"Beyond Death"
A Vincentaker roleplay (Co-writer: Stickiebun)
Chapter 6The seasons slowly turned, and the trees began to change color. Unfortunately, politics and duty didn't change with the seasons. There was a second assassination attempt on the Earl by mid-August, this time during a ball he attended with Rachel. The culprit tried to take him out with a sniper rifle from a balcony, and Vincent saw the danger in time to grab his wife and seek cover behind the buffet table, and the shot missed. Security immediately chased after the sniper, but he managed to escape them and the Yard was immediately notified. As stoic as Rachel seemed to be most of the time, the attempt on his life had truly shaken her and Vincent called for the doctor to come out to the manor, fearing her anxiety would harm her and the baby. He called Undertaker immediately after doing that and getting her into bed.
"South London Mortuary. This is the Undertaker," the reaper answered in the scratchy, cockney-accented voice he employed as part of his disguise.
Vincent paused, tugging his ascot loose from his neck as he sat on the edge of the small table the phone sat upon. "Undertaker...there has been a second attempt." he said, knowing the man would know exactly what he was talking about.
"At the ball?" Undertaker's voice changed to the smooth, more cultured flow of his natural tone. "How close did they get, my lord?"
"I'm unhurt, however, Rachel isn't taking it well. she seemed to go into slight shock once she realized what had nearly happened. I have her in bed and rang for the doctor. I worry the stress would harm the baby and make the pregnancy complicated."
"I'll be right over," promised the mortician without hesitation.
"Thank you...I knew I could count on you to come." he said with a small smile into the receiver, "I'll be in the master bedroom, so feel free to let yourself in, if Tanaka doesn't answer the door right away."
"Right. I'll be there soon."
Undertaker tripped over his desk chair as he got up to gather some things for the visit. Bad enough that Vincent's life had been threatened, but now poor, dear Rachel was in a state and their unborn child could suffer for the trauma she'd experienced. He mightn't have been so concerned, if it weren't for that odd vision that kept haunting him. The old him would have marveled over how attached he'd become to these mortals. True, he and Rachel shared no romantic attachment, but he did love her in his own way. He didn't want to see them lose their child.
Righting himself on the edge of the desk, he did a quick inventory list in his head and he meandered around his shop for things he might need; just in case something went wrong before the doctor arrived to see to the Countess. He snatched up a few clothes from his wardrobe and stuffed them into a small suitcase hap hazardously, leaving bits of cloth hanging out sloppily as he secured it shut. He muttered to himself as he checked everything to be sure he hadn't forgotten something critical.
"Apothecary bag, medical kit, medical book, clothes, hat..." He jammed said hat on his head and nodded. "All set!"
The reaper hurried out the door of his shop, slamming it behind him and startling a mouse back into its cubby. A moment later, the door swung open again and Undertaker rushed back in, his arms laden with his supplies.
"Keys. Need the keys, old fool."
He stumbled over to the desk to retrieve his key ring, and this time he remembered to turn the sign in the window over so that the words: "Closed" were facing outward. He locked the door behind him and started off, only to hear a rending sound as his trailing robe got caught in the door and ripped.
"Bugger," grumbled the mortician, yanking it free. It would mend. He whistled for his donkey as he unlocked the iron fence to the back yard. "Daisy, here girl! Daddy has need of you."
"You worry too much," Rachel said as her husband pressed her back down into the pillows propping her up after she attempted to get up, "Really, Vincent! It's you we should be fussing over!"
"A man took a shot at me, but I wasn't hit. You are in a delicate position, my dear. please, take it easy and let me fuss over you-for your sake and our child's."
Sir, Madam," Tanaka said from the doorway, "pardon the intrusion, but Lady Rachel's younger sister is on the telephone. She heard the news and she demands to speak with one of you. Master Vincent, I think it best that your wife remain in bed while you speak to the Lady Angelina, or I could bring the phone in here for her, if you wish."
Fortunately, the telephone in the second floor hallway had a long enough cord to reach into the master bedroom for emergency calls.
"Please bring it in here. I'm sure my wife would like to speak with her sister as well?" Vincent looked at his wife, who nodded. She and her sister were close, as children they were inseparable.
