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winterThis story is entirely ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
valancystar’s fault. She put up a clip of Jesper Tydén in leather as Rudolf Habsburg in Elisabeth, and my von Krolock decided he wanted to slide his hands around those hips. Then fyrie encouraged him. The rest is – nearly 3000 words of little but kinky crossover smut. All relevant information is given in the story though, except for the historical facts of Rudolf Habsburg and Mary Vetsera in Mayerling lodge.
Fandom: Elisabeth/Tanz der Vampire/Historical
Rating: NC-17 with bells on
Warnings: Dubious consent, bloodplay, mild SM
Pairings: Von Krolock/Rudolf, Death/Rudolf
WANTING
Mayerling, January 29 1889
He tried to keep track of time, but the clock in the hallway was broken, stuck at five to midnight. Rudolf Habsburg turned away from it, stumbling over the carpets, knocking a boar’s head off the wall. Was it too late already, would his guest never come at all?
He laughed quietly. He was so much like a hostess, like Stephanie had been each time Mother came to visit, so anxious to impress and endear. Then again, it had taken three years to bring along this meeting – if there were to be a meeting at all – and maybe that excused him.
Had it been three years already, he wondered as he slumped against the balustrade at the bottom of the stairs. Three years ago, a book in Budapest, a sheaf of letters falling to the floor at his feet. His host’s paleness when he read the signature in the letters out loud.
Rudolf thought he should have brought the letters down with him after all. Then again, he could quote from them by heart now. It is the fate of the gentle mind to stare in wonder and in horror at the vicissitudes of history, but when I look to the future and see them worsen, I scent the blood of generations to come. They reach for me from beyond the cradle, fingers clawing at the one who could have nipped their suffering in the bud, but a mind too fragile and resolve too weak made him retreat into a scholar’s shell...
The Latin words written centuries before echoed Rudolf’s own thoughts so closely, so perfectly.
He knew His Majesty, Father, was suspicious of his recent actions, but for once Rudolf did not have rebellion in mind. Like the writer of the letters, he was searching for a way to go on, a way to join the shadows that gathered around him. It wasn’t his fault the path led him to Hungary again, to dark alleys and underground bars so similar to the ones his revolutionary-minded friends liked so much.
They come in the darkness, but the darkness gives me strength as well. If I become one with them, they will have care not to trifle with me. Mother of God, give me strength in the darkness...
They both turned to the Mother, Rudolf thought. The writer of the letters to Mary the Immaculate, he to Mama. Neither of them received answers.
He was at the door to the parlour now. It was closed, the way he’d left it, with the candlestick across the handles. He felt a sharp cold draught from under it, though the window had been closed when he left the room.
His hands slipped on the handles and the candlestick clattered to the floor.
Shadows. Shadows thrown by lamps, flickering, fractured. The mirrors behind each lamp had been delicately shattered, leaving all shards in their frames.
Rudolf looked straight ahead as he walked to the window. In the centre of the room, something rustled under his foot. Hair.
There were snowflakes on the inner sill. The ice crystals formed fern-like patterns on the glass.
“I’ve read your letters,” he started. His voice sounded empty, reedy in the vast parlour. “I found them in a book. You never thought anyone would read them, did you? Your mother was dead by then, I think.”
A rustle of cloth behind him? Was it his imagination?
“I tried to find out as much as I could about you,” Rudolf continued. “It’s just that your letters – it’s like reading my own diary. The shadows, the pain, the – what you said about ‘the duty to my blood that will not let me rest my bones in soft earth’, I have the same curse! I want to be a scholar, an explorer, but my father won’t let me! No-one will let me!”
His shout echoed around the room.
He leaned his forehead against the cold glass. “You’ve found a way to escape it all. I know you did. You survived it all. I,” he choked out, “I want the same. Please.”
Silence, then, and he thought it was all useless. Of course no-one came, because the Graf Johannes von Krolock had been buried for centuries, and the legends were only legends. And Mary was just drunk on wine and morphine as usual.
