Nigel leaned against the wall, watching Wally sitting at the large, open window. His skin had a pallid tint in the darkness. Besides football practice and mandatory government education, he wasn't sure Wally would leave his house.

Even now, their hitter remained withdrawn, almost borderline indifferent. Every so often, Wally reached for his neck and causally pressed his fingers over the same spot at his collar bone.

Kuki, curled on the tile floor with her backpack under her head, didn't stir from sleep. Hoagie continued tinkering with his screwdriver and the metal tube on his lap.

"Who's ready for double chocolate shakes with extra chocolate chunks?" Abby announced her presence as she entered the room with a tray of drinks and one she held separately. She briefly glanced at Nigel and he nodded for her to proceed with their plan.

Abby made her way around the small group, passing out the drinks. Nigel took the one she held… the one laced with Baby-Down, a hefty sleeping agent concocted by their best scientists at headquarters. It'd been tested at nurseries, preschools and with much younger siblings.

He sat the drink on the window ledge and scooted it into Wally's line of sight. "Nothing is happening. I think we should call it a night."

"Go. I can keep watch." Wally's eyes never left the skeletal boneyard of a jungle gym down below. The absent moon left the school yard in shadow and the building even darker.

"School starts in four hours. You'll sleep in class if you stay here all night," Nigel said. Logically, it never concerned him in the past if Wally slept through class. Their hitter pulled good enough grades to stay on the football team.

Wally dragged his gaze from the field… No. His attention had been focused beyond the playground and past the parking lot. His eyes were red rimmed and heavy. Still, no amount of goading would get him to sleep more than a few minutes at a time.

"It's fine. I've got this." Wally insisted as he adjusted his sweatshirt and pulled the hoodie over his head. Soft, blond strands curled along the hem.

Frustrated, he nodded and gave the team the signal to gather their gear. "Let's close it up and head out."

Wally sighed and melted against the window frame. His attention drifted back to the dark field. Nigel ignored the wild glare and silently mouthed protests Abby threw at him as he kneeled down beside Kuki.

"Hey, Kuki." He gently nudged her until she rolled onto her back. She gave him a languid smile as she looked up at him with hazy eyes. "It's time to get going."

"Maybe one of us should stay with Wally?" Abby offered.

"I can handle night watch alone," Wally huffed. He almost looked like an angelic vigilante.

The team silently collected their things before shuffling out into the dark hallway.

"You know it's crazy leaving him. How will he explain to the teacher why he's at the school before the doors open," Abby argued.

Nigel threw his backpack to the side. "He won't have to explain anything. We're going to wait an hour and then go back in to get him."

oOo

Wally leaned out the second story window. The chill wind nipped at his skin and tugged at his hair, but it couldn't keep his eyelids from drifting downward. He blinked. Tiredness prickled at his vision. He vigorously shook his head before picking the drink up again. If he kept his body moving, he wouldn't fall asleep.

The thick chocolate shake stimulated his hunger and he sucked on the straw, trying to remember the last thing he ate. Was it dinner? He couldn't recall. The world outside laid in shadow. Nothing stirred. His true enemy was locked away. Nothing to fear. So why did everything inside him feel constantly on edge?

"Okay, Wally, get a grip dude." He whispered under his breath. He slid from his window seat to grab his phone from his backpack. His vision narrowed and he caught himself on the desk seconds before his legs gave out on him.

The darkness hedged the edge of his vision, wrapping its talons at the core of his being. It was so sudden. It left him drifting until fingers wrapped around his biceps and words were being spoken close enough to his ear to jar him from the black jumbled swamps of his psyche.

"Hey, it's just us." The British timbre made Wally sigh.

"Please. Don't let me fall asleep. You can't let me fall asleep." He begged, or tried to beg. His tongue was a solid brick in his mouth. His lips were lead. His head kept falling back, jerking him awake when it felt like he was falling.

A hand cupped the back of his skull, forcing him to lay with his nose against Nigel's neck. He took a deep breath and then another, taking in the scent that solely belonged to their leader; English tea, sugar cookies and vanilla. His mind drifted again.

He had a strong sense of self in a world so dark that not even shadows formed. He tugged at his clothes, relieved that he still wore his team sweatshirt. His skin prickled along his back as if something cold and boney brushed over his spine. He hissed and turned away from it. The solid silence made his ears ring.

