Obediently, without a second thought, he moves as he is directed. He's not really sure what Georg is doing for a moment, watching, listening....
And then he Realizes, and bright blue eyes widen, mouth going a little slack. That's...a new one. Herbert hasn't even done that yet - Alfred has really only read about it in books. He has no idea what to expect.
But he does trust Georg.
So, breathlessly, wordlessly, he nods, licking his lips, trying not to drool a little around the fangs that are still descended.
"Perfect." Georg flashes him a grin and lowers his head between Alfred's spread thighs. He licks broadly a few times at first, letting Alfred get used to the sensation of having a tongue on one of the most intimate parts of him.
Once he's done that, however, he focuses in. Moving his tongue in tight circles. "Take yourself in hand," he croons, nipping lightly at the flesh of Alfred's ass. "Stroke yourself, if you'd like."
The first lick makes him arch his back a little, head lolling as he groans - it's...a very new feeling, but...but he likes it, likes the attention, likes the glimpse of the Count down between his thighs.
By the time the words reach him, he's started a near-constant moan that he barely realizes is falling from his lips - and, eagerly, almost desperately, he wraps his callused fingers around his own cock, starting to stroke himself in a clumsy, shaky rhythm. His muscles start to go a bit taut, the sounds he's making occasionally slanting more towards a low growl, a feral hiss.
It's perfect. It's beautiful. Delicious. There are not enough words to describe the way Alfred looks like this. Muscles taut, hand stuttering over his cock. And oh, the noises he makes. Georg groans and ruts his hips into the mattress.
He's hard. Achingly so. But that's secondary to driving Alfred absolutely mad. He redoubles his efforts and delves his tongue into Alfred, licking deep. Curling his tongue inside him with a pleased moan.
The deeper Georg goes, the more Alfred writhes, the more his hand loses rhythm but gains speed where it's working his cock. He keeps glancing down, looking at Georg, seeing him there and struck by how DIFFERENT this is than being with Herbert, how different he himself feels -
And he lets out a whimper, seeing the older vampire rutting himself against the bed. There's something about it that's just so - familiar, perhaps, a desperation he wasn't expecting to catch a glimpse of.
He's definitely starting to want more than just a tongue inside him.
He grips Alfred's hips hard. Hard enough to leave bruises, if Alfred's skin could still bruise. He moans, deep and wanton at the taste of Alfred on his tongue, the way he's opening him to him so easily, letting his tongue slide deep.
His hips move restlessly against the bed now, but he'd promised himself -- not that far. Not yet. Not this first time.
Oh, Georg is - very good with his tongue, Alfred is learning all too quickly. His moans are rising in pitch, in volume, and the working of his hand keeps picking up speed, finding its way to a rhythm.
The way Georg is moaning, grinding, all it does is push the young man further, whimpering as he can feel the edge approaching with every plunge of his current partner's tongue.
"Mmhmm." It's a low noise, vibrating against Alfred's skin. It's permission granted, an allowance to let go. To find his release, at last. He digs his fingers into the flesh of Alfred's ass, kneading it as he curls his tongue.
That's it. That hum, that deep lick, the feeling of Georg's long nails against the skin of his ass, the desperate working of his own hand around his cock - everything culminates together all at once, and Alfred practically roars, body going rigid as he comes hard into his palm.
It takes him a minute before he starts to relax a little, shuddering, blue eyes half-lidded as he looks down to the Count.
He still can't...quite believe this is happening, but...well.
Every lick makes the younger man twitch, hissing under the attentions, under the IDEA of what's happening - his mind keeps wandering back to that dream, as much as he tries to keep it away.
"Th-thank you...."
But here he isn't being discarded. Georg wraps up and around him, and he swallows hard, leaning into his touch. After a moment or two, he finally asks -
"Such a sweet boy, to ask." He very clearly still is, given the way he's wrapped around Alfred, the hardness of him pressed against Alfred's thigh.
Georg continues to run his fingers through Alfred's hair, watching his face curiously. To see what he'll do next. "This experience was about you, and your pleasure. Did you find it pleasurable?"
Alfred is still trembling with aftershock, flushed across his face and chest, shivering in Georg's arms.
The older vampire is still very aroused - he can feel it, but moreover, he can SMELL the lust on him; a part of his senses he still hasn't quite adjusted to yet.
As much as Georg insists this was about him, that darker part of Alfred has been stoked, something greedy that insists they needn't be done.
And so, experimentally, he shifts a little, openly grinding that thigh into Georg in a slow, firm press.
Georg gives a surprised gasp, dropping his forehead against Alfred's shoulder. The hand in his hair tugs lightly, and the one at Alfred's chest pauses in its slow stroking to press into the flesh under his fingers.
"Greedy boy," he purrs, mouthing at Alfred's jaw. "Haven't had your fill, have you?"
The tug in his hair makes him hiss - but more than that, the way that he feels when he knows he's playing with fire. He doesn't stop the grinding, trying to push Georg, see what he'll do. Being called greedy like that feels....
Good.