A line of pain at his nape. Sharp. He made a surprised, hurt sound.
“Rudolf Habsburg...”
A low voice, neither young nor old, the r’s as sharp and tingling as the blade at his neck. Rudolf stared desperately at the dark window, but the reflection showed only his face.
“Then you want eternity?”
“I want to be like you,” he whispered. “Please.”
“Many want our power and glory.” The sharp point moved down his spine, tugging his collar away. “If I gave it to anyone who asks, there would be more predators than prey. You are a naturalist, your Highness, so you understand why the numbers have to be limited.”
Rudolf wondered if the cold came from the window, or from behind him.
“Rudolf Habsburg,” the creature behind him hissed. “What are you willing to do for what you ask?”
“Anything,” Rudolf whispered. “Anything.”
There was a wordless hiss behind him. The lights flickered. For a moment, nothing touched him, and again he wondered if he was alone in the room.
The hands slid over his hips slowly. Rudolf did not see them in the window, but he felt them, and they were there when he looked down. Long white fingers tipped with monstrous sharp nails. A vampire’s hands.
He felt they were claiming him, taking control of his body, pulling him back a fraction until he rested against a broad chest. He wanted to scream, but all that emerged was a mewling sound.
He’d said he’d do anything.
“Hush,” the vampire whispered in his ear. “I need to taste your thoughts, young Prince. I need to know you and what you need.”
“What I want?” Rudolf whispered breathlessly.
“What you need.”
The hands clenched on his hips, the nails biting into his skin through the cloth. He’d never done this, never been with a man like this, and student fumblings did not count, nor did adolescent dreams of blond hair and laughing eyes, lips that promised to be near whenever needed, because that was his childhood madness, an imagined friendship with Death. He was the Prince, the Heir, and one did not do this, not with a man.
His hand moved back, touching the vampire’s thigh. He did not even know what the creature looked like, apart from the hands. For all he knew, Johannes von Krolock might be a monster now.
“Good,” von Krolock whispered in his ear.
There was a sweet, metallic scent in the air. Rudolf shivered, and the hands on his hips moved again, both soothing him and sending more shivers through his body.
He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Can I see you?”
“Yes.” The word was accompanied by a kiss to his ear, barely more than a touch of lips.
The hands slipped up to his waist, helping him turn. Rudolf wondered if he should close his eyes, but he didn’t.
Johannes von Krolock was forever stilled in the prime of his years, his body straight, his hair long and dark, his features noble. Rudolf glimpsed the reddened lips, but the eyes captured him. Pure black. Mesmerising.
He would have held his breath longer, but dark spots swirled across his vision. An arm slipped around his waist, holding him up. He clutched at von Krolock’s shoulder, and the vampire’s flesh was cold under the cloth.
He felt the nails at his nape again, but this time the touch was light as his head was tilted back. He remembered all the old tales about vampires drinking blood from their victims’ throats.
But von Krolock’s lips touched his own instead. Rudolf felt the tip of the vampire’s tongue, coaxing his mouth open, and he had said he would do anything, so he opened his mouth and held on to broad shoulders, barely flinching when he tasted the blood.
He was tasted thoroughly, then his head was pulled back. His throat was exposed, but von Krolock’s eyes were on his mouth still. Long fingers slipped between Rudolf’s lips, spreading them just as mercilessly. Cold, Rudolf thought, and slipped his tongue along one finger, almost cutting it on the fingernail.
There had been student fumbles once, and Rudolf had an idea about what he was offering when he closed his mouth around the fingers. His cheeks hollowed with the suction, and von Krolock’s eyes were darker than the shadows around them.
He no longer had support around his waist, and so he went down on his knees easily.
It was something else to watch it, even have it performed him on him by women (and that once, only once), than to attempt it himself, and his breath caught in his throat as he tried to steel himself. He pressed his cheek against von Krolock’s hip, trying to breathe slowly and evenly, and a hand ruffled his hair. So cold, so calm, and enticing him to turn his face. He had to prove himself worthy, useful, determined enough to be granted his wish.
