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Vincent was exhausted.
An exhaustion that not only made his bones and muscles ache, but also pulled at his rotten little soul.
For days, his work and the absence of Alastor were wearing down on his nerves little by little so that by this morning a migraine had settled itself in his head, refusing to subside.
But he couldn't take a day off, today was an important meeting and besides, what would people think, when they saw their most hardworking and ambitious colleague (and leader) take a day off for a thing as little as a migraine.
He really should have taken the day off.
The dull thud of the migraine decided to evolve into a full blown earthquake in his head by lunch, splitting the right half of his head in two. He had to miss the meeting because of it, spending his time instead bunkered in his office with the blinds shut and the toilet seat open, ready for a new load of his lunch.
A very productive day, not in work and expanding his influence, but in wallowing in self-pity.
The only light at the end of this migraine shaped tunnel was the knowledge, that he would see Alastor again today.
By the end of his workday, the migraine had thankfully subsided back into a dull ache behind his green eye.
Now here he stood, in front of Alastors apartment door, waitin for Alastor to answer his quite desperate knocking. Something Al must have noticed, for he took his sweet time to respond. Al loved torturing him.
"Come in, Vincent", Al said, the pleasant timber of his voice muffled through the door. Already, the tension in his muscles started to uncoil at the sound and a heavy sigh released itself from his mouth.
Vincent pushed the door open.
Warm light greeted him from a small lamp on Alastor's table, its owner sitting on a stool writing something down on a piece of parchment with his back to the door.
Vincent's eyes immediately found his silhouette, illuminated by the light which made his skin seem golden wherever it touched.
The yearning that had been building since the last time he'd seen him rushed back all at once and Vincent dropped his leather bag by the shut door and rushed to Alastors side.
Alastor raised his head at the rapid footsteps but before he could turn around, Vincent had already dropped down to the floor on his knees with his face pressed into Alastor's right thigh, his right arm gripping Al's knee while the other was slung over the thigh in front of his face, his knees pointed toward the door and his face near Al's stomach.
A surprised breath pushed itself out of Alastor's lungs, his gaze on Vincent's scrunched up face with his hands hovering obove it with surprise.
Vincent just wanted to cry at finally having Alastor again after being denied of him for so long, especially after today. At the feeling of Alastor's hand brushing into his hair, the pitiful little sound trapped behind his teeth since he came through the door let itself loose and he buried his face further into the soft, warm flesh beneath him, breathing in Alastor's scent with shaky inhales.
An amused little breath of a laugh reached his ear before Al's words did.
"Oh, my. Eager, aren't we today? Hard day at work?"
Vincent wanted to sob at the voice, so soft despite the condecending undertone. A whimper was his only response. Then a moan when Alastor finally decided to card his fingers through his hair, while his other hand rubbed circles on the hand gripping his knee.
A chuckle this time. "Oh, darling, so needy today, hmm?"
Vincent only nuzzled his face further against the soft thigh beneath him in response.
Soft laughter, the kind that only appeared when Alastor seemed to be thrououghtly endeared by him.
"But tell me, dear, what is that smell? You smell out of your mouth like a cow smells out of it's arse."
Embarrassment made his cheeks a lovely red, something Alastor noted with delight. He just absolutely adored torturing his Vincent.
When Vincent answered, it was only a mumble. "Migraine, bad."
Alastor softened slightly at that, working his fingers more deliberately through the hair beneath him, scratching and pressing in hope of alleviating some pain.
"Maybe an early supper then, something light. We don't want to be too harsh on your stomach now."
But Vincent didn't want to stand up, he wasn't even that hungry! He grumbled in displeasure at the suggestion, gripping Alastor's thigh tighter now, so that he wouldn't have the chance to stand up and leave him.
Alastor watched from above, sighing in feigned exasperation at Vincent's antics.
"Well, I suppose supper can wait then." A sudden idea made him pause his ministrations in Vincent's hair, earning him another displeased grumble. "Oh, calm down, my goodness. Here, let me just." He trailed off at the end as he used his left hand to open a drawer at the desk.
Finding what he was searching for, he proudly held his prize in hand.
