22. Pressing a warm hand into their side/stomach/back to alleviate cramps or muscle strains
for Sonilver? :>
Sight fading... legs burning... chest empty... pain all over...
Keeled over on the damp grass, holding his heart in place before it could escape his throat, Silver considered that in hindsight, accepting Sonic's challenge was a stupid idea.
It didn't seem like it at the time. Silver didn't really think twice about the lopsidedness of it all. He just refused to back down once Sonic grinned at him with that smarmy, captivating grin of his.
And now look at him, gasping like a fish out of water while Sonic had disappeared beyond the horizon!
Wait, no. Underneath his own ragged breathing and pumping blood, Silver could hear Sonic guffawing in his general vicinity.
"You did your best, Silver!" he laughed, which to him sounded worse than mockery. Of course he gave it all!
But he had no air to reply with.
"Hey, man, take it easy." A soft hand rubbed Silver's back, right where it hurt the most in his futle efforts to gulp in air. He didn't even realize how much his muscles were aching from the strain. "I meant it, you know. I think you got faster since the last time we raced!"
Silver held his response back. In that moment, only Sonic's comforting massages mattered. He was surprisingly gentle about it, despite his nature, knowing precisely how deep his fingers had to sink in to relieve soreness, and the right circular motions to... no, he would not purr, no he wouldn't.
Racing Sonic was a stupid idea, but Silver was not one to play it safe.
They were tired, after Julia filled her wicked basket to the brim with healing herbs and redolent flowers that only bloom under the moonlight; their house (it came natural, to her, to think of her shop as such: she would have laughed!) was a good walk away, and while Hector certainly had the strength to march on without a sweat, he didn’t appear to be inclined to do so, wiping droplets from his glistening hair and letting himself fall gracefully against a large trunk.
Sure, they might as well, Julia thought with a giggle. They could watch the sun rise together. The sky was limpid enough for such a lovely view.
And so she sat, uncaring of her dress pooling around her in the grass. It was a fluid motion, Hector spreading his arm to welcome her and Julia leaning against him like his side was the safest nest. Perhaps it had become such. When, she couldn’t guess, but one day, after Hector held her safe against her nightmares and after she tended her hand for a friendly dance, he had become an inextricable part of her life.
If only she could step back in time and tell herself from a year prior the good news. She would have laughed heartily.
The first pink splashes of color tinged the sky and the forest around them. The melody of the morning birds chirping to one another surrounded them. The rustling of the leaves over their heads lulled Julia into letting go of the tension holding her body taut, the vestiges of that one part of her, that stubborn cracked part of her who, some days, could not look at Hector in the eye. As if she was afraid to still glimpse that lurid light that animated his thirst for Isaac’s blood.
But when Hector turned his head towards her, no doubt alerted by her shifting, there was nothing but the kindest warmth in his half-lidded eyes. And a smile blossomed on his lips, and how could he breach Julia’s fears with such ease? She couldn’t bear it, she couldn’t bear how much she wanted it, for this shared moment to never come to an end.
Julia let Hector’s head fall on her shoulder, for a change. His longer hair obscured his eyes; as she played with it, twirling it around her finger, it felt that it helped, albeit barely.
Because Hector was now in proximity of her treacherously honest heart, and when she held him like that, like he was the only person worth sharing a sunrise with, her carefully woven secrets came unraveled like a claw pulled at the strings.
And the most terrifying part of it is that she was not scared of him listening to her heartbeat.
20) Detangling or braiding their hair as their head rests in your lap
(🥺)
~
What the Prince requests, the Prince shall receive. No questions ought to be asked, and no word ought to be uttered that is not "yes, young Master."
Hector won't say them either, for the bond that had grown between the two, wrapped around their hearts, far supassed that of master and servant. It is in the quietest, softest silence, that Prince Adrian lies his head on Hector's lap - the Prince, lowering his head in front of his knight! Unheard of - and rests, his porcelain features all but glowing under Hector's careful touch.
