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Post-ritual, the Cursed Apple was always quiet. The smell of gunpowder wafted through the air, accentuated by smoke clouds and blood splatters from various team fights. The Doorman and Drifter's team left the ritual victorious, so the ginger bellhop gazed upon the destruction with pride.

Rhythmic clicks of barely scuffed work shoes echoed down the street as Doorman made his way back to his work & home: The Baroness. He straightened his cotton gloves, before frowning at the dirt and dried blood that taints them.

"I can't remember the last time I had to kill someone with my own hands," The cosmic being thought out loud, opting to remove his gloves entirely for the time being. Afterall, he intended to change into a clean uniform anyway. Similar stains to the ones on his gloves also sullied his burgundy jacket as he walked.

After a short while, he stepped onto the entrance of the prestigious hotel and unclipped a key from his back pocket. He made sure to always close The Baroness during rituals - it's a pain for the guests, but requiring room service that won't arrive for an hour or two is also a pain. First, he used the golden key to unlock the tall and heavy front doors and then proceeded to open a portal door. He stepped through the glow it emitted into his personal suite and the stress of today's events immediately left him. The Doorman let a relieved sigh pass through his lips as he removed his uniform hat, then his jacket, then his shoes. He sat on the oak office chair to the side of his bed to untie plain black laces, making swift work of pulling the shoes off and placing them at the foot of his wardrobe. His hat resided on a plain mannequin head gifted to him by the hotel's resident tailor and his jacket folded neatly into his laundry basket. His work slacks, undershirt and socks joined the jacket after some deft movement of buttons & clasps.

Once fully undressed, the eldritch stepped into a black marble walk-in shower, sighing again as scalding water hit his freckled skin. He made sure to waste no time in washing himself, knowing he will have to - wants to - return to his work as soon as possible. The longest part of his routine was washing & conditioning his hair; the last thing he’d let happen is him looking even remotely unkept.

—

The Doorman's portal door took him to the lobby of The Baroness, where he stood proudly. He gave his new, clean uniform a once over, preparing to welcome in the hotel's evening guests.

The ginger bellhop placed a gloved hand on the doors of The Baroness once again, trademark customer service smile sitting comfortably on his face as he pulled them open. The evening air was crisp now that the smoke and violence had subsided, the trees in the front outdoor foyer sporting golden orange leaves. The Doorman's smile grew wider for a second as he compared the colour to his own locks. 

The peaceful scene was soon disrupted, though. A trademark smile turned into an irritated frown when the cosmic being saw Drifter turning a corner, stumbling as if half drunk. Maybe slightly injured, but most likely half drunk. Drunk on what, The Doorman didn't care. He cared about upholding the pristine conditions of his hotel and how letting the mangy vampire trample bloody footsteps into the spotless carpets—amongst other things—would make that near impossible. So, in an attempt to prevent this, The Doorman turned on his heel and closed the hotel's doors as the vampire steps closer.

"Hey—! Waituh goddamn minute you fuckin—" SLAM! 

The pristine doors were shut right in front of him, and were soon being pounded on by large, bloodied fists. The gruff vampire, known as Drifter, found himself locked outside of the hotel, hungry and desperate. 

"What's de big deal! Can't believe ya'd turn ya back onna ol' friend like me," The vampire cooed through the door. His claws gripped at the wood beneath it.

The entire ritual was a bust for him. He spent the entire time helping the team and not even being able to take one second to feast on the blood. Him! Of all people! Helping. And what does he get in return? Absolutely nothing besides an aching belly that growled for something to eat.

"I dun busted my ass out dere witchu' an dis is the tanks I get?" The vampire growled from behind the door, "You jus' as bad as de rest o' dem."

Upon closing the doors, the ginger opted for sorting the papers and logbook that sat on the lobby's mahogany desk. He made some slight progress before the shrill of Drifter's voice and fist harassed his eardrums. The Doorman attempted to complete his task as the vampire outside whinged on, but eventually the thumps of a crimson paw on the front doors rendered this impossible. 

With a sharp exhale, the cosmic being rounded the lobby desk and leaned on the side of the entrance that's yet to be tainted. A gloved hand unclipped his ring of keys and twirled it on his finger absentmindedly. 

"Oh please, Drifter! The lane was going catastrophically until I gave Seven the trip of a lifetime. If you couldn't make time to cater to your own needs that are on you, not on me," He shouted his reply, aware of how thick the doors are but not intending to argue, "Nevertheless, you will now be granted your wish by the Patron! Is that not thanks enough, or are you emotionally insatiable as well as physically insatiable?"

The pounding coming from the door ceased for a moment, as if the brute had walked away. Unfortunately for Doorman and any guests nearby, the following slams against the door practically shook the desk Doorman was standing at. It was soon followed by the grating sound of claws against the metal of the door.

"BULLSHIT! It ain't my fault workin' my ass off works up an appetite! I ain't sum freckled freak dat don’ gotta eat—I saved ya pathetic ass, ya owe me bellboy!" The brutish vampire shouted from behind the door, which were paired with less than friendly snarls.

It had been true, the vampire did save The Doorman one meager time... the danger having been caused by Drifter of course, but it was saving nonetheless.

If it hadn't been for the god behind the door that could split him in two with ease, the doors in front of him would've been torn down by now. They had an agreement. Drifter could come inside as long as no guests were harmed in any such way. ...But with the brute's ravenous appetite and no one around... he would definitely become a hazard sooner than later.

The Doorman simply rolled his eyes at the outburst, experiencing it many times before. 

"Do you mean when you forced me to follow you into an outnumbered lane? You must be forgetting yourself." His mind was cast back to the altercation that nearly destroyed their chances of success. 

The sound of claws scraping down the iron border between them caused one of the ginger's teal eyes to twitch. Instead of using the hunting skills he was so adamant he had, the vampire had decided to act like a feral cat in an old woman's garden. Unbelievable. Though, it also served as a reminder for the role of this building: to take in innocent and unassuming guests during their time in New York. The screaming and scratching must have distressed them greatly, the eldritch bellhop thought to himself. 

With a sigh, he spoke again, trying his hardest to hide his irritation with his voice. "Well, do you have a reservation, Drifter? I'm not too sure that The Baroness has a room that could... accommodate you at such short notice." The word 'accommodate' pushed its way through gritted teeth.

The scratching slowed down as the vampire listened keenly to the bellhop.

Chuffing through his teeth, the vampire growled once more. "Course I do, pretty boy, why dontcha..." Drifter hesitated for a moment, biding back the bile in his throat. He hated the traditions that higher ruling vampires had put upon themselves. Traditions that the vampire standing there, yowling like a cat, despised.

