Disclaimer: Van Helsing, Carl, and Dracula are not mine (grr).
Author's Note: You're all too nice to me. Thank you for great reviews from Mouseisi (very amusing review ... got a smile out of it), Arche De Katze (love the name), The morrigan three, Iric S, Caryn de Lioncourt (mmm ... That vamp you described kinda sounds like Angel from the TV show ... I wouldn't mind him at all, haha ... And, yes, I envy our friar as well), Mercuria, an anonymous reviewer, and, of course, Alysha. This chapter is for all of you! muah
NOTE: Ok, I'm in serious need of your help. I've got three names (song titles from a new musical called Wicked) and I want you all to tell me what you think the name should be! Tell me through reviews, please! These are the titles: No One Mourns the Wicked, What is this Feeling?, and As Long as You're Mine.
WARNING: The rating has been upped and there's major slash. If serious slash scenes disturb you, don't read on.
Chapter Five:
Carl tossed and turned in his sleep. In his dreams, nightmarish demons plagued his thoughts. Lustful images filled his mind. And Dracula was always there.
He bolted awake. Drenched in cold sweat, he looked around with panicky eyes. The sheets were clammy with Carl's perspiration. His breath was heavy. Something had woken up him up, but he didn't know what.
A breeze hit him. It was as cold as the arctic ice, but somehow soothing as the sun of spring. Upon looking around, he found that the window was open. 'Funny ... I'm sure I closed it ... I must've forgotten to close it in my worry.'
He stood up and closed the window. As soon as he turned around, he jumped. Then he sighed. It was only Van Helsing.
"Are you feeling alright, Carl?" The hunter asked with a slight raise of an eyebrow. "You seemed very ... skittish today."
"Yes yes ... I'm fine." Carl walked back to his bed and climbed in on the dry side. "Just a bit wound up about this whole Dracula problem again. You know," he smiled nervously, "the usual."
Van Helsing nodded, though he did not look convinced. "I heard you whimpering in your sleep," he said. "I thought I should check on you." He looked around a bit, getting a funny feeling. "I'll go now. Since you're alright." Van Helsing left, but scanned the room momentarily before walking through the door.
'Why didn't you tell him what was going on, you coward?' Carl sighed and closed his eyes. 'He'd have been able to help ... You know that. But what if you don't want help? Don't be stupid ... You know you don't help. Shut up!' He opened his eyes and gave another start. Standing before him was, you guessed it, Count Vladislaus Dracula.
"I told you I'd see you tonight, Carl, my friend." Dracula made his way around the room, and seemed to glide more than walk. "This castle has changed since I resided here." He turned suddenly turned and looked at Carl. "Do you know whose room this was, Carl?"
"The slut's?" He swallowed a bit.
"She slept where she worked," came the vampire's reply. "No, my dear Carl, it was mine. When I was younger ... No more than ... Seventeen, perhaps." He mused for a moment. "But that was a long time ago," he waved his hand, "it's nothing to worry about now." He walked - or glided, it was still unnoticeable as to which he was doing - back over to Carl. "You, on the other hand," he looked down at the trembling Friar, "are a concern."
He leaned down and kissed Carl. This wasn't like the last one he'd given him, though. It was slower. Sweeter. And, although Carl's body had tensed up momentarily, it made him relax. Without thinking, he returned the kiss (A/N: some Friar Carl is, ha- ha), which made Dracula smile (an evil smile) inwardly. His hand ran down Carl's neck and drew him closer. In response, Carl gripped slightly at Dracula's collar. Boots sounded in the hallway.
Dracula broke the kiss off and stood upright. Carl sat up as far as he could in an attempt to recapture the kiss, but failed. By this time, the vampire was at the window. Without saying anything to Carl, he jumped out the window.
Carl stared after the window longingly as the boots walked past towards the tower. He lied back and sighed. Closing his eyes, he licked his lips and ran a hand down his neck. A shiver shot through him. 'This can't be happening ... I can't ... But I do ...'
He sat up and grabbed a torch. Leaving the window open and the sheets on the bed tussled, the friar made his way out to the hall. His feet made a soft pattering sound as he hurried towards the map. He met Van Helsing on the way there.
"Carl, what are you doing?" Van Helsing looked Carl over suspiciously.
"I was just ... On my way to the tower," Carl lied. "I've got this feeling ... I might be on to something."
Van Helsing nodded. "Good. We could use all the information we can get." He walked past Carl, and, soon went out of sight.
Feet pattering a bit more, Carl made his way to the map. He went through the door and hopped around a bit. 'Cold on the feet!' He practically ran into the castle. Which way? Carl's head swiveled back and forth. 'Let's try ... Left.' So that's the way he went.
And, of course, he got lost. 'Dammit.' He got an annoyed face then turned around.
"Carl." Dracula raised an eyebrow down at him. "I didn't expect to see you so soon." Another smirk. Another hand trailing down the friar's neck.
Carl gasped. "I ... I ..." He was backed against a wall. "You can't just expect me to melt at your touch." He swallowed.
"I can't?" Dracula pressed himself against Carl.
"No ... I won't ... I won't stand for it." The friar's voice wasn't in it. He was staring at Dracula's chest and couldn't help run a hand down it.
"I'll bet you wouldn't ..." The vampire let the tip of his tongue run down Carl's earlobe slowly.
Carl bit his lip and he leant against Dracula heavily. Dracula left a trail of kisses along Carl's jaw line until their lips met. With a sigh, our friar kissed the vampire softly and the vampire, in return, ran his tongue along the roof of our friar's mouth. Carl shivered. The Count put his hands against the wall and pressed against Carl more then broke off the kiss. Silently, and ignoring Carl's confused look, he led him into a room that decorated lavishly with silks and satins.
Before anything was said, the two were locked in a rough kiss. Both fell upon a bed that was dressed in fine black silk. Carl began tearing at Dracula's shirt, as Dracula was doing to him. Then Dracula bit at Carl's neck. Fangs weren't involved, oh no, but it still drew blood. Carl inhaled sharply. Kisses were being spread over him wherever skin was exposed. He pulled up Dracula's head and kissed him hungrily.
Soon both men were unclothed and Carl was on his stomach breathing heavily and savoring the kisses that were being dispensed down his back. Dracula ran his hands down Carl's sides and slowly pushed himself into the friar. He started thrusting at a steady pace and bit on Carl's neck again, only, this time, fangs were involved. A sharp inhale emitted from Carl and he couldn't help letting out a soft moan.
Dracula pulled Carl roughly against him to increase the thrusts, and he threw his head back. He groaned loudly. Carl squeezed his eyes closed tightly. His hands gripped the sheets securely. The vampire left nail marks in the friar's sides as his groans got increasingly louder. Feeling Carl, and himself, tensing up, Dracula pushed into him forcibly until both men let out loud cries and collapsed in a heap together.
Author's Note: Just to inform you all, when Carl said "The slut's?", he meant the kitchen maid. I learned, in English the other day, that kitchen maids used to be called sluts. Hehehe.