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Hard Time Waking Up

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Geralt was warm. Deliciously warm. There was an uncomfortable ache in his chest and his arm, and the odd, itchy feeling of partially healed wounds. Despite that, he was fairly comfortable.

Something soft moved under his hands.

There were warm bodies against him, plastered to his front and his back. He could hear their soft breathing. Could smell the floral scents surrounding him and the familiar scent of embers underlying everything else.

Darkness and power wrapped around him; a sensation that hid just barely on the edge of perception. The castle. He was in Dracula’s castle.

The soft body in front of him writhed closer, rubbing warm curves up against him in all the right places. Geralt bit off a groan as he arched a little into it.

Something wasn’t right here. Both Dracula and Alucard were made of firm muscle, a fact that Geralt much enjoyed. But the skin under his hand was far too soft. The curves were too pronounced and body yielding just too sweetly.

He wrinkled his brow in confusion and struggled to open his eyes. Exhaustion dragged at him. If he was hurt, that would make sense. His body would be using all of its reserves to heal.

The first thing he saw was rich brown silk. He blinked once, twice and realised he was staring at the top of a somebody’s head. Well. The dainty, curved horns arching out of those silky tresses seemed a dead giveaway about the owner not being human.

He blinked harder and realized his arms were around the female body at his front. Now that he was awake he could definitely feel ample, full breasts pressed against his chest and hard nipples rubbing against skin.

His nose tingled with just a hint of sulfur. Between the scent, the horns, and the amazingly voluptuous body squirming pleasantly against not only his chest but his naked cock too, he realized he was holding a succubus.

“Uh,” he stammered. The pleasant pressure against his cock was the woman’s thigh between his legs. At his back, he could feel another succubus. Her breasts were pressed to his skin and her body slotted so tightly against him that he could feel the light prickle of her pubic hair against his ass. It wasn’t even the worst thing, though. The fact he could smell how interested they were, how willing, was like a punch to the gut. His body tightened and reacted to the closeness, to the stimulation.

Now that his brain was finally mostly working again, Geralt could feel eyes upon him. He turned his head and tried to get a look at the room around him.

He was definitely in Dracula’s bed; at this point, the massive four post monstrosity was very familiar to him. His search didn’t last long because sitting in an impressively carved chair next to the bed was Dracula.

The vampire was sitting slouched down with his head rested on one hand and his legs sprawled out wide. He looked to be at perfect ease but Geralt could feel the seething rage that boiled inside of him. It made the castle around them churn against Geralt’s senses and lit up Dracula’s eyes like slow glowing embers. Dracula’s skin looked pale against his dark hair and shadows cast his cheekbones into sharp relief.

Geralt froze. Or tried to, anyways. With the succubi wriggling against him, it was extremely difficult to stay still. Or stop touching. Should he not be touching? He clamped his legs around the thigh between them, forcing the teasing touches to still briefly. It earned him a breathy giggle and what he was sure was a series of tiny kisses to his shoulder.

The whole situation was bizarre and worrisome.

“What…” He had to pause to clear his throat. “What’s going on?”

That only caused Dracula’s eyes to burn brighter for a moment. “Exactly what I was wondering.”

Small hands wrapped around his chest and slid ever so slowly down towards his belly. He let himself enjoy the touch for a moment before he realized it wasn’t stopping there. He fumbled to press his hand against those searching fingers and hold them flat to his skin. Problem was, there was already another hand on his hip, soft and scratching ever so gently with long nails as it inched towards his ass.

“Eaah!” Geralt flinched hard as the succubus behind him trailed her fingers lightly over his behind. That, in turn, made him flinch again but this time from pain. He was healing from broken ribs and he could still feel them. “Fuck. What…?”

He tried to remember what happened.

Closing his eyes, he thought back. Everything was fuzzy. Did he get a concussion? He didn’t feel particularly nauseous. Just sort of hurt and definitely turned on. The weight of Dracula’s gaze burned across him, as real as the demon women pressing into him.

“There was a ravine,” he said slowly, piecing things together out loud as he recalled them. “I was out with Eskel, hunting harpies.”

“Were you?” Dracula’s voice was low and just faintly dangerous. “All I know is that the Wolf Portal opened, but you didn’t come through. A long time later the guards brought in your unconscious and almost completely frozen body.”

Geralt shook his head. He didn’t remember anything about the wolf portal. “There were several nests we were out to kill. They’d gotten too large for us to wait for spring. There was a-HEY!” The succubus in front of him had just reached down to give his cock a nice stroke, her hand perfectly tight around him. Geralt had to scramble to keep her hands in a safer place.

All he got in return for his troubles was a giggle from her and a painful ache in one forearm. That was when he noticed he was sporting a bandage around it. He still had the use of his hand but there was a deep pain in his bones, like he’d broken something.

That was just...great…

He sighed, and winced as his ribs shifted. “Alucard was with us. As a wolf.” That he remembered fairly clearly. Eskel had spent the whole damn morning glaring daggers at him and asking some rather pointed questions.

There! A bit of memory flashed through his mind and he finally recalled what had happened.

“We were on a mountain side. The harpies triggered a rockfall onto us. I was down the ravine and into the river before I could even blink. I remember almost dragging myself out. Something snagged me, but I couldn’t untangle it. Couldn’t move out of the water. Got a knife in the shore to keep me from sliding back in.” He racked his brain for a moment, and then shook his head. He almost managed to ignore the soft lips exploring the back of his shoulder and the tongue flicking against his skin every so often. “That’s all I remember.”

He looked to Dracula, worry suddenly flooding through him. “Is Alucard alright? Is he here? Did he and Eskel get hit?”

“Alucard is not here,” Dracula answered, his thumb rubbing back and forth over the carefully trimmed facial hair. “If you were unconscious, I assume it was Alucard that called in the guards to take you here.”

The succubus in front of him got her lips on Geralt’s pecs and began slowly licking over the faint scars on his left side. The wet touch triggered a shiver from Geralt. He hissed and let go of the hands he was caging to catch her head and pull her away. Despite that, he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful she was. Chestnut brown hair fell in the silkiest, softest waves he’d ever seen on a woman. Her eyes were the deepest brown and her lips as red as sin. Her skin was darker, a rich bronze that made Geralt’s hands itch with the desire to touch. She wore makeup, he could see that, but it wasn’t much and only served to accentuate the amazing almond shape of her eyes.

“No licking,” he said roughly, voice still wrecked.

