alaricity-blog

[alaricity-blog]

Archiving -

This blog is now officially no more. Go follow @fatedforhell to keep up with Ric’s shenanigans! <3 

[alaricity-blog]

cognacandchess:

Elijah wasn’t concerned. He didn’t believe Alaric could bore him; no mind so busy could. It would seek and quest always. How readily he had agreed to be swept away to Europe, only hours ago! Perhaps in a few years, when Alaric could no longer ignore the way people spoke of how astonishingly well he was aging, they could even settle in Europe a while.

Elijah let his eyes close, let Alaric’s mouth set his skin alight, sparks and flames and a warm, probing tongue, and he let himself appreciate the consideration Alaric showed by not tossing his shirt aside. There was a great deal to appreciate. He crooked his arm around Alaric’s neck as he felt the delicious tease of silk against his erection.

“Am I?” he asked, stripping the rest of the way down, with no thought to the art of the gesture. “How thoughtful, darling.” He followed Alaric onto the bed, settling against his body, and re-taking his mouth, fierce and hungry. He slotted his thigh between Alaric’s legs, so they each had some chance to find some much-needed friction. “And if I only want to worship you, with my hands, and my mouth?” His hand ran down the side of Alaric’s delicious body, rich with muscle, ripe with strength, and he rolled hips, mouth finding the pulse point of his throat.

He kissed his way down Alaric’s body, slowly, tasting every inch. Perhaps too slowly. Elijah didn’t mind the idea that his line of kisses, this fire, might drive Alaric to the brink; he wanted the intimacy, the emotion, the quiet shared thoughts. They had as long as they wanted for everything else.

Elijah let the hair on Alaric’s chest brush over his nose, and followed the narrowing trail until it met with the tight curls at the base of his magnificent cock, letting his nose bump all the way until he could inhale that sweet musk. He let his tongue run up over that thick, dark vein, and smiled.

“Perhaps I want to spoil you.”

Suddenly the idea of just using mouth and hands sounded better than any other idea Alaric had ever had. Yes, definitely. He wanted to be spoiled, and if Elijah was in the mood to spoil him…all the better. “Spoil away, but remember that turnabout is fair play. You spoil me, I get to spoil you next.”

The thought of taking Elijah in his mouth, working his cock until he came. Yes. Ric wanted that more than he’d wanted anything in a really long time. There was something intimate about what Elijah was proposing, not just the slap of flesh and press of bodies. This was love, intimacy at its highest.

And yes, Alaric had been right earlier…he was so in love.

His mouth opened, breath catching, when Elijah’s tongue swept over his cock. Fingers fell to Elijah’s hair, tightening against dark silk, and Ric moaned out fragments of his name. He spread his legs just a little, letting the Original settle against him a bit more. “This is one of your better ideas,” Ric teased, licking his suddenly too-dry lips. Fuck, it felt like the Sahara in his mouth. “Don’t stop. Just don’t…”

But he knew that once Elijah’s mind was made up, there was no stopping him. It was one of the main reasons Ric loved him so desperately.

“Spoil,” he chastised lightly. “Don’t tease.”

The hand in Elijah’s hair got a little more insistent, pulling him exactly where he wanted him. “I need to feel your mouth,” he whispered, voice harsh and thick with lust – and tinged with just the right amount of emotions.

In the grand scheme of things, Alaric would have never thought he would have Elijah Mikaelson in this position, mouth poised right over his cock, ready to spoil him with the touch of his tongue. Elijah had always seemed far to put together, far too larger than life, for this.

But Ric certainly wasn’t complaining.

“Please, Elijah..but I am returning the favor just as soon as you’re done. My mouth. Your cock. Don’t make me wait too long.”

whiling away the hours || eliric

[alaricity-blog]

I am going to be migrating Alaric over to my multi-muse @fatedforhell in the coming week and this blog will be archived. Please feel free to follow me over there to interact with/keep up with what’s going on with him! 

[alaricity-blog]

☻ [because what are rules]

Send ☻ and my muse will explain one way in which your muse makes them smile.

“Damon, you jackass. You know how you make me smile. You made me realize that not everything that goes bump in the night is evil. You made me realize that I needed time to be Alaric the man - and not just Alaric the hunter. You made me realize that I needed something in my life other than what I had. You opened my eyes, and that will always make me smile.” 

