Violence

He remembered where he was buried, though. He could see the path leading to the forest behind the manor from the window in Lord Gethin’s room. He’d been mostly confined to Lord Gethin’s chambers ever since. Without restraints, though the manacles still hung from the wall like a silent threat.

He had become merely a phantom to the other servants, only acknowledged by them when Lord Gethin needed him to tell them something. Which was also one of the only times he was allowed to leave his chambers. Other times was when Lord Gethin asked him to fetch him something, though usually he would summon one of the servants to do that for him.

Only at night did he ask Ian instead of the servants. Humans needed to rest every night, after all. They didn’t. It was a strange sensation and Ian still wasn’t used to it. He still longed for his bed once the sun set, but instead that meant it was time for his daily meal.

One of the servants would come in. Lord Gethin would either lead him to the bed or ask him to approach. Ian was to wait where he happened to be standing or seated. The first sip was always for Lord Gethin and only after he was satisfied he would call Ian over and allowed him to drink what was left. Sometimes it was only a sip or two before he was ordered to stop. Enough to keep him sane, but not enough to satisfy him.

He couldn’t complain, though. Literally. Lord Gethin forbade it. Once he had gotten over the shock of his transformation, Ian realised quite fast that he couldn’t disobey Lord Gethin’s commands, even when he wanted to. (Which wasn’t often.) Whatever he ordered, Ian’s body always moved before his mind could and Lord Gethin knew it all too well.

Lord Gethin didn’t like to share. That’s why he stopped Ian from drinking more blood than he needed at the least. At most he would share…himself, after the feeding. Make Ian and the half-conscious servant take turns.

“Show him how to do it properly.” he would say.

And Ian obeyed.

He didn’t mind being a phantom so much anymore. He wasn’t proud of the things he helped them do. That he forced them to do… It was the only time he considered to disobey and the worst time to find that he couldn’t. But the servants didn’t seem to remember even seconds after and Ian told himself the limited interaction he was allowed with them would prevent them from remembering as well.

A small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

If he wasn’t doing tasks for Lord Gethin or entertaining him otherwise, Ian spent his days reading the books he was allowed to borrow or staring out the window, watching either the clouds or the stars in the night sky slowly pass by. He also kept the room tidy and the fire in the hearth burning.

Some days, Lord Gethin gave him a lesson. Either about Ian’s new condition or just anything that happened to come to mind. About the book Ian asked to read or its author, or about the stars he caught him staring at. Ian liked those lessons, they were a kindness. The “vampire lessons” however…could go either way.

Sometimes they were simple. Lord Gethin merely answered a question when Ian asked it. Like why he wasn’t allowed to go out during the day, after Lord Gethin explicitly forbade it.

“Are the stories true, my lord?” he had asked, “Do we perish in the light of the sun?”

“No, Ian, the sun is not that powerful.” Lord Gethin had replied, not looking up from his book, “But it darkens our skin like peasants spending all day in the sun for the entire harvest season in merely a few hours. And we are not peasants.”

Other times he liked to demonstrate and that usually meant he was going to teach Ian what could still harm him as a vampire. Like when he asked why he couldn’t see his reflection in a decorative mirror in the library, but could still see it in the window that night…

Ian glanced down at his wrist. There was still a red burn on it, from the silver bracelet Lord Gethin made him wear til sunrise. The sun was setting now and the burn still hadn’t healed. Lesson learned. Avoid touching silver.

“It gets worse as you grow older.”

Ian looked up. Lord Gethin, who had been warming himself by the fire, had suddenly turned and addressed him.

“It…will not heal, my Lord?” Ian asked, looking back down at his wrist.

“Have your ears ceased to work?” Lord Gethin chided, “You shall be healed come morning, I already told you this. But the older you get, the more severely silver will burn you. I daren’t even touch it through cloth…”

Ian struggled to imagine Lord Gethin being hurt so easily. And supposedly worse than what he experienced the other night. He’d been sobbing and begging for mercy within the hour. He was sure something that would harm Lord Gethin would have him begging for the final mercy of death.

Lord Gethin stepped over to him, putting a hand under his chin and making him look up.

