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It’s not about the journey but the destination. Or maybe it’s not about the destination or the journey. Or life is just a journey or a series of destinations? Guillermo shakes his head out of his wandering thoughts. Somehow this journey with Nandor, their little trip around the world, has landed the pair in a motel in Orlando, Florida called “The Flamingo Inn”. Surprisingly, there are few flamingo themed decorations (much to Nandor’s extreme disappointment) and the entire space is outfitted in earthy shades of blue and green. It actually feels clean (much to Guillermo’s relief), and after he checks them both in, he immediately collapses onto the bed while Nandor goes to shower.
Of all the places in existence, Guillermo never imagined he would actually make it to Disneyworld, but Nandor was fascinated by the idea of a cartoon mouse being the “leader of millions” – even after Guillermo explained that Mickey is just a commonly used representation of the whole conglomerate.
“But he’s on their currency!” Nandor had exclaimed as they entered the park earlier that evening. A souvenir shop had a selection of gold and silver bars on display in the front window etched with the mouse’s face and Nandor would not be swayed otherwise. “He’s a powerful mouse, much like you!” Nandor grinned down at Guillermo who nearly pinched himself. Not about the journey, indeed.
It had been a long, very strange journey, Guillermo knew that much. He had escaped from Laszlo’s coffin upon reaching port in England, had Nadja hypnotize everyone they encountered from the shipyard to the Heathrow airport, had her seduce the ticket counter woman into upgrading them to free, first-class seats (although Nadja didn’t need to be asked to pull this off, she was already licking her lips as they approached the unsuspecting employee), and, after dropping Nadja back off at the vampire home to scream at Laszlo, Guillermo was practically bolting to meet Nandor. He found him in Jersey City sulking; he barely made a dent into their trip, and his constant crying about his heartache was causing trouble at a local vampire bar.
After Guillermo showed up at the bar, the situation grew exponentially worse; he was feared as word of the brutal slayer had been spreading in whispers throughout the vampire community. The ‘man of the cross’, a sweet smelling, sweater clad young human who wouldn’t hesitate to destroy entire swaths of vampires in the blink of an eye. Nandor tried to convince the hissing vampires that had the pair backed into a corner that there was no way Guillermo would ever slaughter them, but a vampire got too close for Guillermo’s comfort and the two found themselves tag-teaming their way through a vicious skirmish (that resulted in lots and lots of slaughtering) before high-tailing it to the nearest train station and resuming their journey.
The ticket taker barely gave the panting, bloodied pair a second glance. As the ticket taker moved on to the next passengers, Nandor leaned over, face still streaked with vampire blood, and kissed Guillermo soundly before passing out on his shoulder. A long, strange fucking journey, indeed.
The train ride had taken a couple of days, but they both managed to get a shower in one of the sleeper cars and get some food (Guillermo from visiting the dining car and loading up on snacks, Nandor from a pair of backpacking college students), and now Guillermo found himself relaxing into the mattress of the Flamingo/But Not Really motel. Nandor immediately wanted a steaming hot shower and had dumped his bag unceremoniously onto the floor. Guillermo, ever dutiful, had carefully moved the bag and pulled out Nandor’s nightclothes, which were placed on the bed.
Wait…the bed. Singular bed. Guillermo’s travel and battle weary brain was sparking back to life with a groan; he’d barely even registered the single bed when they’d checked-in, and Nandor was too busy grumbling about the lack of “funny pink birds” to notice either. They had a single, queen sized bed, to share. For the first time ever. For Guillermo’s first time ever sharing a bed with anyone since he was 7 and had to share a bed with his cousin, Miguel. His last sexual encounter before coming into servitude had been a brief fling with a Panera coworker, but he’d never shared a bed with that guy. It was just rough handjobs where the cameras couldn’t see after they were left alone for the third shift. Him and Nandor needed to talk. Not just about the bed, but about the coffin, the mind-numbingly terrifying journey across the ocean, the fight, and the kiss that had left Guillermo dizzy with desire.
