I know, I know, another update already. Well, this one just happened all of a sudden. Stanleigh, thank you for your review! It's good motivation. Also, you know me entirely too well, if you're bracing for angst... Enjoy.

Reviews appreciated as ever.

Disclaimer: Young Dracula isn't mine, which is just as well really.

Robin woke to feel bare skin under his fingers and smiled, still half-asleep.
"B," he mumbled, and drifted back into the comforting darkness of unconsciousness.

Bertrand woke with the unusual feeling of something soft against his back, an arm thrown over his side and gentle fingers stroking along the line of one of his scars. He reached down to touch that wandering hand before he could really process the information, aware of a prickle of unease at the back of his mind but reluctant to pay it any attention, focusing instead on the soft touch moving over his abdomen. It was pleasant; the gentle pressure shifted at a leisurely pace, as if the person attached to it wasn't really aware of what they were doing- there was a person attached to the touch.

He tensed, trying to work out where he was, opening his eyes just a fraction so as not to give himself away. He could see the side of the coffin, his coffin, which meant that behind him had to be Robin – but Robin didn't feel like that, all squishy and cushioned. He took a sharp breath and tried to focus. His sire had carried more weight than Robin, but he still didn't feel like this. And why would he have allowed himself to fall asleep with his back to his sire? Why in the same room, even? He wouldn't, he would never have done that if he'd had a choice. Then had Régis crept in and taken Robin away from him while they slept? But he still hadn't felt like that, and Bertrand, much as he hated to admit it, knew all too well what his sire had felt like pressed against his back. Moreover, he wouldn't be stroking Bertrand's scars so gently; he'd have been digging his nails in, hurting, taking-

"Bertrand?" It was a sleepy murmur, muffled somehow, and Bertrand rolled over as fast as he could, expecting to see his sire trying to smother Robin with a pillow or gag him to keep him quiet. Instead, he found himself with a face full of mattress. This, he realised suddenly as the events of the previous night came back to him, could also account for Robin's muffled tone. He swept the mattress between them aside nonetheless, just to make sure – Robin had obligingly moved his arm out of the way – and then, at the sight of his Robin, safe and well and alone, threw himself at him.
"Bran-" He kissed him, pushing him down onto the base of the coffin, trying to show him how relieved he was that he hadn't been hurt. Belatedly, he realised that neither of them had been in any real danger, and Robin was probably somewhat confused about the reason he was being pinned to the floor and smothered in affection. "I thought-"
"Mm. You're OK." His beloved was gazing fondly up at him, apparently too tired to be concerned. "So am I. By all means keep going, though."

By the time Bertrand let him sit up, Robin's lips were swollen and red, his hair more tousled than ever.
"Well, I've woken up worse ways." Bertrand was awake now, though, and his mind was racing.
"I had my back to you. You had your arm round me, and I had my back to you, and... alright, I panicked a little bit. But nowhere near as much as I usually do-"
"So the mattress wasn't such a terrible idea?" Bertrand chose not to answer that, humming against Robin's lips in response instead.
"I missed you," he pointed out when he drew back, and Robin smiled at him.
"I missed you too. But we slept. And we can still reach each other."
"Mm. It felt nice."
"The mattress?"
"You touching me."

Robin stared up at his husband for a moment, seeing only sincerity and a strange sort of hope in his eyes.
"You didn't mind? 'Cos I promise, Bertrand, it was an accident, I was asleep-"
"I liked it." Bertrand kissed him again, taking his time. "I like you."
"Mm, you should marry me then. Oh. Wait." He smirked up at his husband, only to have the smug expression wiped from his face as Bertrand slipped a hand down into his boxers. "Blood. You're very chipper this morning."
"I'm making the most of it." He paused, obviously enjoying Robin's moan and his attempts to rub against his husband's hand. "Is this alright?"
"Fog, Bertrand, if you don't do something I might cry."
"Can't have that." And then, unbelievably, unforgivably, he took his hand away. Robin bit down the frustrated noise that threatened to escape and sat up to check that his lover was alright.

Bertrand was shedding his clothing with ruthless efficiency, and Robin hurried to do likewise, aware that Bertrand wasn't keen on being exposed when others weren't. His husband reached down to help him up as he squirmed out of his trousers, and Robin let him, only to be unceremoniously bundled onto the mattress where it lay on the floor.
"It's been forever since we had any fun on this mattress," Bertrand growled in his ear, "far too long."
"Mm, better fix- oh, blood."

