"I do, yes. We started collecting more of them after I was turned. When I always needed to know the time, to know when sunrise was.
Because I was the one with the need for the clocks, I took it upon myself to learn how to keep up with them. I have dozens of manuals for all sorts of clocks, just in case. I find the process quite soothing, really."
OH, THAT'S WHY THERE ARE SO MANY CLOCKS. Alfred had gotten used to them by now, but had never asked, chalking it up to one of Georg's eccentricities. Knowing the reason, it all makes perfect sense.
So much of what Georg is is like a mystery he's unraveling, bit by bit. Enticing. Fascinating.
"That's remarkable - you must have such a delicate touch."
"It took a few decades and some broken clocks before I was able to properly care for them. But I do like to think I have a delicate touch with them, now."
He glances down with a slight smirk. "Perhaps you can tell me how delicate my touch is."
It takes Alfred's everything not to fumble the braid at that little comment. Grateful that he's standing behind Georg, he flushes quite red, voice turning just a little bashful.
"Ah, w-well, it's-" His voice cracks, and mentally, he curses himself a little. He clears his throat.
"It can be...very delicate, when you want it to be."
"I only tease, my marvelous boy, because I think you turn the most fetching shade of red when you're flustered. It's quite flattering."
What he won't say, is that he and Herbert have spoken extensively on the subject of Alfred's blush. How it trails down his chest in the most alluring way and makes them both want to follow it with fingers and mouths.
No, he'll concentrate instead on the gentle way Alfred's fingers work through his hair.
Yes, he's that shade of red now, he expects. And he's feeling a bit hot under the collar, as it were. Alfred tries to focus on the braid, keeping the twists smooth and sleek before tying it off at the end.
"...There! All done." He smiles, leaning a little over Georg's shoulder. "How does it feel?"
Georg reaches up to touch his hair. It feels... nice, for once. Clean. Cared for. Not merely quickly and carelessly brushed through as he does most evenings but well maintained.
"I feel... handsome." He sounds surprised, but pleasantly so.
At this, Alfred beams - hearing Georg say something nice about himself? Worth every bit of effort.
"You look handsome, Georg. I've never seen your hair back before, and you have such graceful features-"
Absently, he runs a long finger over the contour of his ear, moving down his jaw a bit before he seems to Realize and he gently pulls back with a little laugh. "Ah - sorry. Got a little carried away. But - but you look lovely. And I know Sarah will think so, too."
Georg laughs softly, slightly self conscious, and takes Alfred's hand to kiss the palm. "You can touch, if you'd like. I don't mind. I like it. The way you appreciate me."
Sarah's touches are always greedy, wanting, needing. Alfred touches simply to touch. It's refreshing.
"Does having my hair back show off my graceful features, then?"
Moving around the bench, he straddles it, turning so that he can beckon for Georg to face him. Gently, he reaches out, gently starting again to trace the lines of the other man's face, his jaw, his cheekbones, even the line of his neck over his collar.
He doesn't touch the edge of the scars, peeking out on pale skin. He's seen them, when Georg has had his shirt open or off, but...something about them, about focusing on them makes Alfred uneasy. Disjointed little images, sounds. A strange clicking. A dark laugh. The scent of earth.
Georg will tell him, someday, he's sure, when he is ready.
For now, Alfred just smiles, voice thoughtful. "...It does. You have such nice bone structure, and - your skin is pale, yes, but...but smooth, and soft. I think you're beautiful."
Georg turns to straddle the bench as well, his thighs bracketing Alfred's so he can sit closely. To let Alfred touch him as he pleases. He holds very still as the boy does so, stiffening ever so slightly when Alfred's fingers near his collar and relaxing when they move away again.
"I suppose I never truly let myself think about how I look very often. Or how I feel, to that point. I don't... care for myself. Not like Herbert does. Perhaps I ought to." Though his tone is still tentative. Unsure of whether or not he's worth such things. Deserving of them.
When first they had met, the older vampire had seemed so...untouchable, really. Aloof. But now here they are, fine features and poised stillness just under Alfred's gentle, searching fingertips. The anxiety around the collar doesn't go unnoticed. He doesn't press.
"I think you should," he murmurs, leaning a little closer, eyes bright as he looks up into Georg's. "I would - I would like it, if you did. It doesn't have to be a lot, at first, just...little steps."
He reaches out to take his hands, regarding the unkempt nails with a soft, understanding little smile.
"Like your hair, and...maybe these, just a little, if you'll let me."
He jerks his hands away at first, out of instinct. Out of embarrassment, knowing that Alfred is looking at his nails. Those terrible claws of his. His hands can bring pleasure, yes, but also so much pain. And they aren't neatly kept. Not like Herbert's are. He doesn't file them, has never bothered trying to paint them or cover up what they truly are.
Weapons, meant for hunting prey.
But, slowly, he offers his hands to Alfred again. His voice quiet, barely above a whisper. "I would let you."
