[Anderson is perfectly capable of withstanding both implements. He, indeed, wouldn't have offered otherwise. With a nod, he draws both floggers out of his cassock, one with thin, leather knotted thongs, and another with a steel handle and throngs with a denser thickness and metal throughout. He coils his hand around the end of each, giving them a stretch before offering the handles to Alucard.
They smell faintly of antiseptic, rather than flesh or blood. He's careful to clean them after use.]
I suppose we'll do it in here, unless you have a different preference.
[It's a little odd, to be doing this with help, but it ought to be easier than doing it on ones own. He glances around while he awaits Alucard's answer. There's a desk in here, which is convenient.]
[ for a moment he just sits. then he carefully, thoughtfully, takes off his gloves, flexing his fingers before he takes the offered handles. it's a small thing, but it's more personal without, at least in his opinion. slowly he unfurls, standing next to the bed and looking down at the dog. ]
Baskerville, out.
[ the dog lets out a low whine but behaves, trotting out of the room while giving them both a mournful look. he gives anderson a nod toward the door so he'll close it. ]
In here is fine.
[ he hasn't done anything like this in a long time, whether to himself or to someone else--all things said and done, even with his proclivities he's not the type to indulge in it whether sexually or not. his preference for violence during sexual encounters is feral, ripping, tearing, cutting, and his preference for violence non-sexually is 'all, as long as it's wild.'
so to be measured, a tool for penance, is... strange. unlike him, in any case, though he feels it suits their current situation. ]
[When Alucard removes his gloves, Anderson follows suit, peeling off his own and sliding them into a pocket. It would be silly to keep them on. It wouldn't be for Alucard, but- he gathers that this provides greater intimacy.
He closes the door with the toe of a boot before shrugging off his cassock, folding it neatly and placing it on the bedside table. It's followed by his clergy jacket, then his shirt, and finally his singlet, which are folded just as neatly and placed aside. The cross remains, of course, sitting flesh-warm on his sternum. He absentmindedly strokes the metal with a thumb as he returns to Alucard.]
There's no set number. Go for as long as you feel you need to.
[He stares at Alucard, and he's taken with the urge to touch him, strangely. Just touch him idly, unhurriedly, with their usual affection. But Alucard was insistent about not wanting to be touched by him when being kept captive, and it would probably be sensible to wait a little while before initiating anything.
He takes a step back and tilts his head toward the desk.]
I'll be saying some Hail Mary's, unless you want something else.
[ at home, he can't take off his gloves. is physically unable to. here it's--a gift, almost, to be able to touch the bare pads of his fingers to things. even if they're the grips of what are technically torture implements.
he takes a needless breath as he watches anderson prepare, canting his head aside--to see any expanse of skin is always a treat but it's different now, like this, and he still enjoys it but there's purpose to it, need.
when he speaks, his voice is low. ]
Say what you need. Don't let me dictate that.
[ even through everything, there's a certain edge of fondness in it. he nods toward the desk just afterward, waiting for the other man to get situated before he moves.
he stands behind the priest for a long moment, considering, moving close to run his knuckles along the length of his spine once before stepping back. since he's only going to use one at a time he sets first the metal one into the void inside him, which is just as clean as the cassock, thank you very much, and begins with the swift whip-crack of leather.
he doesn't say something, perhaps surprisingly, but he acts with the air of a man well-practiced in exactly this.
leather first, for pliancy, then metal to dig into the flesh properly, then leather again overtop. it will be interesting to see how it works on someone that heals so quickly, though.
he's not counting, and once he begins there's no hesitancy at all. this is beneficial to them both, after all. ]
[He plants his hands flat on the table, fingers spread, and hunches just a little. Enough to avoid having his head struck, though it's more force of habit than anything else; he isn't anticipating Alucard to make such a mistake. The man has impeccable aim with those guns of his and no doubt that'll extend to this as well.
A breath leaves him at the contact of Alucard's knuckles. It's a reminder of why they're doing this, why they need it. He turns his head to observe Alucard take position behind him, watching him in his peripheral vision, and only lets his gaze drop back to the surface of the desk at the first lift of the flogger.]
Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum-
[It's testament to his fortitude that he doesn't make a sound when the leather cracks down. The afflicted skin steadily begins to heal, but there's a mark or two lagging behind by the time the flogger is applied again, and Alucard might be able to overcome the healing, with enough persistence.
Either way, the sting reverberates through Anderson's body for far long than any marks.]
Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen.
[ to an extent, alucard wonders how much penance is actually required for causing harm to a vampire. surely that falls under some iscariot loophole. or something. far be it from him to question it though, when anderson is the first person to actively try to make reparations to him in over a century.
it means a lot to him, in a way he can't express. it's--about like when integra gave him his throne, when she gave him the autonomy to exist outside of his coffin even outside of missions.
importance.
he takes a breath he doesn't need to take as he watches, as he listens, and while he continues to not worry about count, every application of the flogger is measured and even, with overlapping application to indeed see if he can break past the healing threshold if he tries hard enough.
they're both men with incredible endurance and in a way he doesn't want the moment to end, though he's cognizant that's a selfish line of thought.
(who better to be selfish than dracula himself?)
still, he continues, not interrupting, only pausing when he wants to switch over, to see if there will be a different reaction to the chill and bite of metal against already-abused skin. ]
[It feels good, in a way. Cleansing. Stripping away a layer - mentally and physically - to render him shiny and new.
