[Why must Figaro make this weird. Why is he making this weird. Gepard waits until they're up the stairs to respond, making some neutral non-committal noise, as if he's turning the questions in his head. "Will you take better care of it if it's named after me?" Hmm. "Cosmo is a good name!"
He waits until they get to the door to his apartment, and then looks at Figaro.]
Of course I would. If I don't take care of you, then you'll no doubt eat something [or someone] you shouldn't. It's a good name, and a good reminder.
[He's heading inside. Time to find a spot for this cactus.]
[Sampo follows him inside, closing the door behind him. It's warmer inside Gepard's apartment than out of it, and even blood-sucking creatures of the night prefer to be warm.]
Let's get Cosmo set up somewhere nice and sunny. He needs to have a lot of sunlight, or at least as much as you can get in Belobog!
[Which does leave something to be desired, admittedly. That's why most people on this planet have those UV lights that lets them produce enough vitamin D to stave off the vitamin deficiency depression. Can't let your little cactus get sad and die, Gepard.]
[Please take good care of me, then! A blush, and they're inside.]
I should get a new lamp for my plants. My current one is, well. [Figaro can see it for himself. Sad. Tragic. Old, and not in a good way. The sort of lamp that came with the apartment and would remain with the apartment, maybe die with the apartment. The cactus is, nevertheless, positioned under it, and Gepard stares at it stoically.]
I suppose I should water it, and then take care of you. If you need to be... [Um.] Fed.
[He's going for the watering can! He's going to drown Cosmo!]
[Since Gepard is only a paragon of the Preservation when it doesn't involve plants, Sampo clearly has to step in to save the poor cactus before it gets watered into an untimely grave.]
I'm sure it's fine! Vaska would've already watered it, so I doubt you need to so soon.
[Sampo touches Gepard's wrist, to stop him from moving any closer to the weapon of watery destruction. Step away from the watering can, Gepard, and no one will get hurt.]
Besides, I am a little peckish! [An understatement. Since he'd gotten a taste of the real deal, he'd been craving another bite. Even if Gepard isn't the tastiest juice box just yet, Sampo had gone weeks without a meal. Just one sip wasn't going to alleviate all of his hunger in one go.] Do you mind giving your pal a little snack?
[The touch on his wrist stops him and...] Oh. Yes. I promised that I'd take care of you.
[For whatever that means, and Gepard moves to take off his coat, his shirt, you know, things that might be in the way...but he hesitates, one button down. All of this is far more awkward than he had expected, going into this, but he made a promise and, by Qlipoth, he will live up to it.]
Would it... [He blushes, a dusty pink. There's really no good way of bringing up the subject.] Be more comfortable for you if I gave myself a wound you could drink from? [Cut himself, in other words.] I'd rather not, but also, I doubt you'd want to watch me act like that again.
[Writhing like a whore, all of that sort of thing.]
[Cosmo is saved, at least for another day. Gepard's dignity, however, is sacrificed, because he brings up that whole awkward boner thing from before. You know, that thing that they were both trying not to think about too much because neither of them think that the other would be interested in their boners.]
[Pink is a very attractive color on Gepard's face. It's really a shame that Sampo is under the impression that he's embarrassed purely because of the awkwardness of getting hard in polite company.]
Well. I don't want you to be uncomfortable! [Because Gepard had been very obviously uncomfortable after The Incident.] Maybe it won't be as bad if I don't bite you on the neck? Like on your arm or something. Necks are, you know. That kind of thing.
[An erogenous zone, and all. Normal people can get worked up by having their lover kiss and bite their throat without anything vampiric going on, but most people aren't getting hot and heavy over some wrist nibbling. So maybe going for the least erotic body part will keep Gepard from having such a prominent reaction.]
It's about your comfort, not mine. [And then he gets back to stubbornly stripping off his shirt, because regardless of where Figaro bites, blood stains and he only owns so many shirts. That's not even getting into how pristine white they tend to be. Getting blood out of them sucks.]
