Chapter Text
Olrox didn’t expect to find anything of real interest when he crossed the ocean to France. The air stank, the people and streets were filthy, the nights were colder. It was even worse than what he was used to in the colonies at home. He’d received the odd invite from the alleged Vampire Messiah, along with a handful of rumors and whispers that said a great many things, none of them anything he believed in. But he heard enough to make the crossing worthwhile, so he fed well before he left.
He missed home with a worsening ache the greater the distance between port and the ship grew. He’d traveled much in his very long life, but his home was his, and part of the reason he was going on this trip was to get ahead of a new possible threat from Europe. After all, the last time he’d waited around for trouble to find him, a vampire killer had arrived and killed the only person he ever loved.
European vampires had a particular personality to them, and these were little different than the ones who’d crossed the ocean to slaughter his people. They were almost grotesque, given most of them had clearly never gone farther than a hedge maze or perhaps a nearby alley to kill a peasant. What mattered more was the talk of a forgemaster, a type of creature he hadn’t come across in years. He wondered how this one operated, and he wondered how the alleged messiah planned to use whoever it was. Because sooner or later, whatever happened here would cross the ocean, too, and truly be his problem.
He managed to avoid being dragged into most of the gross decadence on display among the vampires, and remained somewhat unobtrusive as he wandered, using his powers to sometimes disappear into smoke none of the vampires even noticed. He discovered the little protective guard the forgemaster/abbot had, but was averse to negotiating with the abbot directly. That would get back to Drolta, and he didn’t care for the woman investigating his affairs. It was surely a lucky sign that the abbot’s right-hand man was a delectable-looking morsel, and one who seemed to have something of a head on his shoulders, unlike most of the zealots here. Olrox had been truly surprised when Mizrak managed to slip by him.
It was the moment the human flipped him against a stone wall that Olrox knew: I need to fuck him.
Mizrak had a sharp tongue, but Olrox could smell the desire on him, too, when Olrox straddled him in the courtyard. Despite the typical Christian zealot need to quote scripture, Olrox could feel Mizrak's hard and hungry gaze on Olrox's back as he walked away. When Mizrak found him later, looking annoyed about it all, as if Olrox had somehow forced him to come, Olrox barely had to invite him into a quiet little room at an inn and lock the door before Mizrak had pushed him against a wall for a kiss.
Who’s the vampire here? Olrox thought as he pulled Mizrak close, burying his right hand in the man's short, dark hair. It had been a while since Olrox had been with anyone, particularly anyone in the state of excellent health Mizrak was, and Olrox’s hands moved over the man’s thick, muscular arms in appreciation. The man’s facial hair didn’t rub him painfully, at least: he clearly kept it well-trimmed. Olrox hooked his right leg around the back of Mizrak’s left, and Mizrak responded by biting his lip.
Olrox laughed at the audacity. Which of us eats their targets, exactly?
Mizrak moved them to the bed, only pulling away briefly to undo his clothes.
Olrox helped him with a smile and a quiet, “Goodness, are you running late for something? You’re young yet, for a human, you won’t die any time soon.”
Mizrak only glared at him, half his clothes gone, and stood back to take care of his pants.
Olrox let his eyes travel over the man’s delicious figure, and dissolved his own clothes with a thought, only grinning wider when Mizrak looked at him in surprise. “First time with a vampire? Or first time with a vampire with powers like mine?”
“…Both,” Mizrak replied. And for a moment there was a bit of hesitation. The first real sign of it Olrox had detected. It was cute in a way. Olrox didn't imagine a man like Mizrak showed vulnerability often, and Olrox wanted to appreciate the gift for what it was.
“I’ll try to make it a good one, then,” Olrox said, tilting his head a little so his earrings tinkled slightly. “Though you seemed just fine on your own.”
That seemed to encourage Mizrak back, and he bracketed his arms around Olrox on the bed for another kiss. Olrox could feel the human’s body heat, hear the fast beat of his heart, the increased pace of his breathing. For a while Olrox let him control it. He appreciated the way Mizrak explored his neck, his collarbone. There was curiosity in all of Mizrak, and the fever pitch movement seemed to slow down as he gave into that.
“Surprised you haven’t burned up yet?” Olrox couldn’t help but comment. “From kissing a monster?” He'd heard any number of insults over the years. They all blended together. There were any number of reasons Mizrak might be averse to what they were doing based on his church's teachings.
Mizrak only gave him a light glare.
Olrox grinned and flipped them so Mizrak was on his back and Olrox was crouched over him. The human tensed at the movement, but Olrox said, “Let me appreciate you for a bit. A body like yours deserves to be appreciated.”
Mizrak gave him a suspicious look, but Olrox moved down to kiss the soft brown skin of Mizrak's stomach, staying tantalizingly close but away from Mizrak's cock. Olrox wrapped his hands over those delicious hips, and squeezed those wonderfully thick thighs…
“No biting,” Mizrak warned as Olrox lowered his mouth to Mizrak’s inner right thigh.