“Best not dwell on it.” he said. His fingers kept pulling at Ian’s chin, as if he had them hooked around his jawbone, so he stood up and followed the pull until his face was merely inches from Lord Gethin’s. Ian parted his lip, knowing a kiss was next. He tilted his head exactly the way Lord Gethin preferred it…and then they both froze.

A crack echoed through the manor like a crack of thunder in a clear blue sky.

Once. Twice. And then again.

“Someone…at the door.” Lord Gethin slowly said, finally recognising the noise.

Someone was using the heavy cast-iron knocker on the front door. Ian was surprised it was useable at all. He was sure it had rusted into place. They had never had a visitor ever since they moved in. He suspected Lord Gethin made sure the nearby village was unaware the manor was even there and the staff had only used the back entrance by the kitchens. The front door was only for Lord Gethin and Lord Gethin never left. At least, not that Ian could recall.

He looked back at Lord Gethin, still so very close to his face, so he made sure to speak in a quiet voice as to not upset him.

“Shall I answer, my lord?” he nearly whispered.

“Yes.” Lord Gethin said, “I shall meet them in the parlour, we might get a decent meal out of it…”

Ian regretted his suggestion to answer, but he stepped back and inclined his head, before heading towards the door. The servant’s door, out of habit, still. Lord Gethin didn’t protest. He just told him to hurry, before one of the servants beat him to it.

The main hall was deserted. Ian realised all the servants were sat down for supper, so they probably hadn’t heard the knocker at all and there was no bell connected to the door to alert them either. The door was locked firmly shut and if it hadn’t been for his recently increased strength, Ian was sure it would have been impossible to open.

The lock opened with a crack that rang in his sensitive ears and the hinges creaked in such a way that it appeared the very house was moaning as it finally got to stretch a very achy joint. Ian couldn’t stand the sound, so he only opened it about halfway, standing in the opening and observing the lone figure on their doorstep.

It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. The figure was clad in rich reds, golden and brown fabric. They looked soft and velvety and sturdy. Sewn and embroidered with golden thread. The sleeves of their doublet and their hose were puffed, giving them an almost comically round appearance. A white, lace collar rested on their shoulders, upon which some curled locks of auburn hair rested.

But Ian only got a brief glance of the figure’s absurd outfit as his eye was quickly drawn by their face…or lack thereof. The man wore a mask that resembled a painted face, with an exaggerated smile formed by golden lips and eyes surrounded by nearly hypnotic swirls of black, red and gold. It was tucked against the figure’s face securely by a red velvet hat adorned with some plumage.

Hands clad in black gloves and adorned with bejewelled rings gracefully rested on the head of a cane, the figure tilting its head as Ian appeared to be at a loss of words.

“Will you not invite a weary traveller inside?”

It was a man’s voice. He spoke with an accent that Ian couldn’t quite place. And hearing him speak while the mouth on his mask stayed still was rather unsettling.

“I am begging your pardon, master.” Ian said politely, “We rarely see travellers here.”

“And that is a reason to leave them out in the cold?”

“Only if they have no business here.” Ian said curtly.

He hoped he could deter the stranger from wanting to enter so his life may be spared. But then he leaned forward and in the shade of the mask that fell over his eyes, Ian could have sworn he saw a glint of red in the dark void where his eyes should be.

“I assure you, I have business here.” he said, his voice akin to a purr, “I wish to see Reverend Gethin…or does he go by a different title these days?”

That changed things.

“You know Lord Gethin?” Ian asked.

“In-ti-mate-ly.” the stranger emphasised, before straightening up again and tapping his cane on the floor and demanding, “Invite me in!”

“Your name, if you please.” Ian responded, refusing to be intimidated.

“Well, if Colin goes by Lord Gethin presently, I suppose you may call me Lord Leander Nikolić.”

“…very well.” Ian said, opening the door properly and gesturing for him to pass through, “Do come in, Lord Nikolić.”

“Lord” Nikolić stepped inside with a smooth gait, his boots tapping quietly on the stone floor. He carried his cane, before thumping it on the floor with a definitive click as he stopped in the middle of the main hall and looked around.