As Christ has undergone bodily suffering, you too should arm yourselves with the same conviction, that anyone who has undergone bodily suffering has broken with sin-
He needs this just as much as Alucard does. He wants it, so his prayer is steady and full of conviction. Even when his breathing becomes harsh and oppressive, he continues on, uttering each word one after the other and pausing between syllables where necessary. Sweat develops on the nape of his neck and it stings as it slides down his back and into the lingering welts.
It isn't until the metal bites into his skin that he lets out a sound. A low, short guttural sound that doesn't quite manage to end before the next strike. It's much easier to make these welts overlap: they dig deeper, stay longer. At some indeterminable point, his jaw falls open to accommodate harsh, whimpering breaths. This ones pain is much more difficult to take with his usual stoicism. He can feel blood gathering and sliding in slow rivulets down the length of his back, soaking into the black of his trousers. Which is a convenient colour for them to be, since blood can be damned hard to get out of fabrics.
Still, the prayer continues, a little more brittle than before but maintaining the same conviction. This is a good pain. For Alucard, for him, and for God.]
[ and so it continues. he knows anderson won't ask him to stop after he's offered this, but he's not so cruel (anymore) as to take advantage of that to an excess. still, it's satisfying: the sounds anderson eventually makes drag a shudder out of him between strikes, one he's glad the other man can't see.
he licks his lips when the blood trails and he should feel guilty for that but he doesn't; he just feels hungry, ravenous, wanting--but he refrains, and remembers, and eventually, eventually, he slows to a stop. he doesn't switch back to the leather, simply moves closer and gently, carefully, sets both floggers on the surface of the desk.
there's a brief moment of silence, of distance, before alucard's hand alights on anderson's shoulder, wanting to touch him but also carefully avoid the blood that's denied him--his lips brush the nape of his neck, just the once, but it's enough. ]
[His head droops when the strikes cease coming, his chin landing on his clavicle and the sweat beading at his hairline sliding down to his jaw. He takes several deep, needy breaths now that he doesn't have the shock of the blows to disrupt him. How many Hail Mary's was that? He can't remember. What he uttered was undoubtedly more than sufficient for penance, though.
He listens absently as Alucard approaches, his eyes drifting to the floggers as they're placed on the table. They're a little red, shiny. Going to need a thorough clean before Anderson puts them back in his cassock.
His thoughts are jarred from sanitary procedures when Alucard touches him. The chill soothes his heated skin and he makes a faint, appreciative sound and slants into his grip, his lips. Maybe he shouldn't press for more, but he feels a little threadbare and dazed after penance, particularly one of this intensity. He wants the proximity and the contact. He wants to feel more than just Alucard's lips.
When he speaks, the words are low and hoarse.]
You don't have to stop there. You can have- [A pause, and he finishes:] Me.
[The wording feels appropriate after he tried to take Alucard for himself, against his will.]
[ alucard soaks in the tiniest moments of affection like a desperate kind of sponge, and being allowed to touch so gently, especially after a penance like this, is enough to make him feel seen, wanted. which is what he wants: attention, good or bad, but good attention trumps bad always.
when anderson speaks he stills utterly, listening, contemplating how he should respond. anderson offered him many things when he was addled, when he was desperate, and alucard had staid his hand in the face of it, unwilling to breach the uneasy trust they share even in the face of--all of that.
but this is different, isn't it? he's clear of mind, they're here, and he's right--here.
his hands smooth down anderson's sides until they rest at his waist, not careful but fond, and his lips graze skin again, still where it's not been marred in the least. it's lower though, just a little--the scent of blood fills him and he lets out a low whine despite himself, soft and almost keening as he noses against the skin. ]
If--you're sure.
[ he's never been this measured, this well-behaved, this restrained. but his voice is soft, questioning, confirming. just in case he needs to clear his mind a little before. perhaps he's being too cautious, but he likes what they have in quiet moments too much to give it up now. ]
[One of his hands finds Alucard's fingers and folds over them, his palm hot and a little slick. There's nothing quite like a flogging to get ones blood pumping and body hot- and a little sensitive, if the longer contact managing to elicit a shudder is anything to go by. Every touch feels a little like it's rasping over raw nerves, but it's pleasant despite its overwhelming nature.
He has to pause at Alucard's whine. So wanting, yet he holds himself back to ensure he has Anderson's full consent. It prompts a swell of affection, surprising in its potency, and he laughs softly at himself, shaking his head. Feeling such things for his nemesis- what an absurdity, but he doesn't try to fight it back.
As Anderson speaks, his thumb brushes over Alucard's knuckles, affectionate. His voice is still hoarse, but moderately less so now that he's recovered some control over his laboured breathing.]
Call me a fool, but I want you to. [He swallows, licks his lips.] Just mind the teeth.
[They're not quite at the point of biting, yet. But this is still a significant submission, for a man like Anderson. To voluntarily feed a vampire opposes everything he is, everything he's been taught. It's printed on every cell- but Alucard's overlapping that with something else; he's not quite sure what, and despite having every reason not to be, he's willing.]
[ even though his participation wasn't in any way tactile to himself the grasp of anderson's hand very nearly makes him shiver--he's overwhelmed easily by small things like this, any granted touch that isn't abject punishment.
the laugh surprises him, but perhaps it shouldn't: it's just as absurd for him to be so held back, to carefully navigate this mine field in order to get permission where if they were fighting he could just rip out his throat with no remorse. things are... different like this, here in this place, and there's really no turning away from that.
at the comment, he smiles. ]
You're a fool, Alexander Anderson.
