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"Vampire killer."
Nandor had playfully called him that, when Guillermo had killed Carol by accident. There was a part of Nandor in that moment that thought he might be more careful around the man, that if he could reduce Carol to ash with a broom without meaning to, he could just as easily kill Nandor with half a thought. When Guillermo crossed the same broken shards of wood against Nandor's chest without a thought, that part of him was swallowed by a much deeper, louder feeling that he immediately buried.
It wasn't until the night of the Nouveau Théâtre des Vampires, watching helplessly as his ‘harmless’ little familiar expertly destroyed every other vampire in the room in effective and alarming ways, that Nandor had to accept the truth: murderous and covered in blood, a walking danger to his very existence, Nandor had never been more attracted to Guillermo.
He sat on his lust for weeks. He was well aware of the kinds of kinky shit vampires could get up to with slayers; more than one manuscript detailing such things had been worn down to tatters in his library over the centuries, and here a legendary slayer’s descendant had been dusting under his nose for a decade! Before he could even consider anything, though, he’d needed to make sure Guillermo survived his housemates. After that, well, it would be improper to hit on his newly appointed bodyguard, and counterproductive besides to ask him for some of the things Nandor had definitely not been thinking of. The best course of action, though unspeakably disappointing, was to put it completely out of his mind.
This didn’t work for nearly as long as Nandor had hoped.
As it turns out, while the Greater Vampiric Council rewards ruthlessness, they do not abide liars, and pretending to be dead before his attempted super slumber was, in the combined words of his roommates, “single-minded, short-sighted, donkey-brained idiot” behavior. Answering these insults with the fact that he was heartbroken, directionless, and what else was he supposed to do? did not change their tune by much. Nandor would have fought this harder, if not for the renewed string of assassins now turning up at their door every other night to finish the job Nadja was supposed to have started, and the fresh problems with that arose in their wake.
It started when Nandor was awoken prematurely from an… illuminating dream: he, familiarless, hunts for his dinner down an empty street. Finding a plump little man with so much delicious blood to spare, he stalks his prey into a dark alley. He is about to pounce when, oh! Nandor becomes the prey - a flurry of stakes graze past him and collide loudly with the wall, ruining his clothing and pinning him by the cloak. He can’t see the face of his attacker in the dark, only the glint of light across his glasses, but Nandor knows exactly who he’s dealing with. “Oh Mr. Slayer, have mercy,” he begs unconvincingly, desiring no mercy besides a firm hand on his cock. He can still hear the stakes’ impact echoing down the alleyway… Wait, no, that’s not an echo–
The sounds of a struggle outside his coffin jolted him from his dream. Annoying, it was just about to get good .
He lifted his coffin lid expecting to see Guillermo trying to clean around the suits of armor and knocking things over again. Instead, his bodyguard had one of those Feratus in a grapple, grunting against the vampire swatting at the stake trying to knock it away. A creaky hinge gave Nandor away, catching Guillermo by surprise. The trespassing scoundrel was able to grab the stake from his hands, but wasn’t quick enough to escape Guillermo’s reflexes. He tightly squeezed, forcing the vampire’s arms inward to stake themself instead. The only sound was a wheezy gurgling followed by a thump as the unfortunate vampire dropped to the floor.
And then it was silent, save for Guillermo’s ragged but steady breathing and eagerly pumping blood starting to match pace with his lungs.
“That was very cool, Guillermo.” Nandor was stating the obvious, but he would have liked to hear it if their roles were reversed. Guillermo hardly seemed to take his words in, however. Nandor knew that non-committal uh-huh to mean I don't want you to know I didn't listen to you just now , and did not appreciate having it used on him. However, Guillermo stepping over to his coffin, face unreadable, had Nandor envisioning all sorts of fresh endings to his dream.
Instead of any improbable thing Nandor's brain could provide, Guillermo reached up to grab the coffin lid. All he said with a trembling but otherwise flat voice was, "Let's just stay in bed until the coast is clear," before pulling it shut on an indignant Nandor.
