Chapter Text
Albin Eberhart von Franz had always been deemed some kind of madman, one way or another.
As a child, he had always been observant of the world around him, focusing on details so minuscule that his surroundings became secondary to him. He would crouch down to look at an insect, or to pick a flower apart between his small fingers. When he fell and scratched his knee, he would look at his own blood and broken skin in wonder. When the adults talked, he would unexpectedly appear in the middle of them to ask questions no one seemed to understand or want to answer.
As he became older, this curiosity turned into passion. He started fervently consuming books on all things physical and metaphysical rather than engaging in the wild, invigorating activities of his fellow youths. As soon as he was old and knowledgeable enough, he enrolled in university for the study of medicine and natural philosophy, which helped shape his brain in a way that his curiosities could be applied into aid for other people.
He kept his habit of reading as much as he could reach and of making uncomfortable questions, which made professors either exasperated or delighted with him. His fascination for every little detail was still ever present, and his heated passion for learning and uncovering the secrets of every small thing, no matter how mundane or vulgar, was both a key to his success and a source for disturbance among some his classmates, with whom he had slowly learnt to deal with in terms that would not scandalize them too much.
His interest and curiosity extended to both old and new literature and philosophies, he used his free time to gather knowldge of the magic and occult practices of older times, and found a world of possibility within.
They spoke of nature, of the threefold harmony between the elements of the earth, the numbers and stars of the celestial sphere, and the intellectual spirits of the holy realms, of the different ways one could interact and relate to the other. Of God and his Creation as a key element to applying theories and practices that the church of the time nevertheless condemned. Treatises written with the purpose of finding thruth, of carefully performing arts that would cure the senses and help the people.
He realized he needed to join his modern medical knowledge with this. It was good and fair to have methods, experimentation, and progress on the physical realm to keep the corporeal aspect of humanity thriving. But how could one forget the metaphysical or the divine? How could one ignore the spiritual greatness that grants one the ability to heal the body, and of the perils that come when one works mindless of it?. To him, scepticism towards ancient wisdom made no sense. So, in spite of judging remarks and the rumours, he discreetly integrated occult knowledge into his practice of science.
Like this, he became known in his field, solving the most strange cases through the most strange methods, marvelling and scandalizing people with his alternative approach to what other doctors would've done, sometimes even getting better results, and challenging his own grip on reality with the mad encounters he had had on more than one occasion, although he avoided talking about this to avoid trouble. He became a professor with some wonderful students who were eager to know about his bizarre point of view on every new subject. He thrived within that careful balance that he had built his life around.
Until the balance crumbled down, and he was calumnied by his peers and thrown away by the higher authorities of his field.
After his exile, a sour bitterness towards the modern expansion of science sprouted within his heart. Disenamoured with a world that told him that an integral part of his truth was a lie, he cast away the curious part of him that longed for honest progress, solely focusing on gathering ancient knowledge and observing how the world fluctuated parallelly to his marginal existence. He would be spiteful towards the men who approached him, and surrounded himself with animals to keep him company, and with artifacts that helped him in his practice of the occult. He would read the stars every night, studying their fluctuation in alignment with each other, he could study the shapes of the fire in his hearth and the reflections of the water in his glasses to divinate how the world outside of him changed in his absence
Like this, he became old and gray, a pale spectre of what he used to be. Though he never lost the will to live, he never lost faith in his abilities and how they could someday be useful. He kept on reading the stars, on nurturing his lonesome spirit, on keeping himself well groomed and feeding the pets he kept in his house, the only ones who could understand him until the time came for the world to change into something that required him.
And suddenly, he had a new case to work on. One that required his knowledge of the divine and the occult more than ever. A dangerous, intriguing case that could determine the life and death of many.
A plague simmered though the city, killing everyone in its haste. The Plague itself, however, was no common malady, but had an incarnation of its own. A creature of evil and perfidy that had emerged from the body of what once used to be a man, a Nosferatu.
This one had not only managed to raise itself from the grave, but had also carried himself to this place after the call of another powerful creature of contraresting power: a maiden with the soul of a Sylph, a creature whose existence was not of human nor spirit, but something in between which had the power to walk among men and use its wisdom for good, but who, like man and spirit, run the risk of becoming dangerous under devilish possession. This maiden had, in an act of youthful innocence, attracted the attention of the evil spirits simmering under this corpse's skin, summoning it towards herself and those around her.
The Nosferatu, a creature that he had heard of and read about, but had never before encountered. This one even went beyond traditional cases. Normally, Undead risings were stopped within weeks or months through the staking or burning of the corpse, among other methods, but this one corpse seemed to have been alive for centuries, to the point the evil within him it had fermented into a vessel for Death himself, and traditional methods would likely not work. This meant he had an extensive investigation to do as to understand how he came to be.
He had an initial hypothesis based on what he could divinate through scrying and through what he already knew about undeath in general. Necromance was a process that could prove useful when the magician at task had the faith, goodness, and strong will required for it, reanimating the corpse carefully to avoid any harm. The corpse however, is a susceptible medium where evil spirits may take shelter if the operation is performed unsuccessfully. This long surviving corpse belonged to a magician who had tried to operate necromance within himself. A skilled magician, seeing how he had survived for so long, but one whose wish of immortality was likely guided by needless ambition, turning him into what he is now.
He needed to gather more data about his undeath, the development of the spirits within him, and how his relationship with the girl was tied. This task reinvigorated his spirit, reigniting the long gone flame of curiosity and an honest wish for progress. This time, with a chance of not only progressing in the physical world but in the spiritual one too.
The first thing he did was getting to know the girl, Ellen. She was a great young lady, with courage and wisdom that had not had the room to grow, and who, in this frivolous age, had no chances to discover and control the great power that soared within her. She had a human husband who she loved and who loved her back, but who had no way to understand what she was going through. No wonder her life was engulfed in tragedy! No wonder an evil spirit tried to take root within her! Her constant torment was something von Franz understood well, and it reminded him of his need to help others; he had to do something to let her power bloom and fulfill its purpose.
Her possession caused her grave nightmares with physical manifestations. He had been present at one of her crises of this sort, saw her shaking and convulsing on her bed in a disturbing, unhuman manner, he could sense the trail of her soul parting from her body and leaving room towards an unnerving presence that gave him a glimpse of the power they were against.
In that first occasion his immediate course of action was to faithfully invoke the help of the angels and devils that could aid him in this case, which, along with the use of a crucifix as a talisman of divine protection, soothed her ravings. The success of that temporary operation served as confirmation for what he believed was needed to confront this threat initially.
He later learnt of her husband's story too. He was a solicitor, named Thomas Hutter, and he had been called by the Nosferatu, who went by the name of Count Orlok, under the disguise of a business agreement. Orlok had held him captive for weeks on end, drinking the blood of his veins, an act that not only nourished the demon, but that, in this peculiar tale, likely established a connection with the blood of the man's betrothed by whose spirit he had been awoken.
After having known the details of one side of the affair, he went to meet the devil's disciple, none other than Thomas' boss: Herr Knock, a former businessman now become madman. Knock, like von Franz, was a lover of the magical arts; but, unlike him, had learnt them without taking heed of the dark paths that greed and mindless ambition could lead a man to, and thus had lost his mind in manic worship of an evil spirit trying to get the crumbling scraps of his power.