[ but there's a fondness here too, an idle sort of tease, like he's poking fun that anderson said it at all--they both know they're both fools for acting like this. and so: ]
So am I.
[ he doesn't bite. his teeth don't clip, or scrape, but he mouths over where blood has spilled, smearing it messily before his tongue darts out to lap it up between his shoulder blades. it burns and he lets out a rough groan against the skin, eager for both the taste and the pain as his grip at the priest's waist tightens somewhat.
he's waited so long, wanting, aching, that surely it can't be held against him that a little shudder wracks him as he runs his tongue slowly across each of the places he'd marked so briefly, like he can trace the marks that are no longer there. ]
[The worst of fools, these two. Enemies destined for the battlefield, for death, for hell- and yet here they are, indulging in the others company, exchanging intimacy. You don't get much more foolish than this.
His breaths go stuttering out when Alucard's lips slide over the spill of his blood, and the introduction of Alucard's cool, slick tongue elicits an even strong reaction, prompts him to shiver and hunch over, the muscles shifting in his back. The welts are long gone now, but there's still a lingering heat, a whisper of what was once there. His body remembers even if his flesh appears unmarred.
He can feel his blood burning and bubbling in Alucard's mouth. There would probably be steam rising up from heat-reddened skin if he turned to look. But Alucard's little groans and shudder clearly indicates that he's enjoying this feature of his blood. He's not surprised; it's exactly what he expected. Alucard's ever the masochist.
The fact this isn't a normal position for them to take doesn't escape Andeson's notice. When they're intimate, he's always facing Alucard, always able to touch as he pleases and kiss where he wants and take control, but he can't do that, right now, and there's a certain vulnerability to it. A vulnerability he doesn't mind, because he knows Alucard won't abuse it.
The hand he has curled over Alucard's guides it further around, over his hip and toward his abdomen. An encouragement for further contact, since that's what he can manage.]
[ is there any other way to put it but foolish? things are destined to end, one way or the other, but that doesn't mean what exists in the interim can't be good. perhaps it shouldn't be, but familiarity and obsession and need have fed into this, and it is what it is now: two fools doing foolish things together.
it burns when he swallows too, scalding his throat all the way down, and he revels in that too. it would heal instantly, of course, if he wasn't still so busily lapping up whatever blood he can get to. so the pain lingers, which he likes well enough, and when anderson guides his hand he allows it, hand pressing flat to his stomach and fingers spreading as the pads of them press down. hungry for blood as ever, but doubly so hungry for touch: his arm shifts of its own accord then as he urges his body close, arm fully coiling around him as he hunches forward to clean off more of his skin.
he's well aware of their positioning, and has no intention of abuse, no. all he intends is closeness, and want, and to make this moment linger as long as he can make it. he's also cognizant that he's still fully clothed, which is less of a hindrance than one would expect, but really it just means he's sort of thinking about that in context with their situation.
only when he's cleaned off every bit of skin he can easily reach like this does he straighten, mouthing once again over his nape as his tongue and mouth and throat heal over--there's a scrape of teeth but it promises affection, not a bite. ]
[There's a ravenous from both of them, in regard to touch. Anderson't pickier about it, high-maintenance; Alucard's the opposite, but it remains a quality that helps even out their numerous incongruities.
He encourages Alucard's hand further up when it coils around him, drawing it over his abdominal muscles and across the slope of his pectorals, close enough to his mouth so he can brush his lips over the pads of Alucard's fingers. He applies a light bite to them- and a much harder one when Alucard mouths over the nape of his neck, teeth scraping. It's not meant as a deterrent; it's simply in response to a shock of arousal, and he soothes his tongue over the bite marks after as way of reassuring him he didn't do anything Anderson didn't want. Quite the opposite, as evidenced by the swelling of his cock.
His free hand reaches behind and coils into whatever he can grab hold of, whatever clothes he can twist about his fingers, and he uses that grip to draw Alucard that little bit closer, close any remaining space between them. It would be nice if he could feel Alucard's skin, but he's not going to complain; he's enjoying the slide of his tongue and graze of his teeth well enough. He's dazed and shivering under just that.
The only sound between them is that produced by their contact between their bodies and Anderson's heavy breaths. Which are pleasant sounds, but Anderson decides to interrupt with a murmur:]
[ it's good that one of them is picky about it, since alucard is desperate for it to the point that he can't help himself. it's better like this though, in these situations, and he's coming to learn that he doesn't have to accept it from anywhere. which is progress, somehow.
the touch of lips to his fingers, the bites after--he shivers slightly, and by the time anderson pulls him in there's no space left to close: he's pressed flush against his back, urged as close as he possibly can, one hand lifting to coil fingers in his hair and tips his head aside so that he can press his lips to the side of his neck, beneath his ear, teeth barely catching his earlobe before he sucks with purpose at his pulse point, for a mark that will never linger but be satisfying nonetheless.
when anderson speaks he chuckles, dropping his chin to his shoulder and letting out a low hum. ]
[His healing ability has never been a hindrance to him prior. Now, however... he can't deny that there might have been a little truth to his desire to see them both marked in some manner, in some irrevocable way. To dig down into Alucard somewhere no one else ever has, and no one else ever will again and leave a piece of himself there, and have Alucard do the same to him- but they have to content themselves with this, because this is all their bodies afford them.
When Alucard's chin drops to his shoulder, he twists himself as best he can without dislodging their position and leans his face into him.]
Good.
