Life's Greatest Questions: Chapter One

First off, I would like to say that I do not own any of the characters used in this. This is purely fanfiction. Second off, I would like to say thankyousofuckingmuch Sidney for helping me with this little "project".

Now, onto the reasoning.

I love the BDB series by J.R. Ward. And well, as a reader, I have had my own interesting thoughts and ideas about how things could have happened between Vishous and Butch. Thus, this little fanfiction was created. With the help of a good friend, Life's Greatest Questions began! This is the FIRST fanfiction I have ever written. All of my work is my own original thoughts, characters and ideas. Sometimes with the help of a partner. So, bare with me. And do enjoy!

So, the story begins.

Life's Greatest Questions

A Vishous and Butch Fanfiction

CHAPTER ONE

By Teagan & Sidney. 

He sat slumped on the leather couch, a squat glass in one hand, the other settled awkwardly on the cushion beside him, thoughts going a million miles a second. Closing his eyes, he let out a sigh and pulled himself up, pacing across the floor, completely on edge. There was something there, it was so close to the surface, but he couldn't say the words aloud, he couldn't force himself to acknowledge that there was definitely something going on. With a curse, he downed the remaining contents of his glass and nearly slammed it onto the coffee table. What the hell was going on, and what the fuck was he going to do about it. Cursing again, he shuffled toward the bedroom, shrugging out of his blood soaked leather jacket, the heavy material hitting the bed with a sigh. The shitkickers were neck, collapsing against each other as they landed by the foot of the bed. Tugging his black tee-shirt up and off, he tossed it into the hamper by the closet, making his way to the bathroom. Hands landing on his belt, he made quick work of it and was soon sliding the leather pants down long, muscled legs. Groaning, he started the shower, making sure the water was extremely hot before stepping under the scalding spray.

He honestly could not believe this. After all this, after two fucking years, she was just gonna up and do this. As he headed into the Pit, he slammed the door behind him, not quite caring whether Vishous was home or not. He was going to hear him throw a fit and that was fucking okay. He headed into the kitchen and with no such tact, opened the cabinet and withdrew the bottle of scotch he had left. There was only a half a fifth left, and that pissed him off more than it should have, but under the circumstances, he was not in the mood to be sober. He snarled as he tore the cork out of the bottle and drank a good fourth of it in one gulp. Butch wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and swore something fierce under his breath. God fucking dammit. So it was over, was it? Two years, and Marissa was just done with him. God... He had loved her, too. More than he should have let himself. The picture of he and his ex-shellan was on the wall, and with a growl that exposed fangs, he flung it, hearing the glass break against the wall behind him before drinking from the scotch again. His Red Sox cap blocked part of his vision, pulled low over hazel eyes, and he stood there for a long time, peering down at the broken glass and frame, over the picture. Fucking bitch.

Long fingers reached out, wrapping around the knobs, turning off the water. Vishous grabbed a towel and dried quickly, wrapping the soft black material low around his hips. With a another groan, he pulled open the bathroom door, steam rolling out with him. Damn, he needed a drink, like, yesterday. Cursing a string of colorful language, he carefully made his way into the living room of the Pit. Butch was home and by the looks of it, in an extremely lethal mood. Not bothering to make a stop into his bedroom for a pair of sweats, he went straight to Butch, "Hey man, what's going on?" His tone was a lot harsher than he had intended, sensing his nearest and dearests emotional distress. Something had happened, something bad. Sharp, diamond eyes narrowed as he noticed the picture of him and Marissa on the ground, glass shards spilled out around it. "Fuck..." He breathed, realization slamming into him like a mac truck.

Butch knew he was there, he hadn't had to see him to know that. He also knew by the look he caught out of the corner of his eye that Vishous had neglected to put on pants. How very predictable. He pushed the visor of his baseball cap up, revealing that his eyes were dark, and he looked a bit haggard. He leaned back against the wall, and stumbled, not due to drunkenness (yet), but due to the end table, and sank to sit down against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him. Butch tipped up the bottle and his head, letting his hat fall off and land to the side as he polished off the scotch. He needed more already. Fucking fantastic. The ex-cop pushed a hand through his short brown hair and swore out loud, looking up at Vishous with a lop-sided, highly unstable looking smile. "Fuck is right, man. Ain't that just like a woman? Milk you for all you got, and then hit the highway." He tossed the bottle aside, and it landed with a thud. Butch picked up the picture he'd discarded minutes earlier, and stared down at it, though there was no flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Not like I was ever good enough for her anyway. That's what everyone was afraid to say."

