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</div><br/><i>It had been a bloody exhausting evening, Nyxus had mused as he slid down the side of the metal ladder that descended directly to his underground disposal workshop. With an emphasis on the bloody. Usually, the vampire found the monotonous task to be quite effortless… But he was thirsty. Ravenously thirsty. And not only did he have to suffer through the acrid scent of stale carnage as of the last several hours, but the intoxicating aroma of his newly assigned sidekick as well. Even draining a couple of packets of blood bank specials warm out of the microwave didn’t help him, because it didn’t at all compare to the fresh, naturally hot,</i>living<i>elixir of life of a living creature. A blood packet couldn’t wrap its arms around his neck as he pierced the tender barrier of skin with his razor sharp canines, or moan in a duality of dull pain and delicious ecstasy as he took his fill from the joint of their neck and shoulder…</i><br/><br/>It was another one of those sorts of days. Though this day, he’d long since finished his work, and it luckily involved little in the regard of expertly disposing of a corpse. He was, however, exceptionally starved of the rich, hot liquid that ensured the dull thrum of his heart behind his ribcage, and wanted it from a very specific source. A source of whom he didn’t quite know the previous engagements of, and Nyxus Pavell was nothing if not a well-mannered man. His mother had not raised him – albeit several centuries ago – to steal one away from prior arrangements. Especially if those prior engagements were with someone else. Nyx furrowed his brows as he shut the front door silently behind him and turned the lock. Going to the kitchen to pull out a sealed plastic bag of blood and nuke it for a minute would be the most prudent decision, but he wanted something<i>fresh.</i><br/><br/>It had, after all, been more than three weeks since his last real meal. He’d only arrived to Oliver and his pretty little lover, Ralia, (whom he was relatively sure disliked him quite a lot more often than not) that morning. They had departed nearly a month earlier while Nyx was back home, attending to, once again, prior engagements. Last minute details, scheduling, redirections, and little things that he seemed to be the only one to think of. Someone had to do it. But the delay meant more to do when he arrived, and he’d only been inside the house long enough to throw his bags down, drain a packet of blood – not even warmed in the microwave – and dart back out. All that signified his presence lay in his bedroom, and he was unsure whether or not Oliver or Ralia had even taken notice, because he hadn’t seen either of them. He suspected they were both still asleep, as he’d arrived in the wee hours of the morning. The only good think about the day was being on the right side of the car again. Americans drove strangely, and he’d never quite gotten used to it.<br/><br/>He paused in the dark living room, head swiveling slowly around to take it in. The only light came from outside – the moon and stars. But that didn’t bother him. His vision was beyond perfect. He had almost come to he conclusion when he heard the soft slosh of water directly overhead, and raised his eyebrows, straining even with his superhuman hearing to figure out just who it was up there. He gave up after a long few moments, resolving to go up. The noise was coming from the bath off of Oliver’s bedroom. But then, maybe he and Ralia had turned a bit more adventurous than he anticipated. The only sound he made was due to the light creak of the wooden steps as he ascended the stairs and slipped quietly into the incubus’ bedroom – adorned in rich tones and eye-catching adornments and not at all the delicious chamber of horrors one might expect from the derisive demon. But he knew all about Oliver’s decorating sense. What surprised Nyx was the lump in the bed that was most certainly<i>not</i>Oliver Beroli. The pink hair that splayed across the pillow belonged to Ralia, and she was sound asleep. Now that he was in the room, Nyx could hear her slow, even breaths – and could see that she still wore some soft cotton nightie in white. The musk of sex was in the air – but hardly strong enough for even him to sense. He smiled wryly, pressing the door shut with the lightest of clicks behind him. Poor Oliver had slipped into the bath, hunger unsated – much like his own. Perhaps gotten the girl just excited enough to allow him to peel off her panties and tease the soft curls between her thighs with his experienced fingers before shying away, blush rising to color her cheeks at her own request. The tentative little “no”.<br/><br/>But Oliver wouldn’t force her.<br/><br/>He sighed, and moved to the door of the bathroom – stopping in his tracks when something stirred at the foot of the bed. He hadn’t even realized the dog in the room – Ralia’s pet. Jake. The mutt bared its teeth and let out a low, deep growl – but a flash of Nyx’s own fangs and rough hiss sent the dog covering his head with his paws, and the vampire resumed his path, slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. Oliver was slouched down in the deep marble tub, eyes shut. The bathroom was relatively dark, save for the few lit sconces. An effort to keep from waking his lover in the next room, or just an affinity for the romantic lighting, Nyxus couldn’t decide – but he didn’t linger long on the debate. He pushed his long, dark braid over his shoulder so that it fell evenly down his back and moved to slide to his knees at the head of the bath, resting his hands on the shoulders of the other man, lips pressing gently to his ear. It might be best to wait for a proper welcome until they didn’t risk waking the girl in the next room, and while that wouldn’t be easy, he supposed they could manage. What he wanted now was a long, hot drink and the cocoon of his blankets immediately after.<br/><br/>“Am I interrupting a dream?” he murmured, applying a firm pressure to the demon’s shoulders, rolling his thumbs over the upper blade before tracing his lips down his neck. “What are you doing awake this time of night, my pet? Reading my mind and running my bath water?” He was teasing, of course – but as the words passed his lips, he knew he wouldn’t object to a nice, long steam. Maybe with bubbles and bath salts and someone else to wash his thick black tresses.