Emotion was something Vice had been taught to suppress and dismiss.

As a vampire, pain was only a remnant of the human body's warning system for survival. Pain meant nothing to a creature that recovered from any wound save for the destruction of the brain. Some injuries healed on their own in an instant, others needed blood, but very little was life threatening to the power and durability vampire's possessed. Through the course of rigorous, torturous training, Vice no longer responded to the illusion of physical pain.

Anger was a futile emotion, serving only to dim the senses and impair cognition, giving away his location if it peaked his power. Love, now love was truly treacherous. It gave the strongest of men a weakness that could bring them to their knees, and it impaired intelligent decision under duress. It changed people, softened them, drove them to do things they'd never imagined. It also lit a passion that led to obsession if left unchecked.

Of that emotion, Vice was guilty.

The broad shoulders of Wren Sol had gotten wider by an increment after he'd accepted Talamayas as his soul bound. The power of his master had imbued the mage with a sturdier body, one more resilient, with greater endurance, and shallow dark magic parallel to Talamayas. Vice traced the dip in those powerful shoulders, learning every line of his new master's body as Wren lowered himself between Talamayas' legs.

Some might think Vice creepy if they knew he was standing here watching Talamayas wrap his tan-skinned hand in Wren's ruffled, red hair to push his face further down, but it wasn't like such activity was arousing to him. It certainly was for Talamayas. His master's fangs lengthened, and Talamayas opened his lips for a low moan of pleasure as he thrust his hips forward, Wren gripping his thighs to meet the pressure.

Vice had been at Talamayas side since he was newly changed, nearly fifty years now, and embarrassment and nervousness were not emotions he felt anymore. Two men moving against each other, one sweating as he strained his muscles and the other gasping to inhale the essence of the other was just mechanical. It was another facet of Talamayas Sol's life that he experienced alongside the man.

Talamayas knew he was here.

He always did.

The blood flowing inside of Vice had originated within Talamayas' body, and it fueled him, gave him life, made him stronger, and connected him with Talamayas in a way no other could experience. That was the result of Vice's warped change, the need to feed on vampire blood. For fifty years he'd stood at Talamayas side, invisible, but always close enough to touch or breathe him in. Vice wasn't a guard so much as he was Talamayas, as extension of his soul, a second take on any decision he made, the eyes that watched his back, the arms that carried his will, the keeper of everything Talamayas had ever seen or experienced.

Talamayas had changed over the years, and Vice couldn't say he liked or disliked it. He'd been taught to feel neither. What Talamayas did was just that, nothing he objected to nor commended. It just was. The arch of Talamayas' hips and the grunt of pleasure as he gripped Wren's hair and locked him in place, his fangs straining with the desire for blood as he dropped his head back onto the pillows, the shudder that rolled down his body as he released himself into Wren's lips, and the glow of ecstasy in his crimson eyes that neared Talamayas' expression of agony so closely that it was indistinguishable.

They just all were.

At some point, Vice had felt. He'd been emotional, frightened and angry, but Talamayas had worked all of that out of him. That wasn't to say he was programmed or unhappy. Every moment by Talamayas' side gave Vice a calm completeness that kept him going in the morning and throughout the day. Talamayas knew Vice was there but never forgot, even though he was invisible to prying eyes. Just a brush of Talamayas' hand against his face, their shoulders rubbing in greeting, and the way Talamayas was always there if Vice needed him. They all made him happy. Though he wasn't sure he experienced the emotion like others.

Sadness was an emotion that could be just as calm as the rest of him, buried in his heart but not showing on the surface. It could linger under his skin without effecting his prowess in battle nor his vigilance in defending his master, but during times of rest it could sank in and take hold so that he was sluggish.

As the lights dimmed in the lowest level's store room that Wren and Talamayas shared, his masters fell into each other's arms, and Vice didn't know what to do with himself. Before Wren had come along, Vice had shared Talamayas bed each morning. Not in the passionate, romantic way that the two men did now, but in a gentler acceptance of Vice's permanent presence in Talamayas' life. The warmth of Talamayas arms against Vice's cool skin had eased him as he formed to the shape of his master's chest and absorbed the protectiveness of his powerful magic. Just as Vice would die to protect Talamayas, so would his master for him.

Though Wren lay in the place Vice once occupied, he couldn't say that he disliked him. It was quite the opposite. That single man so many years ago had been the weight on the scale of Vice's decision to serve of leave Talamayas. Locked in Talamayas' dungeons and tortured every night of his life, Wren had bid Vice to stay, told him that Talamayas was decent, kind, and would bring him and his brother happiness. What prisoner praised his torturer? Wren had seen past Talamayas' pain and rage into the man he truly was, even before he'd grown to love him. Wren Song was just the person Talamayas had needed. Strong yet gentle, intelligent but also more resilient than any one man had a right to be.

What place did that leave for Vice though?

Certainly, Talamayas still wanted Vice by his side, as did Wren whenever they interacted. Both were now the coleaders of the Sol people, and Vice was happy and proud to be their most trusted advisor, protector, and infiltrator. Still, Vice yearned for something that he didn't know how to identify. Wren and Talamayas pleasuring each other didn't make him jealous nor desirous, and while not sleeping in Talamayas' arms made him feel a little cold, he didn't feel shunned nor replaced. Vice's position was not one that could be filled by any other, and both he and Talamayas knew that.

