by Kabu no Sokuseki-zuke (蕪之即席助)
“Fritz, we have called you here, to Night’s Sanctum-“
“You mean the living room.”
Andros continued as if he hadn’t been rudely interrupted. “-Night’s Sanctum to address your inability to garb yourself appropriately for a newborn creature of darkness.”
It took a moment for Fritz to figure out what was just said. “What’s wrong with the way I dress?”
Rueben tossed his magnificent mane of ringlets and sneered. “Baby blue cashmere? Ass-hugging girl jeans? Sneakers with skulls?” He looked down his nose at Fritz. “Okay, I will give you the skulls. They’re almost appropriate.”
“Oh, my god, I can’t believe you two are trying to give me fashion advice!” Fritz paced the four-hundred-year-old, hand woven carpet. “Andros, you’re wearing a dress! It isn’t even a very nice dress, it’s floor-length black velvet with some sort of moldy leather belt thing that goes up to your chest. Reuben’s wearing some sort of S&M leather and metal mish-mash that looks both sluttish and ill-fitting! And you’re both wearing capes!” He finished with one fist on his hip and pointed a finger at his coven-mates. “You two don’t get to give me fashion advice.”
“We,” Andros began in a wounded tone, “dress the way vampires are supposed to dress. You could at least make an effort to fit in.”
“Fit the stereotype, you mean?” Fritz crossed his arms and tapped his foot. “Don’t you watch after-school specials? Conforming to peer pressure is bad.”
“At least wear black!”
“I’m too pale to wear black! It makes me look washed out and dead.”
Andros and Rueben exchanged a look.
“Fritzy, a large part of being a vampire has to do with the sort of mood you invoke when you prowl. Prowling in jeans and sneakers falls short of what a victim expects of the experience.”
“Ha! You two don’t prowl for blood, you trick or treat for it!”
Rueben pointed a leather-clad finger at Fritz. The chains connected to his wrist and elbow swung wildly. “Did you just imply we look like we are wearing costumes?”
“No. Yes. Have you looked in a mirror lately?”
There was silence.
“Right. Nevermind. Trust me, you look ridiculous.”
“I have had more than enough of your attitude, fledgling! We are your elders!”
“My senior citizens is more like it! When was the last time you two were cool?”
“Peace children,” Andros said. “I think Rueben and I ought to be more flexible; I’m ashamed to admit that perhaps Fritzy has a point.” Andros inclined his head respectfully towards Fritz. “The Master saw fit to make a young, modern vampire to join our clan and perhaps he reasoned Fritzy would help us… step out into the modern world.”
“I will bet he was drunk again.”
“There might have been some vodka involved,” Fritz admitted.
“Come, Rueben! Let’s go update our looks for young Fritz! And Fritz, I must insist you meet us halfway.” Andros stood up and swished his skirts. “And wear the special house-cleaning outfit we picked for you to do your chores in.”
“Hm,” Rueben twirled a fat ringlet of hair around a finger. “So when shall we three meet again?”
“God! Like, tomorrow evening? Why is everything about theatrics with you two?”
“Bite me, fledgling!”
“Not without all my shots first!”
“Shut up both of you!” Andros kicked Rueben in the leg with his pointed boot. “Rueben. March.”
“Fritz started it!”
“Fritzy, go to your room.”
“Aw, man!” Fritz stormed out of the Night’s Sanctum in a huff. “Who knew being immortal would be just like living at home again?”
Clouds of dust and debris billowed out of a high, narrow window set in the stone wall of the castle. Sharp cursing followed them out. “You guys are fucking slobs! Lazy, self-absorbed fucking slobs!”
Inside the castle the beautiful gothic architecture was being subjected to the indignity of a good scrub with lemon-smelling soap and water. Fritz wore bright yellow rubber gloves designed to protect his manicure, and in place of his usual tight girl-jeans and cashmere sweater, he wore a pink and white maid’s uniform loaded down with lace and ribbons. “Ugh! Is this a dead rat? Ewww! It looks like it’s been here for years!” He dropped the small, desiccated corpse into the garbage bag he’d been dragging around with him and started rooting around in the drawers of an enormous bureau that dominated the corner of the room. “Oh, my god, is this a DEAD PERSON? I’m going to puke! Rueben! Andros! Which one of you left this here?”
“Eh?” Rueben looked up from the homoerotic coffee table book he had open on his lap where he’d been sitting and ‘reading’ for the last few hours. His usual, outlandish, S&M gear had been replaced by leather motorcycle pants, leather boots, and an open leather jacket with no shirt beneath. “What’s it wearing?”
“What does it matter?” Annoyed, Fritz hauled the rest of the mummified corpse out of the bureau and tried to piece together its tattered rags. “Looks like it was wearing purple velvet? Ew, with red hose!”
