A/N: Here comes the final part of this small story. Special thanks to spiel for your comments!
Alfred had envisioned his first kiss many times, and although it would have embarrassed him to admit that, he had a very elaborate image in his mind of how it would go.
First, it would be with someone just as inexperienced as he was. Sarah would have been the perfect person, and he was still hoping maybe he would some day at least be able to tell her that. No matter what happened, Alfred just wanted her to know he did it all for her.
Secondly, it would be with a girl.
It would happen in some dim romantic corner where there were just the two of them, and they would talk of many things before the actual kiss would come to pass. It would probably be under the moon, or maybe a beautiful sunset, and there would be flowers too, with their scent surrounding them in the soft breeze of summer evening. She would be smiling, her eyes glimmering with the hopes and dreams of future, and he would feel his heart getting bigger as he thought of those dreams too.
In any case, it would be very sweet, and they would exchange many words of promises and devotion. Then after a while, they would both fall silent to just look at each other, and although it would be just a bit awkward and they both would be shy, somehow they would find courage. And then Alfred would press his lips on hers, and her mouth would be silky and warm under his, and he imagined she would for some reason taste like strawberries... and she would tremble with a small intake of breath. His hand would be on hers for a moment, until they both drew back slightly and seeing the other's expression, they would turn away blushing. For a moment, they would be utterly silent until his hand found hers again and when he turned around to face her, she would smile.
That was how it went in his head. That was how it always went. In fact, the vision was so clear that the reality seemed far more dreamlike than his fantasy.
For the most important part was: Alfred's first kiss would not take place on some terrifying old graveyard full of vampires and ugly gargoyles, and it wouldn't be a fearsome vampire count who would be the first to make his heart race so.
A small sound from Alfred, something like a strange little whimper, finally broke it. He realized his hands had risen up to grip the strong shoulders of his captor as if his life depended on it – he liked to think it was because he had meant to shove the taller man away. He was utterly dumbfounded and all he was able to do was just to stare at the Count with big, unblinking eyes while the vampire untangled his hands from Alfred's hair.
"Hmm. So you are very grateful", Krolock stated smugly. Even with his rather impressive ability of cloaking his thoughts and guarding his expressions, he couldn't suppress a large, self-satisfied smirk.
Alfred tried to say something, but the only sound he managed was a strange noise that could be described as croak.
The vampire laughed – a rich, dark sound – straightening himself into his full height and folded his arms behinds his back. Then he looked back to the young man.
"Promise not to come here again?" he asked, and this time, there was nothing forceful about his tone.
"Promise", Alfred mumbled and rose up on his feet. For some reason, his knees felt like jelly, and he very nearly fell back again. This, of course, only made the vampire's smirk widen.
"Wonderful. Would you mind delivering my cloak to Koukol? I'd like to use that garment again once he has cleaned it and fixed the fastening. After that, I shall expect you to join me in the sitting room", Krolock said lightly and before Alfred could even blink his eyes, the vampire had already walked away.
What on earth had just happened?