Chapter note:
This story is filled with angst and torture and blood and gore. But for now, let me allow the characters to enjoy their time :)
Once again, sorry for the typos.
"That tickles." Heine twitches his shoulders playfully as he lets out a short chuckle.
What the fuck.
Well, currently and awkwardly—especially for the vampire hunter turned butler and unknowingly turned personal caregiver—both of them are spending their time inside the pureblood's rather extravagant bathroom. The whole room, like any other room the mansion has, surely costs a fortune. Its floor and walls are covered in black marble, the main dome shaped ceiling depicts a full mural of gods and goddesses playing, bathing. Its pillars are gold plated and are crafted with leaves and vines spreading upwards. In the middle of it is the bathing area, a huge circular pool that can accomodate 10 or more people. The whole room's so pointless, despite majestic architecture, since this very bathroom is solely for the vampire's bath time use. No one is allowed inside except Heine and whoever is butler is which, as of now, is Wenzel.
Like a juvenile currently enjoying his bath time, Heine swims back and forth, swirling around the huge pool; his ebony black long wavy hair, now straight and far longer, has reached past his hipbones, with silk strands sticking all through out his skin. Now, after playing around while wearing that rather gentle and innocent smile—despite what Wenzel sees, he still thinks of it as plainly stupid—the vampire stands by the side of the pool where Wenzel rubs his arms with a rose scented towel.
"Do I seriously need to do this three times a day?" He lets out an exasperated sigh. It's tiresome even for a pretend butler, oh caregiver rather, like him.
"I think you should review your job description. Seriously my dear hunter." Heine smiles like everything's a joke. And the way he utters my dear vampire hunter makes Wenzel cringe enough to make his blood boil to its highest temperature point. "If you hate this so much, then I'm happy to fire you." He hums and continues on. "You won't happen to kill me then."
"I could drown you now." Wenzel's had enough of his playfulness and sarcasm. He badly would want to fist some of the vampire's precious hair and submerge his whole head into the water until he could no longer feel him breathing. Oh how euphoric it is with the thought of it.
"You would do that to me." Heine lets out a mocking gasp, pretending to be surprised about the notion. "I dare you." He smiles.
"Don't challenge me." He throws the towel onto the wet floor and glares at him.
"I won't die by drowning. You're wasting your effort. Believe me, I've tried it." Heine taps the tip of Wenzel's nose just to tease him. Before he could even grasp the vampire's arm to at least teach him a lesson, Heine swiftly averts it and swims into the other side of the pool. "Do you want to come at me, and teach me a lesson; join me."
What a little shit he is. Wenzel thought. He could clearly see him snickering a little bit. The pureblood's enjoying this; pulling the hunter's emotional strings, seeing how much he could take before he snaps and eventually pounds Heine's seemingly fragile head into the solid floor. He won't die anyway. But he rather wants to be tortured, and hurt. But Wenzel won't give up. The vampire dares to challenge him, okay, he's going to give him what he wants. He clearly knows what he's going to do next, and it would definitely shut that darn pureblood's mouth and make him stop.
Wenzel smiles at him—his sneer, purely evil. It took him weeks to study everything and block the pureblood's dark gift of mind reading. It's a simple thing though; but requires enough concentration. He simply thinks of a huge black wall and nothing else; eventually the pureblood can't read past it even if he tries it. Heine would only narrow his eyes and pout at him—the expression of his immaculate face is screaming about how largely unfair Wenzel is to him.
"What are you thinking Wenzel?" Heine startles a bit as his whole pallid body stiffens.
He doesn't reply of course. He remains standing, smiling at him gloriously. So evil. Oh how he badly wanted to do it. Slowly Wenzel undresses—removes his waistcoat first, teasingly unbuttons his dress shirt, exposing his chiseled body. Soon he was topless. Heine gulped at the site of it, his wide glassy eyes staring at him with his mouth partly opened. Wenzel looked like a masculine greek god in front of him. Those bloody, perfectly shaped pectorals, muscled arms, his damnable tight abs. He could immediately feel his soul detach from his body, and his stomach sink into the pits of the pool upon watching the hunter remove his trousers and finally his undergarments, exposing everything in sight. His cock, fucking huge, largest Heine has ever seen, remains limp, dangling slightly as the hunter slowly walks in and finally dips himself into the pool, leaving his uniform scattered into the moist marble tiles.
The poor pureblood remains immobile as he continues to stand there gaping like an idiot. His brain has finally shorted at some point. He couldn't think, he couldn't get off the bloody pool and run away as fast as he can—never to see Wenzel again. Soon, the hunter's inches away from him, towering him, trapping him like a poor, trembling little lamb ready to be eaten by a huge bad wolf. He was a head shorter than him, his physique immensely wider than his toned and lithe one. With murderous eyes gazing at him, while wearing the most evil sneer he has ever encountered in his seemingly endless life, Wenzel then cages him with his body; with his muscled arms on either side of Heine's body, hands gripping onto the tiles so tight the hunter's knuckles are already white against his perfectly tanned skin. Their chests are inches apart Heine could clearly feel the warmth of Wenzel's skin.
"I'm here now, joining you Master."
What the fuck is he thinking about? Heine panics. All he could see is a huge black wall and nothing else. He couldn't penetrate it—he sees nothing. Wenzel's thoughts are blocked. He lets out a faint whimper.
"Am I going to teach you a lesson? Hmm. What could it be—can you guess it? Can you read my mind??" The larger man slowly leans in, so close his lips are already brushing Hein's cheekbones, sliding gently into his ear. He whispers.
"No." He gasps. His heart rate increases. Is it possible if he dies of heart attack? He never tried to die of shock, or shame, or eventual—mind blowing lust that causes your heart to just stop.
"I see. This is how I shut you up and eventually behave." He chuckles. Oh the devil. "However..."
Heine could feel his cock harden, an erection forming. With Wenzel so close he could...
"What is this?" The hunter chuckles. "Oh."
"Wenzel..." Heine whimpers, his hands slowly rising, pressing them against Wenzel's chest. "Okay, you can stop now."
"But I'm not yet done My dear pureblood." He sneers, his eyes piercing.
Everything's so hazy. His thoughts muddled. His erection aching, ready to burst even without touching it. Slowly he could feel strong calloused fingers enveloping his hard member.
"S-stop this." Heine's body betrays him as he unconsciously starts to move his hips desperately rubbing his erection into Wenzel's fist.
"But you're enjoying it."
He starts to mewl, oh the sensation is killing him. It's the very first time someone has given him a fucking hand job. It's ecstatic, addictive. What more if this continues on to more advanced... stuff. He only touches himself if necessary, and it even doesn't give him the right pleasure his centuries old body needs.
But this has to stop. Then there it is, like a haze clearing; Wenzel removes the huge black wall obscuring his thoughts, and the things happening inside of his mind. The truth is, he doesn't enjoy any of it—in fact, he despises it and the hunter's doing it to tease Heine and eventually humiliate him. This merely entertains him like the vampire's a freak performing in a damned circus. He's mean, a fucking evil human being who toys with his innocence, and his sensitive feelings.
"I said stop it!" Heine head butts the hunter, hitting half of his face, the casualty of it: his darn nose.
Wenzel moves away, groaning as he holds his bleeding nose up.
His cock has gone limp, his lust addled mind gone, everything gone, and what's left of him is utter humiliation. He half blames himself for ruining the hunter's composure by acting like a total dipshit. But anyway, he's going to have a revenge. Well, everybody hates the trickster, old vampire that he is.
His going to ruin Wenzel's life. But for now, he wins a point.