He slicks three of his fingers up and reaches between Alfred's thighs to circle a fingertip around his entrance. Both testing the waters and making sure Alfred is slick, as well.
His free hand rests against Alfred's chest, above his heart. Feeling the coolness of his skin and the sculpted muscle of his pecs.
Edited (vampires don't have heartbeats) 2022-02-20 07:28 (UTC)
He doesn't need to breathe, he doesn't - sometimes his lungs actually protest how much he still does so out of pure habit; but still he gasps as he feels Herbert's finger traces around him. The feeling of getting slicked down makes him groan, hips twitching as he struggles against the impulse to squirm.
But he holds still. He holds still, and he waits, one hand wrapping over Herbert's on his chest.
"You're doing wonderfully, my love," he purrs and carefully working his finger into Alfred, then holds his hand still. Letting Alfred get used to the intrusion. Letting his love's body relax a little.
His tongue darts out to wet his lips, thinking about how if all goes well, he could very well be inside Alfred tonight.
The yelp isn't one of pain - just reflex, his head lolling back as he breathes through the feeling. He had tried to do this before, like he had said...but he hadn't gotten very far at all with it before shame had made him abandon the idea.
But having someone else do this, having HERBERT do this...he whimpers, softly and sweetly, skin all flushed red.
"That - oh, Engel-"
He's not...quite coherent. But perhaps that's not a surprise.
"Well that is a good sign." He starts moving his hand in slow, even strokes. Rocking in and out of Alfred's body, his eyes trained on Alfred's face. Watching carefully for any potential flinches or cringes.
The sensation is new, but after a few strokes, he starts to calm a little - Herbert will no doubt feel him start to relax a little around his hand, his expression slowly moving from taut with nerves to lax with pleasure.
It feels good, and there's no shame in that for him. He feels safe, he feels loved.
"I - I like it," he groans in a way that suggests that is rather an understatement.
"Well I'm glad to hear that." He reaches up with his free hand to stroke Alfred's cheek, pleased to feel him relaxing a little. To see him enjoying himself.
He keeps at that pace, patient and steady, eager to show Alfred more but not wanting to rush him, either.
Obediently, he nuzzles the hand against his cheek - one of those catlike little moments from the younger vampire, when he's got his guard down, when he's at peace with things.
Experimentally, he rocks his hips a little - just a little - swallowing hard at the feeling of being stretched a little. He's beginning to understand why Herbert likes this, now, and he resolves to bear all these feelings in mind the next time their positions are reversed.
"There you are. Yes, move however makes you feel good. Move how your body tells you to." He nudges his second finger against Alfred's entrance. Just barely nudging.
He hisses a little as he tries rocking just a little harder - it doesn't quite hurt, but there's almost a burn to it, something that makes him grasp at the bedsheets. He bites his lip for a moment, shivering, and then -
His voice rises in a high whine at the intrusion - his hands clench, thighs shaking a little as he tries to adjust. Once the moment of initial tension passes, Alfred's hips twitch again, seeking some sort of friction against his erection and finding none.
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."
The curl of Herbert's fingers nearly makes Alfred see spots - it's a sensation he has never felt before, and it has him immediately rolling his hips, trying to get More of it. When he remembers how to speak after a moment or two, he, looks down at Herbert, face completely flushed, jaw taut through another moan before he manages a reply.
"I - I want - I want...to feel you. Yes. I - ah! - I want for you t-to take me. P-please."
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."
And wind him tighter he most certainly is - the rubbing is rewarded with panting, with twitching, with Alfred's hands not really knowing where to go or what to do and clutching desperately at the bedsheets, at his lover. The pleasure pulsing through him is white hot, making him squirm and writhe in ways he has no control over whatsoever.
The admission that Herbert hasn't topped in over a CENTURY snaps him out of it for just a moment, a look of wonder crossing his face amidst the desire...but the fact that he is willing to do this, willing to step away from his habits for Alfred's sake?
It makes him feel special. Loved.
His hands meet the hand wandering over his chest, pulling it up so that he can kiss the back of it, the palm. "I - I would love that, Engel. I - hnnnn - I want to understand what...what you feel...when I'm making love to 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."
The stretch coaxes a hiss out of Alfred, his hips winding...but then Herbert is talking. He's talking, and the words are sincere, sweet, so gentle and loving and caring.
Despite the situation, he finds the presence of mind to shift his restless grip on the free hand, holding it firmly against his still heart with both of his own slender, work-worn hands. He tears up a little bit, but not with pain, not at all.
"...That - that's so...so beautiful, my moonlight. You're...you're my everything. No matter what we are doing, how we are doing it I - ah - I love you. You make me feel...complete."
"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.
Alfred hums a little into the kiss, happily - a noise that rises in pitch as he feels that third finger. While Herbert pulls back, fetches more oil, he shudders, wordlessly nodding his head and trying to still his hips.
The stretching is - it's a new feeling, but so far, something he's been relaxed enough to tolerate. Herbert is being very gentle, very sweet about it...and, well, he knows what he is doing.
So he lays there, head lolling back a little against the pillows as he waits to be pushed a little further still.
"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.
It's a funny sort of hiss that leaves Alfred at the slide of that third finger - his eyes shut for a moment, just to let himself focus on how it all feels. The stretch of himself, the sensation of being filled, the gentle touches and kisses that Herbert lays upon him.