Try to pay a man a compliment, Nandor seethed. The encounter did tragically little to dissuade his erection, but he hadn't heard Guillermo so much as step away. Jerking off to a slaying now would just give the fantasy permission to persist, anyway. Nandor had no choice but to carefully wrangle his thoughts and hope for sleep to reclaim him.
It was barely two weeks before he was tested once more.
He was being reckless, he knew. Guillermo had insisted he not leave the house without accompaniment until the council wore itself out or rehired him, whichever came first. Nandor’s first thought to this was that he had survived for centuries without Guillermo watching his back, even as a squishy human warlord. His second thought was that, while it was nice having dinner brought to the house on demand, he was feeling increasingly cooped up and bored of the whole ordeal.
His antsiness had definitely, absolutely nothing to do with the frequency at which he was having dreams about Guillermo, and then waking up to find the same man anxiously puttering after him every chance he could. The sight of him standing in the corner of whatever room Nandor tried to be alone in, lost in thought while hypnotically sharpening a stake or rethreading the beads of his rosary, those leather gloves he’d adopted creaking with each movement, was not distracting in the least. Nandor was entirely normal about how he regarded his bodyguard, his employee thank you very much, and was entertaining zero irregular fantasies in his waking moments. The regular running mill fantasies were also appropriately cycled alongside his usual jerking off fodder about other people he knew, and anyone suggesting anything to the contrary was tragically mistaken.
He took advantage of one of Guillermo’s bathroom breaks to slip out the front door. He just needed to make sure he didn’t lose his edge as a fearsome vampire by securing his own snack, and definitely wasn’t trying to escape the heady aroma of slayer permeating the house and haunting his dick.
On a Friday night, it is easy to find someone far too drunk and far too alone, and if Nandor caught a little buzz from his spontaneous night on the town, then all the better. There’s a sad sports bar for sad, lonely men with a convenient back alley that Nandor likes to pick from when he goes out in a mood, certainly not from any comradeship with said sad lonely men. They’re not easy pickings , they simply are easily entranced by shiny things and are not as wary as they should be about following strangers away from the well-lit road to their doom.
Such as it was this night: all he had to do was wave his gold-embroidered cloak around and he had Joseph, 47, long haul trucker back from a long job, got a date with Lisa from dispatch tomorrow and he’s nervous to get back in the game rambling off his life story behind The Corner Bar & Grill while Nandor drank his fill. Maybe he should have tried a little harder, maybe even crossed the bridge and hit some real night life for more of a challenge? There was a rat trying to nibble at the seam of his boot no matter how many times he nudged it away, reminding Nandor why he hadn’t been back here in a while.
After a few more increasingly annoyed nudges, said rat was suddenly a full sized vampire, pushing his way between Nandor and his midnight snack. Nandor, freshly intoxicated but with centuries of training behind him, sidestepped just as the rat man lunged with intent to knock him down, instead throwing himself against a dumpster with a satisfying thump. Nandor grabbed his assailant by the scruff before he could right himself, with full intent to throw him in the dumpster if he wanted to be a rat so badly. Before he could do this, a sound straight out of his dreams interrupted him: a perfectly aimed stake thunk ed into its target, startling Nandor into dropping the body before it could bleed on him.
“Guillermo, I could have handled that!” Nandor chided as the man stormed towards him, all long, purposeful stride, fists clenched, mouth pursed in that way he did when he was pissed but thought he was playing it cool. Where does he think he’s taking that attitude? Nandor thought to himself, only to unhelpfully answer himself with a flash of images: Guillermo strides up to him, pushes him against the wall with an arm at his throat, growls at him for misbehaving, says, “I told you so,” knots his gloved fingers in Nandor’s hair and pushes him down, down to kneeling – Nandor cut that thought off immediately. Instead, thankfully, disappointingly, Guillermo kneels next to the body to inspect his handiwork.