Olrox looked up to see Mizrak leaning against the headboard, a hard but hungry expression on his face. His right hand clutched the sheets. He was nervous.
Olrox chuckled. “I wasn’t planning to, anyway.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but he hadn’t meant to draw blood anyway, and that was clearly what Mizrak was worried about. Having a survival instinct wasn't a bad thing, Olrox supposed. He licked an exaggerated stripe along the Mizrak’s thigh muscles, and felt the shudder Mizrak made. He pulled the man’s thigh up so he could lick the underside, lightly flicking over the sides of Mizrak's knee. He could still feel Mizrak’s tenseness. There was still a lack of trust, for all the man’s cock clearly showed he very much wanted to get laid, too.
Olrox couldn’t help it and moved back up to kiss those lips again, wrapping his hands around the man’s head, straddling that thick torso again. He pulled away briefly to ask, “Are you going to fuck me, Mizrak?”
Mizrak tensed beneath him.
Olrox chuckled. “I fear you’ll run away if I try to do it. And I wouldn’t mind.” He grinned. “I’d love to see those thighs put to good use, anyway.”
Mizrak swallowed. His hand reached out then, and almost delicately pulled Olrox back. That was almost more surprising than anything else, and Olrox leaned into the kiss.
From there it took little enough encouragement to get Mizrak back into the proper mood, and Olrox was sitting in Mizrak’s lap, bouncing on the man’s cock. His arms were wrapped around Mizrak’s shoulders, squeezing tightly, and reminding himself not to squeeze too tightly, for risk of crushing the man’s bones.
Mizrak’s arms were wrapped around Olrox’s back. His fingers bore into Olrox’s skin, too weak to break it, and his powerful hips were fast. He breathed heavily against Olrox’s chest. The heat of him inside Olrox was delicious. It was the first real time Olrox had felt warm in this foreign place. And when the man released, Olrox soon followed him, losing himself in the bliss.
A nice diversion, so far from home.
“Thank you…”
Olrox blinked, surprised to hear Mizrak say that.
Mizrak’s head was bowed, his sweaty forehead leaning against Olrox’s shoulder, in the shadow of Olrox’s long, dark hair. And he’d said it almost as a whisper.
“…You’re welcome,” Olrox replied, just as quietly. “A man like you should be savored.” He placed a gentle kiss on the tip of Mizrak’s ear. “Do tell me you’re ready to try another round, though? I had a very long trip across a wide ocean to get here, after all.”
Mizrak raised his head to gaze up at Olrox, a firm light in his eyes.
Olrox grinned. “I knew I chose well.”
After Mizrak’s little departing jab about service, Olrox almost wondered if the man wouldn’t come back. But he did. Again and again, not always at night. Once he was even waiting for Olrox, standing alone by the window, looking out over Machecoul. He seemed to appreciate silence just as much as he appreciated cutting enemies down. Olrox appreciated that about him, too.
“Is there so little else to draw you away?” Olrox asked one morning, as they lay side by side in the bed, with Olrox tracing lines on Mizrak’s left arm. “Surely a man like you must have many admirers.”
“I’m limited in my ability to… entertain such things,” Mizrak said in his quiet way.
Olrox smiled. “You didn’t act like someone who hasn’t had many… entertainments.”
Mizrak snorted. “I know when to take advantage of rare opportunities. And when I make a decision, I commit.”
I need to stop picking believers, Olrox thought. “I’m just an opportunity?” He joked.
Mizrak studied him. “You are… I don’t know.” There was worry in that gaze. Worry over his faith, worry about his abbot. Worry about whether Olrox would kill him, perhaps. Not love, surely not. The man loved his god more than anything else. Humans fell easily for a pretty face, but Mizrak seemed more practical than that.
Olrox gave him a soft smile. “It sounds like it’s hard for you to relax. I feel like the only times you do are brief, and during sex.”
Mizrak gave him a thoughtful look. “My duties require focus. There are many who would take advantage of me if I relaxed too much.”
“Yet you’re here with me,” Olrox said with a grin. “Don’t you wonder if someone’s running rampant while you’re not there to mind them?”
Mizrak narrowed his eyes at Olrox, clearly expecting a trap.
Olrox chuckled and leaned forward to kiss his furrowed brows. “Don’t worry so much. Or at least pretend for me.”
It was a comfort in this strange place, especially as Olrox realized he’d stepped even more into a den of vipers than he first thought – or at least a far more dangerous one. He’d seen all too many times what the Europeans could do when they were unleashed, but this was something new. His thoughts filled more and more with how he was going to tear this place down, but Mizrak stayed by him, almost like the man needed his own rock amidst the madness. And increasingly, Olrox thought about how he was going to get Mizrak out of it in one piece.
