"Beyond Death"

A Vincentaker roleplay (Co-writer: Stickiebun)

Chapter 4

~xox~

After dinner, Undertaker bid the Earl good evening and he left the manor—only to return again on the stroke of midnight. He was nervous, and he didn't quite understand why. After all, he'd had his share of tumbles with both reapers and mortals in his day. It might have been a long time since his last lover, but everything still worked just as good and if anything, he had more experience under his belt now than ever before. He should have been confident. Vincent wanted him. He knew how to pleasure a man—or a woman, for that matter. Still, the nagging anxiety dogged at his steps as he approached the looming manor without a whisper of sound.

Perhaps Vincent had already fallen asleep. What if he changed his mind? What if he was revolted by the scars marring Undertaker's skin, all over his body? He didn't seem to mind the ones on his face, neck and finger, but the marks of past battles were everywhere, striping his pale skin from torso to toes. Surely, Vincent must have guessed as much, but what if he hadn't? What would his reaction be, when he saw how world-ravaged the mortician really was, beneath his robes? Most of his past lovers found the marks to be exotic, or even sexy, in some cases. He prayed to death that the Earl would share their attitude.

Undertaker reasoned that if the sight of scars hadn't driven Vincent away by now, they weren't likely to do so tonight. Telling himself to pull it together and stop fretting over something that hadn't even happened yet, the reaper cloaked himself from mortal view and crossed the lawn to the manor. He began to scale the wall with macabre ease, hopping from one windowsill to the other as he ascended. When he reached the lord of the manor's bedroom window, he was so startled to find it open with Vincent standing there looking out that he very nearly fell off.

"Merciful death, you gave me a start," gasped the mortician; only to realize that Vincent could neither see nor hear him while he was still cloaked. A mischievous smile tugged at his lips, and he dropped his supernatural concealment, appearing to materialize before the young man's eyes.

"Boo."

Vincent gasped and stumbled back, tripping over his feet and sending himself sprawling across the floor. "Good Lord, Undertaker!" he gasped, keeping his voice low, "Was that necessary?"

The mortician snickered and stepped through the window, absently brushing off his garments before removing his top hat. "Sorry, love...couldn't resist. If it makes you feel any better, I wasn't expecting you to be right there in my face when I made it to your window. I damned near fell off."

"If you hadn't been transparent I would have seen you and moved out of the way." Vincent said, standing up and brushing off his silk pajamas before smiling and moving up to the reaper, slipping his arms around him and pressing their lips together, "Thank you for not standing me up this time."

"Mfph pwffurf," mumbled the reaper into the kiss, and then he returned the human's embrace, backing him toward the bed impulsively. His tongue caressed and stroked against Vincent's, and he cupped his bottom and pulled him tighter against him, quickly arriving to a state of need. He couldn't get over how confident and passionate the Earl was, when given the chance to express himself.

Vincent let them fall onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, kissing passionately as their hands roamed freely. The Earl closed his eyes, breathing in the reaper's scent. He was nervous-of course he was. While he was no virgin, and he'd taken male lovers before in his later years at school, this was his first time with Undertaker-a reaper as old as time. One that most likely knew more about sex than he could ever hope to know. But he was still an Earl. He'd not show his insecurities. after all, he did want this.

It took Vincent several long moments to remove the reaper's layers, but finally they fell open, exposing his pale, scarred flesh. He pulled away slightly, taking in the sight and running his fingers along one rather prominent scar, saying nothing as he wondered what sort of battles the man had faced to gain so many.

Undertaker held still as the mortal explored his scars, holding his breath without even realizing it. He gazed down at him questioningly, his long, shiny hair falling around them both like a veil. "Do they trouble you?"

Vincent shook his head, "There is more than I had thought there would be..." he whispered.

Undertaker stroked a hand over Vincent's flat stomach, feeling the smooth unmarred skin. "Yes, my body is riddled with them. It takes a lot to leave lasting scars on a reaper."

"Are you ashamed of them? you held your breath when I saw them."

"Noticed that, did you?" Undertaker smirked ruefully. "You've grown more perceptive. No, I'm not ashamed of my scars...but I was a little concerned that you might find them unsightly. I never much cared what others thought about them, until now."