“I told you not to go out without me,” Guillermo clipped back. He pulled the stake free with an off putting squelch, checking it over. “I could probably recycle this,” he considered briefly before wiping the gore on the clothes of its victim.
“Don’t, that’s so unhygienic.” Guillermo leveled a sharp look at him that silenced any further argument.
“I wouldn’t have to consider it if you just ate at home,” he shot back, standing up to face Nandor.
“I didn’t want anything we had at home.”
“ I’m at home.”
“Exactly my point.” As the words passed his lips he wanted to call them back, swallow them down and digest them into waste, expel them and never consider them again. But Guillermo’s soft gasp punctuated how it was too late for that. “Wait, that’s not what I–”
“No, I’m sorry.” This shocked any backtracking right out of Nandor. “I’m sorry that it’s so hard for you when I try to do the job that you asked me to do !” Guillermo gesturing toward him with bloodied stake in hand should have made Nandor nervous, but he was not remotely worried about that. “I don’t ask for anything in that house, I do everything for you, and sure! That’s my job! I agreed to that thirteen fucking years ago!” With every step Guillermo took toward him Nandor took one back, until he was against the wall and the part of his brain that refused to be silenced just flashed its evil little pictures again. “But I ask you to do one thing, not leave the house by yourself , which you hate doing half the time anyway, and all of a sudden you can’t wait to sneak out?” Guillermo had only yelled at Nandor like this twice before, and Nandor couldn’t even be appropriately cowed, having to focus instead on preventing dick sabotage.
“I could have handled that, though,” he murmured.
“What was that?” Guillermo stopped just inches away, every inch of him tensed to attack and daring Nandor to say it again. He really could have taken that guy, Guillermo just took care of it quicker. All precision, no panache. Nandor wouldn’t see it coming.
“I said, ‘I’ll be more careful,’” he lied. Or, did he lie? Nandor considered that he had been gone for maybe an hour, traveling mostly in bat form, and Guillermo definitely couldn’t fly overhead to look for him. Needless though it was, he must have been truly worried. Nandor did not want to examine just how much that thought upset him, so he set it firmly aside.
Guillermo studied his face for longer than was fully comfortable, if any part of this situation would be considered comfortable.
“Thank you,” he breathed, settling back into the less angry, more anxious posture Nandor was accustomed to. At their feet, Joseph moaned very pathetically, shaking Nandor back into his skin. He still hadn’t decided what to do with him. “Uh. Did you wanna take this guy back to the cell for later?”
“I could finish him off before we go back…”
“Oh, what happened to ‘unhygienic’?” Guillermo teased. Nandor huffed in annoyance, but this was an act. Guillermo was joking around to ease them back to normal, and Nandor appreciated it. Also, he was right; Joseph had been bleeding in the muck far longer than any five second protocol.
“You are right, we should take him home.”
He hoisted Joseph up by the arm and led him out of the alley. “How did you find me back here, anyway?” Part of sneaking out was that Guillermo wasn’t supposed to know where he was.
Guillermo actually scoffed. “Master, you come here all the time.” He gestured across the street to a shopping mall. “Look, there’s my old Panera, even. This is literally where we met?”
Nandor could say nothing. He was an unknowable, terrifying night monster, he was not supposed to be predictable . Guillermo just laughed again at his silence before directing them across the street, where he had parked the car. So help him, as much as a bloodthirsty Guillermo thrilled him, Nandor was happier still to hear him laugh.
Nandor has since stayed true to his word about being more careful. He certainly knows better than to investigate all that thumping and yelling coming from the attic. He knows beyond doubt that Guillermo has this well in hand, and he really doesn’t need to play with that particular fire again.
The warrior in him still itches to see, though, the same voice saying ‘ It sounds like a real struggle up there, he’s probably working up a good sweat ’ that does not need encouragement. It refuses to be silenced. ‘ What if he needs help? What if you take them on together? What if you bathe in the blood of your foes and then wash each other clean of the viscera? ’ With such thoughts in mind, he has no hope of focusing back on his book. If he keeps his distance, what could be the harm in peeking?