And regardless of where you bite, people will have questions if the same place is bandaged too many times.
[He's heading over to the couch, he's getting on the couch, he's going to settle in on the couch.] That won't be a problem now, but in the future- should I get a towel?
[Should he unsettle on the couch? Should he get up and grab a towel?]
Like I said, it's all water under the bridge to me. What's a boner or two between friends?
[Gepard starts removing his shirt, revealing a lot of very unfairly toned muscle. It's a shame, really. An excellent specimen of a man, going entirely unappreciated. Even if he's not the person that Gepard would want appreciating him, it's really mind-boggling that no one else has scooped him up yet. Handsome, strong, diligent, and sweet, and a captain to boot? He should have every pretty girl in Belobog jumping at the chance.]
Mm. Rotating spots is a good idea, it isn't good for you if I bite too many times in the same place. You need to heal up. [So changing spots is good practice anyway. And some spots are easier to conceal than others.]
I can eat neatly, especially from an arm or wrist. But if you'd rather have a towel anyway, be my guest! [He laughs.] I'm good at getting bloodstains out, too, trust me. I've had a lot of practice.
[Eating neatly is a learned skill, and he didn't always have it.]
[He settles back down on the couch, getting...comfortable, and Gepard belatedly wonders if he should get a blanket to hide his crotch. Just in case things go in a bad direction. But it's too late now.]
I trust you. [It's said simply, which unfortunately makes it sound deeper and more profound than just merely getting someone to chew on his wrist for a few minutes without making a mess. Gepard's oblivious to this. He just holds out an arm- not his dominant arm, no, the other one. He's also oblivious to what a shirtless man lounging on a couch holding out an arm to another person, while saying I trust you, might come across as. He's just focused on the feeding of Figaro part.]
[Well, at least Gepard is able to get comfortable on the couch, even when he's shirtless and offering his arm up for a guy to bite on it. And the way he says it, I trust you... he really doesn't know how much he's trusting Sampo with. As an Emanator, if he wanted to drain Gepard of every ounce of blood in his body, he could do it without much trouble. He could pin Gepard to that couch and get his teeth in his throat and take him for everything he's got, and, apparently, make him love every second of it.]
[Would he come before he lost consciousness from blood loss? Ugh, that's a weird thought. Put that on the list of things to never think about again.]
[Sampo walks over to him and takes the offered arm, and... it feels weird to join him on the couch, and he'd have to pull his arm to the side to get his teeth into it, so it seems easier to just kneel in front of him and go about it that way. With his arm angled downward, gravity will help with blood flow, too.]
I'll try to be quick.
[He bites down a few inches above the wrist, where he can see the faint blue line of a vein underneath his skin. Hot blood floods over his tongue again. He's only tasted Gepard twice before, but he thinks he's improving a little day by day-- a little less bitter, a little richer, more complex in profile. Like taking little sips of an aging wine from the cask, tasting how it improves over time. He makes a soft, unconscious noise as he swallows, relief at how each mouthful of blood soothes the aches inside of him. After spending so much time in a constant state of starvation, he'd forgotten what it felt like to have satisfaction.]
[He's too focused on eating neatly-- and the full body sensation of relief-- to think too much about the state of anything in the vicinity of Gepard's trousers.]
[It's nice, in a different way from before. Where before was an overwhelming flood, this is more like getting a handjob from someone that you liked, which isn't something that Gepard should be thinking about Figaro. He doesn't even know his name, not really, but here he is, feeling...nice. It's nice.
He bites his lip, trying to muffle his, uh, excitement, and then bites his free hand, watching as Figaro drinks from his arm. He can't see his face. Gepard doesn't know if it's better or worse that way, and he swallows down a sound that nearly escaped his lips. It's a muffled little thing.
Gepard shifts, half-rolling towards Figaro. He reaches out, runs his fingers through his hair like he's encouraging him while- don't think about that, he's not going to think about it.]
Take your time.