The bathroom door clicks open and Guillermo holds a breath, nerves overtaking him, but also excitement? He’d heard once that excitement and nervousness were two sides of the same coin, and maybe this is what they meant. He was nervous, but damn he was excited to spend intimate time with his Nandor.
Speaking of – Nandor appears in a warm cloud of steam, eyes half-lidded and blissed out. A single, white towel is wrapped around his waist and Guillermo can’t help but let his eyes roam up and down his former Master’s body. Nandor is built like a warrior, hardened, well-worn muscles covered in a layer of soft fat and topped with thick black hair that spans across his chest, circles his nipples, and crawls down to this stomach and – oh the towel is short . Guillermo wonders if Nandor is even using the right kind of towel, but how could he complain when Nandor’s body is on full display? It was impossible.
Guillermo wants, desperately wants, to run his fingers through his Masters belly hairs, follow the trail down beneath the towel, press his face to his Nandor’s navel and inhale deeply.
Nandor stretches and moans and Guillermo has to stifle his own pleased sound. Yes, he’d seen Nandor naked more times than he could count, but this was completely different. Nandor was unguarded, free from the expectations he put on himself back in Staten Island, a wanderer, a “waggly-bond” (Nandor’s words, after he’d drunk his first college student). The entire train trip down to Orlando had Guillermo’s head swimming with Nandor and his soft touches on Guillermo’s lower back, his compliments on Guillermo’s eyes in the moonlight or how his hair looked “extra bouncy” after that train shower, and his refusal to a) talk about the kiss and b) kiss Guillermo again. But, Nandor was noticing him and Guillermo noticed right back, nervous but eager to please. Even if they didn’t talk tonight, Guillermo at least wanted another kiss.
“Come here,” Guillermo beckons Nandor to join him on the bed and Nandor obliges, sleepy look in his eyes. Guillermo had managed to set out a brush and travel sized bottle of argan oil on the nightstand because he knew Nandor would need a good comb through after sleeping on cheap sheets the last couple of days. He spreads his legs, (Guillermo had managed to slip on some clean pajama bottoms and a t-shirt while Nandor showered), and Nandor plops down, face to the wall and back to Guillermo.
Guilllermo begins by rubbing some oil between the palms of his hands, allowing it to warm up before he works the oil through Nandor’s tangled, half-dried locks. The knots come undone easily and Guillermo ends up forgoing the brush with a pleased noise as a particularly stubborn knot releases under his ministrations. “I have your hair trained well,” Guillermo murmurs, warm breath ghosting over Nandor’s bare shoulder. The vampire shivers, much to his bodyguard’s delight, and he remains silent; Guillermo knows the silence means that Nandor is totally relaxed, pliable even.
His former Master’s hair begins to shine in the yellow lamp light; on a whim, Guillermo starts to separate the hair into sections. He rakes his blunt nails through each strand, lightly scratching Nandor’s scalp as he continues to work the oil in thoroughly. Nandor is practically purring beneath Guillermo’s touch and doesn’t notice when Guillermo begins to braid the sections together – Nandor usually preferred a simple top knot and hated any deviation from his beauty routine, but here he is in Guillermo’s lap, absolute putty in his hands.
The moment is over too soon, and Guillermo ties off the finished braid with a piece of silk that he knots into a bow. Nandor leans back against Guillermo’s chest and sighs heavily.
“Relaxed?” Guillermo’s heart is doing the exact opposite as Nandor lays his full weight against him.
“Very much, thank you,” comes Nandor’s rumbling reply. “I may have to let you braid my hair more often.”
Guillermo chuckles and lets his arms wrap tightly around Nandor’s bare chest. Nandor’s…bare chest…his brain catches up again and he’s taken aback for a moment. Strange, strange journey in-fucking-deed. His head is swimming again with excitement nerves and Nandor grunts, turns up toward Guillermo, fixing him with a look. “Why is your heartbeat so loud?”