The house groaned as Ian closed the door again, the lock closing reminding him of a cough. After that he turned back to Lord Nikolić to find him reaching for his mask and pulling it down, revealing his eyes…and pausing there. They were indeed red, like Lord Gethin’s and Ian’s and suddenly the young man realised how this man might be related to Lord Gethin.

“Lead the way~” he said, the glint of a smile in his eyes.

Ian inclined his head and headed towards the left.

“My lord shall see you in the parlour.” he said, before knocking on the door and opening it.

Lord Gethin was stood by the window next to the fireplace, a small fire had barely gotten started. Ian briefly wondered if Lord Gethin had started it himself or whether he had rushed one of the servants while Ian was talking with their visitor. Then he cleared his throat and announced him.

“My lord…a Lord Nikolić is here to see you.”

Lord Gethin suddenly whipped around, his glare making Ian very nervous. Had he done something wrong? Or was he not as familiar with Lord Nikolić as their visitor claimed? Or was he perhaps…too familiar?

“Leandros?” he said.

Before Ian could answer he was pushed aside, the tip of Lord Nikolić’s cane poking painfully in his back as he forced him to step forward so he could enter the room.

“Colin!” he greeted, the way one might greet an old friend. He dramatically spread both his arms, cane in one hand, his mask in the other.

Ian circled the room past the wall until he stood behind his lord and he could see why Lord Nikolić hid his face behind a mask. He was smiling unconservatively, sharp fangs glinting in the light from the fire.

He was a vampire. Like Lord Gethin.

“What on earth brings you here?” Lord Gethin asked, not greeting the man with the same enthusiasm.

“Can a man not simply wish to see his dearly beloved brother~?” Lord Nikolić said, before sitting down uninvited.

“Simple is not and adjective I associate with you.” Lord Gethin said dismissively.

“Oh you wound me!” Lord Nikolić cried out, draping himself dramatically over his chair.

“Why are you here?” Lord Gethin asked again, “Last I heard you returned to Greece.”

“Yes and it has been awful. They are all Christians now!” Lord Nikolić said, “Not an ounce of fun to be had! I travelled from country to country for a few centuries and wound up in Venice and it has been perfect!”

“They dress like that in Venice now?” Lord Gethin just asked.

“The elite do.” Lord Nikolić replied with a shrug, “Which is why it is perfect. Men and women already throw themselves at me because it looks like I have money and they are not deterred until it is already too late because my mask hides my fangs~ And if I allow them to live…they will not even recognise me next time because I can just wear a different mask~”

“And yet. You are here.” Lord Gethin deadpanned.

“Well yes, you can only slaughter so many lambs each carnival season before the sheep panic.” Lord Nikolić said with a shrug.

“So you have overplayed your hand once again and you have come to seek shelter?” Lord Gethin asked.

“I merely need to lay low for a while and I figured my darling brother is always so proud of his flock he may shelter me until I can safely return to Venice~”

Ian’s chest tightened. His heart didn’t beat so it couldn’t skip one, but it should have in response to the anxiety that suddenly washed over him. This man, who kept referring to humans as animals, wanted to stay and live off of the servants as well.

Ian had accepted that he wasn’t human anymore, but he couldn’t let go of the feeling that the servants had once been like brothers to him — They still were. Which was part of why he didn’t enjoy to feed from them, even if it was a necessary evil.

Even Lord Gethin cared for them in a way. Knowing every death would impact their food security. He only took what he needed and made sure Ian did the same. But he didn’t appear to have the same hold over Lord Nikolić as he did others and Lord Nikolić appeared to hold no value for human life at all.

Or at least, too little to not draw attention to himself. Lord Gethin had taught Ian that while humans were weaker than them in every regard, there was one way they did have an upper hand on vampires and that was sheer numbers. Numbers that could be used against a lone powerful creature if they were aware enough that there was something to be afraid of.

That was why they only fed from the nearby town as a last resort. And Ian wondered if that was what they would need to placate Lord Nikolić.

“My lord?” Ian quietly spoke up, “I could fetch your guest something to…eat from town?”