[He folds his arm over the one draped about his midsection, keeping it in place. There's an extended silence before he speaks again.]
I wouldn't be opposed to doing it again. I probably should.
[ alucard hates being marked. he hates his hands, the way his seals look carved into them--he can still feel the searing blade in his flesh when he looks at them, reeking of alchemy and magic. but--a mutual means of marking would have been something he could stomach, something done willingly and knowingly to one another and not forced on him. he could like the idea of it, of carving himself into anderson and having the same done to him. it would suit them, wouldn't it? but even if they were depowered to do it, they would just heal over anything when it all came back. much like his gut wound when he'd left the fort had immediately healed when he returned to the city, despite previously being feverish, weak, with a bone-deep infection draining the very human life out of him.
a pity.
when anderson's face comes closer he grins, nipping idly at his jaw before brushing his lips across the same spot.
he's quietly surprised when anderson expresses an interest in doing it again, and his fingers grip a little more tightly to his hair before relenting.
when he speaks, it's a low rumble. ]
You know where to find me.
[ a joke, since they live together now. on top of that, he's fully aware that anderson still has the rib. he's aware of where all his body parts are at any given time. ]
[Well, there's hope for Anderson: he retained injuries he received prior to the regenerator trials, but he obviously hasn't had the opportunity to test if that would be the case were he depowered. It's not something that going to occur to him anytime soon- but one day, perhaps, at least one of them will be marked, and Anderson will always have that bone.
Provided Alucard doesn't ask for it back. But he hasn't yet, so prospects are looking promising.
He hums in appreciation when Alucard touches teeth and lips to his jaw, and he maintains the sound through the grip in his hair.]
Unfortunately.
[It's mildly said. A joke of his own, since they've reached a point where such comments are appropriate.
He turns a little more, managing an awkward, sloppy kiss, but it's the thought that counts.]
We're going to need to discuss some of those terms and conditions I put into place, at some point. Perhaps not now, but...
[Right now, they're a little otherwise occupied. Though some of those things really should be discussed.]
[ alucard has no intention of asking for it back: though, in a manner not actually selfish if one considers the situation leading up to it, he'd like some kind of token in return. he's given anderson a solid, tangible piece of himself that he's not going to get back, and after all he's been through lately he feels it's only fair that he gets something similar back.
but he's not going to ask for it. he wants an offer, and maybe that part is selfish.
he snorts at the joke, but doesn't seem put out by it--and he leans into the kiss a bit, not minding that it's sloppy at all, and presses closer against his back.
he shifts, but just enough to urge him to turn around so that alucard can press against his chest instead, voice a low and content rumble, practically a purr when he speaks. ]
Soon. Unless you'd like to interrupt current activities.
[ he dips his head, dragging his lips across anderson's collarbone pointedly. ]
[Would anyone have the fortitude to interrupt current activities after that? Anderson thinks himself a strong man, but he still slackens under the touch of Alucard's lips.
One of his hands drifts up into Alucard's hair, encouraging him to maintain the current path of his mouth, while the other slides down between them to graze along the lower regions on Alucard's navel.]
Need I tell you?
[There's more certainty to his touch. He's gone a little further with someone recently, traversed some foreign ground, so he's overcome a few of his reservations about intimacy.]
I was intimate with a woman recently. [That's an odd thing to announce, but it does have a purpose.] By which I mean, I'm- better prepared, to go further, if you're not opposed. If this is the time for it. I don't mind postponing if it isn't. Not out of any desire to, but all things considered-
[Every added word just made that worse, didn't it. He's glad Alucard currently can't see the pained expression on his face.
[ that was precisely his aim, to be as purposely distracting as possible. he doesn't want to talk about the new, absurd clauses, not right now, not when they've only just smoothed things over. because he knows there's a chance he'll get frustrated again, and--he doesn't want that. he's in a good mood for the first time in days and he wants to cling to that, to bend to the open request that he continue by scraping his teeth along the jut of bone with a hum, hips barely canting toward anderson's touch.
he does pause when anderson continues and he can't help the white-hot surge of jealousy that skitters through him: he never can, no matter how small the intimacy, because he's selfish, and covetous, and wants it all for himself. but he's--still going, and alucard gets the point, and he'd probably have an ill-advised laugh at his expression if he wasn't too busy running his tongue slowly along his skin.
the last comment just confirms that he doesn't need to be angry, anyway, or at least not openly incensed. he finally lifts his head and instead of answering at first he kisses him: hard, hungry, wanting. he presses into it fervently a moment before drawing back, looking at him with lids lowered somewhat. ]
In retrospect, a bit of a cruel stipulation to have added, but if you get to be selfish then so do I. [ a wry smile. ] That said, I've been more than ready for any amount of going further that you're prepared for since you beheaded me the first time.
[ yeah he's been horny on main for you for like 30 years dude let's not play. ]
[Those are some very effective distractions. Anderson's pliable beneath them, loosening even further, muscles visibly unwinding and eyes lidding. It renders him nice and soft for when Alucard brings their mouths together. His hand absently curls further into Alucard's hair while he presses back with a similar vigour; less hard, but no less hungry.
Why does it have to be you is still a lingering sentiment, but it's not as strong a sentiment as it once was, and there's an accompanying one of I want it to be you. A rather complicated co-existence, but that's their relationship on the whole.
He licks Alucard's lips as he withdraws, taking a much needed breath as Alucard speaks. And my, that's- quite the confession, yet not unexpected at all.]
