[Alucard gets off of Trevor with great, great disappointment. As uncomfortable as the car has been, Trevor isn't, and the sudden tenderness has been a surprise and something he wants to do nothing but luxuriate in.
He's the one that opens the door (the house responds to him after all, and Alucard need only place his palm over the knob and everything unlocks.) But once it's closed, well, that's probably about all the control Alucard's going to exert for the next few minutes.
It's a lot, how Trevor kisses him. Intense in a way that Alucard might've expected, but is still taken aback by. Warm hands, impossibly warm hands, on his jaw. Lips that still taste a little of wine, a little of meat, a little of overly sweet dessert. Alucard's hands don't know where to go, but they settle on Trevor's hips, so very careful and almost terrified to exert any pressure.
He kisses back though, careful with his fangs and where they scrape. No drawing blood. Not romantic at all.]
That means you have to let go, Trevor. And move away from the door.
[Just give him a minute. Just-- Just a minute. To wind his arms around Adrian's waist and bury his face against the dhampir's neck. The gratitude -- and his need -- overwhelms him at times, but he doesn't have to pay mind to it. He's a dab hand at refusing to acknowledge all other emotions, after all; why should this be any different?
With a regretful parting squeeze, Trevor takes a step back. With a steadying breath, he motions for Adrian to be on his way if he so chooses. He'll be following the dhampir upstairs to change, in any case.]
[In the moment that Trevor's almost wrapped himself around Alucard entirely, Alucard has made a few choices about the rest of the evening. The first is that he is going to return the affection right here and now, and Alucard's arms move to just embrace Trevor entirely and hold him. Just until Trevor decides he ought to let go, and when he does, then Alucard pats his back gently.
He does move beyond Trevor, one perfectly manicured hand ghosting over the wall. It's a way of communicating with the house, and from one of the hidden speakers in the living room, something very soft and very classical starts to play. It isn't dancing music, it's relaxation music. Nothing loud. Nothing bold. Just a quiet comfort that seems to go well with that far too revealing squeeze of the dhampir.
Alucard doesn't go upstairs. He sheds his jacket and folds it carefully over the nearest armchair, before he goes over to the sofa. Shoes get slid off, and then the vampire just gets comfy. Resumes melting like he was in the cab, just without anyone to catch him.]
[Adrian's removed the jacket, at least. If that's as comfortable as he's willing to get at the moment, Trevor won't question it (tempting though it is to suggest the leggings again), and he won't allow Adrian to remain so lonely there on the couch either. The jacket was nice while it lasted, as was the bowtie, but Trevor makes quick work of them both, drapes them over the coffee table and toes his shoes off before flopping down beside Adrian.
Trevor has a tendency to do that. Flop. It's indelicate at best, but Adrian's never complained, so--
The current sprawl finds him cradled in the corner of the couch, looking every bit a big inviting pillow for Adrian to climb over. Though all the actual invitation he gets is an extended hand and a vague beckoning motion of Trevor's fingers.]
[Dhampirs don't need invitations to enter homes. But they do need invitations to be on other people's laps, and so Trevor's gestures forward sends the vampire right over to settle in against him.
And here, Alucard can actually do what he wanted to in the cab. His face is pressed into Trevor's chest, oh yes, but the rest of him simply curls up on Trevor's lap, trying to be as small as possible to fit in the space. It takes a lot of effort, but oh, he manages to tuck his knees in, make himself so very small, and simply be.
His arms wrap around Trevor's middle, squeezing gently. And here? Now? With music playing and the lights dimmed?
This is perfection.
The sigh that follows is the vampire at his happiest. Most spoiled. His best, and everything about him just feels aglow with affection and adoration for the Belmont. With Alucard's face mushed into Trevor's chest, he can't hear or even see the dhampir mouthing the words I love you against his shirt fabric, but Alucard does it all the same.]
[Trevor will take this. Really and truly, he'll bear it without complaint. Adrian spoils them, and so he deserves to be spoiled, particularly when his spoiling involves something as simple as curling up on the couch with-- Hell, is this smooth jazz? Trevor doesn't know, but...
It's soothing, and Adrian's weight on his chest is comforting, even if he takes forever to curl himself up into the tightest ball possible, and Trevor doesn't understand how in God's name that could be comfortable. And damn his hair, Trevor's gone a few hours too long without a strand to stroke. It's slow going with one hand, but he manages after some careful maneuvering, loosens the tie around the bun, leaves the braids, and gingerly combs his fingers through the veritable cornsilk that tumbles across Adrian's back.
That's better; sinking a hand through and down Adrian's hair, everything is infinitely better. And just in case the dhampir has any ideas about escape, Trevor drapes his other arm securely around Adrian's shoulders. Holding may be the wrong word; cradling seems more accurate, particularly considering how Trevor shifts his legs to settle Adrian more comfortably between them.
