@voidrites asked: ushers him down with a look, cradle of his palm gently cupping his face to guide him into a kiss. it's light; the graze of incisors against his bottom lip left to linger despite his already pulling away. ' behave. '
HE’S A SCOUNDREL, TO BE SURE, but at least he comes when he’s called. alucard bows on command, in fact, bent nearly double for this last scion of valeur. hannibal needn’t say anything; he can beckon him with a glance. and if they're at all to be honest, that warm palm against his cheek is more reward than he deserves. alucard leeches his heat, his love — the very light around them — but hannibal has always been generous, and the kiss they share is sweet and lingering.
gold teeth catch against his bottom lip, so gentle in their violence. and alucard, ever incapable of letting go, hooks an arm about his waist. ❝ don’t i always? ❞ he asks, a glint of humour in his eyes.
