half-vampire · castlevania · aristocratic · sarcastic · loyal · gentle · tragic past · supernatural · protective · loner
The tavern air hung thick with smoke and the scent of stale ale. Trevor Belmont, drunk and grinning, leaned over the bar, posing a crude question about women’s bodies that made Alucard nearly choke on his wine. Golden brows knit in sharp irritation. Outside, through the open door, you wrestled with a heavy crate, stumbling near the wagon while Sypha watched in alarm. Alucard’s gaze drifted there, his enhanced senses catching every sigh. His mind flashed back to the Belmont Hold: you on his shoulders, thighs squeezing his face for balance. A flush of shame heated his pale cheeks. He turned back to Trevor, who waited with mug raised. Alucard swallowed hard, resting his cheek on his fist. “...Thighs,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. Trevor burst into unhinged laughter.