[His voice doesn't waver as much as it could. He's glad about that.]
[Gepard's hand is gentle when it runs through his hair, and Aeons it's been a long time since someone had touched him so kindly. Having to hide his vampiric habits really made a dent in his social life, so the only real touch that he'd gotten before Gepard were unconscious bodies that he held while he fed. That's not at all the same as this, the almost meditative stroke of Gepard's fingers. It's lovely. It's the best he's felt in what seems like ages, all because of the generosity and lack of self-preservation of one man.]
[He slows his pace, partly because Gepard told him to, partly because he wants to draw this out as long as possible. Drift a little longer in this blissful feeling, the taste of Gepard in his mouth. Was it always this good, when he had drank from people in the past? The victims of his night-time dinner runs never made him feel this way, but those had been quick, hurried affairs to gulp down what he needed to survive before anyone could find him. It's been years, not since he left the Tavern, that he'd gotten to savor anything...]
[When he finally withdraws his teeth from Gepard's wrist, it's to lick his skin clean-- don't waste a drop, Gepard's blood is more valuable to him than gold-- and then rest his head against the good Captain's knee, still holding onto his arm.]
[He might be tempted to stay there all day, if Gepard doesn't make him move first.]
[He rests for a while. Feels far longer than it had been, probably, him on the couch, Figaro with his arm, leaning against his knee. It's...nice, actually. Everything feels sweet and smooth, and he's content to lie there, just...resting. Resting together. For once, it doesn't matter what they are, it just matters that they're here, together.
All things end, of course. Gepard licks his lips. He should probably say something. He doesn't know what.]
I can make room if you want to come up here. [For some platonic cuddling, or...something, he doesn't know.]
[Sampo's body is already moving to obey before his brain really registers what Gepard has said; getting up from his kneeling position to join him on the couch, tucking in against his side. He's got good shoulders to rest Sampo's head on, and he's warm and the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes is hypnotic. What's a little platonic cuddling between friends, really?]
[He licks his lips, and the taste of Gepard's blood still lingers.]
We should wrap up your arm.
[He makes no indication of wanting to move to do that, though-- he'd much rather stay where he is, soaking in the warmth from Gepard's body.]
[He should be shoving Figaro off of him, bandage his arm, take care of business instead of whatever-this-is, but it's...it's nice. It's warm. He feels-
Trusted, of all things, and not because he's a Silvermane Guard captain, if anything in defiance of that, because of something else, and that- it's a nice feeling. Strange. But nice. He wraps one arm around Figaro as best as he can, a little stubbornly.]
I'll be fine. I've dealt with far worse wounds than a bite from you, Figaro. [...] You're less...bony than you were when we first met. [A bit more flesh to him, a little less gaunt.]
[Just as Gepard ought to be shoving Sampo off of him, Sampo really shouldn't be so... chummy with his people-flavored Capri Sun. Just because Gepard is being generous now, offering sustenance in lieu of throwing him in prison, doesn't mean that his generosity is unlimited. This should be a business transaction-- Gepard's blood in exchange for Sampo no longer needing to hunt and providing him with the meals that keep him palatable. Tit for tat.]
[He's warm. When his arm wraps around his side, pulling him in a little, Sampo turns his head towards Gepard and is rewarded with a nose full of his scent. Most people smell sort of vaguely appetizing to Sampo in the same way that frying up garlic and onion smells delicious without being something that you'd want to wear as a perfume, but Gepard... well, he does also smell like a tasty morsel. But there's also something else in it that slots just right in his brain, like a puzzle piece snapping into place.]
[It would be exceptionally weird of him to just shove his face into Gepard's neck and breathe, but it's really a near miss.]
Am I? [He's only had a few blood meals from Gepard, but two in a row is far more than he's used to getting.] I suppose you've fed me pretty regularly. It's more than I'd normally get.
