Chapter Text
Sam just stands there in the penthouse suite with blood on his face, neck, and hands, his eyes lowered, as Dracula’s Daughter hotel security and Lestat’s shark of a lawyer start clearing out the traumatized band members and groupies. Sam’s ears are still ringing, and he feels exposed. He longs for the reassuring cover of his helmet, but he’d lost track of that in the hall—he’d promptly tripped because of it, and it’s not as if he’s ever been what anyone would call elegant in a brawl. Sam feels someone take him by the shoulders and steer him off to one side.
“Hey, man,” Daniel says. “Thanks for having our backs in a pinch. You okay? You don’t look okay. Can vamps go into shock?”
“I’m not in shock,” Sam protests, but he is a bit. There’d been no guarantee that he’d survive upon being recognized by Lestat.
“How far behind us are the spooks? No texts yet,” Daniel asks, releasing Sam so that he can check his phone. “Security won’t like—”
“Sam!” calls a voice that both Daniel and Sam recognize, its timing both uncanny and welcome.
“What on earth have you done?” laments a second, less welcome voice on the heels of the first.
Sam goes directly into the arms offering him his helmet—which he drops on the marble floor, that’s going to leave a scratch, in favor of folding against the chest of their owner. He’s being pulled there anyway, held tightly for a few seconds before being kissed in spite of the dried mess on his lips. He wraps his arms around Rashid’s neck and squeezes his eyes shut on the abrupt stinging in them. He shouldn’t let this happen in front of their boss, but the adrenaline rush has faded. If close calls are going to become de rigueur, then he’s claiming extra benefits.
“Sam saved Lestat’s immortal ass, that’s what,” Daniel tells Raglan. “So, uh, is that action new?”
“Are you referring to the lovebirds?” Raglan asks. “No. You were bound to see it sooner or later.”
“Sorry for the delay,” Rashid whispers to Sam as soon as they break for breath, wiping the scant traces of tears from beneath Sam’s eyes before they can fall. “We had to take a look at the damages first. I found that—” he glances toward Sam’s helmet at their feet “—while I was at it. I figured you might need it, although…” Rashid presses his forehead against Sam’s, rocking him slightly where they stand. “Are you hurt?”
Sam shakes his head, nuzzling along Rashid’s jaw. “Nothing that didn’t heal in minutes.”
Daniel whistles, and then mutters under his breath. “Wow, that’s…really something else.”
“Need anything?” Rashid continues, which is always his next question, the lovely man.
“Yes, but it’ll have to wait,” Sam sighs, side-eyeing their company in sheer irritation.
Raglan clears his throat, elbowing Daniel. “You’re going to have to leave, I’m afraid.”
“Aw, such a drag!” Daniel exclaims, sarcastic. “You don’t need help with the bodies?”
“Did anyone try to question you?” Rashid asks, annoyed that he even has to check. “Hotel security hasn’t overstepped as of yet?”
“No,” Sam replies, disengaging from Rashid so that he can bend to grab his helmet. He realizes that Daniel is still staring. “What?”
“How long have you two been…?” Daniel makes a gesture back and forth between Sam and Rashid. “Let me guess. Since Dubai?”
“Since just before,” Rashid says dryly. “That’s all you’ll get for now. Surely my speech in the reading room was earnest enough.”
“Rashid Ranghar, monsterfucker,” Daniel shoots back. “Guess I felt compelled to bust your balls for a reason, huh? Great catch.”
Sam licks over his fangs, willing them not to emerge. “Don’t push it,” he says. “D’you want my help next time you need it or not?”
“Sam, that was a compliment,” Daniel says, patting his cheek. “After the shit I heard about you, you’re lucky my esteem’s so high.”
Rashid swats Daniel’s hand away from Sam’s face before Sam can. “Raglan, I’ve assessed the hall. May I sweep in here, and then—”
“No, Daniel and I will do it,” Raglan sighs. “You and Sam can go debrief. Better be at the airport come mid-afternoon, is that clear?”
“Rashid wouldn’t dream of missing the flight to Toledo,” Sam retorts as Rashid leads him out. “Who else would bother to load my coffin?”
“Shhh, that's enough,” Rashid soothes. “Good night, gentlemen,” he says over his shoulder, and then he slides his arm around Sam’s waist.
