(no subject)
TITLE: When Love Is Inside You
RATING: X-rated :)
FANDOMS: Pure Taniec Wampirow (Warsaw Production of Tanz der Vampire)
SUMMARY: After their flight, Sarah and Alfred return to very... warm welcomes at the castle ;) Poor, poor Alfred.
PAIRINGS: Herbert/Alfred
WORDS: 7735
WARNING: Dubious consent, bloodplay, bondage, fluff.
NOTES: Saw the Warsaw production. Newly-turned!Alfred crawling and hissing on the stage. Herbert being wicked and lecherous, with groping and mauling. And thus, this one-shot of pure Warsaw Vampires was born.
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The Boys
Bending to peer under the bed, his hands on his thighs, Herbert sighed with the patience of a saint. “Now, darling, you really are being quite silly about this.” He reached to tug the blanket aside and there was a hiss from under the bed.
Something clattered out from under the bed, bouncing over his boots, and Herbert raised a brow.
“Darling,” he said amiably, flipping the blanket over the bed. “The more you throw at me, the more room you leave under there for me to join you...”
Another hiss resounded and there was the scuffle of someone trying to move very quickly in a very confining space. With a chuckle, Herbert hopped up onto the bed, walking across the covers to the opposite side.
Peering over the edge, he saw the determined trouser-covered backside shuffling out awkwardly, upraised towards the admiring heavens.
Oh, how was he to resist?
Kneeling quickly, he bent and bit the firm little backside through the rough fabric.
The hiss was replaced by a squeal, and with a speed that caught Herbert quite by surprise, the squirming little body slid back under the bed. In an instant, the small, dark-haired figure scrambled out from beneath the opposite side of the bed and was fleeing towards the door.
His lips twitching, Herbert swung his legs off the bed and rose. Smoothing his shirt with one hand, he strolled around the end of the bed. The door slammed closed and he heard something rattling and crashing beyond it, something heavy falling against the thick panel of wood.
One arm crossed over his waist, the hand of the other touching his lips to smother a chuckle, Herbert walked towards the door. He could hear the determined sounds of a barricade being built on the other side to prevent him escaping.
A pity that in his haste, Alfred had not noticed a rather important detail.
Herbert waited until there was silence, then caught the heavy handle of the door, twisting it and stepping back swiftly. The door opened inwards. The barricade to stop it opening collapsed in the same direction. And across the ruins of his barrier, a helmet still clutched in his hands, Alfred’s eyes went round.
Clicking his tongue, Herbert shook his head with a smile. “Oh, darling...”
Lips pulled back from fangs in another hiss, which was really quite adorable, but Herbert’s chance to admire it was brief. Ducking quickly, he managed to avoid being struck by the ruthlessly-lobbed helmet, and when he rose, he could hear the patter of small feet racing away.
Oh, the little ruffian had stamina.
Discovering quite how much would be a delightful challenge to undertake.
Carefully stepping over the fallen suit of armour and overturned table, Herbert hopped lightly onto a clear patch of floor. It was a good thing father was distracted, he mused, or else he would have been rather put out to see how much dear little Alfred had dented his Missiglian armour.
Nudging a torn-down tapestry aside with his foot, he pursed his lips. It seemed that the games were to be put on hold for another day. Father would consider Alfred his responsibility and if father emerged from his little contented cocoon with that girl and found the castle in ruins...
Well, it would be unseemly to allow one’s playthings to run amuck.
So, the boy had to be caught and quite possibly restrained to protect any more of father’s possessions. Entirely for the benefit of the castle and father’s rather impressive collection of antiques.
As he started after the little creature, Herbert’s lips were shivering from the effort of repressing a smile. All for father, of course. No personal benefit at all.
Tilting his head, his rapid walk become a quick skip, he turned sharply and took the staircase three at a time. He could hear the hurried breathing of one not yet used to going without, echoing back at him, leaving a trail as clear as the boy’s scent.
He bit his lip as he hastily stepped into the shadows.
Unsurprisingly, Alfred had been forced to double back, the hallway a dead-end unless you knew where to look for the door. The pattering feet were scurrying along the stone, and as the boy came in line with him, Herbert swept the little ruffian up in his arms.
“There you are, darling!” he exclaimed as Alfred yelped aloud, pulled fast against Herbert’s chest. He planted a fond kiss on the boy’s cheek. “Now, about this silly running away...”
And then, somehow, the boy was loose again, diving between Herbert’s feet and running much faster than such a small person should be able to.
Blinking, Herbert looked down at his arms, uttering a sound of bemusement and annoyance. Apparently, the little darling was much slippery than he looked. While a multitude had attempted the limp-body approach, very few had done it so deftly that he had actually dropped them.
Flexing his fingers, he turned and looked down the staircase.
At the foot, Alfred glanced back and Herbert could swear he heard a muted hiss.
“Oh, darling, you are such a tease,” he purred, launching himself in pursuit.
Apparently, pure panic had given Alfred a sharper turn of speed, and while he knew little of the castle, he seemed to be finding his way around most remarkably, heading for the larger rooms.
In one of the moonlight-filled drawing rooms, Herbert halted, looking around. In the shadows, there was no sign of the darling and it sounded like Alfred had realised that holding his breath was an option.
Heavy drapes lined the windows, grand chaises upon the floor, and all was still and dark, the only sign of Alfred’s presence the faint footprints in the light dust that had gathered.
Proceeding, ears attuned to the least sound, his own footfalls silent, Herbert saw a flicker of motion at the far end of the chamber and started to run, only to realise his mistake as his foot caught on something and he tripped headlong.
First caught on the boot that Alfred had left, then over a small, decorative table, he fell gracelessly, the ornamental clock sliding off the table and landing squarely on his stomach, winding him, and he heard an exclamation of triumph.
Oh, the little darling was cunning too!
As Alfred doubled back, leaping over him to race for the door, Herbert snared his ankle, bringing the boy down with a crash. Alfred exclaimed something that could only be rude, kicked out and wriggled free again, leaving a sock in Herbert’s grip.
Sitting on the floor, Herbert held the sock up to the light, pursing his lips.
“That wasn’t very nice, darling!” he called out, getting to his feet and tucking the liberated sock into the waistband of his trousers. In the hall, he heard what sounded like a pleased giggle. So, the little angel thought he would put the pursuit off with such little tricks? He smiled slowly. More fool him, then.
Looking out into the hall, he watched the small shadow darting towards one of the grand staircases and his smile widened. Casually wandering towards one of the columns that lined the room, he touched a point on the wall, which opened to reveal a narrow staircase.
Stepping into the opening, he pulled the panel shut behind him, running lightly down the stairs, fingertips braced against the cool stone.
Emerging on the lower level, he took his time to adjust the tapestry that hid the doorway, tilting his head with a slow grin as he heard the approaching pattering of bare feet on the stone floor.
Between the columns of the portrait gallery, he could see Alfred running rapidly in his direction. The boy was looking behind him, nervous, as if anticipating his hunter and he was panting softly.
Deliberately stepping out into the light, Herbert leaned against one of the columns and folded his arms over his chest, lips curving upwards. Crossing one leg before the other, he tapped his toe lightly on the floor and waited patiently.
Oblivious to Herbert’s presence, Alfred slowed his pace. He turned to keep his eyes on the only entrance he was aware of, retreating more slowly across the room between the towering pillars, watching warily for Herbert’s approach.
Lifting one hand to idly nibble on a nail, Herbert uncrossed his legs. He straightened up, lifting his other hand to smooth his hair, then adjusted the ruffles of his shirt as Alfred continued to back towards him.
The boy was a mere pace from him, shivering. Herbert stepped forward smoothly and silently. Grabbing Alfred’s backside, he beamed as the boy’s eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. Those dark eyes slid sideways, the boy’s little body rigid with shock.
“Hello, cheri,” Herbert crooned, turning the boy’s startled face to him and leaning closer.
That seemed to break through the shock and Alfred hissed and spun away, only for Herbert to snare his wrist. His leg swept out, catching the boy’s ankle with his own and Alfred yelled in dismay as he fell.
Swinging himself down over the boy, pinning him with his own weight, Herbert beamed at him. “Isn’t this delightful, darling?” he said, clasping his hands together before him. “Moonlight, privacy, romance, that delightful backside of yours...”
Alfred, it seemed, did not think so.
Squirming and wriggling, he managed to twist onto his belly, clawing at one of the pillars, trying to pull himself free. His legs thrashed, his energetic little body arching and struggling beautifully.
For a moment, sitting neatly atop the boy’s tensed and quivering backside, his own hands pressing to his chest with glee, Herbert could only watch Alfred’s struggles in rapt delight.
Of course, there was only so far that watching could take you.
Dropping his hands to the boy’s waist, he caught the fabric of Alfred’s shirt and tugged it free of his trousers, hoisting it up. And oh, if the boy’s backside was a work of art, his back was equally so.
“Oh, darling!” Herbert exclaimed, leaning down and warmly kissing the boy’s spine. “You are perfection.”
With a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a hiss, Alfred started to thrash in earnest. He twisted every which way, hips twitching, spine arcing, snarling and jerking against Herbert’s hands which were just as eagerly pinning him down.
Forced onto his back, his whole body arched beneath Herbert’s. Herbert bit the insides of his grinning lips as Alfred’s tense little body rubbed against his in ways the boy was probably not even aware of.
Hooked fingers tried to lash out at him and he laughed, catching thin wrists and forcing those small hands down. Spreading Alfred’s arms in a mock embrace, pinning his hands to the floor beneath them, Herbert leaned down over him, smiling.
“Darling, you’re wearing yourself out,” he murmured chastisingly.
Panting raggedly, his chest rising and falling rapidly, Alfred’s lips peeled back from his fangs. Every hiss was breathless now, his dark eyes flashing, and under Herbert’s hands, his arms were tensed, his shoulders arching tautly from the floor.
Pouting sweetly, Herbert managed to hide his smile. “All I wanted was to be friends, Alfred,” he cooed. “And look how cruel you have been!”
The derisive hiss said it all and Alfred tried in vain to squirm free again.
Easily restraining him, Herbert tilted his head, smiling patiently, one brow arched in silent challenge. After several minutes, Alfred sagged beneath him, growling quietly, more weakly, his arms still rigid and fingers curling and uncurling angrily.
