Trevor wakes in the dead of night to silence.
The blackwood trees, rendered lifeless by frost’s fingers, stand ominously around their small camp. No winter birds perch in their branches; no wolves howl beyond, no familiar voices echoing like a lullaby he’s grown familiar with the longer they’ve trekked through the wilds.
Around them, the world is mute. A grim omen.
Alucard stands beside him, his entire body tensed as he scans the forest. Sypha awakens, immediately snapping to attention.
“Something’s coming,” Alucard whispers.
- - -
It’s almost nice. It would be nice, if his guts weren’t spilling out.
Idly, Trevor wonders how the fuck they’ll manage to best Dracula if they could scarcely stand up to a sneak attack planned by one of his generals.
- - -
“The signpost we passed spoke of a town a ways ahead.” He’s aware of Alucard’s voice, speaking in a hushed tone. “Can you see if there are any inn rooms available?”
“What?” Sypha replies, indignant. “And leave him here, like this? Why not just bring him to the inn, then?”
“He’s lost too much blood already; I am not sure he can make it that far, and would rather not take that chance. Please, Sypha – he will be all right. I will take care of him, but I need you to trust me.”
“What are you going to do to him?”
“Trust me. Just this once. I will explain everything after, but I would rather you not be here for this. Things may get.. messy. It is not something you need to see. Please, once I am done, I will bring him to the inn; he will need rest.”
“Fine,” Sypha acquiesces, though Trevor can still hear a note of frustration in her voice, a spark of fight that has not yet guttered out. “Do what you must. But you will bring him back.”
“Of course I will. Thank you, Sypha.”
Trevor reaches out, catches Sypha’s arm in his weak grasp and meets her gaze as she stares down at him, brows furrowed and the faint glint of tears lining her eyes. She laces her fingers with his, holds his hand between her warm palms for a long, lingering moment, before letting go. “Stay safe, Belmont,” she whispers. “I’ll see you soon.”
- - -
“Drink, Belmont,” Alucard urges, holding his bloodied wrist before Trevor’s face.
Trevor stares down at the pale skin, marred by twinned punctures, the crimson trickling slowly at once both enticing and repulsing; Alucard’s own life force leaking bit-by-bit from his veins, being offered up to Trevor like the healing blood of Christ himself.
He grits his teeth, makes no move to put his mouth to the dhampir’s arm and instead turns his head and tries to weakly shove Alucard away, rebuking it wordlessly and finding himself unable to muster the mental fortitude to snap at the other man with some sort of snide reply, as is his norm. The wound in Trevor’s side throbs. Mouth-drying pain lances through him as if his own body is reprimanding him for his idiocy, before settling back to a slow, steady ache that palpitates in time with his heart’s every beat.
An angry growl sounds from beside him, and Trevor cries out in agony as his body is spread upon the altar, offending hands pinned above his head and Alucard’s knees straddling his hips. Restraining him. “You will drink,” Alucard snarls, pressing his wrist to Trevor’s cold-chapped lips and staining them with his blood. “I will not have you die – not here, not not now, not ever. I swear it upon your God and all your Saints, you stupid, stubborn man.”
Trevor tries once more to turn his head away from the offered limb, but finds himself unable to when the hand that had been pinning his wrists cards violently through his hair, pushing his mussed bangs from his face and yanking his head back with unexpected force. As a noise of surprise escapes him, Alucard seizes his chance and presses his wrist to Trevor’s lips. The biting, metallic taste of blood hits his tongue immediately; the dhampir flexes his wrist hard, prompting more of the substance to flood Trevor’s mouth in a foul deluge.
“Swallow it,” Alucard instructs, clenching the hand in Trevor’s hair tighter to emphasize his expectation of obedience. Barriers of futile resistance finally broken, Trevor complies, swallowing the mouthful of blood and beginning to drink more from the bleeding fang-marks at a sluggish pace, his disgust at the taste and the entire notion of drinking vampire blood overpowered by his need to survive and the understanding that Alucard wouldn’t force him to do such a thing were he not in perilous condition.
Eyes closed, he drinks, and drinks, and drinks, lips to Alucard’s wrist and tongue swiping over the punctures. Trevor feels the wound in his side begin to knit itself together, a miracle most Saints would be envious of. The pain dulls to an almost nonexistent ache and the seeping of his life-blood is stifled, scabbed, and entirely ceased within a matter of minutes. Life and renewed vigor flood his limbs – warmth flows once more to the tips of his fingers, his cheeks flush and his heart thump-thump-thumps in his chest, fast and healthy and entirely alive. He can’t recall the last time he felt so wholly strong, head cleared and body absolved of old aches and pains that had plagued him for years. His senses feel heightened to a near-unbearable degree, ears able to pick up even the most minute sounds in the church: the bleak winter wind that wisps outside and the creaks of sagging pews and the scurrying of mice in the eaves. Alucard’s lower half, still pressed to his, and the hand clenched in his hair give Trevor a yearning that he doesn’t want to put words to, forcing him to still his own body lest he begin rutting up against the other man like an animal in heat. It’s intoxicating. Pure, heady exhilaration in liquid form.