Sam can tell from the particular consistency of blood traces still on the floor from when he and Daniel had taken the trip up to aid Lestat that someone had fucked in the lift. That had likely been Lestat and the pair of humans he’d had with him. He and Rashid are heading down a few floors to where Sam had opted for a windowless suite. Sam hadn’t been seduced enough by the view to risk one with plate glass.
The only view that Sam cares about is in front of him: Rashid, gorgeous in the glasses he’s recently learned he needs. The signs of aging that mortality have left on him even in the past three years—hard to believe that’s how long it’s been since the Dubai mission ended—have only made him more handsome. When Sam backs Rashid against the wall of the lift, his smile is warmly obliging. He parts his lips beneath the press of Sam’s, his mind wide open. You’re hungry, mera dil, he sends, tilting his head to one side. Did you feed before the VIP event earlier?
Not nearly enough, Sam admits sheepishly, sinking his fangs cleanly in Rashid’s neck. They only have a few seconds until the elevator stops on their floor, but it’s enough time for Sam to take a few swallows and for Rashid to pull Sam tight against himself with both hands unabashedly on Sam’s arse. Another minute, and they’d both be glad they’re in black. There were enough drugs in circulation that I didn’t dare risk it. Exhibit A: the shape Lestat’s head was in, such that he needed backup in that skirmish to begin with. “Ah, fuck, that feels, darlin’, fuck—”
“Come on,” Rashid murmurs as the elevator dings, gently disengaging Sam from mumbling as he heals the wounds in Rashid’s neck. “Bed.”
“Why not coffin?” Sam pouts, stumbling out of the elevator after Rashid, clinging to him. “The room’s got both. Daniel’s right about you.”
“Shower,” Rashid counteroffers, sliding his hand into the back pocket of Sam’s parachute pants, fishing out his key. “You’re all bloody.”
“You like it,” Sam points out, stubborn as Rashid hunts for the room number written on the cardstock. “I see the way you look at me.”
“I do,” Rashid concedes, locating the door about a third of the way down the hall, “but…” He takes the plastic key out of the cardstock, taps it on the sensor, and then gives Sam a playful shove ahead of him into the room. “You need to calm down so I can get the questioning over with,” Rashid continues, setting the card on the credenza before he takes Sam’s helmet and puts that there, too. “Shower first, Sam.”
Sam bites his lip and nods, letting Rashid hug him again. The blood he’d drunk has gone a decent way to clearing his head; his ears aren’t ringing anymore, and he feels less like he’s going to pass out. “Is that an order?” he asks, half smiling against Rashid’s shoulder. “Not that it’s your place. God only knows how I don’t outrank you by now. The Order’s pecking order is fucked. Fangs prevent advancement.”
Rashid snorts. “That’s why I’ll be joining you soon. Can’t risk power imbalance in on the job.”
“Fuck off,” Sam whispers, cupping Rashid’s cheek. “I missed you. I’m sorry about the scare.”
“You don’t owe me an apology for that, Sam. I’m just sorry I wasn’t already here to help.”
“I was the only other vampire on hand who wasn’t aligned with those regional twats. So.”
“I’m never that far behind,” Rashid replies. “Tracking the tour bus is…getting tiresome.”
“And these corporate gigs are getting old, too,” Sam admits, glancing toward the bathroom.
Rashid spins Sam and steers him by the shoulders. “The bellman will bring my things up.”
As soon as the bathroom door is closed, Sam hops on the edge of the sink and swings his legs while Rashid busies himself with sliding open the glass door on the massive shower, turning on the hot water, and sorting through Sam’s toiletries. Sam unlaces his boots, letting them drop one after the other to the floor. He watches Rashid finish gathering the bottles he needs to clean them both up, set those on the slick tile floor inside the shower, and then turn to face Sam again. Catching the shoulder zipper on his shirt between thumb and forefinger, Sam grins.
“Aren’t you supposed to debrief me?” Sam tugs the zipper a fraction, exposing his tank top.
Rashid tracks his eyes over Sam’s shoulders as he sheds the outer layer. “Where’s Lestat?”
“Pulled a runner in front of everyone,” Sam says. “Shattered the window, flew right out.”
Rashid runs his palms up and down Sam’s bare arms, making Sam shiver. “That’s that, then.”
Sam makes a face, unfastening Rashid’s trousers. “Only one question? You’re so unserious.”
“About Lestat,” Rashid agrees, slipping his hands up the back of Sam’s tank. “Not about you.”
Sam shivers, sliding off the counter to press against Rashid. “Why’re we still dressed, again?”