[alaricity-blog]

Alaric & Georgie in every episode 8x5

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ricsidiotbestfriend:

This really was spectacularly fun, and not just because of the way Alaric was lurching and giggling. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled… swigging champagne from the neck of the bottle… Damon was going to courier a copy of the DVD to Stefan’s current abode with a bouquet and possibly a strip-o-gram. He needed to come up with something that rhymed with ‘married a hunter’. In the back seat of the taxi, Damon cheerfully let himself be pinned to the seat, rolling his hips up to make sure Alaric knew exactly what was waiting for him in the morning. Or the early afternoon. Or whenever the hell they woke up. Damon didn’t care.

“Football fields. Hmm. They’re big, right?” Damon took the wedding certificate, which was already getting crumpled, and rolled it in the little cardboard tube they’d tucked into the bag with the DVDs (beautifully emblazoned with a silhouette of two Elvises under a wedding arch… well, well well, they were learning to cater to everyone, weren’t they?).

“They’ve got everything,” Damon promised. “But no, red velvet pancakes and lamb chops sounds absolutely disgusting, not that it should stop you.” He slipped his hand into Alaric’s. “Honestly, three football fields worth of food and you want cheese fries? Ew.”

Except if Alaric wanted cheese fries, they were getting cheese fries. (also, if Alaric wanted cuddling, Alaric was getting the most thorough cuddling of his life.) Damon gave his hand a squeeze and dragged him in the direction of the guy who wanted either their money or their passes, and dug the passes out of the bag.

“And point us to the cheese fries,” he said, with a wink, and the man did as he was asked, years of despair over people who eat too much etched into his features. Poor soul.

So. Plates. Damon found them, and started off. “The question of the night is… exactly how much can Alaric Saltzman eat? I feel like having a bet with myself.”

A little while later they were sitting at a surprisingly elegant table with a less elegant amount of food; Damon didn’t even particularly care about the food, just wanted to watch Alaric enjoy himself, which was why Damon had put himself together a huge and obscene sundae with both hot and cold chocolate sauce and a lot of nuts. Plus whipped cream, the gross fake kind which Damon loved. Also a handful of cherries, mostly so he could suck the chocolate sauce off them and remind Alaric he was a genius for having proposed and wedded him in under an hour.

“I’m buying better rings,” Damon said, pointing his long sundae spoon at Alaric, and then sucking the ice cream off it in a way that would have gotten him arrested for lewd conduct in Utah, and possibly also Alabama. “Tomorrow. If we get out of bed. Or the next day. Something classic. And by classic, I mean expensive and impossible to remove.” He patted his eyelashes, and caught another spoonful of ice cream, while his ankle hooked around Alaric’s under the table. “Eat up. I want you sober and super, super bendy in the morning.”

The question of the night wasn’t how much Alaric Saltzman could eat; it was how much could Alaric Saltzman eat before he was singing praises to the gods while bent over the toilet bowl.

And would Damon hold his hair back?

Still, it was worth the challenge (and possible side effects), and Alaric felt glorious. He was married to about the sexiest creature to ever walk the planet, he was drunk off his ass on really good booze, and he was spending the week not hunting down monsters. Win. Win. Win.

“You need a tiara and a just married sash.” Alaric was only barely kidding. “I would look good on you. Maybe we can stop by Victoria Secrets…get you something lacy.” That had started out as a joke as well, but damned if the mental image didn’t make him wish they were somewhere alone – instead of in a vast sea of…

What was that smell?

“Found the fries!” Alaric pointed excitedly at a basket of fries being poured out onto the buffet. They were sitting next to a well of cheese sauce, chili, sour cream…the makings of a beautiful mess that would certainly lead to indigestion later. “Does vampire blood help with heartburn?” he asked, not even remotely playing around. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Alaric knew he was going to pay for all this in the morning.

He took the plate from Damon and began loading it up. Fries. Chili. Cheese. Green Onions. Bacon bits. Jalapenos. Delicious.

“They have ice cream. Look,” he pointed to the back wall where there was a build your own sundae bar and about a hundred different types of pies, cakes, and other desserts. Fuck, he was in love. “I’m going to be so sick, but I’m going to love every minute… Eat something so I don’t look like the only tourist with eyes bigger than my stomach.”

A few minutes later he was at a table waiting on Damon to join him, happily munching on fries, and eyeing his next stop on the buffet. “You know what I think?” Alaric looked up as Damon sat down. “I think we should make this a tradition – every year until I’m old, fat, bald and in a rocker. Come here for our anniversary. Eat cheese fries and stay in a hotel with a room as big as a bowling alley. What do you think?”

sin city

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incorrecttvdquotes:

Alaric: You’re not even listening to me! Damon: No, I heard you. You said a bunch of words, right?

