A/N Thought about posting this chapter separately so that I could keep this story a 'T' but in the end I couldn't be arsed with the extra hassle so, FYI: the rating has now changed to 'M'.
Chapter Eleven
Approaching the side door of the house, Dracula tucked the gift he had purchased for Agatha under his arm so that he could locate the keys. The alternative was to relinquish his hold on her hand and he'd not done that since they'd left the church, not even when he'd paused in the narrow lane that led to their current abode to kiss her again, using the connection to tug her back towards him. It seemed imprudent to cede such an advantage though she had been more than willing to return his kisses thus far and it had been Agatha who had instigated this new form of intimacy between them. She had also hinted at further forms to come but he was not allowing himself to think too far ahead; kissing seemed a big enough step for one day and he was still willing to wait for anything more. Recent events had proven that he would do almost anything for her, even if it went against his instincts, because he was ridiculously in love with Agatha.
When the Jonathan Harker Foundation had attempted to make his life difficult his first instinct had been to retaliate; the warlord in him had thirsted for revenge, had wanted to tear his way through every throat in the Foundation, but Agatha had vowed to leave if he spilt one unnecessary drop of blood. With that plan thwarted, he had suggested abandoning England for a sunnier climate to evade both the investigation into Dr. Helsing's disappearance and the Harker Foundation. He had come to this island for the intelligence and sophistication but whilst they may have been plentiful traits in the nineteenth century, he had found the twenty-first to be sorely lacking; it was possible that nightclubs and dating apps were not prime hunting grounds for such flavours but it was a moot point now because his tastes, his desires, had since changed. He wanted Agatha but she wanted to remain, perhaps because this was where her descendants had settled.
He'd eventually conceded that her plan to impersonate Zoe would be both simpler and less bloodthirsty though he had insisted on accompanying Agatha to the police station where he had mostly sat in quiet awe as she had convinced the authorities she was Dr. Helsing with nothing more than her natural charm and a borrowed English accent that, to his relief, she had not adopted permanently. It was unclear just what the Harker Foundation had hoped to achieve though it was safe to assume that they would continue to pursue him - and probably Agatha, too. Her efforts to 'save his arse', as she had phrased it, had revealed to all concerned that Agatha cared about him. In response, they had tasked Frank with investigating legal ways to defeat their enemy whilst he and Agatha had kept out of sight. Until today, anyway.
Agatha had insisted on taking the short walk towards the High Street with the aim of visiting the church she had noticed when they'd first arrived in town. The church had not interested him but her reasons for going there certainly had though he had not suspected that she'd come out of God's house wanting to kiss a devil. Maybe He did work in mysterious ways after all.
Unlocking the door, he had to reclaim her gift from under his arm so that he could usher Agatha inside the house without letting go of her hand. It was a juggle to reclaim the keys, close the door and slide the bolt across with just one hand but worth it when the tasks were completed and her hand was still in his. Dumping the contents of his other hand onto the nearby kitchen counter, he gently pulled at her hand, smiling as he ordered, "Come here."
"You're very eager for somebody who professed they'd be able to wait another day," Agatha replied but she did not resist in any way, moving willingly towards him with a small smile on her lips. When her feet met his she came to a stop and raised her free hand to his chest, resting her palm lightly in the centre.
"Able but not particularly willing," he smiled back, moving his free hand to her hip, his fingers curling around the curve. Her smile grew wider in response; it was a shame to chase it away but he needed to kiss her again so he slowly dipped his head, almost making it halfway to her mouth before she intercepted his descent, her lips pressing against his own rather delightfully. All the kisses that they'd shared had been sweet, almost chaste, but he was not complaining. He had not lied when he'd told her that it had been a long time since anybody had kissed him but it went deeper that that; he could scarcely remember the last time someone had kissed him because they had desired him and not because they wanted something from him or to attempt an escape. Nor could he recall any occasion when he had kissed someone simply because he loved them.
Dracula kissed her again and again, sweetly and gently, wary of pushing her too fast or too far but whilst he was content to move slowly, Agatha apparently was not. Her hand slid slowly up his chest to his shoulder before snaking around the back of his neck, where she scraped her talons into his hair. A low groan of pleasure and surprise escaped his lips, the sound brushing against hers on its departure as he released her mouth in favour of focussing on her eyes. They sparkled with delight and a smile crossed his own lips, finding her pleasure at evoking such a response from him to be highly contagious. "Agatha Van Helsing, I don't believe you need to practise kissing at all."
Still grinning, Agatha shrugged slightly, "Then perhaps we should move on to the unwrapping."
His smile slowly faded as he searched her eyes for any hint of uncertainty, "Are you absolutely sure?"
"Yes," she affirmed without hesitation, her grin now a small smile perhaps because he had sought out further confirmation. The hand that was entwined with Dracula's gave him a reassuring squeeze and she pressed a brief kiss to his mouth before confessing, "I want you. I want us. I want that dream we shared."
