35 Drink Me

Simon Hart had never been a man possessed of a romantic nature. While the sailors sang of their beloveds across the sea and the merchants raised a glass to their special ladies and gents, the tailor could only buckle down and work all the harder. Many a night was spent laboring over his creations. He worked with a fervor most pious as the candles burned low, casting long, dancing shadows across the walls.

In the heat of those midnight hours, the tailor of Lenore condemned those fools who wretchedly pined after love. Simon, for one, didn't want any part of it. Instead, he required nothing more than his hands smoothing down a reverie of silk, his finger tips playing at the spools of thread and the steady rhythm of his needle piercing in and out of the cloth laid bare before him, over and over again. There was nothing more satisfying to the man than pulling the thread taunt and watching the pieces of fabric meet in rapturous completion.

The familiarity of it was easy to lose himself in. Fabric was effortless, after all. Working with it came as naturally as breathing. It had an almost magical quality to it; an allure that few could understand.

But, above all else, it was safe. Cloth would never betray his trust and thread could never harm him. If there was ever any pain in his profession, it was only when a needle missed its mark; a drop of blood was a small price to pay in his lifelong pursuit of something beautiful and true. What more could he possibly need out of life? That was the belief Simon held close to his heart for all of those years.

"Simon?" Alabaster asked softly, as he leaned a little closer, his lips a velvety temptation.

The human could feel his bravado draining from him like the color in his face. His heart was pounding. His mouth, dry. If he was a fair maiden, Simon was convinced that he would have already tipped backwards into a dead faint! As it was, the gentleman found himself frozen to the spot; like a bird caught in a cobra's stare!

'Speak, you bewitched coward!' he implored himself, 'Say something! Anything!'

But, all the tailor could manage was a purse of the lips and a few rapid nods. It may not have been much of an answer, but the vampire was delighted, nonetheless. Not only because he was finally getting the chance to kiss the man he considered his better half, but because this was the most bashful he had ever seen the tailor. Such a privilege wouldn't go unnoticed; or unrewarded.

That mildly furrowed brow, that uncertain tense to his jaw, that spark of hesitant desire shimmering like a star in those resplendent, green eyes. Oh, how it made Alabaster's heart swell with adoration and want! So much so, that his heart would surely burst if he had to wait a second more!

But, no matter how much he longed to throw himself against his beloved's lips, devouring and deflowering every inch he could reach, the vampire held himself back. It wouldn't do to ruin the moment with over-zealousness. Instead, he would take his time giving to Simon all of the worship he was due. Pastel gazes touched as a finger tip brushed against the human's hand. The only sound between them was Simon's breath as it hitched.

Even if the gentleman's voice betrayed him over and over again, he answered the invitation in a way far more powerful than words. After the most minuet of pauses, he entwined the nobleman's fingers with his own. The human's heart skipped a beat as he glanced down to where they met. How perfectly they wove together; like thread holding flush two very different, yet still perfectly complementing pieces of cloth.

That moment caused Simon Hart to question everything he thought he knew. It also made him realize just how wrong a long held belief could be. Clinging to the notion that a tailor only needed cloth for fulfillment was like a man adrift at sea, believing he only needed the plank of wood keeping him afloat. That was surviving, not thriving. Existing, instead of living. Why couldn't he see it before?

Perhaps the reason was merely because it had taken him longer to find the man he would happily raise a toast to. A wondrous soul that Simon would gratefully thank the gods for, even on the days when his faith was its bleakest. Everything had come into perspective, suddenly. He was at the mercy of Fate, a very fickle mistress with a sharp wit and an even sharper sense of humor.

Because despite how dignified the tailor carried himself, ridiculing others for their flights of fancy, the man found that he had become no better than those other love struck fools. But, as his eyes met that starry, crystal-blue gaze once again, sparkling with all of the tenderness in the world, he really couldn't bring himself to care. Instead, he threw it all away. His worries, his posturing, his proper and astute demeanor, crafted all for affect. He would let the driftwood go and drowned in the sea that was the vampire's love; what a beautiful night to put fears to bed.

The two souls converged on a single point. Their lips finally touched. It was a mere brush, nothing more; a curious, first taste. But, the spark it had thrown ignited a whirlwind of passion, their mutual hums of bliss serving only to fan the flames.

Simon's arms whipped up around Alabaster, pulling the nobleman close enough to feel his heartbeat; an action quickly reciprocated. They clung together like their very lives depended on it. Bracing like this was all they had left; one last, precious drop of time. Perhaps it was.

Tomorrow was never a promise, after all. Not even to lovers, no matter how strong the red string of fate might bind them. All they had for sure was here and now. Simon and Alabaster were determined to make it count.

Their impassioned efforts were clumsy, at best. Neither was certain where their hands belonged and their noses bumped more than once. But, by the gods, it was perfect. Seconds, minutes, hours, days, even years, had all been building up to this! Nothing could have convinced the two souls otherwise.

The tailor broke away from the other man to steal a gasp, only to find his air reclaimed by a thief far more cunning. His lover's mouth crashed onto his own like a torrential wave. Innocence was traded for delicious carnality, as a clever tongue lapped at the seal of Simon's lips. It was urgent, needy. As if Alabaster would die of desperation if he wasn't let in; like he was starving for him.

The tailor had always been afraid to being devoured by a vampire. Of being swallowed up by their relentless hunger that they couldn't seem to quench. But, in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to become a feast. His lips parted with a groan of willful surrender.