“Excited,” Guillermo breathes. “Happy. Nervous.”
“That’s a lot of silly human emotions,” Nandor replies, shifting to sit up.
Guillermo immediately misses his former Master’s weight, crosses his arms reflexively across his own chest. ‘Definitely nervous,’ he thinks. Nandor is sitting in this bed, their shared bed, and Guillermo isn’t scared-nervous but he’s only ever been naked with himself. Rarely for long stretches of time – he’d moved from his mom’s place right into the vampire home, and whenever he tried to take a bath or even jerk off in his room to give himself a moment of fucking peace, one of the vampires would barge in and spoil the moment.
As if reading his mind, Nandor turns to Guillermo and asks, “Why are you wearing so many clothes?”
Guillermo chokes on his own spit. “Are you asking or telling me to get naked for you?”
Nandor shrugs. “You braided my hair. What is the phrase, titties for tats? You’ve seen mine, let me see yours.”
“Tit for tat,” Guillermo is sputtering, face flushing crimson. What the fuck is happening? After over a decade he thought there would be no more surprises, but Nandor is demanding he take his shirt off and mierda Guillermo would do anything he demanded, wouldn’t he? Nandor is looking at him, fully awake now, all traces of relaxation wiped off his face and replaced with an almost evil, hungry grin that has Guillermo’s stomach swooping. So much for talking, Guillermo thinks.
Guillermo’s hands are moving of their own accord when Nandor suddenly stops him. He flashes his bodyguard a look of concern that is barely masked by impassiveness. “If you aren’t comfortable, I understand,” Nandor says quickly. It’s like he’s afraid of scaring Guillermo, as if he hasn’t already scared him enough, as if Guillermo would ever leave his former Master after everything they have been through side-by-side.
“It’s not that I’m uncomfortable,” Guillermo says, placing his hands on top of Nandor’s and squeezing. “I promise. It’s just – it’s been awhile, for a lot of things. Too many fucking things, honestly, but I want to learn and I want you to show me…”
Nandor hooks a finger under Guillermo’s chin and forces their eyes to meet. “Show you what, little mouse?” Nandor questions softly. His darkened gaze is pinning Guillermo to the spot, and if Nandor wasn’t so horrible at hypnotism he would believe he was under a thrall.
“I want…I want you to show me how you like to be touched.” Guillermo is whispering, forcing Nandor to lean in closer. “Where, how hard, or soft, how fast…” and Nandor is kissing him before Guillermo’s brain can catch up and respond in kind. Their lips slide together, searching and finally, Nandor’s lips are cool against Guillermo’s flushed warm ones and it makes him shiver all the way down to his sock covered feet. Nandor pulls back, much to Guillermo’s disappointment, but he resumes his speech in earnest because he needs to talk to Nandor – needs to get everything out in the open –, “I want you to see me; it’s one thing to see yourself, it’s just another thing entirely for someone else to see you and…it’s been a long time since someone has seen me.”
Nandor nods in solemn understanding, dark eyes blown wide with a desire that makes Guillermo shiver again. He tucks a stray curl behind Guillermo’s ear. “I want to see you…please, if you’ll let me.”
And Guillermo delights in his Nandor’s politeness, his patience in letting Guillermo word vomit his thoughts all over the motel room. Guillermo has had little time to think about anything, especially himself, since he’d moved in with the vampires, but over time he had recognized a growing awakening. He’d always been labeled against his will and before his servitude he’d taken those labels to heart, defined himself by what he hated most in an act of self-sabotage.
Eventually, somehow, like a whisper in the night, this mindset shifted. He started noticing himself in the mirror and smiling. He would pause during his rushed morning routine while he stood naked and observe himself in the bathroom mirror, staring right back, fully human with stretch marks and dimples and gloriously delicious looking thighs and ass, and worthy of desire. He’d grown strong from the near daily body burials, furniture rearrangements and, later, assassin slayings. He’d grown more comfortable in his size, redefined his own worth, and he reveled in it. He deserved to show himself off. He deserved to express that desire.
