hidden relationship—

[enya]

hidden relationship; The fact that you're in a relationship with this person isn't public knowledge. Actually, no one knows about it except for the people involved. Maybe you guys are just private like that; on the other hand, it may be a necessity to keep things a secret from others. Maybe you're both team mates, and others on the team would give you grief, or you're not supposed to be dating, or you're not the type to usually date and you're only testing the waters. Perhaps it's the combination of you two, possibly an odd couple, that would bring some controversy or some teasing. Or, you know, you could not want to deal with friends and relatives being busybodies. Your reasons are your own. Are you content with stealing moments to be together as a couple? Do you want to make your relationship known and the fact that you can't drives you batty? Remember, there are lots of benefits to dating in secret. You can be yourselves completely, away from prying eyes, and get to know each other better as potential longterm romantic partners. In a way, it's ideal. ...still, do you ever wish you could scream from the rooftops how much you care for your significant other? how to play. Comment with your character, preferences, and information. Reply to others. Play out stolen moments (◡‿◡✿), secret dates (◕‿◕✿), secret handholding (⊙‿⊙✿), and secret kissing ( /)w(\✿)!

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[heavywhip]

( beastly — well, that sure is one way to put it, isn't it? he's been called worse. a hell of a lot worse by the vampire himself, and every little insult just goes rolling off of his shoulders like water off a duck's back, turned back around on him again and again until there are very few words left between them, minimal space between mouths that bite both figuratively and literally.

and, more often than not someone is just as likely to come at him instead of his vampire companion — acquaintance — whatever the fuck he is just because he's gone and said something offensive, or sarcastic, or both all in one breath and pissed them off well enough to merit a bullet or two being aimed at the middle of his forehead. it's his luck, really, and he goes about making it for himself without even thinking of changing his ways, because he's always been like this, what's the fucking point in jumping through hoops now?

he's never really cared all that much if he offends someone. likely, they deserve it. whether they want to believe that or not.

( they never do, but that's never been his problem. )

there are more reasons than just one for why they share the same space more often than they don't, most of which have a lot to do with trevor ( begrudgingly ) acknowledging that he needs the vampire's help when it comes to extinguishing some nuisance of the night or another, and no, he might not have been able to go after dracula himself but that's still far off enough in the future that he doesn't care to think that far ahead, and … some of which have a bit to do with how easily they fall into bed together, even if it's with all those sharp angles and edges that do more damage than they don't.

he's always been a goddamned fool. it's just one more thing that isn't about to change anytime soon.

they play games to keep themselves and each other interested, and this one might get a little carried away with putting on airs when they're seen together in public, and maybe he takes a particular sort of joy in ruining some of those articles of clothing that have passed through decades they were never meant to — a rip here, a tear there, a scowl on the vampires face that washes him in a twisted sort of delight whether he wants to admit it or not — but it's never without consequence, a price he's willing to pay just to get under that pale skin and rile him up.

he sniffs, a sharp inhale as he watches the other settle, only closing the distance once all that hair is piled up on top of his head and out of the way, coming up to brace his hands on either arm of that chair and leaning in until he's in alucard's personal space, smirking at him like the smug bastard he has a tendency to be. )

I know that, but no one else does. ( he muses against his mouth, bold as ever. ) And you're still pouting. It's just a fucking shirt.

[cruciform]

( there are times when alucard feels like putting his fist right through trevor — and not in the good way, if you're into that sort of thing. usually it's when he's running off at the mouth, leaking like a sieve that has no stopper. which is, unfortunately, all too often. trevor never really learned (or perhaps he just isn't one to care? alucard doesn't know and doesn't care enough to debate it with himself or to bother asking) how to: a.) have a proper conversation, and b.) read the room and know when to shut his bloody mouth.

that's why they argue.

that's also why alucard loves shutting him up in other ways. (though, rest assured, the violent ones are pretty fun, too.)

as much as he'd like him to stop any incessant nattering, he also doesn't feel like giving into him just yet. it's easy for a creatin to not care one iota about clothing, but there's history in certain things. alucard doesn't exactly own troves of personal effects — not after how things went with his parents and his father went very well off the deep end. but, that is neither here nor there and certainly not something alucard wants to get into. humans are annoying and have no grasp of anything until it's too late.