A little bit like he felt at the end of that dream, really.
"...Maybe I haven't," he whispers, placing his hand against Georg's side and running it down, down, down to dig fingers into his hip.
"Touch me, then. My beautiful Alfred, let me feel your fingers. I crave your touch." He drags his tongue along the line of Alfred's neck, up to suck a kiss onto his pulsepoint.
Whatever he's awakened in Alfred, he likes it. The wandering hands, the dark tone in his voice. He rocks against Alfred's thigh with another low noise, nipping at the curve of Alfred's ear. "Touch me to your heart's content."
The permission is all he needed - he groans at the kisses, the graze of fangs, and it all urges him on.
His long, callused fingers slide further, under Georg's waistband, wrapping around the length of him in a firm, decisive grip.
This will be easier with his pants off, but - he figures he can encourage the other man to want to take them off before too long. He pumps his hand a little, slow strokes. Teasing.
Alfred is well aware that he's building back to arousal again - but he doesn't care. He finds himself wanting more, wanting to continue, to lose himself in a different sort of way with Georg than he does with Herbert. He can be embarrassed about it later.
"I don't know," he purrs, keeping his pace as steady as he can. "Do you want to beg?"
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And then he Realizes, and bright blue eyes widen, mouth going a little slack. That's...a new one. Herbert hasn't even done that yet - Alfred has really only read about it in books. He has no idea what to expect.
But he does trust Georg.
So, breathlessly, wordlessly, he nods, licking his lips, trying not to drool a little around the fangs that are still descended.
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Once he's done that, however, he focuses in. Moving his tongue in tight circles. "Take yourself in hand," he croons, nipping lightly at the flesh of Alfred's ass. "Stroke yourself, if you'd like."
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The first lick makes him arch his back a little, head lolling as he groans - it's...a very new feeling, but...but he likes it, likes the attention, likes the glimpse of the Count down between his thighs.
By the time the words reach him, he's started a near-constant moan that he barely realizes is falling from his lips - and, eagerly, almost desperately, he wraps his callused fingers around his own cock, starting to stroke himself in a clumsy, shaky rhythm. His muscles start to go a bit taut, the sounds he's making occasionally slanting more towards a low growl, a feral hiss.
Letting go.
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He's hard. Achingly so. But that's secondary to driving Alfred absolutely mad. He redoubles his efforts and delves his tongue into Alfred, licking deep. Curling his tongue inside him with a pleased moan.
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And he lets out a whimper, seeing the older vampire rutting himself against the bed. There's something about it that's just so - familiar, perhaps, a desperation he wasn't expecting to catch a glimpse of.
He's definitely starting to want more than just a tongue inside him.
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His hips move restlessly against the bed now, but he'd promised himself -- not that far. Not yet. Not this first time.
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The way Georg is moaning, grinding, all it does is push the young man further, whimpering as he can feel the edge approaching with every plunge of his current partner's tongue.
"G-Georg - oh, Georg, I'm - I'm-!"
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It takes him a minute before he starts to relax a little, shuddering, blue eyes half-lidded as he looks down to the Count.
He still can't...quite believe this is happening, but...well.
He had dreamed about it once, after all.
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Then he moves up the bed to curl around him protectively, stroking his hair. "You did so well for me. I'm so proud of you, my sweet Alfred."
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"Th-thank you...."
But here he isn't being discarded. Georg wraps up and around him, and he swallows hard, leaning into his touch. After a moment or two, he finally asks -
"...A-aren't you...still...ah....?"
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Georg continues to run his fingers through Alfred's hair, watching his face curiously. To see what he'll do next. "This experience was about you, and your pleasure. Did you find it pleasurable?"
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Alfred is still trembling with aftershock, flushed across his face and chest, shivering in Georg's arms.
The older vampire is still very aroused - he can feel it, but moreover, he can SMELL the lust on him; a part of his senses he still hasn't quite adjusted to yet.
As much as Georg insists this was about him, that darker part of Alfred has been stoked, something greedy that insists they needn't be done.
And so, experimentally, he shifts a little, openly grinding that thigh into Georg in a slow, firm press.
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"Greedy boy," he purrs, mouthing at Alfred's jaw. "Haven't had your fill, have you?"
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Good.
A little bit like he felt at the end of that dream, really.
"...Maybe I haven't," he whispers, placing his hand against Georg's side and running it down, down, down to dig fingers into his hip.
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Whatever he's awakened in Alfred, he likes it. The wandering hands, the dark tone in his voice. He rocks against Alfred's thigh with another low noise, nipping at the curve of Alfred's ear. "Touch me to your heart's content."
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His long, callused fingers slide further, under Georg's waistband, wrapping around the length of him in a firm, decisive grip.
This will be easier with his pants off, but - he figures he can encourage the other man to want to take them off before too long. He pumps his hand a little, slow strokes. Teasing.
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"Must I endure the same treatment I gave you?" he wonders aloud. "Will you have me beg?"
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"I don't know," he purrs, keeping his pace as steady as he can. "Do you want to beg?"