"Beyond Death"
A Vincentaker roleplay (Co-writer: Stickiebun)
Chapter 3Author's note: For those who have left reviews, you have my thanks.
~xox~
The next morning, Vincent moaned and rolled over-or attempted to do so as his legs stayed put and he became aware of a weight laying across them. confused and annoyed, he opened his eyes and sat up, cradling his head as the effects of a hangover also made itself known. It was not a good morning.
With a sigh, he looked down at his legs, finding Undertaker laying across them, fast asleep. A trail of drool soaking the blankets under his cheek.
What?
He looked around, realizing he was not at home...what had happened last night? Had he actually drank that much?
"Hey..." Vincent nudged the reaper's shoulder, "Wake up."
Undertaker came awake with a groan, just as disoriented as his companion. He wiped the drool away and looked around, wondering how Earl Phantomhive ended up in his bed. Fuzzy memories from the night before came back to him, and he grinned despite the pain in his poor head. They obviously didn't have sexual relations...which was a good thing. He wanted to remember every moment of it, when it happened.
"Morning, Vincent." He sat up and stretched. "We really tied one in, didn't we? How's your noggin feeling?"
"Like I got trampled by a horse or two..." he groaned, pulling his legs up to his chest and rubbing his tingling calves and thighs, "Did you sleep like that all night?"
Undertaker dragged his hair out of his eyes and shrugged. "Probably." He tossed a toothy grin at the Earl and winked. "I sleep like the dead, you know."
"You made my legs feel like the dead." Vincent shrugged, then sighed and leaned forward, pressing their lips together-still tasting residue of the port on his lips.
Undertaker kissed him back, hardly minding the lingering scent and flavor. His hangover, however, sufficiently muffled his lust, the throbbing in his head overpowering his libido. "Your carriage should be here soon," he murmured. "Care for some ginger water to rinse the aftertaste out, followed by some coffee?"
"Please." The young man nodded, moving to stand and holding his pounding head, "No more drinking port so early in the day for us, though...this isn't pleasant..."
The ancient reaper laughed...and immediately regretted it. "Oh, my poor old head," he complained, putting a hand to his forehead. "You'd think I'd build up a tolerance, as long as I've been alive. I honestly don't imbibe that heavily very often, though."
He got off the bed and offered a hand to the young man. "Come, my lord. Refreshment awaits."
The Earl nodded, taking his hand and moving to lean against him as they walked to the kitchen together.
"Here we are, my dear," said the reaper as he pulled out a chair at the table for the young man. "Just have a seat and relax, while I pour the ginger water and set the kettle to brewing."
Despite his pounding headache, he whistled a soft tune as he worked. Perhaps he hadn't gotten down his pants to claim his perfect ass, but waking up with Vincent in his bed had been a treat. "I hope you don't mind your coffee black, Earl. I plan to go to the market today for groceries, but until then I've no cream or milk."
"While my taste buds would protest, it would help my head." Vincent said, leaning back in the chair, tempted to curl up and go back to sleep if only to escape the pounding in his brain. "Uhhg, I always forget I hate drinking until after I start drinking and it's too late to go back..."
"It does have a tendency to sneak up on a fellow that way," agreed the mortician. He finished pouring the infused water and he brought Vincent's beaker over to him. "Here, this ought to settle your stomach a bit, too." He sipped his own water as he went back over to the hearth and warmed the coals to boil the pot.
"On the matter of the killer," he called out, remembering what had led to their binge in the first place, "I'd probably start with finding out which brothels our fine, dead friend might have frequented, and ask around if he had any recent, new lady friends. Just watch your back while you're investigating it and even if you think you're onto something, don't make it obvious. All we need is for you to get a dagger in the back because someone knows you're getting too close to the truth."
"Brothels?" Vincent frowned and sighed, "You're right, of course, but..." he shivered. He had no desire to go to such a place-even on an investigation.
The mortician understood Vincent's hesitation. "You don't have to go in yourself, of course. All you need do is find out which-if any-brothels Officer Tully may have visited before his demise and should your inquiries lead you to one, send in one of your servants to inquire which whores he favored."
