Relaxation
Herbert smiled when he came back into their chamber, seeing Alfred looking at him expectantly. He went to one of the two chairs grouped around the small table and took a blanket lying there. Then he said: "Well, the tub is full with nicely warm water and I promise you: This time you won't be killed while bathing."
Alfred chuckled. He had already sat up on the edge of the bed. "That's good. I don't think I'm going to survive being killed one more time," he cheeked back.
Herbert joined in the laughing while draping the blanket around Alfred's naked shoulders. Alfred himself would not have minded walking to the next room only half-dressed. That was a definite difference to his former human self – he had been extremely shy. Now he simply didn't care. But it was a sign of politeness to dress properly as a guest in a foreign house.
Alfred took Herbert's hand and pulled himself upright, groaning. At once Herbert slung an arm around his back and grasped his hips, pulling Alfred towards him. Alfred gazed at Herbert for a moment with raised eyebrows, but the Prince only beamed at him.
"Herbert, there's nothing wrongs with my legs. I'm really going to manage a couple of steps," Alfred explained dryly. But he could have told it to the doorhandle for all the response he got. Herbert merely grasped his hips more firmly and started to walk him out of the room. Sighing, Alfred accepted his fate – there was just nothing to be done, stubborn as Herbert obviously was. And admittedly, he was slightly amused by the situation.
After a very short way they entered the bathroom and Alfred's anticipation grew when he felt the warmth steaming up the whole room. The foam swimming in huge mountains on the water smelled of flowers – well, he wouldn't have needed scented foam, but it didn't bother him either. Finally Herbert released him and Alfred started at once to fully undress himself. He didn't mind the presence of the count's son.
Entering the room, Herbert's first glance fell on a service cart that hadn't been there when he had left the bathroom. That was... He let go of Alfred immediately and rushed to the cart. Not only laid there a variety of fresh clothes that would fit both him and Alfred, but also a wide range of hygienic products, several soft sponges, and – a brush. Herbert took the item, regarding it tenderly as if it was his first-born son. Among all the things there was also a note reading: "I thought you would find use of this. -Baptiste."
Herbert felt gratitude and appreciation for his father's old friend. It had been a pleasure to meet him – and lucky for his father to come across this apparently special vampire. Herbert wondered for not the first time in that night how old their host might be. Since vampire's emotions matured over time, as long as they were trained, he guessed Baptiste to be a lot older than he and his father to have reached such a level of serenity and sovereignty.
A soft splashing mixed with a both painful and relishing groaning brought Herbert back to reality. He carefully put the brush down, took one of the sponges and turned around. He saw with regret how Alfred sank beneath the foam up to his breast. He missed his whole undressing and climbing into the tub while his intention had been to savor every second of it. But Alfred's relaxed and contented face, his head resting on the rim of the tub, compensated for this. After all, they had all the time in the world...
Herbert turned to the cart again and inspected the hygienic products. There was a variety of scented soaps and even a canister with hairwash-powder (A/N: liquid shampoo was first invented in 1927). Herbert sighed enviously. There were so many advantages to living in a big city like Vienna. Maybe he could persuade Baptiste to give him some canisters to take along to Transylvania? If only he had money with him to go and buy some.
Herbert found a small bowl and a spoon after a quick search. He filled the bowl with water from the sink and added the appropriate amount of powder into it. It started dissolving at once, condensing the water. Herbert quickened this process by stirring it up with the spoon. In the end it was enough for Alfred and himself, for Herbert was determined to take a bath after his consort.
After finishing his work he took the bowl, soap, and sponge and went over to the tub, placing everything on a shelf by Alfred's head. Alfred opened one eye and looked questioningly at him when Herbert sat down on the rim.
Herbert smiled at him and said, "Just stay how you are, it's perfect for me to wash your hair. Keep your eyes closed, this powder bites."
Alfred closed his eye again and soon after felt the surprisingly cold liquid poured over his head. His mother had also had hairwash-powder once. After all, this new product had been on everyone's lips – or better said, on their heads. Alfred had hated it from the start, for it really stung terribly in the eyes. Moreover he thought it to be a product only for girls. But now, lying relaxed in the warm water, feeling Herbert's long fingers massaging it softly, yet firmly into his hair, he viewed it in a different light.
With a soft voice, Herbert told him everything that had been spoken in the parlor that night and Alfred regarded his words with interest. It was somehow hard to believe that the Count had been like himself once – having a sire, being emotionless. His admiration for his sire almost didn't allow him these thoughts. On the other hand it was a comforting knowledge – if both the Count and Herbert had not been different from himself in the beginning, there was still hope for him yet. Hope that one day he could be like how his elders were now.