He has asked for his hair to be braided into something more manageable. An odd request, as the Prince has never before shown any discomfort with his long tresses. But Hector is not one to question Prince Adrian... even less so when he's granted the privilege, and yes pleasure, of carding his fingers through the spun gold that grows from Adrian's scalp, weaving his hair in slow, careful motions even though he cannot feasibly hurt the dhampir, and feeling his purrs resonate in his own ribcage.
Hector swallows the urge to plant a kiss on the young man's forehead. He cannot possibly dare, not when he reeks of blood. And yet, despite his sins, the Prince keeps seeking him for these quiet, soothing encounters.
Belschine and 25 for the physical affection prompts…?
(Sorry for yet another Belschine ask😭😭😭😭 feel free to block me if this is getting annoying)
Why would I when I love Belschine too 🥺
~
25) Curling into their chest, protected from everything in the world for that moment
Was it over...?
Maxim stirred in the bed, keenily and uncomfortably aware of the stiffness of his limbs. Of course it was over. He had seen the castle crumble with his own eyes, he had returned home on his own tired feet, he had hugged Lydie once more. Sweet Lydie, without a care in the world, and without a memory nor a trace of what he had done to her.
Were it not for the deep ache in his chest, like he got his organs ripped out of him, he would have dismissed his memories as a terrible fever dream.
Well, Juste seemed to act like they were.
Maxim turned over towards his friend. To an outside eye, Juste looked like the picture of peace. Part of him (that disgusting part of him that he had allowed to poison his mind!) envied the way his white hair fell around his face, framing it like a church painting. Eyelids delicately closed, pale eyelashes fluttering, and parted lips: for sure, his good friend was sleeping soundly, after saving him and Lydie like he was fated to do.
But Maxim was not an outsider, and after so many nights spent at each other's house after long training sessions, Juste's shallow breath could not fool him.
Hah. Not even he could keep a lie for too long.
Maxim's gaze traveled up and down his friend's sprawled form. Suddenly, he looked terribly small and alone, like when he was still a child and no one had hopes that he would grow out of his frail form, let alone fill his ancestor's shoes. Not that Maxim ever cared, teasing aside. He did not befriend Juste because of the whip he still kept furled on his hip. They found each other through laughter, and claps on the shoulders, and races on top of hills, and the filling sensation of knowing that no matter what the world threw at them, they would always find one another.
Juste's breath deepened when Maxim pulled him closer and rested his head atop of his chest. His friend could pull a smile towards anyone else, but his heart, beating slower and slower, would not lie to him.
18/Secret handshake for the physical affection prompt thing, please... Trevor and Alucard, maybe?
Tagging @maria-renard-kin who sent me the same prompt but with no ship lol!
~
A high five, a low five, hands clasped together.
"Again."
A high five, a low five, hands clasped together.
"Why does this matter so ardently to you?"
A high five, a low five, hands clasped together.
"You seem to be amused, Alucard!"
"Perplexed, more likely."
"It's a special greeting between the two of us," Trevor grinned, not a waver in his smile. "I don't want you to forget it!"
And Alucard understood.
How could I ever forget you, Belmont?
A high five, a low five, hands clasped together.
It wasn't until six centuries later than Arikado, cloaked in shadows to mingle with his mother's kind, met his old friend once more. Unaged, as his flesh had long turned into earth; a mere phantom sprung from the legend that surrounded his name for so long.
Could he even recognize him, in such a state?
"Trevor," he called, the name bursting with nostalgia on his tongue. The man's eyebrows twitched, but he kept his lips pursed.
Arikado offered his bare hand. A high five, a low five, and hands clasped together. And there they stayed, as Trevor smiled in recognition.
"It's been a long time, my friend."
The dhampir let out a tired chuckle. "You could say that."
Ficlet inspired by @radiant-featherball's post about Alucard needing blood. I hoped I could have written it in a day, not a week lol, but I did it.
Hopefully you'll like some Trevorcard fluff :3
~
Back when he was buried in his own luxurious room, Alucard couldn’t have dreamed that one day, he’d camp right outside the gates of his former home, getting ready to storm it with companions by his side.