He feels fucking fantastic.
When Alucard tugs his wrist away, Trevor’s almost loathe to let it go, yearning for more of the life-giving blood that has restored his health and more in such a short span of time. The fang-marks heal as quickly as most of Alucard’s flesh wounds do, leaving nothing in their wake but pale, unmarked skin surrounded by a stain of blood in the shape of Trevor’s mouth.
“Christ,” Trevor exhales, hand immediately flying to his side once Alucard steps off and away from him. He fingers the area where the wound had previously gaped, bloodied and agonizing, and finds the skin entirely unblemished. Not even a simple scar remains where the gash had been. It’s a fucking miracle. “You’re a fucking miracle.” Utter disbelief laces his words, and he sits up on the altar, staring at Alucard like the dhampir had hung the moon in the fucking sky.
Alucard chuckles, rolling his sleeve back down his wrist and straightening out his clothing. “I’m.. flattered?”
“This –– your blood..” Trevor trails off, attempting to sort his muddled thoughts, to parse what had just occurred. “None of my family’s bestiaries have ever mentioned any sort of healing power. Why’ve you kept this a secret from Sypha and I?”
“My kin have kept many of our capabilities secret for centuries,” Alucard replies slowly, guarded gaze meeting Trevor’s, “and with good reason; you and yours and all others of the monster hunting ilk would have undoubtedly tracked us down, chained us, and harvested the blood from our bodies instead of killing us. A fate worse than a quick death.”
Trevor’s brow furrows, frustration simmering within him. “We made a pact,” he mutters, “to save Wallachia from your father. All this time – we could have been doing more, we wouldn’t have had to restrain ourselves in battle knowing that––“
Boots thump heavy on the ground as Alucard closes the gap between them until he’s near nose-to-nose with Trevor, face contorted into fang-bared snarl of fury, and oh, that does things to the lust that’s pooling low in Trevor’s belly. “Knowing that what, Belmont? That you would have the luxury of draining my blood to heal every bump and scrape and bruise you incurred? You’ll have to excuse my lack of desire to be treated like a blood bag that you can exhaust at whim.”
“Don’t put words into my mouth. You know neither Sypha nor I would treat you in such a cruel manner.”
Alucard takes a step back and wearily scrubs a hand down his face, the surge of momentary anger dissipating from his body with a tight sigh and slumped shoulders. A hand waves dismissively.
“I apologize,” he relents. “I spoke rashly. But you must understand the potential ramifications of this knowledge being made known; when we first began our journey, I had resolved to only use my blood if either you or Sypha were near death. This is not a secret that I reveal lightly. I could not bear having your death on my conscience, knowing I had the power of life within my veins.”
Trevor’s lips purse into a thin line. “..Thank you,” he murmurs.
A stiff nod of acknowledgement greets his words. “While the benefits outweigh the drawbacks, there are.. some, ah, consequences that accompany the drinking of vampire blood.”
With the already-overwhelming feelings of life and vigor and amplified sensations assaulting his faculties (the most troublesome of which is the blood he can feel migrating distinctly southward within him), this piques Trevor’s interest. “Oh? Pray tell, what might those be?”
“Your senses and strength will be heightened. Increased, for a time. And, until my blood works its way out of your system, we will share a… bond, of sorts.”
“I will be able to feel your emotions and sense where you are, no matter the distance between us,” Alucard interjects. His face is impassive, gaze glued to the timeworn tiles of the church floor. Dragging in a slow, solemn breath, he continues, voice dropping low enough that it’s hard for Trevor to make out his words: “You will also experience an extremely increased libido.”
Trevor blinks. Stares, brow furrowed, at a man who won’t even meet his gaze as he says the words. Tries even harder to ignore the yearning awakening his cock that he can now put a reason to. “Run that last part by me again.”
“Because I am not a full-bred vampire, the potency of the aphrodisiac in my blood and its effect on humans’ bodies is considerably less. But you will, for a short period of time, feel an increase in… desire.”
