Little Boy Belmont (Richter x Olrox)

Chapter Thirty: Ritual

"You don't..." Richter blinks, "see me as a monster?"
"No, why would I?" Olrox asks, genuinely sounding offended that Richter would dare think that way.
Belmont lets the Aztec lead him towards the room Olrox sleeps in.

Olrox's bed only has two blankets on it, one green, the other purple. But the sheets are silk, clearly expensive but enough to keep the vampire cool during the day since Teotihuacan is always fairly warm.
Richter sleeps in his own room down the hall, his own bed covered in jaguar furs much like the throne. Despite both men being so close, Richter is still wary about being next to Olrox as they sleep.

This is more out of nervousness, but Olrox understands. The Aztec can wait as long as he needs to for Richter to feel comfortable.
"I'm just going to remove your shirt. Is that alright with you?" he murmurs into Richter's ear. He knows Olrox is doing this to make him feel better, more confident. But he feels butterflies in his stomach all the same.

He had occasionally fooled around with girls and some guys back in France when he was still human, but it was little more than sneaking kisses in back alleys, nothing as serious as what he has with Olrox.
Richter nods, feeling Olrox gently remove the blue cloth and fold it on his bed.

The older vampire takes a moment to scan Richter up and down. Belmont's body is still muscular but slim, something that Richter has never paid attention to, but Olrox thinks he looks beautiful either way. He can still tell Richter is stressed from the smoke he breathes out, golden eyes downcast.

Olrox can feel the depression rolling off of him, just like what had happened back at the lake in France, what feels like a lifetime ago. The Aztec gently guides Belmont to sit on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his elbows. He goes slow with the kisses, gently pecking Richter's lips, then his cheeks, jawline, gradually going lower.
He listens to Belmont's every little hitch of breath or little gasp, feeling the younger vampire trembling a bit like he's lost in the euphoria.

"I promise not to go lower than your stomach," Olrox murmurs between kisses to Richter's neck. Belmont shakily nods, letting out a shuddered breath like he's holding in a moan.
He doesn't want to overwhelm Richter, not yet. Not until after the ritual is done, then they can finally be together physically.

Belmont's pupils are almost completely round, showing how relaxed he is. He hears Richter make a small purring sound in the back of his throat as he kisses a trail down his chest.
This goes on for a while, with Olrox whispering sweet nothings into Richter's ear as he cuddles him.

Richter's tense body relaxes, curled up against the Aztecs' body, head resting against Olrox's chest.
"You'll do wonderful," the older vampire whispers. "I promise you that."
The younger vampire nods, feeling a bit better.
****
May 22nd, the last day of Toxcatl.
They have to do the ritual at sundown.
Richter can hear the boom-doom, boom-doom of the large drums as the many Aztec men pound on them with sticks, jaguar fur stretched over each drum.

He looks up at the pyramid looming over the trees, the structure so high and dark it blocks out some of the stars. Richter is dressed for the part, mainly wearing a basic white loincloth and a cape that's probably made from the skin of the last person who had to climb up the same steps. His arms and legs have a blue stripe painted down the sides of his limbs.

He fidgets with the turquoise bracelets on his wrists, the colorful rock smooth against his skin. The same bracelets are on his ankles as well. He has to walk along the Avenue of the Dead, a long stretch of road that leads to the pyramid while the people watch from the sidelines.

So he walks, his footsteps matching in tune with the drums. With each step, he's leaving behind his humanity, his life as a vampire hunter, his life in France, his friends and family.
He'll visit them in France, of course, but it won't be the same.
Richter gets closer to the base of the pyramid, gripping the handful of clay flutes he had learned to play over the passing weeks.

Belmont has to smash them against the stone steps leading up to the pyramid. One step up, he throws one down, another step, he throws another down.
Crack, step, crack, step.
Tēzcatlipōca watches as he walks up the steps.
Olrox and Richter had rehearsed what he had to say the moment he got to the top.

The words are practically seared into Richter's mind at his point. He looks over at Olrox, the people chanting and drums pounding down below little more than a faint noise in the wind. Olrox nods, a faint smile on his face.
The Aztec looks more native now, not wearing his purple uniform. His hair has more braids in it, a few white feathers woven in the strands.
He has the same two white lines going down his face like Quetzalcoatl.

Like Richter, he's without a shirt. The Serpent God watches him as well, his expression unreadable under the red mask covering his mouth.
Belmont gets on his knees and closes his eyes, feeling Olrox removing the cape. Richter recites the words:
"Oh, master,
Oh our Lord,
Oh, Lord of the Near, of the Night,
Oh Wind...Poor am I.
In what manner should I act for thy city?
In what manner should I act for the governed, for the vassals?
For I am blind, I am deaf, I am an imbecile, and in excrement, in filth hath my lifetime been.
Perhaps thou mistaketh me for another; perhaps thou seekest another in my stead."

Olrox repeats Richter's words in Nahuatl, looking up at the sibling Gods.
"I know where my power comes from," Richter whispers, standing on his feet and lying down on the stone slab. The stone is cold on his bare skin despite the lingering heat of the sun barely visible against the trees.

"You're doing great," Olrox whispers, hovering over him with an obsidian knife in his hands.
"I'm trying my best here," Belmont murmurs. The Aztec smiles.
"Ready?"
"As I'll ever be," he says back. Olrox slashes Richter across the chest quickly, just enough to break the skin and drip a little blood. The injury will heal fairly quickly.
"Ow," Richter says, albeit sarcastically. Olrox laughs softly and steps away.

Tēzcatlipōca bites his own wrist open with his teeth. Richter is a little surprised to see the God's blood isn't red, it looks more like liquid gold, the same yellow as Belmont's eyes.
The Jaguar God's pale eyes stare down at him as the yellow blood is smeared across his forehead like tribal paint.
"From now until the end of time, we are bound by blood. This bond will never break, no matter how far apart we are. Your blood and mine are one in the same, forever."

The golden blood drips down, staining his mouth, his neck, then down to the slash on his chest. His blood mixes with the God's and his eyes widen. He can see Tēzcatlipōca's memories more clearly now, he can feel their bond getting stronger.
The God pulls his wrist away, the wound already healing.

"It is done!" Tēzcatlipōca shouts loud enough for the people below to hear.
Amidst the cheers of the people, Olrox helps Richter sit up on the stone.
"How do you feel?" Olrox whispers.
"Like I just unlocked the secrets of the universe," Richter admits, still shivering a little from the spike of power he just got from the God.
The golden blood dries on his lips and chest.

He offers some of the blood to Olrox, but the Aztec shakes his head.
"Drinking Tēzcatlipōca's blood would be betraying your Master," Olrox whispers, looking serious. Richter nods, leaning against him as they watch the people celebrating down below.