Once he opened his eyes, he realised he’d been at least spared the indignity of fumbling with the vampire’s clothing, but the surge of gratitude only lasted for a moment. He couldn’t stop himself from shuddering, choking, his eyes watering as he tried to be true to his word. Anything, he’d said.
When von Krolock stepped away from him, Rudolf doubled over, almost sobbing with his shame. Unworthy-
Arms closed around him, pressing him to the vampire’s chest. He tried to struggle, but the grip was too strong. It was such an unfamiliar situation that Rudolf froze, breathing in the scent of candle wax and the barest hint of blood. A hand was moving on his back, stroking him gently, and he gradually relaxed into von Krolock’s hold. He tried to remember when he was last held like this, but his memory failed him. In his childhood, maybe, when everyone seemed as tall and overwhelming.
He’d wondered whether there was anything left in the vampire of the man that had written the letters, but now he felt a pervasive feeling of understanding. Magic, vampire magic, and how low had he fallen to find it comforting?
Low enough to lure a girl hardly out of childhood into his bed and to her death, he reminded himself. It didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered but this last hope for escape. One he’d just wasted.
“Hush, child,” von Krolock whispered in his ear. “You are only human. Let me taste your dreams.”
Rudolf was starting to enjoy the kisses. They seemed to leech all will from him, and with it the guilt and shame. He squirmed when the hands slipped lower, pressing him against the vampire again, baring the skin between his shirt and his belt.
But the belt was hanging open now. His breath caught again for a different reason as he was touched in strange places, and he arched his neck. There were cracks on the ceiling though he only had it repainted a year ago, and there were fangs at his throat, and he nearly wept.
Only a scrape against his throat, then somehow opening the top button of his shirt without leaving so much as an indentation on the fabric. Rudolf moved his hands over von Krolock’s shoulders, unsure what he should do. Then his wrists were caught, moved to his own chest, and he caressed himself as black eyes watched him without blinking.
It felt good, so he fumbled with the buttons until he could touch his own skin. Von Krolock caught his chin and leaned close again, closing Rudolf’s eyes with touches of his own lips.
Then silence. Suddenly, the room felt empty, and Rudolf gasped.
Before he could open his eyes, he felt von Krolock’s presence again, on his knees but behind Rudolf, pressing close. Hands on his hips again, this time on bare skin, and Rudolf looked down as the touch moved lower. He arched with a gasp, then his chin was seized and pulled back for a forceful kiss, and with the loss of balance he fell forward, catching himself on his hands.
Another pause, then a hand slipped under his body, caressing him firmly from throat to belly. Von Krolock’s fingers grasped Rudolf’s trousers and pushed them down. Rudolf fought the impulse to buck against that hand, or the other that was moving up from the back of his thigh. He didn’t need to, because the touches continued, and if some of it hurt, then he’d said he’d do anything. And it didn’t hurt that much, not when-
Then it did hurt, but von Krolock’s hands were on his hips once more, guiding him and soothing his trembling. Rudolf felt his eyes watering, and he bent his arms until his forehead was resting on the floor.
“I wish you could see how beautiful you look like that,” von Krolock murmured. “You are broken, young Prince. In everything you have touched, you have failed. You are to live your life for your family, yet if they saw you now, they would cast you out and curse your name.”
The scream caught in Rudolf’s throat. He lurched forward with the thrust, his muscles so tense it felt like his bones were being pulled apart.
“You have chosen the shadows, Rudolf Habsburg.” Von Krolock’s voice was low, melodious, caressing. “They hide your face and your body, but not from me. I can give you what you want, or what you need, or I can kill you in a heartbeat.”
The hand on Rudolf’s hip was curled into a claw, drawing blood that ran in stripes along his thigh. Rudolf whimpered with every thrust, arched with every spasm of pleasure.
