(no subject)
TITLE: Contact
RATING: X. Yes, again.
FANDOMS: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series & Tanz der Vampire
SPOILERS: Buffy S1-7, Angel S1-5.
SUMMARY: Revelations are made in the wake of events at the castle.
SERIES: Part of Carpe Noctem series.
In order: As Aught of Mortal Birth, Per Ipsum, et cum Ipso, et in Ipso, Til The Moon Is Abed, Unwritten Words, What Remains, The Gentler Sex, Visitation, After the Storm, In The Name Of, In The Air, Makes Us Stronger, Three's a Crowd, Tis The Season, Divergence, Things Fall Apart, Broken Glass, Bleed For You, Even Angels Fall, Will Set You Free then this chapter.
PAIRINGS: Von Krolock/Dawn, Spike/Herbert, Sarah/Alfred & misc. others.
WORDS: 11,931
NOTES: If you like the opening scene in this chapter, blame bwinter. She insisted I do it. And the 3rd scene. Oh yes. Her fault.
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His forehead resting against the windowpane, Spike was staring down at the gates, watching Illyria. It was raining out there. Not heavily, but enough to make it grey and miserable. Fitting, considering the demon was hauling the broken remains of the hunters from the basement and getting rid of them outside of the castle grounds.
There was one less body carried out than had been brought in.
He remembered turning away, unable to watch, as whatever the Graf had been using ripped the teenage boy’s body and soul apart mercilessly. There hadn’t even been screams or blood. Just one minute a heartbeat and terror and then... nothing.
He’d had screams, though.
Before he’d got the Graf to kill them, finishing what they’d started, he’d made them scream and beg and bleed. All because they’d hurt someone he cared about and by default, two others who meant to world to him.
Did that make it right? Or did it justify him, even a little bit, for acting like that?
Did it make him worse for enjoying the diversion it provided?
Wrapping his arms around his middle, he closed his eyes. Did it make him bad, he wondered, if part of him wanted everything to go wrong again, so he could distract himself with everyone else’s problems instead of thinking about it?
Shouldn’t have been surprised, really, when he felt hands on his hips, but he still jolted back from the window and collided with Herbert.
“Darling,” the whisper touched his earlobe. “What have I told you about all this silly thinking?”
“Don’t do it that often,” he mumbled, turning his face away from Herbert’s lips.
“No,” Herbert agreed mildly. “Only when you think no one is looking.” He was pivoted in Herbert’s arms, grey eyes gazing down at him seriously. “Don’t forget, cheri, I am always looking.”
He couldn’t look up at his lover, not then. Couldn’t meet those eyes. “Herbert, I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Hurt them?”
Spike nodded.
“Oh, darling, you are being terribly silly.”
“I knew I would feel guilty about it, but I still did it.”
Herbert gently stroked his cheek. “Cheri, it was vengeance,” he said softly. “Though you have a soul, it is still a human soul. You can never say that humans do not harm one another. They harmed what is ours, thus we harm what is theirs. It is the most primal kind of justice.”
Spike ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, but there’s vengeance, and then there’s having people locked in a dungeon and cutting their fingers off with a knife...” He exhaled a shivering breath. “Shouldn’t have...”
A finger stopped his lips. “Darling, it is too late for recriminations now,” Herbert said firmly, though not without gentleness. “They are dead, buried. You did not kill them. They knew their fate when they chose to come here, to attack anyone on my father’s land.”
Spike lowered his eyes, turning his face away. “Still...”
“William.” Strong fingers caught his chin, turning his face back to Herbert’s, grey eyes burning into his. “They almost killed Dawn without question. In doing so, they nearly killed my father and thus, me also. They failed to kill us, though they tried.” His eyes flashed. “If they had succeeded, would their deaths grieve you as much?”
Spike stared at him.
“They would have shown us no mercy.” Herbert’s voice had softened, gentler now. “Why do you grieve for those who would have killed us while we slept, cheri? They came in daylight to destroy us without mercy or thought. It was our lives or theirs.”
“It... was, wasn’t it?”
Herbert ran his fingertips along Spike’s lower lip. “You truly did not think about it that way, did you, darling?” he murmured. “Your lovely brain has been so caught up by too many troublesome things...”
Despite himself, one side of Spike’s mouth curled up faintly. “Been a weird couple of months,” he mumbled, letting Herbert draw him into his embrace. A hand combed through his hair and he wrapped his arms around Herbert’s waist. “Don’t even know why they came here.”
In his embrace, Herbert went still. “Darling, I am afraid it was my doing,” he said quietly. “After Dawn assaulted father... after I struck you...” His cheek pressed against Spike’s hair. “I needed to kill something and I’m afraid I was not careful nor subtle about it.”
Drawing back, Spike looked at him. He pressed his fingertips to Herbert’s cheek, met his eyes. “And you almost lost your old man because of it...” he said softly. “No wonder you... you silly sod...”
Under his fingers, Herbert’s cheek tensed in a brief smile. “Yes,” he said quietly, turning his head to kiss Spike’s palm. “Precisely.”
Drawing his hands down Herbert’s arms, Spike caught his hands. “We’ve had a crap month,” he said, looking towards the large couch and the open fireplace. “Think its about time we got to just relax a bit.”
Herbert smiled. “Darling, I could not agree more,” he said, allowing himself to be lead towards the couch, the cushions deep and inviting. Even though it was summer, a fire had been stoked as the miserable grey day had pressed against the windows.
Giving Herbert a look, Spike freed one of his hands and pressed it against Herbert’s chest, pushing him down onto the couch. One of his own knees sank into the cushion beside Herbert’s hip as he leaned down to kiss him, his hands pressing against the back of the couch.
Herbert’s hands touched his hips and he was pulled closer, his arms buckling, his full weight collapsing on his lover, who laughed against his lips. An arm slid around his waist, the wandering hand slipping under his shirt and up his back.
With a shuddering gasp, he groaned as Herbert raked his perfect nails down Spike’s spine, making him arch.
“Oh, I have neglected you terribly, haven’t I, darling?” Herbert whispered against his lips, his other hand stroking Spike’s hair back from his face. “After all you have done this last month...”
Bracing himself over Herbert, the younger vampire managed to draw a smile onto his face. “S’not a problem, love,” he said, his lips chasing Herbert’s until Herbert nipped his lower lip playfully. “Gave me something to keep me busy.”
Stroking his hand through Spike’s hair again, Herbert gazed at him fondly. “No, cheri,” he said softly, tracing his thumb down Spike’s temple. “Don’t lie. You have done everything, cared for each of us, even risked your own safety. Without you, I do not know what would have become of us.”
Looking away, Spike was sure his cheeks were going a girly shade of pink and he shrugged, unable to find words to articulate. What else was he meant to have done? Sit back and watch them implode because of too much emotion?
A kiss brushed the corner of his mouth.
“Don’t be so sad, cheri,” Herbert whispered. Spike felt Herbert’s fingers curl against his neck, drawing his hair away from the nape, the lightness of his touch making Spike’s eyes close and his breath catch. “We want to see you smile again.”
“I do.” Spike said faintly, opening his eyes and looking back at Herbert.
The fingers on his back stroked his spine. “Your eyes tell another story,” Herbert whispered between kisses. “You are loved, cheri, so very much loved and wanted and we owe you our very lives...”
There was that pronoun again...
And against the back of his neck, he felt the light whisper of lips as Herbert kissed his mouth softly.
Shying back from Herbert, his eyes wide, he was suddenly aware that Herbert had one hand on his hip and one in his hair, and that there was a third that had been touching his back. Half-falling off the couch, he staggered upright, whirling around.