A somewhat dazed smile was the only reaction he could manage as he took in the enormity of her words. She had intimated as much in the churchyard but this time there was no room for doubt: she wanted him and in the most sinful of ways. More than that, she wanted an 'us'. Nobody had ever asked for so much from him; not the bride that had been chosen for political reasons and certainly not the brides he had acquired by even more nefarious means. Jonathan Harker had jumped hundreds of feet into a river, and then begged to be staked, rather than remaining by his side. But not Agatha; he had torn her mortal life to shreds and condemned her to the un-death that she had always feared and she still desired him. He was going to spend eternity fulfilling all of her desires.
Any notion of teasing her for having fallen so far had been muted by her honesty and forthrightness so he kissed her instead, sliding his hand across and up her back to press her closer. At the same time, Agatha shook her hand loose of his and moved it upwards to join its partner behind his neck, pressing her chest into his. Though they could not possibly get any closer he wrapped his other arm around her to try but the restrictions of his suit jacket reminded him just how over-dressed he was. It felt wrong to let her go so quickly but her hands continued to cradle the back of his head and neck, and her lips remained fused with his, as he quickly shucked off his jacket, blindly flinging it on to the kitchen counter, before taking her back into his arms.
Without the jacket they were a little closer but there were still too many layers between them. Continuing to trade soft kisses with Agatha, he slid his hands down to her hips and gently manoeuvred her towards the large pine table that dominated the kitchen area. He lifted her onto the surface with ease and she parted her legs, allowing him to stand between them and continue kissing her. She had told him that she wanted the dream they had shared but he was not about to take her on the table; that had worked when only their minds had been joined but in reality it was hard and uncomfortable. He knew that her chastity had shown more resilience than her wavering faith - her mind was far too exquisite for him not to have rummaged around the naughtier corners when he'd had the opportunity - and he wanted her first time, physically anyway, to be memorable for the right reasons.
Running his hands down towards her thighs, his knuckles brushing against the table's surface as his palms moved against her dress, he paused when he reached her knees. Pressing one last kiss to Agatha's lips, he stepped back slightly to appraise the situation. Her dress was long enough to reach her boots, forcing him to slip one hand beneath the garment to run the back of a finger across the line where the leather rim met her leg. He searched out her eyes as he moved his finger slowly across her skin, enjoying the way she stared hungrily at him in response. The boots were his favourite purchase though the choice had been all hers; less utilitarian than what she'd been wearing the night they'd met, the extra height they provided also brought her face a little closer to his, which had paid off beautifully today. But they could not stay, "These need to go."
Nodding an agreement, she released her hold on his neck to sit back, her palms gripping the edge of the table in anticipation as Dracula dropped down to the floor in front of her. "I like this," she smiled widely at him, his eyes having never left hers during his descent. "You on your knees before me."
Grinning at all of the possible connotations of her words, Dracula wondered if she had even considered any of the more risqué options. At some point, much further down the line, they would have to revisit this confession of hers but for now he focussed on tugging down the zipper of her boot. When he reached the bottom he paused to enquire, "What else do you like, Agatha?"
"I like kissing you," she admitted without much hesitation, causing Dracula to grin once more as he tugged the boot from her foot, his hands then moving to stroke the bare skin of her leg. In corroboration of her statement, or perhaps in retaliation for the way he was caressing her, she reached for his face with one hand and slowly ran the thumb across his bottom lip.
For a long moment, he could only stare back at her, his mouth still hanging open from her touch even though her hand had returned to the edge of the table. Maybe he had underestimated her; she may not have much experience but Agatha was always thorough in her studies and was not afraid to then put that research to the test. It was incredibly easy to access all kinds of information in this day and age, and Agatha had a propensity to take both his phone and laptop at will. Her curiosity had led her down some dark paths previously, for which he would always be grateful. However, he had to concede that even the slightest touch from her was enough to stoke his arousal and she had not needed the internet to figure that out. Her obvious enjoyment in provoking him had a similar effect.
"That is most fortunate," he finally replied as he began to remove the other boot. Making quicker work the second time, he placed the boot under the table next to its partner and rose to his feet, placing his hands besides her thighs so that he could hover over her. "Because I'm not sure I'll ever be able to stop kissing you," he whispered and angled his head down to kiss her.
Agatha pressed a finger to his lips, preventing him from claiming her own once again. When he frowned slightly at her in response, she ran her finger down his chin and then onto his chest, her eyes dropping too as she slipped her digit onto the triangular patch of skin that his shirt failed to cover. Tugging at the shirt where the top button was fastened she met his eyes again, "As I won our little game, I think I should get to unwrap you."