Rashid stumbles out of his shoes. Then, to his credit, he strips both of them out of the remainder of their clothes faster than he’s ever done before. He’s the take-charge, take-care kind—and, heaven help Sam, but he’s always been weak for it. Whenever Sam is overwhelmed, whatever Rashid says, goes. And if that’s Sam shutting his brain off while Rashid scrubs his hair, rubs down his bloody face and neck with the washcloth, and then lavishes attention on the rest of his body with his clever hands and mouth, well—Sam has no room to protest.
Sam is incoherent by the time Rashid has him on his back against the floor tiles with his legs spread. “Slow down!”
Rashid delves his tongue deeper inside Sam on the next swipe, laugh muffled. Close? he thinks for Sam to hear.
Sam tightens his fingers in Rashid’s hair, gasping when Rashid releases his hip and takes hold of his cock instead. Yes.
“Good,” Rashid mumbles, withdrawing his tongue. He strokes Sam with inexorable pulls of his fist, suds easing the way.
Sam throws his head back, hissing as he knocks it against the tiles. Inside a second, Rashid’s hand is there to cradle him.
“So good,” Rashid murmurs, kissing Sam’s neck, his body shielding Sam from the hot water. “Wish I could’ve seen you.”
“These gigs are a dime a dozen,” Sam pants, clinging to Rashid’s neck. He shakes, arching his back, resisting his orgasm.
“Shhh, don’t,” Rashid soothes, kissing Sam’s temple. “Just let go,” he whispers. “I meant…sure, your performance, but…”
“The fuckin’ fight, Rashid?” Sam demands, bewildered. “Are you serious?”
“Mmm,” Rashid replies, kissing the corner of Sam’s mouth. “Absolutely.”
“I tripped,” Sam gasps, writhing against the tiles. “Twice. Mortifying.”
“I don’t care,” Rashid says, gathering Sam close. “You’re fierce, love.”
Sam feels the tension coiled in his belly snap. He squirms and clings to Rashid even more tightly, muffling his wail against Rashid’s collarbone.
Rashid laughs quietly against Sam’s soaked hair, gentling his strokes. “Sweet, pretty thing,” he says. “So brave. So reckless. I adore you for it.”
Sam blinks hazily up at Rashid, his entire body drained of tension now, his limbs tingling with pleasure. “I beg your fuckin’ pardon? Reckless?”
“Next time Daniel asks you to put your safety on the line, maybe think twice?” Rashid asks, pecking Sam on the lips. “I worry. I can’t help it.”
Sam flips Rashid on his back, sliding a leg over him so that he can settle. “Point taken,” he sighs. “No making a widower of you before…”
“I’d like the chance to become a vampire so I can call myself your companion,” Rashid replies, hopeful as he sets his hands on Sam’s thighs.
“You are my companion,” Sam insists, wrapping his hand around Rashid’s cock. “Human, vampire, doesn’t matter. You know that.”
Rashid closes his eyes as Sam starts to stroke him, lips parted on a moan. “I do know,” he breathes. “I do, Sam. Not even till death…”
“Not even till death do us part,” Sam replies, repeating their perpetual mantra. “That’s right, darlin’. No need to hold back. So good for me.”
When he comes, Rashid shouts so loudly that it echoes off the tile around them, which…Sam always gets a thrill of satisfaction when he’s not the one terrorizing the neighbors with noise. He bends low over Rashid and kisses him quiet, running his messy fingers through Rashid’s hair. There’s my sweetheart, Sam croons in Rashid’s thoughts, humming with satisfaction when Rashid kisses him back. I’ll get you scrubbed off once you’ve recovered. We can go to bed or to coffin once we’ve dried off, whichever you please. Watch a movie until we fall asleep?
“Raglan won’t like it if we’re up past your bedtime,” Rashid teases. “I’ll be running on little sleep as it is, getting you and the luggage packed.”
“Hauling me to Ohio like a suitcase,” Sam grumbles. “Which dearly departed relative does the manifest say I am this time? Yours or Raglan’s?”
“If we were taking ground transport after dark, we wouldn’t have to bother,” Rashid says, apologetic, “but Raglan prefers speed. You’re mine.”
“I sure as hell am, and thank everything unholy for that,” Sam agrees, grinning.
“No more fights, all right?” Rashid replies. “I mean, not unless I get to watch.”
“And make it worth my while afterward,” Sam says, reaching for the shampoo.