One side of his mouth lifting, Herbert leaned down and gazed into the fierce, flashing brown eyes. “You really don’t know what you have been missing, my pretty darling,” he murmured, then rolled his hips sensually.
Eyes that had been narrowed with ire suddenly went wide and Alfred whimpered, his fingers twitching.
Repeating the motion, a leisurely cant to his hips, Herbert pressed his tongue to his fangs, drawing a pleasant breath at the warmth the friction sent through him. He felt Alfred’s shudder and a response that was far from negative beneath him.
The boy’s body was quivering more intensely and his head had fallen back against the polished floor, wide eyes staring at the ceiling.
Smiling, Herbert brushed his lips against the upturned cheeks, nose, lashes and lastly to his lips and felt the half-hearted hiss that gave way to a kiss that was so utterly and sinfully sweet, a virginal vampire’s flavour.
Then Alfred bit him.
Sitting up sharply, blood dripping from his lip, Herbert blinked in surprise.
Fangs bloodied, Alfred hissed again. His squirming began afresh, but there was a movement to it that hadn’t been there before and was rapidly making Herbert go cross-eyed. He was grinning at the sensation and at the realisation. Oh, the darling learned quickly.
His grip on Alfred’s wrists loosened, feigned freedom, and like quicksilver, Alfred had bucked his hips, wriggled his thighs and skidded free on the polished floor, leaving Herbert kneeling and dazed by the absence of pleasant pressure.
Oh, let him believe he was free.
Chasing him down and seeing how wild he could be would be all the more fun.
Using a pillar to haul himself upright, Alfred stared wildly at him, hissing rapidly, but it seemed the boy wasn’t quite capable of running yet, let alone walking, his body bent and tense, eyes dark and lips quivering.
Oh-ho...
Bracing his fingertips against the floor, Herbert slowly started to grin, shifting his weight. He saw the awareness in Alfred’s eyes, saw the wild flicker of those dark eyes and when he started to move, so did the boy.
Half-staggering, Alfred was halfway across the gallery, skidding and slipping on the polished stone as he was hit from behind by enthusiastically-sprinting vampire, both of them spinning to a halt in the doorway.
This time, Herbert had decided as he had launched himself at the boy, there would be no mercy. This time, when he brought his mouth down against that snapping, hissing, biting one, he would enjoy it.
He felt Alfred growl against his lips and felt fangs gnashing at him, small hands thrashing wildly at him. Catching both narrow wrists in one hand, he forced Alfred onto his back, pinning those vicious little hands over the boy’s head.
Breaking away from the kiss, he smiled bloodily down at Alfred as his other hand slid under the loose shirt and he felt the boy shudder as his hands smoothed down the flat little belly, every muscle twitching delightfully.
Trying to twist away, Alfred snapped his fangs and yelped in protest when Herbert twisted his own body, pinning Alfred’s legs down.
“Oh, do stop making such a fuss, my darling,” he said, kissing the tip of Alfred’s nose fondly. His other hand patiently unfastened the buttons of Alfred’s trousers and he could feel the boy shivering. “You’ll enjoy it more.”
Brown eyes stared at him and Alfred shook his head wildly, no longer struggling, but rigid, his body arched and tense.
With a smile and a nod, Herbert lowered his head and softly kissed the boy’s throat, where the bite was still crusted with blood. His fangs scraped the wound and he heard the faint whine, tasted the fresh blood.
When he slipped his hand inside Alfred’s trousers, the whine intensified, and as his fingers moved he heard the instant it changed in intonation, felt the shudder run through Alfred’s wire-taut little body.
No one could ever say he wasn’t generous.
Or selfish for that matter.
While indulging the little darling in the ways of pleasure was all well and good, it wasn’t quite all for the boy’s benefit. After all, the wanton sounds he made, the way he writhed, the little panting moans...
Well, one would have to be insensible to ignore them.
Pulling the quivering angel into his welcoming arms, Herbert kissed him deeply, deliberately, slowly. An attempt at a sharp bite was smothered by Herbert’s insistent mouth and a warning nip from his own fangs.
And yet, drawing resistance from somewhere, Alfred could still struggle. On the polished floor, he skittered and writhed, shying from Herbert’s kisses, growling and kicking out futilely. That, Herbert would happily have indulged, but when a suddenly-free hand clenched in his hair and yanked mercilessly... oh, that was too far.
Grabbing the boy’s wrists again, Herbert tossed his head, lips pulling back from his teeth in a petulant hiss. “None of that!” he growled, tightening his grip until Alfred froze in pained surprise, staring warily at him. Herbert rose swiftly and dragged the weakly kicking Alfred back into the gallery by his arms.
Apparently, his show of temper had startled Alfred into something akin to brief submission. While that was mildly disappointing, he expected the little darling to start struggling again in minutes, so the moment was all he had to ensure those grasping little hands were otherwise occupied.
Throwing Alfred ruthlessly back against one of the columns, he pressed himself against the wide-eyed boy, felt the hiss against his lips, but it was too late for the boy to start struggling now. His tongue teasingly explored Alfred’s innocent little mouth as his hands slid along Alfred’s arms, his grip steely.
By and by, Alfred’s growls and whimpers gave way to softer and more pleasant sounds. Lapping at Alfred’s fangs and the tip of his tongue, nibbling on the soft lips, Herbert smiled. And his hands moved suddenly.
The growls returned full force as Alfred felt his arms pulled tight behind him, around the column he was pressed against. Pulling the overly long woollen sock taut around the boy’s wrists, Herbert sat back on his heels with a pleased smile.
“That’s better, isn’t it, darling?” he purred, leaning in to kiss those hissing lips again, biting the fuller lower one delicately. “Now, cheri, if you would only stop making such a fuss, you would quite enjoy this...”
Jerking his arms so hard that he almost did himself an injury and arching his back away from the column, Alfred squirmed against his woollen bonds, fangs bared and eyes flashing.
Herbert bounced where he sat, unable to stifle the gleeful sound rising in his throat, his hands pressing to his lips in delight. Oh, what did father see in the silly girl? This one was far more lovely.
“Oh, darling, you are wonderful!” he exclaimed, reaching out and clasping the boy’s face between his hands, kissing him hard.
Pressing him forcefully back against the pillar, his hands slid down the boy’s throat, ripping the front of his shirt open mercilessly. He drew the coarse clothing aside, slipping it down the boy’s arms, then his lips moved, roaming, tasting every inch of that lovely, pale scholar’s skin.
Quavering whimpers escaped Alfred through those determinedly clenched fangs, the tension in his body almost as delightful under Herbert’s lips as the taste of the boy’s unblemished skin was. There were freckles on his shoulders and Herbert kissed every one of them.
With his hands now free to wander, Herbert let his fingers nimbly finish undoing the boy’s trousers as his mouth travelled over Alfred’s pale chest. His hand slipped between fabric and flesh and he uttered a sigh of pure pleasure against Alfred’s rapidly rising and falling chest.
A fresh tremor shot through the boy and Herbert smiled against his sternum, then kissed his belly, his hips, then lower and Alfred cried out and shivered for another reason entirely.
On either side of Herbert’s hips, Alfred’s feet slipped against the polished floor, aiming to kick but missing completely. His hips lifted and jolted, but his besocked foot slipped and brought him down hard, making him whine. He tried to bring his slender limbs together and Herbert chuckled low in his throat, making Alfred moan.
Bracing his palms against those tensing thighs, Herbert forced them further apart, sinking down between them and lavishing all his skill upon the quivering mass that was the young vampire.
Only when Alfred sagged limply against his sock bindings, panting weakly and dipping forward, did Herbert delicately kiss his belly, then tilt his head up and bring their lips together again. All the fight had been cheerfully drained from the boy by Herbert’s talented mouth, it seemed, as this kiss was met with parted lips and no more than token resistance.
Sliding his hands up Alfred’s thighs, Herbert pushed him back against the pillar with his own body, kissing him deeply, enjoying the faint, weary whimpers that tripped between their lips.
Drawing back barely a hair’s breadth, Alfred’s breath rapid against his parted lips, Herbert stroked his tongue across his fangs, then more gently laid his mouth against Alfred’s again. Alfred whined in quiet protest, then shuddered, inhaling sharply.
With a half-nod of confirmation, Herbert cupped the boy’s chin lightly, felt Alfred dart his tongue between their lips, felt the brush of that tentative tongue against his own, tasting his blood. A few laps gave way to a hungry moan. Alfred tugged against the bonds holding him, arching up into Herbert’s kiss with a plaintive sound, sucking greedily at lips and tongue.
Slipping one arm between Alfred’s arched back and the pillar, Herbert’s other hand deftly freed Alfred’s wrists. It took less than a moment for Alfred to realise it, then small hands were clutching wildly at Herbert’s shoulders and sinking into his hair, Alfred’s voracious mouth hungrily ravaging Herbert’s.
Shifting his weight back, Herbert lowered to boy to the floor gently, drawing his lips away from Alfred’s. He touched the boy’s blood-rouged lips lightly, felt the whine of protest against his fingertips and smiled, the tip of his tongue smoothing his own lip.
“Now, isn’t that better, darling?” he purred, licking a fingertip and gently wiping a smear of blood from the corner of Alfred’s lips.
His lips shivering, Alfred’s eyes glittered. “More,” he whispered into a panted growl.
Herbert’s lips twitched irrepressibly. “Oh,” he sighed, swooping down over the boy and kissing him hard, hard enough to gash both their lips, blood mingling into the kiss. Licking Alfred’s upper lip, he sucked lightly on the lower and purred, “Since you asked so nicely.”
Perhaps it wasn’t entirely what Alfred meant, but with a casual tug, Alfred’s trousers were torn off and flung overhead and Herbert pinned him upon the floor again, kissing him as he snared the boy’s hips, pressing his own body against Alfred’s.
Eyes widening, blood lust vying against what little control he had left, Alfred went rigid, hands tensing on Herbert’s shoulders. The tip of his tongue, pink and bloody, was visible between his fangs and he stifled a gasping whine.
Kissing Alfred’s lips, then his cheek and his lovely throat, Herbert crooned a happy sound. “Oh, darling, don’t fight anymore,” he whispered, slipping a hand between their bodies to undo his own trousers. He felt Alfred tremble and gently nibbled on his throat. “Don’t you know how I adore you?”
