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Owen can hear them down in the crypt.
“Are you sure this is okay?” Pyro's weak, snivelling voice asks, high with anxiety like it always is when he’s around Scott. It echoes up the stone chamber to his hiding place in the shadowed rafters, far above the floor where they must be.
“It's fine,” Scott's smarmy voice replies, condescension oozing from him, “this is what fledgelings do for their sire.”
“I didn't… know that,” is all Pyro has to say in return.
“Well, it wouldn't have made much a difference, would it have? Not like we gave you a choice or anything,”
“You're right…”
The thing is, Owen doesn't know if Scott's bullshitting or not. This very well could be an archaic vampiric tradition, but Louis never mentioned it to him in the weeks leading up to his turning. Either because he himself didn't know of it, or because he had no intention of using Owen like this.
“There you go,” Scott grins as Pyro drops to his knees at Scott's front. From his perch up above, Owen can see Scott's got one hand tangled in Pyro’s hair. The other is undoing the front of his pants.
Owen wouldn't have minded if Louis had wanted to use him like this. Given the chance, he probably would have volunteered. He would have gladly worshipped him in any way he wanted, had he wanted it.
But he doesn't think Louis would have wanted this. Not like this.
Pyro looks scared as Scott pulls his cock free, but he doesn't pull away. Whether that's due to the hand in his hair or the thought of disappointing his sire holding him in place, Owen doesn't know. Pyro has been an odd one since he turned (he can't speak for how he might have been before, he wasn't paying close enough attention to the other man to know) 1 part fearful, 2 parts wholeheartedly devoted to his sire. It kills Owen to see so much of himself in the fledgling.
He wonders, absently, as Scott pulls Pyro's head towards his hardening cock, if this little display is meant as a punishment for Pyro's little mistake with Shubble the day before. For stealing his meal.
He can't be bothered to ask. He’s just glad Shubble went back to town, so the youngling doesn’t see this. This nasty, dark, side of vampirism. For all her fiction stories, he isn’t sure she could stomach the real thing. Not if her aversion to even just drinking human blood was any indication.
He doesn't care, but he can't help the twinge he feels as his supernatural ears catch just the tiniest whimper from Pyro as Scott digs his thumb into Pyro’s mouth, holding his jaw open to fit his cock inside. Pyro doesn’t seem to be fighting it, eyes glued upwards on his sire. When Scott slips his thumb out, Pyro closes his lips around Scott’s cock. There's no doubt Scott hears it too, if his answering grin is any indication, and without a moment's hesitation he thrusts forward in one solid motion, until he's fully hilted in Pyro's drooling mouth.
Pyro's eyes are wide open with panic, but he doesn't thrash or try to pull away, nor does he gag. He just places his hands flat on his master’s thighs, and lets him use him as he pleases. Owen supposes it's a good thing vampires have no need of oxygen, or gag reflexes.
“Good boy,” Scott chokes out, his infallible composure broken with a wet hole to stick his dick into. With his back turned Owen can't see his expression, but he can see the way Scott has his head tilted towards the ceiling to avoid revealing what he's feeling to the fledgling below.
Slowly, Pyro pulls back, but not to escape. With his jaw wide and his lips firmly sealed over his sire's cock he begins bobbing, his eyes firmly glued upwards, watching with eagerness to please.
The whole scene is delicious. With his night vision he can see the little jerky thrusts Scott keeps making, desperately chasing his fledgling's mouth, no care given for the boy beneath him. He can hear the beautiful little whines escaping Scott as his pleasure builds, and he can't help himself. As silently as he can he untucks his own hard cock from its confines, and wraps a cold dry hand around himself.
It isn't the most satisfying thing in the world. He'd spit to lubricate himself, if he didn't think Scott would hear the noise, and he can't bear that smug bastard seeing him like this. Instead he pushes through the friction burn until enough precum leaks out that the back and forth slowly shifts from painful to somewhat pleasure.
Scott is having a grand old time below, if his ever louder grunts and moans are any indication. It seems he's given up on hiding his face from Pyro, and instead is almost curled over him with the force in which he shoves the fledgeling closer. Pyro, for all his fear earlier, looks up at Scott like there's no place he'd rather be than on his knees with his sire's cock shoved down his throat. Disgusting.
Pyro's eyes suddenly widen, and even through his full mouth Owen hears the surprised moan he lets out as his eyes roll up in pleasure.
A glance downwards reveals Scott’s got one boot pressed up against Pyro's tenting front, and Owen can only imagine how fantastic it must feel if Pyro’s pleased moans through his full mouth are any indication. He supposes, after having only his pants for friction all this time, even that would feel good to the little whelp. He quickens the pace of his hand.
“Good boy,” Scott praises breathlessly, not even pausing in his thrusts, “Good boy, go ahead, keep working your mouth like that and you can rub yourself all you want.”
He doesn't need to be told twice, and Pyro immediately begins ungraciously humping Scott's shined shoe, back and forth like a dog; but not once letting his sire's cock slip out from his lips. Rather, Scott's grip in Pyro's hair tightens as he thrusts to his undead heart's content.
They must be getting close, Owen damn well sure is. He bites his lip to keep quiet as he uses his own hand, closes his eyes, and lets himself imagine Scott's voice is that of Louis, calling him a good boy.
It hits him harder than he thought it would. He adjusts himself, so he’s up on his knees, and pretends he too is kneeling before his sire. He imagines what it would be like to have those kind eyes looking down on him, using him, rolling up in ecstasy as Owen gives him all he wants with voracious enthusiasm.
He comes embarrassingly quickly after that. He can't help the sigh he lets out when, for the briefest of moments, the tension leaves his body, and all his stress melts away. He catches himself from falling forward with his free hand, and tucks himself back in with the other before slumping backwards. For a single moment in time he forgets about Oakhurst, about Avid and his growing party of hunters, about Scott and his fucked up traditions. For one moment he is blissfully content.
But when he looks back up from his reverie, Scott, with his cock still down Pyro's throat and foot pressed to his front, is looking right at Owen with a satisfied smirk.
Bastard he curses to himself. He must not have been as quiet as he thought, and now the vampire lord is looking at him with those piercing eyes as he uses his fledgeling, thrusting forward, chasing his pleasure with no thought to the mouth wrapped around him.
Maybe he’s imagining it’s Owen down there on his knees, lips wrapped around his cock. The thought doesn’t bring as much disgust as he thought it might.
Scott doesn't break his stare to look down even when Pyro finally gives out, arching his back and coming right in his pants. Scott keeps on staring right at Owen as he pulls out, and finally releases all over Pyro's face.
He can admit, quietly and only to himself, that Pyro is quite attractive on his knees, face splattered in white. He wishes he were in his place.