Companions. Who took him under their wing, without so much as recoiling from the sight of his feline eyes, or suspecting the way he pursed his lips to hide his teeth. The thought was enough to lift Alucard’s head as they walked side by side. He could even withstand with more ease the faint ache of holiness coming from Trevor, when he clapped his hand on Alucard’s shoulder as if the two had been partners for a lifetime. Even as it stung from handling his sacred whip and phials of holy water, the warmth radiating from his… friend spread on Alucard’s lips in the form of a smile.
Now, it was only a matter of not betraying their fragile trust, by keeping under lock and key the most unsightly parts of himself. No matter what.
The musings kept Alucard company during the night vigil. It was only fair, given his nature, that he would be the one keeping guard over his travel companions. Both Sypha and Grant were fast asleep huddled near the fire, the former a small bundle under his robes yet clutching his staff like a swordsman would in battle, the latter sprawled on the grass and snoring in a way Alucard could only envy.
Then again, even if he could rest on the downiest mattress filled with goose feathers, sleep would elude him. His body was a pulled wire, waiting on tenterhooks for the next day. Every nerve in him was on edge, and he swallowed drily. He needed…
No. Never! He would not stain his companions with his filthy nature. Alucard wrapped himself tighter in his cloak, and strained his ears to ear anything over Grant’s noises.
The smell of holy blood caught his senses before the muffled sound of boots on the soil. Alucard’s head perked up. The hunter was returning.
And sure indeed, marching with his usual confident gait, Trevor approached the group, gleaming with confidence… and water.
“A monster lured me into the river nearby,” he shrugged before Alucard could question his sorry state. “It paid for it.”
He nodded, not adding further. In a corner of his mind, Mother’s voice already fretted: when he was a young lad and still learning how to fly, he might have fallen into the same river more times than he would be comfortable revealing. But he kept quiet, as not even straining his imagination he could conjure the mighty Belmont falling ill to a mere body of water. He was no sickly hybrid defying Christendom.
However, he was indeed human, and capable of feeling cold.
Trevor shuddered with a full-body shake even though he extended his arms near the campfire. Alucard’s fingers flitted to the clasp of his cloak, ready to offer it to his friend in need… before freezing, at the sight of Trevor beating him in speed, and pulling away his own soaked shirt in one swift movement.
And Alucard stared.
The dampness of the shirt had seeped through, and left a shiny sheen on Trevor’s torso. Under the moonlight, his muscles pulled, as he stretched with his arms upwards; he was strong, that much Alucard could tell at first glance, but something about seeing his flushed skin, the faint outline of the veins bulging under his biceps, the breadth of his chest – how fitting, for a man with such a big heart! – showed his new friend in a new light.
Trevor… was built to hunt creatures of the night.
The thought scorched Alucard’s tongue and flared where nothing should stir.
“Don’t do that,” he managed to choke out between his canines, perversely sliding out of their sheaths. It came out more as a pitiful wheeze than the command of a Prince, when for once he would have desired so. In response, Trevor had the audacity to cock an eyebrow at him.
“Why? We’re all men.”
Alucard threw a glance at the sleeping wizard near the campfire, swift enough for the hunter to not notice his doubts. He had no intention to reveal Sypha’s secret, only unveiled by his beastly senses: in that moment, he had his own to protect.
“It doesn’t matter. I ask you to please refrain from being indecent in company.”
“Indecent?!” Trevor spluttered. “You speak as if I dropped my breeches and—”
He halted his rant with the same grace he showed when snapping his whip.
“Wait. Oh. Ohh. I understand, now.” A sly grin spread across Trevor’s face, and for a split second, Alucard understood how monsters felt when cornered by the Belmont. “You are interested in what you’re seeing, aren’t you?”
Was he that easy to read?
“Do not mock me,” he threw back, curtly and childishly, as he drew his knees closer to his chest. Which was, in retrospect of the hot stabbing of desire in his gut, the wrong move.
