cryptsleeper | 20s AU Post

20s AU Post

Current Carmilla plot outline
--Post-fire, Carmilla and Mr. Peanut team up mostly to use each other. Carmilla's spent the past several months (since November, it is now February 1925) networking, and it's clear to her that Alucard's not suited for the position and that the other two are the obvious weakness. Mr Peanut needs something back, so this is perfect on her end. Mr Peanut can only imagine the joys of vampire blood in his work, and he'd like an army of vampires for his own ends.
--Shit stirring from Mr Peanut (all of March?)
--Mr Peanut also begins to sell mis Miracle Serum, which has vampire blood in it.
--Gang is very much trying to murder Mr Peanut during this.
--Start of April, vampire gets a call from one of the blood bank contacts that 3 patients have come in and are displaying some bizarre signs. Investigation yields the fact that they're in process of turning, and they've all taken the same serum.
--Additional investigation reveals O FUCK IT MR PEANUT
--Meanwhile Carmilla's been made aware of a familiar she didn't sire, so she knows something's up. Big fight with Mr. Peanut and thus Mr. Peanut is left depowered
--Gang commits a murder
--Carmilla's well sured up on her contacts now, and it's time for open rebellion (mid-April)
--In a more subtle attempt to let Alucard just step aside, she cuts the breaks on demon car and shows up to gloat/suggest he not pull a dad and go to deal with his grief quietly while she runs the city. The how he wants to do it is up to him (black widow joke goes here.) Treffy and Sypha walk in.
--1 week of straight up rebellion; feedings, no help from allies, need to do damage control instead of fight carmilla, every dracula rule is
--MEANWHILE IN GRAVITY FALLS, triangle shows Vlad what's up to try and psyche him out, somehow this finalyl snaps Vlad out of his depression and he heads home
--Just in time for Alucard and Carmilla to be tearing each other to bits in one of the bayous, it's not going well
--Vlad coming in means the king of vampires is accosted by a belmont with a pair of blessed knitting needles and a speaker with a fucking gun and he's just like what the shit happened to the world while i was gone
--Wards around the fight means that only demon car can break the wards, everyone has to pile in.
--Carmilla gets her ass kicked AND SENT TO THE JUSTICE DIMENSION

THEN THERE WERE FAERIES.
--Prior to all of this the vampire and Sypha have done a shit ton of research on how to get their Belmont back
--Sypha has also been practicing debating with dad, which leaves everyone Very Tired.
--When Trevor is actually snatched up (1 year after marriage, it takes fae effort. Taking Arn's shape fails, so it's a lot more kidnapping by force), Sypha and Alucard go into Faerie
--But they're playing this as politics, not as heroes rescuing their damsel, so that means the faeries are just "wait what now excuse u?"
--There are 3 gates and 3 trials (the particulars we're still bullshitting.) Each is asked to sacrifice 3 things. (Alucard: voice, his titles as bestowed upon by his father and his people, i forget the third; Sypha: her human form (she's a birb), fuck what were the other two)
--They enter the court at the end of the third trial. After LITERALLY ALL THE TITLES Sypha declares she Speaks for Trevor Belmont
--Claim debate over Trevor, turns out that the rules are in Sypha's favor.
--But that means debating to leave Fae without giving up what they've chosen.
--Sypha lawyers it all out, Alucard is a safety deposit and hangs out with Fae!Trevor
--In the end, safe passage out of Faerie consists of Sypha giving up her memory of the necromancer (billed as a great mage she studied under), the vampire gives up his immortality, and Trevor is replaced with Carmilla (dad was aware of this option and OK with it), but Trevor has his ability to swear taken. He now soundslike a rubber ducky when he tries
--Everyone gets home okay, except for the AU of this AU where the gang fails, but Trevor's on their doorstep like a bat out of Hell because time doesn't work right and he's been in Hell for a WHILE.

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Oh, you know. Whipping cream, or grenadine. Syrup, but that would be sticky.

