Ezra Harlow

Sasha blinked. There was a moment of hesitation where he had to bite back an instinctive ‘Hel-lo, handsome.’ “Ezra,” he said by way of greeting instead. And a smirk touched his lips at the next words that left the other. “Please don’t tell me you’re actually out here playing that game. I get enough of it at the museum – curse whoever’s decision it was to make it a, what do you call it? A Pokestop.” Sasha wasn’t out of touch with technology, but this was certainly something that he had yet to find the appeal in. Create an app where you seek out different types of plants or something and he’d be totally all in – perhaps he should try and find someone who could make that.

“I got your text,” he said after a beat. And, despite the fact that it was merely habit, he added, “I’m sorry for not getting in touch sooner.” It sounded so formal. It made him feel guilty. Lamely, he added, “Work’s been keeping me busy. Reckon I should just start sleeping in my office.”

He was nervous, admittedly, hadn’t realized Sasha approached him earnestly in return. If only he were aware. “.. As if I needed another reason to come bug visit you at work. ‘guess I’ve got one now.” With a hand Ezra waved his phone in a harmless threat before stuffing the thing in his back pocket. No time for that now, no need, and he may have been exaggerating to break the tension. Just a fad like any other.

How could someone who was dead feel as many emotions as he was feeling at that moment? There was the anger, there was relief that Ezra was willing to reach out to him, there was hope that Ezra didn’t yet hate him, and deep inside was the burn of shame. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. More emotions that he couldn’t name, emotions that didn’t even have names, swirled in him like a violent tempest.

Surely Ezra knew enough to know that he was feeling like this. And if he was willing to brave such a hurricane, who was Sasha to deny him? Ezra had never shied away from storms before.

He snatched up his phone and his chest constricted at the simple message Ezra had sent to him. The relief and hope were there again, though trailing behind them like the tortoise after the hare was the slightest inkling of suspicion – which made Sasha feel guilty. It was in his nature not to trust – hadn’t his willingness to trust others as a human been what had ended his life? – but Ezra had proven time and time again that he deserved it.

Sasha didn’t respond to the text. He pocketed his phone and clicked off the desk lamp, bathing the office in complete darkness – it was like a balm to his soul, the dark. The mistrust disappeared, the storm in him settled, and there was nothing but the darkness. He slipped out of his office like a shadow, locking up and easily avoiding any of the others at the museum who may have stayed late like him.

He knew were Ezra was waiting for him, oh yes. And he found himself almost desperate to get there, desperate to get to him. And when he came nearer to the intersection, the familiar scent of his lover only encouraged him to move faster. But when his eyes landed on Ezra’s broad form, Sasha drew to a slight stop – the tempest had returned and he didn’t know what emotion was closest to the surface. He said nothing, not trusting himself to not start a fight.

He had high hopes for Sasha and in the end a bit of that new hope became instilled in himself. A gift Ezra supposed they’d given to one another.

The ancient wasn’t swayed by a mocking or curious gaze, not from anyone, but like a magnet he was drawn to one on his back. It may have been a coincidence, but Ezra turned on his heel and saw the dark, gorgeous, creature lingering toward the alleys opening. Hidden till he was found by Harlow. Ezra almost considered this vision a trick of the light, but there was no mistaking Sasha for a blinking street lamp--he only wished that he could stop staring back. In silence. Stupidly. The fear of intimidating Devitt to make a run for it was very real. As if the young vampire was more of a stray kitten than a powerful mighty terrifying beast.

Ezra had no clue if Sasha received his text, had and come for him, or if this was all just about hunger. A dirty sort of desire to dine with the ancient. Ezra settled on the fact that he truly didn’t care for the truth. All that mattered was seeing Sasha now. In the flesh.

Biting his lower lip, Harlow flashed a pleasant grin toward Sasha; far more characteristic than his stoic gaze filled with self-pity and longing. He took a step toward Sasha, then another, casually. As if they’d only been apart for the last twenty minutes. Been lost and found again. And, really, for an ancient... it almost felt just like that.

“Evening.” Ezra said, and smiled a bit more after, because he wasn’t sure if a love would sneak in there somewhere by accident. Apparently not. “This is probably the worst square in the city to play PokemonGo...”

His office at the Burke Museum was dark and quiet. There was a single lamp turned on, and it cast a small yellow spotlight across the surface of his cluttered desk, leaving the rest of the room bathed in ambiguous shadows. He’d been there all day — would have normally been out of there by now — but he felt no urge to leave just yet. He wasn’t done nursing his wounded pride, he reckoned.

Avoidance. That was the word to describe what he was doing, wasn’t it?