I've noticed a difference. [He says, resisting the urge to shove his face into Figaro's hair and take a breath, but first, that would be weird. Second, he doesn't want to move. Gepard wants nothing more than to tangle his limbs in Figaro's own and take a nap, but that would probably be uncomfortable for him. Maybe. Probably. This is a business transaction, and they shouldn't be cuddling like this.
But they are. Gepard licks his lips and clears his throat.]
Figaro. You don't have to agree, but-
[What's the best way of phrasing this.]
In the future. [This is so awkward. Maybe he shouldn't ask- but he just starte- fuck it.] If I don't end up too worked up from your feeding, just, in general- maybe we could...do this after you're done? [Because he's turned on, but not impossibly so, not like the neck where he had to throw Figaro out so he could finish what he started in peace. Now it's more like...is he turned on, yes, does he have a boner that can drill through the core of Belobog and punch a hole into the underworld, no. It's manageable. Not impolite.]
[What's a little cuddling between friends? Or a shared nap, with tangled limbs and the weight of another person on your chest, like the comfort of a weighted blanket but better. Everything that the weighted blanket is supposed to simulate.]
[There's definite awkwardness to how Gepard suggests this, undoubtedly because of how the first feeding went, but... is it a bad idea? It's been a long time since Sampo had the opportunity to just exist with another person. He's already entrusted Gepard with his secret, so it's not like he has to worry about hiding it from him any more, or explaining any of the quirks of his lifestyle that someone would notice if they got close to him. Anyone else would eventually question why his pantries are always bare, why he never eats. There's no real risk to getting closer to Gepard, except for the apparent hazard of inopportune erections.]
[Sampo tips his head up to look at Gepard from where it rests on his shoulder.]
Yeah.
[He's sort of tangentially aware of the fact that Gepard has a boner, but it's more like the annoying involuntary erections that you'd get when you're a hormonal teenager rather than the raging, demanding hard-on that he'd gotten after the throat feeding. Easier to just ignore and allow to go away on its own, not something that requires immediate tending to lest it cause a very sticky and unpleasant conclusion.]
This is kind of nice. [Existing in someone else's space. Feeling the warmth of another person that isn't just those quick moments that he's getting a hasty, illegal meal.] You're comfy.
[He looks down as Figaro looks up and agrees, and it's uncomfortable for a different reason because part of Gepard says kiss the guy and the rest of him says wait, no, what? Where did that- what? Absolutely not what?
Anyway, he starts playing with Figaro's hair again, in a platonic sort of way, just reaching up and lacing his fingers through his hair and rubbing little circles in his scalp. As friends do.]
You're not. [It's a joke! A little bit of a joke.] You're kind of heavy, Figaro. But you- [smell nice absolutely not.] But you're not unpleasant.
[If Gepard weren't only interested in pretty Supreme Guardians-- or whatever kind of woman that guard captains aspired towards-- this might have been an opportune moment to angle for a kiss. Sure, Sampo usually didn't make a habit of getting that kind of friendly with his dinners, but Gepard's a bit of a special case in that regard, and he's handsome. Certainly wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, kissing his handsome blood donor. Considering what kind of man he is, Sampo's fairly certain that he'd be an absolutely lovely bed partner, very considerate and giving. Alas! Reserved for some lucky woman one day.]
[His fingers press against Sampo's scalp in soothing slow motions. Sampo could lay there all day, except that Gepard dares complain that he's heavy.]
Heavy! [He has a very trim figure, thank you very much. In protest, Sampo rolls more of his body weight onto Gepard, just flopping himself over onto him. He'll show you heavy.] Rude! Didn't anyone teach you not to comment on a girl's weight?
[Is he more or less not unpleasant when he's sprawled across your chest, Gepard?]
[Oof but then Figaro calls him rude and that startles a laugh out of Gepard, a little choked thing that he tries to muffle, but, no, he can't, he just has a little happy giggle.