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allroundlostcause:

practically indiana jones. [x]

[alaricity-blog]

Alaric was drunk, yes, and tomorrow he might raise an eyebrow at the damage he’d done to his liver (not really, he was still pumped full of Damon’s blood, so he’d probably not even wake up with much of a hangover…couldn’t get used to that feeling), but tonight he was on cloud nine. Tonight he was marrying the man he loved, and drunk or not – nothing was going to change how happy that made him. Ric had given up thinking about happy endings long ago, but then Damon blew into his life like a hurricane and changed everything.

Who would have thought? A vampire and a hunter.

He stared into Damon’s eyes (okay, maybe he swayed a little) while they both repeated vows, and then it was over. They were officially married – officially husband and husband. He giggled, swayed some more, and then kissed his new husband with as much passion as he could muster in his current state.

Linking their hands, he totally ignored the Elvis impersonator as he started talking about paperwork and copies of the video. They were married. That was all Alaric cared about, but he reached out blindly and took the copy of their marriage certificate. He nodded absently as the man told them it would be filed with the city the next morning.

They were married.

Alaric Saltzman had just married Damon Salvatore at an Elvis chapel in Las Vegas. It couldn’t have been more perfect.

“Mhmm,” he said, pulling Damon in for another long slow kiss. He only stopped when someone in the room cleared their throat and very politely reminded them that they had another couple waiting. Ric took Damon’s hand and grabbed the DVDs and their champagne and headed toward the door. Realistically, he knew not much else would happen tonight. He had so much to drink that part probably wouldn’t work.

They could definitely cuddle though, and then wake up to some monumental morning sex.

But first. “Food. I need to sober up, and a buffet sounds like the best bad idea in the world.” Luckily, there was a taxi outside, waiting for just the opportunity the two of them presented – two drunk newlyweds, way too far gone to walk, and looking for a quick way back to their hotel.

They made out all the way to Caesar’s Palace. Ric was pretty sure the cab driver was used to seeing stuff like that, but still he seemed in no hurry to stick around once he’d been paid. “Thanks,” he slurred, but he was talking to tailpipe and brake lights by the time he got the word out.

He could smell food from the lobby. God help them for making this a buffet; it just occurred to him that he’d never even gotten his fries at the bar…and before that it was breakfast the last time they ate anything. “I’m starving. I heard this place is three football fields long. Food as far as the eye can see. Someone at the hotel said they had red velvet pancakes and lamb chops.” He leaned heavily on Damon’ arm, fingers twined together. “Do you think lamb chops go with red-velvet pancakes? Do you want to go back to the room and cuddle after we eat? I wonder if they have cheese fries? I didn’t get my cheese fries at the bar.”

He almost pouted, but any irritation he felt was wiped away the second they stepped inside. Ric was like a kid at Christmas, a drunk kid at Christmas but still… “I’m in love,” he said, a little too loudly. “Fuck me, Damon. Where do we start?”

sin city

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[alaricity-blog]

His lips were still pressed against Elijah’s, tongue still in a dominance fight that Ric wasn’t sure he wanted to win, as they half stumbled their way down the hallway toward his – their – bedroom. “Here’s hoping I can keep surprising you, and you don’t get bored,” he said, grinning though he meant it more than he let on. It still amazed him that someone with as much life experience and as much…regality…as Elijah had wanted anything at all to do with a walking disaster of a history professor.

Ric broke the things he touched – as evidenced by what he was now. Elijah should have run screaming…but no, he couldn’t imagine Elijah running or screaming over anything.

The bed hadn’t even been made from their romp shortly after waking this morning, but Ric didn’t care. He slipped out of the shirt that Elijah had been unbuttoning, hands sliding over expensive cloth as he began to unbutton Elijah’s as well. His mouth was on the Original’s skin as each inch was exposed – tongue dragging lazily over his collar bone, awkwardly dipping lower so that warm lips slipped along his chest.

“Want you,” he mumbled, voice hoarse and broken. He slipped the shirt off, tossing it at a chair because he knew how Elijah felt about wrinkled clothing. Next, Ric’s fingers deftly unbuttoned Elijah’s suit pants, zipper follower, before his hand dipped inside, caressing his cock over the silk of his boxers. Usually this wound up in a fight for who was going to be on top. Sometimes he won. Sometimes Elijah won.

Tonight Ric didn’t feel like fighting.

He took a step back, fingers working his own jeans open and pushing them down his thighs – boxers too – and kicked them off along with his boots. Ric wasn’t particularly worried about where his clothes ended up. Sparing just a second to pull off his socks, he slid back onto the bed. “C’mere. Don’t want to play the who’s topping game tonight. You are. I just wanna be with you.”

whiling away the hours || eliric

By the time they were done eating, Elijah was quite sure he had shattered any lingering hopes that Alaric’s young student might have ever had about an easy A. Probably unnecessary, but he enjoyed the process nonetheless. And by the time he paid the bill, with a tip they would all be talking about for weeks, the sexual tension had reached the point where no sugar-laden concoction could have made for a sweeter dessert.