Andros and Rueben exchanged a look and said together, “Sylvian Darkthorne.”
“Who was he, supper one evening?” Fritz pulled out a fresh, green plastic garbage bag and started stuffing Sylvian’s bits into it. Rueben shrugged at Andros, deferring the explanation to him. Andros put down his needlepoint and picked up a glass of wine.
“Sylvian was one of The Master’s acquisitions, hm, maybe a hundred years ago? Bit of a fop, really.”
It was an effort for Fritz to stop from commenting on the floor-length, silk, ball gown for which Andros had traded in his trademark velvet. Fritz thought it was a copy of the dress J.Lo wore to the Oscars that one year, only in gold instead of green; he wondered if Andros used double-sided tape to keep it in place like J.Lo was rumored to have done.
“The Master,” Andros continued, “has very few rules or requests that he makes of us. You’d think Sylvian would have been more accommodating.”
“What happened to him?” Fritz asked. “Did Peter, I mean The Master, kill him and put him in the bureau? It seems like a strange place to put a body.”
Rueben closed his book with a thud. “No. We killed him.” Fritz stared at Rueben in horror and Rueben shrugged. “He wouldn’t wear the fur-suit.”
“Fur-suit? As in a kinky fur-suit? The Master is into that stuff?”
“Well,” Andros smoothed his skirt and primly pursed his painted lips. “That’s not really the point, is it? Sylvian didn’t want to cooperate with The Master’s little games; something had to be done.” The chill threat behind Andros’s words raised goosebumps on Fritz’s neck. “Oh, but you’re doing fine so far, Fritzy. No need to worry. We find your ideas on fashion refreshing and not at all insulting.”
Fritz looked down at the pink and white maid’s uniform he was wearing. He’d been tempted to toss it in their faces when they gave it to him, especially after seeing the half-hearted attempt at updating their looks they had done, but on a whim had decided it could be fun to play dress up. “Oh, um, that’s really good to hear.”
“Oh yes.” Rueben sniffed a bit then twisted one of his ringlets around a finger. “There have been quite a few new additions to the clan over the years; but not very many hold up to our standards.” He fixed Fritz with a cold stare and smiled cruelly. “Oh, but you’re doing fine… so far… Fritzy.”
Usually Fritz wouldn’t be intimidated, but the thought of vampires killing other vampires had never really entered his head before now. They were all supposed to be equals, weren’t they? Peter certainly hadn’t said anything about him having to kowtow to two bossy, old vampires when he promised him immortality. “If you two can take my fashion advice I’m sure I can play dress up once in a while.”
Rueben’s eyes narrowed and his smile twisted into a smirk. He knocked his book off the table onto the floor. “You missed a spot, fledgling.”
Fritz’s left eye twitched. “So you’re right there. Pick it up.”
“I’m not your slave, Mr. I-like-to-dress-up-like-a-motorcycle-fet
“Shut up, Rueben.” Andros sipped his wine calmly. “Fritzy. Pick up Rueben’s book for him like a good maid.”
“The bureau is now empty…”
“Right! I’m picking up the stupid book for the stupid fetish whore who’s totally fixated on leather and being a jerk.” Fritz marched over to Rueben and glowered at him. “You need to move your leg.”
“Move it for me, maid.”
Fritz kicked Rueben’s leg but his pink slippered foot was hardly a persuasive weapon. Rueben snorted with disgust. “Try harder, girly boy.”
Fritz launched himself at Rueben in an assault of fluffy lace and satin. They toppled the settee over and tumbled onto the carpet; bodies twisting to get at each other’s vital weaknesses. Black leather and yellow latex fists traded blows. White teeth flashed and turned pink as stolen blood was spilled.
Andros moved close enough to get a good look at the fight but far enough away not to be drawn into it. A spray of blood splattered across the floor, stopping just short of his opulent skirts. He snatched a pink slipper out of the air as it sailed past him and buried his nose in it, inhaling deeply.
“Oh boys, stop.” He kept his voice down, so as not to disturb the suddenly erotic scene. “You’re getting blood on your lovely jacket, Rueben.” Rueben’s jacket hit Andros in the face followed quickly by the sound of satin ripping and a shriek of outrage.
Andros pulled the jacket away just in time to see Fritz’s lacy panties shredded by Rueben’s teeth.
“God’s blood! Is this your natural penis?” Reuben drew back and stared at Fritz’s enormous cock. “This can’t be yours! It’s too big for a girly boy like you!”
Andros peered over Rueben’s shoulder and smirked. “The Master may have been drunk when he made Fritzy but he certainly wasn’t stupid. A piece of equipment that fine should be preserved for an eternity.”
Fritz squirmed and but was held in place by Rueben’s tight grip on his thighs. “Aw man, do you both have to stare at me like that? I feel like a piece of meat!”