Tanaka bowed. "Very well, my lord."
As he started to leave, the door chimes went off and the sound of heavy knocking followed. "It seems Master Undertaker is here. Shall I show him in, sir?"
"Of course." Rachel insisted. "We wouldn't have invited him over if he wasn't wanted." she teased.
Tanaka bowed and left to see the mortician in.
Undertaker didn't bother taking off his hat as he strode through the door. He set his suitcase down and he looked at the butler. "In the master bedroom, are they?"
Tanaka nodded. "Yes sir. Feel free to go in. I shall have the servants bring your luggage to your guest suite." He didn't even need to question whether the mortician was staying for a while or not. The personal suitcase next to the two kits he'd brought answered the question for him.
"Ta," said Undertaker. "Let's hope I don't need to open either of these bags I'm carrying, tonight."
The butler nodded. "She seems in good spirits, Master Undertaker. She's only a bit anxious for her husband."
"And who could blame her?" said the reaper over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs with effortless, uncanny haste.
Tanaka called for the footman and went to retrieve the phone for Lady Phantomhive, before her sister decided to take a coach here herself to find out what happened.
Vincent looked up when Undertaker walked in, he was holding his wife's hand and flashed a small smile which dulled in comparison to Rachel's.
"Undertaker! Can you please tell my husband I'll be fine so that he'll stop fussing over me? It's cute, but un-necessary."
Undertaker glanced at Vincent, smiled and approached the bed. "I'm afraid I can't blame him, my lady. It's a deeply ingrained, natural compulsion for men to protect their families. The shot that was fired at him could have easily hit you, and I reckon his concern is as much due to his own anxiety as the shock you experienced."
He reached out to stroke her hair. "I'm afraid you'll just have to put up with the concerns of foolish males for a bit longer, my dear, until the doctor has seen you." He looked down at the slight swell of her abdomen, beginning to round out as her pregnancy progressed. "We can't have anything happening to you or the little nipper now, can we?"
She sighed. "Point taken, sir." The expression on her face changed as she looked Vincent's way. "Darling, may I have a moment alone with your informant? There's a...delicate...medical question I would like to ask him, and it would be unseemly for me to do so in front of you."
Undertaker impulsively put a hand over her covered stomach. "Nothing feeling off, I hope?"
She shook her head. "No, but it has to do with women's matters. I know you better than our current family doctor, and I know that as a mortician, you have enough medical knowledge of your own to answer this. I would just feel more comfortable asking you." She looked at Vincent again. "Just tell my sister I shall return her call briefly, and assure her that I'm all right. Do you mind?"
Vincent felt at a loss. Of course he wanted to hear if something was wrong with his wife whether or not it involved her pregnancy with his son or daughter, but at the same time he always wished to respect her privacy. He nodded after a slight hesitation and he got up, walking to the door just when Tanaka appeared with the phone. "I'll take Angelina's call in the hall, sorry for the trouble, Tanaka." he said, taking the phone and putting it to his ear as he left the bedroom.
Undertaker waited until the door was closed before speaking. "You'll have me worried soon if you don't explain what this is about, my lady."
Rachel sighed and reached out for his hand. Despite her earlier reassurances, she seemed too pale and now that her husband wasn't around, the mortician could see the worry in her blue eyes. "I fabricated the reason I wished to speak with you alone, Undertaker. The doctor has already explained everything to me concerning pregnancy and birthing my child; I just...I want you to promise me..."
"Don't get yourself into a state, love," soothed Undertaker, squeezing her delicate hand in his. "You know that I'll do my very best to protect him...and you."
She shook her head. "That wasn't what I wanted to ask of you. There was never any question of that. This is a request for my unborn child, Undertaker. Tonight reminded me of how easily something could happen to Vincent and I."
The reaper tilted his head, sensing where this was going and not particularly liking it. "Lady Rachel, I would make a very poor foster parent indeed."
She smiled. "Would you? But I'm not asking you to do that. Vincent has always told me how you were there for him, even when his own father wasn't. You've taught and protected him for most of his life, haven't you? All I ask is that you do the same for our son or daughter, when we die."