So you've been wanting to commit desecration of a priest since the day we met. [He snorts, biting Alucard's bottom lip briefly, as though to chasten him.] You're a dreadful man.
[Evidently that's not of great concern to Anderson, since his other hand joins the one at Alucard's navel and pops the button of his trousers so he can reach beneath. He inhales sharply at the touch of skin. It's not quite what he was anticipating.]
And still no underwear. Dreadful.
[Not sincere in the least, judging by the downward trajectory of his fingers.]
[ he likes anderson like this just as much as he likes him on the battlefield: they're different, naturally, but both pleasurable to him. in different ways, naturally, though his wont is to categorize all types of his hunger as one encompassing need.
it's funny: being that he's desired this for so long already, had desires, wants, he's far less conflicted about it. he is surprised that anything like this has even remotely come to pass, but he's not about to question or complain about it in the least. for once in his damned existence, he's getting what he wants, even if it's any sort of intimacy with a priest who's vowed to kill him.
his lips part slightly when his lips are licked but then he's speaking so the moment is lost--until anderson replies and he huffs out a laugh, pressing into the bite with a merry expression. ] I like to aim high, reach for the impossible.
[ he says it like he's being sly, but really, that's true: anderson was always untouchable, and integra still is. his two great obsessions.
his head tips down to watch what those hands are doing and he exhales needlessly as soon as his fingers find skin, and he bites the inside of his cheek when they delve lower. ]
What can I say? I'm easy. I started wearing some when I was anticipating being close to you, just in case, but we'll just say I didn't exactly anticipate that today.
[ god, it's parsed as a joke, but it's true. he is easy. however, realistically anderson is the only person he's outright pursued for this long, and certainly the only person he's been this patient for. even rip had let him sleep with her on his first day in the city, terrified of him as she was.
this slow burn is somehow that much more satisfying than her instantly rolling over for him, and he's unfamiliar with that feeling--but he likes it. ]
[Slow burn is inevitable when your partner happens to be a high-maintenance catholic priest deadset on killing you. Which isn't such a bad thing, evidently.
He has to snort at Alucard's comment. He's not exactly well-informed of Alucard's sex life (though now that they're sharing a residence, he may end up with more insight than he wants), but he's gathered from the stray comment that he's a predictably indulgent man. That's to be expected when you're over five hundred years old and starved for affection.]
The one time it's convenient for me.
I still- don't exactly know what I'm doing, just so you're aware, but I imagine the basic principles of touching a man and woman are similar.
[Okay, he's not entirely prepared, here, but what's important is he's overcome the hardest part: getting started.
His reach slows the closer he gets to Alucard's cock. Tentative, now, but steadfast. He pushes the trousers further out of the way, then carefully coils his fingers around the thick of Alucard's cock, glancing up to Alucard to make sure his progress is appreciated, isn't uncomfortable.
It's a little strange, the sensation of holding another man's arousal, particularly one so cool; it's not something he ever imagined he would be doing, but this contact alone manages to get him hot and bothered, so clearly this is going to be an agreeable experience.]
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no subject
They smell faintly of antiseptic, rather than flesh or blood. He's careful to clean them after use.]
I suppose we'll do it in here, unless you have a different preference.
[It's a little odd, to be doing this with help, but it ought to be easier than doing it on ones own. He glances around while he awaits Alucard's answer. There's a desk in here, which is convenient.]
no subject
Baskerville, out.
[ the dog lets out a low whine but behaves, trotting out of the room while giving them both a mournful look. he gives anderson a nod toward the door so he'll close it. ]
In here is fine.
[ he hasn't done anything like this in a long time, whether to himself or to someone else--all things said and done, even with his proclivities he's not the type to indulge in it whether sexually or not. his preference for violence during sexual encounters is feral, ripping, tearing, cutting, and his preference for violence non-sexually is 'all, as long as it's wild.'
so to be measured, a tool for penance, is... strange. unlike him, in any case, though he feels it suits their current situation. ]
no subject
He closes the door with the toe of a boot before shrugging off his cassock, folding it neatly and placing it on the bedside table. It's followed by his clergy jacket, then his shirt, and finally his singlet, which are folded just as neatly and placed aside. The cross remains, of course, sitting flesh-warm on his sternum. He absentmindedly strokes the metal with a thumb as he returns to Alucard.]
There's no set number. Go for as long as you feel you need to.
[He stares at Alucard, and he's taken with the urge to touch him, strangely. Just touch him idly, unhurriedly, with their usual affection. But Alucard was insistent about not wanting to be touched by him when being kept captive, and it would probably be sensible to wait a little while before initiating anything.
He takes a step back and tilts his head toward the desk.]
I'll be saying some Hail Mary's, unless you want something else.
no subject
he takes a needless breath as he watches anderson prepare, canting his head aside--to see any expanse of skin is always a treat but it's different now, like this, and he still enjoys it but there's purpose to it, need.
when he speaks, his voice is low. ]
Say what you need. Don't let me dictate that.
[ even through everything, there's a certain edge of fondness in it. he nods toward the desk just afterward, waiting for the other man to get situated before he moves.
he stands behind the priest for a long moment, considering, moving close to run his knuckles along the length of his spine once before stepping back. since he's only going to use one at a time he sets first the metal one into the void inside him, which is just as clean as the cassock, thank you very much, and begins with the swift whip-crack of leather.
he doesn't say something, perhaps surprisingly, but he acts with the air of a man well-practiced in exactly this.
leather first, for pliancy, then metal to dig into the flesh properly, then leather again overtop. it will be interesting to see how it works on someone that heals so quickly, though.
he's not counting, and once he begins there's no hesitancy at all. this is beneficial to them both, after all. ]
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A breath leaves him at the contact of Alucard's knuckles. It's a reminder of why they're doing this, why they need it. He turns his head to observe Alucard take position behind him, watching him in his peripheral vision, and only lets his gaze drop back to the surface of the desk at the first lift of the flogger.]
Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum-
[It's testament to his fortitude that he doesn't make a sound when the leather cracks down. The afflicted skin steadily begins to heal, but there's a mark or two lagging behind by the time the flogger is applied again, and Alucard might be able to overcome the healing, with enough persistence.
Either way, the sting reverberates through Anderson's body for far long than any marks.]
Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus. Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen.
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it means a lot to him, in a way he can't express. it's--about like when integra gave him his throne, when she gave him the autonomy to exist outside of his coffin even outside of missions.
importance.
he takes a breath he doesn't need to take as he watches, as he listens, and while he continues to not worry about count, every application of the flogger is measured and even, with overlapping application to indeed see if he can break past the healing threshold if he tries hard enough.
they're both men with incredible endurance and in a way he doesn't want the moment to end, though he's cognizant that's a selfish line of thought.
(who better to be selfish than dracula himself?)
still, he continues, not interrupting, only pausing when he wants to switch over, to see if there will be a different reaction to the chill and bite of metal against already-abused skin. ]
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As Christ has undergone bodily suffering, you too should arm yourselves with the same conviction, that anyone who has undergone bodily suffering has broken with sin-
He needs this just as much as Alucard does. He wants it, so his prayer is steady and full of conviction. Even when his breathing becomes harsh and oppressive, he continues on, uttering each word one after the other and pausing between syllables where necessary. Sweat develops on the nape of his neck and it stings as it slides down his back and into the lingering welts.
It isn't until the metal bites into his skin that he lets out a sound. A low, short guttural sound that doesn't quite manage to end before the next strike. It's much easier to make these welts overlap: they dig deeper, stay longer. At some indeterminable point, his jaw falls open to accommodate harsh, whimpering breaths. This ones pain is much more difficult to take with his usual stoicism. He can feel blood gathering and sliding in slow rivulets down the length of his back, soaking into the black of his trousers. Which is a convenient colour for them to be, since blood can be damned hard to get out of fabrics.
Still, the prayer continues, a little more brittle than before but maintaining the same conviction. This is a good pain. For Alucard, for him, and for God.]
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he licks his lips when the blood trails and he should feel guilty for that but he doesn't; he just feels hungry, ravenous, wanting--but he refrains, and remembers, and eventually, eventually, he slows to a stop. he doesn't switch back to the leather, simply moves closer and gently, carefully, sets both floggers on the surface of the desk.
there's a brief moment of silence, of distance, before alucard's hand alights on anderson's shoulder, wanting to touch him but also carefully avoid the blood that's denied him--his lips brush the nape of his neck, just the once, but it's enough. ]
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He listens absently as Alucard approaches, his eyes drifting to the floggers as they're placed on the table. They're a little red, shiny. Going to need a thorough clean before Anderson puts them back in his cassock.
His thoughts are jarred from sanitary procedures when Alucard touches him. The chill soothes his heated skin and he makes a faint, appreciative sound and slants into his grip, his lips. Maybe he shouldn't press for more, but he feels a little threadbare and dazed after penance, particularly one of this intensity. He wants the proximity and the contact. He wants to feel more than just Alucard's lips.
When he speaks, the words are low and hoarse.]
You don't have to stop there. You can have- [A pause, and he finishes:] Me.
[The wording feels appropriate after he tried to take Alucard for himself, against his will.]
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when anderson speaks he stills utterly, listening, contemplating how he should respond. anderson offered him many things when he was addled, when he was desperate, and alucard had staid his hand in the face of it, unwilling to breach the uneasy trust they share even in the face of--all of that.
but this is different, isn't it? he's clear of mind, they're here, and he's right--here.
his hands smooth down anderson's sides until they rest at his waist, not careful but fond, and his lips graze skin again, still where it's not been marred in the least. it's lower though, just a little--the scent of blood fills him and he lets out a low whine despite himself, soft and almost keening as he noses against the skin. ]
If--you're sure.
[ he's never been this measured, this well-behaved, this restrained. but his voice is soft, questioning, confirming. just in case he needs to clear his mind a little before. perhaps he's being too cautious, but he likes what they have in quiet moments too much to give it up now. ]
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He has to pause at Alucard's whine. So wanting, yet he holds himself back to ensure he has Anderson's full consent. It prompts a swell of affection, surprising in its potency, and he laughs softly at himself, shaking his head. Feeling such things for his nemesis- what an absurdity, but he doesn't try to fight it back.
As Anderson speaks, his thumb brushes over Alucard's knuckles, affectionate. His voice is still hoarse, but moderately less so now that he's recovered some control over his laboured breathing.]
Call me a fool, but I want you to. [He swallows, licks his lips.] Just mind the teeth.
[They're not quite at the point of biting, yet. But this is still a significant submission, for a man like Anderson. To voluntarily feed a vampire opposes everything he is, everything he's been taught. It's printed on every cell- but Alucard's overlapping that with something else; he's not quite sure what, and despite having every reason not to be, he's willing.]