No one was there. No. No one was visible. Didn’t mean that no one was there. Just meant a certain someone was.
“Cheri...” Herbert’s hands gently caught his arms, stilling him, making sure he saw the Graf as he faded into focus. Like Herbert, his hair was loose and he was clad in nothing more than a shirt and trousers.
Shying back against Herbert, Spike shook his head. “No...”
Herbert’s lips touched his throat. “Father wishes to make amends, cheri.” His voice was a soft purr, making Spike shiver. Somehow, an arm had snaked across Spike’s torso, pinning his arms to his sides. “It is all right.”
Staring wildly at the Graf, Spike found his eyes caught by the dark ones. Even if he had wanted to fight Herbert’s grip, he was caught, just like he had been that night. A faint sound of distress escaped his throat and he shook his head again.
“William,” Herbert whispered gently. “I am here, cheri...”
“No...” Spike heard his voice cracking, didn’t care. “He...” He remembered the blood pouring from his throat, remembered the look in the Graf’s eyes, remembered knowing he wouldn’t have got out of there if Herbert hadn’t... “Please, Herbert...”
The fingertips of Herbert’s other hand brushed across his lips. “Trust me, my darling,” Herbert whispered, his palm closing over Spike’s lips, stifling the whimper that was rising in his throat. “Trust me.”
He wanted to fight, tried to pull away, but the combination of Herbert’s strength and the Graf’s presence bound him more efficiently than steel. He felt Herbert’s fingers press against his cheek, firm, turning his head, baring that side of his throat again, the side that had been torn open.
Pressing his eyes shut, his eyes burning, he was trembling in Herbert’s grip.
“Trust me,” Herbert whispered again, nuzzling the side of his neck, drawing Spike’s hair aside with the tip of his nose and his lips. “Trust us.”
The second pair of lips brushed the skin of his throat. Spike felt the Graf’s nails drawing his collar aside and went rigid, his teeth clenching together, moisture slipping from beneath treacherous eyelids.
The lightest of kisses touched the still-fading scars, the contact as soft as a breath of air, but enough to send a spark of something that wasn’t fear down Spike’s spine.
His eyes flew open and under Herbert’s palm, he gasped aloud.
Kissing the nape of his neck, Herbert chuckled softly, his hand drawing from Spike’s mouth, fingertips lingering for a moment. The tip of one delved between Spike’s parted lips. “You see, cheri?” he whispered, smiling against Spike’s neck when the younger vampire weakly nipped the invading finger.
Even as Herbert’s hand drew away, the Graf gently turned Spike’s face back to his, dark eyes capturing his once more, but now, there was a softness in his expression, close to a smile.
“You...” Spike stared at him. “You didn’t...”
The Graf lowered his chin in a regal nod. “Not without your consent,” he said softly, his fingertips cradling Spike’s jaw gently. He lowered his head and brushed a kiss across Spike’s awe-parted lips. “You deserve no less.”
Between them, Herbert’s hand was stroking Spike’s chest. “You are loved, my silly darling,” he whispered again. Somehow, beneath his hand, the buttons of Spike’s shirt were falling open. “So very much.”
Leaning back against Herbert’s chest, hoping he wasn’t about to lose his physical support, Spike let his liberated hands press against the Graf’s chest as he was kissed more thoroughly, the Graf’s long fingers threading through his hair.
A faint sound slipped from his lips, drunk in by the Graf’s when Herbert kissed his throat, and he felt the Graf pull him closer, harder, a low growling purr rippling against his lips.
The tingle from that sound ran from his lips right down to his toes like electricity and he sank against the Graf.
“Oh, William...” the whisper came a moment before fangs nipped his ear and his eyes flew wide. He saw Herbert’s hand raking through his father’s hair, felt the Graf growl again, softly, pressing against his front. With Herbert against his back, they held him upright as he shivered between them, a groan escaping him.
Somehow, they moved.
If they didn’t, then the couch did, because suddenly, Herbert was drawing him back, down and he was sitting and panting, his quivering legs framed by Herbert’s, Herbert’s body pressed against his back, Herbert’s lips still on his throat, kissing, nibbling, a fist in his hair, drawing his head back.
“Oh Christ...” His voice was shaking as much as he was, and his eyes found the Graf’s gazing down at him. Could have sworn he was about to burst into flame right then and there, the heat in the Graf’s eyes searing.
Then he was being kissed again, fiercely, claiming, hungrily. His face cradled between the Graf’s long hands, his own fingers clutching wildly at Herbert’s thighs, a whine escaping him as Herbert’s fangs scraped across his throat.
His head rocked back as the Graf’s lips trailed from his, touching cheek, jaw, throat, one of Spike’s quivering hands jumping to clutch at the Graf. Lips were roaming both sides of his throat now, crossing, switching sides, hair like silk stroking his chest and shoulders, but couldn’t say whose.
He felt hands dragging his shirt further down his arms, fingertips dragging against his skin, one hand with short nails, the other with long, both caressing, making his body arch and his hips jerk.
An arm slipped over his shoulder, drawing him back, tilting him so Herbert could kiss him, those other lips moving, journeying down his bare chest, fluttering across twitching muscles and his rapidly rising and falling ribs.
He felt an arm brush his thigh, caught a glimpse out the corner of his eye, the Graf’s hand touching his son’s knee, felt Herbert’s other hand move in response, following his father’s lips down Spike’s stomach.
Oh God.
The fastening of his trousers deftly came undone, the flicker of Herbert’s fingers echoed by darting laps of the Graf’s tongue. Against Spike’s lips, Herbert laughed, so amused, so happy, playfully pushing his father’s face away to let his hand finish undoing the buttons.
In response, that wicked mouth nipped Spike’s belly in reprimand, making him whine against Herbert’s lips. Uttering a sympathetic sound, Herbert nibbled his lower lip tenderly, loosening Spike’s trousers and slipping his hand inside them.
Scraping his teeth along the curve of Spike’s rib cage, the Graf sounded like he was almost purring with satisfaction, one hand moving from the couch to squeeze Spike’s thigh, fingers dragging against the tensed muscle.
“Father...” His face turning from Spike’s for a moment, there was a beat of stillness where Spike caught a breath and opened his eyes to see a gleam of pure wickedness in Herbert’s eyes.
In a split-second, he was both lifted a fraction of an inch from the couch and felt his trousers grabbed, pulled, then the chill of air on bare skin.
He swore weakly and Herbert uttered a delighted laugh and kissed him again.
Palms slid against his bared thighs, and he felt the silky brush of hair, his eyes going wide. He drew breath to exclaim, but it was too late for that as the Graf’s lips brushed against him, his whole body shuddering with pleasure.
Kissing Spike’s lips softly, Herbert smiled. “Look, cheri,” he whispered, nuzzling Spike’s jaw, nudging his head, making him look down.
On his knees between Spike’s splayed thighs, tongue and lips doing things that had Spike melting inside, the proud Graf was looking up at him though steel-grey lashes. Those dark eyes glittered and something inside of Spike clenched deliciously, making him moan, even as he saw Herbert’s hand stroke thorough his father’s trailing silver hair.
Kneading at Herbert’s thighs, he could feel the shivering starting deep inside him, scorching tension building, knotting, his breathing stilted, quivering over his lips as Herbert kissed his throat.
Hands were stroking and squeezing his thighs, against his ribs, stroking his chest, his calves, everywhere at the same time. There was hair. Teasing. Silken. And tongues and lips and teeth and low, sensual growls.