The small hands quivered on his shoulders. “D-don’t,” Alfred gasped out, his eyes widening even more as Herbert’s hands shaped the curve of his backside, both index fingers lightly caressing the crease between his buttocks. “Oh!”
Lavishing tender attention on Alfred’s bitten throat, Herbert smiled happily. “Oh, darling, you really shouldn’t be so worried,” he murmured, dragging his tongue up the pale arched neck. Sucking lightly on Alfred’s earlobe, he sighed pleasantly, rolling his hips. “I could show you the heights of pleasure...” He traced the shell of Alfred’s ear with his lips, barely a touch, so soft. “The depths of desire, my beautiful darling...”
Slowly, gently, he let his fangs cut into Alfred’s throat and felt the younger vampire arch against him. The hands that had been pushing him away suddenly clutched at him and when his body slid intimately against Alfred’s, Alfred moaned and clung to him all the more fiercely.
Lapping the fresh bites, Herbert trailed his lips to the unmarred side of Alfred’s throat, dragging the remains of his tie aside with his fangs. “You truly have no idea how lovely you are, my darling,” he crooned.
One hand slid up Alfred’s back, ghosting over bare skin, then over the rumpled shirt to tangle in Alfred’s hair as he kissed and nibbled the young vampire’s bared throat and felt Alfred shiver with suppressed want.
“Give in, my darling...” he whispered. “If this is but a drop in the ocean, imagine all that I can make you feel...” His hips twitched, almost sinking into the boy, but not quite, making Alfred jerk in his arms. “I can make you soar...”
Pressing his head back against the floor, Alfred’s fingers were tugging and kneading at his shoulders sporadically, his breathing growing even more ragged. Faint whimpers were escaping him, his feet straining against the floor, lifting his hips ineffectually away from Herbert’s.
With a low, rolling growl that made Alfred quiver against him, Herbert’s lips drew back from his fangs and he hissed against Alfred’s throat. Fingers bit against his shoulders and he heard the rapid panting against his ear.
And as his fangs sank into Alfred’s unmarked skin, he sheathed himself entirely within the boy’s tight, tender body with a swiftness that drove Alfred several inches across the polished floor. Alfred arched, taut as a wire, trembling with a silent scream that might have been agony or ecstasy or the most exquisite of combinations of both.
Throwing his head back with a hiss of satisfaction, Herbert bared his fangs at the high ceiling, blood streaming down his chin.
And beneath him, he heard Alfred utter a faint, shivering sob.
Shaking his hair back from his cheeks, Herbert pouted, lowering his head to nuzzle Alfred’s bloody throat. “Oh, don’t be so silly, darling,” he said, nudging his nose against Alfred’s chin. He licked a shimmering tear from Alfred’s cheek. “It only hurts a little bit.” He shifted his hips just slightly and felt Alfred’s chest rise sharply with an indrawn breath. “And see? Isn’t it nice?”
Dark eyes stared dazedly at him, glassy with pain and shock, and he felt Alfred’s little fingers so tense in the ruffles of his shirt. His lips were parted, trembling, crystal-bright tears clinging to the darling creature’s dark lashes.
Jutting out his lower lip, Herbert gazed down at him. “Oh, now, stop that,” he protested, bringing up a hand to gently touch Alfred’s lips, then lowered his mouth to kiss the darling boy’s softly.
Brushing a fingertip between their lips, Herbert lifted his head and watched the boy’s face thoughtfully. Pressing a finger against Alfred’s tongue, he shifted his body just a little and felt the whimper against his finger.
Still attending on the pain, was he? The silly darling.
Tilting his finger a bit, Herbert smiled broadly as he felt Alfred’s fang rake across the tip. He saw the dark eyes flare with want and felt that lovely pouting mouth suck sharply, hungrily, pain forgotten if only for a moment.
And that was what Herbert wanted; to see that insatiable hunger in those pretty, flashing, fire-filled eyes.
“That’s what you like, isn’t it, my darling?” he whispered, stroking his gashed finger against Alfred’s tongue with the same leisurely motion as he rolled his hips against the younger vampire’s body.
The whine merged into a moan and Alfred arched his pretty little neck, blunt teeth biting down on Herbert’s finger. Not painful, but enough to make Herbert bite on his lower lip as his hips shivered. Oh, what an enticing little bundle!
“Yes, my darling,” Herbert whispered, lowering his lips to that exquisite throat and kissing the bleeding bite gently. “Enjoy it...” He drew a hissing breath between his teeth as Alfred’s greedy little mouth began to suck in earnest, imagining all manner of wicked uses for that tongue and those pink lips. “Oh... yes...”
Quite when his lazy thrusts started to match the draw of those teasing lips, he could not be sure, lost in the pleasant sensation. Sliding a second finger into Alfred’s mouth, he felt the wanton bite and the blood well and shuddered pleasantly.
“Oh, my darling...” he moaned, arching his own neck back. His lashes fluttered against his cheekbones as that tongue curled mercilessly around his bloodied fingers and those cupid’s lips moved so beautifully. “Oh...”
And his mouth came down against Alfred’s throat once more. They arched in perfect harmony as he bit hungrily and deep, an arm slipping beneath Alfred’s back. Holding him close, blood flowed between them as he stroked deeper and harder, Alfred’s soft moans were echoed by his own.
Withdrawing his fangs, lips and teeth bloodied and wet, Herbert tilted his head to kiss Alfred’s still-sucking, panting lips, claiming them and liberating bloody fingers gently. His tongue lapped the hungry little mouth, tasting his own blood, letting Alfred’s mingle with it, then he kissed Alfred, slowly, tenderly.
That was when he felt one of Alfred’s hands touching him so shyly and, into the kiss, he smiled happily.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Alfred had been sleeping peacefully.
Of course, he had been sleeping peacefully until he woke up with a jolt. At that point, the nightmare of only a couple of nights ago had seemed like a nice dream by comparison to the flurry of memories that swept over him.
Staring blindly into the darkness around him, Alfred shivered. Maybe that had been a bad dream too. After all, he seemed to be having a lot of them lately and the sight of Sarah being bitten by his Excellency...
A sleepy sigh made already wide eyes grow that little bit larger.
Maybe the first thing he could have considered was just where he was! And more especially, just who was sleepily sighing. And, he noticed belatedly, who had arms wrapped snugly around his torso.
Trying to squirm backwards out of the gripping arms, he collided with a solid barrier of cool stone, the bottom of which was lined with plump pillows. His fingertips tentatively explored the surface, but found no evidence of what it might be.
Looking in the direction that seemed to be upwards, he saw a thin line of pale light and followed it with his eyes. It formed a perfect rectangle of proportions that seemed to be remarkably familiar.
A second sleepy mumble escaped whoever it was that was still clutching at him and he felt the person shifting closer and felt a mouth against his neck, a not completely unpleasant sensation running through him when his neck was lightly sucked at.
Haltingly, he brought one hand over to touch his assailant, biting on his lower lip, and hoping wildly that he would encounter wild, curly hair. Hair that would be dark and thick and...
...definitely not as soft and silky as the hair slipping between his fingers.
“Mmm...” A cool cheek tilted against his hand and he felt a drowsy half-yawned kiss press to his palm.
Jerking his hand back, as if burnt, Alfred uttered a faint squeak of dismay. Oh... oh, no. Not him. Not him and not here.
Fingers stroked along his side lightly. Alfred’s eyes went wide as he felt a fabric far softer than anything he was used to slipping against his skin. That only made him more aware of the distinct lack of any such fabric against his legs.
One foot still had a lonely sock on it, though. The heavy, knee-length woollen thing had clumped around his ankle, but his other foot was bare. His boots... his other sock... his clothing...
Against his chest, he felt the ruffles of a shirt that belonged to another, though the wandering hand had refrained from slipping beneath it. Even so, the fingers were resting unsettlingly close to the point were fabric gave way to flesh.
Beside Alfred, he seemed to have fallen back into whatever it was vampires did that counted for sleep. Holding his breath without even realising it, Alfred gingerly lifted that hand from his upper thigh.
As he laid it cautiously between their bodies, his fingers skimmed the fingertips and felt rough wounds. For a moment, he wondered what someone like the Graf’s son could have been doing to receive such oddly-placed injuries.
Then he remembered.
Colour blazed in his cheeks at the recollection that made him scramble upright far faster than he intended. His head cracked off the lid of what he realised had to be the son of the Graf’s sarcophagus.
Oh...
As if things hadn’t been dreadful before!
With fumbling hands, bent near double, he found a narrow groove at the edge of the surface above him and managed to push the lid open a little. The light cracked in, the warm and flickering glow from candles, and he tugged and pushed the lid open until there was a gap wide enough for him to squeeze out of.
Clumsily, he hauled himself over the edge, tumbling and landing in a heap on the floor of the crypt at the foot of the sarcophagus. The stone was cold and hard on his backside, and a glance down at the shirt he had clearly been forced into told him that the Graf’s son certainly didn’t dress for warmth.
Exuberant aqua-blue ruffles flowed from his shoulders down to his thighs, the fabric of the shirt gaping wide over his chest, and Alfred yelped in dismay at the sight of a bite on the middle of his chest. He clapped his hands over it, then remembered his throat. Too few hands!
A giggle slammed him back against the end of the stone tomb, wide eyes staring around the crypt.
Several feet away, a wooden coffin had started to open and he saw bright eyes looking out at him. The lid was thrown back and a familiar blonde woman beamed at him by the flickering light.
“If it isn’t the Professor’s little boy!”
“M-Magda?” His voice was trembling far more than he would like. “But you... you’re dead...”
Stretching her arms over her head, her nightshirt riding in ways that made his eyes drag downwards, the woman grinned, showing fangs. “Aren’t we all?” she said, then laughed and scratched her fingers through her hair.
Clutching the shirt closed over his chest, Alfred managed to get upright on legs that felt far too shaky. The oversized piece of clothing covered him to the knees, but he had never felt smaller and more helpless than he did in that moment, his single sock tangled around his ankle.