Something inside of him snapped as he listened to the cop talk, everything inside of him wanted to wipe the look off his face, take away the hurt that had burrowed inside of him. Without so much as a conscious thought, Vishous knelt down in front of the cop, Butch, his best friend, "That's a line of bullshit and you know it, true?" He reached out, hands settling on Butch's forearms, "No one was afraid to say it, because it's not true," His felt heat flood his body as he met Butch's hazel eyes, the hurt in them very visible. He sat there for a moment, unable to form words as he stared at his cop. He paused, blinking as if something had caught him off guard, and well, in a sense, it had. He had just called Butch his. Vishous closed his eyes, lips thinning into a line. When he opened them, he swallowed, "You're so much better, she just couldn't see it," His fingers ran soothingly up and down Butch's arms, odd. At that moment, all he could think about was comforting his friend. Nothing else mattered, nothing but erasing the hurt, taking away the pain.

This was not the first time that V had come to rescue him in a time of crisis. When he had been infected by that evil essence by the Omega? V had been there. When he was being changed and inducted in the Brotherhood and needed blood? V was there for that too. As a matter of fact, not a day went by that he didn't at least briefly think of that moment. Electricity shot through his veins at the thought, but was doused as Vishous came that close to him. He knew that back in the day, when he and Marissa first got involved, that there had been a bit of tension between V and himself, and Butch was aware of what the reason was. Some part of him wanted him back then too. But now? Now, he didn't know what the fuck had happened. Or what he wanted. His Catholic upbringing cringed at the thought of what that might have become, but in reality...if he had just let it happen? Would he and Marissa ever even have happened at all? The thought was making his head spin, and that rapid wash of alcohol into his system was making him feel even more discombobulated. His hazy eyes roamed to Vishous, down to where the bigger man's hands were on his forearms. Without his shellan, a black hole of loneliness accompanied a sense of being so utterly lost. Marissa had been his whole world... What was he to do now? Heartbreak was such a bitter poison, but as it always was, Vishous' presence was a soothing antidote. He didn't think on that for too long. Half drunk though he was, Butch had seen a flinch in Vishous' composure, he'd seen that strange look on his face, like something had happened that he wasn't expecting? "What?" he asked, his voice low. He knew Vishous too well not to know when something was up.

Vishous said nothing, unable to form words as his brain started to spin. His fingers stilled on Butch's arms, body rigid. Heat pulsed throughout his body, the blood gathering below the towel that loosely clung to his hips. "Shit," he cursed, pulling himself up and stepping back, eyes focused on the floor. "It's nothin' cop," He muttered, turning to go to his room, anything to put some distance between the two of them, "And there's more scotch in the cabinet," with that, he disappeared.

Butch sat there, unable to move for a long moment as he watched Vishous leave. His eyelashes lowered slightly, and he moved his hands to his lap. What had gotten into him all of a sudden? Not to mention that Butch wasn't stupid. He knew that it was never "nothing" with Vishous. As far as the Brothers went, there were problems, yeah. Take Z for example. Zsadist had issues. Vishous had demons. If Vishous let a reaction show on his face, it was certainly something to be noted. The brunette Boston native pushed himself to his feet, and stood there, on wobbly knees for a minute before he headed for the kitchen. The scotch was easy to find once he really looked, and he took the top off of it. He didn't drink any of it, to his surprise, and instead looked at the bottle with disdain. Suddenly...he wasn't interested in a stiff drink anymore. Butch pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead in an attempt to stop the pounding in his temples, and when he felt a little more stable, he headed for the hallway. Scotch still in hand, though untouched, he was in V's room without a second thought. It wasn't like the two had any sense of boundary or any concept of "personal space". Leaning against the door frame, his beloved drink in hand, Butch took one look at V and smirked, acting a little bit more like himself, at least for V's sake. "You know better than to bullshit me, roomie. Despite what you wanna think, you're a really shitty liar." "At least when they know you as well as I do" he silently added, putting yet another thing on the list of things he felt he could never say to Vishous, at least not while he was conscious.

