Work Text:
There was innate beauty in how light filtered through stained glass. The vibrant, countless pieces of coloured glass all joined together into figures from the scriptures, spilling into mesmerising patterns onto the floors and furniture as the day melted by. As a child he had found it hard to stay focused during mass, his eyes always distracted by the pretty allure of ethereal colour.
Now, light spilled inside the small church like a comforting blanket. The small building sat modestly at the foot of the town, far from the vampire infested abbey, his only company that of the few peasants which came inside to pray or confess to the priest who sat near the entrance. Mizrak kneeled by the altar, staring up, delving into a small moment of contemplation.
Perhaps contemplation would make Heaven forgive the sin of the flesh he had partaken in. Years of being celibate, years keeping his inner desires locked tight, years ignoring the way his eyes stayed a tad too long on the bodies of well formed men. And now he was on his knees in a poorly kept wooden floor, staring absently as the sun travelled across the floorboards, unsure how to even start repenting. How could one even begin to atone, anyway? He and his companions were mingling with vampires. They were actively feeding into the new messiah delusion. Which of his sins was worse in the eyes of God? The vampire , or the vampires ? Or were both equally as damning?
The man he had laid with, who had eyes like a serpent and fangs thrice as sharp, wasn’t even alive - the bible made no mention of how sinful or not it was to lay with the sentient walking dead. It mentioned not falling prey to temptation, denying the devil as much as one could, but remained silent on his particular ailment.
What little people visited the church slowly started to leave as the light cast lower and lower. The solitude made his mind wander.
Perhaps he wasn’t interpreting the Lord’s intentions correctly. Perhaps this was temptation, yes, but not one meant to punish him. After all, Mizrak seemed to be the only one in the abbey who didn’t believe for even a second that the new messiah was an undead leech. Perhaps it was no punishment at all the way the other vampire appeared outside the garden, pressing him to the floor and tempting him with his finely shaped lips and well carved cheekbones, his gleaming eyes and precise hands, his well sculpted body and sweet tongue - perhaps all of that was something... more.
The Lord worked in mysterious ways. He needed to pray more, listen more, see if enlightenment would befall him sooner than later.
-
The church bells sang, signalling seven in the afternoon. The church itself was growing dimmer, and with it, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
The thing about churches was that when they grew empty, regardless of their glory and comfort as house of God, the air acquired a certain quality. An ever-present cold began to drape across the walls, touching everything with icy fingers and chilling the candles regardless of season. Three were lit on a candelabra over the altar, courtesy of a member of the clergy before he left for the day. Their orange glow didn’t hamper the cold.
What did was the weightless pressure rising between his shoulders as he kneeled by the altar, lips parted and frozen on the last syllable of the Ave Maria he had been absently muttering. Apparently, like a mouse which misses the piercing gaze of the cat ready to leap from around the corner, he too had missed the smokey presence of a venomous snake quite ready to have a bite. As if realising his presence had been noticed, the snake hummed from somewhere behind him.
“Is this what you do all day, prior to meeting with me?”
The air grew warmer, as if stone and brick had finally caught the sun’s warmth and carried it inside, stuffing between his armour and skin. Mizrak ignored him and lifted his head, staring at the small cross propped up on the altar. It was a brilliant shade of gold, painted over silver due to lack of funds. He appreciated it regardless - secretly, however, he always found silver prettier than shiny yellow.
“Only one god, yet you pray to angels and saints. Your kind was never able to fully explain that to me.”
He felt his brows knitting. His eyes lifted from the cross to the ceiling, where several angels were painted, peeking down at him from behind heavenly clouds. A new addition, and one that would probably be wiped away, for it did not really match the rest of the building.
His view was obstructed as Olrox floated into view. His arms were clasped behind his back as he peeked down at him, lips dimpling his face, his eyes a vibrant shade of green framed by silky smooth hair that fell past his shoulder. Mizrak huffed through his nose.
“Shouldn’t you go up in flames when entering a church?”
One eyebrow quirked up as Olrox looked behind himself at the cross, then back at Mizrak.
“Your god has no power over me.”
“My God will punish you in the end, regardless of your beliefs.”
“Guess I’ll just make sure to not die twice,” came the tight lipped answer.
“You are disrupting my prayers.”
“Oh, my apologies . I’ll move out of the way.”