He thought about what he just said and he frowned into his beaker as he sipped more of his ginger water. "Or if you're worried that in itself might lead back to you, I suppose I could do it for you. We can't have your fiancé finding out you visited a...er...gentlemen's club, can we? Nor would it look good if word got back to her that you sent one of your people in there asking about the merchandise."
He shrugged. "My reputation is already spotty at best, so use me if you must. You may not even have to, but you mustn't rule out the possibility. Could be that young fellow just met a lady and started getting cozy with her."
"I'm not sure I like the idea of you walking into one, either, though," Vincent sighed, "But that is for a bit more selfish reasons."
Undertaker chuckled and rubbed his foot against Vincent's playfully beneath the table. "Afraid your consort might find one of the ladies of the night a bit too much to his liking, my lord?"
The Earl flushed, "I know I am in no position to have such jealous feelings for the subject, as I shall be wed to Rachel soon enough, but..." he gave a small nod.
The reaper's smile softened, and he got out of his chair to approach Vincent and cup his chin, guiding his head back to look up at him. "I've no interest in any strumpets, courtesans, ladies or queens. For that matter, no other men can hold a candle to you. What's a cheap thrill with someone I barely know, compared to the pleasures you bring with every laugh, every smile and every kiss? The rest of the world can have them. I've got my Earl, and he's what I want now."
The reaper bent over Vincent to kiss him, sealing the promise with his lips.
"You spoil me, old man." he teased playfully against his lips. "I'll keep you updated on my investigations."
"You do that," agreed the reaper, stroking Vincent's soft, blue-black hair, "and I'll be sure to keep you informed of any new developments I discover on my end. Just keep yourself safe, is all I ask."
Vincent nodded, "I have also been working on my aim with my handgun. missing the night i was attacked had increased the danger for me. the bullet wounds were from Tanaka..." he reached up and brushed the bangs away from one of the reaper's eyes, "I promise I won't make it easy to target me."
Undertaker smiled. "Good."
The kettle started to whistle as it reached heating capacity, and he excused himself to prepare the coffee. "It has a bite," he warned when he returned with two new beakers full of the rich brown drink. He retrieved the sugar cubes and set them on the table for Vincent to sweeten his beverage as desired, and he sat back down to plop four in for himself.
"Ahh, that's...horrible," he said with a grimace at the drink after taking a sip, "I'll have to look into another distributor...but it does the trick."
Vincent nearly gagged at the taste, "Dear God, I hope you just got bad beans!" he washed out the taste with the ginger water.
"They came from a strong crop," insisted the reaper. "Be a man!" He laughed in spite of himself and it was quickly followed by another grimace as he sipped more of the bitter brew.
"Ugh, it's rotgut for certain," he admitted.
"I wouldn't wish this on my enemies!" Vincent laughed.
Undertaker began to laugh as well. "Sip and chase, sip and chase...like whiskey." He took another swallow of the horrible coffee, made a face, and chased it with the ginger water. "We're going to need more ginger," he predicted, coughing.
Vincent nodded, "Tea's better anyhow...next time maybe I'll bring over something that tastes much better."
"Please, feel free."
Undertaker was about to add something else, but the pull bell outside his shop rang at that moment, and there was the sound of someone knocking at the door. Figuring it could be the Yard or another body delivery as easily as it could be Vincent's ride, he got up and excused himself. "I'll just go and check on that, love. I'll retrieve your hat and cane while I'm in there and I'll let you know if it's your coachman."
"Thank you." Vincent set down his beaker of coffee and pecked the reaper on the cheek as he pulled away.
Undertaker was a bit disappointed to find that it was indeed the Phantomhive coachman at the door. He let him in with a little sigh, but his grin was as bright as ever as he greeted him. "Have a seat, lad. I'll bring him out in a moment."
He fetched Vincent's hat and cane for him and he returned to the back and made his way into the kitchen to give them back to him. "Unfortunately, that's your man come a'calling." He bent over to give the Earl a last, lingering kiss on the lips. "I'll go fetch your shoes and stockings, my lord."
The Earl combed his fingers through his hair to tame it before placing his hat atop his head, "Thank you, Undertaker." he smiled and nodded, moving back into his professional tone. Undertaker returned with said items and helped him put them on, before escorting him out of his living quarters.