"Why dontcha.. check dat dere lil' book o' yours..." The vampire growled, "An’ may I please come in."

The single word had him twitching with rage; claws digging tightly into the frayed wood and chipping the paint.

Smugness pulled at the ginger's thin lips after the scraggly man made his request. He leaned against the door silently for a moment, the thought of Drifter's eyes narrowing and fangs being bared with irritation forcing The Doorman to stifle a laugh. 

Once he was bored of the taunt, he made a sound of deep thought, staring at the gold keys that spin around his finger. 

"Hmm. I'll be honest, I don't remember you making any reservations, but the last thing I would want is a mistake on my part to disrupt your stay at The Baroness. Please, give me a moment to check our logbook." 

Effortlessly, the cosmic being pushed himself off the door and strode back to the lobby desk. He opened the logbook - a thick, ruby leather bound hardback - and trailed a gloved finger down the list of reservations. To neither of the men's surprise, Drifter was nowhere to be seen. Freckled lips curled again at the satisfaction of turning away the mangy and feral dog would give him, but he inevitably decided against it. He knew doing so would cause more trouble than it's worth for the actual guests. 

His trademark smile and voice reappeared as he returned to his side of the door. "It appears I owe you my sincerest apologies, Drifter. Your name is in the logbook afterall! One of my colleagues must have checked you in but failed to communicate that to me," He lied, placing all but one of his keys back onto his pocket, "Please wait just a little while longer for me to make the necessary preparations to your room." 

Polished shoes walked away from the front door one final time so The Doorman could open a portal. As with the one at the start of the evening, the blue and yellow glow led to a pristine hotel room, conveniently with a spare sheet of fabric on its desk. The bellhop stepped inside the portal and closed it before spreading the off-white sheet onto the carpet before him. Once happy with the 'preparations', he opened another portal connected to the ceiling of the room and the pavement Drifter is standing on.

Before he could slam onto the door one last time, Drifter felt his feet give out from underneath him. With a yelp, the burly vampire slammed onto the white sheet beneath him. He wheezed out at the impact, clutching his sides with crimson claws. A few seconds of recollecting himself, and the beast soon snarled with a flash of his fangs.

After watching the vampire fall from the heavens with a heavy thud, The Doorman looked down and offered him a sickly sweet smile. His left arm was neatly tucked behind his back as his right gestured to the room both men are in.

"Welcome to The Baroness."

"Now listen here—" The vampire began, but was quickly cut off. Drifter had gotten onto fours, ready to pounce, but the silky sheet had only managed to make his footing slip. Right back to being face first on the floor.

The vampire growled again at the humiliating display. Digging his claws into the carpet below, the scruffy beast soon dragged himself off of the floor and straight into the bellhop's face.

His chest rumbled with a deep growl as his brows furrowed viciously towards the man. 

"Now, dat ain't no way tah treat a guest, now issit, Doorman?" His breath was rancid from previous kills as he huffed into the ginger’s face.

The Doorman snickered at Drifter slipping on the sheet, being quick to replace it with a fake attempt at clearing his throat.

Both sounds were interrupted in an instant by being face to face with the vampire. The scents of decaying flesh and rotting teeth made his freckled nose twitch. He shut his eyes momentarily and swallowed hard, working to keep his composure rather than backhand the man stood mere inches away from him. Hot breaths hit his face in small increments. 

"Step back, please. We wouldn't want you being removed from the premises just as quickly as you were checked in, now would we?" The bellhop placed a gloved hand on the centre of the vampire's chest and calmly pushed him away. Afterwards, he checked the fingers and palm of his glove for any dirt that might've transferred from the rags Drifter wore. "As for your question, no. This isn't how our guests are typically treated. However, you are a regular visitor of The Baroness and therefore shall get treated as such with a... unique experience tailored to your lifestyle and needs." His voice oozed charisma and passive-aggression simultaneously. 

The vampire held himself back from snapping his jaws at the gloved hand being placed on his chest; simply grunting a hefty breath towards Doorman with bared teeth. His head turns to watch The Doorman, staring at him like prey stuck in the cage alongside the beast.

Teal eyes looked over the vampire from head to toe before The Doorman turned to the small desk by the room's door. Picking up a small sheet of paper by a black dial-up telephone, he walked back over to Drifter. 

"Now, as a regular guest at The Baroness, I trust you are already keenly aware of the amenities we offer. However, if for any reason this is not the case, here is the number for the front desk, our room service line, and the room service menu. Oh, and please don't forget, Drifter..." Teal pupils burned into crimson ones as the god leaned in. "...The typical rules of our agreement still stand. So do try your best to not be a nuisance, won't you?"

With one more smile and a polite nod, the ginger man began to leave the hotel room.

Before the cosmic being could exit the room, his arm is suddenly tugged back by a harsh grip from giant claws. Drifter yanked the bellboy towards him, tightening his grasp and feeling warm blood pulse underneath it.

Drool began to pool from the bottom of his lip. "Actually, Doorman, I tink I already gotta service request..." Crimson eyes look The Doorman up and down rapidly, "Sumthin' from dat dere menu o' your's." 

His breath hitched as a low chuckle rumbled from deep within his gullet. A tongue darts out from his mouth and licks the drool from his lips.

The god's body stilled as Drifter grabbed his wrist and he let himself be pulled into the vampire with a small but knowing smile. The muscles of his forearm twitched as crimson claws threatened to tear through the burgundy uniform jacket. He turned his head to the right, not enough to make eye contact, but enough to see the hunched man's shadow. 

The cosmic being could feel the vampire's eyes burn into his back but made no effort to break his grasp. 

"Is that so? How can I be of service?" The Doorman's voice was low, teetering on the edge of sensuality. 

The ginger is used to his cat-and-mouse game with the ghoulish hunter and relished in it. He adored his job as a doorman and the opportunities it gave him to observe those he'd tortured in another life, but his interactions with Drifter always lit a spark in his core. They break up the monotonous steps of service work, the god had convinced himself.

The vampire’s breath hitched once more with a shuddery chuckle. The ache of his belly grew louder in his frame—especially with his meal within a crimson grasp. 

"Lemme have sum o' dat ambroisa ya got flowin' undaneath dat fake skin o' yours," The vampire coos with his rough voice, "Ya owe me." 

Drifter grew ever closer to the god. His gloved hand being wrapped in Drifter’s claws; a sharp thumb dragging down the palm of the bellhop.

The ginger bellhop let the request hang in the air for a moment, the only noises amongst the men being the ticking of a small alarm clock and the growling of Drifter's stomach. The Doorman shuddered in disgust at the sound. 

