[It's a comfortable silence, the kind of thing that comes easy after so much time spent together. There's no need to fill the space with words - there can be joy found in quiet and in simply being.
Alucard focuses his own eyes with the way colors move across the space they're in, how the light softens then intensifies them with the change of the sun's pattern. He doesn't expect it to set fully, but the sky is ablaze above them and it makes everything that much more intense.
But no. There are stars, and Alucard's pulled onto his back so he can look too.
Except it isn't just stars. There's galaxies he can pick out with his much too good eye sight, he can make out one or two of the planets, and everything is perfect. The scent of lilac is still heavy in the air, and all that Alucard does in terms of movement is bring Trevor's hand up to his mouth and gently brush his lips over the knuckles.]
[ It's so ridiculously saccarine a gesture that he has to bury his face against Alucard's shoulder.
From down here, there's evidence visible that Sypha has been here. Books, mostly. The first thing she did when she learned that she'd made a medicine for lucid dreaming was to teach herself to read in her sleep. Not even Trevor's sisters are entirely sure how that works - it should be impossible to learn new information in dreams - but if anyone was going to manage it it would be Sypha. A thick blue woolen cloak too small for either of them hangs from one of the branches. ]
You deserve perfect. [ There are different words on the tip of his tongue. 'You could have it'. But he couldn't He can't come here in waking, and if he could he wouldn't want to be trapped. Instead he just sighs again, nuzzing against Alucard's shoulder. ] You both do.
[Alucard only huffs in absolute happiness at the gesture. Trevor's face is so impossibly warm against his cool skin, and with the evening comes the chill of night breezes. It's an excuse to draw closer together.
He doesn't miss the books, or the cloak that's clearly meant for Speakers going by color alone. It's nice, knowing that he isn't the first one to step foot here. That Trevor's romanced Sypha many times over in this space, when she wasn't just being a nerd.]
We already have it. [Oh that's over the top mushy, even for him.] The way everything has come together meets the definition, Trevor Belmont.
[ Even here, those spells remain in Alucard, sealed behind that long, ugly scar. Even here, one side of his face is split though by iron, one eye half-blind with it. They're far from perfect, not like they were before. ]
I suppose we do.
[ The chill aside, it's warmer here than it would be in the waking world. Warm and cold each have their benefits, but warm seemed better this time. There will be a time for thick cloaks and blankets and hot tea to warm the hands. Now is a time for lying beneath stars and chills gentle enough to mostly ignore (but just enough to move closer) if clothes come out of order.
He raises the hand that holds Alucard's, gesturing upward and not letting go, so that they have to gesture toward the sky together. ]
It's real, the sky. Mostly. Real as anything is here. [ Which is to say, not at all. Because it's a dream. But in the version of this place that exists somewhere- He knows what he means. ] The land is fairy-made, and the cage is me-made. But we couldn't make something like that. Couldn't even imagine it.
[Aluacrd only nods, because he knows he's right. Save for...save for the Collector, he wouldn't have had things any other way, his scar and the near heartache it caused included. It takes true effort to destroy trust now, and they all know it.
Happily, he shifts in Trevor's arms. The weather is ideal, as the waking world is still full of winter chill and thick furs to be bundled up in. Which he adores, but the late spring feel of here is lovely to indulge in.
As almost a matter of course, Alucard's own hand begins to move, outlining constellations that he can pick out. Even if the sky is only Mostly Real.]
Mmmm, so it's just the background that's someone else's. I don't think I've ever seen things so clearly without the help of a telescope.
That might be a dream thing. You know it's all there, so you can see it. Or- the sky's there, but all the dust and clouds and such isn't. I don't really know.
[ He lets Alucard guide their joined hands, tracing over constellations. It's perfect, the kind of thing that they should do more often in reality, now he's finally started to recover. Alucard with all the constellations taught in books and theories about blazing storms of gas, Sypha with all the ones that mothers whisper to children and stories about wishes and sailors finding their way. Him with the secret names the his kind use to address the stars and the knowledge that they are seeing thousands of years into the past, that some of those stars are long dead.
It would be nice, even if what he can offer is a little sad. He can listen to the other two talking. He could listen to it for a lifetime and not grow bored. Slowly, he releases the arm that's around Alucard and moves it downwards. Enough to slip a hand under his shirt. He doesn't go further than that, just resting his hand there against his side, fingers stoking. ]
[Alucard murmurs softly the name of each constellation as he goes. Sometimes he explains what the shape is, Orion, one of the Greek heroes, but he never veers into a history lesson or anything else.