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the laugh surprises him, but perhaps it shouldn't: it's just as absurd for him to be so held back, to carefully navigate this mine field in order to get permission where if they were fighting he could just rip out his throat with no remorse. things are... different like this, here in this place, and there's really no turning away from that.
at the comment, he smiles. ]
You're a fool, Alexander Anderson.
[ but there's a fondness here too, an idle sort of tease, like he's poking fun that anderson said it at all--they both know they're both fools for acting like this. and so: ]
So am I.
[ he doesn't bite. his teeth don't clip, or scrape, but he mouths over where blood has spilled, smearing it messily before his tongue darts out to lap it up between his shoulder blades. it burns and he lets out a rough groan against the skin, eager for both the taste and the pain as his grip at the priest's waist tightens somewhat.
he's waited so long, wanting, aching, that surely it can't be held against him that a little shudder wracks him as he runs his tongue slowly across each of the places he'd marked so briefly, like he can trace the marks that are no longer there. ]
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His breaths go stuttering out when Alucard's lips slide over the spill of his blood, and the introduction of Alucard's cool, slick tongue elicits an even strong reaction, prompts him to shiver and hunch over, the muscles shifting in his back. The welts are long gone now, but there's still a lingering heat, a whisper of what was once there. His body remembers even if his flesh appears unmarred.
He can feel his blood burning and bubbling in Alucard's mouth. There would probably be steam rising up from heat-reddened skin if he turned to look. But Alucard's little groans and shudder clearly indicates that he's enjoying this feature of his blood. He's not surprised; it's exactly what he expected. Alucard's ever the masochist.
The fact this isn't a normal position for them to take doesn't escape Andeson's notice. When they're intimate, he's always facing Alucard, always able to touch as he pleases and kiss where he wants and take control, but he can't do that, right now, and there's a certain vulnerability to it. A vulnerability he doesn't mind, because he knows Alucard won't abuse it.
The hand he has curled over Alucard's guides it further around, over his hip and toward his abdomen. An encouragement for further contact, since that's what he can manage.]
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it burns when he swallows too, scalding his throat all the way down, and he revels in that too. it would heal instantly, of course, if he wasn't still so busily lapping up whatever blood he can get to. so the pain lingers, which he likes well enough, and when anderson guides his hand he allows it, hand pressing flat to his stomach and fingers spreading as the pads of them press down. hungry for blood as ever, but doubly so hungry for touch: his arm shifts of its own accord then as he urges his body close, arm fully coiling around him as he hunches forward to clean off more of his skin.
he's well aware of their positioning, and has no intention of abuse, no. all he intends is closeness, and want, and to make this moment linger as long as he can make it. he's also cognizant that he's still fully clothed, which is less of a hindrance than one would expect, but really it just means he's sort of thinking about that in context with their situation.
only when he's cleaned off every bit of skin he can easily reach like this does he straighten, mouthing once again over his nape as his tongue and mouth and throat heal over--there's a scrape of teeth but it promises affection, not a bite. ]
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He encourages Alucard's hand further up when it coils around him, drawing it over his abdominal muscles and across the slope of his pectorals, close enough to his mouth so he can brush his lips over the pads of Alucard's fingers. He applies a light bite to them- and a much harder one when Alucard mouths over the nape of his neck, teeth scraping. It's not meant as a deterrent; it's simply in response to a shock of arousal, and he soothes his tongue over the bite marks after as way of reassuring him he didn't do anything Anderson didn't want. Quite the opposite, as evidenced by the swelling of his cock.
His free hand reaches behind and coils into whatever he can grab hold of, whatever clothes he can twist about his fingers, and he uses that grip to draw Alucard that little bit closer, close any remaining space between them. It would be nice if he could feel Alucard's skin, but he's not going to complain; he's enjoying the slide of his tongue and graze of his teeth well enough. He's dazed and shivering under just that.
The only sound between them is that produced by their contact between their bodies and Anderson's heavy breaths. Which are pleasant sounds, but Anderson decides to interrupt with a murmur:]
'Spose this means my reparations were successful.
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the touch of lips to his fingers, the bites after--he shivers slightly, and by the time anderson pulls him in there's no space left to close: he's pressed flush against his back, urged as close as he possibly can, one hand lifting to coil fingers in his hair and tips his head aside so that he can press his lips to the side of his neck, beneath his ear, teeth barely catching his earlobe before he sucks with purpose at his pulse point, for a mark that will never linger but be satisfying nonetheless.
when anderson speaks he chuckles, dropping his chin to his shoulder and letting out a low hum. ]
I'd say so, yes.
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When Alucard's chin drops to his shoulder, he twists himself as best he can without dislodging their position and leans his face into him.]
Good.
[He folds his arm over the one draped about his midsection, keeping it in place. There's an extended silence before he speaks again.]
I wouldn't be opposed to doing it again. I probably should.
[He still has that damn rib.]
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a pity.
when anderson's face comes closer he grins, nipping idly at his jaw before brushing his lips across the same spot.
he's quietly surprised when anderson expresses an interest in doing it again, and his fingers grip a little more tightly to his hair before relenting.
when he speaks, it's a low rumble. ]
You know where to find me.
[ a joke, since they live together now. on top of that, he's fully aware that anderson still has the rib. he's aware of where all his body parts are at any given time. ]
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Provided Alucard doesn't ask for it back. But he hasn't yet, so prospects are looking promising.
He hums in appreciation when Alucard touches teeth and lips to his jaw, and he maintains the sound through the grip in his hair.]
Unfortunately.