[For a second or two, she watches him quietly, gauging his mood and the warmth of his smile before letting her head tip to one side, silently offering the column of her neck to him while her hand over his recedes slightly, no longer out to inhibit him from touching her.]

Ice cream, but that would be so cold. Champagne. Wine, perhaps.

Ice cream would be terrible for this environment and even worse back home. Something thicker would-- [Oh. Oh no he refuses to start a sentence like that.] Things that don't run as much would probably be better, at least to begin with.

[That champagne thought is absolutely on the table for later.

He very much can take a hint though, keenly aware that the angle Sypha has placed herself at is not an invitation but an expressed request. The hand that is on her thigh squeezes as he presses a soft kiss to where neck and shoulder meet, then lingers on that same spot with tongue.]

And now I've got you thinking about it.

[There's absolute contentment in her tone as she chuckles under her breath, relaxing and going a little more boneless in his arms as he starts to warm up to her again. Notions of sharp teeth are ultimately negligible, she muses idly, when what really matters are the moments like this, showing her precisely the attention she's craving.]

Given you ideas. You always go over the top when you're caught by an idea. S'nice.

[There's an annoyed rumble that ends up being pressed to Sypha's neck, because it is UNFAIR to call him out while he's doing this precious. It's equally rude for him to lift his head up and interrupt Sypha's descent into absolute contentment.]

You can make fun of me or I can keep at this. It is terribly rude to ask me to do one while you do the other.

[They use the word rude too much. It is a terrible catchall, and Alucard's content to be rude back to Sypha. He presses his tongue to where it was before, and then with pressure that's just enough to make it known he is there, moves it all the way up to Sypha's jaw in one smooth, steady stroke.]

W-Who said I was making — ngh —

[There was an ending to that sentence, probably, but it dissolves into a noise halfway between a moan and a purr when he starts to tease her; her eyes are half-lidded, lashes heavy, and her gaze wanders idly to the fireglow more because the flickering of the flames is easy to watch and get distracted by, easy to unfocus on yet still enjoy while Alucard works her over.]

Be nice...

[She lets her head fall a little further to the side, opening up even easier access to the curve of her cheek and jaw.]

You absolutely were. If you get to yell at Trevor and myself, fair is fair.

[The lack of ending doesn't preclude him getting a few last words in edgewise. Nor does the direction of where Sypha really wants him preclude the vampire from using his other hand to stroke her cheek. To carefully turn his head to face him, just for a few moments. Just long enough to steal a single and far too deep kiss, before he returns his attention to her neck.

Specifically, where jaw and neck meet, and there's a kiss there to match the intensity of the last.]

I think this is nice, hm?

[You wanted bullying the Speaker, right Sypha?]

I don't yell...

[Her sentences are growing more and more heavily accented by the second, the influence thickening over lilt and cadence the more he distracts her. It shows, too, in the way there isn't even the slightest hint of resistance when he tries to guide her to turn her head; she goes with him willingly, like putty in his hands, and sighs happily against his mouth.]

Mm. The couch fort adds a certain something to it, I think.

Perhaps.

[Alucard's rude enough to pause this, as he's realized something important.]

From the roominess, it was also absolutely built for three.

[So this is possibly jumping the gun. A thing to annoy the vampire and appropriately snug place to make out don't have to be separate at all.

Revelation over. The hand on Sypha's cheek slides down, now cradling the other side of her neck. His hands are much warmer, thanks to her simply being in his arms, and his thumb resting over the pulse point on that side probably counts as rude as well.

The rest of Alucard is occupied with making sure that wonderful boneless feeling Sypha is not only feeling but making known in her words continues. His hair brushes against her neck as his mouth moves downward, although there's no speed. He picks a spot and the kiss he presses to it lingers. Alternates with a brief lick, then another kiss just as intense as the last. Repeat as he travels back down, aware that there's going to be fabric in the way if he wishes to extend to her shoulder.]

