No Other Lover

Rolling his eyes, Ford was sure he'd be blushing if he'd fed recently. Instead he just felt embarrassed. Makoto had said similar things while he'd been alive, but he was even freer with his compliments now and if he wasn't careful Ford felt like his ego might inflate and explode from how often Makoto made him feel special and beautiful and perfect.

Makoto's small smile widened into a fang-baring grin at Ford's reaction, which was part of the reason he said the things he did. He loved the embarrassed look on Ford's face, something that was evident even without the ability to blush deliciously like he had when he'd been human.

"You're still staring, creeper," Ford said again, his eyes closed once more. He'd been an ungracious riser before eight in the morning when he'd been alive, and he was just as ungracious rising at night now that he was a vampire. He liked snuggling into warm covers -- and a not-so-warm Makoto -- for as long as he could before he had to get up.

"I'll stop staring when you stop being gorgeous," Makoto replied, leaning down and pressing his mouth to Ford's briefly, keeping his teeth carefully behind closed lips. "Now get up and go shower and brush your teeth. You have work to do tonight. One of the boys came by a little while ago to let me know that they found McKay. He's planning on running."

Ford let out a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and sighed before sitting up and running both hands through soft and almost white-blond hair. Rolling gracefully out of bed, he paused once he was standing in order to look down at where Makoto was lounging indolently and like he owned the whole mattress. It made him want to skip showering -- and work -- and just climb back into bed and all over Makoto.

"Later, Ford," Makoto said, grinning as he read the other man's thoughts as if they were printed on his face -- which they might as well have been. Even as a vampire Ford still hadn't been able to learn to keep his thoughts out of expressive blue eyes. "Work first, play after."

Grumbling under his breath about workaholic old guys, Ford did as he was told though and went to get ready to kick ass.

By the time he was showered and dressed in his customary three-pieced suit, Makoto had made the bed and left the room. Making his way downstairs, Ford allowed his gaze to roam over Makoto when he saw him standing in the hallway, loving the way the other man looked in even a simple pair of jeans and plain t-shirt.

The jeans, while not obscenely tight, managed to hug the curve of the other man's ass and stretch deliciously tight over muscular thighs. The plain white shirt did nothing to hide the strong body toned from years of hard labour and fighting, and Ford, as always, found his eyes drawn to the tribal tattoo that peeked out from under one sleeve. It was such a tease when Ford knew that that tattoo covered not just Makoto's bicep but the whole left half of his upper body from shoulder to waist, front and back.

There were few things Ford loved more when they were in bed than tracing the lines of ink with his fingers and tongue, loving the way Makoto's eyes went dark with lust when he did so.

"Later," Makoto stressed, catching Ford's gaze, amused at how easily distracted Ford was tonight.

Ford pouted at that and sighed, bending down to tug on his shoes before straightening and pulling on his jacket, enjoying the way Makoto's eyes followed his movements. It made him more than a little smug when the older man looked at him like that. To know that someone who was hundreds of years old and who'd probably been with a decent amount of people found him so attractive... it was definitely a healthy boost to his ego.

"Later," he said, echoing back Makoto's words as he buttoned his jacket and gave Makoto a look before preceding him out the door, enjoying the knowledge that his lover was probably staring at his ass as he made his way to the car.

Sliding into the back seat, he waited for Makoto to join him before giving directions to the driver, sitting back and getting comfortable as the car pulled away from the curb smoothly.

The drive was quiet. Neither Ford nor Makoto spoke, the air between them comfortable but crackling underneath the surface with sexual tension. They were professionals though, and both of them knew that they would do nothing to distract themselves or each other when it could be a risk to their lives.

Pulling up just down the street from their potential-runner's flat, Makoto and Ford slipped gracefully from the car, Ford speaking to the driver just before shutting the door. "Come back in eight minutes. Don't stay in the neighbourhood."

The driver nodded and Ford shut the door, watching for a heartbeat or two as the sleek black car drove off before turning back to face Makoto and jerking his head in the direction of the building they were going into. "Let's go then."