“If I am to kill you,” von Krolock hissed in his ear, “you will learn to live with the shadows. Give into them. To pain and pleasure and the hunger that never dies.”
Rudolf thought blurrily that he might not survive that, judging by how much this whirlwind of sensations was tearing at his sanity. Then he mewled as the angle changed and the hand between his legs pressed in cruelly, nails marking the insides of his thighs with shallow scratches.
His hands scrambled for purchase on the floor and sank into waves of hair. Mary. Mary Vetsera’s body was right in front of him. Bloodless and growing cold.
“Can you take control even of yourself?” So cruel, that voice, so pleasant. “Or will you break when I tell you to?”
Von Krolock’s body covered his, the cool lips exploring his bared neck. Fangs, barely a touch. Tongue. Pain. Pleasure.
“Now.”
Taught all his life to listen to his betters, Rudolf obeyed. His arms gave in, and he lay his head on the floor, his body twitching as the vampire took his pleasure in it. He waited for the bite.
Then all touches ceased, leaving him spilled on the floor. He looked up, dazed, at von Krolock, who was standing over him. Not one hair or button was out of place, nothing but Rudolf’s pain to indicate their encounter had happened at all.
Rudolf pressed his face to the floorboards.
“You said you’d give me what I want,” he whispered.
The rustle of clothes as the vampire walked around him. “You are hurt and unloved, young Prince. What I offer is hunger and damnation. I cannot give you the peace you need.”
Once he was alone in the room, Rudolf curled up against Mary’s prone body. He could feel her skin wasn’t as cold as he thought, so she was still alive, only bitten. At least she was bitten, he thought. Not like him, only good for- for-
Someone stroked his hair, and then he knew who it was. No-one else touched him like that.
Death was kneeling by Rudolf’s side. Death’s lips were curled back from his teeth, his eyes flashing as he pushed back Rudolf’s shirt again, exposing the marks of claws and fangs.
“If he weren’t outside my grasp, I’d take great pleasure in killing him,” Death snarled quietly.
Rudolf turned fully towards Death. “You came?”
“I told you, I’m your friend.” Death lowered himself to the floor, one arm wrapping around Rudolf’s shoulders. “When you need me, I’m there. I wish I’d been there earlier.”
“Friend...” Rudolf shook his head.
You are hurt and unloved. That deep voice echoing in his mind.
Rudolf arched up towards Death’s lips.
Death put his hand between their mouths, grinning when Rudolf whimpered. “Soon, Rudolf. Soon.”
Rudolf felt dizzy, light-headed, and when his hands moved erratically between them, Death didn’t protest. Instead, he arched his back, flashing Rudolf a bright smile, his own hands moving idly in Rudolf’s hair.
There was no pressure, but still Rudolf moved downwards, kissing Death’s skin instead of the lips that were denied to him, using his hands to deal with Death’s clothing before using his mouth.
This time, it came to him easily.
FIN
valancystar’s fault. She put up a clip of Jesper Tydén in leather as Rudolf Habsburg in Elisabeth, and my von Krolock decided he wanted to slide his hands around those hips. Then fyrie encouraged him. The rest is – nearly 3000 words of little but kinky crossover smut. All relevant information is given in the story though, except for the historical facts of Rudolf Habsburg and Mary Vetsera in Mayerling lodge.Fandom: Elisabeth/Tanz der Vampire/Historical
Rating: NC-17 with bells on
Warnings: Dubious consent, bloodplay, mild SM
Pairings: Von Krolock/Rudolf, Death/Rudolf
WANTING
Mayerling, January 29 1889
He tried to keep track of time, but the clock in the hallway was broken, stuck at five to midnight. Rudolf Habsburg turned away from it, stumbling over the carpets, knocking a boar’s head off the wall. Was it too late already, would his guest never come at all?
He laughed quietly. He was so much like a hostess, like Stephanie had been each time Mother came to visit, so anxious to impress and endear. Then again, it had taken three years to bring along this meeting – if there were to be a meeting at all – and maybe that excused him.