He knew he was probably too far gone when Richter Belmont returned and was about to fight Mizrak. And Olrox, who had been watching from nearby, merely curious, instinctively stopped forward to call the boy's attention. He hadn't quite expected the child to run like a monster was on his tail, but well... it meant Richter didn't tangle with Mizrak. It meant Mizrak was safe from one fight. And that made Olrox's pulse calm, and let him smile at Mizrak, even as they pretended there was nothing between them. And even as Olrox hoped Drolta felt for the charade.
Sentiment was a dangerous thing here, and Olrox knew it. He wasn’t looking for love again. He repeatedly thought about ending it. Before it got worse. A few stolen moments together, kisses in a quiet inn while vampires plotted taking over the world… There was too much at stake. When Drolta confronted him about his feeding habits, he knew she was sniffing for information. If she found Mizrak... Olrox didn't know what would happen. Nothing good. He spent that night alone, glad Mizrak didn't have questions for him, questions Mizrak couldn't answer. Maybe Mizrak was spooked by them encountering each other around others, as well. Maybe things were already over...
He laughed at how anxious he felt over it. It's just a temporary thing, you fool.
So he was surprised the following evening to find Mizrak in Olrox's room, staring out at Machecoul. He seemed purely contemplative, so Olrox left him alone and sat on the bed, reading Emmanuel's book. It was such an interesting little tome, and Olrox wasn't sure what he was going to do with it, even as he was formulating plans. The night creature's threatening singing was amusing background to it all.
"Why was the Belmont boy so afraid of you?" Mizrak's voice was thoughtful, and a little neutral. It was like they were discussing simple things, and not decades old hatred.
Olrox had wondered how much he should share, if he should share any of it all. He'd never spoken with anyone about it. Years of knowing how dangerous it was to care for anyone were too ingrained within him. But they were safe enough in this quiet room, and who would Mizrak tell anyway, and what had he to gain from it? And as he spoke, he felt like he was cutting himself open, offering himself up on a platter for Mizrak to poke at as he pleased. It was foolish, and overly romantic. But Olrox was a bit worried, and perhaps that was ruining his judgment.
"Then Julia Belmont killed him," Olrox said. He'd run over it a thousand, thousand times in his mind. What he might have done differently. How it was all his fault. And how it couldn't be changed.
"Because he was a vampire," Mizrak said, making Olrox stiffen slightly. "And you did that to him?" His eyes were furious, his voice accusing, and Olrox regretted ever opening his mouth. "Did you even ask permission?"
Olrox was across the room before he even realized it, all the fury of years past in him as he said, "I was in love with him. I wanted him to be with me forever." He was so close to Mizrak's angry face that their lips were nearly touching, and Olrox searched those angry, burning eyes for any trace of compassion or realization. But all he saw conviction, disgust, and rejection. Fine, he thought. If you're going to be cruel, then have the truth, if it's the last thing we say to each other.
“And is that what you plan for me?” Mizrak asked. There was challenge in that. Their relationship had been all about challenge in a lot of ways: how far they could push each other before someone walked away. And Olrox was slightly unsure if this was another one of those: Mizrak pushing to see what Olrox would do. But Olrox wasn't sure what would happen if he pushed back in this instance. He'd already seen what happened once with that scenario. Mizrak's words spoke of some kind of future, even as he rejected a possible one as a vampire. Did he want more, and was too afraid because of how he'd been brought up to admit it properly?
But if it was genuine... Olrox had known from the start he was playing with fire by taking up with a monk. Mizrak's comments and looks often showed how little he thought of Olrox's vampirism, and Olrox hadn't been surprised by that. And even now, facing down the burning disgust, a part of Olrox wanted to say, “Yes, I can make you strong enough to survive all this. To escape from here. Just let me." He'd grown strong enough now that if he was home, he could crush anyone who threatened those he looked after.
But no, Olrox didn't need the kind of coercion Mizrak was talking about. Olrox had no desire to force someone to be with him that way. If Mizrak wanted more, he could just ask. Olrox was clearly over the edge in this relationship, and needed to pull back, before he was hurt again. In a way it was a comfort, because respecting Mizrak's rejection gave Olrox an excuse to pull back, to let anger buffer him against anything else. So Olrox simply smiled and stepped away, giving them both space. “Of course not, Mizrak. I’m not in love with you,” he said, feeling like saying the words aloud cut at him. He wasn't sure why: this wasn’t love, honestly. But it wasn’t nothing, either. Admitting it shouldn't make a difference.
But as Olrox gazed back at those focused and beautiful bright eyes, he saw something... slump slightly. And Olrox realized it had indeed been a challenge that Olrox had failed.
Olrox parted his lips, looking for something else to say, but Mizrak turned away to gaze back out at Machecoul.
This is how it should be, Olrox thought, ignoring the pain in his chest. We're just two people looking for some physicality while the world falls apart. They didn't need to get more entangled with each other. It didn't matter that there was some form of hurt on Mizrak's face, because what had he expected after saying all of that? Olrox had opened himself up and Mizrak had spat back at him.
Olrox felt an old wound of loss opening up inside of him, filling him with a sense of failure and anger, but it was all directed at himself.