When Georg pulls away, Alfred just watches him, gentle and patient - he feels that moment of anxiety lance through the other man, that want to recede. It had been a risky thing for him to do.
...But then he offers them again, and the boy's heart leaps a little, eyes misting at the whisper. A tiny thing, it would appear to someone else.
But for Georg? For Georg he knows what kind of trust this requires. How hard it must be.
Smiling softly, he lifts both hands up, placing little kisses at the knuckles.
"Thank you for trusting me," he whispers, trying not to sniffle.
Deeply touched, Alfred grins one of his lopsided grins at the older vampire - He takes both of Georg's hands and pulls them towards him, resting them flat against his chest. Echoes of when they had met, of when he had been terrified, his heart beating like a rabbit's under Georg's touch. Now there is no heartbeat, no shiver...and, as the boy lets his guard down, opens his mind a little, lets him in, there is no fear, either.
There's only love.
A slender hand reaches up to wipe a tear away.
"I'm glad. Because I really don't think you are one. And I...I haven't, for a long time." A moment of hesitation. Perhaps it's...time to come clean.
"Not...not since...I saw you in the graveyard. Before the ball."
Georg looks momentarily horrified, and then ashamed, his fingers curling against Alfred's chest. Embarrassed at being caught out in one of his most vulnerable moments.
He ducks his head and wishes his hair was down so he could hide behind it. But he supposes there is no real hiding from Alfred. Nor should he need to.
"I'm so sorry you saw me like that. An old, lonely creature railing uselessly against the fate the gods put upon him."
The hand that had been wiping the tear away gently wraps under his chin, lifting it so Alfred can look him in the eye. Still smiling. Still reassuring.
"Don't be sorry. I'm...glad I saw it. I'm glad. Up until that moment, I was still so afraid of you. I still believed what the Professor was saying, and - and he was trying to get me to work up the nerve to...to do something...terrible." Momentarily, his eyes lower in shame. The meaning is clear enough.
"But when I saw you like that, I...felt like I was seeing you for the first time. The real you. Not the Thing the Professor insisted you were.
That was the first time I saw YOU."
He looks back up.
"And that's also why the stakes and crucifixes were missing from the bag when we got to the ball. Because I...threw them off the castle."
"You're far too good to have killed me in the crypt," he agrees, reaching out to cup his hand over Alfred's cheek.
When he hears about the stakes and crucifixes being thrown away, he can't help but smile a little. Such a good boy, his Alfred. So sweet, and kind, and understanding. Willing to see him at his worst and think of him at his best.
"How can I thank you? For being willing to love this -- this animal. For being willing to see me as more than some horrid creature who has done nothing but tear apart what he loves most?"
"I couldn't have done it. I just couldn't have. You were just...you were sleeping. It would have been so cruel. I...I still have nightmares about it, sometimes. About what would have happened." He shivers, leaning into Georg's hand.
"You don't have to thank me, Georg. Love is - confusing, and it's strange, and it's unexpected but...it just is. And there aren't conditions for it.
If you have to thank me somehow...you can do that by just...LETTING me love you."
"But you didn't. And now, here we are. Taking care of my hair." He strokes his thumb over Alfred's cheek, looking at him with the most deeply fond expression.
He sighs and leans in to brush his lips against against Alfred's forehead. "I want to let you love me. It's... difficult for me, at times. To open myself up to that."
Alfred smiles at the gentle motion, leaning into it a little - the fondness in Georg's face echoed right back. The little kiss has him sighing, and his hands snake back and over the older vampire's shoulders.
"I am a patient man, Georg. I know it will take time. It's...okay. It means the world to me, that you would try."
He's growing more used to this. These little touches. This soft gifts of affection that Alfred bestows upon him. And so he relaxes into the touches, resting a hand at the small of his back.
"I am a difficult man to love. Because of this... ink I cover myself in. Because of the walls I build around myself. Loving me can be tricky work."
Looking closely into Georg's face, another of the boy's crooked little grins cracks his own. He really does look handsome, with a bit of care put in. It's a tiny step, the lightest tug out of the shadows.
"Well then, it is a good thing I know how to get ink stains out, isn't it?"
A little wry, but - resolute. He's not about to give up any time soon.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Because I was the one with the need for the clocks, I took it upon myself to learn how to keep up with them. I have dozens of manuals for all sorts of clocks, just in case. I find the process quite soothing, really."
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So much of what Georg is is like a mystery he's unraveling, bit by bit. Enticing. Fascinating.
"That's remarkable - you must have such a delicate touch."
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He glances down with a slight smirk. "Perhaps you can tell me how delicate my touch is."
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"Ah, w-well, it's-" His voice cracks, and mentally, he curses himself a little. He clears his throat.
"It can be...very delicate, when you want it to be."
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What he won't say, is that he and Herbert have spoken extensively on the subject of Alfred's blush. How it trails down his chest in the most alluring way and makes them both want to follow it with fingers and mouths.
No, he'll concentrate instead on the gentle way Alfred's fingers work through his hair.
