It was time.

He knew it was time because when he looked around him, everything was magnified. Idly he counted the hairs on the flies' back as it landed on his cold bacon.

He didn't even like bacon.

No, his tastes ran in a much different avenue. His appetite was more for smooth skin, racing heartbeats, heads tilted back almost eagerly to expose the fluttering jugular--

Some would call him estranged, disturbed, unhealthy.

He called it his curse, and his blessing.

Pushing the kitchen chair backwards(and wincing at the horribly intensified sound), Marq stood and padded silently to the door of the small apartment. His black jeans did nothing to disguise the alabaster sheen of his skin, skin that had not seen sun for.. centuries, it seemed to him. The tiles were cold but his bare feet hardly registered that. The early winter moon filtered through drawn curtains as he peered down at the bustling city sidewalk below him.

Even at this altitude, he could make out faces, hear the deep droning of life, smell the heady scent that rose from the warm bodies beneath him.

Oh yes, it was time.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Raze stared in to the mirror, cool grey eyes hiding any shred of the maelstrom of emotions inside his head. Slowly his lids fluttered down, yet another barrier between himself in the world. His only connection to reality, it seemed, was the insistant burn of his bleeding lip.

Really when you thought about it, it hadn't been his fault.

What was he supposed to do? Imagine, him just sitting serenely alone in the theatre. Eyes half-shut, not exactly watchung the movie but more absorping the sound and feel of the people. He hadn't asked for the boy to come sit beside him, he hadn't wanted the lurid light from the screen to cast enchanting blue shadows under the boys' cheekbones. He hadn't told his hand to rise and trace, carefully, the slow dark curl of hair against neck.

But he had, and that was why he was now inspecting his lower lip, periodically wiping away the dripping blood with a wet cloth.

Well, he shouldn't have sat there. Out of an entirely empy theatre, why there, why me?

One hand raised to push back his fringe of blueblack waves, and in the mirror a twin Raze paused and stared at the hand.

Traitor, he said.

A sigh escpaed from between his lips and he spun from the bathroom mirror, turning his back on himself and walked in to the living room. The TV splashed blue light on to the walls and for a moment he was back in the theatre--

The phone rings.

Raze frowned at the phone as if seeing it for the first time, approaching it cautiously, lifting the handset from the charger as if pickin up roadkill.

"H-hello?" Even to him his voice sounded strange. Too hoarse, too dark.

"Raze, hey, how are you? It's Mikael, remember? We met last week at Shannons party, and you said--"

"Mikael, yes." Silence. The awkward kind. "Listen, I uh, I... I'm a little busy, can you...?" He didn't want to say 'call back', because from the vague memory of that party (blonde curls green eyes taut stomache and a mouth that never rests no matter what it's doing) he didn't want Mikael to call back.

The boy of the other end didn't get this memo. After a full thirty seconds of happy exclamations of how pleased he would be to call back when it was more convenient (and may I kiss your ass too?) Raze murmered something like goodbye, and hung up. He let himself fall forward, pressing his forehead to the cold unresisting wall.

He really needed a drink.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He had to admit, the bar scene wasn't entirely his thing. But as any good hunter does, Marq adapted to his environment and promptly began scanning with hunger-sharpened eyes around the establishment. He was pleased to find he had not over or under dressed, but had acurately guessed the state of wear most patrons would be wearing.

A loose white linen t-shirt, tight enough to obviously reveal a well-muscled torso, but loose enough to pass unnoticed by those he wanted to be unnoticed by. The black jeans from before and a pair of worn grey Converse. He had spiked his short blonde hair so that it stood in untidy hedgehog bristles all over his skull, and his wicked blue eyes were refleced in the heavy silver ring on his left hand, set with a turqouise sapphire. Casual, but obviously there for a reason.

His careful planning, however, seemed to have been in vain. After a first preliminary sweep he moved around the room, occasinall grabbing a random person for a dance, usually lurking in the back, observing, waiting.

The hunger burned in him, a gnawing almost-pain that threatened to turn even the best intentions in to a murder senence.

Even with this desperation he took his time. But still, no one stepped forward, no one stood out.

He was about ready to give up. Tomorrow, he promised himself. Yes, tomorrow would be the day. With this in mind he moved to the door, shrugging in to a trench coat that billowed around him, giving one an almsot Dracula-esque image. Marq took no notice of this. He was already on his way, a pale hand on the door. Before he would push it open however it swung out from beneath his palm. He raised his eyes, and met a pair of cold greys staring back. A slow delicious shiver creeped down his spine. Him.

He licked his lips and offered a tentative smile. "Excuse me, I didn't--"

"'As alrigh'." Marq blinked, caught entirely off guard by the thick Scottish accent on the deep, husky voice of the man in front of him. A tight silence fell over them and Marq smiled again, somewhat sheepishly.

"I was just, ah.. Well, here." He stepped to one side, holding the door open for the newcomer, gesturing with the free hand to point him inside. Those grey eyes locked once more on to his own blues and he couldn't supress another shiver.

