Herbert is falling right in line with his part in this, and it...encourages Alfred, that demure edge to his tone spurring another stroke over where his own erection strains against the fabric of his underwear. He groans a little as he stands, crossing the distance between himself and his lover, reaching out to cup his chin with both hands and pull him in for a deep, searching kiss.
After a moment, he pulls back, whispering hoarsely in reply -
The whimper is met with a little chuckle, something a little devious as he watches Herbert move back, sit. Walking up in front of him, Alfred drops to his knees, planting teasing little kisses against calves, knees, inner thighs...getting closer, closer, but never quite touching where he knows it's needed the most.
Occasionally, he looks up at his lover, through the eyelashes Herbert loves so much, eyes blazing.
Every time Alfred comes so close to put his mouth where Herbert wants it and then pulls away at the last moment, Herbert whines helplessly, each noise he makes growing higher and more breathless with need. It's that mischievous little look in Alfred's eyes that pushes him even higher. Wanting to know what comes next.
"I want very much for you to touch me, my love, yes."
There is something...dark, right now, roiling just beneath the surface in Alfred. He tends to be more soft-hearted, less affected by turning than perhaps he could have been - but just after feeding, ESPECIALLY now, after BITING, the shift in his personality is just a little more evident. There's still love in his face, in his touch, blazing bright; but it's accompanied by a possessiveness, a hunger, something wild.
It feels good to play in the space a little, and...he wants to see how far he can push Herbert, exactly.
He nips at his lover's inner thigh, skating his fangs there for a moment before pulling back enough to stand up. He puts one knee up on the bed, stocking-clad, right up against Herbert's cock, applying a little pressure. An invitation, holding his thigh steady.
Herbert parts his lips and drops his head back with a soft gasp. God, hadn't he been fantasizing about Alfred in stockings since that dream? And now one stocking-clad thigh is between his legs and all Herbert can do is move rocking his hips slowly to get that bit of friction going.
"Oh Alfred, you are -- beyond exquisite like this."
A low growl escapes Alfred at the sight of Herbert, naked, grinding himself up against his leg like that - expressing how much he LIKES this. He felt powerful before, just putting all this on, but now...NOW....
Reaching forward, he catches the older vampire's jaw, pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss. Letting him keep grinding just a bit longer, listening for the sounds he's making.
Waiting for juuuuust the right moment to drop the leg away.
Visibly, Alfred shudders at that whine, at the pleading - his own cock throbs a little within the confines of his underwear, and he flashes a mischievous little smile as he reaches down for another lazy little stroke over it.
He's following his instincts, but also thinking about some of the things from the books he had read - pages that had, during his research, had him go from taking notes to gasping breathlessly with one hand in his pants.
It's just a matter of knowing which things to try. For now, he settles on raising one leg to plant a high heel square in the center of Herbert's chest...pushing gently.
"Patience, patience," he growls, scarcely able to believe that's even his own voice. "I want you to want it more than this. Scoot back onto the bed for me."
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.
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After a moment, he pulls back, whispering hoarsely in reply -
"Yes. Sit on the edge of it for me."
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"On the edge," he repeats, dumbly, but does so. His hands gripping the edge of the bed to keep from touching himself, or Alfred.
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Occasionally, he looks up at his lover, through the eyelashes Herbert loves so much, eyes blazing.
"Do you want me to touch you, Engel?"
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"I want very much for you to touch me, my love, yes."
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It feels good to play in the space a little, and...he wants to see how far he can push Herbert, exactly.
He nips at his lover's inner thigh, skating his fangs there for a moment before pulling back enough to stand up. He puts one knee up on the bed, stocking-clad, right up against Herbert's cock, applying a little pressure. An invitation, holding his thigh steady.
"Show me."
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"Oh Alfred, you are -- beyond exquisite like this."
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Reaching forward, he catches the older vampire's jaw, pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss. Letting him keep grinding just a bit longer, listening for the sounds he's making.
Waiting for juuuuust the right moment to drop the leg away.
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"Please, my love. You're teasing me so horribly."
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He's following his instincts, but also thinking about some of the things from the books he had read - pages that had, during his research, had him go from taking notes to gasping breathlessly with one hand in his pants.
It's just a matter of knowing which things to try. For now, he settles on raising one leg to plant a high heel square in the center of Herbert's chest...pushing gently.
"Patience, patience," he growls, scarcely able to believe that's even his own voice. "I want you to want it more than this. Scoot back onto the bed for me."
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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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