And against his throat, he heard Herbert murmur for both of them, “I love you.”
____________________________
Leaning on Illyria’s arm, Dawn stepped carefully down the last of the stairs. It was her first time out of her room for days and she had accidentally summoned Illyria with her mind when she had half-fallen down one of the staircases.
It hadn’t been deliberate, but she had wished she had someone closer to help her up and apparently, Illyria had been physically closest.
With a rueful grin and apology, Dawn had let herself be demon-handled into an upright position. With a bit of persuading, she had convinced Illyria that she should be allowed to go down to the kitchen for food.
It just happened to be that she picked up on approaching guests when halfway along the hall above the entrance lobby.
“You wished to go to the kitchen.”
“And now I wish to go to the front door,” Dawn said, grimacing as her stomach tensed. Stupid scar tissue getting all sore and stretchy. “Sooner I’m done, the sooner my brain’ll stop yelling at you.”
The demon loosened her hold on Dawn’s body. “Your control is pitiful,” she said, striding across the floor to pull the door open, leaving Dawn propped against the decorative end of the banister.
“Well, duh!” Dawn said, drawing a breath and straightening up. A smile crossed her face. “Hey! Come in, guys!”
Standing outside the door, Alfred and Sarah were staring at the demon uncertainly, stepping around her warily. Blue eyes watched them baldly, as if they were new kinds of interesting pets.
“Is... what is that?” Sarah inquired.
“Oh! Right! You guys didn’t meet Illyria before!” Stepping away from the banister as Illyria closed the door, Dawn motioned to her. “Illyria, these two are Sarah and Alfred. They’re friends.”
Illyria looked them up and down. “They belong to the Sorcerer,” she said.
“Well, yeah.” Dawn rolled her eyes, then grinned at Sarah. “Wondered when you’d be visiting again.” She tilted her head to look past Sarah. “Hey, Alfred.” The male vampire nodded politely. “You guys staying for a while?”
Sarah nodded. “We have two months before I am expected in South America,” she said with a warm smile. “Where better to spend them?” She looked around the hall. “Though I am surprised that they leave you to answer the door.”
“Oh, long story,” Dawn replied. “Been a weird month and we’re just getting things all sorted out with...” She trailed of as both Alfred and Sarah looked up the stairs behind her, eyes wide, nostrils flaring. “Oh God... I hate it when you guys do that...”
“Sarah...” Alfred looked to his lover, consternation written on his face.
“I know,” she replied tersely. Something in her brown-gold eyes suggested that whatever Dawn was missing out in the smellovision department, it wasn’t exactly making Sarah feel like hugs and puppies.
“Darlings!”
Turning, Dawn saw Herbert leap down onto the landing halfway up the staircase, her eyes going as wide as Sarah and Alfred’s.
It looked like he’d been mauled by a bear or something. His hair was sticking every which way, his lips swollen, grey eyes glittering. His rumpled shirt was untucked and flapping against his pants. Speaking of pants, her eyes were drawn to...
“Oh God! Herbert! Put it away!”
Shaking his hair back with a laugh, Herbert leapt lightly down from the landing, his smile broad and wicked. “Of course, my little darling,” he purred, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing her on the ear. His other hand rearranged the front of his pants with mock modesty. “Alfred, cheri... Sarah...”
Grimacing, Dawn screwed up her face. “Please tell me that you’ve got something in your pocket and that’s not what I think it is nudging my hip...” She heard his laugh, though it was more of a giggle. Struggling to swat him, she groaned, “Herbert!”
“Mmm?” he purred, drawing her into his arms and nuzzling her collared throat.
“Hey, hey, hey!” She pulled against his arms as he nibbled on her earlobe, one of her weakest points. Trying to ignore the tingly-warmth that headed from ear to groin, she slapped at his hands. “When’d’you go all heterosexual on me?”
His hand rose, turned her face towards his and she couldn’t be sure who was more startled between her, Sarah and Alfred when he kissed her, his tongue teasing along her lower lip and teeth.
“EW! Herbert!” She pulled away and in the split second before the sharp movement caught up with her, doubling her over, she saw him clap his hands together, bouncing on the spot and beaming.
It faded and he frowned. “Damn it, you silly girl!”
“You too, you dummy!” Dawn gasped, arms folded over her stomach. “And ow!”
She was promptly scooped up in his arms and he carried her through to the drawing room, depositing her gently on the couch and kneeling down at her feet. His hands pried her arms from her waist and he lifted her shirt. “No blood.”
“If you made me bleed internally again, I’m kicking your ass,” Dawn hissed through clenched teeth.
Leaning forward, Herbert gently kissed her belly. “I would do no such thing,” he said, then smoothed her shirt back down. He looked up at her, playfulness replaced with concern. “What are you doing down here anyway, cherie?”
With a nod towards the two figures hovering anxiously in the doorway, she drew a slow, calming breath, forcing the pain down. “Thought you guys might be busy,” she said, then flinched as his hand slid under her shirt again, the coolness against the heat of the scar shocking but soothing.
“Well, we were busy,” he said, looking back at her after scrutinising both Sarah and Alfred and the confused expressions they were wearing. “But that’s no reason to pop yourself open again, is it, you silly little thing?”
“When you say we, is that you and Spike?”
Grey eyes peeked at her wound again. “Ah...”
“What about your dad?”
Deliberately arranging her shirt with the tips of his fingers, delicately, he hesitated before he said, “Well, father and William are... rather busy at the moment...” His hands dropped to hastily arrange his own shirt.
“Busy?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And you’re all molested?”
“Ah...”
“And you were busy too, before you came down here all molested?”
In an impressive recovery, he caught her hand, kissing it with fervent passion. “I was readying yourself for you, my darling!”
Dawn rolled her eyes, swaying where she sat. “You guys are so paying for my therapy.” Pressing her hand over her stomach, she forced her body to look inwards, tried to make it dull the pain, cool itself down or something. A hiss of breath escaped between her teeth. “Damn it.”
His hand still clasping hers, she found Herbert looking at her anxiously. “Do you wish for me to get drugs, cherie?” he asked, closing his other hand around their joined ones. “Or chloroform? I still have some...”
“I think I need to get back to my bed,” she replied, her voice tight with pain. “I can try and make it stop, there... don’t wanna pass out down here...”
Rising on his knees, Herbert slid a hand into her hair, drawing her face to his and kissing her forehead. “I shall take care of you, cherie,” he promised, lowering his head to rest his brow against hers.
Leaning into him, Dawn smiled weakly as he took her in his arms and gently lifted her up. “What about them?” she asked in a whisper, gesturing with her eyes to Alfred and Sarah.
“Oh! Yes!” Turning, Dawn’s arms around his neck, Herbert beamed at them. “I’m afraid father is occupied and he would have you settle yourselves in your usual rooms until tonight.” He pointedly looked at Sarah. “Both of you.”
As he swept past them both, Dawn laid her head on his shoulder. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the soft cotton-wool-like press of dazed confusion from Alfred, but - like a spike in her skull - she felt Sarah’s anger stab at her.
Only when they were halfway up one of the staircases and out of reasonable hearing range, Dawn murmured, “Sarah isn’t going to listen to you.”
Herbert looked down at her, brows drawing together, but she noticed he didn’t question her words. “More fool her, then,” he said, his voice cool. “She knows better than to anger father.”
“She misses him is all,” Dawn said quietly. Grey eyes looked down at her and she knew he knew that they both knew wasn’t the case. “Okay, she gets even more grabby about him than I do...”