“Far from me to do so, my friend.” Any trace of humor evaporated as quickly as the droplets near the fire. There was the Trevor whose voice made Alucard’s heart skip a beat. “But it saddens me to see you so upset with yourself.”
He found no reason to hide himself from his friend. Those blue eyes, the color of the morning he so yearned to see again, could see right through him. It was because of that, and his increasing uneasiness at the castle looming over them, that he spoke in a shameful whisper:
“How could I not? I feel foolish. I’m disgracing our friendship by desecrating it with my nature.”
Trevor scowled at Alucard’s words, as if he was personally offended. “Short of joining your father, there is nothing you could do that would ruin our friendship.”
“Even if I feel… wanton desire?” Alucard spat like the words tasted foul.
“Even then,” Trevor nodded without a strain of hesitation. “It’s normal. And I’m flattered.”
It took all of Alucard’s willpower to not snort at Trevor’s self-satisfied chuckle. If only his laughter didn’t tug even more at his loins… if only he could appreciate his friend in a more proper way.
“Well! If you need to relieve yourself—” how could be say that so nonchalantly? “I’ll turn around and cover my ears. And I won’t tell a soul.”
“I cannot.”
“I told you, I’m not bothered…”
“I physically cannot,” Alucard deadpanned. “I need blood. That is why I pleaded you not to tempt me.”
Trevor swallowed. The subtle twitch was all too easy to spot to Alucard’s desperate senses, drawn to the sight of the bulging vein in his tense neck; he covers his growing canines behind a gloved palm, knowing too well that he acted a second too late, and Trevor saw, and how could he show his face ever again…
“Ohh. That would make sense. Well, I don’t see the problem.”
Alucard blinked in confusion at Trevor’s subdued reaction.
Then he understood, and recoiled as if he were in a carriage that stopped without warning.
“You don’t mean… No!”
“It's alright,” Trevor smiled, with that carefree, bright smile bordering on the foolish, ready to throw away his life for — for Alucard?
“I might hurt you!” he almost shrieked. Ah, too far. His hand flew to his own fangs, as he checked if he had disturbed his companions. Sypha stirred, but nothing more, so Alucard redirected his attention to his still half-nude friend. “And for what, my… sick desires?”
“For your well being,” Trevor insisted, less budging than the mountains that gave his family their namesake. With his hands propped on his knees, he leaned forward, and with his eyes shining like the droplets on his hair, he was simply stunning. “I trust you, Alucard. I hope I’m worthy of your trust, as well.”
Alucard trusted him with his own life. He simply wasn’t sure if he deserved to hold Trevor’s between his teeth.
But the molten heat kept pooling in his belly, and the more Trevor stood in front of him, so enticing, so mouthwatering, the less strength Alucard could find within him to turn away and let the urge wane on its own.
Trevor was a strong man. He could handle one bite, even the clumsy one of a hybrid. And… he wanted it. He pleaded. Alucard wouldn’t stain his soul if he indulged…
How did he find himself so quickly with Trevor’s arms wrapped around him? With the potent fragrance of blood wafting from him, his thoughts were slurring…
“I’m not used to this. I might cause you a grave wound.” Giving a last warning was the least he could do.
“My friend, we are going to fight Dracula,” he laughed softly in his ear, a sound pure enough to lift his spirits. “I will consider it part of my training.”
“Stubborn man,” Alucard muttered with all the fondness he could muster. In his embrace, Trevor accepted the compliment with a shrug and exposing the thick tendon in his throat.
Against all sense, a bestial rumble came out of Alucard’s.
Trevor was warm. Solid and strong and vibrating with life and warm for all his senses. His skin stuck on Alucard’s heavy clothes, which were supposed to protect him but felt like gossamer when pressed flush against his friend’s body. The rich smell of holiness coming from his veins ached in terrible familiarity; closing his eyelids, guided by a deep instinct squirming in his chest, Alucard unsheathed his fangs, and poked the hottest spot throbbing on Trevor’s thick neck.
And sunk.
