That noise. He can hear it echoing from down the hallway, where he's hidden behind a clock. It's wide enough for him to fit behind, and he hopes that the ticking of the clock can coverup the sound of his heart, how hard he's breathing.
Why would a friend of Papa's do something so cruel? He doesn't understand, only knows that he wants to go to his Papa and he can't. Not if he wants to keep his Mama safe, too.
Why would a friend of Papa's do something so cruel? He doesn't understand, only knows that he wants to go to his Papa and he can't. Not if he wants to keep his Mama safe, too.
Tch tch tch.
"Ready or not...here I come...."
Kronid isn't being loud - but his voice still seems to carry, echoing, whispering like his lips are inches from the boy's ear. He doesn't run, the sound of his boots adding a downbeat to the rhythmic click click clicking of his tongue against his teeth and palette.
He hasn't found Herbert yet - but truth be told, he's not trying very hard. Sure, he could just drain the child. Hell, he could kill everyone here, easily, and take over the castle. But it just isn't his style, really...and besides, there is a part of him, long distant, that just -
Well, kids aren't worth it.
Tch tch tch. Tch tch tch. The clink of his coins, the tap of his boots.
"Oh Herrrrrrrbert, where aaaaaaaaaare you...?"
"Ready or not...here I come...."
Kronid isn't being loud - but his voice still seems to carry, echoing, whispering like his lips are inches from the boy's ear. He doesn't run, the sound of his boots adding a downbeat to the rhythmic click click clicking of his tongue against his teeth and palette.
He hasn't found Herbert yet - but truth be told, he's not trying very hard. Sure, he could just drain the child. Hell, he could kill everyone here, easily, and take over the castle. But it just isn't his style, really...and besides, there is a part of him, long distant, that just -
Well, kids aren't worth it.
Tch tch tch. Tch tch tch. The clink of his coins, the tap of his boots.
"Oh Herrrrrrrbert, where aaaaaaaaaare you...?"
Herbert covers both hands with his mouth, doing his best to stay quiet. Silent. He must be absolutely silent to win the game. Win the game and live. And hopefully save Mama, too.
He can't get the image of the man's blood soaked mouth out of his head, and he feels tears sliding down his face, over his hands where the cover his mouth.
He can't get the image of the man's blood soaked mouth out of his head, and he feels tears sliding down his face, over his hands where the cover his mouth.
Tap tap tap. Click click click. Clink clink clink.
And then he stops.
Right in front of the clock.
"Where, oh where could you be? You know...I could make you come out, if I wanted. But that would be cheating, wouldn't it?"
Turning towards the clock, he sets his toe against the base.
And he scoots it, just half an inch, towards the wall.
And then he stops.
Right in front of the clock.
"Where, oh where could you be? You know...I could make you come out, if I wanted. But that would be cheating, wouldn't it?"
Turning towards the clock, he sets his toe against the base.
And he scoots it, just half an inch, towards the wall.
"I would -- ah." There's a third finger into him, and he wants to tell Alfred he could take him now, just like this. But Alfred is the one in control here, and Herbert feels in no place to give orders.
"I would like that. Please."
"I would like that. Please."
"Oh please -- " Alfred's fingers are rubbing against just the right spot, and Herbert feels sparks of pleasure rolling up his spine. He tries pressing his palms flat against the mattress, tries to be good and not touch, but his fingers curl against the sheets, nails digging holes into them.
"Alfred, my love. My sun and stars, you are driving me absolutely mad. Please, please, let me feel you. All of you. I need you inside me so badly."
"Alfred, my love. My sun and stars, you are driving me absolutely mad. Please, please, let me feel you. All of you. I need you inside me so badly."
Oh. Alfred stretched out on the bed, cock hard and straining against his stomach, lace stockings showing off his long, well muscled legs, is a vision. He takes just a short moment to appreciate the sight of him before straddling Alfred's hips.
His hand grips the headboard next to where Alfred's hand is, and he braces his hand against Alfred's chest as he slowly, s l o w l y takes Alfred's cock into him. Sinking down inch by agonizing inch until he's fully seated and gasping.
His hand grips the headboard next to where Alfred's hand is, and he braces his hand against Alfred's chest as he slowly, s l o w l y takes Alfred's cock into him. Sinking down inch by agonizing inch until he's fully seated and gasping.
There's lipstick on his thighs, his cock. Smeared across his face and Alfred's. It's decadent, the way the red looks against Alfred's pale skin. He groans into this kiss and moves his hips in a slow, filthy grind. Just feeling Alfred buried so deeply inside him.
"Tell me?" he asks, pleading and breathless. "Tell me how to move. How you want me to move."
"Tell me?" he asks, pleading and breathless. "Tell me how to move. How you want me to move."