Herbert laughed softly. “You can tell that just from the way her face tenses up like a cat’s backside?” Pain tore through her but in that second, Dawn didn’t care as she burst out laughing. “I am terribly sorry,” Herbert said virtuously. “But its true.”
“You really don’t like her, do you?”
“What gave you that impression?” Herbert wasn’t looking at her, but she could hear the curiosity in his voice. “Not simply that I compare her face to a cat’s backside...”
Dawn settled her head against his shoulder. “You remember when they visited and you had Alfred?” she said. Herbert nodded. “When you came back, all three of you, she asked you if Alfred behaved... like she had to ask you...”
“You noticed?”
“Herbert.” Her eyes closed, her voice quiet, Dawn sighed. “I’m stuck in the middle of a gazillion relationships here and I need to know who is doing what with who and why.” She paused to catch her breath. “She doesn’t like that she has to ask.”
“No,” Herbert agreed mildly.
“And you like to make her ask.”
Grey eyes looked down at her in surprise. “Cherie...”
“Don’t you?”
A faint, sheepish grin crossed his lips. “It annoys her so,” he admitted. His eyes glinted wickedly. “Even moreso that I can make her dear little Alfred fall on his back for me with a look.” He blinked. “Oh! I did not even greet the little darling!”
Dawn laughed wearily. “And you groped a girl,” she said softly. “They’re gonna think the world’s gone crazy.” She felt Herbert’s chuckle under her cheek. “Why don’t you like her?”
“Aside from the fact she is a girl?”
“You like me and I’m one.”
Herbert clicked his tongue. “Cherie, you do not count,” he said. “Though they are not visible, you do, indeed, have testicles.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Anyway, I do not like you and would prefer if you would desist in spreading such foul rumours.”
Smiling faintly, Dawn murmured, “K. My bad.”
“Good.” Herbert ran lightly up a staircase, nudging a door open with his foot. “As for Sarah... well, you do not boast of your position or standing with my father.” His nose wrinkled. “She seems to think she has a right to it.”
Opening her eyes, Dawn blinked up at him. “She seems to like me okay.”
Entering Dawn’s room, Herbert hesitated, then looked down at her. “Give it time, cherie,” he said seriously. “She is proud and stubborn, that child, and she does not like anyone who may prevent her from having what she desires.”
Dawn stared at him for a moment. “Your dad...”
Herbert nodded, starting up the staircase. “Perhaps she will be different with you,” he said. “You are female and mortal. Perhaps, that would make it more acceptable for her, but I want you to be on your guard nonetheless.” He carried her to the bed and laid her down gently. “Especially now, cherie.”
As a cool hand was laid against her forehead, Dawn nodded, closing her eyes. “She tries anything with me, she’ll regret it,” she said.
“You will kick her ass, I expect?” There was such an overlay of amusement that Dawn wondered if he really believed she was capable of it.
Blue eyes opened and she saw the surprise in Herbert’s face at her expression. “I can and I will,” she said quietly. She smiled and it was a smile without humour. “I’m a Slayer’s sister, Herbert. She doesn’t wanna piss me off.”
Herbert’s hair trailed against her cheeks as he leaned over her. “Darling,” he said in all sincerity. “I think I might love you.”
__________________________________
The rain was still pattering against the windows as von Krolock drew William to him once more.
Herbert’s departure some time earlier had, alas, been necessary, but William was still receiving ample reward for his courage, his strength and his unquestionable devotion and loyalty.
It was a pity that William had lost Herbert’s generous touch for a time, von Krolock mused as his fingertips stroked from sternum to hip on the boy’s slim form. There was such poetry between his son and this beautiful young creature that loved him.
Laid upon the couch, one of Herbert’s arms beneath his shoulder, he had been so pliant, his body arching with such exquisite tension, that the Graf had found his unneeded breath quite stolen away.
Kneeling by the couch, Herbert’s lips had been ghosting against his lover’s, drinking in William’s every desperate moan and sigh, his son’s skilful hand moving down William’s trembling body, caressing him, lavishing his every affection upon him.
His own hands cradling the boy’s hips, von Krolock had been pressed deeply to him, had lowered his head to kiss William’s bare shoulder, when he had felt the ripple of two familiar minds, close to.
Arching back, tossing his hair back, he had uttered a groan, fingers biting into William’s flesh, and felt his son’s eyes lift to him.
“Father?”
Forcing himself to still, he had whispered, “We have guests.”
“They can wait,” Herbert had replied just as softly, lifting a hand to push von Krolock’s hair back from his face, then lowering his lips to William’s gently, briefly.
Exhaling a breath, the Graf had shaken his head. “Dawn... she awaits them... Sarah will not listen to her...” He had started to withdraw to let his son savour his time with his lover, but felt Herbert’s hand at his wrist, had found the grey eyes gazing up at him.
“Stay, father,” Herbert had said softly. He had looked down at William. Those blue eyes that had been so afraid met the Graf’s and he saw the dazed smile, the subtlest of nods. Grey eyes had returned to his and his son had smiled.
William had been bestowed with a warm kiss, the arm slipping from beneath his shoulders, then Herbert was gone, the door closing behind him.
That was when the Graf had lowered his lips to William’s, kissing him, and had felt a great rise of affection as the boy wrapped his arms around von Krolock’s shoulders, embracing and accepting.
It had been unlike any of their encounters before, fascinating von Krolock.
Without the fear of the inevitable biting that had thus far punctuated their every encounter, William gave himself entirely, fearlessly, offering everything, his touches hopeful, wanting, pleasing.
Thus, the Graf drew him upright and the boy had followed trustingly.
Standing before the mantle, he turned the boy to face the flames, bathing him in the warm, flickering glow. Drawn back against von Krolock’s chest, William trembled like the strings of a harp, plucked and resonating with beautiful sound.
“Am I forgiven, William?” he whispered against the boy’s throat, against that beautiful curve of his neck from which he had so callously almost bled the child until he was nothing but dust.
William’s slender hands covered his, pressing the Graf’s palms to his body in wordless assent, and von Krolock smiled, kissing the soft flesh beneath his ear. His hands turned now, capturing William’s with gentle fingers.
With his head tilted in utter trust, William gasped softly as kisses and gentle nips were lavished upon his skin. Against the Graf’s body, he was shivering with need, his tousled hair brushing von Krolock’s shoulder.
Lifting the hands captured in his, young William’s fingers flexing so wildly and delightfully, the Graf raised them to the stone mantlepiece, pressing William’s palms to the carved stone.
Against William’s back, he shifted his weight, pressed close to him, his lips grazing William’s bare shoulder. Wordlessly obedient to the unspoken command, William’s feet had slipped apart by degrees.
Slipping his hands along the boy’s tensed arms, the Graf felt the muscles quiver beneath his palms. Ribs ridged against his fingertips as they roamed down, snaring the boy’s hips, holding him, gently bracing him.
The soft whimper that escaped the boy was beautiful. His tawny head dropped forward and von Krolock tenderly kissed the nape of his bared neck as he pressed deeper still, so closely joined with William that he could feel the very quivers running down the backs of the boy’s thighs.
On the periphery of his senses, he felt someone approach, heard the door open.
As one, he and William looked towards the door.
The annoyed hiss that escaped William was echoed by his own growl and with a jerk of his head the girl was flung backwards into the hall, the door slamming forcefully shut behind her.
“Stupid bint...” William muttered, a growl underlying his words.
“Sometimes, yes,” von Krolock murmured against William’s shoulder. Then he moved one of his hands just a little way and made William forget all about her.
