[ Alucard could’ve sworn that he could felt Dorian’s heartbeat on his tongue, running down his throat and throbbing in his stomach. A syncopated rhythm, jarring and distracting. How he longed to feel the rush of blood to match that pulse and to sink his teeth into Dorian’s thick, femoral artery. The very idea by itself was arousing.
The root of his disapproval of Dorian using that name was that it was a little too effective. He preferred the name his mother had given him, which was why being scolded with it hurt so badly. He knew this, but didn’t know how to explain it. In truth he had suspicions that Dorian could work out why it wounded him.
As he listened to Dorian chastising him the grip on both of his wrists tightened. Whilst he knew his own strength and how to use it his hold was probably beginning to border on being painful. Frustration grew in him but (to add to it) he wasn’t entirely sure why. Did this pent up ball of energy stem from his blood lust or from the cruelly astute observations Dorian was making. How infuriating it was to be psychoanalysed correctly after a few short hours of knowing him. How could Dorian have known that his monstrous facade was just that; a mask worn to protect himself.
With these feelings of frustration his rationality began to bow and from the base of his throat there was a just-audible growl, like the rumbling noise one would expect from a cornered wolf separated from its pack.
That closeness, the smell of him, his courage and intelligence. No, Alucard could no longer hold back, the cocktail of drugs in his system shaken with the adrenaline and endorphins were too much to bear. ]
You… push your luck!
[ He finally responded, his words a violent hiss.
Both hands released Dorian’s wrists to instead find the elegant angle of his jaw. But this was no forceful hold, he didn’t drag him in abrasively, if anything he was cradling his face. An uncharacteristically gentle gesture, considering how he’d acted today.
Which was ruined by the following kiss. Alucard’s lips crashed into Dorian’s, his mouth ripe with the lingering taste of his blood, lips hot and hungry. Another first, inexperience hidden under unbridled passion and lust. As much as he wanted to taste his blood, he also wanted to taste him without injury. His eyes closed as that feeling light-headed attraction filled his thoughts. Dorian was lovely, and here he was ruining him.
He had to silence him, to stop those cutting, accurate words from reaching him. ]
no subject
The root of his disapproval of Dorian using that name was that it was a little too effective. He preferred the name his mother had given him, which was why being scolded with it hurt so badly. He knew this, but didn’t know how to explain it. In truth he had suspicions that Dorian could work out why it wounded him.
As he listened to Dorian chastising him the grip on both of his wrists tightened. Whilst he knew his own strength and how to use it his hold was probably beginning to border on being painful. Frustration grew in him but (to add to it) he wasn’t entirely sure why. Did this pent up ball of energy stem from his blood lust or from the cruelly astute observations Dorian was making. How infuriating it was to be psychoanalysed correctly after a few short hours of knowing him. How could Dorian have known that his monstrous facade was just that; a mask worn to protect himself.
With these feelings of frustration his rationality began to bow and from the base of his throat there was a just-audible growl, like the rumbling noise one would expect from a cornered wolf separated from its pack.
That closeness, the smell of him, his courage and intelligence. No, Alucard could no longer hold back, the cocktail of drugs in his system shaken with the adrenaline and endorphins were too much to bear. ]
You… push your luck!
[ He finally responded, his words a violent hiss.
Both hands released Dorian’s wrists to instead find the elegant angle of his jaw. But this was no forceful hold, he didn’t drag him in abrasively, if anything he was cradling his face. An uncharacteristically gentle gesture, considering how he’d acted today.
Which was ruined by the following kiss. Alucard’s lips crashed into Dorian’s, his mouth ripe with the lingering taste of his blood, lips hot and hungry. Another first, inexperience hidden under unbridled passion and lust. As much as he wanted to taste his blood, he also wanted to taste him without injury. His eyes closed as that feeling light-headed attraction filled his thoughts. Dorian was lovely, and here he was ruining him.
He had to silence him, to stop those cutting, accurate words from reaching him. ]