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.
His fingers pulse in and out, trying to stay steady but shaking a little with restraint. Alfred swallows hard, mouth dry, panting uselessly with his mouth hanging a little open. Just about time, but - before he finally gives in -
"...I think you can ask me even more nicely, though." He crooks his fingers upward, increasing the pressure very, very slowly. His eyes flash a little as he watches for Herbert's reaction, his voice going so dark, so rough, echoing in Herbert's mind even as he speaks the words aloud-
"Oh please -- " Alfred's fingers are rubbing against just the right spot, and Herbert feels sparks of pleasure rolling up his spine. He tries pressing his palms flat against the mattress, tries to be good and not touch, but his fingers curl against the sheets, nails digging holes into them.
"Alfred, my love. My sun and stars, you are driving me absolutely mad. Please, please, let me feel you. All of you. I need you inside me so badly."
"Good boy," he snarls, but his voice shakes a little - it's taking everything in him not to drop all pretense and press in, just TAKE -
But he can hang on for long enough to do this right, at least. Satisfied with how stretched Herbert is, he pulls out, pulls back so that he can finally free himself from the lace panties - and then he climbs around his lover, sitting back against the headboard, fingers white-knuckled where they grip the wood.
"...Time for that reward," he purrs, writhing a little as if he's holding himself back. "Climb on."
Oh. Alfred stretched out on the bed, cock hard and straining against his stomach, lace stockings showing off his long, well muscled legs, is a vision. He takes just a short moment to appreciate the sight of him before straddling Alfred's hips.
His hand grips the headboard next to where Alfred's hand is, and he braces his hand against Alfred's chest as he slowly, s l o w l y takes Alfred's cock into him. Sinking down inch by agonizing inch until he's fully seated and gasping.
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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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His fingers pulse in and out, trying to stay steady but shaking a little with restraint. Alfred swallows hard, mouth dry, panting uselessly with his mouth hanging a little open. Just about time, but - before he finally gives in -
"...I think you can ask me even more nicely, though." He crooks his fingers upward, increasing the pressure very, very slowly. His eyes flash a little as he watches for Herbert's reaction, his voice going so dark, so rough, echoing in Herbert's mind even as he speaks the words aloud-
"BEG me, my moonlight."
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"Alfred, my love. My sun and stars, you are driving me absolutely mad. Please, please, let me feel you. All of you. I need you inside me so badly."
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"Good boy," he snarls, but his voice shakes a little - it's taking everything in him not to drop all pretense and press in, just TAKE -
But he can hang on for long enough to do this right, at least. Satisfied with how stretched Herbert is, he pulls out, pulls back so that he can finally free himself from the lace panties - and then he climbs around his lover, sitting back against the headboard, fingers white-knuckled where they grip the wood.
"...Time for that reward," he purrs, writhing a little as if he's holding himself back. "Climb on."
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His hand grips the headboard next to where Alfred's hand is, and he braces his hand against Alfred's chest as he slowly, s l o w l y takes Alfred's cock into him. Sinking down inch by agonizing inch until he's fully seated and gasping.
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