What emotion was it then?

Loneliness? How could it be when he was never alone? Vice had Talamayas and Wren as masters, and he even had friends as new as some of that was. Neil Arc had been with him at the very beginning, a young human boy before he'd joined vampire kind at the young age of eighteen. Vice enjoyed the energetic man's company as well as his mate, Silvia, a powerful mage with a drinking habit that made gatherings all the more entertaining. Silvia loved Vice a bit too much when he visited, always fawning on and chastising him, depending on which vessel she interacted with.

They differed his two bodies, yet his mind was one. It was something not easily explainable to humans, but all thoughts crossed through one mind. The interpretation of events through the perception of each vessel just differed to a small degree. While he was Vice now, at some time he'd had two names.

Stone and Ghost.

Ghost was quieter and calmer, a caretaker but strong when faced with stressors. Stone, not so much. After Stone's trip to the afterlife, he was a bit different. Feeding from vampire blood and using unearthly magic aside, he was direct, impatient, and brusque with other's troubles. Stone's touch wasn't as gentle as Ghost's, nor was he able to stay as calm under duress. It took his connection to Ghost to compose him at times, which was also hard to explain.

Things occurred to each of them, but once they mixed in their singular mind, they evened out. That meant that they could perceive and think differently about things on first contact, but that it was all the same after a second or so. If Stone hungered for blood from injury and Ghost was not so, the emotion disappeared as if it never existed. Would he fall if he ran out of blood, yes, but he wouldn't he lunge in the violent hunger of a vampire at its limits.

It made being emotionless easier. What felt more strongly to one side of him didn't persist once it processed between them. They were one soul bound together, one consciousness, one life. When Stone had slipped into the realm of the dead, Ghost had taken hold and pulled him back, tethered them together, and he'd woken as one with his brother.

An interesting shot gun of thoughts collided if he ever cared to think about it. Arguing with oneself had never been so interesting before they'd been connected. Ghost wondered if he'd really saved Stone, and Stone shut him up in half a millisecond of a mental slap. They knew they were both here, just couldn't separate themselves was all. Stone wondered if he hadn't stolen his brother's life by merging with his soul, and Ghost just chuckled as he held him closer and loved every second of being bound to him. It was rather difficult to argue with oneself when he played both sides.

How could he be lonely when he had his brother with him always, when he had someone who cared for and needed him, when he had friends who cherished and loved him? What was he missing? Vice trailed his eyes down to the bed, and Talamayas was looking at him with soft crimson eyes. Talamayas was an expert at sensing his fluctuation energy, his emotions, though they were so shallow and few.

"Come, Vice," Talamayas said, extending a hand.

And Vice went.

Indecision, resistance, objection, all emotions that he no longer felt. What Talamayas commanded of him, he did without question. That was how it had been since he'd agreed to be by his side forever. That wasn't to say he was a slave. Talamayas shared his entire life with him, was honest about his feelings, his fears, his hopes. Vice saw every side of Talamayas, was completely honest with him about everything in return, and Talamayas returned every ounce of trust and transparency.

At the side of the bed, Vice shimmered into view, echoing his master's tan skin and short pitch hair as he reached for Talamayas hand as commanded. Talamayas pulled him, and Vice gasped as he tumbled into the bed and onto his masters. It took him a second to calm his heart from the surprise, and he lifted himself to Talamayas tucking him into his side as he always had. Wren groaned as Talamayas near pushed him off the bed to make room, and Vice watched as Wren got up and stretched, the full length of his pale, naked body reflecting the barest light from the candles that lit the far end of the chamber.

Wren wasn't Talamayas, and Vice wondered if the mage ever grew tired of him or if he wanted him to be around less. Ghost smothered those thoughts as quick as they came, but Stone didn't shadow Wren as his brother did. Vice was unsure of his place in this new joining of their soul's as mates.

Yawning, Wren grumbled something and came around the bed to Vice's back, shooing Talamayas further into the bed. Vice got the feeling that he was in the way, but Talamayas moved to the other edge of the bed with him. There, Talamayas molded Vice to his side and chest in a closeness that eased any emotion he'd had left. Light energy tainted by the magic of Talamayas' soul bond caressed his back, and Vice found himself pressed between the two men as Wren joined them. Wren slipped an arm around Vice's stomach and pressed his face into the back of Vice's neck with a breath of calm as he settled in.

"Is this better?" Wren whispered into his ear, and Vice was lost as both men sandwiched him, constricting closer as they got comfortable.

There were no words to the comfort of having his mouth tucked into Talamayas' throat and Wren's lips on the back of his head, running over his hair and breathing him in as he pulled Talamayas closer. This would seems strange to most people, two naked men snuggling him between them, every inch of their bodies separated by only the sheer black fabric that stretched along Vice's contours.

It wasn't though

There was no embarrassment, shame, nor discomfort, only a completeness of being one with his masters as they surrounded him, smothered him in their magic, and accepted him as if he didn't need to use words to explain his feelings. It made him truly happy to close his eyes and join them in slumber.

So why was there still sadness buried deeply within him?

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