Undertaker smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Your deaths are a long ways away yet, darlin'. By the time you both pass, you could both be grandparents."
Her eyes stayed level on him. "I would like that, but it may not happen. Vincent knows it too, and I'm fairly certain you do, as well. Promise me, Undertaker. I don't ask that you be this baby's godparent; that has already been assigned to my sister. I just ask that you do for our son or daughter what you've done for Vincent."
Undertaker lowered his gaze. "You didn't even need to ask, Rachel. I'll do what I can for the nipper." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it, then patted it before laying it on her stomach. He smiled brightly at her. "Now, away with this gloomy talk. I intend to see you both grow old and fat. I pretty up corpses for a living, and even I find this talk grim."
She smiled back at him, relaxing a bit. "My apologies. It's been...a trying evening."
"No doubt it has," agreed the reaper. He got off the edge of the bed and he stretched a little. "Now you just relax, and I'll go fetch your hubby and tell him he can bring the phone back in."
"I assure you, your sister is in good hands-yes, the doctor has been called for-No, the baby is unhurt-Do you really think I'd be taking the time to chat over the phone like this if I had a bullet lodged in my chest? Please Lady Angelina, we are all fine. Rachel's just resting until she calms down, now stop worrying your pretty little head."
Vincent sighed into the phone, "You may call on us if you wish. I'm sure Rachel would love a visit from you as always, but do not feel inclined to do so out of necessity. You are with your Betrothed, are you not? Yes." he gave a small laugh, "You are as stubborn as ever. Very well. I'll let her know. Good night." he hung up the phone and turned to see Undertaker walking towards him.
"Undertaker-is she alright?" he asked, fully aware he's just finished reassuring his sister-in-law that his wife was fine.
The reaper nodded and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Best I can tell without examining her myself, yes. I'll give the doctor an hour to get here and if any complications arise, I'll deal with them as best I can. I honestly don't think we have anything to worry about though, Vincent. You need to sit down and have a brandy to calm your nerves."
Undertaker put an arm around him, urging him in the direction of the second floor study. "Come. Let's leave Rachel be for a little while. We'll have a drink together and chat, and when the doctor gets here we'll see what he has to say."
The Earl sighed and nodded, "Very well. I'm sure my worrying over her and the baby isn't helping her at all...I could use a drink."
Undertaker gave him one of those rare, warm smiles meant only for him. "Come, then. You sit, and I'll pour. I know where everything is."
Together, they walked into the study and the mortician herded his companion over to one of the wingback armchairs, before going to the cabinet between bookshelves to liberate the crystal bottle of fine brandy. He poured a couple of snifters and he handed one to Vincent, before taking a seat in the identical chair adjacent to his. He took a small sip as he crossed his legs, savoring the smoothness of the drink. They'd cut back on their training to Saturdays only, due to increasingly busy life schedules, and Vincent couldn't make the last one because he'd had to travel out of the city to take care of business at one of his family company's factories.
"So, aside from nearly getting assassinated again, what else have you been up to this week?" Undertaker nudged the Earl's calf with his boot, attempting to his attention away from his anxiety with light-hearted banter and teasing.
"Apart from not being able to visit you?" Vincent teased, "The usual. paperwork, family business management...we have decided to start producing candies in addition to children's toys, so I've held meetings with chocolateers."
"Ooh, candy," said Undertaker, perking up. "Chocolate candy, too! You do realize I reserve the right to be your taste tester, don't you? I have an insatiable sweet tooth."
Vincent laughed and stood up, crossing over to a bookshelf and taking a bowl from next to a section of books, "These are the samples we have chosen to go with. Please, help yourself." he said, setting the bowl on the table between the chairs before sitting down once again and sipping his drink.
Undertaker wiggled his fingers over the bowl. "They all look so tasty. Hmm, let's see; eenie, meanie, miney...moe." He selected a pink wrapped piece and he peeled the layer away, before popping the candy into his mouth. He sucked on it thoughtfully before pocketing it in his cheek and nodding in approval.
"Good lollie. It's got a delightful tartness that isn't overpowering. Mmm, I might be tempted to take up employment as your official candy connoisseur. Of course, if I do that I run the risk of getting too fat to fit in my coffin anymore. Reapers don't suffer tooth rot, but even our metabolism has its limits, just like any mortal."
