[[ Before The War... ]]
( again, smut for the sake of smut, you depraved monsters! <3 )
* * *
The sound of clashing steel resonated throughout the vibrant red and gold expanse of the King’s dojo. The two combatants snarled in fury as they charged at one another with their blades swinging, fearsome determination glittering in their blue eyes.
The taller man swung his sword, his smaller opponent gracefully leaning backwards just in time as the blade arced over his well-muscled chest. Henrik bared his teeth, fangs glinting in the gentle light of paper lanterns, swinging his own weapon upwards.
The painted face of the clown wore a wicked grin, his inky black hair wild as he leaped away in a crimson blaze, suddenly materializing behind the vampire. He swung his long, sinewy arms over the other's shoulders, bringing the edge of his blade up to his victim's throat. He leaned down, taking in the scent of Henrik’s hair.
“How long has it been since you've fed?” Johannes growled in his ear. “You're slowing down, Henrik… “
Henrik grabbed hold of those pale arms, his adversary’s weapon clattering to the marble floor as he vaulted the mad clown over his shoulders with a scream of rage. He moved like an angry storm, a blur of charcoal black smoke, throwing his opponent across the length of the arena.
Johannes winced in pain, staring down into into the vampire’s eyes, so dangerously blue... Henrik’s teeth hovered above the sharp curve of his collarbone, fangs ready to tear into the painted assassin's warm flesh, now pinned against the wall in his steel trap grip.
“It has… been a while.” Henrik whispered, his voice soft as he reveled in the intoxicating scent of warm blood pumping through Johannes’ veins.
A small smile crept onto the clown’s face and as a gesture of defeat, he tilted his head back,exposing his long neck to the victor of their sparring session. He felt the vampire’s grip tighten, a small gasp leaving Henrik’s lips at the invitation.
“We're going to war, my friend. You can't train if you're fucking anemic.” Johannes said, then smirked coyly. Besides, I made sure to eat plenty of mango before our sparring session tonight…”
“Hmm… How thoughtful of you to consider my health and vitamin C intake despite me kicking your skinny, sorry ass this evening!” Henrik chuckled. Johannes simply rolled his eyes in response.
“You do smell very sweet, though...” The vampire’s voice was now a low growl. He released the clown’s thin wrists, brushing the the damp, disheveled hair from his broad shoulders. Johannes lifted a large hand through his silken curls as Henrik gingerly sank his fangs into his neck.
He gasped sharply, coppery warmth trickling down his torso as Henrik drank from the wound. He held Johannes tight, the clown’s long fingers furling in his hair. His cheeks burned as a fire tore through his own cold veins, an explosion like a narcotic euphoria surging through synapses while Johannes’ blood restored his strength.
“H-Henrik…” Johannes whimpered, his own face flushed as he felt the smaller man's hips pressing hard against his, lost in his hunger. He felt a cool hand, rough from battle and from playing the rich, resonant notes of his bass, sliding hungrily down his bare back.
Johannes jumped as he felt the hand suddenly clutch the gentle curve of his ass through the soft black fabric of his pants.
“Henrik! Fuck, I think you're above the legal limit, my friend....” He was mildly dizzy, but he was more aware of the close proximity between them even as Henrik lifted his head, the warmth building steadily in his loins even at the sight of crinson smeared across the bassist’s lips.
Henrik’s blue eyes were alight with a subtle glow beyond their surface, an expression of ecstasy on his beautiful, bloodstained features. Johannes admired him as a warrior. The vampire’s battle tactics were ruthless as he used his strength and his fangs to flay open his victims at close range, as well as carefully strategizing the infiltration, ambush and extermination of The Enemy’s ever growing ranks.
Yet regardless of his savagery, Henrik never fed on the blood or flesh of animals, and the kingdom's refugee citizens were safe under his sharp eye, but he was a child of the starlight - a monster.