"Vincent, come now, raise your head for me, will you." Using his hands, Alastor encouraged Vincent to raise his head, not without complaint from Vincent. Why couldn't Al let him have this? Refusing to open his eyes, he raised his head, sighing in annoyance, which ernead him a little tap on his cheek. "Don't be rude now, Vincent."
His head almost fell back on Al's thigh when the other removed his hands from his head, but he held strong, only swaying a little from side to side.
Metal clinked when something was laid against his neck and he opened his eyes in surprise. Alastor sushed, encouraging him to relax again. He knew what was happening now.
Once done, Alastor pressed his head back to where it belonged, the weight of the collar against his throat lulling him into a pleasant haze. He could fall asleep like this.
The collar was a gift from Alastor made out of sturdy and thick leather that lay comfortably against the skin. At first it had been a joke because Al often called him a dog or his mutt, but then they used it in the bedroom once and, well. Both of them enjoyed it, Alastor because it soothed and encouraged his possessive side at the same time, and Vincent because it felt like he belonged to someone, to Alastor and if he belonged to Al, then that meant he wouldn't let Vincent go.
A heavy sigh left Vincent when Al began to caress his hair again, sometimes doing a detour to his temple and stroking there, all while picking up his pen in his left hand again and continuing whatever he was doing before. Vincent didn't really care, his only job was to succumb to the haze.
The air was suffucating even in the night, the heat that had been building the whole day not even stopped by the retreat of the sun. Thankfully, the moon took her place instead.
It's full volume was shining brightly, emitting a silvery light that revealed even the tiniest of details in this humid night.
Alastor enjoyed nights like these. The deceptive calm that made everyone victim to the siren call of the bayou before they inevitably got swallowed by it. If one was not careful, that is.
He grew up in these swamps, naming the alligators when he was a kid and catching frogs in places where the waters would drown a normal man. Once Vincent could have been that man, if Alastor hadn't found him, all alone in a new city that tried to overshadow his innate talent with mediocrity.
Not that Vincent had been a normal man, oh no, a man with a soul matching Alastor could never be called normal, it would be an insult to himself! But he certainly wouldn't be where he now was without Alastor.
The same man was standing beside him now, observing how their terrified victim of the night stumbled through the bayou searching for an escape. They let this insult to mankind believe it had gotten rid of them without letting him forget that safety would be nothing less than a miracle.
Alastor glanced at Vincent, still watching their victim from where they were hiding in the few shadows the moon light allowed. He looked good like this.
His limbs tight with tension, a hand gripping his knife to the point where his knuckles had turned white, his gaze full of a focused anticipation for the bloodshed that would commence soon and a silent madness etching a grin across his face. Yes, he looked good like this indeed.
The only thing that had Alastor furrow his brows a fraction were his clothes. Vincent always complained about the heat and humidity and never wasted an opportunity to shed some layes, especially when hunting, where the exertion made his body as hot as embers. A side effect Alastor sometimes used to leach off some warmth from Vincent.
Now, Vincent had shed his suit jacket but his shirt remained buttoned up to the neck, covering half of the length of his neck with cloth that, in this situation, usually had no buiseness there. The retreating form of the bumbling idiot in front of them forced him to look away and together they followed him, remaining silently in the shadows.
The quiet and panicked sobs of their victim had Alastor put a pause on their approach, stopping Vincent with a hand on his chest. Vincent's breath turned heavier in exitement, his stance adjusting into a pouncing position. Alastor took in the sight for another second before giving the signal. By greeting their unfortunate dinner.
"Hello, my good man!", the man turned around with a yelp, his blonde hair plasted to his forehead with anxious sweat and with tears in his eyes, a prey well aware of their perilous situation. Seeing Alastor, the man turned away, running as fast as his exhausted legs could carry him. Alastor smirked. How rude everyone had become in these last years, even his Vincent hadn't been spared...speaking of.
"Vincent, Fetch."
Vincent did, leaping from the shadows like he had always been a part of them and ran at an impressive speed after the man. Alastor allowed himself a more leisurely jog, following at a distance.