Vishous paused in the process of pulling a black tee-shirt on, arms poised above his head, broad back exposed, muscles flexed, "I said drop it Butch," His tone was harsh, but there was something under that harshness, something he could not explain and did not want to even begin to analyze. Closing his eyes, back still facing the cop, he took a deep breath, paying Butch hadn't caught the underlining tone in his voice.

"I heard what ya said." Butch countered stiffly. "But I ain't droppin' it." He tipped up the bottle and took a sip of the harsh tasting black liquid inside of it. The liquor sloshed and then the room was silent. He knew better than to pass this off as nothing. He knew Vishous was volatile and mean when he wanted to be, and though Butch knew better than to push him, he was gonna risk the pain of getting punched in the face or worse. No one else around here had those kind of balls. Even Wrath knew what a cold blooded killer V was when provoked. As the son of the Scribe Virgin, it wasn't a good idea to fuck with him, but Butch, out of curiosity, and what might be concern, was going to do it anyway. "Now you can either tell me what the fuck is up your ass, or I am gonna stand here all night and make a drinking game out of how many times I can get you to say 'go away Butch.' until you punch me in the face, true?" Oh, yeah. It was game on, wasn't it? The younger vampire scratched his chin and felt the bristle of needing to shave, but alas, ignored it. "Now, what is it gonna be?" he asked, turning his Red Sox cap on backwards.

Vishous growled low in his throat, the sound seeming to vibrate throughout his body, filling the room with an almost icy breeze. He finished pulling on his shirt, the black cotton clinging to every muscle. He turned facing Butch, eyes glowing. He took a step forward and then another until he had the other male backed up against the wall, their mouths inches apart, "Butch, drop it. Now," Heat spread through his body in a blinding rush, causing his knees to shake and his heart to race, "Keep it up and i can promise you, you won't like where this leads," His mouth was now a mere centimeter from the cop's, so fucking close and yet he felt miles away.

Butch felt his back push against the wall, and the cold, hard drywall was not a forgiving mistress. The bottle fell out of his hand, and hit the floor with a clatter, the half consumed scotch dripping onto the floor. The atmosphere in the room had changed completely, and Butch was fully aware that his best friend had just flipped the hostile switch, and shit was about to go down. On second thought, LET it go down, he decided. Vishous could hurt him he throw a fit, he could do whatever he wanted, but as the descendant of an Irishman and a true, blue blooded Bostonian, he was not about to let some other man tell him what to do. Especially not V. "Everyone else in this place may be fucking afraid of you, but I'm not. So you go right ahead, hit me, beat me the fuck up, do whatever it is that you hafta do to get it out of your system, but listen to me very closely, Vishous when I say...Bring. It. The. Fuck. On." And just like that, he knew in the pit of his stomach, that he was fucked. Before he could stop himself, he had his arms out, hands flat against the wall, "I'm not going to hit you cop," His voice was a gasp. He should have turned, shoved the cop out of the room and shut the door, but he didn't. Instead, his lips landed on Butch's, rough, demanding, wanting...needing.

All motion seemed to just stop. His pulse raced, his stomach tightened, and in that split second, he swore he literally tasted sparks from the other man's lips. His hazel eyes went wide, and his hands went flat against the wall behind him, as if looking for something to hold on to. What in the fuck was going on right now!? Butch had known that Vishious wanted him sexually, he knew that before he and Marissa even started as a couple. But he had never in a million years banked on the fact that V would actually act on it, and do something about the desire that he claimed to have had. Feeling his mouth on his, Butch no longer questioned that desire, and in the midst of it, something flickered to life inside of him, like a tender flame being struck by a match. The notion became that maybe...somewhere really, really deep inside... Maybe he wanted V too. Now that was a notion he had tried very hard to ignore in the past, but with Vishious kissing him like that, it was an idea that was coming to the forefront very quickly. When the kiss broke, Butch stood there like a deer in the head lights, his hazel eyes wide, mouth still slightly ajar. He pressed his fingertips to his lower lip, feeling the smoldering heat still lingering. "Fuck." was all he could say. But on a positive not for Vishous' ego, he was still standing there instead of running away screaming.