anyway.

he remains defiant and doesn't move any closer, though he doesn't shift away, either. if trevor wants something, he's going to have to work for it. seems bitch mode has been activated. )

Not everyone hates vampires. ( many do, though. even if the majority of the vampire population keeps to themselves, but there's always the ones who are louder than others and make things harder on everyone else. he sniffs, frowns. ) That aside, I'm not pouting, more annoyed at your obvious disregard for my personal effects. We can't all feel our best in ( he lifts a hand that slips beneath the hem of trevor's shirt, his nail skims over his skin as the shirt bunches up against the palm of his hand, ) filthy clothes that haven't been washed in a month.

[heavywhip]

( trust that there are always going to be instances in which either or both of them would rather throw hands than anything else — but that's just come to be part of the charm of their rapport, how they both push and enable one another into slinking past those boundaries and into triggering territory.

that's how they've always been, it's how they're always going to be, trevor has long since realized that and he's fine with it, because what good is a bloody vampire if you can't have a little fun with him every once in a while?

he can never be bothered to read a room, or to keep from running his mouth to the point of it getting him into trouble but it's never the sort of thing that he can't get himself out of, never the sort of thing that he hadn't wanted in a way from the start, to get the blood pumping and make him remember why he does this kind of bullshit to begin with.

to break up the monotony of it. life. between one drink and the next, when he's mostly sober, or at least closer to that instead of bordering on blackout. he needs reminders.

alucard is one of those, and a good one.

even if he'll never come close to admitting that sort of thing out loud. wouldn't want to give the bastard anything to hold over his head that he doesn't already have in spades.

he hums in the back of his throat — and it's more of a purr, really, low and deep, rumbling as his gaze dips to take in the way that hand slips beneath his shirt, bunches in the fabric, and he presses into it just a little bit, the tiniest bit. always pushing those boundaries.

because if alucard doesn't rise to him immediately, he has no choice but to leave him no other options. ) Last week, I'll have you know. ( was when he washed this last, so fuck you, you prissy bitch. ) Or maybe the week before … can't remember. ( it's all just for show, because of the way alucard's expression wrinkles at the implication, and he delights in it every single goddamn time. ) Point is, you are pouting, whether or not you want to pretend you aren't. ( a beat.

and he just sliiides down into his lap like he belongs there. hello, hipster sloot, how u doin. ) What's it gonna take to get you to stop?

[cruciform]

( in the end, it doesn't matter if trevor never says anything aloud — or alucard for that matter — because they don't need to say anything at all. the fact is more than obvious that they care for one another that words aren't really required. at least, not at this point in their "odd couple" relationship. alucard doesn't need words to hold anything over trevor's head (though, trust that he has enough of those to do just that), because his actions always speak louder.

true to form, alucard does wrinkle his nose in distaste, but to be fair: he does it a lot when it comes to trevor and his grooming habits.

or lack thereof.

(thousands of years old and he's the one picking up after a spoilt brat of an entirely different quality.)

he makes a soft sound as trevor slides into his lap and thinks very seriously about just shoving him off. because he could if he wanted to. but, well, he doesn't want to. instead he withdraws his hands and lets them settle against trevor's hips for a moment, his fingers drumming absently as he thinks. )

I don't know...

( except, it's said in way that makes it very clear he does know. also a sign he's going to do something that may or may not cause an argument. one side of his mouth lifts in a smug smirk and within just mere seconds, he rips trevor's shirt right down the middle from collar to hem. that smirk becomes a little sharper. )

Well... ( his palm presses flat against trevor's chest, enjoying the warmth from his skin. ) I suppose that's a start.