By looking through the things this man had gathered about the creature in his pursuit, he found material with the answers to his questions. He found the darken seals that allowed communication and dealing with this devil, and the codes that the madman had had to learn to understand it and use it properly. Along with this, a text recounting the prophecy under which the creature works. Undeath, the maiden's invocation, pestilence, it had all been predicted, and the way to end the curse had been written down too.
For Orlok to be destroyed, his forces had to be contrarested by light, the fiery element his dark soul crumbled under. The only way to achieve this was for the Maiden to sacrifice herself. It is her high powers that invoke him, and in a span of three days, she must avoid chaos from unfolding by using that otherworldly power along with her courage to join him in a union where her blood is the seal that will keep him awake until the crow of the rooster.
Like this, Death and the Maiden become one and rot together: a magnified example of the grim fate we humans, in all our soul and sin, must face when the Reaper knocks at our door.
With all this information, he could start understanding the situation, and formulating its possible resolution.
The first option was evident. Letting time do its bid and make the arrangements necessary for the course of the prophecy to reach its end. This would mean making sure Ellen has the disposition to make her due sacrifice, to be face to face with evil and accept it into her own flesh, perishing along with the beast that yearns for her in a clashing act of mutual destruction that would kill the Nosferatu and bring the world back to its usual balance.
Such resolution was probably the wiser and safer one, as its end was written and was satisfactory in paper. However, after facing the real situation, he could not find full closure in it. His heart wouldn't let him impose a death sentence on that girl, and his brain wouldn't accept fully eradicating the existence of such an intriguously complex monster in such fascinating conditions, especially not after he had barely found it out.
And so, his brain kept formulating. Both beings had great qualities of elemental and celestial nature, being able to travel through different realms, but in the threefold order under which the cosmos works, elemental and celestial are combined and understood through the intellectual. That poor girl has not yet been given a chance to explore the meaning of her power, and The Creature has forgotten the Reason he gained during his mortal life. Could their union work within its own sphere if someone provided them that intellect to make its existence whole? Was there a possibility of teaching them a way of creating a synergy between them?
What if it were possible to restrain an incarnation of Death on mortal earth? What if, in the same way one must negotiate with good and evil and the unthinkable to protect the world from Him, one could negotiate with the monster itself? Make him a specimen, a monument for the world to contemplate the force of Life and Death in the clearest way? What if the balance between the fair maiden and the devil that she must face was not attained through their mutual destruction, but through mutual living under the right conditions?
It is a perilous gamble, to have a threat of that caliber walking among the living, but, the glory that could be obtained if it were real! The fathers of alchemy, of the occult arts, were they not playing a dangerous game too? Even the rational scientists, what would be of them if not for the trial and error, for the sacrifices that are long lived instead of momentaneous, for the constant spilling of soul, tears and blood, from those who came before them? How many would have died if not for Man's constant gamble with the natural forces that seemed to surmount him?
So, let Death Himself deal and gamble with Man too, let Him know what it means to wake up everyday and choose to do what seemed undoable. So what if he's Death? Can't Death be alive? Couldn't humans, feeble and weak animals, conquer the biggest and strongest of beasts both in the physical and spiritual world, like David with Goliath? Couldn't a man come back from death? This "Death Himself" comes indeed from a man who came back from death! Let Death Himself live!
In any case, if the new plan went wrong, they would always have the prophetical alternative to fall upon. Even if the both of them still end up dying there could still be something to be learnt through a delay of that death.
He had to act swiftly, for the time was short. Since his implication in this case, he had already conversed with all the people affected by it, except for its perpetrator, which was precisely the figure that he had to negotiate with for his plan to work. So, the next action was to go into the devil's lair.
He had to be prepared against the influence of his Evil to avoid being touched by disease, and be armed with the intervention of celestial beings to be able to reason with Him. Once he had convinced him to cooperate, if he managed to, he wanted to use this expedition as an opportunity to gather as much information as possible for his knowledge to grow and so that he could wisely apply his plan on the long term: understanding how his anatomy works, opening the gates to his soul between the coarse vines that Evil had sown in his heart, and establishing the basis for his future interactions with the girl.
In privacy, he opened his mind to conjure and converse with the spirits that had aided him before, asking for their guidance once again: Zaquiel, Angel of Jupiter; Chamael, Angel of Mars; Haniel, Angel of Venus; Eligos, Great Duke of Hell ; Orobas, Mighty Prince of Hell; and Asmoday, Great King of Hell. He approached them one by one with the heart of he who fears the God that works above them all, and he begged for their mercy, their justice, their intuition, their wisdom, their strength, their guidance and necessary intervention during his task, not only towards himself but towards the Undead spirit, so that their fate could be geared in wisdom and harmony, so that an understanding and right management of all situations could be achieved.
To keep their influence on him, and to access their powers when necessary during his task, he took with him talismans with their corresponding name and symbols. He guarded them in his left breast pocket and packed a bag with any other element that could be deemed useful for some of the specific plans he had in mind, such as herbs with magical properties or tools for physical investigation, and headed towards the feared place that Orlok inhabited, the manor next to Ellen's home.
Minutes before night fell over the sky, he found himself before the door, whose lock he carefully broke before opening the gate with considerable effort.
He stood in front of the dark, torn down hall, with its crumbled rubble, clusters of powdery spiderwebs on the ceiling, and black patches of shadow emerging from the farthest corners where moonlight couldn't reach the walls, whose surface broke at the entrance of each door and corridor in sight. The smell of earth and rot was noticeable, but bearable, and along with the silence it could seem like there was nobody inhabiting the building other than the small creatures that found refuge in its crevices.
He started walking through the house, searching with his spirit and intuition as sole guide. As he turned through new doors and corners he started crossing paths with rats, with an occasional pigeon or owl flying over his head after shockingly appearing out of nowhere, and while examining the holes in the walls he found different clusters of insects and other vermin.
He knew none of those could hurt him, yet, as he kept on advancing, the creatures started appearing at a higher frequency, and he grew aware of his increasing closeness to He who was lord of these marginal beings inside the liminal, dead place he was walking across.
He kept on stepping though the thresholds and turns of the wall that blocked and revealed the light. The changing shadows couldn't scare him either, as he was used to being surrounded by them. Shadows were, after all, nothing more than the limits of light, and their study was what allowed one to follow the guiding light.
His confidence, however, started quivering as he got closer and closer to his goal, and before he even knew it, as if guided by a higher power, he found through his eyes how the light of the moon found its clear limit at the most poignant shadow of the place, Count Orlok standing in silence.
Upon being close to him he started feeling the pending loom of death over him. There was a stench in the air that filled his lungs, mixing with the fear that caused his stomach to churn in dread. He decided to accept it as part of his mission as the uncorporeal numbing wave of apprehension crept up his esophagus, his mouth, pressing at his jaws and his temples, spreading across him to the point he dimly felt every fibre of his body, at his wrists, the points of his fingers, his arms, surrounding his head, he feeling how thin the skin is, how tender the tissue of muscle underneath, how fragile the bones, how soft his brains, how the threat of slow decay that he already knew was transforming him as he aged was now more poignant than ever, feeling how every unit of matter in him was eventually bound to decomposition.