In truth, the cosmic being was weighing up his options. All necessary stations for the evening's guests would be attended to by his fellow staff, so it's not like he needed to be at the door or even the front desk this evening. On the other hand, the hungry ghoul had been quite ill-mannered and could do with being taught a lesson. 

But there's that spark again, flickering dangerously in the pool of Doorman's stomach. The adrenaline of being treated like a piece of meat while both parties knew the eldritch god could and would tear the vampire apart at a second's notice. There was a certain level of sick trust between the two men that had gone unmatched for centuries. 

And the god did have to agree with Drifter, for once; he was a good dog on the battlefield today. Mostly, at least.

"I am here to serve, so it would be my pleasure to fulfill your request. But," He turned his head further to lock eyes with the vampire. "I would like to voice one reservation I have, just the tiniest compromise. You can feed from my wrist, not my neck. And my uniform remains in pristine condition. Understand?"

Another rumble from deep within the 'man' standing before the eldritch being. His face was contorted in another angry snarl at the bone in front of him being yanked away. Drifter’s hand grips tightly against The Doorman's—his claw teetering on tearing the now dirtied glove.

Drifter leaned ever closer to The Doorman. With this proximity, the vampire could easily sink his teeth into that freckled nose and rip it clean off. But, he restrained. Instead, choosing to huff through gritted teeth hard enough to send spittles of saliva towards the man.

With some slight hesitancy, the brute let go of Doorman's hand, making sure to shove it as he did. Drifter dared not to budge an inch from his spot planted in front of the eldritch bellhop; staring down with bright red eyes expectantly.

"Go on. Roll ya sleeve up den." He knew better than to not try himself. His claws would simply rip skin and fabric if he tried.

Ignoring the shove, Doorman spun on his heel to face the vampire. Bringing his left wrist to his front, he inspected his glove. He tuts at the sight of dried blood and dirt. 

"I suppose I shall let you off, seems as this must have happened before we agreed on the compromise." He warned as his eyes glowed through his top lashes. 

That's all he said before turning away from Drifter again, to face the hotel room's wardrobe. A risky move, but that made the entire affair more appealing to him. Looking down at the keyhole crest on his jacket, he undid the fastener within it. Next came the buttons that lead to the bottom hem of his uniform. The god shrugged and pulled it off his shoulders at a leisurely pace, making sure to gaze over his shoulder at the vampire as he did. As to be expected, the hunter was drooling and twitching like he was at a buffet. Thin, freckled lips twitched downwards for a second before he turned his head away. 

Once his jacket was fully off, he walked over to the wardrobe and pulled a silk padded clothes hanger from its rack. He placed the jacket carefully on the hanger, effortlessly slotting his now removed gloves into its inside pocket. Returning the hanger to its rightful place, he then strode into the bathroom to the right of the wardrobe and returned with a full body towel and sat on the hotel room’s bed.

Crossing one somewhat slender leg over the other, The Doorman folded the towel once and placed it on his lap before placing his hat next to him where he sat. After an agonising wait, he finally started to roll up his sleeve. He pulled the arm of his stark white undershirt to his bicep - he knew Drifter was a messy eater and that there's nothing he can do to change it. 

The ginger looked up again, this time raising an eyebrow expectantly as he offered his wrist. 

"Well? Dinner is served. Eat up."

The vampire had stood close-by, sharp fingers twitching with starved anticipation. His jaw hung open slightly as he panted with drool dripping from his mouth. Admittedly, this was a pathetic display of weakness from the vampire. Drooling over a goddamned wrist of all things. But, he couldn't help it. His stomach ached with hunger and the god's blood proved to be quite the five star meal. It was rich and thick with taste.

Though, as soon as the words leave The Doorman's mouth, large, blood stained hands are already grabbing the main course. Drifter hunches over the bellhop, his knee barely missing the ginger's crotch as he straddles the man's leg.

A long, sandpapery tongue traces thick lines of bloody saliva near the man's wrist. He was savoring the flavor. His tongue pressed down onto Doorman's veins, feeling the pulse and flow of eldritch blood beneath his oddly frigid tongue.

Panting against freckled skin, Drifter grazed his teeth against the flesh below. 

Soon, without much hesitation, the starved vampire bit down onto tanned skin—straight into a vein as blood began to pour out from the puncture. His tongue quickly lapped at the wound, barely being able to keep up.

Gross, wet sounds filled the air as the greedy vampire began to suck directly from the ginger's wrist like a dog dying of dehydration.

The god's shoulders tensed when Drifter sat on him, steadying himself by placing his free hand on the duvet. A grimace immediately contorted his face at the desperate display, but he wasn't given much time to think about the straddle. Moments after, the rest of his body was still with the sensation of his skin popping under the vampire's fangs. The Doorman instinctively winced at the pain, feeling his heart race as blood flowed effortlessly from his wrist into a bearded mouth. 

As his fingers holding him up curled into the bedsheet, the ginger bellhop settled into the feeling. His wince became a curious stare, watching the towel he prepared soak up some of the purply-red fluid his body produced. The rest of his blood was lapped up greedily, the sensation pulling intense slurps and groans from the man that drinks from his freckled skin. 

"My my, you really are hungry this evening..." The Doorman observed, eyes trained on the way Drifter's tongue and lips spread the blood and smeared it across the small of his arm.

With a free hand, Drifter shoved his bloody mitt into the face of The Doorman with a quiet growl into his arm.

"Shut it fo' I rip ya throat out instead,' The vampire snarled.

His claws wrapped easily around Doorman's head, squeezing it slightly. Drifter pulled himself ever closer to Doorman. His right knee rested beside the ginger while he fully committed to sitting on the smaller man's leg. 

He was absolutely rubbing all sorts of grime onto the poor bellhop's pants, but he figured it would be fine. The brute wasn't rubbing blood or tearing at seams. Dirt can be easily washed.

Another loud slurp punctured the air as the vampire practically sucked all the blood out of The Doorman's arm. It was desperate and messy, but Drifter couldn't care at this point; he was too wrapped up in filling his belly to acknowledge how eager he was being.

The Doorman chuckled, a quiet rumble taunting the paw pressed against his mouth. His topaz eyes shone with glee at the humiliating display the vampire on top of him had rendered himself to, allowing it to burn into his cosmic memory. 

They both knew he could and should tear the mangy mutt to pieces, especially now that his work slacks were being stained with each lap on his freckled arm. But the ginger god didn’t want to. Not yet, anyway - he was enjoying this vulgar scene too much.

Minutes of bleeding and slurping passed before the god looked down at his slacks again; his eyes were drawn to where both men’s bodies met. Sure, there wasn’t much regarding his uniform to kick up a fuss about—he had become quite skilled at washing stains out during his time at The Baroness—but something else caught his attention. Resting carelessly on his lap was Drifter’s clothed crotch, where the cosmic being could see a tent starting to form.