[heavywhip]

( words have never been their strong suit and he knows it — well, knows it on his own part, that's for sure — and yeah, it might not matter if neither of them ever get around to putting those aforementioned words to whatever it is they have together.

trevor knows he cares beyond what he tries to convey on the surface, or perhaps more appropriately what he tries to keep beneath it, and he might just have an inkling that alucard does, too. two peas in a pod of denial that neither of them care to get out of, and he's just fine with that.

there's a small moment in which he wants to press into the drum of those fingers, the smallest bit of movement to press them that much closer together but it doesn't last long, because it never does and even as it dawns on him that he's about to be minus one ( 1 ) shirt, he can only hone in on the sharpness of those nails and the marks they're capable of leaving.

he's got a one-track mind most of the time, what can he say?

to his credit, he makes a pretty grand show of scowling down at the other's handiwork, huffing out a sigh as calloused fingers catch the ripped edges of fabric and let them fall back where they were, brows knit above hooded eyes because sometimes he might just get off on that blatant strength, all right? sometimes it's hot.

right this second, though: ) Bastard … that was my favorite shirt. ( but it he rolling his shoulders to remove it from his person? yep. and is he flexing just a bit as he goes? yep.

he leans in close after that, speaking against alucard's mouth like he has every right to be there. ) Helluva start, if you ask me. What else are you going to ruin?

[cruciform]

( unfortunately, they know each other well enough to know where they stand. words aren't necessary, it's true. in fact, it might just complicate things if one of them decides to just spout something unnecessary off because one of them might not be ready to hear it.

so, this sort of thing is fine. it's Fine.

alucard grins, sharp and feral as he sees the annoyance settle on trevor's face. it's not true annoyance, he can tell that much, and while that would definitely give him a little more glee in this destruction, this is just fine for now. it means the mood isn't ruined and they can proceed as they are.

and, besides, he knows that isn't really his favorite shirt. and if it is, one: alucard doesn't really care, and b.) he likes a particular red one on him instead and by default that should be his favorite because it's alucard's favorite.

as trevor moves in closer, alucard tips his head enough so he can lip along the sharp edge of his jawline for a moment, dragging his teeth that end in a small pinch at his chin. he hums a soft laugh against his skin as his hands move over trevor's body (because yes, he saw that ridiculous flexing and enjoyed it enough to want to touch him), then curls his fingers enough so his nails drag lightly over his skin. )

You.

[heavywhip]

( it's fine, it's fine, it's more than fine —

more because this one is worse with those words than alucard ever will be, and maybe it's the difference in their upbringing that makes a difference at the bottom of it, but.

suffice it to say that neither of them will really be prepared to listen to the words given over, if they're ever given, because there's a certain amount of comfort, of reassurance that comes from being blissfully ignorant.

maybe willfully so, but we'll never tell. never in a million years.

there are moments that he's truly irritated — annoyed, whatever — with something the other does, but now isn't one of those times, and it shows in the way he makes short work of removing the ruined fabric from his person, scowling just for show. because ninety percent of what he does is for show, and he won't be able to deny it, now or anytime in the future.

( it might not be his favorite shirt, more because he doesn't have a favorite of those to begin with but he may or may not be privy to the idea the other prefers a certain color on him, and when it all comes down to it?

it is his favorite, whether he chooses to admit to it or not. mostly because he has a preference for how he ends up covered in it, but that's neither here nor there. )

nails drag, and he can't quite contain the shiver that comes from it, his own chuckle bubbling up from somewhere behind his ribs at the response he gets for his question. ) Me? ( he asks, and for all it sounds like a challenge in its own right, it also sounds like something of a plea, because hey —

do your fucking worst. ) Better get started, then, hadn't you?

[cruciform]

( now isn't the time to be annoyed, and alucard isn't particularly working on that. normally he would, but right now he wants them both to enjoy themselves. isn't that what this is all about, why they're even here in the first place: enjoyment. it's not like they have something so droll as feelings.

he feels that shiver more than he sees it and that brings a slight smirk to his lips. the antagonizing question from trevor makes his heartbeat pulse in his groin as his dick fills to press against the confines of his ridiculously tight pants. that simply won't do, will it?

while they have utterly desecrated literally every last inch of furniture in the living room, this isn't where alucard wants to stay. the chair is fine for a quick romp, but that isn't — exactly — his goal for the evening. so, he decides in an instant what he's gonig to do, knowing it's just a little bit extra, but hey, that's alucard. so, leave him alone.

the flash of teeth in his smile before he moves is a danger on its own, so trevor may expect something but, well. alucard is a vampire and significantly faster and stronger than mortals. so, he moves quickly, scooping trevor right off of his feet (if he holds him like a sack of potatos, well, that's his own business) and goes to the bedroom... where he drops trevor heavily onto the bed.

alucard is already removing his shirt (carefully, tbh) and peeling out of the rest of his clothes. )

Get undressed, unless you'd prefer I do it.