"Wally…" the calling began.

His blood drummed in his ears. It was so cold here. So agonizingly frigid and he knew why. The Count inhabited this world in his incorporeal form. The spectral touch felt so real. It glided over his shoulders and down his arms. It pulled at the edge of his sleeve. It stole each breathe he released into the darkness.

"Oh Wally. Sweet, naïve swan. I understand you better than you understand yourself," the crisp, male voice whispered in his ear and along his neck.

He didn't mean to lean back. He didn't mean to find comfort in the strength that wrapped around his arms and torso, drawing him so close. He shuddered. Tension released from his muscles; with it, his will.

"Thump, thump, thump… your heart beats so fast. It's the same surge of adrenaline you get from anticipating your football games, Wally." The voice was so familiar now; so precise and articulate. "I'll protect you. I'll cherish you. Come find me."

He placed a kiss on Wally's collar bone, right next to the last mark. His nerves tingled and tightened. This could work… He was almost sure of it.

oOo

Nigel waited a heartbeat of a second to see if being this close to Wally would wake him. Their hitter had been stretched on the bed, his back arched upward as if there were hooks in his chest trying to lift him off the bed. He hadn't planned to climb onto the mattress and mold his body to the sleeping athlete. He really hadn't planned to push Wally's hair off his sweaty forehead or ease him out of his sweat shirt, but their hitter had calmed down considerably at his touch.

He threw the sweatshirt to the side, and then slipped his arm around Wally's warm chest, trying to ignore his pectoral curves. It worked about as well as ignoring the smell of baby powder on Wally's skin and how his hair curled like ivy looking for something to wrap around.

The tension in his body went lax. His breathing slowed to normal, but he shuddered. His lips parted in a sigh. It drew Nigel's attention to the dip in Wally's neck. He wanted to suck on his skin and the thought made parts of him, the parts that were less noble, twitch with interest.

"Call medic. I want someone here tomorrow morning to look at Wally," Nigel ordered. Hoagie nodded and moved out of the room as Kuki came in with a wet washcloth.

"Are we all skipping school?" Kuki asked with hope. She sat heavily in the chair beside the bed. Her black hair, pulled into a messy ponytail, allowed long, black strands to frame her oval face.

He took the washcloth from her and placed it on Wally's head. "I can handle this alone. The rest of you need to be at the school in case anything new comes from the teenager headquarters."

Kuki shook her head. "This is Wally we're talking about. We should all be here in case this is worse than we think."

"I agree with her." Abby announced her presence in the doorway before entering the large, messy room. Nothing in Wally's space had been touched for months. It wasn't like their hitter to let dust settle on his boxing gloves and hockey equipment. Piles of clothes littered the room, growing no larger or smaller. Lately, their hitter was ghosting through the world.

Wally pressed closer. Nigel's breathe hitch when Wally adjusted his position so his bottom hit perfectly at the junction of Nigel's thighs. His semi-hardness pressed into his best friend before he scooted a fraction. God, the unholy thoughts that creeped through his brain.

Abby took a seat on the side of the bed. The low brim of her hat cast shadows on her beautiful face. "You should tell him."

"Tell him what?" Kuki immediately asked.

Nigel glanced from Abby to Kuki, then rolled his eyes. This wasn't a conversation he wanted to have with either one of them, but Abby was too observant, which made her a great field agent, but a terrible companion when he wasn't even sure how he felt yet. It was vexing and not at all simple like things use to be; should still be in some ways.

"It's above your clearance level, kiddo." Abby gave Kuki a gentle fist bump in the shoulder when the silence stretched too long, and then gently nudged her to stand. "Anyways, call us if you need anything. We'll be right outside the door."

"Why can't we stay here and have a slumber party?" Kuki asked. Her attention drifted over the room crowded with various sporting equipment, laundry, empty food containers, long forgotten board games and miscellaneous tidbits. "If we clear some space right over here—"

Abby tugged harder. "What with the questions? They just go on with the yadda and this and that's … "

The door shut behind the two squabbling teammates, leaving the space relatively quiet. The bedside lamp remained on, casting a warm glow over Wally's angular jaw and pale skin. He watched his best friend sleep, until he started to drift asleep, too.

OOO

Wally splashed cold water on his face. It stung his skin, but it helped chase some of the exhaustion that lingered during his waking moments. The nightmares weren't feeling so much like nightmares any more, which made them worse. His heart raced with endorphins. In turn, the nerves under his skin started to tingle making him hyperaware of his clothes.