“Why go all the way back there when you have plenty of warm blood under this very roof?” Lord Nikolić asked, “I can smell them~ Your deliciously docile pets~”

Ian’s stomach churned and he gave Lord Gethin an anxious and pleading look.

“My lord?” he asked, only able to pray that he would choose to protect his servants.

“You forget yourself, Ian.” Lord Gethin eventually said, “Show our guest to his rooms, I’ll ask one of the servants to arrange a meal for him.”

Ian quickly looked down and bowed his head apologetically.

“I am begging your pardon, my lord.” he said, before turning to their guest, “Whenever you are ready, I shall show you to your rooms, Lord Nikolić.”

“I knew I could count on you, Colin my dear brother!” he said as he got up, “And after I have fed you simply must tell me about your little thrall~”

He eyed Ian with a smirk and suddenly Ian didn’t want to be alone with this man.

“He can tell you himself.” Lord Gethin said dismissively, “Off you go now.”

Ian reluctantly obeyed, heading back towards the parlour door and holding it open for Lord Nikolić. At least it wasn’t a direct command, so he could simply tell him nothing if he didn’t want to, which he didn’t.

He waited for Lord Nikolić to step out into the hall before closing the door to the parlour and leading him up the stairs. They had guest rooms, only they never used them. Still, they were frequently cleaned and maintained, simply to make sure the staff kept busy. And conveniently for Lord Nikolić, they had been cleaned recently again.

The guest rooms were a bit smaller than Lord Gethin’s rooms, but they still had everything one might need: A comfortable bed, a dresser for clothes, a fireplace to keep warm, a chaise longue to rest on, and in the corner a close stool to more comfortably use the chamber pot.

“I shall make the bed for you, if you allow.” Ian said, noticing the bed had been left bare while Lord Nikolić looked around approvingly.

“How long have you been a thrall?”

Ian paused on his way to the door to fetch some sheets and paused, turning back.

“How long have I been what, my lord?” he asked, confused.

“A thrall.” Lord Nikolić repeated, “You are enslaved to Colin, are you not? As a result of your transformation?”

“I agreed to serve him for eternity, yes.” Ian said.

“Yes, well, that is called a thrall. You are bound to Colin. You are his thrall.”

“I see…” Ian said, “As for how long…I am unsure. Some weeks, I believe, perhaps even moons.”

“Well surely you have already realised that we do not require sleep then, silly boy.”

“My apologies.” Ian said, “Lord Gethin likes to rest on his bed and prefers it made. I assumed you might prefer that too.”

“Oh, so you were being thoughtful?” Lord Nikolić asked with a chuckle, “How delectable~”

“So…you do not wish for the bed to be made?” Ian asked.

“Later.” Lord Nikolić said, “I’d rather you get a fire going. It is freezing in here.”

Ian inclined his head and knelt down by the fireplace to get a fire going. Lord Nikolić hovered behind him, probably just hoping to catch the first warmth as soon as Ian got a decent flame going. Ian paid him no mind, making sure the fire was ventilated properly before getting back up. He turned to ask if their guest wanted anything else, only to find he had been standing right behind him.

Lord Nikolić was wearing his mask again, head tilted slightly as his fabricated nose nearly touched Ian’s. Ian blinked, but other than that he held still, glancing at the red glint behind the mask’s eye holes.

“Is there anything else I may help you with, my lord?” he asked.

“Tell me…” he purred behind the mask, “Why did he choose to transform you?”

“So I may serve him for eternity.” Ian answered.

“Serve him how?”

“However he needs, of course.” Ian said. He wanted to step back, but he could feel the hearth’s mantle against the back of his head.

“However he needs, huh?” Lord Nikolić repeated, “Are you just an easy lay then?”

“M-my lord?”

Lord Nikolić chuckled underneath his mask, but before he could elaborate, there was a knock on the door. He looked at the door over his shoulder and Ian took the chance to slip away and headed over to open the door. It was Ruben, one of the servants. He was nearly Ian’s age and usually oversaw the room cleanings.

“Oh, Ian!” he said, sounding surprised, “Lord Gethin said we have a guest and asked me to see to him.”