The woman’s eyes remained on him, he noticed, even when he tried to edge sideways along the sarcophagus and out of sight and her grin just kept getting wider and wider. Reaching down into the coffin she occupied, she prodded something.
“Look here, you lazy old goat...”
A grunt from the coffin preceded the drowsy head of Sarah’s father.
“Chagal!” Alfred squeaked, wishing he could hide better behind the sarcophagus. His legs were feeling very exposed and the draught was lifting the back of the shirt in a way that made him even more aware of the lack of clothing beneath.
Rubbing his eyes, the innkeeper yawned widely, squinting sleepily around him. “What is it?” he grumbled, then seemed to notice Alfred pressing back against the stone sarcophagus, his mouth curling up. “Oh ho! So the Professor didn’t teach you well enough, hey?”
Defiantly, Alfred felt his lips pull back from his teeth in a hiss, then he gasped in embarrassment at such a reaction, clapping a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide.
Of course, by moving his hand, the shirt over his chest gaped open mercilessly and he saw Magda’s eyes dip downwards. How was it possible for someone to grin so much without their face cracking?
Leaning one arm on the edge of his coffin, Chagal was laughing as coarsely as the woman was. “A vampire blushing?” He waved a finger at Alfred. “You’ll learn better, boy. You suck the blood...”
“Or other things!” Magda burst out laughing as she climbed out of the coffin. Chagal grinned broadly, slapping her firmly on the backside.
Alfred wondered if he was imagining the heat burning in his cheeks. “I-I...”
“Oh, don’t worry, little one,” she crooned, adjusting her nightdress in a way that made him goggle at her. Sauntering towards him, she smoothed the fabric down even more. “You’ll soon get used to it.” Two cool fingertips touched the middle of his chest and he shied back, colliding with the stone. Those fingertips walked up his chest, her grin close to his face. “After all, you’re one of us now...”
His hands flapped hopelessly several inches from hers. “Don’t...”
Her lips puckered in a pout. “You don’t want to touch me, little Alfred?” she said, eyes large. Suddenly, she caught his hands and pressed them to the barely-covered expanse of her chest that had seemed to interesting only days before. Alfred yelped and pulled his hands back as Magda and Chagal howled with laughter. “See, Chagal! you had no need to fear for your daughter with this one!”
The clomp of Chagal’s boots on the floor of the crypt indicated that he had climbed out of the coffin to and was approaching. “He is too pretty for his own good, isn’t he?” he said, giving Alfred’s shirt a casual tug.
“Pretty enough for someone to take a bite...” Magda’s mouth was close and he could see the gleaming fangs. “Pity...” Her hands were wandering and he was backed up against the tomb with no way to squeeze passed them.
Clutching at the ends of the shirt, Alfred tried to hold it down, but four hands outnumbered two and despite protests and squirming, he felt the fabric hauled up and heard Chagal’s coarsely laughed exclamation. “He had a bite right on his tokhis!”
Alfred whimpered, closing his hands over his face, which he knew had to be scarlet.
Just when he’d thought things couldn’t get any worse.
“And who has been nibbling on your backside, little Alfred?” Magda chortled. “It is a fine sight, after a...”
The sudden silence and the absence of hands made Alfred blinked behind his hands and he dared to peek between his fingers. Both the vampires had shied away from him and were staring at someone behind him, trepidation on their faces.
From above, fingertips lightly combed through his hair and Alfred went rigid. He slowly looked over his shoulder, a faint sound escaping him at the sight of the Graf’s son. The pale-haired vampire’s arm was resting on the edge of the tomb, his chin propped on his arm, while his other hand continued to lightly stroke Alfred’s hair.
“Darling, if you would like me to toss these two out into daylight,” he murmured, his voice soft with sleepiness, his grey-green eyes drowsily fixed on Chagal and Magda. “I am sure I could oblige.”
The two vampires pressed together fearfully, which made Alfred stare almost as much as the fingertip running in circles on the back of his neck. Surely, they were vampires as well, but the Graf’s son seemed to control them with a word.
“N-no,” he stammered, moving to step away from the sarcophagus, but the Graf’s son was quicker and the hand slid around before his chest, drawing him back against the end of the sarcophagus. “I-I... it... they were... they meant no harm...” He drew a sharp breath as lips touched his throat, his eyes wide. “Oh...”
If he looked startled, though, it was nothing compared to Magda and Chagal.
“We didn’t know he was yours,” Chagal said, bowing with all the excessive humility and apology he could manage, hands raised and head bobbing. “My apologies, your Excellency...”
Alfred’s breath quivered over his lips as a tongue dragged up his throat and the mouth caught his earlobe, sucking on it lightly. “Do you hear that, my darling?” The whispered breath made him tremble as much as the contact of flesh to flesh. “You’re mine now.”
“I-I... I’m Sarah’s...” Alfred protested weakly. “She... she bit me...”
“Oh, you silly little angel,” the Graf’s son whispered against his ear. “Anyone can bite someone. Take our two little friends here as examples...” Alfred’s throat was kissed again, making him shiver. “I did something far more significant.”
Whirling away, Alfred barely got a pace before he was pulled back towards the sarcophagus, his new position meaning he was facing the Graf’s son, who smiled brightly at him. “You really are a silly little thing, aren’t you?”
And then the Graf’s son had a hand in his hair and the arm around his waist had pulled him inches off the ground against the end of the tomb as he was thoroughly kissed. His hands clutched wildly at the vampire’s shoulders, but whether trying to force him away or pull him closer, he couldn’t be sure.
Only when the Graf’s son chose to free his lips did he become aware that their audience had doubled, and he squirmed weakly in the fair vampire’s arms, trying to reach the floor.
Beyond the second sarcophagus, Sarah was staring at him, a hand over her mouth, but closer than that, the Graf was gazing at them. The dark eyes snared his and his whimpers and struggles faded to silence, his hands trembling on the fair-haired vampire’s shoulders.
“Don’t scare him, father,” the vampire holding him said, laughing. He warmly kissed Alfred’s forehead. “He is lovely!”
“And more than a little destructive,” the Graf said quietly, a chastising note in his words.
Alfred flinched from the disapproval in his Excellency’s voice, hiding his face behind a hand. One of his fingers was nipped on, and he yelped in surprise and saw the grey-green eyes dancing.
“I shall tie him up better next time,” the younger vampire said happily.
“Next time?” Alfred’s voice emerged as an indignant squeal. “I-I... no! Sarah!” He turned a wild look on the girl. Now that her hand had fallen away, he could see that she was laughing. He squirmed and wriggled, which only made the fair vampire giggle and cling to him more affectionately. “I-I... I love Sarah!”
Abruptly, he was dropped, landing on his tailbone on the floor. He managed to scramble onto his feet, rubbing his offended backside and warily looking between the Graf and his son.
The Graf’s son swung his legs over the end of the sarcophagus as well, sitting on the end for a moment before dropping down lightly onto his toes. “That’s as may be, my pretty little darling,” he said cheerfully. “But we all make silly mistakes now and then, especially regarding girls.”
“Herbert,” the Graf murmured.
A charming smile was turned in the direction of the Graf, who was lightly stepping down from his own sarcophagus. “Oh, father, you know I only tease,” the fair-haired vampire beamed.
In that moment, Alfred tried to dart passed both elder vampires to Sarah, but a dark-clothed arm caught him lightly and he froze, eyes slipping sideways to see the Graf gazing at him with the suggestion of a smile barely visible but in his eyes.
“You may be hers, good Alfred,” he said softly. “But for now, she is mine.” He was drawn gently back and the Graf looked towards his son. Arms twined around Alfred from behind and he felt the son’s cheek press against his hair. “Herbert would like to spend time with you now.”
“So that’s what they call it now, hey?” Chagal muttered with a snicker that made Alfred blush even more deeply, but the blush was forgotten as the Graf growled low in his throat, dark eyes flashing. Chagal made a strange sound that was laced with sharp fear. “My apologies your Excellency!”
A subtle nod of the Graf’s head induced the hasty flight of Chagal, judging by the clattering boots, and Magda, judging by the shrill nervous giggle, then the dark eyes returned to Alfred and the suggestion of a smile was there once more.
“You will entertain Herbert,” the Graf said softly, lifting Alfred’s chin with one hand. Behind him, the son made a pleased sound and kissed Alfred warmly on the throat. “I am sure you will find him pleasant company.”
“But Sarah...”
The Graf unfurled one arm, his cloak billowing about him, and he drew Sarah in with nothing more than a gesture. “Sarah will find you,” he said softly. He turned a gentleman’s smile on the girl. “My dear?”
“I will,” she promised, then leaned closer and kissed Alfred chastely on the lips, her eyes going wide. She licked her finger, then looked at the Graf’s son, who uttered a mischievous giggle. “What have you...?”
The arms tightened around Alfred’s waist and he was sure he could almost hear the older vampire purring happily. “You left him on his own,” he sighed, sounding almost lamentable. “I had to... distract him.”
“No! No, you didn’t! You really, really didn’t!” Alfred squeaked, feeling colour rise in his cheeks as the Graf’s son’s hands slowly started to draw the shirt up his thighs. “I-I told him not to!”
Sarah was staring at him. “You and he...”
“Him!” Alfred exclaimed. “It was him! I ran away! A lot!”
“Oh, you enjoyed it, darling,” the son giggled and kissed his neck. “Anyway.” He was apparently looking at Sarah. “You were occupied with my father.” Alfred felt Herbert sticking his tongue out. “Your loss.”
Sarah started to hiss, but was silenced by a soft chuckle from the Graf.
“Perhaps, this can wait for another day, Herbert,” he chastised gently, long, elegant fingers turning Sarah’s face towards his. “We have far better things to be doing than arguing semantics.”
Alfred saw the petulant scowl fading from Sarah’s face a moment before the Graf drew his cloak around her and they both faded into nothing.
Alfred sagged in Herbert’s arms, his hands dropping limply by his sides. “But I love her...” he mumbled to no one in particular.
“And I,” Herbert crooned, thrusting a hand under Alfred’s shirt and wrapping a hand around him in a way that made something else rise more prominently in his thoughts. “Love you, my darling.”
He was whirled about to face Herbert, the vampire who had bothered to pay him attention while he was left alone. He saw the happy smile on the cheerful lips of the vampire and this time, when he was kissed, he kissed back.