Saying this, he floated back. Mizrak frowned at his quick change in demeanour, until the vampire’s intentions became clear. He floated up the small steps separating him from the altar, the back of his thighs hitting it as he sat down on the table, moving the cross aside and setting it to the left. He folded one leg over the other, resting both hands on his raised knee as he smiled lazily at him, like a satisfied cat after feasting on some poor sod's dinner.
Mizrak was straining all the muscles in his face not to gape at the imprudent display of absolute sacrilege.
“You can’t sit there.” he nearly hissed.
Olrox did that annoying thing where he half closed his eyes as if in a daze, brows knitting up as his lips curled up to the left.
"Weren't you praying to your god? Far from me to get between a warrior of faith and his religion. I'll just wait here." he nearly cooed, the bastard.
Wait somewhere else , was what Mizrak wanted to say. However, he had no intentions of playing the petulant child to the vampire's petty little games. So, Mizrak closed his eyes and kept praying, ignoring the beast pinning him to the floor with his gaze.
True to his word, Olrox did not bother him. However, every time he blinked open his eyes, they met dangerous green.
It was with great horror that he realised his body wasn't as repulsed as his brain while gazing upon the display. Sat on the altar, the cause of his current frustrations appeared almost divine. His skin looked warm under the candlelight, framed by the reds and greens pouring in from the stained glass, skin inviting his touch, looking like his lips would melt if they were taken between his own. His hair spilled over velvet covered shoulders like fine silk, curling out from the moisture in the air, resembling dark wine from where the light poured. Green eyes glinted with mischief, always appearing younger than they truly were. His elegant fingers tapped silently on the altar, counting each second with remarkable precision.
Mizrak's body was starting to get less than virtuous ideas.
After what seemed like eternity, he sighed.
"Amen."
As if on cue, Olrox uncrossed his legs. Faintly, Mizrak wondered what would have happened if someone had walked in, seeing the vampire on the altar as he kneeled before him, whispering prayers.
His mind blanked.
Wouldn't a vampire contort on itself after such a sacrilegious display? Yet there he sat, looking every bit alluring, the light of God outlining his body and making him look alive and warm.
Perhaps- no . He would not think such things. God wouldn't reward his efforts by sending him the Devil. God barely rewarded anyone in life, such things saved for when one passed the pearly gates. He was growing delusional.
"Distracted? Or still praying?" Olrox asked, tilting his head. He had floated closer, sitting on his ankles as he kept hovering a metre or so above the ground. He always made floating look pretty rather than an abomination to the laws of nature.
"Can I not do both?"
"Are you quite finished with your prayers, Mizrak?" He asked, sweetly, like honey melting under the afternoon sun. It drove him mad.
"Yes. Why?"
"Good."
Suddenly, Olrox was on him. He gripped his jaw between strong, clawed fingers and lifted him to his feet. Mizrak had half a mind to resist before cold lips were pressing against his, a content sigh leaving the vampire's mouth like a purr.
Mizrak pushed him away. Olrox should have been like stone to move, yet he willingly stepped back, as if there wasn’t a river separating them when it came to raw strength.
"Are you crazy? Not here ." he hissed.
" Hm ." Olrox simply answered, before kissing him again.
Mizrak pressed his hands to his chest, pushing weakly. The vampire chuckled at the attempt, both of them knowing Mizrak’s heart wasn't really into it, that he was mostly trying to save his pride by pretending he wasn’t just as excited under the belt. As Olrox chuckled, Mizrak took the opportunity to tilt his head away, cold lips landing on the corner of his mouth, pressing to his cheek, dragging sideways to his ear, leaving a phantom tingle across his skin.
"Then deny me, Mizrak."
"Fuck off."
He did not deny him. Olrox grabbed him by the front of his robe and flipped them around, before literally pushing him like he and his armour weighed nothing.
His back hit the altar, wood clanking against metal. The light falling from the candelabra was dim, barely touching the top of his head, the sun long gone and leaving the rest of the church in eerie darkness. Olrox stepped forward, slowly, sauntering as he went. His eyes almost seemed to glow, never leaving him.
Mizrak remembered being in the choir as a child, singing the heavenly hymns before the priest gave the sermon. The songs had been the prettiest things to his ears - constant, high, predictable. They contrasted with the heavy tone of the sermon, thankfully given in his mother tongue, then in French - not that it would matter if it wasn’t so, Mizrak could speak Latin just fine. The point was, they felt like a lullaby before peaceful sleep was denied, the word of the Lord taking stage over any and all melodies.