"And then Baptiste left the room, but not without inviting you along for tomorrow. Isn't that nice? I suppose I never met a nicer or more good-tempered vampire than him. I suppose he is quite old. I must ask Father about it. Speaking of Father: he knows now about our bond of blood. I just can't keep secrets from him. He can see it in my face."
Alfred almost opened his eyes, but remembered the biting powder in time and so he asked with still shut eyes: "Is he angry with me?"
"No, you're not to blame. He ranted at me a bit, but I suppose he knows no one can change it anymore. I think the worst is past us. Well, do you think you can dive?"
Alfred sighed. Not out of fear from possible pain, but because he would have liked to enjoy this head-massage forever. Composing himself he skipped forward a bit, diving and biting his lip when his shoulders told him how much they liked this movement – that is to say, not at all. He helped Herbert to rinse his hair to get out of this uncomfortable position as soon as possible. When he couldn't bare the agony any more, he surfaced again, groaning.
"Everything alright?" asked Herbert, worrying his lip as Alfred nodded while his face told another story. Herbert checked to see if all of the powder was gone from the hair before he took sponge and soap contentedly. "Come on Chéri, lean forward, so I can scrub your back."
Alfred did as he was told and found this position, resting his head on his knees as he held tightly to his breast, very comfortable. The pain lessened. Soon he could enjoy Herbert's care again, who washed his back roughly, of course sparing his wound. Then he plunged the sponge into the water several times, wrining it out over Alfred's back. When Herbert finally grasped Alfred's shoulder, gently pushing him back, the younger followed his movement willingly.
Herbert continued washing Alfred, caring for his neck and breast, being gentler now. While Alfred had been well used to having his back scrubbed, he had been self-responsible for every other body part since early childhood. So all of this now felt a bit weird – forbidden, even. But somehow Alfred liked the thought to do something forbidden. And admittetly: it felt really good. Alfred was quite sure that this was beyond mere washing.
Herbert savored every moment of spoiling Alfred like this. And interpreting the face of the younger vampire, he seemed to like enjoy it as well. Alfred opened his eyes and looked at him. The shining green seemed to be darker than usual. A certain knowledge was in these eyes, and Herbert took it as an invitation. Alfred's eyes told him that he agreed to his actions so far and they allowed him to continue.
Herbert leaned forward and pressed his lips against Alfred's. Alfred responded and soon no one could have told who was kissing who. Alfred's tongue dared Herbert's to a duel while Herbert's hand wandered deeper.
Alfred moaned into their kiss when the sponge caressed his hips and thighs. He had not known feelings like this before. But he suspected there was even more to come, for Herbert seemed to spare one part with deliberation. And Alfred found himself wanting the sponge exactly there now.
Herbert felt triumph rise in him when Alfred's kisses became more demanding while his body squirmed under his experienced hand to get the sponge where he liked it. He only fulfilled this wish when he had the feeling he had tortured Alfred long enough. Alfred's reaction was a long, drawn out moan and Herbert felt him getting hard. Losing his composure, he let go of the sponge. He wanted to finally feel him for himself, spoiling Alfred with his bare hands. The younger vampire seemed to like it, moving slowly to meet Herbert's movements.
His success with Alfred caused Herbert's pants to become tight, too. Herbert decided to give himself the same treatment as Alfred and opened his pants.
Alfred wondered how he should be a creature from hell when right now he felt like he was in heaven. A small part of his brain that was still working realized that the sponge was gone. What he felt now was Herbert's bare hand, but it made everything, if at all possible, even better. Instinctively he responded to Herbert's movements, intensifying the feelings. Alfred had no idea how this would end, but he felt it could not be long.
Opening his eyes when Herbert stopped for a short while with his kissing, Alfred had a brief glimpse of what the prince was doing to himself. Alfred had been raised in the belief that there was nothing worse than what Herbert did right now. But now he could only see bliss in Herbert's face. How could it be something bad?
Not long and Alfred found his release and Herbert followed him soon after. They persevered for a moment, exchanging fierce kisses, before Herbert buttoned up his pants again, standing up. He grabbed Alfred under the arms and pulled him upright. Giving him a for now last kiss, Herbert turned towards the service cart to choose nice trousers for Alfred.
"Do you also want a bath or should I pull the plug?" Alfred asked with a hoarse voice.
Herbert laid the chosen trousers on top and turned around with a chuckle. „"A part of me would love to bathe in your semen, Chéri, but the bigger part wants clean and most of all warm water right now." Then he took a soft towel and walked back to Alfred.
Alfred laughed. Why wasn't he at least a bit shaken or indignant about Herbert's indecent answer? Ashamed of what had happened right now? He found it only amusing – and even a bit stimulating. "You really are crazy," he murmured, stepping out of the tub and into Herbert's welcoming towel, pulling the chain with the plug with his toes while doing so. With a gurgling sound, the water started to run away.