His smile against the vampire’s palm became a grin as a freckled hand found purchase on Drifter’s soft hip, rubbing it up and down with the pad of his thumb as he flexed his thigh.

“Drifter, dear, you seem to be enjoying this a bit more than usual. You should’ve told me how pent up you were. Poor thing,” He cooed telepathically, keenly aware of how the bloodied hand around his jaw would muffle his words.

A hitch in his slurping caused him to cough slightly–sending splatters of blood across the sheets. The grip on the eldritch bellhop tightened significantly; his claws edged on tearing soft skin. 

The vampire on top of him rumbled from in a hairy chest, growling at the man he was straddling.

"Bullshit," Drifter spat. Though the god was right, he'd rather shove a wooden stake through his chest than admit when he's wrong. And the bellhop flexing his thigh, causing his growing erection to press closer against his leg, surely didn't help.

Drifter simply clamped his hand down as much as he could onto Doorman, before resuming his meal. Though, this time around, his slurping was messier and unfocused. His head was beginning to feel lighter from the blood-flow in his brain travelling... elsewhere.

Auburn eyebrows raised teasingly at the one word response. Drifter knew that he could feel it, and now sensed it as his voice swam through the vampire's mind. But alas, he was too used to acting like a dumb dog to realise The Doorman could read him like a colouring book. 

Still gleeful, now to a sadistic extent, the god squinted his cyan eyes. He watched as the desperate man sat on him wrestled with the heat in his core to keep his composure. Doorman relished in this; an apex predator of the streets trying with everything he can muster to not rut his hips as he feeds like the brainless mutt he was. Quite adorable, he thought to himself. 

"It seems as if I've misinterpreted your body's involuntary behaviour. Please, accept my deepest apology," His mid-Atlantic voice echoed in the Cajun's mind once again, accompanied by the resting of his thigh. 

Despite Drifter's ironclad grip, the ginger's tilt of his head was effortless. He allowed the crimson claw on the bloodstained thumb to pierce his cheek, looking at the desperate vampire through coppery eyelashes as a streak of blood started to trickle down his face. A wordless taunt too hard to resist. 

"If you truly are happy with occupying yourself, I am more than happy to oblige. If not, be sure to let me know."

Drifter’s 'involuntary' behavior only continued as the vampire's hips pathetically pressed back down onto Doorman's when he rested his thigh.

A quiet, almost whimpery groan passed through the brute's teeth as he bit down onto the bellhop's arm. This time, instead of looking for blood, the bite was to try and muffle his sounds.

Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. The monster from the south. The vampire who spent centuries bathing in blood. The beast who roamed the states to fuel his lust for violence—was now pathetically grinding against a so-called 'god' like a dog in heat. Absolutely embarrassing.

Doorman had him wrapped around a keyring, and he knew the god was relishing in the fact, but Drifter couldn't help himself. Despite centuries of being anything but human, his mortal needs still managed to drag him back to being a pathetic excuse for a vampire.

The Doorman couldn’t help but erupt into laughter, both physically and telepathically, at the vampire's chase for friction. His head instinctively pulled away as his sadistic cackle flooded the room, somehow freeing himself from Drifter's grip on his skull. Dark 'ambrosia' flowed from his cheekbone without the bloodstained hand to keep it put. The cosmic voice left the mind of the desperate man with an agonisingly sensual pull. 

"Drifter, Drifter, Drifter. You are such a sight to behold when you remember yourself,” He spoke aloud again, "Look at you. You claimed to come here for blood, but you might as well be pumping into your first with how you've been acting. So needy and ill-mannered. Though, it's not at all surprising - when all is said and done, you're still just a mortal with the mind of a desperate mutt. You're so pitiful. Do you have no shame?" 

The god's humanoid teeth glinted as he teased, his hand leaving the plump and clothed flesh he was holding. That same hand came up to the vampire's face, the gesture a mock of Drifter's tough exterior as freckled fingers caressed his facial hair. The ginger dipped his head lower, refusing to break eye contact as his eyebrows furrowed with fake concern. 

"Is doggy too horny to think straight? Does doggy need some help chasing his release? Would you like that, doggy?" 

The grin on The Doorman's face grew eerily wider. 

"Then beg."

The sad excuse for a vampire desperately tried to look anywhere else as the cosmic bellhop antagonized him. Drifter couldn't tell if what he was doing against The Doorman’s thigh was worse, or the fact that the ginger's words only made him harder.

The vampire's teeth gripped violently onto Doorman's arm, all in an attempt to quell the sounds wanting to burst from his throat. The straining in his pants only made him more desperate.

He couldn't bring himself to beg. It was such a humiliating act that would only cement it into Doorman's mind as to how pathetic he truly was. But the more his erection strained against his ragged pants, the more he was considering it.

All Drifter could do was growl and snarl into Doorman's arm, some of them sounding like pitiful whimpers of a dog.

"Aww, you can't even talk-" His cooing was cut off by another laugh, even as the vampire's teeth started to make contact with bone. "Are you really so embarrassed that you're going to tear my wrist off? Though I do agree that this should be nightmarishly humiliating for you, mutt, I thought your parents would've taught you to not bite the hand that feeds you."

The rule he set regarding his uniform was long gone, crimson liquid soaking into the midriff of his shirt and dripping from the now mostly coated towel. The Doorman took a mental note of the stains anyway, though, as Drifter had proved himself more than worthy of a punishment. While the vampire was distracted by his own violent shame, the god took a second to undo the top buttons of his once spotless undershirt. 

"Look at me." Bored of this waiting game, a freckled hand returned to the bearded jaw, this time squeezing it to force Drifter to release his wrist. Once the bigger man's mouth was agape, Doorman pushed his head up so they were looking at each other. The ginger's smile was callous as he watched ruby pupils shake.

"I thought I told you to beg, mutt. Do you want me to humour you or not?"

The only thing keeping him silent was suddenly ripped away as a fierce hand gripped his chin. Drifter couldn't help but shamefully moan as a strand of thick, bloody spit clung to his lip from the god's arm.

The pitiful vampire panted out. His hot, metallic breath fanned into The Doorman's face as a pathetic look of desperation plastered the vampire's face. He truly was at the edge of his rope, needing release as soon as possible. If he waited any longer it felt like his body would collapse on itself.

He had already embarrassed himself enough with his shameful display—by this point he had given in to the god's leash as it tugged against his frame.

"Please," Drifter begged through the hitches of his shaking breath. 

He was never going to be able to live this down. This was going to haunt him for centuries to come.

