Lestat's Immortal Erection

"Violetta," He falls to his knees beside her, his hands carefully holding her shoulders, "Violetta, mi amor, are you alright?"

She looks up with surprise in her eyes, had she not noticed him?

"Oui," She answers simply, getting to her feet, lightly touching his cheek as she turns to climb back up. His eyebrows furrow when he feels wet on his skin, he touches the spot on his cheek and sees a red, sticky substance on his fingers.

"Wait!" He grabs her wrist just before she grasps the ladder, pulling her away from it, "Your hands!"

"Bruno, tesoro, I'm fine-"

"No." Rougher than he means to, he turns her hands to face up, "Amor you're bleeding!"

"Oh," She stares at her palms, bloodied, torn, and raw.

"Did you not notice?" It had to be painful, right?

"I..." She looks behind him and her whole body stiffens, "I should go take care of this."

"I'll help you-"

"No." Her voice cracks, "I'll be right back."

He turns to see behind him as she leaves just as someone exits the flap behind him.

She's gone barely ten minutes when she storms back in, tightening a strip of white cloth around her hand with her teeth. Not even sparing a look to him as she starts for the ladder again.

"Violetta," He tries again, his hand gentle on her shoulder, "You're hurt, take a break."

"I-" She freezes, his eyes plead with her, "I will, just... Just after I try this once more. I nearly had it."

Another fall, but this time he catches her when her knees give out, pulling her close to his chest. Her bandages already bled through, and he's kicking himself for not bringing any food from his sister.

"Look, I-I don't know what's going on, but can we please get this looked at properly?" He asks, "I-I'd hate for it to get infected, that- that's not fun- Not that I would know from personal experience, but my mother used to talk about how she's seen people get really sick and..."

"Bruno," She says, but he doesn't hear her as he rambles on, nervously.

"... happen to you amor, although, I'm not entirely convinced those weren't just scary stories she used to tell Julieta, Pepa, and I so we would be more careful when we were playing..."

"Bruno."

"... was really clumsy as a kid and so I'd like to think I was always pretty careful..."

Violetta rolls her eyes with a soft smile and leans close, pressing her lips to his. When she pulls away, his cheeks are noticeably darker and his mouth is opening and closing silently as if he were trying to say something.

•▪•▪•▪•▪•

"Di nuovo? Violetta, tesoro, devi smetterla." Again? Violetta, honey, you have to stop. Her mother says when she sees her daughter's hands, "C'è solo così tanto che le tue povere mani possono sopportare. Siediti, fammi guardare." There is only so much that your poor hands can take. Sit, let me look.

She sits on a vacant stool as her mother flits around, getting clean bandages, pausing a moment, turning to face him.

"Ciao Bruno," She pulls a small rag from the pocket of her apron and rubs away the splotch of dried blood on his cheek, before placing her hand there, "It's good to see you, dear."

He's frozen, wide-eyed for a moment as she goes back to patching up Violetta, muttering to herself in Italian.

"What did she mean 'again'?" He asks as they walk back outside, her hands freshly cleaned and bandaged.

She glances over at him, wrapping her arms around herself, "Nothing."

She's quiet while they make their way to a secluded area, where she plops down beneath a tree, lightly patting the ground next to her. He sits cross-legged beside her and it falls silent again.

"I missed you," she mutters after a few minutes, sore fingers picking at the grass. She glances over at him and nudges him with her shoulder and smiles.

◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊ ◊

Bruno's spent hours pacing in his room, debating whether he should do this. She'd given no answers to any of his questions and he was just so worried.

"I'm doing this," He huffs, dropping into a sitting position, tossing a small handful of salt over his shoulder and quickly lighting the small piles of leaves and sand before he can talk himself out of it.

The wind in the room picks up, sand swirling around him as he lets the vision consume him.

He sees her, Violetta, no more than 10 years old, leap from one trapeze to another only to miss the next bar and fall. His breath catches for a moment as she plummets into the net below.

"Again." The word is sharp. Clear and direct. And she climbs back up, only to fall again.