As much as his body was enjoying the attention that the succubi were lavishing on him, Geralt was uncomfortably aware that he wasn’t terribly interested in it continuing. Well. The sex part, sure. He was injured, but he wasn’t dead. The problem was that he didn’t particularly want them. Geralt wanted his lovers. If anyone was touching him, he wanted it to be Dracula. Or Alucard, but Alucard wasn’t there at all.

He looked over to Dracula for help but all he got was an amused smirk and eyes he couldn’t read. Obviously Dracula had ordered the succubi to lay with him; they wouldn’t be there otherwise. But Geralt couldn’t be sure why exactly Dracula had done that. Was it some kind of test? Or was he just being tortured out of spite?

Well. Couldn’t hurt to ask.

“Why---” The words cut off in a short huff as one of the succubi reached down to finger right over his hole. “No, no!” He scrambled to grab the hand at his ass and move it to a safer location but that only freed the hands in front of him to do more mischief. His arm ached a bit more. He ignored it.

“No touching below the waist!” he decreed in desperation.

This got him a little moue of protest from the succubus in front of him and even more kisses against his shoulder blades. The touch felt good and gently stroked the low burning fire in his belly, but he was still mostly confused as hell.

“Why?” Geralt asked, locking gazes with Dracula. He could still feel the simmering, powerful rage that had built up around them, but there seemed to be more than a hint of amusement there, too. At least that was one benefit of getting pawed over.

“Severe hypothermia,” Dracula answered matter of factly. “If you were completely human, you would be dead.” Geralt couldn’t see the reaction, but he felt it. The way the dark power churned, angry and unsettled. The way the castle went quiet. It all spoke of Dracula’s upset.

The memory of bone shattering cold slithered through Geralt and he shuddered.

“You needed warm bodies,” he said, putting the pieces together. It made sense. Putting Geralt in a warm bed would only help so much. He could have used the baths, but that might have been too warm, too much of a shock to Geralt’s system.

“They tend to run hot, so I had some come in and warm you up.”

Just then, the succubus in front of him shifted her leg, rubbing her thigh up and down the length of Geralt’s hard cock. It felt amazingly good and Geralt hoped it would stop immediately.

“Ah. Well. Mission accomplished,” he managed to choke out. He definitely was warm. Hot even.

As happy as he was to be alive, Geralt was a little disappointed that Dracula himself hadn’t laid down with him. Dracula was always incredibly warm to the touch; both Geralt and Alucard enjoyed it immensely.

A little frown tugged at Geralt’s lips.

“How long have I been unconscious?” he asked, as thoughts about going back to look for Eskel crowding his mind.

“A little over fourteen hours,” Dracula said, his thumb stopping its slow journey up and down his goatee.

Shit. Fourteen hours was long enough that either Eskel was fine and on his way to recovery or he was long dead. He had his potions and Alucard was with him, Geralt reminded himself.

Alucard had to be alive because otherwise Dracula would be off on a rampage.

The succubus in front of him started to roll her hips into him, getting that extra bit of friction on his now aching cock. He groaned and grabbed her hip in an attempt to stop the movement, to push her away, but she only grinned at him and trailed her hands down his chest.

The worst thing was that even though this felt good, Geralt had no idea what it meant. Why was Dracula so far away and why was he just sitting there, doing nothing? Was this a test? Was this some kind of game Geralt didn’t understand? He was shocked by how much he wanted Dracula to touch him right now. The pretty succubi felt good against him, their smooth skin and gentle hands were amazing, but he wanted somebody else.

“As much as I’m enjoying this…” He swallowed hard and did his best to ignore the heat in his groin. If his voice came out a little strained, he thought he could be excused. “I’d much rather it were you next to me.” Geralt looked over to Dracula and tried to keep himself accepting of whatever would happen next.

If this was some kind of game, Geralt would play. He wanted Dracula next to him but maybe Dracula didn’t want to be there. Maybe he only wanted to watch. Even then, Geralt would rather just get himself off while Dracula looked on. But maybe that’s what Dracula thought was going on anyways. He’d already said once that he looked at the succubi and incubi as just playthings.

Geralt waited, watching to see how Dracula would respond.

“Leave us,” Dracula ordered quietly.

Immediately the succubi started untangling themselves from his body. They were still giggling as they pulled themselves up. The dark haired one gave him a soft kiss on the cheek before sliding down the bed. Geralt watched her go, naked and golden, so unashamed of her body she all but glowed with it. Her long hair fell down her back, tendrils touching the round and pert ass. She stepped towards Dracula’s chair and slid down to her knees so graceful it made Geralt catch his breath. She reached for Dracula’s other hand, the one resting on the armrest, and she touched her lush lips to the back of it.

“My Prince.” Her voice was low, vibrant, and beautifully seductive.

The other succubus, a stunning blond with skin as pale as milk, joined her at Dracula’s chair. She kneeled with that same grace and as she settled down her perky breasts almost brushed Dracula’s knee. The sight of those two beautiful succubi kneeling beside a disaffected Dracula did strange things to Geralt’s stomach. His torso tightened up and heat in his groin coiled up sharply. He watched, his mouth dry and breath a little sharp, as the other succubus kissed Dracula’s hand.

“You did well,” Dracula allowed, his eyes never leaving Geralt’s.

“Thank you, My Lord,” they chorused softly as they got up and left the room. Each swaying step was punctuated by the soft jingle of the gold bracelets on their ankles.

It took a moment or two for Geralt to pry his eyes away from the retreating succubi. They really were an incredible view and he very much wished he could do something about the hot ache in his cock. He tilted his head to look at Dracula again, noting how clearly amused he was at the state Geralt was in.

Well. Two could play that game.

Geralt arched a little on the bed. The movement was just barely enough to set off the twinge of discomfort in his ribs. More importantly, he knew it properly displayed the ripple of hs muscles and the hard length of his cock. While he moved, he let himself drink in the look of Dracula in his chair. Powerful, serious, and completely lickable. The way his chest peaked out between the opening in his heavy red coat was positively sinful, and Geralt thought again about how much he wanted to kiss every inch of it.

In the past he’d never really been attracted to guys built as wide as Dracula, but there was just something about the broad expanse of his chest that made Geralt’s eyes stick there for long moments. The heavy build and the muscles of his belly showing up above the wide belt made Geralt’s hands itch.

The massive amount of sword work that Geralt did gave him a well developed upper body, especially his chest and arms. Dracula was built more like a brawler, though, and his middle was thick with heavy muscle, giving him a less angular appearance.

