Chapter Text
Roger Daltrey strode up the marble staircases, holding the faintly lit lantern by its worn handle. He glanced around timidly to see if anyone was behind him, knowing full well that the action was pointless: anyone on the estate could easily have passed unnoticed, thanks to any of his arcane powers. Anyone but him. The blond man's shoes touched the icy floor, treading it with all the care that only their wearer could. Here Roger's gaze fell on the huge doors of the library. A short creature like him had to work hard and hack off his shoulder, among other things, to open one of the doors and enter the dark hall.
In the lantern light, Roger could see the dust that flew right in front of his face, flying into strange pictures and floating away into something else entirely. The blond man's eyes roamed the bookcases of foreign carvings. He walked from one to another, not entirely sure that there was what he had come for. The titles of the books resting on the dusty spines were all unspeakably strange, ranging from 'what is poltergeist and how to fight it' to 'a thousand and one recipes for homemade marshmallows'. Roger shook his sunny curls in his favourite fashion as he read the titles, each time realising that he was getting further and further away from what he actually intended to find. Eventually, after a long hour of idle wandering and silent cursing, he found what he was looking for. 'Handbook: What Vampires Are,' it said on the cover. It was surely one of the shabbiest books he'd ever looked through, and it felt like it had been thrown down from the fourth floor more than once. Daltrey grinned at the thought, moving a carved chair close to a table and placing a lantern close to a reference book. As Roger turned the many pages of the book, a great cloud of dust rose up on him, framing the blond man's eyelashes and eyebrows in a kind of fluff. He shook his hair again, flipping through the guidebook. "What a Vampire Eats," the chapter read. Roger found this headline incredibly boring, so he preferred to turn the page. "How to feed a hungry vampire' - 'Oh, that's a good one ' Daltrey grinned to himself, but realising that the next few chapters would be all about such high cuisine that he wouldn't understand, he decided to find the right page at random. 'Vampire Abilities' - the blond thought it would be a good idea to read it, but left it for another time. He picked an uncharted page in the prehuge thickness of the book and opened it: 'Love Between Vampire and Human' - his heart jumped when the blond didn't even read the title. 'Vampires tend to be cold and aloof creatures who are hard enough to fall in love with, but...' something twitched in Roger's chest. This month he'd discovered, unexpectedly to himself, that he really liked Pete. Roger wanted to be under his power. He wanted Pete to pull his hair and suck his tears like blood. He was afraid of Pete, but the fear of his article was nothing compared to what he felt for him in the hidden corners of his hot heart.
Roger soon picked up the book in his arms, treading again on the cold stone of the library. On his way to the bedroom, he encountered a variety of twisting staircases, rickety passages, and a vast army of creaking floorboards. He was visibly tired until he finally reached the huge black door.
'Ah, where have you been so long? I was about to look for you' said the Earl of Townshend, stretching out at full pale length on the bed.
At these words Roger involuntarily squeezed his head into his shoulders, hiding his book behind his back.
'Nowhere.' he said.
'You remember, you're not allowed to walk around the house alone,' Pete frowned, as if to chastise, 'you're behaving very badly, Mr Daltrey.'
Roger didn't even think about listening to his vampire's typical moralising, but walked over to the lacquered drawers of his bedside table, pulling one of their doors open and putting in a thick book that ended up taking up the whole drawer.
'Can you hear me?' Pete called out, tapping his icy knuckles on the bedside table, 'Roger?'
'Yes.'
'So you didn't tell me where you were' the vampire said, rising up on an elbow.
'If you'd paid more attention to me, you'd probably have some idea of my whereabouts.' - Daltrey tried to speak as dryly as his lips would allow.
'Oh, you know I can't bear the daylight hours, and at night I am ready to accompany your dreams.'
'I still wish you'd spend a little more time with me,' the blond replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed and pulling off his shirt. Pete was still lying on the oversized and somewhat musty pillows, lips pressed together thoughtfully.
'I'll do my best, love.' - At those words, Pete left a neat but confident kiss on Roger's cheekbone.
The lanterns were out, the golden-haired young man asleep, and his earl, oddly enough for a vampire, asleep as well.