"Do you think me that shallow?" Vincent asked, propping himself up, "I mean, Okay, I have slept around purely for pleasure...and in a way this is too...we can't be wed and we can't have children so of course this is for pleasure. But I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't feel something for you. Scars...I won't look at them if you feel uneasy about them, but they are apart of you."

The mortician's smile returned. "I don't want you to avoid looking at any part of me, Earl. If they don't bother you, then I'm satisfied."

He lowered his mouth to Vincent's and he kissed him deeply, relieved. He pushed the young lord's arms up over his head, so that he could tug the long silk nightshirt up and off. His grin broadened when he found that Vincent was quite nude, beneath the garment. "Oh, I approve of this," he purred, sitting up to take in the sight of him. "Lie still, my dear. I want to look at and touch every inch of you."

"I can't promise 'still'." Vincent smirked, relaxing into the covers. "I can promise you, however, that you may touch as you please."

"Fair enough, for now," agreed the reaper. Actually, seeing him squirm was a goal of his. He allowed his gaze to feast on the supine, masculine form, taking in the swimmer's build. He ran his hands over the tight abdominal muscles, then the pectorals. He brushed his thumbs over the rosy nipples, making them tighten up and drawing a sigh of pleasure from Vincent. He settled his knees between the Earl's thighs and he nudged them apart, before dragging his hands down his torso again to stroke his hips, then his strong thighs.

"Quite the fine specimen of man you are," complimented the reaper huskily. He guided Vincent to bend his knees, so that his inner thighs were resting against his hips. His arousal throbbed as he let his gaze dip lower, to the dark thatch of hair framing Vincent's family jewels. "Yes, very fine indeed," said Undertaker with a lusty smile. He slid his hands around to the young man's inner thighs, slowly gliding them up toward his groin while he looked him in the eyes.

Vincent moaned, shivering under the light caresses moving over his body. In all the partners he'd taken to bed-none of them had treated him in such a way. they had always gotten right down to business. It was normal for him, but now it seemed different-like the others had simply used his body. Undertaker...he was almost worshiping it.

Undertaker delighted in the sound of Vincent's pleasure. He took his time, though he ached to get on with it. He was quite determined to make his claim on the Earl so thoroughly that he would be spoiled for other men. He dragged his nails lightly over Vincent's skin, and he traced the lines of his pelvis sensually. He came very close to touching his groin; even going so far as to circling the base of his shaft with his fingertips, but he procrastinated touching it directly, just yet.

He put his hands down on either side of Vincent's waist for balance as he leaned forward, letting his pale hair drag over the young man's chest and stomach on a caressing manner. "Does your body taste as delightful as it looks and feels, my lord? I think I'll find out."

He lowered his mouth to Vincent's chest, and he brushed his lips over the skin. He pressed light kisses there, his breath ghosting over the surface of it. He followed up with a slow, leisurely lick, leaving a glistening trail of dampness in his wake.

"Mmm, you do taste nice, love."

"Ahh-nhh...!" The earl moaned, his body slowly shifting into each touch and caress, "B-better watch it-this may just go to my head..." he breathed, gripping the bedding under him as he resisted his urge to move more than he already was. to touch the reaper in the same ways...

The reaper chuckled, the sound humming in his throat as he continued to caress and kiss Vincent's body with lazy exploration. "I doubt that," he purred reassuringly. "You aren't the sort of man to allow ego to rule you, Vincent."

He flipped the Earl over smoothly, with no warning, and he proceeded to give his backside the same treatment as his front. He traced the line of his spine, appreciating the symmetry of muscles in his back and shoulders. There wasn't a bit of him that Undertaker didn't find appealing.

"Hnn-But still...you are enjoying my body more than anyone ever has..."

The comment gave the reaper pause. "Has no-one taken the time to explore you this way, Vincent?"

He ran his nails over the Earl's shoulders and down his back in a gentle, sensual glide.

The young Earl shook his head, blushing, "Most barely took the time for proper preparation..." he looked over his shoulder, glancing at the reaper's hands-or rather, his nails. "...Those are going to hurt..."

