Chapter Text
Within the dark forest, a guttural shout reverberates against tall trees in the endless shadows. Grunts, obscenities, and colliding bodies taunt one another. This is their battleground. Where grievances can be aired without consequences. Mutual territory outside of Dracula's Castle and the Belmont Hold, where no claims can be staked.
A loud crack of a whip in the distance breaks Sypha's concentration away from the stew she's attempting to prepare. Chopping away at potatoes, she thinks nothing of it until she hears a loud roar echo all the way into the kitchen, startling her. "This can't be good." Throwing the remaining bits of food into the pot, she sets the contents to simmer while she tries to locate the source of the commotion. She makes her way through the castle until she finds herself outside, looking into the darkness. It isn't until she hears familiar voices that she deduces it's another friendly scuffle transpiring.
The decomposed remains of Sumi and Taka stay displayed on pikes just outside the castle doors. Dried blood remains beautifully embedded in the cobblestone footpath. It was to be an omen; a warning. Danger. It only serves as a relic of Alucard's anguish. His own personal reminder to never be so fucking stupid ever again.
The smell emanating from the decayed corpses waned slightly. Just enough to keep one's stomach from emptying its contents anyway. The stench no longer reaches the castle doors, for which, Sypha and Trevor were most grateful.
The monuments only serve as emblems of his greatest shame. His brokenness and guilt. They understand he needs to grieve on his own terms.
Dracula's descendant is many things. Strong.
Intelligent. A kindness that resembles his mother's. And most important - a fierce killer. For everything Alucard is, a human heart still beats in his chest. He isn't immune to pain and suffering. It takes time for resentment to fade.
Looking towards the trees, Sypha's greeted with silence. It's strange. Unsettling given the circumstances. She conjures a flame and waits.
Her concentration is severed when something speeds past her quicker than her eyes can detect.
A glint of metal shines against silvery, lambent moonlight. Weapons have been drawn. Meaning blood will probably be spilled...
Right now, she's hoping Trevor and Alucard don't actually plan on literally murdering each other. They'll both come crawling back bearing combat wounds. Trevor will at least. Alucard heals rapidly and will unlikely have evidence of any harm done.
"Why must these imbeciles stoop to such barbaric games?"
It's a cheeky utterance, one merely mumbled under her breath.
"I heard that you know." A mischievous echo chimes from the dark.
"Perfect. You were supposed to!"
Of course Alucard heard. Secrets aren't necessarily kept, but there's no point in trying to hide things when one of your roommates possesses inhuman abilities like this.
"Just don't kill each other!"
"We won't!"
Trevor finally makes himself known. "There you are... Now that I know you're both still alive, I shall leave you to your... game."
Sypha doesn't quite understand it. Why the refined dhampir and the unabashed hunter resort to antagonizing each other to such magnitudes. She amasses emotional vicissitudes is why their persons continuously reach for each other in some aspect. Inflated egos would never confess such delicate matters, but the Mage knows better. The human condition and the need for connection. Sypha knows all too well.
It began with small barbs at first before advancing to grander insults; a never-ending game of cat-and-mouse evolved into an emotionally charged obsession so visceral, so vexing, and so utterly vile, only a fool could miss such blatantly obvious clues.
It wasn't long before the physical blows throughout the castle settled into Alucard's bedroom one fateful night.
It took a solitary night to ignite the flames. No amount of beatings or duels will lessen the ache that remains when one denies the heart of what it desires.
Dhampir and hunter; the star-crossed lovers.
She smiles knowingly to herself listening to the sounds of rustling leaves before hurrying back inside...
Listening to the slow, footfalls of Trevor's cat-like steps, the dhampir quietly follows his trail.
A lingering trail of Trevor's putrid stench against the bark of nearby trees signifies his path. Following the scent of something akin to a boar's asshole, Alucard discerns he's on the hunter's grimey chode. He's so close, he can hear his heart pounding in his chest.
His heartbeat composes a beautiful melody when in the throes of warfare.
A clink of a chain echoes above where Trevor's scent ended.
His brows furrow as sweat collects above his lip. When he hears swift footsteps approaching beneath his poor hiding spot, a shit-eating grin plasters across his face. He must act quickly to gain advantage. He's not giving his quarry the opportunity to strike first.
"I know where you're hiding asshole..."
Disappearing from sight, he disperses into a grey mist drifting lazily low to the ground waiting for his prey to make a wrong move.
Carefully stepping onto a seemingly sturdy branch, Trevor quickly shifts his entire weight onto the bough. A sudden snap is heard before he quickly plummets towards the ground.
Before his body makes contact with the earth below, a firm grip around his throat breaks his fall. Golden eyes bore into icy blue. A satisfied smirk etched into the dhampir's sculpted features.
