“Why does it seem like you only come out here when you want to get fucked, sir?” Hanz asked, as the door creaked open. Every thing in the garage gleamed except for the hinges on the door, and he liked it that way just fine. It was Hanz’s own little advanced warning system.
“That would be because I only come out here when I want to get fucked,” Vision said, and closed the door behind him.
Hanz brought the suede buffer he was using up to his neck, and the softness made him hard. Well, the softness and the way Vision was looking at him. Vision’s eyes were wide and his cheeks flushed. He’d just eaten recently, that was obvious, but he still radiated hunger. Hanz straightened and met his eyes. Vision kept the gaze for just a heartbeat, and then dropped it, staring at Hanz’s boots instead. His body changed. He’d walked into the garage every bit the second most powerful vampire elder in New York, and just by looking away and relaxing his shoulders, he was Hanz’s Vision again.
“And why is that?” Hanz asked, approaching where Vision stood. He ran his finger down Vision’s cheek. Vision shuddered. The skin was so soft and clean, and the dark smudge his finger left on the whiteness was an affront. It was also Hanz’s mark. He’d put it there, and he couldn’t stop himself from marking the other cheek the same way. That was better.
“You’re different out here,” Vision said, still looking down. It was all Hanz could do not to rub his thumb across Vision’s lips. They were parted, not by much, but the invitation was there.
“Different how?” Hanz walked behind Vision. He had no moral qualms about dirtying Vision’s fine suit, and the soft grey wool seemed to absorb the grime from his fingers. He dug his fingers into Vision’s hips, pulling him back so that Vision’s ass was up against his cock, and enjoyed the gasp that came from Vision. He didn’t move, just held him there, then bit down on Vision’s neck. “That was a question, sir,” he said, and licked up the blood he’d just spilled.
“You’re confident out here.”
“I’m confident in there,” Hanz said, motioning the big house with a thrust of his hips.
Vision hissed. Rocking forward had rubbed Hanz’s cock against Vision, and Hanz needed to take a second to recover his voice again. It wouldn’t be good to waver. He scraped his teeth down Vision’s neck, and the blood was thick with arousal. If he wasn’t careful, Vision would come right here, and that would be no fun at all. He pulled away a quarter inch.
“You are,” Vision agreed, and his voice broke saying it. “But you’re confident in my domain. You’re a different kind of confident in your domain.”
“And that turns you on,” Hanz said. It wasn’t a question. Vision nodded, regardless.
Hanz licked up the last of the blood. “I’ve got to get washed up. You make yourself comfortable.” He broke away, his body suddenly cold, and he had to force himself to walk to the sink.
“Oh, ha-ha,” Vision called. Hanz’s back was to him, so he let himself smile. There was nothing to get comfortable with in the concrete, chrome and metal of the garage, and he knew that as well as Vision did.
Hanz scrubbed his skin until it was pink, then dried them. He was just reapplying hand cream when he turned around and saw Vision leaning up against the Rolls Royce Sedanca de Ville.
“You do this just to piss me off,” Hanz said, flatly.
“You said get comfortable,” Vision said.
“But does it have to be against the only thing in here from the 1930s?”
“What am I, chopped liver?” Vision crossed his arms. “I drove one of these, you know. Gabriel kept two of them. I was in the car pool long before they realized vehicles could swim.”
Hanz crossed the garage, took Vision’s hand, and pulled him away from the Phantom II. “Nothing says you’ve arrived like being fucked over the hood of your own Benz.”
“But it’s last year’s model.”
“We’ll upgrade. Now strip.”