And when he saw the creature emerging from his shadow, decay became corporeal before his eyes. He was truly, as ancient texts predicted, Death himself. His hair was overgrown were it was present, but had fallen from a great area of his head, and through the gray skin he could see the holes that putrescence had born on it, showing the muscle underneath, and from his thin flesh protruded the cheekbones of the skull that every man is bound to be reduced to after the Reaper takes their souls. His dirt covered moustache drooped over his dark, rotten, bloodied lips, and his eyes were dark, staring back at him, daring him to escape from this encounter with the grave.
But this realization didn't make his horror grow as much as it made his passion come back more ardent than ever before. He really was face to face with Death! Such a glorious encounter, what an honor it was to be so close to a thing so great! And seeing it before him he could now be even more sure than ever of how human it was. Yes, that Thing, in all its monstrous appearance and antiphysical presence as an Undead, had all the features, all the hate in his eyes, of a human man.
When He finally spoke, his voice resonated through the walls. It had a deep, rasp tone, fitting for the intimidation of an unhuman monster, consequence of his worn down throat after centuries of undeath. "Who do you think you are, venturing into another's property". He spoke slowly, as if out of breath, suggesting atrophied lungs.
Von Franz guessed the man already knew the answer to that question, but he had no problem playing a game of formalities. He took his courage and answered his question: "I am Albin Eberhart von Franz, physician and practitioner of the magical arts. I come on behalf of the safety of my patient, Ellen Hutter, and of the health of all the people affected by your plague."
The Count's eyes widened in a face of angry recognition as he spoke again: "So it is your conspirations and your artifacts that expelled my spirit from her body before." He then took a wheezing breath, his silhouette rising and falling as he did so.
"It was me." Admitted the doctor casually "I hope you understand my intentions back then, I needed to diagnose the situation to be completely sure of what we are up against. But now that I have you in front of me my intention is no longer to expel, but to negotiate. From a practitioner of magic to the other"
Orlok's glare became more fixed, though his expression remained the same. "You dare insinuate there is something common between you and me. You, a mortal, a feeble outcast, dare to think you hold power only because you have played around with books and spirits for a few decades." He raised his clawed hand at himself in a gesture of distinction "I ruled lands, I have lived with Death for centuries, you would not even be here if not for my power conjuring the fate that has fallen upon this place." he took a deep breath "You disrespect my name, suggesting we are the same range. You are nothing."
Von Franz remained standing in the same place, looking at him solemnly. "You, too, insult my capacity suggesting I can be moved by the word of one who is foul and exceeds in pride."
Orlok relaxed his posture without losing his glare, talking in a lower tone "What can you offer when I don't desire but one thing."
The mortal man took a step forward, keeping his head up. "I offer a window to an alternative way of life. The object of your desire is complex, she holds divine power and ambivalence, it reaches through dimensions unknown to man while living in the mortal world. Your awakening is a sign of change, I invite you to leave room for her to act without the pressure of Death around her, and to observe what she can do in her current life."
The dead man looked at him in outraged confusion, and took a slow breath before talking steadily: "How can I leave room for her who is my only spark to stand as I am now, I cannot stand behind after she calls for me. She is not of this world, her power cannot flourish if she is at surrounding of others." Another waving breath "It is for that reason that I am here, only I can give her relief." He took from his pocket a heart shaped locket and looked at it as the ardor in his eyes shifted "Only I understand how her isolation feels"
Von Franz intervened in his speech with bright eyes "So you, too, are an outcast"
Orlok looked up from the locket, annoyed. "I know well what I am, it is still far from your lowly existance." He paused to wheeze again "You insist in your arrogance, but I will grant there is merit in your knowledge of her power and your stance in here" he took a deep breath again, lightly moving forward but not quite finishing the move.
The old man took a step forward as he spoke again "Well, age does come with wisdom. My years might seem insignificant to your lifespan, but there is a value in mortal eldernness that you might have forgotten after wallowing in your unmoving age"
Orlok kept locking his stare at him, answering him as impatiently as he could with his slow flow of air him "Immortality has its own wisdom, mine sprouted from a life of conquest. You cannot understand, blinded by the light of goodness."
A rat moved across the room, passing near von Franz, who picked it up out of curiosity as he listened to the Count's remarks.
"And you think goodness constrains her too." Said von Franz as he petted the rat's head "Her friendships and the love in her life, you really think that by killing them you will dim that light of goodness, that you will make her more powerful?"
Orlok became even more confused at seeing von Franz's bizarre gesture towards the rat but tried to ignore it as he spoke again "She is trapped in those empty fantasies. She is surrounded by humans who are inferior to her and cannot recognize her value, any attempt to connect is rejected." He took another deep, resonating breath before regaining his speech in a more present voice "In the same manner, everything I touch cannot help but run towards death, and I am cursed to keep these lowly creatures around me as sole company. I stand waiting for her to give over the hand she offered in despair, so our suffering can be completed. That is the power and the change you preach to me about. There is no other end."
Von Franz looked up from the little rodent, and spoke in a queerly light-hearted tone, twisting the conversation again "Lowly creatures? I thought you would consider them your friends." He said as he looked back at the rat's head which he kept petting "I have plenty of those, although in my case they're cats, a little ironic perhaps. But both creatures can be very smart in their own little niches" he gently dropped the rat, releasing it as it ran carelessly towards another corner of the building.
"Cut your mad observations, tell me what you want." Orlok growled in a rushed, dry tone. He was getting impatient but, for some reason, his spirit couldn't be tipped over to the point of killing this man at the spot for his insolence, he stood leaning forwards waiting for the mortal to explain his nonsense.
"Ellen Hutter keeps on walking through the mortal realm, and in spite of your doomed speech, some do love her after all these years, and she shares that appreciation. Even if her condition is not ideal, she has a potential that needs the earthly world as much as the celestial one, and you are holding her back in turn." Explained von Franz.
Orlok's answer was given in a low voice as his anger simmered within with every new insistence from von Franz "No love or appreciation can help her be what she truly is, it only leads to her self denial, she is confused-"
"Or are you?" Cut von Franz in exaltation, vividly gesticulating and stepping closer to the shadow "Only a confused man could get reduced to this after the glorious life you proclaim about to demand respect. Without principles to guide you, you got lost in your ambition, sacrificed everything to have an eternal life, only for that life to be not an exaltation of your former glory, but a mockery of it. To be increasingly hated by those to surround you, to be in a constant cycle of death and hunger, you kill without ever being sated, and you haven't even achieved half of what you did in your previous life, your soul is too empty to even enjoy what little scraps you have left. You, who are powerful and must be well aware of your acquired nature, should know completion in your current state would destroy you. Ellen is a determined woman, and if she joins you it will be to bring you down with her!"
This time, Orlok bursted in anger, responding in a rumbling shout. "Do you really think me so blind that I don't know of such destiny? Do you think me imbecile? That I don't seek to die? She's the blind one! You should convince her to stop her hot-headed obsession with that mortal, that scum of man who dared approach what is not his, who decided to join a woman with powers he cannot understand." He took a loud breath after this. "You claim to know much, yet you come here to talk to me instead of her." He gestured with his hand as much as his body let him while he spoke. "It is her who has the power to sate me. It is her who must accept her departure from a world that does not embrace her darkness like I do."