Frankly, Alaric looked like he was losing his mind.

As they walked, Elijah tried to remember. “I’ve forgotten more languages than I know,” he said, airily. “I surprise myself, from time to time, by understanding something before I can readily identify the language. I suspect it’s all up there…” He frowned. “Middle Aramaic sticks, because I learned it so early. Most of the Romance languages…” He didn’t even allow himself a half-smile at the double entendre. He wondered how many years it had been since he had walked with someone holding his hand, and concluded that it had been… many years. Very many. “I must confess I have never delved far into any Asian language, beyond Hindi. A terrible oversight. I’ve spent very little time in any part of Asia…”

He stayed relatively quiet, the rest of the way back to Alaric’s home, but that is not to say he was anything less than one hundred percent prepared and responsive when Alaric slammed him into the closed door.

He wondered how long it would take before that instinct for defence would evaporate completely; but he had to confess that being dominated by someone whose strength matched his own was… well, ‘delightful’ was the word that came to mind, but not the word he would have used out loud. It was the audacity; strength aside, Alaric didn’t have one-twentieth of Elijah’s life experience, and he had a lack of respect for hierarchy that on most would have amounted to a death sentence, but on Alaric, was an aphrodisiac.

But those words.

He searched Alaric’s eyes for some evidence that he was saying what was expected of him, and found none. A trail of fire ran up Elijah’s spine and burned behind his eyes.

An equal.

He nodded, momentarily disoriented, and began to fumble with Alaric’s buttons, edging him away from the entryway and back towards the kitchen where a paperclip turn would take them to the bedroom.

“Quite unexpected,” he said, clumsily. “These things do happen.” He pushed Alaric’s shirt off his shoulders, steering him towards the bed. “You’ve surprised me. So many times. I’ve enjoyed every minute, Alaric.”

[alaricity-blog]

Alaric barely heard the cheers; he was too wrapped up in the fact that Damon said yes. They were getting married. Married. Huh. He – a professed vampire hating hunter – was marrying a decidedly unapologetic vampire. The world was coming to an end. In that particular moment though, all he could do was hold his breath as Damon pulled him along at a pace that was just short of supernatural speed.

Or maybe Ric was just that drunk.

Yeah, he was probably that drunk.

It was a two minute walk to the chapel next door. He practically staggered up the steps, but they were met at the door by an Elvis impersonator in a tuxedo. A toothy grin and a black pompadour finished the look, and it was all Alaric could do not to touch his hair.

“That’s a lot of hairspray,” he stage-whispered, squeezing Damon’s hand a little too tightly. Boy, he was going to need some serious Tylenol in the morning – and likely some alone time with the porcelain gods while all this alcohol came back up. “We’re getting married,” he announced, too loudly.

The man ushered them in, shoved paperwork at them, and handed over a placard that had all the packages on them. For a hundred and fifty dollars they got the ceremony, an audio CDs of it, and a commemorative picture. For two hundred dollars they got all the above and a couple passes to an all-you-can-eat buffet at Caesar’s Palace. Three hundred dollars got them the added benefits of a video and a bottle of champagne.

“Oh champagne!” Ric’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, even though he’d had more than his fair share (and honestly, more than a lot of people’s fair shares…)

“We want that one,” he pointed at the one that included alcohol, signed his name to the paperwork, and passed the pen over to Damon. Then they were moving again, into a chapel that looked like the set of a cheap B-grade rom-com. It was pink – PINK – Ric was going to hate himself in the morning simply for the fact that he’d gotten married in a room that looked like it had vomited Pepto-Bismol.

“Do you have rings?” the not-Elvis asked. “Because we sell those too. Sterling silver. Pretty. Even big enough to fit those fingers,” he added, eyeing Ric’s hands. “After we settle up the payment, we’ll be ready to get started. Is this going to be cash or charge?”

sin city

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[alaricity-blog]

Places you can find me: 

@thefunsalvatorebrother  (Damon Salvatore/Private/Active) @notjustasister (Freya Mikaelson/Private/Semi-Active) @alaricity (Alaric Saltzman/Private/Not-really-that-active) @moonoverbourbon (Klaus Mikaelson/Private/Main)

[alaricity-blog]

[alaricity-blog]

As a head’s up, this isn’t a super active blog! I have a main blog ( @moonoverbourbon )  where I usually can be found! 

[alaricity-blog]

You are lying if you say this don’t make you smile.