Vishous went ramrod straight, heart slamming against his rib cage, vision swimming, "Fuck is absolutely right cop," He muttered, stepping back and turning to face the wall. He could smell Butch all over him, taste him. Not only that, but he could sense the cop right behind him, sense his cop right behind him. Crossing thick arms over his broad chest, Vishous blew his bangs out of his eyes and started to pace. Part of him wanted to push Butch out of the room, the other, less sane part of him wanted to throw the cop back up against the wall and fuck him. There is was, that unnamed emotion popping up. He wanted the cop, any way he could have him. The cop was his. Sadly, there were many things that stood in the way of that becoming a reality. He stood, trying to slow his breathing. Shuffling about the room, he located a lighter and a hand rolled and lit one up, sighing as he exhaled. He was waiting for the cop's freak out. Surely Butch had a list of colorful things to throw in V's direction.

He didn't even have words. The only thing he could say was "fuck" and he kept repeating it under his breath, standing there without feeling in most of his body, except the searing in his lips. What the hell was he even supposed to do about this?! V was his room mate, and his best friend in the entire goddamn universe. So that made what he just did completely and utterly wrong. Didn't it? Something within him purred at the thought of another kiss like that, and he even felt a strain against the crotch of the jeans he was wearing. Now, that made no sense. In the core of his being, Butch knew that he was not gay. He knew this for a fact. However, V kissing him had not felt "gay", as some would have put it. It felt...well, it felt like it was supposed to happen. That freaked him out a lot more than did the prospect of a gay love affair with his best friend. He watched Vishous pace like a caged animal, and his almost feline eyes followed the big male around the room. The scent of the rolled cigarette filled the room, and to a degree, comforted him. It was familiar, it was pleasant, and it calmed them both down. Okay. Picking up the half spilled scotch, and looking down at the tiny puddle with disdain, Butch took a big shot for confidence and wiped his mouth before going further into the room. "You wanna tell me just what the fuck has gotten into you tonight?" he asked the dark haired male, narrowing his eyes slightly. "I'm not saying I hated that, but I do wanna know what's got your boxers in such a bunch."

Another growl slipped past parted lips as Vishous exhaled smoke once more. He was not one to talk about his feelings, that was something he just did not do. Turning to face Butch, his eyes narrowed, "You know what the fuck just happened," He snapped, voice deep. He pushed past the cop and went straight for the kitchen, grabbing a fresh bottle of goose and a glass. Full glass in hand, he settled against the counter, eyes locked on the contents of his glass, swirling the liquid around. As Butch joined him, he finally let out a groan and spoke, "Jane is gone. As in, not coming back. Never to be seen again. And now this shit with you and Marisa. It's too much man. Too much," He brought the glass to his lips, but hesitated a moment before downing the contents, not wanting to erase the sweet taste of Butch. It felt as if a hand had wrapped fingers around his heart and gave a rough squeeze. His breath left his lungs in a gasp, the pain becoming almost unbearable. Butch was the only person he had ever really felt close to, aside Jane, and still, there had been things even she hadn't known. The cop, his cop, there he went again, was the only one he could be open with, honest with. His cop wouldn't judge, wouldn't push him away...wouldn't think him a freak. And that alone scared him.

He followed him into the kitchen, keeping pace with his long strides and then following him back into the room. He was not letting V out of his sight for a single minute, and that came to fruition when he told him about Jane. To be honest, that was only a matter of time, he had thought. From the moment Jane had died and had been brought back as a spirit via a favor of the Scribe Virgin, he, and most of the other Brothers knew that this could not be a permanent situation. Sure, his cursed hand could turn her solid again, but what kind of relationship was that? It was something they'd all kept to themselves, and to a degree, Butch thought even V knew that she couldn't stay forever as she was. He was bound to lose her one way or another, even if it hadn't been that way. Jane had been a human. She'd have aged and died anyway. The way she went was just...unconventional. Now he was mad. Butch's brown-gold eyes flared, and he bunched his fists by his side. "Why the hell didn't you say something about that!? Vishous, that is the kind of shit you TELL a guy! I don't care how dark and mysterious you are! We're supposed to be friends." Or more than that. Hell, he was not 100% sure what the fuck was going on between them. Whatever it was, it had him on edge. "So no! As it happens, I did NOT know that, fuck you very much, because you don't tell me anything!" The Irish temper was coming out now, and he knew he'd have to apologize later. Butch took long strides across the bed room and stood in front of Vishous, his eyes flashing as he peered up at the slightly taller man. He was shaking now, partially nerves, partially his temper, but he wasn't sure what to do. "V... You don't have to hide from me. You know that, damn it. And things like that...that's something we could have dealt with together. But goddamn, man... You have to TELL a brother. You can't always suffer alone, ya know. That's something this rag-tag gang of assholes we call the Brotherhood taught me to do. Team-work. And you know that shit's stronger with us. I don't know why, but it's always been that way. Stronger than what they got. Hell, stronger than what me and Marissa ever had." Open mouth, insert foot.

