Apparently I ship all the things. But nah, this isn't so much a ship as something that slipped into my head and wouldn't unwrite itself. It's just a crush! One-sided slash. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Bertrand was beautiful, a beautiful rush of curls and fists and fangs executing a deadly dance, alone in the training room – only not alone. Bertrand feinted left and darted right, appearing on the other side of the punchbag before the inanimate object could know what hit it – and hit it he did, repeatedly, before reaching back for his stick.
Ah, the stick. The things Bertrand could do with that stick – he could make it sing as it swept through the air, he could stop your thoughts with it. He could stop your heartbeat, if you had one and he felt like it. For now, though, he simply swung it in graceful arcs around himself, powerful muscles guiding the wood until it was impossible to tell where the vampire ended and the weapon began.
It was inappropriate, he knew – his family would be appalled if they knew how much time he spent hiding down here, just watching Bertrand train. They certainly wouldn't approve of the adjectives he used to describe the tutor in his head. They'd scold him for his shameful crush on the older man, and he would be embarrassed.
But he could wait. Bertrand wasn't getting any older, after all – at least, not physically.
And Wolfie was.