Christ. Trevor takes a deep breath, clenches his thighs together, and attempts to think about anything other than how much he needs a hand on his cock right now. Alucard’s hand, preferably. Wait, fuck –– no, he shakes his head to clear that particular thought because he’s fairly certain that, even though he wouldn’t mind some quick stroke action from the dhampir, Alucard would likely never share his sentiments. So, Trevor strives to picture the absolute worst and will his growing hard-on down. Gresit’s shit-sewers. Vampires drinking from headless bodies like one would nurse an ale at a tavern. Rot-ripe pits filled with decaying corpses.
Whatever he calls to mind, it doesn’t matter, doesn’t have any effect upon his increased libido, Alucard’s voice echoes in his head. Even thoughts of severed heads impaled upon pikes and demonic fiends tossing the corpses of children back and forth between them like dogs playing with toys can’t soften him.
His extended silence prompts Alucard to speak once more, pointed words ending Trevor’s contemplation about his current predicament. “Thankfully, the condition is not a long-lasting one, nor will it addle your mind in any way. It’s entirely bodily. A few hours, at most, of discomfort, and it should pass.”
Alucard finally tears his eyes from the spot they’d been glued to upon the church floor, his intense and uncomfortable gaze meeting Trevor’s. “I have admittedly never… given my blood to a human, before. All of this is knowledge passed down to me.”
“Great. Fantastic. We’re both fucked in this together,” Trevor huffs. “So, what? We just sit here and wait until my cock decides to stop having a mind of its own?”
The dhampir shrugs. Takes a step forward and sits on the altar beside him, just close enough to make Trevor’s cock twitch delightfully. “That,” he begins slowly, “is one option. I could also help.. alleviate some of the symptoms, if you are amenable to that.”
“Are you hard of hearing, Belmont?” Alucard grits out, his propositioning obviously making him just as uncomfortable to utter aloud as it makes Trevor to hear it. “As it is my blood that put you in this predicament, I feel it only right that I should offer to help you through it.”
Trevor resists the urge to roll his eyes at Alucard’s extremely formal wording. “Christ, you sound so stiff. Just speak plainly.”
Alucard holds his gaze, a flicker of something alight in his eerie eyes. “If you’d like me to, Belmont, I’ll suck your cock. Is that plain enough for you?”
It’s enticing; so enticing to just give in, let Alucard do as he will, and never speak of this entire fucked-up day again. He could, and he should, Trevor thinks, but that part of him he’s spent weeks on the road muffling and bottling up and hiding, unacknowledged, within himself, the part of him that’s inexplicably drawn to the dhampir like a fly to honey, whispers no. Not like this. He doesn’t want you.
“Well, I’m sorry you feel so obligated to suck me off. I’ll try to avoid getting any mortal wounds in the future so we can avoid being put in this situation again.” Trevor’s words are dry, cutting as he speaks them. His gaze breaks from Alucard’s and he stares, unfocused, at a chalky bronze crucifix that hangs askew upon the back wall of the church’s nave. “I’ll deal with this myself. Save you the trouble, since I’m sure you’d rather not, anyhow.”
There’s a pregnant pause, a fleeting moment of silence, and then the sudden feeling of Alucard’s cool fingertips sliding beneath his chin and turning Trevor’s face. Alucard holds him there, forces Trevor to meet his gaze, and goddamn those eyes always do things to him, make the pit of his stomach burn with long-suppressed desire.
“As much as I do feel it is my responsibility to help you,” Alucard begins, slow and smooth, “I would not offer to do this for you if I did not also want to do it. And as inopportune a time this is to confess such, given the circumstances, I will admit to having desired this, desired you, for some time.”
It’s too good to be true, just like every single fucking nice thing that’s ever happened to Trevor has been. A scoff escapes his lips, sharp and cynical. “Nice of you to say, but don’t pretend you actually want to fuck me just so you can clean up the mess you’ve made.”
The fingers holding Trevor’s chin tighten, sharp nails digging into his skin. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Belmont,” Alucard spits, brows drawn together in dark ire. “If I did not mean what I have said, I would have left you here alone the moment your wound closed to handle your body’s reaction to my blood. But I am here because – though the petty self-loathing you enjoy wallowing in might tell you none do – I care about you.”
Trevor purses his lips and stares at Alucard, the disbelief within his chest outweighed, now, by his desire to finally push the dhampir down on the altar and ride him ‘til the sun comes up, the feelings he’d repressed deep within himself now uncorked and flowing freely. There’s a certain elation he feels, unconnected to the base lust that courses through his veins – a quiet happiness to hear someone say they care, after the years he’s spent inundating his cruel thoughts in liquor and convincing himself all those who ever did and ever will care perished in the fire that devoured everything he loved.
“Truly?” Trevor asks, though the word comes out a gruff mumble.