Bruno watches on as she falls, over, and over, and over. Each time a different age, and yet the voice repeats itself, "Again."

Through bloodied hands, weary eyes, and fatigued muscles, she pushes herself. Another leap, another turn, another spin, another slip, another failure.

The word echoes with clear intent, "Again. Again. Again," Demanding more, demanding perfection.

Then she barely touches the net, her body crumbling to the ground, gasping, panting, fighting for breath. The sound that follows is a tone he's all too familiar with from years prior, disappointment, "Enough."

And she lets herself collapse fully to the straw dusted floor, face in the dirt, too tired and in pain to push herself to her feet one last time.

As the glass tablet forms in front of him, the vision fades and he feels his heart clench. The image now in his hands is Violetta, his Violetta, his vibrant, strong, confident Violetta, laid across the ground, hair a mess, covering her face as she forces herself up onto her elbows, too exhausted to do more. Her form changes when he tilts it. From one angle she's not much younger than her current age, the opposite angle shows her as a child, and from straight on a teenager.

Her earlier behavior made sense now.

Again. Another. Again. Just once more. Again. Again. Again.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

"She could have burned you!"

"And jerking her away would have stopped the water from being hot?" She snaps back. It has been a long time since she was last mad at him, and his armor is suddenly feeling much more stuffy than normal, his cock aching in its confines.

"I... suppose not," He grumbles. He steps forward, his gloved hand tracing along her bodice, "Your dress."

"Oh, damn my dress!-"

"You'll catch a chill." His voice is firm, and he holds out his hand, "You must change, I will not have you taking ill."

She follows him, mouth agape as he guides her toward her chambers, his large hand pressed to the small of her back. He dismisses the guards stationed outside her rooms, closing the door behind them.

He stands beside the partition, his back to her, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, brow furrowing when he ears her curse, "Is something wrong, Princess."

"I..." She hesitates, but with her handmaid not around, "I cannot... My dress, the laces..."

Right, the laces. He clears his throat, and glances over his shoulder, "May I assist you?"

"Could you?" She asks hopefully. He turns to find her back to him, her hair pulled aside for him.

He reaches for the ties before realizing the struggle he might face, fumbling with such delicate things in his cumbersome gauntlets. He carefully removes them, setting them aside.

His fingers are deft as he loosens the laces, warm as they brush along her skin as the fabric begins to fall away.

"Thank you, ser" She moves to step away, but his hands continue to glide across her skin. Normally, he would not deign to be so bold, to touch her so openly, but he cannot seem to help himself, "Ser?

"Allow me to help you," He murmurs, sliding his fingers beneath the hem of her gown, pulling it from her quickly heating skin.

"Avin, you needn't-"

"Hush now, I want to help you." He argues, his gaze wandering when her dress falls away to reveal her small clothes and corset, which barely covers her breasts, "You're trembling, Princess. Are you cold?"

"No, I..." She turns to meet eye, bashful, but not untrusting. He adores that about her, her complete trust in him, and he would hate to see that shattered.

"Come," His arms slowly wind around her waist, his beard catching in her soft, soft hair. "I will warm you... If you'll allow me, my lady?"

The way she willingly allows him to guide her to the bed fills him with a mix of protectiveness and lust he never thought possible. He sits on the foot of the bed, pulling her into his lap, watching her hand splay across his chest plate. She's so sweet. Innocent and naive to the ways most men would treat her in such a position. He wishes to keep her that way, always, even after he takes her her virtue as he has so often dreamt of.

"I feel... strange." She breathes and he gently strokes her cheek.

"Where, sweet thing?" His voice feels deeper than usual, yet softer as his lips brush against her skin. His hand trails down, lower and lower until he cups her mound through her small clothes, "Here?"

She whimpers and nods as his fingers, sure in their movement, press against the spot between her thighs that makes her breath hitch.

"Oh dear," He teases at the flush of her cheeks, "Would you like me to take care of this, my lady?"

