"Wonderful," he purrs and stands, pulling Alfred up and into a sweet kiss. "I'm so excited. I can't wait to see what you think of all this." He untucks Alfred's shirt to slip his fingers up underneath and stroke at the skin of his stomach.
It's with no resistance (and only a little whimper as he is climbed off of) that Alfred is led to his feet, shuddering as Herbert's hands slide up against his abs.
"Oh, your - your hands feel so - so different without the nails...."
"They feel different to me, too. Shorter, somehow." He pulls a hand out from under Alfred's shirt to study his rounded off nails with a thoughtful hum. "But if they still feel good to you, I may do this more often." Honestly, he'd do anything that Alfred asked. Even if it meant filing off his nails every night, he would. He could adjust.
"Then every once in a while. For a special treat." He tickles at Alfred's hips and starts undoing his shirt, giving him sweet little kisses. "I'd love to be able to do this with you now and again. It just takes a bit of planning."
"I like that idea," he breathes, squirming under the tickles, the kisses. Enjoying the attention, only a little bit nervous about what's going to happpen.
He trusts Herbert, implicitly. This is just...new.
"I love all the time we spend together. No matter what we're doing."
All those little kisses and nibbles and touches are building, leaving Alfred flushed across the chest and shoulders when he's finally bared. He smiles sweetly, letting Herbert have the reins this time, even moreso than normal.
His hands move to his lover's bare chest, tracing the lines of his pecs, his collarbone. Softly. Learning the shapes, again and again.
"I'm going to be ever so gentle with you tonight," he promises, pushing a stray curl off Alfred's face and kissing his forehead. "Only the softest of touches. And you must swear to tell me to stop, if it's too much. I only want to make you feel good."
"I will, I promise I will," he murmurs, leaning into the kiss, grinning around his crooked little fangs. "I trust you. I...I want to try this. I really do."
"Why don't you finish undressing and hop onto the bed, and I'll meet you there in a moment, hmm?" He tickles under Alfred's chin and nipping his lower lip lightly. He finds those crooked little fangs adorable.
Nodding in agreement - a little too enthusiastic, maybe, after that nip at his lower lip - he obediently works himself out of his trousers, his stockings, and then his briefs, neatly setting them all off to one side. (Tidy, almost always so tidy.)
Climbing onto the bed, he waits there, watching Herbert and twiddling his fingers together with nerves.
Sometimes, he just wants to look at Alfred. Now is one of those times. Naked, hard, spread out on the bed. All for him to take.
Herbert strips quickly and grabs the oil, kneeling between Alfred's legs and starting to oil his fingers up. "Tell me when you need a break, all right?"
This is...well, it's new, and he can't help but be a bit nervous. He trusts Herbert, of course, deeply and dearly, but...there is still a lot he is getting over, in terms of personal repression. It's a challenge.
But he's also excited, watching his lover with wide eyes, licking his lips absently.
"...Yes, I - of course, my moonlight." Almost whispered.
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 -
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"Oh, your - your hands feel so - so different without the nails...."
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He would miss his nails, but he could do it.
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But his voice is fond, so fond. He loves Herbert, loves that he would do something like this for him.
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He trusts Herbert, implicitly. This is just...new.
"I love all the time we spend together. No matter what we're doing."
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But this? This is quite fun, too.
It takes him a bit, between kisses and nibbles, but eventually he does manage to devest the both of them of their shirts.
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All those little kisses and nibbles and touches are building, leaving Alfred flushed across the chest and shoulders when he's finally bared. He smiles sweetly, letting Herbert have the reins this time, even moreso than normal.
His hands move to his lover's bare chest, tracing the lines of his pecs, his collarbone. Softly. Learning the shapes, again and again.
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Climbing onto the bed, he waits there, watching Herbert and twiddling his fingers together with nerves.
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Herbert strips quickly and grabs the oil, kneeling between Alfred's legs and starting to oil his fingers up. "Tell me when you need a break, all right?"
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But he's also excited, watching his lover with wide eyes, licking his lips absently.
"...Yes, I - of course, my moonlight." Almost whispered.
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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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