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Chapter Text

“Fuck!”

The curse tore its way from Olrox’s throat, clenching his fist around nothing, yanking at the rope that bound him to the bed. He could break free in a heartbeat if he truly wanted to, they both knew that, but he was trying to be good. Mizrak had wanted to try something, and far be it from Olrox to tell the man no.

Mizrak, for all his claims to abhor suffering, seemed to be enjoying himself as he pulled his hand away from Olrox’s cock once again, leaving him hanging over the edge but not quite able to drop. He hummed, trailing a hand over Olrox’s hip, up his side.

“That word is not in the Bible, vampire.” His voice held a low tone to it, even and calm in the face of Olrox’s torment. They’d been doing this for the better part of an hour, Mizrak bringing Olrox to the brink again and again, only to deny him at the last moment. It was a cruel torment, one made all the worse by Mizrak’s promise: if Olrox could correctly recite the Bible passage, he would get to cum.

Only he couldn’t remember the stupid passage.

He’d tried; by Mizrak’s God, he’d tried. But he’d never heard the passage before today, and it was a long one, with a list in the middle that he just couldn’t get the order of right. It was an impossible task, one Mizrak had only presented after Olrox was already tied up and wanting, already nearly over the edge.

But still he tried.

“Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are these,” he began, his voice shaking ever so slightly. Mizrak smiled above him, like the cat that got the cream, and just watched as he attempted the passage once again. “Adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idola-”

He gasped, bucking his hips when Mizrak grabbed his cock again, beginning to stroke in agonizingly slow motions. Just that little touch was enough to send him hurtling towards the edge again, but not quite enough to tip him over. It was maddening.

“I-Idolatry, witchcraft, variance-”

Mizrak pulled his hand away.

“No,” he hissed, bucking his hips against thin air, trying to get any sort of friction against his weeping cock. He tugged at the restraints again, the rope of them digging into his skin as he pulled, squirming where he lay on the bed in the cheap little inn.

“Please,” he begged, barely even aware he was doing it. Had he had more presence of mind, had he not been denied for the better part of an hour, he never would have lowered himself like this. But he was not in his right mind; he’d been overtaken by lust, consumed by it, the way Mizrak’s scriptures warned of. He was too far gone to care about propriety now. All he cared about was Mizrak’s hand on his aching cock.

“Are you crying?”

The voice was infuriatingly calm, looking down at Olrox from where he sat on the bed, looking into his eyes. Just as he said, Olrox could feel a single tear escape his eye, sliding down his cheek and dripping onto the bed below him.

“You’re crying.”

“You’re cruel,” Olrox shot back, panting even though he didn’t need the breath. “I thought your God was supposed to be merciful.”

“Oh, I am being merciful,” Mizrak smiled, running the tips of his fingers along Olrox’s inner thighs, just near to where he wanted them, but never near enough. “I’m giving you a chance to earn it. I could just sit here and deny you all night, and then leave in the morning without letting you cum at all.”

“You wouldn’t,” Olrox said, though that little voice in the back of his head argued otherwise.

“Would you like to find out?”

There was a long moment of silence between them, staring each other down, before Olrox eventually looked away. “Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are these,” he began, his gaze flicking back to Mizrak and his stupid, self-satisfied smile.

“Adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance,” his voice trembled slightly as he spoke, looking down at Mizrak’s hands, so near his cock. He reached a hand up, wrapping around him as a smile played at the man’s lips, beginning to stroke him maddeningly slow.

“Emulations, wrath, strife,” he continued, his body shaking from the effort of keeping still as Mizrak continued to stroke him, moving just a touch faster. A whimper tore from his throat despite his best efforts, gasping and tugging at the ropes once more.

“Sed-seditions, heresies, envyings, drunkenness-”

Mizrak’s hand was gone again.

“Fuck, no, please- Mizrak, please!” He arched his back up off the bed, chasing the monk’s hand as he pulled it away. But Mizrak held no mercy for a damned creature such as him. He gasped, another tear leaking its way out of his eye and down his cheek, dripping down onto the bed below him.

Mizrak just smiled, reaching up and brushing the tear off Olrox’s cheek. “Rest in the Lord and wait patiently for him,” he murmured, chuckling slightly at the state he’d left Olrox in. Sadistic bastard.

Olrox was panting now, tugging once more on the ropes that bound him to the bed. He let out a quiet keening noise, looking up at Mizrak through half lidded eyes, a miserable frown on his face.

“Now the works of the flesh are manifest,” he began again, every nerve in his body trembling as he started to recite the passage once again. “Which are these: adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness, idolatry, witchcraft-“

His breath hitched when Mizrak grabbed his cock again, moving his hand up and down in slow, agonizing strokes. “I-idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance.”

