An Itch to Scratch

Van Helsing. Gabriel/Carl. NC-17. ~2000 words. Futurefic.

Gabriel Van Helsing has a terrible itch and Carl has just the thing to cure it.

An Itch to Scratch

“So, why did you become a friar?”

Carl looked up from warming his hands at the fire. “Pardon?”

Gabriel Van Helsing sat slouched with his back against a fallen log. His wide-brimmed hat had been pulled low over his eyes, and his long legs were crossed at the ankle, stretching towards the fire so his heavy boots could dry. His right arm lay across his stomach, the fingers of his hand twitching occasionally.

“You aren’t exactly the most pious man I’ve met,” he said.

“Oh,” Carl replied. He looked back to the fire again and cocked his head to the side as he thought. “Well,” he began, and shrugged his shoulders, “I suppose it’s because the church was the only place I could freely perform my research without fear of reprimand.”

“What do you mean?”

Carl sat back on his haunches to huddle into the sodden folds of his cloak. “Not all towns are as forward thinking as, for example, London. Science is still witchery to a great deal of folk. The blessing of God makes my tinkering with stranger things acceptable, you see?”

Gabriel made a quiet sound of understanding, and their small camp eased back to its former atmosphere of silent companionship. Carl had discovered that between bursts of intense fear and hair-raising situations, being on the road primarily consisted of long bouts of riding in miserable weather and fighting off boredom. His companion might not be the most popular man working for the Order, but Carl was pleased to discover that Gabriel was entirely unworthy of the foul things said about him. He was a good man, even if mayhem followed him like a hound. And much to Carl’s relief, he was also a man who was very capable–when properly equipped, of course–at subduing said mayhem.

Having become lost in his thoughts, Carl jumped when the fire snapped and a flurry of sparks rose into the night sky. As quickly as they had spiked with fear, his nerves settled, and he took up a long stick to poke at the fire lest it die down. He spared a quick look over at Gabriel and was surprised to find Gabriel’s hat pushed back on his forehead.

“Do you believe in God?”

“Of course,” Carl replied honestly. Satisfied with the size of the fire, he turned and laid the stick across his lap. “Don’t you?”

Gabriel unfolded his legs and dug his heels in the soft earth to scoot forward. He removed his hat and used it to snuff out the flames creeping up the stick before they could reach Carl’s robes. “Most of the time,” he said. “Sometimes, I’m not so sure.” His hand twitched again, and with a grunt, he wormed his fingers under his coat to scratch at the wounds healing on his chest.

Carl caught his hand. “Stop that,” he said, brow furrowing in annoyance. “You’ll make it scar.”

“So, it’ll scar.” Gabriel shook Carl’s hand free and returned to scratching. “Damn thing itches like the devil. It’s been driving me crazy all day.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Carl spun around and began digging through his pack, excited to face a problem the likes of which he had the perfect solution for. “I have something that should stop the itching right away.”

Without even a word of complaint that the promise of relief was too good to be true, Gabriel began undoing the buttons of his shirt in earnest. “I didn’t know you were an apothecary too.”

“Yes, I dabble here and there with various salves and potions and whatnot. I can mix explosive powders, Van Helsing, a topical cream is child’s play.” Carl found a vial and peered at it, trying to read the label in the low light. “Should have put these in different shaped bottles….

“You see, I always had big ideas, but it was actually herbs which first set me on the path to entering the church. I was always fascinated with plants as a boy and the local monastery had the most extensive gard-”

“Just give me the stuff,” Gabriel said, snatching the vial and flipping the stopper out with his thumb.

“No, wait!” Carl crawled forward, trying to snatch the bottle back, but it was too late; a thick, viscous substance had oozed out onto Gabriel’s fingers and he was already busy spreading it on the bare flesh of his chest.

“That’s the wrong bottle,” Carl finished lamely, staring at the salve glistening on Gabriel’s skin.

Gabriel froze immediately. “What was it?” he asked, choosing now of all times to be wary. “Not that glycerin concoction…”

“No, not that,” Carl assured him.

“Then what?” Gabriel tossed down the empty vial and scraped ineffectually at the substance on his chest. It was as difficult to wipe away as honey, seeing as that was the prime ingredient, and what wasn’t being absorbed by his skin just smeared around.

“You’ll find out in a moment,” Carl said. He buried his hands in the sleeves of his robes and looked away.

“What. was. it.” Gabriel repeated, biting off each word. He hastily wiped his hand off on his pants and grabbed Carl’s arm.

“Most of it is, as it appears to be, honey,” Carl mumbled. “However, it has some added ingredients which makes it a- a-”

A shudder ran through Gabriel’s body and his hand tightened on Carl’s sleeve. “A what?” he prompted, his eyes narrowing.

Carl bit his lip. “A rather potent aphrodisiac…” he murmured.

“Why in the name of all things holy do you have something like that in your satchel?” Gabriel’s nostrils flared and his eyes rolled back as another shudder ran through his body.

“I like to be prepared! For any situations that might present themselves.”

Gabriel opened his mouth as if to snarl a response, but he lurched forward with a moan instead. “Give me the antidote,” he gasped.

“There is no antidote.” Carl blinked bewildered at Gabriel near fallen in his lap.

