Chapter Text
Of all the times he would trip up stairs with whip in hand, stumble for a bit trying to regain his balance, and then land nearly entirely on his enemy’s lap… it would be now, when Dracula is still and seated as they yelled at one another from across the room. The vampire lord had refused to make the first move, beckoning Trevor to come closer and closer, which the Belmont had until he was just steps away from the raised platform. Then bad luck happened. Great.
There’s silence, the Vampire Killer still held between his palm and the gigantic man’s chest, which didn’t affect him much it seems, being clothed and all. The threat is still there, and the hunter still could use a variety of other weapons on him to defend himself. Yet Dracula did nothing, save for stare down at him while stroking his beard. Trevor swallows hard, not finding anything witty to say at all, save for cursing in his mind at his ankles and the heeled boots he refuses to let go of. It makes him feel taller.
But compared to the ancient vampire whose lap he’s straddling, he’s still tiny.
“Belmont… for a moment I believed you were here to destroy me, with those bold words and threats of yours.” The Count begins, his other hand now wandering out of Trevor’s immediate view… and slides right on one of his thighs, just above the top of the boot leather, feeling a claw tipped thumb rub towards the inner portion.
“But now I see that you’re trying to target my affections, hm? Trying to use your body to pacify me?”
Belmont gasps, then grasps onto the Count’s cloak, yanking it back. But the vampire didn’t budge at all, it was like as if a thumb-sized individual tried to pull at a full grown human. It’s not happening and Trevor’s face shows his sudden embarrassment. Dracula looks so amused with this as he squeezes him more.
“You would like that, wouldn’t you? For me to give you my special attention?”
The Vampire Killer tumbles to the floor as its owner decides it’s better to try and pry those huge hands off of him, before he embarrassed himself further. Dracula doesn’t remove them, but relocates them, grasping gently, but firmly, around the brunet’s waist. The Belmont is in the middle of attempting to remove the knife from his boot, but of course he’s stopped. It’s almost as if he let the vampire stop him… his family would be ashamed at him, even before he began to gasp and groan through his teeth.
“Unhand me, beast! I’ll not stand to be handled in such a way by the Prince of Darkness!”
“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t come up here on your own accord. Wearing those scandalous boots and… garters? Those shouldn’t be seen, you know. People may get the wrong impression of you.”
“In the name of God I will give you a most pleasing end!”
“Oho~ I’m sure you will, Trevor Belmont.”
Trevor really, really needed to think ahead before he started mouthing off, as he gasps after shaking his head. Strands of his hair is now obscuring his vision, causing him to miss Dracula leaning down until their faces were inches apart. Once he does notice, Trevor freezes and holds his breath, feeling Dracula’s fingers go from holding the Belmont’s wrist to caress the underside of his chin and gently push up.
“You could have attacked me by now, you’re still a threat no doubt about that. But you’re here, writhing and making such delectable sounds and expressions… You’re really laying on the charm here, aren’t you, Trevor? And don’t act like you’re not wanting this too, you may fight and deny it all you want.”
Trevor doesn’t know what to say, other than to deny this, and then attempt to push against the force holding his arm. The blessed knife is going nowhere fast, though even if it was the only place it’ll hit from this angle would be way too far from the vampire’s heart to do any real damage to him. Dracula clicks his tongue and within seconds he twists Trevor’s wrist enough to wrench a small cry from him and force him to release his fingers. As the clanging of metal echoes in the chamber, Dracula closes the distance between their faces. It’s cute how Trevor had kept his mouth open in shock.
Once he feels Dracula’s tongue against his is the moment where he quickly snaps out of it and turns away.
“Teasing me now? You’re pretty good at playing hard to get, just like your forefather…” Trevor is losing this fight, one that he definitely wasn’t prepared to partake in, and now his face is as pink as a slapped bottom. He’s not going anywhere, and everything he does seemed to just make matters worse. As Dracula loosens his grip on him after lifting him up so the brunet is standing on his knees and nearly eye level with the Count now. Trevor sucks in a breath as he presses his palms against the larger man’s shoulders and accidentally tugs on the black locks of hair draping over them. Dracula takes that as a sign to rake his nails lightly down Trevor’s back, watching as the hunter makes another soft cry and curls backwards.
“Bastard… what are you doing to me?”
“Your body knows what it wants, it’s just your head getting in the way. I’ve done nothing but respond to your little advances, Belmont. And stealing a kiss of course, I assume it was your first?”
It was. And he hated that this creature took that moment away. The anger in him grew more now that he realizes that it wasn’t entirely unpleasant at first. He’ll never openly admit that to his enemy, though, not that anything got passed Dracula at this moment in time. The dark prince is right, there’s nothing Trevor can hide from him. He can’t even properly hide his exposed neck from feeling teeth against it, not piercing but just grazing. Teasing. He shudders and moves against Dracula, effectively pressing his cheek against those ebony locks.
“Just let go, hunter. I’m certain your ancestors won’t judge you for having this one moment, will they? It’ll paint them as very hypocritical, if anything.”
Hypocritical? Oh… Oh. He sure hopes that was a lie, and even if it isn’t, Trevor’s human mind is quite scrambled and quickly falling under whatever charm the vampire seems to have. Yeah, that has to be what caused this! There’s no way that he’d have any intentional role in this, not even when he finds his hands playing in Dracula’s hair absently.
“Let go, Trevor Belmont, and indulge yourself.”
And why not? Says a voice in his head. Why not just take advantage of the situation, where no one has to die (as far as he knows) and just allow this closeness that he’s never had before? His chances with anyone else may be ruined, so the brunet might as well hope to make this a good experience. So without any further prompting, coaxing or command, Trevor shifts until he’s face-to-face with the castle’s lord again. Then kisses him, completely by his own choice now, and feeling those large arms close in closer around him again.
He’ll… have to apologize to his mother in a letter. There’s no way he could face her, or even his companions waiting for him outside, ever again after this.