Undertaker glanced down, and he shook his head. "Not a worry, love. See?"

He held one hand up and retracted the nails, until they were no longer than Vincent's. He smirked at him. "One of my many talents, my lord. Many reapers can alter their outward appearance in some way or another; change their hair color or length, make their eyes appear a different color, or in my case, retract my nails."

He resumed his loving attentions, now kneading the muscles with long, attentive fingers to massage the tension out. "I think it's a travesty that none of your previous lovers took the time to make proper love to you," he purred. "That's not to say I can't or won't get a bit rough at times..."

He smacked Vincent's smooth, tight bottom to demonstrate, and he grinned when the Earl's breath caught. "But I'll never leave you wanting, and I'll never take you without full preparation, first."

He rubbed the cheek he'd smacked soothingly, comforting the sting he'd caused.

"R-retractable nails...you really are a cat..." Vincent murmured into the sheets, moaning as the slightest hue of pink formed on his slapped cheek.

"I promise not to sharpen my nails on you, or your nice furniture," chuckled Undertaker. He leaned over the young man again, balancing himself with one hand as he trailed kisses over the broad shoulders and toned back. He covertly reached into his crumpled, discarded garments for the vial of oil he'd brought for lubricant as he worked his way down Vincent's back.

Vincent hummed, his muscles flexing as he shifted again, licking his lips and waiting for a chance to taste the reaper.

An idea came to Undertaker as he ran his hands possessively over Vincent's buttocks and thighs, and he grinned. He stretched out beside him and rolled onto his back, uncorking the vial he'd brought. He dribbled some over his fingers and he beckoned the Earl with a seductive smile.

"Your turn, love. I'll make good use of this while you have your way for a while."

Vincent didn't need to be told twice, quickly pushing himself up and moving to straddle his lover, hands caressing over the reaper's pale, scared torso, following his muscles. He leaned over, pressing his lips along his collarbone, kissing, suckling, even a few light nips.

Undertaker closed his eyes and enjoyed the loving attention with a sigh. He slipped the hand with the oiled fingers between Vincent's parted thighs and behind his groin, cupping his balls briefly in his palm in passing. He smirked when he gasped, and he gently entered him with one finger. It glided in easily thanks to the oil, but it was snug—as expected. The Earl's last sexual encounter with a man must not have been very recently...or he was naturally tight. Undertaker's arousal twitched as he imagined what it would feel like to sink into that heat with it, and he groaned softly.

Vincent didn't stop his own task, though small moans feathered across Undertaker's skin. A hand wandered lower, fingertips brushing over the other's length before taking it in his hand, getting a feel for his size as he stroked it. His face was quickly painted red. He could already tell without looking that the reaper was bigger than he's had before. "Ah!"

Undertaker paused his gentle thrusting, looking up at the Earl's blushing face inquisitively. "What's the matter? Is it funny looking to you?"

He looked down at his erection—still gripped in Vincent's hand, wondering what had startled him so. It still looked the same as ever to him; no different from a human cock, really.

"I-it's big..." Vincent whispered.

Undertaker relaxed, fighting back a grin. "Is that all? You gave me a fright for a moment, my dear. I thought there might be a spider on it, the way you reacted."

He placed his free hand over the Earl's and he gently guided it up and down his length, making a low sound of pleasure as the gripping hand slid over his rigid flesh. "Maybe it's bigger than what you're used to, but it won't bite. Promise." He resumed exercising his entrance, pushing his finger in again before slowly withdrawing it.

"Especially if you're nice to it." He winked at him.

The earl blushed a darker shade, moving to grip both their lengths together before he continued to stroke. "I was just surprised, is all...you're bigger than the German."

He hadn't the foggiest who this German was that he spoke of, but Undertaker supposed he must have been on the endowed side himself, for Vincent to draw comparisons. He'd intended to fondle the Earl's jutting length himself, but this was far better to him.

He pushed into Vincent's grip, leaving his hand covering his as he began to steadily pump his finger inside of him. "Very nice, love, he complimented huskily.

