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The council chambers were full with both the visiting councils, and the councils in residence- the Grand Coven of the Wicca, and the Council of Elders of the Vampires were both in full attendance, although there was no real need; with the further presence of the full Lunar Council of the Werewolves and High Council of the Humans, the council chambers was packed nearly wall to wall. Viren stepped aside to avoid being shoved over by the sweeping gesture of one of the emissaries of the Werewolves, sighing. Every year, just around the Solstices the other races started to show an interest in castle affairs. It was only because they wanted to be invited to the festivities – which of course they were, but it made everything so chaotic. So busy, and the enchantments that he and the rest of the Grand Coven would be renewing in a few short weeks were delicate things that would do much better with a little peace and quiet.

In the din of the crowded room, Viren never heard him approach;

“Hello little witch,” whispered King Harrow of the Vampires, his warm breath raising the hairs on the back of Viren’s neck.

Viren covered the back of his neck with a scowl, twisting away.

“Warlock.” he snapped, careful to keep his voice down. The Vampire watched him with a smirk, green eyes half lidded in easy amusement.

“You scuttle away awfully quickly for one with such a grievous injury,” King Harrow noted, seeming perfectly content to follow him at pace as Viren cut his way through the crowd away from him. Viren’s metal staff struck the floor a bit harder on his next step, the high metal ring carrying over the noise in the room.

People nearest them paused, looking in askance at Viren and the Vampire King. Viren lifted his chin, offering Harrow a tight lipped smile and slowed to allow the Vampire to walk with him. No scene to be made, those watching turned away again, and Viren quickly picked up his pace again, determined to be away from this infernal man.

“Nonsense, majesty, it was not such a grave injury that I cannot move with haste, should it be called for.” He said with frosty formality, waiting just long enough for the Vampire to catch his stride, before continuing his way across the room. He could lose him in the crowd, if he needed to.  However, the Vampire seemed to be onto his plan, and stuck to his side. Resisting the urge to grit his teeth- Harrow would hear it- Viren let his pace slow, until they both came to a natural halt at the edge of the gathering.

“King Harrow,” he greeted properly.

“High Warlock Viren,” Harrow’s eyes sparkled like gems, catching the light and seeming to throw it back in a way that wanted to ensnare Viren’s gaze. Viren turned away with a tsk, waving a hand. A tiny puff of pure magic was all it took to shatter the Vampire’s allure, and Harrow leaned back with a laugh. He was still a devastatingly handsome man, but the otherworldly edge was gone.

Harrow finally took a step back, out of Viren’s space, and the Warlock felt like he could breathe again. The Vampire had the most suffocating presence of anyone he’d ever met.

“You are always so determined not to be alone with me, little witch. I would say it hurts, but I’m afraid I never get enough time with you to truly know your presence.” The Vampire’s voice was a warm purr, too close again as he stepped into Viren’s space, the edges of his fine silk cloak brushing against the sides of the High Warlock’s legs.

Viren bristled and stepped back again, irritated that Harrow couldn’t find his amusements somewhere else. He toyed with him like a bored cat toyed with a mouse, letting him get almost away, only to scoop him close again and trap him by social etiquette into the same conversation every single time.

Little witch, the Vampire would whisper, from far too close, and far too hot, and Viren would have to struggle with his composure. The stupid insult was so juvenile, so far below both their stations, and yet in got under his skin so effectively. The words clawed their way under his skin on Harrow’s hot breath, caused him to squirm in a way that he tried to tell himself was his skin crawling.

But Viren knew, it was the the promise the words, the little flush of twofold embarrassment that rose up his neck, caused by Harrow’s childish jabs, and the strange heat they brought forth under his skin. And so Viren was always quick to step away, to shoot insults back, and to cover up the way Harrow’s very presence seemed to make his heart pound.

After three years as High Warlock of the Wicca Grand Coven, and numerous pointless encounters with King Harrow, Viren was beginning to suspect the Vampire knew exactly what he was doing. It added a layer to this game of theirs that he did not like at all.

And yet, the dark parts of him seemed to perversely crave some sort of cruelty from the man- and shivered in delight every time he thought about it; Harrow, savouring his embarrassment, humiliating him in public because he knew Viren liked it.

Viren cut the thought off before it could go any farther, but his face was already burning from the very idea. Harrow was studying him with those far too observant eyes from far too close, a small smile playing across his face. He’d worn his hair down for the meeting, and his gold bound locks lay like tamed shadows along his shoulders.

Dimly, Viren was aware of the wrongness, but couldn’t help but stare. He was a beautiful man, dark as gilded sunset and taller then Viren in the boots by barely an inch, but enough to look down on him, and it felt like a gulf between them, a sinking swirling wake of dark water and Viren was being pulled in-

“Enough of that, I think.” Said Opeli briskly, snapping her fingers in front of Viren’s eyes. The allure shattered like glass under the touch of the High Witch.

Just like that, Harrow was a man again, not a beautiful sculpture made of shadow and dark water and gold kissed sunlight. Viren narrowed his eyes in annoyance, unable to believe this – this infernal  man had tried the same trick twice. Humiliation burned hotly in his chest; and it worked, whispered that traitor part of him, basking in Harrow’s self satisfied smile.

The Vampire touched his face with the back of his fingers, and Viren jerked away from the touch out of instinct, blunt teeth bared in a warning snarl. Harrow might have gotten Viren flustered and off balance, heat of uncomfortable desire simmering under his skin, but Viren would be damned if he let that stop him from taking the insult of casting allure on another council member out of Harrow’s very skin. It was a blatant insult, and it had been witnessed.  

“Red is such a nice colour on you,” smirked the King, before stepping back. His cloak fluttered like it had a life of its own, and Viren knew he only had this opportunity to retreat; if he stayed, Harrow would only humiliate him again. He turned away from them both, stalking out of the council chambers as quickly as he could manage, leaving Opeli to deal with King Harrow.

It was a hard night for Viren. There were duties he needed to perform, but all of them would take him far too close to the quarters of the very person he was so desperate to avoid. However, there was only so long he could put them off; the Samhain festival was right around the corner, and there was still so much to do! The title High Warlock came with the duties of leading their people through the ceremonies that had defined them for millennia, the harnessing of the wild magic that ran through their veins and channeling it into the lands of Katolis and the surrounding kingdoms. Tomorrow night he would rips the magic from the edges of Xadia and give it to the magic parched Human lands, replenish the resources of the four races, and fill the reserves for the next wave of the great war. As it had been for a thousand years, and as it was likely to be for a thousand more.

The bonfires would be lit, the other races would make merry, and in the hedge circles and places of power wicca would gather and give their aid to the Grand Coven in their solemn task. Once upon a time, this had been a sacred right, and not an act of war; but war changed everything. They had known what they were doing, throwing their lot in with the Humans, all those years ago.

They may have inherited this war, but he trusted his ancestors’ choices, and he trusted his Goddess. Until the day she forsook his people, he would continue the Samhain rituals.

Sighing, Viren gathered his finalized notes, and steeled himself. He really could not afford to put this off, regardless of the looming threat of running into Harrow in the hallways; or more likely, Harrow hunting him down. There were fires to light, bones to bury, and spells that needed to be started. He was already cutting it far too close; Opeli was going to be furious.

He slid out quietly into the hall, staff in the crook of his elbow, a twine bound stack of notes interspersed with spell ingredients held between the shining silver metal and his chest.  Too preoccupied with fumbling his wardkey into place, Viren didn’t notice the shadow sliding along the wall until it was upon him.

Viren gasped as King Harrow pressed tight to his back, reaching over his shoulder to lift Viren’s carved ward free of his suddenly numb fingers, and slid it into place. There was a soft buzz as the ward went up, and then all Viren could hear was the race of his own heart.

Harrow was incredibly warm, overwhelmingly so. All the myths made it out like Vampires were cold blooded creatures of the night, but Harrow felt like he’d been lounging out in the sunlight all day long- he very might well have been, for as long as he’d known him, Viren had never seen Harrow have any issues with sunlight.

He was too hot. Between the sudden boiling of his own blood, and the furnace that still stood firm against his back, Viren felt like he needed to pant, to gasp for breath.

He didn’t. He had more than enough pride not to turn into a mewling, panting animal at Harrow’s slightest touch.  He grit his teeth, and shot a look of pure venom over his shoulder.

“Could you move?” Viren asked tightly.

Harrow seemed to consider it.

“I could,” he answered lightly.

His second hand joined the first on the door, caging Viren in.

“Better?” asked Harrow, voice pitched low and soft, right against the back of Viren’s ear. He shivered despite himself. He shifted his weight, but there really was nowhere for him to go; the options were limited, play Harrow’s game, or start a fight when he really didn’t have time. Odds were at least in his favour- with this much sage and cedar on his clothes from spell preparations, it would be impossible for Harrow to smell the disgusting arousal that Viren couldn’t squash.  Viren let his head drop, angling his face so Harrow couldn’t see it.