By the time Bertrand crashed down onto the mattress beside him, making a soft noise of complaint as he misjudged his fall slightly and bashed an elbow on the floor, Robin could hardly remember what they'd been talking about before.
"Mm, I think I might fall asleep again." Bertrand chuckled, still rubbing at his injured elbow.
"Go on, then. I might, as well. Clearly we're getting too old for this sort of mischief so early in the morning."
"Never." He rolled onto his side to look at his lover properly. "Did I hurt you? I think I might have been holding onto you a bit too hard." Bertrand hesitated, then rolled carefully away from him.
"Are there marks? Look quickly, I can't do this for-"
"Yes. You can turn round. Blood, I'm sorry, you look like you backed into an angry cat." There were livid scratch marks right down Bertrand's back where Robin had scrabbled for purchase as Bertrand had brought him to the edge of ecstasy and let him fall. "Do you want- I mean, I know it's your back... do you want to put some cream on it?" Bertrand, now facing Robin again, took a deep breath and sat up.
"...Would you mind doing it for me?"

Robin took a deep breath of his own, wasted though it was on his vampiric lungs, and spoke as calmly as he could.
"I'm not sure it's a good idea, they're on your back."
"I know." Bertrand's voice was a little shaky, but he seemed certain of what he was saying. "I'm having a good day, it seems. And... I don't want to push myself too far, but... it would be nice." Robin winced; the scratches must have really stung if he was prepared to brave having his back touched for cream. He went to get it from the medicine cabinet and settled down on the mattress again, next to his husband.
"How about if I sit in front of you and reach round? Does that work for you?" Bertrand nodded, but then held up a hand to hold Robin off while he snagged his underwear off of the floor and wriggled into it. Robin followed suit, then settled down again opposite his lover. "Ready?"

The first touch of the cream, cold against the marks Robin's nails had left – too shallow to last, easily overlooked at the height of passion, but enough to feel in myriad sharp little ways when he lay down – sent a shiver down Bertrand's spine. He closed his eyes and felt his husband pause.
"B? You alright?" He nodded, allowing himself a soft moan as he opened his eyes and Robin continued his work, smoothing the ointment carefully over Bertrand's skin even though he couldn't see what he was doing. Instead, he kept his eyes on Bertrand's face, and Bertrand gazed back, too afraid to let his eyes flutter closed again, though the idea was tempting.
"I'm sorry I hurt you."
"I don't mind." He really didn't; it felt good to know that he'd driven Robin to such wild extremes, just as Robin had made him feel so good. "I like it when you're excited."
"But I hurt you." Bertrand arched his back into the sweep of his fingers and Robin smiled, scratching gently at the spot as one might a cat. "Sometimes we hurt each other by accident."
"Don't you dare turn this into a life lesson, Bran. Just... oh, blood, do you know how long it's been since someone touched my back like this?"
"A long time, I know. Since I was a breather. Are you alright?"
"Very. Don't stop."

Robin worked for a while in silence before Bertrand spoke again, now resting his chin on his lover's shoulder.
"It makes a difference. I never realised before."
"What does, love?"
"Not meaning to. I mean- I don't want to hurt you in my sleep, and you can't let me, but... it's different to doing it on purpose."
"Yeah." His husband kept smoothing the cream over the slightly raised red marks on his back. "What's brought this on?"
"When he dug his nails in, he always meant it to hurt." Robin's hands stilled suddenly, and when he spoke he sounded sickened.
"B, I never- you should have told me, I wouldn't have- oh, blood-"
"Shhh. I'm not panicking. Don't go doing it for me." He nuzzled at Robin's neck, but it wasn't until he straightened up and met his eyes that the fear subsided in Robin's eyes. "I'm alright. Please don't stop."
"I don't want to make you uncomfortable-"
"It's not. Right now... it's nice. Please, Bran, I don't know if I'll be able to enjoy this again for a while." Robin regarded him thoughtfully for a moment longer, then kissed him gently on the cheek and went back to what he'd been doing.

"No exercises today," Robin murmured softly as he added a little more of the soothing balm to his fingers and ran them across Bertrand's back. "This is good, for today. Let's try to hold onto the good."
"I can-"
"If you push yourself too far, you'll end up upset, and just... just this one day, Bertrand, could you take it a bit easy on yourself? I don't remember the last time I saw you happy like this. Peaceful." He got a soft hum in reply and trailed his thumb over the same spot again. "I'm taking that as an 'OK'." Bertrand didn't argue, settling his head on Robin's shoulder again and allowing his own arms to wrap around his lover. Robin shivered as those skilful hands began to caress the length of his spine, leaning forward to kiss Bertrand's cheek and rest his own head just as Bertrand was. Eyes closed, he continued to explore the unfamiliar territory of Bertrand's bare back, making a note of scars he rarely saw and wincing as he encountered the fresh scratches he'd left. "Sorry," he whispered, and Bertrand grunted.
"Barely felt them. Shh." He nuzzled against Robin's neck again, and Robin felt his eyes drift closed in pleasure.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he opened his eyes some time later to find Bertrand similarly passed out on his shoulder. He glanced, bleary-eyed, around the room to check all was as it should be, then lowered his head again and slept.