The Earl moaned, stroking their lengths a little faster as he leaned in, covering the reaper's lips with his own. Undertaker returned the kiss, his tongue dancing against Vincent's as they pleasured each other. Oh yes, this was far better than his last encounter. Though it had been quite a while, he remembered clearly how it felt in comparison to the chemistry between himself and this young man rocking on top of him. He felt like Vincent truly belonged with him, like he would be completing him when they consummated their love in the final act. Poetic nonsense, probably, but the reaper was so enamored already with his mortal lover that he just couldn't seem to shake that impression.

"Blessed Styx, you feel good," he gasped between kisses, his groin throbbing in the gripping hand. "If I'm not careful, I could arrive too soon."

"You had better not!" Vincent hummed, "I've been looking forward to feeling you inside me all evening!"

That simple statement of fact sent a thrill through Undertaker that almost made his expressed concern a reality. He grunted softly and he made Vincent stop, gently disengaging his erection from the young man's grip. "Sorry love, but little Undertaker's getting a bit too excited."

He closed the Earl's hand around his own erection again, smiling up at him with heaving breath as he resumed guiding him. There was something undeniably sexy about watching Vincent masturbate—especially with his hand guiding the motions of it. "I'll let you play as much as you want, after I've had you," he vowed, and he slipped a second finger into Vincent's slowly relaxing entrance. "You're far too delectable for your own good."

"Ahh-mmh..." the Earl moaned out, his eyes hooded as he worked at pumping himself, feeling the two digits scissoring and stretching him out, slowly readying him for the promise of more. "W-Will I be aloud to touch during?"

"Of course, my dear," assured the mortician, "and you can touch other parts of me all you want now...just avoid the goods beneath the waist."

He wasn't normally quite this excitable in bed, but he'd been wanting this so badly since the night he ravished Vincent's mouth beneath the mistletoe. Funny how quickly a single kiss could turn fond feelings of affection—and yes, attraction—into a need so great he could barely keep his head together. Undertaker was a shrewd man, normally adept at hiding his true feelings behind laughter and drooling smiles...but that was all an act. Here tonight in Vincent's bed, the mad old funeral director was gone. Tonight, he was himself; a reaper about to claim his mortal lover, who just so happened to be one of the only two humans alive that knew the truth about who and what he really was underneath the mask he wore each day.

"Kiss me again, Vincent," he demanded after watching those tempting lips gasping and moaning for several moments. His hands were too busy to draw the Earl's head down again for his desires, so he relied on verbal command.

Vincent abandoned his length quickly, leaning forward with a sense of need and obedience, holding Undertaker's face between his palms as his lips found the other's, moving hungrily against them.

Undertaker drank in the elixir of his lips, and he curled his hand around the girth of Vincent's erection to resume stroking it. He smiled into the kiss when another moan surfaced, muffled by his mouth. He began to unconsciously flex his hips beneath his straddling lover, unable to resist rubbing against him as he thrust his tongue into his mouth enthusiastically, his fingers pumping harder inside of him, stroking the internal gland in passing.

"Mmm!" His moans growing louder, Vincent ran his hands down Undertaker's neck and shoulders, resuming his exploration of his body. "G-God in Heaven..." he moaned into his lips. It felt so damned good...and it was still only foreplay!

"Are you calling out to the almighty, or comparing me to him?" teased the reaper. He'd always wondered why mortals were so prone to shouting litanies to the divine. God really had nothing to do with what he was doing to him—save for designing his body to take such pleasure from the act.

"Wh-What?" Vincent panted, lifting his head to look at the reaper.

"Nothing," said Undertaker, not wanting to spoil the encounter with religious discussion. "It isn't important."

He thought Vincent was nearly ready for him, but he wanted to stretch him a little more to be certain. Pain was the last thing he wanted to give the Earl. He stroked a thumb over the tip of Vincent's sex, smearing the drop of clear fluid that had beaded there. "You really are gorgeous, Earl."

"There you go again...trying to get your words to go to my head. You're the beautiful one..."