Chuckling softly, Dracula stepped back and broke all contact between them. It was endearing that she refused to admit defeat - it was a character trait he truly admired - but in this instance he really didn't care who had won or lost; he would've waited an eternity for her so anything less than a century could be considered a victory in his favour. Besides, the real prize was Agatha herself and here she was, ready and willing to give every last piece of herself to him. It seemed unfair to deny her anything when she was willing to give so much. "If you insist," he said, holding out a hand towards her. Chivalry might be a dying art in this century but he was not about to let it expire completely, not where Agatha was concerned anyway. "But not here."
Taking his hand, Agatha slid from the table, her bare feet dropping onto the floor with ease and she let him tug her towards the staircase. She remained silent throughout their ascent but every time Dracula glanced over his shoulder at her, she flashed him a wide smile and gently squeezed his hand in response.
At the top of the stairs, Dracula paused until Agatha had cleared the final step and then stole another kiss. When they had arrived at this house she had expressed no preference for either of the bedrooms so he had taken the larger one, though the difference in size was marginal. But right now the sun would be focussed on the bedroom in which Agatha had been sleeping and the thought of seeing her naked, of having her, in the sunlight drew him towards that room and Agatha offered no dissent. When he pushed open the door he found the curtains drawn, the bed lit up by the sun's rays and he turned back to Agatha to share the reason for his choice of room but she was not interested in the amount of light in the room.
Both of her hands immediately reached for his shirt, her face a picture of concentration as she began to work the buttons loose. It was a mesmerising sight, one that he did not want to interrupt so he watched in silence and intrigue as her hands slowly neared his trousers. There was no sign of hesitancy as she tugged his shirt from his trousers and continued to undo the buttons; nor did she hesitate to pull his shirt apart when that task was complete, her hands brushing against his skin as she pushed the material over his shoulders, exposing his chest. At that point, her hands reached for his skin, running her palms slowly up his chest and he shrugged off the shirt himself, allowing Agatha to move her hands to his shoulders and then down his upper arms. Curiosity and excitement tinged her focus as she explored his flesh, carefully cataloguing every inch of skin in a way that made him suspect she'd been thinking about this for some time.
Dracula revelled in that thought for a brief moment until her hands moved lower down his chest, following the thick line of hair that led over his belly, at which point the breath of air that he had to suck in at the contact robbed him of all coherent thought. It did not temper the desire that was burning inside him or the bulge that was growing in his trousers. The latter had not gone unnoticed by Agatha and she raised her eyes to his as she palmed his trouser-covered dick. It was simultaneously too much and not enough, and he had to reach for her hand to still her motions, regretting the way it made her smile falter. "You're wearing far too much, Agatha," he whispered, his voice gruff.
Smirking in a way that made him believe she knew exactly why he'd stopped her fondling him, she nodded her agreement and removed her hand from his body. "Would you like to unwrap your gift?"
"Very much," Dracula grinned, voice still low, as he ran his gaze over her dress one last time, the colour of which matched her eyes, before slicing his thumbnail down the middle of the garment, from the high neckline to below her hips; one did not carefully peel back the wrapping when the gift inside was so delectable. He would buy her another dress, more if she so desired - or she could walk around naked - but Agatha did not appear too distressed by the loss. He parted the dress with more care, slowly sliding it down her shoulders and arms, then over her hips to pool around her feet. His eyes followed the garment's descent, taking in every inch of pale skin that it exposed and when his gaze hit the floor he breathed out a, "Beautiful."
He had taken great delight each morning in admiring, openly and verbally, whatever outfit Agatha had recently purchased; he had considered snooping through her search history to discover what she had been buying in advance but the anticipation of what each day would bring had been far more enticing. The downside was that he had no idea what she was wearing beneath her clothing. He had offered to do her laundry but she had only scowled in response, immediately wise to his motivations. But now he knew that her underwear was understated and virginal white, which couldn't have been more appropriate. His eyes roamed back up her body, taking more time to appreciate the view.
Agatha was slim, lean in places, but her body was strong like her mind and her spirit, the latter of which was responsible for the little defiant jut of her chin that had now appeared. She had been so bold until this moment and it both pained and confused him to know that she was apprehensive about baring her body to him. She was, without a doubt, the most enchanting creature he had ever met. Placing both hands on her hips, fingers brushing softly against her skin, he smiled down at her and repeated his previous statement, "So, so beautiful."
The words were enough to soften her features and encourage a small smile to break out across her mouth but he kissed that away, slowly moving his hands up to her waist as he pressed his lips against hers. Kissing her again, he moved his hands further up her body, reaching her bra where he paused to rub his thumbs over its contents. Agatha gasped against his lips and he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, sliding briefly against her own before reverting back to soft, sweet kisses as he continued to caress her breasts. Blazing a trail along her jaw with his mouth, he used his nails to slice open her bra; it would ruin that garment, too but he'd add it to the list of clothing he needed to replace.
