Every surface in the library's covered with books but one -- so Serendipity's stretched out full-length on his stomach on the librarian's desk. His coat's hung on the coatrack by the door, at least, where a small puddle beneath it testifies that the blizzard began before he showed up. He's engrossed in a book -- a rather dogeared-looking paperback of some description -- and humming absently to himself as he reads.

The wind shrieks as the door bangs open to admit a snow-covered, man-shaped lump. This animate snowman ambles inside, slams the door shut, and stations himself directly in front of one of the gently glowing red crystals on wrought-iron stands that currently populate the library. Snow and ice starts sliding off him at a great rate, a miniature avalanche. "S'up," the emerging Tristan says, irritably.

Serendipity glances up, and smirks a little. "Hey," he replies, looking Tristan over, and looks back to his book, still reading -- or at least studying. "...get caught having to choose between freezing and disintegrating?"

Tristan grumbles inaudibly as he divests himself of his overgarment of winter. "This is bullshit, man, I'm gonna go winter in fuckin Miami or some shit. Wait, Miami's underwater now. Nevermind." The gentle yet thorough heat of the red crystal is thawing him out nicely, his clothing already starting to steam. "Ain't never been so damn frozen on a regular basis in my life."

"There's places down south aren't bad. Bits along the Rio Grande that're good for it -- warm weather, lotsa taverns, lotsa tavern girls..." Ren sounds a touch nostalgic, there. He twists onto his side to see Tristan better. "So how long's that life, anyway? And we are talkin' kinda figuratively here, right? Unless you met a really fucked up tooth doctor."

Tristan smirks, lip curling enough to expose a normally-sized, but very pointy canine. "A figurative life, yep, that's me." He plucks at his shirt, already drying in spots. "Kids used ta like to pretend to be vampires, back in the Long Night, yannow, they had like, fangs n shit to put on. Fuckin' morons."

Serendipity smirks back. "Yeah, no shit. Bet they got their asses kicked a lot. 'specially anyone still doin' it when the sun came. Y'know, you're the first I ever actually got to meet, who wasn't busy running away or gettin' killed." Pause. "Again."

Tristan's smirk transforms subtly into a wry grin. "Yeah. Tell me about it." He looks down at himself, brushing at the remaining wet spots on his clothing. "Dyin' once is enough for me. Any more than that and yer looking at some -serious- repercussions, yaknowwhaddamean?"

Serendipity hehs. "Yeah; I figure born once is enough, too. Once each way's plenty for me. Actually, my current aim's to stick with born once, dead no times for as long as I can pull it off." He sits up on the desk, pulling his legs in indian-style, and studies Tristan for a few moment. "So how come no one here's tryin' to make you give it a second take? If y'don't mind me asking."

Tristan enhs, meandering away from the heat source and flopping himself down on a beanbag, squirming around for a minute to dig himself into it. "Rowan thinks about it. A lot. I can practically see him pickin out the best way to ram the stake through my chest. But he's made up his mind ta tolerate me until I need untoleratin'. And I ain't lived this long past the Sun's return to get untolerable." The irony of that statement seems to escape him.

Serendipity seems to miss any irony there himself. "Fair enough." He stretches, pulling the book into his lap, glances at it, and then flicks it closed as he looks over at Tristan again, reminded of something. "So dead guys're really not into the ladies anymore, huh? Or the laddies, whatever? What's the deal with that?" Pause, considering. "Or's that just you?"

Tristan grins again. "Well, it ain't just me, but, well, okay, it's like this. See, we don't reproduce with sex. We reproduce with th' Embrace. So there ain't no purpose for genitals anymore, or a sex drive. But that don't stop some leeches. They claim it still -feels- good, jes' not as good as th' Kiss. That's the main thing, see. Nothing feels as good as the Kiss. -Nothin.- So I think it's a waste a good blood to keep the ol' nads operational, s'just stupid, yannow? I'll show ya if ya want, but they look kinda gross, they're not filled out or nuthin anymore, hell I don't even need to piss anymore, no need at all for em."