'Eat me.'

Alabaster wasted no time thrusting into his human's mouth, moaning with the thrill. The tailor's hands buried themselves in that long, gorgeous mane of starlight, gripping hard, as he let their tongues dance in a language only lover's could understand.

'Consume me.'

Tips of the deadly-sharp fangs grazed the tailor. The pain was reminiscent of a pinprick from one of his needles as a drop of blood bubbled up to the surface. The vampire suddenly pulled back.

"Simon! I'm so sorry! I never meant to-!"

A finger was pressed to Alabaster's lips. Simon's eyes stayed downcast, avoiding his own, while the nobleman's soul was left to languish in the silence that followed. He honestly felt that he had crossed a boundary from which there was no return. In his thoughtless fit of passion, he had done the unthinkable! He was a vampire that had dared to draw the precious blood of a man who feared nothing more fiercely than the thought of being drained by one!

"I will.. go from your presence," Alabaster breathed with a heavy heart and eyes filling with remorseful tears, "Just know that I never meant to bring you any hurt. I only ever wished to show you my love and-"

A hand yanked him back down, causing the Stone to fall to his knees.

"Will you stop being so damn dramatic, you infuriating man!? Give me a moment!"

The Crystal Vampire relaxed into a proper sit, as he was looked over by those sharp, contemplative eyes. Simon, at last, sighed.

"You passed the test."

Alabaster's mouth hung agape.

"Test?"

"Yes. If you will observe, the drop of blood is right where you left it; you didn't lose yourself to thirst."

All of the pieces suddenly came together like a colorful collage of dread.

"You were.. waiting for something like this to happen. A moment where I was the one to draw blood. Weren't you?"

Simon was rarely one for guilt. But, that was exactly what he was feeling deep in the pit of his gut as he observed the other man's vulnerable face.

"Don't look so put out, Alabaster," the human uttered, before realizing how sharply those words could cut.

Calloused hands reached out for the unscarred, pressing a tender kiss to the tops of each. Simon Hart had never been good at apologizing with his words. He had a damnable amount of pride. So, this tender display of repentance would have to do. Judging by the quirk of the vampire's lips, Alabaster really didn't seem to mind.

"..It may not have been intentional," the tailor began at last, "This test of mine. But, it was always inevitable. The more time we spent together and sharing that kiss, it-"

Simon shook his head.

"I know that you never meant to wound me. I can see how it torments you. But, mayhaps this event is a blessing in disguise. Because in drawing this drop from me, you've single-handedly assuaged all of my fears. Answered ineffable questions. I have no doubts any longer that you.."

The gentleman suddenly shot to his feet as if seized by the very spirit of determination. He raised a hand to his chest in an unbreakable pledge, while holding the noble's hand against his heart beneath it.

"I, Simon Hart, fear you not, Alabaster Stone. Nor will I ever again."

The vampire's jaw hung open, revealing the glittering tips of his fangs. Love confessions came in all shapes and sizes. Common men sang ballads of undying love, while kings gave away untold riches to the holder's of their hearts. But, Alabaster wouldn't have traded those words out of Simon's mouth for the world; for they were the most beautiful things he had ever heard. Slowly, the taller man rose to his feet.

"I often think of that conversation we had in your shop a few months ago. How you found it completely unacceptable, the notion that I would die for you. How you wanted to be the reason why I lived, instead. I must admit, you had taken me by surprise, my dear tailor. As such, I didn't have an answer for you, then. But, I have it now."

They locked eyes, as the vampire mirrored Simon's pose; he took the other man's hand and placed it over his heart, before covering it with his own.

"I, Alabaster Stone, pledge to live for you, Simon Hart. I will not so carelessly throw away my time, anymore. Not as long as I have you with me."

He raised the human's captured hand up to his lips, kissing it, gently.

"I will live for our love."

Tears bubbled up in Simon's eyes. His heart hurt, but it was a good kind of ache; for the first time in his life, the man felt whole. He leaned up to capture the vampire's lips, once again, only to be taken by the shoulders and held back, much to his confusion and even, frustration.

"What in the devil are you doing?!"

"You're still injured," Alabaster reminded him softly, "Perhaps it would be prudent to let me take care of that, first?"

"..You may clean me up."

But, when a handkerchief was brought out, he caught Alabaster's wrist in a grip that was surprisingly strong for a mortal.

"With your mouth."

The handkerchief fluttered to the floor, forgotten.

"..I'm afraid that I don't understand what you mean."

"I think you do. This drop of blood, I've decided, is yours. If you want it."

Simon stepped into the other man's space.

"Do you?"

It was now the nobleman's turn to fumble for words. Once he found them, even with a steady intact of air, he still found himself breathless.

"My my. You're always so full of surprises, my dear tailor."

Smiling, Alabaster took the other man by the chin. He let their foreheads touch, as he stared down into those exquisite, green eyes.

"Of course, I want it. I want everything you have to give."

The vampire leaned that last fragment down and connected their lips in a hungry kiss that was every bit reciprocated. Simon moaned at the taste of his own blood's bitter tang and that spicy flavor that was so very unique to Alabaster. He winced as he could feel another sharp graze, drawing more blood. But, he didn't protest; on the contrary. He clung all the tighter.

'Drink me. Let me fill your emptiness. Let me feed your soul, as you have fed mine. My.. My darling vampire.'