( which means, for those who might be new here, that he'll shred them. )

[heavywhip]

( he might have been fine, staying where they started, more because he isn't all that picky when it comes to where they fuck than anything else but it really. isn't all that surprising when the other is dissatisfied, and makes the choice to move them.

not that he'd been expecting to be carried like a fucking sack of potatoes, but it's alucard and he's about as extra as they come when it all comes down to it, and the only thing he gives is a deep-set grunt and an i have legs, you know as he's hoisted in the direction of the bedroom. and dropped unceremoniously on the bed.

y'all think he's rude? this blond asshole might just take that title for the moment, if only because he's still being extra about getting what he wants.

trevor pretends to grumble under his breath but there's absolutely nothing real behind it, and he catches himself watching the other peel out of his clothes like he's making a goddamn spectacle of it ( which wouldn't have been a surprise in the slightest, we'll have you know ), eyes dragging over the lines of muscle beneath pale skin that don't even begin to honor the strength in that lean body.

he almost hates how attractive it is, how attractive he is in the simplest of ways, and it has him rolling his eyes just a little as he reaches to pull off boots, let them fall to the floor and to proceed to make a show of hooking his thumbs into his waistband and dragging his pants down low on his hips. )

I don't need anything else shredded, thanks. ( he smirks, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. ) I'm a big boy, I can undress myself.

( trevor, no. )

[cruciform]

( sometimes they're both just too tall for fucking on the chair. alucard is all legs and torso, so sometimes — flexible though he may be — it's difficult for him to get comfortable when in a smaller space. to say nothing of trevor's... length.

heh.

which, speaking of...

alucard lets his eyes roam over trevor's body settling on that hard line of his cock and his mouth practically waters. he doesn't know why he's suddenly feeling insatiable, but he is and trevor really needs to get with the program and get those clothes off and stop teasing him. )

Yes, ( he smirks, his voice is a purr as he steps closer to the bed, ) you are a big boy, aren't you?

( ah. see? alucard can be nice sometimes when he wants to be. because that definitely was a compliment about his cock. he can't decide if he wants it in his mouth or elsewhere first. well—

why not both?

alucard sinks down to his knees in a fluid motion, pulling off trevor's clothes along the way. he doesn't rip them, though he does consider it. his nails graze over his skin, though, almost like a threat. they get thrown to the side with one hand while the other curls around his cock, stroking him firm, but slow. his gaze is practically molten as he looks up at trevor as he moves in to get his mouth around just the tip, alreading teasing his tongue along the slit. )

[heavywhip]

( and sometimes, really, despite a willingness to fuck on any available surface at any given time — sometimes you just want to be able to stretch out in a real bed, have the sort of room you need to not have to worry about cramping up in the very middle and ruining the whole goddamn thing.

even if, of course it goes without saying that trevor will always let the other gets his hands on him wherever and whenever he wants, especially when he goes so far as to be nice about it for a change.

( just kidding. their back and forth banter is something he would never change for anything in the entire world, it's what makes them them and if you take that away, what would be left? )

that comment has his entire body flushing with heat, something entirely voluntary and something he sometimes grates against because it shouldn't be so easy, he shouldn't be so fucking easy for a prissy vampire that's more often a pain in his ass than he isn't, but those eyes on him, the way his expression shifts into something even more wanting has him moving a little bit more quickly to get rid of unwanted clothing.

even if that seems like kind of a moot point, because there he is, sliding to his knees at the edge of the bed and making short work of them without tearing anything else, and. wow, he's kind of impressed. just kind of.

he gets as far as bracing himself on his elbows before that mouth is on him, the slick heat closing around just the head and it brings a startled, wanting sort of sound from him, a grating, deep moan as one hand immediately reaches to curl fingers into thick hair, just for something to hold on to. ) Fuck, if that was what you wanted, you should've just said—

( now now, trevor. don't let your mouth get you in trouble while alucard's is on your dick. he'll either stop or threaten to bite … or both, and you don't want that, do you? )