Serendipity arches a brow, considering this offer. Curiosity versus the underlying certain knowledge that it's probably going to be disturbing. Oh, hell, no contest. He grins broadly, and shrugs. "Hell, why not, whack 'em on the table, let's see," he decides, shifting over a little to make room for the offer. "...so basically for leeches, kissing's better'n sex? Weird priorities, man."

Tristan gives Ren a weird look, as he twists to his feet. "Not kissing. The Kiss. The bite, like, with the fangs and blood? Man, kids these days." He shakes his head at the tragedy of modern ignorance, sauntering close to Ren while unbuttoning his corduroys and dropping his fly. "Okay, check 'em out." There's no hesitation or embarrassment at all as he offers his genitals for Ren's edification. They are, indeed, not plump and heavy with life and blood like Ren's own, but quiet and limp, somewhat flat from being pressed in Tristan's clothes. Not as withered as he's said in the past, but not exactly a comfortable sight, either.

"Hey, I told you alla y'all I met up with so far were in the middle of flying or dying," Ren replies in distracted protest, brow furrowing a little. "Dude. That's... freaky weird." He reaches out and pokes lightly with a fingertip, as if it doesn't occur to him that this might be considered -- well, rude, at the least. "...really, really weird." He shakes his head, and grins as he glances back up toward Tristan's face. "Never seen any looking that unenthused close up," he remarks, getting comfortable on the desk again. "So no more sex, and all with the biting. Huh. So do you, like, see someone hot passing by and think, 'man, I could really sink my teeth into =her=, or what?"

Tristan allows Ren to look and handle as he will, utterly unperturbed. His flesh is soft and cool to the touch, unnervingly malleable, there. When Ren is finished he stuffs himself back and zips up, with another grin. "Kinda. You want me to be brutally honest about it, I think that pretty much all the time."

Serendipity grins back. "Heh. Me too, and I don't even suck blood. Think anyone 'round here's particularly biteable, or just hungry? Do any of 'em, like, let you bite them, or what do you eat?"

"A couple of 'em've let me drink, when I was in a bad way with the hunger, but mostly I eat animals." Tristan glances at the library door, lips twisted. "Fuck if I know how I'm gonna survive the winter here, though, if I can't get outside long enough ta hunt and all the deer've moved somewhere sensible, anyway."

Serendipity leans back on his elbows, considering the vampire. "Y'didn't answer alla the question," he points out. "So who've you been biting? ...are they tasty?" He sounds decidedly intrigued by all this. "Do they hafta wander around in high collars for a week after?"

"A gen'leman never tells," Tristan replies loftily, sticking his nose in the air. "Heh, nah, you never heard about it? We can heal any bite with a lick. So like, if I bit you," there may be the slightest trace of desire in his voice when he says that, but it's repressed with the ease of very long practice, "afterwards, I just lick where I bit, and yer allbetter."

"And you're a gentleman, huh? ...nah, I never managed to find out much; people mostly don't wanna talk 'bout it, y'know?" Serendipity looks speculative. Gee, whyever would anyone not be inclined to discuss these things with him? "So how come people don't just let you have a drink?"

The look Tristan gives Ren this time is more than a little weird. "Lotta reasons. Like, how you gonna trust me to stop? And there used ta be this thing called VAIDS that was transmitted through th' Kiss. Vampires used to just fuckin pluck people off the street or whatever and drain em dry. Lots of bad mojo around the bite. Plus, most people think it's pretty vile, just on general principles. I never ask. Sometimes folks offer, 'n that's cool."

Serendipity nods. "Well, yeah, I heard about the draining thing. I mean -- hell, there's a shitload of stories. But it's one thing when there's a lotta you and you run the place, and another when you're the only one around who's inclined to drink the stuff and there's at least one person around who grows freakin' huge claws and teeth and's waiting for you to get intolerable and all, yeah?" He sets the book he'd been reading aside, thoughtfully. "And the rest's history." He studies Tristan a little more, like it might reveal something of immediate, important interest.