Curiously, Johannes bent to taste his blood on Henrik’s lips, now warm and alive after feeding. Henrik purred, kissing his friend more urgently, nipping and licking at those sharp, painted features. Johannes briefly considered the gold ring, delicately engraved with his King's sigil around his finger before plunging his long tongue into the vampire's mouth.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn't fuck you right here…” Henrik snarled, caressing the assassin’s pale cheek before he shoved him to the hard floor. Johannes’ heart was pounding, but the mad clown grin was wide on his face as Henrik straddled his hips.
“I'm too weak to teleport.” Johannes moaned. “I suppose I'm completely at your mercy. Oh, the horror…”
Johannes grabbed his muscular shoulders, yanking him down to kiss him again. Henrik responded by grinding his erection hard against the lithe form beneath him, feeling those long, agile legs lift around his waist. He reveled in the sweet sounds of pleasure slipping from the man's painted lips and Henrik felt a surge of power, knowing that Johannes, capable of empowering a nation with his voice alone could be reduced to a mewling kitten.
The sound of someone clearing his throat brought the eager tangle of limbs to an abrupt halt. The two men on the floor peered up, their blue eyes wide at the sight of their noble King.
“Training hard, are we?” Kungen inquired cooly, his bronzed and elaborately inked arms crossed over his chest. His dreadlocks hung over his shoulders, reaching down to his waist.He was clad in a flowing scarlet robe embroidered in delicate gold flowers that swept the ground behind him as he gracefully strode forward. His sparkling blue eyes were fixed angrily on the tall clown in particular.
“My König….” He growled, and his fiancé winced visibly. Henrik was upright in a plume of smoke and was now standing much further away than before, ready to flee just in case two new positions in The King's Royal Orchestra became available overnight.
“Darling… Uh, I can explain! Er, can I explain?!” Johannes stammered, glancing at Henrik before rising clumsily to his feet. He was considerably taller than his King, but he'd never felt smaller as he did at that moment, still hard and delirious. His Majesty was quite attractive when he was pissed off, which did not help matters.
“Nothing to explain here…” Kungen whispered, and for a moment, Johannes thought the everlasting King truly would strike him down with god-like fury! Instead, he grabbed the clown by the back of his head before grabbing him quite firmly through his pants. “Not at all…”
Johannes suppressed a howl, Henrik’s eyes widening as The King had Johannes completely at his mercy. Quirking a pierced eyebrow, Kungen wore a small smile as he glanced between his singer and bassist.
“Vampires can be so… Reckless when they haven't fed recently. It clouds their judgement...” The strong hand on Johannes’ neck slipped down to the puncture wounds on his neck, which were already healing rapidly.
His Majesty leaned forward, tongue flicking out briefly to taste the dried blood still shining against Johannes’ porcelain flesh. Johannes whimpered when he pulled him close, tasting the vampire as he tilted his head down to kiss him.
“What am I going to do with you, Johannes?” Kungen sighed. He glared sharply at Henrik, beckoning him over with the wave of his ringed finger. Henrik sheepishly complied, his cheeks still bright with Johannes’ blood.
“Sire, it wasn't his fault. I-” Henrik began, but The King’s low voice interrupted him.
“Don't bullshit a bullshitter, Henrik.” Kungen snapped, tightening his grip on his husband-to-be’s jaw. “Now, let us discuss this elsewhere…”
* * *
A massive stained glass window took up the majority of north wall in The King's chambers, an elaborate piece depicting a great Lion as its centerpiece. During the daylight hours, the beast shone gold, the crimson flag bearing the crest of its nation held in its massive teeth as it led warriors through a battlefield. Soft blue and purple curves of glass created the ocean of night brought on the back of the stone grey wings of the Owl goddess. Her eyes burned a deep amber and each of her etched feathers was sharp like a blade as she consumed the swirling light of the Eagle with darkness.
Henrik had never set foot in this vast room with its many tapestries and relics adorning the onyx black walls, momentos of the King's many victories that spanned through eons. The glass tableau of the God and Goddess keeping their realm in flux captured his attention, the Queen of Night even more sinister in the silver light of the moon glittering through her deadly wings.