“Let me go, Harrow. I’m running late.” He said softly, staring at his hand underneath Harrow’s on the ward lock. The Vampire hadn’t returned his ward key yet, so even if he hadn’t pinned him, it wasn’t like Viren could leave. He wasn’t about to give him a free pass into his work space. Even a half decent Wicca could copy a ward key, and no one would think to question the Vampire King if he approached them.

“Surely you can spare a moment for another Council member,” Harrow’s beard brushed against the shell of his ear, and his hot breath washed over Viren as he purred, “Little witch?”

Viren couldn’t hide the way it made him shiver, press back into Harrow before he could stop himself- he jerked away again immediately, flattening himself to the door, and tried to hide his red face against the oak grain.

Harrow chuckled softly against his hair, and a hand brushed along his cheek; touching its heat.

“You like that name, don’t you? It bothers you how much you like it.” Harrow sounded thoughtful, not scornful as Viren had expected. He didn’t chase Viren when the Warlock pulled away from his touch once more, but neither did he step back. Harrow remained a firm heat at Viren’s back, listening to the Warlock’s fast heart beats, and harsh breathes. Savouring them. Harrow took a small mercy on Viren, and held the ward key in front of Viren’s nose between two fingers. He snatched it before the Vampire could change his mind.

Viren didn’t acknowledge Harrow’s words, just stood shoulders hunched, hand- and ward key- clutched firm to his chest, thanking Hecate over and over again that he smelled of spellcraft and not of the burning arousal currently tenting his pants. His robes would cover it, if only Harrow would leave.

“I have a spellwork to get to. You know damn well you and the others are forbidden from attending. Leave me be, Harrow.” He growled. He really was going to be late, at this rate. Opeli was going to kill him.

A chuckle.

Harrow stepped back, and Viren shoved past him, stumbling the first step as he tried to get his staff into his hand in time to walk with it. Harrow made no move to help- likely hoping he’d fall and give the Vampire an excuse to touch him some more. Snarling something uncomplimentary in Wiccan, Viren hurried down the hallway away from him.

He barely made it into a herb room around the corner before he was struggling with the ties of his pants, cursing out Harrow in a tangle of languages as he shoved his hand inside the tight confines, leaning back against the shelves and jerked himself roughly. It didn’t take much, with the way his body still hummed with Harrow’s touch. He could feel him against his back still, feel his burning heat and the heavy weight of his body, feel the coil of Harrow’s hair as it brushed his shoulders, and if he closed his eyes he could imagine what his fangs would feel like running along the edge of his ear.

He bit down on his free wrist to muffle his moans but it only made things worse, and he was reeling, heart beating too hard and breath coming too fast. That dark, perverse part of him hoped Harrow would come, would catch him like this – desperate and needy for him, hard and so wanton he could barely keep the noises back. Viren tightened his hand, jerking fast, and came hard without warning. He bit down much too hard, and tasted blood as he broke skin.

Fuck. Just what he needed.

As he panted, pulling his cum covered hand free of his pants, and reaching to wipe it on a workroom towel, he let his head drop back. There was no chance that Harrow wouldn’t notice that.

He was right about Opeli wanting to kill him. When he managed to stager to the renewal ceremony, he was a full half hour late and they had to hurry through. They almost missed the window for it, and she shot him a look of pure malice from across the fire as they rushed the call for Hecate’s blessing. He had to exaggerate his limp to keep her from outright gutting him on the spot and setting their people back thousands of years by using blood magic in a holy ceremony.  She, of course, knew him well enough to know when he was playing it up but didn’t call him on it. Fortunately for the future of their race, Opeli left without confronting him – although he wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to hex him to death later in the day.

Not that he’d blame her. He had chosen masturbation over prayer, not that she knew. He hoped.

After the ceremony, he sat down in the grass and let his daughter ice his ankle, despite his protests. Claudia crouched next to him rather than sitting, her long ceremonial skirts pooled around her like dark ink. She had her elbow resting on her knee, chin propped up on her hand, and he had a feeling one of her frighteningly observant moments was about to happen.

Sometimes, Claudia reminded him so strongly of her mother that it took his breathe away. And then she would laugh, and her little giggle snorts that were all her would bring him back.

His children were gifts, and while his marriage had been a short lived thing, he cherished them as the best thing to come of it. Inter race weddings weren’t exactly uncommon, but they weren’t without their challenges, and for a Human with no magic, living among the wicca had proved to be too much for his wife. They had parted on strained terms, but it had been mutual. The children still spent their summers with her, and always returned tanned and freckled with many stories, and full of smiles and laughter. It warmed his heart that despite everything, they could still share this bond.

Half Human, half wicca, Claudia had yet to choose which magic she had a preference in and had shown an affinity for both the Human magics: the lack of squeamishness necessary for the Human dark magic, but also the curiosity and focus necessary for Wicca spellwork. She wasn’t an active participant in the ceremonies yet, but Opeli had brought her in as an understudy – not to herself, but elected Claudia to one of the other witches on the council. It was more of a formality. It gave her a chance to study the ways of her father’s people.

She also studied the ways of her mother’s people with him, of course. So did Soren, but he’d shown a distinct disinterest in the Human magics. If Viren were to guess, he would say Soren was more likely to become a Druid then a Warlock- rarely summoned from within the ranks of the Wicca, more often from the Werewolves, with their strong bond to the cycles of the earth and seasons, or the Humans with their incredible breadth gift the channel all magics; he had long suspected his son took far more strongly after his mother’s people then he did Viren’s.

 He would be proud of his children, regardless of what paths they chose.

“Father,” Claudia started, then hesitated. She seemed to chew on her thoughts, and Viren waited for her, content to sit with his child in the grass.

“Are you and King Harrow… ah, dance partners?” she asked carefully, glancing at him then away again.

He blinked at her.

“Pardon?”

“Ah, it’s just, Opeli said something earlier, and I know you and mother are not truly together, and I thought perhaps you and-” she said in a rush.

Oh. Oh.

“No!” He shouted, and flushed immediately. Clearing his throat, he lowered his voice.

“No, Claudia, King Harrow and I are simply on the councils. No… dancing.” He finished awkwardly.

It wasn’t like he was lying  to her- and he certainly wasn’t about to tell his teenage daughter of all people that the King of the Vampire race liked to push him against walls in empty hall ways, and call him derogatory slurs because he liked the way Viren blushed whenever he did it.

Viren rubbed the back of his neck, sighing heavily, and smiled at her. “Truly, Claudia. I’m not certain what Opeli said, but hopefully she was simply being rude. I’ll speak with her later.” The hell I will. He’d rather eat molten lead.

Claudia considered him for a moment, not looking quite convinced, but then she shrugged, and stood. She dusted grass and herbs from her long robes, and held a hand out to him.

“Come on, Father. There is a formal Councils lunch in the council chambers. We’re all expected to attend.”

He hadn’t heard anything about any Councils event. But then, he had been locked away in his workroom for the better part of the last day in an attempt to avoid Harrow, so it really shouldn’t have surprised him. Viren covered his grimace in the motion of rising, accepting Claudia’s hand up but leaning more on his staff then her grip.

If this was something he would have to put up with then so be it. Perhaps Opeli would murder him on the way.

The thought shouldn’t have cheered him as much as it did.

The room was just as crowded as before, but this time with furniture, tables and chairs strewn about with silverware set in frighteningly complex patterns that spoke to something much more formal  then a simple lunch. With the attendance restricted to the four councils, the number of bodies milling around the room was significantly less than it had been the day before. It did, however, make it fairly easy to make out Harrow in the mix- which meant Harrow had no issue discerning where Viren himself was. Viren sighed heavily, and excused himself from Claudia, nodding in greeting to General Amaya, head of the Joint Armies and of the Lunar Council of the Werewolves. As always, her cheerful Human interpreter was at her elbow, somehow sunny enough for himself and Amaya.  Viren had met Gren a few times over the years, and if he hadn’t been certain that there was something complex between Opeli and Amaya, he would have said the Werewolf had made the man her mate.

But at the end of the day, Viren was never quite sure, and he certainly wasn’t about to ask Amaya.  She nodded a greeting to him, and Gren called something that was lost in the noise of crowd, and he moved on.

It took no time for a warm shadow to join him. King Harrow fell into step next to him, but said nothing. Together, they made the rounds through the room, greeting members from other councils. From the outside, it had to look like they paused a sedate conversation to go about the social niceties of inter species politics, and may resume it after they made their trip around the room. Perhaps some ignorant members of the room even assumed them friends.

That was the outside. Viren could barely focus, couldn’t even hear the words that came out of his mouth. At some point in their circuit, Harrow had slid his hand under the long tails of Viren’s grey robes, and slipped it right underneath the thick black lesser robe he wore underneath. His hand rested like a hot brand on the bare skin of Viren’s lower back, the silk of his gloves an absolute torture.

Do not get hard in council. Viren thought venomously at himself.

Harrow rubbed his thumb idly back and forth as they greeted a member of the Human council, and Viren could feel himself smiling and nodding, saying something – the Warlock, who he didn’t recognize- laughed and smiled back.

Back and forth rubbed Harrow’s thumb, gentle along what would be the bottom of his three moon Hecate tattoo. Dazed, he wondered if Harrow’s sensitive fingers could pick up the faint difference in the skin texture between his untouched skin, and that of the healed tattoo.