“…of course.” Ian said, “I had just finished showing him around.”

He opened the door further and let Ruben in, only for the boy to pause in the doorway as he saw their guest’s appearance. He seemed at a loss for words, until Ian gave him a nudge.

“Don’t be rude, Ruben!” he quietly hissed, nudging him inside so he could close the door again.

“My apologies!” Ruben quickly said, bowing his head.

“Ruben, this is Lord Nikolić, he is Lord’s Gethin’s guest. My lord, this is Ruben.”

“It’s a pleasure to have you, my lord.” Ruben said, bowing his head again, managing to keep his cool so long as he didn’t look at their masked visitor.

“Oh the pleasure is all mine~” Lord Nikolić said, his artificial face unmoving, but the tone of his voice betrayed he was looking the boy over.

“Would you like a late dinner, my lord?” Ruben offered, “Our cook can make you a tray.”

“Dinner sounds delightful, but a tray shan’t be necessary.” Lord Nikolić replied, “Come closer, let me see you in a better light.”

Ruben didn’t move. Instead he glanced at Ian questioningly. And Ian wasn’t sure what to tell him. He knew what Lord Nikolić really wanted for dinner, but he was only familiar with Lord Gethin’s methods, who would have already put Ruben in some kind of trance at this point to ensure he would be perfectly obedient.

A calmer human’s blood tastes better, after all, Lord Gethin had said.

Ian didn’t know what Lord Nikolić preferred, but he knew interfering would upset Lord Gethin, so he nodded and gestured for Ruben to do as requested. With Ian’s permission, Ruben stepped over to Lord Nikolić, still making sure to keep a respectful distance as well and trying to look anywhere but at the creepy mask.

“Do not fear, boy…”

Ian could hear the smirk in his voice and he wondered if he should slip out and pretend to have been dismissed. But he couldn’t do that to Ruben, so he stayed. Stood silently by the door as he watched the scene unfold.

“Would you prefer it if I removed my mask?”

“W-what I prefer is not important, my lord.” Ruben respectfully said.

Lord Nikolić chuckled, reaching for his mask and pulling it down. His eyes peeked over the edge, the lower half of his face still covered.

“I see Colin trained you well~” he said, “Do you know any other tricks? Turn for me.”

Ruben shot Ian another confused look as he began to slowly turn around, but Ian was conveniently focussed on wiping a speck of dust off of his sleeve and didn’t look back up until Ruben had already turned further and was facing Lord Nikolić again, who chuckled behind his mask again.

“Delightful~” he said, “Come. Sit.”

Before Ruben got the chance to politely decline, Lord Nikolić already essentially swept him off his feet and laid him down on the chaise longue and pinned him there.

“M-my lord?” Ruben gasped, trying to shuffle back, but his back was against the armrest. He looked at Ian for help, but Ian seemed to be looking directly past him, with a vacant look in his eyes.

“Hush, boy…” Lord Nikolić said, removing his mask entirely and putting it aside.

Ruben looked back at him and saw his fanged grin. And he screamed.

There was no reassurance, no gentle touch, no merciful mind control; Just Ruben screaming and Lord Nikolić’s deep, guttural hiss before he tore into the boy’s flesh…

Ian had planned to take Ruben to Lord Gethin afterwards, hoping he would allow him the mercy of forgetting this night. But then the screaming abruptly stopped and the sweet smell of blood quickly turned rotten and Ian knew it was too late.

He stared at the back of the chaise longue, watching Lord Nikolić slowly sit up, licking the blood off of his lips. Ruben’s arm, which had been gripping the back rest in terror, now hung limply over it. Lord Nikolić looked at Ian with a bloodied grin.

“Yes~?” he asked.

“Y-you killed him…” Ian managed to say.

“Oh, my apologies. Had you wanted a sip~?”

Ian hesitated at first, before coming to his senses and shaking his head.

“Well then don’t just stand there.” Lord Nikolić said, “Clean this up before it stinks up the room.”

He got off of the boy, heading over to the washing basin to clean his face, while Ian slowly stepped over to the chaise longue and viewed the carnage left behind. Half of Ruben’s throat had been eaten away, his face twisted in fear, still wet with tears, his eyes wide and bloodshot.