Had it been three years already, he wondered as he slumped against the balustrade at the bottom of the stairs. Three years ago, a book in Budapest, a sheaf of letters falling to the floor at his feet. His host’s paleness when he read the signature in the letters out loud.
Rudolf thought he should have brought the letters down with him after all. Then again, he could quote from them by heart now. It is the fate of the gentle mind to stare in wonder and in horror at the vicissitudes of history, but when I look to the future and see them worsen, I scent the blood of generations to come. They reach for me from beyond the cradle, fingers clawing at the one who could have nipped their suffering in the bud, but a mind too fragile and resolve too weak made him retreat into a scholar’s shell...
The Latin words written centuries before echoed Rudolf’s own thoughts so closely, so perfectly.
He knew His Majesty, Father, was suspicious of his recent actions, but for once Rudolf did not have rebellion in mind. Like the writer of the letters, he was searching for a way to go on, a way to join the shadows that gathered around him. It wasn’t his fault the path led him to Hungary again, to dark alleys and underground bars so similar to the ones his revolutionary-minded friends liked so much.
They come in the darkness, but the darkness gives me strength as well. If I become one with them, they will have care not to trifle with me. Mother of God, give me strength in the darkness...
They both turned to the Mother, Rudolf thought. The writer of the letters to Mary the Immaculate, he to Mama. Neither of them received answers.
He was at the door to the parlour now. It was closed, the way he’d left it, with the candlestick across the handles. He felt a sharp cold draught from under it, though the window had been closed when he left the room.
His hands slipped on the handles and the candlestick clattered to the floor.
Shadows. Shadows thrown by lamps, flickering, fractured. The mirrors behind each lamp had been delicately shattered, leaving all shards in their frames.
Rudolf looked straight ahead as he walked to the window. In the centre of the room, something rustled under his foot. Hair.
There were snowflakes on the inner sill. The ice crystals formed fern-like patterns on the glass.
“I’ve read your letters,” he started. His voice sounded empty, reedy in the vast parlour. “I found them in a book. You never thought anyone would read them, did you? Your mother was dead by then, I think.”
A rustle of cloth behind him? Was it his imagination?
“I tried to find out as much as I could about you,” Rudolf continued. “It’s just that your letters – it’s like reading my own diary. The shadows, the pain, the – what you said about ‘the duty to my blood that will not let me rest my bones in soft earth’, I have the same curse! I want to be a scholar, an explorer, but my father won’t let me! No-one will let me!”
His shout echoed around the room.
He leaned his forehead against the cold glass. “You’ve found a way to escape it all. I know you did. You survived it all. I,” he choked out, “I want the same. Please.”
Silence, then, and he thought it was all useless. Of course no-one came, because the Graf Johannes von Krolock had been buried for centuries, and the legends were only legends. And Mary was just drunk on wine and morphine as usual.
A line of pain at his nape. Sharp. He made a surprised, hurt sound.
“Rudolf Habsburg...”
A low voice, neither young nor old, the r’s as sharp and tingling as the blade at his neck. Rudolf stared desperately at the dark window, but the reflection showed only his face.
“Then you want eternity?”
“I want to be like you,” he whispered. “Please.”
“Many want our power and glory.” The sharp point moved down his spine, tugging his collar away. “If I gave it to anyone who asks, there would be more predators than prey. You are a naturalist, your Highness, so you understand why the numbers have to be limited.”
Rudolf wondered if the cold came from the window, or from behind him.
“Rudolf Habsburg,” the creature behind him hissed. “What are you willing to do for what you ask?”
“Anything,” Rudolf whispered. “Anything.”
There was a wordless hiss behind him. The lights flickered. For a moment, nothing touched him, and again he wondered if he was alone in the room.
The hands slid over his hips slowly. Rudolf did not see them in the window, but he felt them, and they were there when he looked down. Long white fingers tipped with monstrous sharp nails. A vampire’s hands.