Geralt knew that women liked his own chest. They loved to touch it when he bedded them, to pet and lick as they played. While he was proud of that, he never quite got the appeal. Until he met Dracula. Now all he wanted was to put his mouth on that glorious body and lick and kiss for hours.

He shifted again on the bed and rolled a little into the soft sheets under him. Then he let his gaze wander back up to Dracula’s face. “Join me? Let me touch you?”

The suddenness of Dracula moving after so long of being absolutely still made Geralt start in place. In one smooth move Dracula was out of the chair and stepping towards the bed.

His clothes fading out around him as he walled. By the time Dracula’s knee hit the bed, he was naked. His black hair fell softly over his shoulders and his red, burning eyes never left Geralt’s. That attention was so sharp, so focused solely on Geralt, that it felt like a physical thing. A weight that made it hard to breathe. It always felt as if Dracula could see right through his very soul whenever he did that. Geralt both loved it and hated it for how vulnerable it made him feel. Like he was an open book, flayed apart for Dracula to see and judge at his leisure.

His lover reacted to Geralt’s feelings of vulnerability like a predator sensing blood. The dark intent was chokingly thick in the air as Dracula slowly lowered himself to the bed and started crawling towards him.

Maybe it was the way Geralt’s body still felt half beaten, still achy and healing. Maybe it was how dangerous and predatory Dracula looked right then and how much it reminded Geralt of being stalked during a hunt. Maybe it was just the sudden lack of hands on him, an absence that made his skin crawl with the need to be touched again. Whatever it was, Geralt suddenly shivered, and not in a good way.

He almost didn’t say anything. By and large, Geralt loved to please his lovers. Usually that meant taking them apart with his hands, his mouth, and his cock. But Dracula loved to be in control. He loved to tease and torment. It would have been easy just to let him do it. And it wasn’t like Geralt didn’t enjoy those things, too.

Another shiver slid up Geralt’s spine and he shook his head.

“Would you…” Heat burned at his cheeks, and he knew he must be blushing. The hell was wrong with him, being shy about asking for something in bed? “Would you be gentle with me?” Geralt let his words and his face stay neutral. Accepting. Whatever Dracula wanted, he would be alright with. Just being close would be enough. Geralt would take what he could get.

He could see the flicker in Dracula’s eyes; the moment something he couldn’t read passed through his lover’s mind. It made him shudder again. He felt…strangely exposed. His confidence was oddly missing as he stared at Dracula and waited for a reaction.

When Dracula was was close enough, he wrapped one hand around Geralt’s ankle and slowly pushed it aside to make space. Then he crawled up, shouldering between Geralt’s easily spreading knees. He paused there a moment, lowering his head so that his black hair fell over his eyes, and softly pressed his lips to the spot on the inside of Geralt’s thigh just above the knee.

Geralt shivered.

“Only you would look at me and think that was even a possibility.” The words were said directly against his skin and his hot breath tickled the tiny hairs there.

That just caused Geralt to tilt his head and narrow his eyes, mildly confused. “How could I not? I can see how careful you are, how measured your actions are. I see how much you love and care for Alucard. I just…don’t want you to be disappointed with me. With what I might want.” He shrugged. “I know you like being a bit rough, and I’m generally fine with that. I just need…” Geralt looked away, his cheeks burning. “I’ll be happy with what you want to do,” he said finally.

Dracula put his hands on Geralt’s knees and pushed them apart more, making more space for himself as Geralt yielded.

“It’s not pain that turns me on,” Dracula said, lips still against Geralt’s skin. He moved higher and pressed another dry kiss to the skin higher against the inside of Geralt’s thigh. “It’s the fact you let me push you to the edge of what you think you can take.”

Another kiss, high enough Geralt could feel the brush of hair against his cock.

“It’s the fact you give yourself to me that’s making me burn.” Dracula was speaking in a low voice; his voice was a husky growl that vibrated against the sensitive skin of Geralt’s thigh. Geralt could feel himself start to tremble for no reason whatsoever. “You are special.” Dracula crawled higher over Geralt’s body and his red eyes catching Geralt’s eyes again. “Cherished.” Now he braced his arms on either side of Geralt’s head, the thick muscles of his chest tight and bunching just inches from Geralt. “How could I not take care of you when you need it?”

Those words made Geralt shudder and his eyes flutter; he all but writhed against Dracula. His body felt like it was filled to bursting with love and want. That was exactly everything he’d ever craved. To be cared for. Not just in a physical sense, though touch was incredibly important to him. But to have someone actually care about him. Maybe the dynamics and actions they took in bed would vary, but the care and concern lit a fire deep inside of Geralt.

Dracula lowered himself to his elbow. One hand reached to Geralt’s face and pushed his hair out of the way.

“I want to be inside you,” he said softly, almost as if he was asking Geralt is this was something he wanted, too. His body was radiating heat against Geralt’s own, so close yet not touching. He just held himself up a bare inch above Geralt’s body.

“Yes, please.” That sounded wonderful. Fantastic. Geralt reached up and ran a hand across Dracula’s jaw and back around his neck, urging him closer. “I love it when you touch me.”

The kiss was slow, far slower than their usual pre-sex foreplay. Dracula held back at first. He let Geralt set the pace; waited for him to open up. Soon Geralt sucked in Dracula’s tongue, deepening that embrace and letting it be known that he wanted everything. Wanted his touch, his kisses, his closeness.

When Dracula finally let his weight rest against Geralt's body, it was like a living blanket spread over him. Hot and heavy, it pressed him into the bed and anchored him in the here and now.

The feeling of Dracula on top of him made Geralt arch up into that heat, which in turn made his ribs spike in pain. He flinched back and breathed for a moment, willing his bones to settle themselves so he could get back to the important matter of feeling every inch of his lover that he could.

Dracula’s hand was on his hip, pressing it down, taking away his ability to move against the heavier body. Geralt huffed into the kiss, against the tongue that licked into him so slowly.

“You are hurting still,” Dracula said. He pulled away from the kiss and dragged is lips against Geralt’s cheek instead.

“Pfft, ribs. They’ll be fine.” The words were breathy and Geralt ached to kiss Dracula again.

Dracula lipped over the line of Geralt’s jaw and nudged his head back, making him expose his neck.

The feeling of Dracula’s mouth at his throat was enough to make Geralt moan and shift against the hand at his hip. Pleasure throbbed through him and he bit his lip, waiting. He ran his fingers through Dracula’s soft hair and breathed in the scent of skin and power and fire.