A slight pressure- Harrow dug his finger tips in slightly, and Viren’s breath left him in a rush, heat flooding his veins.

I am not doing this twice in one day. He was not that spineless! He would not be reduced to a panting mess by some simple touch, and not in public! Viren grit his teeth and made to pullaway from the sweet torture of Harrow’s soft touches.

Abruptly, as if summoned, Opeli appeared out of nowhere in front of them. They both jerked back in surprise- she did not look like a woman there for social pleasantries and a light lunch. She looked like a witch on the warpath. Turning slightly towards him, King Harrow cast Viren a faint smile.

“Until later.” he bid him farewell. Harrow slid his hand free of Viren’s clothing as he turned, the flutter of his cloak covering it seamlessly.

Viren cursed the way his luck turned out, but plastered on a smile for appearance sake. At the very least, there was no longer a risk of him getting an erection in the middle of council chambers.

In the end, Opeli relented. The ceremony had gone through without any issue, after all, and Viren’s suspected she might have a better idea of what Viren had been dealing with at increasingly frequent intervals, because before she left for her own seat, she grabbed his hand.

“These might help.” said Opeli, shoving something into his hand and roughly closing his fingers around it. She looked physically pained, he assumed because compassion and Opeli weren’t very well acquainted.

On top of her strange behavior, she left before he could say anything- reject her gift, or thank her. Viren stared after her for a moment, then heaved a heavy sigh and propped his staff in his elbow so he could unwrap the small linen bundle.

He blinked at the silver hoops laying in the center of the fabric; six of them, only two of them a pair but unmistakably all made of pure silver. An unusual gift, as silver made Vampires uncomfortable-

His eyes snapped up to where she had disappeared, and he closed his hand around the earrings, face burning. So she has noticed. It was a kind gift, but one that presented a bit of a problem; he wanted to put them in right then, give himself a little breathing room from Harrow and perhaps grant himself some time and space to sort out his own thoughts.

But this wasn’t a social function, and he had duties to attend to that may be affected by him suddenly throwing on a great deal of the purity metal.

The hairs on the back of his neck rose a in warning, and Viren stepped hastily aside just in time to avoid being pinned against the table by Harrow. The Vampire looked delighted by his evasion, and right then Viren made up his mind.

Leaning his staff against the table, Viren reached up to tug free the amber earrings he wore. He locked eyes with the Vampire, and put in not just one set of the silver earrings, but went as far as to thread the second holes he rarely wore jewellery in. They hadn’t quite closed, but pushing the earring through stung, and he suspected they were bleeding by the way Harrow’s nostril’s flared, and the Vampire took a half step towards him.

“Feeling brazen today, little witch?” asked Harrow, his voice a rumble Viren could feel like a physical touch. His face was heating up again, heart beating too fast, but for once he lifted his chin and met Harrow’s eyes.

“Warlock.” Viren corrected.

Harrow drew his gaze slowly over Viren’s form, like he was taking him in for the first time. It was not a fast look, and Viren fought the impulse to shift with discomfort at the attention- although his face was still so hot, this was progress, and he wasn’t about to lose it by squirming under a single firm gaze.

Harrow tilted his head, and Viren twitched his sleeve down further over the bite on his wrist when Harrow smiled slowly. When he lifted a hand towards Viren, the Warlock automatically moved to step away, and the Vampire chuckled.

“So distrustful. What do you imagine I’m going to do, little witch?” he purred, like it was a challenge.

Frustrated, Viren stayed where he was. Harrow looked far too satisfied with himself, and once again Viren was left feeling like the mouse the cat was playing with. Something amusing for someone more powerful to play with at their leisure, although he would never call himself weaker then Harrow. This was more of a mental game, and he always seemed to be losing. The Vampire reached out again, slower this time, and Viren held still to allow his touch.

As always, Harrow’s touch was soft, a barely-there brush against the side of his face.

It was his gentleness that destroyed his control, slowly eroded away at Viren’s resistance; Harrow touched him the same way one touched a flower. Softly, with enough pressure to feel the petals, but never enough to bruise; enough pressure to feel the heat of Viren’s skin, and for Viren to feel the heat of Harrow’s, but never further than that. For all the pushing and teasing the Vampire was so careful, and it made him half grateful, half absolutely spitting mad.

Nothing about Viren was fragile, he’d done nothing to warrant this sort of delicate treatment- especially when combined with the absolutely filthy way Harrow talked to him.

Viren couldn’t help but ask, “Doesn’t that hurt?” as he felt the nudge of Harrow’s thumb across the silver.

Swiping away the bead of blood that had gathered at the base, he realised a moment later, as the Vampire sucked the smudge off the pad of his thumb. He isn’t wearing his gloves. The realisation came as a start. Viren couldn’t recall a time when Harrow had touched him with his bare hands.

“It stings,” the Vampire answered.

 He turned Viren’s head with his bare hand, fingers against his skin, and leaned in before the Warlock could scrape his brain off of whatever primordial rock he’d left it on.  He stood rooted to the spot, held in place with fingers gentle on his jaw and Harrow’s warm mouth working wetly around his earlobe.

Viren felt like his soul was leaving his body.

Do not get hard in the council chambers! His coven was here. His daughter was here.

Harrow’s wet, clever tongue was also there, toying with the silver threaded through his earlobes. It couldn’t have been more then a handful of breathes, but it felt like an eternity, and this time he was certain he felt the sharp nip of Harrow’s teeth as the Vampire pulled back, smiling that smug, infuriating smile of his.

Viren almost smacked himself in his haste to cover his ear. When Harrow leaned forward as if to go after his other ear, Viren held up a warning finger.

“If you try that again, I will hex you.” Oh sweet stars, if someone would just end his life now. His heart couldn’t handle this sort of stress. Harrow lifted his hands in elegant surrender, bowing his head to Viren as he stepped back to a more polite distance. Viren snatched his staff from the table, and stepped back for good measure.

 The most frustrating thing was how no one around them seemed to care. Harrow had been flustering Viren in public for so many years now that it was simply a part of the scenery. It wasn’t like he had ever truly complained about it; half of his coven knew he was one botched blessing charm away from crawling to Harrow on his knees begging for the Vampire to take him. It was old news.

The charmed clock struck the half hour, and food began to be brought in; others around them went to find their seats. There wasn’t a way for Harrow to follow him without making a complete ass of himself- it was one thing to harass Viren during the Councils down time, but quite another to actively follow him through an active session. Both of them were too busy for that, anyway.

Viren set his jaw, and cast one last narrow eyed look of vehement frustration at King Harrow, before turning to seek his own seat. This day needed to be over, before it prematurely aged him any further.

Lunch broke up late, the pleasantries rolling over into a true joint councils session. Amaya and the Lunar council brought news from the siege front, the latest troop numbers and the movements of the enemy. It wasn’t particularly damaging information, but it gave Opeli and himself a place to start when they set the replenishment spellwork in place. Amaya had brought with her a list of wards that had begun to fail since the Spring equinox; she hadn’t been able to leave the frontlines due to a heavy siege, and so had missed the joint session for the summer solstice; the vital information on which wards had fallen or taken damage had been trapped with her during the siege. It made the Samhain renewals all the more important. If they left the patching until the winter solstice, they would have too much work on their hands.

The Human’s Greylight Council had the estimations for harvest and what would be needed from each kingdom for the up coming winter. Winter sieges were the hardest, but from the reports, it sounded like they would be tied up in the effort without any let up this year.

It was hours past dinner by the time the council chamber vomited them all out again, exhausted but with far too much on all their minds to find rest at any point soon. The sun might have gone down, but there were still hours left in the evening, and work many of them had yet to do.

Viren sighed, pausing to lean against the wall. There was no one around in the hallway to see his moment of exhaustion, and he scrubbed his hands over his face tiredly. There would be no more spellwork this evening, and none in the morning the following day- Samhain was technically this eve, but they rarely structured the renewals around the rites themselves. The younger members of the Grand Coven had been left to run the holy rites as the bulk of their duties to the renewal ceremonies- this would be Claudia’s first year being part of the rite its self, and not simply an observer.

He slumped against the wall, covering his eyes with a soft groan. Right. It was Claudia’s first year, how could he have forgotten. He had to attend, she would never forget it if he didn’t. He would never forgive himself. This was far too big a rite of passage for him to miss simply because he was tired; a glance at the glowing clouds left in the wake of sunset said he had time, but not much. Perhaps two hours.  He folded his arms around his staff, and let his head fall back against the wall, staring unseeingly up at the far away ceiling.

The day has not been so long that I cannot find joy in this occasion, thought Viren solemnly, and he managed a smile. This was a proud day. He would be there for her, and he would be proud.

It truthfully should not have surprised him that Harrow chose that moment to spirit himself out of the growing shadows that slunk across the hall. The tall King should not have been able to so easily hide in the slender lines of the pillars lining the hallway, but then Viren had found that King Harrow had a tendency to disregard even the most sensible laws of nature – among other rules - when they didn’t suit him.