He felt they were claiming him, taking control of his body, pulling him back a fraction until he rested against a broad chest. He wanted to scream, but all that emerged was a mewling sound.
He’d said he’d do anything.
“Hush,” the vampire whispered in his ear. “I need to taste your thoughts, young Prince. I need to know you and what you need.”
“What I want?” Rudolf whispered breathlessly.
“What you need.”
The hands clenched on his hips, the nails biting into his skin through the cloth. He’d never done this, never been with a man like this, and student fumblings did not count, nor did adolescent dreams of blond hair and laughing eyes, lips that promised to be near whenever needed, because that was his childhood madness, an imagined friendship with Death. He was the Prince, the Heir, and one did not do this, not with a man.
His hand moved back, touching the vampire’s thigh. He did not even know what the creature looked like, apart from the hands. For all he knew, Johannes von Krolock might be a monster now.
“Good,” von Krolock whispered in his ear.
There was a sweet, metallic scent in the air. Rudolf shivered, and the hands on his hips moved again, both soothing him and sending more shivers through his body.
He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Can I see you?”
“Yes.” The word was accompanied by a kiss to his ear, barely more than a touch of lips.
The hands slipped up to his waist, helping him turn. Rudolf wondered if he should close his eyes, but he didn’t.
Johannes von Krolock was forever stilled in the prime of his years, his body straight, his hair long and dark, his features noble. Rudolf glimpsed the reddened lips, but the eyes captured him. Pure black. Mesmerising.
He would have held his breath longer, but dark spots swirled across his vision. An arm slipped around his waist, holding him up. He clutched at von Krolock’s shoulder, and the vampire’s flesh was cold under the cloth.
He felt the nails at his nape again, but this time the touch was light as his head was tilted back. He remembered all the old tales about vampires drinking blood from their victims’ throats.
But von Krolock’s lips touched his own instead. Rudolf felt the tip of the vampire’s tongue, coaxing his mouth open, and he had said he would do anything, so he opened his mouth and held on to broad shoulders, barely flinching when he tasted the blood.
He was tasted thoroughly, then his head was pulled back. His throat was exposed, but von Krolock’s eyes were on his mouth still. Long fingers slipped between Rudolf’s lips, spreading them just as mercilessly. Cold, Rudolf thought, and slipped his tongue along one finger, almost cutting it on the fingernail.
There had been student fumbles once, and Rudolf had an idea about what he was offering when he closed his mouth around the fingers. His cheeks hollowed with the suction, and von Krolock’s eyes were darker than the shadows around them.
He no longer had support around his waist, and so he went down on his knees easily.
It was something else to watch it, even have it performed him on him by women (and that once, only once), than to attempt it himself, and his breath caught in his throat as he tried to steel himself. He pressed his cheek against von Krolock’s hip, trying to breathe slowly and evenly, and a hand ruffled his hair. So cold, so calm, and enticing him to turn his face. He had to prove himself worthy, useful, determined enough to be granted his wish.
Once he opened his eyes, he realised he’d been at least spared the indignity of fumbling with the vampire’s clothing, but the surge of gratitude only lasted for a moment. He couldn’t stop himself from shuddering, choking, his eyes watering as he tried to be true to his word. Anything, he’d said.
When von Krolock stepped away from him, Rudolf doubled over, almost sobbing with his shame. Unworthy-
Arms closed around him, pressing him to the vampire’s chest. He tried to struggle, but the grip was too strong. It was such an unfamiliar situation that Rudolf froze, breathing in the scent of candle wax and the barest hint of blood. A hand was moving on his back, stroking him gently, and he gradually relaxed into von Krolock’s hold. He tried to remember when he was last held like this, but his memory failed him. In his childhood, maybe, when everyone seemed as tall and overwhelming.
He’d wondered whether there was anything left in the vampire of the man that had written the letters, but now he felt a pervasive feeling of understanding. Magic, vampire magic, and how low had he fallen to find it comforting?