Vishous spoke, voice low, deadly, eyes unmoving from his glass, "I didn't...couldn't grasp it man, I couldn't let myself believe that it was over, the end," His hand shook, causing the liquid to slosh around. He closed his eyes and swallowed his pulse. His whole body was shaking, eyes squeezed tight as he forced himself to stop the break down he felt coming. Vishous' grip on his glass tightened, causing cracks to spread, cracks that quickly caused the glass to shatter. The shards fell as he opened his hand, eyes focused on the blood that was now pouring down his hand, dripping from his fingers. "This..." He whispered, "Us...I don't know," He looked up then, eyes bright, unable to hit the emotion that hid behind long, black lashes, "You can't want this...me," His eyes never moved from Butch's as he continued on, "You've always known, fuck man, I told you. I just...fuck," He was at a loss for words, him, Vishous, the man of many words, could not find the words to express the feelings, the emotions that were taking over. "And now...with Marissa...you cannot...there's just not way. It's not logical, or realistic," His eyes finally dropped, focused once more on his bleeding hand.

Butch's pupils dilated when the blood rushed out of Vishous' hand that way. His stomach clenched and his fangs elongated. Hunger rumbled in his very being, and the scent of the other male made him feel slightly dizzy with want. Yes, Marissa had had blood he craved, yes, he had loved feeding from her, and yes, he had even adored kissing her. He had loved everything about that woman. And she threw him away, not the other way around. In a way, his gut told him this might be a good thing that she had done. The woman's image planted itself in his brain, and he shook it away by force, his bright eyes locked on those diamond optics of Vishous', unblinking. He had always been entranced by that bizarre, swirling color, and his knees went temporarily weak looking at him, though it never showed, and he regained his composure by some incomprehensible stretch of the imagination. For the first time in their history as friends and roommates, it was Vishous who was cracking, and not Butch. Vishous, so strong and unbreakable, finally showing the stress fractures that had been long carved into him by his father. This particular instance wasn't related to the man's family history, but it was The Bloodletter who had taught him to shun emotion and embrace virility and anger instead. Butch understood that. He was Irish Catholic. Anger was kind of their thing. When Vishous insinuated that Butch couldn't possibly want him, Butch's eyes narrowed to glittering, hazel slits. "Who the fuck decided that, V? You didn't even bother to ask me if I wanted that shit. Don't be an asshole and put words in my mouth. You know I fucking hate that." the Irishman snarled, advancing to the sink where he withdrew a clean rag. He took Vishous' hand and brushed the broken glass off of the wound, pausing to look at it. No serious damage, and the glass was all gone, nothing stuck. Butch lifted V's hand to his lips and flicked his tongue over the gash, tasting the blood and vodka mix there. It tasted...dark. Not that you could taste a color, but that was what was on Butch's tongue. Darkness, complexity, Vishous. He'd be able to know that taste anywhere. Like the back of his hand. He ran his tongue over his lower lip and dropped V's hand, his eyes unwavering, locked on Vishous.