That one word plea was music to the god's ears. Big tough Drifter, the man who had spent centuries being feared by his fellow mortals while he ripped them to shreds, was straddling his thigh and waiting on his every call. It's happened before and will happen again, the ginger was sure of it. But that didn't stop these moments from being ones that will stay with him in every lifetime he experiences. His dick twitched in his slacks at the thought. 

With that being said, it still was not enough for the sadistic immortal. 

The pad of his thumb swiped at the vampire's swollen lip as a way to draw out the anticipation stiffening the air between the men. He felt Drifter's breath on his digit, hot and heavy with want. Once he was satisfied with his absentminded inspection, he pulled both of his hands away.

The bite wounds on his wrist, that would be life threatening for any mortal, had already started to heal. A freckled hand rubbed against them slightly to speed up the process before making a gesture to the side of his head. A small portal door appeared in response. All of The Doorman's portals have the same glow, but this time the door was spitting objects out, rather than inviting its master in. A small metal lighter and matching metal tin fell into the ginger's hand, the god not even having to look at his portal to catch the items he summoned. 

The metal box was long and thin but luxurious nonetheless. It sported the same shade of gold as Doorman's keys and was engraved with an elegant pattern. The cosmic being pressed a small button to open it, revealing its contents: two neatly packed rows of untouched cigarettes. He pulled one of the thin cylinders out of the box before closing it again and setting into the side. The cigarette rested between his fingers as he brought it to his lips, letting it sit there patiently while he grabbed the lighter. With a flick of his wrist a small blue flame was standing between the two men's faces. The Doorman took a long and steady breath in as the fire ignited against the stick. He waited a moment before blowing tobacco scented smoke into the vampire's face. 

Oh yes! The vampire. Though he typically made himself hard to forget, he sat silently on the god. 

"Hm, what was that? I couldn't quite hear you,” The cosmic being finally replied.

The humiliated vampire could only sit and watch the eldritch being with needy pants of breath. He could barely focus with how pent up he was. All the beast could do was limply grip onto Doorman's thigh while the other hand clutched the stained sheets below.

Though, his focus was soon brought back to attention when Doorman flicked something bright in front of his crimson eyes—a lighter. The tiny heat of the flame made his eyes squeeze shut as he flinched back slightly. Unfortunately as he opened his eyes, the smoke from the lit cigarette blew straight into them. Drifter coughed slightly at the smell penetrating his senses and shook his head. He would rub his irritated eyes, but kept his hands on the god, fearing if he let go then Doorman would never see to his end.

Drifter furrowed his brow in annoyance, ready to bare his fangs towards The Doorman once more, but was cut short of the god's thigh shifting ever so slightly beneath him; he couldn't help but sharply inhale at the tiniest of movement.

In pure defeat, the vampire limply rested his body against Doorman. His head lay against the ginger's shoulder as drool began to soak the area. Another shaky breath weasels its way out of the sorry excuse for a killer.

"Please..." Drifter whined out, almost moaning into the god's ear. 

Pathetic.

"Please what? Use your words, dog." The Doorman's voice was smooth but stern. 

He took another drag from his cigarette, the vampire's reaction to the lighter swimming in his mind. The way the vampire flinched and frowned at the sight caused more blood to travel to his length.

Drool dripped onto Doorman's clothed shoulder, dragging his mind back to reality. The weight of Drifter's body was growing bothersome now, as was the strain of his crotch in his trousers. In an attempt to distract himself from this, he reignited his cigarette and watched the vampire's trembling, desperate form out of the corner of his eye.

The flick of the lighter was enough to produce another flinch from the mess of a 'man' slumped and drooling against the eldritch bellhop. At this point there was no going back for Drifter. This pathetic display was already burned into both of their minds. He might as well commit to it and get it over with. 

"Please—" A sharp gasp from the vampire, "Please jus– lemme ha-haah-" His words quickly devolved into incoherent babbling behind his thick Cajun accent. The bottom of his core felt like it was on fire by this point from the lack of friction.

"Let you what?" A clothed thigh shifted again. "I can't help you if you do not talk to me, Drifter. Would you rather I drag your request out of you?" The Doorman taunted. 

He knew what the vampire wanted, but he also knew how gratifying it would be to hear that Cajun accent whine a coherent sentence for him. Just once is all he needed and the mortal could get exactly what he wanted. As long as he's willing to show his thanks for such a grand act of mercy that is, the god thought to himself.

Another sharp wine at the slight amount of touch to his erection.

"I-I needtah—haah–c-cum— please— n-need movement–" Drifter whimpered out with sharp huffs through his teeth.

His cock throbbed and ached from the lack of everything happening. The Doorman’s pant leg was already sullied from the growing wet spot at the peak of Drifter’s pants. He was beyond composure by this point as his body twitched and shook.

There it was. The sound washed over the god like sweet bliss. 

"Good job, mutt. That wasn't so hard now was it?" His praise was patronising as his free hand returned to Drifter's hip. 

With little warning, his fingers dug into plump flesh and dragged the vampire's erection against his thigh, setting a steady pace as the stain of precum spread across his leg. Teal eyes gazed down at the movement as he inhaled tobacco smoke once again. 

"You're lucky this is happening at all, if I must be honest. With how bratty you've been, I should've left you outside to fight over scraps with all the other mutts. Regardless, it seems that I pity you." He mustered some strength to bounce his crossed legs, his grip on the vampire tightening to keep him steady.

The rope dangling a bone above him had finally been snipped. Without much hesitation, the vampire began to desperately grind his raging erection against The Doorman's thigh, moaning, whining, and panting into the ginger’s body. The bouncing of Doorman's leg only came with Drifter biting down onto a freckled shoulder as he slobbered everywhere.

Eventually, his arms moved to embrace the cosmic being in some sort of hug—though it was less of a hug and more so Drifter clinging onto Doorman to steady himself as his hips bucked desperately. The vampire’s claws tugged at the bellhop's back, scratching deeply against it while in Drifter’s tight embrace.

The ginger bellhop was caged in by the larger man’s form, hissing at the sensation of claws tearing his shirt and raking down his skin. He could feel blood rising to the surface and prickling amongst the freckles that decorate his back. Although he was displeased at his undershirt being torn, he indulged in the pain. It was electrifying.

The hand on the vampire’s hip moved to the small of his back, allowing him to rut freely as he chased his release. Gruff moans and whimpers sent shivers down The Doorman’s spine, all the way to his own erection. 

“That’s it, take what you need,” The eldritch being hummed against a pale and pointed ear. He could tell Drifter was already close.

By this point, his breathy moans and whimpers had been replaced by animalistic growling and snarls next to Doorman's ear. Bloody slobber pooled down the eldritch being's front as Drifter continued to bite down on his shoulder. His movement was starting to become sloppy, nearing his release as he desperately chased his climax.

