no subject

[ The wings are soft, each scale almost clothlike in texture and about the size of a fingernail. They're far sturdier than a normal-sized moth's wings, enough to be touched without any scales coming loose, but even a human could cause damage to them if they tugged and put some force behind it. It's trust that Alucard wouldn't that means he doesn't start at the contact, his movement and breathing instead sinking into a slow, easy rhythm. The possessiveness from just a moment earlier is silenced for the moment, replaced with almost sleepy contentment. ]

Fuck, 'd I leave a mirror in here?

[ Not quite enough contentment that he's not going to use 'I know you are but what am I' as flirting, but contentment nonetheless. ]