Standing back up, he sets the shirt aside, hanging it up. He glances shyly to Herbert for a moment before setting to more of his undressing. First he slips out of his boots, setting them aside...then go the socks, rolled down his (toned, so toned) legs and set aside.
Then go the pants, unbuttoned and stepped out of.
Lucky for Herbert, Alfred is a briefs man, clean and rosy pink, and his patience in staying his own hand is rewarded with a much better view.
"Oh, you torture me." Herbert sits on the ledge that surrounds the tub, crossing his legs at the ankles and pressing his hand to his mouth while he watches Alfred slowly reveal most of the rest of himself.
"Shall I turn away while you slip into the bath? To preserve your modesty."
Alfred turns around for a moment, confusion on his face - but then he realizes the meaning, and he blushes deeply, feebly wrapping his hands over his bare chest.
Not over the more salient thing, though. The contour to the front of those briefs certainly doesn't make him look as tiny and unassuming as his usual manner of dress would lead one to believe.
"...Yes, please," he stammers, clearly overwhelmed, but very much wanting to get in the water.
He makes a show of covering his eyes and turning his back to Alfred, to let the poor boy preserve a little bit of modesty. He's seen enough to whet his appetite, certainly.
"Let me know when it's safe to turn back. I'll wash your hair for you."
Wiggling himself out of the briefs once he knows he's in the clear, he finally climbs into the tub with a little splash - and letting out a little moan of relief at the feeling of the warm water.
Not thinking too hard about how that moan is gonna sound to someone not looking.
After a moment of settling in (and making sure the bubbles are obscuring him) he clears his throat softly before, timidly:
Herbert turns back around, resting his arms on the edge of the tub and his chin on his arms, watching Alfred fondly. "Hey ho. Do you feel warmer now? More relaxed?"
The little greeting is met with a nervous chuckle - but it's a friendly one, this time, a little less scared. He looks back at Herbert, briefly...actually meeting his eyes.
And then looking away, like something he thought startled him.
"Mmhmm. It's...it's much better. Thank you." The scent of roses is filling the air, the grime from the muddy snow outside washing away to little more than a bad memory.
"I'll wash your hair for you, shall I?" He moves around to situate himself in a better position to do so, pushing up his sleeves. "After the night you've had, you could use a little pampering," Herbert explains, carefully cupping water in his hands and pouring it over Alfred's hair, running his fingers through his hair to get it properly wet.
"I have the most marvelous shampoos. I take great pride in my hair, after all."
"Th-thank you. Your hair is very...it's very nice. And shiny. I can tell you take c-care o-o-"
All at once, Alfred's words sort of dissolve at the feeling of Herbert's fingers running through his hair. He goes very quiet, but not with terror this time...no, he is, at present, being surprised by Something Else.
Something that makes him let out a sort of high, keening whine in the back of his throat, a flush rising over his ears, his shoulders, his chest.
At first he worries he's hurt the poor boy somehow, but he realizes that that is not a pained noise. And that adorable blush might not be from the heat of the water.
"Oh-oh," Herbert singsongs, gently scratching his nails over Alfred's scalp. He takes his hands away for only a moment to pour shampoo into them, then starts working the lather through Alfred's hair with a grin. "I think I've hit upon something."
He tries to respond in that little space between touches when shampoo is being obtained, he really does - but the sensation of the nails over his scalp drives all sense from him, another strained groan catching in his throat and rumbling a little in his chest. No one has ever washed his hair for him like this before, and he is rapidly learning that it feels...good.
Very good.
Thank goodness for the bubbles in the bath, he thinks, as he tries desperately to find some kind of composure.
"You've never had anyone wash your hair before, I take it." He tries to keep his voice light, but a bit of teasing creeps into his tone. How could it not? When Alfred is so... teasable.
He gently massages the shampoo into Alfred's hair, perhaps going a little more slowly than necessary. Really luxuriating in the act of touching Alfred like this. "Does that feel good?" he purrs near Alfred's ear.
