The way that Herbert is looking at him right now, the desire in his eyes...oh, it's burning in his chest, making him feel breathless and fluttery and vicious all at once. Hearing his name said like that is intoxicating, and he - he can't help it.
Climbing onto the bed between Herbert's legs, he kneels over his lover - making a show of sliding one slender hand down into the lacy underwear, fangs bearing in a little hiss of pleasure as he gives himself a few slow strokes.
"You're beautiful, Engel," he rasps, all the while his hand moving, moving, moving just out of sight behind the crimson lace. "Look at what you're doing to me."
"Touch yourself. Slowly. I want - mmnh - to watch you."
He's going to cry. He's going to weep because Alfred is touching himself for him, and the sight of his hand moving underneath the material of his underwear, the way he moans, the dark timbre to his voice. It's all so perfect and oh, he is lucky lucky lucky.
He follows the order, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking as slowly as he's able to manage. "Happily, darling."
It's taking everything in Alfred not to speed up his own strokes - there's a sheen of sweat already forming on his forehead, on his chest. He looks drawn taut, like a spring could snap at any moment and he could be on top of his lover.
But he isn't. He's taking this slow, very slow. And there's a dark bit of him that really wants to hear Herbert come completely undone.
"...Just like that," he purrs, purposefully pushing against the briefs so Herbert gets just a glimpse of what's happening in there. "A little more, a little faster...nngh - but-" His eyes flash, flicking from Herbert's hand to his face and back again.
It's wicked. It's cruel, making him wait like this. Ordering him around so -- so expertly. And he loves it. Watching, listening to Alfred be so dominant. So carefully poised and in charge of the entire situation. It's delicious.
He moves his hand a little faster, but carefully, carefully. Paying attention to his body to make sure he doesn't push himself over the edge. "What -- what happens if I do? What will you do?"
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.
Herbert gasps and arches up as he's pinned down, striving for more contact and getting none. Oh that grin. Almost feral in its ferocity, and Herbert wants to kiss him so badly, but he can't. Alfred is calling the shots, here.
That smile is sharp enough to cut, and leaves Herbert squirming a little under Alfred's grip. "Then I'll have to be careful, won't I?"
This is FUN. He LIKES this, he likes how it's making him feel, how Herbert is responding. Lowering himself down so that their bodies are pressed together, he ruts a couple of times up against him, lacy underwear up against bare, sensitive skin.
He moans loudly at the friction, placing a kiss on Herbert's chest, looking at the mark, getting more ideas still.
"...You will," he growls without looking up, his voice tight with need. He's teasing himself in all this, too.
"The lipstick marks...I think they look nice on your beautiful skin, my moonlight. I...I wonder how they would look just a bit...further down."
He does his best to keep still, setting his resolve. He's not going to come until Alfred tells him to. He's going to be good, damn it. Because Alfred asked him to be.
As challenging as that might be. Especially with Alfred moving his mouth further and further down, leaving a trail of lipstick kisses behind.
He's slid down between Herbert's legs now, looking up at him with a dark grin. His hands settle on his lover's inner thighs, lightly digging his filed claws in.
"Let's see."
And then, without another moment of hesitation, he kisses the shaft of Herbert's cock...before sliding it into his mouth, leaving a smear of red lipstick as he goes.
The lipstick is smeared across Alfred's face, and now across the shaft of Herbert's cock, and he can't help but reach down to tangle a hand in Alfred's hair, tugging sharply. He whines low in his throat, digging his heels into the mattress.
It's not actually all that frequently that Alfred goes down on Herbert. It isn't so much for a lack of willingness for it - it's more self-consciousness, about how he's doing at it, how it looks, the crookedness of his fangs.
But right now? That self-consciousness feels distant, and his purr rumbles deep in his chest as he looks up through his eyelashes, taking Herbert in shallow at first, then bobs his head in closer, leaving little stripes of lipstick higher and higher on his lover's shaft.
It's a dangerous game he's playing right now, and he knows it - it would be easy to bring Herbert off before he means to this way. So he listens carefully, reaches out with his mind to gauge just how wild he's driven the older vampire thus far.
Alfred's own cock, of course, is straining against his underwear, every twitch and grind of his hips making him hiss around Herbert's cock. He's going to have to prepare him, very, VERY soon.