Ian felt his own eyes begin to water as he knelt besides the boy and stroked his hair. And for the first time, as far as he remembered, he likened Lord Gethin to a monster — In his mannerisms, not his nature. It was impossible that he didn’t know Lord Nikolić would murder Ruben. He chose to send him, knowing his friend would have no mercy.

Lord Gethin sacrificed Ruben.

Ian buried Ruben in the forest behind the manor, among the shallow graves of others whose names he didn’t remember. He didn’t have the time to dig a deeper grave for Ruben either. He had to hurry back and remove the chaise longue from the guest room. Much of Ruben’s blood had spilled into the fabric and he knew it would stink up the room as badly as a corpse would.

Something about blood from a deceased person was inherently disgusting, though he wasn’t sure why, but he assumed it was bad for them one way or another and he also couldn’t stand the smell. So he stopped in the now-deserted kitchen to wash the blood and mud off of his hands before heading back to Lord Nikolić room.

However, when he returned, he found the doors open and he could hear Lord Gethin’s voice. So he ran the last few steps and stopped in the doorway, holding his breath. Lord Gethin was talking to Lord Nikolić, pressing a handkerchief against his nose against the smell from the chaise longue.

“I offer you a room and a meal and this is how you repay me?” he said, “His life was not yours to end, it was mine.”

Lord Nikolić shrugged, seeming rather unimpressed by Lord Gethin’s lecture.

“Did you not choose to end it by offering it to me?” he reasoned, “If it pleases you, I did rather enjoy it~”

“I gathered that.” Lord Gethin said, gesturing at the blood stain on the chaise longue, “Do not let it happen again.”

“Or what? You will sic your precious thrall on me~?”

Lord Gethin glanced back at Ian, who was still stood in the door opening and, for a moment, Ian feared he was considering the option, but then Lord Nikolić continued.

“Go ahead.” he said, “I shall thoroughly enjoy putting him in his place~”

“You will do no such thing.” Lord Gethin said, “Perhaps one day if you have a thrall of your own you can put that in its place, but you shan’t touch mine.”

“You might wish to remind your thrall of that~” Lord Nikolić teased, “He did not seem inclined to reject any of my advances~”

Lord Gethin’s glare now fixed on Ian and the boy instinctively took a step back, before realising that Lord Nikolić was being untruthful.

“M-my lord,” he said, “there were no—”

He promptly stopped when Lord Gethin held up his hand, anxiously awaiting his reaction.

“Go to my chambers.” he said, “I shall speak with you when I am done here.”

“Y-yes, my lord.” Ian said, bowing his head before backing out of the room and closing the door.

Lord Gethin’s chambers were on the opposite end of the manor from the guest room, but by the time Ian reached it he could still hear the argument between him and Lord Nikolić. He couldn’t understand it, however. They spoke in a language he didn’t recognise.

Ian closed the door and waited by the window, staring at the path leading to the forest behind the manor until he heard the voices or Lord Gethin and Lord Nikolić subside. A door closed and he could hear Lord Gethin’s footfalls approaching the room. So Ian turned away from the window and looked down as he waited for the door to open.

As soon as it opened, he bowed his head properly, tensing up a bit as Lord Gethin closed the door rather harshly. He marched over to the fireplace, pausing there, probably warming himself a bit by the flames, before turning around.

“Come here.”

Ian stepped towards him, suddenly feeling anxious about what Lord Nikolić might have said. Lord Gethin’s hand brushed past his cheek and over the back of his head and Ian relaxed a bit. But then Lord Gethin suddenly gripped his hair tightly and forced him to look up. Ian gasped a bit in surprise, but he knew better than to protest, so he stayed quiet as he peered up at Lord Gethin.

“Tell me the truth.” he said, “Did my foolish brother touch you the way I have touched you?”

“No, my lord.” Ian said.

“And if he had…what would you have done?”

Ian thought for a second, before assuming Lord Gethin still wanted the truth.

“I-I am unsure, my lord.” he said, “It never occurred to me that he might. O-or anyone for that matter. All my life…there has only ever been you, my lord.”

