"What kind of guy was it this time, huh?"
Alfred's fangs are bared against his throat, so close to pricking that it makes Matthew shiver. He'd only gotten as far as the bathroom before his brother had picked up on his scent -- sex and sweat, fresh blood and the remnants of plastic glitter. And now Alfred's got him pinned up against the sink and, if he's closing his legs around Al's waist to pull him closer, well. Matthew smiles; he knows he's pretty like this, flushed pink with new blood pumping through his veins, oh-so-warm to the touch.
"Why don't you tell me?" Matthew replies, looping his arms about Alfred's neck, the words rolling off his lips like he'd rehearsed them.
(Maybe he did. A little.)
Alfred growls, his fingers tightening in Matthew's hair, digging into the firm flesh of Matthew's thighs and-- oh, there it is. The pinch, the burn, the claw of pure want in his belly as Alfred's teeth break skin, sink deep into his neck. He locks his legs around Alfred's waist, hips coming up off the sink as he grinds hard against him. Al's fangs slide free with a slick pop, leaving behind a neat row of punctures. Shivery pleasure skitters up Matthew's spine as Al mouths his neck, presses the tip of his tongue into each hole.
Swallowing down every drop he'd bled.
As soon as Al's mouth leaves his neck, Matthew crushes their lips together, warm, messy, wet. He sucks the taste of his blood -- thick with iron, vibrant, alive -- off his brother's tongue, licks the red smear from his lips.
"You do it on purpose, don't you," Al says when they part, hands finding their way down to cup Matthew's ass possessively. His tone takes on a dangerous edge that makes Matt's whole body ache with desire. "You like me like this."
Like an animal. Staking my claim. My territory. Mine.
Matthew is nearly breathless with delight as he pushes Alfred's bangs away from his face, touches the tips of their noses together. "Jealousy does look good on you, Alfie."