Low enough to lure a girl hardly out of childhood into his bed and to her death, he reminded himself. It didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered but this last hope for escape. One he’d just wasted.
“Hush, child,” von Krolock whispered in his ear. “You are only human. Let me taste your dreams.”
Rudolf was starting to enjoy the kisses. They seemed to leech all will from him, and with it the guilt and shame. He squirmed when the hands slipped lower, pressing him against the vampire again, baring the skin between his shirt and his belt.
But the belt was hanging open now. His breath caught again for a different reason as he was touched in strange places, and he arched his neck. There were cracks on the ceiling though he only had it repainted a year ago, and there were fangs at his throat, and he nearly wept.
Only a scrape against his throat, then somehow opening the top button of his shirt without leaving so much as an indentation on the fabric. Rudolf moved his hands over von Krolock’s shoulders, unsure what he should do. Then his wrists were caught, moved to his own chest, and he caressed himself as black eyes watched him without blinking.
It felt good, so he fumbled with the buttons until he could touch his own skin. Von Krolock caught his chin and leaned close again, closing Rudolf’s eyes with touches of his own lips.
Then silence. Suddenly, the room felt empty, and Rudolf gasped.
Before he could open his eyes, he felt von Krolock’s presence again, on his knees but behind Rudolf, pressing close. Hands on his hips again, this time on bare skin, and Rudolf looked down as the touch moved lower. He arched with a gasp, then his chin was seized and pulled back for a forceful kiss, and with the loss of balance he fell forward, catching himself on his hands.
Another pause, then a hand slipped under his body, caressing him firmly from throat to belly. Von Krolock’s fingers grasped Rudolf’s trousers and pushed them down. Rudolf fought the impulse to buck against that hand, or the other that was moving up from the back of his thigh. He didn’t need to, because the touches continued, and if some of it hurt, then he’d said he’d do anything. And it didn’t hurt that much, not when-
Then it did hurt, but von Krolock’s hands were on his hips once more, guiding him and soothing his trembling. Rudolf felt his eyes watering, and he bent his arms until his forehead was resting on the floor.
“I wish you could see how beautiful you look like that,” von Krolock murmured. “You are broken, young Prince. In everything you have touched, you have failed. You are to live your life for your family, yet if they saw you now, they would cast you out and curse your name.”
The scream caught in Rudolf’s throat. He lurched forward with the thrust, his muscles so tense it felt like his bones were being pulled apart.
“You have chosen the shadows, Rudolf Habsburg.” Von Krolock’s voice was low, melodious, caressing. “They hide your face and your body, but not from me. I can give you what you want, or what you need, or I can kill you in a heartbeat.”
The hand on Rudolf’s hip was curled into a claw, drawing blood that ran in stripes along his thigh. Rudolf whimpered with every thrust, arched with every spasm of pleasure.
“If I am to kill you,” von Krolock hissed in his ear, “you will learn to live with the shadows. Give into them. To pain and pleasure and the hunger that never dies.”
Rudolf thought blurrily that he might not survive that, judging by how much this whirlwind of sensations was tearing at his sanity. Then he mewled as the angle changed and the hand between his legs pressed in cruelly, nails marking the insides of his thighs with shallow scratches.
His hands scrambled for purchase on the floor and sank into waves of hair. Mary. Mary Vetsera’s body was right in front of him. Bloodless and growing cold.
“Can you take control even of yourself?” So cruel, that voice, so pleasant. “Or will you break when I tell you to?”
Von Krolock’s body covered his, the cool lips exploring his bared neck. Fangs, barely a touch. Tongue. Pain. Pleasure.
“Now.”
Taught all his life to listen to his betters, Rudolf obeyed. His arms gave in, and he lay his head on the floor, his body twitching as the vampire took his pleasure in it. He waited for the bite.
Then all touches ceased, leaving him spilled on the floor. He looked up, dazed, at von Krolock, who was standing over him. Not one hair or button was out of place, nothing but Rudolf’s pain to indicate their encounter had happened at all.