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Yes, he's that shade of red now, he expects. And he's feeling a bit hot under the collar, as it were. Alfred tries to focus on the braid, keeping the twists smooth and sleek before tying it off at the end.
"...There! All done." He smiles, leaning a little over Georg's shoulder. "How does it feel?"
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"I feel... handsome." He sounds surprised, but pleasantly so.
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"You look handsome, Georg. I've never seen your hair back before, and you have such graceful features-"
Absently, he runs a long finger over the contour of his ear, moving down his jaw a bit before he seems to Realize and he gently pulls back with a little laugh. "Ah - sorry. Got a little carried away. But - but you look lovely. And I know Sarah will think so, too."
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Sarah's touches are always greedy, wanting, needing. Alfred touches simply to touch. It's refreshing.
"Does having my hair back show off my graceful features, then?"
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Moving around the bench, he straddles it, turning so that he can beckon for Georg to face him. Gently, he reaches out, gently starting again to trace the lines of the other man's face, his jaw, his cheekbones, even the line of his neck over his collar.
He doesn't touch the edge of the scars, peeking out on pale skin. He's seen them, when Georg has had his shirt open or off, but...something about them, about focusing on them makes Alfred uneasy. Disjointed little images, sounds. A strange clicking. A dark laugh. The scent of earth.
Georg will tell him, someday, he's sure, when he is ready.
For now, Alfred just smiles, voice thoughtful. "...It does. You have such nice bone structure, and - your skin is pale, yes, but...but smooth, and soft. I think you're beautiful."
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"I suppose I never truly let myself think about how I look very often. Or how I feel, to that point. I don't... care for myself. Not like Herbert does. Perhaps I ought to." Though his tone is still tentative. Unsure of whether or not he's worth such things. Deserving of them.
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"I think you should," he murmurs, leaning a little closer, eyes bright as he looks up into Georg's. "I would - I would like it, if you did. It doesn't have to be a lot, at first, just...little steps."
He reaches out to take his hands, regarding the unkempt nails with a soft, understanding little smile.
"Like your hair, and...maybe these, just a little, if you'll let me."
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Weapons, meant for hunting prey.
But, slowly, he offers his hands to Alfred again. His voice quiet, barely above a whisper. "I would let you."
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...But then he offers them again, and the boy's heart leaps a little, eyes misting at the whisper. A tiny thing, it would appear to someone else.
But for Georg? For Georg he knows what kind of trust this requires. How hard it must be.
Smiling softly, he lifts both hands up, placing little kisses at the knuckles.
"Thank you for trusting me," he whispers, trying not to sniffle.
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"You make me feel," Georg says, voice choked with emotion. "Just for a little while. As though I am not a monster."
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There's only love.
A slender hand reaches up to wipe a tear away.
"I'm glad. Because I really don't think you are one. And I...I haven't, for a long time." A moment of hesitation. Perhaps it's...time to come clean.
"Not...not since...I saw you in the graveyard. Before the ball."
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He ducks his head and wishes his hair was down so he could hide behind it. But he supposes there is no real hiding from Alfred. Nor should he need to.
"I'm so sorry you saw me like that. An old, lonely creature railing uselessly against the fate the gods put upon him."
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The hand that had been wiping the tear away gently wraps under his chin, lifting it so Alfred can look him in the eye. Still smiling. Still reassuring.
"Don't be sorry. I'm...glad I saw it. I'm glad. Up until that moment, I was still so afraid of you. I still believed what the Professor was saying, and - and he was trying to get me to work up the nerve to...to do something...terrible." Momentarily, his eyes lower in shame. The meaning is clear enough.
"But when I saw you like that, I...felt like I was seeing you for the first time. The real you. Not the Thing the Professor insisted you were.
That was the first time I saw YOU."
He looks back up.
"And that's also why the stakes and crucifixes were missing from the bag when we got to the ball. Because I...threw them off the castle."
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When he hears about the stakes and crucifixes being thrown away, he can't help but smile a little. Such a good boy, his Alfred. So sweet, and kind, and understanding. Willing to see him at his worst and think of him at his best.
"How can I thank you? For being willing to love this -- this animal. For being willing to see me as more than some horrid creature who has done nothing but tear apart what he loves most?"
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"You don't have to thank me, Georg. Love is - confusing, and it's strange, and it's unexpected but...it just is. And there aren't conditions for it.
If you have to thank me somehow...you can do that by just...LETTING me love you."
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He sighs and leans in to brush his lips against against Alfred's forehead. "I want to let you love me. It's... difficult for me, at times. To open myself up to that."
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"I am a patient man, Georg. I know it will take time. It's...okay. It means the world to me, that you would try."
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"I am a difficult man to love. Because of this... ink I cover myself in. Because of the walls I build around myself. Loving me can be tricky work."
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"Well then, it is a good thing I know how to get ink stains out, isn't it?"
A little wry, but - resolute. He's not about to give up any time soon.
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But because it's Alfred, he believes him. Because it's Alfred, he wants to try.