Nandor is still staring at him, eyes smoldering with lust, but patience unwavering. Finally, Guillermo peels off his flimsy t-shirt and Nandor is on him in an instant, cool skin pressed tight against warm, grabbing at his lush hips and kissing at his neck. Then Nandor is sucking at the fragile skin of his collarbone, slurping almost obsecenely loud as his long fangs scrape against the skin. “Finally,” Nandor murmurs, “I thought I was never going to see you naked with all your thinking.”
Guillermo chokes out a breathy laugh that turns into a long, obscene moan as Nandor pulls back and tugs a nipple between his fingertips, delighting as it puckers underneath his touch before he leans down and envelopes the bud between his lips and sucks. Guillermo is howling, scrabbling at Nandor’s hair and cursing himself for picking a braid of all hairstyles, because it’s going to come undone by the time this is all over and he’ll just have to re-braid it and Nandor is kissing him soundly again.
“Stop. With. The thinking,” Nandor kisses Guillermo’s cheeks, forehead, chin, back up to his lips, and sucks at his bottom one, scraping at it teasingly with his fangs. “I can hear it louder than your heartbeat.”
“Give me something else to think about,” Guillermo gasps out, challenging his former Master. “I did say I wanted to learn.”
Nandor’s eyes flash hot and he points to the carpeted ground. “Knees. Now.”
Guillermo scrambles obediently, practically falling off the bed and onto the floor in his eagerness. Nandor is very obviously hard now that Guillermo is directly in front of him, the towel practically falling off due to Nandor’s rapidly thickening length, and Guillermo’s mouth waters as he goes to remove the rest of the fabric. There, why is Guillermo so surprised? It’s Nandor’s cock, something he has seen before, something that he has dreamed about before, but now it’s here, heavy and long, almost as thick in width as Guillermo’s wrist, and fully hard for him. For him!
The dark hairs on Nandor’s stomach grow thicker as they travel down and around his cock, and Guillermo leans forward without much thought, desperate to feel the wiry hairs between his fingers. “Is it okay if I just…touch?” Guillermo is panting, fingers itching to tug and pull, mouth desperate to learn his former Master’s taste. He can hear Nandor grunt his assent as he begins to stroke Nandor’s stomach and down, tugging the hairs and watching Nandor’s abdominals clench. Nandor is so soft and hard and everything, and Guillermo grips Nandor’s hairy thighs with his hands and leans in with a deep inhale.
Nandor is scratchy against his face and smells sharply of hotel soap with an undercurrent of musk that makes Guillermo dizzy. He can feel Nandor’s fingers start to wind into his curls, tugging him closer to his length. “Are you just going to smell me all night or do I get to feel that delicious mouth?” Nandor purrs from above him and Guillermo’s nerves are on fire with want, crying out with absolute need.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” Guillermo murmurs, peering up at Nandor who is watching his every move. “How long I’ve wanted to touch you? To taste you?”
Nandor fidgets, his cock twitches. Guillermo grips at Nandor’s thighs and continues. “How are you so hard for me already? Were you thinking about this in the shower? Were you thinking of fucking my mouth?”
Nandor gasps and moans and thrusts up into thin air, but Guillermo is right there holding him down firmly against the bed; he knows the Nandor is much stronger and could easily throw him off and ravish him (a thought that makes Guillermo throb with need), but he needs this, Guillermo needs to talk.
“I bet you were,” he continues as he strokes Nandor’s thighs, “I bet you were touching yourself, thinking about how good my mouth would feel wrapped around you.”
Guillermo’s fingers reward Nandor with whisper soft touches, skirting up and down around Nandor’s desire and making him shake. “You’re so big, Nandor,” Guillermo murmurs. “I bet you’d have to train me to take you, all of you.”
Nandor whines, broken and long, and he’s trying so hard not to tug Guillermo down to his cock, to thrust roughly into his mouth, and Guillermo is relishing in the power he holds over this supernatural being with the power to drain him dry. He watches, his mouth watering, as Nandor’s cock somehow grows even larger, lengthening and thickening at Guillermo’s words.