He saw Vincent take a turn behind some trees, escaping from Alastor's sight, but the terrified yell of their victim told him all he needed to know. A struggle ensued, both men struggling for the upper hand. Only hearing the fight as Alastor slowly came closer to the turn, he didn't know what was going on but he wasn't concerned, after all, his Vincent never struggled too much with his prey. His violence overwhelming even the best of fighters...usually.
Alastor turned the corner and his felt his heart stop for a beat.
The man, this scum, had somehow gotten ahold of Vincent's knife in the fight and was now waving it in clean archs through the air with Vincent being forced back with every step, a ditch behind Vincent giving him not enough room to keep a safe distance from the wild swing of the very sharp blade. The moon light illuminated everything and glinted in the knive's edge.
It happened in but a moment, Vincent reaching the ditch and stumbling, the man taking the chance with an ugly scream as he swung his blade and...slit Vincent's throat. It happened so fast, Alastor didn't even have time to react.
Time seemed to slow and everything became muffled as he watched Vincent, his Vincent, fall into the ditch, his form swallowed by the darkness within until he seemed to dissapear into another dimension. The man was starting to back away before running off again, slowly as his body began to give up. Alastor didn't spare him a glance, still standing there and staring at the ditch where Vincent dissapeared into, his body as still as a corpse. As Vincent's corpse probably was.
That thought ripped him out of the shocked trance he was in.
Vincent was not dead, he couldn't be. He hadn't even seen him loose that spark in his eyes that he adored so much, so how could he be dead? He wasn't. Which meant that right now, he needed to kill that fucking useless waste of a human soul right now! For daring to touch, to hurt his Vincent, to kill him.
It was easy, his anger fueling him to where it only took him seconds to reach their victim and break his neck in one smooth motion. He would have loved to see him suffer for what he did, but he couldn't, he had to help Vincent out of that surely very uncomfortable hole he fell into. He did always complain about his old bones after all, even though Alastor was five years older than him.
The way back to Vincent was all a blur of anger, fear and grief, a combination Alastor was trying to convince himself was just annoyance. But standing at there, he could no longer pretend.
A strangled sob escaped him when he saw the body lying there, the edges of it blurred from darkness and the beginnings of tears. He hadn't cried since his mother had died, over twenty years ago, but now the floodgates opened again at the sight of his motionless love.
He wanted to go to him, help him but at the same time he didn't because what if Vincent was dead? What would he do without Vincent, when they promised they would die together and if not by old age then by each others hands. Vincent would be in hell all alone without Alastor to guide him in the right direction. Vincent needed him.
Alastor went down the slope into the ditch, his feet dragging him forward at the prospect of being alone again. And down here, where details were clearer, Alastor could finally see Vincent's face. He looked peaceful, as if asleep, and not lying there with a mouth and eyes opened in shock and fear. Relief washed over him at the sight.
With shaking finger, he checked for a pulse at Vincent's neck but...something was preventing his fingers from connecting with his throat. His eyes widened and unceremoniously ripped the unusually buttoned up shirt open to check.
And there, wrapped around that strong neck, was the collar.
Alastor made a wounded sound of relief as he saw a deep gash in the leather where the blade had carved its way through.
"Vincent."
His voice sounded wrecked, nothing like his usual voice that was exuberant and had a teasing undertone that felt like honey moving through your ears. He couldn't care less.
Taking Vincent's face in his hands, gently, like he was handling the finest of china, Alastor tapped his cheek. Light at first, little pats that felt like a sweet caress before it evolved into something that would hurt when the gentle pats brought no result.
"Vincent, darling, wake up."
The resulting grumble from his ministration was the sweetest music he had ever heard.
Alastor couldn't help himself and hugged Vincent as if he was a little boy again, hugging his maman for the last time before she went. He quietly sobbed into Vincent's chest while trying not to but then he felt Vincent's arms hugging him back, a confused call of his name reminding him that Vincent was okay. Vincent must have heard the sobs, but didn't comment, just held him quietly through it while Alastor breathed him in and basked in his warmth. Smart man.
Gathering himself, he pulled back and looked into that mismatched gaze, secretly soaking in the sight.