Mizrak was a good catholic man. Unfortunately, he always got distracted by pretty songs and even prettier pictures. He justified it by loving the representations of God on Earth, but given the way the stupid vampire had so quickly managed to coil himself tightly around his very being, he knew that excuse was running dry. He wondered if God would know that, and keep it in His mind before punishing him for the way he was about to forsake His house.
Olrox pressed his hips between his legs, clawed hands gripping his tights. His nails scratched against the metal of his high boots, the sound shrill. He smelled of incense, as if he had been hiding away in the church for ages, waiting for the right moment to step in from the shadows. He tilted his head, hair falling like silk over his shoulder, eyes pierced to his. Mizrak's eyes fell to the way his skin dimpled around his mouth, fingertips aching to run roads up and down every curve of his skin.
Olrox said nothing, smile unwavering. Mizrak swallowed the lump in his throat, catching the way Olrox lost his focus - just for a fraction of second - to follow the motion.
"This is an offence to the Lord." Mizrak finally said, voice hushed. He'd be damned if anyone heard him and came to see just what position he had let himself be placed on.
Olrox, thankfully, matched the tone.
"I don't see your god stepping down and stopping us-"
"He belongs to us all-"
"Think of it as an act of devotion, then."
Cold palms slid up his inner thighs, his breath hitching as they brushed the sides of the growing tent in his pants. Olrox made no mention of his evident desire, smiling as he dipped his touch below his hips, hands sliding up his armoured abdomen before coming to splay on his chest. The vampire rubbed up his shoulders, unclasping his cape and letting it fall to the ground. His chest-piece followed, leaving him only in his black under-shirt. Mizrak took a breath, trying to school his face. The blood flowing through his veins matched the beat of his traitorous heart, flowing warmly onto his cheeks and down to his shame, skin burning where the vampire trailed his touch up his chest, into his neck, sharp claws drawing ghost lines over his cheeks, thumbs hooking under his jaw.
"Offer yourself to him, through me. Better than doing it behind locked doors, I assume?"
"He knows anyway, regardless of doors and walls." was all he could dumbly answer, eyes locked onto the way light reflected on a perfectly sculpted cheekbone, a silver earring dangling beside it. Olrox hummed, his grin stretching.
"Good. If you do it in shitty inns, you can do it directly under the church's roof, yes?"
He was given no time to answer. A cold mouth was pressed to his, almost icy against the burning shiver spreading over his lips. He took a sharp breath, Olrox tightening his grip on his face as he changed the angle, languidly pressing his tongue against his. He gave a pleased sigh, which Mizrak found himself matching with a groan.
When his lungs finally betrayed him, he pressed his hands to the vampire's chest and pushed, blinking slowly. He licked his lips, the act doing nothing to quench the static buzzing under his skin and clouding his eyes.
The grip on his face let go, and through his daze he saw Olrox moving two steps behind. He breathed in, slowly, hands gripping the edge of the altar. Olrox smiled. He seemed quite affected as well, despite his controlled expression - his breeches certainly looked tighter than usual.
"If you truly don't want it, fine by me. The moon's rising and I'm feeling quite peckish, anyway. Might go for a meal. You wish to keep me company?"
Mizrak dumbly blinked. "Must you... Antagonise the innocent people of this city?" he tried to sound nonchalant as he went through the dance they had performed before, far too many times for the little days they had known one another.
Olrox's smile grew wider. His eyes cast down his form, lips twitching.
"Are you offering to feed my thirst instead?"
"In your dreams."
" Hmm ."
Olrox floated closer to him again.
"Although... It seems our little faithful church boy is in a bit of a trouble. It would be no kind of me to leave you like this, would it?"
Mizrak held in his breath as Olrox bent closer, hands clasped behind his back, devilish lips brushing up his neck and over his ear, fine hair tickling his skin.
"Ask for it." he whispered into the shell of his ear.
Mizrak turned his head away. Olrox chuckled, simply pressing further against him, one knee gently pushing between his legs, lips leaving slow kisses along his jaw, down his neck, pressing a touch to the crevice between collarbone and shoulder. Mizrak felt his fingers going numb by how far he was digging them into the tablecloth, his skin as hot as the candles burning above.
"Ask." Olrox repeated. Mizrak shook his head.