He spun around to face the movement he caught at the corner of his eye, but he wasn't quick enough. He was shoved unceremoniously against the counter. It didn't knock the air from his lungs, but his skin pulsed from the adrenaline rush. In seconds, his mind registered the operative who stood before him. It took another couple of seconds for his heartbeat to regulate.

Nigel's sunglasses sat on top of his head. His gray eyes stared with intensity, boring holes through Wally's flimsy wall of confidence. This close, he could feel Nigel's body heat through all the layers of their clothing.

"You're distracted," Nigel stated.

"Yeah, well, I'm still trying to work through whatever you dropped in my drink last night," Wally answered. He tried to stay neutral, but his eyes fell from his leader's eyes, to his nose and lips and back up.

"For the sake of the mission and your ability to function in our unit, we had no choice. You haven't slept in days. You agreed to go to the medics months ago, if this didn't get resolved." Nigel forcefully made his point by invading Wally's personal space. The grip on his wrist remained firm.

This argument was bound to surface, and though he thought of many excuses, they now seemed relevant under his leader's scrutiny. "I've been distracted, yes, but what can a bunch of nerds do for me? I'm not going to take medicine and I'm not going to play test monkey to anything they have brewing up there."

"Those nerds are the very reason we are still commissioned; however, you've giving me doubts on your mental stability," Nigel said, finally releasing his wrists and stepping back. "That's why I asked the medic team to make a house call."

Wally jerked away from the counter. "What? When?"

The double doors to their co-ed bathroom swung open allowing four elementary kids to walk in, wearing white lab coats and carrying leather doctor bags. Two of them wore headband lights meant for operations or auto repairs. Kuki, Hoagie and Abby nearly towered over the small group they followed,

Wally gritted his teeth and shifted his weight when he caught Nigel studying him. Too much was at stake. He couldn't let them realize that he'd been compromised. "Really? You felt you needed enforcement?"

"If the patient would please take a seat over here." A young girl, probably third grade, motioned to the bench. She wore her russet hair in a tight braid and her black rimmed glasses magnified her brown eyes. Her round cheeks had a myriad of light freckles, but it didn't kill her authority.

Wally licked his bottom lip. Stalling went out the window when Nigel's stare sharpened. "So… is this going to be a public thing?"

"If I could trust you, I'd let you have your privacy." Nigel kept his arms at his side. There was no tension in his shoulders, but Wally had seen this stance before. Their leader surpassed him in hand-to-hand combat and other more refined battle techniques.

He kicked away from the counter and wiped his wet hands on his t-shirt. The medics crowded the narrow bench, leaving him a small spot among their open bags and equipment. He really didn't want to place his rump right there, making him a reachable height for their hands to probe and jab.

"It says here that six months ago you took an experimental drug in order to lure and capture the elusive Count." In big block letters, his nametag read, Lexington. He had a mouthful of metal; braces.

Wally shifted, already stiff in his low back from the hard wood and inner stress. "Yes. You did my physical for that operation, doc. I passed with flying colors. This isn't warranted."

"Any lingering side effects? Mr. Uno is concerned that you aren't sleeping." Lexington prattled off his check list on his clipboard. The sleeves on his white doctor's coat were too long, forcing him to readjust them as he jotted his own notes.

"Nothing," Wally lied. He wasn't going to sit in front of his team and explain how the Count terrorized him. He wasn't going to recount how he was slowly losing his stability each night and worse, he was starting to depend on the euphoria it brought. The high was so addictive.

The questions continued; one after the other while the others took turns listening to his chest and feeling along his throat. He allowed them to prick his finger.

"Are we done?" He pulled away before the girl could place a Rainbow Monkey bandage on his wound.

"I would like to examine the bite mark," Doctor Lexington said.

Wally immediately stood. "Out of the question."

"Sit down Wally and let the doctor see the mark," Nigel ordered.

Wally turned towards his leader. If they saw the mark, they would know why he was acting the way he was… They would know that he now shared an intangible link with the Count that nothing could disrupt. He tried. He failed.

"You can give me orders on the battle field, but my body, sir, is still under my control. I don't feel a need to start stripping." Every muscle tightened. If he pressed this too hard, it could be seen as subordination…. But if he got decommissioned would the Count leave him alone?

