by Joy Demorra
Vlad shrugged. “It was here when we moved in.” He knew what Nathan was thinking. Burials and entombments had been banned ever since Dridan had turned the graveyards of the West into his own personal recruiting grounds. The ban even predated Vlad’s birth. But a few resting places for the dead still remained.
Including the one on Eyrie.
“I’m sure they make for quiet neighbors.” Nathan was starting to sound more like his jocular self rather than the tightly-wound bundle of nerves he’d been less than an hour before.
“Most nights,” Vlad tried to return the playful banter, wondering if Nathan could hear the strain in his voice. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to invite Nathan back to his quarters, but he was keenly aware of the other man’s presence at his back; the solid warmth of him drew Vlad in like the gravitational pull of the sun.
Having lived with himself for four centuries, Vlad knew he was flirting with disaster. He could feel his rapidly-dwindling impulse control pulling at the cord of tension between the two of them, stretching it thin.
He wasn’t sure, but after the moment they’d shared in the hothouse, he thought the feeling might be mutual. He desperately wanted it to be.
“Make yourself at home,” he called over his shoulder as he pushed open the tower door. His gaze swept over the cluttered contents of his room to make sure nothing incriminating had been left out. His bed took up most of the floor space, shoved up against the far wall next to the balcony. What little space remained was dedicated mostly to books with the odd piece of personal bric-à-brac thrown in for variety. Not at all like the luxurious suites Lady Margarete and Riya inhabited, but Vlad preferred it that way.
Mercifully, Swithin had already cleaned up the mess Vlad had made getting ready for the party, and for once, everything was blessedly in order. There was even a fresh fire crackling in the hearth.
“Good Gods,” Nathan murmured behind him.
Vlad pivoted, wondering what awful thing he’d found until he saw what had caught the werewolf’s attention. “Oh. That.” Vlad dropped his batwing mask onto the travel trunk that served as both footstool and coffee table depending on the need. “Don’t mind the ceiling. I haven’t had time to finish painting it yet.”
“You did this?” Nathan turned wide blue eyes toward him. “You painted a celestial map of the night sky across your ceiling?”
He gestured to the bare patch of plaster where the fresco of stars faded out into nothing. “Technically, I’m still painting it,” Vlad replied dryly. “I ran out of the blue paint I was using. And then they stopped making it. I just haven’t got around to mixing a suitable match yet.”
In over two hundred years. His eyes flickered to his workbench in the corner where a multitude of forgotten projects lay abandoned. He’d get around to them. One day.
“You’re very talented.”
Vlad cursed his pale features as he felt the first hint of a blush stain his cheeks. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to how freely the werewolf gave out compliments. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get used to it. He cherished all of them, squirreling away every kind word and scrap of praise. Hoarding them against the bleakness in his head. He craved more of them. Wanted to do anything to earn more of them. But instead of begging for more praise, he said, “Thank you. It helps pass the time.”
“Is that a pianoforte?” Nathan was still looking around with the awed air of someone in a museum, which Vlad chose to take as yet another compliment.
“Harpsichord,” Vlad corrected. “It belonged to my mother.”
“Do you play?”
“Moderately well.” Vlad tried to recall the last time he’d played anything on it and came up short. “I prefer the violin.”
“You really get into everything, don’t you?” Nathan asked, sounding dangerously fond. “You know, when my mother warned me against going into vampire lairs as a child, I’m not sure this is what she was envisioning.”
Feeling his blush deepen, Vlad had to stop his fingers from twitching for his cigarette case. “Oh? What were you expecting? A coffin in the corner?”
“Maybe,” Nathan admitted sheepishly. “And some more skulls.”
“Well, we can get Rupert out of the closet, if it would make you feel any better.”
Nathan’s gaze landed on him, narrowing in the way it did whenever Vlad teased him. The werewolf opened his mouth, but then his eyes skipped past Vlad, landing on something behind him. “You have a telescope,” he said instead of whatever he’d planned, making his way past Vlad to the open balcony doors where the drapes fluttered gently in the cold autumn breeze. “Does this thing work?”