One open mouthed kiss was pressed into his neck, sending shivers up his body. Olrox pressed his tongue into it, licking up to his jaw before settling his mouth on the junction between neck and head. He wrapped his lips around the skin, the sharp point of his fangs barely making itself known. It made his heart beat wildly, certainly loud and clear for the vampire - and such thoughts evaporated as Olrox sucked down. Mizrak didn't control the shameful sound that came out of his throat, his nerves set ablaze as the vampire sucked a mark onto his skin. Delirious, he realised that part of him wished for the vampire to lose himself in his excitement and bite down, consuming him.
Lord forgive him for such thoughts.
Just as quickly as it started, it ended. Olrox pulled back, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, looking at him like a wild cat eyed its prey. Mizrak realised he was panting rather harshly. He swallowed wetly, and decided he didn't care much about his shameful appearance.
"Look at you..." the vampire said "Maybe I should convince that abbot to invite the town over for a nighttime prayer. That look of yours seems more worthy or worship than the countess’s- or, maybe, it could be a lesson on how to avoid temptation? Your kind loves that word, does it not, Mizrak?"
He barely processed a word Olrox said, since the man's knee was pressing neatly to his crotch and he was trying desperately not to rut against it. To his horror, he failed, hips moving just the slightest in search of friction. Oh god, what was he doing?
"Me, I hope."
"What?" he mouthed. Olrox smiled.
"Ask."
"Fuck you-"
Between the knee pressing down onto him, the words being spoken directly into his ear, and the heavy scent of incense, something in him snapped. Certainly this wasn't temptation? If it was, it would have fulfilled its purpose nights ago, on their first time. No... Was this- was this perhaps a reward? For his good behaviour? He had always followed everything to the line and dot- and now there was a vampire chuckling into his ear, fangs pressing into an open kiss on his neck, and he was going insane and falling into a pit of burning tar.
Perhaps he had been mistaken. Perhaps God was simply rewarding him for his good work. He knew of his desires, and knew he would not be corrupted by keeping such company. Perhaps the vampire was something he could indulge in, for the beast had sat on the altar, under God's roof, and freely delivered himself after a long arduous day.
Yes. That had to be it. He had spent hours kneeling and asking for answers, and for once, God had delivered them.
He breathed out, then in.
"Do it."
"What?"
"Do anything, Olrox . Please, do anything-"
A groan, or maybe a moan, ripped from his throat as a hand was pressed to his clothed dick. The sound was engulfed by a borderline obscene kiss, Orlox losing no time in deepening it and taking what little air he had left. He hummed into it, hands digging on the altar, the hand between his legs pressing up as fingers danced with the lace holding his pants closed. Olrox huffed, pulling away. He undid the knot quickly and opened the pants, Mizrak’s dick embarrassingly pressing out of them straight away, begging for attention. Olrox licked his lips and looked at him, before dropping down and-
Mizrak moaned. There was no other word to describe the shameful sound that left his lips. The mouth leaving wet trails up his member was cold, but the enthusiasm more than made up for it. One hand came to rub slowly between his balls, driving him to madness. He looked up. The ceiling of the church had angels painted on it, watching the indecent show, judging him from the shadows cast by warm candles. He could not care, not when Olrox took him down into his throat in one swift movement like it was nothing. He hit the back of his throat, then was pulled out almost all the way before Olrox pulled back in, humming as he went down. Mizrak couldn't keep still, his tights pushing against the vampire's head as his nails ripped at the tablecloth.
"Oh lord, forgive me-" he breathed out as the vampire borderline devoured him.
Olrox hummed again, the vibrations like heaven. He pulled back just enough to bring his mouth to a bottle that seemed to have materialised out of thin air, uncorking it with his teeth and spitting it out, before going back to work.
By this point, Mizrak would spill himself over the man's mouth in an embarrassing record time.
Lukewarm fingers trailed down his dick, past his balls, and to the underside of his body. His breath hitched as they parted his ass cheeks, circling around his entrance with utmost care.
" Olrox -"
Olrox pulled out, trailing kisses over his groin and to the underside of his navel.
"I'm afraid my hands aren't suitable for this." Olrox said.
The finger rubbed at his entrance, but never pressed in. Instead, a cold bottle was pressed against his knuckles, green eyes peering at him from between his thighs. He looked down. The bottle was transparent, with an amber lubricant inside, clasped between fingers that gave way to well trimmed, yet sharp looking nails.