His hand was moving expertly now, twisting and rubbing his cock with practiced strokes, driving Olrox towards the edge once again. A whine escaped him, making Mizrak pause his motions, and Olrox hurried to continue the verse. “Emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies, envyings, murderers.”

The words spilled from his lips, and it was all he could hope that he was getting them right, the only sign he was correct being that Mizrak had continued his slow stroking over Olrox’s aching cock. His touch was feather light – any heavier and Olrox would have cum then and there – trailing and twisting along his straining erection.

“Drunkenness, revellings, and such like.” He paused for just a moment after he completed the list, looking up at Mizrak to ensure he’d gotten it right. When Mizrak gave a little nod, he took a small, unneeded breath, continuing on with the rest of the passage.

“Of the which I tell you before,” he said, voice trembling ever so slightly with the effort of holding himself back, of staying prone on the bed and not just ending this torment now. But for Mizrak, he would try. “As I have also told you in time past.”

He was so close now. Just one more line, if he could only remember one more line, all this would end. He could feel every agonizing stroke, setting his nerves on fire like silver on flesh, the kind of pain he never wanted to end. He took a breath he didn’t need, continuing his sentence.

“That which they do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God.”

And he pulled his hand away.

Chapter Text

Olrox arched up into Mizrak’s touch, trying to chase it as he pulled away. He’d done it right, he was sure he had, so why was he pulling away now? Had he intended this from the beginning? Was he ever planning to let him finish, or was he just going to deny him the entire time?

But then Mizrak’s mouth was on him, and oh.

After so long on the edge, it hardly took him any time at all to tip over. Mizrak’s mouth around his cock, hot and wet and perfect, was all he needed. Within moments of Mizrak’s mouth around him, he was cumming, shooting his seed down the monk’s throat. Mizrak stayed around him, his nose brushing against the curls at the base of Olrox’s cock, swallowing him down. His throat worked around Olrox’s length, riding wave after wave as his vision went white.

Eventually, the waves tapered out, and Olrox was floating. He hadn’t felt this disconnected from his body in a long time, not since his turning all those hundreds of years ago. To feel like this now should have been terrifying, especially a human making him feel this way. He was vulnerable, open to attack from any angle.

But there was no fear in him.

He could barely feel his body, everything floating past him in a haze. He felt Mizrak pull his mouth away, yes, but it was some far away place, not here and now. Somewhere distantly, he felt the bed dip, and moments later there was a softness against his lips. He parted them slightly, having enough presence of mind to kiss Mizrak back, feeling his hand run through his sweat-dampened hair. Olrox could taste the salt of himself on Mizrak’s tongue before he pulled away, the kiss brief.

“Are you with me, vampire?” The voice was distant, as if Olrox was hearing him through a haze, but he heard him regardless. Olrox gave a small nod, though he didn’t speak in response; words felt too heavy right now. Instead he just leaned into the brush of fingers against his cheekbone, blinking up at Mizrak above him.

Mizrak gave him a small smile – if Olrox didn’t know any better, he would have called it gentle – and he reached a hand up to his forehead, brushing his hair away from his skin. His touch was warm against Olrox’s cool skin, the heat of his beating heart leeching into the vampire. Olrox marvelled at it sometimes, in these calm, quiet moments, how a man such as Mizrak could deign himself to be with a monster such as him. He’d never come up with an answer, in those moments where he allowed his mind to wander to those deeper, darker corners; never quite unwrapped the mystery that was the man of God.

Maybe it was some sort of misplaced pity. He’d seen a creature that strayed from God’s light and taken it upon himself to guide him back to the flock. It could be hatred, taking the very monster he was fighting and stripping him bare, unraveling all the different parts of him until nothing remained. It could even be as simple as a carnal need of the flesh, and Olrox had been nothing more than a convenient place to stick his cock.

Whatever the reason, it hardly mattered now that Olrox was spread beneath him like a sacrificial lamb.

He could feel a gentle touch on his wrist, and upon opening his eyes – when had he closed them? – he saw Mizrak bent over his body, untying the knots of rope that held him to the bedframe. They were sturdy knots, designed to hold a vampire, so they weren’t coming undone easily. But for now, Olrox was content to just lay there, letting Mizrak hover over him as he worked at the rope.

It took a few minutes, but eventually Olrox felt the rope around his wrist give a touch, before falling away completely. Mizrak let a satisfied huff past his lips before getting up, crossing over the bed to tend to Olrox’s other wrist. This one took less time, now that Mizrak knew what he was doing, and before too long, that too fell away.