RATING: X-rated :)
FANDOMS: Pure Taniec Wampirow (Warsaw Production of Tanz der Vampire)
SUMMARY: After their flight, Sarah and Alfred return to very... warm welcomes at the castle ;) Poor, poor Alfred.
PAIRINGS: Herbert/Alfred
WORDS: 7735
WARNING: Dubious consent, bloodplay, bondage, fluff.
NOTES: Saw the Warsaw production. Newly-turned!Alfred crawling and hissing on the stage. Herbert being wicked and lecherous, with groping and mauling. And thus, this one-shot of pure Warsaw Vampires was born.
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The Boys
Bending to peer under the bed, his hands on his thighs, Herbert sighed with the patience of a saint. “Now, darling, you really are being quite silly about this.” He reached to tug the blanket aside and there was a hiss from under the bed.
Something clattered out from under the bed, bouncing over his boots, and Herbert raised a brow.
“Darling,” he said amiably, flipping the blanket over the bed. “The more you throw at me, the more room you leave under there for me to join you...”
Another hiss resounded and there was the scuffle of someone trying to move very quickly in a very confining space. With a chuckle, Herbert hopped up onto the bed, walking across the covers to the opposite side.
Peering over the edge, he saw the determined trouser-covered backside shuffling out awkwardly, upraised towards the admiring heavens.
Oh, how was he to resist?
Kneeling quickly, he bent and bit the firm little backside through the rough fabric.
The hiss was replaced by a squeal, and with a speed that caught Herbert quite by surprise, the squirming little body slid back under the bed. In an instant, the small, dark-haired figure scrambled out from beneath the opposite side of the bed and was fleeing towards the door.
His lips twitching, Herbert swung his legs off the bed and rose. Smoothing his shirt with one hand, he strolled around the end of the bed. The door slammed closed and he heard something rattling and crashing beyond it, something heavy falling against the thick panel of wood.
One arm crossed over his waist, the hand of the other touching his lips to smother a chuckle, Herbert walked towards the door. He could hear the determined sounds of a barricade being built on the other side to prevent him escaping.
A pity that in his haste, Alfred had not noticed a rather important detail.
Herbert waited until there was silence, then caught the heavy handle of the door, twisting it and stepping back swiftly. The door opened inwards. The barricade to stop it opening collapsed in the same direction. And across the ruins of his barrier, a helmet still clutched in his hands, Alfred’s eyes went round.
Clicking his tongue, Herbert shook his head with a smile. “Oh, darling...”
Lips pulled back from fangs in another hiss, which was really quite adorable, but Herbert’s chance to admire it was brief. Ducking quickly, he managed to avoid being struck by the ruthlessly-lobbed helmet, and when he rose, he could hear the patter of small feet racing away.
Oh, the little ruffian had stamina.
Discovering quite how much would be a delightful challenge to undertake.
Carefully stepping over the fallen suit of armour and overturned table, Herbert hopped lightly onto a clear patch of floor. It was a good thing father was distracted, he mused, or else he would have been rather put out to see how much dear little Alfred had dented his Missiglian armour.
Nudging a torn-down tapestry aside with his foot, he pursed his lips. It seemed that the games were to be put on hold for another day. Father would consider Alfred his responsibility and if father emerged from his little contented cocoon with that girl and found the castle in ruins...
Well, it would be unseemly to allow one’s playthings to run amuck.
So, the boy had to be caught and quite possibly restrained to protect any more of father’s possessions. Entirely for the benefit of the castle and father’s rather impressive collection of antiques.
As he started after the little creature, Herbert’s lips were shivering from the effort of repressing a smile. All for father, of course. No personal benefit at all.
Tilting his head, his rapid walk become a quick skip, he turned sharply and took the staircase three at a time. He could hear the hurried breathing of one not yet used to going without, echoing back at him, leaving a trail as clear as the boy’s scent.
He bit his lip as he hastily stepped into the shadows.
Unsurprisingly, Alfred had been forced to double back, the hallway a dead-end unless you knew where to look for the door. The pattering feet were scurrying along the stone, and as the boy came in line with him, Herbert swept the little ruffian up in his arms.
“There you are, darling!” he exclaimed as Alfred yelped aloud, pulled fast against Herbert’s chest. He planted a fond kiss on the boy’s cheek. “Now, about this silly running away...”
And then, somehow, the boy was loose again, diving between Herbert’s feet and running much faster than such a small person should be able to.
Blinking, Herbert looked down at his arms, uttering a sound of bemusement and annoyance. Apparently, the little darling was much slippery than he looked. While a multitude had attempted the limp-body approach, very few had done it so deftly that he had actually dropped them.
Flexing his fingers, he turned and looked down the staircase.
At the foot, Alfred glanced back and Herbert could swear he heard a muted hiss.
“Oh, darling, you are such a tease,” he purred, launching himself in pursuit.
Apparently, pure panic had given Alfred a sharper turn of speed, and while he knew little of the castle, he seemed to be finding his way around most remarkably, heading for the larger rooms.
In one of the moonlight-filled drawing rooms, Herbert halted, looking around. In the shadows, there was no sign of the darling and it sounded like Alfred had realised that holding his breath was an option.
Heavy drapes lined the windows, grand chaises upon the floor, and all was still and dark, the only sign of Alfred’s presence the faint footprints in the light dust that had gathered.
Proceeding, ears attuned to the least sound, his own footfalls silent, Herbert saw a flicker of motion at the far end of the chamber and started to run, only to realise his mistake as his foot caught on something and he tripped headlong.
First caught on the boot that Alfred had left, then over a small, decorative table, he fell gracelessly, the ornamental clock sliding off the table and landing squarely on his stomach, winding him, and he heard an exclamation of triumph.
Oh, the little darling was cunning too!
As Alfred doubled back, leaping over him to race for the door, Herbert snared his ankle, bringing the boy down with a crash. Alfred exclaimed something that could only be rude, kicked out and wriggled free again, leaving a sock in Herbert’s grip.
Sitting on the floor, Herbert held the sock up to the light, pursing his lips.
“That wasn’t very nice, darling!” he called out, getting to his feet and tucking the liberated sock into the waistband of his trousers. In the hall, he heard what sounded like a pleased giggle. So, the little angel thought he would put the pursuit off with such little tricks? He smiled slowly. More fool him, then.
Looking out into the hall, he watched the small shadow darting towards one of the grand staircases and his smile widened. Casually wandering towards one of the columns that lined the room, he touched a point on the wall, which opened to reveal a narrow staircase.
Stepping into the opening, he pulled the panel shut behind him, running lightly down the stairs, fingertips braced against the cool stone.
Emerging on the lower level, he took his time to adjust the tapestry that hid the doorway, tilting his head with a slow grin as he heard the approaching pattering of bare feet on the stone floor.
Between the columns of the portrait gallery, he could see Alfred running rapidly in his direction. The boy was looking behind him, nervous, as if anticipating his hunter and he was panting softly.
Deliberately stepping out into the light, Herbert leaned against one of the columns and folded his arms over his chest, lips curving upwards. Crossing one leg before the other, he tapped his toe lightly on the floor and waited patiently.
Oblivious to Herbert’s presence, Alfred slowed his pace. He turned to keep his eyes on the only entrance he was aware of, retreating more slowly across the room between the towering pillars, watching warily for Herbert’s approach.
Lifting one hand to idly nibble on a nail, Herbert uncrossed his legs. He straightened up, lifting his other hand to smooth his hair, then adjusted the ruffles of his shirt as Alfred continued to back towards him.
The boy was a mere pace from him, shivering. Herbert stepped forward smoothly and silently. Grabbing Alfred’s backside, he beamed as the boy’s eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. Those dark eyes slid sideways, the boy’s little body rigid with shock.
“Hello, cheri,” Herbert crooned, turning the boy’s startled face to him and leaning closer.
That seemed to break through the shock and Alfred hissed and spun away, only for Herbert to snare his wrist. His leg swept out, catching the boy’s ankle with his own and Alfred yelled in dismay as he fell.
Swinging himself down over the boy, pinning him with his own weight, Herbert beamed at him. “Isn’t this delightful, darling?” he said, clasping his hands together before him. “Moonlight, privacy, romance, that delightful backside of yours...”
Alfred, it seemed, did not think so.
Squirming and wriggling, he managed to twist onto his belly, clawing at one of the pillars, trying to pull himself free. His legs thrashed, his energetic little body arching and struggling beautifully.
For a moment, sitting neatly atop the boy’s tensed and quivering backside, his own hands pressing to his chest with glee, Herbert could only watch Alfred’s struggles in rapt delight.
Of course, there was only so far that watching could take you.
Dropping his hands to the boy’s waist, he caught the fabric of Alfred’s shirt and tugged it free of his trousers, hoisting it up. And oh, if the boy’s backside was a work of art, his back was equally so.
“Oh, darling!” Herbert exclaimed, leaning down and warmly kissing the boy’s spine. “You are perfection.”
With a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a hiss, Alfred started to thrash in earnest. He twisted every which way, hips twitching, spine arcing, snarling and jerking against Herbert’s hands which were just as eagerly pinning him down.
Forced onto his back, his whole body arched beneath Herbert’s. Herbert bit the insides of his grinning lips as Alfred’s tense little body rubbed against his in ways the boy was probably not even aware of.
Hooked fingers tried to lash out at him and he laughed, catching thin wrists and forcing those small hands down. Spreading Alfred’s arms in a mock embrace, pinning his hands to the floor beneath them, Herbert leaned down over him, smiling.
“Darling, you’re wearing yourself out,” he murmured chastisingly.
Panting raggedly, his chest rising and falling rapidly, Alfred’s lips peeled back from his fangs. Every hiss was breathless now, his dark eyes flashing, and under Herbert’s hands, his arms were tensed, his shoulders arching tautly from the floor.
Pouting sweetly, Herbert managed to hide his smile. “All I wanted was to be friends, Alfred,” he cooed. “And look how cruel you have been!”
The derisive hiss said it all and Alfred tried in vain to squirm free again.
Easily restraining him, Herbert tilted his head, smiling patiently, one brow arched in silent challenge. After several minutes, Alfred sagged beneath him, growling quietly, more weakly, his arms still rigid and fingers curling and uncurling angrily.