“And don’t you ever forget that, Ian.” Lord Gethin said, thankfully letting go of Ian’s hair and cupping his cheek instead, “You are my most perfect creation. And no one gets to soil that. You were mine the second I encouraged your father to first speak to your mother. I gave you life and eternal life and all I am asking in return is that you remain loyal so long as we both walk this earth.”

Ian wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He felt warm and loved, but he also felt guilty as he still questioned Lord Gethin’s decision to send Ruben to Lord Nikolić’s room…but then he also seemed upset that the boy’s life had been cut short, so had Ian been in the wrong to judge his decision?

Lord Gethin’s thumb brushed over his cheek before he retracted his hand and Ian realised he had shed a tear. Though whether it was joy or regret he couldn’t say for sure. Fortunately Lord Gethin didn’t seem to know either and paid it no mind altogether.

“Disrobe.” he just said, gesturing towards his bed, “Show me how loyal you are.”

Ian undressed slowly, taking off one piece of clothing at a time as he slowly stepped towards the bed, only arriving once he was fully nude. Then he first walked around, carefully untying and closing the drapes around the bed, except for the last one. He untied the last drape by the headboard on the side that faced the hearth and held it aside for Lord Gethin.

Lord Gethin shed his robes before he approached, pushing Ian rather harshly onto the mattress and crawling in after him. The curtain fell closed, leaving only a small crack through which Ian could see the flickering of the flames in the hearth, reflected in a thin stripe on the canopy. Something to focus on while he had his head tilted back so Lord Gethin could kiss his throat, slowly working his way up and over his jaw before forcing him to tilt his head back so he could kiss his lips.

The room was silent, other than the crackling from the fire, the rustling of sheets, and quiet gasps. Lord Gethin positioned Ian more to his liking, digging his nails into his skin to prompt the boy to move, whilst simultaneously still pinning him down with a long kiss.

When he eventually broke the kiss, he sat up, tracing a finger over Ian’s lips until he opened his mouth. Lord Gethin pushed his finger in. His middle finger first and his ring finger second, pressing down on Ian’s tongue and holding them there, while with his free hand he prompted the boy to spread his legs further as he nestled between them.

Ian thought he could feel Lord Gethin’s nails scrape against the back of his throat and he gagged, squeezing his eyes shut as he knew how Lord Gethin usually responded to that. Instead of pulling out, he pushed his fingers deeper until Ian calmed down. It wasn’t so bad now that he didn’t really need to breathe anyway, but suppressing the reflex still took a lot of effort.

By the time he managed to hold still long enough for Lord Gethin to finally pull his fingers out, Ian had fresh tears rolling down the side of his face and seeping into the velvet blankets. Meanwhile Lord Gethin simply took his fingers, drenched in saliva, and positioned them between Ian’s legs, pushing into him once again.

It was unpleasant and cold, but Ian knew it was just temporary. He would forget about this soon until the next time. Usually as soon as Lord Gethin pulled his fingers out before he finally——

Ian moaned and the last bit of tension in his body dissipated as he essentially melted in Lord Gethin’s hands. Hands that pulled at his waist until he couldn’t get closer and he was lifted off the mattress instead. Lifted until his whole body was pressed against Lord Gethin, chest against chest, arms wrapped around, and his face pressed into the crook of his neck.

For a moment Lord Gethin held Ian like he never had before, arms wrapped around him tightly, nearly squeezing the air out of him. But then they loosened, his hands drifting down to Ian’s waist, holding him in place while he began rocking his hips. Ian moaned again as Lord Gethin thrust in and out of him at a steady pace.

Steady, but slow.

And Ian knew it would be a while before he would see beyond the drapes of the bed again.

THIS ONE IS SO LONG SORRY LOL

Not actually sorry, I had a lot of fun introducing Leander Nikolić (even if I did spend about two hours figuring out how to type the ć without having to copy and paste the character every time and ended up learning some coding oh my gawd).

Gethin refers to him as Leandros as that's what he first called himself when they met, but he goes by Leander now :3

@unwholesomeocweek

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