What's also happy, but in a less good way, is Gepard's erection which shows no signs of going away because he's got a heterosexual sexy vampire sprawled across his chest, now. If anything, it's going in the opposite direction? It was hard, and now it feels a bit harder. And he should say, "Hey, Figaro, my erection is getting very distracting thanks to you, maybe we should call it a day so I can beat it out on my own."
But also, Gepard's got a sexy heterosexual vampire sprawled across his chest, and this doesn't happen so often? Is it really that bad to gaze at him and imagine a...let's just end this at a kiss. A kiss. Is it so bad to gaze at Figaro and imagine kissing him? Probably. But he's doing it anyway. Gazing at him. Imagining a kiss. Letting his fingers move from rubbing Figaro's scalp to rubbing the base of his neck.]
Heavy's heavy, Figaro. [Even if he's hugging Figaro. Even if he's got an erection he needs to do a bit more to ignore. It'll go away soon.]
[If Gepard really wanted to rid himself of the weight of a sexy vampire, he probably shouldn't have started rubbing his neck like that. Scalp scritches are a universally nice feeling, and so are neck rubs, so he's not actually doing anything to deter Sampo's behavior-- he's just rewarding it. Reinforcing the bad behavior. When this happens again, he has no one to blame but himself.]
[In further protest of being told that he's heavy, Sampo gets his arms around Gepard's waist to anchor himself in place. Just try to get rid of him now, golden boy, he's your problem.]
Endure it, then. You're a strong man. [He could probably sleep like this-- full, cuddled up with a warm man, having his neck rubbed. What a luxury.] Ah, and don't stop doing that... you have strong hands, too.
[His fingers don't stop. They keep on doing what it is they're doing, even though they shouldn't. Gepard likes the entire waist thing. It makes him shiver, a little, as he feels the grip around him. It's...nice. warm. Makes him feel needed, and not just professionally, not because he's a soldier.]
So I'm not only dinner, I'm your neck-rubber- your masseuse and pillow. I see where this is going, Figaro.
You’re a very good masseuse and pillow. I’d give you a stellar review!
[A+, excellent body pillow, would cuddle again. Would maybe spoon, if the opportunity arose, or even fork.]
[He closes his eyes. Gepard’s fingers haven’t stopped yet, and it’s really hard to resist the urge to just fall asleep on him. He’s warm and full and getting a totally platonic neck rub from a handsome man, who wouldn’t feel like taking a little nap in that situation?]
Are you trying to— [He interrupts himself with a yawn.] —put me to sleep? Because it’s working.
[And then his fingers...stop, they stop, just resting there, because Figaro raised a good point- kind of, that as much as he likes this, he also maybe shouldn't...indulge because...
Because of some reason or another. Because. Because it's a bad idea. Because it'll lead to more useless pining.]
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He waits until they get to the door to his apartment, and then looks at Figaro.]
Of course I would. If I don't take care of you, then you'll no doubt eat something [or someone] you shouldn't. It's a good name, and a good reminder.
[He's heading inside. Time to find a spot for this cactus.]
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[Sampo follows him inside, closing the door behind him. It's warmer inside Gepard's apartment than out of it, and even blood-sucking creatures of the night prefer to be warm.]
Let's get Cosmo set up somewhere nice and sunny. He needs to have a lot of sunlight, or at least as much as you can get in Belobog!
[Which does leave something to be desired, admittedly. That's why most people on this planet have those UV lights that lets them produce enough vitamin D to stave off the vitamin deficiency depression. Can't let your little cactus get sad and die, Gepard.]
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I should get a new lamp for my plants. My current one is, well. [Figaro can see it for himself. Sad. Tragic. Old, and not in a good way. The sort of lamp that came with the apartment and would remain with the apartment, maybe die with the apartment. The cactus is, nevertheless, positioned under it, and Gepard stares at it stoically.]
I suppose I should water it, and then take care of you. If you need to be... [Um.] Fed.
[He's going for the watering can! He's going to drown Cosmo!]
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[Since Gepard is only a paragon of the Preservation when it doesn't involve plants, Sampo clearly has to step in to save the poor cactus before it gets watered into an untimely grave.]