"What exactly do you expect me to do about that?"
Olrox lifted an eyebrow, looking down and up again. Mizrak guessed he was lucky his face was already heavily tainted, otherwise he would appear to have suddenly exploded.
" Out of the question ."
"Mizrak." Olrox said, precise yet sweet "Prepare yourself with your own fingers, or I'll leave you like this on the altar and not return."
He guessed that would be more embarrassing. If he was sinning once, better just go all the way. If this truly was no punishment, then it would be ridiculous of him to deny his fate over something so idiotic anyway.
While looking into Olrox's eyes, he finally removed his hands from the altar, careful to remain seated and not fall back. His pants were pushed down to the middle of his tights, as far as his high boots would allow without removal. Not that it mattered, he was sure Olrox would get fed up and use his vampiric strength to rip them later on. His dick, unfortunately, was not opposed to the idea. He took the bottle and poured an obscene amount of lubricant onto his fingers, before dropping the vial back on the tablecloth. Olrox followed his every move like a hawk, lifting his body slightly so his head was resting on Mizrak's shoulder instead. The vampire moved one lukewarm hand up and down his torso, lifting his shirt just enough so he could touch, skin to skin, up and down again. Mizrak's skin ached whenever it left, only to be soothed once the palm rubbed back down again.
With a deep breath, he pressed one finger in.
It didn't hurt. He was reminded of all the times in his youth where, with a guilt ridden heart, he had caved in and tried this very act in the secrecy of his quarters. It never felt good - the shame was always too great. However, slowly opening himself in the middle of a church under the watchful eye of an aggravating vampire didn't feel terrible - it still carried shame, yes, but it somehow felt... exhilarating.
A second finger quickly followed, making him take a deep breath and close his eyes. He worked it in and out, trying to get used to the feeling. He didn't want it to feel too good though, lest he forget what exactly was happening.
When he came back to the world again, his dick jolted. Olrox had this glassy look to his eyes as he stared between his legs, lips parted. His own erection was pressed hard onto his still tightly clasped breeches, and his hand was carving thin lines onto his exposed torso, drawing small lines of blood.
Mizrak groaned, quickening his pace as he closed his eyes and threw his head back, the sound of his fingers slapping in and out loud to his ears. He heard Olrox take in a breath, something the vampire clearly didn't need to do, and counted that as a small victory.
"Are you just going to stare like a pervert, or are you going to undress yourself?" he said, or thought he said. For all he knew, his words could make no sense. They certainly didn't to his ears.
When he looked down again, Olrox had pushed his stupid breeches and tights down his legs, one hand coming to grip his shoulder. He harshly pushed him back, until his back hit the altar, the new angle making him nearly choke on his own spit as his fingers hit something that made him see stars.
" Fuck , fuck, oh god-" he panted, the noises coming from his self pleasure sloppy and wet.
"Another one." Olrox muttered, rubbing circles on his tights.
Mizrak tried to insult him, but he knew it was useless before it even left his mouth. Instead, he added another one, the stretch painful yet good.
Eventually, his wrist was gripped tightly. He looked up. Green eyes penetrated him with the intensity of their gaze, bottom lip caught between a sharp canine, the skin of his cheeks looking so lively Mizrak could swear he would find a pulse were he to lay his fingers against them. Instead, as predicted, the vampire used his own fingers to rip his pants down the middle, freeing his legs. Mizrak knew a short argument spawned from that, but neither of them were actually aware of which words transpired.
Soon, his hands were back to the edges of the altar, this time above his head as his thighs were gripped just where ripped cloth met metal boot, hooked under the vampire's arms. Olrox leaned over him, pressing his head to his collarbone, his cool body pressed flush to the underside of Mizrak's flushed one.
When Olrox entered him, it felt just right. He filled him perfectly and slowly, pushing into him like their bodies were made for it, like it was good and natural. Mizrak was pressed tightly against the altar, panting as the vampire trailed kisses up his chest, neck, jaw and all the way to his lips. He kissed him like a parched man stumbling upon an oasis, drinking him in as he fucked into him slowly, carefully, nothing like the desperation Mizrak had in his heart.
Yet, it was good. More than good. Perfect.