He started to chuckle around the treat he was enjoying. "Imagine the reactions I'd get from my clients if the came for my services and found a slovenly butterball rolling out of his coffin to greet them. I doubt I'd inspire much fear into their hearts."
"No, clearly not," chuckled Vincent, relaxing in his seat, "but you may provoke laughter if they are not too caught up on the fact that a loved one has passed-or it happens to be the Yard looking for information. I dare say those men could use a laugh once in a while."
"Laughter is a wonderful thing," agreed the reaper. He finished off the piece of candy and resisted the temptation to try another one right away. "It can lift burdens, lighten hearts and break the ice is awkward social situations. It would be a sad thing indeed, should laughter disappear."
He sipped his drink thoughtfully. How readily would he find his precious laughter when his dear Earl and his wife were gone from his life?
"You are a good man, Undertaker." Vincent smiled, "You remind me to smile when normally a man would loose sight of what's important. This evening, for example."
The mortician pulled himself out of his reverie, and he smiled again. "A man of your station so seldom has the time to find laughter on his own, love. I'm happy to help you with that."
Vincent chuckled, "Seems I was born into a cursed position of society...good thing I have you."
Undertaker lifted his glass to him. "And you'll have me for as long as you live."
The faint sound of the door chimes alerted them that the doctor was there, and they could already hear Tanaka's footsteps heading down the hall to the staircase. Undertaker finished off his brandy, got up and poured another. He brought the bottle over to Vincent to freshen up his, as well.
"Now we wait and see what the good doctor has to say. I'm sure everything will be fine." Bold words, for an immortal that was secretly anxious about Rachel and the baby's condition, himself. "It's best to leave him to it, so we don't distract him. Your butler will no doubt bring him here to us so he can give his prognosis, when he's finished. We can go in and talk to her after that."
With a sigh, Vincent nodded and crossed his legs, "I'm just anxious. It's our first child, after all. Everything's new and...frightening."
"I can't say I can relate to that, seeing as my kind don't sexually reproduce, but I do understand why you're so anxious, my lord. Perhaps it would make you feel better to know that I myself nearly broke my own neck trying to get out of my shop and on the road to your manor, after I hung up the phone with you. Tore my robe in the process when I slammed and locked it in the door, too."
Undertaker glanced down and lifted his leg to display the abused material. "I tried to run off without my keys, and twice on the way here I came close to running down pedestrians on the streets of London." He smirked self-depreciatingly. "I may not know what it's like to be expecting a child for the first time, but by George, I know what it's like to worry about someone. I don't think I've ever driven that rickety old cart of mine so fast...poor ol' Daisy...I'd like to see to it she gets her fill of carrots when they stable her tonight, if that's all right by you."
"Of course...though in a way, this baby is yours as well, Uncle Undertaker." Vincent smiled, "I want you present in his or her life. of course, he mustn't know about us, but nothing is stopping you from being in her life."
The reaper chuckled. "'Uncle Undertaker'. I think I like that."
He sipped his drink, thinking of how closely Vincent's declaration paralleled his wife's plea, earlier in the bedchamber. "Every family should have a 'funny uncle' in it."
Vincent chuckled, "You'll be his favorite Uncle, that's for sure...unless you give them coal every Christmas."
Undertaker slapped his knee with mirth, his white teeth flashing in a smile. "Ah, but the coal is a good thing, Earl." He snickered into his hand. "As long as you're still naughty enough to find it in your stockings, you stand a better chance at survival."
"I much preferred last year's kiss under the mistletoe to finding a lump of coal, and children prefer toys or candy." Vincent pointed out.
"What they prefer and what they actually get depends on their behavior, love." Undertaker winked at him. "Personally, I hope I get to stick a lump of coal down your knickers for many years to come. Rest easy; I won't be taking that particular liberty with any children you sire...just their father."
"I would hope so." the earl commented, setting his glass down and leaning forward, "Same with that kiss and all the other things we do in private."