[It's mildly said. A joke of his own, since they've reached a point where such comments are appropriate.
He turns a little more, managing an awkward, sloppy kiss, but it's the thought that counts.]
We're going to need to discuss some of those terms and conditions I put into place, at some point. Perhaps not now, but...
[Right now, they're a little otherwise occupied. Though some of those things really should be discussed.]
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but he's not going to ask for it. he wants an offer, and maybe that part is selfish.
he snorts at the joke, but doesn't seem put out by it--and he leans into the kiss a bit, not minding that it's sloppy at all, and presses closer against his back.
he shifts, but just enough to urge him to turn around so that alucard can press against his chest instead, voice a low and content rumble, practically a purr when he speaks. ]
Soon. Unless you'd like to interrupt current activities.
[ he dips his head, dragging his lips across anderson's collarbone pointedly. ]
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One of his hands drifts up into Alucard's hair, encouraging him to maintain the current path of his mouth, while the other slides down between them to graze along the lower regions on Alucard's navel.]
Need I tell you?
[There's more certainty to his touch. He's gone a little further with someone recently, traversed some foreign ground, so he's overcome a few of his reservations about intimacy.]
I was intimate with a woman recently. [That's an odd thing to announce, but it does have a purpose.] By which I mean, I'm- better prepared, to go further, if you're not opposed. If this is the time for it. I don't mind postponing if it isn't. Not out of any desire to, but all things considered-
[Every added word just made that worse, didn't it. He's glad Alucard currently can't see the pained expression on his face.
A pause, and he adds:]
I didn't break the terms of our contract.
[Just to be clear.]
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he does pause when anderson continues and he can't help the white-hot surge of jealousy that skitters through him: he never can, no matter how small the intimacy, because he's selfish, and covetous, and wants it all for himself. but he's--still going, and alucard gets the point, and he'd probably have an ill-advised laugh at his expression if he wasn't too busy running his tongue slowly along his skin.
the last comment just confirms that he doesn't need to be angry, anyway, or at least not openly incensed. he finally lifts his head and instead of answering at first he kisses him: hard, hungry, wanting. he presses into it fervently a moment before drawing back, looking at him with lids lowered somewhat. ]
In retrospect, a bit of a cruel stipulation to have added, but if you get to be selfish then so do I. [ a wry smile. ] That said, I've been more than ready for any amount of going further that you're prepared for since you beheaded me the first time.
[ yeah he's been horny on main for you for like 30 years dude let's not play. ]
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Why does it have to be you is still a lingering sentiment, but it's not as strong a sentiment as it once was, and there's an accompanying one of I want it to be you. A rather complicated co-existence, but that's their relationship on the whole.
He licks Alucard's lips as he withdraws, taking a much needed breath as Alucard speaks. And my, that's- quite the confession, yet not unexpected at all.]
So you've been wanting to commit desecration of a priest since the day we met. [He snorts, biting Alucard's bottom lip briefly, as though to chasten him.] You're a dreadful man.
[Evidently that's not of great concern to Anderson, since his other hand joins the one at Alucard's navel and pops the button of his trousers so he can reach beneath. He inhales sharply at the touch of skin. It's not quite what he was anticipating.]
And still no underwear. Dreadful.
[Not sincere in the least, judging by the downward trajectory of his fingers.]
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it's funny: being that he's desired this for so long already, had desires, wants, he's far less conflicted about it. he is surprised that anything like this has even remotely come to pass, but he's not about to question or complain about it in the least. for once in his damned existence, he's getting what he wants, even if it's any sort of intimacy with a priest who's vowed to kill him.
his lips part slightly when his lips are licked but then he's speaking so the moment is lost--until anderson replies and he huffs out a laugh, pressing into the bite with a merry expression. ] I like to aim high, reach for the impossible.
[ he says it like he's being sly, but really, that's true: anderson was always untouchable, and integra still is. his two great obsessions.
his head tips down to watch what those hands are doing and he exhales needlessly as soon as his fingers find skin, and he bites the inside of his cheek when they delve lower. ]
What can I say? I'm easy. I started wearing some when I was anticipating being close to you, just in case, but we'll just say I didn't exactly anticipate that today.
[ god, it's parsed as a joke, but it's true. he is easy. however, realistically anderson is the only person he's outright pursued for this long, and certainly the only person he's been this patient for. even rip had let him sleep with her on his first day in the city, terrified of him as she was.
this slow burn is somehow that much more satisfying than her instantly rolling over for him, and he's unfamiliar with that feeling--but he likes it. ]
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He has to snort at Alucard's comment. He's not exactly well-informed of Alucard's sex life (though now that they're sharing a residence, he may end up with more insight than he wants), but he's gathered from the stray comment that he's a predictably indulgent man. That's to be expected when you're over five hundred years old and starved for affection.]
The one time it's convenient for me.
I still- don't exactly know what I'm doing, just so you're aware, but I imagine the basic principles of touching a man and woman are similar.
[Okay, he's not entirely prepared, here, but what's important is he's overcome the hardest part: getting started.
His reach slows the closer he gets to Alucard's cock. Tentative, now, but steadfast. He pushes the trousers further out of the way, then carefully coils his fingers around the thick of Alucard's cock, glancing up to Alucard to make sure his progress is appreciated, isn't uncomfortable.
It's a little strange, the sensation of holding another man's arousal, particularly one so cool; it's not something he ever imagined he would be doing, but this contact alone manages to get him hot and bothered, so clearly this is going to be an agreeable experience.]
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