[She probably had a response to something about the room for three, but that all is hastily forgotten when Alucard's hand moves to fit against the column of her neck; for such a subtle little movement, it draws an audible whine out of Sypha, as it appears even she is caught off-guard by just how emphatically that particular motion strikes her fancy.]

He's missing out...

[She all but breathes it, melting from the attention on her neck, her heart rate increasing the slightest fraction as her breathing turns heavy and shuddery on every inhale.]

You are very...so very good at that...

[There's been moments like this before. Those wonderful whines, how breath gets heavier. But it has been a while, and the vampire has to keep himself together in order to not simply stop and stare down at the wonderful mess Sypha is starting to become.

The hand on her neck stays right where it is. Every little change in her pulse is something he can feel now (he'd feel it through other means too, this is simply the most obvious), and he's rude enough to press onward.]

You asked it of me. What else can I do but provide?

[It's a question he punctuates by using his teeth to move more fabric away from Sypha's shoulder. More to kiss. More to linger on. More to spoil with affection, and while there's no teeth involved, Alucard is careful as he experiments with the threat of them. It's done closer to Sypha's shoulder, where there's more bone and no veins that would be at risk. Just a long kiss that he leans far too into. Just to see what happens.]

Edited 2019-02-14 02:52 (UTC)

[She'd asked for this, it's entirely true. She'd named it specifically, the danger, the thrill of trusting him so utterly as to know his fangs are there yet to be equally certain that they'll never once touch her. She can almost, almost feel them as he delicately takes hold of the fabric of her nightgown, tugging at the wide collar until it slips to one side and tumbles off her shoulder like something straight out of a romance novella, and the noise she makes is a little more strangled now, urgent with the competing desires to squirm and to melt into a puddle in his utterly capable hands.]

You are a tease.

[It's a miracle she made it to four words at all; her capacity for them is currently sitting closer to "none".]

That's the point, isn't it?

[He shouldn't sound smug about this. But he does, at least for a moment, because this is going to stop being teasing very soon. Sypha's power is through speech after all, and even when she's just making her pleasure known in all her little vocalizations. Up until now, Alucard's focus has been on Sypha so much that he's ignored any reactions from himself.

Warmth is always the big one, isn't it? That and the weight of his own body, Alucard feels how heavy the hand he has on Sypha's thigh as he moves it carefully. Stroking down there would be a terrible and teasing thing, so it moves downwards instead.

Then up, because the only reason it bothered to move down at all was to gather up some of the nightgown's fabric and ensure that it's out of the way.

He sighs her name as he does so, picking up his head.]

What would you have me do then, if not tease?

Ngh...ah, are we...waiting for Trevor, or...

[She points her toes, stretching her legs out and squirming just a little at the feeling of the soft fabric whispering over her skin.]

Or are you just...

[Going to keep her for himself, a little, presumably.]

Will you be able to wait?

[The question's asked softly, and to fill in the moments, Alucard's lips move down Sypha's shoulder, beginning to linger on her back. He'd like for the answer to be genuine, which means slowing down for just a moment.

(He is not slowing down at all. He is still moving the fabric of the garment, hand resting halfway up her thigh now, everything else exposed.)]

I'd like for him to return and see you in such a state.

Oh.

[Now that's quite the mental image, isn't it? Not just the thought of Alucard doing this to her, but the thought of him doing it deliberately, making art of her as he unravels her with lips and hands, a display to be looked at and admired. A gift for Trevor, perhaps, that in practice would be a gift for all of them.

He'll feel her shiver, she's certain of that.]

And — once he's seen me...then, ah, then what will you do with me...?

If I tell you, you're not going to last long at all.

[He picks his head up, shifting so his chin rests on the shoulder he was kissing only moments ago. The hand that had been resting on Sypha's middle, the one not preoccupied with fabric and settling down right where thigh and hip meet and threatening fingers but never moving, begins to migrate up. There's fabric in the way of Sypha's breasts, but that makes everything far better so far as the moment goes. Everything is about what might happen in another moment or two, the anticipation.