He covered an undignified snort with one hand, ducking his head hastily in greeting.

“King Harrow,” said Viren, too tired for their cat-and-mouse.

Harrow nodded in return, and for a moment Viren thought that perhaps this might be a civilized conversation. The moment was short lived; Harrow stepped close, catching the hand Viren lifted to ward him off, and turned it over slowly.

Viren stiffened like an offended cat, trying to yank his arm away before Harrow could see that, but it was too late. The Vampire’s hold was firm without being painful, but Viren wasn’t able to break his grip before Harrow pushed up his sleeve to reveal the bloody crescent on the inside of his forearm. The skin around it was bruised from Viren’s blunt teeth, dark purples and shell pinks framing the brilliant crimson scab.

Harrow tutted softly.

“Little witch, when are you going to stop lying to yourself?”

His warm thumb swept across the bruise, touch light. Viren shuddered, only noticing then that once again, Harrow’s hands were bare. His touch seemed to burn through Viren, and the Warlock shifted uneasily. There wasn’t that much time before the beginning of the rites, and the way Harrow had been toying with him all day made him think that the Vampire wouldn’t mind embarrassing him more.

Don’t get turned on by that, he almost begged himself, utterly disgusted at the hot flash of want that the thought brought. Harrow’s eyes scanned his face, and Viren could feel the heat rising up to meet his look. He felt like his skin might catch fire, flushed under the weight of Harrow’s sharp gaze.

He had conflicting urges to beg Harrow to let him go, leave him be- or to push him back, pin him to the wall and crush him with the weight of his body, and drag everything from Viren’s mouth that he kept supressing.

He clenched down on that impulse, hard.

Claudia’s first rite, Viren reminded himself shakily.

“Let me go, Harrow.” Sweet stars, was that really his voice? He sounded so breathless and out of sorts.

Harrow smiled slowly, lifting Viren’s hand to his mouth.

He placed a soft kiss upon the bruise.

His lips were like a brand, and even after Harrow raised his head to give Viren a knowing look, Viren could still feel them pressed against his skin.

“I don’t think you want me to do that, Viren,” Harrow said softly, and Viren barely heard him over the rush of his own blood.

Viren. When was the last time Harrow had used his name? Long enough that he couldn’t rightly recall. Viren took a shaky breath, and tried to compose himself. It was entirely wrong of him to come apart so easily at the slightest touch, he wasn’t this easy.

“I have places to be.” Viren said, voice firmer.

Harrow studied him. He has such beautiful eyes, they were Viren’s favorite part of him. Hecate knew that he wasn’t allowed to think on any part of the Vampire. It was turning out to be overwhelming to have them focused solely on him so many times in so few days.

Lifting his hand, Harrow uncurled Viren’s unresisting fingers. His thick fingers swept across Viren’s palm, and he held the Warlock’s gaze as he lifted his hand to press a kiss to the center of his palm.

Viren felt the scrap of teeth, the wet heat of Harrow’s breath. His pulse rocketed, heat blooming everywhere. Standing frozen, he could only watch mutely as the Vampire King withdrew, bowing deeply over Viren’s hand, and stepped back into the dark shadow, finally relinquishing his hand. Viren let it fall to his side, too shocked at Harrow’s forward actions.

“Enjoy your rites, little witch.”

With that, he disappeared into the shadow, leaving Viren alone once more in the hallway.

Viren slid slowly down the wall, sitting down with a thump on the floor. Now he was going to be late  again, because the bastard had started something again, and left Viren aching and alone again. This was beginning to be too much of a pattern.

He wasn’t even sure if he was angry.

He wasn’t late. Opeli had found him a few minutes later, sitting on the floor, and assumed he his injury had proven too sore to walk on. Viren hadn’t corrected her, simply taken the offered hand up. He was already leaning heavily on his staff; the day had been long, and he had been on his feet for all of it. There was no need to pretend at being in pain, the ache crawled up his knee and wrapped around his hip, threatening to turn from a dull throb to hot fire.

There were few moments in his life that brought him as much joy as watching Claudia that night. His baby girl, growing into her power and birthright, standing in the highest coven of their people. Performing one of their most sacred rights. Sitting in the ring of elders, observing but not participating, Viren teared up a little.

She practically glowed; the light from the central bonfire leaping and dancing, casting roaring light along the young Warlocks and witches, and there was his daughter, head held high and voice raised in chant, power streaming from her hands and over flowing from her eyes. Her bare feet moved easily, stepping over the elaborate glyphs carved into the stone floor. Never once did she stumble.

Fire leapt to her hand from the great fire, and she stood still, for just a moment, burning fist clenched towards the sky.

Then the howling cry rose from the fields beyond the castle, the voices of his people raised in the height of their ceremonies, and he and the rest of the silent observers stood, and raised their voices in chant to. This was what he wished for his children. This serenity in the vast unity and community of the Wicca.

He slammed his staff to the beat of the chanting. Others stomped their feet. Their voices rose and rose, and then-

Silence.

The flame in Claudia’s hand shot into the sky. Moments later, thousands of flames joined it, lighting up the sky, and the kingdom below it.

The chant continued in one long, high scream, almost a song.

They all fell silent at the same time. The fire hung in the air for an unnaturally long time, suspended by the spell- before it shot off all at once to the east, towards Xadia, great arches of golden flame painting the sky in light. Viren stood in silence and watched until it faded into the eastern horizon.

Chatter slowly rose, people began to move around, find their shoes, talk with their neighbours. Parents went to their children. Viren edged through the crowd towards Claudia, who stood in a small clump of other wicca her age. Soren was with her, which surprised him- his son had never shown an interest in these rites.

As he watched, Soren pulled his sister into a tight hug, and his children did a little bouncing dance, laughing loudly enough that he could hear them above the conversation. Viren smiled; he should have expected Soren. This was his sister’s rite after all. Claudia and Soren were close, and even if Soren followed a different path, it would be in his character to return to Katolis to support her at her ceremonies.

He paused, leaning on his staff, and watched them with a faint smile.  Despite everything, it seemed he and their mother had managed to raise them right.

Claudia spotted him first, and raised her hand, waving frantically.

“Father! Father, over here!” she called.

Viren waved back, and went to his children.

 Much later that night, Viren walked back with the company of Opeli. She had her arm looped around his waist, taking some of his weight, his arm thrown over her shoulders, they strolled at a leisurely pace. There wasn’t a reason to rush; flushed with drink, and warm from the feast, neither of them had anything to call them from their beds in the morning. In fact, if they wanted, they could both retreat into their rooms and stay there until the following day, sleep away the exhaustion that had been building for the past few weeks.

The celebrations were still in full swing, Wicca and every other race dancing around the fires and sharing drink and food over lively music and roaring conversation. The night was loud, alive with good fortune and cheer. It was impossible to be in a poor mood, even as tired as they both were from the weeks of work both behind and ahead of them.

Opeli hummed softly.

“If you wished it, you could invite him to you bed tonight and blame it on the drink tomorrow,” she said out of the blue.

Viren snorted.

“I am not that drunk.”

It was true. The days of heavy drinking at the rites were far behind him; Opeli had shared a pitcher of spiced, watered wine with him, and they had observed the festivities from the comfort of a table. He was warm with the wine, but not lost in it. They had left Claudia and Soren to their dancing when the bell towers had rung that it was two in the small hours, the low tones of the bells seeming to settle something in both Viren and Opeli but not Soren or Claudia; both children still full of energy. They had waved and rushed them, hugging him tight and kissing aunty Opeli goodnight, before the crowd had swallowed them up again.

“But you could.” She said, reasonably.

Viren thought about Harrow, idly considered it. He knew he could never go through with it, but it was a pleasant thought. To have the Vampire King in his bed, if only for a night; lose himself in all the desires he spent so much energy repressing on this hallowed eve. It was tempting.

“But I won’t.” He sighed, leaning his head back and staring up at the ceiling.

Opeli snorted, casting him an exasperated look.

“I don’t know why you insist on denying yourself this. It isn’t like he’s a cruel man, Viren.” She paused, shifting his weight on her shoulder, and covered a yawn.

“He would be good to you. Good for you.” Opeli’s grey eyes were sharp. “Harrow isn’t toying with you, you do know that, right?”

They had reached Viren’s door. Viren shrugged himself off her shoulder and out of her grasp, but Opeli pulled on the edge of his robe as he tried to walk away; it choked Viren until he stopped trying to move away from her and the conversation he absolutely was not going to have. Tugging his clothing back into place, he turned back to her with a sigh, setting his staff firmly between his feet so he could lean against it.

“What would you have me do?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.

Opeli flicked her mane of greying hair back over her shoulder, fixing him with far too sober grey eyes.

“Invite him in, to your bed, to your life. It’s entirely up to you. But this strange game between the two of you is fooling no one.” she smiled, quick and fleeting, and tapped his hand with the back of hers.

“Everyone can see you want him, Viren. Him most of all. Hide behind your herbs and thick robes all you’d like, but lust isn’t just in the blood.”