The Professor was now in front of the Count, their shades conjoined on the floor under the dim moonlight. "If dying was what you truly desire, you would've thrown yourself into the sun before she had even been born. And if you really hated that 'mortal she's obsessed with' you would have killed him by now! You would have not kept him alive, you would've not kept him fed and played with his mind day after day, coming back to drink from him-"
On hearing the last accusation, Orlok lost what was left of his patience and lunged at von Franz.
But before he could close the distance, the doctor took from his pocket a branch with a cone of small purple flowers and held it firmly in front of him, halting his violent advance and separating their shadows again.
Orlok stood in silent shock before the conic inflorescence, whose fragrance drowned the stench of death both men had gotten used to.
"Lilac." Said the Dead one, looking at the other. "How could you know?"
"I told you elderness comes with its knowledge and wisdom" replied the man. "This flower is from the same land as you, is it not? You must know it should bloom at the beginning of spring, and yet, we are in the middle of winter and its flowers appeared out of nowhere shortly before your coming. I have consulted my knowledge where needed, this plant is the bridge between your spirits and hers."
Orlok stood silent for a moment staring at the flower before turning back into the shadows as he looked down and reached for something in his pocket. "She bears the fragrance of that flower"
Von Franz walked around Orlok towards his side while still holding the branch, leaning down trying to look at the object in the Count's hand. "What is it that keeps you tied to that thing?" He asked.
Orlok, annoyed, lightly turned away from von Franz, hiding the locket from sight. "It is not of your concern".
Von Franz stood silent by him, not changing his posture, looking at his hand inquisitively, and then back at him.
Not wanting to look cowardly by further avoiding the question, Orlok opened his hand towards the moonlight and spoke. "Her hair is within this artifact. It was delivered to me as reminder of her promise"
"Delivered?" Asked von Franz, knowing there was a distorted truth in that affirmation.
"Her intention of deliverance worked unconsciously, she gave it to her human husband before he parted towards me."
"And I suppose he gave it to you unconsciously too?"
"The conscience of a weak man is not to be taken into account. He is but a transaction." said Orlok, hiding the object from the light again.
"A man whose heart keeps such a strong hold towards a powerful being like Ellen cannot be considered weak, and I don't think escaping from your grasp can be the action of a weak man either, unless you had let him go?" commented von Franz getting closer to him again, trying to read his dead face.
Orlok took a deep, loud, wavering breath as he hid further in the shadows, since he knew there was no use in lying or denying his failure, but von Franz kept stepping after him.
The Professor kept on speaking. "You have that locket but it is not you who acquired it, and you know it is not for you that the lock of hair was cut. If she dies with you, it will not just be out of a wish for death, but out of love for those you threaten to destroy."
"You know his husband is ignorant despite all that. He gives away the fire of his passion trying to shed light upon what cannot be lit." Orlok breathed again. " She will burn for it, be it under his fire or under the sun with me." He turned his head to look at von Franz, and his eyes had never looked so dead or so alive. He no longer wore his intimidating glare, and his expression seemed almost numb, but the faintest hint of emotion gave him the semblance of a man who has given up to despair, whose soul exists but is lost between the clouds that obscure his heart.
Von Franz stepped back and stood straight to look at him resolutely "Earlier, you said I am blinded by light, but earlier even, you called me an outcast. I have seen the blinding capacities of light in front of me, but I understand its necessity as my guide. Darkness is what gives rest to our eyes when fire burns them, and indeed the modern man is a fool for avoiding it and burning everything in his way. But without light, there is no warmth or shelter for man, and even as an immortal you need light to cast the shadows you belong to. Ellen is between both worlds, even if she deserves a rest from the heat of the human world, there is a value in the warmth of her husband's love. She needs to accept your darkness, and you shall in turn accept her light, be it through love or through the sun."
Orlok fully turned his body towards von Franz as he retracted his affirmations "I cannot love, I am an appetite, meant to pass by and burn." The light returned to his eyes as he took another breath "The sun is the only way to extinguish me then, stop with your offers and your hopes."
"You've become so engulfed in your madness that you no longer recognize what exists beyond that," retorted the doctor, raising his finger as his voice increased with each sentence "but your soul is there, hiding among the shadows that conform the rest of your spirit. You were a man before anything else, and if that man's body came back from the dead, then so can that man!"
The Count stared at him in silent surprise for a moment "How shall you achieve that."
Von Franz calmed his posture and explained. "It would be a feat as slow as decay, it could take us months, maybe years, for the results to be satisfactory. It will not be pleasant, but we already know that the acceptance of unpleasantness is crucial for your situation." Orlok looked at him, waiting for him to finally reveal what he really came here for. Von Franz continued. "I mean to seal the evil spirits within you in a way that is harmless, to work with it in a controlled way like a magician is meant to do when working with devils. To accept your chaos and understand it, for everything around us is chaos. If Ellen is meant to come to you, she will do it by her own will, without the threat of death. Acting with such harmony inside the chaos, we could even uncover secrets about you two that you yourself might be unaware of." He looked at Orlok with honest eyes.
"So you want me to live eternity like a leashed dog. You think you can humiliate me like that?" Replied Orlok, bewildered.
"You had your fate decided until now, you can commit that dual suicide you long for whenever you think the treatment is not working." Said von Franz nonchalantly, turning his look towards the window. "But you might humiliate yourself running away from eternity like that."
"And now you dare threaten me." Said Orlok in disbelief.
"Just like you threaten poor Ellen so she assists with your death" said the man, still looking at the window.
Orlok walked slowly towards the light of the window, next to von Franz. "Why come up with all this instead of leaving us be. You compromise to stay years spending your power on us just so the world can work as normal." Another breath. " You risk too much. Why."
Von Franz answered as the moon lit his resolute, solemn face. "I already said I wish to help my patient as much as possible. Love for God and his Creation is enough to compromise a man. Faith makes one fearless before risk."
The Count looked at him and knew there was something else. Von Franz turned to face him and continued. "But I must admit my love manifests itself in strange ways. Intrigue is one of them." He stepped a little closer to Orlok, looking at the chest that hid his unbeating heart. "I am intrigued by the secrets of your nature. Your anatomy, the soul that lied within, I can't let it go to dust." He looked up at his face sincerely. "I share your vision that you are great and powerful. In fact, I may believe it more than you"
Orlok stood before him in silent amazement, his dark eyes widened as his chest heaved slowly. He was dumbfounded.
"You are a crazy old man."
"And you're a creepy old man, not a bad pair, you and I" Retorted von Franz, raising his eyebrows, holding back a small grin.
He was like no mortal Orlok had ever seen before. Ellen was called magnetically towards his darkness, a mystical bond that tied them together regardless of her control over it; meanwhile, this man did not have such darkness brewing in him but had chosen to move along with it, to understand it, daring to speak confidently with it. He was rejected by society for his studies of the occult and chose to stay that way, unlike Him who was doomed to exist outside of the human species in exchange for eternal undeath.