"Uhm, Al, don't worry, I'm okay.", Vincent was trying to comfort him, not used to seeing Alastor like that. It was a little clumsy, but honest in its intention. It helped, not that Alastor would ever admit that.
"Yes, what an astute observation, how smart you are, Vincent." His attemp at a nonchalant tone unconvincing thanks to the little tremor still in his voice. Vincent smiled, knowing Al and his little problem with handling emotions. Not that he was any better.
"You're right, how silly of me.", he would let it go for now, maybe talk with Al later if he didn't avoid the topic completely. All the while, Alastor had not even once looked away.
They sat like that for a few more moments gathering themselves before Alastor stood up and began the climb out of the ditch. He never let go of Vincent.
Once out, the silver light caught on the metal hook of the collar, the glinting drawing Alastor's attention to it once again. It was the reason his Vincent was still alive. With a reverence not usually bestowed upon such inanimate objects, Alastor skimmed his trembling fingers along the gash there. He then put his fingers underneath the collar, just to check, details like a cut beneath leather had a habit of getting lost in this darkness.
The moon continued to shine.
Vincent hesitated, before moving to the clasp of the collar. "Here, so you can see better."
Alastors hands clamped around his forearms with a strength that would have a lesser man cry out in pain. Vincent was not a lesser man.
"Don't you dare take it off.", Vincent has never heard Alastor sound like that. He held up his hands placatingly, letting Al play with the collar and his throat for a while longer, letting him have control.
After several minutes of Alastor making sure he was fine for the fiftieth time, he went toward the direction of where the corpse still lied, still keeping some form of contact with Vincent whenever possible while burying a body.
Vincent noticed how, throughought the process, Alastor remained stiff as a board, motions almost mechanical in their precision. No words were exchanged between them but there was no denying how often their gazes met, seeking reassurance from the knowledge that death had not parted them.
They didn't take any meat home.
The moment they stepped foot into Alastor's apartment, he went to the bathroom, all while keeping an eye on Vincent. The sound of the water filled the apartment and Vincent was already starting to remove his clothes.
They were both dirty from sweat and the dirt that they had shoveled for two hours. His body was aching and unceremoniously dropped his clothes on the ground on his way to join Alastor in the bathroom. Al wouldn't appreciate his carelessness but right now, he had other things to worry about, as did Al, he suspected.
Alastor was quiet the whole way back home, the tension from before not waning even when Vincent allowed himself to hold his hand where no one could see them. It seemed to help a little but there was still this anxious energy about him, not that he would ever admit that. It made Vincent skittish, not knowing what he could expect from his partner.
Standing beside Alastor before the big bathtub Alastor had bought for these occasions, he removed the rest of his clothes. Al was already naked and Vincent made to remove the collar, but once again, Alastor stopped him, the tension in his shoulders beginning to tighten again.
"I said not to remove it, didn't I?", his voice was harsh and Vincent swallowed. Alastor never talked to him like that, not since they had first met. Vincent knew he was probably just afraid that something would happen if he removed the collar, as it had saved his life, and the humiliation from that fact still stung, because how could he have let that loser get to him like that? And while he too was still a little shook, Alastor seemed to be the one struggling the most with his almost-death.
"Sorry, Al.", he mumbled, unsure what to do with Alastor like this. Did Al even know why he was acting like this? Maybe that's why he was angry. He always hated these kind of emotions, even though Vincent wasn't even sure what kind of emotions they were.
Alastor's gaze softened a little at his apology, and opened his mouth to say something before he stopped and closed it again, not sure what to say. Instead he stroked Vincent's cheek and Vincent took the chance to nuzzle against it and cover Al's hand with his own, much bigger hand.
The tension in his shoulders loosened slightly again at the contact and he watched Vincent nuzzle into his palm with a genuine smile.
"Good boy.", he said softly, before removing his hand to test the temperature of the water. Vincent hummed, pleased with the praise and the sight of Alastor's bent over, naked form.
The water seemed to be to Alastor's satisfaction and he stepped into it and sat down. He motioned for Vincent to do the same and they both arranged themselves until both were comfortable. Vincent lied between Alastors legs with his back to his chest, covering the hands on his stomach and chest with his own. They sighed in contentment and Vincent could feel Alastor sink further into the water, more tension leaving him.