Tristan grins again. "Hey, not that I don't agree with ya, I'm just telling ya how it is. Anyway, I really don't wanna piss anybody off. As shitty as my life can be, I ain't willing to give it up just yet. And believe me, there's plenty a people who'd be happy to help me on my way." He shrugs. "And it's how I always managed, so, ain't like I'm lamenting the days of yore or nothin."

Serendipity half-smirks, and sits up again, brushing a few stray strands out of his face. "Well, fuck. I'll try anything twice," he decides with a shrug. "You particularly hungry?"

The transformation in Tristan's expression is startling. He's surprised by the offer--even though this IS Ren--and desire comes through like a light, turning his eyes bluer. Those eyes half-lidded, he looks Ren down, then up, appraisingly, and brings up a hand to rub his mouth. "For a warm mortal like you? I'm -always- hungry."

Serendipity grins wickedly, and reaches back to let his hair free of its confinement -- it had started to slip anyway -- arching a brow slightly. "Man, nicest thing anyone's said t'me in days," he laments lightly, and slips an arm behind his head to draw the curtain of hair away from one side of his neck, pulling it around to drape in front of the other shoulder. "Just remember you gotta leave enough for everyone else, yeah?"

Tristan's expression intensifies as Ren bares his neck, but he's grinning again. "Y'ain't got no sense of romance, man. Drinking from the carotid's the quick'n'dirty way. There's a lot nicer veins, and hey, wouldn't ya want the full effect?" He draws a step closer to the young man, his gaze dropping again as if considering an angle of attack.

The complaint almost gets a laugh; the grin's only a half-step away from it. "What can I say, all I know's what I hear in the stories," Ren apologises with mock-regret that turns into equally posed solemnity, though there's a distinct vein of his nigh-ubiquitous flirtation in it, "...guess you'll just have to teach me the appropriate ways of it, oh guru." He shifts his position slightly again, still crosslegged but leaning just slightly back, hands flat on the desk at either side of his hips and arms straight to support him. He tilts his head a little, watching Tristan with an interested, somewhat teasing gaze, and his hair slides to hang down behind and around him again.

"Well." Tristan taps his lips mock-thoughtfully. "Usually when I wanna be reasonably polite, but still enjoy it, n all, I take from the crook of th' arm, here." He grips Ren's elbow, his thumb pressing through fabric to feel the pulse on the inside of the elbow. "There's also th' inside of the thigh, here," his hand travels down to Ren's hip, slipping into the crease between thigh and groin, "th' back of the knees, though I ain't too partial to that one myself...and hell, if you wanna be -really- kinky, you can drink from th' no-no place itself, though, hey, we should at least see a movie or somethin first before that one." His tone is light, but he can't disguise the longing in it.

The contact's a little weird, what with the rather noticeable lack of body heat transferred through the touches, but not weird enough to give the Coyotekin second thoughts. Ren stays where he is, though he lets his arm be moved if it helps the illustration, and he watches Tristan's hand move with partly-lidded eyes and a somewhat fainter than usual smile, both of which he glances up to direct to the vampire. "Heh... variety, the spice of life. I don't think they're holding any special showings in here tonight, but hey -- options, still." His lips have dried a little; he takes a second to solve that with a flick of the tip of his tongue.

Up close, Tristan doesn't get any prettier, but there's something about his need that has a subtly transforming effect on his plain features. He wears desire well, somehow. He also doesn't smell like anything at all, other than cold water and the faintest scent of earth, almost like patchouli. "Maybe I oughta take it slow," he mutters. "Don't wanna scare ya. You got a preference?"