He turned to look over his shoulder at The King and his Herald. Johannes’ slender face was free of the black and red war paint that twisted his features into that of the madman clown, the commanding voice of The King’s elite Orchestra. Silky raven hair spilled over one shoulder, his large blue eyes wandering the walls as they did when he was dreadfully worried and drifting away with the poetry in his mind. He sat across the room from The King, unable to look him in the eye for the moment.
“Beautiful, isn't it? The Owl and the Eagle, their eternal struggle...” Kungen sat cross-legged on the edge of the massive canopy-draped bed in the room's center, a sweet herbal musk permeating the chamber as smoke billowed from a spliff between his fingers. He look a long drag from the end, holding in the thick plume while watching Henrik quietly.
Henrik nodded neekly, turning to face his leader with his arms behind his back. ‘Beautiful indeed…’ he thought, regarding Johannes briefly as he drifted through his reverie. The King noticed this, sliding from the black satin sheets to approach the vampire where he stood.
“I grow weary of those who would seek to destroy the balance we've fought so hard to uphold,“ Kungen’s voice was gentle now, free of the thinly veiled rage Henrik had heard before. He was beside Henrik now, pale light dancing on his sharp, pierced features. His bearded profile, much like his statue in the city square, looked grave.
“The Enemy is close to breaching the veil cloaking our walls and our numbers have been depleted. I need to rely on my strongest men and women of the court to be ready to fight for one another, for our Citizens…”
“Your Majesty…” Henrik whispered.
He'd seen his King slaughter traitors and spies, severing heads from shoulders and cleaving bodies in halves without the slightest hesitation. Kungen’s faith in his highest council was unfaltering until now, and Henrik cursed himself silently at the thought of betraying that trust.
“Can I trust that you will fight beside me until the end?” Kungen asked, tilting his head towards his bassist as he took another fragrant drag, exhaling through his nose.
“Always, Your Majesty…” The answer came quickly, although it wasn't Henrik’s loyalty to the Kingdom that was in question. He watched the curling wisps of smoke thoughtfully when he felt the King’s inked arm loop around his waist. Kungen extinguished the smoldering roach on his tongue, sufficiently relaxed.
“Good…” Kungen whispered, pulling him closer. Confused, Henrik opened his mouth to speak, but The King quickly silenced him with his lips and tongue. The punishment he had feared for dining on the King’s beloved was not quite what he expected.
There was a small sputtering sound behind them as Johannes nearly choked on his tea, tilting his head incredulously. “J-Jonas??”
Tattooed arms wrapped possessively around the vampire, The King growling softly as he claimed his mouth. He could see Johannes out of the corner of his eye, finding his confused, slack-jawed expression quite endearing.
“Wait, I--” Henrik’s voice was strained, yet he didn't attempt to move away. The King's scent was even more intoxicating, raw power coursing through his veins like electrical currents. Kungen’s tawny mane felt like silky rope beneath his hands, his beard tickling his smooth throat.
“Do you want to fuck him, Henrik?” Kungen asked, smirking as he turned his head towards the tall man curled up daintily on the sofa.
Johannes coughed again, setting down his cup before he spilled hot tea everywhere. Despite his confusion, the sight of his King touching Henrik absolutely turned him on. His heart was hammering again, and that lascivious grin on Kungen’s face… He shivered.
“...W-what!?” Henrik squeaked. He thought of Johannes beneath him, moaning helplessly on the marble floor of the training dojo with his sweet blood on the vampire’s lips. Of course he'd wanted to tear off his pants and plunge into him right there.
“Do you want that, Johannes?” Kungen purred, stroking Henrik’s blonde curls and nipping teasingly at his jaw. Henrik snarled in frustration, wanting to tear the elegant robe from The King’s tanned shoulders and attack them both.
Johannes moaned softly, growing harder at the prospect of what was happening. He was barely aware of his hand, sliding down his lean, pale abdomen to stroke himself through the fabric of his pants. Kungen was working Henrik into a frenzy, whispering obscene and beautiful things in his ear while never tearing his gaze from his clown prince.