"You'll keep me updated, won't you?" Undertaker reiterated, though they had already agreed to collaborate closely during this case. He walked him through the curtain and to the door, where the coachman waited. The young man gave the Earl a respectful, elegant bow and held the door open for him.
"Yes, you can expect to hear from me again soon. Thank you for your help." the Earl tipped his hat before walking out with his driver, climbing into the carriage.
Undertaker watched him go with a quiet sigh. With each day, he grew more attached to the young monarch...but he no longer fought against it. He'd loved and lost before, after all. A little voice inside his head asked him if he could bear to lose this one, though.
~xox~
Vincent hid a yawn behind his hand and he stretched. He'd spent hours going over his notes from his investigation. He, of course, had shared with the Yard as he went-when they asked. but they proved little help, rushing off on their own 'leads'—Dead ends, all of them. Brothels had been one of those dead ends, and he was glad for it. but it was high time he talked to Undertaker again. Well, he wanted to, at least. He had Tanaka call for the reaper, and was waiting in his study. he got up and stood at the window, looking out over his estate.
~xox~
"Undertaker, you kill 'em, we bury 'em," came the gruff answer after a few rings. It wasn't the reaper's usual phone greeting. His voice sounded...exasperated.
Tanaka blinked, "It seems I have caught you in a mood, Master Undertaker. Is this a bad time?"
The reaper blushed deeply, horribly embarrassed and thankful that the man couldn't see his face. "Oh dear, pardon me, Mr. Tanaka. I've...I've suffered some crank calls of late. How can I help you?"
"Ah, I see. The Earl wishes for your council on the investigation he'd been tasked." the old butler said.
"Oh...ah, right." Undertaker thought his face might catch on fire, and his heart skipped a beat annoyingly at the thought of seeing Vincent again, though it had only been a few days. "In that case, tell him I'll be at the estate directly."
"Very well, sir." Tanaka said and hung up, moving to tell the young earl that he was on his way.
~xox~
Undertaker was shown into the Earl's study as soon as he arrived, and he gave Vincent his typical broad smile of greeting. He removed his hat and he bowed. "You rang, Earl?"
When the door shut behind him, he loomed in without warning over Vincent's desk, inadvertently giving him a start. "Find anything, my dear?"
"No real leads." he shook his head, smiling at the reaper, "No brothels either." he stood up and reached out, running his fingers through the other's hair.
Undertaker nodded, his eyes becoming heavy-lidded with pleasure as the young man's fingers combed through his hair. "These things take time, my lord. Mmm, that feels nice."
Vincent smiled and continued the action, "Would you stay for dinner?" he asked. Yes, he'd used the excuse of business to get the reaper there, but nothing stopped them from enjoying the time together-or prolonging it. "I can share the details of the case with you then."
"Who am I to decline such a charming and tempting invitation?" said Undertaker, his eyes closing completely with bliss as the combing continued. "What are we having?"
"I'm not even sure." Vincent laughed, "I let the cooks choose-usually. They never let me down, though. It's always delicious."
"That's good enough for me," said Undertaker with a nod. "Good food of any sort is one of my favorite pleasures in life." He nudged Vincent's hand like a demanding cat when it went still. "Keep petting me, love. I like that."
Vincent laughed softly and continued, "Seems I've gone and got myself a rather large cat."
Undertaker removed his top hat and he shamelessly draped himself over the desk and purred, smiling. "Thinking about sending me away to the pound?"
"Why would I do that?" he smirked, leaning over him and pressing his lips to the reaper's.
Undertaker grinned, his lips curving against the Earl's. "I can be a troublesome kitty, I admit. I'm a bit demanding at times, and I occasionally like to scratch." He reached out to drag his long, black nails over Vincent's shoulder and down his arm, to the elbow. "But I don't do much damage. Whatever you do, though, don't neuter me."
"Now why would I even think of doing that?" he smirked, running his hand down along the reaper's side, settling it on his hip.
Undertaker shifted gracefully on the table, covertly squirming down a bit to make other parts of his body more accessible. "It would be detrimental to your own interests, I agree."