He let himself be split open under the angels, the cross, and the eyes of God. He didn't complain when the pace was picked and Olrox slapped their hips together in an obscene manner, the sounds echoing off the stone walls. The vampire moaned quietly under his breath and never took his eyes off him, like Mizrak was a precious thing meant to be savoured. It should feel sickening, yet all Mizrak could do was return the look, partaking in the mutual worship. At some point he found himself letting go of the altar, hands coming to wrap around Olrox's shoulders, fingers clasping his hair. He nearly came as soon as he felt cold fingers wrap around his front, stroking him slowly.
He was burning, and his heat seemed to be scorching the vampire between his arms who kept kissing him and then pulling away, biting at his own lips, eyes glazed. When they kissed, Olrox's tongue pressed hard against the roof of his mouth, and Olrox moaned when Mizrak pressed his own to his teeth, exploring. He pulled at the vampire's bottom lip when they parted, earning what almost sounded like a whine. He took in a breath, looking into the prettiest shade of vibrant green.
" Yes- " he breathed out "Yes- do it, do it- Bite me -" he chanted.
Olrox choked on a breath he didn't need, wide eyes nailing him to the altar as his pace grew erratic, the tip of his dick always hitting home and driving him crazy.
" Bite me -"
"You don't know what you ask for-"
Mizrak groaned, the sound ripping from his throat as he tilted his head and pulled the vampire down by his hair. He dug his teeth into Olrox's neck, clamping down hard. Olrox choked on a shriek, voiced dying down into a moan. He tilted his head, opening way for Mizrak to adjust the angle, biting down onto the muscle running down his neck. Olrox nearly hissed, sharp claws digging into his tights, burning as they pierced skin. His human teeth didn't draw blood - in fact, his teeth didn't even pierce the much thicker skin on the vampire's neck. But Olrox certainly didn't seem to mind that.
He was ripped from the vampire's neck, plump lips snarling at him as he was pressed firmly against the altar, the hand on his dick leaving to press him so flush no space was left between stone, tablecloth, his body and Olrox's.
Then, Olrox bit him, and Mizrak came the moment he felt fangs piercing his skin.
He floated in a state of blissful pain. The feeling of release was akin to that of the blood being sucked out of his body, and to his ears, the desperate, needy sounds coming from the vampire feasting on him sounded like music. Hips stuttered, before slowing. A tongue lapped at his neck, teeth abandoning him. Mizrak kept his gaze up, unable to do much more.
Eventually, Olrox pulled out after a few stuttering pushes, resting his head against his shoulder.
"You foolish man..." Olrox mumbled, voice gentle and breathless.
Mizrak tried to hum. He didn't know if the sound ever left his throat. As if in a dream, he could swear he felt soft fingers moving up and down his torso, soothing his sensitive skin. Light kisses were pressed to his collarbone, feeling so distant he could be imagining them.
He kept his eyes on the painted angels, until a pleasant shadow took him.
.
When he opened his eyes, he wasn't in a church. The room was dark, the only light spilling from a half open window. Cool air flowed inside, making pale curtains dance in the moonlight. Instinctively, his eyes moved down to a table, where a vase of sad looking flowers seemed to perpetually be laying on. He always wondered if they belonged to the inn, or if Olrox himself had set them up, their sorry bodies the only living things in the room whenever the vampire had to hole up for the day.
"You foolish man, Mizrak."
Olrox was sitting beside him, opposite side to the window. His hair was flowing into his exposed torso, his modesty covered only by baggy linen pants. Elegant fingers were pinching the sheets, rubbing them between forefinger and thumb. He looked at him from behind half closed eyes and thinly pressed lips, an expression Mizrak was starting to recognize as his sad, mopey immortal temper tantrum look. Mizrak groaned, sitting up, one hand coming to rub at his neck. It felt sore.
"You indulged me. Better yet, you started it."
"Had you pulled that stunt with a lesser vampire, you would have died."
"I'll stick to the blue blood of the night demons, then." he huffed "How did I get here?"
Olrox stared at him for a long time, face unreadable. Mizrak stared back. Thankfully, his words seemed to have broken the vampire of whatever thoughts he was locked in. He put on his typical smile, as if he had never been upset to begin with, and leaned into him. He let Olrox move until the man was laying down on his legs, his palms rested against Mizrak's stomach as he peered up at him.
"I carried you, of course."
"Across the city?"
The smile twitched, highlighting the dimples on his unfairly pretty face.
"Across the city."
A reward indeed.