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Why am I doing this to myself?
Mizrak splashed some fresh water into his face with both hands and left them there, covering his eyes.
He had dedicated so many years to abstinence and service to God. He had chosen a strict life, detached from the pleasures of the flesh and devoted to protecting all what the Church deemed good and true.
And yet, there he was, serving an abbot who turned corpses into hellish abominations in the name of God, and having sexual intercourse with a creature of the night. A vampire.
A male one, to top it all.
He sighed and took a piece of cloth to dry his face. When he finally looked at himself in the mirror, he saw the weight of his own contradictions in his eyes.
However, his attention changed focus the instant his gaze drifted to the reflection of the man still lying naked on the bed behind him. Their eyes crossed, and Mizrak felt the almost paranormal pull of those fiercely glowing green irises.
Why am I doing this to myself?
Olrox contemplated the other man’s muscular back with slightly reluctant delight.
A Christian believer. Celibate. Human.
Another human.
He had been trying to convince himself this was just a satisfaction for a need. A game. A distraction while he was gathering information on that self-proclaimed vampire Messiah.
But deep inside he knew he was flirting with disaster.
Why did he have to always choose humans? And why precisely that kind? The loyal, the righteous, the dreamers, the idealists. The complicated ones. Why couldn't he content himself going for the ones he could easily forget?
But no. He had always been like that. A romantic. A damned sentimental.
He had learned to disguise his feelings with practice through the centuries, but he hadn't been able to make them disappear. He could be calculating and cold… until he just couldn't, and the overwhelming need for warmth washed over him.
That warmth he had found in the eyes and arms of a man whose real nature remained concealed behind a thick build and a stern face. A man just like himself.
He would have wanted to, perhaps, embrace him tenderly and caress that face softly with his fingertips… and yet, he had just fucked him.
Which had been nice, of course, but somehow… not enough.
I should go.
That was the thought that crossed Mizrak’s mind as he stepped away from the mirror. He should get dressed and leave. And that was truly his intention as he walked beside the bed.
But those eyes were there, pulling.
Against his better judgement and conscience, he stopped midway to where his clothes were, his eyes fixed on the ground. With a blank gesture, he turned around and sat on the border of the mattress, defeated, weak, torn between the urge of leaving and the temptation of staying. Not even daring to turn around to look at the vampire again.
Not even daring to breathe when he felt his cold hands on him.
I should go.
Olrox knew. This had no future. It might have been fun. Entertaining. Maybe even interesting. But it had been just a part of his scheme and would probably never happen again.
Maybe that was exactly why Olrox couldn't bring himself to leave.
So he didn't. Instead, he sat up on the bed and extended his arms, wrapping them around Mizrak's waist from behind. Softly. Almost tenderly.
Almost… lovingly.
He felt the knight’s muscles tense up under his touch, his breath stopping for a second and then quickening. Olrox tilted towards him, letting the tip of his nose slide along Mizrak's earlobe as he got close enough to rest his chin on his shoulder.
Olrox almost felt his surrender.
Damn you.
Why was this worse than the savage sex they had had ten minutes ago? Why did it hurt more when that damn vampire was pretending to care?
“Damn you,” Mizrak repeated out loud this time, under his breath.
He heard Olrox laugh softly.
“Too late for that,” he joked, his raspy voice caressing Mizrak’s ear. He could imagine Olrox’s smile right now, the tips of his fangs showing between his lips.
That thought sent irrepressible shivers down his spine.
The knight turned around, his gaze instantly pinned on the vampire’s unnatural green eyes. They were imbued with some kind of spell, no doubt, because Mizrak could have sworn there was an impossible shadow of tenderness in them he hadn't seen before.
But he did not want to see. He just wanted this to end… or maybe condemn himself altogether.
He closed his eyes and threw himself into Olrox’s lips.
Damn you.
Olrox felt Mizrak melting into their kiss and something inside him melted too.
Soon, the knight’s arms were around him and he found himself being pushed down against the mattress again, all reticence forgotten. Mizrak kissed his mouth, licked his neck, bit his shoulder, absorbing him with a desperation tainted with anger.
But Olrox could take his anger. He could take whatever Mizrak needed to throw at him. He knew he had the upper hand: he was stronger, older, and he had nothing to lose, neither his unexisting faith nor the concept of his own self.
I don't even have a soul to lose, do I?, he thought to himself, cynically.
But deep inside he wasn't so sure.
Stop being so gentle.
Mizrak groaned as Olrox's hands caressed his hair and his face.
Don't let me think you care. Don't make me doubt your wickedness.
But Olrox's touch wasn't one of a monster. There was something there. Emotions. Feelings.
A soul, even.
Mizrak’s rage subsided and he inadvertently slowed down his pace, and went deeper and softer.
Stop being so gentle.
Olrox embraced Mizrak's body with arms and legs.
Don't let me think you care. Don't make me hope for something better.
He felt Mizrak pushing against him, his heat, his strength, all of his body but also his soul entangled in the perfect mess they were making together.
When ecstasy came, it came for both of them at the same time.
Stay.
That was what Olrox's eyes were telling him when they remained a brief moment staring into each other after that second time.
And that's why Mizrak got up, precisely because he did want it. To stay. To go at it again. To spend the day in Olrox's bed and maybe wake up beside him at sundown.
But the sun was still out and the illusion was fading.
His faith wasn't. Faith was the only thing he could hang to. Faith would be there for him as long as he believed.
He couldn't trust that Olrox would.
Stay.
That wasn't what came out from his mouth, but it was what Olrox was saying when he rested his body against Mizrak's back and put his hands on his shoulders, as the man continued dressing up. He took it as a sign of Mizrak’s trust that he didn't stiffen up, that he didn't step away immediately.
For a couple of seconds, he stayed.
And then he did take a step away from him and closer to that misguided faith of his.
Olrox let him go. It wasn't his place to stop him. Mizrak had to see for himself.
And he could always keep watch from the shadows.