***
That evening Pete did his best indeed, and spent the rest of the evening of the lonely day with the beloved young man. They were within the walls of the dining-room, spinning pious talk in their mouths, and in their fingers glasses of wine and bloody scarlet liquor.
They talked peacefully, even too peacefully for them, Roger occasionally presenting an impressive glass of dark wine to his dry lips and glancing warily at the purple liquid in Peter's glass. The latter was saying something to Roger, in his noble manner, occasionally allowing himself to touch Daltrey's hand with his own. The blond man was preparing to make this one of the most beautiful evenings he had ever lived. The faint crackling of the fireplace and the many lanterns throughout the house gave the evening an achingly romantic tone. Spider John paced around the table, either pouring more wine for Roger or offering Pete new blood, whatever it might be. Daltrey's mind was absorbing every word he heard from the Earl, savouring this vast ocean of attention, every second of the evening spent within the walls of ice slabs and door locks.
This idyll might have continued for a long time, if only their poltergeist, Keith, had not found this romance nauseatingly beautiful, and had not decided to correct the situation with his own somewhat ungracious pas: the two glasses that were unnaturally peaceful on the oak tabletop began to move silently, and unnoticed by the couple, to the far edge of the table, like arrows in a crossbow. In another second the glasses went forward with incredible speed, moving like arrows flying from the bend of a bowstring.The scarlet bloody liquid, along with Peter's glass, collided with its owner, clinking against the buttons of his black jacket. Roger's glass, however, a brand-new one, tipped over, staining his recently acquired pearl blouse a natural shade of wine. Daltrey swung his head down lightly, looking at the spreading stain. With a light clatter, he set his glass down on the table, awkwardly resuming the conversation as if nothing significant had happened. Townshend folded his arms coldly across his chest, still listening to the young man, but his blue eyes were filled with furious rage at the poltergeist.
'Pete, it's late' Roger said innocently.
'Yeah, yeah, you go ahead, and I'll be right with you.' The blond man rose from his chair, touched Pete's shoulder lightly with his hand, and strode away. At the same moment, Townshend stood up, heading on his crane legs toward the poltergeist. He was standing at the carved mantelpiece, picking at the engraving with a folding knife.
'What the hell was that?' - The vampire towered menacingly over Keith. He raised his childishly glittering amber eyes to Townshend's, his mischievous mouth spreading into a smile across his round face. - 'You,' Pete shoved Keith in the chest, 'don't you dare touch Roger!' The poltergeist snorted: he hadn't seen the Earl this angry in a long time.
'You weren't this mad at me when I blew up the ladder to the attic.'
'I..' - The vampire began to threaten with a long, whitish finger. - he shrugged his shoulders, 'but it doesn't matter now. I really hope you heard me, Keith Moon. Don't you dare touch Roger, don't you dare even think about him, understand? Don't even swim in his presence or I'll smash your pretty little head against the living room wall!' - At these words he slapped the poltergeist's shaggy head, which brought tears to his eyes. Keith glared angrily at Pete, wanting revenge. his nostrils flared, and his fringes now lay in a shaggy brush.
Townshend gave him one last chastising glare before he turned on his heels and headed for the night staircase.
As the vampire stepped into the bedroom, his ice blue eyes took in the indescribable sight of Roger standing with his back to the door, at the far end of the room and therefore just out of sight, bare-chested, looking down at the soiled blouse in his hands. The door closed noiselessly, but Pete didn't care. His arms wrapped around the lovely waist and his chin rested on a broad, tanned shoulder. Roger's golden skin covered in goosebumps as he jumped up charmingly, feeling cold hands on him.
'Sorry if I scared you.' - Pete said somewhere at the base of her neck, kissing it. 'Were you upset about the shirt?'
'What? No, no, of course not,' Daltrey replied gently.
'Good. We could make it up to you anyway, you know...'- Townshend murmured, playing with the zip on the blond's trousers.