And so, he finds himself at the base of the stairs before he can roll his eyes at himself, filing away the grunts of effort drifting down from the attic for later mischaracterization.
Nandor can hear the brawl much better as he floats up the stairs and down the hall to avoid the creaky floorboards. At the end of the hall he can spy a lifeless arm flung just inside the mostly-closed door. He smirks to himself, full of misplaced pride at the sound of another vampire hissing and colliding with a wall, the whistle and thunk of a wooden stake following immediately after and surely finding its mark. Nandor thinks that the Council must mean business to send two assassins at once, but he told himself Guillermo would have it handled and was right. He still wants to see the carnage for himself.
Not wanting to startle Guillermo and be yelled at again, Nandor is a vapor as he slides around the corner to survey the scene, only to be shocked solid at the sight of a third vampire he couldn’t hear, probably due to the rosary choking him out. In another time, the very sight of this vampire would make him concerned for Guillermo. Now, though, Nandor almost feels sorry for the vampire as much as he feels jealous: the human - the slayer - has him on his knees, hands scrambling uselessly against the holy beads wrapped tight around his throat. Vampires don’t need to breathe, but Nandor imagines the sensation would still be… exquisite , the voice in his head supplies. Terrifying , he wants to correct but knows himself better than that. What a way to go.
Nandor sighs at the idea, body betraying him before he can consider needing to pull himself together. In the same moment he sees the third assassin fall, his legs are swept from under him, dropping him to a kneel as Guillermo comes up on him faster than he thought. Worse, he feels that rosary-wrapped hand at his throat, answering his unspoken wish like a curl of the monkey’s paw. The blistering pressure of the dangling cross is like a white-hot weight pinning him to the wall. He never expected his demise to be like this, but his dick has led him to worse potential ends, so if this is the one, he has few regrets. Reaching out to cup Guillermo’s soft cheek in one hand, the other coming to rest on the arm at his throat, Nandor wishes he had thought through his last words so he could have avoided an embarrassingly breathless, “ Thank you .”
Worst of all, he does not die.
“ What the fuck… ?” Guillermo whispers, letting his hand drop to Nandor's chest but otherwise unmoving.
Of course Nandor doesn’t die. He doesn’t need to breathe, and he’s been through worse than some sacrilegious choking and a crucifix through three layers of clothing. It burns, but of course he will live, this is his Guillermo, not the mysterious and ruthless Guillermo-shaped slayer that has stalked through his fantasies all this time. And now he’s just thanked Guillermo for killing him and doesn’t even have the good fortune to die! He is developing a fresh regret as the moment drags on.
Beneath his hands, unaware of Nandor’s battle with embarrassment, Guillermo thrums . Unspent energy shakes for release, the fire in his eyes dancing against clear confusion. Nandor wants to take that energy however it comes. What is the turn of phrase again? In for a pinning, in for a pounding ? He's already one of those things, might as well go for the other. Hand still resting on warm cheek, he pulls a frozen Guillermo down to meet him, giving him ninety and waiting for the ten. Tense, hot breath flows over his skin in short puffs but no kiss comes, and Nandor realizes, wait no , this is the breathing Guillermo does when he’s panicking –
“Wait, wait! Nandor, I-I…” The hesitation in Guillermo’s voice does not match his body language: voice small, clipped, but still pressing the rosary into Nandor's chest without even realizing. "Not like this, I could really hurt you.”
“You will not.” Nandor knows this in his bones. "You always restrain yourself against me," he reassures. Something in this phrasing pulls some choked sound from his bodyguard, his slayer. As if to correct them both, the stench of his own burning flesh rises between them to illustrate that yes, Guillermo had stopped, poised for one final kill that something else in him wouldn’t let him finish.
The smell seems to finally shake something in Guillermo. He gasps and pulls away from Nandor, as if the vampire was the one who was burning him , throwing the beads to the ground. Just as quickly, those hands that had just been ready to kill him are undoing the buttons of Nandor’s tunic, shaky fingers pulling much more frantically than usual until his undershirt is exposed.