“Does this thing work?” Vlad scoffed with a gentle nudge to push Nathan out of the way. “Have we met?”
“We have one back home, but it’s been broken for as long as I can remember.” Nathan sounded genuinely wistful.
Vlad peered through the eyepiece and made several careful adjustments. “They’re delicate instruments.” Once he was done, he motioned Nathan forward.
Running his hands reverently over the brass chassis, Nathan lowered his face to the eyepiece. “It’s beautiful. Do you know, I can always find the Corona Borealis, but it always takes me an age to find the Canis Lupus.”
Vlad leaned in, drinking in the warmth of Nathan’s presence. He told himself it was just to get a better line of sight, but there was no denying the answering surge of heat in his veins at the werewolf’s close proximity. To distract himself, he moved the telescope incrementally to the right. “Right there, next to Magnus Dicula.”
“The Big Spoon.” Nathan snorted with a shake of his head. “Who names these things—”
“Scientists,” Vlad replied dryly, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. Both to keep them warm and to keep from doing anything rash. “I always thought we should have the poets do it, but what do I know?”
“More than most, I’d wager.” Nathan’s eye never left the telescope. “You know, my Uncle Ivar used to tell us stories about the stars. He used to say the Gods shaped them out of all the good deeds ever done. Something about helping us find our way in the dark.”
Vlad was unable to help himself. “They’re dead, you know. Well, not all of them. Just some. But they’re so far away that by the time the light reaches us, the star is already dead. At least, that’s the current working theory.” He grinned wryly. “Next century we might find out they’re made of pixie dust.”
Nathan looked up at him in consternation. “How the hell do they figure these things out?”
Vlad shrugged, idly rocking back and forth on his heels as he turned his gaze back up to the stars. “Something clever with numbers, I suppose.”
“I thought that was you,” Nathan replied, nudging Vlad lightly. “Something clever with numbers.”
Vlad dipped his head to hide the ridiculous smile threatening to split his face. Though it was a crisp autumn night, a sudden warmth suffused him, spreading out from his chest where Nathan had touched him. The combination of praise and physical contact together was exhilarating, simultaneously filling the void inside him and leaving him longing for more. “Not that clever. I just like looking at them. And painting them. They’re pretty to look at. For being dead things.”
“Yes,” Nathan agreed; his eyes found Vlad’s. “They are.” He turned back to the telescope. “Oh, it went out of focus.”
“What?” Vlad stepped closer to Nathan’s side and examined the eyepiece. “Oh, bother. The lens slipped again. Hang on.” With some careful adjustments, he worked on getting the lens back into position, fingers clumsy from the chill.
Before Vlad finished, Nathan said, “You’re shivering.”
Vlad let out a sharp laugh, his breath fogging the air. “It’s cold, Nathan.” He was just about to make a pithy comment about not everyone being able to pour out heat like a furnace when, in one smooth motion, the other man slipped out of his jacket and dropped it around Vlad’s shoulders, smothering him in warmth. Vlad gripped the lapels in
shock, intimately aware of just how big it felt around his shoulders.
The smell of wool, leather, and boot polish—a uniquely Nathan combination—enveloped him. The scent was almost as soothing as the warmth itself. And more than just a bit arousing. Which was a weird thing to think about any of those things, but Vlad had long since given up trying to understand his emotions at this point.
It was going to be a nightmare the next time he visited Angelo’s to procure a new suit.
“So, what else is there to see out there?” Nathan asked, turning back to the star-scattered night sky as though this were perfectly normal and he hadn’t just obliterated Vlad’s entire equilibrium with a single act of unthinking chivalry.
Vlad scraped his thoughts back together again and swiveled the telescope to face the waxing gibbous moon. “Well, there are always the lunar valleys.” He was about to step aside and let Nathan resume his position at the telescope when the werewolf stepped close behind him, hooking his chin over Vlad’s shoulder.
“Huh, would you look at that,” he said, his arms brushing against Vlad’s sides as he steadied the scope. “Isn’t that something?”
