It actually takes him a while to pull himself away from Herbert's neck - nose and mouth just pressed to his cool skin, breathing him in. It's strange...maybe it's his senses already beginning to sharpen, or maybe it's just that his first memory of their dance, of being close had imprinted upon him more deeply than he might have admitted; the scent of the vampire is heady to him, floral, steeped in oils and colognes, tinted with something else he can't quite name -

Whatever it is, Alfred finds that...he likes it. He purrs in his throat as he is pet, feeling the gentle graze of Herbert's nails, and his hips twitch again, giving him just a tiny thrill of friction before he keens softly and stops himself.

It's good, that he is being understood. As much as he may want (or even need - he throbs guiltily beneath the other man) release right now, he just...isn't ready, not for EVERYTHING.

So, drawing in a shaky breath, he pulls back finally, but not without placing a fluttering, lush little kiss against Herbert's throat.