________________________________________
Part 2
RATING: X. Yes, again.
FANDOMS: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series & Tanz der Vampire
SPOILERS: Buffy S1-7, Angel S1-5.
SUMMARY: Revelations are made in the wake of events at the castle.
SERIES: Part of Carpe Noctem series.
In order: As Aught of Mortal Birth, Per Ipsum, et cum Ipso, et in Ipso, Til The Moon Is Abed, Unwritten Words, What Remains, The Gentler Sex, Visitation, After the Storm, In The Name Of, In The Air, Makes Us Stronger, Three's a Crowd, Tis The Season, Divergence, Things Fall Apart, Broken Glass, Bleed For You, Even Angels Fall, Will Set You Free then this chapter.
PAIRINGS: Von Krolock/Dawn, Spike/Herbert, Sarah/Alfred & misc. others.
WORDS: 11,931
NOTES: If you like the opening scene in this chapter, blame bwinter. She insisted I do it. And the 3rd scene. Oh yes. Her fault.
__________________________________
His forehead resting against the windowpane, Spike was staring down at the gates, watching Illyria. It was raining out there. Not heavily, but enough to make it grey and miserable. Fitting, considering the demon was hauling the broken remains of the hunters from the basement and getting rid of them outside of the castle grounds.
There was one less body carried out than had been brought in.
He remembered turning away, unable to watch, as whatever the Graf had been using ripped the teenage boy’s body and soul apart mercilessly. There hadn’t even been screams or blood. Just one minute a heartbeat and terror and then... nothing.
He’d had screams, though.
Before he’d got the Graf to kill them, finishing what they’d started, he’d made them scream and beg and bleed. All because they’d hurt someone he cared about and by default, two others who meant to world to him.
Did that make it right? Or did it justify him, even a little bit, for acting like that?
Did it make him worse for enjoying the diversion it provided?
Wrapping his arms around his middle, he closed his eyes. Did it make him bad, he wondered, if part of him wanted everything to go wrong again, so he could distract himself with everyone else’s problems instead of thinking about it?
Shouldn’t have been surprised, really, when he felt hands on his hips, but he still jolted back from the window and collided with Herbert.
“Darling,” the whisper touched his earlobe. “What have I told you about all this silly thinking?”
“Don’t do it that often,” he mumbled, turning his face away from Herbert’s lips.
“No,” Herbert agreed mildly. “Only when you think no one is looking.” He was pivoted in Herbert’s arms, grey eyes gazing down at him seriously. “Don’t forget, cheri, I am always looking.”
He couldn’t look up at his lover, not then. Couldn’t meet those eyes. “Herbert, I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Hurt them?”
Spike nodded.
“Oh, darling, you are being terribly silly.”
“I knew I would feel guilty about it, but I still did it.”
Herbert gently stroked his cheek. “Cheri, it was vengeance,” he said softly. “Though you have a soul, it is still a human soul. You can never say that humans do not harm one another. They harmed what is ours, thus we harm what is theirs. It is the most primal kind of justice.”
Spike ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, but there’s vengeance, and then there’s having people locked in a dungeon and cutting their fingers off with a knife...” He exhaled a shivering breath. “Shouldn’t have...”
A finger stopped his lips. “Darling, it is too late for recriminations now,” Herbert said firmly, though not without gentleness. “They are dead, buried. You did not kill them. They knew their fate when they chose to come here, to attack anyone on my father’s land.”
Spike lowered his eyes, turning his face away. “Still...”
“William.” Strong fingers caught his chin, turning his face back to Herbert’s, grey eyes burning into his. “They almost killed Dawn without question. In doing so, they nearly killed my father and thus, me also. They failed to kill us, though they tried.” His eyes flashed. “If they had succeeded, would their deaths grieve you as much?”
Spike stared at him.
“They would have shown us no mercy.” Herbert’s voice had softened, gentler now. “Why do you grieve for those who would have killed us while we slept, cheri? They came in daylight to destroy us without mercy or thought. It was our lives or theirs.”
“It... was, wasn’t it?”
Herbert ran his fingertips along Spike’s lower lip. “You truly did not think about it that way, did you, darling?” he murmured. “Your lovely brain has been so caught up by too many troublesome things...”
Despite himself, one side of Spike’s mouth curled up faintly. “Been a weird couple of months,” he mumbled, letting Herbert draw him into his embrace. A hand combed through his hair and he wrapped his arms around Herbert’s waist. “Don’t even know why they came here.”
In his embrace, Herbert went still. “Darling, I am afraid it was my doing,” he said quietly. “After Dawn assaulted father... after I struck you...” His cheek pressed against Spike’s hair. “I needed to kill something and I’m afraid I was not careful nor subtle about it.”
Drawing back, Spike looked at him. He pressed his fingertips to Herbert’s cheek, met his eyes. “And you almost lost your old man because of it...” he said softly. “No wonder you... you silly sod...”
Under his fingers, Herbert’s cheek tensed in a brief smile. “Yes,” he said quietly, turning his head to kiss Spike’s palm. “Precisely.”
Drawing his hands down Herbert’s arms, Spike caught his hands. “We’ve had a crap month,” he said, looking towards the large couch and the open fireplace. “Think its about time we got to just relax a bit.”
Herbert smiled. “Darling, I could not agree more,” he said, allowing himself to be lead towards the couch, the cushions deep and inviting. Even though it was summer, a fire had been stoked as the miserable grey day had pressed against the windows.
Giving Herbert a look, Spike freed one of his hands and pressed it against Herbert’s chest, pushing him down onto the couch. One of his own knees sank into the cushion beside Herbert’s hip as he leaned down to kiss him, his hands pressing against the back of the couch.
Herbert’s hands touched his hips and he was pulled closer, his arms buckling, his full weight collapsing on his lover, who laughed against his lips. An arm slid around his waist, the wandering hand slipping under his shirt and up his back.
With a shuddering gasp, he groaned as Herbert raked his perfect nails down Spike’s spine, making him arch.
“Oh, I have neglected you terribly, haven’t I, darling?” Herbert whispered against his lips, his other hand stroking Spike’s hair back from his face. “After all you have done this last month...”
Bracing himself over Herbert, the younger vampire managed to draw a smile onto his face. “S’not a problem, love,” he said, his lips chasing Herbert’s until Herbert nipped his lower lip playfully. “Gave me something to keep me busy.”
Stroking his hand through Spike’s hair again, Herbert gazed at him fondly. “No, cheri,” he said softly, tracing his thumb down Spike’s temple. “Don’t lie. You have done everything, cared for each of us, even risked your own safety. Without you, I do not know what would have become of us.”
Looking away, Spike was sure his cheeks were going a girly shade of pink and he shrugged, unable to find words to articulate. What else was he meant to have done? Sit back and watch them implode because of too much emotion?
A kiss brushed the corner of his mouth.
“Don’t be so sad, cheri,” Herbert whispered. Spike felt Herbert’s fingers curl against his neck, drawing his hair away from the nape, the lightness of his touch making Spike’s eyes close and his breath catch. “We want to see you smile again.”
“I do.” Spike said faintly, opening his eyes and looking back at Herbert.
The fingers on his back stroked his spine. “Your eyes tell another story,” Herbert whispered between kisses. “You are loved, cheri, so very much loved and wanted and we owe you our very lives...”
There was that pronoun again...
And against the back of his neck, he felt the light whisper of lips as Herbert kissed his mouth softly.
Shying back from Herbert, his eyes wide, he was suddenly aware that Herbert had one hand on his hip and one in his hair, and that there was a third that had been touching his back. Half-falling off the couch, he staggered upright, whirling around.
