Why, why didn't it work anymore? A bit of laudanum used to put him right to sleep. Now it only lulled Daniel into a false sense of relaxation, just before it sent him falling through a cascade of emotions. Alexander had been trying to wean him off of the substance, but it wasn't going well. In light of this, Daniel had hidden some of it under his mattress. One of the vials had broken, but there were two still full. When one hadn't done its job he'd taken the other.
That was when he had begun to sweat. His blankets were suffocating, and they had to go. His nightclothes were smothering him, and so he lost those too. Sitting naked on his bed, arms wrapped around himself, he began to feel a bit claustrophobic in his own skin. Nails scratched at his shoulders, but he couldn't get that feeling off of him. Everything was sticky and wet, and when the sudden chills came along he began to feel the itch. Like when blood dried on your skin and began to flake off. He had to get this feeling to go away!
Daniel stumbled off of his bed, and fumbled to light a candle. He carried the candle to the door, ignoring the hot wax that dripped down onto his fingers. Opening the door, he peered out curiously. No servants in sight. There had been less and less of them recently… Stepping out into the hall, he took in a breath of fresh air. The sound of water reached him suddenly, and he knew where to go.
The fountain in the back hall was perfect. Somewhere along the way his candle went out, but the light from the windows welcomed him. They backlit the morbid fountain with bright moonlight, causing it to cast a twisted shadow. Those graceful, cold, smooth stone legs hung so seductively over the edge of the fountain, as if taunting him to join them. He really could have done without the insect like body and the head of a child, but all that mattered right now was the cold, clear water running from the mouth of that cherubic face. Without hesitation, Daniel stepped in to the cool water. It only came up to about halfway up his calves, but that was no matter.
Crisp, cool water splashed onto his face and neck from that steady stream, and Daniel gave a gasp of delight. He rubbed at his skin, wiping off every slimy, sticky, itchy sensation that was ever there. His fresh, clean body felt hypersensitive in the absence of that grime, and each trickle of water sent the most pleasant of shivers through his body. They weren't unlike feather-light touches. Soon enough that water wasn't so cool, his body adjusting quickly to it, and it became the perfect room-temperature.
"Daniel?" Alexander's voice earned a yelp from the startled Englishman, who dropped straight down into a sit, pulling his knees up to his chest as he set near the middle of the fountain. Daniel glanced over his shoulder to observe the Baron heading towards him, dressed in his long robe, with his night shirt under that. "May I ask why you're bathing in my fountain?" It seemed only then did a bit of realization strike the wet young man, and he felt his face growing warm with shame.
"I-I was hot." He explained simply, avoiding Alexander's piercing gaze.
"I see. Are you feverish?" Alexander knelt down by the side of the fountain, motioning with his hand. "Come closer." Daniel hesitated, but eventually he gave in and scooted over to the edge. He kept his eyes down as Alexander felt his forehead. The next thing to be taken up was his chin however, and he looked up on instinct. "Ah-ha, I see what the problem is." Daniel winced, though it was too late now. He knew if he looked Alexander in the face the Baron would see the dilation of his eyes. "Well Daniel, we have two choices here. Either you go back to bed this instant and I forget all about this indecency… Or, I'll join your little game, and we'll keep those nightmares at bay together." Daniel's euphoria had yet to really fade, and so there wasn't even a doubt in his mind.
"Join me." He agreed eagerly, getting to his knees and moving back. Alexander stood, pushing his robe from his shoulders to let it flutter to the floor. His nightshirt was next, and Daniel's lips were curled into a small, almost modest smile. It seems the Baron was already quite aroused, and he wondered how long the man had been watching him stand under the spray of the fountain. Daniel stood as Alexander stepped in to the fountain to join him. Once he was in reach, Alexander's hands reached out to grasp Daniel by his upper arms, pulling him up against that taller body. Their lips came together forcefully, and Daniel nearly lost his breath. That hypersensitivity wasn't quite gone either.
Alexander felt hot against his cooler skin, but this time the heat was only good. Those long and slender fingers were exploring his body at once. Grasping, scratching, tangling into his hair to pull his head back and leave his throat open and vulnerable to Alexander's tongue and teeth. Daniel was trapped in those arms, gasping or groaning as he began to writhe against the Baron. The man could play him like a finely tuned instrument, even when he wasn't currently uninhibited due to laudanum. More than one bruising bite and stinging mark had been raised across his neck, and he was panting heavily.
Alexander soon sat with his back laying against the thighs of the fountain's odd legs. He rest a foot on either side of the centipede-ish stalk in the middle, quite situated where he was. Daniel came to straddle his hips, water cascading over his neck and shoulders, as if shielding Alexander from it. They had no kind of lubricant here, but water was better than nothing at all, which they had made due with before. Besides, Daniel was no stranger to a little pain in order to reach pleasure. In fact, he seemed to have found his own special brand of masochism here in Brennenburg.
Daniel's voice soon filled the back hall, falling out from well-bitten lips in full-throated cries of pleasure, peppered with sharp gasps or hisses of pain. Alexander kept a firm grip on his hip with one hand, while he used a much more delicate and talented one on the Englishman's erection as the centuries younger man bounced up and down over his own. Water sloshed, slapping against the walls of the fountain and overflowing onto the floor, though the slapping was only as loud as the sound of skin being met again and again.
"Alexander!" Daniel would cry out at his peak, his voice echoing from the walls to reach the vaulted ceiling. But he would never stop the rhythm of his hips until the baron had given his own lower, deeper murmur of the Englishman's name which would sound his own climax.
By the time that they were through, Daniel would be much too tired to dream.