“Fuck,” he whispers as he stares, mouth open, “I knew you were a grower, but you can actually get even bigger than this?”
He doesn’t wait for a response; his hands reach forward and are wrapping around Nandor’s cock and, “How am I supposed to fit this inside me? My hands barely fit around it.”
Nandor groans and wriggles and whines and is absolutely pathetic with need, his hands clenched so firmly in the sheets Guillermo is worried they’ll rip. He begins to stroke, slowly, painfully slowly, watching as Nandor’s eyes shutter closed and his mouth falls open. Nandor is quiet, but his face says everything that Guillermo needs to know. “You feel so good in my hands, sir,” Guillermo says, quickening his strokes, “so heavy and full. I love the way your cock twitches.”
The praise is working, Nandor grunts as Guillermo twists a hand up and squeezes out thick drops of precum that run down his fingers. “I’ve always wondered what your cum tastes like,” Guillermo gasps out, emboldened and throbbing with want, “feels like…deep inside me. I want you to fuck me so bad, mark me, cover me in your come until all I smell like is you, absolutely wreck me – “
And before he can even finish Nandor is howling and thrusting into Guillermo’s hands, hips canting higher and higher as Guillermo continues to stroke. He lets his free hand wander, down further to cup Nandor’s heavy balls in his hands. “They’re so wrinkly!” Guillermo cries in delight before he can stop himself. He can feel Nandor’s eyes roll, his dick twitching in Guillermo’s hands from the teasing (a fact that Guillermo files away for a later date). “Sorry, it’s just…they’re so cute…”
“They’d be much cuter stuffed into your mouth,” Nandor rumbles as his hands release the sheets and grip furiously at Guillermo’s curls. He’s pulling Guillermo towards his leaking tip, but Guillermo’s hands are too busy exploring and touching, squeezing Nandor’s balls and rolling them with such tenderness that Nandor knows he won’t last much longer. Guillermo’s whorish words, his wandering hands are driving Nandor to the brink of insanity, and suddenly Guillermo’s finger reaches Nandor’s asshole, clumsily breaches him, but Nandor is howling again, throwing himself back onto the queen-sized bed as he comes over and over onto Guillermo’s chest.
“Wow,” Nandor can hear Guillermo in the distance, somewhere above the haze, “…is it true, what they say about vampire refractory periods?”
Nandor hears himself reply in the affirmative and then Guillermo’s hands are back on him again. His dick is so oversensitive that it almost hurts as Guillermo begins to stroke him, but Nandor can feel himself getting hard again – the pain flooding into overwhelming pleasure that has him shaking. Guillermo is babbling a sea of filthy obscenities that just makes Nandor harder, pushes him closer to the edge.
“Fuck, if I were you, I’d just be touching myself all day long,” Guillermo is staring daggers at Nandor, his grip firm and unrelenting and one finger still deep in his ass. “I’d be showing myself off to everyone, look at how big you are, how much cum you shot all over me, you’re filthy, aren’t you? You’re so needy, so desperate –“
Nandor feels the finger retreat and he whines at the loss, can hear Guillermo chuckling to himself and murmur, “Ah, ah, ah…,” when suddenly the finger is back, slicked up with oil, and pushing in roughly. Nandor grunts and whines, thrashes around Guillermo’s finger; it’s thick and as the second knuckle breeches, Nandor is trembling with pleasure. His Guillermo, his Guillermo will truly be the death of him. Nandor is panting as Guillermo continues his patient explorations, finally pushing fully into the vampire before pausing.
Nandor cants his hips up with a whine. “What are you waiting for?”