Undertaker laughed sensually, the sound very different from the cackle of the madman he tended to emit when playing the role of the mortician. "We could spend the whole night arguing over who's the fairest." He eased his fingers out of Vincent and reached for the oil to lubricate his shaft. When he finished, he positioned himself and he stared up at the other man as he placed one hand on Vincent's hip and lifted his pelvis to enter him. "I can think of better things to do, my lord," he purred, slipping the head of his arousal inside of him.

Any response the earl had was lost and replaced with the sound of a gasping moan. he straitened, head falling back. It had been so long since his last sexual encounter. he'd still been in school, pinned under another student in his year. he'd almost forgotten how good it actually felt.

Biting his lip, he slowly lowered himself onto the reaper's shaft.

"Oh...m-my," said the reaper in a shaken voice as Vincent's body sheathed him. He closed his eyes and licked his lips, one hand rubbing Vincent's hip and the other still stroking between his straddling thighs. "That's...wonderful!"

He hadn't meant to lose his composure that way; he'd imagined himself being completely in control for the entire encounter, but the Earl had a way of making him take leave of his senses. "Vincent," he groaned, driving himself deeper, until he was completely inside of him.

"Ahh-God, Undertaker Y-you're...Nnnh..." his arms shook as he held himself up, allowing himself time to adjust.

The reaper held still beneath him, feeling him quivering around him. He stroked Vincent's thigh soothingly, opening his eyes to watch his face for the first expression that would tell him he was ready for more. After a few moments, the discomfort began to fade from that handsome visage, leaving only pleasure stamped on his face. Still, Undertaker didn't move. He left it up to Vincent to decide when he could take more, and once he was certain he could handle it, he would take over from there.

The pale moonlight bathed the young Earl's toned body in lunar splendor, and Undertaker admired every muscle, contour and angle of his body. He slid his hand around and he stroked his inner thigh, before slipping his hand beneath the erection he was fondling to cup the baubles beneath it. He massaged them in conjunction with his stroking, giving his family jewels a thorough rubdown as he stared up at him and admired his beauty.

The Earl gasped, opening his eyes and gazing down at the man buried deep within him. the moonlight making his nearly pigment-less skin white, his hair that spread over the dark blue bedding seemed to almost glow... He was beautiful...If Vincent ever saw an angel...Undertaker was it. perfect, stunning, and those glowing green and gold eyes... Yes. He was being bedded by an angel. After all, an angel of death was still an angel. and this one was his.

"Undertaker...I...I'm ready." he said, taking a deep breath as he cleared his mind and lifted himself so that they could move freely within each-other.

The reaper waited for a moment, reading his eyes and his expression carefully before he began to move his hips. He watched the flush steal over Vincent's cheekbones as he withdrew, then eased back in to the hilt. His eyes glazed a bit with pleasure, and his lips parted. His breath quickened slightly as he started to thrust beneath him, taking it slow at first. He stroked his shaft a little faster and he gave his balls a gentle, tingling squeeze with his other hand.

"Ah, I could do this forever, given the chance," he sighed huskily. He was adoring everything about this encounter, and he was glad of his choice to take it slow in the beginning. As much as he would love to fuck Vincent blind as he'd suggested at dinner, he wanted to make love to him, first. The fucking could come later.

Vincent moved his hips, helping to elongate his lover's thrusts, panting as he savored the feel of each inch rubbing his heated walls. Leaning forward again, he pressed his lips to Undertaker's once more, "...God, I love you..." he husked out.

The breathy declaration nearly made Undertaker stop, but he realized as soon as Vincent said it that he felt exactly the same. He groaned into Vincent's mouth, helpless against the feelings surging through him—both emotional and physical. "And I you, darling," he said when their mouths parted again. He kept stroking the mortal off as he began to thrust a little harder, his length driving into him with more force. His breath caught as the waves of bliss crashed over him, and he fought to keep a handle on his lust.

Just a bit longer...he only needed to hold back for a little while longer.

Vincent's panting continued, with the occasional moans and gasps until his body stiffened. he could feel it, so close- "U-Undertaker, I'm-!" he cried out, his warning too late as bliss washed over him and he expelled the evidence of it into the reaper's hand.