After a few more quick thrusts against Doorman's slicked thigh, Drifter’s entire body tensed as he jerked his hips deeply against the god's leg. His claws dug intensely into Doorman's back while sharp fangs stabbed through skin, edging on ripping out a chunk of flesh from the force. His cock ached through his climax, spilling through the tight tent in his trousers and onto Doorman's sullied leg. It felt like it took ages for Drifter to calm down from his finish as his body shook with ecstasy, still cumming onto Doorman's thigh.

Hot, ragged breaths forced their way through gritted teeth, hitting the nape of the bellhop below him. Drifter’s chest throbbed and his mind was hazy as recovered from his orgasm. 

Eventually his hips began to still, with his grip on Doorman loosening slightly. Pathetic huffs and whines breathily exited the vampire’s bloodied mouth after unlatching his fangs from the god's shoulder.

The Doorman’s frame tensed at the same time as Drifter bit down on him. He became lightheaded for a moment, swallowing hard as the sting of teeth tearing flesh bloomed across the injury. 

The freckled hand on the vampire’s back pulled him into his clothed chest while his orgasm wrecked him. The sensation of cum hitting his slacks and soaking into them made him shudder, though, lips twisting into the tiniest grimace as blood, cum, and drool mixed together on his body. Regardless, the bellhop ran his hand across the mortal’s coccyx in a soothing, almost petting motion.

Once Drifter had come down from his high, Doorman managed to wriggle his hands free and place them on the vampire’s plump hips. The post-rut moment the men shared was tender. 

Too tender for the sadistic god.

Remembering himself, he combed his freckled fingers through his coppery locks. His first cigarette had been smoked and discarded since Drifter’s climax, so the god lit up another. He held it between his index and ring finger as his second hand pushed down into the mattress next to him.

“Well, now that you’ve had your fill, per se, it’s only fair that you help me clean up,” The Doorman broke the silence. He stopped himself from helping the vampire onto the bed while he discarded their soiled clothes when a sick idea crossed his mind. His original plan was replaced with blowing cigarette smoke onto the grey earlobe to his side and patting the side of his thigh; one of the only untouched areas on his upper leg. 

“Look, you’ve made such a mess with your humping!” His tone was more of a patronizing comment than a shout, “…Lick it clean like the dog you are.”

Exhausted panting filled the room as the vampire laid limply against the eldritch being. His head was absolutely swirling from his much needed release. His body jerked and twitched occasionally, still shaking from all the grinding.

"Wha... whassat...?" Drifter panted out at Doorman's demand. It was a mixture of his head throbbing from bloodflow and the fact he wasn't quite sure that Doorman was serious about the act.

The Doorman’s lips curled into a smile as he cooed at the boneless man on top of him. The hand that leant on the bed found its way to Drifter’s scalp, petting the dark hair just below his ragged hat.

“Lick it clean like the dog you are,” The god repeated himself. His tone was comparable to that of a teacher talking to a young child. “You don’t expect me to resume my duties with a filthy uniform, do you?” While teasing the vampire, the bellhop’s fingers traced the back of the larger man’s neck.

The vampire’s ear twitched slightly at Doorman’s words.

"I am... not doin' dat..." He said through breaths.

Drifter's brows furrowed at the thought, but with his given state he looked a bit drunk... on godly blood and a rough orgasm.

“Oh? You’re not? That’s a shame, I thought you had wasted all your bark on your bites.” The ginger’s bottom lip jutted outwards in a fake pout before he looked to the side and took a drag from his second cigarette.

Suddenly, the foot attached to his sullied leg was placed on the floor, a move with the intention of shocking Drifter into losing his balance. Just as predicted, the vampire hit the carpet with a thud, teal eyes staring down at him.

“Well, I suppose I could add the cleaning costs to the bill for your stay instead. But where would the fun be in that for me?” The Doorman thought out loud, pout turning into a smirk, “And, please forgive how plainly I speak, but I’m not too sure you have the funds to cover any extra fees, Mister Drifter. Though if that is what you wish, I assure you we can come to… some sort of an arrangement.”

Before Drifter could make an attempt at some sort of snarky remark, he found himself dropped to the floor with a resounding thud against the carpet.

The vampire hissed slightly at the sudden pain to his knees, rubbing his thighs as he scowled towards The Doorman. His legs had already ached from their rutting before, and this surely wasn't helping.

Drifter scrunched his face slightly in annoyance at the situation in front of him.

"Like what."

"Well, saying thank you wouldn't go amiss. Though I'm aware that may be an impossible task for you to fulfil, given your general nature." 

In the blink of an eye, two portal doors opened behind the vampire with spectral hands reaching out from the carpet. The hands took a bloodstained paw each and pinned them behind the kneeling man's back. This move was accompanied by The Doorman using one of his hands to grab a fistful of raven hair. Drifter's hat fell to the floor as the god yanked him forward, face first into his crotch. A rosy hue wafted over the ginger's features as he looked down at the larger man, his cock pulsing instinctively at the contact. 

"So this will suffice."

The sudden grip and restraint of his crimson wrists had Drifter in a shock. 

"What the—" Drifter began, but before he could even properly react, his body was thrusted forward and pressed straight into the god's clothed groin.

He could feel the heat radiating through the fabric as the ginger's cock throbbed beneath it. Drifter had to fight the hand gripping his tangled hair to put his head to the side to breathe. A deep rumbling growl resonated through the vampire’s hairy chest as he strained his neck to glare at the god.

"I oughta rip yo' dick off wit' my teeth," Drifter snarled.

Though, he couldn't help but feel growing arousal at the whole ordeal.

"I invite you to try, mutt. I'm open to new experiences,” The Doorman teases, though his eyes gave off the sense of a threat.

Freckled fingers continued the taunt by taking a firmer grasp on Drifter's hair, the god's cigarette hanging out of his mouth as his other hand reached down. He made swift work of unfastening the clasps on his work trousers before snaking his hand past the waistline, unfastening his shirt garter.

"Did you really think you would walk into my domain and use me in such a pathetic way without letting me use you in return? You are much dumber than I thought." The bellhop's dick twitched impatiently as he scoffed.

The vampire’s fangs ached from their restraint. He knew if he decided to attempt anything stupid, the god restraining him would surely make quick work of his funeral. Struggling against the hands holding him for a second, he surmised he definitely wasn't getting out of those alive. Drifter simply growled into The Doorman's crotch, succumbing to the humiliation before straining his neck up to a bit more of a comfortable position. He figured if he just got this over with, he could leave and never have to see this stupid god ever again.