“I knew you prefer to undress me,” Nandor quips with all of his charm.
“Shut up.” Rude .
His undershirt, too, is unlaced, frantically pushed to the side to expose - oh that’s burned beautifully. Nandor hisses, the sight of the brand just left of center on his chest searing into that part of his vampire’s brain in an echo of how the crucifix had seared into his flesh. Guillermo makes a sound that could be a sob.
“ See ? I burned the hell out of you, this looks really bad, I-I’m so sorry,” he is saying, fingers dancing around the raised, scorched flesh. Nandor has to screw his eyes shut from the sight, which is a shame, because Guillermo’s strong and capable hands are touching his chest, brushing his nipple in their frantic assessment, and it’s everything he is done denying that he’s wanted.
It’s Nandor’s turn to shush. He grabs one of Guillermo’s worrying hands in his.
"You stopped," he reminds, pressing his lips to the hand that minutes before had masterfully killed three vampires. His lips tingle where he holds Guillermo’s fingers to them, knuckles scraped bloody and tempting in a struggle where there could have been no other outcome but this – slayer, victorious, knelt over his final prize – "I caught you by surprise again and you did not kill me." Oh , the ways Nandor wants to test that power and restraint.
Guillermo sighs, shaky, and sits back. “One of these days I might not catch myself in time, though.” These words are not to Nandor, he doesn’t think. They are spoken to the ceiling, where Guillermo looks to ask guidance from someone who has no business in this house. Then, back to Earth, back to Nandor: “What’s it going to take for you to stop getting in the middle of these things?”
Nandor considers. He supposes Guillermo has more than earned his respect, and Nandor has even granted him some deference in matters of his personal safety. To be fair to himself, he had really tried to focus back on his book earlier, but how could he, with all this going on upstairs? It was really distracting! He huffs.
“For starters, you could stop traipsing around in your little shirtsleeves just waiting to pounce,” he teases. Guillermo is still straddling his lap, and he did just almost die! He figures he deserves a little cajoling in exchange, even if it was his own fault.
“You mean… my clothes that I wear every day?”
“Don’t be coy, you used to wear so many more sweaters.” Nandor notices these things. The layers never did much to mask the smell of fresh, eager blood trotting along behind him, but the wool was such a constant for so many years that he almost misses its absence; he liked to think he could smell the farm where the sheeps lived before donating their fur. “Now you’re all tight vests and suspenders, you get a little sway in the house and suddenly you’re just showing off!”
“Showing off.” Guillermo’s eyebrows are drifting higher as he lets Nandor talk himself into a hole, lips pressed together like they’re holding something back. Nandor isn’t sure he likes this face. It feels like losing the situation, when he already started on his ass. He needs to pull out the big cards.
“Yes, obviously,” he says. “Ever since your promotion you’ve been pushing boundaries and trying to get me to notice you. It’s obvious you’re in love with me.”
Now that he’s said it, though, he realizes the ramifications. He’s known for years, obviously, but was polite enough to ignore it, as he hoped someone would for him until he was ready to act. But speaking it aloud makes it tangible, and now Nandor must consider this love in the context of everything Guillermo has ever done.
“That’s… how I know you couldn’t kill me,” he breathes. Pieces are starting to come together as he is pinned there, and he can’t drift away from it. The weight of Guillermo on his thighs and his back pressed against the wall hold him down. The steady ache of the burn on his chest as his body tries to heal itself against the offending cross feels too much like a proper heartbeat. Tying all of it together is love. For the second time since he came to the attic, Nandor thinks he might be afraid.
Guillermo just stares at him, mouth agape and eyebrows scrunched. It’s a face Nandor has learned means, Are you an idiot ? And Nandor thinks, if it took him getting jumped by Guillermo a third time to put it to words, maybe he is a fucking idiot. Maybe. Then, Guillermo's lips come crashing back to his, like the tide coming in all at once. Everything suddenly makes sense.