"I don't scare easy," Serendipity murmurs in reply, and grins again, a touch crookedly, "...not that there's anything wrong with slow. I'm flexible... hard t' have a preference before ya try something, right?" His breath's a touch deeper than normal -- something about this, at least, seems to be getting his (warm, fresh, tasty) blood going. Appropriately enough.

Tristan licks his lips, unaware he's doing it. "Fine. Y'know the options. Fer now..." He steps very, very close indeed, in fact setting one leg between Ren's and fits their hips together in a startlingly intimate maneuver. One arm goes around Ren's waist, hand splayed on his back supportively, and the other hand's long bony fingers close around the young man's arm, drawing his sleeve up. "Missionary," he proclaims, pulling Ren's sleeve up to bare the crook of his elbow.

Serendipity is pleasantly pliable. Not to say limp -- not in any sense -- but he doesn't resist being moved about, and moved closer, in the slightest. One arm's spoken for, obviously; the other, no longer supporting him, slips up and over the arm about his waist, hand finding a resting place on the back of Tristan's shoulder. "Us'ally a good start t' things," he murmurs in agreement, watching the vampire.

Tristan glances down at where their hips are pressed together, eyebrows raised in amused surprise. "Usually I gotta wait till -after- the bite for that," he remarks, grinning. "Y'getting a head start." Lifting Ren's arm and bending his head, he nuzzles the inside of the elbow, his lips soft and cold. His eyes half close as he brushes his lips over the warm skin for a moment, like a whiskered animal--there's no tickle of breath, though. Then he opens his mouth, the fangs slide forth, long and tapering to a very slim, sharp point, and he sinks them slowly into Ren's flesh, piercing skin with a sharp flash of pain. The pain does not last. Tristan begins to drink, nursing gently from the wound, and the overwhelming pleasure of the Kiss surges into full.

Serendipity doesn't appear to be embarrassed by the observation -- especially not after the wince from the puncture-pain subsides and the drinking proper begins. His hand tightens on Tristan's shoulder, a rather startled gasp subsiding into a few soft, periodic little grunts. Mostly he's silent, though the breathing's decidedly more ragged, lips parted and eyes closed now. As it continues, his hips shift against the vampire's several times, entirely of their own accord.

Tristan spins it out in best fashion, not drawing but letting Ren's heart bring the blood to him. That supporting hand on Ren's back tightens and relaxes in a kneading caress. And, despite the vampire's claims, and indeed evidence, of asexuality, once Ren starts moving his hips, Tristan does too. In fact, he starts thrusting in counterpoint to Ren's movements, aiding the Kin in his pleasure.

Serendipity is definitely not an asexual creature. To no one's surprise. His heart pumps plenty of nice healthy blood through those veins, and it doesn't take a whole lot in the way of encouragement to get his body to respond rather enthusiastically in general. There may not be a whole lot of activity in the more advanced regions of the brain at present, but hell, don't they deserve a break now and then? He presses in closer against Tristan, letting his head drop forward to rest at the juncture of shoulder and neck there. There's a smattering of light, mindless kisses, and eventually a quite sudden bite, catching the skin between two sets of front teeth with a muffled groan. Not hard enough to break the skin, but quick and sharp. It's simultaneous with a definite hiccup in the rhythm that'd been established. Conclusions are close enough to be stepped on rather than jumped to.

Tristan hisses in a breath which he lets out in a delighted moan, at being bitten. He's quite a bit warmer, now, his skin taking on a more lively hue, becoming more supple. Pressing his hips firmly against Ren's, not moving now, just holding him, he withdraws his fangs and laves the pair of puncture wounds with a broad lick. The skin there is whole again after his tongue has passed, only the faintest of already-fading red marks for his signature. Tristan cradles Ren now where the Kin leans against him, turning his head to whisper in his ear, "That was sooo good. Damn, but you're hot," and nip lightly at his earlobe.