Doorman could feel the growl against his clothed shaft, the vibration causing a small flutter of his eyelids and a shift of his hips. Luckily for the god, he had far more self control as well as composure than any mortal ever could.

Though he would never admit it to Drifter, he genuinely waited with baited breath to see if the vampire had the nerve to follow up on his remark. His fangs had already made contact with eldritch bone, who's to say it won't happen again? Teal eyes looked down at the restrained man with a curious glint as he stretched his neck.

Drifter bared his fangs as if he were going to bite directly down onto The Doorman's groin—but simply took the zipper on the dress pants between his teeth before pulling it down. Drifter wished he could use his hands for this... After the zipper was all the way down, Drifter snagged his teeth onto the edge of the bellhop's boxers and pulled them down—making sure his fangs punctured straight through the fabric of course. Couldn't make this easy for Doorman.

The air was pierced by the sound of the zipper being pulled. Another small pulse of the god's cock is earned, but not acknowledged by either man. What does earn acknowledgement, however, is the tear of fabric that followed. 

"Tut tut tut... And just as you were starting to behave,” The Doorman commented on the freshly made hole in his briefs while exhaling a cloud of smoke.

Another growl from the beast restrained below him. Bright crimson eyes narrowed into glowing blue, but the vampire’s gaze soon turned to the...situation in front of him. To his surprise, The Doorman was decently sized, at least from the last time he remembers... 

Muttering something under his breath, the brute soon opened his maw and placed his lips on the head of the god's cock. His tongue, however, was doing most of the work as it trailed the underside of the shaft, curling around it slightly with thick, bloody saliva. He was going to take his time, that's for sure.

Amusement and arousal merged on the eldritch being's features as he watched Drifter's face shift at the sight of his erection. The peeling of fabric layers caused it to twitch again, almost beckoning the vampire to take it in his mouth. 

And when he did, it was certainly worth the cat-and-mouse game that started the evening. Once feral lips wrapping around The Doorman's tip was a welcome feeling; a reward for being treated like the arm of a couch, even. Blood started travelling to his cheeks when the vampire put his tongue to work, the firm grasp of hair turning into a slight push-and-pull at the motion.

An annoyed grunt vibrated down the bellhop's shaft—Drifter’s bright eyes turning to glare at The Doorman as he began to force the slight bobbing of his head.

With a huff, the vampire brought his mouth further down onto the eldritch being's cock. His tongue continued to slide around the sides to coat it with saliva to make the process a bit easier for his throat.

His fangs grazed ever so lightly against the god's skin, teasing Doorman with the possibility of biting.

The Doorman's length pulsed and throbbed in Drifter's throat; tell tale signs that the god is enjoying this. He allowed a soft exhale to leave him at the ministrations as freckled fingers continued to guide the vampire sucking him off. However, that very same vampire clearly underestimated his turn-ons when he used his fangs. Clearly thinks he can cause the god he knelt before to feel fear. The ginger offered a lazy smile and hitched breath in response to the flicker of danger in the crimson eyes before him. It was adorable. 

"Good," He praised with a sigh, hips starting to move on their own to meet the bearded man's bobs.

A pale ear flicks at the quiet breaths coming from the being resting his thighs around his scruffy head. Drifter’s movements stayed the same for a bit as he got used to the rhythm going between them. Every so often, Drifter made sure to graze his sharp fangs against soft skin, keeping an ear out for any noise that may come from The Doorman.

Soft moans were starting to escape the god, spilling like honey from his lips as he smoked. The combination of the vampire's winding tongue and sharp teeth was intoxicating. The bellhop lets himself relish every second of it. 

He could feel the god's cock throb on his sandpaper tongue, dripping pre into his mouth and mixing into his saliva. Admittedly, the taste was addicting. Just another aspect he craved to consume from the god.

Eventually, Drifter pulled back from Doorman's shaft as much as he could to take a much needed breath. His teeth rested against the first inch or so; Drifter’s hot breath fanning against Doorman's cock.

When Drifter takes a break the god inhaled through slightly gritted teeth. He wasn't close, just displeased by lack of movement, though the fanning of breath was somewhat appreciated. 

"Hm, I thought such a desperate dog would have more stamina than this. You certainly did earlier when you were pleasuring yourself, at least⁓" His voice was low and heavy as he commented on the bearded man's 'break'. He sat up slightly as he came to the end of his cigarette, lips twitching into a slight frown as he looked down at his cigarette tin. 

"I need an ash tray," The god pondered out loud, taking his time to sit up more. Almost as if he was dropping a hint. 

His frown was replaced with a cruel smirk as his eyes trained onto the side of Drifter's neck.

The vampire sucked in one last breath through his teeth before wrapping his lips back around the ginger’s shaft. The sounds coming from The Doorman were a treat for his ragged ears, sending shivers down his body and pooling into his core. It was gratifying to hear even the slightest thing, and the thought of trying to force more out of the bellhop had his dick throbbing once more. It ached from the lack of touch, and there wasn't much he could do about it besides let his pre drip onto the carpet. Doorman definitely isn't going to be pleased about that.

The vampire's mouth was wrapped more than halfway down The Doorman's throbbing member. He sucked in breaths through a scrunched up nose as he made a hefty attempt to relax his throat.

The Doorman moaned again as the vampire took his length back into his throat. He watched as Drifter started sinking further, eyelids fluttering again as the larger man's tongue curled around him. Pre-cum leaked freely from the bellhop's dick as he took a final drag of his cigarette.

With a bit of patience, Drifter was able to fully take Doorman's cock all the way down; his nose being buried in a ginger bush. The brute's tongue still continued to coil and press against his shaft.

In his pleasured state, the god found enough strength to grin before leaning forward. His freckled fingers moved to the back of Drifter's head, keeping his erection in the man's throat as he leaned forward. Just as a pale grey nose reached his bush, Doorman pressed his cigarette butt into the side of the vampire's neck. The ginger couldn’t help but moan as Drifter's throat spasmed around him in response. 

"Shh, be good and take it⁓" He ordered as his hips buck forward once instinctively. 

It took everything within him to not cum on the spot; the sensations of the blowjob and the view he has of Drifter melding together.

A strangled moan gurgles from the back of Drifter’s throat as the searing sensation from the cigarette burns pale skin. His hips jerk from the pain shocking through his neck, as more muffled moans choke in his stuffed throat.

He couldn't help but feel his eyes flutter at the sensations driving through his core and straight to his aching dick straining against his pants again. Drifter could feel the eldritch being's pre being milked out of his throbbing length, traveling straight down his spasming gullet.

"Haah... Good boy..." The god mewled at the spasms around his cock.