With that entirely cryptic message, she turned and went back the way they had come. Her steps were faster than his could ever have hope to be, and Viren resigned himself to his confusion, and instead dug through his robes for his ward lock.

He shoved the stone into its slot, leaning on the heavy wood door to open it.

His rooms were dark, the fire he had left banked long burnt out. it had been perhaps two days since he’d returned to his actual quarters, and the darkened rooms felt bare and cold compared to the thrum of warmth and life outside.

With a sigh, he cast flame into the fireplace, sticking with a magical flame; if the fire had burnt out, then he hadn’t left enough fuel for the spell-controlled flames, and there would be nothing for his cast to catch onto. The glow off the magical flame was softer, and its heat was less, but it would do.

Several more magic flames leapt from his fingertips to the candles around the room, and these turned into real flames at the contact with fuel. Immediately it felt warmer, more alive; the ambient power of the rite summoned to any open flame. The shapeless power filled his room in eddies, like little bits of magical dust. It was calming, like having a wild deer walk through the end of the garden. He could no more control this magic than he could a deer- it was a wild creature, feral and free. But nights like this the most primal of forces came to mingle with the humble power of his people and perform an epic dance that went back as long as any would care to recall.

He held out a hand, and the power whispered along his palm, for all the world like a cat saying hello. Viren chuckled.  The wine may have been stronger then he’d thought, if he was having such fanciful thoughts.

Before he could get too much farther into his rooms, there was a knock upon his door. It was soft, but its presence alone gave him pause. Who could be calling on him at such a late hour? Perhaps Opeli has returned, he mused, as he limped to the door.

It opened silently under his touch.

It wasn’t Opeli at his door.

King Harrow stood in the hall just beyond his threshold, two goblets in one hand, and a corked bottle in the other. Despite the low light, his eyes seemed to glow.

“Invite me in, Viren.”

Harrow’s voice washed over him, and despite himself Viren closed his eyes.  Just let me have this, he reasoned with himself. There was no harm in a simple drink with a colleague on festival night.

Hesitating only for a moment longer, Viren stepped aside, gesturing for Harrow to step inside.

“Be welcome, King Harrow, on this hallowed eve. Kind of you to bring drink.” He added weakly, as Harrow stepped past him.

Harrow waited as Viren closed the door, setting the goblets and bottle of wine down on the table Viren kept for such odds and ends at the door way.

It didn’t give him more than a moment to gather himself, and with Harrow just a step behind him Viren couldn’t take a deep breath even if it felt like it might be the only thing to steady his shaky nerves.

Harrow’s hand settled on the door beside his head, with a slow deliberateness to the motion like Harrow had intended Viren to notice. It echoed back to the same gesture from days ago, but this time Harrow didn’t press himself against Viren, simply stood within the circle of his personal space, and let his warm breath tickle the hairs at the back of the Warlock’s neck.

Viren considered his options. Slowly, keeping pressed to the door, he turned.

Harrow was even closer than he had anticipated.

The Vampire King had his common expression of soft amusement, a smile chasing itself across his full lips, and lighting his vivid eyes. He leaned on his arm, caging Viren in, but made no move to touch him.

The light was behind Harrow, but his eyes seemed to glow as if the fire was between the two of them. Viren closed his mouth before he could say something foolish, clenching his hands against the smooth wood of the door. He couldn’t stop the hot wave of want that washed through him even if he tried; his skin prickled with it, body warm, on edge. Harrow was so close.

“Why do you torment yourself so, Viren, denying yourself what you clearly want?” Harrow asked him, eyes wandering his face. He felt flushed, too warm in his heavy ceremony robes, and under Harrow’s scrutiny Viren could feel colour bloom on his cheeks. It brought a pleasing hum from Harrow, but he still didn’t lift a hand to touch him.

“We could do so much more enjoyable things this hallowed eve, if you wished it. I could take you apart so sweetly, on every surface of this room. There are no herbs to hide behind this time, Viren, I can smell you, smell the heat as it stirs your blood.”

Viren bit his lips to keep the startled moan inside, turning his face away. Harrow leaned closer, until he could feel his presence like a brand. The Vampire King’s voice was a low purr in his ear when he next spoke, warm breath washing little shivers of pleasure across Viren’s skin.

“End this game, and you will never again have to bite back your sweet noises. Let me make you sing praises to your goddess as I touch you. Say the words, and we will be released. Ask me,”

Harrow’s lips brushed his ear. “Little witch.”

His breath felt like it was punched out of him by the force of his own want at those words, roaring up so viciously it deafened him, and any pretense of restraint left him. You want this. Opeli had been right, but then she always was.

Don’t you dare ruin this by thinking about Opeli, he growled at himself, as he knotted a hand in the front of Harrow’s beautiful clothing, and pulled him close.

“Do it, do it you bastard.” Viren bit out, overwhelmed. He felt far too flushed, heart pounding and breath fast.

Harrow still looked amused, but he pushed Viren up against the door, covering him so completely that it was like Viren was bathing in his heat. Harrow pushed his thigh between Viren’s, and rocked it up, catching the Warlock’s lips as he ducked his head.

It was a sloppy, inelegant kiss, too much breathing into each other’s mouth and Harrow’s sharp teeth scraped against his lips without breaking the skin. But his clever hands were working at the fastens of Viren’s robe, pushing buttons through dark cloth and shoving away the stifling top layer. It dropped to the ground, and Harrow took him by the waist, lifting him up  and out of the puddle of fabric.

Viren started, clutching his arms, but the vampire didn’t waver. He pulled him closer, hiking Viren’s legs around his waist, and kissed him soundly again until he was melting against him; he wanted to rut against him, pull Harrow’s hair and keep his mouth close, use him and be used. Too many ideas and desires to pick a path.  Harrow squeezed the double handfuls of Viren’s ass, and turned to walk them to Viren’s desk.

He rarely ever made it to his quarters anymore except to sleep, so it sat bare but for a simple cloth.

Harrow acted like he weighed nothing, and Viren would be lying if he said that display of careless strength didn’t make him hard. He rocked against Harrow, his dark locks tangled between Viren’s fingers and Viren’s nails scratching small lines along the back of Harrow’s neck.

Years of denying himself had made the filthy desire in Viren shameless and strong. He handed himself over to it without any more hesitation.

Harrow walked them over to his desk, sitting Viren down on top of it, and stepping back.

“You look divine,” he said roughly, after a moment. He rubbed at his aching fangs, leaning back to take a deep breath, but his eyes stayed riveted to Viren’s flushed face.

Harrow stepped closer, pushing apart Viren’s knees, and tilted his head back to kiss him breathless. Viren closed his eyes, and opened his mouth to the kiss. He could feel the trace of Harrow’s sharpened claws against the flush staining his face, before they threaded into his hair and Harrow deepened their kiss.  Viren relinquished control, clutching at Harrow’s shirt, and let the Vampire King ravish him as he’d promised.

The way Harrow was kneading Viren’s thigh as they kissed was driving him mad, broad palm stroking up and down his clothed thigh- getting just high enough for Viren to shift his hips towards Harrow, press his entire body against Harrow’s - He was pressed so close, but they had far too much clothing on and he was being kissed utterly breathless- Harrow needed far less oxygen then Viren, and he was taking full advantage of that fact, leaving the Warlock reeling and gasping at every break, running his fingers over Viren’s lips, whispering almost too softly for him to hear over his own ragged breathes.

They were simple things; you are beautiful, and pleasure suits you, among others. His husky words were undoing Viren faster than his touches; he shivered under Harrow’s hands, body hot with want and need, flushed and leaning into his every touch.  

Harrow tugged at his clothes, sliding his hands under all of Viren’s layers while constantly evading Viren’s attempts to do the same; silken gloves slid along the bare skin of his stomach, smoothing along the curve of his body to slide down to the small of his back. Viren’s shirt lay unbuttoned against his chest, vests unclasped, and as he pulled back to suck greedy lungfuls of air, he honestly couldn’t recall when Harrow’s clever hands had managed that.

“You’re over dressed,” Viren said roughly, yanking hard on the edge of Harrow’s cloak, and sitting back when the Vampire tried to coax him back with a kiss. Harrow straightened, shaking his head with a soft laugh and undid his cloak. It fell to the floor with a hiss that sounded like a living thing, and lay like a shadow against the ground. He stepped closer again, sliding his palms up Viren’s legs.

“Better?” he asked, amused.

Viren considered him.

“Not quite,”

Slowly, he slid his hands up Harrow’s chest. There was an odd little bump under Harrow’s clothing, like he had a charm sewn into the lining of his jacket. Viren filed it away for later investigation, and undid the jeweled broach at Harrow’s throat. He tucked into the front pocket of the Vampire King’s coat- if he put it on the desk, they’d simply forget it later. Harrow arched a brow at his action, but let him continue, intrigued.

Viren untied the white neck scarf Harrow wore at his throat, sliding it free slowly. It pooled in Viren’s hand, and he tucked it too into Harrow’s pocket.

Then he unbuttoned his shirt, one, two, three buttons. Not all of them, but enough to show his throat and bare a sliver of his chest, to make him look indecent; his shirt open under his fine jacket, gloves still on, hair up and golden crown shining in the fire light.  Viren leaned in, and sucked a mark into bottom of his throat.