“I can’t breathe my power into you when you are unconscious,” Dracula murmured in between licking long stripes against the tendons of Geralt’s neck. “I don’t want to do that now.” He lifted his head from Geralt’s neck and looked into his eyes again. “Not when we both know how harsh it is on you.”

Just thinking about it made Geralt shiver. Tasting Dracula’s power was a heady experience, both pleasurable and painful. But Dracula was right. It was a lot to handle even when he was feeling his best.

“We’ll have to be careful, then.” Geralt had to admit, if only to himself, that it might be more difficult than it seemed. He always pushed himself. That was one of the reasons he excelled at the witcher’s Path.

Dracula shifted to the side. One of his hands slid softly against Geralt’s side and down to his hip, catching him there again.

“I find you very exciting,” Dracula said softly, watching Geralt with lowered lids. “I like your legs, so long and shapely.” His hand slid from the hip to the thigh he kissed earlier. Just petting Geralt in long, slow strokes. Each pass of his hands felt like heaven and Geralt pressed himself into the movement.

He could feel Dracula getting slowly harder against his hip. Geralt fumbled his hand between them and flattened his palm against that heavy cock slowly filling with blood.

“I like watching the way your muscles move and tense when I push into you,” Dracula said as he leaned down again. His lips brushed against Geralt’s but didn’t kiss just yet. “It’s why I love doing it when you are already soft.” His fingers skimmed so close to Geral’s cock that he could feel the movement of air against his needy flesh. “Because then there’s nothing to distract you from the stretch, the way it feels when I push in, when I take you.”

Just listening to Dracula say those filthy words made Geralt remember the last time they did that. How well fucked he’d been and how perfect Dracula felt inside of him, still fucking him long after Geralt had come. He closed his eyes and pictured it in his mind, the hot, wet slide inside of him and the thickness of Dracula’s cock. A short, shuddering breath escaped him.

“And the sounds you make.” Dracula still wasn’t kissing him. He wasn’t doing anything but the slow, luxurious petting from ribs to knee that only served to send a riot of shivers down Geralt’s back. “When you think I’m as deep inside you as I can get and I push in even deeper. Your breath hitches every time, and you tighten up on me like a vice.”

Fuck, he wanted to feel that. Wanted to take Dracula in as far as he could go. His body pulsed with it; a slow clench and release that only served to grind himself up against Dracula’s wonderfully warm body.

“Touch me,” he said finally, frustrated by the gentle caresses that were everything he wanted and not nearly enough at the same time.

He could almost feel the smile against his lips as Dracula lowered that final inch.

“Where?” Dracula’s breath fanned out over his face. “Here?” he asked, pressing the softest, gentlest kiss against Geralt’s lips before withdrawing to that frustratingly minimal distance. “Here?” Dracula shifted his hand from Geralt’s thigh to his cock, wrapping it up tightly in his fist, and giving him a firm, long stroke. The calluses dragged against his sensitive skin and made Geralt moan. He couldn’t help but arch his hips up into that caress despite the twinge in his ribs.

“Fuck, yes. Kiss me. Put your hand on my cock, put your fingers inside of me. Get me ready for you. I love your tongue, your fingers. Love how your cock feels inside of me. Fuck, so big and hot,” Geralt babbled. “I love your mouth on me, on my lips, on my throat.”

Dracula hummed again, a low and pleased kind of sound. When he spoke Geralt could feel his lips moving against his; he could feel the prickle of his goatee against his lips. “I love your hole.” Dracula let go of Geralt’s cock and slid his hand between Geralt’s legs. His fingers found the furled muscle and pressed there. “I love how it stretches, how it clings to me.” He rubbed there, not even trying to press inside. Just rubbed in slow, tight circles that made Geralt be extremely aware of that part of him. “I love it even more when it’s all loose and swollen, sloppy from oil and my come.”

“Such a fucking tease,” Geralt growled. “Even when you’re being soft, you make me want to scream. Fuck.” He tried to roll his hips up against the fingers on him but Dracula pressed him down, limiting his movement.

Dracula laughed. The sound was soft against his lips, easy and so fond it made Geralt’s eyes sting.

“Would you like to ride me?” Dracula offered curiously.

“Oh yes.” That sounded like a fabulous idea. It wasn’t something Geralt did very frequently but in this case he couldn’t wait. He’d get to set the pace, get to torture Dracula just as much as Dracula was teasing him. Not only that, but he’d get a chance to treat his lover to all the care and love that Geralt had received.

Geralt could tell Dracula tried to be gentle as he rolled them over. They ended with Geralt stretched over Dracula’s body; he pulled his knees under himself and straightened his perch over Dracula’s hips. He could feel his lover’s cock, hard and firm against his backside; a sensation that made him reflexively lick his lips. His hands ended up on that thick chest. All those hard, warm muscles flexed under his palms.

“You can take as much time as you want,” Dracula said gently. His hands were on Geralt’s thighs again and he stroked long lines, up and down, from his hips to his knees. “I’m willing to lay here and wait to see how you take my cock and put it into your tight, little hole.”

Geralt shuddered, though if it was from the rumble of Dracula’s voice, the heat of the lust curling in his belly, or just the words, he didn't know. His own dick twitched where it lay against Dracula’s hard belly and drooled a little precome onto the skin there.

“You could help out a little, you know.” Geralt leaned down. He was mesmerised by how much he wanted to just sink his teeth into those powerful chest muscles. “I would love to feel your slick fingers inside me.”

It was the truth. He wanted to feel more of Dracula’s touch, especially when he could see his lover. He tightened his knees against Dracula’s sides, enjoying the firmness of the flesh under him. He thought of those dangerous hands on him all the time. Of the way it felt when Dracula pushed him down and pushed into him, confident of his welcome like it was his right.

Geralt’s ribs protested when he bent down, but he ignored it. He shifted until he could press his lips to that wonderful stretch of muscle he’d been eyeing. There, he laid little kisses, wet and slick, and laved his tongue around the skin before gently biting down. His hands wandered the thick expanse of Dracula’s upper body and traced every dip and curve of the well defined muscles there.

He loved it. Loved the smooth, unscared skin. The heaviness of the muscles. He adored the way it sent little shocks of heat down his belly and how it tightened his cock that little bit more.

Geralt moaned softly in pleasure as his lips found a dark nipple. He sucked there, hungry for the feel of it in his mouth. The quiet sigh it earned him was even better; a reward that lit a fire in his own chest. The body under him trembled ever so slightly and pushed up into his hands with gratifying willingness.