No one was there. No. No one was visible. Didn’t mean that no one was there. Just meant a certain someone was.
“Cheri...” Herbert’s hands gently caught his arms, stilling him, making sure he saw the Graf as he faded into focus. Like Herbert, his hair was loose and he was clad in nothing more than a shirt and trousers.
Shying back against Herbert, Spike shook his head. “No...”
Herbert’s lips touched his throat. “Father wishes to make amends, cheri.” His voice was a soft purr, making Spike shiver. Somehow, an arm had snaked across Spike’s torso, pinning his arms to his sides. “It is all right.”
Staring wildly at the Graf, Spike found his eyes caught by the dark ones. Even if he had wanted to fight Herbert’s grip, he was caught, just like he had been that night. A faint sound of distress escaped his throat and he shook his head again.
“William,” Herbert whispered gently. “I am here, cheri...”
“No...” Spike heard his voice cracking, didn’t care. “He...” He remembered the blood pouring from his throat, remembered the look in the Graf’s eyes, remembered knowing he wouldn’t have got out of there if Herbert hadn’t... “Please, Herbert...”
The fingertips of Herbert’s other hand brushed across his lips. “Trust me, my darling,” Herbert whispered, his palm closing over Spike’s lips, stifling the whimper that was rising in his throat. “Trust me.”
He wanted to fight, tried to pull away, but the combination of Herbert’s strength and the Graf’s presence bound him more efficiently than steel. He felt Herbert’s fingers press against his cheek, firm, turning his head, baring that side of his throat again, the side that had been torn open.
Pressing his eyes shut, his eyes burning, he was trembling in Herbert’s grip.
“Trust me,” Herbert whispered again, nuzzling the side of his neck, drawing Spike’s hair aside with the tip of his nose and his lips. “Trust us.”
The second pair of lips brushed the skin of his throat. Spike felt the Graf’s nails drawing his collar aside and went rigid, his teeth clenching together, moisture slipping from beneath treacherous eyelids.
The lightest of kisses touched the still-fading scars, the contact as soft as a breath of air, but enough to send a spark of something that wasn’t fear down Spike’s spine.
His eyes flew open and under Herbert’s palm, he gasped aloud.
Kissing the nape of his neck, Herbert chuckled softly, his hand drawing from Spike’s mouth, fingertips lingering for a moment. The tip of one delved between Spike’s parted lips. “You see, cheri?” he whispered, smiling against Spike’s neck when the younger vampire weakly nipped the invading finger.
Even as Herbert’s hand drew away, the Graf gently turned Spike’s face back to his, dark eyes capturing his once more, but now, there was a softness in his expression, close to a smile.
“You...” Spike stared at him. “You didn’t...”
The Graf lowered his chin in a regal nod. “Not without your consent,” he said softly, his fingertips cradling Spike’s jaw gently. He lowered his head and brushed a kiss across Spike’s awe-parted lips. “You deserve no less.”
Between them, Herbert’s hand was stroking Spike’s chest. “You are loved, my silly darling,” he whispered again. Somehow, beneath his hand, the buttons of Spike’s shirt were falling open. “So very much.”
Leaning back against Herbert’s chest, hoping he wasn’t about to lose his physical support, Spike let his liberated hands press against the Graf’s chest as he was kissed more thoroughly, the Graf’s long fingers threading through his hair.
A faint sound slipped from his lips, drunk in by the Graf’s when Herbert kissed his throat, and he felt the Graf pull him closer, harder, a low growling purr rippling against his lips.
The tingle from that sound ran from his lips right down to his toes like electricity and he sank against the Graf.
“Oh, William...” the whisper came a moment before fangs nipped his ear and his eyes flew wide. He saw Herbert’s hand raking through his father’s hair, felt the Graf growl again, softly, pressing against his front. With Herbert against his back, they held him upright as he shivered between them, a groan escaping him.
Somehow, they moved.
If they didn’t, then the couch did, because suddenly, Herbert was drawing him back, down and he was sitting and panting, his quivering legs framed by Herbert’s, Herbert’s body pressed against his back, Herbert’s lips still on his throat, kissing, nibbling, a fist in his hair, drawing his head back.
“Oh Christ...” His voice was shaking as much as he was, and his eyes found the Graf’s gazing down at him. Could have sworn he was about to burst into flame right then and there, the heat in the Graf’s eyes searing.
Then he was being kissed again, fiercely, claiming, hungrily. His face cradled between the Graf’s long hands, his own fingers clutching wildly at Herbert’s thighs, a whine escaping him as Herbert’s fangs scraped across his throat.
His head rocked back as the Graf’s lips trailed from his, touching cheek, jaw, throat, one of Spike’s quivering hands jumping to clutch at the Graf. Lips were roaming both sides of his throat now, crossing, switching sides, hair like silk stroking his chest and shoulders, but couldn’t say whose.
He felt hands dragging his shirt further down his arms, fingertips dragging against his skin, one hand with short nails, the other with long, both caressing, making his body arch and his hips jerk.
An arm slipped over his shoulder, drawing him back, tilting him so Herbert could kiss him, those other lips moving, journeying down his bare chest, fluttering across twitching muscles and his rapidly rising and falling ribs.
He felt an arm brush his thigh, caught a glimpse out the corner of his eye, the Graf’s hand touching his son’s knee, felt Herbert’s other hand move in response, following his father’s lips down Spike’s stomach.
Oh God.
The fastening of his trousers deftly came undone, the flicker of Herbert’s fingers echoed by darting laps of the Graf’s tongue. Against Spike’s lips, Herbert laughed, so amused, so happy, playfully pushing his father’s face away to let his hand finish undoing the buttons.
In response, that wicked mouth nipped Spike’s belly in reprimand, making him whine against Herbert’s lips. Uttering a sympathetic sound, Herbert nibbled his lower lip tenderly, loosening Spike’s trousers and slipping his hand inside them.
Scraping his teeth along the curve of Spike’s rib cage, the Graf sounded like he was almost purring with satisfaction, one hand moving from the couch to squeeze Spike’s thigh, fingers dragging against the tensed muscle.
“Father...” His face turning from Spike’s for a moment, there was a beat of stillness where Spike caught a breath and opened his eyes to see a gleam of pure wickedness in Herbert’s eyes.
In a split-second, he was both lifted a fraction of an inch from the couch and felt his trousers grabbed, pulled, then the chill of air on bare skin.
He swore weakly and Herbert uttered a delighted laugh and kissed him again.
Palms slid against his bared thighs, and he felt the silky brush of hair, his eyes going wide. He drew breath to exclaim, but it was too late for that as the Graf’s lips brushed against him, his whole body shuddering with pleasure.
Kissing Spike’s lips softly, Herbert smiled. “Look, cheri,” he whispered, nuzzling Spike’s jaw, nudging his head, making him look down.
On his knees between Spike’s splayed thighs, tongue and lips doing things that had Spike melting inside, the proud Graf was looking up at him though steel-grey lashes. Those dark eyes glittered and something inside of Spike clenched deliciously, making him moan, even as he saw Herbert’s hand stroke thorough his father’s trailing silver hair.
Kneading at Herbert’s thighs, he could feel the shivering starting deep inside him, scorching tension building, knotting, his breathing stilted, quivering over his lips as Herbert kissed his throat.
Hands were stroking and squeezing his thighs, against his ribs, stroking his chest, his calves, everywhere at the same time. There was hair. Teasing. Silken. And tongues and lips and teeth and low, sensual growls.