Alucard nods, releases Trevor’s chin and settles his hand atop one of the hunter’s. “Truly.”
“We’re in a church,” Trevor points out.
“So I’ve noticed.”
“You’d suck my cock in a house of God?”
Alucard’s lips curve upward into a sly smile. “I will do more than that, if you desire.”
Fuck it, Trevor thinks, sliding a hand behind Alucard’s neck and pulling the man toward him. I’m already going to hell.
The barrier Trevor had created in his mind, built of whispered self-deprecation and biting assumptions that Alucard – alluring, frustrating Alucard – wouldn’t deign to do something like this with him, breaks. Bursts, like a weak dam, and a deluge of pure lust and want and need overwhelms him, more potent than the intoxicating blood he’d glutted himself on mere minutes ago.
Alucard, the newly-formed blood-bond between them keening him to Trevor’s emotions, meets Trevor’s lips in a hard kiss, the sudden barrage of lust twinned with his own blowing his pupils wide, inundating him twofold. The kiss is long, invigorating, and sorely needed; Trevor indulges himself and allows Alucard to coax his mouth open with the sweet slide of his tongue, goes boneless and gives in when Alucard shifts, stands, and grinds their hips together, pressing Trevor’s ass into the side of the altar.
“This isn’t how I’d ever imagined things going, but I’ll take it,” Trevor mumbles when they finally part, eyes fever-bright with want and face flushed and mind quickly melting into a puddle.
Alucard cocks his head. A sharp smile dances upon his lips, amused. “You’ve imagined this? Between us?”
“A time or two, perhaps.”
Cool fingers smooth down the front of his his ruined shirt and every button on the front is briskly thumbed undone, lingering kisses placed upon Trevor’s skin as each inch is bared to Alucard. Fingers pause at the buckle of his belt, and Alucard, on his knees before Trevor like a sinner praying his penance, looks up at him beneath the long lashes of half-lidded eyes. “Let me make this better than anything you’ve imagined, then,” he purrs.
Belt buckle and pants are unfastened in a deft motion, and then, finally, Alucard’s hand is on him, holding Trevor’s cock, teasing the tip with his thumb as he brings his lips to it. Slow. Tortuous. Staring up, holding Trevor’s gaze the entire time.
His lips wrap around the tip of Trevor’s cock and Christ, that feels wonderful.
It takes all of what little self-control Trevor has left in him to not grab the back of Alucard’s head and shove his entire length down the dhampir’s throat, because Alucard is a fucking tease; he takes his sweet, leisurely time, lips and tongue and the barest brush of smooth fangs working around Trevor’s cock as he swallows him down one cruel bit at a time. Trevor rolls his lower lip between his teeth, stifles the moans that choke his throat – and then the sweet, wet heat around him is gone, and Alucard is looking up at him, lips red and swollen and spit-shined. “Let me hear you,” he demands.
Trevor is all too willing to oblige when Alucard resumes his ministrations, choking him down to the base, pale throat working and swallowing around his cock. His hoarse moans echo around the empty church and his head lolls back; he comes staring up at the scuffed, timeworn rendition of Christ Pantokrator that’s painted on the chancel ceiling, omnipotent gaze regarding them from above with silent condemnation, and cries out “Adrian!”
Alucard doesn’t pull his mouth away until he’s swallowed every drop of Trevor’s come. He stands and swipes his tongue over his lips, grips the hair at the back of Trevor’s neck and drags him into a violent kiss, and Trevor can taste himself on the dhampir’s tongue.
“Fuck,” he exhales, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against Alucard’s; his cock still strains upwards, as hard as it had been before Alucard had gotten on his knees. “Still?”
The other man chuckles, presses a bemused kiss to the corner of Trevor’s mouth. “I told you, it can take several hours for this to pass.”
Trevor groans. Fucking vampires. “You sure your mouth won’t get sore?”
“As I also said, I don’t mind doing whatever you desire.”
Hm, he thinks, an idea rising to mind. “In that case..” Trevor trails off, catches Alucard’s lips in a quick kiss and grasps the dhampir’s biceps, switching their positions. He presses a firm palm flat to the other man’s chest and urges him back; Alucard, keen as always, acquiesces to his unspoken demand and hauls himself bodily up onto the altar, laying down and allowing Trevor to straddle his hips, a knee to either side.
