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It was not only an inconvenience, but also inexplicably awkward as hell, Trevor thinks. But he'd landed himself in this dilemma, what with his wayward tendencies of blowing all his coin on a slew of drinks. If only he'd had just a bit more self control, he could perhaps be sleeping alone, in his own room for the night.
Having Alucard lying in a bed next to him is far from any possibility he'd ever considered. It's like a fever dream, a product of an illness that's raged for far too long. He's expecting to wake up and realize that they've had to spend another night out in the wilderness, but for as much as Trevor keeps pinching himself, it doesn't seem to be happening anytime soon. He's already inched himself to the very edge of the bed, and turned his back pointedly towards the vampire - excuse him, dhampir - in the hopes of lessening how uneasy he feels. But it's like plugging his ears and closing his eyes while pretending that Gresit isn't a dying sinkhole.
Alucard, thankfully, had made no comment on the situation, and he seems more than willing to try and keep space between the two of them. He mirrors Trevor's posture, but he doesn't hug his side of the bed to the extremity that Trevor does. The only thing that he'd removed prior to falling asleep - and Trevor really hopes he's asleep - was his cloak and coat. He still sports the white undershirt, and all the items of his lower half, but it's still nearly too much for the hunter.
For God's sake, they'd only known each other for a few days. Trevor can't even sleep comfortably with his closest friends, let alone a creature of the night. It's like curling up next to a rabid wolf and hoping that they don't decide to tear into you while you sleep. Even now, Trevor has to fight down the urge to completely cover himself up, like a child hiding from a raging thunderstorm. He feels too exposed, and the problem isn't that there's a monster underneath his bed, but rather in it.
For what feels like hours, he stares with a growing headache at the ragged curtains that cover the dust stained window. It feels as though his body is a cord pulled tight, ready to snap at the first sign of danger. His muscles are strained with how long he's been tensing them, and his eyes burn with the need for sleep. The room is a bit on the cooler side, reflecting the chill of the late autumn season, and Alucard’s icy presence next to him does his body no favors. He can feel his skin turning into gooseflesh.
It must be halfway through the night before sleep finally claims him, and it's only once his eyes have quite literally fell shut against his will that it happens. Trevor is at first thankful for the small mercy, but as quick as he’d fallen asleep, it feels as though he's being shocked awake by something curling at his side. He doesn't jump, but he feels his heart skip a beat, and his pulse hammers wildly at the intrusion.
His mind is still fuzzy with fatigue and recent sleep, however, because the more lenient side of him is telling him that it's nothing of concern, and he should really go back to sleep. So Trevor obeys, or at least tries to, but a few moments of comfortable existence are once against disturbed by something curling further around his waist, no longer just a weight against his hip.
Trevor grumbles out a soft slew of words that aren't actually quite words, but rather jumbled messes of noise. He feels a pang of annoyance shoot through him briefly, but he merely shifts a little, and settles once more, the weight still wrapped about his waist, but slightly more welcome now.
Minutes pass with no extra movement, and Trevor is nearly lulled to sleep once more, but then something does move, and this time, it's not at his waist, but instead a solid, cool form curling against his back. That startles him into a more coherent state, and his eyes open blearily, ready to search for whatever was pressed against him. But the opportunity never comes to turn, because he's stunned into disability by what he feels next.
There's a gust of something cool at the back of his neck, just damp enough to be considered a breath. Trevor’s veins run cold with realization, his eyes widening to alarmed degrees, because oh God no, there was no way that Alucard had snuggled up to him during his fucking sleep. The world can't possibly be that cruel. Worse yet, Trevor is suddenly so stunned and petrified that he can't even bring himself to move. The thought of jumping out of bed or shoving Alucard away, only to have to deal with what will inevitably be an awkward fallout does not pass as a good idea to him. So he prays silently that the dhampir will eventually roll away, or at least stop breathing against his skin. The thought of having those fangs so close to his pulse point doesn't help matters either.
Well, goodbye sleep, because there's no way in hell that he's finding it anytime soon. Not with a monster curled around him like some sort of sick parody of a lover. God, why not Sypha? Why not the perfectly human, if not a little naive, woman in their group? Oh yes, of course. She wanted her own bed, and now Trevor is left to contend with the bloodsucker who seemingly has a soft spot for cuddling in his sleep. Wonderful, really.
It would have been enough just to put up with the fact that Alucard was so unnervingly close, but apparently God thinks otherwise, because Trevor can feel the man nuzzling against the back of his shoulder, his nose skimming along the curve of it before meeting the warmed flesh of the side of his neck. His arms curl tighter around him, circling over his chest to pull the hunter back, and Trevor swears that he must be as still as a statue, because there's not a single muscle in his body that isn't tensed right now.
He nearly does jump away when he feels the outline of Alucard's lips meeting his skin, his head must having turned at some point. It's here that Trevor feels his blood run even colder, and a sweat breaks out at his hairline, because now there exists the possibility for something foul to happen. It could be any number of things, but if it involves Alucard’s lips and mouth, it probably isn't good.