And against his throat, he heard Herbert murmur for both of them, “I love you.”
____________________________
Leaning on Illyria’s arm, Dawn stepped carefully down the last of the stairs. It was her first time out of her room for days and she had accidentally summoned Illyria with her mind when she had half-fallen down one of the staircases.
It hadn’t been deliberate, but she had wished she had someone closer to help her up and apparently, Illyria had been physically closest.
With a rueful grin and apology, Dawn had let herself be demon-handled into an upright position. With a bit of persuading, she had convinced Illyria that she should be allowed to go down to the kitchen for food.
It just happened to be that she picked up on approaching guests when halfway along the hall above the entrance lobby.
“You wished to go to the kitchen.”
“And now I wish to go to the front door,” Dawn said, grimacing as her stomach tensed. Stupid scar tissue getting all sore and stretchy. “Sooner I’m done, the sooner my brain’ll stop yelling at you.”
The demon loosened her hold on Dawn’s body. “Your control is pitiful,” she said, striding across the floor to pull the door open, leaving Dawn propped against the decorative end of the banister.
“Well, duh!” Dawn said, drawing a breath and straightening up. A smile crossed her face. “Hey! Come in, guys!”
Standing outside the door, Alfred and Sarah were staring at the demon uncertainly, stepping around her warily. Blue eyes watched them baldly, as if they were new kinds of interesting pets.
“Is... what is that?” Sarah inquired.
“Oh! Right! You guys didn’t meet Illyria before!” Stepping away from the banister as Illyria closed the door, Dawn motioned to her. “Illyria, these two are Sarah and Alfred. They’re friends.”
Illyria looked them up and down. “They belong to the Sorcerer,” she said.
“Well, yeah.” Dawn rolled her eyes, then grinned at Sarah. “Wondered when you’d be visiting again.” She tilted her head to look past Sarah. “Hey, Alfred.” The male vampire nodded politely. “You guys staying for a while?”
Sarah nodded. “We have two months before I am expected in South America,” she said with a warm smile. “Where better to spend them?” She looked around the hall. “Though I am surprised that they leave you to answer the door.”
“Oh, long story,” Dawn replied. “Been a weird month and we’re just getting things all sorted out with...” She trailed of as both Alfred and Sarah looked up the stairs behind her, eyes wide, nostrils flaring. “Oh God... I hate it when you guys do that...”
“Sarah...” Alfred looked to his lover, consternation written on his face.
“I know,” she replied tersely. Something in her brown-gold eyes suggested that whatever Dawn was missing out in the smellovision department, it wasn’t exactly making Sarah feel like hugs and puppies.
“Darlings!”
Turning, Dawn saw Herbert leap down onto the landing halfway up the staircase, her eyes going as wide as Sarah and Alfred’s.
It looked like he’d been mauled by a bear or something. His hair was sticking every which way, his lips swollen, grey eyes glittering. His rumpled shirt was untucked and flapping against his pants. Speaking of pants, her eyes were drawn to...
“Oh God! Herbert! Put it away!”
Shaking his hair back with a laugh, Herbert leapt lightly down from the landing, his smile broad and wicked. “Of course, my little darling,” he purred, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing her on the ear. His other hand rearranged the front of his pants with mock modesty. “Alfred, cheri... Sarah...”
Grimacing, Dawn screwed up her face. “Please tell me that you’ve got something in your pocket and that’s not what I think it is nudging my hip...” She heard his laugh, though it was more of a giggle. Struggling to swat him, she groaned, “Herbert!”
“Mmm?” he purred, drawing her into his arms and nuzzling her collared throat.
“Hey, hey, hey!” She pulled against his arms as he nibbled on her earlobe, one of her weakest points. Trying to ignore the tingly-warmth that headed from ear to groin, she slapped at his hands. “When’d’you go all heterosexual on me?”
His hand rose, turned her face towards his and she couldn’t be sure who was more startled between her, Sarah and Alfred when he kissed her, his tongue teasing along her lower lip and teeth.
“EW! Herbert!” She pulled away and in the split second before the sharp movement caught up with her, doubling her over, she saw him clap his hands together, bouncing on the spot and beaming.
It faded and he frowned. “Damn it, you silly girl!”
“You too, you dummy!” Dawn gasped, arms folded over her stomach. “And ow!”
She was promptly scooped up in his arms and he carried her through to the drawing room, depositing her gently on the couch and kneeling down at her feet. His hands pried her arms from her waist and he lifted her shirt. “No blood.”
“If you made me bleed internally again, I’m kicking your ass,” Dawn hissed through clenched teeth.
Leaning forward, Herbert gently kissed her belly. “I would do no such thing,” he said, then smoothed her shirt back down. He looked up at her, playfulness replaced with concern. “What are you doing down here anyway, cherie?”
With a nod towards the two figures hovering anxiously in the doorway, she drew a slow, calming breath, forcing the pain down. “Thought you guys might be busy,” she said, then flinched as his hand slid under her shirt again, the coolness against the heat of the scar shocking but soothing.
“Well, we were busy,” he said, looking back at her after scrutinising both Sarah and Alfred and the confused expressions they were wearing. “But that’s no reason to pop yourself open again, is it, you silly little thing?”
“When you say we, is that you and Spike?”
Grey eyes peeked at her wound again. “Ah...”
“What about your dad?”
Deliberately arranging her shirt with the tips of his fingers, delicately, he hesitated before he said, “Well, father and William are... rather busy at the moment...” His hands dropped to hastily arrange his own shirt.
“Busy?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And you’re all molested?”
“Ah...”
“And you were busy too, before you came down here all molested?”
In an impressive recovery, he caught her hand, kissing it with fervent passion. “I was readying yourself for you, my darling!”
Dawn rolled her eyes, swaying where she sat. “You guys are so paying for my therapy.” Pressing her hand over her stomach, she forced her body to look inwards, tried to make it dull the pain, cool itself down or something. A hiss of breath escaped between her teeth. “Damn it.”
His hand still clasping hers, she found Herbert looking at her anxiously. “Do you wish for me to get drugs, cherie?” he asked, closing his other hand around their joined ones. “Or chloroform? I still have some...”
“I think I need to get back to my bed,” she replied, her voice tight with pain. “I can try and make it stop, there... don’t wanna pass out down here...”
Rising on his knees, Herbert slid a hand into her hair, drawing her face to his and kissing her forehead. “I shall take care of you, cherie,” he promised, lowering his head to rest his brow against hers.
Leaning into him, Dawn smiled weakly as he took her in his arms and gently lifted her up. “What about them?” she asked in a whisper, gesturing with her eyes to Alfred and Sarah.
“Oh! Yes!” Turning, Dawn’s arms around his neck, Herbert beamed at them. “I’m afraid father is occupied and he would have you settle yourselves in your usual rooms until tonight.” He pointedly looked at Sarah. “Both of you.”
As he swept past them both, Dawn laid her head on his shoulder. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the soft cotton-wool-like press of dazed confusion from Alfred, but - like a spike in her skull - she felt Sarah’s anger stab at her.
Only when they were halfway up one of the staircases and out of reasonable hearing range, Dawn murmured, “Sarah isn’t going to listen to you.”
Herbert looked down at her, brows drawing together, but she noticed he didn’t question her words. “More fool her, then,” he said, his voice cool. “She knows better than to anger father.”
“She misses him is all,” Dawn said quietly. Grey eyes looked down at her and she knew he knew that they both knew wasn’t the case. “Okay, she gets even more grabby about him than I do...”