Fear and apprehension are two different beasts. Nandor could never be afraid of Guillermo, because… Shit .
“Yeah, well, you love me, too,” Guillermo is breathing into him as he makes the connection himself. The same concept barraging from within and without is too overwhelming to argue against. He pushes past the burgeoning realization, however, desperate not to miss a moment of kissing Guillermo with trivialities that can be sorted out later. Nandor raises a hand to tangle in curls that have tempted him for years, wanting to hold Guillermo in place until Nandor is ready to move on from kissing him, if such a time exists. A warm, rough hand squeezes his, pulling him back to the present.
“...Right?”
He’s dreamed of a situation like this more often than is proper between a vampire and his familiarbodyguard, and that part of him begs him to say whatever the right words are to get back to the kissing and the touching. There is something in Guillermo’s voice when he asks, however: a familiar apprehension that gives Nandor pause to actually think . This pause is enough for Guillermo to tense once more, and not in the sexy about-to-pounce way that Nandor would prefer. Nandor must pull him back in or risk losing him.
“I need you,” he offers, straining up to recatch Guillermo’s lips and rejoicing when he meets no resistance. “When you’re gone, I don’t know how to fill the days.” He starts to trail his lips down Guillermo’s smile lines, tasting the shape of his jaw. “I hate to see you sad or angry because I’ve come to count on your smile, better still when you smile at me . Your scent,” he punctuates, dipping to take that very aroma in sharply from just behind Guillermo’s ear, “is what makes this place smell like home.” Uncovering this feeling is like finding a light when he hadn't even known he was in darkness. “I love you,” he mouths against Guillermo’s jaw. “I love you, I love you.” The words follow his lips around every part of Guillermo’s face that had ever tempted him - across his soft cheeks, against his eyelids, across his brow, back to his beautiful mouth, kissing out the last of his apprehensions at Guillermo's temple. “Now you.”
“...'Now me' what?” Guillermo asks breathlessly.
“You made me say it, now I need to hear that you love me.”
Guillermo laughs, soft and sweet, and he is lucky Nandor loves the sound. “But you were so sure,” he teases.
“It’s cruel to mock someone when he’s baring his heart to you, Guillermo!”
“I’m sorry!" Guillermo giggles through his apology, calling to question how sorry the rascal really is. "I guess I just didn’t expect… Well. I love you, too.”
That light in the darkness erupts into blinding brightness, like if someone installed the entire sun right in this attic. Nandor must bury his face in Guillermo's neck to escape it. From his quickening pulse alone, he thinks Guillermo must prefer him here, as well.
"I shall never again have cause to miss the sun," Nandor vows against Guillermo's throat.
“What?”
“I said–”
“No, I heard you, just, what do you mean?”
“Oh, I mean to say, who needs anything else when I have a beautiful man sitting in my lap and telling me he loves me?”
“ Jesus- ” Nandor hisses at the utterance, the name pulsing in Nandor’s wound. “ Shit , sorry! I just didn’t expect-”
Nandor groans. “No being sorry, do it again.”
“...Oh.” Nandor can taste the deepening flush creeping up Guillermo's face in the blood racing up just below his skin. “Oh my God .” Yes , that’s the stuff. "Wait, I didn't mean- I mean, really ?"
Nandor pulls Guillermo’s hand to his chest, pressing his fingers against the still-healing burn, letting himself moan against the touch before pulling back to watch his face.
“Guillermo, I must tell you, I have had many, many thoughts about this exact situation,” he admits. Guillermo’s face is redder than he’s ever seen it, eyes wide. “I know it is improper, but we are perhaps a little past that now, yes?”
“...Of course you’d be stuck on propriety , that makes sense,” Guillermo muses to himself. His fingertips idly, tortuously, deliciously tracing his handiwork on Nandor’s chest. He sighs. “Me, too, I guess. I mean, you apparently already knew I was into you, though, so one of us played it a lot cooler, huh?”