Harrow’s hands clenched on his thighs, but when he moved to pull back, the Vampire shook his head.

“Don’t stop.”

Emboldened, Viren scraped his teeth against the bruising mark, and Harrow swore and snatched him off the table, crushing their mouths together in a hard kiss that left Viren gasping. He tangled his fingers in Harrow’s hair, tugging it free of it’s bun, and sending it tumbling over his shoulders. The ornate gold clasps were the only thing that seemed to hold it into something resembling locks, and not captured night sky; Harrow was trembling on the cusp of his primal form, magic spilling from him in waves and he pulled Viren towards the bed.

Two steps from the desk, Harrow’s foot caught on his cloak, and they both went down in a heap of swearing limbs. They hit the floor hard enough to knock the wind out of Harrow, Viren crushed to his chest by Harrow’s reflexes.

He struggled to sit up as Harrow groaned, noting that despite the fall, and his knees on either side of Harrow’s hips, his leg didn’t actually hurt. Scraping his hair back, and patting Harrow’s chest in comfort, Viren sat back, awkwardly twisting to look behind them.

A thick black shadow stretched below them. It cut across half the floor they’d fallen over, completely at odds with any of the light sources in the room. Light shimmered across a line of gold, and Viren picked it up, curious. He was startled to realize that it was one of the golden clasps for Harrow’s cape.

“This isn’t…?” Viren trailed off, and looked at Harrow. Harrow lifted a hand and dropped it back down again.

“You like me now,” Harrow reminded him, looking all together like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Viren smacked him on the chest. Not hard, but Harrow raised his hands in surrender regardless.

“A spellcloak. You sneaky little underhanded weasel, you’ve been shadow walking all these years.” Viren felt a tiny spark of absolution; at the very least, he wasn’t hopelessly unaware of Harrow. Harrow had been actively hunting him in a way that his magic simply couldn’t track. Sneaky, but effective.

“It was affective,” said Harrow, echoing his thought, smoothing his hands up Viren’s legs to rest on his hips. “You should have seen your face every time I stepped out into an empty hall. So torn between ripping my throat out with your blunt little teeth, and melting into my hands.” He added, stroking his thumbs across the bare plains of Viren’s stomach. Harrow’s touch was so much warmer than Viren’s skin; absently, he wondered if he felt cool to the Vampire.

Viren tried to find it in himself to be annoyed, but it was amusing how thorough Harrow had been. It turns out he really had just been waiting for Viren to get out of his own way. Viren tapped his fingers on Harrow’s chest, then turned his attention to his buttons.

“You are lucky I didn’t find this out even an hour sooner,” he muttered, while spreading Harrow’s shirt wide to bare his skin to the firelight.  It soaked it in, warm and smooth as living bronze. Darker under his pale hands, but just as beautiful. Viren smoothed a hand across it, pausing as metal pressed to his fingertips.

He touched the small gold ring threaded through Harrow’s right nipple, arching a brow at him.

“It was Amaya’s idea.” Said Harrow with a small shrug.

Viren tugged it, lips twitching at Harrow’s warning rumble.

“Oh, is it sensitive? My apologies,  majesty.”

“You snarky-!” Harrow sat up, catching Viren by surprise, wrapping both arms securely around him while he nipped at his neck; playfully, but his fangs were sharp, and Viren gasped out a startled curse, hot pleasure renewed in his veins.  Their comfortable banter had almost made him forget what they’d been doing in the first place; Harrow dragged him close, grinding Viren against him with his hands on the Warlock’s ass, and his body woke up again. Buzzed and sung and lit its self back on fire.  

“I want to bite you.” Harrow confessed, voice thick with want. He licked a hot stripe from Viren’s jawline to his shoulder, heavy touch of his tongue following the thick beating vein in Viren’s neck. He let his head fall back before he could think about it, dragging his fingers through Harrow’s hair. He was hard again, rocking against Harrow’s toned stomach.

“I want you to bite me.” Viren assured, almost laughing. He’d said that so many times before to the Vampire King, but never in such a lewd context. Usually accompanied by a middle finger. Harrow huffed a laugh against his throat, breath warm and damp. His hands slid down Viren’s back, rocking the Warlock close as he groped the firm handfuls of his clothed ass, and licked at his throat again.

“You wear such high collars, it won’t show,” Harrow assured him.

“Very consider-” Viren’s voice left him in a sharp gasp, sarcastic words forgotten as the Vampire’s teeth pierced him. It hurt more then he’d expected, but Harrow’s teeth were sharp and the bite was clean; moments later he’d withdrawn his fangs, threading his fingers through Viren’s hair and tugging his head back. He sealed his lips over the bleeding wound,  and it numbed.

His body warmed, flush rising to his face as the room seemed to fade into a haze, all soft candle light and the warm scent of Harrow. It filled his nose, his mouth when he opened it to pant; his hands were filled with him, clenching in his shirt, pulling at it, needing him.

“Harrow,” Viren gasped, heart pounding, starting to feel overwhelmed by the rush of the allure.

Harrow’s hand’s stroked down his back, and his body shook; it was meant to be a comforting gesture, but his every touch brought sparks to his skin, pleasure so intense Viren was scared he’d come untouched, driven over the edge by his own spellbound body’s response to simple stimulation.

Harrow seemed to enjoy his responsiveness, scraping his fangs across the fresh bite; his cock twitched hard in his now too tight pants, no amount of grinding against Harrow’s stomach enough relief. His face felt damp- was he crying? Sweet stars, he was never going to live this down- and his blunt nails were digging into the back of Harrow’s neck, drawing pinpricks of blood.

The hot touch harrow’s mouth coupled with the drag of his hands, the brush of his hair against Viren’s bare shoulder, it all proved to be too much.

He tensed in Harrow’s arms, and came with a cry, shutting his eyes against the spots that played along the insides of his eyelids.

Harrow nursed the bite though his orgasm, prolonging it until Viren was shaking, hanging into him and half way to coming a second time. He yanked at Harrow’s hair, hard, and the Vampire king finally released him.

“Shhh, shhhh, just breathe,” Harrow said softly, leaning Viren forward until he rested against his chest, panting into Harrow’s neck. One hand swept up and down Viren’s back, another smoothing his hair away from his flushed, damp face. Harrow’s claws kept catching the fabric of his shirt, tugging it in tiny motions, like a cat with too long claws.

“You are a demon,” Viren said, but he kissed the side of Harrow’s neck, removing any venom from his words.

“You liked it?” it was unlike Harrow to sound so hesitant.

 He was jostled backwards, pulled away from Harrow. Viren opened his eyes, and set his hands on the Vampire King’s shoulders, taking in the darkened look of his eyes; gold irises replaced emerald green, glowing in the fire light in a sea of black.  The hand that touched his face looked like it had been dipped in shadows, claws daring his fingers out into sharp points; Viren caught that hand, and lay a tender his to the palm of it, keeping Harrow’s changed gaze.

“I am not some witchling to be caught in the snare of an allure, helpless to act on my own wants or desires.” Viren pressed their lips together, and lost long moments to a lingering kiss. When he finally had to pull away, utterly breathless, even Harrow’s steady breathing seemed ragged.

Harrow tugged his shirt down off his shoulders, kissing the line of skin the fabric revealed.

“You are no mere witchling, you are my witch.” He mumbled against his skin between kisses, strong hands smoothing down Viren’s arms until the shirt was gone and he sat half-naked on Harrow’s lap, in the middle of the floor.

 The look Harrow gave him was so hot with want that Viren felt it like a touch.

“My little witch. Get on the bed.”  Harrow growled, and his eyes flashed.

Viren felt his body run warm, and the room went soft. Without any input from his conscious mind, he stood, and walked to the bed, crawling onto it to sit in the middle. When he was seated, facing Harrow, the world seemed to fade back in, and he blinked, taken aback.

“Compulsion?” asked Viren. It wasn’t that it bothered him- he trusted Harrow. Just, it had him wondering exactly what sort of things Harrow could get him to do. Not all of them were very clean thoughts.

Harrow nodded advancing on him slowly. It felt very much like being hunted, but Viren was willing prey. He sat back on his hands, smiling up at Harrow when the Vampire joined him on the bed.

“If it bothers you at any point, you should tell me,” Harrow said, as he cupped Viren’s face, running his thumb over his bottom lip. Viren leaned into his touch.

“I trust you to use it sparingly.” It had been somewhat foolish of him to forget about the bite-compulsion, but this was Harrow.  He hardly needed to compel anything from Viren.

Viren turned his face, and caught Harrow’s clawed thumb in his mouth, running his tongue over the edge. Harrow muttered an oath in old tongue, voice rough.

“Undress for me, little witch.”

Viren panted, the weight of Harrow’s allure less this time; there was room to slow his hands as he lay back on the bed, tugging open his damp pants and shimmying them down his hips. Harrow leaned over him, grapping the fabric at his thighs, and pulled them the rest of the way off, laying Viren bare to his gaze. The Warlock twisted the bedding in his hands, a flush rising across his fair skin; Harrow traced it across his chest, following the path of the rising colour as it went up,  spreading lovingly across his shoulders and up his neck to bloom across his face. Harrow traced a claw along the pinked curve of Viren’s ear.

