A/N: This works with pretty much any Death other than the glittering Hungarian version. Much as I love that take on the character, I just don't see him getting a lot of nookie. Anyway…

VERY GRAPHIC SLASH.

Did Rudolf meet Death at all between the ages of like 8 and 30? Did Rudolf and Death ever get it on? I say yes on both counts. Here we go. Rudolf is 16… or whatever the age of consent happens to be under the laws of whatever place you're reading this from ;o)

"Well." There was a cool hand on his brow, and then his fever – the fever that couldn't be checked with half a dozen ice baths – suddenly ceased to torture him.

Rudolf opened his eyes.

The moment he saw his visitor he wondered how on earth he could have failed to guess it in advance. "No," he begged. "No, not you, please…"

"My dearest little friend, you wound me," Death teased. He crawled up onto the bed and stretched out beside the sick prince, not quite touching him. "You were always happy to see me before."

"Before, I didn't know any better," Rudolf said. "And besides you were only visiting. You hadn't come to… to claim me."

"But you think I've come to claim you now."

"Haven't you? I'm… Look at me! I'm sick."

"Mm. You were often sick as a child," Death pointed out. He began to peel the sweat-soaked hair off Rudolf's forehead, piece by piece. "Probably because you spent so many hours snuggling in my arms. But you're right… you are very ill this time…" The boy was shaking his head, pleading wordlessly, tears leaking from his eyes. Death wiped his cheeks and then licked the salt off his fingers. "Rudolf, Rudolf," he said, noting the way he shuddered at being addressed. "Don't you think I could make it good for you?"

Rudolf grabbed him by the wrists and peeled his hands away. "You were always kind to me before," he said. "Please don't torture me now. Just…"

"Just do it?" Death guessed, grinning. "Is that really what you want? Because I won't take you unless you're ready, child, you have my word."

"Ready?!"

"Don't scoff at me, I meant it," he insisted. "Trust me. Open your mouth."

"But… isn't it your kiss that-…"

"Yes. But do as I tell you." When Rudolf's lips finally parted, he leaned very close and whispered: "Now close your eyes. Shhh, good boy… Don't be afraid." A low laugh, and then he planted a kiss on Rudolf's forehead… his cheek… his chin… that spot where a mustache had just begun to grow... He flicked his tongue out, touched the very tip of it to Rudolf's lip and savored the boy's terrified gasp. "I told you not to be afraid," he said. "It could be good with me, do you see?"

Rudolf's cheeks had gone pinker than just the fever would explain. He opened his eyes, swallowed. "I… I don't know what to do."

"Well, you think about it," Death invited against his earlobe. "And you tell me when you've decided what you want." He wriggled one arm underneath Rudolf's head, and with his free hand began tracing designs lightly over the boy's bare chest.

Rudolf sucked his breath in. When Death's sleeve brushed over his nipple, accidentally it seemed, he suddenly realized that he was reacting to all of this in a very decidedly male fashion… and then when Death smirked at him he knew it hadn't gone unnoticed. And wasn't coming as a surprise, either. "Wait – are you trying…" He couldn't even ask the question.

Death rolled over on top of him, heavy and delightfully cold. "Yes." And then he forestalled any further conversation by dipping his head and nudging Rudolf's chin up out of the way to expose his throat.

For only a moment, it was terrifying to lie there and let Death nip at his jugular. But after a few kisses he no longer noticed any fear; he was too busy squirming and feeling around for something to grab hold of.

He found Death's waist, the back of Death's neck, and hugged him close while his body arched up all on its own.

Death grinned down at him and thrust right back. Once he'd established a rhythm for their hips – slow and torturous – he pried the prince's hands off and held them to the bed. Rudolf fought him hard, desperate for some way to force more, and eventually surged up with the mindless intention of stealing a kiss.

Death reared back in time, averting his face so that all Rudolf got was a mouthful of hair. "Careful," he chuckled. "That will end the fun right there – and we've just started."

"Please – I need…"

"You have no idea what you need. Open your mouth again." This time Rudolf obeyed eagerly, panting. Still rubbing against him, still holding him down, Death leaned forwards over the open mouth, and opened his own.

Rudolf watched as a drop of saliva collected slowly on the tip of Death's tongue, saw it reflect the light into a thousand rainbows as it fell. If he hadn't already been lying down, he would have collapsed.

"That's what I taste like. Tell me if you like it."

Rudolf couldn't speak. He only stared up, dazed, so compliant all of a sudden that Death let go of his wrists and cupped his jaw instead.

When he came back to himself, any lingering hesitation was gone and he felt so bold and reckless he hardly knew himself. He took Death's hand and dragged it down, wedging it between their bodies. "Why don't you find out what I taste like," he said. "Tell me if you like it."

Death laughed at him, approving, and curled his fingers of his own accord. "You're a very bossy little thing, giving orders to me." But he climbed off, and deftly unbuttoned Rudolf's pants almost without looking. "Is this what you wanted?"

He bent his head and all of a sudden Rudolf was engulfed in a pleasure beyond any he'd ever known. The dozen or so kitchen maids and naughty princesses who had touched him… all their attentions combined had not approached this. Death's mouth was cool, but nevertheless wet and welcoming. His sucking was firm, his stroking sure, his technique perfect. And best yet, every now and then he would stop to peek back at Rudolf with some teasing little comment, or to drop sweet wet kisses on his stomach or thighs.