Yet, he still remains frozen, unable to will himself to move. It must be sick curiosity at this point, because there's no other reasoning to explain it.
When he feels the light press and suction of a kiss, it's as though his heart has skipped a beat, and Trevor has to suck in a deep breath to settle the hard thump against his ribcage. His fingers curl into fists, and his stomach grows tight and light with apprehension. But there he remains, still as ever, with a masochistic sort of curiosity willing him to wait and see what happens.
Indeed, it grows worse, because that kiss turns into the wet, cold slide of a tongue, and suddenly it's less about jumping out of his skin, and more about containing any sort of mortifying noise that may escape him and wake Alucard. His neck is the victim of a series of open mouthed presses of affection, and the barely there scrape of teeth that are much too long. And, to Trevor's growing horror at the situation and himself, he finds his body reacting positively to it, with the barest twinges of excitement stirring in his stomach and groin.
His neck is tender and damp with the promise of light bruises, and the exhaustion he'd felt before is slowly being replaced with an unwelcome wave of arousal at the whole ordeal. Trevor pales to think of what his ancestors would think of him currently, both unwittingly and wittingly spooned by the son of his worst enemy, and at the wonderful mercy of his mouth.
It eventually becomes less a fight of trying not to enjoy it, and more of a weary resignation to just lie there and appreciate the sinful affections. Trevor is no stranger to scavenging the good out of a bad situation, and this is no different. Well… kind of. It'll still leave a sour taste in his mouth in the morning, and he's sure he won't be able to look Alucard in the eye for at least a week.
A particularly hard press of tongue and teeth has him nearly whimpering, his neck already overstimulated and singing with nerves alight. Trevor’s eyes screw shut, and his mouth parts on an almost silent, breathy moan, because good lord, Alucard is unknowingly good with his administrations. It seems as though it can't get any better than that, but of course, Trevor should have expected otherwise, because it takes a dive, simultaneously, for the better and the worse.
He feels the press of fangs against his skin, harder and harder, and his eyes wrench open with shock at the feel of it giving away, letting the teeth slide deep into his neck, pervading his veins. Trevor bites his lip, hard, almost enough to draw blood himself, because the sting that accompanies the bite is sharp and burning, and besides the pain itself, there's a growing sense of horror at being bitten. He did not expect that.
Still, the only movement offered is the slight twitch of his body, and Alucard seems intent to hold him right where he is, because his leg hitches over the hunter's waist and curls about him possessively. The dhampir sucks greedily at his neck, mouthing slowly and sensually at the wound, with only a few drops leaking past the corners of his lips. And the pain isn't quite pain anymore, Trevor thinks, because the burning fades into a soft throb, and that throb slowly bleeds into something pleasant and engulfing. It's like liquid heat traveling down his body, warming his fingers and toes and making him curl them in upon each other.
As quick as the heat comes, so does the raw pleasure, and Trevor finds himself pressing back against Alucard, his head canting enough to offer the dhampir more of his neck. His breath comes in short, ragged huffs, his nerves singing with euphoria, and Trevor likens it to an orgasm with how the pleasure seems to stab at him in languid waves. It takes an insurmountable amount of will to try and stay quiet, and he damn near stuffs his fist into his mouth to silence himself. He instead bites at his knuckles, and burns will all the shame of his current predicament, and the afterglow that doesn't seem to want to go away.
He knew the night would be odd, but this is just a hundred shades of fucked up.
And Alucard, who still feeds from him with all the gentleness in the world, adds fuel to the fire with his little throaty moans of desire. His tongue lathes over the bite wound, over and over, drawing every drop of blood into his mouth. Trevor can't suppress the shudder that wracks his body at the sensation, and the barest of whimpers sounds past his clenched teeth.
Then, all too soon, Alucard is drawing away, his hands sliding back over Trevor's waist, and the feeling of his chest against Trevor's back fades. The bed sinks with the weight of a body turning over, and from his spot on the edge, Trevor can hear the smacking lips behind him, like an animal after a messy meal. The hunter remains locked on his side, his body still thrumming lightly with pleasure, but he can feel himself coming down now, like the waves of an orgasm receding. He lets loose a terribly shaky breath, his muscles unclenching and leaving him feeling ragged and worn. Or, perhaps it was the blood loss, but Trevor couldn't tell.
Expectedly, he does not sleep at all that night, doesn't even allow his hand to touch at the sensitive wound on his neck that must be black and purple with bruising. If anything, he spends the rest of the night feeling pent up, mortified at himself and seething, because holy shit, that should have never happened. And he should not have enjoyed it as much as he did. But God, would it be a lie to say that Alucard’s bite wasn't intoxicating and downright blissful. Or just his mouth in general.
Trevor’s mind drifts to sinuous, awful things, and he prays that God have mercy on him for his sudden, terrible desires.