"Very much so, " the Earl hummed in agreement, hovering over him on the desk, pinning him down as he half-way got atop the reaper.
Undertaker purred again, enjoying the feel of Vincent's body covering his. He ran his hands over his back and his bottom, giving the latter a little squeeze. "I do so enjoy the feel of you, Vincent."
He reached up to cup the back of the young man's head, and he pulled it down for a kiss.
"And I, you." he whispered as their lips connected, "Mmmh..."
Just as Undertaker slipped his tongue into his mouth, their interactions were interrupted by the sound of Tanaka knocking on the door. "Pardon me, my lord, but dinner is served," he called out.
Undertaker sighed, wondering if he was doomed to be cock-blocked. "Well, I suppose we'd best get to the dining hall, before the servants start to wonder."
Vincent was just as annoyed, sighing as he straitened up, fixing his suit. "I guess play time is over."
"For now," agreed the mortician. He grinned mischievously as he got up and hopped off the table, and he reached behind Vincent to pinch his bottom. He leaned close to the Earl and offered a low, soft suggestion. "I could always return after lights' out and scale the walls to your bedroom, my dear."
"As long as I know it is you." Vincent said in reminder that the assassin had also gotten in through his bedroom window.
Undertaker chuckled softly. "Now, that would be some interesting coincidence for an assassin to make another attempt on your life on the same night I plan to sneak in and...deflower you." He pulled the Earl close. "Not that I think I'll be your first, of course. When it comes to you and I, however, this will be a new experience for both of us."
Vincent blushed a deep red, "I doubt I'm the first human you have had."
Undertaker smirked, but then a painful thought came to him. ~Nor are you likely to be the last.~
He looked away, disliking the reminder of how temporary Vincent's role in his life was going to be. "I've had my share, no doubt." He looked at him again, and he smiled. "But none are likely to hold a candle to you, love. There's a passion in you that makes me wonder if I'll be able to keep up."
"We'll have to see..." Vincent grinned, walking to the door, "Tonight, maybe?"
Undertaker nodded as he followed along behind him. "Indeed, my lord. I wouldn't miss it for the world."
They went to the expansive dining room and sat down at the long table together to be served dinner; with Vincent at the head of it and Undertaker sitting in the seat beside his. The maid poured them both a glass of white wine and brought out dinner rolls and salads as appetizers, while they waited for the entree to be plated up.
"So you said you had details to impart to me?" asked the reaper between bites. He gave his hat over to the maid when she asked for it, and he buttered his roll.
"Some, but not much." he nodded.
"Some is better than none at all," said the mortician. "Have you been able to determine if the suspect is a woman, as I suspected?"
The earl nodded, "I'm convinced. Scotland Yard is not. They are convinced a woman wouldn't be capable, but the evidence supports it."
"The Yard is a cesspool of idiots," said the reaper in derision. "It's really no wonder her royal hiney turns to your family when she needs something done right. Pity she could wind up turning on you if she finds out you know more than she wants you to, though."
The entrees arrived and Undertaker sniffed with appreciation as the lemon-butter glazed fish and steamed broccoli was set down before him. "Ah, this looks promising." He picked up his dinner fork and dug in.
"I'm glad you approve." The earl smiled, picking up his own fork, "I got a name-sort of. Somehow, I think an 'Emily' is involved, but there is no surname."
Undertaker swallowed the bite of fish he was chewing on and he wiped his mouth with the napkin as he nodded. "Emily, eh? That's a pretty name. I'll keep my ear to the ground for you and seek out any information I can about potential assassins using that name. People would be truly shocked to learn how many females are in the business, I think. It's easier for them to get away with it because idiots like the Yard are still deluding themselves into thinking the fairer sex is weaker. Frankly, I think women are far more dangerous than men, and not just because society underestimates their gender. The ladies can be downright ruthless, and it's harder to tell where you stand with them. They're adept at hiding their thoughts, my lord. It's what they're taught to do, their entire lives."
"A frightful thought." He sighed, "But still. the law is the same for both genders, and she broke it."
Undertaker took a sip of wine and nodded. "Indeed. While I'm not a fan of violence against the ladies, you keep in mind that this woman is a killer, when you close in on her. Don't let chivalry stop you from pulling the trigger if she forces your hand, Earl."