"Avin." She whines, grasping at arm, flustered and rather confused by the feeling coming from lower region, but she trusts him to care for her, "P-please."

He near comes undone at her words, a groan escaping him. He presses a heated kiss to her temple, barely able to contain himself, "As you wish."

And so, she finds herself laid out upon her bed, watching him- she's never seen him outside his armor before, and yet, here he is shedding it, piece by piece, for her eyes alone. Once he is down to his simple tunic and trousers, he lowers himself to his knees by the foot of the bed.

His hands gently part her thighs, now bare, murmuring a soft command, "Let me see."

Her cunt is pink and weeping, glistening for him alone. He knows he should feel shame for his actions, but it is difficult to feel little else but adoration now, staring at her most private of places.

"My poor lady," His voice laced with lust as he traces along the outside of her lips, "Does it ache terribly? Allow me to make it all better for you..."

She gasps when he leans in and presses a long and yearning kiss against her clit, her legs closing of their own volition.

He allows her to squeeze him, his eyes turning up to watch her as he lavishes her cunt with broad licks and fevered suckles.

"W-what? What is- hah!" She moans, already trembling and near orgasm, innocent to the ways of sex and pleasure. He only pulls away when he hears a touch of fear in her voice, his hand stroking her thigh to comfort her.

"It is pleasure, Princess." He explains, "Pure and unabated, there is no need to be frightened, I would never do anything to harm you."

She nods, her body quivering as her peak, so within reach, begins to ebb away, leaving her oddly breathless and needing.

"P-Please," She begs, her hand reaching for him, "Please, dear knight."

He mouths at her thigh, his fingers finding her throbbing entrance and gently pushing inside, quickly finding that place inside her that causes her hips to buck and stars to cloud her vision.

"There it is," He chuckles, kissing her pretty pink clit again, "There would be the cause of all this worry."

He massages that spot, taking her clit in his mouth, and any worry of treason leaves his mind when her breath hitches and her pussy flutters and clamps around her fingers. He would risk his head and more to feel her cum for him again, knowing that he is the only man alive to have the singular honor of giving her such pleasure.

When her thighs finally release him, he climbs over her, kissing his way up her hip and over her corset as he does.

"Are you well, my lady?" He breathes, his greying beard soaked in her slick and arousal. He wishes to kiss her lips, but would never dare ruin the experience for her with the mess. "Was I able to... ease your ache?"

"I-I think so." She pants, unable to get a deep enough breath with her corset restricting her chest.

"Here," He carefully slips his hands beneath her, working to loosen the laces of her corset, "Allow me."

He supports her as he sits her up, and removes the contraption, revealing the soft planes of her stomach and her perfect, pink nipples, already hardened- he cannot stop himself from taking one in his mouth, making her gasp again. He then remembers himself and pulls back, his voice indescribably soft, "Did I hurt you, Princess?"

"No, ser. How..." Her flush creeps down her neck, "How did you... you know... know, how to...?"

He chuckles at her innocence, his fingers brushing through her hair, "It is my job to keep you safe and satisfied, my lady. I would not be a fit knight nor protector if I could not accommodate your every need."

Something in the rasp of his voice and gentle caresses makes the feeling begin to creep back in, "A-and if it returns."

He barks out a laugh, a sound she's rarely heard from him in his years by her side, and she suddenly feels foolish.

"Does she yearn for me already?" He grins, his smile making both her heart and cunt flutter, "I am yours to command, Princess, you need only say the word."

"Can... can you please touch me there again?" She asks, looking up at him with those big, innocent blue eyes of hers, as if asking him to tie her shoe for her. She has no idea how tight she has made his trousers from the simple question.

He wishes to take her, to fuck her properly, show her just how deeply his love for her is, but he knows better than that, he would never risk her reputation in such a way by possibly leaving her with child. It is a privilege enough to be allowed the taste of her, he would not put such an honor in peril with greed.

So, instead, he will bring her to ecstasy again and again with his battle-worn hands and blunt tongue, until, sensitive and satiated, she begs him for respite.