This is all he wants. He wants it in the waking world, the three of them curled up around Sypha while Alucard talks about the winter's night sky. They can do that now.
Alucard sighs as Trevor slips the hand under his shirt. Going beyond that would be nice, but he doesn't need it. There's only one thing he requires now:]
[ He could rearrange them. They wouldn't be looking at the stars anymore (as if he hasn't been looking at Alucard instead the whole time) but he could do it.
Or he could be a shit.
He leans forward over Alucard's shoulder as far as his neck will allow. He's close enough to his face that if he blinks his eyelashes will brush against skin, but the angle is still absolutely terrible. He smirks, kissing Alucard's cheek. ]
[It's a half whine, half laugh that comes out. It's all impossibly, impossibly smitten, and he tries to shift so he can kiss the Belmont better. This is only a slightly better angle, but he manages to catch the very corner of Trevor's mouth and that counts for something.]
[ Eventually he takes pity on Alucard, freeing their hands from each others so that he can shift out from under him, lowering him onto the cushions below and lying next to him on his side. One hand rests near Alucard's cheek, fingertips stroking against it, positioned so that if he turns onto his side his cheek will be cupped in it. The other takes one of the fallen lilacs from the ground, tucking it behind his ear before reaching over him to return to his side, stroking up and down again. ]
[Alucard's practically a dead weight when Trevor starts to shift them around. He's so happy to allow it, and even happier to be put down into the pile of cushions.
They're settled soon enough, and once Trevor lies back down, Alucard's hand is on his hip, resting there. It's feather light, no possessiveness as there might be normally. He's in no mood for that, only for the tenderness.
When Trevor tucks the lilac back into his hair, Alucard actually blushes. He then takes his other hand and runs it through Trevor's hair.]
Yes.
[He leans his cheek against Trevor's other hand, wanting to lean against that palm. To be held all too tenderly.]
[Of course he's sentimental. The teasing just gets a low, warm laugh, one that ends with a soft kiss pressed against Trevor's thumb.]
Neither do I.
[He should kiss Trevor here. Now. It's the right moment for it, after all. But all Alucard wants to do is lie and luxuriate in the affection. He's practically stupid with it right now.]
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. ]
[Alucard's own hand responds by winding strands of Trevor's hair around his fingers, the letting go. The action repeats with a pleasant idleness, the joy of simply having the texture of Trevor's hair under his hands.
This is so much. He'd feel overwhelmed if this wasn't in dreams.
His feet nudge against Trevor's. Just to be there.]
[ When Alucard’s feet nudge his own, he twines their legs together and brings one thigh up between his legs. When he moves it, there’s not enough friction to really describe it as grinding against Alucard, more just stroking languidly. They have time, and he doesn’t really have any sort of end goal in mind. Just wants to keep touching. ]
[They really do have all the time in the world don't they?
Alucard smiles softly as Trevor rearranges their legs, and he inches just a little bit closer. It feels good, Trevor's warm body against his cooler skin. They're a study in contrasts, they've always been, and it has never felt so right as it does now.
Moving closer means that Alucard's hair fans out behind him, creating a train of golden tresses dotted with flowers. It probably looks better freom above, a flowing river in the moonlight.
His breath is slow and steady, the hand that rests on Trevor's hip idly moving up Trevor's side. There's a pause, then a soft laugh.]
Moon's making it look like there's a silver halo around your head.
[ He nudges Alucard's arm with his elbow to move the hand back a little, to the laces of his shirt. Shirts are a difficult thing when wings are involved, preventing them from being worn in the usual way. More so when antlers are also involved, meaning the kind that pulls over the head are also not really usable. The ones Trevor wears fasten at the back with buttons or laces above and below the wings.
He could remove it himself rather than silently demanding Alucard do it, but he has better things to do right now. Like moving his mouth downward, lips and stubble grazing over Alucard's pulse. ]
Lucky it's so easy to get some colour into your face.
[ As if to demonstrate and without any other warning, he bites with pressure just bordering on bruising. ]
[Sypha's remarked on it before, how Alucard looks like he's made of alabaster or marble when the moon is shining it's brightest overhead. It suits him, given that his wolf form might as well be made of moon light, but it's a much more beautiful effect on Trevor. It brings out more of his delicate features, and that's something Alucard rarely focuses on.
