[ Prompt # 039. "Taste" Robin/The Count - kind of... ]
"Vladimir," the Count gestured widely from his throne, "isn't here."
Robin stood still for a long moment, waiting for the elaboration which never came. Finally he prompted, "Do you know where he is?"
"Do I know where he is?" The Count asked incredulously, "I am the Prince of Darkness, the most evil vampire to cast my foul shadow upon this Earth, the –"
"Yeah," Robin cut in, "but do you know where he is."
The Count pulled a face. "Outside, somewhere. He said he wouldn't be long."
Robin grinned and slid into an empty seat, reaching for a newspaper. He could wait.
"Aw, awesome," Robin murmured at the sight of the centre spread: 'What Makes a Breather Irresistible?' He was just reading Countess Basarab's comments on core body temperature when it happened. Fidgeting with the edge of the page, sharp pain shot through him, the paper slicing skin.
He made to lift the cut to his mouth but jumped in shock as cool fingers caught hold of his wrist in a vice like grip.
"Ah-ah," the Count smirked at him, "waste not, want not."
The Count arched one dark eyebrow, a predatory smile curling across his face, and brought the hand up to his own mouth. Robin watched, wide-eyed and breathless, as the Count swiped at the blood with his tongue before sucking at his finger in a way that he imagined would be featuring heavily in his dreams – both asleep and waking – for many years to come.
After a long moment the Count released him, flashing him a lecherous smile, before turning on his heel, cape billowing, and leaving the room. Robin stared at the empty doorway until his heart rate managed to slow to something less life-threatening.
"Robin, are you even listening?" Vlad waved a hand in front of his face, "Cinema or bowling; bowling or cinema?"
"I really," Robin shrugged, the faraway look on his face he'd had all afternoon still firmly in place, "don't mind."
"No, let me guess," Vlad said sarcastically, "you'd sooner stay here and sit outside Ingrid's room all night. Just in case she gets peckish and can't be bothered to walk all the way to the kitchen."
"Nah," Robin lounged back against Vlad's pillows, smiling dopily, "I thought we could stay in and sit outside the crypt. Your dad said he was staying home tonight."
Vlad took in the all too familiar dreamy look in Robin's eyes and the lovesick taint to his voice, and pulled a face. Robin, there were no two ways about it, needed serious help.