Dracula reached off to the side for a moment and Geralt knew without looking that he had summoned some oil to dip his fingers in. Then that wet hand trailed up Geralt’s thigh, under his balls, and back over his hole. Again, he teased, just circling there for a bit, waking little shudders in Geralt.

When he finally slid one finger in, Geralt was ready to scream with it. There wasn’t even a hint of burn and barely any stretch. It just felt good. Natural. He knew he couldn’t grind back as much as he wanted to, though, not and keep his mending ribs from hurting like crazy. The best he could do was just rock in place a bit. The movement didn’t help at all with the depth and thrust of that finger but it did give his cock some much desired friction.

He paused in his licking and sucking to whisper, “More. Stick another finger in me. I wanna feel you rub up inside of me. Touch me just right.”

Dracula hummed and Geralt could feel the vibrations through his lips.

When a second finger joined the first, Geralt shivered hard. Heat burned across his face and the deeper those fingers went, the hotter he burned. Now there was a bit of stretch; Dracula’s fingers were thick and the rough edge of his calluses caught on Geralt’s sensitive rim.

“You have to be the one to put my cock inside you,” Dracula rumbled as he fingered Geralt with slow, careful thrusts. Each move destroyed any resistance Geralt might have had. He could feel himself stretch, could feel his hole becoming looser around those fingers. Sloppier. “I want your hands around it, you pushing down to take me in.” There was heat in Dracula’s voice, unquenchable desire that threatened to burn Geralt alive.

Geralt nodded quickly. Fuck, he could picture it in his head. How thick and hot that cock would be in his hands and how he’d have to sink down, using his whole weight to get it inside of him.

It was that thought that decided him. He was prepped enough. Now he wanted to feel that cock inside of him, wanted the little bit of burn that would come from it stretching him out.

He straightened up again, masking how much the move hurt as his ribs protested loudly. They would just need to be careful and everything would be all right. His cock was hard and aching. Dracula, the evil creature, was brushing careful, gentle strokes against it. The touches gave no relief; they merely served to drive the heat in Geralt higher.

Geralt raised himself higher on the strength of his thigh muscles alone. That at least didn’t aggravate his ribs. Then he shifted until he could wrap his hands around Dracula’s cock. A little gasp escaped him at the feel of it in his hands. It was thick and already wet at the tip and it felt like iron wrapped in the softest silk. Helpless to the lust all but choking him, Geralt gave it a few strokes just to enjoy the hard length. The thickness of it in his hands and the way Dracula’s breath stuttered at the touch.

As he pressed the head against his slicked hole, Dracula’s fingers retreated. It felt huge against him. So thick and hard, flared in a way that felt as if it would be impossible to push into his body. Geralt licked his lips and bore down.

Nothing happened at first. There was just pressure and wetness from the oil. Just to help things along, Geralt reached down with one hand to help spread himself open, trying to stretch his hole enough to let that fat cock slid in. It was difficult with how much his forearm hurt, but he pushed aside the pain and just focused on the soft nudging of Dracula’s cock against him.

It seemed to take ages for his hole to give under the pressure and to stretch over that cock. It went slow, so slow. Geralt felt as if it was pushing the breath right out of him. As if all he could feel was just that cock making its way inside him. His face burned with the blush that feeling caused and his eyes went half lidded. Without even meaning to his back arched a bit, causing his chest to ache even more. Whatever pain there was from his ribs, he ignored. The pleasure was more important.

When his ass finally rested flat on Dracula’s body and that cock was seated as deeply as it could be, Geralt just stayed there, panting and shivering. His palms were braced on that wonderfully thick chest and his hole ached around the thick stretch. His cock lay twitching at the steady pressure against his prostate.

“Gods,” he said shakily, so harshly aware of the cock inside him he didn’t know how to deal with it.

“Yes,” Dracula hissed. His hands were tight against Geralt’s hips, but still. He wasn’t trying to move them at all, nor even direct the movement. Dracula just held them, bracing Geralt and anchoring him in place. The knowledge that Dracula was giving this to him, the power to control the tempo and depth, only made Geralt hotter. A million fantasies unfolded in his mind.

Geralt lifted up, and the way back up felt as excruciating as the way down. The drag of Dracula’s cock inside him stole what little breath he had away and replaced it with the sense of fullness. There was nothing but the cock inside him. The feel of it was so unavoidable that Geralt could barely think of anything else. There was only the sensation of cock leaving him and the way that thick head pressed past the resistance of his muscles. He huffed with effort, grateful for the hands on his hips taking some of his weight.

He was sweating hard and his heart beat triple time as he strained to fuck himself on his lover. With every stroke he made sure to go as high as possible, right until the head was tugging at his rim, before sinking all the way down.

Gods, but it felt good. He loved it. The slow stretch and drag. The hotness of Dracula still under his hands and that powerful chest flexing every time Geralt moved. He could feel it; the way the muscles worked under that smooth, scarless skin, and the way it heated up as they moved, slick and firm. The scent of sweat and sex was thick in the air and heat radiated up between them, stinging his nose and making him pant.

He was so hard already. His cock was drooling precome steadily against Dracula’s belly, messing him up, marking him with Geralt’s scent.

Geralt felt dizzy and far too hot. It took him a moment to realize it wasn’t just how good it felt, but that his lungs were seizing.

He paused, sinking down onto Dracula’s body. His heart pounded and his breath was hollow. He braced one of his palms flat on Dracula’s chest but the other he had to curl inwards, letting it lay limp on the hard stomach under him. The break in his arm hurt too badly and his fingers were spasming as little shocks of agony lit through him. Even the effort of lifting his head was too much; he let it hang low as he tried to just breathe through the pain that he suppressed for too long. Dracula’s hands ran over his back, soothing him up and down.

“You are in pain still,” Dracula said gently. He wrapped his hand around the back of Geralt’s neck and pulled down.

Geralt went with it, even when it flared another spark of pain in his ribs. That movement also made him gasp at the push and pull of Dracula’s cock inside him. He opened his mouth to meet Dracula’s, already knowing what would happen next.

The burn of the power being breathed into him was as painful as it was familiar. The sheer burning rage of it was a punch to the gut, and the boundless desire and bitter spite poured like lava down his throat. His body exploded into sensation as fiery pins and needles chased away the pain. His skin tingled and desire, pure want, pushed any and all coherent thoughts out of his head, turning Geralt into a lightning rod of lust.

He kissed Dracula like a dying man searching for salvation, licking into that hot mouth and moaning, body clenching. The cock inside him, the stretch and heaviness of it, the smell of sex and power in the air, and the taste of Dracula on his lips were all too much. He couldn’t stand it. His whole body clenched up so hard that it hurt, locking tight around that presence inside him as he came. Pleasure rolled through him as he spurt come all over them both, again and again.