That shiver means everything. Alucard realizes there's another way for him to settle and wait for Sypha to make a decision, and so he shifts his head just enough so that his cheek is pressed lightly against Sypha's neck. Hair spills down and over, brushing against bared skin, smelling of the hair oil he's been experimenting with lately, all cedarwood and soft ambers.]

Your decision, Sypha. He may make it for you instead.

[The anticipation is thrilling, and it's certainly one of the key influences that are making her heartbeat race, her breath shudder, her pulse thunder in her veins. But equally so is the level of implicit possessiveness Alucard is showing — touching her because he wants to, because he knows he can, doing as he pleases with her because it's a liberty he knows he has the right to exercise. It's the way he moves with purpose, with a plan in his mind, that has her eyes falling closed and her head falling back as if baring her throat, unfocused and dizzy and acutely aware of the pressure and warmth of each and every one of his fingers.]

My...my decision...?

[She's hypersensitive; she's tactile in the extreme, every touch magnified, the brush of his hair, the nudge of his cheek. His scent seems like incense, heady and rich, and most of all distracting.]

What decision?

Waiting for Trevor?

[The vampire senses that this is absolutely not a wait for Trevor time. That's all right, there will absolutely be other opportunities for this. Perhaps for this exact scenario, contrast of a nightgown that Alucard suspects was for this exact conversation against the far too fuzzy cableknit sweater and trousers he has on. Absolutely her this far gone, Sypha's nightclothes angled to fall off of her every which way, the sheer of the arms catching the firelight just so.

But he isn't moving. Going still is perfectly deliberate, trying to bully Sypha into focusing for just a moment longer. It's also an exercise in selfishness, as Alucard's attention has been so focused on Sypha that the chance to admire her in this state has eclipsed him entirely.

The fire is what makes it, in the end. Shadows playing across the two of them, the fort's construction helping to intensify the shifts between light and dark. She's always beautiful, always will be, but nearly undone by the firelight is a new way to see Sypha and Alucard could stand to get used to it.]

Or we'll move to bed. We're bound to break this entire fort if we stay in it.

I want to stay by the fire.

[It's not an answer to his question, not exactly, but as enticing a thought as it is, to be carried off to bed in her vampire's arms, there's something about the warmth and the glow of the fire that adds an element of significance to this moment they're sharing. Hearthfire, he'd called her, on another night similar to this, and she likes the way the light and shadow plays over them as he covets her like a man who'd stolen her from the hearth of the gods.]

Please...

All right.

[He says it softly, and for a moment, Alucard's eyes go up. There's a consideration of clearance, and it's just a blanket that's over them both. His head has an inch or two before it would be a problem, and Sypha's tiny. He knows he'll turn her around in another moment or two, make it so she can just wrap around him entirely, let him see her entirely illuminated by the glow of the hearth.

It's a hell of a thought, one that finally causes Alucard to shudder for the sheer delight of it.

She's not turned around yet though, not by a long shot. Instead the hand that has occupied the liminal space between hip and thigh moves in, brushing against the close outerfold. Alucard would be a liar if he said he wasn't curious how Sypha's current state translated below her waist.]

[The rasp of her breath is something beautiful in its own right; the soft keening noise that escapes her lips when his fingers move is yet another. She squirms for him, robbed of words and the capacity to say them, and thus left to express herself by the language of her body alone.

It's a funny reversal, almost. She's compared him to a foreign language before, the need to read his nuance to pick up all the things he can't find words to say. Now here they are, and he's the one still possessed of his words, and she's the one left acting in the bare hopes that she'll still somehow be understood.

But it's all there, for a scholar who knows her well enough to interpret the signs like constellations in the night sky. The flush of her cheeks, the tremor in her arms. The shiver down her skin. The slick heat near his fingertips.

For the second time tonight, she fits her arms along the tops of his, her breath so ragged it's audible as she squeezes the arm that's holding her in place, grateful for the anchor it provides.]