"Alfred," he breathes, reaching behind him to grip at a pillow, digging his claws into it to try and ground himself. He's trying to stay still but his hips are twitching, fingers flexing against Alfred's scalp and he can feel now close to the edge he's getting. Teetering on the very brink, constantly in danger of falling over but trying to pull himself back.
He keeps his gaze on the canopy overhead, because he knows that if he looks down, if he sees Alfred's lips stretched around his cock like that, bright red and glistening, he'll lose it completely.
Oh, he's - he's close, he's very close. Alfred can feel it, both in the way his lover sounds, the way he says his name, the way he's moving as though one wrong squirm will send him tumbling over the edge -
And so, trying to suppress a shudder of his own, he pulls abruptly off of Herbert, reaching up to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand and leaving a sideways trail of lipstick across his jaw. "Good boy," he growls, his own hips bearing down against the bed, desperate for friction. He's...holding it together, still, but only just.
"I am going to weep," he whines, watching Alfred wipe his mouth off. Watching the lipstick smear across his face, leaving him looking wanton. Debauched.
But he fetches the oil and presses it into Alfred's hand, giving him a slightly desperate look. The good boy helps. "I'm being good for you. Yes?"
"Shhhhh, moonlight. Patience, patience. Not much longer now."
He fixes Herbert with an intense, scrutinizing stare as the oil is passed over - and he does not break the eye contact as he pours some out onto his hand, making a show of slicking his slender, work-worn fingers. His smile is dark, crooked, his face flushed, hair wild from where Herbert was yanking it.
"...Very good. And you know what good boys get, don't you?"
His hand flutters down, tracing a little circle around his entrance.
"Rewarded, I hope." He laughs, light and airy. If he could breath, he'd be out of breath and panting by now. But he's grinning up at Alfred. Oh yes, he very much likes this side of Alfred. And hopes to see more of it in the future.
His eyes are trained on Alfred's fingers until they disappear between his thighs, and then they flutter shut at the feeling of featherlight touches. "That's a nice reward."
The light little laugh - in spite of the situation and his current headspace, it warms his heart in his chest. It's...nice, seeing clearly that Herbert is having just as much fun with this as he is.
"You're right, Engel," he purrs, sliding one long finger inside his lover, starting a slow, even push to open him up.
Herbert groans, long and low, and rolls his hips against Alfred's hand. "Oh, please, yes. I will beg you so prettily if you want me to, my love. I am yours, oh Alfred I'm yours."
Because that's what it's all about tonight. Listening to Alfred, doing what Alfred wants, doing what Alfred tells him to do.
As much as Alfred is telling Herbert to have patience, he's starting to struggle to have it himself - especially the way that he's MOANING, the things he's SAYING -
He moans a little himself as he finds a rhythm with the roll of his lover's hips, sliding in a second finger the moment he seems relaxed enough.
"I swear, I could nearly get off just...just listening to you, Engel...like this...."
"Only nearly?" he teases, voice breaking off at the end as Alfred slips a second finger into him. His toes are curling and his heels are digging into the mattress and he's pretty sure he's torn a hole in the pillow he's gripping and he wouldn't change it for the world.
Herbert drags his teeth over his lower lip with a needy noise, rubbing his palms restlessly over the sheets. "Oh I love the way you say that."
Alfred's practically trembling and so is Herbert. Shivering and shuddering with each thrust of his hand and he reaches out to squeeze Alfred's thigh. "I want you inside me, too."
The feeling of Herbert's nails against his stockinged thigh makes him hiss - he winds his hips against nothing, flushed so deeply, watching every move his lover makes, every expression on his beautiful face with rapt attention.
"Then...I should get on with it, shouldn't I?"
The third finger presses in, working to complete the stretch. Soon. Very soon.
"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.
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And so Herbert does, sliding back to lie properly on the bed, leaning up on his elbows, watching Alfred with parted lips.
"You're -- you -- oh Alfred," he sighs, unable to quite form his thoughts into words. How delectable he is like this.
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Climbing onto the bed between Herbert's legs, he kneels over his lover - making a show of sliding one slender hand down into the lacy underwear, fangs bearing in a little hiss of pleasure as he gives himself a few slow strokes.
"You're beautiful, Engel," he rasps, all the while his hand moving, moving, moving just out of sight behind the crimson lace. "Look at what you're doing to me."
"Touch yourself. Slowly. I want - mmnh - to watch you."
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He follows the order, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking as slowly as he's able to manage. "Happily, darling."
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But he isn't. He's taking this slow, very slow. And there's a dark bit of him that really wants to hear Herbert come completely undone.