With a scoff, Sasha pushed himself to his feet and neared the single window behind the chair most of his days were spent in. He moved the curtains aside and peered out into the night, sweeping his gaze across the darkened street below. He fingered his glasses in his jacket pocket. It’d been an overcast day, although still far brighter than he preferred, but the glasses were more to him than that — they’d become something of a security blanket to him by now. Wearing them made it easier to conceal what he was thinking or feeling. Made him feel protected. Even now, alone and safe in his office, he was tempted to put them on.

Was he avoiding Ezra? It’d been a few days, certainly. A dark part of him pointed out that a better explanation was that he was hiding from him. He almost wanted to growl at the very notion — he’d done his fair share of hiding in his life. He was done hiding. From anyone or anything.

But what else could be said? He’d been stubborn and mean, and Ezra hadn’t just let him get away with it, like usual. He’d argued back. Tempers had flared and emotions had spiked, and Sasha Devitt had made a scene. He wasn’t even really sure what the real reason was that he hadn’t yet reached out to Ezra — was he punishing the older vampire for daring to stand up to him, or was he afraid that he was still too angry to face him? 

Anger. It was an emotion he still wasn’t good at – one he tried, he swore he tried – to keep from expressing to Ezra, who, admittedly, had been so good to him thus far. And yet… control. It was all about control and how he was lacking in it. And that was perhaps the most frustrating thing about it all. Fifty-seven years on this earth, twenty of them as a vampire, and yet his rage turned him into an animal. 

Out of place. Humans, vampires, umbrellas became something else once every year in Washington state. It was the first time Ezra found himself feeling much like the dependable black parasol. Closed and dripping mere inches from the doorway. He should be playing his usual song, dress his part, get closer to that warmth every vampire craved from living beings. Yet, that sort of scene was where Ezra belonged, frequented, and so in light of this annual celebration he’d strayed down a new street. To be properly out of place.

At the end of the alleyway was the shut door, beyond that, up the stairs, were his people. Humans who didn’t know any better, but who’d come to accept the man, the lie, anyway. At Ezra’s back was the truth, a darkness he endeavored to avoid, but this night was special. It stood apart from all the rest. Between burning heat and bitter cold. He was cast aside, probably for good reason, and if Ezra contemplated on the incident deep enough he might just find that life would be better if he tethered to his old ways.

But he was loyal,

            dependable,

                         he was Sasha’s black parasol.

Designed to shelter him from the sun and rain through every season.

The light from Ezra’s mobile screen strained his powerful eyes as he dared to reconsider this; His life, what it meant to keep Sasha in it, and this final choice that could determine the outcome for both men. With a nod of his head that doubled as a single shake to the side the Carmikael sent his text message to his distant love. His keeper and child all in one. Every day since his rebirth, Ezra had questioned the unbeaten path he chose to tread, alone. With Sasha, docile or furious, the course no longer seemed dark, damp, treacherous like the alley Ezra stood now. It seemed right.

His smirk returned at Ezra’s teasing. “Fairly new. Firefighters have never stirred in me quite what you do,” he said, with as much sexual suggestion in his voice as he could manage. Had he any shame, he might have felt embarrassed at the reminder of how he’d behaved when Ezra had discovered his favorite leather jacket from his old life. “If I had a type, I suppose the whole rebel-without-a-cause is it. Or perhaps it’s just you. Perhaps you’re my type and no matter what you do, I’ll always be a raging, insatiable beast.” To emphasize or punctuate his words, Sasha pulled hard on Ezra’s hair, tilting his head back and exposing his throat, though he did nothing but bring his other hand up, allowing the tips of his fingers to trace a prominent vein up the side of Ezra’s broad neck.

Ezra’s reaction to the chaste kiss made Sasha feel more powerful than any of the heightened abilities he’d been gifted with did. It was as though there was a monster inside of him, one separate from the monster he already was, and it all but trembled in delight at how responsive Ezra was to him, and a dark voice whispered through Sasha like a soft breeze through trees in the night: mine, mine, mine.

“Maybe you have entered a new level of hell,” Sasha said playfully, “Maybe I’m not who you think I am. I’m clever and oh-so-pretty, just like the devil himself, you know.” And he grinned as Ezra’s hands slid to his front, fingers going to the fly of his pants. It would never get old seeing those green eyes looking up at him, especially when Ezra’s intentions were clear as they were now. Sasha chuckled, his eyebrows raising slightly. “I’m plenty generous, but if you want to find out for yourself, rosebud, be my guest. You won’t find me trying to stop you.”