The pieces that of cloth that had once been her bra fell easily from her body as he kissed his way down her neck. When his mouth met her collarbone he curled one arm under her arse and the other across her back to lift her into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his shoulders in response, a soft moan falling from her lips when he took one small pert breast into his mouth; that moan was repeated when his teeth grazed her nipple and one of her hands edged into his hair to scrape her nails across his scalp in either pleasure or retaliation. Whatever the motivation, her responses went straight to his dick and he lavished the same attention on her other breast, her reactions no less vibrant for the repetition.
Carrying them towards the bed, her grip on him still tight, he released a hand so that he could crawl into the centre and lower her gently onto the sheets. As soon as her back hit the bed she released her legs from his waist but kept her arms around his neck and shoulders as he slowly teased his mouth up her throat towards her lips. Moving the arm that wasn't supporting his weight, he reached down between their bodies and stroked his fingertips over her knickers. The sound of her sharp intake of breath at the contact mingled with his own groan at the dampness he discovered there. Stilling all movements, Dracula took a moment to regain control of himself but the way she was laid out on the bed before him made it a struggle.
Agatha, bathed in the warm rays of the sun with her hair fanned out around her head, her lips thoroughly kissed and her blue eyes boring into his with open desire, made it clear that she did not want to wait any longer. With the leg that was slightly bent at the knee, she pushed her hips towards his hand, pressing herself against him as she whispered, "Please… Vlad."
A low growl rumbled out of his chest, his control faltering as he shredded her last remaining piece of clothing. Sharp nails and the speed of a vampire made quick work of his own remaining clothes, with only his shoes surviving the onslaught, and he was back in her arms in seconds, settling himself between her thighs. He kissed her again, reaching between them to position himself at her entrance and began to gently push inside. He'd wanted to watch her face, to savour the moment they connected completely, but the sensation of her body drawing him in, combined with the effort it took to go slowly, and gently, had him screwing his eyes shut instead. They remained closed when his hips finally met hers and he stilled, resting inside and upon and above her for a long moment as he tempered every animalistic urge that screamed at him to rush this, to rush her.
When he finally opened his eyes, the beast tethered once more, he found her eyes on his and, despite all his efforts, a frown creasing her forehead. "Agatha, are you okay?"
Agatha nodded slightly. "It's… strange but not entirely unpleasant," she smiled briefly at him though the frown soon re-appeared, suggesting that it had little to do with her own discomfort. "Are you okay?"
A lie was on the tip of his tongue before he could even think of stopping it but he managed to quash it before it left his lips. "I don't remember this ever feeling so intense," he admitted because she deserved the truth even if it cost him everything. It seemed such a small price to pay. The reward for his honesty was the smoothing out of her frown and a kiss, short but sweet and worth the toll he had just paid, as was the small smile residing on her lips. She was putting all of her trust and faith, and maybe even her love, in him; he didn't deserve any of it but he was going to take everything she was willing to give him.
Resting on his forearms, Dracula slowly rolled his hips, first one way and then the other, varying the angle and amount of pressure, as he watched her features closely for the smallest signs of pleasure. However, it was her sharp nails pressing against his back, one set between his shoulder blades and the other much lower, and the soft sighs that left her lips that steered him towards smaller circles, barely moving inside her but grinding against her body delightfully instead. Pressing kisses to her lips, her cheeks, her jaw, he gradually increased his pace, her fingertips now actively digging into his flesh and her moans of approval driving him on. It was the sweetest of agonies to hold back, to give rather than take, to focus on her pleasure and not his own. But his own was threatening to break loose.
In the dreamworld it had been much easier to sate her sexual desires because his own had simply not existed; the opiate and mental link were a means to satiating a different kind of desire. He had never derived sexual gratification from any of his dream encounters and the morning he had drank her poisonous blood he had not even sated his hunger for food. The pain of drinking what was the mortal equivalent of battery acid had sharpened his focus to Agatha's pleasure alone and he struggled to replicate that level of control. Now that he could truly experience how it felt to be inside her, to have her skin pressed against his own, her breasts rubbing against his chest and her hands clawing at his back, his willpower was weakening.
He kissed his way down her neck, continuing to twist his hips against hers, before pausing at the jagged scar that marked the weeks he had spent feeding from her to suckle the lighter strip of skin and Agatha suddenly exploded beneath him; her body tightened around him, her nails pierced his skin and his name fell from her lips once more. The last few circles of his hips were sloppy, an attempt to prolong her orgasm before succumbing to his own and he managed one small thrust before erupting deep inside her, a groan emanating from his own depths, the only thing he felt capable of vocalising before slumping on top of her.
Any further movement felt far beyond his current ability but her arms held him in place and her fingers rubbed small circles along his spine, silently reassuring him that he could stay exactly where he was and Dracula smiled against her neck because he was, most decidedly, in heaven.