Alucard tugs Trevor’s head down, trails kisses down his jaw and nips at the skin of his neck, rolling it between his teeth and laving his tongue over the reddened mark left behind that Trevor knows will blossom into a bruise come the morrow. His lips brush the shell of Trevor’s ear, warm breath stirring the hair beside it. “Ride me,” he whispers, thumbs slipping beneath the waistband of Trevor’s pants and slipping them down his ass, off his legs fully. “I want to watch you fuck yourself on my cock.” Palms slide beneath Trevor’s shirt, working it off his shoulders and teasing his peaked nipples. “And then I want to fuck you against this altar for hours. I’m going to ruin you.”
“I’d love for you to try,” Trevor replies haughtily.
Alucard’s lips draw back, fangs bared. “Is that a challenge?”
“Perhaps it is.”
“Mouthy brat.” Teeth sink into his neck, just above his fluttering carotid artery; fangs nick his skin – just a hint, a wordless warning to Trevor. Keep your tongue in check.
When Alucard draws back, Trevor can see a tiny bit of blood glistening on the dhampir’s lower lip, which is promptly swept away by his tongue. Alucard’s sly grin is gone, replaced by a lust-riddled expression, dark and animalistic and fuck, Trevor needs him.
He shifts and moves off the altar to stand beside it. “Be just a moment.”
A cursory glance, and he spots it – the small, ornate cabinet is embedded into a wall near the altar, the gilding and wood faded and scuffed with age. Trevor opens it and looks through the scarce contents inside: three glass vessels of oil, each etched with different letters. SC, one of them reads, and his mind subconsciously murmurs, sanctum chrisma. He takes the small vessel back to Alucard and resumes his position, straddling the dhampir and uncorking the chrism.
“What is that?” Alucard asks, one prim brow raised.
“Holy oil.” Trevor pours a generous amount into his palm and slicks his fingers up, tracing them around his entrance with practiced ease. One, then two, then three – each finger slips in, scissoring himself while Alucard watches with hunger in his eyes, disrobing himself quickly and letting the garments fall to the floor with little care.
He pours more oil into his hand and wraps it around Alucard’s cock, pumping the length several times to coat it completely; the dhampir’s arms snake out, fingers digging into Trevor’s hips with bruising force, pulling him forward until he’s lined up with Alucard’s cock.
Trevor lets out a shaky breath, sinks down and circles his hips and moans, because fuck, that feels just right. He repeats the action several more times, rising and sinking, up, down, up, down, until he finds the angle that hits that spot inside perfectly. The fingers wrapped around his hips begin to lead him, Alucard rocking Trevor in a steady rhythm that jerks him up, bounces him upon his cock as he takes the entire length deep within him.
“God, Alucard – Adrian,” he moans, hands hot and heavy upon the dhampir’s chest, palms pressed flat.
Alucard’s lips curve into a half-moon grin. “Is that a new iteration of The Trinity?” he comments. “I quite like it.”
Trevor snorts. “Smart a–– ah!” he cries out, words twisted into a throaty moan as a hand comes firmly down on his ass, leaving a burning mark upon his skin. The hand slips over his hip and Alucard takes Trevor’s slick cock in his palm, pumping it in time with each slam of his cock within the hunter.
The twinned sensations are too much at once, too overwhelming, and Trevor comes for a second time, unspeakable pleasure inundating his senses and his painfully hard cock leaking out in Alucard’s palm.
Without warning, Alucard, unsated, flips Trevor onto his stomach, jerking him onto his hands and knees and pounding into him with vampiric ferocity. Trevor yelps, surprised, fingers scrabbling at the sides of the altar for purchase. Alucard’s fingers yank his hair and pull his head backwards, forcing Trevor to arch his back and meet his lips in a bruising kiss, fangs clacking against teeth and tongue flooding Trevor’s mouth with fevered passion. Trevor moans against Alucard and the dhampir drinks in the sound, front pressed to the hunter’s back as he fucks him into the altar, each thrust harder and faster than the last, pounding him ravenously with his cock. Then, Alucard lets out a guttural cry, nails digging into the skin of Trevor’s hips as he empties himself within.
Trevor collapses first, quickly followed by Alucard, both entwined upon the altar in a panting, sweaty, come-stickied mass.
“Sypha’s probably wondering where the hell we are,” Trevor mumbles, brushing a lock of golden hair behind one of Alucard’s ears absentmindedly.
“I hate to worry her, but..” Alucard trails off, staring pointedly down at Trevor’s cock, already recuperated from his last orgasm and standing at attention once more. “I do not think we’ll be leaving here until that is remedied.”
“Christ. She’s going to kick our asses into next week for the trouble.” He leans forward, pressing a fleeting kiss to the corner of Alucard’s mouth. “That ass-beating will be worth it, though.”
Alucard smiles – small, soft, and private, fondness and unequivocable care in his eyes as he gazes at Trevor. “I agree.”