***
After Pete had gone upstairs, Spider John noticed the mysterious disappearance of Keith's poltergeist. His mind pictured mangled columns and blood-soaked portraits as his imposing legs, clad in spidery black trousers, strode across the dark floor. He had no idea where Keith might be, but as he passed the library his nostrils picked up an odour like that of someone drunkenly setting fire to, say, a carpet. John quickened his steps, pushed open the massive doors, and the butler saw the carpet on fire. Clenching his hands into fists at the mere thought of what he would see when he looked above, he moved past the hideousness of the speculation and looked. The air was knocked from his lungs with indignation as he saw books falling from the shelves one by one, pages tearing, spines bending and buckling. Spider John's strength wasn't enough to stop the mess, but he just didn't know yet that the living room was covered in wine. After an hour of unsuccessfully fighting the poltergeist, John began to wonder if some sort of vampire powers could have stopped it all. He really wasn't going to disturb his host, given the fact that the butler was in charge of the household, but he simply had no other choice.
***
As John fought with Keith and headed for the earl, Roger and Pete were already making love. Roger was sitting on Pete's lap, feeling their bellies and breasts pressed against each other. Daltrey was kissing. He kissed and loved every white isle among the purple bites on Pete's skin. Townshend squinted his eyes lightly in a smile as he felt the scalding breath of lips on his skin. He was letting Roger feel in charge, giving him that most rare pleasure. They sat like that, hands caressing his skin, completely naked, pressing against each other with every part of their loving bodies.
***
In the meantime Spider John was getting nearer and nearer to the door of the Earl's bedroom. Sure enough, as he walked, a hail of sawdust seemed to fall on him, but he stubbornly kept going, realising that there was nothing he could do about the restless poltergeist. Ominously out of the shadows a door appeared. He held out a strong hand to the dark wood, and his knuckles made contact with the door. There was no answer, only really suspicious sounds that had nothing to do with the butler.
***
There was an all-killing thud in the bedroom as long, marble-white fingers pressed into the blond man's swarthy thighs. Pete thrust into Roger hard and deep, causing his sapphire eyes to widen in amazement, and he felt a moan escape his mouth, but the sensation of Pete inside him knocked the air out of his lungs, making it impossible for him to breathe. From above, Pete squeezed his hips to the point of pain, moving even closer to Roger, causing his pelvic bones to collide, separated only by tiny strips of skin. Soon the voice returned to Daltrey, and his loud moan was almost immediately lost in the sweetness of Townshend's mouth.
There was another knock, more insistent, followed by the butler's low, velvety voice:
'Sire, I venture to inform you that the poltergeist...'his voice had been interrupted, however oddly, by Townshend's voice, now hoarse but not losing its coldness:
'Ah, John... John, oh, not now, John.'
Without waiting for the retreating footsteps, Pete slid briefly out of Roger to his disgruntled whimpering before plunging into him to untold depths. Roger was breathing hoarsely, shivering and his body glistened with sweat in the faint light of the lanterns dotted along the bed. He could feel the pleasure turning to pain, frowning occasionally at it, but still Daltrey savoured every second during which he could feel Townshend inside him. For a while longer, the latter allowed himself to play with the young man's damp curls before withdrawing from him completely and collapsing close to him. Roger still jerked lightly as he felt Pete's icy limbs braiding him from all sides.
'Did it feel good?' As if not knowing the answer, the vampire asked. The young man turned on him, peering into Peter's deep practically white eyes before lathering extremely vigorously on his lush curls, now glistening with moisture. Pete smiled softly, stealing another kiss from Roger.
'Roger, I love you.' he whispered, stroking his wet neck gently.
'I know, Pete, I know, I love you too.' The blond replied, knowing every word by heart, 'Ah, Pete, I want to be with you always, Pete. '
'Always?' the vampire interjected. A bad light flared in his tired eyes, 'Would you let me bite you?' he whispered into the blond's ear, catching the surprised and frightened look in his eyes.
'I'm sorry.' - Townshend rubbed his long nose against Daltrey's neck in forgiveness, 'You need to get some sleep, okay?'
Roger nodded, smiling lightly with the corners of his lips. He wanted to obey Pete in everything, so he drifted instantly into sleep, feeling Pete's cold fingers working through his curls.