“What a delicious analogy, Fritzy.” Andros tossed his drink over his shoulder and ignored Fritz’s cry of, ‘I just cleaned the carpet!’ “And look at how aroused you’re becoming just from our gazes…”
“It must be an allergic reaction to all the dust in the air! It’s just swelling, not stiff! Who’d want to screw old queens like you two?”
“Who said anything,” Rueben yanked Fritz into his lap, “about you screwing anybody, fledgling?” He nuzzled behind Fritz’s ear and nibbled his way down his neck. Fritz shivered, aroused by his sudden vulnerability, and said nothing in reply. He heard the soft shush of fine fabric being shed and Andros stepped in front of them, dressed in complicated-ooking undergarments of the sort Fritz only saw in Victoria’s Secret… or Frederick’s of Hollywood catalogues. Andros’ black satin panties could barely contain the bulge of his erection.
Rueben struggled to get a good grip on the wet latex gloves that covered Fritz’s wrists, making Fritz whimper when he squeezed hard enough to get a firm hold. “Not so hard, you jerk!”
“Be gentle, Rueben. You know Fritzy only likes it rough when he feels the need to be punished.” Andros pulled the maid’s hairpiece off Fritz’s head and ran his fingers through his soft hair. “And we want our little Fritzy to be rewarded for all his hard work cleaning up, don’t we?” The effect the low purr in Andros’ voice had on Fritz’s cock made it throb almost painfully. “I have a reward for you right here, Fritzy…”
Andros released a hidden catch in his panties and a triangle of satin fell away, freeing his erection. Fritz reached out and took it in his free hand before he thought about what he was doing, pulling a low moan from Andros.
Rueben moved with Fritz as Fritz leaned forward to take Andros’ cock in his mouth, and adjusted his position so he was kneeling with Fritz in his lap. He growled into Fritz’s back, his curls spilling over the torn lace and satin of the maid costume, as he struggled with the zipper on his leather pants.
Fritz mouthed the head of Andros’ cock, savoring the unique flavor and velvety texture with his tongue. Andros was uncut, something he’d only encountered in The Master before. With the tip of his tongue he licked along the underside then nibbled on the bit of flesh that stood out where the head and the shaft met. A drop of cum fell lightly on his cheek. “I thought old guys had more control, Andros.”
“I am not so much old as eager to paint your pretty face white,” Andros growled.
Suddenly Rueben shifted position behind Fritz and shoved his cock into Fritz up to the balls.
“RUDE MUCH?” Fritz yelled at the man behind him, “Give a guy some, ah, warning first, asswipe!”
Rueben grabbed a handful of Fritz’s hair and jerked his head back roughly to expose his throat to and face to Andros. “Do you not like surprises, fledgling?” He rolled his hips and started to jerk them back and forth in short, hard motions. “I do.” A small scream escaped Fritz as Rueben dug his nails into his balls, hidden beneath a tattered skirt of tulle. The scream, short as it was, caused Andros to stiffen, throb, and climax onto Fritz’s exposed face and neck.
With a satisfied smirk, Rueben moved his hand and stroked Fritz’s shaft while he kept up with the short, hard hip jerks. Andros gripped Fritz’s face in his hands to steady his head and kissed him, open-mouthed and passionate. Their teeth clashed as they bit and sucked at each other’s mouth until both their lips were painted red with blood.
Animalistic howls from Rueben followed by a keening cry of release from Fritz shortly after were greeted with applause. Used, and exhausted after an evening of house cleaning and sex, Fritz numbly looked for the source of the noise.
The Master, Peter, stood in the doorway; his mussed dark hair and rumpled clothing an indication he had just woken up. “What a spectacular performance, my brides! Truly I am the luckiest man under the stars!” At his feet lay a pile of fuzzy green material.
Andros refastened his panties, tucking and hiding his spent member, and stepped lightly across the floor to his master’s side, “Oh, Master! You’re finally awake!” Andros reached down and examined the green material, “Is this a new costume? I don’t recall seeing it before.”
“Hell yeah, I bought it just before I made Fritzy.” He looked at Fritz and Rueben, still kneeling on the floor together, and shook his head, “Glad you boys like your new wife!”
“He is okay, but very tempermental and stubborn.” Rueben pulled himself to his feet using the overturned settee. “And he wears the stupidest clothing, Master.”
“Oh?” Peter stepped into the costume Andros held for him and pulled it up so it could be zipped shut. Peter reached into the hallway for the head and plopped it on his head. He stood, quite comfortably, dressed as a six-foot-tall, green, bear with a four-leaf clover symbol on its white tummy. “I thought he dressed quite snappy!”
From his seat on the floor Fritz groaned and covered his face with his hands. “Oh. My. God. I’m going to have to fuck a Care Bear, aren’t I?”