Guillermo smirks up at him. He’s learning far too quickly, Nandor thinks, before all thoughts are wiped away as Guillermo slips in a second finger without preamble and starts fucking him with abandon. The sharpness, the dull ache floods Nandor’s senses at once and then Guillermo finds his prostate and he’s seeing stars shooting behind his eyes. Guillermo is fucking and stroking him at a brutal pace that has Nandor begging in unintelligible grunts and groans for more, please, Guillermo, more, and so Guillermo, generously, gives him a third finger, grunting at the effort of filling his Nandor’s ass with every thrust. Then Guillermo suddenly releases Nandor’s cock but continues to fuck into him, relishing in the slick sounds his fingers make sliding in and out of Nandor, the way his former Master looks down at him with pure, lust soaked adoration, his long hair framing his face and casting his features into sharp relief (‘I’ll definitely have to re-braid’ Guillermo thinks briefly, then crooks his fingers inside Nandor and nearly makes him cry).
“Can you come without touching your dick?” Guillermo’s voice brings Nandor briefly back to earth as he locks eyes with his bodyguard. The look he receives is framed in thinly disguised innocence; Nandor knows deep down that the answer to Guillermo’s question is that Nandor’s thoughts don’t matter – he’s going to come just from Guillermo fucking him and that’s that. Guillermo squirts more of the argan oil onto his fingers, lets it dribble between Nandor’s ass cheeks, and then resumes his brutal pace, his other hand holding Nandor’s thigh in an iron grip.
“I know you can come without touching yourself,” Guillermo is panting, face shining with a thin layer of sweat, hair mussed, glasses askew, “you look so close, your dick is so red and thick, like it’s ready to burst, fuck Nandor, come all over me again, please…” and then Guillermo is kissing his thighs, sucking and biting haphazard trails over his skin, murmuring and whispering things Nandor never expected to hear fall from his bodyguard’s innocent, luscious mouth.
Not so innocent after all, Nandor vaguely thinks, until Guillermo bites down hard and Nandor is screaming, “Guillermo!” over and over again, the walls of the hotel practically vibrating with his shouts. Nandor thrashes and comes, and comes, and it is never-ending, he may just die again on this bed tonight with Guillermo’s fingers still thrusting and pushing as he comes over his own chest, his thighs, splatters onto Guillermo’s face and glasses and then collapses back with a broken moan.
Guillermo is laughing at him, laughing! At him! But Nandor is thoroughly wrung dry and can barely even register the offense as Guillermo is still fucking into him, still making every inch of his body tingle and spark with each press of his fingers. Guillermo is fully sitting up on his knees now, eyes locked onto Nandor’s and then finally, finally, his mouth is wrapping around Nandor’s still (somehow) hard cock. His thigh is released as Guillermo struggles to choke down his length and uses his free hand to stroke what he cannot reach.
Nandor sits up fully, still shaky from Guillermo’s rapturous torture, and watches as his cock slides in and out of his bodyguard’s plump mouth. He cradles his Guillermo’s face in his hands and thrusts, allowing himself to take what he desires. Guillermo is finally silent, but still moans obscenely around Nandor’s dick, drool pooling from his mouth and dripping down his chin. His eyes are glazed over with the pleasure in getting everything he ever wanted: Nandor’s dick, Nandor’s length choking him and bruising the back of his throat, Nandor marking him, covering him and making Guillermo his own. Nandor locks eyes with Guillermo who whines aloud, mouth vibrating around Nandor’s cock and then he’s coming again before he can even call out a warning, but Guillermo is right there sucking at him eagerly, taking every last drop of cum until some of it starts to spill down his chin and onto his heaving chest.
And Nandor is done – he collapses, pants, tries to will his mind to come back into his body. Guillermo releases his cock and leans heavily against Nandor’s thigh with a breathy moan. “Nandor –,” Guillermo starts, but before he can finish the thought, Nandor grabs at Guillermo’s shoulders and lifts him effortlessly onto his bare lap. Somehow his bodyguard is still wearing his plaid pajama bottoms and as Guillermo slides into his lap, Nandor growls low in his throat, fangs bared; Guillermo is completely soaked through the fabric and is practically writhing against Nandor’s thigh.