Herbert laughed softly. “You can tell that just from the way her face tenses up like a cat’s backside?” Pain tore through her but in that second, Dawn didn’t care as she burst out laughing. “I am terribly sorry,” Herbert said virtuously. “But its true.”
“You really don’t like her, do you?”
“What gave you that impression?” Herbert wasn’t looking at her, but she could hear the curiosity in his voice. “Not simply that I compare her face to a cat’s backside...”
Dawn settled her head against his shoulder. “You remember when they visited and you had Alfred?” she said. Herbert nodded. “When you came back, all three of you, she asked you if Alfred behaved... like she had to ask you...”
“You noticed?”
“Herbert.” Her eyes closed, her voice quiet, Dawn sighed. “I’m stuck in the middle of a gazillion relationships here and I need to know who is doing what with who and why.” She paused to catch her breath. “She doesn’t like that she has to ask.”
“No,” Herbert agreed mildly.
“And you like to make her ask.”
Grey eyes looked down at her in surprise. “Cherie...”
“Don’t you?”
A faint, sheepish grin crossed his lips. “It annoys her so,” he admitted. His eyes glinted wickedly. “Even moreso that I can make her dear little Alfred fall on his back for me with a look.” He blinked. “Oh! I did not even greet the little darling!”
Dawn laughed wearily. “And you groped a girl,” she said softly. “They’re gonna think the world’s gone crazy.” She felt Herbert’s chuckle under her cheek. “Why don’t you like her?”
“Aside from the fact she is a girl?”
“You like me and I’m one.”
Herbert clicked his tongue. “Cherie, you do not count,” he said. “Though they are not visible, you do, indeed, have testicles.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Anyway, I do not like you and would prefer if you would desist in spreading such foul rumours.”
Smiling faintly, Dawn murmured, “K. My bad.”
“Good.” Herbert ran lightly up a staircase, nudging a door open with his foot. “As for Sarah... well, you do not boast of your position or standing with my father.” His nose wrinkled. “She seems to think she has a right to it.”
Opening her eyes, Dawn blinked up at him. “She seems to like me okay.”
Entering Dawn’s room, Herbert hesitated, then looked down at her. “Give it time, cherie,” he said seriously. “She is proud and stubborn, that child, and she does not like anyone who may prevent her from having what she desires.”
Dawn stared at him for a moment. “Your dad...”
Herbert nodded, starting up the staircase. “Perhaps she will be different with you,” he said. “You are female and mortal. Perhaps, that would make it more acceptable for her, but I want you to be on your guard nonetheless.” He carried her to the bed and laid her down gently. “Especially now, cherie.”
As a cool hand was laid against her forehead, Dawn nodded, closing her eyes. “She tries anything with me, she’ll regret it,” she said.
“You will kick her ass, I expect?” There was such an overlay of amusement that Dawn wondered if he really believed she was capable of it.
Blue eyes opened and she saw the surprise in Herbert’s face at her expression. “I can and I will,” she said quietly. She smiled and it was a smile without humour. “I’m a Slayer’s sister, Herbert. She doesn’t wanna piss me off.”
Herbert’s hair trailed against her cheeks as he leaned over her. “Darling,” he said in all sincerity. “I think I might love you.”
__________________________________
The rain was still pattering against the windows as von Krolock drew William to him once more.
Herbert’s departure some time earlier had, alas, been necessary, but William was still receiving ample reward for his courage, his strength and his unquestionable devotion and loyalty.
It was a pity that William had lost Herbert’s generous touch for a time, von Krolock mused as his fingertips stroked from sternum to hip on the boy’s slim form. There was such poetry between his son and this beautiful young creature that loved him.
Laid upon the couch, one of Herbert’s arms beneath his shoulder, he had been so pliant, his body arching with such exquisite tension, that the Graf had found his unneeded breath quite stolen away.
Kneeling by the couch, Herbert’s lips had been ghosting against his lover’s, drinking in William’s every desperate moan and sigh, his son’s skilful hand moving down William’s trembling body, caressing him, lavishing his every affection upon him.
His own hands cradling the boy’s hips, von Krolock had been pressed deeply to him, had lowered his head to kiss William’s bare shoulder, when he had felt the ripple of two familiar minds, close to.
Arching back, tossing his hair back, he had uttered a groan, fingers biting into William’s flesh, and felt his son’s eyes lift to him.
“Father?”
Forcing himself to still, he had whispered, “We have guests.”
“They can wait,” Herbert had replied just as softly, lifting a hand to push von Krolock’s hair back from his face, then lowering his lips to William’s gently, briefly.
Exhaling a breath, the Graf had shaken his head. “Dawn... she awaits them... Sarah will not listen to her...” He had started to withdraw to let his son savour his time with his lover, but felt Herbert’s hand at his wrist, had found the grey eyes gazing up at him.
“Stay, father,” Herbert had said softly. He had looked down at William. Those blue eyes that had been so afraid met the Graf’s and he saw the dazed smile, the subtlest of nods. Grey eyes had returned to his and his son had smiled.
William had been bestowed with a warm kiss, the arm slipping from beneath his shoulders, then Herbert was gone, the door closing behind him.
That was when the Graf had lowered his lips to William’s, kissing him, and had felt a great rise of affection as the boy wrapped his arms around von Krolock’s shoulders, embracing and accepting.
It had been unlike any of their encounters before, fascinating von Krolock.
Without the fear of the inevitable biting that had thus far punctuated their every encounter, William gave himself entirely, fearlessly, offering everything, his touches hopeful, wanting, pleasing.
Thus, the Graf drew him upright and the boy had followed trustingly.
Standing before the mantle, he turned the boy to face the flames, bathing him in the warm, flickering glow. Drawn back against von Krolock’s chest, William trembled like the strings of a harp, plucked and resonating with beautiful sound.
“Am I forgiven, William?” he whispered against the boy’s throat, against that beautiful curve of his neck from which he had so callously almost bled the child until he was nothing but dust.
William’s slender hands covered his, pressing the Graf’s palms to his body in wordless assent, and von Krolock smiled, kissing the soft flesh beneath his ear. His hands turned now, capturing William’s with gentle fingers.
With his head tilted in utter trust, William gasped softly as kisses and gentle nips were lavished upon his skin. Against the Graf’s body, he was shivering with need, his tousled hair brushing von Krolock’s shoulder.
Lifting the hands captured in his, young William’s fingers flexing so wildly and delightfully, the Graf raised them to the stone mantlepiece, pressing William’s palms to the carved stone.
Against William’s back, he shifted his weight, pressed close to him, his lips grazing William’s bare shoulder. Wordlessly obedient to the unspoken command, William’s feet had slipped apart by degrees.
Slipping his hands along the boy’s tensed arms, the Graf felt the muscles quiver beneath his palms. Ribs ridged against his fingertips as they roamed down, snaring the boy’s hips, holding him, gently bracing him.
The soft whimper that escaped the boy was beautiful. His tawny head dropped forward and von Krolock tenderly kissed the nape of his bared neck as he pressed deeper still, so closely joined with William that he could feel the very quivers running down the backs of the boy’s thighs.
On the periphery of his senses, he felt someone approach, heard the door open.
As one, he and William looked towards the door.
The annoyed hiss that escaped William was echoed by his own growl and with a jerk of his head the girl was flung backwards into the hall, the door slamming forcefully shut behind her.
“Stupid bint...” William muttered, a growl underlying his words.
“Sometimes, yes,” von Krolock murmured against William’s shoulder. Then he moved one of his hands just a little way and made William forget all about her.
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Part 2