[Perhaps it was ridiculous to entertain even the thought of waiting. With even just the most careful, cursory brush of his fingertips over Sypha, it's clear she is too far gone. All of that just from a little time spent showering her neck with the affection Alucard usually presses elsewhere. He dreads to think what adding Sypha's other suggestions (chocolate, champagne, any of it) might do.

Those are thoughts to dwell on later. Alucard's focus remains on the present, in feeling far too warm arms resting over top of his, in noting that Sypha's breath is already quick. He'd be a liar if he said he didn't want to indulge himself in this too, but to remove even just one of his hands seems cruel.

So Alucard waits a little while more. The hand at her middle and creeping up to Sypha's breast remains as it is, keeping Sypha anchored as much as it's possible to anchor her at this point. Tether is perhaps the better word, keeping her grounded just enough so she isn't flying away entirely.

This all began because of attention to her neck, so that is where Alucard's mouth returns to. What was before more controlled and precise is replaced with something a little wilder. Wanting, wanting to cover every inch of that skin with his affection all at once, and knowing it's impossible. It's as wanting as the hand stroking at her folds, although that one seems to have slightly more control in it.

At some point, it's too much. At some point he has to withdraw his hands, remove trousers, take care of at least that much. Then in a movement that's too fast and reveals that the vampire is getting overwhelmed too, Sypha is turned around so she can face him. He's been looking at her from the same few angles for far too long now.

She looks perfect like this. Not just for being so beautifully undone, but for the way the fire makes it look like there's halo behind her. The kind in medieval paintings, the kind in iconography. It suits her, glowing like this.

The fort, unsurprisingly, does not survive. Feet knock over the support cushions causing them to fall, a blanket ends up on top of the both of them just as Alucard finishes, and yet all of it seems perfectly timed because it means there's nothing but softness around them both to rest on when they're finished and oversensitive and still wrapped up in each other's arms. Alucard drags the blanket over so it can keep away oncoming chills. (They're both so, so warm.)

Words aren't happening. What does happen is a long and happy sigh, and okay, it sounds like her name.]

[For that brief and fleeting window of time, it's as though they're back in the townhouse all over again, back when all of this first started, before the regency had even found its wings and long before anyone knew her as Alucard's witch, much less as his Speaker and sword. It's the way that it was almost before the train heading westward, even — when time was so precious and they stole every minute of it that they could, wrapped up in each other and left breathless from the passion they'd shared.

In the end, she winds up draped over him like the blanket he tucks around them both, still with a light sheen of sweat clinging to her skin, her nightgown rumpled and sticky but still technically on in a way that leaves her feeling disheveled and ravished and oddly beautiful. She turns her cheek to keep his loose hair from sticking to it, avoiding a mouthful of golden strands as the heady warmth of afterglow starts to settle into her limbs.]

So.

[She yawns deeply, a jaw-cracking thing before settling in again and rubbing her cheek against his chest where she's decided to rest it.]

That was fun.

Should we attempt to rebuild the fort?

[Alucard is unsure of how much time has elapses between when this began and the point they are now. It doesn't escape him that his trousers are still mostly on and that his sweater is...he's lost it, that much is clear now, but the cold isn't a problem. These moments are one of the few times that he runs hot, and there's a fire, and Sypha is a blanket all on her own. A warm weight with a different texture than normal, insofar as the fabric of her nightgown mixed with sweat is a texture.

He's careful to move a few strands of her hair out from underneath the place she's settled. Things are sweaty enough without help, and the hair should't be there anyway. It should join the rest of copper red illuminated by fire.]

You are also going to need to learn to last if you want me to do that again.

You have no right to criticize.

[She sounds as though she is exactly 0% offended by the implication of criticism when she points this out, however, given the way that she all but purrs at the touch of his fingers working her hair out of the way, and half of her sentences are soft at the edges from mumbling.]

If you would do it more often, perhaps I would be better at holding out.

20s AU Post

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