Sasha made Ezra remember what it was to have faultless enlivened hunger. And it should leave him terrified to his very core, but he didn’t want to hunt, Ezra only wished that he could have tasted Sasha’s life before his heart stopped beating.

Though they both knew he would never have taken the chance if he’d had it.

He managed his instincts, kept his fangs tucked and tame, but those eyes flickered up to find Sasha’s through the growing darkness. “You shouldn’t say things like that...” Ezra fussed, but there was no bite, no bite at all. He might as well have asked for more.

There was no time to speak, shoot back at his lover with more wit--more frivolous excuses to waste time, while his scalp was once again tugged back and his neck completely exposed. His skin stretched with it, a thick scar exposing itself beneath the collar above his left peck, the permanent souvenir given to him by a werewolf centuries ago. A dog who was long dead by now. In the end, Ezra won the true contest, and even a Carmikael as noble as himself could find humor in that. He knew how stupid it was to be in this situation. Sasha could easily twist his head clear off his shoulders if he cared to right now, (or perhaps he couldn’t, Ezra never tested the theory) but that didn’t faze Harlow the way it should have, not when he’d welcomed death, sought it out, hundreds if not thousands of times. He’d rather Devitt kill him than any other vampire they knew collectively.

"If this is hell, I would like to stay here, with you, forever. ... And I don’t really give a shit about what I know, about you, or anything else. Not now.” Especially when Sasha practiced such control between the both of them. Gliding his hand down expertly while the other braced Ezra even still. That part was maddening, made him feel like a lascivious dog in heat, but when the young vampire welcomed his palms back in place Harlow went straight to work. His light-sensitive eyes finally fell forward, shining in passing like a cat or owl through the darkness, and he savored the fantastic pattern of hair trail down and fade at Sasha’s hips to expose clear ivory. He was already perfect, Ezra felt downright spoiled once he’d exposed the rest of him, though this wasn’t his first time admiring his lover Ezra’s thirst came to a sharp head.

“I just said I liked it, didn’t I?” Sasha feigned a bit of frustration, as though Ezra never listened to him, but a chuckle left him as Ezra’s burly arms curled further around him, pulling him closer. “You may regret saying that one day, you know. ‘All eternity’ is a very, very long time, and I am a very, very insufferable man once you get to know me.” And yet, if there was anyone in existence who’d ever gotten to know him, it was certainly Ezra. Even with the stuff Sasha still kept from him, there was no one in the world who knew Sasha the way he did.

He turned his head away as a surprised little laugh left him — whether it was because he thought he could hide it or not — and he said, “Oh, no, I certainly prefer you without any clothing at all, you’ve got that right. But your uniform is a close second. Makes you look all strong and heroic and like a Harlequin romance author’s wet dream.” And suddenly Sasha was thinking about the humans Ezra must have unwittingly infatuated in his time — and why wouldn’t he? He was beautiful and charming and did good work as a firefighter and a philanthropist. For all intents and purposes, he was perfect. And everyone loved a man who could make music, yes?

All too abruptly, Sasha was struck with the urge to keep him under lock and key from here on out. Deep down, he didn’t like the idea of others even looking at Ezra. But he would never act on it. He knew all too well what it was like to be a prisoner.

When Ezra’s hands came up to Sasha’s glasses, almost gentle in how they grabbed them and pulled them away, Sasha ducked his head a little. The glasses were mostly for during the day when he had to venture outside — he assumed it was his youth that had the sun and sky, even on commonly overcast days, plaguing him with headaches and pain. Perhaps it was even Georgine’s fault, like so many other things wrong in his life, the aforementioned way he was kept prisoner, under her thumb and at her will. She’d kept him inside for the majority of their time together, taking him out only when she’d wanted to show him off, and only at night. Daylight had been an experience for him once she’d finally left him alone.

“Everyone deserves a little credit every now and then,” Sasha said with a smirk. And maybe he did give Ezra too much. To be fair, his experience with those like Ezra was less than enjoyable, and maybe he projected a lot onto Ezra simply because he was different. But he was good, there was no doubt. He watched as Ezra set the glasses aside, almost wanting them back because he was used to being better able to hide and control his expression that way, but he didn’t reach for them. He frowned a little at Ezra’s next words. You can trust me. With anything. Sasha wanted to believe it. He wanted more than anything to believe it — almost the way a child wants to believe in fairy tales, he’d expect. He offered up a little laugh that sounded more bitter than he’d have liked, and he tried to joke, “I don’t suppose I know how to trust anyone or thing — we all have our flaws. But I appreciate the sentiment, my dear.”