Undertaker growled with carnal delight as his lover clenched around him with the orgasmic spasms. He pumped his hand over the bucking shaft until the last drop of seed was expelled, and then he lifted up and rolled Vincent beneath him, hooking the Earl's knees over his shoulders to allow greater penetration.

"Vincent," he said roughly, grabbing his wrists to pin them over his head. He started taking him hard then, and the headboard banged against the wall with each deep, hard thrust. "L-love...oh gods...oh gods!"

He might have laughed at himself for doing the very same thing he'd just been puzzling over mortals doing, but this wasn't just a physical experience for him. The look on the young man's face when he came...the way his eyes were wide with helpless pleasure right now as the impassioned reaper pinned him down and ravished him...all of it was simply too much for him.

It certainly felt like a religious experience to Undertaker, and he finally understood why so many mortals shouted the names of deities when having sex.

Vincent had always been on the quieter side in bed. soft moans and gasps for the most part, but he'd never been taken quite like this. and those soft sounds of pleasure turned into screams as he gripped the bedding, "More! Oh God, More!"

Hardly believing he could not only take it, but wanted more, Undertaker obliged him. Now they were both calling out to the powers that be, caught up in the ecstasy of their coupling. Undertaker claimed the Earl's mouth with his again, trying—too late—to muffle both their voices. Sweat beaded their bodies as they writhed together, and his hair spilled over his left shoulder to drape over the side of the bed. Though he had already reached completion, Vincent's sincere, lusty cries assured Undertaker that he was enjoying every powerful thrust.

Vincent clung to the reaper, holding him tight as he started to build up a second release-funny that Undertaker would complain of his coming too early when it seemed Vincent would be the one to release twice.

The reaper drove into him again and again, his body completely taking over to give him the climax it craved. His moans blended with Vincent's between their sealed lips, his flesh sliding and slapping against the Earl's. He was getting close...so close.

"Nuuh...not going to last...much longer," he panted, feeling his groin beginning to tighten with the impending orgasm. Again, this wasn't how he'd expected it to go. He'd pictured himself making love to him all night long, but he hadn't anticipated how overwhelming the pleasure and passion would be. He could tell this was going to be an explosive climax, and his body started to tense.

Sweet, merciful death...he was reaching heights of pleasure that he normally only reached through orgasm...and he hadn't even climaxed, yet. Undertaker kissed Vincent again, fearing he might soon begin yowling like a cat in heat.

"M-me t-t-again!" Vincent stuttered. Oh God... Undertaker was so much more than an angel... "Good! So-Undertaker!" he spread his legs further, sure that he was about to spill over again at any second.

Undertaker clenched his teeth in his effort to hold back his cries, but it was no good. He blurted an exclamation of purest felicity as he started twitching inside of Vincent, and he buried his face in the crook of the young man's neck, shoving hard and deep into him as he started to come. It made his whole body tremble, and he couldn't have drawn breath after exhaling it all in a shout even if he needed to.

Vincent cried out again, releasing at nearly the same time, his body trembling uncontrollably. "Hahh...Hahh..." he swallowed and slowly relaxed.

Undertaker took a few moments to regain his wits. The climax had been his most intense to date, and his heart was pounding like a hummer's wings. He grinned and lifted his head to look down at his blissful lover, pleased with the outcome of the encounter even though he'd hoped to make it last a bit longer. That was what encores were for, after all.

"I got a bit rough," he said apologetically, his voice breathy with release. He kissed Vincent's slack lips, adoring the way he looked in the afterglow. "You didn't seem to mind, though."

"Mmmn...not at all." he smiled up at him, "Best I've ever had..." he gave him a slow, sensual kiss on the lips, fingers running through his hair.

Undertaker gladly returned the kiss, relaxing on top of him for a few moments to enjoy the moment. He eventually withdrew, and he used a handkerchief from his robes to clean up the drying residue of their pleasure. He lay down beside his mortal lover and he held him close, falling asleep in his arms.

~xox~

Vincent hummed in his sleep, rolling over into the warmth next to him, sliding his arms around the soft skin he found himself on top of. Undertaker stirred slightly as well, absently stroking the Earl's mussed, dark hair. They might have laid like that contentedly for a while, if it weren't for Tanaka. The knocking at the door startled the reaper awake, and the butler's voice floated through.

