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Fools in Need

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Trevor was absolutely, clearly and wholeheartedly sure that it would be easier to hate the stupid vampire they had adopted. Or, rather, who had adopted them. He acted like their leader, high and mighty and sure of himself when Trevor would rather drink and fuck the world who would stop him, and Sypha had never been so far from her people. Adrian knew who they were and what they had to do, and the consequences it would have. Trevor wanted to hate him. Oh, it would be so easy. He slept while his father formed the night hordes. He spoke with an intelligence that didn't just border on pretension, it bathed in it. And on top of it all he claimed he had learned from his mother to be a doctor. A vampire, playing at doctor. It was disgusting.

But Trevor didn't hate him. He couldn't. Because on top of it all, Adrian was distressingly, achingly, fuck all off and bask in it good. He was brilliant and he was kind and he was gorgeous and there was nothing Trevor could hate about him no matter how easy it would have been. Instead, he stared. Stared, as Adrian drank wine instead of ale, bathed whenever he could take the time, he even fucking smelled good. He fucking read books when they stayed in an inn rather than on the road, though even by the campfire he could be found with a book, or a ream of paper, making notes. Trevor couldn't stop staring at his hands, the grace and elegance with which they moved, smooth, no sign of his skill with a sword, though Trevor knew firsthand how good he was with the long blade that never left his side.

The roadside inn was surprisingly clean, well kept, it was on a traveler's road and was busy, loud and boisterous but alarmingly happy, for the night hordes and the terror in the cities the roads had been clear recently. Sypha was downstairs, she had been talking to another group of Speakers, happy to be among her people once more, and so Adrian and Trevor had gone up to a rented room for some much needed rest. Adrian was freshly bathed, his hair soaking wet and dripping down his bare back as he sat in the window, reading by candlelight. He looked like a fucking painting, in his tight black pants, no shirt, his hair spilling down his back the color of spun gold. Trevor wanted to hate him for it. Instead, he walked over, snatched the book out of his hand, and looked it over.

Of course he couldn't fucking read it.

"Do you want something, Trevor?"

"The fuck is this?" Trevor looked at the book again. Maybe it was the wrong way to get Adrian's attention. But it was working.

"It's a book of medicine. From far east of here."

Trevor made a face. "And you can read it?"

"Of course." Like it was that simple.

Trevor groaned. "Why are you like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like, like you're so much fucking better than us. With your books and your legends and your fucking stupid holier than thou attitude. Would it kill you to try and talk to us? Or to anyone?"

"I'm talking to you right now aren't I?"

"You know what I mean." Trevor grumbled, sitting on the bed.

Adrian did something strange, then. He sat beside Trevor. Close enough that their hands touched, that Trevor could smell something herbal, something soft, in his hair. Trevor wanted to lean into it. He wanted to brush his lips across Adrian's soft skin, taste his lips, bury his face into the crook where his shoulder met his neck and bite to bruising, claim him, push him back and take him. He wanted to bring Adrian down to his level.

But he didn't know who kissed who, only that their tongues were tangled and their breaths were heavy and he could all but taste Adrian's fangs, the dark wine he drank with dinner. He bit at Adrian's lips, tangled his hands in that lavish, still damp, blond hair and he clenched and pulled and the way Adrian hissed, kissed him harder was everything. The way Adrian pulled at him, yanked at his shirt until Trevor's bare chest was exposed, hit by the cold of the vampire's skin and the heat of his breath.

Trevor shoved him back, until he could climb on top and bite at Adrian's neck, his collar, tasting the cool skin where it warmed with want that was decidedly human. And Adrian was underneath him gasping, grasping at his skin, his hips arched seeking Trevor's. And Trevor was happy to indulge, grinding down on him, pulled their hips flush. The contact was amazing, the first Trevor had been given in too long, he could feel the blood rushing between his legs. Straight out of his head and right between his legs, swelling his cock. It was delicious, heady, and Adrian seemed only to feel the same, all but biting at Trevor's lips when they kissed.

He didn't know how Adrian could be so fucking elegant as he slid out of his skintight pants, but there was nothing underneath and he exposed a long, slender, half hard arousal that Trevor wanted to touch, to taste, to possess. He wanted to be inside Adrian, to claim him, to mark him forever so the whole fucking world would know that the untouchable, elegant, gorgeous vampire savior of the whole fucking world had been brought down to his knees, made human by Trevor fucking Belmont.

Instead, Trevor shoved him back, straddled him so he could yank his own clothes off, expose himself to the vampire. Oh, yes, there was that. He was exposing himself, going to fuck, a vampire. The half human son of his family's mortal enemy was on his back, fully naked and half hard, wanting for him. The only son of Lord Dracula longing for the last son of the Belmonts. It was enough to make Trevor go fully hard. He pushed Adrian's legs apart, moved between them, hands bruising hard on his pale, pristine thighs.

Adrian fought back. He gripped the back of Trevor's head, hands tangling in his hair, dragged him down into a biting, bruising, bloody kiss, his long legs wrapped around Trevor, ground his cock against his, hardening himself through the contact. Trevor moaned, at the taste of his own blood, at the bits and hints of pain coursing through him, he moaned low, his hand wrapping around their lengths where they touched, rubbed against each other, Adrian's felt alarmingly hot, like his body had tried to warm, to be human, but it had gone too far. Or maybe it was just as hot as his, and he was too used to the cool feel of his skin.

But it was warm, it was delicious it was real and he was biting bruises into Adrian's too pale skin, thrusting them together in his hand, his blunt, calloused fingers bit into Adrian's thigh, it was hot and slick and rough and Adrian was digging his nails like claws into Trevor's back, drawing searing hot lines of blood and when Adrian leaned up, licked a drop off of Trevor's shoulder where it had laced down his skin and that was what sent Trevor over the edge, what made him come, shattering hard in his hand, over Adrian's swollen cock.

Adrian pushed him, he was on top of Trevor in one smooth movement, grinding against him, pushed between his thighs, against his ass, lifting Trevor's hips to threaten at penetration, without pushing inside him. But Trevor knew that look. It was the look he had when he had been on top, the desire to force, to claim, to hurt, to fuck into him like a feral beast and Trevor wondered if he could get hard again, have him a second round. But Adrian was growling when he pushed himself to orgasm and he knew he could have him a second time that night, maybe a third if they were lucky.

Because here was Adrian, in his arms, coming down from his orgasm, and Trevor didn't hate him at all.