“Hngh,” Vlad said, locking his knees to keep from sagging against Nathan even though every inch of him wanted to do just that. His brain spun wildly to contextualize Nathan's actions. It has to be another werewolf thing, he rationalized. It’s that whole tactile, touchy-feely thing they do without thinking. Which was fine, because Vlad couldn’t think anymore either.
“You’re still shivering,” Nathan said, his voice vibrating through Vlad’s rib cage down to his toes, causing Vlad to almost melt into a puddle of vampire-flavored goo. “Should we go inside?”
“No-I’m-fine,” Vlad said in a breathless rush. He couldn’t decide what was more agonizing: the casual, platonic closeness or the thought of losing it. “Oh, look!” he said brightly. “There’s Ursa Major.”
“Very pretty,” Nathan agreed without looking through the telescope. Slowly—so slowly that Vlad could duck out if he wanted, which Vlad most definitely did not want—Nathan reached out to graze his fingers over Vlad’s sides again.
Vlad let out a soft gasp, shivering.
Oh Gods, he wanted this. He needed this. So much. Every atom of his being longed to sink into Nathan’s embrace, but he didn’t dare. Not yet. It was still too much to hope that the werewolf might feel the same…
Full of self-recrimination, Vlad twisted to face him, breaking contact with the wall of heat at his back. “Wherever are my manners?” He laughed, the sound manic and brittle even to his own ears. Things would be so much easier if he could just articulate what he wanted. He wanted Nathan. He wanted to sink into Nathan’s warmth and revel in his overwhelming kindness. But Vlad had always struggled with words. It was like everyone else around him was reading from a social schema he couldn’t see. So he retreated behind a flippant veneer and said, “I invited you here for a drink. Are you thirsty?”
“Only since the first moment I met you.” A yellow gleam entered his eyes which had no business being as appealing as it was.
Vlad swallowed, keenly aware of the way Nathan’s gaze lingered on his face. Tender. Caring. But also filled with desire. Desire for Vlad.
A visceral thrill ran down his spine. Feeling emboldened, Vlad teased, “Really. How remiss of me. I’d have slaked it sooner if I’d known…” He trailed off unable to take the heat in Nathan’s eyes any longer. His pulse raced, aroused at the low growl that rumbled in Nathan’s chest like thunder. There was no mistaking the hunger in his eyes now. Nor the answering pang deep in Vlad’s chest.
Nathan took a half step forward and tilted Vlad’s face up with a gentle touch under his chin. “Is this okay?” he murmured, glancing questioningly to Vlad’s mouth.
Vlad nodded, parting his lips as the werewolf closed the distance between them and kissed him. It ought to be frantic, Vlad thought. Hot and fierce with too much teeth. But instead it was the sweetest, most achingly tender kiss of his life. Vlad swooned into it, melting against the solid warmth of Nathan’s chest.
“Gods, I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.” Nathan pressed fervent kisses along the line of Vlad’s jaw, his hands sliding under Vlad’s silk dress coat and curling around his waist.
“Really?” Vlad gasped, sounding shockingly out of breath for someone who technically didn’t need to breathe. “You should have said something sooner.”
“Gods, you smell good.” Nathan tipped Vlad’s head to the side and buried his face against Vlad’s neck. “Like fucking warm sands and sunshine with a hint of spice underneath.”
“That’s what you think I smell of?” Vlad’s incredulous laugh fell apart when Nathan’s mouth found a tender spot just under his ear. “Oh.” His knees grew weak. “Oh.”
Nathan rumbled with amusement, his voice thick and husky with desire. “The vampire has a sensitive neck. Go figure.” He kissed the spot again, grazing his teeth over it. His fingers found their way into Vlad’s hair and gently tugged his head back.
Later, Vlad would deny the embarrassing keen that left his throat, but at the moment, it was all he could do to keep his knees from buckling as pure, unfettered arousal washed over him.
“Oh, so that’s how it is.” Nathan gave Vlad’s hair another experimental tug, grinning wolfishly at the sharp noise of pleasure the vampire made. “You know, I had a feeling. But it’s nice to be proven right.”
