Brontes Nicolau heard Svane Grímsson before he saw him, as was common occurrence. 

No matter how many times he reminded his lover that he could hear his every thought, the other man clearly had no intention of changing. 

I wonder if slapping a bow on myself and lying naked in bed will fly as a Christmas present? Damned vampire is too rich for his own good! 

If it were nine months ago when Svane first became his, Brontes would have snapped and planned an elaborate punishment for the dreamscape, something involving whips. Now, he couldn’t help but feel warmth spread through his chest at the thought of his lover trying to find the perfect gift. Though he and his past meals had a sexual nature to their relationship by definition of the contract, none of them could be considered lovers. 

But he is different. 

“Svane, the best gift would be for you to remember that I can hear your every thought.” 

His lover jumped, whirling around to face him with an expression mixed with shock and embarrassment. Since their relationship changed, Svane had started spending more time in the backyard. His once pale, alabaster skin had taken on a darker hue with the tan from the Louisiana sun over the summer, but now that winter was upon them, the tan was fading. Something Brontes liked despite knowing how much the other man disliked being pale. My marks are more prominent. 

Svane could feel heat from Brontes’ gaze, but chose to ignore it as he walked to the hose attached to the side of the house. He’d taken up gardening in his spare time. It had been on the list of ideas Brontes’ suggested when he complained about wanting to do more. 

He wasn’t sure if he could keep them alive during the colder months, but he hoped that at least one of his babies would survive. “You could choose to ignore them, you know.”

Both men watched as water slowly dribbled out of the hose. Every now and then, the water flow was constricted, and Svane had to turn the faucet all the way to get enough water for all his plants. He kept forgetting to tell Brontes about the issue, but now was the perfect time. 

“For someone so rich,” he joked, walking back over to the faucet, “you’d think you’d have a state of the art watering system.” 

He smirked at the small twitch at the corner of the other man’s thick lips. If there was one thing that bothered the vampire the most, outside of hearing his errant thoughts, was being reminded of how rich he was. The reason was unbeknownst to Svane, but he found it funny to watch the normally refined vampire get a ruffled feather or two. 

Almost as if to defend its master, water suddenly erupted from the hose, the splash back managing to splash Brontes’ pants, but completely dousing Svane. 

Serves him right, Brontes couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, though he kept a neutral expression. He watched haughtily as the now-soaked Svane ambled back to the faucet to twist it off, cursing the whole way. 

“Did you use your special powers that you still refuse to tell me about?” 

When Svane faced him again, arms crossed underneath his chest, all Brontes could focus on were the two dusky, hardened nipples through the thin long-sleeved t-shirt the other man wore. He usually didn’t like his men having too much muscle, but he’d grown to love squeezing and biting into his lover’s rippling pectorals. 

I want a taste. It had been two weeks since his last feeding, and something about feeding from the one he was in love with made his thirst stronger and harder to satiate. Svane always complained, no begged, for him to eat more. He usually refrained, knowing that Svane’s desire mostly came from his loins; they didn’t get intimate outside of feeding, even now. 

But, seeing the outline of his lover’s impeccable body, which he’d helped shape and perfect with careful instruction, made his usual restraint melt away. Brontes grabbed Svane’s wrist and pushed him against the cool brick of the side of the house before he knew what he was doing. All he could hear was Svane’s elevated breathing and blood singing in his veins. 

“W-what are you doing?” Svane couldn’t help the excitement that creeped into his voice. He went slack underneath the vampire, tilting his head to the side slightly in anticipation. 

“You are going to catch a cold.” Even though he said this, Brontes huddled closer to him, face nuzzling along his neck. 

“Just give me a little drink, and I’ll be fine.” Svane grinded his wakening lower half into his lover's hips, delighting in the erection he felt in response to his movements. 

“Stop. Teasing. Me.” Svane felt desire pooling in his lower belly as Brontes’ grip around his wrists tightened. He ignored the slight twinge of pain from having his arms forcibly raised above his head as the vampire’s tongue licked at his racing pulse. 

“But you like it.” Svane thrusted forward with his hips, delighting in the friction of their clothed erections rubbing against each other. 

“Even so,” Brontes whispered gruffly, taking a long, measured breath, “now is not the time.”

With that he loosened his hold on Svane’s wrist and made a move to step back. If I drank from him now I—

Svane didn’t give him time to think or retreat as he brought their lips together in a hard kiss. Somehow, the other man managed to work his lips open, the ravenous tongue swirling against his own and licking at his teeth. Brontes could feel his resolve hanging by a thin thread, and he grabbed at Svane’s shoulders. 

How do I get him to stop? 

Svane’s hard-headedness had only grown as their relationship deepened. Brontes knew that if he didn’t put a stop to this now, he’d be teeth deep into his lover’s neck and balls deep inside him, regardless of them being outside in broad daylight. We would give Mrs. Smith a proper scare. 

Thinking of his trusty maid and housekeeper made him remember something else she’d said back when he was trying to learn how to date again. 

“A dingy boy like that has always lived on the edge. You’ll have to be a little more… spontaneous.”

Spontaneous, Brontes thought as Svane suckled at his bottom lip. The kiss threatened to sweep him away, but finally he managed to get his wits about him to say: “Let us go to New York City.”

Svane’s feverish kisses stopped and Brontes breathed a quiet sigh of relief. How is that for spontaneous?

“New York City…?” Svane could only look at the vampire in lustful confusion. 

“You have always wanted to go there, right?” Brontes continued, untangling himself. “That is the gift you can give me; allowing me to take you to a place you have always desired to go.”

Svane could only blink in confusion, wondering if his kissing skills had robbed the normally rationally being in front of him of his faculties. 

“I can assure you, I have full control of my faculties.” 

Svane flushed, realizing his pondering over the vampire’s sanity could be heard by said vampire. 

Does he mean it? He couldn’t help but get his hopes up as he better assessed the seriousness of the man in front of him. 

Though he had car privileges now, Svane still had yet to go beyond city limits, not that he generally wanted to. It would be the first time he left Louisiana since he’d moved there, and our first couple’s trip. 

“H-how is that a gift from me though?” 

“Because you’ll let me spoil you, and of course…” Suddenly the vampire was back at his neck, teeth grazing his sensitive skin. Svane felt his dick make more of a mess in his boxers as Brontes’ tongue flicked out. “Feed from you as I take you from behind. Over and over.”