“Hah, more like your wet dream...” He teased, flattered by Devitt’s round-about compliments, still wearing the cheekiest of grins. “is it a new fantasy for you to dwell on? Leather seemed to mean a great deal to you last time I visited your... lair. Certainly not the heroic look, more rebel-without-a-cause.” For all the secrets Sasha kept Harlow feared he would bore the younger man with how forward he could be. Part of him liked to believe that his openness brought Sasha close in the first place. Perhaps he was only kidding himself.

He was an original vampire who spent his time saving rather than killing... but since becoming a monster over one thousand years ago he never considered himself very impressive. There was no real challenge, after all. The hunger, of course, but Ezra conquered that too. More with his conscience than any physical rejection.

Sasha was young, sensitive, and he wasn’t open. There was a clear struggle tethered on his shoulders and Ezra wanted to help. At the very least, he wanted to be there. He didn’t look at the man as a surrogate progeny, there were laws, a greater few that Ezra had made for himself, he wasn’t Sasha’s maker. He wouldn’t try to be, dream, because to be a friend, a lover, a confidant was so much more real to a creature like him. In Ezra’s opinion, Sasha should never be controlled.

Considering the hour it seemed appropriate to slide the glasses away. He meant no harm, he only wanted to see... those glistening brown eyes. The pure joy and rapture in them that appeared with even the most slight grins. Devitt was shut tight, but he could be so wonderfully expressive. Like a sunset, there were just too many angles too look, Ezra was confident that he wouldn’t be capable of witnessing and memorizing each and every variation.

One unique smile appeared right then, but it was more of a physical cringe. Neither of them could give into the others honest words, no matter how heartfelt, or well thought out. He hardly felt a sting. “That’s something we share in common,” The older vampire mused, before catching himself. “or did, because I met you.” He couldn’t hide an innocent boyish smile, but offered an agreeable nod, submitting to Sasha’s decision on the matter. “We all have our flaws.”

As Ezra looked up at Sasha, clearly affected by what Sasha had said, Sasha’s playful smirk softened, his brown eyes going warmer. He’d said it in jest but it meant so much to Ezra that he was good — where were the others like Ezra Harlow? Why had Sasha not yet met another who strove for goodness? It almost made Sasha feel unworthy himself. His hand moved from Ezra’s hair to his jaw, keeping Ezra’s face aimed up so he could hold his gaze as he spoke firmly, “You were born good, Ezra. It’s inherent in you. In your very genetic makeup. And it’s beautiful, yes? Don’t ever let the rest of our kind try to convince you otherwise.” And perhaps he had no authority to speak on the matter, both as a turned vampire and as one so dreadfully young at that. But it didn’t mean he didn’t believe in his own words.

His smirk returned as Ezra complimented his name. “Keep talking,” he said, almost impishly. “I may already be utterly charmed by you, darling, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the effort.” And it was as if Ezra did this sort of stuff on purpose, as if he’d been made to do it. Sasha told him how much he enjoyed hearing him say his name, so here he was, saying it again. Breathing it out soft and easy, nearly submissively, and it was almost enough to make Sasha lose himself. Goodness was Ezra’s life’s endeavor, whereas control was Sasha’s. And Sasha had thought he’d mastered it until he’d met Ezra — every time they got close like this it was a challenge, but it was one that Sasha found himself winning more often than not. And perhaps this was why they’d found one another. Ezra was there to teach Sasha better composure and restraint, and Sasha was there to teach Ezra that he was already good enough.

“What would you do without me?” Sasha asked softly. It translated to, what would I do without you?

“Oh you like it, do you?” And how it pleased him to hear. Ezra readjusted his hold once again, curling his arms further up and around Sasha’s torso before pulling him close, to breach any distance between. The chuffed vampire released a content sigh, Comparing Sasha to a school girl brought a bubbliness to his lifeless chest. It seemed the younger was holding nothing back tonight. His words could bring Ezra to his knees, and had on occasion, “You’re never going to be rid of me now, love, signed away any moment of privacy for all eternity.” The long white smile couldn’t be tamed while he teased.

“I thought you preferred me without clothing... or was that a ‘heat of the moment’ sort of statement.” Ezra knew very well how good the uniform looked on him, but even the few gangly humans he worked beside could work the shirt and suit surprisingly well. So, Harlow much preferred being likened to Sasha’s shiny toy, no one else received quite an honor after all. The beast was completely still while Sasha’s voice filled the silent room. Harlow wanted to be cleansed by the words, reborn even, but that wouldn’t be honest. To feel this guilt, for so long, wasn’t healthy by any means. But it was proof that Ezra had compassion and he couldn’t hate that part of himself. They were two halves of one whole, a yin and yang, one could not possibly survive without the other. Yet, Ezra understood the younger spoke only from his beliefs, not what he wished to wipe from the original, but what needed to be embraced, the part of Ezra that brought a glimmer of delight to Sasha’s well hidden eyes.