Vlad had no idea what he was talking about, but he nodded anyway. Partly to be agreeable, but mostly to chase that delightful prickling sting of pain in his scalp again.
Sighing, Nathan turned the pull into a soothing pet. “I suppose we should talk before this goes any further.”
Dazed with desire, Vlad couldn’t think of a worse idea. He tried to kiss Nathan again, whining plaintively when the werewolf wouldn’t let him get more than a few quick pecks in.
“Needy,” Nathan teased.
And just like that, the pleasant heat churning in Vlad’s gut turned to ice. He twisted away so quickly that Nathan was left standing with his arms wrapped around empty air, a bewildered expression on his face. “Sorry, sorry,” Vlad gasped, flexing his fingers uselessly against the raw ache welling up in his chest as the heavy coat slipped from his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I know I’m too much—”
Nathan stepped tentatively forward like Vlad was a startled animal he thought might bolt. “Hey now, it’s all right. Hey, come here…” He held his arms wide, letting Vlad make the decision, letting him know it wasn’t a command. When Vlad nodded, Nathan pulled Vlad close, enveloping him in a hug that nearly lifted Vlad’s feet from the ground. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I like needy.”
Clinging to Nathan, Vlad let out a startled laugh. “Thank you? I think?”
Nathan’s silent laugh vibrated through him, thrumming through Vlad’s ribcage. “I don’t mean it like that. I just… fuck, I’m sorry. Come on, let’s get inside where it’s warm.”
A lone armchair stood near the hearth, and Nathan pivoted it around to face the bed. “Sit.”
Vlad folded up obediently and watched as Nathan retreated to a safe distance, perching on the end of Vlad’s bed. He folded his arms over his chest, coming to rest in an uncharacteristic slouch. Like he was trying to contain his size and look as non-threatening as possible.
When the silence and the steady tick of the clock above the mantle became unbearable, Vlad opened his mouth. “I don’t know what I did wrong but—”
“You did nothing wrong,” Nathan soothed, sounding far too calm for someone who until mere moments ago had had their tongue in Vlad’s mouth. “But we should establish some things first. Especially if you want that.”
Vlad frowned. “What sort of things?”
“Just the usual stuff.” Nathan shrugged easily. “What we want this to be. General ground rules. Like, what are your boundaries?”
Vlad stared blankly back at him.
“Vlad,” Nathan began hesitantly, �
��has… has no one ever asked you this before?”
Vlad dropped his gaze to his lap, lifting his shoulders in a lopsided shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe?”
Across the room, Nathan made a low, unhappy sound. “No wonder you’re such a jittery wee thing,” he muttered, his brogue thickening like it did whenever he was excited or annoyed.
“Be fair, Nathan. I’ve always been jittery. But little?” He stretched his legs for emphasis. “Not so much.”
“I’m sure having your boundaries and needs constantly ignored hasn’t helped.”
Vlad huffed with laughter. “My needs don’t matter.” The words were rote. Automatic.
“Who says?” Nathan countered.
Vlad floundered. He wasn’t sure what to say. After a lengthy pause, he asked, “How did you know that I’m like… that?”
“Like what?”
Vlad swallowed, lowering his gaze to the carpet and wishing he could hide. “That I’m… weak… like that.”
Nathan said nothing for several long seconds, then sighed. Vlad expected him to be annoyed, but the werewolf just looked unbearably kind. “Vlad, you’re not weak. You know that, right? There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be submissive or enjoying submission. It’s just a thing you like.”
Eyeing him warily, Vlad waited for the gotcha moment, but Nathan just continued to look at him with kindness. Vlad felt the dam of frustration give way in his chest. “But it’s not what people want from me!” He threw his hands out wide, gesturing expressively to himself. “It’s not what people expect. Who the hell in their right mind do you think tries to dominate a vampire? People just see the fangs and assume—”
“So, you’re telling me you’ve never—”
“No!” Vlad interjected, his frustration giving way to embarrassment. “I’ve never done anything like that. Not… not the way you mean.”
Nathan stared at him, then let out an expressive sigh, laughing. “Well, I dunno about right mind, but I’m willing to give it a shot if you are.”