#gracu

He muttered incoherently as his hand began to move faster. If anyone knew he was locked in his office masturbating, the Crown Prince of Raisel might have felt ashamed. But he was pent up, and sparring was only a viable outlet for so long.

Especially given that his best sparring partner was the current object of bewitching vexation.

Marx muffled a slurring moan as he pumped his palm over his own length, and imagined blond hair, lean muscles, sweating skin, and rose-tinted eyes that looked at him with palpable longing. 

With his eyes shut, and his head tilted back, Marx really couldn’t be sure when he was interrupted, or even if he was at all. There was a certain kind of delirium that came right before he found release, and in that haze, Marx felt his hand moved.

The familiar calluses of his own left-hand were replaced by a touch more tender. Lips pressed to the dark skin of Marx’s neck, and his was not the only struggled breath in the castle after midnight.

Marx gulped and gripped the arms of his chair, trying and failing to resist as his hips bucked up into Angelo’s grip. While it usually took a bit of work to arouse himself properly with his own touch, Angelo’s alabaster fingers were gracefully erotic and elicited an immediate reaction.

There was the press of sharpened fangs that came with each hungry kiss along the prince’s jaw. Marx opened his mouth, about to invite Angelo to bite him-- to feed and share what was a notoriously sensual experience-- but he couldn’t find the words and he moaned instead.

Speaking might break the moment. It was a tenuous, fragile thing, and words would shatter whatever illusion had replaced both their inhibitions.

Angelo let out a purring growl in return, though, as he did everything to sate his urges save for breaking skin. He sucked hard on Marx’s skin, but refused to bite it, while his hand cupped flesh as hot and stiff as iron. 

Marx’s earthy eyes had fallen to a dazed half-lidded state, and he turned toward Angelo, watching as he nearly glowed in the moonlight that snuck through the windows. He swallowed back the urge to say his name, instead reaching a hand and digging fingers into Angelo’s golden hair.

His breath hitched on another moan and his hips thrust upward as Angelo’s thumb deftly traced the cleft in the prince’s erect head. Rapier-worn touch explored the valley of Marx’s glans. 

Marx let out a shuddering groan, and his grip tightened against Angelo’s hair. begging for relief. His cock stiffened and twitched in Angelo’s grasp. Knowing he was on the edge, Angelo moved, and his lips traveled away from his prince’s neck to instead capture his lips and muffle Marx’s climax.

On the other side of the room, a large grandfather clock ticked quietly, noting all the minutes going by and how late it was. Or early.

In the aftermath, there were shared, quiet pants. An attempt to catch up to the present, as Marx blinked his way out of his masturbatory stupor. But before that focus on clarify enough to speak, Angelo left. Almost as if he had never been there, the dhampir stood up and stepped away, disappearing into a whisp of moonlight.

Marx was left alone, glancing about the room. Part of him felt lonely, abandoned even. But another part of him felt tired and sated. An itch had been scratched, at least for one night, and even if they shared an unspoken relationship, it was better than not having it at all.

CROFT & ELVÓTHIEN B SUPPORT

Elvóthien: *sigh* Where has that boy gone to? I told him I would return his book, yet he is nowhere to be found... Croft: ...Zzzz... Elvóthien: Is that...? CROOOOOFT?!  Croft: Mmn, Elvóthien? What are you yelling about? I’m right here. Elvóthien: THERE you are, Sleepyhead! I have the book you lent to me.  Croft: Ah, yes, that. I had not expected you to finish with it so soon. Did you enjoy it? Elvóthien: Did I-- OF COURSE I did! It was absolutely fascinating. I must admit, it was the best book I have read in quite a while. You have a wonderful taste in literature, if I may say. Croft: Hah, my thanks. I’d hoped you would enjoy it, so I am glad to hear that you did. Would you like to borrow another? I’m sure I have something lying around that would be to your liking. Elvóthien: Oh, yes, I would love-- Croft: On ONE condition, however. Elvóthien: Hm? Name it. Croft: That you don’t wake me up so suddenly again. I was NAPPING... Elvóthien: All right! You have yourself a deal, Sleepyhead.

CROFT & ELVÓTHIEN A SUPPORT

Croft: Elvóthien. I thought I would find you here. Elvóthien: O-oh, Croft! Now who is the one appearing so suddenly? I jest. Now, what is it that you need? Croft: Erm, I was only coming to see how you liked the last book I lent you. You...DID like it, didn’t you? Elvóthien: You were afraid I would not like it? Croft: Well, I was just unsure, is all. So...?  Elvóthien: Your taste is truly wonderful, Croft. It makes me happy that we still share the same interests as we did when we were children. Croft: *ahem* Y-yes, as it does I. You truly have not changed since those days in the village, have you? Elvóthien: Hey! I would say that I have. Am I not the child I once was? I would LIKE to think that I have matured at least a little. Croft: All right, all right. I’ll give you that. Though, you have not seemed to grow all that much since then... Elvóthien: Oh, stop it! Now you are just teasing me. I used to be taller than you, you know! Croft: Hah, I remember. ( ...she’s still just as pretty, however... ) Elvóthien: Hmm? Did you say something, Croft? Croft: What? N-no, I did not. Let us discuss the book, shall we? I’m anxious to hear how you liked it.

CROFT & ELVÓTHIEN S SUPPORT