It takes him a minute to let himself fully relax to it - and it's evident that he does when he rolls his hips very slowly, just once or twice, whimpering softly.
"Oh, my darling, I'm so glad you like it. I've been dying to do this for you for ages but I'll admit I'd been a little hesitant about shortening my nails." Still, they'll be nearly grown back by tomorrow night. He just hadn't done this in so very long that it feels so new to him, too.
Herbert hums his approval at the way Alfred rolls his hips, squeezing his thigh encouragingly. "Just like that, love. Move in whatever way feels good to you."
"I - mhhhnhhh - I'm glad you - you did," Alfred pants, trying to be coherent and beginning to fail at it. "Means a lot th-that you would...go...to the troubleeeAAAH-"
His words come to a halt as he tries a different movement, letting the three slender fingers hit him a little deeper. Instinctively, he starts to move a little more, the bucking of his hips trying to find a bit of a rhythm.
This is so new to him - but he likes it. He finds himself wanting more of it.
Oh, Hebert looks overjoyed. Like he just found a new toy and he can't wait to play with it all day. Or night, as it were.
He crooks his fingers just a little, keeping them against that spot deep inside Alfred to let him work himself against it. "It's alright if you finish, my darling. We can give you a breather afterwards before I make love to you properly."
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His free hand rests against Alfred's chest, above his heart. Feeling the coolness of his skin and the sculpted muscle of his pecs.
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But he holds still. He holds still, and he waits, one hand wrapping over Herbert's on his chest.
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His tongue darts out to wet his lips, thinking about how if all goes well, he could very well be inside Alfred tonight.
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The yelp isn't one of pain - just reflex, his head lolling back as he breathes through the feeling. He had tried to do this before, like he had said...but he hadn't gotten very far at all with it before shame had made him abandon the idea.
But having someone else do this, having HERBERT do this...he whimpers, softly and sweetly, skin all flushed red.
"That - oh, Engel-"
He's not...quite coherent. But perhaps that's not a surprise.
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Oh, his boy blushes so beautifully.
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It feels good, and there's no shame in that for him. He feels safe, he feels loved.
"I - I like it," he groans in a way that suggests that is rather an understatement.
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He keeps at that pace, patient and steady, eager to show Alfred more but not wanting to rush him, either.
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Experimentally, he rocks his hips a little - just a little - swallowing hard at the feeling of being stretched a little. He's beginning to understand why Herbert likes this, now, and he resolves to bear all these feelings in mind the next time their positions are reversed.
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"When you're ready, tell me."
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He hisses a little as he tries rocking just a little harder - it doesn't quite hurt, but there's almost a burn to it, something that makes him grasp at the bedsheets. He bites his lip for a moment, shivering, and then -
"...I'm - I think I'm ready. P-please."
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"Still feeling good, my love?"
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It takes him a minute before he can even speak.
"Y-yes - ah - yes, it's...it feels...it feels good...."
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"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."
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The curl of Herbert's fingers nearly makes Alfred see spots - it's a sensation he has never felt before, and it has him immediately rolling his hips, trying to get More of it. When he remembers how to speak after a moment or two, he, looks down at Herbert, face completely flushed, jaw taut through another moan before he manages a reply.
"I - I want - I want...to feel you. Yes. I - ah! - I want for you t-to take me. P-please."
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"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."
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The admission that Herbert hasn't topped in over a CENTURY snaps him out of it for just a moment, a look of wonder crossing his face amidst the desire...but the fact that he is willing to do this, willing to step away from his habits for Alfred's sake?
It makes him feel special. Loved.
His hands meet the hand wandering over his chest, pulling it up so that he can kiss the back of it, the palm. "I - I would love that, Engel. I - hnnnn - I want to understand what...what you feel...when I'm making love to you...."
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"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."
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Despite the situation, he finds the presence of mind to shift his restless grip on the free hand, holding it firmly against his still heart with both of his own slender, work-worn hands. He tears up a little bit, but not with pain, not at all.
"...That - that's so...so beautiful, my moonlight. You're...you're my everything. No matter what we are doing, how we are doing it I - ah - I love you. You make me feel...complete."
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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.
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The stretching is - it's a new feeling, but so far, something he's been relaxed enough to tolerate. Herbert is being very gentle, very sweet about it...and, well, he knows what he is doing.
So he lays there, head lolling back a little against the pillows as he waits to be pushed a little further still.
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While he does, he strokes Alfred's hip gently, peppering his face with soft, sweet little kisses.
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It's a funny sort of hiss that leaves Alfred at the slide of that third finger - his eyes shut for a moment, just to let himself focus on how it all feels. The stretch of himself, the sensation of being filled, the gentle touches and kisses that Herbert lays upon him.
It takes him a minute to let himself fully relax to it - and it's evident that he does when he rolls his hips very slowly, just once or twice, whimpering softly.
"Mmnh, this - this is - oh, Herbert-"
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Herbert hums his approval at the way Alfred rolls his hips, squeezing his thigh encouragingly. "Just like that, love. Move in whatever way feels good to you."
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His words come to a halt as he tries a different movement, letting the three slender fingers hit him a little deeper. Instinctively, he starts to move a little more, the bucking of his hips trying to find a bit of a rhythm.
This is so new to him - but he likes it. He finds himself wanting more of it.
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He crooks his fingers just a little, keeping them against that spot deep inside Alfred to let him work himself against it. "It's alright if you finish, my darling. We can give you a breather afterwards before I make love to you properly."
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