There was an icy rush of air as Henrik appeared beside Johannes suddenly, a different kind of hunger evident in his azure eyes. He bared his fangs, grabbing the man roughly and then they were on the bed, the vampire holding him down against the sheets.
With a quick yank, Henrik pulled the flowing black fabric down the taller man's legs. Johannes licked his lips, deciding their fight was not over just yet. He used his feet to shove the vampire off of him, pushing him back onto his elbows. He leapt at him, delivering a barrage of teeth and tongue down his muscular torso.
“I must admit, Jo...“ Henrik gasped, running his fingers through Johannes’ long, inky hair. The clown grinned up at him, hovering just between the sharp spurs of his hips. “I've wanted this… wanted you… For a while.”
“And here I thought I was just a juice box...” Johannes chuckled, making quick work of Henrik’s pants and tossing them aside without a care. He wasted no time, running his serpentine tongue up the length of the vampire’s generous arousal, his long fingers creeping along his toned thighs.
“Joha-- Ahh, fuck!” Henrik gasped, arching his back as that wicked tongue snaked around his shaft, Johannes’ warm mouth closing around him hungrily. He saw Kungen appear behind the clown, having shed his robe and standing in all his exquisitely inked glory. The King bent to kiss a pale shoulder, wrapping his arms around his lover’s lean torso. Henrik howled in ecstacy, bucking his hips upwards with both hands furling into Johannes’ hair as he fervently bobbed his head, taking the bassist deeper into his mouth.
“Amazing, isn't he?” Kungen whispered, smiling softly. Johannes groaned at his touch, lifting his hips imploringly to his King.
“Yes…” Henrik moaned. Johannes lifted his head with a dazed grin, much to the vampires’ chagrin as he turned towards Kungen. The King pulled his clown towards him roughly, tasting Henrik on his lips.
The Clown had broken the surface, a furious creature lying dormant within Johannes’ mind until the thrill of battle brought him to life, a swirling dervish of crimson fire and razor sharp blades. His dark passenger was fully awake now, laughing madly.
Henrik couldn't control himself much longer, caressing Johannes’ lean thighs and the enticing curve of his ass. The Clown smirked seductively from over his shoulder before turning back to his mighty King, teasingly tugging at a nipple ring with his teeth.
“Fucking hell…” Henrik hissed. He grabbed Johannes by the legs, yanking the clown hard against him. He groaned at the sensation of having him so close, that sweet scent of the blood in his veins driving him mad with need.
“Don't be so hasty, Henrik…” The King clucked his tongue disapprovingly. He gave Johannes a gentle kiss on the cheek before leaving the bed. “He's quite the delicate little flower.”
“Fuck off, my lord.” The clown snarled, grinning as he leaned back to playfully lick the sharp curve of the vampire’s jaw. Henrik’s grip on his thighs tightened considerably.
“Oh, in due time…” Kungen replied, returning with a small bottle of oil. Henrik quickly snatched it from his hand, much to The King’s amusement, nearly spilling the contents as Johannes continued to tease him relentlessly. Henrik simply grabbed him by the back of the neck and shoved his face down into the silky fabric.
“I hope you fuck like you fight, Henrik...” Johannes growled gleefully, his voice muffled.
Henrik worked the oil over his cock with his free hand. He gripped the clown’s hips again, the taller man trembling beneath him as he slid into him slowly, overcome by his tight warmth.
Johannes found Kungen’s hands with his, mewling in a mixture of pain and excitement, his Liege clasping his fingers tightly. The King had length, but Henrik had girth. He almost felt as if he was being torn apart.
“You're fucking beautiful…” Henrik snarled, pulling his hips back slowly before he slammed into him again. Johannes screamed, stars dancing in his vision and a wicked grin spreading across his lips.
“That's more like it!” Johannes moaned, wrapping his long arms around The King's tattooed thighs while Henrik began thrusting faster and harder.
Kungen caressed his black hair lovingly, damp with sweat and hanging over his slender face in inky tendrils. He had watched them fight together many times in his reign, enamored by their powers and their conviction. This unhinged, primal side to Henrik was not quite what he expected.