After many days of travel, his body seized at the sudden gush of blood, wonderful hot blood pouring in sweet rivulets down his parched throat, blessed and powerful and electric; Alucard sucked and gnawed and swallowed without a thought or care that wasn’t drinking more, more, more of that, that potent fiery heat filling his stomach and gut and – oh he was pressing himself against his Trevor, melding into him, right where it burned and ached and pulsed the most, with Trevor’s own life flowing into him…
He stopped, and retreated his dripping fangs.
Not only to make sure his friend was conscious and healthy: his breath came out in ragged gasps and moans, and his skin had assumed a more ashen color, but he was fine, Alucard didn’t harm him, to which he could sigh in relief.
No, the real reason was the thing that poked him in the thigh.
“Ah,” he broke the silence. “I understand, now.”
Trevor, the charming rouser of crowds, only laughed sheepishly at their situation. Alucard couldn’t blame him. With his mood lifted by the heat thumping inside him, finding himself tangled in Trevor’s limbs and both affected by it somehow seemed to be the funniest thing ever.
“What can I say? You need blood to get going. I might prefer losing it.”
“You’re losing it, alright.” Alucard’s dry remark caused Trevor to go into another laughing fit, that thankfully he muffled in the crook of Alucard’s neck. His blood was circulating quickly, if his ears were already so hot to the touch. Should he… his long hair falling all over Alucard’s shoulders and chest…
“Uhm. Thank you nevertheless.”
Trevor lifted himself up. He had regained part of his sun-kissed complexion, and his hot breath fell on Alucard’s cheek like a caress. He was everything Alucard could only wish to be, and he hoped that this little transgression of theirs could fill him with his friend’s same strength.
“Don’t mention it. What’s a favor between friends?”
Only Trevor could make that word sound as sweet as honey. Alucard savored it together with the aftertaste of blood, and the thoughts that tented in his trousers.
Trevor shared his same profane feelings. No, Alucard couldn’t bring himself to insult his companion like that. Nothing about him could ever be as profane, or filthy, or shameful like his own reflection. His mannerisms were always so relaxed, so sure, that Alucard could not ever doubt that he was in the wrong.
So, if the two felt the same, what did it mean for Alucard? Could he push back against that gripping, choking sense of shame, through Trevor’s blood allowing him to breathe with ease?
Could he listen to a more human instinct, shouting at him to lean closer to Trevor, until he could count the eyelashes framing his dark eyes, until he could hear his heart pumping faster and faster, until…
He heard someone stirring.
Alucard jerked backwards so fast he almost toppled over.
“Make yourself decent,” he hissed, and thankfully Trevor also spotted Grant stretching before he could protest.
By the time their companion opened and rubbed his eyes with a yawn, Trevor had quickly redressed himself and looked no worse for wear. If only he stopped rubbing his neck.
“Uhh. Am I interruptin’ somethin’? Y’all were making a ruckus, now that I was finally catching a wink of sleep.”
“Not to worry! Alucard yelled my head off for falling into a river,” Trevor laughed it off, ignoring Alucard’s glare.
“…’twould be a shame to lose our strongest warrior before our battle,” he had no choice but to contribute, once again in his favorite pose with crossed arms and legs… but for more practical reasons than uncomfortableness at talking, this time.
“Hey, what am I and that other guy, chopped liver?” Grant retorted, with less bite than Alucard would have expected. He still hadn’t learned to read the thief very well. “We’ll be fine, Aluc.”
“You heard the man, Aluc. We’ll be fine. You can relax.”
“Yeah! You’re always so uptight, prince.” Before Alucard could reply that he had long lost that cursed title, Grant cut him off with another yawn: “I don’t think I can fall asleep now, so I’ll keep guard. You two go and rest, will ya?”
He nodded. Very well. He would try to… relax, as Trevor suggested with a soft smile.
Alucard kept his distance from his friend, swathed in his cape acting as a makeshift coffin. But with Trevor’s blood pumping inside his veins, the castle looming over the group didn’t feel quite as imposing, and Father’s face in the eye of his mind looked less demonic.