At one point, Alastor started to splash some water onto Vincent's chest and abdomen and half-heartedly began to rub the sweat off of him. The soft motions were soothing Vincent's own aches and worries and he began to relax. He only noticed the hand creeping up to his neck once it was only a few inches away from reaching its target.
Vincent waited, wanting to see what Al would do.
After a few minutes of the hand just lying there, it moved again, up his collarbones to the hollow of his throat until it reached the collar. The fingers caressed the leather there before they went to caress the skin beneath it again.
Alastor hummed, pleased. "Good boy."
This was the second time this evening in the span of maybe fifteen minutes that Alastor had said that. And Vincent knew what it meant.
'Thank God you decided to wear that collar.'
Alastor would never say it like that, so he did it in the way he could. It was a language they both understood after years together.
The hand stopped its gentle caress and instead went to wrap gently around his throat, holding him. Vincent let out a breath at that and tipped his head back further, his nose touching Alastor's jaw, to give him better access.
From the hitch in Alastor's breath, it was save to assume that he quite liked that display of total trust.
"You need me, don't you Vincent?", his smooth voice murmured into his left ear. Vincent nodded.
Alastor let a pleased sigh loose, letting it tickle the shell of his ear. Vincent giggled a little at that and Alastor rewarded him with a kiss to his ear before his lips seemed to decide they wanted to caress elsewhere.
Those lips brushed over his skin, a featherlight touch where they searched for a new target until they placed a kiss on his temple, then his forehead and even the tip of his nose. The thumb on the side of his throat started to move back and forth, not letting Vincent forget was in control.
Vincent meanwhile took the other hand still washing his stomach into his own and brought it to his mouth. Vincent opened his eyes to stare at Alastor adoringly before kissing the pulse point there. Alastor gasped a little as Vincent continued to kiss there before he removed his hand from Vincent’s eager mouth to make way for his own lips.
It was a slow kiss, a warm press of lips while their tongues explored old territory, staking their claim. Parting only for a breath before diving back in.
In one of these pauses, Alastor leaned back slightly, panting a little and tightened his grip on Vincent's throat.
"You wouldn't leave me, Vincent, would you? You belong to me, after all. And I know you would never take my things away from me.", his grip tightened a fraction more.
Vincent shuddered at the possessiveness. He shook his head.
"No, never. I'll always be yours."
Alastor hummed, thoughoughtly pleased and loosed his grip slightly.
"Good."
Despite the way Vincent believed their evening would end, he was pleasantly surprised to discover that he had been mistaken.
They were both on the bed, bedsheets rumpled with both of them in their pajamas and bodies free from sweat and grime.
Vincent found himself leaned on a small mountain of pillows against the headboard with Alastor lying on his back with his head cushioned on his stomach. He was half-asleep already, thanks to Vincent’s gentle motions.
Vincent's right hand was busy on Alastors chest, stroking his collarbone with his tumb while his left hand was on his head, stroking his forehead there. Sometimes he did a little detour to follow the bridge of his nose or to bury his hand into his hair to scratch at the scalp and sometimes he followe the shape of his ear with his fingers.
Alastor loved it, always leaning into his fingers to hold onto the touch for a little longer.
Alastor's own hands lied comfortably on his stomach. He was close to falling asleep, Vincent knew. He could always read the signs.
Vincent smiled down at Alastor, brushing his thumb over his brow and smoothing the short hair down. Vincent was glad he had such big and warm hands in moments like these. Alastor once told him, drunk and relaxed, that it felt like Vincent created a whole world where he was safe for him just by holding him like this. Alastor forgot he said that by the next morning, but Vincent kept that confession close to his heart.
He sighed and started to carefully settle more into a comfortable sleeping position. Alastor seemed to wake up a little from the commotion but before Vincent could apologize, Alastor had already opened his mouth.
"Keep it on.", he slurred in a tired voice and closed his eyes again.
Vincent knew what he was talking about, of course. He kissed Alastor on his forehead and murmured his promise into the soft skin there.
"Always."