Makoto nodded and fell into step beside him, a bit amused that despite the hour, there were so few people on the streets. A small part of him wondered if someone had tipped the man off and if they were going to be disappointed when they got to his flat. Pushing those unhelpful thoughts away, he walked evenly beside Ford, stepping into the derelict building that supposedly housed the man they were looking for.

"Number three-oh-six," Ford said softly before Makoto could ask, heading straight for the dimly lit stairwell instead of the elevator. The last thing he wanted was for his runner to try and slip out of the building and avoid him before he'd even had a chance to 'talk' to him.

Standing on either side of the doorframe while they knocked -- bullets wouldn't kill them but they would hurt like hell, and Ford's outfit would be ruined (which might kill someone) Makoto's dark eyes met Ford's own blue ones as they waited, wondering if the man was going to be dumb and open the door.

At the sounds of a chain sliding into place and a deadbolt unlocking, they had their answer. Ford struggled not to laugh, but his amusement at the man's stupidity sparkled in his eyes and made Makoto want to shirk their duties for once and drag him to the nearest wall or stairwell and fuck him blind. Nothing was more beautiful to him than when Ford was happy.

"Later," Ford mouthed with a wider grin even as the door to the flat opened. The jangle of the chain lock was instantly muffled when Ford snapped a hand up and grabbed at it, ripping it out of the wall and the door as he and Makoto pushed their way inside.

Makoto grabbed the skinny little weasel of a man around the throat with one large hand even as he kicked the door shut behind him, enjoying the rich scent of fear that flared up as the man looked at him with wide eyes.

"You owe me a lot of money," Ford said genially and without any preamble even as he looked around the rather dingy flat like his lover wasn't holding the man by the throat, preventing any answers he might have given. "I've been very patient. I even gave you two extensions... but the heart of the matter is... you tried to cut and run. And I don't like that."

Makoto shifted his grip to the man's wrists, locking his arms behind his back and wrapping one arm across his throat just loose enough so he could speak but tight enough to keep him in place and prevent him from trying to head-butt his way to freedom.

Ford turned on his heel to stare at the gambler, blue eyes narrowed and white-blond hair spiky -- the only part of his appearance that refused to allow itself to be perfectly groomed. "We run a gambling ring. The odds are already against you when you come in the doors, which means you really should expect to lose your money, so try and do it with some grace, please."

"I... I have some of it," the man replied, swallowing nervously and almost audibly.

One of Ford's blond eyebrows arched at that little bit of information. Closing the space between them he trailed one delicate claw down the man's cheek with just enough pressure to raise a thin line of blood. "Are you lying to me?" he murmured, voice dark and dangerous.

With no room to shake his head without slicing his face open on the sharp nail still pressed to his face, the man stuttered and fumbled for a verbal reply. "N-n-no, s-sir. I h-have almost twuh-twelve th-thousand."

That was only close to half of the twenty-five thousand pounds that he owed them, but Ford knew he wouldn't get anymore out of a man like this. "And you were going to run away with it?" he asked, voice deceptively sweet as he smiled at the trembling man. "You were going to leave town with my money?" Unable to lie to his face, Ford could read the truth in the man's eyes.

"Where's my money?" he asked, dropping any pretense and stepping away from the man, straightening his suit jacket, and smoothing an invisible wrinkle from the front of it with the palm of one hand even as he turned his eyes back to the captive gambler. "The faster you answer the more likely I am to only hurt you instead of kill you," he pointed out.

"It... it's in th-the fuh-freezer..."

"Good boy," Ford purred, stalking over to the freezer and stilling with his hand on the handle for a moment as he sniffed lightly at the outside of the door for any sign of gunpowder or other explosives, not trusting this rat as far as he could throw him.

"Clean," he said to himself, tugging the freezer door open and reaching in to take out the plastic wrapped block of frozen cash. It was cold against his sensitive skin and he frowned, grabbing a dingy tea towel reluctantly and wrapping it up before tossing it to Makoto who caught it easily while at the same time pushing the unlucky cheat towards him.

Catching him with one hand once more around his throat, Ford brought his other hand up to grab at the man's hair, yanking his head back and enjoying the whimper of pain the man made.

"B-but, you... you p-promised," the man blubbered, finally losing his cool and breaking down, tears wetting the skin of his face and causing Ford's nose to wrinkle almost involuntarily at the thick scent of salt.