Serendipity laughs, scarcely audible puffs of air, and murmurs fervently, barely more than a breath itself, "...fucking =hell=." The nip puts a catch in his breath, sends a full-body shiver down his spine, and he runs his tongue over the faint marks his own teeth left, though his saliva doesn't do much in the way of healing, really. Neither does the little brush of lips across the spot, or the rather more ardent kiss he lifts and turns his head to apply to the fanged mouth before favouring Tristan with a slightly goofy grin. "'s incredible."

Tristan sure didn't expect that kiss; his eyes pop open wide with startlement before he applies himself vigorously to returning it. His mouth is soft, the still-extended fangs dangerous obstacles, and cooler than body temperature, with the faint coppery taste of blood lingering. He blinks dazedly at Ren. "Wow. Yer somethin, you know that? Just, wow." Obviously, he's impressed. "Y'okay, not feelin' faint?"

"Heh. So're you," Ren opines, staying right where he is for the time being. It appears to be a mutual impression. "...and I'm fuckin' fantastic. ...Maybe a little dizzy," he allows after a moment's consideration, "but fantastic."

Tristan looks a little... scared? Is that the right word for the look? He holds Ren, arms around him, bodies pressed together, and just looks at him, those muddled eyes of his still wide. After a moment he disengages from the clinch, although he keeps an arm around Ren's waist. "Okay, c'mere'n sit down," he says, guiding Ren to a seat. "Getcha some..." He casts his gaze over the library, a little at a loss, brightening when he sees the cart Higami has so thoughtfully left out for the library patrons' refreshment. "Some, somethin, getcher blood sugar up."

Serendipity meets Tristan's gaze (though his own eyes are still heavy-lidded) with a mix of continued interest, appreciation, and satisfaction... as temporary as that may be. He's not difficult to guide to the chair, due to the magic of cooperation, and he doesn't look inclined to turn down a snack, although he does assure the vampire offhandedly, "Don't look so worried. Figure it'll pass in a few minutes."

"Oh yeah, it will, just, takin' care a ya, s'only proper," Tristan replies, trotting across to the cart. He spends an entertaining few minutes carefully reading labels and eyeing the cupful of plastic spoons, muttering to himself things like, "'zat a tablespoon? th' dark'm I supposed to know?" Eventually, however, he manages to put together a hot cup of instant cider and a couple of cookies, which he brings over to Ren. "If the drink sucks, s'my fault, I dunno what the fuck a tablespoon is."

Serendipity =could= give advice, but it's much more fun to just watch and listen. Easier, too. It might not end up in the most drinkable cup of cider ever, but it's, well, cute... and hey, living on the edge, right? He takes the mug and peers at the contents with only a little wariness. No sign of excess powder, how bad can it be? "Thanks," he replies sincerely, and takes a bite of a cookie, then a swallow of the cider. Yeah, it'll do. "...so you don't eat things like cookies at all, either?"

Tristan folds himself down at Ren's feet, looking pretty satisfied himself, now. "Well, s'like sex. I -can-, but well, honestly, I think it's pretty gross. And I can't process it anyway, so I'd just have to hork it back up, and -that's- a laugh anna half. Back in the day, before the Dark, vampires used to do it kinda often, to pretend to be human." He shivers delicately. "Nasty."

Serendipity snirks, and gestures with the rest of his cookie, "Sounds like a chick I useta know. Except she was human. Ostensibly." He takes another bite and then clarifies, "...on the food thing, I mean. ...actually, kinda on the sex thing, too. ...she =was= really hot, though." Which, as everyone knows, makes up for a multitude of sins. At least for a while. "....cider's not bad, by the way. Thanks."

Tristan grins. "S'only polite," he says. "Yer welcome though. Hey, if I treat ya right, maybe you'll let me bite you again." He rubs Ren's knee affectionately.

Serendipity grins back, leaning forward in the chair, weight on his elbows, resting just above his knees. It lets him be slightly closer without having to give up the snacks. "Stranger things've happened," he agrees cheerfully, and gives the vampire a mischievous look, "...'spect we can work somethin' out."