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The club is dark and smoky, the sound of jazz playing hazy in the background. Just the kind of place Tommy's in the mood for.
Tumbler of whiskey in hand, he scans the room. His eyes skate over a cluster of women at the end of the bar, the table of twenty-something men sitting at the table by the stage. On his second pass of the room, he sees the solitary man leaning against the wall, blending into the shadow just enough to entice Tommy closer.
He's intrigued. Wants to know this guy's name, his story.
Then the stranger smiles, dark and sexy and full of unholy promise, and, fuck, Tommy's dick twitches and mouth waters, and things just got interesting.
He steps into the stranger's space, close enough to smell his cologne and the tang of red wine on his breath. Canting his head to the side, he says, "You're new."
"Not really." The guy flashes a grin, one that screams Tommy's missing some key piece of information. "Just been a while." He holds out a hand and says, "Adam."
"Tommy." He drops the hand quickly, too fast to be polite. But the dude's skin is chilled, too cold to comfortable.
Adam cants his head back, opens his mouth just so, and the light catches on his… fangs.
"Holy, fuck…" Tommy reaches out, wants to skim the pad of his thumb across the sharp point. Wants to know if they're real, or those bullshit plastic things people pop in for Halloween.
The slightest touch and blood wells.
And all Tommy can think is fuck, fuck, vampire, fuck… Looking at his thumb, at the streak of red standing out bright against his pale skin, he murmurs, "Yeah, fuck."
"Is that an invitation?"
Tommy smirks. "Not for here."
"No." Adam looks around the club. "Definitely not here."
Setting his whiskey on an empty table, Tommy hooks a finger around Adam's wrist, his very fucking cold wrist. "Come on, man. Shitty apartment within walking distance."
"Will there be an invitation, Tommy?"
There's gonna be a whole lot more than an invitation, Tommy thinks. He's heard about the bang on sex with vampires. Thought everyone was full of shit and just too drunk to really know who they'd been fucking. Tightening his grip, he says, "Yeah, open door policy."
They step out into the night and Tommy stops, loosens his grip on Adam's wrist and steps back. Because, really, that's some hokey shit right there.
"Tommy?"
Tommy shakes his head, blinks once and then once again. He wonders just what the hell was in that damn whiskey, because, seriously, Adam is standing beneath a streetlight and he's fucking sparkling.
A tide of what the fuck and hell, no and christ on a cracker, you have got to be fucking me swells within him. And he goes from hot and wanting to calling bullshit in 3.5 seconds flat.
"You're sparkling. What the fuck, dude?" And if this shit is real, if Adam isn't pretending, is really a goddamn vampire and he fucking sparkles Tommy is going to owe a shitload of people a goddamn apology.
And he's never watching another horror flick again. Goddammit.
Adam tips his head back and laughs. A deep rolling sound of pure amusement. Reaching out, he wraps a hand around Tommy's waist and reels him in. Nuzzling Tommy's neck, he whispers, "Glitter. Nothing more than glitter, baby."
/silliness