"Bah, I'm not that much of a lecher! Give a body a little credit, would you?" He spoiled his offended air with a chuckle and he nudged Vincent's leg playfully again. "You alone are the recipient of my perverted ways, my dear."
"I was teasing you." Vincent chuckled, glad for the distraction from worry.
"I'm quite fond of the way you tease me," assured Undertaker, grinning.
The doctor was shown in by Tanaka then, and both men stood up anxiously. "Please, sit down," he said with a smile, his thin, withered old face kindly. "Lady Phantomhive is in fine health, and so is the baby. It will take more than a scare to make her miscarry, I assure you. She's a strong woman and thus far, this pregnancy is going quite smoothly."
Undertaker breathed a sigh of relief before he could stop himself, and he quickly and subtly reached out to steady the Earl by the arm when he thought it looked like Vincent might collapse. "Much obliged, Dr. Primrose. Mayhap the Earl would like to sit and chat over a brandy with you about it?" He glanced at Vincent meaningfully. "This would be a perfect time for the young lord to ask you any questions he has concerning his wife's condition, and what he might do to ensure she stays in top health."
"Yes, please," agreed Vincent. "It is the least I could offer for your trouble in coming all the way out here on such short notice." Vincent made an inviting gesture at the sofa, while Undertaker poured the brandy.
"Well, all right then," said the doctor. "I can't rightly turn down a good brandy, can I? Thank you, sir."
Undertaker nodded and took his seat next to Vincent, and together, the three of them discussed Rachel's condition and what Vincent should be doing as the father and her husband to help her through the pregnancy. The mortician asked questions he thought were pertinent as well, to ensure his lover got every piece of information he would need. By the time they finished and Dr. Primrose went on his way, Rachel was asleep.
"Best not wake her," whispered Undertaker. "You and I can chat a while longer or play chess, if you aren't ready to turn in yet."
"Chess. it's a calming game of the mind-and I may just win against you this time." Vincent smirked, moving back into the study to retrieve the marble chess set from its shelf. Undertaker followed him and he relaxed in the armchair, retrieving his half-finished glass of brandy as his mortal lover set the game table up.
"All you need do is apply that brilliant logic of yours," he encouraged. "I think I only win because you're worried I'll be offended if you beat me."
"Since when do I let people win? You are no different than any other opponent, my dear Undertaker." Vincent purred, "...Except that you actually can beat me."
Intrigued by the seductive quality he detected in the Earl's voice, Undertaker straightened up in his chair and he set his drink aside as the table was set up. Vincent scooted his chair to face him on the opposite side of it, and they set up the pieces. Undertaker took the black pieces, while Vincent took the white ones. Fitting, he thought.
"What are the stakes this evening, my lord?" asked the reaper softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief beneath the fringe of his bangs.
"Another wager? Last time I took a bet with you I'd lost."
The mortician grinned and spread his hands, his onyx nails making his already long fingers appear even longer. "Maybe this time, you'll have better luck. What would you ask of Death, if you can beat him at this game?"
"Very well...no more private spankings before we get to work during my lessons with you."
Undertaker laughed. "Is that all? I was rather hoping you'd request to tie me up and have your way with me."
He leaned over the chess table to speak in a low whisper. "Just between you and me, I'm fairly sure you enjoyed that spanking."
"I did. but I said nothing of taking my punishment after we finish," Vincent pointed out.
Undertaker's grin took to his ears. "Ahh, very clever, my dear. That's very clever indeed. Very well; if you win, I won't swat that darling rump of yours before sparring lessons."
"And if you win?"
The reaper sucked his perfect white teeth in thought, examining a rook he was placing. "If I win, we lock the door and you strip naked for my inspection. No sex, of course...that wouldn't be appropriate, now would it?"
"No, it wouldn't. It would not be fair to dear Rachel. She may be fine with our relationship, but when she's been ordered to bed, I should not be bedding another."
Undertaker nodded. "Hence the 'no sex' clause. Doesn't mean I can't enjoy a look at the goods, love."
Vincent chuckled, conceding. "Very well. Let us start the game."
He made the first move, and the Undertaker considered it, before making his own. "Word in the underground is the Greys might be involved in the Crown's plotting," he said conversationally, almost as an afterthought. "I haven't heard or seen conclusive evidence though. It could be just rumor, but I'd keep my eye on that family at gatherings, all the same."