Said discovery intrigued him just like von Franz was intrigued in him. So he responded coaxing his choice again.
"Flirtration with death is not commendable for a man old as you."
Now, von Franz smiled fondly. "I've gone through worse," Orlok raised his eyebrows, questioning him silently, a confoundedly human gesture "I might tell you about it if you live to next month." said von Franz with a casual poise and mischief in his voice, a complete contrast to the seriousness of their previous conversation.
The man really was mad, but Orlok suddenly couldn't see any issue with it, finding himself slowly embraced by the sudden shift of the atmosphere. He was mad too after all.
"What exactly makes me live to next month?" Orlok's tone was drier and deeper than what expected from a human, but the shift to casualness was still palpable in him. And von Franz beamed.
“I’ll tell you all about it. Is there anywhere we can sit down comfortably so I can explain?” said the old man, talking about a circumstance of life and death as if it were a gathering for tea.
“There is a room across the corridor with old chairs.”
“Perfect, lead the way and I'll explain the principles of my treatment in the meanwhile.”
Orlok walked slowly, as fast as his dead legs could carry him. His shadowy figure bobbing up and down at a heavy-footed pace with every step he gave as von Franz followed after him, providing his explanation as they passed across dusty halls and hiding creatures.
“Before you meet with Ellen, the first goal is to stop the spread of Death. In order to stop the spread by air, the spirits of Evil and Disease must be contained within you so they don't seep out and influence your surroundings. Of course, containment must be done in a way that doesn't break you or risk bursting within you. For this purpose, I already made sure to acquire the favor of some divine spirits so their wisdom mediates that situation.”
“You wear their talismans above your heart, in your coat.” added Orlok without halting his movement.
“I see you sense their influence then, good.” Continued the doctor. “To stop the fluid spread, any exchange of liquid between bodies must be avoided unless said liquid is purified, which means controlling any possible spillage of blood. Spiritual containment should keep your own blood, which is a vessel of life, from bursting out of you, and would make your feedings controlled enough. Any other liquid can be stopped through physical barriers. To stop the spread by touch, both spiritual containment and physical barriers could be useful. My idea is to test any method of protection you're comfortable with.”
“We arrived.” Announced the Count as they reached an open room with a few scattered chairs and a long coffee table, its wood broken and splintered, standing on only three of its feet.
Von Franz walked towards the chairs and set two of them near the most stable edge of the table, holding one of them out for Orlok, who looked at his gentlemanly gesture scornfully and sat down slowly without the man’s assistance.
“What's in your bag?” He asked.
“That's exactly what I meant to show you now” Said von Franz while he sat down, taking off his bag and setting it at the table, opening it.
“You must know that I came ready to need any sort of protection, and to test anything on you, not all my preparations need to be used today.” He said looking at Orlok before taking out the elements in his bag one by one.
“First off,” he pulled out a bunch a white cloth and uncovered what it kept inside “fresh lilacs. My thesis is that your Evil spirits get trapped within their essence, avoiding it from coming out onto another being in contact with you through the barrier of lilac. For that same reason I have infused oil and water with some of the other lilac flowers I picked from my garden." He took out two glass bottles with water and oil.
“There is lilac in your garden?” asked Orlok, surprised.
“Yes, they are quite common in European gardens, even if they are not native. They are usually planted because of the beauty of their flowers and their fragrance, and they are also quite a hardy plant. I grow them because they have some medicinal properties and because I simply like them, I suppose destiny did its bidding there.” He said as he pulled out the rest of the objects in his bag: a cloth covering a thorny branch, two small cloth bags with something inside it, a tinder box, two candles, one wide and low which stood on its own and another thinner, longer one; a small iron crucifix, a small knife, a long needle, a quizzing glass, leather gloves, and a strange piece of thin leather in the shape of a cylinder with a rounded edge.
“This branch here is wild rose, they are said to stop the Undead from opening their coffins when they are put above them, so I wondered if that worked for you” He said, taking the cloth off the branch. “Inside this one bag is garlic, which is also a repellent. I don't know if these methods work with a creature as powerful as you, but I'd like to do the experiment.”
“I does nothing to stop me. It has been tried.”
“Not by someone of my condition, has it?”
“...No.”
“Exactly” said Von Franz, resuming his exposition, opening the bag to reveal a small piece of wood “This is Lignum-Aloe, an ingredient for the fumes of both Jupiter and Venus, Zachiel and Haniel’s domain, stars of Life and Love, respectively, and both associated to blood and the element of air. I will light it up with these” he pointed at the tinder box and the candles “to create a fume that will control your chaos without eradicating it.”
“The thorns and the garlic, along with iron, which is in the crucifix and the needle, are elements of Mars, Chamuel’s domain, which has a merely preventative function here. I don't think the iron objects will be needed now.
“Now,” he followed, picking the quizzing glass and gloves “These would be used to observe and study your anatomy if you allowed me to. I would be wearing the gloves as an impermeable barrier to fortify security before I make sure the lilac fulfills that function.”
Only the cylindrical piece of thin skin was left to show, and Orlok looked at it questioningly.
“And this” von Franz looked at him with an awkward face as he picked it up to expose its use. Seeing it form up close, its shape seemed almost phallic. “is a baudruche, also known as a safe or a french armor. It is used to stop the spread of venereal disease among humans, that is, diseases of... sexual nature.” He looked at the Count hesitantly, waiting for his reaction at the implications of what he had just explained.
Orlok’s face stayed unreadable, although his eyes seemed calm. “Who’s the creepy old man now?” He voiced in his usual tone.
Von Franz couldn’t discern if the accusation was meant to be a joke, but it did seem light-hearted, so he replied with a coy smile and wide eyes, putting his hands up in acquiescence “I’m only asking. It is up to your choice how far the experiment goes.”
The dead man stared at him with his eyes narrowed, breathing slow and steadily for a few seconds before answering. “Start your experiment, and I will tell how far you shall go.” He took another breath.
“Well then,” said von Franz, getting up from the chair, “we should go towards the window, so I can see you better under the light. You can go there while I grab my things.”
Orlok got up slowly and started walking towards the beam of moonlight that fell through the window. As he approached it, von Franz, who already had the necessary instruments in his arms, told him “You can also begin taking off your coat”.
Orlok looked at von Franz as he came towards him and spoke in response. “I will not go through such indignity unless you do it too”. Von Franz stopped before him, surprised.
"Okay." He said, taking off his jacket and folding it before putting it on the floor.
Orlok took his cloak off and dropped it on the floor as von Franz placed the wide candle on the floor and lit it with the tinder box. Then, he lit the piece of Lignum-aloe with the candle’s flame.
“Spread your coat evenly on the floor and lie down comfortably, it's where I shall perform the examination” requested von Franz.
Orlok did what he was asked and lied down, looking up at the doctor who pointed the wood at him, spreading its fumes around him and his coat while mumbling a prayer. The atmosphere changed, the candle’s flame grew higher and thinner, the air heavier and warmer, the meagre light on the scene brighter.
He left the Lignum-aloe on the floor and put the gloves on, looking around for the quizzing glass. He glanced at his folded-down jacket and whispered “Ah, right, that's what I was forgetting about” he unfolded it and took from one of the pockets a small notebook with a pencil. “I must leave a record of my findings.”