“I should get back to the abbey,” Mizrak said, standing up off the bed. He wasn’t quite sure why he did it – he wasn’t even sure it had been a conscious choice – but before he could take more than a step, Olrox reached out and grabbed Mizrak’s wrist, holding him in place.

“Lay with me,” he said, his voice low and rough with something he couldn’t quite name, and wasn’t sure he would want to if he could. “Just for a little while. Surely your Abbot will forgive your absence for a few minutes.”

Mizrak turned back to face him when he spoke, surprise clear in the raised eyebrow and the slight upwards tilt of his mouth. Regardless of his surprise at the unusual request, he acquiesced, and moved back towards the bed.

With an effort that felt positively herculean in his current state, Olrox moved to the side to make room for Mizrak, the bed creaking under him as he lay down. Olrox smiled to himself at the sight, the monk laying down fully clothed, legs crossed at the ankles and yet somehow still looking relaxed. Without giving himself the time to question his decision, he did something he’d only done once before, an ocean away on a bed of deerskin rather than cotton, speaking in a tongue the white man despised.

He rolled onto his side, draped an arm over Mizrak’s stomach, and laid his head on his chest.

This close, he could hear the hitch in Mizrak’s breath, the slight increase of his heartbeat when he moved. It was obvious the monk hadn’t been expecting it, and Olrox couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t a man that one would expect softness from, all sharp lines and sharper fangs. But there were rare moments where he allowed himself to be exposed, to be gentle, if the circumstances presented themselves. This was one such circumstance.

There was a moment where neither of them moved, content to just lay there entangled with one another, before he felt Mizrak’s hand begin to card through his hair. He smiled just slightly, letting a pleased hum escape his throat as he tucked himself closer to Mizrak, breathing in his scent.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so…” Mizrak trailed off, searching for the word.

“Weak?”

“Calm,” he corrected, continuing to run his fingers through Olrox’s hair.

That was a word Olrox hadn’t put to the feeling, but yes, it did fit. He was calm, calmer than he’d been in years. It was odd, the realization. He’d never been one for calm; always moving, always scheming, always needing to watch his back lest he lose his life. But here, in a small room in a small inn in a small country across a large ocean, he felt more at peace than he had in a decade.

Mizrak chuckled, brushing a strand of hair back from Olrox’s forehead. “If I’d known this was all it took to get you to be still, I would have done it ages ago.”

Olrox rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he turned, hiding his expression in the hair on Mizrak’s chest. “You’re a sadist. I think you’re worse than I am.”

The monk barked a laugh at that, running his hand through Olrox’s hair and down along his back, making him shiver. “Maybe I am,” he said, the smile clear in every word. “But I was never like this until I met you.”

Olrox hummed slightly, lifting his face from where it was buried in Mizrak’s chest, tilting it up to look at him. “Good,” he said, the same playful grin still stretched across his face. “I’m rubbing off on you.”

Mizrak rolled his eyes, a faint smile playing at his lips, like he was trying to hold it back but he was unsuccessful. He then turned his eyes away, glancing out the window to the sliver of dawn beginning to lighten the streets of Machecoul.

“I really should go,” he murmured, already beginning to extricate himself from under Olrox. “It’s Sunday and I’m already late, the Abbot will have my head if I arrive after the parishioners.”

Olrox sighed, but he’d settled back into his body now, and had enough presence of mind not to argue the monk’s departure. He pulled himself off Mizrak, laying on the bed and watching him stand. “Yes, yes, go to your Abbot.”

He smiled, a hint of mischief behind his eyes. “Perhaps one day I will earn as much of your attention as the Forgemaster commands.”

Mizrak just sighed, gathering his scabbard from where he’d left it resting on a chair, buckling it back around his waist. He didn’t deign to answer Olrox’s remark, doing up the laces on his boots. Once he was fully dressed, he stood, walking over to the door and placing a hand on the handle before pausing, not turning around when he spoke.

“We’ll have to do this again. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were almost sweet today.”

Olrox scoffed, ignoring the pang that went through him, forcing him closer to that feeling that had settled in his gut ever since he’d laid his head on Mizrak’s chest. Before he could respond, Mizrak turned the handle, pulling the door open and stepping out into the dawning morning without another word.

The door shut with a soft click, and only then did Olrox stand. His legs were still a touch unstable from all they’d done that night, but they carried him to the door all the same. He stopped right in front of the wood, one hand resting on the brass handle. Taking a breath he didn’t need, he pressed his forehead against the wood of the door, and finally allowed himself to confront the feeling in his gut. Foreign and familiar all at once, one he’d never expected to feel again, not since it was torn from him a decade ago.

He was hopelessly in love with the monk from the abbey, and he had no idea what to do about it.