"Oh, every inch of you, goodness yes." He starts moving, but slowly. Shifting up on his knees until Alfred is nearly out of him, then gradually lowering himself down again. Letting himself feel every long, thick inch of Alfred's cock drag out of him and then push back into him. Enjoying the friction, the way their bodies slide together. The way they fit so perfectly together.
"I love this," He sighs, ducking his head to press a firm kiss to Alfred's lips. "I love you."
"I love this," He sighs, ducking his head to press a firm kiss to Alfred's lips. "I love you."
The long pause between the whine and Alfred actually being able to speak again is a good sign. It means he's enjoying himself, which is clear from the expression on his face, the way that his hips twitch.
"Tell me, my love," Herbert croons, curling his fingers just so. "Will you want me to make love to you tonight? Or would you prefer just my fingers."
"Tell me, my love," Herbert croons, curling his fingers just so. "Will you want me to make love to you tonight? Or would you prefer just my fingers."
Ah yes, there it is, he's found just the right spot. He beams, pleased with himself and with Alfred's delectable reactions. He curls his fingers again, rubbing back and forth over that spot just to drive Alfred a little higher, wind him a little tighter.
"Then I will more than happily make love to you, mon cheri," he purrs, stroking the fingers of his free hand over Alfred's chest. "I haven't been with anyone like that in over a hundred years. I'm delighted to share that experience with you."
"Then I will more than happily make love to you, mon cheri," he purrs, stroking the fingers of his free hand over Alfred's chest. "I haven't been with anyone like that in over a hundred years. I'm delighted to share that experience with you."
"When you make love to me..." Herbert muses, spreading his fingers wide and twisting them to stretch Alfred further. His expressions softens to something a little more thoughtful. Quietly adoring.
"When you make love to me, everything in the universe narrows down to just us. To all the places our bodies meet. You become the only thing in the world that I could possibly be bothered to care about.
And you make me feel so -- so full. Physically, yes, but emotionally too. Like there's no space in me left for anything but you."
"When you make love to me, everything in the universe narrows down to just us. To all the places our bodies meet. You become the only thing in the world that I could possibly be bothered to care about.
And you make me feel so -- so full. Physically, yes, but emotionally too. Like there's no space in me left for anything but you."
"Oh, mon cheri," Herbert sighs, and leans down to kiss him. As they kiss, he nudges a third finger against him. Silently asking permission to give Alfred more.
He takes one of Alfred's hands to kiss it, then gently pulls his hand away to reach for the oil again. For what they're going to do, he wants Alfred to be nice and relaxed and slick. So he gets a little more oil and spreads it around where his fingers are breaching Alfred's body.
He takes one of Alfred's hands to kiss it, then gently pulls his hand away to reach for the oil again. For what they're going to do, he wants Alfred to be nice and relaxed and slick. So he gets a little more oil and spreads it around where his fingers are breaching Alfred's body.
"Easy now, love. Just keep relaxing and enjoying yourself." The third finger gets worked in slowly next to the others, and he stays there for the moment, three fingers buried deep inside Alfred's body. Allowing his lover to adjust to the new sensation.
While he does, he strokes Alfred's hip gently, peppering his face with soft, sweet little kisses.
While he does, he strokes Alfred's hip gently, peppering his face with soft, sweet little kisses.
Big crowds...aren't much Solin's favorite.
He's a quiet sort of man, and the bustle of a formal party isn't generally his style. His nights are more often spent spinning or weaving, quietly, by himself where he can be comfortable and unbothered. Sometimes, though...sometimes he feels a little lonely.
Maybe that's what made him get himself cleaned up, put on a decent suit and his nicest silk shawl, and come to the castle. He'd seen the Von Krolocks about town - a nice family, they seemed, generous and dazzling. Most of the party is people from the village anyway, people who aren't used to this, either. Still, it's overwhelming...and so there he stands, on the edge of the dancefloor, holding a glass of wine he hasn't taken a drink from yet.
When someone meets his eye, he smiles, polite and sweet...but any women who ask him to dance are gently turned down.
He sighs a little, watching the people on the dancefloor whirl around.
He's a quiet sort of man, and the bustle of a formal party isn't generally his style. His nights are more often spent spinning or weaving, quietly, by himself where he can be comfortable and unbothered. Sometimes, though...sometimes he feels a little lonely.
Maybe that's what made him get himself cleaned up, put on a decent suit and his nicest silk shawl, and come to the castle. He'd seen the Von Krolocks about town - a nice family, they seemed, generous and dazzling. Most of the party is people from the village anyway, people who aren't used to this, either. Still, it's overwhelming...and so there he stands, on the edge of the dancefloor, holding a glass of wine he hasn't taken a drink from yet.
When someone meets his eye, he smiles, polite and sweet...but any women who ask him to dance are gently turned down.
He sighs a little, watching the people on the dancefloor whirl around.
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