Nigel kicked away from the wall, dropping his arms to his side. "Wally, how we go forward with this, right now, is your choice."

Heat rushed to his face, which added to his embarrassment. He couldn't get decommissioned. He'd be a sitting duck and he wouldn't remember why when the Count showed up.

He pulled his sweatshirt over his head. The bathroom was cool, but it didn't penetrate the heat that rushed to the surface of his skin. They were going to see the mark. He caught the collar of his shirt and stretched it over his shoulder to reveal the cotton bandage taped to his skin. He didn't have to directly look at anyone to know they were confused. The mission injury was six months old, as far as they knew.

"Why did you wrap the scar?" Nigel asked.

Wally played his fingers over the edge of the tape. He could lie. He just wasn't good at it, for some reason. His parents bought just about anything he said, but Nigel saw the finer holes in his lies.

"Does it matter?" He was past grumpy and it was getting painfully obvious that he was stalling.

"Please remove your hands or take the bandage off yourself," Doctor Lexington ordered.

The treehouse alarms blared, sending the large red emergency lights spinning. The team went into motion, but Nigel stood watching him a second longer.

"This isn't over, Wally," Nigel warned. He slid his sunglasses on and walked out of the door.

Wally stayed back to catch his breath. That was incredibly close. Too close.

He had an inkling in the pit of his gut that Nigel was starting to piece it together.

oOo

The fight was rough. Wally wouldn't want it to play out any other way.

It hurt now, as his adrenaline bottomed out. The water drops found bruises and the tender spots in between. He ran the washrag over his torso and limbs multiple times until pink splotches appeared on his skin. He turned the water off, toweled dry, brushed his teeth and for the first time in his entire life, put lotion on his skin.

His body was exhausted. So was his mind, but the second he laid in bed, he knew he'd never fall sleep. He stared at the ceiling with one thing on his mind; bone deep euphoria. He knew only one source. And he needed it badly.

Oh. So. Bad.

With that thought at the forefront of his mind, he jumped out of bed and grabbed his jeans. It didn't take long to get dressed, slip on sandals and grab his car keys. He slid out of the house and across the yard to his car.

The state penitentiary was forty miles outside the city lines. Forty minutes of that drive would be on a dark road. There were many good reasons not to do this. He didn't allow himself to list even one.

He flipped the radio off when the station turned to static. The lights that surrounded the penitentiary came into view before the silence grew too heavy.

He should have better judgment. He shouldn't be out this late at night to see an enemy.

Yet… here he was, pulling onto a side road only big enough for two cars. The prison was lit up by a number of high beams that chased all shadow off the prison yard. He parked and went to the buzzer on the gate, pressing it down until someone came out.

The guard took one look at him and frowned. "You again? Don't you have school in the morning?"

Wally huffed. "I'm here to see the Count."

"Kid, if I were your daddy, I'd blister your butt for being here this late at night and at a prison no less," the man argued. The rest of his rant turned into mumbling.

"I'm not breaking any rules being here." Wally fought the desire to fold his arms against the cold and his growing irritation. He didn't want the guard to fine him twitchy. It was funny, now that he was hyper aware of his body, that he could feel every little thing that brushed his skin wrong.

"A curfew, probably," the guard mumbled. His keys rattled and clinked against the fence as he opened the gate and allowed Wally in.

The man said nothing else as he inspected Wally for the same items listed on a caution poster straight in front of him. The guard grumbled his disapproval again when it was clear Wally couldn't get turned away.

"Kid, I seriously hope you know what you're doing here. The men housed in this prison…" he finished his thought with a shake of his head and an exasperated huff.

Wally didn't respond. He didn't want to. He knew he was in it bad.

The path from the gate to the building was long enough for his mind to start ticking off the reasons he should turn back. He wasn't sure why he didn't listen. The guard pulled open the heavy steel door and cold air accosted him. He crossed the threshold, ignoring the guilt that started to build in his chest.

He was lying to Nigel. He was putting everyone in danger.

The guard's shoes clipped the clean, tile floor. The painted looked dull under the dim lighting, but the place was clean. The hall opened into a processing room. All doors, from what he could tell, needed a key in order to pass.

"Sign the books," the guard stated, pushing an old ledger to him.