Slowly yet surely, the bellhop’s composure was starting to slip. The throat of the kneeling man fit his cock like a glove, the wet warmth inviting The Doorman further in. However, the god’s current position made it harder to indulge in the sensation.

His second hand found purchase within Drifter's locks as he stood, forcing the vampire to lean back into his spectral restraints. With feet planted firmly on the hotel carpet, he started to thrust. The pace was steady but aggressive and The Doorman moaned every time his tip hit the back of the warm throat he was fucking. A mix of moans, degradation and praise spilled from him.

Any sense of control Drifter might've had was surely thrown right out the window.

His throat burned from the rapid thrusting slamming into the back of his gullet; each thrust with a responding choked moan and gurgle of spit building up within the vampire’s mouth. Drool cascaded down Drifter’s front from the commotion and soaked directly into his blood stained shirt. He could feel his fangs nicking against the god's cock, creating small punctures for blood to seep their way through—and the blood coming from it was positively rich.

He could feel his own cock throb and leak from the pain, pleasure, and just about everything happening to his face—especially the moaning bursting through The Doorman's lips. The pathetic vampire was on the verge of cumming again, and it surely wouldn't be long before he made a mess of the carpet he found himself kneeling on.

Rhythmic slaps of the ginger's balls hitting the vampire's chin filled the hotel room. Doorman's thrusts became messier as he got closer to his climax. Scrapes on his shaft from Drifter's fangs only made it harder for the god to hold onto what was left of his composure. The crude sounds of moaning and gargling didn't help, either. 

The Doorman hissed through gritted teeth as he looked down at the vampire's near-blissful state. More pre-cum leaked from him as he watched ragged hips twitch on their own. 

"Hah, you're really enjoying this after all your backchat and reluctance, aren't you? Big bad Drifter, feared in the streets of New Amsterdam but knelt beneath me being used without as much as a single thought in that disgusting head of yours. Just happy to feed and be fucked." Thrusts became more aggressive, punctuating the god's words. "In reality, you're just a pathetic and horny dog. My pathetic and horny dog." 

After a final minute of rapid thrusting, his own words drove The Doorman over the edge with a broken moan and a stuttering of his hips. Freckled cheeks burned and teal eyes glowed with cruel pleasure, derived from using and speaking to Drifter like an object. Warm, thick spurts erupted from his cock, painting the vampire's throat greedily. 

"Swallow."

Even then, the pathetic excuse for a vampire had no choice but to swallow the rich fluids. Doorman's cock was buried as far as it could go into his throat as it spasmed and choked rapidly around the god's length through his climax. His mouth was filled to the brim with his seed, pooling rapidly at the edges of his lips and down his chin—he swore he felt it bubble out of his nose.

Drifter’s own climax wasn't much better. His hips jerked and legs shook with each spurt of his own cum through his pants and onto the carpet. His head felt like it was going to explode with each aching throb of Doorman's cock stuffed in his gullet. Gargled moans and whimpers were caught in the back of Drifter’s throat, buried right under The Doorman's thick length.

It felt like the god spilled within him for ages. The taste of his seed was almost intoxicating to the vampire, and he was more than happy to oblige being the bucket for the eldritch being's sick desires. He could feel Doorman's warm fluids filling his belly to the brim, mixing with eldritch blood in his stomach.

"Unf... Unf... Hah⁓" The Doorman rode the wave of his orgasm, his own head swimming with the white-hot rush coursing through his veins. He held onto Drifter's skull like it was the only thing keeping him steady as they came together. 

Certain that the vampire had lapped up his entire load, the cosmic being reluctantly pulled himself out of the kneeling man's mouth, using a hand to guide his recovering length. It left the warm gullet at an agonising pace, finally succumbing to gravity with a string of saliva and seed attached to the tip. Afterwards, he banished the portal doors that held the crimson wrists. 

Looking down at Drifter in his current state nearly made him hard again. But as his eyes trailed down, they caught the puddle of white liquid soaking into the hotel's carpet. The god frowned at the thought of having to replace it once the vampire had left, though that didn't mean he couldn't make use of the mess first.

Drifter’s throat ached as The Doorman pulled out at an agonizingly slow pace. Once he does, a choked gasp for air pierces the room as the vampire coughs and sputters for breath. His body was absolutely spent from the mess they made; Drifter leaning forward with trembling hands and pathetically resting his body against the god's soiled leg, not caring for the mess his head laid under.

Doorman could only hear shaky and sharp breaths being sucked in through the vampire’s sore mouth. His face was a mess of saliva, blood, and godly fluids soaking into his flushed skin and scraggly beard.

Doorman loosened his grip on the vampire's hair as he sputtered and leaned. Raven locks pressed the forgotten stain on his slacks into his skin, causing the god to roll his eyes. Slowly and somewhat gently he tugged on Drifter's scalp, crouching down to his eye level as he pulled the spent man's torso backwards. 

Now face to face, he could see how exhausted the vampire truly is. The Doorman cooed at the worn out expression painted on Drifter's face. But this wasn't over, yet - there was still a mess to attend to. 

"Poor thing, you just couldn't help but make another mess." Freckled fingers briefly pet the top of the vampire's head. "Forgive me, mutt, but it seems that the only way you'll learn to behave is by being punished." His sympathetic tone was slightly genuine. 

His hand curled back into a fistful of hair as he pushed Drifter down, face first into his own cum as it seeped into the carpet. 

"Clean up after yourself. Come on, you can do it."

The only thing Drifter could do was let out a pathetic breathy whine at the tugging and shoving even as he was being forced into his own mess. He strained slightly at the hand gripping his hair, only moving his head to the side to be able to pant heavily with an open mouth.

Not even his claws would try to scrape at the hand viscously pulling him around; Drifter’s arms simply laying there against the carpet and twitching slightly.

Doorman truly had pushed him to his limit. The concoction of eldritch blood and seed mixing in his stomach had him almost drunk. His eyelids fluttered between hitched breaths and small whines.

Auburn eyebrows knit together with a hint of concern as Drifter laid on the carpet. He was still breathing, his body was moving here and there, but The Doorman had never seen the vampire in such a state as this.

With a gentle hum of thought to himself, he used his eldritch strength to scoop up the struggling body before him. 

"Allow me to help," He spoke softly, carrying his hotel guest towards the shower.

The vampire’s eyes could barely focus as his weight was suddenly collected and picked up by the smaller man. The only thing he could do was incoherently mutter from a sore throat.

A feeble attempt to swat away at The Doorman as he was carried was made, but it was hardly anything due to the current state the brute found himself in.

The god chuffed at the attempted swat, leaning down to plant a small kiss on his head.

“You did very well,” He whispered into the small expanse of skin as he walked.