He walked towards Orlok and set the notebook next to him, kneeling with his knees parallel to Orlok's body and leaning over his face to inspect it with the glass.
First, he inspected his eyes, opening their lids carefully with his fingers. “The first thing that is remarkable about your face is how alive your eyes are, normally a cadaver’s eyes turn cloudy upon its first day of death, but yours are deep and dark,” he stated in a soft voice full of wonder “and up close they don't seem to have anything different from living eyes, and yet” he took his fingers off his eyes and turned his face gently, checking the holes in the skin of his face, touching them for an instant with his fingers, like a child testing a new texture “your skin bears the erosion of a few weeks’ death.” he looked at him back in the eyes, but not with the glass. “You're marvelous.” he whispered as his gloved thumb glided across the thin skin of his cheekbones landing over his crusty, blackened lips, opening them.
He got close to his face again, analyzing the inside and outside of his mouth with the glass. His eyes widened in wonder at what he saw. The teeth were pointed to draw out blood, the skin of his mouth was dark, gray and necrosed. He pulled his tongue out to inspect its dry, rough surface and then studied the other internal tissues of the mouth as he pondered out loud.
“Your mouth is like a landscape, the crooked points of your teeth, the different shades of necrosy upon it, the soft cacophony of your rumbling breath, it accounts for such a beautiful image.” He put his head up, broadening the distance between their faces, and put both of his hands to the sides of Orlok's face, who was gazing back at him with wide eyes too.
“It is truly worth kissing.
May I test the possibility of casting one's lips upon it?” pleaded the doctor.
“Yes” replied Orlok without hesitation, not knowing how to feel towards such novel and strange compliments towards him.
“I'll get the protection.” said von Franz before stretching over to grab the bottle of oil, the cloth with fresh lilac, and the bag with garlic, stopping by to note things down on the notebook.
He ointed his lips with oil and took a clove of garlic from the bag “We'll start testing the power of garlic over you.” He put the clove in his mouth and approached Orlok's face, finding an opposing force that made it impossible to close the distance between them, and Orlok's face turned out in rejection.
He took the clove out of his mouth and put the bag out. “So garlic is effective.” He noted his conclusion down as he kept commenting them out loud. “It could mean that the presence of divine protection increases your vulnerability, and my feeling of an oppressive force against my approach makes it clear that this divine protection is avoiding unnecessary harm towards you too.” He put the pencil down and smiled at Orlok in triumph.
“Let's test the lilac now, shall we?” chirped von Franz as he took a lilac cone and turned towards Orlok, grabbing his chin “Open.”
Orlok should have been appalled by the order, but he followed it nevertheless. Von Franz put the lilac in his mouth and closed it before closing the distance between their lips.
It started as a single kiss.
“It worked.” murmured von Franz before kissing him again, this time testing deeper kisses, opening his lips, letting them clash and fit over Orlok's, burning into his memory the rusty texture of his dead lips gliding against his through the oil and the faint taste of blood.
Orlok’s usual breathing sound was interrupted by something similar to a deep gasp during the parting and reuniting of their lips, which von Franz took as a cue of pleasure, deepening their kiss further by opening his mouth and diving into Orlok's lilac filled mouth.
Here, without oil inside his mouth, he was able to notice the dryness of Orlok’s mouth against his tongue as the small flowers got in the way between them.
They stayed a few moments tonguing into each other's mouths, gasping and exploring without moving any other part of their bodies, before von Franz parted to continue with his experimentation.
They looked at each other gasping for a few instants before von Franz sat up and took the lilac off Orlok's mouth to allow him speech.
“How was it?” Asked the doctor.
“What do you mean?” Asked the monster, still fazed.
“Any strange or important feelings? Anything you noticed?” Interrogated von Franz has he wrote in his notebook.
“It was a kiss.” uttered Orlok, not knowing how to feel over such a human thing done to him so directly. He had always expected Ellen to be the only one able to do it, but this old man had done it with his permission within hours of knowing him and without death winning him over.
Von Franz set his pencil down again and took one glove off. He put one of his bare fingers inside the oil bottle and firmly touched inside one of the wounds in Orlok's face.
“No reaction” he mused before taking the other gloves off.
“I will begin the study your upper body now, take off your upper garments and I'll remove mine”
Orlok took off his sash, tunic, and undershirt, watching as von Franz undid his scarf and the buttons on his waistcoat.
When von Franz unbuttoned his shirt, he revealed a pentagram seal drawn over his chest, which Orlok stared at questioningly.
“What? It’s a seal with the power of health.” Alleged von Franz. “You should know that. I told you I came prepared.”
Orlok lay down again, shirtless, and von Franz stopped for a second to admire the view below him as he put oil back in his hands. The Count's expectant, calm face, his wide chest rising and falling slowly, his gray skin full of signs of rot, his bones protruding from beneath without breaking it, all in disposition for him to explore.
He then ran his hands over his skin, starting by the neck and going further down, slowly, gathering every little change in the Count's reaction when he went over a new spot.
The muscle of one of the sides of his neck was exposed due to the decomposition of his skin, and he made sure to touch it with special care, almost feather-like, as his other hand caressed the thin remaining skin on the other side, feeling how his throat vibrated with his deep breathing.
He kept driving his hand down his neck until it crossed the sharp bridge of his clavicle, where the skin had stopped falling off, and gently circled the irregular line of broken skin with his finger, regarding his face, seeing how he slightly flinched before giving in to relaxation when he caressed the surface of his rotten tissues, spreading his fingers across them, pressing a little to observe their reduced flexibility.
He leaned down and kissed the flesh too, and when he was satisfied with his study of that area of his skin, he moved on to his chest, putting his ear over his ribcage, right above his heart.
Orlok’s lungs raised noticeably at this, and von Franz put his hands on each side of his ribcage, as if grabbing it, but making no pressure.
“Breathe normally.” requested von Franz.
Orlok wanted to argue that it was impossible with what he was doing. Placing his head right over the void center of his desire, the organ that used to be the motor of his blood, a resource he has been desperately craving for centuries. The presence of a human near it propelled him to absorb him into that void, to flip him over and bite into his mortal heart.
But von Franz's preparations and the fragrance of lilac put a halt over his impulses, and he tried to slow down his breathing to its usual rhythm.
Von Franz read the sound of his lungs, his head and his hands moving along with the shifting of the ribcage. As he listened in silence, he kept his eyes fixed on the small broken cariosities and clumps of dry blood that decorated the skin in his chest.
Von Franz retreated slowly from his chest and marked down what he had noticed.
“Turn around, on your stomach. And take off your pants” He petitioned, although it was said like an order.
Orlok slowly sat up and took off his pants and undergarments, revealing his soft shaft and his boney legs, which von Franz glimpsed at with surprisingly no sign of disgust.
As von Franz removed his shoes, pants, and drawers in turn, Orlok found another thing that surprised him. This time it was not a magical element. Although one could hardly call that natural.
The Professor had an abnormally huge organ between his legs. Inhumanly sized, even. Its sight was admittedly confusing.
Of course, Orlok took it as a sign of virility, which explained how as a mortal man he could have earned his respect so quickly. He made no comment on it.
