Apologise all you like. You know there’ll never be any need.

[ He traces patterns across Alucard’s hip, ornate swirling things that mean nothing but feel beautiful and delicate as his fingers trace them out. They branch outwards, downwards, ans before long Trevor’s fingertips are tucked under the waist of Alucard’s trousers. ]

...I was asleep before you, so I don’t know- You’re not- wearing anything you’d rather keep clean?

[ A crude question, awkward compared to everything that came before, but kind of an important one. ]