The slow touches are making him squirm, and he is most definitely losing the fight to keep Certain Thoughts at bay. That would be enough, really, but the purr in his ear - he can't help himself, his eyes fluttering shut, the sound that comes out no longer a whine, but a low, very lewd moan.
He bites his lip, completely forgetting that he still has yet to retract the second fang and sending a little blood running down his chin.
Well, he's gonna be embarrassed about this once he gets his wits back in a minute or two.
"And now you're grown. Such a big strong man." He trails just the tips of his nails lightly over Alfred's neck, enjoying the noises he's able to elicit from him.
"Tip your head back for me, mon cheri. I'll wash all the shampoo out for you." He squeezes Alfred's shoulder, so, so tempted to lean in and lick that blood off his chin.
Nope, that's it, he can't recover from this. Somewhere in the back of his head, he's mortified that he is completely hard under the layer of bubbly water - it's really all he can do not to touch himself, given that Herbert's hearing would most CERTAINLY pick up on the splashing that would happen.
So now he has to just...live with that, breathing heavily and saying nothing as he keeps his eyes shut and tilts back his head obediently.
He's being teased, he gets that. But the way it feels....
He carefully pours more water over Alfred's hair, working his fingers through it. Massaging his scalp gently, trailing his nails down over his neck and shoulders before moving back up to his head.
Herbert can practically smell the lust coming off of Alfred. The sheer need and want in the expression on his face, the way he's breathing. Herbert wants him. Wants to climb into the tub and just --
Oh, this is getting unbearable. No matter how hard he tries to ignore it, every touch, every little scratch of Herbert's nails against his scalp, his neck sends a thrill of heat down through him, the breaths his body still needs to take for now coming in low, shuddering thrums.
He just - he can't help it. He feels more hot blooded than he did before, maybe, or maybe there's another reason -
But slowly, trying to be subtle about it, he slides a hand across the bottom of the tub, making his way towards touching. He opens his eyes a little, heavy and half-lidded, face flushed, lips parted and still bleeding, gazing up at Herbert....
It's too much. How is he meant to resist all that? The blood on his lips, that sultry, half lidded gaze. The beautiful way his pale skin pinkens. Herbert shucks his shirt aside, barely making it out of his trousers before he's in the tub and straddling Alfred.
He smears his thumb through the blood on Alfred's lips and licks it off with moan of relief and pleasure. Finally able to taste some part of him. "I want very badly to kiss you right now, my sweet Alfred." Since the boy probably deserves some sort of warning before Herbert descends upon him.
Everything happens so fast, he almost can't parse it - one moment he's trying to sneak his hand around himself, the next Herbert is naked and sliding into the water over him. Panicked, he moves his hand away, twitching and hissing at the barest graze of pale thigh against his erection.
It frightens him a little, watching the vampire lick his blood from his finger like that...but it's not entirely as offputting as it had been before.
This is...so much, so fast, and his words aren't working, but he's being asked for consent and -
"...O-okay." Tiny, scared, shy...but hoarse with arousal all the same, eyes locked upon Herbert's, falling into them.
It's happened so quickly that his socks are still on, but it's fine. It's all wonderful because Alfred said yes and Hebert cards a hand through his hair, gripping the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss.
He groans at the taste of blood, at the taste of Alfred underneath the blood, at the feeling of Alfred's muscular little body underneath his own, the scent of roses in the air. "I've been wanting to do that since I first saw you out in the snow," he sighs against Alfred's mouth.
Oh...wow. The kiss is - it's overwhelming, but it's warm, it's nice (even with that stupid snaggletoothed fang in the way), and the way Herbert works a hand through his hair has him groaning against his lips. He doesn't so much reciprocate just yet, but he doesn't pull away...in fact, he writhes a little under the larger man, shuddering as he feels himself grind against skin still a little chilly through the warm water.
He pants, anxiety and lust fighting a battle on his face.
"...Y-you mean...wh-when I was...looking...for - mnh - the P-Professor...?"