“Such a lovely colour. Are you embarrassed?” He asked softly.

Viren struggled with his composure. Laying naked under Harrow, his desire on display, he had to fight back the embarrassment. He didn’t curl up, stayed exposed to Harrow’s eyes, and let the Vampire touch him at his leisure.

Harrow placed a kiss on each of Viren’s stiff nipples, his beard brushing against Viren flushed skin- Viren turned his face away, covering his mouth to smother the soft whine the feel of Harrow’s mouth on him pulled from his throat. He’d squeezed his eyes shut without noticing, and opened them in surprise when Harrow sat back, his warmth moving away, leaving Viren cold.

“Viren,” Harrow’s voice was firm.

Viren looked at him reluctantly.

“I don’t want to take you while you bite back your moans, and blush at your own want.” He brushed the backs of his fingers across Viren’s flushed face.  “I want to take you while you claw at my back and demand I give you what you want, and we both know you have that desire inside you. I could use the allure but that’s not how I want you.”

Harrow hovered over him, and Viren reluctantly shoved aside the tight curl of embarrassment in his stomach. All those years of running away from his want, simply out of spite for himself, and suddenly he was expected to let it go? Harder done then said.

“I want this. I want you.” He looked away, then sighed heavily, pushing Harrow back until they were both kneeling on the now mused coverlet of his bed.

“I’ve burned with want for you for years, Harrow,” Viren confessed, clenching his hands in the bedding and refusing to meet his eyes. “Years that I’ve turned from that desire, and walked away from you over and over again. You raise things in me I always thought were better left dead.”

Harrow’s touch was much softer this time; his hand swept over his neck, cupped his jaw and tilted his face back up. Harrow’s kiss was gentling, the heat they had been building banked for the moment. But it smoldered in his gold eyes when he broke away to look at him, all liquid shadows and somberness at odd with Viren’s nudity, fanned the flame that still burned in Viren.

“I have waited, impatiently, for the day you grew sick of your own self-control. I can wait longer.” Said Harrow, and he was so serious¸  so sincere, that it felt like something in Viren cracked. He could almost hear it.

It sounded like Opeli, whispering He would be good to you, let him in.

Viren had a simple choice before him; close off, and they would both walk away from this. Tomorrow he would blame it on the spiced wine, and then they would never speak of this again. Harrow would back off.

Or he could accept every piece of pleasure being offered. The only thing it would cost him wasn’t even a price. He was only embarrassed because he wasn’t committed to the action yet.

I’m going to take every scrap he can give me, and only Hecate herself will be able to stop me, Viren decide, lunging forward and knocking Harrow back into the sheets. Years of bullshit, and he was hesitating?  Like this man hadn’t made him come in his pants like he was a green teenager, unused to pleasure? Maybe he was drunker then he’d thought, he always had been an over emotional and dramatic little shit when Opeli got too much wine into him.

Harrow groaned in appreciation, rolling them over so Viren was pressed back into the blankets, and returned to kissing the Warlock senseless.

His claws ran over Viren’s naked skin, stroking down his ribs to pull him flush against Harrow’s body, and Harrow was pushing one of his still-clothed thigh between Viren’s bare ones and grinding against him, and everything clicked back into place again. Arousal roared back to life, devouring Viren’s shame with want want want, and he clutched at harrow, Pulling Harrow as close as Harrow pulled him.

After a moment Viren turned his face from Harrow’s, sucking in deep greedy breathes. He felt flushed, lips tender from the scratch of the Vampire’s beard. Harrow turned his attention to Viren’s neck, giving him a chance to catch his breath, and sucked lightly at the skin just above the bite. Viren dug his nails into Harrow’s skin, and let out the deep, appreciative groan instead of biting it back.

“Very good.” Harrow praised, voice heavy with allure. It felt like a physical pet down his body, and suddenly he was craving more praise, wanting to hear Harrow pleased with him; Viren squirmed underneath Harrow, spreading his legs for him so the Vampire fell more solidly between them.

“Hurry up,” He panted, tugging at Harrow’s pants, but he was at the wrong angle to get them off. “Damn you Harrow, hurry the fuck up.”

Harrow nipped at him, teeth sharp but not quite breaking the skin, and Viren flinched back, head clearing slightly. He glared, but stopped trying to rip his pants off.

“If you want any more than this, you’ll have to prepare yourself,” Harrow said gently, holding a hand up between them, and using the backs of his long, darkened claws to pet Viren’s swollen lips. “I don’t wish to hurt you.”

Viren could see the problem. Embarrassment blooded him as Harrow’s words sunk in.

“You want-?” He bit his lip, cutting himself off. I am far too old for such kinky sex, Viren thought faintly.

But, the idea had some appeal. Harrow watching him do something so lewd. He could imagine the way his eyes would burn, how tightly Harrow’s hands would grip his legs- pull them apart so he could watch- Viren shut the thought down before it could get out of hand.

He pretended to think about it, but knew he’d already made up his mind.

“Oil is there.” Viren pointed towards his desk. “Drawer.”

It wasn’t something he indulged in often, and it tended to be when he was very stressed, and when he knew others would not disturb him. That certainly wasn’t when he was supposed to be sleeping.

Harrow cast him a smirk like he knew exactly why it was there, and climbed off him, pausing to lift Viren’s hand to his lips. The tender gesture in amidst all their haste stole his breath more effectively then Harrow’s kisses had, and he pressed his hands to his face, flushed for entirely different reasons.

You are not a teenager.  Pull yourself together.

Harrow had always been suave, pretty words falling from his lips like flowers, but they never made it through Viren’s defenses. This was just sex, right?

Harrow had returned while Viren was distracted, and his voice cut through Viren’s spinning thoughts.

“Against the headboard. Spread your legs for me.”

 He sucked in a hard breath, the allure  hitting him hard, like a punch to the diaphragm. But he didn’t move right away- the force of the first time wasn’t there, he could feel that if he tried, if he pushed back against it, it would snap. Harrow playing the gentleman Vampire in the bedroom was oddly exhilarating, and Viren relaxed, letting the Compulsion push him through actions he might not otherwise have the nerve for. He could still feel his skin practically glowing with the flustered blush that had yet to fade, as he settled against the headboard and slowly pulled his knees up, letting them fall apart and expose his half hard cock. Harrow hummed in appreciation, gold eyes fixed on Viren, and emboldened, he ran his hands down the insides of his thighs, licking his lips as he watched Harrow follow the gesture hungrily.

“Touch yourself for me, little witch. Slowly. Let me hear you.”  Harrow’s voice was husky, and Viren shivered as the order washed over him, sliding a hand over his half soft cock, squeezing it as he dipped his other hand down to fondle his own balls.

The sudden slide of Harrow’s hands up his legs broke his composure, and Viren dropped his head back, closing his eyes, fisting his cock, but still not pumping his hand. Not yet. He was good at teasing himself, after all this practise.

“Harrow,” Viren pleaded, but for what, he wasn’t really sure. Harrow’s hands clenched on his knees, spreading him – just like I thought, he’s so predictable- and his mouth was on the inside of Viren’s knee, just at the hard line of scar, kissing along the seam of injury and soft, tender skin.

“Give me the oil, or I’m not going to make it,” Viren warned, pulling his hands entirely off himself, and clenching them in the blankets. Harrow ignored him, laying soft kisses along the edges of his scar, as it crawled up his thigh. He ended up with Viren’s knee over his shoulder, crouched between his legs. The firelight played across his dark skin, casting him in warm shadows. He shamed the most beautiful of the castle’s bronzes, dark hair falling over his shoulders to hang by Viren’s flushed face, gold clasps catching the light and highlighting just how regal he was. A king. The very strongest of his race.

Ugh don’t ever tell him that he’ll get a fat head.

Although that was the point of this. Harrow sticking his fat head into Viren.

Harrow watched him for several long, silent moments, golden eyes glowing. Then he laid a tender kiss to the inside of Viren’s knee, and lifted the small bottle of solid oil from the blankets, twisting off the lid, and offering it to Viren. It smelled faintly of something sweet.

Viren took a steadying breath, and pushed two fingers in, digging a healthy scoop out. He was blushing again, but he was hungry for this now, hungry for Harrow’s body. It was an awkward reach, Harrow pushing too close to him, but Viren reached down between his own legs, and felt down past his balls, seeking his entrance.

This wasn’t something he indulged in often, not with his schedule and family. There wasn’t time to lay back and enjoy the feeling. And now he didn’t want to- he wanted to rush the prep, get to the part with Harrow pushing his hot cock into his willing body.

But that had to wait.

Viren grunted at the angle as he pushed a finger into himself, oil helping the slide. Harrow’s eyes were fixed on his hand, and the Vampire lifted his other knee, pulling Viren’s knee’s apart. Viren panted as Harrow’s claws tickled his skin, just barely brushing the soft insides of his thighs.