It could turn salacious. Would, if Trevor weren't reminding himself that this is enough. Though, surprisingly, it is. He could drift off to sleep like this, stay here all night, wrapped around Adrian and shockingly content. Because this...
Monsters are verifiable; Trevor's seen and slain hundreds of them. Angels? Miracles? Those, he's yet to meet. So for all that Trevor's been raised in the light of the Lord, he's never been sure of the notion of Heaven. But laying here, trapped beneath Adrian's weight, lost in his softness and his scent-- This is the closest to Heaven he's ever felt.]
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He's the one that opens the door (the house responds to him after all, and Alucard need only place his palm over the knob and everything unlocks.) But once it's closed, well, that's probably about all the control Alucard's going to exert for the next few minutes.
It's a lot, how Trevor kisses him. Intense in a way that Alucard might've expected, but is still taken aback by. Warm hands, impossibly warm hands, on his jaw. Lips that still taste a little of wine, a little of meat, a little of overly sweet dessert. Alucard's hands don't know where to go, but they settle on Trevor's hips, so very careful and almost terrified to exert any pressure.
He kisses back though, careful with his fangs and where they scrape. No drawing blood. Not romantic at all.]
That means you have to let go, Trevor. And move away from the door.
no subject
[Just give him a minute. Just-- Just a minute. To wind his arms around Adrian's waist and bury his face against the dhampir's neck. The gratitude -- and his need -- overwhelms him at times, but he doesn't have to pay mind to it. He's a dab hand at refusing to acknowledge all other emotions, after all; why should this be any different?
With a regretful parting squeeze, Trevor takes a step back. With a steadying breath, he motions for Adrian to be on his way if he so chooses. He'll be following the dhampir upstairs to change, in any case.]
no subject
He does move beyond Trevor, one perfectly manicured hand ghosting over the wall. It's a way of communicating with the house, and from one of the hidden speakers in the living room, something very soft and very classical starts to play. It isn't dancing music, it's relaxation music. Nothing loud. Nothing bold. Just a quiet comfort that seems to go well with that far too revealing squeeze of the dhampir.
Alucard doesn't go upstairs. He sheds his jacket and folds it carefully over the nearest armchair, before he goes over to the sofa. Shoes get slid off, and then the vampire just gets comfy. Resumes melting like he was in the cab, just without anyone to catch him.]
no subject
Trevor has a tendency to do that. Flop. It's indelicate at best, but Adrian's never complained, so--
The current sprawl finds him cradled in the corner of the couch, looking every bit a big inviting pillow for Adrian to climb over. Though all the actual invitation he gets is an extended hand and a vague beckoning motion of Trevor's fingers.]
Come here.
no subject
And here, Alucard can actually do what he wanted to in the cab. His face is pressed into Trevor's chest, oh yes, but the rest of him simply curls up on Trevor's lap, trying to be as small as possible to fit in the space. It takes a lot of effort, but oh, he manages to tuck his knees in, make himself so very small, and simply be.
His arms wrap around Trevor's middle, squeezing gently. And here? Now? With music playing and the lights dimmed?
This is perfection.
The sigh that follows is the vampire at his happiest. Most spoiled. His best, and everything about him just feels aglow with affection and adoration for the Belmont. With Alucard's face mushed into Trevor's chest, he can't hear or even see the dhampir mouthing the words I love you against his shirt fabric, but Alucard does it all the same.]
no subject
It's soothing, and Adrian's weight on his chest is comforting, even if he takes forever to curl himself up into the tightest ball possible, and Trevor doesn't understand how in God's name that could be comfortable. And damn his hair, Trevor's gone a few hours too long without a strand to stroke. It's slow going with one hand, but he manages after some careful maneuvering, loosens the tie around the bun, leaves the braids, and gingerly combs his fingers through the veritable cornsilk that tumbles across Adrian's back.
That's better; sinking a hand through and down Adrian's hair, everything is infinitely better. And just in case the dhampir has any ideas about escape, Trevor drapes his other arm securely around Adrian's shoulders. Holding may be the wrong word; cradling seems more accurate, particularly considering how Trevor shifts his legs to settle Adrian more comfortably between them.
It could turn salacious. Would, if Trevor weren't reminding himself that this is enough. Though, surprisingly, it is. He could drift off to sleep like this, stay here all night, wrapped around Adrian and shockingly content. Because this...
Monsters are verifiable; Trevor's seen and slain hundreds of them. Angels? Miracles? Those, he's yet to meet. So for all that Trevor's been raised in the light of the Lord, he's never been sure of the notion of Heaven. But laying here, trapped beneath Adrian's weight, lost in his softness and his scent-- This is the closest to Heaven he's ever felt.]