Butch's words slammed into Vishous with an intensity like no other. Was it possible that his cop wanted him the same way that he wanted his cop. His thoughts whirled at a blinding speed, unable to latch onto any one thought. The only person in his life who was willing to stand up to him, willing to face whatever danger may come their way, was Butch. Maybe it was the cop in him, keeping him on one thing, hook, line and sinker until it was figured out, solved, had finally been put to an end. Whatever it was should not have had Vishous standing there, knees weak, heated and quickly becoming aroused. Not. A. Single. Fucking. Thing. And yet, there he stood, unable to keep himself under control. Control was his strong suit, the one thing he always had, not matter what the situation, but there he stood with Butch before him, without a single ounce of that safely gaurded control. When Butch reached out and grabbed his hand, his body went stiff. The heat that Butch put off had him dizzy. When the cop brushed the glass from his palm and he felt the warm, slightly rough brush of his tongue against his skin, he nearly lost it. When he looked up and met his eyes, it was entirely too much. It was like the world had disappeared, vanished in the blink of an eye. No one existed, except Butch. MINE. His mind screamed at him. With a sharp gasp, Vishous closed his eyes, unable to bare his friends stare a moment longer, head dropping. This could not be happening.

"Hell. I can't be botherin' you that badly." the Bostonian said softly, his accent still apparent despite the New York residence he had taken for the last few years. His heritage was certainly not questioned. "I really wish you wouldn't go into that damn shell of yours every time something bugs you." Butch told him, his voice very low, as if talking to a child, afraid to frighten him. "You're as bad as Zsadist. But at least Zsadist will show it when he's havin' trouble. But you...? You're somethin' else, V." He picked up V's hand again, to look at the wound, pleased to see that it was already healing itself. Well, surely, the son of the Virgin would have no problems regenerating like that. "Don't make decisions for me, damn it. If I didn't like you kissing me like that, I would have had the nuts to at least punch you in yours." He lifted Vishous' head, forcing the dark haired male to look at him. "I thought we were clear on that. Back when you developed that weird-o man crush on me before Marissa gave me the time of day. I told you back then that it wasn't my thing, but here lately, I don't know. I loved Marissa. I did. She was my shellan. Like you loved Jane." Butch didn't like that he was the short one here, it made it hard for him to assert his authority in this situation, which he got a chance to do so rarely. "But this is so fucking different. SO fucking different. I don't even know what this is." Butch ground his teeth together. His fangs still hurt for the taste of Vishous in his mouth, but he ignored it. This was more important. Vishous was hurting right now, and it was his job, as his friend, and...as more, to fix this. Butch took a step forward, both amazed and disgusted by how the bigger male could just encompass him that way, how safe he could feel in this instant. Nothing in this world could touch him right now. He set his head against V's shoulder, lowering his eyelashes over his bright eyes. "This is fucked up, ya know that? This is usually the other way around. When you gotta come rescue my stupid ass from some kind of issue."

MINE. My cop. My Butch. His brain screamed as his friend spoke. With his emotions stripped of their tight leash, his actions were unpredictable. Even more so with Butch standing in front of him, separating their bodies by mere inches. He let out a soft laugh as Butch's comment broke through the tirade of thoughts. His hands on his shoulders, bodies so close. He did the only thing he could think to do, he leaned in, closing the distance between them, lips meeting once more, softer this time. He groaned, unsure and extremely unsteady as his hands landed on the cop's hips, lips a gentle caress. His tongue slipped out, asking, begging the cop to let him in, some part of him praying that the cop wanted him, prayed he would accept him and not push him away. I want your skin against mine, your fangs in my flesh, mine in yours. Vishous whispered through Butch's mind. He was unable to say the words aloud. Something about the way the stood, the conversation they had just had made it okay to whisper through his mind, but he quickly found himself tacking more on, I know this makes me a sick, dilusional freak, but I can't keep hiding this. I want...no, I need you cop.

V's voice echoed in his head, and he felt himself swoon at the feeling that flushed his body. He was suddenly warm, suddenly forgetting that anything at all had upset him. Marissa would be back to haunt his mind later, but for now, she was gone. Only Vishous occupied that space now. He held all of his senses in his grasp. Vishous had that effect on him, Butch realized. He took all Butch had and held it hostage until he surrendered. And surrender he did. Vishous' attentions were more appealing this time, not quite so harsh, not quite so much an attack, but a hesitant invitation. Butch accepted it this time, now that he had some warning, and he practically melted in Vishous' hands. He felt beneath his jeans the silk texture of his black glove and the calloused roughness of his natural hand. "You're none a' that." Butch replied in their own private line, something so unbelievably intimate, something that fit their bond so closely. "You've never been a damn freak. Not to me." V had always known that. Butch had always been oddly accepting of the man's weird traits, had always taken hi as he was and never questioned a thing. At the mention of such carnal pleasures, fangs in flesh and such close contact, he flushed, and his whole body warmed to V's touch. "Then don't disappoint me, dammit. My first man to man...thing...had better not suck." he said privately, breaking the kiss to look up at him with a teasing glint in his eye.