The paper was brittle from the people pressing too hard with the pen. He signed anyways, scribbling a fake name like last time. He had three identity cards to prove he was whichever name he chose. It came complete with a matching library and school card. The guard didn't ask for any of this.

"Have Mario get the Count," the guard told the man behind the bullet proof window.

Wally tampered down his nervousness as he watched the man pick up the phone and dial a number. It felt like the phone would never ring back as they waited in utterly, uncomfortable silence. Finally, the man gave them thumbs up. The door on the opposite wall buzzed and the guard was in motion, pushing the door open and allowing him to step in first.

"Last chance to ditch this meeting, kid," the guard said. When he didn't answer, the man muttered and motioned for him to follow.

He adjusted his hoodie as they passed under the ceiling cameras; he counted twelve. The doors had no windows and he wasn't surprised when the guard opened the door and allowed him to step in. The room felt icy, though he was suddenly sweating under his hoodie. The single bulb allowed so much shadow.

"You held out longer than I thought you would." The Count's masculine, cultivated tone floated from the corner of the room.

Wally pushed back his hood. "I told you to leave me alone, but you don't listen."

"So you came to tell me in person?" His chuckle was less than encouraging. The darkness shifted and tightened, pulling from so many corners as it took form. The Count stood tall in his orange prison suit that hugged his lithe form. His slick, black hair remained pristine.

He swallowed the biting comment on the tip of his tongue. He was suddenly feeling shy. He looked away first, then promptly cleared his thoughts and stared right at the vampire.

"What do I need to do to get you to leave me alone?" That wasn't the real question. The real question was; how did he overcome this strange addiction?

The predator in front of him, smirked. "Do you really want me to leave you alone?"

Wally rubbed at his eyes before he even realized by doing this, he no longer had a direct visual of his enemy. He dropped his hands, but the haze remained in his vision. It felt like helium slowly replaced everything solid about him; organs, muscles, bone…

"Strip." One word, but still an order.

He was use to taking orders; was great at following directions. He had his hoodie and shirt over his head before he could analyze the merits of disobeying. He had his belt unlatched before he snapped out of the heavy haze. "You're controlling me!"

"Don't seem so surprised Mister Beatles. We are beyond this," the Count had the audacity to look bored.

Wally gritted his teeth and bent down to swipe his shirt off the ground. Long fingers wrapped around his arm and directed him up against the wall. His shirt slid from his fingers.

"You want to be a good pet, Wally. You want to make your master happy." The Count's pupils were a fraction darker than his irises.

The Count leaned in and Wally shut his eyes and tilted his head. His breath hitched when cold lips pressed against his skin. The feathery kisses preceded a possessive growl. His breath hitched when the vampire licked up his neck, leaving a cold, wet line against his skin. The kisses became possessive as the Count drew circles around the older bite marks.

"Can't get caught." The kisses stilled. His heart started to speed up. Would the Count take this away from him? Did he risk everything to be here for nothing in return?

The older man's fingers slid from Wally's arms to his hips, drawing a gasp from his mouth. He tried to swallow the sound, by sealing his lips, but the Count chuckled against him. The orange jumpsuit fabric scratched at his bare skin, leaving him hyperaware of his body.

"Never, baby boy. I will never leave you wanton, as long as you promise never to leave me cold." He dotted that statement by thrusting their hips together.

Wally startled. A cocky smirk stretched the Count's mouth, proving he heard right. He'd never get use to the vampire's ability to read his thoughts.

"Take off your pants." The order was whispered against the cusp of his ear.

His crotch twitched at the command. Was his body actually responding to this? "I… I don't think…"

"Don't worry Mister Beatles, I know exactly what I'm doing." The vampire traced along his jaw and down his neck.

oOo

The Count kept his attention on Wallabee Beatles face as he helped the young man step out of his cargo shorts and boxers. He leaned in, breathing in the masculine musk that followed every young stud sporting a healthy libido. The athlete remained flaccid against the tight, dark blond curls.

Like this, naked with goose bumps pebbling his skin, he looked vulnerable. For all his loud, brass behavior, the teen easily blushed. The Count took this opportunity to lick along the valley of muscle that shaped the operative's inner thigh. Wallabee would always depend more on his speed than weight. Though the athlete worked out, his lithe structure would never expand like the professional athletes of this era.