One side of his mouth lifting, Herbert leaned down and gazed into the fierce, flashing brown eyes. “You really don’t know what you have been missing, my pretty darling,” he murmured, then rolled his hips sensually.
Eyes that had been narrowed with ire suddenly went wide and Alfred whimpered, his fingers twitching.
Repeating the motion, a leisurely cant to his hips, Herbert pressed his tongue to his fangs, drawing a pleasant breath at the warmth the friction sent through him. He felt Alfred’s shudder and a response that was far from negative beneath him.
The boy’s body was quivering more intensely and his head had fallen back against the polished floor, wide eyes staring at the ceiling.
Smiling, Herbert brushed his lips against the upturned cheeks, nose, lashes and lastly to his lips and felt the half-hearted hiss that gave way to a kiss that was so utterly and sinfully sweet, a virginal vampire’s flavour.
Then Alfred bit him.
Sitting up sharply, blood dripping from his lip, Herbert blinked in surprise.
Fangs bloodied, Alfred hissed again. His squirming began afresh, but there was a movement to it that hadn’t been there before and was rapidly making Herbert go cross-eyed. He was grinning at the sensation and at the realisation. Oh, the darling learned quickly.
His grip on Alfred’s wrists loosened, feigned freedom, and like quicksilver, Alfred had bucked his hips, wriggled his thighs and skidded free on the polished floor, leaving Herbert kneeling and dazed by the absence of pleasant pressure.
Oh, let him believe he was free.
Chasing him down and seeing how wild he could be would be all the more fun.
Using a pillar to haul himself upright, Alfred stared wildly at him, hissing rapidly, but it seemed the boy wasn’t quite capable of running yet, let alone walking, his body bent and tense, eyes dark and lips quivering.
Oh-ho...
Bracing his fingertips against the floor, Herbert slowly started to grin, shifting his weight. He saw the awareness in Alfred’s eyes, saw the wild flicker of those dark eyes and when he started to move, so did the boy.
Half-staggering, Alfred was halfway across the gallery, skidding and slipping on the polished stone as he was hit from behind by enthusiastically-sprinting vampire, both of them spinning to a halt in the doorway.
This time, Herbert had decided as he had launched himself at the boy, there would be no mercy. This time, when he brought his mouth down against that snapping, hissing, biting one, he would enjoy it.
He felt Alfred growl against his lips and felt fangs gnashing at him, small hands thrashing wildly at him. Catching both narrow wrists in one hand, he forced Alfred onto his back, pinning those vicious little hands over the boy’s head.
Breaking away from the kiss, he smiled bloodily down at Alfred as his other hand slid under the loose shirt and he felt the boy shudder as his hands smoothed down the flat little belly, every muscle twitching delightfully.
Trying to twist away, Alfred snapped his fangs and yelped in protest when Herbert twisted his own body, pinning Alfred’s legs down.
“Oh, do stop making such a fuss, my darling,” he said, kissing the tip of Alfred’s nose fondly. His other hand patiently unfastened the buttons of Alfred’s trousers and he could feel the boy shivering. “You’ll enjoy it more.”
Brown eyes stared at him and Alfred shook his head wildly, no longer struggling, but rigid, his body arched and tense.
With a smile and a nod, Herbert lowered his head and softly kissed the boy’s throat, where the bite was still crusted with blood. His fangs scraped the wound and he heard the faint whine, tasted the fresh blood.
When he slipped his hand inside Alfred’s trousers, the whine intensified, and as his fingers moved he heard the instant it changed in intonation, felt the shudder run through Alfred’s wire-taut little body.
No one could ever say he wasn’t generous.
Or selfish for that matter.
While indulging the little darling in the ways of pleasure was all well and good, it wasn’t quite all for the boy’s benefit. After all, the wanton sounds he made, the way he writhed, the little panting moans...
Well, one would have to be insensible to ignore them.
Pulling the quivering angel into his welcoming arms, Herbert kissed him deeply, deliberately, slowly. An attempt at a sharp bite was smothered by Herbert’s insistent mouth and a warning nip from his own fangs.
And yet, drawing resistance from somewhere, Alfred could still struggle. On the polished floor, he skittered and writhed, shying from Herbert’s kisses, growling and kicking out futilely. That, Herbert would happily have indulged, but when a suddenly-free hand clenched in his hair and yanked mercilessly... oh, that was too far.
Grabbing the boy’s wrists again, Herbert tossed his head, lips pulling back from his teeth in a petulant hiss. “None of that!” he growled, tightening his grip until Alfred froze in pained surprise, staring warily at him. Herbert rose swiftly and dragged the weakly kicking Alfred back into the gallery by his arms.
Apparently, his show of temper had startled Alfred into something akin to brief submission. While that was mildly disappointing, he expected the little darling to start struggling again in minutes, so the moment was all he had to ensure those grasping little hands were otherwise occupied.
Throwing Alfred ruthlessly back against one of the columns, he pressed himself against the wide-eyed boy, felt the hiss against his lips, but it was too late for the boy to start struggling now. His tongue teasingly explored Alfred’s innocent little mouth as his hands slid along Alfred’s arms, his grip steely.
By and by, Alfred’s growls and whimpers gave way to softer and more pleasant sounds. Lapping at Alfred’s fangs and the tip of his tongue, nibbling on the soft lips, Herbert smiled. And his hands moved suddenly.
The growls returned full force as Alfred felt his arms pulled tight behind him, around the column he was pressed against. Pulling the overly long woollen sock taut around the boy’s wrists, Herbert sat back on his heels with a pleased smile.
“That’s better, isn’t it, darling?” he purred, leaning in to kiss those hissing lips again, biting the fuller lower one delicately. “Now, cheri, if you would only stop making such a fuss, you would quite enjoy this...”
Jerking his arms so hard that he almost did himself an injury and arching his back away from the column, Alfred squirmed against his woollen bonds, fangs bared and eyes flashing.
Herbert bounced where he sat, unable to stifle the gleeful sound rising in his throat, his hands pressing to his lips in delight. Oh, what did father see in the silly girl? This one was far more lovely.
“Oh, darling, you are wonderful!” he exclaimed, reaching out and clasping the boy’s face between his hands, kissing him hard.
Pressing him forcefully back against the pillar, his hands slid down the boy’s throat, ripping the front of his shirt open mercilessly. He drew the coarse clothing aside, slipping it down the boy’s arms, then his lips moved, roaming, tasting every inch of that lovely, pale scholar’s skin.
Quavering whimpers escaped Alfred through those determinedly clenched fangs, the tension in his body almost as delightful under Herbert’s lips as the taste of the boy’s unblemished skin was. There were freckles on his shoulders and Herbert kissed every one of them.
With his hands now free to wander, Herbert let his fingers nimbly finish undoing the boy’s trousers as his mouth travelled over Alfred’s pale chest. His hand slipped between fabric and flesh and he uttered a sigh of pure pleasure against Alfred’s rapidly rising and falling chest.
A fresh tremor shot through the boy and Herbert smiled against his sternum, then kissed his belly, his hips, then lower and Alfred cried out and shivered for another reason entirely.
On either side of Herbert’s hips, Alfred’s feet slipped against the polished floor, aiming to kick but missing completely. His hips lifted and jolted, but his besocked foot slipped and brought him down hard, making him whine. He tried to bring his slender limbs together and Herbert chuckled low in his throat, making Alfred moan.
Bracing his palms against those tensing thighs, Herbert forced them further apart, sinking down between them and lavishing all his skill upon the quivering mass that was the young vampire.
Only when Alfred sagged limply against his sock bindings, panting weakly and dipping forward, did Herbert delicately kiss his belly, then tilt his head up and bring their lips together again. All the fight had been cheerfully drained from the boy by Herbert’s talented mouth, it seemed, as this kiss was met with parted lips and no more than token resistance.
Sliding his hands up Alfred’s thighs, Herbert pushed him back against the pillar with his own body, kissing him deeply, enjoying the faint, weary whimpers that tripped between their lips.
Drawing back barely a hair’s breadth, Alfred’s breath rapid against his parted lips, Herbert stroked his tongue across his fangs, then more gently laid his mouth against Alfred’s again. Alfred whined in quiet protest, then shuddered, inhaling sharply.
With a half-nod of confirmation, Herbert cupped the boy’s chin lightly, felt Alfred dart his tongue between their lips, felt the brush of that tentative tongue against his own, tasting his blood. A few laps gave way to a hungry moan. Alfred tugged against the bonds holding him, arching up into Herbert’s kiss with a plaintive sound, sucking greedily at lips and tongue.
Slipping one arm between Alfred’s arched back and the pillar, Herbert’s other hand deftly freed Alfred’s wrists. It took less than a moment for Alfred to realise it, then small hands were clutching wildly at Herbert’s shoulders and sinking into his hair, Alfred’s voracious mouth hungrily ravaging Herbert’s.
Shifting his weight back, Herbert lowered to boy to the floor gently, drawing his lips away from Alfred’s. He touched the boy’s blood-rouged lips lightly, felt the whine of protest against his fingertips and smiled, the tip of his tongue smoothing his own lip.
“Now, isn’t that better, darling?” he purred, licking a fingertip and gently wiping a smear of blood from the corner of Alfred’s lips.
His lips shivering, Alfred’s eyes glittered. “More,” he whispered into a panted growl.
Herbert’s lips twitched irrepressibly. “Oh,” he sighed, swooping down over the boy and kissing him hard, hard enough to gash both their lips, blood mingling into the kiss. Licking Alfred’s upper lip, he sucked lightly on the lower and purred, “Since you asked so nicely.”
Perhaps it wasn’t entirely what Alfred meant, but with a casual tug, Alfred’s trousers were torn off and flung overhead and Herbert pinned him upon the floor again, kissing him as he snared the boy’s hips, pressing his own body against Alfred’s.
Eyes widening, blood lust vying against what little control he had left, Alfred went rigid, hands tensing on Herbert’s shoulders. The tip of his tongue, pink and bloody, was visible between his fangs and he stifled a gasping whine.
Kissing Alfred’s lips, then his cheek and his lovely throat, Herbert crooned a happy sound. “Oh, darling, don’t fight anymore,” he whispered, slipping a hand between their bodies to undo his own trousers. He felt Alfred tremble and gently nibbled on his throat. “Don’t you know how I adore you?”