Harrow’s hot breath washed over his cock with every exhale. It was its own sort of torture, and he could feel the sweat that was starting to bead on his brow and he twisted his arm, pushing his hand farther and driving two fingers into his own body, fucking himself open slowly.

“You like this.” Said Viren, panting.

Harrow didn’t bother denying it.

A tickle of a thought played at the back of his mind as Harrow licked his lips, raptly watching Viren fuck himself on his own fingers. A fleeting thought about claws, that wandered away as Harrow’s voice broke his concentration.

“You look so good spread on your own fingers, little witch. Wanton, seeking your own end so desperately. Add another finger. The way your cock jumps when you curve your fingers.”

The orders hit Viren hard, and he didn’t even try to resist; shifting himself so he was resting on his side, legs open for Harrow, Viren pressed three fingers into himself and curled up towards that spot inside himself that made him moan, drop his head- want to keep his fingers there forever. His cock jumped against his stomach, dampness against his skin unnoticed by Viren but picked up with a hawk-like vigilance by Harrow.

“Don’t forget that this isn’t the main course.” Harrow chided. Not that he made any motion to stop Viren.

But he was right, and reluctantly, Viren slowed his hand, dropping his head back as his heart raced, edging back away from the high he’d been chasing. He pulled his fingers from his body, hissing at the sensation, and immediately missed them.

“Pants, now.” Damn that fucker for not being naked when he wanted him to be. He hated that empty feeling that came from preparation, the low burn of missed pleasure that made his heart speed up, his breath catch at the very idea of someone touching him.

The bed barely moved, and then Harrow was dragging him down the blankets by his hips, pulling him flat, and they were finally pressed bare skin to bare skin. When he tried to kiss him, Viren covered Harrow’s mouth and turned his head away.

“Fuck me, damn you.” He snarled, hungry and desperate. His hard cock was pressed between their bodies, only serving to wind him up farther. Harrow ground against him, smirking slowly, and kissed his neck instead.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Viren’s legs were over Harrow’s shoulders again, the Vampire’s lips against the hard knot of scar, and- far more importantly- the hot, blunt head of Harrow’s cock was pressed against Viren’s hole.

But not in. Frustrated with all this damn teasing, Viren threw an arm over his eyes, cursing out Harrow in Wiccan.

“I told you, Viren, you’ll have to tell me what you want.” Harrow kissed along his scarred knee, rocking temptingly against Viren, and the Warlock was already sick of this teasing, embarrassed with having his own want so blatantly on show. He reached down, intent on finishing himself and Harrow be damned, but Harrow’s allure strengthened voice halted the motion.

“Hands by your head, Viren.”

His hands dragged themselves up to the blankets by his head, and Viren thrashed in frustration, glaring at Harrow.

“You like this too much.” Said Viren, flushed, and too turned on to have patience for their game.

“So do you.” Countered Harrow.

Viren had no response for that, turning his face away and covering it with his arm. He was right, after all; he was loving every second of it, hot pleasure twisting through him every time Harrow forced him to expose his own want. To expose his body, flaws and all to the Vampire’s hungry eyes.

Even this torture was pleasurable, just another part of their damned game of cat and mouse; Harrow would tease him until he broke down and admitted to every filthy thought he’d entertained over the last few years. All the things he’d touched himself to during the cold nights, Harrow’s face, his hands, his touch, swimming through his mind.

Viren bit his lip, and kept silent.

Harrow’s mouth on his leg turned wetter, sharper. His teeth scraped along the soft edge of the scar, and Viren peeked out from under his elbow, looking down his body to Harrow. The Vampire was watching him with dark eyes, a question on his face.

Viren nodded slightly, and Harrow smiled.

This time the bite was sweeter, his body already shaking with Harrow’s touch, and the sink of his fangs into the soft inside of leg, between twisted lines of scar, was so much more intimate, so much more intense then the before. Viren’s hand clenched on the blankets as he twisted, back arching, mouth falling open in a shameless moan.

It wasn’t a bite to feed, but one to stoke the fires of his lust, to drive him past his own built up walls; a purely sexual act, and Harrow’s teeth remained inside his flesh for only a moment, but he sucked a dark, greedy mark into Viren’s skin none the less. Harrow touched the bruising mark once he was done, a look of pure satisfaction.

Viren was shaking, hand over his mouth, unable to touch his leaking cock thanks to Harrow’s compulsion. His heart felt like it was going to pound its way out of his chest, and if he didn’t come the second Harrow actually touched him, it’d be a miracle.

Harrow must have seen it on his face.

“No coming until I say.”  The order washed over him gently, and Viren took a deep breath, spitting out in a rush,

“Fuck me, fuck me like you said, take me apart and make me yell your name¸ Harrow-”  He never reached the end of his sentence.

Harrow fell upon him like a starving man, lifting Viren’s legs higher onto his shoulders, keeping one hand firm on his scarred knee and guiding his cock to the Warlock’s greased hole with the other. One sharp thrust, and the head of Harrow’s cock pushed in; Viren clenched on him, and Harrow put a hand on his belly, soothing him back into the sheets.

“Not enough prep,” he chided, breathlessly. Viren wanted to say something snarky, but he was too busy losing his brain to the feeling of Harrow’s cock slowly sliding into him, the stretch almost too much; uncomfortable, full. The feeling of the compulsion was like a vice grip on the base of his dick, and the only thing that kept him from coming immediately as Harrow bottomed out, pushing flush against him.

They both panted, pausing and waiting for Viren to adjust.

“You look good like this,” said Harrow, brushing sweaty hair away from Viren’s face.

The Warlock barked a short laugh, head falling back as Harrow thrust shallowly into him.

“What,” he managed, eventually, “Spread on your cock?”

Harrow hummed, tilting his head in consideration. A claw touched his stretched rip, tugging very delicately, and Viren bit his hand to keep the throaty noise contained.

“Well, of course. But I meant, like this,”  Harrow’s ghost of a touch brushed along Viren’s sweaty, flushed face, gentle along his cheek, tickling his beard. “Open.”

Ugh, one word shouldn’t have hit him in the chest like it did, but Viren was feeling a lot more frazzled and had his guard down, and all sorts of other excuses he’d tell himself later; his breathe caught, then rushed out of him.

This is just sex, he thought faintly.  

But Harrow had never looked at him like it was just sex. He wasn’t looking at him like that now; his eyes were on Viren’s face, as his hips snapped hard, driving the Warlock up the bed, knocking both their breathe away. He’d been right with his first assessment; this wasn’t going to last long.

“Let me come,” Viren blurted. His body felt like it was on a wire’s edge, strung between pleasure and pain, and he wanted that sweet release, wanted to feel the heat of Harrow as he used him to chase his own release.

Stars above, I have some things to work out. Harrow was a bad influence.

“Come for me, let me hear you. You may move your hands.” The chain of compulsions washed over him like physical blows, and Harrow hiked his legs up, sliding his hand along the bruised bitemark on the inside of Viren’s knee, squeezing it; he was leaning over the Warlock enough for Viren to get a hand around his neck as his hands  were released, short nails digging in hard to Harrow’s skin. The Vampire King seemed to like that very much; his pace quickened, and Viren came with a sharp cry, panting Harrow’s name over and over.

“Harrow – Harrow – Harrow-” panted Viren, as the Vampire continued to thrust into him, leaning back to pull Viren’s hips tighter against his, and picked up the pace. The room was filled with their ragged breathes and the fast, wet noise of Harrow driving his cock into Viren’s hole, each thrust dragging a groan out of the Warlock as his cock gave spurt after spurt of come over his stomach, body limp in Harrow’s grasp, but hand’s clenched in the blankets.

He was openly panting, face flushed, chanting Harrow’s name like it was a spell; the Vampire King never once took his eyes off his Warlock’s face, and stilled for a moment, gripping Viren’s hip hard.

“Viren,” He rasped, before spilling inside him.

It was hot, warmer then it should be, just like everything about Harrow. Viren felt it inside him, biting his lip at the feeling, and covering his mouth.

Harrow held him tight, thrusting hard, short thrusts, until he bent over Viren, breath as harsh as the Warlock’s. Viren lifted a hand, curling it through Harrow’s hair, and gently pulled him down; his softening cock slipped from him, and it was unpleasant, but the Vampire stroked his hand- claws almost normal, shadows of his primal form fading- down Viren’s spine, and they lay in the blankets, damp with sweat and cum.

At least the fact they’d forgotten to get under the blankets  would take care of the wet spot.

After they’d lain in silence for a time, Harrow’s hand caring through his hair, sweat drying and bodies cooling, Viren sat up. He desperately needed to bath- he could feel Harrow’s cum leak from him with the motion-  but there were other things he must do.

“Stay. Tonight. With me,” he said haltingly. It wasn’t actually a question; Viren wasn’t sure what Harrow’s intentions had been through the years, besides getting him into bed, but after all the time of the Vampire waiting for him to approve of his advances, return them in kind, he had a vague idea that if he didn’t invite him to stay, Harrow would disappear. They’d return to what they had been.

And he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

That slow, easy smile.

“Of course.”