He doesn't mind being nudged into work. Something like this can become one sided in focus much too easily, and with the laces where they are, there's another advantage. As Alucard carefully undoes the first set of laces, the ones that rest right above the wings, his fingers glance over other parts of Trevor's back. His spine is the focus, but there's no pressure to any of those touches. Not yet.]
The second set of strings are caught in Alucard's fingers as Trevor grazes all the very best parts of him over Alucard's pulse. That garners a short breath that becomes a sharper one of delight as Trevor bites down. Alucard's fingers jut out just a little from the sudden sensation, and more importantly, that means there's no more laces holding Trevor's shirt in place.
His fingers stroke up Trevor's spine, just because fair is fair.]
[ He shudders at the contact before leaning into it, and the movement slides the sides of his shirt forward a little. They’re held in place by gravity and very little else now, and the way the cloth shifts when he moves to leave soothing little kisses around where he’s just bitten gives every indication that gravity might not be enough for long. ]
Bring you here for real, one day. Not to keep. Just to visit.
[Alucard's careful as he uses one of his hands to tug the fabric away from Trevor's chest more. There isn't quite enough clearance for it to be tossed aside entirely yet, but the message is doubtlessly clear. He's never hidden the fact that one of his favorite places to rest his head is Trevor's chest.
Each soothing smooch gets a happy noise in response, and Alucard doesn't hesitate to try and tangle their feet together even more.]
[ The shirt finally gives up, sliding over Trevor’s side to fall to the ground at his front, defeated. He slides his hand upward, pushing Alucard’s own shirt up a little. But there’s no hurry. If there was, it isn’t as if the shirt is real, no harm would come from ripping it off. They can take their time, savour this, working in little strokes and nudges. ]
All of us. In winter, maybe. Furs and hot wine and colours in the sky.
[ His lips move back to Alucard’s, kissing perhaps a little more possessively than is really necessary. ]
Shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Right now’s perfect.
[It sounds perfect. Not that right now isn't perfect either, with Trevor's front finally freed from fabric. Alucard's left hand traces up his back, over Trevor's shoulder, then down to the front, resting over Trevor's heart. The movement in and of itself? That is joy. But the kiss, oh.
He'd be terrified at any other point. Now, the sense of mine nearly makes him swoon like a maiden, lips parting ever so slightly if Trevor wants to make that possessive statement further in.]
Mmmm. Do I need to be particularly careful with your wings in this place?
[ He doesn’t, not yet, but the invitation is noted. Instead he pulls back to let Alucard speak and to answer. ]
Not here. [ To demonstrate, or maybe just because he can, he extends a wing to cover Alucard. It’s been a long time since he was able to do that. He misses it. ] Just don’t try to rip ‘em out, or you’ll wake me up.
[One of the side effects of this place? That Alucard's skin keeps it's bruises. On his neck is a wonderful red mark in the shape of Trevor's bites, blossoming into something that might actually stick.
There's an instinct to brush Trevor's wings with his fingertips like this, and so Alucard does. The texture of them never gets old. It never will.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Alucard focuses his own eyes with the way colors move across the space they're in, how the light softens then intensifies them with the change of the sun's pattern. He doesn't expect it to set fully, but the sky is ablaze above them and it makes everything that much more intense.
But no. There are stars, and Alucard's pulled onto his back so he can look too.
Except it isn't just stars. There's galaxies he can pick out with his much too good eye sight, he can make out one or two of the planets, and everything is perfect. The scent of lilac is still heavy in the air, and all that Alucard does in terms of movement is bring Trevor's hand up to his mouth and gently brush his lips over the knuckles.]
This is perfect.
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From down here, there's evidence visible that Sypha has been here. Books, mostly. The first thing she did when she learned that she'd made a medicine for lucid dreaming was to teach herself to read in her sleep. Not even Trevor's sisters are entirely sure how that works - it should be impossible to learn new information in dreams - but if anyone was going to manage it it would be Sypha. A thick blue woolen cloak too small for either of them hangs from one of the branches. ]
You deserve perfect. [ There are different words on the tip of his tongue. 'You could have it'. But he couldn't He can't come here in waking, and if he could he wouldn't want to be trapped. Instead he just sighs again, nuzzing against Alucard's shoulder. ] You both do.