"...Just like that," he purrs, purposefully pushing against the briefs so Herbert gets just a glimpse of what's happening in there. "A little more, a little faster...nngh - but-" His eyes flash, flicking from Herbert's hand to his face and back again.
"Don't you dare come yet."
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He moves his hand a little faster, but carefully, carefully. Paying attention to his body to make sure he doesn't push himself over the edge. "What -- what happens if I do? What will you do?"
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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."
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That smile is sharp enough to cut, and leaves Herbert squirming a little under Alfred's grip. "Then I'll have to be careful, won't I?"
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This is FUN. He LIKES this, he likes how it's making him feel, how Herbert is responding. Lowering himself down so that their bodies are pressed together, he ruts a couple of times up against him, lacy underwear up against bare, sensitive skin.
He moans loudly at the friction, placing a kiss on Herbert's chest, looking at the mark, getting more ideas still.
"...You will," he growls without looking up, his voice tight with need. He's teasing himself in all this, too.
"The lipstick marks...I think they look nice on your beautiful skin, my moonlight. I...I wonder how they would look just a bit...further down."
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As challenging as that might be. Especially with Alfred moving his mouth further and further down, leaving a trail of lipstick kisses behind.
"I'm certain they would look just as good."
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He's slid down between Herbert's legs now, looking up at him with a dark grin. His hands settle on his lover's inner thighs, lightly digging his filed claws in.
"Let's see."
And then, without another moment of hesitation, he kisses the shaft of Herbert's cock...before sliding it into his mouth, leaving a smear of red lipstick as he goes.
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"Oh you wicked boy."
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But right now? That self-consciousness feels distant, and his purr rumbles deep in his chest as he looks up through his eyelashes, taking Herbert in shallow at first, then bobs his head in closer, leaving little stripes of lipstick higher and higher on his lover's shaft.
It's a dangerous game he's playing right now, and he knows it - it would be easy to bring Herbert off before he means to this way. So he listens carefully, reaches out with his mind to gauge just how wild he's driven the older vampire thus far.
Alfred's own cock, of course, is straining against his underwear, every twitch and grind of his hips making him hiss around Herbert's cock. He's going to have to prepare him, very, VERY soon.
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He keeps his gaze on the canopy overhead, because he knows that if he looks down, if he sees Alfred's lips stretched around his cock like that, bright red and glistening, he'll lose it completely.
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And so, trying to suppress a shudder of his own, he pulls abruptly off of Herbert, reaching up to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand and leaving a sideways trail of lipstick across his jaw. "Good boy," he growls, his own hips bearing down against the bed, desperate for friction. He's...holding it together, still, but only just.
"Engel...get the oil from the nightstand for me."
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But he fetches the oil and presses it into Alfred's hand, giving him a slightly desperate look. The good boy helps. "I'm being good for you. Yes?"
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He fixes Herbert with an intense, scrutinizing stare as the oil is passed over - and he does not break the eye contact as he pours some out onto his hand, making a show of slicking his slender, work-worn fingers. His smile is dark, crooked, his face flushed, hair wild from where Herbert was yanking it.
"...Very good. And you know what good boys get, don't you?"
His hand flutters down, tracing a little circle around his entrance.
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His eyes are trained on Alfred's fingers until they disappear between his thighs, and then they flutter shut at the feeling of featherlight touches. "That's a nice reward."
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"You're right, Engel," he purrs, sliding one long finger inside his lover, starting a slow, even push to open him up.
"And I plan to reward you very, very well."
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Because that's what it's all about tonight. Listening to Alfred, doing what Alfred wants, doing what Alfred tells him to do.
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He moans a little himself as he finds a rhythm with the roll of his lover's hips, sliding in a second finger the moment he seems relaxed enough.
"I swear, I could nearly get off just...just listening to you, Engel...like this...."
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More stretching, gentle, but insistent. Eager. His hand is shaking, his whole body taut with need. Not long now. Herbert is just as eager as he is.
"Not until...I am inside you."
The last words are a rough, hoarse growl, blue eyes flashing with restraint.
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Alfred's practically trembling and so is Herbert. Shivering and shuddering with each thrust of his hand and he reaches out to squeeze Alfred's thigh. "I want you inside me, too."
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"Then...I should get on with it, shouldn't I?"
The third finger presses in, working to complete the stretch. Soon. Very soon.
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"I would like that. Please."
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