He'd meant to tell Vincent of the whispers he'd heard in the morning, but the assassination attempt and Rachel's condition had effectively put it out of his mind.
"It's possible...I hear Charles has gotten quite close to Her Majesty's person, moving quickly up through the royal courts." Vincent moved a pawn, turning the turn back over to Undertaker.
"Hmm." Undertaker thought that over as he considered his next move. He took Vincent's pawn and shrugged. "I hear he's a formidable swordsman. Word has it he recently killed a fellow in a duel. Perhaps it's time for us to hone your favorite weapon skill a bit, my lord."
"I wouldn't mind furthering such skills. I do quite enjoy fencing." He nodded as he thought on his next move before taking it.
The mortician studied the chessboard, and then decided on his move. "I must admit, my fencing skills are somewhat lacking, compared to yours."
"Then maybe it's time for me to teach you something," Vincent said after a long pause and making his next move, taking out one of Undertaker's pawns.
Undertaker grinned. "That would be a refreshing change, my lord. I'm used to slashing a scythe most mortals could hardly lift. A foil is...delicate. Wouldn't it be something, for you to teach ol' Undertaker how to wield one the way it's meant to be done?"
He moved one of his bishops, taking another of the Earl's pawns.
"Think you could handle the more delicate art of the foil, mister reaper?" he teased, capturing that same bishop with a knight.
"Possibly," said Undertaker benignly. "Keep in mind that the weapon I'm used to employing could easily cut an entire ship in half with one stroke. That same weapon can also collect the souls of crying children with nary a whimper from them, and no cut to show for it."
He glanced up from the chessboard, looking at Vincent through the shroud of his fringe. "But a foil? To me, it's rather like poking at someone with a toothpick. There is a certain...finesse involved that I've never really grasped, Earl. Hmm." He tapped his teeth with a long black nail. "Very nice, my dear. I'm afraid I need a moment to consider my next move."
"Take your time." Vincent nodded, folding his fingers in front of his mouth as he kept his eyes on the board, "Foils and rapiers are elegant, but deadly if that is what you aim for in a duel. it is an art to wield one properly, and it acts as an extension to your own body. it's a dance, and every movement is critical, even the twitch of a finger. It's a game of the mind just as much as it is a show of strength and skill."
The reaper new all of this already, but once in a while, he thought it was good for Vincent's morale to let his strong points shine a bit. It was the least he could do, after humiliating him with the Crane stance. Knowing the tenets of the art wasn't quite the same as having the innate skill to perfect it, though. Undertaker himself would never be a master of the foil, but he did rather enjoy hearing the note of confidence in the Earl's voice when he spoke of it. He thought that Vincent could one day grow to be one of the greatest fencers in England.
"You've got the concept far better than I do," he admitted, not paying lip service in the slightest. "A bit of turnabout in our lesson plan might freshen things up a bit, and I wouldn't want you to fall out of practice with the blade trying to perfect Eastern fighting stances that don't mesh well with your style. I still want you to keep in practice with them, mind you, because you never know what could happen in a struggle, but we can't neglect your true strengths."
He made another move and took another pawn. So far, the game was evenly matched. He suspected that bolstering Vincent's confidence might make him a shrewder player, though. His darling Earl always did better when he felt more sure of himself.
The couple played on, capturing each other's pieces along the way until finally Vincent frowned, studying the board, and the way the game was going. At this point, he could make a mistake and loose, or he could make the best move he had left and...it still wouldn't be a win. he could also see the options Undertaker had to him. they were in the same position. forfeit the game or end it—in a draw. he sighed, making his move. he wasn't one to give up.
"Well now," said the reaper with amusement. "It appears we're at a stalemate, my lord." He made his move, and he leaned back in the chair and watched the young man with intrigue.
"How will we handle our wagers, then?"
"Either we conclude this, wager-wise, as a loss on both parts-or a victory." Vincent raised his gaze to study the man, "Any preferences?"
Undertaker sighed, looking him over with hooded, amber-green eyes. "How badly do you want me to save any future...disciplinary measures for after our exercises, rather than before?"