Silently, he turned around, leaning on his weak arms as he could, laying on his stomach with his back exposed.
Von Franz bent over Orlok with each of his palms on the floor to the sides of his shoulders, keeping his two legs to one side of him.
He raised one of his hands to run his fingers down Orlok's skin, stroking one of the big folds of breached tissue, opening it, prodding underneath to explore the texture of the soft, dry, flesh, until his finger found a wet bud inside.
“My, what do we have here” he gasped, leaning over to look closer at what he had stumbled upon.
A white maggot making its refuge in the cold cradle of the wound, which he took in his finger to draw it in his notebook as he kept on musing about his encounter.
“Do you usually have these on you?”
“They live in the native soil of my coffin.” answered Orlok taking a deep breath, aghast by how mad this man was. “normally they crawl on me while I sleep, that one is caught in my skin by accident.”
“They don't feed on your flesh then?” Asked von Franz, writing.
“No. They are immortal as me”
“Makes sense.” He murmured, putting the maggot down on the floor “I didn't see any eggs on your other cavities, so there is no active cycle here.”
He came to him again to examine his spine, placing his hand gently below his neck, where his vertebrae had distorted themselves into a hump.
“Your back is straighter than usual in this position” observed the doctor, annotating his observation and putting the pencil down. “Try getting up on your knees.”
Orlok looked at him defiantly as he got up on his knees and elbows and slowly raised his torso, sitting up on his calves, with his back hunched over as he usually was when he stood. In the meanwhile, von Franz re-oiled his hands.
"Your skin clings against your spine, as if your skeleton was poking at your body” he thought out loud as he shifted his fingers vertebra over protruding vertebra, “Making the outline of your bones perfectly examineable as you move.
“Try to keep your back straight.” he inquired as he placed one hand on the cadaver's shoulder, pulling in the opposite direction to his slouch, trying to correct it. The hand on his spine stayed unmoving, noting how the bones relocated under his hands as their arch changed.
“Try to stay like that.” Von Franz took his hands off Orlok, and the latter began to hunch over again, his atrophied bones not able to hold themselves over the inflammation between them. Orlok made a light grunt of defeat.
“It's alright, it's the expected reaction.” Reassured von Franz, further running his hands down Orlok's back, spreading the oil over it, casting a glimmer over the many bumps of his bones and the skin and flesh around his wounds.
He kissed the small of his back and the sides of his waist as his hands moved down and up Orlok's legs, feeling his femur and his radium through the almost nonexistent muscle in his lower body.
It was a strange sensation for Orlok, to feel the smack old man's lips upon his body and the glide of his hands amply stroking his flesh and bone. It made something rush through him, something in his spirit that coursed along his veins as blood would if he had any.
The examination was starting to turn into something else. Although it had already been something else.
Von Franz got his head back up, level to Orlok's, his naked body kneeling beside his.
“Lie back down”
It had been almost whispered to his ear, a sensual gesture whose intentionality the Count could not ascertain.
Carefully, Orlok lay on his back again, his chest flat and exposed to the Professor’s attentions once again. His dead heart still unbeating.
“I want to test another restriction, if it's fine by you” said von Franz with the rose branch in his hands, still kneeling next to Orlok's prone body. “My idea was to put this over your arms, and see if it can stop their movement”
Orlok looked at him shocked, but nodded all the while, and, without barely thinking about what he was doing, lifted his arms over his own head.
“Very well” whispered von Franz with a smile, slowly approaching Orlok’s arms, and putting the rose branch over them with utmost care, with the steadiness of one who is passing next to a beast, or, perhaps, as if he was giving him time to reconsider.
Once the branch was over his arms, von Franz resumed with his requests. “Try to raise your arms.”
No result.
“Try to speak.”
“Touch me.” was the first sentence Orlok's mind could conjure.
“Good.” said von Franz as he put one of his legs over Orlok, kneeling now on top of him, almost straddling him “Do tell me if you want me to stop at any time.”
“Yes” mustered Orlok, unable to take his eyes of the view of the man above him, the wrinkles along his old body, the human figure sustained by his bones and the muscles that had thinned with time, the hair above his chest under which the pentagram was still drawn, the smell of his blood flowing steadily in excitement, the light of his blue eyes. Life above him, commanding, and venering him at the same time.
Following his analytic veneration, von Franz run his hands down Orlok's sides, searching for a reaction, generously spreading his hands over his chest, careful of the slide of his fingers over each irregularity, making Orlok's ribcage rise again in a deep breath under those hands, which stilled as von Franz resumed his speech of admiration while he listened to his lungs again to observe the difference between the last time.
"Your decay is a most revealing treasure, these patches of grey hues that go from reddish to blue, every opening and protruding above and below your skin, your varingly eroded muscles, it is a masterpiece of nature” he noticed how Orlok's breathing changed as he spoke. “The powers of Earth have sculpted a most beautiful mystery within you, and the powers of Chaos have kept it intact.” He sat back to put everything down in his notebook, taking noticeably more time than what he had in his previous pauses.
He then caressed reverently along the thin skin of Orlok's stomach, which seemed to quiver minutely with the touch of his gentle, wrinkled hand, pressing here and there to notice the presence of organs below it, and found himself probing at the holes his hand’s touch fell upon again, moving his fingers around them with extreme care to not damage the tissue underneath them.
The study of this creature truly was like a study to the limits of life and light itself, a living monument to Memento Mori, a most remarkable paradox in action.
He lied with no heartbeat, no sign of blood flowing through his veins or reddening his skin, but he breathed, he moved, and he reacted to the touch, and through his eyes longing and confusion could be seen.
The mortal man dug his finger into the immortal wounds like a twisted St. Thomas before an Antichrist, and it was the immortal who looked at him incredulously instead of the other way around.
Despite immortality, despite his strength and power that moved storms, he was fragile, he looked like the slightest wrong touch would make his skin fall off and his bones dismount from each other.
The Professor revelled in his contemplations of Death. Life had never been so clear to him precisely because it had never been so diffuse. Such a precious thing, yet so easy to find anywhere one looked for it in. He wanted to show this creature what Life was like, make him learn again.
Von Franz went off his place at his chest to drive his head further down Orlok's torso, his lips ever minutely brushing against him as he went on with his oral veneration: "If I didn't have my brains to stop me, I'd be tempted to drink from the sparse chalice of your veins, to taste what death feels like, to relish your essence flowing through my spirit, studying every effect it inflicts upon me" Orlok gawked at him at him intensely, the darkness in his eyes growing "Alas, that would defeat the purpose of what we're doing in the first place, wouldn’t it?" he remarked with a smile as he leaned closer to the vampire's loins.
He slid his hand over the line of his soft shaft before grabbing it from the base with one hand, slowly stroking up and down, observant of Orlok's face, whose eyes were openly looking down at him in fascination and arousal as his breath quivered.
“You don't have enough blood for this organ to get rigid, but you can still feel its stimulation, am I right?” Presumed von Franz carefully retracting his foreskin, contemplating the appearance of his dead glans, dark and abnormally dry.
Orlok assented slowly, ignoring the affront on his own virility.
"Then I suppose you'd allow me a chance to test it." Von Franz got up for a moment, wrote down his observations, and took the baudruche.