As Ezra pressed his cheek to Sasha’s stomach, speaking slowly and candidly, Sasha gazed down at him with only the kind of fondness he reserved for moments when Ezra wasn’t looking at him. Hearing the other admit to something like this made something seem to awaken in Sasha’s chest, as though his heart were attempting to start to beat again. He smiled, feeling both pleased and something else, but instead of being quite as honest as Ezra, he decided to say simply, playfully, “I do so enjoy hearing you say my name, you know.” And it wasn’t a lie, it just wasn’t the truth sitting at the front of his mind – the truth he didn’t want to acknowledge just yet. That he felt nearly the same. 

Sasha knocked Ezra clear off his feet with that powerful statement, yet the original came to a halt. His head tilted upward, and he quietly asked, “Am I?” The question didn’t seem fair to propose, but it was too late to take it back. Ezra knew Sasha wouldn’t allow him to. The grip on Devitt’s hip tightened in the slightest. Ezra valued him so much. They weren’t connected by blood, but the constant need he had for Sasha, the pain that came with this need and the risk of losing him... had to be similar. That, or very very human. He hoped for the latter.

“I know,” he said smoothly. His intuition had always done him right – Ezra may have had years on him, but somehow, Sasha was almost too good at reading people, perceiving the thoughts they might not even have known they had. At least, it was a talent he’d picked up after he’d been turned. Would have come in handy when he was a human, naturally, and he might have stayed away from the woman who destroyed his mortal life, but there was that pesky fate thing again. Or was it circumstance? And Ezra was honest. He was good. It made his intentions seem all the more clear in a way. Sasha watched as he worked to wind the cord because really, Ezra was built magnificently, wasn’t he? And the way his arm flexed with just the simplest of motions was hypnotic. But Sasha was too happy to distract him once he’d gotten enough of a view. The way Ezra seemed to go pliant at his touch, the way it seemed like he’d have been holding his breath had he had any – made Sasha feel more powerful than anything else ever had. 

Another laugh escaped him as Ezra wrapped his big arms around Sasha and pulled him in. And perhaps Sasha would have held his breath as well if he’d had any. 

He remained nestled there while his hand curved around Sasha’s left side before settling in that perfect dip between his hip and torso. “... It’s not bad... not at all.” Ezra reassured. This might be a fantasy they were living, but Ezra had chosen with a clear mind and heart. It was not a game to him, but there was no chance he’d hold anything against Sasha if he were to leave and continue exploring his life else where. Alone or with someone. For as long as this could last Ezra Carmikael would give of himself with pleasure. There were a great number of reasons he’d chosen Sasha out of the many people he’d known after all, but really, the younger vampire had done some of his own choosing too. Despite how willing he was to let Sasha have his way, Ezra felt relieved to hear Sasha longed for a similar picture he had in mind.

“Despite what I said, it... It is like my soul has longed for you for a very long time, Sasha.” He admitted, cheek pressed against Sasha’s navel while he stared through one of his many large windows at the city outside. A hand eased through the curls of his short hair. The contact made Ezra’s green eyes roll back before his lids closed over. “... I didn’t know you when I found you, but... you knew me... so maybe something was meant to be through that grand scheme.”

“I didn’t say that.” Ezra argued while propping his guitar against the bed. “... But I certainly meant it.” There was no fooling either of them and Ezra simply never could go full asshole. That honor was reserved for a chosen few. His arm twisted about while he wound up the cord between his computer and guitar. It was much too long for his purposes at home, more ideal for performing at a venue and he hoped to do that sooner rather than later. The original was distracted the moment Sasha’s fingers were on his face, he’d been distracted by his work, and now he was distracted by the dashing, debonair, and very sexy youngster. So distracted it was rather pathetic, just how Sasha made it seem when he talked of how Ezra was weak and easy, but so what? He’d always been pathetic. Depressed, scared. It was high time to be pathetic in all the right ways. Sasha was soft, like a flower petal, or a moth’s wing, tracing decisively across his form like this. Capturing him. It made Ezra go still and he felt secure. There was the realization that Sasha’s eyes were fixated on him in much the same way--if not exactly the same--even as he spoke. “Idealistic...” A sharp but bright smile appeared, before he dropped the wire and curved his strong arms around Sasha’s waist. Drawing him to his chest. “completely idealistic. Kind of... like this. This pickle we find ourselves in.”

He didn’t want Sasha to stop touching him.