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He doesn't miss the books, or the cloak that's clearly meant for Speakers going by color alone. It's nice, knowing that he isn't the first one to step foot here. That Trevor's romanced Sypha many times over in this space, when she wasn't just being a nerd.]
We already have it. [Oh that's over the top mushy, even for him.] The way everything has come together meets the definition, Trevor Belmont.
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I suppose we do.
[ The chill aside, it's warmer here than it would be in the waking world. Warm and cold each have their benefits, but warm seemed better this time. There will be a time for thick cloaks and blankets and hot tea to warm the hands. Now is a time for lying beneath stars and chills gentle enough to mostly ignore (but just enough to move closer) if clothes come out of order.
He raises the hand that holds Alucard's, gesturing upward and not letting go, so that they have to gesture toward the sky together. ]
It's real, the sky. Mostly. Real as anything is here. [ Which is to say, not at all. Because it's a dream. But in the version of this place that exists somewhere- He knows what he means. ] The land is fairy-made, and the cage is me-made. But we couldn't make something like that. Couldn't even imagine it.
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Happily, he shifts in Trevor's arms. The weather is ideal, as the waking world is still full of winter chill and thick furs to be bundled up in. Which he adores, but the late spring feel of here is lovely to indulge in.
As almost a matter of course, Alucard's own hand begins to move, outlining constellations that he can pick out. Even if the sky is only Mostly Real.]
Mmmm, so it's just the background that's someone else's. I don't think I've ever seen things so clearly without the help of a telescope.
[It is clear he approves though.]
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[ He lets Alucard guide their joined hands, tracing over constellations. It's perfect, the kind of thing that they should do more often in reality, now he's finally started to recover. Alucard with all the constellations taught in books and theories about blazing storms of gas, Sypha with all the ones that mothers whisper to children and stories about wishes and sailors finding their way. Him with the secret names the his kind use to address the stars and the knowledge that they are seeing thousands of years into the past, that some of those stars are long dead.
It would be nice, even if what he can offer is a little sad. He can listen to the other two talking. He could listen to it for a lifetime and not grow bored. Slowly, he releases the arm that's around Alucard and moves it downwards. Enough to slip a hand under his shirt. He doesn't go further than that, just resting his hand there against his side, fingers stoking. ]
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[Alucard murmurs softly the name of each constellation as he goes. Sometimes he explains what the shape is, Orion, one of the Greek heroes, but he never veers into a history lesson or anything else.
This is all he wants. He wants it in the waking world, the three of them curled up around Sypha while Alucard talks about the winter's night sky. They can do that now.
Alucard sighs as Trevor slips the hand under his shirt. Going beyond that would be nice, but he doesn't need it. There's only one thing he requires now:]
S'hard to kiss you at this angle.
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Or he could be a shit.
He leans forward over Alucard's shoulder as far as his neck will allow. He's close enough to his face that if he blinks his eyelashes will brush against skin, but the angle is still absolutely terrible. He smirks, kissing Alucard's cheek. ]
Try harder, then.
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[It's a half whine, half laugh that comes out. It's all impossibly, impossibly smitten, and he tries to shift so he can kiss the Belmont better. This is only a slightly better angle, but he manages to catch the very corner of Trevor's mouth and that counts for something.]
Better.
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More convenient?
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They're settled soon enough, and once Trevor lies back down, Alucard's hand is on his hip, resting there. It's feather light, no possessiveness as there might be normally. He's in no mood for that, only for the tenderness.
When Trevor tucks the lilac back into his hair, Alucard actually blushes. He then takes his other hand and runs it through Trevor's hair.]
Yes.
[He leans his cheek against Trevor's other hand, wanting to lean against that palm. To be held all too tenderly.]
I love you.
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[ The tone was intended to be an attempt at feigning being dismissive, but it’s too warm for that. It’s teasing instead.
He draws his thumb over Alucard’s cheek. ]
Loved you since the beginning. Don’t regret a moment.
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Neither do I.
[He should kiss Trevor here. Now. It's the right moment for it, after all. But all Alucard wants to do is lie and luxuriate in the affection. He's practically stupid with it right now.]
But there are parts I'll always apologize for.
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[ 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. ]
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[Alucard's own hand responds by winding strands of Trevor's hair around his fingers, the letting go. The action repeats with a pleasant idleness, the joy of simply having the texture of Trevor's hair under his hands.