"Crazy for you," Herbert whispered into his ear, after wrapping Alfred firmly into the soft cloth. "Just wait until we're at home. My tub is big enough to hold both of us comfortably." This prospect send a shiver down Alfred's spine.
While Alfred toweled himself dry, Herbert got the trousers off the cart, bringing them to Alfred who donned them without problems. Somehow his agony had disappeared for the moment while echoes of lust still rang in his body. Herbert then draped the blanket around his shoulders once more.
Before they left for their bedroom, Herbert opened the tap again to fill the tub once more, adding the same combination of bath salts as he did for Alfred's. Then he accompanied Alfred back into their chamber.
A surprise waited for them there. Someone had lit the fireplace already and had placed some glasses and a bottle of blood-wine on the table along with a stack of books. Alfred steered himself there at once and looked over the covers. One was a report from a man traveling through the Far East. Thrilled, Alfred took this slim book – this would be just perfect to browse while waiting for Herbert finishing his bath.
"You're alright?" Herbert asked and Alfred merely nodded. Stealing a last kiss, the Prince rushed to his bath.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
When Herbert came back more than half an hour later, he found Alfred lying on the bed, completely immersed in the book he had chosen.
"Already finished?" Alfred asked, not having noticed the time passing him by now that he had something to read. He looked up and snorted when he saw Herbert, wearing a towel artfully wrapped around his hair that simply looked absurd.
Herbert merely shot him a reproachful gaze. "That's what happens when one is expelled from the bathroom suddenly." When Alfred only stared at him, he explained: "My father informed me most amicably that he would like a bath too before sunrise. Well – but I guess he deserves it – he had to relinquish it as long as we both and he had had the more unpleasant journey. May he have his bath. Oh, I'll be so happy to be at home again with my very own bathroom."
Herbert had stepped to the table, pouring two glasses of blood-wine. Taking both glasses, he went to the bed and sat down beside Alfred.
"Here, try this. It's wine mixed with human blood. Enjoy while you can. It's a rarity in Transylvania.
They touched glasses and drank. Alfred really liked the taste, even if he preferred pure human blood fresh from a living body way better.
"What are you reading?"
"A traveling report from India. It's amazing what a different world it is."
"Where would you like to travel the most?"
Alfred laughed. "Oh, I don't suppose I'll ever be able to finish an enumeration. Everywhere! But certainly North America. Have you ever heard of Karl May?* He traveled the Wild West, meeting natives and living among them. He tells the story from an Apache chief called Winnetou. The world he describes – I'd really like to see this. But China would tempt me, too, or, nearer; Scotland and Ireland."
Herbert kissed Alfred's neck. "We can plan a journey together. There is enough time for us, really. At least Ireland and Scotland are manageable. Will you tell me about this Winnetou-story?"
"If I had the book I could read it to you. I'm not sure I'm that good at retelling."
"It doesn't have to be a hundred percent."
"Alright, I'll try. But we'll save it for our journey back – that will be boring enough."
"Oh, I'd know some things to distract ourselves," Herbert purred, placing small kisses on Alfred's neck.
"With your father beside us?" Alfred asked, trying to keep his voice steady while he felt arousal return into his body.
Herbert sighed theatrically. "Why do you have to be so damn reasonable?"
"Well, one of us has to be," Alfred teased the prince, placing the book carefully on the floor when he felt tiredness overtake him. He knew now that this meant sunrise to be near.
Herbert cared for Alfred's wound with silverherbs, before unwrapping the towel, brushing out his long hair with the stolen brush (a small revenge on his father for expelling him from the bathroom). Binding the still moist strands into a plait, he returned to the bed and lay down.
Alfred skipped to him and began to open Herbert's shirt. Herbet watched him, curious and amused.
"Alfred, I really wish we could, but there is no time for this anymore," he grinned.
Alfred smirked and said: "Yes, but I'm not wearing a shirt, so it's just fair that you'd also take it off."
Herbert let him do as he pleased and when his breast was bared (alabaster, smooth and flawless), Alfred laid his head on it, using it as a pillow, slinging one arm around Herbert's hips. He had simply followed an impulse and found it had been a really good one.
Herbert closed his eyes, relishing the feeling to have his Chéri so close, stroking Alfred's thick blond hair.
Both vampires started to purr softly, the sound accompanied them into sleep.
TBC
*A/N: Karl May, a German author living from 1842 – 1912 was a blatant cheater. He wrote his books, claiming it all to be true, while he had not been in the US until late in life, 1908 (his first America-book was published in 1893). Same goes for his Orient-books. Still, I simply LOVE his books and chief Winnetou (or his impersonating in the movies by Pierre Brice) had been the dream of my childhood.