"Master Vincent? Are you awake yet, my lord?"

Undertaker felt a moment of panic, his head jerking up from the pillows. He nearly blurted an oath when he saw the time on the alarm clock and the angle of the light, and he shook his companion awake whilst pressing two fingers against his lips. It wouldn't do for the household to learn the truth about their relationship; even if Tanaka could be trusted to keep a secret. He didn't want to disgrace his young lover.

Vincent jerked awake, smiling up at the reaper before the situation set in. His eyes widened.

'My Lord?" Tanaka called.

"I-I'm awake! I'll ready myself this morning."

"Very well, my lord," answered the butler, and then his footsteps retreated down the hallway.

For a moment, Undertaker and Vincent stared at each other like a pair of naughty children nearly caught in the act. The reaper began to snicker under his breath, and he pressed his face into the pillow to muffle it.

Vincent chuckled, covering his mouth with his hand. "If we'll be doing this we need to handle mornings better." he whispered.

The mortician nodded, lifting his head off the pillow to grin down at him. "Indeed. I intended to be up and out your window before sunrise..." he lowered his head to kiss the Earl on the mouth, "...but you felt too delightful against me to bother."

He kissed him again, and then he reluctantly pulled away to tug the covers down and roll out of the bed. The reaper yawned and stretched, nude except for the curtain of silver hair falling down his back. He smirked at Vincent, letting his eyes rove over him.

"Thank you for a heavenly evening, my lord. I look forward to the next one."

He winked, retrieved his clothes and quietly got dressed. He glanced over his shoulder at Vincent after getting his pants up and his boots on. "How's that darling little tush feeling, love? Shall I leave you something for aches and pains?"

"I feel fine." he stated, moving to get up, groaning when he got to his feet, "...Spoke too soon." he let himself fall back on the bed.

Undertaker grabbed up his robes and fished through them for the small envelope he'd brought for just such a dilemma. "Thought as much." He tossed it on the bed. "Steep that in some hot water and then soak a wash cloth in it. Put it on that darling bum of yours to ease the sting and hold it there for thirty minutes, or thereabouts."

He pulled his robes on and fastened them, watching the handsome young Earl, quietly for a moment. "Ring me later, won't you? Even if there isn't an update on your case..." he trailed off, suddenly awkward. He didn't even know how to ask Vincent to stay in touch with him just for the sake of it.

Vincent reached out and took his hand, kissing it, "Of course...I'd keep you here if I could."

Undertaker smiled at him, and he lifted the Earl's hand to his lips to return the kiss. "And I would stay. Until next time, my dear."

The mortician seemed to dissolve into thin air, and the only hint of his passing out the window was the pane nudging open. Within moments, Vincent was alone in his bedroom again.

Vincent sighed and took the envelope before picking himself up once more, in a good mood despite the discomfort in his backside.

~xox~

Two weeks passed, and Vincent's efforts finally led him to the assassin. The young woman known as Emily finally slipped up enough for the Earl to track her down, after she took out a nobleman—who incidentally had a few things to say about the Queen, as well. There was no doubt that she was working for the monarchy itself to eliminate anyone that shared the Queen's ambitions with others. She was good, though. She stabbed Vincent in the side before he could subdue her, and when taken away by the Yard and interrogated, she revealed a fabricated story of being a French spy.

She was executed for her crimes, much to Vincent's dismay. Undertaker came to visit while he was recovering from his injury, and he could see the pain in his eyes that had nothing to do with his healing wound. Vincent didn't need to tell the mortician how troubled he was that Her Majesty would allow her own assassin to be executed.

"We're all just pawns to her, love," soothed the reaper. "Queen Victoria couldn't allow that girl to live, once she got caught. She knew too much about the monarchy, you see. It's a brutal cycle, and you're in just as much danger as the assassin. Keep playing dumb, my lord. Even if she suspects you know too much, make sure you don't reveal it and you might stay off her list for a while longer. She needs to know without a doubt that your first loyalty is to the Crown. As long as she believes you won't reveal her secrets even if you discover them, she won't sic her other dogs on you. Be the best, most loyal guard dog you can be, Vincent."