I'm sure it's fine! Vaska would've already watered it, so I doubt you need to so soon.
[Sampo touches Gepard's wrist, to stop him from moving any closer to the weapon of watery destruction. Step away from the watering can, Gepard, and no one will get hurt.]
Besides, I am a little peckish! [An understatement. Since he'd gotten a taste of the real deal, he'd been craving another bite. Even if Gepard isn't the tastiest juice box just yet, Sampo had gone weeks without a meal. Just one sip wasn't going to alleviate all of his hunger in one go.] Do you mind giving your pal a little snack?
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[For whatever that means, and Gepard moves to take off his coat, his shirt, you know, things that might be in the way...but he hesitates, one button down. All of this is far more awkward than he had expected, going into this, but he made a promise and, by Qlipoth, he will live up to it.]
Would it... [He blushes, a dusty pink. There's really no good way of bringing up the subject.] Be more comfortable for you if I gave myself a wound you could drink from? [Cut himself, in other words.] I'd rather not, but also, I doubt you'd want to watch me act like that again.
[Writhing like a whore, all of that sort of thing.]
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[Pink is a very attractive color on Gepard's face. It's really a shame that Sampo is under the impression that he's embarrassed purely because of the awkwardness of getting hard in polite company.]
Well. I don't want you to be uncomfortable! [Because Gepard had been very obviously uncomfortable after The Incident.] Maybe it won't be as bad if I don't bite you on the neck? Like on your arm or something. Necks are, you know. That kind of thing.
[An erogenous zone, and all. Normal people can get worked up by having their lover kiss and bite their throat without anything vampiric going on, but most people aren't getting hot and heavy over some wrist nibbling. So maybe going for the least erotic body part will keep Gepard from having such a prominent reaction.]
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It's about your comfort, not mine. [And then he gets back to stubbornly stripping off his shirt, because regardless of where Figaro bites, blood stains and he only owns so many shirts. That's not even getting into how pristine white they tend to be. Getting blood out of them sucks.]
And regardless of where you bite, people will have questions if the same place is bandaged too many times.
[He's heading over to the couch, he's getting on the couch, he's going to settle in on the couch.] That won't be a problem now, but in the future- should I get a towel?
[Should he unsettle on the couch? Should he get up and grab a towel?]
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[Gepard starts removing his shirt, revealing a lot of very unfairly toned muscle. It's a shame, really. An excellent specimen of a man, going entirely unappreciated. Even if he's not the person that Gepard would want appreciating him, it's really mind-boggling that no one else has scooped him up yet. Handsome, strong, diligent, and sweet, and a captain to boot? He should have every pretty girl in Belobog jumping at the chance.]
Mm. Rotating spots is a good idea, it isn't good for you if I bite too many times in the same place. You need to heal up. [So changing spots is good practice anyway. And some spots are easier to conceal than others.]
I can eat neatly, especially from an arm or wrist. But if you'd rather have a towel anyway, be my guest! [He laughs.] I'm good at getting bloodstains out, too, trust me. I've had a lot of practice.
[Eating neatly is a learned skill, and he didn't always have it.]
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I trust you. [It's said simply, which unfortunately makes it sound deeper and more profound than just merely getting someone to chew on his wrist for a few minutes without making a mess. Gepard's oblivious to this. He just holds out an arm- not his dominant arm, no, the other one. He's also oblivious to what a shirtless man lounging on a couch holding out an arm to another person, while saying I trust you, might come across as. He's just focused on the feeding of Figaro part.]
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[Would he come before he lost consciousness from blood loss? Ugh, that's a weird thought. Put that on the list of things to never think about again.]
[Sampo walks over to him and takes the offered arm, and... it feels weird to join him on the couch, and he'd have to pull his arm to the side to get his teeth into it, so it seems easier to just kneel in front of him and go about it that way. With his arm angled downward, gravity will help with blood flow, too.]