He took Orlok's cock and carefully slipped the safe around it. Then, he leaned his head down so that his mouth stood near the tip, so close that Orlok could feel his breath against it, and with the dark look of desire that had been growing in his eyes since the moment he first laid them on his skin, he said with a surprisingly stern voice:
“Now, keep in mind that there's no need to hold back your sounds, but it is imperative that you do not bite your lip, as you don't have much blood to spare.”
Orlok nodded again, looking back at him with a desperate look in his face, tensed in anticipation, and lifted his hand towards von Franz's head. The doctor expected him to grab it aggressively to move it towards his cock, but he simply pushed softly, clearly suppressing his force, towards it, and von Franz closed his lips around his tip, starting to suck and lick it with a circular motion of his tongue without breaking eye contact.
He stared intensely at Orlok, whose eyes were half closed in pleasure, jaws clenched trying not to make a sound, his chest heaving as his lungs drew a breath with a struggling sound.
Orlok could hear von Franz’s heart beating faster, how his blood quickly passed through the small veins of the lips that surrounded his soft flesh.
And with no further pause, those lips took the shaft deeper inside his mouth, his head moving back up right after, licking at the tip again before going down slowly, repeating these motions until his cock was as deep inside him as his mouth could allow, finding a rhythm that turned the Count's restrained, low grunts into open mouthed moans, with the occasional wheezing whine whenever he did something right with his tongue.
Orlok started rolling his hips in harmony with von Franz's working head, his movements fueled by the melting heat that was building in his stomach with each new wave of pleasure. They were not in perfect synchrony, but they managed to work as a constant mechanism.
Constant. The fire inside him was constant, being kept by the careful, calculated motions of the old man's tongue, but it didn't seem any close to eruption. He was enjoying his touch, even when it didn't make him starve for more.
Von Franz was enjoying himself too, moaning appreciatively as Orlok's cock entered his mouth with each wave of his head against his hips, closing his eyes and feeling the soft flesh of the shaft sinking in and out of his spit-wet lips and touching the back of his throat every few moments.
The baudruche offered a strange source of friction for both of them, but didn't make it any less pleasurable. Von Franz held it tight so it wouldn't slip off as he went up sucking with his mouth, but one could still feel how the skin of the baudruche clinged or loosened on the shaft every time he licked or sucked on it.
Von Franz kept his hands on Orlok's legs, stroking up and down in the rhythm of their movements, travelling behind his thighs to pull him closer while his fingers caressed the skin above his bones.
It arrived at a point where Orlok slowed down the movement of his hips, and von Franz, who had grown accustomed to his motions but had been starting to feel his jaw getting sore, looked at him expectantly.
Orlok took a deep, rasp breath and said "That is enough of that."
Von Franz slipped his mouth out of his cock and asked "Would that be all?"
Orlok looked at him, his body still wanting more but not knowing how to ask for it.
"Do something else. Make yourself feel pleasure too." He didn't want to be the only one to lose himself.
He heard von Franz's heart beating faster again, wondering if that pace was appropriate for his age anymore. The Count liked the sound, he wanted to keep on hearing it, regardless of whether or not his tongue would ever get to taste the source.
"I can rub myself against you, if you want" said the doctor, gesturing towards his own cock, lying soft between his legs too.
"Your blood is not rushing there either" observed Orlok.
"Oh, don't take it in offense, age has rendered it unable to function as it used to" said von Franz unashamed.
"Get here then."
Von Franz took the oil and spread it on his hand before getting on top of Orlok, spreading his open legs over his hips, lining their shafts with his help.
"You are flexible" observed Orlok again.
"I try to keep myself in shape."
It was a somewhat awkward position at first. He began moving his hand, making sure the oil got around both of them to ensure a smooth friction between them.
He mainly focused on stroking the end of their cocks, as it was the most sensitive part. After some trying around, he got to a steady rhythm that adjusted to both of them, hearing how Orlok hummed lowly in appreciation.
Von Franz had one of his forearms next to Orlok's head to support his weight, but as his movement started taking shape, lowered his whole arm down, propping his face against Orlok's neck as they both groaned in unison and started moving their hips together to aid the swiftness of the movement.
Then, Orlok put his bigger hand in the way to perform the stroking himself and decided to take the reins, rolling them over. He leaned completely over von Franz, who was now lying over his coat, spreading his legs wider to better accommodate him on top, wrapping his calves around his back to further aid their mutual humping.
With Orlok's wide frame properly fit over him, they worked in tandem to bring each other pleasure. Von Franz closed his eyes to enjoy how their limbs combined their rhythmic motions in a sort of lustful dance, their heads pressed together, breathing in each other's ears, each in his own particular timbre.
For a moment, Orlok's rasp breathing seemed smoother, more high pitched, making a sound akin to a moan. Von Franz opened his eyes and found the Count's pupils rolled back, with one of the eyelids almost twitching in pleasure. His mouth was agape showing his sharp teeth as he groaned with every spur of their hips. He was lost in pleasure, and looked even more vulnerable than what he did when von Franz was the one on top, guiding their actions.
The Professor found the monstrously sweet display endearing, his first reaction being a kiss to the boney cheek, then on the hollow below it, advancing in small pecks towards the lips.
He quickly grabbed a lilac cone to shove it between their mouths, his tongue delving inside in a passionate kiss, lilac flowers spilling everywhere inside and out their mouths, on their lips, over their gums, below their palate, caught between the frenzied friction of their tongues.
Like sand on a shoe, von Franz knew he would keep finding lilac flowers at the end of his throat for months on end, their mellow, tangy taste almost nauseous after their clashing teeth mauled them into a pulp between them.
As the lilac kept spreading over their mouths, the room got filled with their fragrance. They kept on pushing against each other through this flowery reverie in every way their limbs and organs could reach each other without tearing them apart.
Because of the restraints over his spirit, Orlok could not achieve a final state of ecstasy, as such a conclusion had the danger of releasing more energy than intended. The doctor was aware of this, and he did his best to control himself in his passions so Orlok wouldn't be the only one to not reach his peak, even as he kept enjoying Orlok's touch.
Despite this, the two men kept on moving, touching, panting against each other until exhaustion fell over them. In the end, they lay together over Orlok's coat on the floor, Orlok leaning over von Franz's shoulder as the latter embraced his waist while they both regained their breathing looking at the ceiling.
The mortal was sweating entirely against Orlok's cold body, which should've been dry if their proximity hadn't made him get some of von Franz's sweat over him too.
"I don't feel fully sated." confessed Orlok.
"But you're alive" whispered von Franz, kissing his lip. "You'll get used to it with time."
Orlok leaned his head on Von Franz's chest, listening to his heartbeat.
This was the closest he had been to a human without maniacally indulging in the feast of flesh and blood. Without binging towards doom just to fill the ever-present void of craving that had been always gnawing at his insides.
Instead, the steady beat of the old man's heart, the feel of his hands running through the scant hair on his head or lightly stroking his cheeks with his thumb, the smell of lilacs filling his barely-breathing nostrils, built a wall around the edges of that void inside him. Not quite subsiding it, but allowing him to exist in spite of it.
He kissed his chest, and von Franz held him a little tighter affectively.