"You seem to be losing your touch, Belmont."
Bringing his knees up quickly, he dislodges with a kick to Alucard's midsection, knocking them both back from the force.
"Not exactly."
"Like a graceful ballerina. Cute."
"Dick."
"Fuck you."
Without missing a breath, each is upright, grasping their weapons.
Alucard's lithe fingers firmly clasp the hilt of his sword, raising it to his face. He holds it even, always level to the nose. Just as his father always instructed him to.
Trevor, with the Morning Star whip in one hand and a short sword in the other, he wastes no time lunging towards his target.
Trevor is partial for the leg sweeps. While Alucard prefers more hands on contact.
Several broken trees and possibly a few broken bones later, things become personal when they decide to forgo weapons completely.
Trevor throws the dhampir against the now near castle, leaving a slight niche from the force of impact.
"Getting tired already, cockrag?"
"Just getting started, fuckmouth."
Exhaustion takes hold but it doesn't stop the hunter from going full force towards the dhampir. Alucard doesn't exercise any restraint and knocks Trevor flat on his back, holding him down with minimal effort.
Sitting astride his lower body, his arms are outstretched, with his hands curled around Trevor's throat. Applying just enough pressure to make his squirm. To feel his pulse jump in his palms.
Even on the precipice of defeat, Trevor forbids to surrender.
A rogue fist to the face makes Alucard irritated. But gives him a certain gusto.
Before he could land another hit, Trevor's wrist is caught mid-swing and pinned down beside his head. Not one to accept failure, with all his strength, he attempts to deliver one final blow. With fangs bared, Alucard clutches his fist and slams it down, pinning the hunter beneath him.
Exhaustion has set in. Only panting is shared within the silence.
Shifting his knees, he lowers down onto Trevor's hips. Trevor wants to protest but there's no denying the unmistakable rager he's sporting. A muted groan slips his lips feeling the weight of Alucard's body nestled upon his own. The dhampir surely feels his cock protruding against his ass. He loosens the grips of his hands, leaving his palms open, giving Trevor some leverage for an escape attempt. Maintaining eye contact, it's clear that neither will falter. Neither wants to.
The gravitational pull can't be denied. Scorching and tumultuous like a solar flare releasing itself from the sun's wrath, their desire is also too powerful to be controlled forever.
Senses heightened; frenzied ravenous eyes meticulously trace every curve, every pulse point. He envisions lapping at the salt of his skin before piercing the delicately scarred flesh with his teeth, allowing himself the pleasure of losing control as he swallowed mouthfuls of Trevor's warm blood. Would a taste sate the hunger that burns within him? Would it suddenly abate the heaviness that encumbers his darkened, frail soul?
Perhaps it wouldn't. Though the notion pervades all logical thoughts. This is addiction in its purest, basic form.
Alucard lowers his face to meet Trevor's. Startling him, he closely inspects his features, making him feel naked under the scrutiny. Inching closer, the dhampir runs the bridge of his nose along the shell of his ear, inhaling the heady scent of his tousled brunette hair.
Trevor's musky scent evokes a sense of excitement and dare he say, solace.
He needs to touch him. To taste him. The Belmont's scent permeates his thoughts. It's evocative and he struggles to breathe against it.
The scrape of teeth awakens every nerve in Trevor's body. Is this fucking bastard going to bite me? He wouldn't object if he attempted to. How pathetic.
There's nearly a feeling of betrayal when he braces himself but nothing occurs.
Instead, he feels soft lips trailing open-mouthed kisses along his jawline.
The faintest brush of lips against his mouth tests the threshold of restraint; ragged breath lands hotter than the portal to hell against alabaster skin.
Boundaries are oftentimes tested and crossed.
This isn't about winning or losing.
It's discipline. It's control.
Eyes bore into one another. Intense. Wanting.
Seeking answers to questions neither will ask.
Can you lull the disquiet that settled in my subconsciousness?
Can you quell the unrelenting storm ravaging my soul?
They look as if they know what the other is offering.
Sypha, with her incredible timing, ruins the moment by shouting about supper being finished and washing up any blood before coming to the table.
"I suppose we could resume things later."
The implications of the statement aren't unnoticed.
Hoisting himself off Trevor and helping the hunter to his feet, they dust themselves off and in a final act of defiance, Trevor reaches down to grab the knife hidden in his boot. Just as he's about to strike, the dhampir's sword is already aimed at the base of his throat.
Alucard smiles at Trevor's obvious annoyance.
"Remember asshole, the night is still young."
"I'm aware. And right now, I'm not the one with a blade to my throat. Your life is literally in my hands."
It stirs many emotions. And causes his cock to twitch suddenly.
"Now, kneel..."