I'll try to be quick.
[He bites down a few inches above the wrist, where he can see the faint blue line of a vein underneath his skin. Hot blood floods over his tongue again. He's only tasted Gepard twice before, but he thinks he's improving a little day by day-- a little less bitter, a little richer, more complex in profile. Like taking little sips of an aging wine from the cask, tasting how it improves over time. He makes a soft, unconscious noise as he swallows, relief at how each mouthful of blood soothes the aches inside of him. After spending so much time in a constant state of starvation, he'd forgotten what it felt like to have satisfaction.]
[He's too focused on eating neatly-- and the full body sensation of relief-- to think too much about the state of anything in the vicinity of Gepard's trousers.]
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He bites his lip, trying to muffle his, uh, excitement, and then bites his free hand, watching as Figaro drinks from his arm. He can't see his face. Gepard doesn't know if it's better or worse that way, and he swallows down a sound that nearly escaped his lips. It's a muffled little thing.
Gepard shifts, half-rolling towards Figaro. He reaches out, runs his fingers through his hair like he's encouraging him while- don't think about that, he's not going to think about it.]
Take your time.
[His voice doesn't waver as much as it could. He's glad about that.]
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[He slows his pace, partly because Gepard told him to, partly because he wants to draw this out as long as possible. Drift a little longer in this blissful feeling, the taste of Gepard in his mouth. Was it always this good, when he had drank from people in the past? The victims of his night-time dinner runs never made him feel this way, but those had been quick, hurried affairs to gulp down what he needed to survive before anyone could find him. It's been years, not since he left the Tavern, that he'd gotten to savor anything...]
[When he finally withdraws his teeth from Gepard's wrist, it's to lick his skin clean-- don't waste a drop, Gepard's blood is more valuable to him than gold-- and then rest his head against the good Captain's knee, still holding onto his arm.]
[He might be tempted to stay there all day, if Gepard doesn't make him move first.]
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All things end, of course. Gepard licks his lips. He should probably say something. He doesn't know what.]
I can make room if you want to come up here. [For some platonic cuddling, or...something, he doesn't know.]
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[He licks his lips, and the taste of Gepard's blood still lingers.]
We should wrap up your arm.
[He makes no indication of wanting to move to do that, though-- he'd much rather stay where he is, soaking in the warmth from Gepard's body.]
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Trusted, of all things, and not because he's a Silvermane Guard captain, if anything in defiance of that, because of something else, and that- it's a nice feeling. Strange. But nice. He wraps one arm around Figaro as best as he can, a little stubbornly.]
I'll be fine. I've dealt with far worse wounds than a bite from you, Figaro. [...] You're less...bony than you were when we first met. [A bit more flesh to him, a little less gaunt.]
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[He's warm. When his arm wraps around his side, pulling him in a little, Sampo turns his head towards Gepard and is rewarded with a nose full of his scent. Most people smell sort of vaguely appetizing to Sampo in the same way that frying up garlic and onion smells delicious without being something that you'd want to wear as a perfume, but Gepard... well, he does also smell like a tasty morsel. But there's also something else in it that slots just right in his brain, like a puzzle piece snapping into place.]
[It would be exceptionally weird of him to just shove his face into Gepard's neck and breathe, but it's really a near miss.]
Am I? [He's only had a few blood meals from Gepard, but two in a row is far more than he's used to getting.] I suppose you've fed me pretty regularly. It's more than I'd normally get.
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But they are. Gepard licks his lips and clears his throat.]
Figaro. You don't have to agree, but-
[What's the best way of phrasing this.]
In the future. [This is so awkward. Maybe he shouldn't ask- but he just starte- fuck it.] If I don't end up too worked up from your feeding, just, in general- maybe we could...do this after you're done? [Because he's turned on, but not impossibly so, not like the neck where he had to throw Figaro out so he could finish what he started in peace. Now it's more like...is he turned on, yes, does he have a boner that can drill through the core of Belobog and punch a hole into the underworld, no. It's manageable. Not impolite.]