“No antidote…” Gabriel repeated, screwing his eyes shut. His fingers twisted tighter yet in Carl’s sleeve and he rested his forehead on Carl’s shoulder.

“What kind of man would want such a thing?”

“The kind of man in the middle of nowhere and about to fall victim to the effects of his own concoction.” Gabriel’s pupils were blown wide, his breath heavier with each lungful.

“But you didn’t make the-” Carl stopped mid-sentence as his brain caught up to his mouth. “Surely you don’t mean me!” Even as he said that, he found Gabriel pushing him onto his back. He squirmed to no effect, trying to inch himself backwards with his elbows, a move which Gabriel easily kept up with. “Van Helsing! I’m a monk, remember?”

“Actually,” Gabriel replied, teeth shining on a grin, “You’re a friar.”

“True. In fact, that’s a distinction I’ve pointed out myself once or twice,” Carl said, pausing briefly in his retreat. He shook his head and nearly crossed his eyes trying to focus on Gabriel’s face hovering a few inches from his own. “But, I’m also a man!”

“Funny how that wasn’t your first excuse.” Gabriel’s breath had crested into heavy panting and quickened now into shallower breaths, each washing warm against Carl’s lips as his fingers swiftly working their way under the Carl’s cassock and into his breeches.

“To be completely honest I can’t say I’ve never entertained thoughts on the subject, God forgive me, but… but… Oh my.” Carl’s arms gave out and he fell completely onto his back. His eyes fluttered closed as Gabriel palmed his cock and a long, drawn-out moan passed from his lips. “Do that again.”

Carl rolled his head back as Gabriel’s hand cupped around his balls. Long fingers pressed against the skin curving beneath them. Carl was certainly not a celibate man, as he was a firm believer that God had made the carnal acts enjoyable for a reason, and though he had known many pleasures of the flesh, this was an entirely new one. He arched his back, forgetting completely the discomfort of the assorted pebbles on the ground as all his attention focused on the hand between his legs. The very skillful hand rubbing little circles down his perineum and below to inflame passions in him he hardly recognized. He spread his legs wider, inviting more, body alternately clenching and loosening as if to beg for Gabriel to feel him inside as well as out.

“The aphrodisiac!” Carl cried out, the words melting into a moan as a powerful tremor ran along the length of his body to confirm his suspicions. “Some must have remained on your fingers.”

Carl gasped as the tips of those fingers brushed anew against the muscles of his anus. The friction increased and he groped blindly for his satchel; being far too late to stop, they’d need something for lubrication. Luckily his multi-purpose mineral oil was in a unique flask which his hands easily found. “Here,” he said, thrusting it into Gabriel’s hands.

Fully committed to the proceedings, and quite enjoying the warm buzz that tingled across his skin, Carl pushed his breeches down far enough that he could roll over onto his hands and knees. The ground was cool against his palms, but the air was cooler yet where his bare flesh was intimately exposed. He felt a bit helpless, and he should have been blushing, but there was little blood to spare for his face. His pulse roared in his ears, and he felt his breath coming in short gasps as the liquid fire in his veins pooled in his groin.

Gabriel made swift with slicking the oil along the length of his cock, and as he positioned himself behind Carl, Carl could not help but idly wonder if his companion had done this before.

“Once or twice,” Gabriel said, pushing forward slowly.

“Did I say that aloud?” Carl squirmed as Gabriel’s cock penetrated him as easily as if he were a woman–the potion’s doing, doubtless, but a theory that could be tested. Especially as though this was an entirely different sort of intimacy than he was accustomed to, he admitted that it was no less pleasurable in its own way.

“You did,” Gabriel said, his breath harsh and warm near Carl’s ear.

“To my amazement,” Carl said in low rush of words, “this feels exceptionally good.” Gabriel was a warm weight against his back and he writhed against the hard flesh thrust up inside him, grinding wantonly as it slid deeper until the whole of Gabriel was sheathed inside him.

Gabriel showed his agreement by taking hold of Carl’s hips and fucking him. He grunted softly as each stroke drove him deeper until at each peak, their bodies sealed together with a smack.

Carl rocked back to meet each increasingly savage thrust, his constant stream of soft whimpers and desperate moans mixing in the air with the crude slapping of flesh. His fingers dug into the earth, and he hung his head as the force of Gabriel’s hips slamming into him drove him down onto his elbows.

He came with shattering force, his body bucking as a cry of pure pleasure tore from his throat. Strength fled him and he sagged limp against his forearms, his body going slack even as Gabriel continued to move roughly within him.

Carl was just regaining his wits when he felt the pulsating spill of Gabriel’s come inside of him and in seconds Gabriel’s full weight fell heavy and panting atop of him.

When he managed to disentangle himself and roll onto his back beside Gabriel, Carl found words had deserted him and all he could manage was a very satisfied moan.

“You said it,” Gabriel panted, his bare chest heaving in the air. “That was an itch that needed scratching almost as bad.”

Eventually Carl found his tongue and turned his head to look at Gabriel. “At least now, Van Helsing, you’ll know better than to grab a bottle without waiting until I confirm the contents of it.”

An entirely unreassuring curve tugged at the corner of Gabriel’s mouth.

“Perhaps,” he said.

*

End

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