Please Don't Hurt Me

Simon checked the last window, insuring it was locked, before making his way upstairs. His mind was a million miles away, causing his body to just go through the motions. He didn't even notice the dressing room door behind him slowly creak open, revealing its menacing occupant; a man who had been lying in wait all day just for this moment.

The tailor strolled through his modest living room, passing by two worn out chairs and a repurposed table, with a tea cup on it that he had forgotten about earlier that morning. He picked it up before placing it gently in the kitchen sink alongside the bowl he had eaten his oatmeal out of. He knew he really should wash them now, but he honestly was too tired to trifle with such a thing.

"Tomorrow, tomorrow," he muttered hurriedly to himself in promise.

Finally, he stepped into the most calming room in the house; the bathroom. The porcelain tub was a sight for sore eyes as he turned the knobs, causing the room to fill up with steam as nice, hot water flowed out of the pipes. He took off his hat, hanging it on the hook nearby, before beginning to carefully peel off the rest of his suit.

"Hmm. Maybe I'll use some salt for my bath. It's been a stressful day, after all."

Simon was rarely a man who spoiled himself in any sense of the word. His lifestyle was spartan and his apartment, sparse. Though, it wasn't because the tailor was suffering from empty pocket syndrome; on the contrary. The man had enough wealth to dine in a fancy restaurant every night of the week if he so desired. He could have even sprung for a new pair of custom shoes every six months, rather than plugging the holes at the bottom of his old footwear with makeshift stoppers and glue to keep out the rain.

Such frugality was surely a left over from his life on the streets. When one had nothing, they learned to treasure everything. Even something most people took for granted, like a pair of warm socks was an item to be saved and mended over and over again, until they finally fell apart. Waste not, want not; that was one of the rules the tailor lived by.

Which was why when he spilled some of the salt cubes onto the floor, he grimaced, before bending down to pick them up. That proved to be a critical mistake, one that he would soon regret; for Simon had given his stalker an opening. A tall man swept out of the fog, before shoving and sandwiching Simon up against the lip of the tub.

"AH-!"

A hand clamped tightly over his mouth.

"Shhhh. No screaming now," the deep voice rumbled, "Do you know who I am?"

Simon's mind raced, looking for a way out of this, as he thrashed. His pins were all the way across the room! Maybe if he stomped on the other man's foot and jabbed his elbow into his nether regions, he would have enough time to get to his makeshift weapons, before-

"I'm Lord Price."

Suddenly, he froze. All fight drained out of the tailor. Instead, terror and dread began filling him as the weight of his situation crashed down on him. Slowly, his mouth was released.

"You understand don't you?" the nobleman murmured as he took to gently petting Simon's hair, "The position you're in."

"Please, don't." the tailor choked out as his lips trembled, horrified at what was happening to him.

It was very clear what this would-be stalker wanted. What he was expecting. Simon had never been the swooning romantic type, but he always wanted to lose his innocence with someone he actually cared about. Being taken like this by some enticed stranger for the thrill of it was enough to break a part of him that had never even gotten the chance to live; something Lord Price was completely calloused to. All that mattered to him was getting what he wanted.

"You're from the underclass, tailor. If you don't do exactly what I say, I will be sure to ruin this little shop of yours. I'll use my influence to make sure that no one steps over the threshold of The Ode to Maria ever again." the nobleman said as the gentle petting became a harsh grip of control, "Do I make myself clear?"

Simon bit his bottom lip hard, before nodding with tears bubbling up in his eyes.

"Good. Now, let me see you," the nobleman said as he reached for the other man's belt.

Lord Price unbuckled it, before undoing Simon's buttons, one by one, savoring the other man's fear and compliance. A quiet sob was pulled from the tailor, as his pants were pushed down to his ankles in one fell swoop, rendering him both naked and defenseless before those cold, cruel, coal black eyes.

"I doubt my father knew when he was introducing us what was going through my mind. How I imagined you just like this. Bare and bent over for my viewing pleasure. I can't wait to partake of you, Mr. Hart," Price Pattimond said as he started to make quick work of his own trousers, "You look like quite the feast."

"So do you."

Price turned his head just in time for a hand to close around his throat and lift him off of the ground. Simon could scarcely believe his eyes. It was Alabaster! He shook himself, before yanking up his pants, trying to make himself decent.

"U-Unhand me! Don't you know who I am?!"