The operative sighed and dropped his head back. His fingers spread wide against the wall, searching for purchase, or a way to escape, but the operative didn't resist. His long legs slid wider, drawing focus to his sun-kissed skin that held the barest traces of reflective daylight. The Count licked over muscle to the inner thigh. He repeated the action, eliciting shivers from his toy. The kid was addicted.

He flicked his tongue over the piss slit. Wallabee sank against the wall, moaning. Free will completely left the human. The Count did it again before pulling the athlete's mushroom tip into the heat of his mouth.

Wallabee drew his bottom lip between his teeth before letting out a soft moan. "Plea… please."

He sucked on his hard flesh, devouring the precome before abandoning Wallabee's cock in favor of the operative's silky sac. It'd been centuries since he took a lover and had almost forgotten the way a feral man tasted at their prime breeding age.

"I'm an old man, Mister Beatles, do not make me wait another minute to hear what you have to say." He teased by sucking Wallabee's nuts into his mouth. He could almost taste the hot, musky spunk protected by the testes within the scrotum.

"I can't be… I can't be doing this. God… umph… they'll… they'll know… uh!" His words loss clarity when the Count sucked the young man's cock back into his mouth while fondling his sac.

"Calm yourself. I didn't hurt you last time and I will not hurt you this time." He stroked Wallabee's outer thighs as he spoke, unsure why he wanted to pacify the youth that caused him so many issues. Yet, here he was, meaning exactly what he said.

Wallabee's head remained tilted back, choosing to focus on the ceiling. "This is so wrong. You're our enemy."

"Am I?" Pleasure coursed through him when Wallabee grunted. The youth wasn't so sure and that brought him more gratification then turning this little virgin into his dotting slave. He stroked Wallabee's thighs until the tension eased enough for him to allow his legs to be parted.

"I've been compromised. I'm putting everyone in danger…" His words remained slurred, drunk on the pheromones the Count pressed into the air specifically for his pray.

"Absolutely everyone, Wallabee." Though he could care less about the tree house or the brats-next-door.

Every inch of hot skin he touched, the young man's warmth seeped into his flesh, allowing him the part of the world that would never be his; the daylight and all the warmth the came with it.

"This is disgraceful," Wallabee moaned, opening his legs wider.

"Utterly disgusting," he cooed in response as he drew his fangs in circles against the femoral artery, loving the moans elicited from his prey. He loved how Wallabee fought his desires.

"Nigel…."

The Count pressed his fangs into the perk flesh. Blood rushed over his lips and tongue; down his throat in hot rivers. He could taste everything that made up Wallabee's day; his sugar intake, his oxygen levels, his testosterone and white blood cells. It painted a picture of his life with every frantic gulp the Count could swallow.

Wallabee turned boneless, forcing the Count to place his hand flat on his bare, hot belly to keep him against the wall. The operative moaned as his hips started the natural procession of humping. A clear, viscous liquid seeped from the youth's penis. The scent permeated the air in the small room. The Count moved his hand down from the athlete's tight stomach to his even tighter shaft, slowly stroking as he suckled from the slit he made in his skin.

It didn't take long before Wallabee's balls drew up. The Count happily moved the direction of his focus to his mushroom tip; his mouth now both hot and wet from the blood. Wallabee watched him with hazy eyes; his pupils so large that he looked utterly trashed.

"We shouldn't…" he threw his head back as the orgasm hit him hard.

Spunk, hot like his blood, but with a taste so utterly different and still full of life, slid down his throat. He kept Wallabee pinned to the wall as he took every last bit of sperm. It was so utterly delicious. He wanted more, but the guard would be back.

The man left Mister Beatles in longer this time, and still, there were no distant footsteps indicating that he'd be coming any time soon to collect him. The Count stood and gathered Wallabee in his arms. The young man shivered.

Like this, the hitter was utter putty in his hands, allowing himself to be pulled to the stone floor and arranged so that he laid his head on the Count's chest while the Count played with his long, blond locks.

He liked this foul mouthed, rowdy human, passive like so. He found it gratifying that the human allowed himself to be cuddled, which wasn't a part of Mister Beatles hardcore, independent personality. He didn't fight the Count's other hand that gently rolled up and down his spine. He didn't argue or jerk away at being pulled almost on top of the Count's hips, letting his leg fall between the Count's in total submission.

He absolutely loved this timid, strung-out Wallabee Beatles.

And love, for someone his age, was utterly surprising.