When he finally started to notice the world around him again, Geralt realized that Dracula was holding him upright. His hard cock was still hot and pulsing, buried deeply in Geralt’s ass. Soft little kisses peppered Geralt’s jaw and his throat as he gasped and squirmed. It was too much. He was still so sensitive from the power that raced through him that every little touch was magnified against his skin.

Geralt’s softened cock was trapped snuggly between them, still warm and wet from his release, and his body tingled from the power buzzing just under his skin. Just the thought of Dracula’s stomach being painted with his come made him moan and twist in place. That only served to rub that wetness into them both. The squirming only teased him more as the cock inside of him rubbed deliciously against his already sensitive nerves. Fuck, it was thick. He felt so full, so well stretched and well loved.

“You are so pretty like this,” Dracula rumbled against his skin. “Soft and flushed, all hazy with pleasure.” His hands were on Geralt’s sweaty back now, dragging over his tingling skin and sending a cascade of shivers down his back.

Geralt burned from the praise. He squirmed in place again, relishing the feel of Dracula’s body in him, around him, covering every vulnerable part. The heat between them was almost a living thing and it throbbed through him. The scent of sex and burning embers filled the air. Geralt breathed it in, letting it fill him up as he ran a hand through Dracula’s lovely hair, carefully scraping at the scalp. It was such a pleasure to feel how the soft strands moved against his fingers. He tilted his head back and guided Dracula to his throat, eager to feel that mouth on him again.

“Taste me,” he begged, his voice wrecked. Under the burn of Dracula’s power, he could no longer feel any pain. His bones didn’t protest the movement, nor did the arm he was now using to brace himself. “Bite me.”

“Such a brave wolf,” Dracula murmured. One of his hands slid into Geralt’s hair and fisted there slowly, taking some of the strain off of Geralt’s neck. “To say things like that to me when you are already stretched so nicely on my cock, shivering with every breath.”

Geralt moaned softly, almost whining with want. He let the tension go out of his neck and allowed Dracula move his head as he wanted. “You feel so good. All of you.” He rolled his hips, grinding himself down onto the thick cock inside of him. His own cock was still soft but just feeling Dracula inside of him, his mouth, his teeth at Geralt’s neck, was enough to set that fire burning inside of him again and make him twitch with anticipation.

Dracula pulled Geralt’s head up gently, moving him just enough to expose his neck. Enough for Dracula to fit his lips against Geralt’s adam’s apple and suck there.

“So eager to have me inside you? My cock, my fangs.”

“Always,” Geralt said happily. “Always. Fuck, it’s so hard to leave the castle. To go hunting, to do anything, because I always just want to be here, fucking you. Fucking you both.” A heavy shudder ran through him. “I think about you both, all the time.”

“I share that sentiment, little dangerous wolf of mine,” Dracula’s voice was low and rough. His lips parted and he dragged his fangs over Geralt’s burning hot skin. “I want to have you, own you anyway I can.”

Then those fangs sank in, slow and careful. The pain was insignificant, really, when the teeth broke the skin and flesh. Nothing compared to the pleasure of Dracula sucking, pulling up the blood, and drinking. Geralt felt dizzy with how good it was. The long, slow pulls felt as intense as if Dracula was sucking at his cock not his neck. He rocked into each swallow, slowly fucking himself on the thick cock inside of him, trying to get closer with every movement. There was barely any space between them so each thrust was shallow. But even that was enough to send pleasure spirally up his body and made him clench down hard just to revel in how full he was.

When he felt a hand wrap itself around his soft, spent cock he whined. For a moment it was too much; he was too over sensitive to stand it. He tried to flinch away, but it was no use. Between the hand in his hair, the cock in his ass, and the way they were seated, he couldn't move away if he wanted to.

Dracula sucked, slow, tiny sips that felt like Geralt’s soul was being pulled out right along his blood. The pleasure was so intense that his eyes rolled back into his head. All the while the hand on his cock moved in tandem with those sucks; slow, little squeezes that sent shocks of too intense pleasure raging through his body. He moaned with every one of them, helplessly clenching down on the cock inside him and struggling to move, to do anything to ease the building tension.

“Please, oh yes, please,” he babbled softly, his voice breathy and high. He couldn’t even tell if he had his eyes open or not. All of his focus was on where their bodies touched. Pleasure built up inside of him like a storm cloud. He was so full with it that it felt like he might fly apart at any second. His cock was flush and hard again in Dracula’s hand, but still oh so sensitive. Every drag of those callused fingers on his soft skin made him twitch and groan. “Please.”

Dracula pulled his fangs out, licking and sucking around the tiny wounds he made and growling like a pleased beast. Just as Geralt was taking a breath, Dracula tightened his grip on Geralt’s cock and stroked harder. The pleasure from it whited out Geralt’s mind as his body clenched up again, and a ragged moan escaped him at the multitude of sensations.

“Such a good wolf,” Dracula mouthed against his neck. “So good for me, taking me in so prettily.”

Words fled Geralt and all he could do was moan again in agreement. Everything felt so good, so mind blowingly pleasurable, it was all he could think about. Perhaps he was still begging, but he couldn’t be sure. The hand on his cock kept working at him, stroking him just right, and he felt himself try to move into it.

“Go ahead, my brave wolf. Move like I know you want to. Fuck yourself on me.”

When the hand on his hair withdrew, Geralt again had leverage to move. He braced his hands on that amazing chest he could never get enough of, and lowered his head. Little strands of hair stuck to his sweaty skin but he ignored it; all of his focus was on where they were connected. He raised himself up slowly, relishing the drag of the cock inside him. As he moved, he had to groan at the tight pressure of Dracula’s hand on his cock and the way he could feel every little hint of roughness on that unbelievably sensitive skin.

His cock was already wet and precome slicked Dracula’s grip, making it sweeter, wetter. Geralt was sweating with the effort and the heat caught between them. Every time he pushed himself up, letting Dracula’s hard length slide out of him, the hand on his cock tightened and slid down; almost like he was fucking into it. As good as it felt, Geralt wanted to savor it. Wanted to feel this loved for as long as possible. He kept his pace slow, dragging it out for both of them, relishing the feel of that thick, hot cock moving deep inside of him, pressing him open over and over again.

