[Trevor squints. That sounds like a lie. A lie like parents tell their toddlers at dinner time -- open up for the airplane -- and Trevor's not entirely convinced that Adrian is above that manner of trickery.]
[Okay, that's-- He can do this. He can. And it may be with all the grace of a newborn giraffe, but he manages to stiffly shuffle to the edge of the tub, whereupon he collapses -- almost on top of the empty liquor bottles -- to the floor beside Adrian. His head may have smacked the floor. It's hard to tell if that hollow thud is his skull or his pride.]
[Alucard tries to dive to prevent him from falling to the floor. Alucard fails miserably, and that? That means a concussion check next.]
No, I blame your drinking.
[He was going to try and make this sexy, but not now. Alucard goes about this practically, running his nails down one side of the leggings, then the other. Then?
Then the peeling off happens. That is careful. Slow. Alucard's eyes focused on all of Trevor's hips and lower body, sighing in relief as the fabric pulls away.]
[Trevor groans loudly, with a dramatic sprawl across the floor. It's as ungraceful as his exit from the tub, but despite the red marks all around his hips and legs, it feels like he can breathe again.
And Adrian's heard that moan before, but not like this.]
[There's a squeeze of Trevor's hand, and then? Then Alucard gets up. Walks over to the tub, his back turned to Trevor. He keeps his back turned, removing his trousers. Pausing to unbutton his shirt, and then getting into the tub.
When he turns? It's with his shirt still open, and hands reaching down to get more water running from his hips down to his legs.]
[Trevor has a few very specific fixations. One of them happens to be wet skin, and another, Adrian's legs. Bless them, praise them; both at once nearly has him giddy.
He leans forward, elbows on his knees and a nigh-dreamy sigh on his lips.]
[Trevor might have come up with a halfway believable excuse, had Adrian not broken out the ultimate equalizer and shot his attention to hell. It's foul play. Dirty pool. Wet legs. Trevor can't tear his eyes away.
The truth is probably a good deal stranger than any fiction he could invent anyway.]
I was bored. And pretending to be a pirate isn't as fun without the right pants.
[Trevor has to stop, to seriously consider what he'd just said. In the grand tradition of Trevor not making any fucking sense at all, this is probably vying for first place in the nonsense idiot semi-finals. But he just rolls his eyes, as if this is something Adrian should just understand without further explanation or ado.]
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Promise?
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[Alucard sighs, then waggles his hand in the come forward motion.]
Do this for me and I'll let you look at my legs all nice and wet?
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Fine. Do your worst.
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I blame my head trauma solely on your legs.
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No, I blame your drinking.
[He was going to try and make this sexy, but not now. Alucard goes about this practically, running his nails down one side of the leggings, then the other. Then?
Then the peeling off happens. That is careful. Slow. Alucard's eyes focused on all of Trevor's hips and lower body, sighing in relief as the fabric pulls away.]
How's that feel?
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And Adrian's heard that moan before, but not like this.]
Fuck, that's better. Thank you.
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[Alucard finishes with the fabric, then flings it aside. Scoots himself up towards Trevor's head, and gently kisses his lips.]
Sit up slowly. Make sure you don't have a concussion.
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No harm done.
[Trevor presses a grateful kiss to Adrian's cheek, and then squints down at his phone.]
Are you home early? [Or was he just in the tub for that long?]
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[Alucard squints at Trevor, then sighs.]
No sleeping for a while, you have to sober up before we figure out how badly you hit your head.
[That kiss does a lot to shut him up though, and he takes Trevor's hand in his.]
I believe I need to pay up though yes?
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I think you had better, or I'll file for compensation.
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When he turns? It's with his shirt still open, and hands reaching down to get more water running from his hips down to his legs.]
As agreed then.
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He leans forward, elbows on his knees and a nigh-dreamy sigh on his lips.]
You're fucking beautiful.
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[Alucard doesn't approve of the drinking. Or the probable concussion.]
Explain the leggings?
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Would you buy 'curiosity?'
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[Alucard sits himself on the edge of the tub. Lets all the water run down his legs, still frowning at Trevor.]
I don't think it's the right look for you.
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The truth is probably a good deal stranger than any fiction he could invent anyway.]
I was bored. And pretending to be a pirate isn't as fun without the right pants.
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[Alucard stares. What the fuck. His dick is hanging out and just. This???]
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Pirates wear tight pants. Obviously.
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[There. That's a logical query, right?]
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[Because he was watching the pirate movie while he drank.]
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[He sighs.]
Let's dry your ass and balls off and go rest, hm?
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[Not that he's complaining, but honestly, it just seems impractical to leave the rest of him wet.]
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[Either way, Alucard just helps Trevor up, mindful not to move too fast.]
You are getting into bed after that though, am I understood?
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