“You don’t have vampiric senses to tell my mood by pulse and scent, it is understandable.” Nandor relies a lot on these senses, like right now when Guillermo’s heart stutters and tells him Guillermo likes Nandor tracking him in this way.
“You’re not afraid I have secret slayer senses to do the same thing?” Guillermo teases.
“If you did, I would have been in trouble long before now. I have thought about you like this a lot .” Nandor delights in the flutter of Guillermo’s heart as he doubles down. If he is not upset, Nandor would like to get back to the kissing. They can negotiate a little sacrilege while kissing, right? Nandor has done much more based on much less.
The problem, Nandor discovers, is that he never could have predicted how easy it is to get lost in kissing Guillermo. There are so many little sounds, gasps, breath hitches, beautiful moans that he is hearing for the first time just from mapping out his mouth. He likes Nandor to go a little heavy with tongue, he really likes when his lip catches fang, and while Nandor could live in the scent of his arousal overtaking the vampiric blood all around them, that’s not a risk Nandor thinks he can play with just yet. Instead, he settles on drifting back down to Guillermo’s neck, where he can taste how Guillermo wants him radiating from his veins.
Guillermo’s free hand travels across Nandor’s shoulder, landing at the back of his head, leather-clad fingers knotting against his skull and drawing a long moan from Nandor. He yanks again, pulling him off completely.
“We gotta stop,” Guillermo is saying, beautifully breathless and kiss-bruised, and Nandor is confused as to why.
“I love you,” Guillermo assures him. He laughs as he says it, a light and airy sound, leading Nandor to believe he enjoys saying it as much as Nandor enjoys hearing it. “I love you, I know you, and I really wanna do this, but I want to do this right.” He brings his hand around to stroke Nandor’s cheek in comfort.
“What could be more right than this?” Guillermo loves him, wants him, Nandor can smell just how badly.
“Master, there’s bodies.”
“Exactly.”
“And I’m disgusting.”
Nandor turns his head to press a kiss into Guillermo’s gloved palm. “You are beautiful.”
“And you’re very convincing.”
“Convincing enough for you to take me here on the floor, vampire killer?” Nandor levels his most enticing gaze at Guillermo, nestling his face in Guillermo’s palm for maximum efficacy.
“ Jesus Christ –” Exquisite. “Let’s… Wow.” Nandor considers Guillermo’s pause for composure a small victory. “See, that’s what I mean, if we’re gonna do this whole roles thing, can we set some parameters first? Like, I just said I feel gross with the bodies, we need to figure this out first.”
Nandor sighs and leans his head back. Now Guillermo is speaking his other favorite language: protocols. There is no getting this back on its previous track. The hand he just released comes to stroke his neck in a stunning mixing of messages.
“Looks like I got you good here, too,” Guillermo notes. Nandor had almost forgotten about the choking. “Let me clean up, and later we can talk about how I can make it up to you?”
Nandor doesn’t have to think about it for long. “We will each bring a list of things we want to try, and we can make a new list together based on those lists.” He’s already drafting his list mentally as Guillermo climbs off his lap, granting Nandor one more kiss as he does.
“Great idea, Master,” he praises. “I’ll think about what’s on mine while I clean up and we can come together tomorrow?”
“I hope so.” Nandor feels light as air as he stands up, already five items down his list. “Oh, we can make a board to make sure none of our combined ideas gets ignored! I know you like to feel like your input is valuable, Guillermo.”
“ Thanks , Master. I’m in great hands…” Guillermo is suddenly very eager to clean the mess he’s made in the attic, from the way he’s motioning Nandor out the door. Nandor understands. He’s also excited to make his list and talk in detail about everything, everything he wants to do with Guillermo.
Nandor supposes they’re going to have to get him back on the council to stop the assassination attempts. It’s a shame; he’s just now getting to enjoy his retirement, but he’s got a lot of lost time to make up for and a lot of exploring to do.