Title: A Short Reprieve

Author: Henrika

Pairing: Viktor/Kraven… sorta

Rating: PG

Summary: Viktor is in pain… oh dear, oh dear… Can Kraven help?

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters, and this story is not-for-profit.

*~*~*

Kraven carefully knocked on the door to Viktor’s bedchamber and held his breath as he waited for a reply. A pained groan sounded through the thick, oak door and then came the snapped hiss.

“What is it?!”

“My Lord, it’s Kraven. I have come to serve you…” the dark-haired Vampire called in a small, timid voice.

“Oh… Fine. Come on in, then.”

Kraven opened the door and entered Viktor’s dark chamber. The Elder lay flat on his back in his large bed, arms and legs widely apart, clad only in a white nightshirt. His face and neck were shiny with sweat, and the rapid rise and fall of his chest together with his distorted face indicated things were certainly not any better.

Viktor had been having severe back pains for over a week now – the result of a simple workout in the dojo gone wrong, and so far, nothing seemed to help. The cause was, most likely, a bulging disc in the lumbar area, but the Elder refused to leave his chambers even for a short while and had so far not let any physician close enough to examine him. Knowing that only time healed this kind of condition was bad enough. Even the most mundane, nightly activities had become downright intolerable due to the sharp, shooting pain.

When he heard the younger Vampire enter, Viktor opened his watery eyes and saw a blurry shape slowly approaching his bed. Kraven already knew what was expected of him and went to stand at the foot end of the bed. He had performed this service for almost a week and got better each time. The agonized Elder leaned his head back and tried his best to relax. The few minutes Kraven could manage a day were like a stay in heaven for Viktor.

“You know what to do, yes…?” he croaked, reaching upward to grab the headboard.

Kraven nodded confidently. “I do, my Lord.”

“Good…”

Viktor closed his eyes, which was a signal to Kraven that he could get started. Grabbing both of Viktor’s ankles, the raven-haired Vampire firmly began to pull.

A sigh of pure complacency escaped the Elder’s thin, strained lips when his entire backbone was straightened and the pain slowly but steadily ebbed away. This was the only thing that helped, the only thing that could allow him even a small reprieve from the relentless, agonizing pain. His hands firmly held on onto the iron headboard; he’d had it replaced five nights ago after tearing his wooden one during a similar session.

Kraven really pulled with all his might; seeing the effect it had on his pained Sire was worth the strain it caused his own shoulder and back-muscles. If this was all he could do for Viktor, then he had promised himself to do it properly. After seventeen and a half minutes, however, the younger Vampire was forced to stop. Beads of sweat had collected in his own brow, and he wiped them away with the back of his hand. If he tried more now, he’d make an invalid of himself, too.

“I can’t do more, not tonight…” he panted apologetically.

“I understand, Kraven… You did well…”

The compliment, although modest, made Kraven blush. “It’s always an honour to serve you, my Lord…” he murmured. “Is there anything else I can do for you now?”

“You could wipe my face… and sit with me for a short while…” Viktor requested.

“Of course.”

Kraven hurried to the Elder’s beside, sat down on the edge, and soaked a cotton rag in the decanter of water standing on the bedside table. He then used the rag to wipe the sheen of sweat from his Sire’s face and neck.

“Is that any better?” he asked compassionately.

“It is, thank you…” Viktor breathed. So far, the pain was kept at bay, but it always returned within half an hour after the “treatment” stopped. So his reprieve was short. He’d best enjoy while it lasted.

“You know, my Lord, in case being stretched really helps, there is something else we could try…” Kraven said after a while of silence.

Viktor raised an eyebrow but did not bother to speak out. His hopes were slim; nothing so far had helped except drugs that made him completely oblivious of this world. And Viktor hated being drugged. He hated it so much that the pain was almost preferable.

“Well,” Kraven began, “…you know we still have all those torture devices from the Middle Ages stored somewhere, and I was thinking that maybe… maybe we could put you in the rack?”

“The… rack?!”

“Well, yes…” Kraven’s courage sank when he saw Viktor’s face. “I mean, if it could help you…”

“I cannot believe you’re proposing this! Are you suggesting that I, with this fiery dagger in my back, crawl down into a filthy dungeon to put myself in a medieval torture instrument that we used to interrogate Lycans 500 years ago? I think not!”

“No, certainly not!” Kraven exclaimed. “I could have Soren bring it up here, to your chambers. No one would have to know. Except us, of course. And if it could help…”

Viktor considered the option for a few moments. “Well…” he muttered finally. “I suppose it’s worth a try…”

Finis