Henrik almost envied The King having Johannes to himself every night. He a certain innocence about him beneath the distinctive war paint, the normally booming voice of the Herald soft and subdued without his uniform to make him seen larger than life. Now he was begging, crying out Henrik’s name and cursing in five languages. The King silenced the man by shoving his head in his lap.
Johannes was lost in a wild kaleidoscope of beautiful sensations between the two men, Henrik fucking him mercilessly and the King clutching the back of his head as he impaled his mouth. This was one battle where he gladly admitted defeat.
“Save some for me, dear Henrik.” Kungen gasped, the clown’s tongue hard at work and already bringing him close to climax. He could see Henrik was close, his almost crushing grip on Johannes’ slender hips being the only thing holding him upright. He lifted Johannes’ head, enjoying the positively delirious expression on his love’s face.
Henrik curled his lip in a savage expression of triumph, wrapping his arm around the clown’s chest and pulling him against his as a powerful orgasm ripped through his body. Needing to taste him once more, Henrik bit him gently, rolling his hips and savoring his sweet taste as he came.
Henrik released him with a sigh. Johannes slumped to the sheets with a whinper, trembling and slick with sweat. He was so close himself, but then The King pounced.
Henrik barely had time to move aside, tilting his head back to avoid being whipped by tawny dreadlocks as Kungen leapt at Johannes, pinning his fiancé’s arms against the bed and kicking open his legs. The blonde vampire rested his chin in one hand, watching them with interest.
“Couldn't stay mad at me, could you..?” Johannes cooed in a daze, lifting his long legs around his handsome King. Kungen pulled his future König close, kissing him possessively.
“Don't test me.” Kungen snarled, then plunged into the taller man. Johannes’ head fell back, his arms looping around his sun bronzed shoulders, gripping the soft rope of his hair as if his life depended on it. Kungen reached between them, turning his lover's breathy pleas into hysterical cries of ecstasy.
Henrik grinned, noting how they fit together so perfectly, a stark contrast to one other. Johannes towered over the majority of their population, a perfect mixture of stealth and bloodlust as he wielded his deadly knives. Many Citizens feared him, but never the smaller, stoic and graceful King. Johannes was like clay in his strong hands.
“Gods…. Yes! Please, Jonas!” Johannes cried, only using The King’s true name in closed quarters.
Kungen grit his teeth, bucking his hips and piercing the man so deeply and with such fury that Henrik almost feared for his safety. Chest to chest against the clown, those sinewy legs tight around him, Kungen felt hot warmth erupt in his hand and then Johannes went slack in his arms.
The King pushed him flat on his back, continuing his onslaught before collapsing on top if him in a tangle of long limbs, damp hair and labored breath. His beard tickled the clown’s pale neck, who chuckled and swatted at him playfully. He was barely conscious.
“I love you…”
“Ditto.” Kungen whispered, letting him rest.
Kungen and Henrik chuckled amongst themselves as Johannes had fallen asleep before even reaching the pillows, looking quite serene while out cold on his stomach beneath the elaborately carved headboard.
“Your Majesty…” Henrik began as his King sidled up beside his mate. “Shall I go? I'm sure they could use my help in the armory with repairs...”
Kungen raised an eyebrow, feigning a look of one who was deeply offended. “The tank can wait for now. Get the hell over here.”
The vampire took his place beside the King opposite to where Johannes lay, a pale arm draped lazily over his tattooed chest. Kungen pulled him close, smelling pleasantly of musk, cannabis and a sweet cologne. He kissed the vampire tenderly before drifting into a thoughtful silence, blue eyes fixed above them at the domed skylight and the constellations beyond. Leo shone bright that evening.
“Soon, there will be no time for moments like these, no time for petty jealousy or material possessions. They're coming soon, and we will fight them together…”
Henrik nodded, feeling the lull of sleep gently dulling at his senses. He curled against the warmth of his King and the lovely enigma that was Johannes breathing deeply beside him, offering great comfort upon hearing such troubling words.
As The Enemy drew closer, they slept peacefully….
- - -
To be continued...