NATE
Brows lift in quiet consideration, Nate weighing the words and letting his eye drag over Locke’s chest for a long moment before he nods. “You do seem the type.” There’s no time to consider whether that’s a good thing or not as Nate moves on, letting out a smug chuckle at the sound the other man makes, impossible to miss with his hearing. “Do you think you caught me in a good mood?” He purrs warmly, voice dripping with honeyed heat.
“Well I know for a fucking fact it isn’t my winning personality or my handsome face.” The words ring with some choked back bitterness, those fangs on display in a grin so wide it almost hides the scar spanning his face. Shaking his head, Nate leads them into the back room, gestures at the cabinet and lets Locke work. Flip flops on a decision while he waits, and finds it made absolutely by the closeness of the accepted, never mind his words.
For a long, serious moment, Nate stares unblinking at the other man, gaze intense and feral and hungry, and not in the fun way. But it breaks after a moment, after just long enough that he’s sure he’s psyched out the other, a laugh spilling from him. “Nah, I don’t do murder anymore.” Nate laughs, licking his lips as the space between them closes. As he steps forward to close it just a little bit more. “Besides.” His hand comes up, settling heavily on Locke’s shoulder, pulling him those last few inches closer. There’s barely an inch of height between them, but Nate holds himself in a way that seems to make him tower over the other man. “There’s easier ways to get my kicks.”
No sooner do the words leave his mouth than Nate is moving, his leg pressing in between Locke’s while he twists them, pressing the other man into the bed behind them and leaning over him. Nate pants more for show, his words utterly unaffected by the exertion. “Like this.” Its the only warning Locke will get before teeth sink into his neck, bringing with them electric pleasure and Nate’s roaming hands.
“Well I know for a fucking fact it isn’t my winning personality or my handsome face.” The words ring with some choked back bitterness, those fangs on display in a grin so wide it almost hides the scar spanning his face. Shaking his head, Nate leads them into the back room, gestures at the cabinet and lets Locke work. Flip flops on a decision while he waits, and finds it made absolutely by the closeness of the accepted, never mind his words.
For a long, serious moment, Nate stares unblinking at the other man, gaze intense and feral and hungry, and not in the fun way. But it breaks after a moment, after just long enough that he’s sure he’s psyched out the other, a laugh spilling from him. “Nah, I don’t do murder anymore.” Nate laughs, licking his lips as the space between them closes. As he steps forward to close it just a little bit more. “Besides.” His hand comes up, settling heavily on Locke’s shoulder, pulling him those last few inches closer. There’s barely an inch of height between them, but Nate holds himself in a way that seems to make him tower over the other man. “There’s easier ways to get my kicks.”
No sooner do the words leave his mouth than Nate is moving, his leg pressing in between Locke’s while he twists them, pressing the other man into the bed behind them and leaning over him. Nate pants more for show, his words utterly unaffected by the exertion. “Like this.” Its the only warning Locke will get before teeth sink into his neck, bringing with them electric pleasure and Nate’s roaming hands.
The streets are only empty when I need someoneThere's nothing to see here, move along!