The young lord agreed with his advice, wise beyond his years and trusting his informant...his lover. Vincent eventually recovered from his wounds and near the end of spring, he wed Rachel. Undertaker watched the ceremony with a broad smile that wasn't fabricated in the least. Vincent's station in life being what it was, there was no avoiding the fact that he needed to take a bride and produce heirs. The mortician was glad he chose Rachel as his wedded mate, because he genuinely liked the girl. She was sweet, pretty, light-hearted and quite loyal to the Earl. She had a lovely laugh as well, and Undertaker found himself trying to provoke laughter from her when he could.

Rachel, in turn, was fond of Undertaker as well. She always seemed delighted when he made it to gatherings or accepted a dinner invitation from her and Vincent. Her pretty blue eyes always twinkled merrily when she greeted him, and Undertaker could forgive her for sharing Vincent's bed each night. She was...good for him. And he was good for her. He watched the love blossom between them, and just when he was ready to step aside and let Vincent go, the Earl demonstrated that he still loved and wanted him very much.

It was a peculiar little triangle, but it seemed to work well enough for them. What finally threw Undertaker for a loop was when Vincent took his leave for Buckingham Palace one day after a luncheon date. Undertaker and Rachel bid him farewell, each of them reminding him to be very careful at court, and as they watched his carriage leave, the young woman spoke softly to Undertaker.

"He loves you, you know."

Undertaker turned his head and regarded her with a smile. "Well, I help keep his fool head on his shoulders, milady."

Rachel laughed softly, putting one hand over her bonnet to keep the summer breeze from blowing it off. "You do, but that isn't why." Her smile faded into a more pensive expression. "I know that he doesn't always go to visit you for information, sir. You are his lover."

"Wha—"

Undertaker cleared his throat, knowing his expression had already given him away No sense denying it now. "You're a shrewd one, little dove. I won't insult your intelligence by trying to deny it."

She nodded, shading her eyes with her hand as she looked up at the cloudless, summer sky. "Good. I had hoped you wouldn't."

Feeling awkward, the mortician also looked up. "Ironic, isn't it? The clouds have gone scarce on the hottest day of the year. I almost miss the perpetual rain we're so used to."

"As do I," she sighed. She looked up at him again. "Do you love him, Undertaker?"

The mortician nodded without hesitation. "More than is probably good for me, milady."

She smiled. "Then I can accept it. I know that I'm luckier than other women. I know he keeps only to you, when he isn't with me, and to know that it means more to you than a dalliance sets my mind at ease."

Undertaker frowned at her, puzzled. "Most ladies would rather not know whose bed their husbands seek, when they aren't sharing their own."

Rachel smirked. "Most ladies don't like their husbands enough to care, sir. I do. There would surely be a scandal if word got out, but I count myself more fortunate than most women. Other lords sire bastard children on various mistresses, without a care for how it eventually damages their families. Vincent isn't like that. I can't imagine the two of you ever producing a child together." Her smirk became teasing, and her eyes twinkled.

"Oh, I do like you," approved Undertaker with a laugh. He sighed and he reached out to stroke a wayward blond curl back under the lady's bonnet. "He loves you too, you know. I rather adore you, myself."

"Do you?" A sunny smile graced her lips. "That's a good thing, then. I would not wish to get on your bad side, sir."

"It's harder to do than you'd think," informed the mortician with a grin. "I don't hold grudges easily. You are a lady to the manner born, Rachel. Quite a remarkable woman." He took her hand and kissed the top of it appreciatively.

She gave a small curtsy. "Thank you, Undertaker. Would you like to have some tea before returning to the city?"

Undertaker offered his arm to her. "Delighted to, my dear. Shall we?"

She nodded and fell into step with him, heading back into the manor. "Let's."

Nothing more was said between them about the odd arrangement in their lives, because both of them knew there was really no way to change it that wouldn't leave someone hurt and resentful. For the mortician and the countess, sharing Vincent was enough.

~xox~

-To be continued