This is so much. He'd feel overwhelmed if this wasn't in dreams.
His feet nudge against Trevor's. Just to be there.]
I'm not. Don't worry about it.
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[ When Alucard’s feet nudge his own, he twines their legs together and brings one thigh up between his legs. When he moves it, there’s not enough friction to really describe it as grinding against Alucard, more just stroking languidly. They have time, and he doesn’t really have any sort of end goal in mind. Just wants to keep touching. ]
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Alucard smiles softly as Trevor rearranges their legs, and he inches just a little bit closer. It feels good, Trevor's warm body against his cooler skin. They're a study in contrasts, they've always been, and it has never felt so right as it does now.
Moving closer means that Alucard's hair fans out behind him, creating a train of golden tresses dotted with flowers. It probably looks better freom above, a flowing river in the moonlight.
His breath is slow and steady, the hand that rests on Trevor's hip idly moving up Trevor's side. There's a pause, then a soft laugh.]
Moon's making it look like there's a silver halo around your head.
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[ He nudges Alucard's arm with his elbow to move the hand back a little, to the laces of his shirt. Shirts are a difficult thing when wings are involved, preventing them from being worn in the usual way. More so when antlers are also involved, meaning the kind that pulls over the head are also not really usable. The ones Trevor wears fasten at the back with buttons or laces above and below the wings.
He could remove it himself rather than silently demanding Alucard do it, but he has better things to do right now. Like moving his mouth downward, lips and stubble grazing over Alucard's pulse. ]
Lucky it's so easy to get some colour into your face.
[ As if to demonstrate and without any other warning, he bites with pressure just bordering on bruising. ]
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[Sypha's remarked on it before, how Alucard looks like he's made of alabaster or marble when the moon is shining it's brightest overhead. It suits him, given that his wolf form might as well be made of moon light, but it's a much more beautiful effect on Trevor. It brings out more of his delicate features, and that's something Alucard rarely focuses on.
He doesn't mind being nudged into work. Something like this can become one sided in focus much too easily, and with the laces where they are, there's another advantage. As Alucard carefully undoes the first set of laces, the ones that rest right above the wings, his fingers glance over other parts of Trevor's back. His spine is the focus, but there's no pressure to any of those touches. Not yet.]
The second set of strings are caught in Alucard's fingers as Trevor grazes all the very best parts of him over Alucard's pulse. That garners a short breath that becomes a sharper one of delight as Trevor bites down. Alucard's fingers jut out just a little from the sudden sensation, and more importantly, that means there's no more laces holding Trevor's shirt in place.
His fingers stroke up Trevor's spine, just because fair is fair.]
I could say the same.
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[ He shudders at the contact before leaning into it, and the movement slides the sides of his shirt forward a little. They’re held in place by gravity and very little else now, and the way the cloth shifts when he moves to leave soothing little kisses around where he’s just bitten gives every indication that gravity might not be enough for long. ]
Bring you here for real, one day. Not to keep. Just to visit.
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Each soothing smooch gets a happy noise in response, and Alucard doesn't hesitate to try and tangle their feet together even more.]
Just me, or all three of us?
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All of us. In winter, maybe. Furs and hot wine and colours in the sky.
[ His lips move back to Alucard’s, kissing perhaps a little more possessively than is really necessary. ]
Shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Right now’s perfect.
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[It sounds perfect. Not that right now isn't perfect either, with Trevor's front finally freed from fabric. Alucard's left hand traces up his back, over Trevor's shoulder, then down to the front, resting over Trevor's heart. The movement in and of itself? That is joy. But the kiss, oh.
He'd be terrified at any other point. Now, the sense of mine nearly makes him swoon like a maiden, lips parting ever so slightly if Trevor wants to make that possessive statement further in.]
Mmmm. Do I need to be particularly careful with your wings in this place?
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Not here. [ To demonstrate, or maybe just because he can, he extends a wing to cover Alucard. It’s been a long time since he was able to do that. He misses it. ] Just don’t try to rip ‘em out, or you’ll wake me up.
[ And that would be tragic. ]
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There's an instinct to brush Trevor's wings with his fingertips like this, and so Alucard does. The texture of them never gets old. It never will.]
I would never.
[Not now, at least.]
S'beautiful.
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