"I said I wouldn't kill you," Ford reminded him, speaking slowly as if to a child. He hated this part. There was nothing worse than trying to explain to them the semantics of how they were going to be hurt. It was a waste of his time, especially when he was still going to hurt them. "You stole from me. Ah ah ah..." he shushed the man when he struggled to protest.

"You may not have walked into my home and taken things directly from me, but you owed me money and you tried to run away from that, which is as close to stealing from me as you can get," Ford explained.

In the beginning, Ford had hated feeding in front of Makoto and he'd hated watching the older man feed. It had twisted something inside of him to know that he could no longer fulfill that need for the other vampire and it was like dying all over again.

Eventually though, he had become more accustomed to both watching and feeding in front of his lover, and now he thought nothing of sinking his teeth into the runner's smooth neck, mouth filling with the sharp flavours of fear and panic and the tiniest undercurrent of lust.

It never stopped amazing him that even when they were panicking, freaking out about the thought that someone, something was drinking their blood, most of his victims still found the time to be turned on by the act itself. As he drank, Ford absently wondered if it was because of the glorification of the vampire race in the media, or if more criminals just got off on being hurt.

Tossing the man aside the instant his belly was full and he could hear the man's pulse slowing, Ford licked the lingering blood from his lips even as he turned his brilliant blue gaze towards Makoto.

"Heal his wound, baby," Makoto reminded him from where he was leaning almost indolently against the wall, frozen block of money in hand. He knew Ford didn't really need reminding, but he also knew that sometimes Ford was sorely tempted to leave their runners bleeding, to let them watch their own lives ooze across the floor until they died.

Huffing softly, Ford considered for a moment disobeying the command. He knew it was foolish though. Not only would the marks give them away, one more unnecessary corpse would put their business in trouble and that wasn't prudent or intelligent at all, two things he always prided himself on being when all else failed.

Crouching down beside the now weakly sobbing runner, the sharp scent of urine reaching his nose, Ford made a bit of a face as he leaned in and licked diligently at the bloody holes until nothing was left but a dark bruise the size of a hickey.

Getting to his feet and backing away as quickly as he could from the rancid smell, Ford accepted Makoto's arm around his waist silently as they made their way out of the flat and down the hall, hurrying towards the stairwell they'd come up and making their way back down to the lobby and out of the flat.

They had finished just under the eight minute timeline that Ford had given his driver so they began to stroll down the street lazily, knowing the car would pull alongside them as soon as it returned to the neighbourhood.

It was asking for trouble to leave a car parked outside while you were doing a job. Neighbours were nosy and observant in places like this, and the last thing they ever needed was someone taking note of a high end car that lingered a little too long.

It was less than a minute before the car appeared and they slid into the backseat, Makoto tucking the wrapped money into a hidey hole built under the bench-like limo seats. There was always a danger of being pulled over by police and nothing said 'criminal activity' like a massive block of frozen cash.

"You are naughty," Makoto said to Ford the instant the car pulled away from the curb and drifted slowly into traffic. Looking at Ford sprawled along the seat, the picture of decadent elegance, Makoto wanted to forgo any sort of pleasantries and just take Ford hard and fast in the back of the car like they were horny teenagers instead of the grown men they both were, himself well past any age of adolescence.

"I know," Ford replied from where he was sprawled on rich leather seats, a lazy smirk on full lips as he fiddled with his tie and the buttons of his waistcoat, jacket long undone.

"Exhibitionist as well," Makoto grumbled, but it was put upon, and he could feel that spike of lust, that pull to touch Ford growing stronger as he watched the other man through low-lidded dark eyes even as he shifted on his seat enough to reach the partition window and press the button to raise it, giving them a little more privacy.

"Yeah," Ford agreed, resisting the urge he had to squirm where he sat, Makoto's hot gaze enough to make him hard already without a single touch to his skin. Loosening his tie and pulling it off, he undid the top few buttons of the shirt underneath and watched with amusement when Makoto's eyes dropped to the v of bared skin, soft and pale, that was now exposed.

Makoto was on him in an instant, hands warm and heavy, mouth hot on his as they kissed, teeth sharp and nicking each other's lips and tongues until their mouths were slick bloody messes and they had to pull back for air.