"Mmhm." He strokes his fingers over Alfred's cheeks, nodding faintly, brushing their lips together lightly. "I saw you out there, with the snowflakes stuck to your beautiful lashes. With your scarf around your head to keep your ears warm, and all I wanted to do was bundle you up and take you home. But Father said I ought to wait, and invite you to the ball instead.
I'm so glad you're here, now. And I'm going to take such good care of you."
Part of him finds that thought absolutely terrifying - the thought of being marked before he even knew it, strung along like a little puppet until he was where Herbert had wanted him. Was there any choice? What if they hadn't gone after Sarah, would he have been kidnapped?
...But the other part of him...is a little bit flattered, strangely. Standing out there in the snow, he had worried about being forgotten if the Professor was gone. Now here's someone who had seen him then...and had wanted HIM.
It's confusing, and he looks Herbert in the eyes again, starting to tremble a little anew. His mouth feels dry, and he swallows audibly, trying with all his might to keep his hips still, not to just start grinding, not to reach out because - because it's soon, it's fast, he had only just learned being with another man was even an OPTION for him, and even if he HAD known that, he's never even -
A little whine escapes him, and he suddenly tilts his head, burying his face in Herbert's neck, embarrassed.
"Oh you beautiful, lovely, wonderful boy," Herbert coos, and strokes his hair gently, wrapping an arm around him to hold him close. They can take this slow, he tells himself. Alfred has never been with a man before, after all. And he's only just been turned. So much is so new for the poor thing.
He's not sure what would have happened, if they hadn't come to the castle to rescue Sarah. Perhaps Herbert would have gone to him in the night, as Georg had with Sarah. Tried to lure him out somehow. To coax him into coming to the ball with him.
For now, he strokes his hand over the back of Alfred's neck, his shoulder, over his -- oh, very lovely -- bicep. "You could kiss me, if you wanted. Or we could get out of the tub and lie together in bed until we have to go down to the crypt."
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.
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Standing back up, he sets the shirt aside, hanging it up. He glances shyly to Herbert for a moment before setting to more of his undressing. First he slips out of his boots, setting them aside...then go the socks, rolled down his (toned, so toned) legs and set aside.
Then go the pants, unbuttoned and stepped out of.
Lucky for Herbert, Alfred is a briefs man, clean and rosy pink, and his patience in staying his own hand is rewarded with a much better view.
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"Shall I turn away while you slip into the bath? To preserve your modesty."
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Alfred turns around for a moment, confusion on his face - but then he realizes the meaning, and he blushes deeply, feebly wrapping his hands over his bare chest.
Not over the more salient thing, though. The contour to the front of those briefs certainly doesn't make him look as tiny and unassuming as his usual manner of dress would lead one to believe.
"...Yes, please," he stammers, clearly overwhelmed, but very much wanting to get in the water.
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"Let me know when it's safe to turn back. I'll wash your hair for you."
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Wiggling himself out of the briefs once he knows he's in the clear, he finally climbs into the tub with a little splash - and letting out a little moan of relief at the feeling of the warm water.
Not thinking too hard about how that moan is gonna sound to someone not looking.
After a moment of settling in (and making sure the bubbles are obscuring him) he clears his throat softly before, timidly:
"Okay. I'm - it's safe."
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And then looking away, like something he thought startled him.
"Mmhmm. It's...it's much better. Thank you." The scent of roses is filling the air, the grime from the muddy snow outside washing away to little more than a bad memory.
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"I have the most marvelous shampoos. I take great pride in my hair, after all."
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All at once, Alfred's words sort of dissolve at the feeling of Herbert's fingers running through his hair. He goes very quiet, but not with terror this time...no, he is, at present, being surprised by Something Else.
Something that makes him let out a sort of high, keening whine in the back of his throat, a flush rising over his ears, his shoulders, his chest.
Uh oh.
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"Oh-oh," Herbert singsongs, gently scratching his nails over Alfred's scalp. He takes his hands away for only a moment to pour shampoo into them, then starts working the lather through Alfred's hair with a grin. "I think I've hit upon something."
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He tries to respond in that little space between touches when shampoo is being obtained, he really does - but the sensation of the nails over his scalp drives all sense from him, another strained groan catching in his throat and rumbling a little in his chest. No one has ever washed his hair for him like this before, and he is rapidly learning that it feels...good.