Vishous hissed into Butch's accepting mouth, his now full erection straining against the cotton of his sweats. He deepened the kiss, tasting blood as his tongue rubbed alone one of Butch's fangs. The male before him had just granted him the one thing no one ever had. Full. Fucking. Acceptance. And damn did that feel good. His grip tightened on Butch's hips, pulling his cop closers, but not close enough to feel just how excited this all had him. He didn't want to freak the cop out, slow, slow was good. The last thing he wanted, hell the last thing he needed, was for Butch to bolt. A soft, unashamed moan slipped from him as his back relaxed against the counter, no longer stiff, but feeling almost...relaxed. All tension lost between them. That was, until Vishous realized exactly what was happening and where it could end up. He jerked back suddenly, hands landing on the lip of the counter, grip tight enough to crack the marble. He hung his head as his body shook, his massive erection on display for all to see. He had lost control, lost it completely and utterly. Suddenly, the image of Butch close, mouth at his neck shot into his brain, causing a shudder to roll through him as his chest heaved with the effort to breath. He could feel Butch right in front of him, their scents mingled, along with the sweet tang of sex and...something darker.

His mouth was still full of the taste of Vishous, and his whole body was tingling. He had practically smashed their groins together, and Butch's own erection was throbbing against his jeans. It ached, actually it damn well hurt. He had only had an erection for Marissa before, she was who kept him up, but...Vishous was a guy, and here he was, with an aching stiffy trapped inside the world's most indestructible jeans. While that made no sense, Butch ditched the thought, saying fuck logic for now, and seeing where this went. Butch was in no rush to get in over his head with something like this, and erotic playtime with another guy was something he knew absolutely nothing about. Perhaps they could just ease into this, he thought. Move slowly for now until Butch knew how comfortable he was with this. He looked at Vishous for a long moment, and then he cracked a grin. "God, you always gotta make shit so tense, don't you?" Butch knew where he wanted to start. He was fucking starving. Butch approached Vishous and braced his hands on the now cracked counter, his fangs sinking into the thick skin of Vishous' throat. The dark, hot blood poured into his mouth, and Butch just sighed. It was so good. He had never imagined that feeding could feel this nice, or taste this fucking wonderful. When he had taken what he wanted, he pulled back, blood dripping from his fangs, down the side of his lip, and then falling off in ruby droplets down his chin. He stared up at V for a distended moment, and he smiled, turning around. He glanced back over his shoulder one time. "That's enough for one night, don't you think? I'm new to this whole...dude thing, and I'm not sure I wanna skip all the way up to the grand finale." He waggled his hips as he walked away, grinning like a fiend. "And besides, what kinda guy do you think I am? I mean, shit!" he said, clearly teasing, as he disappeared.

His whole body was an aching ball of need as he stood there, tremors rolled throughout him, causing full body shakes and spasms. When Butch spoke, that accent sinking into him. He blinked in response, breath squeezing out of him as he continued to struggle with breathing. Butch did crazy things to him, had since the day they met. As he stood there, staring at the cop, he couldn't imagine his life without him. This was Butch, crazy ass cop. Unafraid and blunt. A groan was ripped from his mouth as Butch stepped forward, mouth seeking his neck before fangs meet flesh. Never, in his life had someone taken his vein. Everything vanished in a rush of pure ecstasy as Butch took long, hard pulls. Taking him in, drinking him down. His grip on the counter tightened more, gasps escaping him. When the cop pulled away, the site of him with V's blood on his fangs, a small line down his chin caused something inside of him to explode. When Butch turned, talking over his shoulder as he walked away, Vishous couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, lighting his eyes up. It was a true smile. One he couldn't have wiped off his face if he tried.