Rudolf pressed his face to the floorboards.
“You said you’d give me what I want,” he whispered.
The rustle of clothes as the vampire walked around him. “You are hurt and unloved, young Prince. What I offer is hunger and damnation. I cannot give you the peace you need.”
Once he was alone in the room, Rudolf curled up against Mary’s prone body. He could feel her skin wasn’t as cold as he thought, so she was still alive, only bitten. At least she was bitten, he thought. Not like him, only good for- for-
Someone stroked his hair, and then he knew who it was. No-one else touched him like that.
Death was kneeling by Rudolf’s side. Death’s lips were curled back from his teeth, his eyes flashing as he pushed back Rudolf’s shirt again, exposing the marks of claws and fangs.
“If he weren’t outside my grasp, I’d take great pleasure in killing him,” Death snarled quietly.
Rudolf turned fully towards Death. “You came?”
“I told you, I’m your friend.” Death lowered himself to the floor, one arm wrapping around Rudolf’s shoulders. “When you need me, I’m there. I wish I’d been there earlier.”
“Friend...” Rudolf shook his head.
You are hurt and unloved. That deep voice echoing in his mind.
Rudolf arched up towards Death’s lips.
Death put his hand between their mouths, grinning when Rudolf whimpered. “Soon, Rudolf. Soon.”
Rudolf felt dizzy, light-headed, and when his hands moved erratically between them, Death didn’t protest. Instead, he arched his back, flashing Rudolf a bright smile, his own hands moving idly in Rudolf’s hair.
There was no pressure, but still Rudolf moved downwards, kissing Death’s skin instead of the lips that were denied to him, using his hands to deal with Death’s clothing before using his mouth.
This time, it came to him easily.
FIN
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 06:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 06:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 06:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 06:24 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 06:28 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 06:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 06:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 06:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 06:39 pm (UTC)Also,
(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 06:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 06:54 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 06:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 06:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 07:00 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 07:00 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 07:09 pm (UTC)Oi. Mental image I don't need.
*shoos muses off to sleep*
(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 07:11 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 07:12 pm (UTC)*hides*
(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 08:22 pm (UTC)And of course this came while I'm at my father's and have people around me when I'm at the computer, which can be a little distracting. I'll have to reread it at a better time...
(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 08:27 pm (UTC)At least I think I've managed to chase the image of VK and Death together, mostly because after leering at each other they started arguing over who'd be on top and both stormed off in a huff.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-07 08:43 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-07 08:56 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-07 08:44 am (UTC)mostly because after leering at each other they started arguing over who'd be on top and both stormed off in a huff.
*giggles* I can just imagine.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-07 08:58 am (UTC)(Maki!Death, Vlad and Herbert, on the other point... gah. Because that, apparently, was what happened while they were watching the night's entertainment, viz, events of this fic in a crystal ball.)
Oh, and did you see? There's finally a bit of Maki's Death on Youtube: http://youtube.com/watch?v=-D4OodCRHlk
(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-07 09:12 am (UTC)Oh my. That'd be... interesting.
Gah! *beats the stupid computer which doesn't have speakers* I'll have to make Venefica let me use her computer when I visit her so I can watch and listen to things. Thanks for pointing that out, though. :-)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-06 09:55 pm (UTC)Btw, I looked at your journal and I'm wondering about your last entry - some words seem familiar. Could it be that you've discovered the joys of the Polish version of Tanz der Vampire? ;)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-07 08:59 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-07 08:43 am (UTC)Nice work..........
Date: 2006-10-07 01:50 am (UTC)Hush, child,” von Krolock whispered in his ear. “You are only human. Let me taste your dreams.”
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-09 08:41 pm (UTC)((assimbya told me I should have a look at your journal, by the way, after I had posted something my journal complaining about the lack of well written fan fic on the web. Clearly she didn't lead me astray.)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-11-10 06:15 am (UTC)