Very good.
Thank goodness for the bubbles in the bath, he thinks, as he tries desperately to find some kind of composure.
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He gently massages the shampoo into Alfred's hair, perhaps going a little more slowly than necessary. Really luxuriating in the act of touching Alfred like this. "Does that feel good?" he purrs near Alfred's ear.
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The slow touches are making him squirm, and he is most definitely losing the fight to keep Certain Thoughts at bay. That would be enough, really, but the purr in his ear - he can't help himself, his eyes fluttering shut, the sound that comes out no longer a whine, but a low, very lewd moan.
He bites his lip, completely forgetting that he still has yet to retract the second fang and sending a little blood running down his chin.
Well, he's gonna be embarrassed about this once he gets his wits back in a minute or two.
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"Tip your head back for me, mon cheri. I'll wash all the shampoo out for you." He squeezes Alfred's shoulder, so, so tempted to lean in and lick that blood off his chin.
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So now he has to just...live with that, breathing heavily and saying nothing as he keeps his eyes shut and tilts back his head obediently.
He's being teased, he gets that. But the way it feels....
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Herbert can practically smell the lust coming off of Alfred. The sheer need and want in the expression on his face, the way he's breathing. Herbert wants him. Wants to climb into the tub and just --
But no. He'll wait. He'll be good.
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He just - he can't help it. He feels more hot blooded than he did before, maybe, or maybe there's another reason -
But slowly, trying to be subtle about it, he slides a hand across the bottom of the tub, making his way towards touching. He opens his eyes a little, heavy and half-lidded, face flushed, lips parted and still bleeding, gazing up at Herbert....
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He smears his thumb through the blood on Alfred's lips and licks it off with moan of relief and pleasure. Finally able to taste some part of him. "I want very badly to kiss you right now, my sweet Alfred." Since the boy probably deserves some sort of warning before Herbert descends upon him.
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It frightens him a little, watching the vampire lick his blood from his finger like that...but it's not entirely as offputting as it had been before.
This is...so much, so fast, and his words aren't working, but he's being asked for consent and -
"...O-okay." Tiny, scared, shy...but hoarse with arousal all the same, eyes locked upon Herbert's, falling into them.
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He groans at the taste of blood, at the taste of Alfred underneath the blood, at the feeling of Alfred's muscular little body underneath his own, the scent of roses in the air. "I've been wanting to do that since I first saw you out in the snow," he sighs against Alfred's mouth.
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He pants, anxiety and lust fighting a battle on his face.
"...Y-you mean...wh-when I was...looking...for - mnh - the P-Professor...?"
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I'm so glad you're here, now. And I'm going to take such good care of you."
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Part of him finds that thought absolutely terrifying - the thought of being marked before he even knew it, strung along like a little puppet until he was where Herbert had wanted him. Was there any choice? What if they hadn't gone after Sarah, would he have been kidnapped?
...But the other part of him...is a little bit flattered, strangely. Standing out there in the snow, he had worried about being forgotten if the Professor was gone. Now here's someone who had seen him then...and had wanted HIM.
It's confusing, and he looks Herbert in the eyes again, starting to tremble a little anew. His mouth feels dry, and he swallows audibly, trying with all his might to keep his hips still, not to just start grinding, not to reach out because - because it's soon, it's fast, he had only just learned being with another man was even an OPTION for him, and even if he HAD known that, he's never even -
A little whine escapes him, and he suddenly tilts his head, burying his face in Herbert's neck, embarrassed.
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He's not sure what would have happened, if they hadn't come to the castle to rescue Sarah. Perhaps Herbert would have gone to him in the night, as Georg had with Sarah. Tried to lure him out somehow. To coax him into coming to the ball with him.
For now, he strokes his hand over the back of Alfred's neck, his shoulder, over his -- oh, very lovely -- bicep. "You could kiss me, if you wanted. Or we could get out of the tub and lie together in bed until we have to go down to the crypt."
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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.
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