads straight for Archer's cabin and knocks on his door. The scent of the leprechaun, the faerie is still in his nose, and he needs to get it out of his mind. Out of his system. And he only has one idea.

His knock is a little more urgent than normal.

[anti_altruisms]

Godric comes to visit often enough that Archer has a sense of when it's him at the door. As such, he doesn't have to wait long at all for Archer to open it.

"Godric-"

[loveisall]

Godric doesn't let him finish the greeting. With no pretext, no explanation, no greeting of his own, he reaches up to hook an arm around Archer, pulling himself up on his toes, fangs already sliding down from his teeth.

He brushes lips against his neck, hesitating for a split second with a laugh, giving Archer the option of refusing if he wants.

If that no doesn't come, he'll sink his teeth into his skin.

[anti_altruisms]

No greeting, no nothing. This isn't the first time this has happened so he isn't exactly surprised -- but he is curious what brought this one this time considering how Godric's been lately.

He doesn't ask now. He just kicks the door shut, slides his fingers into Godric's hair, and lets out a soft laugh of his own.

The pain that follows is sharp and searing, but familiar, and so he leans into it. His nails drag against the other's scalp, his muscles coil, and he can feel it his pulse ratchets even higher in his chest. It's fine, though, he's used to this, and he laughs again -- a softer, hoarser sound, but still a laugh.

[loveisall]

He doesn't drink too deeply from him then, not wanting the dull contentment that comes with the magic of Archer's blood. He simply lets it flow as he pulls back. Lets it stain his mouth as he grins, fingers finding purchase in his shirt. He breathes him in, the pulse nothing but a drumbeat in his ears.

Delighting in his laugh, Godric takes a moment to enjoy it before he pulls him into a bruising kiss. The memory of the faerie blood is almost gone, though it's replaced by this, and he wants this.

[anti_altruisms]

Archer deeply enjoys moments like these. He appreciates the softer things they do too, of course, but this is...more visceral. It makes him feel as though the heart beating in his chest is actually real, alive instead of just a magical core.

His hands slide down Godric's back, and even with his own blood smeared on the other's mouth, he crushes his own lips against Godric's all the same. He even licks and nips at the mess, like he can't get enough of it. These are the only times he feels anything like true passion, which is why he happily drags the other closer.

[loveisall]

It's easy to let himself go with Archer. He doesn't have to worry about hurting him; Archer kows how to tell him no. Godric trust that he'll say something if he's uncomfortable or wants to stop. But in the meantime, he can bite. He can push. He can be himself in this place that is safe.

And so he does.

He drags his fangs along Archer's lips and then to the other side of his neck where he breathes him in before trying to push him back, push him down, at least onto the couch, so he's not on his damn toes.

He'll apologize for the mess later.

[anti_altruisms]

As if he’d ever make Godric apologize for any mess. He knew what he was signing up for, taking a vampire for a partner, so there’s nothing to be sorry about.

His breath stutters a little as Godric’s fangs cut into his lips and jaw down to his throat. He licks at some of it, the wounds already beginning to close, and some part of him (the feral creature he knows he can be at times) itches to push back — to wrestle and fight over who’s going to dominate this little exchange. It takes some restraint (as it always does) to shove those impulses back down and allow Godric to nudge him back to the couch.

There’s a throw blanket there already (a quick projection, of course) just in case, though he expects Godric won’t let too much of his blood escape.

[loveisall]

He straddles his hips on the couch, knees on either side of him, hands on his shoulders as he presses back against him. The best part about this, about being with Archer, is that he can use his full strength without worry. He can do what he wants without worry.

Grinning, enjoying himself immensely, he runs his tongue along his skin and sits back, pulling off his shirt and casting it aside with no thought.

"Should I have called ahead?" he wonders, holding back a laugh, fingers spread against his chest.

[anti_altruisms]

Though he really does chafe a little at being maneuvered and pushed back, even Archer has to admit Godric makes an exceptionally lovely picture straddling his hips. Most people probably wouldn't find the sight of their own blood smeared on their lover's face to be attractive, but such is their relationship. It works for them, and he's happy.

Sneaking his arms around Godric's waist, Archer snorts a little, his mangled lip almost entirely healed before he responds. "And ruin the surprise?"

It's not like he can't take it, after all. His voice drops, a soft rumble almost.

"You know I like it, anyway."

[loveisall]

Normally, Godric is almost fastidiously clean. With anyone else he takes from, he never shows blood, never lets them see any spot of red on themselves if he can help it and certainly not on him. But this isn't the same. He hums, arms moving around his neck, hips hitching against his with a bit of a groan.

"Ruin the surprise," he repeats, pressing his forehead against Archer's as he starts to undress him. "And what a surprise it was."

He grins, showing his fangs, wanting him again. Wanting the blood, the bite, the sex, because it's all wrapped up in a nice Archer-shaped package. "I do love walking through the door so I can tear your throat out."

Which is a sentence he would never utter outside of this specific context, and that makes it delicious.

[anti_altruisms]

Both of them are exceptionally clean people when it comes right down to it. Clean and well put together, of course. It’s only in these moments when they’re alone, free to be all that they are that those neat layers are pulled back so the mess can spill out.

Shrugging off his shirt with Godric’s help, Archer grinds back shamelessly and can’t quite help a low, resonant laugh.

“Just my throat, hm?” Their noses nudged together, he slides his fingers along the intricate markings painting the other’s back. “You’re sure I can’t tempt you with a kidney?”