It was the best thing Rudolf had felt, ever, and he soon found himself craving more of it all.

He contorted his body so that he could reach to Death's hip. "May I?" he asked, plucking at his waistband.

"May you?"

Sorely lacking in coordination at the moment, Rudolf didn't even attempt to unbutton him and instead just rubbed and squeezed through the clothes.

Death's groan was muffled, because his mouth was full.

"Please – more," Rudolf said, speeding up himself. "Deeper, yes. Deeper." He felt Death take him down all the way, felt face meet pelvis, and held it there for a moment by a handful of silky blond hair.

When Death pulled back, licking his lips, Rudolf lost it completely. "No- it's, no you can't stop. I want more, I want you, please… kiss me, take me, make me yours." He tried to explain himself more coherently. "I've never felt close to anyone, no one, no one as much as you. You know I've always known it. I love you. And I'm not afraid anymore... please, I want to belong to you."

As he spoke he could feel Death growing even harder under his hand, but when he reached for a kiss, again he was refused. "Please?" he repeated, trying vainly to bring their faces together. "I want you so much." When that didn't work Rudolf tried something else: he tackled, crushing Death to the mattress with all his weight and leaning down to take a kiss by force.

Death turned his head away, thrashing wildly to reverse their position again. Rudolf of course fought back, and they wrestled full-out for a while. Eventually Death got the upper hand, landing on top and covering Rudolf's grabby mouth with his palm.

"No, Rudolf."

Rudolf still didn't give up; craning his neck, he managed to catch Death's finger between his teeth. He sucked, worshipping it with his lips and tongue, while Death watched breathlessly and began to melt against him…

But then: "No!"

And the next thing Rudolf knew he was face down on the mattress, feet on the floor, bent over in a position whose purpose even a sixteen-year-old virgin could not fail to understand. "You want me to take you, you want to belong to me, is that what you want!" Death hissed into his ear, grinding savagely against him.

Far from frightening him as Death obviously intended, the prospect was so arousing it hurt. "I want you," he repeated. "Anything – everything you'll give me. Everything you'll take." Death growled with frustration (several kinds) and Rudolf pressed, "You told me not to be afraid. Now I'm not."

"So I see." He was laughing, now. "All right, Rudolf my dear… this is what it is to belong to me:"

That was all the warning there was before Death split him wide open. It was one low grunt, one powerful shove with all his weight and strength behind it, and huge and hard and freezing he was all the way inside.

And Rudolf was screaming, screaming with pain and shock, a loud rasping cry that gave way to shorter, higher-pitched squeals when he ran out of air and had to start over.

Death held onto him, laughing into his ear. "You should be more careful what you ask for. Shh," he added. "It's all right – have you changed your mind?"

With effort Rudolf quieted himself, and shook his head through his tears. "No! No I want you, like this, it's just I didn't… oh it hurts. So much."

"Mm. It often does." Death wrapped both arms around him, hugging him tight and sucking gently on his neck. "But it will get better soon… especially if you trust me. Just breathe, shh, and let me take you. Mm-hmm. Good boy." As Rudolf gradually relaxed around him, he reached down and easily stroked the boy back into a state of raging need. "I'm so deep inside you, Rudolf," he purred. "Can you feel it?"

A nod, a squeak.

Death laughed softly. "That's good. Tell me when it's all right for me to move." Another nod. When Death eased carefully out and in again, Rudolf made high helpless noises in the back of his throat that didn't sound like distress.

In fact, every now and then he managed to get words out along with his whimpers, and they were things like yes and please and yours. And, eventually, more. So Death held him firmly and moved harder, harder still, hissing his name.

"Rudolf, ah Rudolf that's good."

"Yes, like that, give me everything," Rudolf begged. It burned and his eyes were tearing again but he didn't care. No one had ever been this close to him before; this was the antidote to all loneliness in the world and he wanted to experience it to its very fullest. "Ow, please yes, I love you," he babbled as he was kissed, squeezed tight, touched everywhere inside and out.

Soon Death hauled them both into a standing position. "Then why don't you give me everything," he said. He guided Rudolf's hands down, and gentled his thrusts. "Touch yourself. For me."

Rudolf obeyed, and in record time was gasping There oh please…

Death lent a hand at the last second. When he felt the life spurt out between his fingers, it was so good that he bit Rudolf hard and spilled inside him right then and there.

He paused a moment to breathe, then pulled out with one quick efficient motion. Rudolf collapsed at once to the floor.

Death stared down for a bit, bemused, as he buttoned himself back up again. When he was fully dressed and his hair corrected and Rudolf still hadn't moved, he sighed and stooped to pick him up. He carried him to the bed and sat down, cradling him silently for a good long while. Finally he asked, "Are you all right?"

He looked graver than he had most of the evening, and now it was Rudolf's turn to smile. "I think so. I want to sleep."

Death smoothed his hair affectionately. "You don't still crave a kiss, do you?" Rudolf shook his head. "Good. Then I will leave you, for now." He set him down and stood to go.

Rudolf swallowed. "Um."

"Yes?"

His eyes were glued to Death's feet as he said it: "I'm sorry I was difficult. The next time you tell me that… you know, that it's… good, with you… I'll believe you."

The End.

Sorry, I can't help it. Der Tod is hot. If there was a Pornwriters Anonymous group, I'd be going to daily meetings. (And falling off the wagon basically every day anyhow…)

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