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[There's definite awkwardness to how Gepard suggests this, undoubtedly because of how the first feeding went, but... is it a bad idea? It's been a long time since Sampo had the opportunity to just exist with another person. He's already entrusted Gepard with his secret, so it's not like he has to worry about hiding it from him any more, or explaining any of the quirks of his lifestyle that someone would notice if they got close to him. Anyone else would eventually question why his pantries are always bare, why he never eats. There's no real risk to getting closer to Gepard, except for the apparent hazard of inopportune erections.]
[Sampo tips his head up to look at Gepard from where it rests on his shoulder.]
Yeah.
[He's sort of tangentially aware of the fact that Gepard has a boner, but it's more like the annoying involuntary erections that you'd get when you're a hormonal teenager rather than the raging, demanding hard-on that he'd gotten after the throat feeding. Easier to just ignore and allow to go away on its own, not something that requires immediate tending to lest it cause a very sticky and unpleasant conclusion.]
This is kind of nice. [Existing in someone else's space. Feeling the warmth of another person that isn't just those quick moments that he's getting a hasty, illegal meal.] You're comfy.
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Anyway, he starts playing with Figaro's hair again, in a platonic sort of way, just reaching up and lacing his fingers through his hair and rubbing little circles in his scalp. As friends do.]
You're not. [It's a joke! A little bit of a joke.] You're kind of heavy, Figaro. But you- [smell nice absolutely not.] But you're not unpleasant.
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[His fingers press against Sampo's scalp in soothing slow motions. Sampo could lay there all day, except that Gepard dares complain that he's heavy.]
Heavy! [He has a very trim figure, thank you very much. In protest, Sampo rolls more of his body weight onto Gepard, just flopping himself over onto him. He'll show you heavy.] Rude! Didn't anyone teach you not to comment on a girl's weight?
[Is he more or less not unpleasant when he's sprawled across your chest, Gepard?]
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What's also happy, but in a less good way, is Gepard's erection which shows no signs of going away because he's got a heterosexual sexy vampire sprawled across his chest, now. If anything, it's going in the opposite direction? It was hard, and now it feels a bit harder. And he should say, "Hey, Figaro, my erection is getting very distracting thanks to you, maybe we should call it a day so I can beat it out on my own."
But also, Gepard's got a sexy heterosexual vampire sprawled across his chest, and this doesn't happen so often? Is it really that bad to gaze at him and imagine a...let's just end this at a kiss. A kiss. Is it so bad to gaze at Figaro and imagine kissing him? Probably. But he's doing it anyway. Gazing at him. Imagining a kiss. Letting his fingers move from rubbing Figaro's scalp to rubbing the base of his neck.]
Heavy's heavy, Figaro. [Even if he's hugging Figaro. Even if he's got an erection he needs to do a bit more to ignore. It'll go away soon.]
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[In further protest of being told that he's heavy, Sampo gets his arms around Gepard's waist to anchor himself in place. Just try to get rid of him now, golden boy, he's your problem.]
Endure it, then. You're a strong man. [He could probably sleep like this-- full, cuddled up with a warm man, having his neck rubbed. What a luxury.] Ah, and don't stop doing that... you have strong hands, too.
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So I'm not only dinner, I'm your neck-rubber- your masseuse and pillow. I see where this is going, Figaro.
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[A+, excellent body pillow, would cuddle again. Would maybe spoon, if the opportunity arose, or even fork.]
[He closes his eyes. Gepard’s fingers haven’t stopped yet, and it’s really hard to resist the urge to just fall asleep on him. He’s warm and full and getting a totally platonic neck rub from a handsome man, who wouldn’t feel like taking a little nap in that situation?]
Are you trying to— [He interrupts himself with a yawn.] —put me to sleep? Because it’s working.
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Because of some reason or another. Because. Because it's a bad idea. Because it'll lead to more useless pining.]
Should I be sending you on your way?
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