The small hands quivered on his shoulders. “D-don’t,” Alfred gasped out, his eyes widening even more as Herbert’s hands shaped the curve of his backside, both index fingers lightly caressing the crease between his buttocks. “Oh!”
Lavishing tender attention on Alfred’s bitten throat, Herbert smiled happily. “Oh, darling, you really shouldn’t be so worried,” he murmured, dragging his tongue up the pale arched neck. Sucking lightly on Alfred’s earlobe, he sighed pleasantly, rolling his hips. “I could show you the heights of pleasure...” He traced the shell of Alfred’s ear with his lips, barely a touch, so soft. “The depths of desire, my beautiful darling...”
Slowly, gently, he let his fangs cut into Alfred’s throat and felt the younger vampire arch against him. The hands that had been pushing him away suddenly clutched at him and when his body slid intimately against Alfred’s, Alfred moaned and clung to him all the more fiercely.
Lapping the fresh bites, Herbert trailed his lips to the unmarred side of Alfred’s throat, dragging the remains of his tie aside with his fangs. “You truly have no idea how lovely you are, my darling,” he crooned.
One hand slid up Alfred’s back, ghosting over bare skin, then over the rumpled shirt to tangle in Alfred’s hair as he kissed and nibbled the young vampire’s bared throat and felt Alfred shiver with suppressed want.
“Give in, my darling...” he whispered. “If this is but a drop in the ocean, imagine all that I can make you feel...” His hips twitched, almost sinking into the boy, but not quite, making Alfred jerk in his arms. “I can make you soar...”
Pressing his head back against the floor, Alfred’s fingers were tugging and kneading at his shoulders sporadically, his breathing growing even more ragged. Faint whimpers were escaping him, his feet straining against the floor, lifting his hips ineffectually away from Herbert’s.
With a low, rolling growl that made Alfred quiver against him, Herbert’s lips drew back from his fangs and he hissed against Alfred’s throat. Fingers bit against his shoulders and he heard the rapid panting against his ear.
And as his fangs sank into Alfred’s unmarked skin, he sheathed himself entirely within the boy’s tight, tender body with a swiftness that drove Alfred several inches across the polished floor. Alfred arched, taut as a wire, trembling with a silent scream that might have been agony or ecstasy or the most exquisite of combinations of both.
Throwing his head back with a hiss of satisfaction, Herbert bared his fangs at the high ceiling, blood streaming down his chin.
And beneath him, he heard Alfred utter a faint, shivering sob.
Shaking his hair back from his cheeks, Herbert pouted, lowering his head to nuzzle Alfred’s bloody throat. “Oh, don’t be so silly, darling,” he said, nudging his nose against Alfred’s chin. He licked a shimmering tear from Alfred’s cheek. “It only hurts a little bit.” He shifted his hips just slightly and felt Alfred’s chest rise sharply with an indrawn breath. “And see? Isn’t it nice?”
Dark eyes stared dazedly at him, glassy with pain and shock, and he felt Alfred’s little fingers so tense in the ruffles of his shirt. His lips were parted, trembling, crystal-bright tears clinging to the darling creature’s dark lashes.
Jutting out his lower lip, Herbert gazed down at him. “Oh, now, stop that,” he protested, bringing up a hand to gently touch Alfred’s lips, then lowered his mouth to kiss the darling boy’s softly.
Brushing a fingertip between their lips, Herbert lifted his head and watched the boy’s face thoughtfully. Pressing a finger against Alfred’s tongue, he shifted his body just a little and felt the whimper against his finger.
Still attending on the pain, was he? The silly darling.
Tilting his finger a bit, Herbert smiled broadly as he felt Alfred’s fang rake across the tip. He saw the dark eyes flare with want and felt that lovely pouting mouth suck sharply, hungrily, pain forgotten if only for a moment.
And that was what Herbert wanted; to see that insatiable hunger in those pretty, flashing, fire-filled eyes.
“That’s what you like, isn’t it, my darling?” he whispered, stroking his gashed finger against Alfred’s tongue with the same leisurely motion as he rolled his hips against the younger vampire’s body.
The whine merged into a moan and Alfred arched his pretty little neck, blunt teeth biting down on Herbert’s finger. Not painful, but enough to make Herbert bite on his lower lip as his hips shivered. Oh, what an enticing little bundle!
“Yes, my darling,” Herbert whispered, lowering his lips to that exquisite throat and kissing the bleeding bite gently. “Enjoy it...” He drew a hissing breath between his teeth as Alfred’s greedy little mouth began to suck in earnest, imagining all manner of wicked uses for that tongue and those pink lips. “Oh... yes...”
Quite when his lazy thrusts started to match the draw of those teasing lips, he could not be sure, lost in the pleasant sensation. Sliding a second finger into Alfred’s mouth, he felt the wanton bite and the blood well and shuddered pleasantly.
“Oh, my darling...” he moaned, arching his own neck back. His lashes fluttered against his cheekbones as that tongue curled mercilessly around his bloodied fingers and those cupid’s lips moved so beautifully. “Oh...”
And his mouth came down against Alfred’s throat once more. They arched in perfect harmony as he bit hungrily and deep, an arm slipping beneath Alfred’s back. Holding him close, blood flowed between them as he stroked deeper and harder, Alfred’s soft moans were echoed by his own.
Withdrawing his fangs, lips and teeth bloodied and wet, Herbert tilted his head to kiss Alfred’s still-sucking, panting lips, claiming them and liberating bloody fingers gently. His tongue lapped the hungry little mouth, tasting his own blood, letting Alfred’s mingle with it, then he kissed Alfred, slowly, tenderly.
That was when he felt one of Alfred’s hands touching him so shyly and, into the kiss, he smiled happily.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Alfred had been sleeping peacefully.
Of course, he had been sleeping peacefully until he woke up with a jolt. At that point, the nightmare of only a couple of nights ago had seemed like a nice dream by comparison to the flurry of memories that swept over him.
Staring blindly into the darkness around him, Alfred shivered. Maybe that had been a bad dream too. After all, he seemed to be having a lot of them lately and the sight of Sarah being bitten by his Excellency...
A sleepy sigh made already wide eyes grow that little bit larger.
Maybe the first thing he could have considered was just where he was! And more especially, just who was sleepily sighing. And, he noticed belatedly, who had arms wrapped snugly around his torso.
Trying to squirm backwards out of the gripping arms, he collided with a solid barrier of cool stone, the bottom of which was lined with plump pillows. His fingertips tentatively explored the surface, but found no evidence of what it might be.
Looking in the direction that seemed to be upwards, he saw a thin line of pale light and followed it with his eyes. It formed a perfect rectangle of proportions that seemed to be remarkably familiar.
A second sleepy mumble escaped whoever it was that was still clutching at him and he felt the person shifting closer and felt a mouth against his neck, a not completely unpleasant sensation running through him when his neck was lightly sucked at.
Haltingly, he brought one hand over to touch his assailant, biting on his lower lip, and hoping wildly that he would encounter wild, curly hair. Hair that would be dark and thick and...
...definitely not as soft and silky as the hair slipping between his fingers.
“Mmm...” A cool cheek tilted against his hand and he felt a drowsy half-yawned kiss press to his palm.
Jerking his hand back, as if burnt, Alfred uttered a faint squeak of dismay. Oh... oh, no. Not him. Not him and not here.
Fingers stroked along his side lightly. Alfred’s eyes went wide as he felt a fabric far softer than anything he was used to slipping against his skin. That only made him more aware of the distinct lack of any such fabric against his legs.
One foot still had a lonely sock on it, though. The heavy, knee-length woollen thing had clumped around his ankle, but his other foot was bare. His boots... his other sock... his clothing...
Against his chest, he felt the ruffles of a shirt that belonged to another, though the wandering hand had refrained from slipping beneath it. Even so, the fingers were resting unsettlingly close to the point were fabric gave way to flesh.
Beside Alfred, he seemed to have fallen back into whatever it was vampires did that counted for sleep. Holding his breath without even realising it, Alfred gingerly lifted that hand from his upper thigh.
As he laid it cautiously between their bodies, his fingers skimmed the fingertips and felt rough wounds. For a moment, he wondered what someone like the Graf’s son could have been doing to receive such oddly-placed injuries.
Then he remembered.
Colour blazed in his cheeks at the recollection that made him scramble upright far faster than he intended. His head cracked off the lid of what he realised had to be the son of the Graf’s sarcophagus.
Oh...
As if things hadn’t been dreadful before!
With fumbling hands, bent near double, he found a narrow groove at the edge of the surface above him and managed to push the lid open a little. The light cracked in, the warm and flickering glow from candles, and he tugged and pushed the lid open until there was a gap wide enough for him to squeeze out of.
Clumsily, he hauled himself over the edge, tumbling and landing in a heap on the floor of the crypt at the foot of the sarcophagus. The stone was cold and hard on his backside, and a glance down at the shirt he had clearly been forced into told him that the Graf’s son certainly didn’t dress for warmth.
Exuberant aqua-blue ruffles flowed from his shoulders down to his thighs, the fabric of the shirt gaping wide over his chest, and Alfred yelped in dismay at the sight of a bite on the middle of his chest. He clapped his hands over it, then remembered his throat. Too few hands!
A giggle slammed him back against the end of the stone tomb, wide eyes staring around the crypt.
Several feet away, a wooden coffin had started to open and he saw bright eyes looking out at him. The lid was thrown back and a familiar blonde woman beamed at him by the flickering light.
“If it isn’t the Professor’s little boy!”
“M-Magda?” His voice was trembling far more than he would like. “But you... you’re dead...”
Stretching her arms over her head, her nightshirt riding in ways that made his eyes drag downwards, the woman grinned, showing fangs. “Aren’t we all?” she said, then laughed and scratched her fingers through her hair.
Clutching the shirt closed over his chest, Alfred managed to get upright on legs that felt far too shaky. The oversized piece of clothing covered him to the knees, but he had never felt smaller and more helpless than he did in that moment, his single sock tangled around his ankle.
The woman’s eyes remained on him, he noticed, even when he tried to edge sideways along the sarcophagus and out of sight and her grin just kept getting wider and wider. Reaching down into the coffin she occupied, she prodded something.