"Thanks," Moving past him the strangers' srm brushed his own and Marq secretly wondered whether the man had live wires embedded in his skin. Soundlessly he followed the man in to the bar.

"I'm Marq," he said loudly. The stranger didn't respond and he was about to repeat hmself, sure that over the din of the bar he had simply not been heard. Before he could say anything the boy turned his head and gave Marq a measured glance from the corner of his eye.

"..Raze. Nice tae mee' ye," was all he said. Marq nodded. It's a start, at least.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Idiot!

Raze ranted furiously to himself. 'Nice to meet you'? That's IT? You could at LEAST think of something ele to say, something to fill in those god-awful silences...!

Irritably Raze forced his buzzing thoughts to silence and focus on the sticky counter before him. He did NOT think about the beyond-gorgeous boy beside him. He very carefully kept his mind from the slow curve of his bottom lip, the electric shock of his eyes, how his hair just begged to be played with--

Oh yes, THAT'S working. You're definitely not thinking about him, are you?

A voice from beside him broke in to his reveries and he turned to face the sound, almost relieved.

"Do you uh... want to dance?" Raze blinked. The boy -- Marq -- gazed back at him, seemingly unperturbed. Raze rolled the word around inside his head for a good while, testing its shape and texture and feel before finally echoing it back.

"..Dance?" He narrowed his eyes as Marq suddenly started laughing.

"Yes. Dance. It's what they call it when you get up with someone and start moving around to the music," he said, still grinning. Raze fund he situation entirely less funny.

"I didn't mean... I know what dancing is... I... Oh, alright!" he snapped, wishing he could wipe the self-satisfied smirk off the boys' face.

"Great," he said, standing and offering a hand to Raze. "Come on, let's see if you really know what dancing is,"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dance floor was fraught with the smell of heated blood and the pounding of many racing hearts. It was almost enough to drive Marq crazy, but for the firm coolness of Raze's hand in his.

They made their way to the center and he dropped Raze's hand, turning to him. He grinned wickedly and moved closer. A new song started up.

'I fly like paper, get high like planes...'

The bass throbbed through the club as Marq began to press his body against Raze's, grinding hips against hips. He felt Raze move with him, felt his heart began to speed up, felt hands brush down his spine to rest comfortably in the small of his back, pulling him closer. He looked up and grinned.

"Well well, you do know," Raze replied only with a grin and a slightly harder push against Marq's hips. The song melted away in to a slower beat and Marq stopped dancing, nodding to his partener to say he was going to sit. Before he could, Raze grabbed his hand, pulled him back. He gave Marq a little smile and rested both hands on his hips, tugging him against his body. Marq felt the boys' heartbeat against his own, sweat mingling, breath passing as their faces hovered within inches of each other.

Marq studied the deep grey depth's of the man's eyes, his gaze wandering over the prominent jaw bone, the smooth curve of the cheek, the pale lips. Oh yes, it needs to be him. Marq leaned forward so his lips brushed teasingly against Razes' ear.

"We should... go somewhere."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Raze blinked.

"Go somewhere? Now?" His voice was even rougher now. Almost unconciously he reached to push a damp tangle of hair from his face. he found himself staring in to the azure of Marq's eyes, noticing a thin gold ring just around the pupil, noticing the way his eyelashes and eyebrows were darker than his hair, the way the shadows gathered mischeviously in the hollow of his cheeks.

'Last time I saw you, you were on stage, hair was wild your eyes were bright and you were in a rage...'

He saw it now: leaving was a good idea. He nodded.

"Yes, let's... go," Once more his hand was clasped by Marq and they were moving, bodies an faces shiting by as if not truly there, then the door and they were out of it, in to the deep cold night, moonlight gleaming silver blue on the fresh fallen snow.

He stopped to lean against a wall and before he really knew what was happening, he felt hot breath on his neck and then lips found his own and everything else was temporarily, blissfully, empty. Then:

A car: his, or Marq's? How would he get home? Did it really matter?

A second kiss stolen at a red light, horns honked as it turned green and their breath fogged the windows.

He felt something sharp against his tongue, felt a thrill of pain as teeth found the tender flesh of his lip.

Then another door, a breif struggle with coats and shoes and then somehow, miraculously, they found themselves standing in a hallway, pleasantly private and dimly lit.

Slow down, he thought, and not until Marq nodded eagerly did he realize he had spoken out loud. A hand grasped his again and he saw a light, a bedroom, and a door closing. He found himself with his back against said door, Marq's taut body pressed to his, hands roaming greedily.

He laughed and pulled them both on to the bed. Shirts were discarded, fingers burned across chest and back. Raze help up a hand, stopping them both for a moment.

He pushed Marq on to his back and began kissing him, lips, neck, ears, down the chest, savoring for a moment the smooth downy skin of his stomach before tugging at the waist of his jeans with his teeth. Marq inhaled sharply and pulled him back up. They locked lips hungrily for a moment and then Marq moved his kiss down to Razes' neck. He felt a pull and---

Pain.