"It's only a logical request. You get me riled up and then my focus becomes divided during the lesson."
The mortician smirked. "Logical perhaps, but not as fun." He gazed at him quietly for a moment, and he grinned. "Seeing as we both won, I think it's only fair that we both honor our part of the wager. I promise not to spank you like that again before a lesson, if you'll do me the honor of sending me off to bed with a lovely image of you in the nude to dream to. Fair and square, darlin'. What do you say?"
Cheeks flushed, Vincent stood up without a word, moving over to the door and locking it before walking to the large window, drawing the drapes and turning to face the reaper.
The earl reached up and tugged loose his ascot the rest of the way, dropping it to the floor, followed by his fine waistcoat and shirt. his shoes were kicked off, his socks following before he slowed down. the firelight from the hearth bathing his skin in warm light as he slowly removed his belt and teasingly began to push his slacks down off his hips, a smirk on his lips.
Undertaker relaxed in his chair and threaded his fingers behind his head as he enjoyed the show, smiling. Usually one to value a laugh for entertainment, he decided that this ranked even higher on his appreciation scale.
"Cheeky, sensual chap," he purred, watching the seductive grace of the Earl's provocative display with approval. He was already swelling with desire, and he longed to run his tongue over the lines of Vincent's bared collarbone and chest. Out of respect for Rachel he resisted temptation, because he knew he wouldn't be able to stop the moment he tasted the smooth skin.
"You asked for it." Vincent purred, shedding the last of his clothes and moving over to sit—or in this case, pose seductively—in his chair, side-ways, "I do not make it a habit to disappoint in paying my dues."
Undertaker absently wiped his mouth, devouring him with his veiled gaze. "Yes I did, and yes, you certainly don't disappoint, Vincent. My, my, what a glorious picture you make. I could just...eat you."
Would that the time was right to engage in a demonstration and suck the handsome Earl's cock 'till he was cross-eyed with pleasure and begging to be claimed. The mortician stood up, and not even the bulk of his robes could conceal the blatant approval his groin was demonstrating.
"I've decided I want a nude painting of you someday soon, to hang in my bedroom and admire each day. Alas, my fine darling, I should take my leave now...while I still have the will to."
He bowed a little stiffly and went to the door. He paused in the act of unlocking it to slip out, and he turned to get one last, lingering eyeful.
"Mph, I'll enjoy very pleasant dreams tonight, Earl. May yours prove as fulfilling."
"Ill see you at breakfast, Undertaker." Vincent nodded with a smile, satisfied by his lover's reaction.
Undertaker suffered a restless night. For one, he was used to sleeping in his coffin. For another, He had pent-up sexual need and nobody save his hand to release it with. He took care of the problem after tossing and turning for the first couple of hours, and then he finally drifted off to sleep in the big, queen-sized guest bed. He wasn't fortunate enough to have peaceful dreams, however. Sometime in the black hours of the morning, he awoke with a scream on his lips and he sat up urgently in the bed, eyes opened wide.
Blood...fire...raven feathers. It was the same as his vision, but he couldn't recall any details other than that. All he knew was that it was related to his dear mortals, and it certainly wasn't a good omen. He got out of bed and put his robe on, then glided out of the guest room and down the hall to the master bedroom. Quiet as a ghost, he opened the door and slipped inside to check on Vincent and Rachel. He was cloaked now, so even if they sensed his presence, nobody in this house would be able to see him, even if standing before him. He watched the couple sleep, with Vincent spooned up against his wife and her slender hand resting over the arm he had around her waist.
The reaper smiled quietly and he took a seat in the rocking chair near their bedside table, staying to simply watch them for a while. He still couldn't work out the warning in his mind, but he knew that some day or another, they were going to fall on strife. He only hoped they would survive it, and he made a silent vow to help them as much as possible, without breaking the laws of reapers, Heaven and earth.
After a while, he'd had his fill of the picturesque sight of them and he left as silently as he came, retiring to his own bed again. Sleep was hard to come by, but it eventually came to him again and by the time the sun was rising, the Undertaker was snoring softly in his poufy guest bed.