“Look here, you lazy old goat...”
A grunt from the coffin preceded the drowsy head of Sarah’s father.
“Chagal!” Alfred squeaked, wishing he could hide better behind the sarcophagus. His legs were feeling very exposed and the draught was lifting the back of the shirt in a way that made him even more aware of the lack of clothing beneath.
Rubbing his eyes, the innkeeper yawned widely, squinting sleepily around him. “What is it?” he grumbled, then seemed to notice Alfred pressing back against the stone sarcophagus, his mouth curling up. “Oh ho! So the Professor didn’t teach you well enough, hey?”
Defiantly, Alfred felt his lips pull back from his teeth in a hiss, then he gasped in embarrassment at such a reaction, clapping a hand over his mouth, his eyes wide.
Of course, by moving his hand, the shirt over his chest gaped open mercilessly and he saw Magda’s eyes dip downwards. How was it possible for someone to grin so much without their face cracking?
Leaning one arm on the edge of his coffin, Chagal was laughing as coarsely as the woman was. “A vampire blushing?” He waved a finger at Alfred. “You’ll learn better, boy. You suck the blood...”
“Or other things!” Magda burst out laughing as she climbed out of the coffin. Chagal grinned broadly, slapping her firmly on the backside.
Alfred wondered if he was imagining the heat burning in his cheeks. “I-I...”
“Oh, don’t worry, little one,” she crooned, adjusting her nightdress in a way that made him goggle at her. Sauntering towards him, she smoothed the fabric down even more. “You’ll soon get used to it.” Two cool fingertips touched the middle of his chest and he shied back, colliding with the stone. Those fingertips walked up his chest, her grin close to his face. “After all, you’re one of us now...”
His hands flapped hopelessly several inches from hers. “Don’t...”
Her lips puckered in a pout. “You don’t want to touch me, little Alfred?” she said, eyes large. Suddenly, she caught his hands and pressed them to the barely-covered expanse of her chest that had seemed to interesting only days before. Alfred yelped and pulled his hands back as Magda and Chagal howled with laughter. “See, Chagal! you had no need to fear for your daughter with this one!”
The clomp of Chagal’s boots on the floor of the crypt indicated that he had climbed out of the coffin to and was approaching. “He is too pretty for his own good, isn’t he?” he said, giving Alfred’s shirt a casual tug.
“Pretty enough for someone to take a bite...” Magda’s mouth was close and he could see the gleaming fangs. “Pity...” Her hands were wandering and he was backed up against the tomb with no way to squeeze passed them.
Clutching at the ends of the shirt, Alfred tried to hold it down, but four hands outnumbered two and despite protests and squirming, he felt the fabric hauled up and heard Chagal’s coarsely laughed exclamation. “He had a bite right on his tokhis!”
Alfred whimpered, closing his hands over his face, which he knew had to be scarlet.
Just when he’d thought things couldn’t get any worse.
“And who has been nibbling on your backside, little Alfred?” Magda chortled. “It is a fine sight, after a...”
The sudden silence and the absence of hands made Alfred blinked behind his hands and he dared to peek between his fingers. Both the vampires had shied away from him and were staring at someone behind him, trepidation on their faces.
From above, fingertips lightly combed through his hair and Alfred went rigid. He slowly looked over his shoulder, a faint sound escaping him at the sight of the Graf’s son. The pale-haired vampire’s arm was resting on the edge of the tomb, his chin propped on his arm, while his other hand continued to lightly stroke Alfred’s hair.
“Darling, if you would like me to toss these two out into daylight,” he murmured, his voice soft with sleepiness, his grey-green eyes drowsily fixed on Chagal and Magda. “I am sure I could oblige.”
The two vampires pressed together fearfully, which made Alfred stare almost as much as the fingertip running in circles on the back of his neck. Surely, they were vampires as well, but the Graf’s son seemed to control them with a word.
“N-no,” he stammered, moving to step away from the sarcophagus, but the Graf’s son was quicker and the hand slid around before his chest, drawing him back against the end of the sarcophagus. “I-I... it... they were... they meant no harm...” He drew a sharp breath as lips touched his throat, his eyes wide. “Oh...”
If he looked startled, though, it was nothing compared to Magda and Chagal.
“We didn’t know he was yours,” Chagal said, bowing with all the excessive humility and apology he could manage, hands raised and head bobbing. “My apologies, your Excellency...”
Alfred’s breath quivered over his lips as a tongue dragged up his throat and the mouth caught his earlobe, sucking on it lightly. “Do you hear that, my darling?” The whispered breath made him tremble as much as the contact of flesh to flesh. “You’re mine now.”
“I-I... I’m Sarah’s...” Alfred protested weakly. “She... she bit me...”
“Oh, you silly little angel,” the Graf’s son whispered against his ear. “Anyone can bite someone. Take our two little friends here as examples...” Alfred’s throat was kissed again, making him shiver. “I did something far more significant.”
Whirling away, Alfred barely got a pace before he was pulled back towards the sarcophagus, his new position meaning he was facing the Graf’s son, who smiled brightly at him. “You really are a silly little thing, aren’t you?”
And then the Graf’s son had a hand in his hair and the arm around his waist had pulled him inches off the ground against the end of the tomb as he was thoroughly kissed. His hands clutched wildly at the vampire’s shoulders, but whether trying to force him away or pull him closer, he couldn’t be sure.
Only when the Graf’s son chose to free his lips did he become aware that their audience had doubled, and he squirmed weakly in the fair vampire’s arms, trying to reach the floor.
Beyond the second sarcophagus, Sarah was staring at him, a hand over her mouth, but closer than that, the Graf was gazing at them. The dark eyes snared his and his whimpers and struggles faded to silence, his hands trembling on the fair-haired vampire’s shoulders.
“Don’t scare him, father,” the vampire holding him said, laughing. He warmly kissed Alfred’s forehead. “He is lovely!”
“And more than a little destructive,” the Graf said quietly, a chastising note in his words.
Alfred flinched from the disapproval in his Excellency’s voice, hiding his face behind a hand. One of his fingers was nipped on, and he yelped in surprise and saw the grey-green eyes dancing.
“I shall tie him up better next time,” the younger vampire said happily.
“Next time?” Alfred’s voice emerged as an indignant squeal. “I-I... no! Sarah!” He turned a wild look on the girl. Now that her hand had fallen away, he could see that she was laughing. He squirmed and wriggled, which only made the fair vampire giggle and cling to him more affectionately. “I-I... I love Sarah!”
Abruptly, he was dropped, landing on his tailbone on the floor. He managed to scramble onto his feet, rubbing his offended backside and warily looking between the Graf and his son.
The Graf’s son swung his legs over the end of the sarcophagus as well, sitting on the end for a moment before dropping down lightly onto his toes. “That’s as may be, my pretty little darling,” he said cheerfully. “But we all make silly mistakes now and then, especially regarding girls.”
“Herbert,” the Graf murmured.
A charming smile was turned in the direction of the Graf, who was lightly stepping down from his own sarcophagus. “Oh, father, you know I only tease,” the fair-haired vampire beamed.
In that moment, Alfred tried to dart passed both elder vampires to Sarah, but a dark-clothed arm caught him lightly and he froze, eyes slipping sideways to see the Graf gazing at him with the suggestion of a smile barely visible but in his eyes.
“You may be hers, good Alfred,” he said softly. “But for now, she is mine.” He was drawn gently back and the Graf looked towards his son. Arms twined around Alfred from behind and he felt the son’s cheek press against his hair. “Herbert would like to spend time with you now.”
“So that’s what they call it now, hey?” Chagal muttered with a snicker that made Alfred blush even more deeply, but the blush was forgotten as the Graf growled low in his throat, dark eyes flashing. Chagal made a strange sound that was laced with sharp fear. “My apologies your Excellency!”
A subtle nod of the Graf’s head induced the hasty flight of Chagal, judging by the clattering boots, and Magda, judging by the shrill nervous giggle, then the dark eyes returned to Alfred and the suggestion of a smile was there once more.
“You will entertain Herbert,” the Graf said softly, lifting Alfred’s chin with one hand. Behind him, the son made a pleased sound and kissed Alfred warmly on the throat. “I am sure you will find him pleasant company.”
“But Sarah...”
The Graf unfurled one arm, his cloak billowing about him, and he drew Sarah in with nothing more than a gesture. “Sarah will find you,” he said softly. He turned a gentleman’s smile on the girl. “My dear?”
“I will,” she promised, then leaned closer and kissed Alfred chastely on the lips, her eyes going wide. She licked her finger, then looked at the Graf’s son, who uttered a mischievous giggle. “What have you...?”
The arms tightened around Alfred’s waist and he was sure he could almost hear the older vampire purring happily. “You left him on his own,” he sighed, sounding almost lamentable. “I had to... distract him.”
“No! No, you didn’t! You really, really didn’t!” Alfred squeaked, feeling colour rise in his cheeks as the Graf’s son’s hands slowly started to draw the shirt up his thighs. “I-I told him not to!”
Sarah was staring at him. “You and he...”
“Him!” Alfred exclaimed. “It was him! I ran away! A lot!”
“Oh, you enjoyed it, darling,” the son giggled and kissed his neck. “Anyway.” He was apparently looking at Sarah. “You were occupied with my father.” Alfred felt Herbert sticking his tongue out. “Your loss.”
Sarah started to hiss, but was silenced by a soft chuckle from the Graf.
“Perhaps, this can wait for another day, Herbert,” he chastised gently, long, elegant fingers turning Sarah’s face towards his. “We have far better things to be doing than arguing semantics.”
Alfred saw the petulant scowl fading from Sarah’s face a moment before the Graf drew his cloak around her and they both faded into nothing.
Alfred sagged in Herbert’s arms, his hands dropping limply by his sides. “But I love her...” he mumbled to no one in particular.
“And I,” Herbert crooned, thrusting a hand under Alfred’s shirt and wrapping a hand around him in a way that made something else rise more prominently in his thoughts. “Love you, my darling.”
He was whirled about to face Herbert, the vampire who had bothered to pay him attention while he was left alone. He saw the happy smile on the cheerful lips of the vampire and this time, when he was kissed, he kissed back.