“You little rascal,” Nandor is whispering hotly in Guillermo’s ear, ripping off the offending bottoms and throwing them to the floor, “…it’s my turn now.” Before Guillermo can protest the destruction of his only pair of PJs, Nandor is stroking at his cock and teasing his soaked entrance, whispering filthy promises into his ear. “I’m going to fuck you in every city, every state, until you can no longer stand –”
“Why wait?” Guillermo gasps, thrusting against Nandor’s teasing finger, tightens his grip on Nandor’s shoulders. “Please, fuck me, por favor mi amor…”
“Fuck you with what? Hm? My spent cock that you so generously wore out,” Nandor hisses, toying with his squirming Guillermo as he kisses his face, his neck, sucks at the hollow of his throat, refuses to give him any more than a few teasing strokes.
“Lo que quieras mi amor, por favor,” came Guillermo’s breathy response. He’s so hard and so wet and so desperate for release and it’s all crashing around him at lighting speed: blind, unending, mindless lust. “Fuck me, Nandor, now!’
“Tsk, tsk,” Nandor chides, “…such a bossy little mouse,” but Nandor, unlike his namesake, finally relents and pushes a finger into Guillermo’s throbbing hole, crooks said finger just so and Guillermo is bearing down on Nandor, clenching and moaning and fucking himself as Nandor continues to stroke his cock with his thumb and forefinger at an almost painfully slow pace. Guillermo reaches forward and tugs Nandor to him, crashing their lips together in a messy kiss, and then Nandor murmurs, “Let go, my Guillermo.”
“Fuck, Nan-Nandor,” Guillermo is gasping, tears streaming down his face, “bite me, Nandor, I’m so close –“ and Nandor sinks his teeth into Guillermo’s throat, drinking deeply as Guillermo howls Nandor’s name like a filthy prayer and comes completely apart, his dick and hole throbbing as he comes all over Nandor’s thighs and stomach, riding Nandor’s finger until he collapses against his chest with a feeble moan. And Nandor is still there, whispering in Guillermo’s ear about how good he is, how well he did, how beautiful he looks when he’s coming; and kisses his face, licks and soothes the puncture marks until the bleeding halts, holds Guillermo close and allows the shaking to subside before depositing him on the bed.
“Where…?” Guillermo’s voice is hoarse. Nandor darts into the bathroom and returns with a warm towel, wiping off his bodyguard’s chest, stomach, and cock with such a tenderness that it makes Guillermo’s heart practically skip a beat. He’s about to return the favor when Nandor pulls the covers out from underneath him and tucks him in tightly.
Nandor hooks a finger under Guillermo’s chin, brings their lips together in a sweet kiss, and whispers, “We should sleep now. Rest your head, my beloved.”
And Guillermo sleeps.
The next night…
Guillermo awakes in a fog to a fully dressed Nandor grumbling at the television. Guillermo fumbles for his glasses on the nightstand and the world around him becomes sharper; he can see Nandor clearly struggling to figure out his way through the settings menu. After 700 years the television is still, somehow, a complete mystery.
“What’re you -,” Guillermo is cut off with a kiss as Nandor swoops onto the bed. “Mm…hello.”
“Hi,” Nandor is grinning, fangs poking out adorably. Guillermo still can’t believe it, that they’re here together, that they’re sleeping in the same bed together, that he took his former Master apart multiple times before coming all over him, and so he kisses Nandor back just because he can.
Suddenly, Guillermo pulls away from the kiss and peers up at Nandor. “Are you wearing a Hawaiian shirt?”
“We’re going to the beach today!” Nandor cries, puffing out his bare chest. “We will greet Poseidon, ruler of the oceans, and I’m going to build a mighty sandcastle!”
“Give me a second, mi amor,” comes Guillermo’s mumbled reply. He’s too busy peeling back the unbuttoned, brightly patterned shirt and kissing Nandor’s bare shoulders. “We have plenty of time.”
And, indeed, they had forever.
End.