"I know that you are a disgusting, filthy pervert. There's nothing that I really need to know other than that. Although, I'll play your game. This could be fun. Here's an even better question. Do you know who I AM?"

"Of course. You're that disgusting, low class elf who works for Mr. Hart here."

Simon looked back and forth between the two men at the revelation. Price couldn't see what was right in front of his eyes? Alabaster was still wearing that damn glamor from earlier?

"..Wrong answer."

And that's when the young nobleman's face morphed into one of pure horror. A bloody scream ripped from his throat, as he gripped the vampire's wrist and thrashed like a wounded animal caught in a trap. Alabaster merely squeezed harder to silence him, his crystal blue eyes turning cold as they bore into the other man's.

Simon took a step back. The kind, magnanimous man who had been following him around, injecting himself into his daily affairs like some jolly annoyance, was gone. Instead, this was what he remembered from that one night, so many years ago; this is what he feared.

"Now then, why don't I make a feast of you, instead, Lord Price?" Alabaster said, fangs gleaming, "Your neck looks quite appetizing, which is surprising considering the scummy man attached to it-"

"Wait!"

A set of trembling hands caught his sleeve. He peered down at Simon who looked like he had seen a ghost.

"Please," Simon begged, as he finally managed to meet Alabaster's eyes, "Please don't do it."

The vampire loosened his grip in surprise, when he saw those beautiful, green eyes he loved so much streaming with tears. The nobleman seized the chance. He wriggled like a worm off of hook, escaping the taller man's grasp, before tearing downstairs.

"You'll regret this, Simon Hart! Do you hear me?! You'll regret it!"

And that's when the realization of the storm that was coming his way hit the tailor like a typhoon. Perhaps what came next out of the usually calm man who tried to lead a quiet life was inevitable.

"You fool! Do you have any idea what you've done?!"

Alabaster blinked in shock at Simon's outburst.

"I only defended your honor in the same way you defended mine."

"And in doing so, you might have cost me everything! I defended you from a common man! YOU defended me from a noble! There's a difference!" Simon shouted, his hands balled up into quivering fists.

Alabaster, usually a well spring of patience, had his fill of the other man's outcry; especially when he felt that he wasn't deserving of it.

"I saved you," he said, crossing his arms, "Was that truly so wrong? Besides that, with how quickly you dispatched that thug earlier, something tells me that you could have gotten out of that hold, easily. Why didn't you? Why did you let him put you in such a compromising position? Where is your honor?"

Simon almost didn't believe his ears. Where was his honor?! He had worked all of his life to build The Ode to Maria! To have something when he once had nothing! To remake himself from a street urchin into a respectable gentleman! A master of his craft! All of that could be gone in the blink of an eye, if he upset the wrong people! Didn't Alabaster comprehend that?! The tailor's shaking fists finally opened up, dropping along with his head, as if all of the life had gone out of him.

"Honor?" he asked in a soft voice with a bitter smile, as he looked up to Alabaster with a glare, his tears drying, "Honor and dignity are luxuries only the well to do can afford in this world. Something you clearly don't understand."

He reached for his coat, putting it on to give himself a feeling of security and some level of dignity, before turning his back on him.

"Leave."

Simon's voice sounded utterly defeated. Alabaster placed a hand gently on the tailor's shoulder only for him to shrug it off with a soft, "Please."

The vampire opened his mouth to say something more, only to close it after a sigh and a shake of his head. He had come with good intentions. He had wanted to save the tailor from a violation most egregious. But, in doing so, he had done something awful. So, he left, his presence fading like a mist, as if he was never there. Simon slowly turned to see the empty air, before allowing himself a full break down.

He fell to his knees, crying like he hadn't since he was a child. Powerful emotions swept through him, as he bared his vulnerability to that empty room, as the water began to overflow from the tub. No matter what he might have said, he was grateful. Grateful that Alabaster Stone had saved him from the nobleman's torment. Of course he was! Still, another feeling swallowed that up entirely and had caused him to lash out. He was terrified of the retribution that Lord Price could enact on him and his little shop at any time for the humiliation and threat to his life.

Besides that, he knew that he was alone in understanding what all of this meant. Was the vampire noble really that sheltered? Did he really not understand the class dynamics at work here? Or was Alabaster's society more protective of their underclass than his own? At that last thought, he began laughing, his whole body trembling, until he felt sick with it.

'You just wondered if vampire society was kinder than your own. You've really gone insane, Simon Hart. Completely and utterly insane.'