“You look so lovely like this.” Dracula sounded breathy, the desire in his voice was a liquid fire that scorched Geralt to the core. There was tension building up in Dracula’s body. He could feel it where they touched. The way his hips hitched up every so often and pushed that heavy dick in deeper. It was mind meltingly hot and it made Geralt almost dizzy when he realized that Dracula’s control was frying.

“Wanna come on you. Your hand, your cock,” Geralt whispered. He felt like he could barely speak, like he’d been screaming for hours, his voice felt so rough. Each little ripple of tension from Dracula only made him burn hotter. Knowing that Dracula wanted him and was just a mad with lust as Geralt was made him want to drag it out more. He wanted to make Dracula come groaning and shuddering under him. Geralt started to twist his hips as he rocked down and added in that extra pull and rub against just the right places. “I want to feel you fill me up. Come in me. Fuck, it feels so good. I wanna feel your come drip out of me.”

Dracula growled, a loud sound that vibrated right through Geralt. In the next moment there was a hand in his hair and the whole world went sideways as he was rolled onto his back. Dracula’s other hand went under Geralt’s knee, pulling it up and opening Geralt up wider.

The move made Geralt gasp right into the lips slotting over him; they swallowed up any sound he could make. Dracula fucked him with his tongue, with his cock, grinding deep and hard. It pushed the breath right out of him, almost as if the very air was replaced with the feeling of more tongue and cock inside of him. They were fitted so closely together that Geralt’s dick slid against that powerful stomach, rubbing right against all those muscles. Each stroke hit all the right places. Dracula’s cock pressed right up against Geralt’s prostate, sending liquid heat up his spine and pushing all rational thought away.

He could feel it, how Dracula got harder inside him. How that cock got bigger and twitched as he ground into Geralt as hard as he could. A shudder worked its way through the kiss they were still sharing, and Geralt could feel the way the hard body over him tensed and then shattered apart as Dracula came. He whined and clenched down on the cock pulsing inside him, feeling the come fill him.

Gods, but it was good. He writhed against the sensation. The heat and wetness of it. The way Dracula held him so close that it hurt, pushing everything he could into Geralt. He loved it, loved Dracula shuddering and grinding into him as aftershocks racked through him, loved the rare chance to see Dracula come first. Geralt clung to his lover and his hands scrambled desperately to pull him closer and tangle them tighter, deeper.

“Fuck, yes, yes,” Geralt groaned into Dracula’s ear. “So good. Perfect inside of me. Fuck, yes, mark me up.”

Dracula wasn’t like any man Geralt knew; instead of slumping in exhaustion, he seemed to hit another wave of energy after Geralt’s words. He surged up again and his hips plowed into Geralt hard enough to jarr him up off the bed. His cock was still hard and jerking as Dracula fucked him with renewed vigor, hard and deep, forcing tiny gasps out of Geralt with each powerful thrust. The kiss broke and Dracula started biting him, uncaring of the fangs that sometimes cut into Geralt’s skin. Over his jaw, over his neck, leaving stinging, burning marks everywhere and growling unintelligible words at him.

It was all too much, too much sensation. The hard pounding against his prostate, the marks stinging all over his skin, and the sound of Dracula’s ragged breathing. The scent of come and the sound of it squelching with every thrust. Everything was just too much. Geralt arched and his body locked up as his own orgasm hit. Pleasure washed away all sound, all sight, and left him just a raw nerve burning through the mind blowing pleasure.

Geralt had no idea how long they lay there, sweaty and tangled, just coming down from the heat of the moment. When Dracula’s softening cock slipped out of him, a rush of fluids followed it, forcing a shiver to race up his spine. Heat flowed over him as his skin pricked with a renewed blush of pleasure. He loved how Dracula messed him up every time they had sex and loved that he would be feeling it for hours. Then he became aware of the slow, gentle licks against the marching line of bites decorating his neck and jaw. That warm tongue left behind cool trails, soothing away the sting.

His chest heaved as he panted, still hot and sweating from the hard fucking he just took. With one exhausted arm, he gently ran his fingers through Dracula’s hair and relished the feel of those smooth tresses under his palm. Even though he felt completely wrung out, he was deeply happy, too.

“You are heavy,” Geralt said, not even sure he was complaining. Breathing was becoming a problem though.

With a gentle laugh, Dracula shifted his grip on Geralt and rolled them over onto their sides. Their legs were still tangled together and the change in position only meant Geralt became more aware of the ache in his hole. The sensation made him squirm a little and sigh with pleasure He moved one leg up onto Dracula’s hip just to let the cool air touch his hot, sore skin. He was wet, so wet, and come and oil dripped out of him.

Geralt shifted an arm so his head was comfortably nestled into Dracula’s shoulder with his nose touching right under Dracula’s jaw. The scent of his lover was wonderful and strong; it was power and burning embers and blood mixed with sex and sweat. Geralt breathed in deep and lightly kissed the pulse there.

“You make me very happy,” he said quietly. The pleasant buzz of relaxation flowed over him and he ached in the best way. It was hard to think about anything other than how good he felt or how wonderful Dracula was. “Thank you.”

Dracula reached to push Geralt’s sweaty hair away from his face, his hand gentle against Geralt’s skin.

“I don’t remember anybody ever saying that to me.” Dracula sounded mellow, relaxed in a way that only happened after sex. All of that careful control abandoned for a short time.

“Mmmm. Odd. I’ve been happier with you and Alucard than I have been…” Geralt sighed, trying to think. He shook his head a little. “Than I have been any other time, I think.”

Dracula pulled him in and kissed him so softly, so gently that the touch was barely more than a breath against his lips.

“I’m very glad you stumbled into my castle.” The words were as soft as the kiss before them.

Pleasure inside of Geralt buoyed up and he growled happily, smiling into Dracula’s lips. He looked into those beautiful red eyes and whispered back, “Me too. I’m so lucky to have met you.” He hoped Dracula could see how much he meant those words.

He shivered gently at the way Dracula’s hands roamed over his sides and down his back, inching closer to his hips. When he felt searching fingers slide between the cheeks of his ass he held his breath. The first gentle touch rubbed against his sore, swollen hole; it was both too much and not enough. The sensation verged somewhere between pleasurable and painful but didn’t quite register as either.

“Why the succubi?” he asked. The thought just dropped into his head and onto his tongue without any input from his rational mind.

Dracula smiled, a slow, wicked stretch of lips, and pushed two of his fingers inside Geralt’s soaked hole. Geralt gasped. It was reflex to try and tighten against those invading digits but he was so well stretched. Dracula wasn’t fingering him though. He wasn't doing anything but keeping his fingers there, deep inside.

