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Okay but Scud was about to fucking unload a sundog into the next fucker to reference his ass in relation to someone elses dick.
Fuck sake, you take it from one guy and suddenly you've fucked the whole town. Made a whole lot of sense, oh definitely.
Not?
"Look I'm just saying you look like you've been around," the fledgling, the name of which Scud didn't give two shits about remembering, was taunting them. They were in a public location, exposure high and the only reason they were in this mess to begin with was because Joshua Fucking Frohmeyer was shitty at hunting. This was a fact Deacon made certain to remind him of at least three times a week.
Fuckass.
Scud made to slide gracefully out of his seat, prepared to shove something shiny and sharp in this douchebag's gut, but was stopped short by Frost's arm across his chest, a look of cold reprimand gluing Scud midway between standing and sitting. A light push of that cold hand and Josh sat right the fuck back down while his sire dropped his arm long enough to light another cigarette.
Alas, it lasted about a drag before mister uppity decided to keep running his fucking mouth.
"Yeah, tighten the leash on your bitch, Frost."
Within the next second there was a cigarette jammed into the youngblood's eye and Frost's fist had connected soundly with his teeth, satisfyingly knocking at least one of his fangs out. Getting out of the bar before the cops showed up was an entirely different story, and one that Scud would laugh about for days to come before Deacon drowned the memory in booze, weed, and sex. Mostly the latter, especially so.
By the time they even made it back to Frost's building, Scud was having a damn hard time keeping his hands off the man because fuck if that alpha male shit didn't turn him on. Like a damn switch. He couldn't remember how long it took to get to this place in their relationship. One day he'd been some familiar, a scrap of paper in a massive scheme, and the next he'd been dead. Sort of, obviously he was still alive but so very much dead.
"Fuck, let me get the fucking key in the damn door," Deacon hissed because Scud was too busy being pressed up against said door, held firm by the solid weight of Deacon's body. He still never quite grasped how the man could be so damn lean and yet so fucking strong. H o t.
When the door swung open, Frost soundly caught him before he could lose balance, and just as quickly shoved him into the suite before the door slammed shut behind them and then the game was on. Scud knew that look, and it never failed to make his clothes magically disappear within the time it took them to stumble from the front door to the nearest comfortable surface.
Today they were too fucking impatient for even that, apparently, because Scud found himself pressed up against the nearest wall, stomach pressed flat to the surface with Frost fitted so perfectly against his back, fingers working smoothly at his belt and the fastenings to his jeans. Scud whined when the weight against his back vanished just as Frost got his pants down just to his knees, but the whine turned into something low and animalistic when cold fingers spread his ass cheeks apart and what he was two hundred percent certain was a tongue lapped at his hole with all the grace that nobody should ever have when casually rimming someone against a fucking wall.
Life simply wasn't fair.
The only thing that kept him standing while Frost worked him open with a combination of his tongue and fingers was the very certain promise that if he let his legs give out, it would certainly interrupt whatever Deacon was doing with his mouth and-
"Holy fuuuu~ck," he groaned out against the wall, hips giving aborted thrusts in an attempt to gain some friction on his very much ignored erection, but the firm grasp of Deacon's free hand on his hip kept him perfectly still.
It was absolute paradise.
A paradise abandoned for something far better when Frost stood up, molding himself against his fledgling's back with a nip to the ear, nosing at that perpetual bedhead that seemed to be Scud as he undid his own slacks to free his cock, line up, and fuck slowly into the younger vampire with a hiss of well deserved satisfaction.
Scud made a noise that he would never, ever admit to.
It was the perfect balance of tight pain and blissed pleasure, just how Frost knew Scud loved it.
He was given no time to adjust, because he preferred it that way and because Deacon had issues controlling his more animalistic urges. Not that he ever tried; he simply wouldn't be Frost if he weren't just on the right balance of wild instinct and dangerous control. The pressure was perfect and Scud made no attempt to stifle the dirty moans and toxic coaxings in order to get the elder to go a little bit faster, thrust a little bit harder, until he was all but fucking the fledgling into the wall, held up only by Deacon's sexual vigilance and that just fucking annoyed Scud to no end.
The man never unwound, always in control despite that ever bristling wild side that leapt out on a hair trigger.
Scud reached back with a hand to dig his fingers into that ridiculously messy hair -how either of them ever passed off as professional in any situation was beyond him- and forcibly position Deacon's lips against his neck, which Scud generously bared in order to tempt him further. Frost snarled and bared his teeth, canines scraping harmlessly against Scud's flesh but sometimes the animal in Frost just needed a little nudge, even while he was fucking his partner hard and fast into an uncomfortable surface.
Scud's fingers tightened in Frost's hair and he pulled, growling in the same syllable as a short, cut off moan when Deacon finally sank his teeth into the flesh of Scud's shoulder. Josh came hard then and there, a choked off sound garbled from his throat while Frost turned into a pure animal fucking his bitch in heat, no longer concerned for his partner's pleasure. Scud became little more than a toy for his sire while the elder vampire fucked towards his orgasm, fingers digging sharply into Scud's hips and his teeth buried in the fledgling's shoulder under his hips stuttered jerkily to a firm stop while he came, letting out a shaky breath against Scud's bloodied skin.
Several 'fuck's and 'holy shit's later and they'd managed to stumble their way to the bedroom, squinting with hatred at the bleach white walls until they could get the coffin shut and cast them into sweet darkness.
And they'd still forgotten dinner.
Again.