"She is not on the same level as the women I know. Killers and assassins are all on their own level." he reassured the reaper, "Don't worry. I won't be bested by a woman without a fight."
Undertaker smirked. "That's good to know. Too many men allow a pretty face and long legs to render them stupid. You're a cut above the rest, though."
He resumed eating, pleased that his Earl took the danger seriously. Vincent was a compassionate young man, but he was also quite brilliant. Those qualities might occasionally conflict with each other, but the reaper trusted him to take care of himself...though he still wanted to continue training him to use every means available to ensure his survival. On that note, he recalled the agreement he'd made with him.
"Don't forget that we have tutoring dates," he reminded. "Wednesdays and Saturdays, each week. If you fail to show for them, I'll spank you good and proper."
The maid gasped and giggled behind her hand, hastily excusing herself.
Vincent's cheeks darkened to a bright red, "Such wording at the dinner table..."
Undertaker spread his hands, his fork held deftly between the first two fingers of his left hand. "I was speaking figuratively!" He glanced around and seeing that nobody was nearby, he winked. "At least as far as they know. Arrive on time for our lessons and you won't need to find out if I'm kidding or not."
Vincent raised an eyebrow, "I may have to test it." he said simply, cutting into his fish and taking a bite.
Undertaker gave him a surprised look. "Oh my...you've got a naughty side, my lord."
"I was raised to be a gentleman," he stated, "Not a lady."
The reaper laughed in delight, clapping his hands. "Well said, my lord. You might want to check that hypocrisy meter, however. It's getting rather full." He smirked. "Just a moment ago you were scolding me for my naughty talk."
"A moment ago there had been a servant in the room laying witness to what was being said." he pointed out.
"Didn't seem like she minded," countered the mortician with a lecherous smile. He finished off the last of his meal and he washed it down with more wine. "I daresay the young lady may go to bed with visions in her head of her lord being spanked on his bare ass by yours truly."
"Do you always take pleasure in corrupting the minds of innocent maids with such mental imagery?"
The reaper snickered behind his hand. "Fufufu...is that really a question you need to be asking me, Earl?"
"No, but I asked it nonetheless." he smirked.
Undertaker sucked his teeth in thought, and he playfully rubbed his booted foot against the Earl's beneath the table. "As a matter of fact, I do get some satisfaction out of knowing a pretty little thing like that might be fantasizing about watching me swat your bottom 'till it's blushing, and then proceed to fuck you blind."
He shrugged and he finished off his wine with a smirk. "But that's just me."
The Earl coughed, "You, sir, threaten to turn my face into a tomato permanently!"
Undertaker laughed, and the maid came back in wheeling a dessert cart, blushing beneath her freckles. "I'll just take those plates away if you're finished, m'lord," she said. "Begging your pardon."
"No need for pardons, love," Undertaker said with a grin. "I was just turning your employer into a tomato."
She looked at him with confusion, then she looked at Vincent. Ducking her head, she collected the plates and replaced them with a slice of white, sweet-frosted cake for both of them. "As you say, sir."
She left quickly after refilling their wine glasses, her face about as red as Vincent's. Undertaker grinned after her and he waggled his eyebrows at the Earl. "Something I said?"
"It's always something you say." Vincent responded, nodding in thanks to the maid, "Please do forgive us, Miss Mary, the conversation reared off topic in the most inappropriate way."
"Yes, do forgive us," Undertaker agreed. "My old head veers off in strange directions, at times." He smiled at her and the shy little smile she gave in return before leaving left little doubt that she didn't consider him an old man at all.
Undertaker looked at Vincent again when she was gone. "She likes me."
"Are you attempting to make me jealous, Undertaker?"
The mortician grinned. "Am I? Making you jealous, that is."
"You didn't answer the question." he said simply, taking a bite of his dessert.
The mortician shrugged. "Maybe I was fishing a bit for a reaction. I do like to make the ladies blush, though."
"Well, you succeeded in both." Vincent smiled.
Undertaker chuckled, enjoying the banter. He held up his wine glass. "To your health, Earl."
Vincent raised his glass, "I'll drink to that."
~xox~
-To be continued