The sight of Makoto's mouth red with blood in a garish faux-lipstick display had laughter bubbling up in Ford's throat even as he wanted to lean in and lick it clean. In the end the latter urge won, and he climbed into the older man's lap, hands steadying himself on Makoto's shoulders as he leaned in to lap at streaks and smears of blood all over the other vampire's mouth, a soft rumbling purr starting in the back of his throat.

"Little kitty," Makoto said with a small laugh, words partially muffled by Ford's tongue as he cleaned them both up.

"Hardly little," Ford replied with a breathless laugh of his own as he sat back on Makoto's thighs, licking his own lips clean even as Makoto's undid his vest and tossed it aside, tugging his shirt from the waistband of his pants and sliding rough hands up against his skin.

"Smaller than me," Makoto pointed out smugly, an expression that widened into a grin when Ford pouted spectacularly. Mouth still wide in a smile, Makoto tugged Ford forward, kissing those pouty lips and murmuring softly against them. "Just the right size for me..."

"Charmer," Ford replied, pressing back in for another kiss and quickly turning the mood back to frantic as he rolled his hips forward into Makoto's, nipping at the older vampire's lips with sharp and delicate teeth on purpose this time, lapping at the beads of blood that welled up.

"Hmm... earlier I was a creeper, glad to see I've improved," Makoto said softly, laughter in his voice as he pushed Ford's shirt off of him, adding to the pile of clothes growing on the floor of the limo and enjoying the view that Ford's naked torso afforded him.

"Just imagine what you'll be when we're done here," Ford said with a grin, licking his own lips and ignoring the small flashes of pain as his tongue caught on the sharp points of his fangs.

"Mmm... satisfied," Makoto responded, slipping his hand under the waistband of Ford's pants, the tips of his fingers and sharp claws brushing against the soft damp head of Ford's cock, pre-come wetting his skin.

Ford squirmed in Makoto's lap at the delicate touch, a soft little noise escaping his mouth at the feeling. Ever since being turned, he'd become even more amenable to a touch of pain in association with his sex. The feeling of Makoto's claws on his skin made his blood run hotter, his body growing harder at the thought of that pain in connection with the sex.

"You really want it here?" Makoto asked, curling his hand around his lover's cock, giving it a slow teasing stroke even as he was careful of the sharpness of his nails. "You want me to fuck you in a moving car? How naughty... You're lucky that the windows are tinted or everyone would be watching you."

"Makoto..." It was rare to hear Ford whine, but the way he said the older man's name just then couldn't be taken any other way.

"Mmh?"

"If you don't stop teasing, I swear I will kill you."

"Wouldn't that be counter-productive, babe?"

Ford growled and Makoto couldn't stop the grin that curved his lips even as he shifted slightly on the wide leather seat to toss Ford back onto it, tugging at the blond's pants as he tumbled and pulling them off.

"Commando?" Makoto asked with a laugh in his voice. "You'd never have done that while you were alive..."

"Life's too short to worry about underwear," Ford answered casually like he wasn't sprawled naked across the wide seat of a limo.

"Not so short anymore," Makoto reminded him even as he knelt between Ford's legs, tongue soft as he licked a lazy path up the inside of one thigh and following the curve of his body to continue on towards his cock.

"We're not immune to death," Ford managed to get out before any sort of rational thought ground to a halt with Makoto's mouth wrapping around his dick, the sharp points of his teeth gently scraping along his skin like a reminder of how easy it would be for Makoto to hurt him.

With his mouth full it was impossible for Makoto to respond, but the last thing he wanted right now was to get into an intellectual discussion about life and death. Instead he'd rather do something much more interesting -- and life affirming (in the non-literal sense). Like fucking Ford until neither of them could see straight.

It didn't take long for Ford to lose patience with the attention that Makoto was giving his cock -- and not the rest of him. Tugging sharply at the soft dark hair under his hand, he kept pulling until Makoto finally lifted his head and glared at him.

"I'd appreciate it if you left my roots still in my scalp," the older vampire said even as he shifted to slide up Ford's body and kiss the soft skin of his throat.