“I thought you would like something pretty to wake up to.”

A blush, hot and fierce, spread across Geralt’s face and he rested his forehead against Dracula’s jaw. The fingers inside of him felt so nice, so perfect, just resting there. Like it was where they belonged. He shivered again.

“They were lovely,” Geralt admitted, voice gone breathy. “But I like you more. You are so beautiful to me.”

A happy grumble vibrated against his chest and Dracula left a feather light kiss on the crown of his head.

“And if I liked seeing you like that?” Dracula asked. Geralt could hear the smirk in his voice and the fingers inside of him slowly began circling his rim. Just playing with him because he could. “You looked so sweet, squirming there in between them.”

Geralt hummed to himself and rolled his hips a little onto Dracula’s fingers. It was an absent kind of pleasure; a nice counterpoint to the sedate warmth that filled his body.

“I’m not opposed, but I’d have a hard time treating them like you do. I like pleasing my partners.” He paused a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Would you want to watch me please someone else? Sit and enjoy as I licked and sucked one of those pretty little demons, making her come into my mouth, then watch as I make her come again on my cock?”

He could feel Dracula thinking it over, picturing it in his mind. All the while, those gentle fingers inside of him circled his sore, slippery hole. It was as soothing as it was pleasurable.

“I liked seeing you flustered, but I don’t want to share your affection. You belong to me.” Those last few words were said in a deep, satisfied growl and Geralt couldn’t help but quiver just the tiniest bit. The feel of Dracula’s power rolled over him and prickled at his skin. It lit up that dark place inside of him, the place where a chunk of Dracula’s soul lay embedded, traded for a piece of Geralt’s.

“The succubi are beautiful. I’d have a hard time not watching them if they were in a room with me. That’s enough of a tease to get me interested.” It was true. Geralt did always enjoy looking at lovely people. “I liked you watching me. If you wanted more of that, I’d be happy to show you how I like to touch myself. Show both you and Alucard. Or have Alucard join me. We could both put on show for you.”

Dracula tilted his head down for another soft kiss. This time it lingered, wet and sweet, making Geralt’s eyes flutter shut as he all but melted into Dracula’s embrace.

“I want to see that,” Dracula said, and Geralt could tell he was already thinking up a dozen different ways to make it happen.

The idea was captivating. Would Alucard like to watch, too? After what he asked for that first time in the throne room, Geralt suspected he did. Would he sit happily with Dracula, watching Geralt tease himself into coming. And it would be a tease. Geralt would pull out every trick he had to try and tempt Dracula into losing his control and fucking him into the floor. Would Alucard pleasure Dracula while they watched? Maybe sit on his knees and use his pretty mouth on that thick cock while Dracula enjoyed the view?

Maybe Alucard would enjoy being put on display. That might be trickier; he was far more reserved than either Geralt or Dracula. Oh, but coaxing him into showing off for Dracula could be a great deal of fun.

“My brave wolf, you’re thinking on what you’re going to do, aren’t you?” Dracula’s voice was low and amused, and Geralt suddenly realized he’d been absently rocking on the fingers inside of him. Not much. Just a tiny, little comforting movement. Enough to really feel them, hot and firm inside of him. His face burned a little at being caught out but he smirked as well. He knew Dracula didn’t mind.

“Yes,” he admitted easily. After another moment of consideration, he added, “Putting on a show would be fun, but I’m not sure I could stand the reverse. I think being forced to watch you two but unable to touch anything would be torture. I could do it for a time, but it would be difficult and afterwards I’d need this. Your hands on me, both of you, holding me together.” Geralt ducked his head down a little farther, hiding a bit. Sex was easy to talk about but exposing his weaknesses was much, much harder. Even to Dracula, whom he wanted to tell. “I need touch. If it’s been too long, it feels like my skin is crawling. I can tolerate it, and I have in the past many times. It’s not a big deal. But…”

“You crave it,” Dracula whispered in his ear. He brought his free hand up to Geralt’s neck, cradling the base of the skull. Urging Geralt’s body closer. That tight grip, the way their bodies molded together, caused a pleasurable shudder to roll down Geralt’s spine.

“Yes.” It felt like a huge admission, but really it was probably just stating the obvious. Geralt was usually quite aggressive expressing his wants and he knew he’d been very clear that he liked to be touched. But it was one thing to say that he liked it and another to say that he needed it. Laying there in Dracula’s arms, sated and warm, it felt like the right time.

Dracula let out a quick breath and let the hand at his neck roam down his back, stroking him like a cat. “I still can’t believe you would tell me this. That you offer yourself so freely.”

That brought a smile to Geralt’s face. He rubbed his lips across Dracula’s hot skin. “You were careful with me when I needed it. I trust you.”

There was a low, rumbling growl. Then Geralt was on his back again with Dracula covering nearly every inch of him. One hand was in his hair and the other gripped his hip, spreading a trail of come and oil across his skin. Dark hair covered his face and he could feel Dracula’s teeth at his neck. Not biting, not yet. Just resting there against his skin as Dracula breathed hard through his mouth. They were pressed together but at least some of Dracula’s weight was supported on his arms because Geralt didn’t feel crushed under him. Just warm and covered.

The hand at his hip stroked him up and down. Geralt pressed into it with a happy sigh. Careful little bites sprinkled across his neck, not even firm enough to break skin, and Dracula practically hummed with satisfaction.

Despite the healing, Geralt was worn out; he was sore and exhausted from the sex and the power that was forced into him. Everywhere Dracula touched left a path of tingling pleasure and he seemed content just to lavish it on. It felt so good, so safe and warm, that Geralt drifted for a while. It wasn’t quite sleep and not quite his normal meditation, but he felt like his body was resting.

Eventually, Dracula nudged at his jaw and kissed him back into awareness.

“If Alucard sent you here and didn’t return himself, that means there was something left for him there to handle.”

That statement roused Geralt more than the kisses.

“Eskel,” Geralt said, suddenly worried again.

Dracula hummed at him and left another soft kiss on his lips. “Find out what kept Alucard. And kill every single beast that dared try to harm you.” Those last words were said with such menace that his eyes burned, deep fiery red. The smell of burning power filled the room and Geralt could feel the darkness around him shift, reacting to Dracula’s anger.

That actually gave him a good idea. A slow, wicked smile curved onto his face.

“Yes,” he answered darkly. “I have just the thing for it, too. I just need to stop by the garden on my way out.”

Dracula’s answering smile was just as wicked and much more cruel.

“Good.”

 

The End