Something new and a little unusual. This deals with a little-touched-upon-in-fanfic lifestyle and while I myself don't live this way I hope that I will put it across alright. I'll admit I've not read the book mentioned at the end of this chapter all the way through but I know enough people who have that I hope I can convey things well. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything referenced in this story.
Vlad was watching Bertrand again. The tutor could feel his eyes following his every movement. He pretended not to notice as the Chosen One licked his lips, but he knew the boy was going to get bored of watching at some point and have to taste him; he would need to feel their lips touch, feel their bodies press together. Bertrand knew all this because he felt the same way about Vlad. It was simply a matter of patience while the boy plucked up the courage to make the first move.
Then, just as Bertrand was sure that it was finally the right moment, that Vlad was about to pounce, the doorbell rang and Vlad sped off to answer it, looking relieved. Oh, well. Bertrand could wait.
Vlad wasn't sure who he was expecting to be repeatedly ringing the doorbell like a particularly desperate double-glazing salesman, but he certainly hadn't been expecting Robin Branagh to be standing on the doorstep grinning at him.
"You suck at mind wipes. Let me in?" He stepped forward before Vlad could quite get out of the doorway, and they collided awkwardly, Robin's nose colliding with Vlad's cheek as a spark of… something surged between them. It had never really gone away, Vlad realised – he'd always had those feelings for Robin and he'd barely had chance to act on them before he left, but now…
It was the work of a moment to turn his head and press his lips to Robin's, and then Robin was kissing him back and Renfield was muttering something about sorting out a crypt and before he knew it they were all sat around the dinner table, the Count occasionally shooting a glare in Robin's direction. Bertrand took one look at the pair of them, hands linked under the table, and made his apologies before retreating to the kitchen. Vlad watched him go with a sinking feeling in his stomach; he hadn't meant to hurt his tutor, but… well, this was Robin, and it had just been automatic to fall into their old, comfortable patterns.
He still loved Robin; he was sure of that. Wasn't that the important thing, in the end?
"Robin," Vlad began delicately as they sat together reading comics three weeks later, "there's something I should probably tell you." Robin closed his comic and hauled himself up to a sitting position, back aching from sprawling on the floor.
"Sounds ominous." Vlad bit his lip.
"This is going to sound really bad, but… Well. Just hear me out. Before you showed up, I was… kinda into Bertrand. But then you came back and… I love you, you know that. But I think I might also love him." He hung his head, staring down at the floor.
Robin just stared at him for a moment before smiling and thumping him on the back.
"Well, he's not bad-looking, can't say I blame you. Hang on." He went over to his backpack, still slung carelessly in the corner of his room as he hadn't bothered to unpack yet, and began rummaging through it.
"You're not… angry? Upset?" Robin shook his head and handed him a book.
"No. I would have been, when we were first going out, when we were kids. Now I'm fine with it. Look, just have a read of this."
Vlad stared down at the title of the volume in his hands – thick by most standards, but it felt like the slimmest of paperbacks compared to what Bertrand usually forced him to study.
The Ethical Slut: A Guide to Infinite Sexual Possibilities, by Dossie Easton and Catherine A. Liszt.