By now, Alfred has more or less gotten used to the basic staples of vampirism. The strength, the speed - but he doesn't always put them to use. The strength, sure, but he doesn't much have need of the unnatural swiftness.

So it's perhaps a little jarring when, at that question, Herbert will find his wrists grabbed and yanked upward in a flash of movement, robbing him of his own touch and replacing the sight of Alfred languidly stroking himself with the sight of him pinning his lover down, hovering over his body so the only point of contact is that grip, fangs bared, a wicked, breathless smile on his painted lips.

"Teach you a lesson. Herbert. That's what."